Welcome to the Jungle

A conversation involving three people.
One is not present.
One is me.

"So that was quite a party."

"Yeah."

"...who was that girl?"

"I work with her."

"Oh. Yeah. I woke up and she was gone... Sketchy."

Baby Jesus

Erin got a new puppy.

And then he ate my face.

His name is Jesus because he's our gift from God.

And he's also a totally harcore badass.

Weight Watchers

"And then I had a margarita! Which is like... TWELVE POINTS!"

"Oh, that's ok! Tequila generally leads to burning calories."

Nevermind

Huh.

Nevermind then...

The hearing concluded Thursday instead of Friday.

I guess sometimes things work out a certain way for a reason?

I guess May is soon enough to see him in person?

The Hearing

I'll admit it's been a rough week.

haHA, Bridie! You're probably saying, Like you ever DON'T have a rough week!

Yeah, OK FINE. I'm just being my usual emotional wreck then I guess.

The thing is... this week has been an initial hearing in Michelle's murder case. Basically they are watching and listening to all of the interviews done with her accused killer prior to his arrest, and determining whether or not any of his rights were violated. Or basically... shoot me now.

I have never been so far behind at work due to my own lack of motivation as I am this week. But every morning I come in and read the latest report in the paper and immediatelly lose my will to do anything other than curl up in a ball under my desk and sleep.

Sleep.

I just want to sleep until this whole thing passes over.

But, you know, that's really not an option. And you know what else is not an option? Hysterically reading portions of the newspaper reports out loud in the office. Because you know who does not know how to handle your hysterical grief? Co-workers.

Awesome.

In any case, I debated back and forth this entire week as to whether or not I would attend a portion of the five day hearing. I couldn't decide whether it would be good or bad for me to see the man who killed my friend in person. Any normal person would say, "GOD NO!" But for some reason I feel like maybe this could be what will provide me with resolution.

Or maybe it could just be good practice for the trial?

You see, Dorsey just found out today that she will be testifying in the actual murder trial, due to take place in May, or thereafter. And there's no way I'm sending her there by herself.

So maybe if I pop into the hearing I can get my hysterical episode out of the way... and then actually be able to BE THERE for Dorsey when it's time for the trial. Because part of the reason I hate getting so (publically) upset about the murder, is because I've always felt my role was more of the person to TAKE CARE OF those MORE upset by the murder.

Hence sitting shiva at my apartment.

Hence inviting Dorsey to move in.

Hense the resulting stress and breakdowns?

So this is me saying BRING IT ON. I'm going to the hearing tomorrow and it's going to be SHITSTORM MESSY. To the point where it's possible I might scare off my newly renewed friendship with Tyson (my escort) for quite some time.

But you know how I know I need to go? Because every time someone says to me, "Are you sure that's a good idea?" my whole insides knot up with the knowledge that the only people who could know it IS a good idea, are the people that lived through it.

And right now, none of those people are here.

And the knowledge that this event literally drove people out of town, literally determined our paths in life, well that's reason enough to me, one of the few people who knew her who still live here, to show up for at least a piece of this court date.

Pickle Pack!

I love when friends get genuinely excited at your good news

Like tonight when I told Matt the Veteran that I was working on my very first article for the Weekly.

"Wow, that's so cool!" he exclaimed. I smiled and started to continue my story when he went on. "No, seriously that's so great! When did that come up? How did it happen?"

I know that Matt is one of the many friends I have trained to give me big reactions. He knows very well that I get pouty when others don't share my excitement over things. And he's definitely aware that when I get pouty, I get difficult.

But I could tell that the excitement over the story was his. Not some act he was playing out for my benefit.

And it made me so appreciative of his friendship.

And of the fact that he moved in just down the road.

And most especially of the fact that along with all the other things Matt knows about me, he knows the best way to say 'hey, Congratulations!' is by offering me a jar of pickles.

That kid done gone and learned me well.

didn't you wear that shirt yesterday?

Sometimes, when I wake up five minutes before I have to be at work, and I pull a pair of cords on OVER MY PAJAMAS before jumping in my car, I feel like maybe I'm still not enough of a grown up to have a 9 to 5 job.

Grandmother

Over Thanksgiving me and the Veterans sat around wasted playing Truth or Truth, which is basically Truth or Dare, just with no Dares. Since the game only involves talking, it can be played sitting down. Or in other words, it is perfect for when you're drunk off your ass and/or trapped in a moving vehicle.

This time around someone asked what the one thing we each wanted to do with our lives was. The thing other people might judge us for, or think we're crazy for.

"I want to have seven children," I said without missing a beat.

'CAUSE I GOT THE BABY FEVER!

Really though, I do want to have a lot of kids. Yesterday if not sooner. But the only reason I throw out the number seven is because my grandmother had seven children, and how she lived her life is exactly how I want to live mine: as the ultimate nurturer. Seven children, followed by fourteen grandchildren, every one of which was there for her when she died.

My grandmother wore seven silver bangles on her left wrist for as long as I can remember. This Christmas, my aunt gave one of the silver bangles to each of the seven grandaughters. It was by far my favorite Christmas gift, INCLUDING Season 3 of Grey's Anatomy. I'm still getting used to the clink it makes every time I place my hand on my desk, but the fact that each clink reminds me of my grandmother makes it a welcome sound.

My aunt chose one with a swirly design for me. The inside is worn completely smooth. You can pick out the seven on my grandmother's wrist in the twenty-four year old photo I keep framed by my bed. A photo I love because it shows just how well-adjusted I've always been.

Check out my grandmother's tube-dress! Now you know why we called her 'Dottie the Body'!

2008!

It's officially 2008. Officially time for me to get my act together.

"I don't even know what that means," Tyson said.

"It means I'm going to stay on top of my bills," I replied. But really it's a whole lot of things.

I had two New Years Resolutions for 2007. The first was to not cry about Michelle in public anymore. A few public nervous breakdowns had literally labeled me as "the girl who cries" (at least at the O.P.) so I made that priority #1. My second resolution was to not date anyone younger than me.

I kept one of those resolutions.

The one regarding crying about Michelle in public was ruined on New Years Day. And while over the course of the year I became more and more of a shut in, I also became more and more forgiving of myself for how I cope.

The dating one worked out well. In 2007 I was involved with people as old as 31, but not one younger than myself. Woot!

In 2008 I have way more than two resolutions:

1. Jazzercise my little butt off. Until I can officially refer to my butt as 'little'.

2. Make a better effort to get my writing published. Consistently.

3. Get help. Mentally. This starts with clearing my back balance at my pcp and asking her opinion on the matter.

4. Visit each and every one of Vermont's local breweries. BEER!

5. Stay on top of my credit. Seriously.

Not so exciting, I know, but hey, it's the year to get my shit together. I'm turning 25. No more excuses.