Words

Words can do funny things to you. They can incite beauty, pain, memories, hatred, and a plethora of other emotions and actions. They get us motivated, whether for good or evil. I am greatly affected by words in my life. The simplest of them bring me great joy. From a man, all I need to hear is "mine" to make me soar.

It's easy to tell someone that words are just words. And sometimes they are. They are so often empty of any real emotion. It depends on the situations and circumstance.

I have always been a big reader. A careful compilation of words can totally immerse me into a new world and let me escape. And most importantly, to me, words allow me to express myself in ways that very little else does.

Unfortunately when you are so affected by words, they can cripple you just as easily as make your life more enriched. Last night some words were spoken to me in a drunken state that hurt me to my core. Rationally, I know that they weren't meant in the spirit of hatred that they were said. But that makes little difference when they are emotional in nature. They hit to the very core of what I sometimes already feel.

I love my family. I am a very firm believer in the fact that no matter what problems there mat be in your family, you should support them when they need it and knock them down when they need it. And they should do the same for you.

The words that hurt me last night will stay with me for a long time and it may be awhile before I can feel forgiveness for them. I don't need help in feeling guilty about my mother or bad about my seeming inability to have children. The fact that these reminders came from someone in my own family is what is making this so hard to deal with. I may overstep my bounds on occasion, but it doesn't matter. I'll be ok. I know that I'm a good person with a big heart and I'm not going to let these words affect me in the long term. But for now I need to feel this pain so that, eventually, I can forgive this pain.

Restless Thoughts

There are many words that I consider vulgar. None of those are any of the normal vulgarity referred to by the common public. Words that are vulgar to me are those associated with meanings or emotions I find to be particularly vulgar on a day-to-day basis. Vulnerability, loneliness, betrayal, infertile, and a host of other similar types of words are the worst ones you can use...

The worst word in that one is vulnerability. All of the other vulgarity involved in my word list tie into that one. I was vulnerable as a child because I was a child. I was naive to the world around me and I'm thankful that I was. There are so many worse options. I stayed vulnerable because I had compassion, tenderness and, unfortunately for me, I wore my heart on my shoulder. Many situations that took that vulnerability for granted caused me to harden up and become much harder to hurt (visibly). If you've ever read anything I've written, it's obvious that I still wear it on my sleeve, I've just put a thin protective covering over it.

I am still, consistently, shocked by the behavior of people. As much of the bad, sad, difficult, unimaginable (etc) that I've witnessed as there has been, and I find it amazing that my vulnerability is so fragile that I'm nearly devastated by the simple, hurtful acts that some people show towards others, animals, and themselves. I'm not talking about any particular thing that has happened recently. But rather, everything I witness that shocks me to my core, whether those around me realize it or not.

In no particular order, these are a few of the things I've witnessed recently that have caused my hair to stand on end and my heart to become a little sadder. A man stepped on a mouse and killed it because (he says) it was going to bite him. He was wearing boots and the mouse was on the ground; A woman blatantly talking about someone who was in earshot, making hurtful remarks about that person and then shrugging it off when noticed; the very recent shooting in Arizona of several people, killing and wounding many; one woman's negativity so affecting those around her that their negativity affects everyone like a wave; the wishing of people dead just because their views aren't shared...

A lot of the things I find shocking seem trivial on a broad scale, but they aren't to me. My brother once said that I was empathetic and at the time I just sort of rolled my eyes and chalked it up to everyone being able to put themselves in someone else's shoes. I have thought quite a bit about that in the years since he said it and I think that maybe he's right. There is a group of people in Slidell that I actually have quite a bit in common with socially. But I refuse to meet them and hang out with them when they are all together because I can feel the negativity and vampire-esq attitudes of those that attend. Individually I like them just fine, but as a group they leave the metaphorical metallic taste of blood in my mouth.

I realize that when I write, I write a lot of depressing and negative...prose? But I only write when I have things weighing my mind down. Sometimes it is about me and other times it isn't. Then again, there are times, like now, when it's a bit of both. I'm really not like this all the time. I LOVE to laugh. I love to look for the humor in all situations. I love to see beauty in anything from another person, to a sign on a building. I love to entertain and make people around me feel good. When you hear me making funny, sarcastic and dry comments and then turn around and be sugary sweet to someone I don't know, don't assume that I'm faking that change or the things I'm saying. I am genuinely happy to help in any way I can... and to anyone that needs it. The beauty in the human world, and most definitely outside of it, is so infinite and so (here's that word again) vulnerable that it hurts me to my core to see anything mess that up.

When I'm down and can't give you a reason as to why, just understand that it isn't going to last. I will find beauty again. You just have to give me time to work out my disappointment in whatever I've seen, done or heard.

Using This Thing For Good

I keep saying I'm going to write. I know that writing is cathartic and one of my few ways of really being able to get those things that bother me off my chest. The other major one is being ignored as deeply as writing is. I feel like I have all of this pent up energy built up inside me that is dying to get out and I can't seem to find the faucet. Either that or I'm afraid to find it because it's been rusted shut and I can't find the tools to fix it.

When I write, I try not to think about what I'm writing or the people that may/may not be reading it. Unfortunately, one of those two things seems to be getting in my way over the last two or three years. So my words have had very little flow. I think this all has to do with the same rut I've gotten myself stuck in. I told my best friend the other night that I feel like I'm continuously running myself into a wall. I can see that there are more than two ways to get around the wall, but I am running myself into it anyway. I'm not sure what is on the other side, but I would rather the comfortability of the same pain of having my nose smashed into the bricks over and over again than to try and figure out new ways of getting myself hurt. I just can't go on like this. If I do, I'll end up a severely tattooed, 60-yr old woman with cats and renting a crappy apartment in the middle of a nowhere town. No children, no prospects, no...anything. As long as I continue to sit on my ass, that is where I'm going to end up.

I would very much like to see myself doing some of the following: being more creative, actively finding a job that is more suitable to who I am, using this blog for something other than depressing rants, getting more involved with my photographs, finally design that wood carving I've been avoiding., etc. They are goals. Now I just need to see if I'm able to follow through with them.

**side note: I know you're watching, but I can't understand why you don't just speak to me. Even if it's to tell me what you *really* think of me. But the move is in your hands. It always has been. I'll love you for my whole life. Just so you know.**

A New Year

I'm sitting and listening to random fireworks go on all over the city. I can hear people start to celebrate a new year coming and the ending of the year past. Ringing out the old. 2010 will not be forgotten by me for the rest of my life. I lost my mom this year. I had a short dream the other night and when I woke up, I wanted to cry. I heard her voice. Up until that moment, I realized that I remember my grandmother's smell and her voice more than I remember my mom's.

I remember so many odd things about my mom. In particular, I remember how unique she was. A crazy concoction of impossible to like, impossible to hate, brilliance, defiance, stupidity, tenderness, and love. She was more open-minded than anyone I have ever come into contact with. In my youthful rebellion, I often found myself saying things to shock her and rarely found any fruits of the labor. She was hard to shock, and when you did it was because you hit below the belt and she was more hurt than shocked. She loved people for who they were and even when she didn't agree with what they did.

My mom was a cognitive thinker and had a cognitive humor. She often referred to my sister and I as "snipers" because we hit hard, below the belt and with precision. Well we learned it from her. She was a high speed bullet in conversations and could out-think, out-reason, out-dirty and just plain top anyone she went up against.

So much of that was forgotten or pushed away in these last years of her changing so much. I forgot how much I adored her, loved her, how much she loved us and the fact that she was so damned funny. The fact is, I miss my mother, wish she were here, wish she were around to see me finally accomplish anything real in my life, bear witness to all of my precious moments and wish I could hear her laugh that deeply amused belly laugh she used to let go.

I think that it's been a little harder for me to let go because I have so much guilt associated with her death. And I'm sure some of that is normal. But it still hurts that I did all of those things I did. I'll just leave it at that.

Suffice it to say, I will miss her everyday of my life. I don't ever want to stop missing her because of who she really was, not the person she had become towards the end. I will not, however, miss this year. I have never welcomed the end of a year so much. I am going to celebrate by having a glass of wine and going to bed early.

I wish everyone a very Happy New Year and one filled with all of your wishes and dreams fulfilled.

It was the best of times...

And it's definitely the worst of times. I wrote about my friendship strifes last time. Well apparently there was more to it than I realized with one part of that. A friendship that I've had for over 10 years seems to have ended. At one point in time, she knew me better than anyone in this world did, and fairly often, better than I knew myself. My trip in August seems to have changed that. At the request of others, my trip was not only to enjoy some time with my friends and have a vacation from work, but also to enlighten those I was to be visiting with a fresh perspective (aka, truth-telling sessions in which participants get "told" about themselves). I tend to do these types of things normally,but when it's requested I do take it a little farther. So, admittedly, I was a little taken aback when, with my services rendered while I was there, I have been (basically) shut off from communication from these participants.

I was devastated when this friendship was suddenly jerked from me a year or so ago, and grateful to have it back after a 10-month, non-consentual hiatus. Maybe that time hardened me. Perhaps it was the circumstances under which the communication seems to have ended this time. Maybe it's other factors of my life playing into the situation, seeing as my life has changed rather drastically in the last 8 months or so. Whatever the case, what does it say that I'm not terribly upset that I'm no longer in real contact (other than being on the FB friend's list) with someone who was my platonic soul-mate, my bitch, my heart and my ultimate in best friends? I'm having to fight away that tendency I have to be cold towards the situations I find distasteful. I am only trying to remain warm because we do have such a long and crazy history together.

Don't get me wrong. I do, and will continue to miss what we had. But I've missed it before. This isn't the only friendship that has been jerked away from me, suddenly and without explanation and I'm sure there are more to come. But it gets harder, each time and no matter the person, to remain open to new situations. That constantly hurting, ripping, and shredding of someone you are supposed to care about, whether it's intended to be malicious or not, is akin to betrayal in my eyes. You might as well rob me, kill my cat and then have me arrested. No, that is not an invitation to cause me pain. I do not react well.

I think maybe that between the last time, knowing her and the situation as I do, and the amount of emotional pain I've had to endure this year are enough. I don't think I'm willing to entertain any more than self-inflicted or invited pain until after the new year.

Reject this...

I randomly find things that are awesome in some form or another and I become inspired to create myself. Not that I actually sit down and create. I am completely lazy about those things. I have always been easily distracted by those things that I don’t require thinking to do (watching tv, playing games, etc). I’m not even so sure that it’s necessarily laziness. Oh, don’t get me wrong, part of it is. I am a lazy human being and I probably always will be. I can talk myself down from a ledge faster than anyone I know and then manage to go blasé about the entire idea of going back up. It’s not fear. It’s lack of concern. It’s really kind of annoying.

Anyway, I do believe I’m beginning to discover that a good chunk of my unwillingness to do these things I want to do so badly is fear. I am already painfully aware of the multitude of things I suck at. These are things that I can’t always fix (at least not in a hurry). I can’t fix my hormones (without medical intervention)or the fact that I’m considered unattractive to the male species (yes, species). I’m attractive to some of them. Unfortunately, the majority of that category are a whole issue unto themselves. But I’m not here to bash them. I’m here for me… as always. I’m not the only sniper with their gun facing backwards, but I’m a clean draw.

I don’t doubt that I could create any of these art pieces that my muse, ever so lovingly, shoves in my head and slams it around until I can’t take it anymore. I found out a few semesters ago that I can, in fact, draw. And that’s great. I still can’t do people, but that may be because I refuse to try after sucking at it a few times. It falls under the same reasoning of why I rarely sing in front of people. It is simply because people have jokes. And I don’t appreciate the ones that only they think are funny. Those types of jokes make me seethingly angry. The simple words, “Don’t quit your day job! ” are enough to cause my blood to boil and the need to want to become severely violent. I suppress those feelings of unwanted anger and the following bewilderment by just not singing in front of anyone that I don’t fully trust with my heart and soul. The few of those people that there are. And so it goes with all of those creative things I really want to do. Laziness and fear. The two, unending and unyielding banes of my existence.

Now why, you might ask, do I let these seemingly trivial things bother me if I can identify them? Because I tire of being constantly criticized. By everyone. All the time. Whether they know they’re doing it or not. Up until recently I thought that my closest friends were the people that I could totally be myself with and not have any repercussions of things I might say or ways I might behave. Sadly, it’s not true. I very recently had two separate friends be offended by me and things I’ve said. And on the one hand, it bothers me that I would have bothered them to that point. On the other, I’m kind of annoyed by the fact that my person or personality has not changed. And when I’m with my friends, I most certainly do not expect their true selves to be hid away to appease me. I’m all about “be who you are and I’m going to like it or I’m not.” So why should I have to do the same to appease certain of my friends who are put off by the same mannerisms I’ve had the whole time I’ve known them? I don’t run around in public (or in private for that matter) screaming violently everything that is personal and private about that person. One did not appreciate being the butt of my jokes in a social setting. The same social setting where everyone, at one point in the night or another is the butt of my joke. Myself more than others. I do understand her point to an extent. The particular social setting in question is one where respect should be upheld between one type of person and another. Blah blah blah…too complicated for this. I know what she means and I appreciate her letting me know that she was bothered by it. But why do I suddenly need to watch how I am with her when I haven’t had to do that in the years I’ve known her. Now I feel like I’m going to be walking on eggshells around her and I don’t like that feeling with anyone I know. The other person in question offended me by being an ass. I can only assume that he decided to act like an ass towards me because he was offended that I told him the truth about himself (which I’ve done since the day I met him, only this time it’s been a couple of years since I’ve had the opportunity). I say I can only assume he is offended because he has chosen to take the opposite road of previous friend and isn’t going to speak to me at all. Granted, it’s just two people in my list of friends, but these two people matter to me.

I’m not sure how I got off on that tangent, and in keeping with tradition, I’m not going to go back and read this before I post it. It’s more cathartic to just put it out there. Although, knowing I’m posting it here leaves a pretty good chance that it won’t get read at all. I’m either ok with that or it sucks.

Back to the creativity thing. I want to make art. I want to make art all the time. I get pictures in my head of things I want to see as art by my own hands and I can’t get them out until I play World of Warcraft or Bejeweled until I can’t remember what they look like. It’s getting to the point of ridiculous. I’m taking the semester off of school and then I’m hoping to go to more of an art school. You’d think I would want to be practicing my ass off in preparation for what I’m sure will be the most critical part of my school career (and a career it is turning out to be). Whatever I decide to do about this particular conundrum needs to be settled quick, fast, and in a hurry. I know I can’t keep going in the direction I am because I’ll never get anything done this way. This 4.5 month funk is turning into a full-out depression and I really am not going to deal well with that.

On a side note: guys who say they are interested and really make a girl believe it (for whatever reason they put that kind of effort into it) and then never contact them again…need to suck my dick. Is there hypnotherapy for rejection issues? Cause I’m hauling around the motherload.

Sudden Bursts of Emotion

Grief is such a strange happening. I'm fine most days. I am moving on with my life and working, smiling, laughing, etc. My life is not over, by any means, just because my mom's is. There are days I feel pain about that. I was calling it guilt, but it's not. It was guilt the first week or so and then it was just pain that my mom's quality of life was so low at the time of her death. I still feel that pain. I feel badly that there wasn't more any of us could do to help her with that. She acted as an emotional drain for me so often that we argued more than anything else. I have not gotten into the habit of romanticizing her in death. That's good. But I do miss her. A lot.

As for the other days, and this is one, I'm not exactly fit for company. I got so mad yesterday and said something  about it today and that brought on a fresh onslaught of tears and grief. At the funeral, there were poster boards filled with comments from her students about my mom. And they've been sitting where they were put when we got home from the service. My dad, in his effort to re-vamp the house, just bent them up and threw them in the garbage. I had intended on removing the comments and putting them into a keepsake box. I was so angry. I didn't tell him what I planned to do so he had no way of knowing. I was just SO angry. I still am. I said something to him just now about it but I'm still sitting here crying because of it.

I think it is possible that there is a part of me that needs to be angry with him. I'm not sure the real reason. It could be any number of the following. I needed him to grieve more. I needed someone there for me emotionally. I needed what everyone else was telling me to be true, that he needed me during this time. I needed someone who was a part of my day-to-day life to understand that I am hurting really badly. It's only small portion of the time, but I know I have those thoughts and those feelings about the situation. Otherwise, I'm fine with it. I'm hurting, but I do understand my dad. He's really a good guy. He's just not capable of the emotional side of things. It's awkward for him. And that's ok. I don't expect it really. But living in the same house with someone that should be going through the same thing you are and yet being alone in your grief is ludicrous on some levels. I'm sad and I'm alone and the icing this week was that he through all those memories of my mom from the thing she loved most in her life away without even a thought that one of us might want them.