reminders of another time

Being home (and slightly bored) for the holidays, I decided to rummage through the crap I've got laying around this place. I wouldn't have guessed I could entertain myself for an evening simply by shredding old bank statements and looking through old photos. And I'm not talking about the digital kind. Old school glossy paper prints from celluloid film! I'd forgotten all about these photos - my baby brother playing basketball with his long curly hair, the last shots of one hot ex-boyfriend, a going-away-to-Cali party for my best friend, and black and white ones from one of the best days I've ever had. I was delighted by the times I'd not thought of for years. Ironically, old school photos are not for the digital world. Instead, I give you random digitals from my computer library.

A post-it note doodle of a slightly intoxicated friend. There's the three of us... surrounded by booze and science.

From the time I ran down the beach toward the water and stepped on a rotting fish carcass buried in the sand. At the time I was 90% certain my foot was going to rot off.

I lived in a small town in Maryland one summer and the neighbors had two plastic geese in their front yard. On rainy days they'd be wearing rain gear. On sunny days they'd sport bathing suits and sun hats. And when someone was getting married, the geese would renew their vows.

A Story Begins: My Mantra

I've been sitting on an idea for a story for several months now. A fantasy story involving magic. Evil. Maybe some pirates. You know, all the good stuff. But I'm having the worst time coming up with an antagonist. One of the things I'd intended to do with this blog was to practice writing and hopefully come up with a conflict and a solid story line.

And then I had another idea. I never would have guessed I would be writing "chick lit," but this story was begging to be written. You may or may not find events that sound familiar - it pulls from experiences of my own and from a few other reoccuring characters in my own story. But it's mostly fictional, especially the third installment. I'll post installments (perhaps weekly) in the category "CMT".


I, Cassandra Maxine Twitty, do so solemnly swear not to whore myself out to the men of the world via the virtual incubus otherwise known as internet dating.

Six months ago that was my mantra. If you had super psychic hearing much like the cop on Heroes, you would have heard my inner monologue, continuously chanting those very words.

On the yoga mat. "I, Cassandra Maxine Twitty, do so solemnly swear not to whore...."

While munching down Lucky Charms. "I, Cassandra Maxine Twitty, do so solemnly swear...."

Even during my favorite show. "I, Cassandra Maxine Twitty...."

Okay, not really. It was more a subconscious thought, always in the back of my mind. An unspoken promise to myself not to take that desperate a step, one that would surely and utterly play out badly, only to leave me in a state of pure blown spinsterhood.

I'd had friends who'd done it and it did not go well for them. Poor Janet spent three months getting amazing emails from amazing guys and never met a soul. Because those amazing souls turned out to be just one damned one - her deservedly ex-husband. And Katie went out with this guy three times before she realized why he didn't talk much. At first she thought him of the troubled mysterious type when really he was hiding the fact he had no teeth. And no aspirations of getting any. Teeth or sex for that matter. Because clearly the lack of one was not helping him with the other.

I was not that desperate. I did not need such a whoring instrument like the internet. I was perfectly capable of whoring myself, thank you very much.

That was six months ago. Before I met Derek. Before I met Pete. And before I met Shawn.

Six months ago, I was not desperate enough. I am now. Today is the day I take that final step, the one I am certain will lead to my demise as a respectable single woman and begin the cat lady transformation. Today I expand my whoring capabilities.

"Welcome to Meet-A-Mate.com!!"

Oh good. At least my pimp is polite. Maybe this will go well after all.

My Inaugural Address

I begin with a song:

On the Radio, Regina Spektor

"This is how it works: It feels a little worse than when we drove our hearse right through that screaming crowd, while laughing up a storm until we were just bone, until it got so warm that none of us could sleep, and all the styrofoam began to melt away. We tried to find some words to aid in the decay, but none of them were home inside their catacomb. A million ancient bees began to sting our knees, while we were on our knees praying that disease would leave the ones we love and never come again.

On the radio, we heard November Rain. That solo's really long, but it's a pretty song. We listened to it twice 'cause the DJ was asleep.

This is how it works: You're young until you're not. You love until you don't. You try until you can't. You laugh until you cry, you cry until you laugh. And everyone must breathe until their dying breath. No, this is how it works: You peer inside yourself. You take the things you like and try to love the things you took. And then you take that love you made and stick it into some. Someone else's heart pumping someone else's blood. And walking arm in arm, you hope it don't get harmed. But even if it does, you'll just do it all again.

And on the radio, you hear November Rain. That solo's awful long, but it's a good refrain. You listen to it twice 'cause the DJ is asleep, on the radio."

Mixed cds over the past decade have not been safe from the inclusion of the song Pig by Dave Matthews Band. "Isn't it strange how we move our lives for another day..." It has inspired me over the years to pick up my dragging blistered feet and take action. Life is for living, it's easy to forget. So I'll put aside my angst, my anger, and my boredom for a bit, to collect dust up on a top shelf, amongst the faded movie stubs and tattered grocery receipts. And I'll take a step outside and breathe deep of all the possibilities. That is, of course, until I step in the heaping pile of dog shit laying in wait, left by the beasts who can't help but crap in my path.

I digress.

My point is Regina Spektor has given me a new Pig. From her lyrics, I begin this new endeavor in an effort to breathe until my dying breath. These words are not purposely uplifting. They don't depict a story of what should be if only we seized the day more often. They tell one of what is. A mere observation, this song is. And there is something about the simplicity of its truth that I find inspiring.

And so with this blog, I plan to celebrate those things which make my life worth living by taking the things I love and passing them on to anyone who can appreciate someone else's blood. Little by little (beag air bheag).