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...
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.
7.4.08
Without an Umbrella...
I wrote this tonight...sitting in the mud in my white dress....by the riverside....away from the entire world...and it was wonderful.
So I'm sitting outside by the river and it's 11 p.m. It's cold and rainy, and I have never felt so alive. That's what the rain does to me; I love it. So I'm writing this on paper and pen...old school...althought I'm sure it will soon be transposed onto my blog since my handwriting is so awful and I'll want to be able to read this when I am like 80....and laugh at how emo and absurd I was in all my teenage angst.
A kind of eerie feeling has just swept over me...maybe not eerie. It's almost impossible to explain. I just became really nostalgic almost. Sitting here by the river, totally surrounded (almost) by nature... it reminds me of the one completely happy period of my life...and it's strange that it makes me so sad and also strange that I will never get that period of my life back. EVER. I will never again be that little girl playing in the creek with the dog, sitting in a giant tree reading C.S. Lewis (yes, that is what I read from the time I was 7 until....now), baking cookies with my mom, and gardening and doing outdoor work with my dad...those sunny days with my family in the country were beautiful. Perhaps someday I will have a family of my own and get to experience that feeling once more.
But never again will I be able to run to the comfort of my mom and dad's bed when I get scared after watching Pet Cemetery...Gosh, I still am freaked out thinking about that now, out here, by myself in the dark — with nothing around my but vicious nightingales and eerie cattails. But i need to get used to being along — don't I? Because that's the way it is now....and the way it will be for a while. That's ok with me, but there are just certain moments (like now) where it would feel so nice to have someone there, just to take me by the hand and clam me down and say, "Erika, lovely, yeah, there's a lot of shit going on right now, but I'm here for you and you're here for me and in this moment, that's all that matters." I know how horrible corny that is, but nevertheless, anyone would love to hear that from someone they love. Comforting words are always welcome.
And that person could be anyone....not just a lover, however I may have made it sound like that's what I meant.
Sometimes I wish I could just swallow my pride and show some vulnerability long enough for me to tell my mom that I miss her and need her and that I want her to hold me while I just cry...because right now, she's all I have. And she's the only person in the world who would give her life for me (and who practically has given up her entire life for me)...but to do that would mean breaking down and showing that I'm not strong enough to handle any of this shit on my own. I grew up way too fast — and I'm regretting that right now. I don't have a dad and my mom's an hour away and has too much stress of her own to really think about the fact that I have so many problems and adult stresses that I could use her help and guidance with.
I do absolutely EVERYTHING for myself, I really am not trying to talk myself up or make me sound amazing, because I am a awful person most of the time, but I don't know how I handle everything that I do.... three jobs, full-time student, trying to pay all of my bills and not have to take out loans for school, extra-curricular activities, social life, trying to make time for the family too...it's all shit. and on top of all that, I have to worry about things like getting my car repaired and scheduling a surgery for myself and dealing with me horrible health insurance...all this crap that I have no idea what the heck I am doinggg.... then I have all of this emotional shit going on in my head. .... .... and that's the stuff that's really been taking the toll on me.
I've been so confused and hurt lately...by multiple people, events and things.... but there is NO ONE to talk to about this. Honestly, there is really not one person I could be totally honest about myself with and tell them what I've been doing and feeling lately.... no one would want to believe me....... no one would get it ..... and who wants to listen to someone else talk about themselves for so long? No one... I would never subject anyone to that kind of selfishness.
I want one thing right now more than anything — but it's all fucking wrong — AND I KNOW IT. But it doesn't keep me from wanting it — and I would take it even though I know it's the wrong choice. And it would be wonderful for a time, but it would get screwed up way too quickly and I would ache for far too long.... PLUS, I don't even know if I CAN have it...but I'm really damn close and my hands are fucking freezing right now...and my pen is out.......
(of ink)
There's my ultimate emo post! ahahhaah
It's kind of hilarious.
So I'm sitting outside by the river and it's 11 p.m. It's cold and rainy, and I have never felt so alive. That's what the rain does to me; I love it. So I'm writing this on paper and pen...old school...althought I'm sure it will soon be transposed onto my blog since my handwriting is so awful and I'll want to be able to read this when I am like 80....and laugh at how emo and absurd I was in all my teenage angst.
A kind of eerie feeling has just swept over me...maybe not eerie. It's almost impossible to explain. I just became really nostalgic almost. Sitting here by the river, totally surrounded (almost) by nature... it reminds me of the one completely happy period of my life...and it's strange that it makes me so sad and also strange that I will never get that period of my life back. EVER. I will never again be that little girl playing in the creek with the dog, sitting in a giant tree reading C.S. Lewis (yes, that is what I read from the time I was 7 until....now), baking cookies with my mom, and gardening and doing outdoor work with my dad...those sunny days with my family in the country were beautiful. Perhaps someday I will have a family of my own and get to experience that feeling once more.
But never again will I be able to run to the comfort of my mom and dad's bed when I get scared after watching Pet Cemetery...Gosh, I still am freaked out thinking about that now, out here, by myself in the dark — with nothing around my but vicious nightingales and eerie cattails. But i need to get used to being along — don't I? Because that's the way it is now....and the way it will be for a while. That's ok with me, but there are just certain moments (like now) where it would feel so nice to have someone there, just to take me by the hand and clam me down and say, "Erika, lovely, yeah, there's a lot of shit going on right now, but I'm here for you and you're here for me and in this moment, that's all that matters." I know how horrible corny that is, but nevertheless, anyone would love to hear that from someone they love. Comforting words are always welcome.
And that person could be anyone....not just a lover, however I may have made it sound like that's what I meant.
Sometimes I wish I could just swallow my pride and show some vulnerability long enough for me to tell my mom that I miss her and need her and that I want her to hold me while I just cry...because right now, she's all I have. And she's the only person in the world who would give her life for me (and who practically has given up her entire life for me)...but to do that would mean breaking down and showing that I'm not strong enough to handle any of this shit on my own. I grew up way too fast — and I'm regretting that right now. I don't have a dad and my mom's an hour away and has too much stress of her own to really think about the fact that I have so many problems and adult stresses that I could use her help and guidance with.
I do absolutely EVERYTHING for myself, I really am not trying to talk myself up or make me sound amazing, because I am a awful person most of the time, but I don't know how I handle everything that I do.... three jobs, full-time student, trying to pay all of my bills and not have to take out loans for school, extra-curricular activities, social life, trying to make time for the family too...it's all shit. and on top of all that, I have to worry about things like getting my car repaired and scheduling a surgery for myself and dealing with me horrible health insurance...all this crap that I have no idea what the heck I am doinggg.... then I have all of this emotional shit going on in my head. .... .... and that's the stuff that's really been taking the toll on me.
I've been so confused and hurt lately...by multiple people, events and things.... but there is NO ONE to talk to about this. Honestly, there is really not one person I could be totally honest about myself with and tell them what I've been doing and feeling lately.... no one would want to believe me....... no one would get it ..... and who wants to listen to someone else talk about themselves for so long? No one... I would never subject anyone to that kind of selfishness.
I want one thing right now more than anything — but it's all fucking wrong — AND I KNOW IT. But it doesn't keep me from wanting it — and I would take it even though I know it's the wrong choice. And it would be wonderful for a time, but it would get screwed up way too quickly and I would ache for far too long.... PLUS, I don't even know if I CAN have it...but I'm really damn close and my hands are fucking freezing right now...and my pen is out.......
(of ink)
There's my ultimate emo post! ahahhaah
It's kind of hilarious.
6.4.08
Pine cones, barbecues and roadkill snakes
It's a beautiful day, and although I have a million chores to get done in so little time, I have decided to procrastinate (as I typically do) and accomplish things for myself today — like take photos, sit outside, drink lemonade and actually think about things that matter instead of all the useless crap that is always worrying me when it shouldn't.... because in the end, it really doesn't matter whether or not I get an A in my Visual Literacry course or made $10 million, what matters is that I had important life moments.
Sometimes it's easy for me to forget that memories and enjoying life are so much more important than being the paragon of success. But although I have gotten lost in a hectic collegiate world this semester, I have not totally forgotten my life motto. This semester has been one of the most unique, interesting, trying, confusing and wonderful periods of my life. Never have I felt so many strong emotions in one period of time, but I have this semester.
There's a cute little dog in my yard right now. I don't know where she came from, but she's a cutie, and she is eating grass. Dogs eat grass when they are constipated...I hope it does the trick. I can see the years of wear and tear on this mother dog, she deserves to take a crap without having to work for it. But, alas, no one's life is perfect. Not even that of a little weiner dog.
Haha
How do I always end up talking about animals?
Lickity lick...
I have never seen a dog eat grass for so long. This little lady is just grazing like a cow.
Anyway, I would really love to fly a kite today — go to Pioneer's Park like I did when I was little.
I'd also like to do some gardening...I bought some Dahlias, forget-me-nots, strawberries, herbs, etc...
Every year my dad and I used to plant things like that, especially when we lived out in the country. We used to have a strawberry patch, mulberry trees, tomatoes, corn, cucumbers, bleeding hearts, everything... One year I grew potatoes, and I was so excited.
Potatoes are a strange thing. Really, though, they are.
You have to have a lot of faith to plant potatoes because you can't watch the potato grow as it is underground. Yes, there is a green leafy plant that shoots out of the dirt that you can examine, it still does not tell you much about what is underneath all that dirt — and what is under all that dirt is what really matters. If you dig down to get your potatoes too early, they'll be small and puny, too late, and they could be so giant that it takes away from the flavor. Ok, I just made that part up... I don't really know what the hell happens to potatoes if you dig them up too late....but if you dig them up REALLY late... like when there is snow...they might freeze up and die and decay and yeah!! BUT Maybe the cold would keep them preserved? Actually, now that I think about it, you can't really screw up growing potatoes.
This cool analogy I was about to make SUCKS.
Moving on...
I had such an amazing weekend. It has been so gorgeous outside, and I am so blessed to live where I do on the lake.
Friday I went with some friends to the Tugboat art gallery opening — free boxed wine — who can complain?? I took a loved one to Amigo's for the first time ever! Who goes their entire life as a Nebraskan without eating at Shmigs (Amigos)? Then I attended a house party and visited another loved one at her place of occupation (The Mill). What a beautiful young lady she is, too! Honey brown locks of hair, eyes likes those of an innocent doe about to lose it's life to a cruel hunter... or maybe more-so eyes like that of Bambi as he watches his mom die. Anyway, they are fabulous eyes, so full of emotion! And not always so sad like little Bambi, most of the time they are full of joy and life! She would brush her hands up against her dark blue jeans while working, leaving a trail of Cappuccino foam behind, she took a deep breath and turned around to see the line of customers continuously growing longer 15 minutes before close. "This job never ends," she thinks to herself, "don't these idiots realize we close in 15 minutes? Why is no one leaving? Fuck me." But Kate doesn't let her inner thoughts phase her. Instead of yelling, "Get the FUCK OUT, WE'ZE CLOZIN'" She simply turns up the music really loudly and dims the lights. A much politer way of saying exactly the same thing. Soon, the customers begin to slowly clear out. You can tell this steamy barista is carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, but she's not going to let it bring her down!
What the heck was that? I really don't know. I could have gone on forever...but I didn't want to freak Kate out... ahahahah
Saturday was a joyous day. I woke up refreshed at 9 a.m. and got much accomplished — house cleaning, grocery shopping, seeing my grammy, cleaning my dirty body, you know...
Saturday was also what would have been my dad's birthday. So, I bought some flowers to plant for him — just like he and I used to do together every year (as I said earlier).
I then had some people over for a little barbecue. I haven't had a good, relaxing, stress-free evening with friends like that in so long, it was exactly what I needed. Cooking burgers, taking walks down to the river, getting water splashed all over me!, seeing roadkill snakes, jumping in the cold lake late at night, taking a group shower, sippin' wine and coronas, listening to music and enjoying the nice evening with people I love. Perfect. I hope everyone else enjoyed it. :)
Today I will take photos... I am working on a project for someone!!!
This was a strange post.
Sometimes it's easy for me to forget that memories and enjoying life are so much more important than being the paragon of success. But although I have gotten lost in a hectic collegiate world this semester, I have not totally forgotten my life motto. This semester has been one of the most unique, interesting, trying, confusing and wonderful periods of my life. Never have I felt so many strong emotions in one period of time, but I have this semester.
There's a cute little dog in my yard right now. I don't know where she came from, but she's a cutie, and she is eating grass. Dogs eat grass when they are constipated...I hope it does the trick. I can see the years of wear and tear on this mother dog, she deserves to take a crap without having to work for it. But, alas, no one's life is perfect. Not even that of a little weiner dog.
Haha
How do I always end up talking about animals?
Lickity lick...
I have never seen a dog eat grass for so long. This little lady is just grazing like a cow.
Anyway, I would really love to fly a kite today — go to Pioneer's Park like I did when I was little.
I'd also like to do some gardening...I bought some Dahlias, forget-me-nots, strawberries, herbs, etc...
Every year my dad and I used to plant things like that, especially when we lived out in the country. We used to have a strawberry patch, mulberry trees, tomatoes, corn, cucumbers, bleeding hearts, everything... One year I grew potatoes, and I was so excited.
Potatoes are a strange thing. Really, though, they are.
You have to have a lot of faith to plant potatoes because you can't watch the potato grow as it is underground. Yes, there is a green leafy plant that shoots out of the dirt that you can examine, it still does not tell you much about what is underneath all that dirt — and what is under all that dirt is what really matters. If you dig down to get your potatoes too early, they'll be small and puny, too late, and they could be so giant that it takes away from the flavor. Ok, I just made that part up... I don't really know what the hell happens to potatoes if you dig them up too late....but if you dig them up REALLY late... like when there is snow...they might freeze up and die and decay and yeah!! BUT Maybe the cold would keep them preserved? Actually, now that I think about it, you can't really screw up growing potatoes.
This cool analogy I was about to make SUCKS.
Moving on...
I had such an amazing weekend. It has been so gorgeous outside, and I am so blessed to live where I do on the lake.
Friday I went with some friends to the Tugboat art gallery opening — free boxed wine — who can complain?? I took a loved one to Amigo's for the first time ever! Who goes their entire life as a Nebraskan without eating at Shmigs (Amigos)? Then I attended a house party and visited another loved one at her place of occupation (The Mill). What a beautiful young lady she is, too! Honey brown locks of hair, eyes likes those of an innocent doe about to lose it's life to a cruel hunter... or maybe more-so eyes like that of Bambi as he watches his mom die. Anyway, they are fabulous eyes, so full of emotion! And not always so sad like little Bambi, most of the time they are full of joy and life! She would brush her hands up against her dark blue jeans while working, leaving a trail of Cappuccino foam behind, she took a deep breath and turned around to see the line of customers continuously growing longer 15 minutes before close. "This job never ends," she thinks to herself, "don't these idiots realize we close in 15 minutes? Why is no one leaving? Fuck me." But Kate doesn't let her inner thoughts phase her. Instead of yelling, "Get the FUCK OUT, WE'ZE CLOZIN'" She simply turns up the music really loudly and dims the lights. A much politer way of saying exactly the same thing. Soon, the customers begin to slowly clear out. You can tell this steamy barista is carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, but she's not going to let it bring her down!
What the heck was that? I really don't know. I could have gone on forever...but I didn't want to freak Kate out... ahahahah
Saturday was a joyous day. I woke up refreshed at 9 a.m. and got much accomplished — house cleaning, grocery shopping, seeing my grammy, cleaning my dirty body, you know...
Saturday was also what would have been my dad's birthday. So, I bought some flowers to plant for him — just like he and I used to do together every year (as I said earlier).
I then had some people over for a little barbecue. I haven't had a good, relaxing, stress-free evening with friends like that in so long, it was exactly what I needed. Cooking burgers, taking walks down to the river, getting water splashed all over me!, seeing roadkill snakes, jumping in the cold lake late at night, taking a group shower, sippin' wine and coronas, listening to music and enjoying the nice evening with people I love. Perfect. I hope everyone else enjoyed it. :)
Today I will take photos... I am working on a project for someone!!!
This was a strange post.
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