You know me, I love a good story.

Everyone has stories. A person's life is made up of a series of stories, some joyful, some hilarious, some ironic, some tragic. Some of these stories we tell to a group of friends with comedic precision. Others we keep secret, silent, shared only in the dark, between the sheets. It's these stories that make us human, that help us to connect with others. It's through the exchange of stories we know we're not alone.

Sometimes, all we know about other people comes from the stories others tell about them.  I never knew my granddad. He died when I was a year old. All I know about  Bennion Rhead Cannon comes from stories my family has told over and over. All I have are the stories.

There is a time in my life that I try not to think about. Even though it spanned four years, I avoid thinking about any moment from then because when that time ended, it ended horrifically, painfully. Now when I think back to that time, it brings a terrible mixture of sorrow and happiness.

But lately, I've been thinking about moments, of stories from that time that weren't bad, that were actually quite lovely. Like when I spent the night with Josh and we took shots of rum out of wine glasses. Or when Sean and I would go shooting together. Or when I spent Easter weekend with Sage's family. Or when Brian and I stayed up all night talking about philosophy. Or watching Pan's Labyrinth with Gus. Or any memory with Gus. Those were all wonderful times. Those are all wonderful stories.

The span of those four years is itself one giant story, one with a tragic ending. But individual chapters or even small paragraphs are good stories, wonderful stories, stories worth remembering.

I can't let the overall bad ending make me forget the good stories in between.

Love you.
Mean it.

My Scarlet Letter

I did it. I finally got my tattoo. I've been planning on doing this for a few years now. I've even referenced it in one of my poems (titled Pride in Myself, which you can read here). I was originally going to get it (as the poem suggests) on my back shoulder but I switched to my right wrist. I figured if I was going to get something so significant to me permanently placed on my body, I wanted to be able to see it daily. 

A lot of people have been asking me about the meaning behind my tattoo. For starters, it's a scarlet letter. The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne is one of my favorite novels ever. It's beautiful, tragic, devastating, and sincerely hopeful. I just love it. 

My scarlet letter stands for Proud. That is my sin. Only I don't really view it as a sin. Let me explain. 

I've spent the majority of my life hating myself. I hated my life and often wished I didn't exist. It took me years of hard struggling to finally get to where I am today. I love myself, I love my life, and everything in my life. The only trouble is now people accuse me of being prideful, of thinking too highly of myself. To that, all I can say is they have no idea how long it took and how hard it was for me to get to this point where I love myself. If that means I'm proud, then I'll wear my scarlet sin for the world to see. 

I couldn't be happier with my tattoo. Every time I look at it, I want to giggle with giddiness. I feel free, liberated. This summer I had four goals I wanted to accomplish. With a week left of summer, I'm glad I accomplished one of them.

Love you.

Mean it. 

Long Nights

I can remember long nights talking to you. It's how we ended each day.
Whoever went to bed first called or texted the other to say goodnight.
I'd try to remember your smell as I struggled to stay awake so I could talk to you for just a bit longer.
I remember you making me laugh in the darkness, even though we were hundreds of miles away.
I don't remember what we talked about. It was probably mostly about nothing.
But I guess, in the end, it didn't matter.
Because all of those conversations about nothing "meant more to me than so many somethings."
I remember those long nights, falling asleep to your voice.

Not everything that happened between us was bad.

Love you.
Mean it.

I'll See You When I See You

You see, the funny thing about growing older is you become more aware of the differences between things that are real and things that are just nice ideas. The biggest example in my life seems to be constantly happening.

People come into our lives for an indiscriminate amount of time. These people can be coworkers, classmates, casual acquaintances, or whatever. They have an effect on you. It may be small, so small you don't even really notice it. But everyone who comes into our lives affects it somehow.

Sometimes these people have a huge effect on us. Sometimes, just sometimes, these people who were once strangers become one of the most important aspects of our lives. Those moments are rare but they are beautiful.

But then, these people, as all people must, leave for some other destination. It may be they're done with school. They may have a better job offer somewhere else. Sometimes people just grow apart.

What makes these moments so difficult as an adult is you recognize the very sincere possibility you may never see each other again. As kids, we were always making vows that you'd be best friends forever, that you'd always stay in touch, that nothing could keep you apart. I remember promising this to a few best friends. I can't remember the last time we spoke. I don't know what's going on in their lives any more. I don't know where they are. I don't know if they're still alive.

As adults, we know people leave and we know sometimes they never come back. When they do leave, they do so without any pretense that we will see each other again. We hope we do but we know it's just not probable. The best we can hope for is expressed in a line we tell each other as we part: "I'll see you when I see you."

That line holds so much pain to me. It expresses the childlike desire to keep our friends close to us coupled with the cynicism and realism of adulthood. It's an ugly line, without hope.

These people were strangers one moment, then they transformed into something so important to us, and then the next moment they're nothing but a memory. I really wish it wasn't this way. I wish saying goodbye and the hopeless "I'll see you when I see you" wasn't apart of growing up. But it is.

When we were young, the idea that you will see each other again made the departure less painful. Now, as adults, we don't have any such lies to comfort us. We know that everyone leaves and very rarely do they ever come back.

Love you.
Mean it.

Cause That's What Friends Do

Recently this scene from The Town was played at the GOP Caucus meeting for some random reason. While it may have something to do with the recent debt crisis, I'm going to use it to illustrate another point. This scene, to me, is the epitome of true friendship. No questions. No objections. Just simple loyalty.

I've mentioned my thoughts on friendship before. Essentially, when I consider you my friend, it comes with a fierce loyalty and an unwavering trust. It's just how friendship works in my mind.

Over the past week, I've had some kind of interesting experiences that bring my definition of friendship into light. First I had a friend tell me she thought she was pregnant. I dropped everything, drove over to her place, picked her up, drove to a store, bought a pregnancy test, and drove her back to her house. Luckily it was just a false alarm. Once I knew she was okay and we hung out a bit, I realized I had a million and one things to get done and now only little time to do it. All of the stresses in my life suddenly became less important after hearing she needed help.

And then yesterday, I was talking to a dear friend of mine who told me he needed $100 in order to pay his phone bill. I told him I could loan him the money and five minutes later, we're at an ATM. Again, whether or not I might need this money never crossed my mind. All I knew was he needed help.

I'm not telling these stories to brag or to make myself look good. In fact, many could argue that these examples prove what a sucker I could be. But these examples show exactly what being a friend means to me. No questions. No objections. Just simple loyalty.

If someone were to ask me why I did either of those things, my response would be the same,

"Cause that's what friends do."

Love you.
Mean it.

Liberated Woman

I start today's post off with this clever protest sign because that perfectly describes my feelings towards the topic I'm about to discuss. Or, rather, "I can't believe we still have to deal with this shit."

A few weeks ago, I was called "cheap and easy." The guy who hurled these hurtful words (I have written about this asshole before) meant them in all honesty. Why he called me them is unknown but I will say that he and I have fooled around on occasion over the last few months (this does not excuse his behavior in the least but does provide you dear & faithful readers some context).

While I was personally hurt by such unkind words, I was even more furious that in this day & age we are still resorting to classifying women in these terms. The guy in question will basically stick it in anything with a pulse. I, on the other hand, have only fooled around with guys. I am still a virgin and am likely to remain so for a bit longer. Sidenote: I have no problems with sex, nor do I put the act up on a pedestal. However, I do not see the point in "losing it" just to lose it. If and when I lose my virginity, it will be with someone I care about and whom I trust. This is my own personal decision and I don't need to explain a goddamn thing. For him, a sexually promiscuous man, to call me, a woman who is still a virgin, cheap & easy is so ironic it's disgusting.

Why do we still have such ridiculous double standards in our society? When a man goes about sleeping with various women, he's regarded as a hero. If a woman does the same, she's regarded as a trashy whore. I do not understand this in the least.

I have referred to myself as a liberated woman on several occasions. While most people snicker at such a term, I know hardly any of them understand what I mean by it. I know other women who also use the term and who also receive the same reactions, laughter with an undertone of ignorance. This needs to stop. So here it is, what it means to be a liberated woman.

As liberated women, we do not accept the expectations that our patriarchal society has placed upon us as women. We do not accept the double standard placed upon us as women when it comes to sexuality. It is our choice and our choice alone who we sleep with and how often we do it. These choices are our own goddamn business and no one else's. We are in control of our own bodies and our own sexuality. We reject all labels and terms that are derogatory in nature when it comes to our sexuality. We are proud of our sexuality and do not feel ashamed to discuss it openly with those interested in hearing it. It is our choice. It has always been our choice. It will always remain our choice.

If you don't like it, deal with it.

Love you.
Mean it.

As Heard in the Newsroom, Part 5

Part 4
Part 3
Part 2
Part 1

Last year [Jake] got his appendix out.
That happened.
-Andrea Whatcott & Jake Buntjer

I think you should make it bigger.
Isn’t that what they all say?
-Celeste Rosenlof & Elyse Taylor

I thought you undid her bra.
I don’t know how.
-Celeste Rosenlof & Sterling Gray

Let’s objectify this woman.
-Elyse Taylor

Or she’s being Michael Jackson, which is awesome for a two year old.
-Elyse Taylor

I hate the shit you like.
-Gilby Cisneros

People like to look at pretty women.
I know I do.
-Gilby Cisneros & Elyse Taylor

Can I call you John? 

No, you cannot. Fuck you.
-Gilby Cisneros & John-Ross Boyce

Hey, that zucchini spoke for itself.
-Jake Buntjer

Can you turn that off? My anxiety levels just rose 20 points.
-Jake Buntjer about punk music

I figured it was one guy wrestling eight girls. That’s awesome.
-Jarom Moore

Gilbert, sorry about the F-you but seriously, you can’t call me John.
-John-Ross Boyce

You’ve got to move the mouse, kids. Otherwise you get serial killers.
-John-Ross Boyce

You don’t shoot people in the face. That’s popularity 101.
-John-Ross Boyce

I’m turning 29 in October. I don’t have time to look to the past. It’s only the future from now on.
-John-Ross Bocye

You go, you fabulous little man.
-John-Ross Boyce

All I know about golf comes from Happy Gilmore & Caddyshack.
-John-Ross Boyce

I’m like the Typhoid Mary of clinical depression.
-John-Ross Boyce

Carly’s not a dick though.
Thank you.
-John-Ross Boyce & Carly Montgomery

Cause I’m ladylike, damnit!
-Kelly Cannon

Could you stop imagining me as some KFC slut?
-Kelly Cannon

I am not making fun of the army. I’m making fun of my friends who happen to be in the army.
-Kelly Cannon

A ‘Come to Jesus’ about Weezer?
No, a ‘Come to Jesus’ about priorities.
-Kelly Cannon & John-Ross Boyce

There are worse things to be called.
Yeah, like slut.
-Kelly Cannon & Sterling Gray

And that’s Andrea [Whatcott], dictator for life.
-Matt Peterson

I’m in my own cocoon of athletic happiness.
-Matt Peterson

We’ll bond, violent style.
-Matt Peterson

That sudden death was quick. It was sudden, if you will.
-Matt Peterson

Have you ever seen me play Call of Duty? You’d understand my approach to romance much more if you did.
-Nate Evans

Based on [the] Him vs. Her [column], I think you approach romance like a picnic while I approach it like guerilla warfare.
-Nate Evans

Slap him on the tush!
Does he have one?
-Parker Donat & Andrea Whatcott about Tom Larsen

Can you say pineapple in Spanish? Do you know what Spanish is?
-Sterling Gray to Andrea’s 2 year old

Love you.

Mean it.