weighs heavy

born with the troubles of a 20-something man
the shame and the pride
the questions
and the desire to hide.
the need to be seen
a world in which we can confide
a world in which I have never been.

in running there is freedom
there is change
there is chance

in running I found vitality
learning the ropes
making my own reality

The strength doesn't last
to stay keen
you gotta move fast

Eventually you will find
something that will ground you
at first you won't mind
it's something you cling to

the world doesn't lie
it is just full of people
who don't know what they are doing or why...

Even if they tried
even if you pleaded
even if you cried

not everyone is born knowing
not everyone will understand
the secrets are not worth showing
oblivion is the upper hand

I'm only a catalyst.
I am built to take on the troubles of other
I am suppose to be able to take it
somehow I am suppose to keep standing
but the weight of hundreds of years of troubles weighs heavy

And keeps getting heavier.
20 some years at birth
20 some years after birth
55 years accrued
45 years abused
31 years used
20 some years lost
20 some years confused
40 some years mused

I need to shed a few pounds
I need a lift
because these troubles weigh heavy.

Once

I had a friend
Who didn't listen
Who never cared

Raised to be a sensitive soul
No rough skin on her body
She had been to the fire
But never was burned

Every time she tried to touch the flame
Someone was there to put it out
I've sat in the fire
I've let it burn my soul

I lived in that fire
It took everything
One thing I learned though
That fire can't burn love

I'll take my real problems
Over someone else's made up problems

The Science of memory

I found this article.
http://www.babble.com/toddler/toddler-memories-of-childhood/

I find all aspects of the human brain to be fascinating. But memory and recollection is near the top of the most amazing, and bizarre functions our brain does.
Personally, I can remember age 3-6 pretty extensively. I have one solid memory of being 2 (more like 2.5). After age 6, I can remember where I lived, some of my friends, details about my room (up until about age 11) And so on. But I don't seem to have very specific memories in the volume I have them as a young child. I remember specific events, such as my 6th birthday and having 2 cakes. And lil ceasars pizza. Being 5 and playing polypocket in the tub with my brother, playing in the pool with my brother, kindergarten, the playground at school, my creepy basement room, my dolls, all my board games, a jack in the box that scared me, a pair of red sparkly shoes I adored, a pair of pink heart shaped sunglasses. At age 4 I remember loosing a shoe at the mall, going into a haunted house and needing to be passed through a tiny window back into the real world, the birth of my brother, my babysitter. Age three i remember potty training, barney hair clips I hated, A visit to the emergency room (that might have been when I was 4) but I didn't rememeber WHY we were at the emergency room. I assumed it was because Mom had blacked out again. I remember her blacking out often. I remember her blacking out once while she was painting my nails red. I remember that house too. That was when I was 5 I believe. Because I was also in Piano, violin, dance, and gymnastics! I was in gymnastics when I was 3. I remember that. I remember the chalk I'd put on my hands. Back to the emergency room memory. I remember being in a gown, and having a hospital bracelet and being hooked up to some machine. I still don't know why I was hooked up to the machine. But Apparently I had pushed myself up onto the edge of the balcony, that had a chunk of jagged wood sticking out. And in the processes of pushing or pulling myself up on that ledge, It cut open my belly. I have a scar running from my crotch to my bellybutton. That is at least the story i got. My family doesn't much tell the truth, and I wasn't living under my real name at the time, so there are no medical records to find. (I thought I would be filed under charley johnson, and I might have been but somehow I had a different SS#, and any information on Charley Johnson they have, they can not release to me.) I called every hospital Near Spokecan Washington. So I somehow blocked out the memory of getting injured, but Remember the hospital enough to know, I had a gown, a bracelet and was hooked up to some machine. word

Anywho. I have this rich collection of memories from age 6 and before. Then it kinda fades to grey. I remember my 7th birthday, not anything that happened, just that it was a chuckeecheese. I remember the flight from montana to virginia. I remember having a doll on my lap, and I remember my brother crying at the boarding platform. That is a memory that is burned into my mind.

I remember being 7 more clearly than being 9 10 or 11, but not as much as I remember being 5. A lot of my 7 year old memories are accompanied by pictures, or the person I had the memory with. So it is easier to remember. But how is it that I can clearly remember a life I had, on the other side of the country, with a whole different family, whom I've had little to no connection with since? But my life afterward is a pretty big dark cloud? I know from the age 9-13 I had a very ignorant step mother, who made my life unbearable. So I can figure that I blocked most of that out to keep it away from me. Occasionally I will sit and recall certain events, and the entire thing comes flooding back, but that is never fun. BUT that is crazy right? If I sit down and think, I can pull old memories from the pits of my mind. Think about that. That is crazy. Memories I have burried, are never actually gone. SO MAYBE I can pull the memory of my accident out someday. If I can remember every little detail about my abusive step mother, (like the gaps in her teeth, or nail bitting habit) then surely I can remember my accident. Somehow.
Maybe that is how I can remember being 3 so clearly. Maybe when i left I pondered on those memories so much that they stuck. (we have a pretty solid 2 year memory span, so If I left when I was 7, my 5 year old memories where still very active and very present. So naturally a little digging would pull up my 3 year old memories) PLUS everything changed so much during that time, that I am sure its easier to remember due to relativity . Where all memories age 11-13 are a huge globby mess.

Enough rambling, but this is something I hope I can study one day, and apply to child psychology. Maybe this idea can revolutionary teaching method. (thinks about germany's school system... germans know psychology)

100 messages

Some conversations go
From hate to mate.
Some stay stagnant
Some stay loyal

How do you string a man up
What would u use as bait?
Persistent desperation
As long as your willing to wait

One thing to understand
Women don't play fair
They don't need the upper hand
They honestly don't care

I can feel the stench from your lies
I can see it seep through your rotted teeth
It lies deep in your lovers eyes
Obvious as a bloody sheet

Your promises are vague
Your attempts are weak
Don't say I didn't warn you
You (he) are (is) mine to keep.

wrong house, right neighborhood

Today I pondered depression, anxiety, the usual...

and I wondered IF I never suffered the typical trauma victims conditions, 

then maybe that is why I don't seem to connect with others effectively. Meaning, sure I make friends very easily, but somehow there is always a small detachment.

To put it into context, a typical example of this would be my inability to have a close girlfriend, with out getting pissed off at her needy girly ways. I use to chalk this up to being irritated that the majority of women don't take care of themselves and jump from Daddy to whoever without even thinking about it. And that kind of thinking coming from a daddy's girl, is impressive. The few strong women I do meet, blow me away. But I still find it amazing, that even these strong women get weak in the knees for a man with a fat wallet. I could go on about the psychology to this, and how it pertains to me. (because trust me, If I could swallow my pride, and find a man that I could almost tolerate, that would and could take care of me... I would think about it. Because it beats eating ramen under a stack of old comforters just to stay warm AND still shake from the bitterness that is your home. well.. in theory at least) 

But the idea is, I couldn't stomach these women who had every problem in the world, but exactly none at all. Boo hoo bitch, Im sorry you spent too much on the credit card that IS IN YOUR HUSBANDS NAME and he cut you off. Go home and cry about it into your organic curry and expensive whine, and leave my cold hungry ass alone! See what I mean, can't stand them. I always chalked up my attitude about it as being bitter, from my upbringing. Being taught to never depend on anyone, even my own family. Which is halfway true, but then I started realizing, I always manage to find excuses to not confide in someone. I think MAN we could so be best friends, if it wasn't for your intolerable WHINING. 

The cool thing is, I use to hold my lovers to the same standards. They can't be whiney, needed, stubborn, aggressive, abusive, ignorant, etc. But, when they say love is blind, its the truth, because you never see any of that coming. then bam, a year later your like.. why am I still with this boy? He acts like a toddler. But again, that could be a whole other round of psychology based on "boys never grow up" bullshit. 

Moving on. My point is, instead of all this being justified by skinning my teeth with psychological jargon. I think it boils down to trauma. First, a building trauma, made up by a series of unfortunate events that lead my preschool life by its nose hairs. I mean, imagine being 3 and sleeping in different houses every few months. then stretch that concept a few years, and add hotels, trailers, and trucks to that equation. Built trauma. 

Then there is the one time trauma. As seen in my post "Cuffed at midnight". Parent separation round 2, because round one, revolves around my dream. So riddle me that. 

Then there is living with the trauma afterwards. And then experiences rounds of neglect and abuse throughout your preteen years, while trying to heal the trauma from early childhood. 

Its like a mixing pot of nonsense.

And now, at age 22 I think I know exactly what I did to survive it all. 

I think the night my mom got arrested, a part of my brain switched off, or shut down. I acted on instinct, then never stopped. 

I remember recalling not feeling the cold while standing on the playground at school that following winter. 

I remember coming in from outside, peeling off my wet clothes that I had packed snow on to. Then taking off my shirt, and not feeling naked as I walked into my first grade classroom.

I remember the following spring, playing on the playground, running around barefoot. Then running through a puddle and falling on my back. I just laid there until my dad yanked me up and whooped my ass for being stupid. 

I don't remember being sad when I said goodbye to my grandma or little brother. I didn't cry until I got older. 

Its almost as if i put my brain on auto pilot. 

I didn't even have many wants or desires during that time period. I didn't care. 

I saved my allowance every week during third grade, because I didn't care to use it. When we moved my dad found $250 some dollars stuffed into a penny bank. 

I didn't start feeling again until I felt anger. 

Anger and hurt towards my step mom who came into my life when I was 10. 

that is where it began, crying when Im angry. 

I can't divide the two feelings very well, but Im getting better. 

I made myself numb and defensive to the world around me, and I finally realize it 15 years later. 

Self harm is one thing, and often isn't performed with the idea of death in mind. It doesn't even cross your mind. Its wondering how something feels, and if you can control how it feels. Its understanding fear. I didn't do self harm as much as I whiling found harm.

Like 18 piercings in one year. just to see if my body could handle it, and rate the pain scale. 

Have you ever been so scared, your brain shuts down?

it feels like it skips a pump. the blood just stops. and your eyes shake from the tightening of your nerves. 

can you imagine that being triggered by a memory? or a thought? or a place? 

that is anxiety

but that is also emotional detachment. Once your brain enters that stage, it has shut down the pain receptors and response reflexes. So If you are confronted with death, you most likely won't feel most of it. maybe a little pinch. -_0 

I think I spent 3 years with my brain like that. frozen. I lived in motions. I did this, then that. And enjoyed being alone. 

so when the anger happened, it was the only thing that could make it through the freeze. It burned, and I could feel it. So I used it (no regrets)

It wasn't until 2009, that I started feeling sadness. And even that was somewhat filtered. 

Like Im thawing out, but there are still parts that are frozen solid. 

I can feel my body again. I can feel my skin, my feet, my hands. But I feel almost alienated, like Im not suppose to be in the physical nature I am in. 

I don't feel like I am explaining this accurately, mostly because I am really tired. But its exciting, and a little scary at the same time. But if this is how you get over trauma, I am all for it. Even if it makes me a wreck for a while.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emotional_detachment

http://www.helpguide.org/mental/emotional_psychological_trauma.htm

Childhood trauma results from anything that disrupts a child’s sense of safety and security, including:

An unstable or unsafe environment Separation from a parent Serious illness Intrusive medical procedures

Sexual, physical, or verbal abuse Domestic violence Neglect Bullying

I don't want to be scary

I want to be inspiring.
I want to carry my life
in representations
scattered on my body

I don't want children
to see me as the monster
I want them to see beauty
in the person I am

I can't convince adults
to see me as anything
more than a punk

I can't tell them
demons only live
in their mind

But I can help children understand
you can't judge a person
until you  know them

you must be weary of everyone
but still exude trust and love
because there is nothing else

Don't classify bad people
by appearance or style
classify them by deeds done

and you will understand

Memory #the flight

this is where the story begins, then goes backwards and forwards simultaneously.

July 1998
Two years ago, my life was perfect. Well maybe thats an exaggeration, but I loved my life.
I was 5, and I had everything I could ever want. Even a pony I called "pinky"
My little brother was a year old, I lived in a few different houses. All of which were beautiful. I was in gymnastics, ballet, tap, jazz, played piano and violin, and got my nails done with my mother every other week. Oh and I had dresses, hundreds of dresses fit for a princess.

But a little over a year ago, my life started to change. I had to become a different person, very quickly. My mother, my father, my brother, and I were in great falls to see my grandparents. It was christmas. I sat at the window, and watched the snow fall. Then a car pulled up to the curb. It was a familiar car. <insert dream here). I ran to my mother. "Its that man! the one from my dream!" Moms eyes widened. She ran to the window. Then grabbed me and carried me to the basement. "Mom?" I asked "What are you doing?" "Shhh Quiet" "Mommm!" "Shhhh!" She placed her hand over my mouth. I heard knocking at the front door. Grandma answered. I heard a deep voice. I couldn't hear everything but I heard "Presents for Charley" and got excited. Moms grip tightened. I heard the door close and broke free from mom. I ran upstairs. "PRESENTS!" I squealed. Mom was right behind me. "Charley for christs sake be quiet!" She went to the window. "Don't worry, he's already gone." Grandma said. "Presents!" I tried again. "What presents?" Grandma said.
Im not sure what they did with the presents, and at the time I had no clue that man was my dad. In my reality, my dad was the man who had lived with me. The man who came to the house that day, was a man who had haunted my dreams since I could remember. I tried to get information from my mom and grandma, but they wouldn't tell me anything. Said I must have made it up. We stayed through my birthday, age 6. I had two cakes. One barbie one and one chocolate one. And we ate little ceasars pizza, my favorite. Shortly after that we went to live in a small house on the outskirts of town. The house had pink shudders, and it was there I swallowed a penny. 3 months later, we were back at grandmas. Mom and the man who I thought was my dad, were in trouble. I don't know what they did, or who was after them. But we had to split up. Mom, my brother, and I stayed with grandma, and the man had to run. I guess I can refer to him as my step dad, no matter how weird it feels. That is the last time I saw him. A few weeks after he ran, there was another knock on the door. It was my dad, the man from the dream. And this time, we couldn't hide, he had cops with him. Mom had to let him visit once a week, after a few weeks he was allowed to take me places. We loved McDonalds and the park. He even taught me how to play checkers. I didn't mind this man, I still don't know why mom didn't like him. Maybe its because he brought the police to her, and I know mom doesn't like police men. And the police men don't like her. In late May of that year, they came and took her. In the middle of the night. (insert cuffed at midnight memory)

After they took her, the life I knew fell completely apart. I had to go live with my real dad, the guy from my dream. Which was pretty cool. He tried to feed me these flintstone vitamins that I hated. So i hid them under his toaster and fridge. He found them eventually. He had two cats that I loved playing with, and was very kind to me. But my little brother didn't get to come with me. He had to stay with grandma, because his dad had run away a few months earlier. On the weekends I would go to grandmas house to see him, and her, and we'd all go see mom in jail. They moved her quite a bit, so sometimes we had to talk to her through glass, on a phone, and sometimes we'd see her in a small room with tables and chairs. A few times we got a nicer room, just to ourselves. But that didn't happen often. Mom asked me a lot of questions about my father. Where we lived, who I met, what he does. Dad didn't like it very much. I guess that is why we are moving. He waited until I finished 1st grade, then called his mom, my nanny, to come get me and take me to Virginia. That is where I am now. Sitting in the boarding terminal, waiting on my plane. My little brother is standing on the other side of the glass with his face all pushed up into it. My grandma is next to him. Only grandma, not grandpa. He died a few months ago. I made a few silly faces at Dalten, and he made them back. Then grandma bent down, and said something to him. His face fell. Tears and snot streamed down the glass. My nanny grabbed my hand, it was time to go.

In virginia, I won't be Charley Johnson, I'll be Charlene Schillinger.

surrounded

needing time.
untangle unwind
from the chaos
the reality that is mine

seeing age in a different light
being alive isn't a privilege
darling its a fight

Fix this and replace that
everything is insured
live for tomorrow
prepare for it today

we simply don't know
any other way

and in my heart, in my mind
I know this is wrong
we see it as normal
life isn't suppose to be long

only the good ones die young
23 is the magic number
he knew it all along
it's magic from his slumber

my clock is winding down
and I want you to know
i love my small town
with six months to go

i hope you read this
and understand
the plan was his
my deck is his hand.

Forgotten

All it takes is one picture
To send me whirling
Out of control
Disconcerting
All it takes is a phrase
From a time
Perhaps a place
Ill loose my balance
My heads in space

Ill forget who or why
But I can remember how it felt
No matter how much time goes by
The anger doesn't want to melt

While I get older
And continue to loose touch
Ill remember those places
I once loved oh...so...much

Memory #James and the Giant Peach

This is a funny memory
it is when we lived on a Farm, that I was recently informed is IN montana. I thought it was in Oregon. But my childhood time line is all screwed up so, bare with me as I work out the kinks.

So Helena, MT. I might have been 4? I can not remember if Dalten was born yet or not, so that makes it hard. Most of my memories have him in them, so it is a little weird that he is not in this one. (which is kinda scary bc that means the bulk of my memories and stories come from 2 years of life so...wow) But I want to say he was born, because I vaguely remember a lecture from mom, telling me not to jump off the deck into the swamp because there were bugs, and I shouldn't set a bad example for my brother. So. theres that. but That could be another misplaced memory.

ANYONE on to the silly story
We had just moved in. All the lectures were over. (don't go past the mailbox, stay out of the swamp, only ride the horses if an adult is with you, leave the cows alone. blah blah blah) And I was set free to roam the place. It seemed like a log cabin. everything was wood. I remember this was the first time I lived in a place with brown walls. and all wood floors. and there was a front porch and a back deck. With sliding glass doors (which seemed to follow us to every house we lived in!) I can not remember if I was playing in the room that was suppose to be mine, or if it was a designated play room/ tv room or what. I have a faint memory of there being stairs, so im thinking the bedrooms were upstairs. but I have no memory of them OR the bathroom, which is odd. But anyway. After exploring the place a bit, I found myself in this room. A TV and a computer were hooked up. I remember my stepdad showing me how to play a video game on the computer. They revolved around nursery rhymes. "She'll be common around the mountain when she comes!" and such. I don't remember the actual game, or what the point was. But it was moderately entertaining. And by moderately I mean it kept me occupied for a whole 5 minutes. Then I started digging through boxes, in hopes that I found a movie. Because my favorite thing to do is watch TV. I tipped over a few boxes and made a few bangs. But finally I found the box of movies! The first movie I pulled out was "James and the Giant Peach" It looked interesting. And somehow it reminded me of one of my favorite movies "Mars Attacks" which is a movie my mother could not stand. Which made it even better. So naturally I shoved that movie in the VHS, and sat two inches in front of the TV to watch the entire thing. The peach in the movie looked so good! It was juicy, and orange, and everyone was eating big sloppy chunks of it. I was literally drooling. So I stopped the movie and went to ask mom for a peach. I walked by the kitchen and saw the fruit bowl on the breakfast bar. IT HAD A PEACH IN IT. I slid one of the bar stools out and climbed up it, reached out for the peach, and wrapped my hand around it. It was furry.
shocked I dropped it. Then chased it across the kitchen to the glass doors. I picked it up and looked at the forbidden swamp. Either I was going to get in the swamp or eat the furry peach. I had to pick one, I picked the peach. The movie didn't have a furry peach, but I figured it was nothing and opened my mouth very wide and CHOMP! took a very large chunk out of it. It sat in my mouth for a second. I felt the little hairs touch my tongue. It was the most disgusting taste I had ever experienced. I quickly opened the glass door and ran to the edge of the deck and spit that nasty peach out! Then I threw my peach as far as I could into the mud. My mom came running out right after that. "What are you doing?" "You better not be trying to get in the swamp!" "Why did you throw that peach!"
After some confusion and chaos, Mom figured out all that had happened. and laughed her ass off. Then told my step dad so he could laugh his ass off. It was not funny to me. I was very upset.
My mom went into the kitchen and grabbed another peach. Then explained that you have to take the skin off, just like an orange, And then you can eat it. She peeled one for me, but I still wouldn't touch it. I did not try another peach until I was 9.

eyes on me

Sometimes I feel like everyone is watching
waiting
to see me break down
But I am the one waiting
waiting to break free
willing to let go
but intimidated by the eyes that are on me

I am aware of my symptoms
I've acknowledged my flaws
but I struggle with
the errors that are yours

If you can live with being you
why can't I live with being me
doing the things that you do
keeping your eyes on me

because I know you are watching
waiting
to see me break down
but I am the one waiting
waiting to break free
wanting to let go
but intimidated by the eyes that are on me

are you strong enough
to question
all that is defined by
your perception?

your outside the norm
yet I make you uncomfortable
outcasted from the outsiders
i'll never fit in

So you can keep watching
waiting
to see me break down
but i'm the one waiting
waiting to break free
ready to let go
just keep your eyes on me.

memory #watever.

I will either figure out a productive way to number these memories, to just resort to naming them
none the less.
I have a photo to go with this one, and will scan it in eventually

This is a very short memory, it's a memory of my 5th birthday. I believe this is the first time we came back to Great Falls after we started running. It was a brief visit to my grandma's and grandpas house. I am not sure where we were going, or where we were coming from. My only guess is that we might have been on our way to the house we got forced out of in the middle of the night... because we spend a spring and summer there. and then got kicked out and left a lot of our stuff behind. That is also the place we lost our truck. but that is another memory.
This memory is about my 5th birthday.

All I really remember is: having 2 cakes. One Barbie, and I believe the other one was just chocolate. (ill reference the photo) The barbie one was neat, because it was actually a barbie, and the cake was the gown on the barbie. It was my favorite. I also remember having pizza, our usual pizza, from little ceasars? possibly. A thin crust square pizza, cut into little rectangles. It was my favorite, and I'll have you know that is one of many foods I searched for when I moved to the east. one of many.

I don't really remember why I had two cakes, or why our visit was so short. I also seem to remember us getting there really late at night. (well for a five year old) And I believe Dalten was sleepy or sleeping... and like I said before, we were not there for long. Kind of passing through.

I don't remember any presents. But I do remember wishing Grandma would give me her glass slipper. I use to try and fit my foot into the glass slipper Grandma had on display in the china cabinet. My foot was always just a little too big. Which was natural since it was a perfume bottle and not an actual shoe!

I did not get the glass slipper. Although that might have been the year I got my giant penny.
Pennies are another memory. I got a giant penny AND a penny bracelet one year. Maybe it was that year? Maybe that was right before we moved to the house with the pink shutters, but I don't remember being at that house long either. but who knows.

save those memories for later.

my story part #-Cuffed at midnight

I can't number this memory, because it doesn't immediately follow my dream. The dream started when I was 3 and continued up to this point in my life. I had just turned 6, I believe it was spring, maybe summer. 1997.

My step dad was gone. He had left a week before.

I was told he was going to our new home, and we would follow
I was told a lot of lies

Dalten and I did not want to be alone that night, sleeping in the guest room of our grandmothers house.
The fish tank freaked me out.
So mom told us we could sleep in bed with her in the next room.

The bed was small, but we all fit.
Mom slept on the outer edge so we wouldn't fall off
I slept next to her, and Dalten slept next to the wall.

I did not have any lucid dreams that night. It was quiet, and everything was very still.
I was awaken by loud banging on the front door. And a mans voice. Shouting muffled demands.
When I opened my eyes I saw the room light up with alternating flashes of blue and red light.

I heard grandma open the door. I felt mom move.
I held on to Dalten.
Loud footsteps came down the hall. I heard my grandma say "Her children are in there with her. They are sleeping."
Then the lights came on.
They hazed my eyes,  temporarily.
The man said a few words. Things like "Get up. Your coming with us"
or something. He was talking to mom.
Mom and grandma both pleaded for them to be quiet so they wouldn't wake Dalten and I up. My eyes kept opening and shutting as I tried to force them to focus, and attempt to wake up.
The man that had mom was a police man.
He directed her to pack socks and underwear and nothing more. I rolled over to Dalten who was still sound asleep, and covered his ears.
Then I heard the handcuffs, and mom was taken away.
The lights went out. And soon the flashing lights disappeared too.

I was too scared to move. And still had a half sleep hanging on to me. My grandma came in to check on us. I stayed very still, and held onto Dalten. I did not know what just happened. And I didn't yet know that mom was not coming back. But I knew what just happened was not good. And for some reason I begun to cry.

As quietly as possible until I fell asleep.

Scars behind bars

Marks of time

dent my skin

rot my teeth

impair my vision

            A birth of crime

            our reality's sin

            this life of mine?

            where do I begin.

Twenty two years 

of holding this weight

fighting this fight

escaping my fate

            Words are useless, 

             in a manner of speaking

             I am speechless

            what am I seeking?

Brittle is stone

that is beaten

we are all alone

eat or be eaten

                as I sit here alone

                in a silent home

                this love is unknown

                and still....

                

      I am on my own.

                

                

my story-part 1-the dream

I am going to layout my story here. raw. and informal. this story is to be passed to each of my brothers so they can fill in the blanks sort of speak, and add their stories where they fall in the time line of events.

I have been trying to put this in writing for years. At least 10 if not more. The best part of this story, or rather the story is that it doesn't start with me. And it won't finish with me. Its a life story based on events that had little to do with me, but somehow I fell into the mix, the plan. The "whatever we are doing on this planet/time/space/existence."

I have all these memories, some very vivid and in full detail. Some are hazy, and confusing. And some, as I found out this year, are misinformed or materialized memories made from lies from my family. Regardless of their origins, these memories were all I had of my story in the beginning, and most of what I had until this year.

To start things off, I can bring you up to speed. I haven't seen my mother in 16 years give or take. I haven't seen my oldest brother since 2001, I briefly saw my next oldest brother a few months ago after not seeing him since 1998, I flew to salt lake city this year to see my younger brother graduate and hadn't seen him since he was 2, and that is where I got to meet my youngest brother for the first time. He is now 10.

Over that span of time, all I had was a handful of photos, some stories, and my memories. Keeping contact became increasingly difficult, being children. Many of us moving around a lot. Obviously before too long, we found each other on Facebook, thanks to the oldest of my younger brothers.

I always begin my story with a dream I use to have, its not the beginning of the story by a long shot but its a good example of how my entire childhood, and now adulthood has been. I don't remember having the dream before age 3. I dreamt I was in a white fluffy dress, possibly with lace, sitting on a very clean white rug, also fluffy. I could hear shouting from another room in the house, it was moving closer to me. I heard the voices round the corner. Shoes stomped around me, they belonged to a man and a woman. I looked up and recognized my mother. I followed her gaze across the room to a tall man with brown hair. I did not recognize this man. He was packing some bags, and when he was done he slung them on his back and walked over to me. My mother was still shouting. He picked me up, I looked into his eyes. They were green like mine. He said "I will come back for you." and sat me down. Then he left. I felt my voice ring out of my throat "DAAAAADDDDYYY!" I cried. The word felt foreign, unnatural but I kept screaming it. I climbed up the couch to look out of the window, the man had gotten into a blue car, and was driving away. I could feel tears on my face. I made my way to the door, and sat in front of it. Saying "Dad...daddy...daddy...dad" over and over, getting quieter as time passed. I was almost silent, when someone knocked on the door. A shock flew threw me. My mom came running into the room, and moved me away from the door. As she opened it I could see a tall thin silhouette of a man. I tried to focus my eyes, I could see dark hair. I stood up and shrilled "DADDDDYYY!" and ran to his open arms. I felt his hands wrap under my arms as he pulled me up into the air. "Dadddddyy!" In that moment I saw his eyes, and they were brown. I tried to retract myself from the man and I felt moms hand on my back, pushing me forward. "Look honey, she is already calling you daddy." That is when I'd wake up. I was the single most terrifying feeling I'd ever experienced. Not only was the dream terrifying, but waking up didn't solve my problem. The man who picked me up in the end of the dream was  my dad, and the man who left in the beginning of my dream was a complete stranger. 

Orange is the New Black

this is yet another post that is going to span from this blog to my other blog. 

this is about stereotypes again. 

I recently finished season 1 of "Orange is the New Black" a netflix original. Its about a "yuppy" woman who had a crazy time after college, got involved with a woman who was in the drug ring, and smuggled some drugs into the country or something. She gets scared being in the middle of the danger, and leaves. 8 years later, yuppy girl is about to be married, and gets arrested for her crime. Its a long and awesome story, so I won't go into detail or spoil it for anyone. But ultimately the show breaks down every type of prison stereotype there is and presents it in a very real way. 

My favorite has to be "crazy eyes" Im going to spoil this so...SPOILER ALERT!!! You first meet crazy eyes during the very first lunch room scene. She is eyeing blondie (the yuppy) and motions for her to sit down. Another girl grabs blondie and says "oh you don't want to sit with crazy eyes" and ushers her over to their table. Blondie is having a really hard time adjusting to prison life, being an over priveledged white girl. And crazy eyes notices, so she lends out a helping hand by sharing food and other trivial items. Blondie is thrilled, thinking she finally made a real friend. But crazy eyes gets touchy feeling. Which blondie feeds into a little at first, one for the help and company, but also to keep a personal enemy at bay. It goes a little too far, and Blondie has to let Crazy eyes down gently. Everything is seemly fine. A month or so goes by and Crazy eyes is talking to blondie about her life. Crazy Eyes actually got in jail because she has a legit mental condition that flares up, and causes unorderly conduct. The judge placed her in a prison psych ward. But the psych ward in a prison, is worse than the actual prison. Because they keep you sedated and tied down, or in a cage. So Crazy Eyes mom opted for her to go to prison instead. Blondie is astonished by this discovery. As are the viewers. Then Crazy Eyes asks Blondie "Why do they call me Crazy eyes?" 

its clever writing, and now I just sit and wait for season 2. 

boo

Awesome baby shower gift

< 3

Berlin

This is going to be a dual post. I am going to post this to both of my blogs, because it is about both my teaching/child development life, and my cultural social life. Or life as a human being.

So around August/September last year I had found a site that hired Au Pairs for international work. I have always wanted to travel, but have never been able to mostly because of money, and definitely because of time. (always working on something) I have lots of family in Berlin, being the granddaughter of immigrants, so my first choice was to go there. My plan was to go this month this year actually. Because my lease would have been up at the end of this month. I was all about it. The center I worked for seemed to be going to the shitter, financially, with our hours getting cut, and people being let go and so on. I knew I had no future there anyway, so I figured planning my next step was crucial. (I was in a weird place anyway, since I had to sign a new lease at my apartments, and get a new room mate, it was like I could just bail any time) So I started looking into getting everything I needed to make this move possible. The Au pair program has a minimum of 6 months. So I would go over now, and stay until December. It would have been a nice break from people, family, chaos. A good friend got me a learn german cd and booklet and I started using my dad's old text books to teach myself. Around this time, I started dating JJ. I told him about my plan, and he was all for it. Why not take the opportunity to do something awesome. He would miss me, but it was worth the experience, plus he promised he would visit at least once if not twice. So I got my passport, and started looking into the nitty gritty application process. I found that because I wasn't staying a year I would have to pay for my own plane tickets. So i needed $1,000. I figured ok..still worth it. Then I looked at the pay. I would be making $400 a month. I would be living with the family, and I would get a travel card, with money to put gas in the familys car if they let me use it, or I would use it for bus fare and what not. I would also have meals provided, and work 5 nights a week at least 3 hours, but no more than 6. It still seemed ok, but I was worried. What would I do with my car? Sell it then scramble to buy a new one? keep it, and try to keep payments and insurance on it while I am overseas? Dad could take care of it right? What about my phone, could I switch plans to international? How much would that cost? And would $400 be enough to pay for my car/insurance/and a phone bill as well as keep up with every day life AND I would also have to be in a german language class while I was over there and I was unsure if that was paid for or if I had to pay for it, and the reality was I wouldn't be making enough money to cover all of that. I sat on the idea for a while.. Could I still do it, would I find a way? Should I just sell my car and worry about that later? It was too much to think about, and right around that time my boss moved 12 hours away from the company and pretty much left it to rot. (luckily some time later a parent with a lot of heart bought the company and is currently trying to save it from disaster.) I felt the heat under my feet, I had to switch jobs, I couldn't hold out another 5 months. So I started applying everywhere. I talked to JJ about different job opportunities and how there are so many more jobs in cville, but finding one that paid enough to keep up with the commute would be a challenge. I found one that just barely made it above the line of not being worth it. The job I found had more than i bargained for. Not only was their pay above average for childcare (meaning above minimum wage) but it offered education incentives, so I am back in school on the companies dollar. Finding this opportunity made me decide to put Berlin on the back burner. for now. Maybe next year. 6 months is a long commitment. And living with a family seems uncomfortable, and being with out a car would drive me nuts, but I suppose if I want to do it bad enough I will. But knowing me another opportunity will pop up next year professionally to make my life easier here and I'll take it. There is just so many options. And my brain is all over the place. To put that in perspective here is a list of everything I want to do.
1. Teach Highschool art but not until I'm almost to retirement
2. Work as a Case specialist, or development specialist for Social Services either here or in Fishersville.
3. Be a program specialist for a school or center
5. Work for Pixar
6. Be a race car driver, or motorcycle racer
7. Be a well known artist and make all the things in my head come alive (which could tie into pixar)
8. Be a motion picture designer for music videos. (also could tie into pixar)
there are more but I can't remember all of them

also I want all the cars and motorcycles
I want a two seater sports car like nobodies business. I prefer a solstice, but honestly I am not picky. I like the look of a Spyder, any make, but toyota takes the cake with fuel economy. And I love corvettes, but try keeping insurance on that!
I also want a jeep, with fat tires
and a beat up truck
and i love my smart car
and I'd love to have a van again, not so much to drive, but to make a club house for my kids
And I want a nice ninja (mine is a project bike, and even tho it has been fun, I think a slick ride would be better for me)
I want a soft tail, and I want a standard cruiser.

For now though, my life is...I'm a student AND a teacher, I live in a quirky little apartment that I am allowed to paint and modify. I drive a smart car because I commute to work 20 miles. And Im on a track to somewhere.

Wow what a post. Everything will fall into place eventually, where I am suppose to go and what I am suppose to do, and have.

Life is what happens when your busy making plans.

Early mornings

Yesss

C for charley

Lovin my new apartment

Go team go!

<3

Frustrated

I'm frustrated with modeling. Maybe I'm just bored, it has always been a thing, a weird system. That payed gigs are always more fun, and the photographers that pay are way more talented than the ones who don't. So what if I really want to work with a photographer. Who pays then? Me? That's the ultimate question. It has always been a deal where the model gets paid, BUT I think there is a rise in artistic models which means models are modeling for more than portfolio pictures. (I really can't stand basic portfolio shots and submissions) I don't necessarily want to be a model for the industry, but I do want to do larger shoots. I.e. more money in the budget to make astonishing photos with. But I don't feel like I should pay a photographer in most cases. I constantly hear photographers who want money and then turn around and use those photos as advertisement, or magazine/vogue submissions, or sell the photos. And I feel that is wrong! I'm so confused with the whole thing it makes me sick. And I am tired of creeps. And in tired of collaborating with a photographer just to do ALL of the artistic work myself. (The wardrobe the idea the make up the setting AND the editing) because most of the time I get the photos back and notice that they are poorly edited. So I edit them. Some photographers are cool with this, some are not. The ones who are not I determine are a loss and dump their photos I. The trash because I can not use them, and they could've been great. Here's the thing I don't want to be a photographer, I use photography as one of many outlets in my art but I do not want to deal with models. Or the "system" that everyone thinks they know. And besides that I can not stand shooting models because of their ego or their "training" it usually is wrong, and you spend most of your time telling the model to relax. So I guess I'll just shoot my boyfriend, myself, and my friends. Which kills me as an Aquarius but so be it. And I'm not sure if u want to model on "shoots" any more. Minus a few people I just a LOVE being around. And I consider extremely talented. It's just not worth the bs. Or the ego vomit anymore.

Perfect

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=621711474506457&set=a.251285321549076.69658.174957762515166&type=1

Finally!

I have a picture worthy of the caption "why you mad tho?"

My first thought..."your butt again!? Jeez charley"

And then I was like "Of course your butt again!"

"While we are talking about my crack, how about all you haters say hi to that!"

Ok I'm done and very tired.


New vlog soon! Charley > Quinn > Wayne

We silly

We so silly, it's even makin us sick!

as my smile faded

As my smile faded, I felt the hate burn down my spine.
I watched my face twist from sadness to furry
my eyes stopped shinning

Each day became tiresome, every move I made was terrible and wrong.
It wasn't just my home, it was my life, it was me, that was wrong.
I was careful not to care, and observed my surroundings.
If I cared too much about something, she'd take it.
TV, movies, books, sketchbooks, friends, and even my hair.
She took it, because she didn't like seeing me smile

so my smile faded

A little at a time, each day brought a new game to play
and each day I'd loose,
each day I'd hope he'd take my side, and save me
and each day I was wrong, so each night I suffered

Soon there was nothing left to take, so she turned to violence
Her hand came across my mouth, the taste of blood on my lip
she pinned me to the wall to scream in my face
tell me I wasn't beautiful, tell me I wasn't as smart as I thought I was

She wanted to break me, she almost did.
I fought back. I fought back hard. but not smart

I punch and kicked her, I punched and kicked my screen window until it broke free of its frame
Just when I thought I'd never get rid of her, my Dad found out she was cheating
and kicked her out. But insisted she stay for Christmas. So I bought her a Cinnamon Bun Candle, and she is allergic to Cinnamon.

She did something

Mugshot

That is the idea for our book. Dalten and I are going to write it. I want to think Tyler and nick will have a part in it, but honestly I'm not sure they would even be interested.
James might have a story to tell as well.

It's funny. Secretly I always wanted to be "normal" because I thought the more normal I was the closer I would be to having a normal life. You know like grow up with both parents AND your siblings. I'm starting to come to the realization that my hate for my mother was less for me and more for Dalten. I was always so sad that I did not have a mother, and I really can't explain that pain but I can tell you that seeing my little brother in so much pain is very hard. I think it hurts worse knowing that I wasn't there while he was being abused by his step dad. It's bizarre because around that time I was also dealing with an abusive step mom. It would have been so much better if we were together.
Dalten was living with our younger brother at the time, and seeing them now it is so evident that they love and look out for each other. I'm glad that at least they had each other.
What's bothering me now is, I have no want to talk to my mother. None. I thought maybe it will be good for both of us, but I know she is still lying to me. And I can't forgive her for what she did to Dalten. At least not until he does. It's too painful to see him hurting.
I am glad his dad found him and got him away from that awful situation. The place he is at now, the people he is with are all so beautiful. I hope he sees that as much as I do. It's a miracle we all turned out ok. It's the same feeling I have towards my nanny and even my dad. My nanny is my angel. She's always been there. I think I I cried more on her shoulder than anyone else's. I love my dad more than words. I wish there was a way for him to take me away from that situation and still be close to my brothers. I'm still a bit angry that he accidentally stuck me in another bad situation but I guess accidents happen.
It's hard to think of life as it "could've been" so I try not to.
So now I wonder what life will bring. I feel so connected and I use to feel so lost.
I hope that trips out to see my family in the west becomes more of a regular thing.
It's good to dream. At age 15 I truly believed I would never see any of my brothers again. So anything can happen.

Don't look back

Today I got to see my little brother, Dalten. For the first time in 16 years. It's taking a while to set in, but in many ways I feel like we kinda picked up where we left off. Which is cool, but it's heartbreaking to know that when I leave here, it's going to be a long time until I see him again. My two older brothers are not here. They made excuses, but I know why they are not here. They are hurting in ways I can't even imagine.
I do get to finally meet my youngest brother tomorrow!
And I'm seeing Craig again finally. And meeting his wife which I will talk about tomorrow when I'm not exauhsted.

Oh princess

But you don't know sorrow

No you don't know war.

You don't know it like I do

You don't live it like I do


People got to live like they want to

Thirsty for something new

Most if us, ain't got a clue

And nobody feels sorry for you


We will all feel differently tomorrow

But I know it won't end this sorrow

We might feel differently tomorrow

Our time is all we can borrow

The miracle of life is meant to be a fight

A struggle,
a desperate attempt to reach the light.

Our entire race has seemingly lost sight

And I know it won't change overnight


I can't say sorry princess
Because I can't decide if your ignorance
Is bliss
And I don't know if bliss... Is good or bad

And it's all so unclear, these concepts
But maybe I should feel sorry for you instead
Because you are fragile. And my world would've broke you a long time ago.

Trust me when I say,
My aftermath is a bit delusional.

Sometimes there is a lot to cry about

I can never express how much it hurts to be abandoned by your mother
but I do know that it hurts more knowing you've lost valuable time with people you love
I lost watching my little brother grow up.

I lost contact with everyone. My grandparents, my brothers, my step dad, my cousins

At first I blamed my dad because he moved me as far away as he could from that whole mess

but it wasn't his fault. And often I am glad I grew up away from that chaos. even if I had my own chaos here.

I remember the night my mother got arrested, after running for nearly three years.

I remember holding my little brother in my arms while he slept through it. I remember holding his ears so he wouldn't hear it. I remember the police men, the flashing lights.

We (my mother, my brother, and I) were sleeping in the same bed that night. At my grandmas house, hiding. My stepdad had left the day before to run to Salt Lake City. He got caught later that week.
I heard the door fly open to our room. I heard grandma begging the police men to be quite, because the kids where sleeping in the same bed. They were not very quiet. The light came on. My eyes had a haze on them as I tried to focus on the men that came through the door. Mom got up quickly. There were some words exchanged. Grandma asked me to roll over and go back to sleep. Why did these men want my mom so badly? Mom was told to pack socks and underwear and nothing else. She did, and then she was cuffed and escorted out of the house. I was so scared I didn't move. I wanted to get up and shout at the men, I wanted to scream. But I held onto my brother, and cried silently.

nothing was ever explained to us. I was 6, my brother was 2.

I visited mom in jail a few times, talked to her through the glass on a phone. I managed to get a few sit in visits with her. One of which she went crazy during. I said something she didn't like, and she started shouting. Before I knew what was happening two men came in the visiting room and cuffed her and took her away. I only saw her one more time after that. it was a short visit, only a few minutes. My mother told me lies about my fathers, things that would make me not trust him.

When I got home that night I told my dad what she had said. He told me then, that I would not be visiting my mother for a while.

A few weeks after that my dads mom, my nanny, came to meet me, for what I thought was the first time. I had met her as a very small child, but had no memory. She was very kind.

She stayed with us until the school year was over, and I flew back to Virginia with her. (From Montana)

My little brother was not so fortunate. Its heart breaking. Both of his parents went to jail. He had to stay with mom's mom. Mom's dad had committed suicide not long before that.

Grandma wasn't doing so well.

I remember getting on the plane, i had a baby doll in my lap, and sat in the loading room. Dalten and Grandma stood on the other side of the glass, I watched them from my seat. I kept making silly faces at Dalten to get him to smile. He'd make them back. He was holding his bear, "plaid Pete", in his arms. And had his face pressed up against the glass. Drool fell from his bottom lip and slid down the glass like a slug. Grandma held a death glare on my Nanny. She bent down and whispered something in Daltens ears. His face fell, and then tears accompanied his drool on the glass. I looked at Nanny confused. She grabbed my hand. "We have to go now, the plane is here" We stood up, I waived to Dalten then turned and walked with Nanny onto the plane.

That was the last time I saw him.

After that he lived with grandma until she died a few years later (4-5). At the time Mom had been released on good behavior and had married another man. So Dalten went to live with her. She had another child named James, I have never met him. Dalten lived with them until mom got arrested again a few years after that. (2-3) At that point I was 13. Dalten then lived with Moms husband for a few years. I am not sure what happened, I am not sure why. I had zero contact with everyone for the next three years. At age 16 I got a card from my ex-stepdad. It was a picture of him and his "new" family. Dalten was not in the picture. I suddenly realized that I had no idea where Dalten was so I contacted social services to find my little brother. He was 12 at the time. I did not know why his dad did not have him, I assumed that would be where he went, but it wasn't. Social Services located him with his Aunt Sue, Aunt Sue then told me she as trying to get Craig to take custody of him, but there were some issues. I then decided that I wanted to take custody of him, but to do so I would have to either be 18 or get emancipated. And even then it would be harder for me to get custody because I still didn't support myself. So I asked dad. But my dad was in a very dark place at this point and couldn't handle another teenager. So I contacted Craig to find out what was going on. Eventually Craig took custody and Dalten moved in with him at age 13.


Dalten is now 18, and graduating. I am finally going to get to see him after all of this. I am thrilled. But I am also sad. I know how much we missed, not being around each other. And I know he doesn't really remember me. But I hope once I see him (and the rest of my brothers!) Some of my sadness will disappear. I have been talking to my mom for the first time in 6, and actually having conversations with her, which has never happened before. So I know I am forgiving her. But I know the pain isn't going to  go away. Since talking to her, and being in contact with my brothers, and arranging times to see all of them I have felt more solid, more grounded, and less chaotic. but I have also gotten older. It hurts the most when I see/hear other stories from people good and bad, but especially the bad. I hear and read stories of children who loose a parent one way or another and they talk about how they had each other, their siblings to help them pull through. And I know I had my dad, and we helped each other. But I feel different because I have all of the brothers, that went through many of the same things I did, but we didn't go through it together. So all of our stories are very different, and we are very different. And sometimes I get so caught up in thinking about what if we had all stayed together, would we still be so different?

I know the things that hurt me. And I know the things that have put dents in my mental health, my perception. I wonder how many dents they have, how much do they hurt? How much do they love?
It's not something we really talk about because its too hard.
and im a big cry baby

I can't wait to see them. I wish I knew how to act.
this is a sadness that I know will never go away

Ain't no other man

Baby you put my love on top
Top priority

My heart breaks for humans

We lie
We steal
We don't care
We use
We want
We kill
We abuse

We so badly need to be needed
And need to be loved
We so bad want to give the ppl we love everything we have
We hurt

Heartbreak hurts


We abandon each other in times of need
When life is good you have more friends than you can handle, but when life is hard... They disappear.


Sometimes I get so caught up worrying about health and money that I neglect fun and friends who in turn neglect me when I just need help

Because helping is not fun.

It's hard to be the person I want to be when there are all these limitations around me.

I just want to love and help. But how can I possibly do that when there is so much cruelty in the world, and I'm too busy fighting for myself?

reputation

Its funny how people make things happen in their own minds to justify what is going on in their lives.

Its also funny how quickly people are to assume things that they know very little about.

I have had the reputation of a "Man stealer" for a very long time. Almost 10 years (Im 22) so think about that for a second, and then think about our society. Kinda sad right? Only 13 years old and already pegged as someone who forces men away from the person that "trapped" them into their delusional pre-teen back woods, backwards mentality. "I know that we are only 13 but we are dating, so that means we will get married someday, and have babies!" and the reality is (for that poor girl) is that she will end up very unhappy, because that is NOT how the majority of the world works, AND there is no "right or wrong way to live" I could go more into this concept (sex before marriage, same sex marriage, divorce, etc) These traditional theories are, and have been outdated. very outdated. We just don't get hitched at 13 anymore people, so stop teaching your children that they "must find a man" or we will end up with more reality TV shows about teen pregnancy. OBVIOUSLY WE ARE ALL DOING SOMETHING WRONG!

But anyway let me tell you how this all is a part of my life and my experience. For starters I am not from Virginia, I have lived many places, and because of my very bizarre childhood (consisting of a very wild mother who wanted to have a traditional family sooo bad but had zero concept on how to actually make that happen correctly, thus resulting in a slew of failed marriages and left behind family *all the children* and then growing up with a single father and watching him navigate through the crazy dating scene and seriously seeing first hand how CRAZY women can be) I have a very unique perspective on things like relationships, marriage, babies, families and the like. Because of this perspective I have also researched marriages and traditions from other countries to get an idea of how these ideas and concepts come about. I will say this, we live in a very crazy world, ruled by very crazy people.

So back to me at 13 years old, because that is when it all started, I became a "Man stealer". I was in 7th grade, and had gone to some dances with some boys, and done the whole "we're dating because we are holding hands" thing, but never had a serious boyfriend *i use that term lightly..because how fucking serious can you be at 13 right?* anyway, I met this boy, we'll call him curls because he had beautiful black curls. We started dating, and since i was a prude that essentially meant we ate lunch together. Unfortunately Curls had a secret, or not so secret admirer, whom was convinced that curls was her man. And in her defense curls was a charmer, so she might have thought he was actually interested in her, until I came along and charmed his fucking pants off! (lol) But he wasn't actually interested in her otherwise he would not have asked me out. make sense? Well this girl holds some serious grudges. serious. She HATED me from there on out, and STILL has a problem with me. In fact I thought she had gotten over it when she added me on FB a year ago, only to wake up to a HUGE comment on one of my photos where she had gone off about how I was a freak, and would always be a freak and someday I will be fat and ugly like the rest of the world. (can you see how insane that is?) The problem is that same scenario happened again in highschool, where she was pining over some dude, and I met him (unaware that she had it for him) and he asked me out. This is one girl out of 3 girls who has had this idea in their head that I purposing track down the men they are into just to distract them away from said girl. Im sure its infuriating, but honestly who has time for that?

So moving on to "where is she now?" Well she is living in some county somewhere, engaged to her best friends baby daddy. She looks good, she has lost a lot of weight since highschool. But its hilarious that she still thinks Im some kind of super freak.. whatever. When she "took" a man from her best friend while she was pregnant with his child. Ironic huh?

Ok second girl. I had a highschool sweetheart (I liked to date until I met this one kid who I thought was the bizness, so I stopped dating and stayed with this kid for over a year, but since it was high school it was on and off.) Anywho when I first met him he was talking to this chick, we will call her droopy because she is a sad person, never happy, and you can see it in her eyes. poor girl. I remember him telling me about her the first night we met, but he was telling me he wasn't very interested, that they had just been talking. This kid came to my house party the night after we met, got trashed and had to crash at my place. (or my dads place bc we were in highschool) When I took him home the next day, he asked me out. She found out a few days later and was furious. But they weren't together and even if they had been, why would you try to hang on to someone who doesn't want you? These women make no sense. Unfortunately for her, this became a repeat thing for us. And it might be because she was super clingy to her men, or we had the same taste in men, or maybe its because I can talk to men like people, and not animals (ladies we complain that men think of us as objects, well we think of them as pets, so thats no good) Anywho what ever the reason there was another guy later (a few years) who wanted to get with me, but never did. 1. he was with her 2. I wasn't interested but apparently she caught him looking at pictures of me or something so it ended. A year or so after that she was dating a drummer from a band I use to book consistently. Me and the drummer were very good friends, and we started hanging out more that summer because we both had more free time. AND he wanted to spend some time away from her. Just because I have a vagina does not mean every man who wants to hang out with me wants to get some. seriously YOU WOMEN ARE CRAZY. anyway. He started telling me that she was pestering him about kids and marriage, and even set a date for both, and wrote it in sharpie on his wall and stuff. We were 20, so I told him FUCK THAT. it was obviously Something he did not want. Or we wouldn't be all distant and telling his friends about it. So why push him? If you really love him, you would make a compromise. Come on people, its not hard. Well he ended up breaking up with her, you can guess who got blamed for it. Go figure. However we never dated.

Where is she now? Don't know Don't care. Last time I heard about her, I had a coworker who was friends with her in highschool, and gave me some perspective on her personality. She desperately needed to be needed, and wanted. And HAD to fit in all the time. Like I said, poor girl.

Next we come to my highschool sweetheart and his current wife and mother to be. That is a huge story with lots of emotional ties and heartache between us, but the moral of that story is, he is happy because he is SAFE with her. He has come to me multiple times through out their relationship from dating, to engagement, to marriage, to baby, expressing that he is not happy and wants to end it with her because he is bored and not ready for this life. He doesn't want to do this the rest of his life. And I tell him what I tell anybody. If you want to be free, you are free. Just do it. Now he has put a baby in her, it will be harder. I have cut all ties of communication with her and him because I AM NOT going to get blamed for that marriage falling apart. I am not going to have some crazy women telling her child that another women broke up their marriage. HONESTLY if your marriage is that fragile, something is wrong. Does anyone else see that? If your husband is out seeking comfort from his ex from highschool, making passes and flirting something is wrong.

And yes I know this says a lot about my character, most people would tell me I shouldn't be talking to my ex's or "You shouldn't let them hit on you, they are just coming to you because they need an outlet" or whatever. Some people push it as far as being like "I bet they come to you because they think you can be the girl on the side, your laid back and don't demand commitment" nonsense.

Small fact about me, I lost my virginity senior year, and can count my partners on two hands. so eat me if you think Im loose.

SO we come to the present. Where yet another women is blaming me for the end of her marriage. which in reality ended well before I came into the picture, romantically or not. That marriage was over when I first met my SO. Most people can see that, and most people are ok with other people doing what they want to be happy. But like I said, we are raising people to be obsessive and hang on to traditional morals that don't apply to modern day society. Is anyone getting this? WE ARE OUR OWN PROBLEM. So stop.

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I got shit to do

I enrolled in summer classes today. Currently in orientation! Which is dragggging! So of course I'm mindlessly flipping through fb. And I find this and I realize.... I HAVE SHIT TO DO! Ain't nobody got time for "that". Don't need nobodies bs for the next 9 months!

Stop taking yourself so seriously...

...seriously

Just a friendly reminder

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6 deep
I am underground
I can't go any further
or I won't be able to make it back around

this is my last chance

words are your clay
I fell for the dream you sold me
your  a montage of other peoples emotions
because you can't feel any of your own
but you want to so bad,           so very very bad

you want to love, like you do in your words

but you are not able

so you wish

and wish 

and wish

you can not love, because you can not feel pain

and with out pain, there is no love

nothing can hurt you,                                                                                            like a god
you can't feel the knives in your back
you can't even tell they are there
and now, there is no more room
so there is no point in throwing knives....

can I accept this, can you accept that?
the only way you can love me
is to hurt me
hurt me again
hurt me again
and again

I am not powerless
but I do not want to fight
I am not powerless
but I lost sight
I am not powerless
my soul is on fire
I am not powerless
but I'm forever in love with a liar.