I Am Not A Pretty Girl

The first time I heard the lyrics to Ani Difranco's "I Am Not A Pretty Girl", I remember thinking to myself, damn, that's me. It in no way contributes to my history of having a low self esteem. It in fact, has the very opposite affect.
If you have never heard it, and have even a smidgen of feminist pride/stubbornness in your body, I highly recommend downloading it from iTunes ASAP. If you don't want to buy it, at least take the time to read the lyrics here:http://www.metrolyrics.com/not-a-pretty-girl-lyrics-ani-difranco.html
I have often struggled with being the odd girl in the room. However in being so, I have always blended in the background, merely invisible. I actually prefer this. It makes me feel as though I'm a character in a Harry Potter book, wearing my invisibility cloak so as to be able to meander and observe my surroundings without the bother of someone else stopping to notice me.
My husband would disagree that I harbor the trait of being invisible, but he's biased so his opinion doesn't count.
I'm a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl. Throw me a pair of converse over heels any day. I never learned how to really apply make-up, so when I do actually wear it, I struggle with whether or not I'm doing it correctly. I don't know my true bra size...in fact, I often go without one, just because I can.
Growing up, and even now, I was much more comfortable around boys than girls because boys never challenged me in a way that hurt my self esteem; until I got older and one after another, they stood in line to break my heart over and over again. This being said, their genetic make-up is still much less cruel than that of a teenage girls'.
When boys did start taking notice, I was oblivious to the fact. Once it was brought to my attention, I would become obsessed with said boy just because he took the time out of his day to tell someone else he thought I was pretty. 
Obsession apparently draws the boys away instead of towards you.
Suddenly, I felt as though I couldn't fit in anywhere, even with the friends I grew up with. I took every comment to heart, only hearing the negatives, "you're ugly, you're chubby, you're immature....you're too sensitive". I heard it all....and I still hear their words on days that I'm struggling with my overall outward appearance.
The truth is, I am not a pretty girl. "That is not what I do". And no matter how much words said have hurt my feelings, they haven't been able to stop me from being who I am; dressing how I want and simply blending into the crowd. I have never wanted to be rescued or saved. Every girl has moments when they want their prince charming to stand with a boom box outside of her window and call out her name. I'm not denying the fact that I too fantasized of this at one time.
The fact is that I'm too stubborn to accept such hospitality.
"I am not a kitten, stuck up in a tree somewhere."
Over the years, one might say I became slightly jaded when a boy actually noticed me. I chalked it up to him somehow having some secret agenda, wanting to break me and my battered heart in any moment of weakness. I was never able to accept the concept that instead of me always breaking my neck to try to help a guy to "become the very best person he could be", that he might indeed be trying to do the same thing for me.
But it was never about me. It was always about them and how they were feeling. I spent so much of my time trying to fix everything that was wrong that I didn't even realize until almost too late that I was slightly broken myself. I became so frustrated in my lack of results in trying to help. No one ever listened to what I had to say because I was honest with them and said what needed to be said.
"I am not an angry girl. But it seems, I've got everyone fooled. Every time they find something that's hard to hear, they chalk it up to my anger and never to their own fear."
It was no one's fault but my own.
In all honesty, before Andrew, I never felt the balance of two people simply being there for one another no matter how they are feeling. Before Andrew, I was always the "strong one", having to hold  both myself and the other person up during the hard times. I didn't realize that a relationship should be based on equality and each person being there for the other in every time of need, even if that meant giving up some of yourself to make ends meet.
I gave up so much of myself that I lost my identity.
I lost me.
The truth of the matter is I always strayed towards the slightly "broken" individuals, wanting so desperately to change them for the better; craving that sense of accomplishment in helping someone through a rough time and making a difference.
I never thought twice that I was the one looking for "damsels in distress" so to speak.
It was exhausting.
And suddenly, I did want to be the prettiest girl in the room, just once. It just seemed easier.
But that's not who I am. I'm the girl who shows up to work with no make-up and wet hair thrown up in a bun. I feel awkward when I dress up; almost like I'm at a costume party and no one else decided to participate. I have my own sense of style that is unique and I'm happy with that.
But I'd be lying if I said I didn't have moments when I wish I were more like everyone else or even like the girl who just stands out from the rest or turns a head or two when she walks by.
In the long run, I prefer to be the outsider. That's who I am and I can't deny this fact. At least now, I am able to find some comfort in being the person I have become and strive to be, not trying to pretend to be someone or something I'm not. I think we all possess the  ability to save our own skins. Sure, we might have some help along the way, but it's ourselves that decide to stay a certain way because we want to or to change because we feel we have to.
I never wanted to be saved. I never felt the need to be saved even in my darkest times.
I taught myself a lesson in that most of us feel this way. As much as I wanted or felt the need to help any given individual, the truth is, if he didn't want to be helped in the first place, I was really just wasting my time. I don't necessarily see this as a defeat, though at times it does feel that way. I guess it's a good thing that I realized before it was too late that should the situation(s) have been reversed, none of these people that I tried to "save" would have done the same for me. In knowing that, it's much easier to let go and to accept that I was never meant to save them anyway.

"And what if there are no damsels in distress. What if I knew that and I called your bluff. Don't you think every kitten figures out how to get down, whether or not you ever show up?"
-Ani Difranco

Weekly Gratitude Update: 8/27/12-9/16/2012

Wow! I am such a slacker!
I haven't written a weekly gratitude update in 2 weeks! (Or is it 3?)...
This is how behind I am. I don't even know how long it's been. This being said, it in no way means that I am any less grateful. I've just been lazy and having a hard time getting all of my thoughts together.
I'm lost in one of the many moments in my life where my thoughts are so scrambled, roaming from one topic to the other with no common boundary between them.
I am Lorelai Gilmore.
Just to give you an idea, here is an actual rambling thought moment of Mary Will:
Now I'm thinking of monkey monkey underpants because I thought of Lorelai Gilmore, and now I'm wondering if I should use punctuation within the ramblings of this blurb. I'm thinking it doesn't really matter because my brain doesn't really speak in sentences, just long run-ons about what I need to be doing, or hope to accomplish today or this week or this month. We should really order our wedding album. It's been over 2 years and I'd like to have something concrete to show off because we love pictures so much. Oh my goodness, we have so many pictures. I should make albums of everything. Why are the cats meowing? It's only 9:30 and they don't get fed until 11...or is it 10? I forget since I'm not usually home during this time of day and Andrew takes care of them in the mornings. Awe. Andrew. He's so awesome. I love that he can now work from home and look after the pets. I wish I could work from home and write all day. I guess that's the goal in writing this book...of which I haven't really worked on in weeks. I should really be working on my book. I looked through several old writings of mine the other day and am currently trying to incorporate them somehow within the chapters of my memoir. Why do I smell cat pee? Did someone pee on the couch again? Mmmm. Muffins. I would love a cranberry orange muffin from Pannera (Does Panera have 2 'n's or 1?) and a pumpkin spiced late from Starbucks. I used to never drink Starbucks because of the whole big corporations thing. But when so many closed down and so many people lost their jobs, I felt bad for them and the only way I could think of showing my support is via drinking an occasional coffee from the remaining establishments. I wish I could still eat marshmallows. Damn gelatin. It's so sad. I used to live off of marshmallows, bagels and Twizzlers when I was in college. This of course was when I was anorexic and would work out in front of a mirror, noting each and everyone of my flaws, making a mental list of everything I would love to change about myself. Those were dark times Harry, dark times. Awe. Harry Potter. I could watch any one of those movies every single day for the rest of my life and still want more. It's such a great story. Ohhhh! We have a new Doctor Who episode DVR'd! I can't wait to watch it! Dinosaurs on a spaceship! That was last week. Hee hee. Matt Smith makes me chuckle. Seriously Dip, how can you be hungry? You'd think that we starve you guys. I love fall. We have been keeping the door open to our screened in porch and the subtle breeze coming through this particular morning is very refreshing, which reminds me, my feet are cold and I should probably put some socks on and do some laundry......

Welcome to my world. It's a scary, yet fun, place to live in....

Now for what I'm grateful for the past 2 (or 3?) weeks:

1) We went on our yearly beach trip the weekend of labor day. Lots of fun was had with the family. Favorite moments of the trip: Driving and listening to good tunes with Andrew, Dropping off Leira at his parent's house and getting to see our nephew Thomas, Peach Margarita at the Mexican restaurant we always eat at, the meal at the Mexican restaurant, sitting by the pool, finishing my book, walking on the beach, great conversation with everyone, playing games, watching Fresh Prince of Bel air.... (Just to name a few:)

2) On the way back from the beach, we stopped by my old work and I got to see a lot of my old co-workers. I felt very loved and missed and grateful to have been a part of such a wonderful group of people.

3) My 10 day work stretch went by very fast this time. I've been trying to keep in mind all of the positives in my life and it has helped when the going gets tough.

4) I have gotten a few compliments from clients at work. This always makes for a good day.

5) Apple festival in Hendersonville. I always forget how big Hendersonville is. I mean, it's not New York obviously, but it's always a lot bigger and more maintained than I think it's going to be. It was a very cute festival outside of the random, creepy clown walking around.

6) Fall is almost here!!! I LOVE this time of year! Great weather, beautiful scenery, fantastic t.v. shows, snugly blankets, outside fires, colorful leaves, warm drinks, Halloween, pumpkin spice, beginning of Hoiday fun...I could go on and on and on.

7) Andrew and I stayed up until 2:30 the other morning talking about everything from Religion to childhood memories. We listened to several Pandora stations and found one with old show tunes from musicals and Disney movies we both grew up listening to and watching. We danced around and sang dramatically to one another, acting silly and just being ourselves. I'm so lucky to have married my best friend.

8) I have come up with several crafty-like projects that I'm hoping to accomplish by the end of the year. I usually get discouraged and try to do too much at once, finally relinquishing whatever small effort I've made towards said project. I'm determined to stick with it though and to somehow get something artistic and creative out of it. We'll see.

9) The pets have been extra snugly and clingy with the oncoming cooler weather. I have woken up several mornings with at least 4-5 of our 6 pets strategically placed around me and Andrew.

10) We're planning to have lots of people come visit in the coming months and I'm so looking forward to seeing and spending time with everyone. I just love this time of year, filled with family and friends. I am so very fortunate for everyone and everything in my life. Thank you all for making it that much greater.

Love, hugs and peace.

The Hunger Games

 

Sobes dropped from a parachute before entering the games.

                                             "Look! I have Katniss Everdeen hair!"

                                                                            

                           Peeta pays tribute to District 12 with a smile on his face and a plan up his sleeve.

                                                                                

                                              The tributes from district 1 have been spotted
                                                                

                                                       "Er. They would totally kick our asses."

                                  Peeta takes time to pick up a Mocking Jay feather in honor of Rue.

                                                                       

                                   No time to remorse, the tracker jackers are after Katniss! "Oh no!"

"Seriously Peeta, I just got stung and have no motor skills and all you can do is stand there and enjoy this beautiful view!?!?"

                                                    
"It is rather lovely. Too bad I can't keep my balance in order for you to take a decent picture of me."

                                                                             

"Oh no! Peeta's deeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaad!"

 

 "No he's not! There he is! Paying tribute again. He's so damn honorable."

                                                                             

"Look over there More tributes."

                                         "Should we shoot them?" (Wait...that's Burn Notice...)

                                

                                                               
                                                               "You call that a kiss?!?!"

                                                                               "That's better!"

                                                                              "Yay! We won!"

                 
"Happy hunger games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"
Effie Trinket

                                                                      

 

                                                   

                                             

                                                  
                                                   

Bowties Have Always Been Cool

You never forget your first Doctor.

Mine was Tom Baker. I remember so vividly laughing hysterically each time his 6 foot scarf would get caught in the doors of the tardis as it began to disappear making its warooo waroo sound.

Perhaps I lost you at Tom Baker.

Let me back track a bit.

Most kids my age; that is those who spent ages 0-9 in the 80’s, spent their Saturday mornings watching cartoons. Don’t get me wrong, I had my share of Punky Brewster, Mr. Rogers and My Little Pony episodes, but my brother and I grew up mainly to the viewings of old science fiction movies, Rogers and Hammerstein musicals, (I had every song from The Sound of Music memorized by age 6), old Hammer Horror films and one of my all time personal favorites, Doctor Who.

I was too young to really take in the stories of each episode but what I do remember most is sitting on the couch between my brother and my daddy, awaiting the classic music that marked the beginning of a new episode.

My dad video taped every episode that aired, old and new. This was before the time of dvd, dvr, blueray, ect. Back then, we had what were called VCRs and my dad would meticulously cut the commercials, magically knowing when the show was going to break. This was a rare talent indeed and something my brother Pat and I have always admired in him.

He worked nights so he would sleep during the day. Pat and I would often sneak into his comic book closet full of hidden treasures, knowing where he hid the key and that he easily slept through anything. (We soon learned that this was also a good time to ask him for anything. 9 times out of 10, he would say yes in his sleepless stupor.)
Among his painted monster figurines, comics and novels was a shelf designated only for Doctor Who tapes, all in chronological order. We would select a small few and spend the entire day watching episode after episode while building forts out of couch cushions and rolling around on the floor with the left over popcorn kernels from our afternoon snacks.

We then would re-create the scenes via running around outside, building fake bombs that we had only mere seconds to get away from before them blowing us to pieces. I was always the doctor’s companion (Ace was my favorite) and Pat would reluctantly play the Doctor. (He always wanted to be the evil/crazy timelord villain, The Master, but I would beg him not to because he scared me with his maniacal laughing.)

Maniacal laugh. Maniacal laugh.  

We would always be on a mission and “find” the bomb hidden in a secret tomb (our garage). The makings of it consisted of an old battery sitting on a chair from my play kitchen table and chairs set. Ironically, the bomb would detonate the moment we stepped into the garage, I mean tomb, and we would then have only 30 seconds to run from there to the hill at the end of our yard. We would dramatically run in slow motion, me singing at the top of my lungs “The hills are alive with the sound of music”. (I was dramatic, even as a small 6 year old...) We would then roll down the hill in a fit of giggles, ignoring all of the scrapes and bruises that were slowly forming on our skinny arms and legs.

We also had lasers.

These were the blue and orange elongated wheels off of one of Pat’s old toy trucks.

Lasers are cool. Never doubt the validity in that.

One could never deny our since of imagination inspired by new worlds, future settings, and dalek invasions. One minute we could be sitting in our living room in 1987, the next we were stuck in another dimension, trying to avoid catastrophe.

These are some of my fondest memories.

Thank you  Doctor Who for allowing my Daddy, brother and I to live along with you in your adventures. I know we will always remain being 3 of your most faithful companions who have followed you throughout the years.

"You can spend the rest of your life with me. But I can't spend the rest of mine with you. I have to live on, alone. That's the curse of the Timelords."

This Old Routine

I have a daily routine. I get out of bed, maneuvering around all of the pets and Andrew sporadically placed around the bed and use the bathroom (with the door open because my cat Lorelai is like a two year old and can't stand to have a door or wall between us). I then weigh myself with one eye closed, one eye open in hopes that the number has somehow dropped. I slip on my bedroom slippers or flip-flops, whichever one is closer and I go downstairs, turning on the lights in each room I pass through. Leira follows me around the kitchen while I get the keurig started and set the oven on 350 to heat up my croissant (sometimes a piece of toast). Leira and I then go outside, she pees and I act elated, clapping my hands and exclaiming "good girl!" because she does her happy run with her tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth each time I do this. (And let's be honest, nothing makes me happier than a happy Leira dog.) We come inside and I finish fixing both of our breakfasts. We then head upstairs where I check my Facebook, play a few words on words with friends and check my email. Leira then goes back to bed and I shower and get ready for work. I go to work, wash dirty dishes, get exam rooms set up for the day and restock drawers. My co-workers and I then take turns getting histories on patients and performing routine veterinary procedures. Some days I have a dental to do or a surgery to monitor. I sometimes don't get a lunch but when I do, I sit in my car, read my book or take a nap. Once my hour is up, I head back to work and do the same routine over and over again. I come home, hug Andrew, ask how his day was, say hello to the pets, change out of my work clothes and then make dinner or order a pizza. We eat on the couch in the living room and watch t.v. Sometimes we go for a walk. I then go to bed and read and/or fall asleep.

I might come home from work with a different bruise here and there but essentially, every day is the same. I've found that I spend a lot of my "extra" time on Facebook, checking out people's status or looking at their pictures. I get so caught up in their lives that I don't even realize the time I am spending away from my own. It's so easy to escape into the world of pinterest and amazon.com that I forget that I have goals that need to be met and dreams that need to be lived.

It's almost like I'm running away from myself.

It's easier these days to send a text or an email to our loved ones. I used to write letters to my grandmother when she was still alive. We would correspond back and forth and send pictures to each other of our pets. When I was in college, I barely ever wrote an email. I spent a lot of my time writing real letters to friends and family across the miles, explaining each detail of my life to them one page at a time.

I miss the feeling of opening the mailbox to find that I have a letter with my name and address written in the center  of an envelope that holds pages of words to be read that are meant only for me.The world has become too quick. An email is delivered within seconds whereas a letter can take days to arrive. There is no longer any suspense; no excitement. The social network allows us to post and comment on pictures instantly. Digital cameras help you to relive the memories you just made merely seconds later. These aren't necessarily bad inventions. I myself post a new set of pictures often, usually weekly. It's amazing how quickly I share snapshots of my life with 416 people of whom most I haven't spoken a real word to in years.

I sometimes miss the life I had before I ever got involved in the whole social network phenomenon. I don't know what it is that sucks me in every day. I almost become zombie-like and end up running late for work because I let the time get away from me. I feel safe and secure without feeling safe and secure. There is always some prickling feeling nagging at me and I think I finally figured out what it is.

I live in my favorite place in the entire world. The beauty I'm surrounded by on a daily basis is almost intimidating. Every time I visit downtown Asheville, I am presented with something or someone different; a girl dancing by herself on the sidewalk to music only she can hear, a guy painted in silver from head to toe including his guitar, middle school kids on the street singing Beatles' covers, skipping, frolicking, hoola hooping...all of the above can be seen at any given moment. Some people, maybe most, might pile this group of people into a list of "freaks". Not to me. To me, they are my heroes. They have lost the sense of caring what someone else might think of them should they want to start singing out loud as if they were in a musical or Broadway play. (In my ideal world, this would be how life should be anyway.) I somehow lack the sense of energy to just let go. The shy girl inside of me tells me I can't do it while the dreamy, hippie chick screams out to be set free to come out and play.

I find myself hiding behind the words I write on my status, always trying to think of something clever, positive or brilliant to say, even when I feel anything but clever, positive or brilliant. I use this very blog to speak out on feelings I've had or felt about  during my past, present or future...but I still hold back, somehow still unable to completely break free.

It's easy to use the social network as a mask to hide from the rest of the world. We're taught to use our inside voices and to act "normal", justifying each excuse not to be different or to break away from the group. Facebook gives us an excuse to act upon or say things that we wouldn't usually say in a real social setting. As usual, I find that I am in the minority in that I spend most of my time avoiding such confrontation. I hide more because I fear I might hurt someone's feelings should they not share my same opinion or that my own feelings might become hurt because I am so sensitive about every little thing. 

I'm tired of hiding. I'm tried of being scared; being held back. I'm tired of being my worst enemy and finding that it is only myself, and always has been myself, that keeps me from being the complete person I strive to be.

I need to break away from the routine.

Maybe tomorrow I'll eat a doughnut.

"This old routine will drive you mad
It's just a mumble never spoken out loud"
First Aid Kit

Weekly Gratitute Update: 8/20/12-8/26/12

This past week was much better than the previous one so there will be no rantings about my struggling to be positive and such. I have no complaints so I'll get right to it:

1) I made a new friend! I know I sound so rediculous and childish but it's so hard to meet new people when you move to a new town....even though I'm from here. A lot of my friends I had while growing up have moved to different areas themselves so it's not like we can just pick up where we left off. It's just nice to know that I still embrace the skills needed to make new friends. Yay me!

2) I got a sweet text from my sister Jenn (really my sister-in-law but she's like the sister I never had so I've decided to drop the whole "in-law" part). She was worried about me based on a post I had written on facebook about asking God to help me get through the week. Only she and one other friend (love you Sara!:) took the time out of their busy schedules to check in and it made me that much more grateful to the both of them.I love you both so much!

3) Wednesday's are usually my half days. Once a month I have to go back to the office to care for the boarders and clean but it's not so bad. This Wednesday was indeed my half day and I had great plans to clean our own house and get things done that had been put on the back burner for awhile. What did I get done you ask? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I sat on my ass and watched "Bones" on Netflix and then I think we ate frozen pizza for dinner. It was so nice to relax and do nothing. Of course I felt guilty later so I cleaned the house once I got home from work on Thursday. That being said, I discovered that there sometimes is time to take off and do nothing. You just have to make it for yourself. It's not always easy but after the previous week, I managed to find some time to do absolutely nothing.

4) I got home from work the other day and I finally met two of our neighbors; a daughter in her mid 50's and her little old lady Mother. They were the cutest mother-daughter pair I have ever seen and so very nice, offering to help us out if we ever need anything. I just wanted to put them in my pocket. Sometimes I forget that we now live in an actual neighborhood and have actual neighbors to "check in". I feel so domestic! I love it!!

5) My parents came over for dinner on Friday night. I used them as guinea pigs and made a new meal of mushroom stroganoff. Andrew gets freaked out by sour cream so I was worried about making this particular dish. Upon asking me what was in it, I just told him the same ingredients that are in beef stroganoff, substituting the beef with mushrooms. I had managed to keep the secret of there being sour cream in the dish until we sat down and Mom asked what else was in it besides mushrooms and sour cream? So close. I almost got away with it. He was a good sport though and ate a small helping. The rest of the evening was really nice outside of my mild freak-out when I asked Mom to test the temperature of the sauce and she told me it needed more salt. I know she meant well but my sensitivity and nervousness towards creating a new meal after working a 12 day stretch had apparently caught up to me. After dinner we sat on the couch, ate brownies and looked at old pictures. It was a lovely time.

6) Andrew and I went to Dupont State Park on Saturday. This is where one of the scenes in "The Hunger Games" was filmed. It. Was. Awesome! Oh yeah, and really beautiful too. He then took me out to The Laughing Seed (the best vegetarian restaurant in town...where it is rumored that alot of the cast from the movie ate as well). He owed me dinner since the purple couch at the chicken store is no longer there. (That's an entirely different story all together...let me know if you want to hear about it and it could be my next post!) I loved that purple couch....

7) I also discovered on Saturday that the fourth season of "Parks and Recreation" is now available for free on Amazon Prime. Score!! (We've already watched 7 episodes...)

8) My favorite-est pitbull in the whole wide world turned 9 years old on Thursday! Daisy Mae is my parent's dog but she mine as well be one of my own too. I love her so much!

9) Also, we found a pet sitter to take care of our critters when we go out of town and my parents aren't available. You have no idea how much pressure and concern this takes off of my shoulders. I usually spend much of our vacations worrying about the pets. It's nice to have someone we trust coming in to check in on them every day.  We had our Raleigh people and hadn't yet found an Asheville person. Now we have one. Whoohoo!

Well, that's about it. Nothing too crazy but sometimes that's a good thing:). I hope you all have a wonderful week full of love, peace and joy. Always remember, even in the worst times, there is always something to be grateful for, even if you have to dig a little deeper to find it. Sometimes, it's the digging that makes it all that more special.
Love, hugs and positivity to you all and once again, thank you for the support:).

You're So Vain

You  manipulate my dreams as though you were still here, standing right in front of me, threatening every bead of happiness within me.
It had been months since you had appeared and suddenly, there you are. I can feel my conscience willing myself to awaken in hopes that when I do, you will no longer be there when I close my eyes again to fall back into sleep.
Of course this never works. The memory of you is still too vivid to erase you so completely from my mind. During these sleepless nights, it's best to just get out of bed and get moving. This reminds me of how far I have come since you and the happiness that envelops me since I removed you from my life. 
But will you ever be really gone?
I strum songs on the guitar that you gave me, the only physical object I have kept from you these last 7 years. Has it really been 7 years? Sometimes, the pain seems so fresh... Every time I learn a new song that reminds me of you and the pain you embedded within me, I wish I could somehow let you hear so that I could see the look on your face once you realize the words being sung are mere representations of everything you put me through.
In reality, I know you wouldn't care. I'm not sure you ever have cared about anyone, including yourself.  It's amusing how Carly Simon's "You're So Vain" is a song you jokingly claimed to be about yourself, or rather someone like yourself, and you have no idea that this wouldn't be a compliment even if it were the truth.
"You had one eye on the mirror" always, if not both, so determined to drag everyone around you into the world that you created for yourself. I was tricked into believing that you needed me; that I could somehow help fix whatever past it was you were running away from .
I look back and have no idea what, if any, of the words you said were true.
I realize now that I was merely another victim, one of many; a girl with low enough self esteem to be taken in by your cries for help. Help you never truly wanted. 
The last time I spoke to you, (was it 4 years ago?), you asked me what it was that you had done to make me hate you so much. I didn't have an answer. I still don't. And I don't hate you. Hate is too strong of an emotion to feel towards a parasite like you. You're not worth it.
You never were and you never will be.
Do you realize how hard it is for me to give up? To admit that I have failed in a feat I spent 3 years of my life trying to remedy from all angles. I gave up so much during that time and almost lost it all because I believed in you that much.
Have you ever believed in anyone, even a little bit? Have you ever cared so much for someone elses happiness that you gave up dreams and experiences that you can never get back?
I guess not.
I consider myself a very empathetic person, but there is one personification I have no empathy for and that is not possessing the hope of wanting to be the best person one can be. I don't understand the need to always be unhappy.
I don't understand the need to drag someone else into your unhappiness just for the mere fact that you will no longer be alone should you succeed.
So I guess I have one thing, and one thing only to thank you for. I have no patience to be around people like that, like you, who thrive off of making someone else miserable because they're too scared to stand up to life and the unfairness of it all.
"I had dreams they were clouds in my coffee" and most of them broke free. I still struggle at times to remember the person I lost during those 3 years. The important factor in all of this is that I escaped.
I escaped.
I still worry about your other victims, past, present and future. I still care about their souls and hope that they are strong enough to realize what you are...and that they have the power within themselves to break free. Maybe I still have some hope left for you that one of these people can finish what I started.
Perhaps it's this hope that makes me feel that it wasn't all in vain.

"You had me several years ago when I was still quite naive"
Carly Simon

Listen To Your Mother and Always Wear Your Seatbelt

*Dear readers, 
I actually began writing this particular post back in June. I somehow wasn't able to finish it until now, the scare being way too fresh then to really relive and think about. It's still pretty fresh but I felt the need to portray some humor during a situation that was far from being funny. Sometimes, that's all we can do to get through the trials that life presents to us. This was one of the hardest and scariest days that I ever lived through.....That being said, I'm grateful for my own and for my families' sense of humor during times of great need for a laugh.

My parents were in a wreck several weeks ago.
But that's not what this particular post is about.
To lesson worried thoughts and suspicion, I will inform you that they are both alive and well (thankfully) and that all of their limbs are working properly. They have some minor cuts, bruises, neck and chest pain but all of the diagnostics came back negative for anything critical.
That being said, I have found my new source for material to write about.
Have you ever been to the ER on a Saturday night?
Holy crap! That's some cheap entertainment! (Cheap, that is if you're not the one being examined and if you actually have health insurance. This particular night, I of course came along for moral support. I had no idea the sights that I would behold during this 5 hour encounter. But I couldn't make this shit up...)
We got there and I had to drop my parents off at the front in order to go find a parking spot. My nerves were so fried at this point so I parked in the nearest parking lot I could find, praying that my car wouldn't get towed and that I wouldn't get mugged during the brief walk back up to the emergency room. I tried to get my barrings because I wanted to be strong for my parents. I refused to let thoughts like "they could have died"creep into my brain.  (Even though this is the first thing my Daddy said to me when I got to the crash site. Subtlety has never been his area of expertise.)  The important part is that I knew deep down that they were OK outside of some mild pain and shock.
They were waiting up at the front desk, checking in and I took this opportunity to non-nonchalantly look around.
There is a reason I work with animals and not people.
Why?
Because people are disgusting.
One poor woman was sitting all by herself in a wheel chair with a towel draped over her face. With any slight movement she made, she would press the towel up firmly to her mouth as if to keep the threatening vomit down.  With each gag, I gagged internally (being the sympathetic vomit-er I am) and I had to peel my eyes away with the mere thought that she had no one with her to comfort her. I felt so badly for her that if there hadn't been the need there to show full support for both of my parents, I would have gone over and offered her a hug....as long as she didn't vomit on me.
Then there was the guy with no underwear, sporting the baggy jeans over what should have been the rim of his boxers. (I actually had not noticed the no underwear part...my Mom pointed that out to me...thanks Mom...). I was more focused on the conversation he was having with his girlfriend. He was going to go outside and smoke with his friend who also happened to be at the emergency room for some sort of fungus creating a life on his ankle.The girlfriend was upset because he was actually just diagnosed with pneumonia. Seriously dude? Is a cigarette really your first priority at this point? (I'm not sure what kind of person you are if you randomly run into one of your closest buds at the emergency room .At least they got to catch up over the probable cancer forming in both of their young worn out bodies.) Perhaps this sounds a bit judge-y...but I've found the filter turns completely off after you've been presented with the reality check that someone you love could have been killed.
I had to sit in the lobby for the majority of the time, waiting while my parents were being examined. Patients were continually called back and I sat and half way watched the movie they had kindly provided. It was a war movie of some sort, one with Matt Damon, and I couldn't help thinking to myself, "is this really the best form of entertainment for inhabitants of an emergency room?" I would think that they would want to have something more calm and peaceful on the t.v. ...like "Sesame Street" or "Mister Rogers" but perhaps they were portraying an "It could always be worse" scenario.
I also couldn't help but wonder why some people were there. I wasn't intentionally being nosy, but I did often find myself creating different scenarios for people coming in and out of the lobby. The poor guy who had a huge paper towel wrapped over his entire left hand, I only assumed cut himself at work while preparing someone's entree. (I made a mental note not to ever eat out again.) Then there was the younger couple of which the wife kept getting up and going to the bathroom, while her husband sat there with his arm wrapped around her. They only spoke in soft whispers with heads down. The scene was all too familiar to me and as much as I tried to mentally send over vibes of support and empathy, I knew nothing anyone could say or do could take away the pain they were surely both feeling.
I finally got called back to sit with my parents while they were waiting for their test results. They were holding up pretty well for the most part, just hungry, tired, aching and frustrated. I would have offered comedy relieve in such an instance but it turned out I didn't have to. The lady behind the curtain was exclaiming how she had already filled up 10 bags in the last couple of days and that Dr. such and such had done her surgery in another county. I could only assume that she was talking about poop and a colonoscopy. Dad confirmed that I was probably right. It wasn't so much the fact that we could hear every word she was saying... I don't want to seem callous because she was obviously in quite a bit of discomfort... It was simply the fact that it seemed anyone who walked by whether it be another Doctor, Nurse or Patient, she would start over from the beginning, telling her whole story over and over again. At 11:30 at night, when you have been there for 3 hours already, sometimes you have to laugh to keep from crying.
Even if it seems a bit cruel...
And especially if it concerns poop. (Let's face it, potty humor is always a winner when lack of sleep is involved.)
In retrospect, it was all quite the experience. I guess we made as much good out of the bad that we could. I guess that's what we all do during moments of crisis. Otherwise we would go insane. I realized, once again, that night how very lucky I am to have the family that I have. My brother and sister-in-law were on their way from Raleigh, making the four hour drive just to make sure that everyone was OK. Life is too short not to appreciate every day.
It's nice to be surrounded by people who remind me of this very fact.

Zombie Apocolypse

I'm pretty sure it's happening soon.
I keep having dreams about the undead and their upcoming attack on the world as we know it.
Take shelter folks. Take shelter.
Upon driving to work the other day, I saw a rusty turned over motor bike AND a large black trash bag, filled with God knows what, along the side of the road.
"So what?" you might say, but think about it.
Think about it.
I think the dreams are trying to tell me something. I am often caught in some type of condemned building, sometimes with Andrew, but ALWAYS with our 5 cats. Lorelai often takes zombie form but in the dream, I can't come to terms with the reality that she has turned. She's already kind of a bitch in real life. There have been moments when she is the only one in the room and then suddenly it's one of the other cats and she's gone. To explain this phenomenon, we have deduced that she has a closet of cat suits hiding somewhere within the house. Possibly underground. This being said, I can't even imagine what she would be like as part of the undead. 
We think the mere threat of an arising zombie apocalypse is why our cat Phoebe never blinks. (Either that or she's been watching too much Doctor Who.)
I often wonder if Andrew himself has gone to the dark side. He often sings and talks to himself in a monotone voice and he's constantly eating tums which have lots of calcium. So I think he might be trying to keep his bones from becoming too brittle and breaking, therefore revealing his true identity of working under cover for the zombie clan. Not to mention , being a zombie himself. 
Or maybe I'm just paranoid and have been watching too many zombie TV shows and movies. (I can't seem to not watch Zombieland whenever it's on because I love me some Jessie Eisenberg. He's what I want Michael Cera to be...).
Come to think of it, I watch a lot of crime shows too so that could possibly explain my heightened suspicion with the random garbage bags on the side of the road. Maybe they're really filled with trash and not body parts...and I guess zombies aren't smart enough to bag up their victims.
But you never know.
You. Never. Know.
Or perhpas my fear stems from the fact that should I be turned into a zombie, what would I do? I'm a vegetarian and eating flesh (animal or human) is just gross.However,  it would be cool to be able to do my own rendition of Michael Jackson's Thriller, as long as I didn't have to wear a red leather jacket.
All I'm saying is to keep a lookout. Zombies or no zombies...the world is a scary place.
Don't even get me started on the manatees.....

Weekly Gratitude Update: 8/13/12-8/19/12

This past week was one of those weeks when it was truly difficult for me to focus on the positives. It seemed as though one bad thing was happening after another, making me question once again my career choice, and I just couldn't get a break.
I already was aware that last Monday would start my 12 day in a row work stretch so that in itself always puts me a little on edge. But when you fill each day with cranky co-workers and an impatient Doctor telling you to go to lunch when there is an anesthetized dog on the table and he tells you he's going to watch him but keeps walking away, leaving you there with a "What am I supposed to do now?" look on your face, it's no wonder I didn't run from the building screaming and pulling my hair out.
Believe me. I wanted to.
It also seemed like every dental we did consisted of some sort of tooth (sometimes more than one) extraction and it was as if the teeth were holding on for dear life, refusing to come out and laughing at us for trying to achieve such a feat.
Damn teeth.
My back ached during and after each day and I so badly just wanted to crawl into a little ball and cry each morning upon hearing my alarm go off, beckoning  me to wake up and to start another disastrous day.
All this being said, and really, I'm keeping the experience of last week light because there is simply no use in dwelling over events gone by, I was still able to conjure up a small list of gratitudes.

1) I heard from a dear friend that I can't ever remember not having in my life in some way and she told me her baby sister is having a c-section on the 21st. Two new babies will be welcomed into this world and they are going to have the most loving family. I am so elated for them all.

2) I have the best mother-in-law in the world. She called this week to check in, as she always does. I wasn't home when she called and she asked Andrew to give me a kiss on the cheek for already putting in motion the plans for our annual Christmas party. I love how both our families get so excited about this yearly event and how it seems all of them are going to try to make it this year as well, even though the commute is now 4 hours away since we moved.

3) During my lunch break on Thursday, I called Andrew literally speechless over the events that took place that morning. I had no words and I think it freaked him out a little bit because I am usually pretty good about having something to say about any given situation. He offered to come see me and I sadly declined the invitation because I knew if I saw him in that very moment, I would burst into uncontrollable sobs and never ever return to work again.
No I'm not being dramatic.
Yes. It was that bad of a day.
I came home to find two surprises awaiting my arrival. He had gone to Best Buy and bought a roku for the living room and a new flat screened t.v. for our bedroom.
I am now able to watch Bones and Brothers and Sisters (among many other t.v. shows and movies) without worrying that I'm hogging the downstairs t.v. The extra sweet part about these purchases is that he made sure to inform me that they weren't bought in order for us to spend time apart from each other. I already knew this but the fact that he felt he needed to relay this made me smile.
It was the second time in one day that I was rendered speechless.

4) The Hunger Games came out on dvd! Saturday night Andrew and I were all ready to go downtown and live up the nightly Asheville scene. We went out to eat and it started raining. We then quickly decided to just go to Best Buy after dinner to buy the movie. We also bought Just Dance 3 because it was on sale for 10 bucks. Then we went to the grocery store where we bought candy, oreos and popcorn. Upon looking at our purchases at the checkout, I looked at him and said, "My God! How old are we?" The only thing "adult" we bought was a bottle of cheap wine. We got home, got into our pajamas and I put my hair in pigtails to put the final details on our slumber party extravaganza. We even giggled.
It. Was. Awesome. 

5) Outside of having to go to work twice to check on the boarding pets, I got to experience my first lazy Sunday in a really long time. We played with the roku and made our first purchase.....the first season of "Are You Afraid of the Dark?" For those of you kids who grew up in the 90's, you realize the significance of this find. We watched the first episode (about a stupid clown named Zebo...I hate clowns....) and I was suddenly transported back in time to the days of being a teenager, staying up late and watching the show in pitch black darkness with my best friend; my Dad there to protect us from everything that went bump in the night. Sometimes nostalgia is all you need.

So came the end of another week. I am so very fortunate to be able to still find joy seeping through the cracks of a stressful week. As always, thank you to those who make my life that much better, just by being a part of it.

Weekly Gratitude Update: 8/6/12-8/12/12

1) I created a new sandwich that both my husband Andrew and I adore. It consists of grilled eggplant, fresh basil, mozzarella cheese and tomatoes. We ate it twice this week. Yum!!!
2) I performed a dental at work on Monday with two extractions that are usually teeth that have to be surgically removed. Both were loose enough to just get out with an elevator so that made me and my upper arms super happy.
3) I managed to be able to do yoga every morning. And every morning, the Leira dog lied down right beside me to offer love and support, especially during the challenging sequences. I feel so energized and renewed every time I finish a yoga practice. It's such a beautiful and positive way to begin each morning.
4) I can almost (almost) smell fall in the air. I cannot tell you how elated this makes me. I love love love the fall! It's cooler in the mornings and evenings now and we haven't had to use our air conditioning nearly as often. Waking up to the smell of mountain air as it breezes through our bedroom windows each morning is one of the most peaceful moments of each day. I feel so lucky to be living in a place that offers up such moments of serenity.
5) Tuesday morning, I woke up and found a sweet message written on the the last gratitude post I wrote. Thank you Sara for always supporting me and lifting me up with your kind words. I am so very lucky to have a friend in you.
6) Andrew and I had another movie date and experienced the Cinnabar for the first time. It was lousy service and only an OK movie but I always enjoy date nights:). PLUS! They brought me my popcorn in a HUGE metal mixing-like bowl and it was cheaper than it would have been at a regular movie theater. Cheap popcorn and wine during a movie viewing with my favorite-est person in the world = a wonderful time in my book.
7) At work last week, one of our clients brought in two 8 week old sibling chihuahua's that she had rescued/bought from a meth head "breeder". I wanted to put both the pups AND this sweet little old lady into my pocket and carry them home with me. Such kindness and puppy breath always brings a smile to my face.
8) I learned two new songs on the guitar. Thank you Brandi Carlile for inspiring me to continue learning and improving on my skill.
9) I made the best salad EVER! Arugula, strawberries and shaved almonds. Need I say more?
10) Thursday was my Friday and the knowledge of this is what got me through having a not so easy dental to do with 5 extractions that took us forever to accomplish and a 4 minute lunch to follow.
11) We got up early Friday morning, packed up ourselves and the Leira dog and headed out onto the parkway where we hiked to a beautiful waterfall. I can't get over how close we are to so many hiking trails and beautiful landmarks. Neither of us can get enough out of these mountains. They keep beckoning us to come out and play.
12) After our hike, we traveled another hour and a half to one of my favorite destinations in the world, Fontana Village. It is here that my brother and I spent many of our summers growing up. It was discovered by my parents before we were even a glimmer in their eye and it has remained a very special place in our families' heart. My parents had driven there the night before and my brother and sister-in- law and Aunt, Uncle and cousin met us all there later. It was a fun filled weekend full of love and laughter. But I think my favorite moment was singing and playing guitar with my brother Pat. He is such a huge inspiration to me and I am so very lucky to have him not only as a brother, but as a best friend. I have always wanted to have enough courage to feel like I was good enough to play the guitar with him, and though we sounded rusty, it truly was music to my ears. It was also super fun to play and sing along with him and my Aunt Phylis and cousin Jennifer. I felt like I was in a scene in a movie and I didn't want it to end.
13) We came back home yesterday afternoon to 5 very needy kitties. All of them took turns snuggling on the couch while we ate frozen pizza, drank cheap wine and watched a couple of episodes of Monk. We then went to bed with a very wiped out Leira dog in between us.
14) Life is good. It's as simple as that. No trial or feat could possible be big enough to destroy the happiness between Andrew and I and our 6 little critters. I am so fortunate to wake up beside him each morning, beginning each week with the knowledge that he will always be there through every moment of happiness and any challenge that may threaten this.
15) The love I feel from everyone in my life overflows me with gratitude. Thank you all for being a part of this journey, and for keeping me focused on the real things that matter.
Here's to another joy-filled week!

It's the Small Things In Life: Weekly Gratitude Update

I have a new idea. Much like John Stewart has his weekend update, I have decided to do a weekly update of all the events, people, activities, books, music, ect, ect ect, that I am particularly grateful for at the end of each week.

I too often find myself getting caught up in everything that could be just a little bit better in life and then have no room to think on all of the positives. If I keep this up, there won't be any more positives floating around me to keep me going. I don't like who I am when I become ultra critical of my surroundings, wishing to have more from everything and everyone. I can't change anything or anyone. All I can do is improve upon myself and set boundaries when I start to become a little more involved than what is truly needed. I always want to put a band-aid on everything to somehow secure the hurt that someone is going through, even if it's just for a little while. Sometimes, I forget that I have days when I need this too. My hope is that this new segment I have promised myself to do on a weekly basis, will help me keep what's important in my mind should I have a difficult day.

So here is my first  weekly update full of things that I am especially grateful during the week of 
7/30/12-8/5/12:

1) Andrew and I got to go out to dinner with my parents to Carabbas on Tuesday. It's so nice to be able to see them more often since we've moved to Asheville.
2) I finished my Jodi Picoult book and it ended better than I thought it would. It took me two months to read because I kept getting so frustrated with what looked like the end result was going to be. She is my hero when it comes to writing and she has inspired me to write more.
3) In the midst of a very stressful, challenging week at work, one of my co-workers and I found the time to laugh until we cried. Perhaps it was part delirium, but sometimes the best cries are via laughter.
4) My husband took me out on a date Friday night.
5) On date night we got to experience the best soft pretzels and homemade mustard either of us had ever had. Mmmmmm. Soft pretzels. I'm seriously drooling. 
6) Lorelai slam dunked a Kleenex into the waste basket one morning when I was getting ready for work. I don't think she's quite ready for the kitty olympics but I refuse to be a stage mom and only want her to continue playing as long as it makes her happy.
7) I downloaded the newest Brandi Carlile c.d. and it. is amazing! Sometimes all it takes is good music to get out of a funk.
8) We got to hang out like old times with Pat and Jenn (my brother and sister-in-law). We ate Mexican food and then went back to their house and talked about t.v shows and movies.
9) My parents took care of our pets while we were out of town. This might seem miniscule to some but it is so nice to know that our critters are in good hands while we are away. I can't say how many times I have had a hard time focusing on having a nice weekend getaway because my brain is stuck on worrying about whether or not the pets are OK.
10) Andrew and I were asked to be a part of our newest niece's Baptism. We got to stand in the back with our brother and sister-in law and then carried the bread and wine up to the priest for communion.
11) After said Baptism and all the pictures were taken, I got to hold her first whereas last time, I had to wait what seemed like an eternity. I love that little girl so much and am so very grateful to be even a small part of her life.
12) We got to see all of Andrew's side of the family and hung out and laughed and joked. I am so blessed to have two such wonderful families in my life.
13) We got home early enough last night to catch up (almost) on dvr'd shows and ordered a pizza.
14) My daddy and his friend fixed the screen on our screened in back porch and it looks awesome! One more thing can be checked off the list of "to-do's" for our house. Next goal: the purple couch.
15) I went to bed happy, even though I knew I would be waking up to Monday morning. In thinking about writing this blog, I was reminded of all of the people in my life who love and support me. Sometimes, it's so easy to make oneself feel so all alone when all you have to do is look around you to notice that you are anything but.

Here's to a new week of positives!

The Lens Is Out Of Focus

Sometimes I feel like a camera.
I lose focus and suddenly everything around me seems blurry. Some days, all it takes is a 20 minute yoga practice or dancing around the living room to The Grateful Dead and I'm back in the game. Others, it takes a bit more humph to get me going again and no matter how many times or how often I try to readjust the setting on my lens, everything still seems completely out of whack and the picture comes out all wrong.
I am trying to focus on being more positive of late. I somehow lost site of that somewhere in the past few months and though I usually adorn a cheery disposition on the outside, it sometimes doesn't seep through the rest of my skin and my insides are found wanting.
One day at a time, I have started to set new goals for myself. I find I get bored way too easily. My brain never stops thinking and my fingers never start wriggling throughout each task I feel the need to finish within a day. I make to do list upon to do list and feel guilty when I can't accomplish everything all at once. Then I get frustrated because the day is over and I have no time left to do something enjoyable.
I'm learning to make time for fun.
I'm also learning how to breathe. Maybe it's just me but I have made the observation that when I get particularly flustered, I hold my breath. Having no air circulating in and out of your lungs is not a good thing. I guess that's why you always hear people saying "take a deep breath before you do or say something that you're going to regret." There really is some truth to that. If you take the time it takes to breathe in and out one good deep breath, it may stop you from completely forming negative emotions and letting them pass through your body, causing more stress than is needed. The more I think on and practice this frame of mind, the more I am able to let go.
Letting go is never easy. I am often guilty of holding back and not finishing something because of my fear of rejection or not being liked. The past few days, I have been writing about a time in my life that I truly struggled. I was concerned that in writing about and revisiting these events, I would come out blotchy and crumpled like a roll of film being over exposed. The truth is that I need to get it out and it's OK to be exposed. That's what writing a memoir does to you. It reveals the insides and outs of one's life and I can't be too afraid or hold back too much. If I do, this great work that I am trying to create will never be formed into the something I want it to be.
Reading back over the sentences I've written this week, I have found that it's not quite as painful as I thought it would be. The words are beginning to flow and make sense. I have some gaps to fill in but I'm still in the very beginnings of what I hope becomes a great piece of art. I'm letting go and letting the blank page in front of me be the canvas for the photograph I want to create.
Even if it's a little bit blurry right now, I guess it's a start.

Aghan Girl

This is my favorite picture of all time.
I remember the first time seeing this picture and having the same feeling towards it I have today. Many may say that her eyes are fearful but I draw nothing from it but strength and determination. Her eyes pierce through any spectator as if to challenge him into crossing her path.

She reminds me of Katniss from The Hunger Games.... But her story is not a work of fiction.

I was thinking about her this morning because my own conscience was beckoning for strength. Suddenly, this image crept into my mind. The moment it did, I felt as if I could accomplish any feat that might be tossed my way today.

I wanted to know more about this stranger and her ability to capture mine, and I'm sure so many others', attention. Everyone has at least seen this photograph at some point in their lives. She's famous and she never knew of or intended it. To me, that makes this image that much more beautiful.

I had never read her story until today: http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photographers/afghan-girl-cover.html

To hear her speak of her life would be an honor. She and those like her have so much to teach us all about life and the hardships that we face. She is a true warrior and I admire her and her path to freedom.

We spend so much of our time worrying about trivial matters. On days like today when I find myself worrying more than usual, I have to remind myself that it could always be worse.

I could be homeless and an orphan with no shoes on my feet or shirt over my back.

I was born into freedom and there are so many individuals in this world who will never get the chance to even take a glimpse into her eyes.

So I thank you Afghan Girl, wherever you may be. Thank you for humbling me and for giving me the strength I needed today. Your fight will never be overlooked.

My Kind Of Protest

It's that time of year again when everyone's politics and beliefs get put on public display because no one knows how to keep their opinions to themselves.
I know we live in a free country where freedom of speech is a huge benefit, but sometimes I think this one right is taken advantage of more than any other. Since when was it ever OK to knock other people onto their asses because they don't believe in the same thing you do?
Since when was it OK to ridicule someone just because they are different?
We are so obsessed with our right to speak freely that sometimes we forget that who or what we are speaking against is a person. The hatred that ensues over political or even moral conversation is baffling.
I'll be honest. I hate this time of year because it brings out the worst in people. Not everyone is in tune with the emotional status of another person. Not everyone cares; in fact, I don't think most do. Most are too busy "being right". There comes a line between speaking your opinion to get a point across and intentionally hurting your opponent just to win a stupid debate.
In my book, this is not OK.
My family and I went to explore downtown Brevard this past weekend and came upon a silent protest. There were 4 older men and their dog, all standing with signs about peace and anti-war. They didn't speak to anyone who passed them by unless they spoke to them first. They were calm and let their signs do the talking. It reminded me of John and Yoko and their bed in's.
Sometimes silence speaks louder than words.
I am constantly paranoid that people are judging me for not speaking up. My shyness has often come across as snobbery when I don't think that has ever been the case. I am a true observer in that I take every piece of information in before I form my own opinion about something. And in doing so, I still respect everyone else involved regardless if they agree with me or not. I avoid confrontation because I get so tongue tied that I can never get out the ideas that are forming in my brain. I don't like to argue with anyone or to prove myself and my beliefs. I know how I feel and it's no one elses business but my own.  At times, this makes me look ignorant and perhaps I'm being judged for that as well.
Maybe I am too sensitive to everyone elses' feelings. Maybe I'm too sensitive myself. I posted a video on YouTube once. It was just a silly 20 second video with me and the stuffed rabbit Andrew and I always take with us on vacation. We thought it would be funny to post it with the title "Rabbit Attacks Girl". After awhile there were more dislikes than likes posted towards it and the comments got nastier and nastier, one being that I was a "troll girl".
My feelings were hurt by a person I didn't even know and I tried to understand why in the World someone would say such a terrible thing just because they didn't like something. It's just a video, if you don't like it, fine. But why go completely out of your way to intentionally make another person feel badly? I just don't get it. I deleted the video because I personally couldn't handle the criticism being thrown at me over something that was just supposed to be fun and silly and possibly make someone else laugh.
My point is this: Think before you speak. Is it really necessary to share how you feel if it's going to cause someone elses emotions harm? I know sometimes these conversations need to happen if the other person's actions are causing an issue in the workplace or social event, ect. But fiirst ask yourself, is it worth it for everyone involved? If not, just let it go. It's not that hard.  Life is too short to be bitter, judging every person, place and thing that you come into contact with.
To quote one of my favorite movies Bill and Ted,  "Be excellent to each other. And.... Party on dudes!"
You might just be surprised at how much better you feel focusing all of your energy on something positive.

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

I have a new motto and it is precisely this: Let them come to me.

I have always been the initiator in keeping in touch with people, whether it's old co-workers, friends, family, ect. I'm usually the first one to write or to pick up the phone, which makes it that much more of a special event when someone actually beats me to it. I know that lives get busy. Heck, my own life seems to never stop beating. I know that I am constantly thinking about other people and how much I miss seeing or talking to them on a regular basis. My hope is that  they think about me as often.

But gestures matter to me. Sometimes so much that it hurts my feelings when it seems I am the only one trying to keep things going. I know deep down that a lot of these feelings stem down to my paranoia of people not liking me. I know this isn't true but leave me alone to think about it for more than 5 minutes and I will have convinced myself that the world in general doesn't except me and that this includes everyone else I have ever known or will ever meet.

I was that girl who sat by the phone, willing it to ring. I can't remember a time when I didn't feel as though I was waiting for something to happen. In a way, I still am that little girl and I'm tired of waiting.

I want to soar.

And I refuse to let others' actions, or lack there of, hold me back from flying to the highest peak I can possibly get to. It is no fault but my own in that I have let this happen again and again. I offer excuse upon excuse as to why I didn't just go out on my own; by myself to explore the great wide open. I have forever wanted, and sometimes even claimed, to be confident and independent. I don't need to rely on anyone else in order to make myself happy.

My happiness lies within my hands alone, with maybe a little help from whoever is looking out for us up above.

It's so easy to let oneself get settled within the twines of everyday life. But I don't want to keep putting off my dreams because I'm too exhausted or because I have a headache or because I can always do it tomorrow or the next day. There are no guarantees that there will be a next day so the challenge is this:

GET OFF OF YOUR ASS MARY AND DO WHAT YOU WANT TO DO!!! STOP MAKING EXCUSES THAT YOU AREN'T GOOD ENOUGH OR TALENTED ENOUGH TO MAKE A MARK ON THIS WORLD. HOW WILL YOU KNOW IF YOU DON'T EVEN TRY? STOP COMPLAINING AND IF YOU FAIL, YOU FAIL. YOU JUST GET RIGHT BACK UP AND TRY AGAIN IN YOUR NEXT ADVENTURE. DON'T GIVE UP. BELIEVE IN YOURSELF. FLY DAMN IT!!!

Just spread your dusty wings

...and fly.

"Go ahead and take your best shot,
Let 'er rip, give it all you've got,
I'm laid out on the floor, but I've been here before,
I may stumble, yeah I might fall,
Only human aren't we all?
I might lose my way, but hear me when I say,

I will stand back up,
You'll know just the moment when I've had enough,
Sometimes I'm afraid, and I don't feel that tough,
But I'll stand back up,"
Sugarland

The Counseling Sessions

I have never been a big fan of counseling. I think it works tremendously well for a lot of people but it has never been my cup of tea. Perhaps, it's because my few experiences with it were somewhat forced upon me.
The first time, was when I was in 6th grade. My parents were separated at the time and were going to a counselor whose name rhymed with "walrus". (From here on out, he will be known as "Doctor Walrus", which is actually the name I have always used for him because I hated him from the get go. Hey. When you're a naive ten year old little girl, this is as nasty as the insults can get...and I felt bad for calling him that, not for his sake...but for all of the walruses out there that I insulted. I am so sorry. )
It was bad enough that my parents weren't together during that time and for some reason, they thought it would be a fantastic idea to have my brother Pat and I meet the counselor they had been going to for months. (Enter the Walrus.) I had no interest in lying on a couch, talking to a stranger about how their separation made me feel. I wanted to grab him by his big teeth-y tusks (I've always had a vivid imagination...) and scream "How do you think it makes me feel you big dummy?!?"
Poor guy. He never had a chance.
My second experience with a counselor was when I was in high school. Someone had seen me crying out in the hallway because I had just received my first (and only) "F" on a report card. I was in hysterics and my boyfriend at the time was trying to comfort me but getting absolutely nowhere. I couldn't even talk, I was so upset. I'm not even sure he understood why I was crying so hard in the first place.
The bell rang and I reluctantly let go of him and walked to my next class. A few minutes later, another student came in and handed a note to my teacher. She looked at it briefly, then called my name. I walked up to the front of the class and she handed me the note.
I was being summoned to the guidance counselor.
Seriously? A girl can't stand and cry hysterically in the hallway without having someone concerned she's going to commit suicide? I guess it's sweet that a complete stranger found it in her heart to be concerned about me, but it really only made matters worse.
I remember walking through the hallways, back and forth, not sure where I was going because I had never had to visit the guidance counselor before. When I finally made it she simply asked me why I had been so upset and I told her about my grade. She looked at me like I was an idiot and like "Don't you know there are students here with real problems?!?" I gave her a look back like "Hey lady. This wasn't my idea. Once I get the tears out, I'm good to go.Believe me. I didn't ask for this extra attention."
The third and final time I attempted going to a counselor was during my second semester at UNCW. I had decided that I wanted to drop out. I was miserable, unhappy and borderline anorexic. I couldn't sleep and my grades were starting to slip. I was a walking zombie girl, wearing pajama pants and frazzled hair to class, not caring what was going on around me.
I had mild thoughts about killing myself whenever I saw a sharp object lying in front of me. It could have been a razor or a knife, didn't matter. I somehow always imagined how it would feel to plunge it into my body...just to stop or at least numb the pain I was feeling. These thoughts only lasted a few seconds and were never really real. But, I'm guessing that's not a normal way to feel.
The head administrator of the college called me once he received my drop-out form , exclaiming that I couldn't just quit and blah blah blah. He was kind of an ass actually, which made me want to leave even more. He then suggested...you guessed it...that I go to a counselor.
I thought to myself, "Well self. Third time's a charm."
I went and all the guy had to say to me is "I see you have an engagement ring on. Does this decision have anything to do with that?"
I'm not exactly sure what the words were that came out of my mouth, but I can only imagine it wasn't a pleasant conversation from then on out. All I really remember of this event is that I got defensive and told him that I just wasn't happy there and that it didn't matter that my fiance' at the time wasn't there. I would have been unhappy in Wilmington regardless of the situation. It just wasn't for me and I felt like I needed to regroup and set new boundaries, create new dreams for myself. If I stayed, I would have been wasting my time.
I don't like to waste my time. I like to have a goal in mind. I might get side-tracked at times, but I always reach my destination eventually. I was tired of trying to prove myself to him and to anyone else who just didn't understand. I wasn't asking for understanding.
I was asking for support.
I walked out of his office, not caring whether or not he thought I was being selfish or just plain crazy. Maybe I was being a little of both. I have never been one to give up the chance to search for something better. I already knew that I didn't belong there...so why should I have stayed?
So alas, I decided on my walk back to my dorm room, that I would never go see a counselor again.
It's not that I think anything is wrong with it, I truly don't and as I said before, I know counseling has helped so many people in this cruel world. It's just not for me. Maybe it's because I set up a huge defense when I meet anyone new, not wanting to let my guard down completely, in fear that he might perceive me as being weak...or that he will take advantage of my obvious sensitivity.
There have been many chapters during my life in which the suggestion to talk to a "professional" has been brought to my attention. I just blow it off, knowing that I don't need it.
I'm comfortable enough in my own skin to accept that I am a stubborn individual who doesn't willingly seek out help...even when it's needed. I have to get my own thoughts together in order to understand myself...sometimes it takes awhile and sometimes it's a struggle. I've just always been of the mind, if I can't figure it out, how can a stranger?
I think we all have our different types of "therapy". I've always used my writing as a way to get through and understand all of the random thoughts and ideas that are hiding within my brain.
It's worked so far, so I guess I'm doing something right.

"And When I talk about therapy I know what people think. That it only makes you selfish and in love with your shrink. But oh how I loved everybody else, when I finally got to talk so much about myself."
Dar Williams

Inspiration Via the Form of a Boosk.

After writing yesterday's post, I became very agitated. I kept reading it over and over again and I felt like I wasn't able to truly get across what I was trying to say. I asked Andrew to analyze it (because he's the best husband ever:), and he sort of got it but not quite to the extent I was aiming for.
I became more frustrated,
And, like he always does, he listened to me rant on and on about the way my brain works, jumping from one random thought to the other, protecting itself and my heart from the wall I put up years ago. I'm so scared to break down that wall because all of that pain is lingering there, awaiting my arrival and I'm not sure I'm ready for it.
I'm not sure I ever will be.
He then asked me if I ever considered trying to write from a fictional aspect, creating a character who is more or less me, but not labeling it as myself.
As he was asking me this, my thoughts went on a rampage as I tried to store and memorize each one for future chapters.
I of course, fought the idea at first. How am I supposed to write about a fictional character who is truly myself? How does that work? How is it any different from writing from a non-fiction angle?
He left the room and I stared at my computer screen.
And I began to type.
30 minutes later, I had the beginnings of a chapter. Two pages, single spaced that were completely raw and true...and about me. The words were all thoughts I must have tucked away at some point in my life and they came out so freely and so flowing. I had no idea that they were even there or why I wrote about that certain time in the first place. It just came out and I was happy by the product and felt better once I got it out on paper in the "open". 
Funny thing is, I didn't feel defeated. I thought that if I went back there, I would break down and that old familiar pain would overcome me.
It didn't. It just made me feel more empowered, knowing I had lived the scene I had just panned out...and that I had survived it all.
Suddenly, the thoughts are pouring out and I can't get them written down fast enough. 
I'm not sure how this worked, but I'm not complaining.
Thank you boosk for being my inspiration every day. And thank you for knowing me more than anyone else and for listening to all of the ramblings of my brain as I try to figure out my next "project" or "endeavor". Most importantly, thank you for loving me in spite of all of this.
You are my muse and I am forever grateful to you.

Rediscovering Self Discovery

It's hard when you are so happy and your brain is trying to empower you to write about such sad events. This is not to say that my entire life has been sad. All in all, I've had a wonderful life thus far. Yes. There have been many rocks, twists and turns along the road, but it's these memories that have made me into a stronger person. It's these memories that make me so appreciative of what I have now.
But sometimes I let myself falter. Sometimes I cave and become that small, insecure being that somehow always felt invisible.
Sometimes it seems easier to be her when in all reality, I could never ever go back.
It's been two months since I have written anything real and it's the fear of what will come out that's holding me back. I've never disciplined myself to sit and think only about me and my life experiences. I always find myself going back and forth between one person to another, wanting to know more about them, too scared to open the closed door within myself to learn more of who I am; too scared to reveal the true person that lies within.
What if no one likes her?
What if I don't like her?
I've become so frustrated while reading old poetry by a girl who could only see the suffering in the world. Wars, famine and tears made her angry and powerless; keeping all of that pent up anxiety mostly inside until she burst out with random words on paper. Poetry of one failed relationship after the other.
The names always changed, but the poems remained the same. 
None of this is interesting. It's simply annoying.
God. I was so annoying!
I mean, I am all about peace and love and am completely anti-war, but writing 300 some poems about this mere fact got me absolutely nowhere. It only lead to more bad poetry and less of me being able to understand that I couldn't save the whole entire world. It was exhausting and even now, it's exhausting to go back and read it all; to feel that old familiar pain that is always lingering somewhere within me.
In other words, rediscovering one's self is an absolute bitch.
It's no wonder that I often find myself half passed out on the couch in the evenings, asking myself over and over again, what did I do to make me so tired? The truth of it is that I spend a lot of my energy on a daily basis worrying about every little thing from if I forgot to say "Thank You" in the checkout line to "How in the world did Amendment One get passed?" Sometimes, in fact most times, I can't shut my brain off long enough to even get a decent night's sleep.
And yet I'm not unhappy. I'm the happiest I've ever been. I don't feel like I have ever been a negative person and yet so much of my writing has come out in negative thoughts. Perhaps "negative" isn't the correct word. Maybe "real" is more fitting. Everything I write about is about "real world issues". But it's hard being such a positive, happy, daisy picking person, constantly thinking about everything that's wrong in the world.
Why think about it then?
Because you have to if you want to be a part of fixing it.
I have always tried to see the silver lining in every situation I've encountered. I admit, there was a brief time when I wanted to give up and let myself drown in the current I was fighting so hard against. I wanted so badly to go back to the days of watching the newest Disney movie with my Dad, riding bikes out in the front yard with my brother and taking walks and picking flowers in the garden with my Mom.
I didn't realize that I never really had to stop doing these things. Society secretly took over without me even realizing and I got so caught up in what's right and wrong, appropriate and inappropriate. I got lost in the shuffle of everything.
It was no one's fault but my own. 
At one point, I think I truly lost my favorite part of myself; the naivety of believing that everyone is truly good on the inside, it just sometimes comes out bad on the outside. I let this one personality trait take over completely and it nearly erased me into someone I no longer recognized. I became jaded and always hurt and suspicious, never trusting and always thinking everyone had a secret agenda. I went from one extreme to the other. There was no happy medium. I was "Little Girl Lost".
But I broke free, and though sometimes I still have days full of nothing but worry and regret, I look around me and am reminded how very far I have come. I refuse to be taken back in by the evils that threaten my happiness. It may catch me off guard from time to time, but I will always be just a little bit stronger.
I will always win in the end. 

"I was born to laugh. I learned to laugh through my tears. I was born to love. I'm gonna learn to love, without fear."
Over the Rhine