Sitting in my No-where land.....

I just spent 5 days at my parents place over Christmas.

It's weird ya know.

My mother has lived in the same area for most of her life, save when she spent a year or two in England when my father was stationed over there in the Army.

I am not sure if I feel isolated when I'm down there because of the actual fact that I AM isolated (ha ha just wait there's more) or because of the isolation I put myself into while I was actually growing up there.

Does my body, mind go on auto pilot once I get there?

It seems as I make the three hour trek, the closer I get to my childhood home, the farther away "I" go.

By the time I'm greeted at the door with the usual obligatory hug I'm not sure if I'm anything more than robotic.

I find it interesting though, the outward appearance of the landscape reflects my emotions.

I see no beauty there.

It's the prairie, desolate and wind whipped, speckled with deserted family farms broken and decaying.

You can see for miles.

When I was a small child, either I didn't notice, or it was filled with much more life...

I enjoyed running like a wild child in the groves of our family farm, making paths as I ran barefoot through the trees, hiding in my own little universe. I remember when I had ran the path so many times after a rain that it became hard, and smooth, and felt cool beneath my bare feet.

My sister and I would take our horses and ride through the trees pretending we were lost on a deserted island, or we were Indians, building forts with fallen branches, and building fires and "cooking" with an old discarded can or anything else we could find in the woods.

We lived by a lake and would take our horses swimming, laughing and living and happy in our own make believe world.

I'm not sure when I woke, and it seems my memories become less vivid with each passing year. This alone does not concern me.


I can no longer switch to that girl, running down the damp path in the woods, hair flowing behind, tangles filled with dirt and leaves, pretending --no BELIEVING-- she was on an island, connected wholly to everything around her. Confident in herself, every move made, wide eyed at every new "discovery".

I watch boo play, easily, confidently, without hesitation, enter that land of make-believe.

I have actually sat down to play with her, expecting to cross over to that land just as easily as I did long ago, and found I have somehow, somewhere misplaced that key.

Was there a key?

Was there a door?

I have lost my footing on the path, and it is filled with sharp rocks and twigs that sting as I try to find my way.

All grown up, I am starting to think, to believe that I need to find that key, because that key, that place where I was sure of every move I made, no matter the outcome, is the key to my peace, my happiness, my happily ever after.

I know it's here somewhere.....

Raw

I feel it.

I feel the physical pain in my heart, yet nothing's touching it.

I feel the hands around my throat, gripping tighter, squeezing, I'm gasping for air and I'm fighting the urge to reach up and tear them away.



There are no hands there.




What makes today so much different?

Why is it that most days I can handle the shitty job that I hate, that I go to everyday, and yet still struggle to pay the bills? I can handle boo's dad being an ass, and not even get too jealous that his life hasn't really changed, yet I am fighting for her too now. I'm fighting, and have lost a lot of my freedom, and most days I can see that she has given me so much more than I feel like I have lost right now. Most days she is my sunshine, my ray of light, but today it's like another anchor thrown on top of me to drag me down while I already struggle to keep my head above the waves.

Why is it that today I feel like I'm not going to ever find that way out?

That there's something to find a way out of?

Why is it that today I hate.

I hate more than anything else? It's clouded my vision, and has my sensibilities hostage.

I am screaming, you just can't hear me.

boo goes to school

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Where?

I don't know.

You go first.

You have to be ok if I choose not to follow.

Let go?

I'm afraid.

I need that dream again, you know, the one where I can fly.

Terrifying and beautiful all at once.

Lump

"How am I supposed to do it?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to do it?" she says as she feels her cheeks redden.

"I go over and over and over it again and I just don't know how I'm supposed to do it. And what makes me feel worse is that I know there are women in much worse situations than I."

The lump in her throat seems to find it's food source in this thought and burrows itself in.

"I work, I work full time and get more than minimum wage. I watch what I spend, and still come up short."

The lump is feeding and filling itself like a wood tick that has gorged itself gray and is ready to pop.

"I don't want to rely on him or anyone else, and yet, here I sit, a couple of months without Child Support, and I'm broke, beyond broke.... and him? Well he's living life without worrying about providing for a little girl, knowing school is starting soon, she will need supplies, yet he lives without the fear of not being able to stay afloat."

And with that flash of anger, she has given the lump dessert, it is now fat and happy and she can no longer seem to breathe.

Does anyone else find this disturbing?

Holy Craziness BATMAN!!!!

In short.. we have a middle aged man dressed as batman patrolling neighborhood parks seeking out children to keep them off of drugs, because GOD or a "voice" told him to.

Seriously?

If I was a child I think that might scare me into DOING drugs!

The who? The what? Where?

I'm busy.

I'm tired, and have found myself with a loverly summertime cold, which I'm currently trying to kick out of my system by drinking the hottest water I can possibly swallow without having to treat myself for minor burns.

You see I research everything, because, well.. I'm a dork. And today I decided to research getting rid of cold as quickly as possible on a very reliable source. GOOGLE of course! Hey at least I'm not trying the rub chicken grease on my chest and pour goose oil in my ear method, I'm just drinking extremely hot water because it's supposed to kill the bacteria that's in your sinus/respiratory system and it kinda makes sense, except for the fact I'm drinking it and not inhaling it.. because.. well then I'd have a whole other problem LIKE DROWNING...so why not try it!

I am working in Burnsville now (same company, just the specialty publications, so I'm designing magazines, and the oh so thrilling chamber directories and maps every once and awhile. The work is ok. I'm still hoping for better. Actually I'm doing more than hoping.

It's hard to believe I will be Antonia again in just a few short weeks.
Not sure how I feel about that. There's something missing this year, and I don't know exactly what that is, other than I'm not as excited as I usually am this time of year, but it could just be the other crap that's going on in my life eating up that focus.

I feel the Northwind blowing.......

Well, what would you do?

href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmURP-5jc8M-3dNWdvkAwjtulZcx3UBatJZlcJPnKw6usET62q04YFVkKJgo5OFbItB6xa9pJe4pI5uk301nJWprsErBEbCj1Zf2Vqu5Q9LMtXwv705TalSCZwsECq4soAFbXPkA/s1600-h/Boo.jpg">

What?

Oh.

When driving down the hwy, looking at a very long ride, because it's late in the day heading back into the Twin Cities Metro area and there's tons of traffic?

Me too...see....

Makes my heart hurt... but this is a fabulous idea

Plant extra vegetables in your garden and donate to your local food shelf!!!


Here's the story that ran in our paper

cyd trying to remember what she needs for the art show

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Lesbians?

So... our neighbors think Cyd and I are a couple.


I have no idea where they would come up with that. I mean we're just two girls who are renting the same house. We do everyday normal things, and what I mean by that is...it's not like we've made out in front of them or anything..

Cyd and I decided to spend the night in.

Ya know... just hang out at home and watch a movie... like normal people.

Except of course we watch movies on my computer that I download from Itunes..

...in the bedroom.

...in our beds

... which are side by side in the same room (Cyd's scared of mice and I'm scared of spiders, don't ask, it just works)

....with a great bottle of wine

.... and candle light

.... and cheese, crackers and strawberries,

....and chocolate

Ya know... like normalpeople.

So we have our movie night all set up, and are in tank tops and undies, and the doorbell rings.

We look at each other with the "Should we actually answer the door" face.

"Oh Shit! That's the neighbor, he borrowed some ground ginger before you got home, he's probably returning it!"

"Oh great! They already think we're a couple, now the house is candle lit, we're both upstairs which I'm sure they saw and heard through the open window, and I'm hurrying to get clothes back on before I answer the door!" Cyd says through laughter while jumping on one leg struggling to get her jeans back on.

Of course this makes me laugh, and we all know, my laugh is not a quiet one, as she heads off downstairs to collect the borrowed spice.

And then I hear.... in a very over exaggerated casual voice... which actually made it sound more like I'm guilty, of everything you might be thinking about me right now, completely guilty... "HI! I was just downstairs doing laundry!"

Now, since I was upstairs still in bed snickering at her high pitched attempt at being casual, I didn't hear what was said in return.... but I started laughing again, I just couldn't help it.

Cyd returns upstairs talking loudly so I can hear her from downstairs and over the noise of the fan... "Oh my God! It had to be the little boy! He was stillout there, he waited the whole time it took to get my clothes back on!"

To which I replied by pointing at the open window and tears of laughter. By the horrified look on Cyds face she just realized he probably just heard that.

Which of course makes me laugh harder, and start having to catch my breath through it all, and I start repeating over and over "Oh god... (heavy breathing) OH GOD!! Oh my god.. oh... OH.... GOD!!!!!"

Which in turn makes Cyd say "Oh God!!! OH. MY. GOD." also through laughter so hard the laugh part is not coming out it's just silent... big breath... and the words... "Oh MY GOD!"

So... like I said....Ya know... just hanging out at home and watching a movie... like normal people.

Where would they come up with that idea?

Damn.. one of is going to have to start dating again!

It's the rain I think...

I'm thinking about you again.

The way you touch me.

I can't stop thinking about you in fact.
I can't stop thinking about your touch.

I see your hands, as they move across my body, and my memory senses the touch as my body reacts.

You.

You with the touch I crave, the look that melts me, the laughter that frees me.

You with the lips I want to taste, the arms I long to wrap around me, with the soul that embraces my own.

You.

Are not here.


Yet, here, is where I am.

Waiting.

Most of the time, the waiting is not difficult, I will not settle for an imitation.

But today?

Today... every cell in my body seems to remember you.

You, who I have not met here...yet.

At my parents....in the middle of no where....

It's more important than you think, you could change someone's life.

This is a TShirt design I just did for Cyd's Art Show.. which is June 4th

Cyd works for a level 4 school... What does this mean?

Well it means she works with really... I mean really naughty kids... the ones that are on their last chance before jail time or coming back from jail time, and finishing their education.

These kids don't want to learn.... well that's not true.. these kids have been told they are nothing, by their parents, previous teachers, peers, life.

Cyd reached them... she's even writing a book about how she's reached the ones no one else seems to be able to.

She has these kids doing art, they've worked with the culinary and woodshop classes to make mosaic coffee tables, coasters and wall pieces. Culinary is preparing food for the show.

These kids have put their blood, sweat, tears and even sometimes anger into pieces of broken glass, wood, paint and journals to come through the otherside of accomplishment and healing.

If you have time on Wednesday evening June 4th 2008, PLEASE show these kids some support... there's a silent auction for the art pieces they've made, and I've been told they are beautiful...the auction prices start at material cost....

email me for more information if you're interested in attending!
or follow this link to the story

Bren Road Student Art Show

It's ok, I'm praying.

I drive from Edina to Elk River 5 days a week....it's an ok drive because I'm mostly going against traffic.

I feel bad cruising down the highway at 80mph while the poor saps driving into the Mpls area are almost at a standstill.

I see a lot of things while driving... most are your typical cell phone users not paying attention (myself included on this sometimes) that speed up, go slow, swerve here and there. Some are a little more odd... the pet owners that have dogs and cats everywhere in their vehicles... how you drive with fido lying across your arms is beyond me... once I saw a woman with a bird on her head. Seriously. All I kept thinking was I wonder if she just walks around with bird poop on her head or makes sure she checks herself in the mirror every time she gets out of the car?

Today?

Well today I saw a man praying.

He was driving down 94 heading west, hands folded in prayer with heel of his hands on the middle part of the steering wheel, and his finger tips on the top... eyes half closed... praying...

I'm not religious, but I found myself praying just a little too....

"Jesus Christ! Seriously?! I hope that dude doesn't kill someone, maybe that's what he's praying for after he prays for enough money or whatever he thinks is worth praying for while speeding down the highway at 80mph with his hands barely on the steering wheel!"

Free Fallin'

My first weekend back from my vacation, stressing a bit about money, about boo starting kindergarten this fall, about boo lying and acting out by hitting her friends when she’s angry...something I’d expect from a 2 year old but not an almost 5 year old... (wondering where I dropped the ball?). Stressing about things that I need to get done to move forward in my life to stop stressing about money... just to stop stressing.....I was a bit on overload, on the verge of feeling overwhelmed, that there’s just not enough time to get everything done. A little like the scene in a thriller where the girl has fallen on the edge of a cliff and she’s hanging on by some small straggle of a root that somehow as tiny as it is, has enough strength to keep her from plunging to her death.

Thankful for my little root...the tiny things in life, that keep me holding on... even letting go, to see where the free fall takes me....

Back to Reality

I'm home, got back around 3:30 yesterday, it was fabulous, and perfect, and fabulous.... now I'm trying to wrap my brain around normal life again... it seems to be sputtering, refusing the transition.

I MISS MY BOO!!!! I can't wait to see her, but I have to, I have to wait until I'm done with work tonight at 4..... I MISS MY BOO!!!! I just want to squish her and squeeze her and kiss her and never let her go!

All work and no play....

My eyes are blurry.

I've been working non stop, learning non stop it's awesome...but...

It's time to stop!!

I'm going to Vegas tomorrow. As of 2pm I will be somewhere fabulous in Vegas, liquid happy in hand.

I need the break.


Now if I could just get the mobile blogging figured out, I could post shiny happy pictures of my fabu trip here... *Le Sigh*

My Thank You

Here's my Thank You to The Dude...

It's how I felt walking out of his office Wed....



I was originally designing it to be the cover of a Thank You Card that I was going to print out and hand write a thank you, but he beat me to it... I got home yesterday and there was a thank you from HIM in my email!!!

Sweet Inspiration!

The meeting with The Dude was fantastical!!!

Thank you all for your support and words of encouragement.

I am super stoked, slightly overwhelmed, amazed, happy, and looking through those rose colored glasses I love so much to the hopefully very near future.

I have it.

I had it.

I just forgot that I did.

It's amazing how much better life feels when I actually take a trip through that cage door.

I hope you find the courage to go through yours...

... back to work for me.. I've got a shit-ton of stuff to do, but I've been given a great opportunity here, depending on the work I put into it, is the success that's attainable....

I iz a bizzy gurl.....

“Over-preparation is the foe of inspiration”

So.. I should be leaving work in about 10min... to promptly run home and try the new USB cable I bought at lunch, since the new one I bought last night and plugged into my shiny new tech toys didn't work.....*Le sigh*

Cyd called... she's going to the Duplex.

MMmmmmm the duplex.

Can I bring boo? Do they have wifi? Boo's diggin on Barbie.com right now...

NO! No no.... Nix... go home plug in the printer to the 'puter, print your shit.. you meet The Dude tomorrow night

BUT! BUT!.... but..... butt..... I want to..... awwwww.. SHIT! FINE!
I'll go home, print my stuff and THEN go to the Duplex, have a glass o wine, and fret about meeting The Dude tomorrow.

Umm... not exactly what I had in mind but, it should work, I guess... you do realize this is called sabotaging yourself right?

Awww.... it'll be fine. What's that saying I like?....“Over-preparation is the foe of inspiration”

Yeah and who said that?

Napoleon Bonaparte.

Riiiight.

Shit.

Who knew?

Wow, You're a Jack Russell Terrier!

Jack Russell Terrier

The Artist

You, my friend, are an artiste! Fuelled by a hounding sense of creativity and an untameable desire to express yourself, you see the world through rose-colored glasses one day and then wrestle the curtains closed and turn off the lights so you can ponder life the next. Your dog-eared journal is filled with brilliant ideas about rescuing the universe, yet you have trouble training your noggin on any one of them for any significant amount of time. Your originality occasionally manifests itself as performance art, and you love showing off your amazing athletic abilities in front of an audience. When it comes to taking on the leader of the pack, you’re not afraid to sink your teeth in - and won't loosen your grip until you've gotten your point across.

Fear

I'm wondering if I received a little extra helping of this emotion?

You see I think I've kept myself from doing things in my life because of fear.

Fear that I will screw it up for boo.
Fear that I will lose boo.
Fear that I am not good enough.
Fear that I will fail.

I have been given an opportunity on Wednesday to meet with someone to advance my career as a graphic artist, and guess what?

Yep, scared shit-less.

Scared that he's going to laugh me right out of his office in fact. You see it's not that I think I'm lacking in the talent department really... I mean I'm good, I win awards, but I still sometimes don't believe that I'm good, and for some reason I've just managed to fool the people I work with into believing that I'm worthy of the awards I've won.

I'm also feeling a little fear from the fact that I don't know flash or dreamweaver, and I've really only done print ads for YEARS... I'm talking boring, bang your head on your desk, shove 10lbs. of shit in a 2lb bag, L7 print ads... with an occasional "do whatever you want" thrown in. (which are the ones I usually win the awards for)....


ooooh...

but....

to even think about having that cage door opened..... will I have the guts to fly out? Or will I sit there afraid to fly?

I don't have my portfolio ready. Probably because I don't have the "right" stuff to put into it... just the boring print ads.....I know one thing for sure... if I don't change my thinking right this instant, I won't fly... I'll sit here.... I'll sit here until my brain turns to mush, my ass looks even more like my chair every day, and boo and I never own our own home because I don't make enough money to do it, and her dad can continue to call us up saying he's going to cut the child support and throw me into that "Oh fuck, how are we going to make it now" mode...

Get off your ass Nix, it's time to move.

Beware the Penis Snatcher!

Boyz... there's a Penis Snatcher on the loose in the Congo!



By Joe Bavier Tue Apr 22, 1:24 PM ET See the whole story on yahoo.com

KINSHASA (Reuters) - Police in Congo have arrested 13 suspected sorcerers accused of using black magic to steal or shrink men's penises after a wave of panic and attempted lynchings triggered by the alleged witchcraft.

"It's real. Just yesterday here, there was a man who was a victim. We saw. What was left was tiny," said 29-year-old Alain Kalala, who sells phone credits near a Kinshasa police station.

"I'm tempted to say it's one huge joke," Oleko said.

"But when you try to tell the victims that their penises are still there, they tell you that it's become tiny or that they've become impotent. To that I tell them, 'How do you know if you haven't gone home and tried it'," he said.

You don't need to change a thing about you babe, from where I sit you're one of a kind.

I don't know.

I don't know the answer to your question.

I don't even know the answer to mine.

But I do know that when I look at life as a destination, an end, a "I'm supposed to be here at this point in my life, and this point at another point" I am utterly disappointed.

I find it strange that I have to keep reminding myself that life is a journey, it's not a destination.

I know it's not.

But then I forget...

The perfect job will not make me happier.
The perfect weight/body image will not make me happier (I've been bigger than I am and smaller than I am and have never been completely satisfied)
The perfect relationship will not make me happier.

There is not a point in life that you can just sit and not move forward. There will never be a time where something won't come up that you have to "deal" with. There will never be a time where I have everything I'm supposed to and life will be magically easy.

Life is about living, not existing.

It's about the moments...all of them.

If you are constantly wishing it was different, you're constantly missing out on what's right in front of you.

I'm exactly where I'm "supposed" to be.
I can't make more time than I have, and the time that I have I refuse to wish I was doing something else with.

It's strange how just that way of thinking can change how I feel about myself and life itself. Peaceful, content, happy.

Here's hoping you find yourself living whatever moment you're in.

Ahhhh.. Memories....

The Water Cooler: The Unexplained

Peggy I love you and I hope you are doing fabulously.

I will miss the shennanigans this year! :-(

"Learn 5 Sexy Tips".....

...read the headline of the internet ad, posted above the tiny red bikini clad almost anorexic model.
Her face not pictured, just neck to mid-thigh.. you know... the Important parts of YOU.

Really? Let me guess... probably something about quick weight loss, a tiny black dress, moisturizing tips, sex tips to please your man, make-up, hair products, make your lips look fuller, make your ass look smaller, liposuction, botox, blah blah blah blah blah!

I've got 5 Sexy Tips for you....and none of them involve purchasing anything.

1. Be Smart... have a brain... engage people with your conversation...even if they obviously can't stop staring at your tits.... any witty intellectual girl would bring their obvious distraction into the conversation.. whilst using it as a test.

What? you say...

Yes.. it's simple... without changing your inflection or rhythym of your speech, just interject the worlds "tits" into your conversation..like... say you were talking about your work... and just let it slip... end it with a "So... what' do you think abou-t-it-s?" Ya know... kinda slurred together... and see if you get a reaction... good fun! (or maybe it's just me..)

Seriously though... be smart...stop buying everything they are telling you... cuz they are only telling you you're not good enough just so you'll BUY their shit.
Stop being so concerned about how you look. Stop buying everything they are telling you... cuz they are only telling you you're not good enough just so you'll BUY their shit.

2. Be Strong....mentally and physically. Stop trying to please everyone else and please yourself. Keep learning, whatever it is... a new hobby, a new book, a new theory...THINK for YOURSELF. Stand up for what you believe is right.
Take time to eat right and exercise if that's your thing. I'm not saying kill yourself to be a super model, this is not about how you look. I am saying don't be so weak you can't go out for a walk or a swim and enjoy the sun... don't be so out of shape that it will stop you from doing things you used to do, or that you want to do.

When my body feels strong, my mind feels strong.


3. Be Independent....have your own flippin life... don't automatically drop your friends or your "me" time, or your hobbies just because Mr/Mrs wonderful came into your life. No one person can be everything to another person.

There is nothing less sexy than needy.
"If you go out with your friends well then whatever shall I do?" utters the tiny red bikini clad almost anorexic model who has bought into the media's idea of sexy....

...and Mr Wonderful thinks... "um.. I don't know what the hell did you do before I came along?" and contemplates what makes you interesting in the first place.....

4. Be Adventurous... keep living... try new things... growing.. moving forward, you'll always have something interesting to talk about. And I don't mean you have to go sky diving.
Go out... go to a new restaurant, go to a new park, go to a new club, listen to new music, read something that's not on the best seller list.. you get the idea.

5. Be Confident... no matter what or who you are. That also means don't try to be something you are not, there is no confidence in wishing you were someone else... NONE. Love who you are, love what makes you unique, hell love your shape... it's yours, yours alone.. I'm no where near perfect, but no one else looks like me either.



There.

5 Sexy Tips from me. that YOU already new, but accidentally forgot about because of all of the brainwashing ads that you've seen. Stop believing them, start looking in the mirror, you've already got what they're selling... you don't need it.


That'll be $500, I accept pay-pal.

I'm stuck.

Between waking and dreaming, doing neither.

I think it has a lot to do with being stuck at my desk for 8 hours a day with very minimal work coming through, it's brain numbing, and what's worse is I'm not good at busy work.

I can't fake it.

Maybe I just don't want to fake it.

I want to do something....anything... well not anything... but you get my drift.

I'm just not good at it.

I'm not good at sitting to begin with, but sitting and not having anything to actually do, well... that makes for a very pissy nixie.

So... people.... what do you do with a Pissy Nixie?

"Johnny?.... It's June.....I think I'm ready."

I find it interesting really.

This magic this phrase "Point of View"....or..."Perspective" seems to have.

"It's all in your perspective" s/he says arrogantly

What does that really mean?

That it's ok as long as if from your POV it was harmless, and no one got hurt, but from someone else's POV, they see that someone did get hurt and they are telling you it's you...yet from your POV you don't seem hurt, or injured or any less of anything really, actually maybe even a little happier, that is, until "they" tell you about their POV.

Head swimming yet? Cuz really we could go 'round and round again, with any subject...

P.O.V.

I think it should be more "People Of Vanity" or "Perpetual Oscillating Vacillation" vs. Point of View.

Because really doesn't it all come down to a judgment call then?

Or manipulation?

Here's a famous POV....

Clinton admitted that he lied to the American people and that he had had "inappropriate intimate contact" with Lewinsky. .........."I did not have sexual relations with that woman, Miss Lewinsky" in a nationally televised White House news conference. The line later became famous for its technical truthfulness but deceptive nature, based on one's definition of "sexual relations."

"ones definition" = POV

All this blathering is a result of too much time, and really not understanding the way most people think, or choose to live by seemingly getting joy and building their egos by cutting down others while hiding behind the fact that it's from "my point of view."

Guess what? Your Point of View, is your OPINION it holds no higher ground than anyone else's.... get over it.

Belch... someone bring me some funny.

and he said....

You don't need to change
A thing about you babe
I'm telling you from where I sit
You're one of a kind

Relationships I dont know why
They never work out and they make you cry
But the guy that says goodbye to you
is out of his mind

I've been down and I need your help
I've been feelin' sorry for myself
Don't hesitate to boost my confidence

Well I've been lost and I need direction
I could use a little love protection
What you say honey come to my defense

I stand up for you if it's what you need
And I can take a punch, I don't mind to bleed
As long as afterwards you feel bad for me

You give me all of your attention
I've got deep desire and it needs quenching
I that's pretty lame for you to see

well enough about me and more about you
Because that'd be the gentlemanly thing to do
I hope you like your men sweet and nice

I thought I was done with telling you
But I ain't nearly halfway through
I've got a few more things Id like to say to you

You dont need to change
A thing about you babe
I'm telling you from where I sit
You're one of a kind

Relationships I dont know why
They never work out and they make you cry
But the guy that says goodbye to you
is out of his mind, his mind

You always did kinda drive me crazy
And it pissed me off cuz I let it phase me
But I never wanted my time with you to end

Now I'm back in town for a day or two
Mostly I came back just to see you
And even now, I dont want to go

You dont need to change
A thing about you babe
I'm telling you from where I sit
You're one of a kind

Relationships I dont know why
They never work out and they make you cry
But the guy that says goodbye to you
is out of his mind

Stories for the insomniac Boyz and Gurlz

It's 2:49 am and I've been awake now since a little after 1am.

I have been sick for 2.5 weeks... and just starting to feel better this evening, so what's my prize? Well a sleepless night of course!

UGH!

So what do you do when you can't sleep?

I decided I'd hop online since I really haven't been since monday.. oh yeah... I'm making all sorts of sense aren't I? Wooo hoooo.... wow... I'd really stop reading if I were you because it's NOT going to get any more entertaining from here on out.. I"m really just writing to hopefully maybe get some thoughts outta my head.. ya know.. kinda like that song... whatever it's called... ya know....
"2 AM and I'm still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper, its no longer
inside of me, threatening the life they belong to
And i feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them, however you want to"

I know that you'll use them however you want to..... I know that you'll use them however you want to.... *sigh*

Why are people so vindictive?

I'm not getting my thoughts out... fuck this sucks.. I have to get some sleep!!! Good lord... send me a pink pony with sparkly wings that poops sleeping pills so I can close my eyes and stop dreaming while I'm awake.... are you nuts? really? I wanna lay my head down and hear your heartbeat...

Whoo are you? WhooOOOOH!

Blarbby blarrbby blarbby blarb... I've got a loverly bunch of cocaNUTS doo doo doot dadodooooooooo.....

I suppose I could masturbate, I hear that's supposed to help you sleep... hmmmm.... I'm thinking of Guin right now.... Once upon a time, in the land of extreme sadness I was crippled by my tears and the loverly angel Guin was consoling me... she said "When you can't stop crying, masturbate." I wonder if that works for when you can't shut your brain off too?

See I don't think so...

"um.. excuse me Mr/Mrs. Universe? I'd really like to be sleeping right now, and I do know that when I have been in a relationship before and not sleeping, I tire myself out....well my partner AND myself out... ahem... but anyway... could you stop being so freaking cruel and leave me wide awake in the middle of the night with no "exercise" partner????!!!!

I am officially pissed off at you right now! Sticking my tongue out and all.. stopping my foot.. hands firmly on hips..... HURRRRRMPH!!!!!

AWwww... fuck fuck fuckity fuck!..... I picked up that saying while back stage for Black Comedy... I played Mrs. Furnival. It was a great role... good play... great ensemble cast thing.... but we would be backstage and always try to break each other right before our entrances on stage.. (I know uber professional) anyway... I mooned Tom, and he broke a little, not a lot, but behind me I hear in an exasperated whisper.. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck... from the stage manager... and I immediately thought OH SHIT... I've pissed off the Stage Manager... Not a good thing, because really they are the shit... they have your back, they have your props, they have your cues... yep not a good thing.... but luckily she thought I was funny, she was fuck fuck fuckity fucking the fact that her flashlight just died..... and that boys and girls is the story of fuck fuck fuckity fuck.... which brings me to the Jehovahs (however the fuck you spell that) witness that used to sit next to me at work (she's retired now) but she was uber religious of course, and well, let's face it, I'm not.... AND I swear.... AND I take the Lords name in vain.... (whatever that means) Well I used to say every once in a while under my breath the old "fuck fuck fuckity fuck" and she'd sit quietly and the most she'd ever do would be to sigh heavily... you know passive agressiveness at it's finest.

Well one day she had the idea of making a swear jar... every time you swore you had to put money in the jar, and of course I refused to play... or pay....

She decided she would pay for me.... I found this out one loverly afternoon while working, and something happened that I deemed necessary cause for a swear word and not 2 seconds later .... SMACK! Cold Metal hits me right on the forehead!!!!!

Yep... this good christian women was pelting me with quarters!!!!!

And that boys and girls is why you should always swear if you are in need of quarters for the soda machine, as I often find myself.... ahh... but now she's gone and I have to go to the soda machine and try to stick my crumpled up dollar bills in the changer thingy on the soda machine.... I don't know who invented that little piss me off and make my eyes bleed contraption, but thank you for adding to the frustration in offices, hospitals, and auto repair shops everywhere!!!!!

They should just put a midget in there instead, they can make change even if the dollar bill is crumpled.... (oh calm down... it's fucking 3:14 in the goddamn morning, I am NOT capable of being PC)

Hello... Mr./Ms. Univerise? I"M still awake!!!!

awwww... fuck fuck fuckity fuck!

This isn't working, I think I'll try Guin's advice.

Do you ever find yourself thinking negatively... then saying to yourself...

"Self. That's enough of that shit, it's time to focus on the positive, cuz there's a lot of it."

.... only to find yourself less than 5 minutes later still obsessing on the obsession that doesn't even have enough of an effect on your life to be worthy of obsession status.. yet there you are... you and self... having it out... and god dammit I feel a little like Peter Pan chasing my shadow only it's even more elusive...the negative thoughts..... the negative me.

BASTAGE!!!!

It's too hard for me. (This is part 2 of "Hands")

There we were, crying, hugging each other, while the other kids stared, pointed and snickered.

I was in the seventh grade, geeky, unsure of myself, constantly fighting with my alcoholic father, one moment feeling sorry for my mother, the next disgusted for her lack of self respect.

The one constant in my life, the one person that was near that I knew loved me unconditionally and showed it was just diagnosed with cancer. My mom, being more the child than the mother, just heard the news at the hospital where Ma had just gotten out of a surgery to remove a hernia that had bothered her for years. She drove immediately to my school and walked in crying uncontrollably and found me by my locker.

"She's just full of cancer Linda" she managed through sobs.

As I put my arms around her to console her, I felt the air leave my chest, and the fear take root.

"What?" I said barley audible.

"She's full of cancer, she's dying. She's going to die." She said loudly through tears and the snot running down her face.

I felt helpless. I felt smaller than I ever thought possible, I wanted to turn inside out and disappear, leave when she left, the one person I knew that loved me could not leave me... what would I do? Who would want me? Who would be there for me? Who would CARE about me?... my thoughts raced through my mind coming faster, spinning, I wanted to run.

The sound of snickering brought me back.

I looked around, I saw the laughing faces, the rolling eyes.... and I cried. I cried with my mom and let the hot tears sting my cheeks without moving to wipe them away. I had to get out of here, I had to get my mom out of here.

She never complained you know.

She went through a couple of years of chemo, but did not complain. Not through the vomiting, the hair loss, the massive weight loss, nothing.

We never painted our nails anymore.

I spent more time at her house than my own, mostly to escape my father. She knew it, and always tried to let me know that he was the bastard, it wasn't me. We would talk about everything, and nothing, and sometimes just sit together in silence, or like any typical teen I would veg out at the movies on TV.

One summer day she was at the kitchen table sewing. I walked in, and there she was, hands deformed by arthritis, her body brittle and small, ravaged by the ever present cancer, and she was grasping the cloth the best she could ripping out the seems she had just sewn in, as the tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Ma?... can I help you?"

"I just can't get it right, my hands don't work right anymore."

"Ma?.. can I help you?"

"No.. I need to do this. It has to get done."

"You're making more dish towels? You don't have to make those, we don't need anymore, or we can buy some."

She was sobbing softly now "I have to get these done I have to do it."

She wouldn't let me help her, and I was angry that she wouldn't just stop, I couldn't understand why she wouldn't just stop doing it, there was no reason for it.

She was moved to a nursing home later that year, and I visited only a handful of times.

It was too hard for me. It was too hard to see her like that, I wanted to remember her lively, silly, joking, laughing with me... not that hollowed out shell lying in pain on the nursing home bed. The last time I visited her I told her I got a great part in the one act play.

Me.

It was too hard for me.

She died there, while I was out celebrating Easter with my new escape, my new person I thought would love me my boyfriend whom I latched onto with everything I had.

It was too hard for me.

Years later, as I was at my wedding shower and the last gift was passed to me to open, I read the card.

"To Linda"
-"Love always, Ma"

As I tore open the wrapping paper I saw the dish towels that she had pushed herself to finish....she worked through the pain in her hands and body..... and my tears fell.... and I thought with regret, and shame, and pain that it was too hard for me.

I love you Ma.... Miss Ella Sophia Peterson... I am so sorry.

Hands

It's her hands that I remember the most.

Not because her eyes didn't shine with the love she felt for me, or her smile wasn't warm and contagious, because they were, but it's her hands that after all of this time that I remember the most.

The fingernails always painted. A ritual she shared with my sister and I. It was a treat, and I can still smell the strong scent of polish as I see the memory in my minds eye. We'd sit at the small table in the tiny mid-west farm house that felt more like home than my own. She'd let us pick out a color and try to paint our own but was always there with help if we needed it. I was always fascinated by the ease in which she managed the brush spreading the color only on the nail and not the actual finger. To this day, I still think of her every time I paint my nails. In fact, now that I think about it I often find that when I feel lonely or aching for something I can't seem to name, I am often driven to find a new color at the local target.

I wonder... am I hoping that the as the new bright color spreads across my nail, hope and comfort will soon follow?

She wore rings you know.

A ring on almost every finger and she never took them off. It wasn't because she didn't wish to change them, but for the most part they had become part of her in more ways than one. In her old age, she became burdened with arthritis, and her knuckles became swollen and deformed and even though you could spin the rings round and round her weathered fingers you could not get them past her painful knuckles.

I would sit on her lap, and she would rest her hands in my lap her arms around me, and I was content for as long as she'd have me there. I would play with her hands, study the wrinkles and the lines, inspect with awe the gaudy giant rings and beg her to let me try them on. I remember pulling on the weathered skin, wondering why it was so "loose" I could squeeze it together to form a raised line on the back of her hand, and watch as it very slowly went back to it's normal shape.

"Ma? Why is your skin so loose? Look what I can do with it."

"Ahh." she'd grumble. "I'm old."

And it hit me.

It hit me with a force so hard it seemed I would never be able to catch another breath for as long as I lived. I was suffocating.

Some day she would not be here.

Some day I would be without her.

Some day I would not have her to love me, who's arms would comfort me then?