A Surreptitious Scheme

We all have them. Don't even deny it. A plan that no one knows about. An idea to do, to act, if only this or this occurs. Acknowledging it gives it life, breathes reality into it. Yet, that's all it is...just a thought, a simple notion. And no one needs to be hurt because of it.

Love in the Dark by Adele

Can the Celly!

PSA for the Day: Can the Celly! Will someone please pass this common sense along to my co-workers?!

Impact > Intent

Edited reprint with(out) permission

Not all of his supporters are racist, misogynist, xenophobes. Yet, all of his supporters saw a racist, misogynist, xenophobe and said "this is an acceptable person to lead our country."

Impact > intent.

So when you get called racist, misogynist, and xenophobic, you must understand that your actions have enabled racism, misogyny, and xenophobia in the highest halls of our federal government, regardless of your "intent."

You have to own this. You don't get to escape it because your feelings are hurt that people are calling you racist, misogynist, xenophobic. You may have felt like you had no other choice; you may have felt like he was genuinely the best choice for reasons that had nothing (in your mind) to do with hate.

But you have to own what you  have done: you have enabled racism, misogyny, and xenophobia.

Impact > intent. Always.

#hesnotmypresident

You may (not) remember how I loathe hashtag anything (fundamentally because they are pound signs), but I love the power they invoke. You feel a connection with a movement through these pound signs. #blacklivesmatter #imwithher

Well, today, I'm following a new one. #hesnotmypresident I will not be ugly, hateful, or vindictive, but the president-elect does not in any way, shape, or form represent my ideals and values. I will not acknowledge him as my leader of anything. And whether there is a judgement day or not at the end of our time on this place called earth, I will know I did right with my soul. 

America is a Fantasy

All day yesterday, I alternated between crying and simply staring in disbelief. Yet I'm in no way surprised by this outcome. The deeply ingrained tentacles of racism, classism, and sexism are alive and well in the "heart" of this nation.

But I had the great privilege of being born white, Christian, and heterosexual in America. I didn't wake up yesterday worried that I might be deported because of the color of my skin or because I lack a piece of paper stating I "deserve" to be here. I didn't wake up yesterday worried that my marriage may be revoked because I love someone of the same gender. I didn't wake up yesterday worried I  may be targeted because I choose to wear a hijab as representative of my religious ideals and principles.

Instead, I woke up next to a man who looked at me and said, "I still believe in the fantasy of this country." Lizard, it is indeed a fantasy, and I'm sorry we didn't do better for you.

Adventure #47: Burlesque Show

I know you've been thinking a few things about me: 1) I've fallen off the face of the earth or stepped in a hole full of poo; 2) I have become so disgusted with the presidential campaign I've fled to Canada; and 3) I obviously never have any adventures in my life since getting attached to a particular reptile species. The last adventure update I posted was LAST YEAR. I'm saddened by my inability to commit to the exciting and adventurous life I promised when I began this blog five years ago! I think 2017 is going to be an eventful year, though...just you wait and see!

All of this is simply a precursor to my very spontaneous adventure this past weekend at a burlesque brunch (think dinner) show. Well, it was exactly as you could imagine...lots of t*ts and *ss! AND it was super fun!

Questioning and Existentialism

"I have loved questions all my life...I've loved them out of curiosity and I've loved them out of the hunger for good conversations and I've loved them out of desperation." Living By Questions appeared as my Daily Good read today, and it was so timely, reminding me that sometimes the universe guides do indeed know what they're doing.

From time to time, usually about once a year, I go through a "phase," for lack of a better explanation, where I am drifting in and out of this thing called life. It's almost as if I'm hovering above my own body wondering what next step I'll take, next choice I'll make. "All my life, I've wanted more closeness to my own experience, to be able to whisper, 'Yes I'm right here.'" Instead of somewhere outside of the body that is actually living life.

But aren't questions integral to and inherent in an existential life? "[Questions] remind us that moving forward is our inevitable, profoundly lucky human fate." What if the purpose of life is simply to ask the question, never to actually find the answer? All of the growth occurs while you're climbing the mountain, not upon reaching the summit, though as humans we get so wrapped up in achieving the goal that we forget to appreciate the beauty that surrounds us throughout our journey, even the most difficult parts. "Questioning helps me...recognize that difficulty, darkness...are also a part of my own true life...In times of darkness..a good question can become a safety rope between you and your own sense of selfhood."

Political Discourse

It's official. He who must not be named is the Republican presidential nominee. Some days it just consumes me; other days I focus on my immediate vicinity and that which I can truly control. I alternate between horror and disbelief to resignation and passivity. Why should I be surprised that millions of citizens would support such a hate-monger? We live in an inherently racist country, and if you can't see that, then you're a part of exactly what is keeping this country from being what it could be (rather than what it once was).

It is time. It is time to stop passing the blame. It is time to start taking some responsibility in creating a culture that perpetuates this environment that benefits some (mainly whites) and damages others (mainly minorities). It is time.

As a Huffington post article I recently read states, "We must raise our voices to insist that the political parties recruit candidates who are willing to have productive and respectful arguments about the ideas and policies that will move this country forward. We must provide an alternative to the noxious rhetoric that is eroding our dignity as human beings."

In My Head

In my head. That's where all the fantasies reside, and I live somewhere in the in-between.

Prayer for Orlando

This is simply an edited reprint from a prayer vigil in which I participated last week.

We pray for those who were so tragically killed in Orlando. For those in lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender communities, and for all who love, and all who grieve. We pray that they might find strength and not be overwhelmed by their loss.

We pray for those who were injured, those who are in great pain, and their families, friends, and companions; those whose lives will forever be changed.

We pray for those who witnessed this violence, for innocent bystanders, for the first responders, police, nurses, doctors, and all who are shaken to the core.

We pray for those who are caring for the injured, that they may offer healing and life.

We pray for our Muslim neighbors who also know too much fear and misunderstanding.

We pray for the clergy and lay ministers who will tend to the needs of people in fear and grief.

We pray for all people across the world who live under the threat of terror.

We pray for those who seek to do others harm. We pray that their hearts be turned and their minds and souls find healing.

We pray for all who are called to lead. We pray that they might have wisdom and strength and be moved to action to pursue the common good for all.

And, we pray for the day when evil takes its last gasp, when the light finally and completely dispels out the darkness in this world.

Gun Violence IS Cancer

I remain in disbelief in the aftermath of the most recent mass shooting event in Orlando, Florida. I don't own a gun, and I never will. I don't like guns. I don't understand shooting as a hobby. Yet, my "leftist" view has never indicated the "right" should give up their preferred hobby. Furthermore, I've yet to meet anyone who has ever said, "ABSOLUTELY NO GUNS." Whether it's 1 or 49, LIFE has to come first - before money, price, and precious toys. We refuse to sit by and do nothing while cancer and vehicular accidents continue to take our loved ones' lives, so why do we refuse to stand up to gun violence?!

Because I'm not nearly as eloquent as my friend Cash...

I say this as a gun owner. I own a weapon because A) first and foremost, I love shooting that thing! Its something I've loved doing since being in the Army, B) I've been jacked at gunpoint, and I honestly want to have the playing field leveled. I will die fighting for my life before I die crying for my life.

That being said, the fools who preach "guns don't kill people, people kill people" are at the very least ignorant and at the very worst, enablers. The reality is that, while yes the inanimate gun cannot function without the human operator, without said weapon, the level of destruction is not fatal. The gun is the enabling device to cause a fatality or mortal wound. Stop being delusional!

The fact is that nobody in their right mind thinks the government can or should remove the guns from legal owners in the USA. THAT WILL NEVER HAPPEN!! What does need to happen, and should, is to take out of service and prevent the manufacture of military grade weapons. Establish this by way of round capacity and cyclic rate. Assault is just a term to define these characteristics. TBH, only trained individuals should have these anyhow, so the avg citizen is clearly not supposed to be the target demo for these type weapons.

A handgun is almost always the type of weapon used in a gun related fatality. And if the laws that are in place were better enforced, better safety features to include technological advancements, and closing loopholes and requiring better training were the norm, I would be ok with that in order to secure the right to bear arms. Its a right that comes with responsibility. Why is that responsibility so often dismissed by 2nd amendment zealots? Give me a break...own up to what the right to bear arms requires of you.

Children are dying.

Innocent people are dying in record numbers of mass shootings.

An industry bent on putting profits over people is strong-arming the legislature.

This is America. We deserve to be able to decide what matters as a society. We deserve to have our leaders be on the side of LIFE, LIBERTY, AND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS. And in my fucking opinion, that means the laws need to be written by the people and not the gun nuts.

Thanks,
Sincere Gun Owner
‪#‎Orlando‬‪#‎PRIDE2016‬

Changing a Climate

Wow. If you want to read a provocative article this week, here it is. "As a species, we stand at a precipice, and the choices we make in this moment determine a great many things."

The Tipping Point. It's here and almost past the point of no return. "You carry the wisdom of your ancestors with you, yet there is no one like you...you are born for this time. Each one of us plays an important significant part in the shaping of our future."

In this moment, in this very moment, you can make a difference. What will you decide? "We are all participants, and now more than ever we need every hand on deck to right this ship and chart a better course."

Same Kind of Different as Me

When I was in college, we had a weekly advertising campaign where flyers were placed on the inside of bathroom doors across campus. I loved going to the bathroom on Monday mornings to find out what was going on that week! Sounds silly, I know, but this fond memory came to mind recently as I further contemplate the "bathroom hysteria" that is currently plaguing our country.

Target recently announced that bathrooms in their stores were open to the identity of one's choice, and an absolute uproar has arisen in response in the form of a petition signed by over 700,000. Though I should not be surprised - believe me, I know - I continue to be markedly appalled at our nation's inability to move past, even an inch, its own misplaced sense of right from wrong. Why is it so difficult to embrace our differences, to truly look at someone for who they are and not for who they're not (like you)? Does it come from some distorted belief that appreciation of someone's differences might indicate a weakness in ourselves?

I'm not sure about you, but Caitlin Jenner walking into a man's bathroom seems stranger to me than she choosing the bathroom I prefer. But, ok, dudes, whatever tickles your fancy.

We have a unique opportunity RIGHT NOW. Will you be on the right or the wrong side of history?Choose wisely, my friends.

Want to be inspired? Check out this video for they are the Same Kind of Different as Me,which is also a terrific novel by the way.

The Naked Man

Note: All names and professional organizations have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent.

The Naked Man. You know the type. The one that gets undressed, lies in your bed, waits for you to come out of the bathroom, and then jumps on you. No, not familiar? Well, perhaps I'm a little ahead of myself...

You're already familiar with many of my escapades of debauchery and decadence, as well as my dealings with all things love and lust. Remember Superman? Or the man who keeps me up at night? How about the dancer, Lizard, and of course, my Caribbean boyfriend? Well, let me introduce you to The Naked Man.

Several years ago, whilst dating around, I was invited to a professional baseball game with the president of the city Junior League. When you live in a city the size of mine, this is A.Big.Deal. I knew he was well-known; I knew he and I knew a lot of the same people, hence how we met; I even knew that he was politically-involved and motivated. The degree to which he was all of those things, however, became starkly apparent when we walked into a bar prior to the game to grab a few drinks and I was introduced to everyone in said bar. I felt like I was in a beauty pageant, smiling with vaseline on my lips. Whoa. Too much for this ambivert.

Fast forward to the game. Fun times. A lot of cheering. Nice date. That's really all I can remember of that portion of the evening.

Just so you are aware, because it's important to this particular story, I was not into said Naked Man. I have no qualms about jumping into promiscuous situations with men to whom I'm attracted, but otherwise, I'm not sparing my time or energy. But I don't mind a good conversation, enlightening discussion, or free drinks.

After the game, we headed to another bar, closer to where I live. Free drinks. Check. Good conversation. Check. Enlightening discussion. Meh, but two out of three ain't bad said Meatloaf. Little did I know that Mr. Naked Man would get drunk and be unable to drive himself home. So, I wound up driving his car to my house, where he had picked me up earlier in the evening, and told him to sleep it off on the couch.

I, being the woman that I am, made my way to the bathroom to take care of girl business (aka removing my face) and change my clothes. I made my way into the bedroom and climbed into my bed. Mistake #1. For there was a NAKED MAN under the sheets. I literally screamed, jumped out of bed, and turned on the light. Mistake #2. Said Naked Man had jumped up at the same time.

I'll fast forward through the next five minutes to save you the grief I endured. Let's suffice it to say I slept on the couch in my own house and never saw Naked Man again. Given his status in the city, however, his name comes across my way from time to time, and I can only imagine the vast contrast between how most others view him and how I have SEEN him.

My Memoir

Memoir. A collection of memories. I've been contemplating writing my memoir for years now, and it miraculously occurred to me that I've already been doing just that. I may not be compiling them into a novel, but I am writing them...in the form of this very blog. And perhaps that is for the best since it appears my memoir has already been written. Please see What I Was Doing While You Were Breeding. Other than names and locations, not much else would differ from Ms. Newman's own memoir. Oh, I may not be as funny either, but I certainly would try!

So, with that premise in mind, you have a number of wholly inappropriate entries forthcoming.

Solo Travel

I often get asked why I enjoy travelling alone. I admit that my first solo travel experience abroad was filled with angst and worry. Yet, I've continued to do it over and over. Why? I enjoy the ability to do what I want when I want without having to ensure it's also what my travel companion(s) desire to do. I can see and do at my own speed. I am only bound by my own itinerary. Yet, there is another reason much more to the heart of why I solo journey.

I have met amazing people in my travels, many of whom I now call friends, and none of the scenarios where I was introduced to said individuals would have even occurred had I been with even one other travel companion. To me, that's profound. You're forced out of your comfort zone, and what is more exhilarating than that?

But this brings me to travelling alone when no longer a single. Lizard is wholly supportive of my continued pursuits of adventure abroad, but I can only imagine longing for his companionship if I were to go at it alone now. Thoughts?

Plane Etiquette

A moral dilemma. A family is not seated together on the plane and asks me to switch. Should I move?

No. Absolutely not. I'm not giving up the window seat I paid for, in advance, for this time of serenity. I give to charity. I don't intentionally run over wildlife. I open doors for others. But in no universe am I giving up my window seat for the aisle.

The Weight of Inevitability

It's inevitable. The Republican nomination of He Who Must Not Be Named. Sometimes the burden of inevitability on my shoulders is so daunting that I awake in the middle of the night terrified of the future.

Perhaps this seems over the top to you. Sure, maybe for a privileged white woman like myself. But not for the millions of non-whites who call this country home. Regardless of their resident status, if they are earthlings, they are already home. Ibtijah Muhammad, a Muslim-American Olympian, says, "That you have minorities who for so long have been oppressed, who for so long have been confined to particular spaces breaking out of these norms and breaking barriers-that's what makes America great." Yes, Ms. Muhammad. Yes, indeed.

Yet, we have a man - a man who is supported by millions - who suppresses the very idea of such achievement. A man who preys on the weak through mockery and condemnation. A man who looks at people as just another game to win, rather than the humans they are. And his supporters? They make pathetic statements like this one from Natalie Ventura in my fair home state of ridiculousness (of course): "I don't always agree with the message. But we aren't voting for the message. We're voting for the messenger." WTF?! What kind of crazy are you?! And how do I take America back from lunatics like you?

Sufficiency is Not Abundance

Sufficiency is not abundance. When did America become this absurdly greedy nation of faction and division? This is what a history of slavery and capitalism create - fences, not tables. More for me means less for you.

So, why are the happiest countries some of the poorest ones? Perhaps they are building tables, instead of fences.

An Extroverted Introvert

Several years ago I talked about this same topic. I'm often asked to explain why I define myself as an introvert because most people see me as wholly outgoing and personable. Well, that's true...but only sometimes. Ambivert or extroverted introvert - they're all the same to me. I'm somewhere in the middle of a spectrum, in between two opposites. Hot ice cream.

This article does a great job of explaining me in a few short paragraphs! After reading, you'll probably be more confused by this explanation, but something tells me a lot of bloggers, in particular, may also subscribe to this theory. We like our public life but only behind a translucent veil of, perhaps only alleged but nevertheless, anonymity.

Abortion Activist

Did I get your attention? Damn straight I did! If I had written, Pro-Choice Activist as the title of this entry instead, would it have had the same effect? Warning: Rant ahead, and you already know where I stand on this issue.

So, what of this recent article? Of course, I acknowledge it's from a highly conservative, Catholic publication, and we ALL know where Catholics stand on this issue. My rant today is about how offended I am by Lands' End apology for featuring an extraordinary woman in their catalog. I just saw it last night while sorting my mail and thought, "Wow, what a terrific thing for a company that predominantly serves women to feature inspiring female leaders!" And then I open up my newsfeed this morning to this shit. Seriously?! Individuals and organizations are boycotting the company because of their support of a woman who supports equal rights for women, so the company apologizes for the interview and feature article?! I suppose it's now my turn to boycott this beloved clothing company because they're stupid and wimpy.

And, by the way, here is one of the "native ads" that appeared beside said article. Bahahahaha. Bahahahaha. Get it together, people. Find a real issue to support!

Furthermore, the popular satirist John Oliver had a lot to say on the abortion issue. This news feature is both informative and hilarious! It's worth the 12+ minutes, trust me. He highlights the glaring problems with some of these legislative practices. What is/should be allowable in cases of rape or incest? What of women who face serious medical conditions or problems if they continue on with a pregnancy?

Last year, I took a free online course through Coursera that I highly recommend on this very topic of abortion. Geared toward medical professionals, it actually had a tremendous amount of relevant information for lay people like myself. The cultural and global norming issues covered in the course were particularly eye-opening. Do we really want to become a country - once again - of doctors with dirty knives in backwoods cabins, forcing women to extreme measures? Now, what's really in the best interest of women's healthcare?

Why is it that rational, critically-minded, intelligent people cannot understand this is not a black and white issue? Just because I'm pro-choice doesn't mean I actively legislate women to have abortions. On the other hand, I'm a condom activist, but that still doesn't solve many of the issues Oliver raises in his editorial. Think, people, think! Then again, maybe it's because you really aren't those adjectives referred to above that are necessary for said rationalization.

Losing Our Balance

The American constitution is based on three pillars, or branches as they are more commonly known: executive (the president), legislative (congress), and judicial (courts). I am outraged that there is controversy over whether or not to appoint and confirm a Scalia replacement under President Obama's leadership because, and I quote, "We already have four democrats on the Supreme Court, and an Obama appointment would solidify five and the majority." If the responsibility of the court system is to interpret the law, then why do we continue to affiliate judges with a political party?! Are they not indeed unbiased analyzers of the law, but rather executors of political agendas? If we are looking for "political" reform, this is where we need to begin.

Divergent

One of the areas of my life I continue to spend quite a bit of reflection on are my relationships with women. I struggle to find like-lifed and like-minded relationships. What is like-lifed, you ask? Well, someone with life goals similar to my own. Simply stated, unmarried without children. When you are 30+, this is increasingly more and more difficult to find.

It doesn't mean that I'm not overjoyed upon receiving phone calls from long-time friends telling me they are finally pregnant, but times with these women change drastically upon hearing such news. No more last-minute happy hour rendezvous (without a baby in stow), no more weekend getaways (without a tremendous amount of pre-planning), and certainly no more late-night gab sessions. Like-lifed relationships are important.

But what of like-minded? Thankfully, I live in a big city, and as such, the population tends to be more liberal than average. However, what of the women I've always known, have always been there for me, yet enable hatred and elitism? The women who have decided to support Trump in this upcoming election. How do you rationalize that fact with being the same individuals I always envisioned standing next to me on my wedding day (if that elusive day ever did come)? Perhaps a day I marry one of the very individuals Trump has said is not worthy of being here.

Somewhere, my road diverged greatly from that of most from my small town. Once divergent, is there any way to reconcile the paths? Right now, the quagmire of my feelings is too thick to tell.

Go Rogue or Go Home

You may have wondered why I decided to change jobs a few months back. In this post, I'm not going to go into all the minute details, but I reserve the right to do so in the future.

For this entry, I want to focus on why I do what I do when I do it. I'm passionate. I exude immense amounts of it, both in my personal and professional life. I discovered a little late in the game at my old company that my immense passion was no longer seen as an asset, and with that I was left with few options. Taking a better position at another organization, albeit farther away, seemed the best choice, and I have not regretted that decision in the least.

But I miss some of my comrades in arms from my previous employer. May you always Go Rogue or Go Home!

"Single" Parents

Disclaimer #1. A controversial post follows.
Disclaimer #2. I have no shame in self-disclosing that I have also fell prey to such erroneous verbiage.
Disclaimer #3: No forthcoming references, in any way, allude to a widow(er) or a selfless soul who has chosen to adopt outside of partnership.

I am at that point in my life spectrum where I have countless associates, some friends, and a handful of family members who have already befallen the divorce guillotine at least once. Yes, some are spry enough to have found two lucky partners to love them and hate them in their lifetime.  The utter preponderance of this group among my demographic is in itself worthy of commentary, but today I shall further narrow this population into divorced parents.

I absolutely abhor when someone who is divorced or unmarried says he or she is a "single" parent. Technically, no, you're not. Your former spouse/partner may not be contributing to your level of expectation - whether financially, emotionally, or otherwise - to the raising of your child, but you are not as you assert a single parent. So, stop saying otherwise.

You chose to have a child. You obviously thought enough of the mother/father of your child to get naked with him/her, so suck it up. Figure it out. Your child doesn't have one parent. He/she has two. Two. So, no, you're not single. Never again.

Anger is Beautiful

All of our lives, we are taught that anger is bad, yet "stripped of physical imprisonment and violent reaction, anger is the purest form of care" and "the deepest form of compassion."

Anger is profound. It reminds us that we are alive. It is the "unwillingness to live the full measure of our fears or of our not knowing...in the face of simply being alive and loving those with whom we live."

Anger is exposed. "Anger is only what is left of its essence when we are overwhelmed by its accompanying vulnerability."

Anger is love. "Anger...is the measure of the way we are...made vulnerable through love."

Anger is, simply, beautiful.

Commute Ponderings

My new job requires a much longer commute, and as such, I am resigned to find ways to pass the time. While my evening journey revolves around phone conversations with my mother, my morning commute centers upon NPR, and I have quickly become a David Greene groupie. Most mornings are a tug-of-war with my heart and sometimes even my soul. I'm either enraged at some recent atrocity our "best country in the world" has committed -  see deported vets or medical insurance - or reminded that there is still hope in humankind during the weekly StoryCorps segment - see Real Men Cry or HIV. As Kate DiCamillo notes, "Stories are light. Light is precious in a world so dark." Regardless, it's one intensely amazing way to pass the time.

Event Planning Guru

Nothing drives me crazier than an event that is poorly planned and poorly managed. Having a job that requires expertise in event planning makes every event I attend an agonizing expose on everyone else's inability to properly plan and execute. If I feel bad for myself, I feel worse for any comrades that join me for such events, as I am never without comment or complaint.

A Beautiful Nightmare: Saying Goodbye

I attempted to write this post a few weeks ago, and the words just wouldn't come. Today, that has all changed. I can't type nearly as fast as my brain wants me to.

I had a dream last night, a nightmare to some, but either way, I now have the most serene peace about me.

Every winter break, I head home for the holidays. Home is, as you know, in a very small town in another state from the one in which I now reside. For the first time in 12 years, I had not been home since the previous winter break. I was of course reminded of the need for a holiday survival guide, but more importantly and perhaps ironically, I was confronted with the realization that everything in that small town isn't so bad after all.

I was blown away by one thing in particular during this recent trip home: family that are friends and friends that are family. Sometimes in a small town, those lines are more blurred than anywhere else.

I want to tell you a story. A story of a nondescript girl who grew up in a less than perfect home with a less than perfect family. Sounds like a typical coming of age story, right? Well, this one was probably less than perfect in more ways than the norm, and there were many, many secrets which this girl carried. At the age of 13, a boy came into her life, quite unexpectedly. He would be what most would call from the "other side of the tracks," but he was extremely attractive and the potential conquest of many of the other schoolgirls. This girl, however, had never given him a second glance...until he expressed interest in her, that is. At first, this plain girl was truly baffled by his attention. What could he possibly see in her? But, over time, she lessened her defenses and let him in...into her heart. He was a place of solace in a world not often forgiving. And then one day, he kissed her, and she knew true passion for the first time.

Fast forward twenty years. The girl has grown up and learned to lay to rest the demons that once plagued her, and the boy has become a father. Much like the first time he came into her life, he once again negotiated his way into hers. She was quickly reminded of how she had once felt saved by him, and though no longer in need of saving, she was wooed by his charm and compassion. The boy from the "other side of the tracks" was no longer just that.

As with most of the stories in this woman's life, this one is not without complication. Throughout their renewed relationship, the man continued his relationship with his child's mother, despite wanting something different for himself, and in the end, he decided to let the woman from his childhood go. Selfishly, when he reached out to her months later, expressing his true feelings about the situation, she was still too wound up in her own pain to respond. A decision she would come to regret in ways unfathomable.

You see, this man was taken from this earth much too soon. On a random day in the spring of 2013, he was involved in a vehicular accident that resulted in his death. Unable to previously come to terms with the many secrets of this story, she was finally able to visit him during this recent trip home. It was a much needed experience but still did not provide the closure for which I had yearned. (Of course, this story, like all of my blog, is about me.)

Last night, though, in my sleep, he came to me as clear as day. And I told him: "I don't care if you don't love me; just don't leave me." It was a nightmare, but I didn't want to wake up. I felt as though I was right where I was always meant to be, since that first time he kissed me on a school bus during a class field trip. Goodbye, and thank you for loving me.

Hello by Adele - what else?!