Dear Emily,
I can't do it. I know you want to forgive and forget, but sadly my heart isn't capable of this. I wish it was. But I leave in less than a month, and over the last two I can't help but sit here wondering every time you send me a text if it's going to last.

Yes, you were my best friend. And yes, I miss you. But you hurt me. Badly. Telling me to "Stay the fuck out of your life" was pretty much all I needed to close that Emily part of my heart up and pretend you don't exist. I don't go to Denny's or Ihop and I try to act like you don't exist.

The night the apartment burned down all I wanted was to call you to tell me It would be ok, but I deleted your number. For good reason. We had a great thing, and yea, I was critical of you. But only because I knew you could do so much more with your life.

Where I thought I was smart, you were a genius. Where I was insecure, you were outstanding. We were ying and yang and yet the same. And it worked. Laughter, tears, Rum and of course the dancy game. I know you still read and this is why I put this here.

I will never speak German and not think of you. I will never eat hashbrowns and not think of you. I will never contemplate tuna, chocolate and garlic and not wonder wtf is wrong with you. And when it comes to best friends and laughter, I hope that when I am 90 something and John is asking me to bump uglies I think of you and laugh.

because I'll be honest, I miss you. I wish it was worth returning the phone calls and being friends again. But we both know regardless of the love, the friendship and laughter it will never be the same. And yeah, maybe I throw hissy fits, and maybe I over react sometimes... but it doesn't change what you said. and it doesn't change how I feel or how you hurt me.

I want the best for you, and sadly I'm certain I am not that. I miss you, I love you, and I hope you get everything out of life you wish for, because you deserve it.


The Novelty of being Fearless

When I was ten I would haul my sled on top of this old hut thing my dad made years ago, that held our fire wood. I'd climb up the fence, dragging this bright green sled up to the top and then I'd angle it just right so I'd miss the scattered logs, but land in the snow. It was a good 5 foot drop, not much a ride since the sled was longer than the actual roof. But I did it, because I was fearless.

When I was 12 I looked at a four foot ramp that was made by some neighborhood kids, got back a few driveways and skated off it. I remember the landing. Hard, rough. Sprained an ankle and my wrist, not to mention I was picking grass out of that skinned knee for days.

I used to climb any tree, as long I could reach the branch. I'd run across busy streets, sneak into the Discovery Zone pretending I was with a party. We'd scam the McDonalds people into giving us a gazillion kiddie cones and then go play on the play place, not in, but on top of; Where Kids weren't allowed.

We'd sled down the slides, jump off swings, make ramps out of wood we had stolen from construction sites and go off them on our roller blades, bikes and even a scooter if we could. The house across the street from my parent's has the steepest driveway in the neighborhood. And the house next to it has a perfectly leveled curb.

We'd zoom down the drive way, Cut the corner way to fast and launch ourselves into the air. If you landed or pulled a trick you were the god of the neighborhood. If you fell, or got hurt you had no option but to get back up, shake it off, and try again.

Dislocated my knee Jumping off that curb.

When we were kids there was no fear. We were indestructible, and any injury could be fixed with a band-aid. Bruises would fade, cuts and scrapes would heal. We lived for the moment, somehow knowing that once we reached a certain age it'd no longer be fun.

And it's like that. Gone are the days of sledding off anything with snow on it, the impromptu snowball fights, the back yard wrestling clubs where we'd beat the shit out of each other. Gone are the games of tag, the races around the block and the adventures on our bikes to discover super awesome Tree forts.

I miss it. I miss being a kid. I miss being fearless, living for the moment and not giving a shit about what could happen, just wanting to prove that I can do it. What point in our lives do we all realize that Yeah, maybe we can do it, but it's just best not to try?

How do you go back to being blissfully unaware of consequences after you grow up?


Merry Fucking Christmas

As some of you may know, I have family who has never bothered to contact me in 23 years despite knowing where I am. This is all because, *GASP*, my brother is black.

Well I was invited to christmas Eve dinner, and only agreed to go to spend time with my dad. I tried to get my brother an invite, and it didn't happen. So my dad and I arranged a Dinner tomorrow night for the Boyds.

I'm not going to Rockford to see my family. I don't want to go, I don't want to meet even more people who never gave a shit about us. I don't want to sit there talking to them when I know the moment I move I wont hear from them again. I can't and I wont.

I know my brother is Black, I'm aware we're only related by our mother. But does that make him any less of a family member? No. Is it fair that they neglected to invite him? No.
So I'm standing up for us, it's either both or neither. I'm not going to be divided by race yet again, and I'm not going to let you people live out your damn racist views. He's my brother, and my Father's son. Either fucking except it or do what you did for the last 23 years, forget I exist.


You know you haven't lived here in a year when...

1.) you used to be able to navigate the house and its obsticles with no problem, even if you were so drunk you couldn't remember to wear pants. Now you've moved back and you're fumbling with a light switch, stone sober, cursing your parents for moving it on you.

2.) Forgetting to take that extra step out of the doorway and tripping over the Gatorade that you know is there, and still trip over.

3.) Walking into the wall instead of where you think the bathroom door is.

4.) Stepping on the cat. The gold cat.

5.) You throw your cigarette butts wherever, and hope for the best.

6.) Your body is not used to smoking outside.

On the bright side I do still know my father's footfalls and where he's going as he walks. First he feeds the cats, this is accompanied by the ting ting of their dishes. Then he goes and turns off the Christmas lights before making sure the basement door is closed, Garage door locked and then he'll close the blinds before heading upstairs to bed.

Five minutes after this I am safe to roam about the house like a ninja. Well used to be ninja. Now I'm more like a one legged hobo in a fucking obstacle course.


And Life continues as normal.

You would think being married would make us a bit more mature and less strange. Turns out, this is not the case.

dumdum: How was the film?
Jen: Shitty as hell
Jen: Like HD is total crap
Jen: I mean the special effects sucked balls
dumdum: yeah I figured they would
dumdum: fuck HD
dumdum: and
dumdum: you had to watch it on such a small substandard tv too
dumdum: and the couch is so far away
Jen: I know :(
Jen: My life is so hard.
dumdum: yeah
Jen: This computer is actually made of coconuts. :/

As much as I miss him, I'm going to miss these moronic conversations as well.

dumdum: this one is made of rasins
Jen: I'd say don't eat it, but you hate raisins.
dumdum: yeah only good for making computers with really
Jen: They're Grapes that just didn't make the cut :(
Jen: Or the wine, rather.
Jen: Or the jelly
Jen: In fact.. I don't think you're ready for this Jelly.
Jen: Sorry 2 say, BB.
Jen: But Keep your hands off the jelly.
Jen: Stick to the preserves, they have chunks of fruit.
Jen: No raisins though.
dumdum: Which ninja injected you with liquid crack while you were away?



I know, I know. I promised I'd talk about the wedding and having my new family here and leading the British around. And I know I was going to talk about life after the fire, and everything thats been going on.. But its.. Its just not what I want to talk about. so HA.

Tonight I watched Julie and Julia. For those of you not familar with the book/movie it's about a woman who wanted to be a writer, gave up half way through and started working in a call center after 9/11. She wanted something more out of life and started blogging. 365 days for all the recipes in Julia Child's cook book, Mastering the Art of French Cooking.

Well she did it, but as I'm watching I'm thinking "I have a brand new cook book. I love writing."
John and I joked when we opened the cook book that we'd cook a recipe each day, trying it out. And that it'd take me over 2 years to finish. And it would, there are about 700 recipes in it. But I figure, why not?

Why not combine the two things I love more than tulle, tiaras and Facebook? Cooking and writing. Add in some picture taking, maybe a video here and there.. and I could actually have the cooking blog I've thought about making for over a year now.

I'll have nothing but free time when I get to England, and plenty of people I can feed if I invite them over. I don't see the problem, and since the wedding, I'm actually super excited about something.

So stay tuned, because soon I'm going to have another blog, and hopefully I'll update it far more than I've been updating this one.

And because you've been so patient I'll throw in a picture of the Groom and I dancing to our first dance.
You're very Welcome.


Aftermath: Thoughts

"When are you moving to England?" Is the question on everyone's mind, including my own. I know, it's a big move. I know it's stressful.. and I know right now its a pain in the ass.

We started doing the visa today but it requested a "Departure date" and a "return date" which is just silly because I won't leave until I know when they will let me, and I plan on not returning. Other than to visit. So right now it's all a pain in the ass.

A lot of people have been asking how married life has been, and to be honest it feels the same as it did when John came to visit. We hang out, watch TV, internet fun, and just spend time together. Which is what we do. Nothing feels differently to me, maybe him because now he's married.. I don't know. To me it feels the same.

Granted I'm fully aware I'm married. But I'm also fully aware that come Sunday night I have to say goodbye yet again, like I always do. And I'm going to have to be strong and hold back my tears and pretend that I'm a seasoned pro at this. You'd think after three years I'd be ok with all of this, but it sucks that I know I'm not going back with him.

It seriously sucks.

Edit: Visa people got back to us Via email and said they can't tell us what to put. Wtf. That makes no sense. This is the biggest pain in the ass ever. :/ would have been easier if I was English. Or he was American.

Fuck us for being the most unconventional couple ever. :(


I'm a Wifey

Thought I would do a quick update while I wait for John to finish showering. Yes, it's all true. I'm married now. No longer a Boyd.. well Legally I am still but thats only because changing your name is a pain in the ass and it might make the visa take even longer to get.

I had a lovely wedding. Nothing went wrong, and if it did I didn't notice and didn't actually give a shit. So yay me!

I'll update with pictures when I get some more, and tell you all about my crazy insane week. Unless I drink myself into a coma and forget it all- which is more than likely.