A lot of stupid shit bugs me. The dumbest little things you can think of.
I don't like it when certain people get too far in my personal space.
I hate it when I ask you to repeat your first name, and you give me your first and last. (APPARENTLY you weren't listening.)
I think it all boils down to patience. Or lack of it, I guess. The people I love, I friggin' adore. I want to be around them all the time, they make me so happy that I would gladly lose sleep, money, whatever just to be around them. I get very frustrated when people don't feel the same way. But when you think about it, it's going to be difficult, impossible even, to feel the exact same way about a person as they feel about you.
It's just not going to happen. It's one of those things that just cannot be determined (No, I Love YOU more.)
Actually more of an insecurity, if you will, than an irritation. Meh, no. It's both.
Sometimes I have nowhere to go with all the shit I have to say. No one to lay all these incomplete thoughts on for fear they become more confused about things than I am.
To be more direct:
I wish I had more patience for the people that need it, more trust for those that deserve it, less time to spend on the assholes and the gumption to say exactly what I want.
(the thing that irks me most, is I really have all those tools ... I am just afraid of what will happen when I do.)
This post bugs me. I am not articulate at all today.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Clueless
Okay, so I got behind. I will just attach a picture each time I post. Today is a photo or me as a baby/child. I was pretty damn cute, so it's going to be hard to choose just one. :)
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| I am almost 3 yrs here, Justin probably about 6 months. |
Monday, January 24, 2011
“There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief.” ~Aeschylus
“There is no joy without hardship. If not for death, would we appreciate life? If not for hate, would we know the ultimate goal is love? … At these moments you can either hold on to negativity and look for blame, or you can choose to heal and keep on loving.”
Elisabeth Kubler-Ross
http://www.ekrfoundation.org/
I don't know how well, if at all, I am progessing through the 5 Stages of Grief. I don't know that I really even experienced the first ones. Although there is research indicating that they aren't necessarily followed in the order Kubler-Ross presented them. I can't really seem to get past the sad/depressed part.
I don't know if it has something to do with the fact that I don't really have anyone to talk to about it, or the weather, or what. It's been just a few days over a year and I still cry when I think about it too much. Some days are a lot harder than others. Seems so weird though because I had probably only seen her once in the year prior to her passing.
By now I should be able to accept it, right? By now I should be able to think about her and laugh. Yet still, when someone says her name, my ears start ringing, all other noises around me get fuzzy and I feel short of breath.
We were best friends for a very brief time in 9th grade. We were together CONSTANTLY. Pretty much the only time we weren't with each other was when we were in class or we were sleeping or, in my case, sleeping in class. And even then, our sleepovers were frequent. I think our mothers were just glad we were at home. I still have a photo of her from the first day I spoke to her. On the last day of 8th grade I saw her sitting by herself in a classroom while everyone else ran around and got yearbooks signed. I can't recall if I had her sign mine, I think I did. I was wearing my Cocoa Puffs t-shirt, which I still have.
I don't know that we really spent all that much time together that summer, that is when it all started though. Hanging out at my house while my mother was at work. Ben, Andy and Chris all lived in my neighborhood, so they were over often as well. Lisa was over when her parents didn't ask enough questions about what she was up to (haha). Steve and Justin were there every once in a while. It was one of the most entertaining times of my life. We tortured our little brothers but yelled at others who dared to do the same. We walked miles in freezing cold just to hang out with our friends. We played in the park. We stayed up late and talked about "the boys". We skipped school and hid from school officials under the fir trees. We danced like fools to bad music. We put vodka in our coffee, and what's worse . . . we drank it. We ate terrible Canadian candy bars. We loved our mothers but never listened to them. She was the best thing that could have happened to me at that point in my life. She jump started what has been, for me, a life-long learning process of enjoying the little things.
I don't know that anyone who has not actually experienced being a teenage girl will ever understand the heart and mind of one. Because in reality, Afton and I were quite different. She was studious, I was not. She was selfless, I was not. She thought ahead, I did not. She was athletic, I was not. She was laid back, I was more intense. We were similar in that our parents were seperated, we both had younger brothers and we just liked to laugh.
Our friendship was disrupted by my parents (understandably) moving me to my dad's house (85 miles away) to finish out high school. Our friendship dwindled as neither one of us had a driver's license or a car at the time. We hung out from time to time in college. But I am told by many people in our "group" in high school that I was pretty much the social director. My house was the meeting place, I pushed for everyone to get together. Apparently, when I moved, people just drifted apart. But we always remembered each other as 14 year old girls. And so when she began to grow up and start a family and I began to appreciate working hard and playing harder, we spent less time together, we talked less.
There was always an uncommon bond I felt with her. A very magnified sense of happiness I felt when I would run into her. But we didn't know each other anymore. We only knew the connection that we once had shared. Perhaps that is what is most upsetting to me. We never will have that chance of connecting again. We won't, in this lifetime, be able to trade stories about husbands and children, etc. We knew different lives.
Her laugh is what I remember best. It was so fun to make her laugh because it was contagious. That cackle could make you laugh on it's own. I will always remember her jumping on my mom's couch, her "snowboarding" on my mom's coffee table, chasing my little brother's friends around to give them hugs.
I distinctly remember one of the few times I was mad at her. It was right after I had moved, she wasn't writing me letters as often as I had hoped. I remember her saying to me,
"It hurts too much to think about you."
It didn't occur to me, until that moment, that you could love someone so much that thinking about them actually hurt. And I didn't actually understand it until she was gone. Even in her passing away, she taught me a lesson. To honor that lesson, I think of her often. I try to live more as she did by appreciating the small things, spending more time with family and (hopefully) being less selfish.
I hope to continue to learn from her. I want to be able to build and maintain more solid relationships with my friends and family. I want to be able to find at least one redeemable quality in every person I meet.
I want to be able to find peace.
Day 8: a picture of your favorite band/musician
Elisabeth Kubler-Ross
http://www.ekrfoundation.org/
I don't know how well, if at all, I am progessing through the 5 Stages of Grief. I don't know that I really even experienced the first ones. Although there is research indicating that they aren't necessarily followed in the order Kubler-Ross presented them. I can't really seem to get past the sad/depressed part.
I don't know if it has something to do with the fact that I don't really have anyone to talk to about it, or the weather, or what. It's been just a few days over a year and I still cry when I think about it too much. Some days are a lot harder than others. Seems so weird though because I had probably only seen her once in the year prior to her passing.
By now I should be able to accept it, right? By now I should be able to think about her and laugh. Yet still, when someone says her name, my ears start ringing, all other noises around me get fuzzy and I feel short of breath.
We were best friends for a very brief time in 9th grade. We were together CONSTANTLY. Pretty much the only time we weren't with each other was when we were in class or we were sleeping or, in my case, sleeping in class. And even then, our sleepovers were frequent. I think our mothers were just glad we were at home. I still have a photo of her from the first day I spoke to her. On the last day of 8th grade I saw her sitting by herself in a classroom while everyone else ran around and got yearbooks signed. I can't recall if I had her sign mine, I think I did. I was wearing my Cocoa Puffs t-shirt, which I still have.
I don't know that we really spent all that much time together that summer, that is when it all started though. Hanging out at my house while my mother was at work. Ben, Andy and Chris all lived in my neighborhood, so they were over often as well. Lisa was over when her parents didn't ask enough questions about what she was up to (haha). Steve and Justin were there every once in a while. It was one of the most entertaining times of my life. We tortured our little brothers but yelled at others who dared to do the same. We walked miles in freezing cold just to hang out with our friends. We played in the park. We stayed up late and talked about "the boys". We skipped school and hid from school officials under the fir trees. We danced like fools to bad music. We put vodka in our coffee, and what's worse . . . we drank it. We ate terrible Canadian candy bars. We loved our mothers but never listened to them. She was the best thing that could have happened to me at that point in my life. She jump started what has been, for me, a life-long learning process of enjoying the little things.
I don't know that anyone who has not actually experienced being a teenage girl will ever understand the heart and mind of one. Because in reality, Afton and I were quite different. She was studious, I was not. She was selfless, I was not. She thought ahead, I did not. She was athletic, I was not. She was laid back, I was more intense. We were similar in that our parents were seperated, we both had younger brothers and we just liked to laugh.
Our friendship was disrupted by my parents (understandably) moving me to my dad's house (85 miles away) to finish out high school. Our friendship dwindled as neither one of us had a driver's license or a car at the time. We hung out from time to time in college. But I am told by many people in our "group" in high school that I was pretty much the social director. My house was the meeting place, I pushed for everyone to get together. Apparently, when I moved, people just drifted apart. But we always remembered each other as 14 year old girls. And so when she began to grow up and start a family and I began to appreciate working hard and playing harder, we spent less time together, we talked less.
There was always an uncommon bond I felt with her. A very magnified sense of happiness I felt when I would run into her. But we didn't know each other anymore. We only knew the connection that we once had shared. Perhaps that is what is most upsetting to me. We never will have that chance of connecting again. We won't, in this lifetime, be able to trade stories about husbands and children, etc. We knew different lives.
Her laugh is what I remember best. It was so fun to make her laugh because it was contagious. That cackle could make you laugh on it's own. I will always remember her jumping on my mom's couch, her "snowboarding" on my mom's coffee table, chasing my little brother's friends around to give them hugs.
I distinctly remember one of the few times I was mad at her. It was right after I had moved, she wasn't writing me letters as often as I had hoped. I remember her saying to me,
"It hurts too much to think about you."
It didn't occur to me, until that moment, that you could love someone so much that thinking about them actually hurt. And I didn't actually understand it until she was gone. Even in her passing away, she taught me a lesson. To honor that lesson, I think of her often. I try to live more as she did by appreciating the small things, spending more time with family and (hopefully) being less selfish.
I hope to continue to learn from her. I want to be able to build and maintain more solid relationships with my friends and family. I want to be able to find at least one redeemable quality in every person I meet.
I want to be able to find peace.
Day 8: a picture of your favorite band/musician
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| Craig Minowa of Cloud Cult “There is no feeling, except the extremes of fear and grief, that does not find relief in music.” ~T.S. Eliot |
Saturday, January 22, 2011
I wish punctuation was not so important.
I actually get genuinely pissed off when other people are better than me at things. Better at derby (lucky bitches), better singers, better than I am at my job, better at hiding (or at least dealing with) their feelings . . . the list is never ending.
Today is just one of those days when I feel like a total nutcase. Or more accurately, am outwardly showing my nutcase-like characteristics.
What if I never get as good as I want to be at roller derby?! (Well you won't be if you keep worrying about it instead of FOCUSING at practice and learning from those that are willing to teach you.)
What if they don't like me?! (What if they do!?!?! You already have too many friends and too little time.)
What if I never have a baby? (This just sucks. But Justin's baby is cute enough for now.)
What if I never get any further ahead at work?! (Take a pill. No one really enjoys their job all the time. It's not like this is news.)
Thank you Mother Nature for making me a walking advertisement for Kleenex Tissues and Midol once a month.
This is getting ridiculous. I think some of it may be the weather. Cold really pisses me off from the get-go. Waking up freezing instantly irritates me. So it doesn't help that there is not a whole lot I can do to distract myself from, well, myself. Nothing to do outdoors that doesn't involve frostbite and 4 layers of clothing.
I have been going to the gym 4 times a week. That is kind of helping.
Ick, I am just bugging the shit out of myself, and likely the people around me. I am not sure what I can do to snap out of this though. I should start tanning or something. I need sunshine to grow, for Pete's sake!!
Day six: Someone you love
Day seven: Someone you miss
Today is just one of those days when I feel like a total nutcase. Or more accurately, am outwardly showing my nutcase-like characteristics.
What if I never get as good as I want to be at roller derby?! (Well you won't be if you keep worrying about it instead of FOCUSING at practice and learning from those that are willing to teach you.)
What if they don't like me?! (What if they do!?!?! You already have too many friends and too little time.)
What if I never have a baby? (This just sucks. But Justin's baby is cute enough for now.)
What if I never get any further ahead at work?! (Take a pill. No one really enjoys their job all the time. It's not like this is news.)
Thank you Mother Nature for making me a walking advertisement for Kleenex Tissues and Midol once a month.
This is getting ridiculous. I think some of it may be the weather. Cold really pisses me off from the get-go. Waking up freezing instantly irritates me. So it doesn't help that there is not a whole lot I can do to distract myself from, well, myself. Nothing to do outdoors that doesn't involve frostbite and 4 layers of clothing.
I have been going to the gym 4 times a week. That is kind of helping.
Ick, I am just bugging the shit out of myself, and likely the people around me. I am not sure what I can do to snap out of this though. I should start tanning or something. I need sunshine to grow, for Pete's sake!!
Day six: Someone you love
I think about you every day.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Day 3: Happiness is . . .
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| My brother makes me laugh. |
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| On my grandparent's farm. This is just before my grandma passed. |
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| Andrea and Derrick's wedding. Las Vegas 2008. Best vacation ever. Hands down. |
Monday, January 17, 2011
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Here goes nothing . . .
So here's the challenge:
Day one: a photo of yourself.
Day two: a photo of yourself at least a year ago.
Day three: a photo that makes you happy.
Day four: a photo of a place that makes you laugh.
Day five: a photo that makes you laugh.
Day six: a photo of someone you love.
Day seven: a photo of someone you miss.
Day eight: a photo of your favorite band/musician.
Day nine: a photo of yourself when you were a baby/child.
Day ten: a photo you like for any reason.
Day eleven: a photo of a night you loved.
Day twelve: a photo of when you were happy.
Day thirteen: a photo of one of your favorite movies.
Day fourteen: a photo of your best friend(s).
Day fifteen: a photo of your and a family member.
Day sixteen: a photo from your childhood.
Day seventeen: a photo from a trip you'll never forget.
Day eighteen: a photo of your town.
Day nineteen: a photo of last summer.
Day twenty: a photo of something you ate today.
Day twenty-one: a photo of somebody you find attractive.
Day twenty-two: a photo that you associate a good memory with.
Day twenty-three: a photo of something you want to do someday.
Day twenty-four: a photo of what you want to be when you grow up.
Day twenty-five: a photo that inspires you.
Day twenty-six: a photo of your favorite subject in school.
Day twenty-seven: a photo of something you are looking forward to.
Day twenty-eight: a photo of something/somebody that made your day.
Day twenty-nine: a photo of your favorite person from history.
Day thirty: a photo you find beautiful.
Day one: a photo of yourself.
Day two: a photo of yourself at least a year ago.
Day three: a photo that makes you happy.
Day four: a photo of a place that makes you laugh.
Day five: a photo that makes you laugh.
Day six: a photo of someone you love.
Day seven: a photo of someone you miss.
Day eight: a photo of your favorite band/musician.
Day nine: a photo of yourself when you were a baby/child.
Day ten: a photo you like for any reason.
Day eleven: a photo of a night you loved.
Day twelve: a photo of when you were happy.
Day thirteen: a photo of one of your favorite movies.
Day fourteen: a photo of your best friend(s).
Day fifteen: a photo of your and a family member.
Day sixteen: a photo from your childhood.
Day seventeen: a photo from a trip you'll never forget.
Day eighteen: a photo of your town.
Day nineteen: a photo of last summer.
Day twenty: a photo of something you ate today.
Day twenty-one: a photo of somebody you find attractive.
Day twenty-two: a photo that you associate a good memory with.
Day twenty-three: a photo of something you want to do someday.
Day twenty-four: a photo of what you want to be when you grow up.
Day twenty-five: a photo that inspires you.
Day twenty-six: a photo of your favorite subject in school.
Day twenty-seven: a photo of something you are looking forward to.
Day twenty-eight: a photo of something/somebody that made your day.
Day twenty-nine: a photo of your favorite person from history.
Day thirty: a photo you find beautiful.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Friday, January 14, 2011
Runnin' around, robbing banks . . .
Yesterday at work I bawled my eyes out in the managers office because I am terrified I will forget what your laugh sounded like. So I try to think of it as often as possible. Do you know how many times I think about your laugh in one day?! Do you know how much I think about our Winnipeg trip with your mom and your brother? You know, the one where she caught us smoking in the mall, and the pool area if I recall correctly.
Do you know how often I think of the time we were skipping class (you for the first time) and we just sat in the bathrooms at the sports arena because we really didn't have anywhere to go? I miss you with all my heart.
Do you know how often I remember that time you jumped into traffic on 4th street to get someone to jump my mom's old car so Derek could drive us around? I can still faintly hear you playing piano. It wrecks me.
You were truly one of the most amazing people I ever had the luck of meeting. I have not met many people since who were as selfless as you, as positive as you were. Such a small person with such a big heart. I try very hard to celebrate what you have brought to my life rather than mourning your loss.
It is a daily struggle.
I found all our notes from high school right after your funeral. One year later, and I still can't read them all. I find it difficult to put into words what a profound effect you have had on me. I don't know what words could possibly do your memory justice.
Every single time I see Andy drinking a Mt. Dew, I think of you. Every single time, without fail. We used to drink entire cases of that during sleepovers and drive my mother nuts. Although I suspect she was more irritated we smoked with the windows of my room wide open in the middle of the winter.
There is a little bit of you in everyday. I am thankful for that. I need you with me now, as I did then, even if it's only in my heart.
I love you.
Do you know how often I think of the time we were skipping class (you for the first time) and we just sat in the bathrooms at the sports arena because we really didn't have anywhere to go? I miss you with all my heart.
Do you know how often I remember that time you jumped into traffic on 4th street to get someone to jump my mom's old car so Derek could drive us around? I can still faintly hear you playing piano. It wrecks me.
You were truly one of the most amazing people I ever had the luck of meeting. I have not met many people since who were as selfless as you, as positive as you were. Such a small person with such a big heart. I try very hard to celebrate what you have brought to my life rather than mourning your loss.
It is a daily struggle.
I found all our notes from high school right after your funeral. One year later, and I still can't read them all. I find it difficult to put into words what a profound effect you have had on me. I don't know what words could possibly do your memory justice.
Every single time I see Andy drinking a Mt. Dew, I think of you. Every single time, without fail. We used to drink entire cases of that during sleepovers and drive my mother nuts. Although I suspect she was more irritated we smoked with the windows of my room wide open in the middle of the winter.
There is a little bit of you in everyday. I am thankful for that. I need you with me now, as I did then, even if it's only in my heart.
I love you.
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