The BIG Move.

July 20, 2009 - Leave a Response

I am 11 days away from moving to Green Bay. How did I get here? How did this happen? Wow.

So I have decided, in order to keep my sanity after my move to Green Bay, I will take to the blog world! I’m a big city girl moving to an eh, mid-city location; and all of this is for a boy, a stinkin’ boy. My plan is update this as often as possible, with all of my obstacles, annoyances, and totally awesome times. I currently have 1 friends in Green Bay who is not associated with my boyfriend. I don’t mind my boyfriends friends but a majority of them are very responsible, mature, well-educated adults. None of those words sum me up, not even ‘adult’. I’ll give it my best shot though, for reals.


A 3 Am update in February

February 25, 2009 - Leave a Response

I’ve taken a long break from this. Some kids were asking me the other day what had happened to my blogging. I just shrugged my shoulders and said something like,” I just don’t want to put Joe out there like this. Our relationship is really good. The reason those other relationships I wrote about never advanced, it was because I aired my dirty laundry out there like it really was everybody’s business.” I suppose there is a difference between talking about our sheets and talking about our facts.

A good friend of mine recently parted ways out of a three year relationship. Months ago we were sitting at a bar, chatting over our grey goose about the directions of our relationships. She giggled when she told me relationships weren’t that much fun after all. I defended Joe and I because I knew this was different. It was only a few weeks after that she screwed someone on an air mattress in my office, ultimately ending her milestone relationship. And ultimately resulting in me hiding the air mattress. She was the last of the many reoccurring rendezvous’ happening on that mattress. Back to the point,  I knew she was looking for an escape, more like an easy exit. It takes a lot of guts to walk away from such big commitments. There was a point where I almost wanted to agree with her idea of relationships being such a drag and drawing your attention from the bigger picture. But here I am, stalking Craigslist for apartments in Green Bay. I can’t even fit in to words how excited I am about the possibility of living with Joe. I never thought that after so many years of running that I’d find such a great place to stop. The other day I was reading through some of my old blogs and just shook my head. I was just so clueless. I guess my friend just needs some more experience. I know for a fact that I’ve had enough.

Anyhow. Other then Joe, I’ve been up to lots of things. I recently did an interview with Greg Gillis aka Girl Talk. That should be posted online soon. It sparked some interest in me to go check him out in St. Augustine for the Harvest Of Hope festival. HoH is aimed to raising money for migrant farm workers – Yes, I realize that one is a little offbeat.  Joe and I are shacking up in some golf resort and I am going to embrace my fear of flying. I have a strong hate for Florida, which could only be due to a boy from some odd years ago. Not to mention, I also end up way too sunburn and hung over then I can appreciate. But here are a few things Florida leaves me excited about:

– Girl Talk. Enough said.

– Sing-along-songs with Lucero.

– Wishing I could skank to Less Then Jake but instead being too worried I’d give myself a couple of black eyes.

– Seeing the following bands for the first time – The National – Whiskey & Co – This Bike Is A Pipe Bomb – The Mountain Goats – The Gaslight Anthem

– Room service.

– Meeting strangers and making them not strangers.

I’ll end this with The Mountain Goats. This song made me laugh after reading the lyrics outloud, particularly this line:

the first time I made coffee for just myself,
I made too much of it. but I drank it all,
just ’cause you hate it when I let things go to waste.


Everything looks better from the inside.

November 12, 2008 - Leave a Response

It’s been a month since I’ve taken to writing on here. It’s 4:30 AM. The news in on mute. My stereo is turned up rather loud for this early hour. I guess I’m going to take the next few minutes to just highlight my life as it is this morning.

Work is looking grim which makes me think too much about the future. I really want to go back to school, but I have some obstacles I need to climb before I can even imagine it being a realistic idea in my life. I know what you are thinking,” What are you waiting for Shenelle? You never wait for anything.” True. True. In my defense though, I don’t even know what I would go back for. I entertained the thought of genetics, but I’m horrible with math and chemistry. I don’t envision me being able to conquer those things. So my 2nd choice is obvious, English. What am I going to do with it when I am done? Sit around my house and pump out a novel between talking to dirty perverts? Hell, that’s what I am doing now minus the 8 AM classes and research papers. The 3rd, 4th, 5th, and so-on choices, they are all intriguing for a second. Maybe I could be a teacher or a cop or a business woman or a broadcaster or hell, maybe I could just be me.

I’m falling deeply in love with Milwaukee. I’m rarely here on the weekends but I miss it terribly when I am gone. I was with Keith last night at a party for a co-worker of his whom was moving to Utah along with her statement of,” I just need to get the fuck out of Milwaukee!” I took a solid look at the army of hipsters surrounding her and thought,” No wonder.” Yeah, I guess I suck because I don’t have an upper arm tattoo or a mullet. Speaking of cities: Green Bay.

I’m there nearly every weekend, which doesn’t bother me. I enjoy staying at Joe’s place more than mine, minus the lack of cable TV, air conditioning, and not having my dog with me 2 days of the week. Joe and I have in fun in Milwaukee, but when it comes down it, it’s too chaotic down here. My roommate has his friends over on the weekend, which is fine with me, but we are up to all hours, chugging, smoking, dancing, and during the whole shabam, poor Joe is crashed out in my bed already. Being in Green Bay brings a calming effect to my life. I feel safe; not that I fear anything in Milwaukee, but everything seems to be put together. In fact, I brought up this vast difference between Green Bay and Milwaukee to a few friends last night.

Let me lay the ground of the situation. I was sitting at the Comet Café, which like I mentioned a couple of paragraphs prior, was vomited on with Milwaukee hipsters. I was squeezed in to a booth with Keith, who is a long time friend of mine, as well as his roommate Jordan and another Jordan, whom I will refer to as “The Guy With Zero Game” (that’s a mouth full, lets just go with Zero). So Jordan comes back to the table carrying 3 PBR’s, all of which were for himself.

Me: {chuckling} I think you need 3 straws so you can just sip them all at once! That would be so rad!

Jordan: Yo Shenelle, I think you need to stick a straw in my penis and suck out the cum.

TIME OUT: I know what your thinking,” What the fuck?”. Right? I agree! But these are my friends, this is the way we talk. It was only a few minutes earlier that I told Keith he could eat my ass out if he didn’t pay for his own shot. All in good humor of course. So everyone at the table laughs.

Me: I gotta tell you guys this. I feel like that all my friends in Milwaukee, they all are webbed from the Windsor days.

REFERENCE – WINDSOR: A not-so-run-of-the-mill party house I had lived in 4 years earlier with Keith. The kind of place where I’m surprised some of my friends only got the Clap.

Zero: That’s because nobody likes you.

Me: Shut up.

TIME OUT: This guy knows me just as good as I know how to change a tire. The only reason he lingers around my friends is because he his roommates with Keith’s recent ex-girlfriend, Amy. Amy is a bitch with a bad haircut or maybe I’m just saying that because she has a massive stink eye towards me. Something about her thinking I’ve wanted to do Keith for years. I guess I could see how she gets that tingly feeling when I make comments to Keith about eating out my ass.

Me: No, really, everyone we are friends with, we met from that damn house. And the people I meet outside of that place, they don’t stay around long.

Keith: {Chuckes} Yeah, you are totally right.

Me: Speaking of which, I just want to point something out to you guys. You guys are so different than Joe’s friends.

Jordan: Who the fuck is Joe?

Me: My boyfriend, you never remember I have a boyfriend.

Jordan: Oh yea, I bet he gets to suck on those mad ass white titties.

The table is laughing. This is how weird we are.

Keith: Are you trying to say we are losers?

Me: No, his friends are just like you guys, but older. They have careers, kids, girlfriends, wives, fiancés, houses, but they still place video games and smoke lots of plants.

Jordan: So you saying they are pussys!

Me: No, they aren’t pussy’s. They are pretty cool guys actually, but so are you guys. However, I can’t envision one of Joe’s friends, like Myers for example, saying to me ‘Yo Shenelle, get a straw and suck the cum out of my penis’.

Jordan: Yeah, cause they are pussy’s.

Me: No seriously dude, they aren’t pussy’s. I have tons of fun around them but non of them talk like that. It’s just weird. I like both sides of the tracks but it would be nice to have some older friends, you know, with their shit together and stuff.

Now they all finally agree with me and luckily enough that was at the same time as some hipster girl fell flat on her back off her bar stool. Within seconds Zero was up and out of the booth, hitting on her. This was comedy of course, especially after he sat down at another booth with her and minutes latere, she not only spilt a beer, she fell on the floor again.

Back to the point, I love my friends but I can’t believe that Joe doesn’t look at them and think worse things than I am sure he already does.

Now, on to the subject of Joe. It’s just about been four months which is landslide for the both of us. I tried to clean my act up and so far it appears I have. In fact, it’s just like second nature now not to be an asshole. This weird thing has taken me over though. It’s been years, if not a near decade since I’ve honestly, truly, genuinely, and all those nice words, missed somebody. I think about Joe a lot and no, not in the scary stalker fashion, but in the,” Holy shit, how did I find someone this cool at a bar?”- fashion.

This weekend we are heading up to Minneapolis to catch The Hold Steady doing back to back shows over the weekend. I’m rather excited to spend 9 hours or so in the car with him, and no, I’m not being sarcastic. I guess I am sounding rather cheesy in this stage because it’s not as if Joe and I lack any sort of inner issues. I still want a key to his apartment, but only because it’s convenient for when I want to stay to come and go when he is at work. Of course, this was derailed when his buddy told him it was a horrible idea. I’ve dropped the issue for the most part, particularly since Christmas is just around the corner.

On the topic of the holidays, I mentioned what his plans were. I know that I’ll probably be busy during them, but I’ve been itching to meet his family. He’s worried I’m going to be scared away after his mom drags out the baby pictures, which is so far from the truth. He’s met a large portion of my family, other than my Father, which is sort of the base of how I became who I am. The only reason he hasn’t met him is because he has been on tour for the most part of Joe and I dating.

However, I know Joe will let me meet his family when he finally feels comfortable about it. But the nice thing about blogging though, is he can read this and not interrupt me. So let me just say this to you Joe, it would be totally radtastic if I could meet your folks, only because I want to see how you became such a cool person. No, really, that’s why. And sine I’m solely talking to you, just give me the M word once. Just once. In fact, I’ve never heard you M anything since I met you; not even your t-shirts I’ve collected from your closet.

So that’s been the last month of my life. I think I’m growing up a bit and I’m defiantly beginning to appreciate Green Bay, Joe, his friends not talking dirty to me, and his t-shirts. Greatly Appreciated.

I wish I could tell you some stories.

October 22, 2008 - Leave a Response

I’m beginning to have some writers block. It’s hard to write sappy stories when everything in your real life is going as according to plan.

Whiskey & Co may possible drink more than me.

October 18, 2008 - Leave a Response

I did an interview the other day with Whiskey & Co, you can read it here:

And listen to them here:

The Best Love Stories Are On The Pages

October 18, 2008 - Leave a Response

It’s Friday night and unlike the rest of my friends, I am staying in tonight and working. For those of who are unfamiliar with what I do, I sell porn; don’t ask any questions.

I managed to score tickets to the Packer game this Sunday, minus the “drunk squad” who joined us for the Falcons game. It’s going to just be Joe and I, which I am totally fine with. I totally padded myself on the shoulder when I found out Joe read my blogs and was able to give me another chance. Not to mention, all my friends are stoked that I can stop talking about it now and finally smile for once.

With that said, I am going to post a bit of fiction I wrote last week. I posted this on my Facebook, so some of you may have already read it, if not, enjoy! I think it’s one of the prettiest little diddies I’ve written in awhile. Like I said, it’s fiction, however, knowing me, there is a line of truth hidden in everything I proclaim to be fiction.

I shared this piece with some friend’s right after I wrote it, and Joe said to me,” You’re not done with it yet, right? This is just a chapter, isn’t it?”. The answer is, no. I don’t like writing long stories. You know when you listening to a song and the whole three minutes spark a feeling in you? Whether it makes you sad, happy, confused, in love, missing, etc? That’s what I want my writing to be. I want it to be three minutes of feelings. Life doesn’t have a beginning or ending, so why should my stories?

Anyhow, enough rambling…Enjoy!


The Best Love Stories Are On The Pages”

We’re standing outside of this dusty, cold hotel.

He’s thinking of things to say to keep me standing here longer than either of us need.

I knew I shouldn’t have picked up his phone calls a few days earlier. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten in my car and drove these 300 hundred some miles. I knew it all.

“I’ve always missed the sound of your voice.” I knew he couldn’t get enough.

In a matter of moments I am going to turn around and drive back home and pretend none of this happened. He’s going to go back home to the belly of the beast and I am going to go back home knowing that I’ve never been happier than with the man I’ve got back there.

Curiosity couldn’t have bitten me any harder this time.

He puts his hands against my cheek. It’ll be the last time he’ll ever touch me; I say this in ways that are too beautiful. I’m walking away with my appetite for apathy being overstuffed.

“You’re going to make me cry. It’s the only emotion I can give you though.” I said that.

He told me one time, in the most honest of forms,” You and me babe, we look a lot better on paper than we could ever look in real life.”

We spent the last day together with strangers asking us if we were ever really in love.

Those strangers, they say the most daring of things,” You two sure do make the cutest of couples.”

If only they knew. I sigh.

I just wanted to get back home. I wanted to dig through my purse, pull out my keys, open my apartment door, and crawl back in to bed next to the real man of my life. I want to run the back of my fingers down his cheeks and tell him that now I know he really is the one for me.

But this guy standing in front of me; he’s standing with so much pose that all I can really care to do is rip my hair out.

I’ve strived so hard to find one guy who could love me for me and now I have one too many.

“I really want to see you again.”

I shake my head from side to side.

He knows he shouldn’t say these sorts of things. I remind him about the paper incident.

“You write stories on paper. Stories can come to life.”

I shake my head some more.

I’m still thinking of pulling my hairs out, one strand at a time, for each affair-like behavior I’ve par taken in, in these last 24 hours.

I don’t know what to say. I think about it too much. “If he doesn’t take me back, we can talk about it.”

Sounds so dumb; so stupid. What the fuck is my problem.

Just get back in your fucking car and drive.

“He’d be stupid not to take your back.”

No, it’s not a matter of his intellectual side. It’s a matter of the circumstances. I say words like that in my defense.

Now all I can think about is him not being there when I come back. A note sitting on the coffee table and a pile of dog shit in the kitchen:

When did business trips become full blown affairs?

I put my face in my hands. I’m in big trouble this time.

“Babe, he won’t find it. It was worth it though.”

Yeah, it was worth it all right. Now all I can think about is getting in a car accident on the interstate and the police phoning up my boyfriend to tell him I died somewhere outside of a city he doesn’t know I’m in. Sort of like how your mom tells you to change your underwear every day, just in case you get in a car accident – yea, this is sort of the same thing.

The paramedics, running scissors up my thighs to cut open my pants. There it is, I’m wearing the ultra-sexy satin panties that I only wear when my real boyfriend gets a big promotion.

Now all I can think about is him receiving my belongings from the morgue and there are those silk panties bundled up with my jewelry. Than at my funeral, during my eulogy he’s going to tell my family,” Just so everyone knows, I didn’t get a big promotion this week.”

What a way to fuck up.

Now this guy, standing in front of me; he’s smiling, touching me, gawking, wishing.

“If only we would have met before I met her.”

Yeah, sure; if only he would of known what he wanted than and if only I would of known what I didn’t want back then.

“You’re so beautiful.”

I nod. I couldn’t deny flattery.

All I can think about is getting back in my car – driving. I could drive to the other side of this country, but I wouldn’t be able to rid myself of this guilt.

Now I’m thinking about just telling the real boyfriend; dial him up on my cell,” Sweetie, there was no business trip. Not unless you count finding out what you want in life a business trip.”

He’d just be confused if I worded it like that. He’d tell me to get to the point, what was the problem, why would I do that, what was I thinking it, was it worth it, why did I drag this out, why would I do this, why, why, why, why!

There isn’t a reason.

But I can give it some justice by over saying the following:

Sometimes, you know exactly what you want in life. I do. I’ve been waking up next to it for the last year or so. I’ve never felt happier than knowing that this individual, this real boyfriend of mine, that he loves it when I smile and hates it when I cry. This real boyfriend, he’s everything. But this man in front of me, with his pose and his broad shoulders, this man, years ago, he could have been the real boyfriend. He could have loved it when I smiled and hated it when I cried. But this man, the pose, the broad shoulders, his blue eyes, we didn’t meet at the right time or in the right place. We can’t change it. We both know it isn’t worth giving up things we know that are working just fondly back in our real homes, outside of this hotel, outside of this foreign city. This man, his pose, his broad shoulders, his blue eyes, his wedding ring, he and I should have just known better.

“Sometimes, we just have to get things out of system. I’m always going to think about you, everyday for that matter. You’ll never not, be a part of me.”

I finally smile a bit. I tell him we should just go home, kiss our current love ones and remind them of why they are the ones for us.

“You are right. We don’t need to drag this out any further.”

He hugs me. I feel him breathing in the scent of my hair. He kisses the top of my head. I clinch on to the sides of his jacket. These are the last few seconds of what could have been. These are the last few seconds of what shouldn’t have been.

As he backs away I take one last look. My big blue eyes, hiding under the stars, they are gazing up to history. I let go of the side of his jacket and walk away. I’m heading for the car, heading home, heading back to the real deal.

I hear this man, his pose, his broad shoulders, his blue eyes, his wedding ring, his appreciation for me,” If you ever miss me, just write about us on some paper.”

And I heard the guitar player say…..Shenelle’s on her way…

October 15, 2008 - Leave a Response

Let’s celebrate.

My blog did it’s job 🙂

Blues are the only cure when you aren’t determined enough.

October 15, 2008 - Leave a Response

Its day 3; still no phone call.

When I woke up Monday morning, I was far worse than just hung over. I slept over 12 hours, trying to prove to myself that as long as I’m sleeping, I don’t have to feel a damn thing. When I woke up, I had over a dozen phone calls from all sorts of people.

The first I called back was Aaron, an old lover of mine, but those kinds of people know you better than anyone else. Although he was in Portland, it felt like he was right next to me,” Shenelle, this is just what happens in relationships; things always fall apart – than people write a song about it – go write a song about it.”

The rest of my afternoon bounced around with phone calls from friends across the street, to friends across the country. My parents even called me and for once acknowledged that I have feelings and right now they were falling apart. My Grandmother reminded me that her and my Grandfather broke up or six months before he realized she was the one. I don’t want to compare Joe to that, but I see the references. My Dad opened up about his past relationships and reminded me that you really can’t change anyone’s mind, as much as you want, but that I just need to walk away with some lessons learned. Who wouldn’t take advice from a man who has been married three times?

Yesterday, Diva and I walked the pier, where I proclaimed all the things I wanted to change in my life now, whether or not Joe is here to watch them. I slumped my shoulders down a bit and said,” I don’t want to go back to being the girl I was before I met him.” We both knew what that really meant.

By late evening, my roommate Jim came home and offered me a drink. He knew I needed to vent and I needed to here a guy’s point of view that mattered. While sitting at the bar, I just kept flapping my mouth with excuses and reasons. Jim suggests a few of his own, pointing out that maybe Joe is beginning to feel too close to me, that maybe he is scared to get attached to someone like me.

Whatever it is, it’s all I thought about yesterday. By the time I got ready to go to bed; I tossed and turned over every detail. I never wanted something so much before. I just want this to be over, the waiting, the regret, the missing.

I don’t know if he is reading any of this, but if he is, I just want him to know that I’ve never wanted to change for anyone, I never wanted to change for Aaron, for Jide, for my parents, for the big man in the sky, but I’d be willing to change for you. I just want another chance, one that I won’t screw up. I’m not as bad as you think I am and I shouldn’t have to tell you that. There was obviously something there and I don’t believe it’s left the building yet. If you can find it in yourself to give me another chance, I’d even make an effort to do the little things. Ya know, like take Duke to obedience school, sign up for an IRA, no more surprises without telling you first, I’ll stop inviting strangers over from the bars that know how to do penis puppet shows, hell, I’ll just stop inviting people over period. I’ll start coming to Green Bay more often and I’ll never talk sour about it again. I’ll make sure to listen to every word you say, I won’t bring up the V word anymore, and I’ll actually listen to a Kings of Leon record. Despite those things, I’ll carry on telling you how much I love it when you don’t shave, I’ll remind you too often that you’re the paramount of my life, and I’ll continuously make sure that I never fuck this up the second time around.

There isn’t much more I can say. But I am really getting sick of listening to sad songs and wishing you were a horrible guy so I could stop crying.

I’ll wrap this up by quoting a conversation Diva and I had in the whole foods parking lot last night:

Me: You know what would make this so much easier?

Diva: What?

Me: That he was an asshole. You know, I just want you guys to tell me,” Dude, you are so much better without him.”

Diva: Yeah, um, that’s not going to happen.

I’d swim for brighter days, despite the absence of the sun.

October 12, 2008 - One Response

It’s been a day since I’ve heard from him and to me that could easily feel like a century.

Our friends never thought we would break up, hell, I was pretty sure this was everything I had been missing out on. So it’s hard to believe that just a few days ago, around four in the morning, you’d fine me crying in his passenger seat, barefoot, but still in my little black dress.

“You are the worst kind of person! I can’t imagine going any further with you!” he shouts.

My hands are full of tears.

We hadn’t been dating long, but for the two of us, this could have been the rest of our lives. We had met at a Hold Steady concert only three months earlier, introduced by a mutual friend who never thought twice. I remember dancing around the show and as he put it,” You parked yourself in front of me, and you never left.”

“Your tears don’t mean anything to me! You can cry all you want. You deserve every bit of this!” More shouting.

More tears in my hands.

Although we have 120 miles between the two of us, we made it work. I bitched about Green Bay and swore it could never be as great as Milwaukee. But as time went by, it became clear to me that Joe could have lived in a tent, in the forest, without any sort of air conditioning, and it would have been just as great, because it would have been with him. As our relationship progressed, I spent some time lounging on my bedroom floor wondering if I was prepared to raise the flag on Milwaukee. For all of my relationship-pro friends, they tell me this is the sort of stuff you do when you get these sort of feelings, “Shenelle, this is the real deal, you got to make sacrifices. We’ll miss you though.” I was all about those sacrifices. I gave up my weekends, to spend them with him, without any complaints though. I gave up those boys at those bars and my 6 am drinking habits. This could of possibly been the first time in my life that I was honestly beginning to grow up.

“You’re never going to find another guy like me! I just want you to know that! You will never see me again!” He’s trying so hard to drill this in my skull.

My head is now buried between my hands; my hair is my face, my mascara on my cheeks.

He wasn’t like any of the other guys I had managed to scrape off of bar room floors. He was logical and witty. He was funny and smart. He proved to me that it was okay to be twenty-nine, addicted to video games, and have a quench for the weeds you can’t find in your back yard. It was a predicament of what was to come with all my friends when they hit their late twenties. It was okay to be a dude, and to still get your bills paid on time. He could have easily been my Dan Connor.

“Just get out of my car. We’re done. I’ve got nothing more to say to you!”

I didn’t want to budge. I didn’t really want this to be the last time I saw him.

Whatever led up to him storming out of my house after four in the morning, it appeared to have been in the making. One of the first times we had dinner together I warned him,” Most guys think I am a tornado. You just want to look but you really don’t want me to come in to your life, I’ll destroy it.” He just smiled; maybe that was what he needed after all. It was no lie that Joe and I were both two blind people going in to this relationship. Neither of us had ever had anything that lasted. I tried my hardest to domesticate myself. I don’t want to point any fingers, but I was nurtured in a family that didn’t have rules or feelings. I was just a kid, it was expected that I’d try out drugs, take part in pre-marital sex, and get arrested. It was wastes of breath to for warn me of all the things I was destined to do. With that said, you can’t just expect me to throw on an apron and have a new attitude.

Joe doesn’t think I care about him, but in reality, the last kind of emotion I could ever have towards him is no emotion at all. I was beginning to take pleasure in the word “us”. This was the first time in my life that I was ecstatic over structure. Regardless of all of this, he wants me to change. He wants me to put down the bottle and start waking up at times when I am usually just passing out. But for Joe, I’d do it.

“Get the fuck out of my car!” I finally unlock the passenger door, and crawl out. My feet hit the bare grass, which by now, is becoming wet from the dew. I walk up the block, towards my house, where all my friends are waiting for my arrival. Everyone begins to hug me and tell me that I’m going to be okay, everything will fine, he’s going to come back, he cares to much, etc.

I’m fighting off the temptation to call him. He said he needed space and with that, I’m willing to buy him the first ticket to the moon if that helps him find what he needs to find, to understand that I’m not ready for this to be the end of us.