the chat i had with my mother before she left this evening to dine with my father and their friends. the drive into my subdivision at dusk this time of year. the compliment a server paid me; i don't remember the words, but they were incredibly kind observations of my character, and i almost cried because the beauty of that kindness was so welcome in that moment. one of my managers got me giggling after a long string of trying customers... too many instances of my not being able to satisfy, of disappointing and being disappointed, and somehow she got me giggling. she's very good at that. the smile on a friend's face when i dropped by with a gift. peter dinklage in game of thrones; he's pretty incredible. ansel elgort didn't ruin augustus waters; i was so certain he would. the lovely, lovely child i met today at work, and the kindness his mother bestowed upon me. my five-year-old nephew's voicemail: wub, i'm fine. i had a pleasant enough day at work. i spent the day watching game of thrones: resting while watching a great story is a wonderful thing. the gift i received from a fellow blogger: a pack of tul pens (just like i like'm) and b&n gift card. i've managed to get really great parking places at the mall on the first try two days in a row. quality time with my mother followed by dinner at home with the family. one of my coworkers, who's on maternity leave, picked up a shift for another yesterday; it was nice to see her again... it was also nice not to have to get up at six a.m. and work a long day, which i would've had to do had she not picked up. the elder lannister brother rescued the younger brother from prison; the younger learned of his lover's deceit (i KNEW she was bad!), then killed his father in the privy... go tyrion. the hug alex gave me. i enjoyed working with a particular manager; that doesn't happen often. lunch and window shopping with my father. i ended my day at work with a really good sale. a quiet house. the chat i had with one of the managers. breakfast with my father. the hug my nephew gave me. english muffins. dinner and window shopping with a friend. visiting with a sweet, sweet lady at b&n's cafe. playing i spy with my nephew. my store manager's smiling face at the start of my shift. mi cocina's queso blanco. no cavities!

this could be the last time... also knowns as "monks? monks live in utah?"

yes. yes, they do. on some of the finest land in the country.

i've posted most (if not all) of these images before. i won't have new ones for you for a couple of weeks. we leave on wednesday for what will most likely be the last time we ever go. my munkle is very old. and there are only ten monks left at the monastery. one by one, they're leaving--either because the body fails them or they've chosen to live elsewhere. 

this one'll have to close. there's not enough to sustain it. i hate like hell this has to happen. soon, much too soon this beautiful land will be turned into another cookie-cutter neighborhood. hundreds and hundreds of cheap homes on teeny tiny lots. i can't bear to think of it.

so here. look on this glory with me a little while longer.

my cousins, my brother, my mother, me, the monk and another cousin.

my aunt's brother, my brothers, my cousins and my munkle's red truck.
i miss that thing. i miss those days.

songs that start with the letter i: a not-so-random sample

one. i alone. live. throwing copper.

two. i am. train's self-titled album.

three. i choose. the offspring. ixnay on the hombre.

four. i dare you to move. switchfoot. learning to breathe.

five. i do. abra moore. everything changed.

six. i don't believe in love. queensryche. operation mindcrime.

seven. i drove all night. cyndia lauper. the essential cyndi lauper.

eight. i got id. pearl jam. merkin ball.

nine. i miss you. blink-182's self-titled album.

ten. i will not take these things for granted. toad the wet sprocket. fear.

eleven. i won't let you go. snow patrol. divergent (original motion picture soundtrack).

twelve. i'll stand by you. the pretenders. last of the independents.

thirteen. if i can dream. elvis presley. memories: the '68 comeback special.

fourteen. if you're gone. matchbox twenty. mad season.

fifteen. (if you're wondering if i want you to) i want you to. weezer. raditude.

sixteen. in 'n' out. van halen. for unlawful carnal knowledge.

seventeen. in my place. coldplay. a rush of blood to the head.

eighteen. in the end. linkin park. hybrid theory.

nineteen. in this life. chantal kreviazuk. what if it all means something.

twenty. in your eyes. peter gabriel. so.

twenty-one. in your room. depeche mode. the singles 86>98.

twenty-two. innocence. the airborne toxic event's self-titled album.

twenty-three. invisible city. the wallflowers. bringing down the horse.

twenty-four. iris. goo goo dolls. dizzy up the girl.

twenty-five. is it any wonder. keane. under the iron sea.

fifty different reasons

six weeks or so ago, i wrote a post called fifty reasons to live. i reread it a lot, especially when i'm sad and lost and lonely and tired and... like today. today was not a good day. nothing happened to make it bad. nothing has to. that's why it's bad. because... nothing. i feel like a nothing. i've accomplished nothing. and i've no desire to do anything. i have more days like today than not. this is what depression looks like for me. fifty reasons to want it over. done. the end. this is the bullshit i battle in my brain on what seems to be a daily basis. the good news is, this time it was a helluva lot harder to come up with the fifty.

one. because they said you couldn't.
two. because they said you shouldn't.
three. because they said you wouldn't.
four. because you crawl into an empty bed. every. night. in your parents' house because you can't afford your own.
five. cupcakes. sure. because you need another five pounds on your ass. go ahead. eat.
six. you think you have friends. hahahah. no, you don't. how many of them actually give a shit about you? isn't that why you spend so much time at pappadeaux's? you're not writing. you've not written anything in weeks. you just sit there, running your mouth, wasting your money and annoying the servers.
seven. the scars. those doctors, they've made you so pretty.
eight. not that you were pretty in the beginning. and all you did was cry. all the damned time.
nine. yeah. daddy. you treat him like crap. and it's always take... take... take.
ten. and mama. you think your mother's a saint. and she is for putting up with you all these years. you're a spawn. a spore. you're nothing like her. you're no lady. you've no class. no grace. you're too selfish and bitchy and needy...

eleven. films. that's all you ever wanna do. watch movies. you'd spend the rest of your pathetic life in bed, watching movies. because you're too afraid to live. you'll never write a story so good someone will feel compelled to show it on a screen.
twelve. there's those things your peers... those people who can manage to make friends and live good lives... they said things like this: you should go kill yourself because the world would be better off without you in it. you should've listened.
thirteen. poetry? everything you write is crap. no one's ever gonna wanna read it. your poems are too prosaic. remember? your creative writing professor told you that.
fourteen. star wars sheets. what? are you twelve? geek.
fifteen. pappadeaux's. amy's right, you know. they're only nice to you because they have to be.
sixteen. literature. if you're not watching a movie, you're reading a book. because being stuck in your life is such a hell. and the only way you know to escape it is to get lost in some stupid story.
seventeen. you're taking up valuable air and space, and there are more important people who need it.
eighteen. minn was only nice to you because she felt sorry for you.
nineteen. shazam...
twenty. and bambam... they're getting older. wiser. they won't love you quite so easily when they see who you really are. you'll hurt them.

twenty-one. you quit smoking? why the hell did you bother with that? you want a short life, right? doesn't quitting just make it last longer?
two. your teachers... how many of them hated teaching you? i bet it was a lot.
three. stupid.
four. ugly.
five. worthless.
six. like school did you any good anyway. all that money your grandmother and great aunt left you, so you could have a fine education. and you squandered it.
seven. you're so fat. it's so disgusting. lazy bitch.
eight. and your teeth. gross.
nine. your face, though. that's the worst. no amount of make-up will make that thing pretty. it won't matter how many times you stare in the mirror and how many different ways. that glass is gonna show the same cross-eyed, freckled, scarred shit.
thirty. everything bugs you. remember? your brother's friend the other day started rattling off a list. he only stopped because you interrupted him.

thirty-one. every night... just so you can sleep, you've gotta pop some pills. there's so much ugliness in you the only way you can silence it is to drug it. how sad.
two. and then there're the things you'd overheard: i'm only nice to her because she gives me gum.
three. you like giving things to people don't you? makes you feel better about yourself? they're just things. and you're trying to buy affection. just like when you were a kid.
four. phineas. how many cars is that now? six cars you've wrecked. and you love that car? sure looks it, what with all the scrapes on the exterior, the gashes in the seat, the patches in the carpet... yeah. you love that car. i can tell.
five. your own brother doesn't even wanna spend time with you. but that's okay. you don't much wanna spend time with him, either.
six. you're too much like a boy. don't even know how to be a girl, do you?
seven. but that's okay. the boys don't want to get their hands on you anymore. not that they ever really did. you were just convenient. and lonely. and easy. or so they thought.
eight. but you can't even do that right, can you? so eager to play. til you get to a certain point. and then you balk. and walk. every time.
nine. when's the last time you did something good--really good--for anyone?
forty. you talk too much. no one wants to hear the words coming out of your mouth. no one cares.

forty-one. you've been at that job of yours for almost four years. how many people have been hired and promoted since then? some of those gals got promoted to management in six months' time. and look at you. still struggling. how long do you think they're gonna let you do that? move up, or move out, jenny. pretty soon, it's gonna be out.
two. and look at you. you've never held a job for more than four years. ever. that's pretty pathetic.
three. no one wants you here. not really.
four. god knows your parents would be better off. they could actually enjoy retirement instead of having to support their stupid, lazy daughter.
five. no one will ever wanna marry you because you're too ugly, and no one wants to wake up next to something that ugly every morning.
six. laughter. really? have you forgotten how often, how loudly and how gleefully they laughed at you?
seven. no one gives a shit about any stories you have to tell.
eight. if you die? because you call this living? they've already won, silly girl. they won a long time ago.
nine. your brother can't because he was weak. you're just like him. in all the wrong ways.
fifty. that promise? you signed a piece of paper twenty years ago. that doctor who made you sign it? he's probably forgotten all about you. so many will...

so... there. i took my benadryl. i'll brush my teeth and crawl in bed, and read or watch a movie until i can't stay awake anymore. and to counter all this ugliness, there's number fourteen from that happier list:

at the end of the day, you get to crawl into your supremely comfortable bed dressed in its star wars sheets and sleep knowing that you made it one more day. that you hung in there. that even if you hadn't accomplished anything else in your day, you did that. and that was enough.

yeah. star wars sheets. return of the jedi to be exact. and they are badass. i love them.