I'm one of those strange people who would rather go through bags of used clothes than go shopping at a clothing shop. I love people's old clothes. And, I have a hard time giving up clothes - I get attached to certain items and just can't get rid of them.
But, about 6 months to a year ago, I finally went through all my clothes and got rid of the things that didn't fit. Granted, there were a few articles I kept even though it'll be a cold day in hell before I ever fit into them again. But, for the most part, I did get rid of them. And, as is tradition, once that pile is sorted out from the keepers, it's a free for all. The girls can snag whatever they want. And, this usually dwindles the pile down by at least half.
Today, my 15 year old informs me she just went through her clothes, and had already given her younger sis a go at the pile of give-aways. Yay! My turn! I took a good half of what was left of the pile... including several pairs of jeans/pants that she had taken from my pile a year ago. Ah it feels good to have lost 15 pounds since I last gave away clothes. Not that I could fit into most of those jeans still.... 4 years ago, I was a size 3/4... then I gained 30 pounds.And yes, I've lost half of that now... but that's still 15 pounds heavier than a size 3/4. Ah well. I will get there again. Somehow. Someday. Maybe.
But, that aside... I had a great time going through the clothes... and got several adorable new outfits without having to spend a dime. And the great thing - these clothes are already worn in. I do so love used clothes.
Today's Playlist:
BBMak: Pretty much the entire Sooner or Later CD
And, when Caity and I were out walking around...:
Florida Georgia Line - "Cruise"
Casey James - "Crying on a Suitcase"
Gloriana - "Can't Shake You"
Saturday, February 23, 2013
Friday, February 22, 2013
I just can't stop... :)
The family is all in the other room watching the movie Ted. I made it through the first 30 minutes before I just couldn't take any more. That is such an awful movie. I hate movies which have so much senseless swearing and disgusting jokes and drug use and sex and blah... it was just horrible. So, I came into my room. And I wrote my sermon for the night. While drinking a glass of experimental wine.
And oh my heavens is that experimental wine so horrific. It's almost as bad as the movie I couldn't finish watching. Well, obviously not that bad considering a) I'm still not watching the rest of the movie and b) I did go get another glass of this terrifying liquid. But, it almost takes like pee... not that I know what pee tastes like.... but I imagine it's probably better than this stuff.
So what kind of wine am I drinking? It's made out of cherry juice and sweet tea. See, a few weeks ago, I made a wine out of sweet tea and SodaStream Half & Half (half lemonade/half tea). And that was the BEST wine I've ever tasted. So I saw this half bottle of cherry juice in our fridge and no one liked it/wanted to drink it. So I figured I'd try it out with sweet tea. And, that's the last time I'll be doing that. Although, I do have to say, I think this is the strongest wine I've made... it's kind of kicking my arse right now.
In other news... Have you ever been hit with a hint so unsubtle, it knocked you on your ass? Yeah. I'm a little slow... I probably should have picked up on the subtler hints months ago. But well, when you have a supposed friend say "don't you have someone else you can talk to?"... yup, hint taken. Sorry it took me so long. Now, please go fuck yourself. :)
One question I have - why do people feel the need to so consistently point out their belief that there is no God? I mean seriously... even if I didn't believe in God, I would be completely annoyed by the behavior of these people. It's almost like they have to consistently say this to remind themselves... It's almost like they find themselves almost believing and it scares them, so they post something stupid online condemning believers and "proving" there is no God, or simply insulting believers and God. It just gets so annoying and stupid. Grow up. Seriously.
If you don't believe in God, or in a higher power, or anything else, fine. That's your prerogative. But you really don't need to annoyingly point this out every other hour. I do believe... and with the exception of sharing my sermon posts when I write them, I don't feel the need to consistently try to change your mind on religion... so don't try to change mine. See how that works? Pretty cool, huh?
So... what else can I babble about?
Ohhh! I cleaned my room today. Well, most of it. I at least put away the 6 large piles of folded clothes that took up 1/4 of my room. And, straightened up the mess of paintings, paint, easels, paint pallets, crafty things, etc that took up another 1/4 of my room. It's kind of funny... this is my husband's and my room.... we have two dressers and a fairly large closer... of which he has 1/2 of one dresser and about 1 foot of closet rod space. Actually, it's probably closer to 6 inches of closet space if you consider the fact that I've stolen the clothes of his which take up the other 6 inches. I love men's shirts :) Especially flannel shirts. Not the lady flannel shirts either - those are too girly. I like just a nice large man's flannel shirt. They make good pj's too. Yup, just the flannel shirt.
And... I can't think of anything more to babble at the moment. So, I shall hush :)
And oh my heavens is that experimental wine so horrific. It's almost as bad as the movie I couldn't finish watching. Well, obviously not that bad considering a) I'm still not watching the rest of the movie and b) I did go get another glass of this terrifying liquid. But, it almost takes like pee... not that I know what pee tastes like.... but I imagine it's probably better than this stuff.
So what kind of wine am I drinking? It's made out of cherry juice and sweet tea. See, a few weeks ago, I made a wine out of sweet tea and SodaStream Half & Half (half lemonade/half tea). And that was the BEST wine I've ever tasted. So I saw this half bottle of cherry juice in our fridge and no one liked it/wanted to drink it. So I figured I'd try it out with sweet tea. And, that's the last time I'll be doing that. Although, I do have to say, I think this is the strongest wine I've made... it's kind of kicking my arse right now.
In other news... Have you ever been hit with a hint so unsubtle, it knocked you on your ass? Yeah. I'm a little slow... I probably should have picked up on the subtler hints months ago. But well, when you have a supposed friend say "don't you have someone else you can talk to?"... yup, hint taken. Sorry it took me so long. Now, please go fuck yourself. :)
One question I have - why do people feel the need to so consistently point out their belief that there is no God? I mean seriously... even if I didn't believe in God, I would be completely annoyed by the behavior of these people. It's almost like they have to consistently say this to remind themselves... It's almost like they find themselves almost believing and it scares them, so they post something stupid online condemning believers and "proving" there is no God, or simply insulting believers and God. It just gets so annoying and stupid. Grow up. Seriously.
If you don't believe in God, or in a higher power, or anything else, fine. That's your prerogative. But you really don't need to annoyingly point this out every other hour. I do believe... and with the exception of sharing my sermon posts when I write them, I don't feel the need to consistently try to change your mind on religion... so don't try to change mine. See how that works? Pretty cool, huh?
So... what else can I babble about?
Ohhh! I cleaned my room today. Well, most of it. I at least put away the 6 large piles of folded clothes that took up 1/4 of my room. And, straightened up the mess of paintings, paint, easels, paint pallets, crafty things, etc that took up another 1/4 of my room. It's kind of funny... this is my husband's and my room.... we have two dressers and a fairly large closer... of which he has 1/2 of one dresser and about 1 foot of closet rod space. Actually, it's probably closer to 6 inches of closet space if you consider the fact that I've stolen the clothes of his which take up the other 6 inches. I love men's shirts :) Especially flannel shirts. Not the lady flannel shirts either - those are too girly. I like just a nice large man's flannel shirt. They make good pj's too. Yup, just the flannel shirt.
And... I can't think of anything more to babble at the moment. So, I shall hush :)
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Don't Read This Post!
Why? you ask.
For no reason whatsoever, other than the fact that no one reads my blogs anyway, so if I tell you all not to read it, than it was my decision and not that you all turned your back on me. Make sense? Yeah, I didn't think so either. But, for now we'll go along with that.
So, what is up with me? you ask. Not a whole lot. I probably should consider going to sleep, but as it's not even 11 yet, and I haven't gone to bed before midnight (usually closer to 1 or 2) for the past two weeks, I figure - why start now? Besides, I had a nap just a little bit ago.
I went to church today... and got to do sunday school... which actually just consisted of singing and crafts (no lesson today)... and consisted of only one kid. Yup, that was exciting. Although, she's a good kid... and we made cute little magnets.
I wrote another sermon today (have been doing so every day since Wednesday... it's a new Lent thing for me that I'm trying). Of course, last night, I wrote a smut story.... wrote a sermon about sin (particularly the sin of lust in thoughts)... then wrote part two of the smut story. Part 2, in my opinion, was much better. How wrong is it though to write a sex story than write about how wrong it is to think about sex? Interesting. I should probably be stoned. Or burned at the stake. Or something.
I also realized that I'm rather annoying. That's the only explanation I can come up with for why certain people disappear whenever I appear online. I really shouldn't be surprised by this. Telling someone you hate them may develop into feelings of wanting to abandon said hater. And really. I don't even care. I don't know why I ever tried to pretend to care. That's not who I am. It's not what I am. It's not why I am.
Hmmmm... why am I? Strange question. Why am I what? Why am I here? Why am I alive? Why am I psychotic? Why am I unworthy of the love of a friend? Why am I not writing another smut story right now? OOoo! I have an idea for a new one. Three-some anyone?
Not sure I could ever take part in a three-some. That's too many bodies/parts to keep track of. I can barely survive just two people involved... not that I even recall how that goes. I am capable of handling just one person involved, however.
And now I am completely veering off topic. Which, is actually quite acceptable as there is absolutely no topic to this post. Oh - and for anyone who may be reading this who knows me.... I'm really not me. And everything within this post is a lie. And none of it should be seen by the public. I'm really just throwing things into this post to see a) who actually reads it; b) who has the balls to say something to my face; c) how quickly someone on the other side of town hears about what is written here - although by the time it gets to someone else, none of what is gossiped will actually be written here. It'll probably turn into some... "omg! she had a three-some in a church and ended up starting a fire and getting burned by the cross..."
Ooooh! Three-some in a church! How bad would it be to write a smut story like that? Of course, I believe on the Garden blog, I already have a story or two which takes place inside a church.
But anyway, before I go forth and write something which is probably blasphemous, and could end up being a one way ticket to hell, I must first go forth and finish my laundry, lest I end up arriving at work in the nude.
Good night my dear sweet followers. And by the way, if you read this - shame on you! Punishment shall await you.
For no reason whatsoever, other than the fact that no one reads my blogs anyway, so if I tell you all not to read it, than it was my decision and not that you all turned your back on me. Make sense? Yeah, I didn't think so either. But, for now we'll go along with that.
So, what is up with me? you ask. Not a whole lot. I probably should consider going to sleep, but as it's not even 11 yet, and I haven't gone to bed before midnight (usually closer to 1 or 2) for the past two weeks, I figure - why start now? Besides, I had a nap just a little bit ago.
I went to church today... and got to do sunday school... which actually just consisted of singing and crafts (no lesson today)... and consisted of only one kid. Yup, that was exciting. Although, she's a good kid... and we made cute little magnets.
I wrote another sermon today (have been doing so every day since Wednesday... it's a new Lent thing for me that I'm trying). Of course, last night, I wrote a smut story.... wrote a sermon about sin (particularly the sin of lust in thoughts)... then wrote part two of the smut story. Part 2, in my opinion, was much better. How wrong is it though to write a sex story than write about how wrong it is to think about sex? Interesting. I should probably be stoned. Or burned at the stake. Or something.
I also realized that I'm rather annoying. That's the only explanation I can come up with for why certain people disappear whenever I appear online. I really shouldn't be surprised by this. Telling someone you hate them may develop into feelings of wanting to abandon said hater. And really. I don't even care. I don't know why I ever tried to pretend to care. That's not who I am. It's not what I am. It's not why I am.
Hmmmm... why am I? Strange question. Why am I what? Why am I here? Why am I alive? Why am I psychotic? Why am I unworthy of the love of a friend? Why am I not writing another smut story right now? OOoo! I have an idea for a new one. Three-some anyone?
Not sure I could ever take part in a three-some. That's too many bodies/parts to keep track of. I can barely survive just two people involved... not that I even recall how that goes. I am capable of handling just one person involved, however.
And now I am completely veering off topic. Which, is actually quite acceptable as there is absolutely no topic to this post. Oh - and for anyone who may be reading this who knows me.... I'm really not me. And everything within this post is a lie. And none of it should be seen by the public. I'm really just throwing things into this post to see a) who actually reads it; b) who has the balls to say something to my face; c) how quickly someone on the other side of town hears about what is written here - although by the time it gets to someone else, none of what is gossiped will actually be written here. It'll probably turn into some... "omg! she had a three-some in a church and ended up starting a fire and getting burned by the cross..."
Ooooh! Three-some in a church! How bad would it be to write a smut story like that? Of course, I believe on the Garden blog, I already have a story or two which takes place inside a church.
But anyway, before I go forth and write something which is probably blasphemous, and could end up being a one way ticket to hell, I must first go forth and finish my laundry, lest I end up arriving at work in the nude.
Good night my dear sweet followers. And by the way, if you read this - shame on you! Punishment shall await you.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Secret Identity
I was in 7th of 8th grade when Samantha Adams was first introduced to me and my friends. If you asked her, she was fairly short, slender, long blonde hair, pretty, and incredibly sweet and athletic. She got along with most everyone, and had a couple boys she was interested in. By 9th grade, she was quite popular. There was just one small flaw with her... she didn't exist.
That's right. Samantha Adams - Sami to her friends - was a figment of my imagination. I can't recall how or why she was invented. I believe she was simply a character from a short story of mine. But no matter - she was great. She used to leave notes in the lockers of a couple boys I had crushes on (Nate and Tony.... poor poor boys). Eventually she was tucked away... or, rather, moved to either Wisconsin or Pennsylvania or something. But, she has been known to come out every now and then (Of course, now that she's being made public, I suppose I can't use her again).
So why do I bring up Sami?
A few weeks ago, I noticed a friend of mine add a couple friends to facebook. But, I was a bit suspicious of these "friends." It was fairly obvious they weren't real. But the person who had done this didn't strike me as the type to have any secret identities. So, I brushed it off as me simply being paranoid and assuming everyone is as psychotic as myself.
I brushed it off... until tonight. Tonight I was browsing another site and found this friend had an account there. And while the friend used her real name, her profile name was different... and had the same last name as the friend she'd added to facebook. Quite interesting indeed. Why on earth would this person create a profile under an assumed name?
I know why I did it in Junior High School - I was a silly stupid teenager who wanted to let a guy know I had a crush on him, without me actually doing the talking. And, I know why Sami came back many years later - she was spying on a friend (well.... was going to spy... it didn't work so well, and she ended up blocked from the site). But this person? Quite interesting indeed.
There are some people you just assume do not lie. And this is one of those people.
But, I have learned that everyone lies. Everyone is willing to deceive another for one reason or another. Everyone has something to hide.
Everyone has a secret identity they only show certain people, and for certain reasons, and others will never know who or what this identity is.
Of course, I am not one to judge. In addition to Sami, there was also my imaginary boyfriend Johnny (he was a drug dealer from Florida)... and Johnny's twin brother Jason (he was a manager of a porn studio). And then there have been my multitude of online screen names and my pen names.
And yet, with all the secret identities I've had, this one... this friend... the thought just makes me shake my head and wonder.
What do you have to hide?
That's right. Samantha Adams - Sami to her friends - was a figment of my imagination. I can't recall how or why she was invented. I believe she was simply a character from a short story of mine. But no matter - she was great. She used to leave notes in the lockers of a couple boys I had crushes on (Nate and Tony.... poor poor boys). Eventually she was tucked away... or, rather, moved to either Wisconsin or Pennsylvania or something. But, she has been known to come out every now and then (Of course, now that she's being made public, I suppose I can't use her again).
So why do I bring up Sami?
A few weeks ago, I noticed a friend of mine add a couple friends to facebook. But, I was a bit suspicious of these "friends." It was fairly obvious they weren't real. But the person who had done this didn't strike me as the type to have any secret identities. So, I brushed it off as me simply being paranoid and assuming everyone is as psychotic as myself.
I brushed it off... until tonight. Tonight I was browsing another site and found this friend had an account there. And while the friend used her real name, her profile name was different... and had the same last name as the friend she'd added to facebook. Quite interesting indeed. Why on earth would this person create a profile under an assumed name?
I know why I did it in Junior High School - I was a silly stupid teenager who wanted to let a guy know I had a crush on him, without me actually doing the talking. And, I know why Sami came back many years later - she was spying on a friend (well.... was going to spy... it didn't work so well, and she ended up blocked from the site). But this person? Quite interesting indeed.
There are some people you just assume do not lie. And this is one of those people.
But, I have learned that everyone lies. Everyone is willing to deceive another for one reason or another. Everyone has something to hide.
Everyone has a secret identity they only show certain people, and for certain reasons, and others will never know who or what this identity is.
Of course, I am not one to judge. In addition to Sami, there was also my imaginary boyfriend Johnny (he was a drug dealer from Florida)... and Johnny's twin brother Jason (he was a manager of a porn studio). And then there have been my multitude of online screen names and my pen names.
And yet, with all the secret identities I've had, this one... this friend... the thought just makes me shake my head and wonder.
What do you have to hide?
Friday, February 8, 2013
Give Me Something
I sit here, staring at this white screen, trying to come up with something to say. Something earth-shattering to spill from my fingers. Or, perhaps it isn't earth-shattering that I am looking for. Perhaps what I am looking for is simply something that will shatter you - your heart, your soul, your obnoxious self-control. Perhaps it is simply something that will make you cry, or hurt, or show some anger.
I want to come up with some biting phrase that will rattle you. A paragraph that will drive you to tears. A page that will make you want to smash your screen into bits. Or maybe make you want to grab me and either shake me or kiss me - or perhaps both.
But, I know this is a silly endeavor. I know there is nothing I could do to elicit any form of impassioned response. Or any form of impassive response. Or any response whatsoever. This would require some emotion. Some form of actual feeling towards me, be that feeling love or hate. Yet there is nothing. I know this. I hate it. But I know this.
And so I sit here, staring at this white screen, trying to come up with something to say. Something intellectual to spill from my fingers. Something that will stir a desire from you to discuss something meaningful. Yet even this turns up nothing. It's all dark and blank and non-existent. It's all simply dead. If it were even ever alive.
I don't think it was. I think it was all a lie. It never existed. It never held any truth. It was simply a string of lies, but for what purpose?
-------------------------------------------
I was watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer earlier tonight. Actually, we were watching the musical - and fast-forwarding to the songs we liked best. Spike. Ahh how I do love Spike. There is so much passion within him. But, there is also love.
At the risk of sounding like a sadly pathetic Buffy fan (which, I am)...
Buffy had two main men (love affair men... not men in general) in her life (I don't count Riley simply because, I didn't like him): Angel, and Spike. Many people argue that Angel was the better love...the truer love. I don't agree with this. Angel had a soul. Everything he did was because of this. He helped Buffy, because he had to. Those of you with a soul... with a conscience... should understand this. You do good things because otherwise you're wracked with guilt. But Spike? He had no conscience.... no soul. And yet he still loved her. He still helped her. He did things for her because of a love that went deeper than a simple soul.
I think this is the kind of love we all desire.... a love that is there not because someone has to love us. I don't want someone to love me simply because they feel this is what they're supposed to do. I don't want someone to be here for me just because their conscience tells them they should be. I don't want someone to pretend to care just because otherwise they might feel some sense of guilt. Or because they feel some sense of responsibility.
I want to be loved, and held, and heard because that is what someone wants to do. I want to be loved, and held, and heard for no reason other than the other person wants to love and hold and listen.
Perhaps this is too much to expect.
-------------------------------------------
It's very simple, you know. Just a few small words. Two would suffice. "Shut up." Or, you could go with three... "Leave me alone." Or, perhaps you prefer being a bit wordier - to soften the blow a little. "I do care about you, but I think... blah blah blah." But seriously, any of these will work. Just don't pretend. Stop pretending. Stop acting. You aren't good at it. And to care just because you think that's what is expected of you? That's just stupid. It's a waste of your time, and mine.
And so I ask of you... put something on this blank screen. Something for me to read. Give me some truth to absorb. Give me a reason.
Ah, even as I say the words "give me some truth", I know within myself that I don't want truth. I want what I want to hear. I want to dream. Or, at least, part of me does. But, I don't want this as a lie... I want the dream to be the truth. This reminds me of a sonnet I wrote many years ago. Well, actually, it only reminds me of the last two lines. And, because the rest of the sonnet really sucks, I shall only post the last two lines. From Sonnet 1, written 11/2/92...
"And now I ask of you, my readers dear—
What you do think, yet what I long to hear."
Ah! I also like the last two lines of Sonnet 10, written sometime in 1999...
"Truth and dreams both whisper desperate pleas
And yet here lies the lies of memories."
And with that, I slowly and quietly slink into the shadows...
-----------------------------------
Tonight's Playlist:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer - The Musical...
- Rest in Peace
- Standing in the Way
- Walk Through the Fire
- Life's a Show
I want to come up with some biting phrase that will rattle you. A paragraph that will drive you to tears. A page that will make you want to smash your screen into bits. Or maybe make you want to grab me and either shake me or kiss me - or perhaps both.
But, I know this is a silly endeavor. I know there is nothing I could do to elicit any form of impassioned response. Or any form of impassive response. Or any response whatsoever. This would require some emotion. Some form of actual feeling towards me, be that feeling love or hate. Yet there is nothing. I know this. I hate it. But I know this.
And so I sit here, staring at this white screen, trying to come up with something to say. Something intellectual to spill from my fingers. Something that will stir a desire from you to discuss something meaningful. Yet even this turns up nothing. It's all dark and blank and non-existent. It's all simply dead. If it were even ever alive.
I don't think it was. I think it was all a lie. It never existed. It never held any truth. It was simply a string of lies, but for what purpose?
-------------------------------------------
I was watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer earlier tonight. Actually, we were watching the musical - and fast-forwarding to the songs we liked best. Spike. Ahh how I do love Spike. There is so much passion within him. But, there is also love.
At the risk of sounding like a sadly pathetic Buffy fan (which, I am)...
Buffy had two main men (love affair men... not men in general) in her life (I don't count Riley simply because, I didn't like him): Angel, and Spike. Many people argue that Angel was the better love...the truer love. I don't agree with this. Angel had a soul. Everything he did was because of this. He helped Buffy, because he had to. Those of you with a soul... with a conscience... should understand this. You do good things because otherwise you're wracked with guilt. But Spike? He had no conscience.... no soul. And yet he still loved her. He still helped her. He did things for her because of a love that went deeper than a simple soul.
I think this is the kind of love we all desire.... a love that is there not because someone has to love us. I don't want someone to love me simply because they feel this is what they're supposed to do. I don't want someone to be here for me just because their conscience tells them they should be. I don't want someone to pretend to care just because otherwise they might feel some sense of guilt. Or because they feel some sense of responsibility.
I want to be loved, and held, and heard because that is what someone wants to do. I want to be loved, and held, and heard for no reason other than the other person wants to love and hold and listen.
Perhaps this is too much to expect.
-------------------------------------------
It's very simple, you know. Just a few small words. Two would suffice. "Shut up." Or, you could go with three... "Leave me alone." Or, perhaps you prefer being a bit wordier - to soften the blow a little. "I do care about you, but I think... blah blah blah." But seriously, any of these will work. Just don't pretend. Stop pretending. Stop acting. You aren't good at it. And to care just because you think that's what is expected of you? That's just stupid. It's a waste of your time, and mine.
And so I ask of you... put something on this blank screen. Something for me to read. Give me some truth to absorb. Give me a reason.
Ah, even as I say the words "give me some truth", I know within myself that I don't want truth. I want what I want to hear. I want to dream. Or, at least, part of me does. But, I don't want this as a lie... I want the dream to be the truth. This reminds me of a sonnet I wrote many years ago. Well, actually, it only reminds me of the last two lines. And, because the rest of the sonnet really sucks, I shall only post the last two lines. From Sonnet 1, written 11/2/92...
"And now I ask of you, my readers dear—
What you do think, yet what I long to hear."
Ah! I also like the last two lines of Sonnet 10, written sometime in 1999...
"Truth and dreams both whisper desperate pleas
And yet here lies the lies of memories."
And with that, I slowly and quietly slink into the shadows...
-----------------------------------
Tonight's Playlist:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer - The Musical...
- Rest in Peace
- Standing in the Way
- Walk Through the Fire
- Life's a Show
Thursday, February 7, 2013
There Comes a Time
There often comes a time in our lives when we realize that the relationships we thought we had, aren't real. And those we chose not to trust, we were right in our decision.
There comes a time when we realize that those who tell us we need to open up and trust someone, are the exact people whom we should never trust. And those who claim to be our friend, don't have a clue what true friendship is.
There comes a time in our lives when the words "I love you" need so desperately to be heard, but those whom we need to hear it from are unable to say the words. And those we truly love don't even recognize our existence.
There comes a time when we desire to be loved and held close to someone's heart, but not just anyone will do. And the one who will do is the one who doesn't care.
There comes a time in our lives when a simple hug could heal a hurting heart, but the one whose arms are needed is too far away. And those who are nearby just can't make the hurt disappear.
There comes a time when we simply need to accept that we truly are alone, by accident or design. And those who can change this fact never will.
_______________________________
Tonight's playlist:
Gloriana - Can't Shake You
Miranda Lambert - I Just Really Miss You
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
All High-techie
I just got a new phone last night...And can now access blogger via my phone. I feel so cool now. Of course, typing on this takes forever for me...so don't expect too many posts from here :)
And with that, I must end this short little post.
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Will You Try?
I just watched an episode of Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. I really should never watch this show. Most of the time it's children who are raped, molested, or beaten. And every so often, one of these really triggers a pain and an assortment of flash backs. Tonight, it was difficult to make it through the episode. And yet, I found myself unable to turn away. A priest was beaten by two men. The reason - the men believed this priest had molested the sister of one of them. It turns out, he hadn't actually been the abuser... he was protecting another priest who had molested this young girl... had gotten her pregnant... had forced her to have an abortion... had been the cause of her addiction to alcohol and drugs.
It really is so easy to point the finger at other people. I was raped - this is why I drink. I was molested - this is why I sleep with everyone. I was beaten - this is why I do drugs. It's kind of funny actually... I have heard so many times that those who abuse, will abuse. I've heard abusers use that excuse - well, this is what happened to me. And I've always wanted to smack these idiots upside the head. That makes no sense - to abuse someone else because you were abused??? Tell me how the hell that makes sense. BUT, the rest... the alcohol, drugs, sex, self-destructive actions? THOSE make sense. But no one tries to understand those. No one cares why you can't open yourself up to love. No one understands why you can't trust. No one understands why you want to die. You have it all - a good home, great family, decent life. Why wouldn't you be happy? They can't grasp it. They can't understand it all.
Will you try?
Just now, most of you thought, "Of course I will." And most of you just lied to yourself.
Hmmm... that assumption isn't fair, you think? Or even worse, you believe you're one of the very few that I excluded when I said "most of you"?
Let me ask you this...
Imagine you're 5 or 6 years old, or thereabouts... someone you know and trust forces you to touch them in places you know you shouldn't touch. And they touch you there. And you know it's wrong. And you know you have to. And you're scared. You're scared to tell. You know you did something wrong, and you're going to get in trouble.
Imagine you're 8-10 years old, or thereabouts... someone you know and trust punches you in the face, and throws you against the wall. When you crumble to the ground, this person proceeds to kick you in the ribs, the legs, the back, wherever. You know you can't fight back - this person is an adult. You know you can't ever tell anyone. You'll get taken away and put in foster care where things will be so much worse. Or, you won't get taken away - instead, this person will kill you.
Imagine you're 14-16 years old, or thereabouts... someone you know and... well...almost trust (by this time, you really don't trust anyone) throws you to the ground in a secluded area of a park. You try to push him off, but he has his way with you. And your body responds. And as much as you say no and push, you know it's your fault. You know you let it happen. Obviously, despite your "no", you wanted it.
Imagine you're 18 years old, or thereabouts... someone you know (we won't even pretend you trust) twists your arms behind your back until you do what he wants. A few days later, he shoves you hard against the wall, hitting you. You let him. You walk away, believing you deserve better.
But...
Imagine it. Imagine where the rest of your life would be. Imagine what you truly would be. How would you end up? Would you ever love? Could you? Would you ever trust again? Could you? Would you ever be 'right'?
Sadly, imagining it will never really be enough for anyone to understand. You need to experience it. You need to truly feel it to know it. But most of you haven't even tried to really understand it. You read these words without really caring what they mean. You read these words with a roll of your eyes, thinking "oh geez... there she goes again"..."get over it already."
Will you try? Will you truly try to understand the darkness in my soul, the pain in my eyes, the fear in my heart?
No.
No, you won't. Because you can't. Because you don't want to. Because it's easier to roll your eyes and assume I'm just being stupid.
I tried. I was asked to trust, and I did. I was asked to love, and I did. Why won't you try?
Tonight's Playlist:
I started last night with adding the "tonight's playlist" - just because I thought it would be cool to add a few of the songs I listened to either before or during the writing of the blog post. Tonight, I want to say... EVERY song on this play list should be listened to. They all have to do with the subject matter, and are very good.
Big and Rich - Holy Water
Carrie Underwood - Blown Away
Martina McBride - Concrete Angel
Marina McBride - Independence Day
Collin Raye - 11th Commandment
Matthew West - Broken Girl
It really is so easy to point the finger at other people. I was raped - this is why I drink. I was molested - this is why I sleep with everyone. I was beaten - this is why I do drugs. It's kind of funny actually... I have heard so many times that those who abuse, will abuse. I've heard abusers use that excuse - well, this is what happened to me. And I've always wanted to smack these idiots upside the head. That makes no sense - to abuse someone else because you were abused??? Tell me how the hell that makes sense. BUT, the rest... the alcohol, drugs, sex, self-destructive actions? THOSE make sense. But no one tries to understand those. No one cares why you can't open yourself up to love. No one understands why you can't trust. No one understands why you want to die. You have it all - a good home, great family, decent life. Why wouldn't you be happy? They can't grasp it. They can't understand it all.
Will you try?
Just now, most of you thought, "Of course I will." And most of you just lied to yourself.
Hmmm... that assumption isn't fair, you think? Or even worse, you believe you're one of the very few that I excluded when I said "most of you"?
Let me ask you this...
Imagine you're 5 or 6 years old, or thereabouts... someone you know and trust forces you to touch them in places you know you shouldn't touch. And they touch you there. And you know it's wrong. And you know you have to. And you're scared. You're scared to tell. You know you did something wrong, and you're going to get in trouble.
Imagine you're 8-10 years old, or thereabouts... someone you know and trust punches you in the face, and throws you against the wall. When you crumble to the ground, this person proceeds to kick you in the ribs, the legs, the back, wherever. You know you can't fight back - this person is an adult. You know you can't ever tell anyone. You'll get taken away and put in foster care where things will be so much worse. Or, you won't get taken away - instead, this person will kill you.
Imagine you're 14-16 years old, or thereabouts... someone you know and... well...almost trust (by this time, you really don't trust anyone) throws you to the ground in a secluded area of a park. You try to push him off, but he has his way with you. And your body responds. And as much as you say no and push, you know it's your fault. You know you let it happen. Obviously, despite your "no", you wanted it.
Imagine you're 18 years old, or thereabouts... someone you know (we won't even pretend you trust) twists your arms behind your back until you do what he wants. A few days later, he shoves you hard against the wall, hitting you. You let him. You walk away, believing you deserve better.
But...
Imagine it. Imagine where the rest of your life would be. Imagine what you truly would be. How would you end up? Would you ever love? Could you? Would you ever trust again? Could you? Would you ever be 'right'?
Sadly, imagining it will never really be enough for anyone to understand. You need to experience it. You need to truly feel it to know it. But most of you haven't even tried to really understand it. You read these words without really caring what they mean. You read these words with a roll of your eyes, thinking "oh geez... there she goes again"..."get over it already."
Will you try? Will you truly try to understand the darkness in my soul, the pain in my eyes, the fear in my heart?
No.
No, you won't. Because you can't. Because you don't want to. Because it's easier to roll your eyes and assume I'm just being stupid.
I tried. I was asked to trust, and I did. I was asked to love, and I did. Why won't you try?
Tonight's Playlist:
I started last night with adding the "tonight's playlist" - just because I thought it would be cool to add a few of the songs I listened to either before or during the writing of the blog post. Tonight, I want to say... EVERY song on this play list should be listened to. They all have to do with the subject matter, and are very good.
Big and Rich - Holy Water
Carrie Underwood - Blown Away
Martina McBride - Concrete Angel
Marina McBride - Independence Day
Collin Raye - 11th Commandment
Matthew West - Broken Girl
Friday, February 1, 2013
Hiding
I was watching the reality show "So You Think You Can Dance" tonight,
and there was one beautiful dancer on there whom was chastised for not
showing emotion. Ah, how many times I've been there, burying that
emotion, whether by accident or design.
I don't know her story. Every story is different. Every hardship which forces us to hide the laughter and tears - it's always different. Perhaps she was turned down too many times. Perhaps it has nothing to do with her dancing. Perhaps she was abused. Perhaps she was used one too many times. I don't know.
But I do know that she was chastised for her lack of emotion. And on her next performance, that emotion was there.
And I do know... most of us who have that emotion buried... there is usually someone out there who can pull it out of us. You never know who; you never know when. But eventually someone will come along whom you find yourself unable to hide from. He or she can pull the real smiles and tears from you - not the forced ones you find yourself showing others at appropriate times. He or she makes you feel, whether you want to or not, whether it hurts or not. This person brings it out of you. This person brings out the fear, the sorrow, the anger, the joy - all of it real, and all of it strong.
And I do know... the people who are capable of doing this are few and far between. And this is considering you're lucky enough to find even one. I was that lucky. And then I wasn't. To go from not showing emotion, to oddly feeling perfectly okay with letting people see the real you, to suddenly going back to not being able to show that emotion...
Have you ever read Flowers for Algernon? Geez I can't recall how many years ago it was that I read this novel. It must have been my very early high school or college years. But basically, it's how it feels to have something you've never known suddenly in your life... then lose it. When you don't have someone you can trust to show yourself to for so many years... you have no clue what you're missing. Then suddenly, you have this. You know the incredible feeling it is to be able to let someone in. You feel the light, the warmth. You feel the tears... but they don't frighten or truly depress you. You know you're taken care of. You know it will be ok. And then it's stripped away.
Not knowing what you're missing is oh so much better than knowing. THAT is the plot behind Flowers of Algernon. And this is the plot behind this post. Or, part of it anyway. Oh hell, I don't even remember what the plot was regarding this post. And therefore, I shall hush.
tonight's playlist (... this playlist is bouncing between youtube, cmt and gac... and includes many more than what is written here. This is just the ones I remembered to write down...)
Chris Isaak - Wicked Game
Kenny Chesney - Come Over
Train - Bruises
Kelly Clarkson/Vince Gill - Don't Rush
I don't know her story. Every story is different. Every hardship which forces us to hide the laughter and tears - it's always different. Perhaps she was turned down too many times. Perhaps it has nothing to do with her dancing. Perhaps she was abused. Perhaps she was used one too many times. I don't know.
But I do know that she was chastised for her lack of emotion. And on her next performance, that emotion was there.
And I do know... most of us who have that emotion buried... there is usually someone out there who can pull it out of us. You never know who; you never know when. But eventually someone will come along whom you find yourself unable to hide from. He or she can pull the real smiles and tears from you - not the forced ones you find yourself showing others at appropriate times. He or she makes you feel, whether you want to or not, whether it hurts or not. This person brings it out of you. This person brings out the fear, the sorrow, the anger, the joy - all of it real, and all of it strong.
And I do know... the people who are capable of doing this are few and far between. And this is considering you're lucky enough to find even one. I was that lucky. And then I wasn't. To go from not showing emotion, to oddly feeling perfectly okay with letting people see the real you, to suddenly going back to not being able to show that emotion...
Have you ever read Flowers for Algernon? Geez I can't recall how many years ago it was that I read this novel. It must have been my very early high school or college years. But basically, it's how it feels to have something you've never known suddenly in your life... then lose it. When you don't have someone you can trust to show yourself to for so many years... you have no clue what you're missing. Then suddenly, you have this. You know the incredible feeling it is to be able to let someone in. You feel the light, the warmth. You feel the tears... but they don't frighten or truly depress you. You know you're taken care of. You know it will be ok. And then it's stripped away.
Not knowing what you're missing is oh so much better than knowing. THAT is the plot behind Flowers of Algernon. And this is the plot behind this post. Or, part of it anyway. Oh hell, I don't even remember what the plot was regarding this post. And therefore, I shall hush.
tonight's playlist (... this playlist is bouncing between youtube, cmt and gac... and includes many more than what is written here. This is just the ones I remembered to write down...)
Chris Isaak - Wicked Game
Kenny Chesney - Come Over
Train - Bruises
Kelly Clarkson/Vince Gill - Don't Rush
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