Ramble

More work... I really should be doing my homework, but stress is killing my desire to do anything, even just think. Long vacation and I'm still exhausted... of course then I bought an event ticket and I'm going to have to stay up all weekend instead of getting the sleep I missed! I guess I'll just have to go to bed extra early the next night or two. I pass right out when I get there anyway.

Of course I still have yet to properly unpack, nothing new there, I really sorta suck at unpacking. If unpacking was left to me, whatever was packed would remain in the bag/box until it was needed! But I can be remarkably lazy.

I'm a terrible house cleaner, but I try to compensate for it by placing things in spots where they are convenient... trash can next to my chair, where I spend the most time... everything I use for makeup in a bag so I can empty it out and put it all back in... it's one of those things. If I know I'm going to be lazy... I take the steps to enable myself! haha.

Of course right now... so much coming up, so much to do... I'm terrified. I'm scared and worried to the point even the simplest things feel like too much. Sitting at work and I'm staring at an application with missing pieces... and I just... it seems like too much. That blank spot on the application feels like it's going to collapse on me, swallow me whole... where normally it's just another small irritant.

Of course then you have therapy... retail in this case. Getting sunburned I knew I needed something to help scrub the dead skin from me, and something to replace the moisture, and then these things were buy two get one free... so I got myself a body scrub!

Of course then I walk out of the store... and one of those Dead Sea places has set up... so I casually wander by... and the gal running it pulls me aside, and spreads this face stuff on my arm... well, she's explaining it's made with magnesium, and then asks me to guess how she's going to get it off... and if I get it right, I get a free one...

Well. It does look very powdery... so I guess... she's going to blow on it... and she says no... so there's a squirt bottle on the kiosk... so I say... spray me with water... she says... no...

Well at this point the game's no longer fun and I know I don't know. So I say... stare on it... of course she says no at that point and laughs. She pulls a magnet out of the cap, covers it with a paper towel and the stuff wipes off with the magnet...

So as she's doing this I realize my arms is starting to itch and irritate a little... so I ask her "So is this  good on sensitive skin?" and of course she says she's never gotten any complaints, even from people who say they're allergic to everything...

Now a lot of people *say* they're a allergic to everything... I just about am. I can't even use some of the free and clear brands of laundry detergent. So I tell her... it's kinda irritating me... and I could see where it was coming up red a bit on my arm.

She looked completely baffled... naturally, in my family, if a product is going to cause an issue, it's going to be with one of us. So she tried a different scrub on my other wrist... now this one I actually found impressive... but at $99 for the scrub and the moisturizer? I couldn't do it... at this point... she says... you know, I've met my quota... so I can let you have it for $49 each... and I'm like... welllll... okay. So now I have these to try.

And of course... I'm already in the mall... so why not go look in my favorite local plus sized store? Of course I manage to find 4 nice tops... and you know, they're buy one get one half off! So yeah... Makes me feel a little better for a bit.

Of course, then you have... well... the bills that come afterwards. Of course those make me nervous again... I can see how shopaholics happen... but not this girl. No more shopping until POST SURGERY!... two weeks... ugh.

Insert Title

I hate titling things. Thinking up a title for things is usually the hardest part of anything in my mind. Actually naming things in general is one of the more difficult things in my life, but you know, it has to be done. Naming pets can be terribly frustrating. Of course my Sophie was easy, she was Sophie before I even got her... thanks to childhood memories.

I'd pay money if I could find The Chipmunk Adventure on DVD, and I don't mean that new movie with all the computer graphics.

So to the left you see an image of Sophie from the Chipmunk Adventure. She was the bad guy's dog... belonging to the sister. Your typical spoiled purse dog. A cute innocent face with a slightly evil streak. Almost the perfect Yorkie. Yorkies are definitely sweet, loving, adorable pets, however they definitely have a mischievous streak a mile wide. I know a lot of people in this world tend to believe small dogs are nothing but stupid yappy furry footballs waiting to be punted... and I'll be honest, a good number of them are raised that way. But a good Yorkie is a sweet companion, a little clown in a fur coat that loves to make you laugh and make your life just that much more adorable. There are few things in this life that really make me feel better than to see those beautiful brown eyes staring up at me after a long day. No matter how annoyed I may be at the rest of the world, she can always make me laugh.

To the right you see a short animated gif from the movie... right before one of my favorite parts. Namely where the dog reaches out and pop's the fellow who's splashing her's floatation device and sends him flying across the pool in your typical cartoon style.

Of course this is nothing like my Sophie. My little one loves the water, she loves the snow, and I think she may even love the wind. Weather, water, cold do not bother her in the least bit. Which is funny in the middle of winter and you have a pair of much larger dogs who refuse to go out, while the tiny one stands in snow quite nearly taller than she is, hopping around like a tiny rabbit, wondering why they won't come out and play.

And then you have my little Sophie. It's an older picture of her, but I haven't gotten around to emptying my camera lately. She's a silly little thing, but honestly she's one of the best things in my life. Nothing in this world will love you like your dog will, for the fraction of the energy. She is one thing I can always count on, day in and day out, she'll be there for me, no matter how bad I may have been the day before, no matter how grumpy or how I stomped around, yelled, cried, or even took a little anger out by snapping a little more loudly than she deserved when she was playing too loud. You can always count on your dog.

Hopefully before too long I'll be able to add a little brother to her family, I'm hoping for a parti colored blond and white male... but we'll see. With luck the breeder my friend was talking to will contact me and let me know her female she's supposed to be breeding is pregnant and I'll have first pick of the puppies. I'm really pretty excited about that... the dream is to someday have a good breeding pair and sell puppies to other deserving owners every few years. Everyone who has the time, money and desire should be able to own one of these little darlings.

Thoughts

So, I'm sitting here thinking... but I'm not thinking. I can feel my mind move, but it's not really doing anything at the same time. It's one of those times I hate the most. I can feel something wanting to get out, but I don't know what. Stifled creativity. It wouldn't be so bad if I knew how it wanted to escape.

It's like having something caught in your throat. It's a feeling that sort of presses into the top of your head and around your temples. Your head wants to explode and cave in at the same time. You don't want to sit still, but you don't want to move.

Stuck and confused... mentally constipated. But where does it go? How do you get it out? Is it another symptom of depression? Is it just something that you're stuck with? How do make it stop?

It's really rather irritating. Supposedly this writing should help, but it's not what wants to get out, not at all. It could make you crazy if you let it. So what now? The words aren't flowing like they should, they're just sort of made up as things that come out, slowly and tortured. They don't flow, each has been purposely formed to come out in an attempt to stop this heavy feeling in my head.

The feeling of explosion, of too much creative power stuck, unable to go anywhere. Maybe it's not creativity, maybe *I* just feel stuck. Stuck in the same places as always. Overlooked, forgotten, unneeded. It's depressing isn't it?

Hph

So I should be asleep, but instead I'm awake. Why? Well, for one because I just finished an extremely annoying assignment.

Granted I do have to admit most of it was my own fault... if I'd done the smart thing and read the book sooner, I would have probably gotten this done faster, but as I never read books really anyway... this apparently was the way it had to be. Maybe I learned my lesson, probably not, but you know how that goes.

I don't hate my job, I really rather enjoy it most of the time. Sometimes I just... I don't know. Growing up is hard!

You'd think at 31 I'd be an adult, but really, I feel pretty constantly like a child. Pretty sure it's not because I live with my mother, but rather because I just never feel like I've really grown up. I'm still fumbling around like some kind of child. It's very frustrating.

Words

People are monumentally frustrating. No matter what you do they're in your way, they hurt you. No matter how much you love someone, no matter much they love you... they hurt you. And honestly the more you love someone, the more you hurt them, and the more they hurt you.

It drives you crazy, you want to help, you want to support, you want to GIVE, but it sucks when they won't take from you. No matter how hard you try you can't force someone to accept your help.

You can only take what you can, you can only hope what you can. Being alone sucks really bad. There are days you just want someone to hold you. I don't think I want a lot, but I probably do. I imagine I demand a lot of attention, I need a lot of comforting. But considering the life I've lead, can you really blame me?

My father was an egomaniacal, self serving, lying, abusive asshole. He could say "I love you" but you always got the feeling he didn't mean it. Especially when he'd then spend hours yelling at you for the stupidest thing. And then he would tell you not to cry. He'd ask you what you thought you did wrong, and you'd try to tell him, but he'd tell you you were wrong, then you'd try to tell him what you thought he wanted to hear, and you were still wrong. You couldn't be honest, but you couldn't lie, no matter what you said you were wrong, and if you tried to be quiet? You just got into more trouble. The result is more frustrating that anyone can imagine.

It eats away at you. You begin to believe you can't do anything right, and this then affects how you feel all males view you. I quite literally need constant reassurance from the males in my life. I really do try not to, but hearing it makes me feel better. Though you have the issue that at the same time I can't bring myself to believe them for very long. I don't know what I need to fix this, but it's something that needs to be fixed. No matter what happens, there's not a single man out there that can manage to deal with that need. I'm sure eventually they feel as though their words aren't enough.

I probably just need to seek some therapy.

It's not that I can't be alone. I'm actually very good at being alone. It's as soon as I'm required to rely on a man that things fall apart. Mom talks about being damaged, I'm sure this is part of the same thing. After having dealt with that for so long, is there really anyone out there who wants to put up with it? Probably not, and it's not fair for me to expect them to.

So what can I do? I don't know.

Love

So what does it really mean to love someone? I often wonder any more if the world really knows anything about that anymore. It's Mother's Day so this seems pretty appropriate to discuss.

If there's one thing my mother taught me, is that if you love someone, it's no matter what. There are no conditions to love... you don't love someone 'if they", or "because they", you love them because they are who they are. You accept their faults, you love, not despite them, but because of them.

This isn't the same as staying with an abusive partner, or enabling a drug addict.

As a matter of fact, you remove yourself from the abusive relationship and hope they find help or move on. You support the drug addict through rehab, to help them make their lives better. You help make the lives of the ones you love better, through whatever means you can.

The problem with this, is that it doesn't require the other person to reciprocate... and you often end up in the situation where you love someone, and they don't return it. You can end up giving more than you will ever receive back... at some point you can end up wanting, wishing... standing there with your heart in your hands, offering everything you have, everything you can give to make someone you love happy.

Being used hurts... being unable to give, being unable to help... feeling as though what you have isn't enough, hurts more. Not being able to help those you love, is the most painful thing ever.

There aren't many left in the world willing to love like that. Most people are too worried about what can be done for them, what they're going to get, about their own hearts. It's a scary world any more.

Everyone has problems, and everyone focuses on their own problems (I'm no less guilty of this than anyone else, when I'm hurt and worried I can be a royal selfish annoying mean witch with a capital B... something I'm working on, but trust me, any progress is slow and I still manage to hurt people far more often than I want to), but it is something we all need to work on... setting aside our own problems, understanding the needs of others, and trusting they'll come back and help you after they're better.


Love sucks, love is work, but generally it's worth it. All you need is love... if both sides are willing to give it and receive it.

Post one

Well, I've thought about blogging before... but I've never actually done it. I mean, after all do I really have thoughts worth typing out? Is anyone actually going to be interested? I don't know.

I know most people think like that... "is (insert whatever about person) good enough to actually share with everyone else?" Sad thing is we never know until we try. Trying, however, is the hard part.

Stream of consciousness typing probably seems easy, but you're never sure where it will go, and then are you sure you really want to share? Sharing one on one is hard enough for some people, but to share with everyone? It's a difficult thought. How much do you share, do you use the assumed anonymity of the internet to share more than you really would? Or do you keep with the same shallow front you put up on Facebook?

Granted, this often depends on if you really think someone will actually read it. With all the hundreds of thousands of millions of blogs out there, how likely is it someone will actually pause to read this single one? I imagine the number would be more than I would think (there are a lot of people with nothing better to do out there after all), but at the same time, no one of interest or value is likely to read this... or are they?

You can share it with all your friends... but how do you maintain the separation of it versus your thoughts? Is it easier to maintain the free flow of thoughts and emotions knowing your friends/those you know are not directly exposed to it, or do you put out there and hope whatever you say is received with an open mind and heart?

These are serious questions... and if I decide to post more, I may think about. For now, it's more an experiment...