I really think that laughter is the best medicine. While Vicodin sometimes makes my world a better place, I'd rather have my stomach hurt from laughing than be in a comatose state-of-being for 7 hours. Living in Iowa City, you'd think that my priorities were out of order, but just go with me on this.

There are other times I feel void of all emotion. I couldn't even tell you the last time I cried. I've had a lot of people die or fall ill, even then, it's like I have to imagine the time Uncle Jesse almost moved out of the Tanner household and Michelle gurggled out "I'll miss you Uncle Jesse." Sometimes that scenario helps my eyes produce a glossy sheen and if I blink 80,000 times in a row at the speed of light, eventually a tear might fall out? That's pretty much my preparation for fake crying. It's a struggle. If only I were Sally Struthers and surrounded by orphans--then, and only then, would my emotions come more easy.

The weird thing is, I used to be SUCH a crybaby. Oh, we're not going to Pizza Hut even though I earned a free personal pan pizza from my Book It award? Fine Mom, I'm never speaking to you again! Wah! Cue instantaneous sobbing rage. Oh, the ant just died on 'Honey, I Shrunk the Kids'? Cue emotional meltdown.

But, cut to 5 years ago when my best friend died in a car accident-I'm like Stone Cold Steve Austin, minus the muscle and goatee. Actually, minus the goatee--I've been working out. Anyway, I'm still unable to produce a tear or even a slight shake in my voice. What's WRONG with me?

Don't answer that.

Now laughing...I'm more than capable of this. I'm one of those annoying people who find it best to laugh after throwing my head back, opening the airways, and belting out a loud, shout-like laugh that is nothing short of pure obnoxiousness. I find humor in so many things, that I can't help but to show my appreciation. But before you jump to conclusions, there are, of course, those few individuals who I find NO humor in, even if they're typically regarded as being funny. One such instance is this bitchy girl at work who I refer to as "the Queen Bee" which ironically has nothing to do with work. You know when there's a group of friends that hang out a lot together, but there's always that one individual that kind of runs the show? She's it. Anyway, so this girl is flipping through this catalog like there's no tomorrow, and all of a sudden she goes, "Oh.My.God. Butter pecan ice cream is the shit-nizzle" ...which was said in this "ch'yah, like totally" valley accent.

Really? Is it that good and did you really need to put nizzle at the end of shit? Get out of my face. And honestly, take off that scarf. You're indoors. I think your neck will survive, and will probably thank you later. And also, I know you're proud of your recent g-string purchase at Lane Bryant, being that everytime you sit down you expose the entire world to it's thin-wedgie glory. However, maybe you should take that g-string out of your ass and use it to floss your snaggled teeth with.

The other emotion I deal with frequently is hostility.

Hey new year.

I'd typically take this opportunity to fill in an entire entry of allll 8, 485, 937 resolutions I'd like to make this year, but today it hit me...resolutions are useless. I'm not going to change something about my life just because a 6 became a 7. Resolutions have to have more meaning than that. You have to WANT to change. I don't know if I want to change anything. Sure, I'd like to eat less pasta this year. Carbs, you know. Who cares though?

What's more important is that I had a new revelation today, be it the new year, or be it a quiet, lackluster day. But I still thought of something. I thought about how I would like to change myself by simple observation of people close to me.

There are things I see in friends and family that I'd like to inherit this year. Compassion, confidence, commitment...I know the C's are redundant, but it's completely coincidental. Oops!...I did it again.

There are also things I want to observe, and have already observed, that reflect characteristics and attributes that I don't want to see in myself, or be caught possessing. Rudeness, arrogance, selfishness, laziness, greed. I've seen this in people, and while it's not something that would make me sever a friendship or relationship over, it simply reminds me that I don't want to embody that attribute and have it be seen as my own.

I'll have to finish this thought later -- my elbows hurt. Actually, this horse is dead. Let's make glue.

Disjointed? Yes.

Interesting? Perhaps.

I don't write for you, I write for myself.

Just FYI.

Sometimes I get in a really good mood, and I'll start thinking that I have a crush. I love crushes. They're so fun for so many reasons. That feeling of newness: new excitement, new possibilities...newness is always an interesting feeling.

Maybe it's the false sense of hope that I enjoy the most. Either way, crushes occupy time, and I could certainly use a few interruptions.

For some reason, I have this aversion to laziness. I hate being lazy. I always get this feeling of "What else could I be doing besides laying on the couch? There's so much going on outside, or somewhere else, and YOU'RE MISSING OUT! Hurry!"

That feeling really annoys me. Why can't I lay in bed for an insane amount of time without feeling like I should be going somewhere, doing something, or seeing somebody? I blame my Mother. I don't blame her too much, since, afterall, she's my biggest fan. But for my entire life, my Mom got out of bed and started her day at 5am. Seriously, 5:04am at the latest. My Mom does more in a day than I do in a week.

So, while my Mom is saving the world on Saturday mornings, I'd be laying in bed waiting for Aladdin to come on TV. This was about 15 years ago, but there's a very good chance that this could reoccur on any Saturday morning, both present and future. Anyway, as soon as I heard the theme song "Arabian Niiiiiiiights, like Arabian Daaaaays," I'd instantly fall back asleep. I just needed to hear the jingle to know that everything was okay, and it was safe to sleep. I used to do the same thing on Sunday nights, but with Baywatch. "I'lllllll be ready" put me to sleep instantaneously. It wasn't like I fell asleep out of boredom, it was just the peace of knowing that it was safe to fall asleep at any point in the next half hour. Like comfort food, these were comfort jingles.

I was physically incapable of falling asleep during a TV show that I did not like. If I heard the M*A*S*H jingle come on, it's like I couldn't change the channel quick enough. I'd never be able to fall asleep during that. I don't care how long that show stayed on air--it was stupid.

I can remember one Christmas, my whole family was going to travel to Indiana to spend the holiday with my Grandma, Grandpa, and Aunt Sandy. This presented a problem though. I felt like I was abandoning my stuffed animals during a very important time. I mean, how would I feel if I had to spend Christmas in the closet? Oh wait...

Anyway, I wouldn't like that at all.

So I gathered up alllllll of my stuffed animals. We're talking about A LOT of stuffed animals. I had a thing for them because, at that point in my life, I wanted to work at a zoo therefore housing 75 animals of all sorts and sizes was a prerequisite to my future. Although, I sometimes had a problem with my Popple. I was always faced with the uncertainty of "What animal are you supposed to be?!" I always felt like my Popple was so alone amid the lions, tigers, and bears...or at least scared for his life. Therefore I positioned them on seperate sides of the bed. I think he felt more at ease with the Gloworms. Anyway, I literally positioned all of my stuffed animals in an upright and alert position on my bed. I wanted them to share the holiday together, since I couldn't be there. How weird. The only reason I thought about this was because during my last trip home, I went up to the attic to look for some Christmas lights. During my search I ran across some old friends sitting in a box haphazardly. This didn't sit right with me, so I gave them a quick hello and positioned them tightly together in the box so that they could keep warm up in that cold, cold attic.

It's fun revisiting your childhood. Even when you think you're all grown up, you can hear or see something that takes you back to where you started. I know for a fact that if I saw Mrs. Jacobson (my 5th grade teacher) tonight, I'd still have a HUGE crush on her, even though she's so not my type. At all.

I'd probably still ask her how to pronounce a word from a story I was reading during library time, even though I knew how to pronounce, spell, and define every word in the book.

How do you end the constant replay? How do you let yourself accept the fact that it's over...for good? How do you move on?

How?

I wish I knew because I can't seem to do it. Just get over it...like it's that easy. I can't stop replaying the moments. Or should I say THE moment. The moment I knew. The moment I knew that goodbye was inevitable and that their would be no more hello's.

We were great talkers. We could talk for hours on end, mostly about nothing, but it meant everything. Our words were everything, it's all we had. Then came our time together. At first it was weird. It was like I had to prove myself, I had to show you the reasons why you should love me forever. That's so sad.

But we seemed to click. Right? Or was that just me?

Shit. That was totally just me.

So, maybe we didn't click. I met your friends. They loved me. I think. I tried really hard to fit into your life, or atleast I tried to make it a seamless transition. This was accomplished by swallowing all of my fears in order to make it work. Now that I think about it, how did I do it? I was so scared, but I couldn't let you know that...let alone SEE it. My heart is always worn on my sleeve, but I sometimes roll them up.

I didn't sleep much that night. You did though. You slept next to me, without stirring, while I pondered our existance. Why was I even there? Granted I didn't want to be sleeping anywhere else but beside you, but I wonder, did it mean the same to you?...as it did to me?

I couldn't sense it, if it did. I eventually fell asleep. I had a dream--you were in it. I woke up 2 hours after I had fallen asleep. It was 4:46.

I kept dreaming the same dream that entire night. It started and stopped, started and stopped. But it was always the same. And you were always in it. People dream when they want more out of life. Sometimes a dream is the only chance we get to find what we're looking for. Sometimes a dream is the only way we get what we want. Sometimes a dream is the only time our feelings feel real. Sometimes a dream is as close as we get. That dream was just a dream, and it was all I had.

At 4:46 you were snoring.

That morning when I woke up, the dream was over.
And so were we.

Wait, did I already tell you that story before? Oh you hadn't heard? Yeah, that's just a small part of my life that's been on the backburner...simmering.

Of course you didn't know. No one seems to know. I have two older brothers -- Scott & Michael. They're 10+ years older than my sister, Kelly, and myself. For my parents, it was kind of like growing up with two sets of children. They raised the two boys upon the flowing countrysides of Illinois, literally in the middle of a cornfield. Nine years later, out comes the first girl. Then me. And here we are. I'm the baby and the most special, of course. People always assume it's just us two. For all of my life it's been Kelly and Ryan. Don't forget about the first two. They're important.

I don't know why but it just tastes so good. Mom always reached on tip toes for the brown box on the highest shelf in the middle cupboard, just above the marshmallows and popcorn kernels. She made me pudding because she knew I loved it. Now, Jello Pudding Cups always make my day better. For whatever reason. I just love it. Once from a box, now from a cup.

Do you still think about me? I still think about you. All of the time.

If I'm running late, I've been known for skipping the entire event. For some reason, I'd rather be seen as absent than late. I told her I didn't come because I was in the hospital. That was a lie. I didn't come because I was late. Afterwards, she came to the hospital to visit me. They couldn't find my name on the ER list. I wasn't there, obviously. Even though I lied, I learned that shrewd, mean woman who seemingly hated me...cared enough to make sure I was okay.

I didn't feel a thing, although I did see a light. My best friend Donna and I are home alone at my town-house in Galva, Illinois. Meterologist James Zahara is on the TV saying a tornado is coming and to hide in your bathtub. Donna and I run into the basement instead and hide underneath the ping pong table. I used to be so good at ping pong, but maybe my Dad was just letting me be good. I don't know. I always kicked Donna's ass, though. So, we're hiding, hoping something cool happens. And it did. A pole comes smashing through the basement window, powerlines still attached. It stretches past the ping pong table and the live wires dance happily, with one asking me to join. They clung to my body, even though I tried to get away. Too slow. Electrocuted on the basement floor. Two weeks later I woke up in a hospital bed, Mom was watching One Life to Live beside me. Little did she know I had two.

"Actually, we have another one in the back, he's kind of rowdy though." From the moment I touched him, I knew.

So, I'm cruising around Davenport, handing out resumes left and right. I stopped at the TV news offices, stopped at a couple of newspaper places. Stopped at the mall. I was hungry from all that desperation. Popped into A&F and tried on a pair of jeans. The more holes the better I thought. Out pops this quirky, funky girl. "Hey, have you ever thought about a job with A&F" she says to me. "Um, no, but here's my resume." 20 laps around the mall later on a pop-up interview, I'm hired. "Move to Iowa City, it has the best store around." she popped out of the door to say as I walked away. Flash forward a year - little did I know it contained some nasty, evil people. A few good ones, though too. I remember having a hicky on my very first day. I wore a zip-up sweater to conceal it. It was August. I popped the collar. I know, I'm ashamed. So poppy. Ay, papi.

"It's seriously coming down hard, I hate walking in the rain..." I said, standing under the brick building overhang. "C'mon, let's just go." he shot back with a smile.

I remember sitting at my desk in my comfy little dorm room, fixing, primping...making it perfect, thesaurus at my side. I walked to class without a shred of hope, "She'll hate it." I thought. I read it aloud, with the six of us around the table, critiquing. "Ryan Sumner, you ARE a writer" she said. Knowing the kind of person she was, and how much I feared her, she changed my life with those very words.

Can I ask you a question? Can I kiss you?

I left her outside. I was cold, wet, and miserable...I had to go in. She stayed behind. I took off my snowsuit, took off my boots and gloves and placed them next to the smoldering wood embers within the fireplace. My parents went outside, leaving me alone with my brothers who let me watch a scary cartoon -- something where Donald Duck had pointy teeth and a vengeance. I cried under my sheets for my sister, and because Donald was acting so different. Where had she gone? In my mind, all I can remember is them finding her outside, alone. I cried for her. I didn't mean to leave. I don't even know if she knows it happened. I don't even know if it happened. It still hurts, though.

Why did I stay in the backseat like that? He got out, she got out. I stayed in. Was it weird for you, too? Probably. I came off cold. I didn't mean to. Actually, I really didn't mean to. Things didn't go as I hoped they would. I think it was my fault. I carry that guilt around to this very day. That was a long plane ride home.

"Look, Bennett -- 'All About Beans!'" it read. 10 books, 1 g-string, and 3 beers later, it was the best after hours I had been to.

Since I was too young to remember, she told me the story. However, my brothers weren't too young, and they remembered all too well. She cried as she remembered. It was the worst day of her life. It was the worst feeling of her life. "He would have killed us all. He wrote it down on his suicide note. He wanted us dead." She hid us kids in the coat closet at the bottom of the stairs and stood in front of the door, the phone to her ear waiting for my Dad to pick up. "Get here now, he's trying to get in!" She remembers screaming...my Dad remembered hearing. He came just in time. 2 shots later, we were safe.

I sat on that beach, so alone, but the blue was so amazing.

I hope my life never ends. So interesting, so far.

Look at you. Completely helpless, dirty, begging me to spare your miserable life. I have needs too.

I don't want to give you up. I don't want to stop liking you. I don't want to stop thinking about you, thinking about when the next time I'll see you, the next time I'll taste you.

But at the same time, I don't want to think that just because your life sucks, mine should too.

I didn't ask to be who I am, or the position I was put in. I didn't ask for any of it. But yet you want me to completely change my life around for you? Like it's so easy?

I wish I could, but I can't.

I love meat.

Sorry PETA.

*Please do not eat Butterball, Tyson, Oscar Meyer, or any other processed meat. They're mean to the turkeys, chickens, cows, pigs, and other animals. It's sick. But at the same time, I can't be a vegetarian. I'm WEAK. I'll only consult my local dairy and butcher for meat and dairy products from now on.*

So, can I be depressing for a second?

Sweet, thanks.

Sometimes, do you ever feel like you're going to die alone?

I do.

There's something very disturbing about leaving for work in darkness, and then leaving work, only to find that the night never left.

The last few months have been devestatingly hard, perhaps my hardest yet. In this time I've seen countless obstacles that, for me, I've easily maneuvered past; while others have swallowed me whole.

You know me. Well, some of you do. I try to take control over everything in my life. No, I won't try to control your life, I'm just protective of my own. You treat me well? You have a place in my heart. You treat me poorly? You'll never be seen again. That's just the way it is. I keep those whom I KNOW are there for a reason. I feel like there are quite a few people like that in my life, and for that I am truly blessed. But I know that there are those who don't hold my best interest, those who don't think twice...and for you, goodbye.

I can't control how I feel. I can't control what happens to me. I can't control situations that arise. I can't control the lurid thoughts and doubts that haunt me. I can't control my life.

I can control my reaction though. I control what and who my life contains, and sometimes I misjudge, but often I don't. I can control how I tolerate misgivings, or what I can do to get past. I can control what really, truly matters...and let go of the rest. As someone once said, there's a beauty in just letting go. And it is beautiful.

I've let go of an insecurity this week. Humility. I've told a few people how amazing humility is. Humility shows you how to be human. It shows you that no one is perfect, and that no matter what you do to prevent bad things from happening, shit happens. Like a broken nose. Believe it or not, it made me a better person. I've always believed that God is in control of my life, and those obstacles He places in front of me are for a reason. Not my reason, but for one reason. To be a better person. And it happened. I still have many, many flaws...I'll admit that to anyone. But in this one moment, I learned something that I'll quite possibly never forget, nor would I ever want to forget. I'm imperfect. Beautifully imperfect.

Embrace imperfection. Keep humility in your heart. Allow yourself to be at the bottom, to learn and grow once again regardless of how old you are, or how much you have already been through. I'm not trying to be preachy, and I'm not trying to make a point. I'm reflecting on what has been a traumatic and stressful period of my life...and though it has caused me sleepless nights and endless uncertainty--I'm blessed that it has given me the opportunity to witness it, the courage to get through it, and the dignity to move on.

Life is so incredibly unyielding, and persistent, but so beautiful. Life isn't controlled and I can't control my life.

And for that, I'm thankful.

Medication.

I really need medication. Before you jump to conclusions or suggestions, it's sleeping medication that I need. That I deserve. I feel like I haven't slept in days. Like no matter how much I try, something's in the way. Something's stopping me from having dreams. There's plenty of factors to blame. My roommate keeps odd hours. He's awake at the worst time. That 3 am til 5 am bracket. I wake up to hear whatever he Tivo'd. To hell with Tivo. It allows him to record everyhing and anything he wants so that he can watch it at a time when any normal person should be sleeping. I haven't been normal for months. I wake up to hear the foggy details of Lost, or I'm kept up to speed with every movement of the Amazing Race people. Someone give me a medal for biting my tongue. I deserve one, too. It's okay, I'll just not sleep through this hour. This night. This week.

Seriously, go to bed. I have to be awake during the daylight hours and for what seems like my entire existance here, I've been awake during the night ones, too.

Buster is also cramping my style. I really need to remedy our situation. He sleeps right next to me, no matter where I move to in the bed. Literally, right by my side, always touching my leg, my back, my arm, my hand, my finger, all in some facet. People move during normal sleep. If I move, well then that requires me to move Buster.

And that whole scene is 100% my fault. He's been sleeping with me since he was a pup, since the very first day I've had him. Every night. Every single night. It's a great feeling to have his cute little face to wake up to, but seriously, it's ruining something, too. It's my fault, though. I still love him like no other.

SO sleep deprived. I sleep in silence. No TV in the room. No music. No fan. No nothing.

The windows of my bedroom keep the cold air out, but let every noise outside IN. I swear, it's as if I can hear the worms crawling through the mud down below. And this is from three stories up. I never noticed how many firetrucks, police cars, and ambulances are strolling down this God forsaken street at every God forsaken hour. Seriously people, could you drive yourself to the hospital or buy a fire extinguisher? I really need my sleep. Let's not jump to extremes right away.

I remember when I looked at the clock. Last night it was 3:28, 3:47, 4:52, 5:01, and 6:51. And oh, 6:51 was the absolute worst being that my alarm clock goes off at 6:53. Two minutes, are you fucking kidding me? I shut my eyes so tight thinking that two minutes could give me everything I need and that I'll be able to get up better if I just sleep for these two long minutes.

The alarm goes off, and all I can think about is how much I just want for the world to freeze for a minute. For the traffic to stop. For the loitering drunks to pass out. For the television in the living room to not work. For my roommate to go to bed. For Buster to sleep on the floor. For my eyes not to open. And for my brain not to stir.

Something has to change.

Sometimes I seriously think that I could spend ALL DAY on YouTube. It's so brilliant, $1.65 billion seems a little cheap to be the selling price. Way undersold.

I seriously just watched 3 hours worth of videos about funny cats.

Oh, life.

Okay, so now that all of that drama is over, I can begin writing normally again. Well, semi-normal. For some odd reason I can't remember what it was that I wanted to blog about, but trust me, you would have loved it. It had something to do with Disney movies...no wait, it didn't have anything to do with Disney movies, but it was similar in some way...

Hmm. I'm sitting here thinking, hold on. This blog is kind of in real-time, as they say. Umm.

Oh yes.

Romantic Comedies, let's discuss.

So, for any of you whom actually know me, you'll know that I'm a die-hard romantic comedy fan. Perhaps borderline romance/chick flick fan. I'm going to list some of my favorite ones, in no particular order because I'm not that obsessed to the point that I created an order:

1. Under the Tuscan Sun
2. Never Been Kissed
3. The Notebook
4. 50 First Dates
5. Can't Buy Me Love
6. Love, Actually
7. You've Got Mail
8. Short Circuit (I'll explain this later)
9. The Wedding Singer
10. My Best Friend's Wedding

Okay, so, I'll be honest and let you all know that I haven't seen all of these movies in their "entirety" due to the fact that I fall asleep during movies VERY easily, regardless of their entertainment value. And let's not forget the fact that I have the reputation for imaginatively placing myself in the role of the heartbroken, victimized, and looking-for-love single person in every movie, which is usually the lead character. So, with that, it's easy to say that I sometimes get distracted during the movie.

Anyway, Under the Tuscan Sun is one of those movies I haven't seen all the way through, but from what I did see, I LOVED it. First of all it takes place in Europe, so automatically the romance-meter already goes up quite a few degrees. Secondly, all of the people in the movie are fantastic looking, so it's really hard to not get caught up in this flick. I have the feeling I'll be at Blockbuster very soon searching for a "previously viewed" copy to buy. Hmm, desperate? Maybe.

Never Been Kissed...not the story of my life, thank God, but still something I can relate to. I don't know that I've kissed the love of my life yet either, but have definitely kissed a person here and there.

The Notebook. This movie will basically just make you feel that no matter what relationship you've been in, none of them could remotely compare to the relationship that Noah and Allie had. The emotion between the two of them was so THICK, it was great and bad all at the same time. Great to see that kind of passion, but bad because I haven't experienced anything even remotely like it. Some day...

50 First Dates gets my vote for one reason: dedication. Adam Sandler's character was so dedicated to Drew, that regardless of some very discouraging circumstances, he pursued what he was after until the end. That's very noteworthy in my book. Unless I'm uninterested, then you need to know when to call it a day.

I don't really know how Can't Buy Me Love got put on this list. What was I thinking? I can't even really think of anything to say about this movie. I really should have replaced this slot with Must Love Dogs.

Now, for Love, Actually. This movie is fantastic. It's funny and it also makes you want to step out your front door and find someone British to love and have marry you. If you're not up for loving Brits, don't watch the movie. Plus it ties in a Christmas feeling, which is one of my most favorite feelings, so it really does a number on the insides.

You've Got Mail is great, but primarily because it takes place in a book store and book stores are HOT.

Now Short Circuit will make you fall in love with a robot. That's why it's so great. I never really feel sympathetic and emotional towards robots, but this time is different. And I guess I also sympathize because I've met a few robots in my day.

I can't tell you how excited I get when The Wedding Singer is played on TBS or some other shitty cable station. And let's keep in mind the fact that I own the DVD, but for some reason the TV version is so much more appealing. And I also wouldn't mind if a string quartette played "Don't Stop Believing" at my wedding. Assuming I get married. Even if I don't get married I'm still going to fulfill my dream of having 10 children.

And last but not least is My Best Friend's Wedding, which I can't really decide if I like this movie for its content, or just for the opener where Ani DiFranco sings Wishing and Hoping and a bride and her bridesmaids dance around to it. I really relate to that song though because it's really all that I ever do these days.

I am such a victim.

...and then I hear a whisper, that this too shall pass.

I learned something.

I learned that I lose and/or have lost everything; my keys, my phone, my sanity, my faith in people. Never ask me to hold onto something. Never assume that I have everything when I leave the door, or a cab for that matter. Me? Leave the keys that unlock the most important possessions I own in a cab? Never...oh, whoops, I did actually. But more importantly, after the first loss I continued to lose. And lose and lose and lose. Possessions, feelings, hope, trust, respect...

I learned that no one will take care of you, except yourself. No one cares that you're stranded, that you're ridden with worry and helplessness, that you're alone, that you need somebody...ANYBODY. No one cares about that. No one cared at all.

I learned that the lake made me feel small. Smaller than I had already felt. I felt so small that it made me wonder...if I had drowned myself in that big, beautiful lake, would anyone notice? Well, yeah...when I didn't show up for work and when my rent didn't get paid - somebody would have eventually caught on. I think.

I learned that people aren't always what they seem, no matter how much you hope and dream. It's funny to think that I talked about "rock bottom" only to realize this was my rock bottom. And those rocks were sharp...really sharp. The scars reveal everything. Thanks for calling. Thanks for caring. Thanks for giving a damn what happened to me that miserable day and the day after. That was real sweet of you. You shouldn't have! Oh wait, you didn't.

I learned that it's possible to walk for miles and miles and never realize that your feet are blistered and that your leg muscles quit 3 miles back. I walked so fast, and so much, I'm just now realizing what I did and how amazing it is that I did it. No one will understand this concept because I experienced this on my own, alone. The seagulls will understand though. I hope they're reading.

I learned that your heart is often wrong. Follow your heart, the saying always goes. Really? No, don't do that. Your heart doesn't have its own brain. Follow the brain in your head. I didn't follow my brain this ENTIRE weekend. I followed my heart--it too let me down and now feels slightly heavy.

I learned how special home really is. Home is where I should of been. Would I change anything about leaving home and going there to go through all that? YES. Perhaps, all of it. All regret. I'm man enough to admit that I regret my decisions. I didn't grow from this. I made a mistake. Actually, I made mistakes. But I learned from them.

I learned a lot this weekend. And I'm happy that I'm home, safe and sound. No one knows that though, but me. No one asked.

I'm down, I'm battered, I'm sore, I'm tired, and I'm broke...but I'm home. Thanks for nothing.

Oh, hey September.

Forgot you were here. I haven't even really been that busy, not sure what my problem has been lately. Blogging is similar to working out--the benefits are AMAZING but who really has the time? Well, I do, it's just a matter of using that time for creative and positive purposes.

Let me search my databanks and try to recall some issues that have been bothering me lately. Oh okay, Iowa City. For some reason, I've been living here for 3 years now and I don't really understand why. Actually, I do understand--it's my job, first and foremost. It's too good of an opportunity and too much money to discredit the location. Sometimes I feel like I never left college though, and that's the main problem. This was experienced when I went tailgating this weekend. Seeing people get obnoxiously drunk at 7 in the morning? Seriously? For instance, this one guy actually projectile vomited right in front of me at some random house we went to. Luckily I was out of the line of fire. It was overwhelming. I went to a private college and never really dealt with the "lifestyle" of a public university. I went my entire college career without even seeing a college football game, and I was okay with that. I worked every weekend at the YMCA teaching swim lessons, all so that I could make my car payments. I like to think that I bettered myself. So, when living in a college town, it's like you're in college again, except in a more intense setting. I'm looking for a different lifestyle than that. I should have known this ahead of time. I mean, I moved to Iowa City when I graduated college in 2004 due to the fact that I found a job where I could use my newly acquired degree.

Oh wait, no I didn't, I worked at Abercrombie & Fitch. What a waste of life. Actually, I take that back, it wasn't a complete waste. I did meet some amazing individuals, but I also met some complete assholes, too. That's OK though because, let me check, oh yeah...they still work there, and I'm sure there are many more A&F years to come for them. How do you stay in retail? Anytime someone would ask me where I worked at, I had to embarrassingly say "A&F" and then immediately change the topic. I wonder what it's like to do that year after year after year. I don't care what your title is, you're still a loser with a punk job.

Enough of that. Here's an endorsement for Febreze: Buy their outlet products. I swear to God, you buy the mechanism, plug it into the wall, and your place will smell like fresh laundry every day. It's AMAZING. It's not as amazing as waffle-cone fragranced garages, but it's pretty close to it.

Anti-climatic, right? I know.

More to come later when I have time to tell a story about yogurt and/or dogs with three legs.

I always have this dream where I write a memoir about my life and it becomes a NY Times bestseller, selling millions of copies, in fact, so many copies that it sets a record for selling the most amount of copies ever. And then Oprah wants it in her book club, and I'm on Larry King Live talking about the inspiration behind the book, and Lindsay Lohan is being hounded by the paparazzi, taking picture after picture of her with my book in hand--subject line being "Stars are just like us! They read Ryan Sumner's memoirs!" But you should also probably know that when I'm writing my memoirs, my hair is always really messy and I have thick glasses on.

And then I think about the financial gains from writing these memoirs, and I believe the fortune to be somewhere in the billion range, but the exact number puzzles me. For some reason, 3 billion dollars just doesn't seem to be enough these days.

Oh, 2006.

So, does anyone else HATE Jeffrey on Project Runway as much as I do? I really hope so. The guy has no talent and no chin. That nasty tattoo around his neck ISN'T cool nor is his haircut which looks like Corkey from Life Goes On took a Flowbee to it after finding out his sister's boyfriend had AIDS and she was still kissing him on the railroad tracks, regardless.

Yeah, that's how much I dislike him. And he WON last night for making some ugly rockstar outfit, where the pants looked like some pajama bottoms I used to wear 20 years ago. And trust me people, you do NOT want to know what I was wearing 20 years ago.

Back then, I was really into Pound Puppies.

I think it's safe to say that we all know I have issues with aliens. Their existence in this world is undeniable (according to me) and it's only a matter of time before I come face to face with one.

Last Sunday, I inadvertently watched this show on the National Geographic channel, entitled...

(Hold on, I have to Google the name of the show because I can't remember what it was)

Aha..entitled "The UFO Phenomenon--Seeing is Believing."

And, OH!, actually before I start talking about that, on Saturday morning I watched this show called "UFOs over Illinois" and it talked about how on this one night in southern Illinois, this two-story UFO was flying around and was witnessed by over 7 people in 4 different towns (5 of the 7 witnesses were police officers). It was crazy because they all saw the same thing and one of the witnesses worked for the Air Force Base that is located in the area, and he confirmed that it was a non-registered, non-military sighting because the base was shut down on that night, so it wasn't like a top-secret plane that the Air Force was testing out. Plus why would the AF build a two-story "secret" plane? Russia would totally see that coming.

Silly rabbit.

Anyway, so back to the other alien show I was watching...so Peter Jennings was hosting it which is weird because he's dead, and I kept thinking to myself, I wonder what he looks like now? But I digress, so Peter is talking about how all of these UFOs have been seen by like 33,000 government and commercial pilots, and had all of these experts on talking about aliens and the reasons why they exist and he had this one scientist/professor who was the lead figure in disproving aliens and UFOs, but after all his studies he became a believer and lead this coalition in producing attention and money into creating programs that would help to scientifically prove that aliens exist. The show had SO many scientists, witnesses, and just ordinary citizens who all KNOW they saw something, but no one believes them. Why not believe them? Sure, they had on some freaks who were talking about how they were abducted by aliens in their sleep, and especially this one crazy lady who said that she was abducted from her home, was placed on a bed in the UFO and was introduced to this female alien who was holding onto an alien baby. The Earth lady goes, "Whose baby is that, is that my baby!?" and the alien lady goes "No, this isn't your baby, this is OUR baby."

Okay, yeah right lady. As if aliens know how to speak English and are capable of using a dramatic emphasis when saying OUR baby. dundunDUNNNN!

Now, what I didn't like about the show was that they would say, "Scientists disprove alien visitation on Earth for this, this, and this reason...but then they would follow up with a HOWEVER...and shoot off some random fact and show some scary UFO video footage.

Ugh, in all I was on a rollercoaster ride of beliefs and disbeliefs. What I did learn though was that aliens are here and they are queer, so get over it.

is equal to


So, after talking about this subject with a few people, I've decided that it would actually be best to put this opinion onto a textual platform. Here goes:

Now, I wouldn't consider myself a huge fan of fast food. Sure it typically tastes good and is relatively cheap, but it's not the best thing in the world to be eating. The places that I sometimes go for a fast, cheap meal would be Wendy's, Burger King, Taco Bell, and perhaps a few others. However, within the 4 or 5 times a year that I go to these places, the one restaurant that I consistently have a horrible time at is WENDY'S. The horrible-ness of every encounter is measured on many different levels. My main concern lies within the employee staffing. Without getting called a racist by my friends, I will just say that the majority (and by majority I mean each and every one) of the employees at EVERY Wendy's I have ever been to have always been staffed by unfriendly black people. This is similar to how every bank is staffed with unfriendly white people. The difference is that the mean bank people aren't handling food. I can handle having cocaine sediment on my dollar bills, but I can't handle having cocaine being used as a salt substitute. That sounds bad...unfriendly black people wouldn't waste cocaine like that.

Let me restate...

I can handle having a stripper's vagina juice all over my dollar bills, but I can't handle having a Wendy's employee spit a loogey on my hamburger as a makeshift spicy mayonnaise.


Now I'm not saying that it has ever happened, and if it did it tasted okay...but my point is the fact that I feel like the employees want to KILL me for merely stepping foot within their establishment. I'll walk up to the register and sure enough, here comes some girl with big fingernails and an even bigger attitude, freaking out on me because I wanted a Frosty instead of the drink that comes with my meal. Yeah, I want a Frosty INSTEAD of a drink, not a Frosty and a drink, and don't tell me I can't because I can.

Ohhhhh hell no I didn't.

Then she gives me the silent death treatment while all the others are in the back, staring at me without blinking. Well, this meal officially ended before it even got started. I wasn't hungry anyway.

I am not my hair!

And neither are you. Just be nice to me when I'm ordering a Frosty, okay sweetums?

Shh...I'm totally at work. I'm supposed to be writing a proposal, but I'm writing this instead. CRAZY.

So what's new, you ask? Well, not a lot. OR MORE THAN LIFE.

Went to New York. Had some good times. Moved to a different apartment in IC. Had some bad times.

I lost a pound because of it all, I think. All of the eating I did in NYC is now discredited due to my non-eating in IC because of all the stress and steps. As in stair steps. As in stairs. Lots of them. Over and over again. I love that my life has some sort of balance, though.

I'm joining a gym now that I no longer have access to Ryan Sumner's private home gym...located in his second bedroom, which is also of no more. I hate working out at gyms. Sweaty people...jocks lifting stuff that they know is way too heavy in the first place...people being sweaty. Sick.

Sometimes when I see really fat people at the gym, I think, "Aw, that's a cute idea." But immediately after that the realist in me comes out and I think "Yeah right, give up."

But I digress.

Did you know about the gossip folk, that did the okedoke, and Missy had to smoke'em because she's dope.

I'm dope, too.

So, when a bear is chasing a deer, do you ever think that the bear is super horny and just wants to fuck the deer, but when he catches the deer, he just gets mad-crazy hungry and eats it instead?

Sometimes I think deer are pretty.

Lately I've been having some weird thoughts. Actually, a series of weird thoughts, all of which seem to collectively bounce off of one another.

The first series of thoughts came to me as I'm barreling down I-80, returning from my trip home over the 4th. I was just admiring the sunset when I thought, "Earth probably hates us." To Earth, I bet we're like those little fish that cling onto bigger fish...just riding along, doing god knows what, but still, riding along and taking advantage of the free ride. However, if I was Earth I'd be all like "Get the fuck off me, idiot." And you KNOW that's exactly what Earth's thinking EVERYDAY. Do you think Earth cares if we die? Oh hells no. Earth would be happy. I bet Earth cannot WAIT for George Bush to kick it.

But yet the Earth keeps us. Gravity keeps us stuck here, even though I'm dying to fly. The other night I had a dream that I could fly and it was the coolest dream I've ever had. I was just hanging out, talking to my Grandpa, who's dead, then all of a sudden I'd have to go do something, so I'd just start running and BOOM - take off into flight.

It was so liberating, too. Ever see "The Neverending Story" ?? You know, at the end, when that kid is flying with Valcor, hauling ass over those damn bullies who, for some reason, decide to hide in a dumpster.

Really? A dumpster? You couldn't think quickly enough to hide in something less smelly?

Anyway, I wonder what I looked like while I was dreaming? Last night I woke up screaming "It's like you don't even CARE!"

I wonder what I meant by that?

Maybe I was talking about Earth. If I hear one more thing about global warming and glaciers melting, I'm going to cry. Then I'm going to get mad. And then I'm going to do something. Those actions could be reversed and/or flipped, too.

I'll keep you posted on the order.

Moral of the story - try not to be an annoying little fish. Don't annoy the Earth. And for god's sake don't annoy me.

Okay, so if we're little sucker fish hitching rides on big momma fish, then would that make aliens pirannas? You know aliens just wanna tear into us tasmanian devil style, where all you see is a tornado around you and when the dust settles you're just a skeleton.

Aliens freak my shit.