It's been some time, and for that I am genuinely sorry.

I'm thinking about something a new colleague said yesterday. She said that she thinks that loneliness is the hardest emotion to bear, and I disagreed. I think the loss of a child is the hardest thing to bear.

However, loneliness is probably one of my least favorites.

I do not think it is unbearable. I don't want to bear it forever, though.

Singlehood has a lot to say for itself. I get to do what I want, when I want. I don't have to ask permission to go to school, or to stay out late, or to eat what I want, or to raise my kid how I want. I much prefer being alone to being with the wrong person for any amount of time.

But I miss things. Being touched, and laughing with someone. Talking late in the night wrapped up in blankets. Having in-jokes and making eye contact that no one sees, or if they do, they don't understand because they don't speak the language.

I'll wait. I say that I'm not patient, but that is not entirely accurate. I will wait and work forever for the things that I want, so I am patient in my persistence. I do, though, get frustrated in the waiting.

But I still wait.

Things I am obsessed with right now:

Alexander Skarsgard
Summer dresses
The long hair dreams I've been having
Persuasion, starring Amanda Root and Ciaran Hinds
Getting ready for school to start
Painting my toenails a different color every week
Teaching English 101
Formatting manuscripts
Vegetarian food
Bicycles

Auntie Sister came up with a brilliant plan. I have realized that once I decide once and for all what I want or what I want to do, I put my mind to it and make it happen.

For instance - I want to go to grad school.
Boom.

I want to be in a play.
Boom.

I want to marry Alexander Skarsgard and have six ginormous Swedish babies.
BOOM.

Auntie sister's brilliant plan, in this instance, is that I write a script and get my scraggly little bottom to Hollywood. Then I bump into, enchant, and immediately marry Alex, and babies ensue.

I believe I can fly.

Snoop Dogg -

Can't stop thinking about GaGa: my favorite song is "Paparazzi," but my favorite lyric so far is from "Love Game."

"Got my ass squeezed by sexy Cupid,
Guess he wants to play"

The thing about GaGa that's recently troubling me is that she says she's bisexual, but in almost every video there's a recurring theme of killing the boyfriends/husbands/boytoys. She even kills my current obsession (ALEXANDER SKARSGARD) in "Paparazzi." In "Telephone" Beyonce kills her boyfriend and runs of with GaGa (nice work there, esp. with Bee wearing her hair like la Betty Page.)

Anyhoosies, watch True Blood. Sexy sexy boom boom. Hoyt and Eric are my new favorites (my old favorites were Sam and Bill, in that order. And may I say the Bill actor, Stephen Moyer, is far sexier as himself. Man is effing charming. I'm proud of Anna Paquin for scooping that one right up into matrimony. Do it!).

Also reading a book called Rapture by Susan Minot. It's a very interesting read, if nothing else. It's a man and a woman reflecting on life and their relations with each other, all during the span of one blowjob. It sounds gross, but the writing is pretty good. I discovered after I checked it out that the author wrote the screenplay for Stealing Beauty.

"Let's have some fun,
this beat is sick,
I want to take a ride
on your disco stick..."

But do you, GaGa? Do you really?

I had a horrible dream last night that the little voice in my head was kidnapped, incestuously raped, impregnated, and then killed. Sent back to me in a coffin and when I opened it, her head rolled out to me.

It happened because, in my dream, I was so gullible and stupid and desperate to find someone who would love us, that it wasn't until I was about to get on a plane to another country with a man that I thought was the one that I realized he'd never asked me about her biological father. (It occurred to me as well that neither one of myself or my daughter had the appropriate documents to travel overseas.) When I questioned him, he was honest - told me her father's name, that he was living in the country we were going to with a very, very young girl that he forced all the time to dress like a boy, and he'd paid my new "love" to get my daughter. Then he drugged me.

The next scene was me, crazy, alone in a great big house, being observed and mocked by the neighborhood until the truck with her coffin showed up. When her head rolled out to me no one said anything to me anymore.

I just want to feel safe. But I'm terrified of being stupid.

I guess it's just been a very long while since that's happened. Maybe never.