|Saturday, March 11th, 2017|
5:49 pm - Broken
Just broken. Not necessarily in the heart or in the head. I feel this everywhere. I've known for some time. I joke about it. People laugh it off like I'm just being overly dramatic. They tell me it is going to be alright. I try to explain but it just feels like I'm speaking a similar yet foreign language. I try to tell people that I have a profound feeling like I don't belong. They brush it off. Even when I am being so direct and honest I get brushed off. I can't find another way to prove my words. I want to compare my feeling of ill with body dysmorphia. I genuinely question in every situation if I actually belong here: in that group of people, in that hobby, in that relationship, at that job, or on this planet. I think the thing I have found that comes even the slightest bit close to this is Impostor Syndrome. It is so far beyond that. I am broken. |
I can't talk about this in social media. To do so would invite false well-wishers and two-faced critics. There would be too many people who would comment that I'm seeking attention. Rarely would they say it to my face. I could cry here about how unfair that is. I could decry society as a whole. But I don't want to bother anyone with this. When I try to speak up, try to reach out, I feel as though people don't care. I feel as though I am unwanted, unheard, disbelieved. I want desperately to feel as though I am wanted and loved. I want to have genuine offers for help. I don't feel I can trust the words of comfort and kindness that people would offer me. In fact, they would make me feel more alone. That is broken.
I find myself in a position where I feel I don't have friends. My definition of friendship is perhaps different than yours. I have many acquaintances, to be sure, and I believe I am well regarded. I feel a lack of true friendship or even close companionship. I have created this mostly by myself. I didn't intend to. I just kept retreating every time I had bad experiences. I left before I felt I could overstay. I lost the ability to make those connections. I'm not denying some good friends exist. None of them live close. Extending the hand to form closer friends locally is exhausting and terrifying. I have come to a point where almost any time someone says something like "what can't you do?" or "you're so good at everything," I shut down and move on. That person can never be my friend because they will be jealous of me and it will make them leave. In more recent years, I have received several admissions of how I am intimidating (on multiple levels). Even writing that here makes me feel like I am being too egotistical in my acknowledgement of any truth to my talents, such that I fear telling people I am good at things so that I might be more liked. That is broken.
Expressing myself in this arena isn't quite the same as social media. I figure there are only a few who may still check this. I feel like this is safer. I even have the option, when I've finished writing, to make this private or not post it at all. I'm still debating as I type. This is and isn't a cry for help. I could express sentiment rife with passive-aggressive rantings and sobbing. I could play the victim. I could use the recent suicide of my brother as a metaphor or a warning (I realize the irony in those statements). I really just want to get things off my chest. I want to hope for a miracle. This isn't some in-the-moment cry for anything. This isn't a passionate plea or moment filled with such emotion that I finally put pen to paper. This is nothing new. This has been a part of my reality for near ten years now. If anything, I am hoping these words will help put something in the hollow part of me. By writing them they become something more tangible. They become a real thing that bridges the gap between my brain and the shell that houses it. This is broken.
If you haven't heard these words before or in a while that is because I no longer felt comfortable saying them. It is because people who try to help don't understand. They say things like, "I'm on this medication and it's making me better, why aren't you getting better?" It is because people who thought they would try didn't realize how much is needed. It is because no one really connects anymore. People don't support me, they try to pick me up and dust me off and go back to using me. I let them because it is easy to use that to feel wanted. It is enough to keep me moving. People offer words of encouragement and half-hearted attempts to ensure I am ok. People have their own lives and problems. Why should my life be worth investing in when they have troubles of their own? People don't know how to help even when I tell them exactly what I feel it would entail. They make excuses and back away slowly. It is too much. But they all want to tell me how awesome I am and how sad they would be if I weren't here. They want to puff me up. They use words. No one really speaks with action anymore. If they did I would have proof. I would be able to start to believe in words again. Broken.
I'm not even in a "depressive episode" anymore. I am still left with a lack of coping skills; left with no direction. I am certain any reader of this rant can find some relation. They can criticize my feelings as being selfish, lofty, and ideal. They might call me weak, sad, and dramatic. I remember when I was awesome. I remember when I fit in. I remember having coping skills (sometimes questionable ones, I admit). I remember functioning like adults are supposed to. I remember all the things that people have done to me (that I let happen) that shaped my views and steeled me against further harm. I remember being able to withstand them; I was stronger than their bullshit. As time went on I wore down. It's not just about depression, anxiety or PTSD (Which I am afraid to even admit to in my local military-based community for fear of stealing some weird glory in that diagnosis). The primary support I have gotten has kept a roof over my head but has left me feeling unwanted, unappreciated, undervalued, inconsequential, unheard, small and unimportant. It was a trade off I was willing to accept. It lasted longer than anticipated. It was a bad trade. It has left me more broken than I ever was before. My new reality is that I can't feel the positive. I kind find wins even in the small things. And all the defeats I have had of late are utterly crushing.
I feel irreparable.
current mood: Broken
|Friday, September 25th, 2015|
12:00 pm - My Favorite Faded Fantasy
You may never understand how wrong you were, and that is okay. |
Just know that you are loved.
I'm sorry you never met me.
I'm sorry you gave up the opportunity to do so.
It doesn't matter if I am in love with you; I love you.
You are an amazing person capable of amazing things.
You did amazing things for me and you Will do them for another if only you allow it.
Please allow it.
Don't surrender to apathy and fatalism.
Let life happen and open yourself to possibility.
Know that you CAN be loved.
|Tuesday, September 22nd, 2015|
6:54 pm - Everything You Feared Came True
You Weren't Smart Enough|
You Allowed Yourself To Be Intimidated.
You're Too Inexperienced.
I Got Sick Of You.
You Made Me Mad.
You Made Me Cry.
My Mood Gets Sour Whenever You're Around.
You Make Me Worse.
You Walked Too Hard On Those Eggs.
You ARE The Anchor In The Hands Of A Drowning Woman.
You Said THE Wrong Thing.
You Weren't Good Enough.
You Disappoint Me.
You MADE Me Fall Out Of Love With You.
You ARE A Horrible Person.
It's ALWAYS YOUR Fault.
Or Maybe You're Just One More VICTIM of Self Fulfilling Prophecy.
|Saturday, July 11th, 2015|
1:48 pm - The Path of Pain
I find myself in a situation that reminds me of the path of pain. This path was once described to me as the increasingly long drive home after picking up the takeout order containing your favorite food. Your food is there in your lap. It is warm and the smell starts to waft through the small space you are trapped in. You are the passenger and have your hands free to taste the food. Do you taste it? Does it make you salivate more knowing the incredible taste of this meal you still have to wait for? Or are you able to resist sneaking a morsel? Are you satisfied to be tormented by what you imagine to be the most amazing meal judging by smell alone? Either way you have to wait to fully participate in the sensations accorded you by this decadent feast. The anticipation is agony. Time dilates between long and eternal. If not for certain distractions you'd go mad. The desire growls at you from your core. The pain is intense but welcome. When you follow the path of pain you deny yourself until the very last when all you want is to derail despite the insistence of the life surrounding you. Your perseverance is rewarded when you finally are able to consume this perfect explosion of taste. |
There is a calculated risk you must take with the path. If you wait too long your treat can change flavor as its components meld and decay. If you wait too long your meal grows cold and, no matter your ability to reheat it, it never tastes quite right.
I am the passenger in this because I am no longer capable of navigation. The needle of my compass is pointing in a fluctuation of impossible directions. When your heart is the driver you never know when you'll reach your destination. There are moments where it takes every bit of restraint to keep me from pulling over to devour my intended meal early. I imagine and pretend to keep me from starving completely. There is a familiar satisfaction in the pangs of longing. I have learned to appreciate the tortures of anticipation.
If you can wait through the pain, hold yourself until the perfect moment, the meal becomes ambrosia. Until then you must dwell in the maddening aches of desire.
current mood: hungry
|Friday, July 10th, 2015|
5:49 am - The Question is Why
I find myself in a storm of emotion. It is violent and fluctuating. I find myself too frustrated to know what to write so I am going to lay out the stream of consciousness. I'm not editing this other than if I see it as I type. And yes, I intend to be vague.|
I'm exhausted and overwhelmed.
I feel broken and yet as if all things are possible. I am in love and I am terrified. The tempest of my innermost desires has broken free. I realize now what I have always been and have hidden for some time now. I NEED things. Often, these are unseemly things. I lashed out. I freaked out. I don't know what I'm doing or how to proceed. I find myself with a certain freedom that I am not sure how to proceed with. I fear that it's still just a cage. I am stuck no differently than I was before this freedom...it is illusionary. There is a beacon at the end of these revelations; A small light that I can only imagine because it seems that far away. Then I find I am lost in someone that seems impossible. He fills me in ways I've needed. He hurts me in ways I can't describe. I suffer withdrawals at his absence like an substance addict. I am weakened by his presence in ways that bring me synchronous suffering and joy.
I didn't sob. I immediately fell into violent tears...as if I felt all the things that were in his head that made him abruptly leave. There was almost no warning. There was a tone that suggested there was no talking to him. He was just unwilling to discuss. I felt as if I'd unknowingly betrayed him. I felt small and was devoid of the means to comfort myself. I don't know if all of this was just a reflection of my own turmoil, but It shook me forcefully to the ground where I lay blinded and breathless.
My situation is complicated.
There is no easy answer. There are just experiences. It takes risk. It takes something more to really live. Perhaps we should just end this now. Now is better than tomorrow. Now I am only a silly girl with silly dreams. Now, I am just a dalliance and you just a stone in this new path I tread. Tomorrow is utter heartbreak. I already feel it creeping in preemptively.
I want to run toward and away simultaneously. I want to walk until I find nothingness. I want to sleep until I no longer wake. I want to bleed to see if I am still alive. I want to try and see where things go but I can't leave the safety of what little I have to hold on to. I often seem bold and confident but you know I'm fragile. I am brave for others right now. I need someone to hold me a little bit until I remember how to fly on my own. It is unfair to expect that I can miraculously be unencumbered by this arrangement. It is unrealistic to believe that we could BE in the first place. And yet, I find myself entranced and entrenched. The odds stacked and tilting toward inevitable decay. Still, I cannot imagine a life in which I let this opportunity escape, if only you'd let me completely in. I would always wonder what could have been and I think you would too.
I don't want to think in terms of forever or even next year. That is the mistake that got me "here" in the first place. I don't want to think about the terrible complications of relocation or the tedium of banality that comes with time. That kind of thinking leads to quitting before the start. Life isn't about that, life is about living. You have to gamble. You have to just let things happen. You have to stumble blindly, railing against your fears. You have to let little traumas sprout in your soul to see it changed for bad AND for good. I cannot be concerned with what could happen if it tapers off. I can only care about what is now and the potential for future nows. I care about the shared experience of this one person because he is worthy of me. I deem him important enough to share all of me if he is only willing to accept it. He doesn't seem to understand that. "All of me" may not appear conventional under the current lighting but, "all of me" isn't hindered by my situation like it might seem.
My all is not over a span time.
It is there for the taking in every moment you choose to lose yourself and embrace it....to share it with me. "All" is intense. All is passionate and consuming. And you'd be a fool to lose the opportunity to experience it, even if all you participate in is a brief session of total connection you'd carry it with you for the rest of your life. I beg you to be as brave as you have been patient. I implore you to speak if only to unmask your worries to find that they are unfounded. I beseech you to give me more of you, uninhibited, and see where this goes in its own time.
current mood: quixotic
|Friday, December 30th, 2011|
1:21 pm - I just sent this as a response to a question asked. Thought I'd share...
My heart is on strike...and the Brain isn't wanting to meet the demands. There is a planned emergency negotiation so that heart can go back to work, but the Brain is not likely to just give in this time...there's going to have to be some serious compromises but the heart seems unwilling to settle for less.
12:30 am - Speechless
And then he told me he loved me|
Like it were commonplace
As if he'd said it a million times before
He said it as he walked away
Like a passing thought
As if it were lyrics to a well known song
It hung there like an icicle
Cracked at the edge
Held on only till some vibration would shake it free
I just stood there
Holding my breath
After the sharp intake of air
My mind was empty
For the first time in days
As if I'd forgotten the language capable of my tongue
It wasn't like I didn't know
He'd shown me the sentiment
I felt it from him physically only the night before
They're just words
Not a knife
But they cut just the same
There was no pain
But at a sting nonetheless
Not once has someone shot it at me before I at them
I know how it feels
To expose oneself
Unsure if it's mutual or if you're just a fool
I was speechless
I wanted to respond
He said it was ok, but I felt like it was not
Three little words
And another at the end
Was what I should have returned
I stood there
And then the door was closed
I stood there some more as the gears began to turn
Did I not share the thought
Or was I afraid that I do
I thought back
Through all the great loves that I've shared
And I remember that I had a harder time saying it to them too
|Monday, December 12th, 2011|
10:12 pm - I'm willing to admit...
In retrospect, I've probably had an anxiety issue for a long time. I think it's getting worse. I don't think I can cope with anything right now... and I'm too embarrassed to ask for someone to take over. I don't know where/how to get help around here. I've been reluctant in the past to take some kind of pill for these things because I had a bad experience or two with them before. It's getting to a point where it's taking over and ruining my life. |
3:48 pm - Catsup 2011
I feel better that I've at least contributed once to the mindless drivel that is internet blogging this year. |
I've had nothing to say. Once this was an excellent forum to vent my frustrations and be moody in a non-private, and not quite public kinda way. LJ was also a source of comfort to me...it was like confiding in all of my closest friends without having to actually bother them with my woes if they didn't really want to hear them. People were or weren't listening, and that was ok. I was writing as if to an audience but with more abandon and less fear of judgement.
I just haven't had anything to say.
Or maybe I didn't know how to say it...
I didn't want to be one of those whiny people who mope and vent and cry in words all the time on their blog.
I got self conscious?
No...the content of my life was no longer interesting to me, not even in my oh-so-bizarre way of seeing things. So I spared the details or lack thereof. It's not that my life is boring per se...it's more like my own perception of how others viewed my life was greater than the life I lead now, and the let down would be devastating if someone realized I wasn't living up to myself.
I'm vaping and drinking coffee as I write... I drink coffee regularly now despite the potential health hazards. Life is slower now but, not underwhelming. I think back to my life before in FL...I was always busy, always on...the only way I got time off was if I exploded into caustic bits that people learned not to get burned by again...and in 24 hours the fallout was over and people could resume their lives.
I think I'm able to talk a little now if only because I'm longing. Perhaps the recent weekend endorphin-rave / rabbit tag is assisting in that as well (Studies have shown, you know).
To the catchup:
I moved into my own place a little over a year ago, and it's been a depressing crazy living arrangement. Roof leaks, lack of insulation, 2 months without a kitchen and living with mice was one big toll. Being 8 ft away from my ex whom I feel indebted to (and will for a long time) has been...interesting, frustrating, and sometimes the only thing keeping me alive. I had to ask him to lock up his guns at one point. I found a job...that I hated...and was not quite fired 3 months later. I had a small stroke several months ago. The seizures are starting to really make their mark on the landscape of my brain and I now present behavior likened to schizophrenia...but is just part of the rewire of my brain. I've lessened my spiritual practices in the last year. I've struggled with my creativity and impulse to create. I've lost all sense of time management. I'm sometimes not sure if the world beyond what I can see from my window is really there any more.
My SCA career blossomed. I'm needed and wanted there. I get accolades and recognition in ways I didn't in FL. I love the group here. I hate the town and my life in it. I'm starting to get burnt out on the SCA stuff because I can't cope with the work (not because it's too much or too hard...simply because my brain is getting worse).
I broke a year and a half long streak and hurt my hip doing it. I'm laughing about it because you have to laugh. I got right back on "the horse" and tried again though, and it was worth it.
And speaking of horses, I got to check that off my "bucket list," since I have so many friends in the equestrian group here I've learned the basics of riding horses after all these years! Just like the first time I rode a horse I was knocked off. I shook it off and got back up there. I was seriously bruised, but that's the person I've always been. More and more I'm not like that anymore...and it's not always a conscious choice, which is frustrating...
I think that's a big part of what I've been trying to say. I guess it's hard because the people here haven't known me long enough to see a change in me. They have no basis for comparison. How do you stop being yourself? I'm not trying to be different...it's like more and more I'm taking the back seat and watching this other me controlling my body, and once in a while I get to be in control and be normal me. It feels so good when I can be me.
So I'm metamorphic at the moment, I suppose. Who knows what I'll be at the end of my chrysalis phase: A butterfly, a cockroach, a slug?
|Wednesday, May 25th, 2011|
8:07 pm - I don't think anyone will notice this post
Which is just as well. I'm posting here instead of more popular forms of media such as FB. It's not that I don't want to be heard, it's just that I don't want to be accused of some melodramatic attempt to gain attention. That kind of attention is the wrong kind anyway. I'm not trying to get attention. I'm trying to reach out and see if anyone even can help. |
I'm really at my end. I can't see the light, the forest through the trees....I can't find my way out of this paper bag.
No one can help me but me...that's the general consensus...but I can't help me, so where does that leave me?
I don't want to be useless....so why BE at all?
"Ask and you shall receive" is bullshit.
I know everyone has their own problems...I know those problems because I'm always helping you with them...
Why is there no one who can help me with the root of the problem? Why does everyone just treat the symptoms?
Why is the system the way it is? You can't get help this way!
I ask for help and I get ignored. I look and I don't find.
I'm not living...
I can't explain these things very well, that's the nature of the illness. Not being able to help myself is also part of the same illness. I find bits of pleasure....a little glimmer, a little taste...and I cling to them, and like a drug I have horrible withdrawal from them when they're gone. But at least I'm not doing drugs, so I must be ok...My brain is in a constant fog. I lose track of time....I'm afraid that everything is futile...so I just can't. I know this isn't me...I've been a better person. I was capable. I still have moments. But the more time passes...I have withered further. I don't even have the ability to form proper sentences, which is something that would normally annoy me from others. So now I'm a hypocrite... something I loathe more than anything!
I think I'll go back to bed. Maybe I just won't wake up, which will save me from trying to figure out whether, how, or when to make that happen by my own hands.
|Saturday, May 8th, 2010|
12:33 am - Now I'm portable again
My intent is to start writing more at any bizarre location I may be. I expect to expand my repertoire of drinks beyond that containing Jack Daniels (readers from the way back may know the joke). I want to write less about the BS of life...I want to WRITE.
|Thursday, April 22nd, 2010|
3:14 pm - I'm a little lost here
I'm having one of those round about arguments with no end in sight. You all know me...I'm not even the type that needs a ton of physical contact...|
I do need some.
I shouldn't feel surprised when I get a kiss or a scratch on the back.
I shouldn't have to beg...or feel like I'm inconveniencing you.
I just want a hug...someone to hold me when I'm down.
And for someone who claims to not want to hurt me...you sure make me cry a lot...and we all know how much I don't cry. I cry when I've given up...when there's no way out, nothing left to do, when I've already tried everything I can think of and still failed.
How can you sit there and watch me cry? You know you've caused it. You don't want us to be apart, but yet you sit there and let me cry...from across the room...while you turn it around on me that you're sick..another excuse..the same excuse...I was sick once too.
You think that your illness was so different than mine, so much worse...well, it wasn't. I remember how I lost friends...I remember how it is for the rest of my life. I remember how it ruined me in so many ways. But I tried. I gave of myself all that I could...I tried. I never stopped trying. I didn't feel very lovey dovey...but I tried, always.
It's not hard to try, you just have to be willing. And if you're making another excuse...it means you aren't willing. Which is our problem. You aren't ready for the kind of things I offer. You aren't the person who you should be if you want to be with someone like me. If you want to rise above your current existence then do so.
I'm worth more. I'm worth trying.
And I keep wanting to leave because I came here with a different purpose...one that I was WILLING to redirect. I thought that perhaps you were worth changing my plan for...to include you to make new WITH you. Instead I find myself using you as an excuse for not accomplishing what I set out to do. I thought you were on board. And every time I realize that I've used your excuses...used you as an excuse...It makes me want to go.
|Friday, March 26th, 2010|
11:45 pm - War Wounds pt. 2
So I've decided to start weaving...it's largely for Einarr, it fits his persona...and my backup. I got an Inkle loom to start with. He is supposed to build me a larger tablet loom later. I tried to take classes on the subject, but failed. I'm also taking up Naalbinding...for my Viking, again. I didn't get a class on that either...I got a book. Here's hoping I'm as good with these things as I used to be. I think I'll make a hat first. |
I made it to another Turkish coffee class. Same teacher as last year, but she was more prepared this time. Many of the classes I wanted were cancelled...I went to some replacement cooking classes instead on Tagine and ....I forget...I'll check my notes later. I'm very interested in my persona stuff...it just seems like I can never make it to my stuff...it's always other people's crap...ungrateful people who don't pay me. I was reminded of why I left Florida a lot last week.
I'm thinking of teaching some classes next year: so far the list is leather roses and masks, basic tooling, and make and take inexpensive viking broaches. Am I repeating myself?
It was nice sleeping 5 feet away from Einarr...he snores. I also sleep better in an air mattress than a regular bed. I have cats, so air mattresses were never practical for home use.
Things I missed most from the mundane world? My toothbrush...I should have just brought it with me instead of the travel one.
Things I didn't miss? The well water. My hair was better, my skin less dry...it's sad that the camp water was better than what I have at home...come to think of it...the kitchen facility was a lot better too...we really need to get the stove situation fixed. It's funny what you take for granted in life sometimes. Not that I have issues with that normally, it's just not something I encountered in a "home" in a long time.
The war came at an interesting time in my "year." It's been that long...my year of humility ended in July, but the real points of interest were around war last year, and what followed with Tal and such. It's taking longer to find, redefine...overcome all sorts of things. I will say it was nice to see Kro being more civil and somewhat as I remember him. Leading up to Friday...I kept getting the sick feeling...I ended up not fighting as a result of it. I just couldn't face it...I made excuses, I was a coward. I fought Saturday in the fort, for the first time.
I got my armor inspected at the ravine on Thurs...it's a good thing I was there. HRM had an issue with her helmet and we couldn't get it fixed fast enough..it's her favorite fight. She was looking despondent because they were about to start the fight and Einarr hadn't returned with the padding. I gave her my helm. I felt bad because she came off the field having had the chinstrap bolt on her...but just then Einarr had almost finished cutting the base for the pads...she was able to get right back in. I did my good deed for that day.
I had done other good deeds the day or so before, for the Outlands Queen...I remember being a retainer at war...I know what royalty schedules are like. I gave her my fabric and let her go first so that she didn't have to return to the later classes. I made a good impression I think to a great many people at war. I just need to get the rest of my life together...to find my motivation again...so that I can accomplish what I wish in society.
It was good to see Anna (my not quite daughter) again...along with most of the house members. I miss them greatly...but the distance is good for us too. The distance was good for Chris and I too, we've been too close in some ways, without me having friends here it's hard for us to be apart.
Anyway...that's my war report for now.
|Tuesday, March 23rd, 2010|
4:01 pm - War Wounds
I've survived my third Gulf Wars now...I say survived only because every year has some challenge to overcome. It took about 13 hours to get there, which is not bad, all things considered. It was really good to see my Trimarian SCA family. There were new faces as well as old, along with some people I can't stand...but all in all, good war. |
I was merchanting with Lynn again. Even after taxes, class fees, random food, and new toys, there was a surplus of money on the way home. Not a lot, but some. I think I need to consider different options in product for next year. I wish that I could also give lessons on how to sell better...but that's not my place to say. Maybe in a few years, I'll get my own spot. Which brings me to another topic: Household land.
I am hoping it happens that we do get some of the new land being carved out. There will be some things that need to happen as a result...water lines, walls, electric ties, surveys...work and money. There are a few people who don't know what it takes to make the beautiful camp luxuries we have happen. I know, because I've spent the last 10 years of my life making it happen, and mine isn't near as nice as Rising Sun's Cathy and Leo. Things are on my list...Point being, even though I'm not in Kingdom anymore, I will always pitch in where I can, and I will be a good responsible member of the house. I volunteered to run camp next year, along with Chris, if no one else they trust will be making the trip from Orlando to Gulf. Even so, I'll still help run the camp more so than normal. I don't like competing with Cathy. Like my mom, and any other Cathy I've ever met...it's their way that goes. I feel fortunate enough to understand this fact, and have a whole lifetime of practice in finding my way through that experience, and being comfortable working within the parameters given.
We had some issues with both glory hounds and unappreciated people. There was not near enough communication on some of the issues that erupted. I have experience with this too. Solution...plan better, or put someone else in charge. I think what I'd like to do is start notating issues, and potential solutions to our normal camp problems, such as scheduling and chore lists, then add the list of potential new challenges that may come from new lands and present them at the next house meeting...just to show how serious I am. I don't like to take charge of groups unless I have to, or the leadership is lacking. I'm a really good leader, but I am best when I have 1 good partner (too many voices suck) or am left to myself to make it happen. I tend to inspire people into doing their best work. The extra challenge to all of this, besides the meal plan itself, is that in addition to all of my other duties at war, I fully intend to teach classes next year.
I got to more classes this year than any of the previous. I gave up towards the end of the week because I was tired, confused, and a little nervous about fighting, etc. It's hard to balance all these things, and here I am wanting to do more? I'm insane.
My computer just gave me a battery warning on my keyboard? I'm going to post this and finish the sentiment later.
|Monday, February 15th, 2010|
2:57 am - Here's the best I can give to you...
Don't use the word "promise." From you this word has been nothing but a disappointment. |
Evidence can be a great number of things. Words CAN be enough if they are the right words.
Sometimes people do need grand sweeping gestures, because everything in their lives has become so monotonous and so mundane.
Sometimes grand and sweeping is as simple as unprompted serious shoulder rubs when the other is stressed.
Any continued affection is needed. Not all that much, but any at all.
Have we had but one serious meaningful kiss? Serious here means you being serious or putting any feeling behind it at all.
You have to prove things with action. Your words are lacking. This is a show don't tell world...so SHOW me that you're capable. I can go off and find a new life...but I was trying to start one WITH you. I have slowed down even further...which means I truly am dead.
|Monday, November 23rd, 2009|
3:10 pm - A little doubt is good
It reminds me that I'm human.|
It keeps me on my toes, so that I can compete with my self image to better myself.
And most importantly, it allows life to maintain the element of surprise, which I hold in high regard as a necessary thing for happiness in life.
|Sunday, November 22nd, 2009|
8:56 pm - I am Goldilocks
I found this new house in the forest...|
a quaint little cottage
When I arrived there were three options laid out before me.
I tried the first, and it was too hot.
The second was too cold.
Now please...let the third be just right.
2:25 pm - I can't remember this has ever happened
Someone wrote me a poem.|
Be still, my beating heart.
|Sunday, November 15th, 2009|
4:23 pm - My impressions of the new world
I've been here for two weeks. I have walked many miles and been spared even more by strangers. I thought that it would take some getting used to that people actually still share politeness with strangers they pass on the street. I find it harder to believe, but have experienced first hand, strangers helping strangers, because. |
I walked down Berkley for a few miles on Thursday. I stopped at several places during my exploration. Despite all my stops, It took a little over an hour. The town isn't huge nor is it tiny. I stopped at the Asian market and look forward to having money to spend there. I stopped at Schlotzsky and verified that they still make my favorite little pizza. I stopped at the Bank, finally. I found a little used bookstore and bought a paperback.
I went to the Royal Tea restaurant.
I went there on a tip from the grapevine...yes, I've been here a week and a half at that point and I was already tapped into the network. I'd heard that they lost some servers, and though waitressing is something I almost never do, I went anyway. I can tell you that they are great people. I can tell you I want to go eat and drink tea there. I would love working there even every so often. I met the owner, and she was lovely. I was very honest with her, and her with me. I probably won't get the job, but this isn't a problem at all. The owner drove me around on her errands and dropped me downtown.
Later when I was leaving the Library, and it was raining hard, I saw a car edging toward the light and looking at me. The car looked like the same one the Tea House owner had...I thought I was about to get a scolding. Sure enough though, this edging car was checking me out, and rolled down the window. It was a different woman and child than I'd left before, but they offered me a ride if I wanted out of the rain.
That would never happen in Orlando. If it did, it would have to make the evening news. "This just in! Someone got over their fear and helped a stranger just because." They might have you baker-acted in Orlando for helping a stranger on the road. Because today, you can't stop to help the sexy chick who's showing leg fix her flat tire for fear that she's part of a scam, or that she's a man. It's not that the people in Florida are bad, or any less friendly and loving a people on a whole...but their attitude has become that way.
Everyone keeps asking me why I moved HERE. People are nice here. People respect here. Because there's a wonderful little life they have here, and they took it for granted, but I'm here to show them what they have through new eyes.
So, I had some dinner picked up some cloves, and finished my trudging through Ida. I got to open mic at Poetic Shangri-la. I got up for the first time in years and read some old pieces. I miss that. I miss that me. Even if there is a coffee house already here, and it's not mine...I'm going to help them thrive. Because I miss this me. I am thrilled to have found it again.
I didn't make it to the comic shop. That will be on Monday now. I got a call for an interview for a job.
I met with a few local gamers. We're gonna start some D&D in a few weeks.
I'm hearing a lot of good things are in Greenville. So far almost all of my new friends outside the coffee house live there. I will be exploring that more later.
I had a "date" last night.
I put quotes around it because my definitions of such things never seem to match. I go on more "not date, coffee dates," than actual dates. I don't like dating. Why can't I call them trysts or 1st meets or hanging out with potentials? I don't like the labels used in romantic relations. I don't want to call it a date because it connotes things that I don't want to think about yet. I'm not going to be ready to think about that for a little while. I just got here to this new world. I'm a babe in the woods, a child seeing a new world with fresh eyes. I can't be thinking about dating yet, I'm just too young, I don't know the rules.
He's a nice guy...which could sound ominous. I'm not sure yet what to make of him. I had a good time. There were some quirks...cutting my meat...was weird to me. But, I was warned, and tried it, cause you never know...I found it odd, but not insulting. He seems a little over enthusiastic about me. I'm used to this to some degree...it is somewhat off-putting, but I'm not holding it against him.
I'm not sure I'm feeling it. I don't know if it's me...I haven't felt anything for a long time. I just hope that Keegan was right, and Michelle was right, because I think that feeling would be good again.
But that's what this is all about. I've escaped from the weight of my old life, where I allowed people to hold me back; where the heat and humidity limited my pace. I needed to find the core of me. It's not reinvention, it's uncovering and integrating the me that got buried, and the me I forgot on Marks street, and the me that fell away from acting, and the me that was spiritual, and the me that was never afraid, and the me that could conquer mountains. I was sick from holding back. I don't care if this is a small pond, if my fish self is too big, we'll make a bigger pond. There is nothing pretty about small sick fish in large ponds. The face of my watch reads "I am here now," which at this moment is an affirmation announcing my arrival to the pond. Look out because there is no 4th wall in my dimension, I'm talking right to the audience, and the mirror that keeps my seat warm while I'm on stage.
I don't think I should be "dating" because I don't want to fall into old traps. And I'm just being honest here, because it is what's in my head. Because I want to set the precedent. I don't want to be over polite.
There is one thing so far I'd see this town change. They need more sidewalks.
current mood: cheerful
|Thursday, November 5th, 2009|
10:40 pm - Influential People I used to know: Pooka
I say used to, because this is a new age. |
This is the new me waking up from the dream of what was.
I've had many fond remembrances of people I knew in my former life. Some were very influential. Some, no matter how small their input, will stick with me forever.
I was playing Vampire in downtown Deland and went to Denny's afterward. I asked if I could steal a fry from someone and the gentleman to the right of me threw his hand in my face and said I didn't need to steal him...or some such. I like name-food jokes. My common name is a cheese. This has come in handy on more than one occasion.
How we ended up dating was odd. I think someone's car broke down...I kissed him. We were both surprised.
Then there was the night I dropped LSD. I remember several influential images from that vision quest:
1. Watching the world wake up
2. Screaming with no sound with all my rage at all the people who caused me grief, via the frosted window back lit by a street lamp.
3. He turned around to get a drink from the kitchen. I grabbed at the "tail" in the air behind him...he yelped and jumped out of my grasp...
4. Later he became Pan...and my bedroom turned into an enchanted forest...I made a lot of noise...my roomate was drunk asleep, he didn't hear us.
These events are often summed up by the phrase "My boyfriend turned into a cat and then I fucked a goat."
But there are other famous lines that come out of that era, such as: "OH, Two Tacos."
I remember his mother's obsession with Beanie Babies and his father's fixation on antique table lighters.
Thanks to them I finally got to see enough Red Dwarf to fall in love with it.
I wrote my first large convention pre-generated game that actually made it into production. I got to see Pooka in a frustrated rage (this was a rare thing).
There was the burp that stump heard from me in orlando, while he was in the dining room at Pooka's house.
I'm not sure what lessons I can say I learned, but I do believe in fae. Pooka provided a grander understanding of that for me in retrospect. I wish I'd seen it sooner. I still ring a little imaginary bell hanging from the rear-view mirror of any car I'm in when I pass an accident or broken car on the side of the road.
I haven't had an accident or truly broken vehicle yet.
current mood: nostalgic