jolt me to life

I keep having fantasies about crashing my car. I'll be driving down the street, someone will turn in front of me, and I'll accelerate slightly. I tailgate on purpose, imagining that solid impact. The feeling of metal against metal and the reassurance that I won't be here forever. That things can be changed. That, with enough force, you can permanently change the shape of a seemingly indestructable piece of metal.

I have this fantasy for several reasons. I'm hoping the force might jolt me out of apathy, make me awake and alive- available for living my life. I'm just wandering through right now, sometimes I can't distinguish dreams and reality. The less I do, the less I want to do - it's a vicious cycle. I would hope that being in peril of losing my life, or my life as I know it, would force an intense re-evaluation of the status quo. Or what I accept to be status quo.

So right now, the only light through the fog, is those headlights, my unwavering optimism; and I pray they are real and that I have the courage to approach them head on. To crash into them and jolt me into life.

I haven't done three things in a long while. So here it goes:
1. The sunshine is finally out, and hopefully the scourge of this long winter is over.
2. The support of good friends at my graduate school rejection :(
3. That I will see my sister in two days.

one day older

I'm one day older than yesterday, but legally, I'm also one year older. What have I learned since yesterday, if age purports to engender wisdom? Well, I've learned that when you start drinking at 1 pm, you have to continue on a steady but moderate pace. If and when you stop, you will be down for the count. I've also learned that I might have a chance with Karma, because I woke up to birthday weather that was out of this world. Sunshine and fresh powder all day. Like the dreams you have where every track is fresh, and the sun is glinting through the trees in the glade, waxing golden on your ride as you float along. Except this dream was real. I've learned that a drive through liquor store is probably one of the best innovations that I've discovered recently. We drove up after dinner and the birthday girl simply rolled down her window, ordered three tall boy Pilsner singles and some shooters. No getting out of the car, going into the cold cooler, showing ID or anything. AWESOME. And lastly, I've learned that unlike my first birthday away from home when I cried like a baby in my dorm room- age has mellowed me out and I was cool with the chill day that I had yesterday.

Three things I'm grateful for as a 24 year old, so far:
1. Powder, sun & beer
2. An awesome father, who as described in the words of dude at the hill; "It's pretty cool that your dad is willing to get crunked to celebrate your birthday". Well said.
3. That the rest of my family, maxing, relaxing and chilling by the pool in the Canary Islands, put down their drinks to give me a call and tell me they were thinking of me on my birthday.

dear lauren?

I think that's your name, and I think that's how you'd spell it. It should be burned into my memory, but I was so entranced with your eyes when you spoke to me, that I'm not really sure anymore. But even with only that one brief encounter several months ago, I still have a major crush. I don't think I've had a crush since High School.

It was a hot August day, and my bestie and I had just left market collective in search of a sunny patio and a cold beer. Settling ourselves into a sunny spot on the rooftop patio, a woman in a bright blue parrot dress caught my eye. The dress was several sizes too small and looked a little like a shrunken sausage casing. It was the female version of a hawaiian shirt, and her rooted, crimped bleach blond hair and blue eyeshadow exemplified a female mulleted '80's Rod Stewart look-alike. She was sitting with three young men, easily decades younger than her. The look of amusement on their face was tinged with fear as she went back to the bar to retrieve another round of shots. Using a tray was obviously foreign to her, and she resembled a whale walking a tightrope while trying to bring the shots back to the, now obviously terrified, group of guys.

We observed in amusement, on the edge of our seats to see which patron she might spill the tray on. Looking over at the guys, one of them returned our inquiring looks with a wide eyed look and mouthed 'help me'. Laughing at the spectacle before us, I noticed Lauren in the corner, looking not terrified, but simply amused by what had befallen him that day.

When the tipsy cougar took a bathroom break, HE came over to talk to us. I was distracted by his laid back demeanor, not to mention the fact that he looked like a homeless Jake Gyllenhaal. Just when I thought we were making progress, parrot lady came back, my bestie's husband showed up and the boys decided that they needed a nap before round two that evening. Why didn't I man up and tell him to text me later, giving him my number? My mouth was glued together. I swear. Now I regret it.

There have since been sightings. Outside of the Yardhouse one friday around 4 pm, but I didn't approach him- didn't feel I was looking 'hot' enough. I followed him down the street after seeing him walk by the Ship with some girlfriends one night, but then chickened out. My bestie saw him by her work at a gas station. I just hope this city is small enough that I see him again soon. Because then, I hope. I won't chicken out, and I'll just bite the bullet.....

To conclude, three things I'm grateful for since my last post:
1. The surpise coffee date with a friend on Monday. That 3 pm slump was easily avoided.
2. The assurance from the department head that I might still get into Ryerson after sending a desperate email.
3. It's only one day until the weekend. Thank God.