bedtime

I don't have much time tonight, just wanted to share a few thoughts.

I was looking in these mail order catalogs today wondering if the people that buy stuff from them ... well if they know how lucky they are that they can pick stuff out of a book that they want and just buy it.

There is a co-worker that puts stars by the things she wants, and I always wonder if she buys the stuff.  Then I wonder what it's like to live with two incomes, and to be able to do stuff like that.   Not that I'm jealous per say, just I wonder if it fills the need?   When I look at catalogs, or even magazines, I think, sure if I ever pay off these debts, I might be able to do something cool like that... redecorate a whole room with indie style wallpaper and clashing bright colors.... Build my wall of drawers.... buy a car.... buy nice new cloths and not just the ones on a walmart sales rack.... but if I could, would it make things better?   Would having those things make me feel richer?  Or maybe just look richer....  I can't deny a debt free life would be awsome because I wouldn't have to worry about bills and could save money so my son wouldn't have to incur things like college loans or credit card debts to sustain himself in college, but since I'm not winning the lotto anytime soon and money has to go toward what it has to go toward.. you know food, shelter, heat, electricity car insurance, monkey treats for the monkey... monkey cloths for the monkey who won't stop growing,  vetrinary bills for my monkey...  I guess making what I have, outshine this materialistic world is the best lesson I could buy my son.

But still.... I just wonder what it feels like to need new pants, and to go to a really nice store and buy the perfect fit.   I wonder what it's like to need your car fixed and take it to a shop to get it fixed... I wonder what it is like to have extra money and not have to feel guilty about spending it on something fun rather then something necessary...I wonder what it's like for people that just fix thier kitchen, or put new floors in, what's it like to walk into a store, pick something you like and just buy it, no guilt, no trepedation, no fear that your doing something bad. I wonder what its like to have more.   Some day.  But for now, I'm good and if I didn't want more, I wouldn't work so hard to pay the debts.  

All well.  Time for bed.  Work work work...  at least I get to say I save the world for a living. 

this too shall pass

So the blues have passed yet again.  A three day weekend really helped push it along.  Sometimes the depression is like a really persistant bill collector.  It threatens to tear you down, destroy you lively hood, and you hang up but it keeps calling back.   Sometimes if you hang up enough on them it doesn't get rid of them. But then it disappears for a while.   Some bills are harder to pay off then others. But it seems this one is satisfied for now.  
Still working, still taking care of my child, still hating love stories. I'm not destined for it.   All I see is chemical connections firing and rewiring what should be simple lust.   People don't stay in love.  They don't live happily ever after, and I'm not going to find the person who's willing to put up with me forever.  >;P
So onward and upward.  Someday I'll accomplish something really cool.  Don't hold your breath.  I am easily distracted.  And just as selfish as every other human on this planet.

sheepishly sheep

bah.


The bad days are getting far and few between.   Some are harder then others for sure.  Days like today I'm asking myself, why did I come back to sanity again?  Besides the stress of trying to be financially responsible, work and all that jazz, the world can now damage me.   I can't remember much about those years, but I know that the world couldn't hurt me without my consent, or at least it seemed like it.  I did the damage and the world couldn't stop me.   It ( the world )  couldn't hurt me more then I hurt myself.  Now all that self destruction haunts me.  Failed relationships, debts, a closet of long sleeve shirts to keep away those who would instantly judge me.
My son definately grounds me, but that isn't his job.  He's not responsible for wether or not I'm a good mom.  More stress.   I know the day will fade away when I wake up for work, and I'll feel better soon.  I was just thinking that there might be others out there that feel the same way, struggle with the same things. Perhaps this is perfectly normal.
I was denied being a placement home for my cousin's baby because of my 'mental health history'.  And she had to throw in 'criminal history'.  A DUI when I was 17-18.   I understand they were trying to good by the little guy, but damn that's a harsh blow.   Couldn't they have denied me based on finances, or lack of space or time?  On paper they made me look like a complete loser.  The world strikes again.

On top of this, parenthood on certain days is extremely harder then I thought it was going to be.  I'm still waiting for the school to call back so my son can be placed in a 'special ed' preschool.  I was really hoping they could give me some answers.   He's an amazing kid, but there are days he is defiant every step of the way.  God bless his strong willed little heart, but I was not expecting so much defiance so early in his life. What am I doing wrong?  How do I fix it?  The world strikes again.

I come home, I try to do right by my son, but I'm exhausted mentally and sometimes physically.  Which isn't too bad, until I have a hard day.   I want to go do something, get away from it for just a little bit, but then the guilt kicks in.   Maybe my son is so defiant because he can sense I'm fustrated.  Maybe I need to just stop being fustrated and tierd for him.  But how?  If I leave to do something, am I damaging him by going to the store by myself?  Or going out for a walk?  Will he think I'm abandoning him if I go away too much? 
So I don't.  I struggle through, because that's what I'm supposed to do.

I just wish there was a way to google it and find the answers I need.   And he's out of bed again.  I got 20 minutes to myself, and now I have to go to sleep so I can go to work and not fall asleep on the forklift.  That's always a bad thing.   Battery is going dead.....  The world strikes again. 
God takes care of his sparrows.  Could I get a lift?     Tomorrow will be better.

stupid love stories.

enough said.
Really, that's all I have to say about it.
It's fake, except if your a beautiful person, meeting beautiful people.
But, like I said.  That's all I want to say on the subject.

lonely--part 1

When the fire department failed to determine the identity of the remains found in the Highbrook neighborhood blaze, Nattalie knew that she was finally free.

Her extreme strength had caused tremendous amounts of trouble for her, and on that night, it actually served a purpose.  She stormed through the brick walls, flames burning her flesh and her lungs,  to reach the young boy that was trapped in his room.   She left him in sight of the firemen before she ran choking back through the alleyway to get through her basement door and into safety.  Nattalie knew she couldn't go running to the emergency room without having to explain the burns. Her immediate hope was that this was one of those exceptional times her body decided to heal beyond the human condition.   Most of the burns damaged the skin into numbness, but as fate liked to congeal all her good things into a mass of bad. The largest patches of melted flesh were wrentching with every twitch, every movement, every breath and sigh. 

Luckily her body only suffered long enough for her to nearly die of hunger and thirst.  She had tiny bits of sleep and no ibuprophen left by the second day.  She flopped between trying desperately to sit in her large recliner without moving, and screaming in frustrated pain.   As soon as she could see in her reflection no sign of serious injury,  Nattalie started to pack all of her essential items.  Silently she disappeared. After seeing the report that a mysterious woman had broken through the wall of a house to save an unidentified male child, she knew that there was no way to salvage her situation safely.

If no one knew about her, and her ability to defy physics and gravity itself, she was not threatened.  Her lonely pathetic life was intact.  Sad, but intact.  
In Michigan, there were plenty of places to rent with her meager savings she had stowed away. In Ohio a neighbor had seen her pick up the back of the car to reach the dropped chap stick.  In New York, a man had tried to mug an old beggar, and she had accidently thrown the scum a little too far.   In North Carolina a tree swept into a small flood plain and had to be held at bay while a boat full of rescue workers struggled to cross to a small presipice.  Each time her identity had remained a mystery, and hopefully her stories would never be linked, and no one would ever really try and find out who she was.  Otherwise her passport would be the next step.

The girl who had died in the fire was remembered silently by her family,  and her new home established in a county 120 miles away.  She rented a home close to a cemetary, and started to look for new work. 

Nattalie found the historic house charming and gigantic.  Although it didn't have much of a yard, about 3 feet of grass to be more accurate, the price was right.  Crime in the area kept anyone but the desparate or the insanely stubborn from staying there too long.   She liked that the windows all came with full thick, dark drapes.  She didn't have to worry about moving around the furniture.  She didn't have to worry about too many people seeing her or trying to become friends.  The less other's knew of her, the easier it was to disappear.

Now she had thought of becoming a vigilante,  most times her strength had done a great amount of good for others, but she knew that with technology the way it was, she would be identified sooner or later and her random acts became nationalized.  She just wanted to be a person and constantly wondered how it was the general population lived.
************************************************************************
   She managed to get a volunteer shift at the Cemetary doing lawn work in the first week.  She had yet to find a job, and with her recent escape from fame on the other side of the state she had hoped a temp agency would not be necessary.  Temp agencies do identity checks, and although she doubted anyone had filed a missing person's on her, it was not a risk she wanted to take until it was completely necessary.   With only 2000 dollars cash left, it would only take 2 months to run through it.
Her typical grocery bill was that of a size four family.  The only side effect she had from the ferocious strength was an appetite to match.  One cupboard was completely devoted to peanut butter.   Another one was full of ground wheat flour.  Her bread machine had saved her life on many occasions, and although the diet could get nauseating, she found that no matter how dull the bread started to taste, it was affordable and nuroushed her needs.
While browsing Craigs list for odd jobs, a knock came from the front door.  She had thought she picked a neighborhood that would ignore her, but fate did like to mess with her idea's of how things work.  Getting up from her cold wood floors, Nattalie walked up to the small windows at the top of the door to look out.  A sprite old woman peered up at her smiling.   Long tendrils of super curly black locks snuck out from around her ears while it looked she attempted to straighten the rest up into a bun.  Silver specked the mass of it and her bright marroon lips showed traces of a long eventful life.
"Hello young lady! I'm Beatrix, but you call me Auntie Bee!"  She had started greeting Nattalie before the door had begun to open.
   "I'm Nattalie."  She had discovered the shorter she could make these little hello's, the faster neighbors would go away.  She began to say, "I really can't take visitors at the moment."  but Auntie Bee poked her head around the corner and walked straight in.
  "I can never understand how these historical houses get so little love."  Bee pointed to the restored Oak banister and rails, "Oh they fixed them... such a shame they rent this out."
Nattalie wanted to feel offended but was finding it hard to resist human contact after running for so long.
   "And don't worry about the mess with all those secrets, Good Ol' Bee has her own and would never tell anyone about you!"
There was a second Nattalie could hear the glass handle on her front door cracking before she cautiously responed.  "I'm sorry I don't understand Ma'am."
   "Oh don't you even try young lady.  You are not the only one who can do 'special' things."  She smiled and set her wrinkled ashy hand on Nattalie's.    Nattalie couldn't help but release it and flop onto the staircase next to her to sit down.
  "You know what I am?"
  Auntie Bee laughed. "You're a human being!"
Nattalie felt dizzy.   Maybe she was dreaming all this.  "oh..."
"You are also like me.  You have a secret that other human beings do not.  I'm thinking your strength is not only in your body, but in that heart you hide from everyone."
  "How?"  Nattalie felt the one sided conversation would end anytime now and she would realize she had never made it out of the fire.  She would wake up out of a coma in some hospital and be told that it's been years and she had been dreaming for the last 15 years of her life.
   "Well, I can connect people to their intentions by looking at them, and usually the story reveals itself when the person has so much hiding inside them that it bursts into me."   Bee looked around the empty house and nodded. " I have some spare furniture in my garage that the old tenant left behind.  You're welcome to come get it tonight if you'd like."   Bee held up her wobbly arms and pointed to her bicep.  "My strength doesn't lay in these old bones, so you'll have to go through the back yards and carry it yourself."

Nattalie just shook her head and began giggling.  "Auntie Bee huh?"   She smiled her first real smile since she had arrived.  "I always assumed I was alone."
  The old woman headed for the door.  "I need to head home for a bit and take a rest Nattalie,  your story has made me very tierd."  Nattalie had yet to speak of anything then being alone.  "I can tell you'll be over to talk soon, so I'll go take a little nap for us."
  Auntie Bee paused long enough in the doorway to point to the small red brick house on the left.   "That's me, so come on over and knock real loud,  but try not to break my door, it's very old. "
Nattalie wanted to ask when but the phone rang from the bare dining room.  Auntie Bee shouted, "See you later!" as she shut the door behind her.


ok, part one looks good, now I need to find part 2 in this mess of entries.

mean people

Lately I have been quite dumbfounded by mean people.  Although I have caught myself laughing at other peoples expense (initiated by a mean person), I always feel bad about it.  So what is it that makes these people tick? Why is it so important to bash someone else?  Or to criticize what they have no experience to comment on?  There are people who intentionally pick fights so that they can have physical battles, and those who pick emotional battles.  
I don't have an education that would back up any of my theories, but it seems to me that having been human and been a part of the species, that I could make fairly accurate guesses.

First assumption:  Either they're laughing because bully humor makes them nervous, or they are laughing because they think it's genuinely funny that another human being could be so humiliated and degraded at the same time. Or, yet another option, the absurdity of it is just to sadistic to resist.  Like Wiley coyote falling over the cliff and then getting smushed by a bolder and the mountain it fell from. 

Second assumption: People are cruel because it eases their own suffering by giving them someone to target all their anger onto-- Or... they are the kind that gets pleasure from the power they feel by making another being feel terrible.   Notice how bully's and assholes never pick on someone who refuses to give them any reaction or sufficient award for their behavior.  

Third assumption:  Not all mean people are bad people.  Some of them actually deserve pity.  If all they can get pleasure and happiness from is being cruel... can you imagine the loneliness and suffering there is being completely alone?   Some of them were never taught or learned how being kind to others can be just as rewarding.  Or they were taught that kindness leads to terrible consequences... all that psychobabble crap.

Fourth assumption: Mean people are not intelligent enough to figure out a different way to communicate effectively they don't like you in a polite way.  

Fifth assumption:  There is no honor, respect or joy in being mean.  So they must have low self esteem to demean themselves in that way.

Sixth assumption:  If these types have any desire to change, or do things differently they must first admit to the flaws in their actions (which is an extremely difficult task for someone who is addicted to this behavior)  It's not like changing a personal behavior, something that is only involved in self, it's a global behavior that affects how they think and act around everyone in their world.

Eh... I'm exhausting  this idea.  Point is, no matter how they got to be mean people, I'll still never understand how they can stand living in a world where the only interactions are stabs, jabs and pokes at people who had nothing to do with creating who they've become.  

I'll try and find something more fun to talk about next time.  Just wanted to vent that one.

Happy to be here.

There are times in life when you find something that feels completely right, so the good and honest and descent thing to do, that all the hardships comming with that descision are just not an issue.   You know that not doing it would make you feel regret for the rest of your life. The joy I would miss out on.  Not that I haven't thought about all the hard stuff, but the good stuff surpasses it by far.   If only all the major life changing descisions were this easy.   I can't really blog about what it is I'm talking about yet.  I don't want to jinx it.  Soon though.

I look around now and realize, this is my house... I've bought a house.   I have a real job, with benefits.  I have a family.  I get to be the sibling that's helping out.   Seven years ago I was doing everything in my power to destroy my life, and now I have everything I thought I'd never have.  (other then the husband, not to upset about that one.) 
So what's next?  I don't think school is something I want.  Maybe later when it won't be taking away from my quality time with my son.  I really don't like school. And I'm happy with where I am.  My job is like my second home.  There are some members of that work household that make things way harder then they should be. 
"do you really have to sweep the floor with the kabota for three minutes!"  and "Seriously just put that in the hopper!"  But every thing can't be perfect.  And honestly knowing that I can react normally with complete emotional compitency even about the stuff that would make a regular joe walk out the door makes me feel confident that I'm healthy.
  I've thought about thanking Dr. Oriellana with a letter or a card or something, but I just never seem to get to it.  It really helped those years back to have a doctor that actually let me have some power over what meds were being perscribed, and who actually listened and payed attention.  So if anyone is looking for a good psychiatrist in the Grand Rapids area, I highly recommend him.   Now I haven't been on meds in almost 4 years, but the step to getting better was paved by a doctor who cared when I said, "that med makes me feel horrible."  Eh, I'm just dragging on trying to think of things to talk about.    So, off I go.  My life is great, and I'm happy to be here.