thank you, world, for keeping me busy.

It's funny. I really want to write a blog post but I can't think of anything to talk about. Not because my life is boring or anything, but because I actually have too much going on -- I've been reading a lot of interesting stuff, I've been working a lot, I've been seeing a lot of my friends, I've been watching a lot of The Tudors with them (great show, by the way), I've been drinking coffee and writing a lot... There have been plenty of stories to tell recently, but at the end of each day, it's like I can't decide which one to focus on, like they're all jumping up and down like little kids screaming "pick me! pick me!" in the forefront of my mind, leading me to be totally overwhelmed and unable to focus on an one of them.

I guess I could just briefly mention a few of them. Then if any of you are confused or the allusion piques your interest, you can always comment/email/twitter me for further details.

Firstly, remember how I mentioned that Cyndi and I almost died? Well, later that day, Andy (the boyfriend) called me and I told him about it and his immediate reaction (other than, "I'm glad you're alive") was "Wow, a similar thing happened to me today too." He was going through an intersection and some guy ran his red light and turned left going decently fast. Andy managed to see him and slam on the breaks to save himself , but the car in the lane next to him didn't end up so lucky. The car slammed into the driver's side door and both drivers were taken to a hospital.

Also, my good friend Ryan (from the Renaissance Festival I attended) moved to Missouri a few days ago for an internship. I'm really happy for him because he's happy and this is what he wants to do with his life, but I miss him. And I'm ready for him to come back home.

Last night, I spent a lot of time going through my old myspace messages and blog posts and comments, and I stumbled headfirst into a swirling torrent of forgotten memories. From things like the first guy I was ever in a serious relationship with (who turned out to be a total jerk, by the way), to the first guy I fell in love with and, though I don't miss him, think of him often, to our mutual friends, many of whom I haven't seen in a year or so. I saw pictures of a boy who I should have treated better, if only we'd met at a better time for both of us. I read poetry I'd written throughout close to three years of high school. I found old blog posts that, all though they were vague to outsiders, I still remember every feeling I had burning inside me as I wrote them, whether they were anger, joy, fear, accomplishment, or loss. It was a strange feeling to read and see all those words and pictures and feel like they were me, but not really. Like it was someone else's life I was peeking into. It was intense and it left me feeling confused, overwhelmed, and wondering about old friends. So, I started investigating. I started seeing how many of them still update their myspaces, and I found that an overwhelming amount of them do and all of them have been going through some painful stuff since we last talked. Though not always direct in what they posted (many of my friends and I have always been the subtle type), there were obvious signs of masked pain that was churning just below the surface of their smiles. But the posts that were direct, that confronted their pain up front were some of the most raw emotional things I've read in my life. I wish I could reach out and give all of them a hug, but we're all far flung across the nation these days and my arms don't reach that far.

One of my friends started doing this in her posts, and I think I want to as well --
Five things I'm happy for today
1. Skype
2. My job
3. Starbucks
4. Good friends
5. Fast cars to get me to work on time