Post.

"To the girl who has replaced me..."

"To the girl who has replaced me... 

"There are a couple of things that I thought I should tell you. I learned these while I was the object of your guy's affection.

"First of all, don't be frightened if he smothers much more love on you than you had expected. Don't be surprised if he treats you much better than any other guy you have ever met. And let it not scare you that he will actually listen carefully to every word you say, even when you're just speaking quietly. Also, you should know that he remembers everything you say. He can easily pick out a dissimilar tone in your voice and he'll try in every way to make you smile, and if you don't, he'll become upset if you refuse to tell him what's wrong.

"He hurts easily, especially by the painful words or actions a careless girl will say or do. If you do hurt him, then you'll have to pay the price of seeing the broken look in his gorgeous, deep-brown eyes, and watching the light in them fade. You'll also have to hear the sharp tone and possible crack in his voice, because he, unlike most guys, cares enough about you that he just may try to hide his hurt. If this happens, all is not lost-- a kiss, an "I'm sorry" and an "I love you" can heal almost anything. And please, don't say "I love you" to him, unless you honestly mean it. Nothing hurts him more than someone who really doesn't care.

"Most of the time, he won't tell you what he is feeling, but… just know that he's protecting you and if you ever feel that something isn't right, just look into his amazing eyes and you will be able to see into him. You can see everything he is feeling, everything he is thinking, everything that isn't right with him. He won't ever try to hurt you, because he just isn't that way, so please, don't hurt him, because if you do, I don't think I could ever forgive you. I don't think there could ever be a worse feeling in the world than knowing that you have the guy that I love and knowing that you hurt him.

"You should know that if you two ever get into a fight, make sure to pick only the ones that are worth fighting for; he will almost always keep his temper and will never curse at you or call you names, despite the anger he may be feeling. He likes a small fight every now and then-- he likes to watch your face light up in frustration, because he knows that the second he plants a kiss on your lips, nothing about the argument will matter anymore. He may become slightly jealous when you mention other guys, but don't mistake that to be controlling or overbearing-- he just worries that you may leave him for somebody "better than him" (although we both know that there is nobody "better than him").

"Though he may act mature 99.9% of the time, you'll find that once he's given you his heart, he will begin to open up to you and his silliness will make your heart smile in a way that words just can't explain. Don't hold a tight grip on him; let him be a part of the world so he can experience new things. You will find that he is a busy guy and he is very much independent. Sometimes, he'll need his space, especially when he has things to think about, but don't worry-- he'll always make time for you and even when you're not around, you'll be in his thoughts. And you must be patient when he takes his time to think, but just know that he'll always come back to you when he's ready.

"He may become impatient at times-- waiting has never been his best forte. You will find that he isn't like any other guy that you have met, so please don't take him for granted. When it comes to his money, don't take advantage of that, because he will be so unselfish with it-- that's just the way he is.

"Remember, he likes brunettes over blondes, pizza or cereal will always win over steak or burgers, Everclear will always be his favorite band, he is able to recite every line from almost every song from the 1990s, and even though he won't admit it, he really does like to be surprised. He is less tough than he may appear-- you just have to take the time to let him bring down his guard. He is so sweet and so amazing, and know that if you ever leave him, you will break his heart apart, the same way that my heart breaks apart as I sit here writing this to you.

"Don't ever try to pull him away from his dreams-- he is going to be an extremely successful musician and teacher, and he won't ever let you give up on your dreams, either. He will encourage you to become everything you can be and he will never, ever let you down.

"He likes it when you kiss his neck and nothing is better than just being with him. Just watch how your hand will fit perfectly into his, and when it does, it seems as if nothing in the world could hurt you, because he is there. And when he puts his arms around you and tells you that you are the only girl he loves, you will know that there isn't any guy in the world better than him.

"Don't ever let him go. You will regret doing so, for the rest of time…

"I promise, you will."

- Lindsey B., November 29, 2006

35 things

1. Does the toilet paper go over or under the roll?

2. Cats? Dogs? Both?

3. Can you eat breakfast for dinner?

4. Cold pizza: yes or no?

5. Is it acceptable to open presents as they arrive or do you have to wait for the actual birthday or holiday?

6. Should the dirty forks and knives go in the dishwasher with the handle sticking out of the utensil tray or down in the utensil tray?

7. Is it acceptable to leave dishes in the sink to "soak" overnight, or do they need to be cleaned before bed?

8. Toothpaste: cap on or cap off?

9. Again on the toothpaste: roll it from the bottom or just squeeze really hard?

10. Are towels a one-time use item or do you use the same towel until laundry day?

11. How about washcloths?

12. Road trip or flying?

13. What's the right thread count for sheets?

14. What brand of toilet paper?

15. Mayo or Miracle Whip?

16. Pepsi or Coke?

17. Can you eat the holiday candy out in the display bowl or must it be left there for display?

18. What is YOUR definition of camping?

19. Turn the thermostat down when you go out or leave it alone?

20. At what point is a garbage bag too full to stuff more trash in it?

21. How many times is it acceptable to hit the snooze button?

22. Thrift store shopping: great deals or gross?

23. How far in advance is it OK to plan a vacation?

24. Restaurant reservations: necessary or too restrictive?

25. Roller coasters: love 'em or hate 'em?

26. More chocolate chips, less cookie or more cookie, less chips?

27. How much orange juice must be left in the container for it to be returned to the fridge?

28. Chip clips or just roll the bag up?

29. Call the doctor or just take some medicine at home?

30. Where is the prime location for the TV remote to stay?

31. Is it OK to have a TV in the bedroom?

32. Should folded clothes be put away, or is it OK to just pull as needed from the basket of clean laundry?

33. Do you need to write a grocery list or just wait until you're walking around the store to figure out what you need?

34. Making the bed: must-do or waste of time because you're just going to get back in it?

35. Is it OK to shave/clip toenails in the living room?

Flanked by the world

After three kids, my friend (in green) scheduled a vasectomy and expressed his concerns about it. Not the physical aspect, but the principle of no longer being able to have more kids. I (in red) attempted to instill a logical angle on the dilemma. His wife (in orange) chimed in.

Where are you. I need you for things like this. I feel alone again.

I think he fucks with you on purpose.
I'm just a Angel and stuff but it's just a hunch.


Jesus?

Yeah

That's what I've been trying to tell people since I was like, 9.

When i was nine i was pretty sure he was outside my bedroom window holding a lantern so i wouldn't be scared.
Just so i had a nightlight

Yeah, well, while he was there I was getting raped by my father. So.
Now I know where he was.

And this is when i wish i could hug you.
Really tight
Till your eyeballs popped out.
That pretty much smacked me in the face.

Sorry...

I never got hit as a kid but i had to watch my stepdad beat my siblings and watch them suffer.
I'd just cry under my blankets.

Mhm...

That's the only time i will go under blankets...if i am crying
Other than that i feel like i can't breathe
I have problems.

I think if God exists, it's not for everyone.
He only decides to help certain people.

And that's why you mock him?

I don't mock him.

you tell me prayer doesn't work either.
Or when i've heard you say, Fuck you God!
I guess it is out of anger.
And hurt.

Prayer doesn't work.
Thats not mocking.
That's just fact.
And when I say Fuck you god, it's literally taunting whatever being is in power - or if nothing is in power, then just back luck and fate.
Neil Garces
2:47pm
Neil Garces

Angelique Bracone
2:49pm
Angelique Bracone
Fuckin' Neil
Neil Garces
2:50pm
Neil Garces
I just made that.
Makes it easier to see what I'm seeing.
Angelique Bracone
2:54pm
Angelique Bracone
Verbatim to thought.
Angelique Bracone
2:54pm
Angelique Bracone

Neil Garces
2:54pm
Neil Garces
Well it makes sense, right?
(and you're unfairly beautiful)
Angelique Bracone
2:55pm
Angelique Bracone
You're crazy
There's prettier girls out there.
Neil Garces
2:57pm
Neil Garces
Naturally beautiful? Not many.
On a night out, maybe 40% of women can be considered "attractive". And by that I mean simply not-unattractive.
Take that 40% and remove their make up.
You're instantly down to maybe 10%.
Now take that 10% and put them in a normal setting like a bedroom or just walking outside, and in normal clothes.
Down to maybe 3%.
You're in that 3%.
And that's not including personality and character.
You take that 3% of girls that can be beautiful without make up and in regular clothes... and add in the probability that that're nice, generous and unselfish souls?
You're in the 0.5%
Angelique Bracone
3:06pm
Angelique Bracone
Thanks for the breakdown. Lol
Neil Garces
3:09pm
Neil Garces
Sorry. Just how I think of things.
Angelique Bracone
3:10pm
Angelique Bracone
No need to say sorry silly
Neil Garces
3:15pm
Neil Garces
but does that prayer chart make sense?
Angelique Bracone
3:54pm
Angelique Bracone
What if you're just praying' and nothing bad happened. Your just talking to God. Like hey, what's up?
I guess it kinda does but idk....i pray not only when bad things happen but when good things happen as well.
But i understand what you're saying too.
i guess that's why we each have our own free will to believe what we think.
And should God exist only he can judge us on how lived our lives.
There is no right or wrong answer.
and i am sure when and if there is a heaven and we get there he'll have minute after minutes of questions from every single person.
Simple just a..why?
Angelique Bracone
4:08pm
Angelique Bracone
I'm sure you have a list of questions, just like i do.
Neil Garces
4:09pm
Neil Garces
99% of all prayers are things like, "Dear God, keep ______ safe, please help ________, and cure _________ of cancer, and protect ___________."
Those are all things that are asking God to change his plan.
Most prayers aren't, "Hey God. What's up? Man today sucked. Anyway. Thanks for listening."
Even when you watch sports, every athlete and fan is praying to God for a certain outcome.
It's all pointless.
Now, that isn't to say that there isn't a God. There could be. But by the very definition of who he is, when we pray and ask him of something, it make no sense.
It's not an opinion.
It's a fact.
Praying for change or help does not work.
Let's say you pray for something to happen. And someone else prays for the opposite. Only ONE of those can come true.
So what does that mean for the other person? They didn't pray hard enough? They weren't Christian enough? God doesn't care as much about that person?
No. What's ALWAYS said is that God works in mysterious ways we can't understand and has a greater plan.
Okay then.
So why pray!??!
You just admitted that he's going to do what he's going to do regardless.
He has his own plan.
So whether or not you believe in God - it doesn't matter. Prayer doesn't work.
If someone shoots a gun at me and I pray I don't get hit, it doesn't matter. I'm going to get hit. You know how many people have died praying they wouldn't?
How many people on the Titanic were praying to God as they drown in the sea?
Probably all of them.
They died anyway.
Why? Either A.) there is no God, or B.) God decided they should die.
Either way, prayer didn't do a damn thing.
It's very basic first grade logic.
Now, if you just want to pray - as you said - to vent. Or share how your feeling... kind of like a mental diary... that make sense.
But then, you're not praying so much as mentally working out your life as anyone else would. The only difference is that other people work it out themselves, and you believe you're talking to a spirit.
They're both the same behavior with the same intention.
Writing a blog, writing a song, thinking about it before you go to bed, venting to God... it's all the same thing.
So.
Yeah. It's not mocking God. It's showcasing logic.
Neil Garces
4:26pm
Neil Garces
get it?
Angelique Bracone
4:29pm
Angelique Bracone
Mhm...now tell me the difference between girls & women.
Neil Garces
4:30pm
Neil Garces
Boob size.
Angelique Bracone
4:30pm
Angelique Bracone
Lol
Sent from Mobile
Choose an emoticon

I bet you already know what you're going to be for Halloween.

I want you to know that you hurt me.

That you have forced me - out of sheer abandonment - to let you go a total of four times now.

It hasn't been easy.

For whatever reason - chalk it up to what your dad did to your mom, what that Don guy did to you, how cold Rit was to you, that Tucker Max book you read, to maybe even how Nick never "chased you" afterwards to your satisfaction - you see cutting line and running away as a sign of strength. To you, the ability to jump ship and destroy every rear-view mirror is always an option. As if ignoring and abandoning require some sort of courage. Perhaps your life experiences have constantly reinforced the idea that running away is always the best choice.

To me, the opposite has always been true. Never giving up. Never letting cynicism getting the best of you. Always seeing the best possible in people, and putting all the chips on the table, hoping for that one chance at happiness. I see disappearing without a word as the ultimate act of cowardice. That's not how adults treat each other.

Unfortunately, we're both stubborn. Did you know you're actually more emotional than I am? You are. The only difference is that your emotions are so powerful that they paralyze you, while my logic lets mine roam free. Both occur in extremes in the two of us.

I have a bad habit of wanting closure, and, if things must end, have them end civilly. I know how time tends to flatten once vibrant colors and how life tempts you to spin a story in your favor just a little more each time you tell it. And then to do so until it's distilled into a sentence or two followed by a shrug. Context and nuances are lost in exchange for apathy.

I've spent so much goddamn energy trying not to hate you. Trying not to listen to what everyone advises and says about you. Trying to explain to everyone that, despite what your behavior and calls and words and actions may seem like to the casual observer, I know you better than anyone, and that, hey, trust me, I understand her.

But with every day that passes, I grow weary. With every new picture you post, with every new bit of news I hear about you from friends, I know you get further and further away from me and closer to forgetting everything. Every day that passes without a call from you, I know another sunrise and sunset has passed with you having a moment where you get the urge to share something funny with me, think about your phone, sigh, and push it out of your mind. I know because I do the same.

Occasionally I'll feel the pressure to succumb and just... paint you black. Cast you as a terrible villain that did nothing but drag me across a grater for seven months after breaking my heart on my birthday. To flip through my mental flashcards of notes about you that I ended up being completely correct about, much to my chagrin. To see every day that passes in silence from you as affirmation that you really are just a cold-hearted, selfish bitch.

That would be the easy "story" to tell myself.

But I refuse to let that be the story. I refuse that to be true. Even if it might be. It can't just be that simple.

It's exhausting keeping it all in perspective alone. It's exhausting just being alone.

Deep inside of me, I hope. I hope that this is not all that simple for you. A part of me tells myself that there's another layer to you in this; that you haven't intentionally forgotten. That maybe a part of you - between all the guys you're juggling - does still care. Maybe, somewhere out there, you wonder if I'm okay. Or how I'm doing. Maybe that part of me is just as wrong and foolish as the rest of me has been. Maybe it's just a placebo effect for my heart.

I want you to know that you hurt me.

And I'm sorry.
And I'm angry.
And also sad.
And resentful.
But I am appreciative.

"I just wanted you to know."

Collar Correction

I have so much hate in me now.

For many, many reasons, I hate how this world works; I hate what it accepts, and the evil it rewards. I hate what it neglects, and the beauty it ignores. I hate the bad people that get away with bad things, and the good people that die early. I hate how my family treats each other, how they treated me, and how I don't feel connected with any of them. I hate what people do to animals, I hate stupid movies with stupid plots and stupid loopholes, I hate bad music because people love it and I hate good music because I didn't make it. I hate how good intentions don't mean anything. I hate how succeeding and making money, regardless of how it's acquired, redeems someone morally. I hate traffic.

I'm at the point where I hate how much I hate.

But you were my one... good... thing in this world. This place I could go to listen to things and smile and laugh and create a bubble of my own in this chaos. This person I could just be myself with. No strings attached. No preliminary requirements. No hoops to jump through. You were a sanctuary away from all the bile and poison and spite I was surrounded by with everywhere else. You were my blue-eyed oasis; undeservedly so, but I felt it, so I made it. I felt invincible next to you. We were mental twins. No one could take us down when we teamed up. Nothing could hurt us - except each other.

And now, I can feel the hate bleeding through the fabric. It's warming. The beads of resentment pooling to the surface. And all the darkness and pain and fury and loathing... The demon is pressing against the warping steel bars on the door of the cage, howling for a chance to take over this depression.

And I fight it. Sweet Christ, do I fight it. Every minute of every day, a sizzling spark of a thought flies through my mind, searching for the fuse to ignite. And every minute of every day, I quickly think of a thought from the opposite side of the spectrum to snuff it out.

But it's getting harder. More difficult. And with each day that passes without a word from you, seeing you smiling in pictures, hearing from friends about other guys, hearing from colleagues about your new jobs, feeling you packing up, moving away, and knowing you're going about it all so cavalier and guiltless... the slow realization that you're content with how our last conversation ended... that not only do you not worry about how I'm doing, but you don't care...

If there's anything I've learned because of you it's how powerful regret can be. And I'm doing everything I can to make sure I have nothing to look back on and wish I did differently. But you doing things right now you won't  be able to take back. Things I won't be able to forgive. Even down the line. It breaks my heart that you're okay with this.

Holding this anger back is breaking me. Against the advice of everyone - family, friends, teachers, your friends, co-workers, therapists - I refuse to lash out. I won't.

I'm not a monster.

You're just creating one.

But he'll stay on a leash, even if it kills me.

"This guy at school committed suicide a couple of weeks ago."
"How?"
"He jumped off a balcony."
"Well, I guess you could say he took his life... for granite?"
"Wow."
"He understood the gravity of the situation?"
"LOL"
"It wasn't an accident because... cement to do it."
"Holy shit dude."
"Life was a joke and he fell for it."
"Hahahahahaha!"
"That was the last one."
"No it wasn't."
"Okay, no one else was to blame because it was... all asphalt."
"That's it, I'm coming home. These are gold."

Blue Cat Blues

Still seems a tad optimistic.

This Is My Life, Rated
Life:	2.9
Mind:	2.1
Body:	2.5
Spirit:	3.5
Friends/Family:	2.6
Love:	Not enough information
Finance:	2.4
Take the Rate My Life Quiz

Fuckin' cheers.

O.C.D.

Serendipity

One day it'll happen.

You'll be standing in line. And you'll see a baby. Just there. Over his mom's shoulder. Quiet. Staring at you with blue eyes. You'll smile at it and think about how cute it is. And something deep inside you won't... immediately dismiss the sentiment of maybe - just maybe - one day becoming a mother.

And over the following weeks, months, and years, you'll start to feel the urge to want to know what it's like to truly have something of your own. Something created inside of you. To experience sharing life with something that can learn from you, 24/7. Grow up next to you. Depend on you. And, later, thank you for all you've done, as you do with your own mother. You'll start thinking about settling down, committing, and finally letting go of that glacier of cynicism that had once poisoned your emotional progress.

And whatever guy you're with at that time will reap all the benefits of your maturing, softening heart. Of your growth. Of your eventual retrospect. Of your wiser philosophies and calmer, pastoral outlook on life. He won't be any different from other guys. He won't possess anything you haven't seen before. And he certainly will not have been there through your darkest hours, your most difficult nights, or your most outrageous and unfair moments. He will not have earned you in any way other than simply coming into the general vicinity of your life after you're all fixed up, shiny and better.

He will enjoy the heat of your fire without ever having to build the pile, or spark the flame himself.

He'll just... be around at the right time.

One day, it'll happen.

'Cause you ain't ever gonna burn my heart out.

No one is going to save you. 

No one has the time to really care about you. Prayers will not fix your problems. 

Another person won't make you feel whole. Very few people have the time to act like friends, and most people secretly want you to fail. They all talk behind your back. Nobody can truly catch you. Everyone is busy. The world, by and large, doesn't give a damn about you. You are on your own. There is no backup. There are no mulligans. There are no reinforcements coming. 

You just have to get fed up, pissed off, and take it all out on Life, hell-bent on revenge for everything that it's taken from you, wrestle it to the ground, and step on it's throat on your way up.

The real world doesn't owe you anything and you don't owe it any mercy.

Kill it. Kill it to live on.

Appreciations.

"You made me confident in myself that it's okay to be me. You gave me hope. Hope that there are good people out there. Hope in life and love and good things. You wrapped it up in a pretty package with a shiny ribbon on it and... I ignored it. I abused it, neglected it. I refused it. I refused to see it. And you just... wrapped it up again and made it glow. You made me see it. That's something... no one else has ever done.

"So... thank you for that."

Hashtag, ditto...

Ainmosni.

I don't dream so much as I begrudgingly become a slave to memories. My reality has yet to surpass the nostalgia of my recent experiences... no matter how painful they ultimately became.

So I fight the urge to sleep the same way a hero in a book scrambles across a tipping trap floor, looking for anything to grasp, as the world tilts him into the abyss below. To fall asleep means to lose control of the mind, and where my mind goes is a place that reminds me of all the perfect moments I am no longer privy to.

 This is not insomnia.

It's survival.

30 Rock On

Just An Abstract Entity

I confess there are times - many times - mornings, sometimes at 1, 2 or 3am, after dropping off friends that live right around that intersection - when I catch myself looking up at your loft window on the third floor. Sometimes it's dark, blinds closed, windows shut. And figure you're out drinking with your new friends or a new guy. Or if you've packed up and moved away.

But every now and then the light will be on, blinds still twisted open... and I can see a new plant you've added and placed on the sill, turned to collect the afternoon sun. I see that rose bush and wonder if the baby spiders it had when you bought it still bother you. And sometimes I wonder why your light is still on at all at such a late hour. Are you reading a book? Did you fall asleep with it on? Are you simply afraid of being alone in the dark? Or are you not alone at all, and you're entertaining another man in your bed, all in the name of "comfort" and "having fun while you're still young", as the adage goes?

But more than that, I look up because I fondly remember.

I remember so many times that I would wake up next to you and watch you sleep with the morning light on your face. And I would make us coffee and look out that very same window, down at the world just beginning to stir; The city itself waking up, slowly grinding like the first spin of a ferris wheel, straining to gain momentum. One car per red light. Then two. Then five. And then within an hour or so, the intersection was buzzing with people and newspapers and the clip-clop of high heels and the incessant beeping of the crosswalk signs.

I remember sitting next to that window at night and looking down at all the people, feeling sorry for everyone out there. Sorry for them because they simply had no idea the magic that was happening up here. None of them knew of the beautiful woman that lived up here and all the power and grace she could wield, if it weren't for her equally powerful vulnerabilities and flaws. And this force of nature was sleeping next to me. Wanting me there. Wanting me to stay. Glad I was there. Calling me her shell. I looked at the world through that very window and felt pity for them; For they all went about their days and night, crossing streets, driving, grumbling to themselves, late for something, trying to find a place to park, standing in line for food... unaware of what goes on up here, in Brittany Marie Conrad's room.

But now, I look up. And now... I am one of those people. The same ant I once pitied. Seeing a light on - often the only one still on in the entire complex - and oblivious of what's happening up there in that room. I gaze up at it like a green light in the mist on the shore across a lake. I'm on the outside now. Outside looking up.

I'm on the other side of that window.

The difference, I suppose, is that I've been privy to the treasures inside that box; Both the blessings and the curses, and everything in between. And it's impossible to be angry and crushed without also feeling gratefulness and tremendous love. I guess nostalgia is a packaged deal.

I can imagine myself, still up there, looking down at me, watching me drive off into the night.

And that U-turn away is always painful.

Flying lessons.

 "Today I was thinking too...and I wanted to apologize for the times I've said, Move on...find someone else...don't answer her call..go out...do things. Having a little time (very little) to myself, I have no fucking idea what to even do when I am alone. So I can only imagine how you feel, and I am sorry for thinking it could be so easy. Cause I know it's really anything but that, it's tough. I needed to tell you and get it off my mind.    

Rest if possible, the days are flying by. Night G."

Perfection

Keeping The Roads Hot

Forever in the shadow of prior tree.

"I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz or arrow of carnations that propagate fire. 

I love you as certain dark things are loved - secretly, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries hidden within itself the light of those flowers. And thanks to your love, darkly in my body lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth. 

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.  I love you simply, without problems or pride. I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close."

How to deal with women: Just ignore the nail.

Shut Up About The Economy

Pundits love to tell us that the American economy is circling the drain due to the recession and politicians throwing money out the window like it's made of bees. To hear them say it, America is always just on the cusp of a Mad Max-style blasted hellscape.

But in the midst of all that doom and gloom, there are a whole bunch of very smart people saying that things aren't nearly as bad as the inflammatory headlines make it look. Now, I'm not saying they're right (spoiler alert: nobody can actually predict the economy), but there's no reason why we should always assume the pessimists are right, either. So if nothing else, it will improve your mood a bit to hear ...

No, China Isn't on the Verge of Owning America

The myth:
American spending is so off the charts that President Obama has to fly to China every year and beg on his hands and knees for the Chinese president to lend America money. With the Chinese owning most of America's debt, it's only a matter of time before China asks for their money back and we all become slaves to the dastardly communists, because that's totally how it works.

The reality:
First of all, China only owns 8 percent of the total U.S. debt. That's not enough to repossess Rhode Island, let alone the whole United States. And Washington isn't begging China for money, either. The debt that we owe to China comes from treasury bonds, which are kind of like IOUs, which they buy because it helps to keep China's currency low, which is better for trade. And because they sell so much shit to America, China basically has to buy our debt as a way to unload the trillions of American dollars we're giving them.

"That'll be $4 trillion dollars, please."

Also, for those worried about China swinging their economic dick around, China can't just recall their debt. First of all, you can't do that with treasury bonds, and even in a fictitious world where you could, it would be economic suicide for China. What, you thought the "debt" was money they lent because they felt sorry for the U.S. and wanted to bail them out, like lending your buddy $30 until payday? Nope. They buy debt because it's a good deal for them.

And while it's easy to panic about the amount of debt that America owes to other countries, people forget that the U.S. buys other countries' debt too, so much that it almost cancels out the issue entirely. For every dollar the U.S. owes a foreign country, it is owed 89 cents in foreign debt. America actually makes more money off of buying other people's debt than other people make buying theirs. And rest assured, those countries are probably also running terrifying ads about cackling American students making fun of their economy.

No, American Manufacturing Isn't Dead

The myth:
All the stuff on your desk right now, how much of it was made in America? How about the clothes on your back? Between Japanese electronics and fabrics made in Asian sweatshops, it seems like we import everything. Mom and Dad will remind you that there once was a time when America ruled the world of manufacturing, but then the cold dark eternal winter came in the form of developing economies stealing all of those jobs.

Nowadays, every factory in America is an abandoned graveyard with a permanent ominous black cloud hanging overhead, and the only thing the Midwest produces is clinical depression.

The reality:
Although China managed to edge the U.S. off of the top seat in manufacturing in 2012, American manufacturing is still a powerhouse. In fact, America's manufacturing output is stronger than ever - it has actually doubled since 1970, and is continuing to climb. And U.S. manufacturing broke record profits in 2011, and manufacturing output is currently 35 percent above pre-recession levels. It just takes fewer people to make all of that stuff because of robots. If you want to get mad at somebody, get mad at them.

So why can't you find anything in your house that's made in America? Because America makes supercomputers and jumbo jets, while countries like China produce all of your cheap consumer stuff. Cheap-labor countries base their manufacturing on having a ton of people who can sit in factories for 18 hours a day assembling iPods. America's manufacturing is centered on its high intellectual capital, which produces more skilled workers able to make far more advanced things with far fewer people. It's estimated that American workers are almost six times more productive than Chinese workers. That's why, in 2009, American manufacturing produced more than China with less than half the workers.

And while the recession may have wreaked havoc on Detroit, the auto industry is also coming back with a vengeance. As of now, the auto industry is on track to reach its record-breaking 2007 sales, and the two companies that received government bailouts? Have paid them back. It won't result in as many high-paying union manufacturing jobs as the "good old days" because, well, we've gotten way more efficient at making things.

Yeah, Illegal Immigrants Appear to Be Helping the Economy

The myth:
Every year, thousands of illegal immigrants pole vault over the southern border and run free in these United States, feeding off the government teat. Once here, not only do they take jobs from honest, hard-working Americans, but they also suck all the money out of social services and don't pay taxes. It's obvious that, if we ever want to get out of this economic slump, we have to round each and every immigrant up, ship 'em all back to Mexico (even the ones that didn't come from Mexico), and fortify the American border with lasers and electric eels.

The reality:
The idea is that these impoverished people cross over, live off the grid, and soak up America's precious tax dollars. But actually it's estimated that illegal immigrants pay $15 billion a year into social services and only take $1 billion out of it. Social services actually relies on illegals' taxes to help the system remain solvent.
How the hell is that possible? Well, for one thing, you can't exist in America without paying taxes - just by living here and buying things, you're paying sales and property taxes. It's true that some immigrants aren't paying income taxes (in America, if your income is low enough, you aren't paying taxes anyway), but somewhere between 50 percent and 75 percent are. On the other hand, very few illegals are able to benefit from Social Security because it's really hard to get it without a legitimate Social Security number.

And then you have the "they're taking our jobs" narrative, but for the most part, illegal immigrants are taking jobs that Americans just won't do - farmers who want to hire Americans are often unable to find people willing to do the work. In Alabama, after they enacted tough new laws to drive out the illegal immigrants, the poultry industry went into crisis because legal Americans would rather be unemployed than spend their days carving up chicken parts.

Then there's the argument that illegals drive down wages, because they're basically willing to work for peanuts, right? Well, it's true that illegal immigrants lower wages somewhere between 0.4 percent and 7.4 percent for low-skilled workers, but for the rest of America, there is virtually no impact on wages. In fact, immigrants actually increase the income of American families a small amount. By taking on the grunt work that Americans don't want to do, immigrants free up skilled workers to do more of the work that they're paid higher wages for.

Boil it down, and the majority of economists agree that illegal immigrants have a net positive effect on the economy. Which seems hard to argue against - if they're "taking our jobs," it means they're working, and getting paid, and spending that money. That isn't bad for the economy - that is the economy.
But while I'm stepping into hot-button issues ...

No, Deficits Aren't Always Bad

The myth:
It's a simple principle - if you make $2 and spend $5, then you are $3 in debt and need to tighten your purse strings, Spendy McSpenderson. But Obama and Congress must have been four hours into a rampant coke binge when this very simple concept was explained to the rest of us and they can't seem to get it through their heads. We're in a recession, and yet they still choose to run deficits, because they're big-spending nanny state socialist wackjobs.

The reality:
The big problem when trying to understand deficit and budget stuff is that everyone wants to compare it to their own household budget (a favorite tactic of pundits). It's understandable that people want to try to simplify the issue, but this is one of those times when simplifying makes it wrong.

While it seems absurd to think that a country, a business, or anyone else can "spend their way out of hard times" (because it sounds like a drunk spending more money on gin in order to forget the problems caused by yesterday's gin), for every government, running a deficit is just something they have to do when the economy is bad in order to keep it from getting worse.

It works like this: When the economy goes into recession, people obviously have less money. That means the government has to cut taxes to give people a break. That means less revenue, and on top of that, the government has to spend more on unemployment benefits, food stamps, and such because a lot more people need them now. So basically the government has less money and higher bills. And you want the government to keep spending that money, not because we're all communists who want to be enslaved by Big Brother, but because that spending helps the government to stabilize the downfall.

The biggest problem with an economic downturn is the potential for a death spiral - you lose your job, so you don't have money to spend at McDonald's, then McDonald's closes and all those people lose their jobs, then they don't have the money to spend at the grocery store, then it closes, etc. The government, however, can use its borrowing power to break that chain reaction - you lose your job, but you have food stamps, which you spend at the grocery store, so it doesn't have to close and its employees can keep drawing paychecks. That way you don't get into a situation where everyone is out of work at once - you keep things afloat until people can find work again.

Then once things have turned around - and this is key - you start paying those deficits back. Oh, look at this - the U.S. deficit has been slashed by a third just over the last few months. How about that.

But the point is, this is why the political arguments about the deficit tend to be somewhat full of shit - it's not a war between the hard-working private sector and the evil oppressive big government. It's about how much money the government should pump into the private sector to keep it afloat, versus how much debt it can take on.

Which finally brings me to...

No, America Doesn't Have a Debt Crisis (Not Yet, Anyway)

The myth:
The United States is spending money like a lottery winner with terminal cancer and racking up debt much faster than it can repay it. The U.S. now owes $16 trillion, a number so high, we don't even know how many zeroes that is. Politicians frequently use a bunch of fancy graphs to highlight the fact that America is running headlong into financial ruin. Washington, they say, is going to have to curb its spending fast or else we're going to wind up like Greece - utter collapse, followed by rioting in the streets (as a common talking point goes).

The reality:
The raw number is mind-boggling, but that number only matters when compared to the size of the economy. For instance, if you personally wound up $20 million in debt, your only option would be faking your own death and starting a new life in some foreign land. Donald Trump, on the other hand, takes on $20 million in debt on impulse purchases he barely notices. It all comes down to how rich you are, and the U.S. economy is the Donald Trump in that scenario (the total assets of the USA are around $200 trillion).

So for instance, one way to measure just how screwed a country is involves measuring public debt against gross domestic product (to compare their debt to their economy). For the U.S., that ratio is 73 percent, which seems high, but it means we're in better shape than Germany, the United Kingdom, Canada, and other countries you don't think of as being on the verge of getting their land repossessed (Japan, for example, is at 214 percent).

Hm. I have no idea why.

The other important thing isn't the amount of money that the government owes, but rather the interest on that amount, which is what it actually pays back. That isn't very much, considering that interest rates are at historic lows - it's very cheap for the U.S. to borrow right now. Also remember that a growing economy can turn the situation around fast - the government took on a lot of debt during World War II, but the growth of the economy afterward made the debt irrelevant.

Now, again, this isn't a "free government jet skis for everybody!" situation. For instance, there is a real problem with the population getting older and the fact that old people are expensive to take care of. But the U.S. is not Greece - the danger is less "Road Warrior apocalypse" and more "higher taxes, later retirement, and possible inflation."

None of those are good things, but let's not abuse the word "crisis" here. It's okay to step back, take a deep breath, and appreciate that things could be much, much worse.

Also, let's remember who put us here.

Ahem.

The "Power" of Prayer

Touche.

"Fuck."

"What's wrong?"

"I just... fuck. I just smashed my toe."

"Little toe?"

"Little toe. On the fucking coffee table. God... dammit..."

"You all right?"

"...yeah. Just... fuckin' hurts. Ow."

"Neil. I need to tell you something."

"Ow. What."

"No, this is serious. You need to hear this. It's very important."

"What."

"You don't need that toe."

...

...

"Oh fuck you."

[we laugh]

*********************

"Did we just say, 'Suck on that,' at the same time?"

"Eeeyup."

"Oh no. We're fucked."

"I love you, too."

"There's only one explanation for two people as self-aware, street smart, full of common sense and intellectually ahead of the curve as we are: Love. Stupid, blind, stubborn, prideful, brimming with brand new emotion love."

"Yeah."

"And I'll tell you something that proves it: We fucked each other up so badly, the we - of all people - genuinely turned to religion briefly. That's how hard we hit each other. How much we're connected."

"...I DANCED WITH A CAT!"

"It's easy to give up something when you're satisfied."

When the world hated you;
When you had no friends;
When your family gave you ultimatums;
When your peers turned their back on you;
When you lost everything;
When you had nothing;
When you stumbled half drunk to your ex-boyfriends house at 3am and pounded on the window in his backyard and argued till he called the cops;
When you sat in the church parking lot, crying and alone;

I answered your call. I kept you company. I made you laugh again. I kept you warm in my car. I drove you home. I wished you well.

And for weeks after, your face and number lit up my cellphone at all hours of the day, night and morning. You called every day, just to talk, just to laugh, just to learn, just to ask for help, just to admit how much you missed me, too.

The one person who should hate you more than anyone else...
The one person who should have ignored you...
The one person who should be relishing in your agony out of vengeful spite...
The one person who should have been so angry at you that they never spoke to you again...

And I answered every one of your calls.

But now I know you were just trying to find peace for yourself. Self-vindication. Redemption. You wanted to "feel comfortable again," because it gave you a sense of stability; And you knew - deep down to your core, you knew - that out of everyone on this planet, I would be the one person that would always talk to you, still listen to you.... still allow you that chance.

You're fine now. Stronger. Better. Moving on. Leaving for a new job.

And I am once again disposed of.

And this is, very truly, not your fault at all.

It's mine.

- n.

*******************

"Call me if you need anything."

"I always do."

Babies

Pings.

"Having a shot of wheatgrass is... a very, very poetic experience."

Go on.

"It's like... drinking grass. It's very earthy. It's fantastic. You feel like home. It's amazing. Almost magical. It reminds you of a freshly cut lawn on a summer day. And, when you're done, you realize why dogs and cats vomit all over the place after eating grass."

That E.E. Cumming or Frost that you're quoting? I can't put my finger on it.

[laughs]

Whitman. It was Whitman, wasn't it.

*********

You were the best I ever had.

"...hashtag: Ditto."

Spielberg's Obama

So much for the afterglow.

So this, I assume, is the part where they say to pull yourself up by your bootstraps and carry on.

This is the part where someone gives me the "plenty of fish in the sea," and all that. Spend a few days or weeks watching sad movies, listening to sad songs, binging on terrible food, and lock yourself away and grieve. This is there part where I'm supposed to call up some friends who can surround me and tell me how victimized I was and assure me of how bad of a person - and therefore a fit - she is. Where we go back and relive it all and pile on all the bad stuff and trivialize all the good. This is where I Google inspirational quotes and pictures and memes and sew them onto my heart as a temporary personal slogan to live by - at least until the sutures heal. 

And this, eventually, is where I'm supposed to start tempering the sting of loneliness by thinking outside the box and focus on learning and extracting wisdom for the future instead of simmering in doubts, regret, and painful imaginations. 

But I don't feel that. 

I don't feel sad. I mean, I know I am sad. But it's... more than that. 

Something broke this time.

I'm supposed to take solace in trying hard, subscribing to the theory that, "If you gave it your best shot and left it all out on the field, you have nothing to be ashamed of." Which I can see how it could be an alluring philosophy. Except that it also proves one agonizing fact: 

Your best wasn't good enough. 

100% of everything you have didn't meet the requirements. You were doomed from the start. Every ounce of patience, logic, and salt in your body was a lost cause. Every time you tried "just one more time," and gave her "just one more chance," and every moment you laughed in bed, on the carpet, with her in your lap, sitting by the sidewalk eating lunch, eating breakfast by the pool, cuddling in the car, walking hand-in-hand around the city... every wonderful moment will end up meaning nothing. Because I wasn't enough. Or I came around at the wrong time. Or she was just in a weird place. Or any other reason. 

That's a fairly awful sensation. Not a fan.

But these days and moments will fade into a haze of memories... first the little ones will go... the winks and smirks and middle of the night cuddles... 
  Then the inside jokes will be forgotten... the clever ones, the perfectly timed jabs, the endless puns, the ones that will never make any sense to anyone else but us...
  Then the words and voices will dissolve and we'll forget what the other sounds like over the years... but strangely, not the laugh...
And then the dates and moments and lunches and evenings spent making love, watching movies, going to the park at night, driving around, the showers, the kisses, the mornings next to each other in the bathroom mirror, the trips to the market, the wine, the sex... the sex...
Until finally, one day, all we will be to each other is a chapter in each other's story. Something that gets encapsulated into an quick anecdote that starts with an, "There was this guy," and ends with, "I wonder..."

But I didn't want her to just end up being a story. I didn't want her to be a lesson. I didn't want her to be relegated to a simple cautionary tale that I share with some friends years from now or end up being a sit-down conversation with the girl I'm explaining my past to.

I just wanted her. 

Very simple. Very pure. Very true.

No one's perfect. She wasn't. She isn't. I'm not. Nor did I ever expect her to be. I love who she is. Everyone has a past and baggage full of mistakes and wishful mulligans. But with her, for the first time in my life with anyone, I acknowledged my past with her in full disclosure - and it allowed me to not only accept the things I cannot change but also to accept what we were and gave me the desire to move forward; It was refreshingly liberating. By opening up and letting go of the burden of my past, the weight was suddenly gone, and I wanted to take her hand and fly. 

Forward.

But she couldn't stop looking back. She couldn't stop going over things ended before with her ex. Even going so far as to not even really end it, but to keep in contact with him, go to dinner with him, call and text him, argue with him, and... 

And I fear it has ultimately sank us both.

There's an engine in both of us that draws us to each other, like magnets. It's wonderful and frustrating and - given the proper circumstance - is something absolutely amazing. But it requires confidence

'Cause she would love this for all the wrong reasons

The Conundrum: Love and Logic :: Death and Life?

"We know these don't go together, so why do we kill ourselves trying to pair our love lives with the logic of the rest of our life?

"Why do we make conscious decisions to take actions that we know will later hurt us? Does the logic of our heart secretly want to hurt us, or to test our rational decision-making skills? Is this then proof that we are really the idiots we make fun of everyone else for being?

"Meet a guy at a party, and you'll have a fun, light-hearted relationship that tears at your heart strings.

Meet a guy at a bar and you'll have sex. Chances are 50/50 that it'll be decent, on a good day.

Meet a guy on the street and a romantic comedy unfolds in your head.

Meet a guy in your apartment building and you'll have to move.

Meet a guy at school and you'll fail the class. Unless he's the studious type, and then you'll never go on a real date.

Meet a guy at work and it will be amazing for a week, a month, a few months, and then it's awkward. And then you might get fired.

Meet a guy at the grocery store and you'll be miserable for half of your twenties.

Never Give All The Heart

Never give all the heart,
For love will hardly seem worth thinking of
To passionate women if it seem certain.

And they never dream
That it fades out from kiss to kiss;
For everything that's lovely is
But a brief, dreamy, kind delight.

O never give the heart outright,
For they, for all smooth lips can say,
Have given their hearts up to the play.
And who could play it well enough
If deaf and dumb and blind with love?

He that made this knows all the cost,
For he gave all his heart and lost.

- W.B Yeats

Muddy water is best cleared by leaving it alone.

"She's not.. a bad person."

"I don't understand how you can sit here and look at everything she did and tell me she's a good person."

"I didn't say she's a good person, per se. Just that she's just not a bad one."

"She's selfish."

"Sure. Probably. Very. And impulsive. Careless."

"You need to get angry at her! Stop being sad and just be mad. I'm tired of seeing you not eating or sleeping or anything and just nothing all the time. We all want our Neil back. She deserves to just be yelled at and told off."

"I'm not going to do what ev -- Look. Here's what I'm not going to do. And I hope any of my ex's give me the same courtesy: I'm not going to hate her just to make it easier to move on."

"I understand that, but what she did - everything - was seriously fucked up. Remember how we stood outside here last year and you told me how stupid I was being for putting up with my man and constantly making excuses for him? That's what you're doing with her. Right now."

"No. I'm not making excuses for her. I'm defining reasons. Excuses are something you use to get out of shit. I don't condone a lot of what she did. I'm just saying... it wasn't all from a bad, horrible, mean place. I just understand her. You guys aren't privy to the side of her that I saw. She's not a bad person. A stupid girl sometimes, yeah. But not bad. She has a good heart. She just tries so hard to be mean sometimes. I think because she feels she has to be."

"How is that different from what I was saying about my husband?"

"Because you were going back to him."

"...and you wouldn't get back with her?"

"Off the top of my head? ...my body would love to. Of course. But I know I probably can't. I know myself. I have an impossible time trusting, and... You can lie to me, hit me, yell and scream and hide things, insult me, argue, whatever. I can talk it out, connect dots, negotiate, compromise and rationalize with calm and logic forever. But the cardinal sin is cheating. In her words: That's a bell you can't un-ring. I don't think I could go back to that. Put all my eggs in the basket with that one. It's all gone now."

"Because she's an awful person inside! You're defending her, and I can't stand it."

"I'm telling you, everything she did wrong, she feels bad for. Somewhere. I know I do. She'll never say it to me... or admit it... or even show it. But she feels awful about it. When she cried to me apologizing for everything, asking me for another chance and everything... there was make up everywhere and we both sounded awful. She made mistakes. I did, too. But when it comes to feeling regret and wishing we didn't fuck up, we're both genuine. She fucked up, true, but I just... I'm telling you. She's not bad."

"And what if you saw her again?"

"...honestly?"

"Of course."

"I'd probably be paralyzed."

"Like, scared of her?"

"No... no, more like... I dunno. Paralyzed. Unable to speak. Think. Move."

"What do you think she's doing now? This second?"

"Now? Well... if I know her at all... probably doing the whole boot strap thing."

"I don't - I don't know what that means, hun."

"Boot straps. Pull yourself up by them. That whole thing. Probably went back to her parents and ex and just confessed and dropped all the bombs on them and everything - her version, where I'm some bad guy - and hoped for the best. Her parents would never abandon her. They'll help her out, emotionally, whatever. Scold her for a bit. But she's too smart and pretty enough that the world can't refuse her for too long. So she's probably doing some reset button action where she looks back at me like some big mistake. Compartmentalizing the whole thing to trivialize it. Probably doing the whole eating-right-and-working-out-again cliche. And I'd wager she's going to do the, 'I'm single now so let's take advantage of it, I'm a woman hear me roar' thing where she goes out and... does what pretty girls do. ...I really don't want to think about it."

"She doesn't seem like a very humble person."

"Ah, no, she hasn't quite learned that element yet."

"I'm sorry, hun."

"But... for now, the memory of us is probably going into a box in the attic of her mind where she can ignore it for a while."

"I don't see how she could do that. Not after everything. Not after what you two went th--"

"No, she can. She has a very strong will to suppress things she doesn't want to deal with. She's fantastic at ignoring stuff during the day. But at night... when she's alone in her bed... or, god forbid, not alone... if her and I are anything alike... I'll pop up in her mind. I know that... It'll always make me sad."

"You're still inside your little box, hun. A little bubble. You can't see it all. She was awful. I really think you can't see what we all see."

"I can. In fact, the fact that I'm not going to just make it black-and-white and say, 'Fuck that whore!' and move on, should show you that I'm analyzing it pretty well. There are a lot of shades of gray and subtleties that I can't explain. 99% of the time it was amazing. She was amazing. We were amazing. It's that 1% that killed it; That you're all aware of."

"That still makes her a bad person, hun. If she did what she did, I don't care if it was once or twice or a hundred times, she did it. She made her choice. She's not a good person."

"I just... don't think she's a bad person. A bad person would be happy or proud of what she did. I guarantee you, wherever she is, somewhere out there, she isn't. A bad person would do it all over again exactly the same. But I bet my life that if you were to rewind time, show her this current reality as only a possible ending, she would avoid it. I don't know how far back she would rewind, but she wouldn't hurt me like this again."

"I think you're probably giving her too much credit."

"I don't think you're giving me enough."