lately

I miss my friend.

You used to always be there. Back in high school, we used to hang out at least twice a week. No matter the craziness, You were always in my corner. You inspired me to always look for ways to give back to others. My love for You was palpable. People knew about us, they talked about us, but You never left.

Throughout college, our relationship grew. You introduced me to that guy - remember him? The one we both thought was "The One"? Remember how he turned his back on both of us? I wanted to be angry with you for all of that, but I just couldn't blame You. You were more than my best friend and living without You seemed impossible.

After that time, I rediscovered our special place in the mountains. Such amazing joy. Such amazing friends. You showed me I had another purpose as an adult outside of my career and I worked tirelessly to make You proud. To live out loud.

Recently, I went back to that special place. But I couldn't feel You. I didn't see You. I don't even know how hard I looked. Where did You go? Why didn't I notice when You left?

Even if life isn't difficult, You're still supposed to be here. This relationship wasn't supposed to be one that only works in the darkest of times. Is it because I didn't ask for You? Did You leave when I began to feel stronger, smarter, and safer on my own?

We used to be so close. Where did our good go?

wg

the big envelope

Today, I walked to the mailbox. I opened it up and there it sat. The Big Envelope. And you know what a big envelope means.

:)

I have a lot of thinking to do.

wg

two of a kind

The following was a conversation between me and my sister while cruising for guys on eharmony:

Her: This guy's last name is Dillworth. I can't imagine my new last name being Dillworth.

Me: Yeah, pass. Who's next?

Her: Am I attracted to Asians?

Me: I don't know, are you? How do you feel about Jackie Chan?

Her: Next. Ugh, 39? Where are all the guys my age?

Me: Hey, beggers can't be choosers. You better hit that shit.

Her: I can do better. Wait - this guy's name is Jordan. I don't know how I feel about guys named Jordan.

Me: Um, so Dillworth made sense but Jordan? You won't date someone named Jordan?

Her: Well, he's also a Red Sox fan so it'll never work. It says here his passion is the World Champion Red Sox. Doesn't he know the Yankees won the Super Bowl?

Me: Yes, sports matching is obviously a priority for you. Who's next.

Her: Someone named Kelvin. Do I have to call him Kelvin?

Me: You are so dying alone.

wg

only the good

Today (Valentine's) is Puck's birthday. Today, he would've been fifteen. I used to give him lots of cookies and his favorite treat - a big bowl of cat food - accompanied by a birthday belly rub. I never felt sad or lonely on this insipid holiday. I'd always declare Puckers as my Valentine - boyfriend or no boyfriend - because he really was the great love in my life.

Funny. I haven't cried as much as I thought I might since he died. I think depression-era Lindsay would've done nothing but sob relentlessly for weeks. I used to not want to move on from a loss because I believed (irrationally) that I was somehow saying that person wasn't significant. As if, by moving forward, I was declaring I no longer loved those I lost. I lived in that sadness. I lived for that sadness. Sad was the life I knew - the only space I could exist.

Dealing with my depression is an on-going struggle. Today - at this time in my life - I am happier than ever. I can look back at who I was and not want to be her anymore. And that's okay - it's okay to not want to be your old self. My old self breathed pure insecurity and went through every day trying to choke back tears. Old self didn't want to get out of bed, talk to people, or even really live. Yeah, not me anymore. Not for awhile.

Puck hated to hear me cry. It was the only time he would leave my side. Poor guy - depression or no depression I'm a pretty teary person! So, maybe that's why God let him stay with me for so long. I bet Puck waited until he knew I'd be okay. He wouldn't want to watch me sit and cry from Heaven.

Today, pour out a little cat food for my Valentine baby. He lives in my heart, always.

wg

make it stop

I don't get this trend:

Men of 2010 - Now hear this:

If it's not cool for me to shave racing stripes up my legs than it's not cool for you to shave a chinstrap on your face.

For real.
wg

target therapy

Target now prints out coupons at the cash register. It kind-of freaks me out how well the Target computer system knows me.

Coupons for the brand of cat food Zoey loves? Great. Coupons for $5 off a new pair of shoes? Fabulous. Coupons for those feminine products right on time? Ok, now that's just weird.

However, bizarre as it may sound, I have accepted the fact that Target is my new therapist.

Observe:

This week I stopped into Target. While paying, the register popped out a coupon for Cottonelle Moistened Toilet Wipes. My heart dropped. A silly boy I haven't thought about in quite some time used those butt wipes. He loved them. Wouldn't poop without them. He traveled with them. Do you know any other boy who travels with butt wipes?

Sigh. Memories flooded back. I grabbed the coupon and receipt, jumped into my car, and sat staring at the stupid coupon. Stupid memories. Was this a sign? Should I call him? Why couldn't it work? Stupid butt wipes.

Then it hit me.

Butt wipes.

Butt wipes?

I was getting upset over butt wipes?

He was a butt wipe. This was a crock of shit. I was through letting someone crap all over me and ruin my day.

Screw you, butt wipe.

And thank you, Target.

wg

sign, seal, deliver...

Grad school app has been submitted and the portfolio is in the mail. Finally! I should know sometime by the end of the month. In case you were wondering, I applied here to a dual degree master's in children's literature / master of fine arts in writing for children program. It's the one program I found that really excited me about going back to school, so, fingers crossed!
wg

working girl says WHAT?

So, a big THANK YOU to those of you who follow my blog and having interesting or polite things to say. I don't know some of you and to be honest- that kind-of freaks me out. But, I guess you like what I write, or how I write, so thanks for being here.

And, a big SUCK IT to the unidentified person who wrote "this blog sucks" in the comments. That's just mean.

wg