Goodnight Mr. Mayer

My new favorite days are the days when I realize something negative about myself. I think I spend so much time trying to be positive, I happen to overlook the honestly dark spots. Realizing the bad spots helps me remember that as important as "I think I can, I think I can" mantra, that there are much needed "you suck" moments. So today on the trusty XM I accidentally stumble onto O.A.R's new song "Shattered". I turned it up, raced home, immediately letssingit.com'd the lyrics, opened a bottle of cab, and was all set to pull the trigger on my favorite episode of "Rachel laments into a glass of dark red". And then I had an epiphany (lightning has just struck my brain. . . for you sisty) CONGRATULATIONS. YOU are pathetic and cliche. These lyrics are for the other million trillion people who miss someone and always thinking about going back. Way to go the extra mile to be just like everyone else.

I have a serious problem that is summed up in the oh so sweet words of Lauren Conrad "My type is someone I've already dated". I live in the glory days. I don't necessarily miss people, I miss moments. I miss an awful movie and a drunken cinnamon kiss that smelled like curve. I miss my first "relationship" when it was permissable (but not OKAY by any hygenic standards) to use the other person's toothbrush. I miss sayings, glances, gestures, hand squeezes with a morse code-ish meanings. I miss a beach in California that I swear is still a dream. I miss the bottle of white merlot, a bag of fritos, and all the reprocussions that ensued. I miss the slow dance to #41 and the messages written in my winshield in the morning.

Those moments and people served a purpose for a stage and a phase in my life. Time to stop looking for reasons and to be sad and nostalgic. Time to switch it up. SO I've decided that I am going to memory lane rehab.

1. I'm going to find a healthy habit or a hobby (other than trying out all the new EXTRA fruit sensations gum, but strawberry banana is the best one so far) such as dragging out the classics and reading them again. Starting with Jane Eyre.

2. I will refrain from speaking to ANY of the aformentioned memories in any form. No emails, No texts, No friendly waves from across the questionable establishments in which we might run into each other.

3. I will not listen to any John Mayer, Coldplay, Frou Frou, DMB, Mat Kearney, Lifehouse, etc. I will listen to Jill Sobule, Hole, and Poe until I throw up.

I feel better. Sort of. I'm still drinking that cab. I mean. . . it's already open and stuff.

ADDENDUM:

Cinnamon Curve Kiss is amazing. I stand corrected. Sorry.