Tell Me a Secret Part 5

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Love you.
Mean it.

Alone

"Alone. Yes, that's the key word, the most awful word in the English tongue. Murder doesn't hold a candle to it and hell is only a poor synonym."

-Stephen King

I've been watching a lot of Doctor Who lately. It's a great show. In a single episode, I have cried, laughed, worried, and cheered. If a show can make you do all of that in just 42 minutes, that's damn fine television. 

One thing that's kind of like a theme throughout the show is the idea of being alone. The Doctor is the last of his kind, the last of the Time Lords. He watched his planet and all of his people burn. Now it's just him, traveling through space and time alone. Yes, he picks up companions that travel with him but they all go. Rose, Martha, Sarah Jane, they all have to leave him. He doesn't want to be alone. But in the end, he is. There's such tragedy and anguish in the Doctor because he knows he is alone. It breaks my heart every time I watch it. 

The funny thing is I've been watching so much Doctor Who lately because I am alone. School's done for now and the Review staff doesn't meet very regularly anymore. I've tried to get together with some friends but the truth of the matter is I don't have many here, close ones anyway. And when you only have maybe three or four chances of going out and doing something, chances are they are already busy with something. And I don't blame them. They're living their lives. How could I be mad about that? Just leaves me alone a lot. 

I mean, I am trying to get used to the idea, of being alone. But I don't think I ever will. And, quite honestly, I don't think I want to. Even though it hurts worse than anything I've ever experienced, even though it leaves me wanting to cry, even though I know I can't take it much longer, I never want to get used to it. I don't care if the pain, the despair, the depression would go away if I did. It's not worth it. 

And yes, being alone is the worst thing in existence. But going through all that pain is worth it when you find someone and you aren't alone anymore. Having someone with you, someone to not only listen to you and talk to, but just to do things with, to help give your days purpose, there's nothing better in the universe. I should know. Cause right now all I've got are memories of times when I wasn't alone. They're some of the sweetest memories I have. And I know that it'll happen again. And I know it's against my nature to be optimistic. I'm more inclined to cynicism. But if there's one thing I hope for, that I believe in, it's that I'm not going to be alone forever. 

Love you.

Mean it. 

Melanoma Awareness Month: I've Been Lucky

I've been lucky. I've had 6 moles removed and only 2 of them were cancerous. And they were the kind you could just "cut out" and be fine. Skin cancer runs rampant in my family so we were raised to be hyper-vigilent. We'd have yearly check ups with our dermatologist. We had a record of all the moles on our bodies. We check to see if they changed shape, color, or size. My mom would slather us with sunscreen anytime we were going to be outside for long periods of time. I always thought it was super annoying since I'm already a very fair girl. I was never going to get that "bronze babe" look if I wore sunscreen.

I've been really lucky. I've had some nasty sunburns in my time. But I learned young enough the dangers of getting sunburned, especially with my lousy family history. Me trying to get that perfect summer glow could result in something dangerous or even deadly. And, frankly, I just don't care enough to risk it. So yeah, I could be considered ghostly pale by pretty much everyone. But I'd rather be ghostly pale than a ghost.

I've been lucky. I've lived my whole life knowing about skin cancer and knowing what to look for. Others aren't so lucky. So please, if you're reading this, get to know your skin. Lock yourself in the bathroom, strip down and look at your skin. Check your back in the mirror. Check the back of your neck. Write down any and all moles, their size, shape, and color. Get dressed and have a friend or family member check for moles around your hairline or in your hair itself (you can get them there. I had one for years that looked like a Mickey Mouse icon.) Write them all down. Date that piece of paper and keep it safe. Recheck yourself every month. It seriously takes 10 minutes. That's less time than it takes to check your email, Facebook, blogs, etc.

If you find any moles that are asymmetrical (meaning they're not perfectly round), that are an unusual color or multi-colored, that are raised up from the rest of your skin, are larger than normal, or just don't look right, go to a doctor and have him check them out. I know it's a pain in the ass. But would you rather find out too late?

Be careful out there, friends. I've been lucky, yes. But some of you may not be so.

Love you.
Mean it.

#18: What was the best day of your life?

October 16th, 2010.

I was at my friend Jon's apartment. He and I were siting in the living room, along with his brother, Michael, and his two other roommates, Martin & Justin. We weren't doing anything, really. We may have watched a movie earlier but the t.v. was off now. We were just talking. I don't even really remember about what but I remember that it was more personal than any previous conversations we had ever had (meaning, that all five of us had had together. Jon and I had talked personally before but only when it was just us two).

I remember being really comfortable, relaxed. There was this feeling of security that I hadn't felt in a long time. And then it hit me. It was the same feeling I used to get when I'd hang out with everyone at Sean's house back in Cedar City, that sense of trust and belonging, I never realized how much I missed it. I honestly thought I'd never feel that way again, I'd never feel like I belonged. And there I was, feeling like was finally home.

It was the best day of my life because I knew I was going to be okay. Even though I had lost everything when I moved back home, there was a good chance I could find it again.

Love you.
Mean it.

This Isn't Fate

[This is the finished product that was started back in November. You can read that part here.]

No, I don’t believe in fate.

The idea that I’m not in control of my life is unsettling so I choose not to believe it.

Some people believe that everything happens for a reason, that whatever happened was meant to happen. I think that is bullshit. There are too many variables in life for everything to have a reason for happening. Sometimes stuff happens for no goddamn good reason.

There was this one summer night years ago in Provo. It was the first time I was ever really bold. My two friends and I went to see my one friend’s brother’s band play at a local eatery. The guitarist was cute and I was feeling invincible. I took out a business card I had made one night when I was bored. I wrote the guitarist’s name and then something clever on the back and dropped it in the open guitar case with a few bucks. Then I walked out as cool as I could.

He called me later that night. We had a nice talk. My phone got crappy service in my bedroom so I wandered outside in my front yard. We talked and got to know each other. We found out he had graduated with my brother and he pretty much hated his guts. We bonded over those mutual feelings. He asked me out and we planned on that Friday.

It wasn’t the worst date in my life. That honor goes to a blind date who got arrested for fighting in a parking lot at Trafalga. But it was still rather lousy. I mean, the date was fine but he took me home 40 minutes after he picked me up. He made some bullshit excuse about having to work early the next morning. I never heard from him again. I felt stupid and insecure. He couldn’t even last an hour before he lost interest in me. I quickly tried to forget that night and for a few years, I succeeded.

Flash forward a few years. I am again living in Provo after going to school in Cedar City for about four years. I am confident, independent, and completely depressed. I was having a rough go at finding my place in Provo. But I started writing for the Review, a choice that might have saved my life in the long run. My editor was a nice attractive guy. One day, in the halls of the LA building, we stood chatting about how small the world is in Utah County. We discovered we both went to Timpview High. When he said what year he graduated, I said my brother graduated that year. He asked my brother’s name and I told him. Suddenly, we exchanged looks of recognition. This was him, the guy whom I tried so hard to forget, the guy who had embarrassed me with a 40 minute date. We both knew who each other were and there was no going back. After what seemed like forever, he finally said, “I know you.” I said something back, but what it was is forgotten. I made an excuse to leave and did so quickly.

Why did it have to be him? Of all the people that I could have been forced to reconnect with, why him? Just thinking back to that stupid night years previously made me feel stupid, depressed, insignificant, insecure, and lonely all over again. Why did I have to re-meet him? He could have stayed just an unpleasant memory and never thought of again.


No, I don’t believe in fate.
But sometimes, I think God can be an asshole.

Love you.
Mean it.

Wishful Thinking

Last night I had a dream
where all the people of my past came together
to wish me well.
I walked into a room of memories
and was greeted by smiles and winks.
I ran to old friends,
we hugged and cried,
just so happy to see each other again.
And not a single smile was insincere
and nobody looked at their watch
hoping they could sneak out the back.
And for once, my past & my memories
wanted me to move on and be happy.
And then I woke up.

Don't Have Much Time

If I'm noticed only when I talk,
I'm going to keep silent for awhile.
Cause, yeah, everyone wants connection
but I'm done feeling like you're doing me a favor.

And don't go telling me that biting my nails is a bad habit
after you finish a long pull on your Malboro

Cause we don't have much time in this stupid little room
on this stupid little planet.
And I may not know what's coming next
but it might not be better
than what we have now.