This decade was stupid. Bring it on 2010...I have learned things.

2000: I firmly believe that I'm the only woman that started her period two minutes before the ball dropped us into this year. There were boys there, okay? It was humiliating. Too much info? Don't read my blog then. 

Also the year I entered high school. Bad hair and bras that were too big (denial). Puberty is the worst, especially when you're the oldest child with no douchey, uncool older siblings to learn what not to do from. 

Cheers to you, 2000.

2001: I don't remember much about this year besides getting my driver's license and starting to date my first boyfriend, Mike. I had an '89 Bonneville/sex machine and was convinced that I'd be married with children by the age of 23. 

Awkward, pubescent cheers to you, 2001.

2002: Let's see. I would've entered my junior year of high school now. I was huge into choir and more into chamber choir because we danced. Um, I quit the basketball team in order to begin my waitressing career at Bob fucking Evan's. This is also the year I started going to weird "rock" concerts with my friends that haunt me to this day. (Nickelback)

Indifferent cheers to you, 2002.

2003: The beginning of senior year. Oooo doggy! I really don't remember much of 2003. I do remember that my dad died in April of this year and that it straight fucked me up for a solid three years after. I'm okay now, though. I love and miss him every day. RIP Papa.

Get fucked, 2003.

2004: This year began my 1,460 day drinking binge. Undergrad at OU. Hey, I had fun, I graduated, whatever. I also met a lot of fantastic people that are now all getting married and stuff. This is also the year that I heard The Shins' song "Caring is Creepy"which led me to seek out other new bands that led me to fall in love with a new boy who helped me realize that I wasn't dealing with certain issues appropriately which led me to become the strong-ish lady that I am today. 

This year I also discovered my affinity for shoulder bopping and just how many friends/lovers this single dance move can get a woman.

Appreciative cheers to you, 2004.

*It's at this time in my life I should've thanked my Mom, Grandma, Poppy, Brother, and Sister for putting up with my bullshit and loving me through it all. I am still a loser but a much more appreciative loser because of you all. All my love to the moon and back forever. XO.

2005: Drunk. Study. Exam. Work. Drunk. Home for holidays. Drunk. Study. Exam. 

Just cheers.

2006: Drunk. Study. Exam. Work. Drunk. Home for holidays. Drunk. Study. Exam.

Just cheers.

2007: Drunk. Study. Exam. Work. Drunk. Home for holidays. Drunk. Study. Exam.

Just cheers.

2008: Huzzah! Piece of paper stating my very expensive education actually happened retrieved. Move to Chicago accomplished. Reunited with best friend from high school in small garden apartment. More new friends. Many jobs. Very poor. Baby kitten, The Future, retrieved! Drunk. 

Feverish cheers to you, 2008.

2009: This year has been incredibly wonky. Up, down, bop around, twist, turn, scream, laugh, love. Lots of love, yes. New, improved living situation. Actual job as friend to insane people but still very poor. ROTHBURY. Uncle teabags, so many of them. San Francisco. Love. Laughs, hard ones. More new friends = super family love action party pants explosion. 

Wide-eyed, very absorbent cheers to you, 2009.

2010: Seriously, bring it. I've learned some stuff.

Q: How did the past decade feel? 

A: Pretty much like I was trying to hump a bear: see above.

avoiding paperwork

You know. I've been working with mentally ill people for almost a year now and I still can't decide whether they are more free or more trapped than the rest of the population.

The facility that I work in is by no means a "lock down" or anything close. Our residents, the ones that are mentally and physically capable of doing so safely, are free (and encouraged) to go out into the community as they please. Some of them go out for walks along the lake, some go pan handle at the Jewel Osco until they make enough money to buy a King Cobra, some frequent local coffee shops and do odd jobs like take trash out in order to earn a free cup 'o joe. So, aside from financial limitations and a curfew rule most of the residents here have total freedom.

Now I ask myself, "Okay, but how free can you be when your thoughts are clouded with voices?" 

It's not freedom in the sense that most people think of it but these people are the only people I've ever met who are 100% themselves all of the time and no one judges them for it. And if people do judge them as soon as they find out that they're schizophrenic or bipolar their actions are usually excused. They aren't putting on fronts for anybody because they can't. Symptoms of mental illness can certainly come and go but when I come to work and the first thing I see is a fifty year old man doing the dance that he has to do before getting on the elevator which often causes him to miss it when it comes, I always think to myself, "Holy shit, that is serious honesty." Imagine not being able to be anything other than what you are. 

I'm not saying that being mentally ill is super cool and us freedom seekers should strive to get diagnosed but I am saying that I love these people and admire their gusto. Not all have gusto, but just like the rest of the population the ones that do are pretty memorable. Already today I've gotten three high fives from different residents. Good, strong high fives, too.

Sidenote: There's currently a pretty big debate going on in the state of Illinois that directly affects the people that I work with. Some big-whig douche bags think it'd be great to make more money by closing residential facilities like the one I work in down and placing the people that live in them into group homes spread throughout Chicagoland where they would have little to no structured care. The bottom line is that these people are living here for a reason. They need a nursing staff to dispense their meds, they need their meals prepared for them, they need continuous support from social workers. So, if you feel that this is ridiculous and have a chance to vote or stand up for a lot of people who have trouble standing up for themselves then please be my guest.

You have permission to do me.

Is there anything about this picture that isn't the sexiest thing you've ever seen? 

The answer is no.

But also, I had sex with this man's man in my dreams last night and it was "The Notebook's" sex scene multiplied by more awesome. Holy crap. I would've been content never opening my eyes again after that. In my dream he told me that, "I don't have anyone sensual in my life. I need you to be that for me." Um, yes. Anything you want me to be, Mr. Gosling.

But also, this man's lips actually kissed my face a couple months back. Yea. It was cool. I am so pathetic. But he is so hot. And even more so in person. 

Okay, I'm going back to sleep where I will attempt to lucid dream him back into my bed.