It's been a long, long time since I wrote last. Let's see. . .I've been to Toronto and back (saw Ryan and had an amazing time), decided I'm not going to Philly, and school is back in session so all my college friends are there and I'm not and it makes me feel awfully sad.

I saw two good movies: Monster which stars Charlize Theron and Christina Ricci, and Love Actually, probably one of the best romantic comedies out there.

There's a part in Love Actually that revolves around three characters. The girl, played by Kiera Knightley who was in Pirates of the Caribbean, is married to this guy, okay? And the guy's best friend, we'll call him John because I can't remember his character's name, is really bitter towards Kiera. At first, you kind of think it might be because he's gay and maybe he has feelings towards his best friend and resents her for moving in on them. But then, Kiera comes over to John's house because he has a video tape of the wedding, and as she's watching it, she realizes that it's all of her. Close ups of her face and everything. And then you see that he's in love with her and that's why he's so bitter. So later, it's around Christmas, John pays a visit to Kiera and her husband's house. He knocks on the door and she answers it, and he's standing there with all these huge signs and a radio. He holds up the first sign and it says, "Tell him it's carolers." So when the husband yells, "Who is it?" She tells him that it's just carolers. He continues to go through a bunch of signs that basically say, it's time to tell the truth, so here's the truth, and then he holds up one that says, "To me, you are perfect." And her face is just, priceless. And the whole moment, it's like one of those Say Anything moments, you know? It's just so wonderful, and god damnit, it's like, why doesn't a guy ever do that for me?

Anyway, I figured that the only thing that could've made that movie better is if I'd been sitting there with a man I was totally in love with instead of my sister. But oh well. You take what you can get, I suppose.

Speaking of my sister, she took my mom's car the other night when she had been drinking and Mom was in bed. Mom called the police on her but right as she hung up the phone, Elaina pulled up, and Mom called the cops back and told them not to come. To be honest, I was a little upset by this. I wish the cops had come, and arrested her, and maybe when she was in handcuffs on the way to the police station, maybe then she would begin to wonder what the hell she was doing with her life. But I guess we'll never know, because my mom basically worships my sister and is an "enabler" like the lady at the clinic said. She "enables" my sister to drink to excess which I can't exactly disagree with. And she's not really setting that great of an example either, which I guess is a sorry excuse because Elaina is 19 and not 9 anymore and she should have herself pretty well figured out. But she doesn't, obviously. And she needs help.

I will try to write more often, I think. It's been hard because I've been working so much overtime which is beginning to really wear me out. I'm also thinking about getting a car and I do want to move out at some point, so I have a lot on my mind. But instead of just thinking about it, I'll try to write about it.

Anyway, I'm off to bed. I'm reading another pretty decent book called The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, which isn't as great as The Dogs of Babel, but it's giving me something to do. I'll write soon.

Currently Reading The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time (Vintage Contemporaries) By Mark Haddon see related

It's been a whole six days since I wrote last. Here's an update:

The Hanson concert was all right. I could tell the guys were tired and worn; there wasn't a whole lot of energy and not a lot of talking. Not to mention that I probably would've had more fun without my sister there. I should've went alone. It was still nice to see them (for the fifth time) and I appreciated it more, maybe since I have met them in person.

Their show consisted mainly of songs from Middle of Nowhere, which was a real treat, considering that most fans haven't heard those songs played live in years. They also played Stevie Wonder's "Signed, Sealed, and Delivered," Bill Withers' "Ain't No Sunshine," and the Spencer Davis Group's "Gimme Some Lovin'." A nice little package of covers. And of course, all of the songs from "Underneath" that I wanted to hear, they played.

So, in short, I'm glad I went, and they're going to be in Scranton at the end of August so I'm thinking of getting tickets.

Also, I talked to Amanda, which was so wonderful because it's been so long. I finally got past being mad at her for backing out on us when we were supposed to move in together with Elaina, and she laughed when I told her, "I knew you'd be pissed." But, I worry about Amanda. A lot. When I was in New York with her, I can remember her saying that NYC is a trap. The irony is that it's always been her dream - to live on her own in New York City. I have to give her credit for doing it, living her dream. But, sad as it is, I think it's time she moves on. It IS a trap, and she's caught in it.

It all came back to me, as I was talking to her on the phone and hearing the sadness in her voice. . .

It's somewhere between 2 and 3 am and we're still at Ryan's apartment in Brooklyn. I'm on my sixth or seventh beer and feeling a nice buzz, sitting in a bedroom with a couple of people I recognize but don't know. Extreme's "More Than Words" is playing, and I get up to find Amanda and Elaina.

Elaina I find in the kitchen, sporting a baseball cap and jersey that I know don't belong to her, and she's talking with two or three guys. I tell her that I don't know where Amanda is, and so she walks away with me. The bathroom door is shut, and we both know that she's in there.

Elaina knocks. "It's just us," she says. And Amanda's response comes, "Just a minute." When she finally opens the door, the first thing I see is the blood. There is so much blood. She's crying, and I start to cry then, screaming. Elaina hushes me, "Leighann, stop," she says. "This is just how Amanda deals with her problems." "But why?" I scream, not able to take my eyes off of the bloody towel covering her wrist. "Amanda, why? Why do you want to hurt yourself?"

She cries harder. "I know it's hard to look at, Leighann." And I turn away. I don't want to see anymore.

We talked for hours that night. Amanda and I. "The first time I did coke was with Fred," she tells me. Fred is her father; she refuses to call him by anything but his name. She explains to me that she knows she needs help, that she knows she needs to get out. That's why we're doing this, she tells me. That's why the three of us are moving away.

But Amanda's still there.

I think I worry about her more than anyone else. Even Elaina. Because Amanda doesn't have us there to help her. She has no one.

Anyway, I called about a few apartments in Philly, and I'm hoping that if Elaina and I get set up with a place, Amanda will follow. I'm hoping, anyway.

Ten days until Toronto. Wow.

Currently Playing Stage By Keller Williams see related

It's been a long day.

Went to Pittsburgh this morning to train for a new system we're working with at Wamu. It was pretty much a waste of time, considering that it was eight hours of driving time for a mere two hours of training. Bullshit. But, I have to admit, it was better than being at work.

Tomorrow, I'm going to try and get up early. I have lots I wanna do - go to the bank and see about opening a checking account and getting a credit card, make a hair appointment for next week, and hit the mall to find something to get Ryan.

It was fun, though. Driving with Nyree and Diana. I feel like Nyree could be my sister even though she's ten years older than me. When we stopped to eat at Roy Rogers, we kept spotting men and saying, "That's a trucker," "Well, that doesn't really look like a trucker." We came to the conclusion that most truck drivers aren't really bad looking guys, if they shaved off those annoying long-haired beards, lost a few pounds in the tummy, and washed their hands.

There was a lot I wanted to write tonight, but for some reason, it's lost. It's been a long day. Time for it to end. Night.

Life. Birth. Baby. Mother. Child. Grow. Learn. Talk. Cry. Sleep. Eat. Drink. Milk. Food. Bread. Money. Cash. Green. Blue. Sky. Stars. Sun. Moon. Earth. Water. Boat. Ship. Wreck. Die. Death.

I had quite a bit of fun playing this game in bed the other night, and by bed, I actually mean the couch in my mother's room, uncomfortable as it is. The rules are simple: See how many words it takes you to get from "Life" to "Death," making sure that each word relates to the previous one in some way, and of course, don't use the same word twice. As I write this, I find there is a much easier way to accomplish this goal, and it consists of this:

Life. Death.

Anyways.

The other night, I dreamt that I was with Ryan. He was lying on his bed and I was sitting on top of him, my legs spread over his sides. I reach down to unzip his pants, and when I look up at him, his eyes are filled with such fear. I lean over and whisper in his ear, "Have you ever done this before?" And he shakes his head. Which isn't a lie, exactly, considering that he's never slept with me before.

But Ryan knows what it feels like. He knows what it's like to be completely inside of someone, wrapped up in their body. I'm embarrassed to say that I miss sex. I've been thinking about it a lot lately, and not in a perverted way. My friend, Sarah, who I've been spending a lot of time with, is saving herself for marriage. I admire that, in a lot of ways. It's such an emotional act, and sometimes I wonder how I could think of it in any other way. It's like that person is literally reaching into your body, into your body, and touching your soul.

It doesn't have to be like this, I know. It can be purely physical, driven by lust, which also has its share of benefits at times. But to save yourself for someone you're totally and completely in love with, and to give yourself to them, your entire self, not just pieces, it must be beautiful. Unfortunately, it's too late for me to make a decision like that.

IN OTHER NEWS. . .

I very much enjoyed the day with Sarah yesterday. It was nice to get out and spend some time with a normal family. We went to a karaoke party afterwards, which was a lot of fun. I probably drank a little more than I should have, but no hangover this morning, which is always good. I thought about going to Mass tonight, but I don't think I'm going to. It's hard to come back after you've been away for so long.

Sarah says I write too much in these entries. More next time.

My mom likes to sing. Of course, under normal circumstances, this wouldn't be an issue. But it is, because I inherited the habit.

She was in two bands in her 20s; one even got approached about signing a record deal. "We almost made it," she'll tell me, sighing. And when I ask her, "What happened?" she'll answer with the expected, "We just...went our separate ways."

It's a shame when I think about it, how my mom missed out on an enormously different future. But anyway - I guess that's why Mom sang to us beginning when we were babies. Elaina says that ALL mothers sing to their children, and it doesn't matter if they suck. But I can remember being so little and lying in my bed, and listening to my mother sing the song I loved the most, "Anything For You," by Gloria Estefan. It was so beautiful to me, and it comforted me. Funny how kids are.

Unfortunately, though, I grew up. When I was a young teenager, my mom's singing drove me crazy. I hated it. To me, it was like she was being...what's the word? Pretentious? And the songs that were played on the radio, they were my songs. Meant for my generation. How dare her!

A story about my mother singing: We're in the car driving home from Maryland after some barbecue thing. Elaina's in a bad mood. Mom's singing at the top of her lungs in her usual ostentatious way. It's annoying the hell outta me, but I keep my mouth shut. Finally, my mom says, "Elaina, what is wrong?" My sister responds with, "You wanna know the truth? I hate it when you sing." I lost it. I literally couldn't catch my breath because I was laughing so hard. Elaina started to laugh, too, and I think even my mother chuckled a bit. She answered, "Do you think I liked it when my mom sang?" And when the next song came on the radio, Mom belted it out even louder than before.

Another story: My mom goes to karaoke with my Aunt Lou and her boyfriend, Bill, almost every time she's visiting them in Maryland. They love it, and I guess it's become sort of a tradition. Lou tells me that she and my mother sing "Pictures" by Sheryl Crow and Kid Rock all the time. She says, "Your mom asks me, 'Do you wanna sing 'Pictures?' and I'll say, 'Eh, I don't really feel like it.' And your mom practically begs me, 'Come on, you can be Sheryl Crow this time!' So I agree. And we get up to the stage, and Kid Rock's part starts, and she doesn't sing. I look over at her and she kind of points to me, 'That's you!' she whispers. So, she's Sheryl Crow. Again."

So anyway, we went to the diner tonight - Mom, Elaina, and me, and on the way there, Don Henley and Patty Smyth's song, "Sometimes Love Just Ain't Enough," comes on, and I start to sing along, because I know the words. It's not long before I'm drowned out by my mom, who's basically yelling the harmony, not the melody, and I just know she's thinking how wonderful it is that she actually knows the harmony part. She doesn't even sing Don Henley's parts, because she's a woman and everything.

A few years ago, I would've been annoyed as hell, searching the scenery for something to distract me from hearing my mother's voice. It's not bad or anything. Just annoying. But tonight, it didn't really bother me. In fact, I was kind of proud of my mom, the way she raised her voice with the harmony, knew every single word and every single breath. I think, you know, what's the harm in letting her sing?

IN OTHER NEWS... I'm spending the day with Sarah tomorrow. I think it'll be fun. We're going to her family's party during the early evening, and probably hitting up a much "hipper" party as the night wears on. Looking forward to getting out a little.

Just found out that I'm going to start training for a different system at work. We use two systems to board loans there. I only know one. I have to take an online course, which I started today, and then on Wednesday of next week, I'm driving to Pittsburgh with a co-worker to train in person. We're allowed to dress casual and we get $35 dollars to spend on meals that day, but I think I may dress up anyway because, you know, you never know who you might meet. Always be prepared. :o)

I finished The Dogs of Babel. I'm such a dork, I know it, because I think about books for days after I finish them. It was so sad, and yet so satisfying. I find myself getting so involved with the stories I read, and people make fun of me, because I'll be sitting there finishing a book, tears streaming down my face, and I'll even think how ridiculous I would look if someone happened to walk in on me.

Anyway, it's a book I'll be proud to keep in my collection. And one that I'll be happy to recommend. So, read it.

Currently Playing College Dropout By Kanye West, Kanye West see related