Pondering the Simplicity of Life

I have been pondering a few things this week that I can't seem to wrap my mind around.  I can't find the logic of why people would do what they do and soon, to me, it just falls under the category of simple stupidity.

I know life is hard, but there are some things bout it that are simple.

Quality vs. Quantity

Always choose quality.  It's that simple.  Quality will generally outlive quantity.  When you buy products at the store, investing a bit more soon becomes cheaper on a prorated basis versus the cheap product now.  Think about it.  The same theory applies with people.  If you just want someone there because it's a body, well that is your prerogative, but if you want something that will last, I strongly you suggest you avoid the "available now" person.  By picking cheap (products or people) what does this say about you as a person?  What do you truly value?

You want something, go after it and work for it.

I have had three people tell me this week how they want something and then tell me how they ruined it.  Sorry folks, things take time and 'Rome wasn't built in a day."  Now unless you are some magician, grow magical beans, or have some odd superpower, things take time.  Your saving for that ONE thing you have always wanted, learning something new, or even relationships of any form.  Think of it like a bank versus a piggy bank: which one gains interest? #smh Oh yeah! The one that TAKES TIME!

I'll add personal experience here.  I want to eventually publish a book (content withheld).  I also want the credibility since many books that are written these days suck!  (Yes, I boldly said it.  Just because you can write/type, doesn't make you a good writer-I have already analyzed this against myself thank you very much!).  Not the point.  I want more, I want to be better, and I will forever encourage that in anyone else.  So someday, I will write a book and with my luck...it won't be a best seller til I'm dead. Ha!

Moving along...

If you value something/someone, invest in it.

(Throws hands up in the air.) Again!  Does that not sound simple?  I value my health, so I invest by taking care of my body and going to the proper check-ups.  I value my friends and family, so even though work and school consume me, I take the time to be with those people.  Again! The bank metaphor: if you take it out too soon, you lose interest.  If you don't invest the time, you lose the person. If you don't invest in your health...well you spend an increasingly amount of money  solving other issues that may have been prevented HAD YOU INVESTED in the first place. 

Do I sound preachy yet?   GOOD!

If you feel awful, listen to your body.

Here is a magnificent thought, that I oddly ponder a lot.  People look at their bodies as a single entity.  Let's go back a few....years, for me, to middle/high school.  Your body is made up of many living organisms.  Let me repeat, your body is made up of many living organisms.  I can only imagine how many times I piss off one set of organisms only to make the others happy. (Anyone picturing a weird comic strip yet of bodily cells yelling at each other? No? Ok, I'm just odd then.)  I am amazed at how often I have to please each piece of me in order for me to be happy as a whole.  Now although this is a great thought, my point is to listen to your body.  If it is sore, take care of it.  If it is sick, take care of it.  Nothing is worse than neglecting yourself or sacrificing yourself for something that is only going to have negative affects on you.  

If you can't make a decision, choose the first thing that comes to your mind.

I use this method often.  You see, I have this problem where my heart and my mind fight...A LOT! Logically I know the answer and then  my heart whines in:

 "Oh please pick the other one.  you never know what could happen."
"You want to know what is going to happen?  I'll tell you what will happen.  Based on pattern and behavior, what you want will not happen."
"Well, aren't you a pessimist.  You always kill any of my hope."
"I am not a pessimist.  I am a realist and you have fake hope because you know the truth."

I'll admit, that is a real conversation my head and heart have had.  I try to choose my head more often than not.  My heart is blind, while my mind actually considers a situation from all angles before making a foolish mistake.  My head is generally applies the first thought.  It helps me determine how much I truly want something or value something...to which you put in the time and effort, etc.

I guess this finally came full circle.  See how simple life can be?  Why waste time when you can put it towards something more beneficial.  For the record, I recently did and I am happier for it.

Thanks for pondering with me.:)

I'm Still That Girl

I'm still that girl.

I'm still that girl that wasn't pretty enough for you to date.  I wasn't popular enough for you to leech from, but I tore you off and walked on.  

I'm still that girl, part of the black sheep herd the shepherd separates from the desired.  I'm different and that scared you.  It scared you to know I don't follow your path.  It scared you that I didn't follow traditional rules.  It terrified you when you thought I would leave and yet you are the one who walked away from me.  I scared you because you couldn't help me, couldn't support me, you didn't understand me, but you didn't try.  Different is scary and I SCARED YOU.  

I'm still the girl who looks in the mirror and sees how others defined her at a young age.  Words are hard, but labels are harder.  Everything asymmetrical, largely proportioned, enough to make you nauseous.  

I'm still that girl who hid in the corner and allowed you to take my life.  She now dwells in a box, never to emerge unless hope resides at the bottom.

I'm still that girl, the one who will make you define what you mean not what you say.  

I am the girl who reveals the truth in the story you hide thinking you could escape the consequences.  

I am the girl that is the result of your consequences redefining worth; yours...or mine?  I am the girl that walks away.  I never look back, but I remember.  

I'm the girl that's going to hold you accountable but won't say a word because you told me not to.

I'm still the girl that may not be worth it to you, but even worse, may at times not even to me.

Dear Toxic Person (Read at your own risk)

Dear Toxic Person in My Life,

Since you entered my life, you grumble and complain how life does not meet your standards, yet you do not contain the knowledge to change the situation, which ultimately invalidates your view to be a progressive thought.

You walk into a new situation judging the circumstances and the people involved before you completely understand the situation and your resolution to improvement is making others feel inferior to your two-sided, black and white way of thinking when you cannot comprehend simple tasks that take you hours to complete.

Do not stroll in with your tardiness instigating arguments with people whom you have stated "don't know what they're doing" when you do not even have the mere intelligence to understand time as you lazily proclaim that cutting corners in your responsibilities is more efficient than actually providing quality work.

Stop debating nonsense!  I do not care that your parents paid for everything in your privileged life.  It means you have never EARNED anything nor do you DESERVE anything.  It does not make you appear more knowledgeable, but proves your inaccuracy in your misguided tunnel vision that, again, demonstrates a misconception of the "big picture."

Finally, stop complaining about prolonged negativity when it is you who breeds this wildfire.  Your closed off body language indicates you are not here for a team effort, your argumentative nature the moment you walk in the door creates hostility, and your bad mouthing of people you do not know...DOES NOT MAKE FRIENDS!

 DO NOT complain to me "No one likes me" when YOU TREAT THEM LIKE SHIT!

DO NOT complain to me about negative people when YOU have yet to contribute anything positive.

DO NOT come to me for assistance when YOU do not respect my answer.

And DO NOT breed your disgusting BULLSHIT into the air I breathe for I will show you how awful you are, how inadequate and incompetent of a contradiction you are, and finally...I will show you the door because you are of no help to a quality environment and your poisons need to die, for if you do not like something, change it, but you do not have to be an inhumane conniving manipulative person to do so.  That is toxic and passively-aggressively abusive.

Be gone.  Fair well.  (obscene gesture) 

P. S.  Thank you for leaving.

I Find it Hard to Pray For You

On a regular basis I tend to wrestle with the concept of religion, and not just one religion, but all religions and beliefs.  I like to ask people why they believe what they do, get down to the true self of the person only to find that many do not have the ability to do something for self.

Q.  Why do you believe in...?
A.  Because of faith

Q.  Okay, but why do you have faith?
A.  I believe in ... because I was told to.
A.  I believe ... because [so-and-so] does
A.  I believe...

Your belief becomes an invalid sense of mindlessness if you cannot come up with your own that proves you might have your own thought instead of something programmed into you.  Mind if I call you a robot?

Recent events have left me wrestling again, which to a certain extent I appreciate because I can think for myself.  Spread across my social media is "please pray for..." and my first thought is...

I find it hard to pray for you.  

I cannot seem to find it in my heart to pray for you.

It is not that I wish anything negative or painful upon a person.  In fact, my thoughts go out to those whose hearts are breaking over the situation.  You see, as I get older, things that had nothing and everything to do with each other seem to be connecting more closely these days.  I understand why people treat each other the way they do.  I understand disgust in actions and body language around individuals.  I then find it sad how a prayer request is made so publicly and selfishly when, if it had been anyone else, the same rules do not apply.  The hypocrisy amazes me, not to mention is part of the turn-off.

So am I being rude?  I do not think so.  Maybe my attitude births from the idea "you reap what you sow."  
Am I being too judgmental?  Probably, but they are at the same standards as the opposing party (more reaping, more sowing).
So why did I write this?  Clarity, understanding, because for the first time in my life, religious or not, ...I find it hard to pray for you.

Etiquette and a Torn Fan

I have been irritated the last twelve hours or so trying to figure out if I am a true fan or if I am just too loyal.  We have relationships (defined as how we relate to other people) every day and sometimes those relationships need to end, correct?

I'm sure all of you have seen in movies where a famous actor, actress, or athlete disappoints a child who looked up to the individual in admiration.  I know that is a lot of pressure on an individual as a person, but you did pick the role, did you not?

Anyway, with that scenario in mind, I'm torn.  I went to an event for the purpose of seeing the entertainment; an acapella group of guys who like to have and genuinely enjoy entertaining.   In 2014 I became a fan of this group as they did the opening song from The Lion King.  For those of you who do not know, my family is musical.  We all play multiple instruments, I went to school for music, and even used to play by ear, so when a chord is struck perfect and on pitch, my nerves tingle throughout my body.  Tight harmony like this is completely ignored and under appreciated these days.

The event I went to is known for its drunkenness of those "fortunate," so even though it confused me why they would have actual entertainment, versus background music, confused me.  

Here is where I am torn.

I enjoyed the show and was ashamed as I sat in the audience.  These men traveled, per request, and the crowd is talking over them in a drunken stupor.  I felt sorry for these men because from the stage, and from the back of the room, it did not look like anyone was listening or appreciating the music/show.  Standing on that stage, and based on some things said, I am sure these men were a bit confused if not completely insulted.  

After the show, I went and asked for a picture with these men to add to my collection of the times I have seen them.  The situation was awkward.  They seemed a bit reluctant as they hastily walked away.  Yeah, thanks for the photo, not that I traveled to purposely see you guys at all.  How rude?  How...is all that comes to mind.  

Circling back to the little kid scenario, that is how I feel.  Disappointed in something/someone I truly appreciated.  Is this where I should stop "following" them on social media because obviously, a rude audience overrides true appreciation?  But is this "true fan" behavior? I mean, look at fan of sports who follow teams through years of failure.  What does that say about those relationships?  But in those relationships are both parties reflecting appreciation towards each other?

Besides that "torn" feeling of a "break -up," now I almost feel stupid because I am not that little kid anymore.  I am not naive and stopped playing games a long time ago.  I know my place in the line of duty, meaning that as an entertainer you should remain in character during those hours of work as you are being paid, but I also understand the human nature in association to one another.  Maybe this is just a moment when priorities change and I should stop being that "girl" following a "boy band," no matter the actuality of talent.

At this point, all I have to say is, don't forget your fans or even your "fans."  Keep in mind those who genuinely value you.  They are the ones who believed in you and the reason you may be where you are in life now.  You never know who is looking at you in admiration, so why not be something worth that admiration.

P.S.  I am a bit of a direct fan when it comes to honesty, making me a fan worth of admiration.

Disappointment in HATE

We are a little over a month into the new year and already I am avoiding certain social media (Facebook) as much as possible.  Many changes have occurred and fuelled an obsession of hate among many people.  I have always prided myself on surrounding myself with positive people, people who support and strengthen those around them because they stand for something.

But many of you (yes, I know you may read this) have disappointed me.  You are not the strong people I once knew.  You stand and accuse others with verbal poison because a person does not agree with you 100%.  How dare you spread hatred.  Whatever indignified opinion you have of others has now been defined by your ignorant attitude.  I HATE to use these, but :

Grow up!

Act like an adult!

Be an example!

(If I need to continue with those cliches, then you really were not listening anyway)

I am not saying roll over on your beliefs.  HELL, please do the opposite, but there is method of doing so that people take you seriously and ACTUALLY listen to what you have to say.  Ranting and raving in anger depicts a child throwing a tantrum, I'm not saying many of you are not capable of that either.

For as long as I can remember, my mother has taught me two things; two common things that many of you know:

If you don't like it, change it.

Treat people the way you want to be treated.

.....LET ME REPEAT

If you don't like it, change it.

Treat people the way you want to be treated.

Do I need to say it again?

I do not like all this hatred spread all over.  I have never felt so sorry for anybody like this except my ex.  I truly hated him.  I hated him to the point of where I was only hurting myself, physically.  Seeing poison spread from people I used to admire and know are better than childish antics also makes me ill.  I see positive supportive people crumble to the hatred.  I see people in leadership positions or are role models accuse people who have opposite viewpoints as them for being "toxic" (DUDE! LOOK IN THE MIRROR!)  Left/right, black/white, none of you are helping each other. And those of you who used to believe in something that decided it is "safer" to "fall for anything" are weak and submissive in your hypocritical choices.

I don't know about the rest of you, the people I once admired, the people I believed the best in, the people I believed had potential to be great, but I'm going to squash hate.  My social media is going to be cluttered with positivity, achievements, proud moments, ...happiness.  I am not going to spread hate because someone does not agree with me, but I'm also not going to cave on my morals/values.  I will stand up for what I believe for progression in a positive direction.  

This is me NOT being quiet.

P.S.  How is it that these two can find happiness in differences and many of you cannot?  I challenge you, to be better.

Breaking Up with My Son

Time travels, too fast.  Today I watched my son at his soccer game wondering if seven years earlier I was in my right mind.  His brown hair and skin glisten in the sun from the sweat of running around the field.  He is an athletic young man, which he got from his father, along with those blue eyes that stand out in contrast to his other physical tones.  He is smart, too.  Although I had chosen a closed adoption, my sons mother seemed to understand that I could not lose that significant piece of my heart, the piece that is connected to the accomplishment of life.  I did not fight her on her choice and now, I think I appreciate it more.

I accidentally became pregnant, and when I say "accidentally" I mean it was unplanned.  I screamed and hollered the day I found out I was pregnant.  My life was not ready for a child.  I could not care for him, I still had more life to live, and I had not decided whether I wanted to have children or not.  At the time I was in a relationship with a man, no one to be impressed by and probably one of the biggest mistakes of my life, but is that not what everyone says about an ex? Anyway, the relationship did not last, leaving me with this small piece of me and small piece of him (of course it was more me).

A week went by after my childish adult tantrum before I was able to grasp anything and what I decided to do was consider the circumstances logically.  I could not think with my heart, although my emotions were as elevated as the power of a super hero.  I decided that I would break up with my baby.  Now although I was dissolving our relationship, I could not completely dissolve our connect considering this child was a part of me.

I did the logically responsible adult thing I could do, connecting with an association that set me up with a counselor who would help through the breakup of my relationship.  She educated me on my choices to confirm not only that I understood what I was doing, but that I was ready to follow through with my choices.  What many do not understand about me, is that when I make a choice I follow through and when it comes to letting go of people in my life, I erase them as if they never existed.  A life with little memory defaults to the disappearance of a subject from your mind.  I had used this method with other individuals, specifically exes, and I was choosing to do it here to salvage my emotional sanity.  I may be able to logically and conceptually get rid of a person, but I am human with emotional attachments.

My determination followed the process of development strictly from nurturing a human life to finding a qualified candidate to take my place in my son's life.  I know it sounds like a process for hire, but ultimately, that is truly what my choices came down to if I was to try and remain unattached.  

I did find a family for my son.  The parents were, as my girlie side would describe, adorable.  They were high school sweethearts with a four year old son, at the time, whom they had adopted earlier.  The interaction between the two dark haired, brown eyed individuals was priceless, the type of love you see in a Hallmark movie.  Their son, even though adopted, resembled many of the parents' physical features and was one of the most well-mannered children I had met in a long time.  I had my share of interaction with snobby "children" who felt the world owed them, but I wanted my son to be a strong independent individual.  The family was perfect to the point where a part of me wished I could be a member.

The days and weeks pressed on.  My health suffered a bit through each milestone, but my son's parents were there with me through every appointment and anything other concerns that included their son.  I began to trust them more also, know that actions speak louder than words, they were people I could depend on or more so, my son could depend on.

My counselor told me, multiple times, that there are times when the mother carrying the child begins to rethink her choice.  I would like to have said I was above this, considering my arrogant determination of choice, but I too, am human.  One night I went over to see my son's mother.  I wanted to tell her everything that was going through my head and what I was feeling because even though she may not have internally carried a child, she understood the love for one.  I am also flawed with the trait of honesty.  I see no reason to lie in life and in this particular situation, the lie would concern something or someone that was significant to me.  We talked late into the night as I explained to her everything I had been through, the choices I made, and why I made them.  The only thing that bothered her was the idea of a closed adoption since it was more common to have an open adoption.  I admitted to her that I did not want the emotional pain, the pain of feeling like I abandoned someone, a life that I had a part in creating.  Tears came to the eyes of my son's mother.  She told me I had a big heart and did not deserve pain, but knew, because of that attribute, it would be hard for me to completely grasp the idea that I was not abandoning our child.  

Today my son is an honor student.  He, of course, plays soccer, is taking piano lessons, and has one of the most curious minds his parents have known.  Although, I still chose for the adoption to be closed, my son's mother convinced me to have a "slightly" open case where I would have the role of being a guardian angel for my son.  I would not have to feel as though I abandoned him, but I would not have to know every detail about him either.  His parents send me pictures every so often and though a part of me would still like to be a part of their family, I understand that my son is no longer mine, but theirs and that he needs to have his own life.  I do watch his games occasionally or see his piano recitals, but those are just events that confirm to me I knew what I was doing when I made my choice to break up with my son.

Lost in Insomnia: Storm Swampside (Part 1?)

Some nights I just cannot sleep.  My mind wanders into this black hole that causes chaos deep within my mindset to that point where conscious meets its innate depths.  The moon is low shining bright against the dark of night with a glimmer of stars in the background.  The wind is unsettling, but the waves of the swamp remain calm.  The question is to let go with the intentional risk of sabotage or to remain guarded with the protection of armor, playing it safe while always in question?

I lay back against the grass feeling every little creature under squirming to scream from the weight of my body as it pushes against them.  Thank goodness many were able to escape as I understand that I am relaxing in some form of poo.  My eyes close, ignoring the squish on my back as I try to find myself by losing myself.  I have a choice to make and I cannot, for the life of me, seem to find the answer.  My head runs away, or rather my mind, figuratively hiding from the world while the rest of me has to remain facing the harsh winds that are yet to come.  

A tear falls down my face as I dread the choice I have to make, knowing that either option is a risk of pain with the understanding that the choice is potential and not utterly impossible.  The chance of desire or the chance of failure.  The focus of promise or the distraction of opportunity.  

The wind picks up harmonizing through the grass as it calms the chirping of the grasshoppers.  The moment is coming and I cannot decide.  I choose to armor myself, playing it safe with a guaranteed plan of execution that falls short in fate, but ensures survival with an imprisoned heart.  I close my mind off to possibility, fading deeper into the dark hole of my mind.

Lightening streaks across the sky.  The thunder following as it ripples the waves before me.  I remain relaxed in my mind, but for once feeling unsafe.  My choice now incorrect.  The risk no longer an option.  My fingers curl around the breast plate as I spiral deeper into the darkness.  I am frozen in fear and in the strength of my determination for survival for I have been through more hellish circumstance.

The wind dies down, taming a bit of its temper, but the lightening is unforgiving.  It strikes the tree above my body and I awaken at his scream.  My fear now replaced with sadness realizing the passing of  opportunity.  I might have been safe by taking the risk.  I might have understood his proof to me if I had taken a chance.  I may not have hardened every molecule in my body if I had just...admitted...what I was scared to face.

No you probably will not understand this, so do not even try, but I hope you enjoyed.  Thanks for reading!

Facing Me

I am sorry my readers that it has been some time since I last made an entry, but as most of you may know, this usually indicates that something is going on.

Once again school has taken up my time and now that I am in the final week, I am left with so many questions.  I realize that I have strict logically supportive opinions with correlating ambiguity.  

I was recently asked why I do not talk about myself much in conversation.  My first thought was "You don't ask the right questions if you even ask me a personal question to begin with."  Then I thought, "You want me to be a narcissistic freak always posting things about ME on Facebook because I am too self-absorbed to realize that there are other human who inhabit this planet?"  Strike two.  Third, I am a private person.  I have my life, my friends, and all you need to know is what I let you know.  Many of you have read prior posts and understand the privacy.  After a period of abusive solitude, I value my life as a whole.

Tonight someone told me they wanted to get to know me.  I was asked questions that I had trouble answering with the retort ringing "Why do you care?"  I answered as if I was choking down the words and then the person stated, "I know you are divorce, but I want to know more about you."  I know divorce is not uncommon and it is something that I may nonchalantly discuss, but to have it remembered felt weird considering its association.

After almost five years, I still get the looks, the questions, or the unnecessary empathy as though I am weak.  I have built an empire on my independence and been scorn for it.  I have created characters based on my experience as a method of freeing my imprisoned mind to appear normal outside the walls in which I live.  Some days I am 21,  I drink all night flirting with men and women with the cognitive thought that I am young and have nothing to lose.  Some days I am 35 in a midlife crisis, quietly shunned by society with no understanding as to why I am single at this age with no spouse and no kids.  (Easy, I'm a leper folks.  It's the ONLY way to explain that.)  Other days, I am an 80 year old woman whose husband passed away after their 50 wedding anniversary, but does not lack the energy in life as I race folks in my wheelchair down the hall and flirting with the male nurses who are always willing to give an innocent old woman a kiss on the cheek.  Then there are those days where...well, I'm basically dead, at least physically.  I have no age because time is just a figment of human imagination as a form of measurement as an explanation to why things change, but I then exist in color or maybe in a moment completely untraceable.

So maybe I do not tell you everything about me or even tell you at all knowing you would blow a gasket out your rear.  Maybe it is better to know me in silence...or through my screaming text (writings) of insanity. :P

Progression? Development? Advancement? Stalemate.

Tonight someone made a comment that was puzzling in comparison to my experience.  The comment was perceived as though a person needs another person (a relationship) in order to grow or develop. (Takes a moment of silence.....maybe an additional moment for the crickets to stop chirping.)  So let me get this straight.  In order for me evolve I need another person?

I am perplexed at the undefined.  Then there is the question of wants, needs, or desires.  Let's slim this down shall we?

In this context, "relationship" was used in reference to "significant other" and the whole plethora of thesaurical labels that assimilate to the phrase, when in actuality, "relationship" is how two things relate. (Yes, you can smack your forehead now in the "a-duh" moment.)  So does this mean a single person lacks progression? (This is about the time I would walk away from a person shaking my head at the pure ignorance.) NO!  I am single and yet I think I have progressed much further than many individuals I have encountered.  Hell, in the last five years alone I do not think I could even begin to describe the meaning of progression to most.  Progression and development result from a craving of desiring more knowledge complimented with curiosity.  I cannot help that I want to know everything.  I am greedy in that way and damn proud of it, but does that mean I need a romantic relationship?

Now if we redefine "relationship" in the sense that I may need a "partner in crime," then I can see in some situations a "relationship" is needed for progression.  For example, I went skydiving.  Some people are scared of heights, so maybe they participate in a tandem jump to face their fears.  The relationship of the two people for the tandem jump (student/instructor) is one that provides progression for at least one of the two parties involved.

Unfortunately, I am still uneasy about the whole thing. Why?  Progression always starts with the self.  A person will not evolve if the individual does not want to.  A person will not progress if the individual does not feel the need.  A person will become an ignorant fool if a person does not have one of the aforementioned......oops!  Seems my opinionated self stepped in.  

Stalemating is completely frustrating to me.  I see or meet people who say they would not change anything in their lives.  I have had a handful of dates who proclaim their lives are exactly the way they want them, they just need a woman to "fit" into that life.  (knocks on your forehead) Excuse me?  Anyone home?  I am NOT some little woman to FIT into your life.  I am NOT going to just sit tight and make you a damn sandwich.  You have two legs, two hands, and God pray tell half a brain to make your own damn sandwich.  

Enough of my rant.  I think that part of a lack in progression is fear where people tend to curl up in the norm, which is safe.  Personally, I have a hard time understanding safe in this form.  It just lacks excitement.  ;-)

Mind Control

Do you have a mind like mine?

Onethatstartstalkingtothepointyoucan'tunderstandwhatitissayinganditevendoesitinaccentstothepointwheretotalktoyourselfoutloudwithagigglebecauseitisfunnyyouaretalkingoutloudtoyourselfinanaccentandthenyourealizethatthetwopartsofyouinteractingareoronsforlaughingatyourselffor talkingtoyourselfintheaccentthatyouwanttojustslapthemandyouthink"Great,nowIhavebecomethethreestoogesinmyheadthatinteractwiththeoutsideofmyheadandthatoldladyislookingatmefunnywhilemyeyesmovesidetosidebecauseIamactuallytalkingtomyselfbothinsideandoutsidemyheadtryingtograsponetrainofthoughtandIcannotmakethisstop..."

That is only a portion of my madness, the part I allow you, the reader, to potentially understand because for the last couple weeks I cannot get any of that to shut off.  Not even a portion of it and it drives me insane to the point where I disappear from the world.  I stick music in my head, which somehow seems to calm the madness with its beats in order for me to find type of control.  Well, I think I found some, as I surface a bit.

I realize I am mad, as in angry, and the only way to deal with it or spread it, because that would be wrong, is to lock it up in a cage.  I contain this huge entity that I have taught to just sit there inside me to dwell without allowing it to be let lose.  I have not had the time for a proper release.  Between school and work I lost myself (partially because many have told me how worthless all my hard work for my graduate degree is and I will amount to nothing).

I lost myself to the thoughts of how hypocritical society is in that being a liar and sleeping with your boss is somehow rewarded with promotions, religion teaches the value of humanity yet members seem to forget their human imperfections in critiquing others, or politics somehow becomes the acceptance of murder.  I kept quiet too long, obviously.  I, figuratively, rolled around in this pile of shit for some time now, so it must be understandable when all I want to do is sit on the sidewalk with my legs curled up to my chest to watch people pass me knowing very well they are missing the bigger picture.

With all this bullocks on the mind I cannot help, but dream, everyday, of flying.  I am not talking about flying with wings or even in an airplane, but the soaring that unfortunately only last mere moments when you jump off a waterfall or skydive.  I find my mind leaving my body (and having a tough time returning) when it is soaring with the wind, doing back flips in the air only to land on the droplets of clouds to surf in the breeze passed the birds, passed the mountain tops, and into the sunset. I cannot do it though.  

So what do I do?

Any of you seen the movie Stranger Than Fiction  with Will Ferrell?  In the movie the author tries desperately to imagine different ways to die.  Lately, after all the flying, my mind tries to figure out some new death defying experience because in my mind I am completely and utterly immortal.  I cannot die.  My life won't let me!  I just cannot feel anything.

I do not have all the answers and am probably not the most sane person alive.  My grasp on life is tattered, mutilated, and an elaborate illusion that I have found to be greatly misunderstood considering many of you will not understand the run-on thought (s) above.  I'm okay with that though.  I cannot control everything, which maddens me in itself (along with everything).  Maybe the best way to handle this is to somehow figure out how to save myself from myself like I have been doing for most of my life,  I mean, I had to have lasted this far for a reason, right?...Oh yeah, it's because I'm immortal.  Silly me! ;)


This is how I feel when I fly:

Linkin Park "Somewhere I Belong"

(When this began),
I had nothing to say 
And I'd get lost in the nothingness inside of me
(I was confused)
And I let it all out to find/that I'm
Not the only person with these things in mind (inside of me)
But all the vacancy the words revealed
Is the only real thing that I got left to feel.(nothing to lose)
Just stuck, hollow and alone
And the fault is my own,
And the fault is my own.

I want to heal,
I want to feel,
What I thought was never real
I want to let go of the pain I felt so long (Erase all the pain 'til it's gone)
I want to heal,
I want to feel,
Like I'm close to something real
I want to find something I've wanted all along
Somewhere I belong

And I've got nothing to say
I can't believe I didn't fall right down on my face
(I was confused)
Looking everywhere only to find That it's
Not the way I had imagined it all in my mind
(So what am I?)
What do I have but negativity?
'Cause I can't justify the way everyone is looking at me.
(Nothing to lose)
Nothing to gain, hollow and alone
And the fault is my own,
And the fault is my own

I want to heal,
I want to feel,
What I thought was never real
I want to let go of the pain I've held so long(erase all the pain 'till it's gone.)
I want to heal,
I want to feel,
Like I'm close to something real
I want to find something I've wanted all along
Somewhere I belong


I will never know
myself until I do this on my own
And I will never feel,
Anything else until my wounds are healed
I will never be
Anything 'til I break away from me
And I will break away,
And find myself today

I want to heal,
I want to feel,
What I thought was never real
I want to let go of the pain I felt so long (erase all the pain til it's gone)
I want to heal,
I want to feel,
Like I'm close to something real
I want to find something I've wanted all along
Somewhere I belong.

I want to heal.
I want to feel like I'm,

Somewhere I belong, Somewhere I belong.

How Six Minutes Can Affect Your Life Part 4: Feeling Alive & Love

After my jump, I felt nothing for the next few days, maybe a week.  I mean, I was proud of what I did considering I had been waiting a long time to accomplish this goal, but emotionally...complete nothingness.  It was the feeling you get after something amazing like a good movie or book and your heart just drops because...it's done.  I anticipated the probability of skydiving many years ago.  This goal then became a focus of mine that only intensified after my life was threatened because I had so much to accomplish.

After I scheduled my jump something changed in my mind.  You know those dreams you get as a child where you are flying, you are invincible, and nothing can hurt you?  I dreamt about that for about thirty days.  The feeling of suspended tranquility, unbelievable admiration, and a somehow mildly empowering feeling of accomplishment. 

Freedom.....
......complete......and utter
Freedom.

It was a place similar to what I would call limbo considering I was neither here nor there.  It is a place you may find when swimming under water or, I have been told, when doing a suspension (hanging from fish hooks?).

And then it was gone.

It was so surreal and I felt apathetic.  I felt as though I was a failure.  In the different aspects of my passed.  What did I do wrong that I ended up here with ...nothing? 

This took me awhile to adjust. I thought I was to feel alive after all that excitement and I felt dead.  I could not figure out what was wrong with me.  Then something clicked.  To many of you this will sound weird if not trite, but I had felt something I had not felt in years.  Love in its purest form.  The type you might have towards a new born child.  Do not get me wrong, I love my family and friends dearly.  I also love people in that "this is a person.  Why do you need to hurt this person?  Why does a person deserve punishment for being different than you?" type of way (too bad you cannot just stick an adult in a corner some days :P).  I had something for a bleak moment and it was gone like that.

So a part of me is lost in that at the moment.  I accept that though.  If I am patient and behave, I might get a chance to figure it out.  Love is a bit complex to figure out in one night anyway.  In the mean time, my writing has increased tremendously making me wonder if the extra oxygen levels cleared a few things or just added more air to my head for ideas to move around instead of bang into each other.  Maybe this was a process of rebirth. Pushing the "reset" button on my life? Adding more perspective because I have too much to experience yet and I just won't know it until I get there.

How Six Minutes Can Affect Your Life Part 3: Trust

Trust.  I know I have written on this if not mentioned it (...like a bajillion times), but it is SIGNIFICANT to me and I feel it contributes a lot of things in life.  We trust the ability to wake up in the morning.  We trust we will have a job with financial stability.  We trust simple things like cars to get to work, technology to function in EVERY part of our lives, or that someone will catch us when we fall.

I had two hours to develop trust in Mr. Black that with both of us having knowledge on what was to take place in the jump we would both survive regardless of his professional obligations as an instructor.  Actually, the professionalism was the only thing I trusted (Not to mention great media work by Mr. Blue).

Trust can be complicated.  There are levels that have specific purposes.  

Trusting coworkers between the lines of personal and profession interactions.  The same applies to peers at school, for example, with group projects.  Can you trust them to properly contribute?  Or can you trust that your teachers know the material they teach about?  Keep in mind special blotches of ink on paper are to be able to prove this and yet using the same concept, those blotches of ink do not always keep people safe when it comes to legal matters (marriage license, restraining orders, protection orders, etc.).  What about the level of trust in places we live with landlords or those in maintenance?

I will confidently say that the greater extent of trust is just in functionality.  We believe everything will continue to progress in time but time is another analysis for, well, another time, but is this trust or do we just take it for granted?

So I have admitted that trusting others is hard and most of that is due to the fact that you cannot control the other person.  You cannot trust something that is unstable or things out of your control.  Then again, can we trust ourselves?

I would love to work towards a skydiving license; however, financially I am out of luck at the moment.  I am still young enough (or at least I feel young enough) that I have time.  Time has nothing to do with this, only the accomplishment itself, but what if I told you I am a bit scared to do it myself?  Will I pull the right cords?  Will I pack my parachute correctly?  Am I subconsciously going to kill myself doing this? (Sorry, Mom, morbid sense of humor).  Do I trust me?

There is your lottery winning question.  Do I trust me?  Do you trust you?  Could I add any more psychological issues to this blog since I keep justifying I probably have multiple personalities? (Yes, I am kidding)  Some days I am strong than others.  On my strong days I trust that I have enough power in me to keep standing and lift others from their knees.  On weak days, I trust that I am in control enough that, if given the time, I can lift myself from my knees.  Trust can sometimes limit us or maybe, in my case, we can trust that whatever happens will happen and we will be able to handle the consequences when we get there. 

How Six Minutes Can Affect Your Life Part 2: Fear

As you read in my previous entry, I jumped out of plane and dove to the ground.  Blatantly put it sounds scary.  I actually questioned myself on thoughts of fear before my jump wondering if this was the reason of my pursuit.  I told people it was a reason for my pursuit considering some of the traumatic episodes in my life and now I wonder if it was the real reason or if I was just kidding myself.

Fear defines a person.  What type of fear and how a person handles that fear reflects upon the individual's personality.  Is this person going to take risks?  Does this person know he/she is doing?  Should this person be trusted?  What challenges can this person handle?

Some days I get this feeling that I am not afraid of anything.  Part of that is that I am too curious about things to just let them pass me by.  What I know I am afraid of is the unknown.  I was nervous, a bit afraid, of not knowing how my skydiving experience would play out.  I am scared of people because I cannot control their behavior leaving it hard for me to trust them.

Even though I have a bit of fear, maybe less than the next person, I realize I have to embrace it.  Many people just let it hold them back.  One thing that crossed my mind before my jump was the risk of death. Someone also asked me if this was something I was afraid of.  I was not afraid to die, should that have happened.  Eventually I will die.  I cannot live forever, thank goodness, but death is not a fear that should stop a person from trying new things.

A couple days after my jump a part of me felt scared.  I was scared to return to my life, which at the moment felt worthless because of the monotony.  I was scared of the people I would have to face because there are some people I do not want to encounter anymore as they leech off my life, lie to my face, and then kiss ass to other thinking their personal worth will increase.  Those types of people drain me and dealing with them is frustrating, so fear, in this case, develops a new meaning of exhaustion.

I guess I face fear every day.  I wake up, I go to work, I come home to do school work, and I could be missing something.  So as much as I grasp the concept of fear, I do not have the typical fears, like death defying feats.  I seem to fear the opposite, boredom.  Now the fear I have to face is what is my next big defeat. ;-)


"Sometimes you have to stop being scared and just go for it.  Either it'll work or it won't.  That's life." ~ Higher Perspective

The moment I stopped being scared and just went for it.  Photos by "Mr. Blue" at Skydive Fargo.

 

How Six Minutes Can Affect Your Life Part 1: The event

Despite the title, the whole event took at least a week and proceeded for a couple hours one day.  I scheduled an appointment in May to fulfill a goal on my bucket list to go skydiving.  I wanted it to take place during the month of May because it is my birthday month, it is the month I lost someone very dear to me, and the month that held my wedding anniversary.  (Note: All these happened within two weeks of each other, but during different years).  All around, it is a month I felt I needed to prove something.

I waited all month with anticipation, not feeling any fear of the potential risk.  Finally the day arrived.  I was pumped, I was psyched, I was let down.  Why?  Damn Mother Nature.  Apparently, for visual safety, it is illegal to skydive through clouds (Who knew?).  And here I thought that might be cool in a cartoon-ish sort of way (flying cupid?).  Thoroughly disappointed, I rescheduled for what I had thought was the following week only to realize it was the coming Saturday, which then turned into Sunday.  Do I have to mention that a part of me hates clouds only for the aspect of rescheduling?  

Evidently, Sunday was my third scheduled appointment (and unfortunately a new month) making a realistic "third times a charm".  Lucky for me, things went more smoothly because I had already gone through the initial training, warnings, and signing of losing any legal rights (basically, you know the risk you are taking, please sign and initial that you understand via this legal text).  

For the purpose of this blog, I will refer to the two men with me on my journey as Mr. Black and Mr. Blue (Okay, that just rang funny in my head after the fact of typing--my apologies...not really).  Mr. Black was my jumping partner and Mr. Blue was my camera guy.  I had met Mr. Blue during my initial appointment, so I felt comfortable with him from the start.  Oddly, I was a bit nervous with Mr. Black, but mind over matter I had to extinguish those thoughts quickly.

After getting strapped up and professionally violated with the biggest safety wedgie, Mr. Blue did my initial interview.  What are your thoughts?  What are you excited about?  Are you sorry you had to spend the day with us nuts here? I had to cock an eyebrow on that last one.  Obviously Mr. Blue did not know me very well.  Ha!  I must have been a little nervous because as I watch the video now, I could not be a bigger goober...but I'm okay with that.  (embrace the weird)

The experience as a whole was amazing with a high value of knowing how many people do not get this opportunity.  I was fine during the plane ride and then during the falling part of the jump, which felt like I was sitting in a baby swing.  My slap of reality was the first step outside the plane where the wind grabbed me a bit and I had to trust that Mr. Black had me secure.  I think the real expression that slipped from my lips was "Oh shit!" as I quickly ran through the typical thoughts questions.  What am I doing?  What am I thinking? Wait!  I must turn back!  I still have time to go back (exit second leg out the airplane door). There is no turning back!

It is funny though how our approach/viewpoint to life is reflected in the things we do.  Five years ago I stopped turning back from things and decided to face them realizing the value of risk, taking chances, and walking into the unknown. Life seems to become more rewarding doing the unexpected, not to mention bragging rights. :P

At the end the question is always asked: Would you ever do this again? (Many of you will not be surprised by this answer) Frick ya!  I think the question to ask yourself is why you would not take the opportunity.

For more information to obtain your own thrills, please click HERE and enjoy the ride!

Unfinished Fear

In three days I will accomplish the feat of sky-diving, which is something I have longed to do for some time now.  As I near the actual event a part of me becomes scared.  I am a little bit scared of heights, but have learned over the years how to master those occasions by just saying "yes" to the moment.  With the potential risk of my life I am a bit scared of how I am going to die since I do not want any pain, but I am not scared of death which to many is confusing.  Death is inevitable and I have learned to accept that someday, somehow I am eventually going to die, but what will I have to show for the life I lived?

 

So why am I taking this risk?

 

I am facing every fear that I have had: rejection, intimacy, death, pain, ...change.  I am accepting that I am stronger even when I feel that I have fallen.  At times I silently pray in my head that I will be able to survive, which in this context is vague.  I get sick of being the strong one, the one that mends all the wounds, and the one that keeps everything organized.  When is someone going to take care of me? 

 

In connection to religious beliefs, I am taken care of, which is why I am so strong.  If I look how rich I am in friendships, I am also taken care of because I have invested in people who are there when I need them and know I would do the same.  Mentally, I'm exhausted. Ha!  Compared to others, I wish I understood the meaning of a "clear mind." 

 

Maybe I should be asking what scares me?  Answer: Everything. lol 

 

My imagination wanders to what could be from what is and every scenario in between both good and bad.  This ability offers me the gift of being prepared for anything while also over-compensating.  Sound exhausting yet? 

 

So I take this risk.  I face my fear and all for what?  What did I accomplish in life?  What difference did I make?  How did I improve something?  Odd as it may seem, these are the questions that ensure me of my survival in my jump and that I do not have to be scared.  I am just beginning.  I have so much to accomplish.  I am not finished yet.

Impressionable Interactions

Life has an odd way of presenting us with opportunity.  Some options are presented in anger, some are presented for us to overcome fear, and others may offer the realization of your importance.  People sometimes wonder about their importance to their existence and when it appears it is hard to identify.

I am currently single and some days I still feel like the pubescent teen trying to figure herself out, the one that gets lost in her own head on a daily basis.  Then there is the co-existing adult version that recognizes that my unique perspectives are what give me worth.  Not everyone sees life as an adventure and lives to tell about it.  Not everyone views life as a comic strip.  Not everyone views life as a moment to be a hero even if it is only silently noticed.

Every now and then people feel lonely.  This could be the fact that a relationship did not survive or maybe even the lack of a relationship.  In this mindset it is not realized that there are many types of relationship and the people from those relationships can fulfill some of the needs that are not being met.  For instance, some people say they wish they had someone to cuddle with when sometimes a hug from a friend (a touch period) is more effective.  Why?  The affection is from a person who genuinely cares about you.

Then there are those moments when we ask ourselves, "Would it really matter to anyone if I disappeared?"  Answer:  OF COURSE!  We interact on a daily basis with each other and you think that no one would notice if you were gone?  I will be bold and admit that I have asked this question.  In fact, double the boldness, I have asked a person directly if it mattered.  There are times where we need this acknowledgment, but do we know when to recognize this?  NOPE!

Let me explain.

There are times when I have moved on with my life and those I left behind, that mattered to me, forgot me.  the next thing I know,  I get a random text, email, or phone call with five simple words: I was thinking of you.  (pause for 'awww').  I recently experienced this from people I did not expect.  What?  How?  Wait, WHY?!?!  I don't know and frankly, I stopped caring to analyze the reasoning.  I accept that in that one moment that person thought of me because I somehow affected his/her life.

Sounds simple, right?  WRONG!  This is where things get foggy and we miss things.  So what do I try to do?  I accept any interaction for what it is at that moment and accept it for what it is worth.  This person thought of me today.  This person thought I was worth the contact.  This contact may have been an extra effort since we have not had a lot of contact.  This person is proud to be associated to me and reached out.  We never quite know how much we mean to others until it literally hits us on the head (I might have had that happen few times before I got to this point).  Maybe loneliness is a bit selfish and we should try reaching out to others during those times instead of withdrawing from our regular lives.  And then maybe, as I near one of the most exciting and fearful days of my life thus far, I reflect on how many people I may have made an impression on, allowing me to feel thankful that I had all these opportunities.

Writing: Lost in the Sand

It has been over a month since I last wrote on this site.  I lost a bit of my imagination, creativity, and my characters died.  In short, my class is kicking my ass to the point that I did not want to write anymore.

 

The English language (and classes) have always been tough for me.  To put it in perspective, I think I was getting a better grade in my Spanish class than English class at one point.  The terms change meaning with every sentence, with every placement, and with every speaker and yet I pursue to become a Master at this oddity.  Why?  I am one to take risks, challenge the rules, jump into the deep end of a pool cold turkey, and conquer any of my limitations.  I hate being shoved into a box of structure.  How can I "think freely" if you control how I am to think? 

 

Frustration is my enemy and became an accessory to the murder of my characters (unless I can dig them up from the sand).  My class is/was not going as I desired. My characters became "flat" and "uninteresting" while I mentally began to breakup with them.  That is correct.  I figuratively walked away to let them drop dead.  Sadly, for the sake of the class, I have to revive the zombies.  I asked my professor if he had ever walked up a sand dune:

 

     You start at the bottom of this big hill of sand excited at the thought of reaching the top, but with ever couple steps, you fall back one.  It is annoying, frustrating, and drives a person nuts.  The sun beats upon you as you try different method of climbing by using your hands or digging your feet deeper into the sad until you are a bit exhausted.  You the stop to sit in the sand, which is burning your ass since it was heated by the sun, and try to figure out a new plan of attack. 

 

Well, I told my professor that with this class I was stuck sitting in the sand (and no my bottom is not raw from the burning :P).  After admitting that my characters were dead, my professor advised me to go play in the sandbox.  I do not know if this was intentional or not, but considering the above it made sense.  Maybe I need to add water?  I could try to build a sand castle, but then I might need to add a bucket.  My sand has not become a stone yet, which is why I am performing CPR or just plain resurrecting zombies of my characters.  Is it just me or does everything seem to begin and end with sand here? (sand, sandbox, zombies?)

 

I guess it is time for me to format my sand...

Writing: A Reason to be Greedy

That, my friends, was the title of my post for my current class in the analyzation of why I want to write, why I should write, or what my goals are in writing.  From this heading I received, what I consider, to be a compliment:  "...how could I resist the provocative header...".  Somehow I feel one of those "Go team!" moments we see in movies should happen here, but I'll digress.

I wrote this header based on the idea that writing should start with the writer.  I have all "this" inside that needs to come out in some shape or form of expression and for me it is writing about "this."  Now does that sound completely greedy/selfish?  I have heard that writers should base their writing on their audience, but if I put my audience before myself am I going to be completely honest with you?

I recently told a person that I had to "bite my tongue" during a conversation, which is hard for me, especially when I understand both sides of the conversation all too well.  You ever have those conversations with another person and feel like you are just talking to yourself during a different part of your life, like a past self?  I did, but during the conversation I also realized I had to shut up too.  Saying too much can scare a person and saying too little will not get your point across, but saying just enough provides intrigue that eases into the true intention.  

As I write here, there, and maybe a little bit everywhere like a child with a crayon against a white wall, I realize how harsh I can be knowing that sometimes an audience needs a safety net while others require the "band-aid to be ripped off."  I am a band-aid person (does that not sound weird to anyone else?).  Give me the truth and I will deal with it from there.  I make a choice and deal with the consequences later because if you wait too long the choice is made for you which can be worse than the choice you make for yourself. 

Writing allows me to organize the carousel of thoughts that whiz past my mind constantly.  I have no on/off switch, unless you count taking a frying pan to the head to put me in a coma, but one topic meshes with another topic becoming psychotically no resemblance of the original thought. I mean the title itself is awkward: Writing? Greedy?  How about writing honestly?  

Every time I type one of these entries up or write something for any other purpose the voice of Avril Lavigne enters my head saying "With these things I'll never say."  I write what I would not normally say aloud partially for the reason that there is a time and place for things to be said.  Other times it is because I am ashamed of what I wrote.  Who would read this?  Why would you read it? Or my personal critique on myself (Perfectionist, right here, yoo hoo!), who would read this crap?  I had a rough draft read recently, one that revealed a lot of my opinions towards another person.  Yes, I was a bit ashamed of this draft considering it is one of those pieces where I talk to myself acknowledging "You know better."  To my surprise, I was basically told not to be ashamed of it.  It is not something I want to share revealing, what I view, to be a potential weakness in myself, but within time I may not be as embarrassed about a piece like this in the future.  It takes time.

So in my writing I am greedy.  Some of the greed I share, "gifting, " as my professor puts it, to others while some I keep to myself until it is tolerable beyond just myself.  It is interesting how not everyone can handle the truth and not everyone can handle giving the truth, but writing let's me be honest...or greedy.

The Idolization in the Thought of the Super Hero

Yep, I said it.  We idolize super heroes left and right, but may not in the way you would interpret when you think of "super heroes."

I bet most of you read the title, thinking about Marvel Comics and even some of the new movies or televisions series that have been produced based on these ideas, but unfortunately (sorry to disappoint) this is not that type of post.  

I went to the gym today and as I was running I had one of those "Oh, I'm so old" moments that made me think back to my childhood memories.  I remember when I was younger wanting to grow up to be just like my parents because, at the time, it seemed they could do anything and nothing would stop them.  I thought they were invincible.  So me, being a typical reckless clumsy youngster, would try anything.  I would climb on tractors, jump in pens with animals that my size or bigger, attempt to do a cartwheel in the back yard while falling (sometimes on my head and no comments from the peanut gallery:P), rolling down ditches, etc.  And what happened?  Bumps, bruises, scars, and lucky me, nothing broken.  I could do anything.  I was "King of the World."  I was...a nincompoop. (Yes, I just admitted that too).

It is interesting how at a young age we create this world around us where we are invincible, similar to superpowers, when all we are is innocent and ignorant about the things around us.  It is also interesting how, in some cases, our parents seem to be our super heroes as "adults can do anything", they can kiss a boo-boo away to make us feel better, and they can solve any Math problem in our schoolwork.  Pretty amazing, huh?  Well, maybe at that age it is.

Now as an adult, still with the decent ignorant imagination of my former reckless clumsy self who has no verbal filter, I look at me then and now realizing that although my mind is invincible my body seems to disagree.  (Yes, they fight on a daily basis and I have to sit them both in separate corners.)  Some of you may tell me "That is what happens when you get older," but I feel the need to reject that statement, partially because I have always been a rebel or one to challenge the odds set against me.  I may not be super and lost my typical "spidey-senses," but, as my mom likes to remind me, "I'm not dead yet."  This statement has been used in many different scenarios from physical abilities, discussions on sex and attraction, and even just discussions on limitations that we are determined to defy.

Sometimes I wish my parents had been Mr. and Mrs Incredible or that I had some genetic alteration and could fly through the night.  Hell, just reading minds might be intriguing, but I have always followed the idea that sometimes the things we think we want to know, we truly do not actually want to know.  So for now, even though I am not invincible and my joints need a bit of oil,  I will try to push my limits to my very end because someday I know that even though I am not super, I will get my chance to fly.