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.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
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.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
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.
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.
Friday, April 18, 2008
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! :-(
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.
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.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
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?
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?
Monday, April 14, 2008
"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.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
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.
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.
Friday, April 04, 2008
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!!!!
"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!!!!
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
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?
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?
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Chronicles.... "Denial"
Denial
Im not sure why, and right now Im wondering if its passed down from generation to generation or if it is fact nurture. But guilt and denial run rampant in the women in our family.
Im thinking it might be a little bit of both.
I have lived seeking confidence in how others view me, and paralyzed by the fear that somehow I am not good enough and unfortunately I think Ive learned this from my mother.
As a child I watched her be humiliated by my alcoholic father. He not only cheated on her but was verbally and physically abusive towards her. I dont think that this is an excuse for living my life a certain way, or continuing to make bad choices, but I do think that in the area of learning what relationships are or are supposed to be, I started at a slight disadvantage.
When things started to get to the point where I couldnt ignore them anymore with Edrick, I didnt even think of standing up for myself and telling him to fuck off. Instead I wondered what was wrong with me, why I wasnt good enough.
I remember being out with him at a restaurant or walking down the street, and he would brazenly gawk at other women. When Id ask him what he was looking at hed make up this ridiculous story about how he had done some really bad things when he lived by New Ulm, and people were out for him, so he needed to watch his back.
I said Oh theyre sending out attractive females to hurt you?
He replied through anger Theyre going to send people that wouldnt make me suspect them
(or some other bullshit like that).
He told me a story about one of his best friends, who was a girl, from his early teen years. She had a crush on one of the popular kids in school and eventually got to go on a date with this kid. After the date, the popular kid ridiculed her to the point of depression.
A few days later Edrick found the girl in the woods where they used to hang out.
She had locked herself into an abandoned car and set it on fire, killing herself.
Edrick and his best friend hatched a plan to make this guy pay for what he had done. He was a known drug user so they grabbed him one night and gave him an overdose of heroin. The authorities ruled it an accidental overdose, and essentially they got away with murder.
......Now you may be asking yourself what the hell I was thinking because obviously I didnt run away from him right then and there.
I dont know.
Looking back I remember thinking this has got to be a bullshit story. But why would anyone say anything like that? Trying to make himself seem bigger than life I suppose. Why did I stick around someone who would lie like that?
That sad part of the truth of this, is as bad as it was for him to lie, and as transparent as his lies were, I refused to see past them. I didnt want to think I had run from one bad situation directly into another, especially how shamefully I left the first one.
I didnt want to think that this person I had such a strong connection with could be as crappy as he was showing me he was. I wanted to believe that he was as wonderful as the connection or chemistry between us made me feel.
Basically I was looking outside of myself for my happiness, seeing only what I wanted to. I had an idea in my head of how he was, and damn it, he wasnt going to be this liar, this cheat that he was showing me he was... I wasnt going to see that and no one could make me.
But I did see.
I did feel.
And when I sat in silence with myself, I heard my screams.
I deserve better,
I am better,
and still I stifled it.
We were on again off again for another year. When I could no longer ignore who he was, when I had people telling me to my face that he was cheating, when I was ashamed to be around my friends, and the cast for the show I was in, I found myself once again looking at the face of the monsters within.
Im not sure why, and right now Im wondering if its passed down from generation to generation or if it is fact nurture. But guilt and denial run rampant in the women in our family.
Im thinking it might be a little bit of both.
I have lived seeking confidence in how others view me, and paralyzed by the fear that somehow I am not good enough and unfortunately I think Ive learned this from my mother.
As a child I watched her be humiliated by my alcoholic father. He not only cheated on her but was verbally and physically abusive towards her. I dont think that this is an excuse for living my life a certain way, or continuing to make bad choices, but I do think that in the area of learning what relationships are or are supposed to be, I started at a slight disadvantage.
When things started to get to the point where I couldnt ignore them anymore with Edrick, I didnt even think of standing up for myself and telling him to fuck off. Instead I wondered what was wrong with me, why I wasnt good enough.
I remember being out with him at a restaurant or walking down the street, and he would brazenly gawk at other women. When Id ask him what he was looking at hed make up this ridiculous story about how he had done some really bad things when he lived by New Ulm, and people were out for him, so he needed to watch his back.
I said Oh theyre sending out attractive females to hurt you?
He replied through anger Theyre going to send people that wouldnt make me suspect them
(or some other bullshit like that).
He told me a story about one of his best friends, who was a girl, from his early teen years. She had a crush on one of the popular kids in school and eventually got to go on a date with this kid. After the date, the popular kid ridiculed her to the point of depression.
A few days later Edrick found the girl in the woods where they used to hang out.
She had locked herself into an abandoned car and set it on fire, killing herself.
Edrick and his best friend hatched a plan to make this guy pay for what he had done. He was a known drug user so they grabbed him one night and gave him an overdose of heroin. The authorities ruled it an accidental overdose, and essentially they got away with murder.
......Now you may be asking yourself what the hell I was thinking because obviously I didnt run away from him right then and there.
I dont know.
Looking back I remember thinking this has got to be a bullshit story. But why would anyone say anything like that? Trying to make himself seem bigger than life I suppose. Why did I stick around someone who would lie like that?
That sad part of the truth of this, is as bad as it was for him to lie, and as transparent as his lies were, I refused to see past them. I didnt want to think I had run from one bad situation directly into another, especially how shamefully I left the first one.
I didnt want to think that this person I had such a strong connection with could be as crappy as he was showing me he was. I wanted to believe that he was as wonderful as the connection or chemistry between us made me feel.
Basically I was looking outside of myself for my happiness, seeing only what I wanted to. I had an idea in my head of how he was, and damn it, he wasnt going to be this liar, this cheat that he was showing me he was... I wasnt going to see that and no one could make me.
But I did see.
I did feel.
And when I sat in silence with myself, I heard my screams.
I deserve better,
I am better,
and still I stifled it.
We were on again off again for another year. When I could no longer ignore who he was, when I had people telling me to my face that he was cheating, when I was ashamed to be around my friends, and the cast for the show I was in, I found myself once again looking at the face of the monsters within.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Chronicles.... "When We Met"
When we met
I met him at the first rehearsal for “The Rocky Horror Show” I had gotten the lead and he was to play “Rocky”.
I was unimpressed the first time I saw him, I actually thought he looked a little like a monkey, and was too loud, trying too hard. But.... there was something about him. Something that made me want to know more, yet at the same time, there was this knowing, this feeling that he was.... well, wrong.
My first thoughts during that first rehearsal were that he was a player (which he turned out to be) insecure (which I still believe he is, and I felt bad for him) and immature.
Despite all of this, there was this “electricity” between us, this chemistry that everyone else around us felt and commented on.
I was at the end of a failing 7 year abusive marriage. I was depressed, and theatre was my life line, it was the only reason I had for getting up each morning. I had been in 7 productions in the last year, trying to hold onto my passion for life, trying to run from the monsters within. I didn’t know it then, but I was running toward them at the speed of light.
Everyone thought Edrick and I were an item before anything had actually happened, I loved the idea of it. Being around him was like being energized, seeing things for the first time again. He made me feel like I was the most beautiful, amazing woman in the world.
I cheated on my husband with Edrick one night after rehearsal. He called me the next day and my husband answered the phone. I couldn’t believe it. I was sick to my stomach. I couldn’t believe this was my life. I was cheating. I wasn’t happy, the counseling had failed, the abuse had continued, and I had found another way out. Edrick.
I am not proud of how I exited that marriage. Yes he was abusive, yes he was cheating too (which I only came to find out about after I left), but that doesn’t make it ok for me to do what I did, and I am deeply sorry for how I finally left. That said, I do not regret leaving, I should’ve left long before I actually did.
I told my husband I had met someone else, packed my two suitcases and left (for the 3rd and final time). I was too ashamed to stay at my friends, and already addicted to Edrick. I moved in with him and his roommate until I found a job and an apartment.
This was at the end of October, by the middle of November he proposed (to which I thought he had to be joking) and by the end of November Edrick was sleeping with his ex J., telling me they were just friends. I knew in my heart he was cheating, but I didn’t want to believe it. Or maybe I thought I deserved it for how I left my husband.
There were plenty of signs, if I would have only actually looked, and been willing to see.
He said J. couldn’t know about me “because it would hurt her too much”
He could explain anything away, or rather I let him.
I listened to everything he told me, and wanted to believe him.
I found another place to live but still stayed with him most of the time, or he stayed at my new place.
We eventually moved into a house together, and things got worse.
He was cheating on 3 of us; me, J and another girl “T”, and who knows how many others.
T. and I eventually became friends, and still are to this day. I have been ashamed to be around T for a very long time. And I didn’t realize that was why I was avoiding her. But in the last year I looked at the situation, quieted myself, and realized I was embarrassed that I was still involved with him.
She was strong, wasn’t fooled by his lies, and had enough self respect to tell him to get bent when he treated her shitty, and when she found out what he was telling me, while he was sleeping with her.
I wanted to be her for that moment. For as much as I talked big about how I was going to dump him and never ever go back when we had our little talk and found out the lies he was telling both of us, I didn’t. I went back, felt shitty every time I saw him, but did it anyway. I’m still not sure why. That part I have not figured out yet, and I need to.
I think I’m getting closer to that every day.
I met him at the first rehearsal for “The Rocky Horror Show” I had gotten the lead and he was to play “Rocky”.
I was unimpressed the first time I saw him, I actually thought he looked a little like a monkey, and was too loud, trying too hard. But.... there was something about him. Something that made me want to know more, yet at the same time, there was this knowing, this feeling that he was.... well, wrong.
My first thoughts during that first rehearsal were that he was a player (which he turned out to be) insecure (which I still believe he is, and I felt bad for him) and immature.
Despite all of this, there was this “electricity” between us, this chemistry that everyone else around us felt and commented on.
I was at the end of a failing 7 year abusive marriage. I was depressed, and theatre was my life line, it was the only reason I had for getting up each morning. I had been in 7 productions in the last year, trying to hold onto my passion for life, trying to run from the monsters within. I didn’t know it then, but I was running toward them at the speed of light.
Everyone thought Edrick and I were an item before anything had actually happened, I loved the idea of it. Being around him was like being energized, seeing things for the first time again. He made me feel like I was the most beautiful, amazing woman in the world.
I cheated on my husband with Edrick one night after rehearsal. He called me the next day and my husband answered the phone. I couldn’t believe it. I was sick to my stomach. I couldn’t believe this was my life. I was cheating. I wasn’t happy, the counseling had failed, the abuse had continued, and I had found another way out. Edrick.
I am not proud of how I exited that marriage. Yes he was abusive, yes he was cheating too (which I only came to find out about after I left), but that doesn’t make it ok for me to do what I did, and I am deeply sorry for how I finally left. That said, I do not regret leaving, I should’ve left long before I actually did.
I told my husband I had met someone else, packed my two suitcases and left (for the 3rd and final time). I was too ashamed to stay at my friends, and already addicted to Edrick. I moved in with him and his roommate until I found a job and an apartment.
This was at the end of October, by the middle of November he proposed (to which I thought he had to be joking) and by the end of November Edrick was sleeping with his ex J., telling me they were just friends. I knew in my heart he was cheating, but I didn’t want to believe it. Or maybe I thought I deserved it for how I left my husband.
There were plenty of signs, if I would have only actually looked, and been willing to see.
He said J. couldn’t know about me “because it would hurt her too much”
He could explain anything away, or rather I let him.
I listened to everything he told me, and wanted to believe him.
I found another place to live but still stayed with him most of the time, or he stayed at my new place.
We eventually moved into a house together, and things got worse.
He was cheating on 3 of us; me, J and another girl “T”, and who knows how many others.
T. and I eventually became friends, and still are to this day. I have been ashamed to be around T for a very long time. And I didn’t realize that was why I was avoiding her. But in the last year I looked at the situation, quieted myself, and realized I was embarrassed that I was still involved with him.
She was strong, wasn’t fooled by his lies, and had enough self respect to tell him to get bent when he treated her shitty, and when she found out what he was telling me, while he was sleeping with her.
I wanted to be her for that moment. For as much as I talked big about how I was going to dump him and never ever go back when we had our little talk and found out the lies he was telling both of us, I didn’t. I went back, felt shitty every time I saw him, but did it anyway. I’m still not sure why. That part I have not figured out yet, and I need to.
I think I’m getting closer to that every day.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Preface to "The Chronicles I wish were of Narnia!"
I believe life puts before us things that if we work on will make us stronger better people.
I believe that we have or feel instant connections with certain people because of this. That said, sometimes there are people that you seek out that you want to journey this life with, and others are put before you to challenge you, to discover something about yourself or your life, and move on. The catch is, to me, sometimes you can’t tell the difference, but you can tell the connection. I also believe that if you don’t get things worked out, and struggle your way through it you will continue to meet the same type of person over and over until you have succeeded in the area you need to.
I believe there is a lesson put before me in Eric, the ex before him and the ex before him, etc. You see they all are very similar in nature. They are not here for me to say what’s wrong with them, but to see what is truly within me.
My best friend and I were talking one day about what I liked so much about the guys I’ve dated. One of my responses was “I love when they can look at you and make you feel like you are the best/prettiest/most amazing person in the world”
She promptly responded with “Hmm... yeah, I don’t get that, because I do that for myself”
I was floored, I had an “Oprah Ah Ha Moment” if you will.
I mean really... why did I look to others for that? I will never find that in someone else, it’s within me. I want to make sure I raise boo with that confidence, that strength, and so far so good. She looked at me this morning and said the best thing I have ever heard her say. We were talking about what she wanted to do with her hair this morning, I had aksed if she wanted her hair a certain way “like faiths” and she said... “No mama, I wanna look like ME!”
I believe the connection that I felt for Eric is more about me than it is about who he is as a person. I am at fault for letting him treat me the way he did, and for taking him back each time he treated me like shit. The first time was his bad, the following times were because of my lack of confidence in myself, my non-existant (at the time) sense of being the person I truly am. I see who he is as a person, and I don’t like him. I didn’t act on that, but the feeling of this connection with him, I thought it meant we were supposed to be together. I have grown a lot since I met him 6 years ago, I have surrounded myself with strong, caring, amazing individuals, who I am blessed to be able to call friends.
I am writing these “Chronicles” as more of a release for myself. And who knows maybe I will find something else in there that I’ve overlooked, and learn more about myself in the process. Please remember when you are reading these, (if you choose to :-P ) that it’s in the past, it may sound like the pain is new and fresh, but it’s my story... my release.
I believe that we have or feel instant connections with certain people because of this. That said, sometimes there are people that you seek out that you want to journey this life with, and others are put before you to challenge you, to discover something about yourself or your life, and move on. The catch is, to me, sometimes you can’t tell the difference, but you can tell the connection. I also believe that if you don’t get things worked out, and struggle your way through it you will continue to meet the same type of person over and over until you have succeeded in the area you need to.
I believe there is a lesson put before me in Eric, the ex before him and the ex before him, etc. You see they all are very similar in nature. They are not here for me to say what’s wrong with them, but to see what is truly within me.
My best friend and I were talking one day about what I liked so much about the guys I’ve dated. One of my responses was “I love when they can look at you and make you feel like you are the best/prettiest/most amazing person in the world”
She promptly responded with “Hmm... yeah, I don’t get that, because I do that for myself”
I was floored, I had an “Oprah Ah Ha Moment” if you will.
I mean really... why did I look to others for that? I will never find that in someone else, it’s within me. I want to make sure I raise boo with that confidence, that strength, and so far so good. She looked at me this morning and said the best thing I have ever heard her say. We were talking about what she wanted to do with her hair this morning, I had aksed if she wanted her hair a certain way “like faiths” and she said... “No mama, I wanna look like ME!”
I believe the connection that I felt for Eric is more about me than it is about who he is as a person. I am at fault for letting him treat me the way he did, and for taking him back each time he treated me like shit. The first time was his bad, the following times were because of my lack of confidence in myself, my non-existant (at the time) sense of being the person I truly am. I see who he is as a person, and I don’t like him. I didn’t act on that, but the feeling of this connection with him, I thought it meant we were supposed to be together. I have grown a lot since I met him 6 years ago, I have surrounded myself with strong, caring, amazing individuals, who I am blessed to be able to call friends.
I am writing these “Chronicles” as more of a release for myself. And who knows maybe I will find something else in there that I’ve overlooked, and learn more about myself in the process. Please remember when you are reading these, (if you choose to :-P ) that it’s in the past, it may sound like the pain is new and fresh, but it’s my story... my release.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Harmony Park
I had the most amazing weekend.
Camping at Harmony Park for the Big Wu Family Reunion.
I'll post more about it later, when I get more pics.
oh.
and.... "Clouds, are COOL!"
Thursday, May 11, 2006
One night...
There are some nights that are just too painful to think that you might just actually make it through them without going mental, and then, there are those nights that you can't believe it's 2 am and time to go home, cuz it feels like you just started out.
Cocky Bastard, and Nick the Dick
We saw these guys and I thought that the guy in the green shirt, must be a cocky bastard, But... cute. Mary decided she should explain this to him, and a couple of minutes later he walked up to me and introduced himself as "Cocky Bastard" to which I replied "Hi, I'm Judgemental Bitch"
"Um you bite what?"
This man, (otherwise known as Mary's Stalker) was extremely friendly, and was funny as hell when he was telling the story of the squirrel that broke into his apartment. But~ when he started to wonder outloud why not one girl he's given his phone number to in the last six months has returned his phone call, it started to get weird. Mary being the kind heart she is must have decided he needed to be saved, because she kept up the conversation, in which he started talking about biting.. you know... like vampires......
John Goodman's brother and the 3rd George Bush
Mr. John Goodman's brother is one smooooooth fellow. He tapped me on the shoulder as I was sitting next to him, with my back towards him at the bar and said "would you stop bumping into me" (I wasn't even close to him) He asked me what I did for a living, I told him I'm a graphic artist, and he insisted I was much to pretty, much better than that. So then he put his hand on my arm and said "Wow, you're strong"
And in my most serious voice I said, "Well, my secret's out, I'm actually a professional arm wrestler"
He was so impressed that later he had to introduce me to GWB the 3rd... who seems to be either sweating in odd spots or spills drinks frequently, or maybe he passed out to close to a urinal... ewwwww...
The awesome part is Cocky Bastard, and Nick the Dick turned out to be extremely cool guys, and I blame them for my pain......Seriously my cheeks hurt from laughing.
Why you may ask did I laugh so much?
We played such great games as show me your hottest look, which resulted in this:
Nick's sexy look
Bitch and the Bastard
The Bastard and the Dick
The Dick, the Bitch and the Bastard
It was a fun night, it was worth only getting a couple hours of sleep!
Mary and I, as always... good times
Cocky Bastard, and Nick the Dick
We saw these guys and I thought that the guy in the green shirt, must be a cocky bastard, But... cute. Mary decided she should explain this to him, and a couple of minutes later he walked up to me and introduced himself as "Cocky Bastard" to which I replied "Hi, I'm Judgemental Bitch"
"Um you bite what?"
This man, (otherwise known as Mary's Stalker) was extremely friendly, and was funny as hell when he was telling the story of the squirrel that broke into his apartment. But~ when he started to wonder outloud why not one girl he's given his phone number to in the last six months has returned his phone call, it started to get weird. Mary being the kind heart she is must have decided he needed to be saved, because she kept up the conversation, in which he started talking about biting.. you know... like vampires......
John Goodman's brother and the 3rd George Bush
Mr. John Goodman's brother is one smooooooth fellow. He tapped me on the shoulder as I was sitting next to him, with my back towards him at the bar and said "would you stop bumping into me" (I wasn't even close to him) He asked me what I did for a living, I told him I'm a graphic artist, and he insisted I was much to pretty, much better than that. So then he put his hand on my arm and said "Wow, you're strong"
And in my most serious voice I said, "Well, my secret's out, I'm actually a professional arm wrestler"
He was so impressed that later he had to introduce me to GWB the 3rd... who seems to be either sweating in odd spots or spills drinks frequently, or maybe he passed out to close to a urinal... ewwwww...
The awesome part is Cocky Bastard, and Nick the Dick turned out to be extremely cool guys, and I blame them for my pain......Seriously my cheeks hurt from laughing.
Why you may ask did I laugh so much?
We played such great games as show me your hottest look, which resulted in this:
Nick's sexy look
Bitch and the Bastard
The Bastard and the Dick
The Dick, the Bitch and the Bastard
It was a fun night, it was worth only getting a couple hours of sleep!
Mary and I, as always... good times
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