"Hilary, The Gigantic Whore", An Extremely Tall Tale

About a week ago, I learned of a rumor that passed through my place of work about me - so I thought, for the people who aren't quite sure of what a rumor is, that I would share the definition of the word:

Main Entry: ¹ru·mor

Pronunciation: \ˈrü-mər\

Function: noun

Etymology: Middle English rumour, from Anglo-French, from Latin rumor clamor, gossip; akin to Old English rēonto lament, Sanskrit rauti he roars

Date: 14th century

1: talk or opinion widely disseminated with no discernible source

2: a statement or report current without known authority for its truth

3 archaic: talk or report of a notable person or event.

Now that we have that settled, on to the greatest story of our time. For those of you who know me, be prepared to laugh. Apparently, I am a giant whore.

I was actually just informed of this. Apparently, people have known this about me since February (I think. The timeline is still a little iffy). Turns out, someone started a rumor about me breaking up a co-workers marriage by having an affair with him. This was, mind you, about 3 weeks after I found out my ex-boyfriend had been cheating on me for about a year, and then broken up with me - so of course, I would then do the exact same thing I was heartbroken over someone doing to me. Duh!

Travis and I broke up in January, after about 5 years of dating. He was my first boyfriend, and my first love. My friend at work was having some problems in his marriage around the same time. A month or so later, when my friend and his wife separated, we began hanging out and talking a little more, because we were both heartbroken, and found solace in each others company. That sense of comfort developed into a pretty great friendship, where in which we were able to help each other heal. I had so many friends offering me love and support, but it was nice having someone at work who was going through a similar emotional roller coaster to just share a look with, and know what the other person was going through - and to know that it was okay to occasionally smile. This, however, translated to some people as something very different. Some of my coworkers took this new friendship to mean that we were sleeping together, and that my friend was cheating on his wife with me.

Does the rumor itself upset me? No. Everyone talks, and everyone gossips. What upsets me is that no one took the time to think or know me well enough to know that I would never in a million years do anything like this - especially seeing as how cheating is what ended my relationship that, I thought, was heading into a possible permanent thing. Not one person took a step back to think about what might have really been going on - they all just made assumptions. And again, I don't think it would have bothered me so much if it hadn't filtered it's way up to the management, and thereby directly affected my status, position, and reputation at work - all things I was not even aware of until the past 2 weeks. Apparently, according to some of my co-workers, a boy and a girl can't be friends without sex being involved. Who knew?

Basically, I am appalled at peoples ignorance. I didn't talk much about what happened with Travis and I because it hurt me too much - and the same goes for my work friend. It was our desire to keep our personal lives private that got us here - that, and peoples sheer boredom. Luckily, everything has been straightened out - to the people that matter, anyway - and things are looking up. Like, sky rocket high.

I don't think people realize how hurtful gossip and rumors can be. I, for one, am just as guilty as anyone else of gossiping - though I know I've never tried to intentionally create problems for anyone else. I'm not sure what drives people to hurt others - whether it's insecurity, jealously, or just plain boredom - and maybe it's not knowing that makes a person incapable of doing so. I always said that about Travis - I could never understand how he could cheat on me, and lie to me for so long - but maybe it's good that I don't understand it, because without understanding, perhaps I am incapable of doing the same. Maybe the same proves true here.

I will say this: I absolutely believe in karma, and things happening for a reason. I went through a few months of crap, but I'm coming out stronger on the other side, and I'm glad for that. I know who I am, and what I'm capable of. And in the end, isn't that what matters?

Matchmakers at Work - Connecting Lovers Since 2006!

Yesterday, I received a letter. Tonight, I found said letter, and decided that even though it had no labels or markings on it, nor did it hold that pesky return address in the upper left, I would open it. It was so good, I decided to share:

"Matchmakers at Work - Let us reconstruct your love life."

Really? This is the mail I'm getting? Someone out there thought this is what would spark my interest in the dating world? Words of advice, "Matchmakers at Work" - don't open your letter with "Dear Single Friend". I'm not your friend - I don't even know you, and I'm a little concerned as to where you think you know me from. And quite honestly, the name makes it sound like a charity dedicated to helping the homeless find love.

I decided to Google (as I do with everything - note the Pimp-slap vs Bitch-slap entry), and found the best. website. ever. seriously: http://www.matchmakersatwork.com/

Allow me to share some of this glorious (and by glorious, I mean most depressing-kick-you-in-the-knee) letter with you. I have bold faced my favorite parts:

Dear Single Friend,

We are sending you this letter because we at Matchmakers at Work know that wonderful compatible matches don't just fall from the sky. In our busy everyday lives, most people go to work, run a few errands, and come home. The odds of bumping into Mr. or Miss Right within these parameters are slim to none.

At Matchmakers at Work we will do all the work for you. We want you to entrust us to take care of your love life. In order to do so we will need to know your likes, dislikes, hobbies, interests and your dreams for the future. At Matchmakers at Work we say shoot for the moon! Tell us who your ideal mate should be, who do you envision yourself with now, and where do you see yourself in five or ten years from now.

Life is too short to be with out someone who absolutely adores you and you them. We at Matchmakers at Work are confident that we can find that wonderful compatible person who is right for you. We are dedicated to making you happy and helping you find the love of your life.

Please fill out the confidential profile form below and send it back in the prepaid envelope enclosed or contact us directly so that we can start reconstructing your love life today!

Fascinating. And based in Lawrenceville New Jersey? Sign me up! And then shoot me.

Simple Simple Minds

I know it's 4 days past it's importance, but seeing as how it's still relevant, I thought I would share:

Lynette Fromme Released After 34 Years

Who thinks this is an awesome idea?

Moving on. Tonight at work, I was, yet again, amazed at the level of stupidity people can achieve. One of my coworkers asked me what my ethnicity was - and then proceeded to answer the question by saying "Jewish, right?". I think I would be more shocked if this were the first time someone had asked me this question. For sheer entertainment purposes, I will now divulge the conversation that occurred (completely out of the blue, mind you):

Anonymous Coworker: Hey, so like, what ethnicity are you? Like, Jewish?

Me: Um. What?

Anonymous Coworker: You're like, Jewish, right?

Me: "Jewish" is a religion. Like, Christianity, or Catholicism. It's not an ethnicity.

Anonymous Coworker: Oh, okay. So you're from like, where then, Israel, right? 'Cause it's not like, Hebrew.

Me: ...No.

Anonymous Coworker: Oh, okay. So like. You're not Jewish?

Me: No, I am Jewish, but that's my religion. Actually, Israel - which is a country - has a lot of different religions. People from Israel are called "Israeli".

Anonymous Coworker: Oh, okay. So like. Don't all the Jewish people come from there?

Me: ...No.

Anonymous Coworker: So you're not Hebrew?

Me: That's a language.

Anonymous Coworker: Oh okay, cool. So what's your ethnicity?

Me: I'm a mix of a bunch of things.

Anonymous Coworker: So you're not from Israel?

Me: ...Sure.

Amazing.

Always One Foot On The Ground

I added these little fishies at the top of my page over there. If you click on the box somewhere, you can feed them and make them all crazy-like.

The past few days have been really weird - for example:

• Early today when I checked my email, it was all in Hebrew. Really?
• I had an insane dream two nights ago - I was present for a terrorist attack in which all the people affected had to go through this massive anti-radiation machine (I blame the fact that I was watching The Ten right before I went to bed, and saw the vignette with the cat-scan machines), and the side effect was that it turned you purple. Everyone got out okay.
• I have misspelled my name 4 times in the past 3 days.
• My computer moo-ed when I turned it on. Like a cow. Moo.
• I watched Coraline three times. That's not so much weird, as slightly pathetic.

There were other things, but it's almost 2 am and I can't remember them. I should really start writing more things down.

My birthday is in a little more than a month, and I've decided that 24 is going to be a great, great year - and fingers crossed that I'm not jinxing it by mentioning it. 23 kind of sucked, and I think I'm ready to move on. I know changing a number doesn't necessarily mean anything, but I think it will be a really important milestone for me, and I want to make it positive. I need it to be positive. I'm really ready to grow up. I just wish I weren't so darn impatient with myself.

Also, Mia turned 4! Picture sampler...

Mia and her girlfriends

Awesome Whole Foods cake!

Partying is a very serious business

Honestly. Could she be cuter?

She got fishies for her birthday!

Abandoned Beach

If she wants to rock, she rocks, and if she wants to roll, she rolls...

Holy roller coaster of a summer-thus-far, Batman. I don't even really know where to begin or finish or pick up or leave off. In a nut shell? Camp was awesome, as always, the bookstore was frustrating, and Assassins was one of the best shows I've done in a long time.

And at the end of it all? I feel more trapped then before. I'm in a never ending loop. I want to move out of my house, so I work. I try and make and save money, which is why I am living at home (and also because I don't have enough money to quite make it on my own yet). However, my mother insists I pitch in, money wise, because she doesn't make, well, any money at all. So I'm stuck - I work and live at home so I can save, but I can't save because I have to pay for everything (minus rent- although rent may even be cheaper). Not to mention I practically make peanuts at Barnes and Noble. It's a joke. It's insanely frustrating.

I've even started feeling sorry for myself lately, which is so unlike me. It seems as though everyone around me is figuring out their lives, settling down, starting anew, whatever - except for me. I'm not looking for a pity party, I'm not trying to write about how sad I am, or how lonely I feel - I just thought I would be somewhere by now. I thought I would know what I wanted to do, or have found a direction to lead in to, or something. I feel like I'm just floating in nothing. I'm not satisfied with anything, I'm not even content. I'm restless and frustrated all the time, and it's a terrible mix of anxiety and desperation and uneasiness, and it's constant.

I feel like (cue cheesy musical theatre reference) that stupid puppet from Avenue Q, desperately seeking a purpose, specifically my purpose, in whatever it is I'm supposed to do. Maybe I just need to know or hear that this is normal. That it's okay to be almost 24 and unsure of everything. To be still living at home with a desperate want and need for an adult life, a job, and the prospect of a future - and I feel as though I have none of that. I just thought I'd be on my way by now.

I suppose I'm overwhelmed and I don't know quite where to go from here. If everyone else can do it, can everyone else please show me?

I'm reduced to making mac and cheese and curling up on my couch and watching John and Kate Plus Eight. It's a (Daria reference drumroll) sick sad world I'm stuck in.

This Is Beyond Camp College Signs

Alright. I'm going on very little sleep. But this had to be shared.

I have always told stories about campers and customers at the various jobs I have held throughout the years, and no one ever believes me. Therefore, hence, etcetera, I've decided to start writing them down.

Tonight, for example, one of my all time favorite customers was in the store. This woman (let's call her Anne, since I don't know her actual name) comes in at say, 1, maybe 2 in the afternoon, and doesn't leave until closing. Anne pulls about 70 different books from the business section, stacks them all up at a table, reads through some of them taking notes, and then when we close, she gets up and leaves, leaving all the books behind for us to shelve. It should also be noted that she wears a GIANT white sun hat at all times, and sometimes wears sunglasses in the store. Apparently she was asked not to come back to the store a few years ago, but has suddenly begun making appearances again.

There is also the man who comes into the children's section sometimes, walks to the little stage we have, faces the wall, and begins to pray to Allah. I guess the wall is East?

Let's not forget my favorite - we'll call him John (again, I try not to familiarize myself with these people because they freak me out). John comes in to the cafe about once a month. He purchases exactly 4 cupcakes, and 2 sugar cookies. He then sits down with his desserts, and begins to take off all the icing from the 4 cupcakes, and place them on the 2 sugar cookies. He then eats the two cookies, and throws away all 4 cupcakes, sans icing. It's a whole process, really.

Honestly. I could write a book. Camper adventures are soon to come! For example, remind me to tell you about how, today, I spent 15 minutes looking for a campers' wallet she supposedly left at lunch, only for her to say "Oh, I think I left it in my lunch box, I didn't check there" after we walked all over campus. Oy.

ASSASINS - KELSEY THEATRE - FRIDAY JULY 24th - SUNDAY AUGUST 2nd

Seriously. It's awesome, and I use a gun.

The Fourth

You know when you read the first sentence of a book, you know immediately you're going to love each and every word you absorb? I picked up "Post Grad" by Emily Cassel a few days ago at work, and immediately fell in love. To be perfectly honest, the book first drew my attention based on it's cover (I know, tisk tisk Hilary!), which includes a picture of Alexis Bledel from the soon-to-be-made-into-a-movie-ness (also including Jane Lynch and Carol Burnett, holy cow!) but as soon as I opened the cover and read the first sentence, I was hooked.

The book is about a young girl who is just about to graduate college with her B.A. in English, and wants to work for a publishing house, reading and editing books, and hopes to discover the next big novelist (um, hello). Unfortunately, even though she has excelled through high school and college with high marks and scholarships, she is just not able to grab that perfect job, and is forced to move back home and live with her crazy family, all the while being rejected from all jobs she applies for, and feels like her life is headed straight for nowhere-land-ville.

It's as if they studied my life for a year, and then wrote everything down, and are now making some serious profits off of me.

Hi. They even stole my shoes.

In other, less promotional news, the Fourth of July - a day which normally means squat to me - was really tough to get through. I worked pretty much all day, but had very few customers and very little to do, which led to large bubbles of time in which I was able to stand around and think about the past 5 Fourth of July's, all of which included Travis. I don't think I ever did anything on the Fourth until I met him, but once I did, we spent it together. We both always had that day off, him with the bank, me with camp, and I would always drive up North, and we would go to one of his friends' houses for a BBQ, or drive into Brooklyn and climb up a scary window-ladder and eat burgers up on the roof of his brothers' apartment building, or spend an hour driving around Hoboken finding the fireworks park with a bunch of his guy friends (including a stop at a shut down police station to ask for directions), sitting out watching four fireworks shows over the river, and taking 4 hours to get out of the insane parking lot afterwards. Instead, I spent this year being yelled at by rude customers, followed by sitting at home alone and watching old Gilmore Girls episodes - normally an activity I would kill to have time for doing.

I think what's happening is this: the idea that I am not getting over this break up as quickly as I thought I was - or as quickly as I thought I would be able to. I'm not bouncing back, and I'm not happy about it. I think I always assumed, foolish as it may be, that he and I would end up together - probably because these are things we sometimes talked about. And perhaps it's ridiculous to think that your first love will be your only love, but I thought I was one of the lucky few who fall in love only once. To have something so solid in your life become something nonexistent overnight is earth shattering - especially when I'm a person who needs to feel as though I have some control over the things happening in my life (I mean come on - I had dreams for weeks about all my teeth spontaneously falling out of my gums, one by one, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Doesn't take a genius to figure that one out).

I suppose I thought I was stronger - or lead myself to believe I was tougher than I'm turning out to be. And I guess that's okay - but it certainly doesn't make it any easier. Why is it that the person who cheated and lied is the one who gets to move on so fast, and get to sleep at night - when the person whose heart was broken is stuck sitting up nights, still hurting 5 months later, and wondering what's ahead?

I know it takes time. Everyone told me it takes time. July 13Th will be 6 months, and it's certainly easier - but it's not where I want to be. I still miss. I don't know if I still love him or not - I've never gone through a serious breakup before. I certainly feel as though I won't meet anyone, or that I'll never heal thoroughly enough to move past this. I just never saw myself here, in this place, still hurting and still thinking, and part of me still hoping he hurts too. I'm really looking forward to that day when I can stop caring, at least a little bit.

I usually love fireworks. I couldn't bring myself to go this year - but they're shooting them off down the street, and it's all I can hear.

The Freeman and Wells 42nd Family Reunion

With the exception of my car, this amazing new Macbook Pro is possibly the greatest and most fantastic investment I have ever made. That, and it falls under the category titled, "So expensive I probably will be broke forever but it's totally worth it". Worth every penny.

Not being connected to the human race via the inter-web did open my eye to some scary realities...

1. We are far too reliant on technology. I didn't have consistent email communication for about a month, and I felt as though I were in withdrawal from heroine. Not only that, but the lack of YouTube bruised my soul a little... especially when I would hang out with friends, and everyo

ne would be quoting the latest YouTube sensation, and I had to pull a Joe

y and just nod and laugh along, even though I had no idea what was going on. That's right. Play your tiny violin for me.

2. Facebook is both a blessing, and possibly a malediction. True story: I literally missed outings and events with friends because I was not able to check the events calender on my Facebook account. I have actually lost touch with people because, for a month or t

wo, I was unable to stay current on Facebook. People don't CALL people anymore! Unless it's a last minute get-together, everything is done through the events page. Granted, I am just as guilty - it's great being able to reach a whole group of people and

friends and get an idea or message across within minutes. But come on. A friend of mine got annoyed with me when I didn't respond to her event in a timely fashion; I missed notifications

about multiple outings with people from some shows I've done recently; I almost missed a friends birthday celebration because I couldn't get on the site. While I understand and appreciate the invention of such a glorious networking tool, it's frustrating to actually miss parts of life because my nerd-machine crashed.

3. I got more sleep without having a computer in my room - and got more reading done to! All during college, I would throw a DVD into my laptop right before I got into bed, and would fall asleep with a movie or television show playing - I never realized how much time I spent actually paying attention to what I was watching instead of sleeping. It's a little pathetic, I know, but I actually noticed myself waking up more rested, and realized that it was because I was falling asleep sooner. I'm also convinced it has something to do with not having noise going in the background, even though I'm asleep and can't hear it. In addition, in the month I had no computer, I finis

hed reading 4 books - and I'm a very slow reader.

When it comes down to it? I'll take the computer, thanks. Especially when it's all silver and pretty, and the little apple on the outside lights up while the computer is in use. What can I say? I guess I'm a shallow inter-web addicted insomniac. But I'm alright with that.

For those interested, meet my new baby:

Yes. I'm obsessed.

Apologies for the lack of updates - my computer crashed. Again. Super cool, right? But fret not, loyal followers (all...8 of you?), for I have made a life altering decision that will forever change me. Ready?

I'm buying a Mac. If I could make the words glow and sparkle and sing with fanfare, they would.

Hip Hop Hooray, Gurl. See you soon!

Sham Ow

I have to much to share, and so many stories to tell - but this, currently, takes the cake.

I'm not-so-secretly in love with horrible infomercials - everyone who knows me knows this. However, currently, I have two absolute favorites - The Snuggie ( I mean, hello. It's a blanket you wear and can do all your daily activities in, without having to worry about those troublesome blankets!), and the Sham Wow. You can, therefore, imagine my distress when I learned the following news: Sham Wow man was arrested for punshing a prostitute in the face! I laughed. I cried. I found this fantastic footage online:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JmK8PH4KhM4v=JmK8PH4KhM4

I know this is relatively old news, but I've been busy. Plus, while my cast and I were at Uno's last night, the story came on tv. And I peed my pants a little.

Let It Be

I'm beginning to realize that there are some things in life you can never have resolution to. This is ridiculously hard for me, as I am a big supporter of whole conflict resolution movement. I've always taken situations into my own hands, and handled them in the best possible way I could think of - including going to those I see as being trustworthy and strong for advice. And it's because of this, that I constantly see my biggest flaw exploited, repeatedly, and without my even being aware of it until after the fact: I'm simply too trusting, too quickly. I also don't listen to myself enough, or go with my initial gut feeling. Goal for self - stick with intuition.

I guess I just feel as though I can never find a steady balance - between trusting too much, and trusting too little. A person can't go around spilling their secrets to everyone they meet, because people are blabber mouths and gossip queens, and need to keep themselves occupied with others' lives. I believe they call this "High School". But I could be wrong. On the other hand, if you never open up, you can never let anyone in, and never let anyone get close to you, and therefore never be close to anyone yourself. So how do you know? How do you sift through the muck to get to the good stuff, the high-end quality furniture you should surround yourself with?

Perhaps this is just something you struggle with when you've felt or been betrayed by someone you feel closest to, and this is the final aftermath - the last pieces of the puzzle you're left with to sort through. Except this puzzle is 5,000 pieces, and it's just the different blues of the ocean.

On a more uplifting note, Godspell has been a fantastic experience, and as cheesy and lame as it may sound, I feel like I've come out a slightly different, and slightly better person in the end. Everyone told me that doing this show is less of an experience, and more of a journey - and up until a week or so ago, it really didn't click with me. This show, and this cast, helped me through one of the harder things I've had to deal with in my life, and I don't know if I would have been able to turn it into a positive, had I not been surrounded with the people I have spent the past few weeks with. I know I've changed, and I know for the better. I've rediscovered some of who I may have lost over the past few years, and I feel like I'm starting to come into my own, as an adult. The past two and a half months have truly been a life changing experience in a thousand and one ways, and I don't know any other way to describe it or explain it. I look back at myself just a year ago, and realize how much of myself I was holding back. How much I watched my step, and my tongue, and hid some of the quirky. I am allowed to be myself. I can be myself, and I can be happy and okay with that. Bonding with this cast has been the perfect example - I was completely myself and honest with them, and they embraced me as such, no questions asked. That is how it should be. And for the first time in months? I'm no longer questioning that. Or myself.


And when the night is cloudy,
There is still a light, that shines on me,
Shine until tomorrow,
Let it be.

Love and Complaints

I've always had a secret love of John Stewart. Watching him completely destroy someone on television blew my secret love into an all out affair. I mean, hello, Stud Muffin. Check it out HERE!




Also, HBO is re-making Grey Gardens into a movie again, starring Drew Barrymore. Did no one see Christine Ebersole's unbelievable portrayal of Little Edith on Broadway? Or in 42nd Street? The woman is amazing! To be replaced with Drew Barrymore? I'm not setting any expectations.

Spring Time For...

The past few days or so, I've been feeling overly stressed out, tired, and kind of gloomy. Meanwhile, all my still-in-college friends are on their much-needed spring breaks - and that's when it hit me. Last year, this exact week was my spring break - my body is aching for spring break whoo-whoo! It wants to get in a car at 11:00 at night and drive to Myrtle Beach, no stops, with 3 drunk guys in the backseat. It wants to take a train to the St. Patricks Day Parade and spend 3 straight hours walking 5th Avenue searching for green beer, only allowing an enormous green Margarita to be it's substitute. It wants to sit all night on the beach surrounded by booze and smoke, just to watch the sun rise, and a chance meteor shower, or drive down to LBI to shoot a friends short film and spray paint shells in the sand - and wonder if, even now, people are still finding those.


Instead, I will be working at Barnes and Noble, helping rude, un-thankful people search for books for over 20 minutes - only to find them an hour later sitting on a random cafe table, not purchased. This is not what I should be doing with my life. I almost feel like I would be getting more gratification going back to waiting tables at this point.

I told myself I would stay for one year - one year to save up some money, get my benefits, and move on. If September first rolls around, and I'm still here? I'm moving anyway, with or without a job opportunity. Decision made!


::edit::


Also, remember the famous "25 things" phenomenon? Apparently it's back, only this time with a different title - "44 things", or something equally stupid. I've decided, instead, to just repost my original. That makes 50, so suck it.

1. I love cottage cheese.
2. I tell people I don’t know what it is I want to do with my life because it’s easier than trying to defend the truth.
3. I could live off of chocolate.
4. I hate sour cream and guacamole.
5. People often ask me if I’m part Asian. I don’t know why. I don’t think I look it even a little bit.
6. I dance around alone my room in my underwear all the time. Everyday, if I can help it.
7. The people in my life I feel closest to are the people I see the least.
8. I’m terrified of not accomplishing something great.
9. I wish I were just a little bit stronger.
10. I have never felt popular.
11. My Dad took me to see over 300 Rutgers football and basketball games when I was little. My favorite parts were the hotdogs and the dance teams.
12. I miss my gallbladder. I do not miss being sick anymore.
13. I think I was born in the wrong decade. I should have been born in the 70’s.
14. Freshman and Junior years in college were my favorite.
15. In 2nd grade, I got sent to the principles office with Fiona, Jan, and Fokion, because Fiona and I were running during indoor recess, and Fokion sat on Jan. We all got yelled at, and I never told my Mom.
16. I love getting flowers - just not all roses. I think they smell kind of funny.
17. I’m terrible at accepting compliments.
18. In 6th grade I tried to dye pink streaks in my hair because I thought it would make me cooler. It just turned my scalp red for a week.
19. Mrs. Findley was my favorite teacher of all time. I still think about her often.
20. I talk to myself, and have done so since I was about 2
21. I desperately want to travel to Europe, but flying to another country scares me.
22. My oldest friends are scattered all over the country, and I miss them.
23. I’m happiest when I’m dancing, and I don’t care whether or not I’m good at it.
24. I watched Saved By The Bell whenever it's on.
25. I love the Spice Girls. They spice up my life.

Obsessions and Their Consequences

I'm completely obsessed with the new Lilly Allen CD. Download it now, thank me later.

She's quirky, intelligent, hilarious, her music is catchy, and her lyrics are fantastic - what else could I want in a musical artist? For them to British. OH WAIT - she is. Full package? Yes. And she's only 23 years old. So unfair.

"Pop sensation. Voice of her generation. Fashion designer. Political activist. Mouthy blogshite. X-rated sexpert. Fall down drunk. WAG-tagoniser. Queen of Myspace. Exhibitionist. Primidonna. Style icon. Celebrity girlfriend. Celebrity daughter. Celebrity sister. Paparazzi prey. Party starter. Princess.

Lilly Allen has been called all these things, and much, much more - sometimes with justification, often without. She's posh, she's common, she's sexy, she's demure, she's reticent, she's outspoken, she's sensitive, she's shameless, she's loved-up, she's distraught, often all in the same evening. Then she goes to bed, gets up and has breakfast. Then she posts her breakfast on the Internet. Then other people analyse her breakfast. And wonder why she posted it on the Internet.

Contrary, contradictory, occasionally catty, always compelling. Allen, at 23, is Britain's most consistently engaged and engaging pop star, as well as one of our most successful."

Her first album is amazing, but her second takes the cake. I love her almost as much as Mika. Perhaps more so.

Life's about film stars and less about mothers
Its all about fast cars and passing each other
But it doesn't matter 'cause I'm packing plastic
And that's what makes my life so fucking fantastic

And I am a weapon of massive consumption
And its not my fault its how I'm program to function
Ill look at the sun and Ill look in the mirror
I'm on the right track yeah I'm on to a winner

I don't know whats right and whats real anymore
I don't know how I'm meant to feel anymore
When we think it will all become clear
'Cause I'm being taken over by The Fear

The Shoot Gilmores, Don't They?

"The farther backward you can look, the farther forward you are likely to see"

I found a fortune (like from a fortune cookie) on the ground today, which makes two for this month. I'm starting to think the Chinese food Gods are trying to tell me something. That, or people are clumsy and don't throw away their garbage. Either way, I could use the luck.

Also, for Rachel Yucky:

The Ruby Red Sneakers!

Tonight I recieved the greatest gift of all time, from the most thoughtful and hardworking people I've ever worked with. I couldn't help but brag.

Mad. Props. Pennington Drama. You guys are, officially, the coolest.

The next few weeks, including this one, are really big, crazy, insane, exciting, and important ones. I know it shouldn't matter whether or not he knows or cares, but it's all I can think about - these are weeks he was supposed to be with me, that I was going to be able to share with him - and I doubt if he even remembers.

I don't mean to generalize, but how is it that men's brains are so unlike women's? How do two humans from the same species work so differently? Not to say that women don't cheat, because they do - but in this circumstance, how can two people be such polar opposites, when just weeks ago they seemed so similar?

What I still can't seem to wrap my mind around is this: how did I not know? I mean, I know how I didn't know - because I didn't, and he's an hour away living a separate life - but how was he able to hide it so well, and be okay with that? How was he able to sleep at night, knowing all along that he had cheated on me, twice? I just have so many questions - questions in which I now know I will never get answers to - and so much I want to say and know and have resolved. But I can't. I can't ask him, because aside from getting nowhere except the land of frustration, I just get upset, and obviously no one else can speak for him, or tell me the exact reason as to why his actions were as such.

Things I do know? He is a coward, and an insanely insecure one at that. He showed no respect for me, or for what our relationship was. He is a liar and a cheater (and everyone knows that never changes - as I should have seen from the start). He has no conscience, because if he did, he wouldn't have done it, let alone be able to sleep at night for a year. Worst of all, he is someone entirely different than I thought, and he is not a good person. Good people don't treat others like this.

I hate that I still think about him so much. I hate that I still wonder what he is doing, and that every Saturday rolls around, and I become such a mess, because I know he's going out and having the time of his life, not even thinking about me or how he left me. I hate what he left me with, and the fact that I feel ruined for the next person. I hate that this will always somehow be with me, and my ability to trust others is effected for what seems like forever. I hate that I lost respect for the first person I truly loved. I hate that this is how it ended. I hate that I cry at night over him, because he doesn't deserve my tears. And I hate him. I hate him for doing this to me, and treating me this way, and for the overall person I now see he is.

The worst thing? I hate that I still love him, and that I still can't really hate him for what he did. And part of me still thinks I'm going to wake up, and things are going to be right again - that maybe this is just all some Oz-like dream that feels so incredibly real, but in reality I was just knocked around in a tornado a little bit.

I just want to feel like myself again. I just want out of this foggy cloud, and I just want to be happy. I just want to find some peace. It seems as though that's a lot to ask for.

The Tale of Lucky

Tonight, I discovered that if you lie on the floor in my dinning/living room with your ear against the carpet, you can hear my neighbors talking. Either that, or there are baby gremlins hanging out in the pipes.

About 5 or 6 years ago, my one set of neighbors got a dog - a little adorable baby beagle named Lucky. They walked him everyday for about a year. Then we stopped seeing him. Ever. We assumed something had happened - maybe they gave the dog away, or maybe he got sick, who knows. However, a few weeks later, we heard howling (As only a beagle can do) coming from what seemed like outside. I went in my backyard to see if there was a dying dog (because that is what it sounded like), but to no avail. Yet, the howling continued. This would happen every few weeks, sometimes for a few nights in a row, sometimes only once in a while. Ghost dog, you ask? Demon puppy, perhaps?

No. Our neighbors simply keep their little pooch locked in their basement. At all times. I know this, because I finally followed the howling, and it led to their basement, which has a window, which allows a person to see a dog trapped howling inside. WHAT.

My mom is convinced that they are just breeding dogs, and then eating them. I think they're aliens. Either way, I think it borders on animal cruelty - because no one on my street even thinks they HAVE a dog, and think we're nuts when we say they do.

Actions to take? Call SAVE, I guess. However, from my understanding, they don't really do anything, and then, I'm convinced, my neighbors will know it was us, and poison my cat or something.

I wonder if I have ever accidentally eaten dog?

I know it doesn't matter, and I know it won't help, and I know it's negative, but


I think she was a blonde. And I think he can just bite me. Despicable.

I know this has all become less objective, and more personal. It's just the way it is.

I hate feeling sad. It's how I feel almost all of the time right now, and the only word I can think of to describe it is "suck". It just sucks. When a person is such a big part of your life for so long, it's really hard to not have it there anymore - especially when you thought it was something you wanted.

I have always heard people say that when someone breaks your heart, it literally feels as though your chest is breaking in to pieces. I was never able to understand that until now - though it's not something I'm proud to feel. I was driving home from rehearsal today, and as a song came on that reminded me of him, my chest physically started to hurt. I miss him. I miss having him in my life, I miss being able to call him up and tell him everything that's going on, sharing the good and the bad, having him reason me out when I'm being unreasonable, quoting movies, laughing, and just being.

Whether or not it's the case, it seems as though I was able to lift right out of his life, no questions asked. It was as though I were not important enough to cause a rift. How did this happen? And why was it happening all around me without my knowing? Why did everyone else know, and I was the last to find out?

Cheating sucks. I don't understand it, nor do I think I ever will. And I am okay with that.

Garfield Minus Garfield

During the festive holiday season, I came across a book, which is based off of a website - Garfield Minus Garfield. As stated at the top of the site:

Garfield Minus Garfield is a site dedicated to removing Garfield from the Garfield comic strips in order to reveal the existential angst of a certain young Mr. Jon Arbuckle. It is a journey deep into the mind of an isolated young everyman as he fights a losing battle against loneliness and depression in a quiet American suburb.

Ah. Mazing.

I have literally spent hours just laughing at these. Hours. Hilarity ensues.

Gone Crazy, Back Soon

I'm not entirely sure what to say anymore.

I do know that I have some supremely incredible friends, and without them, I don't necessarily know what I would be doing. They are, quite literally, keeping me sane. And I am honestly having fun - I've gone bowling, gone out for drinks, seen movies, and tonight, went to a really fun Superbowl party, where I actually had fun. Which means there are actually times when I'm not thinking about the situation, or him. Which is good. Of course as soon as I realize I haven't been thinking about it, I think about it. But this is a good first step. Hopefully the time spans of not thinking about it will start to get longer. It's like rehab. Apparently, I suck at rehab.

I think I need to clean out my entire room, completely. I think I need to take things down and rearrange. That, and my closet is filled with crap, and needs not to be. Plus, my walls are a little too high school/college. I need to adult-ise it.

I hate that this is all I can write about right now, and I apologize for it. It's taken over my life, and I despise it, but it's all that's on my mind. He changed his status on Facebook, which I know, is stupid, and it's just Facebook - but it really upset me. I saw "single" in print. It felt so hard, so real. It was a slap in the face I was not ready for. Although I do take back all the overly dramatic statuses I put up. But who was thinking logically?

I'm just tired of cowards. And I hope that one day, I'll meet someone that would never dream of doing this to me, or anyone, for that matter. Someone who would never cheat on me, who would communicate and talk to me when something was wrong, someone who would never lie, or treat me like the nothing I'm beginning to feel like after all of this. Someone who will love me as much as I love them, and who will truly want to share their life with me. I hate that I thought I had that, and within moments, it was just swept out from under me. It's not fair, and I didn't deserve it. No one does.

It's good to write it out.

It Happens Every Day

My original intention with starting this blog was as follows: to write. I simply wanted to make sure that even though I was no longer in school, I kept myself active. It's so easy to slip into not writing, especially after spending the past 5 years doing nothing but. I certainly took enough time off to realize that it's just part of who I am, and as long as I have something to write in, I'll do so.

My first creative writing professor said the following:

"Allow yourself 20 minutes a day to write. Find a corner, a tree, and desk, whatever, and sit down and write. I don't care if it's a novel or a grocery list, eventually, something is bound to come out of it. If you take nothing else but this advice away from this class, then I've done my job."

Easier said then done, yes, but it does work. I get myself in the habit, and then it becomes a drug - I can't stay away. Granted, this is not my first online venture - we've all had the "Teen Open Diary", the "Xanga", and my personal favorite, the "Live Journal" - but I'd say this is my most symbolic and productive. I write what I can, when I can, and if only one person reads it? Then at least one person is reading.

I've also been trying incredibly hard not to write about what's been going on in my life, because part of me feels like it's no ones business. Part of me knows the second my relationship status on Facebook changes from "in a relationship" to "single", a flood of messages and wall posts will follow. Granted, it's great that people care and want to offer sympathy - but what about those people who I haven't spoken to in months or years, who simply message me because they want "the dirt"? As much as I love to hate/hate to love the social networking tool that has become our online lives, I can't stand how impersonal it can all become.

Part of me is afraid to change anything because it makes the situation more real, and seemingly permanent. I don't want to explain the story to every living being, because it's still far to painful and fresh. I'm not looking for sympathy, but friendship.

That being said, it's amazing how my close friends have truly rallied behind me. They have been so wonderfully supportive, listening to me cry, answering my repetitive and ridiculous inquiries, calling me everyday, texting with me nonstop, or spending their lunch break standing with me instead of sitting and eating lunch. I've been keeping myself as busy as I can, because every dull moment leads to spinning thoughts and images that drive me insane. Picturing him with her, having fun, living his life, while I'm stuck picking up the remains alone. Looking back, and knowing that the relationship may have been over in his mind for almost a year, and I had no idea, just wishing things had been handled differently, that he had just talked to me. I have these moments of complete desperation, feeling as though nothing will ever be right again, I'll never find happiness, not alone or with someone else, and just feeling so completely alone and rejected. I feel as though there is literally a hole in my chest, and if a heart could actually break, mine has done so.

I have actually gone two days without crying. Of course I say that now, who knows how tomorrow will be. It's hard just to get out of bed in the morning. I'm always sad. I am not a sad person, and all I feel now is sadness. Perhaps it's too soon, but considering what he did, I should be unbelievably furious and angry - yet all I can do is miss him and want him back. The way he was - not this new person who lies and cheats.

I spent a year knitting him a scarf. It turned out beautiful, and I gave it to him for Christmas. I put my heart and soul into that scarf, and I feel as though every stitch was filled with my love for him. I don't know if he will ever wear it now. I just hope every time he looks at it, he sees me, and knows what he did, and how he ruined something wonderful - and someone.

I told a friend how I felt it was so unfair that he could cheat on me and suffer no consequences, no fallout for the actions - he cheats, we break up, and I'm miserable. Her response was simple: The universe evens everything out, eventually.

I guess we'll just see. Eleven days and counting. This blows.

All Over The Place

The past 7 days have been a surreal blur.

I don't think that's really the right way to explain it. Maybe, more like a horrible, horrible nightmare I haven't been able to wake up from. The worst part about it is that when I do, eventually, find my way out of this fog, nothing will be the same.

People have always said heartbreak is the worst feeling in the world. I never truly understood what they were saying until now. It's cliche, I know, but it's completely and utterly the truth.

A huge chapter in my life has just ended, and I'm not really sure where to start picking up the pieces. Here I am, caught in one of my very first moments of non-hysterics in the past week, and I'm pretty proud of myself just to be able to sit and write, well...anything at all, for that matter. This is a good span of moments.

To be completely truthful, I keep feeling as though my life is ending, nothing will ever get better, I'd rather die than feel this way, etc.,etc.. And even as I write this, I feel my spirits circling the drain again. But if everyone else in the world can do it? If Ellen DeGeneres can do it? Then so can I. Right?

Tonight was the first time I actually laughed all week, thanks to my spunky little kitten who tried to eat my moms face. Immediately after, I started crying, almost as if I caught myself in the act.

Tonight was also my brothers birthday. It was really hard because he was supposed to be here. I'm really mad at him for not being here.

Everyone is telling me that I'm a great person, full of life and ambition and everything that's good - that it's his loss, not mine, that I will do great things and go far and be better off. Maybe I'm just not there yet, but, to me? If I'm so "great" and all of the above? Why doesn't he want me? Why am I not good enough? If I'm too "good" for him as everyone says, then why am I being dragged through the mud? What did I ever do to deserve this? All I ever wanted to do was love him and make him happy, and receive the same in return - why, then, am I left alone, wadding through the puddles he left me in?

I know, the incessant ramblings of a girl who's going through a breakup, typical blah blah blah. My logic is this: maybe another girl going through the same thing will stumble through here and feel just a little bit less alone with her thoughts. And if not, maybe it was just therapeutic for me to write it out for a few minutes.

But dammit. This fucking hurts.

Yo Gabba Crappa

Over the summer, I was having lunch with my co-workers in the cafeteria, when I accidentally stumbled upon the scariest thing I have ever seen. Maybe ever. This "nightmarish monster", as I like to call it, takes it's form in a children's television show on Nickelodeon. It consists of a skinny male creeper in an orange jumpsuit with a giant German-type fuzzy helmet and extremely large glasses, an over-sized boom box circa 1982, and miniature puppets that come to life. Occasionally, Elijah Wood drops by to "Dancey Dance". What is this horrific monstrosity, you ask?

Yo Gabba Gabba. Yikes.

Created by the Aquabats (as in the band - WHAT?!), the show consists of 5 figurines-turned-giant-costumed-humans: Brobee (a green monster with arms too long for his body), Muno (a bumpy red cyclops), Foofa (a pink flower bubble, apparently), Toodee (the blue cat-dragon) and Plex (the yellow robot who lives in the closet). With their fearless leader, aka "DJ Lance Rock", they learn about manners, having parties in their tummies, and dancey-dancing, all illustrated through song, dance, animated sequences, and occasional rock-out performances by well known musical groups and bands, like The Shins and Supernova (double WHAT), and celebrities like Tony Hawk (teaching skateboarding), Mya, the aforementioned Elijah Wood (again, teaching the "Puppet Master" Dance). Wowzers indeed.

I give this show 2 thumbs up for creativity and being bizarre, and 1 thumb down for being the creepiest shit I've ever seen. On a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the highest, I would give this show a Q. Remember when Nick Jr. supplied us with decent television entertainment? Does no one remember David the Gnome, Eurekas Castle, or the ever popular Elephant Show? Epic Fail.

Over-stimulated much? Not to mention the random bursts of dancing children, specifically (and he is my favorite of the bunch), Nathaniel? I can't tell if he's really angry, or pooped his pants. Either way, he's my pick for America's next William Hung

Real Life? Yikes.

"If I want to fly, I'll find a way to fly. Do what you love and fuck the rest."

When I was about 5 years old, my mom got me purple cowboy boots. I guess they were really cowgirl boots, since they were purple and suede, and made to fit a little girl, but either way, I wore them with everything, and I wore them everywhere. Then I stumbled upon the book Chesters Way by Kevin Henkes, followed by Lillys Purple Plastic Purse, where one of the characters, Lilly, always wore red cowboy boots. With the exception that Lilly was clearly a mouse, this character was me. Lilly was a carefree soul, who jumped and danced and sang as she strode through life, one simple day at a time, swinging her purple (though, I think it may have been violet?) pleather-synthetic purse through the air.

The other day I was sorting through books at work, and Chesters Way emerged through the pile, staring me straight in the face. I sat down and read the book. Followed by Lilly's Purple Plastic Purse. For those brief moments, I felt five and simple and wonderful.

It's getting hard to see through the fog of money and necessity. I'm starting to see how people so easily lose their hopes and dreams the day a diploma is placed into their hand - and it frightens me to think that I could so efforlessly do the same. It's so easy to get comfortable and settle, because money makes life a little bit easier, and things like food and electricity are pretty much essential to living.

My dad and I have had numerous arguments and fights about this very topic, and my school loan payments start in just a few days. I'm starting to see the things I want get further and further from my grasp, and the dullness of the everyday is now becoming the ordinary. How can you save for a life and a future if you are constantly stuck paying for your past?

A few weeks ago I bought a new pair of boots. They're not quite cowboy, and they're not quite purple - but it's certainly a start. Right? Post-college life is not the ideal dream I had hoped it would be. I'm not living in my own apartment on the Upper East Side. But I'm getting closer.