I don’t like Sasha Cohen. Does that make me un-American? There is just something about her that screams “I eat little Japanese girls for breakfast” but this year, FINALLY, a little Japanese girl (a rather gorgeous Japanese girl) watched with what I would call GLEE as Cohen tumbled, loosing all chances of a gold. MUHAHAHAHAHAHA. Shizuka Arakawa, can I shake your hand? (I do hope I’m not considered part of the axis of evil due to this confession.)

Never been the type...

I've never been the type to let the butt-end of life crap all over me. I roll with the punches. I go with the flow. I make silly faces. I laugh for no bloody reason. I giggle uncontrollably and often find it difficult to explain the source of the glee that is me. The joi de vivre (my french is rusty, but me thinks that is close to correct). The joy of life. I'm not a down and out type of gal and it's really been grating my nerves lately. I don't stress. Why do I feel the need to stress now? There is simply no good reason. Not for me. Thesis shemesis. Gordimer flordimer. Sleep weep.. yes, I do miss my sleep. I waxed my mother's floor last night because I couldn't sleep. Oy. Sleep aside -- I'm sucking it up, putting on my big girl britches and moving on. If I don't get accepted into a program, it'll be ok. If I do get accepted, it'll be ok. Whatever happens, it will be ok. Tommi was never meant to be a nailbiting, sleepless, jumble of a mess. She was meant to soar--that's what her wings are for. There is a reason my daddy called me Baby Duck (yes, it had something to do with the whole flat-footed, pitter-pattering--but it's also about flying) The whole pearl, oyster, sand story? I'm totally making my pearl so bring on the sand. The whole shoot for the moon, hit a star? I'm aiming big, baby.
While looking for pictures to express this very sentiment, I came across two very different shots. (I'm limited. I'm at home.) While I seem to be hiding behind the obvious "center of attention" that was my older sister, and even Grandaddy is set on outshining us, what with those bows on his head (stuck lovingly by yours truly), I am no wallflower and the possibilities of life, of my life, are captured in a still frame. (My father seems well aware of the possibility that I may be armed with bows or other such remnants of a Father's Day.) Oh to be young and carefree... (Hallmark. Cheesy. Perhaps a stretch. Let me be. I do what I need to.)

The other picture is from the spread I did for the thai playboy.















I kid. I kid. It's actually from Paris and the garden tub that was bigger than my entire room... And it fully embodies the carefree Tommi who was hellbent on taking on the world and who was in the throws of doing just that. Bangkok, Paris, London -- (Bangkok is totally the new Rome...) Life then was making sure there were enough bubbles to hide the naughty parts and the only bad thing, as Budge always said, was when they changed garbage day to Friday.

I'm working on it, guys. I'm almost back. Bubbles, Dreams, Bows, Smiles, and Love, that's what MY life is about and that's what I'm about to get back to.

Watch me unravel, I'll soon be naked...

Maybe I need Zoloft. It just seems like everything is going wrong and I simply don't know if I should be laughing or crying. Last night I went typical tommi-style and laughed until it hurt and then I laughed harder because I realized it wasn't funny at all. I mentioned at dinner that I feel like I'm slowly unraveling, and I do... That's the best way to describe my current state. It's not funny at all, but when I consider my current state, laughter really seems to be the best response. Whatever could have happy-go-lucky, roll-with-the-punches, my give-a-damns-busted tommi losing sleep, wigging out, laying guilt trips on people for not being there when there's no "good" reason for them to be there, and for laughing so hard she cries and then not remembering whether she was crying before she was laughing or vice versa? No, it's not another episode of Grey's Anatomy--though ask me tomorrow after this "best show ever" episode airs. In short it's everything. I'm second guessing myself, my decisions, my general direction in life, and people. Frankly, I don't like second guessing myself-doubting myself even-but I've reached that point.

In a nutshell--

Gay's dead.
I don't know if this thesis can happen without her.
I don't know that I want it to.
My thesis is due April 17th.

I should be hearing from grad. schools in the next few weeks. I'm terrified that I won't get in. I'm more terrified that I will but that I don't want to go.

My lease is up May 31st. I don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing and while I'm not a person who plans in advance, limbo-land is keeping me from sleeping.

He chose her. It's still funny and I never really wanted him, but he chose her.

My migraines are back.

I haven't written anything in months and that dream is haunting my sleepless nights as well.

The one person I can count on (for the most part) to put things in perspective was't available to me when I needed it and, left to my own devices, I found no solace.

I just need somebody to put me back together again and steady things. A thesis director would help. A career planner might assist. Zoloft could work wonders, but my fear of Tom Cruise will keep me away from such solutions. I just don't know what to do or where to start to get things back on track. I want things to happen for me. Good things. In my life. To chase my demons away.

And for tonight... tommi is clumsy with a side of giggles...

Last night I met some friends at Chefs for wine and smiles. It was a good evening and I thoroughly enjoyed my time there. I didn't drink much at all. One pint of guiness and one glass of wine and that was all. So I drive home and pull up before midnight and all I'm thinking about is how good my bed is going to feel. As I turned off the truck, I planned to go in and take a bubblebath and slip into my sheets. Sounds wonderful, right? So, I go to slide out of the truck, a smile a my face, and my bloody heel gets caught in my seatbelt. I fall from such great heights... into the car that parks beside me and finally skinning my poor lil' knees against that mean mean asphalt....

ouchy...


in other news, VDay is coming up and no one wants to be my valentines....

SEA
the sea is so heavy inside us
and i won’t sleep tonight.
i have buckets of memory in a jar
that i keep for days and nights like these.
--Mxolisi Nyezwa


Late last night I received an email explaining that Gay passed away while in Belize. We’ve known that she’d been battling ASL for awhile, but it still came, comes even, as a shock. I received an email from her less than a week ago and there was nothing in it to indicate how rapidly the disease was consuming her. She tried to hide it, and succeeded for so long, from those who loved her. I am glad that she was in Belize, the land that held her heart will hold her body. It’s fitting and, as we all know, exactly as she would have wanted.

Gay had a way, even after losing her voice, to let you know that everything would be OK. It was there in her eyes, or in the touch of her hand, and even in her laugh. I don’t know how many times I went to her with things that seem so trivial now only to have her complete assurance that everything would be fine. That’s something that few people can give. The belief she had in my abilities not only as a student and scholar, but as a person, has completely altered my perception of who I am and what I can do and for that, I am eternally grateful. I am not alone; the number of lives Gay’s touched is simply infinite.

There’s so much more I want to say about her, but words fail me at the moment. As most of you know, Gay was my thesis director and worked closely with me on my Nadine Gordimer work—so it’s fitting that I can use Gordimer’s words to help express the impact this beautiful, remarkable person had on me.

“People give one another things that can’t be gift-wrapped.”