How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat. Some dance to remember; some dance to forget.

It is currently. . .4:22 a.m. I've been lying in bed for the last hour, trying to talk myself into falling asleep, and, clearly, I did not accomplish that particular goal. I decided that getting up, turning on infomercials, blogging and finishing my freelancing projects would be more effective and time-effective than lying in bed, being really pissed off that I couldn't sleep.

Luckily, one of my absolute favorite infomercials is on: For Jack Lalanne's Power Juicer. I. . .really want this juicer. For only four payments of $49.95! It's backed by the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval! It comes with more than 60 recipes (a $25 deal for free). If you call right now, they'll make one of the payments FOR you! That's only three payments of $49.95. But wait! Fitness phenomenon Jack Lalanne wants to celebrate his birthday by taking AN AMAZING $50 dollars off! That's like paying only TWO PAYMENTS of $49.95. Hell to the yeah. I've wanted this thing, seriously, since I first saw the infomercials about a month or so ago when Carrie and I had a sleepover of sorts, where we talked about things girls talk about, ate Doritoes, drank wine, and saw the commercial for this fabulous juicer.

Really, the only infomercial that's even remotely as good is the one for those knives. I don't know the specifics of them, but you get, like 5,000 kinds of knives that can all cut through an aluminum can (and really? I know I often get the urge to cut aluminum cans in half. So these knives are pretty much essential to my everyday life.)

So the reason I'm not sleeping is because I've been trying to not take Tylenol PM. I was afraid I was going to get addicted to it or something. As it turns out, the only thing I'm really addicted to is sleep, and now I'm not getting that. Oh yeah, and crack cocaine.

No, I'm kidding. About the crack cocaine. Not the sleep.

But I really can't sleep without something to help me along. If I drink wine before I go to bed, I can GET to sleep, but I can't STAY asleep. If I just bring myself to the absolute brink of exhaustion, I can sometimes fall asleep, but, again, I can't stay asleep. And with the Tylenol PM, 9 out of 10 nights, I can fall and stay asleep.

So what's been going on with Sarah? I've been working all the time, which is nothing new, but I've also been. . .really, really happy. Like, almost ridiculously so. It's something that you can't really exhibit at work, because then you have to contend with really annoying questions, but I'm smiling a lot more. Yesterday (Monday, my production day), I was a little stressed out when I went into work (I'll get into why in a second), but it was OK. Like. . .I didn't cry, which is my usual fallback, and I just kept plugging along. And I finished by 5! One of these days, I'll finish by 4. And maybe one day, I'll meet my 2 o'clock deadline. (Oh, don't look at me like that. The guy in prepress who does the pages doesn't come in until at LEAST 3.)

So the reason I was stressed out. Friday, Vi says to me, "Sarah, can you come into my office? We need to talk about the freelancing."

At this point, I freaked out because, as I mentioned, I've been writing freelance articles, and the first thing I thought was that she'd found out, and I wasn't allowed to do that, and I was in trouble.

(I mean, I know that pretty much everyone does it. Freelances, that is. But that's where my mind immediately went.)

As it turns out, they have cut. . .all of my funding for my publication, meaning I can't pay anyone to write for me anymore. I have a little network of freelancers, three of which were paid. The rest do it because they like to/to get their name out there/whatever. Some of them used to be paid, but stayed on after Carrie told them she couldn't pay them anymore. I was hoping that these three (The Big 3, if you will) would do the same. Or, at least one of them would do the same.

So I let the three of them know what was up. One of them wrote a "humor" column twice a month and got paid $50 a pop for them. I. . .think she was entirely overpaid, but she was popular within the county and had been doing it pretty much since the beginning, so I guess they consider her worth it. I was told to tell her that she could either do one a month for the usual $50 or, if she still wanted to do two, it would have to be cut back to $25 a month. Yes, that kind of sucks, but if you really like doing something. . .well, I'll come back to that.

One of them got paid $25 for 250 word columns and $35 for 350 word columns. Again, I felt she was overpaid, because honestly? I could write the same thing in a short amount of time. (And now, I probably will have to.)

The last one, I'm not actually sure what she got paid, because she sometimes would write things just because she wanted to and only charged for the bigger ones. She was my favorite. Not just because she's the nicest of the three, but because her work. . .ethic?. . .makes more sense to me. Charge for the bigger articles (which were always really good) and write smaller ones because you want to.

The first person I heard back from was the column-writer. Literally, I cringed when I saw the e-mail from her, because, from what I remember from Carrie talking about dealing with her, I just didn't feel like it would end well.

It didn't, really.

She was kind of bitchy about the "buy-one-get-one-free" deal and said she "couldn't deal with this right now" because she was flying. . .somewhere to do some kid's show or something. She said she'd deal with it when she got back. I'm. . .guessing that's going to be a no. She said she probably wouldn't be writing for me at all anymore.

The second one wrote me back and said she wouldn't be contributing anymore. She also told me that she would cancel the two interviews she already had lined up (which is what put me in a lurch yesterday) and for me to let her know when I could pay her again. That. . .kind of pissed me off. On the one hand, I get it, kind of. On the other hand, that was a commitment she'd already made, and she ended up really screwing me.

When talking about this situation, I've told people that, in college, I worked for my college paper, and I have no idea how much I got paid to do it. I did get paid, and it wasn't a lot, but I didn't really care. I would have done it for free, because I loved doing it. Especially senior year, when I was writing my columns. I LOVED it. So I don't entirely understand why people aren't willing to at least work with me. Maybe not write articles that are as long. Maybe not write them as often. If the guy I freelance for found himself in the same situation and he said he couldn't pay me for what I was doing (which is X-number of 500-word articles), I'd say, well, if you cut the word number down, I'll still do them sometimes.

It's a little different, because he has several writers working for him, but you get the gist.

The last woman said if she had ideas or stories every now and then, she'd still send them to me. And this is why she's my favorite. She gets what I tried to explain above. She likes doing it.

So that's where I am right now. Hopefully, one of these days, the economy will turn around and people will have jobs again and will pay for their advertising (why they don't collect money BEFORE running the ad, I'll never understand) and I can pay the freelancers for their word. And I can tell you one thing: if I'm still in charge when that happens, I will first pay the people who have been writing for me for free. Because they're going to be the ones that help me through.

Oh, speaking of. Those of you who remember my past conundrum, of needing to interview the person who hates me more than probably anyone else in the county in order to write a center story? Carrie offered to write that story for me. So win-win-win, because I get the person that I feel would be the most instrumental to my story without actually having to speak to her, Carrie gets to write a center story (which. . .I'm assuming she wants to do, since she volunteered to do it), and the woman that hates me gets recognized for her work. Also, I get to be the bigger person (kind of) for including her. So, really, win-win-win-win. Wins all around.

I'm getting a vacation next week! I'll have the entire week off! Of course, that means I'm going to be working my ass off next week to get the publication finished early (early as in. . .Friday), but then I'm going to be not at work for an entire week. I'm not sure I'll really know what to do with myself. But it's not going to be work. I will absolutely NOT be answering any calls that come from the office. None. And if Vi calls me and leaves a message, I will listen to it Friday, when I come back.

Nick's coming home this week! He will be flying in Saturday. I was originally planning to go to the airport when he came in, when I thought he was coming Sunday, but as it turns out, his flight isn't expected until 10:45 p.m. Saturday, and planes are usually late, aren't they? Then he's probably going to sleep through Sunday. So. . .I don't actually know when I'll see him. But he'll be home.

So it's after 5 now. I'm going to go finish an article and maybe get like an hour of sleep.

UPDATE: It is currently 7:42 a.m., the sun is up, and I have written my final two articles so I don't have to worry about them mid-day like I'd intended to. I never went back to sleep. I also had a minor nervous breakdown because I couldn't find one of the articles I'd written, and I thought I was going to have to rewrite it. Damn you, Montpellier, France, for saving to the "My Templates" part of the computer. I'm thinking, while I'm up, I'm going to go get a biscuit for breakfast. I also anticipate being really loopy all day.

I know it's mad, but if I go to hell will you come with me or just leave?

Ladies and gentlemen. . .I have a shoe problem.

I hate that I'm so stereotypically female that I love shoes as much as I do. But they're fun.

I went to Asheville this evening because I was a little stressed out and I wanted to drive, but I didn't want to drive aimlessly. I was going to go to Target, but then I saw that the mall was right there, so I stopped in there. I went in through the JC Penney entrance and saw, as I walked in, the shoe section.

I never had a chance.

The thing is, though, I'm smart about my stupid addiction. I have a certain amount of money that I absolutely will not go over when it comes to shoes. I buy 90% of my shoes on sale. I only went to the clearance rack, because it's not like I'm rolling in money. All of the shoes on the rack were $7.97. I bought 2 pairs:

I may be in love. And even better, the original price for both pairs was $50 and I got them both for less than $18 total.

The thing I don't understand is why I insist on heels. I'm 5'9 (well, 5'8.75) and whenever I put on heels, I'm probably at least 6 feet tall. But even when I wear shoes that aren't dressy (like the ones on the left) I insist on chunky heels.

While I'm sharing shoes, I'll put up pictures of the 2 pairs I bought when I visited Ashley in South Carolina. (I'm aware that most people most likely don't care what kinds of shoes I buy, but it's for posterity.)

Awesome. When I was with Ashley and I found the pink pair, she said she'd call my best friend and tattle on me if I didn't buy them. And then, that night, I wore them to dinner. We dressed up and went out and it was pretty cool. I wish I had a date I was excited about so I could dress up and be girly.

(Note: I didn't say "I wish I had a date" because then people could rightly say, "But you DID have a date and you cancelled it to go to a football game.")

Short story about Biltmore house.

Carrie and I met up with Carrie's sister (my cousin) Ginny and a few of her friends and we went to a wine tasting.

The guy was checking our IDs. Ginny didn't have hers but she talked the guy into letting her in anyway. She's. . .I don't know. 28? She has a 2-year-old, although that doesn't mean much these days and especially around this area.

Anyway, the guy got to me and he said, "I'm definitely going to need to see your ID. You're the youngest one in this group, aren't you?"

Now, I was, but only by a few months. Carrie turned 24 last month, and I'll be 24 next month. I wasn't aware I looked that young. I should be thankful, I guess, but I also happen to know why a lot of people I try to interview don't take me seriously. Because I look so young, like I shouldn't be doing what I'm doing. I'm an editor for crying out loud.

When I was talking to OnlineDateGuy, he said something like, "So, you're all on your own, you've got a steady job, and you're not even 24 yet?" like it was a big deal. Which, I guess, it is.

Basically, I'm a rock star.

She wants a car that will get her there. She's changing her name from Kitty to Karen. She's trading her MG for a white Chrysler La Baron.

Happy Sunday everyone. In a little more than 24 hours, I have to go home, and I'm not pleased about that fact.

We went to the beach today. I think it's interesting how I forget how much I freaking love the beach until I'm there and I'm like WHOOO!!! BEACH!!!! And then I forget again. Until the next time I go.

I've spent entirely too much money since I've been here. Call it retail therapy. But I've gotten some fabulous, fabulous shoes.

I don't want to go home. I'm pretty sure you've deduced that, but really? It's almost painful how much I don't want to go home. I like it here. Maybe because it's not there, I don't know.

We went to Savannah yesterday, and it was ridiculously cool. I don't know that I've ever actually stopped in Georgia. I know I've been though it, on the way to Florida, but I don't think I've ever actually been anywhere there, except maybe a rest area. It was humid, but it was so. . .alive. I know I live in a tourist town, so there are people from Florida meandering around all the time, but most of the people in the area in which I live are old. Sure, there were old people in Savannah, but it was a younger crowd. The next place in which I live needs a higher percentage of a younger demographic. It's a little frustrating sometimes, because there really and truly aren't a lot of people my age where I live. I'd like people that can relate to me more. Maybe without kids. Because although I'm fond of my friends with children, I can't relate to my friends with children. Because I don't. . .have children.

Random little vent here that no one except my twin in PA will get. . .I take part in this message board, and I have for quite a while. I actually got banned from it a couple of years ago, but I managed to rejoin, and I've behaved myself more or less since then. Anyway, there's this girl on there that absolutely drives me crazy. I don't know exactly why she drives me so crazy, but I don't think the other board regulars are too fond of her either. Anyway, she made this post the other day (or maybe it was today?) talking about what a klutz she is. She ended it saying something like, "Someone ask me about the incident with the sliding door in Florida. Because I'll tell you."

My question here is, why doesn't she just tell the story? I'm really, really, really hoping no one asks her for the story. Because I'm mean, I guess.

If not for the fact that I've already decided that my Next Big Move will most assuredly take me farther north, I'd consider living in this area. Although, the thought of hurricanes freaks me out, too. Also, it's humid.

But it's really pretty and higher class than the area in which I live. My town is. . .well, you've got your elite that have nice houses on the side of big mountains, but in general, it's not a particularly prosperous area. And it shows.

So we'll be heading out tonight (I'm going to wear a pair of my new shoes!) and see what we can come across. Maybe I'll go down to Parris Island and try to pick up a Marine or two.

Actually, no. My brother's a Marine, and I don't think I'd date one.

I've got my things, I'm good to go. You met me at the terminal. Just one more plane ride and it's done.

So I made it to South Carolina. I didn't initially think that it was going to be able to come, because I'm having some ridiculous car problems with my ridiculous car. It's going to cost me no less than at least 200 bucks to fix. I hate how expensive cars are. Especially cars more than 10 years old.

I decided to go by the library on the way out and pick up some audio books. Now that I've experienced traveling with audio books, I don't think I'll ever go a long distance without them. It kept me awake and I feel like something was accomplished (i.e., I read a book).

One of the audiobooks I picked up was He's Just Not That Into You. Now, I had checked this out of the library a while back and had read the first page or so and hated it. I don't remember specifically why I hated it so much, but I think it had something to do with the relationship situation I was in at the time and how I hated how what it was saying to me was contrary to everything I was doing at the moment in my personal life.

So I listened to the entire book for the first part of my trip and. . .I was kind of captivated. Granted, some of it wasn't altogether. . .nice. But the guy didn't say anything that wasn't entirely true. It was stuff like, don't date married men because every woman deserves to have a guy's full attention, don't overlook the fact that he says he'll call you at a specific time and then doesn't, because that just shows that he's always going to be more concerned with his time than with yours, don't waste your time with guys who give excuses as to why they can't spend more time with you. The guy was saying something like, if he really likes you, he'll find ways to call you/be with you/be the only guy in your life, etc.

I hate, hate HATE to say that a lot of the things he said never to get involved with, I've been involved with. Recently. And he said something about not settling. Which I do. Because, really and truly? Guys don't like me. No, that's not true. Guys love me. They think I'm fun and funny and they like hanging out with me. . .but they'll cancel plans to hang out with me in order to see some girl they're actually interested in. In, you know, the friend girl. So when I find a guy who's interested, I tend to be like Yes! Finally!! And I'll overlook all the crap that no normal person would overlook ever.

But, and I'm not even exaggerating, this book has changed my perception of a lot of things. I'm hoping that the next time some guy's interested, all this doesn't go out the window, but it kind of put it all in perspective.

Next: weddings and babies.

OK. Babies can be cute. Not when they're first born, but by the time they get to the three, four, five month old stage, they're cute to look at, I guess, and maybe play with. But once they start screaming/needing diaper changes/taking over every aspect of your LIFE, they're not so cute anymore.

Weddings. Occasionally, parts of them are fun. Getting all done up and eating cake are two things that I happen to enjoy.

My question, though, is why is it that every single person I spend any amount of time with is fixated on either or both?

I know that my job, as a girlfriend, is to coo over babies and to be excited about weddings but honestly? I'm just not that into them. Especially the idea of a permanent child in my life. And that's my prerogative, you know? I'm allowed to not like kids that much right now and to not want to jump into a wedding dress next week. It seems to me that a lot of people today are totally against the thought that maybe there's someone out there that doesn't

Maybe one of these days I'll change my mind. Maybe today, my friend and I will go visit Savannah and I'll meet the Georgie Peach of my dreams, and we'll have a whirlwind courtship and be married by the fall.

Maybe after GP and I get married in October, I'll be knocked up by spring and popping out babies by my first anniversary.

But I seriously doubt it.

I'm sure that this is going to get me ex-communicated from Girldom, but I just wish, sometimes, people would take into consideration that they're talking to someone who is single, will probably be single for a while, and who is surrounded by not-single people making all these plans that, honestly? I think most of us are too young for. And much as I'm fine with being on my own (hell, I'm finding out more and more recently that it lets me do. . .pretty much whatever I want without having to take anyone else's perspective into consideration. I could move to Montana if I wanted to.) I also don't like being reminded of it on a continual basis.

It's like. . .I'm diabetic, right? I'm OK with that. I've accepted that. But I don't want to sit around and talk about it. It's an aspect of my life that's there, it's not going to change any time soon, but I don't really want to discuss it.

I guess my point is, I love my friends, but I wish that there were other things they were all so interested in talking about right now. Because I can't connect. When it comes to weddings and wanting children, I don't understand the conversation, because I'm not planning a wedding and I'm not looking to spend nine months carrying something around that, after those nine months, I have to take care of fully for a few years and then deal with for the rest of my life.

Am I horrible? I feel like maybe I am, but then again, it's how I feel about the situation.

I feel like this has been a negative entry. Let's throw in some positive.

Oh my God, I ate at Applebees last night and we passed a Target. I got more excited than I should have. My town really, really needs to step it up a couple notches. It was amazing.

And we really are going to Savannah today, and I'm pretty excited about that. I didn't realize how close to Georgia this place is. I'm 8 miles outside of Georgia.

Next is on MTV right now, and if you've never seen it, you need to. It's an awful show, but you'll start watching it during a marathon and, three hours later, finally peel yourself away.