The beginning of the end

Well hi folks. Which is pretty much no one.
Today is my last first day of school ever. That is so weird to say. It's like I'm riding a train, and the train is pummeling toward a giant abyss, and for a while it had been going moderately slowly, and then this morning, the conductor kicked it into overdrive and I am just watching the end of the tracks approach and disappear over the edge of a cliff. It's so scary to think that there are only 15 weeks standing between me and the mystery that is my future. I have no idea what's coming next, and that scares me. Thank God for T.J. Maxx--at least I have that guarantee, until I walk away from them. (Knock on wood--with my luck, they will fire me now because I said that).

Anyway, I had two classes this morning, and then I have two others tomorrow afternoon. So far, my classes seem pretty cool.

I'm taking the second installment of Music History, and he's hilarious (and yes, he really does look like House's Dr. Wilson). But he asked for all the non-majors to stop and see him after class, and he let the four of us know that he doesn't assume that non-majors have the same time to devote to this course than majors do, so at the end of the semester, he'll ask us to write our names on a sheet of paper, and we will find our grades magically raised (Basically, he says he tends to give us a full letter grade higher). This is awesome, even though I did great in 263 last semester, because who knows how this will go.

American Literary Landmarks seems great too. The books are American classics, so I'll be able to dig into them with more interest than some of the other texts I've touched.

(Sidenote: There is a girl standing in front of me with a T-Swift RED backpack on--I wanna be best friends.)

Anyway, I'll have to update this tomorrow when I've been to my other classes: Myth and Symbol (with Professor Nez!) and Senior Sem (-gulp-)

EDIT:  So my Tuesday classes were just as interesting as my Monday ones. Myth and Symbol is gonna be awesome. I know next to nothing about Greek mythology, but I'm just stoked to take anther class with Nez.
And Senior Sem...well that class is awkward. It's full of English majors (obviously) but I don't really know any of them, or have any friends in the class. Which sucks--as usual. The workload is a little intense, but not too too bad.

oh man...I still can't believe that it's almost over. damn.

This is an amazing giveaway! Ahhhhh!

I came across this giveaway and thought I'd post, in case anyone is as nail polish obsessed as me.

Nail Freak is giving away the Illamasqua Christmas Duo that was SUPER hard to get on Sephora.com. It was always sold out when I looked, so this is a great giveaway. Go check it out!

Check out her swatches too. They are amazing <3 br="br">

I've never been very good at goodbyes.

We knew it was coming. His body was shutting down, and we knew it was only a matter of time until it gave out altogether. We prepared for it, trying to be positive but knowing that there was nothing left to do but pray that it would come quietly. He was suffering, alone in a hospital room miles and miles from where we were. The hardest part was knowing that it was coming, but not knowing when.

I thought it would be easier, having time to prepare. The last time I lost someone it was a shock, a surprise, a 911 call and a chaotic rush to try and reverse the inevitable. But this...this was slow. It was waiting and wondering, and your heart skipping a beat every time the phone rang, not knowing if that would be the call.

This morning, it finally was. And I learned that no, having time to prepare doesn't make it any easier. And it still doesn't mean you get to say goodbye. Not that I've ever been good at goodbyes. I usually go for "see you later," or "talk to you soon." But I don't get to say that this time. Even if Heaven is real, it's not "see you later." It's "see you in a lifetime." And with all the faith I've been raised to have, that still isn't a guarantee.

All I know right now is that I'll never get another chance to say things I've always meant to say, to ask him if I made him proud. I won't get the chance to study the lines in his face, or the faded ink of his Marine Corp tattoo, or hear stories from his childhood. I won't get to kiss his cheek or smell his aftershave and cigarette smoke combo, or tease him about driving his Cadillac--which he'd never let me do. And I'll never hear him say "I love you" again. And it hurts.

I've been so selfish, telling God that I'm not ready and asking for a little more time. Yesterday, I finally said that it wasn't fair to make him wait just because I wasn't ready to let go. And I know it was the right thing, and I know that this was best for him because it was too painful for him to suffer, but I'm so torn up. And all I want is just one more chance that I can't have because it's too late and I miss him already.

Castle Premiere = Castle Mani

Today is the first Castle Monday of Season 5. This calls for more than just my Castle Monday shirt.

This calls for a Castle Monday manicure!

This is one coat of Dandy Nails “Mighty Fine Print” over one coat of Wet ‘N Wild “Black Creme,” and a ring finger accent newsprint nail over Zoya “Dove.”

I loveloveLOVE "Mighty Fine Print." It's hard to see in this crappy cell phone picture, but it's a sheer-ish black base with tons of red and white micro glitters in it. I think it's my favorite of her indies that I have gotten so far.

And this is the best newsprint nail result I've gotten yet. I used vodka instead of rubbing alcohol, because I didn't have any...it came out so clear. I'm pretty happy with this.

I am SO excited for the premiere tonight. 10pm on ABC. Everyone tune in. It’s gonna be epic.

That awkward moment when you're writing a response paper for a Shakespeare class, and you don't mention the play at all...

...but instead you figure out who you are.

I’ve been thinking a lot about that conversation we had about identity. It’s actually something I’ve thought a lot about before now, too. My best friends are twins. We went to high school together, but it wasn’t until we dormed together at JCC that the three of us became inseparable. I remember sitting and just watching them interact with each other, and wondering what it would be like to have a twin. I even asked them what it was like once, and they told me that it was the best thing in the world to have a built in best friend. When I asked them if it was weird to know there was someone in the world just like them, they looked at me and said “Weird, B? It would be weird to not have each other.” I suppose that for children born without a twin, it is weird to imagine having one just like it is weird for my best friends to imagine living without a twin.

I suppose you’ve noticed I just referred to myself as B. No, it was not a typo. B is my nickname, bestowed upon me in a weird, drawn-out story sort of way. I’ve been Allyson, sometimes Ally or Ally-Rae, and for awhile after an unfortunate 4^th grade spelling accident, Alien (Allyon), but when it comes to my best friends, affectionately known as Cup and Lee, I am B. I think nicknames are an interesting facet of identity, and for me at least, tend to reflect the persona I’m putting on. I’m Allyson when I am in class and most days at work, Ally-Rae with old friends from Chorale, Ally with my family and on days at work when the other Alisons are working, Allyson Rae when I’m writing, and Allyson Rae(!!) when my mother is really angry with me. The name I am called immediately triggers the part I play, whether it is best friend; student; carefree choir member; motivated T.J. Maxx employee; writer; or guilty, trouble-making daughter. All these personas are “me,” but at the same time, none of them really are. Why? Simply because I can’t let every aspect of every persona fuse together into one. I can’t be my best friend’s best friend when I’m wearing my “student” mask, and I can’t be studious while I’m cleaning up after rude customers at work. I can’t cater to my mother’s hopes and dreams for me while I’m out with my friends, and all the time I spend wearing all those different personas leaves very little time to actually be a writer. Actually…the more I think about it now, the more I think that the time I spend being a writer is the closest I can get to being “the real me.” Because when I am writing, nothing is off limits. I can write about the crazy things my best friends say, and the love/hate/love relationship I have with my family, and the crazy customers I deal with at work. I can let out all the elements of those many personalities through words, and I don’t ever have to hide a part of my personality that I don’t want to, the way that I do with other personas. That isn’t to say that writing allows me to be entirely the real me; there are still things I do not reveal in my writing, and that makes my “writer” persona still a persona. But even so, writing is the closest I have come to synthesizing all the elements of every persona into one.

How have I not realized this until right now? I always defined myself as musician first, writer second, but even as a musician I was still playing a role. I was still putting on a costume and conforming to fit into the identity that made me a choir member, or a band member, or a soloist. On stage, I wasn’t allowed to be the daughter or the sister, the best friend or the sales associate. I had to be “musician.” But in writing? In writing I can choose to explore one, or two or all of those personas and synthesize then into something more. And it’s all through words. That is really something.

I wonder if he'll be mad that I didn't mention The Comedy of Errors at all...probably. I'll figure out how to work that in. Maybe.

Avoiding Reading about Beethoven...

This is what I do when homework is not in my vocabulary.

I blog.

I'm going to the English department picnic this afternoon. I wasn't gonna go, but I really wanted to. I just didn't have a ride and I didn't have anyone to ask. I finally caved and asked my mom if I could go, because--let's face it--I have no friends. The few I made last year have graduated, and the people left that I know are people I don't particularly like. So I'm desperately trying to make friends before I graduate.

A girl in my Pop Culture class sent out an e-mail asking someone to ride with her to the field trip Friday. I was going to ride in a school van, but I felt kind of bad for her and I know the area pretty well, so I told her I'd go. That's something I never do. Hell, riding in a van is something I'd never do. I'd usually just ask my mom to take me and pick me up, so I wouldn't be forced into an uncomfortable situation. But life is made up of uncomfortable situations.

It's hit me recently that this is it: my last year of school. Grad school is not in my near future, and in the four+ years I've spent in undergrad--two at JCC and a little over two at Fred--I can count the number of new friends I've made on one hand...maybe two. When I say new, I mean new...people I had never met before graduating high school.

I've never been very good at making friends my own age. I just tend to relate better to professors, teachers...other adults. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I entrust my words to them. I hand them my thought and ideas in typed pages, and freely let them judge me without wondering what the consequences might be. But when it comes to peers in class...all I ever do is consider the consequences. I rarely speak up in class, and when I do...I'm automatically being judged. Or at least, I feel like I am.And it's funny because in reality, it is the professor that does the judging...in the form of a grade. I don't know. I have plenty of acquaintances, sure. People at work, people in class, but...no one I hang out with. No one I can ask for a ride to the picnic.

So I'm trying. I'm trying to be more social. I'm trying to get to know people. That girl who struck up a conversation with me in class, that actually knew what Castle was about, even if she hadn't seen it--I added her on Facebook. Today in Steinberg's class, I actually volunteered an idea, even though it was terrifying to do so. I took a workshop style writing class with a professor I already trust, so that maybe I can learn to trust myself and my ideas with more than just the person wielding the red pen. I'm just desperately hoping that maybe, before it's too late, college will teach me about more than books; maybe, I'll finally learn how to be more than who I am.

Wish me luck.

xoxo
Allyson Rae

I get grumpy when it is hot out.

It's hot. HOT. I'm sticking to everything and everything is sticking to me, and I don't like it. I came upstairs to sit near the English offices because there's like...a breeze right here, and its so comfy...well more comfy than downstairs, sticking to the chairs and tables and myself.

I'm waiting for Lee to text me, because we were supposed to hang out today. I told her days ago that I was free at noon and I'd be on campus, but for some reason, she feels like she needs to ask me the same thing every day...and then be surprised when I say I'm on campus and not at home. How do you want me to get there, apparition? I love her, but sometimes it is so frustrating because I feel like no one ever remembers what I say. Especially when she's the one that suggested picking me up from school in the first place...it means less of a drive for her.

I don't know. I'm just hot and frustrated because I'm hot and I've run out of things to work on because I left my music history book at home because its heavy and I don't particularly feel like walking to the library to use that copy because its HOT and I don't know why it is taking Lee so long to run whatever errands she had to run, and Christ, why couldn't she have just picked me up first and let me go with her, and for that matter, why is it whenever we do things, she always leaves Zachy with her mom or puts him down for a nap or something because I actually like the kid and wouldn't mind hanging out with him too, but its like she feels like I'll care, and I won't. Wow, that was a very long run on sentence. Remind me never to put a sentence like that in an English paper. So here I am, still waiting, and I'm kind of hoping to run into someone who makes me smile, but I don't think that will happen today but who knows and I sound a little like a stalker, but I swear I'm not. I'm also really hungry because all I had today was Peanut butter and jelly because it is the cheapest thing these damn cafes sell, and I've got like 5 dollars to my name. I was hoping I'd be able to pick up my paycheck and put it in my account, but that won't happen today because they closed at 2. How frustrating. -_-

And this guy keeps walking by with the squeakiest shoes and I'm laughing so hard because you can hear him coming long before you see him. hehe.

I suppose I could write some more for my life history through food assignment, but I can't decide what other food to write about...my food life has been so boring. I only had two really distinct stories, but I still haven't met the page requirement yet.

Currently, I'm listening to a conversation between some students and my least favorite professor. I really liked her when I had her, but she never really seemed to like me, and I don't know...she's just been kind of rude when I see her, and it makes me just...not like her. I wish my life were easier.

I'm still waiting on that text.

Anyway, this week has been pretty awesome, and I'm actually enjoying my classes...even the ones I wasn't looking forward to. As long as a professor can make me laugh and keep me engaged, there is still hope for me.

I'm kind of considering going back downstairs because this chair is starting to get uncomfortable, but its still so hottt, and at least up here, there is still a breeze.

TGIF.
Allyson Rae

First Semester of my "Victory Lap" and other things, possibly.

I spent all summer waiting for this. The first three weeks or so were fun, but after two months of T.J. Maxx and arguments with mom, I was so ready to get back to the world of academia. And now, after my first three days of classes, I finally understand the purpose of summer vacation.
Three days, and I'm already stressed.
I registered for 18 credit hours, because after two straight semesters of 12 credits, I was bored out of my skull and ready for a challenge. Turns out...18 credits is a bigger challenge than I needed to take on. So I dropped Black Women Writers (-sadly-) and now I'm settled (but still stressed) at 15.

-insert awkward "a professor just mistook me for someone else" moment here-

Anyway, I finally settled on Music History I, Early Shakespeare, American Popular and Mass Cultures, Romanticism and Music and Advanced Writing I: The Essay. ...heavy and terrifying courseload, but hopefully a lot of fun too.

Music History is already kicking my ass. Not kidding. All this terminology I barely recognize from two+ years ago, heavy reading and TONS of work. But the professor is funny and he keeps you engaged, even when the material is dryer than the bones of the composers we're discussing. (Oh that was a good one--I just impressed myself).

I was not excited at all about Shakespeare. Not even a little. I am not a big fan of his plays, but I needed a major author course and my original choice got changed from 2pm to 8am...no thank you, so here I am. It seems okay so far, but we'll see when I actually get into the reading. -_-

Am. Pop & Mass Cult. is already awesome. Not even kidding. We get to blog about things for a grade, and there is one day that the syllabus simply says "Gilmore Girls." The only thing better would have been "Castle." Oh man. I don't even know how to put my excitement into words.

Romanticism and Music is taught by the same professor that taught my 60s music class a few semesters back. I considered dropping this, but after the first class, I couldn't bring myself to do it. It just sounds so interesting and will be a nice contrast to the dry early music history I'm taking in that other class.

And then there's Advanced Writing. The class I've been most looking forward to this semester. Professor Nez is easily my second favorite professor in the department, following only Prof. Kaplin, and she makes me so excited about writing that we could be writing about music history and I'd still be excited. (Are you noticing a pattern here?) Unfortunately, one of the most annoying girls I've met since coming to Fredonia is in the class, but I'm still excited, because I've learned to tune her out.

All in all, this semester is shaping up to be awesome, even if it is stressful to the max. Hopefully, blogging for 208 will inspire me to start blogging more outside the realm of tumblr--which is still fun and a go-to platform for me, but not really the best place for day to day blogs like this one.

Who knows?

And now I leave you with my cat in a box too tiny for his body:

xoxo
Allyson Rae

Why I love studying English at the State University of New York at Fredonia

The English department at SUNY Fredonia is more than just an academic department for me—it has become a home. I’ve always loved words: the way they can be strung together in an infinite amount of combinations and always mean something new. But for the longest time, I had my heart set on a career in music. Obviously, that plan did not come to fruition, and I spent a year majoring in psychology, just trying to keep myself afloat. When I realized I was miserable and desperately needed a change, I sought out the English department chair for advice. The minute I stepped into her office, the entire atmosphere shifted. I felt more at ease than I had in months, and I knew it was where I belonged. Since changing my major, I’ve been challenged both as a student and as a person, and I’ve made enormous strides toward becoming the person I want to be. Through spirited intellectual debates and challenging research and writing assignments, I’ve found myself growing increasingly passionate about subjects I’d never thought of or thought I’d take an interest in. Of the many assignments I’ve completed, one has changed my life immeasurably. I was given the opportunity to complete a research project of my own design relating to English and literary study in any way. As a die-hard fan of the television series Castle, I chose to focus my assignment on the idea of television being a form of literature, using examples from the series to support my claim. After completing the project, I used social media to catch the attention of Castle series creator Andrew W. Marlowe, who took the time to read my paper and reply through twitter. This seemingly innocuous event garnered attention from not only my immediate supervising professor, but the English department as a whole, as well as the college campus newspaper and PR department. The success of this paper has opened my eyes to the option of going into a field of study relating to literary study and television in some form, which is something I’d never considered—and wouldn’t have without the opportunity to research something I was passionate about. That’s what I love about Fredonia. The professors here really care and take a real interest in their students—both in and out of the classroom—and are constantly going above and beyond to help us succeed. They want us to study what we love and love what we study, and they push us beyond what we think we can do into the realm of the impossible. Without the support and motivation from my professor, I never would have been able to complete the kind of project I did, and having the freedom to choose what I really wanted to talk about allowed me to actually be excited about the things I was researching. While my future career is still a mystery, every day I’m finding more and more doors being opened to new and exciting possibilities.

This scholarship is sponsored by CenturyLinkQuote.com.

April 3rd

From my 365 day writing project, A Year's Worth of Words (allysonraewrites.tumblr.com)

I remember the cracks and pops of his bones as they
settled into their rightful place with the stretch of his tired limbs,
the aching muscles protesting with the first movement of the morning.
A moan of satisfaction pouring from deep within his throat
and washing over me with the sweetness and slickness of honey, dripping
from the top of the smiling bear’s head. Settling back against the pillows,
still warm from the heat of his body, he’d sigh and reach for me,
tangling the unkempt strands of hair around his fingers, while he
thought I still slept soundly beside him.

He should have known better; the absence of my soft snoring—which
I still insist is merely fabrication—his first clue to my state of wakefulness,
but if he did know, he didn’t show it. I’d feel his fingers as they
caressed my scalp, before slowly sliding free from the tawny
locks of silk and sweat and tracing his fingertips along the curve of my
spine, playing each vertebrae like the bells of a xylophone.

When I’d finally turn to face him, his gaze would lock with mine,
a heaven of milk  chocolate encased beneath those eyelashes, and for
a moment I felt like that greedy Augustus Gloop, hopelessly drowning in
a river of the sweetest chocolate on Earth. And maybe I was, only
I was greedy for his kiss, his touch,  his taste: sweeter than
any chocolate money could buy. And with him, I was hopelessly drowning
in a love I could not escape from. To this day, I am still.

Through drowsy, half-lidded eyes, I’d watch that grin creep
across his face, likened to that of the Cheshire Cat, hungry with longing
and desire. I’d curl myself into the warmth of his side, my hip pressed into
his thigh and breathe him in, slowly steadying myself for the onslaught
of emotion that still took me by surprise with each kiss. His lips, soft and
warm against mine felt like home, and he tasted of the coffee and stale
cigarettes left over from our late night of whispered words and
promises we swore we’d never break.

Only we did break them, somewhere between
“I love you,” and “it’s over,” we forgot the things we
always said we’d do, the plans we made in the misty haze of a forever
that ended too soon. And now I’m left to be swallowed whole in
those milky chocolate memories of a winter that felt far less cold.

A Year's Worth of Words, twitter-famous, and other randomness...

I don't really use this blog at all anymore. I've taken to doing all my blogging on Tumblr. Mostly because all I want to do is fangirl over Castle. And because I only have 7 followers here...versus 200-something there.

But I did want to post a link here, in case someone cool/important/famous happens across this page.

This started New Years' Day as my New Years' Resolution. I write. Every day. Just one thing. Whatever I'm inspired to write. Every day for a year. And it's the first resolution I haven't broken within a week. So so far, so good.

anyway, you can find it here: A Year's Worth of Words

Also, my main Tumblr: allthe-songs-makesense

Anyway, I do have a cool story to share with all...7 of you. It started with a research paper I wrote in my Intro to the English Major course last semester. Television as Literature: Castle and Detective Fiction – An Analysis. I earned an A from Dr. Simon, and posted it to my blog. You can read it here, if you'd like.

I think I will just post a copy of the e-mail I sent to our University's Director of PR...it sums up the story better than I can right now.

Hello,

I just shared an exciting moment in my life with one of my professors, and Dr. Simon thought it was a story I should share with you. So I am taking his advice.

I suppose I should start by introducing myself. My name is Allyson, and I am a 4th year student here at Fredonia majoring in English. Last semester, I was taking a course with Dr. Simon, An Introduction to the English Major, and our final project was a research project, of our own design, that we would propose and complete as a final 10 page paper. I decided to focus my research on the idea of television as literature, using examples from my favorite television show, Castle as support for my argument. If you aren't familiar, Castle is an hour-long police procedural focusing on a team of homicide detectives that solve crimes with the help of Richard Castle, a murder mystery and crime novelist. There is something about this show that makes it stand out to me as more of an art form than just a television show, and it made a great topic of focus for my project.

Dr. Simon deemed my paper worthy of an A, and so I decided to post the paper on my blog page, where I interact with a lot of other Castle fans all over the world. And one night a few days ago, I got a crazy idea: What if I could actually get someone from the show to read this paper? So, on a whim, I tweeted a link to the blog page containing my paper to Castle's creator Andrew W. Marlowe, as well as his wife and fellow Castle writer Terri Edda Miller, and the show's two main leads, Nathan Fillion and Stana Katic. I didn't really expect anything to come of it. About two in the morning, my phone starts going off, waking me with a Twitter notification. It turns out Marlowe not only saw my tweet, but read my paper, and deemed it worthy enough to earn a response. I was floored. He tweeted me back saying that he hoped my teacher thought I deserved an "A," because he sure thought I earned one for my efforts. I never imagined I would get any response, let alone a response that positive. That tweet also led to an insane amount of traffic on my blog the next couple days, from people all over the world.

It doesn't seem like much: just a 140 character response from a real Hollywood television writer, but to a girl from little Fredonia, NY...it meant something huge. All from an assignment I was given in a class where I had the freedom to write what I wanted to write about. That's what I love about Fredonia. The professors here (especially those in the English department--although I may be biased ;) ) really care about their students. They want us to study what we love and love what we study, and they push us beyond what we think we can do into the realm of the impossible. Without the support and motivation from Dr. Simon, I never would have been able to complete the kind of project I did, and having the freedom to choose what I really wanted to talk about allowed me to actually be excited about the things I was researching. And now I can cross "getting tweeted by a famous person" off my bucket list.

Anyway, I just wanted to share my experience, and serve as living proof that good things--impossible things--can happen to anyone, even in a college town as tiny as Fredonia.

So, as you can see...I've had a very interesting and exciting couple weeks. This story has gotten spread around the English Dept. Faculty listserv, and apparently has gotten great responses from the faculty. It' s also gotten attention from the PR office, and a Human Interest story was just posted on Fredonia's website, as well as being covered in an article in The Leader, SUNY Fredonia's student newspaper. It's also inspired me in my career ideas, as I'm considering going into television either the industry itself (writing or something) or maybe doing research and in-depth analysis like this as a scholar (grad school? maybe?). This has been an AMAZING experience. One that I never dreamed of, and something that is producing some really great opportunities for me.

I probably won't update here for another...few months. So if you want, you can catch up with me on tumblr. :)

xoxo
Allyson

June 6, 2011

Someone told me recently that I don't take enough risks. I spend far too much time alone. and I do. I retreat into a world of fictional characters, lose myself in books and television shows, analyze character development and relationships. All within the confines of my bedroom walls. I used to take risks. I used to reach out to other people and show them who I was. I used to open myself up to people in hopes that something wonderful would happen, but it never did. I would get shot down, torn apart & left to bleed and suffer alone. It got to the point where it was just easier to retreat into myself and avoid pain. He told me that by not taking those risks I was missing out on life, and what better reward was there than taking a risk and finding my other half? Except to me, that reward is out of reach; completely unattainable. That isn't in the cards for me. Plato derived that soulmates originated with the idea that man once had four arms, four legs and two faces. But the god Zeus was threatened by the power that they possessed and so he split them apart, condemning us to spend the rest of our lives searching for our other half, our missing piece--the other being who would complete us. Some people get lucky - they search for a time and stumble across that person, and finally feel complete. People like me? We aren't so lucky. We go through life searching and waiting, and trying again; giving away pieces of our hearts until we are even less complete than we were before and have nothing to show for it. And I'm tired of giving myself away to people who will only hurt me. I've become more and more rational in my decision making, not allowing myself to take a risk or make a gamble, deciding instead that I am better off alone. When you are alone, no one can hurt you. When you don't rely on anyone else, you have no choice but to be strong for yourself. And then he asked me what was stopping me from taking those risks; from making those gambles. He, the person who I had probably come the closest to finding my missing piece in; he, who knows me better than anyone, inside and out. He is the only person I ever 100% let my guard down with and the only person who ever compelled me to be 100% honest about how I felt. In asking me what held me back, he knew I'd have no choice but to be honest, with him and with myself. And so I admitted my fears; my fear of disappointment, of rejection, of all the things I believed about myself being proven true. And he asked where those fears come from. He of all people should know, but I answered him anyway. Goodbye is the only thing I have ever known. The minute I start to feel comfortable and let my guard down, it's as if an earthquake comes along and the ground drops out from beneath me and I lose everything. I lose all control. i lose myself. And it hurts. It hurts to be proven correct, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that you are okay for a time, but you will never be good enough for forever. That you will always be left because no one cares enough to stay. That no one will ever be willing to fight for you because you are not worth fighting for. It's painful and it's shattering and I never want to feel like that again. So it is safer to hide away behind my bedroom door, in front of a television screen, in the words of fanfiction written in the early morning hours as night turns to day. It's where I feel safe, it's where i know that no one can touch me; no one can hurt me--I can never be abandoned if I'm alone from the start. And maybe I am missing out. Maybe there is this part of life I don't get to experience because I keep myself hidden away. But I find that I really don't even care anymore. It hurts too much to be abandoned, and I would much rather sacrifice finding my soulmate than open up and be left alone again, with nothing more than another scar and a little less of myself to show for it. I never imagined at 21 that this is what my life would become. But it has and it is, and somewhere deep inside of me, I guess I can't say I'm surprised. Maybe I did know all along.

I haven't written here in a really long time

& I wish I had something to write about, but I really don't. I haven't really done much lately. I've been trying to avoid thinking, because thinking leads to problems. I'm just writing papers, reading books, and trying to survive the next two weeks without killing myself.
*insert deep thought here*
I'm watching the Doors movie because I'm reading a biography of Jim Morrison for my book review in Music, and I am utterly fascinated with the Doors. The story of Jim Morrison and the Doors is intriguing, addicting, riveting and dirty. & I'm fascinated.

it's a first kiss, it's flawless, really something; it's fearless ♥

I just had the most amazing day. I got up around 11, got ready for work left around noon & we stopped at BK Lounge, since I'd been craving it for 20 million years. I had to work 1 to 6, and it's hard to work when you are anticipating something so much. They stuck me in fitting room, which would be fine on a normal day. But with nothing to do, the time drags on. So. Slow. After three hours of that, they pulled me out of there to go run 60 Housewares stuff. I spent the next hour and a half PRAYING for six o'clock. & when it came...I was so happy. haha. A bunch of people knew about the date so they're all like..."OMG Allyson, good luck." hahaha. & I was laughing & I went outside and...there he was. So we went to Wing City, and ate...and it was so funny 'cause he was awkward and nervous and it was so cute. & he held my hand and it fit and I was like...this is it. So he wanted to kill time so we went to Walmart and wandered around holding hands and looking at random shit and talking. Then he drove me home, and we talked some more, and he reached over and held my hand until we got to my house and then we sat there. In the car. & we're both like...ummmm. & he's like "Id ask if you wanted to kiss, but I dunno if that's too soon or something..." and I'm like "Well...no, I don't think it is." and we both kinda leaned in and bumped noses and like...it was that awkward sort of perfect where you're both nervous and shy and its adorable and perfect and my heart skipped a beat and he smelled really good and his hand fit perfect with mine and he's like "I hope this lasts." and like...I couldn't catch my breath and I'm like...I guess I have to get out of the car now haha. Its just so cute 'cause he gets all shy and awkward and I think its adorable and I don't know. I'm just so happy I can't breathe and I had to write it all down so I wouldn't ever forget this moment. ♥

Life Ramblings

I really want to write a blog, but I don't really even know where to start.
It's the end of the semester. I need to get through a 15hr work weekend and 4 finals and then I can say I survived my first semester at Fredonia. To be honest, I really don't like it there. I had two professors I liked, I'm not really enjoying my coursework, and I really haven't made a single real friend since I started there. By the end of my first semester at JCC, I'd made at least five friends. It's so depressing. On days when my JCC friends aren't around for classes, I'm sitting alone, running the battery out on my laptop, then searching for an outlet to plug it back in.
With the exception of one person.
SMS is...unbelievable. We met online 4 months ago, discovered we had a mutual friend, and we each went to her for information on the other. hehe. We met up for coffee a couple times, and before I knew it, we were texting back and forth practically all day, every day. We went out to dinner at Applebee's, got some more coffee...and then life got in the way. We both got caught up in school and work and life, but continued to talk everyday, even though we didn't see each other again for a couple weeks. Over those few weeks, we had several conversations about life, love, and our futures, and with every text, we learned more and more about the other, and realized just how well we fit. We finally had a chance to get coffee again, and we sat for two hours talking about everything and nothing. Then, he texted me one lonely Tuesday while I was sitting alone in a corner, and surprised me so I wouldn't have to sit alone anymore.
He gets how it feels to be broken hearted. He knows how it feels to get dumped; to deal with a bad relationship. He isn't the kind of person who wants to push it or rush it in any way. He's teaching me the art of patience, and the anticipation is making it all so much more exciting. I'm clinging to this feeling because it's...the most amazing thing I've ever felt. He's being careful because he doesn't want to deal with another breakup. He wants his next relationship to be the last. He's not looking for a night, or a week, or a couple months. He is looking for forever. Forever is what I've been searching for my whole life.
He's smart and he's funny. He has goals and plans for his life. He keeps mentioning things in a way that makes it sound like we'll be doing them together, playing video games and going to concerts, and meeting my parents. I'm trying to be apprehensive; I've trying to keep myself from being excited. Because it seems like every time I get excited and get comfortable with something, it gets ripped away. But I can't help but be excited about him. He's everything I've been waiting for. And I'm perfectly happy to continue waiting and anticipating what is to come, because I just have this good feeling that we have all the time in the world to let this happen.
Life is being absolutely wonderful to me lately, & I hope it doesn't decide to crash & burn on me again.

When you think "Tim McGraw," I hope you think of me...

I just did some reminiscing. circa 2005. God, what we had was so innocent, so real. What I'd give to experience that again. Now I face relationships in the adult world. With real world responsibilities, and real world expectations. Back then, we were just two kids in a magic kind of puppy love. That just doesn't happen twice.

I really did love you, despite what I thought when I was with jek, our love existed; it was real. I can try & deny it and claim he was my first love. But I'd be lying. You were my first kiss, my first magic & my first heartbreak. She is so lucky to have you, and I was just lucky to know you & have you in my life for a time. You're beautiful and wonderful and you will make her so happy for the rest of your lives. I only wish I could tell you this all person to person. But I doubt we will ever speak again. It's such a shame.

I miss your friendship. I miss you.



jrb, Thank you for my first glimpse at love. I will never forget you.

"September saw a month of tears & thankin' God that you weren't here to see me like that. But in a box beneath my bed, is a letter that you never read from three summers back. It's hard not to find it all a little bitter sweet & lookin' back on all of that, it's nice to believe. When you think Tim McGraw, I hope you think my favorite song; the one we danced to all night long, the moon like a spotlight on the lake. When you think happiness, I hope you think that little black dress--think of my head on your chest & my old faded blue jeans. When you think Tim McGraw, I hope you think of me. & I'm back for the first time since then; I'm standin' on your street. & there's a letter left on your doorstep, the first thing that you'll read is: 'When you think Tim McGraw, I hope you think my favorite song. Someday you'll turn your radio on--I hope it takes you back to that place.' When you think happiness, I hope you think that little black dress. Think of my head on your chest & my old faded blue jeans. When you think Tim McGraw, I hope you think of me."

It's easy...

Dear Big Guy,

It's easy when I'm nowhere near him. I don't see him, hear his voice, make eye contact. I'm so...happy. I don't want to be with him. I don't want to try and make a relationship work. Hell, I don't even want to be friends. At all. Not even a little bit. He is the worst thing in the world for me, and I'm happy without him. He hates me for nothing, and if that's how he wants to feel, then I'm fine with that.

But just when I feel safe. I'm not worried about running into him anymore. I just don't even care at all. & then I chance going out and doing something...there he is. I don't know what it is. I'm happy with where I am right now. It's just...when I see him, I lose all rational thought. My stomach drops to my pelvis, my heart pounds, and I can't think. at all. It's not that I'm not over him, because I feel like I've crossed the Golden Gate Bridge four times with how over him I am. Jordyn says it's because he was my first "real" love. I hope that there's another reason, or that it goes away soon. Because its inevitable that he'll keep being in all the places I am; we live in the same place, basically. But if I have to feel the way I felt today every time I see him, I'll move to Peru to escape.

I hope he finds happiness, and gets everything he deserves out of life. I will always care that he is doing well for himself. But I am so happy with my life, and I'm happy with moving on and where I'm going right now. I don't need to forget how to think everytime I see him. So if I could just not see him ever again, that would be great. Thanks.

Sincerely,
Me.

It's a Pumpkin Spice Kind of Morning...

Walking across campus after my killer Psych Stats class this morning, only one thought was running through my mind: What am I going to order at Starbucks this morning? Yes, I am lucky enough to have a Starbucks right here on my college campus. And seeing as though I have a four hour break between classes, where do you think I usually end up?

Now normally, my go to drink is the simple, no-muss-no-fuss, Caffè Vanilla Frappuccino (no whip. I HATE whipped cream on my coffee drinks.) It's sweet, and icy, and the coffee taste isn't too overpowering. But this morning was a little nippy, and I wanted something warm. Hot chocolate wasn't going to do the trick--I needed the caffeine. I finally finished the trek across campus, and stood, staring intensely at the menu on the wall. When out of the corner of my eye I saw it. The beautiful picture that drew me in . "The Happy Return" it said. That just had to be a good sign. So I stepped out of my comfort zone, looked the barista in the eye and ordered it...the Pumpkin Spice Latte. She handed me my cup with a smile, and I settled myself at my usual table. I took a deep breath, brought the cup to my lips and sipped.

Each spice - cinnamon, clove and nutmeg - was easy on my palette, and while the espresso flavor was still a little strong for my taste, the overall drink was a lovely combination that I am thoroughly satisfied with. Made with 2% milk, and minus the whipped cream, this drink came in at only 240 calories, versus the 220 calories of my go-to drink. For only 20 calories more, I think it's a nice change of pace. Now that I know what expanding my horizons can be like, I won't stop here. I will courageously try several more signature drinks that I have been wanting to try, but lacking in the bravery department to actually do so.

In keeping with my pumpkin theme of the morning, I went all out and purchased the Pumpkin Cream Cheese Muffin, the one that has been teasing me from behind the glass for weeks now. This muffin was...something out of a dream. I texted a friend of mine, and this is what I had to say. "But this muffin. OMG it's to DIE for. I'm serious. I would sacrifice my life for one bite. If I'm ever on death row, this will be part of my last meal. I'm in love. Oh, Pumpkin Cream Cheese Muffin. I think that my wedding cake will be made out of you." Yes, this muffin really WAS that good. Moist and delicious, I actually ate around the cream cheese, because that put it over-the-top in the sweetness department. Although I could do without the candied pumpkin seeds on top. Just not my cup of latte I suppose. ;) This muffin comes in at a whopping 470 calories, but it was so sweet I could only eat half, so I'm clocking it at about 235. Which is still a lot, but nothing I can't live with when it comes to a muffin that is a gift from God.

Starbucks, you've done it again. I love you. However...my bank account isn't quite so happy. Indulging my habit has cost me about $50 bucks alone since the beginning of the semester. But the habit isn't going anywhere, so I guess I'm just gonna have to make more money. Hey TJMaxx! Time for a raise. ;)

"Because I believe above all, that love is something that is discovered through the good times and sustained in the bad times."

Currently Listening:
Getting Dressed in the Dark
By Jaron and the Long Road to Love
Pray for You

After my last breakup, I've spent a lot of time sulking, moping, and feeling sorry for myself. But in the course of all that, I've begun to figure out who it is that I really am, and what exactly it is that I am looking for. I refuse to keep settling for second best because second best doesn't get you anywhere but dissatisfaction and heartache.

I want a boy who can make me laugh, who makes me feel special, who likes or can tolerate country music, who will enjoy lazy days watching movies on the couch just as much as he'll enjoy a Friday night on the town, and won't mind when I'd rather stay in than go out because I'm exhausted from my life. I want someone sweet, kind, considerate, smart, respectful (especially of my parents--for God's sake, DON'T meet my parents for the first time and say "Hi Mom." just DON'T.), and fun to be around. I want someone who doesn't smoke, who doesn't do drugs, who isn't afraid of a real relationship, or of sharing his feelings and thoughts with me. I need someone who is open and honest, who won't keep secrets, who is spontaneous to a point, but who won't change his mind about the things that really matter, like "I love you." I want someone who can make me feel beautiful, and who can reassure me on the bad days, and celebrate with me on the good ones. I need someone who will be there, who I know I can count on.

If you are or can be any and/or all of those things, don't hesitate to let me know. :) Because I promise you, that I can be an amazing girlfriend, if you give me the chance to try. I am honest and open and fun, and I really am up to try just about anything at least once. I am loyal almost to a fault, and when I love you, I love you fiercely, with everything I have--the good & the bad things about you. Because I believe above all, that love is something that is discovered through the good times and sustained in the bad times. And if you survive the bad, then you know that what you feel is real, and that makes the good times to come even that much better.

& I bet He'd understand a heart like mine.

I ain't the kind you take home to mama;
I ain't the kind to wear no ring.
Somehow I always get stronger
When I'm on my second drink.

Even though I hate to admit it,
Sometimes I smoke cigarettes ew.
Christian folks say I should quit it;
I just smile and say "God Bless."

'Cause I heard Jesus he drank wine,
And I bet we'd get along just fine.
He could calm a storm and heal the blind,
And I bet he'd understand a heart like mine.

Daddy cried when he saw my tattoo, *soon.
But said he loved me anyway.
My brother got the brains of the family, I have a sister, & I got those too :)
So I thought I'd learn to sing.

'Cause I heard Jesus he drank wine,
And I bet we'd get along just fine.
He could calm a storm and heal the blind,
And I bet he'd understand a heart like mine.

I'll fly away from it all one day.
And I'll fly, I'll fly away.

But these are the days that I will remember,
When my name's called on the roll.
He'll meet me with two long stem glasses,
And make a toast to me coming home.

'Cause I heard Jesus he drank wine,
And I bet we'd get along just fine.
He could calm a storm and heal the blind,
And I bet he'd understand--
Understand a heart like mine.
Oh, yes he would. ♥


I'm tired of hypocrites. I'm tired of being told "We should love everybody, because Jesus did & it's the right thing to do," but being told it's wrong to be gay, do drungs, drink, smoke, or be an unwed mother. Who are we to say what is right and wrong? Who are we to judge anyone else for who they are, what they do, or how they feel? It isn't our business; it isn't our place to decide. Leave the judgements for the Judgement Day & love everyone--Jesus died for ALL of us, not just some.