tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73882062011-11-27T20:49:21.333-04:00Dear diary meets Bridget Jones. A little bit of everything mixed in together. Move over Fear and loathing in Las Vegas, meet Weird and Bored in CanadaPeabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.comBlogger871100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-52669608953745558452011-02-17T14:38:00.004-04:002011-02-17T14:41:24.397-04:00

“When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us.”~Alexander Graham Bell   This won't be me, I vow. You'll regret losing me one day mightily. But not me. I was fearless and I put myself and my love out there for you. It will come back to me in so many ways. You won't, but that's your, and

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-40168448455957165712011-02-14T11:19:00.000-04:002011-02-14T11:19:43.052-04:00

Two weeks since making my world fall apart. I still think about you.  That's me, pick pick pick, but it had to be done. Ten years is a long time to let the chips ride on 'love' and let the roulette wheel keep spinning. You love to gamble, not me. I bet it doesn't even bother you. Never did. That little ball, bouncing on the wheel. My fate always in the balance. You were never going to let the

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-2629923670726785272011-01-29T11:20:00.002-04:002011-01-29T11:22:09.128-04:00

When life hands you heartache, build a bridge . . . and get the hell over it

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-78577947710980434122011-01-25T09:09:00.004-04:002011-01-25T09:21:51.963-04:00

I'm jealous a lot lately. I envy, I want. I hate those that possess what I want. I feel like Tolkien's Gollum, whispering silently to my inner demons, trapped in a prison of wanting.  I never thought of it as jealousy exactly, or of myself as a 'jealous person'. Surprise, surprise I am! Only for one object, I think to myself. Even then, I know it's not healthy. Comparisons are hard stuff when you

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-85453772763782969292011-01-25T08:08:00.000-04:002011-01-25T08:08:34.388-04:00

I, personally, believe that Newton's three laws of motion are the 'Golden Rules' for life. Newton's three laws are all about one thing: Balance. This is what physics, and life, are all about.  I just finished reading/watching the pop-culture phenomenon that is 'Eat, Pray, Love'. The whole thing was whiny, and oh-so-Westernized, but seemed to hinge on that one, little word: Balance. Little word,

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-54333422505370637592010-01-25T13:09:00.004-04:002010-11-02T21:38:50.868-03:00

I don't know.

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-11770849039839723142010-01-21T23:08:00.004-04:002010-11-02T21:40:09.485-03:00

I can't trust you. I know I can't. It's a mistake I've made one-too-many times. The definition of crazy is to do the same thing over and over and expect a different result. Hello, crazy. Population me. I'm crazy, but I'm finally learning to over-come my stupidity. Where you are concerned anyway. It's that always-missing pieces to the puzzle, clues and hidden things. Secrets are the most deadly

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-20289195557820291272010-01-17T11:33:00.001-04:002010-11-02T21:35:13.709-03:00

A lifetime of seconds. It's a lot of time and yet it's not. Our life is segmented into so many units of time. One year, one week, one hour, one minute, one second. In each one your life can change so much more than you ever expected. I woke up this morning. I was bored. The seconds ticked by as they always do. Like an endless march of ants in a line, flowing past me. What do I care? So I open my

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-73765740285128991372010-01-16T01:56:00.003-04:002010-11-02T21:34:45.882-03:00

Can't sleep. Lots to tell the blogosphere abut what's been going on laterly. But not tonight, definitely not tonight. I decided I'd take a risk. Be brave. Be honest. I'll lay it all bare, all the crazy, private thoughts I've had and let you fend for yourself. No, I never hated you, but hurt does funny things to people. Once, my greatest nightmare was letting people in. Not 'pushing you away'

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-87035400266763042052009-05-14T23:06:00.003-03:002010-11-02T21:34:10.846-03:00

So I'm there. I have on my Calvin-good-butt-Klein jeans. I wore contacts. Contacts! Literally stuck my finger in my eye. Apparently kissing with glasses is awkward. Who knew? I've had them for four years, I haven't tried kissing with them yet. Just to be on the safe side. I wore make-up, perfume, I freakin' well blow dried my hair. Things I never do. I wore heels (a tiny test to see if he'd

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-17917881419792717592009-04-11T19:10:00.002-03:002010-11-02T21:32:55.926-03:00

It's an interesting question. I'd like to answer with something wild, implausible, fun, sexy, mysterious, crazy & adventurous. Instead, I know exactly where I am geographically. The problem is that I have no idea where I am metaphorically. All over the map? Almost perversely, the more lost I feel mentally the more I like to spend financially. I'm currently considering a car as an impulse

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-40339955327138874012009-03-22T17:52:00.005-03:002010-11-02T21:32:18.909-03:00

This is what my mother constantly mis-names the internet. It's being "on the line" to her. I've been trying to teach her to use a computer. To, kicking and screaming, try and make her self-sufficient in a digital age. Although, this seems odd, because I'm not sure I can really be classified as that. A case of the blind leading the blind in a world full of razors. I've reached a point where I

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-27021353132279654742008-12-05T19:12:00.003-04:002010-11-02T21:31:41.068-03:00

The beautiful Pippa-Squeak All this time, all this energy. So much struggle, pain, stress. I love you. What's the whole point of all this? Ironic. I'm not having kids to avoid this kind of pain. I want you to be safe, and healthy, and happy. I'd give anything to give you the world. You're not 'just' anything to me. Is that so wrong? Ironic. I hate you for making me care. I'm an awful person

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-41754902575050519572008-10-10T07:48:00.003-03:002010-11-02T21:28:56.379-03:00

When does having faith become a liability? At what point do people really deserve your worse-er judgement. I once remember having a lightbulb moment where I heard people talk about 'love' as though it were something people did not felt. If that`s the case, what`s the statute of limitations on being treated badly and still having faith that someone you love loves you? We all want to think the

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-58134385972400206912008-08-20T23:37:00.003-03:002010-11-02T21:28:31.292-03:00

So that's blatant plagarism. Pfffffffffffft. Stick it. Why can't I ever leave well enough alone? There is a fine line between Type 'A' and stalker. I should know, I have had a few. I am a stalker, who waits for prey to come to me, then obssesses to an unnatural, and veeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeery unhealthy degree. Oh, and who the hell came up with Facebook? It's like a bloody paradise for freaks like

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-17736704347318575502008-08-19T21:52:00.005-03:002010-11-02T21:28:02.320-03:00

So I am going to go ahead and go on a date. I know it's stupid. I know it's going to end with me crying, a bottle of vodka, and umpteen lurid curses on Facebook. So why am I doing it? Because, how can I not? If you have the dice in your hand, you have to throw them. If you see the penny you have to pick it up. Because to not do it, against all better judgement and reasonable sense borne of

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-79218670699480129062008-08-15T12:40:00.004-03:002010-11-02T21:24:48.078-03:00

You said all the right things. How I was meaningful, special. How you missed me. How I was different--but I'm not. I never will be. I keep searching for someone who will say "amazing, unique, perfect just as you are (imperfections and all)". All I've ever found is, "you're not special, or unique, but you'll do". I'm just rank, file & number. No different than any of them. It's true. Nothing

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-46668576695076962032008-07-06T13:24:00.009-03:002010-11-02T21:21:08.453-03:00

I am exactly one month out from being completely out of the dreaded Student-Loan-Debt. Yay, only missed my pay-off goal of 24 months from graduation by 2! Yay! Then I can start aggressively pursuing the prime debt of your thirties, the I-bought-a-house-and-have-a-mortgage debt. However, I'll be 2-3 years early, so another yay! It finally hit me--I am an adult. I always thought that this moment,

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-70980024688829191122007-12-31T09:04:00.001-04:002010-11-02T21:18:19.632-03:00

It's been over six months since my last post. I used to hyper-analyse all things about my life. Now I have enough time to blink with remorse over things gone wrong before I hit the sack---at a whopping 9:30pm. So, on New Year's, I can't help but be a little contemplative. I always make resolutions. Some standard (get organized, lose weight), some not so conventional (launch campaign to kill all

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-69887758914658525742007-06-24T21:08:00.002-03:002010-11-02T21:09:35.430-03:00

I tried internet dating. My first foray (virtually) into the world of personals . How do you fil out a form, advertising yourself like a weird, discount sales item? What do you say?  Do you go for truth in advertising: overweight, emotionally messy,  crazywoman, 26, too close to her neurotic family (the ones to whom she speaks), two guinea pigs, no cats, with horrible interpersonal skills seeks

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-82437379883649222602007-06-03T00:04:00.001-03:002010-11-02T20:59:11.386-03:00

Inukshuck photo from: http://www.skagway.com Facebook. Privacy. People seeing things they shouldn't, saying things they shouldn't, lives being ruined by lives on display. It made me think about what, knowingly and unknowlingly, we expose of ourselves to the outside world. Most people want their most private thoughts and pain to be secret. Or do they? There is something strangely comforting

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-4402174320778944542007-04-22T21:33:00.001-03:002010-11-02T20:46:49.988-03:00

I am so lonely I feel like I am hollow. Like starving children in Africa. Their bodies become so desperate for nourishment that they literally begin to eat themselves from inside out. I feel like I have so little to offer they I could bury myself alive and no one would care. Work makes me happy. I'm not designing the building, but just to know that I am a part of their creation makes me happy.

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-82767745412426910852007-04-09T12:58:00.001-03:002010-11-02T20:46:24.817-03:00

Six more men died. On the anniversay or vimmy ridge. Does no one else see the utter heartbreak that on an anniversary of the war to end all wars, we are at war and young men and women are dying needlessly? I don't just men the armed services over there. We at least hear about them. What about all the lives lost? All the children of men and women who go to their graves. Over what? Don't take

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-44769733394238166052007-04-06T12:09:00.001-03:002010-11-02T20:44:26.313-03:00

I have a birthday every year. Everybody does. What separates my birthday from your average, run of the mill cake eating spree is the severity of horror. I don't mean panic about my age.  I've never been 'cool', 'hip' or 'with-it' so the loss of those things with time isn't a problem.  The problem is that every year my life seems to get less satisfying, more complicated and I  miss the mark on

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-76600137391009502182007-03-13T20:49:00.001-03:002010-11-02T16:06:56.761-03:00

I kind of hate the world right now. I don't know what to do anymore, except for the fact that I don't want to BE me anymore. All that's done so far is make it worse. 

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-72872558783184396582007-03-11T19:31:00.001-03:002010-11-02T16:05:58.398-03:00

Now, for starters you are probably thinking this isn't possible. I must not be a real vegetarian. I must cheat. Real vegetarian are sylph-like, earth mother, patchouli scented goddesses who do Yoga and eat bowls of bulgar--and like it. I am not. Nor have I ever been. I've been a vegetarian for 13 years now. But a painful fact remains : I don't think I've ever even cooked bulgar, I think I'm a "

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-59173819739684067982007-02-05T22:46:00.002-04:002010-11-02T16:03:54.092-03:00

I swear to god, I just had this snippet of conversation with a guy I used to like. Why do these things come out of my mouth? This, this is why I am single Me: You're not much into goofy are you? Ok, I'll knock it off R: Goofy was cool. So much better than Pluto Me: Yeah, he's not even a planet anymore R: Poor puppy Me: Is it only Donald Duck that doens't wear pants? R: Yes, but he does wear a

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-75868943304228714332007-02-05T21:31:00.001-04:002010-11-02T16:00:16.755-03:00

February 05/2007 12:30 pm. I am sitting in the office after hearing some rather strange/unexpected news. J* is pregnant. Everyone else in the office seems to have already known. Just a short while ago it seemed like she hadn’t made up her mind on the subject. I guess now the decision is somewhat made for her? Holy Mary, mother of God . . . J. is just two years older than me—and she is having

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-82245260101756544332007-01-26T21:17:00.001-04:002010-11-02T15:57:26.195-03:00

I have a problem. I don't know how to fix it. Contrary to AA admitting you have a problem is not the first step on the road to recovery. Knowing what the flying fuck to do after you realise you have a problem is the first step to recovery. My problem is this needling doubt about my reviews. I don't love any of the men that I once was involved with. I never did. So why can't I completely let go

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-57280632339571040222007-01-25T19:54:00.001-04:002010-11-02T15:54:40.033-03:00

Blood red. Blood lust. Bloody Rage. Blood and Sand. Bloodless. Life's blood.  In my attempt to be a better human being, I just went and donated blood. I was given a nerf ball to squeeze, apparently I am an under-performer at bleeding, and spent my time pondering the essence of our life--in fluid form. We can feel it pumping through our veins(apparently some of us better than others). It can

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-59306324774816647832007-01-20T14:15:00.001-04:002010-11-02T15:45:53.182-03:00

I'm in the middle of a conversation with this guy. I feel like I'm 20 again. Have you ever had a conversation with someone where you sit accross from them and they pour their heart out to you about this "hottie" they're totally into?(p.s. it's not you). I hate these conversations. Why do I keep having these conversations? Why am I never the hottie?

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-41484011069402706702007-01-14T12:18:00.001-04:002010-11-02T15:44:27.504-03:00

The only times I am really into introspection, and pouring my heart out, is when my life sucks. So, ipso facto, does this mean that during the gaps in this little log, that's when my life was good? Going on this premise, that means I could reasonably figure out all the best times in my life, their common thread, and try to create those patterns in the now. Are such mercilessly repeating

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1164426302119156432006-11-24T23:33:00.001-04:002010-11-02T15:41:49.475-03:00

It took me a long time to realize that I don't care if I'm cool. I never have been. The chances that I'll become so are slim to none. But I finally get Janis Joplin. In that tortured, husky, rapturous voice I can hear things that have transpired in my life and just get what she is singing, but never saying. I am 25, heading ever-faster into 26. My life is nowhere near where I thought it would

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1155332956343230842006-08-11T18:48:00.001-03:002010-11-02T15:34:31.399-03:00

Everybody plays the game "What would you do if you were fabulously wealthy?". Listening to the radio today and hearing the lottery fever gripping California, I decided to ask of everyone this very question. Some of the answers I've gotten so far? Hire a guy to follow me around so I have a soundtrack/theme-music for the rest of my life Buy a cottage in the Hamptons, travel the world Give a

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1154658289994336272006-08-03T23:13:00.002-03:002010-11-02T15:29:11.576-03:00

My family collects crazy like some people do stamps. I've never been entirely sure whether it's genetic, environmental, or a product of inbreeding. Who knows? You hate when people tell you that you're exactly like your mother or father? Well, in my case especially.  I seem to, and the things that happen in my life seem to, get crazier as time goes by. Last night, floating over my body, I

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1151946695620727772006-07-03T12:33:00.002-03:002010-11-02T15:26:32.162-03:00

When on the brink of a great discovery, what must Cabot, Columbus, and Lewis and Clark have felt? Did it make them queasy that their journey could end in disaster, even end their lives? There isn't much uncharted territory left on the map, but there is plenty of uncharted territory left in my life. I can't help but wonder what it is that separates the timid from the brave, the people willing to

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1151033714261054112006-06-23T00:23:00.002-03:002010-11-02T15:23:02.714-03:00

I'm not a smoker or much of a drinker. I'm no a gambler. I've never been a betting woman. I don't do drugs. My vice? I'm addicted to pain. I'm a junkie for misery. No matter how happy, somehow, someway, I manage to find a flaw, pick at it like a sore, and open a great, gaping wound. Someone recently asked me if I thought I was a negative or a positive person. I thought it was strange to phrase

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1148832096683186292006-05-28T12:42:00.002-03:002010-11-02T15:19:00.929-03:00

It's the masochistic streak in me. A brief flash of brilliance I discovered part of why men matter so much is that they are like my dad. How sick is that. They never think I'm quite good enough, are emotionally unavailable, and I spend my time never quite meeting with approval and every encounter leaves me puzzled and feeling vaguely the lack in me not them as should be. The draw. The moth to

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1146357976480541312006-04-29T20:39:00.002-03:002010-11-02T15:11:53.074-03:00

Do you believe in love at first sight? In true love? In soul mates? Is there such a thing as fate? I have big problems in life keeping that ideal in mind. My brain never stops, always picking, picking, picking. I'm like the little girl who always peeks her face out of the curtain at the school play, just because I need to know what's on the other side that I can't see. I have to see that second

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1145548793903203232006-04-20T12:50:00.001-03:002010-11-02T15:05:24.629-03:00

It's a fact that we, as humans, only use approximately 10% of our brains--if you are lucky. So, is that why do we do such stupid things? Why, in the face of overwhelmingly convincing evidence that something is a bad or stupid idea, why react without thinking first? Recently, I have been doing very stupid things on a very regularly basis. Why? I ask myself this question, often. The problem is I

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1138060514754847002006-01-23T19:47:00.002-04:002010-11-02T15:00:11.582-03:00

According to Sir Issac Newton, an object at rest will stay at rest unless an outward force is applied. So if the physics of life mirror the principles of actual physics--do we only change in life when someone or something crashes into us in a painful way? Is pain the force that keeps us moving forward? Friction is defined as the resistance created by two elements moving against one another.

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1137378039665181692006-01-15T22:18:00.001-04:002010-11-02T14:58:17.079-03:00

I’m lonely. Ironic, for a girl who has spent most of her life alone. It’s not that I am alone. I’m home,  surrounded by people, but I don’t feel the least bit connected to any of them. Friends, family, “well wishers”; yet I feel completely . . . apart. They are just talking heads in a circle that I’m at the center of. Every conversation I have lately seems like I’m being talked at not to.

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1136512380469280902006-01-05T21:25:00.001-04:002010-11-02T14:55:06.870-03:00

I got told I had hot lips. I dunno what that says about the rest of me, but ya gotta take what you get, right? Freaking out about this semester. I want to get in a good group. I don't know why I freak out so much--still panicked though. I think I totally pissed off George. Possibly Patrick. Which is really awful, because it wasn't intentional, blew all my good intentions. They are nice guys

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1136330698846585022006-01-03T19:20:00.001-04:002010-11-02T14:53:36.404-03:00

"The difference between 'Try' and 'Triumph'is nothing more than a little 'oomph'!"--Anonymous

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1135206007656968332005-12-21T18:49:00.002-04:002010-11-02T14:49:27.631-03:00

This is the formula that Cliff Arnall, a psychologist at Cardiff University has come up with to scientifically prove that new year's resolutions should, nay must, not be made on January the 1rst, but on May 18th. You heard it here first! I think I read somewhere the astronomically bad figure that around 90% of all those resolutions go the way of the doh-doh, and this is why folks. I have science

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1133483743052881702005-12-01T20:34:00.003-04:002010-11-02T14:34:08.912-03:00

Our society reveres strong men. In-control, take-charge, grab the bull by the horns (and their scrotum) men. Superman. He’s an “ideal” man.  . .one who uses glasses as a disguise, exposes himself in a phone booth, and wears a skin-tight spandex leotard with his underwear on the outside of his pants. I’m not knocking superheroes, but when did we go from being able to leap tall buildings in a

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1133305044196669782005-11-29T18:48:00.002-04:002010-11-02T14:49:49.610-03:00

So I'm thinking that I need to get myself a gay man. I've had enough with the straight ones. I'm not missing that much, and I can get all the shoe shopping, bitchy gossip, and someone who truly gets the meaning of "fine". The problem is, I gotta get myself some handsome lad without a lad of his own. I think it's a splendid idea, but how do you go about this? Put out an add SWF looking for HGM--

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1132628056519462202005-11-21T22:53:00.001-04:002010-11-02T14:50:18.111-03:00

“yes, yes, the quintessential battle between good and evil. God and the devil locked in an eternal, elemental battle for the fate of all your souls. Pfffffffffffffffffft. Spare me!” “So you’re saying there’s no God?” He asked quirking up his eyebrow. His cigarette sat on the table between us. Long, thin, white like chalky limestone, and even unlit I could smell the noxious chemicals that blended

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1132627755945398672005-11-21T22:31:00.001-04:002010-11-02T14:29:45.848-03:00

No, I mean literally. My apartment smells like fish. I don't know why and I can't tell from where. I have been wandering around for the last half hour playing "find that smell" and lemme say folks--not the best party game! It is driving me kind of crazy. I think this is like a literal metaphor for life currently. I hate irony. I can't believe it is almost x-mas. In two weeks I will be done my

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1132437216280930972005-11-19T17:36:00.001-04:002010-11-02T14:22:26.831-03:00

I'm in the midst of a little overhaul on myself. I sometimes wonder if other people go through these times when their own skin just feels wrong. I'm like a tree(a Maple I just learned) in that every so often I feel the need to just pick up and expand my rings. Maybe it's stress, plain impatience, but I feel like I am on the edge of a really big wave that is about to sweep something new into my

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1129459772728552302005-10-16T07:41:00.001-03:002010-11-02T14:53:08.084-03:00

I'm sick. Furthermore, I am sick of being sick. I am calling a moratoreom on the production of phlegm within my damn body. Enough with inventing better/newer/and improved control top panty hose-invent some damn drugs that work you scientists! I am not going through another cold season where I swig, swallow, and spray stuff up my nose that is soooooooo effective for my symptoms I might as well be

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1128984432664962112005-10-10T19:36:00.000-03:002005-11-15T19:41:42.580-04:00

YOU HAVE A NEW PLAYTOY, OH MY, HOW SPLENDIDBUT, WE TOO, WERE ONCE HAPPYAND LOOK WHAT YOU THEN DIDANGRY AND JEALOUSTHOUGH YOU DESERVE NOT A THOUGHTIT'LL ALL COME CRASHING DOWN ON YOUAND YOU'LL DESERVE WHAT YOU'VE GOTI DON'T WANT YOU BACKSO WHY THE RHYME?I DIDN'T REALLY LOVE YOUSO WHY WASTE MY TIME?BECAUSE YOU THINK YOU GOT AWAY WITH ITAND THAT YOUR NEW LOVE IS SO DEVINEBUT LAUGH ALL YOU BOTH WANT,

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1127668065372576562005-09-25T13:46:00.000-03:002005-09-25T14:07:45.380-03:00

There's an expression:"any man can be a father, but it takes a real man to be a dad". Every time I hear it I think of you, and not in the good way. My whole life you have been my father, but I have never thought of you as a dad. I call you that, sometimes even the ever-pathetic wheedling "daddy" but it doesn't mean what it should. I've never thought of you as my dad, or my friend, or a source of

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1125090666758725282005-08-26T17:35:00.000-03:002005-08-26T18:21:13.776-03:00

There once was a young girl who believed in fairy tales.That girl was me.I lived in a world where I thought magic was possible and that happyily ever after existed.Yet, like Humpty Dumpty, I fell, and no one knew how to put the pieces back together. A Sleeping Beauty, I sought refuge in endless slumber, but there were only nightmares there, and you can't live in a dream. The Big Bad Wolf tried to

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1123782611698612422005-08-11T14:38:00.000-03:002005-08-11T14:50:11.706-03:00

Shawn's mother is dying. It's not like we all aren't too, just, how can you bear to look into the eyes of someone who gave you life and know that soon they won't posess it themselves? I haven't visited because of two reasons. Call me shallow, but I am just too much of a weenie. I love her, but what would I say to her? I highly doubt weeping hysterically and throwing myself on her bed in despair

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1120687801684469712005-07-06T18:53:00.000-03:002005-07-06T19:10:01.690-03:00

So I've added to the pet collection. It never fails. I have glasses, I am now single, I am moving into what society deems spinsterhood ( well, ok, so 24 is not exactly that YET, but I'm working on it!) and so I went out and got another pet. This makes a grand total of two, so I am only a hop skip and twenty two away from being the crazy pet lady that the children fear and mock at the end of some

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1120077912495463582005-06-29T17:36:00.000-03:002005-06-29T17:45:12.500-03:00

Do you ever have the vague sense that maybe time has sped up on you, and you are just now realizing it? I mean, I swear yesterday I was twelve. I was sitting in class, half listening to a lecture on something or other obviously not so important because I don't remember what, and the rest of my brain was thinking up great things for the rest of my life. I blink, I cross my heart, I brush my teeth

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1118237709813631182005-06-08T10:10:00.000-03:002005-06-08T10:35:09.820-03:00

Hurray, hurrah, do a little dance, shake it all about. Almost all exams are done. Weehooo. Just one week of surveying, another tedious exam and I can get the hell outta dodge! So the pity party got a little out-of-control-manic-and-scary, but I was having a shitty day, a shitty month, and a shitty year. It's like the mother of all bad hair days that has lasted for 24 years. You can

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1117206332439694972005-05-27T11:52:00.000-03:002005-05-27T12:05:32.443-03:00

Well, it's been a while since I've written in my poor, neglected little blog. Things were seemingly going not too badly even, for a while. I guess this was perhaps the universe's idea of a practical joke? Dangle the perverbial carrot?So in the last two weeks I have spend way too much on gas, food I didnt need and shouldn't have eaten, been informed I am blind and have to get glasses ( I do so

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1115681545398247572005-05-09T20:29:00.000-03:002005-05-09T20:32:25.403-03:00

May misfortune rain down on him as a thousand shattered dreams. There is no redemption, only time. And time is only on my side

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1114387192988931692005-04-24T20:32:00.000-03:002005-05-09T12:52:18.640-03:00

When you break up, as all good relationship councilors, shrinks, or bitter divorced women will tell you is "Figure out what you learned." It makes sense. Why not at least take something away from this event in which I have lost so much? I am not referring to the man there by the way. So I decided to do some thinking and come up with some things I have learned, or as I like to think about it "

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1114206063355666162005-04-22T18:09:00.000-03:002005-05-09T12:48:29.236-03:00

Urban myths confuse me. Don't swim for half an hour after you eat, why not? Your belly cramps, your arms and legs don't fall off. Wear clean underwear in case you get hit by a bus. Ok, but if I get hit with a bus, I'm pretty sure cleanliness is not gonna be my worst problem. That, and if I see the bus about to hit me, it wouldn't be clean underwear anyway! Let's see, sugar will cure hiccups.

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1113782791562575292005-04-17T21:00:00.000-03:002005-04-17T21:06:31.563-03:00

I am so tired of being alone. I think the worst possible torture any human being can endure is to be completely and utterly alone. I was so close to being happy. I nearly had it, and then it all came crashing down as the illusion it was. So here I sit, 24 as of yesterday, and for at least 21 or 22 of those years I have been completely and utterly by myself.I never believed in happily ever after,

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1105746076484875942005-01-14T19:23:00.000-04:002005-01-14T19:41:16.483-04:00

Well, I am okay. 2005 finds me not much better or worse than the previous year. However, this will be my last entry in my ill fated blog. Why? Well, part of the problem--okay, problems-- I deal with is the inability to STOP analyzing, thinking, picking apart my surroundings. This is advised by the brand new shrink of 2005. This is healthy, but not happy development, but under Dr. Feel-good's

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1101516727321237832004-11-26T20:29:00.000-04:002004-11-26T20:53:48.410-04:00

So, I finally have a few days off, vacation from stress is what I thought. A few peaceful days where i could sleep lots and get lots accomplished, and be a little lazy, and pamper myself a little. That's what I thought. Instead I got sick the second I got here. I have got nothing accomplished. I feel like absolute shit. And most of all I am so depressed it is not even funny. I have gained a ton

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1100888229846078182004-11-19T13:58:00.000-04:002004-11-19T14:17:09.846-04:00

Play our Daily Trivia Game! New Questions Daily! Let's have three little cheers for impossibly high standards, shall we? I have noticed this really disturbing trend lately of everybody jeering me when I say I want 100% on everything that i do. I've always wanted this every time I've stepped inside a classroom since the first grade. Even I let it slip occassionally and just say "what the hell".

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1100645826146202792004-11-16T18:35:00.001-04:002010-11-02T15:15:10.166-03:00

Exhaustion and feedback. Basically, I have had so little energy lately that I am falling asleep at random points in the day. However, the good news is there are some, or at least one, person actually reading out there and you guys are filling me in on what you think. I must say WOO HOOO!!! This blog is a great outlet with or without readers, but hearing other people's opinions is always nice. One

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1100301601252683472004-11-12T19:19:00.000-04:002004-11-12T19:21:42.803-04:00

Play our Daily Trivia Game! New Questions Daily!

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1099397201228598022004-11-02T07:53:00.000-04:002004-11-02T08:06:41.230-04:00

Okay, so I am in the world's worst, although cheap apartment. Now I know why. There's always a catch. You can have a cheap apartment if the lights cost you an arm and a leg, and the rent will make you broke before the end of the year, and the wiring will cause thousands of dollars of damage to all your electrical appliance. Sure you can have a cheap apartment! Be my guest, it's alllllllllll yours

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1098047367399739092004-10-17T17:39:00.002-03:002010-11-02T14:46:34.087-03:00

It's a strange concept for a holiday, being thankful for things. So I got to thinking, does this have to be on a grand scale? Does everything you're thankful for have to be really major, or can it be anything? When you're facing down the ultimatum of you HAVE to be thankful for something, what would be the first thing that pops into your mind? Quite a few thoughts pop into my mind. None of

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1096374064459632822004-09-28T09:15:00.001-03:002010-11-02T12:29:52.131-03:00

So, I watched this movie "Shaun of the Dead" the other night. I hate Zombie movies as an aside. However, my real point here, is that in watching it I realized my fellow students reminded me a lot of the characters wandering around ponderously, moaning and eating brains, which by the way, may be the only way for some of my fellow compatriots to obtain that precious grey matter. I'm not being

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1095513672283644052004-09-18T10:02:00.001-03:002010-11-02T12:39:48.830-03:00

Money is a strange commoditity. It's a bit like deodorant--either it's working for you or it  isn't, and if it isn't? It stinks! Having lots of money doesn't guarantee anything. Having none doesn't guarantee the Gods will smile on you and give you lots either.  In order to succeed at becoming successful, I have to empty out my bank account, and then some. At every turn, I must go deeper and

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1094480223644362882004-09-06T11:07:00.001-03:002010-11-02T13:01:13.236-03:00

Ever heard the statement you can choose your friends, but not your relatives? Most of us go through our lives spending Christmas, Thanksgiving, Birthdays, and a whole bunch of other get togethers crammed into rooms with people we have nothing in common. How many of your relatives do you actually like? If these people did not share your DNA, would you be spending time with them? Would you answer

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1094270467865028212004-09-04T01:25:00.001-03:002010-11-02T12:48:07.431-03:00

Let's talk wobbly bottom, chunky thighs, and low self esteem. What really distinguishes "low" self esteem from being honest and realistic with oneself? To set out on answering this question let's look at some statistics. Seven out of ten girls age 8 to 13 say they are on a diet. Underage, and teenage girls are among the highest percentage to take up smoking. The reason they list most often? Image

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1093747445986635452004-08-28T23:26:00.001-03:002010-11-02T12:27:03.811-03:00

I have nothing left to live for. I'm sitting here, alone, in a new city, without a soul in the universe that I know. I sat at the other end of the couch this evening watching him and the cat cuddle. I realized just how alone I really am.  I am living with someone who doesn't listen to me, doesn't understand me. So what am I left with? Nothing. I have no recourse. I tried today, for the

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1093365055405739632004-08-24T13:13:00.001-03:002010-11-02T12:23:21.786-03:00

So, when is honesty the best policy? And when it's later discovered that your partner has lied, is it okay to be mad? I've heard the old myth that men will do almost anything to get what they want. However, up until yesterday, I did not buy into the stereotype. This, in itself, is depressing. Couple it with the lie and you have a crushing combination. Consider me fully crushed.  The

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1091974277605322612004-08-08T10:48:00.001-03:002010-11-02T12:15:57.068-03:00

I sent a letter to my dad to say, "Yes, I'm living with someone and you need to get over it and stop treating me like you don't know me". Good idea? No! However, and as with all  mistakes up-to-date, it cannot be undone. Oh, how I wish. If I had to make a list of things to undo,  you ask? Well: 1) Never have gone after M P 2) Never to have dated Stalker-Boy 3) To have just said no to C* the

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1091803281097945462004-08-06T11:29:00.001-03:002010-11-02T11:51:22.954-03:00

I guess the best possible outcome of any of this is to just live happily. Be nice, be friendly, do what I have to do. If I have to get a part time job to make ends meet, fine, that's what I'll do. Moving out , most of my contemporaries accomplished years ago. Now it's my turn. It's time to grow up and stop expecting a prince charming, a soul mate. I am responsible for me, and I will be the one

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1091576971894684182004-08-03T20:45:00.001-03:002010-11-02T11:43:29.461-03:00

Unfortunately, I squashed the frog on my first attempt I think. I hate it here. I want to leave so much. It was supposed to feel like home and I was supposed to like it. It hasn't happened yet.  C* keeps trying to be cuddly, but all I feel is strange. The whole he's lived with people before thing is popping up so much it's not funny. I lie there thinking "is this what it was like" and "he's

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1091204142854323432004-07-30T13:04:00.001-03:002010-11-02T11:37:47.028-03:00

I HATE STUDENT LOANS!! I hate how inefficient, disorganized, and just plain stupid these people are. I have been waiting forever. Time is ticking by and nothing. I can't afford the basics of life. I don't want ferrari's and mansions, I just want a  place I can call my own and a job I can say I do well and enjoy 70-80% of the time. Doesn't seem like that is ever going to happen. I don't want a

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1089805688730521082004-07-14T08:29:00.001-03:002010-11-02T11:32:27.058-03:00

I tried to "talk it over" and "express my feelings" on the subject, and I thought we'd reached this good conclusion--instead? I was proven right, a person can say something as many times as they want, but when their actions don't follow suit then things seem fishy. That's okay, I guess I can deal, just wish I could be normal like other people. The gold standard of normality, *sigh*. So

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1089121458012388602004-07-06T10:42:00.001-03:002010-11-02T11:19:56.349-03:00

So, the past week has been interesting. Found an apartment, except everyone in Moncton is a nazi about having pets. Damn. Maybe we'll (and by we I mean I'll ) find something better. 

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1088861904906859142004-07-03T10:36:00.001-03:002010-11-02T11:18:37.265-03:00

Combine all of these, plus a lack of a few of them and you get an equation that becomes unbalances, extremely volatile and unstable. Everybody I meet lately keeps saying how stressed I seem, and giving me suggestions how to fix it. See a shrink, get some sleep, meditate ( which to me is just sitting there being lazy, I have never, and will never reach a transendental state without the use of

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1088041204761266532004-06-23T22:39:00.000-03:002004-06-23T22:40:04.760-03:00

e. e. cummings: yes is a world / & in this world of yes live / (skillfully curled) / all worlds

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-108799830190903622004-06-23T10:33:00.001-03:002010-11-02T11:11:52.659-03:00

Who would have thought that no sleep, no place to live, a horrible low-paying, degrading job, no sex, a relationship based on lies with  everybody I'm related to, pressure from everyone around me, moving, and starting a new school all would make me crazy, cranky, and bitchy? Well, I'm two out of the three. However, life just seems to spin more and more out of control. As someone who likes to have

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1087920940956054692004-06-22T13:13:00.000-03:002004-06-22T13:15:40.956-03:00

This was actually a letter aimed at the "other woman" she never actually saw it to my knowlege, but I wrote it in an attempt to stop feeling like shit for what went on. . . Ok, here goes. This letter is probably a shock given you don’t know me, although apparently you hate me despite this complete lack of acquaintance, not to mention the fact that so much time has elapsed between our paths

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7388206.post-1087859844857692652004-06-21T20:11:00.000-03:002004-06-21T23:57:22.276-03:00

Ok, so I've been a diary keeper all my life. I don't like having my privacy invaded ( by the people I know, and have to justify what I say to, anyway) so I figured lets go high tech, ditch the book, and choose and option that lets me be anonymous and really say what's on my mind. Lately, what's on my mind is stress. Mind bending, bone melting, stomach churning stress. About EVERYTHING. It seems

Peabodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16876804221257368236noreply@blogger.com0