A wise (and I might add, beautiful) woman once told me “you have to put out positive things into the universe in order to receive positive things in return.”

Unfortunately, I haven’t quite been able to implement this piece of advice, which I know to be good and right and the very recipe for healthy and normal self (just add a pinch of Martha Stewart sunshine and stir). I've tried! And I smile, and the anti-depressants kick in and life is good for an hour or two.

But, I do still cry. I can’t help it. There is usually music involved, something about love, or loss or….trees(?). It really doesn’t take much. But I HAVE erased all traces of DHT, Corrine Bailey Rae and Gabriel Mann from my iPod. That’s got to give me a FEW sunshine points, no?

I’m sure you’ve all had images dancing in your head of your darling Scarlett staying in night after night with no one but Ben, Jerry, Van Gough (bottle half empty) and the cast of the OC (still alive and well on my TiVo) to comfort her. And while, on the surface, this ensemble could be construed as a rather…lively… way to spend an evening, it's not QUITE an accurate description of my daily routine.

Fortunatley, the universe has its own rosey colored plans for me, dispite a lack of deposits its 'positivity' accounts weighed against a hefty portfolio of doom and gloom.   For starters, I’ve gotten some wonderful, quality friend time in recently! Barbie time, XO & G time has been wonderful if slightly emotional and intoxicating. I’m hoping our encounters in the near future will take an upturn turn ala the sunny spring weather!

Job is great – I’m busy, which I love. Kicking ass and taking names – what I do best (professionally anyway)! And since the federal government has deemed me fit to handle super secret stuff, I'll be starting my new position in June after a much needed vacation. So that's DEFNITELY something to look forward to. 

And then there’s Army – who is nothing short of perfect. He’s gotten the friend thumbs up, the very decerning cat vote, and even my father thinks he's brillant. Our relationship is insanely open and honest, and sickenly healthy. Weekends on the Eastern Shore, hiking, movies, grilling, drinking, dancing and all around general fabulousness.

And sometimes it feels right. And sometimes I’m happy and I laugh. And sometimes, I forget, and I let myself start to care, but then I stop. I stop because I’m scared. I stop because he’s leaving. I stop because I’m not quite whole.

Maybe he won’t turn out to be the Sandy to my Kirsten, but right now, he's definitely the Zack to my Summer**.

But here's a question: how do you fully enjoy the Newport colored sunset when you know it will eventually disappear? And puh-lease don't tell me 'live for today', because that philosophy only REALLY works in Jonathan Larson musicals.

 Frankly,

*If you get this reference (and no - I'm not referring to the case of South African Zin delivered to my apartment yesterday afternoon), give yourself cool points for the rest of the month! You're set!

(Written on Saturday.....I may take it down again)

How do you let go? How do you finally say goodbye without saying a word? How do you just mentally release when your thoughts and anger are the only you can cling to at night, even when there’s someone else sleeping right beside you?  

How do you drop your memories, your feelings, everything you know in your heart to be true? How do you just walk away? How do you stop your tears from falling even on the most beautiful spring morning you’ve ever seen? 

How do you stop wondering if it will ever REALLY be OK? If you’ll ever be THAT happy again?

Why, after knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that you deserved better, do you still want what you know is so wrong? And why, when you’ve changed your life for the better, given it renewed momentum , a green light for progress – you want nothing more than to put it in reverse?

Yesterday, I was elected, via popular vote plus an almost unanimous bid from the super delegates (Britney Spears and Michael Jackson pulled two votes each) the sole party candidate for the Presidential election of Crazy Town. I am currently attempting to withdraw my candidacy effective immediately, but the locals keep pulling me back in with bribes of happy pills and bottles of wine.

I have severe reservations about disclosing the exact events and/or circumstances under which I earned a VIP seat on the Express Train to Crazy Town (which bypasses Obsessive-ville, goes way beyond Nuts-o City and stops just short of Lunatic Junction) yesterday afternoon. Let’s just say it was a very, very low point that did no one (least of all ME) any good. A low point, a cavern if you will, which ultimately left me sitting across from Barbie #3 at a Dupont bar last night recounting my ride to Crazy Town whilst tears streamed from my red, puffy eyes that I tried to mask oh so cleverly behind Jackie-O sunglasses.

Thankfully, by the time my second Guinness was delivered by what had the be the WORST waiter in the history of food service, the tears had abated and I had re-applied my eye makeup, the evening took a decided turn for the better. By the end of the night, life didn’t seem quite so hopeless, and while I was still VERY crazy, at least I was laughing at my own insanity.

I will spend this weekend waiting to purchase a one way ticket back to the realm of sanity while I try to forget the fact that my friends are at my alma mater without me. And that despite his undeserving behavior, Fuckhead will be with them and I will not. I will try not to remember last year’s reunion and look, instead towards to future and concentrate on the present.

I have a beautiful weekend planned with Army to be spent on the Eastern Shore at a little Bed & Breakfast with sailing, shopping and sea food. Frankly, it sounds infinitely preferable to fraternal drama, substance abuse, and feeling significantly older than my 21 year old, undergraduate counterparts.