stopped.

do you ever have those moments that, when thinking back on them, stop you in your tracks?

last night, after a particularly meaningful, deep conversation, we were saying our goodbyes. he put his hand on my cheek, looked at me, and leaned in to kiss me goodnight.

today, just the thought of that moment is melting away the 13-page policy brief i have to read and design a press campaign for, it's melting away the argument with a friend, the desire to be outside on this beautiful fall day, the anxiety of starting a new job..... i'm stopped in my tracks.

cheeseball that i am.

hethie becomes a johnson.

such a beautiful bride! and so far from stella's.....

over the weekend, abby and i made the trek from minneapolis to sioux falls, sodak to watch our heather marry the man she loves. a beautiful ceremony, wonderful company and a night full of dancing and celebration– it doesn't get much better.....

....but then it does. i returned home monday to a job offer! in three weeks, i will be coming on to the marketing team of a financial firm downtown st. paul. i couldn't be more excited, more scared, and more sure that this is exactly the right move for me.

champagne all around!

update.

date #1 with the rocker tonight....
and reason #368 why i need to be letting these straight men take me out more often.

(ps i love you, josh.)

NKOTB

i was totally jordan's girl at nine...

sometimes i can't ever believe i was so enamored with these five boys at nine years old. (seriously. think t-shirts, sleeping bags, pillowcases, hats, SUSPENDERS... you name it, i had it in NKOTB.)

but the boys have grown into men, and man, were we swooning!

and, almost TWENTY years later, the experience of rocking out to "hangin tough" live is one i'll not soon forget. (and one that my nine-year-old self is extremely proud of my 26-year-old self for partaking in.) an awesome and slightly surreal night. abby, lisa and i survived it all with but a few injuries.

no, really. thanks to some lady fainting two rows above us, lisa took a tumble as the lady took her with for a ride down a row. super scary, especially since we were high above ground in the nosebleeds, but after all was said and done and everyone was safe and sound, the three of us couldn't contain our giggles about lisa getting injured at a new kids on the block concert.

all par for the course, i guess.....

by the end of the night, the three of us were fighting over donnie wahlberg... who woulda thought? jordan's girl has turned into donnie's woman!

the hills: minneapolis

last night, during dinner (and before the hills), my roommate and i were discussing the latest drama in our lives. (what can i say, the hills just gets us all hot and bothered for this kind of conversation.) not surprisingly for two single girls such as ourselves, most drama in our lives revolves around men.

case and point:
on saturday night, just as i was blissfully falling asleep after a fabulous night spent uptown, the new potential in my life; a rocker covered in tattoos– edgy, but with an incredibly sweet and engaging personality; texted me. up until that point, our relationship had been completely platonic. but after numerous flirtatious texts between us, it became quite obvious we were stepping it up to the next level. we made tentative plans for sunday night and around 3am, i finally fell asleep, with a huge smile across my face.

enter sunday morning, and work at 9am. after a week spent moving and a weekend spent working early and staying out late, i was ready to crash by 4pm. i sent rocker a brief text explaining my situation (i.e. my needing to be in bed watching E! by 6pm) and asked if i could take a raincheck.

his response?

"i suppose. just let me know what works for you and i will see what i can do."

my gut reaction?

what the hell is with the ice? and why in the world is he acting so cold over a cancellation of tentative plans made over buzzed texts at 2am on saturday?

in other words– why the DRAMA?

which prompted my roommate to make a profound observation.

while in our society, women are made out to be the more dramatic of the sexes, it seems as though we are always dealing with dramatic men in one way or another in our lives. true, we hang out with a lot of gay men, but the majority of this drama comes from the men we are either romantically involved with, or on our way to becoming romantically involved with.

why is this? is it because straight men don't have each other to be dramatic with, therefore they take it out on their poor, unsuspecting romantic counterparts? is it because they think drama is something women are attracted to? or are they just secretly watching episodes of the hills late at night in bed?

either way, i'm not counting him out just yet (i can't help it, a man with half-sleeves and an acoustic guitar just gets to me), but he does get a few brownie points knocked off.

all settled... for now.

the past week has been a complete whirlwind. everything is still blurry, but what is clear is that the new place (a mere two blocks from the old place) is adorable, cozy and all put together. after a hectic moving day, my roommate and i got to work making a home out of our living space, and i think we did a pretty good job.

and now... the whirlwind continues. an interview here, a concert there, a wedding in sioux falls, halloween in minneapolis, perhaps a date (or two), and work, work, work. all leading up to gluing myself to CNN on november 4th.

that's the thing about life– it never stops spinning. but at least i have a cute little place to come home to every night.

moving day.

wish us luck.......

the catch.

i am a daydreamer. more often than i should, i let my mind wander places it has no business being.

i think about all the days that have passed since he's been gone. how many pictures have been taken, phone calls received, experiences lived, without him. how much i've laughed and how much i've cried. he doesn't know about any of it.

he doesn't know how bittersweet i've come to know life to be. as much as he tried to tear me down, he doesn't know how strong he made me. or rather, how strong i became in spite of him. he doesn't know, and will never know, that as happy as i am, i still sometimes feel that catch in my throat, that catch that lets me know as far away as he may be, he hasn't quite left my heart.

i think about how if we ran into each other on the street he wouldn't even know who i am anymore. he who used to know every little thought, every emotion, every curve of my body. i wonder what would happen.... if we would hug, if our conversation would be awkward or comfortable, if we'd even acknowledge one another.

at the end of the daydream, i have no idea what would happen. nor do i really hope to ever know.

however, i do know this.

the catch. the catch will always be there.

leaving 20 groveland.

on wednesday, i am moving. leaving my first home in the city, and arguably, the first place i've had that truly feels like mine, like "home."

in thinking of how to "say goodbye" to my home via the blog, many sweet memories filled my mind.

those thoughts were interrupted early this morning as a man went slightly insane in the hallway of my building, screaming/yelling/banging/stomping. (think me locked in the bathroom with my cat frantically calling 911.)

perhaps it's not such a hard goodbye after all?

ah, but it is.

the screaming man, the pantsless dumpster diver, the pantsless corner market owner (seems to be quite the theme), they're all just a part of living in this city. in this city, on this street, that i've become so accustomed to. and now i'm leaving it.

leaving my first venture into the city to start my second one. leaving the only home leo's ever known to show him a second one. leaving the place where i fell so madly in love, and so bitterly out of love. so many meals cooked, music played, tears shed, love made, and on wednesday, i will shut the door to it all, hand the keys over and start making new memories.

so, with that, i say– goodbye, 20 groveland. we had a good run. i believe we did the city proud. and every time i drive down the street from here on out, i will smile at the memories of my twentysomething self giddy over her fabulous little apartment in her fabulous little city.

under the disco ball.

last week saw me bravely (and briefly) venture outside the dark, neon-lit world of the gay bar and into "straight-man-land....." a strange place i know nothing about.

a place where the men aren't constantly recounting their last sexual escapades in great detail, a place where i know more about fashion than my male counterparts, a place where men's jeans are bigger than my arm and football is discussed as a a sport, not as a fantasy. (but really, i've got to give the gays a little credit... who doesn't love buff men in tight pants wrestling each other?)

and what i found in this strange place wasn't so scary after all. in fact, after several conversations with a couple of cute, single (and most importantly, straight) men, i wondered to myself why i've spent so many nights under the disco ball dancing by myself amongst a group of men groping one another instead of me. (not that i want a man groping me on the dance floor, but you know what i mean.)

because, at the end of the day, as much as i love my beautiful gay friends, i want a man to dance with me. i want a man to take me home, to meet me at the end of the aisle, to have babies with me and grow old with me.

and preferably, not one who is a total a**hole or a big stoner. not one who sends me vulgar text messages, or one who asks me to take shots with him on our first date (on a tuesday night). definitely not one who has an affair with his (male) roommate behind my back, or confesses to me that he's "tried the bi thing."

and so it continues.... perhaps with just a little less time spent under the disco ball.

come and gone already?

my sodak BFF hit mpls this weekend for a few days of shopping, girl time and of course, kathy griffin with the boys. i don't think it would've been possible for us to have a bad time.

hard to believe it's already over and time for the big move to start.......












also, a couple of new discoveries and instant favorites of mine from this weekend:
common roots cafe..... the best grilled cheese sandwich and tomato/basil/red pepper soup i've ever had.
magers and quinn..... not only is it one of those funky/unique local bookstores that has that wonderful smell of books upon walking through the door, the awesome guys who work there dug through their shelves and found an old copy of valley of the dolls for me for $7. i will most definitely be headed back there for other wonderfully obscure finds.

friday fun.

taking a break from politics (and believe me, there is so, so much i could say), here's a bit of friday entertainment from one of my favorite ladies.

cheers to the weekend!

i am not myself these days.

last weekend, i started and finished i am not myself these days, one of the most amusing and surprisingly poignant memoirs i've read. the story follows a drag queen who moves to new york and falls in love with a drug-dealing hooker. not exactly a heartwarming, fuzzy read, but i found myself in laughter and in tears throughout the book, and oddly enough, i found myself completely relating to the story (though i'm neither a drag queen or a drug-dealing hooker).

if you still don't believe me, i'll let josh kilmer-purcell speak for himself. following is the one excerpt i found spoke the loudest to me, and to my experiences.

i try to make myself realize that i have learned the difference between right and wrong. that there is such a thing as right and wrong. but instead i've learned that these are things– this "right," this "wrong"– these are things that we are told. simply told to believe. these are things we have not tested. and while most of the things we are told may be true, it is not until we have tested them, taunted them, flaunted them, that we truly know they are right. or wrong. or true. or false. or somewhere in-the-f*cking-between. and i think i know now a little better which is which. and i also know i'll never quit testing this world. i'll never rely on common knowledge. or common denominators. or even common sense, for that matter. to do so would be too, well, common.

a worthwhile read for sure.

happy birthday to you.

to my sister, my friend, my nonromanticlifepartnersexlesslover soulmate.

from "easy access," capfuls of vodka, dancing with iron rods on the fireplace (actually...that doesn't sound too safe, i'm scolding our 19-year-old selves!), crying over boys, rejoicing over new ones, crying over them... too many stories to count, too many margaritas consumed.....

to this.

brookings, sodak, to mpls, minn. and a whole lotta love in between.

as old abe lincoln says.... "and in the end, it's not the years in your life that count. it's the life in your years." you've packed a huge life into 27 short years, my friend. i've been so blessed to join you on your path these last nine years... i can't wait to see what the next 27 bring. and the next 27 after that.

cheers to you, my angie! then...

and now....