Dating Profile

The worst part about going through a break up is the knowledge that one day, you'll have to take another plunge into the icy depths of the dreaded dating pool (you know, the one you thought you were finally done swimming in?).  It's perfectly fine to enjoy living the single life, of course, but let's be real-no one wants to end up alone.  If you read my last blog post, you know that I'd been struggling with the lingering effects of heartbreak.  It's been a few months now, and over the course of that time I've gotten more than a fair share of advice from friends, family, and a Pinterest link or two (or fifty).  Nothing groundbreaking, as heartbreak is something that all of us experience on some level during our tenure as humans.  Anything that can be said on the subject has already been said a trillion times.  Still, it was helpful to hear other people's tales of despair and the steps they took to overcome them.  Lean on your friends, watch lots of comedies, stay active, give it time, blah blah blah.  I didn't stumble across anything that I wasn't already doing.  As time went on, though, I started hearing a new suggestion, and a terrifying one at that.  "Maybe you should start looking for someone else."  Someone else?  After having my fragile heart completely blown to smithereens, I was expected to find someone else to give it to and hope that it wouldn't happen again?  There were six years in between my last two relationships, so it'd be okay to wait another six before I dated again, right?  That would only put me at...at...oh god. That would put me at 34 years old.  I suppose I can see where people are coming from.  

Dating sucks for anyone, but it's particularly difficult for someone who doesn't have a whole lot to offer.  Before my sweet friends get their undies in a bundle over that statement, let me explain.  I know that I'm a nice person, and I have a few good qualities.  I'm sure that dinner with me wouldn't make for a completely unbearable evening.  Imagine, though, me trying to secure a date the modern way-you know, via a dating website.  I'm not knocking the matcharmooskfish.com users out there.  I know quite a few people who have had success with those sites.  Unfortunately, I had enough trouble trying to make myself interesting in my 140 character Twitter bio.  I'm not adventurous, stable (financially, or sometimes even mentally), thin, highly educated, or well traveled.  Purely out of curiosity, I googled "online dating profile examples."  If I were to make one, it would end up looking something like this:

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Name: Cherrie. No no, really.  Not like "Cherry."  I'm not a stripper, I swear. 

Age: 28. No, that's not my biological clock you hear, it's just the timer on my Easy Bake Oven. 

Interested in: Men.  Bitches be crazy. 

Lives in: The basement of a house owned by people much younger and far more put together than I am.  Oh, you meant TOWN? Danbury. Forget that other thing.

Ethnicity: White.  Can't tell you much more, my parents don't know their own heritage. 

Body type: Depends on how much pasta I've eaten that week.  

Height: Ugh, don't worry, I won't wear heels around you.

Drinks: Socially.  Or when I'm sad.  Or when I'm happy.  

Smokes: No way! Though there's always the possibility it can happen if I'm drunk and in a social situation.  Or drunk and sad.  Or drunk and happy.  

Occupation: Childcare.  Sorry, I'll be eternally broke.  But I promise that I don't care about how much you make if you don't care about how much I don't make!

Children: Ehhhhh, it would take a miracle to get me to change my mind.  Or an accident.  

Faith: None.  Not in a god nor in humanity.

About Me:

Uh....well, let's see.  I like pizza more than I'll ever like anything or anyone.  I often wear blue lipstick and eyeliner wings so sharp they could cut a diamond.  I've re-read the entire Harry Potter series more times than I have fingers.  Moms don't usually like me, so chances are yours won't either.  My friends call me "opinionated," which is just a nice way of saying that I will defend my thoughts and ideas until I've annoyed you so much, you won't want to talk to me anymore.  I don't have a "real career," so I hope you don't mind our picket fence being painted with whatever color is in the clearance section at the local Walmart.  I'm not sure I own any piece of clothing that could be considered "conservative," so you may not want to bother introducing me to your grandparents.  My family is crazy.  Not the cute kind of crazy, the way that girls in movies describe their families before they bring a guy home to find everyone quietly bickering at the table over something that'll be resolved before the 88 minutes are up, but the kind of crazy that you see in those sad "Intervention" type shows.  I talk way too much.  I laugh so loud that my own nephew is terrified of me.  I ask a million questions during a movie, even if it's your first time seeing it too.  I don't know anything about cars, technology, or anything that has wires.  I will never care about having money.  A big house, fancy car, and designer clothes are not things I ever care to acquire.  I'd rather sleep in your t shirts instead of sexy pajamas.  I can probably outdrink you.  I will probably brag to your friends about being able to outdrink you.  I wake up about 4-5 times a night.  I snore when I'm stuffy.  I refuse to watch horror movies.  I don't know how to tie a tie.  I often twirl around and sing, despite lacking the grace and vocal range required for such a task.  I'm incapable of taking a sip of something without basically qualifying for a wet t shirt contest.  I listen to the same music that I listened to when I was a kid.  There will never be a Britney Spears album that I won't own.  I like romantic comedies and I watch Sweet Home Alabama about once a month.  I'll never order a salad.  I'm extremely stubborn.  I swear like a truck driver.  If you want to spend your life with a total weirdo, feel free to message me!

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See the problem?  Honestly, I simply trust that the Universe will point me in the direction I'm supposed to go, so I'm not in too much of a hurry to get back out there in any serious way.  I do wonder what kind of feedback I'd get if I actually created a profile using all of the above honesty, though... Perhaps an experiment for the future!  Right now, I'm content  with how my life is going.  I'm loved by a crazy family, I have at least 3 pizza places on speed dial, and I have plenty of dresses to twirl in.  There's not much more to life than that.  Those who disagree need not apply. 

peace & pizza,

C

Disease

I haven't had my heart broken in about 8 years.  Until now, obviously, or I wouldn't have opened with that sentence.  For almost a decade, I've been able to keep my tender, squishy heart frozen in contentment.  I've only had to endure two painful breakups before now, and I'm astonished at both how similar and completely different they feel.  Nausea, swollen eyes, a seemingly endless supply of warm tears, 'round the clock tightness of the chest, the constant flood of memories that must be shoved to the back of the mind AT ALL COSTS so as not to succumb to the panic that's just waiting for you to let your guard down-those things happened following each breakup that I experienced.  The difference between each is the severity of those symptoms.  I say "symptoms" because heartbreak takes a physical and mental toll on a person and can last for weeks or even MONTHS (cue fresh tears and an audible crack of my heart).  OH GOD, SOMEONE GET ME A CUPCAKE.

My first experience with heartbreak occurred at age 19, and while I'm aware that 19 is young, I don't think it's fair to insinuate that my youth meant my feelings were not valid.  We dated for almost a year and a half, he was the first person that I said the words "I love you" to, and when it ended, I was devastated.  It was my call, and the right one, but I still felt empty and broken.  A (now) funny, very dramatic quote from a journal entry at that time: "The past 3 1/2 hours have been agony.  I wonder what I did to deserve such a harsh punishment.  Yes, I feel sad, but that's not all.  I feel betrayed, angry, confused, frustrated, and alone."  That was October 17, 2005.  It was two days after the breakup, and only three weeks before I met the person who would be the next to break my heart.  Three weeks doesn't seem like a long time (mostly because it isn't), but they were, as my teenage self so poetically described, agony. 

While my first heartbreak may have only lasted for about as long as it takes to blink your eyes, my second felt like it lasted months.  Technically, that's because it did.  The initial end of the relationship was followed by many months of attempted reconciliation, which obviously made the healing process quite difficult (i.e. impossible).  It took about 8 months of that roller coaster before I swallowed the hot coals of acceptance and flung myself off the ride.  The following is NOT, I repeat NOT an excerpt from a forgotten Days Of Our Lives script or MTV reality show, but is a quote from my journal around August 2007: "The person that I love more than anything is less than 4 miles down the road, but at the same time, he's a million miles away.  How did this happen?  What about me is not worth it?"  The real question is, HOW DID I NOT GO INTO DRAMA?  What a waste of one of the few talents I seem to possess... In any case, that pain was worse than that of my first heartbreak, and it took me significantly longer to recover from.  I tried dating other guys, most casually, one seriously, but it turns out that if you aren't over someone, dating other people is a fucking drag.  The "serious relationship" that I mentioned did not end in heartbreak (for me, anyway).  I was sorry to have hurt him, but I didn't love him, so there was no pain or confusion to dwell on after it ended.  That was in 2008, and I'd spend the next 6 years not bothering with love at all.  I had "things" with a few guys, but nothing serious enough to consider calling them boyfriends.  Honestly, that suited me just fine.  I am not the type of person that cannot function alone.  I truly enjoy my own company and don't believe in the idea that you need another person to feel whole.  A person should complement you, not complete you.  I didn't meet anyone that sparked a fire in me, so I didn't feel like I was missing out. 

Cut to about a year ago: after a few months of friendship, I realized that for the first time in a long time, there WAS a fire.  The situation seemed impossible, the waters ahead rough at best.  I jumped in anyway, and wholeheartedly.  To jump in and risk pain or stay out and feel nothing?  No brainer, in my opinion.  If you have two options and one of them is love, always choose love.  No amount of heartbreak will ever keep me from making that decision.  Love is always worth the risk.  Clearly, it did not end as I'd hoped, so now that I'm in the throes of heartbreak again, I'm feeling all of the aforementioned symptoms in more severity than I have experienced thus far in life.  I think there are two reasons for that-it's the first one that I've experienced as a "real grownup" (however terrible I am at being one of those), and I had a certain vision for my future with this person.  A vision which seemed more attainable and realistic than any past future I'd imagined.  The second reason is that it's the first relationship of mine that has ended with neither party having done anything "wrong."  It's much harder to accept something terrible in your life when you don't have anything to blame it on.  The hard part now will be attempting to move on while not dwelling too much on the "what could have been"s or the "if only I had..."s.  My previous breakups left me angry, and the idea of wishing those guys well was laughable at the time (though I do now!).  This time is different, and I wouldn't dream of wishing a great person anything less than a wonderful life.  Maybe I am a decent grownup after all!

I'm no relationship expert and I'm smart enough to know that as humans, we'll never really know shit about life, but I do know that I'm incredibly lucky to have had my heart broken a few times.  I mean that, and it's because I know that love is truly the most important and greatest thing that life has to offer.  Having a broken heart just means that I've been fortunate enough to experience love, and I will never regret any decision that led me to it. 

Here's to hoping that it doesn't take another decade to find me again.

xxxC

Birthday

I take birthdays very seriously.  I believe that everyone should.  While there are many holidays sprinkled throughout the year, only one of those three hundred sixty five days is dedicated to the fact that you exist.  Birthdays are a reminder that you are seen.  You are celebrated.  You matter.

It's also the one day a year that you can eat an extra cupcake and no one will remind you that you're supposed to be on a diet.

Gifts are nice, sure, but I truly believe that the most important aspect of a birthday celebration is not the presents, but the PRESENCE (see what I did there?).  I've received many lovely and thoughtful gifts over the years, but what I appreciate the most is the effort that my friends and family make to ensure that I feel special every November 1st.  Gifts may be broken, lost, or discarded over time, but memories are forever (Alzheimer's aside).  Even friendships that did not last are important.  When I look at past birthday party pictures and see the faces of people who are no longer a significant part of my life, I feel nothing but grateful.  They were there.  They cared.

I think it's sad that as the number on the candles increase, a person's excitement about their birthday decreases.  I cannot imagine not wanting to celebrate in some way, however small.  You truly don't know if everyone you love right now will still be here when you celebrate your next birthday.  Just look at how many loved ones you've lost along life's journey already.  While your next birthday may not be your last, it may be the last one you get to spend with someone that means the world to you.  If you knew who would not be alive the next time you blew out the candles, would you choose to celebrate it differently? 

On Saturday, my candles will say "28."  I've survived for twenty eight years, and I'll be damned if I'm not going to celebrate that.  A lot has happened in that time, and there was never a guarantee that I would have even made it this far.  I may get lucky and have another sixty birthdays in my life.  I may not be, and this could be my last.  Either way, I'm going to do what I've always done.  I'm going to paint my nails with extra glitter, throw on my tiara and party dress, and laugh as much as possible with the people that I love most.  For one day this year, I'm going to let life be all about me.

And you can bet that I'll be eating that extra cupcake.  Guilt free.

xo C

Crisis

I would say that I've been having a quarter life crisis, but I feel that would be dishonest.  I have no idea how long I will be on this Earth, so it very well could be a midlife crisis, or an end of life crisis.  To avoid misspeaking, I'll instead just say that I've been having a plain old regular life crisis. 

Recently, I moved in with my cousin Candace and her husband James.  I'm not sure if this change is what caused this life crisis, or if this life crisis is what caused me to move in with them, but the "why" is unimportant.  The point is, I'm in crisis, and it happened around this time.  Candace and James are both years younger than me, but years more mature than I am.  They are married, own a home, and have a baby on the way.  I, on the other hand, repel men, have lived in 13 different places throughout my life, and spent Candace's baby shower vocalizing how thankful I was for an empty uterus.  I thoroughly enjoy living with them, and I mention this because I feel that it's necessary to point out that they are in no way the cause of my unease.  On the other hand, living with people who are far more put together than you are CAN cause you to ask yourself questions like: Is that my biological clock ticking?  Should I try a dating website?  Do I need to take people's advice and tone down my outrageous personality?  Should I start looking into a 401K?  What am I DOING with my life? Fortunately, my attention span is short and I can easily distract myself from these scary questions.  Unfortunately, I get distracted from my distractions and then end up at square one again.  It's really an exhausting process.  

In my journal, I refer to the main aspects of my life that need to be worked on as "The Big Four."  They are, in no particular order-Health, Debt, Career, and Love.  Because these things take up such a large amount of my attention (though not enough apparently, considering I'm unsuccessful in each one), it's not hard to see why I would be so stressed out by them.  Unfortunately, I am not the type of person that responds to stress by setting goals and tackling the issues head on.  I'm the type of person that sets goals and then forgets what they were, then eats a cookie to make myself feel better about that.  

I had planned to figure out exactly how to tackle The Big Four during my vacation (which I am on right now), and I have made a small amount of progress.  But after giving it some serious thought, what I fear is that I will never be fully satisfied in those aspects of my life anyway.  Won't I ALWAYS need to worry about and actively work on my health?  Won't there always be a credit card to pay off?  Will any job make me truly happy?  And I could get married, pop out some kids, and end up divorced like half the country anyway.  After I sat down to revise my funeral plans this evening (yes, I've planned my own funeral.  I'm a control freak, yadda yadda yadda, it's MY DAY AND I WANT IT DONE RIGHT!), it suddenly hit me-who cares?  Who cares if it takes me forever to pay off my debt?  There's no doubt that it will, so why stress about it?  Why freak out about eating a fucking cookie or six once in a while, as long as it isn't every day?  Do I really need to rush back into school to end up as jobless and desperate as at least half of the people that I know?  And relationship wise, I'm not going to date someone just for the sake of having a boyfriend.  I often hear "I just want to see you happy!" and I'm unsure as to why some people think that happiness = boyfriend.  Happiness is not something that should depend on anyone else!  

In conclusion, after crying a few tears about my future death, I feel at peace about the path that I'm on.  I have no idea what I'm doing, but I never have and probably never will.  In any case, I can officially put the whole life crisis thing to bed, which is a good thing because this NyQuil has me tired too.  

Peace, Love, & Sleep Aids,

Cher

Dating Requirements Part 2

I've blogged about my "dating requirements" before (http://smilesandtribulationsoflife.blogspot.com/2012/01/this-is-oprahs-idea.html, if you care to peek), and while all of those things still stand true, I feel that those requirements do not paint the full picture of what I'm looking for in a significant other.  Hence, Part 2.

I CAN'T DATE YOU IF YOU'RE PRETTIER THAN ME
I know a few "pretty boys," and while they're lovely people, they just aren't the type of people I want to date.  No, you don't need to be an outdoorsman who spends his free time braving the elements and sporting a diesel beard, but I like guys with dirt under their nails and stains on their work clothes.  I don't want to have to share a bathroom with someone who owns more hair products than I do.  Lots of girls are into guys who look like Jersey Shore cast members.  I don't even want to date someone who can tell me who any of those people are.   

I DON'T WANT TO DRIVE YOU AROUND
I'm by no means traditional.  If you expect me to wait in the car while you get out and walk all the way around to open my car door for me, you're crazy.  I'm not royalty.  But after years of being the girl who drives her boyfriends around EVERYWHERE, all of the time, there is no way I'm going to let it happen again.  I've got no problem driving to your place, driving us around when it's my idea, but if you just want to save your gas by making me drive, forget it.  And yes, that is an actual excuse I've been given by a guy.  Don't ask what I was thinking.

MY FAMILY HAS TO LIKE YOU
I've always stressed how important it is for a guy to like my family, but it's just as important for them to like you.  They are insane, gossipy, dramatic, and absolutely beautiful people.  I wouldn't trade any one of them for the world.  It's pretty easy to make them like you (just show up with beer), so if they don't, I know there's a problem. 

YOU HAVE TO BE HANDY
I own one tool, and it's a hammer.  If something breaks, I call my Dad, my uncles, my guy friends-anyone who I think could help me with the problem.  It would be awfully convenient not to have to go through these channels and to just have a boyfriend who knows how to fix things.  Of course, in my observations over the years, I've learned that in many cases, men don't actually know how to fix things right away.  They occasionally make a small problem a lot worse before they figure out how to fix it.  However, they are a proud species, and always get the job done somehow.  That's really all that matters. 

GIRLS ARE HUMAN 
I saw an interview with Kim Kardashian once where she was asked how many times a day she poops-she said "Never! Girls don't poop!"  I've heard this many times throughout my life when girls are asked about farting or pooping, and most of the time girls react like Miss Kardashian.  Really?  We're too embarrassed about having a normal bodily function that we can't even openly talk about the fact that we do it?  Some guys think it's cool to break wind whenever they feel the need, but girls have to pretend that they don't?  Hate to break it to ya, but we do.  I know lots of guys that think it's gross when girls fart, and I know lots of guys who don't care.  If you fall into the first category, I'm shaking my head at you.

I HAVE THE RIGHT TO WEAR ALL OF YOUR HOODIES
I think this is a basic right in a relationship and doesn't need further explanation. 

KEEP THE TOILET CLEAN
I could care less if you leave the seat up or down.  Some girls go crazy when a seat is left up.  I just feel that everyone should check the area they're about to sit their bare ass on, and then no harm done.  What WILL gross me out is if you don't lift the seat and instead piss all over the area I'm expected to sit.  Like I said, I do check before I sit down, but that doesn't mean I want to be cleaning your urine from an area that you shouldn't be contaminating in the first place.  Indoor plumbing should be a sign of civilization. 

LIVE A LITTLE
A lot of the adults that I encounter look serious and boring.  I see lots of marriages/relationships with people who look miserable.  The most important relationship requirement I have is that I'm with someone who always wants to have fun.  I don't mean someone who is a party animal who constantly wants to go out-I mean someone who can find the fun in any situation...even if that situation just involves a couch and 'The Big Bang Theory' on DVD.  Some people are always striving to get MORE MORE MORE out of life, instead of realizing that life is only RIGHT NOW.  I can't be with someone who can't appreciate that.  If you aren't satisfied with a few drinks, Jiffy Pop, and cable television, then I feel sorry for you.  I also can't date you, which makes me feel even MORE sorry for you, because I'm kind of awesome. 

See, I'm really just a simple girl who is looking for simple things.  Which is probably what makes it so hard to find someone suitable.  Life's a bitch like that.

Hungry

The world that we live in can be very overwhelming. I turn on the news, which these days takes a certain amount of bravery, and undoubtedly end up in tears at the end of the segment. There is so much craziness and pain and idiocy going on that sometimes I can't even imagine smiling again. But somehow, I do.  And it's okay to be happy, regardless of the suffering that is endured by so many. It's not selfish-it would be more selfish to be blessed with food, clothing, shelter, and other basic human rights and be a miserable person. It would be a slap in the face to those who are not fortunate enough to have those things.

It makes me sad that we live in a world that cares more about the fact that Brad finally proposed to Angelina than that every 3.6 seconds a human being dies from hunger.  FROM HUNGER.  Many of us have so much to eat that we are obese, using food as comfort from the stress of our busy lives, and billions of people trying to survive on pennies a day.  Sometimes I forget how lucky I am to have been born into a culture where anything is possible.  Even those of us who can barely make ends meet have the option of government support.  How terrifying must it be to wake up in the morning and not know how to feed yourself or your family?  To feel real hunger pangs, not just cravings for a Number Two with fries. 

I read an interesting statistic that stated "to satisfy the world's sanitation and food requirements would cost the U.S. $13 billion-what the people of the United States and the European Union spend on perfume each year."  On fucking PERFUME.  Each YEAR.  How can we accept this?  No, I am not saying that it's the U.S.'s responsibility to feed the starving people of the world.  I'm saying that any decent human being in the world should want to do something about that statistic.  Little things matter if a lot of people do them.  If you have enough money to be shopping in a grocery store, you have enough money to buy an extra can or two of vegetables and donate it to a food shelter.  Donating a few dollars every now and then isn't going to make or break you.  Eat more meatless meals.  Conserve.

I could continue spewing facts, but instead I leave you with this- Remember how lucky you are.   

Eve6: A Love Story

Everybody loves music. I know a few people who say they don't watch television, and a few people who don't care for movies, but EVERYONE listens to music. I was destined to enjoy a wide variety of music genres-if you were to watch my old home movies (which you won't), you would see my sister, my cousin, and myself all shaking our butts off to Billy Ray Cyrus cassettes (yes, cassettes). Fast forward about four years, and you'd find me staying up well past my bedtime, television volume on 1, crossing my fingers and toes that 'N Sync would be requested on The Box before my father saw the flashes of light and threw me back in my room. If you know anything about The Box circa 1998, then you know that I didn't have to wait very long to see that 'N Sync video...but I digress. My first ever CD's were Mariah Carey's "Daydream," Marie Osmond's "Steppin' Stone," and "Living in the 80's," a compilation album. Admittedly, Ms. Carey was the only one that got significant spins on my Compact Disc player, but don't think I don't know every word to the title track off Marie's album or to "99 Red Balloons."

I used to buy 2 or 3 new CD's every week and built up quite an impressive collection. It would be more impressive if the discs didn't look like I'd let my hamster chew on them, but in reality, as long as they play a few good songs with only minor skips, I'd say they're in good shape. The point is, I've loved a wide variety of musical acts throughout my life (NKOTB/BSB/'N Sync/5ive fangirl craze included). But my long love affair with music did not prepare me much for the day that I fell for Eve6.

Eve6 had been around and popular long before I was "introduced" to them. Of course, I'd seen "Inside Out" on MTV and The Box a million times, but I'd been impatiently waiting for Hanson, so I didn't pay them much attention. I was young and in a full fledged fangirl stage. Of course, when "Here's to the Night" hit the radiowaves I'd sing along. But, in typical Cherrie fashion, I didn't really get into Eve6 until shortly before they were about to break up (I had the same problems when bell bottoms became popular again. I wore straight leg jeans through the whole trend, and then started wearing flares as soon as everyone went back to straight legs. Like I said, typical). I remember the day perfectly. I was sitting in the passenger side of my mother's car, enjoying the fact that I was the oldest of my siblings and therefore had full control over the radio (rules are rules!), and stumbled across the song "Think Twice." We were home moments later, and I immediately ran to my computer and researched all things Eve6. I bought all of their albums straight away. I listened non-stop. I made a fan out of my sister because it was the only music I played. I made my cousin fall in love with them all over again (she'd been into their first record). Because of my compulsive need to know everything about the things I'm interested in, I stumbled across the Eve6 Media HQ website (www.eve6mediahq.com), a place for other superfans. People who understood why I could not stop listening to/talking about this band. My kind of people. Since this was before the popularity of MySpace, Facebook, etc., it was basically where I spent all of my time while I was on the internet. I rushsed home from school every day and jumped onto the site to see what conversations I'd missed while I'd been in class, pretending to understand Algebra 2. That was my routine at 16 years old.

A few months after I entered into the Eve6 world, my other CD's were collecting dust, but I was getting restless. I wanted more. It wasn't enough. When I found out that they were touring, I needed no other proof that there was, in fact, a God. I happily purchased tickets for myself, my cousin (semi-fan turned superfan), and my sister (superfan by association). At the end of December, I would finally be able to see my favorite band live. The week before the show, I was so excited that I constantly felt on the verge of vomiting. There was one teensy little problem. Mother Nature decided to throw a blizzard right over New England on the very day that the three of us were supposed to trek to Hartford to see the show. 3 giggly teenagers, only one with a licence (and zero experience driving in the snow), and a set of bald tires meant that we didn't even make it out of town before we had to return to the house. I literally cried. I was 17 years old, curled up in front of a fire, sulking because I'd been SO close to standing mere FEET away from the geniuses that were Max, Jon, and Tony. And the venue had decided not to cancel, so the show wouldn't be postponed. My money, my excitement, my life (okay, I was an angsty teenager!), was down the drain. Eventually, someone suggested that we should see if they were doing any more shows close by, which is something that I should have thought of right away. I was too busy sulking, I guess. But, as luck would have it, they were playing in Poughkeepsie the following weekend. Even closer to us than Hartford. Choir bells rang, children smiled again, and so did I. All was right in the world.

We showed up 6 hours early for the show. I take full responsibility for demanding that we leave so early, but I had already missed out on one show, and I wasn't going to let something like getting lost get in the way of this one. We didn't get lost, but we also didn't have much money for food, gas to heat up the car for 6 hours, or the balls to walk around on the streets of Poughkeepsie. And I sure as hell wasn't going to abandon post-I was going to be FRONT AND CENTER for the show that I'd been waiting for. And for the most part, I was. There was a bit of an issue with moshing and I got pushed back a bit, but I was satisfied with being close enough for Cauterize's drummer to spit beer on me. The show was glorious. I knew every song (I mean, they were practically written FOR me), and when I heard that Max, Jon, and Tony would be outside after the show to take pictures and sign stuff, I screamed. Or, I would have, if I had any of my voice left. I couldn't speak when I met the guys. If you look at any of the pictures of that night, Judy and Sam have elated faces-bright eyes and big smiles. My mouth is clamped shut, my eyes are unfocused, and I'm hunched over from carrying all of the merchandise I bought. Max Collins, the genius that wrote all of those songs, had his arm around my neck. I'm surprised the strength of my pulse didn't push it off. I have never done drugs, but I'm not sure any high could be better than that moment. Well, maybe it could. I hear Ecstacy is a trip.

Like all addicts, I wanted to chase the high. I wanted to see more shows. Unfortunately, I was sidelined by the fact that the band had decided to part ways. It was worse than hearing that your parents are divorcing. In fact, I used to PRAY that my parents would get divorced. But Eve6?! I never saw it coming. Things you love are supposed to stay in your life forever! So I did what any 17 year old girl with a mild case of crazy would do. I bought tickets to any show within a 7 hour radius that wasn't on a school night. If they weren't going to play shows anymore, then I was going to see as many of them as possible before they broke my heart. So we saw them again. And again. And again. It took a great deal of babysitting money, lying to my parents, and charming people to drive us to Potsdam to accomplish all of this. It was well worth it. We got to go backstage, we took trillions more pictures, and I was even creepy enough to bake a ton of cookies, cupcakes, brownies, etc. for the guys and their crew (shoot me now, the most embarrassing thing in the world). On the last show that we could attend, April 30th in West Haven, CT, we left the venue feeling like we'd dropped off a loved one at the airport with no promise of seeing them ever again. It was a sad night, cheered only by chocolate milkshakes from Athena's Diner.

Fast forward a few years, and ALAS! 2/3 of Eve6 back together! 2/3 was good enough for us. We continued to go to any show we possibly could, which was a much harder task now that Judy was a mother of 2 and I was working 80-90 hour weeks. Still, we managed. And Matt was a great temporary fill-in for Jon. I can't even say replacement, because replacing Jon just isn't possible. Still, he was energetic on stage and was friendly after shows. The last time Judy and I saw Matt on stage was at the Mercury Lounge, November 1 2010-it was my birthday, and Eve6 played a double show that night. Nothing will ever top that birthday (unless, of course, they play another show on November 1). When I received the news that Matt would no longer be playing with the band, I was bummed, but only slightly...because then we got the news that JON WAS RETURNING! The planets aligned, the heavens opened, and Eve6 was REUNITED! And it felt...so good (I had to). Then there was the announcement of a new album in the works. The first since 2003. Nine long years of singing the same (albeit amazing) songs over and over again.

When "Lost and Found" was released, I was stoked. When "Victoria" was released yesterday, I practically jumped out of bed so I could run and download it off itunes. When the album is released next month, I'm going to buy as many copies as my budget will allow and give them to my friends. I need to share the music that makes me so happy. That I can identify with when I'm sad. That helps me find my way when I'm lost. That makes my mouth drop when I hear "your heinous heighness broke her hymen, hey man try to quit your cryin'" (what other lyricist could come up with something THAT good?). I've gone through many phases in my love affair with music, but I have never put Eve6 on the backburner. I own more Eve6 shirts than any other. I have so much signed stuff that I don't even know what to do with it anymore. My friends make fun of me for being so obsessed (they're probably just jealous of my sweet Eve6 wristbands). I've created some really great friendships with other HQers. If I'm upset about something, Truck is almost always the first person to send a message my way, trying to cheer me up. Crystal and Chris aren't usually too far behind. I am forever grateful to the band for bringing such cool people into my life.

This is such an exciting time to be an Eve6 fan. I cannot wait to have a new record to spin, new shows to attend, and new friends to make.

P.S. I'm aware that this blog did nothing to negate the assumption that I'm creepy. I'm okay with that.

XO
C