Well I was going to post a short story again, but it won't show all of it. Not being super bloggy savvy, I don't know how to go about fixing that. Guess this one's just going to "Creative Writing" file on the computer. It was good though. I cried through it, so yea it's sad, but it's that good kind of sad. Life wasn't stollen, it was sweetly ended. It's a love story where the couple really gets to live happily ever after. Sucks it won't fit here. Anyone not reading this could spare some answers about how to get longer stuff on here, it would be much appreciate. Thanks!
The Best Hunt Ever
Friday, February 20, 2015
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
The Hat
Writing "short-short" stories in class and I thought I'd share this with the no one that reads this (heh heh). Perhaps, one day, either someone will, or it'll get published and really real people will read it...for real. Yea, I know, I'm a big whino, tiny violin, poor me, poor me, yada yada... ;) Anyhow, here it is.
The
Hat
“This
one goes out to the one I love.”- R.E.M.
Both
of them looked into the glass. The twinkling lights made their eyes shimmer.
The one with the backwards hat frowned a bit. Neither of them spoke. The other
cocked an elbow out across the display case, hair cascading behind as her head
rested on her hand. Sleepily staring from her friend to the glass and back
again, she yawned half-interested, “See anything ya like?”
The
bill of the hat was now pointed up in the air, the back pressed against the
forearms that were crossed on the glass. Worried eyes judged all the items. A
thinking tongue ran dryly over a lip that bulged from a wad of dip. Shortly
after, a bottle was retrieved from the worn out back pocket and used as a
spittoon. “Well,” came a gravely reply, then a bit of “huhuhuhs,” to clear the
throat. More silence. Just as she was going to say something else, the hat
said, uncertainly, “I like them three over there,” indicating to the far left
of the case. After waiting a short while and getting no reply, there was a
hesitant, “You?”
“Oh
yea,” came the laid back answer, “Those are nice. I’m sure she’d like one of
those.”
A
saleswoman finished with another customer, walked over and asked brightly,
“Y’all need some help?” Her blood red lipstick was smudged on her front teeth.
She had on an overpowering perfume and her eyes were veined and puffy. As soon
as she saw the hat, the dip filled lip, and the water bottle spittoon, her
demeanor stiffened slightly.
“Uh,
yes ma’am,” the voice, gravel now gone, was heavily accented with a country
twang, “I like them three, right over there. Can you tell me what sizes they
are and what the prices run?” Eyebrows, ever together. Free hand nervously
fiddling with the hat, turning it forward, then backward again.
The
saleswoman visibly relaxed a little and her smudged lips smiled again,
revealing the stained teeth. She quickly took out all three and went into her
sales pitch. After giving what she thought was a winning speech she was
surprised to see the obviously disappointed face. The fretful eyebrows glanced
from the rings to the face of the longhaired woman.
She
looked just as confused, “What’s the problem? They’re nice rings? She’ll love
any of them.”
“Oh
they’re nice rings. I like em, but the cheaper ones are too small...and if I get the one that fits, she’ll kill
me!” The hat sat back in order to allow slow, but intense, head scratching to
take place. “Maybe we should see some more?”
But
the “more” weren’t any better. The rest went so high that the hat began to be
lifted and dropped with whistles being added here and there for emphasis on a
particularly expensive band. In the end it was “she’ll kill me” that was
settled on.
The
saleswoman handed the longhaired woman a bottle of champagne. Those eyebrows
shot up even higher as they watched, “Whasat?”
“It
comes with the purchase. It’s our Valentine’s Day Special,” the saleswoman
said, smiling, again.
Putting
her arm around her compadre, the longhaired woman said, “Well here’s to you
dyin! There are many worse ways to go!”
As
they walked out of the jewelry shop they vaguely heard the odd looking woman
call, “You ladies have a nice day!”
Friday, February 6, 2015
Bipolars...and ANYONE STRESSED OUT! Go to Counseling!!
YOU GOT ISSUES? GO TO COUNSELIN'!! There ain't no shame in that game! There seems to have always been a stigma attached to "therapy,"
or "seeing a shrink," but if you find the right person to talk to,
whatever hurts inside you eventually starts healing. I don't know why the talking
helps, but maybe it has something to do with having to honestly face yourself,
take a good hard look, and try to begin to understand your baggage. That
can be anything from anger issues, to a mental disorder, depression, etc...
Couples are advised to see a counselor before getting married, this is usually
seen in christian religions, but it's actually something with which I agree.
Counseling for me started out as a bit of a last ditch effort to avoid suicide.
I knew it was coming, I just didn't know which depressed phase of a bipolar
episode would bring it about. My cycles were getting so intense. I would make
such stupid life choices while being manic, then start to feel really guilty
about them, slowly slipping me into the depressed phase, where I drank... a
LOT. It is so odd to me how our tastes can change based on the chemistry of our
brains, it often felt like I was too separate people, like my evil twin. I could always tell when a phase was coming on because I would want to
smoke, drink red bull and liquor, and I just threw everything that mattered
to me into the wind and ruined almost every relationship I've ever had.
There is a line from a song by Tegan and Sara that goes, "I feel like, I
wouldn't like me, if I met me." It was my theme song during my depressed
phase. Thankfully, I gave up trying on my own and went to see the school
counselor where I attended college, and continued seeing one right through graduation semester. I got medicated and the last episode I had
wasn't near as bad. I didn't have the urge to drink really. I did smoke, but I
managed to keep my relationships relatively healthy (in my pinion).
After I began sorting myself out and a rough bout
of the WRONG medication (not everybody needs the same cocktail people, ;) make sure yours is right for you!), I got a bit of a handle on my life and started to feel
like my emotions weren't going to up and run off with the nearest married man
(yes that happened). It got a bit "Girl Interrupted" there for a while, but
eventually, with a lot of thinking out loud and having those thoughts
questioned, I got back some control. It worked so well that I
suggested my love button and I go together! That was given the
"okay," but I'm not sure how much openness was involved at first (on both sides). After having been through that process and observing other couples, gay and
straight alike, I have come to the conclusion that all couples go through,
pretty much, the same obstacle course. How they come out of it depends on a
variety of things; 1. how much they actually love each other and want the
other's happiness, 2. how willing they are to accept that they are neither of
them perfect and have room to improve in order to show that love to one another
in a way they will understand (COUNSELING!).
Christians have something called the "Love Languages" or some
such rot. It's stuffed full of complicated things to remember, when really, the
most important thing is to learn to say, "I'm sorry," and mean it. I
know you're thinking, "REALLY Lady? You're a fricken genius!" but it's true. The hard part is
saying it so that they can hear you. Not your words, those can come in loud and
clear, but the language you tell them in must be in one that cuts straight to
that mushiness they have for you inside. For me, all it takes is a genuine,
heartfelt apology for the hurt done and I become a heart-eyed, cuddly, cooing mess
(It's disgusting. Ask anyone). It cannot be just "sorry things didn't go
your way, babe." The apology must be specific. It shows that she
understands why it hurt me, even if the same thing would not hurt her, and vice
versa. Though...I'm still working to find how my apology will melt her sugar
pot and make her dissolve into a big sweet mess of smiles and "I love
yous." That's why love is not just how you FEEL about somebody. Yes,
that's important, because if they don't love you, GOOD LUCK trying to melt
THEIR sugar pot! For the most part, when I can tell there is tension building from
something I've done, I have to take her a step back. We look at what has just
happened. Usually I have said the wrong thing, not thinking at all about how
she would feel. So, I cup her face and gently tell her to look at me, I ask
"Do you love me?" Of course she says, "yes." I then ask
her, "Do you know how much I love you?" To which she replies,
"yes," which leaves me the opening to apologize and know she will hear my sincerity and we can be okay again. If a couple really loves each other, they want what's
best for each other and it is not hard to want to help them understand that a
hurt caused by them was the LAST thing intended, and counseling explains just that. It is
the love of poems. If you say you would die for the one you love, what's a
little heartfelt sacrifice of pride now and again, if it will bring them
smiling back to you? Or calm the wave of your life you fear will just KILL you? (COUNSELING!) Oh, and by the way, there is ALWAYS something to apologize for in a
"lover's spat," even if you are in the right! It took us a year and a
half of couples counseling to find this stuff out, but we have been deliriously
happy because of it. So, I reiterate one last time, there is NOTHIN' WRONG WITH A LITTLE COUNSELIN'!
Saturday, January 31, 2015
Was gonna ditch, then got an itch (wha ha ha ha I'm so clever...I'll eye roll for you!)
I was almost going to say that today is Saturday and I take weekends off blogging. I'm sure for a "true writer," that would break some kind of golden code that says "you must write everyday! EVERYDAY!" but, oh well. If I am not a true writer, as I have suspected all along, then it's just not in the cards.
But then I thought of a topic: Writing. I am growing to think that perhaps I can be a good writer, if I could actually find some sort of fixing point so that I could then stay ON point.
My life is nothing but phases. For a period of time I am interested in a new hobby and then it just goes away.
I used to journal. I did that for the longest phase, but it was really before my bipolar-i-ness had really kicked in to high gear, so I journaled for most of my youth. I have a whole 2 weeks in Germany journaled. I can pick up that little book and, there is the weird dinner pitas we made by shaving an enormous meat stick, durna (sp?), I think it's called. Anyhow, it's all in there. Pages about what we did, names of places we went, the bike rides getting there, the gorgeous towns, all the things I have forgotten, but loved, are there for me to sit and visit with like an old foreign friend (shout out to Martin! I miss you man!). I still write a sort of "journal entry" now and again. I just write them on my computer and address them to my cousin. He and I were supposed to have been better friends. I think I missed out on something awesome, but he's gone, so I guess it's my way of trying to make up for it. If you've ever had something you couldn't really explain to anyone, but you needed to talk about it, writing it out really helped me through some super manic times. "Letters I've written, never meaning to send." I think that's what that composer was talking about. Sometimes writing letters to people we wish we could talk to empties us of a little heartbreak. Good therapy. I guess that's why it's been with me the longest. But even in writing, I have a bad habit of starting a story and then just leaving it, unable to go back and continue. I'm sure I could, if I was made to, but maybe it's the being in school. Maybe I don't have time. But with everything else I've begun, I've given it up. Painting, I was good, could of gotten better, but I painted 3 semi-ok paintings and then, nada. I started a playhouse for my daughter and it's almost finished. It should have been finished. I got real into wood work and building things and then, I just stopped being interested. (That really needs to get done! There's a pile of wood in our backyard that needs to go somewhere!)
I used to wish that my emotions would just settle somewhere, anywhere, but to stop changing up on me all the fuckin time (now I'm medicated so it's all cool!). But I would love to hold on to this inspiration to write. I just don't know how! Anyone dealing with the same thing? This used to be a topic no one talked about, but now, being crazy is cool, my my, how time flies! I just hope we're flying into a more accepting, aware, and disgusted by ignorance time for the human race. But that's never how it will be is it? I dreamt of a war going on between the species. I heard a panthers thoughts before I killed her, she didn't want to be fighting any more than I did, it was those in charge who made us all fight. Sound familiar? Silly dream, but it shows I've been thinking about how much men still crave control over everything, even if it's impossible, and they'll use anyone they can to make it happen.
But then I thought of a topic: Writing. I am growing to think that perhaps I can be a good writer, if I could actually find some sort of fixing point so that I could then stay ON point.
My life is nothing but phases. For a period of time I am interested in a new hobby and then it just goes away.
I used to journal. I did that for the longest phase, but it was really before my bipolar-i-ness had really kicked in to high gear, so I journaled for most of my youth. I have a whole 2 weeks in Germany journaled. I can pick up that little book and, there is the weird dinner pitas we made by shaving an enormous meat stick, durna (sp?), I think it's called. Anyhow, it's all in there. Pages about what we did, names of places we went, the bike rides getting there, the gorgeous towns, all the things I have forgotten, but loved, are there for me to sit and visit with like an old foreign friend (shout out to Martin! I miss you man!). I still write a sort of "journal entry" now and again. I just write them on my computer and address them to my cousin. He and I were supposed to have been better friends. I think I missed out on something awesome, but he's gone, so I guess it's my way of trying to make up for it. If you've ever had something you couldn't really explain to anyone, but you needed to talk about it, writing it out really helped me through some super manic times. "Letters I've written, never meaning to send." I think that's what that composer was talking about. Sometimes writing letters to people we wish we could talk to empties us of a little heartbreak. Good therapy. I guess that's why it's been with me the longest. But even in writing, I have a bad habit of starting a story and then just leaving it, unable to go back and continue. I'm sure I could, if I was made to, but maybe it's the being in school. Maybe I don't have time. But with everything else I've begun, I've given it up. Painting, I was good, could of gotten better, but I painted 3 semi-ok paintings and then, nada. I started a playhouse for my daughter and it's almost finished. It should have been finished. I got real into wood work and building things and then, I just stopped being interested. (That really needs to get done! There's a pile of wood in our backyard that needs to go somewhere!)
I used to wish that my emotions would just settle somewhere, anywhere, but to stop changing up on me all the fuckin time (now I'm medicated so it's all cool!). But I would love to hold on to this inspiration to write. I just don't know how! Anyone dealing with the same thing? This used to be a topic no one talked about, but now, being crazy is cool, my my, how time flies! I just hope we're flying into a more accepting, aware, and disgusted by ignorance time for the human race. But that's never how it will be is it? I dreamt of a war going on between the species. I heard a panthers thoughts before I killed her, she didn't want to be fighting any more than I did, it was those in charge who made us all fight. Sound familiar? Silly dream, but it shows I've been thinking about how much men still crave control over everything, even if it's impossible, and they'll use anyone they can to make it happen.
Friday, January 30, 2015
Today is parenting: thoughts on education and home schooling
So, I was home schooled half of my preK-diploma life. In 7th grade my parents split and dropped me in a city junior high and "sub-par" is being undeservingly nice. I had to take some test that told me my math skill level was a little weak so, if my mom wanted, she could put me ahead in 8th and I'd have to play catch-up. OR I could be put into the MIDDLE of 7th grade. Let it be known if you are contemplating home school, it's a good idea, but give that child some proof that they are right where other children their age are as far as its brains development. I have thought that, for most of my life, I am only pretending to be smart and that really there's a dumbass inside of me (hfh, guys). Anyway, my mom chose the second. I wish she hadn't because all my friends have always been in higher grades, so it would have been much easier to feel equal to them if I knew my brain was pretty much where their's was. Why am I smart? Well I'm part of the statistics. My mother read to me and my siblings often, not just at night but during the day, which made me long to read. Once I could read, I read well. I wrote well, and after I found out I sounded like a Texas hick, I worked on it and I spoke well. I am a firm believer (not in statistics, those are rubbish, and made up 86% of the time) that if you teach your child to love reading, the rest will follow. Reason: if they love reading, they will understand what they read, and understanding is the key to a kids success through, not just pre-12th school, but college and anything else. Comprehension is maybe the only thing I felt sure I was good at in school, so that got me passed the things I was not so great at, like standardized test taking. But make sure you're kid has access to public school kids on a pretty regular basis. This is how children grade themselves. It is always against their peers. Not other home schooled kids cause (what do they know? They are probably as dorky as your kid). I had a public school friend ask me once, when she had friends coming, to just "be normal, you know, cool?" I think it gave me a complex. I'm sure I was a mighty dork, but I blame my parents. TAKE YOUR KIDS AROUND NORMAL KIDS, or they will grow into real weirdoes as adults. A child was not meant to spend most of its time at home (and I meant that "its." Kids aren't a "who" till they hit at least 17. And that's only cause they can join up and serve this wonderful country that might send them into a useless war and get their guts blown out). It takes a village remember? Well don't keep em out of the village, they'll come through to adulthood like Brendan Frazer on Blast from the Past! Funny in a movie, but very uncomfortable to have a conversation with in real life.
Thursday, January 29, 2015
Today is the Beginning of the Rest of My Life (at least online)
This post will be more of an introduction. If you read my profile, then you've already had a bit of that, but here I'd like to explain what this blog will be about.
A lot of my searches over the years have been to try and help me understand how to be gay. I know that's ridiculous sounding to most people, like me, who like the same sex, but I've really struggled with it. I struggled with it when I was younger because I forced it under, telling myself I was actually straight, "it was just that one girl."
Anybody feel me yet? Hope so!
Lesbian relationships were a foreign thing to me, even though I dreamed of it all the time. Great dreams for sure! I was always the more manly of the two in them, which is a complete reversal for me in real life. Oh well, like I said, great dreams!
There were a lot of things I had to learn about myself before I could admit I was full fledged homo and not, "bisexual," as I referred to myself for years. I really hate the labels anyway. I love people. Particular people. I married my ex for the sex (though the penis thing bothered me). Dumb move, I know, but I was young and trying to force myself to be straight. I'm sure a lot of you (if anyone is reading this) can relate to having a family where being gay is still not okay, and you feel, deep down, that being straight is in your best interest in order to blind yourself to the fact that if you were you, really you, certain people you love would break your heart by seeing you differently and pulling away.
More on that sob story later. I intend to cover the thing that everyone looks for on this earth. The thing I was "hunting" for and found. A relationship that makes a person genuinely happy. Call it advice if you want, but it's a formula that has worked for me and I believe will work for anyone. The problem with every relationship is, it's hard to know if you've finally found the right one. (I'm about to talk about relationships in general so feel free to skip this part for now if you want, but if you're like me, and your web search led you here, read on.)
How to know? Questions to be asked on the spot: does the person you love, love you as much as you love them? I didn't say the same way you love them. That's something entirely different. But do they prove their love to you on a daily basis in their own way? Or is the problem that you don't love them as much as they love you? The formula does not work if both people do not honestly love each other mutually. You are different people, of course, but if the love is there, the rest comes from the work you put into it. Love is more than your attraction to them, though that should be there. It doesn't take a lot because I have found that the more you learn from that love, and their love for you, the more you find them attractive. Just because a relationship didn't start the way that you thought it ought to, doesn't mean that you should throw in and go back on the hunt for that sultry, steamy romance. Those are fine too, but sometimes, as I found out, those fizzles stop being so fizzly, the mist clears, giving you your first real look at the person next to you in bed, and after the "oh shit, I married/with a moron," moment you realize you are totally disappointed with their personality. Now when that happens to you, run! Run fast because you will never be happy with someone you don't really love and respect. To be truly in love means that you really would give a piece of yourself if it meant keeping them here with you just a little bit longer. It means that their happiness really is more important than yours. The reason it works out well is because they see you in just that view as well. When love is equal, there might be bumps, but there is willingness to compromise. Without that willingness to give up some of yourself, there is no relationship. This is all relationships. So yes, I'm gay and I had to learn how the whole "being with another girl" thing actually works, but I had to learn that larger lesson before I could be happy with anyone. My searching experience didn't really lead me to anything like this, so I'm wondering if there are other lesbians, similar to me, but not looking for that "Daddy, boi, bald dyke, etc..." experience. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that, I appreciate our differences, it's just not the type of lesbian I am.
That's what I want to talk about some of the time. Other times I'll be a parent and feel the need to share the things that every parent finds amusing about the developing mind of their child.
There will also be days that the government will really ticks me off (mostly always) and I'll need to go on a rant about our taxes, or the fact that we contribute to the holding of the 34,000 immigrants the government confines ALL THE TIME (don't quote me on the number), that the illiteracy rate in our nation is worse than every other nation on the planet (no idea what it is, but it seems that bad), or how my father, who is 60, is dating a woman half his age (she's 31) while going through a divorce with another woman who is half his age. Do people never learn? (I have quoted Dazed and Confused, the Matthew McConnihay-no idea how that's spelled! Sorry Matt, love your movies-line about him getting older and them staying the same age, many times).
It's whatever comes to mind, really. If anyone actually reads this and has a topic of interest, bring it up, maybe that'll be good material. If I don't know what it is, I'll probably look it up, and then find an opinion about it. It's what I do.
Lastly, I want to be a writer, so feedback is helpful.
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