Log in

No account? Create an account
May 2012   01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

The thing about the human race.

Posted on 2012.05.24 at 01:02
Current Location: bed
Current Mood: disappointeddisappointed
Current Music: Maroon 5 Hands all Over

I'm nice, maybe to nice. I am naive, trusting and caring. I don't belong in this world. This world where no one got over what happened to them in high school. This world where you can't just let go of that shitty relationship you were in so you carry it to the next one. This world where you lie to someone to keep them around for your ego. In this world I don't stand a chance. I never did. I'm not perfect and I never claimed to be. I'm... just... me. I came up with this today and I think it sums up the people who have been in my life as of late. Everyone has a chip on their shoulder from the one asshole they thought they loved in high school. When we were all to dumb to understand shit and they carry it throughout their lives. To me the human race is a disappointment. Hiding behind religion, politics, sex, skin color, to avoid true connections and love. Seeing only what is in front of you and never going deeper, never finding meaning, just getting lost in apps and games. Not touching that person next you, not taking a chance to see what they are all about. Not relishing the anticipation of that first kiss but ruining it by asking someone to send you a naked picture on your phone. Give me the innocence, give me the electricity, the nervousness, the moment your breath is taken away. The conversations till one or both of you falls asleep on the phone. There is nothing I find more stimulating than a great conversation. The brain can be truly sexy. I don't mean by talking about sex either. There is an art of seduction that seems to be lost. The art of words...

The thing about thinking

Posted on 2012.05.22 at 16:04
Current Location: room
Current Mood: contemplativecontemplative
Current Music: Pay Phone Maroon 5
So I was thinking today what if this was my last day? What would I do differently? Would I do anything differently? Would I still have the feeling that I am not good enough? Would I care about the stuff that people tell me I shouldn't worry about? Would I be at peace? I hope I would be at peace. Would it matter that you didn't answer my email or text? Would I fight with my daughter to clean her room? Would any of this really matter? Would I want to be alone on a beach listening to the surf and watching the sun set while squishing my toes in the sand? No worries dear readers nothing is going to happen to me and I'm not depressed. I was just thinking.

The State of Hate

Posted on 2012.04.12 at 14:24
Current Location: Home
Current Mood: contemplativecontemplative

Since rehearsal last night I really started thinking about the state of hate. There is so much hate in this country it really gets to me. The show that I am in called the Laramie Project, it is a story about Mathew Sheppard who was beaten and eventually died of his injuries for being gay. I remember when this actually happened. I was saddened and outraged, as I have been with the Trayvon Martin. There are certain similarities in these cases. On a basic level they were both killed because they were different. The people killed them because they saw their differences as some kind of threat. Someone close to me said that the world needs hate and wars. I wanted not to agree with him, but because of my belief that there should be balance in all things, I do have to agree with him. Destruction is always a catalyst of change and awareness. Before Mathew was killed I went through life thinking that “gay bashing” was just words that categorized being picked on for being gay. Growing up fat I was always picked on for that so I could relate. But I couldn’t relate to being killed. I have never heard a story about a woman or man being killed because they were fat.  The same goes for being black. I have some personal stories of racial profiling. However I can walk into a store and not be followed and I can pretty much go anywhere and no one will pay attention to me because I am a white woman, and seen by society as someone who is harmless. As the mother of a mixed child I made the choice that I wanted her to embrace all that she is. Most famous mixed people seem to have been told to identify as black, and I disagree with that, always have. I was joking with Nephera the other day and I said “you are such a white girl” and she said “No Mom I’m mixed.” I worry about how the people of the United States will see her. I say United States because the race issue here is what we are dealing with.  I see Nephera as Nephera just as I see Tyler as Tyler, Prescott as Prescott, Mike as Mike, Nico as Nico, TT as TT, Sam as Sam, Julio as Julio, Elliott as Elliott, and Phat Mike as Phat Mike. Those listed are black, white, jewish, latino, gay, and straight. But “we the people” don’t seem to see it like that. How can we change this? How can we keep our children safe from people who hate what they don’t know and don’t understand? How can there ever be change when people in this country only believe what they see on TV? Or what they have been taught by a person who has never actually interacted with anyone who was different than they are?

The State of Hate is unfortunately alive and well… 

Depression is a Pain in my Ass

Posted on 2012.04.02 at 20:03
Current Mood: depresseddepressed
Apparently I haven't blogged in a long time. I had, had a secret blog for a while that had to do with my therapy sessions and my recovery from my last major bout of depression. Blogging to myself seem to help keep the continual tape of negativity that would play in my brain. I am going through something simular but not the same. I am in a place of self loathing. After the end of a disastrous long term relationship, and trying to enter something that seemed healthy but wasn't as mutual, then there was the moment that I thought friends with benefits seemed like a good idea. It all seemed to make everything worse. I am in this space that I am not digging at all. Between almost letting myself get into a situation that seemed eerily simular to the long term relationship down to the video game he played. To letting myself believe someone wanted to be with me yet would never make time for me. I don't know what is wrong with me. 

How did I get here. Part one

Posted on 2009.01.23 at 13:29
Current Location: work
Current Mood: reflective
I have been reading one of my friends books and he was talking about looking back on your life so you can get your shit together now. Well that is at least how it effected me. If that isn't what he was really saying well that is what I took away from it. So where do I think my shit started? Most of my early life I don't really remember, there are highlights of some happy times, but they seem to be out shadowed by pain. Let see my first happy memory playing in the sand of the driveway outside our trailer. Yes I spent the first two years of my life in a trailer.. don't judge! I don't really know if this is a memory or just a memory of looking at a picture of me playing in the sand. I remember road trips to Colorado in the back of a burnt orange and white suburban, with my dog Abby (the wonder dog) and a mattress to sleep on if I got tired, which I never did because I was always so excited to get there and couldn't sleep. I remember riding the horse that would be mine one day, Jud. The picture my parents took of all of us on a little blue sled that is still one of my favorite pictures, or the picture of me in a small el cove that my dad thought would be a great place to place me for a picture. Or the story he told about a hawk taking a nut from his hand while i was feeding a chipmunk. I would always call him on his stories and ask "are you tricking me Dad?"  I remember a stupid dog we had named Rusty that ran away on the coldest night of the year and never came back. I also remember my dad telling that story over and over again. I remember when I was little and the ceiling in the living room collapsed when a pipe burst, and then it happened again when I think I was in Jr. High but on a smaller scale and my mom fell through it and got tennis elbow. I always thought that was an odd diagnosis for someone who fell through a ceiling and ended up landing in a galvanized tub, but hey I'm not a doctor. I remember being hit by a motorcycle the first day I rode my bike without training wheels and hitting my mailbox, and how the bruises between my legs changed color and how I had no idea what power between my legs would become some day. I remember getting my front tooth knocked out by a golf ball and trying to run towards home and passing out in the middle of a field because of the blood loss,and the relationship I would have with dentist and orthodontist, or the time in 5th grade when I broke my foot playing football with the guys in the neighborhood and riding my bike home one footed. If there was nothing more to say it would seem like a pretty decent childhood, but there is the other side. The pain. My first painful memory was seeing my mother in the hospital after she had had a nervous breakdown. This is the reason that it took me so long to take meds for my depression, and why I fought so hard to get off them. To see your mother all doped up is never a good thing. Yes there were many advances in medicine since the seventies, but that memory of her like that made it really hard for me to do what needed to be done so I wouldn't hurt myself.  The second was when my Dad moved out after my Mom divorce him, after she said he didn't respect her anymore because she locked herself up. I was sitting on the stairs by the door and I don't remember what he said because my crying was all I could hear. I remember him kissing me on the forehead and hugging me. I don't think I moved from that spot for an hour after he had gone. When I did finally move it was to my room which would be my haven for my teen years and most of my twenties.

The thing about African American President Elect....

Posted on 2008.11.06 at 09:35
Current Location: work
Current Mood: contemplativecontemplative
Current Music: A message/ coldplay

Not to be a pain in the ass or anything but he is MIXED he isn't the first African American President (Elect) Obama is the first MIXED President elect. Haley Berry wasn't the first female black actress to win an Oscar; she was the first MIXED woman to win an Oscar. The list goes on and on. I bring this up because I am a mother of a Mixed racial child and I am sick of everything being African American when it isn't. I, like Haley Berry's mother and Barack Obama's mother, am white and find it bullshit that because our children have varying levels of Melanin in their skin makes them African American. They have Black in them and I do not deny that, but they have other ethnicity's  in them. My daughter is black, Irish, Italian, German, and American Indian, if you ask me that sound pretty mixed.  Heck without African American is still sounds pretty mixed.

I remember being in school with a mixed kid and he used to be tormented by the black kids for not being black enough. That would have been ten years after Obama would have been in school. (I am ten years younger than he is) Am I to assume the black population who is praising him so much now as being a black leader, wouldn't have picked on him when he was younger if he was in an inner city or even a suburban school? Let's get real here for a minute. Back with Obama was a kid there were still states that had laws that barred interracial marriage. Hell there might still be, but no one actually enforces them, who knows. So he would have been very different from the population around him.

I remember when Haley Berry was interviewed either before or after her win, and she said that her mother told her to that since people are going to see her as black anyway that is who she should identify with. I was frankly pissed off by that statement. I understand why she would have told that to her daughter.

My Dad who grew up in the south and had many southern values told me, after he met the man who was going to be my husband that he worried about his grandchildren being mixed because they would have to go through a lot of shit because they were mixed. He was right in the information that he had, but in the area that I am in and raising my daughter in, it isn't that big of a deal. There is 67.3% minority population in her district although they list black as the highest at 59% they do not list mixed at all. It is strange since they have mixed racial background as an option on all of the forms that I had to fill in, and I know of several mixed children in her class.

Maybe it's just me but I think that mixed children are special, because they get to see, and live two different cultures. I feel that I have made it apparent to my daughter that she is unique and special because she is both black and white and that the new President is Mixed just like her.

I think that the work MIXED should be used when speaking about the President Elect and for any other person who is special enough to have parents who are not of the same race.

The thing about dreams...

Posted on 2008.11.01 at 08:56
Current Location: bed
Current Mood: sleepysleepy
Current Music: the humm of my laptop's fan, and my boyfriends breathing
I had a dream with my Dad in it . It was a good dream and I think my friend Anthony's wife is going to have their baby on Monday because of it. but I could be wrong we will see. The reason I think that is because of the dream. The dream was a good dream and while having it, unlike other times I have had dreams with Dad I didn't cry. It was a good dream. It also had my daughter and my boyfriend in it, which isn't normal but it felt good that all of us were there together. We took my Dad's truck to a tavern and hung out, My daughter somehow got lost in the bar since there were so many rooms, but we found her safe, and she was playing by herself. Some point after some point it became late and we left. The next day my boyfriend and I were out with Billy Bob Thorton and we crossed a street went into a bar and watched a Bears game. Then I was sucked out of the dream. Dad dreams are weird, and I have never had one on Halloween before so that was different. But to explain the being sucked out thing. It is like I am living in this other world that is so really and so tangible that there is no other world to come back to. So when I do leave it is like there is a huge vacuum that pulls me out and lands me back in my body. Joltingly so.  I wonder what the Billy Bob thing is all about... I haven't even watched a movie with him in it lately. I also haven't had a Cusack dream in a long time. Oh and BTW after must pleading (from him) and laying out expectations we have for on another, me and the boyfriend are back together.

The thing about people and their cellphones......

Posted on 2008.09.03 at 14:40
Current Location: work
Current Mood: blahblah
Current Music: some Kelly Clarkson song on the radio
A little background on me. I have either had my own or had access to a cell phone since the mid eighties.  Since my mom worked for the phone company most of my life she has always had a good deal on technology etc. So phones to me aren't a huge deal and I cherish time when people cannot get a hold of me. Maybe that is because I enjoy my alone time, or there are just some activities that I really don't need to share with people on the phone. ie. going to the bathroom,or working out. When I work out I use my ipod and turn it up pretty high so I don't hear the health club music, not that, that music isn't good, but I have certain songs that motivate me to get through 45 minutes on the elliptical machine and another 20 minutes on the rowing machine. I don't understand people who talk on their phones while working out. And I really don't understand why I can hear them over my headphones. What the fuck is that important that you need to be screaming into the phone four machines away and I can hear your conversation over my music? Does it bother anyone else that people act like complete assholes because they have a cellphone. Maybe it is because when I got mine it was only for emergencies and it kind of stuck. There are places that really bother me when people are on the phone, grocery stores, walking their dog or their child, in line, on exercise equipment. People walking with their kids in strollers, is it me or shouldn't you want to I don't know try to connect with your kid other than talking to someone about bullshit on the phone? No wonder people feel so disconnected they don't pay any attention to what is going on around them. I love to talk to my friends on the phone don't get me wrong but I don't need to cut into "my time" to do it, nor my daughters.

The thing about getting old....

Posted on 2008.08.06 at 11:44
Current Location: work
Current Mood: mellowmellow
Current Music: Spaz- N.E.R.D.
To some of my friends I am old, and to others I am just older a year or two older than them. My boyfriend's friends however are all the same age as he is which is 16 years younger than me. Yes I am a cradle robber but when one looks 10 to 15 years younger than your actual age that will happen. I look and act about 25 so I am told. Which lets face it isn't such a bad thing. I have a friend who has the same problem. He is just into his early thirties and is starting to see things in different ways, but isn't so cool with I'm not a kid anymore, and I don't get the kids anymore. I personally don't remember a time when I really "got" any group of people. Never understood religion, never understood hippies, jocks, preps, prom queens, cheerleaders, really any group of organized/ mostly disorganized people. I always had an understanding of myself. Maybe its an only child thing that I just dig being by myself, doing my own shit and not worried about what everyone else thought about me personally. I still worry about what people think of my work, because of my perfectionist side. but how I look has now evolved to what I feel is comfortable and functional for me. A few months ago I went to see Eddie Izzard and decided to get all dressed up nice dress heals makeup, but by the end of the night my thighs were tired from keeping my legs together and my heals were bleeding from my shoes. I had a great time at the show but the rest of the night was shot because I was in pain. I could have dress casual like I normally do, still look cute and not have any scars on my heals. I guess when it comes to myself getting older I just want to be more comfortable than anything else. I don't want to go completely Katherine Hepburn or anything, but one has to admit she always looked awesome.

the thing about nothing to bitch about....

Posted on 2008.07.07 at 12:40
Current Location: work
Current Mood: blahblah
Well I haven't written in some time so I thought I would write something. But it seems I really have nothing to write about, because I guess I have nothing to bitch about. That seems kind of sad if you ask me.

Previous 10