A New Leaf

It's been a year and a half since I posted on this blog, but not for lack of caring, or lack of wanting to. I still want to blog. I'm now going to be blogging again.

Before I stopped posting, I was posting less and less, and less. I can't pinpoint exactly when it started because it wasn't a sudden thing, it wasn't a certain moment. It happened slowly. Bit by bit, I stopped.... stopped everything. I stopped writing, I stopped reading, I stopped cooking, I stopped caring about school, but most importantly, I stopped loving, and I nearly stopped caring.

This blog was one of the first things to go, because no one who read it would hold me accountable. No one would send me a concerned email, and I knew that. Then I stopped writing entire. It was a solitary activity. No one would notice. Slowly, I began to hate myself, and stopped doing things that  made me happy. I knew I didn't deserve to be happy. I knew I didn't deserve to waste my time on frivolous activities that weren't actually productive. I withdrew from my family, from my friends, even though I was having really intense social cravings. I wanted friends more than anything in the world, but I pushed away the ones I had, and I couldn't make new ones - I didn't deserve it, I didn't need it, I'm socially awkward, I get anxious in social situations: I had every excuse in the book playing through my head, constantly.


I still cared for everyone, in my heart, but in my actions, I may as well have been a stranger, or worse. I was even driving a wedge between Jeffrey and I. We started arguing. I was nasty towards him. I'd say mean things, try to get him angry with me, provoke him until finally, he would get angry, and then, when I realized I hurt him, I would shatter. I'd cry, and I'd revert back to the tiny child I had once been. I would crawl into the smallest, darkest corner of the room and isolate myself to get myself under control. He, knowing that small corners are my safe-spaces, would get concerned - Had he hurt me that badly? - and he'd crawl into the closet or under the desk alongside me, and rock me, and let me know he wasn't going anywhere. He'd tell me he loved me, apologize for his part in the argument, apologize for upsetting me.

We argued a while back, a couple weeks ago, I can't remember over what, but I remember trying to think of something to say to make him angry, and I remember realizing, all of a sudden, what I was doing. I hadn't been doing it on purpose, and suddenly I was aware. The whole argument is a blur now, besides that one tiny moment, but I ended up opening up a whole lot that day to Jeffrey. There were a lot of tears and I crawled up under my desk twice, but both times I crawled out on my own, and I made a decision. I know it's February, a little late for New Year's Resolutions, but I'm making one anyways.

I am going to spend this year getting myself back. I'm not going to push people out. I'm not going to be mean to the people I love most, and I'm going to get back to taking care of myself, and my mental health.

When I was in high school, I did my nails every day. I shaped them, I buffed and polished them, and I painted them. Every day, I did my nails. I didn't do it because I like having nice nails (although I do like that too). I did it because I found going through those motions to be very theraputic. But for over a year after I moved out (the second time) I didn't even own a single one of my nail supplies. No buffer, no nail file, no nail polish. I mentioned that to a friend a few days ago, when I was just getting back to painting my nails, and she said "Wow. I don't even know what your hands would look like if they weren't done. I can't picture it."

So this is me, turning over my new leaf. I'm going to get back to being the person I like being, rather than someone I hate. I'm going to be me again.

Pure Bliss (FloydFest X)

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.

End of an Era

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

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.

Dreams, and School, and other thoughts.

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.

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"

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.

I just did the math...

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.

Wonders Never Cease- You're 6 Months Old!

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.

Apparently, this is about Harry Potter

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.

Big Things.

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.

My Apartment

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

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.)

Ready For The Count Down?

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

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!

Hips and Hopping

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

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.

Ghosts

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

Creation

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

Getting in Shape

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