Thursday, August 28, 2014
The Boys I've Loved
The old scent and smell
Pervades my senses
Like the first draw
On the Newports I used to smoke (but I don't anymore)
It smells like the night
I poured out my heart to you
While we chain smoked on the trampoline
And I coughed for three weeks (it's gone now)
It feels like the night
When I was still innocent
And asked a boy
If I could hold his hand (he said no)
It sounds like the night
I took you back
And when I realized what I'd done
I fell apart all over again (but I still smile)
It looks like the night
I discovered who I was
And I held you close and wished
That you could be mine (but I couldn't tell you)
And overall I get this sense
That someday all of these
Will come together and create
One full sense (but it's taking a long time)
Sunday, June 8, 2014
"(June 6, 2014, last day of high school senior year) Dear Freshman Me,
Looking at you now makes me smile, hurt, and want to cry all at the same time. Just look at you! You're so brave, so innocent, so naive- one sweet 16 bundle that is about to go through the worst, and the best, 3 years of your life so far. Those doors look so big right now. You feel so small, with you back pack weighted down by every possible school supply mom could think of. She waved you away on your first day.
Oh mom, I do love you so much.
You're going to meet the love of your life, your soul mate, on this bus. Don't hold back. Give him everything you've got. Love him, cherish him, worship the ground he walks on. Maybe this time around he'll love you better than he loved me.
Throughout your 3 years in high school, you are going to meet some of your best friends and your worst enemies, and some will be disguised as the opposite of what they are.
You're going to be ripped to shreds many times before your school career is over. Friends will stab you in the back. Love will turn sour. But remember, those who stay beside you throughout your worst days are the ones you need to hold on to and trust.
Mr. Kimbrough and Mr. B are going to be your greatest allies throughout this war. Don't let them down. Keep fighting, keep pushing, because it's so worth it in the end.
Don't let anyone try to tell you who you are. Be you. Live on the wild side. Enjoy being the nobody, but when you turn into the 'boss ass bitch' who wheels, deals, and forges signatures, live it up. Just don't get caught. You have the ability to talk yourself out of almost every situation, but you're going to have to pick your battles wisely. Choose when to talk, and when to take your punishment.
Marching band is going to become your other family. That's a good thing. Play every instrument they ask you. Take a walk in Mr Kimbrough's shoes and discover everything he's ever done for you. Stand up to the bullies and stand up for those who cannot fight. And when he breaks your heart...when you realize that the person you have built your life around for the last 2 1/2 years no longer loves you...be brave, little one. Your life has not ended. Go do everything he never let you do. Wear heels, wear makeup, dress up for the pretty boy down the hall, get your tattoos, shave your head...you are free.
Become the person you want to be but are so afraid of becoming. Let your inner self and you will be ok.
I am standing at the end of Senior year now, the only early graduate here. My light is about to go out in the halls and next year's freshmen won't have me to fight for them.
And you, my sweet, naive, innocent little girl.
You no longer exist.
You've changed so much in the last 3 years that your past self is gone.
I'm proud of you.
-Senior me
Ps- The doors are still big when you walk out."
Oh mom, I do love you so much.
You're going to meet the love of your life, your soul mate, on this bus. Don't hold back. Give him everything you've got. Love him, cherish him, worship the ground he walks on. Maybe this time around he'll love you better than he loved me.
Throughout your 3 years in high school, you are going to meet some of your best friends and your worst enemies, and some will be disguised as the opposite of what they are.
You're going to be ripped to shreds many times before your school career is over. Friends will stab you in the back. Love will turn sour. But remember, those who stay beside you throughout your worst days are the ones you need to hold on to and trust.
Mr. Kimbrough and Mr. B are going to be your greatest allies throughout this war. Don't let them down. Keep fighting, keep pushing, because it's so worth it in the end.
Don't let anyone try to tell you who you are. Be you. Live on the wild side. Enjoy being the nobody, but when you turn into the 'boss ass bitch' who wheels, deals, and forges signatures, live it up. Just don't get caught. You have the ability to talk yourself out of almost every situation, but you're going to have to pick your battles wisely. Choose when to talk, and when to take your punishment.
Marching band is going to become your other family. That's a good thing. Play every instrument they ask you. Take a walk in Mr Kimbrough's shoes and discover everything he's ever done for you. Stand up to the bullies and stand up for those who cannot fight. And when he breaks your heart...when you realize that the person you have built your life around for the last 2 1/2 years no longer loves you...be brave, little one. Your life has not ended. Go do everything he never let you do. Wear heels, wear makeup, dress up for the pretty boy down the hall, get your tattoos, shave your head...you are free.
Become the person you want to be but are so afraid of becoming. Let your inner self and you will be ok.
I am standing at the end of Senior year now, the only early graduate here. My light is about to go out in the halls and next year's freshmen won't have me to fight for them.
And you, my sweet, naive, innocent little girl.
You no longer exist.
You've changed so much in the last 3 years that your past self is gone.
I'm proud of you.
-Senior me
Ps- The doors are still big when you walk out."
When I first pulled this page up to write a post, it was going to be about something totally different- and the next post probably will be my original idea. But seeing my last post pop up, I can't just let that hang unfinished. I need to update all of you beautiful people that stop by once in a great while to read this pitifully updated blog about what has happened in the past month. My world turned upside down and I've cracked and I don't know how long I can keep from shattering. Everything I knew, or thought I knew, has changed and it hurts more than anything I have gone through in my entire life. We're talking physical pain- did you know emotions can cause physical pain? Because I didn't until now.
My baby, the love of my life, the one that kept me from self harming and being suicidal and the one who kept me going through all of the shit the last three years have given me...he's gone. I haven't seen him in a week and it's killing me because I still drive by his house and I feel another crack in my heart slowly working its way towards the center. Once those cracks reach the center, one of two things will happen. Either I will shatter like the cymbal my friend broke this year in band, or I will have found a way to heal the cracks as they happen and by some miracle I'll manage to keep it together for another day.
After two and a half years of being more in love than I ever thought possible, two and a half years of putting up with allowing myself to be controlled, after two and a half years of whispered promises and healing words, it's over. He told me to my face that he didn't love me any more and wasn't sure he ever had- but he still wanted to be friends.
Right away, I called BS on that.
And, as usual, I was right. No, he's got a sexuality crisis happening, which I totally understand. But to lie to me, the person who had a terrible time coming out to the world and the one person who knows what it's like for him....this was unacceptable. If you had just told me this in the beginning, babe, if you had just asked me to understand and be patient with you and give you space, I would have understood. I would have given you a hug and walked away proud that you trusted me enough to tell me what you were going through.
But you fucking lied. To me. The person that has put up with your BS, has put up with being controlled to the point that I don't know who I am anymore without you because I love you so incredibly much that I was willing to wait until you matured a little bit, you lied?! I'm sorry. Now I'm saying we're over. Don't try to call me, don't try to talk to me anymore. I gave you so many second chances, so many chances to apologize for lying to me, and you had the nerve to say you weren't sorry for that.
Ok. Bye.
Truth is, I miss him. I spent the last two and a half years building my life around a relationship that I believed, with all I was, was going somewhere. I hurt a lot. I'm afraid by myself. I don't know how to be alone.
To make it worse, school is ending. So I can't enjoy a wallow of self-pity every day. But it's good for me, right? To learn to be strong again, by myself?
I am fixing this feeling. And I'm fixing it by road tripping to MI to see my childhood home and friends, and also by moving to Miami for a year and a half. I need to get out of Greensboro for awhile- I have nothing keeping me here now.
Yay adventures!
My baby, the love of my life, the one that kept me from self harming and being suicidal and the one who kept me going through all of the shit the last three years have given me...he's gone. I haven't seen him in a week and it's killing me because I still drive by his house and I feel another crack in my heart slowly working its way towards the center. Once those cracks reach the center, one of two things will happen. Either I will shatter like the cymbal my friend broke this year in band, or I will have found a way to heal the cracks as they happen and by some miracle I'll manage to keep it together for another day.
After two and a half years of being more in love than I ever thought possible, two and a half years of putting up with allowing myself to be controlled, after two and a half years of whispered promises and healing words, it's over. He told me to my face that he didn't love me any more and wasn't sure he ever had- but he still wanted to be friends.
Right away, I called BS on that.
And, as usual, I was right. No, he's got a sexuality crisis happening, which I totally understand. But to lie to me, the person who had a terrible time coming out to the world and the one person who knows what it's like for him....this was unacceptable. If you had just told me this in the beginning, babe, if you had just asked me to understand and be patient with you and give you space, I would have understood. I would have given you a hug and walked away proud that you trusted me enough to tell me what you were going through.
But you fucking lied. To me. The person that has put up with your BS, has put up with being controlled to the point that I don't know who I am anymore without you because I love you so incredibly much that I was willing to wait until you matured a little bit, you lied?! I'm sorry. Now I'm saying we're over. Don't try to call me, don't try to talk to me anymore. I gave you so many second chances, so many chances to apologize for lying to me, and you had the nerve to say you weren't sorry for that.
Ok. Bye.
Truth is, I miss him. I spent the last two and a half years building my life around a relationship that I believed, with all I was, was going somewhere. I hurt a lot. I'm afraid by myself. I don't know how to be alone.
To make it worse, school is ending. So I can't enjoy a wallow of self-pity every day. But it's good for me, right? To learn to be strong again, by myself?
I am fixing this feeling. And I'm fixing it by road tripping to MI to see my childhood home and friends, and also by moving to Miami for a year and a half. I need to get out of Greensboro for awhile- I have nothing keeping me here now.
Yay adventures!
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Who am I? Who are You?
I don't know how to start this post. I seem to not know how to start a lot of things, lately. Maybe it's the cold seeping into my head and keeping me from being able to do...anything, really. I can't pull my grades up. I can't keep going to school. I can't remember who I am, what I'm here for, why I'm doing the things I'm doing.
I have been asking myself a lot lately, 'Who am I?' Because I really don't know. I've gone through so many extreme changes in the last 3 years that I literally don't know who I am. Lists of what I do know help-
1. My name is Rena.
2. I have a wonderful boyfriend named Christian.
3. I love music- in any form.
4. I love art.
5. I love beauty.
6. I am undoubtedly a feminist.
7. I love books.
8. I believe in not letting the crowd control you.
9. I believe in being a good person, not a bad person.
10. I am pansexual.
But what does all this really mean? Who is Rena, really? She's this girl I see walking the halls at school trying to keep her head up when everything around her is going crazy, but it seems she really loses that battle a lot.
I know who I want her to be- your best friend or your worst enemy. Hell in Heels. Bad ass in a dress. Loyal. Thoughtful. Talented. Happy. Successful. Accepting and accepted.
I want her to be that girl that exits the stage and leaves the crowd in tears, applauding. I want her to be the girl that rose from the ashes and created beauty out of it. I want her to acknowledge her depression, anxiety, ADHD, and move on. I want her to be able to fight when she needs to, but to chose her battles wisely- to be able to see past the anger and into the person. I want her to be able to keep her promises, to show others a new way of living.
But sometimes she doesn't.
Sometimes she lashes out at people who really don't deserve it. Sometimes she takes her anger and hurt and frustration out on her loving boyfriend whose last joke was the last straw when it really shouldn't have been.
She wants to forget the anger and hurt of the last year and look forward to happiness and togetherness.
But can she? I think she can- but then it comes down to her choosing to do it.
There's all these things that I want but don't know how to make happen.
Sometimes I feel lost.
But I'm beginning to realize that sometimes, being lost isn't the worst thing on earth.
Sometimes, it's the best.
Sometimes, you need to be lost in order to rediscover the beauty around you. To find the new paths for yourself, whether they be well traveled or not, whether you find a well traveled path and decide to stay on it, or to cut a new path parallel to it.
I've been learning to slow down and try to live. Learning that rushing through life is a foolish choice- let the fairytales be real for as long as possible, and when you have to let them go, it's ok to cry. But make sure you create your own fairytales- at least try. I've learned that everyone smells the roses, but you need to look beyond the roses to find the flowers that no one else sees- the little ones that hug the ground and yet smell fresh and sweet and scream joy and happiness and triumph in your face- the ones that aren't showy, but choose to be quiet. Because in the quietness, there is the loudest voice of all- silence.
I remember when I was little, the day my adoption was finalized and I was legally a [insert last name here], the judge looked at me and asked me if there was anything I wanted to say. I shook my head, in awe of the large man with salt and pepper hair, in a black robe who looked so kindly at me and was so happy to put a family together. I was afraid to speak to His Honor- but only because I was afraid I would say the wrong thing. He just chuckled and said that silence was golden.
I didn't understand at the time how far that statement reaches. Not only to the quieting clamor of kids as the night wears on, but to the city, the loud rushing that we humans do constantly. Constant noise- even this computer, as I sit here and write, makes noise {the whirring of the fans, the clicking of my keys, the shish of the mousepad when I drag my fingers across it}.
It's not until there is true silence that you can appreciate it. And that is a rare thing. And now I understand. From going to school in the morning, to going to work in the evening, to coming home to noisy kids, the amount of silence I get is minute compared to what I got 3 years ago.
But I digress. I was speaking of who I wanted to be. Who I don't know I am.
How do I find myself?
I know I'm supposed to...but how do I look when I don't know what I am looking for?
People come to me for advice and I give it to them and I don't know where it came from.
Is that who I am? A counselor?
People older than me come to me for advice on sex and I help them. Am I the next sex ed teacher? Good lord, I hope not.
People ask me to critique their musical auditions before the big day. Am I a musician? I would love to have that title, but am I that good yet?
People tell me I'm pretty. Am I a beauty queen? I don't think so. It's not who I want to be.
Then who am I? Why can I not figure it out? I'm almost 20- closer to 20 than 15. Aren't I supposed to have figured this out by now?
Or maybe that's the glorious beauty of life- you are always searching, always looking, always deciding.
Do I fit in a box? I don't think I do- I know I don't as far as religion goes. But what about other things? Do I git in a box as far as political views, emotional views, even feministic views? I don't know. Maybe. But if I can understand both sides of an argument, then how can I choose a side? Am I required to choose a side?
How can I write things that I don't understand? And yet they flow out of me unbidden. Perhaps it is the intense desire in me to know who I am, to know life, that I write. That I continue to search.
Do I like makeup? DO I like heels?
Or am I the girl that will forever walk around in sneakers because- comfort?
Will I always struggle and fail to be funny?
What is my personality? Will I continue to be a fighter, or will I eventually become a lover? Or will I find a balance between the two?
Am I destined for greatness, or will I be a quiet, unsure nobody who remains in the shadows forever? Will I stand up for what I believe in? Or will I set up the chairs at the meetings for those that believe as I do, and sit quietly in the back and let others speak my mind for me?
Will I let government institutions run my life, or will I continue to rage against all things institutional?
Who do I want to be? Will I change that?
I'm not afraid of much- not losing friends to stay true to myself, I'm not afraid of losing anything if it means staying true to myself.
But I am afraid of forgetting. Forgetting who I want to be, forgetting to fight, forgetting to love, forgetting to look past the loudness and the crazy to the quiet and the peaceful.
I will probably always search. And if I ever find the true Rena, I'll let you know.
I hope I do.
But at the same time, I hope she stays lost forever. Not only because I am afraid to stop looking, to be found, but because I need to remember to see the beauty in everything, everywhere.
I have been asking myself a lot lately, 'Who am I?' Because I really don't know. I've gone through so many extreme changes in the last 3 years that I literally don't know who I am. Lists of what I do know help-
1. My name is Rena.
2. I have a wonderful boyfriend named Christian.
3. I love music- in any form.
4. I love art.
5. I love beauty.
6. I am undoubtedly a feminist.
7. I love books.
8. I believe in not letting the crowd control you.
9. I believe in being a good person, not a bad person.
10. I am pansexual.
But what does all this really mean? Who is Rena, really? She's this girl I see walking the halls at school trying to keep her head up when everything around her is going crazy, but it seems she really loses that battle a lot.
I know who I want her to be- your best friend or your worst enemy. Hell in Heels. Bad ass in a dress. Loyal. Thoughtful. Talented. Happy. Successful. Accepting and accepted.
I want her to be that girl that exits the stage and leaves the crowd in tears, applauding. I want her to be the girl that rose from the ashes and created beauty out of it. I want her to acknowledge her depression, anxiety, ADHD, and move on. I want her to be able to fight when she needs to, but to chose her battles wisely- to be able to see past the anger and into the person. I want her to be able to keep her promises, to show others a new way of living.
But sometimes she doesn't.
Sometimes she lashes out at people who really don't deserve it. Sometimes she takes her anger and hurt and frustration out on her loving boyfriend whose last joke was the last straw when it really shouldn't have been.
She wants to forget the anger and hurt of the last year and look forward to happiness and togetherness.
But can she? I think she can- but then it comes down to her choosing to do it.
There's all these things that I want but don't know how to make happen.
Sometimes I feel lost.
But I'm beginning to realize that sometimes, being lost isn't the worst thing on earth.
Sometimes, it's the best.
Sometimes, you need to be lost in order to rediscover the beauty around you. To find the new paths for yourself, whether they be well traveled or not, whether you find a well traveled path and decide to stay on it, or to cut a new path parallel to it.
I've been learning to slow down and try to live. Learning that rushing through life is a foolish choice- let the fairytales be real for as long as possible, and when you have to let them go, it's ok to cry. But make sure you create your own fairytales- at least try. I've learned that everyone smells the roses, but you need to look beyond the roses to find the flowers that no one else sees- the little ones that hug the ground and yet smell fresh and sweet and scream joy and happiness and triumph in your face- the ones that aren't showy, but choose to be quiet. Because in the quietness, there is the loudest voice of all- silence.
I remember when I was little, the day my adoption was finalized and I was legally a [insert last name here], the judge looked at me and asked me if there was anything I wanted to say. I shook my head, in awe of the large man with salt and pepper hair, in a black robe who looked so kindly at me and was so happy to put a family together. I was afraid to speak to His Honor- but only because I was afraid I would say the wrong thing. He just chuckled and said that silence was golden.
I didn't understand at the time how far that statement reaches. Not only to the quieting clamor of kids as the night wears on, but to the city, the loud rushing that we humans do constantly. Constant noise- even this computer, as I sit here and write, makes noise {the whirring of the fans, the clicking of my keys, the shish of the mousepad when I drag my fingers across it}.
It's not until there is true silence that you can appreciate it. And that is a rare thing. And now I understand. From going to school in the morning, to going to work in the evening, to coming home to noisy kids, the amount of silence I get is minute compared to what I got 3 years ago.
But I digress. I was speaking of who I wanted to be. Who I don't know I am.
How do I find myself?
I know I'm supposed to...but how do I look when I don't know what I am looking for?
People come to me for advice and I give it to them and I don't know where it came from.
Is that who I am? A counselor?
People older than me come to me for advice on sex and I help them. Am I the next sex ed teacher? Good lord, I hope not.
People ask me to critique their musical auditions before the big day. Am I a musician? I would love to have that title, but am I that good yet?
People tell me I'm pretty. Am I a beauty queen? I don't think so. It's not who I want to be.
Then who am I? Why can I not figure it out? I'm almost 20- closer to 20 than 15. Aren't I supposed to have figured this out by now?
Or maybe that's the glorious beauty of life- you are always searching, always looking, always deciding.
Do I fit in a box? I don't think I do- I know I don't as far as religion goes. But what about other things? Do I git in a box as far as political views, emotional views, even feministic views? I don't know. Maybe. But if I can understand both sides of an argument, then how can I choose a side? Am I required to choose a side?
How can I write things that I don't understand? And yet they flow out of me unbidden. Perhaps it is the intense desire in me to know who I am, to know life, that I write. That I continue to search.
Do I like makeup? DO I like heels?
Or am I the girl that will forever walk around in sneakers because- comfort?
Will I always struggle and fail to be funny?
What is my personality? Will I continue to be a fighter, or will I eventually become a lover? Or will I find a balance between the two?
Am I destined for greatness, or will I be a quiet, unsure nobody who remains in the shadows forever? Will I stand up for what I believe in? Or will I set up the chairs at the meetings for those that believe as I do, and sit quietly in the back and let others speak my mind for me?
Will I let government institutions run my life, or will I continue to rage against all things institutional?
Who do I want to be? Will I change that?
I'm not afraid of much- not losing friends to stay true to myself, I'm not afraid of losing anything if it means staying true to myself.
But I am afraid of forgetting. Forgetting who I want to be, forgetting to fight, forgetting to love, forgetting to look past the loudness and the crazy to the quiet and the peaceful.
I will probably always search. And if I ever find the true Rena, I'll let you know.
I hope I do.
But at the same time, I hope she stays lost forever. Not only because I am afraid to stop looking, to be found, but because I need to remember to see the beauty in everything, everywhere.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
Looking Back, Looking Forward
It's tradition with a lot of people to write something deep either on December 31, or January 1, to represent how they are reflecting on the past year and the new one.
Well, now it's my turn.
The past year has been heartbreaking, uplifting, painful, and healing. From one of my best friends dying, and others that I knew passing on as well- some in very painful ways- to me going through therapy and coming out a better person on the other end of it, to realizing that I hold the keys to my destiny, whatever I want to make it, this year has been one I will never regret, but will always look back on with a bittersweet nostalgia.
In January, I cut my hair. Shaved most of it off, actually. It was right after Miley Cyrus did her hair shave, and yes, she was my inspiration. I loved her courage to put herself out there and do what she wanted, so I did something similar. All but the top was shaved, and I left that at about an inch. I didn't dye it weird (unless a bright electric blue is weird), but I loved getting up in the morning and running my hands through my hair and that was it.
In February, my hair was longer and I flipped it. And now that I'm trying to think about it, I don't think much else happened in February. The marching band had the MLK parade...that's about it. Febs was a pretty dull month for me.
In March, the school band went to competition and we came back with straight superiors. Fives in everything. We were ecstatic, cheering and yelling on the way home. I was getting really depressed, but wasn't talking to anyone yet.
April. Probably the worst month of the year for me. My friend, Lauren Nesbitt, died in her sleep one night. She was only 19, and her death was so unexpected. She had Epilepsy, but she rarely had seizures, as she was outgrowing them. This one was, of course, unexpected and shocking- and when she was found the next morning, having smothered to death during her seizure. I miss her everyday- not a day goes by that I don't think about her. It was weird not getting a text from her over Christmas, or getting a call from her early this morning that began with her yelling "HAPPY NEW YEAR" in my ear.
May was my boyfriend's birthday. We celebrated by hanging out together at the mall and I bought him everything he liked, until I ran out of money. It was the beginning of something new for us- I went away on Spring Break and he went to Illinois for awhile. We were apart for a long time, and I missed him a lot. When he came home, the only place I could go without him either holding my hand or putting his arm around me or cuddling me ferociously, was the bathroom. And the same went for him. I even went so far as to refuse him the bathroom for 10 minutes because I wanted to hug him just a little while longer.
Things had changed in him, and it was good. He came back ready to move ahead with our relationship and we started planning a more concrete future together, one that was not just dreams and hopes, but what was practical and affordable-ish for our near future. Come September or October, we will most likely be living on our own together and he will be working at Metlife. I am so proud of him.
June, we graduated our Sophomore and Junior years. Summer break was a much needed thing. I was still in therapy and things were going well. A group of us, Christian, me, His sister Sam, and her boyfriend and my best friend, Bj, and Sam's best friend Sabrina, started getting together to play games, hang out, and start playing DnD. We did that through August, when I turned 18 and started my last band camp...most likely ever.
Late in August, School started again, both me and Christian's senior years, thank's to the school letting me skip my Junior year. Marching band went to every game, away or home, and we watched our Nighthawks power towards a 4th Championship.
September was the month I got a job. I love my job. Everyone is telling me to quit, to focus on school, but this job is what keeps me going, why I am sticking through school. I have something to look forward to after school.
October marked 2 years for me and Christian, as well as our last Homecoming dance in high school. We went to eat at my restaurant, and I let the waitresses fuss over my dress and jewelry, especially my coworker Cara, because she has always taken care of me at work and I love her.
November was a pretty boring month, with really nothing besides work and school happening. I went to South Carolina for my fall break, and I had an amazing visit. I was welcomed back like family, and seeing my best friends again was like going home.
December was a hard month. Old feelings were resurfacing. Two people who I once loved began a new chapter of their lives, one that left me feeling nostalgic and wishing, for some reason that I could not understand, that it was me.
And the New Year has arrived, and with it a dark night in which I contemplate the things I could do differently this year, the things I regret from last year, and what I want in my life. Something left me with a hole in my heart and I want it back. Nothing will be right until then.
But right now, my resolutions for this year are to keep my head and my heels high.
Well, now it's my turn.
The past year has been heartbreaking, uplifting, painful, and healing. From one of my best friends dying, and others that I knew passing on as well- some in very painful ways- to me going through therapy and coming out a better person on the other end of it, to realizing that I hold the keys to my destiny, whatever I want to make it, this year has been one I will never regret, but will always look back on with a bittersweet nostalgia.
In January, I cut my hair. Shaved most of it off, actually. It was right after Miley Cyrus did her hair shave, and yes, she was my inspiration. I loved her courage to put herself out there and do what she wanted, so I did something similar. All but the top was shaved, and I left that at about an inch. I didn't dye it weird (unless a bright electric blue is weird), but I loved getting up in the morning and running my hands through my hair and that was it.
In February, my hair was longer and I flipped it. And now that I'm trying to think about it, I don't think much else happened in February. The marching band had the MLK parade...that's about it. Febs was a pretty dull month for me.
In March, the school band went to competition and we came back with straight superiors. Fives in everything. We were ecstatic, cheering and yelling on the way home. I was getting really depressed, but wasn't talking to anyone yet.
April. Probably the worst month of the year for me. My friend, Lauren Nesbitt, died in her sleep one night. She was only 19, and her death was so unexpected. She had Epilepsy, but she rarely had seizures, as she was outgrowing them. This one was, of course, unexpected and shocking- and when she was found the next morning, having smothered to death during her seizure. I miss her everyday- not a day goes by that I don't think about her. It was weird not getting a text from her over Christmas, or getting a call from her early this morning that began with her yelling "HAPPY NEW YEAR" in my ear.
May was my boyfriend's birthday. We celebrated by hanging out together at the mall and I bought him everything he liked, until I ran out of money. It was the beginning of something new for us- I went away on Spring Break and he went to Illinois for awhile. We were apart for a long time, and I missed him a lot. When he came home, the only place I could go without him either holding my hand or putting his arm around me or cuddling me ferociously, was the bathroom. And the same went for him. I even went so far as to refuse him the bathroom for 10 minutes because I wanted to hug him just a little while longer.
Things had changed in him, and it was good. He came back ready to move ahead with our relationship and we started planning a more concrete future together, one that was not just dreams and hopes, but what was practical and affordable-ish for our near future. Come September or October, we will most likely be living on our own together and he will be working at Metlife. I am so proud of him.
June, we graduated our Sophomore and Junior years. Summer break was a much needed thing. I was still in therapy and things were going well. A group of us, Christian, me, His sister Sam, and her boyfriend and my best friend, Bj, and Sam's best friend Sabrina, started getting together to play games, hang out, and start playing DnD. We did that through August, when I turned 18 and started my last band camp...most likely ever.
Late in August, School started again, both me and Christian's senior years, thank's to the school letting me skip my Junior year. Marching band went to every game, away or home, and we watched our Nighthawks power towards a 4th Championship.
September was the month I got a job. I love my job. Everyone is telling me to quit, to focus on school, but this job is what keeps me going, why I am sticking through school. I have something to look forward to after school.
October marked 2 years for me and Christian, as well as our last Homecoming dance in high school. We went to eat at my restaurant, and I let the waitresses fuss over my dress and jewelry, especially my coworker Cara, because she has always taken care of me at work and I love her.
November was a pretty boring month, with really nothing besides work and school happening. I went to South Carolina for my fall break, and I had an amazing visit. I was welcomed back like family, and seeing my best friends again was like going home.
December was a hard month. Old feelings were resurfacing. Two people who I once loved began a new chapter of their lives, one that left me feeling nostalgic and wishing, for some reason that I could not understand, that it was me.
And the New Year has arrived, and with it a dark night in which I contemplate the things I could do differently this year, the things I regret from last year, and what I want in my life. Something left me with a hole in my heart and I want it back. Nothing will be right until then.
But right now, my resolutions for this year are to keep my head and my heels high.
Thursday, December 5, 2013
There's a Song Like That
"Do you remember the time
That we woke up at dawn
And the fog was thick
And we hid from each other?
Yeah, there's a song like that.
And do you remember the time
That I cried and you were there
The times we were all we had
And we thought our lives would fall apart?
Cause there's a song like that.
And when we were little
Songs like that were the biggest hit
And we never realized that we
Were making those memories we wanted
We never thought we'd be a song like that.
Do you remember sitting up
At three AM
And wondering where our lives would lead?
And now we see each other twice a year
And we wonder, where's the song like that?
Where's the song that told us
We'd be apart?
Where's the song that told us
How hard this would be?
But maybe someday we'll find a song like that.
And when we were little
Songs like that were the biggest hit
And we never realized that we
Were making those memories that we wanted
We never thought we'd be a song like that.
Cause I remember wishing
That we weren't so innocent
But now we aren't and we're crying
In the dead of night to get it back
Yeah....that's our song like that.
We wake up in the morning
And we follow a routine
No more spontaneous for us
And we wish we could go back
To when we had a song like that.
Cause when we were little
Songs like that were the biggest hit
And we never realized that we
Were making those memories that we wanted
We never thought we'd be a song like that."
That we woke up at dawn
And the fog was thick
And we hid from each other?
Yeah, there's a song like that.
And do you remember the time
That I cried and you were there
The times we were all we had
And we thought our lives would fall apart?
Cause there's a song like that.
And when we were little
Songs like that were the biggest hit
And we never realized that we
Were making those memories we wanted
We never thought we'd be a song like that.
Do you remember sitting up
At three AM
And wondering where our lives would lead?
And now we see each other twice a year
And we wonder, where's the song like that?
Where's the song that told us
We'd be apart?
Where's the song that told us
How hard this would be?
But maybe someday we'll find a song like that.
And when we were little
Songs like that were the biggest hit
And we never realized that we
Were making those memories that we wanted
We never thought we'd be a song like that.
Cause I remember wishing
That we weren't so innocent
But now we aren't and we're crying
In the dead of night to get it back
Yeah....that's our song like that.
We wake up in the morning
And we follow a routine
No more spontaneous for us
And we wish we could go back
To when we had a song like that.
Cause when we were little
Songs like that were the biggest hit
And we never realized that we
Were making those memories that we wanted
We never thought we'd be a song like that."
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Aaaaand I'm back!
Yay! I'm back!
I got to South Carolina on Saturday, and let me tell you, it has been a wonderful time so far. Riding horse, getting lessons, seeing friends, listening to music, and sleeping in a quiet house.
I went to my litte sister's play on Sunday night, and it was extremely enjoyable. All of the kids did a wonderful job, and the producers and directors were awesome as well. I enjoyed socializing afterwards with everyone, although I must have answered the same questions a million times- "Where are you living now?" "How is your mom?" "How many siblings do you have now?" "What have you been doing with yourself?"- and now my life is even more boring than even I thought it was.
SO far this week, Jewel and I have just been going over old memories, laughing at them, and creating new ones. I mean, how many times do you get to say, "Ouch! the ceiling hit me in the face!"
Glo is gone this time around, and I really miss her. There isn't anyone to scold us when we stay up too late, or give out back massages, or take us into town whenever we want. I miss her quite a bit, but I know she is having fun where she is. And I'm really happy for her.
I got my first English riding lesson the other day, and it was really interesting. I'm just so used to Western that I could hardly do it right. But I think I managed to sit right once for about 3 seconds, so it's a step in the right direction!
Right now though, I need to sign off cause it's not raining as much anymore and WE SHOULD PROBS HEAD DOWN TO DHEC JULES- sorry had to yell that at her.
Lataaaaasss!
I got to South Carolina on Saturday, and let me tell you, it has been a wonderful time so far. Riding horse, getting lessons, seeing friends, listening to music, and sleeping in a quiet house.
I went to my litte sister's play on Sunday night, and it was extremely enjoyable. All of the kids did a wonderful job, and the producers and directors were awesome as well. I enjoyed socializing afterwards with everyone, although I must have answered the same questions a million times- "Where are you living now?" "How is your mom?" "How many siblings do you have now?" "What have you been doing with yourself?"- and now my life is even more boring than even I thought it was.
SO far this week, Jewel and I have just been going over old memories, laughing at them, and creating new ones. I mean, how many times do you get to say, "Ouch! the ceiling hit me in the face!"
Glo is gone this time around, and I really miss her. There isn't anyone to scold us when we stay up too late, or give out back massages, or take us into town whenever we want. I miss her quite a bit, but I know she is having fun where she is. And I'm really happy for her.
I got my first English riding lesson the other day, and it was really interesting. I'm just so used to Western that I could hardly do it right. But I think I managed to sit right once for about 3 seconds, so it's a step in the right direction!
Right now though, I need to sign off cause it's not raining as much anymore and WE SHOULD PROBS HEAD DOWN TO DHEC JULES- sorry had to yell that at her.
Lataaaaasss!
Sunday, September 1, 2013
Learning to be Happy
So this was my epiphany over the summer, thanks to my wonderful therapist and just my time away from school:
I was miserable last year. I was bullied, depressed, angry, and learning to deal with a new me. Over the summer, I decided to live it up. Be happy.
And I was.
Every day, I slept in late, and stayed up and out of the house until at least 3 AM, sometimes later- a few times I didn't get home til my dad was up getting ready for work and I'd walk in the door. I was tired, but I was so happy.
I was spending most of my weeks with my boyfriend, his sister, her boyfriend (who is also my best friend), her best friend (who is now my best friend as well), and their dad. We stayed up late playing Dungeons and Dragons, Pinochle, Poker, Wizard, video games, going to Geeksboro, chillin' in my backyard, attempting urban exploring at night, all sorts of things. Often it was 2 AM and the night was still young.
During all this, we all got closer. This was our group.
And for the first time in a very, very, long time, I was somewhere where I felt accepted for who I was, disorders, weird quirks, and all, and I felt like I belonged.
And that is the best feeling ever.
This led me to realize that I deserve to feel happy. I deserve to feel loved. My past has nothing to with my present, and I am free to really be me. No more religion clouding my views. No more abuse. No more worrying about what will make others happy.
Instead, I started thinking about what would make me happy. When I get old, what am I going to say about my life? That I was sad, but I made others happy? Or that I didn't worry about what made others happy, and I made myself happy, and didn't worry about what people would think of my tattoo 40 years down the road when it starts to fade?
My view now is that as long as I am happy now, I will be happy later because I will have some amazing memories to share. Not being stupid to make myself happy, but actually having fun with people I love who love me.
So when band camp came around, I was ready to take on my senior year. I started coming out of my shell and making myself known and it has already worked miracles for me. I have more friends than I did last year.
I stood up for myself to the guy that has bullied me since freshman year and we are almost friendly to each other.
I am Uniform Manager for my band and it's awesome being able to make Kimbrough's job easier, plus making going to the games easier to get ready for. And I'm still ready to take on senior year.
I'm a big girl now. It's time to pull on my steel toed shoes and step out into the real world, no matter how scary and terrifying it is. And I'm thankful to my mom and step dad for forcing me to see the raw stuff, and not sheltering me from everything that's out there.
Cause now I feel like I'm actually ready.
I don't have everything figured out- far from it. I feel like I can't see any type of future for myself anywhere, and that scares me. But as long as I am happy, and as long as I keep trying, there will be something out there for me.
I was miserable last year. I was bullied, depressed, angry, and learning to deal with a new me. Over the summer, I decided to live it up. Be happy.
And I was.
Every day, I slept in late, and stayed up and out of the house until at least 3 AM, sometimes later- a few times I didn't get home til my dad was up getting ready for work and I'd walk in the door. I was tired, but I was so happy.
I was spending most of my weeks with my boyfriend, his sister, her boyfriend (who is also my best friend), her best friend (who is now my best friend as well), and their dad. We stayed up late playing Dungeons and Dragons, Pinochle, Poker, Wizard, video games, going to Geeksboro, chillin' in my backyard, attempting urban exploring at night, all sorts of things. Often it was 2 AM and the night was still young.
During all this, we all got closer. This was our group.
And for the first time in a very, very, long time, I was somewhere where I felt accepted for who I was, disorders, weird quirks, and all, and I felt like I belonged.
And that is the best feeling ever.
This led me to realize that I deserve to feel happy. I deserve to feel loved. My past has nothing to with my present, and I am free to really be me. No more religion clouding my views. No more abuse. No more worrying about what will make others happy.
Instead, I started thinking about what would make me happy. When I get old, what am I going to say about my life? That I was sad, but I made others happy? Or that I didn't worry about what made others happy, and I made myself happy, and didn't worry about what people would think of my tattoo 40 years down the road when it starts to fade?
My view now is that as long as I am happy now, I will be happy later because I will have some amazing memories to share. Not being stupid to make myself happy, but actually having fun with people I love who love me.
So when band camp came around, I was ready to take on my senior year. I started coming out of my shell and making myself known and it has already worked miracles for me. I have more friends than I did last year.
I stood up for myself to the guy that has bullied me since freshman year and we are almost friendly to each other.
I am Uniform Manager for my band and it's awesome being able to make Kimbrough's job easier, plus making going to the games easier to get ready for. And I'm still ready to take on senior year.
I'm a big girl now. It's time to pull on my steel toed shoes and step out into the real world, no matter how scary and terrifying it is. And I'm thankful to my mom and step dad for forcing me to see the raw stuff, and not sheltering me from everything that's out there.
Cause now I feel like I'm actually ready.
I don't have everything figured out- far from it. I feel like I can't see any type of future for myself anywhere, and that scares me. But as long as I am happy, and as long as I keep trying, there will be something out there for me.
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
So I'm going over the Holocaust for my US History class.
I didn't know until a few months ago that the word Holocaust actually meant something.
It means, "Burnt Sacrifice."
When I was sitting in class, we had just finished watching some footage from Auschwitz, the death camp. I was already feeling nauseous and my head was screaming (I'm an impath, which is a different conversation/story you can message me about if you want, so it's doubly bad for me), but when I heard that definition, I almost threw up from the impact.
Burnt Sacrifice. God's chosen people, his holy children, burnt as a sacrifice. A peace offering? A sin offering? Retribution? Repentance? And what for? They are his chosen ones, Abram's offspring. Does a father give his favorite son the worst punishment of all?
The torturing, the screaming, the brutality, the insanity of this insanity?
I really appreciated what was carved on the cell wall of one victim- it echoes so many feelings inside, not only of my own life, but of the Holocaust: "If there is a God up there, he's going to have to beg my forgiveness."
I didn't know until a few months ago that the word Holocaust actually meant something.
It means, "Burnt Sacrifice."
When I was sitting in class, we had just finished watching some footage from Auschwitz, the death camp. I was already feeling nauseous and my head was screaming (I'm an impath, which is a different conversation/story you can message me about if you want, so it's doubly bad for me), but when I heard that definition, I almost threw up from the impact.
Burnt Sacrifice. God's chosen people, his holy children, burnt as a sacrifice. A peace offering? A sin offering? Retribution? Repentance? And what for? They are his chosen ones, Abram's offspring. Does a father give his favorite son the worst punishment of all?
The torturing, the screaming, the brutality, the insanity of this insanity?
I really appreciated what was carved on the cell wall of one victim- it echoes so many feelings inside, not only of my own life, but of the Holocaust: "If there is a God up there, he's going to have to beg my forgiveness."
Monday, June 17, 2013
Rant #2.
I somehow don't know where to begin this one. This one is a very touchy subject for me for many reasons. I don't want to upset people, but this probably will. I don't want to disappoint people, but this probably will. I will probably shock most of you and my dad and/or stepmom will probably call me in the next few days (love you guys!).
I saw a post earlier today by none other than the esteemed Kirk Cameron. Yeah, I like the guy. He seems pretty cool, and he's got a good sense of humor. But I disagree with him on some stuff (who agrees with everything someone believes?).
(SIDE NOTE: trying to keep my computer alive right now, this power cord doesn't really work and this might end up being posted later than I wanted it to. It's currently 2 in the morning and my meds are keeping me up but my mind is so tired I just want to sleep forever so this power cord thing might just be the last straw for tonight.)
So back to the post by Kirk.
It was about how sad premarital sex is.
Really? Really.
Ok, so, big deal. I've been taught since birth that you don't do shit with a guy until you're married. I mean, I grew up Amish. You don't even look the guy in the eyes until your wedding day (slight exaggeration there...maybe), much less hold hands, kiss, and no one even thinks about having sex because that is an unmentionable. I'm not getting into the different types of Amish here, so don't call me out on my Amish dating techniques. I know they all vary as much as different planets, I'm just giving the example of what type I grew up with.
So what is the big deal????
The big deal is, I don't agree with him. I don't agree with the way I was raised. I don't really *Want* to wait until my wedding night.
I admire the bravery of those of you who were virgins (or will be) on your wedding night.
I also admire your pain threshold. That shit is a mother.
My big deal is, why are we making our kids feel bad for taking part in something that is perfectly normal?? Yes, it's pretty damn special.
Yes, you're becoming one with another person, be they male, female, trans, bi, asexual, whatever. It's pretty special. And I don't think you should have sex until you know for sure and batshit certain that they are The One.
That said, I'm not going to make people that have sex with others besides Their One feel bad. I'm not going to walk around slut shaming or judging or creating depressing fanfiction about girls that are miserable for having sex just to get people to stop having sex.
From the beginning, sex has somehow been an expression of love. I love you. Let me show you just how much by taking you to a whole new level of happiness, by waking up your body and your emotions in a way they never have before. And that's pretty fantastic.
But this doesn't mean that it's wrong to express love to other people before you get married. This was never meant to be a wrong thing, a dirty thing, something we quickly tell our children to get away from while watching shows about ruined life and shoving birth control and condoms down their throat.
All that does is confuse them and give them inhibitions about their first time, no matter the circumstances.
Especially now that we have so much porn and R-rated movies all giving us unrealistic expectations about our first time.
So much so that now we expect a certain length in guys and certain boob sizes are considered to be acceptable while other's are just plain unattractive.
Suddenly if we don't look like porn stars, if our first time or second time or hell, even our bajillionth time didn't go like our favorite porno, we are awful at sex and then the dissatisfaction begins and the downward spiral in relationships begins.
Am i saying that sex shouldn't be awesome?
Am I saying that it is not special?
Am I saying that we should walk around and have sex with everything and everyone in sight?
None of the above.
What I AM saying is that, if someone wants to have sex, don't hate them for it. Encourage them to use protection. Encourage them to not have high expectations for their first time. Tell them everything you wish someone had told you about their first time so that they are prepared for all of the obstacles and the don't despise themselves afterwards. You can even strongly recommend that they wait a little longer to know for sure that they are doing the right thing, that they aren't just thinking in the moment, that they've taken time to talk to their partner and logically go through things.
But please, no slut shaming, no disapproval, no condemnation. Let them decide. It's their body, their life, you have no choice in the matter.
I somehow don't know where to begin this one. This one is a very touchy subject for me for many reasons. I don't want to upset people, but this probably will. I don't want to disappoint people, but this probably will. I will probably shock most of you and my dad and/or stepmom will probably call me in the next few days (love you guys!).
I saw a post earlier today by none other than the esteemed Kirk Cameron. Yeah, I like the guy. He seems pretty cool, and he's got a good sense of humor. But I disagree with him on some stuff (who agrees with everything someone believes?).
(SIDE NOTE: trying to keep my computer alive right now, this power cord doesn't really work and this might end up being posted later than I wanted it to. It's currently 2 in the morning and my meds are keeping me up but my mind is so tired I just want to sleep forever so this power cord thing might just be the last straw for tonight.)
So back to the post by Kirk.
It was about how sad premarital sex is.
Really? Really.
Ok, so, big deal. I've been taught since birth that you don't do shit with a guy until you're married. I mean, I grew up Amish. You don't even look the guy in the eyes until your wedding day (slight exaggeration there...maybe), much less hold hands, kiss, and no one even thinks about having sex because that is an unmentionable. I'm not getting into the different types of Amish here, so don't call me out on my Amish dating techniques. I know they all vary as much as different planets, I'm just giving the example of what type I grew up with.
So what is the big deal????
The big deal is, I don't agree with him. I don't agree with the way I was raised. I don't really *Want* to wait until my wedding night.
I admire the bravery of those of you who were virgins (or will be) on your wedding night.
I also admire your pain threshold. That shit is a mother.
My big deal is, why are we making our kids feel bad for taking part in something that is perfectly normal?? Yes, it's pretty damn special.
Yes, you're becoming one with another person, be they male, female, trans, bi, asexual, whatever. It's pretty special. And I don't think you should have sex until you know for sure and batshit certain that they are The One.
That said, I'm not going to make people that have sex with others besides Their One feel bad. I'm not going to walk around slut shaming or judging or creating depressing fanfiction about girls that are miserable for having sex just to get people to stop having sex.
From the beginning, sex has somehow been an expression of love. I love you. Let me show you just how much by taking you to a whole new level of happiness, by waking up your body and your emotions in a way they never have before. And that's pretty fantastic.
But this doesn't mean that it's wrong to express love to other people before you get married. This was never meant to be a wrong thing, a dirty thing, something we quickly tell our children to get away from while watching shows about ruined life and shoving birth control and condoms down their throat.
All that does is confuse them and give them inhibitions about their first time, no matter the circumstances.
Especially now that we have so much porn and R-rated movies all giving us unrealistic expectations about our first time.
So much so that now we expect a certain length in guys and certain boob sizes are considered to be acceptable while other's are just plain unattractive.
Suddenly if we don't look like porn stars, if our first time or second time or hell, even our bajillionth time didn't go like our favorite porno, we are awful at sex and then the dissatisfaction begins and the downward spiral in relationships begins.
Am i saying that sex shouldn't be awesome?
Am I saying that it is not special?
Am I saying that we should walk around and have sex with everything and everyone in sight?
None of the above.
What I AM saying is that, if someone wants to have sex, don't hate them for it. Encourage them to use protection. Encourage them to not have high expectations for their first time. Tell them everything you wish someone had told you about their first time so that they are prepared for all of the obstacles and the don't despise themselves afterwards. You can even strongly recommend that they wait a little longer to know for sure that they are doing the right thing, that they aren't just thinking in the moment, that they've taken time to talk to their partner and logically go through things.
But please, no slut shaming, no disapproval, no condemnation. Let them decide. It's their body, their life, you have no choice in the matter.
"I've found my Prince Charming."
How many times have I said that about the truly charming man I have by my side, the one that the powers that be have given to me to provide me with a guide, a soul mate, and someone that fulfills every need? Too many.
Honestly, I never should have said it.
I HATE Prince Charming.
Let me explain. I love my boyfriend with the kind of love that when I was little, I never thought I could possess- I didn't understand it. I knew that it was special. I knew that it was powerful beyond words. I knew that it hurt like hell.
And I knew, above all else, it was worth whatever demons and devils you fought against just for that love. Because if you're going to have that love, you're going to have to fight for it, or else it just isn't real.
But, Prince Charming? Superman (sorry, mom)? Knight in Shining Armor?
No. These characters are all either superficial womanizers who are more shallow than the shallow end of a pool or, they place a spandex suit and polishing their armor above fighting for a love that lasts.
I am sorry, but you cannot have the kind of love that lasts at first sight. Am I a believer in a *kind* of love at first sight? Yes, absolutely. My boyfriend loved me like that the very first time he saw me. But that isn't the love he has for me now.
Prince Charming was just so enraptured by Cinderella's boobs that he had to have her (that dress had a low neck, guys), and couldn't remember her face even after a few moments, therefore had to travel his kingdom looking for that same rack. Superman loved his suit. And yes, he saved the city and the people in it. But how many times did he lie to Lois just because he was a coward and couldn't come out and confess his love for her even though he was a geek (nothing wrong with geeks, but it is what it is). He was not confident in himself, and you cannot love someone fully until you learn to love yourself. The Knights in Shining Armor. Psht. You have the problem right there.
His freaking armor is SHINY.
Not only has he then not fought in any battles, he is so concerned with catching girls with something shiny that he probably neglects his training and is a soft wimp by now.
I honestly prefer someone who's been through shit. Someone who knows what heartache and pain are. Someone who cares more about me, inside me, than my rack (which is basically nonexistent) and my looks and attracting me with shiny things.
Rant #1 over. Rant #2 coming soon.
How many times have I said that about the truly charming man I have by my side, the one that the powers that be have given to me to provide me with a guide, a soul mate, and someone that fulfills every need? Too many.
Honestly, I never should have said it.
I HATE Prince Charming.
Let me explain. I love my boyfriend with the kind of love that when I was little, I never thought I could possess- I didn't understand it. I knew that it was special. I knew that it was powerful beyond words. I knew that it hurt like hell.
And I knew, above all else, it was worth whatever demons and devils you fought against just for that love. Because if you're going to have that love, you're going to have to fight for it, or else it just isn't real.
But, Prince Charming? Superman (sorry, mom)? Knight in Shining Armor?
No. These characters are all either superficial womanizers who are more shallow than the shallow end of a pool or, they place a spandex suit and polishing their armor above fighting for a love that lasts.
I am sorry, but you cannot have the kind of love that lasts at first sight. Am I a believer in a *kind* of love at first sight? Yes, absolutely. My boyfriend loved me like that the very first time he saw me. But that isn't the love he has for me now.
Prince Charming was just so enraptured by Cinderella's boobs that he had to have her (that dress had a low neck, guys), and couldn't remember her face even after a few moments, therefore had to travel his kingdom looking for that same rack. Superman loved his suit. And yes, he saved the city and the people in it. But how many times did he lie to Lois just because he was a coward and couldn't come out and confess his love for her even though he was a geek (nothing wrong with geeks, but it is what it is). He was not confident in himself, and you cannot love someone fully until you learn to love yourself. The Knights in Shining Armor. Psht. You have the problem right there.
His freaking armor is SHINY.
Not only has he then not fought in any battles, he is so concerned with catching girls with something shiny that he probably neglects his training and is a soft wimp by now.
I honestly prefer someone who's been through shit. Someone who knows what heartache and pain are. Someone who cares more about me, inside me, than my rack (which is basically nonexistent) and my looks and attracting me with shiny things.
Rant #1 over. Rant #2 coming soon.
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
I'm a Senior!!!
After these last two loooooonnng years of walking down the same old halls, sitting in the same old seats, listening to the same old teachers drone on and on about the difference between Mitosis and Meiosis, the reason WWII started, what the two meanings of the word 'Apostrophe' means, after playing the same 4 measures over and over, dissecting a polynomial by the Quadratic Formula and getting the wrong answer every time, after singing the same songs for months.....
I'm a Senior.
After skipping down the halls with my friends, being chased by my boyfriend for one last kiss before the bell rings, after sharing a snack during World History with a few kids who are as hungry as me, sitting beside a really shy kid as awkward as me and finding that we're both ok with being awkward together, after every day of getting to play my problems away through some of the most awesome music I have ever played in my entire life, after meeting a teacher who was willing to sit with me in the early mornings and explain to me *why* Trigonometry worked until I got it and was the class star at Trig and Stats, after finding my place and helping create music that will live on for future classes............
I'm a Senior.
It's my last year at Northern.
My last Marching Band Season.
And by God, we'd better go to another State Championship.
I used to watch the Senior's faces as we stood in the stands- watched them as they wondered if this would be their last game, their last Fight Song, their last crazy cheer, their last field show, their last crazy marching style back to the band room where we celebrated like family.
Now, that's going to be me. While I hold my flute or sax up high, I'm going to be wondering, in the back of my mind, Is this the last time I will celebrate for another touchdown? Is this the last time I will wear my uniform? is this the last time I will march through my drill, stand at attention and hear the applause of the crowd? Is this my last stand? That's going to be me!
I'm going to be the kid that looks at all the Juniors aching to get out and I'm going to tell them, don't wish your high school years away.
Yeah, it has sucked, and it has sucked hard.
And yes, I hate school.
But there are some things that I would stay in high school forever for.
Marching Band, and every single moment that comes with it- the good, the bad, the ugly, the bitchy, the amazing, the fantastic.
Some of my teachers. Mr Simpson, Ms Barrentine, Mr Kimbrough. Life changing teachers- all personally interested in where you're headed and what they can do to help you get there.
Lunch ladies that dance with you in the cafeteria after school while you're celebrating the last day of school.
Random bus drivers that let you get in their bus so you can ride home with your friend.
Guidance counselors that surround you to help you graduate early, Principles and administrators that tease you and say hello every time they see you.
When I graduate, I'm going to walk out of those doors crying, but smiling through my tears.
Because I did it. I worked and fought through online classes, bullies, and fake friends just so I could have the honor of being one of Northern's first few students to graduate early. Just so I didn't have to stay in school til I was 20.
I'm going to walk up on that stage, get my diploma, and throw my cap in the air because I made it. Against all odds, I made it.
But I'm going to cry.
Because- no more marching band. No more late night parties where we celebrate another football game won. No more running up to Kimbrough after the game to get a celebratory hug and no more band camp.
No more watching Kimbrough dunk a basketball on his birthday. No more tugging and pulling and readjusting stinky uniforms that make us feel so tall and proud. No more gloves that don't fit, no more freezing nights where we huddle together to keep warm as we watch the football team score.
How bittersweet is this?
After these last two loooooonnng years of walking down the same old halls, sitting in the same old seats, listening to the same old teachers drone on and on about the difference between Mitosis and Meiosis, the reason WWII started, what the two meanings of the word 'Apostrophe' means, after playing the same 4 measures over and over, dissecting a polynomial by the Quadratic Formula and getting the wrong answer every time, after singing the same songs for months.....
I'm a Senior.
After skipping down the halls with my friends, being chased by my boyfriend for one last kiss before the bell rings, after sharing a snack during World History with a few kids who are as hungry as me, sitting beside a really shy kid as awkward as me and finding that we're both ok with being awkward together, after every day of getting to play my problems away through some of the most awesome music I have ever played in my entire life, after meeting a teacher who was willing to sit with me in the early mornings and explain to me *why* Trigonometry worked until I got it and was the class star at Trig and Stats, after finding my place and helping create music that will live on for future classes............
I'm a Senior.
It's my last year at Northern.
My last Marching Band Season.
And by God, we'd better go to another State Championship.
I used to watch the Senior's faces as we stood in the stands- watched them as they wondered if this would be their last game, their last Fight Song, their last crazy cheer, their last field show, their last crazy marching style back to the band room where we celebrated like family.
Now, that's going to be me. While I hold my flute or sax up high, I'm going to be wondering, in the back of my mind, Is this the last time I will celebrate for another touchdown? Is this the last time I will wear my uniform? is this the last time I will march through my drill, stand at attention and hear the applause of the crowd? Is this my last stand? That's going to be me!
I'm going to be the kid that looks at all the Juniors aching to get out and I'm going to tell them, don't wish your high school years away.
Yeah, it has sucked, and it has sucked hard.
And yes, I hate school.
But there are some things that I would stay in high school forever for.
Marching Band, and every single moment that comes with it- the good, the bad, the ugly, the bitchy, the amazing, the fantastic.
Some of my teachers. Mr Simpson, Ms Barrentine, Mr Kimbrough. Life changing teachers- all personally interested in where you're headed and what they can do to help you get there.
Lunch ladies that dance with you in the cafeteria after school while you're celebrating the last day of school.
Random bus drivers that let you get in their bus so you can ride home with your friend.
Guidance counselors that surround you to help you graduate early, Principles and administrators that tease you and say hello every time they see you.
When I graduate, I'm going to walk out of those doors crying, but smiling through my tears.
Because I did it. I worked and fought through online classes, bullies, and fake friends just so I could have the honor of being one of Northern's first few students to graduate early. Just so I didn't have to stay in school til I was 20.
I'm going to walk up on that stage, get my diploma, and throw my cap in the air because I made it. Against all odds, I made it.
But I'm going to cry.
Because- no more marching band. No more late night parties where we celebrate another football game won. No more running up to Kimbrough after the game to get a celebratory hug and no more band camp.
No more watching Kimbrough dunk a basketball on his birthday. No more tugging and pulling and readjusting stinky uniforms that make us feel so tall and proud. No more gloves that don't fit, no more freezing nights where we huddle together to keep warm as we watch the football team score.
How bittersweet is this?
Saturday, May 25, 2013
Friday, May 24, 2013
Saw the first stanza on Tumblr and since I am a poet I decided I would expand it. If it gets back to the original author, let me know- I don't want to plagiarize and I want to give credit where credit is due. To the author....Thank you so much for giving me some inspiration when I had a block. I owe you.
For the constellations of your skin
To brush against the earth of mine
I would swim the seas a thousand times.
For the breeze of your breath
To slip through my lips
I would walk a thousand shores.
For the fire of your love
To send a spark to my heart
I would die a thousand deaths.
For the pull of your tide
To pull me into your arms
I would live a thousand lives.
For our love to live on
For our lives to entertwine
I would go through a thousand lives.
For the constellations of your skin
To brush against the earth of mine
I would swim the seas a thousand times.
For the breeze of your breath
To slip through my lips
I would walk a thousand shores.
For the fire of your love
To send a spark to my heart
I would die a thousand deaths.
For the pull of your tide
To pull me into your arms
I would live a thousand lives.
For our love to live on
For our lives to entertwine
I would go through a thousand lives.
Saturday, April 13, 2013
Being the Daughter of an Herb-freak in Today's Society
Yes, my mom is an herb freak. But I am too. I love it when someone is sick and I can make them feel better through herbs and natural remedies. It's awesome when you can do that.
Everything I've learned about herbs has come from my mom- or at least she has given me the permission and revenues to do so and is not opposed to me experimenting on myself and the kids with different herbs.
But how do you do this when some herbs are illegal? When do you decide that helping someone is more important than not breaking the law? There are some people that would say to obey the law no matter what, and that's fine. I understand their view- after all, Jesus did say to obey the government.
And then there are people like me, who say that if God created it and it's growing on this earth, then we have no right to make it illegal and keep people from a healthy cure. God created it for a reason- and there are so many uses for it that can save lives.
By this time you know I'm talking about Marijuana- or weed, or pot, or MaryJane, or whatever the hell you want to call it.
The government has made us believe so many bad things about it (most of which are true, I will admit) but they are only showing us the bad side, they don't let us see the good healthy side.
How many of us know:
- weed will help with, if not totally cure, asthma. It clears your lungs (misspelled that to say lunch- can you tell I'm hungry?), and helps you breathe better.
-It also makes you think more clearly (If taken in moderate amounts, not if you inhale unhealthy amounts).
-It has been proven to hunt out cancerous cells and kill them- or at least, if not cure you, to work better than chemo and radiation.
-It's also relaxing, much like wine is, only more healthy and more relaxing. It's the perfect finish to a hectic week or even day. This also will lead to a better rest.
-If you are nervous and cannot eat, or your appetite in general is just going down the drain and you're sick and can't eat, take a few hits. Your appetite will come back, without you being high.
-It will cure headaches, stomach aches, and colds.
There are so many uses for it, and yet the government has us convinced that the only things it does is make you a bum, your teeth rot out, and act stupid.
Which, it can, if you don't do it right. But society also has put a lot of stereotypes on it and therefore that's how we see it. The government doesn't like it because it can't really make money off of it. Sure, I mean, if the government is gonna sell it like they sell other medicine, then yes, they can tax it.
But are you really gonna trust an herb that has been messed with by the government? No. Because they will process it and take all the 'healthy' out of it, just like they do raw milk, and you'll get nothing out of it. The government realizes that this will happen, and so they don't make it legal because they know that you're gonna start growing it yourself and then they can't make money on that. Exactly like they've done with raw milk.
SO yeah, it kinda isn't fun being an herb-freak but not being allowed to use one of the most important medicines. Like if you took anesthesia from an anesthesiologist. He wouldn't really have a job! You take pot away from an herb-freak, and you take away the most powerful tool we have.
You can draw your own conclusions from this post. I'm just saying, if it weren't illegal, a lot more people would be/could be a lot healthier.
Thanks to my bro (you know who you are man) and my best friend (yeah, you know who you are too) for teaching me about the uses of herbs and weed.
Everything I've learned about herbs has come from my mom- or at least she has given me the permission and revenues to do so and is not opposed to me experimenting on myself and the kids with different herbs.
But how do you do this when some herbs are illegal? When do you decide that helping someone is more important than not breaking the law? There are some people that would say to obey the law no matter what, and that's fine. I understand their view- after all, Jesus did say to obey the government.
And then there are people like me, who say that if God created it and it's growing on this earth, then we have no right to make it illegal and keep people from a healthy cure. God created it for a reason- and there are so many uses for it that can save lives.
By this time you know I'm talking about Marijuana- or weed, or pot, or MaryJane, or whatever the hell you want to call it.
The government has made us believe so many bad things about it (most of which are true, I will admit) but they are only showing us the bad side, they don't let us see the good healthy side.
How many of us know:
- weed will help with, if not totally cure, asthma. It clears your lungs (misspelled that to say lunch- can you tell I'm hungry?), and helps you breathe better.
-It also makes you think more clearly (If taken in moderate amounts, not if you inhale unhealthy amounts).
-It has been proven to hunt out cancerous cells and kill them- or at least, if not cure you, to work better than chemo and radiation.
-It's also relaxing, much like wine is, only more healthy and more relaxing. It's the perfect finish to a hectic week or even day. This also will lead to a better rest.
-If you are nervous and cannot eat, or your appetite in general is just going down the drain and you're sick and can't eat, take a few hits. Your appetite will come back, without you being high.
-It will cure headaches, stomach aches, and colds.
There are so many uses for it, and yet the government has us convinced that the only things it does is make you a bum, your teeth rot out, and act stupid.
Which, it can, if you don't do it right. But society also has put a lot of stereotypes on it and therefore that's how we see it. The government doesn't like it because it can't really make money off of it. Sure, I mean, if the government is gonna sell it like they sell other medicine, then yes, they can tax it.
But are you really gonna trust an herb that has been messed with by the government? No. Because they will process it and take all the 'healthy' out of it, just like they do raw milk, and you'll get nothing out of it. The government realizes that this will happen, and so they don't make it legal because they know that you're gonna start growing it yourself and then they can't make money on that. Exactly like they've done with raw milk.
SO yeah, it kinda isn't fun being an herb-freak but not being allowed to use one of the most important medicines. Like if you took anesthesia from an anesthesiologist. He wouldn't really have a job! You take pot away from an herb-freak, and you take away the most powerful tool we have.
You can draw your own conclusions from this post. I'm just saying, if it weren't illegal, a lot more people would be/could be a lot healthier.
Thanks to my bro (you know who you are man) and my best friend (yeah, you know who you are too) for teaching me about the uses of herbs and weed.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
I'm back.
I'm back where I have always belonged, where I probably always will belong. With Jewel and the Martins in SC (yes Jewel, I'm going to stay with you forever).
I got here yesterday, after a very long car ride from home, and was very excited to immediately set out on horseback to the church soccer game. The game was pretty awesome- I hadn't played in two years, but it started to all come back to me. I even kicked the ball a few times XD
By the time we got home, I was tired and already sore, so we sort of fell into bed and went to sleep. Early this morning we woke up, did the chores (that is to say, Jewel did the chores and I played with my filly, Lilybet. I love her), saddled up Blaze and Giselle and headed down to DHEC (Dancing Horses Equestrian Center), where Jewel took a few horses through their paces, and Blaze and I got reacquainted (and he remembered that I'm boss.). We took Blaze and another pony (Jewel's show pony) through the course (Well, I loped Blaze around while she did some jumps, then we took them both through the water), which ended up being very interesting.
We came home for a few minutes, grabbed some food, and then headed out to Cameron's, where I mucked out the barn while Jewel took the horses out, and then we both cleaned the paddocks.
Now we're both home. Well, that's not true. I'm home, she went to one more place and then she'll be home. Right now everyone is leaving for the meal at the prison, and me and Gwen are going to be home alone until Jewel gets back.
Tata for now ;)
I'm back where I have always belonged, where I probably always will belong. With Jewel and the Martins in SC (yes Jewel, I'm going to stay with you forever).
I got here yesterday, after a very long car ride from home, and was very excited to immediately set out on horseback to the church soccer game. The game was pretty awesome- I hadn't played in two years, but it started to all come back to me. I even kicked the ball a few times XD
By the time we got home, I was tired and already sore, so we sort of fell into bed and went to sleep. Early this morning we woke up, did the chores (that is to say, Jewel did the chores and I played with my filly, Lilybet. I love her), saddled up Blaze and Giselle and headed down to DHEC (Dancing Horses Equestrian Center), where Jewel took a few horses through their paces, and Blaze and I got reacquainted (and he remembered that I'm boss.). We took Blaze and another pony (Jewel's show pony) through the course (Well, I loped Blaze around while she did some jumps, then we took them both through the water), which ended up being very interesting.
We came home for a few minutes, grabbed some food, and then headed out to Cameron's, where I mucked out the barn while Jewel took the horses out, and then we both cleaned the paddocks.
Now we're both home. Well, that's not true. I'm home, she went to one more place and then she'll be home. Right now everyone is leaving for the meal at the prison, and me and Gwen are going to be home alone until Jewel gets back.
Tata for now ;)
Friday, March 15, 2013
Staring at screens
Reading long books that have no words
At least
I don't really see them
I watch a show
But it doesn't make sense
To me
Because
I don't really
Hear
Anything
Nothing at all.
At school, we learn about
The Holocaust.
It's ok.
Until we get to the images.
The images are what break me.
Not because
Of some gore
Not the emaciated bodies
But it's the screams
It's the voices. The
voices
That scream
That cry out to me
I hear them in my head
They won't stop.
No one else hears them.
They sit there like
This is normal
That they see this
Everyday
Like there is nothing to hear.
Do they not hear them?
Do they not hear the screams?
Can they not understand the
Pleas
The voices
Begging for help?
Once they realize you can hear them
Once they realize you
Can understand them
They will not leave you alone.
They will flood your dreams
With so many colors
(Mainly red)
They will blast their emotions
(Mostly pain and fear)
They will dance to the music
(Music of the guns)
And they won't be still
Until you force them away with
Music.
Music that is so loud it hurts your ears.
You close your eyes
Tightly, now,
And begin to mouth the words.
Focus on the song.
Forget the world
Outside
Your ears exists
Forget the world
Inside
Your very ears can speak
Focus only on the music
That alone will keep the
Masses silent
That alone will make them
Shut up.
Feel the beat.
Let it be so loud
That it rocks you.
It becomes the heart
Of the body.
Let it be your
Driving force.
The thing that
Keeps you alive, the
Thing that protects you.
Don't feel guilty.
You should.
But don't. Don't let it
Take over, don't
Let it tell you
You were
Wrong.
If you look at pictures
And they begin screaming
Scream back at them
Tell them to leave you alone.
They won't,
But it's worth a shot.
And we all say you're crazy.
You say
I'm crazy.
You will not listen
But I know.
I know what I know.
I know what I have been through.
And you don't want it.
But neither do I want
It to go away.
I wouldn't wish
This on my worst enemy.
But I will not part
With this curse.
I don't know
Why it happened to me.
I don't know
Why I want it.
But I will
Not
Part
With it.
Reading long books that have no words
At least
I don't really see them
I watch a show
But it doesn't make sense
To me
Because
I don't really
Hear
Anything
Nothing at all.
At school, we learn about
The Holocaust.
It's ok.
Until we get to the images.
The images are what break me.
Not because
Of some gore
Not the emaciated bodies
But it's the screams
It's the voices. The
voices
That scream
That cry out to me
I hear them in my head
They won't stop.
No one else hears them.
They sit there like
This is normal
That they see this
Everyday
Like there is nothing to hear.
Do they not hear them?
Do they not hear the screams?
Can they not understand the
Pleas
The voices
Begging for help?
Once they realize you can hear them
Once they realize you
Can understand them
They will not leave you alone.
They will flood your dreams
With so many colors
(Mainly red)
They will blast their emotions
(Mostly pain and fear)
They will dance to the music
(Music of the guns)
And they won't be still
Until you force them away with
Music.
Music that is so loud it hurts your ears.
You close your eyes
Tightly, now,
And begin to mouth the words.
Focus on the song.
Forget the world
Outside
Your ears exists
Forget the world
Inside
Your very ears can speak
Focus only on the music
That alone will keep the
Masses silent
That alone will make them
Shut up.
Feel the beat.
Let it be so loud
That it rocks you.
It becomes the heart
Of the body.
Let it be your
Driving force.
The thing that
Keeps you alive, the
Thing that protects you.
Don't feel guilty.
You should.
But don't. Don't let it
Take over, don't
Let it tell you
You were
Wrong.
If you look at pictures
And they begin screaming
Scream back at them
Tell them to leave you alone.
They won't,
But it's worth a shot.
And we all say you're crazy.
You say
I'm crazy.
You will not listen
But I know.
I know what I know.
I know what I have been through.
And you don't want it.
But neither do I want
It to go away.
I wouldn't wish
This on my worst enemy.
But I will not part
With this curse.
I don't know
Why it happened to me.
I don't know
Why I want it.
But I will
Not
Part
With it.
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Lately I've been on some sort of reading marathon in an effort to forget my problems for a little while- escape into the world of murder mysteries or the euphoric lands of unicorns and faeries or even dive down to the underworld to explore unknown regions with dark haired, blue eyed vamps who don't know when I attatch myself to their shadow as they fight a werewolf.
I seem to be on a muder mystery trend right now, reading the Cat Who books. I just emerged from the world of Orson Scott Card- and I thouroughly enjoyed Seventh Son and Red Prophet. I find he writes with a certain humor that makes me giggle out loud in class- and not many books can do that. They might get a smile out of me, but it is a talented writer that can make me laugh.
My latest book, one in the aforementioned The Cat Who series -The Cat Who Turned On and Off- is particularly interesting. I enjoy trying to solve the case before Qwill does, and I might have the answer. I've learned, in watching crime shows and reading books, that the most likely suspect is usually not the guy that did it, even when all evidence points to him/her. Innocent until proven guilty!
Qwill's cats are my favorite animals in any story so far- KoKo and Yum Yum are two siamese cats who are smarter than your average housecat. And, of course, as normal cats, you cannot own them. As Qwill so perfectly puts it: "No one can ever own a cat. You share a common habitation on a basis of equal rights and mutual respect...although somehow the cat always comes out ahead of the deal." (Page 128, paragraph 5)
Its so true!! The way cat's arch their backs, and look down on you no matter what you do. And you always seem to be on their schedule.
A few months ago, I was priveledged to be able to borrow the most remarkable Holocaust book, The Book Theif. This has definetly got to be the most astounding and intellectual book written about the Holocaust that I have ever read. It is written from the perspective of a Hitler Youth member, a Jew, and two conflicted parents. The interesting twist on this, however, is that it is narrated by Death himself. The glorious, terrifying, wonderful moster that all life fears but has no reason to, tells this story of love, loss, and lessons in forgiveness. However, contrary to what it sounds like, this book is not morbid at all.
It's one of those books where you look up after finishing and you wonder how the rest of the world can go on normally. It has the habit of sneaking into your dreams at night and you feel what every character feels. The desperate hope of freedom, of safety, and the horror of dangers.
Once you are finished with that book, come back here and let me know if you can live your life like a normal person.
I seem to be on a muder mystery trend right now, reading the Cat Who books. I just emerged from the world of Orson Scott Card- and I thouroughly enjoyed Seventh Son and Red Prophet. I find he writes with a certain humor that makes me giggle out loud in class- and not many books can do that. They might get a smile out of me, but it is a talented writer that can make me laugh.
My latest book, one in the aforementioned The Cat Who series -The Cat Who Turned On and Off- is particularly interesting. I enjoy trying to solve the case before Qwill does, and I might have the answer. I've learned, in watching crime shows and reading books, that the most likely suspect is usually not the guy that did it, even when all evidence points to him/her. Innocent until proven guilty!
Qwill's cats are my favorite animals in any story so far- KoKo and Yum Yum are two siamese cats who are smarter than your average housecat. And, of course, as normal cats, you cannot own them. As Qwill so perfectly puts it: "No one can ever own a cat. You share a common habitation on a basis of equal rights and mutual respect...although somehow the cat always comes out ahead of the deal." (Page 128, paragraph 5)
Its so true!! The way cat's arch their backs, and look down on you no matter what you do. And you always seem to be on their schedule.
A few months ago, I was priveledged to be able to borrow the most remarkable Holocaust book, The Book Theif. This has definetly got to be the most astounding and intellectual book written about the Holocaust that I have ever read. It is written from the perspective of a Hitler Youth member, a Jew, and two conflicted parents. The interesting twist on this, however, is that it is narrated by Death himself. The glorious, terrifying, wonderful moster that all life fears but has no reason to, tells this story of love, loss, and lessons in forgiveness. However, contrary to what it sounds like, this book is not morbid at all.
It's one of those books where you look up after finishing and you wonder how the rest of the world can go on normally. It has the habit of sneaking into your dreams at night and you feel what every character feels. The desperate hope of freedom, of safety, and the horror of dangers.
Once you are finished with that book, come back here and let me know if you can live your life like a normal person.
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