Abigail M. Schilling

Whenever I get weary with the state of the world, I like to think about Jacob's wedding to Dawson Leery. Wait, I didn't say that nearly as eloquently as he did:

This song [Switchfoot, Dare You To Move] is awesome, though. I have a whole file in my head labeled Leery-Clifton Nuptials, and it's all the songs that will be playing when I meet, woo, date, destroy, rebuild, renovate and eventually marry Dawson Leery. I can't remember if I ever told you about that. I don't tell many people because it's a lot to take in and I realize that, but anyway, this is a major one of those songs. I don't listen to these particular songs, on purpose, very often -- I am not David Cook, I don't know too much about obscure bands like Switchfoot -- but if they come on the radio, that's four minutes of wedding planning in Cape Cod or whatever. Like the Switchfoot song, that is for when I have to decide between Paris and our love. (I eventually choose Paris, but only because Dawson Leery loves me enough to set me free. Thanks, bro.)

Hang on, there is more amazing:

And you might think that this is a file folder which eventually would stop growing, but you would be wrong. I add songs to this mental playlist all the time. Like "Apologize," that's for this one day when it rains and I'm waiting at the bus stop or the airport or something like all day, because he's of an artist's temperament and sometimes loses track of time, but I'm wet and hungry so I throw a massive fit about it, and things get kind of ugly, which is sad because usually we support each other and help each other to make good choices, and although we eventually we make up, I spend the night alone for the first time in months sucking down cheap Cabernet and smoking cigarette after cigarette and tearfully wondering if it is indeed too late to apologize. from the American Idol recaps

Don't you feel so much better?

I get weary a lot because, lately it seems as though every minute I'm constantly giving myself an attitude check. I'm constantly self-talking myself out of bad grooves because some douchebag took the time find a scrap of paper in his car and leave me a mean note and because I had to wait an hour to get to see the doctor on Monday and because I couldn't figure out what line I was supposed to be in at the grocery store and then I picked the wrong one. It seems as though the world has become harsher, that it's not as friendly a place. It wasn't even this bad when the gas prices were high.

The two Es are making this place unbearable and I can't wait til November or 2009, whichever brings relief soonest. In the meantime, Jacob, it's not too late to apologize.