I haven't written in a while and I fear, for my most devoted readers, no excuse will suffice. I have, I know, severly weakened if not eliminated the intelligent life force behind internet blogging. But never fear, gentle reader. Super Footwear Girl is here.

You may be alarmed, shocked, surprised, or indifferent to the mention of my alias "Super Footwear Girl," and so I must explain. Upon returning from my last trip to Mr. Awesomness' house where I spent an indeterminable amount of time sulking over my impending destitution and jobless esate and the grief my mother has been supplying in regards to my much desired matrimonial bliss, I have come to a conclusion. That there is no time like the present for us to be married. In order to elope with my sweet heart and begin "Happily Ever After," I must first settle some debts here and, most importantly get enough gas to traverse the long way back to him.

Having no job, I wandered aimlessly in my mind, debating on how much a yard sale including all of my fineries would sum up. About nothing was the conclusion. My lifetime of collecting has given me many sentiments that are of no value to anyone but me. So what was I to do? Where to turn? To Famous, of course. Good old reliable Brown Shoe Company. Now I am currently back at my home stead (no, now mind you, not the closest store to me, they had no hours to give me.) I am re-employed with the store in the ghetto. 37 miles away from my house. Where I work 54 hours a week and can expect a pay check that will cover my gas mileage and if I am lucky, the expense of some ramen noodles.

Ahh, to be poor an in love. It would be tolerable were he but here to comfort my weary mind. But, as it is, it's just me and God hanging out. My mother has all but declared me the stupidest woman alive, my father is in the midst of dying and my brothers have never really noticed me anyways. I am sadly to busy for most of my friends and as for going to church, well, it's either go to work and earn $6.19 dollars for that hour or sit and be miserable for the want of Mr. Awesomness to hear the sermon and be at my side to discuss it later. Or to listen to me discuss it.

I cry about him not being here and I wish I had him to dry my tears. I now know what they mean by the phrase, "Don't marry the one you can live with, Marry the one you can't live without"

Off to find more sources of income so that I can go home...

Love took me by the hand
Love took me by surprise
Love led me to you
And love opened up my eyes

And I was drifting away
like a drop in the ocean
And now I realize that
nothing has been as beautiful
As when I saw heaven's skies
In your eyes

And every time I drift away
I lose myself in you
And now I see I can be me
In everything I do

'Cause I was feeling as small
as a drop in the ocean
And now I realize that
nothing has been as beautiful
As when I saw heaven's skies
In your eyes

So i got to thinking today... thinking about him. Thinking about what i'm really doing. Thinking about marriage. Thinking about love. Thinking about forever. i can remember the night that he told of how he felt. How we were on the phone but i could feel him leaning into whisper in my far the best news he had heard all day. 'i never thought i would feel this way... I am liking you more and more.' And that was all it took. In that moment i knew. I knew i had better be sure of this. I knew that once he had his mind set on me he would have nothing less. And here i am, preparing for the rest of my life. I never thought i would be so in love...

Creationism takes form and I am lost inside your world
One glance, two eyes, a hand, a hip, two lips
The world melts into you
To the left of center I find what my dreams have hidden
Your voice, my laughter, honesty becomes me and I am naked
Standing before you with nothing left and everything to give
You whisper, I move closer, we hear a tune played in the stars
A tune that floats and flies and sits inside your lips
Playing out over my heart,
Pouring out in smooth gleaming current
Coursing, flowing, pumping through my veins
A real love, soft and sweet and loud and vibrant
You race through my inner most parts
Discovering, uncovering, recovering the furthest pieces of me
From your eyes and hands a sweetness skips and drips
Upon me lands a dew of love
And I am undone.

RETROACTIVE POST WARNING:

This post was intended to appear November 20th and due to my ditziness it did not. Here it is though. Freedom and wheat...


Hey guys.

I know I have been extremely delinqunet in my blog writing lately, and so today I have set aside an hour, dedicate solely to providing you with good quality tit-for-tat blogmania.

The reason I have been unable to provide you with any digerstable reading can be directly blamed on my present ADD. With this new job and the whole crazy way I have been trying to live on like 3 hours of sleep a night, I haven't been able to focus on one thing for more than 22 seconds. And everything is the worse for it. Just ask my roomate. Poor thing, I am thoroughly surprised she has not had me arrested for the dirty dishes I have not cleaned in the past three weeks. It really is a criminal amount.

So the latest saga... The birthday. The boys. The kisses.

Yesterday was my birthday and instead of praying for someone to throw me a surprise party, or hoping my parents would remember or sulking in the misery that was the birthday blues, I decided that there are far too many people in this month that deserve a good party. Namely my roomate, Ms. Tattoo, two of "The Boys" and Ms. News. In order to keep my sanity and enjoy my birthday for once, I made a party for all of us. We had a luau theme at my roomates parents house, a chinese gift exchange and a couple of dips in the hot tub, all of which made for a really nice party.

"The boys" came into town, complete with their swim trunks just for little old me and let me tell you, I did not recieve a better present, nor could I have designed one, than to have the four of them on my doorstep. I dont' know what it is about them, but having only met them twice i can honestly say that I love them to pieces. I don't know why or how or whatfor or wherefore, but I do.

I suppose they should all have names here so that I could provide proper descriptions of them and so that I could enumerate the reasons that I love them. But it would be a feat. They could be "Boy 1" Ect., but that is hardly fitting for men I wouldn't mind marrying. The easiest thing would be to have them named "Mr. First initial here,"... If they weren't 2 and 2 of the same first initial. I would love to break my own rule and use first names, only because remebering the first names of four absolutely gorgeous men that would make any girl drool her coherency right out of her face is a feat to be proud of... But I just simply cannot do such a thing to myself or to my little buddies. Thats would just be un hott...

Oh well, untill I can think of a system, I suppose I should move onto the kisses; I know you are all awaiting this one with baited breath...

So The Boys walk up to the party house and they come in and we do the huggy huggy how are you I'm fine you smell good intro. And they hand me a bunch of b-e-a-utiful flowers which my easily distracted butt left at my roommate's parents house, and an extraordinarily large glass jar full of Hershey kisses. Well the night goes on and the hershey jar ends up as a gift in the gift exchange and i had to fight tooth and nail, scheming with the eldest to keep it.

And then there was one of those moments. One of those moments where all you can think is "Man, I need to marry/ make out with this kid right here, right now or I am going to explode." And I did. Explode that is. I don't know what to do, I am such a mess. I am sooooo in something with one of them and there's really nothing I can do about it, because at this rate, he'll just be learning how to spell my first name by the time I am picking out a wedding gown. SOMETIMES I HATE BEING ME. I do this everytime. I set my heart on someone/something/some situation that is so improabable it's sick and then, OUT OF NOWHERE, I get dissapointed. You'd think I would learn by now. Thats not too likely though...

Well I have officially spent an hour typing this and I have provided you with 15 minutes of somewhat stimulating material. I feel like I should offer shirts for entries like this one... Shirts that say "I read Luly's blog and all I got was this stinking shirt..."

The big girl job is no more.

I knew this day would come, I just didn't expect it to be so explosive. The woman I worked for was, to say the least, particular. Demanding. Frustrating. Wound Tightly. Annoying. Childish. Unfair. Inhumane...I suppose that actualy says a lot. All of which is true, but none of which is fair. She is a fellow christian and in that respect I should just say that she was "flawed" and leave it at that. But today I was called a liar, a thief, and a sabotuer for something I had no control over. So I am a little testy.

I have been called a lot in my short time here. But a theif? A Sabotuer? These things I am not capable of.

A little white lie here and there, sure... "Super Footwear Girl, did you drink the last of the whole Milk?" "No...."

A little thiever here and there maybe..." Super Footwear Girl, did you eat the Keebler cookies?" "Yes, I did...I know they weren't mine but they just looked so buttery and rich..."

But there is no way to name my character by these small and ultimately inconsequencial oversights of common sense and good judgement. You could not impound my life for the amount of theft of buttery, rich, chocolate-cream filled wafers.

I am not intelligent enough to think up ways to ruin any business because I do not think that way. I don't know how to. The best revenge tactic I have under my belt is post-it noting someone's car, and I have too big a concsience to even do that.

So I had to quit. And no, I don't think it makes me look guilty. If I were guilty of what she was accusing, I would have walked out when I preformed the task instead of waiting around to hear the fallout. If I were smart enough to pull it off and hang around I would have been smart enough to differ the blame. But I am not a criminal mastermind.

I am not a liar.
I am not a thief.
I am not a sabotuer.

I'm just a ditzy girl who tries her hardest and gets herself stuck in the most awkward positions...

(Get you minds out of the gutter...)

I wish I could record every moment of my extended weekend with him and herein entail every plan we've made, but it would be impossible. My brain has logged every sigh and every glance and every touch so accurately, that to write them here would take down the system. It would overload it with words and clips of phrases and descriptive events and monumental sightings so much so that all the blogs in the world would be filled up with my sappy, sweet, over flowing, blissful verbal description of heaven on earth.

Between his beautiful house, the low rolling hills of Northern Pennsylvania, and the quant tiny town that he loves so much, I can't even give you a good picture of life with him. It's just too much. It's just everything.

He's just everything.

Le sexe est de consistance généralement plus tendre que le reste du corps. Il est plus sensible
et très sujet au chatouillement.
C’est bientôt l’été. Le ciel est pâle et brumeux. Il est allongé sur le dos, jambes écartées,
les mains sous la nuque, dans la prairie en fleurs au bord de l’étang.
Le sexe est le point où les humains ressemblent le plus aux animaux.

Now that that is out of my system (yea right if you believe that...)

There is something to be said for falling in love. Or for being in love.

Obviously there is something to be said for it or else people wouldn't want it so badly, there wouldn't be so many silly love songs, and french wouldn't exist, but hey, I just thought I would remind everyone just this once...

So Mr. Awesomeness and I were talking, like we do, for about 5 hours two nights ago about everything and anything and the conversation of fading memories come up. No, I shall set the scene for those of you that are not familiar with this plot line, or for those of you that feel as closely as I do to all of this and it feels like forever has gone by, but I only just met the Brotehrs in September. I have seen them maybe less than a half a dozen times in my life and I am still completely in love with them. But, having only 5 or 6 nights of fun and frolicking with the four of them, I don't have a wealth of memories, just a few choice ones. Not that I have forgotten them completely, but remembering their exact features and dimensions is becoming an increasingly challenging obstacle. He noted the same thing, even though I sent him a b-e-a utiful senior picture. This morning , at around 2 am, I get this continuation to the conversation:

Text message from Mr.Awesomeness: "Hey I finally got that picture open... Wow."
Me: "Oh Yeah?"
Mr. A: "Not that i forgot what you looked like but... wow.... You're gorgeous... My Princess..."

Now I would like to take a moment right here to talk about pet names. While under normal circumstances I hate pet names and anyone calling my "princess" is probably being really petty or obnoxious, it was truly a moment just reading it from him. I dont' know what it is about this kid, but waking up from a nightmare, more than half asleep in my brothers bed, reding that message... I have never felt so... I don't even have a word for it... flattered? Special? Set-apart? Complemented? At any rate, it woke me up well enough. I don't know if he knows how many feelings little wordslike that can evoke... I'm not sure that I even fully understand it... but they do and they did and I am... Something.

So a few hundred text messages and some audio phone issues later we decided to cal it a night. Not out of necessity, mind you. Not becausewe didn't have a million thought provoking things to say. Not because we couldn't have spent 5 hours talking eachother into christmas morning...



I'll finish later, right now I have visions of sugarplums dancing in my head.... if you'll believe that...

I love this feeling. I love staying up until 2 in the morning, talking to him about nothing. I love sighing to fill the sleepy silence in that moment when both of us start to forget that we're on the phone and start imagining that we're right next to eachother. I love the feeling of falling into deep conversation about nothing and everything all at once. I love the way that I can hear in his voice when he winks and when he smiles and when he sighs to fill that moment where he really thinks about how I make him feel.





He might be l'un en dans un millon et digne de mon amour.

...about the way I want to live my life.

I was talking with my mom the other night about Mr.L and why we had to break up and the conversation went something like this:

Super Footwear Girl: Mom I had to break up with Mr.L

Mom: Why, what did you do?

SFG: Nohting mom, we just had a dissagreement and it's just not working

Mom: But why can't you work it out? He's so cute and he seems like a grat guy...

SFG: He is gorgeous and he is a great guy... He's just not for me...

(slight pause, an incredulous look from my mom)

Mom: What do you mean?

SFG: Haven't you ever been with someone you like but you know isn't 'The One?'

(another pause and a truly new expression comes across her face)

Mom: No, I never thought about it like that...


I don't want to waste my time anymore. I don't want to get stuck with someone I feel lukewarm about. I am worth more than that. I am worth the adoration I give to the men that I love. I am worth more than a faint caring. A pssive "go if you want, stay if you must" attitude. I am worth deep, committed, lasting, serious, everything at once love. I am worthy of an attentive and interested friend, lover, mate and partner. Who wants to be "tollerated" in a relationship?

Not this Superhero.

Now that the rant is over, I might actually indeavor to provide my patient readers with a good story. A story about a boy whom I might love.

The Eldest, who needs a name before I start, has racked up more phone time with me than any man alive and, to my complete surprise, he seems to enjoy every minute of it. Mr...Awesomeness is, as we speek, attempting to find ways to earn money with which to visit me. He wants to come visit me. He wants to call me up to talk about nothing and end up on the phone for 5 hours. He wants to play open ended games of 20 questions just to get to know me and he wants to cuddle and he wants to be near me. He wants to make a good impression on my mom and he wants to be my friend.

Then again, don't they all for the first week.

But I think this one really might work. He's smart and strong and capable and he sees right through me and he hears every silent sigh and catches every smile and keeps them for himself. Where he keeps them or if I'll ever get them back, I don't know.

I do know that I have found a new respect for Shakira..."Lucky you were born that far away so We could both make fun of distance Lucky that I love a foreign land for The lucky fact of your existence." While he doesn't live in Behruit, he's certainly not the boy-next-door.

Well... I have to get some sleep tonght... as if it's possible with him running around my brain all night

When one door closes...

Ok I know this will push me past flighty and straight on into psuedo-slut (for lack of a better word, trust me I tried...) but there's someone new.

Not new, necessarily. Just new to me.

No, not new to me. Just new to the realm of possible dating options.

So I have some back story that I just relaized I forgot to give you...

The week of my birthday, The Boys came into town to celebrate. We had an "All November Babies" blowout, with 6 birthdays and about 9 guests. The boys, Night owl, my roomate, Mr. Heartbreaker, Mr. Movie and myself all hunkered down at my roomate's 'rent's shack and utilized their hot tub for some maximum party pleasure. NO, think about that another way. If you know ANYTHING baout me, you know it wasn't quite a scene from the "Real World," but it did include a rousing game of 20 questions in which I can say I learned just enough about all the boys to more specifically direct my intentions and attentions.

Long story short, the night they left I cried my happy little eyes out. I can't really explain it now, but at the time I had no other reaction. It's surreal how quickly I feel like they are my oldest and dearest friends, but I do and I did.

So about a week later, the Eldest calls me up "just to shoot the breeze." (who would need a better reason?) He said something that caught my ear. Something along the lines of "I like you." Ironically enough, he was the reason I was crying the night they left. I could tell when they were here by the way his eyes lingered on me, the way he questioned me, the way he let me smile at him without turning away with shy embarrassment or complete indifference that there was something more than being my friend. Something more than thinking I was a nice enough girl.

Now of course though comes the dilemma. The conflict. The thing that makes my life a sitcom. The physical distance between us, this thing with the Phenomenal Mr.L which, while I am ending, will certainly leave me a little scarred, and the fact that try as I may, I can't figure him out. I can't crack him compltely. I'm picking up what he's throwing down, but I think he's only giving me half a story. Or I'm missing everyother card. For everytime he's intimated that he cares for me, he restrains my level of returning affections. For everytime he leans in a whispers sweet nothings, he pulls away from my mouth. (Proverbially speaking... talking on the phone makes this visual work a little differently.)

But I guess this is old news for me. The good old "How much will they tolerate my affection?" Game.

I don't know how I feel about that, but I certainly know how I feel about him.

Good, in case you were wondering...

Brokenheartsville is a lonely place, it's true.

But is not being broken hearted worth being with the wrong person?

In my first "big girl relationship" which lasted a total of 4 and a half whole weeks, including the "talking" stage, I have learned more about myself and the world than I ever thought I needed to know. I'll admit, up until now I have been painfully naive to how the real world and the relationships we encounter herein work. I thought that people met and either fell in love or didn't. I thought that people were either attracted to one another or weren't. I believed that there was some rhyme and some reason to how people seek eachother out and who makes the cut in each persons personal in crowd. I have discovered that there are so many more grey areas than I could have ever expected.

For instance, you can WANT to have sex with someone without being attracted to them. You can WANT to be with someone even though they have nothing you are looking for in a mate. You can LIKE someone with a twisted mix of sexual tension and sweet naive romantic desires without ever seeing them as someone you could LOVE.

I just never knew it was this complicated. I mean, I am the biggest advocate of complex thoughts and feelings that I know, but this... this is so much bigger than me. This level of confusion is so beyond what I have the capacity to even allow, let's not even assume that I could try to understand it. Becoming a nun would have solved all of these problems. Never feeling his kiss or listening to the soft sweet dreams he had to tell me could have saved my precious naivete.

But I suppose what is done is done. I can't get that ignorance back...

For Shame.

Tonights rant is about speech and when to utilize that portion of your brain's capacity.

It is never okay to talk to someone during a vulnerable and hectic moment in their life about their weight, their height or their make-up in a negative manner.

No one wants to here, in the middle of a kiss, "God, you could so stand to lose these love handles. I don't really love handling them..."

No one cares, in the middle of crying about how horrible their boss is, that you think they might want to invest in waterproof mascara to avoid unsightly under-eye darkening.

Just a friendly reminder from your neighborhood superhero...

So let's talk about not awakening love until the time is right...

If someone can't tell you that they love you, you shouldn't have sex with them.
If you're not attracted to someone, you shouldn't have sex with them.
If someone wants to wait until they are married to have sex or any type of sexual contact, you shouldn't have sex or sexual contact with them.

It just hurts so bad...

i know I haven't had much to say in a while but I am terrified of my blogspot.

I am terrified that whatever I say here is up for any kind of interpretation and I am terrified that anyone can pull it up at any moment and quote me on it. I think someone forgot to read me my miranda rights when i got hauled to court for the contents herein. but so goes my life.

I have found myself in an interesting predicament as of late. I am terrified of everyone.

I am terrified that my boss isn't satisfied with my work and I have lost all initiative concerning such because of my fear.

I am terrified of talking to anyone in my church because God forbid they see something in me that's off white. I am terrified they will see that I am a normal, flawed individual and that they will insist that I need "help."

I am beyond terrified of the Phenomenal Mr. L. TERRIFIED. He's gorgeous and older and more experienced and passionate and suddenly I don't hold any cards and he sees right through me and strips me down to my naked naivete without a second thought as to my modesty and awkwardness. I feel like such an idiot everytime I see him-- like I can't remember how to start a conversation-- believe me, the irony is so not lost on me...

I am just scared that every little thing I say here or anywhere will mean anything or everything or nothing and I'll have nothing left after everyone rapes me of my soul's essentials.

Can you see the dilemma du jour?

Oh jeez.

Mr. L.

Mr. L and his tiny dogs have kept me out late every night for a week solid. Actually, I feel like this thing…. this “relationship” has lasted forever already, but he kindly wished me a “Happy one-week Anniversary” last night. Now don’t get me wrong. Not forever in the sense that dental procedures or “Wuthering Heights” last forever. I mean like twilight sleep, Midsummer Nights Dream forever. I mean like classically, romantically, insanely, softly, sweetly, erratically forever. Not painfully, unfortunately, harmfully, tediously forever.

That makes about as much sense as I feel I make these days. He is just so...phenomenal. He insisted that if I use anything to describe him, in order to keep his reputation intact, it must be the word “phenomenal.” I am having such a hard time recalling anything that has not fallen past his lips in the past week, so phenomenal it is. I can’t place what it is about him and I can’t think of a name for the way I feel and I am pretty sure that I have no idea how he feels or if his feelings even matter, but I know I would rather be with him then, oh I don’t know, get some work done at the office or catch some zzz’s here and there.

Last night we talked about what we want for christmas. To be honest and I hope no one will fault me for the sappiness factor of the next couple of words but I have what I want. All I've ever wanted for christmas is someone who genuinely enjoys my attentions and affections as much as I do theirs and I think I finally found it. Or it found me. Or the magical kismet of how we met found us. I don't know. Two people, completely unrelated, having no other possible connection and just finding eachother...

Ok, I fault MYSELF for being that sappy...

I'm at work so i can't talk long I just had to say somrthing- ANYTHING- about Mr. L before I explode, or implode, or upload, or unload, or forbode.

Mr. L is the newest character on L- TV in a long while. Completely unrelated to any other lifeline as yet mentioned in this here blogspot wonder, Mr. L is Mr. Amazing. I met him.... well I won't tell you how I met him. He's... a little bit older than I am and the only reason I even approached him was because he is b-e-a-utiful and I thought "eh, This kid will never talk to me... no harm in telling him he's hott."

And then he talked to me. And it's been all dowhill from there. Downhill as in I am on a roller coaster heading down the biggest, most climactic, most exhilirating, craziest jump of my life... and loving every second of it.

I have to say, we have this much in common---> * But he's gorgeous and funny and he talks to me and he's just... amazing....

Well so much for that five minutes break. Catch you all later.

Apparently i have decided that I am an android and i shall never need sleep again...

Last week i was swamped- between Footwear, cupcakes, cookies, and Big Girl duties, I slept LITERALLY 20 hours all week. THIS week, my happy butt thought it would be a great idea to take on 27 catering jobs, start another business, be a Big Girl and try to marry one of The Boys. Saturday night and last night i rolled in at 2 in the morning, like I HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO AT 2 IN THE MORNING. "That peace that sleep begets" hath not touched my soul in almost a month and I am feelin it lemme tell you. I keep telling myself to just push through one more frantic night of baking, flirting or planning and then I'll take a break, but do I?

No. That would be SANE.

Off to do more work. Writing this blog entry just robbedme of 3 and a half minutes of sleep.

Whatever happened to the Voicebox?

The newest love of my life and I are listening to Bon Jovi, and I sit here, pondering...

Whatever happened to the voicebox? You know that generic WEE--OOOW-OOOWA that Richie Sambora in Bon Jovi would do by singing into a "box" attached to his mic? What ever happened to that technology? That IS what made Bon Jovi awesome and now.... nothing. Noone else has realized the gold theat is the Bon Jovi WEEE-OOWW and I want to know why....

The new love of my life by the way is my iPod. It's not just any iPod, mind you. It is a video iPod. Or what I would like to call, "The High king of all iPodium."

That last statement was proof positive that I am in need of some major zzz's.

TWO DAYS TILL NINETEEN EATS ME!!!
AHHHH

The best kid ever: Adhesives Research

ME: like post-it notes

TBKE: ...no

TBKE: but close

TBKE: and when I say close I mean not even close

ME: ok... so what do you do

TBKE: I'll be a chemical mixer

ME: mixing the stuff that goes on the back of post-it notes?

TBKE: Yeah

Me: Really?

TBKE: NO!