I believe that there are still a few of you who have read me long enough to remember the house sitting gig I had a few years ago. I was hired by a woman who I had met at a gym I worked at. The stay was lovely. I was away from my family and all craziness for like 4 nights, and I got to sleep with the most adorable poodle mix puppy ever (he was the final straw — I wanted a small doggy after that). There was the greatest pool (with stone and waterfalls in 2 different levels) in the backyard the size of a park – surrounded by the prettiest stone patio. Her house was filled with wooden elephants , and she had this carousel horse that she had repainted in the middle of her living room. Her house smelled like lemon root oil defuser stuff and cigarettes. She lit cigarettes off of the other, and it didn’t bother me, because I had just quit and decided that smelling cigarettes was just about as good as having one. When she left, I found the carton of cigarettes in the refrigerator, and convincing myself that I could just have “one little one by the pool outside”. I suddenly – in one puff – started to smoke again. I literally removed the nicotine patch from my body so that I could enjoy the cigarette more, which doesn’t sound so strange to smokers, probably, but sounds incredibly sick to me now in retrospect. By the time she had returned home I had shared the joy of lighting one cigarette after another, and another, and another – and 4 packs later I was pretty much back on the “saddle” again.

She never had children. Had been divorced, and worked only to afford the vacations she went on as often as she could. She was young at heart, filled with energy, and made me laugh often and loudly…the kind of laughter you might hear from me if you catch me off guard with a particularly funny joke. The kind of laugh that echos – comes out with a loud blast of HA! followed by maniacal giggles. She had a sense of humor as dry as toast, and would say something with such a straight face that I would have to search in her eyes for a twinkle to know if she were kidding or not. She had a convertible – that she often drove with the top down. It was shiny and well taken care of. She was the kind of older woman you would want as a grandmother. She was hip. Cool. Funny. Sharp. Energetic. Pretty. Alive from her head to her toes – and insisted on everyone around her being the same way. And she embraced me, as most of the older women at the gym did those days. Always asked me about school. Always wanted to know how I was doing. Always managed to make me smile. She delighted in me in much the same way I delighted in her. So when I heard years later that she had full blown lung cancer, I couldn’t quite believe it. Inside of me I refused to see her as sick, so I never visited her. I said that I would, but I never picked up the phone to call. I stood by while a mutual friend called to check in on her, and I cried when I thought about how terribly unfair it was to be addicted to something that could eat you up inside – literally – but I never went to see her. I heard she was doing better a few months ago.

But a few hours ago, I was notified that she was dead.

So while I could go on and on in true CeCe fashion about how horrible it feels to not have paid my respects to her while she was living, and how even though I know she knows what is in my heart, it still would have done a world of good (wouldn’t it?) to have told her while she was living that she was important and would be missed. Trust me – I could write 5 blog entries about that. A caller of mine has adopted me into the Jewish Family — and I’m pretty sure with my Christian background and now Jewish indoctrination that I can wallow in guilt and remorse for at least as long as “we” wandered around in the wilderness eating manna. But that doesn’t make for great blogging. Or maybe it does. But I’m not in the mood for all of that.

What I’m in the mood for is something I thought I would never do as a new “ex” smoker (1 year ago March!). I’m going to lecture and nag everyone I know who smokes. I’m going to nag so hard you’ll wonder what the hell got into me. I’m going to nag so hard that callers of mine who DO smoke will either quit immediately, call someone else in fear that i will smell smoke on them and lecture them at 1.85/minute, or make a pledge to never tell me they do if they do. I’m going to nag my friends to stop smoking. I’m going to nag the person next to me smoking in the car with a kid in the back seat. I’m going to nag the people at my gym who promote health and well being, but then step outside and smoke on their breaks. I’m going to be THAT ex smoker people can’t stand. And I’m going to enjoy every fuckin’ minute of it.

I’m horrible at goodbyes. As I’ve proven in the above story with a fairly good friend of mine. More than acquaintance, got christmas presents from her one year, but lost touch when I left the gym she worked out at kind of friend. So imagine how I’d be if one of YOU were to die. And before you say something smart like “But CeCe … how would you know…” I’ll just say – I have my ways of figuring it out. There’s a network some of you have no clue about (half joking). Ok – mostly 100 percent joking. I wouldn’t know. But suddenly you wouldn’t be sending me notes on NF, leaving me comments, or calling. And I would wonder – and your presence WOULD be missed. And if you told me you were sick – I wouldn’t be able to handle it much better than I did in my friend’s case. And not saying goodbye to someone who is sick and dying really puts a damper on things so I would be a bit fucked up for days. And since all things lead back to me (lol) – don’t do that to me. You know what I’m trying to say. So since I’m bad at goodbyes – I’m pledging to do as much as I can so that people I love and care about won’t die at their own hands.

So here we go. Here are some reasons why you probably don’t wanna continue smoking (if you do). If you aren’t a smoker, feel free to skip over this part – or pass it along to someone who is a smoker and join me in being a nag. Embrace your inner nag. You know you wanna.

IF DYING DOESN’T SCARE YOU…MAYBE THIS WILL:

• Smoking speeds up mental decline. You heard me. Or maybe you didn’t. If you smoke – chances are you’ll not remember where you put your cigarettes or ashtray or lighter. You won’t remember where you put your dentures either, and will probably forget that you left the stove on. You’re dangerous at this point of mental decline, and will be hospitalized, where you’ll have to endure all the great things that old people who can’t remember who they are endure. Not fun.
• Smoking increases your chances of having lupus. Lupus isn’t fun. It hurts. You’re in pain a lot and there is nothing you can do about it. Except to light up another cigarette. If only you could remember where you put them — and if only you could get up and move your pain ridden body.
• SID Syndrome … you know that horrible disease that takes the lives of innocent little babies? Well guess what? All that smoke you’re inhaling (if you’re a woman and expecting) or exhaling into the air so the mother of your unborn child can inhale, is increasing the risk of your child dying of SID. So not cool.
• Oh, and if your baby doesn’t die, you will wish YOU could, because smoking has also been led to Colic. Your baby is going to HATE life as much as you are going to hate life and will let you know every minute of his/her existence for months. No Hush Little Baby for you!
• But you may not have to worry about the last 2 issues, because smoking also makes your dick limp. Oh yes it does. A recent study showed that a man who smoked about a pack of cigarettes a day had 60 percent chance of penile disfunction. And we all know what that is, don’t we?
• As if not being able to get hard is painful enough — there’s more. Did you know that men who smoke are 4 times more likely to suffer from a disease called macular degeneration? What is that? Glad you asked. Basically it’s a degeneration in part of your brain that causes blindness. This will probably come in handy though, because if you can’t get hard, you certainly don’t want to be able to look at porn, right?
• Acid Reflux, Arthritis, Breast Cancer (men get it too), Depression and thyroid disease. Just a few more reasons to stop smoking — in case lung cancer and cardio vascular disease doesn’t scare you enough to quit.

There are many more reasons to quit smoking other than the most obvious one (me – duh!). As crappy as things get sometimes, is that one cigarette worth shortening the time you have here on this earth as a valuable member of society, as a friend, father, mother, son, daughter, client, boss, etc? If you can’t quit for yourself yet, then find someone who is worth quitting for until you get some sense knocked into you. Please. It’s really not worth it.

If anyone would like some information/tips on how to quit, let me know. I have some tricks up my sleeves (and some websites and resources). There are several relays going on so if anyone would like to donate either their time, energy, or make a donation to the American Cancer Society, you’ll have more than enough opportunities to do so. I’m planning on walking this year (preferably with out the spiked coffee!) at a relay. It’s an eye opening experience being around family members and survivors of cancer.

Anywho – thank you for listening to me rant. As you can imagine, it’s been a pretty emotional last few hours for me, and I just needed a place to unload it for a bit. I don’t believe in people doing things because they are “scared” into it for the most part. But I think that when I smoked, I really was in a lot of denial about what I was doing to my body, and to the body and lungs of those around me. I think if I had really stopped to think about what I was doing, I would have stopped earlier. I’m just hoping that a little bit of knowledge will go a long way.

It’s time to open our eyes.

I could use a massage.  A deep tissue – God I’m going to weep – Will you please marry me and father my children – Oh God It Hurts So Fuckin Good – Massage.  It has been a long time since I felt like this.  I get tired from working out at the gym – but I rarely get that deep sore feeling.  I feel it in my hips, butt, and muscles that I didn’t realize were even part of the anatomy of humans.  And I’m going back to spin tomorrow.

Listen, it’s not my fault.  I could stop if I wanted to.  I just don’t want to right now.  I was minding my own business when my cousin asked me if I was going to go to spin again tomorrow.  I suddenly thought to myself – wait a second – if I don’t go she’ll go and she’ll get the "burn" with out me and I’ll be jealous.  Before I could stop myself I said yes. And that, my friends, is the final step to my addiction.

Don’t worry.  I’ll be fine.  I’m more complaining just to complain and draw attention to the fact that I hurt.  But I signed up for it.  I knew that on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays I would be spinning and then about 7 hours later returning back to the scene of the crimes and having the nazi trainer kick my ass.  I knew this – and yet I continued on.  My reasoning?  I need to get cardio in somehow.  So why not?  Just a second, my arms are telling me the many reasons why not…

The good news is: I haven’t felt better.  I really have not.  I think since the moment I stopped smoking I have been funky inside.  Just feeling kind of blecky and not quite right.  I definitely feel a big difference and much more myself now after the gym. I know I get a bit obsessive about certain things and I’ll try to even things out a bit by next week, I promise.  I know I’m all jock heavy right now and you’re all wondering if I’m planning on beefing up and competing for the title of most outrageous muscles on a girl type contest.  I totally don’t want buff – I want the slight jiggle I gained when I stopped smoking to tone up under my arm right there.  I want the little back fat pocket right there to go away and never return.  I want a firmer ass and more toned arms. More than that, I want to be able to run on the treadmill one day just cuz I can, I want my endurance to carry me further than I thought it could.  I want to be able to fill my lungs up with air and not start coughing from asthma or left over tar in my getting pinker by the day lungs. I want to beat my trainer in planks on Friday.  Today I held mine for 1 minute 30 seconds.  My goal is 2 minutes. I’m gonna beat her ass and make her cry on Friday.  Yeah.  (no – there aren’t tickets available or audio quite yet…)

I just got done reading about cigarettes – and as much as I told myself I wouldn’t be one of those ex smokers who lectured people about smoking, I’m about to be. Yeah Yeah Yeah – I know your erection just took a nose dive – but seriously – nicotine makes your dick go limp quicker anyway – so those smokers who are reading this won’t mind the familiar.   This is all I’m going to say though about it.  I really liked smoking.  I wish I could do it and not get sick and have lungs that worked right and not increase my chances of cancer, but unfortunately I can’t.  So listen up all my callers that are smokers:  If you can honestly tell me that you’ll quit this year, I will give you a free relaxation mp3 that could (it hasn’t been tested so I’m not making any claims! lol) help you relax and refocus and not freak out.  I can (and Tiffy can, too – along with all the other clients I have who stopped smoking…) provide you with lots of information and cheer you on and give you incentives (like the dick that stays harder longer isn’t incentive enough???!!!). The thing is: I’m going to be that kind of ex smoker that everyone hates.  I’m going to be this cheer leader for going to the gym, working out at home, getting some exercise (to the best of your physical ability…) and quitting all those nasty little habits like cigarettes.  Masturbate instead.  I mean it.  Keep your hands busy.  If you are interested in joining the smokefree dreamers (I’ve lost my mind…) then email me on NF or at celinawetdreams at gmail dot com and I will send you a form to fill out (a friendly contract that will hold up in any court of CeCe!) and we will start our make over.  Your family will thank you — and I’m pretty sure it has something to do with global warming because EVERYTHING causes global warming!

That’s all I got for you today.  I’m exhausted and I have some things I still need to work on before I have to go to sleep and do this all over again tomorrow.  I’m taking a nap tomorrow though.  Fuck it.  My day off from the gym is Tuesday – and (sobs) Tuesday was just a few days ago which means I have a whole lotta pain to endure before my next break.  I will (I promise) log in tomorrow.  Probably afternoon.  I have to go to my writing class in the evening (remember?) so I won’t be logging in late that nite.  I WILL be logging in during the day on Friday because I have no social life basically and working out makes me horny.  It really does. I haven’t thought about fucking so much since I found the hitachi wand and named him.

Talk to you soon!

The beginning of this post might read like a scene from some criminal trial.  Where were you on the nights of_______?  What can you tell us about the nights of _____ and _____ and ______ of January, Miss CeCe?  What you mean you don’t recall?  You don’t recall or you don’t wish to disclose the events of the evening of the …well, you know where this is all leading.  I do not have a clue where the time went which is typical CeCe.  I can tell you that a few evenings ago I was captured by my television set and could not tear myself away from the pomp and circumstance except to pee, work out, and eat — probably in that exact order.  I can tell you that when at last I removed myself from the tube o death and brain freeze, I realized that I had not logged in for more than 72 hours and had not spoken/twittered/emailed friends and loved ones (waves to Tiffy) in like forever.  Before that I have no idea what the hell I was doing.  And now it’s the season of "parental visitation" and you may only see me one more time before Easter.  I’m setting your sights low so as to ward off any extreme disappointments.

I can also tell you that I decided, while apparently impaired on some illicit and highly addictive drug, to sign up for an online class and a half.  The half is a class I signed up for to assist me in succeeding in my online class, and the other 1 online class is Health.  And yes, I’m learning about drugs currently.  Illicit ones.  And Tobacco (why didn’t anyone tell me how horrible that shit is for you?  I’ll thank you in 30 years when the risk of me developing lung cancer returns to ‘normal’.  Shesh!  Ever heard of TOUGH LOVE, readers?!).  I learned about penis’ and vaginas last week and was quite taken aback by a rather large ink drawing of a vulva. I had no idea. (makes a mental note to bring hand mirror to bed with her this evening).  Pretty damn interesting.  And I’m a bit more familiar with testes and prostrates, too.  I’d be happy to explain and demonstrate with any of my callers.  All fun aside – this class is truly kicking my ass worse than my nazi trainer at my gym.  Every other day I have to have a chapter read, a quiz taken, and a paper written on some message board where typical students write 3 paragraphs to 10 questions, but CeCe, the over achiever maximum, writes a paragraph PER question, complete with correct citing and … well… punctuation.  For the most part. Then on every Sunday, which is suppose to be a day of rest, football, and relaxation – we have a 75 point test on the chapters we covered during the week.  I’m pulling an A right now in that class – but if I don’t start acing some tests again soon I will be in a bit of a panic.  And even though health isn’t my major and who cares if I get a "B" anyway – I still want to get a good grade in this class because it’s with in my ability to do so. (Eyes her medication with extreme resentment).  I remember the days when I would drop out of that class by now.  Damn it all.  So because of my keen ability to procrastinate like no other, I’m usually reading and writing like an idiot up until 11:59PM the day the assignments are due.  So let’s just say for now that Wednesdays & Fridays are pretty much fucked until around midnight as far as calls are concerned. Even though the tests are all open book, the tests are harder than they would be if I were in a traditional classroom.  30 pages of material, and my instructor will find at least 5 questions that require Google assistance.  Yes, I’m serious. I have a few more weeks of this madness and then the real madness will start when Spring Semester begins.  While I’m only taking a few classes – one of those classes is a Math class.  I’m taking applications for tutors now.  Must be available for last minute questions and must be immune to serious temper tantrums and other disruptive acting out behaviors.  Payment is my happiness.  School costs went up – I can’t afford to pay you…I’ll come to your office and maybe we can work out some other payment arrangements (enter porn music track here).  Speaking of which…

I’ve been busy with THAT situation, too.  Last I heard they will be contacting him and bringing him in for questioning.  Great.  All of a sudden this state got REALLY fuckin small.  I really don’t want to be mentioned in this meeting, and I’m sure I will be.  I don’t understand what questions need to be answered but the more they drag this along into some g.d. Perry Mason type thing, the more I feel like I did something to warrant this – because in order to ask him the question, wouldn’t there then need to be an acceptable answer that would be good enough for "them" to keep him on board?  I’m so not happy about that.  At all.  If you all don’t know what I’m talking about – sorry.  I’m sure you can deduce what is going on from my other posts but because now I don’t know if I’m going to be needing counsel I should probably keep my mouth shut about it.  I can just see it now: CeCe – is this your blog?  Are these some of your fantasies?  Did you write this story about having sex with a Professor for a better grade?  What do you mean, fantasy?  This seems pretty REAL to me.  Did you show Professor Assholewhoshouldn’tbenamed this website?  Are you SURE, CeCe?  Maybe this is the reason for his comment on your paper.  He knew YOU would understand what he was saying, because you DO understand what he is saying, don’t you, CeCe?  Are you crying because of remorse?  Guilt?  Why don’t we just pretend this never happened and just go about our business.  You DID get an A after all.  Yeah.  All this and more goes through my head in regards to this fucked up situation.  He’s ruined a perfectly good fantasy, too.  I’ll hate him forever for that!

blah.

I’m vaguely aware that I’m working out most of my frustrations at the gym these days.  My newest obsession? Spin class.  I went the first time, limped out on wobbly legs and I was hooked.  I’m going to a spin class tomorrow today so I should really be going soon.  My goal is by the end of the week to go 3 times a week.  It’s good cardio and it kicks my ass.  What can I say?  I enjoy the challenge and I enjoy the burn.  Tiffy got me an early … how should we explain it, Tiffy? An early Valentines present and when I get it programmed (soon, Tiffy, I promise!) it will show me exactly how badly that class kicks my ass, but I heard you can burn up to 700 calories in an hour – easily.  People said that the class was better than sex and after taking it 2 times now, I can honestly say that spin class is better than sex.  The seat is hard – you get totally wet, it feels so good it hurts, and it lasts longer than most sex I’ve had.  Oh – and it comes (no pun intended) with a great soundtrack most of the time.  The best part is when you’re done you can just get up and leave with no questions asked, no awkward silence, and you don’t have to figure out what to do with the wet spot/s.   Though I do have to say (to be fair) most of the online sex I get is much better than spin class. I just don’t get it enough (and who’s fault is that, CeCe?) I know I know…

Final thoughts?  I’m sorry I haven’t been on as much as I would like.  I will be logging in and keeping a better schedule. I have been on for a few hours here and there but you gotta call me or make an appointment as soon as you see me peaking my little head up; the last few days I’ve been on a power getting to know you calls that totaled over 10 hours in just 2.5 days.  Although my ‘husband’ JK will not be contacting me that extensively over the next few weeks, I do have other lovers (ooooh – that sounds so sexy and grown doesn’t it?) who I speak to for long periods of time.  A quick review: If I’m on ALERTS that means that I probably will pick up if I’m awake.  If you see me on AWAY you can certainly arrange calls.  If you see I’m BUSY, you can make an appointment to be next in line up to a specified number of hours.  If you have written me a note to see if I’m really AVAILABLE and you see that I’m on, or if you have a particular fantasy you want me to review before you call – please give me a call and let me know you’ve written me a note.  Sometimes I’m away from my computer but totally able to take calls and AVAILABLE.  I’ll comp you the minute it takes for you to tell me to check my email for your fantasy.  Mike and … there is one other person but I don’t have my notes with me:  I haven’t forgotten about your pic requests and will do so in the next few days.  I seriously didn’t have time to make this post AND find the picture I wanted to send you.  I haven’t forgotten though and thank you for your patience. 

Um … I think that is it.  I mean – there is a whole lot more – but I think that is sufficient.  Look for me tomorrow after I find feeling in my thighs – sometime in the afternoon.  I’m going out to dinner with a girlfriend and won’t be back until later Saturday evening so if you don’t see me in the afternoon look for me definitely after 11:00PM for sure.  Not sure what is going on on Sunday.  Oh – I have to do some work for my other online class, but I’ll try to hurry it on up so we can play a bit. Drop me a note if you want to request a specific time so you can catch me. Until we talk again…

So after staying up until – I dunno – 3:00AM last night (that would be FRIDAY Nite) I woke up this morning at 9:30AM and made myself a delicious bowl of oatmeal before running into the shower, changing for the gym – and heading off to my study group for Geography. We met at the bookstore down the street and drank a cup of Joe (haha) and studying until about … um … 4:00-4:30? and then ran to the gym where I stayed until 7:00PM. I’m going to say something that is going to shock me. Even though I eluded to similar feelings in this post – what I experienced today was like 10 times stronger than that moment.

I was walking on the treadmill – at a good solid 3.8 MPH and a steep 4.5 incline. I was working in my 80 percent target rate about 40 percent of the time – and in my 70 percent target heart rate the remaining time. I was sweating … like a crazy woman; the kind of sweat that pools in between your tits (okay – guys shouldn’t know what that feels like… ) – collects at the nape of your neck – and starts this steady stream down the back of your tank top. By the time you’re done, you have this band of water around your panties (again … guys…) and the treadmill below you has evidence of your leak. When the treadmill tells me I’ve burned about 500 calories and walked a good 3 miles in 45 glorious minutes, it hits me. This feeling like – PRAISE GOD I AM ALIVE AND I AM HEALTHY AND I GOT PEOPLE WHO LOVE ME feeling. I want to raise up my hands and start jumpin up and down yelling to everyone about how fuckin great life is and how glad I am to be an American. It is at 45 minutes that it kicks in and I start to increase the speed – pushing my heart rate even faster – and feeling like I have come down from the best orgasm with Mr. Hitachi Wand EVER. I LOVE that feeling. I always end on this surge of energy – and an embarrassment that I was going to quit 30 minutes earlier.

The Nazi trainer pushed me so hard the other day (I asked her to because I was angry at the English teacher I once loved. It’s true. Check it out… I actually loved him at one point. How foolish was I?) that I was woke up thinking about her. I had asked Ms. Nazi to push me hard and she was all to happy to accommodate me. It was “leg” day – and I sat and pushed and did abductor and adducters and lunges and planks and … by the time I left I knew she had kicked my ass into a new dimension. But it felt good. So back to this morning – when I woke up – I had to stand in the shower for a good 30 minutes and just let the hot water penetrate the soreness. It wasn’t pretty – but again – I felt really great! So ok – today – I walk for an hour. 673 calories later – I’m HIGH. I feel like nothing can stop me. I go straight to the counter and I ask if there is a trainer available. A sweet guy that I call Scott Baio (spelling?) -the younger years – volunteers to work me out. I am doing pull ups (ok – they cheat and take away half of my body weight but still… !), I’m doing bicep curls and chest press thingees and working my triceps and then I go to do planks and BAM! Right on my face. I had no arms. Nothing in my arms. They were tingling and burning a little – and I felt a little light headed – and it was the BEST feeling (next to an orgasm with Mr. Hitachi Man and ‘you’) that I’ve ever had … EVER. I think it’s happened. I think I’m addicted to the burn.

I told Ms. Nazi the other day that I want so badly to tell her no when she asks me for 10 more lunges while carrying weights across the floor. I so badly want to kick her in the vagina — hard — when she asks me for 10 more seconds while holding the damn plank and I can hardly see because sweat is dripping into my eyeballs and blinding me. I so badly want to tell her to go to hell when she asks me to do step ups on the weight bench while holding 15 pounds close to my chest like am “old friend”. And when she puts me on the stair climber and asks me to walk up backwards to work my ass – I want to kick her in hers. But there is something inside of me – this incredible stubborness that can not say “no”. I say “yes” – and if it doesn’t burn enough I grunt out “2 more!” I have become that gym rat we all love to hate. For years I have been that type of girl who exercised because it was necessary to do in order to enjoy the things I enjoy. But I didn’t like it one bit. I liked the results – but not the process. I swear – no matter how much I complain about the nazi, no matter how much I may hate Scott Baio tomorrow when I try to lift my arms to brush my teeth, no matter how badly I think muscle heads are kinda a little loopy and in a league of their own – and that people who are so into their bodies really need to spend more time with friends and/a social life…no matter how much I might try to say those types of things – or believe in those things – the truth remains: I am in love with that burning feeling.

Who oh that burning feeling.

I put every bit of anger I had into those weights and treadmill today — and I only partially still want a cigarette. Which is really good because usually cigarettes are the only things that make me feel better when I’m that mad. And that’s another story for another day (the reason why I was mad…) – it’s 1:34AM and I’m way tired. I’m going to drink tons of water – take some Advil and get up so I can … yup… go to the gym. Hopefully I’ll be able to get some energy and then I can come back and talk with some of you. Unless there’s football – in which case I’ll do some studying – then come back later and play with you.

Even “The Burn” is no substitute for you guys! Come on! I’m not cumming on the treadmill or the weight machines. The gym just supplies that after sex shudder – that aftershock. Nothing but sex can deliver the true Earth Shattering Experience of an Orgasm. Well, except for Mr. Hitachi wand. And a really great shoe sale. And getting an A on a final. And realizing I have only one more class with Mr. AssholicalExtraordinaire.

And a nice marble. *if you don’t know – you should ask me!*

but yeah. The burn has nothin’ on you. But it is a rather nice discovery.

I know I probably should be writing about something like school – or my no smoking (3 weeks – thank you VERY much!) – but all that is coming to mind is Atticus. My newest brain crush.

As many of you know – I’ve been trying to watch To Kill A Mockingbird now for the past … I dunno – YEAR? I finally sat down and watched it the other night (it was a hard decision – A movie – or haploids, mitosis, meiosis, etc. But I FINALLY made a decision and buckled in and went for it!) What a lovely movie that was. And what an absolutely adoring father Atticus was. He was just so gentle and kind and strong and … wise. He is definitely the kind of father every father should strive to be. So yeah – brain crush and then some. Not to mention – Gregory Peck. Holy cow was that guy hot! He was so hot I couldn’t even fantasize about him. I know that sounds really strange – but – there it is. I use to think that Michael Landon was hot too – and could never have a fantasy about him, either. I would watch Little House on the Prairie and honestly just want to be Laura and curl up in his lap in a very innocent non sexually deviant way. I have those moments…that’s why you all love me.

I know it’s been like forever since I’ve written anything in here. Thankfully you’re all very understanding and you know that I have very good reasons – but it doesn’t make me feel any better that I’ve somehow neglected this blog. It’s deeper than that, though. I haven’t written anything lately – nothing in my journal, nothing on scraps of paper, nothing at all. And I’ve somehow been okay with that. I miss writing, but I don’t miss the – struggle. Writing to me is like – Gregory Peck and Michael Landon and all the other brain crushes I’ve ever had: It’s so perfect that sometimes I feel better leaving it alone and not tainting it with bullshit. We’ve all been down this road with CeCe before – but there it is.

My family is still in town and they are scheduled to leave soon. That should free up a bit of time – but school is still kicking my tender ass from one side of the state to the other. My biology teacher likes me now – and I’m pulling a rather disappointing C+ in biology right now – inches away from the B+ I would long to have but feel a sort of ambivalence to achieve. I have her figured out though. I had a feeling we would have a quiz today and we did. She is encouraging though, handing me back my tests and quizzes with notes on them like “Keep up the good work, CeCe – you’re improving” and all that other kind of stuff that typically propels me forward to get that A just to prove my worthiness. And Biology isn’t all that boring right now. For instance, did you know that as soon as the earth began to cool – and water appeared – there was life? Just like that. Reminds me of this story my father told me after reading the paper a few months back. Apparently there was a river – pretty big river – that was filled to the rim with fish and life and … well whatever else lives in rivers. This river suddenly dried up. Life around the river just died – along with everything in it. The big environmentalist people were concerned and knew that they needed to bring the river back. The scientists predicted that it would take years before life returned to the river and the surrounding area. They slowly filled the river back up again and with in months – not years – but a few mere months – BAM! Life. Birds and fish, and plants and flowers and animals – in abundance. So – yeah. I find that all very interesting and very … symbolic. I can get into that sort of biology.

So Atticus is my irrigation. Ok, ok – literature is my irrigation. I guess I need to do a bit more reading/watching and those types of things will literally wash over me and bring me back to life again. My writing coach told me that I need to write for at least 2 hours every day. It should be my “job” he said. I should just sit down and do it – and there should be no alternative. I worry about silly things – like what I will say – or what will come out of my head – or whether or not anything I write will make much sense and whether or not I should print any of it here – but I guess all that worrying does is prevent me from doing anything at all. So – I will try to write more and “worry” less. Words, after all, are my water.

It’s 10 minutes till Tuesday and I haven’t even started my podcast for the day. I’m banking on doing it tomorrow but I hate to make promises. You know how I get. What I will say is that thanks to “Mr. d” – I have a question for the podcast – and thanks to Atticus I have a topic, and thanks to my callers I have some feedback to share – and thanks to some super sweet and generous callers and friends I have some gifts to brag about that have recently made their way to my wish list’s “purchased” list.

Take care – and talk to you tomorrow…