Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Day Four - Conversations of Distraction

I laid on my couch last night thinking about the last entry I made until around 2 am.

My mind kept jumping from topic to topic, but the top two that I kept going back to was how I wasn't pleased with that entry and how I hoped that my son wouldn't have one of his "LETS WAKE UP AT 4AM!!" moments. (he's teething, so you never know...)

I wasn't and still I'm not irritated with myself that I couldn't share certain things, I was annoyed by myself because I feel as though I negated the purpose of what I am doing. I feel back into my old routine.

A conversation of distraction.

I'm a writer for a reason. I have the ability of using words to show you a fantastical world of what I think you should see, which is a wonderful trait when used for writing fiction - not living life, so that is something I'm trying to re-wire. I'm a firm believer that being yourself, for yourself is a very important thing - but I don't like the fact that I run from intimacy or hide behind frustrated little moments that I create because I think that's what others want.

Not all change is a bad thing.
But I do think about what others think of me or want way to much.

If people think of me in reflection of their own life as much as I think of other people... let's just say, you think of me way to often.

When I leave this world, if I am remember at all, I would like it to be for something positive. I don't want to be remembered as someone that interlaced such an intricate web of words that it seemed woven like a silk blanket that felt so soft and nice on my life or yours when in reality it was never real. 

Maybe it's not the traditional sense of lying, but still, that doesn't make it right. 
I didn't start this to continue avoiding things, I started this to confront things in order to enjoy life. Truthfully and honestly. Not veiled in misconceptions and falsehoods. 

So as I was lying there, thinking and reading (well, sort of reading. I was thinking so much I had to re-read parts of the book) I fell upon something that made me stop and say - That's It! That's what I want to be doing in this blog. That is what I want to be doing right now.

It is one question you get to ask yourself and the answer should be an honest one. As honest as you can be. 

             If you had one year to live, how would you live it?

Would you do what you're doing now? 
Or is there something more you've been putting off because of this or that?

I can't give this a full 100%, which slightly defeats the purpose of the question - because if it really was my last year to live I'd pack up my things and hit the road. There is too much of this world I want to see, too much I still have to do or accomplish, too many people I haven't met, that sitting here wouldn't make me happy. 

I would finally buy that laptop I want, strap my son to my back and hit the road. (Don't worry, I'd take the hubby with me. But only if he wanted to go. The one thing I've learned about my husband over all these years is that he's becomes openly unhappy when forced to do things he doesn't want to.)


I can't do that. I can't sell my house and strap the kid to my back with my husband and a computer in tow as I gallivant across the fine shores of the world. I admit, even the thought of doing that makes my heart skip a beat and then pound a bit faster in my chest, but unless I had 100% compliance, it would make for a situation that was very much NOT how I would want to spend the last year of my life. 

What I can do is continue this, writing. I can also get our papers in order so if I did want to leave, even for a small trip, we could. (kinda let my passport laps... bad me!)

The two things hand in hand, even the thought of them, bring me ease.
First, to finish this blog, to remove all the crap I've been carrying for all these years. To finally have it all off my shoulders will be a wonderful thing, because then I can spend the rest of this year to thank the people I need to thank, ask forgiveness from the people that I hope will forgive me and finish my life how I should have been living it all these years. Instead of in fear and anger - happy. And second, to have things in order so that I don't have to worry about those material issues that are mundane and consume too much time. 

NOW! Where was I?

High School.

Even though bad things happened to me in grade school I can't say I was totally conscious of the world around me until high school. My "separation" from child to wanna be adult probably began when I was 12. I listed that age yesterday because of happy things that happened that year, but that was also the first time I ever told my mother to go stick it. 

We had a fight. Another fight. All we did was fight. When it ended she told me I was grounded. I told her to go to hell and walked out of the house. I made it 4 blocks to a pay phone, dialed up my friend and asked if I could hang out at his house for the day, explaining why, he said yes. 
I'm pretty sure we spent the afternoon playing Nintendo, probably Zelda or Mario Bros, and that's it. That's what we always did together. Play video games or chess. 

He was always a good friend. Always letting me hang out at his house even though he got crap for letting a "girl" crash when it was supposed to be boy time. I remember crashing on his living room floor once and waking to his older brother standing over me saying (half drunk), "so now we have girls sleeping over." I guess he had a point. Most days I went there we just hung out until 7 in the morning and then I went home. We never slept. Just talked. 

But high school came and since I've never really knew where to stand most days, we drifted apart, plus dating made things hard. 

I hated high school a whole big bunch, which showed, and it only got worse seeing that the administration really despised me. Even more after I was suspended. 
In 1993 most of my friends graduated, but I still had one year to go. I remember one of the guidance councilors looking at me, surprised, "You don't graduate this year?!" 

Way to read your files lady. 

The fact that I was fighting with my mom, (my mother and I have been fighting all of my life - it only calms down when we only speak a few times a month) but when I lived there and we fought it meant no one in my house was allowed to speak with me, that was a big no-no. Mom's ALWAYS right and if you didn't listen to her, you were in the dog house too. Added to that my antics at school - I hated everyone and figured everyone had it out for me - excluding a chosen few. 

The people I spent my time with were always in trouble - so I was in trouble by association. I didn't care. F'em! My mom would tell me how I thought I knew "everything" and I told her, numerous times, that I knew I didn't - I just knew more than her. (the fighting wasn't one sided)
I never got into drugs and I had stopped drinking after the summer between my sophomore/junior year. 

A girl I knew was raped at a party. I was at the party. I was in the next freaking room. She was so freaking drunk she wasn't coherent, and when they guy started bragging about it no one did a thing because she was one of "those" girls.

Oh sexism! If she would have been a guy everyone would have thought she was a god because she could get laid when she wanted to. The fact that she wasn't, meant no one did shit when it happened... That incident mixed with another chick I knew who gave up her virginity to some jerk for a 6 pack of beer... and what had happened to me when I was 16. (long and short of it - a guy pinned me down in a pool and did things to me)

I stopped drinking then for a long time. 
Started being the one that "took care" of people. Some of the places I partied at, that was what I was known for. If there was a beer wall, chances are in the middle of it you would find a can of Dr. Pepper (my favorite). 

My senior year I was alone at school. Most of my friends had graduated or they went to a different school, so I took the time to apply myself. Granted, I didn't have much of a choice. If I hadn't applied myself I would have not graduated and that sure as hell wasn't going to happen. I hated high school and I wanted out.

My GPA my senior year was 3.8 - turns out if I did the work I could accomplish a lot. This, too, became an issue because the staff thought I was cheating. I guess after 3 years of dealing with me only getting A's in Math and Art, they didn't believe it when I started acing all my other classes. To prove their point, they took away all of my free periods, I had to be with a teacher or in either the Dean's Office or the Chapel - unless I was in class or it was lunch period. But even then, when I was finished eating I was supposed to report to someone.

That was the year I learned about Herman Hess, Gustave Flaubert, Anton Chekhov, Franz Kafka, I also learned about the transformation of China from an empire to the communists republic it is today, Communism in general and Chemistry. Those three teachers I own everything to. 

When I graduated I cried. A few of my  friends poked fun at me - who cries at their high school graduation? I did, because I was so damn happy I would never have to set foot in that blasted building again. Never have to see those nuns that hated me. Never have to see my music teacher that had attempted to humiliate me in NYC at a music conference - he really hated the fact that I was in a marching band at a different school.

See, some of you make fun of marching band - you have no idea how cut throat a person in high school music can be.  I tried to quit music at my alma mater but he made it mandatory that if I wanted to play at the other school I had to be part of his orchestra too. The same thing happened with our drama club - but that didn't last. She tried to have me kicked out of the other drama program I was in, but couldn't seeing that my school didn't offer the stage crew experience like they did at the other school. 

When I was a kid I thought that people grew up to be nice and kind. I thought that being petty was something you out grew, like sneakers or hating brussel sprouts.

Just one of the many things I was wrong about. 

When she couldn't have me kicked off the other schools stage she accused me of plagiarism. When I beat her charges, she tried to flunk me in speech.
And when that didn't happen, she just ignored the fact that I ever existed.

I was on facebook the other day - her named popped up under the "people you may know" list - I just laughed. 


  1. I spent far too many days and nights in that house with the drunk older brother! Haha! That brought back some old memories...

    I feel like a douche, that I didn't know about what happened to you at 16...I'm sorry...

    I do remember some of those problems with your school...Ahhh now it's no more...Well maybe a new version of evil.

  2. I've often driven past that house and thought, if it ever went up for sale, I'm SO buying it! Hahaha...
    That house was my safe house for most of my life, until the divorce. But by then he wasn't at that house

    There was no reason you would have known about that, so you are not allowed to feel like that! I talk about the situation more now than I did back then (not the details, just that it happened) - because I find that people think things like that only happen when you're drunk. Which they do, but the 2 times I had something happened to me like that I was sober.

    When you're female and you offer to listen to a guys problems, a lot of times that guy will thinks you're coming on to him.

    The older I get the more I don't offer a shoulder because I've grown so tired of what people assume I'm offering myself up. When in reality all I'm saying is "you can cry on my shoulder." I'm NOT saying, with our clothes off screwing. But most don't get that.
    Most don't understand the difference.

    If there was ever one thing in this world I could change.
    That would be it.

  3. I hate to sell-out the fellas here, but most guys are douche bags between the ages of 15 and 25...If they aren't out of it by then...Well they're douche bags for life!

  4. Both men and women suck my dear. Just in different ways. Men are physical and women are mental.

    regardless, part of me still wants to see the good... even when or if they don't deserve it.