There's not really anything to report, and yet my head feels so clouded like it hasn't been ventilated in a while. I'm hoping that if I just sit here and spout off some randomness then whatever I'm trying to get at will come out. Cause even I don't know where my head's at right now. Not that I ever do. I just bought Luke his Halloween costume today! Spiderman. It's only September 29th, and he'd decided he NEEDS to wear it. I figure, the kid's 2. He can wear whatever he wants for a little while longer. So as soon as we got home, we both stripped him down w/ equal excitement and dressed him in the Spiderman outfit. He looked god damned cute :) He was running around the house "webbing" everything. I love that kid. God, I love him. So Cole and I haven't been spending much time together lately. Pretty much we sleep in the same bed, and even then it's on opposite sides. That's about the extent of our contact. He brought it to my attention yesterday. But to be honest, I've been pretty okay. Which I know sounds bitch (that's why this is my place and not ours). I HATE staying in, he HATES going out. I'm pretty sure w/ those parameters, we're bound to be apart sometimes. Which I'm totally cool w/. It's healthy. I just wish he would have some friends so we can both get the benefit of alone time. I love going out by myself w/ my friends. It makes me feel like I'm less under him. Like I'm my own person. I love not having anyone to answer to. Not that I have to answer to him. But when we're both out, I have to be aware of him and he never has fun. He doesn't like doing the things I like to do. I love to be out and in the middle of a big crowd and craziness. When I'm out on my own, I feel free. I love that. But anyways. Guess I hit something. :)
Monday, September 29, 2008
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
I've Drawn Regret From the Truth of 1000 Lies
So. I've decided that this is my place to vent. To kick and scream like a 3 year old about anything and everything that has ever, will ever, or may ever piss me off. This is my little place where I can say whatever I want w/o worry that I will be judged, thought badly of, or held against me. In turn, w/o all these restrictions holding me back, I will be honest. I will, for the first time, be honest w/ my self and address all the things I've been to scared to acknowledge in my head for fear someone will hear me. Here goes:
I'd rather die pretty than live ugly.
How fucked up is that?? And it's not to say that if I were ever in a horrible, disfiguring accident that I would kill myself (my son is more important than my vanity), but that's my mentality. And it's nothing I've chosen for myself. It's something that I've allowed to evolve w/ me for so long unchecked that it eventually became part of me. People have always told me I was pretty (and see - here's one of those parts. I've never voiced this b/c I can just see the look on the therapist's chubby face that says "This spoiled little bitch is so stuck on herself". Live w/ that for a day). There are people who would call that a blessing. Not that I don't appreciate it, but it's a hard standard to live up to everyday. To walk into a room and people stare and you feel like there's a neon light on every one of your flaws, physical or otherwise. To hear people chalk up your hard earned achievements to "it's cause your cute". And for people to treat you like you're strong enough to take anything cause you're made of something unbreakable. It's like you're an object, completely devoid of feeling or reaction. You become numb to outside influences and scared to death of anything that threatens to break in. I can't stand the comments. "You must be used to this by now" or "They don't care what you say or not. You're pretty." I had a teacher in high school that, when I didn't know the answer to a question, told the whole class "It's a good thing she's pretty. At least she has that." I wanted to throw my desk on his face and jump on his lungs. I literally had to fight to keep composure the rest of that hour. It is incredible what constant scrutiny can do to your self esteem and self image. I'd rather go around w/ a bag over my head and be free to speak and act like I want than live trapped in my own outlook for the rest of my life.
I'd rather die pretty than live ugly.
How fucked up is that?? And it's not to say that if I were ever in a horrible, disfiguring accident that I would kill myself (my son is more important than my vanity), but that's my mentality. And it's nothing I've chosen for myself. It's something that I've allowed to evolve w/ me for so long unchecked that it eventually became part of me. People have always told me I was pretty (and see - here's one of those parts. I've never voiced this b/c I can just see the look on the therapist's chubby face that says "This spoiled little bitch is so stuck on herself". Live w/ that for a day). There are people who would call that a blessing. Not that I don't appreciate it, but it's a hard standard to live up to everyday. To walk into a room and people stare and you feel like there's a neon light on every one of your flaws, physical or otherwise. To hear people chalk up your hard earned achievements to "it's cause your cute". And for people to treat you like you're strong enough to take anything cause you're made of something unbreakable. It's like you're an object, completely devoid of feeling or reaction. You become numb to outside influences and scared to death of anything that threatens to break in. I can't stand the comments. "You must be used to this by now" or "They don't care what you say or not. You're pretty." I had a teacher in high school that, when I didn't know the answer to a question, told the whole class "It's a good thing she's pretty. At least she has that." I wanted to throw my desk on his face and jump on his lungs. I literally had to fight to keep composure the rest of that hour. It is incredible what constant scrutiny can do to your self esteem and self image. I'd rather go around w/ a bag over my head and be free to speak and act like I want than live trapped in my own outlook for the rest of my life.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Starting From the Middle
I'm not sure.
I think that should be my life's motto. I'm always lost. Whatever. I decided I'm going to write a book again. I've tried this before, but I was like 16, so I'm sure it was full of 16 year old mind crap and shallow and random. Which is pretty much the premise of my new book, but with maturity. We'll see.
I'm starting off on that foot at work again. You know - the wrong one. Getting chummy w/ the people that spell trouble and thinking about it long after I've gone home. Watch out - steep ledge ahead. I think I just need to get out more. Which requires money which requires me to work more. What a bitch of a catch-22. Oh effing well. I can't win.
I'm starting to get a taste of this apathy I despise so much. And damn it, it suites me. It's so much easier not to care than get caught up in caring to much. But it's like a poison and too much can wreak havoc on your mindset and thought process. I'll start looking for an antidote.
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