It's midnight, and I can't sleep.
Probably because I had coffee, but also because the moment I stop distracting myself, my heart aches and I want my mommy so badly.
Looks like it's going to be a long night. I should probably do some prep for tutoring tomorrow, but...for right now I'm listening to Pandora and drawing. I also got a tattoo on Saturday, one of my own designs, and it's on my shoulder.
Funny how I never, ever get the tattoos that I plan. But I basically have the start of a sleeve now, since it's a gorgeous lotus flower but it looks kind of lonely sitting there by itself. I also think that when a woman has only one tattoo on her upper arm, it looks sort of tramp-ish. So I don't want to leave it that way for long.
Anyway, I spent the night working on another flower to add to it.
What is it about people and animals and basically anything alive that we all just want to be loved?
Like Topaze, for instance. All he wants to do is be close to me. He's sleeping on my bed right now; a ball of orange fur and white whiskers. He's never happier than when he can be around me.
I should also be making that craigslist ad for the kittens.
And renewing my student loan repayment plan. And my health insurance plan. And finishing the online mandated reporter course.
I want my mom.
Tuesday, May 24, 2016
Wednesday, May 18, 2016
Logic....???
It is true what they say about Aquarians...you have to be our best friend first, lover second.
Yup.
I'm writing this to try and sort out my feelings, put my thoughts and emotions into words. But the trouble is, there doesn't seem to be enough words? No. Not that. More like I can't find the words to match the sensations...that sounds weird, and more serious than it probably is.
I'm not used to having words fail me. I've tried to sort it out in my head, to use reason and logic to figure out what's going on, but all that happens is...it's like I'm holding a ball of yarn, and it's completely tangled up. And then I try and try to sort it out; I find one string, and I start to pull, but then I can't see where that string goes, and when I finally give up, I'm more tangled up than I was to begin with.
What scares me about love? First of all, I don't like the word. I think I don't like the vulnerability that comes with it. It's been misused and overused and it's lost most of the meaning...and as a result I don't know what it really means anymore. My dad tells me that it means "sacrifice." I can see that. I loved my mom, heck, I still do, and I was willing to sacrifice everything for her, my time, my finances, my sanity. I'd still give all of that if it meant I could have her back.
I think I'm afraid of being hurt. I loved once, maybe twice, and both times I was hurt. I saw my parents love each other, but I also saw them bicker and fight and throw hurtful accusations at each other and I said, "how can that be love?"
I see my brother and sister-in-law butt heads all the time, talk about leaving each other, and I say, "how can that be love?" Yet they're still together. Is that what love is? That's not what I want it to be.
I know it's not bliss all the time, but it's still a scary thing.
I hate vulnerability. I don't like hand-holding (yes, we're back to that again) because it implies a connection that's unbearably deep. At least for me. I'll be needy, and never show it, because I don't want to come across as clingy or weak. I despise that in other women when I see them being "lovey-dovey" and just...clingy.
I spent so much time thinking about the future before...imagining a perfect life, a perfect family, everything oh so perfect. And it came crashing down around me. So...now, any time a thought comes into my mind regarding a possible future, my mind recoils into itself and hides away from completing the thought or dwelling on it.
It's like I don't want to get too involved, because what if he's not (maybe "invested" is a better word), but at the same time, I'm pushing 30 soon, so now is not the time to go for anything half-heartedly or casually. That's what I keep telling myself.
And then the thing is, I'm used to being the one who's being pursued, and being the one to shy away, and the whole shebang. I'm not used to it being mutual. Not from the start, anyway. So it's weird. Well, that's weird. No, not weird, just...unusual.
How do I go about navigating WANTING to be around someone? Actually, my question is this: What is holding us together? It's not like there are problems or anything so that I'm wondering why stick around? I'm just trying to figure out what put us together in the first place? It's not a swoony, lovesick sort of thing...
It's more like: He calms me down. I guess in a way, it is built solidly on friendship. I can stand to be around him for 12 hours at a time, and it doesn't even feel like that much time is passing. We can sit on the couch and not talk, and when I finally decide to look up from drawing, I see that he's fallen asleep. We can spend two hours in a car eating gummy bears and swapping stories about anime and sci-fi books, and we can talk about awkward things like pms and shaving pubes and just...not judge. If he's around, I feel grounded in a way, like things might be falling apart, but it's okay, because he's there. We can get on a train with no idea where we're going and just sit there until it takes us wherever we end up.
And because I'm trying to be mature about this, I will have to admit that I'm trying to evaluate him as a life partner. Like, isn't that what's important? To be with someone who you're comfortable with, who doesn't bore you, who you can talk to about anything, and who you can stand to be around 24/7? And then it helps if they share the same ideals as you...so....
But what scares me is the idea of putting myself out there. I already did, and that's why we're together, because after a certain point I couldn't deal with having him distance himself from me and try to date another person.
Haha. My mother was right, yet again. He did eventually say that he had been interested for years. Kudos to you, mamma. You know your stuff.
I tried to keep my emotions under lock and key. Bound and gagged, tied to a wooden chair in a room with stone walls. And then one day they broke free. Just exploded. I was lying on his bed and he came into the room and threw himself down next to me and just snuggled into my side, and POOF! BLAM! All of a sudden my chest was full of emotion and I was like WHAT IS THIS? STOP! I HAD YOU BOUND AND GAGGED! GET BACK INTO YOUR PRISON! And no amount of threatening my emotions would cause them to go back to where they were. I'm normal again, now, but I'm afraid of that happening again. I already like him, a lot, but I'm afraid of it turning into anything more than that. WHY, though? Is it because I'm afraid it won't be reciprocated? Probably. Yet still he's the one that comes up with random confessions (truly random) like...that he's wondered what our kids would look like.
Or what it would be like if we had twins.
And that terrifies me.
It's shaky. Unsure. I don't know where I'm treading. Or how to tread. So I'm doing it carefully. At least I hope I am.
You know, when one of the ladies who was a friend of my mom asked me about him just before the funeral, and she heard that we've been friends for nine years, she smiled and said, "He's a nice young man. And he's stuck around through this? He's not going anywhere."
You know, I kind of hope that's true.
Yup.
I'm writing this to try and sort out my feelings, put my thoughts and emotions into words. But the trouble is, there doesn't seem to be enough words? No. Not that. More like I can't find the words to match the sensations...that sounds weird, and more serious than it probably is.
I'm not used to having words fail me. I've tried to sort it out in my head, to use reason and logic to figure out what's going on, but all that happens is...it's like I'm holding a ball of yarn, and it's completely tangled up. And then I try and try to sort it out; I find one string, and I start to pull, but then I can't see where that string goes, and when I finally give up, I'm more tangled up than I was to begin with.
What scares me about love? First of all, I don't like the word. I think I don't like the vulnerability that comes with it. It's been misused and overused and it's lost most of the meaning...and as a result I don't know what it really means anymore. My dad tells me that it means "sacrifice." I can see that. I loved my mom, heck, I still do, and I was willing to sacrifice everything for her, my time, my finances, my sanity. I'd still give all of that if it meant I could have her back.
I think I'm afraid of being hurt. I loved once, maybe twice, and both times I was hurt. I saw my parents love each other, but I also saw them bicker and fight and throw hurtful accusations at each other and I said, "how can that be love?"
I see my brother and sister-in-law butt heads all the time, talk about leaving each other, and I say, "how can that be love?" Yet they're still together. Is that what love is? That's not what I want it to be.
I know it's not bliss all the time, but it's still a scary thing.
I hate vulnerability. I don't like hand-holding (yes, we're back to that again) because it implies a connection that's unbearably deep. At least for me. I'll be needy, and never show it, because I don't want to come across as clingy or weak. I despise that in other women when I see them being "lovey-dovey" and just...clingy.
I spent so much time thinking about the future before...imagining a perfect life, a perfect family, everything oh so perfect. And it came crashing down around me. So...now, any time a thought comes into my mind regarding a possible future, my mind recoils into itself and hides away from completing the thought or dwelling on it.
It's like I don't want to get too involved, because what if he's not (maybe "invested" is a better word), but at the same time, I'm pushing 30 soon, so now is not the time to go for anything half-heartedly or casually. That's what I keep telling myself.
And then the thing is, I'm used to being the one who's being pursued, and being the one to shy away, and the whole shebang. I'm not used to it being mutual. Not from the start, anyway. So it's weird. Well, that's weird. No, not weird, just...unusual.
How do I go about navigating WANTING to be around someone? Actually, my question is this: What is holding us together? It's not like there are problems or anything so that I'm wondering why stick around? I'm just trying to figure out what put us together in the first place? It's not a swoony, lovesick sort of thing...
It's more like: He calms me down. I guess in a way, it is built solidly on friendship. I can stand to be around him for 12 hours at a time, and it doesn't even feel like that much time is passing. We can sit on the couch and not talk, and when I finally decide to look up from drawing, I see that he's fallen asleep. We can spend two hours in a car eating gummy bears and swapping stories about anime and sci-fi books, and we can talk about awkward things like pms and shaving pubes and just...not judge. If he's around, I feel grounded in a way, like things might be falling apart, but it's okay, because he's there. We can get on a train with no idea where we're going and just sit there until it takes us wherever we end up.
And because I'm trying to be mature about this, I will have to admit that I'm trying to evaluate him as a life partner. Like, isn't that what's important? To be with someone who you're comfortable with, who doesn't bore you, who you can talk to about anything, and who you can stand to be around 24/7? And then it helps if they share the same ideals as you...so....
But what scares me is the idea of putting myself out there. I already did, and that's why we're together, because after a certain point I couldn't deal with having him distance himself from me and try to date another person.
Haha. My mother was right, yet again. He did eventually say that he had been interested for years. Kudos to you, mamma. You know your stuff.
I tried to keep my emotions under lock and key. Bound and gagged, tied to a wooden chair in a room with stone walls. And then one day they broke free. Just exploded. I was lying on his bed and he came into the room and threw himself down next to me and just snuggled into my side, and POOF! BLAM! All of a sudden my chest was full of emotion and I was like WHAT IS THIS? STOP! I HAD YOU BOUND AND GAGGED! GET BACK INTO YOUR PRISON! And no amount of threatening my emotions would cause them to go back to where they were. I'm normal again, now, but I'm afraid of that happening again. I already like him, a lot, but I'm afraid of it turning into anything more than that. WHY, though? Is it because I'm afraid it won't be reciprocated? Probably. Yet still he's the one that comes up with random confessions (truly random) like...that he's wondered what our kids would look like.
Or what it would be like if we had twins.
And that terrifies me.
It's shaky. Unsure. I don't know where I'm treading. Or how to tread. So I'm doing it carefully. At least I hope I am.
You know, when one of the ladies who was a friend of my mom asked me about him just before the funeral, and she heard that we've been friends for nine years, she smiled and said, "He's a nice young man. And he's stuck around through this? He's not going anywhere."
You know, I kind of hope that's true.
Friday, May 13, 2016
30th Birthday
It's still three years away, but I've never planned anything big for my birthday except for my sweet sixteen. I was thinking that maybe I want to go on a cruise for my thirtieth birthday.
I have a lot of energy at the moment. It might not look like it, sitting here at my work desk on this rainy, grey day, with a blank expression on my face except for the occasional smile at a parent who walks in. But I'm extremely hyper.
If given the opportunity, I'd climb up monkey bars or bounce in circles around the lobby. I'd go on a blabbing spree with somebody and end up in a giggle fit. Anything but sit here. I have the itch to just get up and run.
That happens every now and again. Like, I get really, really hyper. adlskjfasdk;ljfasd;jfasdk;ljfsd;jfd;jf;djf
That was satisfying.
I went out for lunch today with one of the elders from the church..that owns the school..where I work. That was a wee bit complicated. But basically it's because of what happened to my mom, so he bought me lunch and talked to me about life and loss and what's going on now. That was actually a much more productive conversation than the one I paid $25 for sitting on a couch talking to a professional. I have to admit, I felt a little like a crazy person during that session. And the only reason I talked was because I felt like I had to, but this Donna Noble lady (not her real name, obviously, but I call her that in my head because she makes me think of the Doctor's companion) doesn't exactly inspire confidence.
She never did.
That's kind of sad.
Welp. Such is life.
So yeah. Maybe I relate better to men? Males? Guys? Or whatever? I think they're easier to talk to. Women are like....YOU MUST SPEAK TO ME. WE MUST SPEAK. WE MUST COMMUNICATE. And I'm like, but what if I don't want to? With non-females it's like, hey, no pressure.
Lol. I don't know.
Anyway, I felt better after the convo. Sort of like, he got me. And he actually gave me some solid advice, which was "talk to your dad," not just "you're an adult, follow your heart and do your own thing." I hate when people tell me to just do what I want and screw what my parents think. I want to do what's right, and I want everyone to be on board with it. If I'm going to have a piercing or a visible tattoo or travel to another land, I want my parents to know what I'm doing and be okay with it. I want us to understand each other. We may not have to agree, but there should at least be an agreement to disagree. A mutual understanding. Isn't it so much better that way?
So I'm going to do what he said, which is pray about an opening for the right time to talk to my dad. Because while I can understand where he's coming from, he's being really unfair. You can't take one "bad" or offensive thing that a person has done and use it to paint their entire life. (I just realized I'm preaching to myself here...maybe I've treated some people unfairly too.) Off on a tangent here, I did tell my mom that if she wanted to stay in contact with Cody that she could. Just to not pass any messages back and forth between us. So I didn't really cut her off, did I? Now I feel bad. Sigh.
Well I won't be making that mistake again. I won't try to control what people do...or who they talk to or anything like that. The decisions people make are up to them. Everyone deserves to be completely their own person. Anyway, that's what I don't want my dad to do to me...to use his fears or worries and put them on me. To restrain me from doing what I feel is best, or from trying something I want, just because he thinks it won't work.
If it won't, well, hey. Maybe he is right about my entire life. But that shouldn't stop me from getting the chance to live it out myself. It's MY life for a reason. It's okay to make mistakes and stumble into detours and occasional dead ends and get scratches and scars from the brambles along the way. I just need to make him understand that.
Yeah. So back to what I was saying, if someone has done SO much good, and you were so grateful to them, then they mess up and do one thing that you don't like, it's not fair to suddenly paint them as bad as the devil himself. And then try to dictate how someone else should behave around them, especially if that someone is an adult and has their own life to live. (Now mind you, I'm allowed to have these thoughts myself, but no one else is allowed to say them to me).
And that about sums it up for today, because I have to go, lol.
I have a lot of energy at the moment. It might not look like it, sitting here at my work desk on this rainy, grey day, with a blank expression on my face except for the occasional smile at a parent who walks in. But I'm extremely hyper.
If given the opportunity, I'd climb up monkey bars or bounce in circles around the lobby. I'd go on a blabbing spree with somebody and end up in a giggle fit. Anything but sit here. I have the itch to just get up and run.
That happens every now and again. Like, I get really, really hyper. adlskjfasdk;ljfasd;jfasdk;ljfsd;jfd;jf;djf
That was satisfying.
I went out for lunch today with one of the elders from the church..that owns the school..where I work. That was a wee bit complicated. But basically it's because of what happened to my mom, so he bought me lunch and talked to me about life and loss and what's going on now. That was actually a much more productive conversation than the one I paid $25 for sitting on a couch talking to a professional. I have to admit, I felt a little like a crazy person during that session. And the only reason I talked was because I felt like I had to, but this Donna Noble lady (not her real name, obviously, but I call her that in my head because she makes me think of the Doctor's companion) doesn't exactly inspire confidence.
She never did.
That's kind of sad.
Welp. Such is life.
So yeah. Maybe I relate better to men? Males? Guys? Or whatever? I think they're easier to talk to. Women are like....YOU MUST SPEAK TO ME. WE MUST SPEAK. WE MUST COMMUNICATE. And I'm like, but what if I don't want to? With non-females it's like, hey, no pressure.
Lol. I don't know.
Anyway, I felt better after the convo. Sort of like, he got me. And he actually gave me some solid advice, which was "talk to your dad," not just "you're an adult, follow your heart and do your own thing." I hate when people tell me to just do what I want and screw what my parents think. I want to do what's right, and I want everyone to be on board with it. If I'm going to have a piercing or a visible tattoo or travel to another land, I want my parents to know what I'm doing and be okay with it. I want us to understand each other. We may not have to agree, but there should at least be an agreement to disagree. A mutual understanding. Isn't it so much better that way?
So I'm going to do what he said, which is pray about an opening for the right time to talk to my dad. Because while I can understand where he's coming from, he's being really unfair. You can't take one "bad" or offensive thing that a person has done and use it to paint their entire life. (I just realized I'm preaching to myself here...maybe I've treated some people unfairly too.) Off on a tangent here, I did tell my mom that if she wanted to stay in contact with Cody that she could. Just to not pass any messages back and forth between us. So I didn't really cut her off, did I? Now I feel bad. Sigh.
Well I won't be making that mistake again. I won't try to control what people do...or who they talk to or anything like that. The decisions people make are up to them. Everyone deserves to be completely their own person. Anyway, that's what I don't want my dad to do to me...to use his fears or worries and put them on me. To restrain me from doing what I feel is best, or from trying something I want, just because he thinks it won't work.
If it won't, well, hey. Maybe he is right about my entire life. But that shouldn't stop me from getting the chance to live it out myself. It's MY life for a reason. It's okay to make mistakes and stumble into detours and occasional dead ends and get scratches and scars from the brambles along the way. I just need to make him understand that.
Yeah. So back to what I was saying, if someone has done SO much good, and you were so grateful to them, then they mess up and do one thing that you don't like, it's not fair to suddenly paint them as bad as the devil himself. And then try to dictate how someone else should behave around them, especially if that someone is an adult and has their own life to live. (Now mind you, I'm allowed to have these thoughts myself, but no one else is allowed to say them to me).
And that about sums it up for today, because I have to go, lol.
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
:(
I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm not eating again, and I'm always anxious and nervous. And sort of irritable. I think I need to pull into my shell and hide for a while.
Someone would probably say that I'm grieving but I think I may have done everything too soon. I need to go back to normal. But nothing is normal anymore, or maybe this is just the new normal. I don't like it. And I have to figure out what's going on between Calvin and me because the dynamic is kind of shifting but I don't know what the fudge it's doing.
I need to eat my Cheezits.
I also need like two days off from work. In the middle of the week. And to just go to the city. And get a tattoo or a piercing. Because that's how I deal with things. And I don't know how to deal with anything anymore.
Maybe I should go back to the non-physical aspect of the relationship...maybe that's what's bugging me and I'm not ready for it. Emotionally? Or some crap like that? Who knows? I guess I'll get through it. Somehow. Everything always comes to an end one way or another so how I feel has to end soon. Cause I can't deal with this crater in my chest 24/7.
Someone would probably say that I'm grieving but I think I may have done everything too soon. I need to go back to normal. But nothing is normal anymore, or maybe this is just the new normal. I don't like it. And I have to figure out what's going on between Calvin and me because the dynamic is kind of shifting but I don't know what the fudge it's doing.
I need to eat my Cheezits.
I also need like two days off from work. In the middle of the week. And to just go to the city. And get a tattoo or a piercing. Because that's how I deal with things. And I don't know how to deal with anything anymore.
Maybe I should go back to the non-physical aspect of the relationship...maybe that's what's bugging me and I'm not ready for it. Emotionally? Or some crap like that? Who knows? I guess I'll get through it. Somehow. Everything always comes to an end one way or another so how I feel has to end soon. Cause I can't deal with this crater in my chest 24/7.
Tuesday, May 10, 2016
Encouraging letter
Dear stranger,
You are beautiful. You are amazing. You are so much stronger inside than you know.
You are full of bright ideas and colorful dreams, and you'll paint the world in a thousand unknown colors if you only give yourself the chance to shine.
When you smile, it lights up a room and the world wants to know who you are.
There is a melody in your bones that only you know the words to, so get out there and find the person who knows the rhythm and make music together.
You can create worlds from dust and graphite and sweep together the stars in your thoughts. You unite dragons and fairies and shape weapons to destroy hate.
In your eyes are the personalities of a million parallel universes and the blood of untold new races, promises so deep within your heart that nothing could keep them from fulfilling your dreams.
You are strong. You are wonderful. And you will be okay.
You are beautiful. You are amazing. You are so much stronger inside than you know.
You are full of bright ideas and colorful dreams, and you'll paint the world in a thousand unknown colors if you only give yourself the chance to shine.
When you smile, it lights up a room and the world wants to know who you are.
There is a melody in your bones that only you know the words to, so get out there and find the person who knows the rhythm and make music together.
You can create worlds from dust and graphite and sweep together the stars in your thoughts. You unite dragons and fairies and shape weapons to destroy hate.
In your eyes are the personalities of a million parallel universes and the blood of untold new races, promises so deep within your heart that nothing could keep them from fulfilling your dreams.
You are strong. You are wonderful. And you will be okay.
Monday, May 9, 2016
;ladjkfa;ldjkf;lsdjf
I am having a DAY. It's probably because I'm in PMS mode, but like, still. I've been irritable all day, and it's like I lose the capability to deal with things the way that I normally would. Things don't just slide off my back, and I internalize things and make way more out of them than need be.
And I'm starting to realize that life is really freaking brutal. It doesn't go the way you wish it would, and the things people do that would make you upset or whatever when you sit back and think about it...it's like, whatever. Life sucks.
And normally, I'm a sort of "roll with the punches" gal. I don't like conflict, period. If something gets difficult, I'd rather sit it out than talk about it or get worked up. That's why my relationships never last long. It's like, well if something's not working, too bad.
I don't know if I understand the concept of working things out. It's so awful. Let me shut up. It's just PMS talking. I'm wearing storm-colored glasses right now instead of rose colored ones. There's nothing even wrong. I just feel crappy because I had to have a serious conversation this morning, and I hate serious conversations. Especially when I already feel like the world is crapping on me.
Also, I made a decision on.....Saturday....that I don't regret. I should, but I don't. And it didn't change anything, so I should be fine. Because everything was fine. It's just this stupid PMS making me overthink everything. It's weird how I can so clearly identify my symptoms now. A few days before, I get cold, freezing cold, from the inside out and no amount of warm tea or hot summer sunshine can cure it. (That was last night). About a week and a half before, my breasts get SUPER tender, to the point that they hurt just by being there. Maybe two to three days before, I can't deal with life, and I'm prone to breaking down crying because I've been asked to make soup. (Yes, that happened once). I also go into a shell and don't want to be bothered by anyone.
Anyway.
I'm actually having a really hard time putting this into words. I want to live my life. I'm nearly thirty. When am I supposed to start living my own life and making decisions where it really counts? WITHOUT a parent or two making me question everything and feel bad about the choices that I make? And it's like....okay. So, you tell me what you think, but then in the end, the choice is mine. You can't dictate to me anymore with a "you will not do this or that," because for one, I'm not going to listen, and two, I'm the one who has to live with the decisions I've made, not you.
My dad is messing up something that could be good - really good - because he doesn't like it. Sure, maybe it could go bad, but just...wow. For once, writing is not helping.
Bye.
And I'm starting to realize that life is really freaking brutal. It doesn't go the way you wish it would, and the things people do that would make you upset or whatever when you sit back and think about it...it's like, whatever. Life sucks.
And normally, I'm a sort of "roll with the punches" gal. I don't like conflict, period. If something gets difficult, I'd rather sit it out than talk about it or get worked up. That's why my relationships never last long. It's like, well if something's not working, too bad.
I don't know if I understand the concept of working things out. It's so awful. Let me shut up. It's just PMS talking. I'm wearing storm-colored glasses right now instead of rose colored ones. There's nothing even wrong. I just feel crappy because I had to have a serious conversation this morning, and I hate serious conversations. Especially when I already feel like the world is crapping on me.
Also, I made a decision on.....Saturday....that I don't regret. I should, but I don't. And it didn't change anything, so I should be fine. Because everything was fine. It's just this stupid PMS making me overthink everything. It's weird how I can so clearly identify my symptoms now. A few days before, I get cold, freezing cold, from the inside out and no amount of warm tea or hot summer sunshine can cure it. (That was last night). About a week and a half before, my breasts get SUPER tender, to the point that they hurt just by being there. Maybe two to three days before, I can't deal with life, and I'm prone to breaking down crying because I've been asked to make soup. (Yes, that happened once). I also go into a shell and don't want to be bothered by anyone.
Anyway.
I'm actually having a really hard time putting this into words. I want to live my life. I'm nearly thirty. When am I supposed to start living my own life and making decisions where it really counts? WITHOUT a parent or two making me question everything and feel bad about the choices that I make? And it's like....okay. So, you tell me what you think, but then in the end, the choice is mine. You can't dictate to me anymore with a "you will not do this or that," because for one, I'm not going to listen, and two, I'm the one who has to live with the decisions I've made, not you.
My dad is messing up something that could be good - really good - because he doesn't like it. Sure, maybe it could go bad, but just...wow. For once, writing is not helping.
Bye.
Thursday, May 5, 2016
More Youtube
I think I'm going to incorporate a DIY element into my main channel videos. I keep seeing all these posts of cute bohemian decor on Pinterest, and everyone is just like, I wish I could buy this or find a tutorial on how to make it.
I'm just like, why don't you look at it and figure out how to make it your own?
DUH! Why don't I do that, and make a video of it?
So why not?
I'll make a dreamcatcher, some hanging beads, some decorative feathers....I wonder if I can draw my mandala designs on them. How would it stick? Time to do some thinking.
I'm just like, why don't you look at it and figure out how to make it your own?
DUH! Why don't I do that, and make a video of it?
So why not?
I'll make a dreamcatcher, some hanging beads, some decorative feathers....I wonder if I can draw my mandala designs on them. How would it stick? Time to do some thinking.
meds and escapes
We still have my mom's old pain medication sitting around. I haven't thrown it out yet. Not for any reason in particular except that it's difficult to do. To throw it away would make everything so much more final. To sort through her things, to give items away, to pack up and clean up the life she left behind.
Sometimes I have the urge to just go and drink all that is left of her oxycodone. To mix it with the anti-anxiety medication they gave her and just...just what? What do I hope to accomplish? To end everything that she put her life into building? That would be pointless...that would be an affront, a disrespect to her life, period.
I still think about it.
I've been a lot better lately, since my dad's birthday actually. We went out to the city, and spent the day there. I took him to the East River, showed him Renwick's, we went to the Norwegian Seamen's Church and witnessed a wedding, and then walked around Central Park. I don't think I've ever seen him so happy or carefree...at least in a long time. Maybe not since...since my favorite Christmas ever, in '06, when my mom and he and I went to see the tree at Rockefeller Center. More like we stumbled on it...
But while we were at the Norwegian church, there was a stool with a white satin cloth draped over it. We found out later it was meant to place the wedding cake on. But while the ceremony took place, it stood there, empty, with just that white cloth draped over it. And when I looked at it, it reminded me SO much of my mother that it was almost as though...as though I could reach out and touch her or like a de ja vu...you know when you see something that tugs at a memory that's just below the surface? Everything about that cloth was so...Mom. And finally, when I couldn't take it anymore, I turned to my dad and asked him if the cloth reminded him of anything.
He gave me a look, and then without reservation, said "Mommy."
How ironic is that?
Then, to make it even more....amazing....about halfway through the wedding ceremony I looked over at it again and it didn't remind me of her anymore. I tried studying the fall of the cloth, the folds and the design...nothing.
I was afraid to say anything in case my "spirit" couldn't pick up on it anymore, but when the ceremony was over, my dad turned to me and said, "do you notice you don't feel anything from over there anymore?"
SHE WAS THERE.
She had to have been. And that's had me feeling so much better, so comforted, lately.
I'm almost okay.
Most of the time.
Sometimes I have the urge to just go and drink all that is left of her oxycodone. To mix it with the anti-anxiety medication they gave her and just...just what? What do I hope to accomplish? To end everything that she put her life into building? That would be pointless...that would be an affront, a disrespect to her life, period.
I still think about it.
I've been a lot better lately, since my dad's birthday actually. We went out to the city, and spent the day there. I took him to the East River, showed him Renwick's, we went to the Norwegian Seamen's Church and witnessed a wedding, and then walked around Central Park. I don't think I've ever seen him so happy or carefree...at least in a long time. Maybe not since...since my favorite Christmas ever, in '06, when my mom and he and I went to see the tree at Rockefeller Center. More like we stumbled on it...
But while we were at the Norwegian church, there was a stool with a white satin cloth draped over it. We found out later it was meant to place the wedding cake on. But while the ceremony took place, it stood there, empty, with just that white cloth draped over it. And when I looked at it, it reminded me SO much of my mother that it was almost as though...as though I could reach out and touch her or like a de ja vu...you know when you see something that tugs at a memory that's just below the surface? Everything about that cloth was so...Mom. And finally, when I couldn't take it anymore, I turned to my dad and asked him if the cloth reminded him of anything.
He gave me a look, and then without reservation, said "Mommy."
How ironic is that?
Then, to make it even more....amazing....about halfway through the wedding ceremony I looked over at it again and it didn't remind me of her anymore. I tried studying the fall of the cloth, the folds and the design...nothing.
I was afraid to say anything in case my "spirit" couldn't pick up on it anymore, but when the ceremony was over, my dad turned to me and said, "do you notice you don't feel anything from over there anymore?"
SHE WAS THERE.
She had to have been. And that's had me feeling so much better, so comforted, lately.
I'm almost okay.
Most of the time.
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