So life has been intersting over the past few days. I flew across country to see my partner and my daughter for Christmas, however, I was unable to see them due to various situations - some I am skeptical on, but o well. I honestly feel that my partner does not want to see me, but at the moment, it's whatever. I will get over it.
So yesterday, the greatest (hear the sarcasm) day of the year, I chose to be a nomad of my own. I hid out at my sister's house for a while before running up to Marland Heights to see a very good friend - that is like a sister to me. I've known her for over about 13 years. It was so fun to be in that house again. For some reason we ended up talking about poop. Yes, I said poop. LOL. Needless to say, Jen cleared the room with her poop talk, but nonetheless it was the first smile - and hysterical laugh- I had engaged in for a while. I forgot how uplifting and overall hysterical that house was. Well, after Jen had to start driving back to Ohio, I decided to grab a fabulous Christmas dinner at Sheetz Made to Order and head over to my sister's work.
My sister works as a front desk associate at one of the three hotels in this little town. Due to the holiday no one was around. So, I went to spend time with her - coffee and Christmas dinner in hand - and plopped my booty on the hotel's front room couch in front of the TV. We watched Alvin and the Chipmunks and then an interview with James Durbin. He was so inspiring, intriguing and overall invigorating.
So after all of that, we realized she still had quite a few hours before she was able to get off work. Sooooo, we opted for Canasta. Canasta is the game my sister and I can play for hours. And I mean hours. I think we stayed up for 72 hours straight playing game after game after game before finally realizing - hey, its been dark and light 3 times, maybe we should sleep. That was how we spent our summers. Well, because neither of us keep two decks of cards in our back pocket anymore, that attempt failed. However, she found SCRABBLE.
Now, anyone who knows me, knows one particular thing.... I am a smart -ass. Literally. I am this person that loves words and I kick ass at Scrabble. My mom and I used to play when I was a kid in order to build my vocabulary. Well, it worked. So, my sister and I played one REAL game, one semi-real game and one "our" game. Let me define these for you. A real game of Scrabble is following the rules, keeping score and using real words - as noticed in Webster's Dictionary. A semi-real game started off as a game without keeping score, but odd, non-word words are thrown into the mix. For example. My sister plays the word "Teake". I ask her "Ronnie, what is that word?" My lovely sister replies, "Its Teake... like "tea-key". You know, like what they have in Hawaii..." I look at her in utter shock and before I can stop myself I burst out "It is spelled T-I-K-I!!!!". The look on her face was then absolutely priceless. She then replied, "well today, it is spelled T-E-A-K-E!" LMAO.
So now the our game. Our game is played by putting all the tiles face up on the coffee table and trying to make the funniest, oddest, most flamboyant words EVER without actually using real words. For instance, we had slycooteroo, flargooneibutte, and swoodiepeckerie There are a few others but I do not remember them off hand.
SIDE BAR: flargooneibutte and swoodiepeckerie have the little red underline beneath the words, however slycooteroo does not! What the hell? LOL
So back on track. Needless to say, we about died. We then took out wooden tile-holder-thingymabobs and started waving them around like we were Harry Potter and took alternate turns in saying one of the words that was on the Scrabble board. All of a sudden, we both point at each each (with the wooden tile holder thingymabob) and say "Slycooteroo" together - same pitch, same tone, same timing. I don't think either of us breathed for two minutes. My stomach hurt so bad from laughing from last night, I woke up this morning STILL sore from the laughter.
So then, around 11pm, my sister's "relief" comes into the hotel. We then talk about all these woods and my sister says "flargooniebutte is a disease of the ass!" All three of us begin to gasp for breath between fits of laughter. So then, Alison (i honestly do not know how she spells her name...Alyson, Allison, Alison...you get the point) says "How would you use it in a sentence?" And somehow, out of no where, I come up with "MANNNNN that guy has some rank flargooniebutte!!!" Due to the laughter that ensues, I drop to my knees willingly so I did not risk falling. My sister says something smart-assed about my position (being on my knees) because I'm gay...and I honestly don't know why she came up with that. But of course, I had a smart ass remark of "I can lick pussy just fine from here". However, I don't think she heard me fully...because if she had, she would have probably fallen over with laughter...or embarrassment.
So that was my Christmas. It started off sucky and ended in my almost-death due to laughter. I love my sister. I am going to get a "space-saver" bag, stuff her in it and suck out all the air just so i can fit her in my suitcase and take her home with me. Wow, I didn't realize it, but it sounds like i wanna put her in a body bag....well, she can play dead. It'd be cheaper airfare!
Monday, December 26, 2011
Thursday, December 22, 2011
The Fall and Wake of It All... Liiterally....
So again it is past midnight and I am not able to fall asleep as swiftly as I would like. I haven't had much trouble falling asleep these past two months, but these past two days have been horrid. Yesterday, I finally wore myself out around 230am after rummaging through pre-stored clothing. I had gained a bunch of weight a few years ago, but kept all my old clothes...and thank GOD because I have dropped three pants sizes in 7 weeks - so I needed the smaller clothing. But, like I said, last night I rummaged through all my old clothes trying to figure out what did fit, what was too big and what was still too small (or too snug for my comfort).
Today, I came home from work and began giving the house a once-over (that i will finish on Friday morning) and I got 94% of my stuff packed for my cross-country flight Friday afternoon. All I have left is the basic stuff like face-wash, Stridex Pads, hair straightener, make up, belt... etc. Ya know...the stuff I'm going to use between now and then.
(Sidebar: As I'm typing this, my cat decided he is going to try to get into the big bag of fresh litter I bought two nights ago.... I am finding myself yelling "knock it off" and "get out of it" more and more these days. I feel bad for my friend who is taking him over the time I am gone! haha).
So the big question is: "Why can't I seem to relax?"
Well, there are probably numerous answers to this vague question. Work is getting extremely busy and on top of the normal work load, I am being put on special assignment after special assignment. I don't mind them, I just wish I could get my own work completed as well. I am currently creating a MS Word Document that contains all the information for all the medical colleges I am applying to. Its a lot of information to comprehend.
Then there is always the more personal matters.... I'm going home. Or, at least that is what most would call it. I prefer to say "I'm going to Mom's" because home is 6 hours to the west of me, just off of Route 8. Even Arizona isn't really home anymore. I've had so many bad memories here...so many tears. I feel that this was a transition place for me. However, I feel that the transition is slowly coming to an end. However, will I get accepted into the medical school that will allow me to actually go home?
You may be wondering "where is home, exactly?" Home is, like I said, 6 hours to the west of my current location. It is surrounded by beaches, beautiful sunsets, sweet air, and a lightness in the energy. Home is San Diego, CA. I do not know anyone there. I've only been there three times, yet each time I've graced San Diego's limits, my heart settles down in the nearest nook of the city. I am especially in love with Poway/Rancho Bernardo/Carmel Mountain area - yet I also adore Mission Beach. It’s pretty crowded, but out of the beaches I've been to, it’s my favorite. I didn't care too much for Oceanside. The pier was nice, the surf was amazing and the coffee...addicting. However, I wasn't too impressed with the beach itself. Oceanside did give me the chance to experience a whole different type of coffee though - which, I do admit, I am addicted to. There's this lil coffee house called Maui Wowi on the boardwalk. I went it and ordered a Mocha Almond Frappuchino. Well, I didn't know this, but it is Hawaiian coffee with a banana base. O.M.G. I was addicted. I drank mine and my girlfriend's. LOL. Well I found a Maui Wowi here in Phoenix, so a friend of mine went up and grabbed a drink - nope. it was not the same. It actually kinda sucked. So, I know when I go back to San Diego, I am taking the 20 minutes out of my way and going to Oceanside...just so I can get my authentic Mocha Almond Frappuchino - even if it is freezing outside.
Ok, So funny thing… I fell asleep – while typing the text above.. HAHA. So much for a sleep aid. “No Dr. I don’t need Lunesta, I blog to make me conk out!”
Today is one day closer to going to Pittburgh, PA. Again…not home. Not really. I am just not that small town girl that I grew up to be. I believed I could be anything – and I became anything. I became what I wanted to become. O well, I think I’m done on that rant.
I have seriously thought about trading my ticket for one going to San Diego. I know that would be horrid… but can’t you imagine? It’s Christmas and you are sitting by a fire pit on the beach bundled in your favorite hoodie as you watch the tide reach out to you and then recede? I could so picture that…..
Don’t get me wrong guys…family…is very important. However, it is more important to some than it is to others. If family is your “thing” – then good for you! It’s just not my favorite thing in the world. I used to do so much because of my family. I used to change because of them or…worse…for them. You have to remember, while it is important to appreciate your family, it is also important to be true to yourself. Point blank – the members of your family will die. I don’t mean to be harsh or unattached from that scenario, but it’s the truth. They will die…before you or after you. However, you are only stuck with one person for the rest of your life. You are stuck with you.
Ponder on that for a while….
Today, I came home from work and began giving the house a once-over (that i will finish on Friday morning) and I got 94% of my stuff packed for my cross-country flight Friday afternoon. All I have left is the basic stuff like face-wash, Stridex Pads, hair straightener, make up, belt... etc. Ya know...the stuff I'm going to use between now and then.
(Sidebar: As I'm typing this, my cat decided he is going to try to get into the big bag of fresh litter I bought two nights ago.... I am finding myself yelling "knock it off" and "get out of it" more and more these days. I feel bad for my friend who is taking him over the time I am gone! haha).
So the big question is: "Why can't I seem to relax?"
Well, there are probably numerous answers to this vague question. Work is getting extremely busy and on top of the normal work load, I am being put on special assignment after special assignment. I don't mind them, I just wish I could get my own work completed as well. I am currently creating a MS Word Document that contains all the information for all the medical colleges I am applying to. Its a lot of information to comprehend.
Then there is always the more personal matters.... I'm going home. Or, at least that is what most would call it. I prefer to say "I'm going to Mom's" because home is 6 hours to the west of me, just off of Route 8. Even Arizona isn't really home anymore. I've had so many bad memories here...so many tears. I feel that this was a transition place for me. However, I feel that the transition is slowly coming to an end. However, will I get accepted into the medical school that will allow me to actually go home?
You may be wondering "where is home, exactly?" Home is, like I said, 6 hours to the west of my current location. It is surrounded by beaches, beautiful sunsets, sweet air, and a lightness in the energy. Home is San Diego, CA. I do not know anyone there. I've only been there three times, yet each time I've graced San Diego's limits, my heart settles down in the nearest nook of the city. I am especially in love with Poway/Rancho Bernardo/Carmel Mountain area - yet I also adore Mission Beach. It’s pretty crowded, but out of the beaches I've been to, it’s my favorite. I didn't care too much for Oceanside. The pier was nice, the surf was amazing and the coffee...addicting. However, I wasn't too impressed with the beach itself. Oceanside did give me the chance to experience a whole different type of coffee though - which, I do admit, I am addicted to. There's this lil coffee house called Maui Wowi on the boardwalk. I went it and ordered a Mocha Almond Frappuchino. Well, I didn't know this, but it is Hawaiian coffee with a banana base. O.M.G. I was addicted. I drank mine and my girlfriend's. LOL. Well I found a Maui Wowi here in Phoenix, so a friend of mine went up and grabbed a drink - nope. it was not the same. It actually kinda sucked. So, I know when I go back to San Diego, I am taking the 20 minutes out of my way and going to Oceanside...just so I can get my authentic Mocha Almond Frappuchino - even if it is freezing outside.
San Diego just seems like home to me. It's where I feel I belong. But anyways, on Friday I begin the journey to go back to the area that I grew up in/around. My first stop is Pittsburgh, PA - which is the closet major city to my small hometown. Then, I make the 30 minute journey out of the city to the conservative, relatively tiny West Virginia town of Weirton. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad i get to see my mom, my stepdad, my sister....hell my girlfriend and my daughter - both whom I haven't laid eyes on in 7 weeks... but, I just don't like being up there. Every time I go back, I am reminded of the pain and the chains that I was once in. I look at my friends and see that they are ALL doing the same thing- married young, having babies, living in a purchased house. They all have that "small town, girl next door" lifestyle. I don't have that. I never wanted that. Yet, I always get scrutinized for my choices. At any given day being back home, I get at least 2-3 friends asking me (more like begging me) to move back home. WHY???
Ok, So funny thing… I fell asleep – while typing the text above.. HAHA. So much for a sleep aid. “No Dr. I don’t need Lunesta, I blog to make me conk out!”
Today is one day closer to going to Pittburgh, PA. Again…not home. Not really. I am just not that small town girl that I grew up to be. I believed I could be anything – and I became anything. I became what I wanted to become. O well, I think I’m done on that rant.
I have seriously thought about trading my ticket for one going to San Diego. I know that would be horrid… but can’t you imagine? It’s Christmas and you are sitting by a fire pit on the beach bundled in your favorite hoodie as you watch the tide reach out to you and then recede? I could so picture that…..
Don’t get me wrong guys…family…is very important. However, it is more important to some than it is to others. If family is your “thing” – then good for you! It’s just not my favorite thing in the world. I used to do so much because of my family. I used to change because of them or…worse…for them. You have to remember, while it is important to appreciate your family, it is also important to be true to yourself. Point blank – the members of your family will die. I don’t mean to be harsh or unattached from that scenario, but it’s the truth. They will die…before you or after you. However, you are only stuck with one person for the rest of your life. You are stuck with you.
Ponder on that for a while….
Sunday, December 18, 2011
You Can't Fight a Ghost....
Five days. Five days until I am on a plane to Pittsburgh, PA. Five days until I see my girlfriend and my daughter for the first time in 7 weeks. Five days until I face my fear of flying alone. Five days until my life may or may not change....
It's a lot to put on "five days". The constant ramblings of my mind take over conscious thoughts and it constantly puts me in a bewildered state. Will my daughter remember me? She's only 17 months old and she hasn't seen me in almost 2 months. Will I be able to adapt back to having a child in the house once we all come back to Arizona? I've been childless for 7 weeks and I have adapted to the quiet - to no other sounds except birds chirping, airplanes flying overhead and the frequent "click clack, click clack" of the keyboard beneath my ever-moving fingers.
Will she love me still? I have changed a lot in the past 2 months. I changed my lifestyle, I've dealt with past issues and I have unlocked parts of myself that were chained so tightly. I have allowed myself to fully be me - a person she has never seen. She tells me she will love me, but I cannot take her word for granted. How do you ever really know if you love someone (or can love someone) until you are around them and get to know them? We have to start at a semi-square one and I don't believe she understands that. There are many things she does not know about me. Will it be too much work for her to find out? Will she be put off by my dominance? I used to be passive towards her. When she would say "I don't want you drinking so much coffee," I would listen and I would always feel guilty if I had coffee. However, since she has been gone, coffee has been a part of my morning routine and it will continue to be once she is back here. She would yell at me if I ate cereal for dinner and so I would feel guilty and I would eat something that I didn't really want to just to appease her. However, if it is late, I am going to eat cereal for dinner. It's better than not eating at all. I am 25, almost 26 years old.
I would do the same to her though at times. But not anymore. She is 24 years old - she's a big girl. If she wants to pull the "you do this or I'm not doing it either", well, she can. I'm not letting her manipulate me anymore - even if it is with good intentions and I am, in return, going to make sure I do not manipulate her. I think as women, its easier to manipulate others....even if we do not realize that is what we are doing. Some of this is brought on by wanting the best for each other. However, sometimes we don't always know what is best for the other one. I'm not saying she has bad intentions, because she doesn't. However, I retook hold over my own life these past weeks and I am not giving it back. I am worried she won't like who I am anymore.
At times, I feel she and I are more best friends than girlfriends to begin with. We work well with each other, but there's so much "missing" between us that I feel should be there between two people in a relationship. I have mixed feelings about this. I think one good thing about her being gone for so long is I have finally realized a few things... The first is if I ever needed to be, I'd be okay being alone. Cause I'm not really alone. I still have people surrounding me, I have my writing, my books, my school work, my job, and everything else to keep me occupied. The second is that there would be other people who could love me. I used to hold so tightly to her because I thought no one but her would ever love me. That's not the case. No, I'm not Eliza Dushku, but I am beautiful and I am incredible. Two things I never thought I'd hear myself say about me.
I've always said "Life isn't about finding yourself, it is about creating yourself", and I still believe that is true. However, when you get to a point where you've gathered bits and parts of yourself and you've hidden that away for so long because you were hurt...its like...its like after so long of hiding, you can't breathe. You feel like you are suffocating and there is no one to blame but yourself. That's the point I hit a while back. I've used this alone time to weed out the "muck" and polish the aspects of myself that I enjoy and that are crucial to my being. Changing and forming yourself is mostly attitude. It's a decision. Sometimes you will have to go through the bad and the ugly. You may have to deal with things from your past. But how do you fight a ghost? That's what the past is isn't it? A ghost?
Fighting your inner demons and the "ghost of self past" is never an easy feat, yet it is important and critical to allowing yourself to live life. I've had to fight them. I am still fighting them. One ghost or one demon at a time. Never try to take it all at once, because you will not be able to handle it. Creating yourself and becoming who you want to be - who you see yourself as - is not simple and it does not happen over night. It is a long, tedious process, but it is well worth it in the end. I am still not who I want to be. I am still on that road of creating myself, and I think that as people, we are always creating ourselves. We are always growing and learning. If we stop growing - stop changing - then we die, be it physically, mentally or emotionally.
Guys, allow yourself to change. Don't be afraid it. It's okay to be anxious, nervous and even a little scared of the outcome of change, but don't let that fear stop you from changing. Embrace it. Be who YOU want YOU to be. Not what someone else wants you to be. Don't ever hide yourself. You will lose yourself and you will desperately wish you hadn't begun hiding in the first place. Don't ever give up.
Keep Strong-
All my love
It's a lot to put on "five days". The constant ramblings of my mind take over conscious thoughts and it constantly puts me in a bewildered state. Will my daughter remember me? She's only 17 months old and she hasn't seen me in almost 2 months. Will I be able to adapt back to having a child in the house once we all come back to Arizona? I've been childless for 7 weeks and I have adapted to the quiet - to no other sounds except birds chirping, airplanes flying overhead and the frequent "click clack, click clack" of the keyboard beneath my ever-moving fingers.
Will she love me still? I have changed a lot in the past 2 months. I changed my lifestyle, I've dealt with past issues and I have unlocked parts of myself that were chained so tightly. I have allowed myself to fully be me - a person she has never seen. She tells me she will love me, but I cannot take her word for granted. How do you ever really know if you love someone (or can love someone) until you are around them and get to know them? We have to start at a semi-square one and I don't believe she understands that. There are many things she does not know about me. Will it be too much work for her to find out? Will she be put off by my dominance? I used to be passive towards her. When she would say "I don't want you drinking so much coffee," I would listen and I would always feel guilty if I had coffee. However, since she has been gone, coffee has been a part of my morning routine and it will continue to be once she is back here. She would yell at me if I ate cereal for dinner and so I would feel guilty and I would eat something that I didn't really want to just to appease her. However, if it is late, I am going to eat cereal for dinner. It's better than not eating at all. I am 25, almost 26 years old.
I would do the same to her though at times. But not anymore. She is 24 years old - she's a big girl. If she wants to pull the "you do this or I'm not doing it either", well, she can. I'm not letting her manipulate me anymore - even if it is with good intentions and I am, in return, going to make sure I do not manipulate her. I think as women, its easier to manipulate others....even if we do not realize that is what we are doing. Some of this is brought on by wanting the best for each other. However, sometimes we don't always know what is best for the other one. I'm not saying she has bad intentions, because she doesn't. However, I retook hold over my own life these past weeks and I am not giving it back. I am worried she won't like who I am anymore.
At times, I feel she and I are more best friends than girlfriends to begin with. We work well with each other, but there's so much "missing" between us that I feel should be there between two people in a relationship. I have mixed feelings about this. I think one good thing about her being gone for so long is I have finally realized a few things... The first is if I ever needed to be, I'd be okay being alone. Cause I'm not really alone. I still have people surrounding me, I have my writing, my books, my school work, my job, and everything else to keep me occupied. The second is that there would be other people who could love me. I used to hold so tightly to her because I thought no one but her would ever love me. That's not the case. No, I'm not Eliza Dushku, but I am beautiful and I am incredible. Two things I never thought I'd hear myself say about me.
I've always said "Life isn't about finding yourself, it is about creating yourself", and I still believe that is true. However, when you get to a point where you've gathered bits and parts of yourself and you've hidden that away for so long because you were hurt...its like...its like after so long of hiding, you can't breathe. You feel like you are suffocating and there is no one to blame but yourself. That's the point I hit a while back. I've used this alone time to weed out the "muck" and polish the aspects of myself that I enjoy and that are crucial to my being. Changing and forming yourself is mostly attitude. It's a decision. Sometimes you will have to go through the bad and the ugly. You may have to deal with things from your past. But how do you fight a ghost? That's what the past is isn't it? A ghost?
Fighting your inner demons and the "ghost of self past" is never an easy feat, yet it is important and critical to allowing yourself to live life. I've had to fight them. I am still fighting them. One ghost or one demon at a time. Never try to take it all at once, because you will not be able to handle it. Creating yourself and becoming who you want to be - who you see yourself as - is not simple and it does not happen over night. It is a long, tedious process, but it is well worth it in the end. I am still not who I want to be. I am still on that road of creating myself, and I think that as people, we are always creating ourselves. We are always growing and learning. If we stop growing - stop changing - then we die, be it physically, mentally or emotionally.
Guys, allow yourself to change. Don't be afraid it. It's okay to be anxious, nervous and even a little scared of the outcome of change, but don't let that fear stop you from changing. Embrace it. Be who YOU want YOU to be. Not what someone else wants you to be. Don't ever hide yourself. You will lose yourself and you will desperately wish you hadn't begun hiding in the first place. Don't ever give up.
Keep Strong-
All my love
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Dreamin'....and a Lil Taste of Liquid Courage
Well, last weekend marked the end of milestone....well, sorta. At the beginning of this semester I had 3 years until I could attend medical school and now I have 2 1/2. Now, many of you may say "Samantha, 2 1/2 years? You have a while..that's a long time away." Which in most cases, those people saying that would be right. However, since I changed direction mid-major and decided to be CRAZY and go after my dream of being a medical doctor, it is not that long of stretch of time. I have to fit at least 8 science courses, 1 trig course, 1 calculus course, 1-2 medical terminology courses and the rest of the psychology courses I need to completely my dual degree in 5 semesters. On top of this, I also have to prepare for the MCAT which I will have to take during the 3rd or 4th semester.
(A side note, I received my grades in my classes this semester and added up, I have a 4.33 GPA!! YEA BUDDY!)
Academically, I think I am insane, yet it doesn't stop there. In addition to having to complete all the academic requirements, I also must keep my M-F 8-5 job and I must keep up tutoring the kids I do because, well, a) I love it and b) it looks good on a resume. Then comes clinicals. Over this coming summer I am going to be starting volunteering at the Children's hospital in order to get clinical time under my belt. I have many things to juggle both professionally and academically and anyone who says that I do not work hard...well, honestly they can kiss my ass because I'd like them to try to pull all of this off with....the last 1/3 of the pie.
People's lives can usually be put into three categories: educational, professional and personal. I have yet to talk about the personal. I am currently in a long-term relationship with the mother of my daughter. However, my situation is a little different than most. My daughter...was not planned nor was she a result of a bad judgement call. My daughter is the "beauty from ashes" result of a very horrific event that happened to my partner. Being the person I am, I could not walk away when she needed me the most. I have not walked away since and I do not plan to walk away. I have no idea how I am going to accomplish everything I need to in order to not only get into medical school but get through it while having a family that I must support, but I know that I can do the impossible.
I have so many plans for my life. So many thoughts and "I'd like to do this" ideas. I love to write. I love to share what I have gone through to young women and to kids. I feel that because of what I have gone through as a child, as a teen and as a young adult I can impart knowledge and wisdom into open minds. I never claimed to be "good" at writing, I just claim the love of it. It allows me a release like no other - not drugs, alcohol, sex... Nothing quite consumes me like writing....well that's a lie. A good book....and I'm a critic, so I mean it has to be a goooooood book. Right now, my addiction is being sedated by an amazing series called The Calliope Reaper-Jones Novels by Amber Benson. I didn't even know she had her own series until last month. Once I found out, I "youtubed" her book readings and listened to opinions about the book then finally got my own copy of the first. I couldn't put it down. Now I am on the second - and I am still just as addicted.
Writing and reading give me a way of dealing with present day issues, just in different ways. Reading a book takes me into another world and I get so wrapped up into the character that my body (and my brain) can recoop from present day drama. Writing offers a way of getting everything that had flooded my already crammed brain out. It gives me an outlet...and a much needed one.
This morning I woke up to another random call from "Unknown". I have eliminated the possibility of it being a telemarketer or bill collector (yes, I am 25... I have bill collectors - actually someone thinks I am Elizabeth Jenkins - so Ms Jenkins if you are reading this [which you probably are not], please tell Son-Huy-Yo that my phone number is not yours, because she obviously isn't listening it me), so that leaves two likely options around a multitude of possibilities - being a) my ex or b) a Spanish-speaking Arizonian who -for some strange reason - thinks I am his "Ese" or "Mamasita". Let me make things crystal ok? I am not prejudice, I dislike everyone equally - especially when they wake me at 8am on my Saturday to sleep in. ok? So either way, I have not found out who "Unknown" is because if it happens to be the first possibility I may just lash out and hex her over the phone.
Ok, So back to the story. After my 8am wake up call from "Unknown" I didn't feel like getting out of bed, so I watched How I Met Your Mother and screwed around on twitter for a lil. Then, at 9 I get another call. My phone was under my pillow and I practically ripped the bed apart looking for it. When I looked down at the ID, I saw it was Dr. Blizzard. (My mom gave me Dr. B's number a couple days ago so that I could input the numbers into my phone so I would know it was him if he called). Now, don't freak out. Dr. Blizzard is the man who performed a research study on the Human Growth Hormone that my stepdad was in during the 60's. My mom, my stepdad and Dr. Blizzard met a couple months ago and asked my mom a lot of questions about me... because I'm pre-med and everything. Well, he also asked her if I would consider going to the University of Virginia - which is where he teaches.
So in a matter of 3 seconds, I tried to wake myself up enough to be coherent to the 90year old man that would be on the other end of the line. We talked for approximately 20 minutes about my grades (it confused him because I have higher than a 4.0 and so I had to explain that my university accepts + or - into their calculations), about choosing a medical school, perhaps going D.O. instead of M.D., a study about psychological trauma and its effects on the HGH (as well as how he is going to send me a transcript of that study), and about when I come to UVA in the summer to look around, I need to call him so we can meet. I think in 20 minutes I charmed the man over. He told me how incredible he thinks I am. I told him about the situation I am in - being a full time employee, a tutor, a mom, a dual time student (12 credits at one school, 12 credits at a second school), a lgbtq mentor and a partner. He told me that I sound like someone who could handle the stress and quick pace of the job. He kept telling me how he was moved by my passion and my drive. This conversation seriously, put me on top of the world this morning.
In relation to this, as long as finances are a-ok, I made a deal with myself. If I received an "A" or higher in one of the classes I didn't think I was doing so hot in, I would get myself a present. So my sister and I are going to go to her tattoo shop on the 30th. I am getting the first out of the 3 symbols of my survival tattooed on. For this to make any sense, there's a few things you must know about me...
The first, is I was abused as a kid. The second is that I came out as being gay in a conservative and Christian community. The third - when my ex wife and I split, I went down a very dark and dangerous path. I was cutter for most of my life, I did drugs from the time i was 16, I drank myself stupid and when my ex and i broke up, I found that I was sleeping with any and every girl I could. I moved to Arizona to get away from all of that. And since, I've rebuilt myself from the ground up. Now, I want to go into medical school and really make a change. I want to find the cause of autism and develop a treatment plan based on that cause. I then want to set up my own orgaization - which I'll define and breakdown for ya'll in another post sometime.
Anyway- I am 25 years old and just embarking on the pre-med degree. I have a family, a job...a life. So, I want to get a set of 3 tattoos. The Japanese symbol for love on my left wrist, the symbol for faith on the back of my neck and the symbol for dream on my right wrist. In order to accomplish what I have set out for myself to accomplish, I must continue to have these three in my life at all times. Without love you cannot have faith. Without faith you cannot dream. Without dreams, you cannot love.
SO, my sister and I are going to go get the first of three done. Since I want to go to medical school, I cannot have any visible tattoos. So I am going to go get the symbol for faith done on the back of my neck. It's going to be small and discrete but it will serve as a reminder that I must...MUST have faith. When my sister and i were talking about this, I asked her one simple question.... "Do you have any vodka?" she replied with the typical "No, but I can get some." Now I know, you're not supposed to drink before getting a tattoo...however, the thought of a lot of tiny needles going into my skin at a very fast pace terrifies the hell out of me. Therefore, I will need a shot (or two) of liquid courage. wish me luck. lol
So guys, take a lesson from me...keep your faith. keep dreaming. keep loving. When you have a dream - don't even give up on it. The dream will not come true if you sit on your couch and watch TV all damn day. You HAVE to put in the effort. You have to work for it. However, while you are working for it, don't let obstacles stop you. Each obstacle you encounter serves as a reminder that you are one step closer to the finish line. Dreams come true guys. Never give up on them. You have to keep going. Keep dreaming. Even if it seems impossible. NOTHING is impossible. And when you are at the edge of dreaming and giving up... take a drink of liquid courage. =)
(A side note, I received my grades in my classes this semester and added up, I have a 4.33 GPA!! YEA BUDDY!)
Academically, I think I am insane, yet it doesn't stop there. In addition to having to complete all the academic requirements, I also must keep my M-F 8-5 job and I must keep up tutoring the kids I do because, well, a) I love it and b) it looks good on a resume. Then comes clinicals. Over this coming summer I am going to be starting volunteering at the Children's hospital in order to get clinical time under my belt. I have many things to juggle both professionally and academically and anyone who says that I do not work hard...well, honestly they can kiss my ass because I'd like them to try to pull all of this off with....the last 1/3 of the pie.
People's lives can usually be put into three categories: educational, professional and personal. I have yet to talk about the personal. I am currently in a long-term relationship with the mother of my daughter. However, my situation is a little different than most. My daughter...was not planned nor was she a result of a bad judgement call. My daughter is the "beauty from ashes" result of a very horrific event that happened to my partner. Being the person I am, I could not walk away when she needed me the most. I have not walked away since and I do not plan to walk away. I have no idea how I am going to accomplish everything I need to in order to not only get into medical school but get through it while having a family that I must support, but I know that I can do the impossible.
I have so many plans for my life. So many thoughts and "I'd like to do this" ideas. I love to write. I love to share what I have gone through to young women and to kids. I feel that because of what I have gone through as a child, as a teen and as a young adult I can impart knowledge and wisdom into open minds. I never claimed to be "good" at writing, I just claim the love of it. It allows me a release like no other - not drugs, alcohol, sex... Nothing quite consumes me like writing....well that's a lie. A good book....and I'm a critic, so I mean it has to be a goooooood book. Right now, my addiction is being sedated by an amazing series called The Calliope Reaper-Jones Novels by Amber Benson. I didn't even know she had her own series until last month. Once I found out, I "youtubed" her book readings and listened to opinions about the book then finally got my own copy of the first. I couldn't put it down. Now I am on the second - and I am still just as addicted.
Writing and reading give me a way of dealing with present day issues, just in different ways. Reading a book takes me into another world and I get so wrapped up into the character that my body (and my brain) can recoop from present day drama. Writing offers a way of getting everything that had flooded my already crammed brain out. It gives me an outlet...and a much needed one.
This morning I woke up to another random call from "Unknown". I have eliminated the possibility of it being a telemarketer or bill collector (yes, I am 25... I have bill collectors - actually someone thinks I am Elizabeth Jenkins - so Ms Jenkins if you are reading this [which you probably are not], please tell Son-Huy-Yo that my phone number is not yours, because she obviously isn't listening it me), so that leaves two likely options around a multitude of possibilities - being a) my ex or b) a Spanish-speaking Arizonian who -for some strange reason - thinks I am his "Ese" or "Mamasita". Let me make things crystal ok? I am not prejudice, I dislike everyone equally - especially when they wake me at 8am on my Saturday to sleep in. ok? So either way, I have not found out who "Unknown" is because if it happens to be the first possibility I may just lash out and hex her over the phone.
Ok, So back to the story. After my 8am wake up call from "Unknown" I didn't feel like getting out of bed, so I watched How I Met Your Mother and screwed around on twitter for a lil. Then, at 9 I get another call. My phone was under my pillow and I practically ripped the bed apart looking for it. When I looked down at the ID, I saw it was Dr. Blizzard. (My mom gave me Dr. B's number a couple days ago so that I could input the numbers into my phone so I would know it was him if he called). Now, don't freak out. Dr. Blizzard is the man who performed a research study on the Human Growth Hormone that my stepdad was in during the 60's. My mom, my stepdad and Dr. Blizzard met a couple months ago and asked my mom a lot of questions about me... because I'm pre-med and everything. Well, he also asked her if I would consider going to the University of Virginia - which is where he teaches.
So in a matter of 3 seconds, I tried to wake myself up enough to be coherent to the 90year old man that would be on the other end of the line. We talked for approximately 20 minutes about my grades (it confused him because I have higher than a 4.0 and so I had to explain that my university accepts + or - into their calculations), about choosing a medical school, perhaps going D.O. instead of M.D., a study about psychological trauma and its effects on the HGH (as well as how he is going to send me a transcript of that study), and about when I come to UVA in the summer to look around, I need to call him so we can meet. I think in 20 minutes I charmed the man over. He told me how incredible he thinks I am. I told him about the situation I am in - being a full time employee, a tutor, a mom, a dual time student (12 credits at one school, 12 credits at a second school), a lgbtq mentor and a partner. He told me that I sound like someone who could handle the stress and quick pace of the job. He kept telling me how he was moved by my passion and my drive. This conversation seriously, put me on top of the world this morning.
In relation to this, as long as finances are a-ok, I made a deal with myself. If I received an "A" or higher in one of the classes I didn't think I was doing so hot in, I would get myself a present. So my sister and I are going to go to her tattoo shop on the 30th. I am getting the first out of the 3 symbols of my survival tattooed on. For this to make any sense, there's a few things you must know about me...
The first, is I was abused as a kid. The second is that I came out as being gay in a conservative and Christian community. The third - when my ex wife and I split, I went down a very dark and dangerous path. I was cutter for most of my life, I did drugs from the time i was 16, I drank myself stupid and when my ex and i broke up, I found that I was sleeping with any and every girl I could. I moved to Arizona to get away from all of that. And since, I've rebuilt myself from the ground up. Now, I want to go into medical school and really make a change. I want to find the cause of autism and develop a treatment plan based on that cause. I then want to set up my own orgaization - which I'll define and breakdown for ya'll in another post sometime.
Anyway- I am 25 years old and just embarking on the pre-med degree. I have a family, a job...a life. So, I want to get a set of 3 tattoos. The Japanese symbol for love on my left wrist, the symbol for faith on the back of my neck and the symbol for dream on my right wrist. In order to accomplish what I have set out for myself to accomplish, I must continue to have these three in my life at all times. Without love you cannot have faith. Without faith you cannot dream. Without dreams, you cannot love.
SO, my sister and I are going to go get the first of three done. Since I want to go to medical school, I cannot have any visible tattoos. So I am going to go get the symbol for faith done on the back of my neck. It's going to be small and discrete but it will serve as a reminder that I must...MUST have faith. When my sister and i were talking about this, I asked her one simple question.... "Do you have any vodka?" she replied with the typical "No, but I can get some." Now I know, you're not supposed to drink before getting a tattoo...however, the thought of a lot of tiny needles going into my skin at a very fast pace terrifies the hell out of me. Therefore, I will need a shot (or two) of liquid courage. wish me luck. lol
So guys, take a lesson from me...keep your faith. keep dreaming. keep loving. When you have a dream - don't even give up on it. The dream will not come true if you sit on your couch and watch TV all damn day. You HAVE to put in the effort. You have to work for it. However, while you are working for it, don't let obstacles stop you. Each obstacle you encounter serves as a reminder that you are one step closer to the finish line. Dreams come true guys. Never give up on them. You have to keep going. Keep dreaming. Even if it seems impossible. NOTHING is impossible. And when you are at the edge of dreaming and giving up... take a drink of liquid courage. =)
Pre-Post...
Ok, So I know I started a "story" type thing with the whole "part 1" labeling. I will continue - this is my...well, its a form of getting everything out and letting it go. After opening myself back up to things, I'm remembering a lot and I need some place to jot them down. So this it is.
However, in between continuous parts of that "story", I will be writing other blogs. So stay tuned
However, in between continuous parts of that "story", I will be writing other blogs. So stay tuned
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Story of a Girl - Part 1 A
You say you are better than me. You try to destroy me. You try to take what I have built around me. Why do you hate me? You say you know how I am. It's been 4 years. You don't know me anymore. Your actions sadden me. You have turned from this magnificent, amazing, beautiful young woman into a monstrous, vile, corrupt, destructive ghost. What happened to you?
PART 1 A- Friendship: The beginning
Let me tell ya'll about a certain person. I met a girl way back in 2003. She was dating my sister's best friend (who my sister was also totally in love with). This girl was "gothic". She had dark eyes and a mesmerizing smile. She had long, dark hair. She was the most gorgeous girl I had ever seen. She got engaged and then shortly after, she and the guy split. I guess it was a very bloody breakup.
I looked up and saw her standing in the front of the church receiving prayer from the pastor. When I looked into her eyes I could see the pain and the despair rising with each breath she took. I immediately gave her my number and told her to call if she needed anything. I told her I would always be there for her, no matter what. Days went by and I didn't hear from her. So I called her. We began a friendship.
For a year, we danced around each other. I was always there for her. She would scream at me and tell me she didn't love, she didn't need me and she didn't want me around. My usual reply? "Have you eaten?" I never let her words get to me because I knew that she needed someone - maybe not me, but someone. I remember the day she saw him at Eat N Park. My boyfriend and his best friend had come down and we all hung out - my sister included. She saw him and she became paralyzed. i could feel the change in her energy; I could hear the uneasiness in her breaths. She latched onto my shoulders for support because she couldn't stand. I transferred all of my energy directly into her - at least as much as I could without passing out. I calmed her. I held her.
The year was full of interesting events. Applebee's runs, Tominson Run Park walks, Walmart trips for the hell of it... She quickly became my best friend. We'd go to my room and lay on my bed and listen to mix tapes that I had recorded. When Usher, Shania Twain or J-Lo would play, she would sing and I would laugh because it was horridly yet purposely off-key. Yet when a song played that she loved, I would hear her true voice and it was like angels were in my room. I remember taking her to a psychology debate that one of my favorite professors was heading. She asked me all these serious questions and I was able to show her my true intellectual self. She told me I reminded her of Willow from Buffy the Vampire Slayer - powerful yet completely academically dorky and quirky. I had never seen Buffy, so I had no idea who she was talking about. I'd randomly get outta class early and speed to her high school so I could surprise her and pick her up. She'd always ask me "Does my mom know?" and what she never realized is I had always called her mom and asked permission before I even left the college.
I remember the first time she told me she was developing feelings for me. We were on our way out of Raccoon State Park and we stopped on the side of the road, got out of the car and sat on an old, rugged picnic table. She told me that she always liked girls, but that she thought she was falling in love with me. At this point, she had chopped all of her hair off. She had attempted to dye it blonde and it was more of a reddish-orange than blonde. She wearing light blue jeans and a black and pink fairy shirt. Totally different than what she was when we had originally first met. I told her that I was straight and that I couldn't be gay. Homosexuality was wrong in God's eyes, but that wouldn't mean I'd stop hanging out with her. After the light turned dark, we went to dinner - to none other than the famous Applebees.
We were inseparable. I taught her many things and she taught me many things. We found a place of refuge in each other. We found an incredible friendship. She would hold me when I would cry about my father. She would hold me after I told her I was raped. I told her everything about me - my fears, my desires, my wants...everything. I wanted to go to Australia and attend Hillsong International Leadership College. She told me she couldn't bear to be 4 years without me, so she was coming with. We even created avatars and made a book about going and what we would study, where we would stay and what all we had to do before we went. I was going into Counseling and she was going into Youth Ministry. She told me she always wanted to go to Lee University - which was a huge Christian university in Tennessee (maybe it was Kentucky...one of those states). She said she always felt the desire to help young kids and young teenagers. I saw how she interacted with pre-teens and i thought that was an AMAZING idea and she would be sooooo good at it. However, when I told her I wanted to go to Hillsong, she told me that she would come with me and we could embark on the adventure of a new country together - that way i'd be less scared.
It was a friendship like i never thought i'd ever have. There was something so special about it. She made me feel like I was worth something...like everything that my father ever told me was lie. She made me feel beautiful and alive. I could finally open up and tell a joke. I told her one day I wanted to wear make up, but I didn't know the first thing about it. We went up to my room and she helped me apply my first eyeliner (that i did willingly), eyeshadow and mascara. When it all was done, she took a step back and gently exhaled and said "breath-taking". I probably blushed like a school girl - but then again, I kinda was one. I began wearing dresses, skirts, girly tops and different shoes. I felt like a butterfly.
Every time my father would threaten my mother or he would call me or make an ass of himself - she was always there. She was never selfish. She was totally worried about me, my sanity and my safety. She found scars on my wrists one day. We talked about why they were there. They were fresh. I showed her my outer thighs that were covered in deep, blood red streaks. Those cuts still burned. She put her hand on my jagged skin, looked me in the eyes and told me they were beautiful. She told me that scars tell a story and they are nothing to be ashamed of. She made me promise that any time i felt like cutting, i would call her first. I promised. One day, I felt like cutting so badly and I called her. She had her mom drive her to my house and she ran up the stairs to my room as I was fighting with a blade. The blade was facing outwards - she could see it, but she didn't care. She covered my sitting form with her body and blade cut her stomach through her shirt. I heard her cry out in pain, but she didn't move. She wouldn't let go of me. I dropped the blade and it landed on the floor between my knees. She held me tighter and I grabbed onto her and cried. Blood soaked through her shirt - she had to have been in a massive amount of pain, but she never showed it. As my crying jag came to a slow halt, she eased away from me. Her blood that had soaked through her shirt had transferred onto my bare stomach. I hated myself for hurting her. She was an angel that was sent to help me. Yet she thought I was the angel sent to help her.
PART 1 A- Friendship: The beginning
Let me tell ya'll about a certain person. I met a girl way back in 2003. She was dating my sister's best friend (who my sister was also totally in love with). This girl was "gothic". She had dark eyes and a mesmerizing smile. She had long, dark hair. She was the most gorgeous girl I had ever seen. She got engaged and then shortly after, she and the guy split. I guess it was a very bloody breakup.
I looked up and saw her standing in the front of the church receiving prayer from the pastor. When I looked into her eyes I could see the pain and the despair rising with each breath she took. I immediately gave her my number and told her to call if she needed anything. I told her I would always be there for her, no matter what. Days went by and I didn't hear from her. So I called her. We began a friendship.
For a year, we danced around each other. I was always there for her. She would scream at me and tell me she didn't love, she didn't need me and she didn't want me around. My usual reply? "Have you eaten?" I never let her words get to me because I knew that she needed someone - maybe not me, but someone. I remember the day she saw him at Eat N Park. My boyfriend and his best friend had come down and we all hung out - my sister included. She saw him and she became paralyzed. i could feel the change in her energy; I could hear the uneasiness in her breaths. She latched onto my shoulders for support because she couldn't stand. I transferred all of my energy directly into her - at least as much as I could without passing out. I calmed her. I held her.
The year was full of interesting events. Applebee's runs, Tominson Run Park walks, Walmart trips for the hell of it... She quickly became my best friend. We'd go to my room and lay on my bed and listen to mix tapes that I had recorded. When Usher, Shania Twain or J-Lo would play, she would sing and I would laugh because it was horridly yet purposely off-key. Yet when a song played that she loved, I would hear her true voice and it was like angels were in my room. I remember taking her to a psychology debate that one of my favorite professors was heading. She asked me all these serious questions and I was able to show her my true intellectual self. She told me I reminded her of Willow from Buffy the Vampire Slayer - powerful yet completely academically dorky and quirky. I had never seen Buffy, so I had no idea who she was talking about. I'd randomly get outta class early and speed to her high school so I could surprise her and pick her up. She'd always ask me "Does my mom know?" and what she never realized is I had always called her mom and asked permission before I even left the college.
I remember the first time she told me she was developing feelings for me. We were on our way out of Raccoon State Park and we stopped on the side of the road, got out of the car and sat on an old, rugged picnic table. She told me that she always liked girls, but that she thought she was falling in love with me. At this point, she had chopped all of her hair off. She had attempted to dye it blonde and it was more of a reddish-orange than blonde. She wearing light blue jeans and a black and pink fairy shirt. Totally different than what she was when we had originally first met. I told her that I was straight and that I couldn't be gay. Homosexuality was wrong in God's eyes, but that wouldn't mean I'd stop hanging out with her. After the light turned dark, we went to dinner - to none other than the famous Applebees.
We were inseparable. I taught her many things and she taught me many things. We found a place of refuge in each other. We found an incredible friendship. She would hold me when I would cry about my father. She would hold me after I told her I was raped. I told her everything about me - my fears, my desires, my wants...everything. I wanted to go to Australia and attend Hillsong International Leadership College. She told me she couldn't bear to be 4 years without me, so she was coming with. We even created avatars and made a book about going and what we would study, where we would stay and what all we had to do before we went. I was going into Counseling and she was going into Youth Ministry. She told me she always wanted to go to Lee University - which was a huge Christian university in Tennessee (maybe it was Kentucky...one of those states). She said she always felt the desire to help young kids and young teenagers. I saw how she interacted with pre-teens and i thought that was an AMAZING idea and she would be sooooo good at it. However, when I told her I wanted to go to Hillsong, she told me that she would come with me and we could embark on the adventure of a new country together - that way i'd be less scared.
It was a friendship like i never thought i'd ever have. There was something so special about it. She made me feel like I was worth something...like everything that my father ever told me was lie. She made me feel beautiful and alive. I could finally open up and tell a joke. I told her one day I wanted to wear make up, but I didn't know the first thing about it. We went up to my room and she helped me apply my first eyeliner (that i did willingly), eyeshadow and mascara. When it all was done, she took a step back and gently exhaled and said "breath-taking". I probably blushed like a school girl - but then again, I kinda was one. I began wearing dresses, skirts, girly tops and different shoes. I felt like a butterfly.
Every time my father would threaten my mother or he would call me or make an ass of himself - she was always there. She was never selfish. She was totally worried about me, my sanity and my safety. She found scars on my wrists one day. We talked about why they were there. They were fresh. I showed her my outer thighs that were covered in deep, blood red streaks. Those cuts still burned. She put her hand on my jagged skin, looked me in the eyes and told me they were beautiful. She told me that scars tell a story and they are nothing to be ashamed of. She made me promise that any time i felt like cutting, i would call her first. I promised. One day, I felt like cutting so badly and I called her. She had her mom drive her to my house and she ran up the stairs to my room as I was fighting with a blade. The blade was facing outwards - she could see it, but she didn't care. She covered my sitting form with her body and blade cut her stomach through her shirt. I heard her cry out in pain, but she didn't move. She wouldn't let go of me. I dropped the blade and it landed on the floor between my knees. She held me tighter and I grabbed onto her and cried. Blood soaked through her shirt - she had to have been in a massive amount of pain, but she never showed it. As my crying jag came to a slow halt, she eased away from me. Her blood that had soaked through her shirt had transferred onto my bare stomach. I hated myself for hurting her. She was an angel that was sent to help me. Yet she thought I was the angel sent to help her.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Triangle Tara
Triangle Tara is well...a doll. A doll for charity. Sound a bit weird? Well, it kinda is, but it's original and that's the one and only thing we can all expect from Amber Benson. Each year around the holiday season, Amber Benson begins to sell the "Triangle Tara" and the first week she is sold, the price is $100 with 100% of all the proceeds go to the LA Food Bank and the remaining time she is sold through the holidays Triangle Tara's price increases to $125 with 50% of the proceeds going directly to the LA. Food Bank.
This year, Amber is also including a few different ways to benefit the LA Food Bank AND at the same time give back to her fans. Not everyone can afford a $100-$125 doll - even if it is for charity. That's just a reality. SO, with that being said, Amber has created a few contests. If you donate $10 or more to the LA. Food Bank AND send your receipt into the email provided on the charity's site, then you will be entered to win a Triangle Tara doll or a mystery prize. Three people will be randomly chosen for these prizes.
If you are like me - broke as hell - there is a way for you to help too! Simply SPREAD THE WORD. Get on Facebook, Twitter, Myspace (who even uses Myspace anymore?), Blogger, LiveJournal, Xanga (again, who uses Xanga?) or any other social medium readily available to you and talk about the charity and the cause for it. Then, email the charity (again, on the email provided listed on the site - which i will list below) and tell Amber where you posted/talked about the charity event. After doing this very minimal task (honestly, if I don't see 10,000 posts about this on Facebook, I'm going to be upset...no one is asking for your left arm), you will be entered to win a signed photo of Amber Benson wearing...wait for it... a Justin Bieber shirt! Ok...ya'll can stop laughing - actually don't, since it is pretty hysterical. However, from Tweets, Amber doesn't have Bieber Fever, it was a scavenger hunt that she got "sucked" into. Regardless, the photo is still pretty funny and is sure to make you - or anyone else for that matter - have at least a smile.
Ok everyone, so you know what to do... Mosey your booty over to...
http://www.loversliarsandlunatics.com/TaraForCharity.htm
and help Amber raise money for food.
This year, Amber is also including a few different ways to benefit the LA Food Bank AND at the same time give back to her fans. Not everyone can afford a $100-$125 doll - even if it is for charity. That's just a reality. SO, with that being said, Amber has created a few contests. If you donate $10 or more to the LA. Food Bank AND send your receipt into the email provided on the charity's site, then you will be entered to win a Triangle Tara doll or a mystery prize. Three people will be randomly chosen for these prizes.
If you are like me - broke as hell - there is a way for you to help too! Simply SPREAD THE WORD. Get on Facebook, Twitter, Myspace (who even uses Myspace anymore?), Blogger, LiveJournal, Xanga (again, who uses Xanga?) or any other social medium readily available to you and talk about the charity and the cause for it. Then, email the charity (again, on the email provided listed on the site - which i will list below) and tell Amber where you posted/talked about the charity event. After doing this very minimal task (honestly, if I don't see 10,000 posts about this on Facebook, I'm going to be upset...no one is asking for your left arm), you will be entered to win a signed photo of Amber Benson wearing...wait for it... a Justin Bieber shirt! Ok...ya'll can stop laughing - actually don't, since it is pretty hysterical. However, from Tweets, Amber doesn't have Bieber Fever, it was a scavenger hunt that she got "sucked" into. Regardless, the photo is still pretty funny and is sure to make you - or anyone else for that matter - have at least a smile.
Ok everyone, so you know what to do... Mosey your booty over to...
http://www.loversliarsandlunatics.com/TaraForCharity.htm
and help Amber raise money for food.
Monday, November 28, 2011
The Sun Will Rise
I've looked over this past week and a half of events and my heart goes out to so many people and then honestly it laughs at others. My girlfriend's grandmother died, my aunt's boyfriend/fiance died, and so many other smaller things happened. I have never been good with death. I guess I look at it differently than most people and a lot of people think that I am cold hearted or arrogant, but I'm not. Like with my girlfriend's grandmother, I feel so bad for the family. I cannot even imagine what Kristen's mom is going through. However, the side that people really look at me and go "you're such a bad person" for is her grandmother had problems and didn't want to take care of herself. The same goes for my aunt's boyfriend. He had so many problems and so many opportunities to take care of himself and he didn't. How can i feel sympathy for a person who literally says to the universe "take me away, life isn't worth living,"?
It's sad that there are so many people in this world that just give up. They don't see the beauty in merely breathing. I know life gets hard and I know that there are times when we all want to give up. I was there, many times before. My father was very abusive and he did things to me that I refuse to tell anyone because I don't want to be that victim. I've dealt with it - 20 years later - but there was a point where i hadn't dealt with it. My teen years were so full of malice, hate, disgust and uncertainty. I remember a friend of mine sold Vicodin at school and she'd give them to me if I did her homework. I'm not proud of my past, but there's a reason it's called "past". I was always looking for ways to dull the pain, to hide the pain, and to be in control of the pain. I started cutting at a young age, but i never cut where people could see. I knew that if it was obvious I would get questioned and I didn't want to be question since it was a form of dealing with what was going on and not a cry for help. Eventually, I was able to suppress that need to control the pain and get on living my life.
However what I just realized as I am writing this is that I had a "medium" that helped me suppress that pain. The week I stopped cutting was the week my first girlfriend kissed me. It's odd how you come to realizations as you type. Things you didn't think about before are suddenly so clear. However, after we broke up, I went back to that place of needing to control the pain, needing to escape the pain and needing to feel something...anything. This time, as I came out of it, I came out of by myself. I didn't have something to hold onto. I realized that cutting, cocaine, alcohol and meaningless sex were worthless to my cause. They quickly became replaced with tears.
Here I am, a 25 year old college "kid" for lack of a better term and I have gathered that life can never throw you something so horrific that you give up on yourself. I look and I see people over 40 who give up daily. I can understand younger people feeling so down and so low that they don't know which way is up. That's all a part of life, growing and learning. I don't understand why people my generation looks up to is setting such a bad example. It's not just about the "not caring if you live or die" part, it's about my generation's parents not caring about themselves in general. They (not all but a lot of them) have set such bad examples for my generation in general. There are so many women who are stuck in a loveless relationship or marriage simply because they are afraid. My mother was one of these people.
For as long as I can remember my father was abusive in some way, shape or form. He would use verbal threats, physical intimidation, emotional pulls, mind-games..etc. I saw my mother - who everyone said was this spitfire of a woman who didn't take shit from anyone - be totally submissive to this domineering man. He had such power over her. He controlled her every move; He controlled my every move. That is until one I had had enough. One day he pushed me just far enough that I snapped. I'll never forget it. He got up in my face about something - a job i think - and I was done. I reached behind me and grabbed the knife that was on the kitchen counter and I pushed him in between the counter and the fridge and I held the knife to his throat and told him that he needed to get the fuck out of my house otherwise I would kill him. I have never felt as much rage in my life as I did that one afternoon. It kind of feels like that one afternoon was about survival instead of just being pissed off.
I can't change what happened to me as a child. I can't change the role models I had growing up. Since my father and my mom split apart, my mom has worked to become this strong, independent, self sufficient, magnificent woman that I look up to. I can't blame her for being oblivious during my childhood. So many women do the exact same thing. However, I refuse to be that woman. Whether my girlfriend and I make it together in this life or not, one thing still stands true...I have a daughter. I am going to be an example to her. No one knows whether love will last - it is a choice. However, being a parent is gift...one that should be held precious and parents should make the most of their lives so their children can see an example.
No one knows what their life is going to entail. No one knows what lies ahead on their journey. It's not a matter of the obstacles that we each face every day. What counts is that we go through them and we learn from them. We are all going to feel incompetent at times. We are all going to feel like we can't go on. However there is nothing worth your life. Your life is precious and many people are affected by just your breathing. Take care of yourself. Do what you are told to do. Love and Love Hard. Never look back. Press on.
"When you feel like the day won't break a sunless night...the sun will rise"
-All my love
It's sad that there are so many people in this world that just give up. They don't see the beauty in merely breathing. I know life gets hard and I know that there are times when we all want to give up. I was there, many times before. My father was very abusive and he did things to me that I refuse to tell anyone because I don't want to be that victim. I've dealt with it - 20 years later - but there was a point where i hadn't dealt with it. My teen years were so full of malice, hate, disgust and uncertainty. I remember a friend of mine sold Vicodin at school and she'd give them to me if I did her homework. I'm not proud of my past, but there's a reason it's called "past". I was always looking for ways to dull the pain, to hide the pain, and to be in control of the pain. I started cutting at a young age, but i never cut where people could see. I knew that if it was obvious I would get questioned and I didn't want to be question since it was a form of dealing with what was going on and not a cry for help. Eventually, I was able to suppress that need to control the pain and get on living my life.
However what I just realized as I am writing this is that I had a "medium" that helped me suppress that pain. The week I stopped cutting was the week my first girlfriend kissed me. It's odd how you come to realizations as you type. Things you didn't think about before are suddenly so clear. However, after we broke up, I went back to that place of needing to control the pain, needing to escape the pain and needing to feel something...anything. This time, as I came out of it, I came out of by myself. I didn't have something to hold onto. I realized that cutting, cocaine, alcohol and meaningless sex were worthless to my cause. They quickly became replaced with tears.
Here I am, a 25 year old college "kid" for lack of a better term and I have gathered that life can never throw you something so horrific that you give up on yourself. I look and I see people over 40 who give up daily. I can understand younger people feeling so down and so low that they don't know which way is up. That's all a part of life, growing and learning. I don't understand why people my generation looks up to is setting such a bad example. It's not just about the "not caring if you live or die" part, it's about my generation's parents not caring about themselves in general. They (not all but a lot of them) have set such bad examples for my generation in general. There are so many women who are stuck in a loveless relationship or marriage simply because they are afraid. My mother was one of these people.
For as long as I can remember my father was abusive in some way, shape or form. He would use verbal threats, physical intimidation, emotional pulls, mind-games..etc. I saw my mother - who everyone said was this spitfire of a woman who didn't take shit from anyone - be totally submissive to this domineering man. He had such power over her. He controlled her every move; He controlled my every move. That is until one I had had enough. One day he pushed me just far enough that I snapped. I'll never forget it. He got up in my face about something - a job i think - and I was done. I reached behind me and grabbed the knife that was on the kitchen counter and I pushed him in between the counter and the fridge and I held the knife to his throat and told him that he needed to get the fuck out of my house otherwise I would kill him. I have never felt as much rage in my life as I did that one afternoon. It kind of feels like that one afternoon was about survival instead of just being pissed off.
I can't change what happened to me as a child. I can't change the role models I had growing up. Since my father and my mom split apart, my mom has worked to become this strong, independent, self sufficient, magnificent woman that I look up to. I can't blame her for being oblivious during my childhood. So many women do the exact same thing. However, I refuse to be that woman. Whether my girlfriend and I make it together in this life or not, one thing still stands true...I have a daughter. I am going to be an example to her. No one knows whether love will last - it is a choice. However, being a parent is gift...one that should be held precious and parents should make the most of their lives so their children can see an example.
No one knows what their life is going to entail. No one knows what lies ahead on their journey. It's not a matter of the obstacles that we each face every day. What counts is that we go through them and we learn from them. We are all going to feel incompetent at times. We are all going to feel like we can't go on. However there is nothing worth your life. Your life is precious and many people are affected by just your breathing. Take care of yourself. Do what you are told to do. Love and Love Hard. Never look back. Press on.
"When you feel like the day won't break a sunless night...the sun will rise"
-All my love
Monday, November 21, 2011
The Definition of the Phrase "I'm Behind You"
To Be Behind You Means:
~I can cheer you on
~I can push you at something I know you want and need to go for
~I can catch you when you lose your balance and begin to fall
~It means I can kick you in the butt or slap you upside the back of your head when you've done something really stupid
~I can catch things that you didn't see coming
~I can help guide you when you are lost
~I can keep you balanced when you are unsteady
~and anytime you need a shoulder to cry on, all you have to do is turn around.
~I can cheer you on
~I can push you at something I know you want and need to go for
~I can catch you when you lose your balance and begin to fall
~It means I can kick you in the butt or slap you upside the back of your head when you've done something really stupid
~I can catch things that you didn't see coming
~I can help guide you when you are lost
~I can keep you balanced when you are unsteady
~and anytime you need a shoulder to cry on, all you have to do is turn around.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
The Heartbreak of 4 seconds....
Yesterday was the game of all games. It was the first time I went to college football game...my college's football game. I have always wanted to be a part of something so grand, so magnificent as the whole university-team oriented idea and then the first time I was able to be a part of the university-spirit "game-day" experience, I think I went through so many emotions in a four hour period than most people have in a month's time. Even though we lost, by literally a touchdown that we almost made - don't get me started on the rant - it was still a very enlightening and enjoyable experience. I had more fun at that one game than I have had in a long time. It shocked me a little because I was with my co-workers and so I tried to reserve myself until I heard one of the girls say "fuck" during one play and "pussy" at the end of the next play. So, I eventually let my walls down and joined into the occasional (well more like frequent) "What the fuck are you doing????" screams from the stands.
After the game, I went down an exit that I shouldn't have - just needed to get out of the stadium because I was so pissed off at how horrible we played, I mean it was JUST U of A - and I wound up at the other side of the stadium which happened to place me almost three miles from my car. After adjusting to my surroundings, I finally figured out where I was and which direction I needed to head in, however due to the mountain that was placed directly in my "shortest distance between two points" thought, I had to take a detour. As I passed by most of the college-town bars, I heard a group of college guys screaming and hollering obscene and vulgar phrases towards a U of A cheerleader who was trying to do the same thing I was....get to her car. When I noticed that they were going to start to follow her, I quickened my pace, dug deep inside myself and created a magickal barrier between the two of us and the "horn brigade" . I followed her at a safe distance throughout the rest of the streets until I saw that she had reached her small economy sized car unharmed and was quickly driving out of the parking lot. I then noticed that I was not too far from my own and I continued on my path to my vehicle.
Some would ask "why did you follow her? Aren't you a sun devil?" Well, regardless that I am a Sun Devil - please make sure it is capitalized - as a strong, protective woman I feel it is my duty to make sure she was unharmed. I followed her at a safe distance because I did not want to alarm the poor girl at what I had witnessed. I take my duties as a Sun Devil to heart, but just because I am completely school spirited does not mean that I would ignore the possible harm towards a girl who simply goes to a different school than I.
Has our world become so egotistical that we are all only one-sided? I would have thought as humans we are four dimensional people and that we take on the responsibility to look out for and protect one another but I guess in a world filled with bias and hate, we cling to those who are like-minded and fuck the rest of society because they do not believe how we believe or behave how we behave. I've noticed this act of inhumanity to be mostly the Christians or other highly religious people for those are the ones asking me the questions. For a group of people who believe God put us on this earth for a purpose, the group as a whole is very...well...mean.
I have met more people who are kind, compassionate and over all enjoy helping society as a whole and they consider themselves to be Satanists! Having been brought up in the "church" I learned many things but the one thing that sticks out in my head is the complete legalism and smug attitudes that the church as a whole has. "Come as you are, we will accept you. But if in a couple months you don't change, then we want our NIV Bible back". Come on! Seriously? Who the fuck do you think you are and how dare you tell me that I need to change when you sit in your pew every Sunday morning, Sunday night and Wednesday night but yet on those other days you sit and gossip about what Kathy G did on Saturday night with another single man (or woman for that matter) and then on Monday morning you give your assistant those "goo goo" eyes and undress her with your mind even though your wife is sitting at home taking care of your kids and your house!
So what is the heartbreak of four seconds? Its that pivotal moment when everyone is watching you. Everyone is staring at you hoping that you will catch that ball and land in the endzone and make them proud. Its that point in your life where you can do what everyone else is begging you to do. Do what everyone else is telling you to do. Its that point where you have done everything you are supposed to and now...at this point...you are caught in a mix of confusion between who you want to be and who you are. Its the first time you pick up a Wiccan book and start at the cover as you cling to the cross that hangs lightly on your neck. Its the first time a girl leans in towards your cherry glossed lips and you know you should back away but you find yourself leaning closer towards her. In that moment your mind does two things. You either become scared and bolt in the other direction or you give into your emotions and allow yourself to be freed of the constraints that bound you so tightly.
In that moment when you decide to follow your own mind and you feel her lips against yours, you read about the power energy, or you proceed in any act of which you only thought about, your heart breaks if just only for a second. The heartbreak of the four second contemplation tears a person's inner being between following the critera for the box they have been closed into and being an individual free to do their own will without the repercussions of hatred. However, I am sorry to be the messenger on this - regardless of what you do, you will always be the subject of some type of hatred. You are not perfect and therefore because you will never be this ideal image of what someone has created you out to be, you will never live up to everyone else's expectations for you. Be happy in your decisions, even if they lead you away from things you have previously known. It is hard and it is daunting. You will cry and you will scream, but in the end you must be happy with yourself. Don't let fear paralyze you. Embrace the change and cradle the new. Eventually you will learn to create yourself.
After the game, I went down an exit that I shouldn't have - just needed to get out of the stadium because I was so pissed off at how horrible we played, I mean it was JUST U of A - and I wound up at the other side of the stadium which happened to place me almost three miles from my car. After adjusting to my surroundings, I finally figured out where I was and which direction I needed to head in, however due to the mountain that was placed directly in my "shortest distance between two points" thought, I had to take a detour. As I passed by most of the college-town bars, I heard a group of college guys screaming and hollering obscene and vulgar phrases towards a U of A cheerleader who was trying to do the same thing I was....get to her car. When I noticed that they were going to start to follow her, I quickened my pace, dug deep inside myself and created a magickal barrier between the two of us and the "horn brigade" . I followed her at a safe distance throughout the rest of the streets until I saw that she had reached her small economy sized car unharmed and was quickly driving out of the parking lot. I then noticed that I was not too far from my own and I continued on my path to my vehicle.
Some would ask "why did you follow her? Aren't you a sun devil?" Well, regardless that I am a Sun Devil - please make sure it is capitalized - as a strong, protective woman I feel it is my duty to make sure she was unharmed. I followed her at a safe distance because I did not want to alarm the poor girl at what I had witnessed. I take my duties as a Sun Devil to heart, but just because I am completely school spirited does not mean that I would ignore the possible harm towards a girl who simply goes to a different school than I.
Has our world become so egotistical that we are all only one-sided? I would have thought as humans we are four dimensional people and that we take on the responsibility to look out for and protect one another but I guess in a world filled with bias and hate, we cling to those who are like-minded and fuck the rest of society because they do not believe how we believe or behave how we behave. I've noticed this act of inhumanity to be mostly the Christians or other highly religious people for those are the ones asking me the questions. For a group of people who believe God put us on this earth for a purpose, the group as a whole is very...well...mean.
I have met more people who are kind, compassionate and over all enjoy helping society as a whole and they consider themselves to be Satanists! Having been brought up in the "church" I learned many things but the one thing that sticks out in my head is the complete legalism and smug attitudes that the church as a whole has. "Come as you are, we will accept you. But if in a couple months you don't change, then we want our NIV Bible back". Come on! Seriously? Who the fuck do you think you are and how dare you tell me that I need to change when you sit in your pew every Sunday morning, Sunday night and Wednesday night but yet on those other days you sit and gossip about what Kathy G did on Saturday night with another single man (or woman for that matter) and then on Monday morning you give your assistant those "goo goo" eyes and undress her with your mind even though your wife is sitting at home taking care of your kids and your house!
So what is the heartbreak of four seconds? Its that pivotal moment when everyone is watching you. Everyone is staring at you hoping that you will catch that ball and land in the endzone and make them proud. Its that point in your life where you can do what everyone else is begging you to do. Do what everyone else is telling you to do. Its that point where you have done everything you are supposed to and now...at this point...you are caught in a mix of confusion between who you want to be and who you are. Its the first time you pick up a Wiccan book and start at the cover as you cling to the cross that hangs lightly on your neck. Its the first time a girl leans in towards your cherry glossed lips and you know you should back away but you find yourself leaning closer towards her. In that moment your mind does two things. You either become scared and bolt in the other direction or you give into your emotions and allow yourself to be freed of the constraints that bound you so tightly.
In that moment when you decide to follow your own mind and you feel her lips against yours, you read about the power energy, or you proceed in any act of which you only thought about, your heart breaks if just only for a second. The heartbreak of the four second contemplation tears a person's inner being between following the critera for the box they have been closed into and being an individual free to do their own will without the repercussions of hatred. However, I am sorry to be the messenger on this - regardless of what you do, you will always be the subject of some type of hatred. You are not perfect and therefore because you will never be this ideal image of what someone has created you out to be, you will never live up to everyone else's expectations for you. Be happy in your decisions, even if they lead you away from things you have previously known. It is hard and it is daunting. You will cry and you will scream, but in the end you must be happy with yourself. Don't let fear paralyze you. Embrace the change and cradle the new. Eventually you will learn to create yourself.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
There always has to be a first post....
A first post is almost more nerve racking than a blind date. You're not sure if the readers will be interested, not sure if they will even like what you have to say and you're never sure exactly how to start. You want to tell a bit about yourself...you know...introduce yourself, but yet you don't want to divulge all the mystery behind the layers of the years that have covered you. Each day we are inspired by so many objects, people, places, words, conformity...non conformity and just the individual details that life throws at us on a daily basis. Lately I have been incredibly inspired by the beautiful and talented Amber Benson. I have always been a fan of her work and yes I can tell the difference between reality and fiction, unlike most people who box her into her character, Tara, from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. She does not know it, but I have followed her work for years and she has always inspired me to just...be me.
I know that I am only one voice. I am not famous, I am still working through college and I have barely any foothold in this vast world that I live in. However, I have much to say. There are many passions that ignite my being and this is a safe place where I am able to share those thoughts and opinions and possibly help those who cannot help themselves or who do not know how to help themselves. As we grow older we face so many different questions and different situations all piling down and condensing together to form one major idea that we must embrace..."Who am I?"
I have spent years which seem like lifetimes trying to answer this question. I always saw myself as some major contradiction, however, recently I have been told that I am not a contradiction. Instead, I am eclectic. I like that terminology....eclectic. I can be many things at one time even though in some people's narrow minds those things cannot coexist, however, I am living proof that they most certainly can and do exist in a single living soul. I can be many things wrapped up into one, even if they do raise an eyebrow or two.
My life is a mix of colors...a mix of roles that I play. I have repressed parts of myself up until now because I felt that I had to chose one belief or the other in order to be an actual person instead of a contradiction. However, I have learned most recently that not being 100% honest with myself is the same as lying to myself and after almost 26 years of only being a half-me, I'm tired of lying.
I am a mother. I am a daughter. I am a sister. I am a wife. I am a lover. I am a fighter. I am a writer. I am an analyst. I am a student. I am a teacher. I am pre-med. I am a Christian. I am a Wiccan. I am a lesbian. I am activist. I am an advocate. I am a helper. I am a haven. I am shelter. I am life. I am power. I am knowledge. I am wisdom. I am from my past. I am from my present. I am from my future. Most importantly, I am myself. For now, forever, and for always. No going back. No regrets. No lying. No deceiving. Just me. Plain. Simple. Magnificent. Extraordinary. I have something to give. I have something to say. I have a way to change the life that we know. I will change the life that we know. In my own time.
I know that I am only one voice. I am not famous, I am still working through college and I have barely any foothold in this vast world that I live in. However, I have much to say. There are many passions that ignite my being and this is a safe place where I am able to share those thoughts and opinions and possibly help those who cannot help themselves or who do not know how to help themselves. As we grow older we face so many different questions and different situations all piling down and condensing together to form one major idea that we must embrace..."Who am I?"
I have spent years which seem like lifetimes trying to answer this question. I always saw myself as some major contradiction, however, recently I have been told that I am not a contradiction. Instead, I am eclectic. I like that terminology....eclectic. I can be many things at one time even though in some people's narrow minds those things cannot coexist, however, I am living proof that they most certainly can and do exist in a single living soul. I can be many things wrapped up into one, even if they do raise an eyebrow or two.
My life is a mix of colors...a mix of roles that I play. I have repressed parts of myself up until now because I felt that I had to chose one belief or the other in order to be an actual person instead of a contradiction. However, I have learned most recently that not being 100% honest with myself is the same as lying to myself and after almost 26 years of only being a half-me, I'm tired of lying.
I am a mother. I am a daughter. I am a sister. I am a wife. I am a lover. I am a fighter. I am a writer. I am an analyst. I am a student. I am a teacher. I am pre-med. I am a Christian. I am a Wiccan. I am a lesbian. I am activist. I am an advocate. I am a helper. I am a haven. I am shelter. I am life. I am power. I am knowledge. I am wisdom. I am from my past. I am from my present. I am from my future. Most importantly, I am myself. For now, forever, and for always. No going back. No regrets. No lying. No deceiving. Just me. Plain. Simple. Magnificent. Extraordinary. I have something to give. I have something to say. I have a way to change the life that we know. I will change the life that we know. In my own time.
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