This weekend, with no pre-planned activities or mandatory fun on the schedule, The Guy I Am Currently Dating and I ended up at the cheap movie theatre again. I seem to have phases where I'll see every movie in the cheap movie theatre, followed by not wanting to go to the movies for three months. (for those who don't know, in ATL, we have one movie theatre that shows second-run films for $1.25, or 75 cents on Tuesdays. It is a fun and inexpensive night out.) Last weekend, we saw "The Invention Of Lying", which was a cute and funny movie. It was actually fairly witty in the parallels it drew to how things like religion developed (though I could see it offending some people because of that.), and Jennifer Garner managed to be the least annoying version of herself possible by playing a character that was largely un-likeable through much of the film. Ricky Gervaise is quite funny, in a somewhat self-deprecating, witty fashion.

This weekend, we saw "Julie And Julia", which I wouldn't have recommended enough for people to go see in the theatres, but is worth a DVD rental. Meryl Streep, as always, is fabulous and believable as a frumpy-but-spirited Julia Child, and I almost always enjoy Amy Adams, who is very likeable and endearing. It was interesting to me, as someone who has been blogging for a long, long time, that the story was based upon a real-life blogger who took up the challenge of spending a year working through Julia Child's "The Art Of French Cooking", and found a writing career as a result. Blogging has now become so mainstream, such a part of our culture that it can open all sorts of doors for people, and I think that's amazing. I remember back in 1999 trying to explain to someone about this new idea called "Blogger", and the blank looks I got back in response.

I haven't been to see "New Moon" yet, which of course I want to, but I think movies are generally more fun when not packed with 16-year-olds. Also, I've heard it's a good film, but not exceptional, which is how I felt about the first Twilight film...so I am willing to wait. I'd also like to see "The Blind Side", which has gotten wonderful reviews, and looks like a really inspirational story.

I've checked out a few new restaurants in the area lately, too (another weekend hobby, in addition to movies!:P) . A few weeks ago I hosted a small dinner at a new restaurant called Park's Edge, in Inman Park. It has a cute ambiance, almost a loft-like space, that reminds me of New York, and there is private, non-valet parking, which is a rare gem ITP nowadays. The food is a bit on the expensive side for the portion size, and they don't have many options for vegetarians; however, everything my table ordered got rave reviews, and the cocktails were *wonderful*. One of my dining companions even made reservations to go back the next day for brunch. If you're in the Atlanta area, I'd strongly recommend checking it out.

One weekend in November, it occurred to me that The Guy I Am Currently Dating and I had again gotten into that routine where we were either busy doing things or so happy to have time to not do anything, that we hadn't had the opportunity to do anything "romantic" in a while. I'm a pretty traditional girl that way, I guess; I like to go to nice, intimate restaurants with candlelight and flowers, or piano bars or jazz clubs, as much as I like to go out to a club, or stay in and watch a movie. Romantic stuff is important, and I think one of the reasons I've always been great at dating but bad at "relationships" is that, after a certain amount of time, "relationships" tend to leave that romantic stuff behind, unless you work at making a point to do those things.

Anyhow, we ended up at Altobeli's, an old-fashioned Italian restaurant with a piano bar. The owner had contacted me almost a year ago about getting my Meetup group in for an event, but it took me that long to check out the place, as it's fairly out of the way in Alpharetta. I can't say enough about how I loved this place; the atmosphere is both romantic and has that old-fashioned Italian family feeling. The singers and the pianist were all quite good, performing mostly jazz and cabaret standards. The food was amazing, the martinis were well mixed, and the portions were large enough for two meals (the food, that is,not the martinis.) It is not the place to bring a large group, but a romantic night out, a special family gathering, or a small dinner party would definitely be at home here.

Thanksgiving was pretty much a non-event for me...my roommate ended up going out of town, and my former roommate, with whom I've celebrated Turkey Day the past few years, was on vacation with her fiancee and left her 2 dogs with me for the weekend. I figured this would not be an issue, as I'd lived with one of the dogs for almost 2 years, and the other came with a cage. She was also going to be watching Trixie so I could travel home for Christmas and not need to put her in the PetSmart Pet Hotel...so it seemed like a fair deal.

Unfortunately,the second dog is an extremely hyper puppy...a lab/pit bull mix who does a lot of jumping, and at 80-85 pounds, that kind of hurts. Within 24 hours of being here, he'd drawn the attention of angry neighbours who threatened to call the cops, he went on the carpet repeatedly, and when left alone for an hour so I could do some work, he ate my couch. Literally. I have a bag of pieces that used to be part of the couch, and now are not. Somehow during the entire experience, I caught a cold, so I'm feeling pretty run-down and didn't get even half as much work done as I wanted to, and until last night, slept maybe 12 hours in 4 days.

Thanksgiving was not one of the best holidays ever,but at least I was too tired and aggravated to notice that nobody else was here. I killed my diet this weekend...which I'd been doing pretty well on for a week or so...by eating at Cracker Barrel and having chocolate cheesecake. I guess that was my version of Thanksgiving dinner, only not on Thanksgiving. I was also reminded about something I know about myself, but it's good to check on now and again,in case I change my mind: I never want to live in a house with puppies or children. I'm not cut out for the staying at home and taking care of things routine. I don't have the patience, or the energy, and I end up wanting to leave the house and never come back. *laughs* I have no idea how other people do it, chasing after things that always want and need things from you, all day long. I'd spend a lot of time hiding in the closet.

Time to stop blogging, and get back to work!! If I actually get anything accomplished in the next two days, I'm going to take time out and watch "Grey Gardens", which is waiting for me on the DVR. :)

I watched an interesting interview with Barbara Walters and Sarah Palin this evening.

As much as I don't like Sarah Palin, her views, her attitudes, her ideas, or some of her choices, I do sort of admire the fact that at least she realises she was being used by the McCain camp, and touted as a strong female voice of America while at the same time being told to shut up, play the part, and tow the party line. At least she realises she was turned into a punchline, not taken seriously by anyone, and not defended even by her own people.

Interestingly enough, now that she's not campaigning, her "folksy" accent and figures of speech that made her sound dumb rather than unpretentious seem to have decreased by about 80%. Also, when she's speaking naturally and not attempting to make a good impression in an interview, she doesn't stutter, give nonsensical answers, or appear stupid. I don't think she's sincere when I see her in interviews, or if she is, it's difficult to tell when she's being honest and when she's bullshitting and defending hereself...but it's good to see that she is an intelligent and spirited person of some substance, even if not a person I'd ever agree with or want to represent my country, or my voice as a young, independent female. It's almost as if when she isn't playing a role or pushing an agenda, her IQ goes up 30 points (even though she still did use the phrase "backasswards" in an interview with Barbara Walters. *laughs*)

I'd actually be interested to read her book; however, I don't want to give her any money. Maybe I'll find a Republican friend or relative who has it floating around.

I still think the Democrats should add Tina Fey to the 2012 ticket. You know, before the world ends and everything. ;)

Though this is fairly old news, for those who don't know, last Friday, my apartment building caught on fire. NO, it was not my apartment on fire, and NO, I am not the one who started the fire (even though I'm no Martha Stewart, I've never burned down the kitchen.) But, nevertheless, it was a pretty scary experience.

I was really pretty oblivious to the entire thing. I'd been working on the computer, and even though I knew I needed to shower and get dressed for Friday evening out, I was pretty lazy and unmotivated...so at 5 PM, when I heard sirens, I didn't pay much attention. I hear a LOT of sirens around here.

On my way to the shower, I got curious, and looked out of my bedroom window...and lo and behold, there were 3 fire trucks and a lot of people standing out there. I was a little alarmed, and a little curious, so I opened the front door. BOOOOM, a big cloud of awful-smelling black smoke. Me not being the most logical person ever, I stood out in the smoke long enough to yell down to the firemen and ask if we should leave the apartment (a more practical person would have just grabbed some important stuff and stood outside with everyone else, but it did occur to me that there might be danger in going down the stairs. ). One of them seemed to nonchalantly indicate no, don't worry about it, so I went back in the apartment. There was no smoke inside the apartment, which was kind of amazing to me considering the amount *outside*.

5 minutes later, while I am texting/Facebooking/emailing people about the fire, a firefighter comes to the door, complete in fire garb and mask, telling me to grab my dog because we need to evacuate. I grabbed my phone, my sweatshirt, and Trixie (for future reference, money/wallet/purse is an important item to grab in case of potential emergency.). By that time, the smoke was twice as bad, and Trixie refused to go down the stairs because it required walking through the smoke. I had to drag my 75-80 lb. dog down a flight of stairs in a cloud of black smoke, and all in all, that was pretty scary.

It turned out to be OK; one of the apartments on the first floor had a kitchen fire. What alarmed me was that due to the terrible maintenance of my ghetto apartment complex, we don't have fire alarms in our bedrooms (we're supposed to), the one in the hallway does not work, and there's one fire extinguisher for the entire building. If I were alone in my apartment and had a kitchen fire, I'd have to leave the fire, walk down a flight of stairs to retrieve the extinguisher, get it out of the box, and go back to an undoubtedly much larger fire. I'm sure the time it took to get the hallway extinguisher contributed to how quickly their little kitchen fire was able to spread and evacuate a few buildings.

During my lifetime, I've survived 3 major surgeries, including a burst appendix. I've been through 3 serious car accidents that either killed or injured other people with barely a scratch, I've dislocated my knee, been a victim of violent crime, broken toes and fingers and been stitched, stapled, and clamped back together on various occasions. All of these things have resulted in a few irrational phobias; among them, the fact that I don't know how to drive a car, and also, that for the past 15 years, I've had a firm belief that I would not make it past 30. I've joked about surviving some of my reckless and wild choices in life, only to be mowed down by a Mack Truck at 30. Now that the clock is sort of running out on that, the irrational fear in the back of my mind has gotten a little louder.

So, as you can imagine, when I opened the door to see my building on fire, my initial thought was, "Oh my God, that fear was absolutely true!". I really felt like I was inside, minding my own business, and still, the Mack Truck knew where to find me.

I'd like to say I've changed my attitude a lot in the past few years, and I like to think I'm a survivor of some things rather than an intended victim. Rather than seeing the various things that have occurred in my life as a sign that someone somewhere is out to get me, I'd like to think that maybe there's a guardian angel on my shoulder that's helped me get through some dangerous situations in one piece. But, still, sometimes it scares the hell out of me...and the "curse" (which was initially self-imposed) of not living past 30 is one of those things I hope does not come true because years of me saying this pushed it into my reality. Back then, there were times I didn't much care if I made it past 30, or not. Now I do care, and it scares me that I may have created a self-fulfilling prophecy.

I might want to spend the next few months in a bubble, just in case.

I kind of miss my blogging days, sometimes.

It's odd..in the past near-decade, I've gone from sharing my life with strangers back when "blog" was still a relatively phenomenon to being stopped on the subway by someone who recognised me *from* my blog to realising that sharing your life with everyone you know can have some dramatic consequences to accepting that emotional exhibitionism might not be the healthiest habit, and a person such as myself might be better off not putting too much out there on a blog, or trying to appear on reality TV. Sometimes, you find yourself more exposed than you'd like to be.

But I still have difficulty writing in my journal on a regular basis, knowing it's for "just me". Yes, there's a freedom in that, knowing you can write what you really think and feel, you can talk about others, you can say the things that you'd *never* say aloud, not even to your best friend. But it's also uninspiring, in a way, knowing I will not get feedback or dialogue or empathy or criticism. Sometimes, when I write in my paper journals, I find myself wondering if I am, in fact, writing for an invisible audience. Maybe someday, when I am long gone, someone will be reading my thoughts, my life...but knowing that inhibits me more than inspires, I'm afraid.

At one point last month, I even considered reviving Uninhibited, spent some time looking into web hosting and Word Press and mentally designing new layouts. I know it's something I won't ever do again; after incidents with stalkers, haters, people I thought were friends printing out my journals to use against me, angry friends who disliked being referenced and boyfriends who don't want to be recurring characters in Alayna's blogosphere, I know the negatives outweigh the positives. But as a creative outlet, I do miss it. I often find myself writing stories to share, in blog form, only to realise the handful of close friends who have access to this blog already *know* the stories. :)

Most of my old friends from the good ole' blogging days have also moved on; everyone's Twittering and YouTubing and Facebooking too much to maintain personal weblogs of any depth, or they're too busy, or too afraid the wrong person will one day find what they've written. But for me, I miss the insight into other people that the medium offers. I've made some amazing friends through the blog-world, and I think it's because people allow themselves to be more open, more vulnerable. In life, that's scary...but it is also real, and endearing.

I'm not sure what this blog is about, really; perhaps just thoughts on an idle observation. I don't love Twitter or MySpace or maybe even Facebook as much as I love blogging, even though nowadays, I do those things far more.

If someone asked me what my ideal job were, one of the things on the list would have to be writing a daily blog or newspaper column. I'd probably have some issues with staying on topic and the space parameters, but, regardless, it would be awesome to get paid to share your thoughts with the world.

If Khloe Kardashian can have a radio show, anything is possible.....;)

OK, I admit it. In addition to my really bad TV addiction, the truth is, I also like some really *bad* TV. It's one thing to confess that you like Grey's Anatomy, Project Runway, and Survivor...and entirely another thing when you've seen every episode of Bravo's "The Real Housewives Of Atlanta".

I don't know why, exactly, I like that show, or if I would like it if I didn't live in Atlanta. I started watching it just for the novelty of seeing where they were going to eat,drink,and dance around town...and then, before I knew it, I just got sucked in. Compared to some of the other "Real Housewives" series, the storylines are fairly lame and the personalities aren't all that interesting...but it's easy to watch just for the ridiculous amount of interpersonal drama and sheer displays of egotism.

This morning, I was watching the reunion show, where they have chit-chat with all the cast members and ask questions designed to start fights..but I was particularly annoyed by the show, and here's why.

On the show, the women are always using their money to try to *do* things: build businesses, write books, design clothes and plan fashion shows, record songs, etc. And, frankly, most of them aren't incredibly great at any of the things they're attempting to do, and the main reason the projects work out is because they have the money to hire professionals in that industry to make it work. (With the exception of Kandi Burress, who appears to have made all her money in the music industry, and is a very accomplished and independent musician.) But that's not what's irksome; in fact, I think it's awesome that these people have the courage and the resources to put it all out there and try.

The annoying thing is, every single time one of these ladies is launching a project, the others either sit there and smirk, laugh, and criticise, or can't be bothered to show up at all. They're forever talking behind each other's backs about how untalented and what a joke so-and-so is, rather than showing any support whatsoever. Even when asked a direct question, very rarely do any of them have a sincerely nice remark to offer about their colleagues' endeavours. It's as if anyone else attempting to succeed might upstage their own efforts, so they're almost *looking* to their friends to fail and whispering about how terrible and inferior anything anyone else does happens to be.

I suppose I'm bothered by this because I've experienced a LOT of this while living in Atlanta, and I wonder if it's something about this city, or it's something to do with how people are in general. Before ending up in Atlanta, I was always more brave about attempting to do things, putting myself out there, and believing in at least trying to do the things I loved, if the worst thing that would happen was it would make you look silly. I suppose it comes out of having a performance background, where you are encouraged on a daily basis to try, to make mistakes, to explore new things, and to not be insecure or prideful enough to be humiliated and hide under your bed if what you produced sucked. I spent a lot of time in a world where art was more about creation and less about judgment....and it hurt me terribly after a few years in Atlanta, where I didn't have that around me. Even though I wasn't even *creating* art, I found I was always being judged, picked apart, criticised; for the good things I tried to do, for the bad things, for just being me. And most of it was done behind my back by people I considered "friends". I've even dated a few people who, every time I shared an idea, thought, plan, or dream, would only ever respond with something negative.

It's made me more inhibited, more fearful, more insecure. It's made me factor "What will other people say/think?" into the equation before I do anything, and that leads me to edit myself more, to let other people into my life less, and to fear being myself because that might lead to being laughed at, talked about, or put down.

It makes me angry to see these women, who have many things going for them and none of whom are exceptionally and uniquely gifted in any way, fight to overcome their insecurities by not being able to appreciate or support anyone else's endeavours. It makes me wonder if that's what we all do to one another in this world, and why that type of unkindness is tolerated.

We're all fragile, and we're all insecure. Putting others down and cheering for them to fail can cause greater damage than people realise. It makes me very sad, Real Housewives Of Atlanta.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I will start this off by apologising to anyone who may be offended by my views. If you find positive things in whatever you've found in your life to make you feel like a better and stronger person, that's great, and I am not belittling it. I am just sharing some of the thoughts and doubts I personally have, and sharing why it doesn't work for *me*. Your experience may vary. :)

I am really wondering what our society's preoccupation with positivity is.

Really, it seems fake, hypocritical, and a host of other adjectives that you can insert here to get the point that I just don't like it. It's kind of like how Americans are so hung up on weight, our celebrities are airbrushed, starved, and liposuctioned, we show pictures of models in our advertisements that are so altered even the models don't look that way and tell our children that's how they're supposed to look if they want to be happy, and we've turned "fat" into a dirty word. Nevertheless, 80% of Americans are either overweight or obsese. It's ludicrous.

I look at the "positivity" trend in the same way. I've had some strong disagreements with people over "The Secret", and other books/lectures that espouse the idea that you can have all you've ever wanted if you have a positive attitude. I must feel strongly about it, or have views that are offensive, because I've lost friends/acquaintances due to my opinions on the subject. But, somehow, I think they're not entirely wrong (my opinions, that is.).

My personal skepticism towards this type of thinking has nothing to do with disliking positivity. Looking at things from a glass-half-full perspective can help keep a person *in* perspective. Remembering you're not the only person on earth and other people face challenges far more difficult than yours on a daily basis is good for people; otherwise, we'd probably all behave like self-absorbed jerks all the time. Not to mention, it's been proven that a positive attitude helps people suffering from terminal illnesses to have a longer, better quality of life. Yes, I'm actually an advocate of looking at the positive side of things.

I'm also an advocate of realism. Are you really going to tell someone going through an immense grief in their life to "cheer up and look at the positive side of things?". Would you tell someone who was mugged, beaten, raped,spit on, discriminated against, or a victim of any number of the unfair things that happen to people in life that they invited that into their life by not putting out enough positive energy? It seems, more often than not, the "you get what you put out in the world" way of thinking often leads to that "blame the victim" scenario. ("I don't feel sorry for that homeless guy, he wasn't even *trying* to get a job!") No, I know that's not what those books are espousing...but they don't attempt to address the fundamental truth about life (most religions have the same problem, as it's an inconvenient truth that no amount of faith or positive thinking or liking of oneself will overcome:

It doesn't matter how much you smile, or pray, or put good energy out in the world...life is not fair, is not always just, and bad things happen to good people.

Sure, having faith and praying, or smiling and trying to look on the bright side can help you get through bad times. Believing in and liking yourself and holding fast to the idea that if you do good things, good karma will come back to you, those things help you become a better and more resilient person.

But if all we had to do to be happy was think happy thoughts, children wouldn't get killed in drive-by shootings. If all we had to do to be rich was really,really want it, most of us would be Bill Gates right now. This "positive thinking" phenomenon sets people up with the expectation that if you're the best person you can be, good stuff will fall into your lap. And that may be true *sometimes*. It is also true that you'll get crap that's unfair and you DON'T have to smile about it, and really, is smiling about the negative things that are a part of everyone's human experience going to make you that much happier?

I'm on Facebook, and have around 1000 "friends" (i.e. acquaintances and a few real friends). The other week, someone wrote in response to a "Having a good day" status message, something to the effect of "Will wonders never cease! You finally have a positive message here!". This is not the first time this has happened. I've gotten sarcastic messages, I've gotten de-friended..all for the crime of not being consistently positive.

I went back and took a look at myself, and thought, "Self, maybe these people have a point.". But after reading over a month or so worth of status messages, I realised, only 25% of them were positive. Then again, only 25% of them were negative. 50% of the messages were either not expressing an emotion, factual in nature, or mentioning one "good" and one "bad" thing.

And, yet, I keep getting messages (always from people who don't know me, funnily enough) telling me to count my blessings, keep things in perspective, or stop whining. Actually, I'd say I *am* the one in perspective. Whether it's in FB and Twitter nowadays, or on blogs and AIMs back in the day, I've always kind of lived my life online. I've never felt the need to apologise for showing all aspects of the human experience, good or bad, or to edit my feelings to make myself appear more likeable. I'd like to think I'm kind of an artist in that way, and also, insecure and uncertain as I may be, a very authentic person.

What I can't understand is this: Why is the world so challenged by negativity? There are emotions and experiences that happen to almost all of us that are not positive, that are not fair, that are not easy, and shouldn't people share those things every bit as much as the good things, if not more? After all, people don't need so much emotional support when they're happy.

It's almost as if it's threatening that I would share the parts of my life or the feelings that aren't pretty, or people are not supposed to talk about. What exactly would be the point of years and years of putting myself out there and sharing my life if I only shared every good, happy, positive, life-affirming, grateful-to-be-alive feeling or moment in my life? I do have plenty, and I do share them. But I also share the other parts of the rainbow when it comes to thoughts and feelings. Isn't it all part of the human experience? And doesn't it send a pretty sad message that my "friends" would not be interested in my journey through the human experience, but instead, would only like to hear the parts that make them feel better?

Back in the years I maintained Uninhibited, I put a *lot* of myself out there to people I didn't know. Perhaps it was because it was therapeutic to me, perhaps it was just because I was doing it when not many people were, when "reality TV" and "blogs" and "camgirls" were all kind of new to the scene, and there was something about that kind of raw expression/voyeurism that really appealed to me. I didn't edit all that much about my life, and I suppose, looking back, it was a little reckless, young, and stupid. I wasn't prepared to open up my e-mail and read judgments from strangers, hate mail, and other stuff that came with the territory. But I also wasn't prepared to get e-mails from strangers who'd lost their loved ones, gone through breakups, survived abuse, struggled with eating disorders and self-esteem issues, tried to conquer depression and self-destructive behaviours, and a host of other things...strangers that said "I think it's courageous to be so open in front of everyone, and it made me feel better to see a stranger I don't know is feeling some of the same things."

Sharing negativity and pain works the same way as sharing positivity, growth, and excitement. It makes people think about themselves, about others, and that when it comes down to it, despite our differences, human beings are all mostly the same. I don't think a person should dwell in negativity or self-pity, but I do think there's validity in acknowledging and sharing all kinds of feelings and experiences.

If we're all happy and positive and secure when we try to focus on feeling those things and sharing them with others, and part of that is that we never admit to or discuss the bad, sad, angry, depressed, hurt, self-loathing pieces, are any of us really growing, or just learning to repress more? Maybe a lot of people would feel better about themselves if they knew they weren't the only ones who didn't love life all the time, or had a dark secret, or didn't know how to be happy. And if this "be happy, and good stuff will happen, and then you'll be happy for real!" idea really works, isn't it kind of like telling people to "Fake it until you make it" rather than being real?

If only focusing on and sharing the happy parts of life is what helps make everyone so happy, why are we a society of repressed, depressed, discontent people buying books on the secret to being happy?

I think there's enough unrealistic expectations out there. Don't add to it by giving people the burden of thinking they should feel positive and happy and grateful and confident all the time, and if they don't, something is wrong with them. Life is often difficult, but also often very rewarding. Sometimes we get what we want, and other times we don't. Sometimes, bad things happen to us and we don't deserve them. Other times, good things happen and we don't deserve them either. And most importantly, no matter what we're going through, we're not alone or unique in that feeling or experience or challenge...and people need to hear that, rather than feeling guilty for not being happy enough, not healing well enough, not liking themselves enough.

In my view of the world, that's the real "secret".

One of the many quirks of being me is the firmly important place that music holds in my life. Beyond liking music, or always hearing songs in my head, there's actually a soundtrack to my life. I forget about that sometimes, and then, when I find myself in a strange mood, I spend some time with my Ipod.

Just about every person who's ever been anyone meaningful in my life, at any point, has a song. I might not think about that person for literally years, but if I hear the song, a thousand memories of that person will instantly come back. Even if that person is someone I don't think of too fondly, or is not a part of my life anymore, the memories attached to the song will almost always have a positive feeling to them, even the sad ones. (There are a few people for whom I am not ready for this phenomenon to apply to, and their songs are avoided as much as possible. *laughs*)

It's the same with events. Hearing a song I've attached to a certain moment from my life will bring back that moment in vivid detail, even from my childhood. It's amazing the evocative power music has in our lives.

Tonight, I was feeling a little down, so I spent some quality "me" time...reading the last book in the Twilight series and listening to my Ipod. I happened to turn on Coldplay, and instantly, my brain played a montage of scenes from my life (or at least the past 10 years), kind of like you'd see in a movie. They were, of course, all memories of moments I was listening to that song, which brought back memories of who and where I was at that particular point.

After that, I ended up purposely listening to songs that reminded me of different people and places in my life...and instead of feeling sad (as some of those memories were not the happiest), I somehow felt less alone. I was reminded that, despite some of the crazy, hurtful "down" times, I've really lived an amazing life. Not amazing to anyone but me, of course, as it's just a perfectly ordinary life...but one that's been filled with an abundance of life, and love, and adventure, and friendship, and family. Of course, it's also been filled with the negatives attached to all of those things; but sometimes, in my overall reflection process, I'm sure it's all been worth it. And rather than feeling sad or remembering the things I've lost or the sacrifices and challenges that may have left scars, I feel really blessed.

If the past almost-three-decades are any indication, when I die, I'm not going to be one of those people who feel they missed out on the chance to live. Sometimes, I'm strangely reminded of what a gift that is...and that not everyone can say that.

This all seems appropriate because a strange phenomenon has been happening in my life lately. While I've been concentrating on moving forward in my life (and not always feeling so optimistic about the path or the future), the past has seemed to want to pop up in the oddest places. In the past month, I've been contacted by two old friends I was once rather close with, but fell out of communication over the years. An ex-boyfriend and my old roommate both announced their engagements. And another old friend/roommate/whatever, who randomly popped up in my life and helped initiate some really positive changes for me years ago, suddenly announced he's moved back to Atlanta. And because in my world view, most things happen for a reason, I can't help but wonder what it is that is bringing all these unrelated people from my past into my conscious present, at the same time.

It seems somehow important that it's happened at the same time I've been having difficulties in my relationship with The Guy I Am Currently Dating, mostly due to thinking/talking about the future and whether or not we're heading in the same direction...and that I've also been going through a crisis of sorts, realising I'm no longer a young person and feeling like I'm running out of time to accomplish all the things I might want to; to find a purpose, a career, to be loved, to travel, to make a mark on the world that will help me be remembered positively when I am no longer here.

In my mind, I am not thinking about freaking out over being 30, but picturing me at 50,60,80. It isn't the first time I've contemplated aging and mortality, and that I might die one day. In fact, I've been pretty convinced for many,many years that I would not live past 30. But I've been freaking out because this is the first time I'm contemplating the alternative; that I am going to be here, that I am going to grow old, and ordinary, just like everyone else...and I am not prepared for that, I never saw that happening to me, and what am I supposed to do with the next 50 years of my life? I remember a time when the plan seemed to be to live life as thoroughly and carelessly as possible, try to create something memorable, meet a lot of people who saw my wonderful qualities and made me feel loved, and to die while I was still young, energetic, attractive, and unconcerned about the future or practicalities of life.

There was never a plan for what happened when that phase of life was over. There was never a plan for what happened after I stopped trying to "find myself" and the myself I was stuck with actually had to live an independent, adult, meaningful life.

I think that's been freaking me out a lot lately. So, I think it's pretty great of the Universe to remind me of how many life-changing experiences, things, and people have passed through my life along the way so far....and how many might be yet to come.

I wonder if eventually, I'll run out of cool songs for all of them.

Since moving into my new apartment, I've been experiencing some major motivational problems. In fact, I've just become flat-out lazy.

I blame some of this on the fact that people *are* influenced by their surroundings, and my roommate is probably the laziest person I've ever met. Though he often complains about how much he works, he hasn't worked more than 35 hours a week since we've moved in here. On the days he doesn't work, he sleeps 12 hours and plays poker in his PJ's the other 12. Sometimes he'll be in a vegetative state on the couch, or actually leave the house to play poker...but he doesn't do chores without being asked, and the things it is his responsibility to handle, I usually have to ask/remind him 4 times before he does it.

He's improved since the last time we lived together----he didn't even get out of bed to help us on the day I moved out--- but I do not know a person who wastes more time doing relatively nothing.

I'm usually not like this. I try to have a lot of energy, and sleep maybe 6 hours a night. I make a "to-do" list about all the things I'd like to do during my day. I'm happiest when I work all day and then have events to attend at night. At any given time, I have about 5 unfinished projects I'm working on. The most slothful thing about me is that I'm addicted to TV.

Since moving in here, though, some days, I wear my PJ's all day, or get up at noon on a weekday. I'm not sure why, other than I can, and nobody cares. At first, it seemed reasonable...I started working late at night, until 3 or 4 in the morning, so it was OK to sleep a little later. But, now, I stay up until 4 watching DVDs from Blockbuster, and still sleep until noon. When I'm up, I never feel like taking the dog out in the morning. I haven't been reading, writing, drawing, studying up on my trivia, listening to new music, blogging, or any of my other many hobbies. My Meetup box is about 3 weeks behind. I gave up on cleaning/organizing my new apartment when I realised it would always look ghetto and disgusting. I only eat food that takes 10 minutes or less in the microwave. And I'm not going out as much, either...I routinely turn down invites to clubs, dinners, poker, whatever, if it happens during the week. I started doing that so I would not be spending money, but now, I think it's just laziness.

As a result, I've become fat,boring, and lethargic. I'm not sure what happened, or why. It's just too easy to stay in the apartment all the time when even leaving the complex requires a mile walk. Why go out in the cold when you don't have to? As a result, my body shivers and feels pain when it's 55 out.

I don't like this new me, and I don't like where I live. I used to be excited to get up and go out into the world every day, to have a list of things to accomplish, to be on top of chores around the house or spend time out with my friends. It's like every time I live in a place I don't really like, that's difficult for me to get around, with this particular roommate, my spirit goes missing for awhile. :( I don't know why. Maybe it's just frustration; this realisation that even though I am always doing a lot of things, everyone thinks I'm lazy and not willing to fix my own problems, and that's why I'm stuck with the same ones. All the things I do never get me anywhere, so why not be like other people who feel the same way,and just stay home and watch TV?

It's like I'm not really excited by anything anymore. I'm not getting to live life the way I'd like to, so I'm giving up and not participating at all. It's kind of like house arrest, only nobody's telling me to stay inside my little bubble.

I can only imagine what December's going to be like, if I am here by myself, and don't go home for the holidays. *shakes head* I need to get a job that requires going out of the house every day, and live in a place that not only requires I walk/take the train to get around, but isn't a 2-3 mile prospect that exhausts me to think about. This suburban thing just isn't working for me.
'

I am not an organised person.

For most of my life, I've suffered with a brain that is chaotic and tangential in how it operates. And, for as long as I can remember, I've always felt a little overwhelmed and stressed by the fact that my brain consists of millions of random pieces of information all swimming around in a random fashion. Especially when I have a lot to do...I know I have a lot to do, and keeping a mental catalogue of those things ends up with me feeling anxious and overwhelmed. ("I'm going to forget something", "I'm not going to get all this done", "This is never going to all work out.)

I know this is not a new thing in my life. My childhood and adolescence were marked by notes from teachers that said, "Alayna is a bright and creative student who is well-liked by her peers. However, we are very concerned with her lack of organisational skills." I was the person who was 15 minutes late for everything, and when you opened my locker or backpack or closet, you'd wish you didn't. At one point, in my college years, my advisor even mentioned that I might have some form of ADD, between the overactive thought processes, the disorganisation, and the fact that conversations with me sometimes go a million MPH, and change topics very frequently. (I doubt ADD is to blame, as I also have the tendency to sit and focus obsessively on one thing, often for 8-12 hours at a time, and will be annoyed at any interruption that breaks my train of thought.)

Throughout my life, I've received calendars,planners, watches, file folders, and anything and everything that might help me organise my life. Most of these devices either got lost, or I just never wrote anything in.

Then, about 3 years ago, I found comfort in a very un-Alayna-like solution: lists. It's interesting, but lists somehow make my life more manageable, and calm down feelings of chaos and anxiety when there are too many things to do. The grocery store, which I've never liked going to, and would always end up forgetting why I went there in the first place after spending $60 on things I didn't think I needed, suddenly became less daunting with lists.

Even if my brain still goes a million MPH, writing things down and crossing them off makes me feel productive, and like I don't need to stress as much. My lists are often far from organised...just collections of things on the back of envelopes or index cards...but whenever I notice myself feeling really stressed and overwhelmed by life, making them really helps.

It's funny, because people always compliment me on being organised and on top of things, and have even said they'd want to hire me as a personal assistant. In reality, though, this has been a lifelong struggle for me, and whenever I'm in a situation where there is a time constraint, too many things to do, or need to find solutions for problems quickly, I get very stressed, anxious, and impatient with others. It's as if this kind of thing puts me in a crisis mode, where everything will fall apart if not handled properly. If others ever perceive me as being "on top of things", it's only because being that way keeps me from crying and yelling at people. I like to feel in control of my life as much as possible, because I really don't most of the time. But who'd have thought that making a list of everything around the house that's empty would help me feel that way? Interesting.

I suppose "paramedic" should be crossed off my list of potential career paths. *laughs*

I had planned for today's blog to be about laziness, and my recently-discovered addiction to a silly Facebook game. Instead, that entry has been pre-empted due to me feeling very upset and conflicted over a situation that just occurred.

Lately, I've been having some serious doubts/sad feelings regarding my relationship with The Guy I Am Currently Dating. We've been together for some time now, and I guess we've reached that point where things aren't quite as new and special, and as a result...as so often happens in my relationships...I've begun to feel neglected, and a little emotionally taken for granted.

It is lousy timing, because in general,I've felt very isolated and alone lately. I've noticed that my phone doesn't ring as often, and people I thought were my friends don't bother sending an e-mail or making a phone call once they don't need me anymore, because they've moved away, or gotten a girlfriend.I've noticed that if *I* don't initiate planning events, very rarely does anyone get in touch just to see what I'm doing. I've started to feel isolated and unpopular, and between that, and spending so much time alone every day now that I *actually* work from home and I have a roommate who sometimes goes two or three days without interacting with me, I've become really depressed/melancholy. I know it's not the case, but I feel like even though I know a zillion people, those who really care are few and far between.

The Guy I Am Currently Dating says he's been stressed out, but I've told him a few times I feel like things have been different between us lately. He used to text me 50 times a day, send e-mails and FB messages, and call in the middle of the day. Now, we exchange e-mails that often consist of: "Good morning", "Going to lunch", "In a meeting", "Going to dinner", and calling me to say good night. I don't feel like talking to me is such a priority for him anymore, and when we do talk, we don't always "connect". He's assured me nothing is wrong, that I am important to him, that he's always thinking of me...but I don't know how to explain how alone I feel, and that part of that is because I don't feel like connecting and sharing with me is so important to him anymore.

I was looking forward to dinner tomorrow night with him. I've been doing this Buckhead Life Gift Card thing...every month, you get a $30 gift certificate to eat at an upscale restaurant...and you have to go to every restaurant, in order to receive the next month's. This month was Chops Lobster Bar, a fairly pricey steak and seafood place, and after consulting they had AlaynaCompatible food, I was excited to go. Even though we celebrated his birthday last Friday, it was still "special occasion" enough for us to go to this nice restaurant on his actual birthday.

At 1 AM on Friday morning, he calls to tell me "Remember how you said if we didn't hang out one day this weekend so I could celebrate my b-day with my mom, that was OK? Well, I figured we wouldn't hang out tomorrow. Sorry for the late notice."

I was really upset because what I had said, last weekend, was perhaps he could do that on SATURDAY, as I was invited to a girls' night thing, and Friday could be our night. I even recall telling him about the restaurant. I also said for him to let me know, and when time went by and he didn't, I assumed we still had plans.

He said he was sorry, he didn't know we had firm plans, and there was confusion about his mom wanting to do something. Why couldn't he just tell her, "Sorry, but Alayna and I already made plans that day?" It's clear that he prefers to spend his birthday with his mom and is OK with leaving me alone to do that. And, if that's the case, I can only assume that's the case with Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year, and every other holiday...and I think, as much as I like him, if that's the way it is, it is a deal breaker for me. I already dated one guy who left me alone and miserable every holiday because he was with his family, and his family made it clear I was not welcome. The whole time, for years, something said, "If this guy really cared about me, it wouldn't be like this".

I'm older and wiser now, and I know it *shouldn't* be like that. If it is, I need to know now, because I can't continue the relationship.

On top of it all, I told him I had tickets to Star 94's Little Black Dress Party next Thursday, and it was the kind of thing that girls either brought their best friend or their date to, so I asked him to go with me. He indicated he didn't want to, because it was on a Thursday...and it just made me think. How many days am I going to have to be alone if I stay in a relationship with this guy? Nobody knows what the future holds, but I anticipate in my life, there will probably be a lot of parties, a lot of dinners, a lot of events...especially if I find a career path in the entertainment/hospitality world. Will I always need to have a backup date? And, if so, why doesn't the person I'm dating like me enough to always want to attend things with me?:(

I guess this is one of the things that I feared in entering a monogamous relationship...that there wasn't any one person who would always want to do things/go places/ be with me. When you are openly dating more than one person, you're free to say, "Since you're busy and can't go, I'm going to take this person as my date to this thing". I had hoped maybe my fears would be unfounded, and even though I know we don't always have the same interests, The Guy I Am Currently Dating and I would just always go to each other's events.

I'm not really an alone kind of girl. I firmly admit to being co-dependent. I don't *like* being alone, even though I can manage just fine. But I always feel life is better in the non-singular form. I don't want our relationship to end. But I also don't want to sit at home with a frozen TV dinner, alone, every time there is a holiday or special occasion he *has* to celebrate with his mother. I don't even want to spend those days with other friends...not because I don't know how to be independent, but because I think relationships are about spending those special days TOGETHER. I want to be with someone who is unobligated and free to be with *me*. And that may be selfish, but my whole life, I've had relationships with people who were "unavailable"....living across the country, obligated to a family who didn't welcome or accept me, married or had kids, always on the road for work,not willing to committ to a "relationship"... and it left me alone many holidays, far from my family and friends, with a TV dinner, movie, and a box of tissues. I've gotten to the point where I'm far more familiar with feeling sad because I am missing someone than I am actually being with them. I so often dread holidays, because they're synonymous with me feeling alone and unloved.

It means a lot to me in my life to find a relationship with someone where it doesn't have to be like that, someone who really just wants to spend those days with *me*, because that's part of what life should be about.

I guess I want the kind of relationship I've never really found in my life, with someone who is not only a best friend, but like family...the kind of family that doesn't leave you alone with TV dinners. Maybe that's very idealistic, and many people never find that, but for me, it's worth believing in and waiting for. (like a zillion other idealistic and perhaps unattainable views I have on life.) There are some fundamental ideals in my world I just don't feel right in compromising, because part of me isn't sure I should have to. This is one of them.

I don't know if I can make it work with yet another person who needs to leave me at home alone while he spends holidays with his real family. I'm willing to make a lot of compromises and let a lot of things go to make relationships work, but this is one thing I just can't. And I honestly don't know if I see this working out any other way. :(

I just got through reading a thoroughly enjoyable book called "The Overachievers: Secret Lives Of Driven Kids", by Alexandra Robbins. Robbins is an investigative journalist and author, and now that I've read all her stuff, I'm rather disappointed she hasn't written more.

I read her most well known novel, "Pledged", where she went undercover to write about the realities of sorority/Greek life, back in 2005, and she immediately became one of my favourite authors. Outside of Elizabeth Wurtzel, there's no author who so honestly relates the everyday struggles of overachieving, self-doubting, discontent, overstressed Generation Y-ers in America today. She's managed to make a number of enemies (she was also the reporter who broke the story in the media that G.W. Bush had mediocre SAT scores.), but it's largely because she writes about the truths so much of our society just doesn't talk about.

Many of my friends are very intelligent, very driven, very creative, very competitive overachievers who never seem to feel truly comfortable with who they are, what they have, or where they are going. I also have a number of friends who are equally intelligent, creative, and driven to succeed...and yet somewhere along the line, made the choice to rebel, to define "success" as something different from what others told them it should be.

I've spent my whole life vacillating between the two groups. I learned to read at the age of two, and took the SAT's for the first time when I was 11. I can sing, dance, play a few instruments, speak a few languages, and still managed to cultivate fairly decent social skills. I did the debate club, cheerleading, colour guard, choirs, orchestras, student councils, etc., etc., etc, and began working in professional theatre pretty early on.

What I didn't do was studying. I wrote papers the hour before they were due, didn't read any of the assigned books that looked boring, and copied my friends' math homework IN math class. I was an honour student through high school and college. But I didn't care about most of what I was required to learn because it seemed pointless, like busy work. It was more interesting to me to "experience" than to "achieve".

It isn't that I don't like learning. I've always read just about anything I could get my hands on, and if something interested me, I simply found a way to teach myself about it. During my summers as a child, I always took a few weeks out to go to "genius camp" (my nickname for the Center For Talented Youth, a program that let 12-16 year olds take courses for college credit), to Governor's School, to drama camp, and other things that helped me discover myself and learn that, yes, I could do things. I am an innately curious person who likes to see and think and discover and experience as much as possible.

I just never understood how I could do that through "competing", and so I didn't. I was always sent home with notes and called into the principal's office to discuss why I didn't apply myself, why I didn't push myself to succeed. I always felt like if I could get an 89 on something I didn't care about without trying, why should I work to get a 99, and miss out on *life* in the process?

And yet, many of my friends who did apply themselves and did follow the pre-programmed path, are much more successful...in certain ways. Certainly, they are making more money, feel more confident in their abilities, and still believe in sticking to the upwardly mobile pre-programmed track. I'm envious of that in many ways; they worked harder than I did, and didn't make the mistakes I did. And, yet, in other ways, I feel ways in which they tell me themselves they feel limited, stifled, not completely aware of who they are or if they're able to choose what they really want. In the recent economic downturn, many of them have had to deal with the fact that they aren't being rewarded for sticking to the plan, for making sacrifices and working hard and overachieving, in quite the way they'd hoped.

Sometimes, I'm annoyed, because not following the path means you can't hop back on it when an interesting opportunity catches your attention. Many times I've seen a job and thought, "I could do wonderfully at this", and I could...but nobody will ever know, because I don't have the right credentials, the right connections, the right experience, the right facts on paper. I firmly believe I can learn, or teach myself, to do well at almost anything, as long as I care about it enough to want to do well...which has always been the tricky part.

I think I was about 9 when I decided the Path Of Overachievement wasn't for me. We had to write reports on basic information about the States, and I simply decided not to. It wasn't an act of rebellion; I just didn't care. I knew all the information, I could recite all the important facts, and I could write well. I just didn't understand why I should waste my time on busy work when I could be exploring things I really was curious about. I got a D in elementary school Geography. Somehow, things never changed. I barely passed a basic college math requirement, even though my numerical average was near 100. (I'd figured if I knew the material, there was no point in going to a required 8 AM class. Unfortunately, it was one of those that docked you 5 points every time you *didn't* go to class. Ooops.)

In some ways, I suppose I just always wanted freedom. I wanted to be an individual, to succeed only if I was really good at something, not because I pushed myself to feel compelled to be good at everything. I wanted to do things that made me a happy person,that let me be authentic and find myself, that I actually cared about. I didn't want to sit around crying every day of my life that I wasn't as good as someone thought I should be.

It didn't work. There are still days I don't want to go to a social event because I'm not as pretty or as well-liked as other people. I still hide my art in the closet and my poems under the bed. There are still things I am good at that I don't do at all because I learned I'm not as good as other people, or even as I'd like to be. I still have problems in relationships because I can't understand why someone would choose to love *me* when there are better options out there. I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up,or even if I'm good enough at *anything* to be *anything*, much less what makes me happy. I don't apply for jobs because I know my resume doesn't make me look as capable as I know I am. I feel the same doubts and insecurities as most of my friends in hyper-competitive corporate jobs, I just have far less money and far more free time. I am a perfectionist who decided I did not want to be, and yet, 20 years later, I am often ashamed of who I am because it's not as good as I thought it would be. Ironically I am not ashamed of my mistakes, my unconventional choices, the things others might tell me to be ashamed of. I am simply insecure and ashamed in moments when I realise I'm not as special, not as extraordinary as I always thought I should be.

I've travelled, I've led an interesting life, and despite the mistakes and regrets, I think I like that it hasn't been boring. I think I almost even like knowing that if and when I do find what makes me happy, and accomplish it, it will have to be on a path of my own making. Once, someone told me I created obstacles for myself because I didn't care about doing anything unless there was some obstacle to fight against. I have always been my own greatest obstacle. I didn't write my Geography reports, or go to an Ivy League school, or get married and have a few overachieving kids. I didn't thrive in corporate America, or consider myself academic enough for a graduate degree, or believe in myself enough to see if I could become a famous actor. Instead, I am still looking...and at the end of my 20's, I'm starting to feel I've run out of places to find myself, things I might be good at.

It would be interesting to see Alexandra Robbins revisit the teenagers in the book in 10 years, see if they ever "found" who they are or where they fit in, or came to the conclusion that there were worse things in the world than being average. Because I'd certainly imagined I'd have things figured out by now, if you asked me 10 years ago!

In the past few years, I've met a few acquaintances....some with degrees from pretty prestigious schools, or impressive resumes...who've echoed many of these sentiments. It reassured me, in a way, to meet people who've said they don't want to compete, want to work for personal fulfillment rather than towards goals or money or acclaim, want to reclaim a sense of individualism and creativity they didn't even know they had. Harvard, especially, seems to be a breeding ground for this sort of 'overachiever rebellion'.

The problem is, if you're not a worker bee, you don't get to live in the hive. And though you may have more freedom to fly wherever you want to, it's a little more scary and lonely and uncertain. You miss knowing you're not alone, or the security of travelling in a pack. It's far easier to lose your way when there's no one to ask if you're really lost, or just exploring.

Sometimes, I wish I had a hive to belong to. :/

This past weekend was a surprise b-day dinner for The Guy I Am Currently Dating. I'd originally wanted to plan a gathering at a restaurant, because he knows different people from different groups, and getting most of them together is tricky. However, he mentioned he didn't want to do anything that was a big deal, because he was uncomfortable with all the attention, so I'd settled on the idea of a small dinner for closer friends.

I mentioned this to my friend V, who then offered to host a small dinner at her place, which is very well suited for entertaining and seemed like the perfect solution. V is a wonderful event planner who runs another Meetup here in Atlanta, and who has been a great friend to me over the past two years. Like me, she spent time working in the cruise entertainment field, has travelled a great deal, and can be either very charming or extremely highly strung, depending on what day you catch her. One of the things I've noticed about her is that if you have a project/event idea, she will offer to help...and that is absolutely the last you will see of your project. The dinner she hosted for The Guy I Am Currently dating was really a lovely experience and I think he liked it a lot, but it saddened me because *I* wanted to put in the effort for doing something nice for him, and in the end, I wasn't really allowed to do much. :(

There were, of course, a few complications. I should have known this would be the case when the party was rescheduled for Sept. 11th! *laughs* I'd been keeping the "surprise" dinner a secret for weeks, only to have him call me two days beforehand and say, "I've been sick this week. Maybe we shouldn't go over to V's house on Friday". ARRRRRGH! So, neeedless to say, the surprise was a little less surprising than it should have been. Also, two hours beforehand there was some drama with a very good friend who called to say, "I'm not feeling well, so I don't think I'm coming, but maybe I'll stop by for a drink." I was mildly annoyed by this, because it was two hours before the party, and he was cancelling on a 5-course dinner prepared for a specific number of people. I did appreciate that it was important to him to stop in and wish Happy Birthday to The Guy I Am Currently Dating, but felt less empathy when I learned his not feeling well was due to staying out late drinking the previous evening. ((1) If you're making a committment to do something, be responsible enough to not get so drunk/hungover the previous day that you can't keep your committments. (2) If you know this is a problem, it's probably better to let people know at the beginning of the day, not two hours in advance. I'd heard this friend called other people to say "I'm thinking of not going..." before he called us, which seemed pretty inconsiderate.) Anyhow, needless to say, I was annoyed, and knew V would be extremely pissed despite any apologies or explanations, so I told this friend to call her.

He did, and the hour before and first hour of the party were filled with phone calls and text messages from both of them, telling me how inconsiderate and self-centred the other person was. (In the past, these two friends have had falling-outs that have resulted in not speaking to each other for weeks.) Fortunately, they somehow patched things up, and this friend ended up coming to the party, albeit an hour late. All in all, I wasn't in the festive party mood I should have been. I've noticed a theme when I plan events, in that I get all of the grief but very little of the credit. If things don't work out well, though, that is almost always my fault, and I get e-mails and comments on the website for two weeks. It makes me think that despite being fairly good at it, I could never be an event planner. I simply don't have enough of the people-pleasing, team-player oriented personality.

Next weekend, which is The Guy I Am Currently Dating's *actual* birthday, I'm planning for us to go to dinner at a nice restaurant. That's the kind of low-stress celebration I like. *laughs*

Saturday night ended up being a fun night. An acquaintance of mine had been working on raising money for a cancer-related charity, and threw a party at East Andrews, featuring an Alice In Chains cover band and a Nirvana cover band. Both bands were fairly good, and the martinis were strong, and enough people showed up to make it a fun night! (though, when the 40-year-old couple sitting in our booth...who were apparently not a couple, but met an hour previously at another bar...were practically dry humping each other in the booth, I kind of wanted to be somewhere else.)

A decade or so later, Nirvana has this strange infectious energy...despite being rather depressing...that always appealed to me (and many,many other people) when I was younger. It was funny to watch a room full of drunken 30-year-olds jumping up in the air, chest bumping, and head-banging to "Smells Like Teen Spirit".

I wonder whatever happened to Teen Spirit. It just sort of disappeared. Take notice, annoying-but-trendy Axe Deodorant. :)

September has proven to be a very busy month, and I don't know how it is possible that it's flying by as quickly as it is. It just seems like it was the end of August, and now we're almost halfway through September. I still have e-mails I've not responded to from the beginning of August; I told myself "As soon as I have unlimited internet access again, I'll catch up on that." Well, I do, and it seems I'm always on my computer, and yet the e-mails have not answered themselves.

DragonCon was really an experience. There's no better way to describe it. Things I didn't like include: Waiting in incredibly long lines for seemingly everything (I leave Starbucks, Chick-Fil-A and clothing sales if the lines are too long. I hate DisneyAnything and amusement parks, and much of this is because of the lines. I don't eat anywhere that they tell me the wait is over 15 minutes.I am a largely impatient person.), standing/walking for hours on end (there was never any place to sit, and 5 times a day someone would say "You can't sit/stand here.". I wore flats and my feet were swollen and blistered,and by Sunday night, my bad knee had become very painful.), the Food Court (eating every meal in a hot,overcrowded place where you had to fight for table space and you couldn't get food the way you wanted it and they yelled out order numbers to a crowd of 100 people...getting food was like winning the lottery...was just not for me.), the people who didn't see the need to shower or Febreze their costumes, and the 29 minute wait for the MARTA train every night.

Things I did like included: Many of the panels (even though I'm not into almost all of the shows/movies we went to panels for, the actors seemed very personable and told fun stories. Some made me *want* to see the show.), the Dr. Horrible/Buffy sing-a-long (how can you not like musicals acted out at the same time it is on the big screen, and 2000 other people singing along?), Trader Vic's, the costumes, the people watching, the art gallery, and spending lots of time with The Guy I Am Currently Dating.

I didn't really make any new best friends, or even feel "at home" the way some other folks seem to. Oddly enough, DragonCon is a place where people...sometimes for the only time during the year...are free to be themselves, whatever that means, without judgment or ridicule. I think that's great,and yet, I felt *less* myself than I normally do. I suppose I am fortunate in that most aspects of my life just let me be me, and if it's a weird, or crazy,or high-maintenance part of me, it's usually accepted and understood. I have a really diverse social circle, very creative and driven friends, and don't work in Corporate America...so I suppose I'm fairly lucky. I'm pretty comfortable being me most of the time, and while my inner-rock-star might think dressing up as Cookie Monster is the most awesome thing in the world, I don't know I'd ever be as excited about it as some of the DragonCon peeps. I do admire the creativity and work and dedication...and time and money...that goes into the DragonCon experience, though.

I'd totally do it again next year, though with some modifications. No lines, staying in one of the hotels, taking naps, and finding non-food-court places to eat (or at least taking the food outside) would make a huge improvement in the experience for me, as things are more fun when I am not cranky. Many of my non-sci-fi-fan friends said they'd be into going next year (only a few said "What's wrong with you?" or "I feel so bad for you, having to spend a whole weekend at DragonCon!"), so I'd like to have a group plan to go. :)

I need to work on my energy level,though...I had no idea DragonCon would kick my butt, as I'm usually pretty energetic! Turns out, though, I'm not 21 anymore. Sigh. :P

I feel so much better about things now. :)

Maybe things will all be OK, after all. And my roommate figured out how to pay the rent on time, so I don't have to stress about that.

Time to relax....

As I'm sure some of you have already heard, this year, I'm spending my Labour Day weekend at DragonCon, a huge convention that happens in Atlanta every year, for people who are big fans of sci-fi/fantasy/comics/superheroes and all that related stuff. I am not, but for years, I've had friends who go and who have encouraged me to attend, "at least for the parties". So last year, I told The Guy I Am Currently Dating that if we were still together and I was still living in Atlanta, we'd go this year.

I'm feeling uncharacteristically nervous about this adventure. I'm not sure why, but for a few weeks, I've had it in my mind that it's not going to be a weekend of fun and drinking and quality time together (which it will be), but something that is threatening to me or to our relationship. I've even said, "I have a feeling that DragonCon is going to be the kind of thing that would cause us to break up."

I'm not sure why I feel that way. I think it was because last year, I went with The Guy I Am Currently Dating on the day that everyone picks up their badges, and I felt *sooooo* out of place. And though I think he realised this and tried to make me feel included, I mostly felt ignored and left out of the conversation, and, as always happens when I feel insecure and invisible, I just felt really badly and wanted to go home. (And, of course, it doesn't help when you're already feeling less than loved in a strange new place you don't fit in, that your boyfriend and all your guy friends are busy staring at geek girls in Duct Tape Costumes and other outfits that cover less than your average bikini.) After a few hours, I realised he'd have a lot more fun without me, and stopped feeling badly that I was going on a road trip with my old roommate and he was staying in town.

Maybe it will be a little different this year. I'm actually going to the event instead of just tagging along, and many of his friends and acquaintances who were strangers last year, I actually know. The Guy I Am Currently Dating, like me, runs a Meetup group, only his is for people who are fans of a sci-fi show called Firefly. I've been going to the monthly meetings with him for awhile, and while I wouldn't say I've made friends through the group, I have at least tried. I've made a lot of new acquaintances, but I still feel kind of an outsider when I go to the events. Not as much as I did a year ago, but, well...I'm an emotional and intuitive person, and there's just a certain feeling you get when you hang out with a group of people, and even though you go out of your way to try to be nice and get to know everyone, and nobody is mean to you, you still don't feel like you "fit in". A friend of mine commented that maybe it's a kind of karma for the times in my life when I've, either intentionally or by accident, made other people feel that way. But, sometimes, I get the feeling that The Guy I Am Currently Dating doesn't "fit in" with everyone in that group, either, and that maybe it's not just me. I wonder if he's started to feel less included, though, since I came around. I'd hate to think my natural ability to inspire dislike and annoyance in others without my being aware of it would get in the way of his social life. :(

I think another thing is that in my head, I'm already thinking about goodbye, and goodbye makes me very,very sad. Yesterday, The Guy I Am Currently Dating mentioned something about getting his ticket for next year's DragonCon...which tells me something very important; namely, he's planning on being here next year, even if I am not. :( It is hard to ignore the sadness when he plans for the future...one that doesn't include me. It's happened so many times in my relationships; I get attached to someone, only to realise they don't share that level of attachment, and are making their own life-without-Alayna plans. *shrugs* I guess I'm just an idealist, and I believe somewhere out there, there's someone who cares about me enough to want to be with me no matter what, even if it means changes, or moving, or turning the world upside down to make it happen.

So it makes me sad every time I'm reminded that my current relationship is many positive things...but it isn't that one thing I wish it *could* be. :/ And it will be hard for me to avoid thinking "This time next year, we won't be able to share these things or be together anymore." I didn't realise those thoughts would hurt quite as much as they do, and it surprises me.

I have never known how to enjoy the good times with someone, knowing that they are limited, and one day, won't be a part of my life anymore. I guess it's why I always start running away, preparing myself for being alone, as soon as I realise goodbye is a pretty good certainty.

I tried to cheer myself up today with walking, exercise, and shopping...thinking maybe the sad feelings would subside. It worked, until I got home and my new roommate told me he didn't have the money to pay the rent on time, so we had a problem.

Without problems and people, I think life might be pretty good. :P Time for dinner and reality TV, which help me avoid dealing with both. ;)

Something happens every year, at the end of August. Well, a few things, actually; I move, the summer starts to come to an end,and it rains more often. And, right around this time of year, I start to feel melancholy for no apparent reason.

It isn't the rain; I actually like and enjoy the rainy days we have now and then during the summer. But the arrival of autumn has always in my life signified change and transition, and I don't always do well with those things, even when they might be positive. I hang on to things that I don't always like and may not even be good for me; habits, friendships, cities, men...just because they are comfortable. Being vaguely discontented in comfortable surroundings is like home to me, which probably says something about my childhood. It is less scary than change, which, although I find exciting and full of freedom and possibility, I also find incredibly lonely.

For almost 8 years, I've lived in a city I'm not sure I like, I'm not sure fits me or my personality or what makes me happy in life. On top of all of that, I've had a lot of painful experiences and bad memories to associate with this city. And yet, when I brush aside the excuses...that this city is as good as any, that I can't afford to move or live the lifestyle I'd be happy with elsewhere, that I have friends or boyfriends or other people who'd be sad to see me go, that I have too many obstacles to make such a huge change...the truth is, I've never made the choice to leave. Not when I got dumped, or lost my apartment, or got fired, or I lost every single friend I knew in this city; all times that people might see as great "moving on" points. I just never have, and I am not sure why, other than Atlanta is a very cut-up,bandaged security blanket that's full of bad memories, but I am afraid to let go of and feel totally adrift.

Last night, while talking to a NYC-er who recently moved to Atlanta, I was reminded of how many things I miss about my friends and family, how I love New York, Philly, D.C...though I'm not convinced I see myself living in any of them. I was reminded of how I've never felt independent in Atlanta (mostly because not driving in a city characterised by urban sprawl is a huge limitation.), how I've never really felt excited by this city the same way I am when I first see New York or Philly or even D.C. (where I've never lived, but always feel comfortable.), how I've always felt a little bit of living here is compromise and pretending to be someone else.

And now, I realise I've been in yet another long-term relationship with a great guy that seems very positive for me and has made me feel so much more loved and protected than I have in a long time, and yet I can't let my guard down. I still can't think about the future or let myself think it's going to work out, because there's this piece of me that says, "I'm just going to get hurt because I don't want to stay here, but when I leave, he won't come with me." Part of me thinks it's best to run away now, because it's going to be harder in 6 months or a year or two, when I think it's time for life to take me someplace else, and I know that however much he cares about me and our relationship, it's not enough for him to want to change his entire life for. I don't want to get too close when I know a relationship has an expiration date, because it will either break my heart when I have to leave and say goodbye...or the alternative is I end up spending more of my life in a place I don't really think is right for me...and when the relationship ends, feeling like I always do, and repeating the cycle.

Throughout my life, I've always found ways to push away real, meaningful friendships and relationships because I was afraid of how much it would hurt to say goodbye...and part of me figures if I can do that on my terms, before I get too attached, it would be easier for me. I don't know that it ever is, though.

Change and goodbye are hard, no matter what...but it seems like they are one constant in life that can't be avoided, and you can't protect yourself from, no matter how hard you try.

Time to watch Big Brother now. More blogging tomorrow. :)

It has been a struggle for me to feel happy and optimistic about life. In fact, I feel as if all the good things in my life are changing, yet again, and what I'm left with isn't exactly positive. I feel really alone, and overwhelmingly depressed for the past few days.

I'm sure the main change has to do with my recent move. Saying goodbye to things is not my strong point, even though it seems I've spent most of my life doing it. It took me a while, but eventually, the apartment I'd been in for the past year and a half seemed like home to me. It was full of good memories, and warm comfortable things, and even though I had my ups and downs with my former roommate...and her dog....it was like an adopted family, which is important to me.

If I felt I was moving on to something better, I'd be happier, and before the move, I'd tried to look at it that way. After 6 months without such things, I'd finally have cable and internet. I could work on KGB whenever I felt like it, and wouldn't have to make the trek to the lab in the winter. And while it was a purely practical move to an apartment that was much cheaper and much less nice, I felt like it would help with my goals over the next year, and I could adjust.

I just didn't realise how much adjusting it would take, and how sad I'd initially feel. I know it's shallow, but I feel happy when my surroundings are nice, and when I have money to do the things I want to do. When I don't have those things, I feel extremely sad and dissatisfied with life. It is particularly hard for me when the place I live doesn't feel like home.

And it doesn't. In fact, this apartment is the most ghetto place I've lived in since the slumlord apartment over by GA Tech. The floors are uneven beneath the carpeting, my bathroom is the size of a closet (I have to install shelves and a medicine cabinet to give my stuff a home), the appliances are almost the same age as me, the walls are an appalling white with no moldings or decorations, and there's a never-ending number of kids and teenagers who sit on the front steps at all hours of the day.

Most people would probably say it's not that bad, and it's just a place to live, and it can be fixed up...and if I were living in New York, or London, or even D.C., I'd probably expect to have a crappy place much smaller than this one, and without the pool. But, I kind of feel like the only tradeoff I have for living in Atlanta is that I can find a nice place to live. I can entertain, and have a *home*, not an overpriced box. So, now that I don't really have that anymore, I feel completely miserable. I live in the suburbs..which I don't like; I live in a crap apartment I don't like at all; and I don't have a job I'm excited about or friends to go out with all the time..and even if I did, between the lack of money and trouble with the commute all the way out to where I live, I'd just stay home anyway.

It isn't what I want for my life, not any of it. So while it may not be the worst thing in the world, I just feel lost and sad because I don't want this. I want the things that are going to make me happy, and I can't have them because the mistakes I've made have made such things impossible. It is hard to be happy with what you have when it is so far away from what you want. :(


And one of the only good things I can count on to make me smile these days is that I've been in a strong relationship with a great guy for well over a year. Despite the fact that he knows I want to leave this city as soon as I can, and he doesn't know if that's what he'll ever want, somehow we've just ignored that inconvenient incompatibility. So, it does not help that over the past week The Guy I Am Currently Dating kind of just stopped being such a present force in my world. The Tuesday before my move, we had a situation where I visited, and his mother (who I think is overly clingy and emotionally volatile, and won't let her son grow up or have his own, independent life because she's terrified of being alone.) told me off. It started out because she said something about not liking my (former) roommate, who the woman has never met, because my former roommate was mad when The Guy I Am Currently Dating changed his mind two days before her moving date, and couldn't help her move after all. I stood up for my roommate, because in that situation, I'd be a little pissed too...and the next thing I know, the lady is telling me I'm demanding, and pushy, and she's tired of me causing tension between her son and her (what causes tension, IMHO, is that you don't treat your 40-year-old child like he's 16), and that he neglects her and his responsibilities to see me when he should only be seeing me once a week, and so on and so forth. She pointed out that I was not family, her son and I were not ever going on vacation together because we were not married, and I wasn't going to move into her house. (as if I'd want to live anywhere near her, at any point in my life.) The icing on the cake was when she said that I do nothing, that I don't even have a job and can't pay rent on time, and I should feel ashamed for having a guy take me out all the time.

I walked out, and in fairness, the Guy I Am Currently Dating did try to stand up for me, a little...but the next day, he was having dinner and watching a movie with her like nothing had ever happened. I felt really betrayed, even when he mentioned that she had gone to the hospital the previous night. I almost ended our relationship after the things she said to me, even though it hurt me a lot to think about, and it wasn't something I want...but what I want (for him to have a normal, balanced, non-interfering relationship with his mom that's kind of like everyone else's, and takes into account that he's his own person whose life isn't about keeping his elderly mother company.) doesn't seem possible. I feel like even if he were the perfect person for me, his mother's controlling and interfering and guilt trips would be enough for me to doubt things could ever work out. Unless we pack up and move a few hours away, I just don't see how it's going to resolve positively.

I think maybe I need someone who's a little like me, and stopped asking permission or caring what their parents thought about their choices when they were a teenager. It's good to love your parents, but it's not good to let them interfere with you living your life, judging your choices, or telling you you're not allowed to do things when you've long since been an independent adult. It's been a problem with me in past relationships, too. I'm not interested in dating anyone's mother, and while it would be nice to be liked and approved of, it's not essential. I can live without that, as long as people keep their nose out of my life.

I thought that dating an older guy might alleviate this problem, so it's almost funny to me that this has happened as it has.

Anyhow, since then, things have felt very tense and difficult between us. I feel like we're not talking, not communicating, and even though we've seen each other the same amount, I've just felt like some part of the normal connection we have has been disconnected. *frowns*

It has just been so long since I've felt so isolated, so out-of-control and disappointed in my life, so much like everyone else's life is moving forward in exciting new ways except for mine. I feel like I'm always being left behind, always left alone, and everything that ever feels the least bit secure is always as temporary as everything else.

And I'm kind of tired of all that, and just...sad.

YAY!! Only three more weeks until I'm in the new place, and hopefully (*fingers crossed*) have some sort of permanent internet solution.

I miss blogging. :( I guess we have a lot to catch up on....

Happy 4th Of July, everyone!!

It occurred to me that it's been a long time since I've updated on here, and I've missed sharing with all of you. I am so looking forward to August, when my computer situation will (hopefully) be fixed and the internet will again be a daily part of my life. Since we got rid of cable, I don't miss TV as much as I thought I would...after all, I do still get to see my favourite shows...but I miss having the internet around 24/7. The up side, though, is that I've been more dedicated to writing in my paper journal every day. Of course, you guys don't get to read that.

I'm home visiting family for a bit, and though, at first, I was excited to have some stress-free time where I didn't think about things that are stressful for me to deal with right now, and had absolutely nothing to do. Two weeks of reading books, watching TV, and listening to my Ipod sounded pretty good to me. Not to mention, there's junk food and a pretty well stocked liquor cabinet here.

However, less than a week in to my visit, I am now totally and completely bored.

Because I was bored, a few nights ago, I decided to plug in the desktop computer I used during my college years. It's a Pentium II and has never seen any internet that wasn't dial-up, so long ago, that computer..whom I've named Gramps...has long since been retired. I keep him around for sentimental reasons; it is the computer I used back when I was really into downloading from Napster and talking in chat rooms, and is filled with songs and other stuff that generally makes me smile every year or two when I decide to plug it in and explore it.

The funny thing about Gramps is that he is perpetually stuck in 2001. The last conversations on my ICQ and AIM show he hasn't been online since about 2 weeks prior to when I moved to Atlanta (I had a laptop, so that's what went with me.) There's no phone connection in my room here anymore, so nobody has even accidentally tried to connect him. He constantly lives in a world where it is always August,2001.

Because I was in that sort of mood, I ended up listening to some of the songs I loved back then, and reading old conversations with friends, including the guy I ended up moving to Atlanta for. Doing that is always a mixture of happy and sad, getting stuck in Gramps' world, where the last 8 years of my life have not yet existed. Gramps doesn't know how things worked out after I moved to Atlanta, the incredible difficulties and huge growth that marked my path through my 20's. All he seems to know is that life is good, there's a lot of love and excitement to be found in the world, and anything is possible.

I often remark that, even though I've been in Atlanta for quite some time, I don't particularly like it. I don't hate it, either, obviously, or I wouldn't keep finding things in my life and making plans that keep me there. But I often get excited about thinking over the prospect of starting my life over somewhere else, or spending time with those I love who live in other cities. Life in Atlanta seems transient; even though I've stayed for quite some time, every two years, it's a new apartment, a new job, a new circle of friends, a new relationship, perhaps even a new version of myself. Other people have come and gone with some frequency. Every turning point has been marked by some drama, either a really happy time for me, or something extraordinarily painful. And, yet, I always stay; I always start over; I always call this city I'm uncertain about my home.

I had this epiphany the other night, and it is that I stay because it isn't Atlanta I don't like. Sure, I could live without the pretention, the urban sprawl, and the suburban "family values" mentality that so often borders on the judgmental....but I also like 90 degree weather, cool clubs and restaurants, and affordable apartments...so the scales really balance. I don't like Atlanta because in my mind, it is forever attached to the journey my life took during my 20's, one that was filled with adventure, interesting people, and learning to be independent, but also filled with pain, loss, and learning that recklessness has consequences, and when you're a grown-up, mistakes don't just go away because you've said you're sorry and won't do it again. They can destroy your entire life, and thinking about the people you've hurt and opportunities you've squandered and people and situations that have deeply wounded you is easier to avoid when you are able to escape to a place where nothing reminds you of those things. It is harder to stay, to make peace with yourself, to forgive others, to heal, than it is to leave.

I moved to Atlanta because I was young, idealistic, adventurous, romantic, and I couldn't imagine *not* doing it. I thought I'd moved because I found someone I loved and pictured spending my life with in an exciting new place where I could do whatever I wanted and be whoever I wanted to be. In the end, it turns out I moved because I was searching for someone I loved and would spend my life with, someone I spent most of a decade finding, in possibly the most difficult ways possible: me.

When I arrived in Atlanta in September, 2001, it was an adventure through which absolutely anything in my life might be possible. It was not where I saw my life heading, but I was up for taking chances. When I return in a week or so, I hope I'm able to remember that nothing has changed...life is still an adventure and filled with chances that may bring happiness, if you're open to taking them, and anything is still possible, despite a few more obstacles.

It will soon be a new decade in my life, and I'd like it to be something I embrace with as much life and passion and belief in myself as I did the last, rather than dreading the passage of time, being overwhelmed by obligations and the disappointments I've suffered and the mistakes I've made.

I guess that's a pretty good epiphany to have, even if it takes being stuck in 2001 to do it.

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