"One should never judge a book by its cover" says the over used phrase. I'm not so sure. There are always circumstances where the situation completely warrants it. For example:
"Gee, that dog looks rabid. Ah well, I don't know that for certain! I'll just give him a nice, love pat."
Darwin Award material.
When I began working at the Park Place a year and a half ago, I was escorted around by a girl named Jill. Jill was a slender, blonde girl who was in all manners, quite breath-taking. If there would be a single thing I would have to say she really taught me, it would have to be - sigh... not to judge a book by its cover. The thought never crossed my mind that I would someday find a friend in Jill, especially one I could count on so heavily.
Our friendship would build over several (hundred) cups of coffee and would hang in the smoky haze above our heads as we took hits from our Camels and Marlboro Lights. It was slow going at first. We would comment on each other's hair. Next, she would notice that my socks would never match. Whether it was negative or positive, when she had a word to say I would listen. After a short while, I found myself wanting her to talk just so I could listen.
And whenever I needed her, she was there to offer well worn advice and a sympathetic ear.
Now as I reflect through this hectic (and emensely enjoyable) 18 months at the Park Place, I can't imagine what it would have been like without Jill sneaking around somewhere (usually with me).
I dread the thought of going a week without seeing my friend.
She's the first person I really talked to. On my first day I relied so heavily on her. Now that Alain is gone, she's relying on me. It's an honor.
Jill: Tonight when you said "Steph, thanks for being such a good friend", that was one of the greatest things anyone has ever said to me. I want to thank you right back.
I want you to know that you are a beautiful person, inside and out. Your personality sparkles and completely dazzles me. You are strong! You are confident! You can do it with or without Alain! YOU ARE A STAR!
12.05.2006
I was suffocating. Not a breath passed my lips. I felt tired. My movements were jerky. "I have to get upstairs," I thought desperately. "There's not much time."
As quickly as I could, I went up the stairs, heart pounding; lungs collapsing. Surely I was about to pass out from lack of oxygen. Just a little farther. Only a tiny bit farther....
Quietly I removed it from my hiding place. I sat on the toilet seat, breathing heavily, but not seeming to get nearly enough air into my barren lungs.
"Do it!" She screamed.
Not hesitating a beat I listened to her, gliding the sharp, silver hotness over my arms.
My lungs filled.
I sat there exhausted, gasping for this newly found air that surrounded me. I shivered suddenly as my muscles turned cold. My arms however were a different story. Warm with crimson liquid, I started down at them as my breath caught itself in my throat.
She knows me. She's my best friend and my worst enemy. Recently I had the feeling that she had gone away and left me here to pick up the shattered pieces of my life.
No. I smiled to myself. I felt a warm hand on my frigid fingers. "Still here." She said softly.
She was right. She's right here... and she always will be. With her grace to watch over me and a soft light to guide me, she'll weather me through this.
Welcome back, my lady of peace. Now is where the real adventure shall begin.
As quickly as I could, I went up the stairs, heart pounding; lungs collapsing. Surely I was about to pass out from lack of oxygen. Just a little farther. Only a tiny bit farther....
Quietly I removed it from my hiding place. I sat on the toilet seat, breathing heavily, but not seeming to get nearly enough air into my barren lungs.
"Do it!" She screamed.
Not hesitating a beat I listened to her, gliding the sharp, silver hotness over my arms.
My lungs filled.
I sat there exhausted, gasping for this newly found air that surrounded me. I shivered suddenly as my muscles turned cold. My arms however were a different story. Warm with crimson liquid, I started down at them as my breath caught itself in my throat.
She knows me. She's my best friend and my worst enemy. Recently I had the feeling that she had gone away and left me here to pick up the shattered pieces of my life.
No. I smiled to myself. I felt a warm hand on my frigid fingers. "Still here." She said softly.
She was right. She's right here... and she always will be. With her grace to watch over me and a soft light to guide me, she'll weather me through this.
Welcome back, my lady of peace. Now is where the real adventure shall begin.
It's an awkward silence that settles over us.
"I'm sorry. I love him"
"You what? No, no, no, Miss Jones. You can't love him." He sputtered clumsily.
She stared daggers deeply into his eyes. "Do you dare tell me what I can and cannot do? Are you telling me that now all has been said and done, I am to revoke all sense of dignity and independence for someone like you? No. I am finished with the fights. I am finished with the lies. I am finished with the pain. Most of all Wesley Bishop? I am finished with you."
His eyes held malice, yet I saw also all the sadness of the world. "Just one last kiss, I beg." He said to me, reaching for my ice cold hand.
I backed slowly away in disgust. "No, and never again." I thought of throwing in some spiteful comment. Something along the lines of 'You arogant pig'. I held my ground and my pride. I was not about to lower myself to that cretin's level.
"I'm sorry. I love him"
"You what? No, no, no, Miss Jones. You can't love him." He sputtered clumsily.
She stared daggers deeply into his eyes. "Do you dare tell me what I can and cannot do? Are you telling me that now all has been said and done, I am to revoke all sense of dignity and independence for someone like you? No. I am finished with the fights. I am finished with the lies. I am finished with the pain. Most of all Wesley Bishop? I am finished with you."
His eyes held malice, yet I saw also all the sadness of the world. "Just one last kiss, I beg." He said to me, reaching for my ice cold hand.
I backed slowly away in disgust. "No, and never again." I thought of throwing in some spiteful comment. Something along the lines of 'You arogant pig'. I held my ground and my pride. I was not about to lower myself to that cretin's level.
11.27.2006
Advanced Global Personality Test Results
|
personality tests by similarminds.com
11.26.2006
I woke up today at 1:00 pm EST to an empty house.
Last night seems like a terrible memory. One I'd really rather forget. It's all very silly really - the entire set-up of the story. Describing the setting of situation has to be my downfall as a writer. To me, it always sounds so juvinile and foolish.
But I digress.
I was sitting on my black bean bag chair much too close to the television. I had a crick in my neck. I decided to plug in my GameCube and beat down some Ganondorfs, Bowsers, and the occasional team Capitain Falcon. With my father behind me on the couch, I played my game while he made smart ass comments about my deaths.
The comments quickly ended. He was passed out behind me on the sofa. Something had to have been wrong.
My mother violently shook him awake. The light provided by the combined effort of our television and christmas tree revealed a drunken face I was all too familiar with.
I was beyond words. The pain reflected in my mother's eyes. I felt like hitting him with everything I had. I wanted to kill him to causing the pain to my mother. I wanted to run upsairs and cry. I did just that.
My mother came into my room and handed me a note. It asked him to move out. The note told of a sad situation that never seems to get better.
Drunk. Again.
Mom crying. Again.
Me having to console her. Again.
I was done. I left the house and went for an angry drive. A drive I'm all to familiar with.
That leads into waking up at 1:00 pm EST.
I pulled on my typical pair of jeans and the obvious threadless t-shirt and trudged slowly down the stairs. My every footstep echoed in the large, empty living room. Searching the floors, doors, and tables for any clue as to where my parents may have gone. I found a note of the kitchen counter.
Steph:
Rehab is nothing more than a motel where they send you to a bunch of AA meetings.
I'm checking into dive motel and going to plenty of meetings and seeing Mary.
I was just stupid enough to think that I could 'have a drink', I can't.
I know I can quit, I did it before and I will do it again.
I'm sorry for my stupidity and ask for your understanding.
You will see me because I will have to stop by the house for certain items throughout the week I'll be walking a lot etc..
Mom loves me enough to know what I have to do. It's sad but sometimes life sucks.
Don't forget to take the trash down Wednesday morning and water that Christmas tree!
Please destroy this letter. After this week I just want this to be a bad memory.
I love you both enough to get through this and be a stronger person next weekend.
Dad
**As you can see, the grammar and punctuation is wretched. Obviously not my writing. I have recreated the letter without adding my insight, tweaks, or corrections.**
I don't think I'll destroy it. Perhaps I will. Perhaps I'll go smoke a cigarette and burn a whole right through the mother fucker.
I feel as if that letter made things worse. It's a double standard. "Rehab is nothing more than a motel where they send you to a bunch of AA meetings. I'm checking into a dive motel and going to plenty of meetings and seeing Mary."
Then why not go into rehab? That's what it is, no? You've explained the situation twice.
You rotten asshole.
I hate you. I hate you beyond what I've ever felt for any human being. I hope you die realizing that I will never love you and cherish you like I ever used to. Although it's a dramatically overused cliche that holds no meaning to the majority of people in this wretched world, believe me that I feel so deeply in every sylable to tell you:
You are dead to me.
Last night seems like a terrible memory. One I'd really rather forget. It's all very silly really - the entire set-up of the story. Describing the setting of situation has to be my downfall as a writer. To me, it always sounds so juvinile and foolish.
But I digress.
I was sitting on my black bean bag chair much too close to the television. I had a crick in my neck. I decided to plug in my GameCube and beat down some Ganondorfs, Bowsers, and the occasional team Capitain Falcon. With my father behind me on the couch, I played my game while he made smart ass comments about my deaths.
The comments quickly ended. He was passed out behind me on the sofa. Something had to have been wrong.
My mother violently shook him awake. The light provided by the combined effort of our television and christmas tree revealed a drunken face I was all too familiar with.
I was beyond words. The pain reflected in my mother's eyes. I felt like hitting him with everything I had. I wanted to kill him to causing the pain to my mother. I wanted to run upsairs and cry. I did just that.
My mother came into my room and handed me a note. It asked him to move out. The note told of a sad situation that never seems to get better.
Drunk. Again.
Mom crying. Again.
Me having to console her. Again.
I was done. I left the house and went for an angry drive. A drive I'm all to familiar with.
That leads into waking up at 1:00 pm EST.
I pulled on my typical pair of jeans and the obvious threadless t-shirt and trudged slowly down the stairs. My every footstep echoed in the large, empty living room. Searching the floors, doors, and tables for any clue as to where my parents may have gone. I found a note of the kitchen counter.
Steph:
Rehab is nothing more than a motel where they send you to a bunch of AA meetings.
I'm checking into dive motel and going to plenty of meetings and seeing Mary.
I was just stupid enough to think that I could 'have a drink', I can't.
I know I can quit, I did it before and I will do it again.
I'm sorry for my stupidity and ask for your understanding.
You will see me because I will have to stop by the house for certain items throughout the week I'll be walking a lot etc..
Mom loves me enough to know what I have to do. It's sad but sometimes life sucks.
Don't forget to take the trash down Wednesday morning and water that Christmas tree!
Please destroy this letter. After this week I just want this to be a bad memory.
I love you both enough to get through this and be a stronger person next weekend.
Dad
**As you can see, the grammar and punctuation is wretched. Obviously not my writing. I have recreated the letter without adding my insight, tweaks, or corrections.**
I don't think I'll destroy it. Perhaps I will. Perhaps I'll go smoke a cigarette and burn a whole right through the mother fucker.
I feel as if that letter made things worse. It's a double standard. "Rehab is nothing more than a motel where they send you to a bunch of AA meetings. I'm checking into a dive motel and going to plenty of meetings and seeing Mary."
Then why not go into rehab? That's what it is, no? You've explained the situation twice.
You rotten asshole.
I hate you. I hate you beyond what I've ever felt for any human being. I hope you die realizing that I will never love you and cherish you like I ever used to. Although it's a dramatically overused cliche that holds no meaning to the majority of people in this wretched world, believe me that I feel so deeply in every sylable to tell you:
You are dead to me.
11.19.2006
I'm very frustrated with everything that's going on. I think I've counted five...? Yes five.
Then there are these lovely finals coming up, which I'm really not worried about at all. There is this annotated biliography that I'm not too stoked about doing because of my complete lack of clue as to what I actually have to do. It's due tomorrow... and I detest my professor.
Last night when coming up my front porch after work, I slipped on the ice, fell down 4 steps and landed on the right side of my hip. I have bruised the hip bone.
I want to talk to Steph... but I don't want to burden her. She's really my closest friend, but we seem to be drifting apart. I'm afraid I've done something. I love her dearly and I hope she realizes that.
I scraped my hand up pretty nicely at work.
I really don't know if I have enough money to make my Mastercard payment AND this month's car payment. My next car payment is due in 12 days.
When Jesse schedules me at work, he tends to schedule me when I have class, making me scramble, beg, and plead for someone to take my shift.
I never seem to be getting enough sleep anymore.
Hm, it's seems I've got 99 problems and my bitch IS one....
I wish I could fall off the face of the earth for a little while. Maybe if I get a little bit of time to think it will get all better? Eh whatever. The Thursday concert with Zavy was AMAZING. The last set was so touching I almost cried. My mouth was agape the entire time and I wouldn't be surprised that I looked like a complete tool.
I've got to try with my essay. I'll be heading out now.
Then there are these lovely finals coming up, which I'm really not worried about at all. There is this annotated biliography that I'm not too stoked about doing because of my complete lack of clue as to what I actually have to do. It's due tomorrow... and I detest my professor.
Last night when coming up my front porch after work, I slipped on the ice, fell down 4 steps and landed on the right side of my hip. I have bruised the hip bone.
I want to talk to Steph... but I don't want to burden her. She's really my closest friend, but we seem to be drifting apart. I'm afraid I've done something. I love her dearly and I hope she realizes that.
I scraped my hand up pretty nicely at work.
I really don't know if I have enough money to make my Mastercard payment AND this month's car payment. My next car payment is due in 12 days.
When Jesse schedules me at work, he tends to schedule me when I have class, making me scramble, beg, and plead for someone to take my shift.
I never seem to be getting enough sleep anymore.
Hm, it's seems I've got 99 problems and my bitch IS one....
I wish I could fall off the face of the earth for a little while. Maybe if I get a little bit of time to think it will get all better? Eh whatever. The Thursday concert with Zavy was AMAZING. The last set was so touching I almost cried. My mouth was agape the entire time and I wouldn't be surprised that I looked like a complete tool.
I've got to try with my essay. I'll be heading out now.
11.08.2006
I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house
That don’t bother me
I can take a few tears now and then and just let them out
I’m not afraid to cry every once in a while
Even though going on with you gone still upsets me
There are days every now and again I pretend I’m ok
But that’s not what gets me
What hurts the most
Was being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was tryin’ to do
It’s hard to deal with the pain of losing you everywhere I go
But I’m doin’ It
It’s hard to force that smile when I see our old friends and I’m alone
Still Harder
Getting up, getting dressed, livin’ with this regret
But I know if I could do it over
I would trade give away all the words that I saved in my heart
That I left unspoken
What hurts the most
Is being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was trying to do
That don’t bother me
I can take a few tears now and then and just let them out
I’m not afraid to cry every once in a while
Even though going on with you gone still upsets me
There are days every now and again I pretend I’m ok
But that’s not what gets me
What hurts the most
Was being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was tryin’ to do
It’s hard to deal with the pain of losing you everywhere I go
But I’m doin’ It
It’s hard to force that smile when I see our old friends and I’m alone
Still Harder
Getting up, getting dressed, livin’ with this regret
But I know if I could do it over
I would trade give away all the words that I saved in my heart
That I left unspoken
What hurts the most
Is being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was trying to do
10.27.2006
No Wes. This is a problem. She's going to LIVE with you.
I'm lost. I'm fucking lost. Wes' girlfriend is moving up... I will be forgotten by this man. I hate this. It's ridiculous and I don't understand why the hell I didn't just go to university. I mean what if, hypothetically I would have had his baby? Hmm? Would he leave me like this? Would I blame him? Can I now?
No. Because he loves her, but I put my ASS on the line for him. I staked all of my pride on this relationship. Hah! Not only my pride, please. I put my god damn reputation on the line! It's not like this relationship was looked on as a good thing. A older man? A father? With a near minor? No no, none of that. Even my boss considered firing me. I'm not a slut. I'm not promiscuous.
I was a girl in love. Well, I thought I was atleast. But do I wait? Do I wait for this ignorant fool to come crawling back like he's done once before? I don't want to grovel. I want him to grovel. I want him to realize that I was there for him no matter what. I stood behind him. I rubbed his back and kissed his cheek when his world blew up. I programmed his ipod for him without any reason other than his safety (He seriously could have fucked that shit up) and happiness.
"I need your grace
To remind me
To find my own
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Forget what we're told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life
All that I am
All that I ever was
Is here in your perfect eyes,
they're all I can see I don't know where
Confused about how as well
Just know that these things will never change for us at all"
Oh yeah?
And we wait above a road.
We're turning to go home.
And the silence from the side of the car
Tells me everything and how we are.
'Cause there's no more trying to make this so right,
There's no more trying tonight.
And you know it's not so easy when you're all alone.
And I wonder if I'm alone in your head.
I know something is wrong, I just dont know what to do.
You say it's only me and that I'm so perfect for you.
I don't want to try no more, I dont want to make this right.
I just want you to be true to me, one time.
Twelve days gone by since I have saw you last.
I'll give this one more try, I'll give it all my best.
And I'll ask "What could you be doing that is so much fun?
without me by your side?"
And I will take a step back, and I'll let you ahead.
And I will take a step away and see if you come back.
Because there's no more trying to make this so right,
There's no more trying, there's no more trying tonight.
We will never be the same.
We will never be the same until you're done.
And when I unexpectedly groveled and asked for him back?
Honey why you calling me so late?
It's kinda hard to talk right now.
Honey why are you crying? Is everything okay?
I gotta whisper 'cause I can't be too loud
Well, my girl's in the next room
Sometimes I wish she was you
I guess we never really moved on
It's really good to hear your voice saying my name
It sounds so sweet
Coming from the lips of an angel
Hearing those words it makes me weak
And I never wanna say goodbye
But girl you make it hard to be faithful
With the lips of an angel
It's funny that you're calling me tonight
And, yes, I've dreamt of you too
And does he know you're talking to me
Will it start a fight?
No I don't think she has a clue
Ooooh but she does. She knows damned well. Just as I know.
Wrong or right
Be mine tonight
Harsh world be damned
We'll make a stand
Love can bind
But mine is blind
Others stray but I won't
Walk away....
I'm lost. I'm fucking lost. Wes' girlfriend is moving up... I will be forgotten by this man. I hate this. It's ridiculous and I don't understand why the hell I didn't just go to university. I mean what if, hypothetically I would have had his baby? Hmm? Would he leave me like this? Would I blame him? Can I now?
No. Because he loves her, but I put my ASS on the line for him. I staked all of my pride on this relationship. Hah! Not only my pride, please. I put my god damn reputation on the line! It's not like this relationship was looked on as a good thing. A older man? A father? With a near minor? No no, none of that. Even my boss considered firing me. I'm not a slut. I'm not promiscuous.
I was a girl in love. Well, I thought I was atleast. But do I wait? Do I wait for this ignorant fool to come crawling back like he's done once before? I don't want to grovel. I want him to grovel. I want him to realize that I was there for him no matter what. I stood behind him. I rubbed his back and kissed his cheek when his world blew up. I programmed his ipod for him without any reason other than his safety (He seriously could have fucked that shit up) and happiness.
"I need your grace
To remind me
To find my own
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Forget what we're told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life
All that I am
All that I ever was
Is here in your perfect eyes,
they're all I can see I don't know where
Confused about how as well
Just know that these things will never change for us at all"
Oh yeah?
And we wait above a road.
We're turning to go home.
And the silence from the side of the car
Tells me everything and how we are.
'Cause there's no more trying to make this so right,
There's no more trying tonight.
And you know it's not so easy when you're all alone.
And I wonder if I'm alone in your head.
I know something is wrong, I just dont know what to do.
You say it's only me and that I'm so perfect for you.
I don't want to try no more, I dont want to make this right.
I just want you to be true to me, one time.
Twelve days gone by since I have saw you last.
I'll give this one more try, I'll give it all my best.
And I'll ask "What could you be doing that is so much fun?
without me by your side?"
And I will take a step back, and I'll let you ahead.
And I will take a step away and see if you come back.
Because there's no more trying to make this so right,
There's no more trying, there's no more trying tonight.
We will never be the same.
We will never be the same until you're done.
And when I unexpectedly groveled and asked for him back?
Honey why you calling me so late?
It's kinda hard to talk right now.
Honey why are you crying? Is everything okay?
I gotta whisper 'cause I can't be too loud
Well, my girl's in the next room
Sometimes I wish she was you
I guess we never really moved on
It's really good to hear your voice saying my name
It sounds so sweet
Coming from the lips of an angel
Hearing those words it makes me weak
And I never wanna say goodbye
But girl you make it hard to be faithful
With the lips of an angel
It's funny that you're calling me tonight
And, yes, I've dreamt of you too
And does he know you're talking to me
Will it start a fight?
No I don't think she has a clue
Ooooh but she does. She knows damned well. Just as I know.
Wrong or right
Be mine tonight
Harsh world be damned
We'll make a stand
Love can bind
But mine is blind
Others stray but I won't
Walk away....
9.14.2006
Ari came into this world screaming, weighing six pounds, two ounces with all of her fingers, toes, and other appendages in all the right places. Her birth was the happiest moment of my entire life, and the love I had already felt was more intense than words could ever explain. As I look over her baby pictures now many years later, I see one thing that remained consistent about her childhood; her small, white bear named Wubby was always in her arms.
As a parent who loves their child so much, you could obviously understand my strong dislike for Wubby. Although Ari was deeply comforted by this bear, Wubby would constantly plague my dreams. I would dream night after night about Wubby making Ari sick. The little beast, I’m sure must have been teaming with germs and filth. If it wasn’t Ari getting sick, I would dream about losing Wubby, or having Wubby falling apart in my hands as I held it. On bad nights I would wake up in a cold sweat and I’d have to go check on my little girl and see that her blonde head was sound asleep on her pillow and Wubby was securely gripped in her arms. I hated that bear, and there were certain days where I wanted to put a contract out on Wubby.
Despite the daunting odds that loomed over my little girl and her stuffed animal, I was extremely grateful and often found my soul at ease when Ari held her Wubby. I was able to be confident in knowing that she felt safe as she clutched her decrepit bear and sucked her thumb. Even though I knew that someday Wubby wasn’t going to be there, it was nice to know that she was enjoying her time with him now.
Little did I realize how soon Wubby was going to leave us. The summer after Ari turned 3, she and I flew alone out to visit my mother and father in Las Vegas. I tried to convince Ari to stow her best friend in my carry-on luggage, but she would not listen to a single word. I nearly lost my mind during that 5 hour commute. Ari had taken to playing hide and seek with Wubby all over the gate. When it came time for us to board, Ari was in such a fluster to get on her first plane that she left the poor, ragged animal underneath a row of chairs. I ran over to the bear and picked it up, sharing a wise word with my daughter not to leave things lying around.
We arrived in Las Vegas slightly less frazzled than anticipated. My mother and father received us happily with open arms in the baggage terminal. Ari rushed into her Papa’s arms and her Nana was right by her side ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the excited child. My mother fussed about the usual things such as my skin and bones appearance, let alone my own child’s slender frame. I chose to ignore her words as I had done a countless number of times in the past.
The final night of our stay, Ari was in the living room with her Papa playing what sounded like a rousing game of Candy Land. I was in the large kitchen with my mother, stirring a pot full of angel hair pasta. While drying off a plate, my mother began speaking in a hushed tone, as if she were to tell me a secret.
“I noticed that she still has that bear.” My mother said, not making eye contact with me.
‘Here we go again’, I thought miserably. I was well aware how my mother felt about children and security objects from her many conversations with her before. She felt that any type of object that a child became attached to would hinder the child and make them weak. This was the woman who threw away my baby blanket at the age of five when I started Kindergarten. Ever after 2 decades I found it hard to forgive my mother’s form of tough love.
“Listen Mom,” I said while unintentionally slamming down the spoon I was stirring with. “I don’t like Wubby any more than you do, trust me on that. But I love Ari so much that if she wants to keep him it’s fine by me. I don’t see a single problem with it.”
“If you really loved her, you would see how bad of an influence this is on her.” She said.
The case was closed. My mother and I were obviously never going to see eye to eye in the matter. I began to stir again. All throughout dinner I could feel my mother’s gaze burn into me as I watched Ari attempt to feed her bear pasta. I couldn’t contain my laughter as Ari’s grubby hands grazed the already graying fur, leaving red sauce stains behind.
The next morning Ari and I left for the airport an hour before our plane was supposed to depart. Truth be told I was looking forward to another six months of mother free time. I wouldn’t have to worry about another confrontation until Christmas and any number of variables could change by then. Ari could be over her Wubby stage by then, or I could come up with a strong argument even my mother couldn’t knock down. Ari and I boarded our flight and we were headed for home. Something was odd however once we reached our cruising altitude. My sweetheart began to sniffle and cry.
“W-wubby, Momma! W-wubby!” Big crocodile tears poured out of her eyes. It was then I realized that I hadn’t seen Ari’s bear since we crossed the security check point in Las Vegas. Seeing the pain in my daughter’s face made my nightmares come to life. Suddenly I began questioning myself. Why did I let her carry Wubby? Why wasn’t I more careful? How could I do this to my baby girl?
Ari cried until she made herself sick. As I held the bag in front of her mouth with one hand and pulled her long blonde hair back with the other, a mother in the seat in front of me turned around and whispered words of encouragement for me. She suggested I find a new bear for Ari to replace the old one. How simple! Why would a little girl want an old, rather disgusting bear if she could have a new one?
It wasn’t the same for little Ari though. She looked at the new, clean bear with contempt glowing in her eyes.
“Momma, that’s not Wubby.” She said matter-of-a-factly.
“I know sweetie,” I simpered. “but Mommy doesn’t know where Wubby is. Mommy may never know where Wubby is.”
She looked down at the new bear and began to tear up again. I held her tightly in her arms as my own tears began to stream down my face.
“You know what Ari? Mommy misses Wubby too. Mommy misses him very much. So I think I know what we should do.” I say assuringly, rubbing her back. “I think that if you are sad, I will be your Wubby, and when I am sad, you can be my Wubby. Does that sound good to you?”
I held my Wubby for hours, never letting her go. My Wubby slept with me in my bed that night. To the day, I still hold Wubby very close to my heart because of the joy he brought me and the closeness I was able to share with Ari once he was gone.
I have yet to write the conclusion....
As a parent who loves their child so much, you could obviously understand my strong dislike for Wubby. Although Ari was deeply comforted by this bear, Wubby would constantly plague my dreams. I would dream night after night about Wubby making Ari sick. The little beast, I’m sure must have been teaming with germs and filth. If it wasn’t Ari getting sick, I would dream about losing Wubby, or having Wubby falling apart in my hands as I held it. On bad nights I would wake up in a cold sweat and I’d have to go check on my little girl and see that her blonde head was sound asleep on her pillow and Wubby was securely gripped in her arms. I hated that bear, and there were certain days where I wanted to put a contract out on Wubby.
Despite the daunting odds that loomed over my little girl and her stuffed animal, I was extremely grateful and often found my soul at ease when Ari held her Wubby. I was able to be confident in knowing that she felt safe as she clutched her decrepit bear and sucked her thumb. Even though I knew that someday Wubby wasn’t going to be there, it was nice to know that she was enjoying her time with him now.
Little did I realize how soon Wubby was going to leave us. The summer after Ari turned 3, she and I flew alone out to visit my mother and father in Las Vegas. I tried to convince Ari to stow her best friend in my carry-on luggage, but she would not listen to a single word. I nearly lost my mind during that 5 hour commute. Ari had taken to playing hide and seek with Wubby all over the gate. When it came time for us to board, Ari was in such a fluster to get on her first plane that she left the poor, ragged animal underneath a row of chairs. I ran over to the bear and picked it up, sharing a wise word with my daughter not to leave things lying around.
We arrived in Las Vegas slightly less frazzled than anticipated. My mother and father received us happily with open arms in the baggage terminal. Ari rushed into her Papa’s arms and her Nana was right by her side ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the excited child. My mother fussed about the usual things such as my skin and bones appearance, let alone my own child’s slender frame. I chose to ignore her words as I had done a countless number of times in the past.
The final night of our stay, Ari was in the living room with her Papa playing what sounded like a rousing game of Candy Land. I was in the large kitchen with my mother, stirring a pot full of angel hair pasta. While drying off a plate, my mother began speaking in a hushed tone, as if she were to tell me a secret.
“I noticed that she still has that bear.” My mother said, not making eye contact with me.
‘Here we go again’, I thought miserably. I was well aware how my mother felt about children and security objects from her many conversations with her before. She felt that any type of object that a child became attached to would hinder the child and make them weak. This was the woman who threw away my baby blanket at the age of five when I started Kindergarten. Ever after 2 decades I found it hard to forgive my mother’s form of tough love.
“Listen Mom,” I said while unintentionally slamming down the spoon I was stirring with. “I don’t like Wubby any more than you do, trust me on that. But I love Ari so much that if she wants to keep him it’s fine by me. I don’t see a single problem with it.”
“If you really loved her, you would see how bad of an influence this is on her.” She said.
The case was closed. My mother and I were obviously never going to see eye to eye in the matter. I began to stir again. All throughout dinner I could feel my mother’s gaze burn into me as I watched Ari attempt to feed her bear pasta. I couldn’t contain my laughter as Ari’s grubby hands grazed the already graying fur, leaving red sauce stains behind.
The next morning Ari and I left for the airport an hour before our plane was supposed to depart. Truth be told I was looking forward to another six months of mother free time. I wouldn’t have to worry about another confrontation until Christmas and any number of variables could change by then. Ari could be over her Wubby stage by then, or I could come up with a strong argument even my mother couldn’t knock down. Ari and I boarded our flight and we were headed for home. Something was odd however once we reached our cruising altitude. My sweetheart began to sniffle and cry.
“W-wubby, Momma! W-wubby!” Big crocodile tears poured out of her eyes. It was then I realized that I hadn’t seen Ari’s bear since we crossed the security check point in Las Vegas. Seeing the pain in my daughter’s face made my nightmares come to life. Suddenly I began questioning myself. Why did I let her carry Wubby? Why wasn’t I more careful? How could I do this to my baby girl?
Ari cried until she made herself sick. As I held the bag in front of her mouth with one hand and pulled her long blonde hair back with the other, a mother in the seat in front of me turned around and whispered words of encouragement for me. She suggested I find a new bear for Ari to replace the old one. How simple! Why would a little girl want an old, rather disgusting bear if she could have a new one?
It wasn’t the same for little Ari though. She looked at the new, clean bear with contempt glowing in her eyes.
“Momma, that’s not Wubby.” She said matter-of-a-factly.
“I know sweetie,” I simpered. “but Mommy doesn’t know where Wubby is. Mommy may never know where Wubby is.”
She looked down at the new bear and began to tear up again. I held her tightly in her arms as my own tears began to stream down my face.
“You know what Ari? Mommy misses Wubby too. Mommy misses him very much. So I think I know what we should do.” I say assuringly, rubbing her back. “I think that if you are sad, I will be your Wubby, and when I am sad, you can be my Wubby. Does that sound good to you?”
I held my Wubby for hours, never letting her go. My Wubby slept with me in my bed that night. To the day, I still hold Wubby very close to my heart because of the joy he brought me and the closeness I was able to share with Ari once he was gone.
I have yet to write the conclusion....
9.12.2006
I'm writting this poem book just for you,
'Cause I don't have nothin' better to do.
I could mow the grass or I could clean the kitchen,
If I did that then Mom might quit her bitchin'.
My bed still ain't made, this place is a mess,
But I'm just too lazy to clean I confess.
It's now been three weeks since the bathrooms were cleaned,
The scum in the toilet is turning dark green.
It might be a little offsensive to some,
But my life would not be the same without scum.
Mom is always pissin' and moanin',
But the sum in my bedroom just keeps right on growin'.
Under my bed there is food, clothes, and books,
But I really don't give a shit how the place looks.
My make-up is scattered all over the place,
My mirror is so dirty I can't see my face.
I wish that I knew where the windows could be,
They're so fuckin' dusty I can't even see.
The closets are totally filled to the brim,
There's not even room for my clothes to go in.
All of the clothes from last month that I wore,
Are laying in piles all over the floor.
What color's my carpet? Please do not ask.
'Cause finding that out is a three hour task.
The radio plays music that just makes me cough,
If I could find it I'd shut it right off.
When I'm here after work I feel so alone,
But when someone calls I just can't find the phone.
When company's over, poor Mom is disgraced,
Because of the mess in this God-awful place.
The mess around here would make your head spin,
I'd clean it all up if I knew where to begin.
There's more everyday for me to clean-up,
but as you can tell I have just given up.
'Cause I don't have nothin' better to do.
I could mow the grass or I could clean the kitchen,
If I did that then Mom might quit her bitchin'.
My bed still ain't made, this place is a mess,
But I'm just too lazy to clean I confess.
It's now been three weeks since the bathrooms were cleaned,
The scum in the toilet is turning dark green.
It might be a little offsensive to some,
But my life would not be the same without scum.
Mom is always pissin' and moanin',
But the sum in my bedroom just keeps right on growin'.
Under my bed there is food, clothes, and books,
But I really don't give a shit how the place looks.
My make-up is scattered all over the place,
My mirror is so dirty I can't see my face.
I wish that I knew where the windows could be,
They're so fuckin' dusty I can't even see.
The closets are totally filled to the brim,
There's not even room for my clothes to go in.
All of the clothes from last month that I wore,
Are laying in piles all over the floor.
What color's my carpet? Please do not ask.
'Cause finding that out is a three hour task.
The radio plays music that just makes me cough,
If I could find it I'd shut it right off.
When I'm here after work I feel so alone,
But when someone calls I just can't find the phone.
When company's over, poor Mom is disgraced,
Because of the mess in this God-awful place.
The mess around here would make your head spin,
I'd clean it all up if I knew where to begin.
There's more everyday for me to clean-up,
but as you can tell I have just given up.
8.28.2006
8.25.2006
I randomly awoke some moments ago and listened in a half asleep stupor to the woman talking on the radio. It was some sort of show and she was reading a letter from a girl named Amanda. Amanda's best friend is overseas on exchange and in this letter she just poured out her heart. She tried to explain the heartbreak and pain she experienced from not being able to see her best friend, but somehow I felt her words couldn't have possibly been enough, much as I felt throughout my experience.
In that moment I thought of Ariana. I snapped into an alert state of mind and began to cry without warning.
I'm not sure what I'm even getting to here, except for the heart wrenching fact that I know perfectly well that I'll never be spoken to or spoken well of by her again. I've known it for some while now. It's not news. No matter what, I'll never be forgiven for a crime I didn't even know I had committed. Whatever that crime may have been, I plead guilty as charged. She had a reason.
Even if she doesn't ever want to see me again, I just want to say goodbbye one last time.
As I look back over the near eleven years that I have known her, we swapped gossip, nail polish, secrets, and even boys. Friends had come and gone...
But she had always been there.
And it rips my soul apart to know she never will be again.
In that moment I thought of Ariana. I snapped into an alert state of mind and began to cry without warning.
I'm not sure what I'm even getting to here, except for the heart wrenching fact that I know perfectly well that I'll never be spoken to or spoken well of by her again. I've known it for some while now. It's not news. No matter what, I'll never be forgiven for a crime I didn't even know I had committed. Whatever that crime may have been, I plead guilty as charged. She had a reason.
Even if she doesn't ever want to see me again, I just want to say goodbbye one last time.
As I look back over the near eleven years that I have known her, we swapped gossip, nail polish, secrets, and even boys. Friends had come and gone...
But she had always been there.
And it rips my soul apart to know she never will be again.
8.19.2006
I'm writting this poem book just for you,
'Cause I don't have nothin' better to do.
I could mow the grass or I could clean the kitchen,
If I did that then Mom might quit her bitchin'.
My bed still ain't made, this place is a mess,
But I'm just too lazy to clean I confess.
It's now been three weeks since the bathrooms were cleaned,
The scum in the toilet is turning dark green.
It might be a little offsensive to some,
But my life would not be the same without scum.
Mom is always pissin' and moanin',
But the sum in my bedroom just keeps right on growin'.
Under my bed there is food, clothes, and books,
But I really don't give a shit how the place looks.
My make-up is scattered all over the place,
My mirror is so dirty I can't see my face.
I wish that I knew where the windows could be,
They're so fuckin' dusty I can't even see.
The closets are totally filled to the brim,
There's not even room for my clothes to go in.
All of the clothes from last month that I wore,
Are laying in piles all over the floor.
What color's my carpet? Please do not ask.
'Cause finding that out is a three hour task.
The radio plays music that just makes me cough,
If I could find it I'd shut it right off.
When I'm here after work I feel so alone,
But when someone calls I just can't find the phone.
When company's over, poor Mom is disgraced,
Because of the mess in this God-awful place.
The mess around here would make your head spin,
I'd clean it all up if I knew where to begin.
There's more everyday for me to clean-up,
but as you can tell I have just given up.
'Cause I don't have nothin' better to do.
I could mow the grass or I could clean the kitchen,
If I did that then Mom might quit her bitchin'.
My bed still ain't made, this place is a mess,
But I'm just too lazy to clean I confess.
It's now been three weeks since the bathrooms were cleaned,
The scum in the toilet is turning dark green.
It might be a little offsensive to some,
But my life would not be the same without scum.
Mom is always pissin' and moanin',
But the sum in my bedroom just keeps right on growin'.
Under my bed there is food, clothes, and books,
But I really don't give a shit how the place looks.
My make-up is scattered all over the place,
My mirror is so dirty I can't see my face.
I wish that I knew where the windows could be,
They're so fuckin' dusty I can't even see.
The closets are totally filled to the brim,
There's not even room for my clothes to go in.
All of the clothes from last month that I wore,
Are laying in piles all over the floor.
What color's my carpet? Please do not ask.
'Cause finding that out is a three hour task.
The radio plays music that just makes me cough,
If I could find it I'd shut it right off.
When I'm here after work I feel so alone,
But when someone calls I just can't find the phone.
When company's over, poor Mom is disgraced,
Because of the mess in this God-awful place.
The mess around here would make your head spin,
I'd clean it all up if I knew where to begin.
There's more everyday for me to clean-up,
but as you can tell I have just given up.
8.17.2006
8.11.2006
COMEDY NIGHT
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
8.08.2006
I started writing this in my own house, on my own couch about to fall asleep. Instead I'm now in his basement, writing on his computer.
I haven't recieved an e-mail which I'm sorry to say isn't bad. Not hearing from you allows me to pretend that you've forgotten about me, though I know this isn't the case. It's kind of frustrating knowing that there isn't a god damned thing I could possibly do. It makes me want to crack out my box of Lucky Strikes and smoke right through to the filter. I don't take solice in knowing that I'm probably ruining somebody's life.
Today was my only day off in a considerable amount of time. I slept in, but am tired. I relaxed, but am tense. I ate but am still hungry. It feels like my life is half-assed. I'm not sure if I even mind it.
I haven't recieved an e-mail which I'm sorry to say isn't bad. Not hearing from you allows me to pretend that you've forgotten about me, though I know this isn't the case. It's kind of frustrating knowing that there isn't a god damned thing I could possibly do. It makes me want to crack out my box of Lucky Strikes and smoke right through to the filter. I don't take solice in knowing that I'm probably ruining somebody's life.
Today was my only day off in a considerable amount of time. I slept in, but am tired. I relaxed, but am tense. I ate but am still hungry. It feels like my life is half-assed. I'm not sure if I even mind it.
8.05.2006
I've worked 60 hours this week alone, and I'm working atleast 7 hours tonight. Don't you dare tell me that I need to work less, Mom. I'm not even sad anymore, because I don't have to be around you. You're killing me. You're the one who said I have to work 40 hours a week or else.... And suddenly I'm every parent's dream because I am paying my way through everything right now and you say that it's not acceptable. When will I be good enough for you, Mom? Will I ever be?
And I'm up in my room, about to change into my work uniform so I can go and slave away for another handful of hours just to fail at gaining your approval, and crying.
I hate you.... You'll never truly love me either.
And I'm up in my room, about to change into my work uniform so I can go and slave away for another handful of hours just to fail at gaining your approval, and crying.
I hate you.... You'll never truly love me either.
8.03.2006
I'm sitting in his basement you know. Sitting here, trying to watch this movie, but I knew. I knew there'd be some type of communication.
God damn it, you don't fucking know me. You don't know me. No one does. and I prefer to keep it that way. I don't want anyone, especially you to know me!
What the fuck am I supposed to do? What in the mother fucking world am I supposed to do to make this better? You don't know what it's like to understand how you feel and not be able to fix it. I CAN'T FUCKING DO IT.
This is fucking insane. I'm mother fuckin' gone.
God damn it, you don't fucking know me. You don't know me. No one does. and I prefer to keep it that way. I don't want anyone, especially you to know me!
What the fuck am I supposed to do? What in the mother fucking world am I supposed to do to make this better? You don't know what it's like to understand how you feel and not be able to fix it. I CAN'T FUCKING DO IT.
This is fucking insane. I'm mother fuckin' gone.
8.02.2006
Not sure why I'm upset.
Something has gotten me bugged however. I know Rick will read this, seeing as he 'checks it everyday' but I've got to get this out. Rick, listen. If you want to remain the way you are, happy or atleast blissfully ignorant, stop reading now. I'm about to let go now.
Well, Rick's been trying to contact me and I don't know how to handle it. A lot of the times I'm really not at the computer and cannot respond to any messages. There are other times however that I am at the computer and I try to play it stealth-like. He says he loves me, but I can't hurt him. I don't want to say that I can't love him. Truth betold I don't think I'm capable of loving anyone anymore. It's almost like I've put forward so much effort in all of my relationships that my spirit is broken and my affection is meaningless.
But I'm sorry, Rick. I cannot love you. You could love me, treat me well, save me from myself, but the truth is that I could never love you. And I hate myself for that.
I feel like dying for that last remark. I don't deserve to live if I'm causing this sort of pain to anyone. I know how he feels to be brutally honest. It's not like I don't still think about Alex daily, because I do. It hurts to think about him of course. It's hurtful to think that I spent years mourning and pining for him just to be ignored and quickly forgotten. If I were to die tomorrow, my last dying wish would be for him to say goodbye to me. A heartfelt goodbye and nothing more. It's so much to ask, especially for all that I have ever put him through.
I guess that this is not only a vent for me, but it's also an informal apology. I'm sorry I was abusive and I made you cry and I hurt you. It was never my intention. Who in the right mind would maliciously go after people and hurt them?
But if I could feel affection anymore, it would be for someone that you know.... I'll explain it to you later, but take solice in the fact that I can't give or recieve human affection anymore.
Atleast I'm a loveless hull. Broken and empty.
And I'm still sorry.
Something has gotten me bugged however. I know Rick will read this, seeing as he 'checks it everyday' but I've got to get this out. Rick, listen. If you want to remain the way you are, happy or atleast blissfully ignorant, stop reading now. I'm about to let go now.
Well, Rick's been trying to contact me and I don't know how to handle it. A lot of the times I'm really not at the computer and cannot respond to any messages. There are other times however that I am at the computer and I try to play it stealth-like. He says he loves me, but I can't hurt him. I don't want to say that I can't love him. Truth betold I don't think I'm capable of loving anyone anymore. It's almost like I've put forward so much effort in all of my relationships that my spirit is broken and my affection is meaningless.
But I'm sorry, Rick. I cannot love you. You could love me, treat me well, save me from myself, but the truth is that I could never love you. And I hate myself for that.
I feel like dying for that last remark. I don't deserve to live if I'm causing this sort of pain to anyone. I know how he feels to be brutally honest. It's not like I don't still think about Alex daily, because I do. It hurts to think about him of course. It's hurtful to think that I spent years mourning and pining for him just to be ignored and quickly forgotten. If I were to die tomorrow, my last dying wish would be for him to say goodbye to me. A heartfelt goodbye and nothing more. It's so much to ask, especially for all that I have ever put him through.
I guess that this is not only a vent for me, but it's also an informal apology. I'm sorry I was abusive and I made you cry and I hurt you. It was never my intention. Who in the right mind would maliciously go after people and hurt them?
But if I could feel affection anymore, it would be for someone that you know.... I'll explain it to you later, but take solice in the fact that I can't give or recieve human affection anymore.
Atleast I'm a loveless hull. Broken and empty.
And I'm still sorry.
8.01.2006
It's been very hot the last two days and I've been either beaten or bored. I worked yesterday and while I had the lead in sales by the end of the day, I also recieved the lowest amount of tips. I blame this on the fact that I wasn't a server yesterday, but rather a bartender that served food.
Today I woke up late with a pounding migrane and a not-so-sunny disposition. My parents had moved my bed yesterday afternoon while I was at work so the air conditioning could work it's magic and it would be clear of obstructions. Of course, every teenager at one point has hidden something under their bed. I on the other hand am not able to seeing as my bed just rests on the floor. I keep things behind the head of my bed because it's against a wall. When I walked into my trashed room yesterday I saw my humiliating defeat.... a 12 pack of condoms (unused of course), a beer can (I really haven't the SLIGHTEST idea how that got there to be honest), and a razor blade.
Out of everything, I just wish I could make up an excuse about the condoms. The beer can isn't too bad, nor is the razor seeing as I cut my own hair and I use a razor blade to do it. The condoms however... how do you explain something like that? Even if I told the complete truth about it, they wouldn't believe me. I try to think about how many hours Zavy and I passed in there by ourselves and seeing from my parents point of view only makes it worse. I'll never be left alone again with a member of the opposite sex.
So all the while today while trying to dodge my father's gaze, I've been playing around on the internet and writing random garbage (as displayed here). I went outside into the sweltering heat to water the garden for a bit of entertainment. Since it's hot outside, the blooming flowers must have been craving a bit of nourishment and I could certainly use the cool down myself. So I water the lilies and the marigolds, the ivy and the daisies. Just as I'm about to head back into the house, I see two plants about a foot and half tall each next to the porch and my heart began to sink.
One day in late March, or it could have been early April, Cinthia and I were in Tom's buying our groceries. When we get next to the Deli I saw that Jeff was working so we non-chalantly saunter over to the plant seeds and pretend to be looking for something so I could go into my spiel of how cute he really is. Soon enough we actually had taken interest in the packets of seeds and the pictures on them. Cinthia grabbed a packet of Zinia seeds and I had a packet of Baby Sunflower seeds.
As soon as Cinthia and I got home, we rushed inside to get two plastic tupperware containers for our new 'children'. We then went back outdoors and filled up the tupperware with potting soil on the hood of my Dad's car and stuck the seeds deep into the dirt. We went inside, watered them, then waited. In early May the threat of frost had passed and we went outside to plant our sprouts together. We no longer had to water them or take care of them and so eventually they were forgotten.
Seeing those stupid flowers planted right next to one another... so close that the leaves were touching made me realize how much I miss Cinthia, my best friend. Her plant had two, fully blooming flowers that rose up high above my plant. Mine still hadn't flowered, but there were also only two buds. As crazy as it sounds, it's almost like those two flowers were for us and only us. One for her and one for me. My eyes watered.
We thought her flowers were going to be pink....
I almost want to cut the flowers and dry them so I can keep them in my room and I'll remember her forever, but at the same time cutting them means they'll die and I know that in my heart my memories that we made together will never die.
I miss my sister.
Today I woke up late with a pounding migrane and a not-so-sunny disposition. My parents had moved my bed yesterday afternoon while I was at work so the air conditioning could work it's magic and it would be clear of obstructions. Of course, every teenager at one point has hidden something under their bed. I on the other hand am not able to seeing as my bed just rests on the floor. I keep things behind the head of my bed because it's against a wall. When I walked into my trashed room yesterday I saw my humiliating defeat.... a 12 pack of condoms (unused of course), a beer can (I really haven't the SLIGHTEST idea how that got there to be honest), and a razor blade.
Out of everything, I just wish I could make up an excuse about the condoms. The beer can isn't too bad, nor is the razor seeing as I cut my own hair and I use a razor blade to do it. The condoms however... how do you explain something like that? Even if I told the complete truth about it, they wouldn't believe me. I try to think about how many hours Zavy and I passed in there by ourselves and seeing from my parents point of view only makes it worse. I'll never be left alone again with a member of the opposite sex.
So all the while today while trying to dodge my father's gaze, I've been playing around on the internet and writing random garbage (as displayed here). I went outside into the sweltering heat to water the garden for a bit of entertainment. Since it's hot outside, the blooming flowers must have been craving a bit of nourishment and I could certainly use the cool down myself. So I water the lilies and the marigolds, the ivy and the daisies. Just as I'm about to head back into the house, I see two plants about a foot and half tall each next to the porch and my heart began to sink.
One day in late March, or it could have been early April, Cinthia and I were in Tom's buying our groceries. When we get next to the Deli I saw that Jeff was working so we non-chalantly saunter over to the plant seeds and pretend to be looking for something so I could go into my spiel of how cute he really is. Soon enough we actually had taken interest in the packets of seeds and the pictures on them. Cinthia grabbed a packet of Zinia seeds and I had a packet of Baby Sunflower seeds.
As soon as Cinthia and I got home, we rushed inside to get two plastic tupperware containers for our new 'children'. We then went back outdoors and filled up the tupperware with potting soil on the hood of my Dad's car and stuck the seeds deep into the dirt. We went inside, watered them, then waited. In early May the threat of frost had passed and we went outside to plant our sprouts together. We no longer had to water them or take care of them and so eventually they were forgotten.
Seeing those stupid flowers planted right next to one another... so close that the leaves were touching made me realize how much I miss Cinthia, my best friend. Her plant had two, fully blooming flowers that rose up high above my plant. Mine still hadn't flowered, but there were also only two buds. As crazy as it sounds, it's almost like those two flowers were for us and only us. One for her and one for me. My eyes watered.
We thought her flowers were going to be pink....
I almost want to cut the flowers and dry them so I can keep them in my room and I'll remember her forever, but at the same time cutting them means they'll die and I know that in my heart my memories that we made together will never die.
I miss my sister.
7.29.2006
Soooo...
I went off at 11.30 pm knowing very well in my mind that Jeff wasn't going to call in search of an open gas station. I wound myself through the streets of Traverse City in my car, also knowing that nothing would probably be open except for Meijer. Begrudgingly, I shifted into 5th gear and headed across town
Bored bored bored was I. After filling up my tank for an unheard of price of 3.08 per gallon, I decided to blow my last two dollars that I had to my name on a Slurpee and a 50 cent bag of sunflower seeds.
I wasn't exactly sure where I was driving myself, but I found parking at Bethlehem Luthern across from Bryant Park and walked along the beach. I pulled out a Lucky Strike and... dear God it was good. I hate smoking in all honesty. I think it's disgusting and I hate the fact that I do it, but sitting on the bench, watching the tide come in and glancing occassionally at the city lights made that cigarette the best one I've ever had. I felt lethargic. I didn't want to move.
I spent 30 minutes sitting there talking aloud to myself and realizing what a total dumbshit I must have sounded like to anyone who would have passed by. I spoke to everyone and no one about my trivial ventures. How I'm not really sure if I'm angry with Zavy or if I still love him. How I truly feel about Jeff and how I'm embarassed of my shyness when I'm around him. I don't care what he says. It may be cute to him, but to me it's a character flaw. Damn me. Damn me straight to hell.
And now I'm here, on my couch next to Phillip and wondering if anyone will ever read this garbage. These matters aren't important. If I were working a minimum wage job, ousted from the family and 6 months pregnant, then it might make for some interesting reading.
Oh pregnancy. The thought makes me cringe but jealous at the same time. I'd like a baby. I'd really like a baby. Right now even. I know, I know. I'm young and have a promising future. Here's the fact of the matter: no one would be interested in filling my uterus in this moment. God bless them all.
I went off at 11.30 pm knowing very well in my mind that Jeff wasn't going to call in search of an open gas station. I wound myself through the streets of Traverse City in my car, also knowing that nothing would probably be open except for Meijer. Begrudgingly, I shifted into 5th gear and headed across town
Bored bored bored was I. After filling up my tank for an unheard of price of 3.08 per gallon, I decided to blow my last two dollars that I had to my name on a Slurpee and a 50 cent bag of sunflower seeds.
I wasn't exactly sure where I was driving myself, but I found parking at Bethlehem Luthern across from Bryant Park and walked along the beach. I pulled out a Lucky Strike and... dear God it was good. I hate smoking in all honesty. I think it's disgusting and I hate the fact that I do it, but sitting on the bench, watching the tide come in and glancing occassionally at the city lights made that cigarette the best one I've ever had. I felt lethargic. I didn't want to move.
I spent 30 minutes sitting there talking aloud to myself and realizing what a total dumbshit I must have sounded like to anyone who would have passed by. I spoke to everyone and no one about my trivial ventures. How I'm not really sure if I'm angry with Zavy or if I still love him. How I truly feel about Jeff and how I'm embarassed of my shyness when I'm around him. I don't care what he says. It may be cute to him, but to me it's a character flaw. Damn me. Damn me straight to hell.
And now I'm here, on my couch next to Phillip and wondering if anyone will ever read this garbage. These matters aren't important. If I were working a minimum wage job, ousted from the family and 6 months pregnant, then it might make for some interesting reading.
Oh pregnancy. The thought makes me cringe but jealous at the same time. I'd like a baby. I'd really like a baby. Right now even. I know, I know. I'm young and have a promising future. Here's the fact of the matter: no one would be interested in filling my uterus in this moment. God bless them all.
3.24.2006
I hate my life. It feels like my heart has been torn up, blended, then made into some sort of primitive paste to heal someone else's wounds. At least someone finds my heartbreak helpful.
I can't help get sick. I feel like I'm going to be sick. I'm sitting next to the bathroom in hopes that if I do end up getting sick, I'll be right here. Maybe I don't even care. If I get sick all over myself I'm not sure I'd even be that upset. Big fucking whoop. Who the hell am I trying to impress.
I'm ugly.
I'm fat.
I'm mean spirited.
I'm self-centered.
I've nothing going for me.
...I'm going to be sick.
All I've left is that shiny metal razor in my wallet, and it's sitting next to me. Pick it up?
lips are turning blue
a kiss that can't renew
I only dream of you
my beautiful
tiptoe to your room
a starlight in the gloom
I only dream of you
and you never knew
sing for absolution
I will be singing
falling from your grace
there's nowhere left to hide
in no one to confide
the truth runs deep inside
and will never die....
I can't help get sick. I feel like I'm going to be sick. I'm sitting next to the bathroom in hopes that if I do end up getting sick, I'll be right here. Maybe I don't even care. If I get sick all over myself I'm not sure I'd even be that upset. Big fucking whoop. Who the hell am I trying to impress.
I'm ugly.
I'm fat.
I'm mean spirited.
I'm self-centered.
I've nothing going for me.
...I'm going to be sick.
All I've left is that shiny metal razor in my wallet, and it's sitting next to me. Pick it up?
lips are turning blue
a kiss that can't renew
I only dream of you
my beautiful
tiptoe to your room
a starlight in the gloom
I only dream of you
and you never knew
sing for absolution
I will be singing
falling from your grace
there's nowhere left to hide
in no one to confide
the truth runs deep inside
and will never die....
3.08.2006
It's been a little over 24 hours, and I am sicker than a dog. Besides sleeping, I've cried every single hour. My eyes hurt, my heart hurts, my head is throbbing.... Oh God take me out of my misery. I don't want to live anymore. Every breath hurts because with every breath I'm losing my ignorance.
I just wish it could have gone on forever. I hate myself. It's all my god damned fault. I'm the worst, the ugly, the rudest, the most terrible person on the planet.
I couldn't help it at work. I burst out sobbing while folding napkins. Everyone keeps saying "I know how you must feel." No you fucking don't. You don't know what it's like, not even a little. I don't deserve to live. Imagine how that feels, to know that you are trash and that so many people want to throw you down and out.
It all hit me like a ton of brick when I turned the corner onto my street and I didn't see his car parked there. I slammed on my brakes and screamed until I had no air left. I wanted to scream the life out of me.
I don't want your pity. All I want is for him to come back to me....
Please Zavy, come back to me. I love you beyond what words could ever explain. I love you without knowing why or how. You are the love of my life, and I need you in my arms.
I just wish it could have gone on forever. I hate myself. It's all my god damned fault. I'm the worst, the ugly, the rudest, the most terrible person on the planet.
I couldn't help it at work. I burst out sobbing while folding napkins. Everyone keeps saying "I know how you must feel." No you fucking don't. You don't know what it's like, not even a little. I don't deserve to live. Imagine how that feels, to know that you are trash and that so many people want to throw you down and out.
It all hit me like a ton of brick when I turned the corner onto my street and I didn't see his car parked there. I slammed on my brakes and screamed until I had no air left. I wanted to scream the life out of me.
I don't want your pity. All I want is for him to come back to me....
Please Zavy, come back to me. I love you beyond what words could ever explain. I love you without knowing why or how. You are the love of my life, and I need you in my arms.
3.07.2006
1.13.2006
1. I love Mario games.
2. To myself and in between close friends, I refer to myself as Princess Peach.
3. I wonder sometimes what I wouldn't give to be a queen and to wear beautiful dresses all the time and be loved for it.
4. I cried when I watched Edward Scissorhands.
5. I'm a hopeless romantic and want nothing more than to be held close and be whispered "I love you".
6. I am desperately seeking only one person's approval, the lowest number in years.
7. I'd gladly live the rest of my life poor and hungry if it meant that I could have friends. Good friends.
8. I regret having sex.
9. I'm not sure I've really experienced true love.
10. I over-estimate my budget a lot, and I end up bouncing my ass all over.
11. I believe I have poor morals.
12. I'd like to smoke pot just once.
13. I have dreams about being raped.
14. I've gotten very used to the idea of blow jobs and suddenly, they're not so bad anymore.
15. I live by the saying "You could slit my throat, and with my one last gasping breath I'd apologize for bleeding on your shirt."
16. I wish I could paint.
17. I want to cry right now.
18. My biggest dream is to have a family.
19. I lie constantly.
20. I wish I could believe in witch-craft.
2. To myself and in between close friends, I refer to myself as Princess Peach.
3. I wonder sometimes what I wouldn't give to be a queen and to wear beautiful dresses all the time and be loved for it.
4. I cried when I watched Edward Scissorhands.
5. I'm a hopeless romantic and want nothing more than to be held close and be whispered "I love you".
6. I am desperately seeking only one person's approval, the lowest number in years.
7. I'd gladly live the rest of my life poor and hungry if it meant that I could have friends. Good friends.
8. I regret having sex.
9. I'm not sure I've really experienced true love.
10. I over-estimate my budget a lot, and I end up bouncing my ass all over.
11. I believe I have poor morals.
12. I'd like to smoke pot just once.
13. I have dreams about being raped.
14. I've gotten very used to the idea of blow jobs and suddenly, they're not so bad anymore.
15. I live by the saying "You could slit my throat, and with my one last gasping breath I'd apologize for bleeding on your shirt."
16. I wish I could paint.
17. I want to cry right now.
18. My biggest dream is to have a family.
19. I lie constantly.
20. I wish I could believe in witch-craft.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
