In which we talk about weird dreams

couple nights ago, i had a really, really weird dream. I want to write it down before I forget.

So it started out on a ship...Set in early 1900's. I wasn't myself. I was someone else. This someone else was in love with two men, but she didn't know it yet. She ignored the one and adored the other. But the ship set sail and she left the man she adored on the shore. The man she was trying to ignore was on the ship with her, and she had insulted him so they didn't talk much. But it was a gradually closing distance. They watched each other from across the ship. Then, one day he was playing chess with someone and happened to look up at her and she knew. Like I had known the whole time, that she loved him.
It is so weird how dreams let you feel that. I haven't crushed on someone, like really crushed on someone for years. But I felt it here.

The dream changed. I walked on an ocean that was a path. From my left and from my right the wind gusted at me. My hair stood strait up, it didn't have time to fall because the wind was so constant. The ocean path was narrow. On either side of it was a grave yard. And I could hear my mom in my head telling me how very morbid this all was. So I pulled out my ipod and picked out an Evanescence song. . .because it seemed appropriate. (is that random? yes.)

I turned from the ocean path to wander into the graveyard. it was yellow. the grass was all dead. there was a certain air of unrest that i got. Normally graveyards strike me as eerie and heavy with history, but peaceful. This one was different. There were cats all over.
(I hate cats. It's a hate that's been growing since my youth. This Christmas Eve, my g-ma's cat pushed me over the edge and now I can say I -udderly- loath cats. Anyhoo, that's a story for a different time......heh, udderly.)
I knew I was somewhere in the Southern states, and I knew that I lived with these two old ladies who owned tons of cats and were keepers of the graveyard. Our house was like a modified crypt combined with an old farmhouse.
Elly was visiting me there. We were eating breakfast and she thought it would be funny to put catnip into my milk....which I didn't notice till halfway through the meal. By that time I had catnip stuck all over the inside of my mouth. I went over to the sink and began to dislodge it from my mouth. It was stuck on the roof of my mouth and underneath my tongue. (ew.)

And then I woke up and promptly realized that the top half of my retainer was no longer in my mouth. I must have taken it out, thinking it was catnip. It was 6:45 am. I searched unsuccessfully for it and laid back down. I thought about how I hate the orthodontist until I fell back asleep.
At noon, when I woke up for realsies, I found the retainer in the crack between my bed and the wall. Thankfully it was not squished or covered in cobwebs of any sort.

The End.


I don't tend to think my dreams mean anything. They are more often random than not...but the whole ocean and graveyard thing was so abstract and so different from what I normally dream....usually my dreams are a bit more of a down to earth brand of weird...i don't know how to explain it, it was just a strange dream and I keep thinking about it.

I feel funny. Odd. Like I've been thawed from carbonite. Or like I've been pulled from the hole in the ground and escaped from Wonderland. Like that talking doorknob was finally opened from the other side, and I was pulled out. I feel like I had fallen asleep and very gradually my fingers and toes are getting that prickly sensation you get when the blood is having a hard time getting to them. And like my dream, I do feel like the wind is coming at me from either side and my hair's standing on end. But I love it. The wind is reminding me that I am alive. As cheese ball as that sounds.
My life has a new meaning lately.

I haven't gone outside much this winter. The last couple of years, I've made a point to. Me and winter like each other. This year, I just haven't...dunno why.

There's this John Mayer song called Half of My Heart that I'm in love with right now. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0xlOQ0ySpVY
It talks about loving someone half-heartedly. And if I'm honest, that's how my attitude is right now towards God. I wish it wasn't but there's still that half of me that says "Uh, we ain't doin that again. Look at this, it's easier."
The problem is that I am not a half hearted kinda person. I tend to be more of an all or nothing kinda gal. And what happens is I end up living two lives.

I'm not saying I want to be this way, but reality often contradicts our wishes. Whenever I think of it, all I can do is throw my hands up in surrender. Because I know that if I try, I'm gonna mess it up more. It's a strange and new "I am nothing" concept for me.

I could keep writing but I think that's enough for today considering I dumped all the crazy dream stuff on ya. Apologies.

What is a dream that sticks out in you memory? Do y'all think dreams have meaning?

Will you know me?

Bare with me here. I just really want to post this. I realize it's not the wisest thing to do but to paraphrase a brilliant person (during Dollhouse), freedom is being allowed to make your own mistakes. This very well may be one of those mistakes. This crazy person likes to publicize their mistakes as much as possible.

This is a sort of letter, in a series of letters written to a lost friend of mine.
I am not publicizing so that they see it, necessarily. But because today I remembered what it was like to hug someone. Without going out of my way to seem any more emo than I already do, this is my way of letting you all know me. I want so very badly to be known by someone. I wish I could walk around with an x-ray all the time so you all could always see my guts. To hell with the radiation side effects. It would be worth the extra heads I'd grow.
Please, please, please do not mistake this as an act of bravery. I am a coward, a desperately lonely one.





I woke this morning and remembered I dreamed of you last night.

I don't think you'll ever know how disturbing that is to me.

Not because you were mean in the dream, cause you weren't.

I can't remember what I dreamt, but I think you were trying to make me better. To fix me.

I am broken, you know. I don't know how I got this way. Don't worry, all my theories lead me to believe it was my fault.

I'll tell you why the dream is upsetting to me.

It's cause I'm trying to move on.

Honestly trying. Not half-heartedly, sorta doing it. I have surrendered to the change, the reality of not seeing you everyday but still wishing to. And I am shooting my thoughts of you out of the sky, so that maybe one day I won't think to wonder where you are and what you dreamed about last night.

I'm letting you go, so that I can breathe again.

I've been doing well. I've been succeeding in a strange way that feels akin to amputating an arm. Then I dream of you and I have the phantom pains, like I am on the outside of the window looking in on your life and you looking at mine. And God knows, that dammit, it hurts. But He isn't telling why.

In my mind you are the same person who looked at me silently, doing everything in your power to make it better. To undo it from the very beginning.

Perhaps that's why it hurts.




The end.

I try to post a link every time I update. On So You Think You Can Dance this week, on of the girls, Kathryn, used this song for her solo. I tried to find video of that. (it was beautiful) It's actually not letting me post anything for some reason right now, so go to youtube and look up Brooke Fraser's Shadowfeet. It's my song of the week.

oh, and i've decided not to apologize for my written language. I think the words all the time, and my writing exposes my heart of hearts. I only speak da bad words when it's fitting and in the right company. cause i work with kids, live with an 8 year-old sister and I don't want to form any sort of verbal habit...or give my mom a heart attack. However, it's already a mental habit and is manifesting onto my pages. o wells. there are worse things.

Guilty Truth: 24's Torture Scenes Are My Favorite

I'm gonna be upfront with you. I used to think that church was like a club where we all grasped the same truth that God accepts us all the way we are...That the truth bonded us together, and I for one was at a loss of how to convey this truth to others. It was bigger than words. I thought we all understood. That it was an inherent truth.

I don't know how to say this without insulting everybody. Perhaps I can just preface it with a "I really don't mean this meanly, it's just how I see things and it's a horrible truth. And I apologize in advance." I don't know if that'll help, but I've said it and I won't repeat it.

I feel like there is a happy little box that church labels as "good" and if you don't fit in that box, well, too bad for your sorry behind. I'm not saying God says this, it's all the human doing. Heck, it's my doing.
I haven't realized I felt this way until recently, but I had the thought and then looked back over my experiences with church people. Overwhelmingly, I remembered feeling that I was the weirdo that should go sit in the corner and shut my mouth. It was never anything tangible. There's no real offense to be mentioned. Just the air of the people around me. Particularly when I shaved my head...and when I carved a "P" in my arm...and when I wore torn up jeans to services. It was never anything anyone said, but rather the frowns and the way the crowds parted to make way for you...like you're contagious. That's all.

I am just as guilty in this. I've accepted the satus quo instead of naming my claim as an equally pleasing child of God. I've allowed myself to think of certain persons as "church royalty." There would be boys that I crushed on, but left alone because they were in a different "class" than myself. I've allowed myself to believe that others thought of me as a charity case because I don't wear the spiffiest clothes (nor did I care to, by the way,) which was judging them just as harshly as they judged me. Except I was actually judging, they were just wonderful people. If they were judging, it's between them and God. None of my beezwax.

I'm not writing this to rant or get it out of my system, which I will admit, is usually why I write. But instead, I'd like to pose a question; Why are we like this? What are we missing?
It's like we compete against each other. Like we're afraid of one another. What's up with that? (ooooooweeeeee) It makes me think that every single one of us is oblivious. We are so clueless.

I was watching Lady GaGa on Ellen (I promise I'm not obsessed,) and she was talking about how she was always the weirdo in high school and never felt like she fit in. So her show is meant to create an atmosphere where people feel accepted. She says she is the freak so people have someone to relate to. That's something that draws people. And at church people have become experts at judging and rejecting people in their own passive aggressive way. I'm not saying that we as the church need to be all accepting and place band-aids over sin. But on the other rim of the teacup, I do not believe it is our job to condemn anyone.
Not saying I have it all figured out. Quite the contrary, I believe attention needs to be called here. And I want to be held accountable for my own thoughts and actions, and hope someone else can maybe relate.

Let me tell you something else that will probably offend you; I believe every one of us are freaks. It's all a matter of what we are freaky about and how well we hide it.
As it turns out, Christians are great at pretending they aren't freaks. In reality, I believe we are called to be Jesus Freaks.

So just to prove that I am a freak, I will tell you some things that may make me socially unacceptable in your eyes.
-I watch 24 just for the torture scenes.
-Lady GaGa made me cry today, -no joke- and Poker Face is the second most played song on my ipod.
-I love the feeling of no hair on my head.
-I used to want to be an assassin as a kid, thought it'd be pretty cool.
-Then I really wanted to be a pirate after that.
-I have always hated the thought of getting married and having kids, it just sounds so obnoxiously boring to me.
-The Twilight books sucked me in. (heh) I couldn't put 'em down.
-I adore being angry. It's odd, I know. I just love the feeling. I wish I could be angry more often.
-I have a drawer full of chocolates and stuff that open when I'm feeling distressed.
-I'm freakishly over protective of everyone I know. To the point of ruining relationships.
-I have a few Imaginary Friends still. Not the scary kind. Just imaginary characters that I am extremely well acquainted with.
-I'm a Gleek. That show made me cry a few times too. (I'm pathetic, I know.)
-I have a brain and I use it to make thoughts. Again, I apologize if this is offensive or threatening to you.
-I 'm a fangirl and also a fanfiction author.....yeah.
-Right now, I'm reading "Pride and Prejudice and Zombies" and I luff-...I luff-...I love it.
-Oooh, and I'm an escapist. I disappear from my problems into books and movies and TV shows or just thinking up my own stories. Anything but dealing with real life. it's an addiction to fiction.

I think that's enough. You get it. That's all. I hope I haven't lost any friend over this....*sigh*

On a different subject. I'd like to inform you all that I am crying a lot recently! It's wonderful. I would blame global warming, but there are some undeniable God fingerprints all over this. (For those of you who don't know, I have been emotionally constipated for like two years now.) That seems dumb and overly dramatic at the same time, but I feel like it is a sign of the changing seasons in my life. From winter to spring. Lord willing.

there's nothing else to say. that's it. i wish i could think of a video to post here. thought about posting the GaGa video that made me cry, but i figure i'd stop freaking you out today. if you're feeling brave, the song is called "Speechless." and she talks about it on Ellen. So look up the interview with Ellen first, then listen to the song. She talks about it in the very end......I'll shut my yapper now.

Pen Theif

This is my first paper for my english comp class i'm in right now. thought you'd maybe like to read it.


We were grocery shopping in the best store in the history of all time. At least to a hungry seven-year-old it was the best. When we walked through Sam’s glass doors, my little sister and I walking beside my mom who pushed a cart with my baby brother in his little baby carrier in it, every one of us would smell why it was the best store ever. It was the smell of at least five different food samples set up throughout the store. My stomach always seemed to turn into a never ending cavern when we would visit Sam’s. My tummy’s growl would echo through the skyscraping aisles of boxed foods. Our noses were always fixed in an upward sniffing pose, so we could sense when one of those hunched over old ladies were right around the corner with her cart of quarter sized samples of tasty free foods to serve to us with a smile from beneath a hairnet.

On one such grocery store trip, we had finished and were all lined up at the checkout, little brother and sister in the cart and me beside my mom. I remember my mom was so much taller than me. That seems like an obvious statement, but she was. She lived up in the clouds of adult land where they were all super tall. Adults spoke a language I didn’t quite understand. They had big reasons for their every little action and harsh, almost irrational reactions to match. Now that I live in this world of tall people as one of them myself, I was shocked to discover that the air they breathe is in fact quite similar to the air I grew up on. They were not chemically altered, just older and perhaps more understanding than I had originally supposed. Right at that moment, my ethereal mother was focused on loading the groceries onto the conveyor belt-thing and I was focused on the wall of candy to my right, drooling.

A minute later, my mother’s voice drifted down to me from the clouds pleasantly, “Bree, could you grab me my pen, hon’?”

I looked back up at her. Her attention had already returned to the checker, her hair a long, brunette curtain between me and her face. I was on my own.

A pen. I could do that. I was the oldest after all. I could find a pen.

My eyes flew about my immediate surroundings in search of a pen for my mom. Candy wall; no. Cart with brother and sister; no. My mom, obviously no. The checkout opposite ours; yes! There resting on the cash register of the adjacent checkout were two blue pens resting on the lip of the grey register. What could he possibly need two pens for? The man guarding the register had his back to me; he was helping a woman on the other side of his counter.

I glanced back to my mom. Her eyes were still fixed on what she was doing.

Sluggishly, I turned back to the man with the two pens in sight sitting side by side, unused on his register. I knew what I had to do. I reached up and took one. And just as my hand began to pull that blue and white pen away from the man, he turned and looked right at me. I froze. He just looked at me. His thin lips turned down in a disgusted manner that matched his eyes which were poking holes into my resolve. I tingled with fear. My mouth stood open and I felt like my eyes must have been taking up the majority of the room on my face, they were so wide. This man was going to call the police. I was going to jail. Maybe mom didn’t need the pen this much. But it was in my hand and the man had already seen me. I was already doomed.

I spun round and gave the pen to my mom.

She looked at it, sort of confused. I stared up at her, waiting for her grateful response. Instead she quirked a half smile at me and questioned lightly, “Where’d you get this?”

Wordlessly, I pointed a thumb at the man behind us, somewhat astounded that she cared where it came from and nervous that she somehow knew the crime I’d committed to attain the pen. I felt compelled to explain myself. She would know the truth before they carted me off. “You said to get you a pen and I couldn’t find any, but he had two so I took his.”

“Oh, I meant that one.” She smiled at me easily and pointed at the floor. There on the grey cement was a red pen. It guffawed at me. I picked it up and gave it to my mom, who gave me a distracted “thanks, honey” and returned to loading the purchased food into the cart after dropping the villainous pen into her purse.

We walked out of the Sam’s and no one came to arrest me. I was home free. It wasn’t until a few years later that I understood why the man with two pens didn’t have me tossed in jail. All the same, I never was comfortable in Sam’s again. In my mind I was a wanted criminal there. They probably had my picture from the surveillance cameras. I was not welcome in the store of yummy sample foods.

Perhaps I was an overly dramatic kid.

Somehow this need to always look over my shoulder still sticks with me. Like any moment, a police officer or a teacher or an elder from church will realize that I am a pen thief. I realize that now that I am an adult, I should be able to look back at this moment and laugh and I do try to, but honestly thinking of it sends me right back to that store and injects me full of the hunted feeling that pervaded me that day. I have learned over time though that fears are often irrational and that the best way to defeat them is to live your life anyway. That’s what I do.

End Paper. We were required to write an author's note as well. so here you go.

I chose this event because it was something I remember very vividly. It was also a scene that I knew was short enough that I could really pay attention to the detail. Also it was something that
I knew affected me…Even if I hadn’t figured out how, yet.

When I decided that I would use the pen thieving incident, I drew up a little sketch of the main points I knew I wanted to have and wrote it out. I guess I tried to put myself back in the moment as much as I could and tried to remember not just that moment but other stuff from my childhood. Like I remember looking up at my mom all the time and wondering how the heck someone gets so tall.

To show the significance of the moment, I tried to explain exactly what I thought would happen as if it were real. I was convinced that I would get arrested for that; there was no doubt in my mind. I wanted to convey the irrational thought to the reader like it was completely rational, to try and show them where I was coming from. I think that might have been why it was so hard for me to add in reflections about where I am now.

Writing this really made me think about how completely groundless this fear is. All of it was a misunderstanding. It also helped me to make the connection between this event and my fear of anyone with authority over me. It still freaks me out to buy things myself. I don’t go into stores by myself; I always have friends with me. I try to have the money out to pay as soon as I can so I can leave without any hiccups. It’s not just that, though. It’s when I drive by police men. It’s in school, I try to disappear into the other students and do the work so there’s no reason for teachers to come after me. But I know that just by living life, day by day and being conscious of my fear helps me overcome it. I am a teacher now, I teach swimming lessons. So that part of the fear is pretty much extinct. I figure that if I go through the check out enough, someday it will be no problem.

Even though this event was a vivid one, it still was a long time ago and some of the details are fuzzy. I just had to make up new ones. I also had a really hard time with sticking the reflection in there. Maybe it is such a negative event to me, I don’t know. Perhaps it’s because I still haven’t figured out why it affects me so much. Just because I know I shouldn’t be afraid doesn’t mean I’m not. That frustrates me. I also felt like the reflections were just hard to fit in, like it almost didn’t make sense for me to put it in. It seemed to interrupt the flow for me. The story is very much written from the perspective of a seven-year-old; it felt weird sticking in an adult’s perspective.

All in all, I’m satisfied with the essay. I think it has a gradual build. I like the humor it has in it. I like the dialogue, how it is the catalyst to my conflict. I don’t like the reflections. I think they came out awkward. I like it right now, but next week I probably will have changed my opinion.

I have to post this video. This song is every bit me, right now. It's the process I've been in for forever.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_WaVv874DfE


The knowledge that I should stop this is never enough to actually stop me. In a matter of weeks I'll want it back and I'll feel guilty for neglecting it and have to grovel which will not help anything. It's less work to just maintain the connection I have to it.

Everything is so busy right now. How bizarre that only a couple weeks after the fall starts, my life is stacked with volumes of people and worries that it should be bursting were I to adhere to previous standards of busy-ness. But it's not. And I like it like this. It's beautiful chaos. A never ending tumble-dry setting to rid me of the rain.
Seasons.

I like that my life is no longer defined by desolation. I also like that it was not some boy that pulled me out of the hole I was living in.

Speaking of boys, I am irked by people's apparent desire to set me up with them. Firstly I did not just finish 14 years of school to just settle down. Forget it.
Secondly I refuse to be the pretty, dolled-up girl they require of me. I am not a prize to be won. I'm not something to obtain. I am not something to do. I am not something to complete them. I'm not sure what I am per say, but I know what I am not.
Thirdly I have a lot of decisions to make at this juncture and I'd like to make them without having to consider a "soul mate" into the equation.

Sometimes I think people take relationships way too lightly and loneliness too seriously. Loneliness won't kill ya. Not unless you live in Hollywood. Take it easy. Don't sell yourself out for a little, short term comfort.

I think everyone may have forgotten about blogs.

.............



I started school a few weeks ago. Ironically, I am loving school now. I think it was wise to break for a year. I had 14 strait years of school, for heaven's sake. That's a lot. A person deserves a break. I am ready for the challenge. We'll see how long my enthusiasm lasts.



I am really feeling a lot better, mentally. Truly. I'm not just saying it.
I do think that I am a little addicted to the feeling of grieving something. I have nothing left to grieve anymore really. But I think it might only be a matter of time before I dig something else up. I don't think I can stand to go too long without that achy feeling in my chest. Weird, no? I don't know what that is. I'm just telling you.



My fish tanks need cleaning. I am sooooo very tired all the time. I think I've already written on here that I've read somewhere the insomniacs experience a feeling of euphoria when they are really sleep deprived....which I don't disagree with. I just lay there and think about everything. Seriously everything. Until my eyes start making funny shapes out of the shadows.



I think the thing that I wonder about most is how all these amazing things are happening in the lives of the people I love. Amazing God things.

I feel nothing....Nothing but that empty nothing-ness sort of feeling.

Now, I know feelings are dumb. They lie. And I also know that it's not about me. And please do not misunderstand me, I am very, very happy that the people I love are being changed and metamorphosing into new and amazing people. I just feel like the doofus who's radio must be tuned to the wrong station or something cause I am not getting too much here. Just a load of static.



I know that theoretically, the answer to this problemo is to speak truth to myself...but at the same time.....I don't know, I'm just stubborn. I know the truth. I know God is there. I know He cares about me. So in a way this numbness is making the truth worse for me to hear. It makes me angry. Not even gonna lie. I am mad at God. I know that He is all powerful. He could stop this. So.....? What's the deal here?

I dunno.



And there is that small part of my brain that's screaming at me, saying that the whole last paragraph is bull, and I know it. Let me revise. God is here with me. God loves me. God will never leave me or forsake me. He's right here. He's right here. He's right here. He's right here. He's right here.



What else? there is nothing else. that's all.

I told you I'd find something to be sad about. I'm addicted to the sadness. I told you.

*edit*
I wrote-ed this a while ago, but I haven't posted it cause I wanted to skim over it to make sure there is not any dumb-ness in there, but then I thought Where would life be without dumbness?
In a very boring place, Jimmy. That's where.

I'd also like to add that I am getting enough sleep to let me dream again. Which is GLORIOUS! dreaming is my favorite. wonderful. spiffy. shiny-ness.
Last night I dreamed that I was in the desert somewhere and way down underground was some sort of metal that caused other metals that came over it to emit electrical energy and do crazy stuff. So I had earings in and they were allowing my ears to pick up sound better when I was there. (so cool) and so I could here people's hearts beating and their footsteps and stuffs.
perdy sweet.

that's all

I wasn't going to post this, but here we go anyway.
I have realized that I've been stuck on a friendship that has long since past. I have been constantly looking back and thinking what ifs and feeling guilt about it. It has effected all my other relationships. I have been hiding. It's been painful to even think about moving on because I feared I would be betraying what I had. Like I owed the friend something.

I'm not saying things will suddenly be different now that I've realized this. I will say though that for the first time I've actually dared to think that they aren't stuck like I am, and maybe I don't need to be either.

Long, long, long time coming. I want to fall asleep with the peace the thought brings.

Of course I've known that I am probably the only one still dwelling on the past, but I'd hoped that perhaps things could be like they were again and maybe I'd be braver this time.

Now I think that they have all moved on and that's wonderful because I can too. No one is counting on me to do otherwise.

Y'know what else, if anything I did was wrong before, it is forgiven and far from me. The past does not define me. I am new....and shiny. A whole lot lighter if you ask me because the past isn't me any more.

So there ya go, another post that doesn't make sense. O wells.

A creep and a weirdo.

This is the greatest and best song in the world...k not really. but it's my favorite, right now. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fEVOVN24R08
It's a Nine Inch Nails cover. love, love, love Flyleaf.

It has been forever since I've written a single thing on here. Seeing as I have been in this trend of expressively vomiting lately, I think I will update this baby. Just be warned, I feel as if the hormonal bit of my period didn't end when it should have...which would have been, what, two weeks ago, ish? I am so very moody and just generally a scary person right now.

My goldfish died. I'd cuss, if I were in the habit. Do you suppose people who cuss feel freer?....Is freer a word? Much more freer. Free-er? Whatever. Spell checker says yes. Freer. weird.
I loved that goldfish. It's dumb, I know, to love a goldfish. But "I often give myself very good advice, but I very seldom follow it. " Name that movie.

There's this song that I love, partially cause it reminds me of someone I used to know. One of the lines in it goes something like "wage this war against your faith in me," and that's out of context of the song, and is actually just about the only song I actually like in the song...but I've always related to it. cause I've always felt like people's perceptions of me are way very mistaken. (ha ha, way very. that came out funny.)
Not saying people think I'm wonderful or anything, and if you do you are way very mucho mistaken, but some people think I'm nice.....which is all sorts of a misunderstanding. I am a coward. I am not nice. Let me tell you, you have mistaken my fear of upsetting people for a desire to not upset them at all. I wonder if all pacifists are cowards or just me? People think I am well-behaved because I've never had a boy, well that's cause I'm scared to death of it, not cause i don't want to. maybe y'all already knew that.
There are other things, but I am too lazy to list them...Let us deal with one thing at a time shall we.
Point being, I love that song cause I think life would be much easier if you all knew my deepest, dingiest thoughts. Then I could not feel like an impostor and we could all move on with our lives....*sigh* it doesn't matter what I feel.

This probably doesn't make a bit of sense. I kinda past caring.

I'm sorry, I have to write this. I know it's bad blogging all these problems instead of speaking to people about them, but it's always been easier for me. Path of least resistance, as it were...What does the phrase "as it were" mean? I have no clue. I just used it, tho.

I am developing a pet peeve. I hate it when people point out my problems...I know my problems. I am very, very aware. Golly, if i knew how to fix most of them, i would.
Some of them are just too comfortable to fix. That's my main issue right now, I don't care to fix my loner-ness. It is quite convenient to be by myself. I actually enjoy it most of the time. Amy Lee said once "I've learned to love being alone." That's me. I love it. It's the best. Mostly. A good portion of the time.

This loner tendency is just reinforced by the time I've practiced it. I feel awkward now when I'm with people. I should say more awkward. I don't fit anywhere. Sheesh this sucks, cause I used to. I used to know people that spoke my language. Oh wells. It's stupid to dwell on it, I spose. It is unlikely to occur again, therefor I must stop thinking about it and stop expecting it from people.
Learn a new language. A normal one, please.

Church. It's an interesting place. K, no it's not. But it is a place where my not-fitting-in-ness is exponentially magnified. I don't know how that happens, but it's how it has always been for me. I've gotten along just fine, comparatively except for at church. Course, I've had my buddies, who have been God sends and life savers and whom I've had to do without this last year.
Weeeeeeellls, I don't know why I feel like this. It's just the way it is. I wish I was ok with it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O5vC7mZK_PE

people are always so pretty at church....pretty, pretty people. lovely, really
...Ok, really? What am I doing here? bathing in bitterness, I suppose. Letting my toes get pruney.

Sleeping Pills

I am realizing that when I tell people I will call them, I should probably do it. Regardless of my fear of phones....
Cause even though I fully intended to shut this kid down for a second time, I am disappointed that the opportunity is gone cause he doesn't have the guts. Bummer.
I believe I'll add that to my extensive wish list of manly traits a man should have; guts, right next to a healthy objection to manicures. Men should not enjoy manicures. I don't care what you say. No, I will not argue with you. My mind is set.
Oh, and when I say guts, I do not mean the hair gel Guts. Only I am allowed to use that. Because I'm pretty, you ask? Yes, because I am pretty.

I had an experience recently, that I think I should blog about. Here I am. To blog.

Firstly, I had a dream that a horse was in my cousin's kitchen. It was a zombie horse. I knew cause it had yellow eyes. Anyhow, it was trying to bite me. No big deal really, I made it go away. But then it bit a jaguar and the jaguar-zombie was trying to eat me. So naturally, I caught it and was attempting to find a muzzle for the thing, but it was too busy at the cousins. I think they were giving all the little people bathes. That's what happens when you have many children, you have absolutely no time for zombies.

That was not the experience afore mentioned.
I had a really, really bad week at work last week. A parent threatened to pull his kid out of my class and take him elsewhere. (If I knew how to make one of those smiley faces look super stressed, I'd insert one right here.) It turned out ok, my boss came in and fixed it and he didn't pull his kid out and I'm happy cause he doesn't know that no one is as good as us.

That night I turned out the lights at midnight and laid in bed for three hours and thought about what on earth have I done to deserve this, and how the world suddenly ceased to be my oyster but instead that underwater mine field that the sharks live in on Finding Nemo, and of how I should tell boss that I need a vacation or I would need to be done.

And after waking my entire family up and about 2:40 am whilst searching for sleeping pills but only finding advil, I laid in bed and spoke very angrily with God. My mom told me that I need to be content with my life right now. I should list things that I am grateful for...Well, I tried. I tried as genuinely as I could at that hour of the night, while being as freaked as I was. It wasn't too heart felt. I listed all the stuff that I know I should be grateful for.....And I realized that I am really sick of being content with my life.
I am completely unsatisfied with where I am right now. If there is some verse that says that's a sin then, well, I guess I am a sinner. (ha, thank you captain obvious) You know what, I don't mind being unsatisfied with my life right now, because it is motivating. And I need that motivation.

That was the end of the night, however. I was still speaking angrily at God and telling Him how I relate to that flair that says "Losing faith in humanity, one person at a time." (Yes, I do discuss facebook flair with God, from time to time. It's deep.) I have come to the conclusion that people are pretty messed up and another word comes to mind instead of "messed," and I just feel really sorry for the genuinely good people I meet, cause it's only a matter of time till they are disillusioned.
The next logical conclusion is if the creation is so flawed what on earth was the Creator thinking? It's the age old question of "was free will really worth this?" If you look at what has been lost, I'd say no. Lucky for you all, it's not up to me.

All in all, I spose it's an amazing phenomenon that God would allow us free thinking abilities when He has taken into account the bad we are capable of, He saw instead the wonderful potential of his creations have. God is a good God. Theoretically, the good-potentials should over power the bad we've been doing, right? Maybe not. (All that made more sense in my head. I hope that wasn't too bizarre of a statement.)

Friday night I didn't think about that though. I was thinking that the world is coming to an end and I am going to be in a swimsuit, shouting at some kids who are attempting to drown themselves when it happens. Shoot.
So, I was asking God what the crap I have done wrong with my life. Which turn was it that was the wrong one? Which of course came back to the backbone of my questions, "Why can't I hear you anymore?"
I've been watching the tv show Kings and just recently in it the king, Silas has been forsaken by God. And I relate. Except, I don't believe I've done anything wrong....Cept being really mad at God. Well, what do I know. I probably did something, I just have no clue what it is.
Maybe this is part of growing up, if it is I would like to die now please.
Two years.
I know I've written earlier that what I have had before is good enough for now, which is good in theory, but bad in practice. I can't live on my own strength from day to day, with memory to help me. Man, I am freakishly forgetful. I can't do this. God is bigger than that.
So I said, out loud, to the dark (it's kinda scary talking to God about something you're angry about - I'm pretty sure, even though I was in the basement, God can figure out some way to smite me with lightning,) "Show me. Show me you are real. Show me you care about this crap."
That's when I fell asleep and I dreamt about the zombie horse.

Today my boss called to ask if I could sub next Saturday. I spilled. Which is normally really hard for me to talk about any thing sensitive like that anyway and this was on a PHONE. I told her all about how I couldn't take too much more of work, I was about to freak out, and needed some time off. So, next session I am off for two whole weeks. (Insert super happy smiley face) May I just say, WOOOOOOOOOT!
That was a God thing. She wasn't even calling for me, she was calling for my mum. Like whoa. I just happened to have the gumption to answer the phone when her name was blinkin' at me from the caller ID. I'll take it. Little tiny phone-shaped burning bush to say, "I know your limits better than you and I'm taking care of you."

And for all y'all that think this wasn't a big deal...You don't get it, I would not have called her by myself. And by the time Tuesday would have rolled around, I would have blocked it all from my memory and then something REAAALLY bad would have happened and I would have quit on the spot or something dramatic like that. And I was believing that God has me working here for a reason until last week and now I do again after that phone call.

It's really late now. My sleeping pills started kicking in like half an hour ago and I accidentally typed sleeping piss. haha, sorry mom, it was just too funny of an accident. This whole post may not make any sense in the morning, but I want to get it up while it's fresh in my mind.
I wanted tell you about how I absolutely cannot lean on my own understanding, and the next time I try to please act like you completely understand what I'm going through and then when I am least expecting it, slap my across the face with a large and raw fish carcass. I'll get more sleep that way.

Yesh, so thank you, Jesus.
And here's my song,
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yzyys6kW8yg
i haven't watched the video, i just love the song.

Oh, and mom, I'm sorry. I know it stresses you out when I am being an angsty teen-ish person. Sorry. And also about the whole not being too grateful thing. As with all the things that I halfway ignore what you've said to figure it out on my own, you're probably right. Actually I am pretty sure you're right, I just haven't figured out how it all fits together yet. it'll come together when i quit thinking of course.....so now that i've embarrassed you at least once, i think it's time to call it a night. *giggles* goodnight.

Wow, I am inspired lately. Holy moley. It seems like I go through times where I am frustrated always because I try to write and nothing comes out. And now I have so many ideas I can't seem to find enough time to get them down.

I can't figure out what has caused this.....It may have something to do with the contact I've had with friends lately. Or it could be the changing weather...I am in love with the rain. The rain and I are friends. I didn't realize it but I have been missing that rain...And although I'm a little sad that winter is gone, I'm glad for the rain. Oooooh, or maybe it was going to a wedding this Saturday....Who knows.

Weeeeell, alls I know is that my kiddos (characters in my story) are growing. And I am loving this process.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oWD1oDnEfm0 I adore this music.

PS - I have discovered a cool new show. Kings...It's like the modern telling of the David and Goliath story...But mostly the David story. I need to reread it in the Bible so I can know where exactly it deviates from the actual story, which I know it does in a little more than a few ways. But altogether it is really cool. I LOVE symbolism in the a story, and this has lots of it.
The first episode was free on Itunes, but it might not be anymore...If not you can catch two episodes on Hulu.com

Holy Buckets of Crap, Batman!

Today, the sun was kind enough to thaw the Poop Marsh which is also sometimes referred to as my back yard. Naturally, the family cheerily gathered up their poop scooping equipment, which for me means a medium length shovel with a lovely square-ish spade (There's probably a fancy name for shovels like that, but I prefer to call it a medium length shovel with a lovely square-ish spade,) and a trash-bag-lined bucket. We sped forth in teams of two for thirty minute increments to conquer the land mined with dog doo.

It was while shoveling the approximate ten square feet that I covered into what would be a full bag at the end of my half hour, that I realized my motivation for scooping was half gone. My dog died. I cannot go back in and tease her about pooping so much and how I intend to toilet train her. In retrospect, such training would have saved her life. Odd.

In truth, this isn't the first day I've thought about this. The day after it snowed. All of her paw impressions were gone. Perhaps I'm being overly dramatic, but it seemed like the entire world was ready to move on.

I guess I'm ok with that. I'm a pretty selfish person. If I can't find some way that I can fix it or could have fixed it then it doesn't deserve my thoughts...So, other than being a little sad that I don't see her standing at the top of the stairs when I come home and no one snuggles with me when I sit by the fire and Easton sleeps a lot more than he used to, I cannot bring myself to conjure up grief that she is gone. And if I could, I believe it would just cause other people feel guilty for making the decision to put her down.

You, however, are not allowed to think me callous. I did feel sad. And angry. And I did break out and was covered in fever blisters for a week or so....I have to prioritize now. I have to not think about how quickly she just isn't anymore and instead think about what my grief is causing others and about how I should be doing something with my life and what to do with my room next and how to keep my living dog healthy.

Anyhow, I didn't come to write about this. I wanted to write about how I am mad at certain persons for making me feel like because I really don't want to go to college it is my destiny to live in a van down by the river....and to those of you who would say "I thought that was your plan?" I say "Holy Buckets of Crap, Batman, people like that make me want to shave and tattoo my head simply for the shock value and the disapproving look on their faces that says I'm probably not included in the will anymore."

Anyone up for some cliff diving?

i found a really old blogspot of mine the other day. i'd forgotten it's existence. so for the last couple of days i have been halfheartedly reading through my 2005 rants and being glad that i've grown up a little since then.

but at the same time, i am really glad that i shaved my head. it was glorious. and reading about it almost made me want to do it again....however it has taken me just about three years to grow my hair back out, so i think i will leave it for the moment.

why was that so much fun? there is something about defying our idiotic cultural norms that fires me up. i don't know. it's probably not a Biblically endorsed tendency. ah well.....

i was also reading through and noticing how involved emotionally i was in my friends lives (emo-child am i). how the little things they did that i disagreed with upset me. how i tried to fix them.....and i am done with that. my junior year of high school broke me. i found myself completely in over my head. through that lovely experience *sarcasm* i've learned that it's not my job to save people. it shouldn't even be a hobby. it's serious business and it's God's business.

i am close to the polar opposite now. i am close to nearly no one and i worry about no one. even the ones i know will get themselves into large piles of crap. i pray for them. and i'll be there for them if they want me to be. but i've realized that unless God gives me a specific thing to say to them, i have no place giving them "mom-talks" about their well being. because what i think is best more often than not, is not God's best.

and i am praying if this perspective on friendships is not God's best that i will find out real quick before i screw anything else up. i guess, my job in relationships is to know and trust Jesus.
that's hard....*heavy sigh*


K, bunny trail, but I have noticed that it is so much easier for me to be accept the truth when i am thinking about other people. when i have my friends in mind it's easy for me to say "Jesus loves you and forgives you." but it's much harder to tell myself the same thing. i'm not sure what that means. mom would probably relate it to me being prideful in some manner...and she's probably correct.

anyhow back to the whole ancient blog thing. i want to make a point of saying what i mean in this blog. cause if you asked me what i meant about half of the stuff in that old one, i wouldn't be able to tell you. i was always cryptic and beat around the bush a ton...and i was snotty about it too. cause if you didn't know then obviously you were just too dumb to be reading my blog and i wasn't writing it for you anyway. (whoa, i'm mean)

i know i am hard to understand sometimes......and unlike before i don't do it on purpose, but more out of habit...bad habit. and so basically if i am seeming to write some bizarre, wordy something that talks about stuff but never really tells you what the stuff is, call me on it.

sometimes i do it because i don't want to mention names and sometimes i just don't think everyone wants to hear all the hairy details....(and when i say hairy, i mean like world record for longest ear hair-hairy.) or sometimes it's cause my thoughts are a tangle of several mumbo-jumbos.

i just want to work on speaking and writing clearly. so you are now allowed to call me on my crypticness.

HomeAgainJiggedyJig

I don't have much to write about.

Today my mom and I arrived back home from California after getting stuck in Dallas for about a day. Nothing like an airport to fray the nerves....I am considering traveling by train from now on. I am sick of the security hoo-ha. Although, trains are probably similar. I just wish it wasn't such an ordeal to travel.

Well, I have to tell you, I was unsuccessful. I did not cliff dive or even ride a dirt bike, or even a four wheeler......*sigh*......I did manage to fling myself into an extremely chilly pool. That was interesting. Oh and I did go to a museum full of paintings of half nude women. (pretty much thought we're gonna get thrown out, we were laughing so much. heh, glorious.)


Mark my words though, I will throw myself off a cliff before I submit myself to any form of matrimony....Hopefully rendering myself mangled in some way so's not to attract interest, thus forever granting myself freedom of the emotional and commitment kind for the entirety of my life following said reckless event.

After my trip to the rainy CA, I find myself wishing I was more motivated to write. I did hammer out one very important trait about one of my very important characters.

I smell. Living in the airport makes one stinky.

One of the most enjoyable things about California was without a doubt seeing my mom with all her old friends. Somehow it was important for me to see relationships that haven't faded over time. Even over the big distances and lack of contact. Not that I feel I have an excuse to let people slip away, but I just have a little bit of hope that maybe the people who life whisks away from me will still be good friends when we're allowed some time together again.
I hope that makes sense.
It's also a kick in the butt for me to get out there with some antiseptic and band aids to try and do what I can to fix some relationships I mashed up earlier.

Here is the mv of the day...i take it back, mv of the month - until further notice. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bap-oZI-Grc
Love the song....because my life would suck without all y'all...cheesesmile

Guess I did have a lot to write aboot. I now go to shower.
ShTINKyNESS-EXTERMINATION-AWAY!!!!! whoootah. (it's good to be home.)

I miss you

I have certain friends that I don't see anymore, but of course still on facebook with. I can never decide whether to message them or leave them comment or not. I think about it. A lot.

I think, "Perhaps I should tell whosit I am thinking of them. Or soinso that I dreamt about them last night."

Then I think, specifically because some of these people are at a distance for a reason, because some crazy stuff went down in our past and it's a little painful to recall it, I think that maybe I shouldn't say anything. Perhaps it hurts them when I say "I miss you."
This thought bothers me because I blame myself for pretty much everything that happens...But I think they might blame themselves, too. And I don't want them to think that me saying "I miss you," translates to "Why'd you have to screw up, ya dork! If you hadn't done ... we'd still be hangin' out."

Is this outlandish paranoia?

That translation isn't true, by the way. The reason we don't hang out is solely because I am a bad friend. I do not take the initiative. I hide out in my cave.

What "I miss you" really translates to is "I value you. You mean much to me. I love you and I'm sorry that I suck."

*sigh*

On a different sort of note. i had a really good day today. i may be a little hasty to state what i'm about to state, but here it is.
i feel like the something in the atmosphere has shifted. like the clouds have broken and the sun is shining. or maybe i can just see the beauty of the snow all of a sudden.

i'm speaking figuratively of course. my mental well being seems all of a sudden to be well. it seems like a little different from doom and dispair and gloom and "why, God, why"-ness. which is odd. cause he hasn't answered any of my questions.

I had a revelation a while back...way back. when i was in a time a spiritual draught, that even if God never showed himself to me like he has in the past, even if i never felt the way i did ever ever again, that it would be okay. cause i know he's touched my life. and what i've had is enough for the rest of my go at life.
that sounds brave. but what i'm trying to say is it's not because i won't need him for the rest of my life. it's because in those moments when he has been closest to me, he has been enough for the rest of all time. i have no idea if that makes any sense at all.

well anyhow, same rule applies now. Someone said once that they know that they don't want to go back to the way they were with God. Not because it was bad but because God is all about the new. He is about bringing us to new places to experience new things.
and it's like the clouds have broken and i get this all of a sudden. I don't know how this happens. but it isn't the first time, and it doesn't happen with fanfare. it is like the clouds shifting, quiet and subtle.

i just found this song and it is so right for right now that i think i might puke.


Tenth Avenue North "Times"
I know I need You
I need to love You
I love to see You, but it's been so long
I long to feel You
I feel this need for You
And I need to hear You, is that so wrong?
Now You pull me near You
When we're close, I fear You
Still I'm afraid to tell You, all that I've done
Are You done forgiving?
Oh can You look past my pretending?
Lord, I'm so tired of defending, what I've become
What have I become?
I hear You say,
"My love is over.
It's underneath.
It's inside.
It's in between.
The times you doubt Me, when you can't feel.
The times that you question, 'Is this for real? '
The times you're broken.
The times that you mend.
The times that you hate Me, and the times that you bend.
Well, My love is over, it's underneath.
It's inside, it's in between.
These times you're healing, and when your heart breaks.
The times that you feel like you're falling from grace.
The times you're hurting.
The times that you heal.
The times you go hungry, and are tempted to steal.
The times of confusion, in chaos and pain.
I'm there in your sorrow, under the weight of your shame.
I'm there through your heartache.
I'm there in the storm.
My love I will keep you, by My power alone.
I don't care where you fall, where you have been.
I'll never forsake you, My love never ends.
It never ends."

I got several thing to write aboot.

One of which being my endeavor to discover why on earth all the Twilight books are so crazy popular.
I had a theory. Have a theory, actually. It is that in the first book specifically, that we are drawn in by what I can explain best as the Sexy-Back effect. Justin Timberlake's song was largely successful (in my opinion,) because it tells you that you are sexy. People enjoy hearing that. Makes you feel all fluffy inside.
In Twilight, you begin with this non-descript girl. Nothing special. Super clumsy. Bookworm. She moves to this new school, and every boy in sight falls for her. Not only that, but the unobtainable, gorgeous, immortal vampire boy is freakishly attracted to her.
This alone makes the book fun to read. It's the psychology of it. And yes, I was completely taken in.
The other, more interesting draw I found was the character development. As the books went on and the plot was....not my favorite, you love it anyway cause you adore the characters cause the have been explained to you so very well that you know them.

So after discovering this, I looked at my own writing and found......that I suck at character development. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah, well. I now have to meet my people. I have to know them like Harold Crick. I have to spend some serious time chatting with them....I have to lose my mind again! Huzzah!!!!

Also, on a different note, I believe I may have another disorder to add to my list. Among the Peter Pan problemo and the slight schizo tendency, I may have something to do with my addiction to alone time. I don't know if I could label it as something different from what I've named, or if it simply a symptom.
People with schizophrenia can have catatonic symptoms, meaning they repeat the same motions again and again, not breaking from routine or they don't move at all. Often this manifests itself in a twitch or it can be bigger than that....i think.
I also know that people with OCD can have issues with leaving the house. I don't think I have OCD, I think I am lazy.

That's that....What else?

I watched last thursday's CSI. Gil Grissom left. I started to tear up when he was leaving the lab and then when he was wandering through the jungle I was sobbing. Elly thought I was insane.
well yeah.
I was SOOOO depressed after Sara left a while back. Like irrationally depressed over a tv show. No one should be that depressed over a tv show. But I was. And I was also, kid you not, sobbing for joy at the end of this one.
All I really have to say is that in a few years I will be like my mom and will cry during the commercials. *sigh* it is inevitable.

i had way more...but i can't think of 'em now. it's late. more than half of what i've written already makes no sense, so i'll quit now. oh, and here's the youtube of the day. makes me think of GSR. so here ya go. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FPf9Uksy91I

Backfire

I had a really freaky dream the other night.

Reader's digest version, my mom and I were watching these guys preform a play in a living-room-like setting. It got to a tense part in which the lights started flashing and the two men in front of us began to change. They transformed from human to something very inhuman with wrinkly long noses...ew.
Mom was telling me not to be afraid, which told me firstly that she was scared and secondly that I maybe should also be nervous. I was nervous. Actually, I was freaked.
I started whispering "Jesus, Jesus" under my breath until my jaw froze up. I couldn't say His name anymore. Then I was extremely scared. I knew something was very wrong.

The lights went out completely. A moment later the lights were back on. Intermission.

There were a couple of other people in the room. A few boys were looking at their arms, saying "He touched me." They had two little red marks on their arms, one near their wrists and the other on the flip side of their arms near the elbow. I had the marks too.
Mom and I were leaving, not wishing to see the rest.
The other lady that was there said something to the effect of "You guys are leaving right before the good forces vanquish the bad dudes! The whole point of the play is the redemptive ending."
We didn't care.

I woke up and my dog, Easton's head was right next to mine on the pillow. He groaned the most human, anguished groan you have ever imagined coming from a dog. Easton dreams often, and will bark or growl in his dreams, but I have never heard him make a noise like that before. Hewie-Lewie, that freaked me out more than the dream.
I immediately thought that whatever had brought my nightmare to me was bringing the same to him. I woke him up and did what I couldn't in my dream. I said Jesus over and over and over. And then when I was thinking a bit better, I prayed, rebuked the Enemy, and pled Jesus' blood over the house. Then I did what I haven't done in YEARS, I took Easton and we went upstairs, woke the parents up and had them pray for us.

I am very sure that there was a spirit of fear camping out in my room that night....Which....should freak me out....However, I find that it brings perspective. Sometimes, actually like all the time, I have a really rough time remembering that the world I see is only one very thin layer of the onion. And that we live in a world where angels and demons are very real.
I LOVE THIS PERSPECTIVE!!!!
Upon my word. I love the reality of the situation. I am small in a large spiritual war... And I have the God of the Universe there to help me out. Now, if you don't find that just plain spiffy, I don't know what to do with you!

Anyhow, I am enjoying pointing out how this backfired. An attempt to scare that crap out of me only worked momentarily. And now I feel braver than I have in about three years, I think. So there. Thank You, God. And as that lost boy said "that was a great game."

Hahaha.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DXQkplGz05c
The chorus of this song, I believe translates literally to say don't quit me. Which I think is rather poetic. The functional use of the phrase is don't leave me. Just a perdy song. Sting has an sweeeet voice.

Chick Flick

I have been told...after watching the various chick flicks with the married persons of my chick-flick-watching-people...They laugh and say "That is so not how it is."

If this fact is true....and falling in love is not nearly as exciting and glorious and logic-defying as the movies say....................Well, I think I can deal with that. There are other things to live for right? Like sky diving and deep sea diving and other sorts of diving that involve danger and crazy adrenaline rushes.

I think, what I should do.....assuming this is true...is I should go to college. Minor in psychology. Miraculously get over my aversion to blood and study to be a doctor. Then I will go to some third world country and find employment at an orphanage.

This would seem good. And does seem good. Until I watch Pride and Prejudice again or read an amazing romance novel like I just have.....and I think to my ghost of a social life....meh. It is depressing how quickly I no longer want to get an education of any sort. How I want to wait here until someone finds me. I want to wait here and write about waiting. Similar to this. That is all.

I feel like it should be better defined. Like it should be black or white. Just tell me what it's like! Cause if none of it is as good as they say, I really don't want anything to do with it.
I don't want to get neck deep into some relationship and then discover that it's really lame...Like if all it chalks up to is the equivalent of sitting on the couch, watching football, and eating potato chips, figuratively speaking of course. I don't want that.

Good grief. These romantic stories scare me to death. I need to just stop thinking aboot it.