So I have yet to finish that piece I have entitled flying freedom. Temping is eating my soul and cutting into my creative time. So instead I'm going to stream of consciouness write about stalking. I have recently, given up the art form because I think I may have gotten caught. After more than 12 years of stalking I've finally been foiled-- god damn site tracking devices.

I believe I first started stalking in high school around age 15. It was sophomore year in high school and I had somehow learned Anthony P.'s entire schedule and committed it to memory. I would then go out of my way to walk down certain hallways at certain times of day to be in his presence. Sometimes, I would smile and say, "Hi." Other times I would pretend not to see him. I have no idea why I would put all that effort in to see him and then ignore him. (I have to admit at 27 I still find myself doing this. I don't know what my problem is). I spent most of my high school years obsessing on this boy. When I got my liscence I would drive by his house, always having a perfect story prepared to explain my presence in his neighborhood. I never actually ran into him.

My senior year in high school I was dating a lad, Brian C's, who coincidently and conviently lived just around the block from Anthony. (No, that is not why I dated Brian-- it should have been the reason, but it wasn't) One day when I was driving past Anthony's house I encountered Brian. Since we were dating I had to stop and chat. Brian asked me coyly, "What are you doing here?" He obviously thought I was stalking him--poor boy. I kind of panicked my bullshit story I had prepared for Anthony, "I was just dropping Rebecca off at friends house," seemed transparent. Brain would figure out for sure I was stalking Anthony. Leaving Brian no choice but to break up with me. Then who would I go to the Prom with! In the end Brian thought I was stalking him--the fool. A few weeks later I broke up with Brian (it was never going to work if I didn't feel the impulse to stalk him I obviously didn't care.). I wound up going to the Prom with Danny Lescht, my 8th grade boyfriend, whom I never stalked or kissed.

Anyway as the seasons cycled and I aged my stalking took me places: parks, bars, the lower east side, and even a festival or two. But it wasn't until cyberspace that I ever got caught. We've all googled someone and checked out what if anything is written about them. We've gone to friendster pages and myspace pages just to check out a boy, see his face. If you're good you can find out if they have a personal ad and see the last time they've logged in. (Adult friend finder is a little intimidating) . The boy (or girl) never knows you were there checking him out. But bloggs are a different story. They have sitemeters. Did you know sitemeters tell a person what network a vistior comes from. Which is fine if it's a private network in your home that is just a number. But I was stalking at work. HarperCollins leaves a trace. That means, they know. I loose, because I obviously care and haven't moved on--from any of them. So now I have to move on because who is going to get back together with their stalker? Besides me.

So I'm done people. My stalking days are over. It was a nice 12 year run. I'd like to thank to my friends who came with me to varying events. We have some great memories to last us a lifetime. Maybe in my retirement I'll dabble in a real relationship.