Where does the good go

Archive for January, 2012

Oscar nominations are in…

Tuesday, January 24th, 2012 by Dawn Summers

They are all predictably TERRIBLE!

Here is my movie post about two of the movies nominated on this list: Tree of Life and Bridesmaids

Tim Thomas is a dickweed

Tuesday, January 24th, 2012 by Dawn Summers

Stanley cup winning goalie snubs President Obama.

When I read this story yesterday, I was immediately furious. I couldn’t quite articulate why, but I think this line in the article NAILS it.

The President didn’t invite Tim Thomas, American citizen and apparent douchebag, to the White House. He invited the Stanley Cup winning Boston Bruins to the White House. Tim Thomas should have shut his stupid beardface piehole, accepted the invitation, stood with his teammates and shook the hand of the President of the United States. That he did not is disgraceful. And he should be deported… to where? I dunno… I haven’t worked all that out yet, I’m still mad.

My one comforting thought is that I KNOW President Obama does not know who the FUCK Tim Thomas is. In fact, I’m kinda pissed off at @astinto and @vinnay for the fact that I do! *Men In Black flashy thingy*

…when the president of the United States invites you and all your teammates to the White House to honor your Stanley Cup championship, you go and represent the team.

On Monday, Thomas instead chose to represent himself.

The reigning Vezina and Conn Smythe winner skipped the White House ceremony, deciding to use a special moment for the organization, the team and its fans to voice his displeasure with the U.S. government.

Thomas posted a message on his Facebook page on Monday night explaining his decision.

“I believe the Federal government has grown out of control, threatening the Rights, Liberties, and Property of the People,” the message read. “This is being done at the Executive, Legislative, and Judicial level. This is in direct opposition to the Constitution and the Founding Fathers vision for the Federal government.

Internal dialogue

Tuesday, January 24th, 2012 by Dawn Summers

I think normal people have internal monologues.

I love that I thought I would cry for a few days, write something thoughtful and reasonable and that would be the end of it. I threw myself on the floor and threw a tantrum for a week and a half when I blew out the tires on my car. Granted, my car was only seven months old, I had, at the last minute, declined tire coverage, AND I BLEW TWO IN ONE DAY ON THE SAME STUPID POTHOLE!!! ARRRGGHHHH!!! Wait, where was I? Oh, right. So… eight days later, I’m still not anywhere near over it.

I sit around thinking that I’m such a terrible person, followed by thinking no I’m not, he is! Was.

Though, I’m having increasingly strange — probably inappropriate thoughts about it now — like… so… does the salutatorian become the valedictorian in the event the valedictorian dies at 34? Um…asking for a friend.

I’ve also convinced myself that I have psychic powers. That whole doomswitch winter of 2010, I knew something terrible was wrong. I thought it was endless stream of bad beats I was suffering in my nascent poker pro career or the whole cancer scare, but I had clearly tapped into something greater. So, now I’m trying to figure out how to get a job as psychic to some low level CW star… Like leighton meester.

Oh, yeah and my football team is going to be playing in a little thing called the Superbowl. I can’t really say anymore right now (spit spit fingers crossed throws salt over both shoulders) but the journey so far as been so unlikely… I’m just closing my eyes real tight and believing as hard as my can. :). (I may or may not have booed Father Robert on Sunday, when he said “Mass has ended, go in peace and Go Giants.”

(Even funnier, for the last few weeks I’ve been sharing a pew with a teenage boy in a Manning jersey. (I’ve been wearing my Patriots’ sweatshirt every week lately.) The first week, the Riots were on bye, so when we had to shake hands during mass, no biggie. The following week, the Riots had already won, and the Giants still had to play Green Bay, so I smiled at him when I shook his hand. However, LAST WEEK, there was this palpable tension in our handshake, like we KNEW!

I’ve been giggling thinking about mass on the fifth – the super day, for those of you not in the know!

Taylor Tuesday!

Tuesday, January 24th, 2012 by Dawn Summers

If you and I are a story
That never gets told
If what you are is a daydream
I’ll never get to hold, at least you’ll know

You’re beautiful, every little piece, love
Don’t you know, you’re really gonna be someone
Ask anyone

And when you find everything you looked for
I hope your life leads you back to my front door
Oh, but if it don’t

Will you stay beautiful
A beautiful, beautiful
A beautiful, beautiful?

Oh, but if it don’t
Stay beautiful

Not so random thought

Monday, January 23rd, 2012 by Dawn Summers

I had been wondering when they were going to schedule that Superbowl between the New England Patriots and the New Jersey Giants. Seems like I’ve been waiting FOREVER!

Doctor… is that you?

Friday, January 20th, 2012 by Dawn Summers

Man survives dueling heart attacks in *both* hearts.

Have a good weekend

Friday, January 20th, 2012 by Dawn Summers

Nobody die.

i made some big mistakes
i can’t take back yesterday
but its too hard to live this way
when your heart is a million miles away

Headline on

Thursday, January 19th, 2012 by Dawn Summers

Taylor Swift goes on date with Zac Efron. BUT THIS IS THE STORY!

Why are they trying to kill me?!

My weekend of insane thinking (AND TAYLOR TUESDAY)

Tuesday, January 17th, 2012 by Dawn Summers

A few days before the new year, @Batesline tweeted “@jimmiebjr There’s an apt quote from @realdawnsummers : “I was there when we became friends, where was I when we became strangers?”

I smiled because, well, I’m shamelessly vain and love being quoted! Coupled with the fact that line was from a post I published in 2004, so I was quoted AND remembered! Double bonus points! Well, of course, that post was written about “Don”. (I’ve decided I don’t want this post gooleable.)

As I thought about what I wanted to say, I kept going further and further back, “oh wait, I forgot…no, actually, what happened was…okay, well, first…” Somehow when I was at the part where I was thirteen walking down the stairs from… I knew I had completely lost my way with this.

I came across the news of his death in the most random way. I was finally clearing out the junk from my guest bedroom and there was a handwritten card with the return address of a teacher from my high school. I knew she had been diagnosed with skin cancer some years back and I feared it was an invitation to a memorial or something for her. I knew the mail was years old, so I was like I should just toss it.


I tore it open, and just like in those movies where war widows get a telegram from the army, as I read the words “I just heard the news about Don. I’m so sorry, I know how close you two were,” the note fell from my hands back onto the pile of unopened mail.

I grabbed my laptop and opened a browser to google. I was stunned, but not sad at all. I kept cleaning, but that didn’t seem right. I posted about it, in those starkest terms because I felt I needed to see it written out, in print. He was not only dead, BUT TWO YEARS DEAD.

From what I gathered, the cancer he had as a baby, returned. He briefly went into remission in ’08, but a more aggressive form returned in ’09. They had to remove a lung, but he thought he would beat it again. He didn’t. (Actually, I found a post written by this girl Jenny, who said that he was her best friend from childhood. I SO SIDEEYED the HELL outta of that! DUDE! I ain’t never heard of you “JEN-KNEE”, if that IS YOUR REAL NAME! HMPH!) I poured through all the stuff I could find about his death online and I was still pretty okay.

Frankly, I had done all the sad, weepy mourning for this relationship back in 2003. I read in our high school newsletter that he had been honored at Homecoming and I e-mailed him asking why he didn’t tell me so I could have gone? And he replied something along the lines of “I thought you’d be mad that it wasn’t you.” And I was all “OF COURSE, I’M MAD IT WASN’T ME! But right below that, I’m happy it was you.” To that, he just sent back a smiley face: this one: : ) He thought that one was cuter than : – ) cause the latter looked like a potato. #truestory. Then, I sent him a happy new year’s email and it bounced back to me.

That was that.

We were done and I didn’t care anymore. As I told @Vinnay, the day before I had thrown out a bunch of postcards and letters from him because “he was dead to me… I just didn’t know he was dead to EVERYBODY! Waa!!”

Which is totally ridiculous, isn’t it? Father Robert saw me sorta sobbing through mass and he was all “what’s wrong?” And I ran through my possible “uhh, this guy I used to know died. Um…two years ago” answer and settled on “nothing, allergies.”

Then I spent the day trying to think of awesome Don stories and looking at pictures of us from friendster.

Seconds before this picture was taking at our high school graduation party someone said "pretend it's a wedding cake."

(YES, talk about a way back machine!)

I hadn’t really thought about him in so long, that it was hard to remember him at first, but random things started popping in my head: when I got my first car, when I graduated from law school, I told him I’d come pick him up (he was the first of my friends in high school to get a car and would drive me EVERYWHERE, so I figured it’d be a funny turn about for him to be the passenger.) About ten minutes after we were on the highway, he kind of clears his throat and says “so, you know what I find helpful? Before switching lanes, just kinda glance through the back window here (he taps on the window on the backseat passenger side) to make sure you’re not running a car off the road.” I laughed so hard.

Or in junior year when I decided glasses would make me look smart, so I bought these clear glass ones and I had braided my hair over the summer, so I called him the night before the first day of school and was like “dude, I look totally different now, you might not recognize me, so just giving you the heads up that I wear glasses and braided my hair.” So the next day, I see him and he doesn’t say anything and I’m all “DUDE! HELLO!” And he goes “Dawn? OH MY GOD! IS THAT YOU??” Jackass.

And that lead to one of the funniest things I remembered, I used to call him at like 2 in the morning from Yale because I didn’t want to “disturb his fancy Princeton life.” And we’d talk till like 6 in the morning — on one of these marathon calls where I was probably bitching about my crazy freshman year roommates, he goes “You are SO MELODRAMATIC!” Without hesitation OR a shred of self awareness or irony I respond “WHAT? HOW DARE YOU?!” and hang up. He calls me back, I pick up and hang up. He calls me back again and I answer “you take that back.” He goes “Fine. You’re not melodramatic. At all.” #RRUUUDDDEEE

I remembered going to his Princeton graduation and his mom feeding me the most delicious strawberries I’d ever eaten! Like maybe the first strawberries I’d ever eaten EVER! And I kept dipping them in the powdered sugar, so the lower half of my face was practically white… actually, that memory is mortifying.

Then those memories gave way to the less happy ones of broken promises and unreturned calls. Days of silence between us turning into weeks turning into months turning into years turning into forever.

And so I’ve spent the last few days alternating between an inconsolable teenage me, who can’t believe her other half is gone and the petulant twenty something me who pointedly insists she doesn’t care.

In the end, the thirty-something me is grateful that for those turbulent high school years and the scary first-time-away-from-home college years, though I was often alone, I was never lonely. I had a partner in crime, a literal and figurative wheel man. Every club I started, I was President; he was Vice President. Even in college, if I joined a club at Yale, he had to join the same one at Princeton, so we’d “have stuff to talk about!” I called him by his last name all the time, so everyone in school did too — but I didn’t like that, so I made up a nickname for him one day.
“Why are you calling me that?”
“So that years from now, after we’ve grown up and I see you on the street, I can call you that and you’ll know it’s me!”
“Huh. Well, then you can stop calling me that, I’ll know.”
I never did see him on the street all grown up…but I think he was probably right. He would have known.
Heck, he was probably right about the melodramatic thing too.




Tuesday, January 10th, 2012 by Dawn Summers


And you take a moment
Promise me this:
That you’ll stand by me forever
But if God forbid fate should step in
And force us into a goodbye
If you have children someday
When they point to the pictures
Please tell them my name
Tell them how the crowds went wild
Tell them how I hope they shine

Long live the walls we crashed through
I had the time of my life with you