Why do we write?

Of course I can only tell you why I write and speculate on others.

It's not about the attention. (This blog isn't all that popular.) It's not about the love of language although I do have that.

I write because getting it out on paper or online helps me make sense of things. It shows me clearly what I think and why I think that way. In that way it gives me insight into myself.

I write to just release it. When I write about things I rarely speak of  like death, despair, and tragedy, I remove the weight of carrying it alone. I write most when I'm depressed and worried and angry. It soothes me. It's popping the blister and letting the poisons drain away.

I write because I want to share my thoughts and feelings. To seek out a new connection with others who have gone through similiar things. To possibly give someone a new point of view.

I write to try to explain the me underneath. It's sharing what made me ... well... me. I want what most everyone wants. To be accepted and loved for who I really am. Flaws and all.

I want to tell my story.



 

Forgiving the Unforgivable

Back when I lived in CT, while I was still young, I knew a family. They went to the same church as we did for awhile before switching to a new one. The wife's parents stayed very active in our church.

They were nice and kind and the young children were good kids. I helped take care of the little girl in AWANA. AWANA is a church youth group that teaches kids bible verses. Lots of games and singing and praising God.

When they left the church and found another home church, I didn't think much of it. I was a teenager and didn't think much about a lot of stuff.

Until the day I read the paper and started crying like a baby. Scott Pickles had killed his family. He smothered his daughter with a pillow  and beat his son to death with a bat and then stabbed his wife to death. The daughter was six and his son was only 3.

I was 3 blocks away when he was snuffing out their lives. I was sickened and terrified that it could have happened. It shattered my illusion that the world was safe.

After he killed them, he drove to his brother's house in South Carolina. He told his brother what he had done and his brother called the police.

3 days their bodies sat and decayed in an empty house three blocks away from me.

I was shocked and angry. Terribly angry. Angry that he had taken their lives. Angry at how he had done it. Angry that he wasn't dead himself. Angry that my world had been turned upside down.

He pled insanity. The prosecution decided not to pursue the death penalty.

Side note. Ever since the death penalty got reinstated in CT, it was never used. No prosecutor had the cojones to do it because of the public outcry.

I was enraged. He deserved to die for what he did. He killed his own flesh and blood. One after another after another. That prosecutor was a spineless idiot.

He ended up in a mental institution for a while then prison for life. No possibility of parole.

Jail wasn't good enough in my mind. Why did he get to live? Where was God in all this?

I hated him. Wished him dead. A slow painful death of stab wounds and beatings and asphixation. I didn't realize I could hate that much.

It was 1997 when they were killed. I won't ever forget them.

It took a long time for the anger to go. I knew they were in heaven. I knew that holding onto anger never helps anything.

I finally was able to let it go. It was a slow glacially slow process. I can be very stubborn.

I didn't forgive him because I thought he was sorry or because I thought he'd suffered enough.

I forgave him because holding that hate inside for so long was damaging me. I had to let go of that burden. He certainly doesn't care that I hated him. I very much doubt he remembers who I am. It didn't solve anything.

My hate wasn't going to make him suffer. My hate wasn't going to dry the tears of their relatives. My hate wasn't going to magically bring them back or change history. My hate was useless. My hate was making me bitter. My hate was a waste of time.

I wish I could've made myself let it go sooner. Ever since I did, I feel lighter.

I hadn't thought about the Pickles in a while. This tragic school shooting with the senseless violence and dead children brought it all back.

The children are the hardest. Innocence lost. Lives never fulfilled. You what if and coulda shoulda woulda. No what if will ever bring them back. Their lives were shooting stars burning bright before fading out.

The shooter is already dead. People are searching on where to put their blame and hate. Hopefully they will put down their hate quickly and love each other instead.

Terrible things will happen no matter what we do. But that is not what I focus on. What I think about is this. Wonderful things will happen because of what we do.

Susan, Elizabeth, and Alexander Pickles. Gone but never forgotten. May God hold you safe in heaven until we meet again.





 

It's Complimentary, my dear!

I started a new facebook page. The Random Compliment Project. It's sole purpose to make others appreciate their loved ones.

So much happens in our daily lives that we lose track of what makes us actually like each other. It's easy to take the friend who has always been there for you for granted.

We should let our loved ones know that we love them and why we appreciate them just being themselves.

There is only two rules for The Random Compliment Project.

1. No negativity allowed.
2. Mean it.

The world will always try to tear us down and stomp on our dreams. We need to negate the negativity and spread the love.

Sincerity. Don't fake it. Complimenting someone without meaning it is just plain icky. Look for something real to compliment. Not every compliment needs to be grand. Something as insignifigant as "Nice shoes!" can change someone's day for the better.

Do it for yourself too. Making someone smile can and will make you smile too.

I sincerely appreciate the gratitude and love I've seen shared so far and look forward to lots more!

Love. The more you share, the more you have. So share this page with someone you love and share the joy!

Please Hold.

Please hold. Your call will be answered in the order it was recieved.
La la la la.

That's what life feels like right now. A wait. An annoying wait with unhelpful customer service agents avoiding answering.

I'm not sure what I'm expecting to happen. Or why I feel like it may happen at any time. I don't think it'll be horribly bad or ridiculously good. But something will change in a big way soon.

In the meantime, it's life as usual. Work, karoake, reading, shopping, cleaning.

I'm getting impatient for it to happen. One way or the other, the shoe will drop.

But I really really really hate waiting.

It can't get in the car!

So I was driving down roads aimlessly getting totally lost with my friend Jess in the car.

 Not that one the other Jess. No the other one. I know a lot of Jessicas.

We ended up on this dirt road and the trees kept getting bigger and bigger on each side of the road. There were no lights except my headlights. No houses anywhere in sight. The branches of the trees began to weave together above us blotting out the moonlight entirely.

Suddenly a dog starting barking loudly. It sounded like it was coming from directly outside the car.
I started screaming but couldn't drive any faster because of the visibility.

Jess starts screaming over me.

"It can't get in the car! It can't get in the car!" She kept repeating it until I started laughing at the ridiculousness of it.

Did I ever tell you that I'm so happy my friends know me so well?

She got me from freaked out paranoia to laughing at myself in four sentences.

Thank God for true friendship.

FML

FML stands for Fuck My Life. It's becoming more and more popular. It's also dangerous thinking. We should not be training ourselves to think about every little thing that's gone wrong anytime one little thing has gone wrong. It's popularity isn't all that surprising given that kids do adore superlatives. Everything is epic or a total fail. What's disturbing to me is the amount of adults picking up the phrase.

Words Have Power. Anything we say has the right to be used against us in a court of law.Angry words bring on more anger. Soft words soothe. Words educate us about the world and tell us a lot about who's saying them.

So when I hear someone say "I got a flat tire. FML." It annoys me immensely. In the scheme of things, a flat tire is a minor inconvenience. So now I must assume the person complaining is just a whiner. Or someone who just doesn't think before they speak. Or is terribly mechanically inept. Or is already depressed and the tire is a last straw.

When you use the phrase "Fuck My Life" it's giving in to all the negative. It's probably the most negative thing you can say. So when you say it, you are saying your life is worthless and nothing goes right and noone is there for you. Well I regret to inform you, you keep up that attitude and that's what you should expect. People are attracted to positive things. People like fun and smiling. People get frustrated and upset with others who are consistently negative.

YOU ARE WHAT YOU THINK.
If you keep thinking FML, your life won't get better. Another little thing, life will never get better on it's own. Work for it. If you aren't willing to make the effort, someone else will be.

So suck it up and count your blessings and do SOMETHING about the stuff you care about. You can change the world but not by just bitching about it.

What I'm Supposed to Do

Today I was supposed to go to a funeral.
I was supposed to be there for my friend who lost her husband.
I was supposed to be able to help.
I was supposed to be strong enough to do it.
I was supposed to suck it up and get it done.
I was supposed to forge on.
I was supposed to be ok.

Who's saying I was supposed to?
Me. That's the problem. I can't get away from that judgemental bitch.

My reasons for not doing what I was supposed to do:
I didn't know the man other than meeting him twice briefly.
I think funerals are for those who loved the deceased to gather together and bond in their grief.
I get sick to my stomach thinking of going to another funeral.
I'm bad with death. This would just add to the weight I already carry.
I just don't have it in me to force myself to go right now.

What my conscience is saying:
Excuses, excuses, excuses.
You should've sucked it up and gone.
You're a shitty friend.
People can't count on you anymore.
You need to get over the death thing and just do it.
You've just proven that when the chips are down, you won't be there.
You're just a selfish bitch who can't be there for other people.
You just lost a friend over this.(I can hear my mother's voice in this one.)
Go hide away from death and pain, little girl.


Words from the superego:
Knock it off with that kind of thinking.
You know you're your own worst enemy.
Relax. You are allowed to be flawed and human.

I'm supposed to be better than I am.

Hope and Loss

I keep writing and erasining. An acquaintance of mine, we only met a handful of times, took her own life. I have another person in my life who is struggling badly and is standing on the edge too.

As someone who has been through depression, I know the helpless despair. I've had those thoughts that I was worth nothing and life would be better without me in it. How can you bear the pain so long? What keeps you going?

 I just want to scream to the world that it will get better. It will get easier. Second by second, hour by hour, you CAN fight this. You can change your circumstances, change your ways. It won't always be this way.

It's a tragedy. A damn shame. It makes me mad and angry and helpless all at once.

Despair shouldn't win. Giving up isn't the answer.

THERE IS HELP. There ARE people who care.

But I've been on that edge. I've held that knife in my hand. I've struggled trying to keep my head above the self loathing and the hatred and the unbearable sadness.

I kept going. I got through the hell in my head. It took time and patience and perserverance.

It hurts my soul that sometimes people can't.

I lost a friend I never had the chance to get to know.

I'm trying not to let the worry for my other friend take over. I'm so scared for her. It's a hard journey coming back up into the light. It's a battle. But she had the courage and strength left in her to ask for the help she needs. She is strong and smart and brave.

My heart is breaking for them both.

Hope and faith and two of the most precious gifts we have. We have to nourish them.

Please pray for the friends and family Dawn Kramer has left behind. Please pray that my other friend will keep her hope alive. Please pray for her family and friends and the doctors as they try to help her cope.

And if you ever feel like giving up please call me or a friend or a hotline. Please ask for help. We are all in this crazy messed up world together. Please don't let the darkness win.
 

Trials and Tribulations

What can you do?

More importantly, what should you do?

I've finally learned enough that I know you can't change other people. All you can do is decide how to deal with them.

Sometimes, it's worth the fight. Sometimes, it's not.

I can't make anyone decide that I'm a good person. There will always be those who I rub the wrong way. There will always be someone that on a fundamental level I just can't agree with on anything.

On the other hand, you have those few precious people who you instantly click with and know in the course of one conversation that you will always be close from that day forward. Kindred spirits. People of like minds.

I have many faults and flaws. When I'm overwhelmed with stuff, I hide out from the world. When I am busy, I tend to snap at people. I expect others to be open and put their hearts on the table, because that's how I am. I'm a hugger and a loud talker and some to most times lack a filter. Whatever is in my head just flies out of my mouth. I get scared when someone first tells me they love me.

I like to think I have many good qualities as well. I'm quick to laugh. I love discussing ideas and world views. I'm interested in new things. I try to be there for my friends. I love learning. I have a lovely phone voice. I love deeply. I give second chances even when I shouldn't. I'm very truthful.

One quote that's been haunting me lately is this. "People need love the most when they deserve it the least."

But I can't save people from themselves. I can't be there 100% of the time. I can't make them change. I can't dig them out of depression. If someone doesn't want to hear the truth, I can't make them listen. I can't fix them.

All I can do is accept and love and pray. Other man's burdens are not my burdens. I can only carry so much.

For right now, I'm letting go. Goodbye to the drama and the heartache. Goodbye to the sinking feeling you get when someone you love makes a really bad choice. Goodbye to the lack of trust. Goodbye to the lack of appreciation. Goodbye to despair and pain.

I wish you the best. I truly hope you find your way. I hope God is good to you. I hope life turns around and cuts you a few breaks. I wish you nothing but peace love and happiness. I hope you find what you need to thrive and not simply survive.

I will always care about you. Even if you won't believe it.

Missing Pieces (Furniture and Love)

We are like pieces of furniture from Ikea. (LOVE Ikea by the way)-
Work with me on this.

We start with simple function and clean lines. Then we get messy with personality.
That's our equivalent to repainting or embellishing.

We let others into our lives.
 Some help comfort. (Add a throw pillow)
 Some add confusion. (Glow in the dark paint? Really?)
 Some are so close they help support. ( You're getting your books on my couch.)
Some just want to demo everything and start anew. (Beware the sledgehammer of DOOM!)
Some are just not your style. (Listen. You're shabby chic and I'm a leather sectional. Not happening.)

So anyway, the point I'm getting to ......
YES! I do have a point!

Ahem. As I was saying.

One of my support pieces has been removed. We used to be part of the same collection. Mismatched matching pieces. I slip a bit to the side and notice freshly that he's gone. Will I get that support from a new piece? Will a new piece go with my other pieces? Do I need refinishing before I go with any piece? My support piece that I'm missing horribly,  left some dents and scratches but without that support will I just fall apart and splinter everywhere?

Breast Cancer- My Awareness

I used to know a girl named Julia. She was quick to smile, had expressive eyes, and a clear strong singing voice. When I met her, she already knew she was dying. I was friendly but was scared to really get to know someone just as they were about to go. I was young and foolish. It was profoundly unfair that she got taken so young.

I hadn't thought about Julia for a long time. She got brought up today on Facebook. I started crying immediately.

Sadness for her not being in the world anymore and for my friends who were close to her still missing her. And sheer terror and panic because I know a woman who has just been diagnosed.

I'm scared things will go badly. I'm scared that she will suffer. I'm scared for her family because she is the glue that keeps it all going. I'm scared her faith will weaken. I'm mad that I can't be there because I live in a different state.

Most of all, I'm scared because there isn't a damn thing I can do about any of it.

If you pray, please say one for her and her family.

I am what you are - Thoughts on friendship

If you haven't heard much from me lately, you aren't alone.
 I've been getting a little bogged down in the swamp of my mind. No, I'm not depressed.
 Just been trying to figure out where I'm heading and what company I should keep.

 The people around you, affect you. Some in little ways, some in big. Everything you surround yourself with changes you.

And now I'll even be specific.

Ann Oviatt. When I hang out with Ann, I get a little more sarcastic, a little more thoughtful, and am quick to laugh.

Bob Armstrong. When hanging with my brother, I get a lot sillier, more prone to make really bad jokes, and more quick to give advice. I hardly ever curse.

My ex-boyfriend who shall remain nameless. I feel prettier, I flirt more, I relax a lot more, I'm incredibly more prone to speak my mind.

Moriah Youket. I listen more, I worry a lit more, I tease more, I am more patient.

Enrique Sasoon. I'm more likely to be physically affectionate(hugs and stuff-Get your mind out of the gutter people), I eat takeout more, I talk religion more.

I am myself and happy to be myself with all these people but who I am changes when I'm with them.
I'm sure they change when they are with me. You can't help but carry some of the moods and habits of the people you spend time with. 

It's not  that we want each other to change, although of course sometimes we definitely do, but that we react and adapt instinctively to what we find as attractive qualities in our friends. Unfortunately we pick up some bad habits as well. We drink more with the hardcore drinkers, we smoke more around the smokers, we talk more crap with the gossipers.

If I become someone I don't like around someone else, I should simply not be around them.

I really wonder how I change those around me.

Officially an Adult

I can't get away from it. It's looming on the horizon. Only eight more days until it happens.

I'm turning 35. No more young adult box to check. I'm a grown up.

It's not that I mind getting older. Better than the alternative. It's just there's no more fallback to being young and carefree.

Planning for the future is expected and necesary. I worry that I don't have a 401K plan. I dread lacking insurance. Bits of my body will always crack and creak from this time on. If I want to have babies (which I don't) there is now a time limit on my girly parts.

Not to mention that despite a close call in my younger days, I'll be 35 and never married. I'm a spinster. I'm an old maid. I'm the crazy aunt who never got hitched. I'm a few cats away from being the cat lady.

There is a time frame that exists in most people's heads. By 25, I'll be out of college. By 30, I'll be married. By 35, my life will be organized and mostly settled. At 40, midlife crisis time to renew my youth. By 50, the kids should be out of the house. By 60, sweet retirement and bingo.

That plan only exists in dreamland now.

I have a decent job which I enjoy. I rent out half a house with a friend. I have a car that's somehow still surviving. I live nowhere near any family. I have some good friends and some phenomenal friends. I paint badly. I blog. I read.

It's not a bad life at all. But it isn't where I expected to be.

 As a shameless romantic that I am, mainly I'm missing the someone to build a life with. I want that. I want the someone to bring me the thermometer when I don't feel well. I want the kiss goodnight. I want the simple everyday togetherness. Watching tv with my head in his lap. Random cuddling. Making lunches for the both of us. Planning the trip to visit the family. Someone to worry with and love with and trust with.

Well, I ain't dead yet. Hope shall live on. Maybe I don't get to have that life, but just maybe I do.

I am the Queen!

I think I need new business cards. I declared myself Queen Kristen of the Kingdom of Kristen today. I have 15 loyal subjects at the moment. All valiant and true as any monarch could wish for.

Please like Kingdom of Kristen on Facebook.

It started off silly and just got sillier. Titles have been bestowed upon my favored subjects. There are now pictures of me as Queen. And a possibility of joining a League of Imaginary Nations.

I'm having the time of my life with this! Even the roommate's dog has a title.

Next up, our national anthem. Oh yeah! My subjects like to dance.

I hope to be a kind and beneficent ruler. Our Mission statement is to enjoy each other and have fun. I think most can get behind that platform.

If you feel you can't pledge your allegiance to me, you can simply be a friend of the kingdom.

Thanks for playing pretend with me.

Her Royal Majesty,
Queen Kristen

The Fear of Scurvy

I do not eat as I should. I don't have my proper amounts of fruit and veggies on a daily basis. Instead what I do is eat junk junk and more junk all week long. Then comes the point where my body says FEED ME FRUIT! I crave apples or figs or plums or even berries.

What invariably comes out of my mouth is "I can't do Five Guys for dinner. I need green food or I'm going to get the scurvy."

So I get my butt to the grocery store and the fruit looks gross. Overwaxed apples starting to brown. Shrunken heads of lettuce. Strawberries going extra juicy on the bottom.  I'm not eating that. Dried figs and dates and tinned pears it is. And juice. Must have juice.

But something strange and wonderful happened this week. I went to a different grocery store and the fruit and veg is gorgeous! I loaded up with fresh strawberries, blackberries, apples, grape tomatoes, lettuce, and ......  wait for it ....... RHUBARB!

If anyone wants to share a rhubarb recipe with me please do! In the meantime I'm going to chop it up with strawberries, warm it up and pour a little heavy cream on top.

So I'm going to go to two different grocery stores every week now. My usual chain still being cheaper on my regular buys and the one closer to home with the amazing produce section

Or I may just go right next door to my job and check out the organic market.

Baby steps to good nutrition, baby steps.

But hey, I won't get scurvy anytime soon.

Unsendable

Hey you,
I dreamt of you last night. We were young and laughing and terribly in love. Nothing special was happening. We were just talking and joking and being close to each other. It was a warm summer day. The sun was shining on us. The sky was blue and dotted with little white clouds. It was pure love and joy. All we needed was each other.

I don't know why you're on my mind and haunting my dreams. I wish I could talk to you about it. My once best friend. But I made my choice and you respected it.  So I can't call you and ease my mind. I can't run into you randomly and get the hugs that make me feel it'll all be ok. I can't see how you are and what's happening in your life.

I made the choice to try and forget you. To try and move on.

It's not working. I don't think of you everyday anymore but memories of our time together still come up on a fairly regular basis.

You were never perfect. You were sometimes dismissive and sometimes just a jerk.

But you knew me. You saw me at my worst and loved me regardless. Whenever I needed an ear and a shoulder, you were there. I told you things and shared all my secrets with you. All my doubts and fears and hopes and dreams.

I miss you terribly. A mutual friend posted your picture on Facebook a few months back. I happened upon it and sat frozen staring at the screen. Eyebrows raised and a wry smile and a twinkle in your eye. Your absence in my life hit me like a bulldozer.

But if I were to invite you back into my life, would it do more harm than good? Probably. Do I really want to go back to heartbreak?

I've been told I glamorize you in my mind. You're just a guy. But I know you. I know the drama you grew up with. I knew the anger you struggled with. I know the dreams that changed as you grew up and got older. I know your regrets.

I also know you never loved me as much as I loved you. I know it was foolish of me to expect things to change. I know it was foolish of me to hope your heart would once again be mine.

I know it's ridiculous to still want and need and love you.  They say time heals. Maybe my heart is too broken to ever heal properly. At least I'm not constantly reopening the wound anymore.

So I won't call or write or ask friends how you are. I'm surviving and changing slowly.

But I miss you and I hope that writing it down will get it out of my head even though you may never leave my heart.

Love,
Me
 

Dark thoughts/ Hearing God

I met a boy the other day who at his young age has decided dead might be a better option than the world he's living in.  I wanted to hug him and shake him at the same time. Since I've been in that state of mind before and know how the hopelessness just buries you alive I empathize with him. Because I've come through it and emerged stronger, I want to shake him. Snap him out of that mindset.

But I can't. I couldn't snap myself out of it. There is no snapping out of depression. There are days when the sun warms instead of burns and some days that's the best you can hope for.  I will never forget the days when all I could do was look around me to see what could kill me. If I jumped from this balcony, would it kill me? If I just let go of the wheel and stomped on the gas, would I end up dead or just in the hospital? I stood a little too close to edges. I felt the blade until the blood started showing.

I showed the world a happy face so they would leave me alone. I thought that if I couldn't be happy there was no point to life. That combined with low self esteem was a lousy combination. My plan was to kill myself in the bathtub slitting my wrists. I didn't want to leave a mess behind because I thought I wasn't worth the effort of cleaning it up.

I never went through with it. Partly because I'm not a fan of pain, partly because I had a shred of hope left, and partly because I was afraid of messing that up too. I came very very close one day. I had called my friends to say goodbye. They didn't know that of course. They thought I was calling for a quick chat. I went for a walk around the neighborhood saying my silent goodbyes to my home and the world. I took a knife from the kitchen drawer and slowly started to run it over my hand.

Now comes the part where you'll think I'm insane. No worries. I'm used to it.

I heard a voice. It seemed to come from everywhere around me. It was loud and sounded slightly perturbed. But there was also a feeling of immense love.

"Who are you to destroy what I have created?" said the voice.

I threw the knife so hard across the room that it stuck in the wall. I shook with tears and relief and shock and awe.

If God wants me alive, I'm sticking around. Obviously there are plans for me.

No. I've never heard that voice again. I don't need to. In the darkest moment of my life, God was there for me.  And God always will be.

I've had bouts of depression since but I've never considered suicide as an option since that day.

This isn't a story I share easily. Too many people will judge me as insane for it. I wasn't hallucinating. I'm not making this up for attention. It happened. Choose to believe or disbelieve as you will. But don't try to make me say it wasn't real.

Please be kind in your comments, if you have any.

State of Mind

I remember when I used to be in love with the spontaneous. I'd go new places all the time without a thought. I'd make conversations with strangers and make new friends. I was adventurous.

Somewhere along the way, I lost that. I became a fan of my safe little haven where I knew everyone and I felt comfortable. Meeting new people began harder. I wasn't as willing to start a conversation with a random stranger. I became so self concious about every little move I made.

I always assumed I was being judged and was really judgmental about others. Not materialistically. I've never cared much about money but any little flaw or imperfection had me running in the other direction. I forgot the most basic truth about humans. We are all flawed.

It was really hard for me to make new friends in Fl. I was so used to my core group of friends up in CT that I didn't want to make the effort of getting to know new people. My "real" friends knew me inside out so what was the point? I started going out to karoake, which I've always loved, and started making new friends slowly. At first I'd just be that girl in the corner, sitting by herself. I still hate to feel like I'm pushing myself onto someone new. The shyness that I thought I'd overcome long ago reared it's ugly head. It told me: You aren't pretty enough or interesting enough to bother with.

Karoake people run in crowds. Before I knew it, I was being asked to join other tables and chat. Still I felt a separation. I only saw these people at karoake. My karoake buddies were great people but they had already formed their fast friendships long before I moved down here. I'd have a blast when I was out with them but never made it a real friendship.

Fortunately, since then I've met some people who've taken their time to get to know me and ask me to go new places and try new things. You know who you are :) My circle keeps slowly expanding.

I still seperate my real friends from my karoake buds in my head but now the line is starting to blur a little. I was used to being in the leader role in CT. When my friends were I-don't-know-what-do-you-want-to-do-ing I was the one making the decisions most of the time. But those were people who knew me through and through. I'm the odd man out from the crowd that has known each other forever and now am stuck in follower land.  It's a major switch for me. And one I'm not altogether certain is the best.

I've lost a bit of myself. I don't know if I can get that back.

Where this is coming from. I met a few new people today. All nice and friendly. I had a nice time but I'm just so much more comfortable now taking it as a one on one getting to know new people. I felt out of place. And I know it's nobody's fault but my own.

So how do I fix this? Should I fix this? Is it even fixable? Will I always have this bit of reserve from now on? Am I protecting myself this way? Or am I just missing out?

How I treat those I can't stand

Polite indifference. Nothing makes someone crankier than you not caring at all about them.

Only reply. Never inititate contact. I can be in the same place all day long and not speak to someone until they speak to me. Why would I go out of my way to have a conversation I don't want to have?

DON'T ENGAGE THE ENEMY!

Example:
L: Hi Kristen! How've you been?
Me: Hello. I'm good.
L: Anything new?
Me: Not so much.
L: Well.... I should get something to drink.
Me: Ok.

You'll notice I don't speak more than essential and I NEVER ask questions. I don't care how her life is. I don't want to talk about her day. I smile and only reply and never volunteer more than I have to.

You don't have to be mean to someone you don't like. You can just ignore them. People in general will only try a couple times before they get the feeling you just aren't interested in them or their drama.

"NO" DOES NOT REQUIRE AN EXCUSE
You have every right to say no. You don't need a reason or an excuse. And if someone keeps pushing, just stare at them. They will not ask again.

Occasionally, there will be the pushy person who will not leave you alone. Now this is important.

Repeat after me.
I'm not interested.
Not " Sorry. I'm not interested." What do you have to be sorry about? Why are you apologizing?
Just simply say...
I'm not interested.

It's polite. You don't have to swear or get mad. You're not calling anyone out. It's the truth and it works.

Thank you for ordering the Kristen Anti-Drama Kit. I hope you enjoy some of our other fine products such as How to Be Awesome and Karoke: Not just for good singers.

Why hate?

I don't get the hate people have for those who follow different belief systems. Maybe it's just me that realizes just because someone is on a different path than you, it doesn't necessarily mean that they're going the wrong way.

Most times people will believe whatever religion they are raised with. It's drummed in that this is right and every other religion is wrong. That's always been my issue with most religions. I can't see God working that way.

Mostly, it annoys me that it now seems to be the norm to castigate christians. I was raised with a baptist mom and a lutheran dad. Discussing church creed and verse meaning at the dinner table was a normal thing for me. Most of the trouble people have with the church is old testament verses. When the new testament arrived, the old rules changed. Jesus managed to put it all in one  commandment, Love your neighbor as yourself. Regardless of anything else.

So when people pull an old verse from Levictus and say "Oh look at this nonsense that they believe." They're only getting a small part of the picture.

Religious persecution is rampant. People will die for their beliefs. I get that. Stand up for what you believe. But I don't understand the people who don't have a religion or belief system of their own promoting hate against others who do.

I have nothing but love for my friends who consider themselves christian, jewish, muslim, buddhist, or wiccan. I love my friends who are agnostic and haven't made up their minds. I even love my friends who are atheists although I really have a hard time with that belief.

I believe in God. Wholeheartedly. Noone on this earth can convince me that God isn't real. I've heard the voice.(That story can be told at a later time.) I also believe in love. Choosing love over hate is how I try to live my life.

Hate destroys. That is it's only goal. Why would someone choose that?

Everyone gets angry. Anger is a part of being human. I'm angry when I get treated badly. I'm angry when someone hurts someone I care about. I'm angry that so much is wrong with the world and I don't know how to help. But that's just anger. Hate is thicker and much more poisonous.

I choose not to hate. We are all flawed people looking for a way to get by and live life the best way we know how. Hate just makes it harder for everyone.

I don't care what your race is. I don't care what your religion is. I don't care who you vote for. I don't care how much you make. I don't judge you based on that. I care about how you treat those around you.

Thank you for reading.

Follow your Dream!

I had this (drunk but still managing to be charming and cute) guy at karoake tell me I was an amazing singer and that I should be on tv and selling records. I said thanks. He then proceeded to elaborate that I should be chasing my dream and not to let fear and self doubt slow me down. I tried to explain to him that singing isn't my dream. That I'm happy with what I do and what I have now.

He didn't believe me. He rambled on that the only reason I wasn't singing professionally was because I was too scared to try.

I tried to explain to him that I know exactly how good of a voice I have but it's not that fantastic. I can put over a song I know and love fairly well but my range isn't the best and my stage presence isn't that good. I've smoked for too long for my voice ever to be a real quality instrument.

He tried to get me to promise to get a vocal coach and start auditioning.

I started getting annoyed.

I enjoy singing. I have fun with it. I'm pretty good and I do like the applause. It's not my dream. Never has been.

It took me years to get really comfortable on stage. And auditions are awful. I tense and my voice goes higher than it should and I get extremely aware of every move I make.

I sing at home at, work while running the machines, and I karoake.

Singing to me is fun but it's too damn hard to make a real go of it if you have the ambition it takes to get noticed. rying to sing for a living means constant auditions for plays and bands and hours each day with vocal exercises. It's hard and demanding and not very rewarding unless you get lucky.

That is not the life that I want. I don't want to turn my fun into work. If I don't enjoy what I sing, I don't sing it well. I try to pick songs that I'm feeling and sing out my emotions. Take the strife and heartache and good times wrap it in a tune and get it outta myself.

Why do people assume they know what you really want? I know what I want. I'm living the life I want. If I wasn't I'd be trying for something else.

My dream is to work at a job I find fulfilling. To be able to pay my bills and set a little to the side. To be able to spend time with friends and family. I wouldn't mind someone to share it all with. But I am content with my own company.

When I get older and closing in on retirement, I want to run my own little B&B.

They are small dreams but that's all I need to be happy.

I love big dreamers. I admire their passion and devotion. But that just isn't me. Ambition for material things never has been a goal for me.

Go forth and dream your dream and live it as best you can. Don't tell me my dream isn't good enough for me. It's mine and I am fiercely protective of it.

Tapped out

This morning I had a little meltdown. I was so fed up and irritated I started bawling. Thank goodness, I didn't have work today. Why? Let me explain.

I have friends with problems right now. Serious issues like where is the next paycheck coming from? How can I keep my ex out of my life? How do I get through the day without punching the boss? That kind of thing. Add in illness and car issues and family drama and relationship issues sprinkled liberally throughout.

It's at the point where I feel guilty for my stuff not being so bad right now. Yes of course I still have personal drama but nothing on that level. In the meantime, lives are falling apart around me.

And more and more just keeps getting dumped on me. I listen and I offer advice and the there there it'll get better, but really that's all I can do.I'm talking to everybody about their problems all the time. And I'm tapped out.

Partly because I have my own stuff to worry about, partly because some of the people are just making the same mistakes time and again, and partly because I'm rarely even getting a "How's things going with you?"

I understand people get focused on the drama they're dealing with but ask me how I am. How's the family, Kristen? How ya doing since the breakup? How you holding up from your grandparents dying? How's the car running? How's work?

Don't make me feel selfish for wanting common courtesy.

I'm being taken for granted and I'm pissed off about it. Friendship is give and take. It hurts when I'm trying to help with other's problems and getting no concern about mine.

Well, that tells me who really cares about me. And so I get homesick so bad it hurts. I miss the people who have always, always, always been there for me just as much as I'm there for them. Y'all know who you are.

I don't have family in Florida. My friends are my family here. And right now, a lot of you have your heads so deep in your own stuff, you don't notice that I may need an ear and a shoulder.

I'm a good friend. I always try to be there for the people I care about, but right now I'm tapped out of sympathy. You made your mess, deal with it.

I choose Happy

Finally, I'm starting to feel more like me. I'm ready to be social again. I want to be active and play.

How can I properly explain the spirit lifting? The weight of grief and uncertainty are loosening their hold and my naturally bubbly personality is on the rise. What's left is nagging doubt that can't compete with my natural inclination to be happy.

I'm determined to be happy. Happy is the choice I'm making. Even when I was depressed and confused and griefstricken, I chose to think positive. Otherwise it would've been a whole lot worse.

I'm choosing to let go of my grief. I'm choosing to be part of the world again. I'm choosing to go forth and sing. And I'm happy about my choices.

I've never understood why happy is abhorrent to some people. Ick. Ugh. Too fricking happy. Happy doesn't equate to dumb. It always annoys me when I'm being happy and goofy that people assume I'm dumb. My intelligence is something I've always had confidence in. I'm a smart cookie. Optimism is GOOD! Negativitity is the enemy. The worse you think it is, the worse it will be. Optimistic doesn't mean I don't see the world for what it is. I just think it's getting better.

Don't worry. Be Happy. Word to Bobby McFerrin.

Proud of my Gays

I have a lot of gay, bisexual, and transgender people in my life. Mostly, because I take them as they are. I even extremely briefly dated a guy who later got the chop. Who cares?

Why do we care what happens in the bedroom? You love who you love.  Love is not a bad thing. Kind of the opposite in fact. I wish there was more of it.

The main opponents of gayness tend to be religious. There are an extraordinary amount of rules and regs lined out in the bible. But where it mentions homosexuality is in the Old Testament. When Jesus came he made a new covenant with the church. The only commandment we have to follow is his. Love thy neighbor as thyself. Gaybashing isn't loving. He also told us not to judge. He who is without sin should cast the first stone.

Jesus hung out with the worst of the worst and he never judged them. He took them as they were and tried to show them through example and story how to live.

If Jesus is your excuse for hate, then you missed the whole point.

I love my gays. The have courage to be themselves and risk judgement. They stand up for what they believe in. And they love musicals like me :)

Horror

I know. I know. I've been slacking on the blogging. Drama and fun have kept me from it. So let me write about something simple and fun.

Horror movies. Love them or hate them. They're here to stay. As you may guess, my favorites are the ones based on a true story. Since I've had my own paranormal experiences, I tend to be blah on the ones that aren't. I tend to like older ones since they're more about the story than the visual effects.

Quick cuts and swipes bug out my eyes and I don't enjoy them. Special effects are amazing nowadays but I want to get a good look at them not just a random screaming creepy face that disappears in a second.

My favorites are definitely horror comedies. I adore Shaun of the Dead.(I'm reading Simon Pegg's autobiography now.Worth a read.) I can't get enough Bruce Campbell in whatever goofy horror movie he's playing in. The blood and gore don't faze me in the slightest. Maybe the reason I like the horror comedies so much is because it reminds us there is always something funny, even when getting chased by zombies.

I am easily startled but not easily scared.  I'll jump but not scream. Nightmare on Elm Street, I watched as a kid while living on Elm St. The movie has fun but not scary to me. The only part that creeped me out was the kids singing while jumping rope at the end. (1,2 Freddie's coming for you, 3,4 better lock your door...)

Psychological thrillers I tend to steer clear of. I cannot make myself sit through Silence of The Lambs. I'm not sure what it is but on 3 separate occasions, I've gotten fifteen minutes in and got up and walked out of the room.

I don't enjoy being scared and I'm not sure why others do. For instance, I was in Salem, MA during Halloween with my friend Jenn McClendon. We went to a few different haunted houses, the kind where people jump out at you. I laughed my way through them while Jenn left fingernail marks all up and down my arms. And going to them was her idea.

I prefer the originals to the remakes most of the time. Amityville is a good one to compare new and old. The old one has more story and better slow buildup. The new one is full of quick cuts and half seen monsters that were nowhere to be found in the original.

What's your favorite horror flick?

My Boss Lady

The owners of my company are a married couple. Good people with a big vision for the company. The boss lady is from Colombia. She's energetic and goofy at times. It's weird working at a job where the boss says "I love you my Kris!" every time she leaves for the day.

Kris? I hear you ask. I know. Only direct family calls me Kris. But it sounds so cute with her accent. The way she says it sounds like Crease. I can't get mad about it.

So today she asks "My Kris, do you have guns?"
"Guns?" I asked
"Yeah. Guns for chewing?"
Pause. The light dawns.
"Yep. I've got some gum in my purse. I'll grab you a piece."

This is an everyday occurence. Makes me smile every time.

Sllleeeeeeeeeeep

I don't know if it's because work has been busy or because of the diet or because of stress. Or possibly all three. But I am tired. I never get to bed on time anymore. I never sleep well while I'm in bed.

I am tired. Exhausted. I may go to bed at 8 pm tonight just to try to catch up on some zzzzzzzzzzzs.

Might have to start up with the melatonin to help me drift off.

I'm starting with cold symptoms cause I'm so worn out. Need to get this kicked and with a quickness.

Written on my 25th Birthday

Once upon a time...
Now that's a classic start. Who can come up with something new when all the perfect phrases have already been used? 25 years old makes something an antique. I'm an antique.  So a quarter century after I'm dead something I do may be a classic. Motivation is what I need. Forget Boy meets girl. Maybe I'll try Boy meets emu. One day I'll be a triumph at something. Just trying to figure out the when and where.

My Temper and why I don't lose it

I've only lost my temper twice. That was twice too many times. I've been angry sure. I've yelled a bit. I argue a bit. But not to an extreme.

The first time I was in junior high. My brother and his buddy decided it would be fun to go into my room and tear down all the posters from my walls. I walked in to my room and saw the posters ripped to shreds on the floor. The boys took off before I could see them. I took a walk around the block just trying to calm myself down. It didn't work.

I came back in the house through the garage and saw the boys in the basement. I grabbed the nearest thing to me, my yellow plastic hockey stick and started hitting. I don't even think I even said anything before I started swinging. My brother was behind his buddy. His buddy was three years older than me and on the wrestling and football team at high school. Also taller than me by at least half a foot. I remember him laughing at me trying to hit him in the head and at that point, the rage took completely over. When I came back to my senses, his hands were bleeding down his arms from protecting his face. I was so shaken at my own violence, I threw down the hockey stick and walked away. I couldn't trust myself not to pick it back up.

The boys got in trouble as did I.  I believe the boys got it a little worse than I did but I don't remember for sure.

I hated that I did it. I hated that I totally lost control. In that moment the only thing I could think about was hurting them. I just wanted blood. That's not me.

It was years later when I was 18 that I lost my temper again. I had my new car that I was paying for and was mine alone. My little Geo Metro stick shift. I miss that car. My brother was home from college for the summer and since he had totaled the Tempo he took down with him, he depended on rides from me and the parents. I was a little annoyed that I had to go out of my way almost every day to take him to work and back but he threw me gas money. And it made it less of a burden on the folks.

He was working with my friend Jen at the coffee shop and asked me to borrow the car to get to work. He wasn't great at driving a stick and I always warned him not to park in this one section of the lot since he could roll into the guardrail if he wasn't careful.  This was my car and I didn't want my insurance to go up.

He asked to borrow the car for the next day and I said no. I would take him in, I had things to do that day. When I woke up, he was gone and so was my car. I immediately called him at work and lost my mind on him. Did he know I could have his ass in jail for stealing my car? Why didn't he wake me up? I told him I needed MY car not his car not the family's car to run errands. How dare he just take my car. I told him he better leave work and come bring it back to me. He said he couldn't leave work it was busy and no one could cover. I told him it would be a cold day in hell before I let him in my car again.

I called my friend and had her drive me over to his work. I had calmed down a good bit by then and my friend Jen was working. He handed over the keys and apologized saying he couldn't wake me up and didn't want to be late for work. I just gave him a death look and talked to Jen. Jen and I started goofing around in the back room and spritzed each other with the sink hose. Then since I was laughing and joking, Bob thought it would be cool to join in the fun and he tried to squirt me. I lost my temper. Grabbed the first thing handy which was a broom and started hitting him while screaming loud enough that the whole block could hear me. I called him every name I could think of and repeated that he was lucky I didn't throw his butt in jail for car theft. I told him where to go and how to get there.

Jen was standing in the doorway just openmouthed and staring. I told Bob good luck on finding a ride home and walked out. I went to my car. He had rolled it forward into the guardrail and torn off the front license plate. I stopped myself from going back down and kicking his butt some more.

I calmly informed my parents that he wasn't getting in my car ever again. He could find his own way around and showed them the damage. My mom and dad tried to reason with me saying it was so much easier for me to drive him to work than it was for them. I told them I didn't care. He had no respect for my property and I was his sister not a chauffeur. He lost his privilege to use my car ever again. It wasn't my problem how he got to work. I got there in my car that I paid for. He didn't set foot in my car for the rest of the summer.

I haven't truly lost my temper since. I'm scared to. That doesn't mean I don't get angry but I don't get physical about it. I walk away rather than throwing down. Because next time I may not be able to stop.

QUACK!

Back when my brother and I were attending high school together, we would walk to the bus stop. On this particular morning I was thinking about the duck billed platypus.

So the duck billed platypus is a mammal with a duck bill. And there used to be a duck billed dinosaur so reptiles are covered. Then I drew a blank.

I turned to my brother and asked him "Is there any such thing as a bird with a duck bill?"

He stopped dead and stared at me.

"What?"I said.

He threw his hands in the air and said "It's a DUCK!"

"Oh yeah! Forgot about them." I said as I walked on.

My brother couldn't stop laughing. He told the parents who also found it hilarious. And now it's become a running joke.

Whenever I say something stupid, my family quacks at me. My aunt even has her cell phone set so it quacks when I call her.

Another quick story of a time I was a moron. My brother is a comic book guy. He was reading one I hadn't seen before. The Punisher.

 I asked him "What does The Punisher do?"

"He breaks people's spines."he replied.

"That can cause paralysis." I said.

"Yes it can. But usually just death." he laughed at me.

Cheese is the Devil

Cheese is wonderful. It comes in thousands of varieties and I've yet to meet a kind I hate. My favorites run from Brie, a soft spreadable cheese, to a hard irish cheddar. I love mild cheeses, sharp cheeses, hard cheese and soft cheese. I even love artificial cheese product.

Cheese hates me. Lactose intolerance and a love for good cheese or really any cheese is a bad combination. And a remarkably stinky one. If I have more than a slice of cheese in a day, I feel it.

I should avoid cheese entirely. It's a dairy product addiction. I know it'll hurt but I just want a little more of the port wine cheese spread. I may have to run for the bathroom later but I must have the Saganaki now. Saganaki is a cheese put in brandy and lit on fire. It's Greek and delicious and the staff yell Opa! when it's set on fire.

Cheese is the devil. It tempts me into eating just a little more every time. The tempation of cheese is one I will bear for eternity.

Don't even get me started on ice cream.

Wind

I love the wind. Windy days are my favorite days. It makes me want to fly kites or just stand with arms outstretched feeling it blow around me.

Harkness Park on a windy day is my idea of a perfect time. The wind whipping my hair around. Watching the tree tops sway. Watching leaves cavorting through the air.

Sea and air equals peace. At least to me. It gives me the feeling that all the bad stuff is being blown away from me. Sitting on a rock by the water. Watching the waves and feeling the breeze.

These are a few of my favorite things.

Nature balances me. Strong storms rampaging are exciting and wonderful. Dancing in a rainstorm is fantastic.

As our lives become more enclosed. (Work inside. Home inside.) We lose touch with nature. We don't notice the flowers and the colors of the leaves changing. We don't see the field mice or rabbits scurrying through the fields. We forget the beauty of watching a cornfield dance on a windy day. We forget to appreciate the creation we live on. We forget to appreciate God.

I'm going to try to live life more outside the four walls I'm usually surrounded by. I'm going to dig my toes in the sand or the grass. I'm going to take time to smell the wildflowers. I'm going to appreciate the wild wonders of nature.

Breaking Up is Hard To Do

So I just got dumped. But I'm not heartbroken. And I'm not angry. Well, maybe a little angry but that's directed at myself.

It took me a long time to start thinking about a future with someone new and as soon as I begin to trust it..... Blammo! No more future.

So I'll admit that I cried a little. Mostly cause I feel stupid for trusting in something that definitely had the odds against it lasting. And a bit for the might have beens. But I'm not crying for that what it actually was.

And I have already come to terms with a few things about myself because of it. The first is that I'm not cut out for a booty call situation. Screw that. You can take all of me or you don't get any. The second is that if it's not meant to be don't push it, just move on.

I've always known it's a bad idea just to stick because it's comfortable. But I definitely needing reminding.

I really don't hate him. Or even dislike him. He's a good guy with a good heart who just didn't see a future with me. He was straightforward and honest and I really truly believed him when he said he didn't want to hurt me.

It's also, at least for a long while, the end of a friendship. And that always sucks. I'll miss him. And I'll miss his family too. We had good times.

And so begins the single life again. Time to go out and have fun and experience new things. Maybe along the way, I'll meet someone new. Maybe not. I'm happy enough to just be me.

Sorry

No rant or story today. I started a diet and all I can think about is food and how  much I want carbs. Lots  of carbs. I want mashed potatoes on bread. with cheese and bacon.

Um where was I? Oh yeah. My brain should return tomorrow. Hopefully.

Hustling

Every day I see an example of someone trying to get one over on the system. The latest was an article about a lady still collecting food stamps after she hit the lotto. What kind of ethics do we have nowadays? As long as you can not get caught is not good enough.

Whether it's accidentally getting too much change back or finding a bank error in your favor, it's not worth it. Forget getting caught. It's about tarnishing your soul bit by bit day by day.

When you "outsmart" someone out of what's not rightfully yours, it's wrong. Nickels then dimes then dollars. I want to make an honest living.

Honest. I wonder if it has the same root word as honor? I'll have to look that up.

I try to be honest with my friends, with my family, with my work. Little white lies creep in now and then. And I am ashamed of them.

I've been told I'm too honest. But honestly, I think that's code for tactless. I don't want to tell the white lies because then I'll be more comfortable telling the big ones.

Scarily enough, I lie very well. Since I lie so rarely, it's generally accepted as truth. I'm less likely to be called out on it.

The only person I'm comfortable lying to is myself. But we all do that in our small ways.

So ask your questions and I'll tell you the truth. But be careful you can take it.

Oranges are Evil

Ok, y'all. Ready for a rant?
Too bad if you aren't.

I hate oranges. The smell of them turns my stomach. I have to fight the urge to vomit when I'm near them.

Yes, I am fully aware of the irony of living in Florida.

So why when I make it so incredibly clear to all who know me that I hate them with a passion do people insist on eating them right next to me? It's just flat out rude.

I got a custom license plate just so I wouldn't advertise oranges. Mine goes to support hospice.

Then I have people who claim but it's not an orange, it's a mandarin.

Mandarin oranges are in fact ORANGES!!!! Tangelos and tangerines are included in the nasty evilness of being oranges.

I have a car rule that no oranges or orange juice will ever be transported in my vehicle.
If it spills or splits I'd throw up while driving.

Do NOT eat an orange around me. Do NOT ask me to pick you up orange juice. Do NOT tell me I'll get scurvy or a vitamin C deficeincy.

Pulpy nasty fuit of the devil.

Thank you for your time.

Missing Tom

Dear Tom,
 I miss you. Someone asked about you the other day and I had to tell them what happened. I can't go see you. I just can't do it. I keep meaning to and then something comes up. I need someone to stand by my side and let me weep, I keep imagining what your gravestone looks like. I'm hoping it's plain and straightforward. You always were with me. I think I met your granddaughter. She's nice. Will you watch me sometimes? Tell me if I'm getting out of line. Your going ripped a piece of my heart away. I'm still looking for a way to staunch the flow. I missed your funeral. I was sick to my stomach. I feel nauseous when I think of visiting. Do you know how important you are to me? My eyes hurt with tears unshed.
 Kristen
(A letter written to a dead friend just after his death)(and before he came to say goodbye see previous blog  Consolation by the Spirit)

Journal - Karaoke

Another night. Karoake is where I'm found most every weekend. Sometimes you reach a point when you've already sung all the songs you want to sing. Smile lightly at the applause and take your seat wishing you had a happier song to sing. You smile at people you'd rather punch in the head. But instead you smile politely and mutter "Bitch." under your breath. Take another drink and calm yourself down for soon it'll be time to share your voice again. People around you laugh and joke and drink and smoke their troubles away.

Eat drink and be merry for when you sober up that same old shit will be there to drag you down.

It's like a helium balloon. Exposed to heat it rises and flies high until the cold air again returns to leave it a withered sack.

People tap their feet to the beat and clap along for the start of the song and slowly the applause peters out as people get lost in conversations and the mundane nuisances of life.
(2001)

Journal Entry - Karoake/what do I want to do with my life

I sit in a bar alone but surrounded by people I know. People are laughing, showing off pictures of loved ones and drinking away various sorrows. I get up and sing my song curtseying automatically at the end of it. Not caring if applause comes or not. Faking a smile fore the happy crowd.

I go back to my table and take another swig of my drink. Maybe that will give me a real smile.
I light up a cigarette and just watch the people. My mother walks in. Within minutes, she asks me what I'm going to do with my life. I shrug her off with an "I don't know" and a promise to go back to school. Find a career.

A career. I don't care what I do. I don't mind physical work. You sweat, you bleed, and you go to bed blissfully tired at the end of every day. Too tired to worry. But I love mentally challenging jobs too. Find the answer, find new ways, better ideas. Out with the old, in with the new. I enjoy helping people. Notwithstanding my mood tonight. I talk, I chat, I inquire, I help, I give advice, I take advice and I listen.
(2001)

Nurturer

"A man must be strong for you to respect him, but weak so you will  love him. And love makes a choice." from On a Clear Day You Can See Forever.

It seems a fair amount of my friends are Fixers. They want to fix the problems with their men. He has no money, I'll share. He has no job, that's okay, I can support us. He has no friends, I'm his friend. He has no drive, he just hasn't spent enough time around me yet. He's messed up from a past relationship, he just needs a good girl like me.

They try to supply all the wants and needs of their lover with nothing asked in return. Don't get me wrong, I firmly believe you should support your love. But he should support you in return.

You can never expect people to change. Rather you SHOULD never expect people to change. If they don't have to ,they won't. Hardship is required to learn and to grow and mature.

For example, I worked with this dumb lady. She had three teenagers in the house and not one of them had ever cooked their own meal or cleaned their own room, or done their own laundry. She was complaining she wasn't keeping up. I shut her down with a quickness. I was cooking for the family from fifth grade on. I know how to change a flat, hang a picture, cook a meal, and balance my checkbook. My parents taught me. They didn't coddle me. They realized it was their job to teach me so I could survive on my own.

I have limited patience for those who never chose to learn. I'll teach them but I'm not doing it for them. The next time it's all on them.

So it makes me crazy when some guys are taken care of and don't return the favor. That is not a partnership. They put themselves in a child's role rather than a partner role.

I don't want kids. I sure as hell don't want to date them.

Now and then, stuff happens. We all know that. Sometimes things go wrong and you have to retreat back to home with  the parents. In this economy it's understandable. But be a grown up. Find that work, save that money, make it on your own. Don't be lazy. Anything worth getting is worth working for.

Addiction

Addiction is a scary thing. The only drug I'm addicted to is nicotine. But I've seen firsthand what addiction will drive people to. Some of the worst addictions I've seen are behavioral not drugs.

Everything in moderation is a good rule. But one that's hard to stick to. We long to be happy and instead of working hard and making real accomplishments we often take the easy happiness.

The quick drink at the bar to calm the day away can becomes drinking every night to erase the day or just to feel the softnening of the world around you. People drink to alleviate real physical pain, emotional pain, and the pain of boredom. They chase the bottle because it helps at least temporarily. It stops the thinking the doubting. Everything just is rather than having to do something about it. I know a lady who drank her way through not just one but two livers. She died an alcoholic and in pain. I know a man who after 20 plus years of sobriety decided he could handle a drink which led to just one more until he stumbled to his car and on the way home hit and killed a kid on a bike.

Addictions cost us. The money for the booze or pills or cigarettes. The slow buildup of poison in the body. It can cost relationships. It can even cost a life.

All for an easy fix. A quick snort. Just one more time.

Why not just walk away from it? How hard can it be? As anyone who'll admit to addiction will say, harder than they think they can stand. The brain and body become so used to the toxins they begin to need them. Any reformed smoker can tell you, the first quit doesn't usually take. We backslide into the habits even after they no longer bring us joy or even the illusion of contentment. We start up again because we just need to feel normal. We need it to get through the day. Without it there's craving and temper and withdrawal. Which depending on your drug of choice can be agonizing.

And if we succeed in quitting and get past the withdrawal and all that comes with it. Then we can transfer onto something new. We ease off one then overdo on another. Quitting drinking means you're smoking like a fiend. Finally off the heroin, here's some methadone. Sometimes the cure is worse than the disease.

Someone once told me it takes three days to make a habit and seven to break it. That sounds about right. And we are creatures of habit. The vast majority of us stick to routine. Whether it's having our morning caffeine and nicotine or getting blitzed after work.

Am I saying there's no hope? Of course there's hope. It's hard work everyday. Stopping the habits as soon as you see them start. Remembering that quick fixes never truly fix anything. They just leave you more broken in the end. Support is necessary. We are fallible. We need help. Asking for it can be the hardest thing to do.

Take it minute by minute then hour by hour then day by day. Each minute counts. I'm truly proud of my friends who have managed to save themselves from their addictions. It's a hard hard task and I honor them for it.

My fascination with Hugh Laurie

Most of America knows Hugh Laurie as the acerbic sarcastic and injured Dr. Gregory House on House.
He rocks the part. Always bringing heart and humor however dark to every episode. House could easily be written off as just a jackass. But darling Hugh makes him lovable.

I've been a fan of Hugh's since I was a teen. I used to watch him playing the addled prince on Blackadder with Rowan Atkinson. A randy drunken dimwit who couldn't do anything not even put on his pants by himself. It was a role that called for blatant goofiness and Hugh filled it. Tall and gangly he wobbled thrugh his days held up by the dastardly yet oh so entertaining Rowan.

In a later season of Blackadder, his role was that of a gung ho soldier on the front lines of WW2 with not enough brain to fill a thinble. He was the moral compass of the group. Definitely a company man.

He made me giggle and laugh and even occasionally guffaw. Then I saw him in Jeeves and Wooster.

P.G. Wodehouse wrote the books the series was based on They stayed true to the spirit of Wodehouse.Silliness and antics and nothing more devasting than a broken engagement. And there were lots of engagements. It was the language that I loved. Jeeves in his livery when asked"Who's at the door?" would reply "I shall endeavor to ascertain, sir." It sounds so much better than I'll go see.

Hugh in his role as Betrum Wooster, a man of neglible intelligence would wander through life with Jeeeves the stalwart and ingenious manservant by his side.

So when he showed up on American TV playing a sharp as a tack mean spirited doctor, I was shocked. Then I fell in love all over again. I love his skills as an actor and as a musician. His singing voice needs some work but is still vastly entertaining.

Alas, he's married with kids, and I'll probably never meet him. But if I did, I would have to thank him for the laughs and the tears. Well played, sir, well played.

Museums

I grew up going to museums of all sorts. Art museums, science museums, natural history museums. The only one that left me cold was the Space and Aeronautics museum. I just don't appreciate technology as much as people and their history and art. I leave the technofilia to my Dad and brother.

I just want the technology to work but have no interest on how it does. Like cars, my favorite car I ever had was my Geo Metro. I'd rather drive a Smart Car than a Ferrari. I'm much less likely to get a ticket in the Smart Car.

Back to museums....

My favorite museum is The Metropolitan Museum of Art. I could wander for days in there. The Guggenheim while having amazing architecture is full of modern art. Blah to most of it. I want the renaissance section. I love portraits.

I don't get excited to see a yellow canvas with blue rectangles on it. I love texture and color and beauty in my art. I don't particularly want to be challenged by art.

The Met has a fantastic website that I wander through whenever I'm feeling culture deprived. I look at the old masters and marvel at art that has been seen by millions. I would love to visit the Louvre. Since all the french I know I learned from Beauty and the Beast. I may have a hard time of it.

Art museums treasure beauty and style and the grace of the brushstroke. Paintings are only to feed the soul. Or (blech) Modern art which challenges it. Paintings to beautiful to be destroyed hang on walls. Sculptures and statuary even when damaged still stand and are admired. It's the history of what we think is pretty.

I need to hit up a museum soon.

Where did the poems go?

The poetry has a new home at kythanaipoem.blogspot.com Please check it out. New and old stuff keeps getting added.

Perverted Squirrel

I was eating indian food at this really good little restaurant with my brother. Saag paneer and aloo paratha yumminess. It was a sunny and mild day so we had chosen to eat outside at a little two top. We noticed the squirrel immediately. He was fat and fast. He was also totally unafraid.

We talked about taming wild critters as we ate and that squirrels and seagulls were the worst at begging for food. Bob started tossing him little bits of naan anyway.

The squirrel kept coming closer and closer until it was right by my foot. Unsure of it's tempremant, I jumped up. This scared the squirrel. He darted for someplace to hide.

He choose my broomstick skirt.

I was yelping and jumping up and down as this squirrel ran laps around the inside of my skirt. My brother yelled at me to stand still. Which I did immediately. The squirrel dropped and ran for a phone pole and darted up it.

The little bastard was staring at me like it was my fault.

The waiter came out to check on us having heard my cries. My brother said" It was just a perverted squirrel that wanted up her skirt."

Wanting the End

I tend to write out whatever I'm feeling at the time. I came across some old entries in one of my numerous journals. Reading it shook me more than a little.

I had written these during my teenage years when I was suffering from a deep depression.

"Depression is getting worse. Almost burst into tears twice today. Reason: none. I can't stand not being able to control my emotions. I don't want them locked up in a little book, but I ... I just don't know what to do. Do you ever feel when in a crowded room no matter how many people are there laughing and talking that none of them knows anything about you? I'm a disturbed person. I need to go into therapy. Too bad my mom doesn't care. X stop strike that. I know she loves me. She just can't deal with a suicidal (at times) teen. She just says I read too much. Even when she said she'd get me help, she didn't. It just makes me feel like she doesn't give a damn. She is so convinced I wouldn't do anything against her will. She is always disappointed in me. Nothing I do is ever good enough. I'll never get it right so why even try? I don't want to die. I even have a stupid reason for that though. I don't want to make my boyfriend suffer. Sometimes, most times it would be best if I never existed at all."

It gets worse.

"I want to die. I don't want to die but I want to die. Depression does tricky things with your mind. I just want to sleep forever. Never cry again. Never hurt anymore. I've had my share. This is enough. I hate me. Why do I want to die? Realistically I have a good life. I can't control this feeling. I'm so scared I'll go through with it. Why can't I get into a car accident and just be killed? I want to end all this suffering. I can't go on like this. God, please kill me. I'm having a bad day."

" I was going to talk to my guy and tell him what I was thinking but I didn't want to upset him. He'd have been mad at me for even thinking about myself that way. I'm not worth getting upset over. All I do is cause trouble."

"I was driving around today and knew all I would have to do is turn the wheel towards a tree and it would be all over. I kept drifting toward the right and then stopping myself. I just want this to be over."

It's easy to block out the unhappiness of yesterday. It was so long ago. I was in a bad bad way for a long time. I couldn't see the light for the shadows.

I even had a plan on how I would do it. I would slice my wrists in the bathtub. It would be easier to clean up that way. I didn't feel I was worth cleaning up after.

What stopped me is a story I'll tell at a later time.

Four

Mostly this is four Jen.

We were working at the coffee shop and this moron was working with us. Jen being manager had told him to throw more bagels in the oven knowing it would be a busy morning. Instead of the regular dozen each flavor, he only put in 4 of each.

Jen pulled me to the side and told me about it. "Four! Can you believe it? Four!"

Four being said in an outraged tone is just funny to hear.

We started laughing.

"He must only have 4 brain cells."
"His pants are 4 inches to short."
"He has 4 strands of hair on his head."

"Four?" asked in mock outrage.
"Four!" replied in declaration.

The rest of the day every time "four" was mentioned, we'd laugh like crazy.

"Would you like 4 sugars in that coffee?"
"Oh, no! I clocked in 4 minutes late."
"I must've cleaned off that table 4 times."

Years have passed, way more than four, and we can still make each other laugh by simply saying the word.

That's why we'll be friends Four - ever.

I want it all

Maybe I don't get to have a partner to live my life with. Maybe I've had my share. I have lots of love in my life. Great friends and family. People I can trust with my life, my hopes, my dreams. The problem is I'm waiting still. Waiting for my dearie. The love at first sight. The hearts and flowers. I'm a romantic with no romance. I'm lonely. I want easy kisses and soft touches and that certain look in the eye. I want the real love not the cheap imitation. I want it all.

Old Journal Entry

I'm not perfect in any way. I'm not the prettiest. Not the smartest. Not the best at anything. But I'm worth more than I've settled for.

When I give my heart, I give my all. I listen, I comfort, I love,  I help.
 I'm there in any way I can be.

I'm a good girl. A great friend. A hard worker.

I just want someone I can admire as well as love. Someone who doesn't take, take, take and not give. A man who makes me feel sexy and wanted and needed and safe and loved. A man who when I wake in his arms it feels like home. I've had a love like that before and it didn't last. Youth and insecurity plagued us both and poisoned our love. Maybe that was it for me.

Self Awareness

I was happy by myself for a long time. I read and painted and spent time with friends. Then I was foolish and gave my heart to someone who never loved me. I started wondering what was wrong with me. Why didn't he care? Am I not pretty enough? Am I not fun enough? What am I missing that he needs? I felt fat and ugly and stupid.

I was blind. I took all the nonsense I could stand from him. All I wanted was for him to love me. So I compromised myself for the chance that he would fall for me. I left him with my heart broken. Questioning my every move.

I woke up. I want someone who will take me as me. If you have to earn affection and love, then it was never yours. I am flawed and silly and smart and pretty. I love Shakespeare and cartoons. Take me as I am or don't waste my time.

A list of what I used to do that made me happy.

A list of what I used to do that made me happy. 


Dancing around in the rain. 
Climbing a tree with a backpack and a book. 
Hours spent in used book stores. 
Writing songs. 
Playing with bright eye shadow. 
Singing in a choir. 
Making a purse from a maple leaf. 
Blackberry picking. 
Building sand castles. 
Flying Kites. 
Jumping rope. 
Volley ball. 
Hiking down to the bluff. 
Swimming. 
Skeeball . 
Duckpin bowling. 
Somersaults down a hill. 
Picking wild flowers and mint from the yard. 
Squirt gun fights. 
Water slides. 
Picnic in the park. 
Trampolines.


So many things are now too childish and silly. But I like childish and silly.

Abortion - My viewpoint

I know this is a touchy subject that can and may lead to heated debates. I welcome other viewpoints to comment. I will NOT stand for kneejerk profanity. If you have something thought out to say feel free to offer it.

 I am solidly pro-life. I'll give you my reasoning for it and a few stories as well.

My first major problem with abortion is the amount of people who use it as belated birth control. If you aren't mature enough to understand the risks of sex, you shouldn't be having it.There are many different methods of contraception available for inexpensive prices. The pull out method is not one of them. I am completely for sex education for children.

My second major problem with abortion is that it's selfish in most cases. The unexpected happens and it seems like the easy way out. Pregnancy is messy and puts a strain on the body. It can be seen as shameful for the unmarried although thankfully the stigma is decreasing. So rather than deal with the consequences of their actions, some would rather get an abortion and try to leave it behind.

When life begins is a long discussion. I'll simply state for me, it begins when the egg is fertilized and implanted. No, I have no problem with the morning after pill. It flushes the egg out before implantation occurs.

My third problem with abortion is my largest. It's the legalized murder of the innocent. It's killing a baby. We all have a right to live. These children are never given a chance.

What about rape victims? I have no issue with rape victims being given the morning after pill or an abortion. I can sympathize with their plight. Personally, (And all this is very personal) I don't think I would have an abortion if I were raped. I may not be able to deal with raising the child but I would like to think I could go through the pregnancy and give the child up for adoption.

Adoption waits for newborn babies can be up to five years or more. There are people who want these children and will raise them as their own. It is an option not stressed nearly enough.

What about medical problems? I have had two friends go through this. One had a tubal pregnancy and the other severe medical problems that would have prevented her from carrying to term. They both had to have an abortion. It was a sad and disturbing time for both. In both cases, it was a medical necessity.

What about birth defect possibilities? To not give a child a chance to live because they won't be able to live like a normal child is selfishness again. A very dear friend of mine was born with a rare birth defect which required massive amounts of surgeries and not a very good survival rate. She unexpectedly got pregnant. She had a 50/50 shot that her child would be born with the same problems she had faced. When I asked her if she was going to have amniocentesis to find out if the baby would have health problems, she said no.It didn't matter if her child wasn't perfectly healthy, it was her child and she would do the best she could regardless.

What about the right to choose? Yes, women should have the right to choose. I just would counsel them to choose life.

Now to my stories.

A coworker friend of mine was date raped and ended up pregnant. She already had a little girl at home. The guy who knocked her up was a dirtbag who had a violent streak and a criminal history. She wanted more children but was afraid of having ties to this jerk for life. She didn't know what she was going to do. She went to her first prenatal visit and heard her baby's heartbeat and then the next day went and had an abortion. I held her as she cried. She told me she had the abortion and then just kept repeating "I heard the heartbeat." She was filled with guilt and remorse and hated herself. I cried with her. There was nothing else I could do.

I had another friend who was 16 when she got pregnant. By the time she found out she was, the father was out of her life. Her very religious parents had told her that if she ended up pregnant they would have her adopt out the baby to a family in their church. She couldn't take the idea of seeing her child with someone else and had an abortion. She's always regretted it. Not a year goes by that she doesn't cry on the anniversary of the abortion. The worst thing she's had to endure is years after the fact she was diagnosed with fertility problems and has never conceived again.

A friend from high school told me her baby story. Her mother got pregnant and was scared and confused and went to have a back alley abortion. No painkillers, no anything. She bled for a week. Then to her amazement she discovered she was still pregnant. She took it as a sign from God that she should have her baby. She gave birth to a wonderful girl who I'm glad to call a friend.

Another friend of mine got pregnant young and knew she was in no position to care for a child. She chose adoption. She has an open adoption with a loving family. Her daughter is bright and beautiful and healthy.

In an unplanned pregnancy, there is always going to be confusion and stress. Whatever choice is made, there will always be consequences and repercussions. It's up to the woman to live with their choice.

As for me, I choose life.

Winter Blues

Seasonal Affective Disorder is a real and not uncommon form of depression. And it's the reason I moved myself to the Sunshine state.

Every fall, it would start slowly. I'd cancel plans and put things off. Avoid the phone. In general, I'd start isolating myself. I didn't feel up to doing anything. All I wanted was to be left alone. I'd snuggle under a blanket with some hot tea and a book. I avoided leaving the house.

I was sad and tired. I couldn't snap myself out of it. My very persistent friends would drag me out of the house and I had a nice time hanging out with them but was happy to get back home.

I lost my spark, my fizz, my pizazz, my panache, my perkiness for about 3 months out of the year. I found out about SAD and immediately realized that's what was wrong with me. I took some of the recommended steps. I went outside more. Soaking up the rays helps with it. If not just for the sunlight for the peace you find being out in nature. I forced myself to say yes when I felt blah and went out anyway.

The small changes helped but not all the time and definitely not entirely. That's when I decided to regain my winters. I packed up and moved in the dead of January. I went to Florida. I  left snow and came to sun and sand.

After a week, I felt like myself again. I laughed easier. I talked more. I went to the beach and watched the waves. I was home.

I've been down here 8 or 9 years now. The dreaded Winter Blues have only hit me once since the move. It scared the hell out of me. I wasn't expecting it. I only realized my behavior was changing because friends started commenting on it. I caught it fairly early and it didn't last as long this last time around.

I was honest and open about it and explained it to my friends. I'm still me. I'll still laugh if you say something funny. I just need to be drawn out more. Hassle me about going out. I'll have fun when I'm there.

Depression comes in many forms and most of us will be affected by it at some point in our lives. It's not something to be ashamed of. It's just something to be dealt with.

I Do Enjoy Being A Girl

I enjoy being a girl. I love wearing skirts and flowers and bows. I love having breasts and hips and a longer life span. Except those 3 days a month.

The red tide, the curse, Aunt Flo visiting, period. Whatever you call it, menstraution sucks.   The day before my period starts when I'm insanely hormonal and make not great decisions because of it. The first day it starts  I need chocolate as much as air and I cry at stupid songs playing on the radio. The second day when I have a constant back ache and snap at the people unlucky enough to be around.

And we can't talk about it around the menfolk. Well I say, there are more of us than there are of them. We bleed, we cramp, we clot. We have to buy products like pantiliners and pads and tampons. We hurt and get cranky. We feel greasy and gross and get oily skin.

And we go through this every month between puberty until menopause. Years of suffering and period panties. (You know you keep the old nasty ones for that time of the month too.) I started bleeding at the age of nine.

It's almost enough to make a girl get pregnant. Maybe Michelle Duggar has it right. One day of pain every nine months rather than every month. Nah. I could never change that many diapers.

And so I will suffer on until I dry up into menopause. Hopefully my mom is right and it'll happen early for me.

And I know someone will ask so I'll answer now. No, it's not that time of the month right now.

The Whole Wide World

Thank you to those who have stumbled across my blog and stayed to read. I'm just a small voice in the craziness of this world and I appreciate you taking the time out of your day to see what I have to say.

People are reading from across the US and as far away as Sudan, Russia, Netherlands, Germany and the Phillipines. I can't tell you how happy that makes me. Please spread the word if you like my writing and share the website on Google or Facebook.

The best is yet to come. Thanks for watching the journey.