21 April 2012

cut my wrists and black my eyes.

hi. i'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine. her name is sylvia.

yes. i like sylvia plath. yes. this is incredibly cliché.

there is still a thirteen-year-old emo girl inside of me who listens to death metal and reads nothing but poetry.

deal with it.

i would like to provide you with some of the lovely things my dear friend sylvia wrote:
  • let me live, love and say it well in good sentences.
  • can you understand? someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little? for all my despair, for all my ideals, for all that -- i love life. but it is hard, and i have so much -- so very much to learn.
  • and when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter -- they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.
  • i like people too much or not at all. i've got to go down deep, to fall into people, to really know them.
  • i have never found anybody who could stand to accept the daily demonstrative love i feel in me, and give back as good as i give.
  • remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now. live it, feel it, cling to it. i want to become acutely aware of all i've taken for granted.
  • perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.
  • i can never read all the books i want; i can never be all the people i want and live all the lives i want. i can never train myself in all the skills i want. and why do i want? i want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life. and i am horribly limited.
there you go. pardon my lack of official citation.

bye for now.

20 April 2012

when i say, 'it's okay.'

i should be outlining a paper on attitudes toward motherhood in anna karenina, but there is something i need to get off my chest.

i have a really bad habit of flirting with pretty much any girl with whom i become good friends. it's been this way since junior high. 8th grade, to be precise, when i started becoming honest with myself about my sexual orientation. i've always seen it as harmless banter between friends. among my straight, bi and lesbian girl friends alike, there was flirting, joking about being 'lovers,' and so on. occasionally, there was cuddling during movies, hand-holding and the like, but there have only been a few instances where anything has escalated past that point.

now, i do not have an assertive, dominant personality, by any means. but, if the atmosphere is safe and playful enough, i can engage in reciprocal witticisms and euphemisms. i can play the tease, on occasion.

but i digress.

i, like most human beings, enjoy attention. however, i do not enjoy all attention.  i scare easily. any attention from men i do not know generally comes across as being potentially hostile. this is a defense mechanism i have acquired from years of receiving unwanted attention from people who have threatened to, or have, hurt me. now, i've had guy friends who have complained to me about how women cry "sexual harassment" anytime they please, and the guy is defenseless against the accusations. i recognize that this does happen.

nevertheless.

sexual harassment is a serious issue. i, being the scaredy-cat that i am, have never formally reported any harassment that i've received. but it happens. ALL THE TIME. and it isn't okay. it isn't flattering to have people make obscene gestures in my direction, or bump into me and get handsy, or call me names. seeing me flirt with a coworker does not give you license to join in, or make comments. wearing v-neck tees isn't an invitation for you to stare down my shirt while i clean tables. (i'm citing work incidents, here, because i don't go many places anymore, and these things happen at work all the time.) i don't stare at your crotch and try to figure out your size. stop staring at my tits and trying to figure out mine. if you want to know so badly, ask me. and i'll either tell you or tell you to fuck off. but that's my prerogative, because it's my body. and attention is great, but on my terms. things are okay when I SAY they're okay. "being a douchebag, asshole, or creeper" appears nowhere on my list of things that are okay. if you're gonna comment, use tact. if you're going to stare, be discreet. and, for the love of all that is good in this world, do not touch me.

not like blogging about it changes the situation at all. but hey. a person needs to vent, sometimes.

bye for now.

18 April 2012

mama.

i'd like to tell you about my mom.

my relationship with my mom has always been very complicated. but, for the purposes of this post, i will stick to more positive things.

when i was seven, i had growing pains. during the day, i didn't notice these pains. however, when it came time to go to sleep, the pain would bring me to tears. my mom thought this was awfully convenient, since i had a habit of finding ways to get out of going to sleep at my scheduled bedtime. she made this known. but. my mom used to come downstairs and sit on the edge of my bed, and try to massage the pain away.

i was thinking about this last night. i've been having growing pains again, though it's doubtful that i will get any taller. i couldn't sleep, because my legs hurt so badly. and all i could think of was how i wanted my mom to come into my room, sit on the edge of my bed, and somehow make the pain go away.

no matter what goes on between us, whenever life gets messy, or i'm sick or in pain, or hurt in some other way, all i want is for my mom to give me a hug. let me cry. tell me it's going to be okay. despite what her opinion is on the situation, my mom possesses some magical power that makes the world seem less scary.

maybe that's why, as my anxiety has worsened, i've opted to spend weekends at my mom's house. maybe.

i text my mom all the time. i call her almost every day. i go home almost every weekend. sometimes, i send her emails while she's at work, with links to songs or with pictures attached. because i can. i don't tell her everything, because there are some things she doesn't need to know. some things she doesn't need to worry about. but we're close, in a weird sort of way.

my family means the world to me. we're an interesting bunch, with idiosyncrasies that don't mesh very nicely. we don't always get along. we drive each other insane. but. the first place i want to be, when i'm feeling less-than-stellar, is with them.

just so you know.

bye for now.

16 April 2012

these words are my diary, screaming out loud.

i'm going to be honest. i don't know how many people read this blog. if i had to make a guess, i would say...three. two of whom i talk to on a regular basis, and who get to hear all about the craziness that is me and my life. the third is my beloved friend, ami, whom i'd marry -- if she weren't already hitched. i miss you ami!

anyway. if you're tired of reading about my struggle to stay afloat...part of me wants to apologize, but i'm not going to. i'm working on focusing on more positive things. on trying to chill. on getting out of bed and doing things. but, i do need to talk, sometimes, about the things going on inside my head. and though they may seem trite to you, they are very real, very scary, and very overwhelming to me. and as much as i'd love to wake up one morning and use my newly-found positive outlook on life to slay the dragons, it isn't that easy. i'd love for it to be, and i used to think that it was. that's how i ended up here, where i am now. by not taking seriously the things going on in my brain. and whether those things are caused by genetic predisposition to mental illness, a brain tumor, a lifetime of poor sleeping habits, awful coping strategies, placebo effect, or a combination of any/all of the above -- what causes all of it isn't what matters. what does matter is that, occasionally, it's nice to have someone to talk to about everything. that's a lot to ask of a person, which is why i started blogging again. then, it's left up to the reader's discretion, whether they choose to read the goings-on of my thought train.

this is where i come to breathe. i feel more calm after writing and publishing a new post than i do after any other activity. baking comes close, but blogging still wins that contest. i am incredibly grateful that there are people, however few in number they may be, who are interested in reading what i write. and i don't want to chase anyone away. i respect that people have their own opinions on what i am going through. that is your prerogative, and i will not impose upon that. i do ask, in return, that you continue to have patience with me. i hear, all the time, that there are simple answers to my problems. some people tell me that those answers are in diving head-first to face my fears. others tell me that the answers are in god. and if you say to me that you have answers, i am more than willing to listen. but. please. understand that there are things you cannot and do not know. about where i have been. about what is going on inside my head. about the demons with which i am grappling.

and, please, understand that i mean no disrespect. i figure that if you didn't care about my well-being, you wouldn't comment at all.

i appreciate that there are people who care about my well-being.

i'm in for a rough summer. and i hope you will join me for the ride. if nothing else, i promise there will be entertaining stories in which i survive a mosquito attack at a soccer game, or injure myself getting into a vehicle, or send people screaming because i'm wearing shorts. but i am taking steps to gain control of my life. it will be terrifying and exhilarating, i'm sure. there will be a lot of reading, and baking. hopefully, some intriguing family gatherings, as well. i plan on there being good days. but i also know there will be not-so-good ones. i hope you'll understand that i will share both.

these are my words. and i hope you'll continue to read them.

bye for now.