Triskaidekaphobia

I drove! Woot!

2011-12-21T12:42:00.000-06:00

I don't know what possessed me to schedule a two hour driving session with my driver's ed instructor the day after I came home from college for the semester. I'd been out of state. I had not driven for four months. Driving is difficult and TERRIFYING.

But I did it.

And it wasn't that bad actually!

I managed the whole two hours, but towards the end I started needing reminders because my brain was shutting down.

But I drove across the Route 40 bridge AND the dam! The tiny car was a lot easier to drive than my mother's hulking truck. For which I am very grateful. I could stay in the lane and make good turns and not rear-end people! :3

Tomorrow I have another two hours with her.

She is going to teach me to parallel park.

I'm pretty sure I can manage it in her tiny car.

The big hulking awkward-as-polyps truck? Hah. Not so much. That'll require much more practice. But if I can drive that truck, I can drive ANYTHING. And that is my goal!

Not a Happy Update

2011-12-17T23:34:00.000-06:00

I'm far from okay right now.

I've been descending into a state of constant near-panic and depression over the past weeks. I thought I was pulling out of it, but apparently I was wrong. I have not gone outside in three days. I have had no meaningful human interaction in two. My insomnia is getting bad because I'm too scared to sleep.

My person is dealing with some really major depression right now. I feel like a terrible girlfriend because I'm not there to hold him and tell him he'll be alright. I feel even more terrible because my own current crisis is keeping me from being strong for him in the ways I know I could, and ought to be.

It breaks my heart to know he's going through this and I can't be there by his side. It breaks my heart to know that I'm leaving this city and four days later he'll be arriving here. It crushes me to know that neither of us can afford travel to see each other, and we have no idea when we'll get to see each other again.

He needs someone to hold him while he cries. I need someone to hold me while I panic. He needs someone to hold his hand and give him strength. I need someone to hold my hand and give me courage. We could do that for each other, even while we're falling apart, if only we could actually be together.

I'm worried for him and terrified for me, and I can't harking do anything.

I am very much not okay right now.

A Portrait of Personal Strength (in words, not paint)

2011-12-07T20:17:00.001-06:00

There’s something very important about me that I want to share.

Mostly i want to share it because I’ve realized just how important it is.

I firmly believe that there is a trait or quality in everyone in which lies most of their strength. For some people, it is patience. For others, it is courage, or self-preservation, or compassion, or even things like jealousy and pride. This “strongest trait” isn’t necessarily static. I’m sure it can change, and probably does change, for lots of people, throughout their lives and depending on their circumstances and reactions to those circumstances. (Mine just doesn’t change, for obvious reasons about to be revealed.)

There’s no real moral judgement on the traits until they are used. It’s all about how you use them that reflects if they’re good or bad.

And I’ve come to realize this because my strongest trait is my sheer obstinacy. I am the most stubborn person I know. I have lived a life of taking my stance and absolutely refusing to budge, even if it was to my detriment.

But this obstinacy has done so much good for me. Far more good than bad.

It kept me from suicide when I was younger and much more depressed than i am nowadays.

It got me to college. Got me to Oxford. Got me in a place where I could make true friends and learn what happiness was.

It’s helping me stop self-harming when I get completely overwhelmed by the emotional wreckage that is the innermost me.

It taught me that there’s always a way, and even though I’ve always got to take the hard way, that’s fine. There’s more a sense of accomplishment if you succeed going the more difficult route anyway. The lessons you learn stick with you better.

It’s made me determined to take the best possible care of myself, because yes, I’ve got a chronic illness, but medication will only mask the symptoms, not fight the as yet unknown cause, and so I don’t need them.

It’s made me strong enough to realize that yes, I can get through whatever life throws at me without compromising my values or my morality.

I don’t give up without a fight. A long fight. A struggle that can drag on, and on, and on, tear me down until I’ve used up all my resources, all my plans, all my spoons. And I learn through that. i grow through it. I learn what’s important, and I can live a life without regrets.

I am obstinate, often to a fault. But it’s saved my life. It’s shown me how strong I really am, and how strong I can be. I’ve become a better person, and I’m living better than I ever thought was possible. And I’m going to change the world.

I’ve been in a bad place recently because, in my stubborn quest for self-care, I’ve decided I’m ready to face my life-long anxiety and conquer it. Or learn to live with it. (That depends entirely upon the cause of the anxiety. If I let it in, I am going to get it out again.) And that’s hard. And terrifying. And frustrating, largely because there are severe communication difficulties between my counselor and I. But I’m trying and she’s trying, and that’s what matters.

I might have an anxiety disorder. I might not. Determining that point is trying. Especially since it almost constantly feels like something (the fear?) is behind me. It’s not just a paranoid feeling, like a fleeting, worrisome thought. It’s a visceral, spine-tingling, muscles tightening, breath hitching, heart racing, eyes-on-my-back feeling. But when I turn around to confront it, physically or in my mind, nothing is there.

It’s still behind me.

I can’t get away.

And that’s terrifying. I had a complete breakdown at my counseling session yesterday because of it.

That’s when my counselor asked me to reconsider medication.

I will admit, I felt like she was giving up on me.

And I couldn’t fully explain the root of my resistance to the idea of taking something for my anxiety. I could tell she was frustrated.

But I’ve got it in words now.

Ignoring my tendency to horrible side-effects, my doubts as to if it’ll work if my anxiety is caused by something I let in and not an anxiety disorder, and every other excuse I have, valid or not, taking medication before I’ve crashed, burned, hit rock bottom and climbed back out, only to do it a million times again…

To give in and change my mind before I’ve reached the very limit of my desperation…

That would be betraying myself. It would be undermining the obstinacy from which I draw my strength. I’d be shattering my own foundations.

And that’d be fine, if I was okay with rebuilding on a new foundation.

Except I’m not.

Cause I’m obstinate.

I like my foundation.

I am going to keep it.

So that’s me. Obstinate to a fault, but also obstinate to greater heights of determination and personal strength. I’ve finally figured that out, and it’s really liberating and empowering to finally be able to grasp that.

Everyone’s got their foundation, the place where their strength lies. And mine just so happens to be in my obstinacy. And I am completely okay with this.

Reading De Beauvoir

2011-10-31T22:42:00.000-05:00

The Second Sex by De Beauvoir is a really interesting and thought-provoking book and I think everyone should read it.

I've been reading it for Social Sciences 3. And it's made me realize some things.

For one, the reason I had such an awful childhood is because I was raised in the tradition handed down from the time of woman as property, and thus I had to be trained to be a good wife for my future husband. I needed to be polite, tidy, organized, agreeable, and, well, feminine.

I wanted to climb trees and wrassle dogs, adventure through swamps and forests and valued (still do) being honest with people over being polite, because honesty means more in the end. I was a tomboy. I was a slob. Still am, really. I hate wearing skirts and dresses, jewelry is rare (and must be symbolic if I'm going to choose and wear it), I'd break my ankle if I wore heels, and just generally I wasn't going to live my life catering to other people's expectations. If I was expected to marry and be a good wife, I'd be a rowdy old maid, and that was that.

I've grown into myself and mellowed out a bit, but reading De Beauvoir has made me realize that in growing up and breaking free of the mindset of what I ought to do, I've totally broken myself (mostly) free of the trapping of the patriarchy. Which is awesome. I hate the patriarchy. (I'm sure it'd be just as awful if it were a matriarchy. I'm not a feminist. I'm not a radical. I'm just a humanist.)

And it's made me think about my future. It's up to me to be alert and make sure I don't perpetuate the traditions in my culture which come from the idea of woman as property.

So of course that makes me think about marriage.

And then I have to finally acknowledge something I've known all my life:

If I ever get married, I'm not changing my name. I refuse to be defined as "the wife of so-and-so." The thoughts and feelings aren't very well put into words at the moment, so you'll have to forgive me if this is rough and hard to comprehend, but. . . gah! I am not anyone's property. People are not property. We should not perpetuate legal or social institutions which reek of anyone belonging to or being defined by anyone else. No one is solely Object. Everyone is Subject to themselves. That's how it is, darnit.

It's late, past my bedtime, and I'm stumbling over words now. I think it's time to end this brainsplosion of ranty existentialist frustrations with the world.

Ohai

2011-09-19T04:12:00.001-05:00

S'been a while since I posted here. Sorry about that, if anyone was wondering. The last few weeks have been the universe imploding around me, but things seem to have worked out.

This thing, however, seems to suit everything in general:

Yup. That's me and my life, right there. I'm trying to make the best of it.

I'm horrendously behind on everything, but getting caught up.

I'm doing slightly better than expected health-wise, so yay!

I've been busking! It's been fun. Not very profitable, but fun.

I have also been spending time with my favorite people. It makes me happy, even though it means I'm getting less done.

I think I shall purchase a toaster. (Note to self: Discuss purchasing a toaster with parents.)

Oh yeah, and if I'm very lucky, I'll be going to grad school. Four years at Cambridge University to study to be an interpreter. On full ride scholarship. <3

I'd say more, but I'm not used to seeing four am and should probably attempt to return to sleep.

Be happy! I love you!

2011-07-30T20:40:00.000-05:00

I got out of the house today! There was a family reunion type thing at my aunt's house. Got to hang with my favorite cousin and his awesome girlfriend, chatted with my favorite aunt, and was generally social. I even got a piggyback ride!

Also spent the day writing down this amazing story I dreamed. Good day. I need more of these.

2011-07-25T20:53:00.000-05:00

I've been learning to drive.

And holy cow, I just got my first night driving lesson and my first inclement weather lesson. . . at the same time. That was scary. Also, tiny, narrow, gravel roads full of ditches and, and. . . eep?

But I did it! Yay!

Dinosaurs!

2011-07-24T14:10:00.000-05:00

I've spent the past week doing this:

The hardest and most time consuming part was pulling each individual strand of wastecloth out. I mean, yeesh. Also, I fail at backstitching, but I think I'm getting better at the cross stitch!

A Curious Conundrum

2011-07-22T20:14:00.000-05:00

I don't ever want kids, yet I've saved a box of my favorite childhood toys in case I ever have kids.

I don't understand myself.

Oh, slag, how I pointlessly adore you.

2011-07-19T09:44:00.000-05:00

In attempting to simplify my life and get rid of clutter, I am brought to a standstill by my slag collection.

It's so pretty.

I collected it myself.

I'm rather attached to it.

It's taking up space and gathering dust.

Um?

My Birthday Wish

2011-07-11T22:02:00.000-05:00

For the past three years, I've only wanted one thing for my birthday. This year, I get it. I get to spend my birthday with the man I love. I'm so happy I could cry.

Carnival!

2011-07-10T00:34:00.000-05:00

So today Michael and I went to the carnival!

We rode rides! The giant boat-swing is my favorite! We also rode the Himalaya, ferris wheel, bumper cars, carousel, and went down the giant slide three times.

We also played games! He won me a bear, won my mom a cow, and my dad a. . . purple zebra-striped donkey thing? (We have no idea what it is, but it's hilarious.

I also ended up bringing home three goldfish. Cue the panic as I worry about if they'll die like the last carnival goldfish I brought home did. I hope they'll be alright. Michael named them Yakko, Wakko and Dot. I love him for it. <3

The night was really, really fun. We don't get to go out often, living so far away, and I think we both needed this. I'm really, really happy. Happier than I've been in so long.

Down By The River. . .

2011-06-27T22:41:00.000-05:00

Michael is here! Hooray! He makes me happy, and apparently he's been happy to be here, so it's a win-win!

Yesterday we went down to the river with my youngest brother and my dad. It was great. I wanted to wade all the way across to the other shore, even though the rocks were slippery, some bits were actually surprisingly deep with one heck of a current, and I knew I was gonna be feeling it in the morning. (Spoiler: I did. Ow, ow, ow.)

Michael decided to come with! It was fun! Unfortunately, he had a bit more trouble with crossing from boulder-island to boulder-island, so we got halfway and decided to head back and eat lunch on the rocks we'd left our stuff on. I was totally going to try and convince my brother to come with me all the way to the other side after we ate, but everyone seemed a bit tuckered out, so we came back home instead.

And of course we all got sunburnt, because we forgot to take sunscreen. Speaking of which, I seem to have magically regained the ability to sunburn. Perhaps the sun is mad at me? We've been on such good terms for years. . .

Then I went on to help my mom do yard work in the evening and walked more than ten thousand steps (my goal this week is only five thousand a day), so by the time it was bedtime, I was, understandably, tuckered out.

Anyway, the river was so much fun, and I paid for it today. I miscounted my spoons yesterday (it was such a GREAT day! I felt almost completely well!) and ended up using up all of today's as well.

Waking up with all the muscles in one half of your body stiff and aching from overuse, your head hurting for God knows what reason, your shoulders screaming at you because of the sunburn, your eyes hurting for probably the same reason as your shoulders, your right hand seizing up just because it can, and knowing that you're caught deep in the trenches of fatigue. . . that tends to make any day interesting. It wasn't a bad day, and I'm actually doing better than I expected! See, this isn't a flare-up. It's just consequences of overdoing it. I can handle that. Though the second day after is usually worse. . . eep.

Also, this week will be fun. Read that sarcastically, please, as I have a mini rant about how stiff and sore and generally miserable I am going to be until I can have my showers hot again and soak in a hot epsom salt bath and CURSE YOU SUNBURN!

But, nevertheless, I'm happy. I'm fairly well, had a day that was only a 4 pain-wise, and got plenty of snuggle time with the best boyfriend ever. :)

30 things

2011-06-05T00:08:00.002-05:00

30 THINGS ABOUT MY INVISIBLE ILLNESS
1. The illness I live with is: Fibromyalgia

2. I was diagnosed with it in the year: 2010

3. But I had symptoms since: — | childhood. I used to think the way I felt was normal, that everyone went through life constantly in some amount of pain.

4. The biggest adjustment I’ve had to make is: not pushing myself beyond my limits to see how far I can go, and accepting that I can't do everything I've always wanted to do. Giving up dreams is hard.

5. Most people assume: I'm more capable than I am, both physically and cognitively. Sometimes they assume I'm just trying to get out of doing things and making excuses. That always hurts.

6. The hardest part about mornings are: getting myself to get started on what needs to get done, despite knowing I'll never finish it all before I run out of energy.

7. My favorite medical TV show is: House. Because House. And also because it wasn't lupus. (Thank God.)

8. A gadget I couldn’t live without is: my wireless mouse for my laptop. It saves my wrist so much pain.

9. The hardest part about nights is: getting to sleep and keeping the creeping thoughts that are the forerunners of a bout of depression at bay. At night, when I'm exhausted and alone, is when I'm most emotionally vulnerable to my own fears, doubts, and frustrations.

10. Each day I take a minimum of: as many breaths as I need, and as many steps as it takes to get me where I need to be. (No pills for me. Sensitivities have made me far too wary of medications.)

11. Regarding alternative treatments I: attempt to practice tai chi, despite the impossibility of finding lessons. Chamomile tea helps my focus and anxieties. The Republic of Tea's Chamomile Lemon tea helps me sleep with its combination of valerian, skullcap, chamomile, lemon balm and lavender. Echinacea tea helps a bit with the pain. Epsom salt baths are wonderful too. Also, rice socks are magic.

12. If I had to choose between an invisible illness or visible I would choose: I'd choose visible, simply because people would then see the real me, instead of seeing someone who is lazy or flaky. I am strong and stubborn and determined, yet so few ever recognize that.

13. Regarding working and career: I will be lucky to ever get a job, since I can't reliably do anything. If my body isn't screaming at me in pain, my cognitive abilities are sub-par and I become, on the whole, extremely unreliable.

14. People would be surprised to know: that I don't actually consider myself ill. I'm not contagious, I'm not infected with anything, and it's completely non-degenerative. My brain just does weird things, especially when it comes to interpreting pain signals. That doesn't make me ill, just occasionally unwell.

15. The hardest thing to accept about my new reality has been: the fact that my father believes nothing is wrong with me, won't listen to me when I try to talk to him about my condition, and puts finances above my well-being. All this despite my mother also having fibromyalgia. That, and the fact that apparently my brain is shrinking. Um.

16. Something I never thought I could do with my illness that I did was: . . . ask me again in five years. I'm still in the "I can't do ANYTHING anymore" stage.

17. The commercials about my illness: make me want to punch someone. Fibromyalgia is not that simple, there is no "one size fits all" treatment, and I can't take any gorram medication!

18. Something I really miss doing since I was diagnosed is: Everything. Tennis, kayaking, hiking in the mountains, doing more farm work, reading for pleasure, going on insanely long spontaneous walks, enjoying the snow, watching the stars, making things, being able to be the one who fixed everything, and just being me, generally. Right now I'm just caged up inside a body that doesn't want to do what it's supposed to.

19. It was really hard to have to give up: chocolate. I've been dreaming of it.

20. A new hobby I have taken up since my diagnosis is: Playing my recorder every day. It's relaxing, and stimulates my brain, and only sometimes hurts my hands.

21. If I could have one day of feeling normal again I would: If by normal, you mean "less awful," I would totally go larping. Like, the super active, combat-heavy kind. I want to run around hitting people with foam swords, and not pay dearly for doing so.

22. My illness has taught me: How to take better care of myself, and that I have to tend to me before I can tend to anyone else.

23. Want to know a secret? One thing people say that gets under my skin is: Any time someone complains about minor aches and pains. Especially if they do so repeatedly. And doubly so if the complaint is prefaced by an "I can't do such-and-such because" and followed by a "Can you do it instead?" I'd like to shout at them because I am guaranteed to be feeling worse all of the time.

24. But I love it when people: Spend time with me in an activity that doesn't require a lot from me, such as board game or movie nights. Nights in are much preferred to nights out.

25. My favorite motto, scripture, quote that gets me through tough times is: "I don't care, I'm still free. You can't take the sky from me." (Oh, Firefly. I love it so much.)

26. When someone is diagnosed I’d like to tell them: "You're a superhero now! But one with a secret identity, so only a few will ever know it. So don't worry about dealing with this. You can handle each day as it comes, because you're stronger than most."

27. Something that has surprised me about living with an illness is: How easy it is to forget that I have one. I am often overstepping my self-imposed boundaries on good days, and paying for it for weeks afterwards.

28. The nicest thing someone did for me when I wasn’t feeling well was: Offer me a hug. It was extra special because said friend NEVER offers hugs.

29. I’m involved with Invisible Illness Week because: Well, since it's not until September, I'm technically not (yet), but I like the fact that it exists. It's validating.

30. The fact that you read this list makes me feel: Worried about what you'll think of me now? (I'm an anxious person like that.) But happy that you cared enough to read.

2011-05-17T19:06:00.000-05:00

The only thing scarier than not being able to breathe is knowing that it could happen again at any time, with no warning at all.

Today

2011-05-08T18:28:00.001-05:00

Today has been:

Housing trying to kick me out a week before my semester is over because of a complicated miscommunication, and at least one person in the housing office lying to me.
Housing finally granting me an extension and giving me a pink sign to put on my door.
Carrying laundry down four flights of stairs and then back up again while not well enough to be doing anything of the sort.
Gobstoppers for lunch because I'm out of food and everything on campus but 7E is closed.
Moving furniture on my own despite the above mentioned unwellness.
Going to 7E for food and then discovering upon my return that, despite being granted an extension to stay in the dorms, I no longer have access to the building. Locking me out of my own residence hall: Nice going, IIT. I do believe I'll be thinking twice about living here next year.
And, to top it all off, a bug went and drowned himself in my milk.

Alright Universe, I get it. You can ease up now, I've still got work to do.

2011-04-29T09:32:00.000-05:00

So I might be taking an extra semester or two, to preserve my sanity and my ability to take proper care of myself. I'm not sure my parents will approve. And I hate to make them pay for three kids in college full time, when that could be avoided if I graduated on time. . .

I'm also sick of this city. . .

Oh, ideal solutions, where art thou?

2011-04-27T01:10:00.000-05:00

So my anxiety attacks have come back.

I used to have them fairly frequently. About anything I didn't want to face. Or phones. Or doctors. You know, things. So I spent years, and I do mean years (lots of them, even!) coming to terms with stuff and giving the anxiety attacks the boot.

And so the past few years have been great! I even managed to leave the country and wander around a little city in England and befriend some homeless folks there, as well as awesome role playing folk, and it was great. I was so proud of myself.

And last night, as I was trying to sleep, my brain wouldn't turn off. I kept thinking about how awful next year is going to be academically. I was thinking about this comprehensive exam I'm taking this week, about how I'm not sure I'll be able to prepare for my weekend class while I'm taking the comp, about how I'm pretty sure the paper I wrote for my Origins class was awful. . . and suddenly I realized my heart was racing.

I was lying in bed, exhausted, and suddenly I was wide awake. Near-panicked. Terrified. On the verge of tears, shaking, and worst of all. . . alone.

I got online, and my boyfriend was still awake, and I talked to him for a bit, but I could still feel the oppressive weight of everything bearing down upon me, and it was just awful. I cried a bit. Then I played Minecraft until I felt tired again, which was three in the morning. (Did I mention I had part one of my exam at ten in the morning?)

Woke up still feeling awful, downed some chamomile, found company, got through part one of the exam and went on with my day. Started feeling better, went to improv, had some great fun, and then the humour turned decidedly sexual and that kinda ruined everything for me. I'm usually okay putting up with it, since I know it's just me who dislikes it and the point is to let people have fun, but I've been on edge and moody and feeling alone and argh.

The being alone is the hard part. I feel like I need advice. Good advice, not the "Oh, I'm sure you can do it" kind (which isn't really advice but everyone seems to think it is). I'm scared and I don't want to be scared alone. I want someone to talk me through everything that's making me anxious and help me find the best solution.

Why won't anyone fucking do that? Just because I'm bad at getting right to the heart of the matter doesn't mean I don't need help. And I'd like it from someone I trust, because I've had enough "professionals" laugh at me or tell me to stop being a baby and dammit, I don't want to go through this again.

I've been feeling more and more anxious since I left improv, and I want it to go away so I can sleep and do well in the next part of the comp and be able to read for this weekend. I want to stop feeling a lump in my throat, a herd of gazelle stampeding through my stomach, and a cyclone of what-ifs running a rampage through my head. I'm on the verge of another anxiety attack now, and I don't know what to do about it other than confront what's making me anxious and fix it.

But the future can't be fixed. Only planned for. And dammit, I don't know what I should do and have a history of making awful decisions under my belt. I just need some advice. Or something. Anything. Please?

Spring!

2011-04-16T23:45:00.000-05:00

It's spring!

I can tell because the hyperactive puppy that is my immune system is going, "Hey! Pollen!" and pouncing on it like a new toy, thus destroying everything in its path.

It is clearly time to take my immune system back to obedience school.

2011-04-15T12:16:00.000-05:00

It really pains me to know that the doctors I've seen all my life always want to put me on pharmaceuticals when there are perfectly natural, safe, and easy alternative therapies that work just as well, if not better, than the gorram medications, and leave me with no unpleasant side effects.

I mention this now, because I've just discovered the value in rice socks and neti pots for dealing with joint stiffness and pain and sinus problems, respectively.

I am a happy, happy person. But really, doctors. . . really? If I complain about the side effects of every medication you put me on, shouldn't that ring a bell? In this case, the internet has been far more helpful than any doctor's visit.

2011-04-12T08:55:00.000-05:00

Do you know what it's like to not have enough energy to turn over in bed?

Do you know what it's like to wake up after a solid night's sleep feeling like that?

Do you know what it's like to spend a day doing more than you should, despite the fatigue?

It's enough to make anyone want to throw a boot at someone's head.

2011-04-10T09:04:00.000-05:00

It's nice to talk to people who know when I'm joking.

Welcome back, Jack. The internet (and I) missed you.

Alienated By Education

2011-04-09T12:05:00.000-05:00

I take pride in my education. I really do. It's helping me to find myself, to feel good about myself, and to be more prepared to handle whatever life throws at me.

I'm an individual now, not a scared little girl trying to conform to a mold that's too small to contain her spirit and intellect. And I'm happy about that.

But I've noticed that my education is also alienating me from the people who share my same interests. From those friends who encouraged me and helped me through so many things. It's like I've hopped up a level somewhere, and they stayed contentedly behind. Sometimes I feel like we're speaking different languages. Other times it's like there's nothing for us to talk about.

They want to talk about guys, or gossip about their classmates and coworkers, or talk about this new show they've been watching like it's the greatest thing in the world.

I want to marvel at the way rain refracts sunshine into a beautiful rainbow, or discuss the philosophical and moral implications in their latest favorite work of fiction, or brainstorm ways to fix big problems in our nation and around the world.

They see a politician as corrupt. I see the system as corrupt.

I don't see the world the same way they do. Perhaps I've become too analytical or something, but. . . it's alienating. And I don't like that. Once I graduate, and leave this place of higher education, I may never find people who I can have interesting conversations with again.

I felt trapped in high school. Stuck in an empty system full of empty-headed peers. I found challenge at college, but I feel like it's preparing me to feel the same way in the adult world.

I don't want to be surrounded by empty-headed peers. I'm tired of people people hearing me voice my thoughts and thinking I'm being pretentious, or insulting them, or something ridiculous like that.

I want to feel a part of a community where I can speak my mind and be understood.

I shouldn't feel like it's a bad thing to be philosophically curious.

2011-04-08T19:29:00.002-05:00

I feel like I've done an awful lot of growing up quite suddenly.

Only time will tell if it sticks, I suppose. Though I kinda hope it does. I need this.

CHAAAAAAAAAAAARGE!

2011-04-05T11:45:00.000-05:00

Today this was delivered to my inbox.

I do love when I find my own experiences of my symptoms validated by sources like WebMD. This should be enough to get a note from Student Health Services telling Housing to be nice to me and let me use the Grad Hall kitchen. Specifically the part about sensitivity to certain foods. The Commons forces me to experiment every now and then, and I don't always know what's in the food I'm eating, so I can't properly figure out what is and is not okay for me to be eating. It would also explain why the food there used to make me sick, no matter what it was. I was probably reacting to something they used to cook with all the time.

Oh well. I'll go pester them later today, or maybe later this week. If they won't give me a note, I'll just get my mom to get one from her doctor, who is technically my doctor even though I haven't been to see her in years.

I shall triumph here. This I have decided. If I can't get chocolaty comfort foods anymore, I am going to have access to a kitchen where I can make my own delicious snacks that are actually good for me. CHAAAAAAAAAARGE!

2011-03-09T17:56:00.000-06:00

Days like today make me want to cry.

I've been trying so hard to be cheery and positive, but I feel terrible.

I had a good start. I got breakfast. A bagel and a banana. Then I went to class, and partway through, the fatigue set in.

After class I ended up using up what spoons I had left chasing down a human and recruiting another zombie.

I was so shaky by the time I got to GG that I couldn't make it either to my room or to the Commons. Had a meal replacement shake. Drank that, felt a bit better, came back to my room Tried to be productive, failed. I'm not sure where the hours have gone.

I am hungry. Had a PBJ.

The problem is, I need real food, but I'm not sure if I'll make it back to my room if I go to the Commons.

I hate this. I should be stronger than this, I should fight through it, but that will only make it worse. I'm missing rehearsal tonight, I'm likely missing class and work tomorrow, and I'm stuck sitting here trying not to feel hopeless about my prospects for the future and frustrated with myself for letting this get the better of me.

I wish I could tell people that I am wrestling with a chronic illness, but that's the thing. I'm not ill. It's a chronic something, but that just makes it all the more frustrating, because I don't even understand what's wrong with me, so I can't fix it. I just have to live like this. And I hate it.

Counting Spoons

2011-03-05T09:19:00.000-06:00

Everyone who likes to do cool things with me, or just hang out, or whatever, should read this. Right now.

Have you read it? Good.

I don't have lupus. (Yet. Hopefully not ever.) I have FMS. (That's fibromyalgia syndrome, if you didn't know.) And like the woman who came up with Spoon Theory, I have finite spoons.

It's crushing, to have to finally admit this to myself. I'm the kind of person who likes to keep moving, who wants to do everything, who lives by the code of "If you want something done right the first time, do it yourself." But I just can't. There's too much to do and not enough spoons, and I keep wearing myself out. So now I've got to learn to count my spoons and plan my day.

And I know I've been frustrating people. I've been ridiculously unreliable, I haven't been visiting or hanging out as much, and I've had to pass on doing loads of fun things, just because I simply don't have enough spoons to get through the day. And I really hate it, but there's not much I can do about it but take care of myself properly so I can have some days with more spoons.

Because I have a lot of days that are chock full of spoons. I am a ridiculously resilient person, and if I remember to properly care for myself, then I practically have an unlimited supply of spoons. It just takes more work to get to that point and maintain it.

So you'll have to forgive me. And be patient. I've been out of sorts for more than a month now, and I have no idea how long it'll take for me to get back to being well. And when I am well, I have no idea how long I will be able to stay well. I just don't have as many spoons as most people do, that's all.

Dreams Speak Truths, Shrouded as They May Be

2011-02-06T11:42:00.000-06:00

I had so many dreams last night. I dreamt my books arrived. I am worried about them. I dreamt of so many people I know, plus Pokemon, Brock and Misty, hanging out like old friends and having an adventure with a high speed cruise ship we'd borrowed from a mall.

But the dream with the most lasting impression had Hannah driving me from the cold, snowy city of Chicago into a warm, magical and cobblestone-filled place where life worked like a video game. It wasn't Oxford, nut it had aspects of Oxford. There was Port Meadow, the waterways, that windy alley shortcut I found my last day there. And we were going to Hannah's house. I was going to bake her a cake. There was going to be girl time, and nerdy fun, and happiness. The way was hazardous, and terrifying, but I trusted Hannah and it turned out to be a really ridiculously fun adventure. We never got to her house. My alarm got in the way.

I miss home. I miss Hannah. She's the best friend I've always needed. I miss fun and adventure and facing down my fears. It's not often I wake up from a dream to a lingering sadness such as this.

It's Just Caffeine, I Promise!

2011-01-29T09:50:00.000-06:00

I'm sure that, one of these days, public safety will stumble across me while I've got too much caffeine in my system (it takes about two chocolate bars, sometimes less) and not believe that I'm simply caffeinated past my normal tolerance levels.

I mean, I was honestly convinced that gravity was broken and I was going to fall off the world if I didn't hold on to someone or something. Among other things. Apparently I was hilarious to be around.

All I know is that now my head feels awful, I slept but got no rest out of it, and I am grumpy as heck.

Grr. Argh.

2011-01-19T09:52:00.000-06:00

I am a rainbow today.

That is, if rainbows were disconnected, occasionally had runaway polka dots, and could make people's eyes explode.

Neel better remember I'm in his Origins class this time around.

The Happy Prince

2011-01-12T21:01:00.000-06:00

I read a bunch of tales by Oscar Wilde today. They're for class tomorrow. Whee, class!

Anyway, the first one I read was The Happy Prince. As I was reading it, I was struck by how much the Happy Prince reminded me of me. That thing where he gave of himself until he had nothing left? Yeah, I do that. I can't help it.

But then I got to the end. His only friend died from staying by him, and both were, in the end, regarded with distaste and cast aside, to be forgotten by the people they had worked so hard to help.

Yes, God did regard them as the most precious things in the city, which was awesome, but. . .

I don't want to end like that.

Fiction: it causes uncomfortable thoughts.

So I'll just go and read a Babylonian (or possibly Mesopotamian) creation story instead. Hooray for Marduk!

2011-01-12T14:03:00.000-06:00

I went to Oxford, and was all, "Oh no! What will I ever do without grape jelly?"

Then I caved and tried black currant jam.

So when I came back to the US, I was all, "Oh no! What will I ever do without black currant jam?"

But then I went to Aldi and lo and behold, black currant jam, ripe for the buying! So I did. And it is delicious. I heart Aldi.

Food nostalgia~

2011-01-02T15:12:00.000-06:00

Oh my. I'm nostalgia-ing all over the place.

Why?

I miss Oxford food.

Yes, seriously.

Jaffa cakes. Don't even get me started on Jaffa cakes.

And blackcurrant jam. I haven't been able to find ANY here, and I actually like it way more than grape jelly (which is impossible to find there, but whatever).

Chocolate spread. I miss chocolate spread on pancakes and toast.

Proper bread, even! I've never had better bread than I did in Oxford. Sooooo good.

Vegetable stock cubes. Knorr makes the BEST vegetable stock cubes I've ever used, except it's not the same as the stuff they sell here (which is mysteriously absent from all the grocery stores in this area anyway). I haven't been able to make delicious rice or decent soup.

Green curry paste that's affordable.

Wednesday farmer's markets. Oh man. So much produce. So cheap. So fresh.

Organic milk that's not ridiculously expensive. It's sooooo tasty.

Kebab van chips. With proper malt vinegar. My mouth waters at the thought.

Digestives! I've got a package on the fridge. I've been saving it for Chicago. I ate the chocolate ones, though.

The pizza from Zappi's Café. Best pizza I've ever had.

The hot chocolate.

I've never had hot chocolate like the kind I had in Oxford.

And every place in Oxford has different, equally as delicious hot chocolate.

It's just not fair.

And the veggie burgers! So many different kinds! All fantastic!

I haven't been eating right since I came home. I miss Oxford. I miss Oxford food. It was all soooo yummy and (mostly) good for me!

Grad School. What.

2010-12-16T20:25:00.000-06:00

I've been unsettled since I've been back in the US. I've become increasingly unhappy. I am detached, alone, and restless. This is not where I'm meant to be. In January, I go back to Chicago for school. That, too, is not where I'm meant to be. But finishing college is a must, and I'm more than halfway there. Three semesters to go. I can do this. Then I'll be free.

But I'm thinking about grad school. This is. . . unexpected. And scary. Downright terrifying.

I'm thinking about grad school for theology. What.

And I'm thinking about grad school at Oxford. This makes it no less scary, but it makes it. . . right.

So, yeah. That's about it. Hey, Oxford! Wanna have me back in a couple of years? Maybe then, I'll be back to stay.

Regret

2010-10-10T15:24:00.000-05:00

I never thought I'd feel regret for coming to Oxford.

I love it here. I want to live here and never have to leave. It's my kind of city filled with my kind of people. I feel safe here. I feel like I belong. I walk down the street and feel the sheer joy of this place.

But the work is hard. I'm routinely putting in fifteen hours of work per class and tutorial. That's forty five hours a week. It's worth it, and I'll emerge out the other side a better student and no worse for the wear.

But it's getting in the way of something more important. That, and the six hour time difference.

I barely have any time to talk to my beloved anymore. And it hurts us both. He's a saint about it, and encourages me to do what I have to to get my work done. School is important. He encouraged me to take the chance and come here, and he's getting me through it. But it's coming at a price. And I'm not okay with that.

He needs me. Life's not easy for him right now, and he needs me, but I have to seclude myself in order to get my schoolwork done. And what can I do to ease his pain and fears from across the ocean, from so far away? I don't have healing words. I have arms that hold and a heart full of love and understanding and support that can't be communicated but in person.

I need him. I'm alone and overworked, fighting chronic health problems and depression. He makes everything better and restored my sense of "everything's gonna be okay."

Two more months.

We can get through this.

It's just two more months.

But it would be so much easier if I would be seeing him when I go back to the States, instead of having to wait another three months after that for my chance to visit him. And I'll have to work hard for that, too, and won't be able to talk to him much, but at least then, we'll be in the same time zone, and be able to talk on the phone.

It's just so hard.

It makes me have doubts. Doubts about me. About my strengths. About my ability to get through these last two years of college.

I'm already considering changes. Major changes that would bring just as much joy and hardship as coming to Oxford has given me. But at least, this next time. . . at least I'd be with him, and the hardship wouldn't be the separation. Because I am strong, and I can get through this, but once you've found that person who so completely fills the void in your heart, your life and your soul as he does for me. . .

You just can't take being apart. It hurts far too much. I was drowning before him, and when I am with him I am flying. I can't go back to drowning.

He gives me strength. He gives me strength to stay and see this out. But that doesn't take away the hurt, the loneliness, the tears that I cry at night when I'm too worn down to protect myself and the world comes crashing down on me and I just need him to be here with me and hold me and make me safe and make me me again.

But at least I know that this sadness I feel right now is mine. Wholly and completely mine. It has a cause. It has a purpose. It comes from within and not from without.

Even while we're apart, he gives me strength.

But I'm not sure how much longer this strength can hold out.

I want to stop regretting being here.

But I am continuously overworked, and then my walls come down and all the sadness and worry and pain of everyone around me comes flooding in until I can't think and the world is reeling and I'm sinking down into a dark abyss while everything flutters out of my control and I lose myself.

And that's when I need him most. A few words, the sound of his voice, the way he looks at me, the feel of his arms around me, holding me together until it all passes.

But instead I have to be strong and get through it on my own, as I always have. But twenty years of the same vicious cycle, the violent ups and downs, they take their toll.

I'm at my limit.

I can only pray this year passes quickly and I make the decisions that are best for both of us.

Weird Thoughts

2010-10-02T17:31:00.001-05:00

I have weird thoughts sometimes.

Like, sometimes I think I might be a prophet.

I don't want to be a prophet.

But sometimes I think I might be one. I don't want these thoughts. But I think them anyway.

I've read most of the Prophets in the Bible. They've all got some things in common. They all stand between the people and God. They see both sides. They speak with God. The relationship they have with Him is different than that most people claim to have with whatever deity they believe in. And the prophets. . . they see that people are missing the point, and they can't help but tell everyone so. They know the right way. They see it so clearly. But no one believes them, and they are shunned and punished by the people as if they had done something wrong.

God has spoken to me. Several times. I don't have that "fear God" mentality because I know my God wants nothing but good for me. I know He will help me get through all the tough times in life. I know He is kind. I know He is love.

But I get it. The more I read the Bible, the more I think, the more I pray, the more I understand. The religious state of this world isn't right. It's awful and all the conflict hurts to look at. We don't all have to have the same beliefs. (I'm not even sure if there is only one deity. For all I know, there might be more. My God has not told me otherwise.) But I look at my fellow Christians. I see all the division, the hypocrisy, the anger and hate. And it tears me apart inside. It's not about being right. It's not about being better than anyone else. It's not even about going to Heaven (which I'm not sure I believe in-I have yet to see evidence for it even in the Bible) and avoiding spending eternity in Hell (which, again, I'm not sure exists). It's about love. Unity. Compassion and kindness and being the best examples of humankind that you can be. It's about helping those in need and treating everyone fairly and equally and it's about peace. It's about joy. My God is Love and people don't see that.

I believe that Jesus died not to forgive us our sins and make a way for us to Heaven, but to take the burden of our sins from us so that we may, through Him, get to know God the Father. So that we can have that relationship, so we can understand and finally see what it's all about. He died because we messed up big time but God still loved us and wanted to find a way to make things work again.

And for a while, work they did. And then too many generations passed and people lost sight of what it's truly about and got self-righteous when they had no right to.

And now look at the world today.

Really, look at it.

We've messed up again. And people don't see it. But I do. And what do I get for speaking like this? My mother tells me I'll go to Hell if I'm not careful and my dad laughs at me, and my fellow Christians ridicule me and tell me I'm not a true believer.

But I am.

I can't be otherwise.

God has spoken to me.

Sometimes I think I might be a prophet. And I really don't want to be.

In Which I Talk About Sex (Oh my!)

2010-08-20T21:11:00.000-05:00

I'll be the first to admit that sex terrifies me. That's a huge part of why I'm still a virgin and intend to remain so for a lot longer yet.

I mean, I know about sex. I'm not afraid to talk about it. I have friends who are not shy about filling me in (even if I'd prefer they not). So I know the first time is going to be both incredibly painful and involve a lot of blood (for me, that is). These are two things I am not good at dealing with. You'd think I would be by now, being a lady with properly functioning lady parts and living with the pain of fibromyalgia. But I'm a squeamish wuss. And so I know my first time is not going to be pleasant, and I'll probably cry, and it'll be awful.

But besides that, sex is an incredibly intimate thing. With my neuroses, that is a huge deal. I've grown up with so many insecurities and issues with trusting people that it's a miracle I'm managing to get over them little by little. But certain things are going to be a part of me forever, and I don't know if I could ever give myself in that way to more than one person. I really don't think I could.

That's why I want to wait until I'm married. I don't care that my mom says that the first person you have sex with won't be the person you end up spending the rest of your life with. (Some "devout Christian" she is, telling her children that!) I know me. I know I want to only share that with the person I'll be with for the rest of my life. I know I want it to be with someone who loves me for me and who doesn't make sex a huge, deciding factor in relationships. I know I'm going to need that person to be someone who will hold me while I cry and be patient with my panic and fears.

Yes, I'm afraid of sex. I'm not ashamed of this. Why should I be? Everyone has fears, and several of mine happen to be involved here. I'll either overcome them eventually or end up becoming a crazy cat lady. Either way, I'll be happy because at least I'll know I'm staying true to myself and not letting anyone force me into something that I would regret and would possibly turn me into even more of an emotional mess than I already am.

I'm simply tired of people learning that I'm a virgin and being surprised. I'm tired of people telling me I'm stupid for wanting to wait. I'm tired of people thinking I'm naive and doing this only out of some religious devotion. And I'm tired of the attitudes towards sex that are prominent in our society today. It's something everyone has to make their own decisions about based on what's right for them, and maybe more people would be responsible about it if it wasn't so taboo.

I am twenty years old. I am halfway through college. I am in a happy relationship. I am a proud virgin, and I intend to be one for some years yet.

The Need For Worship

2010-06-13T19:50:00.000-05:00

I sang in the shower today. I haven't done that in weeks. I got caught in the rain and laughed my heart out until the cold of it sent me inside. I listened to the sounds of the earth and the sky and felt them echoed deep inside myself.

I am uplifted. I am renewed. I am energized, joyous, and capable.

I went to worship today.

I had honestly forgotten how much I need it. I need to be part of the church, I need to be involved, and I need to worship my God alongside my spiritual family. It is my stability. It is my hope. And it is what keeps me happy, pulls me out of the depression I am prone to sinking into, and gives me the confidence I need to step out into the world and face adversity with love and a smile on my face.

I often worship alone, but worship with people who share my beliefs and my ideals. . . I need it more than I realized.

50 (One) Things to do Before I Turn 112

2010-05-06T11:24:00.001-05:00

Everyone needs a list like this. Inspired by my awesome roommate Janet!

1. Live in a hobbit hole.
2. Marry the person I love.
3. Get published for pay.
4. Work in a library.
5. Be an ML for NaNoWriMo and Screnzy, at least once for each.
6. Learn to play accordion.
7. Go to Ireland.
8. Go to Antarctica.
9. Leave the planet.
10. Summon an Elder God.
11. Fear nothing and be fantastic.
12. Get an ocarina and learn to play it.
13. Forgive.
14. Get closer to God.
15. Conquer my demons.
16. Self-publish.
17. Complete a serial novel.
18. Write a comic book script and get someone to draw it.
19. Have my own darkroom and a nice camera.
20. Prove my mother wrong.
21. Win a spelling bee.
22. Go scuba diving.
23. Belt out “Total Eclipse of the Heart” in public and not feel embarrassed.
24. Serve Communion.
25. Get an alto recorder.
26. Be prepared.
27. Be strong enough to be strong for everyone else.
28. Stop that “worst-case scenario” voice in my head.
29. Join a dance troupe.
30. Direct or perform in “Waiting For Godot.”
31. Triumph over fibromyalgia.
32. Be my own doctor.
33. Take care of someone I love.
34. Be happy at the end of one great day.
35. Giant sock.
36. Make Dallana real.
37. Take a leap of faith.
38. Be truly myself in a job interview.
39. Work in a bakery.
40. Learn five languages that aren’t English.
41. Read all seven Harry Potter books in 24 hours.
42. Gallop across the countryside on the back of a horse.
43. Raise a child.
44. Sing to the moon.
45. Write on good poem.
46. Make my own clothes.
47. Learn to cry again.
48. No regrets.
49. Take a ride in the Tardis.
50. Love myself fully and completely.
51. Successfully break the fourth wall.

Scared

2010-04-02T00:44:00.002-05:00

I scare easily. But I never thought I'd get so freaked out about this.

I've suspected for a long time. My mom has suspected. I'm finally fed up and need to know. So I made an appointment. Tuesday begins the quest to get me the answers I need.

I may very well have fibromyalgia. I may very well have lupus. If I have one, I very likely have the other. My mom has them both, and all my symptoms match hers. And they're getting worse.

I'm scared. I'm really ridiculously scared. I made the mistake of looking up information about lupus. It's terrifying. I can handle fibromyalgia. Neurological disorder. Cool. I can deal with that. I'm not sure if I can handle an auto-immune disease.

I see what it does to my mom. I don't want that. Not for me.

And I'm sick and tired of all the pain. I can't predict it, and it gets worse every time. I can't control it. Pain meds don't work. Nothing works. And it's taking its toll on me.

I'm tired of being in pain. I'm tired of not knowing why. I'm tired of feeling myself get worse and worse with each flare-up. I'm scared I'll have to give up doing the things I love to do because of this pain. And now there's fatigue along with it. I play tennis. I rollerskate along the lake. I climb trees and romp with dogs and work with horses and do a lot of physically strenuous things. I'm a farm kid. I want to grow into a farmer. I love the work. I love being active. I love doing. I don't want that taken away by faulty genetics and things I can't control.

I'm trying to learn to be independent.

What if that's taken away before I even achieve it?

Grr, Argh

2010-03-22T08:24:00.003-05:00

I cried myself to sleep last night. Been about a week since I've done that. I was hoping I was past this, but. . .

Let it be noted that I hate crying myself to sleep. I hate feeling sad when there's no one around and I'm sitting here all alone. I hate that there's nothing I can do to remedy my sadness other than be patient and wait for the brighter days the future is bringing me.

Grr, argh, I am NOT a happy camper today.

Life

2010-03-19T16:30:00.003-05:00

Life is not so easy I would like it to be. It never is.

Pancakes from scratch are not something I'm very good at. Especially when trying to avoid using the proper recipe for rice flour pancakes because I despise honey.

There were lots of things I used to think I needed. I was wrong. Then I was wrong about being wrong. But only on some accounts.

I burn things when I'm absentminded. I've been absentminded a week now. No doubt some of you know why.

I am lonely. This is the normal state of things.

I am okay. I want to be more than okay. But I am happy that I am okay. I have been on the other side of okay, and it's not a pleasant place.

I am often happy. But it is not lasting. Today's happiness will not make it through the night. That's alright, though. I'll make more happiness tomorrow. I'm getting good at that.

I'm in a good place with good people, but I'm starting to feel like this isn't where I'm supposed to be. I've been letting God lead me the past couple of years. Things have been getting so much better. But I made a commitment to school when He led me here. I'm going to finish.

I have found Home. I'm not there now. It'll be a while before I'm there again. And it'll be even longer before I'm there to stay. I can be patient. I can wait. It's more than worth it.

Life is life is life. Sometimes I wish it wasn't.

I am not trapped. I must remember this. I am not trapped. When the time is right, I will break free, and all the happiness I can hold in my heart will be mine. I must have faith. I must have patience. I must have strength.

Sometimes life surprises me with a handful of Reese's Pieces and says, "Keep your chin up. You're doing just fine."

Distance

2010-03-03T21:35:00.002-06:00

I'm good at handling distance.

I can keep a family together from a different time zone. I can foster friendships while spending months apart.

I've found love over the internet, and can wait out the time and the distance to make things work.

I'm quite good at this sort of thing.

But that doesn't change the fact that sometimes, I need someone who's not far away. I need a hug, a shoulder to cry on, someone to notice when I'm acting strange, sit me down, look me in the eye and say, "Tell me what's wrong."

I don't get close to very many people, and they keep moving away (or I move away to school, which amounts to the same thing). I get used to having someone nearby, and then... they're gone.

We stay close. I'm good at that. But there will always be times when I need someone here.

To Whom It May Concern: CTA

2010-02-21T22:58:00.002-06:00

To Whom It May Concern:

I am going to abolish the CTA.

With fire.

And dynamite.

Either the bus tracker has been on the fritz since you cut back the frequency of the buses, or there are long periods of time where there simply are no buses coming. At all. Whenever I freaking need one.

When there is an inch of new snow on the ground and it's still coming down hard, and the plows are running amok and hardly paying attention to the pedestrians, and it's dark and wet and UNSAFE to be walking down the street, there NEED to be buses.

I am exhausted from moving. And coming down with a cold. And got drenched waiting for the second bus I have to catch to get to campus. And had a long rehearsal.

AND I HAD TO FREAKING WALK A MILE HOME IN THAT MESS AT TEN THIRTY AT NIGHT.

You are going to pay for this.

With fire.

And dynamite.

Sincerely,

A very ticked-off bus rider

2010-01-16T19:30:00.002-06:00

Imagine a world where the main forms of transport are kayaks, canoes, bicycles and roller skates. A world where people know each other and look out for each other. A nice world. A quiet world. Imagine a world of backyards full of woods, neighborhood dogs, bookstore cats, cozy libraries and family run corner stores. Imagine a world where it doesn't get too hot in the summer, and not too cold in the winter, a world where the weather is, for the most part, mild. A world with just enough hills, wide rivers and winding creeks, where education is taken beyond the classroom and friendships extend beyond the surface and no one is ever left behind.

Imagine, just for a moment, this world. Imagine that it exists. Imagine that is real. Would you go there?

It's a shame, really. It really is. I want to go to that world, but instead I am caught up in one which leaves me anxious and afraid, whirling and lost. I want to make my home in that world which my heart longs for. If only I could find it.

Decisions

2010-01-11T19:55:00.002-06:00

I pray before I make any big decision. I do this because, even though I can weigh all the pros and cons, I don't have the foresight needed to make the best choice. I also quite often have trouble knowing what's most important until after I've made the wrong decision. Since I've gone off to school in Chicago, I've fallen away from my faith a bit and didn't pray as much as I needed to. And I made a lot of bad decisions.

So I started praying again. And now I've reached a painful conclusion. If I don't go to Oxford next year, I'm moving back into the dorms. If I do go to Oxford, I'm living in the dorms my senior year. I don't lie the dorms, I don't want to be there, but right now, I'm just not in a situation to handle all the stress of living off campus. I need to be able to focus on school, among other more important things. Honestly, I feel like I'll be happier off campus, away from all the drinking, the drugs, and the late-night partying that keeps me from sleeping. But I was uncertain, and I've been praying, and I'm left with a deep conviction that moving back into the dorms is the best idea.

Every decision I've made after much prayer has been the right one. I'm confident that, somehow, this will be as well. So, look out, dorms... here I come.

Some Thoughts on My Faith, Post Youth Rally

2010-01-10T19:32:00.003-06:00

It's not often a man can rip a Bible in two in front of over 4000 Christians and be thanked for it. I'm glad I was present to see it happen. I only went to the United Methodist Youth Rally this year because Justin Lookadoo was speaking again. He was there two years ago, the first time I attended a rally. Then, he delivered a message that resulted in the beginning of a successful struggle against depression and the continuing rise in my self-esteem. I felt God's presence in that place, and heard Him say that I am worth something to him, that I have a purpose to fulfill, and that I should never, ever forget that. It was amazing.

This year was not as dramatic, but just as important. I needed to hear this message, needed to see that Bible torn in two, needed to be given the three words that will, given time, change the way I think about everything: "Is it holy?" I faced fears about my relationships with the people closest to me... and overcame them. I saw all I didn't like about myself, and saw how to overcome it. It will be a long and hard road, but I think I can do it. I have God with me, after all.

It scares me to know that if I had to choose between any of my important people and God, I'd choose God. That in itself isn't the scary part, though. The scary part is that I don't think most of my important people would understand that. I think they'd feel betrayed, hurt, abandoned... It's hard for someone who doesn't understand or share my faith to see that this doesn't mean they're any less important than I tell them they are. It's just... I could never turn my back on God. I wouldn't be okay without Him. He is the reason I am okay today. I wouldn't be happy without the people who are closest to me, but I would be okay. After spending the majority of my life not being okay, there's no way I could go back. God is love, protection, guidance, strength... I will always, no matter what, be worth more to God than I deserve.

Thankfully, I doubt anyone will ask me to make that choice. I don't force my faith on anyone, though I may talk about it. I can't help that, as my faith is such a huge part of who I am becoming. But I'll never insist that my beliefs are the only ones that are right, because, frankly, I just don't know. I know mine are right because of my own personal experiences. No one else can know my proof. Because of that, it's unfair to expect anyone to believe what I do.

I was falling away from my faith, and things were getting really hard. But now I'm back on the right track, and I feel better than I have in a really long time. I will be guided in my actions by the question, "Is it holy?" and I will read my Bible more often. I won't be so afraid, because I've got an idea of what I'm doing now, and I've been reminded that I am part of a huge, loving family. There are people everywhere I go that I can count on to be there for help and guidance. i just have to get out there and find them.

It might seem strange that as a Christian, I'm not all that concerned about what will happen after I die. I'm not as afraid of death as most people are, and what happens then... well, it'll happen. I'm concerned with the here and the now. I'm concerned with love, happiness, and living life to the fullest. My faith is a faith of life, love, and laughter, not one about getting out of going to Hell. I've never been worried about that.

This weekend has been a weekend of getting things in order and getting right with God once more. I've figured out a lot of things, faced down a lot of my deepest fears, ad started out on the path to conquering some more of my demons.

I'm really glad I got to go and watch Justin Lookadoo tear a Bible in two in front of a hall full of thousands of Christians. Once again, he has opened my heart so God could get a word in and push me back on the right path. Something tells me I'll be okay for longer than a year and a half this time around. Hopefully, this time it'll stick.

Forgot

2010-01-07T15:15:00.002-06:00

I forgot how much I love this lifestyle. I forgot that, when it's not too cold out, the work is often fun.

Chasing the dogs, hauling grain, spending time with the horses, taking care of the chickens and the cows. Walking up and down and across the hills, climbing over, under, and through fences. Looking out over the yard, the field, and the garden and taking in the space, breathing the fresh air, and soaking up the sunshine. I can see myself doing this for the rest of my life. I don't think I could be this happy with any other lifestyle. I just love the farming.

Under all the stress, with the bitter cold and the months spent away at school... I simply forgot how much I loved it.

Sometimes, a gal needs reminding, I suppose.

Fragility

2009-12-27T20:52:00.003-06:00

My self-image is far too fragile. It's been doing excellently lately, but it hasn't gotten any stronger. Just a couple of words from either of my parents, a few more from my brothers, and it comes shattering apart.

I can't tell if what I perceive to be my family's image of me is what they actually see. My brothers seem to like me well enough, but sometimes it's like they wish I wasn't around. My mother is clingy and controlling. She obviously doesn't trust me despite assuring me that she does. Her actions have proved that. The fact that she told my best friend that she was sure I was sleeping with all the guys in the dorm my first semester of college is proof enough of that. She gets mad at me for caring about my health and then turns around and insists that I need help to do things I'm perfectly capable of handling myself. It confuses me. And then my dad... he tells me I'm not allowed to leave the county after I graduate college and then gets mad at me without any cause at all. Like today, when he said we're visiting his mom tomorrow... I told him last week I needed to get my allergy shots tomorrow. I reminded him. He got nasty and used the tone with me that he used to use with my youngest brother before chasing him from the house. I didn't say I wasn't going to go to grandmom's. I said I needed to get my shots at some point during the day.

I just... I don't understand. Sometimes things are going great, and then all of a sudden I feel like everyone in my family is accusing me of being a terrible person. And then I start to feel like I'm a terrible person and it all goes downhill. I know better than to let them influence the way I feel about myself but... old habits die hard. They're my family. All my life, making them proud of me has been the most important thing because they were the only people who mattered. And even though things are different now... I can't shake it. When my dad gives me that look, uses that tone of voice... when my mom doubts me when it hurts most... when my brothers shout and throw things and tell me they wish I'd stayed in Chicago... I feel like a terrible person.

I wish I could break myself of that. I like being happy with myself. I like feeling as well as knowing that I am a good person, a good human being. And I wish my family, the people who should be most supportive and encouraging, wouldn't make me feel like an awful person.

They say recognizing the problem is the first step toward solving it... I hope I figure out the next step soon. Something tells me that step lays overseas... only time will tell, I suppose.

Rescued from ProU: 5-25-2008, Perfection: When Everything Goes Wrong

2009-10-14T00:38:00.002-05:00

This post is rescued because it is full of fond memories. It's especially loved at the moment, because I really miss my church family while I'm away for school.

At church today, I had an interesting experience. Since I make and run the powerpoint for our contemporary service, I was nervous from the start. Pastor Hayden, the man in charge and the only one who ever knows what's going on, was on vacation. We had a guest speaker, Reverend Caroline, from another church. And instead of the usual single blunder someone makes each week, each and every person involved messed up. Several times. Everything went wrong, and almost fell apart. It was awful. That is, until one of the newcomers this week came up to me and told me that I was doing a wonderful job with the powerpoint, told Mark that he was doing great with the mixer, and mentioned that the service was great.
Hold up a second. It was great? Sean, playing his electric guitar in the band, had his amp up too loud, so there wasn't much Mark could do to control his volume. The lead singer, Kevin, semed to have missed the cue to begin one of the songs. My computer has been acting up, and as a result, several of the powerpoint slides didn't do what they were supposed to do. There was no one available to take the children to the nursery and watch them, so they were being noisy the whole time. Somehow, someone forgot to turn off the lights so the powerpoint could be seen. Reverend Caroline wasn't told about the ending prayer for Communion, and everyone got confused. Sara, who was leading the prayers, got nervous and talked too fast, and wasn't clear enough about the popcorn prayer we usually do, and everyone just sat there silently.
We were all kicking ourselves in the behinds for goofing up, especially on a day when we had so many new faces in the congregation. Usually, we do so much better than that.
But then, all the visitors were impressed. Some of them had come to visit from Reverend Caroline's church, where they have nothing but contemporary services. They couldn't believe that this was only our seventh week doing it. So many people, all of them new to our church, were thrilled. There was an energy that I had never felt in my church before. It was exciting. We could feel the Holy Spirit in the hall with us. Everyone was just so...happy.
So we messed up... a lot. But somehow, it was perfect. We've never gotten a response from the congregation like the one we got this week. Despite our obvious shortcomings this week, we really touched a lot of people.
I never used to believe in perfection. But now I'm starting to think that it is imperfection that makes perfection.

Rescued From ProU: 5-11-2008, Empathy: Greatest Curse, Greatest Blessing

2009-10-08T23:22:00.001-05:00

My senior year of high school was rough...

The little girl knew she was different. Something would happen, and her friends would be of mixed feelings, forming different opinions. She would be left alone in the neutral plane, understanding each individual's stance perfectly, but perpetually unable to choose a side. She had no opinion, and could not explain why. She was caught in the middle, seeing all, yet never being able to form her own opinion.
Feeling alone, she vainly clung to the opinions of others. She knew their reasoning, and was able to fool everyone into believing she felt that way, too. But she never did. And it tore her up inside to know that she was different, that she was living a lie.
She could see all sides of an argument. She could clearly tell what each person had contributed to a conflict by listening to each participant's story. She could not always tell truth from lie, but she could distinguish why they were angry. But there was never anything she could do to help. No one would listen to her. She was too young, too naiive, even among her peers. It was not her problem, she should be staying out of it.
That was when she realized another way in which she was different. She quickly got over her own problems. They came, and they went, all within a short span of time. She could never stay angry, because she saw what she had done wrong through the eyes of the other person, and was able to better herself through that. And somehow, the other person always forgave quickly. No conflict lasted long or went unsolved when it involved her.
But she could not help others. When she was an outside party, she was pushed away. Whether it be conflict or loss, anger or grief, she ached to help. She was saddened by others' pain. It pained her when she knew there was something she could do, but she was pushed away. They told her she knew nothing of the evils of the world, that there was nothing she could do because she didn't understand.
But she did. And it hurt her.
Now she is almost grown, she has experienced the evils of the world firsthand. She is not the same naiive little girl who only wanted to help. Now she is scarred, haunted by the memories of constantly being pushed away when she only wanted to help. It makes her afraid to offer a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen to. She is still pushed away. It makes the pain she feels when she sees someone in need of a friend or a mediator only grow. And it does not go away.
Friends fight with each other. It is a long time in coming, and she saw it from the beginning. People grow apart. She knew it was happening. They were both in the wrong. She could have explained to them each what the other was feeling. She hoped to help them go their own ways on good terms, if not save their friendship. They never wanted her help. They never forgave one another.
She watched this happen over and over again. She gave up trying to help. Then it happened to her two closest friends. It nearly broke her heart in two. She never once chose a side, though she felt pressured to do so. Instead, she made sure she let each of them know she was there for them to vent to. She heard both stories. She understood each of them. She knew the cause of the problem. The two friends came from entirely different backgrounds. High school had sheltered them. But when big decisions had to be made, they reacted differently. When tragedy struck, they reacted differently. They did not understand each other.
But she understood them both. And she failed to communicate with them, to mediate the conflict and help them to understand each other. She could not do it, because she was held back by the memories of her past attempts.
But it was the turning point for her. She learned to form her own opinions, learned how to maintain the middle ground and back up her reasons for doing so. She no longer hid behind what others felt. She determined to never again let her fears and insecurities hold her back from trying. And she learned what it was that made her different.
Empathy. It was strong in her. It was her curse, when she was forced to sit back and watch friendships fall apart, and see people suffer in silence. But it was also her greatest blessing. She would use it to help those who needed someone. It mattered not who they were. She would always be there to help others understand, to lend them a shoulder to cry on, a loving and understanding embrace. She would be there to help them put words to their feelings.
She understood. And she would use it to do what good she could.

Rescued From ProU: 4-1-2008, If I Died, Would You Come to My Funeral?

2009-10-08T22:10:00.001-05:00

Wow. I'm glad I haven't felt like this since writing this blog...

"If I died...would you come to my funeral?" A question one of my best friends asked me today. It struck a chord within me, because I've found myself wanting to ask people that same question so many times before. She is hurting, and as a result, I am hurting, because I know exactly how she feels, and there is nothing I can do to help her overcome those feelings...
Alone. Shrouded in darkness, in doubt. It eats away at you, constantly gnawing until you can take it no more. The need to know for sure, the knowledge that you can't, the inability to simply have faith. Alone. Shrouded in darkness, in doubt...
Does anyone really care? How much of what they're telling me is the truth? Will they stand by me, or walk away when the going gets rough? Who is true, and who is not? Would they be worried if something happened to me? Would they be upset if I was hurt? Would they even care at all if...if I died?
Feelings that won't go away. Doubt that cannot be overcome. The need to have what you cannot hold onto anymore. Being alone, scared, confused, doubtful, upset...hurting, but afraid, or even unable to let anyone help.
The world as you thought you knew it, falling apart before your very eyes. You have no control over anything. Needing a friend, someone to confide in and seek support from, but letting doubts get in the way. Fear of betrayal reigns over the darkness, digging its icy grip into the heart, the soul, poisoning the mind with its torture.
This place, where I have been many times in my life, is not somewhere that anyone deserves to be. To be hurting so badly, knowing that you need a friend, but unable to talk to anyone. To have doubts about everyone's sincerity, coupled with an intense need to be certain. It comes slowly or quickly, creeping up on you over time as the seeds of doubt germinate and take root, or latching onto your heart with such a frenzied fury that it takes you by surprise.
It follows betrayal, hardship, and insecurities. It provokes that voice in the back of your mind, and its whisperings follow you wherever you go. You cannot get away, you cannot block it out. It devours you, a little at a time, until you cannot take it anymore. It overwhelms you to the point of breaking.
Nothing anyone can say or do will help. You cannot see what is going on in their minds, hear their thoughts or know their feelings. But you need to know. You do not want to be betrayed, to be stabbed in the back by someone you trusted. The very thought grips your heart with fear and agony. You need to know, but you cannot know. And you cannot bring yourself to have faith.
It is an internal battle, one that you could very easily lose. Overcoming those feelings, that gnawing doubt, and learning to trust again is one of the hardest things a person could do. It takes time and determination. The way is not clear, not even to those who have been there before. The path through the turmoil is constantly changing, and must be felt out in the darkness. The journey is slow and painful.
But it is possible. It is possible to learn to trust again, to learn to be happy and conquer that doubt. Life is full of its ups and downs, and it is much easier to go down than it is to climb back up. It always will be. But with determination to overcome your inhibitions, you can always make it back out, and allow yourself to feel and accept without question the love and friendship you have. Because you can never know for sure, but you can take it on faith. The hard part is learning to find that faith once again. But it is possible...

Rescued From ProU: My Argument For Public Schools

2009-10-08T09:07:00.005-05:00

This isn't a blog post from ProU; it's a comment replying to another persons comment on a poll. I'm saving it because I want to show people the argument I make for public schools. It's apparently a good one, because one person afterwards said I was their hero, and another said I am exactly the reason she wants to teach in public school. Yay?

First, the comment I replied to:

No more public education for my school aged children. I want to protect my children and raise them right.
Not selfish, I just do not pander to the anything and everything goes society. I want to raise thoughtful, productive, honest, trustworthy children. I like the fact when someone with an unsophisticated mind uses a swear word or lies, that my children take offense. People of this world are becoming disgusting, vulgar individuals that have been given over to reprobate minds.
And I replied:
I am thoughtful, productive, honest and trustworthy. I do not swear and do not like it when others swear around me. I dress modestly, respect everyone, and really like to feed people. I like to help where I can. I like to consider myself a respectable person who's easy to get along with. I'm a Christian and love going to church. Ask anyone who knows me: they'll tell you I'm a good person.
I went to public school. My high school was overflowing with violence, racism, swearing, and all sorts of vile and vulgar things. But I came out the better for it.
I don't discriminate against people. I can still be friends with someone whose lifestyle or views I disagree with, because I've grown up getting the short end of the stick and seeing just how awful human beings can be. I'll stand up for someone who did nothing wrong but is still looked down upon. Why? Because I went through public school, was bullied, and had people stand up for me.
Some of the most respectable and most compassionate people i know came from the public school system. A lot of the people I know who were home-schooled have even more trouble socializing than I do.
Schools don't raise children for their parents. They just fill their minds with facts and knowledge. What I saw in school that you're trying to protect your children from is what taught me what kind of person I didn't want to be. I saw the effects of drinking and drugs on my classmates, and hated it. I saw the results of hatred and violence, and hated it. My compassion grew because of it.
I was bullied, made fun of, teased, stolen from, but in the end, it made me a stronger person. It taught me to stand up for myself and what I believe in. Once I could stand up for myself, I was left alone. School became fun again, and I took many more valuable life lessons from that place. Yes, I'm glad I never have to go back. But I'm even more glad that I went.
I fail to see the bad in that.

Rescued from ProU: 3-27-2008, We Can All Be Someone's Guardian Angel

2009-10-07T23:34:00.003-05:00

I touched a lot of people with this blog entry. It was very personal, and hard for me to share, but it was met with support and encouragement that really helped me keep going. And again, so much has changed for the better since then...

Something's been on my mind today. This something is a matter of the heart. It's part happiness and part confusion. It also has a little something to do with dependence and insecurities. And it may hide the key to making the world a better place. It involves someone I met online back in January, myself, and the miracle God has presented me with.
I had just clambered my way out of the dark abyss of self-loathing, but I had not yet made it to the freedom of complete self-acceptance. I was still picking my way up the steep and dangerous path of self-awareness, learning my shortcomings and strengths with each step along the way. There were more shortcomings than anything, and they were really slowing me down. In the darkness of my own soul, it is hard to overcome these obstacles, hard to get around them without misstepping and finding myself tumbling headlong back into that abyss.
When I met him, it was as if I was meeting another random person. We spent much time discussing his fanfiction, and I came to know that he was one of those naturally funny people who can make anyone smile. But God places everyone in our lives for a reason. And often, that reason is not apparent until after you've learned the lesson He wanted you to learn.
It was only after I found myself on the verge of a panic attack, watching my neighbor's barn burn to the ground and praying that the wind would not spread the fiery tongues of destruction that I realized he was not just one of the many fanfiction writers I have befriended. Though he had only words typed upon a computer at his disposal, he was able to keep me calm throughout the ordeal. He distracted me from my terror of fire, and while talking to him, I felt safer. And I knew the fire would not spread.
My friend had unknowingly become a beacon unto my path, and was lighting my way so that I could overcome my internal obstacles without the fear of stumbling and falling back into the abyss.
We continued to talk, and I found myself happier and more confident than ever. The end of my journey toward self-acceptance was ever drawing nearer, and no longer was I afraid. Though I kept it to myself, he always seemed to know when I was down and needed a laugh, and was quickly delivering one. Whether he knew it or not, he had become my guardian angel, guiding me and looking out for me.
He challenged me to come out of my shell, and little by little, I have begun finding shreds of confidence along my path that I had never been able to see without his guiding light.
But I was not aware that I had so quickly become dependent upon him to be there for me. A separation lasting just under a week. That's all it would be. And the first two days found me groping about blindly, stumbling and sliding back the way I had come in my panic. I realized then how badly I needed him, and how hard it was to continue on without him there.
On the third day, I managed to regain my calm, and sat still for a while in the dark, just thinking. I thought about my confusion, my need for him to be there for me, and how lost I was without him. I thought about the things he had said to me, and how I knew he wanted me to be happy. I thought about how I usually push people away because I don't want them to see my struggles and worry themselves over me. And I thought about how I never did push him away. I thought about how I didn't want to have to push him away to keep him from worrying about me, and I thought about what he would want me to do.
He would want me to be strong and continue on in his absence. And so I did just that. I went slowly at first, adjusting to being on my own once again. It was hard at first, but his light had showed me a little of what lie ahead of me, and I knew what to expect. And with each obstacle I managed to get around, I did so with a smile, thinking about how, if he knew of my internal struggles, he would be proud of me, and know that I was capable of making it on my own.
I know that there are many others in the world who, like me, are struggling to find their way through the darkness of their own hearts so that they may finally be happy with themselves. It is a long and treacherous journey, but one that must be taken in order to truly achieve happiness.
But so many of these people have always been alone. They've never had anyone to shed a little light on their path and to guide them for a piece of time and help them find the confidence they need to go it on their own. They push their friends and family away, not wanting anyone to worry about them. And they slide further and further back toward that abyss.
All it takes to help someone in this situation is to reach out to them and talk to them, make them laugh, and cheer them up when they're down. You don't need to pry into their problems and try to solve them; that is something they need to do on their own. But sometimes, all it takes is a friendship that asks no questions and is given freely to make a world of difference.
Think how much better the world would be today if people weren't so caught up in themselves and could extend the hand of friendship to someone new. You may never truly know who is struggling and who is not. Indeed, it is hard to tell most of the time. But if everyone would make the effort to spread a little kindness--not too much, but just enough to make someone laugh or smile-- the result would be momentous. All of those little bits of kindness would add up. And each person touched by this kindness would in turn be motivated to extend the love to someone else.
If only everyone would put aside their own problems for a few moments a day to make sure someone else was happy, the movement would spread like wildfire. And perhaps, by showing just a little more kindness and a little less selfishness, the world would in turn become a more peaceful place, a place where everyone can live without constant fear, a place where we're not afraid to befriend someone else and we're not too self-centered to give up a little of our time to them, and in return, see true smiles and hear true laughter ring out and echo into the heavens.
We all need someone, sometimes, to show us the way to overcome our internal obstacles on our own. Sometimes, all we need is someone to give us the motivation to succeed. From there, the future looks brighter, and the world seems a better place.
We can all be someone's guardian angel. But are we making the effort to do so?

Rescued from ProU: 3-26-2008, The Idea of Normal

2009-10-06T21:00:00.002-05:00

I walk through the halls of my high school, watching the people around me. They cluster together in groups, blocking hall traffic, and gossip. Every conversation is a variation of the same, everyone is wearing the same brand name. The same drama, prejudices, hate, it's all there, flowing between each student around me.

I sit at the lunch table I share with my friends, watching the people around me. The students separate into their cliques, which on the surface are all the same. The snatches of conversation that drift to my awaiting ears all resonate with the same familiarity that surrounds me each and every day. The voices are full of tension, crying out in agony under the burdens of trying to fit in.

I joke around with my friends. We don't quite match, we don't have a clique, and our social niche is one we make ourselves, despite our vast differences. I say something random that makes my best friend laugh, while our other friend merely shakes his head and tells me, "You're not normal."

I look around at all the conformity. I look back at him. "Normal doesn't really exist," I reply. "There's just this idea of normal. And everyone is striving toward it."

And as I look around, watching the people around me, I realize the truth of my words. Each and every person in the cafeteria, in the halls, in the classes where we are taught, is unique. Each and every person has a unique personality, something that makes them stand out among the crowd.

But they hide their indivual identities to clamor for a vague idea of normalcy. They crave acceptance, and so they try to be what everyone else is trying to be.

The problem is, the idea of normal is created within one's own mind, and thus each person has a different idea of what normal is. Can society truly achieve a sense of normalcy like this?

I watch the people around me. A few dare to stand out from the crowd, and I realize that they are all my friends. We don't match the crowd, and we certainly don't match each other. But that doesn't matter to us, as long as we can be ourselves.

A smile alights on my face as I ponder a new thought. Perhaps...perhaps being yourself is what normal truly is. And if so, then my friends and I, no matter how much we are told otherwise, simply must be the normal ones.

We are not social conformists, blindly struggling to fit in when we can stand out with hardly any effort, and be so much more comfortable with who we are.

Yes, truly there is no such thing as "normal." There is only the idea, but is it truly worth striving toward?

I am me, and that's all that I'll ever be. High school amused me in all the ways that it shouldn't, and horrified me in all the ways that it should.

Rescued from ProU: 3-23-2008, Something Came Back to Haunt Me Today

2009-10-06T20:42:00.002-05:00

Something came back to haunt me today. It's plagued me throughout my childhood, followed me to school, and threatened my life with thoughts of suicide.

Something came back to haunt me today. It contradicts all that I believe in, and how I feel about myself, and how I appear in the public eye.

Something came back to haunt me today. I've been trying all my life to conquer it and wish it away. It pulled me away from my faith, my family, my friends.

Something came back to haunt me today. Its roots are so firm in my heart, my soul, my mind, that it doesn't matter what I know, because I cannot control what I feel.

Something came back to haunt me today. I have fought against it and suffered along the way. I have come back to my faith with renewed devotion, learned to be myself and not be afraid, and have changed my very outlook on life.

But it won't go away.

I've fought it and begun to conquer it. For a time it was gone. I found salvation through my savior, Jesus Christ, and his loving embrace, through the writing my God deemed I was to use to reach the world, and through the words of a man named Justin Lookadoo who spoke at a youth rally I went to.

But it came back to haunt me today. With each time I hear my mother complain that no one helps her when I'm right there, giving up my homework time to do housework to lessen her load, every time I try my hardest at something that no one taught me how to do only to have people come behind me and say I didn't try, each and every time I throw my heart into something I believe in only to be ridiculed and put down, it gains strength.

I had thought I had conquered that voice in the back of my mind, telling me I'm a failure, that I've never done anything right and I'll never be good enough for anyone or anything. I thought I would never again hear that voice telling me that people would be happier without me around, that no one needs me and I only get in the way.

I had believed I'd conquered it, winning the most epic of battles against it back in January, when Justin Lookadoo brought 4,000 people to tears by reaching into our hearts with his words and making us realize that to God, our worth is always the same, no matter how badly we mess up in life. Our value never goes down, and he clamors for us to come to him as a group of teens will clamor after a beat up and dirty hundred dollar bill. I had thought I had won the war when a woman named Cassie held me until I could speak through my tears and then prayed for me to always know that I was worth something in my God's eyes, and I felt the same comforting presence like a loving embrace and a warm blanket being thrown over me at once that I felt several years ago while terrified out of any coherent thought, and capable only of prayer, back on that night a tornado missed my house by a mere few miles.

I thought that I had conquered that voice and that it was finally gone from my life.

But Satan will not give up so easily. And that voice came back to haunt me today. It whispers to me in my loneliness and dredges up that deep ache in my soul that tells me that I'm not worth anything and the world would be better off without me.

I know without a doubt that that is simply not true. I have felt God's loving reassurance twice in my life, and I know that He has a plan for me and that I have friends who need me to be there for them so that they do not fall into the same dark abyss that is threatening to engulf me again, friends that have told me I have a power of healing, that I can cheer anyone up just by simply being there. And yet I cannot heal that ache within myself.

This ache, that voice, the doubt in my own worth, it all resurfaces with a vengeance each time I find something that makes me happy, and threatens to pull me away from all that I care for, that I NEED. Now, it is someone that I have developed feelings for. It is not love, though given time anything is possible. But hearing from him always makes me feel like I am worth something, and cheers me up. When I am talking to him, nothing can bring me down. And now, knowing that soon, I will have to go almost a week without being able to talk to him, the voice has resurfaced. I'm fighting it, but it's still there, persistently whispering things, and I am terrified that during that week, I'll fall back into the depths of the abyss I have nearly climbed out of.

It's frightening, this feeling of not being worth anything. I thought I had overcome it. But it came back to haunt me today.

I was going through a really bad patch of life in the first half of 2008. You'll all be happy to know that now, I rarely feel like this. Days like the one described in this post are few, and getting farther and farther in between. Lots of things have changed in big ways since then, and all of them for the better.

Rescued From ProU: 3-17-2008, Release

2009-10-05T17:06:00.004-05:00

I'm closing down my ProU blog because the community there isn't the welcoming one I found when I started my first blog there. I'm deleting my posts from the site, but there are a few that I rather love, and a few that contain fond memories, so I'm moving them here. Here's the first of that lot, Release.

I remembered why I play tennis today.
I won't lie to y'all. I'm out of shape, and I'm not all that good. I'm the slowest person on the team, my back-hand is several times weaker this year than last, and I'm having more and more difficulty keeping the ball in play because my eyesight is getting bad. Clearly, I don't play for the glory or for the recognition.
I'm not too popular with my teammates. I have a few good friends on the team, but the majority of the other players prefer to stay away from me. So, it's not a clique thing.
I'm in two AP classes and honors Spanish four, and I get a ton of homework that I can hardly cope with as it is. I don't have that much free time to kill, so that isn't why I play tennis.
Until today, I was considering quitting the team because of the stress in my life. But today we had a scrimmage against a private school. Last year, I played exhibition and was crushed.
This year, I played second doubles, and we went into a tie-breaker set. The match lasted nearly two hours. Never in my life have I had so much fun playing a sport. My partner and I were well-matched against our opponents, and because this school plays with add scoring, we spent a lot of time haggling over deuce.
And when I came off the court, though we lost, I felt happoer than I had been in years. It's exhilarating to be out there on the court, racket in hand, ready to clobber someone, and then watching the ball come soaring at you and knowing, without a doubt, that you're going to nail it.
I remembered why I play tennis today. It takes all my stress, all my woriies and anger, and strips them away, leaving me free to enjoy the sun on my face and the wind in my hair, to savor the rush I get when I make a nice return that no one thought I would get. It's just...a release...
Everyone, especially those in school, needs to have something that can do that for them. They need a way to vent their anger and strip away their stress. If everyone could do that, don't you think the world would be a better place?
I miss tennis a lot. My school doesn't have a team, and I don't have anyone to play with... I should find a tennis partner. I could use a tennis session to rid me of all this stress.

ProU... What Happened to You?

2009-09-27T18:10:00.003-05:00

I'm having to make a decision I don't like to make.

For a couple of years now, I've been on and off active on the blogging site ProgressiveU. The point of this site is to give people a chance to voice their opinions. It's to be progressive. It's a place to talk about the things that matter, to open discussion between people of differing views, and create a community of people who think about what's happening in the world and want to do something about it.

In short, it's not your normal blogging site.

When I signed up, it was for the scholarship competition (which I didn't win), but I quickly figured out my niche in the ProU community. I'm not into politics. I don't try to solve huge crises. I'm more interested in helping people on a more personal level.

I was struggling to conquer years of depression when I started blogging there. And so that's what I blogged about. I wrote about what helped, what didn't, and what the experience was like. I was hopeful. I was struggling. I was putting myself out there for others to judge, and they didn't judge me. Some encouraged me. Others were encouraged by me. I built up my courage and started voicing my opinions in comments on the blogs of others. I made many good friends. I learned how to back up my beliefs on a variety of issues.

And then I came to college. My first year, I didn't have time to blog. I lost touch. Then I came back.

And I'm thinking of leaving for good.

Due to lack of funding, the scholarship competition has been put on hold, and so there are fewer people flocking in with the hope of earning some money for college. But people are still joining the community.

Sadly, from what I've seen, a lot of these people are into bashing Christianity. I have yet to see a single blog posting (I don't search, but I've spent lots of time browsing at random) that spoke out against another religion specifically. The people who claim to want religion in general to disappear use Christianity as their example.

This really, really bothers me, as a Christian. And worse yet, since I have not kept my faith secret from the ProU community, there are several bloggers who won't give me the time of day. They treat me like a terrible person sometimes. They dismiss facts pulled from fairly unbiased sources because I'm the one to have presented them. They aren't just bashing Christianity any more; they're bashing me.

I am a good person. I know this. I don't go out and kill people, I don't force my faith on others. I don't tell people who don't share in my beliefs that they're going to hell. I encourage people to make their own choices. This includes what they choose to believe. I have no business forcing my beliefs on anyone.

But when someone tells me that I should have beaten back my depression with medication instead of using "false beliefs" as a lifeline, I draw the line. When someone says they've taken depression medications, but never really reached the point of considering suicide, but they still know better... I just want to scream.

I was never diagnosed with depression. I had parents who thought I was dramatizing everything and a doctor who told me to stop whining when I tried to bring up the subject of depression.

I do not believe in medicating anyone unless it's absolutely necessary. I know people whose depression has been made worse by being medicated, but made better by getting out of a bad situation, or, in my case, finding faith.

When people say that someone who clearly has an "I'm better and smarter than you" personality happens to be a Christian, all christians are necessarily bad, because they use their faith to justify acting stupid and being intolerant. When someone says that their faith has made a positive difference in their life, that becoming a Christian was something that really helped them, people say that they should have made more of their life through different avenues: medication, therapy, etc.

Please.

There are people out there, like me, who need their faith. They need religion. It's hard to believe in yourself when you don't believe anyone else believes in you. It's hard to love yourself when you feel unloved. It's hard to motivate yourself to make something of your life when you feel like there's no point to anything.

And faith of any kind can change this. I would know. I've been there.

And I really, really hate that ProU is filling up with people who hate Christians simply for choosing to believe in a God and choosing to believe in a Savior.

Many Christians are choosing happiness.

I wish I could make them understand. But they won't listen, because I'm a Christian myself. They don't care that I fought my faith, that I didn't want to believe, and that I've experienced life without a belief in God, and made my choice.

They don't care that I have experiences upon which I base my faith, as opposed to simply quoting the Bible or believing because I was told to.

They don't care that I have nothing against other religions or atheism, that I have nothing against homosexuality and actually support gay marriage, that I have my own set of beliefs that differs from those of my parents and those of many people in my church.

They don't care that I'm not judging them. They judge me.

And this is not what ProU was when I joined. Now, every time I log on to read through some posts, I come away angry and insulted.

I don't want to leave the site. I have friends there. I have good memories there, from the first friend I made to the day I gave a good argument in support of public schools despite my own terrible experiences there. I learned so many things there.

But I don't need another reason to be angry. I'm working on being happy. This isn't helping. So I think I should leave, though the very idea breaks my heart. It's a tough choice, and one I'm not going to be hasty to make.

Anticipation

2009-08-19T18:53:00.002-05:00

I'm excited to get out of here. More so than last year, even, and last year was the year of anticipation and discovery, uncertainty and chance-taking. Last year was the year of finding myself amidst all the chaos and impressions surrounding me from day to day.

This year is the year of escape. The year of freedom. I knew I would be homesick last year. This year, I know exactly what I'll be homesick for: the place--open spaces, cleaner air, green things and animals to care for. I'll miss the semi-ruralness of it all. I'll miss the farm.

I'm not going to miss the people (with the exception of one or two. Dotti doesn't count, because she won't be here, either.).

I'm leaving with the knowledge that I'm going to a community of people who have their ups and downs, but who support each other. People who love each other. People who I would do just about anything for, and who would do the same for me. I'm going to the family I've always wanted and needed. I'm leaving with the knowledge that where I'm going is the right place for me. It's where I'm meant to be, the place where I can get the kind of education--both academic and related to life--that I have always needed. I'm leaving with the knowledge that I can be myself, that I will have more fun than I've ever had before, that I will be, above all else, overwhelmingly happy.

Happiness... it's been hard for me. Most who've known me since I was a small child would never believe that. I know how to hide. I know how to act. It became second nature, and letting go of that to acknowledge my depression was the hardest thing I've ever done. I fight daily for my happiness while I'm here with my biological family. It just comes naturally when I'm with my extended Shimer/IIT/NaNo family.

I love you guys. You mean the world to me, and I can't thank you enough for supporting me through all my struggles and loving me for who I am, not who I used to pretend to be.

But now comes the dilemma. I'd been using packing for the return trip to Chicago on Saturday as my excuse to stay holed up in my room away from everyone else. I'm done with the packing, and I'm not well enough to disappear into the outdoors. I'd never make it back up the hill. Sigh... Just a few more days. I'll figure out what to do with myself until then, I suppose.

The Greatest Place In The World

2009-08-16T19:09:00.007-05:00

I'm talking a specific, geographic place, because I can think of at east one place I'd rather be that isn't really an awesome place in the same sense as this place. But as far as dots on the map go, this one can't be beat.

What am I talking about? What place could possibly be so great as to take the number one spot on the list of awesome places? Where is this place and why is it so great? Well, I won't tell you why it's so amazing. I'll show you. This is only a brief glimpse of the greatest place in the world, Assateague Island, National Seashore.

This is the camper my family of five stays in when we go to Assateague. It sits in the bed of my dad's truck. Yes, five of us live there for a week or more.

This is a bad picture of my mom. By the time I started getting pictures of people, my camera was hopelessly salt-coated and it was getting dark. Anyway, my mommy keeps us sane and fed while living in close quarters, and I appreciate her very much.
These are my boys. My daddy is in the middle. He's our transportation, our lifeguard (why would anyone actually want to swim in the ocean with a bunch of other people and a lifeguard to yell at you?), and our story-teller. He's been going to Assateague since he was a kid. Drew is on the left. He's the middle-child. And CJ is on the right, clearly finding something interesting washed ashore.
This is me! With a seagull feather in my beach hat! I like the sideways composition too much to rotate the picture.
Hello, Atlantic! You're a wonderful ocean! So sparkly and colorful, with all your blues and greens and grays! Just teeming with life and fun and possibilities! And dolphins! I'll put up my video of them later!
Fabulous skies. This is just after sunset. Look at that sky.
The clouds are just so beautiful!
All the pastels! So beautiful! Pictures can't do it justice!
Assateague is also home to endangered and threatened species. Like this sand piper! (aka, piping plover) They're adorable! I think they might be my favorite bird.
Campfires! We salvage the wood from what other campers leave behind.
Goodnight, sun!
The plant life is extraordinarily varied. Maybe more pictures of all the different plants I found later. Here's a sample for now, though:

There are non-threatened species, too! Look! One of many varieties of seagulls found at Assateague! I once got one of these guys addicted to peanut butter, despite the "no feeding the wildlife" rule. Come on, it's a seagull. It begs. You can't resist.
Bits and pieces of shells and things wash ashore. You can find treasures in there, including shark teeth, sometimes.
The puddle was so big, it was practically a pond!
The dune grass is doing well. Hopefully there will be more dunes next year.
This is the sun after it's risen over the great Atlantic. I was out there waiting for it half an hour early, because something about Assateague makes you want to greet the world with the sun. And you don't even need an alarm clock to do it. You just wake up, refreshed and ready for the day.
I love when the beach is deserted. I love being able to get away from people. This is during sunrise, or just before, I think.
Dunes! I remember being really little, and thinking they were the most fun! That was before dune jumping started to take its toll on the island, of course. But it's doing well! The dunes are taller than me again!
An honest to goodness tidal pool. There were hermit crabs living in it! Hundreds of them!

Wildlife! Plants! The ocean! Campfires! Sunrises and amazing sunsets! I wish I had pictures of the stars (when Ocean City is less bright on the horizon, you can pick out each individual star in the Milky Way) and the bioluminescent shrimp washed up onto the beach. Stars above and stars below, and shooting stars to boot! It was beautiful! This place holds my heart. Assateague Island, I shall never cease to be awed by you.

Can has Plan A?

2009-08-15T18:29:00.003-05:00

Being a helpful person is very fulfilling. You make people happy by stepping up to offer help when no one else will. It's a nice feeling. You feel good about yourself and what you're doing, and have the appreciation and gratitude of those you help. It's totally a win-win situation, right?

Right?

Eh, not always.

In my case, my helpfulness got the idea into people's heads that they could just assume I would do things for them without asking me in advance. It's been quite bothersome. Because, you see, I have plans of my own! I would like to follow through on my plans! I don't want to be everyone's Plan B.

But I'm heading back to Chicago for school at the end of the week. I'm looking forward to it, because I'll be able to do what I want, and not what everyone else just expects me to do. Don't get me wrong, I like helping people, but I'd appreciate being asked instead of told. I'd appreciate having a chance to do what is more important for me personally once in a while. And so, when I return to the city, i look forward to being able to follow through on my own Plan A, instead of being everyone else's Plan B.

The Universe Has Struck Again

2009-08-14T19:16:00.002-05:00

Many of those who know me are aware that I often state that the Universe is out to make my life miserable. I do pretty well at hiding from the Universe every now and then, but it always catches up with me and wreaks havoc. I say this most often when things are going terribly.

Well, folks, the Universe has found me once again.

Why do I say this? Because, on top of everything else (I could make quite a list at the moment) and being sick (it's my brother's fault... he gave it to me, I gave it to my other brother... yikes), I've got to see two more specialists for a total of three.

And I'm terrified of doctors. Specifically those who I have never been to before and those who don't make a good first impression. The nurse practitioner I usually see (and only because I have no choice in that matter, seeing as I'm not the one driving or paying medical expenses), my mom's gyn, and all the doctors I've seen but one since I grew too old to see my pediatrician anymore (I miss him! He listened! He understood! He helped my self-esteem when I was young and unhappy! He never misdiagnosed anything or gave me medication I didn't need!) fall into this category. Specialist number one, who is helping me with my allergies and asthma so I can breathe without heavy medication, managed to make a wonderful first impression, despite the fact that by the time he came in to talk with me, I'd just survived brutal allergy testing, was emotional, and cried a lot.

So I'm okay with specialist number one.

But I don't want to see number two (because she's the only ob-gyn my mom trusts, and I'm not sure I can manage to find one in Chicago who takes our insurance...) because when I went to see her several years ago for a problem similar to but not quite the same as the current one, she frightened me and came across as incompetent. I don't care that she was the doctor who delivered me when I was born. She gives we the willies and I don't want to see her.

And specialist number three hasn't been discovered yet, we just know that I need to see a rheumatologist to determine if I have inherited my mom's fibromyalgia, and figure out what to do about it. I'm either going to get the "it's all in your head, you're fine" line, or be told I have to take prescription painkillers, neither of which is something I want. I just want the "why," thank you very much.

Bleh. This is going to be nerve-wracking and annoying, but I'm tired of knowing that something, and several somethings, at that, just is not right. My need to breathe has conquered my fear of needles (though I really shouldn't have looked at what they stick into my arm... eep). Perhaps my need to know why and fix problems will overcome my fear of doctors? Maybe?

Aw, bleh. I need sleep. And to not be sick. First order of business: regain the health of my respiratory system. Breathing without congestion, a runny nose, coughing and wheezing is nice. I'm also never spending three hours in the back seat of a truck next to a sick sibling again.

Get. Me. Out. Of. Here.

2009-08-07T12:41:00.003-05:00

So I got shouted at for making myself lunch today. Apparently the sound of the cabinet and the microwave doors was magnified by the extreme anger upon which my mom was inflicted when I informed her as soon as I realized I couldn't renew my library books another week (for her convenience, being the driver) and they were due back by tomorrow.

I wasn't aware giving calm, advance notice of a brief stop that could be made amongst errand running combined with reheating leftovers was such a bad, anger-inducing combination.

I also wasn't aware that telling someone to drop the conversation was actually a demand to keep arguing, because I got shouted at for my "Fine, we'll drop it, now can I please eat my lunch?" silent demeanor as well. And told the reason I'm being a jerk is because I'm PMSing. (Which I'm not. That was last week, thank you. Now I'm just sleep-deprived and wheezing because of her insistence that she can damage my lungs with her smoke all she wants.)

I'm confused. I'm also very upset and angry, and very, very close to saying "Forget it!" to vacation, because as badly as I need my annual retreat to Assateague, I'm not sure I can handle being cooped up with my mother. Because the only way to prevent shouting and arguing leading to my dad's terrifyingly dangerous driving on the way home would be to try to help my mom with the camper tidying and cooking, despite past experience telling me that this would be a serious mistake on my part if I intend to spend my vacation time unwinding instead of crying.

Ugh.

I'm going to go eat two scoops of peanut butter twist ice cream instead of one because my mom's at the doctor with my brother who's been either at camp or sick all summer, and I feel I deserve extra peanut buttery goodness for not shouting back.

Also, can I go back to Chicago now, please? I miss my surrogate family. They actually make me feel loved, and don't shout at me for fixing the problem of the hungry myself.

To Whom It May Concern

2009-08-04T20:13:00.004-05:00

To Whom It May Concern:

I realize that deviantART displays advertisements in order to allow free use of your site to people like me who are too poor to pay for a membership. Believe me, I understand this, and I appreciate that I do not have to pay to have an account on your lovely site.

In fact, I sometimes actually enjoy the ads. Some are cute, some have nice art, and others actually interest me, leading to my clicking and your subsequent earning of moneys. This is a win for all parties involved.

However, I would appreciate it if you would review these ads to make sure that none of them automatically redirect the browser to a site with harmful content.

Allow me to elaborate:

Today, I was scrolling through the gallery of an artist I follow. I was enjoying myself and the art immensely. I was thinking up witty yet encouraging and helpful comments to leave. I was being a good, contributing member of the deviantART community.

I clicked the "Back" button, and as soon as the ad at the top of the page loaded, my browser window was automatically redirected to another site. This site claimed my computer was infected with dangerous viruses, and kept popping up command boxes in which the only option was to click "Okay" and allow a so-called anti-virus program to download and scan my computer. I was forced to quit my browser completely to make the little buggers go away.

Naturally, I am not fooled by such things. They are obvious scams designed to infect and steal. I am smarter than that. I am aware. I also have a Mac, and do not run Windows. I cannot be fooled by these scams, because I am safe from viruses. My computer will not be breached by such lowly cyber vermin.

Understand that I am not accusing you of allying yourselves with the menaces behind such nuisances as these so that you can steal information from the computers of unwary deviantART users. I fully believe that this was an oversight on your part, because how could you possibly want to redirect someone away from your site without the little warning that, yes, "You're about to leave deviantART!" No one would possibly find your site memorable or pleasing with an experience such as I had today. I am sure that now I have alerted you to this problem, you will immediately remove all such advertisements from your site, because of course you have no ties whatsoever with those fiends (who shall pay dearly for their crimes).

Thank you for your cooperation.

Always on the lookout,

Kinkatia

Wondering...

2009-08-03T21:43:00.003-05:00

Since I'm in a pretty darn good mood today, I find myself thinking about the overall emotional state of my summer thus far.

And I can't help but wonder how much of the depression I've been falling back into is due to the circumstances, and how much can be attributed to the antihistamine I have to take.

I hate antihistamine, and the cruel way it messes with my head. It is cruel. And evil. Evil by evil's standards.

So I'll know what is what once I get back to Chicago in less than three weeks. I will be away from the unhappy, depressive environment and back in the one that lifts my spirits and reuses to let me feel down and blue for extended periods of time. I shall be free again!

And if the darn bouts of feeling horrifically depressed for no apparent reason continue, I shall start out on a rampage to eradicate all evil, evil antihistamine... once I'm to the point in my immunotherapy where I don't need it anymore. Which I hope is soon. Sooner than a year, at least?

Oh well. I'm happy now, and that's what counts. I am gleeful! I am... well, actually, I'm maniacally whimsical. It's fun! You should try it sometime!

Also, I refuse to not be happy, now that I am well acquainted with happiness! IT IS FUN! If you see me not being happy, please throw things at me. Or give me a kitten. Kittens usually do the trick.

The Day of Win

2009-08-01T16:07:00.003-05:00

Today has been awesome. I played my daddy in tennis, and lost again, 2-6. We got 1-3 into the second set before he got too hot and I started having an oxygen shortage, and had to call it quits. But it was fun. And amazing. And I'm totally getting out of the rustiness that I've been in.

And then I got to murder grass for the first time in my life! WOO! I have always secretly been jealous of the people who get to mow lawns, because, being asthmatic and very much allergic to grass, I was never really fit to do so.

But we've got a big ol' John Deere with a mower deck, and, being my daddy's little girl and having a love of tractoring, he taught me to mow the lawn today! It was fun! And loud! I had to wear giant red earmuffs to keep the sound out. And I managed to not hit the fence or any trees or one of the dogs. Or the chicken coop. That would have been hilariously disastrous, though...

Anyway, hooray for murdering grass! I didn't do the whole yard, because we have a rather big yard and I'm still tuckered out from tennis. And the vibrations of the tractor running at 2500 rpm were making my feet fall asleep. But now my daddy and I can share the chore of mowing the grass once my mom's done with the push mower for the year. (She bags the grass clippings to put in her garden to keep the weeds down. The crop of rotten hay worked wonders in the gardening department, so it wasn't a total loss.)

And I even got some packing done for when I go back to school! And my most awesome roomie may have found us a mold-free apartment to move into. I wish I could be there to visit places with her, but I trust her judgment.

I think I might experiment with this green curry paste we've got tonight, too...

Hooray! Day of win!

No Matter How Hard I Try...

2009-07-29T21:31:00.002-05:00

My friends just seem to be drifting away. They kept promising to hang out with me this summer, kept telling me they missed me while I was at school, kept in touch while I was gone, and now I'm home... where are they? They don't call, and don't answer their phones when I call. They're always either working or hanging out with other people. They keep promising to introduce me to their new friends, keep telling me we'd get along great, but I still have no proof that these other friends even exist. They tell me they miss me, and still come to me for advice or to vent or to squeal about something great that happened, but when I want to go to them for any of the same reasons, they're rarely ever there.

I have no job. I don't go anywhere or do anything because I don't drive and all of my other friends are in other parts of the country. I'm free all the time, all they have to do is give me a call or drop by whenever they've got the time, and they never do.

All I want are for the days when they would drop by out of the blue just to give me a hug and chat for a few minutes, the days when they wouldn't take no for an answer and made sure we got to spend time together at least once every other week. I just want someone to drop by every now and then to take a walk around the hay field or through the creek with me, to pick me up every now and then for a tennis match or a bit of soccer, or to go visit them to have a movie night or simply sit and talk. Just when they were finally starting to realize how insecure I am, just when their persistence was finally starting to pay off and the mask was starting to fall away, just after they'd promised to always be there for me like I've always been there for them... they're just... gone.

And it's so... frustrating. I miss them, I really do. They were the ones who were part of the popular crowd but still chose to spend time with me. They had so many other friends, so many people who wanted to hang out with them, and they chose me. I don't know why, and I can't explain it, because I never felt like I was worth their friendship.

But now they're drifting away, and I'm coming to terms with myself, and I hate myself for sometimes thinking that no, it was never that I didn't deserve their friendship, it was them that didn't deserve mine. Because I promised myself I'd never let anything come between us, and I stuck by that promise because they're wonderful people and I love them so... but I'd never anticipated that they'd be the problem.

I missed them so much, and I came home to spend my summer feeling lonely and rejected.

This wasn't what I'd planned, it isn't what I want, and it sure as heck wasn't what they promised.

Maybe I shouldn't have been such a good friend. Maybe then, I wouldn't feel like I've been taken for granted, ignored until something is needed.

Weather, Oh Weather, You Fickle Thing

2009-07-28T15:02:00.003-05:00

The weather needs to make up its mind! I was outside, ready to tromp down the hill and visit the creek, when the sky gets all dark and there's thunder in the distance.

Okay. Scratch that plan. I don't particularly want to be struck by lightning.

So I come inside, sit down, hop onto AQWorlds for lack of anything better to do, and not five minutes later the freaking sun is out.

What's going on?!?!?!

And now my mom's home from her errand, which means any attempt to go outside will be thwarted with vegetable washing. Sigh... Such is life.

SUMMER!

2009-07-27T18:18:00.002-05:00

My summer has finally arrived. Yes, I know it's the last week of July, but seriously, the ninety degree weather should have been here sooner.

But curse my mother's injury! (Never pull a dull knife on a large zucchini. They fight back.) I had to spend much of the afternoon inside helping her with the freezing of shredded zucchini for muffins throughout the next year.

I did take the basketball out for a bit and spend some time shooting hoops by myself. One thing I miss from gym class in high school is definitely round robin basketball, where we'd be on teams of twos and play mini games against other teams. It was great because I love basketball and I'm actually fairly good at it, but I was consistently overlooked or ignored when we played other team sports. When you've got teams of two, no one can be ignored. Quite often I proved my worth. It was fabulous. I won't play basketball with my family, though, because they're sore losers, smug winners, and far too tall in comparison to me. It's near impossible to get the ball over their heads with any accuracy.

Later on I went out and romped with the dogs a bit. They were all excited to be played with, but the best temperature for me is too hot for them. I had a uStream going, but no one came to watch, so the romping went unwitnessed. There was a lot of chasing, because Barney won't give you the ball once he's gotten it, and he didn't feel like chasing it, so when Sheba got it, he quickly snatched it from her. Oh, the privileges of being the alpha. I did get to throw the ball a few times, and it went pretty far despite being soaked through with dog slobber. (Note: Far is a relative term... relative to how far I can usually throw it, which isn't very far at all.)

So, yeah. Not much to do yet, but my summer is here! I must take advantage of it! Contemplating doing some stargazing tomorrow night. Might even trudge down the hill to the creek to do so.

Also, I've had this song stuck in my head since my dentist's appointment today in which, instead of being lectured on how I need to floss more, I was congratulated on my dental hygiene! WOO! I did good!

Odd Lightning

2009-07-25T20:01:00.002-05:00

I've seen a lot of thunderstorms in my life. I've also seen a lot of odd lightning. No, ball lightning doesn't make that list. I've never seen it.

However, I did just see the fattest bolt of lightning I've ever seen. Just now. Tonight. Why does the thunder growl at me? I know not. Back to the lightning.

Lightning bolts. They're kinda skinny and fork around the sky.

This one came nearly straight down. You could barely see the forking because it was so fat. If I had been holding my pinky finger up and comparing it to the lightning bolt as it struck whatever it struck, it would have appeared the same width as my pinky finger. (Keep in mind the whole perspective thing. Of course that bolt was actually fatter than my pinky. But still. Wow.)

I've never seen such a fat lightning bolt before. I've seen them repeatedly strike the same spot in the horse field. (One of these times was while I was standing on my porch in bare feet. Ow, secondary shock.) I've seen an entire storm's worth of lightning strike the sand on Assateague Island, but not a one hit any of the campers parked in the Bull Pen. (I've also seen the chunks of glass that are a result of said storms. Very neat.) I've seen lightning in every color of the rainbow, from red all the way down to purple. (Assateague thunderstorms again... they're just so fascinating, albeit terrifying.) I have seen lightning make interesting shapes and go sideways just under the clouds. I've also seen all the more common sorts of lightning, of course.

But really... fat lightning?

Medieval Times!

2009-07-18T17:03:00.004-05:00

I was kidnapped to Medieval Times last night. It was amazing, if I do say so myself. I'll have pictures eventually, once I get them onto my computer, because my mom's camera is a silly Kodak thing.

Anyway, it was great. I was the first in line! I've NEVER been first in line for ANYTHING! I got a smoothie (which I'm not a big fan of) in a novelty cup that's all shiny and shaped like a knight's head (which I am a huge fan of). I felt like a zombie while drinking my smoothie. It was fabulous. I didn't get knighted, because it was expensive to do so, and I didn't get a picture in front of the green screen, also because it was expensive. I didn't care then, and I don't care now.

We got to sit around a huge arena, and I was in the blue section, and therefore, supposed to cheer for the blue knight. He was a lousy knight. Not only did he fail to throw a flower to me (it was my birthday!), he threw one to the drunk woman sitting three seats to the right. And then he got his butt kicked in all the competitions. I know, I know, it's all choreographed and everything, but he could have at least done better in the non-fighting parts! Or fallen off his horse a little more spectacularly. The red knight was excellent at falling off his horse.

Anyway, it was fun. There was a conflict and a mean, evil green knight. He kicked some major butt. And I feasted!

The feasting was awesome. All the food was excellent, which surprised me, because I was getting the mystery vegetarian meal. I'm pretty sure most of it was vegan, as well. There was some sort of rice, grain, and vegetable pilaf thingy on a portabella mushroom cap, a vegetable kebob that was AMAZING, and hummus with some sort of crunchy crackery thing that my friend said tasted like pita, just... crunchier. The tomato bisque soup was amazing, too. The non-vegan garlic bread and apple turnover were also amazing. It was all fresh-cooked and delicious.

Everything was great. I want to go again sometime. It's expensive, but you get more than your money's worth.

And then, this morning, I got to play my first tennis match in over a year. Against my daddy, who had never played tennis before. I got my butt kicked, 1-6, 2-6. It was amazing. A happy birthday to me, indeed!

I Am Not A Terrible Person: This I Know

2009-07-15T22:47:00.002-05:00

Grrr.... I hate arguing with myself like this. I really do. But I suppose it can't be helped.

The source of this arguing?

Well, my youngest brother, really. I just don't want to be around him. I don't want to see him or hear him or otherwise be aware of his presence.

It's less fear now and more... what's the word for it? I suppose it's sort of like a feeling that I, personally, am better off without him.

It certainly isn't good for me to sit around and hear him talk about how he's completely in the right to hit anyone when they do something he considers wrong. From splashing him accidentally with a bit of water, as in my case, or playing a video game without following his precise instructions, as in the case of my other brother.

He is completely convinced he can do no wrong. I am completely convinced that if this keeps up, he'll end up in jail one day.

Ugh, what happened to my youngest brother? What happened to the kid who was sad and alone and scared and angry and just wanted to be appreciated and feel loved? What happened to the younger sibling who was just like me when I was his age? Is that how I could have turned out if life thus far had gone differently for me? Could I have gotten on that road to becoming a violent person with a skewed sense of right and wrong?

How the heck did that happen to him?! He seemed just fine at Christmas, even better than usual, even! What happened in those four months of my spring semester to make him turn out like this?

And now I'm arguing with myself because I think he deserved a broken rib and only ended up with a bruised chest cavity wall. But there's still this little part of me that's going, "How can you even think such a thing?! You're a terrible person!"

I'm sure those thoughts will even out eventually to a happy medium. I'm just really peeved and need to not be here. I'm glad I've only got a month more before I go back to school. Just one month. I was so much happier being away from my family, and I'm tired of being consistently angry and irritated with them. I'm tired of them unintentionally making me feel like a terrible person and intentionally disregarding me in making decisions that directly affect everyone living under this roof.

And I'm so tired of my brother acting like he's better than me and can do whatever he wants, including hurting me.

The negativeness floating around these people makes it hard for me to stay happy, but I refuse to spend too much time being otherwise. I worked hard for my happiness, took chances I never thought I'd take, and learned things I'd never thought I would learn, and I refuse to give it all up in the face of the family that's kept me oppressed for so long.

I love them all dearly, (with the current exception of my youngest brother... I'm iffy on him at the moment) but I can't stand to stay here much longer.

Look out world, here I come, and I'm breaking free of the mold you've tried to cast me in.

COOKIES!

2009-07-15T14:23:00.002-05:00

I'm in a baking mood. I don't even want the cookies, I just want to bake!

Mom's rating of my Peanut Butter Cookies?

PERFECT!

And Mom used to be a baker.

Thumbs!

2009-07-13T20:14:00.002-05:00

I'm in a drawing mood, and I have this clear, crisp image of one of my characters, Aira, in my head. She's dancing gleefully in my head, and so I want to draw her. Now, I'm a doodler and an observational drawer. I am quite bad at drawing anything as complex as a person, let alone one dancing, when that person (or a picture of said person) is not right in front of me. Here's where I'm at now... I started with a stick figure.

I'm sure my proportions are off, and well, yeah. It's not very good. But look at it again and see if you can guess what it is that makes me happiest.

No?

It's a little hard to tell, but I got the thumbs on the proper sides of her hands! And I didn't even think about it! YAY! That makes me very happy. I can put the thumbs where they belong.

Going Herbal?

2009-07-08T19:12:00.002-05:00

I've been doing research for my writing. I have an elfin healer in a world parallel to, yet extremely similar to our own. He must know his craft, and so I must know his craft, and thus the research began.

I've started with a book called The Family Herbal by Barbara and Peter Theiss. It's really informative, and easy to understand, and just about everything in it is useful to my purpose.

But I'm starting to think about my own trials with chemical medications, and how I've been living while constantly feeling out of sorts. And now I'm starting to consider going herbal. I like herbal teas, and so should be able to use them without gagging.

Not to mention that a huge number of specific cases mentioned in the book resemble myself at this moment.

For now, I'm considering Swedish Bitters. It could help my stomach problems and return my energy to me that has been gone since I got mono over Christmas break. Even if I don't take it internally, I sure get bit by enough bugs and have enough acne trouble to want to keep it on hand. More and more, it's seeming like a good idea, and I think I might find a place that sells some already prepared and give it a try.

I'm Glad I Stuck Around...

2009-07-05T15:34:00.004-05:00

So I'm playing AdventureQuest Worlds, and getting myself helplessly lost in the marsh. I tend to pay attention to the chat, and saw the following:

Person 1: Uhh.....HELP

Person 1: please help?

I see this a lot. People fighting a boss need help beating it. Well, since people have aided me in my pleas for help, and I happened to stumble across this person looking at their monster waiting for help, I decided, why not? There was another person there, too, but apparently they hadn't started fighting.

So I attack the monster, thinking this would be their cue to join in. Person 2 managed to jump in at the end for a hit or two, but I pretty much kicked monster butt and moved on, because I'm working on my own quests here.

Now, being lost, I was about to teleport via map to the beginning of the marsh to un-lose myself, but Istuck around just long enough to see this pop into the chat:

Person 1: What the??? What just happened?

Person 2: a girl just came and beat it.

Person 1: a girl

Person 2: no a half girl

Person 3: go girl!

Person 2: xD

Yep. Believe it boys, a girl just beat your boss.

MMORPG has stolen my free time.

2009-07-02T22:26:00.002-05:00

And I have way too much free time.

Anyway, I was convinced that I should play an online game with someone. There was only one free one I could find that we could both play. Silly Macness, silly Windowness, can't you just get along?

Anyway, I've fallen in love with AdventureQuest Worlds! It's silly, doesn't hurt my eyes with strange attempts at good graphics (this one's kinda anime-esque), and is just challenging enough to keep me interested without pushing me away out of frustration.

I like it. I started off my heroic journey by falling comically down the side of a mountain. I then proceeded to save the dragon from the princess. And then, amidst a town overrun with the undead, I collected slime goo pizza sauce. Fun, and silly!

Best of all, the overarching story type thing seems to involve "The 13 Lords of Chaos!" I like Chaos. However, this blog does not like that number, so I shall ignore it.

HAIR!!!

2009-07-02T11:00:00.004-05:00

I love Dawn. She's the nice lady who cuts my hair. She's MAGIC. I had a grand image in my head, and some pictures, and some bad explanations, and though it's not what I had in mind, really, It's still AMAZING. I love my hair. I never used to love it until it met Dawn.

The feeling of bangs is something that'll take some time getting used to. But I wanted something different, and having bangs is different, considering it's been YEARS since I last let them be anything but the longest part of my hair.

I gave her two pictures and a rough description of short in back (very short), chin length in front of ears, and bangs that fall to my nose.

She gave me this:

Thunder

2009-06-30T21:21:00.001-05:00

The thunder sounds different. It's rolling across the sky like it did in the mountains, but we're not in the mountains, and it's never rolled like this before around here.

I'm not sure I want to know why it's different...

Thriller Shivers

2009-06-28T21:18:00.003-05:00

I should know better. I really should. I experience highly irrational fear while my brain is wearily admonishing me for doing so.

I should really know better by now than to read murder mysteries late at night. I'm getting the shivers. Chills. Goosebumps. Soon I'll be having paranoia about sugar (it was poisoned in the book) and nightmares.

The nightmares are the worst. I hate them, because they're all the more scary for being highly irrational.

Honestly, I should know better than this!

Fear of Thirteen

2009-06-25T22:29:00.001-05:00

In honor of the name of this blog, this, the thirteenth post, does not exist.

Thank you for your cooperation.

Grr... Argh... Monday

2009-06-15T21:00:00.002-05:00

Cold.

Tired.

Sunburned.

Cat vomit.

Chasing dogs that won't come when called because no one but me bothers to train them properly.

Fighting a scanner to update my comic.

Grumpy mother.

All before I'd had a chance to get out of my pj's.

Then allergy testing.

No lunch.

Two hours.

Stuck 30 times with pins laced with allergens.

Burning and itching so bad the pain made me cry.

Fifteen needles to inject more allergens under my skin.

Pain, pain, and more pain.

Splitting headache.

Nausea.

So tired.

Trouble with prescriptions.

Can't find things.

Brother angry.

Mom smoking in the car and house again.

I'm just so tired.

I hate Mondays.

Twitter!

2009-06-14T12:51:00.002-05:00

I has a Twitter! Follow me and my random updatiness. Because that's really all that it will be for... keeping people up to date when I update things. When I post a comic, write something, etcetera... I will Twitter it. Woot!

http://twitter.com/Kinkatia

Safari 4 Problem.... SOLVED!

2009-06-13T21:10:00.005-05:00

I love my Macbook. I love surfing the web with Safari. Firefox annoys me because Safari is much better.

Then Safari refused to open. It happened after a software update, and I was very confused. At first, Safari would quit unexpectedly when I opened a third tab. Then the second. Then in I navigated away from my email. Then during the process of launching.

Yeah. That was a problem. Reinstalling didn't work, either.

Then I found this! The problem was he AcidSearch plugin that was already added to Safari when I got my Macbook. It was incompatible! Wow! And this guy knew how to get rid of it! So... I trashed the AcidSearch, reinstalled Safari again, as I was in the process of doing that anyway, and started her up!

Guess what?

I'm typing this using my beloved Safari, who had an upgrade, too! Neat!

So, yeah, hopefully if anyone out there having this problem finds this, it will be of some help. Meanwhile, I'll be re-familiarizing myself with my favorite web browser.

Spiders... Yikes!

2009-06-10T22:41:00.004-05:00

So I can't seem to shake my fear of spiders.

I'm trying, I really am. I used to be able to hold them, sometimes, and I'm perfectly fine when I run into them outdoors so long as they don't surprise me by dropping out of nowhere. I know this fear is irrational. I've had a total of one bad experience with a spider, and that was when I was little and stepped on one only for her babies to scatter everywhere like a swarm.

So why is that, about ten years after that frightening encounter, my fear of spiders is suddenly spiking? It's getting worse.

Argh!

I blame Chicago. Spiders should not be capable of infiltrating ninth floor rooms. They really shouldn't.

I want this fear gone... maybe I should get a pet spider?

No, wait, I had one once... his name was Fred, and he lived in my window for three years. Then three other spiders moved in and ate him. Poor Fred. (This was just as I was gathering the courage to open the window and remove him to the outdoors, too.) Fred was a freakishly interesting spider. I never was able to identify him. The spiders that moved in and ate him were the normal freakish one-red-hourglass-away-from-being-black-widows spiders. Not like Fred, who was colorful and had stripes and didn't build big webs like the other spiders.

One of those spiders ate the other two sometime while I was in Chicago. It was the one that had me squirming and wanting to run as my mother was getting the pesky things out of my windows so I could open them and let the nice fresh air into my room for the first time in years.

Yeah. Years. Spiders in the windows. Fear, terror. Something must really be done about this.

Hello, Confidence!

2009-05-31T22:01:00.004-05:00

Have you ever had a moment when you were trying really hard to accomplish something and do it well, and weren't sure you were succeeding?

Have you ever had that moment come to a sudden and exhilarating end when you came to the realization that yes, yes you really did it! You nailed it!

Yeah, I've had those. Once during this past semester while participating in a performance of Dr. Horrible's Sing-A-Long Blog, and once today.

Here's the story:

I love tractors. A lot. Think of that country song, "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy." Almost like that, but not quite. Every time we pass one, I watch it until it's out of sight. Sometimes I squeal happily. I own two John Deere hats, showing my allegiance to my favorites.

And today, for the second time in my life, I got to drive a tractor.

It's been obvious since my daddy got his bailing equipment that he can't handle the whole process himself. So I started pestering him to teach me. Last summer, he taught me how to rake the hay. I only did a little, because I was too nervous to go fast, and the sun was sinking, but it was exhilarating. I took to it right away.

Today, I got to rake an entire field. By myself. Granted, our fields are small, (and this one is technically the neighbors, but he gets it cut for free if we can keep all we bail, since he doesn't use it for anything.) but still... I did it by myself.

It was rough going, because the ground is uneven and there are a ton of groundhog holes. My daddy was watching me for a while, but didn't stop me to correct any mistakes I might have been making.

And then, it happened. I glanced up as I turned and started up the hill to where my dad had been sitting, only to see him walking back to the house!

He trusted me enough to finish it up without his supervision. I was doing well.

Needless to say, I couldn't stop grinning.

It was fun, AND I did a good job. I love how these simple things make my confidence soar through the o-zone layer. It's amazing.

And I get to do it again, unsupervised, tomorrow! And BOTH fields!

Conundrum

2009-05-21T20:13:00.003-05:00

This. Is. Not. Fair.

I needed to get home. I needed out of the city and back to the farm before I lost my sanity. And I've been here less than a week, and I'm already feeling the familiar clouds of depression rolling in.

I repeat:

This. Is. Not. Fair.

I've been so happy! It's been great! I'm home! Things are green, skies are blue, my animals all love me, but I can't help but be gloomy and sad and want to sleep all day...

I hate this. I hate that my family does this to me. I love them all dearly, but to come back to the same thing I'd been living in for my entire life, all the tension, the negativity, the laziness and impatience... it's just too much. It's not the kind of environment I need, and I can't get away from it. Where would I go? I'm attached to this place, but the people here are quickly becoming the bane of my existence. I've struggled so hard and so long to pull myself out of the depression I'd been living in for most of my life, and after a few tentative steps in the glorious light of day, night is falling upon me once more.

And I hate it.

I need to be here, and I need to be away, and no matter what, I'm losing.

Confidence Rising!

2009-05-12T15:06:00.004-05:00

I've always been lacking in confidence in my fiction. I love to write it, but I never felt I was any good at it.

Then today, an amazing person, whom I respect and admire greatly, said exactly what I needed to hear to give me an exceptional confidence boost.

He read three short stories I wrote in a week and edited as best I could within that time frame. They aren't perfect. I still have to work on them.

And he said that they were some of the best short stories he's read in a long time.

My jaw wanted to drop. Instead, I suppressed a grin. I've been bouncing since.

I think it's about time I got serious and tried to get something published.

Wish me luck!

Cars, Cars, Cars

2009-05-04T22:49:00.003-05:00

So I'm having trouble getting home at the end of the semester. My parents gave me very little notice about the whole "We know we said we'd come get you, but we changed our minds" thing. I have clothing and an accordion to bring home. Not to mention a giant sketchbook, and I kinda wanted to work on getting brakes installed on my bike over the summer.

It's an 11 to 13 hour drive from Chicago to Maryland. I don't drive.

Crud.

People said, "Take a plane!" No thank you. I'd have to check the accordion, and it's an antique, so if anything gets broken, it can't be replaced. I can't afford a new accordion, and I'll be lucky to find one like mine, sounding of salt water and wind. Plus, the sketchbook creates a problem. Not to mention the fact that I don't have suitcases and can't afford to get any.

So they said, "Take a train!" No way. I can barely handle flying alone, and that's just a two hour flight with about an hour of time alone in scary airports. It will take at least 17 hours on a train to get home. I still don't have luggage, and I've never traveled by train before. Can anyone say panic attack? Do. Not. Want.

I tried finding a few friends who drive and live in the Chicago area that wanted to get out of the city for a few days and would be willing to transport me. Three people would be enough to make the drive in one shot. Reasons for a one shot drive? Well... I'm a terrible traveler. I get cranky, and become quite an irritation. Not to mention being on the road freaks me out. Why?

I'm afraid of cars. I'm usually okay being in them over familiar and short distances with a driver I trust behind the wheel. Longer distances freak me out. I don't like walking near roads because I'm jumpy and paranoid enough to think every passing car could swerve off the road and hit me.

And I most certainly do NOT want to learn to drive. The last thing the world needs is a person afraid of cars behind the wheel of one.

But I'm going to have to learn to drive. I cannot be stranded in the city. It's driving me nuts being here, and I direly need to get home ASAP.

Crud. Also, I realized tonight that the reason I've been anxious for the past week is because a week ago I made this decision. Double crud. This is going to end badly.

Ugh.

2009-04-25T23:45:00.004-05:00

Today was kinda terrible in a There's-nothing-you-can-do-about-it way. It's because my stupid hormones are imbalanced or something, forcing me to take birth control pills which tell my period to stop once in a while so I don't bleed to death or die of anemia.

But why do I have to suffer such miserable side affects? Where did my quiet, pain-free menstrual cycles go?

And why can't my intestines make up their mind about whether to escape through my esophagus or my vagina?

Ugh...

White Noise... It's Inescapable

2009-03-26T22:48:00.004-05:00

So, I've been having this irritating problem since I came to Chicago for school. Chicago is not a small semi-rural neighborhood. It isn't a town with only a feed supply store and a post office to its name. It isn't my farm.

It seems very obvious that I was going to have some adjusting to do. Culture shock, as they say. It happens. Well, besides the outlandish prices for food (which I soundly conquered with Aldi and The Egg Store. I can now feed myself for cheaper than I did back home in Maryland.), I thought I adjusted pretty well.

Wait... did I mention the noise yet?

That has been the biggest problem facing me in adjusting to Chicago. It's never quiet here. I thought the tree frogs during summer nights were loud. But no... they aren't loud at all. Chicago... yes, Chicago is loud. Unnaturally so.

When I mentioned that it was really loud all the time, that it gave me horrific headaches and kept me from sleeping well, people insisted I'd adjust. It would take a few weeks, a month at most.

Well, here I am in my second semester, and my headaches are worse than ever. My ears are hurting fairly frequently as well, and ringing more often than I feel comfortable dealing with. And the sound has not gone away.

People would ask me what it was specifically that I wasn't adjusting to. That was a difficult question, one that I couldn't quite answer... especially when it came to noises at night. Traffic near the dorms is at a minimum at night. The train and bus stop eventually for the night... what was it that was bothering me so?

And the other day, as I was half asleep walking to class, it hit me. There is a sound always there, always present, and much too loud for comfort. It sounds like traffic, but not like traffic; like wind but not quite; like waves crashing, but with an irregularity and consistency that was unlike waves.

It sounded exactly like that accursed noise I've encountered far too often in waiting rooms and that people kept telling me to listen to so I could sleep. That noise that drives me batty and makes my ears feel like they're bleeding. White noise.

Chicago is a giant white noise generator. All the traffic, all the people, all the electricity buzzing and humming... it all merges together into an indistinguishable mass of white noise. And it's because of this that others can deal with the city sounds just fine.

Because, you see, it's so dang loud that it makes just about every other noise (like rush hour traffic ten feet away from where you're standing) sound much quieter. In comparison, all those individual city noises are very bearable. Very... not loud. And people just adjust to this white noise in the background. They tune it out and go on their merry ways, content with the fact that their ears aren't crying out in distress.

Too bad I can't handle white noise, huh?

BANG! CRASH! BOOM!

2009-03-09T22:28:00.003-05:00

THUNDERSTORMS!!!!

Yes. Thunderstorms. I have an interesting relationship with thunderstorms. One interesting in such a way that it confounds people who haven't been around me during thunderstorms before.

I LOVE thunderstorms. They are absolutely beautiful, a display of the sheer force and fury of nature. The thunder is music to my ears, the lightning art that lasts but a moment, no more. There's just something inside of me that feels so profoundly connected with those storms.

But that's only when the sun is up. Once it gets dark, I'm reduced to a cowering ball of terror huddled in the nearest corner to the basement door under a blanket. At night, thunderstorms scare the socks off me.

There's actually a reason for this, you know. I'm not just crazy. Well, I may be, but that's got nothing to do with this fear of mine that sets in come nightfall. Many years ago, there was a horrific, terrifying thunderstorm. And it was so beautiful. Lightning flashing nigh constantly, often striking the ground. Wind howled mournfully, threateningly. Thunder growled like a beast stalking its prey. I was enthralled.

Then I went to bed. I started to get a bad feeling. The wind took on a different sound, and suddenly I knew. Something was wrong. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. I knew there was a tornado. I could hear it. I was too terrified to even move out from under my blanket.

It passed. It passed so near my house that it's a miracle it didn't touch us. And ever since, once the sun goes down, I can't enjoy thunderstorms. I just can't. Can't even sleep through the thunder.

Though I must admit, this last one had a wonderfully hilarious thunder crash that sounded like a building falling and set off ALL the car alarms in the city.

Horrible Happenings

2009-03-06T21:52:00.006-06:00

So, I have terrible stage fright. And I mean terrible. As in, I have had panic attacks and asthma attacks due to said panic attacks. Not fun.

But I LOVE acting! I love performing! Heck, I even love to torment people with my caterwauling!

And so you see my dilemma. What to do, what to do... well, being the masochist I tend to be, I keep on getting myself involved in theater. Why? I don't really know. The last two times, I nearly panicked, and spent the hours before the performances thinking over and over again, "Why am I doing this?!?!"

However, this was different. It wasn't a dramatic reading of something neat. It wasn't a short one-act. It was a full-blown musical.

So, why did I do this to myself? This time, I can actually answer that question. Said musical would be a live rendition of "Dr. Horrible's Sing-a-Long Blog."

I will admit it up front. I am a fan. A giant fan. So much of a fan that before auditions even rolled around, I'd memorized just about the entire thing. All 45 minutes of it. At this point, after five weeks of rehearsals, you could give me any line of dialogue or song, and I'd be able to pick it right up and keep going. With enthusiasm, no less.

So I tried out, secretly wanting to be Penny. Her songs are smack dab in the middle of my horrific vocal range, meaning that I can actually sing them well. No split eardrums. Good times. I didn't get that part, but I was accepted into the Chorus. Namely, the Bad Horse Chorus. This made me very happy, as I adore singing the Bad Horse songs. I also got the part of the Newswoman in Act 3, and sung backup in the final song of the entire performance.

So, we have five weeks of practices. The main cast has trouble memorizing lines, parts get shifted around, I find myself with two days to get a costume together, and Ragu, our director, gets increasingly irritated...

And we perform. There are some screw-ups, as is to be expected in pulling off a musical with only five weeks of rehearsals. And they were only twice a week rehearsals at that. The Bad Horse songs could have been better. But when Michaela and I went on stage and started off Act 3, we were both jittery and nervous. We say our lines just right, and when it comes our turn to sing in "Perfect Story..." We looked up to see Ragu grinning. Ragu does not grin all that often while we're singing. When Ragu grins... that means you've just nailed it! That put me at ease. Stage fright flew away! I'm still giddy over it, and very excited for the second performance tomorrow. Hooray for me! Hooray for us all!

And hopefully, this victory over stage fright is permanent, and not just a fleeting blessing.