Can you spare me some change?

Yesterday I got harassed by a homeless man while waiting for the bus because I didn't give him any change. He asked me where I was going and when I refused to tell him, he placed his face a foot away from my own and stared me down. I still didn't give him any change.

Even if I did carry cash on myself, which I never do, HE would be the last person I would feel inclined to give money to. I don't know if that makes me a bad person or not, but he really could've been more polite about the whole situation too.

I always seem to attract the wierdos.

It's not that I don't feel bad for homeless people, but what about being homeless entitles someone to beg strangers for money? What gives homeless people the right to disregard manners and ask people for handouts? I mean, would you ask your family for money to pay off your debt, let alone a stranger?

If I were homeless, I'd at least perform for money--something.

All I know is that if I were homeless, I wouldn't be a booze-guzzling, disease-ridden, money-begging stereotype. And, I wouldn't get up in 19 year olds' faces and give them the "stink eye" (and stink breath.)

Love, Scandal, and ...Milk? Surely I have more interesting things to say.

To quote South Park: "Guys, I learned somthing today..."

That nuggest of wisdom? It's not smart to leave milk in a mini-fridge over the weekend. Additionally, it's especially not smart to leave milk in a mini-fridge over the weekend and then proceed to drink said milk.

Thank God I didn't swallow. (No, that's not what she said.)

Today I read in the newspaper that a woman was shot in her twentieth floor hotel room last night at the Copley Marriott. I was surprised that I had not found out anything sooner, having been at the Prudential shops located at the base of the same building at 5:30 last night. This story put me in a morid mood...or maybe it was just the milk.

On the bright side, the sun was shining and it's a beautiful time to be in love.

Yes, I am in love, just in case my first post didn't make it obvious, I figured I'd state it for the record. I've found a complete, comfortable, niche where I am completely free to be everything I am in private, but in the presence of another person. I never plan on leaving this, for the rest of my life. I've never felt safer placing myself in the hands of someone else--nor have I ever felt more genuinely happy. I wake up every morning like it's my birthday and I have presents waiting for me on the kitchen table. It's a beautiful feeling, inspired by a beautiful man.

No wonder the majority of animals reproduce in the springtime: the sun just fuels the feelings of love.

If I Had A Piggy-Bank, He Too Would Be Poor

Instead of getting a little gift for Easter, my parents gave me $50 and told me to spend it on something nice for myself--something that wasn't food. I told my mom that I didn't want to take her money, but she insisted, claiming that she would've ended up spending it on me anyways. Reluctantly I accepted the cash, telling her that I wouldn't be frivolous with it and spend it on something that I didn't need. Oddly enough, she insisted that the money be used to buy a gift for myself. What did I get for myself? A triple grande mocha from Starbucks. What did I spend the money on? Two books for my friends' birthdays. Happy Easter to me.

To be honest, I hate the concept of money. Mainly because I don't understand why people base the majority of their emotions off of their finances, but also because I find said practice as exhausting--because the concept of money, wealth, poverty, economics--all of them--are contrived concepts. This being said, however, I do tend to fall into the same emotional slumps that I so often criticize, from time to time. I'm not a girl who is obsessed with expensive things by any means: I do the majority of my shopping at Target and I love the concept of Clearance. Don't get me wrong, there are definetly times where I do buy overpriced objects, but I have not made a habit of it. Since coming to school though, I have come to feel alienated from many of my Coach-adorned classmates, complete with Ray-bans, Le Sport Sacs, and Burberry scarves.

Today I went to the Prudential Center shops with my next-door neighbor Erica, who dragged me to the Coach store to help her pick out a birthday present for her roommate. Having no concept of money whatsoever, she easily and willingly dropped $40 on a keychain and decided to purchase the second part of the birthday present (from Marc Jacobs, of course) at a later date. As she debated over which keychain she should buy, I snuck peeks at price tags, realizing that currently I could hardly afford anything in the store and even if I COULD, I would never spend such an outrageous amount of money on something so commonplace. This realization immediately had two effects on my pysche: First, it made me feel extremely smart that I, unlike so many other girls I know, would never be overcharged for a purse, keychain, etc. Secondly, it made me feel extremely sad, alienated, and entirely second-class. I realized that no matter how hard I worked--no matter how smart I was--I would never be able to comfortably afford such overly-priced extravagances, or at least feel comfortable doing so. In a way it was gratifying to know that I don't need material posessions to define me, but at the same time I wished that I had the options and opportunities of my friends.
After picking up the keychain, we hopped back on the T to school where Erica began telling me about the vacations to Germany and Israel she had just booked for the summer. She also told me that her father was going to hook up her (asshole) boyfriend with an "amazing" internship at Charles Schwabb, complaining that she, herself, would probably be spending her summer at the beach in Orange County because she doesn't feel like getting a job. In my head I looked ahead to my own summer:
Sometimes I want to hit her.

My White Knight

It's 2am on a Sunday night and instead of pulling down my sleep mask and pulling up my covers, I find myself thinking. No matter how hard I try to rest my busy thoughts, they continue to run sporadically through the past, the present, and the ideal future. Usually, this would be the time where I curl up in a ball on the verge of tears--tired, confused, and frustrated--but lately I don't mind letting my thoughts roam free. Lately, these thoughts are concerned with my better half, Jeff.

Isn't it funny how when you're completely enamored with someone you can relate anything, I mean ANYTHING, to that person? For example, at the bottom of this text box are examples of "Labels for this post." Though the three examples listed are completely random, irrelevant, and odd things to blog about, within an instant I can relate each individual suggested label with a separate and reminiscent story, centered around my boyfriend. The suggested labels read as follows: "scooters, vacation, fall." While the first two labels will probably evoke obvious memories amongst mutual friends and even co-workers, the last label remains a joke between us (and will probably for awhile). Aside from thoughts of constantly relating Jeff to things around me, however, I have also found myself devoting a lot of time to trying to piece together our past through memories. There is no doubt that our relationship has been a long road, but it's hard to distinguish how and where everything came together. I suppose we just took the baby-steps over time and for that sake the universe just unfolded as it was meant to. There were ups, there were definitely downs, there was heartbreak, there was unrivaled happiness, there were subplots, there were antiheroes--everything you see in the movies--everything you experience in life.There are a lot of things that people don't know about the origins of my relationship with Jeff. I don't really care that hardly anyone knows anything about how we came to be together--I just never understood why everyone else seemed to be so concerned with it. To be honest, I don't mind sharing it (if you really do want to know, that is), if you don't care to hear though, I suggest you stop reading, here. I cannot promise that I can fill you in on every detail, many have gotten lost along the wayside as memories tend to do, but I can promise you, that the story is better than any romantic movie--because this love story is actually true.Unfortunately, this story begins as one of the most painful events, thus far, in my life, descended over me in the form of lies, betrayal, and a break-up. After nearly nine months of dating, I became informed that my boyfriend wanted to "go on a break" and "see what else was out there." To soften the proposal of a break, he also told me he: "ha[d] no idea if he liked me as a girlfriend or just a friend," hinting that he seemed to be leaning towards the latter. After hours of tears and self-doubt, Jeff was the first person (outside of my family) to offer me any kind of encouragement and support. Ironically, he was one of the last people I would've expected to hear from. Not only had we been merely casual acquaintances up until that point, but we had not spoken in months. Despite all this though, fate somehow brought us together. This is how it all began.

On January 28, 2008, an hour after breaking up with the past, I began realizing the potential of the future. I realized how relationships should be, how I should have been treated, and most importantly, how I was already being treated. That same night, at my lowest point, Jeff met me at Friendlys and made me smile--legitimately smile--for the first time in days. Over ice cream he comforted me in the way I needed to be comforted, by talking about anything and everything. When he hugged me before we departed on our respective ways I could feel all of the emotions built up inside of me collapse into his arms, relieving me of the pain I was feeling--liberating my fear. I have never been so moved by a hug in my entire life.

After this, we continued to rendezvous, first at Bosquet where we went skiing and shared some of the most amazing conversations about nothing (Seinfeld would be proud), then again at a Vampire Weekend Concert at Williams College. After this concert, we once again found ourselves in Friendlys, where Jeff confessed his feelings for me. Unfortunately, as fate would have it, that was also the same night that my sister revealed to me that she still had feelings for Jeff, as well. Torn and confused I reverted to indifference out of fear and a week later began dating another admirer as what I suppose would be called coping mechanism.

(To be honest though, I really did have strong feelings for Jeff, in a way I always did. He was always a person I wanted to talk to, but was too afraid to address. When we finally did become friendly, I realized that we could talk about absolutely anything--we had the same interests, the same sense of humor, the same views and morals: he soon became my favorite person to talk to and remains so today.)

After successfully breaking the one person's heart that I never wanted to even scratch, to save the heart of the other one person I never wanted to harm, my sister, I spent the next few months with my own heart compromised. As I tried to convince myself that I was happy, I slowly realized that I was frustrated and indifferent. As I tried to convince myself that I felt a connection with my boyfriend, I found myself sneaking more and more seductive glances at Jeff. As I tried to imagine an ideal situation, I realized that it was long off and miles of stress away. When I finally could take no more of this, my faux-relationship ended, as we both realized the disconnect between us, and I slowly began to secretly rebel against my reasoning: setting my heart free to pursue the man I could not get off my mind, in secret.

We spent the summer together, under cover of night. Confined to obscure restaurants, cars, and parks we discovered the depths of our passion as we continued to go out of our way to remain a secret: as we went out of our way to maintain our happiness. Though some of the most stressful months, they became of the happiest. The innocent cheek-pecks turned to passionate kisses as the leaves turned from green to orange and on the brink of autumn we found ourselves inseparable. Unfortunately, fall meant change: fall meant distance. Now officially a couple, known to ourselves and ourselves alone, we agonizingly spent the first month of our relationship 2 hours apart, at different ends of the state. Sustained by late-night telephone calls and a constant flow of text messages we made it through the miserable month and were reunited, but only for a short time. After this separation, we decided to never experience its pain again.

We spent the following months in perfect bliss, visiting each other on the weekends and making up for lost time. Finally, in December I confronted my sister, telling her that I had been dating Jeff for awhile--a situation that had nearly given me an ulcer for fear of losing either of the two. Surprisingly, she was happy for me and subsequently over Jeff. We were in the clear. Later that day, we became official (or at least, "Facebook Official"). And the rest, I suppose, is history (as they say.)

So there you have it: In case you were curious, Yes, Jeff and I have more-or-less been dating since the end of January 2008. Officially dating since August 21, 2008. Facebook Officially dating since December 2008.

We have been together through the highs and the lows, the laughter and the tears, the anxiety and the ecstasy and are stronger for it. I know I'm young and probably naive, I know a lot of people say this foolishly (including myself at one time), but I know above all else, that I love Jeff with my entire heart. I don't care if you understand or if you don't care whatsoever, but I needed to say it. After everything I've been through with him, I find it impossible to not say it.

And so the Princess, for once, was rescued by her Knight in Shining Armor who rode off with her into the sunset, towards a happily ever after.