Wonders Never Cease

Pinterest, Sewing and Other Fun Things

2011-08-27T13:04:00.000-04:00

When I was a kid, I loved sewing by hand, but eventually I stopped. When I was older, we got a sewing machine and I loved that too, before my mom decided it needed to live in the basement, out of the way. A few weeks ago, maybe a month, I decided I wanted to get back into sewing.

A couple weeks later, my best friend sent me a link to a "pin" on Pinterest. She, along with the rest of my friends, loves coming up with ideas for my wedding. It's the little girl in us all coming out again. Every little girl plans her wedding. The first girl to get engaged in any group of friends gets a lot of help planning her wedding. So she sent me a link to some wedding invitations. I explored Pinterest and fell in love. I started by looking at wedding ideas, photos and DIY tutorials for weddings and parties. Then I realized that people were posting home ideas. Everyone knows that I'm really big into things like that. I'm a furniture junkie with a love of buildings, and a love of colors. A few days after I started pinning like a mad fiend, I discovered a lot of people were posting..... wait for it...... SEWING THINGS! Patterns, tips, ideas, product reviews on sewing machines. places to buy cheap fabric.

I really need a sewing machine, but in the mean time, Jeffrey's grandma is letting me use hers whenever I want. I've already got a few simple projects I want to try, and some complex ones that I want to try but that need to wait until my skill level increases.

And I've got a new favorite website that provides me with a never-ending supply of ideas for sewing projects, and home ideas. And wedding ideas. And a lot of other things (recipies! <3 ). I'm happy.

CAR CAR C-A-R

2011-08-25T00:14:00.000-04:00

I grew up in a neighborhood with a bunch of other kids. When we were playing in the road and a car came my friend Morgan, my age, would shout-sing "Car, Car! C-A-R!" She tried it once with truck and it didn't have the same sing-songiness. I can't type the word "car" without thinking of that little song. Somehow, it became a part of me.

This past week I took (and passed!) my driving test, bought a car, and figured out insurance. Jeffrey helped me inspect the cars (I dont know what to look for, so far as potential problems go) but other than that, I did it all on my own. I'm really proud of myself. Yes of course, because I got my license, because I saved up and bought my first car and paid in full. Yes, because I figured out all the insurance stuff on my own.

But also because of the little things that most people wouldn't think to ask me about, or wouldn't think are big deals. I'm proud of myself because for the first time ever, I feel like I'm totally in control of my anxiety disorder. Things that are triggers for my horrible attacks? Talking to strangers, being in the spotlight, talking on the phone. All three things which I have done in the past week. Not only was I able to handle all of these things without having an attack, but I was able to handle all of them RIGHT ON TOP OF EACH OTHER.

I'm feeling quite proud of myself. Like I've finally done something right. Also, this means school is possible. I always feared, in the back of my mind, that I wouldn't be able to get to my classes because I wouldn't get a car/my license, and Jeffrey wouldn't be able to drive me. Those fears are now at ease, and I have one week before classes start. I think things will settle down a bit then.

Pure Bliss (FloydFest X)

2011-08-01T14:06:00.000-04:00

This weekend was amazing. I heard music and danced in the dark until long after midnight. I played in the rain. I sweated like a pig in weather hotter than it should have been. I left my purse, wallet and all, completely unsupervised under a canopy in a crowd of 20,000 people, and didn't worry for a moment. My cell phone's only function for four days was a clock, and we only used the computer for a few moments each morning, to check the weather. Complete strangers offered me several types of drugs, and even though I turned them all down, I still felt completely high. It was a freeing experience, unlike anything I'd ever felt. It was blissful. It felt like childhood, only as an adult. No responsibility, no long-term thoughts. I was completely in-the-moment for the whole weekend.

I don't think I could live like that permanently, or in any long-term sort of situation. It's a relief to be back home. But I understand now. I understand why people make stupid mistakes. Because at the time, they aren't thinking about what'll happen next week. I've always "known" that, in my head, but now, I understand it. I've felt what it is to not be aware of future consequences. Until this past weekend, I can't remember a time where I've ever been so completely in the moment. It's a little scary.

When people offered me drugs, I didn't say "no" because I remembered all the addicts that I knew, or because I remembered what they taught me in school. It wasn't because I feared being arrested, or failing a drug test at work. I said no because the music and the dancing and the darkness already made me feel high. I didn't need the drugs to get the feeling, so I just laughed and said "Thanks, but no thanks." It's scary to look back on. I was totally in the moment and consequences and futures didn't exist for me then. If I had been in another mindset, I could have said yes. I could have ruined everything I ever worked for. But then I remind myself that, if I had been in another mindset, consequences would have existed and I would have said "no" anyways.

There isn't any action that I took this weekend that is different from what it would have been, if I had thought things through. I keep reminding myself of that, telling myself "You didn't do anything wrong. Just enjoy the memory of that pure bliss you felt," and yet, I fear and I worry.

If I lived in that mindset constantly, I could turn into my mother.

So Close, but so far away!

2011-07-21T14:19:00.000-04:00

I got a message this morning on facebook from my sister, saying my mom had relapsed and she was scared. It was timestamped 2am. I messaged her back, and have been calling and texting, but I haven't gotten any response from her since then. My other sister seemed normal and unaware when I talked to her this morning, and I didn't have the heart to break the news to her. For a little while I was in denial. Maybe Lauren had misunderstood. A miscommunication. Maybe Lauren had a bad dream, and, half asleep at 2am had thought it to be reality.

I'm feeling really numb. I'm not really surprised, and I'm not heartbroken. I'm surprisingly okay. It frightens me, to know that I have become so numb to this. I would have expected to feel angry, like I always used to be. Hurt, offended. Worried, scared and heartbroken. Really, I just worry what this means for my sisters, how it will effect them, and I worry for my mothers internal organs. But as for me, personally, I'm only minimally effected.

I hate not knowing what's going on, but I haven't the guts to call anyone who might know. I keep calling my sisters, and I'll offer my support to them. They always will have me. But eh. I can't say I didn't expect this to happen at some point. Even the best of people, the most determined fall off the wagon a few times before they reach a safe, stable place. She was doing everything right, but sometimes it just takes time, and I could hear in her voice how impatient she was.

Its one of the reasons I didn't want her to visit me. I couldn't handle that sort of..... seeing her and watching her fall. I can almost bet that if I was home, I would be feeling something unpleasant right now. From Virginia, I worry. In Massachusetts, I'd surely be in a frenzy right now.

I feel unbelievably numb. I don't feel like a whole lot of anything. It's sucked the enjoyment and happy out of my day, but that hasn't been replaced by sad and anger. I feel somewhat empty. All I really feel right now is a desire to hear back from my sisters, to have them tell me that they're okay.

I was going to call my aunt today, just to chat and catch up, but it's been so long since I called her. I dont want it to seem like I only call her when something goes wrong. I had planned on calling her.

End of an Era

2011-07-13T12:12:00.000-04:00

The summer between third and fourth grade I discovered something amazing. I was taken to this brand new world, and when school started back up, I made new friends in that world. That world was Harry Potter, and the friends I made were with characters in the books, but also with people who I met in real life, who I might not ever have talked to otherwise. It was Harry Potter that introduced me to the two people who are the closest things to soul mates that exist. My best friend Chelsea, and my fiance Jeffrey. I've probably told this story a hundred times. I'm such a sap.

I met Chelsea in September when school started. Over the summer she had moved to my town. For my 10th birthday, in November, she gave me a copy of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. How did she know me so well, so soon? My sister spilled a cup of fruit punch on the table, turning the last 30 pages pink on the edges, and I was so angry. She spoiled my most important book. I got over it, and somehow, over the years, I lost that book. I still hate that I lost that book. I treasured it, and then it was gone. At some point, years ago, I managed to steal Chelsea's copy of it, and only recently mailed it back to her.

The first movie came out the day before my 11th birthday, and a trip to the movie theatre and for pizza afterwards was my party that year. Chelsea then spent the night at my house after. The second movie came out around my 12th birthday, and again I had a Harry Potter Movie birthday. Before the third movie came out, Chelsea and I were at her house, and decided to watch the trailer for the movie, which neither of us had seen. She had dial up and it took forever to load. We would watch a few seconds, and then when a few more had loaded, start back at the beginning and watch it again. It took a good hour, maybe more, but it was amazing. Chelsea and I wrote fan-fiction together and separately, and read our stories to each other over the phone. We also posted them online, but we always were reading ahead in each others stories. We went to the midnight releases of the 5th, 6th together at Barnes and Noble. For the 7th book, I managed to talk another friend into rescheduling her sweet sixteen, because I had already made plans with Chelsea to go to the midnight release. When the 7th movie (part one) came out, Chelsea and I were 800 miles apart, but that didn't prevent midnight phone calls, discussing mutual tears. The three of us, Chelsea, Harry and I, have been a unit for most of my life. The 8th movie, or the 7th part 2, comes out as soon as it turns into Friday.

Chelsea will be in Ireland, I will be in the US. We don't have the money for international phone calls, and our midnights are at different times. Everything is all backwards and messed up and I miss my best friend. I'm sad. And yet, I can't be sad. She's going on an amazing trip - I'm supposed to be happy for her. And I am. But I can't help but wish this trip was at any other time. A part of me would rather have her here for this than even have her at my wedding. How stupid is that? She's my best friend. But this is the close, the end of an era, and while I know this really wont change anything between us, it is going to change everything.

I keep telling myself that it isn't the end - there is still Pottermore which hasn't even opened yet. And I try to tell myself that this is te same way that I felt when the final book was released. But when the 7th book was released I was with Chelsea. We started this journey together, and I wanted us to finish it together.

I think back to a time, in 6th grade, when Chelsea and I planned an impossible road trip, when a mutual friend said that we wouldn't be friends by the time we finished 8th grade, nevermind when we were old enough to drive. And I look back - it's been 6 years since we finished 8th grade and she's still my best friend. And we still can't drive.

And now I'm just babbling, but I feel better now. Still sad, still missing Chelsea, still upset that we wont be pottering together tomorrow night and in the wee hours of Friday, but its okay. We'll be okay. And Harry Potter will live on in my heart forever.

Budget

2011-07-02T12:50:00.000-04:00

This morning I decided to re-vamp our budget. I made a nice pretty one back when we were living with Grandma, sometime around Decemeber, but at the time, it was all hypothetical. We weren't paying our own bills for much of anything. And then the program that I used crashed (wtf quattro pro? why are you broken? and why am I the only person on the internet to ever have this problem? I can't find it documented anywhere!) and so that budget rotted away.

But I'm an anxious one, and I've watched debt ruin both of my parents at different points of my life, so I really needed to figure things out. I opened up excel, which I have very limited experience with, and taught myself how to use it. I did add in a couple hypotheticals - car insurance for me - but I used a high estimate that I'd gotten - and after I did all the adding and subtracting we are making about $120 a month. I was very excited, until I came to a horrible realization.

We have three bills that we don't pay. My father pays my cell phone bill, and his parents pay for his car insurance and his health insurance. Once I added numbers for those in, we end up losing money. But actually, we could probably afford to pay our parents to pay our bills. Their bills are cheaper to pay than ours would be. My father pays an extra $10 a month for my cell phone, but if I had my own plan it would be at least $50/month. Same thing with Jeffrey's health and car insurances. We're borderline able to afford it all, through other people.

But for one moment in time, I was so proud of us. Not a lot of young couples in college get to say that they are doing it all on their own and saving money. For a brief moment I thought we were. Now, I'm determined to make it happen. I was already planning on getting a second job, but then I thought "eh, we're doing alright with me only working one." Now, I'm definitely going to (try at least to) get a second job for the rest of the summer.

Right now, even though we have student loans, we have enough money in savings to pay them back, and not totally drain our accounts. The only reason we haven't done it yet is because we may need that money to pay for me to go to school this upcoming year. My uncle still says he'll take care of it, but that didn't happen last semester (thus, the loans being taken out in the first place). Right now, if I don't pay back my loans immediately, I WILL still be able to afford to go back to school. And because of the type of loan they are, I don't acquire any interest on them while I'm in school. I'd still really like to pay them back, before they start acquiring interest, but right now, no rush.

Blessed

2011-06-26T23:47:00.000-04:00

Back in January and February a homeless man used to come into Wendy's every day, and stay for hours reading his bible, or chatting with us and the other customers. He was a great man. Always laughing, making jokes, telling people he would pray for them. He never begged, even though he was quite open about his homelessness. Often, he refused people's offers to buy him something, explaining that if they did, would they please leave contact information so that he could pay them back someday.

One day, he came in, and headed straight for his table, where he sat, reading his bible. After an hour or two, he hadn't bought anything, which was unusual for him, but not unheard of. But that night, he looked sad, downtrodden. He didn't talk to me when I went by cleaning the tables, or when I went on break.

While on my break, I tried to talk to him, but he didn't seem to want to talk. After a while, I asked if he was hungry. His response was "you don't have to buy me anything."

"That wasn't the question." I rolled my eyes for effect. "Are you hungry?"

A little, but don't worry about it.

"I do worry," I explained. "No one should be hungry if they don't have to be." I got up, and went to buy him something.

"Just one doublestack," he said. It was our cheapest sandwich. Ninety nine cents. One-eleven after tax.

Sometime in early march he stopped being around. I often wondered what happened to him. About two weeks ago he reappeared. He didn't say a word to me or any of my co-workers. He didn't chat with any of the customers, and he didn't hang around and read his bible. He just came, ordered, ate, and left. At first I thought it was just someone who looked like him. A couple days later, he did the same

And then two days ago, he again came in, ordered, sat and ate. He didn't pull out his bible. I went on break and sat down, eating my own food. And by that point I had decided it wasn't him after all. That we now had a new regular who just reminded me of that old one. I mostly ignored him, since he didn't seems as social as he used to. I was texting my sister, and thinking about how I hadn't done dishes before work, when he came over and leaned over my table.

"Remember me?" he asked.

What? It was him after all. "Of course," I said. "Where've you been?"

"I got a job, working as a janitor at a church. I work most evenings so I don't come in anymore. I just wanted to give you this." he held his hand out. In it was one dollar, one dime, and one penny. $1.11. One double stack. "Here. And thank you for that burger."

I told him to keep his money, and reminded him of what I said that night in February. No one should go hungry. I explain to him that when I buy someone food, I don't expect to get that money back, but I thanked him, anyways. The fact that he remembered and tried to pay me back meant a lot to me. I couldn't explain it to him then, and I can't now. It's a powerful gesture. I wanted to cry, or laugh or thank him more. But he just told me to have a blessed night, and then he left before I really figured out how to react.

I hope you have a wonderful, blessed life. You've certainly touched mine.

I Spoke Too Soon

2011-06-10T14:45:00.000-04:00

I posted too early this morning. Maybe an hour after I posted that blog, my dad called. We talked about the normal stuff - his upcoming surgery (nothing major, just a revision for something that went wrong on his first knee surgery! No worries!) his job, my job, the weather, a sink I repaired last weekend (I was proud!), and my dad's siblings' various projects. All good stuff. My uncle Mark is building a porch, my aunt Lisa is opening a new gym (gymnastics) Ed's starting up some new company, and the rest of the family is doing all sorts of other things as well. Those were the highlights.

Then he says "So what's going on with your mom?"

Now, to you, that might not seem like much, but to me it meant everything. "What's going on" doesn't mean "how is she? What's see been up to lately, I haven't seen her in a while." No. That's not what he meant at all. If that's what he had meant, that's what he would have said. That's usually what he said.

"What's going on" means that something notable is going on, but he's not clear on the details. I explain to him that last weekend my mom was having heart palpitations (which, incidentally, might be due to a heritable disease. That's good news. I've been having serious and painful heart palpitations for years and no one knew what was wrong with me. Now, I might have the start of an answer. but that's beside the point!) My mom had gone to the hospital, they gave her some medication that was supposed to help her heart, and told her that they weren't sure what the aftereffects would be, and not to drive. I thought my father was talking about why my mom hadn't seen Amanda and Lauren last weekend.

And then he goes "What about the house?" House? What house? What about the house?

My father had been at my moms house the other day (my father's work trailer is still in her yard, and her garage is still my dad's storage unit) and the landlord had shown up. They got to chatting, and the landlord told my father that my mom is being evicted. She's supposed to be out on the 17th. The 17th. THE FREAKING SEVENTEENTH OF THIS MONTH! Today is the 10th (although apparently this conversation happened about 3 days ago, and the landlords had set the eviction ball rolling over a month ago). My mom has 10 days left to vacate the house. She hasn't said a word to me.

Now, my dad wasn't sure the landlord was telling the truth. He said "There's also a good change he just said that so I would get my stuff out of the yard" and then mentioned that he had some bead-board and other loose supplies and tools. Okay. Maybe the landlord was just trying to scare my dad. I can tolerate that. I can't tolerate my mother lying to me. Two weeks ago she was talking about re-decorating the kitchen. Now she might be moving? What?

While we were on the phone, my dad decided to poke around the house. He didnt have his key with him, and my mom wasn't home, so he just looked through the windows. Apparently, her couches are not in the living room. Where they were, I don't know, and she had stuff all over the back porch. However, the bedrooms, all of them, were still set up. Okay. Weird.

I don't know what's going on. Maybe I'll find out later, since I have to call my mom today anyways, and make sure she has a camera to video tape my sister's act in her school talent show. I cried when I found out she was in it and I couldn't be there. I really really have to make sure someone gets it on video for me. I need it.

And I need to know what the deal is with my mom, too.

Dreams, and School, and other thoughts.

2011-06-10T12:05:00.000-04:00

I know, I know, I've posted this before. It stopped, and then the problem came back twice as bad.

My dreams. They're crazy! In the past week I've gone on a road trip, given birth, been attacked by birds, been abandoned, gone back to high school, and a whole host of other things.

I used to love my dreams, loved remembering them when I woke up. This past week, I haven't slept a full night. They aren't just dreams, and then I wake up and remember them. That would be just fine. None of these dreams were horrifying. Some were scary, but none were absolutely terrifying. But each of them has been so vivid that I've woken up. This doesn't seem like a huge problem - I wake up once or twice throughout any night anyways - but when it's a dream that woke me up, rather than a chill because I lost the blanket, or an elbow to the face (thanks Jeffrey <3 ) it's different. I can't just roll over, get comfy and go back to sleep. It just doesn't work. I can get as comfy and cozy as I want, and my mind just keeps on running at 1000 miles an hour.

I don't think it's a sleep thing. I don't think that the problem is "I'm having trouble sleeping." I think the problem is something else. I think the problem is my brain's current state. I haven't been in a good place, mentally, lately. During the day, I've been scattered, tired, overwhelmed, and hating myself. And then I stop being overwhelmed because I get everything done, and when I stop being overwhelmed, I stop hating myself. But clearly being overwhelmed shouldn't make me hate myself the way it does. I need to clear my head. Even when I"m not overwhelmed, I'm not clear. I don't know how it get clear. My brain has too much stuff in it, and I think that is the cause of my lack-of-sleep. I just have too much in my head.

I don't know how to get all this crap out of my head. I just know I want it gone. And the thing about it is, it's not stressful stuff. My parents are both stable. My financial aid for the next semester came in and it's lovely, and I do get to go back to school after all, for at least one more semester. If my parents and uncle can't help me (they have promised to, but I don't know how far I trust their promises) I will be okay for the fall. Fall semester is only going to cost me a little over $6000 out of pocket. Right now, I have that money. It was supposed to be money for me to get my license and a car, but school is more important. My apartment is close enough that I can walk to school if I need to. It'll take me probably about an hour to walk there, but my classes for next semester aren't early in the morning. It's doable, and I still have an ounce of hope that my parents or uncle will help out at least partially.

But that's good new. A week ago I didn't think I'd be going to school at all. My sisters are both doing fine. My health has taken a turn for the better (except for the lack of sleep. that's putting me down a bit) and Jeffrey's doing great. My boss has finished his firing spree and work has been great lately. I've been writing and writing and writing. I don't know why I can't clear my mind. I wish I could.

I wish I could sleep.

My Planner

2011-05-23T11:00:00.000-04:00

I've probably mentioned it before, but I made myself a planner a few months ago. And then yesterday, I spent THREE HOURS sprucing it up. I pasted a green sheet of paper to the ugly brown cardboard of the cover, then sealed it off in plastic so that it wouldn't get stained when I inevitably spill something on it. I manually poked holes in about 60 pages (I didn't want holes as big as a regular hole punch). Since I don't have any fancy binding equipment, I was binding the original version with ribbon - Maroon ribbon that didn't even remotely match the colors I had put on my new covers. So I went to the store and bought black ribbon (I figure back is neutral enough that I can find other uses for it. a 10 yard spool for only 33 cents. I didn't realize ribbon was that cheap!) and then I had to sit a while and think about another way of threading the ribbon so that it wasn't as ugly as my old version. The binding on v1 was pretty ugly, stuck up in weird lumps and got tangled and all sorts of stuff. This is what I ended up with. Isn't it lovely? I'm super proud of it. Which is silly because it's just a simple craft project, but whatever. It's great. YAY!

PS: I promise to stop being a neglectful blogger. The end of semester (which I'm still not ready to talk about) was a bit of a disaster, but I made it out okay, and I think my grades did too. Regardless, It was miserable and I didn't want to talk about it, and.... that's it really.

M is for Mumma

2011-04-19T11:57:00.000-04:00

I've been back in touch with my mother for the past..... little while. I dunno how long. Not very, but weirdly, it feels like a long time. I guess because she's my mother, and I've known her my whole life.

It's awkward talking about her. A part of me can't forgive her. After all that time, and all that stuff that I have forgiven her for, I guess I'm just worn out. I'm not really still angry, so much as afraid to build a relationship with her.

But she's my mom. I want to. I love her. I miss her. Secret Life of the American Teenager (yes, I watch that show. No, you aren't allowed to laugh at me. I watch a lot of TV that I don't usually admit to watching) said something on it's last episode about how abused children still want to love their parents. I relate. I love my mother, and I want a relationship with her. But I'm so scared. And I'm still so hurt. Not angry, but offended. I guess I'm taking it personally.

No one else wants to hear about her, or about how I'm trying to fix things. Everyone else I talk to is either like "she's bad news" or else "so what? it's your mom. of course you talk. it's not worth mentioning that you talked to your mother today."

I guess no one gets it. I expected Jeffrey to, because he and his dad had an issue too at one point. But he doesn't. He doesn't forgive my mother, want to hear about her, want anything to do with her. Fine. But I do. He doesn't understand. I expected Chelsea to understant too, but I think she's too busy. I don't even know if I've tried to talk to her about it. She's go-go-go-go-go maybe even more than I am. I guess I don't want to bother her with my lukewarm ness.

I don't know what I want to do. I'm really digging this phone-relationship that we have. We talk once in a while, and that's that. No pressure because that's all there is: phone calls. and they aren't scheduled. She can't let me down. But as much as I really like the lack-of-pressure of this arrangement, as part of me really wants a mom-hug. And phones just don't allow it.

She comes home this weekend. She's out of rehab right now, and in a sober house, which I guess is some sort of halfway-house for sobriety. Then this weekend, she moves home. I'm excited for her. I'm scared. I miss her. I don't forgive her.

I don't even know what I feel right now. I'm glad she's coming home, but I don't trust her to take care of herself at home, and I'd really rather her take care of herself than try and do something she's not ready for. But maybe she is ready. I can't see her. I don't know. I'm so confused. I definitely want her in my life, but I don't know what role I want her in. I don't think I'll ever be able to respect her as a parent again. But I do love her and want her in my life. I just..... don't know.

L is for Long Time Ago

2011-04-19T11:40:00.000-04:00

Almost two years ago I wrote a letter to my sister that I just couldn't send. I was doing a lot of that at the time. Writing and filing away letters. It was before my blog, before anything, and it was my coping method. It worked to calm me down, I guess, but it didn't really do much more. It didn't help me do anything BUT calm down. This blog has done a lot more for me, getting comments, and also responses privately, that have given me great advice.

I have a lot of those old letters sitting around. Not long after I wrote those, I discovered Accentuate Writers Forum ( <3 ) and through that, Unsent Letters. You'll see the link to it sitting over in my blogroll. I don't know if you've checked it out, but you should. It's a whole collection of exactly what my coping method was. Letters that weren't sent.

I submitted a letter that I had written to Amanda, but I changed the names. I never heard back about my submission, and assumed it was rejected. I know Unsent Letters as a whole, had been put on the back burner for a while, because the woman who runs it had bitten off more than she could chew with it. She also runs the writers forum, and Twin Trinity Media which was putting out a few other books, and a few blogs of her own, and has a family and has numerous health issues, and I think I'm forgetting a few hundred other things she does. How she manages to do even half of that, I don't know. So Unsent Letters got put on the back of the pile, and I knew that, but I thought my story had been read before that.

I just received an email a few days ago from them saying what amounted to "do you still want us to consider this letter, after it's been so long?" and I didn't know what to say. In the past, I think I actually casually mentioned that I didn't want my letter read, if it hadn't been already. I had said that because I couldn't remember what I had written. I knew vaguely what it was about, but I have at least 6 letters to Amanda written in that same approximate time frame, all holding different details. Which was the one that I had sent in? Was it one that someone outside the family, who didn't know any of it would understand? Was it one someone could relate to?

So when I got that email, it was like little gift. Apparently my "please disregard" was forgotten and I had a new shot at reading it. I opened it, scared. And I read it. And I started crying, because even thought I remember writing it (or ones like it), I had forgotten how much I felt at the time.

I told her that I would love to have my letter considered still. It's exactly what it needs to be. If it's not accepted, I'm alright with that. But I'm also really glad I wrote it, that the letter was saved and set aside. It's a very important letter to me, reminding me of where I was two years ago.

I regret changing the names to fake ones. I used "Amy" and "Laura" instead of "Amanda" and "Lauren". The names are close, but they just.... I dunno. I want the letter to have our names on it. I didn't even sign my name. I just signed it "E."

The letter sis more than just remind me of what I felt, but it made me more aware of who and where I am now, and how little has changed, even though it feels like so much has. My worries haven't changed much. My feelings about the situations even less. But then, some things have changed. I'm not so spineless and I'm a lot more independant. I think I've grown up a lot since I wrote that letter (which is funny, because at the time, I felt like I was more-or-less done growing up. I didn't realize I was so naive until I read that letter. And I'm sure two years from now I'll have this realization again, and yet I still feel so much LESS naive than some of the people I see walking around. It's strange to me, how I have always felt so much more aware of things than other people, and yet never aware enough.)

Write. Every day. and save it. Because someday, a few years from now, it'll really make a point to you. And I think this will happen to me for the rest of my life.

K is for Krayzee

2011-04-16T15:05:00.000-04:00

What? You think I spelled it wrong? Nope. That's exactly how it's spelled, or at least, I find that people are so nuts that even spelling "crazy" seems too normal for them.

I got to work two minutes late at 4:02. I get my drawer counted and set up, and I'm taking my first order. We're about halfway through when a blond woman walks past the line, and SHOVES my customer aside. She throws an open burger at me, but I try to catch it, miss, and it lands on the counter. "I just came through drive-thru and every fucking time I come in here its like this. Why the hell can't you get my order right, bitch?" she doesn't stop talking but I inturrupt her. "I'm sorry, what's wrong with it, and I'll make you a new one."
"Onions! You didn't put enough damn onions on it. I asked for extra onions, and you're ripping me off. I paid for extra onions."

Now, first of all, extra onions are free, so you didn't pay for extras. Second of all, small sandwiches come with two rings of onion. I'm looking at at least 6. I didn't say that though. Instead I said "alright, extra onions. What sort of sandwich was it?"
"A fucking cheeseburger. I'll have you shut down if you don't make me a new one right now."
"A single or a double cheeseburger?"
"Just a cheeseburger! You know what? I want my money back."
"Alright let me get my manager."
"What are you calling me a liar? I work in law enforcement. I'm a cop. I can get you shut down like THAT!"
"I can't open my drawer without my managers key. If you want your money back, I need to get him."
"Well then tell one of these other idiots to make me my fucking sandwich."

I get my manager, and wait while this is sorted out. Once she finally leaves (oddly enough, without her money OR her sandwich.) I finish taking the order I had stated already. "Sorry about that." I said. and he said "What are you sorry for? You weren't the one who shoved me. Crazy people."

The whole night went on like that. She was not the only person to threaten to shut us down. I also had one customer threaten to have me fired because it took too long (about a minute) to get her drinks done (4 sprites and a shake) and I had one threaten to hit me because I wouldn't give her free food/pay for it myself.

The whole night was ridiculous, or rather Krayzee.

Note: there were some good things. One of my regular customers (who I had previously just thought was overweight because I couldn't really see her figure in her clothes. Turns out she was pregnant) came in with her new baby girl. So tiny and beautiful

J is for Jumping Ahead

2011-04-15T13:58:00.001-04:00

My engagement to Jeffrey is a long one. We knew that from the start. Our tentative-wedding-date keeps getting pushed back further and further. We simply cannot afford a wedding right now.

But lately, with my stress levels off the charts, I've been really needing to focus on the happiest things in my life. One of the thing in my life that is absolutely fantastic is my relationship with Jeffrey. Since we're both busy, we aren't spending as much time together as we want to. Since I can't focus on actually BEING with him, I've, instead, been focusing on our wedding.

Some of it I find boring (seriously, who gets chair-covers?) some of it I can't even justify vaguely fantasizing about without talking to him (location, food, music?) but some of it, I can totally justify looking at.

Stop. Pause, Step back. I've been planning my wedding since I was 12, or maybe earlier. Why is it that now that I'm engaged, I feel the need to justify looking at wedding things? Whatever.

Back to the topic at hand.

Why the HELL are weddings so expensive? Who can justify spending several thousand dollars on a DRESS? I fell in love, the other day, with a dress. I will not be getting this glorious dress because it costs $1000. I can't do it. Even if I had the money, I wouldn't do it. Surely it doesn't cost that much to make the dress. The materials aren't that pricey, and how much time really goes into making the dress?

I've discovered something though. Prom dresses are a lot cheaper than wedding dresses. EVEN when they are the same style, by the same designer, with the same fabrics. I don't have the links anymore but I did find a case where that happened. They even used the exact same picture on the website. The prom dress was somewhere in the $200-300 range, and the wedding dress was about $1000. It was hilarious (but also saddening) So now I'm looking for white prom dresses. Besides, I don't want a train on my dress, and that's easier to find in prom dresses than bridal gowns.

Weirdness about me? I won't wear a second-hand wedding-dress unless I know who else has worn it. I would wear a dress if it was passed down from someone in my family, if one were to exist (I don't think anyone has their dress anymore but whatever). But wedding dresses are..... memories. Keep sakes. I guess I'm a little superstitious. I don't want to wear someone else's memories. It seems in poor taste.

I also fell in love with flowers, but those aren't as dramatically expensive.

I is for Internal Dialogue

2011-04-12T15:12:00.000-04:00

This post is hard for me to write. It means admitting things about myself that I'd rather just sweep under the rug. But I started this blog as a place for me to just get some things off my chest. A place to cry to when I needed to cry. So this is... that. And because this is so personal, there will be a rather liberal use of swears.

Lately, I've really been hating myself, and I don't want to say it, because then what? Is everyone supposed to tell me "oh you're so great"? Will that help? No, not really. Not even a little. People say that crap to me all the time. That's not it.

It's hard to explain, really. I hate myself because I've never DONE anything. Nothing worth being proud of, or at least, nothing I'm supposed to be proud of. Nothing anyone else is proud of. Everyone reminds me how I'm "overcoming" my situation. No. Stop it. That's TOTAL CRAP. Everyone has shit to deal with. I don't want to be "better than expected, given the life I had" I want to be actually, real "good." Good at something, compared to anyone, everyone. Does that make sense?

Children of alcoholics are more likely to become alcoholics themselves. Fine, whatever. BUT I DON'T WANT people to praise me for NOT BEING AN ALCOHOLIC. Lots of people aren't drinkers. I want people to compliment me for doing a good job, rather than for not doing a bad job. And I don't want people to compliment me for doing a mediocre job either. That's shit. If I do average when you expect me to do badly, well yeah, it's good I didn't do badly, but it's not worth complimenting me on either. You're either really good, in which case you deserve a compliment, or else you aren't. There are no "you're maybe sorta good."

So, I tried to be a super hero. I want so badly to be a super hero, for someone. Turns out, I am just average. I'm not cut out for super-herodom. I wanted to be that girl who was a full-time straight-A college student, working 40 hours a week, running her own household, paying her own way through school and keeping up with her own bills, and I wanted all that while still having time to spend with my fiance.

I tried it. I gave it my best.

And I failed. Right now, I'm the girl whose only working 30 hours a week instead fo 40, and still can't get straight As. I'm looking like a B+ student right now. My bills are paid, but I needed help paying for college. I haven't spent quality time with Jeffrey in FOREVER, and if it weren't for him, it would be a mess too. I haven't done the dishes or the laundry in ages.

I hate myself for it. I can look at it logically, and see that, while I'm not being amazing, I'm still doing pretty good, still doing alright, not failing, but it feels like failure. I'm not doing what I want. I'm not doing anything worth being proud of. LOTS of people go to college. Lots of people work and get decent grades. A degree doesn't even mean anything anymore. It doesn't mean you're smart; I've met a lot of dumb people with degrees. It doesn't mean you're hard-working; if all you do is school, it's not hard at all. It doesn't even mean you're going to get a good job.

I'm so damn tired of being not good enough. What the hell. I've given up on doing the things that mean the most to me (time with Jeffrey and writing my book) so that I could have this. So that I could go to school and have my job and be something special that everyone can look at. And now, I have nothing.

H is for Home (or lack there of)

2011-04-11T12:35:00.000-04:00

When I moved into my apartment last month, I was so excited. Glad to finally have my own space again, my own home. Somewhere that I simply loved, was proud of. The apartment is everything I wanted in on. Counter space in a kitchen (not even a kitchenette, but an actual kitchen), a good sized bedroom, and a bigger living room. The bathroom is pretty big, so far as bathrooms go. I have 4 closets.

But after living there for a month, unpacking, settling, it still doesn't feel like "home" to me. My apartment in Radford last year felt like home. I don't know what I'm doing differently. Is it because we aren't totally settled yet? Because our pictures aren't up on the walls? Is it because I haven't spent enough time there to really let it grow on me? Is it because when I am there, Jeffrey and I never sit down and do stuff together, it's always one of us or the other doing stuff? Is it because my upstairs neighbor is super-loud so I hear everything going on in their life, and it doesn't feel private, like my own corner?

I don't know what it is. I don't know why my home isn't... homey. I want it. I want to sit on my couch and feel totally at home there. Totally comfortable. I just don't. I wonder why, I think about how to fix it. We planned on living in this apartment for two years. It's the perfect location. 5 different school DISTRICTS within a one hour commute, for when Jeffrey gets his teachers certification, it's near-enough the highway that we can get on it easily, but far enough that we aren't listening to it. It's right near my college. Right near the mall. Right near several grocery stores. Everything is right there. It's perfect.... but it's not. And I don't know why. and it bothers me.

G is for Grade level

2011-04-09T15:31:00.000-04:00

In the district I grew up in, you had to be 5 years old before September 1st to start kindergarten. My sister was born in early September. We have a cousin, born exactly a month before, meaning, despite being the same age, they were always in different grades. This caused a fair few arguments between them.

But that wasn’t the real problem. The real problem is the kindergarten curriculum. ABCs, how to count to 100, and her colors. My sister was 6 years old. She was reading at a 3rd grade level, and doing double-digit addition and subtraction, and bring home coloring sheets with the directions "Color the A green."

We tried to get her bumped up a grade. Socially, she was advanced as well from a couple years in pre-school, as well as having several other kids in the neighborhood her own age. The school said no. They no longer allow students to be bumped up grades, not matter how advanced they were. (When I was in kindergarten, they tried to bump me up, however I was not socially ready for it.)

Since then, she has consistently been a grade or two above her classmates in school.

In September, she started 7th grade. A few months ago, she was switched to a home-schooling program. Last week, she was about to start regular school, but because she was in a home school program, they had to test her grade level.

Thursday, my sister finally started 8th grade. The same grade my cousin is in. I’m glad she’s finally not SO far ahead.

I’m also nervous. That means she starts highschool next September. Oh. My. God. I’m not ready for that.

F is for Food

2011-04-08T12:51:00.000-04:00

I was going to write about Friends. But so far I've seen three A-Z Challenge posts about friends. I can never ever thank my friends enough for just existing, but I also feel ridiculous writing another post that has been written so much already. And I really don't have much to say on the family-front. What other F-words do I have in my life right now?

Food. I love cooking. I love eating. I miss both. If I had my way, I'd cook a meal or two every day, and baked goods whenever we ran out.

Unfortunately, I don't have enough time to do that. I can cook here and there at random, based on how much time I have, and how much energy. I made french toast last night, when I got home at 10PM. Quick, easy, delicious, and relatively healthy.

Does anyone have any recipe suggestions for foods I can make that take less than 15 minutes? If I could make a meal in only 15 minutes, I might be able to do it more often, which would be good for my mental health (I love cooking) good for my budget (I'm living off a lot of expensive microwave food) and good for my health (see: microwave food).

Recipes?

E is for Eurovision

2011-04-07T15:26:00.000-04:00

It turns out that when I find something I like, I get a bit fanatical. A few years ago I started getting into Eurovision. For those who don't know, it's a song contest. European countries who want to participate choose a song, and in May they all get together, and perform live, and... it's a contest so there are winners and greatness all around.

The countries have all chosen their songs now, and released their official music videos. I'm really disappointed that most of the music videos are the singers performing on stage. I mean, I LOVE seeing them perform live, but that's what the contest is for. This pre-contest build up is about.... pre-contest build up. I was looking forward to the videos. Oh well I guess.

Last year, I was certain from the moment I saw it, that Lena was going to win it for Germany. The song was catchy, cute, and any girl who had ever had a crush on a boy could relate. And the singer, well she was just adorable.There was no question in my mind that it was the winner. It wasn't my favorite song, but it was the obvious choice. (For the record, I was supporting Moldova, and am still not over how low they ranked in the final.)

This year, Germany has my favorite entry, with the same singer who won last year, but the song isn't a winner. It just wont make it.

This year, I'm fairly sure Ireland's Jedward will win, with a song called Lipstick. I'm not as certain about it as I was last year about Satellite being the winning song, but I'm still pretty certain. Let me make it abundantly clear that I CANNOT STAND THIS SONG, and that I think the singer (and their hair!) look ridiculous. Just... no thanks.

A part of me wants to bet on it. Last year, I regretted not betting on Lena when I was completely certain she would win (really, I could have made a small fortune!). Another part of me thinks betting on it isn't a good idea. I'm not as certain of the outcome, and, the real issue, if I bet on Jedward, than I would be hoping for them to win, even with a crappy song. I don't want them to win, and I don't even want to lend them my sideways "well if you win I can make some money" sort of support.

D is for "Day late." It's also for dreams

2011-04-06T12:13:00.000-04:00

D is a day late, because I didn't have anything to write about. But now I do. And E will be on time today as well.

D is for Dreams. You know, the kind you have at night when you're sleeping. Not the hopes for the future (though those are good too!)

I have been having the wackiest dreams since we moved into our new apartment. I mean, yeah, dreams are weird and strange things happen in them, but the characters in my dreams are always physically accurate. People in my dreams don't fly and cat's don't bark. Magical powers? Rarely, and always appear as special magical abilities, rather than the norm in what world I dream in.

But since we moved into our new apartment, all sorts of weird, unrealistic stuff has been cropping up in my dreams. Last night was the first time I can ever remember having a flying dream. I've heard they're common, but I can't remember having one before. But last night I was flying all over the place, rescuing kittens. A few nights ago, turtles were speaking English like it was no big deal. These things don't happen in my dreams. My dreams are more like I'm seeing through the eyes of some normal person, but the person isn't me (usually). I am inside the body of a 5 year old with two older brothers, and the dream is just a segment of that child's life. Certainly that isn't my life, and that 5 year old isn't me, even though she is. It's like that. That's what my dreams have always been.

Sometimes, after I've just read a book, or written something, I'll put myself in that world, and if in that world, flying people are normal, THEN I might have flying people in my dream. But that's rare. And I haven't had the time lately to read or write.

I'm wondering if it's something in the air, or just my body reacting weird to sleeping in a new place. I dunno. But the dreams confuse me so much that it wakes me up. "Melody, why are you flying people don't fly?" and I wake up. Maybe I'm just not sleeping deeply enough.

Ah well. This was a crap post. Sorry guys!

C is for..... everything!

2011-04-04T15:29:00.000-04:00

C is for Crazy, which I am. C is also for the Classes I take, and C is for Chelsea, my best friend. C is for coffee and chocolate, and cream. It's for custody. For children. For College. For Creativity.

I don't know what to write about today. There are so MANY things I could write about. Of all those C words, Custody is the one that jumps out at me the most, but my feelings on it right now are so.... vague. So up in the air, that I don't know what to do.

Two and a half weeks ago, I was looking up what the requirements were for foster homes, and what the rules were about fostering a child from another state. I was contemplating my schedule, seeing what I could change and how it would work. I was re-writing budgets, and mentally re-arranging furniture to make room for my sister in my home.

Something vague happened and she ended up out of her foster home. She was sent to a temporary foster home for the night. That's normal-ish. She woke up the next day and was brought to the DCF office, to wait while they looked for a permanent foster home for her. Again, normal.

No one wanted her.

No foster family would take in a girl with several hospitalizations in the past year. So that night, she went to another temporary house, and the next day, back to the office. And again the day after. And the day after.

Our mother couldn't take her. Her father wouldn't take her. My aunt can't handle her. My father doesn't meet the requirements. Our grandparents can't. Who else does she have left? Just me. So here I was. 20 years old and trying to get temporary custody of a 13 year old.

I was trying to figure out how to squeeze her in between my classes, or how to fix my work schedule so I had time to help her. Or at least time to give her a good morning and good night hug. It just wasn't working. I couldn't figure it out. Every time I found a solution to a problem, another one cropped up.

Do I make enough money to feed her? Pay her electric bill? Do I have the space for her? Does a futon couch count as a bed for her? Is the living room a suitable sleeping arrangement? Can our closet hold her clothes? How will I get her to school? Or will DCF insist on her having her home schooled like she is now? Will she be okay home alone all day? Does she need a private tutor?

and the kicker: I'm 20 years old. Will I be able to make her look at me as a guardian, or just a sister? Do I know enough to do a decent job at steering her in the right direction, for now?

Before I managed to find a suitable answer to my questions, they found a foster home. I was relieved, in a way that I now feel guilty for. I don't think I'm ready to be a parent. I already don't know how I did it when I was at home. Certainly, 20 years old isn't old enough to parent a teenager. Her foster family don't speak much English, and its lonely with no one to talk to in the house. But she's somewhere at least. I can't imagine how much emotional pain she must have been in, and is still in, knowing that, at 13, no one wanted her. I know how much it hurt me when my mom kicked me out at 16. But I still had one other parent to take care of me. She had no one. And I was older. She's in that awful stage that is the beginning of being a teenager. God, I hated being 13.

My mother gets out of her thing (more on that lateR) in a few weeks, and will get my sister out of foster care. The other is still with the family who will adopt her. That's the plan right now.

B is for Book

2011-04-03T12:21:00.000-04:00

A few months ago, I found a desktop planner thing that I had for YEARS and never used. I started using it. I fell in love with it. It was GREAT to be able to keep a good to-do list, and it actually kept me going on the things I needed to do. I guess the joy I got crossing things off or something. I don't know. Whatever it was, it worked.

Then I started school. The planner is the size of a full sheet of paper, like a notebook. I could carry it around with me of course, but it was too big for me to just whip it out and cross things off as I did them throughout my day. It wasn't convenient anymore to keep on my desk because I was always on the go. I started looking online for a small planner that would fit inside my purse. I just wanted a do-to list type thing. Not an appointment book where I blocked off sections of time for every task. Apparently, you can't buy those. You either buy a small notebook, or you deal with the timer-style planner, or you don't carry a planner.I would have gotten a small notebook, if small notebooks existed in hard-cover. But they don't. Small notebooks are ALWAYS soft cover, or at least, all the ones I could find were. I would not and could not use a softcover anything. No matter how often I clean it, my purse is a small disaster, and a soft cover notebook would get torn to shreds. (In fact, other soft cover books I've carried, have gotten torn up.)

I had to make my own, if I wanted a hard cover small book. I formatted pages in word, I found cardboard for the covers, I looked up ways to home-bind books, and FINALLY weeks after I decided to do this, It's finished. T

I would put up pictures, but the colors of it DO NOT MATCH and it's ugly. I bound it with a dark red ribbon, and the cover is highlighter-blue. Eventually I plan on buying new ribbon, and changing the cover color, but for now its functional, the pages are how I like them, and the cover is solid. That's what counts. It's great! I'm happy.

And that's my post for "B" so starting tomorrow I'll be all caught up for C! Yay!

A-Z Challenge

2011-04-02T16:42:00.000-04:00

I've just signed up for the A-Z Challenge, which, for those who are too lazy to click the link (don't worry, I'd be one of those lazies if I wasn't typing this) is a challenge to write a blog post whose subject starts with the letter of the day, every day of April except sundays.

"But today is april second! You missed a day already!"

Yes, not sorta.... The reason my post is late is the subject of my A-post anyways.

And thesubject is "Abdomen"

I've been sick twice this week. The first time, it was a chest cold, and I got over that fast enough. This time, it was a very very strange pain in my, you guessed it, abdomen. It felt vaguely like a sore throat, only in my stomach. That same burn-y feeling, pain. It didn't come with any nausea, but it hurt like hell.

It came on really suddenly, when I was at work. One moment I was standing around, washing trays. It was so sudden and such a sharp pain that I gasped. I doubled over. I thought "It came on suddenly, maybe it'll leave just as suddenly." but after 45-minutes of walking around bent in half I decided I needed to go home. I didn't feel sick. I just hurt, and I felt silly as crap asking my boss to send me home because of it. But walking bent over wasn't working. I was dropping things, and spilling things. I was a mess.

When I called Jeffrey, he thought it was appendicitis, rushed me to the hospital, and did some weird press-on-my-belly test that apparently doctors and triage nurses do. I didn't have appendicitis, so we didn't go into the hospital. We went home.

It was so bad, that I ended up crying after a while. I just couldn't handle it. Jeffrey decided that it might be an ulcer. His mom said it might be some stomach or intestinal virus. I didn't care. I just wanted it to stop..... and then it did. It just went numb. It was the weirdest thing. Totally completely couldn't feel anything. It was like a giant hole in the middle of my abdomen. Gone. It was the weirdest thing ever. You never realize how much you are aware of your stomach until you suddenly aren't.

I went to bed. What else could I do with a numb stomach? I didn't want to eat, in case it was a virus (didn't want what I ate coming out in an unpleasant way) and if it was an ulcer, those hurt more a while after you eat. And the numbness just freaked me out.

I woke up this morning feeling normal. A but hungry, but my stomach just felt like a stomach. Nothing weird has happened to it all day. No pain, no numbness. Just normal. So we're good.

2011-03-24T17:40:00.000-04:00

It's Thursday the 24th. I have been busy going crazy since about the 11th. No break. No stopping. Just busy busy busy.

It's amazing that my health hasn't broken down or anything.....

ANYWAYS!

I haven't been busy for no reason. We found an apartment (a clean one, with a sane landlord) and moved into it (but I'm still not totally unpacked, even though we got the keys on the 4th!). I had my mid-year exams. My father had knee surgery (so far, everything seems to be going well with it) My boss is on a firing spree (but no, thankfully, I haven't been fired. My mother is back in touch with me, and doing well. My sister has been thrown or has thrown herself (I'm currently unclear on what happened) for a loop.

As everything was happening (goodness, there were so many "everythings") I kept thinking "Damn, I wish I was at my computer. This would make a great blog-post!" but it never happened.

I keep thinking that I should start a twitter account or a new blog or something called "Adventures at Wendy's" because some of the situations that happen at work are piss-your-pants funny, but I haven't even had the time to do that.

I haven't had the time to write.

I've been ridiculously busy.

I actually had something to say in this post, but now I've forgotten what it was. Ah well. I'm going to post this anyways, since I've been DYING to post.

Um, updates about whatever it was I wanted to saying coming soon, probably.

Also, a full blog about the apartment coming soon, once it's finished and I take pictures.

"I wanna go 'ome"

2011-03-04T13:03:00.000-05:00

Last night at work I was vacuuming.

About 4 years ago, I was in the car with my mom, heading back from somewhere. I can't even remember where.

Last night, I was tired.

That night years ago, my mother was sober, but tired.

At work, I said to myself "I wanna go home" and I was struck with a 4 year old memory.

Wherever we had been, we had been there all day. It was lateish, nighttime. We both got a case of the giggles coming down the high-way, but we hit traffic and our giggles faded off. "I wanna go home," my mother said in a bit of a sing-song voice. I repeated it, note-for-note. She sang it again, but even sillier, and she kept going. "I wanna go 'ome.... let me go home, 'cause that's where I live, and...." she paused, couldn't come up with another line. I filled in "and that's why I call it home." We both laughed, and sang that silly-stupid song several times on our way home.

I started crying, while I vacuumed. Despite the bad times my mother and I have had, we also had some good times. Mostly when she was sober, but even one or two times when she was drunk. We were pretty close, despite it all.

I haven't heard from her at all since I saw her at Christmas. No phone calls. Nothing at all. not even a "Mumma says hi" from anyone else that I know has talked to her.

Last night, I would have given anything for a mom-hug, or a silly song. I miss her so much. I miss the her that I loved. Where is she? How is she? I wish I could call her. She's my mom. I miss her.

Apartment Hunting: A Poem

2011-02-21T15:18:00.000-05:00

On Saturday we went and looked at an apartment. It was nice, but it was a little higher-priced than we had thought, and it's location wasn't too convenient. There were some more that we wanted to look at but our schedules and the schedules of the land-lords didn't match up, so this morning, armed with a camera, Jeffrey went and looked at two of them without me. He sent me the following in a text message. I read it, and my first thought was "That sounds sort of like a poem" so here you go.

Second Apartment We Looked At - by Jeffrey
Schizo landlady, leaking ceiling
Warped Floors, cat-piss smell
Shit smeared Bathroom
Holes in walls
Like a bad movie.

My second thought, after I got over the poeticness was "Ew, no thanks."

I just did the math...

2011-02-10T12:55:00.000-05:00

School started. I'm so thrilled.

But I'm also really overwhelmed.

Here's what my week-day schedule looks like.
7:30- wake up, shower, get dressed, eat breakfast, pack my bag (school stuff, food, work uniform, etc) ALSO try and get some housework done
8:30- Drive to school.
9:00- Classes then work study (two classes on monday/wednesday/friday and only a little time for w/s. One class on Tues/thurs, and longer w/s)
12:00- Eat lunch, do homework
1:00- Another class, then work study again
3:30- a 20 minute cab ride to work, then change into my uniform in the bathroom.
4:00- regular work starts
11:00- drive home. go directly to bed because I'm EXHAUSTED!

I'm so SO glad to be back in school, and I knew what I was getting myself into going back, so I feel sort of awful wining about it. Can you really whine about how hard something is, if you love it? If you knew it would be hard?

I'm sort of stressed out about my homework. I still haven't figured out how or when I'll do it. I guess I'll have to do it all over the weekends, the week before it's due, because I don't have any other time to do it.

I miss Jeffrey. I see him every day, of course, but only during car rides, really. And I miss him. And I miss being able to call my sisters, but I can't anymore because I work when they're not in school, and they're in school during my free hour.

God that's so sad. "my one free hour." But that's what I signed up for. I usually have one or two days off from regular work in the week. This week I was off Tuesday and I'll be off saturday, which will be a glorious relaxing day, except for the homework. My dad keeps pestering me to go look at this house he found online cheap, but I don't know when he expects me to go down there. I just want to sleep. I'd like to eat some decent food. Mostly, I'm living off of crackers, lunch meat, oranges, and fast-food. I haven't cooked in forever. I miss food. I want chicken. Baked salsa chicken.

And a nap. God, I'm so tired. So happy to be in school, but I wish it were easier. Lately, I've been feeling a little bitter about a couple of the people I've met. Most of the people here are okay, but there are some who just don't get it, and blame me for that. I don't go around telling my story, but sometimes an "I can't do XXXXX, I've got to work" comes up in conversation. I had one girl tell me I should quit my job because school was more important, and she "bet that if I quit my job, my parents would start helping out". Yeah? Really? I mean, yeah, she doesn't know why exactly my parent's aren't helping, but come ON? I wanted to scream at her "MY MOTHERS IN FUCKING REHAB AND NOT SPEAKING TO ME AGAIN, AND MY FATHER IS HOMELESS AND BROKE AND DISABLED AND HAS NO MONEY!"

But of course I didn't. I said "I'm sure they'd help if they could, but they really can't right now. If I quit my job, I'd have to quit school, too."

Oh I don't know whether I mentioned it right now, but the uncle who was supposed to help me pay for school can't after all, so I really am going it on my own. Student loans were my worst nightmare, but I took one out anyways. I needed to. I needed to go to school. I'm going to do my damnedest to make this worth it.

I'm going to continue with my A's, and work my "part time" job (have I mentioned yet that for several weeks I've been getting about 36-38 hour a week? More hours means more money, and I need it desperately.) , and I don't care how tired I get, because I know that it's possible. I've heard of people paying their way through school, getting straight A's, working full time jobs, or several part-timers. Now I'm going to join that crowd.

Oh and I've got so much more to say, but it's time for class.

Actually though, I don't have afternoon work study after class today because the department I work in is closed this afternoon. So I'm glad for that, even though it means less hours, and less money.

Pancake Syrup: A Public Sevice Announcement

2011-01-29T15:21:00.000-05:00

When Light Pancake Syrup is on sale for 50 cents less than regular, there's a reason for that and you should not buy it. It's tasteless. It's like eating sugar-gel poured over pancakes. Obviously, I knew I wasn't going to get the full Maple Syrup flavor from some cheap pancake syrup, but I was expecting a little bit more than just plan brown-colored sugar. Ah well. I learned my lesson. No Light syrup again.

Can you Taste it?

2011-01-26T20:44:00.000-05:00

It's so close I can taste it. College. That thing I've been working towards, wanting so badly, since forever.....

I've been accepted. I've been awarded a financial aid package. I've gotten all the forms I need. It's so close. A four year school. A degree that I can use and be proud of.

But semester starts Monday. It's Wednesday, and I still have piles of paperwork to do. I dont have my aid award letter, though it's in the mail. I don't have my vaccination history, which I need, or my advisors name, or my log in. I'm not even registered for classes. I don't know how I'm going to commute from school in the mornings, to work in the evenings, because Jeffrey will still be at work, and I don't have a license or a car.

I'm scared.

I'm thrilled.

But I'm scared. I dont know if I can make this magic work. I'm not sure I know how. So this is hard, and scary, and I don't know what to do. But it's so close, and I've worked so hard, and I'm not giving up yet.

It's all in the words.

2011-01-25T18:09:00.001-05:00

I’ve always been a famous quotations nerd. I have a book (I’ve had several, but damnit I keep losing them) with quotes in it. I also have a box with quotes written and cut out on individual multi-colored, multi-shaped sheets of paper. It’s gorgeous. And of course, on the header here my "Quote of the Moment."

You’ll notice my quote of the moment hasn’t changed in a long time. "Don’t ever miss the miracle." That’s because that quote still rings true in my head. Even in the worst of situations, there’s some tiny miracle. Never miss it. Always see it.

And I have, and I am, and that quote means the world to me.... of course, it’s not a famous one, that I know of. My best friend’s mother (whom I love dearly) said it after a death in the family.

Now that’s not the only one lately that’s been getting me through. I’ve been saying the Serenity prayer a lot lately. For those who don’t know, it’s

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

It’s used a lot in Al-anon programs with family and friends of alcohlics, or other types of addict, but it’s for everything, really, and I use it. Often, I’ll whisper it to myself.

Then there’s another, which I’ve found attributed to several different people, and I’m not sure who said it at this point. It’s "A ship in a port is safe, but that is not what ships are built for."

I’ve been struggling with myself, allowing myself to take risks that I never took before. Sometimes, they’re risks that most people don’t even consider risks.... but I’m a scaredy cat, so to me, it’s a big deal.

There are others, that come in and out of my brain at random, but those three, those are what’s keeping me sane.

The Soap Opera continues

2011-01-25T00:59:00.000-05:00

I've said it before. I've said it a hundred time. But every time I say it, it makes me feel just a little bit better.

It's a soap opera, in every sense. My mothers in rehab, my sister's in a psych ward somewhere, my other sister's in foster care, my dads more-or-less homeless, college is still a question, laundry is awkward, rumors abound!

When I say it like that, it makes it a little easier. A little less..... intense. When I can make light of it, it's all a little easier.

I remember just before the first day of school. It might have been kindergarten, or maybe 1st grade. My dad said "If you wet your pants, just make a joke of it. Laugh it off and it'll all be okay." Being 5 or 6, I was mortified at the thought, offended because he seemed not to trust my bladder control, and a bit confused.

When I was 15, and I chickened out, just before asking my crush out. My best friend, in a misguided attempt to be helpful, asked him for me. He said no. The next day, he asks my other good friend out, through me because she can't get on the computer, and he can't call. She says yes. I'm heartbroken. And I cry, and I try and tell my dad what's wrong, and he LAUGHS. (and I cry harder and curse him in my head)

It wasn't until now that I realize he was teaching me a lesson, both times. The same lesson. Sometimes, laughter fixes it. Sometimes, it makes things a little easier.

So my life is a soap opera. Like a soap opera, it's full of drama that doesn't always make sense in any sort of way. Things might seem to be one way, and the next day, someone comes back from the dead.

Like a soap opera, it just keeps going. As much as I sometimes want to turn off my life story, I can't. It's painful, but you have to watch. I can't do anything to fix these problems I have. Sometimes, I think I should just sever ties with everyone. I can't though. I could, but my brain wont let me. The same way people can't turn off their favorite soap, even when I runs stale. It'll come back, better than ever.

Snow, and day two of my big vacation.

2010-12-26T17:32:00.000-05:00

I saw my mom today.

What?! I know. It’s been a while since I updated. I’ve been sort of floating along on my own. Letting things sit on my mind. It’s been weird. I don’t really know what I’m doing. I like to write blog posts, when I have something to say. A plan, an oppinion. Right now, I feel sort of lost. Floaty. I’m just plodding along without direction.

My mom called me about a week or two ago. I’m happy to hear from her. I’ve missed her. But I’m still angry. She understands that, I guess. We talked about it. We talked about a lot, today. I went to the center she was in. She’s doing well. She says its hard, but I reminded her that everything worth doing requires a lot of effort. I encouraged her. She said she’d stay in her program as long as she thinks she needs it, and she can afford to pay the rent in the house, and for the program. I told her that if money became an issue, and she had to choose between the house and the program, that she should choose the program. Do what she needs to do to get better. To take care of herself, of us as a family. What good is a home that you love, if it’s filled with miserable people?

I’m trying to encourage her, without putting my own faith in her. I can’t keep letting my heart get broken. I can’t do it anymore. But it was alright. It was nice to see her. I’m feeling strange.

Yesterday I saw my sisters. Manda’s been in a hospital for the past three weeks for an eating disorder. It sort of breaks my heart, but the truth is, I saw it coming. It doesn’t surprise me. Even over the summer I had back-of-my-mind concerns. I worry, but I’m relieved that she’s getting help. She got out on a day pass yesterday for christmas, so we spent the day at her foster family’s home. Me, Jeffrey, my dad, my sisters, and a TON of other people that are awesome. It was awesome.

There’s a blizzard going on outside the house right now. I’m afraid that ti’s going to ruin my trip. I want to see my sisters again, but if we’re snowed in, I cant. I want to see my aunt (oh jeeze, I need a whole post about that) but if we’re snowed in, I cant. I want to see at least one of my friends, but if we’re snowed in.... you get the picture. It’s just a hassle. I LOVE LOVE LOVE snow, but the timing on it is so awful. I’m not pleased.

I feel strange tonight. Really emotional, but sort of disconnected. I dunno. I just don’t know.

Albus Percival Wulferic Brian Dumbledore

2010-11-29T18:53:00.000-05:00

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. To me, that name stirs a very powerful feeling. I don't know what that feeling is called.

I was 9, when I first read that name. It was the summer before I started 4th grade. I remember reading that name and thinking that I'd never remember the whole thing, the whole name. It was a long name, and strange to spell. But I remember reading it, and finishing that book, and thinking that he was an amazing man.

The name somehow cemented itself in my head at some point over the last 11 years. I remember a time when I couldn't remember anything other than "Albus Dumbledore's full name is long." I don't remember when the name actually stuck with me though. When I realized I knew all five parts and could spell them all correctly.

It doesn't matter. The name means the same thing to me now that it meant when I was 9. It means a hero.

Dumbledore started out a kind, wise hero with twinkly eyes, and by the end of the series, his flaws, his mistakes, and his darker secrets were laid bare...... But he was still and always will be my hero.

Someone pointed out to me the other day, that in a sense, Dumbledore represents innocence and it's loss throughout the series, and in many ways that's true. But there's more to him than that. Even though in the end some of his really awful characteristics, awful truths from his past, and many mistakes are shown, he is still, somehow, always a hero.

How many stories do you read in which the hero is like that? I don't mean flawed. All the best heroes are flawed. But for a hero to go from flawless to best-buddies-with-the-darkest-wizard-before-voldemort? To go from sweet old man to a power crazed one? To go from twinkly-eyed to a potential murderer? From friendly to stuck-up? I feel like a hero with a dark past is a lot easier to handle from the get-go than it is for a hero's dark past to be revealed later. I feel like if that happened in most books I read, I'd be sort of....I dont know. Angry. Offended. I'd feel betrayed. But somehow, with Dumbledore, though I feel a bit of the sting of betrayal, ultimately, it doesn't really tarnish my view of him all that much. I think J. K. Rowling did a good job of introducing these aspects of him, without ruining him.

Mostly though, this is about Dumbledore himself. The character. Not the way he was written, but the way he was. And he's a hero, in my eyes, always.

Someone Else's Battle

2010-11-22T00:17:00.001-05:00

I'm staying out of arguments that are not my own. I'm trying very VERY hard, not to get involved.

But my 50-something year old ex-stepfather just called my 13 year old sister, his daughter, a bitch.
I'm fuming. I'm honestly ready to punch the wall. I'm so FUCKING ANGRY that it's not even funny.

And I need to dump this somewhere, because I know that I should not get involved in someone else's arguments, and more-so, because I know that if I said anything, it would make the issue worse, and get both of them angry with me, because they both deserve tellings-off.

Amanda posted a facebook status that she was glad to have her boyfriend back. Her father commented on it saying "grow up kid." There was a lot of back and forth, during which manda told her father to fuck off, and he called her trashy and unintelligent, she told him to leave her alone, and the conversation went on, for another ten or so comments, with manda repeating "leave me alone" and "fuck you" and Tony going on about how he's not a bad dad, and how it's our mom that manda should be angry with, and everything came to a head when tony said "you BITCH"

Without thinking, I typed out the following
"Manda- I don't expect you and Tony to be best friends, but at least try not to pick fights with him. No, he wasn't in most of your life, but still, he is your father. Don't swear at him, at the very least.

Tony- You are a grown man. She is a 13 year old kid. There is NO REASON for you to insult her intelligence, or call her a bitch. I get that she insulted you, but honestly? That was VERY uncalled for. You told her to grow up, but you know what? She's still a kid. You need to grow up too."

And then I never posted it, because I realized that it wasn't my place. But my blood was boiling. I'm still tempted to go over and post it, but the time-stamp says it was from last night, and I really don't want to irritate the situation further, since it's somewhat defused.

EDIT: It's a day or two later, but the incident made a surprise re-appearance appearance on facebook. And then my sweet little Lauren comes to the rescue and says almost exactly what I was going to say "Shut up ur her father not a little boy so start acting like it." I can't say anything to her about it, because I don't want to encourage the general idea of being rude to her father. But secretly, I'm so SO proud of her for standing up for her older sister, and telling her father exactly how things are, without being over-the-top rude. Just enough to get his attention.

Happy Birthday To Me

2010-11-18T10:43:00.000-05:00

Well, I feel obligated to do a birthday posts, but honestly, I've got nothing to say. My birthday was, for the most part, not blog-worthy.

Jeffrey worked all morning, so I was home alone (Grandma was out). I puttered about on the computer for a few hours, told myself I didn't have to do the laundry, and generally just let myself slack. I had to work from 4-11. I left for work before Jeffrey got home. Work was uneventful (except for one guy who just totally grossed me out, AND was an asshole, to boot.) but after work, I came home to a cake Jeffrey had made, and some presents in the form of Oreos and Cheez-its..... in other words, my two favorite snacks ever (and the cake is lovely, delicious)

I think I pretty much broke my record for Facebook birthday wishes, at a grand total of 56 (but that's not counting all the non-facebook wishes I got) so that was pretty fantastic. It's the little things like that, which make me really happy. On my 16th birthday, not one single person wished me a happy one until after I reminded them that it was my birthday. Even my parents and sisters forgot. Both of my sisters remembered this year. It was fantastic.

In other not-so-news, nothing has changed with college. I STILL have no recommendation letter. No one will write me one, or even respond to my emails. I'm going to get in touch with teh Dean of Students today, because this isn't okay. At the very least, they ought to email me saying "I will not write you a letter." Ignoring me completely is just plain rude. And I'm going to be heartbroken if the reason I don't get into Hollins is because I can't get a recommendation. I was a much better student in college than I ever was in high school, but several of my high school teachers were willing to write me recommendations. I just don't understand, and I'm angry that no one will explain it to me. Are you too busy? Did I not make enough of an impression for you to remember me? Did you secretly hate me for some reason or another?

But since this is my "Happy Birthday" post, I'll end this by saying: I'm 20! Woah! New decade..... ten years ago, I was panicking because I thought my entrance into "double-digits" was going to be scary. 7 years ago, I thought the same thing as I entered "teenagerdom". And on my 16th birthday, I fell apart because I was afraid that the fact everyone forgot foreshadowed my future. Now I'm entering (or already in, I guess, since my birthday was yesterday) my 20s. This too, is a landmark birthday, but this one isn't nearly as scary. This one I think marks the start of my entrance to adulthood, and I think I can handle that, whatever it entails.

Funny how fast things change

2010-11-03T15:54:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I was a day ahead on my NaNoWriMo word count, I got told that the college I applied to probably had my paperwork and just hadn't entered it into the computer and that's why I had a letter saying they were missing things. Jeffrey was confident about getting into his masters program.

In short, things were all going my way.

And now it's today. I haven't written a word. Writers block all day.
But the worst part is, I got a call from my college saying they are now caught up with all the paperwork, everything is entered into the computer and they were missing my recommendation letter. So I emailed the Professor I had asked for the letter, and asked if she could send a new copy. A few weeks ago, when I sent in all the rest of the paperwork and had asked for the letter, she emailed me saying she had sent it.
She tells me that she never wrote it and that she was too busy to do another.

This means two things.
1) She lied to me (NOT FUCKING COOL!)
2) I no longer have a professors recommendation. I NEED a professors recommendation. I hardly ever talked to my other professors from last year. I don't know if they'd even remember me. I emailed one immediately after find out that she wasn't and hadn't sent the letter, and I'm keeping my fingers crossed, but I'm scared. What now? What if he doesn't remember me? What if he can't write me a letter? What do I do? I didn't take a full class schedule. I don't have that many professors to ask. And I know for sure that one doesn't like me, and I doubt he would write me a letter.

Rumor Has It....

2010-10-23T18:58:00.000-04:00

Rumor has it....

that the reason my mom isn't talking to me has nothing to do with anger. She faked anger because she was ashamed to talk to me. Now that I think about it, I can't remember her saying why she was angry with me. I just assumed that it was because of what's going on.
that the reason I haven't heard from her in over a month is because she's trying to keep the current situation "on the down low" and apparently that's a direct quote from her
that my mother is entering a 6 month rehab program, starting as soon as a bed is available.
that my mother's drinking has gotten significantly worse, since the kids left, and no one is there to monitor it. Rumor has it that it's gotten so bad, she can't tell a real memory from a dream anymore.

And there's one more rumor, the mother of all rumors, and I was told it in confidence. I can't even say what it was. But let me just say, few people have faith in my mother's attempted sobriety.

Unfortunately, I hate to admit, I'm one of those with little faith.

First Day of a New Job

2010-10-19T22:22:00.000-04:00

Today was my first day working at my new job. My managers are nice, my co-workers are wonderful. The work itself (fast food. Today they had me on the fryer) isn't bad at all. It smells wonderful where I stand. Like hamburgers, because the grill is right near me.

But a little while into my shift, my vision started to go dark and fuzzy. I felt fine, otherwise, so I figured it was just a little spell. No big deal, happens all the time. I stepped away from the fryer, towards the register, thinking that getting away from the heat might help. One of my co-workers saw that I looked a little weak, and offered to walk me out of the kitchens. I said I was fine, but she grabbed my arm, and started leading me away anyways.

Turns out, the front was a good idea. Before we got out of the kitchen, I apparently passed out completely. From my memory, one minute I was walking, the next I was sitting on a bench at a table, and my manager was sitting beside me, on the phone, apparently, calling an ambulance for me.

I felt fine, before I passed out, other than the fact that my vision was almost totally gone. After wards, I felt sort of like I had the flu. I was tired, my limbs felt heavy, the light was too bright, and my body was just generally "uncomfortable." I wasn't really in pain, but just.... I felt off, bad. Something wasn't right. My coworker (the same one who decided to get me out of the kitchen) got me a glass of water, which I downed in an instant. The emergency personnel showed up, took my pulse, blood pressure, and asked me a whole bunch of questions. I decided not to go to the hospital with them. I don't have health insurance. I couldn't afford it. I wanted to go. Knew better.

I realized, while they were asking me questions, that I couldn't remember drinking anything all day, except for my morning coffee. I decided I was dehydrated. I was sent home from work an hour and 40 minutes early.

Horribly embarrassing. Horribly uncomfortable. Horribly stupid.

So much for making a good first impression.

Now, I'm just hoping that my self-diagnosis is right, and that i'm fine tomorrow, after a billion gallons of water.

Employed, NaNoWriMo, and Tears of Joy

2010-10-12T21:50:00.001-04:00

A few days ago something really wonderful happened. I cried, just because the situation was so unbelievably touching. I didn't post it, because even though I had tears of joy streaming from my eyes, I was simultaneously having a panic attack about a job interview I had scheduled. The interview is over; they hired me on the spot! I'm thrilled. On to the more important, more touching, unbelievably sweet things. The thing that's made me not stop smiling since it happened.

Small bit of backstory: my sisters have been fighting a lot lately. They actually got into a fist fight a few days ago that Lauren told me about.

The other night I received the following chain of text messages (conveniently connected into one large text block for you to read here, and all txt-speak converted into their normal-word counterparts.)

"Hi Erin, It's Mindi. I now have custory of the girls. I took them so they didn't have to be split up and I could help them. I need your help as well. They are gighting all the time. You need to explain to them I love them and only want to do what's best, but they need to learn how it's done here. Tell them "don't fight so much." I am a good mom and I will take care of them. Erin, I'm so sorry you all went through that you did, but I'm on their side. I do and always will love you all. I just need a little cooperation. I can't have my other kids suffer and take a back burner. We all have to work as one family. Please help that understand that I wont turn my back. I just need us all to work together. Love you, xoxo, Mindi"

I nearly cried at the words "My other kids." She didn't say "my kids" she said "other." It sort of touched something in me. She wasn't putting my sisters above them, but she wasn't ranking hers above my sisters either. That she loved them so much, cared, and really wanted to make things work for all of them..... I can't even really explain what that means to me. I've known the family for a long time. Mindi's daughter has been Lauren's best friend for years, and I used to babysit all three of Mindi's kid. I've always known Mindi was a sweet person, loving, kind, and loyal, but this sort of melted my heart.

"Erin I love them and I will always do anything I can. I just need you to tell them to work with me, not against me. They got in a fight today, so I took their phones away, including Kenzi's. And now I look like the bad guy, but I'm just treating them the way I would treat my own kids. I hope they get it, that I'm a mom that cares and wont put up with BS. Please help me keep them. I'm afraid if they are moved, we weill have lost them. I really love them and only want the best for them, even though it's hard. I'm thinking of putting Manda in voice lessons and get Lauren on Bball."

I can't remember if I ever mentioned it, but Manda LOVES music, is teaching herself to play guitar and loves to sing. Last year, Lauren started playing basketball and loved that too. That Mindi knew that, remembered, cared enough to think about signing them up, made me want to cry. She's such a sweet person. I told her as much, and mentioned how much they would love those things.

"Thank you for your help. I had to take their phones away today because they were so difficult, but that's what needs to be done sometimes. But they will have them back tomorrow morning."

I talked to my sisters, tried to help as best I could. Let them know that Mindi loves them. Reminded them that I love them.

And as happy as I am, I can't help but have a small part of me be so angry that my mother never stepped up to do for the girls what Mindi is doing. But that angry bit is small. I can't wipe the smile off my face, and I'm crying again.
_______________

On a totally unrelated note: I've signed up for NaNoWriMo, and will be tracking my progress (including pre-planning) over at Making Waves, my writing blog.

The Light

2010-09-29T23:33:00.000-04:00

I'm feeling moody tonight, but I've been listening to this song on repeat for a while. I can't really say what it is about this song, but I love it. It's very soothing. It's made me feel a little better. I figured it was worth the share. It's by a favorite artist of mine anyways (which is how I found it) but it's a lovely beautiful song.

Nothing has changed with my family. It's a stalemate. My mother may or may not check into rehab. She keeps telling my father that she will, but she still hasn't. My sisters are angry, bitter, relieved, happy, and just normal kids. I can't help them. I know that, and I know that I'm not expected to help them..... that doesn't ease the guilt. I want to help them.

I was invited to my cousins wedding, but didn't know that until recently. The invite went to my moms house. I never knew. Now we don't have time to get up there in time comfortably. This is the first family wedding that I've missed in my entire life. I've got a lot of guilt about that one, and some bitterness.

I may have broken the headphone jack on my laptop. Everything coming through sounds fuzzy. At first I figured I must have broken my headphones, so I switched to a different pair of headphones. Nope. Still fuzzy. A third pair.... fuzzy still. So I tested all the headphones on my ipod instead of my computer. They all work fine. But I know it's not the music. I've been listening to it all day. It only started being fuzzy tonight. Every now and then it comes in clear (and also much louder!) but mostly its like listening to something while holding your hands over your ears. Muffled, sometimes a bit scratchy. Awesome. NOT.

I can't find where my Harry Potter books are packed. The Book Theif (which I keep getting told to read) is in the same box, if I remember correctly. So I'm reading another of Anne Lamotts books. For the record Rosie isn't her best book. Or maybe I'm just not in the right mind set for it. I don't know. But I'm not loving it the way I loved Blue Shoe or Crooked Little Heart (which is a sequal to Rosie, but I didn't know Rosie existed at the time)

I miss my friends. I am sad about the end of Harry Potter.

I ate chili for dinner. I LOVE LOVE LOVE chili. It's wonderful. I'm at peace.

Located: Lauren. Updated.

2010-09-25T16:47:00.002-04:00

As of 4:27 (which is 14 minutes ago, as I type this) I know where Lauren is. I got a text message from a number I didn't recognize. Turns out its my littlest sister's best friend, and my sister is living there. She hasn't answered my text messages because her phone is broken. This is both good and bad.

Good because:
I know where my sister is, obviously.
I know the family well, and trust them. Also, Lauren loves them.
My sister has phone access, (although not right now because shes still working on her homework, and she has to finish it before she uses the phone) so I can talk to her later.

Bad because:
Only Lauren is there. She and Manda aren't together, and I know that being together was important to them.
I still don't know where Manda is
Or why Manda hasn't texted me.

But none the less, I'm relieved to know where one of my sisters is, and glad that she's in a familiar place, with people she loves who will take good care of her. Plus, they live in the same town, which means Lauren doesn't have to switch schools or anything, even though she isn't at home anymore.

Also, earlier I finally got up the guts to text my mother but she responded that she was furious with me. Apparently, this is all my fault. Awesome.

UPDATE: Located: Manda.
Two hours after this was posted I got a text message from Manda. Apparently I misunderstood earlier. She's staying there too. Relief.

Cell Phones

2010-09-23T12:31:00.000-04:00

It's now Thursday. I still haven't heard from my sisters. I've called them a bunch, texted them an assload, and still nothing.

I've come to the (obvious) conclusion that they have had their phones taken away. The question now is by whom? Both my mother and DCF are likely to have taken their phones away. I haven't been able to talk to them; I don't know where they are. My father hasn't returned my calls (the area he's in has no cell phone service. He may not even have gotten my calls) My aunt has no idea what's going on. I can't seem to get a hold of their social worker, and whoever answers the phone at DCF either doesn't know, or can't tell me. I'm not speaking to my mother.

Oh that's something I never mentioned before. I'm not speaking to my mother. I'm tired of letting her bring me down. There are three situations right now, where I'd be okay with talking to my mother, and two of them revolve around the girls, and would only be temporary situations. If she called right now to give me an update, I'd answer, but I wouldn't let the conversation move beyond that. If she did something to/with the girls that seemed beyond horrible (kicking them out, for example, although I pray she never does that again) I'd call and yell at her. And the third situation is if something bad happened to her, health wise. I love her, and I'd be there for her if she needed me. But right now, I think my presence in her life is hurting more than helping. I think I've become some sort of enabler, by always telling her that things will be fine and will work out. I think I've eased her of too much of her responsibility for what's really happening. It's hard to fix a problem if you think that it'll fix itself. And its ending up hurting us both. So I wont do that anymore.

Right now, most of my anger has gone away. But my worry still hasn't. I want to know what's going on with my sisters. I want to know that they're okay, and that they might just be happy.

Wonders Never Cease- You're 6 Months Old!

2010-09-20T23:45:00.000-04:00

September 1st marked my blogs half-birthday. I'm a little late celebrating. But earlier tonight, after posting that other event-dump-blog, I got to feeling really good.

I need to celebrate my blog.

But first, I need to tell you about a fairly new blogger feature. I noticed it a few days ago. I don't know when it came out. But today was the first day I actually looked at it. It's a little tab called "Stats" and tells me where my views are coming from. It shows how many people were referred from what sites. It tells me what search keywords people have used to find my blog.

Apparently, I've only gotten three hits (recently at least) from people searching. Their keywords? Plumbing, anxiety, and Harry Potter Movies. I think in my entire time on this blog, I've only written one post on plumbing. I hope they liked it! I certainly didn't! But it makes a great story.

Anyways, that made my night. Knowing my blog about family drama is found by people wondering about plumbing. It made me laugh. A real laugh. I guess it doesn't take much, does it?

Anyways, This is me being sappy. I love my blog.

Also, my blog title has rung (rang?) true. Wonders Never Cease. I never cease to be amazed at how much just putting it out there helps. And I think I should start writing more positive posts. No weekly positives anymore. Not that I ever kept up with them anyways, but I think I'm giving them up. Listing positives helps, but there needs to be more than a list.

I'm not going to do this like I did the WPs. I'm not going to write things because I have to. I'm going to because I want to. Because this blog does so much for me, just by giving me a place to dump everything in my head. Sometimes I need to cry. Other times I just need to write down all the details of a situation to get a better look at it. I've always done that. Typed it up. But it never really helped much, and I think that's because I always kept it to myself. Even when no one comments here, it helps. I think I mentioned in my first post today how it feels like the responsibility is being lifted, when I put it out here. I don't know what it is. But I love it. And I love this blog. And even though I know I don't have a lot of regular readers, I'm okay with that. I have a few, some who comment (Shameless plug to Teri, who comes on all the time, sometimes even when she's going through her own problems) Other who message me privately, in various places. I have a few people who I know read irregularly. My page view numbers (which this new stats tab also shows) say that there are a lot of people who read it, if not regularly.

And I've totally lost track of what I'm saying. I'm tired. It's late. But I love my blog, and just wanted everyone to know that, and also to know my blog is 6 months old.

I realize it's a fairly pointless post. But it had a point when I started. Whatever.

And the Drama Continues!

2010-09-20T19:32:00.000-04:00

Immediately after my last blog post, I called my sisters. The blog was a dump, so that I could talk to the girl with a clear head. So that I could tell them I love them, without bursting into tears.

For the record, it didn't work. I cried. Lots.

Everything is happening way too fast. I've talked to who-knows-how-many-people in the past few days. In a weird, backass way, it makes me proud of myself. I usually hate talking on the phone. I get really bad phone-anxiety. It makes me sick. But I've been able, for the last few days, to talk to all sorts of people without freaking out.... at least, not freaking out at the thought of a phone call. There's been a lot of freaking out about other things.

It helps, for me to put the story out here. Even if there's no advice, even if I don't get a single comment, it helps for me to just put this out here. It's like the blog takes this burden from me. Lifts it off my shoulders. It's like I make the problem belong to the computer, instead of to me.

But I've lost track of everything. I called my dad, expecting that my mother would have asked him to bail her out. I wanted more details. My dad didn't answer the phone.

I called my sisters, expecting them to be at a friends house. That's what my aunt had said. Turns out, later in the evening, not long before I called, Child and Family services went and brought them to foster care. They were in the same house. I was satisfied, with that part. I hate that they have to be in this position to start with, but I'm glad that they are at least together. That was why they didn't want me to call DCF to begin with. They didn't want to be separated. I actually called DCF to thank them about this.

I called them, and we all cried. Amanda didn't want to talk because she hates to talk and cry at the same time. Lauren didn't want to talk either, but she was the one who answered the phone, so she got stuck with me. I needed to tell her I love her, and that if she needs me, she can always call me. They didn't know any more than I did, about what was going on. I probably told her 6 times that I love her, and to tell Manda that I love her too. Eventually, Lauren had to get off the phone.

Not long after, my dad called. This was still the Arrest Day (from here on out, that's AD) He asked what I knew. I told him that I knew almost nothing. He didn't know either. He had been working off cape, and I was right, my mom asked him to bail her out. One of the first things my dad said to me was "She asked me to bail her out, and I did, but I think I probably shouldn't have. She caught me off guard, and I just reacted."

No, Daddy, you shouldn't have bailed her out, but I don't blame you. I did the same thing over the summer. Granted, it was probably a difference offense, but I didn't know what it was, when I bailed her out. I just did what I did without thinking.

He also told me that when my mother was arrested, she was showing no visible signs of drunkenness, but because my sisters insisted she was drunk, they gave her a breathalyzer. Apparently, they were very concerned by the number that came out. They let my dad bail her out, but said she couldn't leave until the next morning, because she was that drunk. I was unsurprised. My mother doesn't usually get "normal" drunken signs. She doesn't slur her words, she can walk in a straight line, she doesn't seem confused. Her drunken signs are anger, and being weak. She can walk in a straight line, up until the point where she's too weak to stand on her own. This is right before she passes out, at which point, that is her new drunken sign.

Anyways, my father told me that he was going to see what he could do about the girls living with him again. He even said he'd make peace with Tony, if that's what it took. My dad hates Tony almost as much as I do. I was stunned when he said that, but I admire my father so much, for being willing to do that for kids that aren't even his. I admire my father for loving people, and specifically, loving my girls, that much. My dad is my hero. He always has been, but this, this just re-enforced it.

AD+1 day.
My sister is online, on Facebook. I message her. Hey, how are you, what's up, you feeling any better, I love you. The normal things. The things she'd expect with this situation. From her, I hear that they were told that they're going home on Monday. I was hoping someone lied to her. Hoping that it was a (slightly misguided) attempt at comforting her.

DCF wont release information on my sisters to me. They never have. So today, instead, I called them to make a request. As a sort of test, I asked them to keep my sisters together in the same house. They finally told me that the girls were going home, on Monday. Fuck.

AD+2, Monday, Today.
At a little before 5 O'clock I texted my sisters. I said "Hey, what's going on?" Lauren never responded to my message. Manda sent back a reply "nothn cnt tk bye" Manda's big on shortening words, but that was sparse, even for her. She usually spells out "cant" and "talk" anyways, and that isn't usually how she abbreviates nothing.

I haven't heard anything at all from anyone since. I've made a few phone calls, but nothing. Panicking? You bet!

Three

2010-09-18T20:05:00.000-04:00

3 warrants.

Three outstanding warrants for my mothers arrest.

And she was arrested

Drunk

Custody seized

not one freaking phone call. Not from my mother, not from my father, not from either sister, not from the cops, not from DCF

From my aunt. From my aunt, who my sister called in tears. From my aunt, apologizing for not being able to take my sisters.

I don’t blame my aunt. I only blame my mother. But I can’t believe that after all this no one called me.

I can’t fix it. I know that’s why no one called me.

I’m so freaking disappointed in my mother.

I hurt for my sisters.

And I hurt for my aunt.

And my pride is a little sore

But mostly, I hurt for my sisters, and I’m angry with my mother.

And curious, as to what those three warrants were for.

Three
Freaking
Warrants

And some awful, guilty part of me hopes my mother stays where she is for a long time. Because my sisters deserve better than that, and if she isn't in jail, she's not going to give them up. How twisted is that? That I hope my mother stays in jail. I must be an awful person, and yet..... I don't really see it. I wish I could help my mother. That's what I feel guilty for. Hoping to pass the burden on to someone else. But at this point, she's beyond any help I can give, and I don't feel guilty, not really, for hoping she stays away.

Leap of Faith?

2010-09-14T20:44:00.000-04:00

It's a long story, but if you don't want to read it, there's a tl;dr version on the bottom. Just scroll.

I started cheerleading when I was 8, for a local rec-football team. I loved it, but it was only a few months a year. Outside of cheer season, I'd constantly be talking about it, practicing old cheers, and trying to talk the neighbor kids into practicing stunting with me (which looking back on, I'm glad they refused, since they had no idea what they were doing and we were all kids with no supervision)

When I was 11, an All-Star team (competitive team, for those who don't know anthing about cheerleading) opened up nearby, and I joined it. It was 3 practices a week, year round. It became my everything (second only to my love of writing) We were good. Not great, but good. We had two teams, a junior and a senior team. I was on the Junior team. Our seniors won first place at their first competition. The first competition any of our teams had. They continued doing just as well at all the regional competitions, but always came in last at Nationals. That was okay, we figured. That's still better than a lot of other teams in the country. Our junior team wasn't as great, but we did well enough. We made it to Nationals, finally, in our third year, and everything fell apart. One girl called us just before our flight and said she changed her mind about coming. Another girl, our best tumbler, broke her wrist in the pool at the hotel. A third girl (and her mother) got food poisoning and couldn't compete because she couldn't stop puking. We had to re-arrange our routine, we all messed up at least once, and we came in last. That's fine. Our performance was really terrible.

None of us knew, at the time, that it would be our last competition. A month or so later, our coach sat us all down at the end of practice. She had lost the lease on our gym. She was having a hard time finding us a new practice space, because we needed it three times a week. She asked what we wanted to do. We wanted to stay together, even if that meant only one practice a week. We'd just practice more at home.

We tried. Our coach couldn't handle it. Our team dissolved. There were no other All-Star teams in the area. I was starting high school, but my school didn't have a team. I had no other options. Cheerleading was over for me.

It's 6 years later, and I still miss the sport more than anything. I'm in college now, but there's no way I can cheer. For one, my school doesn't have cheerleaders, and more importantly, I'm out of practice, and out of shape. I doubt I can even do a decent cartwheel right now.

But since I'm in college, I just moved. And the town I'm in has an All-Star gym. I'm tempted to send them an email, saying..... I don't even know what. I can't cheer, I'm not certified to coach, I've never choreographed anything half-way decent, and I can't even answer phones for them, because talking on the phone sends me into a crazy anxiety attack in which I'm likely to throw up or pass out. And their team is internationally ranked. Mine was only barely nationally anything, and I was one of the least-skillful girls on the team. But I want, maybe need, to get back into my sport. I'd happily vacuum their spring floors (THEY HAVE 2! TWO COMPETITION SIZED SPRING FLOORS! HOW FREAKING AWESOME IS THAT!? ) for free. But how do I say that without seeming like a desperate wanna-be, or a total creeper?

But on the other hand, it would break my heart if they turned me away. I hurt enough for Cheerleading. I don't want to hurt more.

Irrelevant, but we've set the date for our wedding. May 31, 2012.

Apparently, this is about Harry Potter

2010-09-12T13:06:00.000-04:00

Pride, Anger, and other emotions

Lately, I’ve been super-emotional, but I haven’t been able to figure out why. Today it hit me. I haven’t been sharing. Not only have I not been blogging, but I haven’t been talking about things either. There has been a LOT going on, but I just haven’t been willing to talk. I put myself under pressure, trying to keep it all to myself, trying to “be strong.”

I should know by now that “be strong” means “do what is necessary to take care of yourself.” It doesn’t mean hold all that emotion in. It doesn’t mean you can’t share.

It’s not all bad things. It’s just an overwhelming number of things. Just as a warning: this post is going to be really long, and really all over the place. It’s going to be a dump of everything I’ve been feeling for the past month. Get Ready or Stop Reading. There are no other options.

Virginia. I moved back down here, and I can’t help but feel a little ashamed. Everyone feels like I gave up, and it’s so easy for me to feel like I’ve done so too. I don’t like giving up. I know, in my head, that what I did was the right thing. I couldn’t, honestly was not capable of doing what it was I wanted. I couldn’t make money appear from thin air. I couldn’t make my mother stop drinking. And since I was unable to do those two things, I was slowly losing my sanity there. I was trying to make the impossible happen.

So why do I feel guilty? My mother wont talk to me about college. I’ve decided to go to Hollins University, instead. But every time that comes up in conversation with my mother, she gets really angry. Shut up. I gave up the college I wanted to, and in part, I did so because of you. If I had a place to stay up in Massachusetts, I still wouldn’t have been able to go that semester, but I could have gone the next semester, or maybe next fall. But I couldn’t stand living with you, Mom. You made me cry EVERY SINGLE FREAKING DAY! That’s just not healthy. I couldn’t do it. So why, why, WHY do you make me feel bad every time I mention college. Shouldn’t my not being happy at home be my punishment? Shouldn’t giving up something that I wanted so badly be enough? Why do you insist on telling me how much of a mistake I’m making?.... and why can’t I be honest with you, and tell you how angry I am?

And then there’s my sisters. I still don’t know what to do about them? They don’t want me to call DCF. They will be separated again, and they would rather stay together at my mothers house, than be separated in a happier place. I understand that so very much. But it tears me apart. They deserve to be together in a happy place. They deserve better than this. Do I give them what they want? Or what I think it healthier? But is being separated from the person they trust most (each other) really any healthier?

The only person who I would feel comfortable asking for advice is my aunt, but I know what she’d say. And I’m also afraid to call her, because I also know that she’ll be disappointed in me for giving up my dream school. My whole family is college-obsessed and it drives me crazy. I’m going to school. Maybe not the school I wanted to, but school just the same. Why does it matter to them what school I go to? If they weren’t so nutty about it, I would be much better off. But I’m afraid to talk to anyone about anything, because it always comes back to college, and no one is ever satisfied with what I do. I wish people could realize that, at least so far as school goes, my choices are necessities, rather than choices. My mental well being means more to me than whatever school my degree comes from. I wish I meant more to everyone else.

And my dad. Things are fine now, I talked to him 3 days ago. But before that, I hadn’t talked to him since the day I moved out. I kept calling him, kept emailing him, kept getting no response. And I know he was around. He was commenting on facebook about thing. But never to me. It hurt me so terribly. Apparently, he was just busy, he finally called me, but even still, it stings to know that the picture of my sister’s new hair cut was more important than a quick “hey how are you?” email to me.

I’m not really happy here, if I’m going to be totally honest, but all the reasons are stupid. I think it’s more that I’m unhappy because people expect me to be, because really, the things here are okay. Jeffrey’s grandma loves to take care of people. She loves feeding people, and she’s very get-things-done-ish. She once folded my laundry, because I left it in the drier for more than an hour, and seemed pretty thrilled when I thanked her. She’s such a sweet lady. I’ve never had anyone even offer to do so much for me, never mind actually going and doing it all. She’s wonderful. In fact, all my future in-laws are wonderful. I love Jeffrey’s parents too. I wish we got up to see them more (but they live about 2 hours away)

But she has some habits that drive me crazy. For example, she buys things that she doesn’t need, because they have a low price. They aren’t on sale, its not an unusually low price, but she’ll buy 8 loaves of bread because “it’s a good deal.” It is a good price, but it’s also their regular price. She goes to the grocery store every Tuesday. She really only needs one loaf of bread. If by next week she needs another, she can grab one for the same price, since she’ll be at the store anyways. And she puts it in the freezer, to keep it from going bad. But not just the 7 extra loaves of bread. She’ll freeze all 8 of them, and defrost a little if she wants it. It’s really irritating, when I’m hungry. You can’t defrost bread in the microwave; it’ll get soggy. So I have to wait several hours for the bread to come to room temperature. It’s not just bread that she does this with. It’s everything. I’ve never been in a house with so much delicious, but inedible food. I don’t plan my snacks in advance, and because of that, I no longer eat snacks all that often. And I feel so terribly guilty for being unhappy over something so silly. The phrase “don’t look a gift horse in the mouth” comes back to me. But sometimes, I’m hungry and I don’t want to wait for bread to defrost, but I have no choice and it makes me cranky. I don’t like being hungry.

And the final bit, the thing that really kills me inside, is that yesterday was my sister’s 13th birthday, and she told me not to call her. I couldn’t even wish her a real happy birthday. It broke my heart. I don’t even know what to say about that. She wanted me to call in the evening, since she had plans in the day. I understand that. Makes perfect sense to me. I didn’t want to interrupt her plans. I texted her throughout the day a little, and wished her a few happy birthdays that way, but I was so eager to say it to her out-loud. I love birthdays. Anyone’s birthdays. They make me happy. So in the evening I texted her “Hey are you busy?” Her response was “No, but I don’t really want to talk. I’ll probably scream at the next person who tries”

“Are you okay? What happened?”
“Someone said something but I don’t want to talk about it.”

I sort of fell apart. First of all, who the hell pissed my sister off on her birthday? That’s not okay. I was totally ready to pummel whoever did that. And then I was hurt, because I wouldn’t get to say happy birthday to her. What kind of sister does call to say happy birthday? Ten years from now will she remember that I didn’t call her on her 13th birthday and be angry? I should have called, despite the threat of being yelled at. I mean, 13 is a big birthday. It’s when you turn into the dreaded teenager (which is a whole ‘nother emotional mess for me. I can clearly remember the day Amanda was born. How on earth did that tiny baby turn into this teenager? And even moreso, how did it happen so fast?)

So yesterday I was dealing with that when someone posted a trailer for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I smiled. I really love when people post Harry Potter things. HP was more-or-less my entire life for a few years, and is still a very much loved part of it. I occasionally spend my free time browsing the Harry Potter Wiki. So about half a second after I smiled, I burst into tears. I wasn’t just teary-eyed. I was actually sobbing. This movie will be part-one of the very last Harry Potter book. I can’t believe its almost over. I cried when the book series ended, because it was the end. But I managed to remind myself that it wasn’t the end. There were still movies to wait for and look forward to. But that’s not going to last much longer. Since I was 9 years old, I haven’t stopped waiting, stopped anticipating Harry Potter something. First I was waiting for the 4th book. Then the first movie, then the 5th book, and so on. Now what? I have the last bits of movies, and the encyclopedia that JKR promised, and then what? That’s half my life that’s almost over. Anyone who knows me knows that I don’t like endings, even when they make sense. Even when it’s time for something to end. I don’t like books to end. I don’t like series to end. I didn’t want high school to end. I don’t like when songs end. When I enjoy something, I want to continue to enjoy it.

Stubbornly, I’ve refused to watch any of the Deathly Hallows trailers. I don’t want to admit that it’s ending. But last night I remembered right before the third movie came out. I was with Chelsea, and we had been working on a school project. I was in 7th grade, and the project was to design a plant. Yes, a plant. We called it Chrelesanie, which is both of our names merged together. That night was the same day that the trailer for the third movie came out. So as we worked, we had the trailer loading on her computer. Occasionally we’d stop to see how far it had gotten. She had dial-up internet, and it took forever, but I still remember that night, and remember how important that trailer was. I remember when the cover art for the Half-Blood-Prince book came out. I remember one of my friends on the bus had internet access through her cell phone and we spent forever trying to bring up a picture that we could see on her tiny little screen. I remember how much I ENJOYED the anticipation and waiting for these movies and books. I counted down days, and even hours. I have been to midnight book releases, and a midnight movie premier. And I think I finally do have to let myself watch Deathly Hallows trailers. Putting off seeing them wont make the end not come, but it will stop me from enjoying my anticipation of this movie, the way I’ve enjoyed waiting for every other book and movie.

I can’t believe I wrote more about Harry Potter than anything else. I’m such a nerd.

Boston Red Sox

2010-08-26T13:03:00.001-04:00

I went to my first Boston Red Sox game when I was 3 years old. I still have the ticket stub. My dad has taken me to at least one game a season, every year since then. He and I have never been to a losing game together.

This year, I moved back to Virginia before I got the chance to go to a game. I probably wont be able to see them Sox play this year. I can't even watch them on TV, because the games don't air around here.

This breaks my heart more than I can reasonably explain. These games mean a lot to me.

It means spending an awesome day with my dad, without worrying about work. I love spending time with my dad.

It means spending a great day at a place that is magical. Anyone who has been to Fenway Park knows it. That place is just..... you can't be unhappy at Fenway. It just doesn't happen.

It means connecting with strangers. The love of a team turns the strangers sitting beside you into your best friends for a few hours. As someone who has a hard time talking to people I don't know, this is wonderful.

It means watching baseball. I just really enjoy the sport. I've never been good at playing it, but I love watching it. Give me any teams, and I'll watch. In person or on TV.

It means watching my team win. Cheering when whoever is pitching strikes someone out. Jumping up out of my seat and leaning forward, trying to see through the crowd, wondering if whoever is running will make it home. It means being a little anxious when the opposing team gets a few runs ahead (because this happens in every game I go to). It means breathing that sigh of relief when we finally catch back up (in the 7th inning. Always in the 7th.) It means singing Sweet Caroline in the 8th, and listening to Dirty Water after they win.

It's tradition. I'm a sentimental fool and love traditions.

Typing this out helped me. I'm not crying anymore.

Name That Computer!

2010-08-20T10:24:00.000-04:00

Both of my previous laptops had names. Of course, at the time, I thought I was the only one nutty enough to actually name my laptop, so I gave them laptop-related names. (I mean, they had those required names for networking "ERIN-PC" but I gave them their own personal names, which I used when talking to and about them.) The first one was called Toppy, and he was a good computer. I loved him, and even now I miss him. In the end, he died with very wet innards (my dad borrowed him and left him running overnight on a table below a leak in our roof) and with some melted innards (because his fan broke and he overheated rather often) I'm not sure which ended his life, but it was a good one, while he still had it.

My second one was called Craptop, because on the day I got him, less than 10 minutes out of its box he froze and I had to restart. No matter what I did, he just wasn't functional. I ran several different virus scans. No, he's clean. I added RAM. No go. I deleted every useless program. Didn't help at all. I reformatted, back to XP, and even that didn't do me any good. It had to have been a hardware issue. ANYWAYS......

Turns out I'm not the only one crazy enough to name my laptop. I now know several people who have named their computers... with actual names, not just variations of "laptop". That makes me feel better, both about my sanity, and about my current laptop. At one year old, it's still nameless. I think she's a girl. My other two were both definitely not, but this one seems rather feminine.

Anyways, I'm going to name her. Feel free to suggest something, if you want.
That's all.

I know I owe you an update on my trip down to Virginia. I'll get around to it. Things here are still a little overwhelming and I'm not quite sure what's going on. I am feeling fine about it, good even. Just confused.

Virginia

2010-08-06T17:57:00.000-04:00

Everything blew up. I'm going back to VA.

It happened so fast, that I'm not sure I even know what happened. Jeffrey's job fell through. I found out that for-sure I can't go to my college this semester. I got angry with my mom.

I can't afford to support us on my own. Cost of living is too high. More than twice what I make, just for one person. Never-mind for two. We have no apartment anyways.

And we're leaving. Only, now I don't know what to do. I told my boss, but now what? I don't know how to tell my family and my friends. I'm a little ashamed of giving up. Of going back. So now the plan is, move in with his grandmother. Find jobs. Move out. I plan on applying to Hollins, which is right near there, and going there in the spring. At this point, it no longer matters to me where my degree is from, so long as I get it. I need to be able to survive, more than I need to go to Lesley. Maybe I'll go to Lesley for my masters. Right now though, I just need to get out of here, to a place that we can afford.

I feel guilty. I promised my sisters I wouldn't leave them. I promised my dad I'd be back in Massachusetts. I promised my aunt that she could visit my college with me. I'm breaking promises, and in my mind, that's the biggest show of disrespect there is.

But I think that this is what I need to do. I'm sad. I'm guilty. But I need to take care of myself. Every hour I change my mind. Some I want to cry, others I'm glad.

Right now, I'm neither sad, nor glad. I'm just contemplative..... and hungry.

Thought Questions

2010-08-03T20:07:00.000-04:00

As seems to be my norm lately, I was feeling miserable today. Just a moment ago, I found this website. Thought Questions. It's a fairly new website. Only been around since march. Reading through the questions sort of opened my eyes and made me feel better. Now, as a challenge to myself I'm going to answer one of these questions every day for a week.

I will take one from each of the first seven pages on the website. I will also do this, after posting every negative post, in the future.

Today's will be: What do you love most about yourself? The questions on the first page aren't my favorites, but there are a ton on page 3 that I love. Oh well. First day. First page. Today's question.

I love that I don't give up. I simply don't give up. I often say "I give up!" but I don't. If I gave up every time I said it, I would have given up on my LIFE years and years ago. I would have given up on all my friendships. I would have given up on love. I would have given up on my sisters. On my mother. On myself. But here I am, 19 years old, and NOT GIVING UP!

Not giving up on myself: I am going to school, I am working, I am searching for an apartment.

Not giving up on friendship and love.

Not giving up on my family. I am taking care of them as best I can.I shouldn't have to. I know that. I also know I could walk away now and not take care of them. I wont. I don't give up. I don't think I know how.
At least, I don't think I don't know how to give up on something I love.

And I love that about myself. I love that I don't give up. :D

On an unrelated note: I'm going to start working on my bucket list. Every time I go to add tags to my posts, I see that one staring me in the face. I will start that. French braiding. Learning. Now.

Bad.

2010-08-03T17:04:00.000-04:00

I can't even explain how rough I've felt these last few weeks, but every time I wanted to come on here, I felt silly. Nothing is new. Nothing has changed.

We need an apartment by Thursday. I've been looking for ages. Every day, I've sent out a slew of emails, called tons of people. Today alone, I've sent out 14 emails. I've made two phone calls today. Today, I have received two "no couples allowed" and one "thanks but no thanks." I'm getting desperate. No one wants us. Our jobs start soon.

And then school. Turns out, all my financial aid paperwork got screwed up, and I don't know how to fix it. Right now, I'm not even sure I can go.

And my mom is being weird, as usual.

And one of my friends, who moved away 5 years ago, was in town today, but I didn't get to see her.

And my health insurance is screwed up, but that may be in the fixing-process. (but yesterday, I had a huge fit about it, including FALLING OVER because I was crying so hard. And I was at the mall, at the time. I fell down in the parking lot, just to sob. Add embarrassment to my list of bad things)

But releasing them all like this feels good. Thank you for letting me do this.

WOAH! APPARENTLY MY BRAIN WORKS IN SLOW-MO

2010-07-22T20:23:00.000-04:00

I'm really glad I never let ANY of my family members see this. If I let my sister see this post, she'd slaughter me.

For any of this to make sense, we need to go back in time about 11 years. My youngest sister was born and it turned out she had quite a handful of problems. One of her kidneys wasn't working, the other was underdeveloped. Her bladder had strange sacks in it, which caused issues with her peeing and pooping (I promise you, as much as you hate diaper changing, it's much better than having a baby who almost never uses her diapers) and then her uterus was also wrong. Back then, when she was an infant, the kidney and bladder issues were much more a priority than her uterus. She had tons of minor surgeries, and three majors (two bladder re-constructions, and the removal of her left kidney) The doctors said that as long as her uterus was fixed before she started to go through puberty, that things would be fine. If it wasn't fixed, she would never get her period, and therefore, never be capable of pregnancy and "motherhood" in the genetic sense. Even then, the surgery was no guarantee that she'd ever be able to carry a child to term

She didn't learn this herself until she was 8 years old. The doctor mentioned it at her yearly check up. My mom couldn't afford the surgery. Lauren was devastated. We had a long talk with her about adoption (yes. we had a serious conversation about how my 8 year old sister could adopt a child. It was rather strange) and although she decided that she would probably do that some day, she still felt that it wasn't fair. I didn't think it was fair either. Adoption is a GREAT thing, but it isn't fair that it's her only option if she wants to be a mother. I like options.

We couldn't afford to give her the surgery She started puberty. We still couldn't afford it. We were running out of time. In true Boatkicker fashion, I was panicking.

But it didn't matter. Two weeks ago MY SISTER GOT HER PERIOD!!!! (see? that's why she'd kill me. She didn't even want to tell my mom, never mind the entire internet. haha)

I didn't realize until today what that really meant. So lets all cross our fingers that someday, if she wants to, she will be able to get pregnant. (and lets also hope that day is in a very long time, since she's only 11 right now. haha)

Grouchy

2010-07-18T21:58:00.000-04:00

Today and yesterday, I woke up at 5, was at work at 6, got off work at 10, came home, and spent the afternoon melting outside. I was running a yard sale for my mother. According to weather.com the high yesterday in my zip code was 88. Today was even worse (although I think it was also more humid today, so that might be a contributing factor). I don't like being hot. I get very sick very quickly, no matter how much water I drink.

Before I agreed to sit out there roasting all day, my mother told me that if we made less than $100, I could keep all of it. She wasn't interested in making money. She just wanted to get rid of all this old stuff that we wont use, but other people might. We made $57, total, about $10 of which was made by selling things that Jeffrey and I had bought ourselves but no longer wanted. Then my mom told my sister she could have $25, leaving me with $32. Fine. Then my mom told me that I had to buy cheese and potato chips, and she told me that she would be pissed if it took more than 5 minutes for me to get to the store and back. There is only one store close close enough for me to get there and back in that time. I got there, cheese was $5, and chips were $4. Over priced, but I was in a rush. Okay. I still had $21. I was a little annoyed, but I was still okay. $21 is still a little more than I had two days ago. Every penny counts.

About half an hour after I got back from the store, she calls me down again. "You didn't buy milk when you were out, did you?"
"No, but what's it matter. I can just drink my coffee black in the morning."
"I'm going to be really pissed," she said, "if my fridge doesn't have milk in it tonight."
"Why? I'm the only one who even drinks it."
"I want some."
"So that means I have to go up to the store?" I was trying my best to weasle my way out of it. I should have known it wouldn't work.
"Either go to the store, or I'm going to be angry."
"Alright." I said. I paused, hoping that she would offer me some money, but after a moment things got awkward, and I went to go get some of the yard sale money. Milk here, at any store, is around $3.50 give or take a quarter. Just before I left I went back downstairs. No way was I going to the store AGAIN.

"Before I go, I need to know if there's anything else you want. I don't want to make another trip to the store." I said. Her eyebrows rose up, the way they do when she's getting pissed. "Anything you need before I go?" I asked again, this time in a little sweeter tone.
"Yeah, actually. Can you get me two packs of cigarettes."
"Sure," I said, although I wasn't happy about what she wanted. I am rather proud to say I have never bought a pack of cigarettes in my life. "Can I have some money?" I asked. Her eyes grew wide and her jaw tightened. Quickly I corrected myself. "I mean, i dont mind buying food and stuff, but like, cigarettes I just.... I don't want to pay for your cigarettes."
"Well never mind then. I don't have any cash and I'm NOT giving my card to you." It wasn't so much what she said that bothered me, but the tone she said it in. The way she said you as if I were some kind of scum. As if I would steal her money or something. I was absolutely FUMING! The cigarettes she smokes are $8 a pack. If I had bought those and the milk I would have been left with a little over a dollar.

So I went and bought milk. She made dinner, but didn't call me down to eat. Eventually Jeffrey and I went down to get food, and even though she spoke to him several times, she ignored every attempt at conversation I made. Silent treatment. Again.

And the kicker to it all? My mom is now asleep, and I just opened the milk.

I'm rather grumpy now.

Explosion.

2010-07-15T12:03:00.000-04:00

Last night, at around 8:30, I started to a blog post about my mom. I'm really getting sick of her on/off drinking. I'm tired of knowing she downed a half liter bottle in one day, and then watching her hands shake all the next day. I'm tired of knowing that the colds she keeps getting, causing her to spend the day sleeping, are actually hangovers. I want to do something about it. Talking to her didn't work last time I tried. I don't know of another way of doing it, without uprooting my family.

Right now though, it doesn't matter anymore, what the right thing to do is. Right now, I'm too hurt to even think about doing anything. I just want to cry. I'm hoping that sharing will help. There was a huge fight last night, and the only way that I think I can feel better is to type out the whole thing bit by bit.

I wake up at 5am to go to work, so I try to get in bed by 10. Last night, dinner was late (9) and I went immediately from dinner to showering. I planned to go straight to bed after. When I got out of the shower, though, my sister said my mom was looking to talk to all three of us at the same time.

She started SCREAMING at us, all three of us, for not unloading the dishwasher. I was annoyed. I hate being yelled at. I told her, as politely as I could, that in the future, she can tell us without yelling. Turns out, there isn't really a polite way to say that.

She didn't let any of us get up to do the dishwasher, even though her open floor plan would have allowed for someone to do the dishwasher, while being yelled at. She turned to Amanda and went off on her too. Manda had just been on vacation for 3 weeks, and had forgotten that she had a new once-a-week chore. She was only told about this chore a few days before she left. She hadn't even had a chance to do it for the first time.

My mom yelled at Amanda for a few minutes, and poor Manda had no idea what my mom was yelling at her about. She didn't remember at all what her chore was. And my mom kept making her guess what she was supposed to be doing. Eventually I blurted it out, and my mom flipped out on me again.

She kept switching back and forth, from yelling at me to yelling at Manda. After a few minutes of back and forth, Manda said something that broke my heart. "I should have just jumped off the roof that day. I should have just killed myself when I had the chance." I remember that day. I was in Virginia still, but my mom called me to tell me what was going on. It terrified me then, but hearing it come from Manda's own mouth was worse.

And they started arguing more, but I couldn't handle it any more. I started screaming, that I couldn't do it. That I couldn't listen to them argue like this. My mom said "This is hte only way we can fix this! We have to have this argument!" and I told her that I couldn't. I could handle the chore argument. I couldn't handle listening to her screech at my sister, and really really couldn't handle listening to my sister half-threaten suicide. When I started yelling, Lauren burst into tears too. Now all four of us were crying.

I walked off, and my mom told me that if I left, I wasn't coming back, and I would have to move out. I changed my mind mid-step, but kept walking, turning towards the bathroom to blow my nose, which was running because I was crying.

I spent as much time as I could blowing my nose, and blowing as loud as I could to drown them out.

I stopped blowing just in time to hear Manda say "I hate it here. I hate everyone in this family. I never have felt like I belonged. None of you like me."

And somehow, even though I was angry at my mother, I started shouting at my sister. I love her. She didn't seem to get that. Instead she mentioned something that a non-family member had said to her, about how she was going to ruin everyone she came in contact with.

No matter what I said, it didn't matter. She repeated herself several times about how we all hated her, and how it was our fault that she hated herself. I kept repeating myself too. "What about me? Don't you know I don't hate you? I love you, Manda." It didn't seem to do any good.

Meanwhile, my mom was still yelling, yelling over us, and ignoring the fact that this was happening. She kept yelling at Manda about her chores. I interrupted again, just about as loud as I could, which wasn't very loud because my throat was hurting already from crying. "This is why I can't listen to you two argue. Do you hear what Manda is saying? Do you hear what you're saying? I can't do this!"

And then I apologized to Manda, because I really was sorry. I had never ever meant to let her feel that way. I wish I had known a long time ago that she felt that way, and I can't help but blame myself. I went over to give manda a hug with my apology. She pushed me away and wouldn't even look at me.

I tried to redeem myself. Instead of running away from it, like I wanted to, I stayed. I stood up for them. But it was too little, too late. And then when my mom finally let us go, I emptied the dishwasher, and had to go to bed. I couldn't even stay up to make my sisters feel better. Manda was still crying when I went to bed.

And now my mother is giving all of us the silent treatment, which just really PISSES ME THE FUCK OFF! I can understand her giving it to me. After I apologized to Manda, I tore my mother a new one. But Manda and Lauren, I just don't understand. Lauren didn't even do anything. Manda got angry with her, but Manda is just a kid. Was she out of line? Yes. Both of them were. Is this a good way for my mother to handle it? No, not at all.

As I was writing this, Manda messaged me and told me she thinks my mom is drinking. I already know she is, and so does Lauren. My sisters and I are going to have a talk all together soon to figure out what to do. I want to call DCF/DSS/whatever, and get them out of here. But I know that when I was there age, I would have hated if anyone did that to me. So I want to know what they want. I'm moving out soon anyways, so all that matters to me is that they are okay once I leave. And I want them to know that I will ALWAYS be there for them. That I love them.

This is NOT a good situation.

Battalion Bread

2010-07-14T11:32:00.000-04:00

I have a fun story for you.

Today, the schedules at work got messed up, and no one was there until 5am. That wouldn't be a problem in any other grocery store deparment, but I work in the bake shop. We have to have several different kinds of bread and rolls (and bagels and pastries, etc) on the shelves by 6:30am; that was bad.

Then our oven, which had been on the fritz recently, finally kicked the bucket. No matter what we set the temperature at, it wouldn't get warmer than 100 degrees. We had one oven, and an hour and a half. Needless to say, things weren't out on time.

At around 7, we were still putting things in the oven.

A man came up to the counter, after spending several minutes staring at the shelf.

"Do you have battalion bread?" he asked. "I can't find any."

"What?" I thought for sure I had mis-heard him.

"Battalion bread," he repeated. I stared at him for a moment, when suddenly the metaphorical light bulb over his head turned on. "Oh! I mean Italian bread!" I looked around, and we had some in the oven, but none that was already done. I appologized and told him to come back in half an hour.

He never came back, but I giggled all day.

"

Big Things.

2010-07-11T15:41:00.001-04:00

There's something big that I've been leaving out. I think I may have mentioned it a time or two before, but it's really BIG now.

My Dad lost his house.

The house itself is no big loss. Several years ago, before we moved in, he was renting it out. His tenant moved out in the middle of January with no notification to my dad, and with no oil in the tank. The pipes froze, brust, and defrosted. My dad didn't find out anything about it until March, when he finally went down to demand his rent. Of course the tenant stopped paying rent when she moved out.

Most of the house was ruined. The plumbing all needed to be re-done. The wood floors were water damaged. The walls were growing mold and mildew. The former-tenant had left most of her things in the house too, all of which were ruined. And the few things that weren't wet/moldy were flea infested. She had left food in the fridge when she left. Trash in a trash can. Pretty much the only things she took were her clothes and her dishes. The house was absolutely DISGUSTING. So my dad rented a dumpster, threw out all her things, and tore out the kitchen and bathroom, the two most damaged rooms.

Meanwhile, he was slowly losing his other house, the one we lived in at the time. We had to move into the ruined house, long before it was finished. We moved in before he had put the house back together. It only took him about 2 days to get the new plumbing running in the bathroom, but it was months before he finished the kitchen.

About a year after we moved in, my uncle got married, and we went to California for a week. Apparently, while we were in the Santa Barbara sun, our home was hit by a big storm It ripped half the roof off. And our house was once again filled with water.

Thankfully, this time it only ruined walls and floors, and not the plumbing.

The insurance company never gave my dad the money they owed him.

My father works in construction, and this happened when the economy had hit it's worst point. No one was dropping loads of cash to do a nice project. The jobs my dad got were always bare-minimum work. Things that the customers absolutely HAD to have done (ie replacing a broken window in the middle of december). Small jobs that gave him 50 or 100 bucks at a time.
He couldn't afford to fix the house.
He couldn't afford to pay the mortgage.

Fast forward to now. The roof was never put back on. The house is in bad shape. We have a little more in the way of walls than we did when we moved in, but the house is no where near done. For the amount of money that would need to be spent to fix it, you might as well tear it down and start all over.

But that was still a place for my dad to live. Now he doesn't have anywhere to stay. I have known for months that he was losing his house. It wasn't until recently when he told me the date he had to be out by. Previously, he had told me "sometime in september. Maybe early august" Turns out, that the real date was June 9th. He got a few days extension, until today, and he has a place to stay tonight. Tomorrow he's going to VT to build my uncle a deck, which is fine. My uncle will put him up for about two weeks while they finish that.

After that, who knows. My dad has hardly even looked at getting an apartment. I'm worried for him. He's 55 years old. Needs one minor and one major surgery. Has no money saved up. Has no retirement plan, and now has no where to live. I want to help him but I don't know how.

I'm stuck somewhere between needing to talk about this, and not wanting to think about it. Thus, the large back story to a very tiny bit of info. Sorry about that.

Phone Call

2010-07-08T21:08:00.000-04:00

Last night I asked my mom if I could have a day off. I have been working, for work, for her, for my dad, and to move my own things, without a single day off for a month and a half now. I just needed one day where I didn't have to do anything for strenuous than taking out the trash adn wahsing the dishes. She was cool with it, my dad was cool with it, and I wasn't working today.

Today at 5:16, I got a phone call from my mother. She asked me to bring her anxiety medication to the police department. Last night, she let someone borrow her car overnight. They were supposed to return it at 1pm. Several times throughout the afternoon I had gone downstairs, each of which she mentioned that she didnt have her car back. She called them at least twice that I witnessed. Once at around 3:30, and once at about 4:45. The second conversation consisted of her yelling "BRING MY FUCKING CAR HOME!" For those of you who don't know my mom, it probably wont phase you. For those of you who do, you're probably gaping at the screen. My mother does. not. swear..... EVER.

Fast forward to the phone call and I figure, she went to the police station to file a report that her car was stolen, and that her anxiety attack was related to the stress of not having her car. For some reason, I couldn't find my shoes, so I went downstairs to borrow my sister's, grabbed my moms medication, and we went to the police station.

The lobby is empty. I look around and don't know where to go, so I stand there for a few moments awkwardly. Eventually an officer comes and asks me what's going on. "Um, I'm looking for my mom. She asked me to bring her anxiety pills here." And then, I used my moms full name. My mothers name is Margaret, but she goes by Peggy. I don't know why I used her full name instead of saying Peggy or Peg, but I startled myself by saying it.

Of course, the officer startled me more. "Oh yes. Did you bring any money?"
"Money?"
"She didn't ask you to bring money?"
"No. What for?"
"She didn't tell you?"
Of course by this point, I'm totally confused. I get this bad feeling in my gut, and don't say a thing.
"She's been arrested." he says. "Why don't I go ask her what she wants from you."
He goes. He comes back and hands me her debit card. "She says she has $260 in her bank account. She can be bailed out for that. She says go get $260. Use her savings account, not her checking. Do you know her PIN number?"
Apparently, when I'm under stress, I focus more on grammar than what people actually mean by their comments. I thought for a moment about the phrase "PIN number" before realizing what he asked.
"Oh, uh, yeah."

So we went to the nearest ATM, got stuck and traffic, and showed back up 45 minutes later. I gave the officer the money and asked what my mother had been arrested for. He told me he wasn't allowed to tell me but that it was minor, and I could come back in about half an hour to get her. I told him to have her call me when she needed a ride. We live less than half a mile from the police station, so I figured the 1minute wait for us to drive down wouldn't be too bad, and it would save me some waiting if things took longer.

Its a good thing I didn't just head down there after half an hour. We didn't get called back for another hour and a half. Meanwhile, my little sister asked to go to a friends house. I told her she could go, but I wasn't sure she was allowed to sleep over. I told her I'd have Mumma call when she got home. I didn't tell my sister where my mom was. I had serious issues with lying to her, but I didn't want to put her in panic mode, if it turns out that she had been arrested for something stupid. I figured, if it was a major problem, I could talk to my sister later.

I finally get a phone call from my mom. And my dad. And my sister, all three calls within 1 minute of each other. My sister called to ask if my mom was home. While I was on the phone with her my dad beeped in. So I got off the call with my sister and talked to my dad. Then my mom beeped in.

We pick her up. I'm in panic mode, and super jealous of the fact that she has pills to help with her anxiety. I thought I was going to puke. Finally I ask her what happened.

Her car insurance was canceled because they couldn't find record of a fine she paid 9 years ago. They thought it was somehow outstanding, and canceled her insurance. At some point, she got her car back, and went to the store to buy milk. Another car, a giant SUV, backed into her, the trailer hitch got caught under her car, and totaled it. Luckily, there was an officer in the parking lot who saw the accident. To collect from the SUV drivers insurance, there needs to be a police report. That was easy enough to file with him right there. Then, as they were filing, he realized my mothers insurance was invalid.

And then they took her to the station, and she called me.

So much for a relaxing day.

Weekly Postives

2010-07-02T21:03:00.000-04:00

Life happens too fast.

Seriously, I haven't had the time to write a decent blog post in ages. It's not because I haven't had anything to say. I've got more than enough to say. I just haven't had the time to say it. Hopefully, I will write this whole post without my mother calling me again.

Okay. No that didn't happen. As soon as I hit the enter key to start a new paragraph, my cell phone rang. Guess who it was? Yeah. My mom. Talk about timing!

So much has happened, both good and bad things. I know it's not Thursday, but I'm doing my weekly (only not so weekly anymore. I'll get better. Promise promise!) positives. Mostly, I'm just feeling positive right now. There are negatives, several of them, but I'm not going to let them bother me. I'm not going to dwell on them.

Here we go.

1) Big news. Big, not-so-new News that I never had the chance to share. I GOT INTO MY VERY FIRST CHOICE COLLEGE. I have since sent in my deposit and enrollment paperwork. Now I'm just waiting for them to tell me the next step (basically, I don't know how to register for classes. haha), and to sort out my financial aid paperwork.

2) My job is pretty nice. The pay checks are small, but I don't really mind it too much, because I actually enjoy the job, I've realized.

3) My mother's redecorating is almost done. It looks beautiful, and I get a break soon.

4) We're having a yard sale. I get to keep the profits.

5) My mom has been sober for going on two weeks now,(give or take a few days)

6) I started to have a heart-to-heart with my aunt, which I really needed to do. It got interrupted, but I think I can re-start that conversation.

7) The kittens (photoblog coming soon!) are now fully litter box trained and done nursing. We're getting the fixed next week.

8) I get to see Lauren more.

9) I get to see some of my friends this weekend, I think. My best friend lives fairly close, less than 7 miles, according to google maps. And yet, I haven't seen her in about a month. I'm not okay with that. She's been my best friend since I was 9 years old. I miss her. We need to be less busy.

10) This may have been mentioned before. I finally saw a doctor about my heart being strange. He seems to actually want to find out what's wrong with me. This is a first, and I like it a lot. YAY!

We've Officially Crossed the Line into Paranoiaville

2010-06-21T19:32:00.000-04:00

My youngest sister has been here three weekends in a row, to visit. The first weekend, my mother told me to let her and Amanda hang out, just hte two of them. She told me to leave them alone to bond. I listened to her, even though it was the first time I had seen Lauren in several months. I was jealous and angry, but I held my tongue.

Last weekend she had an overnight. My mother picked her up, and took her to dinner, and then came home and told my sister to go to bed. I didn't really get to see her. The next day I had to work in the morning, and had a party in the afternoon. Conveniently, Lauren has softball practice at the same time as my party, so I wasn't just ditching her. I planned on coming home for an hour or so in between work and the party, to spend more time with my both of my sisters together. I told my mother my plan, and she said that they would be around. When I got home from work, I found out that they had gone to the arcade. I tried to call them to find out which arcade, since there are a few in the area, but no one answered their phones the first time. I called again and this time, my mother answered, but hung up on me a second later. She didn't say hello, just opened the phone so I could hear the arcade noises and then closed it again. I said screw it, and showed up at my friends house early.

This weekend, my mom told us we were going to the beach. Instead, my sister went to the mall with a friend of hers. When I told my mom that I was looking forward to it, she said "Oh you didn't really believe that did you? It was just a cover so I could surprise your sister. She hasn't seen her friend in months."

Really Mom? She hasn't seen her friend in months? WHAT ABOUT ME!? I miss my sister tremendously, and I am starting to think that my mother is doing this intentionally. The first two times, I just thought it was bad luck, or she forgot, or something. But how does one do that "accidentally" three times in a row. I wonder if she's ashamed of me. If she's trying to keep the "bad role model" away from my sister. I know that I've done a lot of things she doesn't want my sisters to do. I didn't get good grades in high school. I got engaged before I even graduated. I know she doesn't approve of those things. See? Told ya' I was paranoid.

And then, the more prideful part of me wonders of maybe she's jealous. Jealous that I used to have such a close relationship with them, and she didn't. I wonder if she's trying to ruin that bond my sisters and I have, so that she can get it back.

I'm tired of it. I miss my little sister damnit, but she's never around when I call. She plays sports, now-a-days (she was never allowed to before.) and with all of them ending soon, they are working harder to end with a bang. Plus school is ending on Wednesday. Hopefully soon she'll be all set, and I can see her, and talk to her.

My mother and I don't get along

2010-06-14T21:50:00.000-04:00

I hate living here. I really hate it. My mom's drinking again, but now only at nights before bed. she's mostly sober during the day. She's only been drunk for about an hour a night, the past three or four days. Then she goes to sleep. I am angry.

But it turns out, I don't like her much, even sober. I'm really starting to learn the difference between loving someone and liking them. I'd do anything for my mother. But I don't like her at all. Even sober she's SO negative. Nothing is ever good, happy, or even mildly pleasant. She can and does complain about everything. A part of me, the part I like to ignore because I'm not a shrink, wonders if this negativity is why she drinks. If it drives me this crazy just being around her, I can't imagine how crazy I would go if I were in her head. You probably wouldn't know it from reading this blog, but I'm usually a very positive person, and I surround myself with people who are even more positive than I am. I don't like negativity. I want to move out.

She brings out the worst in me. I keep catching myself doing and thinking stupid, childish things. And not he good fun kind of childish. More like, the back-talking but not quite logical type of childish. The type of childish that makes kids throw a temper tantrum when things aren't fair. That's not me..... or at least, I don't want it to be. But I keep doing it. And so does she. We're playing off each others bad behavior. I don't know how to stop it, except to bite my tongue. But I hate that too. It's not comfortable.

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUT (and yes, I did just say that out loud and draw the word out) There are other things going on right now which are a lot better. Which I'm trying to focus on. I just had to get that other bit off my chest. I've been writing posts, but not posting, for more than a week now.

I regressed, again. WORK! My job. It doesn't pay much, but it turns out, I actually like it a lot. I work in the bakery of a grocery store. I love bread, cookies, and pastries (all things we bake ourselves) and even though there's no discount, I do get to know in advance what will be on the shelves and I get to know exactly how fresh it is. My co-workers, though all significantly more experienced than I am (all of them have been working at least 5 years in various grocery store bakeries. Some of them have transferred between stores every now and then.) but all of them are really nice to me. It's fine, it's good. I cut myself on a bread knife the other day, but it's healing nicely. (cuts are no big deal. I'm just glad its healing finally. it's right on the joint so I expected it to take a lot longer)

And Jeffreys applied for a few good jobs. Hopefully he'll get one soon and then I can start looking for apartments and find us a nice pretty one. It'll be sad though, to leave my job. I'm looking into what I'd need to do to transfer to another store. At least that would give me some sort of job security.

Good News!

2010-06-03T10:35:00.001-04:00

Good news! Lots of it!

1) My mother has had walking pneumonia for almost two months. I know, that doesn't sound good, right? But it is, because when she started to get sicker, a couple days ago, she stopped drinking. She was in such bad shape she could hardly breath, and I think it scared her almost as much as it scared me. But she hasn't drank at all since then (She has one unopened bottle. I don't know what to do with it yet. She's staying home sick today, or else I'd throw it out or something, but I did get a chance to check and see that it was still unopened. I confronted her the other day and that did nothing, but more about that later.) And she's on antibiotics now, so she'll be better fine. She's miserable right now (understandably so. She's still coughing her lungs out) but hopefully in a few days she'll be good again, and hopefully a few alcohol free days will make her think a little more clearly and keep her from drinking more.

2) I got a job! It took me three years worth of effort to get something as simple as a grocery store position, but I'm relieved. I have a job. I will be getting a pay check. WOOOO!

3) I saw Lauren! Only for a few minutes, but tomorrow (after I get my work schedule) I'm going to make plans to see her next week. I also saw my uncle and cousin for a few seconds, which was nice. Lauren is also coming over on sunday, from about 9-2ish.

4) I'm going to Sturgis tomorrow, taking the bus in (catching up with my old bus driver) and then seeing friends and teachers and what not. This weekend is graduation, and I'm going. (although I'm starting to panic. work schedules are from sun-sat, and graduation is sunday (at two. works out perfect!) What if they make me work? AHHHH. maybe they'll have scheduled me for an early shift or something. that would be fine. or a late one. If not, I'm going ot miss graduation and that would be really sad.)

Anyways, I'm feeling significantly better today than I was a few days ago. Thank you all.

Positives

2010-05-30T19:35:00.000-04:00

I'm feeling crappy, so I'm going to do my positives on a non-Thursday (my normal "weekly" day) in hopes that it cheers me up.

1) I have a nice new solid mahogany dresser.
2) Jeffrey (who prefers to hang his clothes) has a place to hang up his clothes now, so that they aren't piled on a chair.
3) My toilet is fixed!
4) I'm invited to Sturgis's graduation next weekend, where I will watch one of my best friends graduate. GO ERIC!
5) I correctly predicted the winner of this year's Eurovision contest. She won by a mile.
6) My room is a room now, and no longer a storage unit.
7) I've spent a lot of time with my sister Amanda.
8) Anniversary is Monday.
9) It's the start of "Tourist Season" which means that there will be LOTS of jobs available. I will be applying on Tuesday (since I was too busy last week, and Monday is a holiday)
10) My kitties are happy to see me.

Drunk.

2010-05-30T19:18:00.000-04:00

She's drunk again/still and can hardly walk right now. I'm so freaking angry. All I want to do is punch her, but I know that wouldn't solve anything. How can she be doing this to us all again? How can she do this to HERSELF again? She's still going to her AA meetings, and I don't know how she can lie to that many people. People who are here to help her. I tried to help her, I want to. I just don't know what to do.

Last night she forgot Manda at the mall. Way to go Mom.

The bottle I found last night? I put it on the counter, so that she would know I saw it. The bottle is gone, she hasn't said a thing, and I'm too scared to bring it up while she's still drunk. She gets mean, and I don't want to fight with her. So I'm stuck sitting in silence, fuming, and crying a little.

Fuck.

Bottles

2010-05-29T20:57:00.000-04:00

There is a vodka bottle on the kitchen floor.

This Week in BOATKICKERVILLE

2010-05-27T21:01:00.000-04:00

Weekly postives cancelled. Too much going on. Too overwhelmed. Short run down

1) Moving means that you will not sit down at all during the day between the time you wake up, and 10pm. It's tiring. Too tired, besides being generally uncomfortable, also means that i get these lovely little mood swings.
2) Moving also means that your legs will declare war on you because you go up and down the stairs too much. I hurt all over.
3) My dad takes on too much at once.
4) My mom may be lying to me about something important (no, not the drinking for once), which makes me angry.
5) She may not be lying. I also feel guilty
6) For the fifth damn day in a row, I have been so busy I forgot to call my sister. Her bed time at my aunts house is 8:30, and I dont usually think of it until nine. I miss her. I also feel like a shitty big sister.
7) I finally saw my best friend, who I hadn't seen in almost a year!
8) my room looks like a cross between a storage unit, a child's play room, a bedroom, and a laundry room. Make of that what you will.
9) The weather is hot. The tourists are coming, and it's good to be home. I smell the salt. I want to go swimming.

THE END

My Apartment

2010-05-20T23:18:00.000-04:00

Weekly Positives this week are canceled due to:
hardly any time to breath.

Tonight is my last night in this apartment. I still remember the first night. We got here really late, and didn't have anything but ourselves, some clothes, a sleeping bag and an inflatable twin-sized matress. We both squeezed into the sleeping bag on the twin-matress. When we woke up, I was on the floor with the sleeping bag, and he was still on the bed, with just the edge of the sleeping bag clutched in his hand. I was so happy.

Tonight I'm a little more melancholy. It's been a wonderful amazing year, and a part of me doesn't want to leave. I will love being near my sisters, but I'm not looking forward to my moms house. Too much bad stuff has happened there. Here though, in our cozy little apartment, things have been lovely.

This past year, I was living with the man I love. I was living with someone who was actually nice to me. I was able to do my own thing. I didn't get in trouble for doing things a different way than my mother does. I was living in a home that was small enough for me to take care of. I didn't have to deal with my family stress every moment of every day. School was good. Food was good. I got to cook. We decorated, its' a pretty little apartment.

Or at least, it was. Right now it's awful. Between boxes on the floor, and the disassembled parts of our futon, there is literally 3 feet of floor space outside of the bathroom. I'm sitting on a chair (dont like chairs. much prefer couch or floor..... or bed but if I sat on the bed right now I'd fall asleep) about two inches from Jeffreys shoulders. It's quiet. its comfortable. It's private and sweet.

I'll really miss this. All of this. It's become home to me. I'm tagging this as thankful, too, because I really am thankful for this past year.

One Week

2010-05-17T15:52:00.000-04:00

Officially, there is one week left. We have to be out by the 25th. Meaning our last day must be the 24th.
Unofficially, we have less than that. We're just waiting on my Dad to come down with his truck and trailer.

This post is a lot about helping me keep track of things. Feel free to skip it, if you don't feel like reading.

Somehow my dad insists that we don't have that much stuff and I'm scared he wont bring his trailer. He keeps insisting we only have furniture and 3 boxes worth of stuff. I don't know where he got that idea, but we definitely have more than three boxes of stuff. We have 5 boxes of just books. Plus another larger box and a half of miscellaneous stuff. I haven't even started packing the kitchen or bathroom yet. My desk had two very small boxes of stuff. We haven't packed any of the things on the book shelf in the living room yet (movies, spare paper, tools, ankle and hand weights, small electronics). I had to empty the contents of my filing cabinet into boxes, because the drawers aren't removable and the cabinet was unliftably heavy. We have another two cases of paper. Then of course, we have all our clothes and all our linens in the bedroom closet.

Methinks that a bit more than three boxes.

Yes, I have been dying to use "methinks" for a while now.

Today also marks day 7 of when our bathroom ceiling started leaking. It started with just a little drip, barely filled up an old paint tray in 24 hours. Now, we are emptying a 6-quart stock pot three times a day. (and yes, I did just look up the size of my pan. haha) We notified the owners when the leak started, and they told us that it would be a few days and they weren't sure when it'd be fixed. We reminded them today, and they said they thought it had been fixed. Nope. We've been dripping all weekend, and it's now coming down in two spots (however one of the leaks is directly over the toilet so we don't have to worry about putting a pot under that one. It does however, suck to pee because I can't help but get dripped on)

This is posing a problem. For one, its just annoying. More importantly, however, is that the bathroom now smells like mildew. I don't want to go in there. We're keeping the door to it closed. I have to clean in there before we move out. It's really hard to clean a room you don't even want to breathe in. Sucks.
Plus, how am I going to clean the floor if I can't get the floor to stay dry and clean? The water dripping from the ceiling is NOT clean water. It's sort of brownish-rust-colored. The water, even with the pot, splashes. We have towels down on the floor, but its going to be really hard to clean them.

But outside of that, everything is great. Things are getting packed up, the kitchen at least, is alright for cleaning, and the bedrooms. I have a giant cleaning to-do list before we move, which was given to us by the apartment management. A list of what they expect us to do, which is nice because it saves me the trouble of trying to figure out what they want from us. I'm packing up. I still don't know when my dad plans on getting here, but I'm waiting for him to call me back and let me know. Things are good.

Oh, and apparently, you're supposed to wear gloves when you use oven cleaner. I wish I had thought of that, or someone had told me. My fingers sorta sting a bit now, though not as much as they did an hour ago. The can at least, should have some sort of warning. If they have to put "WARNING: CONTAINS NUTS" on a can of peanuts, they ought to put "hey, you should probably wear rubber gloves" on a can of oven cleaner. Yay Harsh Chemicals (I guess I really should have thought of that. Looking back, it seems to be something common-sense-ish.)

Getting in Shape, part 2

2010-05-16T12:56:00.000-04:00

Back in March I made a post about getting in shape. I figure it's about time to update you on my progress.

I did not do the couch-to-5K plan. In fact, I hardly did anything except buy myself some shorts. Then about three weeks ago, Jeffrey and I started jogging. Because I was with him, I did nto stick to the actual plan. I figured that I would just do what I could and let him do whatever he felt like.

It's had it's ups and downs. The first time, I was horribly embarrassed. I was winded before we even got out of the parking lot, and I had to start walking not long after we got on the sidewalk. There's a flag on the side of the road outside a shop that we jog/walk to, and it's about a quarter of a mile away. That first time, I walked most of the distance there and back, and was horribly embarrassed by my out-of-shapeness

My bad knees did slow me down. I was good the first few times, hardly any pain, and then one day it came back. First it wasn't too intense, just a little pain while jogging. I pushed through it. Then one day, while I wasn't jogging, it came back full force in the right knee. Every step I took was killer. Even though I didn't say anything, Jeffrey took me and bought me a knee brace, that same day, and it's lovely.

Yesterday I jogged almost the whole way there and about half way back. I'm not quite at my goal (all the way there and at least half way back) but I'm getting close. I went from barely able to go up the stairs, to almost able to jog 1/4th of a mile without stopping. I'm excited. I'm proud. And, oh my god, I'm SO SORE!

This is the first day that I'm actually hurting. It's not my legs that hurt, but rather my core. I never realized how much my abs were involved in running, but they are, and they hurt. I feel like I've just done 200 crunches. It hurts to transition from sitting to standing, and in the other direction. It hurts to walk. I'm sort of waddling because it hurts less. It's a bit ridiculous. Thankfully, though it hurts, the pain isn't actually bothering me beyond that. I recognize this particular sort of pain, and in the end, it's a good thing. It's that building-up-muscle sort of pain. Nothing major, just soreness.

Mostly, I'm proud of what I'm doing, and I have secret hopes that this might relate somehow to my bucket list. Not going into more detail than that, in case things don't work out the way I hope.

READ THIS!

2010-05-14T11:03:00.001-04:00

I read this and felt like sharing. It's about staying positive. Something I think everyone should take the time to read. It reminded me a little bit of why I started doing hte weekly-positive-thing. Sometimes the "why" is almost as important as the doing.

Here. Go look. Now! :)

http://myblip.wordpress.com/2010/05/14/a-simpler-time/

Weekly Positives

2010-05-13T22:22:00.000-04:00

Well, I missed my Weekly Positives for two weeks in a row. Sorry about that! This week I'll just have to have extra ones.

1) I'm almost positive I got As on all my final exams.
2) Before my final exams, I'm pretty sure my physics project went really well.
3) Jeffrey graduated, and I'm very proud of him
4) My mom and sister came to visit me.
5) I've been excersising, and I'm already able to breathe a little better than I could before.
6) I got myself an awesome new knee brace. They're so hard to find, and so expensive usually, for a good one, but this one didn't cost too much, and it's great.
7) I wrote about 3000 words in one day a week or two ago. What a great day. (wish I had put them all in the same novel though. haha. I don't think any one manuscript got more than 300 words)
8) I'm working my way out of a slump in The Circle.
9) The weather is beautiful.
10) I have slept through the night twice in the past two weeks. (usually I wake up 2 or 3 times a night.)
11) I've been eating better, and I mean that both health and flavor wise.
12) We have finally convinced my father to bring his trailer when he helps us move. (he didn't want to, before.)
13) We have also convinced him not to go to Tennessee on the way home. The town in TN he wanted to go to was 10 hours south west of here. Massachusetts is northeast. Somehow, those things aren't on the same route, adn my dad finally realized that.
14) My dad is working again.

That's it. The end. TA DA!

Time to Vent a Little

2010-05-12T13:06:00.001-04:00

I'm getting really REALLY tired of strangers telling me I'm too young to get married. You’re strangers. If you were a friend, I would think you were genuinely concerned. But you aren’t a friend. I don’t even know your name. You have no reason to care about whether my marriage is a success or a failure, and so your comments about how my marriage is doomed? They almost feel like something that you’re saying just to upset me.

And it’s working. It's not making me second guess myself. It's not making me scared. It's just making me angry. You don't know who I am, you don't know who he is, and your reasons for why its a bad idea, half the time, aren't even true.

Friends, if you think I'm making a mistake, I will listen to you. I will know that you're trying to help, and I won't get angry. I will appreciate your honesty, even if our opinions are not the same.

Strangers I will NOT listen to you. Not unless you take the time to actually talk to me, whcih would make you not strangers anymore.

What prompted this? I found a message on facebook from someone who I don't know. It's a friend-of-a-facebook-friend, but I hardly even know our one mutual connection. When I first read the message, I was so offended that I deleted it instantly, but it said something along the lines of "Congratulations on ruining your life. It's impossible to make a marriage last when you're young, and no one who gets married in college ever graduates. Have fun being in debt and homeless in ten years."

It was longer than that, but I can't remember what else it said. It was rude, and I'm quite angry. Unfortunately, I encounter this attitude pretty often. It's always "You're too young and you're ruining your life." Occasionally it's "Oh you're getting married? I didn't know you were pregnant." That's just annoying. I'm not pregnant, and even if I was, I would not get married just because of that.

Oh, and I'm not ruining my life. Just throwing that out there.

Busy Weekend

2010-05-10T19:17:00.000-04:00

It's been a busy busy busy weekend. I did that one update on my blog, and that took up almost all my free time this entire weekend.

Saturday morning I got a sunburn! No, actually saturday morning was my wonderful fiance Jeffrey's graduation. I'm super proud of him. He was recognized separately from the rest of the students graduating in his major, because he was named Deans Scholar, among other honors. Meanwhile, my sunscreen apparently was faulty. Brand new that morning, applied twice in 6 hours, and yet I still got a KILLER sunburn. It still hurts terribly.

My mother and one of my sisters came down for his graduation and stayed around Sunday. I'm not sure my mom had a good time. She seemed to be enjoying herself but every now and then she'd get really quiet and look annoyed. I wonder if its because we were always in a big crowd, and she and I got no one-on-one time. I guess that's my fault, for suggesting she stay at Jeffrey's grandma's house. It was nice though. I had a great weekend with my sister and mom, and mothers day was fun.

Today though, today was a scary day for me. I am (was?) taking four classes. Three of my final exams were scheduled for today. History, which I was not worried about. English, which I was mostly not worrysome, but my teacher is a grammar-lover, and she has all sorts of fancy grammar terms which I never knew. I knew how to use proper grammar, and I knew what was wrong and why, but I never knew things had fancy names. I was afraid I'd forget some of those. Then I had Physics, which SCARED THT CRAP OUT OF ME! I was sure I was going to fail it. I didn't know electricity. I barely knew waves. Lenses? Mirrors? GAH! On top of all I had no sleep for two days (the sunburn is all over my back and shoulders. I am one of those toss-in-your-sleep types, and each time I'd try to roll I'd wake myself up in pain. Not fun!) I had no time to study over the weekend, because of all the events and familyness. I was sure I was going to fail everything.

But it turns out, the history test was as easy as I predicted. The English test was better than I thought (mostly she asked us about how the rules worked, and not what they were called. yay!) and the physics test. Oh boy. It was crazy. And by crazy, I mean EASY! It was the easiest test I had taken in that class all semester. I was so relieved.

After doing so well on my exams, while being tired and in sunburn pain, I feel like I can do anything! So what am I going to do now? Now I have made an official statement to write 500-1000 words of The Circle before bedtime. And not just any words, but good words. Ones that make sense. I feel like I can do anything!

Breast Cancer Awareness

2010-05-08T22:49:00.000-04:00

I hate the facebook statues that say things along the lines of "If you have watched a loved one struggle with breast cancer, repost this as your status to help spread awareness."

Now before you all run away thinking I'm an insensitive idiotic jerk, please read the rest of what I say.

The problem lies in the definition of awareness, and something key that the status is lacking. For some diseases awareness simply means knowing that the disease exists. This is NOT the case with breast cancer. Awareness for breast cancer needs to be more than that. We all know that it exists, so how about we start actually making people aware of actual information about the disease? Knowing something exists doesn't really do you any good if you don't know anything about whatever "it" is that is existing. You might as well say "I have a left shoe, let's spread awareness."

Let's make people aware of the fact that it can kill, because a surprising number of people think its not a "bad cancer."

Let's make people aware of how common it is, or how it can be detected, or what various treatment methods are and how effect they are supposed to be.

Let's make people aware of different organizations that help with Breast Cancer Research, looking for more effective treatment options.

Let's do a little more than just announcing it exists. This disease isn't something so rare that most people have never heard of it. It's something everyone knows about. Time to take the next step.

Now, I'm off to look up statistics so that I can repost that status and make it a little more effective.

Too Many Kittens!!!

2010-05-05T10:10:00.000-04:00

I love kittens. They’re sweet, soft, small, and it’s so funny to watch them learn and play. But there comes a time when they are just too much. My mother has this belief that a female cat should not be fixed until after she had given birth to a litter. In the past three years we have had four female cats who were unfixed, three at my mothers house and one at my fathers. That means three little litters of kittens, Shyla had 6 kittens, Storm had 2, and Charlotte had 4. My father does not share the first-litter belief, but a friend of him tricked him into not getting his cat Sophie fixed immediately either because she (the friend) wanted a kitten. Sophie had five kittens.

You can’t get a cat fixed when it’s nursing, so at my mothers we were trying to keep the cats in after they had their litters. At some point Shyla snuck out and got pregnant before her kittens were old enough to stop nursing. That’s another litter with 4 kittens.

Charlotte’s kittens were born about a year later than Storm or Shyla. After her first litter my mother called the vet to check the price of getting her fixed. The vet told her $50. She set that aside and made an appointment, but spent most of the rest of the money she had saved on getting a new car, and my sister’s birthday. The day of the appointment came, and the vet told my mom that it would cost four times the price originally planned. My mother didn’t have $200, so instead she became SUPER CAREFUL of keeping all the doors and windows closed to keep Charlotte in the house.

That worked, until recently. My sister accidentally let Charlotte out through a window. Now we’re expecting kittens. Again.

I can understand my mother keeping the door and windows shut for a short-term fix, but she has had the money now to get Charlotte fixed for quite some time. She just didn’t. I love kittens, but this really is getting ridiculous.

My mother expects them to be born right around the same time I move home. I will love the kittens, play with them, and cuddle their fuzziness. But I also will personally take Charlotte to get fixed if my mother doesn’t do it as soon as the babies stop nursing.

Trust Issues

2010-04-29T21:00:00.000-04:00

I've always been a little too trusting in people. I have a little too much faith. I have always expected people to do the right things, even if they have proven over and over that they don't do them. It only takes a few short conversations to get me to spill my whole life story to someone.

But last night I realized I DON'T trust one of the few people who have never given me a reason to doubt them. My sister.

She's never done anything that's really "wrong." The worst thing I've seen her do was yelling at me over something stupid, but we're sisters and people tell me that fighting is normal. I've seen her not do her chores, and get mad when told to do them, but that anger is the sort that manifests in a death-glare at the plates. Is giving a mean look to a dish wrong? Of course not. Is it wrong to forget to do your chores? Not really. I'm a scatterbrain, and at her age I had to be reminded EVERY DAY to do my chores. Sometimes I wasn't friendly with the plates either.

She's 12 years old, in 6th grade, consistently makes the honor roll, auditioned and got into some fancy chorus. She's smart, and strong, and beautiful. She's modest about her achievements, but also proud. She's friendly and silly. She doesn't get in trouble for anything more serious than the above mentioned things.

But for some reason I don't trust her. I tell myself everything will be fine. I know that she has a good head on her shoulders. But something in me worries that she will seriously screw up. She's got a lot of friends who aren't what you typically think of as the good kids. The bad influences. But who am I to let that bother me? I hung out with worse kids than she did. I had a friend who started doing coke when she was 13. I had another friend who had her first pregnancy scare. I had friends who stole, drank, and did a ton of pot. I turned out just fine, and my sister has a good head on her shoulders, so she should turn out fine too.

I'm trying. Right now I'm pretending, but I'm trying. She has a new boyfriend who she wont tell me anything about. He's 15, a freshman at my old high school. I've asked around about him, and haven't heard anything good yet. But I need to trust my sister. My mom knows, and is okay with it, so why can't I be?

I Have No Control Over The Thermostat

2010-04-29T19:16:00.001-04:00

In my apartment complex the small one bedroom apartments don't get to control their own heat or AC. The neighbors in the larger apartment next door do. Since we moved in this has been a problem. Last summer they would not turn the AC on AT ALL during the day (which meant we lived in a 90 degree apartment during the day) but then they would crank it up at about 7pm. Of course it was comfy for a short while but then it got cold, because the AC was high and it wasn't as warm outside. This winter, I lived underneath blankets and that was annoying but tolerable. I can do blankets.

But today was unbearable. It was a nice temperature in my apartment. I was happy. It was about 70 degrees out which is lovely for me. Suddenly I got really cold. I looked at my thermometer. 60. I felt cold air coming out of my vent and put on a sweatshirt to keep me warm. That's fine. About an hour and a half later I start sweating and was beginning to feel a little sick. I took off the sweatshirt and once again looked at my thermometer. 78 and hot air was still blowing through. I was in a tank top and dying from the heat. My fingers swell and ache when I get hot and I had to stop writing. I couldn't type or hold a pen comfortably.

Thank god I'm moving out. I can't stand this constant up and down. Set it to 70 and then leave it alone. Switch it from heat to AC or whatever you need to do but DO NOT SET THE TEMP REALLY LOW AND THEN WHEN YOU GET COLD SET IT UP REALLY HIGH. Your neighbor does not appreciate it. Glad I'm moving in a few weeks.

Ready For The Count Down?

2010-04-25T18:26:00.000-04:00

Today is exactly one month before our lease ends. I'm completely and totally NOT READY.

I haven't heard back from any of the colleges I applied to. I know. I should give them a little more time, but I'm panicking. What if we move before they get back to me? What if the post office screws up and doesn't forward my acceptances or rejections?

I haven't started packing. For a tiny apartment, we do have a LOT of stuff, and it wont stop growing. I keep thinking "Don't buy anything in bulk because we wont have the room to pack it" and I tell Jeffrey, and yet somehow we end up buying 20 reams of bright white printer paper because they were only 49 cents each. Are we going to have enough room in the cars? (and isn't that such a great deal?!)

I'm totally scared about finishing my first semester of college. It's a landmark. How is that over already?

I'm nervous about being in my moms house again.

I'm even more nervous about Boston. Nervous about trying to find a job and an apartment in a city that I don't really know my way around, despite having been there hundreds of times.

But mostly, I'm happy. I'm SO GLAD to be going home to my sisters, and from what I hear, they're glad too. I can't wait to take them out for ice cream and eat it at the beach, because that's just what is supposed to happen. I'm glad to know that if I decide to go swimming at 11:30 at night, that I can just walk down the street and dive into the pond. I'm glad to be able to smell the ocean. I'm going to build a sandcastle. I'm going to wander in the woods and collect antique glass bottles again. I'm glad that I will be able to eat fish without guilt because its less expensive up there, and so much fresher. I'm glad to be able to cuddle with my kitties.

So lets start a count down. 30 days to go.

This year has been wonderful, and it's gone by way too fast.

Weekly Positives

2010-04-24T11:54:00.000-04:00

Oops I’m two days late on my Weekly Positives!
So here we go:
1) I have finished reading Bonfire Stories and I’m NOT disappointed. It was wonderful. I will be writing a review of it at some point
2) I asked people to write me recommendations for and both agreed. I thought they were going to tell me no I’m not good enough, but I guess I am.
3) I got to dress up all pretty last weekend. I love dressing up.
4) We bought TWENTY REAMS of paper for only $8. Now I don’t have to feel so guilty about printing out pages and pages of stuff.
5) Jeffrey and I had a talk the other night that made me realize how I’m too hard on myself. I’ve felt a little better since then
6) I haven’t fallen down the stairs in over a week. That’s a big accomplishment! (Lets not talk about slipping in the grass the other day with the laundry. Haha)

That’s all for this week.

I've been a Horrible Blogger

2010-04-21T22:33:00.000-04:00

I haven't updated in like.... almost a week. I'm sorry. I've been writing my ass off for college transfers. I'm super freaking out, and I don't even care if that sentence isn't grammatically correct. I couldn't "let" myself do fun writing (blogging, fiction, etc) because I was supposed to be doing "important" writing. Ugh. The topic and I totally didn't get along. Finally now I'm done and things are good.

So here's a funny story. I was on the phone with my mom earlier and I had a headache. I mentioned that I hadn't been sleeping well due to the transfer stress, and that I'm getting headaches from the lack of sleep.

Her first response: "You're not pregnant, are you?" No mom. I'm not pregnant. Yes I'm sure. No, I'm not lying. No my boobs are not sore. No I don't have an over due period. No I don't have a stomach ache. No I'm not having unexplained cramps. No mom, I'm not pregnant. YES, I'M SURE! I just have a headache.

This went on for about 5 minutes before I managed to convince her that I'm not pregnant. Trust me. I'm not pregnant.

Weekly Positives

2010-04-15T20:26:00.000-04:00

I've gotten a bit negative the past... while. In an attempt to fix this I posted the story of a woman who I never really knew well, but who gave me hope. I think it might also be good to share a few good things from my own life right now, too. I totally stole this idea from Chelsea who stole it from someone else..... The idea was to make a daily list of positive things. However, I decided to change it to once a week. I encourage you, random reader, to take this idea too. It's always good to acknowledge the positive things in our lives. They can be anything that made you happy. From a simple "Today I looked really nice" to a really big "Today the doctor said my aunts cancer is in remission!"

So now that I've totally explained the concept way more than it really needed to be explained (I'm feeling really wordy-tonight) lets get on to my own list!

1) Today a book that I have been waiting MONTHS to read showed up in the mail. Bonfire Stories by Sevastian Winters

2) This week I have gotten two tests and a paper handed back to me. All three were As. Two of them were the highest grade in the class.

3) I have a pound of bacon in my fridge. Bacon is my biggest weakness ever, but it's rather expensive.

4) I talked to both my sisters this week and they're doing really well.

5) Call me a nerd, but I love playing Left 4 Dead. Both of the times that I played this week, and on many different teams, I have had the highest kill numbers, best accuracy, and least damage taken. Granted, I still play mostly on easy, but I'm still getting better.

6) I've been doing a TON of writing :D

7) I have finally gotten off my ass and started applying to colleges. Go me!

Why I hate having an anxiety disorder.

2010-04-15T19:51:00.001-04:00

About two years ago I was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Of course, because I was a minor at the time, and because excess anxiety makes me sometimes come off as a basket-case, no one told me anything about it. Just "You've got this disorder, but we don't think your case is severe enough to need treatment." Everything I know about it, besides the name, has been from Google.

Cool thanks. Now I've got fancy words that may or may not be the reason I can't make a phone call without feeling like I'm having a heart attack. Now I have words to explain that when you ask me a question and I'm not expecting it, my mind goes blank even if I know the answer. Even if it's something obvious like my name. If you put me on the spot enough, I do not know ANYTHING! Now I have a diagnosis that says "This is why you wont turn in any school assignments that you haven't thoroughly edited." I now have a piece of paperwork that means that my absurdly irrational fears are noted.

Let me tell you, a diagnosis doesn't help. In fact, it might even make things worse. Today I started panicking. I'm trying to transfer colleges. I need to ask for recommendations. I need to call my current college, and my high school and get my transcripts. Remember me mentioning irrational fears? I have a whole list of them. One of the hardest ones to live with is the fear of making phone calls to strangers or near-strangers. So I had to make three phone calls (recommendation, transcript, transcript). My heart was racing.

Then I have to write this essay to transfer. That's fine, except that I had already done one and a half drafts. In the first one, I sound depressed. Not just depressed, but almost suicidal. I'm not. I'm quite content actually. That essay got scrapped. I started a second one. Great, now I sounded like I'm bragging. Overcompensate much? I was panicing more. Cue the nausea.

I thought maybe I would calm myself down my eating an ice cream cone. I checked my bank account. $1005. I thought I had about $100 more than that. I had been keeping track of my account in my head, and forgot to subtract the money that my ipod had cost. Crap. Panic.

I suddenly remembered that I still had homework to do for two classes, and I fell apart. If I didn't do that homework I wouldn't get an A. If I didn't get an A no colleges would want me. If no colleges want me, then I'll never get my degree and I'll never become a teacher and I'll be a failure at life. It didn't matter to me that the work wasn't (isn't) due until Monday and Tuesday. That was it. I get restless when I'm in that state. I had to move. Had to walk. So I did. I slammed my laptop shut, shoved it in my backpack and RAN out of the mall. Bad idea. It hurt.

Ouch, I thought, because of my hurt hip. Then my diagnosis came floating back to me. "Anxiety Disorder" floated through my brain. Great, I thought, I'm a crazy. I can't even control my own actions. I don't even have the presence of mind to not run after I hurt myself. How can I ever expect to be a normal human being if I keep collapsing due to stupid things? Everyone has to do these sorts of things, and if I can't keep it together I must be crazy. I must be useless. And besides, what kind of person doesn't take responsibility for their actions? Its my fault I'm falling apart. Not this disorders. Only very weak people blame things beyond their control. I must be weak if I think that its the disorders fault. I must be worthless.

You see where that's going. I walked around the outside of the mall doing this. (As a side note, I realized today that this mall is HUGE. It took me 15 minutes to make the loop, and I wasn't exactly walking slow. I was as close to running as I could get without hurting my hip.)

By the time I got back to the doors I had ran from earlier I was better. I was still very angry with myself, but I wasn't panicky. I was just plain old angry. I will take angry any day over fear. Anger is easier to get rid of. I am a lot better at forgiving than I am at trying to NOT PANIC OVER STUPID THINGS! The moment I say those words to myself, or anything like them, that's about when I lose it. Funnily enough, when a serious situation comes up, I'm pretty good about not panicking. I can handle fear, or at least I can mask it. My heart rate might go up when I'm scared. I might get nauseous. Hell, I might even puke if I'm that terrified. But when it's a rational fear, I know there should an equally rational solution. It's when I'm 100% aware that my fear is unfounded that I lose it. When your fear doesn't make sense, how can you fix it. And the "not-knowing-what-to-do" factor is what gets me. It's the straw that breaks my back.

I still absolutely hate my diagnosis. Maybe it's better to know what specifically is wrong with me, but maybe not. Maybe I'd rather pretend that all people turn to jello at the thought of making a phone call. Maybe I want to get rid of my diagnosis and say "I'm in control!"

But unfortunately, I can't get rid of it, any more than you can get rid of cancer by denying it. I've been having these awful anxiety attacks since I was a little girl. I have tried denying them, and that did me no good. So now they have a name. Great. Thanks for that entirely USELESS bit of information.

I think that when I get back to Mass (read: when I get back to a place where I have health insurance) I'm going to start going to some sort of therapist. I've gone back and forth with this for a while. My last therapist told me that my mother was right to kick me out for not having a job. She told me that I was greedy, and stubborn and had a very inaccurate view of my family. (This bothered me particularly much since she at the time she said it, she hadn't spoken to anyone but my father, and she'd only spoken to him for about 15 minutes, outside of scheduling appointments.)

But I do know that different types of therapy work for different people, so I'm going to go with that and try again.

Hips and Hopping

2010-04-14T21:04:00.000-04:00

Okay that was a pretty lame pun, but it's pretty accurate to describe me the past few days. I somehow managed to screw up my right hip Saturday while I was getting into bed. At first it was just a little sore, enough to keep me up, but not to really bother me. Sunday morning it was still a little sore, sunday evening it was even sore-er.

By Monday, I could hardly walk. Stairs made me cry. Transitioning from standing to sitting was hard, and getting back up again was even worse. You know what I realized? It's the same sort of pain as my knees get, when I let them get bad. Unfortunately, no doctor has ever been able to tell me what's wrong with my knees. Just that they are swollen and they hurt, as if I didn't notice all that stuff on my own. I don't think my hip was swollen, but I have a feeling that whatever it is, has a similar cause. Now if only I could figure out what.

Eh. It's Wednesday now, and I feel a lot better. Its back to where I was on Sunday morning. A little sore, but I can walk. I still have trouble on the stairs (I am hopping up and down them, it hurts less) and standing up from sitting is still SUPER painful. But I'm functional. I'm not crying.

But the last time I had a GOOD nights sleep was Friday and I'm a little loopy. I'm not totally nuts from lack of sleep, but at least 5 times tonight I've caught myself saying or doing really stupid things. Earlier I couldn't even think of the word "bad" in conversation. I think I replaced it with "un-good." I guess I'm going in and out. A little normal, a little totally wacky, then normal again.

If I've said anything strange to you tonight, forgive me. If I haven't, then that's awesome.

However my lack of total-functionality has given me a new word. I'm totally going to get "unfavorite" into the dictionary. I like it a lot.

Inspirational People

2010-04-12T12:15:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I think we forget to thank the strangers who inspire us. Thanking the people you love and are close with is easier. Today I'm going to tell the story of a stranger. I do not know her name, so I'll call her Maria.

Maria was a 30-something year old twin. She had a 7 year old son, a 12 year old daughter, and a boyfriend. She was pregnant with twins. She had a job, and some cats, and she rented an apartment from my father. It was one of the smaller buildings of my fathers. Just two apartments.

After she had her twins, she went back to work. Her boyfriend didn't have a job so he stayed home with the kids usually. One day she came home early, and opened the door just in time for him to throw one of the crying infants across the room. Thankfully, the baby was fine. Maria broke up with her boyfriend, and kicked him out.

She got laid off soon after. Single mother of four out of work. My father gave her some extra time on the rent, provided she kept him informed of her job searching. Before she could find a job her twin sister and sisters husband died in an accident, leaving behind three more kids. Those three moved in with Maria. There were no other family members for them to go to.

Maria found a job as a truck driver, and they paid her when she was in training learning to drive the trucks. She was making twice as much as she had been before. She got caught up four months of back rent, in only two months. My father thanked her, but told her that he was planning on putting the building on the market, and if it sold she'd need to move. She told him she'd buy it. She took out a loan, and the house was hers. She turned it from a 2-family-apartment into one big family home.

Every one of these events happened within one years worth of time.

A few years later (I think in 2005) she sent my father a letter thanking him for all he did for them, by giving her breaks on the rent, and selling to her. All 7 of the kids were doing well. She had just sold the house and moved to Kansas because of a new job opportunity.

So even though I only met her once or twice when I was about 8 (she gave me a kitten. Oh thats right, right after her sisters kids moved in, one of her cats gave birth. She got the cat from a shelter, and was told the cat had been spayed. Oops.) this woman inspires me. Even when things were at their worst, she didn't give up. Sometimes, when I'm feeling particularly low, I remember this woman. I wish I knew her name, so that I could look her up and find out how things are now. So that I could thank her for reminding me that people are strong.

Sometimes, we need to give a little more credit to the strangers.

Teeth

2010-04-11T17:01:00.000-04:00

IT'S A CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE STORY! PLEASE CHOOSE A, B, or C

A) I am curious as to why you haven't updated your blog in a while..... Please skip to the paragraph that is in RED

B) I am curious as to what's going on in your mouth, and I don't find saliva or toothaches disgusting..... Please skip to the paragraph that is in BLUE.

C) I don't care why you haven't blogged and mouths are disgusting..... Please skip today's blog.

So, you want to know why I haven't written in a while? Well, it's that damn second blog. I got in the fight with the layout (it kept putting things in spanish!) and then it kept being formatted badly. And it's still not finished because I'm poorly photo-shopped. Of course, once I got it (moderately) under control, I felt like I needed to post there. It wasn't fair to post here when my brand new blog didn't have a post. I finally got over that today, when I wrote out an entire post for it and instead of publishing, it somehow deleted. I'm SUPER annoyed. I'll have a new post there by tonight.

Alright. My mouth is a pain in my ass. I'm about 90% sure my wisdom teeth are coming in. It HURTS. Did I ever mention that I have extra teeth in my mouth? Did I ever mention that I got my mothers unusually small jaw. My dentist still has to use kid-size stuff. Have I ever told you that I inherited the larger-than-average teeth of my fathers side of the family. There NO room in the back of my mouth for any more goddamn teeth..... Oh yeah, and my health insurance doesn't cover dental. And it doesn't matter because my insurance only is valid in MA, and I'm in Virgina right now. I currently have a very unhappy mouth.

But it gets worse, actually. This is that saliva filled part. Because a few days ago I got something stuck in my teeth. I brushed them, the thing was still there. I tried to get it out with floss, but it didn't work. I tried to use our nifty electric water-pik that we bought, and that didn't get it out either. Eventually I gave up and left that spec of thing there. I figured there wasn't anything I could do about it, and it would come out on its own. That's not how things worked. The next morning I woke up with my mouth really sore. Apparently my gums didn't like having that thing there. It was still lodged quite firmly between my teeth, but now my gum was all red and swollen. I had to come up with a way to get that piece of thing out. The only thing I could think of was basically cutting it out with a needle. Now that I think about it, there were probably better options. I could have tried flossing again, or more waterpiking. My gum is no longer swollen, red, or painful. Instead, I have that awful itching that cuts get when they heal, and I want to RIP MY GUMS APART. I hate mouth cuts.

A Second Blog and a Funny Event

2010-04-09T09:26:00.001-04:00

I'm starting a second blog. This second blog will be devoted entirely to my writing, editing, submitting, finger-crossing, publishing, and reading. I might do book reviews. I might talk about things that inspire me. I might whine about some chapter that just wont work!

Anyways, it's called Making Waves and the link is here. You probably should wait a few days before you look at it though, because right now I haven't started posting, or chosen a template for it, or anything. Its just a lot of blank white space.

Yesterday was a crazy day, lot of ups and downs. I don't really want to talk about the downs yet, but I will tell you one of the ups. The place where I usually sit has two chairs against the wall,with a table between them. It looks almost like a waiting room. I will get a picture in an hour for you.

Yesterday, a guy was sitting in one of the chairs reading a book. He appeared to be alone, so I sat down in the other chair. There's a plug there beside one of the chairs and my laptop needed charging. I get myself settled in, start doing my usual computer stuff, and a few moments later a girl walks around the corner. She looks at the guy and goes "What are you doing?" He looks up at her and tells her that he's reading. She FLIPS OUT! She starts yelling at him for being with another girl. For cheating on him with ME! On one hand I felt bad for sitting there without checking with him, and for getting him in trouble with his girlfriend. On the other hand, it was HILARIOUS! We weren't even acknowledging the others presence, but somehow that's cheating....?

It brought a laugh to my otherwise less-than-happy day.

My Books Have Turned into a Series

2010-04-05T21:17:00.004-04:00

I had quite a few novel ideas. I have basic plots written out for all of them. I have the first few pages of a few of them. Recently, I realized that 3 of them (working titles of Plague, Reysore and Touch) are actually the continuation of the same story. A series. A few days ago I realized that Enemy, another one of my working novels, is also in that series.

Just now, I realized that The Circle, the one I'm working on my hardest, is also part of the series. It's the third book, maybe even the fourth. Plague and Enemy both come first. Reysore and The Circle take place at the same time.

How did this happen? They weren't supposed to be the same!

(On a side note, I've written 2000 words today, edited quite a bunch more, and come up with an explanation for a major plot hole that I didn't know how to fill. Things are good)

Happy Baseball Season

2010-04-04T11:35:00.002-04:00

I do not like Easter. I have had quite a few bad experiences on Easter, and the one good Easter memory I have is more of a "springtime" memory than anything. It could have happened on any day. So instead I'll talk about the reason that today is a special day for me anyways.

It is the first day of Regular Season Baseball. I refuse to watch, listen to, or follow spring training, so this is really my first baseball day! I've been a Red Sox fan since I was a little girl. I went to my first game at 3 years old. Since then, my dad has taken me to at least one game a season. It has always been the Patriots Day game, which is also Marathon Monday. A lot of the time, my Dad and I will go to a second game later in the season. Once or twice we've even been to three games in a season.

He and I have never been to a losing game together. Not once. I remember one year, 2007 I think, when we were sitting behind (okay WAY behind) home plate. We were down in the 9th, but only by one run. We already had two outs. The guy sitting next to us was talking about rally caps, and how we need the luck to win. My Dad pointed to me and said "You see this girl? She's never been to a losing game. Today wont break that pattern." I don't remember who was coming up to bat, or what sign my dad pointed to, but he told the man that the first two pitches would be strikes and that on the third, he'd hit a home run, aimed right at that sign.

Strike.
Strike.
And then suddenly the ball was soaring, going far away right towards the sign my dad had pointed at. We had a man on second, and he got home. Our batter was still running. He made it. And we won by a run. The man sitting next to us told us we had to get season tickets.

This year, we wont be going to the Patriots Day game. Patriots Day is only recognized in New England, I'm told, so for those of you who don't know, it's the 3rd Monday in April. I will be in Virginia and my father will be in Florida. It's really sad for me to break this tradition. This is my absolute favorite. My father and I have a lot of traditions, and this past year I've broken them. This one is the one that I might just cry over. My Dad, The Sox, and heading out after to watch part of the Boston Marathon. Stopping on the way home (sometimes more than once) at Dunkin Donuts for drinks, and maybe a snack.

Woops, I got caught up in memory lane. I could go on but I'm sure you don't care to hear about every Sox game I went to.

Today is the first game of Regular Season Baseball. The only regular season game today is the Sox Home Opener. It's a Yankees game. The date today is 4/4. My lucky number is 4. I'm taking that as a really good omen, both for the game tonight, and for the season as a whole. I can't wait. I'm pumped. And good luck to all the Non-Red Sox teams this season too.

So Happy Easter, for those of you who don't hate the holiday. And Happy Baseball Season, to anyone who cares about baseball.

New Projects

2010-04-03T14:52:00.004-04:00

Remember how I posted a few days ago about how springtime makes me extra-creative?

I've found myself two new projects today.

The first was this morning. My aunt is pregnant. I was looking through pictures of her baby shower, and saw that while she had a picture with each gift she opened, she had FIVE pictures with Goodnight Moon. And the look on her face in the pictures was happier than in any of the other pictures of baby-gifts. This aunt of mine also happens to be a writer. I wasn't too surprised to see that a book made her glow.

So I was thinking, I haven't gotten her a gift yet. What if I wrote her baby girl a book, and illustrated it myself? I could get just one copy printed for her off Lulu, and maybe she'd love it. I really want her book to be something she'll love forever. After a whiel I decided to make ti for a SLIGHTLY older audience. By I that I mean geared more towards a four year old, than an infant, so that she might read it when she's a little older, too. I'm 19 and can still happily sit down for a few minutes of Dr. Suess. It brings back a lot of memories, and the stories don't totally bore me. I can't sit through Goodnight Moon. Every page is the same. That's not enough for me. ANYWAYS!

I'm second guessing myself now. Another aunt recently had a baby (she'll turn 1 this summer!) and I didn't make her a book. Those particular aunts live close together, adn the families see each other often. If the girls are close, I don't want to inspire any jealousy there. That means I will need to make two baby/small child books, and now I dont know whether to make two of the same book, or one for each.

And I've never even tried to write a story for a kid that little. I used to tell stories to my sisters when they were little, but I cant remember what I ever told them. I don't know many kids that young anymore either. It's been just a little too long for me to remember what a 4 year old reads, and I have no one to ask. All I remember from books when I was little are the pictures. But at the time, I loved the stories too. Maybe I'll go to the book store one day and talk to someone who works there. Or the library. Something.

But what if Rebekah and Emmy don't like the books I give their girls? Or what if the girls don't like the books? And my drawing skills aren't much. At the same time, if I were a little girl, I'd love a personalized book. Even now, I'd love someone to write a book just for me.

I've also started looking into an opportunity to write DIY/Home Improvement articles at $50 each. I'm a little bit scared because it's such a high paying market, but it's for a topic I actually KNOW! I know home improvement. I grew up on a construction site. I have helped with hundreds of houses, additions, and remodelings. Granted, when I was 5 helping consisted of bringing my dad another clip of nails for his finish gun, but when I was older it was actual helping. Installing windows, putting in recessed lighting (up until I fell through the ceiling. I got in a bit of trouble with that one....) installing toilets. Okay, a lot of it's baby stuff still, but I know how to do the heavier stuff. I just haven't had the chance. The jobs were mostly my fathers, so he was the one doing most of the work. Usually, if I wasn't busy doing something else, he'd talk me through it as he did it.

I should be focusing on The Circle. I know that. So let's do that. The Circle, here I come! DIY and PICTURE BOOKS, I'll attack you in a few hours.

Ghosts

2010-04-02T11:57:00.002-04:00

I need to learn to let go. The past has haunted me, is haunting me, and will continue to follow me. I need to get rid of it. What kind of person sits in the mall, and then suddenly starts crying about something that happened almost 3 years ago?

Me. I need to learn to forgive. I need to learn to forget. I need to get rid of it all. There is a shadow over my head all the time. Successful people don’t let their pasts hold them back. I want so much to be successful.

And I want to forgive my mother. I love her, and for her I have to try. I can’t keep beating myself up over the jobs I couldn’t find. I cant keep being angry over our Christmas fight. I can’t keep feeling guilty for not calling her that year on her birthday.

And I need to forgive myself. I can’t keep hating myself for not being able to get her to stop drinking. I can’t keep blaming myself for not taking care of my sisters. I can’t keep crying over the fact that her house was a mess.

My heart shouldn’t race in fear whenever I see someone who looks mildly like my sister’s father.

The ghosts of my past are following me. It’s not healthy, and I know that. And lately I’ve been all about healthy. I’ve been exercising, eating better, cutting out a lot of my contact with the people who tend to bring me down and getting back in touch with people who are good for me. I’ve been planning more and been organizing more to hopefully reduce the number and frequency of my anxiety attacks.

Mostly, I need to stop feeling sorry for myself. Everyone has problems, and I make too much of a big deal out of mine. I need to stop that. How can I help other people if I'm feeling bad about myself?

I’ll end this with a quote from a song which sums it all up pretty well.

I don't believe in ghosts but I'm afraid of 'em

_______________________________
Song Credit: Ghosts by Skye Sweetnam

No Words

2010-04-01T14:07:00.003-04:00

Have you ever read or heard some news so horrible that you think it can't be true? So repulsive that you have to clench your jaw to stop from crying or puking? I want to kick things, and throw things.

Honestly, I want to rip this girls face off with my fingernails.
For those of you who don't want to read the full article, I'll sum it up. A 15 year old allowed some men to pay her so that they could have sex with her 7 year old sister. And she watched.

I almost thought it was an unfunny April Fools joke. Distasteful, but also so unbelievable that you just roll your eyes, instead of getting all up in arms.

I didn't recognize the website that the original article I saw was on, so I ran a quick search on google. I still was under the impression that it was a prank. I wanted to hear what people's reactions were. Instead of funny reactions, I found a bunch of news results. It's real. I nearly vomited.

I'm scared on a thousand levels. For one thing, how can someone actually want to have sex with a 7 year old? Pedophiles are the stuff of horror movies. I know that there are weirdos out there who do, and I even know someone who was a victim of something like that. But still, every time I hear something like this, it becomes more real. No matter how real it gets, it doesn't make sense.

But you know, the thing that gets me the most is the sister. Maybe, for me, it's a little easier to swallow it when the bad guys are strangers. The rapists are awful, but at least they aren't supposed to be protecting the little girl. The age difference between the girls is the same as me and Lauren. I would do ANYTHING to protect her. And if I couldn't protect her, I certainly wouldn't ENCOURAGE someone to do bad things to her. I wouldn't accept MONEY from it. How can someone who has been seeing this girl since she was a baby be so callous? How can someone let something bad happen to their baby sister?

It sickens me in ways that I cant even put words to.

Creation

2010-04-01T11:47:00.002-04:00

Spring is such a great time of year for creating. I just changed a huge part of my book, because I realized it wasn't a hugely important part, and my characters were far too focused on it. I realized I needed to re-write the last few pages, because the story was feeling really rushed. I realized that I absolutely love the way its coming out, besides that rushed section.

Remember when I said I wasn't sure if I was making progress? Well, in the past few days I've written 500 brand new words. I've re-written 3 scenes so far, and even though I cut a lot out, that part is about 1000 words longer than it was before, too. I'm going to call it progress.

I had fallen into the "telling, not showing" trap. I fixed that mess up a lot.

I've been doing other kinds of creating too. I recently designed the layout and photshopped a banner for a friend's blog. I'm thinking about re-doing my own blog from scratch too. Maybe not. I am sorta in love with this layout. Maybe I'll take on a big project and do a desktop background for myself. Or maybe not.

I've started DRAWING again. I'm not the best with a pencil, but it's nice. The only thing I'm even moderately good at are people. Faces, actually. I can't draw bodies at all. But I can sketch a decent portrait, and I'm enjoying it.

I've been dying to get my hands on some beads, wire, and various other jewelry-making things. Somehow, my sisters managed to steal all that stuff before I moved, and now I have nothing. I want to get back into that.

This creative energy makes me feel SO good. And each time I do something nice, I get all happy. This happens every spring, but I can never get sick of this rush. :D

Mall Parents, a letter

2010-03-31T11:56:00.002-04:00

Dear Mall Mothers and Fathers,
I have been told that I have no right to judge parents, because I am not a parent myself. But I do. I can’t help it. Some of the things I see you do seem so wrong to me. I’ve seen actions that make me want to throw things at you. I’ve overheard conversations that make my stomach turn. Maybe it’s not my place, and not my right, to tell you that you’re wrong. But I’m going to anyways, even if you never see it.

When your small child drops a single french fry, screaming at them and smacking them isn’t acceptable behavior. That’s a huge overreaction. It was ONE french fry. If you react that strongly over something so small, I’d hate to see what you do when they do something seriously wrong. If you are that crazy in public, I’d hate to see how you act in private.

When your 15 year old daughter buys a phone, you should not smash it, just because you don’t like the ring tone. I know that ring tone. It was the default tone. And from the shouting match that followed, I am even more certain you were being unreasonable. Your young teenage daughter pays you rent, buys her own food, buys her own clothes, and pays her own phone bill. She saved up for apparently 3 months to buy that phone. I was on her side when she demanded you buy her a new one. But you called her greedy, got up, and walked away from her. No, She shouldn't have yelled at you. You are the parent, and that's really disrespectful. But I think I know where she learned that from....

When you are in the mall, you need to keep an eye on your toddler. It should nto be up to a stranger to save your child from walking into a busy parking lot. And when someone DOES stop your child from walking in front of a car, you shouldn’t yell at the ‘rescuer’ because it’s “inappropriate” to touch other peoples children.

When your son is walking calmly by your side, on his kid-leash, you shouldn’t suddenly
grab the leash close to him and yank. He will fall down. And when he does fall, and when he starts crying, you shouldn’t laugh and say to your friend “I love this thing!” You just HURT your CHILD who wasn’t doing anything WRONG. And you are LAUGHING about it? I almost thought I had imagined it.

You shouldn’t insult your child by calling them fat and a cow, and a slob, and then buy them ice cream to ‘cheer them up’ when they start crying. That isn’t how things work.

You shouldn’t scream at your newborn to “shut the fuck up” when they cry. I know that sometimes it’s tough, when you haven’t gotten much sleep. But if you haven’t slept, why are you at the mall anyways? There isn’t anything that needs buying here. Just clothes. I can’t imagine a situation where clothing takes priority over sleep. Maybe I am being unreasonable on this one. I’ll admit that.

And then today’s event. Your daughter, looked to be about 3 or 4, was happy. Twirling around, giggling. And I looked up at you, parent, and smiled. She was adorable. For once, I was proud of a mall-family.

Up until the point where you came over to my table and threatened to call security over because I was being threatening and creepy. Up until you pulled your daughter aside, pointed to me and told her that I was the reason she shouldn’t talk to strangers.

Don’t get me wrong, I think that’s a great thing to teach your kids. But to personally target me as the “threatening stranger” because your daughter happen to dance directly in my line of sight? That’s ridiculous, and also insulting. If you don’t want people to acknowledge your daughters existence, don’t bring her out of the house.

Signed, Boat
The non-parent who is concerned for your children.

NO BATHROOM IN MY BATHROOM!

2010-03-30T07:57:00.002-04:00

Yesterday was crazy, up and down. I wrote lots of half blog posts, and then I came home, and realized that my bathroom had no bathroom inside.

Apparently, at around 1pm my landlord decided that they wanted to replace the floor in my bathroom. Apparently my toilet had been leaking underneath the linoleum and it was rotten. How they figured that out, I don't know. But it was true. So they took out the toilet, soaking my bathroom (again!) and getting sewage on some of the laundry that I had left in there. I guess this is why hampers were invented. Jeffrey was home for about 5 minutes but had to rush off to a meeting. They didn't talk to him, or even let him get the clothes out of the bathroom.

The maintenance men leave at 5pm. So does the landlord. We got home at about 5:15 to find the bathroom door in the living room, the toilet in the bathtub, dirty clothes in the sink. A dirty bathmat on the living room floor. And no note. And nothing covering the toilet drain. You ALWAYS cover the toilet hole. I learned that when I was about 8 years old. If you don't cover it you house will fill up with methane.

Not. Cool. I thought "maybe they went out to get a new wax ring for the toilet," my dad said "maybe they took a dinner break." We called the emergency maintenance line (no one answers the regular line after 5) and got no answer. It becomes 6pm. Then almost 7. We decided to go out. Somewhere with public bathrooms, since we couldn't use one at home. Fast food. Wal-mart. 9pm the maintenance people FINALLY call us back. What if it had been a REAL emergency? They told us they'd pay for a hotel. It was late. We decided not to bother.

It sucks that we have no toilet and no bathtub. I do not approve.

On the bright side, yesterday my new ipod came in the mail. And so did the new sim card for my cell phone. YAY!

Manners, Etiquette and All Things Proper

2010-03-29T17:18:00.003-04:00

When I started this blog, it was because I needed a place where I could vent, and ask for help, without having to force my problems on someone else. A place where I wasn't directly addressing one individual and putting them on the spot. I did that because I felt like directly asking was impolite, invasive, and demanding.

And then just now I realized that I have started 4 separate posts and not posted because I didn't think it was acceptable to post more than one blog a day. I thought that made me appear desperate, and boring, and that no one would read if I did that. This is not the first time I've avoided putting up posts because I don't want to be invasive. I must be crazy. This place is my release. A personal blog. Personal meaning that I shouldn't care what's right. I should just say what I need to say. It's not a professional blog, and doesn't have to follow any rules.

One attempted-post was about how much I miss my dad. I never really talked much about him. Being far away from him has put a bit of distance between us and I dont like it. He doesn't like to talk on the phone, he doesn't like sending long emails. I don't think he's gotten a letter in years and if he got one from me he'd probably think I've lost it. So I don't talk to him much. And that really, really sucks. He's been the one who told me I could be a writer if I wanted, and not just in the "you can do anything" mindlessly encouraging way. He said it in the "Look closely at it. Explore it, do your research. Write your book. Look at other jobs in the business. Make sure you want it, but if you do, then go for it. You can do anything, but it takes hard work" sort of way. The kind that made me REALLY look and be sure. I know what I want.

He's done that my whole life. With everything. When I was little he would take me to toys R us and tell me I can get any toy, or as many toys as I wanted as long as they were under some set price. He told me to think carefully. What did I REALLY want? What would I play with the most? These outings weren't often, but they were good lessons.

And I miss him. It's so hard to talk to him from here. I can't wait to see him again. There are things about him that drive me crazy, for example, he's REALLY repetitive. He once told me 15 times in 5 minutes that there were peaches in the fridge and I should help myself. "There are peaches in the fridge. Help yourself to them..... And are you hungry? we've got peaches. .... On the bottom shelf of the fridge are some peaches." Thanks Dad.

The other attempted posts may or may not make an appearance here. I don't really feel them anymore. We'll see.

Progress?

2010-03-29T07:30:00.006-04:00

I do not know if I'm making any progress with my book. I've done most of an EXTREMELY rough first draft. I'm on the second draft now, but I'm only at a little more than 6,000 words. I've been at 6,000 for weeks.

But I haven't stagnated. I haven't stopped writing it. I just, can NOT get myself to stop re-writing. I tell myself that I can do another draft after this one, and yet still I find myself waking up at 6 in the morning and re-writing the opening.

It's getting stronger all over, but it's still now actually growing. Part of me is proud of what it is becoming, but another part of me is disappointed, because its so far from done and I'm focusing on silly things.

This is the time of year I do the most writing, so why isn't this going anywhere? Or maybe it is going somewhere. Maybe this constant re-writing of scenes is a good thing. I don't really know.

Chaos Solidified

2010-03-26T21:05:00.002-04:00

Why is it that EVERY time my mother has potentially important news she waits until just before she has to hang up to mention it? I called her at about 8:40. She had to leave at 9, to pick my sister up by 9:15. She waited until 9:57 to drop some vague hint at bad news.

Okay maybe I'm over reacting. Like I said, she was vague.

That's a pet peeve of mine. Vagueness. Say what you mean or say nothing.

So the conversation went like this. (M=mom, E=Erin/me)

M: I spent last night in the hospital.
E: Why what happened?
M: Sometimes when I eat the food goes down just fine. Not a problem. Other times it makes me gag. Sometimes I throw up. Even drinks make me gag. But it's fixable.
E: Oh good.
M: They're going to wait a few weeks and if it fixes itself, but if it doesn't I'm going to need throat surgery.
E: Oh.....
M: So if I call you frantic sometime, now you know what's going on. I'm going to need a lot of support if it's something scary.
E: Call me anytime. I'll try to help however I can, but you didn't explain much.
M: I know. I have to go pick up your sister. I'll call you tomorrow. Bye!

Just when things had started to settle down somewhat, this happens. It's a never ending cycle. My family is made of chaos. At least this is..... normal. Not normal-normal, but medical issues are at least mostly beyond our control. Every family has to deal with medical issues.

But why didn't she tell me what was wrong? Her words "if it's something scary" make it seems like she doesn't know what's wrong, but if she doesn't know, how can she know that the cure will be surgery?

Am I stressing needlessly? Probably. But I will spend my night googling reasons for an overactive gag reflex.

A Dream

2010-03-26T18:10:00.002-04:00

Last night I had a dream that both amused and frightened me.

I didn't see the dream through my own eyes. It was watching a movie about myself. I was a published author, elementary school teacher, and mother.

The dream started in my sons Kindergarten classroom. It was show and tell day, and the kids all sat in a circle on the floor. The teacher sat on a bean bag chair, and beside her was another been bag chair. A little boy named Jimmy was finishing his turn, and my son was next. (For some reason, everyone in the dream except my son had a name) Jimmy went and sat in the circle. My son got up and sat in the bean bag and held up a book. The cover was blueish and had grey writing across the top that said Erin Bohte.

"My mommy's a writer and she wrote this book!" my son said with big wide eyes. He held the book out at arms length, between his two hands. It looks silly and large in his small hands. Perhaps that was just distortion from the dream.

Jimmy, the little boy who had been before my son, stood up. "Your mom doesn't write books! She's just a teacher! That's not her name!"

"It's a pseudonym!" my son shouted back.

A little girl gasped. "That's a bad word!" and she slapped her hand over her mouth.

The kids all looked up to the teacher, who pursed her lips in a smile, as if she were trying not to laugh. After a moment she shook her head, and got up

The dream then shifts to outside my sons classroom. Instead I'm watching myself in my own classroom. The phone on the teachers desk rings, and I go over to pick it up. On the other end is my sons teacher. She wants me to take him home. She talked to the principal and they decided to suspend him.The school doesn't tolerate things like that.

"What did he do?" I ask.
"He used the word pseudonym."
"But that's not a bad word."
"Well he's a kindergartner."
"I'm sorry, Ms. Burke," I say "I'm not sure what you're getting at."
"Well you see, the other kids think that he insulted them."
"Then explain to them that he didn't. Pseudonym is just another word for pen name."
"I know what it is. But the children do not. Even if he didn't mean to insult them, he did. At the very least he insulted their intelligence by using such a big word."
"You're suspending my kid for being smart."
"No no. We're suspending him for insulting his classmates."
"Well why do I have to take him home? Can't he take the unicorn?"
"Does he know how to ride it?"
"He sure does."
"Maybe he should be in 8th grade."

And from there the dream dissolved into nonsense. I think my son DID end up riding a unicorn home.

I'm tickled by the idea of being a writer/teacher/mother. Even more if my kids are proud of my books. I think the idea of kids riding home on a unicorn is pretty amazing.

The thought of a child being suspended for being smart is frightening though. I remember getting told off for things like that in early grades, but I don't think I was ever actually punished for it.

Anyways, thought you might find the dream a little interesting. I sure did.

Getting in Shape

2010-03-25T12:54:00.003-04:00

Most of the time, if I mention getting back in shape, someone says "But you look fine!" or else "But you're tiny!" Let me explain to you that being in shape and being thin are NOT the same. Take a look are some sports players for example. Pitchers, in baseball, often have a bit of a gut on them. That certainly doesn't mean they're out of shape. It means they have a belly. Football players are quite large, and in great shape. I am thin, and NOT in good shape.

I get winded when I walk up the stairs. That's NOT healthy. That's NOT being in good shape. I don't like it.

It's my fault. I had a ton of excuses for not doing anything. I moved to a new area, and wasn't comfortable going anywhere by myself. I have bad knees. I have housework to do. No matter what day or time it was, I had a reason to not excercise. The only one that is truely valid is the fact that I do have bad knees. But you know what? I've had bad knees since I was 13. I've only been in truly bad shape for about a year.

So I'm getting back in shape. And I'm happy about it. I'm taking up jogging. Running has always been an issue with me. Of all things, that is the one that causes the most knee pain, and swelling. I say fuck it. Jogging is supposed to be good for the heart right? Well my heart has been screwy for years, with no doctors paying attention. Maybe I'll fix it for real. So yes, I'm going to be jogging with knees that hurt the more I use them. If I am in pain, I'll take a break. When the pain goes away, I'll start back up again. I'm not giving up.

I'm excited. A little nervous, but excited. It's spring. It's a great time for jogging. Someone suggested I do the Couch-to-5K plan and that looks like its doable. I hope. I am starting today.

Also, I need to buy something a little more comfortable to run in. Jeans just don't quite cut it. I love new clothes, and having an excuse to buy them. :D

St. Albans

2010-03-24T14:35:00.000-04:00

So my internet has been a bit spazzy lately, which in Boatkickerland means its been broken more than its been working. Thanks Verizon! I really appreciate all the times you’ve stood us up, and I just love that we’re paying for a service that works LESS THAN HALF THE TIME! It’s great!

Okay. All done being bitter. Mostly because I’m not home right now, and the internet here at the mall is just fine. It’s hard to be angry at non-working-internet when you have great internet.

Jeffrey invited me to go to one of his classes with him yesterday, because they were having a medium come in. The class was Religion and Death, incase anyone was wondering.

Anyways, I thought it was pretty cool. Some of the stuff the medium said was really interesting. Other parts, in my opinion, were total crap. Do I think spirits might be hanging around any given place at any given time, sure. I’m cool with that. Do I think scribbling on the mirror is going to call evil spirits into my home? Nope, that seems ridiculous. And unlikely, considering how many scribbles have been all over my own mirrors over time. If random marks called evil sprits in, I’d have had a lot more problems to deal with in my life.

Oh. Wait. Maybe that explains everything. Hahaha.

The medium (I’ve forgotten his name. Woops.) mentioned this place near here called St. Albans. Apparently it used to be a mental hospital and before that it was a boys school. The building is, as far as I know, standing empty right now. Local legend says its haunted. The medium described a room that is covered in papers with kids hand prints all over, finger-paint style. He said he was creepy. A student in the class confirmed that it was a creepy room, and mentioned some hallway that “seemed out of place” in the building. The medium then told a story about how he met with the spirit of a former student in the attic/bedroom area and the boy was looking for his mother and playing on a dumbwaiter.

Does this sound like an awesome setting for a book? For some reason, despite all the medium said, and the supposed “Creepiness” of the hand print room, it doesn’t feel like a horror story to me. Of course I’d have to go there myself to be sure, but Jeffrey said he might take me there. I think that would be totally awesome. I’d love to see the hand print room. The whole place seems like it would be interesting. I plan on doing a little research on the place sometime this evening. I tried to last night, but the internet was down. This place had definitely sparked my interest. I have a thing for old buildings. :)