amici: capitolo un

i have a friend named Lancaster aka Melanie. she is smart. she lives on the coast. she sends me awesome things like this. (i totally made out with him once ... when he was a Chippendale.) she enjoys sunsets and fine cuisine. we are intellects and discuss important things over brie and wine.

i have a friend named Nate-Dogg-Momlinson. it was his birthday yesterday. i missed his birthday party and it made me really sad. i am going to make it up to him, though. because he is one of my best friends. he is super cool and owns a recording studio.

i have a friend named Remy. he is the sweetest friend in the entire world. he is by far the best host and one of the funniest people i know. my hell, he is funny. and he's going to be an architect. he is one of my best friends, too.

i have friends named Wes and Pow. they procreated and they did really great. Wes has been my friend for 17 years. he plays in a great band, Tough Tittie. Pow is a knock out. like BOOM!

i have a friend named Gina. i don't see her enough ... or at all. i miss her. i love her. we have been best friends through A LOT of stuff. from trips to Hong Kong to crying on each others' shoulders. i am going to kidnap her i think.

i have a friend named Mikele. we have sleepovers with our puppies and laugh a lot. she does my hair too. she makes me feel gorgeous when my roots are two to three inches grown out.

i have a friend named Karma. i feel like we are kindred spirits. i bet i meet her one day. i hope i meet her one day. scratch that. i WILL meet her one day.

i have a friend named Brooks. he is really popular and busy, which is why he makes me feel extra special by doing super nice things just for me. he took me out for a margarita on my birthday. i almost cry sometimes because i love him so much.

i have a friend named Kelly. i would kick any one's ass for her. i would also hug her until all her tears stopped and she turned back into one of the toughest girls i know. her heart is huge. really.

i have a friend named Bethie. we will probably grow old together in palm springs or somewhere and fight over who has the cutest nieces and nephews. we'll wear hats and sunglasses and drive Buick's. (yes, Lancaster, you are already in.)

i have a friend named Dainon. he moved to Florida. i bet he turns into an alligator. or at least grows long yellow fingernails. i secretly hope he finds a sugar momma who makes him wax his chest and clean out the pool ... but he gets paid millions of dollars to do so, which he spends on the love of his life: music.

i have a friend named Shannon. we don't see each other much these days, but she has impacted my life in a very profound way. she was there for me during some of the hardest times of my life. it's not possible for me to love her any more. the best thing about Shan ... she accepts you and doesn't judge you. at all. that's very rare.

i have a friend named Whisper. she's going to be a mommy. she is exactly what i envision my CJ will grow up like. and that's a good thing. i hope Whisper has a little girl that she names Sparrow or Bear. a little darling baby girl who is stronger than diamonds. a little blondie firecracker.

i have a friend named Ally. she is super smart (and startling young for her intelligence and accomplishments). she's going to get her master's degree this year. and she's funny. she flash-dances under vents in Wendover like you ain't neva seen!

i have a friend named JPW. he has a memory as sharp as a tack. he makes me laugh until my stomach hurts. he lives in a haunted mansion with secret blue rooms. one day he'll come visit me in utah. i'll make him eat my grandma's food. he has a butler/housekeeper that i used to date (Eddie Vedder). i know, awkward, right?

i have a friend named Jodi. we met in kindergarten. she used to make me laugh so hard that i would have to take a time out. we shared all our secrets, good or bad, and we were best friends. and still are. she's too far away and i miss her all the time. we used to love sneaking out of her house and drinking wine coolers in high school. she had the sweetest car ever too.

i have a friend named Nicholas. he makes grandpa jokes (i.e. you're going to run to salt lake? that's a long way to run.), he tells me he loves me, he makes me happy and then he makes me pizza at 3am. no shit. he's really smart and he is going to be super successful ... but most importantly -- smart, sexy, and successful aside -- he is resilient, sweet, strong, and loves me no matter what (i think). he is also locked in my attic. i think he looks like a young Bob Dylan.

... to be continued ... l'elenco continuerà ...

you don't have to hang with crazy...

a long, long time ago i was going through a very difficult, heartbreaking time. it seems like a dream. i was a zombie going through the motions of something i would never do.

i asked a lady named Mary if she would give me something like valium because i had to go home and deal with a crazy family.

she said no. and then she stopped, turned around and said, "you don't have to hang with crazy, you can walk away from crazy."

at the time, her advice made sense and was even humorous. and i survived the next few days without medication or therapy. and the ebb and flow of crazy continues even to this day. and while i am really, really discouraged and quite defeated, i don't know that i agree with Mary. only cowards walk away. i do have to hang with crazy. i have a grandma that is so sick she is sitting here moaning and whimpering. she won't answer me. she won't talk. she may be crazy. she will only shake her head and whimper. but i can't walk away.

i want to give up. i want to run. i am exhausted. i feel alone. i feel like people use me for what they need. i feel like people are lying to me. i know people are lying to me. i feel like people prey on my kindness. my gut tells me that something is not ok. but i won't be no runaway. cause i don't want to run. what makes you think i enjoy being led to the flood? we got another thing coming undone. that's taking us over.

that's taking us forever.

i might blame this discontent, uncertainty, and hesitation on the extra cold weather. i'm so over it. i want to blame it on selfish people. i don't like seeing people in pain, emotionally or physically. i don't like people who are completely consumed with themselves. i don't like liars. i hate being lied to.

*paragraph omitted*

but there's no saving anything. so i won't be a runaway. cause i won't run.

The Teenager

i got the following text from The Teenager this evening. when we were laying in bed, i asked her where she found it and she casually said, "i just wrote it."

i love the things you say to me, but i can also hate them too.
i love the way you act around me, and i love the way i act around you.
i love your smile, and also your heart... but i hate the way i act whenever we're apart.
you've always got me waiting, but i'm used to it by now,
all my friends think i'm crazy, they they ask me why and how.
i can't live without you, i know you can't live without me too,
so please promise no more silent long days and love me forever,
forever and always.

her heart is gigantic. her talents are endless. her beauty is stunning. i can guess who she wrote it for, but it doesn't matter. it made my year that she shared it with me. my sweet angel.

photo courtesy of Justin Hackworth Photography.

my guardian was lost today

over the last three years, not one day has gone by that i haven't missed my gramps. he came and visited my grandma last night ... but i haven't seen him for a while. sometimes i dream about him. i think he is happy because the sun was shining today. i wish he was here. i wish i could see him smile. i miss watching the Jazz games with him. i even miss him fighting with my grandma. they yelled at each other constantly but i don't know two people that loved each other more.

sugar boyfriend!

prepare to be jealous. very, very, very jealous.

see this?

not impressed? guess whose sugary sweet boyfriend got her tickets to the San Diego show at the historical Spreckels Theatre?

mine! mine! mine!

birthday wishes do come true.

The National! The National! The National!

the tickets are down my pants right now.

sugary sweet birthday

Today is my birthday. One the best things about being born on February 7th is that the Super Bowl falls on your birthday about every five years. This year is one of those years. Sure I'd love to be in Miami watching the game, but sitting in my pajamas and being with my daughter is heaven to me. I can't wait for the game and I am equally excited to see The Who perform at halftime. Pretty sweet birthday.

When I blow out my invisible candles today, I'll simply wish for The National to keep making music. It speaks to my soul. Especially today. I can't explain it. So I'll leave it at that.

And this:

How a person begins to rot.

It is Saturday morning and it is raining outside. I woke up around 7:30 am with a headache and haven't been able to go back to sleep. I don't mind the headache, though. I haven't had a hangover for a long time and the pain was a pleasant reminder of last night: a much needed girls night with two of my sisters and several girlfriends.

I tried to wake up Nick and explain to him that today is the last day I can check the younger-ish box on forms like this:

After tomorrow, I am officially in the 35-49 range! He said that some forms list 25-39. Either way, I am having a little bit of anxiety about turning 35. I was down with 30. But this one, it hurts a little. Most people wouldn't guess I am 35 but I am not sure if that is a good or bad thing. When their jaws drop and they slowly mouth "thirty-five" I don't know if I should be like, 'hell yea 35 never looked so good!' or 'hell yea I am really that fucking old.' Anyway, I'm going to go fill out a bunch of forms today just because I can. Let the rotting begin!

How A Person Begins To Rot

by Carly

The Beginning

I have been rotting lately and I mean that literally. For the last few days I thought I had the flu. My body temp was around 93 degrees, I was going into shock, I went in and out of semi-comas ... it just kept getting worse. I was confused and kind of crazy. Okay, really crazy. And really depressed and frustrated because I had just recovered from a case of the 10-day flu. Odd.

Anyway, no flu. I was hours away from renal failure and inevitable death. (And before anyone freaks out, please know I am perfectly healthy and the rotting has been reversed, removed, stopped, resolved, whatever.) It was a traumatic experience, and I mean traumatic. I now know what a decomposing body smells like. Rot. The rancid smell still lingers in the house today, reminding me that at 35 years old, a person begins to rot. Now I know the affects an atrophic body has on the brain. The whole experience gave me a new outlook on life. Perhaps it explains why I have been so mean and rotten lately. (Coincidentally, it also explains why old people are so mean.)

Symptons

I glanced at a few articles and 35 is the factual age when the rotting process begins. Here are some things I learned from my research:

> After age 35, women lose up to 1 percent of their bone mass each year (rotting bones).

> Getting pregnant after age 35 is risky (because of your rotting ovaries).

> At 35 your skin stops regenerating cells. (and I assume starts rotting?)

> PH balances in women over 35 change and they start looking old immediately.

> 35 year old women will start to gain weight, rapidly.

> At age 35, women start to notice pigment changes of moles.

> Around 35 women will notice pre-menopause symptoms.

> Night sweats in elderly women are common.

It's all there. Clinical studies have shown it. Sweet mother Mary of Jesus.

Coping with the Rot

Please don't tell me to be optimistic; let me get it out. I don't need any opposing points of view on this one. It's a crisis. It's inevitable. We're all going to rot. Today I am still youthful and attractive ... tomorrow, well, my driver license won't be the only thing expired.

Now. The upside. Once the putrefaction stopped inside my body, I started to feel better emotionally and had a much clearer perspective. I realized that I have been rotten in nature--to my family, the poor people at Wells Fargo, people on TV, animals, pretty much anyone I came into contact with. I have even been extremely cantankerous to my boyfriend, whose rotting guts I love. So, duly noted. I mean, Sharon has always been a little rowdy but I do feel bad about my family and boyfriend.

Lastly, I would like to tell you how a person can reverse the rotting process or at least make it somewhat tolerable. While I was in bed, my body internally decaying, Nick came home and brought me a plastic bag with three things in it: Junior Mints, a Coke, and a used copy of Don Quixote. I am not sure that in my organs-shutting-down state I let him know how in love I was with his gift and him. It was thoughtful, adorable, perfect, sweet, subtle, considerate and meant so much to me. Don Quixote. Awesome. He just knew.

You can also either slow down or speed up the rotting process with alcohol. Depending on how much you drink, what you drink, how often, etc. I find that it kills bacteria so I am going to ignore the articles about the speeding up part.

The End

So that is the long version of how a person begins to rot. Now I have to go take care of my grandma, who I think is very rotten (inside, no offense) and may be dying. She's very ill.

Dedicated to my Jakovasaur

So sentimental

Not sentimental no !

Romantic not disgusting yet...

So you saved the world? Big deal.

i had a dream the other night that i saved the world. it went like this:

those still alive on the planet knew that destruction was near so all survivors gathered around for a pearl jam concert as the anticipated flames of the fire (that was destroying the earth) encroached towards us.

i, unwilling to accept eradication of the world, used my powers to turn the fire into a huge tarp of some kind and threw it down on the other side of the mountain. it wasn't even that hard. i told the news stations my name was jill so they wouldn't harass me and ran back to the concert. i think i was unwilling to accept the end of pearl jam more than life. as a reward, eddie called "jill" up on stage. i had dreamed about this day for so long! i was standing next to him, studying every line in his face and watching his hair occasionally catch a piece of ash, when i realized that the band didn't care about me. they didn't give a shit that i had saved the world.

eddie vedder acted like i was just another fan that had some kind of disease or special talent. she's fighting cancer or can sing 'Alive' in three languages. alright jill! in fact, the most memorable part was eddie and jeff yelling at me each time i spoke into the mic because i forgot to "push the button!" god, jill is stupid.

after i was ushered off the stage, i felt almost embarrassed.

it reminded me of my childhood and being embarrassed to tell people when i did something good. like when i wrote a book or won a contest. i don't know if it's because i thought people would make fun of me, or if it was simply because i was a huge nerd. (no, seriously, i was still playing "private detectives" and "office workers" when i was in high school.)

and now as i watch my daughter go to Junior High and get embarrassed over EVERYTHING, it breaks my heart. by thirteen, our dreams and fantasies and hopes become unrealistic and we settle for mediocrity because we don't look like the airbrushed people driving around Beverly Hills. why? if we believed in ourselves like my 6-year-old niece believes in herself, we'd be something amazing. but who is going to stand up and yell "I am the most beautiful girl in all the land!!!!" at 34? or even 18? no one. because people would laugh.

it is discouraging. and i'll be the first to admit that i often repress more than self-confidence. sometimes i squash out good ideas, gut feelings, all emotion, or feelings of happiness. it's been a rough year. the future feels bleak. can we change it? i just want to be happy. i just want to smile. i don't want to carry a bag around of bad memories, fights, resentment, and shitty experiences. i crave just simple happiness, that's all. even if it means having a mullet, not being cool, and making home movies all day. because those were the happiest days of my life.