Navigation
|
Loves
|
My boyfriend. My friends. My music. Poetry. My family. Eating chocolate. Life. Cats. Computers. Thunderstorms. Being myself.Sex.
|
Hates
|
Liars. Cheaters. Stupid people. Working for Wal-Mart. Posers. Brittney Spears. Hilary Duff.People who call themselves your "friends" when they are not.Traffic.
|
Reads
|
The Diary
|
Another day in paradise Umm.. I think it's time for another self-interview... How was my day? My day was long, boring and I am fixin' to rip out everyones head, shove shit down their throat and dance the jig. I am seriously going insane people. I work long hours, people drag me into their he said she said bullshit and I am about to burst. I really can't wait to get away from it all, when my vacation rolls around. I am so going to disappear for a week. I am going seriously relax, sleep and have fun. An not worry about being yelled at for something I didn't do. It's to a point where I just laugh at everything and at everyone when they open their mouth. I mean seriously, when do high school childish games end? I really want to know, why can't people act like adults. Grr.. How was your day at work? Like I said, long and boring. I work so much that I think it's making me go insane. I work with the kind of people that are from fun, nice, happy to all around brown noser. I love working with Tina, her and I goof off to relief tension or to unwind alittle bit while getting things done. We crack jokes, talk about our love life, our past. Anything that we feel like at the moment. Lately, all we have been talking about is the two guys she is jungling around. I swear the girl is soap opera in the making. Russell did this and TJ did that, good God someone help me!! It's all good though, her and I will hang out tomorrow. We plan to head for the movies and dinner. Plus, she needs a shoulder to lean on, cause she really needs a friend right now. Besides, she doesn't want to hang out with anyone but me tomorrow. I guess that makes me feel special.. *S* How is everything else? Everything else is ok. I got another love story e-mailed to me that I got permission to post. So here is one from, sinorsaint. (An if you have a love story you wish to have posted please by all mean, e-mail it. Also, I am still looking for someone to help me run a diary dedicated to love! Let me know peoples!) "My Pulse throbbed against my right temple as my mother outlined our up-coming family trip to the Yucatan excitedly. "We'll be staying on a primitive, Mayan beach. There is no electricity, we sleep in the open air under a thatched tent and are several hundred kilometers away from civilaztion as we know it," she chirped. I was about as psyched to board that plan as I was to watch Mel Gibson (my long-time star crush) french-kiss his wife! Of course, this kind of trip was nothing unusual for me and my family. The three of us had camped throughout Europe, roamed the rice paddies of Japan armed with only knapsacks and a pet turtle and driven across the United States three times. I was, by no means, a conservative traveller. However, this Mexico thing did not sound much like a vacation at all. It was more like a great way to die. The Mexico Airport looked like a converted hospital waiting room. The heat was unbearable, but I rejoiced momentarily in the realization that my mother had been wrong for the first time in my life: I did not need to bring that damn sweater! This rare conquest made me crack a smile briefly. Then, just as suddenly, my spirits were crushed again. We approached the care rental agency. There, squeezed into a lot the size of a classroom, were twenty Volkswagen bugs. Brilliant! My parents and I were going to venture through Mexico, a country notorious for it's reckless drivers and unpaved roads, encased in a tin matchbox! Cursing Fahrvegneugen, I crawled into the suffocating heat of the rear. There I was, in the back seat of life...sticking the vinyl upholstery. Kyle was a native Californian whose family had recently moved to Oklahoma. Looking back, it is a wonder that the dear had any desire to approach me at all. Having already taken the necessary 2.3 seconds to settle into our crab-friendly, mosquito net of a tent, I had moped down to the water in search of Kathie Lee Gifford and a rescuing cruise ship. My lips were taut with fury, my jaw stiff with resentment, and my eyes were locked in a lethal stare. As I scanned the motionless, blue water for circling fins Kyle introduced himself to me. I was hardly in the mood for civilities. Jaws was out there in that ocean just WAITING for me. Much to my dismay Kyle continued talking to me, determind to start a conversation. All he got was an occasional grunt or two, no eye contact. He asked my name and other nosey things like that. I answered him back for lack of another option and stared at crystal water. The tide hadn't moved one bit. I looked at Kyle - he was about 5'10", with dark hair, equally dark hazel eyes and a most remarkable tan. Fearing that he would eventually move closer and corner me for good, I surveyed the beach for my father. He was no where to be found. Kyle ran his thumb and index finger through his shoulder-length hair, adjusting his reflective sunglasses...he was becoming discouraged and I was succeeding at making him feel uncomfortable. Maybe he would just leave me in my misery. Amazingly, only a few minutes in this gripping moment of human interaction, Kyle managed to endear himself to me forever. "My uncle's foot was bitten off by a shark and I saw the whole thing," Kyle stated with a hopeful perk in his eyebrows. This was a dream come true! I begged him to recount the entire episode, blood-loss percentages and all. "How big was the shark? Did it swallow the foot whole or chew it up into easily digestible pieces? Is your uncle shorter now?" I relished in each gruesome detail. Kyle spewed forth the images of fear and danger, pleased to see my face actually moved. I could not be sated. As Kyle continued, I began to actually notice him - his voice, his venacular, his manner...his presence. Yes, yes, I wanted this guy in my life. From that moment on we were inseperable. Kyle was thrilled to meet an actor from New York, who had gone to the "Fame" school and had mastered the art of burping. I was ecstatic to learn that Kyle was attending art school, despised George Bush and had been stabbed in a knife fight once. Soon we were no longer just dropping impressive facts about ourselves. We were talking like to old friends. Suddenly, Mexico felt like the safest place in the world. Each morning we walked along the beach at sun rise and feasted on a Mayan breakfast of fresh fruit, fish, and deliciously sweet mile. Kyle even convinced me to take a scuba diving class and was right beside me as I took my first breath under water. He sat in the scalding sun loyally, waiting to present me with a reward of Crystal soda, as my oxygen tank and I battled it out in the deep end. Later that day, with eyes bulging and our bangs stuck to our foreheads, we plunged off the rickety dive boat into forty feet of intimidating water. Bobbing helplessly in the middle of Yuchatan, our weightless bodies unable to sink, we laughed at our predicament and choked on the wakes. After three days of exploring the beach, chasing baby crabs and discussing every subject from politics to sex, it was time for my friend to go. Kyle would soon be dragged back to school and Saturday night "cow-tipping", leaving me to fend off attacking crabs and sharks on an empty beach. We were sitting in the silence of the deserted dining palapa on our last night, overlooking the brightly illuminated ocean, listening the waves crash on the shoreline. Our feet rubbing together through the cold sand as the distant giggles of over-tired Mayan children in their shacks trickled through the warm air. We nursed two emerald bottles of Crystal and yawned in unison. Our eyes were heavy, but we refused to close them. We dared to stop time and we silently promised each other to make every minute last as long as possible. We tried to absorb as much as possible before the sun rose. Somehow, even at the time, I could sense how special this encounter was. I had been given this little gift, one I would carry with me forever. The stars spread out over the charcoal sky. I told Kyle how I thought about death all the time since my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. Kyle showed me the bruises on his arms from a recently kicked heroin addiction. I confessed that I was dating a guy with whom I was no longer in love. Kyle spoke somberly of a friend who had shot himself in the head. Anytime we spoke about anyone else, we also dropped it and gravitated back to him and I. We came from two remarkably different backgrounds and yet, there we were, lying on a beach we now thought of as our own. Eleven years have passed and I have not seen Kyle since. I do not know what he looks like without a tan, or whether those ten pounds he finally gained enhance his physique. However, I do know all about his latest sexual conquest, what he thinks of his new step-mother and how much he worries about his other family members. You see, the dresser by my bed is stuffed with letters from Kyle. We have been writing since his plan left Mexican soil and I sat alone on the beach crying over my crinkled note pad and leaky pen - writing him our first letter of friendship...of hope...of love. Kyle and I write and talk about Mexico all the time, replaying every moment to keep it alive for us. We say we will definitely go back, but deep in my heart I we won't. It could never be the same. By my television stands an artfully framed picture of our final morning together on the beach. Our tanned arms are draped around each other, and we are squatting behind a hungry golden retriever. Ther are huge circles under both our eyes. So, Kyle is out in Oklahoma where the wheat is as high as an elephant's eye. I am in New York performing comedy improvisation and burping in public. Our deserted beach is now some modern resort with electricity and purified water. The tents have been replaced by concrete hotels and the giggling, Mayan children are undoubtedly shooed away from the premises. But I bet the crabs are still there. And somewhere along that beach are the seeds of a destined friendship. They are invisible to everyone but the crabs and the crashing ocean waves. Buried beneath the sand are two strangers' feet which, for three perfect days, walked side by side. ~ Alison continued to work for Chicago City Limits and went on to work in comedy television doing copy material for the Drew Cary Show and Saturday Night Live. She know works with the Friars Club in New York City. She was married in the Summer of 2002. Kyle is a eCommerce and Digital Media Consultant based out of Oklahoma whoes clients have included Volkswagen of North America, Mandalay Sports, and Hilti International. He has four kids and is divourced. Kai Luum Palapa retreat and its land was bought and the existing establishment was torn down two years later. A modernized hotel had been erected in it's place." --Ally |