Well, I have yet again managed to miss my meloversary. Every year I tell myself, next year, next year I'll remember. And every year groundhog's day rolls passed without me batting an eyelash. What a silly tradition. I tell myself those same words ever year, at the well wishing people around me. Who, unwittingly, remind me of what I will always forget. Maybe I'm doomed to live out the same groundhog's day like Bill Murray. Maybe I've just got a few more weeks of winter ahead of me.

broke up with john
my depression/schitz is acting up
my room mate is getting on my nerves
my sex life is dead because everyone seems to think I'm out of their "league."

FUCK THIS SHIT

Ashland, Bimiji, North Dakota, Montana, Idaho, Seattle, San Fran, then up through Reno and the Tetons, Through South Dakota (the badlands, wal-drug etc.), Back to Southern Minnesota to my home town, then back to Ashland.

Me and Courtney are going to take the trip. She's never seen the Ocean and I've never done a big roadie without my mom. I'm pumped. We have the money, we just have to go.

June, here we come.

My best friend's fiancee told me he is in love with me last night
this morning he tried to kiss me... with her in the room...
Then again two more times, after she stormed out.
It took a long time to get him out of my room.
Why did he have to drag me into his cold feet?
What the fuck? Can't I have some sane friends.
She forgives him.
We live together, where the hell does that leave me?

REPORTING FROM SAN FRANCISCO -- Updated 11:18 a.m.: Justices of the California Supreme Court seemed reluctant today to override the will of the people as expressed by the narrow majority vote to effectively ban gay marriage with Proposition 8.

I figured I should update you guys on what I'm up to -- even if there are only a few of you who read my melo.

My semester is amazingly scheduled. I didn't register for classes until the day before classes started and somehow I managed to make the best class schedule ever! I'm taking all Education courses. Math for Elementary teachers is 11:30 am to 12:30 pm is Monday and Wednesday and I don't have to go to class. The work is computer based and I only go into class if I don't understand the concepts in the textbook. 6:30 pm to 8:30 pm I have Growth and Cognition, which should be a better class than it is. We do ten hours of classroom observations, learn about learning development, and cognitive skills. Great class. Crap teacher. Tuesday and Thursday I have Foundations of Education at 9:00 to 10:30 am with an awesome Proff and then 2:30 to 3:50pm Children's and Young Adult Literature. Children's Lit is freegin AMAZING! Great Proff, interesting curriculum, skills I will actually use, connections between textbook, homework, and in class stuff. Jesus christ, who knew classes could actually set students up to be successful. Friday I have no classes and I don't even think I have to explain how awesome that is.

I think my grades are going to be decent. I've been turning in all my work. I've been studying. I've been being a good student and trying to limit my running around time. I tried to not get into any sort of extracurricular activities this semester. I was finagled into helping the Fourth Wall with their Shakespeare Project. I'm reading Puck's monologue about Titania falling in love with a donkey. I'm also doing a back and forth with Mutt from Taming of the Shrew. It should be fun, we'll see if I can handle it.

I'm still will John, the boy I fell for after new years. I have gone and visited him and he has come up and staid with me. The long distance thing has actually been quite nice. I'm not distracted by him constantly, we spend most of our time talking about life, liberty, love, and the pursuit of happiness. When we are together we is sweet and affectionate. I fell in love with him all over again when he asked me to instruct him on how to make a sandwich. He recognizes that I like things a certain way and like to see me smile when things do go the way I like. I think he has learned how to love me, I'm still working on it. I love him, so much. Sometimes it kills me that I don't have a way to really express my love for him. He has his music. I have my words. When he sings to me... I melt. I love him. I love his family. I love that he doesn't have a job. I love that he is just trying to find his way in the world and doesn't want to have to compromise. I love how when I wake up in the morning the first thing he does is kiss me. Even when I'm sick, sore, and crabby he still is nurturing and understanding. I love that boy. We're going very well. The only thing I see being a problem is that I want stability and he is a wanderer. We shall see. So far, I am happy.

I got my job back, so to speak. I am working for the same boss, in the same building, I'm just working on event set up instead of at the information desk. I don't have to interact with people, just set up chairs. I think I would rather work at the desk, but I think I'll be making a bit more money doing this.

I have a ear-sinus-jaw infection that has been going on for a few months. It was mistreated once and now I'm on over the counted stuff and feeling a lot better. I can finally hear again, so I'm happy with that.

My friend Courtney may be moving into my room for a while until she can afford living off campus again. She'd pay me cash to live in my single with me. Scamming the college basically. I'm not saving as much money as I could if she legit moved in, by hey, I was going to pay for a single anyways.

Not really much else to say right now. I'm pretty drugged up so I can hear, so I'm not to cognitive.

Much love,
Zoe

One.
Speak your truth.
Listen when others speak theirs too.
When you let go of fear, you will learn to love others,
and you will let them love you.
Do not be afraid of dying.
But do not be afraid to live.
Ask yourself what that means.
Open your heart to love, for that is why you're here.
And know that you are, and always have been One
with Me and all who live.


-Melody Beattie

A New Year

My mom is "stuck" in Hawaii, because some flight got cancelled.

My aunt and uncle are off to Texas.

My grandfather is in Florida, spending his last days in the sun.

My brother and his girlfriend are in Illinois.

So it's just me.

Merry Christmas.

When I was a young child I used to suck my thumb. Even when I had third degree burns over my left hand I still put the very tiny tip of my thumb, which stuck out above the bandages, against my lips. No one could get me to stop and as I got older my mother became more and more frustrated. She tried everything. One day while at my grandparent's house, I was watching TV with my grandpa. I didn't have TV at my house so I was glued to any TV within eyeshot. I was sucking my thumb as usual. We sat in the two big, blue upholstered, mating lazy-boy chairs. My grandfather looked over at me from his chair and said, "You know, Zoe, princesses don't suck their thumbs." I turned and looking him straight in the eye, my thumb still in my mouth. I took my thumb out of my mouth and said, "Little ones do." My mom says she never saw me with my thumb in my mouth again.

Looking back many of my fondest memories are in that tiny blue house by the highway. My grandfather's chair was always full of change that had fallen out of his pockets. We grandkids would always plead with him to be allowed to search the chair. Sometimes you would lift the chair and shake it and nothing but dust would come out from the underside of the chair. On certain occasions, if you were really lucky, you could lift up the chair and find as much as a few dollars in nickels and quarters. I was the youngest and definitely the wimpiest grandchild, so I could not lift the chair to check for coins. If I asked my brother or cousins to help they would take the shiny loot for themselves, so I would ask grandpa. He would tilt the chair forwards and shake it and I can't remember a time we came up empty.

I used to hate going to my grandparent's house because of their dog, Harry. Harry was a poodle who my grandmother adored. Harry liked my grandmother, he also liked humping things, eating, and pooping. Harry was high strung, even for a poodle. Somehow my brother and I had ended up in my grandpa's care that particular day and he had taken us to McDonald's. Grandpa never let us open toys unless we were in the place we were going to play with them. He said we would lose them. So I spent the whole car ride home eyeing up my Robin (as in Batman and Robin) action figure. Looking back, it must have killed my grandpa that I wanted a boy happy meal toy instead of the girl one. In any case, we got to the house and I was finally allowed to open my toy. I broke the bag and propped Robin up on the TV tray I had sitting in front of my seat on the couch. I went to grab my bag of food from the kitchen and when I came back Harry had taken the toy off the tray. He had it in his mouth and was chewing on it. I tried to take it away from him and he bit me. I still have the scar in the webbing of my right hand pinky from that dog. Grandma had taken me to the bathroom and cleaned out the cut. It didn't occur to me until later on that I got the toy back after that. My grandpa had gotten it away from the dog and washed it off.

All my days spent playing in their antique store, while he minded the store; all the times he humored me while I drew crude portraits of him. They are actually the only drawings on the fridge. The only card on the fridge, come to think of it, is a Father's day card I made for him when I was sixteen. I drew goofy stick figures of my mom, brother, and me and signed the card: "love always, Zoe (the only grandchild yet to piss you off)" It was a playful attempt at a joke on the fact that all the other grandchildren have disappointed him in one way or an other. My brother is an anarchist, Abbey never graduated from high school, Jessica got arrested, Mark "never got a real job" (he works as a security guard and competes professionally in martial arts competitions), Amy "got fat" (which she did -- a little -- but I don't think he should be as upset over that one as he makes it clear that he is), Sam and Claire are the newest additions to the grandchildren and they have always misbehaved and their mother doesn't really talk to the rest of the family anymore, so... they are out by association. The only thing I have is that I date girls, which he doesn't know. Well, my aunt knows, so he might. He hasn't ever said anything about it.

When I ran away from home it was my grandpa who found me and brought me home. He didn't know I had run away. He just found me pedaling my one speed purple schwin bike down the highway and stopped and picked me up. I had given up by that point and was just scared and wanted to go home. I was even headed back towards town when he found me. He pulled his car over and hopped out. He saw that I was crying and called me to him. He hugged me and asked, "do you want me to take you home?" I nodded and he did just that. He never said an other word about it.

He taught me how to shoot a basketball, how to hold a rabbit so they wouldn't squirm out of my hands, and how to gargle mouthwash without swallowing. Sometimes he even let me sit on his lap, or even more rarely, hold the remote.

I remember that TV room like the back of my hand. The old wooden butter churn and the family portrait. The ratty old his and hers chairs next to one an other in front of the TV and the brown and orange tweed sofa pressed against the back wall. The couch was always moved to the other wall in December to accommodate a large christmas tree. My grandmother always used to decorate the house from ceiling to floor and her tree was always beautiful. I've never been one for holidays, but boy did my grandmother know how to trim a tree. We were not allowed to play with any of the decorations, many of them were breakable or antique. I do remember playing with one thing every year: the train under the tree. It isn't anything fancy, just a little steam engine and a track that hooks together in a ring around the tree skirt. When my grandmother died in 1998 we were all asked if there was anything we wanted from her things. I asked for the train and nothing else. My grandfather was reluctant to give it up and in the end he kept the tiny locomotive.

He is sick now. His boy is falling apart faster and faster every day. He blood platelet levels are dangerously low, the doctors can't seem to figure out what is wrong with him. He has started to get his affairs in order. Today he asked my mother to help him sort through boxes to see what should be passed on to his children and what he should burn. He is an old fashion German-Polish farmer. Things are inherited or thrown out, with the exception of expensive things that can be sold. He made boxes for each of his children but refused to go as far as to separate things for the grandkids. He said it would be too much and we could "figure it out on our own." My mom spent the day sorting with him and at the end of the day he gave her one thing to take home. Not her box of things, but the train from under the christmas tree. He said she was to give it to me, because he promised he would.

Me and my grandpa have were never very close --at least, we never hug or twirled or snuggled -- but I love my grandpa heart and soul. I haven't shown that to him enough.

I hope he makes it to one last Christmas. I hope he makes it until I get home. I hope he makes it.

Wednesday night I was supposed to go to Chicago to see Amanda Palmer in concert with my good friend (and ex-girlfriend) Erika. I am trying to get my academic life back together and knew that I would have to miss class to go. I would have to miss Ecology, which I had already arranged to do earlier in the semester (saying I had to go to a wedding), but it is the last week before finals and I need all the help I can get. I needed to turn in some paperwork for my petition to withdraw from two of my classes. I also would have had to miss a study session for my Math class. I buckled down and said I couldn't go to the concert. I knew that it would have been fine to miss my class and the study session didn't need to be Wednesday, I could have rescheduled and turning in the paperwork would have only taken a few seconds. Even though I knew these things something inside of me thought that I needed to be back Thursday at a reasonable hour. That was the thing that turned the scale, this inner itch to spend Thursday night on campus. I knew that, though Erika said we would be back Thursday morning, we wouldn't be back until early Friday morning.

I went to Ecology class that afternoon. The class was short, we were given printed notes and ended up getting out of class 15 minutes early. I could have skipped it. I turned in my paperwork, which took only a few seconds and my study session was short. I knew all material and it was nothing more than a bit of practice. I went home and studied for a bit, then went to my friend's dorm room to watch Casablanca. An uneventful day all in all.

Thursday I had no classes. I spent most of my day working on my novel and straightening up my room. At 7:00 pm I went to the Gay-Straight Alliance -- which I am a leader in -- and had the most unproductive meeting. We double checked who was going to an Education conference we are going to in February and I left early to go watch "The Office". After "The Office" was over me and my Office buddies sat around and knitted, talking about the episode. After I while I decided it was time to go back to my dorm room and was saying my good-byes when my cell phone rang. It was my friend Yote, who was walking to work, he asked me if our friend Mel was ok. He was in front of her house and there were five fire trucks and flames billowing out the upstairs window.

I had my boots on and was out the door before he finished his sentence. I ran to their house and could see the flashing lights and smoke before I saw the house. There were no flames as I approached the house, but there was a throng of people huddled across the street from the house. As I sprinted to the house I scanned the group, looking for my friends who lived in the house. I spotted Jess first. I ran to her.
"Is everyone ok?" I asked, out of breath.
"Yes, everyone is fine," she said, her blank stare never left the pillar of smoke coming out of the window.
I found them all one by one, they are all fine. The firemen got their cats out of the house in time and they were in the back of someone's car with the heat on.
The girls needed someplace to go, not to sleep (they had a million beds that everyone offered to them), just to get their bearings. They asked to go to my room and we did. He opened my bottle of Spanish wine and took a moment to step back and breathe.


Maybe it was that I really was being a responsible student but something inside of me pulled. I knew I had to be here Thursday night... I don't know what or how, but it did.

Maybe it was coincidence but, ashes to ashes and dust to dust I was glad I was here and I'm glad all my friends are ok. They may have nothing left but the clothes on their backs and each other, that is so much more than the fire took away.

Well, let's see if I can get my semester back on track. One more week of classes, then finals. I'm dropping my art class and my lit class. It will be a bit of a waste of a semester, but at least I have my shit together now.

My room is clean and my laundry is all clean. I have an ear infection again so I can't really hear. I have antibiotics from a while ago, I'm going to take those for about a week or ten days, we'll see how long it takes to be able to hear again and not to be in constant pain.

My new medication is going well. I have a follow up appointment Wednesday to get a real prescription, not the samples I'm on right now.

I have two alarms set and no excuses. I have a meeting with an advisor to get registered (finally) and I should be all good... well, better. Better is better than bad.

I don't have hope just yet, but I do have cautious optimism.

Wish me luck.

Whoops, double post.

I've been stuck on a story I've been writing. It isn't that I havn't had ideas... they are just all bad ideas.

On my roadtrip home I figured it out. I have my story.


Now, I just have to write it.