sitting in a drafty house

it's cold today. everything was frozen when i got up, and i think my zucchini plant is pretty fucked. every once in a while i sit down to "blog" with grandiose expectations, and then i completely forget what inspired me in the first place. i suppose i could write about my psychotic mother. well, psychotic probably doesn't work, but there's something just-not-quite-right about her.

so here goes: an attempt to let this shit go!
yesterday we were getting together to go to my sister's house. it's about an hour drive, and my mom gets home around 2 in the afternoon, so i tried to get there "on time". now, keep in mind this was a leisurely trip to have fun with my sister and her kids. i left my house about 10 minutes to 2, expecting to hit every red light on my way, because i was in a hurry, and we all know what that's like. i wanted to be heading to my car at 1:30, but Oli was napping, and i hate having to wake her on purpose. so i did, and she was channeling all of the hate of the world through her fat little cheeks, and protested every step of the way. (did you know, toddlers have the capability of going completely limp, and they do this thing with their arms to make them all slippery? i liken it to when a snake un-hinges it's jaws, but kinda the opposite.) so i was a little late.
when i pulled up to my mother's house, she walked angrily to my car to scowl at me. (oh, back up a second. when i was 2 blocks away from her house my cell phone rang, and i didn't answer it because, well, i just don't want to ever give any law enforcement the excuse to pull me over.) so we arrive at her house, and she also channels all of the hate of the world at me through her eyes, the scowliest scowl to have ever scowled. "Hi," i say. "You're late," she replies. Ok, here we go! "I'm sorry, there was an accident on my way here," i reply (no lie, a major street to get to her house was totally backed up, some ninny had a flaming engine in the middle lane and no one knew what to do!). her anger doesn't subside. "You know, I am sorry, it's hard to deal with a screaming toddler the whole time I'm attempting to get her ready, I didn't mean to be late," still hatred, "Would you like me to go through every reason I'm late? because I can, I got Olivia up at 1:38, she screamed at me when I brought her downstairs, I changed her diaper, and she protested when I tried to put on her shirt, then I fought her to get her strapped in the car, and she finally settled down. I hit every red light on my way here, and there was a huge accident on Air Base [parkway, the major street]." I explained in a heated fashion, I was quite annoyed at this point. "It's almost 2:15. You said you'd be here at 2." WHAT THE FUCK! I mean, didn't I just explain?
I was really REALLY close to calling her a bitch. I mean, really! "Look, it's not like i wanted to have a psycho toddler. I really am sorry." Why the big deal? When I was on my way home later last night I checked my phone, she called me at 2:07. 7 whole fucking minutes late. where's the proportion in which this was blown?! I mean fucking get a life! seven minutes doesn't make that big of a difference.

i wish this wasn't such of a rant, but it is, so whatever. perhaps next time i write a blog it will be all inspirey or something.

learning from life?

there was a stripper that looked a lot like me. not like she could be mistaken for me, but we had similar bodies. it's sad that i had to see someone shaped like me to realize that my shape actually is sexy. i think that's one reason why i feel so connected to portland. strange, but true. when she walked on the stage, she commanded my attention. she wasn't stick thin, she wasn't perfectly toned, she was beautiful.

i was looking through old magazines last night, just relaxing in the living room by myself, and i felt truly attractive. i can't say i've ever really felt like that before. i felt beautiful, sexy, and like me. it was nice. i still feel like that today. it's a relief, opposed to the frump i've felt, well, forever.

i'm here, but i'm still not back.

i went to portland. it was wonderful. not to just see those people near and dear to my heart, nor to meet new people, but to feel like i finally belonged somewhere. a woman said to me that "portland is what san francisco wishes it was". that statement rings so true to me. i didn't feel shunned, or scoffed at in any store we walked into, i didn't feel mediocre in any way. it felt, well, like i just went home for the first time. no melo-drama, just fact. everyone there was so kind and polite. if you bump into someone, there's an apology, in the 5 days i was there, i encountered one asshole driver. 1. i mean it, just the one. no one honked, no one sped up on my ass, no one cut anyone else off. it was the largest small town i've ever been to. i've been back here since monday night, and i'm still in oregon. it's sad, i wish we were there so badly. ezra isn't sold on the idea yet. obviously, having never been there, he's skeptical. and i'm on my way to being heart broken.

i guess it really doesn't matter where we end up, "as long as we're together"... so cheesy, but apropriate. i was quite lonely in portland, sort of. it was nice being switzerland. i was the neutral ground. i suppose that's how you can tell if you're a cool person or not. i am: no chance at pussy, because i am married; a confidant woman (again, no chance at the kitty); totally unattainable (sexually); and... yeah, a cool person. people still wanted to hang out with me, probably more so once they found out that "my family" wasn't a cult.. haha..

driving "home" felt so empty in context. i was so excited to be back with my family, but the location made me want to heave (what's new?). the colors are all wrong here, the hue is off. and i've already invited Elfie to move up there too. i think she'd thrive there. hell, i think anyone with an open mind would thrive there. everyone that i talked with that grew up there loved it.

but really, i was watching Sesame Street with Olivia earlier today, and we caught a segment with Grover. i suddenly had a flash of how i used to feel when i lived on my own in san francisco. after Davin left, i would hang out with Kim. she came over and asked me if i had anything to put on her Grover doll's head to make a Super-Grover. so i gave her a little metal dipping cup i'd gotten from some restaurant somewhere. strange the things that thrust you into another time. it was comforting to feel that in my belly. i can't describe it well. it was warm, and a sepia-orange. i think it was my confidence. i can't really think what else it could have been.

completely sidetracked.

i was hunting through music to put on the good ol' iPod for the roadTrip... and i came across that which i'd been remembering a lot recently. it's beethoven. i can't really "label" myself as a fan of classical music, but i do find it enjoyable at times. it takes me back to a time when things were simple. it's one of the piano sonatas, (Moonlight) (1) Adagio sostenuto -- attacca. i know, that's a frickin mouthful. but the music speaks to my soul. this is the song i can't live without.

it's strange how utterly sidetracked i became before sitting down to write this. all of the urgency has escaped me. the fucker from down the street came home blasting his music from his "bumpin' stereo" or whatever the kids are calling it these days. keeping oli awake is all i care about. and the music only got louder. so i went to my drive way, where i could see the culprit, and he didn't realize anyone else in the universe existed. so i haughtily stomped back into the house, grabbed the air horn, went back to the driveway, and let loose. it was gratifying, and he stopped the music. of course, i'm passive aggressive, and i assume everyone else is, so i promptly went back inside, locked the front door, and continued to watch my hands shake with adrenaline. kind of a lame use of adrenaline, i know, but that's what happened.

then i logged into my blogger, and caught up on friends blogs that i'd neglected for a little while. so, here i am, still in love with that song, and in hate with my effing neighbors, searching through album after album on my husbands itunes.

by the way, "hilarious" is something i will always mis-spell. i always put two "l"s. fun times.

a constant struggle to become an adult

halloween. too much alcohol, and too many kinds. as a whole, i had a pretty good time. in the moment, i enjoyed the company, familiar faces, and random passing of time. ezra barfed, passed out, and so did i, but later in the evening. thankfully, i no longer attract drama, in the direct sense, i only hear about it. i am quite relieved that is no longer a part of my life.

i was able to fraternize with people i hadn't seen in a while, catch up on the goings-on, and it came to me, that one of the only things people ever talk to me about anymore, is Olivia. like that's all there is to me anymore. thankfully, an external sourse verified that i am, indeed, more than just a mom. the drunk-brain was about to think otherwise, which wouldn't have been good.

so i woke, with a headache, and the knowledge that anything in my tummy would make me barf, again. even water. so i take a tums? yeah, i was all fizzy. don't reccomend it at all. but pot, yeah, that was the life saver. settled the tummy, i was able to drink my vitimin water, and i napped a little in the car, then took over driving home.

the rain was so bad this last weekend, what normally is a 1 hour drive (plus a little) was just under 2 hours. the puddling on the freeway was terrible, and visibility was pretty bad too.

if you haven't voted yet, you totally should.

Portland

Heather and I are planning a trip to Portland, Oregon. And I am excited.

Actually, excited is a bit of an understatement. We were originally going to visit her friend, Alpha-Heather, but she moved back to San Francisco. So, we still wanted to go there, for reasons unknown to both of us really. I think it's just the idea of going, and it seems like as good a destination as any. We both know people there, so we'll get to visit with friends we haven't seen in a while, but there's an excitement that goes deeper than that.

Our friend, Genevieve, text messaged me yesterday, asking if I'd been there before. I replied that I hadn't. She told me that I was going to feel like I just got home.

I think that's a feeling I haven't had in a long time.
I'm not sure I've ever really felt that. Living here certainly doesn't make me feel that way, and I don't know that the east bay will either. I mean, Alameda seems like a great town, but is that where we belong? Portland is a ways away, being about 9-10 hours away, which is no minor drive to grandma's house, but at the same time, I wonder if distance from my fucked-up-ass-family might not be just what the doctor ordered.

Might I add, on craigslist, rent seems to be about $1000 a month for a 2 bedroom apartment/house. There are almost 1000 listings for 2 bedroom places, with pictures, that accepts cats in Portland. How is it not a destination? So why the urge for such a drastic change? I still haven't figured that one out yet.

the best dream to have right now.

a few nights ago i had the best dream. you know that feeling of falling in love? of knowing that it's just... right. that solid knowledge that, yes, this is going to be the person i spend the rest of my life with. ok, so maybe you haven't felt that, exactly, but i have. and then my parallel universe showed me the what-coulda-been of an alternate past.

so here's the dream:
it was around the time i met Ezra, i'd been working at the Green Tortoise Hostel, just like in real life. instead of us dating right away, we were just friends. we'd hang out all the time, with Heather, but it was nothing romantic. this goes on for about 8 months, and Heather suggests that we date. she saw how much we liked being around eachother, and knew that it would be "weird" for me to compromise the friendship, so she talked him into asking me out. the persuasion wasn't that hard. so i get a call, and he asks me to go out to dinner with him the following evening, and instructed me to dress nicely.

so we're at the end of the date, which went well, and then it kinda speeds through to the present, and it's the same as it is now, excepts Olivia is just being born.

it's like i got a confirmation that our lives would be the same regardless of when. like the end result could only be one way. it was nice. it felt like i was falling in love. end dream.

i woke up, it was 5 am. i asked Ezra if he was awake, he responded, so i told him that i had a dream that we had just fallen in love. i couldn't help but snuggle into his back and feel all fuzzy inside. it was so lifelike.

something for the ages

there's nothing really to report, yet i feel like i should write. like i have to. it's one of those things that just... needs to happen. i have had some excellent ideas the last couple of days, where "gee, that would make a great blog topic", but alas, no blog, so the topic was forgotten.

i've been more creative recently [again], and i've modified some of the pictures my mom had given me over the years. you know the kind i mean, the ones you buy at linens & things for like $80, of a farm on a hill somewhere you've never been. but the matting is pretty, and the frame, so i make the new pictures, and clean the glass, and now it be some abstract shite. what?

and i made one of those collage picture things that most middle-class white families have in their homes, the ones with the oval matting, the squares, the oblong shapes. i'm sure you know the kind i mean. it happens that we have more pictures of Ezra's family around than mine. [so this struck my mom as odd why? she had all of the photos from forever. the only pictures i have are the crappy ones when we were allowed to bring a disposable camera to school like the last day of the school year. the pictures of my family are either in my sister's posession, or my dad's, like i'll ever see them now!] so the collage thing is really cool, pictures from burning man, Ezra's grandparents, a family photo from when he was young, some of us when we first met. just a sappy memorial i suppose.

i was on the phone with Heather last night, and we touched on the subject of what we were and weren't allowed to do as kids. i remember baking, only when my mother wasn't home. i remember she didn't want me making a huge mess in the kitchen. which taught me to clean as i go. i mean even one fluff of flour would make me feel like i was going to be beheaded. i wasn't even really allowed to vacuum, because i wouldn't do it "right". there would be lines in the carpet when i was done. or little triangles. we were supposed to vacuum the lines away, apparently. these days i chase Olivia around the floor with it, so often times there will be weird vacuum spirals on the carpet. i mean, does it really matter?

it's strange, the things that we keep with us as we grow into "functioning" adults. i was remembering back to right before i moved out of my mom's house. that was such a strange time in my life. i'd broken up with a fellow i'd been dating for just shy of six [yes, 6!] years, and i was spending a lot of time with a new friend in San Francisco, so it just seemed logical to move there.

my mom was starting to date a new man, and she'd found sobriety. it felt right to leave. "they" advise not to make any huge life changes in the first year of sobriety, but i don't know, i guess i didn't think it was that drastic. i guess it didn't dawn on me that she'd then be an "empty nest"er.

the chaos that followed my move is probably best left for another time. just know that i wouldn't have changed a thing.

something slightly missing

so, the feeling is improved, but still, something is lacking. i can't quite put my finger on it, otherwise i'd improve my situation, and upgrade to.. sufficient. possibly not "happy", but content. i think there is a stubborn part that wants to remain steadily unhappy as a defense mechanism to protect myself from the city abroad. outdoors, the only thing i see is really irritating, empty, void, fucking fairfield. it's strange to me that anyone would MISS this place.

watched a bit of the wedding singer the other night. reminded me of the line that his bitch ex-fiance says about "i want to get out of ridgefield!" and he's like "why would anyone want to leave ridgefield?!"

i'll tell you why i want to leave ridgefield! it fucking blows is why. there's no change here. it's exactly the same as it was in the shitty 90's, the same stores [ok, there are some new ones, but it's no improvement], the same attractions [or lack thereof], the same small-minded ignorant assholes, if not more of them.

sure the famed bay area isn't perfect. the ghettos are ghetto-er, the rich are richer, and the extremes are extreme-er, but give me a break! at least there's something to do. when you ride your bike, assholes don't scream at you out of their humongous jacked-up pick-up truck, because.. well, why do they do that anyway?

you can't be happy in your house when your house isn't in a neighborhood you WANT to be in. if you walk outside, and you want to strategically projectile vomit on every person in your neighborhood [aside from the bad-ass-ness of that act, it's quite a vile thought, and shouldn't be saved for people you like!], you probably shouldn't live there. you should live in a community, where you feel welcome. not like you want to run all the little shit head kids over in one of those gigantic pick-up trucks.

living in san francisco was amazing. i lived in a neighborhood that i loved, walking distance to cute stores, yummy food, and i happened to live with my best friend. moving back to fairfield, i think, is my only "regret". i think it was a mistake.

i was chatting on the phone earlier today with an acquaintence of mine, who just moved to the same area my mom just moved from. it is a nice area, close to downtown, the library, the community center, one of the only artist studios, farmer's market. and here i sit, everything being about an hours walk from our house. everything is so far from everything else.

i know it's the same complaints, but i mean really! i don't know if this place has any redeeming qualities. other than to drink and drink and drink and smoke...

most of the "fun" things i can think to do here are just to kill time.

some times are less productive than others.

the sense of [uselessness] is creeping in again. possibly in conjunction with other events of life. an unprompted pointlessness. no real deadlines, nothing to answer to [other than the socially obvious], no real

i dunno.

just rather empty at the moment.

perhaps if i DO something i'll feel better.

it's strange

sometimes things seem so easy. effortless. like life is just a river to float through. then you get to the rapids. the teething. the screaming baby. the throwing-of-food-at-a-restaurant. and you know what? it's not that bad either. tiring, sure. but it's really quite easy to deal with, without hitting the kid. and the laughter!! i don't even know where to start. she's amazing. the noises she makes, and the words and "words" she says. she has little conversations with herself, and walks around the house exploring the same things she's explored several times over. "it must be nice for life to be so simple." she's almost a year and a half. i'm almost 26. does life really need to be complicated? my closest friends have complicated lives, dealing with mental illness. me? i am a stay at home mom, with a lazy creative side. that's not so complicated. but we make it that way. or at least, i do. i look into the deeper meaning too much sometimes. over-analyze until it's at a microscopic level. it's just like when i compare myself to others. why do that to myself? i don't know what's going on in some other's head, i barely know the underlying psychology of my own head. i assume much of the time. i assumed that she knew she was still in love with him. i thought everyone knew, because it was so obvious to me. at times i need to be more blunt. i assume that she knows she's beautiful. you've seen those women on the television, or in magazine ads, so blindingly beautiful. you know how their life was, handed everything, complimented every day, having to beat back the courters. but i see her, beautiful, and complicated, awkward and graceful. and she truly doesn't know that she's beautiful. most don't. there's the beauty-in-all-of-us kind, but this is more. one person said she wasn't pretty, and that's what sticks. that's what sticks with us all. i've been thinking about that lately. i was compared to a woman that i find completely unattractive several years ago, and that's what i see when i look in the mirror. the similarities to her. so what? i did the same thing when everyone said i was going to be "built" like my dad. ie: fat. why couldn't i interpret it as i was going to be tall, or that i'd have powerful legs, or i'd burn in the sun easily? we jump to a conclusion, and stick with it, even if so-and-so says "nonononono, that's not what i meant at all!"... what are you good at? what do you have fun doing? are you beautiful too?

lessons in life can be surprising

funny how things can become so blatantly obvious, and it's really something you knew all along. it just wasn't relevant at the time, so you store it in the back of your brain to resurface later. the mind works in amazing ways. it's been said many times before, but the magnitude of that statement is really dawning on me.

we have life-changing epiphanies all the time. we realize something about our past, then file it back in the unorganized system that is our brain, then have the same epiphany a year later, just to repeat the cycle over and over again. what can truly save us from this repetition? i guess for me, i will try to write it down. and to read what i've written. it does no good to forget history, whether of someone else, or ourselves.

recently it's been a cyclical thing for me, and the stupid slogans and sayings have held new meanings for me. "beauty is in the eye of the beholder", ok, so simple, but honestly, it's quite true. for every aspect of attraction, not just physical. music, art, a nice pair of legs, or someone's eyes. what holds true for me, might not to you. it's all our personal interpretation of those certain waves, or particles, or what-have-yous.

another thing that's become unfortunately-cyclical for me is creativity. i get inspired, whether by a person, place or other noun, and become a well of creativity and function, and then i come-down from said high, and bum out for like a week. a couple months ago i went through my closet to see what shirts i hadn't worn in a while, and i tried to figure out why, so i set them aside to make stencils for them. i figured it would make me wear them with more visual interest, and they're still separated, not stenciled, and collecting dust.

a string of constant disappointments

well, i suppose that's what life has seemed like recently. though not as negative as that once could have meant. life, recently, has been rather cyclical. that in itself is disappointing. the back-and-forth of.. well, everything really. i'm not sure if it's just me, or if things really get better, and then go right back to the irritating.

i've been trying to make this house something that it isn't for quite some time. since we moved back here, i've tried to turn this place into my family home. i was raised here. my parents divorced here. resentment, loathing, venting, bitching... all that was negative about my mom was here. a friend in high school warned me that my mom was snooping in my room, and reading my journals. all of this happened while we both lived here.

my mom found sobriety here. she learned to be a better person. there's a disconnect between these events for me, and it doesn't make this house... better.

i can look around at all of the things that STILL [fucking] need to get done, and wonder how she let things get so bad. she was such a clean-freak [forever!] that just basic maintenance would have sufficed. i remember patching a lot of little holes in the wall, like when a hung picture is taken down. the wall was polka-dotted with holes downstairs. i asked her why she'd never done it, and she replied something along the lines of "i never knew what to use"... i found the plaster powder in the garage. it was there, if she'd taken the time to look.

there's a purging that really does need to happen here for me. i think once the landscaper comes in and fixes this shit up it'll really feel like a different place. i already talked to my dad about painting the interior, and he said it would be ok, and we picked a color. there's promise ahead. i'm rather looking forward to this paint job. i think it'll at least cover the things that i see as crappy.

i guess i internalize a lot of my surroundings. i feel like i am my yard, or lack thereof. i guess it could be an easy metaphor for people to see. but i really would like something that i can care about in this god-awful city.

alone time spent painting.

last night i was flipping through the channels on television over and over before finally giving up and doing what i should have been doing the whole time. i did some chores around the homestead, and went upstairs with my audio-track-playing-device and my headphones, and rocked some ass, while continuing to paint my Moroccan-inspired cabinet. and of course, there was some exploration of my psyche, as always.

my sister had her son "dedicated" to... their Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ... which is to say, he wasn't christened, or baptised, but his life was promised to the church...

and my mom is trying to teach oli to say "dear jesus"...

which we don't agree with. and until recently, we have been able to tactfully and tastefully avoid without insulting their beliefs. and being part of this family has steadily driven me a tad insane. to actually come out and tell my mom that we don't believe in organised religion is to say that i am "exactly" like my dad [alcoholic heathen], which is not the case. i told my sister that the dedication video was online, and asked if she got the link. my mom then asks me if we were having oli dedicated. my automatic response [with a small chuckle no less] "no." how condescending. yay!

so i paint the cabinet, and reflect, as always when i am alone, and i realize that when i am more like my mom, i am unhappy. when i notice similarities, it drives me crazy. which is probably a little bit of that rebellion that i didn't get out of my system when i was younger. but also, it's the rational side of me seeing just how strange my mom really is, and wanting to avoid it. because i do see things in me that are just like her. and she's not a bad person, just not who i want to become.

i thought about some of the guys i'd been with, and how i was never... "good enough" as i used to think. but i learned a lot about myself since then, and remembered that they weren't "good enough" for me really. that there was in intense connection between us, but they weren't ready for that, and it wasn't my fault. because that's what the irrational tells you when there's a break-up. that you're no good.

and i thought about the relationship i'm in, and how respected, and loved, and cared for, i am. and i give that all back. and sure we fart around eachother, but we share everything. we exercise together, and talk, and walk, and shower, we are so... right for eachother.

and a tool song came on, and i thought of burning man, and then how much shit maynard talks about it. but really, in it's basic of all purposes, what is burning man? a huge party, in the desert, with loud constant music, art, people, drugs, alcohol, whatever. it's an escape from reality and responsibilities. that's what it is. and what is it to be a hugely rich musician? to live however you want. there's not need for an escape. so why can't we all live like that? why can't we all live in a way that makes us happy, that we don't need to escape from? what is it about life that makes you unhappy, that you can get rid of?

inevitability

i suppose it's inevitable to change. i mean, really, we change every day to some degree. it's always interesting, if not devastating, to see how people you were once close to change so drastically. or, on the other hand, not at all. many people grow into something more responsible, adult, responsive, than their high-school past self. too many people grow into something mediocre, and "middle-class" average. and others still, don't change one bit.

whether it's who you're attracted to, how you react to situations, or what have you. change is one of those things that helps us to survive in the always-changing world. maybe it's "stability" in not changing. or maybe it's stubbornness, or maybe it's just... pathetic. which is sad in itself.

i was just on the phone with heather earlier, and we were discussing what it is to be a parent. that was a huge adjustment in my life. as it's supposed to be. but, i am also still myself [or, at least i try to remain me], which is to say, once i was "mother", that didn't become my only role. i think too many people with unhealthy parental role-models assume that you have to lose who you are to become a parent. that's just not true at all. that's sad. everyone copes with becoming a parent differently. the last couple of days have been super hard, since Oli has been throwing tantrums a lot. it's something new for her to try out. and we need to be strong, and not throw fuel on the fire.

part of being a parent is being aware.
of your actions, reactions, responses, body-language, interactions with others, and many other things. if, say, Oli was to break her arm. to react in a panic would only make her freak out more. which wouldn't be comforting. and would train her to over-react to everything later in life. the other day i was using the scalpel, and forgot i placed it on the floor when i got her up from her nap. she found it, and cut a little slice in her fore-finger. so i helped her clean it, and stop the bleeding, while comforting her, and not screaming, or crying. she handled it quite well. needless to say, the scalpel is put away now. but i could have blown everything out of proportion, and made everything worse.

it's being in control of yourself, and not letting impatience overtake you. not like i try to be in control though. recently i realized that i try to control... EVERYTHING. and one of those external controls[time] has been kicking my ass lately. i attempt to not pay too close attention to the time anymore, though that's unrealistic in some situations.

could it be? a regret?

perhaps.

i discovered a letter from my dad to my mom, i am assuming written near the collapse of their marriage. it was filled with anger, and brutal honesty. a so much adoration.
how can that be?! even as he was expressing his [well deserved] anger, he allowed her to continue to use him as her door mat. it was heartbreaking to see how much he loved and hated her.

i was cleaning my garage, and i had cleaned out all of the expired food, and junk from the shelves. i sorted through all the old baby clothes, toys, donatables, and keepables. and i came across a large plastic bin, which had pictures, letters, graduation announcements, and all that crap. and i see this letter, and i read it. the entire 4 pages of pain, lack of sex, and mind games. i wonder if my sisters' dislike of my mom was fueled by our dad. when my mom kicked her out, she moved in with him [well, my mom delivered her things to my dad's doorstep the day of his wedding], and claims that he was more a "friend" than a "dad". i can see how that would work. he's never really been... an authority figure really.

he's always been on this search for happiness and acceptance, something many of us are familiar with. he thought he found that with my mom. but she was just as broken as he was, if not more. he thought he found that with his new wife, but she just really ended up being an enabler. she's just as co-dependent as the rest of us. if not worse. and in complete denial.

it's hard to explain to people [especially when they are co-de too] what it is to be co-dependent. and why it's such a damaging thing. i don't remember talking to my dad about my classes. or his wife. i don't think i'd be able to properly describe it. i guess it's like being an addict.

[some outstanding title]

something translucent flits through my mind
as a gossamer strand
not quite on the borders of sight.
it's bound to be amazing
as soon as i can reach it

there's a subtle pain in remembering
tears at the skin a little
it's hard to look back sometimes
but necessary to go forward

blah blah blah
i'm no poet. these are just random thoughts tied together on a page. i am trying to do things for myself sometimes. this one's for me. it'll be one of those blogs i read 3 years from now and not know what the fuck it's ambiguity points to.

am i an artist? i don't know. i was given the title of "writer" a little while ago, but i can't identify with that. i'm not an author, poet, journalist. i'm not sure what that makes me. in the land-o-th'-blog, it's entirely too difficult to classify myself as a writer. though i didn't go to school for it, or anything really, what does that leave me with? what DO i label myself as?

i guess i'm a thinker. no philosopher here. i just think, and try to connect my past- present- future- selves. i hope we get along. as of right now, my past self was an idiot, i'm not sure how much i like her. don't think i'd be friends with her if i had the opportunity. but i have better insight than anyone else. i guess i'd call myself an actor. my past was mostly bit-part acting.

something slipping.

something is definitely slipping through my grasp. there was a friend that i'd turn to, no matter what. those horrible lonely times when i was going through a break-up, or when i just needed to talk. our lives obviously went in different directions, though i always thought we'd be close. like a "no-matter-what" friend. not just a best-friend. bff's... i mean, really?! come on.

and here i sit, poking through pictures, the wife would probably be pissed. it seems i am a topic of "crap-talking" when i am not around. [source upon request] and it makes me sad to think that i am disliked for something i truly have no control over. i never thought my life was something to be jealous of. i mean, i fit in my own puzzle. really that's all one can do. my husband was mine when i first laid eyes on him, our daughter: the closest thing to perfection, i don't work, live glamorously, but i love fiercely. at the moment, that's what i do best.

and the perception: that he is still in love with me. that i am better than her. the truth, if she could get over her hang-ups and be happy, and realize he's so completely in love with her, even if i dropped my pants in front of him with no one around, he wouldn't do it. [i'm 98% sure about that statement] but i did get to see the... sorrow in both their eyes. makes me sad.

it's the ending of an era. which would be my one true regret. i wish we had remained closer. i know it was my own defense mechanism that kept us apart when it did. all i can do is hope he reads this and knows it's for him. -passive aggressive!- there's no other way i can think.

social fucking stigma.

something makes me wonder if i'm seen as a negative influence. i'm not even entirely sure that would bother me. i know what goes on in my head, and the motivation behind my choices. sometimes i make immature choices.
sometimes i have an emotional response, which i know is incorrect.

i think this all goes back to my idea to obliterate "preconceived notions". i am trying quite hard to do this. it's hard. like my friend Heather, whose parents did not teach her much (but did frighten her of a lot of things), i must re-learn quite a bit. i actually had a conversation with my mother about "social stigmas" and what they mean, and what their disappearance would mean. she proceeded to become very uptight, and negative toward me.

what are these notions born from? is it really your past experience? or is it something you've been blindly convinced of? "think for yourself, question authority"... it's a pretty basic statement, and one that i've pondered about quite a few times, but never really grasping the gravity of it's entirety. ok, so i like to believe that i think for myself. at least, i am capable of retrieving data that is stored in my brain, and i can tap into memories of my own (not to even get into the ever changing status of our memories!), but this whole "question authority" part is what just blew my mind last night. i used to think of it in MUCH more superficial ways. you know that whole "anarchist" point of view. the cheesey symbols, and refusing a government (totally dumbed down i know), but to truly QUESTION AUTHORITY:

what does this mean to you? who are my authorities? a very brief search for the word "authority" brings up law, government, experts, parents, "an accepted source" [whatever the fuck that means], a persuasive force.
naturally our parents should be an authority in our lives. people we can trust to make informed decisions in tune with their moral compass. but how many people are so individualized to realize that is what they are doing? so many people just go along with the masses because it's easier to not think for yourself.

let's look at something rather simple. there are people in your life that you probably will not like. through years of training, i am an expert[authority] at being passive-aggressive. so, when i don't care to be around a person, rather than make them feel bad, i avoid them. that's probably also a co-dependent trait. what is it about me that makes me unable, completely incapable, to be that brand of mean to someone? is it even really mean? i'm not deciding that this person is a bad person, or evil-incarnate, i am just happier when they are not around, which makes me not want to be around them. big frickin deal.

i'm guessing that my whole life i've always wanted everyone to like me, so it seems crazy to tell someone that i don't like them. and i mean genuinely not like me. not just because your husband was in love with me, and you're jealous now, because i'm still prettier than you. *smack!* oh, yeah i noticed that.

i DO dislike people. genuinely good people. they mean no harm, yet i still just fucking dislike them. and i just can't bring myself to tell them. i suppose i am so self-centered that i think they'll be bothered by it enough for it to be a big deal. woo. i love having that kind of power over people [whether or not it's only in my mind we'll probably never know]. i have so many people fooled. and all i do really, is compare my life with theirs. oh, i do try to make my home as nice as i can as often as i can, but boy! lemme tell you, if i know someone will be over, i'm going to clean even more, and give the illusion that i can do it all! as a stay at home mom. i guess i should thank my mom for that. i probably already have.

so then, these social stigmas. i. smoke. pot. i also bake cookies, and invite friends over. i. do. drink. whatever.
i am a responsible parent too, i never do these things with my child aware. i never do these things if it will endanger her. i am also a hostess by nature. if i smoke pot, and you're at my house [and i have enough] i will offer for you to smoke. it has nothing to do with the fact that i want someone high with me. it's just simply offering what i have if someone sees me indulging. the same would go for iced tea, coffee, cake, ice cream[only one kind though]. or fricking scrapbooking if that's what i'm doing. i think there's this notion that i'm a "fucking stoner", or a "pusher". i happen to be able to function well, if not better, in society than most people i know. even with all this shit in my head. yes this has gotten a little defensive, even aggressive. i probably stock up on all my aggression to unleash it in written form. it makes it a little more permanent.

tangent: i was sorting through my old blogs on yourspace, and it was quite interesting to see when everything started changing. in regards to... well, everything.

pickles.

walk-by shootings are good for the soul...

last night there was a shooting on my street. i believe it was about 4 houses south of ours, there was a walk-by shooting, at about 9p.m. NINE FREAKING PEE EMM. Seriously? isn't it amazing that it happened before MOST PEOPLE ARE EVEN IN BED?! Don't thugs have a ridiculously early bed time? perhaps if they napped a little during the day, they wouldn't be so grumpy. it was curious to see so many people COME OUT of their houses just shortly after.

the rumors: two guys on foot (at first they were black, then someone said mexican)
walked up to the house
the facts: at least 9, maybe up to 15 gun shots, about 5 to start, then a second set of blasts.
as of today, ezra informed me they were .45 bullets, he found about 4 on the opposite side of the street.

and the street light happens to be burned out near their house.
and i know one of the sons has been in and out of "juvie" for the last several years.

and what does this become?
a selfish thing for me. y'know, if i had been planning to walk by someone's house, to shoot it, and then leave, i would have second thoughts. i'm half a block away, and i am still mildly FREAKED THE FUCK OUT, and i'm not even on a first name basis with the "victims". i'm also a skeptic: i'm pretty sure they did something very shitting retarded, and this is the "payback". so, i'm already kinda nervous about living here. paranoid i suppose. rumors say that the street behind my house alternates normal families, and drug dealing families. yay. lifestyles of the ghetto-faboo. you can mark my words with this; if i ever make enough money where i have to make a choice between driving the newest purtiest jag-u-ar, or living in a decent-yet-expensive neighborhood, you better believe i'm moving a.s.a.p. yet my neighbors, drive cadillacs, and fricking lexi, and they live HERE... hmm.

yes i'm freaked out. yes i've heard other gunshots in the near vicinity in the last year, at least on 4 other occasions. i already don't go out at night. i avoid riding my bike at night, because i have this bizarre phobia of my fucking neighbors.

a couple of months ago a young girl rang our doorbell because she mixed it up with the house that got shot. i'm glad the shooters didn't make that same mistake. i'm pretty sure there's no real shooter's-code-of-ethics that says they have to triple check to make sure they're at the right house. or maybe they did. i've been seeing a few more strangers the last couple of weeks wandering down a dead-end street? isn't that an odd way to realize you went the wrong way? "oh hey, we need to keep going, it's around this... dead end"...

and i am still a "what-if"er at heart. i'm trying to break myself of that habit. it's that curse passed down generations on my mom's side. i mean, i was just trying to beat heather over the head with the idea that what-if's don't matter. they weren't phrased quite as a what-if, but i know how to read between those lines. whatiftherewasastraybullet?! whatiftheygotthewronghouseandhitus?! the list can go on, but there really is an increased paranoia living here now. i've always hated this 'hood, and now it's more justified than ever. and i can't WAIT to move.

something unexpected!

it's a nice realization that i had, when the story is good enough, it's like you gain new friends. i know they're not real people, [horribly ghey here] but these characters were written so well that i actually feel a little sad. i used to just become increasingly impatient while waiting for a new book, but last night i realized that i really do miss these characters.

i don't even really like the main character. maybe she reminds me too much of my high-school-self, but i just really think she's irritating. and i wish ezra would read these books. he'd know better about the way i feel about him. how corny. i really do see him in a new light all of a sudden though, because this author really knows how to paint her shit.

and i didn't start reading this thinking "hey, i'll get emotionally invested, and get all obsessive about these characters", but in the end, i guess i got what i wanted. i've never really been so... attracted to reading before.

a couple of weeks ago i felt this enormous emptiness, probably due to the fact that i live in shitsville, and i really don't have too many friends here [except for elphee really!], and i really needed an escape. the fucking television was always on, and all of my free time really didn't go to any good use. and then i fell in to this literary trap.

yay!

expectations?

...

everyone has 'em. but why? what are these pre-conceived notions we all have, and where do they come from?

and who are "they", you know, the ones we all talk about.. "they say, [insert random factoid]" and we all know it must be true.

but really, where do expectations originate? experience? or is it a prejudice? i used to hang out with people that did "blah", and now these people do to, therefore they must be the same, and act the same way?

so i was in a relationship with one person, and it went poorly in the end, does that mean that i will set myself up for failure in all relationships, because 1 ended up bad? well, i did set myself up for failure a couple times, and my heart got stomped on a little. in the ultimate... "conclusion" it's turned out better than i could have imagined. i ended up getting married to the best person for me. it's really like we were puzzle pieces made to fit each other. cliché, kitch, think what you will, but really there is no other way i might describe it.

so really, why do we have expectations? to limit the possibility if tangents things can go? we all have limited potential, and daily we choose to not use it. we get stuck in routines, and just go about our daily lives like nothing is wrong. but there's not truth in that. there's no passion. expectations are just a generalization that we're allowing to take over.

so we had a party at our house for ezra's birthday. i invited a buncha people over, and i thought it might be fun to have a friendly... debate/discussion/philosophy binge, and it got taken way out of the realm of friendly. i wanted to challenge my friends to discuss the origin of social norms, and see what they had to say. one "friend a" [shot down early in the evening by "friend b"] wanted to participate, but not step on anyones ["friend b"s] toes. and "friend b" i don't think was really up for the challenge.

which brings me to a bit of a rant: religion.
if you find it, great. if it finds you, better. if you just follow blindly, what does that make you? what does that do for your brain? i mean, you're brought up in an organized religion, and they [here's that word] expect you to agree. so you do. but is it because you truly agree, and you do believe that jesus christ died on the cross for your sins, and he is the son of the virgin mary and god?

what is faith? can you have faith and think for your self? does it work both ways? i guess i'm not really sure. i like to think that i have faith in something [the universe, nature, love, destiny-whatever you like] and i think for myself. i hope i'm not just a parrot.

::squak!!::

[02 May 2008 | Friday]

6:23 PM - hard days though the rewards of being a stay-at-home-mom are tremendous, so are the negative days. everything seems SO EXTREME with a toddler. i guess that's because it is. to her at least. and of course, being somewhat emotionally incompetant these days, i follow her lead. when i attempt to guide her, she just tramples everything. it's amazing to see her switch, too. she will be giggling one minute, and [all kidding aside] she flips around and is screaming. and the lonliness is increasing, as i feel.. set aside from society. i had a girl come to the door today trying to sell something, and i actually enjoyed talking to her. even if it was to say "no, i don't have a checkbook, but good luck"... who the hell wishes a door-to-door salesman good luck?... ooooh, i think it may be time to self-medicate. topic change it's kinda [insert some snide word here] how i used to enjoy writing these "blogs" so long ago. i find it odd how much changes over time. i used to have all the free time one could wish for, living in the great city of San FranMotherFuckingcisco, and now, i'm married, i devote all of olivia's waking time to her, and i feel like i can't even take a break. even after i've put her down for bed. to write a blog is to vent my more recent frustrations... about what? politics? about traveling? about the dishes piling up? i guess i need to get back on my horse and figure out what my destination really is. i'm no poet. i won't be filling my blog with wonderous stories, but maybe i'll have some insight for my future-self.

A history lesson for the masses

what is it that drives us a human beings? what is your personal purpose? mine is to be happy. to reach this goal it needs to be completely deconstructed. what is it to be happy? what outside influences help to bring me closer to this destination, and what comes from within?

why does it seem like so many of my generation suffer from co-dependence? what were our parents' parents like? well, i know my mom's parents decided to act on "children are to be seen and not heard". SO, people pick and choose what they are going to use in their own life. my mom decided to allow my sister and i to have a voice. other decisions made by both of my parents were probably bad ones. but that is not to say that all their decisions were bad. they just didn't realize.

thus the addict is born.
with addiction comes co-dependence. a disease born of addiction is one in itself. i am a fixer. now mind you this is not the only type of co-de. let's look at what it was like in school for a minute. when there is/was a competition in school, "they" no longer felt that only first-, second-, and third-place winners got a trophy. everyone that participated got some sort of recognition. this breeds a group of people that don't realize that they can strive for excellence. we can just get by in life.

which is to say that we also don't learn a lot of things. we don't learn how to accept a compliment. we don't learn that it's OK to be the best at something. it's OK to blend into the crowd.

so what makes you stand out? or better yet, what are you afraid of: i am afraid of public speaking. to stand in front of a class and give a report, afraid to fuck up. afraid to sound unintelligent. deconstruct your fears. are you afraid of commitment? are you afraid to love? are you afraid to dance in public? why would you be? what is the ROOT of this fear?: were you abused [physical/mental/emotional] as a kid? were you neglected? was everything you loved taken away? and did you know that's not your fault?

so i'm afraid to speak, because i'm afraid that i'll be good at it. of course i'm afraid of failure, that's not even really an issue that i'd like to address at the moment. [i'm pretty sure everyone deep down is afraid to fail] but i'm more afraid to succeed. i always have been.

take my "potential" from high school for instance. i got pretty good grades in school. i could have gotten into college, graduated with my bachelors and onto my masters at this point in life. i chose the easy way and entered that "program" in high school that basically allowed kids to slack off. i could have gotten into honors classes if i wanted to, but instead i was busy chasing boys. i was always obsessed with one or another. i was trying to fill a void.

parents divorced, blah blah blah, and i lived my life the way i thought everyone expected a child of divorce to live. i acted the part of a broken-home kid, and a latch-key-kid. my grades ended up suffering, and i used the excuse that my parents were getting divorced. at the time that didn't really affect me. it wasn't until romantic relationships became an issue really.

i think all of my friends were in a similar boat if not at the same time in their lives, then at some point. we were all forced to grow up too soon. because our parents forgot what it was like to be a kid. they forgot that there are things that kids need to do, love, and experience to make them into healthy adults. i was never really given the oportunity to fail, because i always got the "participation" award.

Thanks for trying, we know you gave it your best:
destroys a persons sense of self-worth. to know that it's OK to fight for something. to know that yes: to fail does mean that you're not as good as the kid in 1st place, but you can STRIVE to become that great. and better. that you can set new records.

it's ok to be yourself. who are you? a collection of past events in a shell that looks how you look, and you can look any way you want. you can be that cute hipster girl with the strategically unkempt hair-do, or that brainy-nerd girl, [obviously i am a girl therefore speaking like one, but you know the same applies to the boys]. you can portray yourself as the meek little confused person, or you can act like you have all the self-confidence in the world. and that's how everyone will see you. whether you are faking it or not, it really doesn't matter.

____________
i am not going to edit this entry before posting it. if there are things that are unclear i apologize, and any spelling errors, well, it's the general idea i am more concerned about. for the moment i am the story-teller, and i am unconcerned with the intellectual construction of the sentence.

but i do know what makes me happy. i realized it all yesterday [and promptly forgot some of it]. i cannot say that i am "religious", but am spiritual. my highest power is love. i guess it can be equated with the "Christian" God, in that:

1 Corinthians 13:4-8 (New International Version)

4Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

8Love never fails.... *
1Jo 4:16 — And we have known and believed the love that God hath to us. God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him. **

it is the church that takes metaphores and needs a tangible source for "God". if god is love, then why must we speak in terms of he, she, or it. it just is. it is love. why must it be about religion and conformity, and leaders, and not just that which is love? lust is not the same thing. there is trust with love. and trust makes it easier. i don't want anyone to read this and think i have become some religious nutter, because that's not what this is at all. i am attempting to re-apply my religious education to something that actually makes sense. it is not often that a bible scripture comes to mind, but i did want to share that with you. my reader.

i hope you enjoyed this, and didn't take any ill-meaning to heart. i am a fixer, and i probably got frustrated with each and every one of you [some several times] because in my heart i thought it was my job to fix you, and i couldn't accept the fact that you might just be happy the way you are.

*source: http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1+corinthians+13:4-8
**http://www.blueletterbible.org/tsk_b/1Jo/4/16.html

Leaving yourspace behind

The irrationality of it all is that I actually felt NERVOUS to say goodbye to myspace. What the fuck? I mean really, what is there to be nervous about? I think that just proves that I feel a need for public acceptance more than anything. If I remove myself from the "public", and allow myself to empty my brain for no one other than myself, then I remove the stress element. In fact, I am pretty much completely reinventing myself. It's very... aggravating, and freeing.

I know I'm asking a lot of my friends to "follow" me here, but I guess this is a true sorting in a way. This will allow me to simplify EVERYTHING. There's so much drama attached to myspace. So much negativity. So much time wasted sitting there wondering if "he" read that blog, or if "she" understood that bulletin post. So I am simplifying everything from my bedroom, to my wardrobe, to my blog.

Have fun.

a new start

I've been learning a lot about myself recently, and it's not always when I want to. I'm one of those people that thinks there's a time and place for everything, and when it happens differently, it really throws me off. Life is full of those crappy slogans though: "hope for the best, but expect the worst" "things could always be worse", and the list goes on.
How many of us march to the beat of our own drum? I know I try to. It's not always easy, having been raised in a co-dependent world. I know this is where most of my rants end up these days, but that's because I see it as such an epidemic, and it doesn't seem like anyone notices. And why should they?
My grandparents: children should be seen and not heard (also, didn't outwardly show love or affection)
My parents: wanted to show us love and affection, and encouraged us to "be our own person".
Me: babied TOO long, and not really allowed to grow up, and yet grew up way too fast.
My sister: grew up quite fast, and didn't really share her struggles with me.

So, I am trying to become an expert at the one thing most people need: myself. I don't mean that everyone needs me, but you all need to learn more about yourself too!

My best friends see doctors to help them. THAT'S SO AWESOME! That takes to much strength and courage, to step aside, and say "I don't know myself as well as I thought I did." Holy cow! Think about that for a second. Someone actually doesn't know much about who they are. Who's the one person you're with 100% of every waking day of life? Not your spouse, not your kid, YOU. And to admit, just ADMIT, I don't know myself, I need a professionals help? That's frickin amazing.
Now one of said friends, asked me how I stop thinking about embarrassing things, and negative things throughout my whole life. This question struck me as odd. On the opposite of that, I have often wondered how Ezra falls asleep so fast. His reply: "I shut my brain off"... WHAT?! How the hell does one shut their brain off?! I mean, are you serious? Is that just a "guy" thing? Or am I just so full of too many thoughts to turn off?
In response to my friend, however, I wasn't sure how to answer. I adopted a slogan for myself while I was living in San Francisco that I absolutely love though: Will it matter in 2 weeks, or a year from now? And I mean really matter. We were at the laundromat, and friend took someone else's dry laundry from the dryer, set it on a clean surface, and put her own items in the dryer. Then she over-thought what she did and hoped the other woman wouldn't get angry with her... I guess I justify things a lot. Because, though that incident didn't "matter", it does still stick out in my mind, because I wish it wouldn't bother her. But I know it will.
I guess what I am trying to get at is, if it doesn't bother the "victim" in that victimless crime, then why should it bother the offender? I'm sure her clothes didn't get damaged in any way, my friend just needed a dryer, and that one had been done for about a half hour. Big whoop.

It's not a strength issue. She's one of the strongest people I know. Like I said about the doctor, she's willing to get HELP. A-mazing.

Is it about being a people-pleaser? Probably, which is an ugly side-effect of co-dependence. I'm not an expert on other people. I do like to think I have an insight into what people feel, or even the motives behind what they say. She "beats up on herself" a lot, but I see deeper inside, I see that it just happens to be a negative observation. She has positive observations too, they are just kept inside because she doesn't want to sound arrogant. I know that's why, because that's why I don't admit that I think I'm amazing. Well, there you go, I guess I do actually think I'm amazing. But I don't think you'll ever get me to say that in person.

Slogans... come up with your own and you'll be a lot better for it. Don't live my philosophy, it may matter 2 weeks or 10 years down the road for you. We're not the same person. But by all means, PLEASE, don't live anyone else's philosophy/slogan either. Discover something beautiful about yourself, and capitalize on that. Don't remain a product of the "participation award" generation. That's a whole other blog.