My eyes, my body, my flesh scream : Sleep, sleep, SLEEP!
But my spirit, my mind, my heart every sense is wide awake screaming : live, dream, do, write, write, WRITE!
About what I am supposed to write, I honestly have no idea. Must something be crushingly profound in order to be turned into script? Must I have something life changing to say for my words to be worth reading?
Why must man find parallels in most writing he reads? He picks up a novel and starts to read, something that is so far-fetched from his own life, he still can pick apart and apply to him. A man can read these simple words I have here — strange words, words that mean something only to me and apply to a life that only I know about, yet every word is picked apart and analyzed like DNA by a geneticist. Does a man do this because he is selfish? Everything must in some way be related to him? Or is it simply a manner in which to become more invested in the novel or the piece of reading? A way to feel more involved, a way to get the characters to really mean something to the reader?
Whatever it is, I am not to be analyzed. You will find no hidden meanings in what I say, because I say what I mean and I mean what I say. I have been raw for quite some time now, and it has been a beautiful feeling. But if taking my words and applying them to yourself makes you feel better, then do it. If it makes you more involved in my literature, then do it.
I have seen God in my life so much lately.
I slipped for quite some time. I was on a downward spiral, and felt like I had no way out. Every way I looked in my life, it was dark. I could not see the light at the end of the tunnel, in fact, I felt as if I were traveling away from the light. There was no OK part of my life to focus on — everything was in shambles. My friends, my relationships, my finances, my mental well-being, my physical well-being, my motivation, my school, my life was very dark and I continued to think I could fix everything myself. I continued to think that I alone could just wake up one day, make a to-do list, and fix everything in one clean sweep. And my oh my did I try to do that. I tried to heal my heart after Mexico, I tried to heal my heart after being used and stomped on by nearly all of the people I considered "best friend", I tried to change myself, I tried to get out of my depression alone, I tried to fill this hole in my heart with stupid male attention and frivolous meaningless items. Everything failed. I still felt empty, I still felt hurt, I felt abandoned and like I had no place left to go. I felt like everyone I had been there for had left me and that no one cared. I felt like I had been so strong for so many people and had helped so many others through the stormy periods in their lives — so where were they now when IIII needed help? No where near me. In fact, instead of being my friends, they were stabbing me and hurting me even more.
And about 4-6 week ago, I broke down. I sobbed. I lay on the floor for an hour and I sobbed and cried and prayed. I was SICK of that rut. I was sick of trying to fix all of my problems alone, I was sick of filling the hole in my heart with all of these different guys attention and all of the superficiality, one of the few things this world has to offer.
And God answered my prayer in so many ways. Since July, I have become an entirely new person. I have a new heart, a new soul and a new calling — a new purpose — a new reason to live. I realize what is truly important to me... and it's nothing that anyone would expect and it's nothing that most people could ever fully understand.
I no longer feel wounded or hurt about so many things. I have learned to forgive those who have hurt me, without them ever even apologizing. I have learned to see the beauty in every little thing, and I have learned to be thankful just for even being alive.
There is beauty and joy in every moment of my life, even the sad moments. God is working, I am excited, and I cannot wait to see where his intended journey for my life takes me.
18.12.08
9.12.08
Mrzzzzzzzl
A dimly lit street, she walked alone. In realistic terms of the word, she did appear quite desperately alone to onlookers. A loner — a peculiar, yet sweet and innocent old woman living in quiet solitude. But behind that mask of loneliness, and even beyond that soft, pale skin, was a young girl illuminated and full of life.
The sound of her heels on the freezing road, echoing in the falling night, took her back to the cobblestone streets of her youth, back to the house on Shmireh Drive, and then back to ... that ... and back to ... him ... No, her mind must not linger there for too long. She'd crunched it up inside of her heart and kept it there for 50 years, why let it come out now?
She pulled her shawl tightly about her bony shoulders as an Eastern wind blew frigid air into her eyes, making them water and freeze the moment they caressed her face. Perhaps if she had been like Betsy and started going to the gym when she was more nimble, the walk toward her apartment with groceries in hand would not be the struggle it was proving to be in this moment.
Her footsteps fell into a rhythm, creating an eerie symphony with the blowing wind, creaking trees and the slow, light drizzle of precipitation. Step, creak, roar, drizzle, step, creak, roar, drizzle, it continued for quite some time, for her house was located miles away from normal civilization, step, creak, roar, drizzle, step, creak, roar, drizzle... but the rhythm broke. Her foot could not gain traction on the drizzle which had begun to ice over the cement. She slid backwards in one slow, graceful, movement with her back arched and her shawl still scarcely attached by one end blowing like a kite behind her.
She lay face up on the wet cement, not quite sure if she were really still alive, and quite positive that if she were still alive, gaining the strength to levitate would prove to be a nearly impossible task. Instead of crying out for help to the empty streets, praying that there would be some other soul wandering around at such an absurd hour, she took to simply lying there.
The orange sky and eerie winds were like a book she knew by heart, she could read them so easily. But this was something he had taught her to do in their sacred nights together many moons before. She became angry that even 50 years later, she could still be constantly reminded of something so beautiful, yet so cruel and heartbreaking, so many times in a short day.
She lay there for what could have been hours. Had she wanted to pull herself together and walk home, she probably could have at this point, but there was something in that night air calling her to stay. What a fool she would have looked were anyone to pass her by.
She scooted her fragile frame to a warmer corner near an abandoned building. Her shawl became a blanket and the bag of rice from her grocery sack, a pillow. She had been right about the orange sky. The slush soon turned to beautiful thick snow — the kind of snow that stuck to everything like perfect pieces of nature's grand puzzle. She was feeling sad and nostalgic, but could not keep from smiling at the beauty before her and the precious memories flashing through her mind like an old slide show.
------------
Just got a little inspired to do some creative writing this evening... not really sure where I am going with this... already a little bored with it... not really sure what all the major aspects are behind this elderly woman and her lingering memories.
Suggestions? :)
The sound of her heels on the freezing road, echoing in the falling night, took her back to the cobblestone streets of her youth, back to the house on Shmireh Drive, and then back to ... that ... and back to ... him ... No, her mind must not linger there for too long. She'd crunched it up inside of her heart and kept it there for 50 years, why let it come out now?
She pulled her shawl tightly about her bony shoulders as an Eastern wind blew frigid air into her eyes, making them water and freeze the moment they caressed her face. Perhaps if she had been like Betsy and started going to the gym when she was more nimble, the walk toward her apartment with groceries in hand would not be the struggle it was proving to be in this moment.
Her footsteps fell into a rhythm, creating an eerie symphony with the blowing wind, creaking trees and the slow, light drizzle of precipitation. Step, creak, roar, drizzle, step, creak, roar, drizzle, it continued for quite some time, for her house was located miles away from normal civilization, step, creak, roar, drizzle, step, creak, roar, drizzle... but the rhythm broke. Her foot could not gain traction on the drizzle which had begun to ice over the cement. She slid backwards in one slow, graceful, movement with her back arched and her shawl still scarcely attached by one end blowing like a kite behind her.
She lay face up on the wet cement, not quite sure if she were really still alive, and quite positive that if she were still alive, gaining the strength to levitate would prove to be a nearly impossible task. Instead of crying out for help to the empty streets, praying that there would be some other soul wandering around at such an absurd hour, she took to simply lying there.
The orange sky and eerie winds were like a book she knew by heart, she could read them so easily. But this was something he had taught her to do in their sacred nights together many moons before. She became angry that even 50 years later, she could still be constantly reminded of something so beautiful, yet so cruel and heartbreaking, so many times in a short day.
She lay there for what could have been hours. Had she wanted to pull herself together and walk home, she probably could have at this point, but there was something in that night air calling her to stay. What a fool she would have looked were anyone to pass her by.
She scooted her fragile frame to a warmer corner near an abandoned building. Her shawl became a blanket and the bag of rice from her grocery sack, a pillow. She had been right about the orange sky. The slush soon turned to beautiful thick snow — the kind of snow that stuck to everything like perfect pieces of nature's grand puzzle. She was feeling sad and nostalgic, but could not keep from smiling at the beauty before her and the precious memories flashing through her mind like an old slide show.
------------
Just got a little inspired to do some creative writing this evening... not really sure where I am going with this... already a little bored with it... not really sure what all the major aspects are behind this elderly woman and her lingering memories.
Suggestions? :)
6.12.08
Luminescence
In this fuzzy eyed world, she came to me. My heart was pounding, my fists were clenched, a deep inexplicable anger welled up inside of me as she walked towards me and asked me if I was Erika.
But her words hit like sweet honey, and began to slowly melt away my anger. We walked and talked slowly, not sure what to say to the other — not sure why SHE was the one who had to come for me.
Two strangers brought together by one terrible thing.
When I arrived at my new home, I was still confused as to how all of this had happened. How I was going to live with these two people. How I was going to watch love unfold in front of me. I had hated without knowing why. I had loved without knowing why. Each of them, and now here I was.
As the days in this hazy land continued, I was unsure of what to do with myself. I had thought someone else would be my savior (I had someone very specific in mind), but every time, no, there she was. With a hand outstretched. Part of me still wanted to hate her, but another HUGE part of me wanted to explore her, to know her, to see everything beautiful she had to offer and to see what made her something I could never be.
One night I did something terrible to her. Why I did it, I don't know. It wasn't physical harm, I didn't say anything to her, but it's what I didn't say, and it is what my actions said more than anything. I tried to steal the most precious thing in her life away from her... and I almost did. Ultimately, she won, and that is the way it was supposed to be.
Instead of shunning me, instead of hating me as she should have, she accepted me. She wanted to still be my friend, she wanted to understand my pain. And the next morning, when I awoke feeling alone and ashamed, she was waiting for me. I walked downstairs to see her standing in the door way, a heated summer breeze blew her golden locks around her crystal sea green eyes and the sun almost eerily shone on her dress making it translucent and casting soft, beautiful shadows on the wooden walls of the room.
She beckoned for me to come, and I did, although I could not understand why she could smile at me or love me after what I had done. For so long I thought she had been the one doing wrong, but the more I thought about it, the more I really looked at what I was doing, the more I realized I was completely wrong. I was terrible, I was awful and she forgave me without me even asking.
I began to cry and tell her all of this; she wiped my tears and smiled at me and told me it was ok, that I should stop this, and that we should be grateful for and enjoy our friendship and not fuss over the small things.
But this did not seem like such a small thing, but to her it was. To her, the value of friendship and forgiveness meant more to her than this sin, this crime. She saw the beauty in the dirt, and she picked me out of it and still held on to me. She considered me precious, and I considered her the same.
But her words hit like sweet honey, and began to slowly melt away my anger. We walked and talked slowly, not sure what to say to the other — not sure why SHE was the one who had to come for me.
Two strangers brought together by one terrible thing.
When I arrived at my new home, I was still confused as to how all of this had happened. How I was going to live with these two people. How I was going to watch love unfold in front of me. I had hated without knowing why. I had loved without knowing why. Each of them, and now here I was.
As the days in this hazy land continued, I was unsure of what to do with myself. I had thought someone else would be my savior (I had someone very specific in mind), but every time, no, there she was. With a hand outstretched. Part of me still wanted to hate her, but another HUGE part of me wanted to explore her, to know her, to see everything beautiful she had to offer and to see what made her something I could never be.
One night I did something terrible to her. Why I did it, I don't know. It wasn't physical harm, I didn't say anything to her, but it's what I didn't say, and it is what my actions said more than anything. I tried to steal the most precious thing in her life away from her... and I almost did. Ultimately, she won, and that is the way it was supposed to be.
Instead of shunning me, instead of hating me as she should have, she accepted me. She wanted to still be my friend, she wanted to understand my pain. And the next morning, when I awoke feeling alone and ashamed, she was waiting for me. I walked downstairs to see her standing in the door way, a heated summer breeze blew her golden locks around her crystal sea green eyes and the sun almost eerily shone on her dress making it translucent and casting soft, beautiful shadows on the wooden walls of the room.
She beckoned for me to come, and I did, although I could not understand why she could smile at me or love me after what I had done. For so long I thought she had been the one doing wrong, but the more I thought about it, the more I really looked at what I was doing, the more I realized I was completely wrong. I was terrible, I was awful and she forgave me without me even asking.
I began to cry and tell her all of this; she wiped my tears and smiled at me and told me it was ok, that I should stop this, and that we should be grateful for and enjoy our friendship and not fuss over the small things.
But this did not seem like such a small thing, but to her it was. To her, the value of friendship and forgiveness meant more to her than this sin, this crime. She saw the beauty in the dirt, and she picked me out of it and still held on to me. She considered me precious, and I considered her the same.
28.11.08
Lazarus and the Lizard
One foot in front of the other. Pound the rubber track until your feet burn and throb. One foot in front of the other, keep going until you can't breathe. Shed the pounds, build the muscle, one foot in front of the other quickly — faster now, don't waste your time here.
I was at the gym because I have veered from the healthier lifestyle I had last (school) year — I used to cook nearly every meal for myself, and at least get to the gym two times a week. This year, I got way too caught up in everything — eating out way too much and I hadn't been to the gym once this year up until a few days ago. I have now been going every day and spending a couple of hours. And each day I have noticed this same girl.
She is a very beautiful girl with bright blonde hair and these fierce brown eyes — eyes that say, "Don't f*** around with me, I mean business." But upon further inspection, I have realized that maybe these eyes are saying something else. I think they are scared. I think the girl behind those eyes is trying far too hard to reach a level of beauty that the world presses her to achieve — something that she doesn't realize she already has inside if she just got off the treadmill and showed it.
Every day I walk up those stairs to begin my stretches and she is already there — face slightly red and that fierce determined look on her face. As I stretch, she is running — so quickly that every time I feel she will have to collapse soon. But she continues onward! As I move to my cardio — elliptical and treadmill — she continues to run, then move to the elliptical with me. I do the elliptical for 45 minutes, she does it for an hour. I move on to lift weights for another hour. This entire time, she is still working on her cardio — her skinny legs looking as though they might break at any moment. So frail looking, yet the spirit driving her seems to scream strong and determined. When I finish with my weights and wrap up after about 2 hours and 15 minutes in the gym, she is just beginning her weight lifting routine. I continue to the locker room to enjoy the steam rooms, sauna, showers, hot tub, etc — all pleasant rewards for the rather long intense workout. But she never enters the locker room while I relax. Ever. She must still be upstairs working out. My guess is 4 hours a day.
And today while pounding my elliptical and reading a book about the beauty of women entitled, "Captivating" (thanks, Rachael!) I looked around me... and I saw this skinny girl who seemed to be addicted to working out. I continued to look around and all I saw was a mass of fake people swarming and sweating around me — people who are always there doing the same thing — all watching the same things on TV. There are 12 TVs at my gym, nearly all of them tuned into TLC's, "What Not to Wear" or E!'s "Girl's Next Door" I saw a woman in her mid-40s reading a beauty magazine, she was infatuated with an article detailing special creams proven to hide your age and smooth your wrinkles. Some of the guys seemed busy to impress with their 3940832904832094 pound weights and watching shows about the stock market or reading the New York Times as they pressed their brand new fresh white Nikes onto the machine.
And as I took all of this in, while reading my book, I became almost ill about what society has amounted to, and partly what I myself had amounted to.
Yes, of course, going to the gym is a good thing — living a healthy balanced lifestyle is so important. But these people were all obsessed with things that in the end will not matter. And not just the people at the gym, people everywhere in life. Not just stupid Americans! In many countries now, I feel as if I see this happening. The "American Dream" has caught on, but it has taken a turn for the worse.
The American Dream originally meant so many beautiful things: being able to work from the bottom up and create a beautiful life for your family with honest hard work, being able to do what you love without being judged and with the possibility of a practical income, freedom to be any religion and freedom to speak. Freedom to love and laugh and dream and prosper — the freedom to show the true beauty inside of us and offer it to the world without judgment being cast.
But what has happened?! This idea of beauty is gone, no one stops to see the beauty in anything. In the book I am reading, it makes the reader stop and take time to think about the fact that not everything has to have a function, sometimes things really are just here to be beautiful and we need to stop looking at the function of everything and focus more so on the beauty of things - not just outside, but in.
Instead of this, I see nearly everyone — my family, my friends, mere people on the street — making decisions that lead them to a perhaps financially comfortable lifestyles but nothing more.
Where has the joie de vivre gone? Where has the love for adventure and the pursuit of dreams over the pursuit of financial stability been lost? Why has the love for outward beauty overshadowed the deep need for inner beauty? To be truly outwardly beautiful, it must be an accurate reflection of the inside. And recently, I have not seen much of this at all.
It seems that none of my friends have been very happy lately. It seems that as we get older, we wonder why we are here and why we are living? And then we start doing things that society tells us to do or what we think we must do to be higher on the ladder of social statuses... or what we must do just because of all we have accomplished so far.
At the end of your life — does all of that really matter?! Does your grade in Organic Chemistry matter? Does the amount of money you made and the car you drove matter? Do the awesome clothes and your big plastic surgery boobs matter? What you ate and where you slept? No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! Above all else, what holds most importance is living the life that makes you truly happy. STOP thinking about societal expectations. STOP thinking about what is going to get you that trophy husband/wife. STOP thinking about money and STOP thinking about what other people will think of you if you pursue the innermost desires of your heart and soul and embark on an adventure! Your entire life should be an adventure. Not something that you wake up every morning and dread because of the tasks that lay before you.
Do them if need be, but realize they don't matter, so don't do them with such bitterness. They do not do not do not matter unless they are tasks that relate to your well-being, tasks that provide another part of the adventure — something to add a twist in the plot to the book of your life.
I used to think I would try to be the editor of a magazine, or a columnist for a newspaper, or a photographer for National Geographic or something really lame like that. Admirable goals, sure, all things I am good at, sure, but all of them require something I do not have, which is a desire to spend 1/2 of my life doing shit that I hate to work my way to the top. I can write in my stupid blog when I feel like writing. If I want to write a book at some point in my life — absolutely nothing is stopping me. If I want to capture the beauty of the world in photographs, I can do that, I don't have to my photos of my words published anywhere to be happy about what I have done and accomplished with them.
Instead of deciding right now on some career that I could work my ass off for and do and make a lot of money and rarely see my family or just simply not be happy... I have decided to choose the life of adventure.
So what if I go into debt. So what if I have no idea what my next move is. So what if I possibly fail one of my classes. So what that some of my friends have chosen to desert me? So what that I will be away from my "home" for 1.5 years? I am pursuing my real dream, and I never know what is going to come next, and for that I am so grateful and excited.
I am happy that I am not you. I am happy that I am not stuck making a butt load of money doing something I am so unsure of and stuck in a place I am unsure of being for the rest of my life with a person I am unsure of being with for the rest of my life.
But then again, there's still hope for most. You probably are not really stuck. If you want to breathe, if you want to really live, if you want to stretch out and feel the world around you and discover the beauty in life still available to you and located everywhere, you can. Take a chance. LOVE who you want to LOVE. Show them. BE you want to BE. LIVE where you want to LIVE. LIVE HOW you want to LIVE. BE SCARED! BE EXCITED. BREATHE IN AND TAKE IT ALL IN. Do something no one would expect. Do something that quakes and shakes the barrier of normalcy in society. In fact, break it, break the barrier with a shout of joy and pursue the real you.
Honestly, it's scary. I am scared shitless, but I have never been happier or more excited in my entire life — and it's all because I am letting God lead my adventure and not worry about where I go.
I do realize I just used shit and God in the same sentence. Sorry, GOOODDDDdDD but U FEEL ME, YESSSH?!?!?!
I was at the gym because I have veered from the healthier lifestyle I had last (school) year — I used to cook nearly every meal for myself, and at least get to the gym two times a week. This year, I got way too caught up in everything — eating out way too much and I hadn't been to the gym once this year up until a few days ago. I have now been going every day and spending a couple of hours. And each day I have noticed this same girl.
She is a very beautiful girl with bright blonde hair and these fierce brown eyes — eyes that say, "Don't f*** around with me, I mean business." But upon further inspection, I have realized that maybe these eyes are saying something else. I think they are scared. I think the girl behind those eyes is trying far too hard to reach a level of beauty that the world presses her to achieve — something that she doesn't realize she already has inside if she just got off the treadmill and showed it.
Every day I walk up those stairs to begin my stretches and she is already there — face slightly red and that fierce determined look on her face. As I stretch, she is running — so quickly that every time I feel she will have to collapse soon. But she continues onward! As I move to my cardio — elliptical and treadmill — she continues to run, then move to the elliptical with me. I do the elliptical for 45 minutes, she does it for an hour. I move on to lift weights for another hour. This entire time, she is still working on her cardio — her skinny legs looking as though they might break at any moment. So frail looking, yet the spirit driving her seems to scream strong and determined. When I finish with my weights and wrap up after about 2 hours and 15 minutes in the gym, she is just beginning her weight lifting routine. I continue to the locker room to enjoy the steam rooms, sauna, showers, hot tub, etc — all pleasant rewards for the rather long intense workout. But she never enters the locker room while I relax. Ever. She must still be upstairs working out. My guess is 4 hours a day.
And today while pounding my elliptical and reading a book about the beauty of women entitled, "Captivating" (thanks, Rachael!) I looked around me... and I saw this skinny girl who seemed to be addicted to working out. I continued to look around and all I saw was a mass of fake people swarming and sweating around me — people who are always there doing the same thing — all watching the same things on TV. There are 12 TVs at my gym, nearly all of them tuned into TLC's, "What Not to Wear" or E!'s "Girl's Next Door" I saw a woman in her mid-40s reading a beauty magazine, she was infatuated with an article detailing special creams proven to hide your age and smooth your wrinkles. Some of the guys seemed busy to impress with their 3940832904832094 pound weights and watching shows about the stock market or reading the New York Times as they pressed their brand new fresh white Nikes onto the machine.
And as I took all of this in, while reading my book, I became almost ill about what society has amounted to, and partly what I myself had amounted to.
Yes, of course, going to the gym is a good thing — living a healthy balanced lifestyle is so important. But these people were all obsessed with things that in the end will not matter. And not just the people at the gym, people everywhere in life. Not just stupid Americans! In many countries now, I feel as if I see this happening. The "American Dream" has caught on, but it has taken a turn for the worse.
The American Dream originally meant so many beautiful things: being able to work from the bottom up and create a beautiful life for your family with honest hard work, being able to do what you love without being judged and with the possibility of a practical income, freedom to be any religion and freedom to speak. Freedom to love and laugh and dream and prosper — the freedom to show the true beauty inside of us and offer it to the world without judgment being cast.
But what has happened?! This idea of beauty is gone, no one stops to see the beauty in anything. In the book I am reading, it makes the reader stop and take time to think about the fact that not everything has to have a function, sometimes things really are just here to be beautiful and we need to stop looking at the function of everything and focus more so on the beauty of things - not just outside, but in.
Instead of this, I see nearly everyone — my family, my friends, mere people on the street — making decisions that lead them to a perhaps financially comfortable lifestyles but nothing more.
Where has the joie de vivre gone? Where has the love for adventure and the pursuit of dreams over the pursuit of financial stability been lost? Why has the love for outward beauty overshadowed the deep need for inner beauty? To be truly outwardly beautiful, it must be an accurate reflection of the inside. And recently, I have not seen much of this at all.
It seems that none of my friends have been very happy lately. It seems that as we get older, we wonder why we are here and why we are living? And then we start doing things that society tells us to do or what we think we must do to be higher on the ladder of social statuses... or what we must do just because of all we have accomplished so far.
At the end of your life — does all of that really matter?! Does your grade in Organic Chemistry matter? Does the amount of money you made and the car you drove matter? Do the awesome clothes and your big plastic surgery boobs matter? What you ate and where you slept? No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! Above all else, what holds most importance is living the life that makes you truly happy. STOP thinking about societal expectations. STOP thinking about what is going to get you that trophy husband/wife. STOP thinking about money and STOP thinking about what other people will think of you if you pursue the innermost desires of your heart and soul and embark on an adventure! Your entire life should be an adventure. Not something that you wake up every morning and dread because of the tasks that lay before you.
Do them if need be, but realize they don't matter, so don't do them with such bitterness. They do not do not do not matter unless they are tasks that relate to your well-being, tasks that provide another part of the adventure — something to add a twist in the plot to the book of your life.
I used to think I would try to be the editor of a magazine, or a columnist for a newspaper, or a photographer for National Geographic or something really lame like that. Admirable goals, sure, all things I am good at, sure, but all of them require something I do not have, which is a desire to spend 1/2 of my life doing shit that I hate to work my way to the top. I can write in my stupid blog when I feel like writing. If I want to write a book at some point in my life — absolutely nothing is stopping me. If I want to capture the beauty of the world in photographs, I can do that, I don't have to my photos of my words published anywhere to be happy about what I have done and accomplished with them.
Instead of deciding right now on some career that I could work my ass off for and do and make a lot of money and rarely see my family or just simply not be happy... I have decided to choose the life of adventure.
So what if I go into debt. So what if I have no idea what my next move is. So what if I possibly fail one of my classes. So what that some of my friends have chosen to desert me? So what that I will be away from my "home" for 1.5 years? I am pursuing my real dream, and I never know what is going to come next, and for that I am so grateful and excited.
I am happy that I am not you. I am happy that I am not stuck making a butt load of money doing something I am so unsure of and stuck in a place I am unsure of being for the rest of my life with a person I am unsure of being with for the rest of my life.
But then again, there's still hope for most. You probably are not really stuck. If you want to breathe, if you want to really live, if you want to stretch out and feel the world around you and discover the beauty in life still available to you and located everywhere, you can. Take a chance. LOVE who you want to LOVE. Show them. BE you want to BE. LIVE where you want to LIVE. LIVE HOW you want to LIVE. BE SCARED! BE EXCITED. BREATHE IN AND TAKE IT ALL IN. Do something no one would expect. Do something that quakes and shakes the barrier of normalcy in society. In fact, break it, break the barrier with a shout of joy and pursue the real you.
Honestly, it's scary. I am scared shitless, but I have never been happier or more excited in my entire life — and it's all because I am letting God lead my adventure and not worry about where I go.
I do realize I just used shit and God in the same sentence. Sorry, GOOODDDDdDD but U FEEL ME, YESSSH?!?!?!
24.11.08
What a Realization
Life is so weird to me. I realized that I have been a complete idiot for the past few months. I have been depressed and upset and whining about life. Sure, they are some pretty enormous things I am dealing with, but how I was I unable to see all of the positive in my life, too?
So, I have decided I have to write 10 positive posts in here before I am allowed to write anything negative. No matter how upset I get about something — I am sick of you guys all probably thinking that I am some depressed crazy lady. :)
I have a lot of good things coming up in my life and I cannot wait to share all of them in here and change myself a little bit, too.
Ready?
So, I have decided I have to write 10 positive posts in here before I am allowed to write anything negative. No matter how upset I get about something — I am sick of you guys all probably thinking that I am some depressed crazy lady. :)
I have a lot of good things coming up in my life and I cannot wait to share all of them in here and change myself a little bit, too.
Ready?
20.11.08
Black room black blackness
I wrote this tonight...inspired by my drive from Omaha to Lincoln tonight...it's possibly the very beginning of a very long short story. I'm not sure if I want to develop it anymore into the idea that I have for it... which involved her taking a cross-country journey through her life and coming to some strange philosophical realizations... hmm... we weill see.
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As she looked around her, she saw nothing. It was as if she were blind, and almost as if she had never known the joy of sight. She felt around in the dark for something — anything at all to clasp onto — but what she felt was just as empty as what she saw. She sat down, hopeless; she wanted to cry. She was overwhelmed by her life’s journey thus far and was almost ready to end it. She didn’t feel like the carefree joyous girl she once was, and that hurt almost more than the fact that she had been hurt by so many other people and events in her life… the fact that she had experienced so much and always been able to keep a hold of herself even in the toughest of times made her hate herself for losing herself during these tough times.
She sat and thought about you, and you, and you, and that death and this death, and this rape, and that abuse, and this mistake and that mistake, this hurt and that hurt and this hurt and that hurt and the list did not seem to end. And just as she was about to completely lose all hope and give up and just lie in that cold, black room for an eternity waiting for something to happen… a thought came to her. And as that thought came to her, she began to see the stars in the sky. Lit one by one like an old set of Christmas lights slowly flickering and every single one eventually finding the energy to light the entire string and brighten the night sky.
And as each one of those stars flickered and new ones slowly came to sight, she noticed the waxing crescent moon in the north sky. She saw the Big Dipper and Orion’s Belt and for the first time in so long; she had an inexplicable feeling — something that tingled every bone of her body telling her to GO. Soon, she realized the ground she was sitting upon was not wooden boards, but a road, and the room she thought she was stuck in was not a room at all, but wide open earth.
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As she looked around her, she saw nothing. It was as if she were blind, and almost as if she had never known the joy of sight. She felt around in the dark for something — anything at all to clasp onto — but what she felt was just as empty as what she saw. She sat down, hopeless; she wanted to cry. She was overwhelmed by her life’s journey thus far and was almost ready to end it. She didn’t feel like the carefree joyous girl she once was, and that hurt almost more than the fact that she had been hurt by so many other people and events in her life… the fact that she had experienced so much and always been able to keep a hold of herself even in the toughest of times made her hate herself for losing herself during these tough times.
She sat and thought about you, and you, and you, and that death and this death, and this rape, and that abuse, and this mistake and that mistake, this hurt and that hurt and this hurt and that hurt and the list did not seem to end. And just as she was about to completely lose all hope and give up and just lie in that cold, black room for an eternity waiting for something to happen… a thought came to her. And as that thought came to her, she began to see the stars in the sky. Lit one by one like an old set of Christmas lights slowly flickering and every single one eventually finding the energy to light the entire string and brighten the night sky.
And as each one of those stars flickered and new ones slowly came to sight, she noticed the waxing crescent moon in the north sky. She saw the Big Dipper and Orion’s Belt and for the first time in so long; she had an inexplicable feeling — something that tingled every bone of her body telling her to GO. Soon, she realized the ground she was sitting upon was not wooden boards, but a road, and the room she thought she was stuck in was not a room at all, but wide open earth.
17.11.08
Abandoning Abandonment
I had to write a fictional short story for my English class modeled after one of the short stories we read in class. I chose to model my story after "The Jilting of Granny Weatherall"...about an old lady lying on her death bead and all the senile strange things going through her head until she finally (maybe?) dies. My story is probably the dumbest thing in the entire world...and as EMO as it is...I kind of laugh when I read it. Have fun.
Abandoning Abandonment
(Modeled after the Jilting of Granny Weatherall)
She lies down on the bed staring at the empty pill bottle — the contents of which were now being released into her blood stream. She could not believe what she had just done. But then again, she could not believe what he had done to her, nor could she believe that it had happened so long ago, yet the depression of it all made her unwilling to live. Before she had chosen to end her life, she was already lifeless for quite some time. She tried to bounce back and recover from the sudden abandonment that came right after she had just given birth to their second child, but she simply could not.
Her entire life was a story of abandonment. Like a slow motion film stream, she sees her mother’s taillights leaving the driveway for the last time — leaving her to raise her two brothers and three sisters — and then she sees him. The first person she ever fully trusted again, and the last person she ever thought would jilt her like that. Things were starting to get fuzzy though. Maybe he wasn’t really gone. Maybe this is him walking into the room right now. Who could be disturbing her peace? She wanted to die in peace — no interruptions. Raising children as a child and then growing up to raise more children made her prone to constant interruptions. This was her time, finally, couldn’t everyone leave her in peace during her final moments?
“Oh my, God. Mom, what have you done? Oh my, God, Claire, call an ambulance! Mom! Mom! Can you hear me? What were you thinking? Oh my, God, how could you do this to us? We need you!”
“Now you tell me that you need me…couldn’t be bothered to say that as I went unnoticed all of these years washing your clothes, doing your dishes, curling your hair, making you dinner, helping you with homework, driving you to your 500 activities…now you will see what it is like to do those things for yourself.”
Violet didn’t say anything. Had she heard her? Was she really that out of it? Was her death really coming this quickly?
“Oh, Mom. You are moaning. I can’t understand you! Stay with me. I’ll stay here and hold your hand the whole time. You’re going to be ok.”
“You’re hands are cold, Violet, you got that bad circulation from your goddamn father. Or was it Lenny? Where is Lenny? If anyone is in here with me it should be Lenny or Claire, even Joad would be better than this, although Joad contracted the grippe a few days ago and hasn’t fully recovered right? Violet, if you insist on all of this fuss, at least get Claire or Lenny in here.”
Again Violet said nothing. But that was Violet for you. She was either as quiet as a mouse, or saying things that pierced your heart like a thorny branch. Were there show tunes playing downstairs? What was all that racket? Could they not see she was trying to die in peace!
“Claire, make them all go away! Just let me be.”
“This is Violet. Do you want Claire here, Mom? Oh, I knew you always loved her more. But, Mom, sometimes…be sensible. I can’t understand…saying…mumbling. Stay…I…take care…you.”
Was this it? Had she really chosen to end her life? Everything was starting to become more distant, but she could still feel a hand on her…and now she realizes what those noises were…the ambulance, the ambulance was here to try to revive her. No, no, no. A herd of men stampeded into the room like mad elephants.
“No! Leave me! I’m fine. It’s all better this way.”
She picked up her arms to flail them in disapproval of being placed onto a stretcher, but they stayed limp at her side. It was hard to believe that these strong arms that had been constantly forced to work for 45 years were now incapable of moving the one time she really wanted them to. The only other time these arms had disappointed her was when they would not move to beat the shit out of Monroe when he embarrassed her and abandoned her in front of the children the perfect gift on their 35th anniversary — which he had forgotten, and for which she had saved up and bought him the car of his dreams — a suped-up red Cadillac straight out of a 1950s movie.
Where was she now? Was she floating? She thought perhaps this was part of her descent into heaven. What a relief, she was so prepared to die and see her Heavenly Father waiting for her behind those pearly gates.
“Mom! Don’t leave me!”
Now she knew where she was. That was undeniably sweet little Claire’s voice and she was strapped to a wooden bed and being carried down the stairs by that stampede from earlier.
And that was it. When Claire’s angelic voice hit her ears and begged her not to leave, she realized what she was doing. She had been abandoned and jilted time and time again in her life, and that feeling is the last thing she would want anyone whom she did love to have to experience as well.
But there she was. Doing the same thing her mother had done to her. She couldn’t die now. Just minutes ago (or was it hours? Her sense of perception is fading quickly) she was ready to die. But now, just as it is probably too late, she realizes that she has left so much undone. That letter neatly pinned to Claire’s pillow wasn’t enough — she was leaving her two teenage children — and leaving Violet to do all the work. Why had she been so hard on Violet? Well, she knew why, because Violet had been so hard on her, but Violet was strong. She would have to hold everything together. Why had she only given Claire a letter? Violet would be the one to take charge, Violet would be the one who would need her advice.
She had left them perhaps worse off than she had been by her mother.
“Violet! That letter to Claire is for you, too. Violet, the dishes have to be done in a certain way. Do not ever give into buying a dishwasher. Hand washing is the way to go. And don’t let Claire drink milk! She’s lactose intolerant and I know she’s been sneaking it. Church every Sunday! Eat the yogurt before it goes bad. What is Lenny doing here? I told him to stay with Claire! I am too young to go. What have I done?”
Violet and Claire watched their mother be transferred onto the stretched and then into the ambulance. Her real thoughts indecipherable to them — they were only mumbles, moans and groans with random names and words littered in between.
She stared at the back of her eyelids. No more whirring and whizzing to be seen — she did not even have enough strength to open her eyelids, and her thoughts were moving slowly, slowly, slowly. Her body grew heavy, heavy, heavy. This was empty and hopeless feeling. If this was death, she really did not want it anymore. Emptiness, emptiness — or was she full — she was heavy — she was full of emptiness and full a sense of abandonment and a sense of overwhelming guilt for abandoning the only two people who had never really let her down and never really would have left her. She was trying to abandon abandonment by leaving this world, and instead she was doing the opposite. This is it. She probably won’t look at the world again, just continue to drift towards these dimly colored lights, all the colors of a magnificent sunset.
Abandoning Abandonment
(Modeled after the Jilting of Granny Weatherall)
She lies down on the bed staring at the empty pill bottle — the contents of which were now being released into her blood stream. She could not believe what she had just done. But then again, she could not believe what he had done to her, nor could she believe that it had happened so long ago, yet the depression of it all made her unwilling to live. Before she had chosen to end her life, she was already lifeless for quite some time. She tried to bounce back and recover from the sudden abandonment that came right after she had just given birth to their second child, but she simply could not.
Her entire life was a story of abandonment. Like a slow motion film stream, she sees her mother’s taillights leaving the driveway for the last time — leaving her to raise her two brothers and three sisters — and then she sees him. The first person she ever fully trusted again, and the last person she ever thought would jilt her like that. Things were starting to get fuzzy though. Maybe he wasn’t really gone. Maybe this is him walking into the room right now. Who could be disturbing her peace? She wanted to die in peace — no interruptions. Raising children as a child and then growing up to raise more children made her prone to constant interruptions. This was her time, finally, couldn’t everyone leave her in peace during her final moments?
“Oh my, God. Mom, what have you done? Oh my, God, Claire, call an ambulance! Mom! Mom! Can you hear me? What were you thinking? Oh my, God, how could you do this to us? We need you!”
“Now you tell me that you need me…couldn’t be bothered to say that as I went unnoticed all of these years washing your clothes, doing your dishes, curling your hair, making you dinner, helping you with homework, driving you to your 500 activities…now you will see what it is like to do those things for yourself.”
Violet didn’t say anything. Had she heard her? Was she really that out of it? Was her death really coming this quickly?
“Oh, Mom. You are moaning. I can’t understand you! Stay with me. I’ll stay here and hold your hand the whole time. You’re going to be ok.”
“You’re hands are cold, Violet, you got that bad circulation from your goddamn father. Or was it Lenny? Where is Lenny? If anyone is in here with me it should be Lenny or Claire, even Joad would be better than this, although Joad contracted the grippe a few days ago and hasn’t fully recovered right? Violet, if you insist on all of this fuss, at least get Claire or Lenny in here.”
Again Violet said nothing. But that was Violet for you. She was either as quiet as a mouse, or saying things that pierced your heart like a thorny branch. Were there show tunes playing downstairs? What was all that racket? Could they not see she was trying to die in peace!
“Claire, make them all go away! Just let me be.”
“This is Violet. Do you want Claire here, Mom? Oh, I knew you always loved her more. But, Mom, sometimes…be sensible. I can’t understand…saying…mumbling. Stay…I…take care…you.”
Was this it? Had she really chosen to end her life? Everything was starting to become more distant, but she could still feel a hand on her…and now she realizes what those noises were…the ambulance, the ambulance was here to try to revive her. No, no, no. A herd of men stampeded into the room like mad elephants.
“No! Leave me! I’m fine. It’s all better this way.”
She picked up her arms to flail them in disapproval of being placed onto a stretcher, but they stayed limp at her side. It was hard to believe that these strong arms that had been constantly forced to work for 45 years were now incapable of moving the one time she really wanted them to. The only other time these arms had disappointed her was when they would not move to beat the shit out of Monroe when he embarrassed her and abandoned her in front of the children the perfect gift on their 35th anniversary — which he had forgotten, and for which she had saved up and bought him the car of his dreams — a suped-up red Cadillac straight out of a 1950s movie.
Where was she now? Was she floating? She thought perhaps this was part of her descent into heaven. What a relief, she was so prepared to die and see her Heavenly Father waiting for her behind those pearly gates.
“Mom! Don’t leave me!”
Now she knew where she was. That was undeniably sweet little Claire’s voice and she was strapped to a wooden bed and being carried down the stairs by that stampede from earlier.
And that was it. When Claire’s angelic voice hit her ears and begged her not to leave, she realized what she was doing. She had been abandoned and jilted time and time again in her life, and that feeling is the last thing she would want anyone whom she did love to have to experience as well.
But there she was. Doing the same thing her mother had done to her. She couldn’t die now. Just minutes ago (or was it hours? Her sense of perception is fading quickly) she was ready to die. But now, just as it is probably too late, she realizes that she has left so much undone. That letter neatly pinned to Claire’s pillow wasn’t enough — she was leaving her two teenage children — and leaving Violet to do all the work. Why had she been so hard on Violet? Well, she knew why, because Violet had been so hard on her, but Violet was strong. She would have to hold everything together. Why had she only given Claire a letter? Violet would be the one to take charge, Violet would be the one who would need her advice.
She had left them perhaps worse off than she had been by her mother.
“Violet! That letter to Claire is for you, too. Violet, the dishes have to be done in a certain way. Do not ever give into buying a dishwasher. Hand washing is the way to go. And don’t let Claire drink milk! She’s lactose intolerant and I know she’s been sneaking it. Church every Sunday! Eat the yogurt before it goes bad. What is Lenny doing here? I told him to stay with Claire! I am too young to go. What have I done?”
Violet and Claire watched their mother be transferred onto the stretched and then into the ambulance. Her real thoughts indecipherable to them — they were only mumbles, moans and groans with random names and words littered in between.
She stared at the back of her eyelids. No more whirring and whizzing to be seen — she did not even have enough strength to open her eyelids, and her thoughts were moving slowly, slowly, slowly. Her body grew heavy, heavy, heavy. This was empty and hopeless feeling. If this was death, she really did not want it anymore. Emptiness, emptiness — or was she full — she was heavy — she was full of emptiness and full a sense of abandonment and a sense of overwhelming guilt for abandoning the only two people who had never really let her down and never really would have left her. She was trying to abandon abandonment by leaving this world, and instead she was doing the opposite. This is it. She probably won’t look at the world again, just continue to drift towards these dimly colored lights, all the colors of a magnificent sunset.
13.11.08
Daddy, if you were here
Sometimes I forget the way you smelled. I forget the way you looked before you were sick. I forget your favorite food. I forget the size of your hands. I forget how much I loved you.
I did not used to do that. I used to lament your loss every day, but as each long day has gone on, as my life has gone on without you and as more and more tragedy and heartbreak has struck my life, it has eased the pain of one of the biggest losses of my life — comparable only to the loss of my innocence just months ago.
But when I sit down and really think about you, it's not so easy to forget. In fact, I remember every little detail. I remember the scent of your fresh cologne and Dial soap and Crew hair gel as you'd walk out into the living room freshly showered combing your hair and buckling your belt into the third hole. I remember sitting on the couch and watching you tie your brown leather shoes with ease. I remember your thick head of brown hair — hair that caused a lot of controversy! Controversy with you because you were always scared you were going bald. Controversy for me because with your and mom's dark hair, dark eyes and olive skin, I always had an inkling of a feeling that I must have been adopted. I think the thing I loved most about you though was your big rough hands — so calloused from your years of manual labor.
I remember when mom wouldn't allow us to have TV as a child. I remember our weekly retreats to the bookstore. I'd pick out three of four books high above a typical child's reading level and have them devoured in a matter of a few days. Sometimes you didn't really believe I had read all of them that quickly, but you'd buy me new ones when I asked anyway. My books were always about romance, fictional worlds and far away places. You'd often find some book about Aliens or wander off to the music section to pick out some classic rock CDs. Even then we were more alike than I think either one of us realized.
I have a real loyalty to my mother, and sometimes when I put you up on this pedestal, I hear her sometimes harsh words in the back of my head that make it harder for me. But no. I'm old enough to really think for myself now, and now I really know. I really know that we had so much in common and that so much of who I am today is because of you. I never appreciated it before. And sometimes I get so angry that you can't be here with me. Would I have made some of the mistakes that I've made if YOU would have been here?
Would some other tragedies I've experienced lately been easier if you were here? Oh, I'm sure. When my heart was broken by any number of males, would it have been easier to have my #1 man here to hold me and tell me that I am the most beautiful wonderful creature in the world? Oh, it would have been. And now I must just assume that you think all of these things as you look down on me from Heaven. Are you there? Are you watching me? What's it like, Dad? Are you proud? Or are you sickened? Sickened by all my mistakes, sickened by watching me do some of the same things you did, sickened by lack of motivation lately? Sickened by the way I give in so easily and the way I let other people use and take advantage of me? Sickened by the way I have slacked in the religious aspects of my life? Sickened by distance from the family? Sickened by the mess I've become? Sickened that I couldn't ever cry? Sickened that I stuff all of my huge emotions and problems into a little bottle that is already full and ready to bust?
Or can you be proud? Is it possible? Proud that I have learned from my mistakes? Proud that even though I have made some of the same mistakes as you, that they were all to a much lesser extent? Proud that although I had a period of un-motivation, that I picked up the pieces slowly and got my shit together? Proud that I am working on my personality and the way I deal with the people in my life who use me? Proud that I am learning to vocalize my distaste at the right times in a tasteful manner? Proud that I am trying to slowly get back to Bible study and go to church with mom? Proud that I am spending time with Grandma and have weekly dinners with mom and my new step-dad? Proud that I became a mess and am cleaning it up. Proud that just the other night, I laid on the kitchen floor and sobbed? Proud that right before my bottle of problems exploded, I took out the little ones, slowly, one by one, and started dealing with them like an adult?
God, I hope so. Because if you aren't up there proud of me and seeing everything I am going through and the great person I am trying to become, then I don't know who is. I don't think Mom understands...I love her more than anyone else in this world...but I don't know if she gets it, and I try to make her understand.
I told her that this year everything has changed. My whole life is different and nothing is the same. Nothing will ever be the same. I told her I was depressed because of that. I was crying out for her to listen to me and to help me. She just asked me "Why?" WHY?
WHY? Why do I do think everything in my life is different?
Who the heck AM I now? I've changed my major, I had two huge life-changing experiences this summer, I've changed my friends, I've changed so many of my goals in life and have been working to even change my personality. Nothing is the same and I do not know how else to explain that. It's not necessarily bad, it's just SCARY. I know I am changing most things for the better... but I am also entering unknown territory — completely unknown and I also don't recognize myself when I look in the mirror sometimes. Not that I dislike what I see, but I just am not sure who or what exactly I am turning into. All I know is that I am trying to change for the better... for the most part it is working and I like who I am becoming, but there is still a huge part of me who aches for that old me. The old carefree 16-year-old Erika... but that's the thing, you can't stay 16 forever and you have to learn to grow... and I think I am growing a lot. So quickly that it is confusing me and leaving me either too emotional to understand what I am feeling, or somewhat emotionless.
Ooh man... my head hurts. I think that's enough for tonight.
I'm not emo, although every single one of my blog posts screams that. This is where I vent about sad things though. When one is happy, they tend to live in that moment and not think about writing out his/her emotions. But when one is sad or upset, then that is the time to organize and look at the thoughts and figure things out. :)
I did not used to do that. I used to lament your loss every day, but as each long day has gone on, as my life has gone on without you and as more and more tragedy and heartbreak has struck my life, it has eased the pain of one of the biggest losses of my life — comparable only to the loss of my innocence just months ago.
But when I sit down and really think about you, it's not so easy to forget. In fact, I remember every little detail. I remember the scent of your fresh cologne and Dial soap and Crew hair gel as you'd walk out into the living room freshly showered combing your hair and buckling your belt into the third hole. I remember sitting on the couch and watching you tie your brown leather shoes with ease. I remember your thick head of brown hair — hair that caused a lot of controversy! Controversy with you because you were always scared you were going bald. Controversy for me because with your and mom's dark hair, dark eyes and olive skin, I always had an inkling of a feeling that I must have been adopted. I think the thing I loved most about you though was your big rough hands — so calloused from your years of manual labor.
I remember when mom wouldn't allow us to have TV as a child. I remember our weekly retreats to the bookstore. I'd pick out three of four books high above a typical child's reading level and have them devoured in a matter of a few days. Sometimes you didn't really believe I had read all of them that quickly, but you'd buy me new ones when I asked anyway. My books were always about romance, fictional worlds and far away places. You'd often find some book about Aliens or wander off to the music section to pick out some classic rock CDs. Even then we were more alike than I think either one of us realized.
I have a real loyalty to my mother, and sometimes when I put you up on this pedestal, I hear her sometimes harsh words in the back of my head that make it harder for me. But no. I'm old enough to really think for myself now, and now I really know. I really know that we had so much in common and that so much of who I am today is because of you. I never appreciated it before. And sometimes I get so angry that you can't be here with me. Would I have made some of the mistakes that I've made if YOU would have been here?
Would some other tragedies I've experienced lately been easier if you were here? Oh, I'm sure. When my heart was broken by any number of males, would it have been easier to have my #1 man here to hold me and tell me that I am the most beautiful wonderful creature in the world? Oh, it would have been. And now I must just assume that you think all of these things as you look down on me from Heaven. Are you there? Are you watching me? What's it like, Dad? Are you proud? Or are you sickened? Sickened by all my mistakes, sickened by watching me do some of the same things you did, sickened by lack of motivation lately? Sickened by the way I give in so easily and the way I let other people use and take advantage of me? Sickened by the way I have slacked in the religious aspects of my life? Sickened by distance from the family? Sickened by the mess I've become? Sickened that I couldn't ever cry? Sickened that I stuff all of my huge emotions and problems into a little bottle that is already full and ready to bust?
Or can you be proud? Is it possible? Proud that I have learned from my mistakes? Proud that even though I have made some of the same mistakes as you, that they were all to a much lesser extent? Proud that although I had a period of un-motivation, that I picked up the pieces slowly and got my shit together? Proud that I am working on my personality and the way I deal with the people in my life who use me? Proud that I am learning to vocalize my distaste at the right times in a tasteful manner? Proud that I am trying to slowly get back to Bible study and go to church with mom? Proud that I am spending time with Grandma and have weekly dinners with mom and my new step-dad? Proud that I became a mess and am cleaning it up. Proud that just the other night, I laid on the kitchen floor and sobbed? Proud that right before my bottle of problems exploded, I took out the little ones, slowly, one by one, and started dealing with them like an adult?
God, I hope so. Because if you aren't up there proud of me and seeing everything I am going through and the great person I am trying to become, then I don't know who is. I don't think Mom understands...I love her more than anyone else in this world...but I don't know if she gets it, and I try to make her understand.
I told her that this year everything has changed. My whole life is different and nothing is the same. Nothing will ever be the same. I told her I was depressed because of that. I was crying out for her to listen to me and to help me. She just asked me "Why?" WHY?
WHY? Why do I do think everything in my life is different?
Who the heck AM I now? I've changed my major, I had two huge life-changing experiences this summer, I've changed my friends, I've changed so many of my goals in life and have been working to even change my personality. Nothing is the same and I do not know how else to explain that. It's not necessarily bad, it's just SCARY. I know I am changing most things for the better... but I am also entering unknown territory — completely unknown and I also don't recognize myself when I look in the mirror sometimes. Not that I dislike what I see, but I just am not sure who or what exactly I am turning into. All I know is that I am trying to change for the better... for the most part it is working and I like who I am becoming, but there is still a huge part of me who aches for that old me. The old carefree 16-year-old Erika... but that's the thing, you can't stay 16 forever and you have to learn to grow... and I think I am growing a lot. So quickly that it is confusing me and leaving me either too emotional to understand what I am feeling, or somewhat emotionless.
Ooh man... my head hurts. I think that's enough for tonight.
I'm not emo, although every single one of my blog posts screams that. This is where I vent about sad things though. When one is happy, they tend to live in that moment and not think about writing out his/her emotions. But when one is sad or upset, then that is the time to organize and look at the thoughts and figure things out. :)
9.11.08
Embarrassing stream of consciousness writing...
However cliché the saying may be, I cannot help but to relate: the people who you love the most are the ones who hurt you the most.
Time and time and time and time again this has been proved to me. And time and time again I find myself in the same situations and making the same old stupid decisions and loving and trusting and getting wounded and hurt.
I think that is why I have trouble forming really strong, emotional bonds with people, even family... because whenever I do invest my all, my everything — all my love, all my care, all of me — into someone, I often get shit in return.
Not that love should ever be about giving and getting back. Nothing makes me happier than to give and to make others happy. But I just want friendship in return... How can one be a friend to someone who is not a friend back? It's not really possible...
Not that I do not have good friends. But everyone good goes away, everything nice passes... and I'm stuck dealing with the shit that my "loved" ones left behind for me.
The thing is...all I ever wanted, all I ever asked for was to be your friend. Nothing more... and you can't even give me that. You point out my flaws, fail to ever say, "thank you", you make me feel ugly and worthless sometimes. So why do I even bother? Why did I bother? And all this doesn't just go for you...
It just might happen to go for you and you and you and you and you and yeah, maybe even YOU over there in the corner.
I care(d) about your so much! and what was all of this? You felt obligated to do this one thing for me... because I was so nice to you and did you all of those favors... but that friendship... the friendship I long for and the friendship I asked for...you could care less about that, right? This girl, who was there for you, this girl who tried to pick you up and make you feel better and pick up the pieces when you were hurting, this girl who sacrificed to give you a lot, this girl who was honest and up front with you and told you all of these wonderful things...this girl needed you and you weren't there. You would rather be with her and her and her and him and him and her and her. You would rather be there or there or that place or there with her... never here with me unless it's something of obligation, right?
You sit there across from me with those stupid headphones in your ears. I talk to you, you act like you hear, but you don't listen. You may know that my birthday is January 17, 1989, but you don't know the real girl who came out of the womb that day. I thought you were trying... but you weren't at all.
Selfish, selfish, selfish, just like everyone else who has done this to me.
Used, used, used, used... Me, me, me, me, used, used, used... over and over again.
and by YOU of all people!!! I always know in the back of my head that it was possible, but you are so timid, so shy, so smart, so seemingly sweet and innocent, I never thought it could really be... but it is... and more than I could have ever imagined.
How wrong my first impression was.
You're not the only one going through a rough patch of life. I'm here, too... I thought we would be here for each other... but it's a one-sides thing, huh?
You get what you want from me on your watch, when you want it... and anything that I may want or need from you... well, it honestly doesn't matter... does it? Right, selfish, I already said that. But you don't get it. Maybe you really don't have emotions...
Because after what I said to you, I do not know how any normal human being could have treated me like this.
Thank you for proving that I am right in always expecting the worst — especially from human beings — especially from the people you love the most and for whom you would do absolutely anything...
and I really would have.
Had you told me to jump, I would have done it.
Time and time and time and time again this has been proved to me. And time and time again I find myself in the same situations and making the same old stupid decisions and loving and trusting and getting wounded and hurt.
I think that is why I have trouble forming really strong, emotional bonds with people, even family... because whenever I do invest my all, my everything — all my love, all my care, all of me — into someone, I often get shit in return.
Not that love should ever be about giving and getting back. Nothing makes me happier than to give and to make others happy. But I just want friendship in return... How can one be a friend to someone who is not a friend back? It's not really possible...
Not that I do not have good friends. But everyone good goes away, everything nice passes... and I'm stuck dealing with the shit that my "loved" ones left behind for me.
The thing is...all I ever wanted, all I ever asked for was to be your friend. Nothing more... and you can't even give me that. You point out my flaws, fail to ever say, "thank you", you make me feel ugly and worthless sometimes. So why do I even bother? Why did I bother? And all this doesn't just go for you...
It just might happen to go for you and you and you and you and you and yeah, maybe even YOU over there in the corner.
I care(d) about your so much! and what was all of this? You felt obligated to do this one thing for me... because I was so nice to you and did you all of those favors... but that friendship... the friendship I long for and the friendship I asked for...you could care less about that, right? This girl, who was there for you, this girl who tried to pick you up and make you feel better and pick up the pieces when you were hurting, this girl who sacrificed to give you a lot, this girl who was honest and up front with you and told you all of these wonderful things...this girl needed you and you weren't there. You would rather be with her and her and her and him and him and her and her. You would rather be there or there or that place or there with her... never here with me unless it's something of obligation, right?
You sit there across from me with those stupid headphones in your ears. I talk to you, you act like you hear, but you don't listen. You may know that my birthday is January 17, 1989, but you don't know the real girl who came out of the womb that day. I thought you were trying... but you weren't at all.
Selfish, selfish, selfish, just like everyone else who has done this to me.
Used, used, used, used... Me, me, me, me, used, used, used... over and over again.
and by YOU of all people!!! I always know in the back of my head that it was possible, but you are so timid, so shy, so smart, so seemingly sweet and innocent, I never thought it could really be... but it is... and more than I could have ever imagined.
How wrong my first impression was.
You're not the only one going through a rough patch of life. I'm here, too... I thought we would be here for each other... but it's a one-sides thing, huh?
You get what you want from me on your watch, when you want it... and anything that I may want or need from you... well, it honestly doesn't matter... does it? Right, selfish, I already said that. But you don't get it. Maybe you really don't have emotions...
Because after what I said to you, I do not know how any normal human being could have treated me like this.
Thank you for proving that I am right in always expecting the worst — especially from human beings — especially from the people you love the most and for whom you would do absolutely anything...
and I really would have.
Had you told me to jump, I would have done it.
31.10.08
Bueno...
Something really scary happened to you the other day. I didn't know what to do... and in that moment, something flashed before my eyes and I thought about a world without you... and I realized, I had been taking you for granted, and I'm sorry.
And I told you that today... and I am so glad I did. For once I wrote a long letter and for once it got delivered... and it got such an amazing response. I have never been happier...
And lately, I think I have been doing a better job of just being blunt with my emotions. Even if it means writing it out and hiding under the covers while someone reads a letter I wrote them — it's better than keeping silent and not saying anything at all...
The thing is, for some reason I thought you would be upset after you read what I had to say to you, but you felt so many emotions toward me — none of which I think were bad at all. And you were so sweet to me.
I guess I am proud of myself for doing something I've never had the balls to do before... and I am so glad it was with you because you treated me so well and I knew it would never warp the way you think of me — at least in bad way — but I think it DID change the way you think of me — for the better! This is all proof that I need to be more willing to take risks and more willing to put my feelings out there right away instead of waiting centuries...
Because, as the other night proved, if you don't tell someone how you feel (about love or a fight or just anything with any relationship, romantic or non-romantic), you could regret it — his/her/your life could slip away in a second when you least expect it... and I am so glad you are still here and that you are ok. :D I can't wait to see where this all goes and I am so happy you are here.
And I told you that today... and I am so glad I did. For once I wrote a long letter and for once it got delivered... and it got such an amazing response. I have never been happier...
And lately, I think I have been doing a better job of just being blunt with my emotions. Even if it means writing it out and hiding under the covers while someone reads a letter I wrote them — it's better than keeping silent and not saying anything at all...
The thing is, for some reason I thought you would be upset after you read what I had to say to you, but you felt so many emotions toward me — none of which I think were bad at all. And you were so sweet to me.
I guess I am proud of myself for doing something I've never had the balls to do before... and I am so glad it was with you because you treated me so well and I knew it would never warp the way you think of me — at least in bad way — but I think it DID change the way you think of me — for the better! This is all proof that I need to be more willing to take risks and more willing to put my feelings out there right away instead of waiting centuries...
Because, as the other night proved, if you don't tell someone how you feel (about love or a fight or just anything with any relationship, romantic or non-romantic), you could regret it — his/her/your life could slip away in a second when you least expect it... and I am so glad you are still here and that you are ok. :D I can't wait to see where this all goes and I am so happy you are here.
28.10.08
I think I was easily inspired by you and that's why I chose to write about my thoughts on you so much.
Now that that's done...
I am back here tonight in my bed alone... and it's only 1 a.m. It wasn't how the evening was supposed to end at all. I've been finding that lately I rarely get anything that I want, and in fact, I get in return what I want least of all.
I started thinking about that. Why? Is it because what I want is unreasonable and impossible? No, as a matter of fact, all the things I desire for my life right now are so practical. But what I want, is that what I need? Is that the way my life should actually be going? And if I don't get what I want, then it's not what I needed. I need to learn to accept that, and be HAPPY with that. I am so sick of being let down and not getting what I think I want and what I think I deserve, that lately I have felt like I don't deserve anything and have had no desire for anything.
I guess tonight I had expectations. And I got treated like shit, when I least expected it... But I said I wasn't going to write about my romantic life in here for a while. But I am sick of being treated like shit... by a lot of people in my life. And I am starting to learn who those people are, and also starting to realize who my real friends are. No more big parties trying to be everyone's friend. Those are fun like once every couple of months, but last year, every other weekend was too much. Even once a month is too much for me anymore.
I'm starting to realize that smaller groups and really getting to form connections with people are so much more important. I know why I have always been scared of that though, it's because I have been hurt and let down and had my trust broken... more than I think most people have. And for so long I have been scared of being hurt more and more...but if you don't run the risk of getting hurt, then you never get to feel the bliss of being loved and the bliss of having those strong connections with a friend.
The people I have been surrounding myself with lately are so great. I think that is the major thing I am so grateful for in my life right now. Sure, some relationships may be really torn up...someone close to me is in love with me and I don't feel the same way, I made a simple mistake & apologized... and my best friend and her mom still can't forgive me and they attacked me during the hardest time in my life, I have some kinks to work out in a couple other relationships, and I had an awkward "phone" call today (that I think ended pretty well! :D)...but those are all things that will fix themselves naturally and in time, and if they don't fix themselves, then the wounds will completely heal someday. In the meantime, I have never been happier socially, now that I am only spending quality time with the people I most want in my life and not pretending to be friends with people who only want to use me or are selfish, or whose friendship only benefits them and not me at all. A friendship should work both ways, and wanting to get some satisfaction and happiness out of a friendship is a completely realistic thing to ask. I believe if I can't see those qualities in someone, it doesn't mean that they are a bad person, it just means that we shouldn't be the best of friends.
I know that rant was kind of random, but I guess that's what I've been dealing with lately, and it's my blog.
So, Mexico. I think I'm going back. When I first found out... I didn't cry, but I think I got really upset in a strange way. I didn't sleep or eat or feel any emotions for like five days. I skipped a bunch of class and was a recluse and went into hiding almost...Then, I woke up today ready to face the world and this problem. I got a lot of my makeup work done, wrote an essay about Edward Gorey (fabulous!), I E-mailed my attorney and got some papers from my counselor/psychologist... and start practicing my Spanish. I want to better my Spanish as much as possible so I can say some mean shit to this bastard in his native tongue... not that I really have a choice considering they don't let me have a translator, but whatever. Last time I at least got to have one in the room just in case I really couldn't think of a word... but this time there is no one. I am scared to death. If anyone wants to practice Spanish with me, please, please please! :)
Hmm... what was this post? Something to distract me from all the things making me sad and to help me escape from thinking about some really sad things? Yeah, it was that. I don't want to stop writing, because then I will just lay in bed and thinking about how sad I am about tonight and Mexico and so many other things that one could never justify and properly explain in a stupid little blog like mine.
I feel like my words have become worthless lately and as if I have become incapable and writing anything deep, meaningful, beautiful or even just nice to read.
Guess I used up all of my energy a few months ago writing practically a novel for a young man that I never sent and never will(oh, maybe someday...in like 10 years...don't freak)! hahahah :) that's ok though.
Now that that's done...
I am back here tonight in my bed alone... and it's only 1 a.m. It wasn't how the evening was supposed to end at all. I've been finding that lately I rarely get anything that I want, and in fact, I get in return what I want least of all.
I started thinking about that. Why? Is it because what I want is unreasonable and impossible? No, as a matter of fact, all the things I desire for my life right now are so practical. But what I want, is that what I need? Is that the way my life should actually be going? And if I don't get what I want, then it's not what I needed. I need to learn to accept that, and be HAPPY with that. I am so sick of being let down and not getting what I think I want and what I think I deserve, that lately I have felt like I don't deserve anything and have had no desire for anything.
I guess tonight I had expectations. And I got treated like shit, when I least expected it... But I said I wasn't going to write about my romantic life in here for a while. But I am sick of being treated like shit... by a lot of people in my life. And I am starting to learn who those people are, and also starting to realize who my real friends are. No more big parties trying to be everyone's friend. Those are fun like once every couple of months, but last year, every other weekend was too much. Even once a month is too much for me anymore.
I'm starting to realize that smaller groups and really getting to form connections with people are so much more important. I know why I have always been scared of that though, it's because I have been hurt and let down and had my trust broken... more than I think most people have. And for so long I have been scared of being hurt more and more...but if you don't run the risk of getting hurt, then you never get to feel the bliss of being loved and the bliss of having those strong connections with a friend.
The people I have been surrounding myself with lately are so great. I think that is the major thing I am so grateful for in my life right now. Sure, some relationships may be really torn up...someone close to me is in love with me and I don't feel the same way, I made a simple mistake & apologized... and my best friend and her mom still can't forgive me and they attacked me during the hardest time in my life, I have some kinks to work out in a couple other relationships, and I had an awkward "phone" call today (that I think ended pretty well! :D)...but those are all things that will fix themselves naturally and in time, and if they don't fix themselves, then the wounds will completely heal someday. In the meantime, I have never been happier socially, now that I am only spending quality time with the people I most want in my life and not pretending to be friends with people who only want to use me or are selfish, or whose friendship only benefits them and not me at all. A friendship should work both ways, and wanting to get some satisfaction and happiness out of a friendship is a completely realistic thing to ask. I believe if I can't see those qualities in someone, it doesn't mean that they are a bad person, it just means that we shouldn't be the best of friends.
I know that rant was kind of random, but I guess that's what I've been dealing with lately, and it's my blog.
So, Mexico. I think I'm going back. When I first found out... I didn't cry, but I think I got really upset in a strange way. I didn't sleep or eat or feel any emotions for like five days. I skipped a bunch of class and was a recluse and went into hiding almost...Then, I woke up today ready to face the world and this problem. I got a lot of my makeup work done, wrote an essay about Edward Gorey (fabulous!), I E-mailed my attorney and got some papers from my counselor/psychologist... and start practicing my Spanish. I want to better my Spanish as much as possible so I can say some mean shit to this bastard in his native tongue... not that I really have a choice considering they don't let me have a translator, but whatever. Last time I at least got to have one in the room just in case I really couldn't think of a word... but this time there is no one. I am scared to death. If anyone wants to practice Spanish with me, please, please please! :)
Hmm... what was this post? Something to distract me from all the things making me sad and to help me escape from thinking about some really sad things? Yeah, it was that. I don't want to stop writing, because then I will just lay in bed and thinking about how sad I am about tonight and Mexico and so many other things that one could never justify and properly explain in a stupid little blog like mine.
I feel like my words have become worthless lately and as if I have become incapable and writing anything deep, meaningful, beautiful or even just nice to read.
Guess I used up all of my energy a few months ago writing practically a novel for a young man that I never sent and never will(oh, maybe someday...in like 10 years...don't freak)! hahahah :) that's ok though.
27.10.08
Your silence says the most.
That was all getting old and tiring. I'm ready to get this little blog back to what I originally had intended it for — to share my thoughts, ideas, anecdotes and little poems with the world — not use it to foolishly communicate with someone who doesn't even care that I was hurting about something. And I gave one last attempt at letting that person say something, anything, to me to ease the pain a little, and that didn't happen. Fine, it's fine. I would have preferred any reaction to this, but what can you do? I took a risk, I took it too late and I did it in a really stupid and pathetic way unlike I ever imagined I would. But, as I thought about it this weekend...I wondered what the hell I was thinking? After realizing how unimportant I am to this person, it made me wonder why I cared so long and so much. So I am going to stop. And it made me really want to go for it with this new person... and my most recent little date was absolutely beautiful, because I let go for an evening and stopped being so scared.
Anyway. Whatever. That's just some random ramblings. I deleted a LOT of my old posts. There were about 50, and I've gone down to 16. I just didn't want to live in the past. I deleted a lot of the posts where all I did was complain. I deleted most of the posts where all I did was try to slyly deal with my emotions toward a certain person. And for a while, I think I might try to force myself to stay away from writing about love and relationships. That's boring and gets my writing stuck in a rut, because that is what I always write/complain about and that is always what everyone writes about.
So here's to a new blog — a new way of thinking — a new love — a new Frilz.
I'm excited to see where this goes, and even if you are upset with me for my confessions, I hope you stay along for the journey.
Anyway. Whatever. That's just some random ramblings. I deleted a LOT of my old posts. There were about 50, and I've gone down to 16. I just didn't want to live in the past. I deleted a lot of the posts where all I did was complain. I deleted most of the posts where all I did was try to slyly deal with my emotions toward a certain person. And for a while, I think I might try to force myself to stay away from writing about love and relationships. That's boring and gets my writing stuck in a rut, because that is what I always write/complain about and that is always what everyone writes about.
So here's to a new blog — a new way of thinking — a new love — a new Frilz.
I'm excited to see where this goes, and even if you are upset with me for my confessions, I hope you stay along for the journey.
25.8.08
Let's Go to Ohio
These past few days of my life have been a stellar reminder of all the amazing things there are in the world for me, and everyone else, to live for. They also have been a reminder that a new time in my life is upon me and a reminder that soon more people I love will go away, but they will never be forgotten or replaced — but there will be new people and new memories to build upon past ones.
When I love someone, I sometimes wonder if I really truly love only them as a person — or if I am in love with everything surrounding my memories of that person. It is as if I am not only in love with a human being, but I am more-so in love with a time and a place — in love with moments and photos and shared sunsets and late night swims.
And I think that is why it is so hard to stop loving someone. Not just because they are this great person, but because they were there for so many cherished moments of your life. Maybe to others those moments seem so insignificant, but so many small moments of my life stay with me forever and shape me.
My earliest memory is of a two or three-year-old Erika eating a hot dog and sitting in a shopping cart with my mom at the grocery store. It is the first thing I remember from my beginning days on this planet. Sometimes I wonder why that? I think, as silly as it sounds, it was the happiest I had been yet in my life. There were so many colors everywhere and so many people. I remember pointing to the food stand and showing my mother that I wanted the hot dog... and she gave it to me on the condition that I gave her a kiss. And I felt loved. And all of these colors whirling around me as I sat there in that shopping cart, eating delicious food, feeling what love is for the first time... to such a young person, a kiss and getting what you want does seem like love. I did not really know what was happening yet, but I had just begun my first adventure of love in life... with my mother. This was the first piece of a giant puzzle of memories making up two people's love for each other, and it can't be completed until we have both been taken from this earth.
It takes a long time to build those first relationships of love. But once I learned how to love and how good it felt to be loved back, all I have tried to do my entire life is to love without fear of consequence, to love without regret, to love without thinking about the fact that I will get hurt. The thing is, all I have been is hurt and hurt again in these past couple of years, and the past month, for the first time ever, I regretted giving and showing so much love to people that, for a while, I did not think deserved it...
But in the past few days, I have changed my mind. Anyone and everyone deserves to be loved, no matter what... and whether they show love in return or not, whether or not they show any gratitude for you loving them, it does affect them and it does change them... even the stubborn ones who will not admit to any such idea!
But now, I have just one problem. And to share it, or not to share it, that is my dilemma. And I think I have decided not to. Yes, a person deserves to be loved, but some people do not deserve to know everything. It might hurt them or it might hurt me, or both... or, even worse, I would say things I do not mean... and that is what I am most afraid of right now. Because I do that sometimes. I spend all of this time pouring out my soul onto those crisp white pages, wet in my tears by the end of the writing, and then re-read it a week later, and wonder how I could have possibly written that or felt that way... right now I feel like I am more so in love with a time in my life and in love with memories and not any person in particular. I need to just make myself feel convinced of that 24/7, and stop becoming so nostalgic all of the time.
It is time for new memories and new moments. I was excited at first, but now I am scared. I am scared of everything and I am scared to love more people who in the end just go away.
This weekend was the perfect ending to a less-than-perfect summer (although wonderful) and a perfect beginning to a new year. There was a lot of new — meeting all the new internationals, mini-party, having some old internationals over intermingled with the new, having old friends meet me in new places, going to a concert in Omaha with one of my besties and experiencing some of the really old times... Then a wonderful, beautiful, gorgeous Sunday spent with two people I adore.
And one of these little ladies is going back to a place she once loved and must learn to love again.
Sometimes I am bad at expressing how I feel for a person out-loud, face-to-face... especially when it is someone who makes m laugh more than anyone else in the entire world... so sometimes I have to be a lame ass and write out what I feel.
Katelyn, Kate, Katinka, Dollar Bill Andy...
It started out simple enough. Innocent discussions about fashion trends that are simply "UGGly"... then you went off to college and I'm sure we rarely thought of each other. Then one day, I was walking around the UNL campus and there you were in your curly-haired glory, whizzing towards me on your inline skates.
God, I love you and the fact that we can inline skate together and not care that everyone makes fun of us.
Anyway, this small bud of friendship was nurtured and cared for so well throughout the past year, and it has now turned into a beautiful hibiscus... or perhaps a large colorful chrysanthemum or a water lily... no, not even that. I have a better analogy. Or little tiny seed of friendship has not only blossomed into a wonderful corn dog scented flower, but we have spawned an entire garden together. The sunken gardens? It may say it was created in 1931 by men who needed jobs during the greatest financial depression Nebraska had ever seen, but that is a lie. It began when we met in 2000 something... ahahahah
I remember when you thought I was a freak though.
But we can move on from that, because now our Garden of Love is so huge.
It was so nice eating Kookaburra and corn dogs and drinking wine and tea and having you feed me Ched R Peppers.
I really hope that we can go inline skating on the trails in Lincoln sometime soon and go to the Zoo, and then afterwards, I'll take you to Arby's for the best Jalapeños you'll ever put in your mouth.
Today I watched a documentary called, "The Hunt for the Wild Penipede". They obviously don't know much about penipedes if they can't find one. They began their hunt in the Amazon. That's the last place the penipede would be, and you and I both know that.
Anyway
I love you. A lot! For Real. Yo style, yo shoes, yo curly lil hairs, yo pet penipede, our sexXxy times togetha... I love your laugh... and the way you look at me from across the room when you don't think I know you're staring at me... hahahahahah
Thanks for being there for me. Probably more than anyone else this summer. Let's hang out on Skype like every night, so we will never feel like we are apart... and we can blast Carry Me Ohio while you get attacked by a bat.
Don't ever forget about our midnight romp through Querétaro either. Spicy tacos!!!!!!!!
KATE>>>>>>>>>...>>>..
leT's get ready for some Oma-Linc adventure times with Rebecca/Mary @ the Well. I'm really glad we befriended her yesterday. She's great! So hilarious, too.
p.s. supposedly, carry me ohio is about suicide. i don't like that. i like what i think it is about in my head.
When I love someone, I sometimes wonder if I really truly love only them as a person — or if I am in love with everything surrounding my memories of that person. It is as if I am not only in love with a human being, but I am more-so in love with a time and a place — in love with moments and photos and shared sunsets and late night swims.
And I think that is why it is so hard to stop loving someone. Not just because they are this great person, but because they were there for so many cherished moments of your life. Maybe to others those moments seem so insignificant, but so many small moments of my life stay with me forever and shape me.
My earliest memory is of a two or three-year-old Erika eating a hot dog and sitting in a shopping cart with my mom at the grocery store. It is the first thing I remember from my beginning days on this planet. Sometimes I wonder why that? I think, as silly as it sounds, it was the happiest I had been yet in my life. There were so many colors everywhere and so many people. I remember pointing to the food stand and showing my mother that I wanted the hot dog... and she gave it to me on the condition that I gave her a kiss. And I felt loved. And all of these colors whirling around me as I sat there in that shopping cart, eating delicious food, feeling what love is for the first time... to such a young person, a kiss and getting what you want does seem like love. I did not really know what was happening yet, but I had just begun my first adventure of love in life... with my mother. This was the first piece of a giant puzzle of memories making up two people's love for each other, and it can't be completed until we have both been taken from this earth.
It takes a long time to build those first relationships of love. But once I learned how to love and how good it felt to be loved back, all I have tried to do my entire life is to love without fear of consequence, to love without regret, to love without thinking about the fact that I will get hurt. The thing is, all I have been is hurt and hurt again in these past couple of years, and the past month, for the first time ever, I regretted giving and showing so much love to people that, for a while, I did not think deserved it...
But in the past few days, I have changed my mind. Anyone and everyone deserves to be loved, no matter what... and whether they show love in return or not, whether or not they show any gratitude for you loving them, it does affect them and it does change them... even the stubborn ones who will not admit to any such idea!
But now, I have just one problem. And to share it, or not to share it, that is my dilemma. And I think I have decided not to. Yes, a person deserves to be loved, but some people do not deserve to know everything. It might hurt them or it might hurt me, or both... or, even worse, I would say things I do not mean... and that is what I am most afraid of right now. Because I do that sometimes. I spend all of this time pouring out my soul onto those crisp white pages, wet in my tears by the end of the writing, and then re-read it a week later, and wonder how I could have possibly written that or felt that way... right now I feel like I am more so in love with a time in my life and in love with memories and not any person in particular. I need to just make myself feel convinced of that 24/7, and stop becoming so nostalgic all of the time.
It is time for new memories and new moments. I was excited at first, but now I am scared. I am scared of everything and I am scared to love more people who in the end just go away.
This weekend was the perfect ending to a less-than-perfect summer (although wonderful) and a perfect beginning to a new year. There was a lot of new — meeting all the new internationals, mini-party, having some old internationals over intermingled with the new, having old friends meet me in new places, going to a concert in Omaha with one of my besties and experiencing some of the really old times... Then a wonderful, beautiful, gorgeous Sunday spent with two people I adore.
And one of these little ladies is going back to a place she once loved and must learn to love again.
Sometimes I am bad at expressing how I feel for a person out-loud, face-to-face... especially when it is someone who makes m laugh more than anyone else in the entire world... so sometimes I have to be a lame ass and write out what I feel.
Katelyn, Kate, Katinka, Dollar Bill Andy...
It started out simple enough. Innocent discussions about fashion trends that are simply "UGGly"... then you went off to college and I'm sure we rarely thought of each other. Then one day, I was walking around the UNL campus and there you were in your curly-haired glory, whizzing towards me on your inline skates.
God, I love you and the fact that we can inline skate together and not care that everyone makes fun of us.
Anyway, this small bud of friendship was nurtured and cared for so well throughout the past year, and it has now turned into a beautiful hibiscus... or perhaps a large colorful chrysanthemum or a water lily... no, not even that. I have a better analogy. Or little tiny seed of friendship has not only blossomed into a wonderful corn dog scented flower, but we have spawned an entire garden together. The sunken gardens? It may say it was created in 1931 by men who needed jobs during the greatest financial depression Nebraska had ever seen, but that is a lie. It began when we met in 2000 something... ahahahah
I remember when you thought I was a freak though.
But we can move on from that, because now our Garden of Love is so huge.
It was so nice eating Kookaburra and corn dogs and drinking wine and tea and having you feed me Ched R Peppers.
I really hope that we can go inline skating on the trails in Lincoln sometime soon and go to the Zoo, and then afterwards, I'll take you to Arby's for the best Jalapeños you'll ever put in your mouth.
Today I watched a documentary called, "The Hunt for the Wild Penipede". They obviously don't know much about penipedes if they can't find one. They began their hunt in the Amazon. That's the last place the penipede would be, and you and I both know that.
Anyway
I love you. A lot! For Real. Yo style, yo shoes, yo curly lil hairs, yo pet penipede, our sexXxy times togetha... I love your laugh... and the way you look at me from across the room when you don't think I know you're staring at me... hahahahahah
Thanks for being there for me. Probably more than anyone else this summer. Let's hang out on Skype like every night, so we will never feel like we are apart... and we can blast Carry Me Ohio while you get attacked by a bat.
Don't ever forget about our midnight romp through Querétaro either. Spicy tacos!!!!!!!!
KATE>>>>>>>>>...>>>..
leT's get ready for some Oma-Linc adventure times with Rebecca/Mary @ the Well. I'm really glad we befriended her yesterday. She's great! So hilarious, too.
p.s. supposedly, carry me ohio is about suicide. i don't like that. i like what i think it is about in my head.
13.7.08
I decided today to not let it matter
I decided to let it disintegrate...to turn into nothing...to turn into what it was in the first place, or what it should have been — I'm not sure.
Sometimes I wonder how satisfying it must be to read these words that I spill out... when I write about someone and they know it's about them...
Sometimes I want to erase this entire blog and start over... not just this entry, but this whole little site, and keep all my thoughts private...but I have all of these strange thoughts, and I like to get other's input or put my thoughts out there... but without sharing too much of who or what I am talking about, and this sometimes makes things difficult...
I need to make myself vulnerable. I need to be willing to get so incredibly hurt if I put everything out there. But once I experience all that hurt, then all I can do is get better from there. Once the bullet goes completely through the heart, you either give up and die, or you're a fighter and you slowly recover. I've always been a fighter.
I start to put things on here... but — I choke, I erase, and I hide a lot of things that are really affecting me right now. Part of me just wants to scream it, but there's this huge part of me holding back, because I just want to hold on to this fake idea I have in my head... because that's so much nicer than facing what I secretly know is a reality.
And the thing is, no one cares, especially who I would want to care. The last thing they would want to do is be bothered with this. His/her life is all figured out... and mine is one huge tangled up mess... but once this huge mess of mine is unraveled, I know it will turn out beautiful, I just have some knots to undo and some wrinkles to iron out.
I wonder if in any way I did what I felt like I did. If I really made someone think certain things. If I could change someone's life. Could I do that? Did I do that? Or Will I do that? Does that make sense? No, not at all. Not to anyone, just me.
Why must I be so vague? I wish it weren't so.
I have been also waiting all day for a phone call. From my attorney, from my group leaders, my host mom in Mexico... anyone... someone to tell me what is going on in my life... someone to tell me if I really, truly have to go back to Mexico...
I've been let down by so many people I trusted lately. In fact, nearly every person I ever placed any trust in has let me down. Actually, there are about two people in my life who haven't broken my trust lately...
I feel kind of alone...like the world is swirling around me and passing me by.
When I found out I probably have to go back to Mexico today, it ruined my entire day. Instead of having the fabulous day I had planned, for the first time in longer than I can remember, I sat and watched crappy, crappy American television all day.
I have this other problem with another person, too... He/she was one of my best friends... but there has been some awkwardness within our relationship... not primarily caused by me...but I am upset...but I am so bad at telling people that I am upset.
I don't know how to tell anyone NO. Especially if I love them... and I love and trust most people, no matter how much they hurt me.
I rarely give up on anyone. But I so very much must learn to stand up for myself. I must learn to say no, I must learn that I will sometimes have to let other people down to make things better in the end... and I must learn that other people do NOT always come first... that sometimes you do have to look out for yourself... and I am trying so hard to do that...
But when I love someone, I jump over the moon for them. I go broke for them. I skip class for them. I run their errands. I act as a lackey... I act as a friend... or a chef, or a maid... whatever. I will do whatever I think needs to be done to prove my love and to keep that friendship or that relationship or that love alive.
The thing is, while admirable as that is, it is rarely the best thing for me to do... especially since most of the people I do those things for, would not do quite the same for me in return... which is sad, but not unexpected.
That sounds like I am complaining... but unless you really know me, and how devoted and how much I do for someone I love, then that makes no sense. I know people love me back, and I know I am one of the most blessed girls in the entire world. God has done so much for me, and my life is so great. Every obstacle has done nothing but make me stronger.
This post was all over the place... I suppose I was just doing some spring cleaning of the brain.
P.S.
Today I almost took a framed photo and threw it through the window. I stopped myself. I almost wish I would have done it though... it would have been so unlike me and completely unexpected... and considering everything I've been through... I don't think anyone would have scolded me in the necessary way... so it could have been great.
I bet you're wondering which photograph? which window? It's probably not what you imagine. I think you'd be surprised. So sentimental, yet so much hidden anger! hahahah
I didn't really do it though.
Sometimes I wonder how satisfying it must be to read these words that I spill out... when I write about someone and they know it's about them...
Sometimes I want to erase this entire blog and start over... not just this entry, but this whole little site, and keep all my thoughts private...but I have all of these strange thoughts, and I like to get other's input or put my thoughts out there... but without sharing too much of who or what I am talking about, and this sometimes makes things difficult...
I need to make myself vulnerable. I need to be willing to get so incredibly hurt if I put everything out there. But once I experience all that hurt, then all I can do is get better from there. Once the bullet goes completely through the heart, you either give up and die, or you're a fighter and you slowly recover. I've always been a fighter.
I start to put things on here... but — I choke, I erase, and I hide a lot of things that are really affecting me right now. Part of me just wants to scream it, but there's this huge part of me holding back, because I just want to hold on to this fake idea I have in my head... because that's so much nicer than facing what I secretly know is a reality.
And the thing is, no one cares, especially who I would want to care. The last thing they would want to do is be bothered with this. His/her life is all figured out... and mine is one huge tangled up mess... but once this huge mess of mine is unraveled, I know it will turn out beautiful, I just have some knots to undo and some wrinkles to iron out.
I wonder if in any way I did what I felt like I did. If I really made someone think certain things. If I could change someone's life. Could I do that? Did I do that? Or Will I do that? Does that make sense? No, not at all. Not to anyone, just me.
Why must I be so vague? I wish it weren't so.
I have been also waiting all day for a phone call. From my attorney, from my group leaders, my host mom in Mexico... anyone... someone to tell me what is going on in my life... someone to tell me if I really, truly have to go back to Mexico...
I've been let down by so many people I trusted lately. In fact, nearly every person I ever placed any trust in has let me down. Actually, there are about two people in my life who haven't broken my trust lately...
I feel kind of alone...like the world is swirling around me and passing me by.
When I found out I probably have to go back to Mexico today, it ruined my entire day. Instead of having the fabulous day I had planned, for the first time in longer than I can remember, I sat and watched crappy, crappy American television all day.
I have this other problem with another person, too... He/she was one of my best friends... but there has been some awkwardness within our relationship... not primarily caused by me...but I am upset...but I am so bad at telling people that I am upset.
I don't know how to tell anyone NO. Especially if I love them... and I love and trust most people, no matter how much they hurt me.
I rarely give up on anyone. But I so very much must learn to stand up for myself. I must learn to say no, I must learn that I will sometimes have to let other people down to make things better in the end... and I must learn that other people do NOT always come first... that sometimes you do have to look out for yourself... and I am trying so hard to do that...
But when I love someone, I jump over the moon for them. I go broke for them. I skip class for them. I run their errands. I act as a lackey... I act as a friend... or a chef, or a maid... whatever. I will do whatever I think needs to be done to prove my love and to keep that friendship or that relationship or that love alive.
The thing is, while admirable as that is, it is rarely the best thing for me to do... especially since most of the people I do those things for, would not do quite the same for me in return... which is sad, but not unexpected.
That sounds like I am complaining... but unless you really know me, and how devoted and how much I do for someone I love, then that makes no sense. I know people love me back, and I know I am one of the most blessed girls in the entire world. God has done so much for me, and my life is so great. Every obstacle has done nothing but make me stronger.
This post was all over the place... I suppose I was just doing some spring cleaning of the brain.
P.S.
Today I almost took a framed photo and threw it through the window. I stopped myself. I almost wish I would have done it though... it would have been so unlike me and completely unexpected... and considering everything I've been through... I don't think anyone would have scolded me in the necessary way... so it could have been great.
I bet you're wondering which photograph? which window? It's probably not what you imagine. I think you'd be surprised. So sentimental, yet so much hidden anger! hahahah
I didn't really do it though.
1.7.08
It's going to take a lot more than that to sink this ship...
Unlike the past few days where I have felt some sort of renewal upon the new day marked by the rising sun, today I woke up alone... literally, and emotionally. There was no one next to me to comfort me, and there is no one to truly understand what emotions I'm feeling right now.
The thing is, I think for the past few days I have been in shock. I didn't know what to feel. I thought, "Ok, this happened, it was bad, but you are strong. You can move on from this so easily." And since it happened, I have been constantly surrounding myself with people. Not wanting to be alone. Laughing. Playing in the sun. Cooking. Enjoying all the things I missed at home... but this morning, reality sunk in. I am at home. I'm back to this routine, and I'm finally realizing that I need to deal with my emotions. I can't just laugh away my problems — that's just a temporary relief mechanism of mine.
I have problems. I ignore my emotions a lot. I do this because I think I am strong enough to forget and move on without actually facing the problem. I try to not think about my feelings toward what happened for more than a day or two... and with some of the traumatic things I have been through, that's just not right. I screwed up. I've screwed up my emotions for possibly the rest of my life by not wanting to deal with things the right way... but I don't know what the RIGHT way is. It's probably different for every person... so what is right for me? I think the only reason I have been able to get through any of the things I've been through at all is because of my faith in God.
But what do you do when your entire life changes in a matter of a few unexpected minutes? My soul literally aches, and I want to cry, cry my eyes out... I want to cry, but the tears don't come, which I don't understand. When I cry, I feel so much better afterwards. I feel like it's similar to when you are sick... you want to puke, you feel like puking, but something inside of you doesn't let it happen and you hold it down for as long as you can... then finally, unexpectedly, it all comes shooting out and you've puked, and you feel so much better. I just need to cry, but I can't... and I'm waiting for something to trigger that and let those emotions spill out.
I also don't want to be alone, and I feel so alone right now. So, incredibly alone. And although I am constantly surrounded by all of these people who love me and have been treating me so well, I still somehow feel so terribly lonesome. I feel like I will never be the same person, and I hate that. I want to be the same Erika, because I LOVE the old Erika. I love how trustworthy I was of EVERYONE. I loved how accepting I was, and how much I loved everyone no matter who they were or who they came from. But all people have done my entire life, and especially this past year, is show me that I can't trust...that I have to be so careful, because even the closest of friends will hurt you... even when you are in a situation where you shouldn't have to be in danger, where you should be able to trust the person, he can do things to you that strip you of your innocence and completely turn your life around (in a bad way).
So what can I do? What now? I feel lost. I DON'T KNOW what I can do. I DON'T KNOW what now.
If you don't believe in Christianity, then this might seem rather silly, BUT
If you DO believe in God and the Devil and good and evil and know your Bible, then what gives me faith is this.
Since I was BORN I have been put through obstacles and satan has been trying to bring me down. I was born with a heart murmur and nearly died from other birth complications — and my mother almost died because she was 110 pounds giving birth to a nearly 9 pound baby. Not even two years later, I was diagnosed with spinal meningitis — a killer disease, especially for children. The medicine given is typically a type of penicillin, but I was allergic. The doctors told my mom to be prepared for me to die, and if I did live, I would be blind, deaf and retarded. My mom sat by my caged in hospital bed day and night praying for me, and one day, I was magically cured. To this day, when I check in at that hospital, if there is a nurse who has been working there since 1990, they call me the miracle baby.
My childhood was rather amazing. My family moved around a lot, and I switched schools nearly every year, but this taught me to make friends quickly and that you have to be accepting of everyone if you're going to make it in this world.
My mom hid a lot of things from me and lived with an alcoholic husband for 12 years and going through hell that she says she will never tell me. She doesn't want to scar the image that I have of my father, and she doesn't want to ruin the positive thoughts I have about my childhood.
I was quiet and unassuming. I read books every day. My family was a part of this scary church for a while (that we thankfully got out of)... and within this church they convinced the congregation that it was a SIN for women to wear pants (because it was MENS clothing), we weren't allowed to have a television (not that bad of an idea when I think back on it) and women weren't allowed to cut their hair. This entire "religion" was very belittling to women. I am grateful that my parents were able to cut themselves away from this almost cult... because it's a hard thing to do, and the few people who have ever been in such a situation will tell you that it's not as simple as just not attending a different church (where they actually believe what the Bible says without making up unfounded rules). But that's another blog post for another time.
The point of this whole paragraph is that I was so different as a child. I was so innocent and so intelligent. I was so quiet and so fragile and so mature for such a young child. In second grade, I read all seven books in the Chronicles of Narnia in two weeks.
What kept me from being a complete and total introvert was my little brother. We fought like little luchadors without the cool costumes when we were younger... my brother was smart though, he would verbally taunt me and make fun of me so my mother wouldn't even be paying attention... I knew nothing I would say could possibly irritate him in the way he was irritating me, so I would fight back physically. I once threw a D battery at him from across the room, thinking it would hit him in the stomach, or not at all, but it hit him right in the head. I paid for that. Although, thankfully, things are a lot calmer between my me and my brother now. He sends me flowers when bad things happens, and we are there for each other.
My innocence really started to dwindle away when I was 12 and my parents got divorced. I remember the day I knew it was going to happen. It was the first time I had seen my dad drunk. I didn't know exactly what was going on at the time, but when I look back on it now, I understand, and I understand a small part of everything my mom had suffered through for 12 years. My dad was supposed to be watching me and my brother while my mom was running some errands. I remember my dad put us in the back of the truck and said we needed to go to the gas station... the only time my family went to the gas station was when we actually needed gas, so I was a little confused when my dad parked, went inside, and came back out with a small brown paper sack. I asked him what he had gotten, and almost as if he had expected my constant questioning, he pulled out a candy bar for me without ever revealing what else that bag contained. Once we got to the house, my mom called, wondering where we had been, and by the way my dad was talking, she could tell what was going on (that my dad was extremely drunk) and came to the house as quickly as possible. I just remember her grabbing me and my brother and taking us in the car, away from my dad. We came back hours later, and went into the basement with my mom where she made some phone calls. My dad kept yelling my mom's name so angrily, so different from anything I had ever seen before. He kept saying, "Get off the phone. You're always on the phone. Get the fuck off the phone!" I'd never really heard my dad cuss before either. I was seeing a completely different man — a man my mom had somehow hidden from me for my entire life. He busted into the room we were in, slammed the phone away from my mom, hit her and left the room. She picked the phone back up and called the police, and I had to watch as the police took my dad away. My mom then had to go into hiding for a while, while my brother and I stayed at my aunt and uncle's home — worried, afraid and confused.
This all settled down by the end of the summer. My mom was the best thing that ever happened to my dad, and losing her was a reality check for him. The divorce actually caused my time with my dad to be more quality for the next few years.
That summer after my parents got divorced was a strange one. I questioned every innocent thought I had about the world as a child, but still kept faith. My stay at my aunt and uncle's brought me closer to my cousin Joëlle, who had done nothing but treat my like a mutant freak when I was younger... but she decided to accept me, which made me happier than I think she will ever know, because I had always looked up to her and thought she was so cool, no matter how awful she was to me. That summer she was at my house, or I at hers, all the time. We made these stupid ass music videos to songs most 12-year-olds don't even know (The Crying Game by Boy George anyone?). She showed me how to laugh and how to interact with people. Without meaning to, she was the catalyst to me turning from a freaky introvert into an love-able, humorous, crazy (in a good way) extrovert.
By the end of August, my mom had sat us down and told us she was getting married. Little did I know that this would lead to us moving to Omaha to be with this douche bag and having to move the day before Christmas to the unknown... we left from our beautiful childhood mansion on a farm in Roca (Lincoln), to some ranch-style house in a city I thought was stupid and horrible, but would eventually grow to love. I still remember looking at our huge house with the cathedral-like ceilings that night. The house was empty, except for the giant, beautifully lit Christmas tree that my mother said we simply had to leave because we would be having Christmas at her fiancés house and be putting our presents under HIS tree.
I know my mom was trying to do the right thing and give us a better life, but I was confused and hurt.
It took some time to adjust to Omaha life. My mom ended up breaking off her engagement, realizing it was way too soon and that this guy wasn't everything she had thought he was in the beginning. I was broken... I started at Loveland Elementary HALF WAY through 6th grade... do you know what it's like to try to make friend 1/2 way through the last year of elementary school? Practically impossible... but I did it. Mainly with the help of friends that I still have to this very day — Shannon Linehan, Lindsey Mikkelsen and Annie Ashby. Come to think of it, they were there for me in 6th grade, and they have stuck by my side ever since. I am blessed in so many ways, even if I have been through a lot.
In 8th grade, I fell in love. I know that sounds stupid to a lot of people. but I dated this person from the end of 8th grade until I broke up with him in 11th grade, and I loved him from nearly the beginning of 8th grade until ... well ... there will always be a place for him in my heart. But I didn't completely get over that break-up until the end of senior year. There were a lot of things with this relationship that I went through that I never told anyone... and it traumatized me and I am still scarred... but this person still means a lot to me and I don't want to say anything to make him look bad, or hurt anyone's feelings.
While I was dealing with all of the baggage from that relationship, my dad was slowly dying of cancer. While I was working 40 hours a week, an editor on the newspaper, in band (for some of this time... i quit), french club pres (vice prez? no one knows at this point), key club, service learning council. MLK committee, and a million other things... while being in 9 classes (realize that is about 30+ hours of class a week) nearly all of which were AP and honors courses... and somehow managing to get a 4.0 GPA or very near that every single semester.... I look back and wonder how I did it? Since dad was an hour away, I never got to see him nearly as much as I wanted to. When he died, my world shattered again... and I still haven't completely recovered from that, nor have I recovered from the guilt I have for not spending every waking moment with him when I found out he was going to die.
After that I got involved in a lot of crap I wish I never would have... started my first year of college, started living on my own, and taking on all the responsibilities of an adult in an overwhelmingly short period of time... and that was ok...
But I got introduced, (again by people I TRUSTED), into a scene that ruined my dad and a million other people in my family with drinking and pot, and I have been struggling with that a LOT... although it was a lot worse my first semester of college. By second semester I was calming down, at least with the pot, and only drinking maybe one night a weekend, sometimes not even that... I did have some crazy parties... but I don't regret those. They were fun, and I met a lot of people. I do regret that a lot of these people AGAIN and AGAIN broke my trust by stealing things from me and being disrespectful, but I still continued trusting and believing that deep down all people want to do is good... but so many things point to the opposite of that.
Thankfully, I had my Bible study girls to help keep me on track throughout all of this, and without them and the grace of God, I feel like I very well could be dead right now.
During this school I also let my guard down. I let myself feel some things for people that I shouldn't have let happen. I still don't know if I regret that or not. Maybe I never will know what the right thing to do was. But I'm still pathetically dealing with that, although said problem doesn't even really feel like I problem for me anymore with everything else that has been going on lately... and I guess it was never a problem, because I knew the only solution and the only possible outcome the entire time. What an idiot.
And there have been so many other horrible problems I have dealt with, but I just can't bring myself to say them because it brings the faults of other people to light. Some of the other problems I brought up, were so much worse and so much more complicated than I showed as well, but I don't want to hurt other people and I don't want to make them look foolish, so I won't.
But this summer, I went away to Mexico to just get away from EVERYTHING. I left a lot of emotional CRAP back in the United States, and going away to Mexico was just another way I had of ignoring my problems... and this time... it actually worked. I was having the time of my life. I learned so much Spanish, I made so many friends, I learned about another culture and way of life and learned SO MUCH...
But I had my trust broken again by a stranger. A cab driver. Although, people have told me that they wouldn't share this information and that I should be careful, they are NOT me. I think people should know, and I think people should be careful. And anyone with the same problem as me — being TOO trustworthy — reads this and can learn, then let them learn.
I was taken to an isolated part of Mexico, raped, beaten and robbed and I really don't know how I didn't die... By the grace of God, I made it across six lanes of interstate traffic and 1/2 way up a mountain to a hotel where I somehow, all in Spanish, voiced what had happened to me. I spent two days of hell and tears and illness dealing with this....
And this is why I feel so lost and abandoned and alone right now. I have been dealing with a roller coaster of emotions, and one day I will feel completely different than I do the next.
I am heartbroken...and this time, I don't know if I have the strength to pick up the pieces and compose myself. But I have to. I am strong. And since i was born, evil has been trying to break me, and the way I view this from my Christian perspective, is that if it is worth working this hard to destroy me, but that God has constantly kept me safe, then God must have some really freaking awesome plans for me life... and that I have to stay strong and trust that God will take me where he wants me to go and that I will be an amazing person and accomplish everything he wants and do so much good in this world.... hopefully enough good to somewhat make up for all the evil there is.... I want to show people that even though there are so many bad, hurtful, evil things, that there is so much to this world — so, so, so many beautiful things and so many things worth living for.
No matter how many times you have been hurt and heartbroken or near death, there is always something to live for. There is something new to be learned every day. And there are beautiful things that come out of even the darkest situations — and I hope that my life is a living testimony to that.
The thing is, I think for the past few days I have been in shock. I didn't know what to feel. I thought, "Ok, this happened, it was bad, but you are strong. You can move on from this so easily." And since it happened, I have been constantly surrounding myself with people. Not wanting to be alone. Laughing. Playing in the sun. Cooking. Enjoying all the things I missed at home... but this morning, reality sunk in. I am at home. I'm back to this routine, and I'm finally realizing that I need to deal with my emotions. I can't just laugh away my problems — that's just a temporary relief mechanism of mine.
I have problems. I ignore my emotions a lot. I do this because I think I am strong enough to forget and move on without actually facing the problem. I try to not think about my feelings toward what happened for more than a day or two... and with some of the traumatic things I have been through, that's just not right. I screwed up. I've screwed up my emotions for possibly the rest of my life by not wanting to deal with things the right way... but I don't know what the RIGHT way is. It's probably different for every person... so what is right for me? I think the only reason I have been able to get through any of the things I've been through at all is because of my faith in God.
But what do you do when your entire life changes in a matter of a few unexpected minutes? My soul literally aches, and I want to cry, cry my eyes out... I want to cry, but the tears don't come, which I don't understand. When I cry, I feel so much better afterwards. I feel like it's similar to when you are sick... you want to puke, you feel like puking, but something inside of you doesn't let it happen and you hold it down for as long as you can... then finally, unexpectedly, it all comes shooting out and you've puked, and you feel so much better. I just need to cry, but I can't... and I'm waiting for something to trigger that and let those emotions spill out.
I also don't want to be alone, and I feel so alone right now. So, incredibly alone. And although I am constantly surrounded by all of these people who love me and have been treating me so well, I still somehow feel so terribly lonesome. I feel like I will never be the same person, and I hate that. I want to be the same Erika, because I LOVE the old Erika. I love how trustworthy I was of EVERYONE. I loved how accepting I was, and how much I loved everyone no matter who they were or who they came from. But all people have done my entire life, and especially this past year, is show me that I can't trust...that I have to be so careful, because even the closest of friends will hurt you... even when you are in a situation where you shouldn't have to be in danger, where you should be able to trust the person, he can do things to you that strip you of your innocence and completely turn your life around (in a bad way).
So what can I do? What now? I feel lost. I DON'T KNOW what I can do. I DON'T KNOW what now.
If you don't believe in Christianity, then this might seem rather silly, BUT
If you DO believe in God and the Devil and good and evil and know your Bible, then what gives me faith is this.
Since I was BORN I have been put through obstacles and satan has been trying to bring me down. I was born with a heart murmur and nearly died from other birth complications — and my mother almost died because she was 110 pounds giving birth to a nearly 9 pound baby. Not even two years later, I was diagnosed with spinal meningitis — a killer disease, especially for children. The medicine given is typically a type of penicillin, but I was allergic. The doctors told my mom to be prepared for me to die, and if I did live, I would be blind, deaf and retarded. My mom sat by my caged in hospital bed day and night praying for me, and one day, I was magically cured. To this day, when I check in at that hospital, if there is a nurse who has been working there since 1990, they call me the miracle baby.
My childhood was rather amazing. My family moved around a lot, and I switched schools nearly every year, but this taught me to make friends quickly and that you have to be accepting of everyone if you're going to make it in this world.
My mom hid a lot of things from me and lived with an alcoholic husband for 12 years and going through hell that she says she will never tell me. She doesn't want to scar the image that I have of my father, and she doesn't want to ruin the positive thoughts I have about my childhood.
I was quiet and unassuming. I read books every day. My family was a part of this scary church for a while (that we thankfully got out of)... and within this church they convinced the congregation that it was a SIN for women to wear pants (because it was MENS clothing), we weren't allowed to have a television (not that bad of an idea when I think back on it) and women weren't allowed to cut their hair. This entire "religion" was very belittling to women. I am grateful that my parents were able to cut themselves away from this almost cult... because it's a hard thing to do, and the few people who have ever been in such a situation will tell you that it's not as simple as just not attending a different church (where they actually believe what the Bible says without making up unfounded rules). But that's another blog post for another time.
The point of this whole paragraph is that I was so different as a child. I was so innocent and so intelligent. I was so quiet and so fragile and so mature for such a young child. In second grade, I read all seven books in the Chronicles of Narnia in two weeks.
What kept me from being a complete and total introvert was my little brother. We fought like little luchadors without the cool costumes when we were younger... my brother was smart though, he would verbally taunt me and make fun of me so my mother wouldn't even be paying attention... I knew nothing I would say could possibly irritate him in the way he was irritating me, so I would fight back physically. I once threw a D battery at him from across the room, thinking it would hit him in the stomach, or not at all, but it hit him right in the head. I paid for that. Although, thankfully, things are a lot calmer between my me and my brother now. He sends me flowers when bad things happens, and we are there for each other.
My innocence really started to dwindle away when I was 12 and my parents got divorced. I remember the day I knew it was going to happen. It was the first time I had seen my dad drunk. I didn't know exactly what was going on at the time, but when I look back on it now, I understand, and I understand a small part of everything my mom had suffered through for 12 years. My dad was supposed to be watching me and my brother while my mom was running some errands. I remember my dad put us in the back of the truck and said we needed to go to the gas station... the only time my family went to the gas station was when we actually needed gas, so I was a little confused when my dad parked, went inside, and came back out with a small brown paper sack. I asked him what he had gotten, and almost as if he had expected my constant questioning, he pulled out a candy bar for me without ever revealing what else that bag contained. Once we got to the house, my mom called, wondering where we had been, and by the way my dad was talking, she could tell what was going on (that my dad was extremely drunk) and came to the house as quickly as possible. I just remember her grabbing me and my brother and taking us in the car, away from my dad. We came back hours later, and went into the basement with my mom where she made some phone calls. My dad kept yelling my mom's name so angrily, so different from anything I had ever seen before. He kept saying, "Get off the phone. You're always on the phone. Get the fuck off the phone!" I'd never really heard my dad cuss before either. I was seeing a completely different man — a man my mom had somehow hidden from me for my entire life. He busted into the room we were in, slammed the phone away from my mom, hit her and left the room. She picked the phone back up and called the police, and I had to watch as the police took my dad away. My mom then had to go into hiding for a while, while my brother and I stayed at my aunt and uncle's home — worried, afraid and confused.
This all settled down by the end of the summer. My mom was the best thing that ever happened to my dad, and losing her was a reality check for him. The divorce actually caused my time with my dad to be more quality for the next few years.
That summer after my parents got divorced was a strange one. I questioned every innocent thought I had about the world as a child, but still kept faith. My stay at my aunt and uncle's brought me closer to my cousin Joëlle, who had done nothing but treat my like a mutant freak when I was younger... but she decided to accept me, which made me happier than I think she will ever know, because I had always looked up to her and thought she was so cool, no matter how awful she was to me. That summer she was at my house, or I at hers, all the time. We made these stupid ass music videos to songs most 12-year-olds don't even know (The Crying Game by Boy George anyone?). She showed me how to laugh and how to interact with people. Without meaning to, she was the catalyst to me turning from a freaky introvert into an love-able, humorous, crazy (in a good way) extrovert.
By the end of August, my mom had sat us down and told us she was getting married. Little did I know that this would lead to us moving to Omaha to be with this douche bag and having to move the day before Christmas to the unknown... we left from our beautiful childhood mansion on a farm in Roca (Lincoln), to some ranch-style house in a city I thought was stupid and horrible, but would eventually grow to love. I still remember looking at our huge house with the cathedral-like ceilings that night. The house was empty, except for the giant, beautifully lit Christmas tree that my mother said we simply had to leave because we would be having Christmas at her fiancés house and be putting our presents under HIS tree.
I know my mom was trying to do the right thing and give us a better life, but I was confused and hurt.
It took some time to adjust to Omaha life. My mom ended up breaking off her engagement, realizing it was way too soon and that this guy wasn't everything she had thought he was in the beginning. I was broken... I started at Loveland Elementary HALF WAY through 6th grade... do you know what it's like to try to make friend 1/2 way through the last year of elementary school? Practically impossible... but I did it. Mainly with the help of friends that I still have to this very day — Shannon Linehan, Lindsey Mikkelsen and Annie Ashby. Come to think of it, they were there for me in 6th grade, and they have stuck by my side ever since. I am blessed in so many ways, even if I have been through a lot.
In 8th grade, I fell in love. I know that sounds stupid to a lot of people. but I dated this person from the end of 8th grade until I broke up with him in 11th grade, and I loved him from nearly the beginning of 8th grade until ... well ... there will always be a place for him in my heart. But I didn't completely get over that break-up until the end of senior year. There were a lot of things with this relationship that I went through that I never told anyone... and it traumatized me and I am still scarred... but this person still means a lot to me and I don't want to say anything to make him look bad, or hurt anyone's feelings.
While I was dealing with all of the baggage from that relationship, my dad was slowly dying of cancer. While I was working 40 hours a week, an editor on the newspaper, in band (for some of this time... i quit), french club pres (vice prez? no one knows at this point), key club, service learning council. MLK committee, and a million other things... while being in 9 classes (realize that is about 30+ hours of class a week) nearly all of which were AP and honors courses... and somehow managing to get a 4.0 GPA or very near that every single semester.... I look back and wonder how I did it? Since dad was an hour away, I never got to see him nearly as much as I wanted to. When he died, my world shattered again... and I still haven't completely recovered from that, nor have I recovered from the guilt I have for not spending every waking moment with him when I found out he was going to die.
After that I got involved in a lot of crap I wish I never would have... started my first year of college, started living on my own, and taking on all the responsibilities of an adult in an overwhelmingly short period of time... and that was ok...
But I got introduced, (again by people I TRUSTED), into a scene that ruined my dad and a million other people in my family with drinking and pot, and I have been struggling with that a LOT... although it was a lot worse my first semester of college. By second semester I was calming down, at least with the pot, and only drinking maybe one night a weekend, sometimes not even that... I did have some crazy parties... but I don't regret those. They were fun, and I met a lot of people. I do regret that a lot of these people AGAIN and AGAIN broke my trust by stealing things from me and being disrespectful, but I still continued trusting and believing that deep down all people want to do is good... but so many things point to the opposite of that.
Thankfully, I had my Bible study girls to help keep me on track throughout all of this, and without them and the grace of God, I feel like I very well could be dead right now.
During this school I also let my guard down. I let myself feel some things for people that I shouldn't have let happen. I still don't know if I regret that or not. Maybe I never will know what the right thing to do was. But I'm still pathetically dealing with that, although said problem doesn't even really feel like I problem for me anymore with everything else that has been going on lately... and I guess it was never a problem, because I knew the only solution and the only possible outcome the entire time. What an idiot.
And there have been so many other horrible problems I have dealt with, but I just can't bring myself to say them because it brings the faults of other people to light. Some of the other problems I brought up, were so much worse and so much more complicated than I showed as well, but I don't want to hurt other people and I don't want to make them look foolish, so I won't.
But this summer, I went away to Mexico to just get away from EVERYTHING. I left a lot of emotional CRAP back in the United States, and going away to Mexico was just another way I had of ignoring my problems... and this time... it actually worked. I was having the time of my life. I learned so much Spanish, I made so many friends, I learned about another culture and way of life and learned SO MUCH...
But I had my trust broken again by a stranger. A cab driver. Although, people have told me that they wouldn't share this information and that I should be careful, they are NOT me. I think people should know, and I think people should be careful. And anyone with the same problem as me — being TOO trustworthy — reads this and can learn, then let them learn.
I was taken to an isolated part of Mexico, raped, beaten and robbed and I really don't know how I didn't die... By the grace of God, I made it across six lanes of interstate traffic and 1/2 way up a mountain to a hotel where I somehow, all in Spanish, voiced what had happened to me. I spent two days of hell and tears and illness dealing with this....
And this is why I feel so lost and abandoned and alone right now. I have been dealing with a roller coaster of emotions, and one day I will feel completely different than I do the next.
I am heartbroken...and this time, I don't know if I have the strength to pick up the pieces and compose myself. But I have to. I am strong. And since i was born, evil has been trying to break me, and the way I view this from my Christian perspective, is that if it is worth working this hard to destroy me, but that God has constantly kept me safe, then God must have some really freaking awesome plans for me life... and that I have to stay strong and trust that God will take me where he wants me to go and that I will be an amazing person and accomplish everything he wants and do so much good in this world.... hopefully enough good to somewhat make up for all the evil there is.... I want to show people that even though there are so many bad, hurtful, evil things, that there is so much to this world — so, so, so many beautiful things and so many things worth living for.
No matter how many times you have been hurt and heartbroken or near death, there is always something to live for. There is something new to be learned every day. And there are beautiful things that come out of even the darkest situations — and I hope that my life is a living testimony to that.
29.6.08
... nunca lo mismo ...
I don't think anyone could possibly understand what I am feeling right now... and I guess that's ok. How could they? Most people only see stuff like what happened to me on TV...
It's just funny how one day you think you have all these problems... and then something so huge happens, that all of those problems explode and cease to matter... or even really exist.
Any innocence I had left has been stripped of me, and I am picking up the pieces slowly...
But it's things like this that make you realize how many people love you and really would do anything for you, and for that I am so grateful.
I can't stop thinking about all that I've been through the past few days, and I wish I could stop.
I want to go back to Querétaro and reverse the one bad thing that happened so I could be with all the people there I grew to love!
I feel like after something so traumatizing, I should have something deep, dark, philosophical and emotionally moving... but I have spent almost 2 days crying... and I really feel completely emotionless right now... like I do not know what to feel... I don't know what's normal... and I don't know what to do to get my life back to normal except to pretend like everything IS normal... and laugh. I love to laugh, and every chance I've had to make a joke, I've made it... I think people don't know what to do... but laugh, really do it, because it makes me feel so much better.
I'm going to go to the gym and pound away at the machines. That makes me feel better, too!
And chocolate cake. And cooking dinner. And being with my friends and getting hugs and having people tell me the love me.
I guess this post is mainly just to say thank you to everyone... and let you know that I am doing ok... and to continue to pray for me... and talk to me! I don't want to get lonely and have even more time to think about all the shit that happened. :) :)
I feel like only my close friends/family read this... but if it's other people as well, I'm sorry that you might not know what I am talking about, but I'd prefer to leave it at this for now...
I'm so grateful for you all... and right now I really miss three certain people who cannot be with me... :( i wish you could... Oh, how the impossibility of things makes you want them so much more.
I miss speaking Spanish already! So talk to me in Spanish! hahaha
It's just funny how one day you think you have all these problems... and then something so huge happens, that all of those problems explode and cease to matter... or even really exist.
Any innocence I had left has been stripped of me, and I am picking up the pieces slowly...
But it's things like this that make you realize how many people love you and really would do anything for you, and for that I am so grateful.
I can't stop thinking about all that I've been through the past few days, and I wish I could stop.
I want to go back to Querétaro and reverse the one bad thing that happened so I could be with all the people there I grew to love!
I feel like after something so traumatizing, I should have something deep, dark, philosophical and emotionally moving... but I have spent almost 2 days crying... and I really feel completely emotionless right now... like I do not know what to feel... I don't know what's normal... and I don't know what to do to get my life back to normal except to pretend like everything IS normal... and laugh. I love to laugh, and every chance I've had to make a joke, I've made it... I think people don't know what to do... but laugh, really do it, because it makes me feel so much better.
I'm going to go to the gym and pound away at the machines. That makes me feel better, too!
And chocolate cake. And cooking dinner. And being with my friends and getting hugs and having people tell me the love me.
I guess this post is mainly just to say thank you to everyone... and let you know that I am doing ok... and to continue to pray for me... and talk to me! I don't want to get lonely and have even more time to think about all the shit that happened. :) :)
I feel like only my close friends/family read this... but if it's other people as well, I'm sorry that you might not know what I am talking about, but I'd prefer to leave it at this for now...
I'm so grateful for you all... and right now I really miss three certain people who cannot be with me... :( i wish you could... Oh, how the impossibility of things makes you want them so much more.
I miss speaking Spanish already! So talk to me in Spanish! hahaha
15.6.08
p.y.h.o.u.h.&.t.m...i.a.o. ... I won't believe you until you do...
Two notes:
1.) People shouldn't ever assume that I am writing about them. Ask me before deciding that... Thank you.
2.) If you know what my title means, then we are probably soul mates... and don't make fun of me for how incredibly tacky it is.
Anyway, this is a strongly-edited version/excerpt of some thoughts I had on the drive from Mexico City to Querétaro today.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Sometimes I wish I could take photographs with my eyes — or with my mind. I seem to see these beautiful things sometimes, but they rarely translate to film or to a digital image the way the picture in my head is. This leads me to sadly believe that, maybe sometimes, these breathtaking things are only beautiful as they are happening — and as my mind perceives it in that moment. You can't reproduce the feel of the wind blowing your hair against your face as you watch the setting sun out the window on the interstate, nor the feeling you had the last time your dad brushed his hands through your hair and told you he loved you — you can never truly reproduce any moment of your life. Although, in some cases, this may be good. The trouble is, since two people have left me, the only place my mind finds to wonder are to times when I was with them.
I find myself daydreaming of moments that I should never think of again, because they are a sickening reminder of things I want so badly, that can never be. Just because people die, people go away — or, my least favorite, "It's just not practical." Since when does practicality have anything to do with right and wrong? Nonetheless, there's nothing you can do to stop it or make yourself feel better. You just have to trust that God knows what he's doing with your life, and that someday it will all run its course and make sense.
And, well, I do believe this. But there are so many times where I wish I could go back and relive certain moments of my life again. I wouldn't change anything, I just want to relive those certain special moments. Especially the seemingly small moments that I didn't realize until later meant the entire world to me.
I'd put myself back in that car on the highway as the sun set. Instead of concentrating on the road, or being upset, I would have concentrated on what was going on inside of that car..................................................the important things, not the petty, silly, stupid things I was thinking about at the time. And I'd actually talk to the person next to me, instead of just playing the ignorant fool... Actually, I wasn't acting. I WAS an ignorant fool.
Or I'd put myself in the backyard at Manchester, lying on my back in the grass, with my dad, where we watched and counted the number of monarchs in the sky. 1,2,3...12. The dandelions shed their feathery petals in the air and the summer sun beat down on our skin. But this was our moment, and the way he looked at my 5-year-old self and tugged me closer to him has never left my thoughts. We continued to count. 13,14,15... but I used to be much more intelligent. Counting numbers at the age of five was far too easy for me, and I told my father so. "Oh, yeah? Prove it!" he jested. So, I began doing my times tables...all the way up to 10...and my dad listened to me, helping me on the rare occasions when I stumbled (8*4=32 and 9*7=63). When I finally got to 10*10=100, he began tickling me and telling me that I should skip my school and go straight to college. It seems strange, but I’m not sure if I have ever felt that adored since then in my entire life… and sometimes I wonder if I ever will be.
And the two people with whom I will never have the relationship I once had, are gone. And they are the two people I daydream about the most, and the two people who have changed and shaped me without meaning to. I was like a thin, glass vase — I was so fragile, but I have been broken, twice (well, thrice, but one of those events is way too far in the past to be mentioned). Although, I had dealt with difficult scratches before, nothing had completely broken me as these 2/3 events had... (Sheesh, I am making this horrible metaphor/simile/analogy-thing awfully confusing)
But I am not your ordinary vase; instead of waiting for someone else to come and shittly glue my pieces back together for me, I have, since 2005, been picking up the pieces and starting to mend myself. And I’m not using glue this time (a temporary repair), I have melted my glass, gone to the fire and am finally ready to be blown into something better… because I am strong, independent and can do everything on my own — or so I like to tell myself...
1.) People shouldn't ever assume that I am writing about them. Ask me before deciding that... Thank you.
2.) If you know what my title means, then we are probably soul mates... and don't make fun of me for how incredibly tacky it is.
Anyway, this is a strongly-edited version/excerpt of some thoughts I had on the drive from Mexico City to Querétaro today.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Sometimes I wish I could take photographs with my eyes — or with my mind. I seem to see these beautiful things sometimes, but they rarely translate to film or to a digital image the way the picture in my head is. This leads me to sadly believe that, maybe sometimes, these breathtaking things are only beautiful as they are happening — and as my mind perceives it in that moment. You can't reproduce the feel of the wind blowing your hair against your face as you watch the setting sun out the window on the interstate, nor the feeling you had the last time your dad brushed his hands through your hair and told you he loved you — you can never truly reproduce any moment of your life. Although, in some cases, this may be good. The trouble is, since two people have left me, the only place my mind finds to wonder are to times when I was with them.
I find myself daydreaming of moments that I should never think of again, because they are a sickening reminder of things I want so badly, that can never be. Just because people die, people go away — or, my least favorite, "It's just not practical." Since when does practicality have anything to do with right and wrong? Nonetheless, there's nothing you can do to stop it or make yourself feel better. You just have to trust that God knows what he's doing with your life, and that someday it will all run its course and make sense.
And, well, I do believe this. But there are so many times where I wish I could go back and relive certain moments of my life again. I wouldn't change anything, I just want to relive those certain special moments. Especially the seemingly small moments that I didn't realize until later meant the entire world to me.
I'd put myself back in that car on the highway as the sun set. Instead of concentrating on the road, or being upset, I would have concentrated on what was going on inside of that car..................................................the important things, not the petty, silly, stupid things I was thinking about at the time. And I'd actually talk to the person next to me, instead of just playing the ignorant fool... Actually, I wasn't acting. I WAS an ignorant fool.
Or I'd put myself in the backyard at Manchester, lying on my back in the grass, with my dad, where we watched and counted the number of monarchs in the sky. 1,2,3...12. The dandelions shed their feathery petals in the air and the summer sun beat down on our skin. But this was our moment, and the way he looked at my 5-year-old self and tugged me closer to him has never left my thoughts. We continued to count. 13,14,15... but I used to be much more intelligent. Counting numbers at the age of five was far too easy for me, and I told my father so. "Oh, yeah? Prove it!" he jested. So, I began doing my times tables...all the way up to 10...and my dad listened to me, helping me on the rare occasions when I stumbled (8*4=32 and 9*7=63). When I finally got to 10*10=100, he began tickling me and telling me that I should skip my school and go straight to college. It seems strange, but I’m not sure if I have ever felt that adored since then in my entire life… and sometimes I wonder if I ever will be.
And the two people with whom I will never have the relationship I once had, are gone. And they are the two people I daydream about the most, and the two people who have changed and shaped me without meaning to. I was like a thin, glass vase — I was so fragile, but I have been broken, twice (well, thrice, but one of those events is way too far in the past to be mentioned). Although, I had dealt with difficult scratches before, nothing had completely broken me as these 2/3 events had... (Sheesh, I am making this horrible metaphor/simile/analogy-thing awfully confusing)
But I am not your ordinary vase; instead of waiting for someone else to come and shittly glue my pieces back together for me, I have, since 2005, been picking up the pieces and starting to mend myself. And I’m not using glue this time (a temporary repair), I have melted my glass, gone to the fire and am finally ready to be blown into something better… because I am strong, independent and can do everything on my own — or so I like to tell myself...
21.5.08
The hunchback has no plan...
I didn't want that candy or the stupid ring.
I don't like any of those things. If you would have ever just listened to me, you would have known that.
But you are a selfish little cricket!!!
You never really listen to me, and somehow always find a way to bring the conversation back to yourself.
All things done at your convenience.
Everything else about you seems so magnificent, but as with all epic heros, you have a tragic flaw.
What causes me to be so dismal is that your fatal flaw happens to be one of the worst tragic flaws of all!
How can a hero be a hero if he or she is always thinking of him or herself?
I could stand no where near you when it comes to characteristics that would define one as a "hero", and I am in no way trying to praise myself...
But what a multitude of things I did for you!!!!! And I did them with little love, respect, gratitude or reciprocation of any sort!!!!!!
And I continue to do these things with the same casual, almost rude, response.
I didn't even need tangible reciprocation, that wasn't ever what I asked for. In fact, I don't believe I ever asked anything of you, save small favors that also had some benefit in them for YOURSELF.
All I wanted was a, "Hey, you are really great and good to me. I appreciate that so much. Thank you, 'ka!"
or a...
"Hey, let me buy dinner tonight since you are always doing so much."
::Sigh::
I hate when people who read my blog try to figure out who/what I am talking about, and I am not going to let that ever happen. I hate putting names on blogs, I hate divulging info like that about my life to people who shouldn't know those things... and thirdly....
perhaps that's all hypothetical, or perhaps it's to multiple people who i feel that way about.... or maybe it IS just about one person who i think that about.........
lots of maybes, but a sure-fire fact is that you will never know what I mean... and when I look back on this in 20 years, I will probably not know what I meant either.
------------------------
Enough of that. It was just an insignificant rant that most likely does not pertain to you at all, but it needed to be set free from the heavy bondage it placed in my rapidly-beating heart.
------------------------
I began writing this to/about a friend yesterday, and I would like to continue that here.
------------------------
Here it goes.....
------------------------
One night as I went to sleep, I dreamt of a gorgeous, but elusive, young lady.
In every hauntingly beautiful scene of my dream, she would appear.
In the daytime, the light from the sun would cast exotic shadows on to fields of Gerber daisies through the multiple-layered sheer frock she wore — it clung to her tiny body as she danced, oh, so delicately, around the earth.
In the hours of the late night, her fragile silhouette would be project onto the moon as she quietly waltzed around the enchanted forest of inverness, leaving behind her trails of ripe raspberries and satin sparkles.
At one point in this heavenly dream, 'twas nearing dawn, but most of the darkness of night was still upon us. A cool, fresh mist was in the air, and you could feel that the sun would soon peak one of its rays out over the horizon.
I was on my way back to the village from visiting my dear friend, Monsieur DeuFaulde, and decided to take the scenic route home through said enchanted forest...
This evening was different from other evenings with M. DeuFaulde, and how difficult it was proving to hold back the pain and tears! And how ironic it was that, in my time of sorrow, I would happen to come upon a tree that went along with my attitude so well — especially as it was a tree uncommon to the part of the world in which I was traveling. I was sort of nomad at the time.
I stopped momentarily near the weeping willow — a willow so weepy in fact, that its branches were sweeping the soft, dark ground.
I looked to the North-East at the young luminescent moon for comfort.....
joy of joys, it is time for bed!
more later! AHHH!!! bet you can't wait ;)
I don't like any of those things. If you would have ever just listened to me, you would have known that.
But you are a selfish little cricket!!!
You never really listen to me, and somehow always find a way to bring the conversation back to yourself.
All things done at your convenience.
Everything else about you seems so magnificent, but as with all epic heros, you have a tragic flaw.
What causes me to be so dismal is that your fatal flaw happens to be one of the worst tragic flaws of all!
How can a hero be a hero if he or she is always thinking of him or herself?
I could stand no where near you when it comes to characteristics that would define one as a "hero", and I am in no way trying to praise myself...
But what a multitude of things I did for you!!!!! And I did them with little love, respect, gratitude or reciprocation of any sort!!!!!!
And I continue to do these things with the same casual, almost rude, response.
I didn't even need tangible reciprocation, that wasn't ever what I asked for. In fact, I don't believe I ever asked anything of you, save small favors that also had some benefit in them for YOURSELF.
All I wanted was a, "Hey, you are really great and good to me. I appreciate that so much. Thank you, 'ka!"
or a...
"Hey, let me buy dinner tonight since you are always doing so much."
::Sigh::
I hate when people who read my blog try to figure out who/what I am talking about, and I am not going to let that ever happen. I hate putting names on blogs, I hate divulging info like that about my life to people who shouldn't know those things... and thirdly....
perhaps that's all hypothetical, or perhaps it's to multiple people who i feel that way about.... or maybe it IS just about one person who i think that about.........
lots of maybes, but a sure-fire fact is that you will never know what I mean... and when I look back on this in 20 years, I will probably not know what I meant either.
------------------------
Enough of that. It was just an insignificant rant that most likely does not pertain to you at all, but it needed to be set free from the heavy bondage it placed in my rapidly-beating heart.
------------------------
I began writing this to/about a friend yesterday, and I would like to continue that here.
------------------------
Here it goes.....
------------------------
One night as I went to sleep, I dreamt of a gorgeous, but elusive, young lady.
In every hauntingly beautiful scene of my dream, she would appear.
In the daytime, the light from the sun would cast exotic shadows on to fields of Gerber daisies through the multiple-layered sheer frock she wore — it clung to her tiny body as she danced, oh, so delicately, around the earth.
In the hours of the late night, her fragile silhouette would be project onto the moon as she quietly waltzed around the enchanted forest of inverness, leaving behind her trails of ripe raspberries and satin sparkles.
At one point in this heavenly dream, 'twas nearing dawn, but most of the darkness of night was still upon us. A cool, fresh mist was in the air, and you could feel that the sun would soon peak one of its rays out over the horizon.
I was on my way back to the village from visiting my dear friend, Monsieur DeuFaulde, and decided to take the scenic route home through said enchanted forest...
This evening was different from other evenings with M. DeuFaulde, and how difficult it was proving to hold back the pain and tears! And how ironic it was that, in my time of sorrow, I would happen to come upon a tree that went along with my attitude so well — especially as it was a tree uncommon to the part of the world in which I was traveling. I was sort of nomad at the time.
I stopped momentarily near the weeping willow — a willow so weepy in fact, that its branches were sweeping the soft, dark ground.
I looked to the North-East at the young luminescent moon for comfort.....
joy of joys, it is time for bed!
more later! AHHH!!! bet you can't wait ;)
17.5.08
Never the Same
Nothing is the same here in Omaha.
Nothing is the same in Lincoln.
The two cities I have gone back and forth from, calling each of them home for years, have become so unfamiliar and strange — especially Omaha.
Omaha contains memories of a past me, a me that I will never be again. When I am here, I feel like I am forcing myself back into a time and place that I don't fit in or belong in anymore.
It's weird to see all these people whose lives you were once such a large part of — yet, while you were busy with your own schedule, their lives went on as well. You missed so much that it's hard to become a part of their life again, it's hard to fully understand where the other has been, and it's hard to overcome the new differences.
Whenever I am here in Omaha, every place I go and every person I meet up with screams of my past...
I love my past, and I love these people and places, but the feeling is not the same. None of us, none of these places, are really the same. Even a short year can change things so much...
A year has allowed me to make Lincoln my new home. No longer do I feel like I belong in Omaha mostly, but I feel as if I am a true Lincolnite....
But now so many of my friends that I made this year in Lincoln are gone.
Transferring to different schools, moving back to Omaha, or many exchange students who have returned to their homelands — leaving Erika, a poor, pathetic mess of a girl.
Don't get me wrong, I have plenty of friends left at Lincoln, but things just won't be the same as they were this past school year.... especially the last semester....
It seems every time I get really comfortable and start to love where I am, everything changes and I have to readjust.
Maybe that's a good thing....then I can never get too comfortable, and I appreciate what I have when I have it.
Everything is still so strange to me though.
I had an appointment at the University Health Center on Tuesday. Instead of driving to U St. and parking, my instinct drove me to S Street where Selleck is. I got out of my car, and I began to walk to Selleck...then I thought to myself, "Where are you going? The Health Center is the other way."
What a depressing moment.
My mind took me to the Health Center...but my heart is at Selleck!
Whatever.
All of this is hurting my little heart more than I thought it would...
but only some days..... somedays suck and I am quite depressed. Other days, I am so glad and think things definitely worked out for the better. Obviously, today is one of those nostalgic days.
I feel so pathetic as usual...
There are like 2 people who read this regularly.....
And they are kind of awkward people.
awkward because it's weird for certain relatives to read this and think that I am super emo and never happy and complain all the time......
and awkward because I often elude(d) to things and feelings about another person who supposedly reads this with some frequency.
So, hello...........
I am not emo. I do not complain like this on a daily basis....
It's just my blog, and whenever I want to write my feelings, it's usually when I am in a bad mood and need to vent!
When I am joyous (most of the time!!) I portray my ecstasy verbally and through my actions.
I got my lip cyst removed Thursday. Delicioso!
It was the grossest experience of my life.
I sat in this uncomfortable chair with two doctors pulling my lips...
Then Dr. Olson sprayed this nasty numbing disinfectant spray on my lips...then he shot me with enough novocain to numb my entire freaking face.
As soon as that was settled, the weird Indian nurse lady set out a bunch of weird surgical tools and like 300 different kinds of scissors...and lots and lots and lots of gauze to stop the bleeding and large accumulation of bloody saliva that would surely build up throughout this surgery.
Then Dr. Olson pick up this knife and slices my lip open and just starts jabbing around. "Oh, wow! This thing is the size of a marble! We'll have to send this to the lab to be sure it's not malignant."
Me in my head: "Thank you for not freaking me out while I am awake watching my lip being cut open"
He pried around for such a long time. And all I could see out of the corners of my eyes were 4 really bloody latex gloves, part of my lip, lots and lots of bloody gauze, lots of surgical tools, and bloody scissors.
Dr. Olson started snipping out the cyst... "These scissors are too dull... nurse, get me some different ones" so she gives him some more.... still not working that well... so he decides he should try burning off the cyst.... with this like really heated mini-knife thing....
So I have the taste blood in my mouth, I am watching my mouth be cut open, I can see tons and tons of blood... and then along with it, I get to smell my own flesh burning. Wonderful.
He finally got the cyst out...and he just set it down like a cute little puppy or something on the table for the surgical tools... so the entire time he is stitching me up, I had to look directly at my marble-sized lip cyst, covered in blood. Absolutely, positively, wonderfully disgusting.
Having your lips sewed/stitched is a really weird feeling.
Anyway.......
I thought the surgery wouldn't be that big of a deal, but it hurt so badly after the novocain wore off.... I slept off and on from 2:30 p.m. until 9 a.m. Yeah....
that song "no air" just came on my itunes, which is on shuffle.....
ahaha
and you know who that reminds me of.
que triste!
Is it strange that Heartbeats by José Gonzáles can make me cry?
I can't wait to be in Mexico for 7 weeks.
Get me away from this place and from these people.
I also cannot wait for school to start again, so I can start working and planning for my second semester in FRANCE...and then my SUMMER in EUROPE!!!!!
When I will get to visit all of my loves — whom I already miss so dearly.
Nothing is the same in Lincoln.
The two cities I have gone back and forth from, calling each of them home for years, have become so unfamiliar and strange — especially Omaha.
Omaha contains memories of a past me, a me that I will never be again. When I am here, I feel like I am forcing myself back into a time and place that I don't fit in or belong in anymore.
It's weird to see all these people whose lives you were once such a large part of — yet, while you were busy with your own schedule, their lives went on as well. You missed so much that it's hard to become a part of their life again, it's hard to fully understand where the other has been, and it's hard to overcome the new differences.
Whenever I am here in Omaha, every place I go and every person I meet up with screams of my past...
I love my past, and I love these people and places, but the feeling is not the same. None of us, none of these places, are really the same. Even a short year can change things so much...
A year has allowed me to make Lincoln my new home. No longer do I feel like I belong in Omaha mostly, but I feel as if I am a true Lincolnite....
But now so many of my friends that I made this year in Lincoln are gone.
Transferring to different schools, moving back to Omaha, or many exchange students who have returned to their homelands — leaving Erika, a poor, pathetic mess of a girl.
Don't get me wrong, I have plenty of friends left at Lincoln, but things just won't be the same as they were this past school year.... especially the last semester....
It seems every time I get really comfortable and start to love where I am, everything changes and I have to readjust.
Maybe that's a good thing....then I can never get too comfortable, and I appreciate what I have when I have it.
Everything is still so strange to me though.
I had an appointment at the University Health Center on Tuesday. Instead of driving to U St. and parking, my instinct drove me to S Street where Selleck is. I got out of my car, and I began to walk to Selleck...then I thought to myself, "Where are you going? The Health Center is the other way."
What a depressing moment.
My mind took me to the Health Center...but my heart is at Selleck!
Whatever.
All of this is hurting my little heart more than I thought it would...
but only some days..... somedays suck and I am quite depressed. Other days, I am so glad and think things definitely worked out for the better. Obviously, today is one of those nostalgic days.
I feel so pathetic as usual...
There are like 2 people who read this regularly.....
And they are kind of awkward people.
awkward because it's weird for certain relatives to read this and think that I am super emo and never happy and complain all the time......
and awkward because I often elude(d) to things and feelings about another person who supposedly reads this with some frequency.
So, hello...........
I am not emo. I do not complain like this on a daily basis....
It's just my blog, and whenever I want to write my feelings, it's usually when I am in a bad mood and need to vent!
When I am joyous (most of the time!!) I portray my ecstasy verbally and through my actions.
I got my lip cyst removed Thursday. Delicioso!
It was the grossest experience of my life.
I sat in this uncomfortable chair with two doctors pulling my lips...
Then Dr. Olson sprayed this nasty numbing disinfectant spray on my lips...then he shot me with enough novocain to numb my entire freaking face.
As soon as that was settled, the weird Indian nurse lady set out a bunch of weird surgical tools and like 300 different kinds of scissors...and lots and lots and lots of gauze to stop the bleeding and large accumulation of bloody saliva that would surely build up throughout this surgery.
Then Dr. Olson pick up this knife and slices my lip open and just starts jabbing around. "Oh, wow! This thing is the size of a marble! We'll have to send this to the lab to be sure it's not malignant."
Me in my head: "Thank you for not freaking me out while I am awake watching my lip being cut open"
He pried around for such a long time. And all I could see out of the corners of my eyes were 4 really bloody latex gloves, part of my lip, lots and lots of bloody gauze, lots of surgical tools, and bloody scissors.
Dr. Olson started snipping out the cyst... "These scissors are too dull... nurse, get me some different ones" so she gives him some more.... still not working that well... so he decides he should try burning off the cyst.... with this like really heated mini-knife thing....
So I have the taste blood in my mouth, I am watching my mouth be cut open, I can see tons and tons of blood... and then along with it, I get to smell my own flesh burning. Wonderful.
He finally got the cyst out...and he just set it down like a cute little puppy or something on the table for the surgical tools... so the entire time he is stitching me up, I had to look directly at my marble-sized lip cyst, covered in blood. Absolutely, positively, wonderfully disgusting.
Having your lips sewed/stitched is a really weird feeling.
Anyway.......
I thought the surgery wouldn't be that big of a deal, but it hurt so badly after the novocain wore off.... I slept off and on from 2:30 p.m. until 9 a.m. Yeah....
that song "no air" just came on my itunes, which is on shuffle.....
ahaha
and you know who that reminds me of.
que triste!
Is it strange that Heartbeats by José Gonzáles can make me cry?
I can't wait to be in Mexico for 7 weeks.
Get me away from this place and from these people.
I also cannot wait for school to start again, so I can start working and planning for my second semester in FRANCE...and then my SUMMER in EUROPE!!!!!
When I will get to visit all of my loves — whom I already miss so dearly.
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