Yesterday started out a little rough and nose-dived into a mind-numbing flurry of half formed memories and ideas in my head. The type of day where the chaos in my head creates chaos in my body.
After driving around after work listening to crappy pop music at deafening volumes for hours, I went home and stewed my aching body in a hot bath - with my iPod plugged in and the candles lit. I laid there, nearly comatose, staring at my chipped toenail polish for hours.
What I really wanted to do is call some friends to meet me at the Long Haul. I'd play the jukebox and Big Buck Hunter until I'd run out of laundry quarters. I'd drink too much vodka cranberry and challenge the bartenders to J.D. shot competitions - which would then lead to flirting with 60-year old truck drivers and dancing to 80's big hair bands by myself on the dancefloor with all the regulars mumbling 'what the hell got into that girl?' over their beer mugs.
But I didn't. I got out of the tub, cleaned up cat puke, and crawled into bed contemplating the next day without the man I am fighting desperately to forget.
Maybe I am growing up, if only in unpleasant, sober ways.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
Flashbacks
Edit: I realize these are no fun for anyone else because no one but me knows what they mean... So I've added some context...
Today my beautiful, amazing friend, Lisa, brought me back to 1996 with a simple phrase that nearly made my head reel with it's potent flashback-edness. I've decided to collect a few of these phrases/quotes that take me back 10 or 20 years (god, how scary. 20 years?!). I'll keep adding to the list as I think of them.
EDIT:
Today my beautiful, amazing friend, Lisa, brought me back to 1996 with a simple phrase that nearly made my head reel with it's potent flashback-edness. I've decided to collect a few of these phrases/quotes that take me back 10 or 20 years (god, how scary. 20 years?!). I'll keep adding to the list as I think of them.
- You rock! (A quote from Tina in high school)
- T.R. (Another thing Tina liked to say - T.R. = Thief River)
- Beyond: is that, like, Spanish or something? (Katie misheard Lisa during lunch in school one day, and sent Lisa and I into fits of laughter and relentless teasing)
- M.J. Chicken Legs (Katie's love for Michael Jackson and her comparison of her legs to a chickens made this another relentless harassment)
- Chicka-pow-wow (Jessica anytime love or romance or sex came up)
- My monkey wrote my paper...He said "Eek, Eek." I got an F. (Jessica quoting a comedian or something - she is much more funny than the comedian!)
- Big Tits Magee (What Fabian would call me when he wanted to make me angry)
- Tilly dirl (Another Fabian saying. Tilly dirl = silly girl)
- Electric Blue Eyes (Thor and I singing the Cranberries at the top of our lungs one summer)
- Chitty-chitty-Bang-BAAAAAAANNNNNNGGGGGG! (Jessica - just because we both love Ace Ventura)
- We're lost! >followed by evil laughter< (En route bowling with Adeline and her older siblings. Adeline thought the driver was serious and she cried.)
- Smacker dacker (Trents nickname for Thor and the way his arms flopped when he rode horse.)
- Can I pee in your ****? (Another Fabian jab)
- Cutie (What Fabian always called me)
- It's hot in these rhinos. (My favorite quote of all time. From Ace Ventura)
- Pooper dingy (Trent's nickname for Pepper. Don't know where that one came from but it makes me laugh at it's absurdity.)
- In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight! (When I was really young, dad would sing this song in the barn when he was milking cows.)
- Mama Sita (A Becky saying)
- Heidi Mae 003 (Mr. Bishop called me this in a high school math class. It stuck.)
- SAFE! (Mr. Bishop shouted this out when I tripped while running laps in phy-ed - I fell on my stomach and slide what seemed to be 10 feet with my arms outstretched.)
- Big Bopper (A nickname for Doug)
- Ada (A cow we had that was really mean - always reminds me of a friend of mom's)
- Tuna (A nickname for Tina that she hated)
- You shook me all night long! (Jess & I would sing and dance to this song all those nights of college partying)
- Maybe your girl and my friend can trade; tag team, off the ropes! On the ocean or in the boat! Factories or on hundred spokes! What about up in the candy sto' - that chocolate chocolate make it melt... (Jess and I would blare this song while getting for a long night of partying and trouble-making.)
EDIT:
- Nipples the size of dinner plates. (A conversation between mom and I that Thor accidently heard. I think we traumatized him.)
- They're still nice! (Comment from Chris)
- I suck at this game. (Chris)
To whom it may concern
My dearest Charlie:
In an effort to keep our roommate situation amicable, I have a few issues to bring to your attention.
1. First of all, your total disregard for my company is rude. Your complete and utter lack of acknowledgement, much less greeting, is a discredit to us both. I must ask you to please do your best in welcoming any and all guests into our home and to do so in a loving, kind manner.
2. Your moodiness is out of control. Yes, I know I have my faults as well, but please keep in mind that I do not scowl and hiss at you when I am merely passing through the room – my mood swings are kept quietly to myself. Each day I come home and I wonder if today is the day I will be ripped to shreds by those heinous hind feet of yours or if you will lovingly dance around my ankles. Life is too full of stress and worries as it is and I refuse to sidestep around your moodiness any longer. Granted, we have had a rough go at things. Learning to trust one another has been a long road and I don’t believe either of us have reached ‘trust.’ You have yet to trust me to treat you respectfully and kindly and I have yet to trust you to behave yourself and not prance your fluffy fat ass in the patio window where the landlady can see you and subsequently not kick me out on my fluffy fat ass. These are things we must work on together.
3. Please respect me and my space. I don’t know what your mother taught you but, generally, staring is considered rude. It doesn’t seem to matter what I do but you stare incessantly and I find is disconcerting. Particularly so when I am naked… and you do your head bob… then run to hide under the kitchen table. This hurts my feelings.
4. Another matter is that the bed in our home is my bed. Not your bed. Not your bed when I’m not in it. Not your bed when I am in it! My bed. So, don’t cry and scowl at me when I look to use it.
5. I know that you have a carefree lifestyle in which your nourishment is provided mysteriously from that sack stored under the sink, but a surprise to you would be that during daylight hours I am earning the funds to pay for your chow and would appreciate some peace and quiet when I am trying to rest. Those shoelaces do not magically come alive at 2 a.m. and there is no cause for you to stage a full-blown attack at that time of night. You and Bush can wage war on those poor shoelaces and chair ties from the hours of 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. if you wish; otherwise, zip it.
6. Last but not least, I am not a couch. I realize that I am large and soft, much like a couch, but the similarities don’t mean that I am a couch. Your efforts to be close and snuggle with me (when your mood allows) are endearing and heart-melting. However, when I am dressed for work, or any other time when I will shortly be in public, is not the time for you to settle down with your popcorn and soda on my squishy lap and take a load off. Also, another good time for you to not recline on me is when I am trying to sleep. Your making bread on my boobs while I’m trying to sleep does nothing for the benefit of our living arrangement.
I realize that not all issues in the running of our household are your fault. I have many ugly and embarrassing problems that I must address also to keep a happy home. I will continue to work on my issues, if you will please attempt to work on those mentioned above. Please remember that I do enjoy living with you. It’s nice having someone to come home to and I truly appreciate you wiping my tears and listening to my rantings about boys until all hours of the night. If we can work these few hiccoughs out, I think we’ll both be much happier in the end.
Lovingly yours,
hmv
P.S. Drool. It is not attractive.
In an effort to keep our roommate situation amicable, I have a few issues to bring to your attention.
1. First of all, your total disregard for my company is rude. Your complete and utter lack of acknowledgement, much less greeting, is a discredit to us both. I must ask you to please do your best in welcoming any and all guests into our home and to do so in a loving, kind manner.
2. Your moodiness is out of control. Yes, I know I have my faults as well, but please keep in mind that I do not scowl and hiss at you when I am merely passing through the room – my mood swings are kept quietly to myself. Each day I come home and I wonder if today is the day I will be ripped to shreds by those heinous hind feet of yours or if you will lovingly dance around my ankles. Life is too full of stress and worries as it is and I refuse to sidestep around your moodiness any longer. Granted, we have had a rough go at things. Learning to trust one another has been a long road and I don’t believe either of us have reached ‘trust.’ You have yet to trust me to treat you respectfully and kindly and I have yet to trust you to behave yourself and not prance your fluffy fat ass in the patio window where the landlady can see you and subsequently not kick me out on my fluffy fat ass. These are things we must work on together.
3. Please respect me and my space. I don’t know what your mother taught you but, generally, staring is considered rude. It doesn’t seem to matter what I do but you stare incessantly and I find is disconcerting. Particularly so when I am naked… and you do your head bob… then run to hide under the kitchen table. This hurts my feelings.
4. Another matter is that the bed in our home is my bed. Not your bed. Not your bed when I’m not in it. Not your bed when I am in it! My bed. So, don’t cry and scowl at me when I look to use it.
5. I know that you have a carefree lifestyle in which your nourishment is provided mysteriously from that sack stored under the sink, but a surprise to you would be that during daylight hours I am earning the funds to pay for your chow and would appreciate some peace and quiet when I am trying to rest. Those shoelaces do not magically come alive at 2 a.m. and there is no cause for you to stage a full-blown attack at that time of night. You and Bush can wage war on those poor shoelaces and chair ties from the hours of 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. if you wish; otherwise, zip it.
6. Last but not least, I am not a couch. I realize that I am large and soft, much like a couch, but the similarities don’t mean that I am a couch. Your efforts to be close and snuggle with me (when your mood allows) are endearing and heart-melting. However, when I am dressed for work, or any other time when I will shortly be in public, is not the time for you to settle down with your popcorn and soda on my squishy lap and take a load off. Also, another good time for you to not recline on me is when I am trying to sleep. Your making bread on my boobs while I’m trying to sleep does nothing for the benefit of our living arrangement.
I realize that not all issues in the running of our household are your fault. I have many ugly and embarrassing problems that I must address also to keep a happy home. I will continue to work on my issues, if you will please attempt to work on those mentioned above. Please remember that I do enjoy living with you. It’s nice having someone to come home to and I truly appreciate you wiping my tears and listening to my rantings about boys until all hours of the night. If we can work these few hiccoughs out, I think we’ll both be much happier in the end.
Lovingly yours,
hmv
P.S. Drool. It is not attractive.
Friday, January 25, 2008
On family
No need we power or splendor, wide hall or dome; the good, the true, the tender - these form the wealth of home. --Sarah J. Hale
You can learn many things from children. How much patience you have, for instance. --Franklin P. Jones
Nothing you ever do for children is ever wasted. They seem not to notice us, hovering, averting our eyes; and they seldom offer thanks, but what we do for them is never wasted. --Garrison Keillor
There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One is roots; the other, wings.
A baby is God's opinion that the world should go on. --Carl Sandburg
Making a decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking outside your body. --Elizabeth Stone
You can learn many things from children. How much patience you have, for instance. --Franklin P. Jones
Nothing you ever do for children is ever wasted. They seem not to notice us, hovering, averting our eyes; and they seldom offer thanks, but what we do for them is never wasted. --Garrison Keillor
There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One is roots; the other, wings.
A baby is God's opinion that the world should go on. --Carl Sandburg
Making a decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking outside your body. --Elizabeth Stone
What the books say about love
On being in love:
Our honeymoon was spent on a yacht and with twenty-one children. That is, I sailed a thirty-six-foot Rhodes from seven in the morning till whenever my passengers had enough, and Jenny was a children’s counselor. It was a place called the Pequod Boat Club in Dennis Port (not far from Hyannis), an establishment that included a large hotel, a marina, and several dozen houses for rent. In one of the tinier bungalows, I have nailed an imaginary plaque: “Oliver and Jenny slept here—when they weren’t making love.” I think it’s a tribute to us both that after along day of being kind to our customers, for we were largely dependent on their tips for our income, Jenny and I were nonetheless kind to each other. I simply say “kind,” because I lack the vocabulary to describe what loving and being loved by Jennifer Cavilleri is like. Sorry, I mean Jennifer Barrett. (Love Story– by Erich Segal)
On believing you're in love:
I didn’t know what she wanted, but at that moment, I felt like I did. This is part of the illusion I’m talking about. It makes you think that you’re doing the right thing, that you’re headed down the right path, that the two of you rolling around and sweating and f*cking on a single bed in the dire heat of St. Petersburg, with her suite-mates hanging around drinking wine one flimsy wall away, is the right thing to do. When maybe really all that’s right about it is that it feels good. (Girl Boy Etc– by Michael Weinreb, pg 64)
On trying not to be in love:
What you normally do to extract yourself from this situation is focus on her flaws. They don’t have to be major flaws; perhaps she has a couple of unattractive moles on her lower back. But here’s my question: What happens when you start to cherish her flaws more than her perfections, when you look at that mole and you feel like you could kiss it until your mouth is sore? It’s like I’ve been telling you. My knowledge is limited. (Girl Boy Etc– by Michael Weinreb, pg 79)
Our honeymoon was spent on a yacht and with twenty-one children. That is, I sailed a thirty-six-foot Rhodes from seven in the morning till whenever my passengers had enough, and Jenny was a children’s counselor. It was a place called the Pequod Boat Club in Dennis Port (not far from Hyannis), an establishment that included a large hotel, a marina, and several dozen houses for rent. In one of the tinier bungalows, I have nailed an imaginary plaque: “Oliver and Jenny slept here—when they weren’t making love.” I think it’s a tribute to us both that after along day of being kind to our customers, for we were largely dependent on their tips for our income, Jenny and I were nonetheless kind to each other. I simply say “kind,” because I lack the vocabulary to describe what loving and being loved by Jennifer Cavilleri is like. Sorry, I mean Jennifer Barrett. (Love Story– by Erich Segal)
On believing you're in love:
I didn’t know what she wanted, but at that moment, I felt like I did. This is part of the illusion I’m talking about. It makes you think that you’re doing the right thing, that you’re headed down the right path, that the two of you rolling around and sweating and f*cking on a single bed in the dire heat of St. Petersburg, with her suite-mates hanging around drinking wine one flimsy wall away, is the right thing to do. When maybe really all that’s right about it is that it feels good. (Girl Boy Etc– by Michael Weinreb, pg 64)
On trying not to be in love:
What you normally do to extract yourself from this situation is focus on her flaws. They don’t have to be major flaws; perhaps she has a couple of unattractive moles on her lower back. But here’s my question: What happens when you start to cherish her flaws more than her perfections, when you look at that mole and you feel like you could kiss it until your mouth is sore? It’s like I’ve been telling you. My knowledge is limited. (Girl Boy Etc– by Michael Weinreb, pg 79)
Thursday, January 24, 2008
What the Dooce?
Ok - so only recently have I caught onto the glory of Dooce.... She's magical in her ability to make me laugh at the everyday obsurdities of life and often times I find myself giggling through my tears. Also, she's a couple years older than me and it's comforting to know that she thought/felt/did some of the things that I have thought/felt/done (and have never dared confess) and she survived! Maybe I will too.
Today, during my bagel and banana lunch, I came across an archive that made me cry on my banana... Below is the part that makes my guts curl into teeny tiny knots that may be suitable for party confetti but you can find the whole blog here.
"Best Day of 2003: Wednesday, May 28, the day we found out I was pregnant. We'd bought a pregnancy test and were holding on to it, trying to wait long enough to use it after my missed period to ensure an accurate reading. And we were going to try and wait seven days, but about 36 hours after buying the test, neither of us could sleep, and like two ten-year-old kids digging through mom's closet to find Christmas presents, we broke out the test at 4:30am that morning. That second pink line on the test showed up within about four seconds, before I could even set it down on the countertop in the bathroom, and Jon and I nearly killed each other with hugs and screams and flailing gangly arms. It was a moment I had fantasized about since the first 30 seconds of meeting him. For the next three hours we sat in bed resisting the urge to call EVERY SINGLE PERSON we know and trying to come up with names and ways in which we could guarantee that the baby never grows up to become a Republican."
Today, during my bagel and banana lunch, I came across an archive that made me cry on my banana... Below is the part that makes my guts curl into teeny tiny knots that may be suitable for party confetti but you can find the whole blog here.
"Best Day of 2003: Wednesday, May 28, the day we found out I was pregnant. We'd bought a pregnancy test and were holding on to it, trying to wait long enough to use it after my missed period to ensure an accurate reading. And we were going to try and wait seven days, but about 36 hours after buying the test, neither of us could sleep, and like two ten-year-old kids digging through mom's closet to find Christmas presents, we broke out the test at 4:30am that morning. That second pink line on the test showed up within about four seconds, before I could even set it down on the countertop in the bathroom, and Jon and I nearly killed each other with hugs and screams and flailing gangly arms. It was a moment I had fantasized about since the first 30 seconds of meeting him. For the next three hours we sat in bed resisting the urge to call EVERY SINGLE PERSON we know and trying to come up with names and ways in which we could guarantee that the baby never grows up to become a Republican."
Thursday, January 17, 2008
The war is ON!
Lately, I have been such an incredible slacker. I've been eating HORRIBLY and not exercising at all. It's like I want to punish myself and see how truly morbidly obese I can get. I get so disgusted with myself and think I'm done with this self-sabotage, and then the next minute I'm shoving more food in my mouth. I know it's purely psychological. I can feel it (realize it?) more now than I have EVER felt/realized it. When I'm feeling low all I can think about is ordering some delux nachos or that yummy fettucini alfredo (extra parmesan, please!), how that chicken club at Wendys would really hit the spot. And it's not like I eat it every day, so why would this second serving this week kill me? Because tomorrow, I'll think that how a third serving won't really kill me either, because I really (really) don't do this every week.
Last night on my way home from hanging with a friend, I was feeling low and actually resisted the urge to gorge myself... actually the truth is I couldn't find a single speck of junk food in the house (luckily!) and went to bed thinking about how it really isn't too pathetic going through the KFC drive-through at 12:30 in the morning just for a bucket of wings. I didn't. But I was sure tempted. I'm terrified of this obsession in me now - I don't know that I've ever gotten this carried away with eating crap - at least I've never realized it to this extent before! And the stupid thing is - the thing that should make me stop this disgusting behavior - that giving in and eating my guts out only makes me feel worse. It's like I'm trying to fill the hole in my heart with food. It's disgusting and depressing and somewhat surprising and I don't know how to end it.
Tonight, I'm going out with friends again. I have made a promise to myself that I will not go out, I will not eat supper, I will not bring a drop of vodka to my lips, I will not take another breath, unless I make it to the gym first. I need to go and sweat my tail off. Maybe then, I can shed some of this gunk and start reversing the self-destruct. Maybe then, I'll have the energy to drag my sorry ass out of bed in the morning, maybe then I'll feel healthier and more alive, maybe then I'll have the strength to stop myself from eating the 10th cookie... or even the first one.
Last night on my way home from hanging with a friend, I was feeling low and actually resisted the urge to gorge myself... actually the truth is I couldn't find a single speck of junk food in the house (luckily!) and went to bed thinking about how it really isn't too pathetic going through the KFC drive-through at 12:30 in the morning just for a bucket of wings. I didn't. But I was sure tempted. I'm terrified of this obsession in me now - I don't know that I've ever gotten this carried away with eating crap - at least I've never realized it to this extent before! And the stupid thing is - the thing that should make me stop this disgusting behavior - that giving in and eating my guts out only makes me feel worse. It's like I'm trying to fill the hole in my heart with food. It's disgusting and depressing and somewhat surprising and I don't know how to end it.
Tonight, I'm going out with friends again. I have made a promise to myself that I will not go out, I will not eat supper, I will not bring a drop of vodka to my lips, I will not take another breath, unless I make it to the gym first. I need to go and sweat my tail off. Maybe then, I can shed some of this gunk and start reversing the self-destruct. Maybe then, I'll have the energy to drag my sorry ass out of bed in the morning, maybe then I'll feel healthier and more alive, maybe then I'll have the strength to stop myself from eating the 10th cookie... or even the first one.
Quotes
Because you know if you play New Kids on the Block albums backwards they sound better. "Oh come on, Bill, they're the New Kids, don't pick on them, they're so good and they're so clean cut and they're such a good image for the children." F*ck that! When did mediocrity and banality become a good image for your children? I want my children to listen to people who f*cking ROCKED! I don't care if they died in puddles of their own vomit! I want someone who plays from his f*cking HEART! --Bill Hicks
Always do sober what you said you'd do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut. --Ernest Hemingway
I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, you know? --Ernest Hemingway
The truth is, everyone’s going to hurt you. You just have to decide who’s worth the pain.
I asked God to take away my habit.
God said, No. It is not for me to take away, but for you to give it up.
I asked God to make my handicapped child whole.
God said, No. His spirit is whole, his body is only temporary.
I asked God to grant me patience.
God said, No. Patience is a byproduct of tribulations; it isn't granted, it is learned.
I asked God to give me happiness.
God said, No. I give you blessings; Happiness is up to you.
I asked God to spare me pain.
God said, No. Suffering draws you apart from worldly cares and brings you closer to me.
I asked God to make my spirit grow.
God said, No. You must grow on your own, but I will prune you to make you fruitful.
I asked God for all things that I might enjoy life.
God said, No. I will give you life, so that you may enjoy all things.
I asked God to help me LOVE others, as much as He loves me.
God said...Ahhhh, finally you have the idea.
Every time you see a beautiful woman, just remember, somebody got tired of her.
Be kinder than necessary, because everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.
If not for our insistence that things be the way we want them to be, we would be happy most of the time.
May today there be peace within.
May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.
May you use those gifts that you have received and pass on the love that has been given to you.
May you be content knowing you are a child of God.
Let this presence settle into your bones and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise, and love.
It is there for each and every one of us.
Always do sober what you said you'd do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut. --Ernest Hemingway
I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, you know? --Ernest Hemingway
The truth is, everyone’s going to hurt you. You just have to decide who’s worth the pain.
I asked God to take away my habit.
God said, No. It is not for me to take away, but for you to give it up.
I asked God to make my handicapped child whole.
God said, No. His spirit is whole, his body is only temporary.
I asked God to grant me patience.
God said, No. Patience is a byproduct of tribulations; it isn't granted, it is learned.
I asked God to give me happiness.
God said, No. I give you blessings; Happiness is up to you.
I asked God to spare me pain.
God said, No. Suffering draws you apart from worldly cares and brings you closer to me.
I asked God to make my spirit grow.
God said, No. You must grow on your own, but I will prune you to make you fruitful.
I asked God for all things that I might enjoy life.
God said, No. I will give you life, so that you may enjoy all things.
I asked God to help me LOVE others, as much as He loves me.
God said...Ahhhh, finally you have the idea.
Every time you see a beautiful woman, just remember, somebody got tired of her.
Be kinder than necessary, because everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.
If not for our insistence that things be the way we want them to be, we would be happy most of the time.
May today there be peace within.
May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.
May you use those gifts that you have received and pass on the love that has been given to you.
May you be content knowing you are a child of God.
Let this presence settle into your bones and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise, and love.
It is there for each and every one of us.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Relief
Today I feel immense relief.
Last night I ran several errands and completed some things that had been nagging me. I wrote a peace treaty with myself. I talked to my brother and my cousin on the phone. I made some plans for some fun (drinks with friends, Red Lobster lunch) and finally... slept... soundly and completely for nearly 7 hours. Solid rest is invaluable.
Work has been incredibly busy today and sometimes stressful. But I love it. My mind is buzzing. I'm helping those people that need me and I feel productive and useful.
Today my glass is half full. I can't tell you how great that feels.
Last night I ran several errands and completed some things that had been nagging me. I wrote a peace treaty with myself. I talked to my brother and my cousin on the phone. I made some plans for some fun (drinks with friends, Red Lobster lunch) and finally... slept... soundly and completely for nearly 7 hours. Solid rest is invaluable.
Work has been incredibly busy today and sometimes stressful. But I love it. My mind is buzzing. I'm helping those people that need me and I feel productive and useful.
Today my glass is half full. I can't tell you how great that feels.
Monday, January 7, 2008
What I learned in 2007
Always trust my gut
Love myself so others can too
Know when to cash in your chips
Things happen for reasons and sometimes it’s just not in the cards for us to know why
People will always disappoint you; the trick is to not disappoint yourself
Confidence and hard work are their own rewards
Rich, important people are not better than me; they’re just rich and… important
People treat you how you teach them to treat you
God does love me
“Party friends” are still friends and definitely worth having
People come and go in this life time, but what matters is treasuring them while you’ve got them
Love is never enough
I thrive under stress and deadlines
What it all boils down to is being safe and loved, the rest is just fluff
Love has nothing to do with it
Well, I asked. And I received the answer I feared the most. The first steps to the whole moving on process has taken place. Funny thing is - it's hard to sleep when hope is lost. You'd think sleep would be easier. It's not like I could ramble wonderful possibilities or the shoulda/coulda/woulda's through my brain. There are no possibilities when there's no hope and I've been through all the s/c/w's. I tried to focus on how this moving on is a good thing but I couldn't convince myself. All I could think of were all the tomorrow's that don't involve him. Every fun, wonderful thing in my life that I would like to share with him, but can't. It's like looking down a long black tunnel.
Next steps: Take back me. Become fit. Work hard. Play harder. Fall in love with myself. It's not going to be easy but at this point, it's all I've got.
Next steps: Take back me. Become fit. Work hard. Play harder. Fall in love with myself. It's not going to be easy but at this point, it's all I've got.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Down with homework!
I have been cooped up in the house for 7 (count them, s-e-v-e-n) days now with a nasty cold. I made a sorry attempt at some New Years celebration and I also braved a day of work on Thursday much to my regret. The hacking and oozing of things from face are not pretty or easy to disguise at work.
Being cooped up at home does nothing for my mood. Nothing. I can't wait to get back to work and feel productive. I haven't seen any friends since New Years Eve, have done no socializing, barely spoken to anyone on the phone mostly because I sound like a man and have coughing fits that are less than musical. Friends and family don't want to spend an hour on the phone listening to me cough at them. All of this brings me down to a bottom of the bucket mood. Then you add the "man" factor to the mix and I'm a down-right ornery hag.
Taking into consideration my already foul mood, I'm surprised daily by how difficult life is. To rise above the frustrations and hurts and irritations is a full-time job! Maybe it's not that way for everyone... because I know I'm a sensitive person. I have finally accepted that fact about myself. Is it really some quarter-life crisis type situation where most people my age go through this personal inventory and find that they are lacking? Or is just me? Life seems, to me, to be a huge sequence of lessons. I don't want anymore lessons!! Can't I go on summer break for the next 3 months? Some smooth sailing- just pure fun for just a little while? That was my hope for 2008, but I've been disappointed so far... it's just the next round of lessons, right where we left off in 2007... Moving on from obsessive/compulsive psychology straight into ancient history.
Being cooped up at home does nothing for my mood. Nothing. I can't wait to get back to work and feel productive. I haven't seen any friends since New Years Eve, have done no socializing, barely spoken to anyone on the phone mostly because I sound like a man and have coughing fits that are less than musical. Friends and family don't want to spend an hour on the phone listening to me cough at them. All of this brings me down to a bottom of the bucket mood. Then you add the "man" factor to the mix and I'm a down-right ornery hag.
Taking into consideration my already foul mood, I'm surprised daily by how difficult life is. To rise above the frustrations and hurts and irritations is a full-time job! Maybe it's not that way for everyone... because I know I'm a sensitive person. I have finally accepted that fact about myself. Is it really some quarter-life crisis type situation where most people my age go through this personal inventory and find that they are lacking? Or is just me? Life seems, to me, to be a huge sequence of lessons. I don't want anymore lessons!! Can't I go on summer break for the next 3 months? Some smooth sailing- just pure fun for just a little while? That was my hope for 2008, but I've been disappointed so far... it's just the next round of lessons, right where we left off in 2007... Moving on from obsessive/compulsive psychology straight into ancient history.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
What's love got to do with it?
I watched the movie Evan Almighty this past weekend. Mostly it was a cheesy, ridiculous waste of an hour and a half but there was a couple lines of the movie that made me stop and spin my wheels a bit. There was a part where God had told Evan, “Ask and you shall receive” and he went on to say, “Let me ask you something. If someone prays for patience, you think God gives them patience? Or does he give them the opportunity to be patient? If he prayed for courage, does God give him courage, or does he give him opportunities to be courageous? If someone prayed for the family to be closer, do you think God zaps them with warm fuzzy feelings, or does he give them opportunities to love each other?”
A long time ago, I asked God for love in my life; someone to love. For a long time, I had this reservoir of love inside me that seemed to be going to waste. It was overwhelming sometimes and if you’ve ever been single for any amount of time, you know what I’m talking about... the ache to have someone in your life that you are crazy about, someone to have inside jokes with, to share all those tiny stupid things that no one else cares about, the person who makes you want to be a better person and do everything in your power to make them happy. I already possessed the love; I really just needed the opportunity to practice it. He sent me C.
The first night I met C, I could see the hurt in his eyes and felt it in my own heart. I have felt it all along. I asked for someone to love and God provided someone who needed love. (Although, C may disagree.) I could have (should have!) asked for someone who loves me back – but that doesn’t matter anymore, the good times and bad times don’t matter anymore either – because I have finally figured out why he’s in my life. I’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing. It’s hurt along the way, sometimes a whole lot, and other times I’ve just been sad that I can’t take his pain away. But I had a reservoir to use and I asked for the opportunity to use it. And that’s what I’ve been doing. To what end? I’m not sure yet. But I’m sure if I ask, He’ll let me know.
I'm terrified of His answer.
A long time ago, I asked God for love in my life; someone to love. For a long time, I had this reservoir of love inside me that seemed to be going to waste. It was overwhelming sometimes and if you’ve ever been single for any amount of time, you know what I’m talking about... the ache to have someone in your life that you are crazy about, someone to have inside jokes with, to share all those tiny stupid things that no one else cares about, the person who makes you want to be a better person and do everything in your power to make them happy. I already possessed the love; I really just needed the opportunity to practice it. He sent me C.
The first night I met C, I could see the hurt in his eyes and felt it in my own heart. I have felt it all along. I asked for someone to love and God provided someone who needed love. (Although, C may disagree.) I could have (should have!) asked for someone who loves me back – but that doesn’t matter anymore, the good times and bad times don’t matter anymore either – because I have finally figured out why he’s in my life. I’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing. It’s hurt along the way, sometimes a whole lot, and other times I’ve just been sad that I can’t take his pain away. But I had a reservoir to use and I asked for the opportunity to use it. And that’s what I’ve been doing. To what end? I’m not sure yet. But I’m sure if I ask, He’ll let me know.
I'm terrified of His answer.
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