the rose of kiev

Work scheduled me a little on the early side today. Mom was still tutoring and couldn't run me to work on time, so I had lunch with The Boyfriend and asked nicely if he could transport me. But of course. I bundled my miscellaneous brick-a-brack together and dashed up to the break room to change in the employee bathroom. He followed me into the store saying he had to pick up something to drink; I asked him to come through my line to say goodbye before going. A few minutes later, here he comes, my first customer. He tosses a half-gallon of apple juice and a bright pink daisy on my belt. I laughed and scanned it. "There ya go - now look, only $1.76, was that so hard?" He signed his receipt, griping playfully. "If I run out of gas and need that $1.76..." He handed the paper back to me as I grinned impishly back. "You want to hold onto it, or do you want me to give it to you later?" "I'm afraid it'll get crushed - hold onto it for me." (N

Yesterday I ended up working an 8-hour shift instead of my scheduled 4 hours. In the last hour, Dave came through my check-out - I noticed him 3 customers back in line. Coincidentally, the only man to purchase flowers from me the entire 8 hours of my shift happened to be the man directly in front of Dave. Grinning back at my green-eyed boy, I waved the bouquet suggestively. He shook his head and gave me Andes mint chocolates instead, later protesting that he was going to buy me flowers but didn't have enough money with him. And yes, the chocolate was very very good; I still have 2/3 the package left, which means I ate about 10 pieces last night. :) And until Dad's can't-cost-much-more-than-a-packet-of-Andes white rose wilts, I'll go easy on Dave. But when that vase is empty....

This past Saturday, I talked on the phone with Dave as usual after work. I reminded him that my dad's girlfriend, Robin, had given me $20 in gift certificates to Johnny Rockets for Dave and I to spend on a date night. Ruefully, he said that he had loaned his car to a friend of his so he could take a girl out on a date, but wished he could do that with me. And hanging up the phone a few minutes later, I had this brainwave: I'll just bring Johnny Rockets to Dave. Who cares if I can't drive, I can find a way. Looking up the Lennox store online, I copied down the number and called to ask if they did take-out. "Yeah, we do take-out orders." "You do? Excellent, um, yeah, lemme call you back in a little bit when I know what I want!" Perusing the online menu, I guessed as shrewdly as possible about what Dave might want - I refused to call him, because I was determined for it to be a surprise. Sitting down on the edge of the couch where my dad was, I started out

Remember how I told you about that old dude I bowed and smiled out, who came over and promptly flipped me off twice in a row? HE DID IT TO ME AGAIN TODAY - THE EXACT SAME THING !!

I had brunch this morning with Dad and his girlfriend, Robin at this little place called Nancy's. It was a morning full of good food and good talk and some tears on my part. They both love me so much. Robin and I went out shopping together, and Dad kindly gave me some money before he went to work so I could go to Kohl's with the Kohl's guru herself - partly as a piece of his advice, mostly for helping clean the house yesterday like he asked. i got a pair of sunglasses and a few good shirts on clearance - last minute Robin whips out her credit card and winks at me, saying "I'll pay for the clothes - you can keep the rest after paying for the sunglasses." Thank you thank you thank you Robin. She and I get back to the house, where my dad had doubled back and left a single rose on Robin's bags before she went back home. She noticed one over on the steps, and then said, "Oh, that one isn't for me." She nodded over at one beautiful white long-stemm

In the past couple years, I defined my music style as a guy singing with a guitar in the background with (absolutely irrefutably necessary) good lyrics in his songs. I've told that Dave many many many times, and up until yesterday, Howie Day held the prize for Heather's Favorite Genre-Typical Artist. Oh ho, that is, until Dave gave me my (belated, but excellent) Valentine's Day gift: In Between Dreams by Jack Johnson. Guy singing? Guitar? Double check! Good lyrics? HOLY FRIKKIN' COW YES!! I had never listened to him before, didn't recognize the name, but I've already listened to the album 4 or 5 times through in the past 22 hours. He's not just genre-typical, he's genre-PERFECT!! And Dave picked the cd out himself, proving he knew my music type. *sings along with headphones* "I need this old train to break down...but you can't stop nothin' if you got no control...you can't stop wishin' if you I wanna break on down, but i can't

Right now, I'm in the Columbus State computer lab using a visually handicapped computer because they have nothing else for me. Well, I'd like to think that's the reason - maybe they think I really am handicapped. Oh well. So, the letters on the keyboard are in all magnificently obnoxious bold letters SCREAMING for me and my not-THAT-screwed-up vision to look at them. I can't help it. They're just too...BIG. I can't stop looking at them, they are just so HUGE. That and the backspace key is florescent yellow, the shift keys are this hypnotically bright green, and the enter key is this big black blemish on my board now. I CANNOT WORK WITH THIS KEYBOARD. TOO...VISUALLY...DISTRACTING. Ok, weird keyboard rant aside, I can move on to other more interesting things, such as...updates on my life I guess. I don't really have anything funny saved up from the past couple days for you guys, so I'll just fill you in on a couple of things. work : It's still going r

Anyone ever see "Mean Girls" with Lindsey Lohan? When she was pissed off, she suffered from a symptom she dubbed "word vomit". Hers was the result of her convulsing anger, but I have a different word vomit. Mine is basically the result of my vocabulary and emotions upchucking at the same time. I'm not quite sure what to tell you guys; what's appropriate to say, what you don't need to know, what's too much to tell you. This is probably gonna be a pretty long entry, which might scare you off, but after hearing my unusally discouraging tones I have no doubt that many of you are now riveted. I guess...you guys love me and want to know me, and for some, this is the only way you keep up with me. I'll figure out the limit as I go, I guess. I had a very good talk with my momma today, which is a good sign for our relationship. It was violently and starkly splintered for quite a while, but it has progressed in leaps and bounds lately as I've better und

If you put your arms around me, Could it change the way I feel? I guess I let myself believe That the outside might just bleed its way in Maybe stir the sleeping past Lying under glass I'm waiting for the kiss That breaks this awful spell Pull me out Of this lonely cell Close my eyes and hold my heart Cover me and make me something Change this something normal Into something beautiful What I get from my reflection Isn't what I thought I'd see Give me reason to believe You'd never keep me incomplete You untie this loss of mine That easily defines me Do you see it on my face That all I can think about is how long I've been waiting to feel you move me Close my eyes and hold my heart Cover me and make me something Change this something normal Into something beautiful Into something beautiful Into something beautiful And I'm still fighting for the word to break these chains And I still pray when I look in your eyes You'd stare right back down Into something beaut

Last night was incredible and I take ALL the credit for its genius. The formerly unmentioned friend I've been talking to again lately will now be given a name - his name is John. John just bought a house up in Grove City two weeks ago, so it's little more than empty closets and paint cans at the moment. Obviously, I hadn't seen it before, so when Amy called me up to go hang out, I went kind of reluctantly but ended up having a good time with them. Upon reaching John's house, we say at his little kitchen table (the only furniture in the house) wasting the butane in his lighter before deciding to light the cozy fireplace. Somehow we ended up talking about what we could do until we went home, since there wasn't a TV or anything and I said, "Dude, let's play hide-and-seek!" "But, where would we hide?" "Hello - my brother and sister and I played hide-and-seek in a miniature hotel room; all you need to do is turn off the lights." And thus

Here's another story from my ongoing saga of employment at Giant Eagle: I've just turned the light to my aisle off, I'm getting ready to head home, and my favorite manager is about to get my remaining stash of coupons, when a young Oriental couple pulls in with hopeful faces. They don't have much to buy, so I suffer one last load. I should've waved them on. They buy $16.31 worth of groceries (yes, that's an exact number, you'll see why I remember it) and I ask how they're paying. The guy hands me his Buck ID card, which for those of you who don't know how that works, it's a little piece of plastic that OSU students can use to double as a credit card and takes 8 YEARS to process. Not really, but our Buck ID machines are all archaic and tempermental. The machine asks for the amount of the sale, I have to punch that in, wait for the machine to search for the signal...then find the signal...then connect to the signal...than approve the signal...then

There's no other word for it. I just got off the phone with him. I texted him to let him know that now was a good time; 30 minutes later I shut my phone. My hands are shaking a little. All I can say is...it went well. There'll be a second conversation. It's up to him to call me and initiate this - I leave it completely in his hands (for the moment). I need to see his promises in action. I was more blunt than usual describing things, and we retraced the miscommunication and are meeting on a clean slate. I won't use the past against him; but forgiveness doesn't come as a package with trust. He knows that, too. With humility inevitably comes growth. We were both humbled. I hope he knows that.

So I got a message from what I thought was a former friend. I really don't have any idea what the hell he is right now, or how I should respond to him. He and I used to be the closest of close, and then he got in a bad mood and shut me out. A little while later, we picked stuff back up again after a tearful and apologetic reunion. A few months and one ruined practical joke later, I became a scapegoat and he shut me out again. That hurt - mostly because I felt wrongly accused. I haven't heard from him since, and suddenly he's trying to connect with me again, claiming a change in heart. I have a hard time believing him - that was what he said last time. If you're reading this, I'm not doing this to spite you, but to process you and get advice from my friends. Can you blame me for not knowing what to do with you exactly? He sent me a message through facebook and then told me about a pivotal blog entry he had - I read it, and now I'm interested in at least one conve

Valentine's Day is a week from today. How do I react to that? The Valentine agnostic in me flares up right about now - a couple years ago I actually wrote a story called "St. Valentine's Day Massacre" in honor of February 14th. True, there were no boys whose hand I could hold, but that's besides the point. I still firmly believe that Hallmark got really lucky while creating holidays during one of their brainstorming sessions in Sappiness, USA, and being with Dave hasn't changed that...but something I thought I had stomped out of my being several years back is timidly showing its face again, to my utter disbelief. Something suggesting that having a boy for Valentine's day this year might be nice. But this small thing showing its face is dangerously close to being trampled again. I point-blank REFUSE to get any romantic notions about that day. I don't want them. First off, I don't want to make it a habit to make stuff like this all ooshy-gooshy and l

A month ago I submitted a poem to Poetry.com A week ago I got a letter from them in the mail I'M GONNA BE PUBLISHED

A foggy handprint on a pane of glass Oil smudged on a smooth cool surface Why is my heart so tumultuous? I breathe on the imprinted swirls High-lighting 5 long fingers No ring-sized breaks Nothing that belongs to me I want to seize his knuckles in my fingertips Make sure he really was here where I am To leave his mark here on me. I press a tiny fleshy hand Stretched along the handprint you left Can I absorb you through your fingerprints? I know you were here But that's not the question. 7 fat raindrops wet my face Or were those tears? Slowly, I retrieve my hand. If our fingerprints swirl together Could we be mistaken as one person? Who am I kidding There are no answers left worth finding here the question has already been answered I just want a different ending (One that's more like a beginning)

So, getting the coffee went well. We ran into an older friend of mine and his wife there and chatted for like 20 minutes or something crazy like that. About life and church and odds and ends like that. But that meant an extra 20 minutes waiting for what Dave had to say. To sum it up, we sat down and tried to comprehensibly write the purpose of our relationship to get things going on the right track: in other words, we want to be less physical and more spiritually uplifting. Dude, even I'm intimidated by such a daunting task. But we want our relationship to be something good for the both of us; the purpose of a Christian dating relationship is to support and rebuke and encourage one another in the direction of spiritual maturity. And no, don't freak out and think I'm going Puritan on you guys or anything, I still definetely enjoy kissing and the odd harmless make-out session, there's nothing wrong with that at all...but it is a problem when the relationship is based on l

Typically, I'm a pretty laid back person; not too much fazes me in general. But anticipating a talk with someone where I don't know the subject always makes me anxious. They're also the times I pray out loud to God, not just in my head, but verbalizing myself to the ceiling fan because I'm so nervous. Dave is anti-Starbucks, but has just suggested we go out to one this morning - he wants to talk to me. As usual, I've analyzed the wordology to death, and I don't think it's anything bad, but I'm still anticipating a talk where I don't know what the content will be. So my anxiety kicks into high gear and God gets an audible earful of it as I ask him to give me peace and to calm me down. So, this is part of releasing my anxiety - just turning it into black and white letters so I can analyze my own thoughts as well. Wait, this just in - he wants a nap first so he's delaying meeting for another hour. AGH. The agony of waiting!! But I guess I'm not

At work yesterday, I was checking out one thirty-something man as the twenty-something man behind him waited his turn. It's worth the time to type this out. The first man in line was very chatty as I scanned grocery after grocery. He was being friendly so I played along; better friendly than surly. Halfway through his cart-load, though, I realized that he was being friendly to the point of flirting with me, which was a little bizarre, especially because he's obviously 30-something and I'm obviously college-something; and more especially, I had my hair thrown back in a mildly-tamed braid with my dull teal work shirt. He made a big fuss about giving me exact change, proclaiming that he deserved a sticker or something for going to all that trouble, smiling widely at me. To appease him, I said "Well, I can write 'Congrats' on the back of your receipt or something." "OK, do that, but it only counts if you sign it." OK...So his receipt printed, I wrote