Well, here I am. People who know me love me whether they like it or not. It's a burden since I dislike most people. You can find My actual Life HERE. I have many fandoms, and many likes but I have yet to find passion in a past time. You are welcome as long as you behave.
I figure as long as STAN can live here, I can too. Here's round two.
It's saturday evening. I'm sitting at the computer, enduring joint pain brought on by the rain and an excellent day at the zoo.
I woke up to rain this morning and thought that the plan my sister and I had made for the zoo was shot. I was about 2 hours before we were scheduled to meet though and mother nature graced us with an end to the rain. We had lovely temperature and no crowds due to the showers in the morning. We went over every exhibit except the petting zoo. My nephews were pretty good all day, and we spent like 6 hours at the zoo. It was so much fun.
After the zoo, we did a small amount of shopping and I ran by my house to drop off my stuff. I hung out with Jordan for almost an hour, and it was kind of nice. I miss him, and I miss my dog. I showed up this morning to hang out with my dog, and Jordan was up to take them out. It shocked me... It was like 9 am. He sleep til 2 pm most days. he was just getting up to let the dogs out, and I'm glad to know that he's been doing that. I was worried that they'd be spending a lot more time in their crates since I left.
I went out with Lacy last night, and I'm heading out with some other friends tonight. I think I might need a nap first though.
Once I made it back to Liz's house, it started pouring. Nice of it to wait. I appreciated that.
When I was a kid, this series of books and dolls came out the were called "American Girls." One of them was name Molly. She was a WWII era girl who wore pigtail braids and glasses. I have been given the books in both hard and paperbacks. I have never even opened any of them. That has nothing to do with anything. I was just staring at my bookself and noticed them. My grandmother on my mother's side gave them to me. I never got the doll. I guess that's probably due to two reasons. 1) I don't like dolls and 2)my grandmother doesn't really care for me.
Sometimes I feel like I'm only real because someone told me I was. Kind of like that Velveteen Rabbit. I'm only real because 1 person loved me enough to tell me I so. Now that person grew up and left me to the reality they thrust upon me. I would rather have stayed a toy on the floor...
Alright, so that's probably more dire than my actual situation, but I'm prone to hyperbole. maybe it's not exageration, and I just don't want to face it.
I told my spouse that he was a bad husband, and that I didn't appreciate the way he has been treating me. We had a talk, resolved nothing and now he has moved himself into the guest room. We've barely been in each other's presence at all in the last week. My house is uncomfortable with strain and I wonder if I shouldn't just let him run off and be a fucking whatever it is he wants. He doesn't want to put any effort into being married. I'm frustrated, and if I were giving advice to someone not me, I'd tell her to get the fuck out at this point. It's different when it's me...
I've been seeking advice from trusted friends, and none of them have any. I'm thinking of just moving out for a couple of weeks. Putting a bit of distance between us. It may tip the scales one way or the other.
I don't really post much right now because this is consuming my brain, and I get tired of whining about it over and over.
i'm so angry at myself. I'm angry I didn't see it until it was too late. I'm angry I can't figure out what to do, and I'm angry that I don't want to be without him. I don't want to be alone. But what's the difference, I'm alone if he's here. I'm alone if he's gone.
Most of it is coming from me.
Before I rant: Petie I have news of the DREAM.
I am completely out of whack lately and I am angry and sad and disappointed all the time. I smile, a lot. It takes a lot of effort and I'm fucking exhausted.
John takes his final vows on Aug 24th. He gives himself completely and permentently to his vocation. It's kind of a big deal. Jordan is not going with me to see it. I have not received a "no" yet. That won't come until the week of. Right now, when I tell him we are still in the, "I don't know," stage and he'll put off telling me no until the day I leave, or maybe the day before. Can you see I've done this dance before? I know Jordan isn't Catholic. I know John is my brother, not necessarily his, bt fuck that bullshit. Hell, I'm hardly Catholic at this point, and it's important to my brother, it's important to my family and it's important to me. It's not like I'm trying to take this guy I just met to my sister's wedding and leave him in the front row by himself while I'm a bridesmaid... He has an established tie to these people and I want him to go. But he won't because nothing but his bike and his misery are important to him. Fuck him.
I told you, there's a lot of anger out there, and most of it is coming from me.
I'm angry at politics, I'm angry at business, I'm angry at econimcs, and many other things. I really, at this point, can barely wait until humanity destroys itself and takes me with it. I have been meaning for days to put a thoughtful post about my disillusionment with government and how they (as a whole, both and neither party in particular) enabled the entire sudden downturn in our economy and how we are suffering at the hands of our own leaders. And with that, I think I'm done cause it'll be a post of just magnitude no one will read it and I'll regret it forever. I'm tired of people keeping busy by LOOKING like they're doing things when, in actuality, they are doing their best to not do a goddamn thing because the status quo fucking suits them fine. Fuck them too.
I'm angry at my dog for being dunb and following my around like a baby duck and knocking all the shit on my table and shelves over. That's really just something random and I don't know how it made it into this post.
I'm angry at myself, mostly. I'm angry because I'm weak and unmotivated and I'm at a point in my life where a lot of shit frightens me. I'm leaving a lot to interpretation, and to overactive imagination, but I'm lost and I'm floundering around hopelessly trying to find my footing and the only sure thing I have is that I'm angry. Fuck me.
This is my blog (I hate that word) and it's the closest thing I have to a diary, but I'm careful and reckless of what I put here. I want to just vent and yell and scream and cry and just let all these awful feelings out, but then I'm whiney and a burden (not to mention emo). I want to keep them to myself, then I'm sullen and no one wants to be around me. I want to write about it and get the opinions of those that matter to me, but then my dirty laundry is out for all to see. I've never been able to effectively lean on my friends... Not until it's probably too late. Fuck me again...
My favorite children's book is The Velveteen Rabbit. I don't know why that important right now, but it is. it is not a metaphore for my feeling or anything pertaining to me at all... I just really like it and think it's a beautiful story, in a sad way.
Sunday morning is glorious, and sunday night is dreaded. It's 4:12 am and I am so tired, but I cannot sleep. I just want someone to punch me in the face until I pass out.
Jordan is sleeping on the bathroom floor after a night out, and I can't sleep at all. Life is a little ridiculous.
My car is super broken, and it's in the shop. I want it back soon. The truck is okay, but I miss my little car.
I wrote this a while ago and there is some more to it, but I'm only really close to satisfied with this first part. I really have no idea where it's going.
It's morning, and the sun has barely crossed the threshold of the horizon. The darkness that had enveloped me is receding and I roll over to find myself in unfamiliar, unexpected surroundings. A heavy room, the walls have a dark mauve silk papering. The draperies hang over the windows in a musty way that only time and neglect and produce. What am I doing here? More importantly how did I get here?
There's a knock at the door and an elderly woman enters. She has a stooped posture of someone who has know labor during her lifetime. However, when I look at her, her wrinkled face cannot hide the beauty it had once radiated. She says nothing to me as she lays fresh clothing on the bed, a pastel blue linen skirt and white blouse. Both are new and very expensive looking. Next to it she lays 2 clean towels. She stokes the fire in the hearth and closes the door as she leaves in silence.
As I leave the comforting embrace of the bed, I grow more fearful, as if I've just gone 3 steps closer to a precipice. I pick up the towels and open a door to my left. Behind it a find a large bathroom with a sunken tub and a separate upright shower. Feeling the need to both relax and try and take time to think about things, I opt for the tub. As the water runs, I reenter the bedroom for further exploration. The furniture is grand, but covered in a thick layer of dust. There are no pictures in the entire room. I find this fact to be quite unusual.
As I return to the tub, I take a moment to investigate myself in the glass. Long, chestnut hair, green eyes, the familiar nose I always thought was a little too big for my face. No doubt about it, it's me looking back. I undress and enter the hot water, entirely submerging myself, almost daring myself not to resurface. It's a long time before I do. As I sit in the tub, I try and jog some sort of recollection of how I may have arrived at this place. Thinking back , I remember nothing of note. Waking up, in my own bed, walking the dog. I remember mundane everyday actions, the routine my life has become. Suddenly I realize I don't know when it is either. How long have I been here?
My head swims as I leave my bath. I put on the clothes laid out for me. Whoever chose these items for me has very good taste, although not quite in line with my normal wardrobe of jeans and tank tops. I look for shoes, but I find none. As I walk across the room to open the door the woman had used to enter and leave, I hear a thud against the window. My destination changes as I quickly go to investigate the noise. I try and open the window, but either rust or welding holds it shut. As I look through the pane, I see birds. Large black birds circling in the sky, hundreds of them. The fear that gripped me as I left the bed has returned and I have second thoughts about leaving the room.
I return to the bed . There are 3 high backed chairs throughout the room, but I don't want to sit, I just want the comfort of familiarity, and the bed offers the closest thing to it. I pull my knees to my chest, making myself as small as possible. I wonder if I might cry. Suddenly the door opens and the woman returns. I wonder why she didn't knock this time.
“Excuse me,” the sound of my voice seems to startle us both. She looks at me as if seeing me for the first time. “How long have I been here?” She looks confused, so I try another question. “Where is am I?” She continues to stare, confusion turning to frustration. I give up, I lower my face to my knees and tears start to roll down my face. The woman seems more confounded than ever. She leaves the room in a hurry. Helplessness and dread linger in the atmosphere. Tears turn to exhaustion, and I sleep.
When I awake, the sun is high, but the room seems darker, colder. I steel my resolve and get out of bed. As I walk to the door, I am surprised to find it unlocked. It swings open easily and I escape my seemingly self-imposed prison. The hallway is dark, lamps creating random pools of light is either direction. The lush carpet on the floor tickles my feet as I decide on a direction to go.
Being out of the bedroom emboldens me, and I casually follow the hallway to
the left. I pass door after door, wondering to myself if there are other people in the rooms sharing my amnesia. It's dark so I guide myself by placing my hand on the wall. The whisper of my fingertips on the paper is hypnotic.
“Delilah, where are you going?” The familiarity of my own name was the only thing that made me pause. I did not recognize the voice that had delivered me the savory memory. I slowly turn around to face the man who knows me. He is tall and handsome, but he wears a sad demeanor. “Where are you going?”
