I might keep it short and safe, for a while.

Recently, I got a rather drastic haircut. Five inches at least? Anyhow, I like the style and I might keep it this short for a while.

Just as I do with every other insignificant event in my life, I'm reading into this much deeper than necessary. But at least this time, I'm consciously making the decision instead of letting my thoughts aimlessly wander into a tangled knot of psychological mishaps.

[Preface: It has come to my attention that I use too many adjectives in my writing, which ends up withering and watering down the thrust I strive for. I actually have this problem in common with most of Adelphi's honors college. Yes, we like using big words and yes, we like shoving them in every available crevice within a sentence. This was the reason one of my professors assigned an essay to be written in the form of a business memo. Coincidentally, I got an A+ on the essay, and it was one of my geekiest, yet proudest moments. Lesson learned? With great straighforwardness, comes great success.]

My haircut is short and concise, yet not harsh to look at. It is possible to be like this verbally as well. You can be direct, but not insulting. Most times being blunt is harder for me, but easier for another to understand. So... And so.

I'll bite the bullet. I'll slice my word count in half (WAIT! Maybe just thirds) and say what I mean. But the notion doesn't stop here. I have to follow through.

[This is the start of something good, don't you agree? I haven't felt like this in so may moons, you know what I mean? And we can build through this destruction as we are standing on our feet. So since you want to be with me you have to follow through on every single word you say. And I all I really want is you, you to stick around, I'll see you everyday, but you have to follow through. -Gavin DeGraw, "Follow Through" ]

And, I'll do what I say.

I like this style. I might keep it short for a while.

***

Wrapped

I'll let time wash away the relevance
of emotion that could crumble me.
I'll keep the eclectic collection of feelings sealed away
in a steel safe.
I've reserved the key,
and the choice to use it.
But I walk from the past
toward the future
and find myself
now.

Chelsea: 1

After a wonderful day of sun, water, and boating, I'm sleepy and so content. I water-skied! After a few face plants, the rope pulled me up to a delicate balance. Showing off was not a choice for a person of my rudimentary skill level. But in my own mind at least, I was awesome (for at least ten seconds straight). Tubing was the best though. Trying to jump between both of the tubes while three other people desperately clung to the few handles, was the goal I aspired to. However, I usually designated myself as the instrumental "foundational member" of the dog pile, i.e. limbs spread and pasted onto every crevice/handle of that inner tube. While Sarah casually sat up on her knees, hair blowing in the breeze, I saw at least 4 synopsises of my life flash before my eyes. Her grace was that of a seasoned dolphin; mine resembled a beached whale. There was one crowning, victorious, diminutive moment. I was the last of four riders still clinging to the tube after a succession of jarring waves and leaping bodies. Chelsea: 1. Everyone else: ... Well the important thing is: Chelsea: 1.

But I'm happy for another, less obvious reason. Throughout the weekend, I did it. I stuck to actions that supported what I say I want. Last night, I could've been like I had in the past. But when I woke up this morning I was happy that I hadn't succumbed to my cozy habits. Today, I stayed safely within boundaries I'd set for myself. I didn't even bend the fence, or glance on the other side. I have my own grass and it's perfectly green, thank you very much.

I feel myself getting stronger and more confident everyday. I can scream and laugh and smile without wondering if I will be liked. I'm glad I've found this, or rather, that it found me.

Perhaps

Like a breeze blowing my hair and tickling my face, I remember traces of us. Little vestiges he's left with me drift through my mind and brush against my nerves a bit. Not enough to make me itch or tear up, but enough to feel. I'm slammed with the memory of an embrace that wasn't itself profound, but still meant so much. How he looked at me, as if I was everything he wanted and more. How he sighed with such satisfaction, after enthusiastically snatching my hand in his. How he wanted so badly for everything to be perfect, "us" included. He wanted me: forever.

But forever had an end.

***

Perhaps, I'll find love again one day.

My most recent TellAllGram

This is the latest edition to my TellAllGram wrting spree. While working for www.TellAllGram.com as the "Teen Editor," I write letters to be used as templates for people who want to "Tell All" in one form or another. I have a lot of fun with these by finding ways to tell people off, while keeping the delivery light-hearted and able to receive.

***

Dear Manager of Dunkin’ Donuts,

You are conveniently located adjacent to the Metro stop and at the heart of the thriving metropolis of Wheaton, MD. Every morning, I pass Dunkin’ Donuts en route to the train station, and have stopped in several times to satiate my debilitating caffeine craving. When obtaining a small, iced, “latte lite” at any other location, my hankering is successfully combated. However, your shop never quite hits the mark of my simplistic order. In one situation, I was detained for at least 15 minutes after ordering a small coffee. Maybe your employees were merely trying to heighten my level of anticipation, and therefore amount of enjoyment upon the actual consumption of my mocha-flavored beverage. If this was their intended strategy, then hats off! I was about to faint from a dizzy spell of excitement (or maybe depravity of caffeine) after the lengthy wait. But when the climactic moment finally arrived, they handed me two foreign, frothy, large drinks. Sadly, I accepted the offer despite its wrongness. Alas! Their plan had gone awry in the final stages. Mounted excitement? Check. Heightened enjoyment? Not so much.

And so this sparks the necessity for a note of encouragement, a signal for the need of beneficial change, a TellAllGram. I honestly believe your shop has all of the necessary ingredients to be the best Dunkin’ Donuts of all time: friendly employees, an excellent amount of business, and recipes for delicious yet affordable drinks. I am only suggesting that you combine these materials so that they can work cohesively and to your advantage. Just as your most skillful employee swirls, juggles, steams, and stirs to create a delectable experience, management must learn to do the same with the entire restaurant. The line should move quicker. The drinks should have better quality. The orders should be unfailingly accurate. In summary, The Wheaton location is in need of some sweetener.

Thank you,
Caffeine-aholic

P.S. If business continues to operate like it has been, you will be receiving another letter from me. That one will complain that your slogan is false advertising, and will adamantly demand that it should be changed to, “America moseys along in Dunkin.’”

Need to organize the next week and a half in my head

Things to do today:
~BUY THANK YOU CARDS for people at my internship/ask Molly for a general recommendation letter.
~Go tanning.
~Work out (if possible).
~Write a (or a few) TellAllGrams.
~Stretch after class.

Things to do of Friday:
~Pedicure (and eyebrows?) with mom
~Maaaybe get my hair cut and (even less probability) colored.
~Work out.
~Tanning.
~Work @ 5
~Spend the night at mom's

Saturday:
~Breakfast with mom and Pam
~Work out.
~Tanning.
~Work @ 5

Sunday:
~Boating with Sarah!!!

Things to do before leaving for school:

~Clean and wash my car.
~Find all of the cords and things that I need to hook up my TV.
~Bring my portable DVD player, and the cord it needs to hook up to my TV.
~Bring DVDs!! (Mas importante).
~Download as much music as I can stuff onto my laptop so that I can upload it onto my Iphone when I get it on the 17th.
~Figure out how to take apart my metal shelf thing.
~Go to a grocery store and steal cardboard boxes.

Things I (or my mom :) ) should buy:
~Uniform type of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.
~New "body spray" from bath and body works.
~New bare minerals make-up. YES it IS necessary.
~An organizer/ hanger thingy for my eclectic collection of shoes
~More hangers.
~A bucket type thing for my toiletries.
~Cleaning supplies. I admit this is a vague and broad term but I have not a clue as to what I should bring in regards to such a foreign household duty such as cleaning.

The Virgin's Monologue

The word is not french nor does it contain

four letters alone, just three make its name.

Yet all of my symptoms resulting from it

resemble reactions to fuck, damn, or shit.

Not at the action, my anger surmounts

but at the people who use it for pride to surround.

I'm on an island alone in a sea

of swimmers and divers all laughing at me.

Taking the plunge for them was so small.

It was fun. It was free. No reason to stall.
I'm begging for patience, though not on my knees.
(I'll never emit desperate pleas.)

It's barbed wire boundary is one I can't cross.

Not now at least, but all hope is not lost.

I've been asking in earnst, this thing for a while,

has waiting for love gone too far out of style?

Heavy eyelids

The lightening storm blinks away the darkness. I can't remember when it rained tonight, but the iron table is soaking wet. The wine drenches my tongue and I savor the outlawed flavor, reveling in my under aged rebellion. Crickets must be proud of their chorus tonight. They out sing my music. And I slip into a comfortable state of mind.

No one sees me now. I'm unreachable. Every line of communication is controllable, and I've decided to put them to sleep. They shut their eyes at the appropriate time of night. I say that time is now.

I'm left in a wonderful pool of bliss. A lovely solitude. I'm inundated in the absence of words, and conversation, and interpretation, and miscommunication. All that's left is me. And what I say is right. My thoughts are not confined to responsibility or direction. This is satisfaction, this is freedom; the ability to venture without restriction. This is me.

***

Funny how the direct and simplistic labeling of an individual can be so relieving. I'm usually the one to assume the best intentions of an individual, while contrastingly guaranteeing the dismal nature of the larger group. Basically, when dealing one on one, I an a hopeless optimist. I am willing to give multiple chances, justify another's behavior based on my own misunderstanding, attribute shortcoming to the situation instead of the individual. But there comes a point when simplicity outweighs all other explanations.

I'm beginning to "call it ass I see it." If they're an ass, then so be it. Does it matter how many childhood memories, or unfair opportunities, or personality disorders they have? No. Not in the long run. Everyone has mountains to move. Whoop de friggin do. Get over it and prove yourself.

Chelsea. Get over it and prove yourself.

Walking on broken glass. Literally.

I have several weird things wrong with my body and it's getting really annoying. 1. There is a tiny speck of glass smashed beneath the skin of my foot and it's ridiculously impossible to find it with tweezers but splendidly easy to feel while walking. (It was lodged there roughly two days ago when a glass shattered in my hand, while working at the pub. Who knew polishing silverware would be so dangerous?) 2. I need to exercise. I know I'm not lazy, I'm just too busy working. Yet, I still feel lazy because I could get up at 6 and go running, but to hell with that. 3. My skin. 4. My hair is frizzy and in need of a *good* cut. 5. I need to stop biting my nails.

***

When you break up with someone (at least when I do) you go through half-depression, half-giddy layers of recovery. After crying, lots of ice cream, and self-criticism you reach the "wait a second" phase. You pause in the midst of consuming comfort food and think, wait a second, being single might just be a good thing. Then commences the flurry of flirtatious behavior that momentarily boosts your confidence and reestablishes the fact that you now have new choices, and the freedom to choose from them.

I think I'm past both of those extremes. I'm just about back to being normal. Back to realizing what I truly want, and acting more like the self I'm familiar with.

I'm sick of thinking about relationships. They are such a waste of time. Well, okay that's not true. But what IS true is that so much time is wasted on stupid crap within the relationship. I'm done. For a while at least. Yes. This is a good thought. A break from males. Loving it more every second.

My feet are cold.

I can't wait for Fall.
Chilly breezes.
Boots.
Wool stockings.
Sweater dresses.
Apples.
Rosy cheeks.
Chapstick.
School.
School.
Hot coffee.
Red, orange, and yellow leaves.
New York.

Texting

I hate texting. I might just go ahead and strike against it. Since it's a relatively new form of communication, the rules of etiquette are still being etched. The result is a forced gulp of impersonality and lackadaisical responses. Hours can go by without a response, and conversations can easily take days to fully develop if they progress at all. And then do you know the disappointment that accompanies single word texts?!

Ok fine. I'll admit I'm partially guilty. Which is why I ought to ban it from my life.
But eh. I don't feel like it.

And thus, the unavoidable, paradoxical dilemma.

Busy, very fun weekend

Thursday Night:
"The Ugly Truth" with Katie

Friday:
Drive up to NJ
See Amy's show

Saturday:
Drive to Adelphi
10am-2pm-Give tours
2:30- bridal shower

Sunday:
Bible class
Drive home

GTG.

Simple. Enough?

I'm a simple enough person. I like coffee during early mornings. I like summer thunderstorms. I try to do well in school.

I want to be in love. Not anything more or less. I don't have to open up about things to everyone. I don't have to account for strangers' feelings. I will put myself first, for my own protection. And then, because of love, I'll put myself second. But not until then.

Everyday there are mountains to move.

Moods to dismiss and tempers to soothe.

Declaring thought through pent up words

while salvaging poise, through the noise that's heard.

Everyday there are rivers to swim.

To cling to the thing called self worth, on a whim

is a trait among a natural few

dispersed all around and in and through.

Everyday there are lives to save.

But I can't protect all from knaves.

First my own, is fought most for.

Then, love as my sheild, I can fight for more.

I can fight for more, I will fight for yours.

Nothing

I have absolutely nothing to say. I thought I did, but in saying something I'd only be giving it more weight than it deserves.

F that.