Holy Molly Ringwald!

Guys! Yesterday was the one year anniversary of this very blog. I can't believe I missed it. One year ago yesterday was the day the magic began. One year ago yesterday a voice was given to all of my voiceless crippling insecurities and borderline psychotic phobias. One year ago yesterday I said to myself: "Does the international internet community deserve to experience the cornucopia of internet temper tantrums and needy breakdowns that only I can provide? Why yes. Yes, I believe it does. HERE I COME, WORLD!"

One year ago yesterday was one hell of a day for me and, for that matter, humanity, but I passed it by without so much as the blink of an eye. Please, help me make it up to my beloved UnAnx. If you're so inclined, Leave it a little anniversary/birthday message next time you stop by. If you're stumped as to the gift giving protocol for an occasion like this, I can't help you with specifics since I've never had to celebrate a one year anniversary before, but I will say that I don't know anyone who doesn't appreciate a good Limerick. That's not, like, a hint or anything...I'm totally just throwing it out there.

Well blog, it's been a strange ride so far. Who would have thought one year ago yesterday that my life journey over this past year would blossom and branch and wind all the way to...Exactly where I was one year ago yesterday? I mean, really. I'm back in a new place, at a new school jam packed with brand new terror and awkward at every turn. If ever I made a choice that gave proper meaning to the term "Unnecessary Anxieties," it would be the decision to go through freshman year of college twice. It's almost as though I am distrusful of happiness and comfort, therefore I continually sabotage myself in an effort to avoid getting my heart broken by yet another empty promise of fulfillment. Or I'm mentally unstable. Either way, I feel Freud would direct me to blame my mother, so I will: Mom? Maybe if I'd gotten that Barbie dream house I wanted for Christmas when I was seven instead of that lame-ass tea set Santa brought, I would have developed the ability to know what's good for me and stayed in South Dakota.

Oh well. Today isn't about me. It's about this blog; The specialest friend a girl could ever ask for. To belatedly celebrate the occasion of our union, I am going to make a gift of the most delightfully awkward conversation I have witnessed in the past twenty-four hours:

Random Guy (Walking behind me): Hey Peter, do you know Dylan?
Peter: Yeah, I know him.
RG: Is he attractive?
--long, uncomfortable pause--
Peter: Uh...Yeah...I guess he'd be attractive...If, like, I were a girl...
RG: Oh, I don't mean do you find him attractive...

And that's were we parted ways all too quickly. Thanks Peter and Random Guy for brightening my day.

And blog? Thank you too. For everything.

Beautiful Beautiful Beautiful

This is against my better judgment. I'm in a very dark place right now and I have been trying to spare my myriad of fans the effects of my acute anxiety. I have the sneaking suspicion that if I continue to turn to this blog whenever I'm down, it will quickly morph into the kind of creepy myspace page that is called to the attention of the PTA after a string of school shootings. Seriously. Picture this in red writing accompanied by numerous off center pictures of me like, sobbing and drinking alone with my arm reaching out of the frame because I've obviously taken them all myself:

...i hate the whole world i hate real people maybe if everyone was mute and deaf like my thirteen year old dog i wouldnt feel so alone the happiest time in my life was in high school concert choir because it wasn't just a class itwas a family but it ended so soon and now broken promises lay abandoned all around i think the only person who will ever really understandme is hilary duff. imean marilyn manson. im a danger to myself and to happy people everywhere. im also way edgy...

Scoff if you want, but you have to admit I'm a prime candidate for that kind of a nervous internet breakdown. Especially now when the start of a new school year in a new place is fast approaching and the stress is getting so bad I'm beginning to self medicate. I won't tell you how exactly because I don't want to traumatize any pony loving nine-year-olds who might be reading this, but I'll just give you this subtle hint: It starts with a "B" and ends with a "ring It on 3: All or Nothing." When I become a famous emo recording artist my first single is going to be called "Cheerleading Movies are My Novocaine."

Oh well. Chances are I won't stop feeling this way until late November and I don't want to deprive the world of my particular brand of brilliance for that long. So, I'm going to take my chances by updating now, as long as you promise not to begrudge a girl a little nostalgic melancholy every now and then. That said, at the risk of slipping into Lifetime movie montage mode, I'd like to dwell on a few of my favorite moments from the end of this quickly fleeting summer:

1. My favorite sad excuse for a meal: Well, this one was a close call because that five dollar egg roll Christa and I shared before Rent was pretty special. Additionally, the tiny magical array of cheese and approximately four "house baked crackers" set before Kyra and I pre-Great Gatsby with flavors ranging from lavender to burnt plastic was basically sunshine on a plate. However, I must award the grand prize to John's ten dollar tuna roll. I didn't get a very good look at the quarter sized piece of fish, but I like to think it provided the birthday boy with the most delicious two-and-a-half seconds of his life.
2. My favorite drug induced moment: My sister upon having her wisdom teeth pulled and discovering the joys of Vicodin..."Caitlin, while I was asleep, I designed a really cute pair of pants." She says she likes the drugs because they "take the pain away and make her happy." Hmm...I think Courtney Love said the something similar on her eighth birthday when she discovered Tequila. But no worries, Abby. She turned out totally fine.
3. My favorite Post Bulletin goodbye: While everyone was very kind to me on my last day of work, I have to bestow the honor of best send off upon the random weirdo who called me about one hour before my departure. One last crazy for the road! Oh, it couldn't have been more perfect, but he'll never know the gift he gave me. That's what made it so bittersweet and poingant. I knew he was nuts when I picked up the phone and immediately had to hold it two inches away from my face because the guy was shouting so loud. Not in a mad way mind you, just in a crazy way. What he wanted, I discovered after many long stories about this man and his encounters with President Gerald Ford, was a way to send the ailing president a get well card. However, he didn't let my total inability to help him in any way stop him from telling me more stories still. My favorite was the one about how he had already gone to Mr. Ford's floor on the Mayo Clinic and approached the "secret service." They wouldn't let him through even though he "only wanted an autograph." I heart crazies.
4. My favorite useless, vaguely dirty "pearl of wisdom" from a dove chocolate wrapper: "Discover yourself." Heh. Now can someone please apologize to that pony loving nine-year-old for me?
5. My favorite camping moment: Honestly, I can't decide. How can I choose between Eric Darsow declaring himself the "popcorn master" and becoming cross with me when I doubted his method; and Eric Darsow asking, "Now, what is a 'friend'?"; and Eric Darsow being present when Christa told a story about her boobs? You try making that choice, Sophie.

And those are just the highlights I can think of now. There are too many lovely goodbye moments to receive proper justice in a blog entry. Really guys, this summer has been heavenly. The sheer perfection of all these sweet, comfy times is making it that much harder to look toward starting over. But, I will welcome new experiences with open arms because of the strength that you have loaned me. Really, thanks for everything.

See, now, I told you I'd regret writing this post. I flew right past Lifetime Movie montage mode and fell head first into Seventh-Heaven oblivion. How will I be able to face myself in the mirror now? Ah well. Wish me luck. Hopefully, the next time you hear from me I'll have some entertaining terror and awkward for you...

P.S. A shout out to you beautiful Augie kids: I don't know the right words to adequately express how much I will miss you. You were funny and real and kind and surprising over and over again. You made it worth everything.