growth chart

Sunday, September 28, 2003

leaving work today i was struck with the realization that i was not looking forward to tommarrow. nothing really is going on at all. that may be part of the problem. all last week i stayed up until my eyes burned so bad i couldn't keep them open and my head hurt was so heavy i didn't even want to think about how to get back to my room. amazingly i'd wake up 4 or 5 hours later and get up. i was totally exhausted. i wasn't doing anything special in the morning. i was getting up a good 2 hours before breakfast was even served. i did however watch the sunrise two mornings. without fail i took time to write in my journal all the spiffy musings i was having. all of my ground breaking discoveries about my life were recorded. most of all i was just enjoying being. just being. everytime we had a break i headed outdoors. 90% of the time being outside for me is like wrapping up in a cozy blanket, sitting in front of a fire, and cozying up with a special someone when the weather is super cold. oh ya, don't forget the hot cocoa with marshmellows:) i am so content to just listen to the breeze rustle the leaves, smell the grass, and listen to the birds or whatever is making noise. i love it. what gets me is how i don't make time to do this at home. i go across the country and do it, but not here. it's very simple and it's not like i was really looking at the view. hell it was the same everyday. it was the experience. i kept thinking i had to make most of my time there. what does that mean about how i'm spending my time here? when i wake up i role back over knowing that work is coming closer and closer until i just can't stay in bed any longer. my thoughts center around what i don't think i can do. what i don't have, whether i want it or not. i love watching the sunrise and not being rushed. yet i live my life on the edge of timeliness. usually i'm not. i put things off for so long i don't get to do anything. no so when i leave home. all of a sudden it's ok to do what you want and love. you're expected to let go and hang out. when you come home, though, you have to get back into the 'groove'. the monotonous life. no wander vactions always seem to far and few in between. the people that i know that are truely happy are the one's that look forward to each day. they are doing what they want and being who they really are. that's what i want for me.i want to get up every morning and watch the sunrise and write in my journal and drink juice. i don't want to be a 30 year old i want to be me. whatever age that translates into. i'm reading the oct. issue of O mag. it's all about aging. it couldn't have come at a better time for me. so many of the articles talk of what society thinks of aging, especially aging women and how we react to it. honestly i've crumbled under the preasure. i always talked big about loving the aging process. this year i've completly fallen apart. just getting used to the changes in my body are a huge deal. no one ever tells you that your body won't feel or do the same things as when you were 20. everyone cracks jokes, but there really is a huge difference. i don't even know what feeling fit is at this stage of life. my focus has been on getting that 21 year old body i had, but i'm not 20. hell, i don't even want that, i just want to be fit and not feel sluggish in mind and body. i most certainly don't have the time, money, or desire to go to a dietician or who ever would tell me what they think i'd need to do to be 'healthy'. thinking on it now i'd say that getting up and watching the sunrise would be a great start. i always have energy to do what i love. goodness knows the 5 mile walk i took one night is proof of that. i guess i answered my own question. truth is i had the answer all along. if someone else had needed it i'd have given it to them ages ago. too bad i don't listen to my own advise and experience like others do. maybe one day i'll learn that tidbit too.

Saturday, September 27, 2003

when i grow up i want to be a dancer. dance. my secret passion. i close the shades and put on a flowing dress or skirt. classical, alterantive rock, or 80's. it matters not. i take a deep breath to forget about the world outside and what they might think. i can feel my blood charging from the notes and rythym. pure emotion unharnessed. no thinking allowed. thoughts make my movements falter. freedom. my secret life as a dancer. free to feel without the judgement of others. free to act on those emotions without being told i should do it another way or i could do it better. free to let out the part of my soul that hasn't been hurt. the part i protect with the ferociousness of a lioness. growing up my home was where the trouble was. the outside world was where i found peace and some semblance of acceptance. as an adult my home is now my refuge. over protecting has now made it my prison. i feel jailed yet when i venture out the sense of freedom is terrifying. so many things to consider. too many to think about. am a pretty, funny, to big, too white, too quiet, too loud, too assertive, not assertive enough, too confused to venture out where there are people. all i really wanted when i grew up was to be happy. to finally be at peace with my life and those around me. enjoying new days and new experiences with those i love. the message i got over the years was that i'm not ambitious enough. what about a job and a 20 yr education that will make you more money. what about corporate life. it's the only way to truley be happy, to be able to buy all you hearts desires. don't forget about a man. a strong, sought after, affluent man who makes tons of cash. these are the goals you should want. things that are tangible. things you can see. feelings only get in the way. i'm 29 and a recovering codependant. who i am was defined by who i was with and which way the wind was blowing that day. by my family, whose view is so skewed that enough skewed isn't a good enough word. at 29 i am coming to terms with what i want. i am telling myself it is ok to not want those things. more importantly i'm beleiving it. there was a very brief time in histroy when i trusted myself. i was very little. now i have to trust myself for my own sake. when no one is listening i ask myself what i want and i give an honest answer. i want to be content. i want to be at peace. i want to be free. of course my childhood molded much of this but i don't care. that is what i want. it always has been. i'm ok with not making a ton of money and being able to travel at the drop of the hat or go out to dinner ever weekend. when i can these things will mean so much more. i lucky with my job. i actually travel a lot with them. my journey to 30 has been my most amazing adventure yet. i'm actually excited to see what's around the corner.

Friday, September 26, 2003

where to begin? i knew before i got home and checked my messages. now i'm not totally sure. my mothers oldest brother died suddenly about 10 years ago. i remeber sitting in a mtg at the container store when i got a call from my grandmother. we never talked so that made it even more odd. she told me he had died and reason she was calling me was becasue i needed to tell my mother. my mother was in jail. i was her link to the outside world. i got a call this past sat night from her 1) asking for money...nothing new; and 2) telling me her 2nd oldest brother m. now might have cancer. i left for san fran. on monday without calling her. i know it sounds cold, but given how they all treat each other i have a hard time with the sudden turns. whe won't even go to see her mother because he still lives there. she can't stand him, but now i'm supposed to be all mooshy because he might die. all my life i've know that he was a drunk a-hole who picked on me without mercy as a kid and was disrespectful and rude to me as an adult. he was always on me because i talked back to him and didn't treat him with respect. as far as i'm concerned he wasn't my mama so i had no reason to put up with his shit. so i didn't. in the past year i've talked to him maybe a total of 5min. only if i call my g-ma and he answers the phone. i get a message from my mom tonight telling me the scoop. the doctor says he has cancer thru out his whole body. it's matastisized (sp?). he has a lump on his lungs and a tumor the size of a golf ball on his brain. they can't go in and cut it out either. the doctors say he won't last 3 mos. my g-ma says he might have a year with the radiation. my uncle is 36.normally i'd be very concerned with how i'm 'supposed' to act or feel. everyday that goes by i care less and less about living how others think i should and more of how i want to. having said that, i don't feel a damn thing about him dying. this is a man that drinks and fights so much in my g-mas' house that she keeps a gun in her nightstand. if things get too rowdy between the two brothers she goes and gets it and tells them if they don't quit she'll shoot'em. why should he breath air when so many who are not a-holes don't. why after all that crap does my mother call on me to pray for him to live longer. what is she going to miss? someone who has attacked her? why? unfortunatley my mom talks about nothing. i know very little about her growing up. most of what i know was violent and unforving. she was basically kidnapped when she was 5 by her sick, abusive, and violent uncle. she wasn't rtned untill her teens. how do you interact with your family and siblings when you come back from that? how do you interact with men when you are gang raped in highschool? especially if your brothers are jerks too. not that bad, but definatly on the list. all i know of them is bad. my first uncle to die i absolutly adored. i miss him and i hate how his widow is raising their children. it makes me physically ill. how do people treat children like that? in 7 years i will be 36. if i got that news will i be able to look back on my life adn be happy with what i see? hell no! honest answers are hard to admit. too many times they are even hard to see. under my shell of protection i am a bitter, raging, lonely, fractured, painfully bleeding woman. i've put up so many walls to help patch things up that i don't even know where are what most of my hurts are. i feel gaingreened inside. rotting. i have no idea what will help fix it. cutting out my soul won't do. i can only have one and i'm having a devil of a time working with this one. i could spend all my time thinking of how i was called a slut, a liar, a horrible child, a goody-two-shoes, or a bitch by my mother or brother. i could rember being forgotten at school or church and being picked up 1 or 2 late. or even being made to fell like an absolute no good baffoon because i wasn't ready to go to the beach with my swimsuit and all...mind you she just said get up we're leaving. no indication of where we were going. all this and more. how the hell did i think i was going to come into adulthood without broken bones and bruises? i feel like i've been beat to a pulp and i'm so damned sensitive about everything. no wonder. don't talk about my body, hair, speech, walk, friends, work, education, curiosty, ect. at some point it's been turned into a granade and hurtled back at me. yet, i am the obediant daughter who grudgingly takes care of my mother b/c she's blood and she brought me into this world and raised me. i was thinking today of how many friends i've seen come and go and what they did for me or i for them. i always wanted to help heal their hurts or give tips on how the make the pain less sharp ect. i can't say i've ever felt that i've had a friend who truly tried to understand the depth of my hurts or the extent to them. perhaps that is why i retreat into my mind so often. i am my own best friend. i've learned to be my own cheerleader and comforter. my alone time is to dab my wounds, clean them as best i can, and try once again to do some healing vs. patching. relations with my mother and uncle are minor. the toughest is that between she and my brother. i wasn't going to type this tonight, but it's nagging me. she beat him. it's very simple to me. i was spanked, but he was beaten. when dead d. died everything got worst. hell became a place on earth and lived there with my family. he could do nothing right. if my mom caught him looking her direction she'd hit him for staring at her. truth is we both always knew where she was and what she was doing. we were good spy's. we never knew when shit would hit the fan. she bought him boots one year and he literally learned to walk like he was bare foot. if she heard one sound from them he was stomping and trying to annoy her. she'd hit him. if he dropped something he did it on purpose adn she'd hit him. his soul mission in life supposedly was to annoy the shit out of her and make her life miserable and he did it well and often. i'm surprised that meerly breathing didn't get him in trouble although if he did it too loud it did. i hated her growing up. i was afraid of her. i wanted a new life even if it was on the streets eating out of garbage cans. it was such a strong need to get away i ran away once. to my dismay i was caught. any thought of succesfully doing it was beaten out of me. thus here i am at 29 wondering why i have a few issuses. why do i love my mother? it would be grand if i didn't. my life would be so much simpler. when you are 15 and in your bedroom with the door shut and music on, your mother and brother are in her closet with the closet door shut, the bedroom door shut and you can still hear the smack of her hitting him you feel rage like nothing i can describe. to hear her yelling at him to not make a sound or she hit him again is excrusiating. how can someone call that a spanking? i don't understand what they are missing. when i was 15 my brother came back to our room after one of those such interactions. he took of his pants and i remember seeing his legs and bottom. he was bleeding. his face was soaked in tears. he expression hard as a rock. neither of us made a sound. we knew the rules quite well. oh, i forgot to tell about what brought this on. he'd not done his laundry so his hamper was too full. yup, that's it. for the 3rd time i was going to try and do something brave and complety against the mommy. i went to my highschool counselor and told them what happend. i didn't know much, but i know that they should have called dhs and kept me out of it. they did call and they went to my brothers school and took pics adn then took him away. i had to go home. that wouldn't have been bad since i knew he was safer, but they told her. they aren't supposed to. the calls are anonymous. not mine. and i didn't even call. she knew i was they one who told when i got home. spankings never worked on me as a kid. i stopped getting them when i was in 5th grade. mental bashing is the only way to knock me down and she knew it. she never placed a finger on me. she wanted to, but they were watching her. my g-ma called me, all her friends called me, all my relatives called me to ask how i could do such a horrific thing to my own mother. what kind of child was i? to make it worst my brother and her buddied up against me. making jokes and having a good time while i was stuck in my room. the outsider. the one who didn't belong, who didn't understand. i'd written to friends in cali and she never mailed the letters. she tore them up in my face. she found a letter from a friend in cali and read it. she was convinced i'd told her all. i didn't. she just knew i was lonely and was responding to that. my mom never let it go and never believed me. according to her i did all of this because i was mad at her for moiving me away from me friends. away from a boy i had a crush on. i never wrote to or called my friends back home again. i learned that to live a solitary life ment saftey for me and those i cared about. why bring someone else into my nightmare? why give her ammunition that you know she will use against you. i don't know how or when, but with out fail it has always worked. thus my willingness to walk away from a man i loved and a marraige i'd dreamt of my whole life. i hate my mother. she is a monster. dr jekel and mr. hyde are saints next to her. even dead d. who molested me for 6or 7 years didn't scar me like she has. when i was i child i used to pray to god to let one of us die. what a horrible thought for a 3rd grader. unfortunatly it is true. i wanted to live and enjoy all life had to offer, but not with her as my mother. thus my being suicidle as a kid. it's not that i didn't love life. i did. i loved so many things, i just didn't love them with her on the planet. sometimes i still catch myself praying that this will be the day i get the call. she didn't wake up and she is finally at peace. it's totally selfish because i will be too. if that can't happen then maybe tommarrow will be the day that i don't wake up and my guilt will be put to rest. all this from my mother. the one who gave me life. the one who has molded me into this people phobic, family hating, paranoid shell of a woman. at 29 if i was giving one year to live or even 3 months i would not spend any of that time with my family. as my mother always said...you should care because we are blood. unfortuatly that is the only reason i care.

Sunday, September 21, 2003

my childhood room: always had my brother in it. bright. walls were covered in posters(mine were of teddybears, compliments of my mom, and unicorns...god i loved those) bunkbeds we had since i can remember (i was always on top...my brother always fell out of the bed...he he, must be why he acts so braindamaged). toy chest that was also a bench. tall dresser(my brothers). small dresser with hutch(mine...gave me nightmares thru college). book case full of books we usually used to make roads for my brothers hot wheels. table and chairs made for us. basket of stickers( when we were in elementary school, we'd get a sticker if mommy felt we'd done well...no hugs, kisses, or good jobs in this family)

favorite thing about room as a kid: my unicorn posters. they were proud, strong, and glorious creatures. they inspired love, creativity, and defied the laws of logic. they were courgeous and feirce when crossed. and oh, they were beautiful. always, no matter if they were black or white. they were gentle and true. they were my guide for what life could be if one only believed. nothing like those i lived with. too bad i found out unicorns don't exist.

favorite thing about my room now: my brother is not in it. nothing else comes to mind. it's the place i sleep sometimes.

5 traits i liked about me as a child: i was never part of a clique. i knew everyone and was generally liked. i could draw really really well. when i was 10 or 11 i drew a portrait of my brother that was really good. i'm sure my mom has it. she has everyting. i was quiet. not really shy, just quiet. it's amazing how much you can see and learn if you'd just stop talking and watch people. not like now with my nervous babble. extremly creative. always making something or taking something apart and trying to put it together. i never wanted to solve problems or make things like everyone else. i like finding my own way. i knew i was worth something. anyone who told me otherwise was full of crap or just a complete idiot.

5 childhood accomplishments: almost all A's in 6th grade. never done before, but i'd never had so much fun in school. usually totally bored. i'm sure i'd have made A's had i done my homework. fasted jumproper in my whole school. for the elementary olympics between school's i came in 2nd. now, forget it, my arms would fall of by the 10th jump! writing, i had a binder about 2in. thick and it was full of poetry, short stories, and musings about life. it was my diary. my mom read it when i was 17 and used all the info in it against me. i havn't written since. i destroyed the whole thing lest someone else find it and use it as ammunition against me. a whole part of my life is gone. those were my memories. portrait of my brother and a bald eagle. damn they were really good! i played softball for about a month. i wouldn't do my homework so my mom made me quit...battle of the wills, i won. flipped of the junior high bully and escaped without any bodily damage. she made a face at me on a bad day. i flipped her off and when she treatened me i told her to fuck off. this was someone who pummeled a good friend of mine out of no where one day when we were walking home. he was hurt pretty badly. i didn't care, she was a bitch and that day she was barking up the wrong tree. she never did anything to me. maybe she wasn't used to people blatantly not giving a fuck.

5 childhood favorite foods: i was a really really really picky eater so this one might be hard. my mom's potatoe salad, otter pops, lemons, granny smith green apples, milk! and toasted peanutbutter and jelly.

3 obvious rotten habits: not cleaning house until i can't stand it anymore. i can't concentrate in a dirty house so i don't do anything. when i get fed up i don't have time to do anything, but clean. going to spend time with 'friends' i don't really want to see. i don't end up doing anything and since i'm not home i can't work on anything here. purposely not getting up when i wake up. ex: this morning woke up happy and refreshed at 8:30am, but didn't get out of bed till 10:30am. there was no point expect to aviod maybe doing something creative and productive.

3 subtle rotten habits: i'm really great at finding and spending time with people who do not build me up. not only am i not special, i'm actually odd, wierd, messed up or immature. i feel confined when with them, but it's what i know. god forbide i actually spend time with someone who believes in me and encourages me and lifts me up as a person and as an artist. hell alomost no one i know even knows what i can do. best not to tell them they may stomp on my dreams some more. sex, sex, sex. as much as i'd like to blame it all on my 30's prime time, it's not totally true. i like a good fuck. actually i really really enjoy and have fun with a good skrew, but truth is more often then not i use it to avoid creating. to fill the void that only creating (usually writing or drawing) fills. crap, that's only two! this would be easier if they weren't so damned subtle. eating. i'm not fat, but i've been eating a lot and i know what makes me feel like crap or super sleepy after i eat it and i do anyways. again food never fills the whole that my creativity used to, but why take the risk. the one person who should have been more careful and gentle took my heart out while it was beating and slowy shredded it over the next few years. of all the things done and said to me growing up that was the most damaging and the most extreme betrayal. she totally didn't get it. what it all ment. nor did she even try. i can definatly say that's when i truely stopped caring, hoping, loving, or even trying to be anything.

list of friends who nuture me:

this means i have no one to call or reach out for support to.

truth is so many i know will say this is not true or will even be offended by this, but at the end of the day i will feel like it was all hollow. things said because that is what you should do, but because it is true. if any of this were not true i'd have names to type in.

5 people i admire:j., p., ...i need to start looking for some role models!

5 people i secretly admire: madonna, oprah, queen latifa...ditto!

5 people i wish i had met that are now dead: my greatgrandfather, my fathers parents, micheal angelo, albert einstein, cleopatra

5 people who are dead that i'd like to hang out with for eternity:that's a long time...right now i guess the same people

my favorite childhood toy: bristle blocks! colorfull, loved the texture, and you could really make anything!

favorite childhood game: hide and seek with presents. i loved making up riddles that lead to more riddles and then finally the prize.

best movie ever from childhood: the boy who could fly or enemy mine

don't do it much but i enjoy: laying on a blanket and staring at the sky...great way to fall asleep.

if i could lighten up a little, i'd: get some crazy spunky hair do! maybe dreads!

if it weren't too late, i'd: be a cheerleader

favorite musical intrument: flute

amount of $ spent on treating myself to entertainment each month: $5-10 if that...on things i truely enjoy...not vices like eating out b/c i have a void.

if i weren't so stingy with my artist, i'd buy myself: a funky new laptop! i'd be able to write when ever and where ever i wanted. i'd get something more user freindly then what i have. i'm not a computer buff nor do i want to be, but to do much on my system i need to be :( and it's not portable

taking time out for myself is: a pain in the ass

i am afraid that if i start dreaming: i may never come back to reality. as it is i spend way too much time day dreaming

i secretly enjoy reading: romances with true and thick plots. favorite book of all time is gone with the wind

if i had had a perfect childhood i'd have grown up to be: an artist of all trades( sculpt, write strories and poetry, painter, ect.)

if it didn't sound crazy, i'd write ro make a: i'd go back and try to rewrite all my lost stories and poems from growing up

my mom thinks artist are: don't know never has been an option for a full time job...not until i am famous...otherwise it is a hobby

my god thinks artist are: don't know, don't talk to him much lately

what makes me feel weird about this recovery is: i always thought i had this beat...mind over matter. to see how my childhood has made me stuck like so many other unfortunate people is frustrating. i never thought i really had childhood issues, but it stands to reason that i would.

learning to trust myself is probrably: the hardest thing i will ever do

my most cheer me up music is: first thought is 80's, but truth is the soundtrack to moulin rouge! can't help but to dance when i listen to it and dancing always makes me feel better...singing too;)

my favorite way to dress: comfortable with always a little something out of the norm. (usually my hair)

Saturday, September 20, 2003

blog blah blog blah blog. i'm barely awake yet, even though i've been trying to wake up for two hours. i figure if i blog before i'm completly awake i might say something of intrest. i had some crazy dreams last nigt. crashing planes, flowers the size of giants, and mushrooms that grew miles long. oh yeah, and it was all covered in snow and was a giant play ground for hundreds of children. very odd.

p.l. wrote a blog that got me to thinking about relationships and time. d was my first boyfriend. we started dating shortly after i turned 16. i'd had my crushes before then, but was not allowed to date, nor was i really interested. funny thing is if i hadn't asked him out we would probrably have never gotten together. at 29 i can honestly say i've never had a guy, whom i've been interested in, ask me out. anyways, that one little question turned into a 10yr relationship. no we weren't together the whole time. we had our break ups, and even got married for 1.5years. what even more crazy is after we were divroced we still saw each other. i walked away from our marraige (sp.?) and he finally moved across the country. i would love to say that was the end, but we drug it out for another 2 years. finally a week before my 26th b-day i got a letter in the mail saying we were trully over and he was already dating other folks. it sucked the first 100 times i read the letter. i'm sure it was the 101st time that i read the rest of it. he did still love me, but we obviously weren't ever going to work and it was hurting us both to pretend otherwise. evertime we got together old habits kicked in and we would end up in the same place evertime. apart. almost 4 years later i'm still not seeing anyone. i don't want to ask anyone out...i just don't want to be bothered. i want someone who is more then just a bed buddy, but i don't want a husband. there seems to be a shortage of men in between, or i'm just not finding them. i'm really outgoing and friendly until you want to get to know me. if i had to be completly honest, i'd say i have a lot of issues. i hate that word. i hate beleiving that after years of trying to not become my family that i was almost doomed to come out this way. who i am has always been a source of jokes and ammunition for the fam. the less i share the better. too many people are like that also. my heart is hidiously scared and disfigured. most of the time i don't want to look at it let alone actually give someone else a glance. turing 30 seems to be this trek to understanding yourself better. figuring out where you've been, where you are going, and who that makes you. i look inside, but i don't look for long. what i see is ugly, cruel, vindictive, and decieving. any bit of goodness seems to be an echo of a lost childhood. i look to others, who say they care, for clues as to who i am and what type of person i want to be. truth is that mirror is a reflection of them, not myself. the people i spent time with are good people, only i'm realizing there is very little we have in common, and i don't truely enjoy being with them. it's a life i told myself i should have...the good person's life. it fits me about as comfortably as a pair of size 6 shoes, size 34 pants, a 38a bra, and blonde hair! (shoe 9.5, clothes 10-12,bra 34ddd, hair black) i'm in a constant state of discomfort. nothing fits like it should, some to small, some too big, i can't get comfortable no matter what i do. my ex is on the other side of the country happily remarried going on 3 years. i, on the other hand, feel like the same miserable wrech he met when we were 16. can someone tell me how this is fair? i'm so sorry, that was a slip...everyone knows life is not fair. why me? i don't even want much out of life. i want to live a simple quiet, happy life. if that is with a sig. other, then so be it. if not, then that's fine too. i don't want riches. more money seems to always lead to more stuff,and more stuff makes more problems. love, seems too risky. fame has never intersted me. the last thing i need is the world judging my life and it being plastered all over the media. i would say that maybe i'm a loner, by nature but i'm not. i enjoy being in the mix. i read a passage in a book last night challenging me to look at my friends, family and activities to see what is holding me back at an artist/ creative being. no one in my family inspires me, in fact just thinking about them my creative mind shuts down. i go into defense mode...i have to be ready for anything. my friends don't inspire me or really encourage me. of course they pat you on the back because they should, but i don't really feel supported. usually i get the down side of the pic so i can make the 'right'/intellegent descision. 90% of the time i'm frustrated when i'm with my 'friends'. if i walked away, i'd have almost none, but at this point that would feel better then suffocation. i've been trying to fit myself into the section of america that says, you go to a great college, get married, have children, high paying job, house, nice new car, church every 3 days, ect. i've tried all of the above and failed miserably. i don't really want any of them. a high paying job would be nice, but i get paid well, and as times goes i'll get paid better. i can definatly live comfortably. i can think of 2 maybe 3 i'd want to keep as friends. j, is a great guy. i feel comfortable with him and he is completly non judgemental of me or so it's seems. i've gotten more encouragement from him in a year then i have from all my friends put getter this year. d, is really great also. he's super out going and is a constant force is helping me see the great things about me i don't. it's great because with out fail they will both contact me at least once a week regardless of how busy they get. can't say the same for others i know. an old 'friend' of mine once said "regardless of what we'd like to think we truely do spend our time where our priorities are." i know they talk to their other friends, i'm just not on the list. i'm becoming more and more ok with this. d#2 i'll call him is genuine. he's the iffy one. quiete by nature nothing seems to really happen when we are together. i remember when we met we cut up a lot and just seemed to have a good time. now i'm just frustrated. i treat him like my 'friends' and yet he is nothing like them. he knows more about me then the other 2 and i can't help but feel like he puts up a front to make me feel better. the "oh my god! what a freak" responce is held at bay until i'm gone. it stands to reason i believe this because i believe this so strongly about myslef. i know the same will happen as j and d learn more about me. it's happening already with d. learning to like what i see in the mirror is not an easy task. i've got 29 years of thinks to not like. there are good things i know about myself, but feeling them is complety different. i'm begining to wonder if i will ever feel good about who i am and my so called life. who wants to be freinds with someone so down on themselves? or is it that most people feel the same and just don't speak up. they just don't have the heart or courage to fess up and face it until the problem is solved or at least better. am i too much of a reminder of the truth? i don't suppose i really care one way or the other. i still only have 2.5 friends if even that. oh well. life goes on.

Thursday, September 18, 2003

i should be doing something else right now. i really don't want to, so here i am. i've been reading blogs and journals of other people this morning. i thought i might read something to spur me into action. no such thing occured. non the less, here i am. i'm quite amused with how quickly my self confidence goes from a fortress to a piece of kleenex. one minute i've got tons i want to type and the next i find none of it interesting enough to even think about. truth is i'm turning 30 in feb. that isn't a big deal to me. i'm actually looking forward to it. it's the road there that is giving me grief. yesterday on the way to work i drove by a cyclist. now, i'm a legs woman and let me tell you, this man had great lookin' legs! as i passed him i realized he was old enought to be my grandfather! that weirded me out completly. ok, only for a minute or so. he was really good looking. on the other hand there's a young'n that is seeing one of my employees and he's pretty hot too. this is odd to me since i've never been attracted to men more then a year younger then myself. sexual prime here i come!

i've got two pups. they are great, especially on days when life just isn't being kind. actually they aren't puppies. one it 10yr and the other is 1ry. amazingly they get along quite well, and the older is a lot more active then she used to be.

next week i go to california for 4days. it's for work, but i'm still excited. i grew up there and it will be my first time being home in 15 years. it's so odd to see that considering half of my life i was there and the other half was spent here. i'm finally settling into the idea that i don't have to care what anyone thinks about my life, thus my first entry. i was practicing the back off statemnet. i didnt' mean to come off as harshly as i did. i am rough around the edges, but not that rough. my first instinct is to a;ologize to anyone i may have offended, but then that would defeat the point to the statement. fact is i do love my job. it's hard and i get very little thank u's or pats on the back, but i really do enjoy it. i've gotten 3 really great friends out of the deal, if nothing else. my boss is incredible. she came to see my store last week and for almost 4 hours of her visit we talked about me and my life. she's and awsome listener and she really does care. that pretty much sealed the deal for me. i know she is concerned about my buisness as well, but it was really great how she tried to help me come up with was to relax and get away if i ever got that depressed again. what can i say, she's awsome!
i look at so many people around me and see how miserable they are at their jobs. i've read lots of journals over the past week and i don't know how people get up in the morning and convince themselves to go back to work. there are a ton of people that would never take my job. it's hard, crazy, and the dress code alone would drive any sane adult away, but i can honestly say for me it's fulfilling.

it would be great if i could blog in bed. eww! that sounds really nasty!! anyways, when i first wake up all sorts of random and interesting things go thru my brain. by the time i get up i'm awake and in analytical mode. a downfall of mine=over analyzing everything! it would be great if i could get some kind of implant that would allow all of my thoughts to instantaniously pop up on my blog! ususaly before i finish typying one thought another 3 have already gone by.

i have been somewhat productive today. i finished all of my laundry, washed all my dishes, and excersised. this year i've gained 40lbs. good god ! that's alot of poundage. getting rid of it's not as easy as i thought it would be. ok, not totally true. for the most part my body wants to be fit. not thin, but fit. i'm definatly thinning faster then i thought i would, but the tummy behind are going to firm up as quickly as i'd like. sit ups, push ups, and and other weight lifting don't really grab my intrest. i do them, but i hate them. i'm hopeless. i believe all i do in life should be fun in some way. there is not a whole lot of fun in push ups. actually there is no fun in them at all! this is all from being raised in a strict household. kids were not seen or heard regardless of what was said. once we hit 18yr we were adults, but only when it suited the mommy. now i'm pushing 30 and life hasn't changed, thus my crazy attempt at something different, by blogging.

we won't talk about the mom or the brother just yet. that will put me in a state not easily backed out of. lot's of anger there. rage is more like it. rage...i like the sound of that...rage, rage, RAGE!!!

i really must eat soon. i guess this would be a great time to stop since i have to get ready for work and eat. FOOD IS GOOD. i guess i will go. today i will remember all those poor folks out there with dickweeds for boss's or with no jobs at all. that should help me feel better about the idiots i work with;)

Wednesday, September 17, 2003

Tuesday, September 16, 2003

almost there. almost where? hell, i have no idea. it's well past midnight and i have no buisiness being up. i don't even know if this is for me. it's totally experimental.

today i'm doing well, but most days i feel like i'm walking on the edge. a gentle breeze could push me over the edge, but it never does. tommarrow always comes. what the hell am i talking about. nothing right now. i'm just rambling. it's nervous babble. the idea of a blog sounded like a great idea. now that i'm actually doing it and people might read it, i'm not so sure. i've been toying with the idea of doing this for a week. obviously i've decided to give it a try.

my spelling, grammer and punctuation suck. i already know this and i don't give a fat fuck. if you are a stickler for any of the above then don't come back. i'm not writing to win any awards. i'm writing for release. to see if i can gain some sense of control or freedom in my life. i don't want my life nit picked at by some super anal english freak. if that is you then i suggest you go read something else. if i work up the courage to write again i want people to read it for the content. because they might have similar frustrations or even advise. wow! to actually have someone to blog to about life's crap. i don't know yet. we'll see. still super nervous, but what the hell. i'll only live once.

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?