Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Be back soon
I have only added a few of the many I have already done, then will be updating daily! Stay tuned and feel free to comment with any ideas! <3
Crazy Girl
NO BASE
French tip: White out (Sally Hansen Hard as Nails Xtreme Wear)
Details: Hot Pink (SoEasy Stripe Rite)
Black (SoEasy Stripe Rite)
Silver Glitter (SoEasy Stripe Rite)
Add Ons: Pink fimo flowers
Becca's Toes
Base color: Fuchsia Power (Sally Hansen Hard as Nails Xtreme Wear)
Detail colors: Black (SoEasy Stripe Rite)
Silver Glitter (SoEasy Stripe Rite)
Add Ons : Black punch out stars <3
Poker night
Base color: Mellow Yellow (Sally Hansen Hard as Nails Xtreme Wear)
Detail colors: Dark Green ( SoEasy Stripe Rite)
Green Glitter (L.A. Colors Art Deco)
Black (SoEasy Stripe Rite)
Bright Ideas
My first attempt at any sort of nail art.
Base color - Avon (Don't recall the name)
Detail colors- Orange Alert (Sinful Colors Nail Art)
Dark Green (SoEasy Stripe Rite)
Green Glitter (L.A. Colors Art Deco)
Friday, September 2, 2011
What I have been up to
I am dating someone...have been for just about a month now. Things are going good. Taking it slow. Don't want to jinx anything by saying too much.
I have been doing nails. Not fake ones yet, but plan on taking my course in a few months. But I paint and design nails for my friends, family and myself. I love doing it and have had a few job offers for salons...just waiting to get certification and get things going! <3
I may start posting pictures and stuff on here soon. I also have a facebook page of some of my designs! <3
http://www.facebook.com/?ref=home#!/pages/Aprils-Nail-Art/136172886464024
Like it if you want... Thanks.
I have been doing nails. Not fake ones yet, but plan on taking my course in a few months. But I paint and design nails for my friends, family and myself. I love doing it and have had a few job offers for salons...just waiting to get certification and get things going! <3
I may start posting pictures and stuff on here soon. I also have a facebook page of some of my designs! <3
http://www.facebook.com/?ref=home#!/pages/Aprils-Nail-Art/136172886464024
Like it if you want... Thanks.
Friday, February 4, 2011
You are going to make it through.
In the last 2 weeks I have had a few of my friends tell me they are feeling very depressed. And I have talked to them about things I have only told a few people. I was ashamed of it for quite a while, but it made me a better stronger person so I am just going to put it out there.
October 2009 I lost a battle with depression. I had been down for almost a year, and first thought of it as a slump. I had never been depressed before. I am a pretty cheery person usually so I had no idea what was going on. There were days I didn't want to leave the house. Days when I would force myself to sleep for sometimes more than 24 hours just so I didn't have to deal with anything. Still I told myself it was just a bad day, maybe my period was coming...(Most girls get weepy a few days before) and so on.
I was living back at home in Sandy Creek at this point, and working full-time in Watertown, NY. I had closed myself off from most of my friends and though my mother could tell I was a little sad at times she didn't realize how bad it had gotten. It wasn't till my friend John and I sat down while talking about the PTSD symptoms he was dealing with from his tour overseas that I even spoke about it to anyone. We talked for hours, I believe I cried for a while...then called in sick the next day to work to take a 'mental health day'. It was a very fitting term. We went to his friend Joshs wedding at the courthouse, then went to the mall to buy him a Wii for a wedding gift. Now there is a mall in Watertown, but since I called in sick and my work was near there we drove all the way to the Carousel mall in Syracuse. The day was going fine until we started heading home. The plan was to stop and my home and grab 2 of my sister controllers for them to borrow so we could all play that night. But on out way home we started talking about what I was going through. And I finally admitted to my friend and myself what I couldn't before.
I want to stress right now that suicide is NOT the answer. But I felt myself say something like "I don't know what is wrong, but I know it's something. Because when you are driving home from work and a tree on the side of the road looks like a good option you are not okay." It wasn't a one time thought, at first it was and I would brush it off. But when you think about it randomly throughout the day no matter how silly it sounds to you it becomes scary. Now if you know me at all that would probably shock the hell out of you. I am not a girl who gets depressed. I am not the kind of girl who would ever consider suicide. I lost 2 very dear friends who were considered family to suicide. That's when I broke down. We arrived at my moms, I walked upstairs grabbed the Wii remotes and my mom was in the kitchen. I walked up to her and said "Mom, I need to tell you something. I think I need to see someone." She said "Like a psychiatrist?" And I nodded, she said okay and she would speak to my physician about a recommendation the next day. I told her that I didn't want to wait because I felt as if it was too late, and that would take too long. It was then if she asked if I was thinking about hurting myself, and the tears instantly streamed down my face while I nodded again. She wanted me to say with her, but my car was up on base at Fort Drum cause we took Johns SUV to the mall. She said she would call my doctor and see what we needed to do. I rode up to get my car, and mom called my father for me because I was too ashamed to tell him what I was going through.
On the way home my Father called me, and said that I needed to come stay the weekend with him and we could talk. He kept saying something like you owe it to me, and before you do anything rash. And I agreed. Then Mom called me and told me she spoke to my personal physician and that she was worried about me (we are all pretty close). When my mother told her I was going to get my car and drive home my doctor wanted my mother to call the troopers to pick me up instead to make sure I didn't hurt myself. But my mom knew better. She said "It's okay, she told me she would be home tonight. So she will be home." She also showed a lot of concer about me checking myself into the Mental Health ward because she said once I admit myself I can not be released until they feel I should be. And I took a deep breath and said "Well Mom, if they want to keep me there, then there would have to be a reason." I got home and spent about an hour or so laying in my moms room with her not hardly speaking just holding her and then I looked at her and said. "Mom, I need to go now." And she asked me if I was sure, and I nodded. I packed a bag and we hopped in the car.
I guess during regular office hours you can just go to OMH and speak to someone and get admitted. But being that it was about 11pm on a weekday that was not really an option. We went to the Oswego Emergency room and I had to peak to a few people who I didn't know and tell them that I was contemplating suicide. Not only did I feel ashamed for letting depression take over me, but I felt so vulnerable because I had to tell complete strangers (doctors, nurses, reception) that I was nothing but a scared little girl who was at the end of her rope. I sat in the waiting room, then waiting for a doctor, then sitting with a random nurse (who they told me was a precaution to make sure I didn't try to off myself while I was there) for 5 hours until my transportation came to bring me to OMH. Now if I had actually attempted suicide or was forced to go in this would make a lot more sense, but I admitted myself. While waiting with the nurse who was a year or so younger than I was my father came in to see me. He had to leave to go out of state for work in a few hours but he still came down to talk to me. I didn't expect him to be there for me the way he was. He never had been as concerned about me as he was that night.
I got to the hospital about 4am, and had to talk to so more strangers, get a few shots and tests and let them go through my luggage and take half my clothing and things because there were a risk. (Pajama pants with string ties, my iPhone -no cells or cameras allowed, my belt and many other items) By the time I got to finally go to sleep it was 5am.
Now I had seen Girl, Interrupted but I never knew how close that was to the reality of a mental hospital. I was in a room I had to share with a roommate who was already sleeping. Didn't know her name, why she was there or anything. Just when I went to lay in the bed they did "checks". Yup, they actually do checks every so many minutes that's not just in the movies. I somehow fell asleep (the medicine they gave me probably helped) and an hour later I was awoken when one of the people doing checks came in. I probably would have just fell right back to sleep but the door stayed open for longer then the first time and I heard my still unknown roommate say "What do you need?" to the staff member. Then I heard a familiar voice say "April?" I lifted my head to match the voice with a face and it was one of my brothers friends. "Bill?" I answered tiredly. And I sat up in my bed a bit, the sun had come out already but I was not ready to greet it. He said he was my name and was wondering how I was doing and what I was doing here. And I know it seems rude but I said "I am kind of regretting coming here now that you see me here." I didn't mean anything against him and he assured me he couldn't say anything to anyone about me being there. But I didn't mean it because I was worried about him saying something, I meant it because I was so ashamed to be there, that even though he wasn't a very close friend, he knew...and that killed me. He sat on the heating unit near my bed to try to have a conversation with me, and I think I may have been a bit snarky. I just remember saying "Bill, I just got here an hour ago and I really want to sleep can we talk later?" He respected that and said goodnight even though it was mornign and off he went.
People doing checks were in and out and I had already grown frustrated as to how much noise the fucking doors made when they opened and closed each time. But I still managed to sleep through breakfast, and lunch. They did wake me up for dinner where I walked in, ate and sat in a common area for all of 10 minutes feeling extremely uncomfortable until I once again retired to my room. The brought me my medicine later, and I took it and went back to sleep. Now I was a pack of day smoker at this point in my life, and they didn't inform me till I had already checked myself in that they had 2 times alloted per day to go to the patio and smoke (they were working to become smoke free which they have obtained now). These times were at 6am and 9pm. Which if you are a smoker, you will understand this statement....that alone could drive someone crazy. Now think of this. If you didn't wake up to go out in the morning, you were fucked until 9pm.
The 2nd day I woke up to take my medicine and they told me about smoking time, I ran out and chain smoked 3 Newport 100's turned down breakfast and went back to sleep till about 9 or 10 am. Besides a phone call I received on the common payphone from my mother, and then my father I had zero socialization. I didn't pack any books or anything because I thought if I took out my Sim card I would keep my iPhone to keep me occupied. I never even thought that they would take it because of the camera. So I had no entertainment. The TV was down near the mens rooms and almost always on sports. I sat in the common room being as quiet as possible just observing the people that surrounded me. I kept telling you this was a safe place, and I know I shouldn't pass judgement but there were some crazy people in there. People who heard voices and radios playing in their heads, people with no concept of personal space, ones who had anger issues. This was my 2nd day there, but my first day I left my room and if I had a book or something with me and a lock on that room door I think I would have hid in there the whole time. I knew a few of the other staff one was my best friends aunt, and another was a girl I went to High School with (we didn't get along back then either).
It wasn't till my 3rd day in that I walked by the black board in the girls common area and saw a box in the upper left corner that said "Beatles Songs" I spun around and asked an staff member if they wanted us to list Beatles songs on the basically empty board. She was and older woman with short gray hair and she kindly replied yes. I had found something to do. Something that could keep me occupied. I basically burnt through the chalk, before anyone had realized I had started the list I had about 40 songs down, and then another staff member came up and started helping me along. He and I actually became friends and I still speak to him. But he rattled off a bunch more, which made me remember more then finally some other patients joined in the fun. I wish I could remember how many songs we came up with, but I do remember we had trouble squeezing new ones on the board and it was pretty large. That was when I came out of my shell. I started talking to people, some were still pretty nuts to me. And I haven't really spoken to any of them since then but that day and that list helped me more than any talks with the therapists did.
I spent the rest of my time in there doing puzzles, lists on the board, and talking with the staff. Not so much the patients with the exception of one or two. I forged two new friendships with some staffers that I still maintain to this day. I learned a lot of things in there but most of all I learned that I never wanted to go back. There were some patients in there who had been there 9 times or more. I guess if you have nothing and no one it could be worse. They feed you 3 meals a day, do your laundry, provide you with a roof over your head, television to watch and all your medication. There were lots more stories from in there that I could tell and I was only there for a week, but this seems like a pretty long blog already.
So just a few more things and then I will wrap this up. After my stint at OMH, I had outpatient visits bi-weekly and went through 4 medications before things started to work. I have been off anti-depressants for close to a year now things are getting to be great. Sometimes you just need the stability the medicine gives you until you can figure out how to give that to yourself. It gets better, I had people tell me that when I was lost and I didn't believe them. I couldn't possibly fathom this feeling that had pushed me down so far ever going away, but it did. I know most people who read this probably aren't feeling any of these things I talked about but for the 1 or many who are I want to tell you this. Talk to a doctor, just say you are feeling a depression you have never felt before. Unless you have considered/attempted or are scared you might try suicide be sure to steer clear of that word though. Try your best not to put it off. In my case it started off as a bad day here and there, then a feeling of loneliness, hopelessness until I couldn't wait another minute to get help. I swear if it weren't for the fact that I knew it would kill my mother and my father would be disappointed in me I might have done it. It may sound nuts, but I am so lucky to have gone through that horrible low in my life because it really lets me see how far I have come and what I am capable of. To know that even though sometimes I am embarrassed to admit I fell victim to the depression I was strong enough to battle my way out of it. Yes medications were involved but I broke free of them and am standing tall now.
If you take nothing else away from this ridiculously long post please take this. Life is about changing, things weren't meant to be the same. Things won't be this way forever, I made it out of the darkness and you can make it through too. The best quote I can close this with is "You know the great thing, though, is that change can be so constant you don't even feel the difference until there is one. It can be so slow that you don't even notice that your life is better or worse, until it is." (Life as a House)
October 2009 I lost a battle with depression. I had been down for almost a year, and first thought of it as a slump. I had never been depressed before. I am a pretty cheery person usually so I had no idea what was going on. There were days I didn't want to leave the house. Days when I would force myself to sleep for sometimes more than 24 hours just so I didn't have to deal with anything. Still I told myself it was just a bad day, maybe my period was coming...(Most girls get weepy a few days before) and so on.
I was living back at home in Sandy Creek at this point, and working full-time in Watertown, NY. I had closed myself off from most of my friends and though my mother could tell I was a little sad at times she didn't realize how bad it had gotten. It wasn't till my friend John and I sat down while talking about the PTSD symptoms he was dealing with from his tour overseas that I even spoke about it to anyone. We talked for hours, I believe I cried for a while...then called in sick the next day to work to take a 'mental health day'. It was a very fitting term. We went to his friend Joshs wedding at the courthouse, then went to the mall to buy him a Wii for a wedding gift. Now there is a mall in Watertown, but since I called in sick and my work was near there we drove all the way to the Carousel mall in Syracuse. The day was going fine until we started heading home. The plan was to stop and my home and grab 2 of my sister controllers for them to borrow so we could all play that night. But on out way home we started talking about what I was going through. And I finally admitted to my friend and myself what I couldn't before.
I want to stress right now that suicide is NOT the answer. But I felt myself say something like "I don't know what is wrong, but I know it's something. Because when you are driving home from work and a tree on the side of the road looks like a good option you are not okay." It wasn't a one time thought, at first it was and I would brush it off. But when you think about it randomly throughout the day no matter how silly it sounds to you it becomes scary. Now if you know me at all that would probably shock the hell out of you. I am not a girl who gets depressed. I am not the kind of girl who would ever consider suicide. I lost 2 very dear friends who were considered family to suicide. That's when I broke down. We arrived at my moms, I walked upstairs grabbed the Wii remotes and my mom was in the kitchen. I walked up to her and said "Mom, I need to tell you something. I think I need to see someone." She said "Like a psychiatrist?" And I nodded, she said okay and she would speak to my physician about a recommendation the next day. I told her that I didn't want to wait because I felt as if it was too late, and that would take too long. It was then if she asked if I was thinking about hurting myself, and the tears instantly streamed down my face while I nodded again. She wanted me to say with her, but my car was up on base at Fort Drum cause we took Johns SUV to the mall. She said she would call my doctor and see what we needed to do. I rode up to get my car, and mom called my father for me because I was too ashamed to tell him what I was going through.
On the way home my Father called me, and said that I needed to come stay the weekend with him and we could talk. He kept saying something like you owe it to me, and before you do anything rash. And I agreed. Then Mom called me and told me she spoke to my personal physician and that she was worried about me (we are all pretty close). When my mother told her I was going to get my car and drive home my doctor wanted my mother to call the troopers to pick me up instead to make sure I didn't hurt myself. But my mom knew better. She said "It's okay, she told me she would be home tonight. So she will be home." She also showed a lot of concer about me checking myself into the Mental Health ward because she said once I admit myself I can not be released until they feel I should be. And I took a deep breath and said "Well Mom, if they want to keep me there, then there would have to be a reason." I got home and spent about an hour or so laying in my moms room with her not hardly speaking just holding her and then I looked at her and said. "Mom, I need to go now." And she asked me if I was sure, and I nodded. I packed a bag and we hopped in the car.
I guess during regular office hours you can just go to OMH and speak to someone and get admitted. But being that it was about 11pm on a weekday that was not really an option. We went to the Oswego Emergency room and I had to peak to a few people who I didn't know and tell them that I was contemplating suicide. Not only did I feel ashamed for letting depression take over me, but I felt so vulnerable because I had to tell complete strangers (doctors, nurses, reception) that I was nothing but a scared little girl who was at the end of her rope. I sat in the waiting room, then waiting for a doctor, then sitting with a random nurse (who they told me was a precaution to make sure I didn't try to off myself while I was there) for 5 hours until my transportation came to bring me to OMH. Now if I had actually attempted suicide or was forced to go in this would make a lot more sense, but I admitted myself. While waiting with the nurse who was a year or so younger than I was my father came in to see me. He had to leave to go out of state for work in a few hours but he still came down to talk to me. I didn't expect him to be there for me the way he was. He never had been as concerned about me as he was that night.
I got to the hospital about 4am, and had to talk to so more strangers, get a few shots and tests and let them go through my luggage and take half my clothing and things because there were a risk. (Pajama pants with string ties, my iPhone -no cells or cameras allowed, my belt and many other items) By the time I got to finally go to sleep it was 5am.
Now I had seen Girl, Interrupted but I never knew how close that was to the reality of a mental hospital. I was in a room I had to share with a roommate who was already sleeping. Didn't know her name, why she was there or anything. Just when I went to lay in the bed they did "checks". Yup, they actually do checks every so many minutes that's not just in the movies. I somehow fell asleep (the medicine they gave me probably helped) and an hour later I was awoken when one of the people doing checks came in. I probably would have just fell right back to sleep but the door stayed open for longer then the first time and I heard my still unknown roommate say "What do you need?" to the staff member. Then I heard a familiar voice say "April?" I lifted my head to match the voice with a face and it was one of my brothers friends. "Bill?" I answered tiredly. And I sat up in my bed a bit, the sun had come out already but I was not ready to greet it. He said he was my name and was wondering how I was doing and what I was doing here. And I know it seems rude but I said "I am kind of regretting coming here now that you see me here." I didn't mean anything against him and he assured me he couldn't say anything to anyone about me being there. But I didn't mean it because I was worried about him saying something, I meant it because I was so ashamed to be there, that even though he wasn't a very close friend, he knew...and that killed me. He sat on the heating unit near my bed to try to have a conversation with me, and I think I may have been a bit snarky. I just remember saying "Bill, I just got here an hour ago and I really want to sleep can we talk later?" He respected that and said goodnight even though it was mornign and off he went.
People doing checks were in and out and I had already grown frustrated as to how much noise the fucking doors made when they opened and closed each time. But I still managed to sleep through breakfast, and lunch. They did wake me up for dinner where I walked in, ate and sat in a common area for all of 10 minutes feeling extremely uncomfortable until I once again retired to my room. The brought me my medicine later, and I took it and went back to sleep. Now I was a pack of day smoker at this point in my life, and they didn't inform me till I had already checked myself in that they had 2 times alloted per day to go to the patio and smoke (they were working to become smoke free which they have obtained now). These times were at 6am and 9pm. Which if you are a smoker, you will understand this statement....that alone could drive someone crazy. Now think of this. If you didn't wake up to go out in the morning, you were fucked until 9pm.
The 2nd day I woke up to take my medicine and they told me about smoking time, I ran out and chain smoked 3 Newport 100's turned down breakfast and went back to sleep till about 9 or 10 am. Besides a phone call I received on the common payphone from my mother, and then my father I had zero socialization. I didn't pack any books or anything because I thought if I took out my Sim card I would keep my iPhone to keep me occupied. I never even thought that they would take it because of the camera. So I had no entertainment. The TV was down near the mens rooms and almost always on sports. I sat in the common room being as quiet as possible just observing the people that surrounded me. I kept telling you this was a safe place, and I know I shouldn't pass judgement but there were some crazy people in there. People who heard voices and radios playing in their heads, people with no concept of personal space, ones who had anger issues. This was my 2nd day there, but my first day I left my room and if I had a book or something with me and a lock on that room door I think I would have hid in there the whole time. I knew a few of the other staff one was my best friends aunt, and another was a girl I went to High School with (we didn't get along back then either).
It wasn't till my 3rd day in that I walked by the black board in the girls common area and saw a box in the upper left corner that said "Beatles Songs" I spun around and asked an staff member if they wanted us to list Beatles songs on the basically empty board. She was and older woman with short gray hair and she kindly replied yes. I had found something to do. Something that could keep me occupied. I basically burnt through the chalk, before anyone had realized I had started the list I had about 40 songs down, and then another staff member came up and started helping me along. He and I actually became friends and I still speak to him. But he rattled off a bunch more, which made me remember more then finally some other patients joined in the fun. I wish I could remember how many songs we came up with, but I do remember we had trouble squeezing new ones on the board and it was pretty large. That was when I came out of my shell. I started talking to people, some were still pretty nuts to me. And I haven't really spoken to any of them since then but that day and that list helped me more than any talks with the therapists did.
I spent the rest of my time in there doing puzzles, lists on the board, and talking with the staff. Not so much the patients with the exception of one or two. I forged two new friendships with some staffers that I still maintain to this day. I learned a lot of things in there but most of all I learned that I never wanted to go back. There were some patients in there who had been there 9 times or more. I guess if you have nothing and no one it could be worse. They feed you 3 meals a day, do your laundry, provide you with a roof over your head, television to watch and all your medication. There were lots more stories from in there that I could tell and I was only there for a week, but this seems like a pretty long blog already.
So just a few more things and then I will wrap this up. After my stint at OMH, I had outpatient visits bi-weekly and went through 4 medications before things started to work. I have been off anti-depressants for close to a year now things are getting to be great. Sometimes you just need the stability the medicine gives you until you can figure out how to give that to yourself. It gets better, I had people tell me that when I was lost and I didn't believe them. I couldn't possibly fathom this feeling that had pushed me down so far ever going away, but it did. I know most people who read this probably aren't feeling any of these things I talked about but for the 1 or many who are I want to tell you this. Talk to a doctor, just say you are feeling a depression you have never felt before. Unless you have considered/attempted or are scared you might try suicide be sure to steer clear of that word though. Try your best not to put it off. In my case it started off as a bad day here and there, then a feeling of loneliness, hopelessness until I couldn't wait another minute to get help. I swear if it weren't for the fact that I knew it would kill my mother and my father would be disappointed in me I might have done it. It may sound nuts, but I am so lucky to have gone through that horrible low in my life because it really lets me see how far I have come and what I am capable of. To know that even though sometimes I am embarrassed to admit I fell victim to the depression I was strong enough to battle my way out of it. Yes medications were involved but I broke free of them and am standing tall now.
If you take nothing else away from this ridiculously long post please take this. Life is about changing, things weren't meant to be the same. Things won't be this way forever, I made it out of the darkness and you can make it through too. The best quote I can close this with is "You know the great thing, though, is that change can be so constant you don't even feel the difference until there is one. It can be so slow that you don't even notice that your life is better or worse, until it is." (Life as a House)
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Closet Romantic
I have written and deleted at least 4 separate paragraphs in the last 15 minutes...and I just can't figure out how to get this point across.
I have had a horrible history when it comes to dating. Even worse with men in general. I am 100% faithful, but I have a huge commitment phobia. I have had 3 real relationships. One with a Kyle whom I dated in high school for 6 months then for 2 years after I graduated. One with Mike on and off for about 6 months. And then there was Arron who was the most recent mistake.
And for the most part after we broke up I would go through a phase of a year or so where I said I would not date. I felt like I had done all I could and deserved to not have to answer to someone. Not have to belong to someone who was just going to disappoint me in the end. And during these periods I convinced myself that even if I was in a situation where I could see myself being with a specific person that I didn't want love. That I didn't need it and that I didn't deserve it.
A lot of my friends know I am just one of the guys. Some of my old friends think I want be a bachelor forever. I make jokes about it, say I will either become a crazy old cat lady or a lesbian. No one realizes, I joke about it because it scares me. I was hanging out with this really great guy for a while. A little younger than me, sweet, funny and great in bed. But, he always seemed to be right on top of me. I am sure it wasn't as extreme to anyone else who watched us hanging out. But I felt like I couldn't breathe.
In my heart I want the walks on the beach, candle lite dinners, knight in shining armor on a white horse, sweeping me off my feet and carrying me to a bed covered in rose petals. Unfortunately my head knows that that sand gets everywhere, and candles burn too hot. That horses sometimes smell and flowers attract bees. And its shattered.
I want to believe in love, but based on my experience it just doesn't exist. So I will continue to pretend I don't want it and be a closet romantic.
I have had a horrible history when it comes to dating. Even worse with men in general. I am 100% faithful, but I have a huge commitment phobia. I have had 3 real relationships. One with a Kyle whom I dated in high school for 6 months then for 2 years after I graduated. One with Mike on and off for about 6 months. And then there was Arron who was the most recent mistake.
And for the most part after we broke up I would go through a phase of a year or so where I said I would not date. I felt like I had done all I could and deserved to not have to answer to someone. Not have to belong to someone who was just going to disappoint me in the end. And during these periods I convinced myself that even if I was in a situation where I could see myself being with a specific person that I didn't want love. That I didn't need it and that I didn't deserve it.
A lot of my friends know I am just one of the guys. Some of my old friends think I want be a bachelor forever. I make jokes about it, say I will either become a crazy old cat lady or a lesbian. No one realizes, I joke about it because it scares me. I was hanging out with this really great guy for a while. A little younger than me, sweet, funny and great in bed. But, he always seemed to be right on top of me. I am sure it wasn't as extreme to anyone else who watched us hanging out. But I felt like I couldn't breathe.
In my heart I want the walks on the beach, candle lite dinners, knight in shining armor on a white horse, sweeping me off my feet and carrying me to a bed covered in rose petals. Unfortunately my head knows that that sand gets everywhere, and candles burn too hot. That horses sometimes smell and flowers attract bees. And its shattered.
I want to believe in love, but based on my experience it just doesn't exist. So I will continue to pretend I don't want it and be a closet romantic.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Infatuation
Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines the word as fallows : 1 to cause to be foolish : deprive of sound judgment and 2 to inspire with a foolish or extravagant love or admiration. I have a problem with these definitions...because they don't inspire too much hope.
Wikipedia just makes it worse. By stating "Infatuation is the state of being completely carried away by unreasoned passion or love; addictive love. Usually, one is inspired with an intense but short-lived passion or admiration for someone. Infatuation is a common emotion characterized by unrealistic expectations of blissful passion without positive relationship growth or development. Infatuation is distinguished by a lack of trust, loyalty, commitment, and reciprocity. In the case of infatuation, there is usually an obsessor and an object of desire, who may or may not be attainable."
Rhett was infected with extravagent love since the first time he laid eyes on Scarlett. You could see it in his eyes while he gazed up at her from the bottom of that plantation staircase. Christian was inspired with a foolish admiration when he saw Satine dangling from a swing by the ceiling. I want that!
Gosh when you are young love stories are the first ones you hear and remember. They never explain to you that they all start with infatuation. Yeah, Cinderella and Prince Charming may have lived "Happily Ever After." But do you think that would have been possible if he didn't knock on every door in the kingdom with a damn shoe? My sources (websters and wikipedia) turn up their nose at infatuation. Like it is not a reliable feeling. Why not call it by the name other people call it "Love at first sight" or "That spark".
I am usually very pessimistic about all things romantic. But I never understood why this word is always used in a almost negative way. Because I feel like love is nearly impossible to obtain without an infatuation. It's the feeling that makes you ask her out. The one that makes you wonder if you should call today or tomorrow. Sure as hell isn't love that early. I think its a building block though...
Okay. I will stop throwing the psychobabble out there. We all know I am single and have the worst history and most likely future...just wanted to point out that our English language makes something so beautiful look so deprived of sound judgment.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
See the Dilemma?
It's been over two years since I last wrote in this notebook. Want to know something funny? I have two new ones just like it and about 10 smaller ones sitting under my computer desk, and I still spent a few minutes trying to figure out where I had placed this specific one. Either I am faithful or pathetic. I will leave that up to you.
Of course, anyone reading this right now is probably reading it after it was transferred to the internet (or God willing my own book). But the sentiment sill needed to be mentioned.
You probably are wondering what drove me to search for this 'antique' in the first place. Curious to know if it is something heartbreaking, puzzling or funny. Lol, when do I write anything funny? It's depressing and confusing. Yup, there she is! Same ole April! The only thing hindering me from saying what it is is the fact that in order to tel you this long story....I would have to tell you a longer one. See the dilemma?
Of course, anyone reading this right now is probably reading it after it was transferred to the internet (or God willing my own book). But the sentiment sill needed to be mentioned.
You probably are wondering what drove me to search for this 'antique' in the first place. Curious to know if it is something heartbreaking, puzzling or funny. Lol, when do I write anything funny? It's depressing and confusing. Yup, there she is! Same ole April! The only thing hindering me from saying what it is is the fact that in order to tel you this long story....I would have to tell you a longer one. See the dilemma?
Saturday, June 5, 2010
STOP USING PLEASE
I tell you I love you all the time.
I can joke and laugh with you.
But for some reason the most important things I should be able to say I cant.
I wish I was strong enough to tell you everything.
To tell you what you do everyday isn't just wrong but scary.
I worry about you so much.
I know you would laugh and shrug it off.
Im the little one,
I am the 'good' one,
I don't know what I am talking about,
everything is under control,
I am always the worrier.
But good God I could punch you.
I want to shake you so hard.
I want to wrap my arms around you so tight and make you see you don't need this.
It kills me to see this.
I love you more than I could ever explain,
and if I wasn't afraid of you hating me I would force you to see.
But I am not strong...
and you wont listen.
I hope you will just realise all this on your own,
even though I know you wont.
I can joke and laugh with you.
But for some reason the most important things I should be able to say I cant.
I wish I was strong enough to tell you everything.
To tell you what you do everyday isn't just wrong but scary.
I worry about you so much.
I know you would laugh and shrug it off.
Im the little one,
I am the 'good' one,
I don't know what I am talking about,
everything is under control,
I am always the worrier.
But good God I could punch you.
I want to shake you so hard.
I want to wrap my arms around you so tight and make you see you don't need this.
It kills me to see this.
I love you more than I could ever explain,
and if I wasn't afraid of you hating me I would force you to see.
But I am not strong...
and you wont listen.
I hope you will just realise all this on your own,
even though I know you wont.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Oh the places we can go...
I don't know where I am.
I feel like I have been wandering for hours,
in 8 million directions, and none of them helped
to get me anywhere but here. I am scared, alone
and screaming to be found. It's dark, so dark I
am worried I may have just gone blind..And deaf its nearly
silent. It if weren't for the wind in the trees I would
think I was the new Helen Keller. I shout "Someone!
Anyone! PLEASE!" My cry pierces through the quiet
like an arrow. You would think it could be heard for
miles, but its just my scewed perception after all this
silence.
I sit on the cold damp ground. Isn't that what they
say to do? When you are lost it is best to stay where
you are...so when someone comes looking for you
they have a better chance of finding you. But who
would look for me here? I close my eyes and a tear
falls into the blackness that is my surroundings, but it
doesn't just fall it ripples. Not just the tear, but the dark.
Everything around me slowly bends and bows like a
lake and the first drop of rain. Then all of a sudden
things are getting a little lighter. Grey and white and
a beige. I spin to take in whats happening.
I don't know where I am.
I am in a room that seems to have no walls. I am sure
there is a ceiling but this place is so white I cant
fathom it. And everywhere I turn there is a filing cabinet.
Not just around me but filling the endless room. Stacked on
top of each other. Drawers semi opened and papers all jumbled
up as if a hurricane blew through right before I got here.
Where ever here is. I pull out a paper from the manila
folder and try to read. It is blank, but for some reason I
know what it was meant to say. While looking at this clear
page I am thinking about balance and walking. I drop the
sheet of nothingness. This makes no sense. I walk to another
cabinet its filled with empties as well but as I fan
through them I picture a full day in 5th grade. This cant
be happening. I run down hallways of file lockers and stop
in front of one. It was bound to happen in this setting
but I feel like it was meant to be. I open the bottom
drawer and grab yet another piece of paper. This
one is, you guessed it blank. But for some reason I
feel anger towards this single sheet and crumple it up
and throw it across the room. And as it flies it
does something odd. Like my tear it caused a reaction,
but this one was very different. The only way I can
describe it is by comparing it to a gunshot hole. And
instantly all the air got sucked out of the room.
Not just the air a bunch of papers and me as well.
I don't know where I am.
My body is aching and it's dark again. I sigh thinking
I am back in the never ending depression of the wood till
I realize I haven't opened my eyes. All these thoughts,
words, and images have all happened as I al laying in
bed trying to sleep but not succeeding. I have been
lost, trapped, confused and amazed by my own mind. Or
is it in my own mind? Could it be?!
I feel like I have been wandering for hours,
in 8 million directions, and none of them helped
to get me anywhere but here. I am scared, alone
and screaming to be found. It's dark, so dark I
am worried I may have just gone blind..And deaf its nearly
silent. It if weren't for the wind in the trees I would
think I was the new Helen Keller. I shout "Someone!
Anyone! PLEASE!" My cry pierces through the quiet
like an arrow. You would think it could be heard for
miles, but its just my scewed perception after all this
silence.
I sit on the cold damp ground. Isn't that what they
say to do? When you are lost it is best to stay where
you are...so when someone comes looking for you
they have a better chance of finding you. But who
would look for me here? I close my eyes and a tear
falls into the blackness that is my surroundings, but it
doesn't just fall it ripples. Not just the tear, but the dark.
Everything around me slowly bends and bows like a
lake and the first drop of rain. Then all of a sudden
things are getting a little lighter. Grey and white and
a beige. I spin to take in whats happening.
I don't know where I am.
I am in a room that seems to have no walls. I am sure
there is a ceiling but this place is so white I cant
fathom it. And everywhere I turn there is a filing cabinet.
Not just around me but filling the endless room. Stacked on
top of each other. Drawers semi opened and papers all jumbled
up as if a hurricane blew through right before I got here.
Where ever here is. I pull out a paper from the manila
folder and try to read. It is blank, but for some reason I
know what it was meant to say. While looking at this clear
page I am thinking about balance and walking. I drop the
sheet of nothingness. This makes no sense. I walk to another
cabinet its filled with empties as well but as I fan
through them I picture a full day in 5th grade. This cant
be happening. I run down hallways of file lockers and stop
in front of one. It was bound to happen in this setting
but I feel like it was meant to be. I open the bottom
drawer and grab yet another piece of paper. This
one is, you guessed it blank. But for some reason I
feel anger towards this single sheet and crumple it up
and throw it across the room. And as it flies it
does something odd. Like my tear it caused a reaction,
but this one was very different. The only way I can
describe it is by comparing it to a gunshot hole. And
instantly all the air got sucked out of the room.
Not just the air a bunch of papers and me as well.
I don't know where I am.
My body is aching and it's dark again. I sigh thinking
I am back in the never ending depression of the wood till
I realize I haven't opened my eyes. All these thoughts,
words, and images have all happened as I al laying in
bed trying to sleep but not succeeding. I have been
lost, trapped, confused and amazed by my own mind. Or
is it in my own mind? Could it be?!
Friday, March 26, 2010
Introduction
It has been quite a while since I sat with nothing but my mind and a writing utensil. And I must say I missed it dearly. So lets expand our views of the world once more. Lets open every door of our subconcious and let all the worlds flow together like we never have before. We all need to stop keeping things pent up, It's unhealthy. It builds, rips, eats, peels, stings and poisons us. We destory ourselves with things unspoken.
Release yoruself into the world. Tell soomeone, let it out even if it's to yourself. Write it in ink so it'f forever. I may not have spoken the feelings you read here, but someone someday will read it. A friend, a family member or a complete stranger. It doesn't matter, This is me, at one stage or another this is the true me, and no one can tell you different. I can tell a piece of paper my dakest thoughts, aspierations and hardest moments. It doesn't judge. And anyone who reads this will see parts of me I haven't expressed before nor will again.
Someday I may publish this, sounds silly and crazy now...but someday I just might. Just to see who would read it, connect with it. But who knows I may look back on this years later and be a totally different person (unlikely) and want it all for myself. It's nice to dream though. If I were to publish this, I think this would be my introduction...hows it going? Nice so far? Well, I hope so. Next!
Release yoruself into the world. Tell soomeone, let it out even if it's to yourself. Write it in ink so it'f forever. I may not have spoken the feelings you read here, but someone someday will read it. A friend, a family member or a complete stranger. It doesn't matter, This is me, at one stage or another this is the true me, and no one can tell you different. I can tell a piece of paper my dakest thoughts, aspierations and hardest moments. It doesn't judge. And anyone who reads this will see parts of me I haven't expressed before nor will again.
Someday I may publish this, sounds silly and crazy now...but someday I just might. Just to see who would read it, connect with it. But who knows I may look back on this years later and be a totally different person (unlikely) and want it all for myself. It's nice to dream though. If I were to publish this, I think this would be my introduction...hows it going? Nice so far? Well, I hope so. Next!
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
I Lost Myself
I am not me anymore. I know that I am different, changed but I am not sure how.
I lost myself somewhere, and I am scared I will never find me again. I close my eyes lightly and see this low and empty me staggering through a thick fog with outstreached arms. My fingertips dance in the vois just longing to feel the brush of my own skin, the real me nearby. But my digits return empty and my confidence that I may be found slips a little more. And yet I still reach out once again and spin around with hope.
I want to cry out for help. But no one has noticed just how I have sank in the quicksand. And I am afraid to show that I am up to my neck in confussion. I am embarressed to let people see how changed I really have become.
I never understood it when others would say they need to find themselves. But now I do. I have been thinking more and more how I just need to get away. Climb in the car alone and take off with no route planned. A solitary road trip with a pocketfull of cash and a tank full of gas. Call work from the road and tell them not to expect me to come back. Fill my trunk to the brim with clothes, snacks and cd's. I want to so bad...if I only had the guts.
There is a hole in me. I honestly believe it started out almost microscopic, then it expanded to the size of a pinhead, a dime, a bullet wound...Lord knows how big it is now. I feel as iff I am hemoroging internally. The blood fills up my insides weighing me down. My hands are drenched in my blood as I pack cause into my chest cavity trying to cling to myself.
I am lost. Gone, maybe forever.
I lost myself somewhere, and I am scared I will never find me again. I close my eyes lightly and see this low and empty me staggering through a thick fog with outstreached arms. My fingertips dance in the vois just longing to feel the brush of my own skin, the real me nearby. But my digits return empty and my confidence that I may be found slips a little more. And yet I still reach out once again and spin around with hope.
I want to cry out for help. But no one has noticed just how I have sank in the quicksand. And I am afraid to show that I am up to my neck in confussion. I am embarressed to let people see how changed I really have become.
I never understood it when others would say they need to find themselves. But now I do. I have been thinking more and more how I just need to get away. Climb in the car alone and take off with no route planned. A solitary road trip with a pocketfull of cash and a tank full of gas. Call work from the road and tell them not to expect me to come back. Fill my trunk to the brim with clothes, snacks and cd's. I want to so bad...if I only had the guts.
There is a hole in me. I honestly believe it started out almost microscopic, then it expanded to the size of a pinhead, a dime, a bullet wound...Lord knows how big it is now. I feel as iff I am hemoroging internally. The blood fills up my insides weighing me down. My hands are drenched in my blood as I pack cause into my chest cavity trying to cling to myself.
I am lost. Gone, maybe forever.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
My Family
What can I say about the S. side of my family?
I guess I should start off with talking about my grandfather, Donald H. S.. He was and will always be the mmost amazing man I have ever known. He was tall, and very thick around the middle. People who didn't know would probably see him as intimidating. To be honest, to me he was always a big teddy bear. He was quite outspoken at times but always in the best of taste...if that makes any sense. He was the glue that held our family together.
I will always remember silly things about him. Like the white T-shirts he would wear that had a pocket on the left chest where he always put his soft pack of smokes. Or the smell of his cheap cologne. And the fact that he would just look at my grandma and tell her "Shut up Carol!" when she was being Carol. He always took pride in our accomplishments. He passed away when I was 10 years old.
My grandmother came from nothing. She had nothing to be stuck up about but she has always put on hairs like she was a goddess. She raised my aunts to think that it is okay to starve themselves and marry for money. She herself had been married twice befor my grandfather and once in between. She is one fo the worlds most two faced cruel self-centered busy bodies.
I have two aunts on that side, both feel as if they do no wrong. Both married for money, and do nothing but gloat about thier children. Who by the way are snotty carbon copies.
My uncles for the most part are all the same. Loud, never wrong and very quick to cast judgement. Just like my father. The only uncle I can exclude from that statement is the youngest of them all. He got away from the family after grandpops past. It's probably for the best. He has a beautiful wife and three very well behaved kids although most of the family despise them for it. And yet I have nothing but respect for them.
My siblings and I are kind of ostricised from the family. My parents are the only ones to get divorced so we have dealt with things my cousins will never understand. My eldest brother has been to jail twice. Drugs have been associated with both my brothers which is a topic the family openly bring up at inappropriate times because they are hoised up so high on thier pedestules. I guess us kids never had a chance, not with Carol as head of household.
Grandpa was the rock, he was the best. And not a day goes by when I don't think about him and what our family would be like if he was still here.
I guess I should start off with talking about my grandfather, Donald H. S.. He was and will always be the mmost amazing man I have ever known. He was tall, and very thick around the middle. People who didn't know would probably see him as intimidating. To be honest, to me he was always a big teddy bear. He was quite outspoken at times but always in the best of taste...if that makes any sense. He was the glue that held our family together.
I will always remember silly things about him. Like the white T-shirts he would wear that had a pocket on the left chest where he always put his soft pack of smokes. Or the smell of his cheap cologne. And the fact that he would just look at my grandma and tell her "Shut up Carol!" when she was being Carol. He always took pride in our accomplishments. He passed away when I was 10 years old.
My grandmother came from nothing. She had nothing to be stuck up about but she has always put on hairs like she was a goddess. She raised my aunts to think that it is okay to starve themselves and marry for money. She herself had been married twice befor my grandfather and once in between. She is one fo the worlds most two faced cruel self-centered busy bodies.
I have two aunts on that side, both feel as if they do no wrong. Both married for money, and do nothing but gloat about thier children. Who by the way are snotty carbon copies.
My uncles for the most part are all the same. Loud, never wrong and very quick to cast judgement. Just like my father. The only uncle I can exclude from that statement is the youngest of them all. He got away from the family after grandpops past. It's probably for the best. He has a beautiful wife and three very well behaved kids although most of the family despise them for it. And yet I have nothing but respect for them.
My siblings and I are kind of ostricised from the family. My parents are the only ones to get divorced so we have dealt with things my cousins will never understand. My eldest brother has been to jail twice. Drugs have been associated with both my brothers which is a topic the family openly bring up at inappropriate times because they are hoised up so high on thier pedestules. I guess us kids never had a chance, not with Carol as head of household.
Grandpa was the rock, he was the best. And not a day goes by when I don't think about him and what our family would be like if he was still here.
Why buy the cow?
This is a phrase that I have identified with lately. After a long hard relationship that failed miserably I am having issues seeing anything in the same light as before.
I used to think I would get married someday. Twice in my life it was a definate option. Once it was too soon, and the trust wasn't there. The second time though it had been discussed. But the proposal was a last stitch effort to keep us together. That was the final nail in the coffin of our relationship, no way it could survive that.
I now have a different view on holy matromony. I have decided it's not for me. I understand the romantics of the ceremony, but thats only one day. People spend thousands of dollars to pledge thier soul to eachother. To promise to love one another for all time. Then they get a piece of paper and a ring and leave fulfilled.
With times today a divorce/anullment is easier to get than any sort of government assistance. If you love a person, love them! If you want to be with a person, be with them. Why make promises that most likely one of you wont be able to keep?
I have become cynical. I am not even one for relationships anymore. I was always the girl who had a lot of guy friends. But I was never seen in that light. I was a virgin till college, and I don't want to go into details about that day. I played for a bit but not much. Then there was Kyle. And I was out of the game completely, but when it all fell to shit and it was just me once again everything was different. I started hooking up. Sometimes just once, sometimes on and off for months. Hell at one time I was pushing a year with a guy.
This isn't a proud point for me, but it is when that statement sank in the most. People destroy perfectly healthy situations by placing relationships and rules on them. Like a parking lot on a space where a lovely wood used to occupy. My view now is if llove finds me, so be it, but I will no longer work for it. I have put myself out there and been lead on or shot down so many times that I give up.
Guys can do it all the time. If they don't want to be lonely or need a hookup they call an old friend. Casual dating and casual sex have become a social norm for men these days. So why don't more women choose not to buy the cow?
I used to think I would get married someday. Twice in my life it was a definate option. Once it was too soon, and the trust wasn't there. The second time though it had been discussed. But the proposal was a last stitch effort to keep us together. That was the final nail in the coffin of our relationship, no way it could survive that.
I now have a different view on holy matromony. I have decided it's not for me. I understand the romantics of the ceremony, but thats only one day. People spend thousands of dollars to pledge thier soul to eachother. To promise to love one another for all time. Then they get a piece of paper and a ring and leave fulfilled.
With times today a divorce/anullment is easier to get than any sort of government assistance. If you love a person, love them! If you want to be with a person, be with them. Why make promises that most likely one of you wont be able to keep?
I have become cynical. I am not even one for relationships anymore. I was always the girl who had a lot of guy friends. But I was never seen in that light. I was a virgin till college, and I don't want to go into details about that day. I played for a bit but not much. Then there was Kyle. And I was out of the game completely, but when it all fell to shit and it was just me once again everything was different. I started hooking up. Sometimes just once, sometimes on and off for months. Hell at one time I was pushing a year with a guy.
This isn't a proud point for me, but it is when that statement sank in the most. People destroy perfectly healthy situations by placing relationships and rules on them. Like a parking lot on a space where a lovely wood used to occupy. My view now is if llove finds me, so be it, but I will no longer work for it. I have put myself out there and been lead on or shot down so many times that I give up.
Guys can do it all the time. If they don't want to be lonely or need a hookup they call an old friend. Casual dating and casual sex have become a social norm for men these days. So why don't more women choose not to buy the cow?
Friday, March 19, 2010
Ramblings of a useless person
If i melted into a useless puddle on the floor would you even notice?
If my empty eyes glazed over and turned balck would you fill them?
If this cold day embedded itself in my heart never to warm up again would you hold my hand?
Turmail twist and turns in my heart of stone. I know I shouldn't ba allowed to feel. That's why I try my hardest not to show emotion. I close myself off and slip into a pool of solidarity. Treading water till my legs cramp up and I sing into oblivion. Would you jump in and rescue me?
The minds that lead are the minds that question ever aspect og thier choices. They act superior because they know themselves better than the minds that follow ever will. Are you a leader or a follower?
FREEZE! Right here, Right now. Is there another place you would rather be? Another person you would rather be with? Another road you would rather speed down while smiling at the cop trying to keep up behind you?
The false is becoming true, the fake real...when did we stop respecting ourselves? When did we decide we weren't good enough? That we should be better, different?
I curl up in a ball under my heated blanket and shield my jaded eyes with my blankie. My heaad spins from the night before, the year before and all others before. When did my life become so coulded by other peoples opinions?
To quote someone else "I walk, I talk, I shop, I sneeze. I'm going to be a fireman when the floods roll back. This is over, we don't do this anymore. You are not the source of me."
One day we will all stand up and reclaim out power to be ourself. One day we will all put our foot down and do and say what we see fit. But one day is not now, not today and not this very second. I wish I could be content with that. So until that day is here and the world is spinning in my direction, I will be on autopilot. As it has been for as long as I can remember.
My life has been a movie. A tattered home video playing before my eyes. All I can do is pause every once in a while and contemplate how I got this far. How I ever made it through. There is no 'rewind', it has been replaced by 'self destruct' and I have fast forwarded through to much already. Worn that god forsaken button out ages ago. I set fire to the 'replay' button. It's never to be seen or heard froma gain. My musical score is the same notes over and over. I want to scratch out my eardrums so I don't have to listen to it anymore. My eyes burn from watching so much pain.
So I look instead at my hands. Nearly invisible to the blood and mud. I run my frozen fingers under the hot water, it burns as I scrub away. The clear water turns to a dirty red as it spins and swirls down the drain to who knows where. My digits ache. My skin cracks and peels off exposing the intricate muscle underneath. Who am I?
I have been dragged through the muck, through this mudhole we call life. There are so many choices I should have made, but didn't. Choices I made because it was what other people wanted or expected from my hollow shell of a body.
I inhale another deep breath of cigarette smoke hoping the chemicals will eat away at my insides till there is nothing left. It's horrible isn't it? I smoke because of the addiction, but sometimes I smoke praying for the repercussions.
My day is filled with empty mindless banter of diologue and text. Coupled with the occasional exceptional customer experience and some random obsenities. What am I doing? I am going to stay home all day and ponder, nap and melt into solitude like a hermit. Have to go now. I have nothing more to say at the moment.
If my empty eyes glazed over and turned balck would you fill them?
If this cold day embedded itself in my heart never to warm up again would you hold my hand?
Turmail twist and turns in my heart of stone. I know I shouldn't ba allowed to feel. That's why I try my hardest not to show emotion. I close myself off and slip into a pool of solidarity. Treading water till my legs cramp up and I sing into oblivion. Would you jump in and rescue me?
The minds that lead are the minds that question ever aspect og thier choices. They act superior because they know themselves better than the minds that follow ever will. Are you a leader or a follower?
FREEZE! Right here, Right now. Is there another place you would rather be? Another person you would rather be with? Another road you would rather speed down while smiling at the cop trying to keep up behind you?
The false is becoming true, the fake real...when did we stop respecting ourselves? When did we decide we weren't good enough? That we should be better, different?
I curl up in a ball under my heated blanket and shield my jaded eyes with my blankie. My heaad spins from the night before, the year before and all others before. When did my life become so coulded by other peoples opinions?
To quote someone else "I walk, I talk, I shop, I sneeze. I'm going to be a fireman when the floods roll back. This is over, we don't do this anymore. You are not the source of me."
One day we will all stand up and reclaim out power to be ourself. One day we will all put our foot down and do and say what we see fit. But one day is not now, not today and not this very second. I wish I could be content with that. So until that day is here and the world is spinning in my direction, I will be on autopilot. As it has been for as long as I can remember.
My life has been a movie. A tattered home video playing before my eyes. All I can do is pause every once in a while and contemplate how I got this far. How I ever made it through. There is no 'rewind', it has been replaced by 'self destruct' and I have fast forwarded through to much already. Worn that god forsaken button out ages ago. I set fire to the 'replay' button. It's never to be seen or heard froma gain. My musical score is the same notes over and over. I want to scratch out my eardrums so I don't have to listen to it anymore. My eyes burn from watching so much pain.
So I look instead at my hands. Nearly invisible to the blood and mud. I run my frozen fingers under the hot water, it burns as I scrub away. The clear water turns to a dirty red as it spins and swirls down the drain to who knows where. My digits ache. My skin cracks and peels off exposing the intricate muscle underneath. Who am I?
I have been dragged through the muck, through this mudhole we call life. There are so many choices I should have made, but didn't. Choices I made because it was what other people wanted or expected from my hollow shell of a body.
I inhale another deep breath of cigarette smoke hoping the chemicals will eat away at my insides till there is nothing left. It's horrible isn't it? I smoke because of the addiction, but sometimes I smoke praying for the repercussions.
My day is filled with empty mindless banter of diologue and text. Coupled with the occasional exceptional customer experience and some random obsenities. What am I doing? I am going to stay home all day and ponder, nap and melt into solitude like a hermit. Have to go now. I have nothing more to say at the moment.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
The Song
Life is not a poem. It's not an epic, an ongoing tale of great moments. It's not simply filled with endless accomplishments one after another. It's not just a story, read aloud monotoneusly by the balding man in the front of the room. It's much more than all of that.
It's a song. One whose music rises and falls dramatically with the mood of the moment. Haven't you heard it? The soft strings playing when deeply concentrating. A set of drums being ravaged by steady yet tempered hands while out face grows red and our blood boils. A flute flittering in the wind as we look into thier eyes...The background music is the most important of all. Silence is a sickness. Even when doing nothing there should be a note.
Words are key as well, but not in the way you may think. They don't have to rhymen, or make sense. Sometimes the nonsensical string of words that can be the deepest.
The way you sing your song is pivital. If you stand there stiff witht he lyrics just falling out of your mouth you may as well stand naked in the silence, for it will touch no one. No one will hear it, no one will be marked by your words and the music itself willbe painful to witness.
You must sway, step, shake, kick and headbang. This is how you live your life. Do you want your soundtrack to be nothing more then a dull heartbeat? Or do you want it to scream, twang, bellow and cruciendo? You can't reherse the song of life...every verse can play off the previous and build up suspence to the next. It can make it that much better.
Experiances repeat in life like choruses, there may be days or years in between but they all remind you of the last time you released that nore, word, phrase of in lifes case love, lose, pain.
You must not shrink away into the shadows of your song. Move with it, hear the time flow and belt it out. Because when the last powerchords ring you want to look back at your preformance with a smile on your face and think, Thats my song!
It's a song. One whose music rises and falls dramatically with the mood of the moment. Haven't you heard it? The soft strings playing when deeply concentrating. A set of drums being ravaged by steady yet tempered hands while out face grows red and our blood boils. A flute flittering in the wind as we look into thier eyes...The background music is the most important of all. Silence is a sickness. Even when doing nothing there should be a note.
Words are key as well, but not in the way you may think. They don't have to rhymen, or make sense. Sometimes the nonsensical string of words that can be the deepest.
The way you sing your song is pivital. If you stand there stiff witht he lyrics just falling out of your mouth you may as well stand naked in the silence, for it will touch no one. No one will hear it, no one will be marked by your words and the music itself willbe painful to witness.
You must sway, step, shake, kick and headbang. This is how you live your life. Do you want your soundtrack to be nothing more then a dull heartbeat? Or do you want it to scream, twang, bellow and cruciendo? You can't reherse the song of life...every verse can play off the previous and build up suspence to the next. It can make it that much better.
Experiances repeat in life like choruses, there may be days or years in between but they all remind you of the last time you released that nore, word, phrase of in lifes case love, lose, pain.
You must not shrink away into the shadows of your song. Move with it, hear the time flow and belt it out. Because when the last powerchords ring you want to look back at your preformance with a smile on your face and think, Thats my song!
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Ramblings of an Insomniac III
Every single second of the day that I don't break down and burst into tears is an astonishing accomplishment. It's a tiny pebble moved from the dark mountain that is my always forboding past. Every painted smile is the stage make-up that makes the days slide by with as little scarring as possible.
These empty eyes that sink endlessly into the true me are easily lost in the twists and turns, the infinate gyrating confussion. They convulse violently in the lies spewed by other for thier own personal gain.
People will cling to you until thier needs are fulfilled then they proceed to push you off the ledge of honesty and fidelity. Toss you into the harsh winds and eventually you crash into the hot stone pavement of reality.
Forever jaded are your views of the world. Trust becomes an illusion, It's a tunnel painted convincingly on the side of a building. Placed there strategicly to make you think you have access, that someone holds you near and dear enough to grant you such trust. So you open all the doors and windows. You open every entry point to your soul and psyche and they stroll on in and demolish the place you tidied up just for them.
That's when your warm damp face smacks against the cold solidness of the wall they masquarded. You do the only thing that occurs to you ar the time. Your tired legs buckle under the pressure and you slide back down that indestructable facade. You crumble into a pile of "never agains".
Every tear that drips down that beautiful face yours is made of oozing black tar. Brushing away is pointless, it stays, forever staining your reputation. These tears layer one on top of the other getting heavier and thicker. Soon you can no longer hold your head high. But we are all dark faced figures, slumping forward due to the immense weight of our pain, our mistakes, our loves, loses and beliefs.
These empty eyes that sink endlessly into the true me are easily lost in the twists and turns, the infinate gyrating confussion. They convulse violently in the lies spewed by other for thier own personal gain.
People will cling to you until thier needs are fulfilled then they proceed to push you off the ledge of honesty and fidelity. Toss you into the harsh winds and eventually you crash into the hot stone pavement of reality.
Forever jaded are your views of the world. Trust becomes an illusion, It's a tunnel painted convincingly on the side of a building. Placed there strategicly to make you think you have access, that someone holds you near and dear enough to grant you such trust. So you open all the doors and windows. You open every entry point to your soul and psyche and they stroll on in and demolish the place you tidied up just for them.
That's when your warm damp face smacks against the cold solidness of the wall they masquarded. You do the only thing that occurs to you ar the time. Your tired legs buckle under the pressure and you slide back down that indestructable facade. You crumble into a pile of "never agains".
Every tear that drips down that beautiful face yours is made of oozing black tar. Brushing away is pointless, it stays, forever staining your reputation. These tears layer one on top of the other getting heavier and thicker. Soon you can no longer hold your head high. But we are all dark faced figures, slumping forward due to the immense weight of our pain, our mistakes, our loves, loses and beliefs.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Ramblings of an Insomniac II
Have you ever done this? Have you ever laid down to try to sleep at midnight with your mind racing? Having one thought after another, at first making plans for the days to come, then pondering the present and contimplating the past? Story of my life, although I have never been a sleeper. But I think I may have a cure, thouse if you are like me and long winded (handed) then you still won't lie down to sleep until about 3am. Write it down, whatever it is running through your head before you go to bed even if it doesn't make sense.
So here are my probably incoherant ramblings of an insomniac.
I know you have done this, because I do it all the time. Have you ever had something you were dying to tell someone? A subject that for some reason or another has to mentioned? You sit and practice what you are going to say. You go over it again and again revising the solo conversation until the time comes, when it is flawless and completely memorized no matter how long or complicated it is. Then when the oppertunity comes to give the 'speech' if you will, you either blank out or don't have the guts to say however remedial it is. And the one in a million times you do start your planned dialogue the outcome is not only unexpected, but the worst possible situation.
While we are on the 'Have you ever" subject...Have you ever wished the human brain could be more like an electronic device of some sort? Like a TV? Where you could choose which memories you wanted to reminise upon at that specific moment. Wouldn't it be so much simpler to be able to take that remote control of emotions and say "No, I don't like this station!." when it comes to a bad memory? By the time you're a teenager you whould have your 'brain waves' memorized by which channel they're on and what time they are played. Even if our brain were a computer life would be so much easier. Our memory would be the hard drive space. You could just highlight all the dark sad memories and click the delete button to make room for the better ones. And the sad ones that are attached to happy ones could all be placed in a folder named "Self pity" and only played as needed. So unless you are totally sure you want to be miserable you can be genuinely and blindly happy.
Have you ever done this? You should, It's enlightening....goodnight...I hope.
So here are my probably incoherant ramblings of an insomniac.
I know you have done this, because I do it all the time. Have you ever had something you were dying to tell someone? A subject that for some reason or another has to mentioned? You sit and practice what you are going to say. You go over it again and again revising the solo conversation until the time comes, when it is flawless and completely memorized no matter how long or complicated it is. Then when the oppertunity comes to give the 'speech' if you will, you either blank out or don't have the guts to say however remedial it is. And the one in a million times you do start your planned dialogue the outcome is not only unexpected, but the worst possible situation.
While we are on the 'Have you ever" subject...Have you ever wished the human brain could be more like an electronic device of some sort? Like a TV? Where you could choose which memories you wanted to reminise upon at that specific moment. Wouldn't it be so much simpler to be able to take that remote control of emotions and say "No, I don't like this station!." when it comes to a bad memory? By the time you're a teenager you whould have your 'brain waves' memorized by which channel they're on and what time they are played. Even if our brain were a computer life would be so much easier. Our memory would be the hard drive space. You could just highlight all the dark sad memories and click the delete button to make room for the better ones. And the sad ones that are attached to happy ones could all be placed in a folder named "Self pity" and only played as needed. So unless you are totally sure you want to be miserable you can be genuinely and blindly happy.
Have you ever done this? You should, It's enlightening....goodnight...I hope.
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