It's The End Of The World As We Know It. .....Again.

For somewhere around the 20th time in the past decade and a half, it's the end of the world. ....again.

Let's set the mood, shall we?





Yep.  It's that time again.  The time for panic and self fulfilling prophecy of the end of the world spawning tragic events.  And this week has had its overwhelming share of things that I'm sure plenty of people are scratching their heads, as well as their asses, thinking things are "a sign" of what's to come.

I personally decline to take a side because frankly I don't see much point.  If I were to say the world is definitely going to end, it's not as if I will have bragging rights the day after, now do I?  No.  All that does is set one up for ridicule when it doesn't.  But I'm not going to say that things are going well either.  ...To be honest, at this point, "I'm ready to kick back and welcome the end of existence." -Dogma.

But let's get down to it, shall we?  Starting with self fulfilling prophecy.

I hate to say, but I'm really feeling that people, assuming this is the "end," are using the excuse to just not give a shit anymore.  Hey, why not charge everything to the Mastercard?  World's going to end anyway.  Might as well get that big screen TV I've been wanting and hey, why not get that new sports car as well...  Okay.  I'm a fan of people living in the moment and doing what's going to make them happy.  Not a fan of financial irresponsibility.  But there are worse things you can do.  Like, say...  commit horrendous crimes.  I'm not saying that this had anything to do with the horrible tragedy that occurred a few days ago in one of our nation's elementary school's.  I'm just saying that similar situation are the kind of self fulfilling prophecy bullshit that CAN happen.  If one believes it is the end of the world and starts acting like a monster, the rest of the world begins to believe it is the end of the world because monsters in it are one of the "signs" and the cycle continues.  Things just keep getting worse and worse because... well, if we're all sentenced to death anyway, what's the difference, right?  Wrong.  Back away from the grape Kool-Aid!  You don't have to drink it just because you think you'll die anyway.  Where's the logic in....  you know what...  never mind.  If you want to chlorinate your personal gene pool a little, really who am I to stop you?  Ya done Darwin proud.





Why the World Didn't End Yesterday (Next Week.)...
I'm especially enjoying this video NASA presented ...um.  ...last week?  In response to what ...um... happen-ed NEXT week?  ...As an English major the past tense future tense here is making my head spin.  I'm just going to assume NASA has a time machine and got a little lost somewhere along the way.  Google maps must not have an app for that yet.



Oh NASA....  If you want to make a video about why the world didn't end yesterday, be confident enough in your statement to not release the video until the day after people are expecting the world to end.  It kind of sends the wrong message.  This video was released 10 days premature.  Also, the bit where you claim that if an asteroid or some such thing were on a path toward us we would see it coming?  ....Not such a reassuring statement considering the same day you released this video we learn that a previously UNKNOWN asteroid passed within the our moon's orbit.  (Which we did not see coming as the earth cast a shadow on it.)




Now there are conflicting reports on this if you go off and do further research.  The confusion is over the reported size of the asteroid, some claiming it was about the size of a bus, while other say it is over two miles in diameter (about twice the size of the one thought responsible for the death of the dinosaurs.)  Here's where the confusion is.  They are two separate asteroids.  The larger of the two, we did in fact know about and are not expected to be in risk of impact for another 600 years.  (By then we will have developed a pill for that, right?)  The smaller, while we didn't know about it, and I'm certain more research is needed before any legitimate estimations can be made, It is not world wide catastrophic.  It would certainly be a tragedy, to impact with it, but it is not in the classification some would refer to as "global killer."  ...so...  ya know.  There's some comfort.

In the end, I suppose the best advice I can give everyone is "relax."  Take a deep breath of that polluted air we've all come to love so dearly, and let go of some of this stress.  As someone who has studied this stuff at GREAT length I can assure you that the Mayans did not predict the end of the world.  Only a mathematical recycling of their calendar.  Yes it is supposed to be mated with spiritual aspects, but maybe it's high time for that after all.  With a little hope and patience and love, maybe we can get past all this tragic nonsense and self fulfilling prophetic horror.  Maybe we can work together to usher in a new age with this calendar, where we finally come together to love each other.  I know it's a long shot, but it's just another one of those prophecies we can throw out there, in hopes of self fulfillment.

In the meantime, have a Happy Solstice everyone.

Fashion Industry is a Brilliant Lie.

I love when conversations spawn odd silly thoughts that you can't help but continuously ponder for days on end.  The most recent of conversations to inspire this was about clothing.  More than that, the evils of clothing.  No, I'm not going to tell tale of a rogue argyle sweater that roves the countryside on a blood thirsty killing spree.  ...Though I'm tempted.  I've heard worse plot starters.  But no.  I'm talking about the superficial judgments they inspire.

The Amish, after all, make a point of wearing very plain uniform clothing to avoid that whole "Pride" problem.  Everyone is equal.  And isn't that often the point of school uniforms as well?  And what about in the workplace?  The peons all get one uniform, and usually management is encouraged to dress differently and "nicer," until you reach the head of the corporation who is presenting in full Armani.  Yup.  Clothing is by nature designed to give status as well as sex appeal.  The more successful you are, the better dressed and more sex appeal you are expected to have.


Where we're going, we don't need clothes.

In one of the few discussions I was having this week, the idea of a world without clothes was proposed.  A world where everyone is equal and you can't tell a millionaire from a peasant by sight alone.  A world where men have to take responsibility for their own actions rather than blaming rape on a woman "asking for it" because of what she was wearing.  Or a world wear people aren't shot just because they are wearing baggy pants or a hoodie.  Now, I know this is not always going to be the case.  And yes, there is the issue of people feeling bullied for their natural physical form, and I can COMPLETELY understand that.  (Despite the fact that I feel ALL natural forms are beautiful, whether fat or thin, lanky or squat.)  I'd like to be able to say that maybe having everyone on a more equal ground would help us get away from judging others.  But I'm sure that isn't true, as another more different conversation I had this week revolved around People of Walmart .com and ripping people unfortunate enough to be posted to the sight a new one.  But before I get off track...

So, what I find ironic about the fashion industry, is the higher end fashions, are designed in a way that can make you SO attracted to the individual wearing the fashion that you pretty much want to see them naked.  ...I'll restate that.  We wear high fashion clothes, so that people will want to see us naked.  Maybe its just me, but I feel we could skip a step or two and a lot of time and money in that by just cutting to the chase.  ;)

HUGZ

Today while walking to my Chemistry Lecture class, I had to walk past a small group of people hanging out in a spot that seems both popular and oddly inconvenient....  As I was passing, one of the individuals looked up, angled toward me, stretched out his arms, and asked me if he could have a hug.

"A hug?"  I repeated back shrugging.  "Sure!"

We hugged very briefly, and I was on my way.





This is what I would like to discuss from this experience:

My initial reaction to this was to think how things like this don't really happen that often.  I was sad for how our society has de-evolved.  How people live their lives so closed off, and distrusting.  I mean, how awesome are hugs?  This individual totally brightened my day.  How awful a concept it is that people are guarded against a gesture as simple as a hug, or how much courage it would even take to offer a complete stranger a hug.

But the more I reflected on this...  I had to change my mind.  Why?  Because there was one little fact that I have yet to mention.  Something that is, in present day, otherwise nearly insignificant.  (And with hope someday will be completely insignificant.)  The man that asked for /offered this hug, is African American.

So, I have to revise my original statement on our society disintegrating.  Because as rare as a stranger giving another stranger a random hug may be today, a short 60 years ago, two complete strangers, a black man and white woman, randomly hugging in a crowded public place, would have been next to unfathomable.

Maybe it's a glass half empty/full thing, but I have to acknowledge the vast improvement on this one point at least.  We may have a long way to go.  We may be backsliding on other aspects.  But how amazingly awesome is it that our society has come so far on righting at least this one aspect?

RESET

The last you heard from me was with promises still of elaborating on something that had upset me last spring.  Well, I've decided that isn't going to happen.  Not now anyway.  I'm sure the person that upset me will cross my path again someday, and I'm sure I'll be tempted to explain it all again then.  But for now all I would have to say to this person is this:

I haven't even engaged in conversation with you in well over a year without the exception of you speaking to me first, so telling people I'm stalking you is absurd and a little creepy at this point. You are beneath me.  Stop dragging me into your drama.  Get over yourself.

Enough said.  (For now at very least.)

My life has actually significantly changed in the last year.  But I'm trying to think of a year that I've been able to look back and not say that.  It's funny how things never seem to alter too much from day to day, but will be significantly different by the end of the week.  (Then again, I have had some whoppers of sudden change in a single day as well.)  But where I am right now is in the second year of college and taking things relatively easy.  Not pushing myself to do too much like I always used to, but keeping busy all the same.  I've started some new courses, and I'm enjoying everything but English it would seem.  (Irony not lost on me.)  I've started writing for the Royal Purple, the school paper.  I'm learning Japanese and it would seem I'm not horrible at it.  I'm still working And my social life is getting a bit more back on track.  In fact...  I may or may not have met someone...  (Don't want to get ahead of myself there.)

I suppose this is where the most significant change has occurred for me.  The social life in general, not the meeting someone.  Because as you all know, I'm REALLY not wanting to or looking to have anyone in my life in a romantic capacity.  I just don't see it working out with the whole college and career track thing.  Time is a precious commodity and not something I have to spend on romantic partners....  damn it, I'm getting ahead of myself again.  It's the social life in general that I was talking about here. Right...

So, at the beginning of this year I briefly had enough curiosity to visit the Non-Trad Pad.  A small corner of the University Center for the Adult students to call home and connect.  The first day I went was interesting.  Nothing special, but interesting enough to inspire a second visit.  The second day...  was nothing. A complete let down actually.  Only one other person was there, and we didn't mesh on any level.  Nothing against the person particularly, he's actually very kind and gentle.  It's just sometimes you just find little things like tone of voice or habits grating at times.  I'm confident that others have felt the same about me as well.  We all have our pet peeves.

I left that day thinking I wasn't going to be trying that out very often anymore.  But on my way out I was stopped by another non-trad woman I had never met before who informed me they were having a meeting that night that I should attend.  Reluctantly I agreed, thinking it might be worth a listen to what other adult activities were coming up.  Imagine my surprise when I arrived at the meeting to find it was not to give information about the upcoming events, but to plan them.  I'm suddenly making flyers and doing more hands on work with the group, and finding myself in the Non-Trad Pad every school day.  Brilliant.

But since then I have had people to go bowling with, to corn mazes with (if it hadn't been cancelled for rain.) and this weekend I will be walking in the homecoming parade with the group as well.  And yesterday I even had a new friend over for video games and movies.  Yay for social life again.

I'm sure I'll have more to say soon, but I had to catch everyone up to speed before further posts.  And by "all" I mean the three people that maybe actually be reading this.  This is kind of my way of hitting the reset button on my blog.  I've decided to take a new approach to my posts to encourage posting more frequently.  And with a little less...  um...  I don't know...  whining?

Forewarning, the posts to come may seem a bit more on the disjointed side.  What I'm intending is to use this space almost as a format like that of the Facebook status update, between the more detailed postings.  Slightly longer that status updates... but random passing thoughts in general.  And on that note, I will end this post with just such a thing as example proper:

Hugging Etiquette?

There is a certain unspoken set of rules for just about everything.  Including hugs goodbye.  Is it just me or would you agree with my following thoughts here?

If it is close family a hug is a hug, doesn't matter how long or short.
If it is a romantic partner, there is a certain expected time minimum to meet.  If the hug is too short, it feels like something is amiss.
If it is a platonic relationship, there is a time maximum and hugging too long can make it seem like something more and can start to lean towards the definition of an "embrace."
Which then would have to be remedied by introducing the "friend tap"--a quick double pat on the back cuing the end of the hug--placing the hug back into a category of between friends and something more.

I Don't Sleep Anymore

I don’t sleep anymore.

Sure, I may lie in my bed for 8 hours or more with my eyes shut, but it isn’t sleep.  Not really.  I’ve been having nightmares.  The kind that you can’t remember.  The kind that are actually just regular dreams but you wake from them thinking something horrible was about to happen, and you just don’t know what.  You got out of there before it did.

Actually, I do remember a couple of bits and pieces here and there.  A dream about a former employer thinking I was awful at my job.  A dream about being on a date with some attractive stranger and just plain wanting to wake up before anything good or bad happened.  A dream about getting really fat until my knees were sagging upwards.  (Don’t ask.)  But remembering three snippets of dreams when I know I've been having at least 5 unique dreams each night is hardly a good track record.

It’s been like this for the last month or so.  I stare at my computer, usually until 3 or 4 in the morning either writing or doing work on illustrations…  Taking occasional breaks for Castelville…  I go to bed, and the next 6-8 hours of sleep happen in chunks of half hour dosages.  I assure you it’s driving me out of my pretty little mind.  Particularly when the rest of the diurnal world wakes and has no awareness that my apartment sucks in every little sound like some audio vacuum.  Granted I have been saved from a couple of dreams by this and should be thankful, but I’m not.  I used to be able to sleep through a dump truck driving through a nitroglycerin plant.  But I guess due to the stress of the last couple of weeks and the nightmares I’ve been having as a result, I’ve become quite the light sleeper.

I’ve been bottling a few things lately, and I think it’s coming close to that time of the great purge.  I’ll have to work on those posts I’ve been meaning to very soon here.  Just not tonight.  Tonight, I’m going to NEED my rest.  I have to be at the art studio by 11, and from there I have to go to my mother’s for a “project” she has for me.

She’s been asking for a while and I’ve been putting it off.  But today’s phone call she added a little extra incentive as she let it slip that she discovered a couple of savings bonds (a few months back) of mine.  Yup.  The same savings bonds I asked my mother to relinquish to me near a decade ago and she insisted they were non-existent/already cashed.  …I’d say that it’s better late than never, but I’m not getting hopes up.  I’m willing to bet that they will have mysteriously disappeared again by time I get there tomorrow afternoon.

It’s okay.  I have other things to look forward to tomorrow.  After my mother’s I will be heading off to see musical in Burlington and have dinner with a friend of mine whom I haven’t seen in person in a good 5 years.  She and I met doing theater and are going to support other friends in this production.  This is the second play I will be going to this week actually as I saw, I Love You You’re Perfect Now Change, last night.  Very cute show by the way.

Anyhow.  Here’s wishing you all sweet dreams, and hoping you get more rest than I have been lately.  I'm hopeful now that we have some rain falling tonight that I will rest a bit easier.  G‘night all.

You Should Be Righting Write Now.

A few weeks ago I found out about someone saying some rather unwarranted things about me, and since I've really wanted to vent about it here.  But I'm resisting, and this post instead is going to be about the habit of not only writing, but the habits of writers.  (No I don't mean taking to alcohol.)

As a writer I have a fair network of writer friends.  And with any profession or even obsessive hobby, you get those fanatics that have difficulty dealing with the average person's menial mistakes.  When it comes to writers, number one on the list of offenses comes to be misuse of gramar, spelling, or even just confusing words.

 


Here's what I've noticed.  The people that predominantly bitch about this are usually not helping anything at all really.  The way I see it you can either gently and kindly try educating those closer to you if you know that they legitimately DON'T know the difference, or shut up.  Yelling at people mid argument on youtube comment threads and facebook statuses just to prove you have an education isn't really accomplishing anything."But I see people do this all the time that should know better!!!," you say. (BTW I threw in the extra exclamation points for effect just for you.  My personal gift.  Get over it.)  ;)  You may have proven you have grammatical skills and vocabulary vs your nemesis, but you've also proven you have the social skills of a 7th grader.  Congratulations.  The people you're attacking are really only thinking this.

 

Unless it's me.  I have a whole different category of thoughts for you.  ...granted, none of them too friendly.

As I mentioned earlier, I write.  I write a great deal.  Enough so that I'm developing issues in my wrists and joints, though I know the proper preventative positions I'm suppose to maintain at a keyboard.  I write so much that it is finally starting to pay the bills.  Not completely, but hey, more than previous years.  I never thought I'd make it this far.  When I began writing I did so as a means of entertainment, venting, and hobby only.  Going in reverse order:  It wasn't until my early twenties that I started to suspect that I could maybe make some money on the side with it.  It wasn't until my first attempt at college (an art school) that I realized that I loved to create and tell stories and that I wasn't going to be happy as an animator.  I wanted to create, not work on other peoples' creations.  And it was in high school that I HATED and even FAILED English.

I just didn't get it.  English was hard for me.  Back then I didn't understand the difference between too, to, and two, as easily as I do now.  I had been through nearly a dozen school transfers and picking up where the other kids, and sometimes states, left off was not always an easy task.  The teachers didn't care about ability to tell a story, or plot structure, but grammar and spelling.  Yet, at this point they weren't "teaching" grammar and spelling anymore, just telling you when you were wrong.  Eventually classes got bigger, less one on one time could be afforded, and instead of hearing, "wow, great story, but let's go over the mistakes you're making on spelling in these sections," I just got to read a giant red marker, "C-."  Instead of taking that as a criticism on the technicalities alone, I just started to believe I was a bad writer.  I still loved it though, and thankfully so did my friends.  They begged me for more pages of the novel I was writing in high school and passed loose sheets from desk to desk during classes as I scribbled.  This was the only thing that kept the flame for the hobby kindled enough under my ass to launch me forward later.  Point is, those who are only concerned about the other crap?  Not really supporting and encouraging the arts nearly as much as their delusions may be convincing them. 


 
 
Those of you who may personally know me might be thinking, "But, you're a really good writer and well educated, and we know you're smart!"  Yes.  Now, I have a fairly stacked vocabulary and understanding of "the rules."  But it took me a long time, and the initiative of going out and learning it on my own.  And yes, I too cringe when incorrect variations of words are used willy-nilly, but I take it with a grain of salt and have the sense to not publicly tear into people for it.  I have the competence to know the difference between those who just don't care, those who just haven't been given or don't understand the information of which version of a word is appropriate, and those who just made a typo. All that and the fact that I know I still have a great deal to learn still, and still use too many commas at times, or just plain make little slips.

This is where the bulk of my resentment comes in.  I was talking to a friend last week who was gracious enough to discuss paranoia over making a mistake in simple text messages.  She expects ridicule and must fight with her phone to fix it before pressing send.  I empathized as I do the same.  There is this extra ounce of pressure on those who carry a reputation for being well educated like she and I.  We not only hear, "you're wrong," but "you should know better."

Really, jackass?  I do know better most times.  And if I don't, as mentioned before, this is not the way to share your knowledge with me and help me to not make the same mistake again later, just a way for you to try and bully me by saying "I'm smarter than you."  This is something I encounter most often in other "writers."  And I'm putting that in quotes because these are people that aren't actually writers, but editors.  These are people that I know that write for magazines and various columns that really don't do much of anything on a creative level, but rather copy and paste facts into organized boxes.  These are not the people who have written hundreds of short stories, or four hundred page novels.  These are people who simply cling to wanting the label of "writer" as if it lends their cubicle life some pretense of prestige.  What these individuals fail to understand is the concept of muscle memory.

I have another friend that has really started to knuckle down and write much more actively than he used to.  He's noticed an odd increase in misused words/spellings and similar typos.  I found myself explaining how the more you write, the more the chances are that your fingers are going to go on autopilot and type the version of the word they are accustomed to typing out most often.  In other words, if you use the word "their" three times in the last paragraph, it is only going to be that much harder to switch to "there" in the next paragraph.  Or sometimes even the next day.  Problem is, when you're getting extra creative, your brain is so focused on the story as it is unfolding in your head that it really isn't putting your motor functions on the front burner.  Face it, you've been sitting on your ass, barely moving with the exception of the occasional reach for a beverage, for the last three hours.  Your fingers are flying and pretty much have a mind of their own at this point.  You start to trust that they are doing what you want, not what they are used to.  Mistakes happen.  And chances are they happen more frequently the more you write and more creative you are.


I'm NOT Hemmingway!  Stop IT!!!!

The next major pet peeve I have with my network of writing friends is their conceptions of what rules are rules instead of guidelines and their attempts at nudging me to conform to the format they (and most) expect me to follow.  Again... I should "know better" right?  This is wrinkling my brain.  I do understand the "rules" as many would call them: Don't change perspective mid chapter.  Don't give multiple points of view.  Have a narrator.  These are things that go beyond "voice" which every author has.  This is entering territory of "style."  Authors tend to choose to write in first person or third person, etc...  Really, a lot of the voice and style you choose is going to reflect upon what demographic of readers you're going for.  

The group I like to write for?  Movie goers.  Let's face it.  There are large groups of people out there that just do not care to read.  They don't have the time, or ...well, whatever excuse they choose to hide behind.  Truth is, for many, they find reading to be pretentious.  It kind of circles back to the whole, patronize people as idiots they will believe they are.  And reading is for "smart people."  And attempts at reading books like Twilight or Harry Potter only opens the door to ridicule as well.  Again, I'm going to ask what you're trying to accomplish here?  Would you rather this demographic of non-readers pick up a story that is designed to entertain that could serve as a gateway or stepping stone to other books, or would you rather they go back to the latest episode of Jersey Shore?  BACK OFF, They're READING at least!  You're hurting the very cause you're pretending to support.  







Before I side track off on THAT tangent, bringing the point of this section back into focus, I am not Hemingway.  The world already has a Hemingway.  And if people want to read his style, they will pick up one of his books, not mine.  I have no reason to imitate what he did.  Or Chaucer, or Steinbeck, for that matter.  The scenes in my books play out like TV and movies.  You follow one character until another comes into the room, the original character leaves, and now its the new character's story.  Every chapter an episode.  Every scene a set stage.  Is it going to make it harder to get noticed by a major publisher?  Absolutely.  Will I possibly never be rich since I'm trying to attempt the impossible and appeal to the people who have given up ambitions of reading?  Thanks for reminding me.  Is what I do fulfilling and important to me?  Damn straight.


But it's working.  The most frequent compliment I hear from my readers is "I don't usually like reading but I like your stuff for some reason.  I don't know why."  It could be because I'm not getting overly snobbish about the "rules" of writing, relaxing and just letting my reader enjoy the story.  I'm putting more energy into the plot and characters than I am imitating which authors used what devices and tricks.  Now there's nothing wrong with following the "rules" really.  I'm not going to say you shouldn't.  By all means, go for it if that's your style.  Just don't get snobbish with me, or others for that matter, and presume you know more about writing than I just because I've chosen to deviate.  In my case, at very least, it was a conscious choice.  I know my reasons even if you don't and I shouldn't have to explain them to you.




In conclusion, I'm going to wrap this up by my pointing out/overstating the theme of this piece.  If you're going to help, help in a gentle fashion.  Thankfully I've sorted out which of my writer friends can give me useful feedback without being pushy or condescending.  Do not try and act like you are the gods' gift to intelligence.  Stop being snobbish about writing and editing.  Stop complaining that people are dumb and don't read anymore, and then intimidate people for trying to read and write.  Remember that Facebook statuses are not crafted with intention of rank on the New York Times Bestsellers list.  Doing these things make you about as useful as the skinny bitch at the gym that snickers and makes the heavy girls too self conscious to show up to their workout class, and then complains about how many fat people there are in the world.  This isn't putting you on display as intelligent, only a bully.

A DROP IN THE BUCKET ….LIST

I’m gearing up for a post about a couple of rather ironic, and altogether stressful experience I’ve had in the past week.  As I’ll need a few days to calm down still, I thought I would put this out there in the meantime, and I'm going to need all of your help.

I like to live life to the fullest.  I believe there is so much to learn in life, and I want at least a pinch of everything.  One of my earliest lessons learned was, life is short.  There is a lot to do, and little time to do it.  I had a few wasted years that I should have been going to museums and camping under the stars.  I don’t ever want to sit in idle again.

So in the last couple of years, I’ve made some adjustments.  I made a visit to the Museum of Science and Industry and the Chicago Art Museum and the Milwaukee Art Museum.  I’ve gone to pumpkin patches and corn mazes, rode hayrides, gone camping.    I took a trip to Norway, and hopped on a plain to Miami by myself for little to no reason.  I went to an outdoor showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show.  I’ve had a couple of leads in plays.  I went back to school, won writing awards, and successfully earned my place on the dean’s list.  …But it’s not enough.  And that’s where all of YOU come in.

Credit for this idea goes part in partial to a friend who has recently been sharing their own bucket list.  (A respectably lengthy list of equally respectable goals.)  I decided to put my own twist on the idea of a bucket list, and that is to open it to the floor, so to speak.  You, whether friend or stranger, are welcomed to comment on this post, and add things to a rough draft of my bucket list.  All ideas are welcomed, whether it be “find true love,” “visit Montana,” or “participate in a zombie walk.”  Add things whether you think I’ve done them already or not.  I could surprise you.  For example, few people know that I’ve never been to a comicon.  Be creative.  Be bold.  Have fun!

Happy suggesting!  : )

ADVENTURES AT RANDOM

I’ve realized I haven’t put up a post like this in a while.  Maybe things finally calmed down enough in my life.  Maybe I’ve been too focused on more serious aspects.  Maybe a lot of things.  But this is one of those posts I originally envisioned for this blog.  Random stuff that leaves you scratching your head thinking, “how did that just happen?” whether good or bad.  And the last couple of weeks, I’ve had my fill.

Father’s Day

My stepfather is a great guy.  No, not perfect, but a genuinely kind and generous individual.  He may not have always known what to do with a little girl in tow.  He was more accustomed to baseball than Barbie.  …but then again…  so was I.  And if anything, that may have only made him all the more confused and uncomfortable.  Things have not always run smoothly between he and I.  In fact, there were moments that our relationship had bumps a Zamboni couldn’t iron out.  Like when my mother told me that he was angry with me for going to live with my grandparents for a while, “abandoning” the family after the car accident.  That he helped raise his siblings after his father died during his teens, and he expected me to do the same.  It took a couple of years before I wised up enough to realize my stepfather NEVER would have wished that responsibility on anyone, let alone his daughter.  In reality it was mother saying this, while pretending to be a ventriloquist.  I was not as wise then as I am now.

So, my dad?  Very friendly, patient man.  My mom?  Not so much.  And it takes a GREAT deal of energy for me to tolerate her.  I rarely make any kind of in-person appearances anymore, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I can’t do it by myself sometimes.  So this father’s day, when my phone rang begging me to join the “family gathering,” I enlisted the help of a friend to accompany me to help keep me…  let’s just say “even-tempered.”  My mom tends to be better behaved when there’s a new face in the room, and distracted from saying or doing other things that tend to annoy us all.

This I knew would be the best gift I could give to my dad for Father’s Day.  This, is why I know he likes the rare occasions when I visit.  I serve as a distraction for my mother, so he isn’t hounded by her CONSTANT nagging and demands.  This, was possibly the only reason I mustered the strength to make an appearance at all.  For his sake.  It was Father’s Day after all.

My friend Nando would be entering, what I’ve likely given him the impression of as ground zero, for the first time.  Not many of my friends are allowed to meet my family anymore.  And often enough, those who do, are usually only introduced so that they may have a better understanding of things I’ve described from my childhood.  And thus the adventures ensued.  Actually, the day went rather well.  Rather strange, and tense at moments while Nando is a teacher, and my mother supports Walker.  …she also says she supports unions, which should illustrate plenty without me having to spell it out for you.  But the piece-de-resistance of the evening was when my dad put the food on the table, and we all started to dig in to the bounty of grilled meats.  (I never fully understood why I grew up to be such a carnivore until sitting down to this food and realizing an odd disappointment that there were no side dishes.  Just brats, chicken, hotdogs, and sausages.  I had not only grown to appreciate veggies in the last decade, but also miss their presence?)  Anyhow, back to dinner conversation, a smattering of polite compliments towards my dad’s grilling expertise issued around the table.  And moments later out of nowhere.

“Remember that Mother’s Day when I packed up the boys, and left you behind?”  My mother blurted out.

I couldn’t do much more than stop chewing for a second.  Give a short, “Yup.”  And hope to the Gods that she drop it.  But I felt that old inspiration for a nervous tic to develop.  You know, that cinematic eye twitch that allows an audience to grasp a character’s utter befuddlement.  REALLY?  You want to bring up my abandonment issues in front of the entire dinner table, including a friend of mine you never met before, and your visiting stepson that has NO knowledge of this history?  ON Father’s Day, you want to talk about how you left your husband on a Mother’s Day?  And abandoned me in the driveway when I asked where you were going?

“I shouldn’t have done that, I guess.”  My mother continued, completely oblivious to her own impropriety.  “I probably should have taken you with me.  But you wouldn’t have come anyway.”

Um, NO.  You shouldn’t have left your husband on Mother’s Day, period, is what you shouldn’t have done.  *Nervous eye twitch…  “Great brats dad…”  Though I wanted to follow that with, “do you have any alcohol in the house?”  But thankfully she dropped it from there.

A Day For Me.

I’ve been working on the text book for the professor, as well the illustrations for it, (as I have officially landed the contract now.  I LOVE what I’m doing.  Setting my own hours.  Working from home.  ….working from home.  ….hrmm…

There is some good and bad to be said about this.  The good is: No gas spent.  Make my own hours.  No one looking over my shoulder.  Take breaks whenever I need.  And the best of all, I can work in my underwear if I so feel the urge.  And don’t think I haven’t from time to time.  The downside…  I may not leave my apartment for days on end.  My whole world tends to be restricted to white walls and brown carpet.  Add a little stress over finances to this equation, and I get overwhelmed and need to bust out.

So, I called up that same friend mentioned from earlier, Nando, to see if a movie was possible, and the whirlwind of adventure to follow was amazing!

First it was to a quick bite to eat before seeing a movie.  This was uneventful, at best.  It was kinda crappy food, and overpriced as such, in my opinion.  But between this and the theater, I made a motion for getting some candy at the store.  We had some time to kill, and so sue me, I don’t have the cash to buy all my concessions at the theater.  (I do buy my beverage there.  I know they make the most profit from soda sales.)  Stopping at the local Walmart was where the real adventure began.  Pulling into our space, we noticed several tents and trucks set up in front of the store.  There was also a large fireworks tent at the front of the parking lot, so realizing this had to be something different, our curiosities peaked.  Then I saw one last addition. 

WACKY WAVING INFLATABLE ARM FLAILING ….Spider-MAN???

That’s right.  Spider-man.

A promotional stunt coupled between Walmart and Sony for a big push on both the movie about to release this summer, and the new video game that will release as well.  The video game, I had low expectations for when first learning of it.  Despite the fact that Bruce Campbell does a great deal of voice acting for the game.  …Let’s face it, the last few Marvel Comics based video games haven’t been,  “super” (pardon the pun.)  We approached the tents inquisitively, and were met with extreme welcome.  Rice Krispie Treats, Cheese Nips, Little topple guys…  There was SO much free stuff, and it was all shoved at us saying, “Please take more, we have truckloads of this stuff we need to get rid of.”  And yet somehow all I could bring myself to take was a couple of Rice Krispie Treats.  And then I hear, “Also there’s a couple of game consoles over there, if you’re gamers.  If you can beat the demo, you can win the Spiderman Mask that’s on the table.”

Challenge accepted.

Mission Accomplished!

I love this mask!  …okay, so I’m a big kid.  But whatever.  If you really want to make fun of me for it I will make it easier on you and confess that I was coincidentally wearing my Spiderman underwear that day too.

I remember once upon a time having a conversation with a friend where I confessed that I didn’t feel like I was as geeky as everyone thought.  I wasn’t afraid of being thought of as a geek.  To the contrary I feel that’s an honorable position in society.  Quite the opposite, I felt like a poser.  Like people were going to catch on that I didn’t know nearly as much about comics and things as they suspected I did.  My friend just blinked at me and responded somewhere along the lines of, “Nnnnnooo….  I don’t think so.  You’re pretty GD geeky.”  It still took me a year or two to trust I could hold my own around other geek circles though.  Problem is, whether you acknowledge it or not, geek circles can be DAMN territorial.  As if always guarded against infiltrators.  They will test you, throwing out random bits of trivia, seeing if you can keep up.  Are you truly one of them?  Or are you actually one of the jocks that used to pick on them in high school?  Or are you the dumb girl, that can tell you the name of every boy band member, but who’s favorite comic book character is “x-man.”  And if you don’t know what a D-20 is, chances are, you’ll be run out of the shop, chased down by replica Lord of the Rings swords.  *Mint in box!

And that last paragraph?  Had so many geeky references in it, I dare you to find them all.  ; )  But don’t worry, I won’t chase you off if you didn’t catch it all.

Off to BRAVE the movie theater.

Pixar’s name shouldn’t have been put on this film.  We all know that certain flair that Pixar has to its storytelling.  It is the original voice, when we no longer thought original voices were possibly left.  We also know the feel of Disney’s storytelling.  I’m not saying one is better than the other.  Just different.  Personally I appreciate both styles respectively.  Perhaps it’s because Pixar has never really gone with a “princess” storyline before.  This is obviously much more a Disney trait.  This is also what makes me laugh a little because Disney worked SOOOO hard on getting its hands on names like Pixar and Marvel with the intentions of “butching up” its image.  It needed to better grab the male demographic and all those dollars they carry along with it.  …And then it does THIS?  Fems up the pixar aspect?

Now yes, the character Merida, is a strong independent type of typical ideal female role model.  Who as a result of which becomes a whiney brat.  Until lessons are learned and blah blah….  I’m not going to give a full review.  Because on the whole, I really did enjoy the film.  It had a good deal of humor.  Billy Connolly was hilarious.  The triplet brothers were fantastic comic relief.  But there just wasn’t much… originality.  No memorable lines to take away.  Chances are if I say, “Fish are friends, not food” or “Shark Bait! Hoo-rah-rah!” you know that’s Finding Nemo.  Or “Hi, my name is Dug, I just met you, and I love you.  SQUIRREL!” you’re ready to jump out of your seat and answer, “UP!”  And of course who could forget… “The cla-a-a-a-a-aw!  OOOOoooooooooh!”  So on the whole, it was a good movie.  And there were parts at which I was bouncing in my seat for the excitement of it.  The 3-D was expertly executed and the adventure was on par.  My only recommendation is, go in expecting Disney, not Pixar.

On To Conquer Lands

After the movie, it was time to head off to the comic book store with Nando to play a round of Game Of Thrones.  I haven’t gotten much chance at playing many games like this.  Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE them.  But the problem is this.  Either I end up playing with a group where the guys can’t play so much as hit on me.  (*Gasp!  Here we get rare footage of the mythed female geek, entering the herd of gamers!—Next on National Geographic!)  …Actually one of our conversations during the game DID go something to this effect.  But, no…  I don’t like playing in a group where it’s implied I’M the prize.  Playing with girls is fun…  But I don’t have any female friends in this area that like to play.  …Not enough, by far, anyway.  And every other opportunity I’ve had to play…  well, that’s usually been with guys I actually WAS dating, and it was dictated as “Boys Night.”  …No girls allowed.  ….*really?

I suppose this pisses me off more than I’ve ever let on.  I mean, I COMPLETELY understand the guys needing to be guys and have a night away from the “women” folk.  …but can’t there be the occasional game set up where everyone is welcome, in addition to “boys night?”  Must I be excluded from ALL games? Either being a female means I’m welcomed in overenthusiastically, or banished to the outlands.  I suppose the reason it really gets under my skin is because the message I’ve been sent with this hot cold reception I have personally experienced is, “female gamers are more than welcome, but only if we all have a chance at sleeping with you.” ….I guess in the end, it just shows how much those former romantic interests to exclude me from the activities I love were beneath my efforts. 

So, this is why I like this group of gamers.  This is why I like hanging out with Nando.  It has become a rare thing indeed for me to find a male friend that includes me in the geeky activities I adore without doing so just in attempts to try and date me.  In fact, Nando is the only one that doesn’t give ANY kind of pressure towards the “romantic” and just lets me be me.  And don’t get me wrong, because I admire any time a person works up the courage to show someone they may care for more than friendship to ANYONE…  But chances are, and I know this is hypocritical but, if I didn’t give you some clue that I’d be interested back?  You likely just threw our entire friendship out the window.  NOPE, sorry.  Can’t go anywhere with you anymore without me panicking that you’re trying to date me without officially dating me.  I refuse to give false hope a chance to grow.  But I refuse to rant anymore on that front.  I’ll save that for my next post, when I decide to rant about some of the wholly inappropriate communications recently delved out to me.

For now, I will just cap this post off with my pitiful notion of possibly entertaining the idea of hosting a game night once a week.  Of course this will dictate that I will have to break my rule of how many people will be allowed to know where I currently reside.  …Not sure if I’m ready for that and it will take some meditation.  But as the comic shop I’ve been enjoying is closing, something must be done.  Best I can say for now is…  we’ll see?

I HATE BLANK PAGES

I’ve been trying to write an installment to my blog for a while.  But I keep ending up with yet another blank page before me.  It’s odd, because A LOT has happened in my life recently, and yet I can’t seem to write any of it down.  My instincts are, as usual to wax philosophical about romance and love, but when I begin to give in to those urges this installment seems to want to turn to wax pedantic  …and then wax profane.  : /

Then I hit the backspace, and stare once more at the blank page.

So, let’s skip all that and just focus on some of the "positive," shall we?  Maybe we’ll circle back around to the relationship bits someday, and how I’m still in love with someone from my distant past who, honestly doesn’t even exist anymore.  A short summary would be my new and difficult resolution to look forward to romance, (not backwards.)  But for now, I just can’t handle putting pronouns and adjectives much further than that to what it is I want to express.    And I am determined to move on.  …always moving on.  Right.  Let’s, shall we?

A NEW JOB

Or three.  It’s kinda funny, but, I was REALLY looking forward to May.  I was getting all geared up for it thinking, THIS TIME I’m going to be ready!  THIS TIME I’ll embrace the good things and not worry about the world crashing around my ears.  …And then, nothing.  I got to May, and my new place, and nothing really changed.  And we’ll get to the other bits in the next section, but here we’re talking about work.

So, forgive me for saying so but, I don’t WANT to go back to work.  I mean, I’m not lazy.  I’m not.  I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.  But doing the heavy-lifting awful-hours type of jobs I’ve always had?  Give me a break.  You wouldn’t want to go back either.  I’ve done these jobs my whole life thus far, and put plain and simple… They wear me out.  Body and soul.  Especially soul.  If I had to describe how I feel about some of the things I’ve had to do day in and day out in the past, it honestly wouldn’t be that far of a stretch to say: it’s like being forced to club puppies to death eight hours a day—just a little more of me died inside with each swing of the… clock's pendulum.  A gory analogy, I know, but effective.

So, when I started applying around town I couldn’t bring myself to feel much enthusiasm for ANY of it.  And most places I was applying weren’t hiring currently, but promised to “keep me on file.”  Yeah.  Remind me to hold my breath.  But I did have one resource I’ve never had before.  The university’s job placement website for alumni and students.  And once I figured out how to use the damn thing…  I got call after call.  THREE of which looked extremely promising and THREE of which I was excited for.

The First Job: was an assistant to a professor.  I thought originally that the job was doing not much more than data entry and making rubrics.  No big deal right?  And not something I was leaping for joy over, but excited in a different way, yes.  I mean…  How good will it look on future applications, especially within the school system, if I can land this?  So I kept fingers crossed, and after some communication was assigned a time for an interview.  And at said interview I was told that she had scheduled three other interviews that day and saved me last for a reason.  “On paper,” she said, “you’re exactly what I’m looking for.”  She said she could see my talent for writing, even in the short emails we sent to each other, and THAT’S what she needs.  I was scratching my head.  Again, I thought this was a data entry position.

It turns out that the professor is writing a book.  A series of health related plays/skits for youngsters.  She needs someone to help organize, do a little copy editing kind of work, and so on.  I also get to play a bunch of educational video games and enter descriptions and hyperlinks for each.  And since then the job has evolved.  I’m now writing the prologue to the book and may have some graphic artist work coming my way associated with it as well.  Now how good is THAT going to look on a resume!!!!  My first real writing job!  My excitement level went through the roof!

The Second Job:  Was for a small business downtown.  I have friends that used to sing its praises once upon a time.  A little coffee shop that they said felt like home.  And when I got my interview I could understand why.  It is a LOVELY little establishment.  Art on the walls, and just plain friendly nature.  The job was for prepping and decorating donuts and pastries.  An early morning thing.  …I’m not a morning person, but I know I’m good at this, need the money, and doing this for a small business will be MUCH more rewarding than for a conglomerate tyrant like Walmart.  So, I kept the interview.  The writing job is on a contract basis where I make my own hours and have 100 hours to distribute however I see fit through the summer.  I can do both with ease!  …but when I got to my interview, I found out that they had hired someone the day before I sent my email.  (And they said they were kicking themselves for it.)  Again, I was told that on paper I’m perfect.

This is two days in a row I’ve been told this.  What the hell happened?  How did I go from being told by Walmart everyday that I’m “replaceable” to this “rock star” status!?  They looked over my portfolio and they DEFFINITELY want me!  …So, it isn’t much for hours.  Just one day a week actually.  But it’s all I need.  And I can’t wait to learn all there is to learn under this FANTASTIC decorator I will be working under.  Between the writing and the cake decorating, I should have enough to get by for the summer.

The Third Job:  Isn’t until Fall.  And I’m very hopeful for it as well.  I don’t see getting turned down for it.  It’s a tutoring position through the school.  One on One tutoring.  Which I have experience in, going back to the fifth grade, as well as helping my brothers with their home schooling, and teaching private art lessons in homes.  Like I said, I’m hopeful.

So that’s that.  What May failed to bring, June saw through.  On the career front at least.  And that’s enough for the moment.


OLD FRIENDS

I’ve been living a bit of the noir life lately.  Or that’s the way of my brain finding some levity to the situation.  A closet full of fedoras, a fridge with little else in it but booze, a dying plant on the kitchen table, and stacks of papers in the living room.  (Okay so the bottles of booze are really old because of how LITTLE I drink, and the stacks are notebooks that I’ve been hard at work writing my novels, but still effective to my illustration.)  I have an empty apartment.  No friends.  No family.  No pets.  …and I’m oddly okay with it.  My friend Nando comes over to hang now and then, and that’s cool.  But other than that, I’m quite alright with being by myself now.  Wasn’t what I was expecting…  but oddly okay with it.  I just wish I had cable for some background noise.  Silence can drive you a little nutty at times.  Especially when you can hear every whisper uttered in the parking lot.  (I’m looking at you, neighbors.)  *eye narrowing.  No seriously, don’t air your personal business out in the parking lot.  I don’t want to hear the drunk ramblings anymore.  > : (

In the last couple of months I think I’ve figured out some of the balance to friends.  And I’ve not reversed my position from the Ohio trip.  Sorry.  That SOOO proved to me that I can’t deal with people in copious masses (especially if they’re taking themselves WAY too seriously.)  It was a bad trip, and that’s the end of it.  But in the last couple of weeks, I’ve also had a good trip.  …Well, as good as it gets under the circumstances.  (Honestly, people in my life need to stop having bad luck and start having good health.)  But it was a road trip with friends to see other friends, and it was a good time catching up and recalling old times.  And in my time there, I realized something strange.

They say children and animals will speak truths.  And I believe “they.”

Once upon a time, I recall going to a coffee house, and a little girl, barely walking age, stumbled past my table.  The mother called out to her several times to come back, but she turned around, looked at her mother, looked at me, and then staggered to my leg and looked to her mother as if to say, “Nah, I’m good.”  Or the time, while walking past a service counter at work, a child in a cart behind her mother reached out to me wanting me to pick her up as I passed.  Random fun little encounters with children and animals that they seemed to want to be near me.  …That changed in my rather bitter past year or so.  That didn’t happen anymore.  Not only did children no longer seem drawn to me, but they actually seemed to not like me much when forced to be.  I couldn’t blame them.  Like I said, I didn’t really want anyone getting close to me, and children are going to pick up on that energy more easily than adults.

But on this trip, something seemed a bit more back to my variation of “normal.”  I had a day with a couple of “little” ones.  One, a baby, not yet walking, who decided that falling asleep in my arms was as comfy a place as any.  Another… maybe eight now, who used to cuddle up with me back when he was merely a toddler, (but doesn’t remember me,) decided that sitting practically on my lap to play computer games with me was a good use of his time.  Not to mention the two new kittens to the household, one of which claimed my knee as its ideal spot for rest nearly any time I sat down.

So…  It’s a positive side I suppose.  I may not have many people in my life anymore.  I may not be trying to fix that necessarily, and am just enjoying the peace and quiet.  But at least I’m not pushing people away either.  It’s a small and strange improvement arriving at the balance I think I need for now.


NOW HERE I AM, staring at the rest of this blank page.  A million words wanting to continue to spill forth.  But as I said at the beginning…  Just can’t do it right now.  Maybe sometime soon.  For now, I suppose this is as good a place as any to end this post.  Happy summer, everyone.  See you soon.

TRIP

I’m in Ohio for a tournament this week.  It was a long drive, followed by long days, and long nights.  Filling the time has been with stories.  Stories like how it wasn’t until after I was 5 or 6 years old that my mother would let me play with other kids.  So, I did what any child would do.  I used my imagination.  It was just a silly and laughable story about how the red fire-hydrant in front of our apartment was my friend.  I told a couple of people about how it and I would spend hours playing ice-cream-parlor.  And how I would be called in, if a neighbor kid came out to see what I was doing.  …This, has been a long trip.

There seem to be a million synonyms for that word, “trip.”  Journey.  Stumble.  Falter.  Set Back.  Hallucinate, as in “trip out” or “bad trip.”  This…  has certainly been a bad trip.  And one that has really instilled the knowledge in me, that I will NOT be repeating such a trip again.  There will be NO amount of begging that could EVER be successful in convincing me to do this another year.

Being a nontraditional student is not the most pleasant of experiences as it is.  There is this odd balance to be found of who you are supposed to view as your peers.  Are you supposed to consider those your age your peers?  Meaning your professors?  (especially when you have had friends for YEARS whom happen to also be professors.)  Or do you consider your classmates peers?  Who are ten years, or more, younger than you?  You tend to get looks of “Act more mature,” from the professors, when you spark a report with the one demographic, and then contradicting looks of, “why aren’t you bonding with the rest of the ‘kids,’” if you don’t.  You are supposed to “set an example” in how to behave, and yet, you are treated as if you are an ignorant child in almost every simplistic task before you.  And the “kids” look at you like you have this odd pocket sized handbook for life because you’re older.  There is a generation gap somewhere that just can’t be erased.  You do not belong to either party.

Being thirty in this environment isn’t easy.  And yes, I’ve smiled, and put on false “happy” tones here and there.  And yes I AM happy to be back at school, and that it’s been successful.   And NO I don’t like when 19 or 20 year olds bark orders at me…  or when I have to adjust to close quarters with a bunch of people who all have very different habits and consider your habits to be the most strange or inconvenient.

So here I am, thirty years old.  In my pajamas.  In a strange town.  Sitting on the floor, in a hallway of a hotel, while drunk men keep walking past me the way to their rooms.  Typing away, because it is apparently the only place that my keyboard clicking won’t annoy others.

I’ve…  I’m not sure what to do anymore.

I lost a friend this last week.  …not really sure what happened.  Last year, I was told “You’re too negative.”  I was told I was bringing people down.  Apparently my failing health, financial difficulties, and having a slew of people I knew die—was too much for several of my friends to deal with.  So they walked.  Including this particular friend for a while.  Which I don’t understand because, other than facebook…  I don’t tend to open up to people on an emotionally connected level very often.  Sure I tell stories but can’t do much else.  They’re just stories.  You won’t see the pain behind them.  …but I was too negative.  So I made some adjustments.  I tried to make sure to post good things.  REALLY GOOD things as often as possible.  And at least I would post them alongside the bad posts, if there had to be bad posts.  And I was recently told those SAME people that exiled me for being a “downer” are now envious of my “good fortune.”  What a confusing place to be…  What a confusing reason to lose friends.

I’ve been seeing a councilor, as mentioned in previous posts—through the school—to work through some of my issues on opening up to people.  You see, it was thought that maybe the reason I have such trouble with relationships in general, whether romantic or platonic, is that I hold everyone at arm’s length.  How can’t I?  I get shunned for telling people if I’m depressed, I get jealous reactions if I’m not…  GOD I miss that fire-hydrant.  But I’ve made some progress in my sessions.  Oodles.  Hell I even let myself CRY INFRONT OF MY COUCILOR LAST WEEK!!!!  (*insert gasp of shock here!)  THIS is how difficult it is.  After MONTHS of therapy, I still can barely cry in a safe environment in front of a person who is PAID to make people feel comfortable with crying?  How stupid is that?

So, tonight…  after having two days worth of time for some harsher circumstances to build up…  like my left side not working and having a literal “trip” getting out of the shower.  After feeling I’m here, but not really “involved” or really that wanted/welcome… feeling I’m consistently hindering others, where they can eat, when they can sleep, how they behave…  I’m just done with the whole experience.  In the words of Danny Glover, “I’m getting to old for this shit.”  Because tonight, I read something that just drove an extra nail through my heart.  Something that is only going to make the rest of this trip all the harder.  And I can’t say what it is, because, well I just can’t.  It’s too personal.  All I can say is after having read it… I want to cry until my eyes bleed.

So here I am, pouring this out to the great void of space that is the internet.  Because…  it’s that shiny new make-believe friend.  Because in the words of my grandmother, “No one wants to hear the bad stuff,” and I’m “ugly when I cry.”  Because, as it turns out, no one wants to hear the good stuff either.  All these months of working with a councilor to convince myself that it’s possible for me to open up to people and let those barriers down.  That there’s hope for me to be able to share a living space with someone again someday…  gone.  I can’t even survive ONE WEEKEND sharing a hotel room with others.  Getting married again?  Ha!  And the only person I could remotely open up to about ANY of it, my friends and teammates banished me to a hallway in order to be able to type out my conversation to.

It’s past 4 in the morning, and the birds are waking up outside the windows, while I’m sitting with a numb left side as payment to the hard floor.  But I can’t sleep.  And maybe tomorrow I will be fine.  Maybe next week I’ll find some stupid sliver of hope to make a connection with flesh and blood again, that I failed to squash out tonight.  But for now…  In this moment, how I feel?  I have no desire to make new friends anymore.  I don’t want to date anyone or try my hand at romance.  I’m slipping back to just wanting to move in to my own place, finish my degree, and be left alone.  This whole concept of making friends in real life is just…  I don’t understand people.  Fire-hydrants were far less complicated.

HOLIDAY CURSES.

I have this odd little quirk, where holidays and special occasions tend to not bode well for me.  I don’t know what strange twist of karma has deemed it so that I have this streak of bad luck on such days, but this Easter has struck me with yet another kidney stone.  (New Year’s Day, was the last time I was honored with the presence of one.)  And though there are moments reminiscent of Jim Carrey’s bathroom scene in Liar Liar, inspiring me to yell “Owie!,” truthfully, I’ve had worse Easter Sundays.  I’m writing this blog as a method of distraction by way of concentrating on more positive things.  And a hell of a lot has happened.

MOVING ON

Or…  just moving.  :D  I’m getting my own place.  Come May, I’ll have my very own 2 bedroom place!  I’ll have so much room I won’t know what to do with myself!  I don’t think I can accurately express my excitement over this.  I already have big plans for decorating, displaying my geek paraphernalia, and hosting movie nights, amongst other things.

I want to say, straight off, that I’ve had little reason to complain about my most recent roommate experience.  In fact, I love my current roommate.  We get along just fine.  But this is the first time I’ve TRULY been comfortable with a roommate.  And through various other shared living space experiences, I’ve developed a list of the things I’m looking forward to.

The first and foremost being CLEAN!  No dishes sitting in the sink, or piles of random crap littered about the living room or on the kitchen table.  No potato chip crumbs left on the floor to be ground into the carpet, or sugar on floors and counters.  (Which oddly enough, the sugar thing, has happened repeatedly with MULTIPLE roommate pairings.)  Point is, I can invite company over, whenever I want without being embarrassed for how my home is presented.  Which leads me to my next point.

The second thing I’m looking forward to?  Company.  I can invite people over, without having to check with anyone, or feel guilty about me and my friends using the living room/tv.  If I have a friend that I feel comfortable with just entering the apt without knocking, I can allow that.  When we do use the living room my friends and I won’t have to sit on the floor because all of the other seats are taken.  No one will make rules about who I can have over, when, and what we’re allowed to do or not.  (<- - see college experience #1 for that one.)

Three?  Life Uncensored!  Modesty be damned.  I like being able to walk from my bedroom to my bathroom nekked if I so feel.  I like being able to make a late night snack, or watch tv, topless if the mood so strikes me.  Sure, it isn’t that big of a deal to throw on a robe when living with someone.  I have a small collection of robes going at this point.  But when it comes to those warm summer nights when you want to sleep with the bedroom door open to create a cross breeze through the apartment, or those winter nights when flu season is in full swing and there isn’t time for a robe as you make a mad dash to the toilet?  I think you catch my drift.  There are just those random occasions when being alone has its advantages to wardrobe and modesty.

Four…  Dating.  I know that sounds AWEFULLY contradictory with my last post.  And believe me, there’s no one I’m currently interested in.  Or interested in me, (aside from a handful of creepy assholes.)  But I’m going to play the “what if” card here.  And I’m going to try and play it while keeping perspective.  Because despite how I try…   I suppose I do kinda want some romance in my life.  I’ve just…  I don’t know.  Saying I’ve given up seems too pessimistic a statement.  And I’m not going to go into a rant in this paragraph to try and figure it out.  Bottom line would be, if someone DOES come into my life, I want a safe and relaxed place for us to spend time together, watch movies, have dinner.  A place in which all of my previous 3 points would apply once more.  I don’t want to have to feel awkward about asking roommates for space just to get some cuddle time in.  I don’t want to be embarrassed by mess or concern myself with privacy.

Five.  I can finally have things the way I want them.  My dishes, and silverware, matching and complete.  My shelves full of books, in which ever room I like.  My furniture, and my blankets.  My everything.

OTHER GOOD NEWS: in abundance

It would seem I’m on a fast track of academic success.  A few months back, I received an email from one of my professors from first semester.  She was impressed with a piece I wrote for her class so much that she had decided to nominate me for the Superior Writer’s Award through the university.  Last week, I received contact that not only did I win, but I won FIRST PLACE for my category.  There will be an awards ceremony on Thursday in which I will be presented with an award and a short commentary will be given about me and my writing.

Next up?  I receive another email, not one week later, telling me that I am in the top 15% of my class.  That I will be receiving invitation to some honor’s society something or other, and congratulating me on my hard efforts.

To add to that, next week I will be travelling to Ohio, as I’ve made it to Nationals for competitive speech in the poetry category.  (Fingers crossed on this final competition of the year.)

HEALTH WEALTH AND WEATHER

So, I guess it’s been a pretty good past bit.  Kidney stones or no, I’ve had some success health wise.  Since my little cancer scare last fall, my doctor has been pretty active with watching the details of my health.  And after a cholesterol screening, I was put on a rather strict temporary diet for 3 months (which will end in may.)

Altogether, since starting this diet, I will admit I do feel healthier.  There are days when the problems I have with my left side are barely noticeable or even nonexistent.  I’ve lost a bit of weight, and I’ve started a new exercise routine to help that continue.  But it hasn’t been easy.  Healthy food can be expensive, and I’m currently unemployed and stressing some over that.  Some may ask what happened at this point as you know I recently had an acting gig going.  In short?  I didn’t like how I would witness the owner act one way to peoples’ faces, and another behind their backs.  I didn’t like that I’ve invested a TON of money in my costume and multiple tanks of gas, but only made 50 bucks so far after HOURS upon HOURS of work.  So I told them where to shove it.  I don’t need that stress.  (Especially after a line was dropped to the cast that there are “30 people willing to take your roles.”  Which is some Walmart fear tactic BS.)  So I told them where to figuratively shove it.  But I'm doing just fine financially all the same.  I have enough to last me until finding a job closer to home so long as I watch things closely.

What really makes the diet difficult is the weather.  DEAR GOD!  This weather has been…  nothing short of paradise.  To hear air conditioners running in MARCH in Wisconsin is CRAZY.  To see your facebook newsfeed flood with pictures and statements from friends on Saint Patrick’s Day about sunburns is all the more insane!  To hear the sizzle of brats on the frat boys’ grills and smell bacon cheeseburgers wafting through the windows, when you can only have whole grains and vegetables?  TORTURE!  The good news is, my diet should end mid May.  And though I will continue to watch my cholesterol, it will be a much less strict diet.  Just in time for summer and my new apartment, which will be celebrated, perhaps, with a night of fondue and wine.  (YOU try living in Wisconsin and being told you can’t have cheese!) 

Anyway.  I’m looking forward to May.  REALLY looking forward to it.  The new AVENGERS movie will be out.  I will have successfully finished my first year of college, and I will have my own new place.  If only to round up a few friends, for some horseback riding and other frivolous ventures, it promises to be a very good summer indeed.

Holiday luck be damned.

ALL I REALLY WANT

I’ve had a few busy days here and there.  Take a couple Wednesdays ago for example.  I got all of my banking/401K settled, paperwork for new accounts finalized,  frequent flyer miles reported, taxes filed...  I revised an assignment that I did last semester that apparently impressed my professor enough at the time that I’m being nominated for the “Superior Writer” departmental award.  (I’m a little excited about that.)  And even got to a coffee shop to do a little of my own writing.  This was all in one day.  Yay for me!

But not everything has been all sunshine and lollipops.  In fact, if you ever hear me utter that (or similar) phrase, you would do well to remain aware of my biting sarcasm.  So…  Here’s the skinny.  I had a little bit of heartbreak as of recently.  No one’s fault but my own, and I mean that.  I saw the red flags, and I ignored them against better judgment.  It’s not the first time I’ve let myself want something I knew I shouldn’t be wanting, and not the first time someone decided they didn’t want me…  or the second… or third…  But regardless, just a bit of bad luck, right?  The thing that caught me off guard was how rattled I ended up by it in the long run.  And by rattled, I suppose I mean saddened.  Not that it’s anything I won’t get over.  Not that it’s by any means the worst I’ve been through.  Not by far.

I guess I’m just mad at myself for allowing it to get to that point in the first place.  But what makes this more complicated?  My battle with REpression.  Through the years, I’ve had some pretty crappy things happen.  Most of the stories I tell are finished with a joke, a laugh, and a brush off of “that’s life” and “que serra…”  But this has caused some difficulties.  All those utterances and denials of things actually bothering me have caused me to repress.  And A LOT of those bizarre, once forgotten, memories have been bubbling out in very inconvenient spurts recently.  Sometimes, I’ll be sitting in class and suddenly have to wipe away tears, praying no one sees.  (I tend to want to hit something when others see me cry and there have been few over the years I’m comfortable with seeing me have such a show of emotion.)  Or driving down the road, trying to catch my breath because I suddenly find myself bawling.  …stupid memories.  But point is, I’m trying REALLY hard to not fall into a habit of repression.  I don’t need to put emotions on layaway.  Or at very least, I shouldn’t be doing that.  I should be dealing with emotions as they come like a healthy person.  …I’ve picked a HELL of a time to stop repressing.  Part of getting out of that habit is forcing myself to not say things like, “oh well” and pretend that I go unaffected.  It is unfortunate that I can’t completely hide my feelings on this particular matter (the bit of heartbreak), as I don’t want anyone to feel guilty (and they shouldn’t).  But I guess part of my process of moving on is going to have to be not pretending that I’m happy about it.

Some Amateur “Professional Help”.

When I started to notice odd clips of memories surfacing, and strange things upsetting me from decades ago, I decided that since I have free counseling services through the school, why not take advantage of them?  It could be helpful to me, as well as give the graduate students that run these sessions as a form of "internship," a chance to meet with someone that has more to say than "homework is stressful."  And yes that's an exaggeration, and I'm not saying that problems of the typical college-aged student are to be belittled.  I've seen some rather...  HARD life experiences in EVERY age group.  I'm just willing to bet most of the councilors don't have many divorced 20 year olds walking through their door.

I started sessions that are more to do with working through some past issues on the subject of family and residual fears left over from my former marriage than anything.  But, I guess there is an end game in sight to it all.  And that is, my inability to trust, or let walls come down, and the not wanting to want a relationship with ANYONE.  How I try and convince myself that it's something I don't want.  How I fight it, tooth and nail, and then usually just end up hurt anyway.  How it’s become my increasing concern that many of the problems I’ve encountered within relationships are spurred from my own reactions and fear of a situation evolving into a relationship.  …am I getting to complex here?  Nevermind.  Let’s just move on, shall we?

A couple sessions ago, it was requested of me that I write down all of the things I would desire in a relationship.  …There’s a problem with that assignment.  Psychologists shouldn’t see psychologists.  And I, unfortunately have been studying the science of psychology for far too long…  So I understood what underlying factors the therapist was going to be looking for in my answers.  What different answers would indicate.  (And that makes it harder to be completely honest or not cater to what they are looking at.)  But I forced myself to begrudgingly play along.  By time I was half way through my list I felt like Sandra Bullock’s character in Practical Magic.

I started to wonder if half of the things I was writing down were impossible.  That if I wasn’t making a list that could never be fulfilled, just so I could have an excuse.  And if someone came along that fit…  would I just tell him it wasn’t real and run again?

So what was on this magical list?  Sorry, the specifics I’ll keep to myself for now.  If you want an idea you can listen to this while you read the rest…

This song used to speak to me on quite the deep level.  Still does I suppose.  But it’s been refreshed…  Why?  Because that song reminds me of someone.  Someone I’ve tried to avoid.  Someone I cut from my life.  Someone that’s been REALLY mean to me…  And someone I’ll never be completely over.  Someone I would give ANYTHING to be over.  Someone that was part and partial to my reasons for getting the hell out of Dodge, er….  Lake Geneva.  It’s no secret that it’s easier to get over someone if they aren’t popping up on your facebook news feed every ten minutes, or hanging at the same haunts as you and around the same friends as you.  Distance can make the heart grow colder.  And I needed to put a fair amount between he and I.  I deleted lines of contact, I stopped going places I might bump into him, and I moved.  Abolishing repression be damned, there are some things you just need to handle in smaller doses.

And last week, this person, intruded upon my life once more.

Chance Encounters?

Just ONE week after my freshly broken heart, 5 days to be specific, I found myself sitting at a coffee shop for a business meeting for an upcoming new acting gig.  And who should walk in?

I was okay with it at first.  I looked at it as a test.  The last time I knew I had to see this person I had a panic attack.  So here was my chance to face some things.  And after all, it was just one conversation.  One little random coincidental meeting at a coffee shop.  And three hours of conversation later... didn’t do much harm or good.  It just “was.”  Except…   Except for one little pebble of information stumbled upon.  It had come to light that this person is looking at a job.  Not just any job.  A job in my field of interest.  In my new little corner of Wisconsin.  And then questions began about what rent was like in that area, if I “don’t mind the question, of course.”

Do I mind the question?  No.  Of course not.  Do I mind you considering moving to my new town?  After all I have done to get away from you?  After all the distance I purposely have been putting between us?  I haven’t seen you with the exception of three or four times in the last year, have hardly said “hi” and “bye” on those occasions, and you pop into my life talking my ear off only a week after my heart is broken?  REALLY!?  And you’re going to tell me you’re moving to my new town almost an hour away?  And then hug me goodbye as if we're close friends again?

So, what am I supposed to think?  Chalk it up to coincidence?  To fate?  That this person and I have been crossing paths since we were children?  Is it time to admit that we just have too much in common to trust that we can avoid each other?

All I know is I’m tired.  And now that I’m committed to a four year school…  if he decides to move here, going into the same field that I am…  I guess I’m going to have to get comfortable with him being around.  …and his little girlfriend too.  ...Or switch schools, and put a greater distance between us, which I'm not opposed to.  (I really liked Miami, and the University down there wouldn't be a terrible transfer.)

Again.  It doesn’t bother me when a man decides to not want me.  But being reminded of the fact day in and out…  is a little more distressing.  I don’t need to constantly bump into people that have rejected me, making old wounds fresh every time.

But I’m keeping faith that someday… SOMEDAY, my prince will come. 

….

………..

……………..

And I’ll probably push him off his horse and ride far enough away where I can at last be alone in peace.

In the meantime, let's look at a prime example of the "princes" that are actually out there, shall we?  The following is a unaltered "conversation" I had online last week.

""

Mystery man #1: Hi

Mystery man #1: How R doing

               

Mystery man #1: Ur look sexy

Me after 3 DAYS of ignoring these messages:  I "R" doing fine. And thank "UR" for thinking that I'm sexy. But if being honest, I'm too old for you, and prefer to chat with someone that can utilize proper vocabulary and grammar. Intelligence is a priority.

               

Mystery man #1:  I like u  ""

........Quality stuff, guys.  Quality stuff.  And people wonder why I prefer to be alone?
All I really want?  Is some peace, man.