Actually I was supposed to name it February 20, 2009,but because of my daily activities, which kept me busy-busy-busy all day long ( sometimes even my night ),it's only today that I had some glimpses of time for spilling my thoughts on the key-board.

There I was, next to you,on the right front seat of your car,unable to dare breathe, too afraid my tears would stain the covers,and too useless opening my mouth to let my thoughts out of my mind's cage...
I couldn't articulate the fact that I was utterly squashed by our imminent departure - each of us towards our separate ways .
I couldn't verbalize my bitterness and aching because of your 1 week of absence.
I was already missing you, eventhough you were still there.
I was praying inside for the power to say a proper Good-bye to you.
To give you at least one miserable hug,and one lousy kiss on the cheek. I was begging God to give me the courage to touch you.
But God didn't listen to my prayers.He filled me with Fear and Anguish which both sewed my lips and bound my hands.
However,I think He Did hear you...
You held me close to your psyche for five seconds.
Hugged me dearly and reassured me about the wonderful vacation we're both going to have.I went home,and I didn't even have time to weep, because Data arrived earlier...By the time I got down with my luggage,my tears were still having a blast on my face, although I spend quite a lot on long lasting foundation.I had to hide my face inside the folds of my scarf, so that Data wouldn't notice it.I wasn't in the mood for interrogation about "who? what? where?". So I slipped in the back-seat of the car, plugged in my i-pod, made sure everything seemed OK, and pretended to sleep...
Only to close my eyelids and find the darkness in front of me filled with colours and dreams,splashes of light scintillating inside my inner grey matter.
All I could think about was you.
It was you who I found in all those corny lyrics from my songs. It was you who made ma laugh so loud that even my last neighbors would have been startled in the middle of the night.

It is you who I would like to scratch. And bite. And tickle. And make ambrosial coffee to. And let all my clothes torn and ripped by.

I arrived. My friends caught up with my ingress, even before I could sit down and grab a cigarette and chocolate milk to restore my system from the long drive. They lavished me with presents, and took me out for a proper celebration. But the gift they gave me...


One Hundred Years of Solitude.

Late,at night, my phone rang.
Oh! Who could it be in the middle of the night,calling little old me ?!
My Beloved Monster, Of Course!

And then it struck me. Your words, announcing the measliest daily facts you've done from the minute we've said our good-byes...

One Hundred Years of Solitude.
The book you had been reading during your drive.
I picked it up, started browsing, immediately loved it, just because your honey-brown eyes had strolled before among the same maze of words.To be grasping the same letters that perhaps made you smile, or frown, or tremble, or twitter, or incapsulate yourself with recant desire...

One way or another,the way I see it, I HAD to read that book.

I have not finished it, but neither have you.
I have delighted myself in it, and so have you.

I have interlaced myself in this web of dreams and fantasies, too afraid to let go and get down, too enslaved by these myocardial flutterings aroused by your presence.

Good Night, wherever you are,whatever you're doing, beware!
Because tonight Filéshiô is adulterating your dreams!

So at midnight the phone rang, I didn't get it in time and the number was unfamiliar. I called it back.

"Grace, it's your brother, Michelle's water broke. The babies are coming!"

In the minute it took for my sleepy brain to process, a million things went through my head. I wanted to tell him that it was ok, he didn't need to be afraid. That from this moment on his heart no longer belonged to him. That the twins would be a constant source of joy, frustration, sleepless nights, but mostly a happiness he won't be able to explain in words. That they will do things that will make his heart simultaneously sing and weep. There are million more things I want to tell him, but all I could say was:

"Congratulations, poncho, now get her to the hospital. I love you."

Now I'm feeling like a cooped-up cat in a cage, pacing continually, leaping at every sound, staring at the phone and begging it to ring. I'm going to be an aunt, for the very first time. I can't wait.

Dear financial aid check,

You still aren't here, and I'm starting to get very worried. As much as I would like to sell a kidney to cover rent, I’m pretty sure that’s illegal in this state. Please show up soon.

Worried,
Andro




Dear Squirrels,

Get out of my goddamned attic. And if I catch you nesting in my spare comforter, so help me Jeebus, I’m leaving salmonella-tainted peanut butter up there. I had to listen to you scampering all over my room when I was a kid, feel you climbing over me while I laid in bed, listen to the ones that got trapped in the wall behind my desk scratch futilely at the wood until they died. I'd rather not repeat any of those experiences, thanks.

Annoyed,
Andromache




To the open gash in my ceiling that is currently leaking.

GO AWAY. THIS IS THE FIFTH TIME YOU’VE COME BACK. YOU ARE NOT WELCOME. WERE MY ASSHOLE, INCOMPETENT LANDLORD NOT ON VACATION, YOU WOULD NOT BE HERE, BECAUSE I WOULD BITCH AT HIM UNTIL HE ACTUALLY FUCKING DID SOMETHING RIGHT, FOR ONCE.

Angrily,
Andromache01




To my major depressive episodes,

O hai, I see you’re back. Please don’t get me kicked out of school again. Could you maybe, say, go away? And possibly not come back, ever? I know that's asking a lot, but I'd really appreciate it.

Yours and you know it,
Jen

Those of us who are fans of the Columbus Blue Jackets like to say that we're the only team never to have lost a playoff game. Of course that implies we've never played one, because nobody wins Lord Stanley's Cup without a struggle. And in fact that is true. Columbus sports fans are a bit spoiled because of the Ohio State University. Ohio State may not have won a national championship since 2002, but the Buckeyes are always good. The Blue Jackets have a different record. Normally we're out of the playoff hunt by the NHL All Star-Game. We're the Loserjackets as one wag stated when I suggested talking about hockey.

Much of the blame has been laid at the feet of former General Manager Doug MacLean. MacLean was a skilled promoter, and did a good job of getting the Jackets to Columbus and established with the local fans. But he was a bad GM. He was a bit of a control freak, often moving behind his coach's back. In fact, he took over the head coaches job because he couldn't just let it go. He made arbitrary draft picks even when he and the scouting staff agreed on a different player, most notably the 2004 draft of right winger Nikolai Zherdev. Zherdev proved a gifted but mercurial player, when the staff's favorite, defenseman Dion Phaneuf, went on to be named the hockey's top defensemen in 2007. MacLean rushed prospects to the NHL, which may have hurt the chances of top draft picks like Gilbert Brule.

He also promised that success was just around the corner. It never arrived. The Jackets were pretty good for first and second year teams during their first and second year, but they never got better after that. They had perennial All-Star Rick Nash but little else. They could score a few points but played little or no defense. And after six years with the team obviously headed backwards, Ken Hitchcock was hired to coach the Jackets over MacLean's head. The GM himself was fired soon afterwards. He was replaced with former Edmonton Oilers staffer Scott Howson.

The result has been competent, steady leadership. Ken Hitchcock has won a Stanley Cup with Dallas and just got his 500th win as a coach, which in hockey shows he can both win and stick. Howson has made few dramatic moves, but has steadily improved the talent in Columbus without overspending. The season began with a rough patch, but the Jackets have turned into a darned good hockey team, playing a solid checking game.

This year, they appear almost certain to make the playoffs, and not as an 8th seed. The team has some supporting players to compliment Nash and a bunch of talented young players-- Steve Mason, Jakub Voracek and more to compliment him. They're deep, physical and disciplined. And a lot of fun to watch, particularly as they seem to like each other. No snakes in the Blue Jackets Clubhouse. Nationwide Arena is filling back up and the crowds are getting loud and rowdy. TV ratings are the highest they've ever been. People are starting to talk hockey in the supermarkets. And we're finally talking about the playoffs with a straight face.

And you know what, it's a lot of fun. Go Jackets! Carry the Flag!

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