So today I went on a womany-housewifey spree. I made lunch, did the dishes (twice) and the laundry. I even took my comforter and pillows to the laundry mat to wash them in the BIG washing machines. Anyway, proof that I am incompetent in these matters just came out of the dryer. For some reason, I put bleach in the washer with my sheets. My sheets are, excuse me, were black. Anyway, just in case you were ever wondering, bleach turns black sheets into a rusty pinky orangy color, and not consistently, but in giant ink-blot type splotches. So currently I am suppressing anger, frustration, disappointment, and self-loathing. I feel it beginning in my stomach. It is boiling up into my throat, ready to spill over. Breathe in. Breathe out. Or as Senorita Benedum would say, "Step back, take a deep breath, let it go" But now I have to buy some new sheets, because I will get upset everytime I look at my bed. And I cannot afford new sheets just now, although I do enjoy buying new an awful lot. Okay, it is my obsession. Now, don't you go and say that this was sabotage. I do save all my sheets so I can have a variety of bedclothes to choose from. Why would I ruin some? I do hate these black sheets though. They show everything. I am upset. They look SO bad.
AND. . . There is a spider living in my room without my permission! I went to go find someone to kill it and it was gone when I came back. Worse thing, it was over my bed when I left it. Is it on my bed now? What if it crawls in my mouth or nose or ears or hair while I am sleeping? They say people eat bugs in their sleep. Well, Ashley said that I think. *Shudder* How I am supposed to sleep now? Darn it. I just hate bugs.
I was having a good day too.
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
You said You loved me.
Maybe some silences are meant to be.
Perhaps my bruises are not as bad
as I say they are.
What if I want more
than I said I need?
Is it okay that I am inconsistent
and broken
and lonely?
Maybe I might run away from you.
And what if I do so
just to see if you follow me?
Would you still listen
if I spoke to you in riddles?
How would you feel if I said
you inspired me?
Can I change my mind?
Often?
Will you hold my hand
even when it makes me uncomfortable?
Sometimes when I have a problem,
I do not want you to fix it.
Can you just listen to me?
What if I am afraid to get mad at you?
Or I get defensive when you are mad at me?
Can we talk about it?
Will you get scared if I cry over nothing?
What if I cannot be strong all the time?
Will you tell me when I do something wrong?
Can I be purposefully imperfect?
What if I hurt you?
On purpose?
What if I am a hypocrite?
Sometimes I am blind
to others needs.
Sometimes I am selfish.
And I lie.
And what if I promise
that I will lie to you?
Would you still love me then?
Perhaps my bruises are not as bad
as I say they are.
What if I want more
than I said I need?
Is it okay that I am inconsistent
and broken
and lonely?
Maybe I might run away from you.
And what if I do so
just to see if you follow me?
Would you still listen
if I spoke to you in riddles?
How would you feel if I said
you inspired me?
Can I change my mind?
Often?
Will you hold my hand
even when it makes me uncomfortable?
Sometimes when I have a problem,
I do not want you to fix it.
Can you just listen to me?
What if I am afraid to get mad at you?
Or I get defensive when you are mad at me?
Can we talk about it?
Will you get scared if I cry over nothing?
What if I cannot be strong all the time?
Will you tell me when I do something wrong?
Can I be purposefully imperfect?
What if I hurt you?
On purpose?
What if I am a hypocrite?
Sometimes I am blind
to others needs.
Sometimes I am selfish.
And I lie.
And what if I promise
that I will lie to you?
Would you still love me then?
Monday, August 30, 2004
Liquid, Swirling, Jelly-Clay
I have lots of liquid emotion swirling around in me that has not yet thickened into the jelly-clay necessary for forming them into words. Cold and hot.
And the day was beautiful. I enjoyed just driving with the windows down, the wind blowing my hair all around, happy music playing too loud on the stereo, singing at the top of my lungs and smiling like an idiot at no one. Happiness.
And then apprehension. Grandpa Lewis worked on my car today and a bolt broke off in something important and I felt that hot wave of anticipation at future hardship. But then he fixed it.
And anger, because she was in a bad mood today and had nothing nice to say. And I warned her. Stop being so mean or I'll leave. And she made another comment later. And I left.
And spiffiness because I ended up at wal-mart and they had my new favorite toothpaste and foaming hand soap and ACT mouthwash and I felt all grown up. I wish I had my own bathroom.
And then defiance when she said she worried about me when I was gone. I should have told her where I was going, she says. I say, you have left me in similar situations before. I leave the room. She likes to fight. I do not like to fight. And my room is my sanctuary.
And lots of other smaller things. Like procrastination. Nervousness. Restlessness. Discontent. Contentedness. Anticipation.
Sigh. I know where I want to be. Forever Summer. 1989. You and me playing in the plastic pool in your backyard. Running from your dog. Or swimming at grandma's playing the little mermaid. Or in the room with the giant fireplace of stone. Or being afraid of the hole in Joanies floor. Or grandpa lifting us up in the bobcat bucket. Swinging on the crane. My mom going down the huge slide at the beach. Me rolling down the parking lot of putt putt. The time you ______ in a napkin. Burning our butts off at Spirit Song. Watching Emilie and being scared to death when she was sleeping, checking her breathing every five minutes. And remember when there was only one pool at the Bavarian inn?
And the day was beautiful. I enjoyed just driving with the windows down, the wind blowing my hair all around, happy music playing too loud on the stereo, singing at the top of my lungs and smiling like an idiot at no one. Happiness.
And then apprehension. Grandpa Lewis worked on my car today and a bolt broke off in something important and I felt that hot wave of anticipation at future hardship. But then he fixed it.
And anger, because she was in a bad mood today and had nothing nice to say. And I warned her. Stop being so mean or I'll leave. And she made another comment later. And I left.
And spiffiness because I ended up at wal-mart and they had my new favorite toothpaste and foaming hand soap and ACT mouthwash and I felt all grown up. I wish I had my own bathroom.
And then defiance when she said she worried about me when I was gone. I should have told her where I was going, she says. I say, you have left me in similar situations before. I leave the room. She likes to fight. I do not like to fight. And my room is my sanctuary.
And lots of other smaller things. Like procrastination. Nervousness. Restlessness. Discontent. Contentedness. Anticipation.
Sigh. I know where I want to be. Forever Summer. 1989. You and me playing in the plastic pool in your backyard. Running from your dog. Or swimming at grandma's playing the little mermaid. Or in the room with the giant fireplace of stone. Or being afraid of the hole in Joanies floor. Or grandpa lifting us up in the bobcat bucket. Swinging on the crane. My mom going down the huge slide at the beach. Me rolling down the parking lot of putt putt. The time you ______ in a napkin. Burning our butts off at Spirit Song. Watching Emilie and being scared to death when she was sleeping, checking her breathing every five minutes. And remember when there was only one pool at the Bavarian inn?
My Current quandary (as mentioned to the square root of Sarah squared, aka plus or minus Sarah)
Sometimes this feels like reaching out to the world, and other times it feels like me spending way too much time writing in my diary. Ah well. I have come to need this.
I am listening to Jeremy Camp. It makes me kinda sad because I missed his concert. But again, oh well.
Today was the kick-off picnic at MUM. I saw Chris and Johnna and Ashley all at the same time. Saw Brad from far away. It was strange. Like lunch at high school. Except it wasn't. And part of me wanted to stay there all day and pretend and part of me wanted to leave as quickly as possible. I stayed for a bit, then I left. I would say that I compromised with myself. It was nice, sure, but it felt like. . . stale or something. Like trying to revive something past.
And maybe I am not social enough, but I never wanted to be. I like hanging out with my aunts and cousins more than my friends, most times. And I do not care about the social implications of that, because I never wanted to be cool or popular. I don't even care about all that. Some of the coolest people I have ever met have been the "geeks" and the "nerds" and I love them for it. And I do not know what label I fall under, but again, do not really care. The most important thing to me is to be liked by those that matter to me. I don't care if the most popular girl or guy in school things I am a loser, but I do care what you think. And I think the most tragic thing for me would be to not live up to my own standards. It is hard to measure oneself with the same stick as everyone else.
I don't even know where I am going with this, but I usually do. Most the time my thoughts are all connected on a common string, whether you can see it or not.
So many times I am tempted to repeat what I have already said. I guess that is because, most the time I have to. Sometimes I feel like I am not being listened to. I want to be able to make an allusion to something I have already said before and for you to understand. Like if I tell you that I was going to talk about skating around each other again, you would know what I meant. I know I talk a lot, but it hurts me when I feel that people are not listening to me. I talk less, or say less. I just want to be heard. Its like, if you are not listening, how can you know me? If you are not listening to me, do you even want to know me? If you do not want to know me, how could you love me? Yes I know, too dramatic, too sensitive. These are my inner ramblings.
I am listening to Jeremy Camp. It makes me kinda sad because I missed his concert. But again, oh well.
Today was the kick-off picnic at MUM. I saw Chris and Johnna and Ashley all at the same time. Saw Brad from far away. It was strange. Like lunch at high school. Except it wasn't. And part of me wanted to stay there all day and pretend and part of me wanted to leave as quickly as possible. I stayed for a bit, then I left. I would say that I compromised with myself. It was nice, sure, but it felt like. . . stale or something. Like trying to revive something past.
And maybe I am not social enough, but I never wanted to be. I like hanging out with my aunts and cousins more than my friends, most times. And I do not care about the social implications of that, because I never wanted to be cool or popular. I don't even care about all that. Some of the coolest people I have ever met have been the "geeks" and the "nerds" and I love them for it. And I do not know what label I fall under, but again, do not really care. The most important thing to me is to be liked by those that matter to me. I don't care if the most popular girl or guy in school things I am a loser, but I do care what you think. And I think the most tragic thing for me would be to not live up to my own standards. It is hard to measure oneself with the same stick as everyone else.
I don't even know where I am going with this, but I usually do. Most the time my thoughts are all connected on a common string, whether you can see it or not.
So many times I am tempted to repeat what I have already said. I guess that is because, most the time I have to. Sometimes I feel like I am not being listened to. I want to be able to make an allusion to something I have already said before and for you to understand. Like if I tell you that I was going to talk about skating around each other again, you would know what I meant. I know I talk a lot, but it hurts me when I feel that people are not listening to me. I talk less, or say less. I just want to be heard. Its like, if you are not listening, how can you know me? If you are not listening to me, do you even want to know me? If you do not want to know me, how could you love me? Yes I know, too dramatic, too sensitive. These are my inner ramblings.
Sunday, August 29, 2004
And just for me.
I always turn the music on and then pause it the whole time I am on the computer. Why even turn it on? I only really listen to music in my car, and then, really loud. Makes me feel cool or something.
Wow, I wish I could say something. But then, people read this. So everything I write must be filtered. What do I want you to know? How many of my vulnerabilities will I let you see? I am very tempted to show you this one thing. But. . . would you take it the wrong way? Would you think of me differently? Would I then be afraid of you? Temptation. Because every part of me just wants to be known. I want to be completely known.
So I will say it, this scary thing. It may sound little to you, or common, but it scares the hell out me. I want you to like me. And just for me. Not for what you hope I might be or what I try to be. I want you to know everything about me, flaws even, and love me just the same. And I want you to tell me, because I am insecure and I need reassurance. Often.
And I want to tell you that I like you. Without social stigmas or preconceived notions of romance. Just that I like you. And that is more than love, I think. Because I have to love some people, but not necessarily like them. So when I say I like you, that is something for me. But I cannot say it to some, because people get all weird. And maybe I do not expect anything more from you than a smile, just to know that you like that I like you.
So if you are reading this, then I probably like you. Because why would I tell you these things if I did not? Yes, I mean you. And I just wanted to say it. And I wanted to put it in text, where you can look back at it and see that yes, I did say that. I did mean that. For reassurance. Because I probably wont tell you in person, unless you ask me. Then Ill tell you. I just. . . I am afraid of what your face would look like when I told you. So I told a couple of you on IM. And that scared me to death, but I thought it was goodbye and I could not bear to leave you not knowing. You have been my friends and I like you.
New subject. I was driving home from Ashleys house tonight and I was so scared. It was dark and the road was wet, but that was not the half of it. I was driving through country roads that had cornfields or trees on both sides of the road and I was afraid a deer would jump out and attack me or something. Here I am in a box made out of tons of metal and some glass and I am afraid for my safety.
Aww, I just got done talking to Rachel. She said "microwave baby" Do you remember that? Oh, let me share the story. We had to dress up potatoes in clothes for some reason in English class eighth grade. Rachel, Katy, Ashley, and I made our potatoes into a barbershop quartet. My Potatoes name was Pier. We even had a song.
Wow, I wish I could say something. But then, people read this. So everything I write must be filtered. What do I want you to know? How many of my vulnerabilities will I let you see? I am very tempted to show you this one thing. But. . . would you take it the wrong way? Would you think of me differently? Would I then be afraid of you? Temptation. Because every part of me just wants to be known. I want to be completely known.
So I will say it, this scary thing. It may sound little to you, or common, but it scares the hell out me. I want you to like me. And just for me. Not for what you hope I might be or what I try to be. I want you to know everything about me, flaws even, and love me just the same. And I want you to tell me, because I am insecure and I need reassurance. Often.
And I want to tell you that I like you. Without social stigmas or preconceived notions of romance. Just that I like you. And that is more than love, I think. Because I have to love some people, but not necessarily like them. So when I say I like you, that is something for me. But I cannot say it to some, because people get all weird. And maybe I do not expect anything more from you than a smile, just to know that you like that I like you.
So if you are reading this, then I probably like you. Because why would I tell you these things if I did not? Yes, I mean you. And I just wanted to say it. And I wanted to put it in text, where you can look back at it and see that yes, I did say that. I did mean that. For reassurance. Because I probably wont tell you in person, unless you ask me. Then Ill tell you. I just. . . I am afraid of what your face would look like when I told you. So I told a couple of you on IM. And that scared me to death, but I thought it was goodbye and I could not bear to leave you not knowing. You have been my friends and I like you.
New subject. I was driving home from Ashleys house tonight and I was so scared. It was dark and the road was wet, but that was not the half of it. I was driving through country roads that had cornfields or trees on both sides of the road and I was afraid a deer would jump out and attack me or something. Here I am in a box made out of tons of metal and some glass and I am afraid for my safety.
Aww, I just got done talking to Rachel. She said "microwave baby" Do you remember that? Oh, let me share the story. We had to dress up potatoes in clothes for some reason in English class eighth grade. Rachel, Katy, Ashley, and I made our potatoes into a barbershop quartet. My Potatoes name was Pier. We even had a song.
Microwave Baby
All you gotta do
is press
"one" or "two"
and then
"start"
to bake my heart!
Microwave Baby!
I still have Pier the Second. Sigh.
I was thinking today about how someone just saying my name can make me feel. Its so weird, I guess. Like how warm and motherly I feel when Emilie or Elisabeth says my name. Or how instantly aggravated I feel when my mom says my name. Or how I feel when you say my name. I cannot specify there, I do not know who you are. But like, I feel so loved when someone says my name when they are excited to see me. And I feel sad when someone says my name and they are depressed. And I feel motherly again when they are hurt and just want some comfort. A lot of weight the one word carries. I like it. Say my name.
And, as has become routine, I must go do my homework. I bid you goodnight and pleasant dreams or good morning and pleasant new memories or good afternoon and . . .
I was thinking today about how someone just saying my name can make me feel. Its so weird, I guess. Like how warm and motherly I feel when Emilie or Elisabeth says my name. Or how instantly aggravated I feel when my mom says my name. Or how I feel when you say my name. I cannot specify there, I do not know who you are. But like, I feel so loved when someone says my name when they are excited to see me. And I feel sad when someone says my name and they are depressed. And I feel motherly again when they are hurt and just want some comfort. A lot of weight the one word carries. I like it. Say my name.
And, as has become routine, I must go do my homework. I bid you goodnight and pleasant dreams or good morning and pleasant new memories or good afternoon and . . .
Twenty four. . . Twenty Five. . .Twe-
I got one of those foot bath things from walmart and some foot scrub and did my very own pedicure! And I gave a pedicure to Elisabeth too. She kept asking, "Wa sat? Wa sat? Why? Why? Why? I like dat. Me do it. I wan mell it. It mell good." Translation: Whats that? I like that. I want to do it. I want to smell it. That smells good. So that was fun.
I am procrastinating right now. I do not want to do my homework Ug.
Well, I gave myself half an hour on the net and it is currently 29 minutes. So, I will write again tonight, after I take care of my responsibilities.
I love you, Ashley! I am sorry you work so much! I will save you cake from the party, I promise!
I am procrastinating right now. I do not want to do my homework Ug.
Well, I gave myself half an hour on the net and it is currently 29 minutes. So, I will write again tonight, after I take care of my responsibilities.
I love you, Ashley! I am sorry you work so much! I will save you cake from the party, I promise!
Saturday, August 28, 2004
And THEN. . . And THEN
Soooooo. . . . Saturday Class is freaking awesome. I parked in the best spot ever! And everyone I saw in the hallway was on their way to the same class as me. And my teacher is hilarious. And the math is easy, although I am scared to death that I will not be able to explain it to children. This will be a new skill to learn. It will be like telling someone how to breathe. I have done it for so long I do not even know how I do it. Wow. So I like it mucho.
I hung out (hanged out?) chilled with my dad today. We went to Middletown shopping center thing. I went to the consignment shop and Hancock fabrics while he got his hair cut. I got the cutest little outfit for Elisabeth! Oh, Oh, and I purchased some material to make a curtain for that window. Finally! Oh, Oh, and I looked at the books with all the patterns in them and drooled over all the civil war era dresses and sighed and the other lady there was doing the same thing! And then I was telling the cashier lady all about it (because I talk to complete strangers about everything and quite often) and she said she was a reenactor! Wow! And there is some kind of encampment in Piqua next weekend and I am on my vacation so I can go! And Dad is taking a vacation day and he will take me (because frankly, he has no choice in the matter) Oh, and I am going to the fair at New Boston with Katy on Saturday! Exciting stuff. Yay!
I wish I could wear corsets and hoopskirts and petticoats! (While wearing deodorant and having brushed my teeth with Colgate, oh, and in the air conditioning)
Anyway, and then we went to the grocery store and I experimented with pork chops for dinner. I marinated some in Hawaiian marinade and it actually turned out good! Wow, I cooked something! Mmm, I will have to make some for you sometime, if you like pork that is. Well, I could use chicken too. And I wasn't afraid of the grill! Yay for me!
And. . . I think that is all the exciting stuff I had to say.
Dreams, ugh. So I was not hiding from an enemy, like usual, last night. I was hiding a secret, and it was weird because it was a real secret that I actually do hide. Except in the dream, they found out, and all this stuff and it was horrible. And I cried in my dream and I woke up crying and it was just awful. Will I tell my secret to relieve myself of this burden? Um, no!
So, I feel a bit overwhelmed at the amount of homework I have to do, mostly reading. I have so much to read that I don't have time to read stuff I enjoy, like those romance novels I checked out. It is just as well I suppose. Here is how they all go. Girl, and then guy. Girl and Guy belong together. Some conflict keeps them apart. Conflict resolved. Mushy moment (we can call this the "aww" or "sigh" factor). Then they live happily ever after. The end.
Okay. Now I have to read Twenty Years at Hull House and Physical Science and Math and History stuff. Darn it.
Oh well. Good day. I am going to do homework for say, an hour, and then I will spend the night with Joanie. Tomorrow is my brothers b-day party.
Papaw changed my oil today! And I got windshield wiper fluid! (This is exciting for me. Its like taking my car to the day spa or something.) Now, I need air freshener and a wash.
Anyway, farewell. And really do, I mean. Fare Well.
I hung out (hanged out?) chilled with my dad today. We went to Middletown shopping center thing. I went to the consignment shop and Hancock fabrics while he got his hair cut. I got the cutest little outfit for Elisabeth! Oh, Oh, and I purchased some material to make a curtain for that window. Finally! Oh, Oh, and I looked at the books with all the patterns in them and drooled over all the civil war era dresses and sighed and the other lady there was doing the same thing! And then I was telling the cashier lady all about it (because I talk to complete strangers about everything and quite often) and she said she was a reenactor! Wow! And there is some kind of encampment in Piqua next weekend and I am on my vacation so I can go! And Dad is taking a vacation day and he will take me (because frankly, he has no choice in the matter) Oh, and I am going to the fair at New Boston with Katy on Saturday! Exciting stuff. Yay!
I wish I could wear corsets and hoopskirts and petticoats! (While wearing deodorant and having brushed my teeth with Colgate, oh, and in the air conditioning)
Anyway, and then we went to the grocery store and I experimented with pork chops for dinner. I marinated some in Hawaiian marinade and it actually turned out good! Wow, I cooked something! Mmm, I will have to make some for you sometime, if you like pork that is. Well, I could use chicken too. And I wasn't afraid of the grill! Yay for me!
And. . . I think that is all the exciting stuff I had to say.
Dreams, ugh. So I was not hiding from an enemy, like usual, last night. I was hiding a secret, and it was weird because it was a real secret that I actually do hide. Except in the dream, they found out, and all this stuff and it was horrible. And I cried in my dream and I woke up crying and it was just awful. Will I tell my secret to relieve myself of this burden? Um, no!
So, I feel a bit overwhelmed at the amount of homework I have to do, mostly reading. I have so much to read that I don't have time to read stuff I enjoy, like those romance novels I checked out. It is just as well I suppose. Here is how they all go. Girl, and then guy. Girl and Guy belong together. Some conflict keeps them apart. Conflict resolved. Mushy moment (we can call this the "aww" or "sigh" factor). Then they live happily ever after. The end.
Okay. Now I have to read Twenty Years at Hull House and Physical Science and Math and History stuff. Darn it.
Oh well. Good day. I am going to do homework for say, an hour, and then I will spend the night with Joanie. Tomorrow is my brothers b-day party.
Papaw changed my oil today! And I got windshield wiper fluid! (This is exciting for me. Its like taking my car to the day spa or something.) Now, I need air freshener and a wash.
Anyway, farewell. And really do, I mean. Fare Well.
Friday, August 27, 2004
Grand Scheme of Things
I dreamt of hiding again last night. It would not have been anything to talk about except that I had not dreamt of hiding for awhile. Since the last time I posted about it, I believe. I do not know how long ago that was, probly not too long in the grand scheme of things, but it was not yesterday. From my quick read-through it looks like Aug. 11, but I did not read thoroughly. Anyway, this one was so real. This one I could feel. I can still feel it. Physically. *shudder*
Good day today. Got paid. Alot. Have to pay bills. Gonna get a pedicure. Or go to Layne Bryant. But not both.
I will write more tomorrow. I promise. I have to go to school in the morning. Ug.
Good day today. Got paid. Alot. Have to pay bills. Gonna get a pedicure. Or go to Layne Bryant. But not both.
I will write more tomorrow. I promise. I have to go to school in the morning. Ug.
Thursday, August 26, 2004
I hate short posts.
Here I am hiding in my room again because I am afraid of people. Nah, everyone is in bed anyway. I feel like I should be doing something. . . Oh, homework.
I got a planner today and I transferred the dates from all my syllabuses? syllabi? into the planner. Now I have all the due dates in one place. Next: Remember to check planner.
Wow, its a little late. I watched the Olympics too long. Awesome stuff though.
I must go. I have class early (early for me anyway) and I work nine hours tomorrow. But hey! I have my vacation next week if anyone wants to do anything anytime. Heh. Im a loser.
I got a planner today and I transferred the dates from all my syllabuses? syllabi? into the planner. Now I have all the due dates in one place. Next: Remember to check planner.
Wow, its a little late. I watched the Olympics too long. Awesome stuff though.
I must go. I have class early (early for me anyway) and I work nine hours tomorrow. But hey! I have my vacation next week if anyone wants to do anything anytime. Heh. Im a loser.
Wednesday, August 25, 2004
My Fair Viking
Man! I made a freaking long post and my browser froze on me and I lost it! Grrr. Stupid technology. Im so mad I forget everything I said.
I wrote my favorite author and she wrote me back. P.C. Cast. Paranormal Romance. Boys wouldn't like it. That made me happy.
School is good.
I went to the library today. I got one sleazy romance novel, one not so sleazy romance novel, and one historical Christian romance novel (that means they don't even kiss.) I have grown out of my sci-fi stage and into a girly one. I am allowed to do that, I am the proud owner of estrogen.
There was alot more, but I do not remember now. Stupid computer.
I wrote my favorite author and she wrote me back. P.C. Cast. Paranormal Romance. Boys wouldn't like it. That made me happy.
School is good.
I went to the library today. I got one sleazy romance novel, one not so sleazy romance novel, and one historical Christian romance novel (that means they don't even kiss.) I have grown out of my sci-fi stage and into a girly one. I am allowed to do that, I am the proud owner of estrogen.
There was alot more, but I do not remember now. Stupid computer.
Tuesday, August 24, 2004
Big Blubbering Idiot
Today has been. . . remniscent. I heard a song I have not heard in a long while. It made me feel the feelings I felt when I listened to that song. Wow. And then I started working on my scrapbook and as I looked through those pictures I longed to be there again and the only thing I could think was that I was just going to get further and further from there. And then I found a picture of Grandpa and I cried. I went downstairs and my mother held me while I cried. I miss him so. So here I am a big blubbering idiot who is reduced to tears every other day.
Monday, August 23, 2004
School Daze
I am full of nervous energy. I have to tell my professors tomorrow that I will miss two weeks of class for china. What will they say? Sigh. I will not be able to sleep tonight. Good luck to all of you. Tell me everything.
Ever stick you hand in the pop and try to drink the popcorn?
Funniest thing: I just tried to staple some papers together with my phone.
Everyday: To be imperfect.
I am so. . . Variable. That's not the word, but I cannot think of a better one at the current moment. I am not steady or stable in my emotions. Even naming them here has only increased this effect. When I see them, I can react to them. Do I know myself any better today than I did the day before I started my blog? I do not know this. I am more accountable to myself. What I say in my head is still here, tangible, for me to reckon with. I cringe as I read some entries. I smile at others. Still, I agree with some and become embarrassed at others. Some, I want to delete, but I will not because, like it or not, this is who I was at the time I typed it, or who I thought I was.
I am allowed to be imperfect. I am allowed to be flawed. You should love me anyway. I may never live up to all of your expectations of me, or any of them. I will probably surprise you once in a while, and on that note, I will disappoint you as well. Let that not be the end of our friendship. This I know: it is so much easier to walk away, I have done it many times. There is no fruit in walking away.
And I find communication scary and most effective. Most of the time, I cannot say what I feel about you when I see your face. I can tell you here. I can tell you in poetry. But, when I see your face, I am terrified. Of what? Your response? Not being reciprocated? Rejection? Vulnerability? It may be all of these things.
I get lost and overwhelmed in all I want to be. (Warning: I may have said all of this before) Sometimes I want to be what I think you would want me to be. I want to be liked or loved or something. But the thought of that makes me angry. I should not have to earn or change for love. I should be worthy of it. And I feel that I am not.
And I get lost in religion. I know what I want to believe. My heart strays. My heart does not commit. I know the truth here, but not here. My heart believes, my head argues? I cannot explain to you. I feel torn in two with this. I want to be completely submerged in God. I want to drown in His presence, and it seems so far away. Or am I running? And I never do what I say I will do. I am unreliable here, in religion, faith. I know this: My happiness is directly proportional to my faith. When I start to doubt, I become depressed. I know where this happiness comes from. Just sometimes I think, What if this is all some elaborate hoax? Did someone make this all up?
I know what I want, because I think it will make me happy. I am sure it will not. But, I cannot rationalize this to myself. I want it nonetheless. Or maybe this is some built-in desire. Something pre-programmed into all human beings. I do not know this.
We are not defined by the major events in our lives, but by the everyday. I am the sum of every day I am alive. People will not remember me for what I was at homecoming or at Grandpa's funeral. They will remember what I was everytime they saw me. Let this remind me, what I want to be, because that, I need to be everyday.
I want to be beautiful. (And again, I am not talking about the physical.)
I am allowed to be imperfect. I am allowed to be flawed. You should love me anyway. I may never live up to all of your expectations of me, or any of them. I will probably surprise you once in a while, and on that note, I will disappoint you as well. Let that not be the end of our friendship. This I know: it is so much easier to walk away, I have done it many times. There is no fruit in walking away.
And I find communication scary and most effective. Most of the time, I cannot say what I feel about you when I see your face. I can tell you here. I can tell you in poetry. But, when I see your face, I am terrified. Of what? Your response? Not being reciprocated? Rejection? Vulnerability? It may be all of these things.
I get lost and overwhelmed in all I want to be. (Warning: I may have said all of this before) Sometimes I want to be what I think you would want me to be. I want to be liked or loved or something. But the thought of that makes me angry. I should not have to earn or change for love. I should be worthy of it. And I feel that I am not.
And I get lost in religion. I know what I want to believe. My heart strays. My heart does not commit. I know the truth here, but not here. My heart believes, my head argues? I cannot explain to you. I feel torn in two with this. I want to be completely submerged in God. I want to drown in His presence, and it seems so far away. Or am I running? And I never do what I say I will do. I am unreliable here, in religion, faith. I know this: My happiness is directly proportional to my faith. When I start to doubt, I become depressed. I know where this happiness comes from. Just sometimes I think, What if this is all some elaborate hoax? Did someone make this all up?
I know what I want, because I think it will make me happy. I am sure it will not. But, I cannot rationalize this to myself. I want it nonetheless. Or maybe this is some built-in desire. Something pre-programmed into all human beings. I do not know this.
We are not defined by the major events in our lives, but by the everyday. I am the sum of every day I am alive. People will not remember me for what I was at homecoming or at Grandpa's funeral. They will remember what I was everytime they saw me. Let this remind me, what I want to be, because that, I need to be everyday.
I want to be beautiful. (And again, I am not talking about the physical.)
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