I have this dream sometimes.

In general, I like telling people about my dreams. They are always weird, linear, and often insightful. I think if I ever write an honest to god autobiography, it'll be nothing but a collection of the dreams I've had in my life. They tell more about me than I could ever capture on my own.

I never talk about this dream. I'm essentially a coward, and this dream just highlights that fact so much.

For every person I have ever met there is at least one thing that I desperately want to say to them that I never will. I know I will never say these things because I know I couldn't face the fall out, and as much of a coward as I am, I'm not one for running away.

In the dream, I say them all.

I tell Francine that our friendship really ended when she left me in my room to tear myself apart.

I tell Tony that the girl who loved him, unconditionally and uncontrollably, slowly drowned in his disinterest, fighting to find the surface and gasping in every breath of hope he offered for ten years. I tell him I hate him for refusing to let me die for so long.

I tell Marita not to make the same mistake my mother made.

I tell my mother that no matter how hurt and scared I was, waiting for her to come help me and never getting what I needed, I'd still wait for her now. That I hate myself for not being able to learn from my mistakes.

I tell my father that while I know he loves his kids, he's never really been present as a father.

I tell my brother that I am more proud of him than I ever thought possible, even as a child when I felt he hung the sun.

I tell my sister that as much as I love her now, there was a time when I hated her just for existing, for having what I knew I never would.

I tell Wendy that I hope when she is old and alone, that she looks back on her life and realizes the gifts she was given and how she turned them all away.

I tell Jessi that she has been a gift. That knowing that I am still capable of thinking of what I can do to bring happiness to another person without completely sacrificing myself has saved me in so many ways.

I tell Meghan that life is not fair, and that you do not get what you deserve. That you fight, with brutal intensity, just to get what you need. That if you fight hard enough, either you win or you break, and there is no telling which until it happens.

I tell Laura not to hide herself away so much, that she's only going to become me, hiding in plain sight with no idea how to stop.

I tell Alicia that she didn't deserve me, that she'd have been so much better off without me at all. I apologize for screwing that up.

I tell Arline that she's not helping her daughter, that never being taught how to tell the truth is so crippling that she will never overcome it on her own.

I tell Mary Jean that I'm gay, just to see the look on her face.

I tell Jeffery that I'm sorry I didn't invite his fiance to my birthday party, but I wasn't strong enough at the time to face my own mother.

I tell Denise that she was the older sister I never had, and no matter how stupid she may have been, how fucked up her life and the lives of those who loved her became, I wouldn't have traded her for anything in the world.

I tell Michelle that she was the older sister I should have had, and that I never regretted that until I had to be one myself.

I tell Eric that he is a better man than he had any right to be.

I tell Christopher that he has a chance to fix what went so wrong for him, no matter what his girlfriend's family may try.

I tell Laura that I was always jealous of what she had that I didn't, how much it hurt to see it there just out of reach, but how amazing it was to share it all, offering myself in return.

I tell Nora that I sold my soul for the scraps off Marci's table, and that for 9 months, I was happier than I have ever been.

I tell Mary that I would have waited for her forever. Even if it had taken her 30 years, I would have answered when she called, but I wasn't strong enough to call her and be dismissed again.

I tell Casi that she is the first person I have ever wanted to change, instead of waiting for the gift I have always thought it to be to be allowed to witness her changing herself.

I tell Paul that he's worth more than he knows and if I thought he would work for it I wouldn't pity him not having what he should.

I tell Joe that he never did a damn thing to me that I didn't let him, that he was nothing more than what I didn't have the courage to do to myself.

I tell Denis that I would have loved him.

I tell Kevin that two out of three wasn't bad.

I tell Pat that it is not just the choices we make that shape who we are, but the ones we don't make as well.

I tell Virginia that I am sorry I didn't realize what was offered to me from the start.

I tell Stewart that I hate him and love him, I miss him and I'm not even sure if he's real anymore, but I honestly pray that I didn't dream it all.

Then I grab my keys, hug and kiss my cat, and leave. I leave and never come back. I dream of all the things that might become of the people I care about, but I never try to find out.

And it's a hollow kind of freedom, everything said that needs to be said, everything done and over. I am always cold, it is always dark, there is never anyone with me, and for once, I am honestly alone. I don't hope or worry about things to come. I don't take responsibility for those around me anymore. I'm no longer overcome with paralyzing fear that I have failed them. I've given them everything I can, and left them to decide what to do with it.

It's always around this point that I wake up. Blinking my eyes open, my sluggish mind wading through the contradictory feelings of freedom and overwhelming weight, I always regret that I have.

I'll never say these things. I'll never walk away, I'll never do what I hoped Joe would every night. Because then there would be no purpose for me to these people anymore. And if I have no purpose, no use, then history shows they'll move on and leave me behind. And that I am terrified of.

I'm not afraid of being alone. Just as I am not afraid of dying. You cease to exist, what is there to be afraid of then? But I am terrified of life. I am dumb in the face of my fear for those I care about. If they leave me, how will I be able to help make sure they live?

On days like today, when I am so tired, I welcome the dream. I revel in the sheer simplicity of it. I feel victorious as I sing and chant and scream and cry everything I know I will never say. I can breathe, my chest no longer tight, my heart no longer racing.

And I wake up with regret. Read More...

I worry about the choices I have made in my life- the ones I have not made perhaps even more.

Tonight, I worry that I am not good enough at anything, that I never will be, because I am drawn only to my own selfish an unrealistic wishes. Wishes that have been constructed specifically to be unattainable, something to always strive for with no hope or risk of ever achieving. At least, that is what I fear I have done.

Tonight, I worry that what I believe I want is exactly what I can not have, and I have chosen these wants because of a deep-seated fear that I am not worthy of having my wishes fulfilled. That, in fact, it is my own belief that I am not worthy that has precluded me from ever reaching my goals. I have no strength to give, I have no power to lend, no gift to exchange with the world to have my strongest dreams come true, because in reality, my strongest dream is to never have what I want.

A storm is slowly making it's loud, lonely, illuminated way past my window. The strong winds will leave a wake of debris to clean away come morning, and the charged air will cause more damage than we have seen this season. I believe that art imitates emotion- perhaps emotion imitates nature. I can hope for now that is the truth, and that with the morning sun will come a lightening of my mood. Somehow, I doubt it.

I wonder at my own uselessness, glad to see my life through brighter days than those that have come before. I can not imagine what would become of me in darker times.

I wonder if my attraction to study is nothing more an a vain attempt to find another time, another place, another people so disconnected from the world, so angry, sad, and useless- to find the proof that I am not outside human nature, that I am redeemable. I fear throwing myself into my study only to be proven wrong. I fear for the world should I be right.

I fear never trying at all. Read More...

Five Years

People always ask

Where do you see yourself in five years?

I don't know why that's the magic time frame, but it certainly seems to be. Everything up to that is thought of as 'preplanning', eventually added up to the ultimate goal at five years. Where do you see your self in 3 months? A year? Five years? Anything more than that seems foolish.

If you asked me when I was 20 where I saw myself at 25 my answer would have been so off the mark it's not even funny. God, the things I had planned. A bachelor's in creative writing and philosophy. A master's in Theology, Philosophy, and/or Theater. A job in theater, moving the world through spoken word- teaching and learning and living through performance. A portfolio full of prose and poems and plays and maybe a novella. Resume full of bit parts, community theater, failed experiments and volunteering. Friends I never talked to, acquaintances who would say- voices full of pity- "she thinks she's going to change the world", co-workers who would say "we're changing the world and they'll probably never notice". A shitty apartment in a worse part of The City. No license. What sister? Oh, yeah, her. I think she's graduating soon, maybe I'll have time to call next week. And I still would have been happy. Well, maybe not. Perhaps lonely but sill content.

I have experiences now I never would have, had my life gone as I once dreamed. There are things I wish I could forget, but nothing I regret. I wouldn't change even one heartbreaking moment. I try not to let fear rule my life, and I often fail, anger later burning through my chest. Why did I do that? Why didn't I do this? But in this one way, I am glad to fall to fear. I fear what I would not know without each and every moment that has led me here. To this moment. To this plan.

It's not so different than the first, but the changes are profound. Where do I see myself in three months? A year? Five years? A woman who has helped another find herself, mold herself into my favorite person in the world. A license, a car. The same car. A shitty apartment in a worse part of a city. Friends I couldn't live without, acquaintances who say- voices full of pity- "she thinks she's going to change the world", co-workers who say "we're changing the world and they'll probably never notice". A portfolio full of prose and poems and plays and maybe a novella. Resume full of volunteering and teaching and changing and being changed. A job. Changing the world through living- teaching and learning and performing through passion. A piece of paper- maybe two, hell, maybe three- that proves nothing but that I know how to work a system, a life that proves I know myself, my passions, my world.

I've recently been called a cynic and an idealist. I can believe both at this moment. I used to take pride in being a walking contradiction. I know myself much better now, and while I still am in many cases contradictory with the world, my family, my friends, even myself, I am not ready to submit to the weight of that contradiction. If a cynic is just a disappointed idealist, then I know what I must do.

So, the plan. Where do I see myself in three months? With a job. A part time job, probably in retail, hopefully somewhere I don't mind being. A place I would use the employee discount at least. Getting ready to make the first payment on a full list of classes at the cc. Still living with my father.

And in a year? Well, we'll skip to 'a year and bit, ok closer to two years' instead. Getting ready to transfer to a 4-year to finish off that little piece of paper that people erroneously believe says I am not an idiot. Hopefully a TESOL Certificate. Possibly still working part time. Possibly not at the same retail shop, discount or no. Maybe even volunteering for something I care about- leaning toward tutoring, ESL, and literacy, though other things are still very muchly so in the running. Stilling living with my father. Watching my sister graduate high school. Moving her off to college. Freaking out about being bored and lonely and scared shitless for her to Cassi and Pat and Francine and Tony and Virginia and Meghan and anyone else who will listen.

And in five years? Using that TESOL cert in another country. Hopefully one with some studies or digs or Master's programs that I'd like to get into. I figure it's got to be easier to get in if I'm already there. At least, I hope so. o_0 A woman who has helped another find herself, mold herself into my favorite person in the world. A life that proves I know myself, my passions, my world.

It's a loose plan, but so far, I like it. Read More...

So, to be honest...

Posting here actually helped me feel a little better. I don't know exactly how it works, doesn't make any logical sense to me, but I guess psychology works for me, too. I'm always spouting things at the rest of the world that while I do believe for others, I don't believe for myself. In this case: sometimes you just need to get things out, even if no one else knows it.

I tell people this all the time. People who have a hard time expressing themselves, people who feel no one is listening, people who just want to forget. I tell them that they'll explode without release, that the only one who needs to hear is themselves, that they'll never forget but maybe they can let go, and even if there is no one to send a letter to putting the the words to paper in itself can be freeing. And I do believe that, I've seen it a million times it seems. I just never though it would work so well for me.

And I still feel... well, everything I felt earlier this week, but somehow it's more manageable, so I guess it's working.

I'll be honest, my biggest fear is that it would make me feel more lonely. I've been very lonely recently. It happens sometimes- more often than I will generally admit to, really. More than that, I feel very alone. You know that cliche of being alone in a crowded room? Yeah, not like that. But even the short reprieve I seem to feel when around others is just a distraction.

It's not often, but I do get painfully frustrated with my sex life. Trust me, it's really not often. I tend not to think about it as much as one would think for how much time I spend thinking, talking, and reading about other people's (real or fictional) sex lives, but it does come up every couple of years. Especially at times like now, when I am feeling so alone. Sometimes I think my brain registers a desire for intimacy, and when no viable options for emotional intimacy present themselves my body defaults to a desire for physical intimacy.

Other times I think I've just needed a hug for a really long time.

I know it's not a good idea for me to be involved with anyone right now, but I really want. I'm beginning to think it never will be a good idea- sort of like having kids, you can never really afford it, but you do it anyway and you make it work. Maybe this is a close as I'll ever get to being in a good place to date. There are things in my head that I don't want there anymore, things that come up so quickly and without warning when other people are involved, things that make me a horrible person to date.

I used to pride myself on being low-maintenance. And I was, I really was. I'd do pretty much anything, talk about pretty much anything, took almost nothing to heart. I didn't care how much time you spend with your friends, if a week goes by and I don't talk to you I assume we were both busy, you didn't even have to be nicer to me than anyone else. Just sit by me, don't be afraid to talk to me or touch me in front of other people, tell me you missed me or you're glad to see me every once and a while and make some time for just the two of us at least once a month and I was happy. Easy as pie, really.

Now, I feel abandoned or unworthy or some other tripe when I go a week without someone calling me. Not everyone, just if a week goes by and no one has called me, I feel like shit. I second guess everything I think, feel and do. I'm begging for someone to save me from myself most days and I long for physical affection so much it hurts. I've become clingy. I hate clingy.

And on top of that, I'm seriously messed up. I feel the need to hide myself from people so much more now than ever and yet I really want someone to know me well enough to know when I am hiding and push me out of it. I've been intimate a handful of times since I crawled my ass out of that room and now. Now I feel like I know nothing. People tell me no to worry about it, it's like riding a bike, you never really forget. But they're wrong. I have forgotten. I'm as nervous and unskilled as a virgin. More than that, I'm so terrified.

I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. When is he going to hit me? When is she going to tell me to get out? When are they going to break me? I've been through a lot in my short life, and it's left me with some really... shameful problems.

I was molested as a child. I don't think of it that way though, even still to this day. I remember how much it hurt. I remember how scared I was. I remember how he would touch me, pull me to him and wrap me in his arms. Gentle, like I was something fragile and precious. I remember what he would say, how I was beautiful and smart and good, that he loved me. I remember thinking that I should want this, that it was wrong and dirty and no good for me. I remember that I really did want it. I remember feeling betrayed when he left, waiting for him to come back for me, wondering what I had done wrong to make him leave so suddenly. Later, I remember being angry at my parents, thinking they had found out and taken him from me. But I was smart even at eight and I knew that little girls who were hurt by adults had to go to doctors and see lawyers and I never did. I remember I hated him for leaving, and I hated myself for loosing him.

I remember being told it was just a bad dream. That the man who had been sent to jail for molesting his own daughters had never touched me, had never even touched them. At first I was so angry. Who were they to tell me it wasn't real. I loved him and he loved me and I swore they would take that away from me. Then, later, I was confused. She was so sure, patting me on the head and telling me it was only a bad dream, even tucking me back into bed and smiling so sweetly at me. She was always right.

I still don't know what's true. If I'm a 'troubled' adult because of what happened, or if I was a disturbed child because of what didn't. I think maybe I'm both. I don't have the courage to ask again. Either option scares the hell out of me.

It's weird, because I actually remember remembering. I have very few memories at all before the age of five, who does really? I do remember my parent's divorce, right after Stewart left. I remember being sad and angry and wondering what I done wrong, I don't really remember why. As an adult, I can't tell if it was the mixed up feelings of a little girl loosing her family or something else. I just remember being eight, a dream that had me waking up panting, scared and sad and excited and remembering. But I knew what Stewart had gone to jail for, I knew what it meant. My parents never believed he was guilty. I knew his sentence had been longer because he stabbed someone while he was there. He said it was the guy who actually did it. What if he wasn't lying. What if it was just the workings of an overly imaginative eight year old who was too smart for here own good?

It could be. By eight I knew what sex was, I knew how it worked, I had mental images that were accurate. I knew what a hymen was, where it was, that it would hurt to have sex the first time, perhaps longer than that if the penis was too large to fit into the vagina without tearing. What if I did just dream it up. At eight. What the hell does that say about me?

What bothers me more, is that I've never quite been able to shake the feeling of love I had in the memory. It's been 20 years and I still compare my relationships to it. If I didn't make it up that's pretty sick. If I did, well, that's never going to work out for me. Reality is never like your fantasies.

I don't know. I started all of this because I was talking about being lonely. I was going to give a brief detail of all the past relationship baggage that makes me undateable. Hah. "Brief" never works out for me. Either way, I think that's enough baggage for now. I'm really tired and I haven't been sleeping well so I'm going try to catch some sleep now. Read More...

So, here's the thing

I miss having an outlet for... well, life. See, I didn't have internet for, well, too long to think about really. And for a while there I didn't have a phone I Could Call long distance on. And now I don't have a C key on my keyboard (sorry for the Capitals but that's what I've got right now). So, most of my forums for bitching are obsolete.

No one reads anywhere I used to post things (really, no one has for a while but I Can't ignore it now). For the places I now post things, it's too personal. I rant online because I'm emotionally stunted and Can't rant to people I see in person on a regular basis. The places I post now are riddled with people from my everyday life. Even like, LJ, where I have like, two friends, one is my little sister. And I Can't Call people and rant over the phone because I am emotionally aware enough to know that Calling someone I haven't spoken to in almost a year just to bitch is so not Cool, and everyone I have been able to keep in touch with is local due to my lack of long distance.

So, anonymous forums are no longer satisfying because I get no readers/feedback. All other forums for bitching are too stressful because the only people I do Connect with are RL people. But I sill have things to rant about, things to work through, etc, etc. Fail.

So, here I am. I know no one is going to read this, and when I am done I will either feel the same, or worse, but it's better than trying to talk to someone that I will later see in person.

And how pathetic is that? I try talking to my friends- I've got some really good ones, you know? People I know I Could tell just about anything and we'd still be ok. People who would listen and try to give me what I need in the Conversation. And I try, I do. But I'm on the phone, or I'm looking at them, and I open my mouth and nothing Comes out. Nothing important anyway. Intellectually I know these people would never intentionally judge me or anything, but I just Can't do it.

Sometimes I Can. But that's, well, that's just well past my limit. And it's happening more and more, recently. In the past six months I have ended up at my friends house (mostly) quietly loosing my mind at least three times. Once, I just didn't want to be alone so I went there and slept. Once, I ended up talking about depressing stuff and trying (and kinda failing) to not Cry. Once, I didn't say a damn thing I just bawled like a baby for a few minutes and then got over it. That time I was told I freaked out faster than anyone else. Ha. Oh! and at least twice I have lost it not in person, too. Now, really? That's a ridiculous amount of freaking out in six months. And in front of other people, too. Not Cool. And always with the same two people.

And it just keeps getting worse. Because the more it happens, the worse I feel. I feel like I am being a burden on these two people but I don't know what else to do. And the last thing in the world I want to be is a burden to them. They have helped me out a lot during our friendships, and they've got a lot going on right now (always, but now a bit more than usual), and I just. I hate to make them more stressed and they are both the type of people that seem to get stressed when someone they Care for freaks out (but then, who doesn't really?).

And we have to take into Consideration my own weird stupid thing with emotions and trust and blah blah blah. Talking about my emotions is really stupidly hard for me. Painful even on the mid-levels. And terrifying. Because if I do that, if I go there, I am trusting them not to use it against me in the future. I am trusting them not to use it against me in the right now. But more than anything, I am trusting them to listen. I've found through the years that it's hard to find people who actually do that. They pretend well, make you believe they are listening, that they Care, may even believe it themselves, but they don't. Not that I expect that of these two people, but once it happens enough, you fear it from everyone.

So, to avoid the terrifying idea of talking about my emotions, the ordeal of freaking out too often, or the guilt ridden prospect of Calling old friends and doing nothing but rant, here I am. Kinda sad. But I guess I did it to myself, like always.

I'm unemployed and living at my father's apartment. Again. Yeah, tried the whole living on my own thing, wasn't for me. That's a lie. I loved it even when I hated it. But, apparently, I just Couldn't hack it. Made it a year keeping myself afloat, and another six months with what I would Call a drastic amount of help from my parents. Seems that no matter how much I want to be a productive member of society, I just Can't do it. Obviously there is something in my brain that keeps triggering that self-destruct switch. I've toyed with different theories on what and why, but none of them seem to fit just right. I Can kinda see it Coming now, but I have no idea how to stop it, yet. Maybe next time, right? Yeah, right.

The more terrifying development than living with the parents again is that I seem to be back on the fanfiC. I say that like it Crack or meth or something. For me, I guess, it kinda is. I guess it's not as bad as it was before, but then again, I think maybe I'm just better at hiding it. I Can still go a day or even two with out, but it's getting harder. I don't have the option of just getting rid of the Computer, I have to get a job and you Can't do that without a Computer around here (I tried). I try to stay away from it when my sister is here, but it's hard when I have no money to do anything and she reads fiC too. I'm still talking to people, and I'm Careful not to meniton fiC too much when I do, which I guess is actually a bad thing. I do it partially be Cause I don't want to be thinking about fiC all the time, and partially because I don't want them to know how much I really am.

I don't even know who to talk to on that front. I get the distinct impression that the people I would talk to about it, just don't get it. I'm not willing to try to talk to my mother about it. Despite the many Conversations I've had with her about how and why I went so far over the deep end and she didn't notice last time, I'm not quiet secure in the idea that she'll actually Care this time to risk that kind of emotional trauma again. I know my sister doesn't understand, and I refuse to burden her with something like my mental break down(s). And I really don't think my friends get it.

I mean, I Could try talking to the few friends I still have from before, but... Well, too be honest, they didn't know what to do last time I went down this road so they just didn't do anything and held faith in the idea ha I would be strong enough to make it through on my own. Nice to know they have that kind of faith in me, but not so reassuring when I know myself a bit better than they do and I don't have that faith at all. And my friends out here? Well, they didn't know me before, they didn't actually see how bad it was, and I think they Can't imagine it either. They Can't see what kind of impact it really had on me, how different I am from before, how hard I really worked at getting any of myself back, how hard I sill work not to loose it all over again. Part of me is glad of that. I remember the looks, the Careful words and whispered language. It was so much harder to be stronger than this thing when everyone is waiting for you to break, and laughing at how easily you do. I mean, really? FanFiC? What kind of addiction is that, right? Mine.

I don't know what to do. I want to Crawl into bed and stay there until I have Control over myself again, but I Can't. I'll never get Control back that way. I want to say fuck it and just dig and dig and dig until I reach the Core again and Claw my way back out. It's the only way I know how to fight this, give in, give up, and when there is nothing left to fight for, make a decision and do something about it. But I... I Can't risk it. I know I Could get to the point again, but I Can't let myself. Because I don't know what the decision would be, how Could I? And there is a lot more on the line this time.

I'd like to believe that even in that moment of 'do or die' I would pick 'do'. That I wouldn't be willing to leave my friends, and more importantly, my sister. But I Can't say that for sure. I remember that moment more Clearly than any other in my life. There is no friend, no family, no you to think of in that moment. In that moment you realize that soul-sucking space vampires are real, that dementors do lurk in the shadows. Every thing that ever made you happy is a distant memory and you're not even left with the sharp brittle edge of pain. There's just nothing. A gaping vastness that Consumes all, and you Can either let it dag you under so that you become nothing yourself, or you Can fight for your life, a life you don't even remember, but either way, you know it's going to get better. There is no way it Couldn't at that point. I made the hard Choice last time- I decided to fight. There was enough of me left to know that I didn't want to go out like that. For the first time in months I felt an emotion- anger. And I used it to fuel me, to get me off that floor, away from that abyss, and to dig myself out of the hole I had buried myself in. I don't know if there would be enough of me left to do it again. I don't know if I would even Choose to do so if there were enough of me to want to- it didn't work last time apparently, because here I am again. Looking down into the never ending blackness of that hole and just waiting to trip, waiting for something to push me over, and I don't know how to back away.

I don't know. I guess, right now, at 4:30 in the morning, there's nothing much I Can do. I guess I'll just put this out there, into the atmosphere, and hope that I don't regret it. I'm not even going to keep my fingers Crossed that the people I don't want to read this don't, or that anyone does. I'm just gonna put it out there, and hope that either way, that's enough for now. Read More...

Things to Believe In

Belief is a great thing. And like all great things, it holds the potential for great consequences, for even when talking in the abstract, Stan was right when he bastardized various important historical figures and resources in saying "With great power there must come-- great responsibility". As such, Belief can take responsibility for some of the greatest things in human history, good and bad.

That being said, Belief can also be nothing more than a scapegoat at times.

In this entry, belief is neither. It is simply, something to toy with. For in this entry, I feel the need to expound upon ten of my closest and dearest held beliefs. Prepare yourselves for a most exciting experience in absurdian philosophy- one of my closest and dearest friends.



Belief 1: One should always hold belief to a completely impossible standard. In doing so, never will one find that a belief has slipped under the radar unnoticed. For, it would be quite difficult to miss that one suddenly holds the belief that one's reality is nothing more than a drop of water on a monstrously large plant in another reality's only surviving greenhouse.

Belief 2: Resolutions, of any sort, should always be taken seriously. That is, as long as those resolutions are never serious.

Belief 3: The main goal of life should always be to learn anything unknown in the most complete manner possible. If one should find that the intelligent thoughts of the world have become old hat, then one should begin going about learning all of the unintelligent thoughts as well. Never underestimate the importance of learning the layout of the average Emergency Room.

Belief 4: One should never choose a favorite sporting team on anything resembling merit. Instead, the choice should be made do to some intangible connection to said team that has absolutely nothing to do with sport.

Belief 5: A book should never be read in the same place twice. This should be upheld physically, mentally, and emotionally. If, in holding to this belief, one has has found that they have gone through life without ever rereading a piece of literature, one has failed at life.

Belief 6: All things are made better by being orange.

Belief 7: One should always be prejudiced in some manner. There will never be a challenge as seemingly insurmountable and obviously enlightening as overcoming one's own prejudice.

Belief 8: One should never strive to overcome all mortal sin. These sins lead yet to greater understanding of one's self and world. Lust may lead to love. Sloth may lead to a greater understanding of one's self expectations and ability to uphold them. Greed and Gluttony may lead to wealth- of price, mind, and body- that, when used appropriately, may allow one to look beyond the trials and tribulations of one's own life and see clearer the world around them. Envy and Wrath may lead to ambition. And Pride, more than all others, should be sustained through all life. For it is Pride that will allow man to taste these lesser sins with out indulging. It is the lack of Pride that should be a sin, for without Pride, all would-be virtues turn to ash.

Belief 9: The equal and opposite reaction to war is not peace but creation. Just as the equal and opposite reaction to up is not status but down. A fluid cause must have a fluid reaction, not a static one.

Belief 10: One should never loose sight of the fact that Belief is merely a forceful reaction to uncertainty.

And a newly added Belief as a bonus: One should never write a Twenty-First Century Blog after having read three Nineteenth Century Novels in a row.
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Wow

Life Sucks. Life really really sucks.

Ok, no, I take it back. Life doesn't suck, I suck.

Yeah, so, you'll never guess what I did today. Today, I los my job. Yup. I got fired. Cause I was STUPID. Don't know why I did it, but I did. And while I was doing I was trying to stop myself, but it didn;t work. I kept saying "You're gonna gett fired and you really can't do that right now. Pull yourself together damn it." But it didn;t work, and I was an idiot, and irresponcible and I sucked and now. Now I am unemployed.

I. Suck. Read More...

I did it...

And I bet you thought I wasn't gonna.
I bet you thought this would turn out just like the last time- big talker can't walk the walk and all that.
Yeah, well I can't blame you. Sorta though it would go that way myself.
But it hasn't.
Oh, no. for once, Swanky has followed through on something.

That's right.

Swanky has gotten an apartment of her very own.



SQUEE!

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I'm taking my toys and leaving. *huff*

So, life went an go very busy. Haven't really had time to talk to much of anyone recently, but there are a few things going on I really want to tell you all about. So here I am.

Does everyone know that my father lost his job in November? Well, he did, and we've been pretty much living off my dime since. Which is BAD, because I can't afford all the crap we have. But, I've been doing an ok job I think. Nothing has gotten turned off, yet, and everything has some sort of payment on it. Except for my loans, but, ask them, it's just m credit going to hell there, certainly not as important as THEIR bills.

Yeah, that's a little annoying. I man, in all honesty, of the bills we have, the student loans are just about last on my list of priorities. I mean, can't very well not pay the gas or electric. Have to keep the car, so that has to get paid, need the car insurance, so that's another thing. Also, got to keep the phone and internet so that my father can continue his job search. We need gas for the cars so that Mike and I can get to work, and we need food in the house. So really, what else am I gonna cut out? The rent, cause yeah, I am NOT even attempting to pay that monstrous bill for this place. It's not worth it, and if they can take the approach of "It's not my credit, why do I care?" with me, then I can do it with them.

So, I told them that we needed to find a place more within my budget and that rather than paying the rent for Jan, we should use that money for moving costs so we can be out before the eviction process really takes hold. That was in early Dec. I gave them a MONTH to find places to look at, set up appts, and pick some place. More than a month when you consider that I told them we would be planing on moving he weekend of Jan 16th, even. Did the do that? No. Last weekend I found places in what I thought would be the area's Michael wants to stay in (needs to be south so he's close to his studio space) and that had everything my father wants (needs to include washer/dryer, off street parking, and at least two bed rooms) and with in my price range (I'll go all the way up to 700/month though really, I can barely afford 500 a month). So, I found about 25 of these places, and I asked them to (a) pick a few they thought looked most promising and (b) let me know what times/days they would be available to go look at them. In the mean time, I paid the other bills and made the last installment on December's rent instead of paying my loans. Did they bother to even look at what I gave them? No. it was a little more than frustrating.

So, Wednesday comes around, New Year's Eve, and I am heading out to Virginia's house just as my brother gets home. Which it was good I caught him, because even still I never see him and I was gonna have like two dollars left this week after paying the electric and we would need smokes and gas through to the 9th when I get paid again. So my father asks him if he's cashed his check yet and has the 50 he's been giving each week to help with bills (yeah, he's only giving 50, which granted, is about 1/3 of his weekly pay, but it leaves him with 100 each week, where as I make about 630 every two weeks and have given at least 590 each pay check since dad lost his job. Not exactly fair, but what ever, bitching about it won't change anything). So, no, he hadn't cashed his check yet. And then, THEN, he says to dad "Well, I'm not working for the next 8 days so you might want to ask HER how much SHE makes and what SHE'S gonna give." Like I haven't done anything up to this point. Which, of course, I can see where he got that idea from. Because his 200 bucks a month is so paying for the phone and internet, the electricity, Dec rent, the gas, smokes for me and dad, food for the house, gas for both cars, and, oh yeah, CHRISTMAS GIFTS. Yeah, that was all covered on his 200 bucks. Fucking asshole. But, I didn't say anything about it, just told him AGAIN to look over the apartments and left for Virginia's.

Now, I have been doing a very good job of not freaking out over all this. I freaked a bit in late November when my account wen in the arrears because I had forgotten to turn off one of my automatic payments. For like three days I was tearing through my house trying to find things to sell because it was gonna be almost two weeks before I would get paid again and at that rate, I'd owe the bank half of my pay check. Then I found out that my bank doesn't charge daily when you go over. You get the bounce charge, and then that's it. So I stopped freaking out and called a few places to re-arrange payments. It was fine. When Michael told me he wouldn't be getting paid for the next 8 days, which, in Michael-speak means "fuck you I'm not giving you the 50 bucks", I was freaking again. I mean, the car was almost empty, we had very little food, and, oh hey, one pack of smokes each! I was totally freaking about what the hell we were gonna do for the next week and a half until my pay check. Butt I still didn't say anything about it to Mike or dad. I did bitch about it all to Virginia and Cassie, and even Meghan at New Years. Cassie and Virginia both offered to give me 20 bucks for the week, but I told them no. This is not my fuck up and my friends, who are just as broke as I am, will not pay for it. My father can just ask his buddy Stan for some money for the week.

So, I get home that night and my brother was still up, so we were talking a bit. I asked him if he had had a chance o look at the list of apartments again, and he was like "No, and I'm not going to." Because he doesn't know what hes doing, but really, because he knows he doesn't have to and that someone else will do it for him. Then he gets to bitch all he wants about where we move because he didn't pick it. So, being as frustrated as I was, I told him that if he and Dad hadn't figured out what the hell they were gonna do and given me some feed back on these things by the middle of the month I was just gonna go do it myself, and no, not for all of us. For me. Michael's response? "If you think you can afford it, then go ahead." So, I told him I would. And when my father woke up the next morning I told him I was gonna find my own place and started looking.

So, This coming pay check, I am making payments on MY bills, screw the gas, they can't turn us off until march anyway, and you know what? I have plenty of blankets and sweaters and the like. I can shower at a friends house of they cut our heat and hot water. I'll pay the phone/internet- it's in my name- and my loans. And everything else is going into my savings account for a deposit and first months rent. I went to see four studios in the city on Friday. Not the greatest buildings, but it's 460/month, everything included, so it's in my budget. I have already called/emailed about a few "roommate" wanted ads, and a few other studios. I actually haven't found many efficiencies. But, I'm doing this, damn it all. I can afford up to 500 for rent and utilities. As long as I stay below about 450 for rent I should be fine. I'll still be able to pay on my back bills and my loans. I don't have that many or large bills anyway. One more payment of 175 and my credit card is paid off. the following month I'll give 175 to the hospital and get rid of that bill, and then I have about 300 to a old cell phone, and 180 to an old bank. That's it, as far as I Know. So, yeah, not the greatest credit, but... What can you do. Keeping it at about 175 towards back bills a month, like I have been doing since October, I should be all done by the end of May. Which would ROCK. It'll be the first time in my LIFE that there are no bills outstanding in my name. And as long as I can get the rent and utilities for under 500, I can stick to that budget.

I even added in the price of public transportation when I did my budget. It'll take me 1-1 1/2 hours to get to work, but it's a lot cheaper, and for me, a lot less stressful. Most of the places I have been looking at are in he Tower Grove area, the Loop, Central West End, and South City. Which are all very bus friendly areas. Now, I know nothing about the City, so I won't know what the neighborhoods are like until I get there to see them, but I'm stupidly easy to please with those things. I am not afraid of the city, actually, standing on a porch at night in the 'burbs or less freaks me out more than the ghetto. ANIMALS. I freak out every time at Wrockstock if I have to walk somewhere in the dark alone. o_0 Now, walk me around Battery City or Brooklyn in the middle of the night and I feel fine. *Shrug* Don't ask me why.

So, I have to go look at more places. If any of my friends are looking to get into a roommate situation and don't mind that I smoke, let me know! I would even be willing to be an outside smoker, but the smell still clings to my hair and clothes and all that. But i would be cool to room with a friend, have some moral support for each other as we get out there on our own. ^_^

Well, I have to get back to the search, and clean my room again. Wish me luck!
Much love,
~Swanky
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Always use a condom when Role Playing

Hello again all! I have no idea who long it has actually been since my las update... two, maybe tree weeks? Well, either way, it's better than usual.

So, again, a fair amount has happened since my last post. A visit from Laura, learning to ice skate, Thanksgiving and totally disrespecting my elders, Even a whole bunch of cleaning... of other people's houses. Let's try to go in order...


So, not long after my last post (like a day or so I think) was the weekend before Thanksgiving. I went to a pot-luck style Thanksgiving dinner at my friend Abby's house, which was really fun. And had great food. Also, Abby is a chef- or at least, she WAS before her arm went kaput and she had to change careers) so, obviously, the food was good. I think the best parts of the day were having a tickle-fest with my sister on the living room floor, taking part in the filking of "Yellow Submarine" into "We're all part of the Weasley Family", and that when I asked Abby if she would like me to leave the little bit of my candied yams that were left she practically whimpered. It was kinda awesome that a woman who was a rather good professional chef for 15 years liked my yams that much. ^_^

So, that was Sunday morning/afternoon. That evening, we all headed up North to see another one of those Wizard Rock shows my sister and I are obsessed with. Now, my father had just been laid off on Friday. I was a bit down about this, and so was my sister. I realized about ten minutes after getting there that there was a good chance that this pay check might be our last chance to buy anything from a Wrock show for a good long while. Basically, I bought $45 worth of junk to make us feel better. I got a tee-shirt for my sister, a CD of wrock for us to share, and two cd's of the 'Muggle' band of one of the guys playing for myself. I say it was worth it. We felt better for the night, and if I lost about 15 bucks out of my next pay check from being over-drawn, well, let's say it was good practice of not freaking out when I'm over drawn way too often in the near future.

At least, the CD's I got were well worth it. I am sort of obsessed with this one band, from Mr. Matt Majaciamo; the Jenna Campaign. That's one thing I will always be grateful to wizard rock for- it's introduced me to a lot of 'real' music that could be called the Bob Dylans of my generation. Also, unlike the bands that actually get popular, most people involved in wrock are dedicated movers-and-shakers, very active in the world around them. When they write a song about the sorry state of the world, 95% of the time you can be sure they are actually trying to do something to change it. They sort of restore my flagging faith in my generation.

So, of course, then there was working on Monday Tuesday and WEd, and then my Thanksgiving prep started. I went down to get my sister and headed over to V's house after work on Wed to help her get ready for her very first time cooking Thanksgiving dinner. For 16 people. One of which was an ornery and ungrateful old woman who I wanted to choke. Instead, I just kept saying things like "Woman, go in the other room and shut it. You'll eat what ever Virginia puts on that table and you will like it or, god as my witness, you will regret it." She used to like me. Ha. She even thought to come outside while I was smoking to 'have a talk with me' about respecting my elders. I told her that I don't give too shits if she's in her 60's. It's really not that great of an accomplishment to live that long, humans have been doing it for millenia, and that if she wanted me to start treating her with respect she better start treating her granddaughter with some. The phrases "pain in the ass old woman" and "bite me" were both featured prominantly in that conversation.

On an up note- not that that wasn't really up note because, really? I had the time of my life putting that woman in her place every half and hour, and V had fun watching, too- I spent a good 45 mins after dinner sitting on the floor in front of Previne, V's Pakistani mother-in-law, trying to learn Urdu and Arabic and having her tell me how I should come visit her in Pakistan some day. That was lots of fun, actually. And it pissed V's grandmother off all over again. Because, you, this 70 year old woman should just learn English if she is going to come visit this country. 70. VISIT.

OH! And Pervine wouldn't eat the pizza we got on Wed night because it was cut at the pizza place with the same cuter that had run through the pizzas with pork toppings. Well, V's grandmother just thought that was ridiculous, and why don't they eat pork anyway? When V explained that the rule of not eating pork is in all three Abrahamic holy books, she exclaimed "It's not in my bible!" So, I, of course, had to prove her wrong on that one, and then she said, and I quote, "Well, that was before it was rewritten." At which I laughed tried really hard to end the conversation, which she wouldn't let me do. Oh, if looks could kill when I explained to her that she had just said that her bible had been "re-written" and was therefore, no longer the word of God, but the word of Random!editor Guys.

Ok, so that was the offical Thanksgiving- and yes, the food was all really good. Laura arrived later that night, and we had left overs with her, and then sat around chatting. It was fun. She was here for a full week and a little more- she just left yesterday morning. Here's a good rundown of what we did while she was here:

Friday, after Thanksgiving, I took Laura and Virginia to see Trans-Siberian Orchestra for their Christmas gifts. I was an awesome show- though I sort of which that they had done one of their other albums for the 'story' half of the show as it was the same one we had seen last time. Virginia, a music major who's ultimate dream in life would be to conduct a rock-orchestra, had never heard of them before. It was awesome getting to introduce her to their magnificence. She enjoyed herself, and so did Laura, so it was all good.

Randomly, when the narrator was talking about how man could wish on an light, not just a star, and one man who was wishing that he was not so lonely for Christmas, I got an idea for a Clark/Lex story. I HATE Superman. But I thought, awe, how cute would it be if Lex had wished for a friend on Clark's meteorite? Yeah... Totally random.

On Sat, I took Laura out with Cassie and Laura and we went ice skating. It was fun and I made a hockey player from California blush. Cassie's big observation of the day? "Wow, you are a lot more forward with Laura around!" We both laughed hysterically at that. Also, by the end of the day I was rather impressed with myself. For years I have been trying to learn how to ice skate nearly every year, and every year I injure myself and end up having to give up with in like half an hour because my ankles just can't take it. We were there for three hours, and I didn't give up, even if I did take a good number of smoke breaks. By the end of the day, I had even managed to skate the six feet from the last curve to the exit all by myself. I do have to say that a lot of that was due to Cassie. Never knew that learning to skate with someone who can skate and *gasp and awe* has some sense of balance would make things so much easier. ^_-

Later that night we went up to Jellystone Park (you know, where Yogi Bear is based) and drove through Santa's Magical Kingdom or some such. It's supposedly the biggest Christmas light display in the US. Or at least, in the mid-west. It was a lot of fun, and I even got Laura and Cassie to skip with me and sing Christmas carols like we were five. Again, Cassie was shocked by the difference in my behavior with Laura around. But, in honesty, as I explained to her, my look!-I'm-FIVE! act was all because of the Christmas stuff and OMG!SANTA CLAUSE! not because of Laura. Despite everything, Christmas is still my favorite holiday and whenever I am given the chance, I love to act like a kid for the holidays. ^_^ I promised Cassie that one day this holiday me, her and Virginia would all get together with their kids so I could be all childish for the holidays. ^_^

Speaking of which. Last week I had this urge to take some kids to the zoo. You know, kids who like the zoo. Ones who are still impressed with how tall the giraffes are and how weird hyenas look. Well, I made the mistake of mentioning to Cassie this while we were skating, and now she has been bugging me about "maternal clocks" and "getting settled down" and the like. She even had this huge conversation with me about how she thinks I am the type of person who would make a great foster parent. That way I could have kids, but never really have to have kids, since I keep saying I would get sick of being a parent too fast. I tend to disagree. See, the kids I would 'foster' would end up making it to the 'family' level in my head and I just wouldn't be able to give them up. In case people haven't noticed yet, when you make it to the family level in my life, there is no getting rid of me.

Ok, so that was Sat. I was supposed to work that day, but honestly, I just didn't want to. On Sunday Laura and I pretty much just hung around her hotel with my sister playing video games. Which is pretty much how the rest of the week went too. Go to work, go out to dinner, go play video games, go to bed, lather rinse repeat... But I called off work on Thursday and took Laura to the Arch. It was nice. There was no one farting at the top. We even went through the museum and bought ridiculous expensive and rather gross candy we have never heard of from the little 'pioneer' store there.

Oh, so here is the thing with the title: Laura bought a Wii, and extra controlers with these colored latex 'skins' so we wouldn't get our Wiimote's confused. Seeing where I came up with this now? Yes, that's right, while trying to get one of these skins on a wiimote for my sister, I made mention of how it was like a wiimote condom. There was no end of the "safe role playing" jokes from there. It sort of became our theme for the week.

Also, I really want an Xbox 360 now. Fable 2 is an awesome game and was SO MUCH FUN!!! Also, there is a Tales game, so... that's two games I would play on it... yeah, I'm broke and thinking about selling the systems I have now, so it's a marvelous idea to start lusting after another ridiculous expensive toy. *headdesk*

Ok, so, Laura flew home on Sat morning, and I took my sister over to Cassie's and tried to help her clean her house. Then, after taking my sister home and returning to finish the kitchen- because god damn it that kitchen was going to be clean when I was done with it- Anna got sick. Like, projectile vomiting sick. She was still sick when I went home the next day. Fun.

Monday, I went with V to the hospital because she broke her finger and didn't want to sit in a hospital waiting room all alone. There were some really annoying black kids there that did not understand the idea of personal space and if it weren't for smoke breaks totally would have gotten a lecture and most likely a boot the ass about how you don't sick you face in a baby's face.

And then I came home at like 11 o'clock and went to bed so that I could get up for work... instead, I woke up at about 4 with the same thing Anna had. Not fun. And I had my father call out of work, but he called the office instead of calling my boss's cell phone, so I got chewed out about that this morning. I wanted to be like "Yeah, Erick, I'm gonna remember to tell my father to call your cell phone when I'm passed out on the bathroom floor. Bite me." All I did say was a lot of mm-hmms and a few oks. Luckily, it was only a 24 hours thing, because I couldn't take today off as well with out going to the doc, and yeah... I'm broke. Like really really broke. With no health insurance. Like, my account is $111 in the arrears and I am most likely going to have to get a second job here soon broke. Not even like "omg it's almost Christmas" broke. More like "omg he rent was due two weeks ago and we never paid it and the phone is due this week and we can't afford it and my student loans are already past due and thank god my bank payed my credit card and put me in the arrears rather than making the check bounce" broke. Yeah, going to the doctor for anything less than life threatening is not going to happen right now. And I am NOT loosing my job because I took more than one sick day in a row with out a doctor's note.

Ok, so that was my little ran about being poor. On a more positive note, my mother bought me a coook book called "Hello Cupcake" and a giant cupcake pan! I can't wait for the first birthday ha come around. GIANT CUPCAKES. So much better than cake. Even if it is just a cake pan shaped like a cupcake. You know you want one.

And, that would be it. Here, have a link because it's awesome and I have to use this Zemanta program to justify having it in my browser:

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