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 I've been kind of a mess since last year, kind of in this downward spiral that never seems to end. I haven't been able to feel... happy. I was always okay, just okay. Never high, never low, but just was. And I thought that was, well, okay. This isn't the first time I've felt this way; years ago I felt the same way except less magnified. But one night last year, before I closed my eyes, I whispered to myself, "I'm unhappy." And then I cried. I cried myself to sleep-- a quiet, full body shaking sort of sobbing. Day after day when I woke up, it was this constant feeling of misery. Another day to get through, another day of being, another day of doing. I wanted everything to end, I wanted to jump ship, I wanted to say goodbye. There were times I thought I had kicked it, that I felt good again. I took advice from friends to go somewhere that wasn't here, even if it were for a weekend; I ran more than I usually did; I drove to the ocean to let it soothe me; I lost myself in films and books; most importantly, I wrote. I was never good at talking about things. The mentality I've always grown up with was not to complain, but to deal with things and take them in stride. In a way, that's a good thing. I'm a soldier, I keep trucking, I keep going. In another way, that's a bad thing. I don't talk, I can't communicate my emotions, I bottle everything up. I don't complain much because whenever I do, I feel annoying. Also, on a sidenote, my mom absolutely hated when I cried (whether getting yelled at or for doing something wrong); she'd always give me this look that translated into, "Really? Is this really necessary?", and would tell me to stop crying even though I couldn't, which just made her yell at me even more. So I've grown up rarely crying over things. But when I do now, it either means something is really wrong or I was genuinely moved by something (a film, book, etc). Because of all these little things, I've become an excellent masker of emotions. I keep my sadness in, I don't get angry (because that's an ugly side of me), I downplay anything that troubles me. It's all in my head where I overanalyze and eats away at me. No one's a mind reader so no one knows how I'm truly feeling, if I'm suffering, what I'm thinking. You could spend all day with me and not know me at all. In some cases, you could be friends with me for years and still not know me. That's how it is with me. I put on a mask and I put up walls because I don't like feeling vulnerable. Now couple everything together with the fact that I am a stubborn person. I'm not outrightly stubborn-- I don't fight over things, I'm happy to compromise, I'm very easygoing. But I like figuring things out, and I like doing things by myself without help. Because, isn't that satisfying when you figure something out all by yourself? I rarely went for extra help in school, adamant that I could do it all by myself. But I know I can't do everything by myself (especially in life), and I can't always shun the feeling of vulnerability. I will be vulnerable, and I will feel pain. And I will learn to pick myself up with the help of others. In college I met someone very important me, who I call Super-J here. I've mentioned him here now and then. Long story short: we were friends, more than friends (I don't do well when things are undefined, and well, since I can't for the life of me communicate how I feel, you can see where this went), then friends again. I would be lying if I said I didn't want to be with him because I still do, but that discussion is neither here nor there. He taught me that life is worth living, that there are second chances, that it's okay to feel. He helped me grow, he helped me see things differently, he made me a better person. And he has also seen me puke, but again, that story is neither here nor there. My point is, he is the most wonderful and genuine person I know. A few nights ago after I showered, I went to check my phone. He had called, so I called him back. During my shower, a deluge of emotions and thoughts beat my mind into painful oblivion: negativity, despair, sorrow, suffocation-- everything in the past year and further. We started out talking okay until I choked up and finally managed to say, "I'm sad" before I started crying. I curled up into a ball and put an arm around myself to keep myself from shaking. He listened to me as I cried, as I sniffled, as I tried to form words to describe everything between my gulps of air. He listened. He listened to me. And he was patient with me. He related his own experiences, advocated therapy and getting help, and made me laugh through my tears. At one point I said, "I have snot everywhere." He said, "That's hot." After we finished talking, I felt better and couldn't help but think what his face looked like during the call and how he felt. If I could tell you what love is, I think it would be that. I guess it means something if someone still puts up with you through puke and through tears. And that it means something when he says that I'm one of the good ones, that I'm here and I exist in this universe for a reason. I can only hope that I've done the same for him, that I've been there for him too, that I've listened to him when he needed me to. I love him, both as a friend and more than a friend. I wish I could tell him that-- that I'm still crazy about him, that I love everything about him, that if he gave me a second chance I would be better at it. I wish I could just say all those things. I've had 3 referrals written down for over a month now. I've stared at them everyday, unable to make the call. My stubbornness got the best of me but as things progressed to the breaking point this past week, I threw in the towel. I can't do this by myself anymore. I know Super-J is right, and I'm sure most would tell me the same thing. Something's not quite right with me. No one should feel this way all the time. So I called and made an appointment. And I'm going to get myself sorted out. This is the first step of many. (I've turned the comments off for you 2 readers, but you can always reach me here.)
—Sunday, March 29, 2009 The first step
 This is not what I had in mind for one of my favorite childhood books. But this is what I had in mind for one of my favorite childhood books.
—Saturday, March 28, 2009 1 comment Childhood books
 - Newspaper front pages (daily) - 20 Corporate Brand Logo Evolution - What does one TRILLION dollars look like? - Growing Sentences with David Foster Wallace - You Should Have Seen This (I've seen about 75% of these...) - A dialogue with Sarah, aged 3 (This is the best conversation, ever.) (Previously: Lists, part 21)
—Monday, March 23, 2009 0 comments Lists, part 22
 I'm trying to be a better person.
—Sunday, March 22, 2009 I'm trying
 Isn't it the worst when you have to sneeze in the middle of eating? Your mouth is full of food and you just know it's not going to be a good situation. You frantically search for that napkin to avoid disaster in your hands or on your sleeve or anywhere else. Hopefully, it's not on the person sitting across from you...
—Saturday, March 21, 2009 1 comment On sneezing
 Tonight was the book signing for A Homemade Life by the lovely Molly (Orangette). I was excited that she would be coming to New York as part of her book tour. I had pre-ordered her book from Amazon and am still reading it. If you've read her blog, or have been a long time fan like me, you'll love her book. Her stories are heartfelt and poignant, and her recipes are absolutely wonderful. I'm sure I'll be going on a cooking frenzy when I finish reading! This is the fourth time I've actually met and spoken to another blogger I don't know personally-- well, if you can count squeaking out a few words as speaking. Each time my mind goes completely blank. I clam up, I kind of do this mini-freakout, and I lose my ability to talk. It's like my mouth doesn't know what do and my brain is constantly in this state: "OH MY GOD, I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M STANDING RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU. HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE. I READ YOUR BLOG ALL THE TIME. OH MY GOD." Because to me, bloggers are like celebrities (in a good way). I admire so many blogs and their writers, it kind of blows my mind when I meet one face-to-face. (If I met any of you readers, I'd be the same way!) In my head, everything plays out all cool and nonchalant-- we have this awesome conversation as if we're best buds, we bond over our common interests, reminisce about this and that, laugh like it's the good ol' times, and so on. Good lord, that never happens. I am the queen of uncool. I remember shaking in my shoes when I shook hands with Heather (I think squeaked a "Thank you" after her panel); I was wide-eyed and flustered when Maggie said hello and complimented me on my then domain name; and I just could not believe for a second I spoke and sat next to Whitney. Even when I saw Mena sitting in front of me, I freaked out! (This was all at the very first BlogHer back in 2005.) So anyway, after Molly spoke and read a chapter from her book, everyone lined up to get their books signed. I wasn't thinking about much as I waited on line; I was admiring the books around me and was just genuinely excited to meet her. But as I got closer, my hands started to sweat a bit and my heart began to race. The pounding in my ears was deafening. I looked to the ground, trying to breathe as normally as possible. I was trying to think of what I had wanted to say but I couldn't for the life of me remember. Then it was my turn and I walked up to her. I totally didn't introduce myself and just handed her my book (my name was written on a Post-It note on top). I think I said hello and then she looked at me and asked, "Are you Amy?" (face palm) I went, "Oh! Yes! I am!" As she signed, I managed to say that I absolutely love her banana bread recipe. She smiled and said, "Oh, thank you! You know how I feel about bananas..." I laughed and said thank you as she handed the book back to me. Before I turned to go, I said, "Have a safe trip!" She said, "Thank you!" Well, I survived yet another blogger encounter. Whew. (PS. Molly is just as lovely as she is in her blog. She's such a wonderful person!)
—Wednesday, March 18, 2009 1 comment Meeting Molly (Orangette)
 (larger) I've been thinking about the concepts of giving and being kind lately. Is there such a thing as giving too much or being too kind? It's nice to receive, but can it all be overwhelming? Sometimes I wonder if I should dial it down, put a limit on how much I should give. That sounds incredibly silly, I recognize that, but I really do think that sometimes I give too much and it ends up piling up on the other end. Maybe it's because I want to share everything all at once instead of... parsing it out? But when I try my hardest to divide it up, it still feels like it's too much. It's like I can't keep a good thing to myself; I have an uncontrollable urge to give (and share). ...is this a bad thing? Can it be a bad thing? I mean, I don't share every single thing; I do keep things to myself. And when I give, I do mean it. Sometimes I give with my heart, sometimes I do things out of love, sometimes I give and do things just because (random acts of kindness). Maybe I should just be mean, cold and horrible. It'll give me a little edge. (Because I should be edgy...?)
—Sunday, March 15, 2009 0 comments On giving and being kind
 Ned: "You don't have to pay for it, friendship. The truth is there are a lot of people like you, us, with, uh, strange hobbies or talents or gifts that we try to hide because we're afraid it makes us seem weird or turns people off. But that's a mistake. What makes me unique has brought every person I love into my life. And it could be the same for you." Randy: "Well, there's nothing wrong with being alone, you know. Joe taught me that. Called it the first step. No good to somebody else unless you're good with being just you." (PS. Happy Pi Day! It really is official.)
—Saturday, March 14, 2009 0 comments Unique
 Rank in order of what's more personal to you (1 being the most personal): phone call, texting, email, instant messaging. For me: 1) phone call, 2) email, 3) texting, 4) instant messaging I think phone calls are the most personal form of communication; it's the closest thing to talking to someone face-to-face (which I prefer the most). I find emailing more personal than texting because you're putting more thought into writing it? Kind of like writing letters except in digital form. Then again, people tend to despise email because there's so much of it. Therein lies texting: fast, immediate, and when you mean it, you can convey feeling pretty well, I think. But it's like the Twitter effect: say what you can in this many characters. I mean, you can send multiple texts too, whatever works. (Also, I think texting abbreviations like "4" instead of "for" and "ur" instead of "you're/your" make it more impersonal.) I put instant messaging last because I'm rarely on AIM anymore. But I think it's pretty personal because the person's right there talking to you, especially when you do video chat. If I were on/used it more often, I'd put that up there with phone calls. Oye, it's kind of tough ranking these.
—Tuesday, March 10, 2009 4 comments Personal communication
 Please watch this: Public Enemies If you managed to keep it together after seeing that, then kudos to you. My mouth fell open when I saw the trailer before Watchmen. There was a chorus of "Holy shit!", "WHOA", "Wow" and "Johnny Depp is HOT!" afterwards. I was sitting there silently freaking out. If I had a BAMF-o-meter, this would be a 10: complete BAMFness.
—Sunday, March 8, 2009 1 comment Public Enemies
 Today. 030609. Watchmen. Excited. Will write something cohesive after I see it. Or at least a jumble of words. My excitement is making me babble. Like with The Dark Knight. I'm such a nerd. Or fangirl? Can't wait to see Rorschach...! Edit Oh my god, that was a pretty great film adaptation. Wow. I mean, I have issues with what was taken out and changed but overall, wow. It all worked out, changes and everything. It's true, Watchmen is impossible to film-- it's an incredibly intricate story and to include everything would make it like a 10 hour movie. But I have to give a massive high five to Zack Snyder and everyone for doing it justice. Wow. Rorschach, my favorite character, was perfect. Jackie Earle Haley played him beautifully and perfectly. Just... perfect. A++. The attention to detail is absolutely phenomenal. I'll be seeing this movie a few more times...
—Friday, March 6, 2009 2 comments WATCHMEN
 "I don't want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a career, I don't want to do that. " -- Lloyd Dobler
—Wednesday, March 4, 2009 3 comments Sell, buy, process
 I like it when it snows. It muffles the sounds of the world. Everyone moves a little slower, a little quieter. It feels oddly apocalyptic, but in a good way if that makes sense. People disregard the streets and jaywalk all over because hey, when there's this much snow, anything goes. So we have/had our first major snowstorm of winter in March. (I like it. It was like that time it randomly snowed in May.) Although I have to admit, it hasn't been snowing like it used to. For you East Coasters, remember the Blizzard of '96? That was magical. There was no school for those few days and all the kids in the neighborhood sledded up a storm. I remember having a very Calvin & Hobbes moment when I flew down the hill and went sailing through the air, faceplanting into a nearby snowdrift. As I type, the snow is still swirling around outside. I told Mr. Boss that I was taking a snow day today and he was all, "Yeah, I'm not leaving my apartment either." Good to know we're on the same page. So what am I doing today? Sitting by my window wrapped in a blanket with a nice cup of hot chocolate (with marshmallows) and reading a book. I might pop in a DVD later and settle in for a movie.
—Monday, March 2, 2009 1 comment Big snow '09
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