I feel like that forgetful bear.
Feel bad because I forgot to post a birthday post to my dearest Carrie. Sorry Chica!. I did remember to call and wish her a Carrie Day. HAPPY CARRIE DAY, my dearest, sweetest, most lovingest CARRIE. I love you so much, my sister. I miss you all the way, where you are. I wish I could take you to sushi on your birthday. :-( Birthday present on its way shortly. So sorry for the delay. (yes, I suck...I openly admit in from of the internet world....lots of witnesses to my suckdom). Lots of love, hermana!
Also forgot my blog birthday....Didn't post last year on my first. I think I boycotted it because EVERYONE was doing it and I just wanted it to go quietly into the night. AND it did. Well, I was looking at my account and thought, "WOW!!! Has it really been that long since I've started this damn journal?!"
First started on AOL with THE DISEASE in October and then moved here a couple months later (because AOL sucks) with my first post TADA. I did have a small jaunt at diaryland but we won't discuss those two or three posts that are lost forever. My reasoning for journalling? Well, everyone was doing it. I keep a hard journal and thought, "hey, what the hell." I think the first person to really get me started was Murray at PlanetThoughful so if you don't like my stuff....blame him. He amazed me and I was jealous. Wanted to be (and still do) just like him. So, here I am two years later....and I still like doing it.
I'm not consistent. But I'm persistent. Has helped my writing. Little steps. Not saying I've made vast improvements and will become the next great novelist. Am only admitting more dedication to a gift that I feel is mine. And have to say that my journal is definitely my space. It's for me. I like when people visit. I love comments. But it's mine and am happy and content knowing it's just sitting here collecting dust if nothing else.
Almost time for me to pay for another year of this...a luxury I weigh and wonder if I can afford. I have very little money as we all know. And I go thru the process of deciding if this space is worth it. Eh....think so.
Tired. Body aches. Thursday began my sentence in purgatory: Harry Potter's midnight show. And since we know that Thanksgiving is just around the corner and beginning of the holidays and the busiest time in movie business, I will be disappearing quite a bit. Still around....brain just doesn't work. No smart. No form real sentences. Can't concentrate on much other than work and sleep.
Am much better emotionally. Rough couple of days but made it through. Patience and love. And a bit stern talking to at times. Cathartic time, this go round. mmmmmm.
Will post again...just as soon as I can put more than 'me tired' on this page.
Swallowing me. Not going to work today. Tried venturing to the store last night and nearly lost it. I am in the self abuse phase of my depression which usually consist of a couple of things: "I wanna be hit/hurt/harmed" mode and the ever popular "I'm already fat and ugly so let's eat everything in sight to make me fatter and even uglier while crying" trick.....yeah, that last one is always my favorite.
Everyone annoys me. I want to kick people in the face. Pleasant, hmmm? And honestly, I don't give a fuck what you think! If you don't want to know what evil Naomi thinks of you, don't call me. Seriously, don't try to console me. Don't try to make me better. I can only stomach one person right now. I am only allowing person to not annoy me....even my child is grating my last nerve so please....don't check on me. I love you all too much to be unkind without cause.
God, I laugh at how I would be with the customers today. HEEE HEEE! I think I would get fired. What is really bad is that I feel guilty because I'm going to call in (not scheduled to work until four); and because of that guilt, I'm almost tempted to risk it. This is the part of the illness I hate. Having to just take a day off because I hate people and because I feel like my soul has suddenly been swallowed by a black hole that is ever expanding and will eventually swallow my mind and body as well. "Yeah, Mr. Smith...um...I can't come in today because....well....um....because I feel like my soul has suddenly been swallowed by a black hole that is ever expanding and will eventually swallow my mind and body as wel. No? Not a good excuse. Well....um.....my mind is a raging pit of misfiring synapses and I feel that if one more forty something woman with her six bratty kids can't order their ten thousand items in less time that it takes to build a fucking house, then I'm jumping the fucking counter and beating her over the goddamned head with the Sour Gummi Worms that her socially challenged eight year old is screaming about......um....yeah."
Usually, I just say I have diarrhea.
I'm going back to bed.....after I have a potato.
Want to just run away. My eyes ache from crying. My soul hurts. I feel raw. I am in need of my feathers being smoothed again. Want to be covered and protected by hugs and kisses. Want to sleep. Want to forget who I am and what mistakes I make.
Wish I could be a better me. God, how I wish I could feel like I deserve the wondrous loves I've been given instead of waiting in fear of their retreats....or worse yet, mine.
sigh...How do you escape yourself without changing who you are? How do you become someone else without losing what makes you, you? How do you fall in love with the person that someone else is in love with?
It's hard to lay the arms down when you're not sure who the foes are. You think they're outside of yourself but at some point in your life, you've become the enemy. You pick up sharp instruments and stab yourself. A jab here. A poke there. A slice across the skin once or twice when noone is looking. You lie to yourself that it's defense against those others....those people outside of yourself who have repeatedly hurt you. Who have anonymously hurt you. Who will hurt you.
But one person knows all this shit. One person manages to know you better than you know yourself. You! You, who claims to know people inside out....and you're pretty damn accurate. You, who can fake and manipulate your way out of any situation. Create diversions of pure gold. Master of slight of hand. And yet, this one person knows it all. Someone you've always wanted. Someone to reach within you and say, "Fuck that! I'm not letting you get away with that shit!" Someone who loves you for all that you are worth and will fight any fucking person that intends you harm....including you. You're left speechless time and time again because you've nowhere to go that your someone can't go too. You want to fight. You want to try all your tricks. You want to put up your walls. You want to do what you've always done. But you can't because you're suddenly accountable to someone who is fighting for you.
I feel like I've cried for forty days. Don't want to do anything. No work. No mothering. No talking to anyone else.
I need my hair stroked.
Amazing how many colloquialisms involve air/breath/wind:
full of hot air
wind beneath my wings
breathing down my neck
...and how about this one...
Still gets me how my mother can take the wind out of my sails with one short sentence.
If you ever decide to smoke a big fat one and go see a movie, may I make a few suggestions for your Friday night movie viewing pleasure?
Working at the movies, you become familiar with the previews.It was only a matter of time before I used something from one of them as the title for a blog entry. And the theme for Rent seems fitting for my birthday entry.
This past year has changed dramatically. I don' t think any of the years in my life go by unnoticed so year thirty-two should have been no different.
First, to all the babies who decide to be born today. HAPPY BIRTHDAY! It's a great day to claim. Yes, the world isn't perfect. It has never been nor will it ever be. But thus is the seasoning of life. Go into the world and live your life dramatically. Earn your skinned knees. Nurse your crushed hearts. Become someone's unexpected hero. Grow up and dare yourself. Get into trouble. Make mistakes. Make them big BUT learn from them...BIG lessons from them. Live life like it has been meant to be lived....a gift. A gift to you and a gift to those who love you. The world is a glorious place! I am amazed by it every day. Even in my darkest hours I have been stunned at how nature seems to move effortlessly and knowingly through it all.
Second, to those in my life who love me. God, life is so much better because of you. My daughter, my love, my friends, my family. All of you....Thank you for your support and love and encouragement. Thank you for the opportunity to know each and every one of you. You've added to what it means to be me.
Now for the self-examination that comes EVERY year.....Since my last birthday, life has turned about for me. My jaw is on the floor with the amount of good change that I've gone through because I've never had this much at once and for such a sustained length of time....Admittedly, I'm a bit nervous but I'm working through that. Courage in the face of fear. And getting what you want in life is no easy task either. There is some getting used to it. Changing old habits. Rethinking how you approach ideas and the world. So, at thirty-three I am far from being the wise old sage. I still have quite a lot of growing up to do. I've a lot to learn about love. I'm in need of an ass-kicking frequently for bad Nae thinking. But I'm working on it. I'm actively changing (see, Angus...didn't use trying) my poor self-image. And I'm actually excited about planning for the future. I was always fearful to plan anything long term but now I'm easing up on that. Also learning that I am desired and worshipped and loved. WOW! That takes getting use to...it's uncomfortable at start. It's hard to hear at first but it's nice. Really nice to feel adored and wanted. Hmmmm, good things. Good way to end year thirty-two. Mmmmm, yeah.
So...Forward, Year Thirty-Three! I say. Forward!
Seasons of Love from Rent
525,000 moments so dear.
525,600 minutes - how do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee.
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.
In 525,600 minutes - how do you measure a year in the life?
How about love? How about love? How about love?
Measure in love.
Seasons of love.
525,000 journeys to plan.
how can you measure the life of a woman or man?
In truths that she learned,
or in times that he cried.
In bridges he burned,
Or the way that she died.
It’s time now to sing out, tho the story never ends
let's celebrate remember a year in the life of friends.
Remember the love!
Remember the love!
Remember the love!
Measure in love.
Seasons of love!
Seasons of love.
I was a chaperon for Emmaline's Girl Scout Troop yesterday at the Gulfarium in Fort Walton Beach. It was closed to the public for the entire day, which is always cool. Got some great shots from the little digital. I must say that there are some limitations to the ViviCam but I am pleasantly surprised at what turned out SPECTACULARLY well. Just a few here. By the way, that sea turtle was, by far my favorite thing. Places like this make me both sad and happy. More on that later. For now. Just enjoy the three photos. You can click on the thumbnails for a larger image.
Thoughts as I wait to take my child to school.....
Gus. Gus. AND more Angus.
Should I take the birthday present or the money from Mrs. Devine? Birthday present consist of a much needed and much wanted treadmill (being practical here). The equivalent amount in money will pay a portion of the debt sitting here on the desk.
Need to write a post on the beautiful birthday gift from Carrie (thank you, Care. Em loves her's also).
Need to write more NaNo. Although we are now four days into it, I only wrote for thirty minutes yesterday for the FIRST time. Eh! I'm such a procrastinator.
Sex. Lots of Sex....again....with the circular thinking...Gus.
Dishes need to be done.
Boy, a treadmill sounds great right about now. But a crisp walk around the neighborhood is just as easy....YEAH, but when I want to actually geta hankering (yes, hankering...I used hankering) to exercise, it's usually about the oddest, darkest time of day. sigh....although.
Eh, kid is ready to go. Off now.
As much as I love what my gender can accomplish. As proud as I am to be a woman. As fabulous as I think the female sex is....*exasperated sigh*....why, oh why? Why do we act like idiots with our boyfriends, spouses, significant others, partners, etc? Why?!
This happens time and time again. At least once a day, a couple will come into the theater to watch a movie. The guy will turn to his woman and ask his woman what she wants.
"Really. What do you want to drink?" he'll ask.
"I'm not really thirsty. I'll just have some of yours. Get whatever you want."
"Ok. I'll have a large Coke."
"Coke? You're getting a Coke? No, we'll have a [insert soda other than Coke here...usually diet]."
Getting the soda I ask, "Anything else?"
The male will turn to his date, "Are you sure you don't want anything?"
"No," she'll insist. "I'm not hungry."
He turns to me. "I'll have a Skittles."
"Skittles? You're getting Skittles? I want Cookie Dough."
He looks at me and says, "We'll have a cookie dough."
"Anything else?" I ask AGAIN. (Have you noticed the pattern in all of the Fresh Fish posts?) Now...This can continue until The Girl has ordered one of every thing on our menu or until the money has been exhausted. And throughout the $20-I'm-not-hungry-get-what-you-want food order, The Girl will insist, she is NOT hungry.
Helen Redding would be proud.
I am woman! Hear me Roar!
Automatic and deliberately my heart beats in unison with your animated spirit.
Thank you, Lillie