What do you do when you feel like you are the only one that is fighting for something? What about when the other side refuses to fight at all? It's not surrender. It's a complete lack of interest. Do you continue to fight when you are pretty positive that the other side could care less?
Is it still worth it if they don't care? How about when they just sit over there and taunt you. Throw your own insecurities in your face and laugh? Belittle you and continue to hurt you?
Are we no longer on the same side?
Does any shred of what I'm fighting for even still exist?
Or should I just give up?
I don't have my laptop, and it is affecting my blogging! My writing, period! There is something to be said for being able to snuggle up into the corner of the couch, with a cup of whatever I'm drinking next to me, a blankie on my feet, and my laptop portable with all of my little twisting and tossing and turning. It just goes along with the flow.
This computer is loud. The positioning of the keyboard and mouse hurt my wrists and neck, and the chair is horribly uncomfortable.
Anyway, I thought I should pop in and write something, because, well, I'm suppose to.
My laptop is in the techy hospital. The screen kept turning blue on me. No- not the blue screen of death, which I discovered exists when I was trying to explain to the gal at the GeekSquad what was happening. I said, "I keep getting a blue screen." Which is exactly what happens. But I guess in the tech language, that refers to a horrible blue screen of death. I hear it's pretty grotesque.
Mine is not that.
The graphics just turn blue while I'm using it. I can still "use" it, it just hurts my eyes and pisses me off, since the thing is barely even 2 months old! Thank goodness for warranties!
So, I took it in. I figured it would be a couple of hours, maybe overnight. That was Tuesday. It is now Thursday evening. The service paperwork we received on it gives a estimated completion time of the 29th. That's 7 more days away!! *cry*
My next big purchase very well might be a new desktop.
1. Do you often lose sleep worrying about work?
I guess that depends on what exactly is considered "worrying about work". I sometimes worry about special projects I have to do, such as the training sessions I'm suppose to put together over the next couple of months. Teaching / training is not in my comfort zone, so I am having a hard time with that one. But usually, my concerns over work- the stuff that makes me lose sleep- is the desire to not be working, the question as to whether I'll ever be able to stay-at-home while my kids are still living at home.
2. When you're with friends, do you find yourself talking about work?
Sometimes. We all talk about work. Most of us work a lot with the public, so we often have stupid, silly or scary stories about our dealings with them. I don't necessarily view talking about work as a negative. Perhaps they more meant do I find myself complaining about work, which I don't do very often.
3. Before you've finished one project, are you already thinking about the next one?
I have about 30 projects that I am wanting to work on, or started to work on, or bought all the stuff to start working on- and none of them are done. What does that tell ya?
4. Do you put your personal life "on hold" in order to tend to business?
Only if it's stuff specifically for me. I have a hard time doing stuff just for me. Yoga is the closest I have to being selfish for the sake of me.
5. Are you jealous of other people's achievements?
Yep.
6. When you've achieved a goal or obtained something you've worked hard for, do you take the time to enjoy the accomplishment?
I will try, but- as mentioned in my previous post- I will immediately start tearing myself down, focusing more on what I have not done instead of what I have.
7. Are you too busy to cultivate a hobby?
I try to make time for my hobbies, but most of the time I just wind up feeling like a failure at them, so I give up.
8. Do you often work through lunch?
Hell no. I need to eat!
9. Does success mean being the first to embrace the latest trend, owning the latest model car or gadget, or having more than your neighbors?
No, not necessarily., though it would be nice to at least be on par...
10. Do you fear that everything you've worked for will be lost if you don't give it your constant attention?
I don't really feel like I've achieved anything, so I don't really have it to lose. Unless you mean relationships. If that is the case, then yes. I am constantly in concern of my relationships breaking down, or ending. Whether it be relationships with my boyfriend, children, friends or family.
So, the idea for this quiz is that, if you answer "yes" to more than half of these questions, that you don't spend enough time thinking about what will make you truly happy. Since I think there is really only one that I answered no to, I may be in trouble.
Do I know what would make me truly happy? No. Not even a little. According to this, I need to locate my inner peace. No duh.
So, I am suppose to make a list of all of the activities that give me a sense of peace. Right down to the simplest of activities. Then I am to make it a priority to schedule a couple of these activities into my schedule.
Peace-giving Activities:
1. Playing with my kids.
2. Digging for hidden treasures on the beach.
3. Lying on a grassy field watching clouds.
4. Sunbathing (in the sun, which is virtually non-existent here!)
5. Hiking through the woods.
6. Gardening.
7. Reading.
8. Shopping the thrift stores.
9. Lunch / dinner with friends.
10. Having a clean house.
11. Turning the radio up loud and singing along just as loud.
12. Dancing.
13. Walking on the treadmill.
14. The smell of the air after it rains.
15. Splashing in puddles.
16. Yoga.
17. Candlelight (esp. if they are scented)
18. Taking pictures.
19. Writing (when it flows).
20. The smell of clean sheets.
As part of my “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff” workbook, I took the “Make Peace with Imperfection” quiz. After 30 questions analyzing how picky I am, I got the outcome:
“You’re fairly easygoing.”
Ok.
What it didn’t do was break down where my perceived imperfections are. So I looked for myself. Most all of my “10” answers (the bad ones) were dealing with my perceptions of myself.
Duh.
I usually see others and see all of their accomplishments. I envy the way they live, speak, dress, look, parent, etc... I can’t see those things in myself. When I do happen across something good, it is short lived. I usually rip it apart within moments.
I think some part of me doesn’t think I deserve to be happy. I know that part of me thinks that. I feel it rear its head every time I honestly smile. Whenever I am at a point where I am honestly happy, even for a moment, it shows up to knock me down a few rungs. To make me question what it is that I’ve done to think that I should be happy. It shows me all those failures, everything that I haven’t done yet.
So yeah… in viewing others, I am very easygoing. But when it comes to me, I am a horrible critic and enemy. I am working towards changing this. It is hard, though.
Father's Day is hard for me. It is a day that comes once a year to remind me that my dad gave up on me. He turned his back on me at the point in my life when I needed my father the most. He chose his alcohol and his girlfriend instead of his own children. He chose to embrace her children, her ideals, her future, instead of ours.
I have given up on any type of reconciliation with my dad. I know it will never happen. The last time I saw him, he sat- bouncing my three-year old son on his lap- and proceeded to tell my husband what a horrible, worthless child I was. I never tried again. He is obviously oblivious to his role in the way I was. He takes absolutely no responsibility for the pain, anger, hurt and betrayal I felt from him. For the way he would talk me down instead of trying to talk me up. For pointing out my weaknesses instead of my strengths. For telling me I would wind up being nothing, instead of telling me I could be whatever I wanted.
He use to do all those things. He use to be the greatest dad in the world. I loved the crap out of him. He did his best for us. That all changed when he met his now-wife. I had nothing against him having girlfriends. I had nothing against this one being black. I could care less. I liked him having girlfriends. I liked him having a life. But this one.. from the moment she walked through the doors, it was like a whirl of ice followed her. She looked down on all of us. None of us were worthwhile. She disagreed with my dad's parenting style, although we were all acing all of our classes, and had never once been in trouble with the law. Her children, however, we all either dealing drugs, in jail, or teenage mothers. But, her parenting style was much more effective and appropriate?
No.. I didn't like her. And she made it very clear that she hated me. Was it because of how much I reminded my dad of my mom? Was I "competition"? I don't know. I do know that one of her sons tried to pimp me out to his friends, to the point where they would come over- money in hand. I was twelve. Another constantly touched me inappropriately, and yet another tried to rape me more than once. I was lucky enough to always have had someone show up to interrupt him before it actually happened. Then he would laugh and tell them he was just kidding. He wasn't kidding. But, my dad didn't believe me. He told me I was lying- making it up to cause problems. Then he threw me out of the house.
I don't know what happened to him. I don't know how, in one summer, she warped his head so completely. She turned him into a completely different person, and he let her. Well, I guess they are happy now. They have their property out where ever, and he has her children, and grandchildren, to raise. And I am left sitting here, wondering where my real dad went. Where the guy I used to love more than the earth and skies and everything beyond went. The guy who holds the little girl so tenderly... why did he let go?
Sometimes no words speak everything you need to know.
I've been trying to destress myself lately. I've been having a really hard time letting things go and focusing on the positives. At a previous trip to Barnes and Noble, I bought a "Don't Stress the Small Stuff" workbook. There is a quiz inside to gauge how much we focus on stressors. I got the "lowest" stress score. The same thing happened on another "stess" quiz I took.
This amazes and scares me at the same time.
It amazes me, because I absolutely cannot get myself to relax, or get my mind to shut off. I also don't feel like I really have a good outlet for venting a lot of this stuff. It's too personal, and I don't want to just make things worse. So, all this crap bottles up inside of me. Unfortunately, this bottle isn't very strong, and leaks spring up all the time. Usually I can tape it over, or maybe use a little clear nail polish to fill them in. But, it's not going to hold forever.
It scares me, because if I'm at the "You rarely stess the small stuff" category, then I cannot even fathom what those in the "You let the small stuff get to you too often" go through.
I don't pretend to have huge issues. I know people who have serious illnesses in their family life. I know of homeless people, abused people, people who lose loved ones, etc... and I am not one of those people. I know that I should be more thankful for the things I do have, and I do try. I'm just not very good at it. This just leads me deeper into that stress- that depression- because it makes me feel like a horrible person that I cannot. I know I need to make changes- in myself, in my lifestyle. Things that might help me find that peace that I want so badly. It is hard to know what changes are a step in the right direction, and what will lead me deeper down. It's hard to balance what I want with what is finacially feasible.
A week or so ago, I began a bucket list to help me focus on the "big" things I want. However, for this quest, I think I need to be a bit more focused; more detailed. Get right into the nitty gritty of every aspect of my life and my being, and dig into it. Find what I really want, and what I think I really need, and what I think will help get me there.
My daughter had to do a writing assignment detailing her life from birth to present. She sat asking me about her past, what we did, special memories, etc... And I couldn't remember anything. The more I sat and watched her hopeful expression the more like an asshole I felt. Here she was wanting all those cool moments in time, and there was nothing for me to express.
Well, nothing positive. There were plenty of "bad" memories. But no "good" ones. No vacations, no special occasions, and anything else that happened, I couldn't remember. It makes me feel absolutely horrible.
I want to change that, but I just can't afford it. And now, I have to weigh that with my own desires. I really, REALLY want to be a stay-at-home mom. I always have. This whole working thing was suppose to be temporary. But, it's not looking like it's going to end anytime soon, and that's screwing with my mental health. However, if I ever want to be able to take my kids on an actual vacation, I can't stop working. I have no idea when Dustin is going to go get a job, and unemployment isn't going to last forever, so I have to make sure I have some kind of stable income coming in.
I want to give my kids those special memories. I want them to be able to point to specific moments and saw "That was amazing!".
I'm starting to think that this condition I put upon myself to write every day may have been a mistake. Well, I know it's not a mistake, but it has been proving to be much more frustrating than I had anticipated. I envisioned myself picking up all sorts of random ideas or topics to write about, but when I go to do the deed, my mind is blank. I am sitting in one of those old school desks- the type that have the table that lifts, and is attached to the chair. It's hard and uncomfortable and my tailbone hurts. I stare at that stupid black chalkboard in front of me, but nothing is on it. I can see the powdery white of words long past, erased over and over, but nothing is there now. I do not even see any chalk on the rim. Just the dusty old eraser.
(*Side note: I tried like hell to find a picture to convey what I just wrote, and I could not for the life of me find something that fit... Perhaps an idea for a certain photographer I know.... provided we can find an old desk and chalkboard...)
Grrrr...
I still have not bought my dream journal, and I think I'm about to throttle myself. Dreams are always an easy one to bounce off of. If nothing else, I can use them to write.. just write my dream in as much detail as I can remember. They are fascinating sometimes, and it distresses me to no end that I cannot remember them. Sweet, beautiful butterflies in my broken net. Some mending needs to be done. I keep saying I need to get over my fear of my sewing machine.
I've been thinking a lot about birds lately. How they fly, so free. It's cliche, but I cannot help it. It tugs at my heart, and I've had to turn away lest cry inside (and maybe outside). Then there is the raven that was tearing up the chicken bone left wire-bound to the sign post at the marina.... that was fascinating and disturbing at the same time. Sometimes I identify with that one, too... not necessarily with the food aspect, but with the fierceness of desire, and sense of entitlement, I guess.
Water captures my attention just as the birds do. So, when I sit down at the marina dock, I am pretty much lost in thought- my focus crashing with the waves or flying with the seagulls... They fill me with a deep sense of longing... as if there is something I have lost right there within my grasp.. Sometimes it's with that sense of freedom; a break from responsibilities, duties, expectations.
Where oh where has this blog gone?
I wanted to watch a movie about dragons, but had to write instead. Dang nabbit.
I'm done.
I'm suppose to be writing every day, and lately I've been having a severe lack of ideas. I think it's because I wait until so late to start thinking about it, so instead of being able to focus on an actual topic, I'm thinking more about still having to take a shower, get leftovers put away, dishes washed, and being able to go to bed in a timely manner ( I heart
I try to have people give me ideas, but more often than not they wind up being way too involved in storyline or thought, and don't fit the need that I need them for. Sometimes something strikes the right chord in me, and I can pull it off to an acceptable note (like the turtle and penguin story I wrote for Dustin). Other times, it just fills my stomach with dread trying to come up with the scenarios surrounding it. However, I do keep them all filed away in a little box in my head (or document on my computer) for later use, because I never know when suddenly that idea will work!
The other day I got a part of my actual story I'm working on written, and it's even pretty much satisfactory. For now anyway. But I don't read it and hate it, like some other parts. I'm trying not to focus on that at this point though. The goal is to get the story written down, and then I can go back and beef it up. Switch stuff around. Whatever. My biggest concern with this, however, is that some of my goings over have contributed to major changes in story line, and if I have already written it, then it's huge rewrites. I am viewing it as just more experience, though. That if I hadn't written what I changed, then maybe I never would have thought of the change to begin with. Whatever keeps me going, I guess.
Like dreams of making it big! Authors are one of those great areas where you can be super rich and have your name be famous, without everyone really knowing what you look like. So I can still go out to eat, go to a movie, shopping, whatever.
Dreams... gotta love them.
Speaking of which, I really do need to go buy myself a notebook and pen to keep by my bed to record my dreams in. Some great ideas have come from my dreams. Well, pretty much every honest story I've started writing (or have ambition for) have come from dreams. In creative writing class in high school, my best stuff came from dreams. So, I need to be better about keeping track of them. The best part is- the more I keep track of them, the more vivid they become. And the easier to remember all those little details.
Ok, well that's my post for today. Hey, at least I came here and wrote something, eh?
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