For weeks, I wished I could get a hug from Popi one more time.

Between nine and eleven this morning, I got my hug.

See, I believe that when you dream about someone who’s passed away, it’s them visiting you.

This morning, I dreamed that we were all up at the lake, and it was Christmas (except not, because it was summer). In the dream, Popi’s little fishing boat was a huge boat with a deck, used for delivering gifts around the lake. It was up to me, my sister, and my cousins to operate it, since Popi wasn’t able to anymore — I knew he was gone in this dream.

I think Noni played around with it, and none of us could figure it out. Then a healthy Popi pulled me aside and into a big hug, explaining how to use the boat as he hugged me. The hug lasted a long time… and then I woke up.

He knew I needed that hug, and he gave it to me.

Thanks Popi.

• Car insurance and cell phone
• Student loan
• Gym membership
• Gas
• Groceries (snacks, money for eating out, misc. stuff like hairspray and vitamins, etc)
• Cigarettes
• Business expenses (office supplies, ink, computer maintenance, equipment, hosting, etc)
• Savings account (HA!*)

I knew I would have to budget each paycheck carefully, making sure there is enough to go around and hope for some extra. It wasn’t until I read Britt’s humorous post on (not) saving money that I figured out a little system for myself.

First, I made a list of all the above expenses and what I thought each would total in the next month. For example, my September 5th student loan payment is already set, but I wanted to set money aside for next month’s payment, too, just in case. I estimated that I needed $30 worth of gas every two weeks, and that cigarettes are costing me at least $64 a month — if I keep myself at two packs a week. (We’ll see how that works out.)

You get the picture.

Then, I made an envelope for each category.

Budget envelopes

I put the budgeted amount of money in each envelope, and then tucked them away in the Post-it pocket I use for bills. My philosophy: If you treat it as a bill, you’re less likely to spend it on something else.

We’ll see though, right?

How do you manage your money? Share your tips — and flops — in the comments!

*I’m horrible at saving money. Hell, I’ve been living off of my savings account for the last month. Sigh.

Lady Gaga’s newest single and video is “Alejandro.” I’ve loved this song for a while now. Upon hearing the song for the first time when I bought her CD, I took it as being about two things: controlling relationships, and the way some guys treat women (hitting on us when we just want to be left alone). Usually, when I see a Lady Gaga video, it clarifies the song for me. (See “Telephone”; it’s about controlling guys calling over and over and over when you’re out.) The video for “Alejandro”? Just confused me.

I read through some of the comments to see what other people thought. One of them actually talked about the meaning of the video*!

I think this video is a message. It seems very sad to me. That maybe Alejandro was someone she loved that died and his memory keeps calling to her and she can’t leave him behind. She has two choices, she can continue with her life or stay behind with his memory. Shes asking him to set her free from her so she can move on, because while his spirit is still in her heart all the men she makes love to are Alejandro to her.

I think JoannaLaurensings has a good point. It makes a lot more sense than my original theory, and explains the video a lot better. I’d like to think that I’m pretty intuitive and insightful and stuff, but this video stumped me.

This video was hot, though. I’m amused that some commenters thought it was inappropriate; Lady Gaga is not a children’s singer. She’s not Miley Cyrus, Selena Gomez, or the Jonas Brothers. If you are an adult and find sexual content offensive, fine. But don’t ask like an entertainer solely marketed toward adults is crossing the line.

Reading the comments made me roll my eyes. No one is forcing these people to watch her videos or listen to her music. Why does everyone knock what’s different? Again, I agree with Mike that she is like a female Marilyn Manson, and I’ll also say that the reactions to her are similar to those of Madonna’s music twenty years ago.

I’m not saying you have to like her, but open yourself up a little more to what you initially perceive as “different” or “weird.” Check out La Roux; they’re pretty funky and have a kind of 80′s sound, but their song “Bulletproof” will get stuck in your head pretty quickly.

I initially tried to ignore them when I first heard them at FYE a few weeks ago, but Mike said to me, “Be a little more open-minded.” What? Me, close-minded?! He was right; I wasn’t giving them a chance. At all. Now I want their CD.

I don’t like Ke$ha’s stuff, but I heard “Your Love is My Drug” — which, to me, is much better than her other stuff — and it made me want to check her out a little more. She’s not my thing, but I do love this song.

I also can’t get enough of Baroness since I saw them with Mastodon a few months ago, but that’s not really outside of my norm. I love the way they harmonize with each other. Baroness and Mastodon are two of my favorite bands right now.

I want to be the kind of person that will buy a CD because I like one of the songs I’ve heard. I want to consume music, and I want to take that kind of mentality to everything I run across.

Three questions for you: What do you think of Lady Gaga’s new video? (I love how far off-topic I got here.) What do you think of the other songs I posted? What are some of your favorite songs right now? (Post videos here; I’d love to check out your favorites!)

*Most of them were along the lines of, “Gays should be killed,” “You’re dumb for liking Lady Gaga,” “Lady Gaga is Satanic,” “This is inappropriate, waaah,” — uh, duh, her music isn’t for children! — and other lame internet troll-ness.

I have vivid dreams quite frequently, but it’s rare that they are nightmares. Usually they’re just really weird and I laugh about them when I wake up. The bug nightmare I laugh about now, because it’s kind of funny that a big, slimy black centipede oozing blood when I cut its head off scared me that badly. Last night’s nightmare, not so much.

This morning didn’t suck completely, though. As I was coming into the kitchen, I noticed what looked like a DS game on the table under my keys and a little piece of paper. What, did Mike play one of my games? I thought he didn’t like my games? Wait, maybe he used the case to write on that paper? Wait — is that a note?

I picked it up.

My anniversary present!

“He didn’t,” I said. We hadn’t talked about gifts or anything! I was just happy to know the date of our beginning, and hanging out last night was the best gift. Little does he know that I’m taking him out to dinner Sunday or Monday now, because I can’t not do anything for him! Especially since that note was so sweet!

Excuse me while I melt.

Anyway, it’s September. Which means summer is coming to a close, and football is so close. I’m always half and half this time of year; I’m sad to see summer go, but can’t wait to dress for game day and cheer on my Colts.

September also means it’s time for some new goals, and to look back at last month’s goals to see how I did.

My mission last month was to lose some kind of weight and to go to the gym every day. I also wanted to cut down on how much fast food I eat, but not cut it out completely, because I gave in way too quickly when I tried that route. I also apparently set a goal to write every night.

I’ve been going to the gym almost every day. I’ve only been allowing myself to skip out for good reasons. (For example: Monday I didn’t go because I pulled a muscle in my arm last week and wanted to rest it. Yesterday I only went to do the bike for twenty minutes because I was too hungry to stay any longer and didn’t want to end up getting sick. Stupid hypoglycemia. I also haven’t gone the last couple of weekends because I wasn’t in town.) I honestly love the gym and look forward to going. I’m not going tonight because I’m having dinner at Sandy’s house (for my birthday, yay), but will go tomorrow for my usual hour. I also have a session with one of their personal trainers scheduled in about a week.

I lost a little bit of weight! I managed to squeeze myself into my size seven jeans this past Thursday to go to the bar with some friends. I had to do a lot of stretching to get them to feel less skin tight and more like bootcuts, but they fit and I didn’t pass out from suffocation!

I’ve only been eating fast food twice a week! Each week, I write little goals in my notebook, and, “Eat fast food only twice this week,” is always one of them.

I haven’t been writing every night, but I did read two of three of the books about adoption I took out from the library. They’ve given me a lot of insight and I have made some notes of things I need to change in the novel. For example, my main character Gigi needs to feel more guilty about giving away her son. That guilt needs to drive her. She should also feel like she’s got a hole inside of her, and she should try to fill that hole with other things, like relationships that suck. I’m not saying that all birthmothers feel this way, but my Gigi should.

On to this month’s goals!

• Budget income for the next month. Since I don’t have a regular paycheck anymore, I need to be super careful. I just got paid yesterday, in the nick of time; I was scraping up birthday money to buy cigarettes and gas that I’d wanted to use to buy new clothes. I’ve already started to budget, using Britt’s envelope method (minus the safe part).
• Keep going to the gym, at least Monday-Thursday. I want to go every day, but since the gym is on the way home from where I work, it’s more likely that I’ll go on those days than any other day.
• Write two chapters every Saturday. Since I don’t work weekends, I’m more likely to use that time to write; usually, by the time I get home on weeknights, I’m too tired to do much of anything — especially since I haven’t been sleeping too well.

To keep with the theme of this very out of control and unorganized post, I give you some MSI:

We had kind of a rocky start; neither of us knew what we were, but we both enjoyed spending time together. In the last four years, though, we’ve learned more about ourselves and each other and have become best friends.

Sitting around the fire, 08/28/2010

There aren’t really any words to describe us. We have our fights, which sometimes get so bad that one or both of us gets scared we’re at the end. We have our perfectly happy moments, where it seems that it’s just the two of us in the whole world. We have gone on countless road trips, to countless concerts, on random walks in the park, hikes, drives, mini-adventures, and have countless ahead of us. When we’re completely broke or dealing with tragedy, we hold on to each other and ride through the storm. When good things happen, we both sigh with relief. We have each other’s backs, and neither of us are afraid to tell the other when we’re wrong. We say “I love you” every chance we get, and he’s even saying what I always say now: “I love you and wanna marry you and have twenty babies with you.”*

I cannot even convey what we have, because sometimes it’s even too deep for me to understand. It can be complicated, it can be mushy, it can be breezy — but it’s there.

It’s weird to look back and say, “Wow, we’ve really only been together four years?” In reality, four years is a long time for a relationship to last — especially these days. But at the same time, it feels like we’ve always known each other. The bad and the good has shaped us, made us always a part of each other; we’re entwined.

There’s no way to even describe what he means to me, but I appreciate all of the little things about him. I also love that he’s living with me and my parents (even when he wakes me up at 6:30am when he gets home from work to give me a kiss). I adore him and would do anything for him, and he feels the same about me.

I can’t wait to see what the next four years brings.

*Three is probably more realistic.

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After we stuffed ourselves, I opened my presents. I got lots of money, which I plan on putting toward new clothes* and some treats**. I also got a gift card to Victoria’s Secret, which I really needed***.

Nana, Aunt Elyne, and Kate left before it got dark. Noni, Aunt Wendy, Vin, Mike, Mom, Dad, Biz Noni, Aunt Barbara, and I all stayed overnight (Biz Noni and Aunt Barbara’s site is right next to Noni’s). I attempted to make a vodka collins and failed; Smirnoff vodka really sucks unless you’re using it for mixed drinks. (You know, the ones you can barely taste the alcohol in. Sigh.) Mike and I got into a relatively stupid fight (but talked things out the next morning and throughout the next day). Dad built a really big fire, and we all just hung out until we were tired. I also ended up crying like a five-year-old on Aunt Wendy’s shoulder because I really missed Popi, but I still had a good night.

Sitting around the fire, 08/28/2010

The next day, we had a huge breakfast after Dad and Vinny got back from fishing. A bee ended up stealing my pancakes and eating my syrup, so I mostly ate bacon****. Then Dad went to go visit one of his childhood friends who now camps there, too, while the rest of us went down to the water for a swim. The water was a little cool but very refreshing. Mike and I talked some more while I floated around, and things were worked out.

I’m proud of us; we’re learning to communicate better and to recognize when we are overreacting. Everyone — I don’t care who you are — picks stupid fights, and it’s important to talk even when you think you’re overreacting, or when you think the other person is being unfair. I realized years ago that I tend to pick fights for no reason, and have been making a huge effort lately to ask myself, Is this really that important to me? before I open my mouth. (I have a hard time thinking before acting.)

Like a good wine, we just keep getting better and better.

And speaking of, tomorrow is our four year anniversary. When I stop and think about it, four years isn’t really a long period of time — but it is a long time to be with someone, and it also feels like we’ve been together forever. We know each other really well. In some ways, I think we know each other better than we know ourselves, which has helped me learn more about myself. We have come a long way from the uncertain beginning we had.

I just realized that I got way off track here, so I’ll write more about us tomorrow.

Anyway, we spent most of Sunday up at the lake. Aunt Wendy and Vin left shortly before we had an early dinner, and Mom and Dad left just before dark. Mike and I would have left then, too, but he saw the sun setting over the lake and thought it would be romantic to go watch it. Noni had suggested we watch the sunset the night before, saying that she and Popi used to all the time. I think that was when he had his headphones on and I was annoyed with him, so we ended up not going, hahaha. But we did go last night, and it was beautiful. I ended up taking him on the trail to the old root cellar — what we kids always called The Cave. There’s a little shore there with a great view of one side of the lake, and that’s where we sat, talking about the future.

For all of the times we get on each other’s nerves, we have at least ten good “moments” or days.

We left after walking back up to the site and kissing Noni goodnight, trying to beat the sun setting completely. We made it… sort of. We ended up missing the exit to get on the next route, getting off the expressway (which ended right after the exit), getting back on, and jumping on the next route… in the wrong direction. Luckily, we were able to find what we thought might be a shortcut, but naturally we ended up sitting on 84 in Hartford because they decided Sunday while people were driving back from weekend getaways was a good time to do night paving. We just sat there listening to music and laughing at our luck, which if you know me is funny, because I have no patience for traffic. Although, I should add that I did make a few comments, so I’m still me. I think I’m growing as a person, but Mike says he’s just rubbing off on me. (I’M GROWING AS A PERSON, DAMMIT!)

By the time we got back and hit the bank, we were too tired to do anything else. I made us scrambled eggs and toast, and then we went to bed.

Operation Twenty-Two was a success! I had a good time, with good people. And oddly enough, I slept better in the air mattress in the tent Saturday night than I did in my own bed last night. This tells me my mattress sucks.

*As soon as I lose more weight, I’m treating myself to a new wardrobe. A couple of people told me I look like I’ve lost some weight this weekend, and I managed to squeeze myself into my size seven jeans Thursday night before going to the bar with my friend Sean.

**I desperately need some new CDs, and I want to get a pair of boots, and maybe some DVDs (I still need Firefly, and Dollhouse comes out October 12th)!

***GIRLS ONLY post about this coming soon!

****Seriously. The little fucker refused to get off of my plate, and I’m too chicken to swat at bees anyway, so he had an easy victory.

It feels weird, and yet it hasn’t hit me. Mostly, I’m just like, “Ooh, double digits again.” (I’m twenty-two.)

I’m going up to the lake to celebrate, where I feel closest to Popi because he loved it so much.

So far, my birthday presents are: Buffy season two from Lauren, a couple of cards and money, and a pulled — torn? — muscle in my left arm. I can barely move it, hahaha. But still, it’s going to be a good day.

Since most of us are big readers and writers — in the sense that we read a lot of books and write short stories, blogs, and keep plugging away at that novel — I have a technical question for you! It’s been driving me crazy lately, so maybe you can help.

When a character is asking a question, should the pronoun be capitalized? What I mean is, should it look like this:

“What’s for dinner?” She asked.

or this:

“What’s for dinner?” she asked.

I’ve been doing the former* for years**, but both look weird to me. Thoughts?

*See the part where the trainer asks me a question.

**I tried using the latter last night while writing with Mary, but it still looks weird. Help!

Clink.

CLINK.

Today — er, yesterday; it’s after midnight — I got back on track and went to the gym. I hadn’t been since Thursday, so I had to force myself to go, despite feeling nauseous and wanting to just go home, eat dinner, and pass out. I was on the abdominal rotator — torso rotator? twisty thingy? — wondering why it seemed that the weights kept clinking together LOUDLY and I was able to “work” my abs without so much as breaking a sweat when one of the personal trainers came over to me.

“Can I show you something?” She asked.

“Sure,” I said, pretty sure I was doing it wrong anyway.

She adjusted the seat and moved it, demonstrating how I should use it. Instead of starting in the middle, I should be starting on the left or right, she explained, working each side.

“Ah,” I said. “I had no idea how to use this. Thanks!”

“No problem,” she said, smiling kindly and walking back to the young woman she had been working with.

I really like my gym. No one makes me feel stupid, even though I have no idea what I’m doing, and am lucky I can operate the cardio bike and treadmill. Hell, I even tried the situp machine today — the one you lay on, put your feet in the stirrups, and, using the handles next to your head, do a situp — and couldn’t sit up. At all. Then again, I never could — not even in elementary school. I remember the gym teachers yelling at and getting frustrated with me because I just couldn’t. It wasn’t that I didn’t try hard enough. I must have weak ass stomach muscles.

I’ve decided that the torso rotator will be a good precursor; if I can use it for a few weeks and build up some muscle, I’ll be able to actually do situps outside of my bed*.

I weighed myself before heading out of the locker room and I’m kind of disappointed. I’m at an even 138lbs, even though I’ve been eating less fast food and have been trying to go to the gym every day. Still, I ran into someone I haven’t seen in four years today at the gym and she said I looked good, so I’ve got to be doing something right. I guess I should stop obsessing with the number on the scale and just concentrate on turning my cheeseburger/Seroquel baby into a two-pack, eh?

I’m pretty sure that I’m supposed to put my weight in every week for the Super by September challenge, but you know what? I’m not going to worry about the weight (too much) anymore. It’s only going to stress me out. Weighing myself every day and making a sad face next to the number is not going to make me feel any better**. I went so long without caring about that stupid number, yet ever since I gained all this weight I’ve been really insecure about it.

*Yes, I do situps in bed before going to sleep sometimes. Feel free to laugh. I do.

**I feel like such a cliché right now; aren’t 90% of women concerned about their weight?