Come sail away, Come sail away, come SAIL away with me-e-e.

This is now my blog where I talk about whatever I want to. What is going on in my life, things I'm thinking about momentarily. I'm going to write it down in a sort of narcissistic 'I'm-important-enough-to-post-my-thoughts-on-the-internet' journal.

I'm working on writing something resembling a love song. It's my first attempt to do so ever in my life. I was thinking about my lover, obviously as I was writing this, and about how we first met when a story came to mind. I felt I needed to recount it to someone because it's a favorite I had almost forgotten about. [note: this story will be of less value to you if you don't already know Felipe].

Once upon a time, I was sitting in my dining room at clear springs apartments with Jessica- my room mate at the time- in the fall of 2006. I was single. Now, there are two things you must know about me as a single lady before I go on. I was incredibly selective about the guys I found romantically interesting, and although I had romantic prospects, I spent the better part of my first 22 years wondering how it could be so damn difficult to find a worthy adversary of the male persuasion. A few had caught my attnetion, but they eventually proved themselves to be; foolish, gratuitously brooding, gay, really stoned, dating someone else...

So there we were at the kitchen table, homework spread about. Or maybe dinner. I don't remember and Jessica says to me, "You know, so-and-so asked about you after you left the other night. He wanted to know if you were single. I told him yes and to get in line." We laughed. She continued, "Guys ask me that sometimes, and I pretty much tell them all the same thing. I know that you wouldn't be interested because they're never your type. In fact, I can't think of anyone that I know whom if they ask I would say anything different."
We both laughed again and I said, "I don't even know what my type would be. I can't even give you direction as to whom you SHOULD say something like 'yea, she's single and you would totally get along'. What IS my type??"
We sat there thinking, and Jessica's wheels in her head are turning. She says, "I think I'd know him if I met him."
"Oh yea?" I inquire.
"Yea. I could describe your perfect man."
I pulled out a paper and pen - because I compulsively make lists. I scribbled a title at the top of the page: "Jessica's Definition of the Perfect Man for Brenna". I dated it "Oct. 9, 2006".

This, ladies and gentlemen, is that prophetic list:

-Earth Conscious
-musician
-emotionally stable
-curly/shaggy hair
-good looking
-can dress - shoes (haha)*
-quick witted
-driven to do something with his life
-has some background or was brought up with Christianity
-Will dress up
-will travel
-doesn't do drugs/drink all the time
but likes to perhaps on occassion ("dabbles in the lesser drugs")

[*What Jessica meant by this was that when I found men attractive I took note of their footwear and sort of rated them by this fashion choice.]


At the time, Felipe was a casual acquaintance whom two of my classmates/new friends Jared and Elia lived with and related anecdotes about in class discussions.

On October 28th, we drank some Jack Daniel's on the hood of my car and kissed each other at a halloween party. He wasn't wearing shoes. Or a costume.