Caterwauling

Not only might I get a change of scenery in the near future, but everything else around me is changing, too.

And it’s about damn time. 🙂

My friend Shan and her husband are going to try to come and visit for my birthday next month. w00t! Well, not ON it, but during the weekend after it. I’m trying not to burst at the seams with joy at the prospect, but let’s face it — I’m thrilled at just the idea of it!

I also found out today that a dear friend is going to be having a BOY. A boy, I say! I love little boys. If ever the day should come (lightning strikes, Dawn goes *poof*), I would prefer to have a boy over a girl (I saw “Thirteen.” I almost got my tubes tied after seeing THAT). And now I get to shop for insanely adorable boy clothes — and blue IS my favorite color. Hurrah!

We won’t mention that I knew three months ago that it would be a boy. Why people pay for sonograms when all they have to do is call me is beyond my guess. 🙂 The daddy is thrilled — he looked at the sonogram and said, “He’s packing!” and made a comment about how certain ethnicities are predisposed to having bigger penises than others. The mom was mortified. I have no comment. 😉

Anyway, it all serves to remind me that no matter the degree of life suckage that occurs sometimes, there are always miracles waiting to happen. And to think how easy it is to just give up — but, look at the rewards if you can manage to keep it together long enough to see the good things that are in store. …

On iTunes: Breaking Benjamin, “Rain”

I’ve done a lot of thinking since today’s audio post. For those who missed it, apparently the new owners of my rental company are jacking up rent prices, striking at will and setting increases rather arbitrarily, it seems.

I didn’t get my notice yet. I assume it’s coming, because my place was assessed on Friday. Hopefully they saw the damage that the cats have done and have decided to charge me LESS rent. LOL.

So, the aspiration is that my rent doesn’t go up astronomically so that I can hang out for another year and try to get my life in order in the meantime.

But, I want to be ready “just in case” things don’t quite work out that way.

To move, or not to move?

TO MOVE
1. Fresh start? Love it. More bad memories within these walls than good memories.

2. Opportunity to move closer to work. SHORTER COMMUTE!!!

3. Gas prices: $2.36/gallon. And I put 400 miles on the car every WEEK. Moving closer to work means it’d be not only quicker, but also CHEAPER.

4. Possibility of getting a unit with a washer/dryer. No more laundromats or fighting for the one washing machine in my basement.

5. I need another bedroom for when the day comes that I will take my mom in. I have been hoping, though, that the day wouldn’t come for a loooonnng time (by then I would hopefully be able to afford to give her her own place. And she’s too young for a retirement home. LOL. I know — evil of me!)

6. Although — it would be nice to have an OFFICE or a DEN.

7. Eventually shopping for lots of pretty new home furnishings. 🙂

8. Change of scenery. Not having to drive past old employment establishments and not being where people better left forgotten can find me.

NOT TO MOVE
1. I live at the ramp to I-395. Totally convenient to everything in the metro D.C. area.

2. Might not be able to stay in Virginia — what would become of my lovely personalized license plates?

3. Pet deposits? Fucking ludicrous. I was looking at some places today that charge $300 per cat as a flat deposit and/or $35/month pet rent. Um, do they have jobs? Fuck that crap.

4. Financial ruin. I’d have to spend a lot of money in the short term (MONEY I DON’T HAVE RIGHT NOW) to save a tiny bit of money in the long run.

5. Dealing with the semantics: movers, security deposits, getting boxes, packing up my shit. Ugh. Pain-FUL.

6. Might have to give up my beloved balcony, depending where I end up going. Oh well — I’m grilling inside, then!!! 🙂

7. I need a new computer, TV and assorted furniture (to replace what years of moving/extended use/cat assaults have done to the current batch). Because I will throw a lot away when I move and do NOT want a bare apartment.

8. Learning a new commute and possibly leaving behind my ride alongside the Potomac River and my twice-daily views of the Washington Monument, Kennedy Center, the Lincoln Memorial and the cherry blossoms (in season).

OK, it’s pretty even right now. And maybe all the fretting is for nothing, but alas, it gives me impetus to excavate the hacienda and to live simply, any way you slice it.

On iTunes: Liz Phair, “Why Can’t I”

While I was enjoying a 90-minute commute home (ugh — Note to self: Never leave before 6:22 p.m.), I was thinking about how I can never find a good neighborhood fair or amusement park in the area. Sure, there’s the Fairfax County Fair and Six Flags, but both are quite a hike away and I’d hate to go it alone. And who wants to get on rinky-dink street-fair Ferris wheels and such?

I got to thinking about my dozens of trips to Kennywood Park, just outside of Pittsburgh. And my inner child put down her scissors and got a craving for a frozen lemonade and a funnel cake with strawberries. 😉

Kennywood was a rite of passage, growing up. Every June, we had a school picnic there. And there were other special events — like Italian Day and EMS Day and whatnot, so you would want to go to see your “peeps” or your family’s colleagues or whomever the day was honoring. I just loved the special days, particularly at the end of the season, when there would be parades and fireworks.

Not that I am a “joiner,” mind you — I hate parades. But that’s when the lines for the rides were gloriously short, assuming the rides you wanted were still open. I am pretty sure they shut down everything along the parade route, but I always headed on down to Lost Kennywood (where rides that were once retired were restored to their former glory), which was out-of-the-way enough that you could escape from the throngs of people for a few moments.

Kennywood Day for school was kind of on par with going to a dance — you had to be asked by the “right” friends and wear the “right” outfits. Oh, god, I won’t forget eighth grade year (1988), when four of us wore these GOD-AWFUL tie-dyed shirts, spandex pants and huge-ass leather hip belts. Holy crap, we looked like a bunch of rock-star BEES (yellow and black — what the HELL were we THINKING?!?!). Seriously, I think that was back when Stryper was popular — SCARY!!!

That was about the time when it was “totally uncool” to go to the park with your family — if you were seen with an adult, like, GAH. I mean, we all started smoking when we were 11 — going to Kennywood sans parental units meant that we could smoke all we wanted to. Because, you know, we had high aspirations like that at 14. But we had some “older” friends (like, a grade level or two higher), which made us “cool.” And we thought everybody wanted to hang with us or be us.

Yeah, we were severely delusional.

And the weird part? I never had a better time there than when I was with my mom. Neither one of us had much interest in riding — we used to joke that they should have had an Eat-All-Day pass instead of a Ride-All-Day pass. The fries down here at Five Guys are reminiscent of the fries from the Potato Patch at the park, only the Potato Patch has better toppings. Seriously, you are from western Pennsylvania if you eat gravy and seasoned salt on your fries. And, if you go back again during the season, you need to get the cheese fries. And the hot dog on a stick. And …

Yes, it’s all about the food — it’s a wonder our fat asses even FIT into the damn rides! 😉

I was thinking about where I would rather be as I was riding the brake around the Beltway tonight — the Beltway being a 60-plus-mile circle around the metro area where you either go 2 mph or you go 85 mph, bumper-to-bumper. No in-betweens. Anyway, having an outing or an adventure right now appeals to me like you would not believe, so that explains the dreaming out loud.

In any event, I don’t love roller coasters. It’s not the speed that gets me but, rather, the combination of velocity and heights. But rides like the Turtle, where you are in an open car and fly around a racecar-like track with only minor bumps, make me squeal with joy. I remember when my buzzy-bee friends and I were on the ride, no one else was on it with us (I believe we scared everyone away), and we got the ride operator to max out the speed. I swear, we rode it for a good 40 minutes at top velocity, and I was never happier. No seatbelts or any kind of safety device — you’re just supposed to hang on to the center bar in an open-top, turtle-shaped car. And I don’t remember even bothering to hold on — I just loved the feel of the wind and my hair dancing around my shoulders.

I had no fear — I knew I would be safe. It’s a feeling I mourn, time and again — now, every move matters, and there are no guarantees. Not that there ever were, but I had more important things to worry about back then (like boys and clothess). Oh wait, not much has changed, when you look at it that way! LOL.

The thing with your Kennywoods of the world is that they make you nostalgic at 4 years old. You stand in reverence of these rides that were constructed the year your grandparents were born. You admire the old-fashioned font on the menu boards. You know that, later in life, you will wish you could find a candy apple as sweet as the one that you are wearing all over your face at the time. The parks seem so big to you when you’re knee-high to Kenny the Kangaroo, who hops around the park in his hot mascot uniform, greeting children and asking if they’re having fun. It made you feel like such a big deal to sit on his knee and tell him about your favorite ride in Kiddieland. And the walk to the car seemed sooooooooo long, to your tired little legs. You would learn, in time, to conserve some energy for the hike to the parking lot. But, when you’re still small enough to be carried (by your equally exhausted mother), it makes perfect sense to throw all your energy into enjoying this wild, wonderful experience that gives you the best day of your life — at the time, anyway. 😉

In any event, those were also the days when my family and I would just hop in the car and find amusement parks and fairs and such. We often went to Kennywood’s sister park Idlewild in Ligonier, Pa.; to Ohio to Geauga Lake (and Sea World and Cedar Point, of course!); to Lake Erie (I know there was something cool up there but can’t remember what) — oh, it was Conneaut Lake Park.

Conneaut closed for a number of years but is back in business. I particularly loved the ride (in its glory days — I don’t know if it’s still operational in its original form) The Scrambler. You see variations of these everywhere — it’s a bunch of cars that are picked up and whirled around in the air. The ride frightens the shit out of me, but at Conneaut, they put it indoors. The lights were off and rock music blared from the speakers as neon lights encircled you. It’s kind of like riding the Space Mountain Coaster in Orlando. In fact, that is probably one coaster ride that I remember fondly — because it’s in the dark. I love the dark — there’s something magical and mysterious about it.

And, not to say that I didn’t scream my little head off on the coasters or any other rides. But, I miss the days of being terrified and thrilled, all at the same time, as I gaped at the majesty of some of these rides. I admit that I often chickened out and that I insisted on going to the parks in uneven-numbered groups of friends so that I could sit out if the fear got the better of me.

My favorite thing to do at Kennywood, as a kid, was to go into this awesome cinema house they used to have (and oh, how I wished it had resurfaced in Lost Kennywood!) — I guess you’d call it IMAX these days. Everything was surrounding you — the movies had you flying over canyons and soaring over oceans and catapulting over waterfalls and even riding roller coasters from the comfort of your seat. I loved the thrill, and nary a hair was out of place when all was said and done. 😉

Anyway, riding the Beltway simply doesn’t compare aesthetically to the sights, sounds and smells of an amusement park come alive for the summer season. But it’s nice to close my eyes and escape while I’m jamming on the brakes and waiting for traffic to break so that I can drive just as fast as my favorite rides used to take me. …

On iTunes: Melissa Manchester, “Don’t Cry Out Loud”

1. What would be your ideal “last meal”?
A bottle cask of Riesling, cheesy potatoes and bloody marys from Jack Stack’s, chicken eggplant pesto and frozen amaretto sours from Alexander’s, pizza from Vinnie’s, chocolate-chip banana pancakes from Pamela’s, a sammich and wings from Fathead’s, sweet potato fries with gorgonzola (in season) from Cap City, and a bacon cheeseburger from Five Guys. Oh, and chocolate/liquor-of-my-choice fondue from the Melting Pot. And about 40 gallons of coffee from Borders, Starbucks and Caribou. Oh, and a chocolate berry basket from Alexandria Pastry Shop.

Yup, all that should kill me. 🙂

2. Do you wear a watch? If so, describe it.
I have 17 silver watches in a drawer with dead batteries. If I want the time, then I glance at my cell phone display.

3. When was the last time you made non-microwave popcorn?
College. I had an air popper. Loved that stupid thing till the plastic cracked. We used to use like two sticks of butter for every five kernels popped — real healthy. LOL.

4. Would you rather shove your arm into a beehive or shove it into a scorpion pit?
Beehive, thanks. There’s at least a chance of it not being a deadly experience.

5. What’s one thing you feel you really must do before you die?
To be absolutely, 100 percent myself — saying and doing whatever I damn well please — without fear of repercussion. I guess that’s what old age is for. 😉

6. Why haven’t you done it yet?
Because every time I realize that I am fabulous, something happens or someone manages to ruin it for me. That, and most people don’t laugh with you when you say “Bite me.”

7. Do you take a multi-vitamin?
Yup. Olay. Supposed to be for healthy skin, but tell that to my pre-teen-esque complexion.

8. Are you going to any weddings this summer?
Not this summer. I was a bridesmaid last summer, though.

9. Do you have any online “wish lists”?
Amazon.com. Also, I’ve gotten hooked on 43 Things, which is where you list what you want to do with your life.

10. What would you rather be doing right this very second?
Starring in a porno.

On iTunes: John Mellencamp, “Pink Houses”

“I’ve stopped waiting for that magical moment when adulthood is conferred and you’ve got it all figured out, because it never comes. Mostly, I’ve gone from being the girl who stayed close to home because it’s safe and easy, to the girl who dropped everything and moved 250 miles away to find herself … and actually did.”
— Tiff, the sage. (Go read the BRILLIANT entry behind that sentiment!)

The aforementioned thought bears repeating. Not just because, well, I hopped on the bandwagon and moved from Pittsburgh to D.C. with Tiff back in 2002, but also because I’ve been looking all over creation to find myself, only to realize that she was here all along.

But first, tunage!

Tiff’s thoughts were in response to a friend asking her how she’s changed during the past decade. And that gave me some pause, too, and I wondered if those of you out there who have known me that long would even recognize me on the street if you saw me today. Similarly, those who have only recently had the pleasure of making my acquaintance — would you have liked the 20-year-old me better than the 30-year-old? Or would you say that I’ve improved with age?

Now, knowing that I love to observe humanity and write character sketches based on people I’ve met, you have some important information about me — you know that I absorb everything I can from people who cross my path. And this is a Good Thing, because my mind and my heart have expanded to see and appreciate beauty in all of its myriad forms.

The bad part, though, is that someone else must’ve handled my luggage at some point, because they slipped in some things that I really would much rather have NOT tossed onto the moving truck — things I so totally could have done without.

For example, there is this woman from my professional past who gave me a real chance to succeed — I mean, took me out of a dead-end situation and insisted that the only thing I was allowed to do would be to shine, from that moment on. Her intentions were good, of course, and I like to think that I made magic happen, when given the opportunity. But, at the risk of biting a hand that used to feed, she went and broke me when I wasn’t looking. Now, let’s face it — I know that people can only annhilate your will to live if you let them. But whether or not it was intentional, she corroded me. She made me second-guess myself at every turn.

Now, it wasn’t just me — anyone who was in the line of fire had their coping mechanisms (whether or not those worked). I coped by being everyone’s comic relief — to me, no mistake was so fatal so as to elicit the daily wrath. I was always strong and always knew when I’d done good, honest, constructive work — work that saw fantastic results.

But the comic-relief schtick? Made things worse. I was told (and say it with me, Tiff) that I was CAVALIER. (Per M-W.com: “Marked by or given to offhand and often disdainful dismissal of important matters.”) That yes, in fact, my work was life-or-death. (Even though, to quote the original “Bridget Jones” movie, I truly WAS the girl who “fannied about with the press releases.”) That I needed to be more serious, which was frustrating, because I was serious as a heart attack about my performance.

So, I learned that I fared better if I didn’t derive any pleasure out of life — I found that, if I worried about absolutely everything, then I would be totally prepared for the firing squad. I second-guessed every word that would come out of her mouth; I anticipated every flaw she could ever find with my work and with ME. I thought that made my life easier.

Not so much. Now, I second-guess everything and everybody. I figure that, if I just go ahead and punish myself proactively, then nothing they say or think will ever destroy me again. I learned to apologize for things I didn’t think were wrong or that bad in the first place. It’s reflexive.

And it’s a hard way to live. And it’s also got to be frustrating to those who expect the world of me to help me to fix what they didn’t break.

I miss my cheerful oblivion. And I do have an overall cheerful disposition, but I feel like Pavlov’s dog — waiting for the electric shock when I’m just happily licking myself in a corner. 😉

I don’t blame this on her … completely. Nor do I blame myself completely, because I had sense enough to run screaming at the first opportunity.

When Tiff decided to move down here, she had asked if I would want to make the journey with her. I resisted at first — I *never* thought I could run away and start over. But, I did it — we both did. It’s fair to say, though, that most of our energy went into survival until maybe January of this year, but neither of us ever thought, “I should have stayed in Pittsburgh.” We’ve just tried to hang in there and be good people and hard workers and all the other roles we’ve chosen to play. And I never really say it often enough, but I am so glad that we’ve had each other throughout the tumult and that we will probably always have this friendship that has lasted — and strengthened — across the miles that we’ve traveled.

And maybe I’m just full of myself (for once — please let me have my moment here. LOL), but I think we’re doing very well. We’re happy. We love our new jobs and are intent on making careers where we are — no more of this “till something better comes along” mentality. Better things have come along. And we’re smart enough to hold on and make the most out of them. She’s found her great love and I hope that mine is soon to follow. Maybe the American Dream isn’t such a myth after all — it might not be just around the corner, but it’s out there, something to which to aspire and eventually to reach.

So, 10 years ago, did I have this sagacity? I believe so — I knew that I would eventually be happy and would eventually find myself. It’s just that, today, I realize that I have achieved exactly that. I have always known who I am and what I wanted, and it’s unfortunate that I allowed people to puncture the spirit that has always defined me. And I was constantly trying to patch up those holes with bandages when they needed to be sewn shut — it’s like the commercial where the girl plugs a leaky boat with a tampon as a temporary fix. It’s taken me a long time, but I’ve pulled the bandages off the wounds and am dumping some peroxide into them. And it stings right now, but it feels good to acknowledge my scars and not hide them anymore.

My cheerful oblivion may never truly come back, but then again, maybe it never really left. But instead of simply having moments wherein I sparkle and shine the way I always used to do, maybe those moments will turn into hours, weeks, days, months, years. And, finally, I am surrounded by the people and places who will help me to make that happen.

So, thanks for believing in me. The “Dawn” I presented to you originally is going to be the “default” setting once again (and not just like the “good China” that people pull out to impress guests).

Look out, world. You haven’t seen enough of me yet. 😉 Tiff’s and my “No Bullshit ’05” is in progress, as are we. And we can’t WAIT to see what we’ll be like (and have) in 2006!

On iTunes: Jane Siberry (f/ k.d. lang), “Calling All Angels”

The lion may sleep tonight, but in my corner of the zoo, the insomniac rides all night long.

Seriously, it’s 2:40 a.m. I’m exhausted. And I’ve tried all my little tricks to help myself to conk out. At this point, it ain’t even worth it to keep trying.

So, it’s been awhile since I’ve done my ho mailbag — perhaps I’ll give that a whirl.

Dear Mom,

Your loving daughter,
Dawn

Dear (Insert Name Here — I forget it already),

Happy trails,
Dawn

Dear Cool Boss,

Your buddy,
Dawn

On iTunes: G. Love and Special Sauce, “Friday Night (Hundred Dollar Bill)”

I’m feeling kind of out of sorts at the moment, but it’s not necessarily terrible. After you’ve been to the end of your world, really, everything else pales in comparison.

I put my tax forms in the mail tonight. Finally. I am hoping that it was the final nail in the coffin otherwise known as 2004. Gah, that was a horrid year. May it never rear its ugly head again.

I realize that I live in chaos. And it’s making me insane. I was never the type to do anything half-assed, but I realize that, of late, I swing between two extremes: anal-retentiveness and oblivion.

And, with a performance review looming at Dream Job, I decided that maybe I should take a moment to review my life. Not that I have anxiety about the professional review — let it be said that I am trying to get all my screwing up out of my system now so that, by the time the next review rolls around, it will look like I’ve improved thousand-fold. 😉

Dear Self,

P.S. And that talking-to-yourself thing you do? You might want to work on that — people are going to think you’re crazy or something. LOL

On iTunes: Lifehouse, “You and Me”

Heh. I keep doin’ ’em whenever Erica gets around to doing hers. 😉

1. What is your typical weekday bedtime?
11:30 p.m.-ish.

2. What is your typical weekday rise and shine time?
Like Erica, I find “rising” and “shining” to be oxymoronic when used in the same sentence. Usually the kittehs get me up at some ungodly hour and I stay mostly awake till the alarm goes off around 6 a.m. Unless I’m fretting about something — then I shoot up around 4 a.m. I don’t “shine” till around noon. 🙂

3. In what position do you usually fall asleep?
Curled in a fetal position on my left side, clutching the pillow.

4. In what position do you usually wake up?
Face down — I don’t move around until Kadi gallops across my back or bellyflops from the dresser, claws first into whatever square inch of skin I manage to have exposed from my microfiber comforter cocoon. Then when I roll over, Maddie will curl up next to me and purr until Kadi rolls up to try to kick her ass.

5. What size bed do you have?
Full.

6. Headboard? Footboard?
I’m so ghetto. I have this great black wrought-iron bedframe that my friend Shan gave to me, but I never got the thing assembled. So I have the headboard leaning against the wall and the other parts, well, under the bed. Fucking genius, I am. 😉

7. Do you have any remedies for insomnia?
Buzzy toys.

8. Do you read in bed?
Nope. I am an insomniac, so I try to keep the bed for sleeping (and oh, how I WISH I were using it for other things right now! I swear I am in heat with the changing of the seasons!).

9. Do you watch TV in bed?
Not anymore — I have one crappy TV, and it’s in the living room.

10. How many hours of sleep did you get last night?
Six, but they were interrupted by Bad Kitty.

On iTunes: Tommy Keene, “Back Again”

Something strange just happened.

I just realized that I am OK.

Seriously, this is a revelation. I’ve been up most of the night just pondering the sheer wondrousness of it all.

I’ve lost weeks worth of sleep, though, wondering if things would turn out all right or if I would survive whatever strife was in my life. I pulled away from everyone I knew and loved, mostly because I knew that if I couldn’t stand myself, how could anyone else? People like you when you’re bright and up and positive (and a hell of a lot of those people only like you when you’re the one who can pick them up). What astounded me during my down period was not just how many people headed for the hills (and dared to return only after the storm had ended), but also how strong the few were who chose to remain present when I would let them get near me.

In any event, I guess I realized sometime yesterday that I am not dead inside — that I am not simply going through the motions of being happy. I’ve often theorized that one must “fake it till ya make it” — that if you keep telling yourself long enough and convincingly enough that things are good, well then, those good things will follow.

I daresay “I told you so.” 😉

Is life perfect? Not so much. But can I handle it in its current incarnation? Abso-fucking-lutely.

The thing is, when something bad happens to you, it seems like a bunch of other bad things follow. And, moreover, it’s like you are the only person who ever experienced those particular misfortunes — hell, it’s like you’re the only person who has EVER had a streak of luck that bad. And while you’re happy that your friends are having successes, there’s another part of you that just wants them to shut the hell up and leave you alone until your own muse is ready to kick your ass into your next opportunity to turn that luck around.

I often wonder about the choices I’ve made and the repercussions they’ve had — like, would I have done it all over again, if given the chance?

And for all the heartache, tears, suffering, torture, agony, etc., I look at my life now and, believe it or not, I will say yes. Certain roads I was traveling were dead ends, and I’m sad to say that I knew that when I was packing my suitcases for the journey. And traveling back up a dead end is the worst feeling in the world — your mistakes are magnified when you’re forced to look at them on your way out. And then when you return to the crossroads, you see where you came from originally and you see the other road that didn’t work out. And you tend to go in all directions at once, hoping that something, anything will feel right. You get a lot of false leads, too — and a lot of false hope — and it’s always the road that you didn’t see at first that ends up being the path of least resistance. It’s like it appears just when you are ready to give up.

I guess what I’m trying to say-but-not-say is that I’ve still got a lot of scars that need to heal, but for the fact that they are now scars and not bleeding, gaping wounds is a triumph in and of itself. It means that the healing has been in progress. And, sure, I still get squirrelly and freaked out as I wonder if this is all a mirage and that the proverbial rug will be yanked out from under me. But my faith in myself and in others is starting to solidify again.

I was reading on a friend’s blog about people being on the rebound. And my comment to that was, aren’t all of us on the rebound from something? I mean, the next person I choose to love isn’t going to be competing with any recent exes, but they are going to have to be strong enough to know that I’ve got the occasional demon to battle. We all do — there’s nothing special about that. And I have had to realize that I am not the only person who has had to masquerade as a functional human being when I was feeling like anything but.

One of my favorite phrases is “moving forward.” I used it a lot in former jobs when I was supervising people or when I would make a small goof here and there — as in, “moving forward, this is how we will prevent that or change the outcome.” I never worried back then — I knew that each day was a new day that brought a clean slate and a fresh chance to start all over again, only with the added bonus of hindsight. I don’t hold grudges (much), and I guess I can safely say that neither does the universe.

And while I don’t know how or where I will end up, I do know that the wind has been gently pushing me down the road I’ve been on for the past few months. For the past couple of years, I almost felt as though I were swimming against the current. But now, this path really does lack resistance — for once in my life, I feel like the universe has positioned me exactly where I need to be. And it’s up to me to run with it and position myself for even bigger and better things. Because — and this is what kept me up most of the night — I had one of my crazy visions, and I saw myself being purely, blissfully happy. And whether it’s a premonition or wishful thinking, well, it’s up to me to paint the picture I want to see. The neat thing about having a brand-new, blank canvas is that you can torch the old pictures and use any old paint colors you want to create the image that you want to go after.

Bring out the brushes and the drop cloth and forget the canvas — I’m ready to paint the whole City of Alexandria with my dreams. I never WAS one to do anything on the small scale!

On iTunes: Evanescence, “Tourniquet”