Best February Ever

February is always the time when it won't snow, and the snow won't melt. It feels like winter will never end, and the cold wind will never stop blowing. It's the month to crave watermelon, lemonade, and corn on the cob. It's midterm season. The nights still start early. The mornings start early too. Earlier than I get up...

Maybe that's why this February seems different from the rest. Maybe it's because I'm out on my own. Maybe it's because this year midterms actually mean that the semester's half over. Maybe it's because I am actually in a relationship. Maybe it's because I'm in a relationship that is mutual and both of us are happy where we are. Maybe it's because I'm living on my own.

Regardless, I've got a bucket of chocolate next to me, a new teddy bear to cuddle, and it's not unbearably hot in my apartment.

Quite honestly, I'm glad my boyfriend lives two hours away. It makes the time we have together special. And that time together is usually on the weekends when i refuse to study. which means our time is both special AND unstressed!

my boy can read my mind. If i didn't like it so much it would almost be scary.
my boy makes me laugh. which is a far cry from what the last few could do.
my boy speaks fluently to my father.
my boy will let me bite him.
my boy knows what really matters and will put that first.
my boy loves me for who i am, and doesn't ask for anything else.

thank you scott. thanks for everything.

Because I CAN

(CNN) -- Was it a theft? A prank? A roundabout effort to bring some holiday cheer to the police? Authorities in Harwich, Massachusetts, are probing the mysterious appearance of a piano, in good working condition, in the middle of the woods.

A police officer examines an oddly placed piano in the woods of Harwich, Massachusetts.



Discovered by a woman who was walking a trail, the Baldwin Acrosonic piano, model number 987, is intact -- and, apparently, in tune.

Sgt. Adam Hutton of the Harwich Police Department said information has been broadcast to all the other police departments in the Cape Cod area in hopes of drumming up a clue, however minor it may be.

But so far, the investigation is flat.

Also of note: Near the mystery piano -- serial number 733746 -- was a bench, positioned as though someone was about to play.

The piano was at the end of a dirt road, near a walking path to a footbridge in the middle of conservation land near the Cape.

It took a handful of police to move the piano into a vehicle to transport it to storage, so it would appear that putting it into the woods took more than one person.

Asked whether Harwich police will be holding a holiday party in the storage bay -- tickling the ivories, pouring eggnog -- while they await word of the piano's origin and fate, Hutton laughed. No such plans.

Harwich police have had some fun, though. Among the photos they sent to the news media is one of Officer Derek Dutra examining the piano in the woods. The police entitled the photo "Liberace."

A good friend just sent this to me, knowing my penchant for pianos, strange occurrences, and forestry.

The thought that comes to mind is for my dream house, which WILL include a round living room whose walls are entirely windows. In the exact center of this room will grow a tree. A tree whose leaves inspire the Greeks, and whose bare branches scrape ones soul. (also can't be fruit bearing... Cuz I don't want fruit rotting in my house. And it can't be poisonous for dogs, but i digress)

Beneath this tree will sit a piano. Not just any piano, but a Black Steinway 3/4 Grand Piano.

(Not like this one.)

And I will be happy.

And I'll hang white string lights from the tree...
And I could build a treehouse in the tree...
And I can rake my living room in the fall...
And if its a flowering tree I'll play my piano in the midst of cascading petals
And I'll play my piano in the midst of cascading leaves in October
And the moon will shine through my transparent ceiling and I will play for her, just as she has played for me.



And it's totally never going to happen.
but a girl can dream, right?

we are not alone.

he calls himself god's version of a crash test dummy. a sick and twisted soul.
i don't see that in him.

what do i see?

i see a confused child, wondering, wandering.

he has some inclination of where to go but he gets distracted by shiny things along the way.
he picks up the glitzy trinkets, fingering them, awed by their brightness.
he forgets that it's just the trash left over from another person.

the trash consumes his vision, his hands, his mind. he sits down on the side of the road and just stares.

sometimes he realizes that it's crap, and moves along a little farther. he keeps walking a little bit. until he forgets what's trash and what's not and picks up a sequin shard and marvels at that instead.

sometimes he finds a truly fantastic piece of trash, marvels at it longer, and then puts it in his pocket to take out occasionally while walking.

the thing is he's so fascinated by the crap in his hands, in his pockets, that he can't look up. He can't bear to see what makes the shiny things shine in the first place (the sun)
he can't bear to see the true beauty around him - the beauty he can't take with him, the beauty that is even more so when he keeps going further.

i know he's seen glimpses.
but his pockets are simply too full.


STRIP IT OFF AND RUN NAKED. I DARE YOU.

i know you know you want to.

you can know what it's like to be free.

i promise.