I actually feel a little silly even writing this down, but I've been thinking a lot about it. Not because... Not because it's happening, or anything like that. I know it isn't yet. It just... I don't know. Just happened?

Anyway, the dream... I was at the park. I was waiting for Peter, sitting on a bench, and looking out towards the playground. And in that playground there was this little boy, so perfect and so happy that my heart aches just remembering it.

He was mine. That little boy I dreamed about was my son, and Peter's. I remember how beautiful he was. He had Peter's eyes, and his smile. He was just... He was perfect.

...it's silly, I know. I've never claimed that my dreams are logical by any means, but it still surprised me that I'd dream of something (and, well, someone) like that. I don't think it really means anything, other than what it could be in the future. I'm just ignoring the fact that Peter never got to the playground. And that, when we have kids - however long from now that is - our life could be like that. I'm proud of him; I'm so incredibly proud of him. But, that dream...

As nice as it was, I hope I don't dream tonight. I'm not ready for another one of those yet.

New York is always in the world's eyes when the new year comes in. Everywhere people are getting ready for it, for all the new surprises and challenges they will be facing. Stores are selling the streamers, and hats, and bottles of champagne so the day - or night, really - can be celebrated properly.

Mary Jane has always liked New Year's. More than Halloween, and Thanksgiving. More than Christmas, even. Each year she tries to set new goals she wants to accomplish, and she likes to start January feeling like she has a new start. New things to look forward to, new things to accomplish.

This year is no different than the rest. She doesn't care where she and Peter will be celebrating it, but as long as they're together she doesn't care. She's done with 2008, and she knows that everyone she cares about could use a new start. They all need a new beginning, so they can put behind all the bad things that happened throughout the past year and start a new page.

Wherever it is they celebrate the new year, Mary Jane will be ready. She can't wait for 2009 to start.

I read about a million fictional characters every year. Sometimes it's because I like reading novels, and other times - the majority of the time - because I'm auditioning for a play so I have to read the script. I love to get in that character's head, and live their life. I like to get away and be someone who isn't me for a moment. When I was younger that was what attracted me so strongly to acting; I didn't like being me. I didn't like the environment where I was, or what I had to deal with on a daily basis.

Things are different now, though.

I'm not a little kid anymore, and I'm not tied to that house where I grew up. I'm... Well, I'm myself. And yes, I still read about characters, and I learn their quirks and personalities. I try to get in their head, and I live their lives as best as I can so I can be a good actress. But I don't long to be them at the end of the day. Not anymore.

So, which fictional character would I want to be? No one. It took me a while to get here, but I don't mind who I am anymore. More importantly than anything else, I really like the life I lead now. I don't need to trade it in for anything else.

I hope one day New York City will be safe enough so that it doesn't need Spider-man.

[locked to Peter]

I understand why you do what you do. I think you're very brave and strong for it, and I hope you know that I support you for every bit of it.

But sometimes I keep thinking that you should be able to have your own life, too. And by that I mean that you can have a chance to be in school without worrying if you need to leave class early because a robbery took place somewhere, or because some other villain decides that hey now it's a good time to strike. You give a lot to the city, and you're amazing for it, but you're also amazing without the suit. I hope you know that. You pull yourself into so many pieces so you can keep your identity a secret, so you can have your personal life and your 'work' life, and... I don't know. Is it bad of me to think that? Or, well, I guess to hope that? I feel selfish for saying it out loud, but you know what I mean, yeah?

Spider-man or no Spider-man, you're my hero. You always have been, Peter Parker. I love you. This city is so much safer for having you in it, and I hope one day it'll be able to be safe on its own so you can see that your sacrifices were able to lead to that.

When you're a waitress you get to see all sorts of people. The nice ones, the not so nice ones, the impatient ones, the ones that are very kind even if you're new and extremely uncomfortable in the uniform you have to wear. It's amazing the amount of personalities that you meet in an eight hour shift, and considering I live in New York? There was never a dull moment.

One day I got to meet this lady that was extremely rude. On most days I'd do my best to withstand it, because I had no other choice, but that particular day I was already in a bad mood because of a bad audition. I still tried to be nice, though, because I had to be and I didn't want to get in trouble since being a waitress seemed to be only job I could get.

Well, surprise surprise, I got in trouble anyway. The order was cold, apparently, and she was going to "talk to my manager about the horrible service of this dump." Considering the type of diner it was I don't know why she was so surprised, but I didn't say that. I didn't go off on her, and I didn't yell. I didn't even glare. I just smiled, nice and easy, and said something that made her turn almost as red as the tomato soup she had ordered.

"Awesome. Will that be all?"

Oh, the commotion she caused because of it was never ending. But, you know, looking back on it... The look on that woman's face when I said that? I'd say it was worth it. At least a little. It actually managed to get me in a much better mood afterwards.

Going to school was a relief. I didn't do extraordinary well, and I'm not going to lie and say that I did. It was a distraction from what was going on at home, though. I actually hated vacations because, I thought, being at home was a little version of Hell. My parents had never had the perfect relationship, but as I started getting older it seemed as if their problems were getting worse and worse. Or, rather, my father's drinking was getting worse and worse.

Actually, maybe it was always that way. Maybe I just never noticed because I was too young and naive, and growing older meant waking up to something that had always been there but I was barely realizing for the first time.

Whatever it was, I was glad to get out of the house. I liked making friends, and going to their house after school. I liked the little plays we'd put together, and I think I fell in love with acting then. It gave me a freedom that I hadn't experienced, and that I didn't even know existed, but it was so amazing for me to suddenly become someone else. At that age I didn't really see it like that, of course; I was just having fun, playing a character that I liked and having fun.

I guess, even if things were bad then, and even if it wasn't the life that I wanted to have because I envied my friends with their good and happy families, I was able to get something good out of it. I was able to discover something that I wanted to do once I got old enough at a young age.

Ice cream therapy.

After a really long day when everything feels like it goes wrong (you're late for something really important, someone is overly rude to you, it rains when you're wearing your favorite outfit with the perfect hairstyle after HOURS of trying to get it right, an overly annoying parent tries to get in touch with you, you don't get a part in a play that you've been really hoping for), the perfect pick-me-up is ice cream. This one is my favorite. It kind of adds all the things that are crucial and puts it together in this perfect little mix that maybe doesn't take away what happened during the day, but it makes it easier to deal with. Or, I guess, it makes it easier for you to erase that bad taste that all those little 'events' of the day leave in your mouth.

Movies or music (along with the ice cream therapy) are necessary, too. Either curl up and watch a movie, or just lay on the couch and eat while listening to your favorite songs.

So, if you need me, that's what I'll be doing while Peter gets home. I just need to decide if I'd rather watch a movie (and if so, which one) or listen to music. Decisions, decisions.

Trying to find an agent is one of the most stressful situations you can get yourself into. You don't want to get ripped off, you want to find someone that can help you, you want someone good on your side and that wants to help you... They need to help you find a job that is good for your career, and that can open doors for you later on. It's crucial, more or less.

Five steps that I've seen for a successful negotiation... 1) You have to know what you're talking about. If you don't, then others can easily take advantage of you. 2) You need to know what you want in order to get the expected result. 3) You need a goal in mind. And I mean a long term goal, so you can know how to get there. 4) Stick to what you want. It's easy to get siderailed by someone who claims to know better, but you can't let it get to you. 5) Look confident. Kind of ties in with the first one, but at the same time it's something else entirely. You can know what you're talking about, but you can be a nervous wreck. That? Is not helpful at all.

I can't claim success in every negotiation I've been in, and that I've seen my agent do, but for the most part it works. And you have to stick with what you know.

...I guess that could also be a step, huh?

The first thing I really remember is the ocean. I'm not even sure if it's a real memory or not, and I'm a little...well I wouldn't call it afraid but I don't want to ask my parents if it's real or not. Because to me it is, and it's a memory I'm really fond of.

I remember my sister and I running along the beach, splashing each other. Mom was somewhere behind us, telling us to be careful and "Mary Jane, be nice to your sister" even if she couldn't hide her laughter. I don't remember how old we were, but we were having so much fun, and it was just perfect. Mom was happy. I remember Dad being happy, too. We were all so happy that day, which is probably why I'm so fond of it. It's one of those memories you want to keep every detail of, you know? And I already know I will.

Dear Harry,

Do you ever get one of those moments where you want to protect those you love, because you hate to see them hurt, but you don't know how to do it? I've been having a lot of those moments lately whenever I think of you. You have been hurt so many times already, by so many people that shouldn't hurt you because of how much you mean to us, and it seems we are the ones that hurt you the most.

I know I have already apologized for doing so, but I really am sorry for ever hurting you. I did when I shouldn't have, when you are one of the greatest friends I've ever had. You didn't deserve to be treated the way I treated you. Things should have been different so you wouldn't have gotten caught in the middle of a mess - my mess - and I'm really sorry, Harry. God, I hope you know that and believe me. It has been years, I know. We have both moved on, our lives are so different, but I still need to say it. Again.

I love you, and I hope you know that too. I wish I could do or say something to help you right now, when I know you still miss Connor, but I don't know what that is. If there is ever anything, please let me know. Company, someone to talk to, someone to grab a cup of coffee with -- anything. I'm always going to be there for you.

Love,

Mary Jane

It has become almost a tradition for Mary Jane to stay awake whenever Spider-man is out at night. Falling asleep is not really an option, because her mind runs a mile a minute thinking of what could be happening to Peter in that very second.

So, instead of even trying to fall asleep, she turns on the radio and finds something to do. If asked she'll say that it's so she can listen to music and relax, but the reality is that she uses the radio as a way to find out if something happens to Peter. She reads, and goes over her lines for the play that she's in, and surprisingly enough sometimes she can concentrate enough to learn them even if her attention is half on whatever it is being said on the radio.

When she can't concentrate and her thoughts are simply too loud to ignore, she thinks about Peter, and about Harry, Aunt May, her mother, her sister, her father. She thinks of how they are, and how life is going for them. Is Peter taking care of himself? How can she help Harry cope with Connor leaving him? Is Aunt May alright living on her own? How is her mother's health doing? Is her sister still with the loser boyfriend she keeps going back to? Is her father always going to remain the same?

She's grateful for the thoughts, though, because they keep her busy. She's not left to imagine the trouble that Peter is finding in the streets, and once Peter gets back she's tired enough to simply curl up next to him and fall asleep. Before doing so, however, and without fail, there is one last thought that runs through her mind. She gives thanks for the fact that Peter made it home safe, and well. That has also become part of the tradition.

Oh this one is easy. Winter Olympics, and it would have to be skating. Singles, pairs, ice dancing; doesn't matter. Any kind of skating would be so much fun.

I have always liked to watch those competitions, ever since I was a little girl. Mom would watch them with me whenever they were on TV. They just look so beautiful and graceful, and I'm always in awe at just how perfect they look. Have you seen some of their choreographies? It just blows my mind at some of the things they come up with, how they manage to pull it off so flawlessly, and just... Oh it's amazing. I could watch re-runs of those for hours without getting bored once.

One day I want to learn to at least twirl in the way that they do. It would be so much fun. Even if I don't make it to the Olympics.


(w.c. 151)

Her wedding dress is perfect. Her hair is fixed just right. Her make-up has been done so she can look perfect, and today should be the happiest day of her life.

Except, it isn't.

The way her stomach is churning isn't in the way that her friends from the play have told her about. There are no butterflies fluttering around; what she feels is more like a tornado that is making it hard to think straight. She loves John, she tries to convince herself, but it's not enough. It's not convincing enough. Shouldn't she be done with this, a part of her wonders, trying to convince herself that she loves someone when the truth is something else entirely?

It shouldn't be this way.

Suddenly she's thinking of a mountain top. She should be marrying on a mountain top, isn't that what Peter had told her? She can imagine it now. The minister, their family and friends under an enormous tree that is casting a shadow big enough for everyone. There's a breeze, just strong enough to make random strands of her hair twirl about, but she doesn't care if her hair is perfect or not. She just imagines herself walking down the aisle that has been made up of white rose petals towards the groom, and she's smiling, and when the groom looks up it isn't John. It's Peter. He looks nervous, but he looks so happy, and her heart twists when she thinks of the reality even if her stomach flutters at what her imagination is playing instead.

Even if her hands are shaking a little by now, she quickly looks for a pen and paper. Her mother is looking at her anxiously, nervously at the desperation in Mary Jane's movements, but whether or not she says something to her goes unnoticed. Mary Jane's focus is on something else.

By the time that John reads the note, she's running from the church. Relief and guilt are colliding in her, and she should have said much more, but she couldn't. She had to leave, no matter how badly she feels for what she has done to him.

John, the note had said in barely eligible writing, I should be saying this to you, face to face, but please just know that I'm sorry. I can't marry you. I'm so sorry.

Peter Parker.

Let me clarify: not in a bad way. At least I don't think it is. It seems silly now, but it wasn't all that silly then. And it's not that he was scary, it was just that... I don't know. He was different. So different from the type of guys I was used to. He cared about people, and he showed it. It was so easy to see it in his eyes. He was so kind, and so understanding. There was never any judgment from his part, when I was so used to it. He was just...different. He always has been, but it's not a bad thing. To some it might be, I guess, but it isn't. I don't think it is. It's what makes Peter himself.

But he really did use to scare me. In a way I knew what to expect from others, but not with Peter. Or I did, that same understanding and that support that I don't even know how I earned it, but I wasn't used to it. I had no idea what to do with it, or how to take it. I didn't know how to appreciate it how I should have.

Things are different now. I do appreciate how he is, and I love him for it. I'm used to the fact that he's different, and I love him for that, too. And he doesn't scare me anymore. I'm not afraid of what I feel for him anymore. Those days are long gone.

When Mary Jane was a child, the way to soothe her would be to have her mother pass her fingers through her hair. It didn't matter what tirade her father was on that day, or how much he had been drinking; the way to tune out the world would be to sit with her mother and have her brush her hair. She would sit Mary Jane on her lap, and would quietly talk to her. They would exist in their own little world that way - one where angry words couldn't reach them, where it didn't matter how loud the door was being banged on, or what was going on around them. Mary Jane felt safe. It wouldn't matter what she was saying, because Mary Jane knew what her tone was trying to really say. It would end soon. Daddy isn't always like this. He's a good man, he's just troubled. It will end soon.

When those days were over, of having her mother reassure her with quiet tones and a hand over her hair, Mary Jane was old enough to know how to portray to the world that she was okay. At school she was the happy girl, very outgoing and with hair that made her unique. It was her trademark, in a way.

Things would be okay, she would lie to herself as she made her way to school and brushed back her own hair so it could look just right. She didn't need her mother to do it anymore, because she had learned how to do it herself. But that didn't stop her from wishing that she would do it, at least once more; she would always manage to get Mary Jane to believe her, even if deep down she already knew the truth.

When I still lived at home I was constantly reminded just how little I respected myself. This was coming from the man that has little to no respect for others, which should have given me a hint that I shouldn't have listened to him. But, I did. I mean, he was right for the most part. I don't know how much a person really respects themselves when she "throws herself at others," as my dad would put it. I've read that putting up appearances is a sort of "coping mechanism" for other things going on in our lives, and I guess that's what I would do. In high school I was always at the best parties, with the most popular people in the school. I thought it was great.

It didn't help, though. I was still miserable because at home things were less than ideal. I didn't make others respect me, and I didn't respect myself. But my own father wouldn't do it, so how could I expect others to?

Throughout the years I have been able to change that. Which is fortunate, but it isn't a job that I did alone. People have helped in me reaching that place, whether they know it or not, by giving me a place in their lives.

I'm not really sure what the exact definition of respect is, but to me it's that. Giving people a place, respecting who they are and what they stand for, even if you don't agree with it. I don't think I'll ever be able to understand my father, and at the same time I don't think I'll ever be able to respect him. It's impossible to respect someone when they aren't willing to return the favor. I can say that, in all these years, I've learned that much.

I live in a great city. It's a little crazy (well, okay, very crazy) and chaotic on more days than not, and there's so much traffic and so many people that it can feel crowded, but I like it anyway. We have a little bit for everyone here to see, which is why it's always filled with tourists. You should see how it is now, it's as if it's absolutely packed with them. It's always busy, and it's full, and even if there's some darkness in it... I don't know. It's still home.

Don't get me wrong, as much as I may love it I still complain about it. Often. Especially when the crime rate is high, but we have some help for that.

I live in New York City. I have, for years now. It's so much more than I can ever really say, because words can't do it justice. It's home, and it's home for Spider-Man. So, clearly, it's a great city to live in.

I just want a normal day. Nothing big, nothing flashy. I'm done with big and flashy. I just want everyone I care about to be there, and have a good normal day.

*locked*

It's selfish, but I wouldn't want Peter to go out that day. He would stay with me, and we would have fun. New York could, I don't know, wait until we were done celebrating my birthday and then they could have Spider-Man back. But for one day, I would love to have my boyfriend to myself. Well, to myself and to my loved ones. It's just, celebrating without him isn't the same. Even if he's there for part of it, it's not the same. I don't know how to explain it, but I know it's selfish of me. And we live in New York, it's not like realistically we can just hope that any given day he can get time off and do whatever he wants. Or whatever I want, I guess.

This was a bad idea.

*unlocked*

But it doesn't matter, I'm not too fond of my birthday, anyway.