(An army of one) + x = Much More!

So, Blogger recently updated, which is pretty awesome. It's been so much more user friendly and now has a mobile app (Thank you!). To all of you that read my daily churning on your phone, I hope it is now formatting much better. I know it was a bitch to read there for a while, as blogger transitioned into this new platform. If it is still not working PLEASE let me know.

They have added this new stats page and I was amazed to see some of the statistics. Statistics are pretty awesome because they tend to tell the truth in simple laments terms. And that I like.You can't really hide the numbers (or hide behind the numbers). They just exist in true form. Anyhow, I'll stop trying to be poetic and tell you the cold hard facts!

Confessions of a College Graduate has had over 2000 page views during it's 18 month existence (and this isn't tracking the million times a day I look to see if anyone has posted a comment).

Most of my page views come from the United States (duh). But did you know that I have had page views from Russia, Germany and Alaska?

And most of you readers out there in cyberspace universe are Windows junkies. As am I, but I'd love to make the transition to Mac with my next personal computer. The one I'm rambling away on right now is my loaner from work. I take it home so I can devote my life to tourism and check my work email when I'm at home and not supposed to be working. Shhh, don't tell the boss!

Anyhow, those are the facts. Do with them what you will, but me, I'm celebrating the fact of a successful blog. I am an army of one and I only have 10 followers, but I make a pretty loud scream.

See you all in the New Year! Thanks for reading!

I forgot about new tune tuesday, so how about new tune Thursday??

Happy Holidays!

Thanks for reading. See you in 2012!

indecisive

I thought I would buy a house, now I think I will buy a trailer and save the rest of my money for my children. Just kidding, I’m gonna blow it all on drugs and scandalous activities. Who wants to join me? 

This is actually an awesome short article.

Today, I share a link from a Newspaper blog. I miss this newspaper dearly. It is about the only thing that kept me sane while I was working in the bureaucracy of state government. JK. I just loved walking around downtown looking for the indy newspaper box to reach inside and pull out the free publication to tuck under my arm and look cool. Ahhh, I miss that life.

http://www.indyweek.com/FWIW/archives/2011/12/16/indy-interns-why-your-next-job-should-be-fast-food

THE LONELIEST MAN // A NARRATIVE

Deep in the dark damp woods in the middle of nowhere there once lived a man. He lived in a home that didn’t have a driveway or a mail box to mark the turn. It wasn’t off a dirt road or a gravel road or a paved road. There wasn't a road at all.

Directions weren't easy, which was okay because he never had the need to tell anyone directions in the first place. In fact, he had nowhere to tell directions to, not a house or a home, and no one to tell either. No one knew who he was. No one knew he was born. No one knew he lived. And no one even knew when he died.

And he did die, eventually, with no directions, or road, or mailbox, or driveway, or house.  He just died and the smell of the damp forest took over his body and camouflaged him with the land. Not even archeologists would know he existed because when nature was done with him, there was nothing left. Not even his teeth, because, well, he had none to begin with.

So the man with no teeth. The man with no directions, or road, or mailbox or driveway, or house. The man that no one knew who he was and no one knew he was born and no one knew he died. This man actually was not a man. This man was nothing. This man never existed.

And so neither did his story. This story. These word.

The End -but then again this never existed either.

Three, Three, Three

Wait a minute. It might not be the curse of three little words, but instead the curse of threes. Yes. This makes much more sense. It is the curse of threes that I am stricken by. My apologies for the mistake. And my apologies for the curse of threes.

My apologies. I am cursed by three little words.

Please let me apologize. Each night I come here to write. And each night I write the same thing. I have been cursed and now all my blog posts are the same. I apologize for this laspe in creative material. I apologize for not being the writer I wish I was. 

Again, my apologies. I am cursed by three little words. 

your absence by my side (pockets and heart)

i can't wait until you and i become one
everything we own will soon become united
and as we share in the little fruits of our labor
we will rejoice with all we have to savor

i have never before imagined
until i have found you
little blonde pitter patters of children among me
i dream of small baby feet running across the gray tile
you catching him right before he falls into a crying pile

the sand between his little toes
and in between our hands
as we all join forces and speak to the land

these are dreams i have each and every night
as I lay awake reaching for your side
when these moments return in deja vu
i hope you realize how it is all so true

and one day we'll return to all that we knew
and our son will be grown by the ocean
as we continue to drink from its salty potion

New tune tuesday

i can never figure out what this song is about,

but i love it none the less. 

Life on a sandbar

I am currently trying to write in the midst of noise hyperbole. Let me try and paint a clear picture of what is happening over here at the parents house.

Imagine the sound of a vacuum on hardwood floors, a radio on top notch, a washing machine spinning off balance, a dryer full of jeans churning, and a yapping Welsh Terrier.

And though it is eleven a.m. right now and I should not be sleeping, and I am not. Just imagine all of this at seven in the morning. And then imagine this every morning. And now you have a clear picture of life with the folks. 

I have got to get out of here! And the funny part is, they don't understand any of that. Mom thinks I think living here is absolute hell. And sometimes it is, but most of the time it's really nice to be able to save some money and eat some yummy food and be around them, especially during the holidays. But really, she can't expect me to stay forever and she can't be mad because I want  to leave. Right?

I mean, am I being completely rude and ungrateful by saying: "Mom and Dad thanks for letting me stay, it's been really nice, but it's time for me to move now. I'm 25 and I need to have my own space?" Is that rude, am I a horrible daughter?

I can't believe I even have to think about that. I want to occupy my thoughts with finding a house or building a sweet little beach box that looks something like this (see above, right). Only surrounded by sand. I mean, couldn't you imagine watching the sunset from that porch or even while making dinner in the kitchen. This open floorplan would be beautiful and perfect (see above, left). And there's a loft: which means extra  room for overnight visitors! I mean really, this is all I need. Monk and LB and me would fit perfect here. 

Now I only need to find a large enough lot, in the perfect location towards the end of Old Oregon Inlet Road with marsh and woods as my backyard. Oh and room for chickens. Oh and all of this under 80Gs. real estate gods, please help grant me my only wish. Oh and that I want to move in before April 1st! 

Is it too much for a girl to ask for? 

Are you really my friend? The fb portrait project

http://www.facebookportraitproject.com/2011/11/shout-out-from-etsy.html

http://www.facebook.com/are.you.really.my.friend?sk=info

http://www.tanjaalexiahollander.com/

In the midst of economic destruction artists [and people] still explore reality,
no matter the cost. 

These people are my hero's, my motivators, and my idols. 

My dreams are as wide as their dreams.

My desires run as deep as their desires. 

My fortune dependent on their fortune.

And my future, 

as volatile.