This diary entry is going to be all over the place. For me to place it into some sort of category and stay on topic at this point would take a bit more time…more time than I have to give. Of course, I could always use this need of mine to package my entries in nice pink pretty packages as an excuse to not write an entry for another week - but judging from the emails I’ve received, that option would not be a very kind one for me to take. So, this is what it will be. A grab bag of thoughts, ideas, musings and the likes - hopefully for “your” entertainment. Knowing myself though - I’ll probably be successful in tying it all up at the end. Even my thoughts that seem random tend to follow a distinct pattern.

About a week ago today (give or take a few hours) my kitty died. It actually wasn’t my cat - but after a week of caring for him and trying to decide whether or not I should have him put to sleep (he had kidney failure and was declining faster than I could even keep track of…) I felt as though this cat and I had developed a sort of bond. I purposely had kept myself away from him when he was diagnosed as … well.. .dying. I had noticed his rapid weight loss and watched helplessly while my family disregarded it until there was no denying that he was sick. With my family gone on vacation I found myself alone with my worst nightmare: death. I couldn’t keep my feelings at bay any longer. He would sit and just speak to me - and I would strain to understand what his meows (that were growing weaker by the day) meant.

Last Saturday evening he crawled out from a tight spot behind the entertainment center and would not or could not move. After petting him for awhile and basically freaking out, I realized that he was now paralyzed, and that he would soon die. At the encouragement of my dear Doc (thank you again, sweetheart) I placed his body into a box I had lined with an old blanket. I kept watch over him until my friend 2n’s urged me to go to sleep. I knew that when I woke up Sunday the cat would be dead. And he was. (was it Saturday or Sunday, I’m wondering now…). I somehow sucked it up (although I lost it momentarily at the Vet’s office and needed to call my friend Kylie to calm myself down, but I realized that it was for the best and felt (with the slightest dab of guilt) a bit of relief that it was over.

I did what only CeCe could do under the circumstances. I went to PetSmart - and shopped. There was one remaining kitty at home that needed me - the sister of the deceased, and I intended on making her days a bit brighter by quickly adopting her and raising her; basically taking over her care. (cleaning of the litter box, feeding her, etc.). Maybe in my head (though my heart knew differently) I felt that my family had killed her brother by not picking up on his illness sooner (it wouldn’t have made a bit of difference - Kidney failure is something that can not be cured). Somewhere in my head I felt that I needed to save the last kitty standing so I vowed to be the responsible owner for the rest of her days. I bought a new litterbox, a new bowl for her food - a mat to place in the laundry room so she could wipe her paws after using the new litterbox, and a toy. I cleaned the laundry room from top to bottom and did everything but light a scented candle and scatter rose petals on the floor leading to her new “room”. She wouldn’t budge from her chair in the dining room. I spent what seemed like hours talking to her - explaining what had happened to her brother and reassuring her that he was in a better place and … shesh. I felt like I should have been some funeral director on Six Feet Under or something - so convincing I was of the trite things that were coming out of my mouth. I pet her - and looked into her eyes and bribed her with days away from her dreaded brush (she’s long haired and gets mats) if only she would eat something - or drink a little bit. She would not budge. For 2 days I did not see that cat move from her space - and yeah - I didn’t have my eyes on her for 48 hours - but I could tell she was stuck to that chair like the last life jacket on the Titanic. It was clear to me (duh) that she was indeed mourning and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it but wait it out with her.

Several days later - I noticed her drinking. The other day - she used the literbox and with out getting into too much detail - she must have eaten at least a few bites of something. She seemed to be coming along, although she moved like she was underwater - and had this air about her that screamed, “Why bother?”.

Then a few nites ago we had an earthquake. It wasn’t THAT big - a 4.something - but when I glanced over at the throne that belonged to my little kitty (ok, after I had quit freaking out my damn self - and removed myself from the frame of the doorway and quit saying “OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD”) - it was empty. It took an earthquake to do it - but the queen had been dethroned. She’s somewhere under a bed now and hopefully she’ll reveal her whereabouts when the family returns from their vacation tomorrow.

On top of the pussy drama - I’ve also been facing my family being in Minnesota during the whole bridge collapse thing drama. And if that wasn’t enough to throw me from the train (or at least convince me to throw my own self from it) - there is homework - the final HURRAH! before the finals. One paper to write on a film titled, Almost Famous, and one open note test and I will see some sort of resemblance of freedom. For about 7 days. It has been one heck of a 2 weeks.

I have started to watch the movie, Almost Famous, in order to complete my paper. I have always loved that movie - and yeah - it is written by the one and only brain crush Cameron Crowe. *double sigh hold the whipped cream*.

A funny thing is happening though. Just when I thought that my class on Film was about the stupidest class I ever took in my entire life - it started happening. I started to really dig my class - and I started to really dig my teacher for helping me dig the class. He didn’t really work hard on it - it must have been by accident - but I’m an equal opportunity lovah. Even if you don’t mean to show me something - and even though you may not intend on enriching my life - if something you say sets off some lightbulb above my head - or makes me buy a movie, a soundtrack, a plant, or even some shade of lipgloss I’ve been coveting…I’ll adore you. Well, not really. I’m not all that easy. If you bring something meaningful to me I’ll adore you. If you open my eyes - place something I’ve never tasted before on my tongue and encourage me to…that sounds too sexual! - but if you treat me to something that is new and I change due to the new experience…you will never be forgotten. You’ll place yourself in my heart and I’ll draw on that more times than either one of us could anticipate.

My teacher, who I felt was one of the laziest teachers around, made me look at films in a completely different light. He made me notice things - not just get swept away in the fantasy (which is good, too!) like I usually do. I started to watch Almost Famous tonight - writing down notes on a notepad in front of me so I wouldn’t forget key things and realized this was the first time I ever saw this movie. I mean - REALLY SAW the movie. I started to ask questions. Why is the camera drifting over the items so quickly in the drawer and slowing down on THE PLAZA key? Tickets to specific shows? Backstage passes? A pen? How come I never noticed the “family whistle?” or the way young William punches an imaginary keyboard when he answers his mother’s question what the difference between FECK and FUCK is with, “the letter ‘U’”? How come I never quite understood the whole, “It’s all happening” bandaid chick - and connected that to the beginning of young William’s journey into becoming a journalist - or more specifically - his journey from awkward 15 year old to courageous and sensitive ADULT?

I’m thinking about all of these things because of my teacher - the one I was furious with for having not taught me a single thing all semester. And maybe he didn’t… on purpose, anyways. Whatever the reason … I have changed and I will never forget him for the new “taste” he introduced me to. I have gained from this class what so many adults have been telling me is valuable: another perspective, another way of looking at things, a new vantage point, more “fuel” for the fire that continues burning inside of me. For a bit of time I thought that maybe this class was extinguishing the flame that would be my “education” - my (laughing) thirst for knowledge, as trite and unoriginal as that line may be. What a great feeling this is: excitement at being able to see a film I’ve watched at least 15 times - in a whole new light!

Can you guess the next line? Very good!

It’s all happening!

This summer has blown on by for me. I have one more week of classes - a nice little week and a half off before I start fall semester, and the FALL sales have already caught my eye. It’s not the clothing sales that delight me so, although I can be tempted to splurge like every other girl on a new back to school wardrobe. It’s the SCHOOL supplies that thrill me - stores like Staples and Office Max/Depot and Target that cry out my name, begging me to take a step into their aisles where notebooks and folders fill my eyes and the color of crayons and elmer’s glue fill my nostrils. My favorite part of going back to school (besides finding out who my home room teacher was going to be!) was shopping for supplies. This year is no exception. Clutter be damned - I will have my new favorite pens again this year, brand new notebooks to write and doodle on, and folders that never quite seem to get used for their intended purposes.

I realized today that I haven’t spoken much about my most recent feedback. I try to extend my thank you’s in here to my customers because I figure everyone likes to see their names in lights, right? *wink*. I’m not always good at following through with things (big surprise, right?) so my “shout outs” have fallen a bit by the wayside. I’d like to do things a bit differently tonight. I’d like to speak to some of the latest callers I’ve had - while maintaining a certain amount of decorum while doing so.

To my dear caller who never ceases to check in on me to see if there is anything “he can do for me” - thank you so much. It meant a lot to me to get email from you asking me how my family was after the horrific event in Minneapolis. That you remembered where my family was from the few times that I mentioned it, and wrote me from concern and offered your prayers for their safety, IS appreciated more than all the trinkets, books, letters, love notes (lol) and tips you’ve given to me. To think that there are some folks out there that think people like you (your profession) are heartless and mean spirited (lol!) surprises me. Honestly, I have not ran across anyone as loving as you are in a very long time.

To my dear caller who insists on being “miffed” at me - I have one word for you - and one word only: black. Yup. Did I save you a shopping trip, Missy?

To the multitude of callers who make it their mission to make me laugh at least 5 minutes during every call we do together or who appropriately laugh at my somewhat disturbed, wicked, and downright sinful sense of humor: Thank you Thank you…no, Thank YOU! Lumping you all together may seem like an easy way out but so be it. You know who you are. The fact that you find me so entertaining of course goes a long way - but in addition to that, your sense of humor delights and tickles me, and keeps me from taking myself too seriously (which is quite easy for me to do … believe me!).

To my friends who call me weekly, and even daily, if only to check in with me and tell me they read my diary or ask me how I am doing - or remind me to check my mail or whatever we talk about briefly: Thank you so much for making the summer not so blue. You have indeed been my cure for my summer time blues this year.

*sigh* Whenever I do these thank you posts I always feel like I should be walking away with an Oscar or Emmy or something. (And I’d like to thank my parents for always believing in me. I LOVE YOU MOM!!!) I just don’t believe I can ever appropriately thank my callers for being my callers, friends, clients, victims (Mr. Pillow Humper), etc.

Hopefully I’ve helped you all enjoy your summer a bit more - and hopefully you’ll think about me when you’re walking thru the school supply aisle. LOL! Pick up one of those tablets you had to use for printing and cursive writing and just run your fingers over the paper inside. Think back to - I don’t know - a favorite teacher. Or maybe a really great time you had with your school friends or maybe even the best joke you played on a kid that sat in the seat in front of you. Buy some erasers just because - or sniff some elmer’s glue (or eat it if you were one of those kids) and see what types of memories come flooding back to you. Maybe you’ll get why the next few weeks are so exciting to me. Maybe not…but if you do: Welcome. Welcome to the beginning of my favorite time/season of the year!

Talk with you soon.

Be Safe & Be Happy.

I cried when I moved to California. My boyfriend at the time had broke up with me and I remember when he broke up with me it was the first time I had ever felt… destroyed. I had had other “boyfriends” before - but this is the first boy that I ever really loved. He stuck by me through all kinds of harsh realities of my teen life - and we would sit by the river and I’d watch him take pictures. Yeah - he was a photographer who drove a grand am. *sigh*. Beyond all that - he just was a really sweet person. He was quiet, like my favorite brother, and drank mountain dew that he kept in the trunk of his car. In a cooler. I’m not lying. He was cool. And he had a car. That bears repeating. It was a nice car. Had to say it again.

Somehow he knew I needed to leave, though, and he figured that if he broke up with me I would leave quicker. I think he thought it would be easier for me.

The day I was going to make my decision he confessed that he didn’t really love me. It felt like some scene from Pretty In Pink - when Molly Ringwald confronts Andrew McCarthy and calls him a liar when he says that he doesn’t love her basically. I hit Ken. I hit him so hard my hand hurt. I hit him right in the chest - unknowingly aiming for his heart because I felt at that moment that he had broken mine. I swear that was the first time I had ever cried over a boy. I just existed for days and when I remembered to breathe this pain would just fill my body and I’d start to cry all over again.

I was homesick for years. But I never went back to Minnesota. I never went back to the little mini apple - and I never spoke to Kenneth G. again.

Minneapolis is a little town that should be painted purple. Purple for Prince. You gotta know and love Prince to understand all that. The city I lived in had a “downtown” but I had never been downtown until I went to the Twin Cities. Once I was there - I thought I would never leave. The Mississippi River acts like some sort of border that meanders through that city quietly and steadily. The winters are horrible there (which is part of the reason I moved to warmer state) and the winds that come off of the lakes and the river could freeze hell in an instant. I remember walking over bridges in Minneapolis in the winter time and praying that I wouldn’t freeze by the time I reached my destination. Wind in Minnesota can chill your bones in a matter of a moment.

But I felt safe there. Broken hearts, and cold ass walks across bridges, and purple rain be damned - I have never loved a city as much as I loved Minneapolis - and I doubt I ever will.

When I heard the news that a bridge had collapsed in Minneapolis my heart felt like it was breaking all over again. I stayed up all nite last night - calling frantically and finally reaching my family that had just left for Minneapolis Airport a little less than a week ago before. Having reached them, I read to them the chilling news from the internet; they had recieved news but surprisingly the news from my little lap top was more complete than the news from the local television station. I have cousins that cross that bridge monday thru friday on their way to work. I have teachers who live in that city and uncles that work across the river at the Universities. I have memories shot through a camera lense by a boy who broke my heart just a few short years ago. It is a tragedy that hasn’t quite hit me yet - but I feel myself a bit numb because of it.

Earlier today as I left for school a neighbor ran out to the street to speak to me. He’s from Minnesota, too. Surprisingly there are a lot of people here that lived there once upon a time. Before he opened his mouth to speak I told him that my family was fine. Yes - I spoke to them. No they were miles away from the bridge when it collapsed. Yes, I would tell them he asked about them. Yes, there are a few people we haven’t heard from yet, but I’m sure they are going to be fine. Yes - it is horrible what happened. Yes - I understood that they were now RECOVERING bodies and no longer RESCUING them. Yes, it’s important to live each day like it may be your last. Yes, I need to tell people more often that I love them. Yes, I love you too. Yes, I’ll tell you if I have any more news from Minnesota. Yes, if I need anything I’ll be sure to call. Yes, I’m still in shock and can’t believe it happened.

No, I can’t believe that it happened.

Minneapolis - my heart aches for you.