Embracing my Darkness...

There can be no light without darkness, and no darkness without light...

I love the dark...always have...

Most people are afraid of the dark, associating it with evil, sadness, hidden dangers and yes, many of those things do live in the dark, but they also live in the light, unseen because people refuse to see it.

Even I was once afraid of the dark, but not anymore.

At least in the dark, if your smart you stay wary. You keep your senses sharp, your eyes open, and that same darkenss that hides the predators can shield you from them.

It's all about perspective...

While many people seek the spotlight, I prefer the shadows, while others love the day, I blossom at night.

To me darkness is freedom...

Thats not to say I don't love light.
I do.
When the day is cool and dry and the sun shining, it does make me happy and it energizes me. Sunlight invigorates me and I don't think I could live without the sun. It's all about balance. I appreciate the sun, it's just I become truly myself at night.

I just come alive in the dark.

When the lights go out, all my troubsome thoughts and insecurities seems to vanish, and what is left is the rawest, purest part of me.

I become bold, confident, mischevious. The darkness becomes my friend, confidant, companion.

Whenever I'm out and the lights go out, blackout, brownout, fuse blown, my heart begings to race and I can't help but smile.

Maybe that's a part of why I love thunderstorms. They bring together my two loves, darkenss and water.

Ever since I was little and even still to this day the blackness becomes a canvas for my mind to paint upon making anything possible.

For instance my talents truly come alive when the sun sets. 

I work better, write better, draw better. My mind becomes awake, clear of daytimes fog.

One of my favorate games as a kid was hiding in the closet and just sitting in the dark. 

Sounds weird I know, but it's true.

At first I tried with blankets or sofa forts, but there was always issues. 

To get the right level of darkness I needed a lot of blankets, but then the blankets would become too heavy making breathing and moving an issue. Next came sofa forts. I loved my sofa forts, but I could never quite get them light tight enough. Plus the added issue of them being in the living room which was a high traffic area.

Finally I took to sitting in the closet.

The closet was perfect. It was light tight, I could breath and move. The only issue was having to sit on uncomfortable shoes, but that was only a minor annoyance.

I loved sitting in there watching my eyes adjust to the darkness. Being able to see and hear what others could not.

I would lose time in there.

For me my memories are filled with wonderful moments in the dark.

Dances, lounges, shooting stars, every full moon, swimming in the ocean at night, a stolen kiss in a darkened room.

Sitting in the dark my senses take hold and I feel like I can see better then when there is light. 

I can feel the air currents, the heat that comes off my skin and that radiates off of others. I can hear the soft breathing of those around me, the sharp flap of bird wings on the air as well as an ambulance blocks away. I can smell the conditioner in my hair, the sweet smell of charcoal coming from a park BBQ, as well as the recent fresh smell of rain.

But whats interesting is that all those things I mentioned...all those things that used to only happen to me in the dark, are now coming into the light. As I allow myself to truly be myself as I embrace and except myself and my love of the dark, I find that I can bring the wonders of my dark experences into the light. My confidence has grown, my senses are sharper then they've ever been, I'm bolder, louder, stronger.

Yet though my day time experences have gotten better, there is still nothing better then a stolen kiss in the dark...unless there's also a thunderstorm...lol

Chemistry Anxiety Apocalypse: Old Phobias Back from the DEAD!!

So this is going to be a quick blog addressing one of the main reasons I haven't been able to write lately and for a change it doesn't revolve around my physical health.

They say when you get closet to your goal is when the universe decides to up the chaos and make life more difficult. This semester is a perfect example of how true that is.
I am only two semesters and 4 classes away from graduating and I am currently taking the college level chemistry course that will allow me to take those classes, but as luck would have it, my professor was not on his game this semester.

Though I was doing the required readings, the homework, the suggested practice problems, and even extra work, I couldn't for the life of me pass his exams. The first one was interrupted by a fire drill which didn't help matters, but each consecutive exam and quiz (except 1 where I got a 90) had questions on it that I couldn't answer, that I didn't recognize, and I was getting grades in the 60's.
At first I thought I was doing something wrong, that I wasn't taking proper notes, or that I was studying all wrong, but as it turned out I wasn't the only one having issues. Slowly in the background I would hear urgent whispers, then after the next exam those whispers turned to muted agitated voices, and finally to openly loud exclamations all with the same theme.

His exams were ridiculously hard!

Now I know college isn't supposed to be easy, and my particular major of Biotechnology is supposed to be hard. I've had my share of teachers that have made me work extra hard or on my own but this is a completely different animal all together. The questions on his exams were either worded in confusing ways, purposely tricky, were made up of questions we never covered, were multi-layered involving equations we didn't know we had to use, or if we did cover it, it was one problem done only one way and the exam was asking us to do it backwards.
It was insane and slowly each student was realizing they weren't the only ones feeling defeated. 

At first I ignored the talk because sometimes people just want classes to be easy so they can get that easy A, and are usually not interested in actually learning the subject, but as their words creeped in under my noise-canceling headphones, I realized it was the opposite.

These were students like me.

Students with high gpa's who enjoyed science and math, but felt like they were being punked every exam. Needless to say, after 2 exams, and 3 quizes, I was battle worn and ready to hang up my towel. I was getting a 99 in my lab, had no big issues with the material, but it felt like we were being asked to run a marathon when we had barely learned to crawl. But this marathon triggered an old phobia I thought was long past me. 

Back in high school I had exam phobia that would cause my mind to go blank and once again it had reared it's ugly head. Each consecutive low score made me scramble and as each test got nearer, my anxiety made my mind shut down. It was as if my mind had turned to quicksand. The more I fought, the harder I studied, the worse my anxiety would get, and the quicker my mind would go blank on the exam.

So spring break comes and goes, with me unable to study for exam #3 because I was now having blanking episodes at home. It was as if everything I had learned was being systematically wiped from my memory with every anxiety attack. My only saving grace being the chemistry extra credit paper I had to write, which would then proceed to get deleted 2 days before being due, forcing me to preform a 48 hour miracle while making sure I was properly exhausted on exam day.

Then on exam day as I'm sitting like a zombie in my honors society meeting, I look at the school calender and realize that I still have 1 day before I loose the ability to drop my class with a grade of W. (For those of you who don't know, your allowed up until a certain date to drop a class with a W which will not affect your gpa but will show up as a W on your transcript).

So here I am, completely wiped, waiting to take an exam I am wholeheartedly dreading, and I'm now considering dropping the class.

Not the best thing to contemplate on no sleep.

I spoke to my friends, and even called my mother to get her opinion. Everyone agreed that maybe dropping the class was the right choice and that I didn't need the added stress on my health, but with each agreement, though I felt less weight on my shoulders, I felt somthing hitch in the center of my chest.

I don't like giving up. Never have.

Some would call that stubborn, but yet others would call it just my warrior's spirit.

So I decided to wait it out.

I chose to take the exam, see if the professor made any changes to his approach since I last spoke to him about my issues, and hope that I could find a way to melt my mental ice block.

The exam started off well. I knew what to do for the first 5 problems but as 6 and 7 approched, my mind started to loose stability. I began to doubt my answers, my work, and even how to start the problem. The knowledge became wisps of intangible smoke sliding between my fingers everytime I attempted to grasp it. When the time was finally up and I left the room, I knew I had failed yet another test.
As I mindlessly walked away from the school my mind wandered. Do I give up? Do I take everything that I've accomplished, both good and bad, and flush it down the toilet? Will it really be better for me?

After spending the evening contemplating my educational fate I decided finally to stick it out. I knew if I stayed I wouldn't get my A but at least I would know I didn't give up, and if I had to retake the class, so be it.

Well, to make what should have been a short story shorter, I fought for every ounce of credit I could, doing so well on my extra credit paper that he wanted a copy to keep, and fought tooth and nail  to a B.

I was so sure I was failing the class I even registered for it again over the summer, but when I saw my grade it felt better then all of my A's put together.

I don't know what his deal was. If he was distracted by his research, or was just being a dick because some of my classmates kept pointing out his mistakes and asked too many questions.

I did find out he has been one of the leading teachers who helped to establish undergraduate research, and that he was super busy with a biotechnology seminar he was putting together all on top of his own research project.

I think he realized he was spread too thin as well because at the end of the semester he told us we would be his last CHE 202 class. He would only be teaching organic chemistry from now on.

I don't know what the fall semester will bring, I don't know if this resurgence of my old phobia will continue to haunt me. But what I do know is that I'm not giving up.

I will do what I can, as best I can, but I do know one thing...I WILL keep fighting.

Making an Attempt to Write Again

Photo by Laura Williams
You can find more of her amazing work here:
 On her blog: Climb the Rainbow
On her official Facebook site
and on Society 6 if you'd like to Buy Prints

So at this very moment I am sitting on my bed, with a tissue sticking out of my left nostril to keep another bloody nose at bay, attempting to write a blog entry into my iPad without my glasses.

I don't really know what to say. I can't answer why it's been so long since I wrote a blog entry other then I just haven't been able to write.

Life took over...

Between school, my health, family trouble, men dodging, psycho ex boyfriends, new friends, incompetent scholarships administration, and my daily struggles with my flip flopping insecurities, I haven't been able to express it in words other then multilingual expletives. 

But if there's one thing I can talk about now, its that I'm trying to regain my self-worth and how I'm beginning to learn to see myself differently.

Being a overweight 32 year old (though I keep telling people I'm 33 for some reason) college student is a lot harder then I thought, and when I say hard I don't mean the school work. I mean the constant bubbling up of all my old teenage baggage. My self-image hangups, my need for people to like me, my need for perfection, my anal retentive patterns, and my fallback mode of self-destructive self sabotage.

I kept feeding myself the lie that if I were thinner, in a relationship, had my degree, had a steady good paying job, that I would finally be confident and happy, but that's a load of crap.
I wanna be thin because it would make others more acceptable of me. I want to be thin because that's what other people want and if you don't want what other people want then your labeled defective. I want to be thin because the guys I'm attracted to are not attracted to women like me. I want a degree because I don't want to be looked down upon, I don't want people to say that I'm less then them and I want a steady good paying job for the same damn reason.

I mean What The FUCK!
(and yes I am fully aware that most of what I just said revolved around my weight...:-/)

That is the shit that runs through my head and I am embarrassed by it. I am embarrassed by the absurdity of my own thoughts. The juvenile girly shit I loathe in others I am spewing into my own head.

How is it I am buying into this crap?

I rationalize it by telling myself that I have to loose weight for my health, or that I'm getting my degree because I want to learn, or that I want a good steady job so I can pay my bills. But when you remove all the frilly lace, the bows, and you strip down the paint, it's the same piece of crap reasons they've always been, the need to be accepted.

It's horrible to realize that the free thinking, independent, non-corporate, person you thought you were, is nothing more then a costume that comes crumbling down like face paint during a summer heat wave, and that's what college has done to me. Made me realize that I never dealt with my issues, just covered them up in increasing amounts of body-fat and some sort of self induced Stockholm syndrome.

But the crazy part is, around the same time I realized this about myself was the same time I realized it was no longer true.

I first noticed it a few days ago at a high school friends birthday get together. Here I was in my nightmare scenario, by myself at a party filled with fashion insiders, models, and photographers. My high school friend who is a model herself and is dressed to the nines, introduces me to all her friends and coworkers, and the casual chit chat among strangers begins. In that moment I told myself "fuck it" I may not belong here among these beautiful people but I didn't come here for them, I came here for my friend. So I waded in head first into social shark territory deciding to be my natural, honest, and joke cracking self  in the same way I normally am with my friend. I didn't worry about my foul mouth, or my lack of fashion knowledge. I didn't care because it didn't matter. Then a few hours later I'm standing in a little group of models with my friend standing next to me, just talking and cracking jokes about the issues of living in NY when my friend just asks them out of nowhere "isn't she beautiful?" which was in reference to me. Without hesitation these tall women of fashion land agreed with her.
I was dumbfounded.
Not one condescending back handed complement. Not one role of the eyes or moments hesitation. Not one mention of having a pretty face, nice hair, or pretty eyes, all complements above the chin (which to me has always been the not so secret code for "cute but fat"). Not one word replacement of beautiful with sweet, or charming. Just complete honest agreement with no jokes thrown in.

Sure, it was nice to be labeled beautiful by a bunch of fashion models (yes the acceptance thing again...), but what surprised me was that they weren't talking about just my outward appearance, but me as a whole overstuffed enchilada. For the first time strangers were complementing me for being me. I was being accepted because I wasn't trying to be accepted.

Yea, call me confused. 

But then again it made sense. The people I am drawn to. The people I see as beautiful or intriguing are usually the people who are confident in themselves and are not trying to be something that they're not. The people I've always found to be beautiful are not the people who are the cookie cutter "nice looking" model types but the people who are unique, interesting, and owning it. And somehow, on that night, I became one of those people. Granted I lost that confidence power-up the very next day (no miracles here) but now I know what it feels like, and it has opened my eyes.

I realized that over my time in college and probably even a little before that when I first fell ill, I started to see myself in a new way. I started to like myself for who and am, as I am, without even knowing it, and it's only now that my change in self view is beginning to show through on the surface. I started to appreciate things about myself as the challenges I faced made me learn more about who I truly am. It's hard to explain but I had to face the hard truth behind my motivations in order for me to see the positive changes I had already, unconsciously made.

I spent so many years only focusing on the negative things I wanted to change, that I never truly got to know me as a person and going to college has forced me to face myself, find myself, and for the first time in my life I can truly say I like me.

So here's to "in keeping with the situation!..." (quote from a favorite movie of mine)

Quick Blog: Ex-Boyfriend Wont take NO for an Answer!

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Saccharine Sweet Sentimental Garbage

I look back.

Vibration of a V engine,

mechanical thunder,

and my breath catches.

Glimpses of cream colored memories

in apple scented leather,

and my pulse races.

Sly smiles of

cigarettes and sage.

The weight of it presses down. 

Lustful mocha colored eyes,

pain and power,

fold my weakened knees. 

Bending bruised heart,

reopened wound,

my doubt rebounded.

I stop.

Eyes forward,

chin lifted,

I take my breath back.

Hands open,

back straightened,

my pulse slows.

Muscles tighten,

rib cage is lifted,

my strength returns.

With bruised knees,

and a battered heart,

my fingers stanch the hemorrhage.

I step forward.

A Long Time Coming...Spring Semester & Surgery...

To say I am tired is an understatement of unbelievable scope.
Besides finishing my spring semester, I've also undergone surgery to remove the breast tissue from underneath my right armpit.

After getting sick this past spring semester, I discovered something rather disturbing. As I got well all of my lymph nodes went down except the ones in my right armpit forming a lump. At first I didn't pay it any mind thinking it was just a weird reaction my body was undergoing to being ill. I just figured it would eventually go away. Well, it didn't.
In fact as time went on it got larger (about the size of a golf ball) and notably painful to the point that simply touching it or putting on my bra became minor torture.  It was especially bad when I was PMSing due to the area swelling even more. I tried to perform the normal self check looking for nodules and I could sort of feel a few, but the pain prevented me from doing a proper check. The more pressure I placed on the area, the worse the pain got, and the more it would swell.

During all this time at school I was undergoing finals, papers, presentations, and projects, so the added stress of not knowing what was going on with me took it's toll. I kept thinking about my uncle and his lump that turned out to be lymphoma so of course my lump began to play on my mind as well.

I eventually went to see my surgeon, the one who had performed my other biopsy in a similar location on my left side, and after examining me he told me that it had to come out. He didn't think it was anything to truly worry about, but because it was growing and causing me pain, the best course of action was to remove it and test it to be absolutely sure. So this past Thursday May 23, 2013, I went under general anesthesia, and the knife to remove the lump of breast tissue. First time I had ever been put to sleep for a procedure, and it went really well. I still wonder if I said anything while unconscious, but I'll have to ask the doctor when I see him a week from tomorrow.

Now I'm undergoing recovery, and it isn't easy. My underarm is encased in a pressure dressing which is packed with gauze. I am not allowed to lift heavy things, or extend my arm too far in order to avoid opening the wound which is in a tricky spot. I haven't been allowed to bathe, until today which I am greatly looking forward to.
I'm ok with pain until I do some movement I'm not supposed to do which I find out because I'm hit with a deep slow sharp pain that catches me off guard. Also instead of the pain getting better, it's actually gotten worse over the last few days as my wound begins to mend from the inside out and my underarm hairs begin to grow back in under the dressing. Today even the gentle pull of gravity caused me enough minor discomfort that eventually it took it's toll and I had to lie down.
I find myself super hungry and tired for no apparent reason, but I suspect that it's all due to my body using up a lot of energy to heal itself.

I decided to get it done now because one, I was afraid to wait any longer, and two, because now that my spring semester is over I have a week off to heal before I head back for summer classes on June 3rd.

Sometimes I think I'm crazy for doing as much as I do. But each step brings me closer to my future, and so far I'm doing a pretty good job. Got another set of straight A's this past Spring semester, even with all the lump drama. So I'm feeling pretty good about where I'm headed, even if that future requires a little sacrifice of flesh and pain. Just taking it one step at a time....

WTH: Pre-Spring Semester in Seclusion....

This is the first of a few backlogged posts that I didn't have time to get to...
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The moment the holiday season hits with thanksgiving my life starts its speed round but this year it was worse.

Having some of my more difficult finals coincide with the holidays and quite a few birthday was like adding an accelerant to a Greek fire. By the end of my fall semester (officially the end to my first year) I had completely burnt myself out.

My kickboxing went out the window replaced by hours of essays, papers, lab reports, studying, and math exercises and when the dust had settled I was in a full on Fibromyalgia crisis. I stayed home almost my whole break only going out for holidays and birthdays. Then when I thought I was getting better I got hit by some sort of semi-flu. It's what happens when you get infected with a bad strain of the flu but you don't quite get sick because you got the flu shot, so your body becomes the battleground and you suffer from some of the physical symptoms without the fever and vomiting. Not sure if my Fibromyalgia exasperated it but it was bad. My lymph-nodes on the entire right side of my upper body were so swollen that it actually caused me pain to move. Like fingers of pain reaching from my lower right jaw and behind my right ear, around the back of my head, down my neck and right shoulder, into my armpit spreading around my back and down my arm. The pain and swelling alone caused constant headaches and stiff necks which I haven't suffered from since I was a kid.

As of this writing I'm finally feeling better. I have energy again, most of the symptoms have gone except lingering neck and head pains, and I've gained back the weight I had lost, all just in time for the beginning of the spring semester...lol...

Re-awaking My Inner Voice: Another Apocalypse Let Down and College Year 1 Locked DOWN!!!

I'm Still ALIVE!!...or did I die and hell looks exactly like my life...lol...if that's the case then hell aint too bad so far...guess I'll never know...lol
Some media actually asked the descendants of the Mayans if they were ready for the end of the world and they looked at the guy like he was crazy. One dude even said that us freaking out about it was like "freaking out every year when the calender ends on December 31st. The world doesn't end at the last page of our calender, so why would we think it would end on the Mayans calendar." He was also going to work on Friday just like any day...lol
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Well here I am again....
It's been so long since I've written just for myself I feel like a foal after being born trying to find her legs. Reconnecting with my inner voice, my writers voice, is proving itself rather tricky especially since I still have that left over stress from finishing my first fall semester.

But that's right Bitches!...I've officially finished my first year of college...What..WHAT!! but I have yet to fully accept it for some reason...
I actually still feel anxious like I have an essay or paper that I forgot to write, or some project I forgot to do so I can't seem to relax. But maybe I just need to get my grades so it can sink in and my sphincter can relax...

Then there's the ex crap.

Yes more ex crap!
Since October I've had a lot of trouble unconsciously thinking about the ex, missing him, worrying about him when Sandy hit, and because of the storm we spoke again. But when you miss someone you always just seem to remember the good times and I had to remind myself it wasn't all "good times". There was a reason I broke up with him and that hadn't changed. So though I was writing poems in my head about how I felt just needing to expel the crap that was clouding my vision and weighing on my chest I couldn't. I was so consumed with school work I barely had time to do that let alone write for my own sanity. It got so bad that it was actually distracting me and I was slipping up with my work load. That was when I gave myself a reality check, put my priorities in order, and really threw myself completely into what was important, my education. I had to remind myself that I've come too far to let anything and I mean ANYTHING stop me from following my path.

He and I were like two puzzle pieces that look like they fit perfectly together, but in fact one piece has a small rough corner while the other has a smooth one. No matter how hard you try to shove those pieces together, pushing and forcing them, they're just not gonna fit. At least not unless you cut one of them, but then if you cut it, what was the point of doing the puzzle in the first place.
But life moves on and I know my life isn't over. In fact I had a very sweet though rather hyper 16 year old competing with this other guy on who was gonna sit next to me in class. Both were complete flirts which I wont lie was rather nice when the last guy you were with made you feel unattractive and it was very sweet in a creepy kinda way considering I'm old enough to be his mother...lol...but it was nice just to know someone was interested. Obviously nothing came of it because I'm not a pedophile, and the other dude was sweet, but not my type so I made sure not to be too friendly with either one and  finals came and went without me having to deal with any uncomfortable conversations.

But speaking about dudes flirting with me, there was this one real "winner" in my Biology Lab class who was one of the reasons I started taking kickboxing classes, because I wanted to literally KILL HIM!!!
All I can figure is that he must live in one of those pretty people bubbles believing that because he's good looking all he has to do is flirt with his female classmates and they'll fall all over themselves to basically do his work for him. Well I was his kryptonite because non of his tricks worked on me and his inability with me effected his game with our other remaining female lab partners. If anything the harder he tried with me, the more it just pissed me off. He's one of those assholes who doesn't want to do his work, wants you to tell him the answers cause he doesn't want to think, or will argue with you if you know his answer is wrong and you tell him so. He must be so used to people telling him yes and giving him what he wants that when I first told him no he looked so shocked that I laughed at him.
The last lab we had together we were all using our phones to take pictures of some papers we needed to use to help practice for our final and he made the mistake of telling me to just send him my picture. That was my breaking point. I looked at him and the words just flew out of my mouth.
"Excuse Me!!...You did NOT just tell Me to send you a picture of something that you are fully capable taking yourself." He then said with a smile "Oh you know I don't like taking pictures". To which I responded. "You know...your so full of shit! I don't give a flying rats ass what you "like" to do, you got a cell phone just like the rest of us, you can take your own damn picture! I'm not your Mama!"
Of course he laughed just as assholes do, and my other lab partners who were also fed up with his shit just looked at me with satisfied smiles on there faces. I then spent the rest of the time we had left in class trying to keep myself from leaping across the table like some 70's TV show cop leaping over the hood of a car and punching him the throat.

Ok...that's enough for now...

(photo above The White Wolf Woman by ~dkjart)

The Two Faces of Lina: Comic Con and Kicking My ASS Off

I've been soo busy with my full school schedule I haven't had time to do much of anything let alone blog, so here's a quick update on things....

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Went to Comic Con on Sunday, October 12th. Once again I went with my girlfriend who got me a deal on tickets. Was also supposed to meet up with an Ex from way back when who was working at the con but between getting their late, the madness of the place, my short stature, and how busy he got, we never saw one another. Somehow it seems as if in my world men and Comic Con don't mix.
My other Ex (the more recent one) wanted to go with me when we were apart, then when we got together and Comic Con rolled around he wasn't interested. Now with this old ex, waning me to meet him there, even offering to get me in for free, than when I get there, poof, he's buried in customers and I can't find him nor my way from A to Z because the place is so packed with people.
For the little time I was there I enjoyed myself, until I pulled my back out dodging out of the way of some stupid asshole kids...yep I'm becoming an old lady...lol

Oh well...at least I got my gift from him...which was really rather neat.
He got me a handmade Klingon slave girl statue that he had showed me years ago and had said reminded him of me. She's got the same body type as me except a little lighter on a few pounds, and when I saw her it was the first time I saw my body shape in a positive light. You see my ex never had a problem with my body. He seemed to like it just the way it was, though I had my issues, so when I saw this statue it was like seeing myself the way he saw me and for the first time I saw myself as being sexy. Back then I had wanted to buy it, but the man who had made it only made two and both had sold out. Well it turns out my Ex never forgot how much I loved it, contacted the guy and convinced him to sculpt one more, which he then bought for me and held on to it for all these years.
Pretty impressive for a guy who can be and still is such a dick...lol

So since I started writing this blog it's been a little over a month of Kickboxing and I've lost a total of 10 pounds, which isn't that much considering the time, but when I look at the bigger picture I was actually amazed at my progress.

When I began the class it worked me so hard I left it completely wasted and wanting to puke. My legs were shaking making walking a challenge and any stairs I encountered became a scary obstacle. Then that weekend my body literally shut down. Moving any part of my body became excruciating, I was walking like Frankenstein and stairs became a ridiculous impossibility because the pain would actually buckle my knees. In fact that weekend I became stuck in my aunts basement, only going up if my bladder was busting and only by double stepping every stair. I needed about 4 days to recover each time, but even though it was painful somehow it felt like good pain. I felt parts of my body hurt I didn't even know had muscle. So at the beginning I had to arrange my schedule so I could take the class and be out of commission for 4 days, not an easy task when your going to school too, which meant I could go once a week only. So I started once a week for about three weeks before my body and stamina were strong enough to do it twice a week. I couldn't change how I ate right away because of my busy schedule. But exercising as hard as I was made me want to take control of what I was putting into my body. I spent a little money on a juicer, bought a well received liquid vitamin, and slowly replaced all sugar drinks in my house with seltzer, and ordered crap with healthy options. Now I find when I indulge in something bad it'll taste funny, or taste too sweet. Because of that I find myself even more unconsciously drawn to healthy options.

But the biggest change has been in my body.

They always say don't trust the scale trust your clothing, well they were fucking right!!

It started off with little things like going up hills took less effort, my thighs seemed thinner or my school bag didn't feel as heavy. But now it's showing in the way my stomach is disappearing, in my posture, and in the way my body responds to my workouts. Hell...I did 20 partnered push ups the other day where you push up then high five your partner, and I've never done 20 push ups in my LIFE, plus I did them straight without stopping....lol

 But now after I finish a workout I may feel physically exhausted, but I feel energized at the same time. I end up refreshed and look forward to my next workout though I know afterward I'm gonna pay. I'm craving it but now that I'm seeing results the pain seems worth it.

Ok...Since this blog is already too long...I'll leave the other stuff (namely school stuff) for another blog...

(Picture above I took at Comic Con)

IT'S ALIVE: The Resurrection of Running My Ass OFF...

So...this has been a long time coming but it needed to happen...
I'm bringing back to life my "get fit" campaign called "Running My Ass OFF"...because I'm tired of being out of shape and allowing all my stress to expand the size of my Ass!
The only thing is I'm gonna roll this in a bit of a different direction and I am no longer going to do it all on my own...
I've decided I needed help and that help is coming in the form of kickboxing classes...

Yes...I am now taking kickboxing classes...HA!

It's funny cause with everything that's been going on, it was my stress that actually gave me the idea...
After finding out my uncle had been diagnosed with lymphoma my stress level hit a whole new high. I found myself mad almost all the time and if I didn't want to cry I wanted to hit something. So every time I went to my aunts house, if I started to feel angry or upset, I would make use of the neglected punching bag in her basement gym.
Not only did I find that punching and kicking the living shit out of it helped tremendously, but I found it came almost naturally to me. I wasn't flaying my arms like a girl, but I was hitting and kicking like I had training and I was enjoying it. I enjoyed how tired I would get after a few punches and kicks, but how I wanted to do more. How I would feel calmer afterward, yet strangely energized and invigorated.
So I started looking into kickboxing classes.

I did the Google searches and asked people I knew, but the one place that kept coming up was ILoveKickboxing.com. At first I was skeptical since the web sight looked like one of those low graphic "as seen on TV" bogus sights that turns out not to be legitimate, but what kept it on my radar was it's multiple locations (one a couple of subway stops from my school), their web deal of 3 classes for $20 including free gloves (no not promoting just stating facts), and finally that my favorite Biggest Loser Tara Costa is there official spokesperson (yea I know...but she was the only person I could stand on that show...lol)
So I put it to the side for awhile nervous if I should take the plunge and if it would be worth it, when my mother comes to me telling me about this sight she found for a kickboxing classes and my aunt tells me she also passed by a kickboxing gym and got me its info. Both of them had found the same place I had on there own, and my aunt had actually gone to the location I was interested in and said it looked good.

For me that was it. Like a sign from the fates telling me to "just do it already!". As you can imagine, when the universe yells at you that loudly, you better start listening, so that night I signed up and the next day I made an appointment for my first class that Friday.
I did it, I took the plunge, so now it's just a matter of seeing if my body can handle it...

I'll talk about my first few classes in my next installment called "Kickboxing my Ass Off"...

Left Behind: Many Months Of Updates...

I've been dealing with so many things...so much shit I don't know where to begin.... and because of that I'm afraid this blog is going to sound like a rather long self pity party...so let me start with the good.

I've been studying hard and aced my midterm, (got 102% which is because I got the 4 point extra credit but lost 2 points for mislabeling one of my answers) and got a 98% on my final (which I was actually pissed about) which landed me an exact score of 100% for the whole class which means I hold on to that 4.0 GPA....But that's about it for the good news...

As for the bad (and I'll try to keep most of this brief in order to avoid sounding like I'm whining...)...

Lets start with the weight gain since my breakup...
He made me feel like a cow and now I've turned into more of a cow. Granted it's only 10 pounds but that's A LOT! I know part of it is the depression but also how he made me feel before I left. I've come to realized that my weight is my way of hiding from people, especially men, like a protection mechanism. So for instance if I feel bad about myself I don't want people to see me, so I eat more and gain weight, in a sense becoming invisible to most people. The better I feel about myself, and my body, the more I like myself the way I am, the more weight I loose because I don't mind people seeing me. It took me so many years to build up my confidence, to be ok with people noticing me again, and once I started feeling good about myself, even when I was really heavy, is when the weight started to really come off. It's just the way I seem to work. The happier I am with myself, the more weight I loose and the happier I become. The more I hate my body, the more weight I gain, and the more I hate myself. They're a domino effect that once started, is hard to stop. My break up got me falling in the wrong direction and now I'm struggling to catch up and stop it so I can get it moving in the right direction again.
But the break up isn't the only reason I've been gaining weight. Stress worrying over my family is another factor.

First there was my Mom, breaking right wrist on Mothers Day....and yes she is right handed...
We had just gotten back from a great dinner at my aunts house and were walking the dog, when this lady came up on us with her two sheep dogs leading the way. Max was in the middle of peeing on a tree when one of her dogs barked at us, and Max lunged sending my mother flying into the sidewalk face first, her feet unstable because of the trees roots. I saw her fall, forward on her hands and knew from the way she landed that it was bad, but had to chase after Max before things got worse. So jumping into the dog fight without even thinking about how dangerous that is, I got my hands on Max, got him in control and rushed back to my mother to help her up. From the way she was holding her right wrist I knew she was hurt bad, but it wasn't till I asked her if she was ok, and she replied "no", an answer she never gives me, that I knew we were headed to the ER.
She had fractured her wrist and broke her ring finger to the point that they needed to put pins in and she had to go on disability, so since that night I've been running the house.
I walk the dog, cook, clean, fill out forms and pay what bills that need checks or signatures (as my mom can't write with her left hand) all while going to school, and work. I guess the silver lining in all this is that I always knew I could run a house, but it's different now that I'm actually doing it. Sure I'm exhausted, but its a "proud of myself" kind of exhaustion, and by stepping up without being asked, I've seemed to have earned another level of my mothers respect.

Then finally the thing that has me the most stressed. The thing that has kept me up at night and edgy is whats been going on with my uncle.
My uncle has a tumor growing behind his ear, right over his limp-nodes, and we found out it's lymphoma. He's had it for months, and since he doesn't have insurance, he goes to a clinic which means it takes forever to get anything done. He had a biopsy done but when the results came back inconclusive, they decided he had to have a surgical biopsy done. 
The week after my birthday is when they scheduled his surgery, and even though I went straight from my night class to catch a 10pm train out to NJ so I could go with him to the hospital, he didn't want me there.
He made some excuses about how I needed to stay home with the dog, and when I tried to tell him the dog would be fine he got mad. So even though it broke my heart I stayed at the house because this wasn't about me and all I wanted was for him to be ok, one way or the other.
So I sat in my aunts house hurt and worried. Jumping at every phone call while wallowing in self pity, but still my mind understood why he didn't want me there. He was scared, and he didn't want anyone, let alone me, to see him like that. I understood because the same thing happened when his Mom my Grandma passed away. His way of dealing with something he's afraid of, something he can't control or runaway from is to lash out, especially at those closest to him.
I dealt with my pain for weeks, and he continued to push people away, until my Mom stepped in and had a talk with him about it.
This wasn't something to handle alone, especially not when he has so many people who love him and are there to help. Even the doctor told him not to deal with this alone. That when your dealing with something like cancer it's important to have people around you to help you, because it's so overwhelming on your own you could forget things, or even not show up for treatment.
When he saw what he was doing, things changed. Not only did he welcome Moms help he wanted me around too. And when I didn't understand why my mother told me that if he had to have anyone around he wanted me because I was one of the few people he felt safe with and could talk to.
As you can imagine, that made me cry because this man is one of the most important people in my life. When my father wasn't around he was there, taking me to class, picking me up from ballet or swimming, teaching me how to hit a ball or do a proper sleeper hold. He's the man I compare other men to. He's my Dad/older annoying brother. 
So I put away past pain, prepared for any future ugliness, and dove in.
Since then we found out about what type of lymphoma it is, and how its not curable, but because it's in its early stages and hasn't spread it can be treated. That he has to undergo radiation but not chemo and with any  luck once the cancer is treated it shouldn't make another appearance for a few years.

In a nut shell....no matter what happens, no matter how much stress I have to endure, no matter how broken, or beaten I sometimes feel, not matter how fat my ass gets, one thing I can swear...
If he or anyone else in my family needs me I'll be there, because I wouldn't have all that I have, or been able to deal with the shit the fates have put in my way without them...
I will keep fighting...for them and for me...

Always and forever...

This is a Blog for a few of my ASSHOLE Prospective Suitors....

I am as of this moment sitting in my living room, unable to sleep worried about if tomorrow I find out that my uncle, who is like my father, has lymphoma...so I'm not in a writing kind of mood...but this is something that's been bothering me and I have to get it off my chest before I go off on someone...
-----------------------------------------
I don't know if the guys who are interested in me even read my blog and frankly I don't really care. I am tired of feeling like a wounded animal surrounded by jackals waiting for me to die!
If I tell you I just got out of a relationship, with the only man I've ever loved, and that I need time, why would you push it??

It's been about 3 months since my breakup...
I don't know if this tactic has worked on women in the past, or if you think because I'm wounded that I'm weak and an easy fuck, but all that does is piss me the FUCK Off!!
If I say I need time, guess what that means, that I fucking need time!!
I don't need anyone telling me that I have to get over it, I'll get over it when I'm fucking ready to and not before!!
And where the FUCK do you get the balls to TELL ME that I need to get over it already because
"he didn't love you.."
HOLY SHIT!! ARE YOUR FUCKING KIDDING ME??
How in Gods name do you even let that come out of your mouth??
You don't think I know that!!
You don't think that's the main reason I finally decided to break up with him!!
How Dare YOU!!!!

I really don't understand men anymore...
When I say I need time, I NEED TIME...
It's not rocket science people...I don't say one thing and mean another...I'm pretty straight forward about things when I'm able to talk about it...
So if I say I need time, then either you be a friend and give me that time or walk the fuck away...
If and when I'm ready to pursue a relationship with you, I'll let you know...
If your still single then great, if not, so be it...but I'm not gonna rush into something like some fucking insecure bimbo who can't stand on her own two feet for more then five minuets.

I've been single before and it's no skin off my noes...
Sure I have a libido to rival any man, but guess what, technology is a wonderful thing....

Fucking ASSHOLES!!!

I Can't Believe I Forgot to Write About My Tattoos!!!!!

Yep...I got me some tattoos!!!
By no means my first tattoos, but definitely the most significant since the very first one I got when I turned 18.

Not only are they my first truly visible tattoos (my others are on my back), what they represent is a new stage in my life that I've worked so hard to get to but never believed I would actually achieve. They represent getting my life back on track, getting back to school, getting into college, and completing my very first semester.

They are wolf paws (actual sized) with a scene of a tee-pee and fire under a full moon and dusk sky within one, and a wolf eye looking through the paw print back out at you, in the other...

Now I know what some of you are gonna say about tattoos...
That here's just another woman ruining her future by marking herself up like some common floozy, limiting her choices of employment, and even limiting her pool of potential mates. That just like everyone else she picks some random "symbol" to represent some meaning that no one but her will understand, so they will seem confusing to everyone else. That I'll look horrible when I'm old and my tattoos are all warped and saggy...yea...yea...heard them all....
But unlike a lot of these people out here who are getting tattoos because they are following a growing fad, I've loved tattoos since I was old enough to form vowels. The idea of wearing someones artwork as a part of you forever I always found fascinating and beautiful. The fact that it's reminiscent and originated from of ancient tribal practices that used them to mark important times in a persons life appealed to me most of all. That's why each tattoo I have I got during an important time in my life. Each one is a way of remembering an important time in my life, an important step in my journey, and by setting a reminder within my skin, I never forget it or the pain that it took to get me there.

These kick ass tattoos were done by an equally kick ass artist by the name of Alex Sherker, who lives on Wizard Mountain...;-)
An old acquaintances from when I was a teenager and going to native ceremony's. He's a big guy who probably could break me like a twig, and has probably broken others, but was nothing but a sweet gentlemen with a twisted and warped sense of humor (so u know he's my people).
He's basically a tall bearded wizard who welds a tattoo wand, a funny ass dude and a great guy. Plus if your lucky, he'll introduce you to his second in command Genkie (hope I spelled that right), his beautiful dingo mix.
Right now he's doing private tattoos out of his studio in New York but because his web sight is currently down, the best way to contact him is on Facebook.

The weirdest part is I found him by mistake. I was looking for a good tattoo studio in Manhattan, close to school and discovered a shop called  East Side Ink...While looking through their porfolio, the high level of skill that these guys possessed actually made me giddy with excitement, but then I saw a familar face. I couldn't place it at first until I saw some old pictures my teacher had up on her Facebook page and realized I met the dude years ago when I was in high school. It was then I knew this was the guy who was gonna do my tattoo. It was way too coincidental. So I started up communication, found out he was just as cool as I remembered and got the ball rolling.

It took 3 1/2 - 4 hours (can't quite remember since I was high on endorphin's by the end of it...lol), with a 5 min break between each arm. Probably should have done each arm in separate sessions, but between wanting to be a bad ass, needing to get the pain over with so I wouldn't pussy out, and anxiously wanting to see it all finished, I pushed through.

Some people though excited about me getting my tattoos at first had a bit of a reverse reaction once they finally saw how big they were and where they were placed. My aunts who loved the idea of me getting ink all of a sudden seemed shocked and worried that they were too big and would be too visible, but eventually got over it and became positive again.
Then my uncles, who I expected a strong negative reaction from because of how they had reacted when I had revealed my first couple tattoos, seemed to handle it better then their sisters.
My mom of course was solid and unchanging with her enthusiasm. Not only accompanying me when I got the tattoos, but was chomping at the bit to help me plan my next one.
But I began to realized my family weren't the only ones reacting to my new tattoos.

I was now getting side glances on the train as well as funny looks while walking down the street. But this, unlike my families reaction, I found rather humorous.
So I began fucking around with people on my train rides to class. I would make sure I left the house looking very cute and sweet, but making sure my tattoos were covered. Then when I got on the train, nice and comfortably seated, I'd raise my sleeves and watch the fireworks of popping eyelids and double takes.
It's like smorgasbord of expressions, my favorite being confusion...lol

So yes...I got me a pair of bold tattoos...the first ones I don't need a mirror and gymnastic flexibility to look at and I'm super happy with them. I've already started to forget they're even there and am already thinking about my next one...
The only thing is I have yet to tell my father...because I know he's NOT gonna react well and because I'm a chicken shit...
I might be able to sit through almost constant pain like a bad ass but I'm still a chicken on some things....

Well....at least I'm an honest chicken...lmao!

30 and in College: Finals, Broken Limbs, and GPAs...

So much has happened I don't know where to begin…

This bittersweet month started off with me in a funk over the breakup, had me smiling and feeling like I got a bit of myself back by the end of the week, only to emotionally crash land after a scare on Mothers Day, all the while I had finals to deal with as well as family heath scares that were on my mind.

It started when I had my last English class before the our final.
He gave us the normal three subjects to write about, except this time all three subjects were questions on the two articles we had to read for our final essay.

Kind of a practice run.

So I picked the one I felt most passionate about and got to writing.
It just flowed out of me, paragraph after paragraph, and before I knew it, I had written much more then the needed 500 words, with enough time to go over my work.
And of course we had to read what we had written out loud. Now normally I'm a "closer" or the one the teacher calls on at the end of class to end things on a high note, since my classmates seem to  like what I write so much. But today the teacher decided to throw me a curve ball and called on me first.
Time stood still as I read out loud the words that moments ago were just puffs of smoke in my mind. and when I was done, I heard something I've never heard before...applause.
Some of my classmates actually applauded, while others laughed appreciatively and smiled at me. In a strange way, this acceptance and appreciation of my writing was worse then when they couldn't understand the meaning of my work and judged me so harshly. I didn't know what to do with it except laugh too, even though I had an overwhelming urge to hide my head beneath my desk.
After that things went well...

I had my finals to distract me from the pain of having to say goodbye to someone loved but who wasn't good for me, and that Thursday I went into my Math final feeling pretty confident.
But then came Mothers Day...

It started out great...
Spent the day with my aunt, uncle, and Mom just relaxing. We got mani pedis, my uncle cooked dinner, we enjoyed each others company and went home very happy. Once home Mom and I took the dog out for his evening walk.
As our Max was peeing a waterfalls worth of urine on the tree in front of our building, a woman came up the block with her two sheep dogs leading. Now if you know dogs you know if they're leading, your not in control of them, and this woman saw us standing there, but kept approaching. Well all it took was one aggressive bark and lunge from one of her dogs to set Max off and he went after him, sending my mother, who was standing on the tree roots, flying forward then slamming face first onto the concrete. I saw her fall and wanted to go to her first, but my priority became Max who was now about to get into a dog fight with bad odds, two against one. So worried about my Mom and not even thinking about the dumb woman and her dogs, I jumped in the fight, grabbed my dog by his jowls, and commanded him to stop. It was as if my voice snapped him back to reality, cause he stopped immediately. I then took him and ran back to my mom who was now standing up but holding her right wrist at a strange angle. I asked her if she was ok, and she uttered something she's never said to me in all the years I've known her, she said No.

This is a woman who knows pain the way one would know a long time lover, so for her to tell me she was not ok, I knew we were going to the ER.
But the dog still had to be walked, and I couldn't argue with her about it, so I gave her the keys, took the dog around the corner to poop, then literally ran home. My legs moving faster as fearful thoughts of her passed out in the apartment with me unable to get in, flooded my brain. But she was as fine as one can be in this situation and was able to buzz me in.

I got her to the hospital fairly quickly considering, and thanks to the fact that we got there before the shift change, and that shes an employee, we were fast-tracked through the ER.
3 hours, 2 x-rays, and some dumb ass questions later (like the x-ray tech asking which arm was broken, when she was standing there holding up her right arm that was wrapped in a rather large and obvious splint), my aunt showed up, and I was promptly sent home against my will because I had my English final the very next day. I knew I wasn't going to sleep, and though they got home by 1:30am, I didn't actually fall asleep till 3am.

My aunt (who is a saint) stayed with us so that I could go to class the next day without worrying about Mom being alone.

Ha!...

Though the gesture was appreciated there was no way I wasn't going to worry, and things began to turn around when I found out that morning I got a 92% on my Math final. But that happiness quickly faded when the madness from the night before finally caught up with me in the form of a migraine right before my English final, so needless to say, I left that final feeling like I didn't do as well as I could have.

My life had turned upside down overnight...
Now...Not only did I have finals to study for, but I had Mom to worry about, a house to run, a dog to walk, dinner to make or order, chores to do, and tons of disability papers to fill out. At first it felt overwhelming, but I adapted pretty quickly reminding myself that if I lived alone, this is what I would have to do. I also didn't want Mom to feel bad, cause even though she was in crazy amounts of pain, she's the type who would still worry about everyone else before herself.
So I did what I had to do, and whenever I had to go to class during the day, or if I had a final I had to prepare for, my aunt was there to give me the support I needed.

While I abused myself mentally studying for my Music final whenever I had a free moment, that week I took Mom to see the ER's referred orthopedic surgeon.

He was great!!

Not only was he friendly, he answered all our questions without any condescension and even looked into our concern over my mothers ring finger what was swollen, and painfully bruised. I knew it had to be broken, but no one in the ER had bothered to look at it or even x-ray it. So the doc took us into an office and snapped his own x-ray's with a nifty miniature, free standing, instant x-ray machine that looked like it came right out of a futuristic scifi flick. Well thank God for Mom's little broken finger, cause when he took his x-rays, he saw a whole slew of problems that could only be fixed with surgery and the application of pins in her wrist and her finger. So we scheduled the surgery for the following Friday as that Friday I had my Music final and between me worrying about her, and her worried about me worrying instead of being relaxed for my final, there was no way we could do it that Friday.

When Friday came I got through my Music final without killing my teacher, and felt pretty good about how I did on the test. Then I spent the Saturday and Monday drooling into my Psychology book preparing for the final I had coming that Tuesday. But when Sunday rolled around, Mom and I went out to brunch with my two aunts and two of my uncles, to celebrate a proper Mothers day without anyone breaking anything.
Once home I got right back to studying, and though I wasn't able to study as well as I had hoped, when "D-Day" arrived, I went in to take my test knowing I did the best I could.

After my psychology test all there was left for me to do was to wait for my scores to be posted for the spring semester, but besides all the house hold stuff I had to do, Mom's surgery on Friday was enough on it's own to distract my mind.

So when Friday came we were ready. I had helped Mom bathe the night before, her dress (which was just easier to take on and off) was laid out, paper work was filled out and signed, and I got up an hour early (6am) to walk the dog so we could leave the house by 8am.
When we got to the hospital everything went smooth.
I signed her in, went with her to talk to the nurse, helped her change into her gown, escorted her to the holding area where they prepped her for surgery, questioned the doctors, and said my goodbye as they began to knock her out.
The surgery took and hour and a half, which I spent with my aunt at a coffee shop next to the hospital. She had arrived after we had already started the process of getting Mom ready, but thank God she was there because she was a much needed and welcome distraction.
After the hour and a half was up we headed back to the waiting room, where I decided to use my phone to check and see if they had posted my scores yet...
Well low and behold...they did....

I got all A's...which means my GPA is now a 4.0!!!
I didn't expect A's...maybe one or two but not all A's!
It was something I didn't think I could achieve...something that I never wanted to strive for because I didn't want to get my hopes up.
And as if that moment couldn't get any better, the doctor called me to tell me that Mom was fine, the surgery went perfectly, and she was now resting in recovery....
It was like everything I had worked so hard for, all my stress all my worries had just lifted off of me...
I was floating....
Not only was Mom gonna be ok if not better then before she broke her wrist, but I had great news to tell her the moment she woke up....

I'm still worried about some of the other health scares going on with my family. One of my uncles had to go into the hospital for a routine outpatient procedure and they unknowingly nicked his artery, sending him home with internal bleeding. So within 24 hours he was back in the hospital, in the ER getting blood and prepped for serious surgery to repair the damage that was caused by such a "simple procedure".
Then there's my other uncle whose has this large tumor growing in his neck, behind his ear around his limp nodes and has to have it removed. But because he doesn't have insurance it took forever to find a good doctor and once we found a doctor we had to wait on a biopsy. Then because the biopsy came back inconclusive they wont do the surgery because they need to make sure what it is so they know how much to remove because of it's dangerous placement.
This is what I've been quietly dealing with underneath everything else because talking about it makes it seem more real, and that makes me start to panic. So this is all I will say on the matter of my uncles, until I know for sure if things are going to be ok....

Now it's all a waiting game as Mom begins her long healing process, we find out about my uncles, and I begin summer classes in June...

The Happiest and Saddest I've Ever Been...

I'm gonna talk about some stuff that is hard...not gonna get into many details because it isn't just my story to tell and because like any new wound, it's still raw and bleeding....

So the Ex wanted me back, and because I loved him we started talking again.
My inner voice kept telling me not to do it, things had been going so well for me and I was finally getting over him, but another voice entered my head, the voice of doubt.

What if my instinct to not get back with him was nothing but my fear?
What if I missed out on being happy because I was afraid to trust him again?
What if my issues with my father were keeping me from giving him the second chance he deserves?

I was full of what if's and what was supposed to be our last conversation, became the beginning of our renewed relationship when he said four little words "I love you too".
I knew if I didn't give it another shot I'd regret it, because I loved him and I believed he loved me. Granted right away he backed out of that "I love you too" repeatedly, saying he wasn't in love with me yet but was sure on his way. I would laugh but my inner voice shuddered with every denial. Yet love can make you delusional, and I lied to myself choosing to believe that he loved me, but was just too scared to own it.
Being with him again was bliss, but I couldn't shake my doubt of him. So I decided to take things slow. Slower even then the last time, to truly give me time to trust him again.

But I had one condition... if he hurt me the way he did when he left, if he made me feel like I was less then, like I was inadequate, and if being with him took me off my path, I would end it.

Well you can guess what happened, because we are no longer together.
I've come too far to have anyone make me feel like shit. To make me hate myself so much that I wanted to die and could barely function. To make me hate the world for filling his head with this desire of unattainable perfection and then making me so imperfect. To make me fall in love with a man who couldn't just love me for who I am now...because during this pain I also had to face the truth, that he really didn't love me, and probably never would, not truly anyway. Because when I love, I love with my whole heart, and I deserve the same in return...

Granted...he denies it now. Tried to tell me I was wrong, making excuses for his behavior based on something that had been dealt with, and when I told him I was leaving he even called me names.
But at the beginning, when I first confronted him, his lack of outright denial was as bold a confirmation as a thunder clap....

Don't know why this song seems to ring true right now...but it does, for both me and him....

Muse - Hoodoo

Surround Yourself with "Why Not's"

A lot has happened in the last few months... some great some heartbreaking....

I don't even know where to begin...but I wanted to share this clip that made me smile because it's so true...

Take those shots...even when you crash and burn, if your still alive, keep moving. Surround yourself with people who are gonna encourage you, not those negative people who are gonna hold you back or put you down. No one should make you feel like shit, because if your anything like me, you can do enough of that on your own.

So surround yourself with "Why Not's"....(8.22)

Just a Little Something I Wrote for 4/20...

This is something I wrote on 4/20 that people kept asking where I got it...
I told them it came out of my head, that I wrote it, and was repeatedly greeted with shock...
So I choose to see that as a compliment...lmao...and I post it here for you all to read...
Funnest part about this whole thing is that I haven't smoked in a couple of years...lol

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"God looked down upon the earth and wept,
for He saw his gift of humor and merriment being cast aside.
So He in his great wisdom took the seed of truth from up on high and planted it on earth. 
The seed grew into a mighty weed and God said "Partake of this weed through breath and fire for within liesthe gates to God's truth"
So each year we honor His gift and his great truth...
That life is a greatest joke every told and that He who lives on high is the one and only comedian...

Happy 4/20 Everyone!

(photo above by danishacook52 , Photobucket, and is directly linked)