So where have I been?! Ohh let me tell you....

I am so excited for Saturday and I have been thinking this since Monday morning. I can't wait to not sleep in and get up early to write. I can't wait to clean up my living room and mop the floors and clean the kitchen. I can't wait to hang up my new curtains and put away all my laundry. I can't wait to sit back and enjoy the sparkling clean awesomeness of my apartment as I write away the weekend.

Sometimes I wonder, what the hell happened to Jess, and why is she so into cleaning? I have no idea when it started, but I just can't stand a messy apartment. Not to say it isn't messy often, of course it is. I am too damn busy all the damn time. Let's discuss shall we what has been going on since my long absence....time to go back....

September: I got a new job towards the end of August and it picked up dramatically in Sept. I am now a DI Producer, which is basically a glorified name for a movie babysitter. No joke though I love my job and it was never something I thought I would do. I basically get to talk to people all day about their movies and work with my team to get them colored and rendered out for final master to go to theaters. Now there is a tone of stress and crazy nights in this wild lifestyle of film making, but I love the energy and love the outcome. There is nothing cooler than being in a theater surrounded by strangers and seeing you name wiz by on the big screen!

October: My best friend got Married!! To which I was the Maid of Honor. This was a crazy whirl wind day and several months prior. I will say I have never seen a more beautiful couple, I love my family of friends.

November: Me and my boyfriend really got into the feelers. Very long back story on my boyfriend, who on this site we will call Bear (because I respect his privacy and he will giggle when he sees the nick name), but I won't get into the details of our history just yet. Anyways, things got intense in November, in a good way. There was some serious growth between us, and serious growth for me.

December: Is always insane with the Holidays...enough said there. Plus I was sick, yuck!

January: Work hit me like a ton of bricks. Busy all the time and there were just no breaks ever.

February: Probably the best damn Valentines Day I have ever had. Bear made me the most amazing meal and we chowed down with gusto! This was the month that I realized I hadn't been in a serious relationship this long (6 months at the time) since over two years previous. That....amazed me. But finally I felt like I found someone that gets me, that I love to giggle and laugh with, someone that chases me around the living room trying to tickle me. I was quite giddy in love and on the best most amazing cloud 9.

March to Now: Still busy with work, but more determined than ever to finish my first novel, The Praetorians. I decided I need to stop waiting and just get working. I want to put the name out there, I want to put my name out there, and I need to stop wasting time and procrastinating. So...then came the idea for a new name, a changed look, a fresh-ish start.

Now: I am J. McSpadden, I am a new writer about to reach the point of needing an agent for my first novel; The Praetorians, and I am ready to share my moments of hard work, struggle, excitment, and enjoyment with you all.

Here's to a fresh start, I hope you enjoy it all!

SS: Kismet PT I

I believe in life there are specific moments that change the whirlwind course of your future. They knock you straight off your path and onto a new road. Once the dust clears you see the spot light of a new route, a new location, a new destination, but none of this could have been possible without your previous steps. This one moment can shift your whole universe, but only if you are willing to accept it. My entire life changed the minute I met him, and once I saw his face I knew there was no going back to the way things were.

I know what you are thinking, I can hear the high pitch drone of your question even as these words spill out of my brain, “But Grace, this sounds like the typical beginning to the most typical love story in everyone’s mind-numbing typical life.” To this I say no and not because my life is unusual and extravagant in any way but because there is only one moment like this. Even if I knew the correct steps to replicate the moment I met him, the exact second our eyes connected, I would never get it right. This isn’t a typical love story, because I promise you there is nothing like this.

Sitting in a crowded bar and listening to overly loud hipster folk music I stare across the small circular table at my date. His greasy blonde hair is slicked over to one side, his suit coat is commendable even if it’s a little short on the sleeves, his pants are abhorrent and should never be allowed to be worn outside of the house. From the neck up he is what most people would perceive as a stuck in the closest, never want to come out, hard core gamer nerd. He isn’t wearing the glasses to match this description, but the indentation lines on the bridge of his nose and his never ending squinting when it comes to ordering is a harsh give away. From the neck down to his waist I would say he has class and style. The coat may be a bit small, but it’s a classic vintage tweed coat. The heavy elbow patches fit in nicely with the light burnished brown tint, even the small blue flower sticking smartly in the front coat pocket completed the image of debonair. That’s where it stopped unfortunately. From the waist down he wore overly tight rusty colored jeans that clung to a man in a way that no pair of pants ever should. His skinny chicken legs made me fear for his sturdiness, one steady sweep of the legs and those bones would snap like a dried pine branch in the woods.

This man I shrewdly stare at is not the man that changes my life and I would hope you didn’t think mister rusty skinny jeans was. I did tell you that he changed my life, but I never said my life began with him. My eventful days started way before destiny decided to get up off her lazy ass and help me, though really the beginning would never be something I would ever complain about. Growing up I had a phenomenal family, many wonderful adventures, I was lucky as a kid, but you don’t need to hear about that. You probably want to hear more about him, but instead I need to first fill you in on the details leading up to that moment. I promise you the wait is worth it, at least that’s what I have been telling myself. The wait is worth it, though I disagree at the moment. The man across from me turns his attention away from the slinky blonde behind the bar to look back in my direction.

“Do you want another drink?” he yells over the squealing notes of the violin several feet behind me.

“Sure,” I reply casually. If I was going to enjoy myself I figured I should at least drink up as much as he was willing to buy.

The blonde man, or Zared as he called himself, slipped over to the bar engaging the cleavage enhanced bartender. I turned my thoughts toward other avenues. Unfortunately this happens a lot. I feel like most of my life is wild moments of rushing only to sit and wait for something to happen. I can’t tell you how much I hate this, how much I hate just waiting. So many outsiders have told me, “Just you wait Grace, the man of your dreams will come in and sweep you off your feet.” Those people are so full of bovine fecal material.

Zared comes back with an overly orange Old Fashion, too much simple syrup and not enough whiskey. It was free so I didn’t complain even though I knew for certain the bartender made his with a little more care and precision. Small annoyance to the overall picture.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked softly, almost too softly. I could have ignored him pretending I didn’t hear his simple sweet question, but I knew what he was really saying. ‘Do you want to get out of here, or am I wasting my time.’ He was most definitely wasting his time.

The date ended uneventfully. He tried to kiss me, but I turned my head and allowed him to graze my cheek in a slobbery mess of a kiss. “Um…thanks.” I said as sweetly as possible and then grabbed my keys and made a dash for it. Horrible right? Totally uneventful and boring. Nothing to look forward to, and nothing to get excited about, it was just another day. But then, like I told you everything changed. 

After a long string of uneventful nights, even worse mornings, a typical routine of work, play, sleep, and drunk, my life suddenly catapulted into over drive. The moment was so casual and normal that I almost missed it, but when I saw him I knew this wasn’t an average day. It was like a slow movie unraveling right before my eyes. 

The day was sunny and achingly beautiful, the weather couldn’t have been more pleasantly perfect, the wind whipped up around my ankles flipping the long dress I wore languidly back and forth across my legs, pure bliss. I was standing against the chain linked fence watching the little league game with mild interest when I saw him walking toward me. The sun glittered over his features making the soft chestnut of his hair shine like freshly polished cherry wood. Grassy green eyes smiled back at me and a solo dimple caught my attention as he walked straight up to me. I didn’t know him, didn’t know his name or who he was but his eyes told me differently, he knew me.

“I know that face, Grace Parker, isn’t it?”

They were simple words, easy words, a normal everyday sentence but from that moment on, my life changed in a way that I could never repeat even if I tried. You may try to prove me different, but I tell you this out of pure confidence. The sequence of events lining up to this one purely wonderful moment is completely wacky in the most ridiculous and unforeseen ways. I may not believe in the all-powerful almighty poking his nose into my life to guide me on a special journey, but I do believe there is a special path just begging us to stroll over. I believe it in the way I desperately want to believe in the idea of Santa Clause and the Easter bunny. It’s unforeseen magic is the beauty of it all. Maybe I didn’t cross paths with fate, maybe my version of kismet truly isn’t real, but as I stare into the grassy green eyes of my future partner in crime there is nothing else closer to the truth.

SS: Online Dating and Pepper Spray

 

My mother told me when I moved to LA that I needed to be careful in every situation. I took that to heart in a lot of ways, but it’s really difficult to be one hundred percent safe when jumping into the abyss of online dating. I try mainly to keep my perimeter safe; crowded meeting location, not too dark, keep the first date relatively short, always always keep pepper spray on hand, and wear pants.

 

I would never profess myself an expert, if I was, I probably wouldn’t still be dating. I would however qualify myself as an experienced “first dater” because I have been on so many random, horrible, awesome, ridiculous first dates that most people wouldn’t believe me if I told them. I am just a typical girl though struggling to live in the big bad city of Los Angeles. Never would I say I’m the typical LA girl though, I’m far from it. My name is Grace Parker, I have reddish brown hair that falls down just below my shoulders, bright green eyes that change colors depending on the weather, fair skin and a good amount of freckles, longish legs though a slightly short torso and a decently sizable upper torso. Yes, all of this I somewhat highlight in my profile, paints a great picture doesn’t it? What I don’t say…I am not the skinniest girl ever though I wouldn’t call myself fat. I would put myself somewhere in the middle, curvy though confident with what I have. I don’t have a “decent backside” but I never stop doing squats because I am told again and again that that is how you “work that booty”…whatever that means. You see my point is; online profiles don’t tell you everything.

 

Like right now, I am sitting at the bar top because it’s way too cold to stand outside. I don’t care what people from the Mid-West say to me, I know I am in Los Angeles, but I am from Southern California. Sixty degrees with a slight wind chill wearing skinny jeans and a flimsy top is considered cold to me.

 

Shaking my head in annoyance that I left my overly heavy peacoat in my car I try to shake off the chills of the slightly full bar. There aren’t a whole lot of people, but the bar itself is dark and crowded in the small space allotted. Not my usual digs either, though I would never turn down a dive bar I typically go for places that have more than three beers on the tap list, especially if those beers end in “Lite”.  A sharp throat clearing from behind me grates into my ear and I turn my head to find my date.

 

First impression, oh dear god what did I get into. Second impression, I swear he didn’t look that short on the profile.

 

“Hi,” I squeaked out. Yes, I squeak, and surprisingly it pulled a smile from mister short stuff.

 

“Hey there, you look beautiful tonight.” His eyes did the whole dart down my body and slowly slide back up thing forgetting to look me in the eyes again for several long seconds. He wasn’t bad looking at all, in fact he had a really cute way about his style. I would put it somewhere between punk, surfer, and college frat boy. “Can I get you a drink?” He asked after his eyes found their way back to my face.

 

“Sure, I’ll have an Old Fashioned.” Though I might need two to get through this one. His eyes were already doing that wide open saucer gaze meaning that in about five minutes I would have to figure out a way to distance myself from his groping hands. Actually it took less than three minutes.

 

After one old fashioned and a complimentary shot of Jameson by my over eager date and I was ready to leave. Not leave with him leave, just leave, run away and never see this guy again. In the span of 20 minutes (I still can’t believe I lasted that long!) he asked me to join him back at his place for a threesome, because coming back to be with him, a virtual stranger, wasn’t already extremely strange. He wondered where I was from because I was so exotically beautiful, which makes him (as my grandmother would put it) fecally impacted with bovine manure. I am from Southern California, I am Scottish/Irish/English/with a dash of Native American. I am not exotic, I am a white girl with freckles which I feel like is highly common in the wild outback of…Los Angeles. Exotic my arse! He told me that he would love love love to have a girlfriend as beautiful as me which he followed up with flickered of eye contact toward my shirt and a biting/licking of his lower lips. Gross.

 

“You are the most beautiful thing,” he said with a slight slur. The alcohol was definitely getting to him.

 

“I am not a thing, I am a person you know.” I replied snippily. I couldn’t help it. It was the hundredth time I pushed his hand off my upper thigh only to have him slip his hand down my lower back. I no longer cared about being nice, or being a sweet first date, I was getting angry. I was all for a little mild flirting, but I have boundaries, and mister hands on tactic had crossed over the line. “I really actually need to be going.”

 

“No, you can’t, you haven’t been here nearly long enough!”

 

“Funny, I feel like I have massively overstayed my welcome.”

 

He didn’t find that funny at all, the pursed lips and scrunched eyebrows that made him resemble a frustrated child showed proof of that. “You haven’t finished your drink, and if you leave before you do, you can pay for yours yourself.”

 

I sneered at him, and honestly if I was a dragon he would have been burnt toast after that comment. “You ordered these drinks, and your card is up at the register. Remove your hands from me, I am leaving.” I stood without caring what he said, or even what he did. I was in a bar full of people, there wasn’t much he could do to harm me, but just in case I pulled my pepper spray from my purse and held it tightly in my hand.

 

I started toward the door but didn’t get all that far before a hand yanked on my elbow from behind and I quickly found a sharp corner of the wall at my back, and a short yet surprisingly muscular body at my front. “Leaving without finishing your drink is rude sweetheart, leaving me without a kiss goodnight is just down right mean.” At this point, the panic started to taste like bile in my throat. This man child was beyond ridiculous, he was actually leaning in toward me for a kiss.

 

“You must be joking,” I replied, though failed to keep the blatant shock from my voice. He totally wasn’t kidding.

 

“Well if you aren’t going to kiss me,” he said as his hands pulled away from my body giving me a momentary moment of relief. That is until I saw where his hands were traveling. In the loud atmosphere of the bar I couldn’t actually hear it, but I knew that the zipper to his pants was being pulled down. I saw him reach into his overly tight man skinny jeans. “If you aren’t going to kiss me,” he reiterated as he pulled out his proportionately sized member to his smaller stature, “then you can at least touch him for me?”

 

I think I laughed, though maybe choked on air would be a better explanation of my reaction. Regardless, I smiled, looked him straight in the eyes and lifted up my cute little pink bottled pepper spray. “If you don’t move away from me, and put that little tuna can you have there away, I will happily spray your junk with my pepper spray.”

 

Shock, horror, and bewilderment crossed his overly tanned face before his hands flew up into the air leaving his pants splayed wide open and his little member flopping back and forth in equal amounts of surprised terror. “Whatever you say bitch, just don’t shoot me!”

 

Of course me standing up for myself makes me a bitch. Of course everything I did until that very moment was seen as an invitation. I didn’t care, because I hadn’t done anything to deserve what he was putting me through, and I wouldn’t take what he had to offer sitting down. I kept my finger on the trigger and backed away toward the door before I pushed I open and slipped out into the night. I felt exuberant and disgusted with the evening, horrified and amazed.

 

I walked back to my car (I would say a nice clipped power walk to be safe) with my keys in my hand, my pepper spray still gripped between my fingers and a smug smile on my face. No one would ever force me into anything I didn’t want to do, and if they did, I wouldn’t hesitate to spray their junk. Best line of the night…

 

 

 

 

Short Story: The Best Friend Rules

1)      Don’t get too close to a guy you see everyday

2)      Don’t become really good friends with him if you are already attracted

3)      Don’t let him give you hugs for random moments outside of saying hello and goodbye

4)      Don’t let him see you without makeup

5)      Don’t let him see you cry

6)      Don’t become best friends

7)      Don’t fall in love with your best friend

8)      I said don’t…..

 

 

I know these rules as well as I know the back of my hand, but just like the back of my hand there are moments of, “where the hell did that freckle come from!” No matter how well you know something, it doesn’t mean it won’t change.

 

It’s easy, I will get right to the point, I met him on a Thursday morning on the first day of class. It was my final semester in college and I was more than ready to be done with it. I have heard the age old saying, “college isn’t about learning, it’s about putting up with all the bullshit to see if you have enough guts to wade through the massive stinking piles surrounding you.” I was done wading, and ready to start living.

 

It was the first day of Applied Arts, a mess around class that basically allowed you to fool around for most of the semester. You had six weeks to build three separate master pieces, with any form of structure, any use of materials, you just made random shit for six weeks and then presented it at the end of the class at a gallery art show. It was my last class, and the only class I had all semester long, my days would be easy sailing from here on out.

 

I sat down in a chair toward the middle of the wide classroom, and watched as the expansive room filled up with well over 50 students. Most of them I knew, but like most private schools with off campus living, I wasn’t all that close to many people in my classes save a few. Perhaps I would be making more friends before the end of the class.

 

I shouldn’t have thought that, I should have just kept to myself and choose a seat right up front, but as fate would have it I didn’t. As fate would have it, he sat next to me. Taylor Garland. I’d seen his face several times before, but we had never shared a class. It didn’t stop him from sitting next to me and saying, “Hey Grace,” like he had known me for years. It didn’t stop him from making silly jokes throughout the first day of lecture like we were already best buds, and it didn’t stop him from asking for my number as a work buddy when the Professor said we would need a partner for our first project.

 

I won’t lie, the first three weeks went by uneventful enough. After the first day of being shocked by the up close view of his stunning copper brown hair, and seriously brilliant green eyes, I was able to keep my girly-ness in check. I didn’t swoon when he walked through the door, and my breath didn’t catch in my throat. For three whole weeks he was just a friend, a sweet natured, easy going buddy; then one day all of that changed.

 

It was a random day in the middle of the week and I was running late for class. I lived less than mile away from school but it was still a hefty jog if I was going to walk. I hated being late, and to be honest it had nothing to do with my teacher giving me the evil eye, it actually had everything to do with Taylor. Even though I hated to admit it, I loved every second I had with him, and it was slowly becoming a problem. I would rush to class and get there before he would casually saunter in, and at the end of class I would slow my pace and put everything away one little piece at a time. I wanted more minutes next to him, and as much as I was trying to deny my affection growing, I just blamed it on the fact that he was a good friend and I enjoyed his company. What dirty evil lies I feed myself, nasty dark bitter lies.

 

Not only was I running late, but I was also unable to get my car to start, and me being the idiot that I am decided it was a great idea to call Taylor. “Hey, I don’t think I am going to be able to make it to class today. You think you can handle taking notes for me?”

 

“No!” Was his first response. “I’m not even there yet, if you aren’t going I’m not going. Where are you, I’ll come get you.” I should have said no, I should have lied, I shouldn’t have told him exactly where I was because then he would know where I lived. I shouldn’t have told him that my car wouldn’t start forcing him to offer me a ride every day for the remainder of the class. Most importantly I shouldn’t have gone with him to the bar he took me to instead of being in class like we were supposed to be.

 

The first drink was ok, but the second one was uncalled for. The third one should never have happened and the fourth one I totally blamed on Taylor. We were giggling, and groping onto one another in our stumbling drunken state. We left his car at the bar and somehow managed to make it back to his apartment. We laughed and giggled the whole way down the hall to his room, and we stayed up all night playing stupid you tube videos and laughing at dumb music videos. We both agreed it was time to sleep at 5 in the morning, and we both equally crashed when our heads hit the pillow on his queen sized bed.

 

I woke with a slight headache, a rolling stomach, and a preconceived notion that I had mascara running down my face. “Hey, you have mascara running down your face raccoon,” he said without a pause when his eyes first split open.

 

“Thanks,” I replied sarcastically. “Your hair looks like Alphalpha and Einstein put together.”

 

“Wicked.” He said on a yawn. “Breakfast?” And that’s how our routine of sleepovers started. We never undressed around each other, we cuddled slightly but not obscenely, we just loved being around one another. There was slight sexual tension, but I only ever saw it on my side, I never really knew if he felt the same way. Maybe one morning I woke up to us spooning and I felt a little more of him than I should have, can’t say I regretted it, but I can say it made my cheeks flame bright red and I quickly scooted away so he didn’t know I noticed.

 

Two weeks before our class was over we were listening to a lecture on the practical use of wire in plaster molds. Maybe 15 minutes into the teachers introduction to new metal materials I felt Taylor’s hand moving up my calf the tops of my black zipper boots. He reached for the zipper and pulled it all the way down leaving my boot to flop open like a peeled banana. He didn’t fix the zipper he just left it wide open flashing me with a daring smile with the words, ‘wanna play?’ sparking from his grassy eyes. For the next 45 minutes I endured, ok maybe I thoroughly enjoyed, Taylors hand slowly sliding up my calf and then slowly zipping down my boot as his fingers trailed over my skin to the tops of my ankles before I reached down and zipped the boot back into place. Zip. Caress. Zip. Repeat. When class was over he reached over and gave me a hug. “Hey be right back, I have to head to the counselors office, but I’ll meet you out front in about 15 minutes ok?” I nodded, and that was when casual un –needed yet totally wanted hugs popped into our lifestyle.

 

Three nights after the boots charade I found myself doubled over in fit of pain begging any god that would listen to fix me. Which is ridiculous when you think about it really, there is no point begging for anyone to fix the problems of being a human, but it would be nice if someone listened. I didn’t get a god to help ease my pain though, I got Taylor. As the kidney stone worked its vicious tricks inside my body threatening to cleave me in two, Taylor walked into my room screaming at me to get off the pot. It was funny, but I couldn’t laugh, instead a stream of tears slipped through my lashes and I cried out like a woman giving birth to an elephant. I wish I was exaggerating, but I’m seriously not. Those little spiky calcium bastards hurt like a bitch!

 

“Grace, babe, what’s wrong?” Taylor asked as he fell to the floor in my bathroom. He had pounded through the bathroom door like a battle ram almost like he thought someone was murdering me, but when he saw me cowering on the floor in a pile of messy sweat ridden clothes and massive tears streaming down my face his eyes flipped over to concern in an instant. He called me babe, was all I could focus on. Which seriously was ridiculous looking back at the situation. I was on the floor in a fit of pain, a kidney stone was stabbing my internal tubing like a blood crazed axe murder and the only thing on my mind was, he called me babe. Crazy, I was going crazy. “Tell me babe, what’s wrong?”

 

“Kidney stones,” I whisper on a wave of pain desperately trying to hold back the tears. Before I could stop myself though, I thought of Dane Cook, don’t ask me why because I will never understand why it popped in my head. We had only watched the stand up video one time that very first night we were together but before I could hold the reins on my idiotic rambling I looked him dead in the eyes with tears streaming and said, “I did my best.”

 

That was when I no longer saw him as just a school friend, he was a rock of strength for me. He was my go to friend to call in all situations. When I locked myself out of my apartment he climbed through the window. When I stubbed my toe walking to his car he lifted me up and carried me the rest of the way before running (and I mean quickly running) back to the school to grab me a band-aid. To answer any questions popping up in your head no we hadn’t kissed, we hadn’t cuddled naked, or do anything that involves the naked tango. We were just friends, really good, really close best friends.

 

When he stood in front of the class on the last day, I knew I was in trouble. I knew I was done for. I couldn’t stop staring at his lips. They were so beautiful as he spoke, I wondered right then and there what they tasted like. I was desperate to know, but I knew I wasn’t allowed to have that knowledge. Best Friends don’t kiss each other, they don’t, and that’s because Best Friends don’t fall in love with each other.

 

All my rules, every single one of them snapped in two, I let all of them fall through my fingers because of this one beautiful man. I was stuck then, because I couldn’t look at him any other way. My eyes lingered longer. My hands itched to slide through his hair. I just wanted to be close to him, I wanted to hold onto him and have it be more than just friends.

 

On the evening of the Art Show I dressed my best to impress. Little black dress and strappy black heels, hair curled and make-up on, I was a much hotter version of my typical dressed down state. By the looks in his eyes when he picked me up, he thought the same. “Hey sexy lady, you need a ride?” He cooed at me from the street as he pulled up to the curb.

 

I giggled and tried not to let my imagination run wild with hunger over what he just said. I didn’t want to let my thoughts slip into more dangerous territory, but staring back at his crisp grey button down and black slacks, I knew I wasn’t going to win that fight. I was losing, quickly. The night was amazing, and like always we had our own secret fun between just the two of us while we were surrounded by people that we didn’t much care for.

 

I told myself no, I swear I screamed it when I looked up into his face as the lights dimmed and a short video popped up on the far wall running through a montage of school work unable to make it to the Art Show. His eyes locked on mine too, a small dare of, ‘let’s see who blinks first.’ But the perversion of our games usually headed down a more dramatic ending, and as the music grew louder, the space between us grew smaller. I felt his breath across my lips, and my eyes slipped close before I could stop them.

 

What happened next I didn’t plan because there is no way for me to plan things like this. You don’t just decide, a best friend is just that…a friend. But not Taylor, he was more than that to me, more than I could have expressed to him in single words or looks. I didn’t know how else to explain it to him, and instead of thinking through my actions I did what any completely insane love sick puppy girl would do. I slammed my lips against his causing him to jerk into sudden stillness with shock. It was only for a second, but the butterflies that swarmed in my stomach made it feel like hours.

 

“Um…,” he said immediately after I pulled back.

 

“Yeah,” I replied, my eyes still closed tight. But I didn’t stop there, why would I? There was no reason to be realistic and think that after a sharp biting kiss that me speaking was a good idea. I wasn’t in my right mind, I was losing my shit, but I did it anyways. Such an idiot. “I’m falling in love with you.”

 

Those words, they are death when unwarranted. They are cruel evil punishment when not expected, they are sharp grating knives when used without consent. He didn’t reply, he just stared at me, his glossy green eyes blinked several times but he didn’t speak. His hands reached out for my waist and he pulled me in for a soft hug. My heart felt like it was about to leap out of my chest. “I think we should go home Grace.”

 

He gave me a hug, so that was sweet. He drove me to my apartment, but he didn’t stay over. He said he had work in the morning. I didn’t see him the following day because I had work that evening. One day led into two, which trickled into four. It was the longest amount of time we had been apart since we met. I felt like my body was literally dying from the inside. My heart felt like a withering stone flaking into useless ash inside the barren cave of my chest. I not only pushed him away, I kicked him out of my life with six simple words.

 

My heart only fluttered fifty thousand times when I saw his car parked outside my apartment the next afternoon. My steps only felt like 100 pounds of lead as I saw his shoulder leaning against my door like he was trying to force the wood open by his weight alone. I might have stopped breathing when he turned toward me his eyes wide and sad like he hadn’t meant to kill the joyful bouncy puppy like friendship we originally had before he suddenly disappeared. I tried to speak, but the words just wouldn’t come out.

 

He took three steps toward me and stopped before his hands reached out and pulled me into the tightest hug I had ever experienced. I breathed him in because it felt like he was saying goodbye as much as he was saying sorry. I tried to remember the feeling of his warmth because it felt like I would never get to feel it again. I felt his face nudge closer to my ear as the heat of his breath slipped down my neck before he whispered the words that would change my life forever. “I love you too.”

 

 

 

 

Prologue: Potholes

Everyone has a story that needs to be told. Everyone carries the puzzle around that makes up the entity of their life, a growing mash of pieces shoved together to make you who you are. Some stories are typical, some are appalling and scary, but my story can only be explained as ironically normal and strange. I don’t life a weird life, and I would never consider it out of the ordinary, but the short stories I want to share with you will add up to where I am today. One at a time isn’t so bad, but as I look back and review each tale in sordid detail I am starting to realize, my life is not ordinary, quite honestly my life is extremely comical in the most depressing and lonely way.

 

Don’t worry though, I’m not sad, though I repeatedly reminded that perhaps I should be, I am in fact not. I don’t really have much to complain about; I have a decent job though it doesn’t pay fantastically, I have phenomenal friends that I hang out with regularly, I have a beautiful apartment and share it with an amazing roommate, I own the most adorably annoying and perfectly doggish Pug named The Dude, I have a wonderful family, awesome siblings, super supportive parents….in a nut shell I am truly amazing blessed. So where does the comedic tradgedy come in? Well two things actually.

 

1)      I have a completely abysmal dating history, like seriously completely atrocious.

2)      I have come to realize that I am the living female version of Good Luck Chuck (from that movie with Dane Cook and Jessica Alba, basically everyone who dates me finds the PERSON OF THEIR DREAMS right after we split)

 

I mean this honestly, I have stories upon stories of HORRIBLE dating experiences that I can no longer keep to myself. I have been told over and over again that I need to share them with people, not just for the comedic value, but also maybe to shed some light on the insanely ridiculous crap I have had to put up with. Maybe, if enough men read this, they will see the pain they cause, they will understand the wrongs of their actions and make a change. Maybe I can let them in on the “how to not mess up a first date,” “how to not comes across as a tool,” “how to not seem shy even if you totally are,” “how to KEEP YOU HANDS OFF OF ME UNTIL WE ARE ATLEAST 10 MINUTES INTO THE DAMN DATE!!!!!” Or, maybe they will gloss over these words and continue down the path of lonely rude man that treats women like a piece of meat.

 

I don’t use this blog as a yelling source, I am sorry if I SHOUTY CAP every now and then, but sometimes I feel like I really need to make a point. This is a very big point, I am a 27 year old single female living in Los Angeles, and I have yet (in the whole three years that I have been here) to find a genuine man that is what I like to call, “A good match.”

 

Here is where a lot of outsiders say things like:

-You don’t need a man to be happy

-Screw them stay single

-Wouldn’t you rather be single than be with the wrong person

-Why would you want a relationship, being single is so much fun!

-Marriage isn’t real, love isn’t real, get used to it

 

I think now is the time to share my stories, share my experiences and puzzle pieces with you. Maybe you will hear something in them that helps you see the truth….we are all looking, some of us just found the route of extremely bumpy messed up roads. I think I found the worst road possible, right now I’m stuck on a particularly nasty pothole.

 

When did dating turn into this?

I am going to Preface this with a small note: I don’t need to explain to you why I am single, but I feel maybe other women want to hear they aren’t alone in the issues that crop up when you are a strong independent single woman.

 

I am going to follow that up with a small message: I don’t appreciate when I tell a guy I want to take my time, and get to know him and he automatically assume I am rejecting him and tell me…and I quote… “maybe you should go find some dumb ass meat head who only wants to get in your pants, maybe you just want that anyway.” Doesn’t that also mean that you are turning your hate on me because you are lonely and…also I quote…. “just want to be with someone, anyone, it doesn’t matter who as long as she wants to be with me. I don’t want to be single, and I want to find someone who also doesn’t want to be single.”

 

Yesterday I was asked a very simple question, one I know I have been asked before but for some reason when this question filtered through my synapses into my brain, it really irked me. The question was: “Why are you still single, is there something wrong with you?”

 

Now, to explain the situation, on this date were discussing the difficult position of being single when February hits. I, on one hand, would love a sweet romantic evening, but at the same time I don’t want that from any joe-schmoe. I would love to be with the person I love and care about, but if I don’t have that when the infamous hallmark holiday comes around I don’t get sad. I don’t worry about being alone, and I don’t care that I treat it like any other normal day. I actually enjoy being single, I enjoy the freedom and the carefree way I am able to live my life. Now, that isn’t to say being in a relationship sucks. If you are in a healthy relationship and love your S.O. then awesome for you, and I am happy for you!! I am only trying to get the point across that whether you are in a relationship or you are not, you should love living your life and enjoy what you have. Being single comes with many perks, as does being in a relationship, but when someone actually makes the point to stab at my singleness like it’s a disease, it makes me a little annoyed.

 

I am not single because I am forced to be, I am single because I choose to be. There is a very big difference between the two. I would rather be happy on my own than be in a miserable relationship because I am afraid to be by myself. Just because I am alone, doesn’t make me terminally lonely.

 

Something else that has happened more recently;  I am finding a lot of men take me trying to “be friends first” in a negative way. If I don’t meet a guy in the normal organic way, and we meet with the precedent of going on a date, they almost automatically assume that if the date went well I will be their girlfriend by the end of the week. I’m sorry boys, it doesn’t work that way. Even worse, they expect that if the date went well and I show interest, they assume they will also get lucky by the end of the night. I really really don’t understand that logic. (Now, disclaimer….of course this isn’t every date. I have had some seriously great dates, have amazing guy friends, and have dated some wonderful men that I am still really good friends with. Those are the men that I share with the people in my life, of course you don’t really hear about these guys that I am referring to because they rarely last longer than a week on my radar. Just needed to clarify.)

 

Look I like going on dates, I like meeting new people, and I like making new friends in the wild search for my one “true partner in crime.” The problem is, that once you do something that the guy you’re on a date with doesn’t like or agree with you immediately get dubbed the slut, the bitch, the crazy, the overly sensitive…they go from telling you they are beautiful to calling you a crazy psycho bitch in less than 30 seconds.

 

Now I am not knocking the dating scene, or first dates, on-line dating, or anything that involves dating. Like I said, I do enjoy the random outing, but I am more and more amazed at the reactions I get from guys when I tell them something they don’t want to hear. The list of things they usually get upset with……

1)      You are really nice, and thank you for the date, but I really think I should go home instead of going back to your place

2)      Well I have only known you for less than a day really, I don’t think being your girlfriend right now is a good idea

3)      I like to take my time and get to know a person before I become romantically involved with a person

4)      The first date was fun, but I don’t think you are what I am looking for in a relationship

 

Actual responses to these statements

1)      I thought you were fun and easy going not a stuck up bitch

2)      I thought we were really great together, we had so much fun. I guess I was wrong about you though, you just aren’t up to par of what a perfect woman should be

3)      Does that mean you play the field and sleep around, because I don’t date whores

4)      Fine, whatever, go sleep with all those other ass bags who treat you like crap. You probably like them for that anyways, sluts normally do.

Talk about defensive, crazy critical…..and RUDE!!

 

I know your reaction might be….”Jessica, why are you taking this so seriously?” Well, to be honest I am not taking it to heart, but I think I am more amazed at how many times this has happened in the last three years of me being single. This isn’t a onetime thing, this has happened repeatedly. Those men who swear they are the last gentleman alive, but then call you a total bitch and whore because you didn’t sleep with them. It seriously boggles my MIND!!!

 

The truth of the matter, I don’t need a man to be happy. I don’t need to lock down a boyfriend ASAP to make myself feel fulfilled. I don’t need someone else telling me who I am, and how I should  live my life, and that they think I am a shitty person. I know who I am, and I won’t apologize for also knowing what I want.

 

I am a single woman.

I am independent.

I am happy…and no one can take that away from me.

My inner dialogue....

Today I find that I think of random quotes, emotions, heartfelt words…they cram into my brain and fill my day with a flurry of images. I try to imagine the words on the page floating onto the screen, how do I describe this moment for the reader to see in their minds? How do I paint a picture with words that everyone knows but have never heard before? I yearn to share these moments, I want you to see the struggle and moments of elation with these characters that I have grown so fond of. I want to share this world with you, I want you to hear their voice and feel their pain. I only want you to see what I see, because to me, this story is beautiful.

-the constant thoughts of an aspiring writer

Short Story: The Unexpected New Year's Kiss

Cheers to a New Year my friends...here is a fun little short story for you to enjoy. Hope you like!

Glancing around the deserted street and sidewalk I glared hopefully up to the apparently empty building. No sign or welcoming neon lights pulled in the randoms and wanderers, it was by specific direction and word of mouth only that my favorite place could be found. Tucked behind the busy streets of down town Las Vegas, nudged between a sex shop and a watch repair building stood my favorite bar in the whole city; Bilbo’s Tavern.

Warm brick stacked haphazardly across the front of the building face with two boarded sections seemingly closing off barren windows and a lone street light casting a wide berth of orangish light over the black pavement. It was off the well-worn path of down town, not even remotely close to the strip of mass excitement and dirty escapades for what my beloved city is known for.

Tonight wasn’t a normal night though, the swarms of bodies filled the streets and bellowed their excitement into the bitter cold air with excited fervor. It was New Year’s Eve and only 40 minutes to the stroke of Midnight and for the first time in many many years I was completely alone.
At first I thought staying home would be a good idea, I even relished the thought of climbing into bed early tucking my feet beneath my plush new comforter and ringing in the New Year next to be best friend and closest confidant my little pug Wrigley. Unfortunately, 30 minutes before I dashed out of my quiet and quaint apartment, I saw a post on Facebook that changed everything about my plans for the evening. 

My long ago ex and long lost best friend of my past was engaged and at a fabulous party with his shiny new fiancé, and shiny new suit and tie. It was enough to make me vomit, but instead of sitting inside my apartment and wallowing in my own self-pity, I jumped out of bed, ran a brush through my tangled hair and slipped into the sexiest party dress I owned. My makeup was a little rushed, but still fancy enough for where I was headed, and my hair though slightly flat held a ruffled just out of bed sexy look to it. So maybe I was a little desperate to not feel so alone on the one night a year you don’t really want to be alone at all, but as I stood in front of the barren looking bar that had been my favorite retreat for years I almost regretted my decision.

I didn’t need the alcohol in my system, and I didn’t really need to be surrounded by a bunch of strangers that I didn’t care about, but what I did need was noise and distraction. Bilbo’s was the perfect place for that.
My three inch shiny gold heels clicked over the pavement as I sashayed toward the front entrance. As I pulled the heavy wooden door away from the wall wild music assaulted my brain with fierce intensity.

“ID,” the door man barked at me before looking up.

“It’s me Vic,” I practically yelled back over the raucous music thumping heavily into my bones.

“Ah, James! Good to see you girl, looking good tonight. Who’s the lucky guy on your arm?” The meat head door man looked past me into the empty alley way waiting for a second body to fill the already packed bar.

“Going stag tonight my friend,” I responded easily to which he frowned in response.

“That’s no good! You are far to pretty to be alone tonight. First drink is on me babe. Go tell Mark at the bar that your whiskey is on the house tonight.”

Always the one to please the pretty ladies that walked into his domain, I smiled sweetly into Vic’s dark brown eyes and thanked him for his generosity.

“I don’t think you will be alone for long in that outfit my dear,” he yelled at me as I sauntered toward the bar. Despite his overly bulky muscles and shaved head, Vic was a sweetheart in the middle. He appeared to be a door weight and a face without a brain, but he was one of the sweetest guys on a day to day basis.

Walking up to the bar my favorite bartender and long time good friend Mark saw me as I pushed my way through the sea of bodies to reach the mahogany bar top. “What’s it to be tonight ma’dear?”

“Whiskey on the rocks tonight, make it a double, generosity of Vic,” I said with a wave to the door.

“Coming at you,” Mark said as he pulled one of his top shelf Glenlivets from the glass shelves behind him. “Just one drink?” He questioned looking around behind me for a possible guest in tow.
“Just the one.”

The monitor overheard blasted the time and a video feed of the wild parties running around the strip of Vegas. It looked like fun, and I knew it would have been wild to be in the center of the party on New Year’s Eve, but again I just didn’t feel like a party. Perhaps it was the absence of all my long time friends, or that I had just broken up with my most recent boyfriend less than a month before. Either way, tonight was about hanging out and celebrating a new year. I wasn’t about to let the strain of being alone bother me.

Backing away from the bar top and into the throngs of bodies I lost my footing and slammed into a slightly squishy body just behind me.

“Whoa there little darlin’,” a high pitched voice belted out from behind me.

I turned around to find a young looking man not much older than possibly 25 with a thick black beard, overly tight grey pants and a shirt that clung a little to tightly to his round and beer filled belly. His face was slightly round but pleasant as he smiled down at me as I turned to apologize for ramming into him.

“That’s no problem at all, I don’t mind people running into me when they are as cute as you. What’s your name pretty lady?”

“Jamie, but most people call me James,” I said loudly.

“James,” he said experimentally before taking a sip of his beer adorned with a orange. My nose scrunched in annoyance at his beverage which I immediately tried to hide. I have always been a lover of good drinks, fine wines, oaky whiskey, and flavorful beers, but I can’t help but turn up my nose as beers with fruit in them. Something about it just seems terribly wrong. Good beer doesn’t need a flavor addition, good beer is good all on it’s own. Then again, that was the exact reason why all of my friends called me an uber beer snob.

“I’m Terrance,” the beer belly guy said as he pushed his chubby hand in my direction.

“Nice to meet you Terrance.”

He smiled at me with a look of intense hunger before he leaned in a little closer giving me a full nose of barbeque sauce and citrus beer. “You here alone James? A girl as pretty as you can’t be alone at Midnight, what would she possibly do for a New Year’s kiss?”

“Well I…” started to say, then jumped almost a foot in the air as a warm arm slinked around my waist and hoisted me up against soft warm flannel.

“There you are love, I have been looking for you,” a deep voice resonated from beside me.

I glanced up completely startled at the voice and saw sharp green eyes glittering down at me. I didn’t know this man who's hand was all too comfortable resting on my hip melding the black silk tightly to my skin.

“Oh Jude, I didn’t know you came with a date. Sorry man, didn’t mean to step in,” Terrance said slowly before backing away from me.

“No worries man, no harm no foul,” Jude said good naturedly.

“Nice meeting you James,” Terrance said before melting back into the crowd.

I stumbled away from Jude’s grip completely baffled at his forwardness in pulling me against him and tricking Terrance who was being a perfect gentleman away from me.

“What was that for?” I barked at him.

“Trust me, you don’t want to be next to that guy when the clock hits midnight. He has a pocket full of pills that would leave you without a sense of what you were doing. I just saved you a trip to the hospital, and a walk of shame that you wouldn’t have remembered.

I was completely blown away. “You can’t be serious,” I said completely dead pan.

“Cross my heart,” he said slowly before dragging a finger in an X motion over his chest.

Looking up into his deep green eyes I took in his full appearance and couldn’t believe how completely gorgeous he was. Not in a traditional way, but for me his look spelled trouble for my future. Long black hair curled about his head landing just below his ears. Thick eyebrows settled heavily over his wide green eyes leading down to a slightly narrowed nose. His face though angled and narrow gave his appearance a boyish quality as well as rugged with the overly scruffy cheeks and chin. He wore a red and black long sleeve flannel hanging over slightly tight black jeans and stocky black boots. Several tattoos peeked out from random places of open skin along his neck and his left hand bringing out the bad boy nature slightly covered by a mountain man display. A silver stud winked at me from the corner of his lower lip matching the twin silver plugs lodged in either ear.

“Jude is it?” I said slowly.

“Nice to meet you James was it? Interesting name for a girl,” he stated with a small grin on his face.

“It’s Jamie actually, but everyone calls me James. Long standing nic-name.”

“Well, James, since I just did you a huge favor I think you will have to make it up to me.” His eyes sparked with humor as his hand found its way back to my waist.

“Is that so?” I responded taking a small step back away from him. He might be really good looking and perhaps he had rescued me from a possible disaster, but I still didn’t know the guy and didn’t really like his tendency to touch me so intimately.

“You see until I saw you walk through that door, not a single girl caught my eye. I am alone on New Year’s Eve and I think that is just a horrible position to be in don’t you?”

“I don’t know, I seem to be doing alright with it so far,” I said bravely lifting my glass in his direction but as I glanced up at the clock the minutes to midnight were dwindling and I couldn’t get the image of my ex and his shiny new fiancé out of my head.

“You aren’t that good of a liar,” he clipped out.

“How do you know I’m lying?”

“Because you have glanced at the clock five times since we started talking and that was less than ten minutes ago.”

I paused without a single rebuttal and smiled at his forceful nature. I liked him, and I was pretty sure he knew it.

“So the plan is, I am going to walk up to the bar and order you a tasty beer. You look the type to like a good stout am I right?” I nodded enthusiastically. “And then I am going to come back here and cheers to the New Year with my new friend before I give her the best kiss she has ever had in 2014.”

“It isn’t 2014 yet?”

“Then I won’t have much competition will I?”

I giggled like a dumb school girl. What the hell was wrong with me? He turned around with a flirty wink and headed toward the bar with 12 minutes left in the year. Returning with two Duvel glasses filled to the brim with a rich creamy stout, Jude handed me my glass before clinking the lip of his to mine.

“Let’s cheers to a New Year, new friends, and our mutal friend Mark who told me I would be a blithering idiot if I didn’t approach you and try to steal a kiss from you tonight.”

My mouth almost hit the ground. “He didn’t!”

“He definitely did. That man has been hitting on me for almost two years now, and finally for once he plays the perfect gay wing man. I put in a lot of time to get a girl tip from him. Apparently he pointed me in the right direction.”

“You have been coming here for two years?” I asked more shocked than anything else. I had been going to Bilbo’s for almost two years as well. It was strange that I had never met Jude before. The bar was large, but I would have noticed him if I had ever seen him.

“Yes Ma’am I have. Perhaps fate decided tonight was the night for us.” He winked again before taking a sip of his beer prompting me to taste mine. He had hit the nail on the head with his choice. The chocolaty stout filled my senses with warmth and flavor bursting over my tongue like every delicious beer does. It was perfect.

Voices surrounding us began the countdown at 20 yelling out each number like a march toward victory. Jude pulled me in closer and this time I didn’t back away. Not only did I not want to, but something about his smile and the way his eyes flashed as they looked at me made me curious about him so much more. The realization that our kiss would be a mingled taste of stout and chocolate peeked my excitement that much more.
His free hand moved from my waist and drifted up to cup the side of my face as the countdown reached ten. “Hope you are ready for this wild adventure Miss James.”

“I’m not so sure you can handle what’s coming to you Sir Jude.”

His eyes flashed sharply before a wicked smile splashed over his features. “Oh you my dear, have no idea what you just signed up for.”

At the screaming sound of Happy New Year surrounding us, Jude leaned close pulling my lips toward his drowning me with the heat of his breath and the thick smell of wet dog. My mind didn’t quite register the smell, but just as he pulled me but an inch away from his lips his tongue ducked out and licked me full across the side of the face.

“What the…,” I jolted out of the haze losing my balance before I fell butt first to the ground. Shaking my head my eyes strained to part before a wild yip barked in my ear and 22 lbs of puppy pounced on me kissing me with full excitement.
My eyes snapped open immediately to find myself still dressed warmly in my nice cozy red and black flannel pants sprawled out on living room floor after having fallen off the couch.

Every minute of that evening at my favorite bar was a complete and total dream. I had never actually left my apartment, and instead had completely missed the ring of midnight. My little puppy still wild with energy after the loud burst of fireworks from outside my apartment jumped all over me in attempt to lick my face until he was content I’d had enough.

“Looks like you are my New Year’s kiss this year little guy,” I said as a scratched the short hair on his wrinkly head. “Maybe next year I will find my Jude.”

Wrigley barked his affirmation at me before lunging toward my face again. Perhaps this year wasn’t my year for some hot stranger to find me, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t ready for a new year full of surprises.

Lifting my glass of warmed stout to my lips I smiled as I watched the end song of Across the Universe play on my tv. Glancing at the clock I realized I hadn't in fact missed the new year, it was only 10:50. Dashing with the speed of an Olympic runner I ran to my room and ripped out a pair of heels and threw on my silky black dress. I kissed my little pug good night and headed out the door.

Time to go find my Jude.

Psst....I have a confession to make....

I have a confession to make, and really truly confessing these kinds of things are never easy. I feel like this is a safe place though, and I hope that you understand my troubles perhaps you might even have similar issues yourself. You see I have an obsession, and it is not something that I was able to come to terms with to admit easily, but I feel it is a necessity.

My problem: I am obsessed with reading.

I know, I know..."what's wrong with that Jessica?" I think the same thing. I dive into a book with glee and excitement, turn off the outside interference and just live through another world for hours at a time. The problem? Well...I turn myself off to the outer world for days at a time!! I don't just love to read, I become obsessed with the book. I read for 8 hours straight! Take a break? Yeah right, not likely, I power through that novel like my life dependes on it. Why? Because I have a problem. I crave words, knowledge, a new world, people, interaction. I delve into the story with eager anticipation for what will happen next. I am a reader....And I am no longer afraid to admit it. Now what am I going to do about it...the answer. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!!!!

There I said it, I love to read, and I will never stop. I crave the words, the flow of a fresh story, the aches and pains of a new life scribbled over the page with such intensity I just can't seem to stop myself. Of course I do it, I turn the page and devour on.

My sneaky action, I read at work. The phone is ringing of course I answer it. Sure I will help you get such and such, hold on one second...I finish my sentence, grab whatever that Producer needs and I am back to the black and white addiction I crave all day long. I need to go to the bathroom, that is just another place of heaven to catch at least five minutes (ok...ok I take longer than five minutes because there is no way I can put the book down long enough to wash my hands and run back to my chair to read more) of good intense reading.

In a bar, heck yeah I read in a bar!! For some reason people seem to interrupt me more in a bar than at work. "Hey there, whatcha reading?" My normal response, "A book." You would think they would leave me to my obsession in blissful peace but they don't, the questions continue. Me being the obsessed reader that I am, I blatantly ignore them and finish my page before looking up at them smiling. "Yes it's a very good book." Head back down into the pages, and I'm off again.

Now, I know what my bestie would be thinking by now. "Jessica, if you are so obsessed why haven't you read the second book of Outlander????" (By which I am dying to start....just FYI) And my response...1) I am supposed to be writing, I am super close to finishing the first draft of my Manny! 2) I need a decent quick easy distraction, not a week of nose in the page can't live a normal life obsession which Outlander deserves because it is AMAZING!!!! I read short books, but good ones, one's with great character development that is about four to five hours of reading before I dive back into my writing with a vengeance.

Here is the deal with me, I have a hard core obsession with reading. It not only gives my brain a break, but it also gives me some new verbiage. You learn a lot about vocabulary just reading, no kidding a lot of new words I spew out are directly from that moment reading a book and I come across a word and think..."What the heck does that mean?" So I look it up, and BAM! New world, mind blown, there is a meaning for that word and it's amazing.

So I have a problem, but I am not looking for a healthy dose of intervention, I am sharing my obsession with you because I hope that you too are as fascinated as I am about words, books, reading...and maybe hopefully one day I will give you that delicious slice of heaven when I am able to publish my own black and white pile of words that make up the running story playing over and over in my mind. Thank you friend for listening to my ramble of words...now please, do what I do, and go pick up a book and jump into the amazing wonder of discovering a new world. I am telling you though, be cautious, you might like it, love it, and become as obsessed as I am.
PS....
<----One day I will have a library this epic filled with EVERY BOOK I HAVE EVER READ! Ambitious much, maybe, but I don't care. Some dreams are worth dreaming.