Lost & Found

Growing up, the sole bathroom in my grandparent's house reminded me of only one thing. Shockingly pink tub, sink and toilet, red carpet complimented with red and pink towels. The only room to take a **** in, decked out in the colors of love. Did you guess V-day? It's almost here. I can tell you aren't ready for it either. After all, we live in a procrastination nation of last minute lovemakers. Valentine's Day is almost as reflective a holiday for me as New Year's or Arbor Day. After all, who doesn't think about all the times they've been uprooted or cut down on A-day. Just kidding, tree huggers. And just like New Year's, V-day sometimes ends with resolutions. Never to date men that have the same name as your ex. Never to consider guys who still live at home or are permanently unemployed. Never to ponder anyone whose mother HATES you and plots for your demise. Never to dye your hair in an attempt to look like Megan Fox. Never get drunk and sing The Joker with frat boys on karaoke night. Never let him enter you in a wet t-shirt contest, knowing you'll win. Never spend hundreds of dollars on an XBox if you want him to spend more time with you. Never think it will work out if his best friend thinks he's in love with you. You get the idea.

My mind starts to hitchhike back in time to the year I bought dozens of boxes of kids Valentine's cards. Brilliant idea right? Who wouldn't want to recieve thousands of hand-written Ren and Stimpy, Strawberry Shortcake, Minnie Mouse, Snoopy, and pretty much every other licensed character known to man, Valentine cards being sold at Target that year. Each with a very detailed message, written in love-red gel pen, dripping with words of unabashed adoration and uncensored affection. Can I tell you what I wrote? Nope, not here. Not without the over 18 disclaimer. Yeah...sorry. Use your imagination. But I can tell you this. My thoughtful idea was well recieved. Very well recieved. By someone who I thought I could never beat when it came to creative, mind-blowing, romantic endeavors. Someone who sent 96 long-stemmed red roses on the 96th day of our budding relationship. Someone who wrote stunning poetry with yours truly as the sole inspiration. Someone who took me to see REM one night and Madame Butterfly the next. Someone who probably gets mistaken more than he cares to for that vampire in the Twilight movies. You know who this is...it's our blog villian, Time Will Tell. The one that made a chick like me, who was determined not to fall in love - dive in and take the risk.

So obviously, it ended in love lost. Withered, like the 96 rose petals did a week after my face lit up from recieving them. But know that all was not lost. And yes, it was worth it. Six years not completely wasted. The joy and the pain of loving and losing brought both heartache and hope, but it also assured me that I was not going to let losing keep me from winning again. Believe me, it was not easy to reconcile the concept that someone who spent so much money, time, and effort pursuing me, gave it all up like it meant nothing without so much as a goodbye.

So, one day, after my finger had gotten used to not wearing an obnoxiously expensive diamond ring, I actually met the true love of my life. We had identical white Nissan Xterra's (except his had a six inch lift, was supercharged and ridiculously modified). His license plate read XCETRA and mine read MYSTKL. Yep. I knew without a doubt I had met my soul mate. The one best friend I could always count on. The one who makes me laugh til my sides ache. The strong one I lean on when I feel like falling over. The one I couldn't spend a night without or go a night without. The one who is my Valentine 365 days a year. The love notes I write to him say only one thing. I am yours and you are mine. So while V-day for some of you might seem bittersweet this year, when you find the right one, it will be the sweetest reminder ever that true love exists and it is never lost. Just keep looking til you find it. Cheers~

xc

Happy Hour at The Milk Bar

Let’s talk lactation. Just unbutton the topic… and put it all out there. I’ve got to tell you…it is an issue that evokes a squirt or two of passion out of people. I had no freaking idea the kind of rallying both sides of the booby issue were capable of. There are people for it and people against it. And both sides fiercely latch onto their positions, digging in their high heels to debate it. Honestly, until I reached the tender age of twenty-seven, the idea of using my boobs for anything other than attracting adult members of the opposite sex, never really occurred to me. I assumed nipples had no other value than simply being a reliable temperature gauge. I distinctly remember having dinner with a group of college friends at a TGI Friday’s back when everyone I knew, myself included, was young, single and flirtatious. One of the attractive guys casually pointed out an exhausted looking lady nearby, who was obviously wearing a starving five year old child underneath a small fabric camping tent. Junior was screaming aloud his intentions of “MILKEEEEEEEEEE” from under the wrap, his legs kicking wildly as she apparently fumbled for the trap door on her ginormous bra. The rest of us painfully avoided looking anywhere near that table, the same way you try not to stare at people who subconsciously pick their noses in public. I remember the guy saying something like, “Seeing that….makes me lose my appetite… for all kinds of things.” The whole table laughed in response. I paid no mind to the lady or to the comment, dismissing it all as something that didn’t really apply to me. If I had a form to fill out…under breastfeeding I would’ve written in N/A. Not applicable. Or maybe, no thanks. Or…perhaps, not yet. So instead, my mind effortlessly wandered into the realm of thinking about the kind of pins I would wear if I worked at a place like that. Maybe one that would even say N/A. I smiled at the thought. Yeah. That was me. I didn’t notice and I really didn’t care. If people did it – great. I didn’t have a problem looking away. If not, no big deal. Bottles worked. I was neutral.

Fast forward. I meet a hot sexy guy and steal his heart…and then his last name. Pretty soon it’s inevitable that everyone seems to be begging the question. And they start asking in a shrill, intruding voice, “When you two going to have a baby?” Everyone asks. Then I start asking myself. And of course, hot sexy guy who is madly in love with me, is game with whatever. So, we throw caution to the wind…and pretty soon a plus sign appears on the pee stick. Sick thing is I still have it. How’s that for being sentimental? Now I have no idea what I’m in for… so I search my memory for friends and relatives who have born offspring that I have had contact with in the last few years. And a repressed memory faintly appears. Picture an overjoyed, but tired looking mom holding a newborn with an open mouth. Then I see the nightmare nipples…ones that are dark and ominous and frighteningly large. It’s like seeing someone with a glass eye or something weird like that. And I am suddenly freaked out that my perky and proportionate breasts will morph into something hideous and grotesque. But then I think about how much I already am in love with this little person who I’ve never met. How I would do anything for this little heaven-sent gift, even if it means losing one of my greatest assets.

So my boobs got bigger. And then even bigger than I could have possibly hoped for. I bought a huge bra with trap doors and nursing pads to stick inside. FYI: those little circle pads can double for maxi’s if you line a few up and are seriously in a pinch after getting a surprise visit from Aunt Flo. Especially…when you haven’t seen her in over a year. But luckily for me, there was no freak-show nipple changing. The belly button thing didn’t happen either. Whew! What a relief. Then… the much anticipated baby pushed its way out into the world to be adored by all. And I decided to give breastfeeding a try. And I will admit that the idea of bottle washing and mixing of formula sounded like too much added work. How’s laziness for a motivating factor? See I had already increased the amount of laundry I was doing- tenfold. So I was in the market for efficiency.

In the hospital, a lactation specialist came by for a visit and a consultation. I tell myself half listening, it can’t be that hard. Plus, I have a very high opinion of my abilities when it comes to overachieving at things. Seriously… boob in mouth, right? Not exactly. Turns out there are special ways to hold the baby. Ways to hold the booby. Ways to get the baby to open its mouth. Ways to tickle the cheek. Ways to massage the milk out. And then there are remedies for getting what I called, “hotboob”, a painful reminder that when it fills up…get that milk out…even when you’re so tired, you forget who you are. They would fill up like water balloons, and as soon as my ears intercepted a cry, I would be leaking like a spigot. It really didn’t matter what kind of cry. It could be a TV commercial, a dog whimper, pretty much any kind of high-pitched cry and I was ready to serve drinks. I wanted the menu to sound impressive, but I only served one beverage, what I called the “milktini”. A drink that was created on the foundation of me eating everything organic and nothing overly spicy. The ultimate, gassy, BF killjoy turned out to be the evil vegetable known in grocery circles as broccoli. And my patron left me the biggest tips imaginable. I knew I had done my job well by the amount of Pampers we were flying thru.

If you think about it, thousands of trees have been utilized in the construction of books on this very subject. Knowledge is power, right? Maybe. In my experience…I got impatient and irritated at the rigid concepts being hurled at me. So I did what I do when I convince myself that stressing out is not the answer. I tossed expert opinions aside along with everything I felt was not working, and just decided to figure it out. Just me…and of course, the most adorable little milksucker I have ever seen. And every three hours we figured it out together. All it took was something I had lots to give. Patience and time. It’s the byproduct of leaving the fast-paced world of impatient strangers to slow down and appreciate what matters most in life. And in that start to parenting, I got to know every dimple, every expression, and every sound that accompanied what had once been “Not Applicable”. I had become the deliriously in love bartender and waitress that looked forward every day for a year and two months… to happy hour at the milk bar.

Cheers,
xcetrachick

Knockout

Thinking about something I left behind. Something I had no room to bring with me when it was clearly time to move on. If you follow my ramblings, you remember I grew up moving alot, so parting with "stuff" has never been that hard. Used to it. I detach readily. Without looking back. Without tears. Going, going...gone. I'm ok, you? Get over it. LOL. So, a few months back we went thru my memory box together. You discovered my affinity for nag champa and I openly shared the personal ad my ex (Time Will Tell) had written and published to find himself a new me. So picture this. I know some of you amazing friends of mine...actually can. You have been beneath the beautiful and magical gazebo in my old backyard. The one covered with climbing roses and accented with luminous patio mood-lighting. On a hot, summer night, we would sit in white Adirondack chairs listening to music, talking, laughing, drinking, wondering what came next in life. Oh yeah...keep in mind it's the Phoenix kind of hot- close to a hundred degrees. Most of the time, we were sitting around in cutoff shorts and tank tops smelling like chlorine and suntan lotion. Sometimes we would cook stuff on the pricey barbecue grill I fought like hell for in the divorce. The one I had no idea how to turn on or light. Cause I just wanted to want something that I didn't really want. Heartache's powerful anesthetic sometimes produces strange and long lasting side effects. It's the casualty of being young and idealistic, then abuptly feeling like you have absolutely no control over the direction your life has suddenly taken. When everything appears to be a disillusioned reaction to the person who betrayed you. The one you pledged forever to. And you know with every pain seared breath that you meant it, even though that person changed their mind...and forgot to tell you. Damage control. You assess how great it all seemed together and how fragmented it is now that its been ripped apart. You have a grill you can't figure out, and the remnants of property that he either intentionally didn't want, or couldn't fit in the truck the day he moved out in secret. Your mind races feverishly as you try to think about what things looked like when they were whole. You make a list of things missing now, but not to turn into the annoying Allstate guy, in case a burglar got past your lovable Rottweiler. You just try to think, what of mine is now gone. And the answer is everything. Sure he left your clothes. And the big screen TV. And all the pots and pans. And the dog. But he still took it all. You are left empty. Left with a mind full of questions that have no answers. Then the answers you finally squeeze out of him months later make no sense. Hints of regret only add to the anger and confusion and chaos your scattered mind gets to deal with. So you do what any mentally sound individual does. You head over to Play it Again Sports. You walk thru the store until you find exactly what you know will save you from needing another type of lawyer. One retainer at a time, you tell yourself. You engage the cute guy working that night to hook you up with everything you'll need. He gets you the gloves. You pull out your debit card, more than ready to purchase the safest hope for release that night. A free standing punching bag. Delirious, you fill the bottom of it with water, from the hose you also had to go out and buy. Then you put on those gloves and beat the **** (your word choice - any four letter one will do) out of what you can't understand. Feeling out of breath, emotionally drained, and thirsty for something that burns your throat going down, you collapse into the Adirondack chair, staring at the wedding photo you taped to the bag. And you feel ridiculously good. So good, in fact, you decide to do it again the next night. And the night after that. And over and over. Every time your foot or fist makes contact, a little less pressure builds up inside and the stinging hurt gets released. And slowly over time, with the help of a few intensely loyal friends and family, you begin to see the fight as being almost over. The bell rings. Knockout. You trust again, you love again, and you see people for who they are, instead of who you want them to be. And one day, you decide to take the gloves off for good and size up the bag that got you thru so many restless nights. Knowing it stays. While you go. FYI: Next post will be a funny one.

Listening to:
Evanescence -Everybody's Fool
Lifehouse -Breathing

xc

All Kinds of Everything

Gots lots to share and little time to do it in. So hang on and try to keep up. Alright here we go. My mind is racing tonight. Just saw the James Cameron movie Avatar in 3D, sat in the second row, and am hopefully going to crash soon from a serious sugar high. Everything still looks like I've got those funky glasses on. The background still a blur highlighting vivid images. Gingerbread milkshake, oreo cookies and a huge soda from the movie theater. Yep. Crack for the blonde chick, who has no intention of slowing it down tonight with an Ambien. Eagerly anticipating some very cool dreams after seeing that movie. No... not those kind of dreams. Not like Gerard Butler, Christian Bale, or Joaquin Phoenix was in it. The guy that was in this movie did a good job, I think he was in Terminator also, but he had a very unique accent. Seemed like he was covering up an Australian sounding one, that periodically seeped thru. So... where were we? Oh yeah dreams. I mean the kind of dreams that make you feel like you are a guest of honor at Tim Burton's Disneyland. Alice in Wonderland can't get here soon enough. Here's hoping we won't be disappointed. Flying on the back of a winged-creature, sprinkling Pixie Dust everywhere, shimmering like a vampire, and speaking in a dialect you don't recognize - gets us back to dreaming and imagining like we were kids again. No worries for those of you who haven't seen the movie yet. Do you really think I would ruin your happy ending? Never. But I will tell you that the female human-hybrids in this movie could benefit from breast augmentation. And seeing the Jar-Jar Binks version of Sigourney Weaver with Bo Derek braids was hysterical. To be honest, I expected more attractive people to be in this movie. I also was expecting someone to drive a Prius and that did not occur either. Bottom line it had an offbeat storyline, but it was imagination eyecandy for sure. Very entertaining.

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How were my holidays you ask? Better that you don't. I'm waiting til things settle down before I divulge the drama that surrounds gatherings with intensely passionate, beautiful, and incredibly humorous individuals, those I get to call family. Prank to pull on your brother in law- you know the big guy that looks like a bouncer, the kind that could crush someone with his pinky finger. The kid of guy that picks fights for fun and gets you kicked out of places. Here's what you do. A few days before Thanksgiving, have random annoying people continually call his cell phone pretending they have turkey problems and insist they are calling the Butterball Hotline. I know. Brilliant. There aren't enough people in this world willing to go to such lengths for a roll on the floor, choke on your own spit kind of laughing. I almost lost consciousness trying Uncle Mike's (saturated after baking) Bouborn cake and tried a cajun Turducken for the first time (duck shoved into a chicken, which was then crammed into a turkey). To recover from all the fun I can't tell you about, I downloaded a ton of great music from itunes. Let me put it out there. Listening to the acoustic version of Stop and Stare by OneRepublic. What a perfect song for turning the corner into the New Year. Examine where you're at to get depressed and motivated, or excited and content with what this year will bring. Feeling restless and impatient yet? Me too. Got my New Year's candle and am ready to set both ends ablaze. Ready to fit as much into every second I get. Just tell yourself it's all for you, even when it isn't. Cheers ~ your beloved xc

Under Construction

The zone. You know the one where if you go a number over the posted number, you get fined twice as much. Not that I've ever done it. Just know that its not worth speeding thru a construction zone. Even if you just drank a 24 ounce mocha latte and the thought of peeing in an empty coffee cup seems unfathomable and impossible, especially since you are wearing pantyhose and can see a fast food restaurant up ahead. And you know for a fact they have clean restrooms. There it is up ahead...past the string of orange and white soldiers standing guard preventing cars from using any other lane than the one designated. During rush hour. And nobody is really working on the road, you see. They just set it all up to slow you down. While its raining. And you have to pee. Really, really bad. So today, while soaking in the bathtub, sipping a Rock Star energy drink, reading a boring chick lit book, my mind wandered and I came up with this: Construction builds future progress at the expense of current progress. And I believe the same holds true for relationships. If you are not willing to wait and slow down sometimes, you might just see some flashing lights in your rear view mirror. So let's don some sexy hard hats and think of some catcalls. j/k. I've already come up with a few on my own. "Is that a tape measure in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" Anyway...I am always amused by people who when single, desperately talk *nonstop* about wanting to be in a relationship, then finally when the opportunity arises, all they do is complain about being in a relationship. What did you think, meshing a chick and a guy together would be easy? One person pees standing up and in the shower, the other sitting down... and never in coffee cups. One person meticulously caps the toothpaste and scours the countertops, the other smears toothpaste all over the sink and lets the cap drop and roll over by the toilet. One person sorts, washes, folds and puts away all the clothes and the other person can successfully install a 6"lift on a $45,000 vehicle, but is unable to figure out how to use the front loading washer or dryer. One person can spend hours intensely focused playing Modern Warfare 2, while the other person doesn't have the attention span for a Gap commercial. Relationships are always under construction. Always growing, changing, improving, building, tearing down and redoing. Men and women stand around every day in reflective orange vests holding up signs that say "stop", "slow", and "go". There are warnings... and there are surprises. You have to watch for other traffic. And roadblocks. And ex-girlfriends. And in-laws. Sometimes You'll both ride on newly paved asphalt and it seems like easy street. Cruise control~birth control? Other times, the lack of direction and mud all over your windows and its inevitable you're freaking lost... and he won't ask for directions. Hot, sexy guy bought me a Garmin GPS for Christmas, but the only thing that I think about when I look at it is NOT how to get it to work. I think, "how can I change the color of the little car on the screen to match the color of my actual car?" You might encounter detours and dead ends. It will be both frustrating and exhilarating.

I think healthy relationships require tools, but not necessarily belts. I like going beltless. Some tools I like to stash in my bra (just kidding - there is no room in there, but there is a funny video on youtube - search for chicks toolbelt bra) Some of the helpful tools I like to use are patience. And a sense of humor: the ability to laugh at things that might initially piss me off, but I know the next day will seem super funny. The hammer of relationship longevity: forgiveness. Letting go of the mistakes of yesterday and today - going forward with a clean slate. Never going to bed angry. Humility. Generosity. Kindness. If you are already in a marital ride, then by all means break in the back seat...daily in fact. Enjoy and appreciate the drive, even if it takes you a long time to seemingly get anywhere. And if you happen to drive a cartoon car (a VW bug, mini-Cooper, or PT Cruiser) then please decorate your vehicle with mouse ears and tail, a British flag, a sticker that says "Actual Size" or a funny license plate that says "BUG ME". When I get behind you stuck in traffic, it saddens me to know I am not as wild and crazy as you. Plus... you make me laugh knowing you spent hard earned money on a minicar that can never hold more than two carseats, grown men, or more than fifteen clowns. If you happen to own a smartcar... be forewarned that I will be in hysterics the day I see you pass me.


So, friends whether you are cruising along, under construction, hoping for construction, stuck in a zone, or deconstructing, appreciate the ride. Deconstructing of love is going to be a future blog post for those of you whose hearts have been stolen. Or broken. And you weren't thinking LoJack. I know...bad joke. Oh yeah...and don't try to apply makeup while driving either. So remember to think long-term: Construction builds future progress at the expense of current progress.


Songs that fit our theme today from ALL music genres: Drive by REM, Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol, there's a lovely acoustic version done by Natasha Beddington (spelled that wrong for sure!) Airbag for you Radioheaders, The Wheel by the Grateful Dead, Back Seat (Getting Down) by Brian McKnight, 440 Horses by Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash, Life is a Highway by Rascal Flatts, or for the newly heartbroken -Deconstruction by Indigo Girls.

Best Friending

Been putting you off. Keeping you in a contained time period of my fascinating life. One that I really don't miss. Except... for one thing. Something I had to let go of to hold on to something else. Sorry if I skip unnecessary letters or words. Twitter does that to people. Do I really need more than 140 characters to say what I have to say? Maybe. Twitterers are #hashtaggers... not to be confused with #hashbrowners or #cornedbeefhashers. And I'm in the mood for spooning peanut butter out of the jar and squeezing Hershey syrup down my throat. So hang on to your...well, whatever it is you like to hold onto, while blog reading and time wasting, while we get thru some stuff to think about listening to Paramore's The One Exception.

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Holding on and letting go. What are the things people hold onto? Well... you might be thinking balloon strings, pictures, memories, heros if you liked the movie Flashdance, hope, lots of great stuff. Or weird stuff like guilt, regret, fear, four year old positive pregnancy tests, or baby teeth. Or maybe you're a smarta** and only "hold on" to toilet seats while you're "letting go". Either way... holding on and letting go can be painful as all getup~ whatever getup is or means. Sorry friends, I haven't had an Ambien in two nights so this could get confusing. Just figure it out :) Tonight I shall sleep like a bay-bay (said in a fake British accent).

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Loyalty.~ what a treasured commodity to me. I appreciate it more than even melted Nutella on a bananna drizzled with carmel sauce. Must be in the state of premenstual apathy tonight to be this food focused. Ok...lets stay on track. Do you hold on tight to best friendships that matter? Not just people you kind of know or hang out with. I'm talking BEST FRIENDS. Yes...I'm asking *you*. Deep-rooted I -got-your-back people where you know your friendship investment won't be frivolously withdrawn? Yes. I've been hurt by best friends. And I've hurt a few myself. But I hate the "you go your way", "I'll go mine" mentality, especially after they know lots about how you tick and could tag you in Facebook photos that you really don't want friends or family seeing. Why? Because few people want to deal with complicated... or stick it out. The ickyness of working things out, making mistakes, and forgiving each other. Byproducts of besting a friend. And you all must know that to be my best friend...loads of forgiveness is required. Pride messes me up more than you think. Upside of being in a best friendship is that it can make for such a fabulous time and overall deep-rooted sense of security. Some "cut and go people" would rather forget and move on to the next semi-interesting person, because they don't appreciate what they had in you or your suitcase (see the post called Baggage Claim).

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So while we can't all be friends with Jennifer Aniston, Courtney Cox, whatshisname and David Schwimmer OR Jerry, George, Elaine and Kramer, we can develop our friendships into ones that matter when it counts. I've found that time and trials will eventually reveal to you who your true friends are! So to my beloved best friends... you know exactly who you are... I appreciate you.

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Cheers. Now go tell your best friend you love 'em and are never gonna give 'em up (per Rick Astley). Great guy best friend movie: I Love You Man. Great chick best friend movie: can't think of one. Oh yeah... and tell me a little about YOUR best friend. I wanna know. :)

Love is a Candy Bar

It's discouraging to me how many people I've spoken to lately that have given up on love. Called it quits. So..I start thinking about all the elements that would line the path of such a discouraging vision. Love's a winding road for sure, but even the most treacherous of journeys have always seemed more worthwhile to me than permanently standing still. Can't imagine not moving, not risking, not wanting to love and be loved back. I operate best under the reckless, wild abandon of making myself vulnerable - a bullseye to love's arrow. The people I know that take that road of desolation, seem to have little more to offer than bitter warnings, misguided directions, and stale complaints on a journey they chose to stop taking. A perspective tainted by a self-limited viewpoint. Armchair quarterbacks and backseat drivers - throwing and steering their lives out of the way of love's goal or destination. Intentionally avoiding the hope of love and its adjoining sidecar of appreciation, I wonder what perpetuates anything of meaning, anything of value or measurable worth in that economy? And the answer I thought of, can best be described as "restless self-gratification". It's life stuck in a hamster wheel. I'm telling you my thoughts on this because I have stepped onto the wheel a time or two..not for long, but I vividly remember after having my heart crushed, the restlessness that threw me into a whirlwind of attaining and achieving. Proving myself...to myself. Striving to be good enough and reclaim my validation. Sometimes chicks do this in very stupid ways. Yeah...not going to attempt to give more details on this here and now. Suffice to say our college wet t-shirt pool party karaoke drinking days are over. So...I looked back on my young life and like a hot-tempered coach watching the playback of the game, critiqued every move, every mistake, with harsh resolve to change and be constantly improving going forward. By the grace of God, a kind of peace emerged, even after never having close to all the answers, never quite figuring it all out and a humbling realization that I didn't have to prove anything at all. But even before that, the determination to proceed was always there. The restlessness also spurned a sense of urgency that I didn't have time to waste, especially avoiding what I knew I wanted most. I figured out that for myself, the fear of jumping into the deep end of love, was a losing game of shifting manipulations. Where pain and pleasure just melt together into a frenzy of exceeding expectations and keeping busy so you don't have time to think or admit how lonely you are. For that brief season in my life, when my boss thought I was an adrenaline junkie, I got promotion after promotion. I thrived off of the accomplishments I carried around like a crackpipe. Graduated with highest of honors from college, got my first acceptance letter into law school one month after sending out my application, made amazing friendships, and got to experience the ghost of seeing what life is like without having what you want the most. I understand the value of appreciating what you have -after given a second chance. This life experience (one of picking myself up , dusting myself off, and preparing to give love another shot) shaped the hard core premise that the only thing in life I could NEVER give up on... was love. Because regret is a bigger burden to me than heartache. Chasing after love, is the heart of every song that moves my soul. As are the songs that express the darkest sides of losing love. Because I know that without that immeasurable depth of loss, numbing heartache, and risk that accompany giving your heart away, the flip side of that coin is just as vast and immensely powerful. It's the landscape of intertwining every part of who you are with another person. It's knowing that the only perfect love comes from above. That forgiveness is love's tag along. Not just a warm, mushy feeling or a flurry of sexual desire, but an all-encompassing love fueled by a decision to hold on tight no matter what, to stick it out, and sometimes stick out your tongue at anything that threatens the core of it, knowing it will be a tough road sometimes. I value the understanding that nothing beats - being in, falling in, and most importantly, staying in... love. Nothing in the restless realm of unsustainable pleasures, mindless time wasting, money making or spending, achieving and self-deceiving will ever compare, or remotely fulfill or satisfy. Love is simply the ultimate Snickers bar... it really satisfies. For those of you with differing opinions, or experience, I would love to hear your insight. For those of you who want to add songs to my list...I LOVE that idea! So send me the artist and title go ahead ...just do it. A list of some of my life theme songs - upon hearing these can transport me effortlessly to the various places I've been on love's wonderfully amazing but sometimes hard road. These great songs on my life's soundtrack, currently located on the ipod affectionately known and loved as "pinkpod". Cheers, xc

Norah Jones...Don't Know Why
Patty Griffin...Rain
Paramore...The Only Exception
Michelle Branch...Til I Get Over You
Ford Turrell...Ghost of Goodbye
The Fray...Look After You
Indigo Girls...Deconstruction
John Mayer...Not Myself
Rascal Flatts... Movin On
REM....Nightswimming
Howie Day...Collide
Dave Matthews... Baby
Avril Lavigne...I'm With You
Auqualung...Brighter Than Sunshine
Adele...Make You Feel My Love
Lifehouse...Breathing
Shane Alexander...Feels Like the End
Train - Get to Me
Hoobastank - The Reason
Coldplay - Trouble