Posts
i cannot say that i grew up in poverty. i cannot say that i grew up in wealth.
we enjoyed the occasional vacation. if i was sick i had medical coverage.
i did not receive much preventative care, quality education, or receive proper nutritious care, but those issues i believe occurred not within the context of finances.
i was taught that hard work meant getting ahead. i am familiar with the family on my moms' side. all immigrating from the middle east not many generations ago- all managing to move into homes, start businesses and do well- achieve the 'american dream.' in my family these benefits were clothed in a religious understanding as well, and right behavior and beliefs mixed with hard work and dedication guaranteed a ife without financial worry or toil.
i've been working since i was 11. i baby-sat and with the money i earned bought a new comforter for my bed, a small TV, and other items for my room. I worked as a tanning salon bed cleaner at 15. i worked as a cashier at safeway at 18. i worked for a temp company when i was 19.
that's when i began community college, because i realized that education mattered, and something i personally valued, in a way that my family didn't quite understand. i took a job at round table pizza and worked through my general education units, having to take extra time to start in 'bonehead' math because i didn't learn so much from my primary education.
i worked five years parttime as a preschool teacher from the age of 21 on. i racked up additional ECE units by doing so, figuring i didn't need them in the long term, but they were helping me pay the bills with my then-husband as we tried to establish a life together as a young couple in their 20s.
i transferred to a CA state school and took a job as an afterschool childcare provider out of an elementary school. dual incomes made life fairly comfortable for us, and we enjoyed health coverage, the occasional vacation, new clothes with changing seasons, and the privilege of buying gifts for our loved ones.
we had the privilege of paying our bills.
when i transitioned on to grad school i realized that my marriage wasn't working, and with my meager income, and my cat i sought a more authentic path.
one of my favorite quotes regarding choices:
my honest opinion and my friendly advice is this do it or do not do it you will regret both.
-Soren kierkegaard
i have found that i can never regret the decisions i have made.
i cannot.
to cling to something for the desire of safety while knowing that you heart has grown cold enough to seek warmth elsewhere- it is not right! i am many things, but i am not that person.
and now i sit on a stiff bed, my health coverage will end by the new year. the $100 odd cash i have is all that i have coming to me, other than a check from the temporary nanny job i had through october. that check will not help me enough to cover rent, cable, or my phone.
i can't count how many resumes i have sent out, the pain that i feel in competing for jobs not using the master of science i have earned, but the 15 ECE units that i accrued in community college, or the knowledge that my friends who have lost everything to drugs in the past are now fairing better than me.
yes, that's a runon sentence but who the fuck cares about education?
i can't even cook for my fucking grandparents for cash. lol.
the third family i am looking to nanny for will let me know if i am going to get the position by the end of the week, or next week. i truly feel like i just need a tiny bit of footing so that i can lift myself out.
bootstraps alone aren't strong enough to pull me out of this.
i have worked hard every day of my life. i have not taken handouts, i have never done things the easy way, or not been willing to sweat.
since i graduated, i have done manual office labor, and folded little kid underwear and tolerated bullshit to get a little cash to buy food for me and my puppy.
i know how to live off $20 groceries for a week, and ride a bike to pretty much wherever.
but i can't manufacture rent, and i don't know what else i can do.
yeah, i'm the fucking 99%, and it blows.
i know i'm not the only one struggling, but it gets scary scraping by and now knowing when or if things will ever change.
i don't want to always be a cynic. i don't want to hate students or regret my education. i just want to use what i was trained to do in a way that can provide me with enough money to live on.
and right now, i don't even want that. i just want to get a steady job in childcare, because i feel like that's all i can do right now. and competing to be a nanny is really depressing.
i got my teeth done on monday, and they scheduled me for a followup in three months. i agreed to it, but know inside i will most likely not keep the appointment. my insurance will be gone by then, and unless things change my healthcare will go back to being 'careful' and hope that eventually things will go my way enough that my basic necessities can be covered, and my drive to work rewarded enough to let me get by.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
seasons change, i write...
sometimes i do not understand people. or, maybe i understand people too well and become so flabbergasted with strange behavior that i find myself in a tizzy- dizzy with the freedom of allowing other people to matter to me.
the decision to rejoin community has not been an easy one for me. i believe i have expanded more energy trying to push people away more often than not than to reel them in. as i was becoming friends with my current people, there were as many drunken attempts to ditch them, betray them, or tell them, 'fuck you,''i hope you die,' 'you don't know what it's like to have a sexual identity crisis,' etc.
and then i surprised myself. i let them in. and now, a few years in i find the same people that i struggled with then, still here now. it is teaching me something.
conditional love is all that i know. falling was never celebrated or understood, walking properly was. rigid perfection was the norm, and that is what i have always reverted to, aspired to, and ultimately, what i end up doing. whether that means scheduling, working out, top grades, health food, honesty in relationships, pet ownership... i try so goddamn hard.
conditionality is a top-down experience historically. from the top, from god, and right on down to us.
now that i am what, three years out of that jazz, it is interesting to analyze the difference between me then and now. there are very particular aspects of my personality that will forever be shaped by the way that my religious philosophy and religious upbringing influenced my development. and that's ok. i am far beyond the space of 'demonizing' christianity. it is flawed, interesting, inspiring in some ways, detestable in other ways.
just like people. just like friends. family. relationships. and if i chucked religion out for it's complications, am used to conditionality as a norm- what's a girl to do when set up against the imperfections of others?
religious philosophy, and conditionality aside, let's talk about hard knock life, being disowned, leaving your husband, your entire community, your family, and finally, the last people that you cared about and trusted, and the boy who held your heart.
when you say goodbye again and again, or not at all, but people are ripped from you, you cannot help but develop a type of 'breakaway skin,' and a breakaway heart. add with that working with school age kids and learning to say goodbye to them when moves or sixth-grade rolled around. and becoming a therapist, which teaches the art of incredibly close connection to another human being, and then a solemn goodbye, forever.
i know how to amputate people from my heart.
and yet, the desire for connection is strong. i am cursed with such emotionality that the connections are so deep, i am so drawn to authenticity that the bonds are so real. and i am driven to connect. in knowing myself so fully of late, it is hard not to want to mesh that with other people.
and other people don't know themselves, or are in their own dizzy with freedom walk that hobbles in one direction, stumbles in mine, then falls in another.
and i look upon all this and reach behind me for my retreat button, to get back to Safe, to Know Where I Stand... where the reigns belong to me, and i am not at the whim of another...
what do you do when you begin to feel so old, so worn out, so thin, like bilbo's butter scraped over too much bread? isolation is always an option. striving to perfection, sleep...
lately i find myself wondering if there could be such a thing as a coma vacation. a cousin of suicidal ideation, no doubt, but better than it's been.
when i think back to the Me of last summer, early fall, i realize how much i have changed. it's unbelievable really. i find it fascinating to really look at the differences between change and stability in humans.
another conversation, for another day.
i am in a very uncertain place right now. i feel it every day. cynicism clouds my sense of hopefulness, as has been the standard for me. and yet, so high the climb, i can't turn back now.
i have learned again and again that keeping it real does not ensure that anybody else will. loving selflessly does not mean people will not spite you. idealistic hope does not guarantee anything.
as much as i try to ascribe meaning to my life, and to life in general, i still inside, feel lost.
nihilism is a hell of a drug.
and fuck drugs, anyway. my pets give me something enough to know that the tradition that says they have no souls and no real purpose other than to serve men even in their breath forms an argument more provocative than scripture. lol.
karl marx speaks of money, and life without it, sucks.
politics are failing.
globally, whole continents starve to death young, and others make it nearly to older age to die too young from eating too much.
we pollute. we rape. we murder. we lie.
all are guilty. but what the fuck is "sin?"
all who do bad also do good. and every person has the capacity to surprise you.
and i have too much time to analyze my thoughts that tick, tick, tick, in the timebomb of this brain. the treadmill holds much of my anger, the row machine, my grief.
and people are thoughtful and heartless.
here today and gone tomorrow.
please be gone tomorrow.
no, stay.
i guess all that matters is what time can tell...
meh, there's no such thing as time.
the decision to rejoin community has not been an easy one for me. i believe i have expanded more energy trying to push people away more often than not than to reel them in. as i was becoming friends with my current people, there were as many drunken attempts to ditch them, betray them, or tell them, 'fuck you,''i hope you die,' 'you don't know what it's like to have a sexual identity crisis,' etc.
and then i surprised myself. i let them in. and now, a few years in i find the same people that i struggled with then, still here now. it is teaching me something.
conditional love is all that i know. falling was never celebrated or understood, walking properly was. rigid perfection was the norm, and that is what i have always reverted to, aspired to, and ultimately, what i end up doing. whether that means scheduling, working out, top grades, health food, honesty in relationships, pet ownership... i try so goddamn hard.
conditionality is a top-down experience historically. from the top, from god, and right on down to us.
now that i am what, three years out of that jazz, it is interesting to analyze the difference between me then and now. there are very particular aspects of my personality that will forever be shaped by the way that my religious philosophy and religious upbringing influenced my development. and that's ok. i am far beyond the space of 'demonizing' christianity. it is flawed, interesting, inspiring in some ways, detestable in other ways.
just like people. just like friends. family. relationships. and if i chucked religion out for it's complications, am used to conditionality as a norm- what's a girl to do when set up against the imperfections of others?
religious philosophy, and conditionality aside, let's talk about hard knock life, being disowned, leaving your husband, your entire community, your family, and finally, the last people that you cared about and trusted, and the boy who held your heart.
when you say goodbye again and again, or not at all, but people are ripped from you, you cannot help but develop a type of 'breakaway skin,' and a breakaway heart. add with that working with school age kids and learning to say goodbye to them when moves or sixth-grade rolled around. and becoming a therapist, which teaches the art of incredibly close connection to another human being, and then a solemn goodbye, forever.
i know how to amputate people from my heart.
and yet, the desire for connection is strong. i am cursed with such emotionality that the connections are so deep, i am so drawn to authenticity that the bonds are so real. and i am driven to connect. in knowing myself so fully of late, it is hard not to want to mesh that with other people.
and other people don't know themselves, or are in their own dizzy with freedom walk that hobbles in one direction, stumbles in mine, then falls in another.
and i look upon all this and reach behind me for my retreat button, to get back to Safe, to Know Where I Stand... where the reigns belong to me, and i am not at the whim of another...
what do you do when you begin to feel so old, so worn out, so thin, like bilbo's butter scraped over too much bread? isolation is always an option. striving to perfection, sleep...
lately i find myself wondering if there could be such a thing as a coma vacation. a cousin of suicidal ideation, no doubt, but better than it's been.
when i think back to the Me of last summer, early fall, i realize how much i have changed. it's unbelievable really. i find it fascinating to really look at the differences between change and stability in humans.
another conversation, for another day.
i am in a very uncertain place right now. i feel it every day. cynicism clouds my sense of hopefulness, as has been the standard for me. and yet, so high the climb, i can't turn back now.
i have learned again and again that keeping it real does not ensure that anybody else will. loving selflessly does not mean people will not spite you. idealistic hope does not guarantee anything.
as much as i try to ascribe meaning to my life, and to life in general, i still inside, feel lost.
nihilism is a hell of a drug.
and fuck drugs, anyway. my pets give me something enough to know that the tradition that says they have no souls and no real purpose other than to serve men even in their breath forms an argument more provocative than scripture. lol.
karl marx speaks of money, and life without it, sucks.
politics are failing.
globally, whole continents starve to death young, and others make it nearly to older age to die too young from eating too much.
we pollute. we rape. we murder. we lie.
all are guilty. but what the fuck is "sin?"
all who do bad also do good. and every person has the capacity to surprise you.
and i have too much time to analyze my thoughts that tick, tick, tick, in the timebomb of this brain. the treadmill holds much of my anger, the row machine, my grief.
and people are thoughtful and heartless.
here today and gone tomorrow.
please be gone tomorrow.
no, stay.
i guess all that matters is what time can tell...
meh, there's no such thing as time.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
from myspace. i like it because i discuss losing a laptop. that one to viruses, not a pussy bitch. (:
what I got {51/50}'s BlogNew blog postthe start of a new semester; adventures in homelessness, and how i will never be the same. by Holly Beth (what I got {51/50}) on Myspace
Manage Blog
Feb 3, 2010
the start of a new semester; adventures in homelessness, and how i will never be the same.
Current mood:angsty
just as i came smashing into my first graduate semester; the same goes for semester two. i had way hoped that i'd be all settled in the room i decided to rent from the KGB, but as fate would have it, he turned out to be a creepy ass'd mother fucker. i got a storage facility filled with all my stuff. started my adventures in couch surfing. started drinking heavily. started smoking a lot of cigarettes. started getting depressed. by the end of the first week, it was feeling really heavy.
by a week and a half in i was officially on my own, and learning to hash it out on the mean streets. this is what you do when you are waiting until it's late to find a place to stay, or when you have to hustle guys who won't harm you, but will help you. when you have no where to go, but have to drink to not feel. this is what a five foot tall girl should do.
stop caring.
fuck them all, stop smiling. stop charming.
it doesn't matter.
go butch.
now is the time for beanies, a frown.
look men in the eye when they pass you on the street.
nod at them first.
small dogs are avoided if they appear crazy enough.
get your chain on.
wear a backpack.
swagger.
sing.
smoke.
not only does this show you don't care about cancer,
but a lit cigarette can be a weapon.
drink beer.
you can sip it slowly, and not get too drunk too fast.
know who you can trust and who you can't.
be ready to be alone or defend yourself at any point.
think about where your next shower will come from.
carry your cell phone charger with you at all times.
check your stuff, constantly.
keep your keys clipped to your backpack inside.
you wallet in your pocket.
phone in the front pocket.
lighter to the left.
listen to stevie ray sing about his best friend, and his life by the drop.
go see a play at state.
eat alone.
walk alone.
enjoy your company and know,
you have a shadow by your side, and that's fucking good enough.
go to places you know.
it will give you a sense of familiarity, almost a feeling of being home.
you have quickstop. cvs, the stag.
safeways are good places to use the restroom.
walk.
kills time, burns off those beer calories.
make out with a hot girl in the bathroom if you can.
particularly when it's with THAT girl. lol.
when the joy reaches you, look at the sky and smile.
know this is temporary.
appreciate every morning, because you survived another night.
know how to escape people's houses before they wake up,
and get a shower in at sjsu before school.
don't forget your hand towel and your bar of soap.
walk in the rain. that's what hoods are for.
eat once a day.
not like you have an appetite anyway.
don't freak out when you lose the last thing that made you connected to an old life: your computer.
chaos should be regarded as extremely good news!
appreciate your homies.
now you know who they are.
it took me three full days after i got to peterson's house to fully awaken from the nightmare of the last three weeks. i still haven't recovered. i'm addicted to showers, and to alcohol, and to cigarettes. but i'm moderating my drinking now.
i would have stopped a day sooner, but we had a crazy ass situation at work on monday when a fucking pit bull off the street came into the park and bit one of our kids. and me. (yup.) thank god i was wearing combat boots with a skirt. lol.
i pretty much rose to that challenge...
starting therapy again. thank god.
diggin my classes. got my first client. i'll meet her soon, no doubt.
so bloody much to do, though. it's ridiculous. and i'm so exhausted. i realized that once i had a moment to relax i have a shit load of grief to feel. spent the second night i was here on the tile sobbing for a good bit. made a call to my old hotline. hung up on the bitch for being a cunt. only me.
just started eating meals again. and tonight will be my second night in a row not getting drunk, and not smoking nearly as much. i will be able to quit again within the week, i'd imagine. today i got totally triggered during a lecture regarding childhood. this morning i lost it over the other thing. met with my teacher and took notes for a lecture i'll be giving. told her my story in brief. she was cool, and respected me by the end.
doesn't look like the living arrangement will be ideal. exactly why i've been saying tentatively, and as far as i know. never count unhatched chicks. EVER.
you are born alone and will die alone.
and unless someone is willing to die for you, don't cry for them.
i think i need a nap.
Manage Blog
Feb 3, 2010
the start of a new semester; adventures in homelessness, and how i will never be the same.
Current mood:angsty
just as i came smashing into my first graduate semester; the same goes for semester two. i had way hoped that i'd be all settled in the room i decided to rent from the KGB, but as fate would have it, he turned out to be a creepy ass'd mother fucker. i got a storage facility filled with all my stuff. started my adventures in couch surfing. started drinking heavily. started smoking a lot of cigarettes. started getting depressed. by the end of the first week, it was feeling really heavy.
by a week and a half in i was officially on my own, and learning to hash it out on the mean streets. this is what you do when you are waiting until it's late to find a place to stay, or when you have to hustle guys who won't harm you, but will help you. when you have no where to go, but have to drink to not feel. this is what a five foot tall girl should do.
stop caring.
fuck them all, stop smiling. stop charming.
it doesn't matter.
go butch.
now is the time for beanies, a frown.
look men in the eye when they pass you on the street.
nod at them first.
small dogs are avoided if they appear crazy enough.
get your chain on.
wear a backpack.
swagger.
sing.
smoke.
not only does this show you don't care about cancer,
but a lit cigarette can be a weapon.
drink beer.
you can sip it slowly, and not get too drunk too fast.
know who you can trust and who you can't.
be ready to be alone or defend yourself at any point.
think about where your next shower will come from.
carry your cell phone charger with you at all times.
check your stuff, constantly.
keep your keys clipped to your backpack inside.
you wallet in your pocket.
phone in the front pocket.
lighter to the left.
listen to stevie ray sing about his best friend, and his life by the drop.
go see a play at state.
eat alone.
walk alone.
enjoy your company and know,
you have a shadow by your side, and that's fucking good enough.
go to places you know.
it will give you a sense of familiarity, almost a feeling of being home.
you have quickstop. cvs, the stag.
safeways are good places to use the restroom.
walk.
kills time, burns off those beer calories.
make out with a hot girl in the bathroom if you can.
particularly when it's with THAT girl. lol.
when the joy reaches you, look at the sky and smile.
know this is temporary.
appreciate every morning, because you survived another night.
know how to escape people's houses before they wake up,
and get a shower in at sjsu before school.
don't forget your hand towel and your bar of soap.
walk in the rain. that's what hoods are for.
eat once a day.
not like you have an appetite anyway.
don't freak out when you lose the last thing that made you connected to an old life: your computer.
chaos should be regarded as extremely good news!
appreciate your homies.
now you know who they are.
it took me three full days after i got to peterson's house to fully awaken from the nightmare of the last three weeks. i still haven't recovered. i'm addicted to showers, and to alcohol, and to cigarettes. but i'm moderating my drinking now.
i would have stopped a day sooner, but we had a crazy ass situation at work on monday when a fucking pit bull off the street came into the park and bit one of our kids. and me. (yup.) thank god i was wearing combat boots with a skirt. lol.
i pretty much rose to that challenge...
starting therapy again. thank god.
diggin my classes. got my first client. i'll meet her soon, no doubt.
so bloody much to do, though. it's ridiculous. and i'm so exhausted. i realized that once i had a moment to relax i have a shit load of grief to feel. spent the second night i was here on the tile sobbing for a good bit. made a call to my old hotline. hung up on the bitch for being a cunt. only me.
just started eating meals again. and tonight will be my second night in a row not getting drunk, and not smoking nearly as much. i will be able to quit again within the week, i'd imagine. today i got totally triggered during a lecture regarding childhood. this morning i lost it over the other thing. met with my teacher and took notes for a lecture i'll be giving. told her my story in brief. she was cool, and respected me by the end.
doesn't look like the living arrangement will be ideal. exactly why i've been saying tentatively, and as far as i know. never count unhatched chicks. EVER.
you are born alone and will die alone.
and unless someone is willing to die for you, don't cry for them.
i think i need a nap.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
what if memory lane is more like memory interstate highway???
"HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE A MASTER?!??!!!111"
pretty fuckin terrible when i really think about it, at least on one level. all that i have lived, breathed, loved, hated, needed, attempted to escape in the past three years has been this degree. it alluded me, it taunted me, it flirted with me, it cheated on me, it let me down... ultimately, i caught her, i made her submit, i fucking WON.
i told myself that for better or worse, no matter what, once i won i would be ok.
and now here i am, sitting again in a web of lies to myself that yet again, i have spun.
and whether it is true or not, i feel that the rest of my cohort now gets a chance to do what we all dreamed of -pausing- whether that means bike rides, or video games, or chasing boys or bottles.
and here i am again, in some t-shirt on a school bus doing work that "matters" but is not what i lost years of my life and all of my soul for. and i know it is to be expected and normal and that part of getting this degree is questioning it's validity, or even it's pragmatism in my day to day life.
i feel it now, haunting my steps, tormenting my thoughts.
this is all i will ever be.
i can never be more than what i've been.
i deserve to be low-income,
i do not deserve a career i have worked so hard for...
and i know it's not logical but i can't fucking exorcise the goddamned demons in my brain that never cease to SHUT THE FUCK UP.
if only my thoughts were bitches that i could intimidate...
if only my feelings could mean the same as hoes and tricks... heh.
alas, not my fate.
and that's okay, it really is. although i am a fun addition to the Game, i'm not meant to live in it. realizing this scares me and makes me feel that a whole image i have constructed for myself shatters and reveals a very tender, very vulnerable inner self.
but that is another journey, another exploration, yet to unfold.
no one could ever accuse me of handling transitions well, and this is yet another example. when i think of where i was even a year ago- i know i am in a much better place than i was then- but still.
perfectionism does not allow for pragmatism as the goals differ... one demands immediate standard fulfillment, one allots for one's context in a given time and space. and while for others i am willing to overlook even blatant and scary flaws, when it comes to me, i am more than willing to shove a log into my own eye to be blinded to your issues. it's who i am, and it's what i do, and this is to be expected from me...
and in fact, i do expect it from me so it's whatever.
"it's whatever" of course being a convenient way to absolve, or temporarily absolve my issues. which has worked, at least somewhat for many years.
i left in june 2009 and didn't look back. or if i did, it was hard to attend to what i might have seen due to all i did to obscure my own vision.
to fathom where i once was in this same body... more chilling than i can offer words to a page, just trust.
how much i have let people in, only to push them completely out baffles me as a person who only can appreciate and respect clinging with fierce loyalty to those who i cherish, if only a little bit...
but to be able to say goodbye forever to the one who rescued me, who stepped in when other stepped out? for him, the guilt may never die. and perhaps it never should.
'you're a terrible person" jen said in jest upon meeting him. his manners, his kind eyes, his generosity of spirit speak for themselves. his intentness to my words betrays the disconnect he attempts to speak to by no longer paying our storage after two years of $180 payments for nearly three years. she's joking, of course she is. and she is as compassionate as a cuban companion can be throughout the day as i lose my shit repeatedly after being confronted with my freeze-dried wedding bouquet, pictures of me- an innocent virgin 20-year-old bride with hopes to the skies.
no idea that a decade later i'd be healing wounds that will one day be my speedy reminders of mistakes gone by, with PTSD features, prone to rage, isolation, and suicidal ideation when hormones, circumstance, and social support or lack thereof so has it...
she speaks to the unreasonable nature of turning one's back to a "sure thing." at least, that's what i imagine. who gives up financial security, loving support, committed loyalty, humorous companionship, unconditional love- for financial ruin, horrible feelings of abandonment, isolated terror, lack of family, and feelings of helplessness??? is it merely the masochist in me that has chosen this life?
when you're hungry it's easy to think about a fast food meal that you once ate and how yummy it was. you don't recall the heartburn, or the saturated fat... yet that's not a good metaphor, perhaps more like delicious apples, peaches, plums, cherries, any fruit with a pit and skin. all studies say my diet would benefit with their increase. and they taste so good, too. but when i eat them my throat itches, starts to close and it is so uncomfortable...
an unavoidable, unchosen allergy. that's all i can scrape together to explain how i could walk away from the last decade of my life.
and knowing, and hoping that one day his heart will yearn for much more than me. i'm proud of him for getting rid of our storage, even if it has brought me so much pain. it's not all about me. and sadness never killed anybody. right?
not that it matters, if i could nearly starve myself and lose everyone but but gwen and not die i will make it through a storage issue. but it's more than that.
it's coming to terms that that ALL HAPPENED. every single married year happened. every smile, every hug, every night, every mutual dream, every inside joke, every inside sound, every piece of what made the fabric of me and him- ALL OF IT HAPPENED. and there is not enough bong rips, bottles of booze, lines of blow, or puffs of shit that can undo it. it is true in any drug-induced state, and it is true sober as a sunday morning...
and really, we are both doing ok, in spite of it all. i remember when he would cry on the couch at night grieving the loss of our family- me, baby, and kitty. and i would pray to god to end my life because the pain and the guilt was more than i could bear- i know he's so much stronger for it. i hope that one day we can be friends again, but as it stands, seeing him wrecks me, but not in the way that a wife that misses her husband does... that was the problem all along.
if only there were an I'M SORRY good enough. if only i could be less loyal, less compassionate- the qualities that will benefit my career may cost me my sanity.
if indeed, i settle in a career. i hope that i do. it is terrifying to have gone this many years always knowing at least a new semester is ahead, new books, new assignments. and now, nothing but a big question mark, and a burden on my back.
after all i have been through it seems weird that this should feel so scary and so impossible, and yet here i am, terrified...
more honest than i have ever been in my relationships, more able to express my needs, display my overt sexuality, more comfortable in my (too thick in my opinion) skin, willing to fail, willing to apologize, hopeful for connection and family- apparently willing to take risks and even hang up my playa playa fo real hat- it's a lot to do when i'm this fucking sober.
but nights like this i look back on the live (s) i've lived and realize i certainly am a cat- and nine lives may not yet be enough for what i've got on this bitch.
sometimes i have to remind myself that whether my haters are external or internal, the response must be the same- haters gotta hate, it's they goddamn job. shows you doin something right. hate on. and for me, hope on.
please.
pretty fuckin terrible when i really think about it, at least on one level. all that i have lived, breathed, loved, hated, needed, attempted to escape in the past three years has been this degree. it alluded me, it taunted me, it flirted with me, it cheated on me, it let me down... ultimately, i caught her, i made her submit, i fucking WON.
i told myself that for better or worse, no matter what, once i won i would be ok.
and now here i am, sitting again in a web of lies to myself that yet again, i have spun.
and whether it is true or not, i feel that the rest of my cohort now gets a chance to do what we all dreamed of -pausing- whether that means bike rides, or video games, or chasing boys or bottles.
and here i am again, in some t-shirt on a school bus doing work that "matters" but is not what i lost years of my life and all of my soul for. and i know it is to be expected and normal and that part of getting this degree is questioning it's validity, or even it's pragmatism in my day to day life.
i feel it now, haunting my steps, tormenting my thoughts.
this is all i will ever be.
i can never be more than what i've been.
i deserve to be low-income,
i do not deserve a career i have worked so hard for...
and i know it's not logical but i can't fucking exorcise the goddamned demons in my brain that never cease to SHUT THE FUCK UP.
if only my thoughts were bitches that i could intimidate...
if only my feelings could mean the same as hoes and tricks... heh.
alas, not my fate.
and that's okay, it really is. although i am a fun addition to the Game, i'm not meant to live in it. realizing this scares me and makes me feel that a whole image i have constructed for myself shatters and reveals a very tender, very vulnerable inner self.
but that is another journey, another exploration, yet to unfold.
no one could ever accuse me of handling transitions well, and this is yet another example. when i think of where i was even a year ago- i know i am in a much better place than i was then- but still.
perfectionism does not allow for pragmatism as the goals differ... one demands immediate standard fulfillment, one allots for one's context in a given time and space. and while for others i am willing to overlook even blatant and scary flaws, when it comes to me, i am more than willing to shove a log into my own eye to be blinded to your issues. it's who i am, and it's what i do, and this is to be expected from me...
and in fact, i do expect it from me so it's whatever.
"it's whatever" of course being a convenient way to absolve, or temporarily absolve my issues. which has worked, at least somewhat for many years.
i left in june 2009 and didn't look back. or if i did, it was hard to attend to what i might have seen due to all i did to obscure my own vision.
to fathom where i once was in this same body... more chilling than i can offer words to a page, just trust.
how much i have let people in, only to push them completely out baffles me as a person who only can appreciate and respect clinging with fierce loyalty to those who i cherish, if only a little bit...
but to be able to say goodbye forever to the one who rescued me, who stepped in when other stepped out? for him, the guilt may never die. and perhaps it never should.
'you're a terrible person" jen said in jest upon meeting him. his manners, his kind eyes, his generosity of spirit speak for themselves. his intentness to my words betrays the disconnect he attempts to speak to by no longer paying our storage after two years of $180 payments for nearly three years. she's joking, of course she is. and she is as compassionate as a cuban companion can be throughout the day as i lose my shit repeatedly after being confronted with my freeze-dried wedding bouquet, pictures of me- an innocent virgin 20-year-old bride with hopes to the skies.
no idea that a decade later i'd be healing wounds that will one day be my speedy reminders of mistakes gone by, with PTSD features, prone to rage, isolation, and suicidal ideation when hormones, circumstance, and social support or lack thereof so has it...
she speaks to the unreasonable nature of turning one's back to a "sure thing." at least, that's what i imagine. who gives up financial security, loving support, committed loyalty, humorous companionship, unconditional love- for financial ruin, horrible feelings of abandonment, isolated terror, lack of family, and feelings of helplessness??? is it merely the masochist in me that has chosen this life?
when you're hungry it's easy to think about a fast food meal that you once ate and how yummy it was. you don't recall the heartburn, or the saturated fat... yet that's not a good metaphor, perhaps more like delicious apples, peaches, plums, cherries, any fruit with a pit and skin. all studies say my diet would benefit with their increase. and they taste so good, too. but when i eat them my throat itches, starts to close and it is so uncomfortable...
an unavoidable, unchosen allergy. that's all i can scrape together to explain how i could walk away from the last decade of my life.
and knowing, and hoping that one day his heart will yearn for much more than me. i'm proud of him for getting rid of our storage, even if it has brought me so much pain. it's not all about me. and sadness never killed anybody. right?
not that it matters, if i could nearly starve myself and lose everyone but but gwen and not die i will make it through a storage issue. but it's more than that.
it's coming to terms that that ALL HAPPENED. every single married year happened. every smile, every hug, every night, every mutual dream, every inside joke, every inside sound, every piece of what made the fabric of me and him- ALL OF IT HAPPENED. and there is not enough bong rips, bottles of booze, lines of blow, or puffs of shit that can undo it. it is true in any drug-induced state, and it is true sober as a sunday morning...
and really, we are both doing ok, in spite of it all. i remember when he would cry on the couch at night grieving the loss of our family- me, baby, and kitty. and i would pray to god to end my life because the pain and the guilt was more than i could bear- i know he's so much stronger for it. i hope that one day we can be friends again, but as it stands, seeing him wrecks me, but not in the way that a wife that misses her husband does... that was the problem all along.
if only there were an I'M SORRY good enough. if only i could be less loyal, less compassionate- the qualities that will benefit my career may cost me my sanity.
if indeed, i settle in a career. i hope that i do. it is terrifying to have gone this many years always knowing at least a new semester is ahead, new books, new assignments. and now, nothing but a big question mark, and a burden on my back.
after all i have been through it seems weird that this should feel so scary and so impossible, and yet here i am, terrified...
more honest than i have ever been in my relationships, more able to express my needs, display my overt sexuality, more comfortable in my (too thick in my opinion) skin, willing to fail, willing to apologize, hopeful for connection and family- apparently willing to take risks and even hang up my playa playa fo real hat- it's a lot to do when i'm this fucking sober.
but nights like this i look back on the live (s) i've lived and realize i certainly am a cat- and nine lives may not yet be enough for what i've got on this bitch.
sometimes i have to remind myself that whether my haters are external or internal, the response must be the same- haters gotta hate, it's they goddamn job. shows you doin something right. hate on. and for me, hope on.
please.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Bilbo was meant to find the ring, in which case you also were meant to have it. and isn't that an encouraging thought?
it is difficult not to find hope in fate. it is difficult still to not have some hope in fate. whether it is karma, whether it is some type of order amongst chaos. that the ultimate hinge of destiny is not squarely on the back of the individual. originally, i believed not in fate, but in the will of god. from birth, even before birth, i was knit together in my mother's womb by the very hands of god. predestined to stand and proclaim his glory...
that destiny led me to exactly where it was supposed to, and i lived the life of a "good christian wife" for more years than i can recall. they were beautiful years. real, authentic years. and lonely years, too. lacking community, feeling rejected when people would leave my parent's church. feeling alienated and isolated from all the "non-saved" people in my life. i'm so far removed from that language at this point it seems a foreign concept to differentiate the worth of a person based on a BELIEF SET. my arrogance was profound, though sympathetic. as "karma" would have it, i now bear that shame with people still willing to have me, and suffer the same judgment i used to project onto others by those most intimate to me, at least biologically.
it is what it is.
fate isolated me in childhood, and fate let me escape into books, stories, poems, and reflections. the written word was my best friend, and ever i awoke next to a few books, a notebook, pens, and possibly a cat or two. when emma was my best friend, our most powerful connections were through letters. the most romantic gift i ever gave victor was to read my poetry book from the time we started seeing each other, that he wrote in and gave back. his simple text: "writing is your strength." helped give me something to ground myself to as i struggled to write my comp.
reading, writing, and thinking 'fated' me to go from alternative high school to eventually putting myself in community college. i knew nothing about math, no understanding of science, no concept of what it meant to 'double-space' a paper, having no personal self-concept as myself as smart. i dove into philosophy classes with abandon, and wished that my itialian catholic professor would get saved and realize that dogmatism was clearly the wisest choice. who would rest in a questioning state? oh, to be nineteen again and have all the answers.
learning so many new ideas that were in no way congruent with my own was a constant struggle. i took a myers briggs and found out i was ENFJ. being able to differentiate myself from the way family is, and the way my husband was, created a space where i could allow myself to be me. i love putting other people first, in fact, i must! if any of you has let me do what i do for you, then you know what i'm talking about. in some ways my struggle with alcohol has been a good way to force me to let others take care of me... and others still to hurt me more, as 'fate' would have it.
'who am i' became a question i started wrestling with in my 20's. i was a good daughter, a good wife, and i started to become a good student. i was the perfect christian. never swore, never drank, virgin bride, no drugs, faithful to my husband, respectful... what was missing? i became more politically active. i started working out more and more. transferred to SJSU and became a full-time student. never got less than an A- at state for undergrad. graduated with honors. unhappy.
by then i was a vegetarian, agnostic, and unsure of my political stances and my sexuality. i poured over philosophy and science trying to find myself. and then i just stopped caring.
no family, no husband, some new friends who were rapidly less supportive of me when i was no longer crazy fun, but crazy scared. then the moving began. and nose bleeds, and bruises, and self-destruction. dark years. made it through my first year of grad school. somehow. fate brought me to last summer. fate brought me to the red stag, fate gave me an entire social network, ultimately a place to live last summer, and some of the most amazing people i have ever known. it's been interesting having people that i love so deeply know me as a short drunk wild thing with surprisingly sophisticated vocabulary tucked into expletives.
seemed an even exchange to give deuces to my old job, and all the douchebags associated and cling to my stag people. the TRIBE of last summer- me, jen, donna, kiko; sometimes billy, sometimes kim. all of us broke, all of us alcoholics, all of us awesome. it was hard times and great times. and now, nearly a year later- all still in my life, all still awesome. feels so good to have people that are dependable and unconditional in my life. seeing gwen recently reinforced that all the more. what if i am a person who deserves more than love contingent on circumstances and conditions... what if i should not be abandoned, hurt, and abused by the people i love?
by the end of the summer, i was on a fast track to self-destruction. fate brought me to meet the first years, and i tried to cover the marks on my arms. i've always felt out of place in my program, but it felt good to have made it to the second years, and hearing the first years was quite precious. everything seemed fairly promising. i made some better choices, but still hadn't mastered my alcohol habit, and when i found out i had to move again on a 30 day notice i fell back on a tried and true technique: binge drinking.
woke up the next morning with a swollen ankle. in my top bunk. i'll never know how the fuck i pulled that off. double spiral fracture. learned later that spiral fractures are a giveaway for child abuse when kids show up in the ER with them due to the difficulty to achieve one... lol. THAT SUCKED. so began a new era, and i was alone more often than not, unable to drive, but still having to perform all the duties associated with the second year of my grad program. only now with no support and open criticism from my professors. maybe they knew i was a fraud. maybe i was. maybe i'm not a fraud and they are assholes. maybe it's both, and.
in that time i picked up a dirtier habit, but learned to manage my drinking more. as fate would have it, i never got caught. made it through the 3rd semester. that one was really tough. got into a fight with the cohort's cunt and that one really floored me. it's interesting having a nemesis. fuck her. sick...
practice comp accomplished. cast off. panic attacks in my car about being able to get to the next semester. made it, with a "talking to." lines were drawn, and i decided to just shut my mouth and not give a fuck anymore. vicki gave me a voice, and a place to share my dissent. as my confidence grew based on my internship, and my relationship with my supervisors and my clients i started to remember what i knew all along. i'm a motherfucking ENFJ, bitches. this is my shit, this is my goddamn identity. i eat and breathe caring for other people, and it doesn't matter if i don't have the most developed coping skills all the time, i know that i am a good fucking therapist. and just because that bitch can sit still because she doesn't have a trauma history and a fucked up context does not make her better than me. FUCK HER.
fate took amanda to richmond. fate broke my ankle. fate put me at las plumas. fate broke my bad habits. fate brought me a handful of pills. fate made me look long and hard at that demon. seven days and three days later, i realized something. and now, eight weeks and six days later, i realize something more. there's worser tragedies than being unable to concentrate. despite what my professors say, no matter what the 'good students' think. in a few years i'll be in a ph.d program and if i see a girl near the front anxiously tapping her foot and using the bathroom once an hour and sometimes looking depersonalized, i will not assume she's an idiot, or disrespectful... not at all.
fate took those buddies out of my life, fate gave me a context to thicken less problematic self-narratives. fate started bringing me people who don't make me flinch as much- physically and psychologically. fate now asked me to question again whether or not i ought rely on alcohol when afraid, when bored, when sad... i would not describe myself as addicted to alcohol, i certainly was last summer. but having experienced the ACT workshop last week makes me have a higher goal of being able to sit with psychological discomfort without escaping it. i just want to be able to afford to work out again, and eat my hippie food again. it's all getting close, now.
the comp was a beast of burden. the entire process was heinous, the condition of my heart atrocious, and the level of personal crisis i was in at that time- dangerous for myself. i made good choices, called friends, stayed the weekend with kitty, put myself to sleep with pills. and somehow, the paper wrote itself, fatefully. my mind goes fuzzy when i'm suicidal so i can't remember much of that time, but it ended with a turned in completed project. and following that, a brush of temptation, and as fate would have it i avoided, texted a friend, ate food, and took a nap.
passed the test, and also realized the test will be ongoing, and may never "go away." took up smoking cigs again on the anniversary of my homelessness. quit a few weeks after comp was turned in. AND I PASSED!!! holy shit, i passed. all that stands between me and a master of science degree now is a paper and a posterboard project. haha. (:
and slowly, the grays are filled back in with colors. i have plants in my room, again. my cat sips water out of his filtered waterbowl and sleeps with me at night, again. my papers are in a giant stack, but they are organized in their way. laundry gets done more. my thoughts get to think more. music still soothes me. i feel myself healing... i find myself triggered more easily than i was before. i suppose this is because my mind must now see/remember/experience/grieve/rage what's happened. and i can run to the bathroom and have a panic attack in the stall and still think and cognitively believe, I AM MAKING THIS UP. IT WAS MY FAULT, TOO. and cold water compresses and complete derealization for a weekend do not necessarily convince me otherwise. or the draw of liquor everyday after that, or in a blacked out state crying to someone for an hour about the thing that didn't matter, doesn't count, and was my fault betrays me...
and mean text messages reduce me to feelings of shame and identification with parasites. it sucks how much internalized self-hate i still have. and fate would have it that i would have compassionate arms comfort me, and hear apologies to my hurt side where others would continue to berate and humiliate... to sit here now, sober and reflect. tears come, but don't fall. SUDs score of about 6. lol.
fate brought matt (boy who let me stay in his VW bus when i was homeless and danny ditched me at the bar after flirting with a girl in front of me) showed up the night before i defended my comp. to apologize for being a dick because i didn't sleep with him and he was butthurt. lol, i thought he was prince charming. it was interesting to see how far i've come. it was nice to see him. he drank a beer and vanished into the night. driving around with clean laundry in the back of my car, reminded me of angie's house when she did all my laundry during that time and i fell asleep in it at night, pulling jeans and shirts around me for warmth in the cold february nights.
picked up my grandma from the airport yesterday, we went to hooters. my grandma kicks fucking ass. she's nearly ninety, great spirit, great energy. i like to think i took after her. she's not afraid of death, but welcomes life. welcomes laughter. fate has now brought my parents to this establishment, so i will continue along my ramblings at a later time.
<3
that destiny led me to exactly where it was supposed to, and i lived the life of a "good christian wife" for more years than i can recall. they were beautiful years. real, authentic years. and lonely years, too. lacking community, feeling rejected when people would leave my parent's church. feeling alienated and isolated from all the "non-saved" people in my life. i'm so far removed from that language at this point it seems a foreign concept to differentiate the worth of a person based on a BELIEF SET. my arrogance was profound, though sympathetic. as "karma" would have it, i now bear that shame with people still willing to have me, and suffer the same judgment i used to project onto others by those most intimate to me, at least biologically.
it is what it is.
fate isolated me in childhood, and fate let me escape into books, stories, poems, and reflections. the written word was my best friend, and ever i awoke next to a few books, a notebook, pens, and possibly a cat or two. when emma was my best friend, our most powerful connections were through letters. the most romantic gift i ever gave victor was to read my poetry book from the time we started seeing each other, that he wrote in and gave back. his simple text: "writing is your strength." helped give me something to ground myself to as i struggled to write my comp.
reading, writing, and thinking 'fated' me to go from alternative high school to eventually putting myself in community college. i knew nothing about math, no understanding of science, no concept of what it meant to 'double-space' a paper, having no personal self-concept as myself as smart. i dove into philosophy classes with abandon, and wished that my itialian catholic professor would get saved and realize that dogmatism was clearly the wisest choice. who would rest in a questioning state? oh, to be nineteen again and have all the answers.
learning so many new ideas that were in no way congruent with my own was a constant struggle. i took a myers briggs and found out i was ENFJ. being able to differentiate myself from the way family is, and the way my husband was, created a space where i could allow myself to be me. i love putting other people first, in fact, i must! if any of you has let me do what i do for you, then you know what i'm talking about. in some ways my struggle with alcohol has been a good way to force me to let others take care of me... and others still to hurt me more, as 'fate' would have it.
'who am i' became a question i started wrestling with in my 20's. i was a good daughter, a good wife, and i started to become a good student. i was the perfect christian. never swore, never drank, virgin bride, no drugs, faithful to my husband, respectful... what was missing? i became more politically active. i started working out more and more. transferred to SJSU and became a full-time student. never got less than an A- at state for undergrad. graduated with honors. unhappy.
by then i was a vegetarian, agnostic, and unsure of my political stances and my sexuality. i poured over philosophy and science trying to find myself. and then i just stopped caring.
no family, no husband, some new friends who were rapidly less supportive of me when i was no longer crazy fun, but crazy scared. then the moving began. and nose bleeds, and bruises, and self-destruction. dark years. made it through my first year of grad school. somehow. fate brought me to last summer. fate brought me to the red stag, fate gave me an entire social network, ultimately a place to live last summer, and some of the most amazing people i have ever known. it's been interesting having people that i love so deeply know me as a short drunk wild thing with surprisingly sophisticated vocabulary tucked into expletives.
seemed an even exchange to give deuces to my old job, and all the douchebags associated and cling to my stag people. the TRIBE of last summer- me, jen, donna, kiko; sometimes billy, sometimes kim. all of us broke, all of us alcoholics, all of us awesome. it was hard times and great times. and now, nearly a year later- all still in my life, all still awesome. feels so good to have people that are dependable and unconditional in my life. seeing gwen recently reinforced that all the more. what if i am a person who deserves more than love contingent on circumstances and conditions... what if i should not be abandoned, hurt, and abused by the people i love?
by the end of the summer, i was on a fast track to self-destruction. fate brought me to meet the first years, and i tried to cover the marks on my arms. i've always felt out of place in my program, but it felt good to have made it to the second years, and hearing the first years was quite precious. everything seemed fairly promising. i made some better choices, but still hadn't mastered my alcohol habit, and when i found out i had to move again on a 30 day notice i fell back on a tried and true technique: binge drinking.
woke up the next morning with a swollen ankle. in my top bunk. i'll never know how the fuck i pulled that off. double spiral fracture. learned later that spiral fractures are a giveaway for child abuse when kids show up in the ER with them due to the difficulty to achieve one... lol. THAT SUCKED. so began a new era, and i was alone more often than not, unable to drive, but still having to perform all the duties associated with the second year of my grad program. only now with no support and open criticism from my professors. maybe they knew i was a fraud. maybe i was. maybe i'm not a fraud and they are assholes. maybe it's both, and.
in that time i picked up a dirtier habit, but learned to manage my drinking more. as fate would have it, i never got caught. made it through the 3rd semester. that one was really tough. got into a fight with the cohort's cunt and that one really floored me. it's interesting having a nemesis. fuck her. sick...
practice comp accomplished. cast off. panic attacks in my car about being able to get to the next semester. made it, with a "talking to." lines were drawn, and i decided to just shut my mouth and not give a fuck anymore. vicki gave me a voice, and a place to share my dissent. as my confidence grew based on my internship, and my relationship with my supervisors and my clients i started to remember what i knew all along. i'm a motherfucking ENFJ, bitches. this is my shit, this is my goddamn identity. i eat and breathe caring for other people, and it doesn't matter if i don't have the most developed coping skills all the time, i know that i am a good fucking therapist. and just because that bitch can sit still because she doesn't have a trauma history and a fucked up context does not make her better than me. FUCK HER.
fate took amanda to richmond. fate broke my ankle. fate put me at las plumas. fate broke my bad habits. fate brought me a handful of pills. fate made me look long and hard at that demon. seven days and three days later, i realized something. and now, eight weeks and six days later, i realize something more. there's worser tragedies than being unable to concentrate. despite what my professors say, no matter what the 'good students' think. in a few years i'll be in a ph.d program and if i see a girl near the front anxiously tapping her foot and using the bathroom once an hour and sometimes looking depersonalized, i will not assume she's an idiot, or disrespectful... not at all.
fate took those buddies out of my life, fate gave me a context to thicken less problematic self-narratives. fate started bringing me people who don't make me flinch as much- physically and psychologically. fate now asked me to question again whether or not i ought rely on alcohol when afraid, when bored, when sad... i would not describe myself as addicted to alcohol, i certainly was last summer. but having experienced the ACT workshop last week makes me have a higher goal of being able to sit with psychological discomfort without escaping it. i just want to be able to afford to work out again, and eat my hippie food again. it's all getting close, now.
the comp was a beast of burden. the entire process was heinous, the condition of my heart atrocious, and the level of personal crisis i was in at that time- dangerous for myself. i made good choices, called friends, stayed the weekend with kitty, put myself to sleep with pills. and somehow, the paper wrote itself, fatefully. my mind goes fuzzy when i'm suicidal so i can't remember much of that time, but it ended with a turned in completed project. and following that, a brush of temptation, and as fate would have it i avoided, texted a friend, ate food, and took a nap.
passed the test, and also realized the test will be ongoing, and may never "go away." took up smoking cigs again on the anniversary of my homelessness. quit a few weeks after comp was turned in. AND I PASSED!!! holy shit, i passed. all that stands between me and a master of science degree now is a paper and a posterboard project. haha. (:
and slowly, the grays are filled back in with colors. i have plants in my room, again. my cat sips water out of his filtered waterbowl and sleeps with me at night, again. my papers are in a giant stack, but they are organized in their way. laundry gets done more. my thoughts get to think more. music still soothes me. i feel myself healing... i find myself triggered more easily than i was before. i suppose this is because my mind must now see/remember/experience/grieve/rage what's happened. and i can run to the bathroom and have a panic attack in the stall and still think and cognitively believe, I AM MAKING THIS UP. IT WAS MY FAULT, TOO. and cold water compresses and complete derealization for a weekend do not necessarily convince me otherwise. or the draw of liquor everyday after that, or in a blacked out state crying to someone for an hour about the thing that didn't matter, doesn't count, and was my fault betrays me...
and mean text messages reduce me to feelings of shame and identification with parasites. it sucks how much internalized self-hate i still have. and fate would have it that i would have compassionate arms comfort me, and hear apologies to my hurt side where others would continue to berate and humiliate... to sit here now, sober and reflect. tears come, but don't fall. SUDs score of about 6. lol.
fate brought matt (boy who let me stay in his VW bus when i was homeless and danny ditched me at the bar after flirting with a girl in front of me) showed up the night before i defended my comp. to apologize for being a dick because i didn't sleep with him and he was butthurt. lol, i thought he was prince charming. it was interesting to see how far i've come. it was nice to see him. he drank a beer and vanished into the night. driving around with clean laundry in the back of my car, reminded me of angie's house when she did all my laundry during that time and i fell asleep in it at night, pulling jeans and shirts around me for warmth in the cold february nights.
picked up my grandma from the airport yesterday, we went to hooters. my grandma kicks fucking ass. she's nearly ninety, great spirit, great energy. i like to think i took after her. she's not afraid of death, but welcomes life. welcomes laughter. fate has now brought my parents to this establishment, so i will continue along my ramblings at a later time.
<3
Thursday, April 14, 2011
APRIL 26, 2011. there was a riot on the streets, tell me where were you???
there's nothing not to love about me!
it has taken me years and years to appreciate this fact. but it doesn't make it any less true. and whether i contend against a god, a parent, a sibling, a friend, or a coworker: if any person that matters to me does not understand and appreciate the level of awesome that i -in fact- am, then FUCK EM.
april 26.... i fucking did it. i'm so close to grasping this impossible dream in my own grip. it's beyond words, beyond poetry, maybe even beyond music.
semester I.
david, jose, kristin, nay, julie, cory, lindsay, sylvie, a few others...
i fought to get there, and then i failed and stayed behind.
106 pounds crying in the office of every professor, terrified of what my sexuality might be, what this meant for my husband.
squinting in the light as a pioneer of feminist psychology, the embodiment of everything i'd ever been taught to fear and to hate, begged me to move my seat so the light from the sun didn't blind my eyes and asked me if i engage in self-mutilation based on the way i saw myself, hated myself.
cut off from my parents, my soulmate, my best friend, clinging to new people at a new job. her.
semester off.
political philosophy, yoga. weed and benzos. gym and weights. music. discovery.
him...
prop 8, milk, prayers for bobby, gender identity, keeping it real. work. love. lies.
vic.
summer. tan. alone. nika. tears. fears. terror.
danny. drugs. hurts me. pure hate glares in my face and i laugh and make a wish, like a child reaching a trusting hand to a parent...
slammed into the floor, gasping, why, why, why...
merry saved me. pulled me out. into a safe bed, into a home with food and shelter.
semester I.
torie, angie, chris, ricky, emily, jen, vanessa, rachel, me...
assessment with poorni
gender ethniciy with elena
theory with glenn
diagnostics with jen
hooked on powders and pills and pain. struggling, hurting, holidays.
semester II. homeless
cold in my car, shivering in a sleeping bag.
hood. hard. i don't give a fuck.
psychopharm with glenn
research methods with poorni
clinic with annabel
child psych with heiden
testing drunk at angies
COMP!!!!!!
passed both when told i'd fail.
quit addictions, but lost my soul. it went missing when i wandered the street...
dean. amanda. vic. auntie.
summer of debauchery.
passed all my classes, moved in with jen.
job went awol. to grieve the loss of all my new friends, or to drink the pain away?
met the first years. of course.
semester III.
clinic
change the life of my first client.
ethics
family therapy
fieldwork
internship with george.
VICKI.
BROKEN ANKLE.
:(
chris. shame. crutches. BRI. jen. kim. grant. donna. kiko.
move forward anyway. or hobble.
move downtown. fucking meat curtains.
old habits die hard. escape, avoid.
holidays.
family.
shannon, dean, jen, grant, kitty.
birthday...
practice comp.
AT LEAST I'M NOT A FUCKING CUNT.
marisol, lisa....
MY CLIENTS.
semester IV
fieldwork
sex drugs, rock n roll
modern family
internship
meeting, embracing, conquering demons.
panic attacks.
making a difference.
losing.
feeling alone.
feeling loved
ER.
kim. grant. jen. shannon. kitty. art. angie. vicki. george. marisol. lisa. dean. nay. adriana. rikki. chris. gwen. overflowing cup.
pressure, comp, OMG.
writing is your gift.
-sancho
i did it....
HOLY FUCKING SHIT.
imma make it by any means, got a pocket full of dreams, baby i'm from the bay...
and the pressing question?
now what?
just another day, livin in the hood, really. who can say, who can know? this futon is pretty fucking uncomfortable, but this room is warmer than my car, and freer than my marriage bed. heh.
this blog goes out to all my haters. FUCK YOU. (:
winning.
BITCH.
it has taken me years and years to appreciate this fact. but it doesn't make it any less true. and whether i contend against a god, a parent, a sibling, a friend, or a coworker: if any person that matters to me does not understand and appreciate the level of awesome that i -in fact- am, then FUCK EM.
april 26.... i fucking did it. i'm so close to grasping this impossible dream in my own grip. it's beyond words, beyond poetry, maybe even beyond music.
semester I.
david, jose, kristin, nay, julie, cory, lindsay, sylvie, a few others...
i fought to get there, and then i failed and stayed behind.
106 pounds crying in the office of every professor, terrified of what my sexuality might be, what this meant for my husband.
squinting in the light as a pioneer of feminist psychology, the embodiment of everything i'd ever been taught to fear and to hate, begged me to move my seat so the light from the sun didn't blind my eyes and asked me if i engage in self-mutilation based on the way i saw myself, hated myself.
cut off from my parents, my soulmate, my best friend, clinging to new people at a new job. her.
semester off.
political philosophy, yoga. weed and benzos. gym and weights. music. discovery.
him...
prop 8, milk, prayers for bobby, gender identity, keeping it real. work. love. lies.
vic.
summer. tan. alone. nika. tears. fears. terror.
danny. drugs. hurts me. pure hate glares in my face and i laugh and make a wish, like a child reaching a trusting hand to a parent...
slammed into the floor, gasping, why, why, why...
merry saved me. pulled me out. into a safe bed, into a home with food and shelter.
semester I.
torie, angie, chris, ricky, emily, jen, vanessa, rachel, me...
assessment with poorni
gender ethniciy with elena
theory with glenn
diagnostics with jen
hooked on powders and pills and pain. struggling, hurting, holidays.
semester II. homeless
cold in my car, shivering in a sleeping bag.
hood. hard. i don't give a fuck.
psychopharm with glenn
research methods with poorni
clinic with annabel
child psych with heiden
testing drunk at angies
COMP!!!!!!
passed both when told i'd fail.
quit addictions, but lost my soul. it went missing when i wandered the street...
dean. amanda. vic. auntie.
summer of debauchery.
passed all my classes, moved in with jen.
job went awol. to grieve the loss of all my new friends, or to drink the pain away?
met the first years. of course.
semester III.
clinic
change the life of my first client.
ethics
family therapy
fieldwork
internship with george.
VICKI.
BROKEN ANKLE.
:(
chris. shame. crutches. BRI. jen. kim. grant. donna. kiko.
move forward anyway. or hobble.
move downtown. fucking meat curtains.
old habits die hard. escape, avoid.
holidays.
family.
shannon, dean, jen, grant, kitty.
birthday...
practice comp.
AT LEAST I'M NOT A FUCKING CUNT.
marisol, lisa....
MY CLIENTS.
semester IV
fieldwork
sex drugs, rock n roll
modern family
internship
meeting, embracing, conquering demons.
panic attacks.
making a difference.
losing.
feeling alone.
feeling loved
ER.
kim. grant. jen. shannon. kitty. art. angie. vicki. george. marisol. lisa. dean. nay. adriana. rikki. chris. gwen. overflowing cup.
pressure, comp, OMG.
writing is your gift.
-sancho
i did it....
HOLY FUCKING SHIT.
imma make it by any means, got a pocket full of dreams, baby i'm from the bay...
and the pressing question?
now what?
just another day, livin in the hood, really. who can say, who can know? this futon is pretty fucking uncomfortable, but this room is warmer than my car, and freer than my marriage bed. heh.
this blog goes out to all my haters. FUCK YOU. (:
winning.
BITCH.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
it's becoming something that's impossible to ignore...
uH oH, i want some more...
i just took a shower tonight, and a big spider climbed around the top of the shower. i watched her, and she eventually came down and touched the handle that i kept turning to make my shower nice and toasty. she went back up to the top as i was finishing up, and i thanked her for the visit. we all know i'm a cold atheist, but i have a soft spot for totems, for the purported 'animal inside of me' at a given time.
i also have a particular spot for spiders in general (though they make me scream like a much blonder, much skinnier girl) since tatting myself with the widow's mark.
so i look up some animal totem stuff on the spider. she represents creation. particularly written communication. she represents balance, nurturing, communication, creativity, divine inspiration. i'm welcoming her energy right now, and throughout the week as i knock out what will be the most important assignment of my life this far.
i'm so intimidated about my comp. it represents the sum of three years of attempting to prove myself as a MASTER while at the same time being told by those i have loved most that i am evil, that i am worthless, that i am deserving of worse than death- of eternal damnation...
that i can't be trusted with cash and so i am given gift cards so i can't buy drugs. (target sells liquor. i'm just saying.)
told i'm crazy. told i'm inappropriate. told i'm not worth it. told, whether directly or not, that avoiding the discomfort of knowing me is worth more than having me around.
told i'm worth getting drunk enough to not put up a fight to do things i'd rather not do. told i'm not going to make a competent clinician. told i'm not professional enough. told my "stimulant qualities" may interact with my therapeutic ability.
told i'm not psychologically ready to hear the correct criticism about my work. told
i'm not good enough to work with children. told i'm pitiable.
called psychologically beaten.
called a homewrecker.
called an addict.
called a masochist.
called a victim.
called one who "plays the victim."
called manipulative.
been broken.
been robbed.
been violated.
been victimized.
been poisoned.
been hit.
been choked.
been thrown down.
been threatened.
been slandered.
been abandoned.
moved more times that i'd like to count on my fingers this late at night.
passed every class.
built rapport with every client.
changed lives.
reconnected with many.
forgiven many.
-more than anything else-
i created for myself all that i could ever ask for:
a family.
dean, adrianna, debbie. bartenders at the stag. first people who began to see the hurt behind the glazed eyes under the hat. the bruises on the arms, and the death wish associated with a life not worth living.
said goodbye to my old WG crew. i had thought they were my family.
for my part, they were.
real friends walk in when others walk out.
or, to restate. when everyone walks out, family* remains.
*family often has nothing to do with blood.
tanya and angie. saw me through my homelessness.
and then, amanda.
amanda gave me a home and a set of friends.
kiko, donna, cliff, ultimately kim, grant.
and at the bar, shannon, tee, jason, robby. joe. marc. natalie. sherry. christel.
as time passed by, more and more people felt real to me in one way or another.
then kitty, danielle, rikki, marina, kiki. nate. don. bri. carlos. anjie.
the amount of quality human beings i have had the pleasure to interact with in one place is astounding. granted, certain people are much closer to me than others, but i have had so many opportunities to appreciate human greatness and potential at my local bar than i can exert.
and school provided me with some amazing people like renee and david from second years. rachel and angie these years. and now our new first years have provided me a new mind to discover and appreciate.
my internship provided me with george, my amazing supervisor.
beyond this, my lovely co-intern marisol, and the amazing lisa.
our bond has been amazing, and i cannot express my fondness for these amazing ladies quite effectively merely with words.
special shout-out to my moon, who's light illuminated a way for me through the darkest nights.
and last but never least, my dear internet family. gwen, ken, drew, laura, karen. sarah-beth. my sweet james.
we who have nothing, and most likely will til we all end up locked up in jails. by conservative christian, straight white republican males. ;)
here we go again. i kinda wanna be more than friends.
Lilo: 'Ohana means family, family means nobody gets left behind. Or forgotten.
people question my loyalty to the stag. people wonder how i feel such intense love for a woman i've met a handful of times, talk to occasionally, and text regularly.
it's about family to me. it's about familiarity. it's about loyalty. self-sacrifice.
the bar that has charged my phone, given me free wifi, allowed me to meet some of the most amazing humans i can fathom- it deserves someone to snatch drinks taken outside- potentially pissing someone off. it deserves the back womens toilet to be plunged when dumb bitches are too lazy to hold down the handle...
loyalty. family. birthing relationships, nurturing them, and watching them grow.
growing with my clients.
victoria dickerson. to whom, i will owe my MS if indeed i achieve it.
my old man in his furry tux. this new one in the works..
and always, where i go i just don't know.
and i'm afraid i won't get out alive...
no i won't sleep tonight
so much human emotion. so much earth that needs to be honored. so many animals to bond with. so many children to make smile. so many elderly people to learn from. so many cultures to offer me richness. so many strangers to brighten my day.
what are you waiting for? take a bite of my heart tonight.
i will attack this paper with passion, and with hope. i will give it the best that i can give it based on my 30 years, and not alone. but with all the grace that has been given to me by so many great witnesses that surround me. who care about me.
it is by their stripes i am healing.
and i think the universe, circumstance, and my own more developed learning history that has been shaped into a format that looks for the positive and the safe, rather than the negative and the destructive.
those who knew me before are confused that i get better without returning to my former ways of thinking. those who know me now are surprised by my depth and my loyalty.
i find every day full of beauty, and information to learn. of people to understand. or to misunderstand.
and that's gotta just be part of it.
TO MY COMP. say prayers, write poems, make a joke about, think positively, say you can do it, or don't do anything at all.
there may be a time when i will give up rather than try my hardest to do what feels impossible...
but it is not this day. rather, not this week.
if you ask me i'm ready.
Natural History
E.B. White
The spider, dropping down from twig,
Unfolds a plan of her devising,
A thin premeditated rig
To use in rising.
And all that journey down through space,
In cool descent and loyal hearted,
She spins a ladder to the place
From where she started.
Thus I, gone forth as spiders do
In spider's web a truth discerning,
Attach one silken thread to you
For my returning.
i'll be back in full swing soon, friends. until then remember that i kinda wanna be more than friends.
uh oh, i want some more...
and i deserve it, i think i deserve it!
i just took a shower tonight, and a big spider climbed around the top of the shower. i watched her, and she eventually came down and touched the handle that i kept turning to make my shower nice and toasty. she went back up to the top as i was finishing up, and i thanked her for the visit. we all know i'm a cold atheist, but i have a soft spot for totems, for the purported 'animal inside of me' at a given time.
i also have a particular spot for spiders in general (though they make me scream like a much blonder, much skinnier girl) since tatting myself with the widow's mark.
so i look up some animal totem stuff on the spider. she represents creation. particularly written communication. she represents balance, nurturing, communication, creativity, divine inspiration. i'm welcoming her energy right now, and throughout the week as i knock out what will be the most important assignment of my life this far.
i'm so intimidated about my comp. it represents the sum of three years of attempting to prove myself as a MASTER while at the same time being told by those i have loved most that i am evil, that i am worthless, that i am deserving of worse than death- of eternal damnation...
that i can't be trusted with cash and so i am given gift cards so i can't buy drugs. (target sells liquor. i'm just saying.)
told i'm crazy. told i'm inappropriate. told i'm not worth it. told, whether directly or not, that avoiding the discomfort of knowing me is worth more than having me around.
told i'm worth getting drunk enough to not put up a fight to do things i'd rather not do. told i'm not going to make a competent clinician. told i'm not professional enough. told my "stimulant qualities" may interact with my therapeutic ability.
told i'm not psychologically ready to hear the correct criticism about my work. told
i'm not good enough to work with children. told i'm pitiable.
called psychologically beaten.
called a homewrecker.
called an addict.
called a masochist.
called a victim.
called one who "plays the victim."
called manipulative.
been broken.
been robbed.
been violated.
been victimized.
been poisoned.
been hit.
been choked.
been thrown down.
been threatened.
been slandered.
been abandoned.
moved more times that i'd like to count on my fingers this late at night.
passed every class.
built rapport with every client.
changed lives.
reconnected with many.
forgiven many.
-more than anything else-
i created for myself all that i could ever ask for:
a family.
dean, adrianna, debbie. bartenders at the stag. first people who began to see the hurt behind the glazed eyes under the hat. the bruises on the arms, and the death wish associated with a life not worth living.
said goodbye to my old WG crew. i had thought they were my family.
for my part, they were.
real friends walk in when others walk out.
or, to restate. when everyone walks out, family* remains.
*family often has nothing to do with blood.
tanya and angie. saw me through my homelessness.
and then, amanda.
amanda gave me a home and a set of friends.
kiko, donna, cliff, ultimately kim, grant.
and at the bar, shannon, tee, jason, robby. joe. marc. natalie. sherry. christel.
as time passed by, more and more people felt real to me in one way or another.
then kitty, danielle, rikki, marina, kiki. nate. don. bri. carlos. anjie.
the amount of quality human beings i have had the pleasure to interact with in one place is astounding. granted, certain people are much closer to me than others, but i have had so many opportunities to appreciate human greatness and potential at my local bar than i can exert.
and school provided me with some amazing people like renee and david from second years. rachel and angie these years. and now our new first years have provided me a new mind to discover and appreciate.
my internship provided me with george, my amazing supervisor.
beyond this, my lovely co-intern marisol, and the amazing lisa.
our bond has been amazing, and i cannot express my fondness for these amazing ladies quite effectively merely with words.
special shout-out to my moon, who's light illuminated a way for me through the darkest nights.
and last but never least, my dear internet family. gwen, ken, drew, laura, karen. sarah-beth. my sweet james.
we who have nothing, and most likely will til we all end up locked up in jails. by conservative christian, straight white republican males. ;)
here we go again. i kinda wanna be more than friends.
Lilo: 'Ohana means family, family means nobody gets left behind. Or forgotten.
people question my loyalty to the stag. people wonder how i feel such intense love for a woman i've met a handful of times, talk to occasionally, and text regularly.
it's about family to me. it's about familiarity. it's about loyalty. self-sacrifice.
the bar that has charged my phone, given me free wifi, allowed me to meet some of the most amazing humans i can fathom- it deserves someone to snatch drinks taken outside- potentially pissing someone off. it deserves the back womens toilet to be plunged when dumb bitches are too lazy to hold down the handle...
loyalty. family. birthing relationships, nurturing them, and watching them grow.
growing with my clients.
victoria dickerson. to whom, i will owe my MS if indeed i achieve it.
my old man in his furry tux. this new one in the works..
and always, where i go i just don't know.
and i'm afraid i won't get out alive...
no i won't sleep tonight
so much human emotion. so much earth that needs to be honored. so many animals to bond with. so many children to make smile. so many elderly people to learn from. so many cultures to offer me richness. so many strangers to brighten my day.
what are you waiting for? take a bite of my heart tonight.
i will attack this paper with passion, and with hope. i will give it the best that i can give it based on my 30 years, and not alone. but with all the grace that has been given to me by so many great witnesses that surround me. who care about me.
it is by their stripes i am healing.
and i think the universe, circumstance, and my own more developed learning history that has been shaped into a format that looks for the positive and the safe, rather than the negative and the destructive.
those who knew me before are confused that i get better without returning to my former ways of thinking. those who know me now are surprised by my depth and my loyalty.
i find every day full of beauty, and information to learn. of people to understand. or to misunderstand.
and that's gotta just be part of it.
TO MY COMP. say prayers, write poems, make a joke about, think positively, say you can do it, or don't do anything at all.
there may be a time when i will give up rather than try my hardest to do what feels impossible...
but it is not this day. rather, not this week.
if you ask me i'm ready.
Natural History
E.B. White
The spider, dropping down from twig,
Unfolds a plan of her devising,
A thin premeditated rig
To use in rising.
And all that journey down through space,
In cool descent and loyal hearted,
She spins a ladder to the place
From where she started.
Thus I, gone forth as spiders do
In spider's web a truth discerning,
Attach one silken thread to you
For my returning.
i'll be back in full swing soon, friends. until then remember that i kinda wanna be more than friends.
uh oh, i want some more...
and i deserve it, i think i deserve it!
Saturday, March 5, 2011
i remember when i lost my mind. there was something so pleasant about that place.
one of my friends is on the verge of spiritual awakening. spirit to me, is the emotive infusion weaved in the biology of human being. it seems as if she sees the world in a new way- or that, she is understanding the way the world works for the first time. i'd call it a feminist awakening but then people would begin stereotyping and being douchebags.
she is ten years my senior, beautiful, engaging, compassionate, hopeful. eager.
she's losing her mind.
and she's gaining her soul.
soul to me, is the collective organization of ideas, beliefs, values, ethics, memories, lyrics, paintings, jokes~ the creative and feeling part of the brain.
she is understanding privilege for the first time.
she is recognizing patriarchy, and its effects.
she is becoming aware of power differentials, and the abuse of them.
she is noticing the ways in which society invents myths about women, calls them truths, and then reinforces these 'truths.'
she has been made to feel guilty, small, subservient, voiceless.
she has been stifled, stunted, and disempowered.
she's fucking pissed.
watching her growth has been a pleasure. knowing that much of her cognitive awareness and mindset expansion is associated with me? my pride. she has taken to calling me her "life coach." and though some of you may question my abilities, i am actually quite astute when it comes to the lives of others... but more than that i have been privileged (see how that works) enough to understand the bullshit.
she is providing me with a wonderful opportunity to experiment with feminist therapy. well, my clients are definitely providing me that opportunity, but i can be more militant with her. naming injustices, validating worth, processing feelings, deconstructing thoughts. challenging standards, questioning discourses, opposing oppression.
what the hell do all those words even mean?
it means that undocumented migrant workers who live in horrible conditions to make money to send back to families living in crisis are disenfranchised PEOPLE. not illegal ALIENS. it means that breaking down the word illegal and combining it with a human being is actually quite disgusting if you think about it.
it means that the prison system is a nightmare. a racist, capitalist, backwards ass shithole.
it means that we are all in positions of power relative to other people. this power is constructed based on factors including socioeconomic status, gender, race, sexual orientation, age, and ability. with power comes privileges.
i did not appreciate the privilege a healthy body offered me until i broke my ankle. in my former conservative days i might have bitched about high costs of offering accessibility for people who are physically challenged. the utility and necessity of doors that open automatically, of elevators, and nearby parking spots became immediately salient.
an invisible reality suddenly became a very visible truth. privilege is often invisible to the privileged. and the more privilege, the more power. and unfortunately, those with the most power often are not interested in operations of social responsibility, compassion, and justice.
it has been a wonderful experience for me to watch my friend "get it" and begin to heal. what's cooler is that i did not have to convince her of anything, i merely pointed out specific actions that i saw as unjust and stated it. that situation began a dialogue about the roles in her life and the mounting distress she was experiencing. my primary 'intervention' would be reframing her words back to her in a way that was validating, rather than depreciating.
so when she said she 'lost it, went nuts, is crazy' etc. i told her she is a NORMAL woman who is having a natural reaction to unjust realities. it is amazing how powerful (heh) a reframe can be. it is amazing how courageous and brilliant this woman is. i hope her journey is rich with meaning, and that she finds some of her distress alleviated. i hope her family can adjust and ultimately benefit, even though it may take a while.
it's a trip that she finds such comfort in me. it's weird that i went through so much. it's awesome that i was able to channel some of my prior pain and suffering to aide someone else. and another therapist at that!
looking back, it would have been nice to have a little holly in my corner when all i needed was any kind word, as opposed to the prevailing discourse that called me crazy. it would have been nice to hear, "it's not you, baby. you're amazing. just the way you are."
maybe i'm crazy
maybe your crazy
maybe we're crazy
probably
she is ten years my senior, beautiful, engaging, compassionate, hopeful. eager.
she's losing her mind.
and she's gaining her soul.
soul to me, is the collective organization of ideas, beliefs, values, ethics, memories, lyrics, paintings, jokes~ the creative and feeling part of the brain.
she is understanding privilege for the first time.
she is recognizing patriarchy, and its effects.
she is becoming aware of power differentials, and the abuse of them.
she is noticing the ways in which society invents myths about women, calls them truths, and then reinforces these 'truths.'
she has been made to feel guilty, small, subservient, voiceless.
she has been stifled, stunted, and disempowered.
she's fucking pissed.
watching her growth has been a pleasure. knowing that much of her cognitive awareness and mindset expansion is associated with me? my pride. she has taken to calling me her "life coach." and though some of you may question my abilities, i am actually quite astute when it comes to the lives of others... but more than that i have been privileged (see how that works) enough to understand the bullshit.
she is providing me with a wonderful opportunity to experiment with feminist therapy. well, my clients are definitely providing me that opportunity, but i can be more militant with her. naming injustices, validating worth, processing feelings, deconstructing thoughts. challenging standards, questioning discourses, opposing oppression.
what the hell do all those words even mean?
it means that undocumented migrant workers who live in horrible conditions to make money to send back to families living in crisis are disenfranchised PEOPLE. not illegal ALIENS. it means that breaking down the word illegal and combining it with a human being is actually quite disgusting if you think about it.
it means that the prison system is a nightmare. a racist, capitalist, backwards ass shithole.
it means that we are all in positions of power relative to other people. this power is constructed based on factors including socioeconomic status, gender, race, sexual orientation, age, and ability. with power comes privileges.
i did not appreciate the privilege a healthy body offered me until i broke my ankle. in my former conservative days i might have bitched about high costs of offering accessibility for people who are physically challenged. the utility and necessity of doors that open automatically, of elevators, and nearby parking spots became immediately salient.
an invisible reality suddenly became a very visible truth. privilege is often invisible to the privileged. and the more privilege, the more power. and unfortunately, those with the most power often are not interested in operations of social responsibility, compassion, and justice.
it has been a wonderful experience for me to watch my friend "get it" and begin to heal. what's cooler is that i did not have to convince her of anything, i merely pointed out specific actions that i saw as unjust and stated it. that situation began a dialogue about the roles in her life and the mounting distress she was experiencing. my primary 'intervention' would be reframing her words back to her in a way that was validating, rather than depreciating.
so when she said she 'lost it, went nuts, is crazy' etc. i told her she is a NORMAL woman who is having a natural reaction to unjust realities. it is amazing how powerful (heh) a reframe can be. it is amazing how courageous and brilliant this woman is. i hope her journey is rich with meaning, and that she finds some of her distress alleviated. i hope her family can adjust and ultimately benefit, even though it may take a while.
it's a trip that she finds such comfort in me. it's weird that i went through so much. it's awesome that i was able to channel some of my prior pain and suffering to aide someone else. and another therapist at that!
looking back, it would have been nice to have a little holly in my corner when all i needed was any kind word, as opposed to the prevailing discourse that called me crazy. it would have been nice to hear, "it's not you, baby. you're amazing. just the way you are."
maybe i'm crazy
maybe your crazy
maybe we're crazy
probably
Sunday, February 27, 2011
the more loving one (that's me!)
W.H. Auden - The More Loving One
Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.
Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.
Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total darkness sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.
1957
Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.
Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.
Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total darkness sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.
1957
Monday, February 14, 2011
valentine's day playlist.
here's the top ten off the top of my head representing that crazy thing love, and its flipside- anguish.
1. can't let go- mariah carey.
i think this might be the first song i ever "experienced" emotionally as a young pup.
didn't i cherish you right
don't you know
you were my life
2. make you feel my love- adele
this song is the perfect example of why i am not quick to fall in love these days. because once i do fall- i fall fully.
when the evening shadows and the stars appear
and there is no one there to dry your tears
i would hold you for a million years
to make you feel my love
3. ex factor- lauryn hill
when love is not enough.
tell me who i have to be
to get some reciprocity?
4. no woman no cry- bob marley
(self-explanatory.) because everything really is gonna be alright.
in this great future
you can't forget your past
so dry your tears i say
5. song cry- jayz
gave me perspective on how it might feel to be the one who left but must still remember.
they say once a good girl's gone bad
she's gone forever.
i'll mourn forever
shit, i got to live with the fact that i did you wrong forever
6. i'm no good- amy winehouse
and then i developed perspective on what it means to be the one who mourns forever...
there'll be none of him no more
i cried for you on the kitchen floor
7. sleep to dream- fiona apple
at some point, one finds the value in herself.
this mind
this body
and this voice
cannot be stifled
by your deviant ways
8. half crazy- musiq soulchild
sometimes friendships should remain at that.
lately i got to watch what i say
cuz you take things personal nowadays
you used to laugh
now you get mad
damn, i just want my friend back
9. how do i- leann rimes
this song was/is the song of grieving me and my husband's break up.
without you
there would be no sun in my sky
there would be no love in my life
there would be no world left for me
and i
baby i don't know what i would do
i'd be lost if i lost you
if you ever leave
baby you would take away everything real
in my life
10. trenchtown rock- sublime
because no matter how much pain the world hurls at me, music has ever seen me through, comforted me, helped me rage, and given me a reason to live.
one good thing about music
when it hits you
you feel no pain
1. can't let go- mariah carey.
i think this might be the first song i ever "experienced" emotionally as a young pup.
didn't i cherish you right
don't you know
you were my life
2. make you feel my love- adele
this song is the perfect example of why i am not quick to fall in love these days. because once i do fall- i fall fully.
when the evening shadows and the stars appear
and there is no one there to dry your tears
i would hold you for a million years
to make you feel my love
3. ex factor- lauryn hill
when love is not enough.
tell me who i have to be
to get some reciprocity?
4. no woman no cry- bob marley
(self-explanatory.) because everything really is gonna be alright.
in this great future
you can't forget your past
so dry your tears i say
5. song cry- jayz
gave me perspective on how it might feel to be the one who left but must still remember.
they say once a good girl's gone bad
she's gone forever.
i'll mourn forever
shit, i got to live with the fact that i did you wrong forever
6. i'm no good- amy winehouse
and then i developed perspective on what it means to be the one who mourns forever...
there'll be none of him no more
i cried for you on the kitchen floor
7. sleep to dream- fiona apple
at some point, one finds the value in herself.
this mind
this body
and this voice
cannot be stifled
by your deviant ways
8. half crazy- musiq soulchild
sometimes friendships should remain at that.
lately i got to watch what i say
cuz you take things personal nowadays
you used to laugh
now you get mad
damn, i just want my friend back
9. how do i- leann rimes
this song was/is the song of grieving me and my husband's break up.
without you
there would be no sun in my sky
there would be no love in my life
there would be no world left for me
and i
baby i don't know what i would do
i'd be lost if i lost you
if you ever leave
baby you would take away everything real
in my life
10. trenchtown rock- sublime
because no matter how much pain the world hurls at me, music has ever seen me through, comforted me, helped me rage, and given me a reason to live.
one good thing about music
when it hits you
you feel no pain
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
swooped from my myspace page: wrote this at the stag ~ a year ago...
Man is born free and everywhere he is in chains.
-Jean-Jacques Rousseau
Aloha. I am the product of a home-schooled, right-wing conservative family, reared in isolation with my older brother and an assortment of pets, mostly cats. I attended grades 2-5, and was in independent studies through the San Jose Unified School District for grades 6-12. I made friends through my church youth group, including a best friend, Emma, who later married my brother, Jonathan. Jonathan and Emma reside with my parents to this day. I was able to engage socially for a period of time through my youth group from the age of ~ 14 to the age of ~ 15 when I was singled out by the pastor of our former church of nine years due to "political" reasons in which the senior pastors wanted my family to leave. my family decided to leave the church after my youth pastor called me personally to make me aware that my high school girl gossip was a "tool of satan."
I had my first panic attack when we left that church, and everything that finally felt like Home to me. I spent the majority of my adolescence hanging out with my brother, whom I have always shared a strained relationship with. When my brother and Emma became romantically involved I removed myself from my last relationship with a peer, and my best friend perhaps of all time, my beloved Emma. In my isolation I turned dark very quickly, and after so long, I was put in Christian therapy with a sweet man with very sincere, albeit Christian values. I was told I was loved by God, that I should pray, read the bible more, and of course, forgive. I did these things, and eventually decided I should have friends again, and enrolled myself at Central County Occupational Center (CCOC). I took Macintosh Business Communications. I made some friends fairly soon, and was the only person to cross every racial and "cliqual" barrier, because I have always loved people, regardless.
I went to my first party with friends for Superbowl Sunday of 1997. I had just turned seventeen. That day I met Victor. We became a couple July 4 of that year. He had clear braces. We dated until I was nineteen. I had to get married due to my religious beliefs and cultural tradition in my family. We broke up. I didn't eat for eleven days. I was married before I turned 21, to the neighbor boy down the street, Ferdinand. He was, and continues to be, a sweet and intelligent man who is a product of a life of his own. We were married to complicated circumstances for five years in which we engaged in a wonderful life, that felt more like roommates than lovers for a variety of tragic, but legitimate issues. I was working preschool, getting good grades, and readying to become a Christian counselor with a degree in psychology.
I had gained a lot of weight when I got married, and when I transferred to San Jose State University (SJSU) I had lost nearly 80 pounds, and never earned a grade below an A- for my entire school career. I began questioning my political and spiritual beliefs around age 26 and the process haunted me through year 27. I had everything I "wanted," having done everything "right," and felt nothing but misery. I left my parents church, left my 'straight' sexuality, left my marriage, and left my sanity when I was 27. I lost my political understanding of the world, I lost my religious understanding of the world, but mostly, I lost my personal relationship with my Lord and Savior, Christ Jesus. I am Jack's Broken Heart.
I graduated with high honors, and flew to meet Gwen. I was a size 0, suffering anxiety so severe that I could not fall asleep or stay asleep. My mother and I were not speaking. I had fallen in love with a woman. My marriage (obviously) suffered. I started a new job working at an elementary school with kids in Willow Glen. I started Graduate Studies at SJSU and had to take a leave in October because my husband was up crying every night, grieving our lost marriage. I would cry with him, and the guilt was enormous. My struggle with suicidal ideation was incredibly intense, and I nearly ended my life three times that year.
I moved out June 1st, age 28. The summer is a blur of drinking, drugging, and who knows what else. I thought I had a place to live for a year, but in fact, did not, and have since moved at least four times. I'm currently homeless. I began grad school again anyway. I overcame a drug addiction half way through the semester and started to apply myself to my studies. I barely passed on class, and got high B's in everything else. My grad school grades are the worst I've had in at least five years. I started talking to my parents again. I lost nearly all my friends.
I can be overwhelming. I can be too drunk, too needy, and too dependent. You probably should just stay away from me. But if you don't, you should know that I'm a very kind person, I'm pretty funny, and if I had to do anything to save anybody, no matter who they are, I would do it.
One day I will "get" where I could be, I will reach the potential that I have in me. I will remember who I met along the way, who helped me, and who didn't. I will understand why you did or didn't. I'm not about grudges, in fact, in the words of Adele: "like the meaner you treat me, more eager I am to persist in this heartbreak and runnin around" but I won't always be this way. Like I said, I'm a product of what made me. But I make me now. In the words of Incubus: "if you let them fuck you, there will be no foreplay." Life is nothing but a cold, hard, hustle. You never get something for nothing. And for me, unfortunately, you never really learn a lesson until you learn it. I have a lot of learning to do to make up for the life that I lived. I find myself learning quickly, and hope my street smarts will catch up to my book smarts eventually.
Until then, I bid you safe travels along your journey. Even after the turmoil and the pain unleashed from Pandora's Box, one thing remained: HOPE. Hope, indeed, is all that remained. THERE IS ALWAYS HOPE. A person can have faith, hope, and love. I have found my faith lost, I have found my hope sustained, and above all, I have found this to be true: the greatest of these is Love. In the words of Bradley: "Let the lovin, let the lovin, come back to me." Namasté.
-Jean-Jacques Rousseau
Aloha. I am the product of a home-schooled, right-wing conservative family, reared in isolation with my older brother and an assortment of pets, mostly cats. I attended grades 2-5, and was in independent studies through the San Jose Unified School District for grades 6-12. I made friends through my church youth group, including a best friend, Emma, who later married my brother, Jonathan. Jonathan and Emma reside with my parents to this day. I was able to engage socially for a period of time through my youth group from the age of ~ 14 to the age of ~ 15 when I was singled out by the pastor of our former church of nine years due to "political" reasons in which the senior pastors wanted my family to leave. my family decided to leave the church after my youth pastor called me personally to make me aware that my high school girl gossip was a "tool of satan."
I had my first panic attack when we left that church, and everything that finally felt like Home to me. I spent the majority of my adolescence hanging out with my brother, whom I have always shared a strained relationship with. When my brother and Emma became romantically involved I removed myself from my last relationship with a peer, and my best friend perhaps of all time, my beloved Emma. In my isolation I turned dark very quickly, and after so long, I was put in Christian therapy with a sweet man with very sincere, albeit Christian values. I was told I was loved by God, that I should pray, read the bible more, and of course, forgive. I did these things, and eventually decided I should have friends again, and enrolled myself at Central County Occupational Center (CCOC). I took Macintosh Business Communications. I made some friends fairly soon, and was the only person to cross every racial and "cliqual" barrier, because I have always loved people, regardless.
I went to my first party with friends for Superbowl Sunday of 1997. I had just turned seventeen. That day I met Victor. We became a couple July 4 of that year. He had clear braces. We dated until I was nineteen. I had to get married due to my religious beliefs and cultural tradition in my family. We broke up. I didn't eat for eleven days. I was married before I turned 21, to the neighbor boy down the street, Ferdinand. He was, and continues to be, a sweet and intelligent man who is a product of a life of his own. We were married to complicated circumstances for five years in which we engaged in a wonderful life, that felt more like roommates than lovers for a variety of tragic, but legitimate issues. I was working preschool, getting good grades, and readying to become a Christian counselor with a degree in psychology.
I had gained a lot of weight when I got married, and when I transferred to San Jose State University (SJSU) I had lost nearly 80 pounds, and never earned a grade below an A- for my entire school career. I began questioning my political and spiritual beliefs around age 26 and the process haunted me through year 27. I had everything I "wanted," having done everything "right," and felt nothing but misery. I left my parents church, left my 'straight' sexuality, left my marriage, and left my sanity when I was 27. I lost my political understanding of the world, I lost my religious understanding of the world, but mostly, I lost my personal relationship with my Lord and Savior, Christ Jesus. I am Jack's Broken Heart.
I graduated with high honors, and flew to meet Gwen. I was a size 0, suffering anxiety so severe that I could not fall asleep or stay asleep. My mother and I were not speaking. I had fallen in love with a woman. My marriage (obviously) suffered. I started a new job working at an elementary school with kids in Willow Glen. I started Graduate Studies at SJSU and had to take a leave in October because my husband was up crying every night, grieving our lost marriage. I would cry with him, and the guilt was enormous. My struggle with suicidal ideation was incredibly intense, and I nearly ended my life three times that year.
I moved out June 1st, age 28. The summer is a blur of drinking, drugging, and who knows what else. I thought I had a place to live for a year, but in fact, did not, and have since moved at least four times. I'm currently homeless. I began grad school again anyway. I overcame a drug addiction half way through the semester and started to apply myself to my studies. I barely passed on class, and got high B's in everything else. My grad school grades are the worst I've had in at least five years. I started talking to my parents again. I lost nearly all my friends.
I can be overwhelming. I can be too drunk, too needy, and too dependent. You probably should just stay away from me. But if you don't, you should know that I'm a very kind person, I'm pretty funny, and if I had to do anything to save anybody, no matter who they are, I would do it.
One day I will "get" where I could be, I will reach the potential that I have in me. I will remember who I met along the way, who helped me, and who didn't. I will understand why you did or didn't. I'm not about grudges, in fact, in the words of Adele: "like the meaner you treat me, more eager I am to persist in this heartbreak and runnin around" but I won't always be this way. Like I said, I'm a product of what made me. But I make me now. In the words of Incubus: "if you let them fuck you, there will be no foreplay." Life is nothing but a cold, hard, hustle. You never get something for nothing. And for me, unfortunately, you never really learn a lesson until you learn it. I have a lot of learning to do to make up for the life that I lived. I find myself learning quickly, and hope my street smarts will catch up to my book smarts eventually.
Until then, I bid you safe travels along your journey. Even after the turmoil and the pain unleashed from Pandora's Box, one thing remained: HOPE. Hope, indeed, is all that remained. THERE IS ALWAYS HOPE. A person can have faith, hope, and love. I have found my faith lost, I have found my hope sustained, and above all, I have found this to be true: the greatest of these is Love. In the words of Bradley: "Let the lovin, let the lovin, come back to me." Namasté.
Friday, January 21, 2011
one year ago...
rain pours, i ponder....
somewhere between my 40 oz to freedom and this circular little pill lies the spirit of me. i've been officially homeless for over a week. let me tell you, if you ever wonder who your friends are, go ahead and become homeless. it's guarenfuckingteed to help you figure shit out. :)
it's okay, though. i've finally come to realize that the unfairness of life can be so unfair, and you still have to work hard if you want to succeed, anyway. not only work hard, but hustle. LIFE IS A COLD, HARD, HUSTLE. YOU NEVER GET SOMETHING FOR NOTHING. thank you james M. rice. had it right from the beginning. (as usual).
once the 30th hits i'm housesitting again. i have until the 13th to officially find a place. until then it's beg for housing on couches, beds, floors, VW buses, whatever i can get. many thanks, Red Stag for the WI-FI. and the bud light.
when i have four walls, a stove, a toilet, and my cat, i will smile in ease, finally. i think i'm working my third year of pain at this point. but 2010 started beautifully, and i have HOPE, real hope, that this year will be different.
just had to painfully clip away some loose '09 ends, that's all.
goodbye past, hello future.
-hb
somewhere between my 40 oz to freedom and this circular little pill lies the spirit of me. i've been officially homeless for over a week. let me tell you, if you ever wonder who your friends are, go ahead and become homeless. it's guarenfuckingteed to help you figure shit out. :)
it's okay, though. i've finally come to realize that the unfairness of life can be so unfair, and you still have to work hard if you want to succeed, anyway. not only work hard, but hustle. LIFE IS A COLD, HARD, HUSTLE. YOU NEVER GET SOMETHING FOR NOTHING. thank you james M. rice. had it right from the beginning. (as usual).
once the 30th hits i'm housesitting again. i have until the 13th to officially find a place. until then it's beg for housing on couches, beds, floors, VW buses, whatever i can get. many thanks, Red Stag for the WI-FI. and the bud light.
when i have four walls, a stove, a toilet, and my cat, i will smile in ease, finally. i think i'm working my third year of pain at this point. but 2010 started beautifully, and i have HOPE, real hope, that this year will be different.
just had to painfully clip away some loose '09 ends, that's all.
goodbye past, hello future.
-hb
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
para
she stands on the shoulders of generational trauma
knitted in the womb with genetics of fear.
she falls from the ladder of success
down five floors of pain.
and leaves a note,
don't blame my therapist-
i'm more than he can handle.
xo hb
wakes with a start
gasps for air
hope stills the incessant beating...
still here.
still here.
knitted in the womb with genetics of fear.
she falls from the ladder of success
down five floors of pain.
and leaves a note,
don't blame my therapist-
i'm more than he can handle.
xo hb
wakes with a start
gasps for air
hope stills the incessant beating...
still here.
still here.
Friday, January 7, 2011
when i'm alone in my room, sometimes i stare at the wall: my 30 odd years blog.
i have been wanting to write for a minute, but, i am what has been so eloquently described as a "lazy piece of shit." to which i retort, stop looking like a coked out bird, cunt.
:)
having gotten that out, happy birthday me! i am three decades seasoned, bitches! i've shared the last decade with my kitty, who is snoozing on my pink fleece blanket, and bob marley buzzes in my ears letting me know everything will be alright. and you know, i think he might be right. i certainly have no woman, which according to him shall prevent me many tears.
all facetiousness aside, i have been single for a few years now. i can't say i have really had a chance to settle in and develop and all that, because i've been so mobile. leaving my work over the summer, and all those friendships left in that wake. did a number on me, really.
and now a paragraphic tribute to jen. who will probably never read this. (: i love loving women who do not have the slightest idea. amanda was more of a rock for me than she can know, and she let me into a world of social relationships with amazing people. the stag facilitated our meeting, and that was a trickle down from the ginger, which started with a pollock, once the drunkest guy i've known. the stag also gifted me with shannon, and with kitty. of course it also cursed me with some unfortunate events, but such is life.
when i was 20 i never would have known i COULD be anything like the person i am at 30. it's fascinating. in some ways i think my development has been backwards. marrying young, being in a committed relationship for eight years, holidays with two families, being an auntie, all that.
now i exist, on the eve of graduation, my degree in spitting distance (i hope), and no idea what will happen between this age and the next. it feels good to be 30 with no addictions, and technically no debt. i want to own my 30s. i have to start figuring out where i will be for my next placement. i have to find an internship for next year.
i should line up a second job here, too. i'm sick of being a broke bitch. to everything, a season. i found an amazing online show called the pinky show. it's an extremely liberal, extremely awesome expression of marginalized ideas, peoples, and a fantastic compassionate work. and the kitty is really cute, and her eyes look like crescent moons a lot which reminds me of victor. who i have not seen in so long, i can't even call him my sancho right now. but we still share a moon, and his heart beats somewhere...
the past few months i've been starting to actually consider getting into a relationship again. i have not in any way actually put myself into situations where i could meet people that would be a good fit for me, but intellectually i am stirring around the concept. the unfortunate celibacy i have picked up is rather... allergic. but i'm fairly trained in that too, as it were. i'm a good lay, but a terrible slut. meh.
it's whatever. one thing at a time, one day at a time. my iphone got stolen while i was at a friends house. it was an interesting lesson. i like to think i'm on top of my shit, but i had a temporary lapse in judgment, and a lot of alcohol. tis unfortunate. but now i have a 4g so i'm grateful for upgrades.
finished my comp, hopefully it's good enough to get to the next level before i beat the Game. can't wait! this semesters' classes are ones i am really looking forward to, with teachers i truly respect immensely. not necessarily looking forward to the second comp, but at least now i have some idea of what (type of hell) to expect. it's just a day in my life, at the end of the day.
i love my clients, i dig my supervisor. my classmates overall, are cool, and for the worst, the best is also reflected. i have a hacking cough right now, but i haven't smoked cigs in ~ 6-7 months, so i've officially quit quit. my room is my own, my bed is uncomfortable as fuck, but my girl might hook me up with hers in a few months. my roommates are cool, my boys (cats) are cool. i try to talk to my family as often as i can take. my ankle is still swollen, and i haven't started working out again just yet. i can start working out at SJSU, though. i stand a chance.
there's always a fools hope.
for every problem-saturated story there is always an, "but what about the time you didn't?"
that's how i quit everything in the past. you turn a regular thing into a time when you didn't, and eventually you just don't anymore.
i was so exhausted through christmas and my bday trying to watch LOTR was a difficulty. I may or may not decide to rewatch them this year, as i fell asleep during parts of them. i shall reflect and reconsider.
it's going to be so fucking amazing when i have enough money to travel. i can barely stand the concept. i have no fear, am extremely personable, and only tend to get victimized by friends. what could possibly go wrong?!
do not be fooled by the cheery atmosphere of this blog, i have been positively miserable for well over a month, if not six months. but change, she is a comin. everybody keeps telling me it will get easier, it will get better, it will be worth it, just a little bit longer...
and all i have to say to that is:
that's what she said.
happy new year, errybody. xxo
:)
having gotten that out, happy birthday me! i am three decades seasoned, bitches! i've shared the last decade with my kitty, who is snoozing on my pink fleece blanket, and bob marley buzzes in my ears letting me know everything will be alright. and you know, i think he might be right. i certainly have no woman, which according to him shall prevent me many tears.
all facetiousness aside, i have been single for a few years now. i can't say i have really had a chance to settle in and develop and all that, because i've been so mobile. leaving my work over the summer, and all those friendships left in that wake. did a number on me, really.
and now a paragraphic tribute to jen. who will probably never read this. (: i love loving women who do not have the slightest idea. amanda was more of a rock for me than she can know, and she let me into a world of social relationships with amazing people. the stag facilitated our meeting, and that was a trickle down from the ginger, which started with a pollock, once the drunkest guy i've known. the stag also gifted me with shannon, and with kitty. of course it also cursed me with some unfortunate events, but such is life.
when i was 20 i never would have known i COULD be anything like the person i am at 30. it's fascinating. in some ways i think my development has been backwards. marrying young, being in a committed relationship for eight years, holidays with two families, being an auntie, all that.
now i exist, on the eve of graduation, my degree in spitting distance (i hope), and no idea what will happen between this age and the next. it feels good to be 30 with no addictions, and technically no debt. i want to own my 30s. i have to start figuring out where i will be for my next placement. i have to find an internship for next year.
i should line up a second job here, too. i'm sick of being a broke bitch. to everything, a season. i found an amazing online show called the pinky show. it's an extremely liberal, extremely awesome expression of marginalized ideas, peoples, and a fantastic compassionate work. and the kitty is really cute, and her eyes look like crescent moons a lot which reminds me of victor. who i have not seen in so long, i can't even call him my sancho right now. but we still share a moon, and his heart beats somewhere...
the past few months i've been starting to actually consider getting into a relationship again. i have not in any way actually put myself into situations where i could meet people that would be a good fit for me, but intellectually i am stirring around the concept. the unfortunate celibacy i have picked up is rather... allergic. but i'm fairly trained in that too, as it were. i'm a good lay, but a terrible slut. meh.
it's whatever. one thing at a time, one day at a time. my iphone got stolen while i was at a friends house. it was an interesting lesson. i like to think i'm on top of my shit, but i had a temporary lapse in judgment, and a lot of alcohol. tis unfortunate. but now i have a 4g so i'm grateful for upgrades.
finished my comp, hopefully it's good enough to get to the next level before i beat the Game. can't wait! this semesters' classes are ones i am really looking forward to, with teachers i truly respect immensely. not necessarily looking forward to the second comp, but at least now i have some idea of what (type of hell) to expect. it's just a day in my life, at the end of the day.
i love my clients, i dig my supervisor. my classmates overall, are cool, and for the worst, the best is also reflected. i have a hacking cough right now, but i haven't smoked cigs in ~ 6-7 months, so i've officially quit quit. my room is my own, my bed is uncomfortable as fuck, but my girl might hook me up with hers in a few months. my roommates are cool, my boys (cats) are cool. i try to talk to my family as often as i can take. my ankle is still swollen, and i haven't started working out again just yet. i can start working out at SJSU, though. i stand a chance.
there's always a fools hope.
for every problem-saturated story there is always an, "but what about the time you didn't?"
that's how i quit everything in the past. you turn a regular thing into a time when you didn't, and eventually you just don't anymore.
i was so exhausted through christmas and my bday trying to watch LOTR was a difficulty. I may or may not decide to rewatch them this year, as i fell asleep during parts of them. i shall reflect and reconsider.
it's going to be so fucking amazing when i have enough money to travel. i can barely stand the concept. i have no fear, am extremely personable, and only tend to get victimized by friends. what could possibly go wrong?!
do not be fooled by the cheery atmosphere of this blog, i have been positively miserable for well over a month, if not six months. but change, she is a comin. everybody keeps telling me it will get easier, it will get better, it will be worth it, just a little bit longer...
and all i have to say to that is:
that's what she said.
happy new year, errybody. xxo
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