Life cut in two

I keep forgetting that I don’t have some things anymore, because I left them in my past. And so when I look for things like my boots, or orange cat, or old school stuff, or my pink dress, my collection of books… I remember I don’t have it anymore. I didn’t choose to misplace all this stuff,  it just sort of happened. All it took was a little razor blade to cut my life in two. Separate my past from my now. I live this weird life with a past, and a different past that almost seems like it didn’t exist, only it did. It feels like an intermission period sort of. So, for most of you, life went on for that time continuously… but not me. It was like my life went on a detour that nobody knows of, so when you ask me about my life, and I tell you how horrible it is, you simply don’t get it. It’s alien to you. Then I wonder why you asked, or even better I wonder why I talked about it. It’s like I’m talking about something I might’ve imagined. You wonder why I even have these feelings about something that isn’t real. But no, I shit you not, it really happened. So the next time I tell you I am upset because I can’t find a book, or my stuffed animal, or my family, or some clothes, just… well I’ll keep it to myself then. I forgot I severed that part of my life. 

Bad dreams

I had another bad dream. In this one, I was sleeping outside a shop of sorts in a strip mall. I was working at subway and it wasn't open yet, so I was sleeping outside, because I was homeless. When it finally opened, I didn't know what to do or how to do things. There were so many people ordering stuff, and I didn't know how to do it. And my things were all over this shop. Like my dresser and my clothes and stuff. And my dad (adoptive) walked in to the store because he was the manager. And he started grabbing my stuff and loading them on to a dolly and throwing them away, or taking them. And I had to keep working, because I couldn't afford not to, but I stopped and followed him out screaming for him to give me my stuff back. And just asking him why he was doing this. I was sobbing and people were watching me and I just kept looking around screaming for my mom to get him to stop. Only he was really angry and just kept throwing my stuff away. And mom only just looked at me, but wouldn't stop him. And people would just look at me but not try to help me or stop him. I was begging him to stop and he simply wouldn't. And I remember Jacob being in that dream too, being one of the people that just looked at me. Not a look like they felt sorry for me, but just a look of you deserve this. And I was completely helpless.

This was my awful bad dream. I woke up weepy from it, remembering that there's nothing I can do about that. They do have a lot of my stuff. But stuff is just stuff. Idk, that wasn't the part that made me sad. It was the part where I realize I'm no longer loved by them that stings.

Engaged

A year ago I was engaged.

Then again, a year ago, one month after getting engaged, I never talked to him again. Well, once, when I went to California. He was still an asshole.

I wonder sometimes, more often than not. When is somebody going to love me?

Hoka hey!

Brandon Ottens taught me my senior year of high school, that "Today is a great day to die!"
Not for me, for everyone else. This was to be my battle cry.... and I haven't ever really used it. No, I'm not gonna go on this killing spree, that would take so much work and make a mess and I'd just get caught and buttraped in prison... wait I'm a girl... uhhhh whatever happens to girls in prison.... anywho...

I guess, I have to start using my battle cry more often.

Motivation

Rocky Balboa:

I'd hold you up to say to your mother, "this kid's gonna be the best kid in the world. This kid's gonna be somebody better than anybody I ever knew." And you grew up good and wonderful. It was great just watching you, every day was like a privilege  Then the time come for you to be your own man and take on the world, and you did. But somewhere along the line, you changed. You stopped being you. You let people stick a finger in your face and tell you you're no good. And when things got hard, you started looking for something to blame, like a big shadow. Let me tell you something you already know. The world ain't all sunshine and rainbows. It's a very mean and nasty place and I don't care how tough you are it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain't about how hard ya hit. It's about how hard you can get it and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. That's how winning is done! Now if you know what you're worth then go out and get what you're worth. But ya gotta be willing to take the hits, and not pointing fingers saying you ain't where you wanna be because of him, or her, or anybody! Cowards do that and that ain't you! You're better than that! I'm always gonna love you no matter what. No matter what happens. You're my son and you're my blood. You're the best thing in my life. But until you start believing in yourself, ya ain't gonna have a life. Don't forget to visit your mother.



Our Deepest Fear
by Marianne Williamson
from A Return To Love: Reflections on the Principles of A Course in Miracles



“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”


Al Pacino's Inch By Inch speech from Any Given Sunday

I don't know what to say really.
Three minutes
to the biggest battle of our professional lives
all comes down to today.
Either
we heal
as a team
or we are going to crumble.
Inch by inch
play by play
till we're finished.
We are in hell right now, gentlemen
believe me
and
we can stay here
and get the shit kicked out of us
or
we can fight our way
back into the light.
We can climb out of hell.
One inch, at a time.

Now I can't do it for you.
I'm too old.
I look around and I see these young faces
and I think
I mean
I made every wrong choice a middle age man could make.
I uh....
I pissed away all my money
believe it or not.
I chased off
anyone who has ever loved me.
And lately,
I can't even stand the face I see in the mirror.

You know when you get old in life
things get taken from you.
That's, that's part of life.
But,
you only learn that when you start losing stuff.
You find out that life is just a game of inches.
So is football.
Because in either game
life or football
the margin for error is so small.
I mean
one half step too late or to early
you don't quite make it.
One half second too slow or too fast
and you don't quite catch it.
The inches we need are everywhere around us.
They are in ever break of the game
every minute, every second.

On this team, we fight for that inch
On this team, we tear ourselves, and everyone around us
to pieces for that inch.
We CLAW with our finger nails for that inch.
Cause we know
when we add up all those inches
that's going to make the fucking difference
between WINNING and LOSING
between LIVING and DYING.

I'll tell you this
in any fight
it is the guy who is willing to die
who is going to win that inch.
And I know
if I am going to have any life anymore
it is because, I am still willing to fight, and die for that inch
because that is what LIVING is.
The six inches in front of your face.

Now I can't make you do it.
You gotta look at the guy next to you.
Look into his eyes.
Now I think you are going to see a guy who will go that inch with you.
You are going to see a guy
who will sacrifice himself for this team
because he knows when it comes down to it,
you are gonna do the same thing for him.

That's a team, gentlemen
and either we heal now, as a team,
or we will die as individuals.
That's football guys.
That's all it is.
Now, whattaya gonna do?


Rocky Balboa: I appreciate that, but maybe you're looking out for your interests just a little bit more. I mean you shouldn't be asking people to come down here and pay the freight on something they paid, it still ain't good enough, I mean you think that's right? I mean maybe you're doing your job but why you gotta stop me from doing mine? Cause if you're willing to go through all the battling you got to go through to get where you want to get, who's got the right to stop you? I mean maybe some of you guys got something you never finished, something you really want to do, something you never said to someone, something... and you're told no, even after you paid your dues? Who's got the right to tell you that, who? Nobody! It's your right to listen to your gut, it ain't nobody's right to say no after you earned the right to be where you want to be and do what you want to do!... You know, the older I get the more things I gotta leave behind, that's life. The only thing I'm asking you guys to leave on the table... is what's right.

Motivation

Reminder of why I gotta keep going.

Thanks friend.

Letter to my pastor.

I write this letter in a very urgent manner, I apologize in advance for my tone. I just happen to feel extremely desperate and I need your help.

Almost every night now, I stay up late hating myself. Because I feel that everyone else does. I have come to a point in my life, once again, where I question if I'm supposed to still be here. I'm tired. At my 23 years of age, I feel like have lived through way too much heartbreak. And I know, I know, "a servant is not above his master..." or however that goes.

I am having a hard time. And once again I am feeling suicidal. Or at least long overdue for some cutting. Not really suicidal then, but I spend a good 3/4 of my day fantasizing about it.  How everyone will be sad, and feel sorry and finally pay attention. Sick, isn't it. Guess my mind is like that now a days.

I don't know who to turn to, because well, at this point, I sort of have no one. I was abandoned by the ones I thought were my family. Sure, I have my biological family whom I am nothing but a burden to, all devoid of emotions and uneasy of mine. It feels like the only way they know to react to my overwhelming emotions is to get angry with me, or to ignore me. It shouldn't surprise me anymore, but it does. I have only one friend, whom I think I overwhelm to the point where he just doesn't want to deal with me anymore. So, I come to you.

Where do I start? I suppose by telling you this: I am angry, I am lonely, I am heartbroken, lost and tired. Why? Well I suppose that would mean recount the past few months of my life.

In February of this year, I was thriving. Two jobs, my own apartment, my own car, I had everything to be grateful for. But I still had a very broken heart. And so my mind was overwhelmed to where I went back to a very ugly old habit of mine: cutting. It got to a point where I did it every day. And it was getting progressively worse. I secluded myself in a world of my own, and even though everything looked good on the outside, I was falling apart at a very fast rate. To the point where I had planned out how to kill myself. Several times. And it was entirely horrifying to have those thoughts. But I had very little emotional output at this time. Mom (Shannon) was away with her brother dying of cancer, I had to stick to my routine of cutting and suppressing all my emotions. So it continued this way, until one day, mom asked me to come to California with her, so I could get away from it all.

And so, I didn't think twice. I wanted away from this heavy cloud that was over me. I packed everything up, and it was literally 3 days later that my things were packed and in the car to go to California. I left both my jobs, and my apartment and car were to be taken over by Jacob and Lexy. In the meantime we took baby Gabriel, whom I was to look after while he stayed up there with us, then as soon as he left, I was to find a job and get myself settled up there. Well, it didn't go that way. It was only going to be temporary, just to check things out up there, she said. Well I watched the baby and didn't do much of anything else, since it was just temporary. After the few weeks the baby was up there with us, Mom came back to Mesa with him and left me up there. I was to help her brother and his wife while she was gone. A fight ensued a little after she was gone, and mom said I shouldn't go over there anymore. So I stayed in our trailer, all alone, for another week or so, until her relatives from Sacramento came to rescue me.

In the time I was up there, my car got repossessed here in Mesa. Well duh, I hadn't made payments since I left. Not on insurance, or the car. I was under the assumption that it was going to get taken care of by Jacob and Lexy, since they used it more than I had. I lost the car and was devastated. And frustrated because I was powerless to do anything while being stuck in California. I also felt very abandoned by Shannon and the rest of my family. In the time I was up there, I lied to my biological family of where I was staying and my biological dad almost died of heatstroke. So I was scared, carless, ruined my credit and just lonely. I told Aunt Virgie of the situation, and she was really angry, but she decided she would pay for my car to be taken out of the impound lot, and for me to fly home.

I spent almost two months up there until Shannon came back. It was because Brett was dying. Again, she brought the baby with her, as well as Jacob and Lexy. So the day that Brett passed away, I was there. But I couldn't go back to the trailer with them, because there was no room in the car. I had to go back to Sacramento with the relatives. Well the next morning we drove out to Oroville again. And that's when all kinds of awful things were said about me. How I would lie and pit people against each other and all these things. Shannon was telling Virgie and Tiffany. Jacob and Lexy flew home the next morning, and Rachel flew in shortly after that. They went back to the trailer, and I was left in Sacramento because my flight was coming up. I was being pushed out, it seemed. Virgie wrote that check out to Shannon, who convinced me that I better use that check for rent, because my car was gone and I needed to find somewhere to work and that was going to take some time. So, that was the plan when I flew back.

Bill picked me up at the airport, bought me a few things at the grocery store and took me straight to my apartment, with no bed or any furniture. It was a few days until I got any of that back. And I was unable to go anywhere, being carless. I would call home, and no one would answer, I would leave messages and voicemails and was just so lonely, running out of food and groceries and rent date coming up close. I kept cutting. Even worse now, to the point where the scars just formed new scars over old ones.

Rent day came in and I called dad. No answer. Finally the eviction notice came. I called again. He said that money wasn't for that, that he had no way of helping me. I called mom in panic, and she said the same thing. I don't know how to help you. I was so helpless at this point and so angry and so frustrated that I decided I was done. And I slit my wrists. I got scared and started messaging the Samaritans instead. They traced my phone line back to the Stark house and they were directed to my apartment from that point. I got tons of calls from Shannon, none of which I answered. I called my biological brother to come get me, and take me to the hospital. I was taken by the police, and my phone was taken away from me.

My biological mom went to the hospital to see me, to get her car keys, since I had borrowed her car that day. I didn't want anyone to see me, so the nurse staff didn't let her in. She says she went back to my apartment to get my cats. At this point Shannon and Lexi were in there taking stuff, that was theirs. Shannon sent me a message saying she had gone to the hospital but they wouldn't let her in. My mom says that's what she told Shannon. So I guess I'll never know. 3 &1/2 weeks in a mental institution was where I spent most of my July. Not once did they look for me or try to come see me. They blamed everyone else for me doing what I did. Also, the day I got out, I discovered my phone was disconnected. I felt like I was just thrown away.

After I got out, I didn't go to therapy. Who can afford it? I don't even have health insurance. I stayed a month in Mexico, and from when I came back until now, I have been in the same room, on the same bed, day in and day out. I am paralyzed by this depression. I don't know what to do with myself. For 6 years or so, I had a stable-ish family. One whom I didn't mind giving up my paychecks for, helping around the house, running errands, helping to raise Hannah and Gabriel. I thought they loved me. I truly did. And I have never felt like such a fool in my life. Now I'm back to my ugly reality. Where my mom works for minimum wage and has to support my little sister and now me.Where every two weekends she drives down to Mexico to see my dad. And my life is just this. She has no sympathy for me, she is frustrated that she can't support me, and I feel like an enormous burden. I have gained so much weight, so not alot of my clothes fit. I don't feel adequate to go to a job interview, in fact I am scared to death of them.

I feel like they can automatically see my emotional brokenness, and don't want to hire me. And so I'm practically useless. And I am reminded of it almost every day.

So, here's my main dilemma: I know that I need Jesus in my life. I know that's why I'm writing this letter, to you in particular. I know that. But I am scared, and upset, and feel so alone, to the point where I don't know where he is. I try to pray and most days, it's like he's not there anymore. So I get angrier. And I go in the opposite direction some more.

I feel like, because Shannon led me to Jesus in the first place, I feel like I don't get him anymore. I am living in a Catholic household who demands I embrace the Catholic church again, since "that's what I get for trusting Christians." It's been boiled down to that: Shannon is a Christian, and she hung me out to dry, therefore it's wrong to be a Christian, and I'm stupid if I still want to be one. That's my family's way of thinking.

And I am slightly guilty of associating Jesus that way. And I know I shouldn't. I feel so alone. And very frustrated. And I know I need Jesus, I do. I just don't know how to go about getting him again.

I wish I could meet up with you, and talk about this more.
It's just so much and so overwhelming. But I just need to talk to someone about it. Because it is eating me up inside and I don't know how much longer I can take it.

Odd nightmares...

I dreamt that I was in my Grandmother's house and that it was haunted and she couldn't go into certain rooms, especially not the one on the fifth floor of a mansion she had gotten from a marriage. It was dark and really long hallways led to other rooms but we stuck to the staircases. We would go up to the fifth floor and try to coax out whatever was in that room. In the shadows there was something evil lurking and it would cause me great fear, but curiosity kept me wanting to see what was in the room. A little white half-eaten dog came out of that room, but we ran downstairs again. My grandma was afraid, but wouldn't leave the house. The pastor came to try and bless the house but whatever was in there was too powerful so he begged us all to leave. I went up there again and fought a demon or the devil, I don't remember the outcome. We ended up leaving the house in rafts or Kayaks or something over some really warm water.

hai

Dear Blogger,

I have become addicted to Tumblr, because well it's Cal's fault.

sorry I don't post on here anymore ever...

I suck. v.v

Peter Pan

I feel like one of the lost boys. Only I'm a girl, that refuses to grow up. Well not really refuses, I just kinda royally suck at doing so. I did at one point had all the grownup things, but the child me, the one that likes to run and hide, decided to run away to California. Not the smartest thing I've done. I think I've ranted enough about it, and I need to start doing something about it. That's the hard part, the beginning. That initial oomph needed to get the ball rolling. Not that I've lost any of my work ethic. But it's deff time to grow up. Wendy's last night in the nursery. I have always loved that book. Wendy Moira Angela Darling. She had to grow up. Can't spend her whole life making up stories

Totem Pole

I needed somewhere to get my priorities straight...

 Because right now they look more like a giant pile that is about to come toppling down on me. So I'm gonna stack them like a totem pole. Only, I'm not very good at doing that, because I'm of the disorganized sort. Only I'm really not, so maybe I should stop being what I'm not, and start being who I am, or was, or idk. So back to my list of priorities, number one should be getting my life back on track. I keep saying I'm stuck in this rut, but not really doing anything to fix this situation.
So come to find out I'm the problem... gwah... gotta fix me then.

love

This is true:

  This is you:

This is how we both feel:

 As for me, this is how I feel:

This is what I have:

And well...

Plan B, that's me

Feeling pretty shitty, and I know I'm not going to sleep tonight... I guess least I can do is cry my makeup off in the tub... and post here.  Why? Oh because, you know, my heart is a fucktard. Basically.

Today, my mom's friend's son asked me out. After me being dragged over to their house and having to listen to their gossip for almost 4 hours, we started talking and basically hit it off. So you know, our moms joked about how we were in love, I blushed, he blushed... whatever. Next thing you know, We're talking about random stuff and he's like, so what are you doing next weekend? And I was like uhhh probably nothing, why? And he was like, well we should hang out, go to the movies or something, get dinner, hang out. I like you, you're funny and I wanna get to know you, he says... and immediately my heart got overwhelmed.

A) I haven't been asked out on a date, since like... well Gabe. Like completely unexpected, let's go on a date thing. Hanging out is different. And he's a good looking guy. Let's remember where my confidence is...

B) I immediately thought of the following person: Cal. Up to now, I figured we're basically in a relationship. Only, not really. We're practically still single, but a lot of my emotions are attached to him. Also, it doesn't help that I just kissed him on Friday (today is Sunday... well was.) So that being said, a date would possibly require some hand holding. Again, something I just did on Friday, with Cal. Now, a date would possibly lead to date-ing, which leaves very little room for Cal. And that would mean I can no longer kiss, hold hands, or do other things with Cal. And that makes me uncomfortable. Because I don't want to do any of that with anyone else. Especially letting anyone else put their hands on me. I feel like I shouldn't let anyone do that.

C) Reminder that Cal isn't my boyfriend. I more than likely hold no romantic future with him. If it was up to me, yes. But it's not. Which sucks.

So... I am still rather excited from point A, and I just post that shit on Tumblr. Why? Because sometimes a girl wants to prove she isn't a total loser and still gets asked on dates. Dates that I am free to talk about anywhere and not have to hide or pretend they didn't happen.

And then the conversation starts. And the gyst of it is:

C- Woah, you got asked out?
Me- yeah kind of, I haven't answered
C-Well... I don't know if I should be jealous or happy
Me- uhh... *immediately regrets post*
C-*basically apologizes for keeping me tied up*
Me-*hates my life, because I kind of wanted you to put up more of a fight* Well...*wait... does this mean you don't care?* I feel like I should ask for your permission...
C-you don't have to
Me-*confused... so you don't care... well fuck. wonders if going on this date is a good idea, you know to see what's out there* yeah, well... *I don't really wanna go*
C-*apologizes some more, how he doesn't deserve me... (I most deff feel like shit)*
Me- "You know you're my first choice, always. If I knew that waiting for you would get you, I wouldn't think twice about it. But I don't know. And the more I think about it, the less I want to go anywhere with anyone that isn't you. But then what am I to do? Sit and wait and be plan B. What if plan A works? I still lose."
C-*more apologies*
Me- Do your math work... we'll talk about this after
C- yeah well we can talk if/when I run to Walmart
Me-kay
*homework help* homework help* homework help*
done with homework
awkward conversation about gun ownage and other light topics
C-Kay, I'm going to bed, sorry again
Me-*no Walmart trip mentioned, no more about the conversation*
C-Posts on his blog.


-_-


So... basically I don't know how to feel right now. Bummed doesn't begin to describe it. See, this was just a "Let's hang out." thing I got invited to. I don't know if this guy has a girlfriend. I don't know if he's gay. I don't know if we're even going to call it a date. I don't even know if this is something. But, I felt so easily surrendered. And that kind of hurt more. So, pardon me, guy #2, but I probably won't feel like "hanging out" on Saturday. I don't know. Part of me does, because as stated above, I'm scared that I'll always be stuck as plan B. But then, what?


I don't know.


For now, I'll do what I do best... go cry in the bathtub. Why? Because sometimes, I wish you would stop me from doing stupid shit. Sometimes, I wish you would want me enough. And sometimes, I wish you realized how hard I try to keep you, but when the tables are turned, it isn't the same amount of energy. And this is just a "hang out." But you know, all is lost, too bad, so sad, okay I'm over it. That kind of felt like your reaction. Hurts. Cest la vie? Guess so. Kay bye.

I'll save it for someone special

I sit here, middle of September, realizing a couple of things:
First one is that we are 3 months away from Christmas. I am not ready for this.
I am listening to Christmas music on Pandora... Silver Bells.
I feel a giant ache in my heart, and it may or may not have anything to do with the fact that I just had a whole 32oz cup full of coffee at 10pm.

Okay, so we all know how I had a falling out with the people that were my family for the last 6 years, during possibly my most important time in my life, you know me turning into an adult, getting through trauma, learning important life lessons and following traditions...all that good jazz. Well, I happen to be determined to get over them and move on with my life. For my sake.

So... I'm over here Tumblr-ing away through Christmas stuff, listening now to Andy Williams' "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year." His beautiful crooning bringing lots of warm fuzzy feelings and some haunted memories as well. And so I say to myself, I need to get my own memories. My own traditions, my own collection of Christmas movies, my own decorations. All that stuff.

I better start collecting. Because now I have absolutely nothing. Stuff is funny like that, so easy to lose it all. Oh well, replaceable. This is kind of bittersweet. My bio family- whom I am now back with (I swear, doesn't this sound like a boyfriend relationship? Wahh my boyfriend of 6 years left me and is now my ex while I'm back with my original ex... drahma city! Eeek...) Anyways. My bio family doesn't really go all out on Christmas. Really they just do Christmas eve party till midnight, open presents (presents are usually just for the kids) and go to bed, Christmas day is not a big deal at all. We don't even do Christmas dinner. Just Christmas eve dinner. This won't do... No over the top decorations, no smells of cinnamon and pine and treats a baking. No beautiful displays of Christmas towns or boxes of decorative gifts under the elaborately decorated tree. No carefully cooked treats and candy everywhere or decadent cookies. No Christmas activities and crafts nights, where perfect rice krispies shaped into gingerbread men and trees and angels are dusted with colored sugar crystals. No pop pom, googly eyes, and pipe cleaner penguins and bears. No Christmas radio with Delilah on 99.9, no wearing ugly sweaters and fun socks, no watching classic Christmas movies all day. No Muppet Christmas Carol, Elf, Polar Express, It's a Beautiful Life, Jingle all the Way, Home Alone...
Well. I better get on it then. I need to bring some intense Christmas spirit around here. I hope it works, because my family isn't very cooperative. Christmas time is basically my #1 joy in life. If I ever go crazy, I need you to send me up to the North Pole or like Alaska, and I will pretend it's Christmas time year round.
I will wrap presents year round, and be ultra crafty every day. Ahhhh that would be the life.

We shall deck the Halls... fo sho. Speaking of decking the halls, I deff need a job a.s.a.p, so I can make all of the above come true. And possibly have me living somewhere other than my sister's house. Because she is a control freak, and the aforementioned festivities would be taken over... sorry dude, I'm the Christmas freak darn it! Yeah I need my own space. As much as I am glad to share my love for the decoratings and stuff, I want stuff my way. I too am a control freak, and I don't think it will go very well if we are under the same roof trying to decorate. So yeah. I needs my own place to decorate like super mad crazy, with all kinds of festive beauties and stuff.Anywhoo... yeah Christmas will be very hard for me this year, but I want it to be mine. My own Christmas where I can do all the stuff I want, bake all the stuff I want, decorate how I want, and spend time with people that want me in their lives. So this is basically a fair warning... If you know me, be prepared to be attacked with all kinds of Christmas spirit coming from me (no different from me any other year, but still.) Also be prepared to be dragged to places you probably wouldn't be caught dead at, possibly gaining a million pounds from me shoving treats and hot chocolate in your face and possibly ready to sustain some hot glue injuries. Also, you will be dragged to Zoolights, possibly the Mormon temple lights, and to all the houses that I know that put up Christmas light shows, and possibly driving around and seeing all the amazing decorations. Yeah torturous stuff. But you love me, so deal with it.

Yeah I am determined to have myself a merry little Christmas, I have to. I owe it to myself. I need this year to be over, that's for sure. I also can't just keep looking back for those that hurt me, and taking the ones in my life right now for granted. So what better way to embrace my crazy family, than to incorporate them into my Christmas activities. I'm not going to try and recreate anything. I will always cherish every Christmas, from the years past. From the poor-er Christmas where even though we didn't have a lot of gifts, we were all together, and there was avocadoes, a very pregnant Lexy and Thousand Island dressing, walking down Southern ave at midnight; to the Christmas where I spent thousands, like 4 months paychecks, on presents and we all got a big chunk of presents. Christmas when we woke up and my sister and I got matching kitchen sets and all the fun fake food. The Christmas we spent in Bullhead city and my dad drove all the way to LA and back, because we didn't want our Maltese puppy, Snow, to spend it alone.

 The Christmas where it snowed outside our hotel room and we made a snowman for the first time. And snow angels. Beautiful, fat, snow angels, right by the pool area. The Christmas where we got a mountain of Barbies and toys taller than each of us. The Christmas my parents broke up and my dad tried buying us with a trip to Toys R Us... don't worry, they made up. The Christmas we spent at Ramon's house and all us kids were hanging out in the backyard and Giovanni's dog scared a possum, which scared the shit out of me and I ran inside screaming that there was a giant rat outside, and my dad and uncles spending the whole afternoon hunting the thing. Junior, Jessica, Faustito, My sister, Me, my brother, Ines, Giovanni and Alexis. All the kids I grew up with. Also when we discovered all the presents hidden in the room in giant Toys R Us bags. And us watching movies on the giant projector screen and pulling all the mattresses into the den. Not gonna lie, my childhood Christmases, as well as recent ones, were all freaking awesome.

I love Christmas. It's just a huge part of who I am. As much of a mess I am, that is the time that I save for peace of mind for myself. There is no such thing as sad times during Christmas time. It begins the day after Thanksgiving, ends on January 6th. That seems like such a long time, and not enough time... But that's gonna be my thing. It's funny no matter what seems to be falling apart (my love life for instance) Christmas time just fixes everything. Also, I am horrible about appreciating God throughout the year, but Jesus is the Reason for the Season. So I deff take time to thank him all throughout the holiday season.

Things I wanna make:
a gingerbread house... edible or not, I need one or 50 of these to be made. Also possibly a candy train.
string popcorn to put on my tree... I know... the cat will get into it and eat it. Idc.
crafts, crafts, crafts
I want to try cooking a turkey by myself. Maybe use this one for Thanksgiving, but we'll see.
Lots of edibles
Beautifully wrapped parcels and packages
tons of money to make all this happen
There are probably a ton of other things to add to that list. But yeah. I'm pretty excited, and deff planning for it in my head as we speak. Will it be perfect? I dunno, I actually kind of expect it not to be, but I'm hoping to do the best with what I have, with who I have in my life. So I promise to try very hard to make it as Christmas-y as possible. And try to make you all feel as happy as I feel when Christmas is in the air. It's very difficult to explain for me. For sure all my troubles melt away. Another thing about me during Christmas, I love everyone. It's outrageous and inexplicable and just beffudling. I will seriously just be all about joy and cheer and Christmas spirit, and you'll probably hate me. But oh well.

I will make you memorize Christmas songs with me, possibly spend all the season sleeping in the same room as the Christmas tree, and wearing hoodies. Me saying I love Christmas is an understatement. Total understatement. I think it's a big deal to me, because it just means stability. Deff not about the presents for me. I really wanna pass this on to those around me and hopefully one day my children. I want to be able to be known for my awesome Christmases. Not the presents part, although that doesn't hurt. It's always fun to have presents. But the feel goods are what I want to share. The ability to put a smile on someone's face with just a smell of cinnamon, or the sight of a carefully decorated tree, or the feel of a cold winter's snuggle while watching movies.

In my mind, Christmases are meant to be perfect. So will I be home for Christmas? Sure, as long as I get in the right mindset. My heart will always miss those whom I've made memories with, especially Christmas ones. I might get teary eyed listening to Silver bells and remember Rachel and Nicky doing it in sign language. I might sigh at the smell of hot glue and remember all the beautiful life sized gingerbread houses made with mom. I might sniffle while decorating, remembering every single decoration I helped put up and all the time we would spend doing it just so. Remembering making Jake mad when asking him to bring out the bins, and put all these other ones away. Remembering the way dad would put the lights on the tree just so, and Isaac's rants about how we didn't need 5 different trees. And Isaac feeling sorry for our lack of construction abilities and him finally constructing a beautiful wooden gingerbread house. And Rachel's singing of "dus has a purple trwee, dus has a purple trwee!" Pictionary and coloring books while mom makes pie and hot chocolate. Gabriel's toys singing "ring-a-ding-a-ling-a-ding-dong-ding." Mom and I making outrageous high pitched squeals when excitedly talking about anything Christmas-y, or hanging out in the garage when it was effing cold out each with a hot glue in hand and nonsense everywhere, making our gingerbread house perfect. I'll miss it. You rest assured I'll miss it more than anything.

In a way, "last Christmas, I gave you my heart and the very next day, you gave it away. This year, I'm saving my tears, I'll give it to someone special..." Who's the special someone this year? Basically everyone in my life right now. They have a right to know about Christmas fun Annel. That's who I wanna spend Christmas with. The people who are still in my life and want to be part of it. That's who I want to do the fun stuff with. That's who I want to cook for and make new memories with. So welcome aboard. Now I have to make myself a new home. It's not going to be perfect, I know that. If I can keep my brother and sister from fighting, my little sister to keep believing in Santa, and make some delicious food, I will call it good. We're not perfect but I can try and make it work. It's not going to be the same, I know that. Hopefully everyone will cooperate. That would make me happy. Just trying to have a happy Christmas. That's my goal. A happy Christmas. Trying to keep Santa alive in my mind.

A *Cheshire* Cat

So the other day, yesterday, maybe today, I woke up from a dream. My mom (not bio) was across the table from me, and she was crying. And she wanted to touch me, but I kept pulling away. She wanted to see my scars and I would just hide them, she wanted to talk but all I did was turn away. I remember waking up from this dream with some pain. It's not real. I can't keep creating things that I want to hear, or see, or feel. I can't keep creating feelings for others either. I'm not even in control of my own. Do I want to be rescued and told everything is going to be okay? More than anything. But I can't live in the past, just like I can't create feelings for everyone else. I just have to let it be. Move along, as the song that just popped on Pandora says.

There's no point in me just spending all my time thinking about what anyone is thinking about me. That's just a waste. A waste for me, a waste for those who want to know the real me. I miss you, but you're just a shadow. I'm sorry for whatever's happened, but I have to keep moving. I just have to.

I have come to the realization that my heart, hurt as it is, is very capable of love. Even after all the pain it has been through. I kind of like it that way. I have a good heart. Do whatever you want to it, it'll always love you. It's actually the one that trumps my ego and accepts apologies.

Idk why I felt I had to talk about this, but it's been sitting heavy on my heart lately. Most days I wonder if I am making the correct decisions, and I'm not going to lie, I am terrified. I hurt, but I have to stop sitting in the  painful spots and keep moving forward.


Alice: Oh, no, no. I was just wondering if you could help me find my way.
Cheshire Cat: Well that depends on where you want to get to.
Alice: Oh, it really doesn't matter, as long as...
Cheshire Cat: Then it really doesn't matter which way you go.

^^advice I need to follow. Maybe

Being Beautiful

NOTE: PLEASE TAKE TIME TO LISTEN TO THESE SONGS AND PAY ATTENTION TO THE LYRICS :)


Tomorrow, if I feel better, I shall dedicate the day to being beautiful. And that means putting in the extra effort it takes. Now many, if not all of you, have at one point called me beautiful. I am going to go ahead and admit it: I think I have a pretty face. I have unusually dark eyes with a perfect blend of laughter and pain. I have an honest smile. I feel that my nose is a bit wide, and yet just so with it's habit of crinkling when I laugh. I have a round face that sometimes, when I smile just right, gets a dimple. Just one. I have a ton of little reddish brown freckles that are dotted on my cheeks, forehead and nose. And my eyebrows don't match. I'm cool with that. I have cute little hands and feet and my body is just short. Short little arms, short little legs, short torso. And some wide, baby making hips whom have the need to always bump into counters and get bruised. My body's way of punishing me for not having any babies yet. Lol. Anyways if I could pick out one word to describe myself with, it would be cute. And yet I see every single one of my flaws.

By flaws I mean my terrible skin that keeps breaking out. And the fact that I don't have even skin color on my face. Or anywhere else. I am short, and very much overweight, therefore the way my weight is dispersed throughout my smaller frame is not very cute. It's actually quite terrible. I hate wearing clothes with no sleeves because my arms are all kinds of fat. True story, my recent ex actually said something about them once and it really hurt my feelings. That asshole! Anyways... I have confused hair that is supposed to be curly, but because I straighten it almost daily, it is just poofy/wavy. It is very thin and also quite oily, so it requires daily washing for sure. Even though I won't wash it every day. At the same time, I'm a pretty hairy girl. I bought into the shaving my arms like during 7th grade, but by the time 9th grade came around I got sick of it and now my arm hair is super long. And gross. I have a fuzzeh lower back (that my sister waxed yesterday, so it's nice and smooth today but holy wow that was painful!!!!) So anyways I really hate shaving!!! It takes me forever!!!

Anyways. There is a beauty regimen that I follow sometimes. And it doesn't really mean caking on the makeup. As much as I love playing with it, sometimes I like just evening out my skin tone, tossing on some eyeliner and mascara and calling it a day. And those are usually my prettier days. I love me in jeans/ tee shirts and a ponytail. That is the classic Annel look. Don't forget the ultra straight side bangs and glasses. Mhmm. Now, I'm gonna go ahead and say that ever since I was diagnosed with depression, I can't seem to get out of my funk. I have noticed it has gotten progressively worse. My funk part, I think I'm doing pretty okay with the being depressed part. There is very little that I am sad about right now, and for the most part it's all stuff that can be fixed. So I haven't payed attention to it.

What I'm talking about is spending all my days at home because I'm still jobless, but I have fallen in a rut. And it's not even a good one. I have started living life as if it were "just another day" that I know for sure is going to be uneventful and just like the previous one. It has become: Get up, sometimes take L to school (sometimes I don't), fire up my laptop, probably message Cal, go pee, brush my teefers, wash my face, crawl back in bed. Around 10ish- 11ish I get hungry and make something to eat (brunch?), then I spend most of my day on the computer. Sometimes I relocate to the kitchen, living room, wherever... sometimes I don't. I do my usual job search, apply at a few places online, all while talking to my bestie. I get tired of that and eventually decide I better get dressed, so I jump in the shower/bath. 2 ish my brother comes home for lunch time and we hang out. Then the little one is off school so I walk over to meet up with her (sometimes I don't.) By the time she gets back, I have to whip up some sort of after school snack for her (sometimes her friends too) and I start cleaning and stuff. I always start in my room. It drives me crazy if my bed isn't made and the carpet isn't vacuumed. So I do that first, followed by dishes, making my sister take out the garbage, while I do the floors and plan for dinner. Sometime around 3, the twins come home from the sitter's house. My brother in law gets off work then, and they also get after school snack time. Also they make a mess over what I just cleaned. My mom gets home then too. Then either she or I take over dinner, then there are dishes. Homework is done and checked for any errors. By 10pm everyone is in bed, well except for me. I like to take a bath and unwind around that time. I also like to stay up late, until Cal goes to sleep and then some. Usual bedtime for me would be 2:30-3am. Wake up time next day: 7am. And it all starts all over.

So. It seems like a lot, but at the same time it really isn't. And it bothers me that I have conformed to this way of living. I have cabin fever. I want to go out, but can't because I don't have a car. I get an allowance from my mom just like my sister. I'm 23. I'm able bodied, and I like to say stable minded for the most part. I am a very hard worker, and enjoy work. And I still haven't gotten a job. As much as this bothers me, I also know that I am very uncomfortable with rejection, especially recently, and I have come to take it personal. I also feel like a giant burden at home. Because it's enabling me to be a couch potato and gaining even more weight.

Anyways. That's not what this is about. I can sit here and bitch about all my negatives all day. And day after day for the next month and a half. But I have learned something. Being negative to yourself isn't going to make you want to change something. Instead you only become sadder about it, angrier about it, but for sure you will feel powerless and let it defeat you. How do I know this? Because I haven't cut myself. I found there are more than one solutions to a problem.

Well tomorrow, if my health permits, I'm going to take the day to feel beautiful. I might do my toes and nails a fun bright color. I might put my face on and do my hair. I might even actually get dressed and put on a bra. More than anything I feel that I need to do this for myself. Because just like how I quit because I'm sore, I feel like I've quit on myself. And it isn't fair to me. We only get one life, one role to play, one character. So, we have to do the best with what we have. Doesn't mean we have to be ugly people. In fact, it means we have to try and disprove that. For some it takes a rigorous gym regime. For others it means caking on the makeup. For me, it's being happy. I haven't been happy because I keep focusing on all the bad. And I forget about all the good. I think we all tend to do that. We are our own worst enemies. We put ourselves down more often and harsher than what everyone else does. Think about it.

For the most part, you are the lead character in your life. You want to make yourself happy, you want to be the best, have the best, wear the best, play the best. All that. Now, leave yourself for a little bit. See all those around you? Every single person on the planet has that same idea of themselves. You are just a minor character in their lives. You might become a strong supporting character, but still just a character. Not the star of the story. When this was explained to me, I started understanding that people don't care too much about me and what I do/ don't do with my life, because they are all focused on themselves. So, don't stress wondering what all the others are thinking about you... usually they aren't. I have a phobia of eating in large cafeterias by myself. I always feel like people are just staring at me and I feel completely naked and vulnerable. My 9th grade year, I would literally have panic attacks about this. So one day, I decided to do something about it. I scanned the lunch room for the lonely kids, and decided to make friends. Because I'm sure they were just as insecure as I was. Sometimes it was awkward and we were basically just sharing a table. Sometimes we would engage in conversations and feel a little normal. This takes a lot of hard work, meeting new people. It's fucking scary. I still haven't gotten over this phobia. I'm 23.

Basically I decided I'm not gonna be so hard on myself. I don't have anyone to impress, other than myself. And really I'm the one who gets to decide at the end of the day, if I felt beautiful or not that day. Tomorrow I'm gonna put in some effort to it. Maybe I'll like it so much, this feeling beautiful, that I'll try and do it the next day and the next. Happiness is usually addicting. So are happy pills, but I chose not to take them. Because I had happy real happy pills in my life. I ended up being better off without them. And part of me has learned to finally just stop fighting it. My happiness, I mean. Maybe me wearing my heart on my sleeve is a good thing. [Random AF side note by me: I decided I want a heart tattoo on my arm, where my sleeve is. I think I need one, so people get to see it a little more clearly. Think of it as a warning sign. And at the same time, I feel proud of actually having it hang out there. So, possible tattoo on my left upper arm. The end] There's nothing I can do about that, so I guess I gotta learn to love it. Just like I have learned to love my abnormally small hands and feet, and my loud trilling laugh, and even my hairy lower back (in all fairness, it's really light and thin, it just bothers me.) Anyways.

So. I think boys can be beautiful too, even if they don't feel it. Mainly because it isn't manly to feel beautiful. But I think it's important. People perceive you by mirroring how you see yourself. I have been told confidence is a major plus. I don't have a lot of it. But I can fake it till I make it. So try to make it a thing. Make yourself.

Important lyrics to live by:


If you let them make you, they'll make you paper mache
At a distance you're strong, until the wind comes
Then you crumble and blow away
If you let them fuck you, there will be no fore-play
Rest assured, they'll screw you complete
Til your ass is blue and gray
You should make amends with you
If only for better health, better health
But if you really want to live
Why not try, and make yourself

I love ya'll <3

Taylor Fucking Swift

This is hillarious <3

Pictures I took :)

Oroville park sunset, Oroville California

A Cave! Near Roosevelt Lake, AZ

Freeway 8 sunset, Somewhere between Gila Bend and Maricopa City, AZ

Another Shot of that Freeway 8 sunset. 

Rainy day in Mesa, right outside our house

On the way home from Mexico

9/11

I am attempting to write this through full on sobs. 11 years ago, I remember my very pregnant mom (8 months) rushing us to eat our breakfast and get dressed before we missed the bus to school. I remember there were no morning cartoons, just the news on every channel. Even Cartoon Network. Well that's annoying, my 12 year old brain thought. I was oblivious to what was going on, even though they were showing footage of the attacks on every channel. I remember one image vividly. The guy with the long hair, jumping from the burning building, to his sure death. It gives me chills as well as haunts me still today. God rest his soul. God rest all their souls. 

This was my first day of 7th grade at Taylor Jr. High. Our family had just moved here. So it wasn't only hectic, it was very confusing. I do remember finally getting to class, and my teacher was in tears. I didn't understand, so I quietly went and sat in an empty seat next to a boy who was praying (It was Nino.) I wasn't sure what was going on. Suddenly the TV was turned on by Mrs. Barker, and I finally saw why everyone was so somber. I saw a giant airplane just barreling into a building. Flames, lots of smoke, then a second plane going straight for the second building. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I remember, I too just broke down and started crying. My heart instantly broke for all those people. 

I remember being angry, feeling helpless, being terrified and just wanting to go home to be with my family. I didn't know anyone in this classroom, and yet I shared a very intimate moment with them all. I remember praying. I was still a little girl.  11 years later, I still remember that day very vividly. Every single person has a different story of where they were that day. I am more and more grateful to the people in the military, as well as their families, who have to accept that they have to go. I  have many who are dear to me that are part of the armed forces. I especially thank them greatly for their selfless service. My prayers are always with you, even if we no longer see eye to eye. You still have all my respect. Tattooed or not. <3 

Today is now known as Patriot Day. There is a new building where the twin towers. We observe this day, as a remembrance to those who lost their lives that day, as well as celebrate the lives of those willing to lay theirs down for us. CAUTION: I can't get through listening to any one of these songs without just tearing up. Watching these videos, is like picking at a scab. At the same time it reminds me of why I am so grateful for the men and women who serve our country.

Ghost stories

So...

Rainy days!

I know it's just the beginning of September and unlike other places, my dreams of fall weather, autumn leaves and rainy days aren't real in Arizona, but a girl can dream, right? It was rainy earlier, if that counts for anything. Anyways, for some reason I am really excited for Halloween this year, I think partly because I hadn't really celebrated it in 6 years or so. I know... sue me. But I also have some kick ass ideas for a costume, and found some confidence hidden in the closet, (Corsets anyone?) so who knows.

Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"

Aside from that, I am really looking forward to a few things, like the up coming, cooler weather, where I can wear boots and jeans and hoodies. Who am I kidding? I wear jeans year round! But seriously, I love jeans and hoodies and T-shirts! And I love colder weather. And the color ORANGE. And possibly home made apple cider coming soon. So I'm excited. I almost want to spend a weekend up in Flagstaff or Payson or something (anywhere in Northern-ish Arizona) and just be cold. Idk maybe find somewhere with a fireplace and stuff. I also am looking forward to getting my orange "fall" quilt out of my storage bins, and spreading it on my bed. Because it is made of warms!

Candy Corn Candle holders

I also want to decorate everything in orange and browns and reds and golds. And get some cinnamon, apples, and pumpkin smells going. And I want to say that I'll be in my own place by Thanksgiving, but that is wishful thinking. So we'll wait and see, sometimes wishes do come true. Well I am hoping to create my own Thanksgiving memories. Maybe forget the old ones. I will admit this brings a bit of pain to me. The holidays do. There's nothing I can do to change that, and I have to learn to let some ghosts from my past, disappear. All those I would've, should've, could've's that didn't happen, and aren't going to happen need to just get out of my life. I'm a small person, and I'm only willing to carry so much luggage, per se.

Da Bears

Also, I have decided to possibly switch football teams. Why? Also heartache. Maybe it's time I branch out on my own here. As much as I love Troy Polamalu and his sweet skills, I'm now on the hunt. This is kind of a difficult thing for me to do, since I feel so uneducated about all the other teams. Natural reaction when you're a Steelers fan ~> all the other teams suck. So for now I am adopting da Bears. Because, again... I love orange. And they are a respectable team haha. So, we'll see how this one unfolds, feels like it's gonna be a lame football season for me this year. Oh well.

Punkin Patch!!

I have been feeling pretty crafty recently and totally want to do some fun Halloween stuff. Maybe get a hay bale and make a scarecrow for fun. :) And I can't wait to carve a pumpkin (and bake pumpkin seeds). Okay, one of the few activities I have kept up with is going to the pumpkin patch. Vertuccio Farms maybe, for the corn maze and pumpkin pickin's. Hahah so true story: I can't pronounce pumpkin. And I also suck at spelling it. I feel that it should be punkin. No extra "P" in there, or an "M." Hahah think Punk-in. yay for compound words.

Squirrel!!!

But candied apples, hot chocolate, raking leaves (our tree isn't a fun oak tree, it's just an ugly AZ tree) and the occasional ghost story sounds like fun. I can honestly say I am pretty excited for autumn. At least the weather will be decent enough to go on more outdoor activities, like the park and stuff. Pick up some pine cones, you know, fun stuff. So we shall see! I am going to try and make it one of the best falls I've had, and I am going to have to learn to enjoy things. That's where I'm at. So, yeah. I'm glad I got that off my chest. <3

Mhmmm

Boys and Girls Together
by Neil Gaiman

Boys don't want to be princes.
Boys want to be shepherds who slay dragons,
maybe someone gives you half a kingdom and a princess,
but that's just what comes of being a shepherd boy
and slaying a dragon. Or a giant. And you don't really
even have to be a shepherd. Just not a prince.
In stories, even princes don't want to be princes,
disguising themselves as beggars or as shepherd boys,
leaving the kingdom for another kingdom,
princehood only of use once the ogre's dead, the tasks are done,
and the reluctant king, her father, needing to be convinced.

Boys do not dream of princesses who will come for them.
Boys would prefer not to be princes,
and many boys would happily kiss the village girls,
out on the sheep-moors, of an evening,
over the princess, if she didn't come with the territory.

Princesses sometimes disguise themselves as well,
to escape the kings' advances, make themselves ugly,
soot and cinders and donkey girls,
with only their dead mothers' ghosts to aid them,
a voice from a dried tree or from a pumpkin patch.
And then they undisguise, when their time is upon them,
gleam and shine in all their finery. Being princesses.
Girls are secretly princesses.

None of them know that one day, in their turn,
Boys and girls will find themselves become bad kings
or wicked stepmothers,
aged woodcutters, ancient shepherds, mad crones and wise-women,
to stand in shadows, see with cunning eyes:
The girl, still waiting calmly for her prince.
The boy, lost in the night, out on the moors.


I love this poem. I don't want a prince. I don't want someone whom I have to constantly try to impress, and try to compete with. I want the simple shepherd boy, the one with a better story and a bigger heart. One who will never think twice of putting me before him. I would gladly do the same. Because I am one of the village girls. Plain, down to earth and not spectacular, but with a good laugh. At least I will do my best not to become a wicked stepmother or a mad crone. <3