Scribbles and Jots

Realization.

2010-12-22T23:47:00.001-08:00

When it hits you, it hits you hard.

Today was an all-around, in-your-face suck fest. (I was half tempted to quote of one of my favorite children's books' titles.) One thing after another just kept slapping me in the face, like they do with gloves right before a duel in old movies. Work was demanding, and running off of only two hours of sleep made it even more so. This would have been the case even if it hadn't been for the fact about half of the crew was enjoying their day off. The truck was large, and all my body wanted to do was shut down and go to sleep.

Alongside fighting off the urge to collapse, I've been dealing with a great amount of weird quirks from my body as of late; the symptoms are almost flu-like, but it feels less like a virus and more like something is just... Off inside. I can't explain it. It's one of those situations where you just know something either isn't processing right or is slightly off-balance, but you can't be certain of what. Between being dizzy, dehydrated, and light-headed, I couldn't keep a thought in my head for longer than a minute without having to ask someone what it was I had been doing.

The rest of the day was a blur. In between work and waking up from a nap, I didn't do much else aside from trying to scrounge up some food that would stay in my system easily and attempting to find something to occupy my time with.

Comparatively, my day was fine when you set it next to the last two hours alone. What happened still has me at a loss. I'm not quite sure how to react. Everything that has been needing to be said for months now finally came out, and there's only a minuscule fragment of me that's pleased about it.

Upon stubbing his toe on my end table, Joe instantly got all in a huff, and I knew it was more than just, "You need to pick up your things." Something was on his mind, and it was upsetting him so much he wouldn't look at me, or even speak to me, and we had just, not a moment before, been completely happy (or at least, I was). I pleaded for him to tell me what was on his mind, and started crying when he said, "I don't want to talk about it; it will just make you more upset."

I guess you should know something about me before I go into detail about what happened next. I am, by nature, a very empathetic person. It's easy for me to tell when someone is upset, sometimes even before they realize it themselves. Because of this, the moment anything goes wrong, I instantly try to get an explanation as to what's going on, so I can fix things, or at least never mention or do whatever it was that upset them in the first place again. When someone dear to me either ignores me or says something like what he did, I panic. I am so eager to fix the problem, I will do anything, and when I can't get even one word through to them... I worry for the worst. I take it personally. I know I shouldn't, and goodness knows I've tried to change it, but I can't. It's too ingrained.

Eventually I got him to talk, noting that I couldn't even begin to feel even the slightest bit relieved until he told me what was on his mind. I said, "It bothers me more when you say nothing." It wasn't/isn't untrue.

I almost wish I hadn't gotten him to talk, because the moment he did, he tore limb from limb. Nothing wakes you up like realizing you have indeed become everything you set out not to be - everything your step-father always knew you would. Nearly every flaw I have was laid out in black and white. I had never before felt so exposed. To know that everything you hate about yourself is the same thing driving the one person who means most to you away... It hurts.

He went on to say how I have no apparent motivation toward anything in life. He told me my lack of doing anything in preparation for the future annoyed him. That that was the reason for all recent slew of insults (as if there is ever a reason). It was even stated that he felt like a father with a teenage daughter to look after: "You help pay bills and clean up a bit, but I'm still the one doing all the work." The worst was when he brought up the fact that I only have a job at Target because of him. HE KNOWS how hard I tried to find a place on my own, but nothing ever seemed to work out.

But I can't argue. What would I say? That the reason I've been holding off on doing so many things is because I wanted him to succeed first? He'd never believe it, not even for a second, and quite honestly, it makes no sense from anyone else's standpoint. We're supposed to want to do what is best for ourselves at this age, but because of my many issues, I feel as though he deserves to have a better life than I do. I want to see him succeed before I take a step out into uncertain waters as well. He wants someone he can reliably fall back on, should those same waters be too deep.

I don't know what to say or do, aside from throwing myself out there like a skipping stone, hoping not to splash to the bottom of the river. It's what he wants. So I've made a gigantic list of things I need to change about myself and my habits, and I intend to start checking them off tomorrow after work. There is so much to do, it's overwhelming. I want to ask for help, but I know the only way to gain independence is to do this on my own.

It's times like these I really wish I had a shoulder to cry on though, instead of just my laptop. I tried talking to my friend Mac, who probably knows me better than anyone else. It didn't help. I'm still not sure how he managed it, but by the end of our conversation, I was apologizing for upsetting him by venting. He gets mad at me for ever saying I'm less than amazing. It irks me. All I mean to say is I feel like a sponge, and that I wonder how I could be worth the effort Joe exerts, and Mac freaks out and says we won't be friends at all, that he'd end the friendship on the spot, if I ever said I wasn't worth it again. It really makes me reconsider telling him things, because it sends me a vibe that maybe... Maybe he doesn't want me to be with Joe, if you know where I'm going with this. I didn't want to hear it, so when he left for Taco Bell briefly, I just logged out of MSN. He isn't going to be the thing that is able to help me tonight.

Now, more than ever, I wish I had a best friend. A girl best friend. One that would just be there to say, "Hey, you'll be fine. Just stick to your list and let his comments go in one ear and out the other. Eventually, things will right themselves once again, you'll both be happy, and you'll look back to now and laugh at how ridiculous this whole thing is." Out of everything I lost after high school, having girls my age to talk to is the one thing I wish I could get back. But everyone I know is off making their lives better, with college or work, or even starting life anew in another town. And now, I'm expected to do the same, without any help or guidance? I feel as though I am to weak and weary for such a journey.

Only time will be able to unravel this mess. I can only cross my fingers, persevere, and pray that everything will indeed right itself.

Kalvin.

2010-12-14T16:49:00.000-08:00

Memories flood my mind as I wake from an afternoon nap. I am twelve, head held high, waiting for life to take me someplace greater than I've been. I watch the grass in the field behind your house sway with the wind as I wait in your yard.

It's one of those lazy summer days where the weather just calls us outdoors. We take turns poking fun at each other before racing downhill in our roller blades. You almost always win, because you're fearless. The thought of nicks and bruises has never deterred you from mustering all your might.

Eventually we tire and make our way to my front door, just to linger, talking about nothing in particular. We live off each other's energy. The night grows near, but neither of us wish to leave until our parents call us indoors. You are my escape from all that happened behind closed doors, the reason I find myself falling asleep with a smile. You and I are best friends.

Time has passed, and we are much older now. Family has pulled me far away from that house across the street, where we would spend hours doing nothing and everything. Years have flown by without a letter in the mail, describing your latest escapades, keeping me motivated in a new town. That innocence rushes back to me in these moments when I look back at my youth. In those times, I often wonder about the things that would have been had I stayed, and I hope that the years have played out as happily for you as they have for me. You deserve the best.

I miss you, my friend. I miss Fourth of July, playing on your old Gameboy until the sky grew too dark to see the screen. I miss watching your brother run frantically away from the smuggled fireworks, and your parents gathering all the evidence before the cops came by. I sometimes even miss the day of pink bellies.

To look back makes me laugh - how I would dream for something greater, not realizing that great place was right in front of me. The best days were those spent with you and the other neighbor kids, being as ridiculous as we wanted to be. I wish those days had lasted forever.

Let's travel back through time, and not let one moment slip away.

Troubled.

2010-12-09T15:30:00.000-08:00

He sits there, saying nothing. He has said little since meeting me at work to take me home. Something is on his mind, but silence is all I am given. I want to help, but I have no idea how to go about approaching him. If I say the wrong thing, I could make it worse.

So, I clean. Laundry, dishes, taking out the trash - anything I can do to fill the void growing inside me, I will do. Knowing that tidying can only be a benefit is what drives me to do so. Whenever I'm mad or stressed out or worried, I clean. By the time the day is over, I imagine there will be very little left in the apartment to organize.

As it stands, it's already driving me insane taking these brief few moments to sit down and type, but considering I have no one to talk to, this fills the other void.

I hate it. Whenever he gets like this, I freak out inside. I don't know how to help or what to do with myself. Worse, I'm not sure if I'm the reason he's angry, or if it's something else entirely that's on his mind. I want to scream or cry or take a really long walk, but I don't want to do any of those things alone. On top of it, I get the feeling that doing any of them would only alleviate the problem for a short while. I need a cure, not a treatment.

How do you go about making things right for someone when you don't even know what's bothering them? I wish I had the answer.

Rebirth.

2010-11-29T03:19:00.000-08:00

A nightmare:

My mother, sister and I were living in a small home in a rather quaint little town. Everything was so peaceful and serene. I spent several hours of the day lying about, taking in everything - the way the sunlight bounced off leaves, the smell of the flowers carried on the wind, the way our field danced with each gust. It was all so poetic and spiritually uplifting.

After work one day, I came home to find my mother wearing an expression that could only mean something had gone terribly wrong while I was away. Her eyes were swollen from crying. I immediately asked what had gone wrong. With shaky hands, she reached out to me, speaking through silent sobs. "Your sister. She... She's dead."

The words hit me like a ton of bricks. My sister, so full of life and laughter, gone? A million questions surged through my mind, and before I knew what was happening, my feet had carried me to her room.

I wish I hadn't seen her. If it hadn't been for her face, one might have easily assumed she was only sleeping. The covers were held high up by her face, as a child does to hide from the shadowy monsters that haunt them before slumber. Seeing that fear reflected in my sister's eyes floored me. My sister, whimsical and carefree, frozen by fear. It was too much to take in. I brushed her cheek, now pale and cold, and walked back out to the living room, unsure of what to do with myself.

Coroners officially pronounced her death as fear-induced heart failure. There were no signs of struggle, no signs of abuse, no underlying health issues that could have caused her heart to stop. To them, it was just another young life lost. To me, it was a puzzle. My sister had never feared a thing, and yet, that look on her face expressed nothing but.

That night was restless; I kept tossing, turning, and waking up with cold sweats from visions that tormented me. I saw my sister, smiling before me, running about through the field, curly hair bouncing as she frolicked farther and farther from the house. Then suddenly the sky grew dark. She stopped, turned back to look at me, and screamed. Just before I woke, I saw a blue-grey hand grip her shoulder.

Each time I'd fall back to sleep, the dream would play itself out again, and no matter how much I tried to warn her, my sister never heard me. The dreams were progressively getting longer and longer as the night crawled on. In dreams, my sister would scream and fall to the ground, and just before I woke for the last time, I saw someone. I couldn't see the face, and it was only for a second, but there was definitely someone there, standing over my sister, just staring at her. After that, I knew sleep was out of the question.

In the morning, I told my mother about what I had seen. Her shaky hands clenched her cup of coffee as I outlined every detail. When I had finished, she set the mug down and focused all her attention on me. Her eyes were still very tired, but just as intense as ever. She spoke softly, but with purpose. "I saw her too. Last night. But it was different." I listened intently as she recapped her dream down to every last detail.

---- POST UNFINISHED ----

Too Awake.

2010-11-26T01:59:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, I want to slap myself. Here it is, two o' clock, I have but half an hour before I need to get ready for an eight-hour cashiering shift (Black Friday, woo), and sleep is as far away as it has ever been. It makes me wonder what I could have done or said to have offended the Sandman in such a way that makes him wish to see me suffer so.

The last few nights have been relatively sleepless as well. Tossing and turning is quickly becoming a constant. I wake up at least five times every night for at least five minutes - if not longer - each time. This night is no exception; I've been up since about 12:45, and even if I could fall back to sleep, it wouldn't matter.

It just astounds me, really. I'm not stressed about a thing, I'm not sick or sore, and Joe's may very well be the most comfortable bed I've ever slept on. Even so, here I am, awake as ever.

But enough about my sleeplessness. Focusing on that alone will just continue to irritate me. Instead, perhaps I should talk about my Thanksgiving? As always, it was wonderful. Joe and I spent most of the day at his parents' house. Lizzy and Melissa (his sisters) were in town, which is always cause for celebration. Lizzy was her usual crazy self, sporting bright purple hair, short as I've ever seen it. (It was actually near the shade I was going for way back when my hair turned out pink.) Melissa, on the other hand, was calm and collected, and left her hair to curl naturally. I'd never seen it that way before, but I must say, she wears curls well.

Lizzy had to leave early, so there wasn't much time for chatting. She ended up taking a plane back to Seattle after having somehow confused her bus departure and arrival times. Goodness knows I love that girl like my own sisters, but I sometimes wish she was a bit more organized. This sort of thing happens all too frequently (ask me sometime about when we packed up her room for college).

----- POST UNFINISHED -----

Undefinable.

2010-11-22T23:02:00.000-08:00

I have been sitting on a page trying to find just the perfect way to phrase a status update, but every time I go to type out how I feel, the status gets longer and longer. You may feel differently, but I like mine to be short and to the point. (Un)fortunately, today's events have been all too satisfying to sum up into a simple sentence.

Work went as usual - lots of running about, little time for soothing sore muscles - for the first couple hours. Believe it or not, we were actually ahead of our goal time by nearly half an hour on soft lines before break. Of course, it was a large truck, so eventually the sheer volume of clothes and goods Flow Team had to stock caught up to us all. The boy and I ended up staying until about 10:30 (two-and-a-half hours longer than we were scheduled), and a couple of the store heads were still trying to talk us into cashiering afterwards. I milked my "sore shoulder" excuse as well as the "he's my ride" just to get out of that silly place.

On a side note, I can't wait until I have health insurance again. I really need to get that muscle looked at. I can't tell if I've got a knot or a pinched nerve; I've been told it could be either.

My boyfriend and I had a few hours to ourselves after work, with which we spent gaming and watching TV shows on Netflix, but I was growing bored of both. I went outside and took advantage of the first snowfall to try to occupy my time (yay pictures). It worked for about an hour, after which my nose and fingers were too frozen to carry on.

Thankfully, a co-worker of ours, Lee, called and was able to bring some excitement with him as he made plans to pop on over. He and the boy started nerding out instantly, which was all too amusing to me. There is honestly no greater joy for me than knowing Joe finally has a friend he can hang out with again. He won't admit it, but he has been needing this for a while.

Eventually, I got hungry, and seeing as how Joe had been drinking, we had a guest, and it was dark, I called my friend Mac to take a walk with me to the grocery store. My goodness, that was fun. I've never enjoyed trekking through piles of snow for two vegetables that much before, ever. (Then again, it was the first time I'd ever done that, but the point still stands.) I bought an organic zucchini and red bell pepper, and he bought himself and me a Starbucks coffee - my second of the day.

Upon arriving back to the apartment, I started cooking a self-created pasta recipe for Mac and myself. Mmmm. I had forgotten I could cook, but from now on, I do believe I will be doing more of it. I'll post a picture of the food at the bottom of this paragraph. All you really need to know is Riesling and white vinegar go together quite well. See?

Hours of gaming and watching nerdy shows followed. Lee left not even twenty minutes ago, and although I'm starting to grow tired, I'm surprised I've lasted this long - I'm four hours short of being up for a full day. Mac and Joe are talking about Shigeru Miyamoto as I sit here typing out today's events, realizing I skimmed over lots of it, but I'm not quite sure where to fit all the events in.

All in all, this has been one of the best days I've had in a long time. Wrapped in a case of nerdiness, shared with friends new and old, today was a great gift. It was a wonderful "present."

Okay, that was a really lame joke, I know... But I couldn't resist. It's been one of those days.

Take care. :]

PS* This video is just one of many that entertained us.

Hmm.

2010-11-12T17:13:00.000-08:00

So it seems I've been able to fix (nearly) everything about this blog layout to make it feel more like it's my own. Thank goodness. Don't get me wrong, the original template was nice, but I'm not a fan of in-your-face, girly-girl pink. At least, not enough of a fan to flood the backdrop of this site with the color.

That's about all I have to say. I know, short posts are pointless, but it didn't feel right to leave the previous post up top when the blog wasn't even pink anymore. Now, if I could just get rid of that ridiculous pink line separating this post and the one below it... I haven't found its hex code yet.

Onward! I'm off to fix the page links above, so you don't click on them and see this statement:
Something will go here eventually.
Because, well, I've got nothing better to do at the moment, and even though my boyfriend is home and I could technically bother him, he's busy playing Starcraft II with a co-worker. He needs some time to himself.

But, as I was saying. It's off to finish those links. Take care.

Dissatisfied.

2010-11-11T10:24:00.000-08:00

I'm still working on trying to get this blog looking like it is my own and not just one of the premade templates. So far, I have had no such luck. All I know for certain is that it can't stay obnoxiously pink forever!

So, I figured it was about time for another update. I haven't been up to much, aside from playing way too much WoW and working my butt off at Target. Honestly, I never expected to become so attached to something as ridiculous as World of Warcraft; however, now that I've hit the level cap, I've gone a little obsessive over trying to get better gear for my warlock.

In other words, I need other things to do. This morning, I have tried distracting myself by reworking old photos for my deviantArt account. (I'll post a link or thumbnail or whatever to the picture at the bottom of this entry.) Needless to say, that only worked for about an hour. Now I'm sitting on the bed like a bum, waiting for either my sister to wake up or my boyfriend to get home from work, wishing I had my acoustic guitar with me. I'm rather in the mood to work on my voice again. The biggest downside? I hate how it sounds now, and I can't stay in tune on my own all that well. I literally need to have some sort of background music to keep me in tune. Oh, how I wish I was blessed with natural talent.

Nevertheless, I have been busy belting out many tunes when no one is around to hear me. I want to get to a point where I am comfortable enough to sing around others again. I want to get to a point at which I like the sound of my voice. Maybe then it won't feel so awkward when I'm at home and someone walks downstairs while I'm strumming my guitar.

I know I'm ranting and rambling on about nothing. I have the tendency to do that. It's hard not to, though, when I have no one to talk to but you, dearest internet reader, whomever you may be. Life gets boring and being alone gets... Lonely, for lack of a better word. Besides, I'd choose telling a random person my life story in great detail over wasting an eternity on video games any day.

At some point, I'll start writing about things that actually matter to me (and possibly to you as well). Getting back in the habit of blogging often is difficult, but I will do it soon. Pinky promise.

A Proper Post.

2010-10-28T05:18:00.000-07:00

It has been quite some time since I have made use of this blog. Today feels like a great day to start.

As of right now, I'm feeling quite satisfied. I've successfully completed two photos for a friend, and am about to start working on a third. Nothing gives me quite as much joy as a camera and all the wonders that it holds. I will never fail to be fascinated with what they can do, or what they allow you to capture.

I plan on spending a great deal of time this autumn/winter studying up on ways to continue growing as a photographer. My Photoshop skills are, admittedly, sub-par compared to friends, and I've got endless bits of knowledge to gain on film photography, but that hasn't stopped me yet. If anything, it's what drives me to continue "working" in the subject. The endless possibilities astound me.

One day, when I can afford a nice DSLR, I will try out the one thing I've always wanted to attempt - low key photography. (In case you don't know what it is, it's when you take a picture of a person or object, and with the exposure and lights set properly, the background is completely black.) It seems like a great deal of fun. Not to mention, it'd be great practice for me, since I plan on getting into school and doing some sort of portrait photography.

I just can't see myself wasting film trying to perfect that style, though. It's so expensive anymore! Mom claims it's because they're trying to phase out 35mm film altogether, so everyone has to use digital cameras (and everyone seems to prefer them to film). I don't want to believe that for a second, even if it might be true. Call me crazy, but I swear, there's a certain quality that's lost when you take a picture with a digital camera over a film one. Black and white photography is most noticeable; the silvers just don't pop as much.

Alright. I'm sure you've had enough of my ranting on the subject for now, so I'll end this little post...

Here.