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....