A Year Over A Quarter Of A Century Old

Today, I turned twenty-six.

Last year, I was twenty-five. I had a list of things I wanted to accomplish, a few only having been truly checked off.

My first was to run a 5K. This was so incredibly important to me, and my best friend Mandikat made this happen. She started her own journey, and instead of being selfish, she prodded me to join in with her on her body experiment. I began to run, every day. I listened to zombies gnash at my heels, every day. I was able to focus on myself, for once, and I found out how much control I could really have over my life, body, and, most importantly, my happiness. And I did two 5Ks. I thank her for that every single day (at least, in my head I do. Sorry for not always being as verbal, Mandikat <3 p="">
My second was getting another job that got me over what was considered average for my age mark money-wise. I amazingly found this during the fall, when I could have been considered at my worst. It took me some time to make a decision about if I could actually make the jump, and then it was actually doing it, all the while inner emotions/turmoil dispersed around me like fireflies. The lights would blink, showing me all the things I could have--but then it would go dark, and I'd be lost for those few moments, floating around in limbo as I shook, debating on what was right and wrong, and if I was strong to do what I wanted to do. I not only took a deep breath and took the plunge, but I also found it was one of the best decisions of my life thus far. I gained my social life back. I found new friends. I learned that working at a company can mean being more than a minion. I learned the value of fifteen minutes--and how much gas that would be. I also learned more about family, and how to live with my brother again. I'm pleased with this.

My third was to find more about myself in love. Seeing how my previous years I was too scared to really dive in, I promised myself that a quarter-century was long enough. I realized that, after running and realizing how life was without a social life, I was ready for love. Not just some crush as I've had in the past, but a good steady position. It wasn't that I wasn't afraid of getting hurt--it was that I saw that I could handle that hurt, and knew I'd be able to get through it if I was rejected. This was the most difficult for me. I've always struggled with this, but I was determined to not let anything deter me.

I found out that not every guy is honest. I got that because there was a guy in which I made a connection, and for two months, we spoke non-stop every day through messages, sharing stories and experiences. It was simply amazing, how much we had in common, and I'd finally found someone at work who got my nerdy behavior. After those two months, I mentioned him to a coworker, who promptly told me he was engaged to someone else--and he'd never spoken a word of her to me. It was the first time that I saw why a girl would try to steal someone away from another. I "got" it. And it wasn't me.

I also realized that not every guy is who they say they are. A single guy for a week wooed me, and I found out that he was not only a swindler of hearts, but he lived with his ex-girlfriend, with whom he had a child, and also had another child, the same age, with another. All working at the same place.

I picked up a stalker for a couple of months.

I especially saw that guys were not the assertive behaviorists they claimed to be. The amount of guys who accumulated crushes were embarrassing--but even more so that I was told about them when I was leaving my old job. None of the guys I would have seriously considered, but the fact that they were all very outgoing guys, it was very disappointing to find out that no one had the balls to say anything (especially since I was none the wiser).

The closest I would say that I would have come to "love" was dashed away so fast, and so complicated, I don't think I've really ever gotten time to really discern it being over. It's the first time I lied to friends about being okay. The first I was dishonest to myself about being okay. And the hardest thing I've tried convincing myself out of.

Friends have told me that being friends with someone you had any romantic things with is basically impossible. I took this as a challenge. I thought I'd proved them wrong. But, as it turns out, disassociation is the only thing that takes away the confusion and allows you to move on enough to be friends. If you disagree with me, then the other person is going through what I'm dealing with, which is: trying to not take things personally; assume that every single action/spoken word means absolutely nothing unless clearly stated in a factual way while staring at your face and is willing to sign a testament that it is indeed truth; comparing every single other opposite sex to the commonalities that seemed to work so well; wishing they'd never see you again; wishing they'd somehow see you again; wishing they'd see you again but with them over you and having you see what you missed out on, even though they want your happiness at the same time; wishing they could somehow meet NPH (this doesn't really have to do with relationships, but I assume that every single person in the world wants to do this, which is why it was added to the list).

This last thing I've somehow learned the most about, and yet absolutely nothing. Every time I seem to have learned a new truth, it's completely negated in another form. Love-hurt has basically become a virus in my eyes--it slowly becomes immune to behaviors, and you just have to keep coming up with more to block what is inevitable, and you just keep coming back to the traditional friend support system that is considered your herbal supplements. They work, but they just don't prevent it from happening again.

This love taught me that you sometimes need to accept things and walk away. You can never fully understand why some relationships don't work, despite it having every sign pointing to "YES". Neon signs. With their own arrows pointing to those arrows, and people taking pictures of those to place on the internet for others to make memes about because they're ultimately jealous of what was found. This love taught me that connections can be denied and pushed away. That it really is up to each individual what they decide to do with what is laid upon a table. And that I will sometimes just never understand why someone would say 'No' to what is seen as a great opportunity.

It taught me the importance of placing blame on no one, and the patience of healing. I found it so dramatic, and still do, and it wasn't love (way too fast for that), but I was definitely infatuated with the happiness and feeling, and, being myself, I know I can take growth from this per usual and, eventually, I won't look back at the moments and miss them. Eventually, I won't have a hope that is there simply because I don't want to feel sad at the potential anymore. And I eventually will have all of the gears working on the same machine rather than some keeping a door open "just in case" because I don't like burning ideas to spread ashes in the wind for others to use in their gardens unless proven for the best.

So, love wasn't checked off the list. But learning about myself in love was. So was making new friends, facing my fears head on when they arise in a situation, trying new things I'd typically say no to because I judged it too quickly, embracing life every day because it's too short, singing every day, allowing myself to be vulnerable around others so they can see I am a person, too... and not allowing a mishap with a shot at love determine that I won't attempt again.

Twenty-five was an amazing year for firsts and rediscovering. And the bonus about being this young is that I can repeat that for so many years to come. I find that I'm blessed several times over, and I'm always surprised at this. And, the fact is, I think I always will be surprised. But I'll never be not thankful. How can I be when, after so much struggle, I have so much more outweighing on the scale that shows epicness?

This next year will be even better. Challenge accepted.

What, I Have To?

Despite having never truly been, I have always believed love should be easy. It's a natural, free state that requires nothing in return.

And yet, it seems to be the most difficult thing in the world to describe, to show.

Love, to me, should be like rain: soothing, yet loud. Gentle, yet makes it's mark. It washes the soul to make it fresh, ready to grow.

I do not believe there is such a thing as too much love. Although some can drown in it, and it may take some time to recover, true and honest love, unselfish love--one cannot get enough.

There are days when I bask in love.

My mischievous-love comes out to play many times. It's shown through pokes and teases, a smirk and my eyes dancing in laughter.

My affectionate-love typically goes hand-in-hand with my mischief. My teasing is accompanied with a snuggle, my poke with a kiss. If you know me, my smile shows just how much I adore your presence.

Tough love is my rare love. I use this love when I've had enough. When my other love isn't listened to. When, simply put, you need to get over it--and so do I.

Although there are many other types, true love I've never had. Perhaps this is because I believe that type of love to be the most complicated and hard to obtain. It's filled with compromise, forgiveness, and definitely stamina to stand the test of time. At it's core is friendship. It isn't like the blockbuster films, it cannot be contained in a little box with a delightful bow on top.

One cannot assume they've found their true love without trials and tribulations.

You don't fuck with this kind of love.

I'm not one to conform (as many of my family will tell you). I have my way of going about things, and the more you push me one way, the more likely I am to go the other in defiance. This is mostly due to the fact that I want my decisions to be my own, not because I saw everyone get into a line. Too often, people stand there, not even knowing what they're standing for, but they saw the line, and everyone seemed to have a good purpose for it, so why not do it yourself?

And true love isn't a conformity. Not really, in our world. How many people have gotten married and divorced this year? How many people are on their third marriage? It common, and not shameful, to have to go through this much trail and error to find who you're supposed to spend the rest of your life with.

But I'm not one to conform. I want it right the first time. None of the bullshit. Straight to the punch. One day, I'll get it right, because, my other belief?

When you know, you know.

I Saw Our Future, Once. And It Was Good.

I saw our future, once. And it was good.

I wasn't paying attention, within my own thoughts of the day, and I was thinking of what I would need to make shrimp Alfredo for supper that night, when someone stopped ahead of me and I maneuvered to the right--right into you.

Our eyes locked.

In that moment, I saw our future.

You casually smiled and apologized, despite it being my fault. Your hair wasn't past your ears, but you drew your fingers through your locks as if that would help keep it in place. You asked me if you could amend the bump with a coffee.

I said yes.

In a few months, we were set on doing our adventures together. Every Thursday was set aside for a homemade meal, which we alternated on making. You loved my Alfredo pasta best. And after the eating, we would lounge together on the couch, contemplating life. We swayed comfortably between conversation and utter silence. It was during one of these times that you asked me whether I would feel comfortable spending the weekend at your parents' place--they wanted you around to help with a quick installation of a new dishwasher, and to "hear about this new girl you've been seeing."

At your parent's place, I learned that you weren't as assertive as you were to me now. You were teased for being so tall in school, and clumsy beyond belief in sports, which I laughed at, considering you are on your company's baseball team. You also used to have a lot of girlfriends. I was mildly irritated until your father whispered that I was the first for you to bring home on his first request. We slept separate the first night, you on the couch while I was in your old bedroom among pictures of old high school friends and a poster of The Goonies. The second, you crept in and I woke up in your arms feeling at home.

It took months before we admitted we were in love. The urge to say it, to spew these words over your morning coffee and my morning tea, were smothered in fear of what we may actually have. It turned out to be the most undramatic moment when it was said: We had just gotten home from a long walk. You took pictures of some buildings while I spooked a few pigeons. We held hands and walked into a bakery to share a fruit tart. We came back home. I read a book while you uploaded your pictures. When we got into bed, you leaned over to turn out the light, then stopped and turned to me. "I love you," you said. "I love you, too," I replied. And you shut off the light, and we fell asleep to each other's breathing.

We moved into the same house after that, and we talked about marriage. You had to convince me that it wouldn't change any of my goals, that I could stay as independent as I was. You understood I wasn't a kept woman, but the idea of what was supposed to come after--children--made me too nervous to want to set any dates. And then you proposed to me, on a warm, slightly windy day, while we were taking a weekend vacation to a cabin in the woods. We were laying on a blanket, looking at the stars, and you were pointing out different constellations, telling me the stories of each one. When you told me to look at one, I realized you held a ring between your fingers, and it twinkled slightly against the light. When I looked at you, you smiled and said that nothing was more meant to be, us, and that if I wouldn't marry you, we'd still be together forever, just like now.

We had two kids, both of them girls. We debated a third, but after getting two dogs, we decided our family was big enough. They grew up too fast, and we regretted the small things that we thought would make them horrible adults, such as allowing them to watch television past their bedtime, and doing their laundry when they came home from college. They both got married, one to a man, the other to a woman. We were so happy, and had grandchildren on both sides.

We traveled the world, then. Greece, Sweden, Ireland, Portugal. Japan was fun, but I didn't like the crowds in the city. And we discovered ourselves again in New Zealand, where we renewed our vows.

I saw our future. Once. And when our eyes locked, your hand twitched, as if to move up to your hair. But then the crowd moved, and your eyes left mine to see your future. She waved at you, and you mumbled an apology before stepping aside to greet her.

And I walked away.

But it was good.

On Putting The Lonesome On The Shelf

Dear Boy-I-Have-Yet-To-Meet,

Bears. Beets. Battlestar Galactica.

It always happens to me.

The day that I have to get up early to get to work on time is the day I have a fantastic dream about John Krasinski.

I'm not quite sure where it all came from, though I have an idea. I've been recently reading all these crazed shojo-romancy-type manga through the interweb, so my brain must have been on a wavelength of fantastic cuddly love.

That immediately ended with my alarm singing out the theme of the field in Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask.

However, I don't know why John Krasinski made the appearance out of all my celeb choices. Not that I'm complaining; he's adoreable, and, if anything like his character Jim Halpert, I'd gladly date. I'm even more interested in him than Dane Cook at the moment (but that's because his comedy was dropped for me when it was all about sex, rather than actual humor... we know what happens in the bedroom. Stop name dropping old school hits and get on with some actual jokes.) But I guess that's just how the subconcious works.

After taking ten minutes to convince myself that it wasn't worth trying to fall asleep for another half hour to see where my relationship was going to go with Mr. Krasinski (knowing my other dreams, I'm sure he'd break up with me due to my being too young or that we're just too far away from each other to make it work or something to that depressing effect), I made my way to the bathroom and re-dyed my bangs. I had wanted to henna them again last night, but I forgot/got too lazy to remember. So, the rest of the day today, I smell like henna. Or, in other words, like a hippy. Not that I mind. I love that I smell like it for a good week right after my showers. It's become a calming smell.

On the past notes I haven't updated with due to time (i.e. catching up on sleep), Moondance Jam was a lot of fun! Tanya and I danced a lot, and she fell in love with Black Valentine (mainly the bassist). I fell in love with the music I heard, except for Led Zepagain. Sorry, but I can't respect someone "trying to keep the music alive" when they're pretending to actually be the band, rather than actually being the band. Ah, the disappointment.

And my mother's bash was a great success. It was awesome (and a little tiring) to see everyone and chat up. People I hadn't seen for years showed up, and some that I see ever-so-often. My elementary music teacher, Mrs. Johnson, was there, and it was really odd to see her. She stayed the same, but I obviously looked different. When I asked her how she was doing, she said, "I'm good. What's your name?" And when I said, "Mallory," she said, "What's your last name?" I had to explain that I was my mom's daughter (in which they usually guess because we look alike, but not so much since I've gotten the glasses). She looked not only astonished at who I was, but very pleased, especially at what I was doing with my life. I always feel embarrassed when I see an old teacher; they always say, "You'll always do good at whatever you do, you always have." It's a pleased embarrassment, but I'm happy to know that I wasn't a little shit at all times (HA, mom ^_~).

I was a little disappointed at not being able to hang out with my brother more, since he had other work to do (and gas prices are a little much for him to keep trekking up and around the map). My first summer away, and it just feels weird to not be around my family consistently. Though they claim it to be just "same old, same old," there's a sense of homecoming in that. Plus, I've missed my puppies! Ellie has gotten so adorable (I love when she howls!), and Mocha is still my pup of comfort (though it seems as if Ellie takes up my time with wanting to always play).

In news of my return to my university, it's been hectic. Yesterday, I get to my shift in one of the dorms to find out they've re-cored the front door. I was okay to get in with my card, but anyone with a hard key couldn't get into the building, which meant a lot of getting up and going to the door on my part for a while (we can't hold the doors open), and then a lot of apologizing and dealing with unhappy residents. Apparently, the On Duty cell phone wasn't being answered by the patrons who've been holding onto it, and people have been standing outside the doors for more than a half hour, waiting to get into the building. I ended up sending out a mass email for people to be more aware, which, this morning, I was massively thanked by one of the staff, who said she was seeing voice mails every time she'd get the cell phone, and they were getting angry people who were chewing out the wrong people. I had been apprehensive about sending it, as I didn't want people to think about me slacking off since I'd taken the weekend off. Not to brag, but I've seem to have proven my worthy with this working industry, and they really take my opinion into account on matters, which really touches me. I'm one of the few members on staff that the Hall Directors allow me to do more "classified" things that involve privacy, and am one of the first called to do something because they know I do my part.

I just finally feel glad that I'm being noted for my work. Any corporation I've worked with doesn't take the time, and if they do, it's very business-like, as if it's the obvious thing to go above and beyond their minimum work with minimum wage (as if. I will go above and beyond when I know that your company will go above and beyond--which Res Life does). Res Life certainly has some issues with communication, and some in the construction common sense zone, but they certainly don't have any issues will telling their staff how great they are at the job they do. Plus, it's not just a business--it's all friendship.

It'll be a tough day when I finally decide to go out on my own, if only because I would rather eat my own shoe than work my way up a corporate ladder only to be kicked down for "financial reasons." Fuck that shit.

Random Fact: Lightning strikes men about seven times more often than it does women. Suckers.

Tone It Down

I had a dream last night about Rooster Teeth. I have no clue how this came about. I've never really seen a good picture of any of the crew, but I managed to take their comic form and create some idea in my head.

I think we went bowling.

Besides that point, the small road trip we had turned out to be a blast. We did so much! Corey was supposed to come with us, but he found that he couldn't skip one of his classes, so it was just Spooner, Amber and I. Turns out, Amber and I made a great team.

The Highlights:
*Went to Duluth to meet up with an STLF friend. We stayed for about an hour, watching Tim the Toolman Taylor and having root beer floats with Dad's Root Beer (I know, I pretty much freaked out knowing that she had the root beer of childhood memories!!!!!).
*Drove rest of way to Spooner
*Tiny notes around Spooner's house to remind us/welcome us to cute adorable home
*First Smirnoff drink
*Went to bed at 4:30amish
*Got up at 7:30am to shower
*Ate breakfast and left for Rice Lake
*Realized we left items at Spooner's house
*I stayed with Spoon during surgery whilst Amber drove to get said items
*Spooner hit on us multiple times, which totally made up for the blood and grossness
*Amber got, literally, a childhood friend's number from his father
*Saw Lynn, Spoon's mum, and met her husband at Culver's (St. Paul)
*Saw STLF headquarters and met Petey (Minneapolis)
*Drove up north and made a pit stop at my parents'
*Drove rest of way to university
*Dropped off Spooner after getting some eating supplies for him, as he couldn't have solid foods for some time
*Amber and I smoked a stogie while walking back to dorms



I look concerned because smoking a cigar means you're cool. Ever seen Independence Day? Will Smith is pretty Badass with that cigar.

Cigarettes? No.

Hookah? No.

Pipe? No, but still cool.

Cigar? Why not?

It's also blizzard week. Last weekend it was snow-crazed, now it's snow-crazed again. Normally, I'm all for this! I love snow like the dickens! However, I had plans to see Miss Mandikat for her senior recital. She had been on a voice hiatus, so it was hard enough that we weren't talking (I'm so sorry, parentals, for the text messages....). But we talked yesterday, and now I really want to see her more than usual!!! I'm praying and telling everyone else to pray, too. The thing is, during the day, it's all melty and no issue. At night, that could be the different story.

Whelp, I'm off to see what difference I can make in the day. Maybe get some lunch. We'll see.

Random Fact: More than 50% of the people in the world have never made or received a telephone call.

Daydream Believer

Last night, I had the worst charlie horse in my right calf leg in the history of Mallory's Charlie Horses In Right Calf Legs. I'm still sore from it this morning!

It didn't surprise me, really. From 10-midnight, I was playing basketball with Martha, Josh, and Shiloh (with a taste of Jessica ever-so-often, but her left shoulder is hurt, so she couldn't play as much). It'd been a while, and it was a lot of fun. I was reminded of how me and my brother would play during the summer. We used to have a basketball net on our garage on our other house, but we can't really at our "new" one.

We played Lightning and Pig.

Actual conversation when I received 2nd place in Pig with Martha.

Me: Damn it!
Martha: Tha'll do pig. Tha'll do.

I laughed pretty hard.

I'm assuming that all of the quick moves in the calves was what brought on the whole muscle spasm of PAIN. And then not really stretching afterwards. Since I was one of the people who set up the event, I helped tear down at the end of the night, then ended up going to my room and conversing with mother about the pain in my heart.

Since hearing that Dan wasn't going to be an RA next year, I felt really hit. Everyone else seemed to have been told personally while I was left to find on my own. I was really hurt. I was angry at myself because I decided not to say something about my concerns as a friend for him. I've been hurt for two weeks that he's barely talked to me, much less even making any normal friend contact.

To be honest, neither of us are in the clear for making that "just friends" work.

I had a dream last night that Dan, some random people and I were in a house together. I was cleaning house, picking up old stuffed animals and clearing the floor to see the white, cushy carpet that I remember thinking, "This is comfort." I can't recall why, but Dan came over holding a CD player. I wasn't even looking at him, and he placed the headphones over my ears. I jumped and looked at him, wondering what was going on. "What am I supposed to do with this?" I asked, and he held up the player, pressed play, then handed me the player. I looked down at the player, the song starting, when he suddenly crushed me against him and kissed my temple, holding tight, then letting go and started to walk away. I told him to wait, but he looked back, smiled, then motioned that I should listen to the song. There were words, but I couldn't keep them in my head for the life of me. I think this is where I started to wake up, because I remember consciously trying to concentrate on the song, wondering if I knew it or not, but the words just played by my ear and were forgotten in the dream.

I think that was the first time that Dan has ever been in my dreams.

Random Fact: We dream on average of one or two hours every night. And we often even have 4-7 dreams in one night. Five minutes after the end of the dream, half the content is forgotten. After ten minutes, 90% is lost. Dreamers who are awakened right after REM sleep, are able to recall their dreams more vividly than those who slept through the night until morning.

So Much For That

Remember that time when I promised I'd write in here every day? Even if it was lame?

Promises, promises...

So, in the recent, I've been having dreams of Milo Ventimiglia, who plays Peter Petrelli in Heroes. It could be that I have also been reading Wicked Powered by downloading some of the comics off of WOWIO. They have the same body build?

In any case, it's rather unnerving to have dreams as such because I don't prompt them. And I highly doubt it'd be the same as telling a friend if one were to say, "I've been having dreams about you!"

Cree-py!

To be talking about WOWIO, I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised to find a same photo in both Wicked Powered and Last Blood, where it showed a vampire killing Hitler. At first, I suspected that there was some joke between the writers, but the drawings were so close to each other... Turns out, they are the same people! And they have four comics. Four. Here I am, complaining about comics that only update once a week (but they don't, only once a month), and these guys have the abilities to make four different series. Well, it's really Bobby Crosby, Chris Crosby and Owen Gieni.

Wicked Powered: Owen Gieni & Chris Crosby

Last Blood: Chris Crosby & Bobby Crosby

Sore Thumbs: Owen Gieni & Chris Crosby

Marry Me: Bobby Crosby

That's a lot to be involved in. And a lot of ridiculous plot lines. And all different styles.

My favorite is probably Last Blood. But that could be just my Vampire/Zombie love getting out. But Marry Me doesn't update enough, making me frustrated because the idea is fantastic. Sore Thumbs, while making me laugh with gaming needs sometimes goes to political; I'm not political enough to really care for some of the jokes. And Wicked Powered... It's just the good ol' fun.

I still think it's amazing to be so involved in comics. I'll have to get Mandikat to draw the comic I've been wanting to start... I've already got so much planned out in my sketchbook anyways. I've got the storyboard--she's got the talent!

Random Fact: The longest Hollywood kiss was from the 1941 film, "You're in the Army Now." It lasted for three minutes and three seconds. (That's freaking long...)

Dream A Dream 2

I once had a dream in which I met and ended up dating Dane Cook. And by dating, I mean that we met for the first time in the morning at some point and ended up spending all day together joking and laughing and hanging out.

I suddenly checked my watch and said, "Oh, crap. I have to go, my family has some thing going on, and I'm already late. It's pretty boring, elsewise I'd invite you."

He replied, "Hey, it wouldn't be boring with you there." We smiled at each other until he said, "Plus, I'm entertaining enough for the both of us." Then I laughed and hit him (playfully, of course).

When he came over, just before we walked in, I said, "Hey, I just want to warn you ahead of time, my family is a big fan, so if they start repeating your jokes, I'm sorry." He told me it was fine, and that he appreciated that they liked his comedy.

They met him, which was odd for me because I've never introduced a boyfriend before, and they adored him. The night went fantastically, and just when Dane Cook decided to take my hand and hold it, like a couple, and I was blushing like mad, my brother said, "Hey, he knows you're only twenty, right?"

Suddenly, the entire night seemed to change for him. Although he didn't let go of my hand, the aura was different, and I knew we'd just be friends.

"That isn't a problem, is it?" I asked, already feeling a dread and tears of shame.

"Well..." He looked like he regretted it immensely. "It's just such an age gap."

He did the ol' kiss on the cheek and forehead, then the light kiss on the lips only friends do. I hugged him tight, feeling depressed and hoping we'd at least be friends and maybe, just maybe, he'd see that age wasn't a big deal.

Jesus. Even in my freaking dreams, relationships don't work like I hope, and it's about the same issues I worry about (would this be considered a nightmare?).

Random Fact: Men tend to dream more about other men, while women dream equally about men and women.

Dream A Dream

The problem with my dreaming is that it usually happens in stories. Usually, I end up waking up and thinking, "What the hell?" as well. So, this morning, after waking up from a dream consisting of demons, my mother being next to the Queen's best friend after saving the world from an attack and me being stalked by some shadow-like creature, and all of these things somehow working together into a very detailed story I'll eventually write down someday, I did my usual reach for my dream dictionary to figure it all out.

The only problem is, I need a better dictionary. Anything I tried to look up, it didn't have. And as I started to get frustrated with the whole process, I began to lose what my creative subconcious gave me. Now, I can't even figure out my dreaming life, much less my real one.

In other news, I can honestly say that I hope marijuana never become legal. If it ever does, I don't think I'll ever have kids. And I'll probably never have a significant other, either.

Drug Free is the Way To Be!

Random Fact: The Ramses brand condom is named after the great pharaoh Ramses II who fathered over 160 children.