I realized today.. that I've got to talk to him. I've got to sit him down and tell him how he made me feel, growing up. I've got to tell him what he missed when he wasnt there, and what he overlooked when he was. I've got to tell him the impact his words and actions had on me, and how they changed my life. He doesn't know who I am now.. but if I tell him about the past; the one he refuses to accept and the one I can't forget, maybe then we can be closer. Maybe he'll mature, maybe i'll move on. If I talk to him, maybe I'll no longer be burdened with the guilt of withholding the truth, with the continuous struggle of trying to explain my distance from him. Maybe he'll understand the effect of his decisions.. and become responsible for his deeds.
But who I should I talk to first; mum or dad? Mum deserves an explanation, too.. and probably needs it before he does. She was there while it happened, but never understood. I owe her an explanation. Dad was oblivious, and he needs one too - but she needs one first.
This is going to take so much courage. I'm already terrified just thinking about it. Especially the conversation with my mum. Don't think it'll be any easier either, the second time around with my dad.
On top of all that.. I want to tell Deborah everything. Like I did my two other closest friends. I want her to know where I've been and where I am now and where I want to go in the future. I want her to understand my struggles as a person in the past.. and recognize my triumphs as a person in the present. If I can talk to Phil about it when he's back from camp... get out again what I wanted to say.. maybe I can tell Deborah.. and then maybe I can tell my mum.. and then maybe I can tell my dad.
The emotional struggle thats going to come with all this is going to be really rough.. might be a total downer for a while.. but i have to do it, and i know i can. Not all right away all together, but in succession.. with small breaks in between. Like Phil said, I'll never be truly ready; but I can make a start.. a new beggining, by sharing my story, understanding it better myself and helping others to understand me through it.
I'm going to need a lot of hugs if I'm to do this.. lol
like a friggen LOT.
Hugs are my preferred demonstration of quiet reassurance; the best kind.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Dreams
I've been dreaming a lot again; more than usual.
but the dreams are always consistent.. in the same way they're inconsistent.
Every one seems so different, so radically bizarre
but they've all had some similar themes
themes that have been escaping me for the longest time
that I haven't been able to understand.
One day I stopped to think about them
About all the dreams I've ever had;
The ones I remember best.
I realized then that one theme that kept resurfacing
was running, hiding; escaping.
I was fleeing murderers. Fire in a burning building,
rabid dogs, people I knew or even things as ridiculous as giant, german-speaking swiffer wipes.
And I don't know a word of german or use swiffer products.
What I was running from is one thing
but how I got away was another.
The more I think about it, it all seems to be symbollic.
Hiding or turning invisible means I'm overlooked.
Grabbing onto something like a giant purple bird or a free-roaming birthday party balloon attached to a string seems symbollic of surfacing, overcoming..
but if I'm still leaving all the bad things down below
no matter how far down
its always going to be there
and never going to resolve itself
I'd just keep it down, as far as possible.. because the higher I'd be, the harder it'll be able to see that there's still something there that was never dealt with.
I know I've pieced a lot of it together; I get what some of them are saying, I know how they connect.. but I don't know the next step. I don't know what I'm supposed to do other than realize somethings not fixed. The things that have been pointed out to me are things that everyone could fix; things that always seem to be a work-in-progress and never an achievement.
I can't help but feel I'm missing something.. something huge and more significant. I feel like I'm putting pieces of a puzzle together.. Things seem to make sense as they fit in with other pieces, but the more I solve, the picture seems to become more distorted.. it's like slowly realizing, after spending so much time with one puzzle, that the completed picture can't be understood; it comes across as foreign, invasive and irrelevant at the same time.
Maybe I can only understand it in pieces, in succession. But if that's the case; why IS there a big picture? Why do I feel like they all lead in to something more? I never would have thought that there'd be something more important, more personal than what seemed like the everyday reminder.
Then again, maybe I'm blind to it for a reason.
I don't know. But I'm sure it'll come in time.
I've talked to the people I've tagged about this somewhat. You guys know what I mean when I talked about my dreams before hand.
But one last thing I wanted to mention to is that they're starting to change. The themes are still there, but they're not usually applied to me. They're applied to people I'm with in a dream. And now my roles have changed; now I have to be the perseverer, the heroine, the diplomat, the final solution, the leader of great things.
I can understand to a degree; but i get the feeling that its meant in a general way, not just for a temporary setting. For someone who shys away from the spotlight, its hard to understand.
This could all just be me, the overactive thinker with a relentless imagination
but I still can't shake the feeling, and thats what gets me.
but the dreams are always consistent.. in the same way they're inconsistent.
Every one seems so different, so radically bizarre
but they've all had some similar themes
themes that have been escaping me for the longest time
that I haven't been able to understand.
One day I stopped to think about them
About all the dreams I've ever had;
The ones I remember best.
I realized then that one theme that kept resurfacing
was running, hiding; escaping.
I was fleeing murderers. Fire in a burning building,
rabid dogs, people I knew or even things as ridiculous as giant, german-speaking swiffer wipes.
And I don't know a word of german or use swiffer products.
What I was running from is one thing
but how I got away was another.
The more I think about it, it all seems to be symbollic.
Hiding or turning invisible means I'm overlooked.
Grabbing onto something like a giant purple bird or a free-roaming birthday party balloon attached to a string seems symbollic of surfacing, overcoming..
but if I'm still leaving all the bad things down below
no matter how far down
its always going to be there
and never going to resolve itself
I'd just keep it down, as far as possible.. because the higher I'd be, the harder it'll be able to see that there's still something there that was never dealt with.
I know I've pieced a lot of it together; I get what some of them are saying, I know how they connect.. but I don't know the next step. I don't know what I'm supposed to do other than realize somethings not fixed. The things that have been pointed out to me are things that everyone could fix; things that always seem to be a work-in-progress and never an achievement.
I can't help but feel I'm missing something.. something huge and more significant. I feel like I'm putting pieces of a puzzle together.. Things seem to make sense as they fit in with other pieces, but the more I solve, the picture seems to become more distorted.. it's like slowly realizing, after spending so much time with one puzzle, that the completed picture can't be understood; it comes across as foreign, invasive and irrelevant at the same time.
Maybe I can only understand it in pieces, in succession. But if that's the case; why IS there a big picture? Why do I feel like they all lead in to something more? I never would have thought that there'd be something more important, more personal than what seemed like the everyday reminder.
Then again, maybe I'm blind to it for a reason.
I don't know. But I'm sure it'll come in time.
I've talked to the people I've tagged about this somewhat. You guys know what I mean when I talked about my dreams before hand.
But one last thing I wanted to mention to is that they're starting to change. The themes are still there, but they're not usually applied to me. They're applied to people I'm with in a dream. And now my roles have changed; now I have to be the perseverer, the heroine, the diplomat, the final solution, the leader of great things.
I can understand to a degree; but i get the feeling that its meant in a general way, not just for a temporary setting. For someone who shys away from the spotlight, its hard to understand.
This could all just be me, the overactive thinker with a relentless imagination
but I still can't shake the feeling, and thats what gets me.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Death and All His Friends
Coldplay has a new album out; "Viva la Vida or Death and All His Friends"
And it is some of the greatest music I've ever heard - most notably the song "Death and all of his friends". Their style is so much different in this album and I wondered why... its so 'other-worldly'... ambient... space-like... metaphysical. All thought words described it.
So i looked up the producer for kicks and it's Brian Eno. That explains it. I think Coldplay mixed with Brian Eno is one of the greatest blends I've ever heard. Do yourself a favour and listen to "Death and All His Friends" - if you like it... or like me, can't help but love it, then give the rest of the album a go. It's incredible original... all of it. Each and every song, the album artwork, the beat arrangement, shifts in melody. It's very different for Coldplay - but still branches from their roots. You will not be disappointed.
And it is some of the greatest music I've ever heard - most notably the song "Death and all of his friends". Their style is so much different in this album and I wondered why... its so 'other-worldly'... ambient... space-like... metaphysical. All thought words described it.
So i looked up the producer for kicks and it's Brian Eno. That explains it. I think Coldplay mixed with Brian Eno is one of the greatest blends I've ever heard. Do yourself a favour and listen to "Death and All His Friends" - if you like it... or like me, can't help but love it, then give the rest of the album a go. It's incredible original... all of it. Each and every song, the album artwork, the beat arrangement, shifts in melody. It's very different for Coldplay - but still branches from their roots. You will not be disappointed.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Thoughts
Do you ever just feel like.. writing something, but having so many small things in your head that seem like they'd be good subjects... but really they don't offer much and you end up feeling like you don't want to write anymore? I feel like that now.
The urge to write also goes away with the fact that I have so much work right now that needs to be done. It's stunting my creativity and I don't like it.
But four weeks, and I'm done. Three weeks of learning; one week of exams.
So far, this is what I have left to do in my courses:
Online History:
Module 13 review quiz (these take an hour)
Module 13 letter
Module 14 poster
Module 14 review quiz
Module 15 Essay
Module 15 review quiz
Module 16 Editorial
Module 16 review quiz
Module 17 Journal Entry
Module 18 ISU (Final project; essay or report)
Math:
Test
Culminating task
Religion:
Test on Buddhism
Culminating
Photography:
Careers assignment
Magazine
Culminating
!!!!
The urge to write also goes away with the fact that I have so much work right now that needs to be done. It's stunting my creativity and I don't like it.
But four weeks, and I'm done. Three weeks of learning; one week of exams.
So far, this is what I have left to do in my courses:
Online History:
Module 13 review quiz (these take an hour)
Module 13 letter
Module 14 poster
Module 14 review quiz
Module 15 Essay
Module 15 review quiz
Module 16 Editorial
Module 16 review quiz
Module 17 Journal Entry
Module 18 ISU (Final project; essay or report)
Math:
Test
Culminating task
Religion:
Test on Buddhism
Culminating
Photography:
Careers assignment
Magazine
Culminating
!!!!
Saturday, May 24, 2008
This Summer
Hotspots:
The Hotspot (irony!)
Browns Bay
Houses of friends
Bookstores
other stores
travelling
the cinema
backyard
what I want to do:
research Uni's... gotta get on that.
Try scriptwriting!
Try novel-writing! :o
Practice writing an article about a current event or a discovery, etc to see if I'm destined for journalism or need work.
Work and save up for a laptop, Nikon DLSR
Learn to play the guitar
Try try try try try to tan! lol; the greatest obstacle of the celtic race.
Shed some winter pounds
Try sewing + stiching and make my own tope bag :D
If i manage to make a top bag; try my hand at CLOTHING oooh.
Update flickr with all my art - try and get noticed
Garden with mum
Buy some wicked pretty shoes
Stock up on CDs I've been wanting since the money ran out.
Make some vids for Mme Cavanaugh for next year (Human trafficking, poverty, etc)
The Hotspot (irony!)
Browns Bay
Houses of friends
Bookstores
other stores
travelling
the cinema
backyard
what I want to do:
research Uni's... gotta get on that.
Try scriptwriting!
Try novel-writing! :o
Practice writing an article about a current event or a discovery, etc to see if I'm destined for journalism or need work.
Work and save up for a laptop, Nikon DLSR
Learn to play the guitar
Try try try try try to tan! lol; the greatest obstacle of the celtic race.
Shed some winter pounds
Try sewing + stiching and make my own tope bag :D
If i manage to make a top bag; try my hand at CLOTHING oooh.
Update flickr with all my art - try and get noticed
Garden with mum
Buy some wicked pretty shoes
Stock up on CDs I've been wanting since the money ran out.
Make some vids for Mme Cavanaugh for next year (Human trafficking, poverty, etc)
Saturday, May 17, 2008
It's All About Dogs!
Dogs I Like:
Bergers De Beauce
Bernese Mountain Dog
Blue Lacy Dog
Border Collie
CANAAN DOG
CAROLINA DOG
CHIEN DE L'ATLAS
COLLIES
DALMATION
DREVER (some)
ENGLISH SHEPHERD (SOO PRETTY)
ENTELBUCHER
Eskimo Dog (maybe even the mini)
FINNISH SPITZ (mebbe)
FLAT-COATED RETRIEVER
GOLDEN RETRIEVER
GERMAN SHEPHERD DOG (<33333)>GREAT DANE (<33333333333)>GREAT PYRENEES
GREATER SWISS MOUNTAIN DOG
HOVAWARTIceland Dog
RED IRISH SETTER
JACK RUSSELL TERRIER (probably the only terrier i like)
KARELIAN BEAR LAIKAS
KARELO-FINNISH LAIKA
LABRADOR RETRIEVER
LANDSEER
LAPINPOROKOIRA
LAPPHUNDS (especially the black ones!)
LUNDEHUND
MALTESE (only if their fur is kept shorter and they are PUPPIES lol)
MAREMMA SHEEPDOG (so cute and shaggy ^-^)
MUDI (omg they're so awesome)
NEWFOUNDLAND (The Big' ol Newfoundlander Dawg :D)
NOVA SCOTIA DUCK TOLLING RETRIEVER (SO CUTE)
OLD ENGLISH SHEEP DOG (Just this one: http://www.gotpetsonline.com/pictures-gallery/dog-pictures-breeders-puppies-rescue/old-english-sheepdog-pictures-breeders-puppies-rescue/pictures/old-english-sheepdog-0001.jpg !!!!!!!!!!!)
OWCZAREK PODHALANSKI
PATTERDALE TERRIER (he's okay)
POMERANIAN (SOME, liek this: http://puppydogweb.com/gallery/pomeranians/pomeranian_mclean.jpg)
PYRENEAN MASTIFF
SAARLOOSWOLFHOND
SAINT BERNARD
SAMOYEDS <3> SCHIPPERKE (http://www.yorkkc.com/images/Schipperke%20Puppy%20Small.jpg)
SCOTTISH TERRIER (Probably the best terrier ever..he's not even cute.. he just looks HILARIOUS. Like a short + long bearded scotsman)
SHETLAND SHEEPDOG
Shikoku
SIBERIAN HUSKY
SMALANDSSTOVARE
TAHLTAN BEAR DOG
TELOMIAN
TIBETAN MASTIFF
VASGOTASPETS ( Yeah they're small but kinda cute too)
WELSH CORGIS
WESTPHALIAN DACHSBRACKE
YUGOSLAVIAN HOUNDS
Dogs I want to exterminate (but not really, obv):
Bichon Frise
Bolognese Dog
BULL TERRIER
CAVALIER KING
CHARLES SPANIEL
CHINESE CRESTED
dandie dinmont terrier
ENGLISH TOY SPANIEL
JAPANESE CHIN
PEKINGESE
-Interjection- WHY ARE ALL THESE DOGS FROM CHINA OR JAPAN -Interjection-
LHASA APSO
MOSCOW LONGHAIRED TOY TERRIER (those tiny shaky dogs that always look like they've just been electrocuted)
POODLES (I fucking hate poodles)
PUG (ALL PUGS ARE UGLY, I DONT CARE WHAT YOU SAY - THEY HAVE NASAL PROBLEMS AND THEIR FACES ARE ALL SMASHED IN)
PULI (best breed for cornrows? honestly)
SHIH TZU (Yet another one from China)
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Garrett Hedlund, the holographic universe, and my new hair cut!!
PART 1: Garrett Hedlund
So I was watching Georgia Rule today (I so hope that's not how Lindsay Lohan is in real life) - and I noticed a cute guy in the movie. A really, really, really cute guy. Okay so usually I'm not one to fall for the "boyish good looks" bit, but I definitely did for this movie. Even though he has a boyish face - it's very mature. He has probably the best eyes I've ever seen on a guy, and the best smile too. And the hair? Pheww.
So anyways I looked up his name on IMDB.com (the internet movie database for those of you who didn't know what IMDB stood for) and his name is Garrett Hedlund. This sounded vaguely familar. I then checked to see what other movies he played in: Troy, Eragon, Four Brothers.
Me: "...I DO know that guy! I thought he was hot in every one of those movies..."
Astonished by my memory failure, I checked the pictures to see why I didn't recognize him as the same person in any two of those movies. In every movie he has a very different haircut, and it REALLY changed what he looked like... but every time, I still thought he was hot. Light hair, dark hair, long hair, NO hair.
So in conclusion:
1) I am most definitely a Garrett Hedlund fangirl now, I just can't help myself.
2) I might actually be a sucker for 'boyish good looks' after all
3) and I thought I only really liked dark haired guys... Pffftt!
PART 2: The Holographic Universe
So I'm reading this book right now called, you guessed it - The holographic universe - by Michael Talbot. I checked it out from the library along with The Elegant Universe by someone whose name escapes me. Anyways, I found them on amazon.ca one day and thought they might be thought provoking... and by no means do i enjoy math nor am I passionate about science; but I am continually dumbfounded by the mystery of the universe. I like this book because it explains the holographic model: the only model or hint of a 'theory' (this term is used loosely) that can explain the many things that modern science falls short of with it's present array of theories and laws. It's simply said, and each idea mentioned is, in the book, supported by study or reason. Large scientific words are used only when needed, and always explained before incorporated. In fact, for the visual learners, Talbot has even included diagrams and other helpful images to guide the reader through unknown territory. I've only just started the book; but Talbot has already addressed the plausibility of truth in the holographic model by drawing parallels with human vision and memory. I scanned through the latter half of the book to notice topics brought up such as dreams, hypnotism and near death experiences (or NDE's) - three things I've been incredibly interested in since the day they were introduced to me. I've already added a few books about these select topics to my Amazon.ca wishlist for future reading!
Anyways, I just want to note that it's an awesome book so far, and I'm fighting the urge to pick it up right now and spend the rest of the night reading it because I'm swimming in outstanding history homework; the kind that has yet to be completed.
...which brings me to my last note.
PART 3: My new haircut!
I got my hair cut! W00tage, finally. Okay so I took my bangs off the left side of my face and crossed them over my forehead to the right, because my forehead cries for bangs and they make my eyes pop more this way :D
And then for the rest of my hair I just got the usual: an inch off, re layered, special stuff put in.
I felt great when I got there though, because Heather my hairdresser said to me "I don't know what you're doing here! Your hair looks great - and I like it long like that."
and I laughed and thanked her and made note that i probably had a least a few dead ends that could be laid to rest (yeah it's lame, but that's how I roll). So she strapped me in with that big black shiny cloak thing and we got started :D
After the cut she sprayed the natural flow out of my hair with just about a whole can of hairspray, and with heather not only do you have to close your eyes when she sprays hair spray at you; you have to stop breathing or you'll die.
So i got home and loosened it up a bit, but left most of it in because my hair has to be re-trained to stay the way it looked then. I'll probably pick up some bobby-pins and clips tomorrow and just leave them in my hair all day (and I'll do it after school this week) in order to make the transition as smooth and fast as possible!
Anyways its SUPER CUTE and I like it; it even looks good up which my hair never does. Plus I can still see, which is a bonus haha ;).
IN CONCLUSION
So that's about it. Pointless, I know.. but I just had to write something happy, right? after 4977 depressing words, you'd think I was the typing dead! Thing is, I'm normally happy - just not a happy writer. It's like Dallas Green with his music. He's normally a happy guy - but the majority of his music is sad or thoughtful. Why? Because music, art and literature are mediums of human expression - and often the bitter emotions are the hardest to get rid of without pouring out your soul.
Et puis, il faut que je continue avec ma travaille. Je déteste les devoirs, plus que normale pendant la weekend...
so bai!
So I was watching Georgia Rule today (I so hope that's not how Lindsay Lohan is in real life) - and I noticed a cute guy in the movie. A really, really, really cute guy. Okay so usually I'm not one to fall for the "boyish good looks" bit, but I definitely did for this movie. Even though he has a boyish face - it's very mature. He has probably the best eyes I've ever seen on a guy, and the best smile too. And the hair? Pheww.
So anyways I looked up his name on IMDB.com (the internet movie database for those of you who didn't know what IMDB stood for) and his name is Garrett Hedlund. This sounded vaguely familar. I then checked to see what other movies he played in: Troy, Eragon, Four Brothers.
Me: "...I DO know that guy! I thought he was hot in every one of those movies..."
Astonished by my memory failure, I checked the pictures to see why I didn't recognize him as the same person in any two of those movies. In every movie he has a very different haircut, and it REALLY changed what he looked like... but every time, I still thought he was hot. Light hair, dark hair, long hair, NO hair.
So in conclusion:
1) I am most definitely a Garrett Hedlund fangirl now, I just can't help myself.
2) I might actually be a sucker for 'boyish good looks' after all
3) and I thought I only really liked dark haired guys... Pffftt!
PART 2: The Holographic Universe
So I'm reading this book right now called, you guessed it - The holographic universe - by Michael Talbot. I checked it out from the library along with The Elegant Universe by someone whose name escapes me. Anyways, I found them on amazon.ca one day and thought they might be thought provoking... and by no means do i enjoy math nor am I passionate about science; but I am continually dumbfounded by the mystery of the universe. I like this book because it explains the holographic model: the only model or hint of a 'theory' (this term is used loosely) that can explain the many things that modern science falls short of with it's present array of theories and laws. It's simply said, and each idea mentioned is, in the book, supported by study or reason. Large scientific words are used only when needed, and always explained before incorporated. In fact, for the visual learners, Talbot has even included diagrams and other helpful images to guide the reader through unknown territory. I've only just started the book; but Talbot has already addressed the plausibility of truth in the holographic model by drawing parallels with human vision and memory. I scanned through the latter half of the book to notice topics brought up such as dreams, hypnotism and near death experiences (or NDE's) - three things I've been incredibly interested in since the day they were introduced to me. I've already added a few books about these select topics to my Amazon.ca wishlist for future reading!
Anyways, I just want to note that it's an awesome book so far, and I'm fighting the urge to pick it up right now and spend the rest of the night reading it because I'm swimming in outstanding history homework; the kind that has yet to be completed.
...which brings me to my last note.
PART 3: My new haircut!
I got my hair cut! W00tage, finally. Okay so I took my bangs off the left side of my face and crossed them over my forehead to the right, because my forehead cries for bangs and they make my eyes pop more this way :D
And then for the rest of my hair I just got the usual: an inch off, re layered, special stuff put in.
I felt great when I got there though, because Heather my hairdresser said to me "I don't know what you're doing here! Your hair looks great - and I like it long like that."
and I laughed and thanked her and made note that i probably had a least a few dead ends that could be laid to rest (yeah it's lame, but that's how I roll). So she strapped me in with that big black shiny cloak thing and we got started :D
After the cut she sprayed the natural flow out of my hair with just about a whole can of hairspray, and with heather not only do you have to close your eyes when she sprays hair spray at you; you have to stop breathing or you'll die.
So i got home and loosened it up a bit, but left most of it in because my hair has to be re-trained to stay the way it looked then. I'll probably pick up some bobby-pins and clips tomorrow and just leave them in my hair all day (and I'll do it after school this week) in order to make the transition as smooth and fast as possible!
Anyways its SUPER CUTE and I like it; it even looks good up which my hair never does. Plus I can still see, which is a bonus haha ;).
IN CONCLUSION
So that's about it. Pointless, I know.. but I just had to write something happy, right? after 4977 depressing words, you'd think I was the typing dead! Thing is, I'm normally happy - just not a happy writer. It's like Dallas Green with his music. He's normally a happy guy - but the majority of his music is sad or thoughtful. Why? Because music, art and literature are mediums of human expression - and often the bitter emotions are the hardest to get rid of without pouring out your soul.
Et puis, il faut que je continue avec ma travaille. Je déteste les devoirs, plus que normale pendant la weekend...
so bai!
Friday, May 2, 2008
The Music Really Helps.
It's gray outside; inside this room.
It's cold. It's wet. I can feel it in my bones.
I have all the clothing on in the world
but I still feel like an ice cube.
But on this cold and rainy day
its not just my body that is freezing and aching.
Days like these, for whatever reason, stop my everyday madness
which is quite a comfortable madness
and make me think.
Thinking, for me, is a dangerous thing. I can't control what runs through my mind.
Sometimes I remember good things, sometimes i remember bad things, and sometimes I just spend an hour or two in my bed asking unanswerable questions... and trying to answer them as best I can.
But today, I'm thinking... and I'm thinking these thoughts are getting a little out of control. Or Maybe they're just trying to tell me something. I think I think too much. I think I deserve more from him. I think I'm abusing myself by thinking too much.
So how did I start thinking? I was in Religion class, in the computer lab working on an assignment quietly. Focus never comes easy to me, so I was pretty proud to be getting so much stuff done..
Then Becca comes over to use the computer beside me. We're talking and laughing (we don't usually) and things are going great. I miss being friends with Becca. We were really close when we were younger, and then things just changed. But I know that happens. And I accept that change is inevitable... but it's still nice to reconnect with those people from time to time. To know that you could still be friends; its just other things in life that have pulled you away.
We got talking about my dad, because she saw my mum at Loeb and then a few minutes later saw my dad and his 'new' girlfriend walking their dog Odis. Now for a while I'd been trying to ignore any mention of my dad as best I could. I didn't talk about what was going on his life anymore to anyone, because Im really not comfortable talking to even my closest of friends about whats really, REALLY bugging me. Little things like people being annoying or my bad luck streak I'll share with them, because it's light. But the other stuff? The heavy stuff that makes my eyes water regardless of how little and rarely I cry. That stuff I don't like sharing. Sometimes I need to, and I know I do.. so I talk about it, reluctantly.. but more and more I've been trying to convince myself that if I don't talk about it, don't talk to the person causing the problems, that it will just die down. It's stupid, I know - but its been working for a while.
And then it came back to bite me in the ass.
I got so caught up with talking to Becca that we got into it..and I started crying. And usually if I'm about to cry, I can really restrain myself if I put my mind to it. But today I couldn't. It took ever ounce of my being to tell myself to get my act together and smarten up. My eyes didn't stop tearing for a few minutes. I kept it quiet so only becca would know I was crying. She asked if I was okay, and that she felt bad. Two things I never want to hear when I'm crying. Am I okay? Please don't ask. Your concern will just make me cry harder. You feel guilty? Now I feel worse. Don't feel guilty. It's not your fault. The more she tried to console me, the worse it got.
Then all of the sudden, it was like a slide show or movie started playing in my head. Cliché, I know.. but its the best way I could describe it. I started thinking about a long, long time ago. Way before even my parents divorce. About our family life then. I pictured him on the couch downstairs, bathing in our misery and intensifying the atmosphere in the house ten fold. I remembered sitting in my room with the door locked, doing my homework by myself while my brother got the short end of the verbal stick just down the hall. I remember him somehow opening my door one day, coming in and telling me we were going to learn some real math. He took Sean's textbook and introduced long division and decimals to me long before I even knew what a multiple was. I remember crying while he yelled at me and called me stupid. I remember him yelling at me to get in the car and driving to the baseball field. There he'd throw baseball's at me until I learned how to hit; and every time I missed my confidence was shredded again and again.
I remember going home exhausted and hurt, physically, emotionally and mentally.
I remember standing up for my mum while he yelled at her. I remember being spanked outside. I remember being sent to my room for the entire day. I remembered driving home from Sean's hockey game, feeling totally miserable while he yelled the self-esteem out of my brother because the game was lost.
I remembered being scared to come home. I remember trying to convince myself to just run away, to go live somewhere else, to go live with a friend or relative. I remember discovering the harsh realization that I'd be returned 'home'. I remember the sound of the eggshells under my feet when I walked in the door. I remember dreading weekends, because he'd always have an outing plan - an outing that was a guaranteed disaster. I remember my mum crying when he left the house. I remember him following her from room to room, determined to make her renounce her words or admit she was wrong. I remember coaxing my mum into getting help. I remember telling her it isn't right. I remembered my friends who's parents were divorcing. I remember always hearing that divorce is sometimes what families needed.
I especially remembered the night I was at a friends house - I had finally made some new friends. It was never easy for me to make friends, because I could never see them, never bring them home, never felt worthy enough or connected to the kids. I remember my dad called, told me to stay there, that he was going to get into a cab and come pick me up because I wasn't allowed any longer to stay over. I remember being really upset, but being unable to say anything but "okay". I remember my mom showing up at the door only a few minutes later. I remember seeing her in the doorway, crying. I remember my friend's mom being suspicious, but welcoming. I remember being confused. I remember my mom telling me to be quick, and get in the car. I remember she said we couldn't go. I remember spending the night at the Royal Brock in our own city. I remember going to my grandmas for a few weeks. I remember him calling there everyday. I remember him trying to trick me into asking mom to let us go home. I remember sean being really quiet.
I remember things not getting better with a divorce. I remember growing up, feeling responsible for my mother's happiness, because I had convinced her to leave her husband and nothing was getting better. I remember my dad crying to me on the phone. Bombarding us at our house. Harrasing my mom at work. I remember having to lock him out of the house and shutting the blinds because he wouldn't leave. I remember crying inside while he pleaded with me to let him back in his house. I remember not hearing from him for a while. I remember feeling so responsible for him. For his sadness. I remembered trying to convince myself that he would be okay, that I needn't worry. I remember he moved back in with his parents. I remembered him losing a lot of weight. I remember him moving into an apartment. I remember him finding me at school, offering to drive me home, to take me out for ice cream - inviting me to discover what it was like to maybe have a real father. I remember having to say no, like he was a stranger.
I remember him saying he felt like killing himself one night, and that he almost did. I remember we got him a cat, to keep him company. I remember going to stay at his appartment. His colourless, unkept appartment. I remember feeding the cat, because he hadn't in days. I remember him having nothing in his fridge. I remember seeing a self help book on his coffeetable. I remember sleeping in the spare room. There was only a bed and a window. I remember having a bath in the same shower he said was where he thought of killing himself. I remember his cat ran away, I remember he moved out and in with his sister, and I remember him saying he wanted to kill himself there too.
I remembered feeling like a very, very horrible person. I remember losing all of my self-confidence and self worth. I remember feeling like anything I said or touched would turn to dust. I remember not talking to anyone. I remember being made fun of at school. I remember having no friends. I remember trying to hard to learn, but finding it more and more difficult. I remember getting nosebleeds, a lot. I remember getting sick, a lot. I remembered going to a new school and still having no friends. I remember not talking to anyone.
I remember deciding I owed it to everyone to be the nicest, most useful person ever. I remember helping everyone always, but never being helped in return. I remember the teacher telling me not to help so and so with her work. I remember asking why not? I remember being told I didn't need to. I remember being frustrated.
I remember seeing my dad every other week. I remember him telling me he'd met someone new. I remember him driving her car. Driving us around in her car. I remember not wanting to ever meet her. I remember hating hearing about her before I had ever met her. I remember thinking I was going to my grandparents, but instead going to meet her against my will. I remember hating her. I remember she looked just like my mom. I remember she smoked. I remember him saying she had a really hard life. I remember growing to hate him more and more. I remember I had worked so hard to make him happy; to make others happy so that he'd be proud of me. I remember always getting good marks. I remember never being praised for it. I remember wondering if my mom would ever find anyone. I remember not wanting her to. I remember changing my mind. I remember changing it many more times.
I remember trying to get used to sleeping in another new bed. I remember hating that feeling. I remember growing farther apart from my mother - the only person I ever felt close to. I remember my only friend at the time, Laura, moving away. I remember making a new friend, because she had no otherfriends either. I remember her telling me one day at school in thegirls washroom while crying that she had been raped that previous weekend. I remember not knowing what to say.. I remember not seeing her at sschool for a long, long time.
I remember not taking care of myself. I remember thinking about things. I remember trying to find ways I could evade problems, fix them. I remember trying to plan out how I would fix my life. I remember wandering around at recess, alone. I remember walking up to a group of girls and offering them my basketball. I remember trying to talk to them.. I remember the dirty looks and how they'd walk away. I remember feeling lower than the pavement. I remember crying outside behind the portable. I remember the dark poems i used to write. I remember feeling so numb one day, so disconnected... and so horribly painful the next. I remember walking home off the bus one day, and having a bag of cheetos thrown at my head. I remember brushing the powdered cheese out of my hair. I remember seeing it on my fingers. I remember looking up at the faces in the back of the bus, laughing. I remember running inside, throwing my bag on the floor of my room and crying into my sheets. I remember reading a lot. I remember the dragons and knights and goblins and magic stones. I remember feeling slightly better, but slightly worse. I remember listening to darker music. I remember discovering eyeliner. I remember one day.. hating my face. Wanting to cut it apart. I remember never wanted to take the bus again. Toever go to school. To just stop it all now. I remember being home alone. I remember trying not to cry after a horrible, horrible day. I remember losing control and throwing a plate against the wall. I remember how it shattered into a million pieces and fell back to my feet. I remember sitting on the kitchen floor, staring at a sharp piece. I remember picking it up.. feeling it in my hands. Cold and sharp. I remember taking it back to my room. I remember sitting on my bed. I remember putting it against my skin and pushing in. I remember the icy hot needle dragging across my skin. I remember feeling exhilarated and awake; no more numbness. I remember feeling scared but excited. Frantic but calm. I remember feeling pain but pleasure. I remember stopping... placing it on the main vein in my wrist. I remember thinking. I remember remembering the other girls that were nice to me once, in grade 5. I remember walking over to them, after not having really talked to them in a long while. I remember they welcomed me with open arms. I remember they made me laugh... after not having laughed in a long, long time. I remember they had invited me to their house, for a sleep over. I remember not being afraid, but genuinely being excited. I remembered how we got closer, and how they got to know me, and how they made me laugh every day that I saw them. I remember my moods changing when I got back home. The atmosphere chhanging. I remember all the things that happened behind the scene that still toyed with my mind and my heart. I remember wondering what dying would be like, I remember wanting to die. I remember not wanting to die. I remember wondering if death was heaven and hell or nothingness. I remember having so many questions, but no answers. I remember the immense guilt I felt for even considering it. I remember something tugging at me, from the inside. I remember now knowing what it was. I remember feeling it, like a very small hand, like a powerful word, like a radical thought; making you step back, just enough to re-evaluate.
I remember the flooding horror..then the flooding hope. I remember going into the bathroom, wrapping my wrists in a cold cloth and cleaning up the plate in the kitchen. I remember wearing wristbands to school for a while until the marks went away. I remember wanting someone to accidentally notice; i remember immediately not wanting them too, scared of what wouldhappen.
I remember them seeing it. I remember lying to them, convincingly. I remember how naive we all were. I remember how we grew up even more. I remember the self confidence growing again. I remembered taking care of myself again. I remember looking better, feeling better. I remember feeling more mature. I remember the sudden clarity of the world around me, like I had come out of an 8 year hypnosis. I remember smiling more and more. I remember striving to make everyone laugh. I remember the kids who used to make fun of me would laugh with me. I remember them genuinely smiling at me. I remember them teasing me, in a good way. I remember having more gratitude for the finite and infinite. I remember feeling closer to my friends, I remember feeling closer again to my mother. I remember feeling in touch with the environment, with strangers, with emotions.
I remember my life as a constant struggle between the extremes. The greatest of highs and the lowest of lows. I remember finding a balance between the highs and lows. I remember never caring for gossip or drama, but for being interested in the REALness of the world, and of people. I remember becoming more sociable, friendly. I remember always feeling a little self-confident, but never worthless. I remember still feeling responsible for my past.. but i remember slowly learning to let go.
I remember the recent things. I remember my dad breaking up with the lady who looked like my mother and smoked and lying to me about it. I remember how much it hurt, after I had become close to that person I took my time to discover was wonderful. I remember feeling hatred towards my dad for putting her through that. I remember HER losing weight.I remember HER not eating. I remember HER not coming out of her house. I remember him off with another woman. I remember learning that woman had horrible spending habits and was incredibly immature. I remember how she tanned, bought herself expensive things and toyed with my dad. I remember telling him to get his act together, that she was out to get him. I remember him falling madly in love with her. I remember her leaving him for a 70 year old man who was rich. I remember him being devastated. I remember for years of minimal conversation, he was calling me to whine more than ever. I remember talking to him to give him guidance. His 15, 16 year old daughter acting like the wiseman for a 40 something year old man. I remember telling him not to buy her things, but him doing it anyway. I remember him telling me he bought her an engagement ring. I remember losing brain function. I remember my mum telling me she watched him propose to her outside a gas station - yes a gas station. She was getting gas soshe could leave the city for a while. I remember my dad finally asking for a divorce from my mother after years of postponing. I remember the legal status was "seperated' but still legally wed. I remember feeling so lost with my father. I remember his girlfriend calling me a spy;hating me,thinking I told everything about how she was acting to my mother. I remember her getting back together with my dad. I remember him never talking to me again after that. I remember asking him why he hadnt called me. I remember himtelling me he was just really busy working, fixing up the house and settling his girlfriend in. I remember thinking he was full of shit. I remember wondering then, to myself, why is that you can't call me once when you're happy and busy, but will call me twice a day when you're alone and have nothing to do? Am ijust filling in the gap? Do you only need me when you have no one to talk to? No one to hug you? No one to keep you company or cheer you up? Am i your one-person pep squad? I remember being determined to never talk to him ever again. I remember starting to alienate myself from him; his girlfriend was taking over. I remember talking to his girlfriend's son. I remember him being really nice and unlike his mother; in a similar position with her like I am with my dad. I remember seeing him once again, stopping in at his house one day while at youth, and feelingvery awkward. I remember she never apologized to me. I remember he still did not call me after he saw me then. I remember starting to fight a lot with my mum. I remember her tone changing. I remember he becoming more sarcastic. I remember her letting sean walk all over her but giving me no rope. I remember feeling about her the same way I did my dad. I remember wanting OUT of my family so bad; like a person might want out of their school or a club or a burning building.I remember not being able to talk about any of this to my friends. I remember my mum saying very little to me, and the most she said to me was that my dad wanted me to look after his girlfriends dog for the weekend while they were gone. I remember telling her to tell him to ask me to my face. I remember her saying he offered to pay me. I remember thinking"Yeah because you have no one else to do it and because you know I'm mad at you, but you wont address me". I remember wanting to tell him to go fuck himself. I remember telling my mom that that was the first time since he got back to mal since he made ANY contact with me whatsoever. I remember thinking even at that, it was indirect. I remember today her showing me the key to his house and 20 dollars on her desk.I remember telling her I wasnt going to do it. I remember her getting all up in a fuss because i said no; without even asking why or trying to understand. I remember her daring to throw it back in my face and say "Fine, I'll do it and im keeping the money". I remember thinking that my mom lately has become not only an incredibly huge bitch, but also a money addict. I remember her being disappointed in me for not getting a job at winners. I remember reminding her that I was a temp and that i KNEW when they hired me that i would be let go, thats why they call ittemporary status. I remember thinking shes just disappointed because this means i still dont have my own money to buy things with. I remember noting to her that i never ask her for money for ANYTHING whereas sean milks her AND my dadfor all their worth. I remember telling her that i haveNOTHING in my wardrobe because i have no money and she refuses to clothe me. She'llfeed me, yes, but she wont buy her child any clothes. I remember noting that I dont buy expensive Hollister clothing like Sean and his stupid gay friends and I remember her getting all defensive and I remember telling her to not talk to me or she'd be very sorry.
and I remember today, being unable to control my tears in religion class. I was remembering my entire past and it was too much at once. I remember thinking I cant wait to be done with childhood... and I remember thinking that that, in itself, was probably the greatest tragedy of it all.
Now I feel used, neglected and angry. I am sick of acting like the adult while the adults around me act like temper-tantrum throwing four year olds. I remember promising myself that I'd never let myself or anyone I know get walked over. I remember promising myself that I'd talk to my dad one day about all this, and someday soon. That I would wait as long as I had to for him tocall and finally say he missed me, genuinely, before I would ever see him again. I remember making note of his girlfriend, and that she was trash and she deserved him. I remember noting that my mom is miserable because she's lonely. I remember always being there for her and always hugging her and telling her I loved her. I remember her feeling deep down like it just.. didnt fit the void. And I remember a bitterness growing inside her towards me, for whatever reasons. Maybe for reminding her of her age, or tieing her down, or becoming more withdrawn again.
I remember needing to just write. Get it all out. I remember needing to get that heavy black poison out of my chest before my lungs collapsed. I remember feeling happy again, that its raining. Feeling calm. Feeling sure. Feeling strong.
This is how I fix myself. Time and time again. I explain things to myself. I think them through, as long as it takes for my head to come out of its hole and stand sturdy. I try to act in the best sense, in the right sense, in a kind sense.I try to humble myself by not bottling, but problem solving myself, rather than complaining. Here i am confiding in something, which is what i need. Its meaningless because its on a webpage, but that doesnt matter. Ive saved someone else from this horrible long story, but at the same time I feel like I HAVE told someone. I've told the unknown and I've told myself. Im feeling better.Not happy yet, but content.. and I think now I'm going to go make a tea and turn up the music. Because the only other thing that ever really helps me heal, besides writing, which i do rarely, is music. I've had it on this entire time. Sad songs, rough songs, psychadelic songs.. low tempo songs. They've helped me focus, think through, relax and eliminate.
The music really helps.
It's cold. It's wet. I can feel it in my bones.
I have all the clothing on in the world
but I still feel like an ice cube.
But on this cold and rainy day
its not just my body that is freezing and aching.
Days like these, for whatever reason, stop my everyday madness
which is quite a comfortable madness
and make me think.
Thinking, for me, is a dangerous thing. I can't control what runs through my mind.
Sometimes I remember good things, sometimes i remember bad things, and sometimes I just spend an hour or two in my bed asking unanswerable questions... and trying to answer them as best I can.
But today, I'm thinking... and I'm thinking these thoughts are getting a little out of control. Or Maybe they're just trying to tell me something. I think I think too much. I think I deserve more from him. I think I'm abusing myself by thinking too much.
So how did I start thinking? I was in Religion class, in the computer lab working on an assignment quietly. Focus never comes easy to me, so I was pretty proud to be getting so much stuff done..
Then Becca comes over to use the computer beside me. We're talking and laughing (we don't usually) and things are going great. I miss being friends with Becca. We were really close when we were younger, and then things just changed. But I know that happens. And I accept that change is inevitable... but it's still nice to reconnect with those people from time to time. To know that you could still be friends; its just other things in life that have pulled you away.
We got talking about my dad, because she saw my mum at Loeb and then a few minutes later saw my dad and his 'new' girlfriend walking their dog Odis. Now for a while I'd been trying to ignore any mention of my dad as best I could. I didn't talk about what was going on his life anymore to anyone, because Im really not comfortable talking to even my closest of friends about whats really, REALLY bugging me. Little things like people being annoying or my bad luck streak I'll share with them, because it's light. But the other stuff? The heavy stuff that makes my eyes water regardless of how little and rarely I cry. That stuff I don't like sharing. Sometimes I need to, and I know I do.. so I talk about it, reluctantly.. but more and more I've been trying to convince myself that if I don't talk about it, don't talk to the person causing the problems, that it will just die down. It's stupid, I know - but its been working for a while.
And then it came back to bite me in the ass.
I got so caught up with talking to Becca that we got into it..and I started crying. And usually if I'm about to cry, I can really restrain myself if I put my mind to it. But today I couldn't. It took ever ounce of my being to tell myself to get my act together and smarten up. My eyes didn't stop tearing for a few minutes. I kept it quiet so only becca would know I was crying. She asked if I was okay, and that she felt bad. Two things I never want to hear when I'm crying. Am I okay? Please don't ask. Your concern will just make me cry harder. You feel guilty? Now I feel worse. Don't feel guilty. It's not your fault. The more she tried to console me, the worse it got.
Then all of the sudden, it was like a slide show or movie started playing in my head. Cliché, I know.. but its the best way I could describe it. I started thinking about a long, long time ago. Way before even my parents divorce. About our family life then. I pictured him on the couch downstairs, bathing in our misery and intensifying the atmosphere in the house ten fold. I remembered sitting in my room with the door locked, doing my homework by myself while my brother got the short end of the verbal stick just down the hall. I remember him somehow opening my door one day, coming in and telling me we were going to learn some real math. He took Sean's textbook and introduced long division and decimals to me long before I even knew what a multiple was. I remember crying while he yelled at me and called me stupid. I remember him yelling at me to get in the car and driving to the baseball field. There he'd throw baseball's at me until I learned how to hit; and every time I missed my confidence was shredded again and again.
I remember going home exhausted and hurt, physically, emotionally and mentally.
I remember standing up for my mum while he yelled at her. I remember being spanked outside. I remember being sent to my room for the entire day. I remembered driving home from Sean's hockey game, feeling totally miserable while he yelled the self-esteem out of my brother because the game was lost.
I remembered being scared to come home. I remember trying to convince myself to just run away, to go live somewhere else, to go live with a friend or relative. I remember discovering the harsh realization that I'd be returned 'home'. I remember the sound of the eggshells under my feet when I walked in the door. I remember dreading weekends, because he'd always have an outing plan - an outing that was a guaranteed disaster. I remember my mum crying when he left the house. I remember him following her from room to room, determined to make her renounce her words or admit she was wrong. I remember coaxing my mum into getting help. I remember telling her it isn't right. I remembered my friends who's parents were divorcing. I remember always hearing that divorce is sometimes what families needed.
I especially remembered the night I was at a friends house - I had finally made some new friends. It was never easy for me to make friends, because I could never see them, never bring them home, never felt worthy enough or connected to the kids. I remember my dad called, told me to stay there, that he was going to get into a cab and come pick me up because I wasn't allowed any longer to stay over. I remember being really upset, but being unable to say anything but "okay". I remember my mom showing up at the door only a few minutes later. I remember seeing her in the doorway, crying. I remember my friend's mom being suspicious, but welcoming. I remember being confused. I remember my mom telling me to be quick, and get in the car. I remember she said we couldn't go. I remember spending the night at the Royal Brock in our own city. I remember going to my grandmas for a few weeks. I remember him calling there everyday. I remember him trying to trick me into asking mom to let us go home. I remember sean being really quiet.
I remember things not getting better with a divorce. I remember growing up, feeling responsible for my mother's happiness, because I had convinced her to leave her husband and nothing was getting better. I remember my dad crying to me on the phone. Bombarding us at our house. Harrasing my mom at work. I remember having to lock him out of the house and shutting the blinds because he wouldn't leave. I remember crying inside while he pleaded with me to let him back in his house. I remember not hearing from him for a while. I remember feeling so responsible for him. For his sadness. I remembered trying to convince myself that he would be okay, that I needn't worry. I remember he moved back in with his parents. I remembered him losing a lot of weight. I remember him moving into an apartment. I remember him finding me at school, offering to drive me home, to take me out for ice cream - inviting me to discover what it was like to maybe have a real father. I remember having to say no, like he was a stranger.
I remember him saying he felt like killing himself one night, and that he almost did. I remember we got him a cat, to keep him company. I remember going to stay at his appartment. His colourless, unkept appartment. I remember feeding the cat, because he hadn't in days. I remember him having nothing in his fridge. I remember seeing a self help book on his coffeetable. I remember sleeping in the spare room. There was only a bed and a window. I remember having a bath in the same shower he said was where he thought of killing himself. I remember his cat ran away, I remember he moved out and in with his sister, and I remember him saying he wanted to kill himself there too.
I remembered feeling like a very, very horrible person. I remember losing all of my self-confidence and self worth. I remember feeling like anything I said or touched would turn to dust. I remember not talking to anyone. I remember being made fun of at school. I remember having no friends. I remember trying to hard to learn, but finding it more and more difficult. I remember getting nosebleeds, a lot. I remember getting sick, a lot. I remembered going to a new school and still having no friends. I remember not talking to anyone.
I remember deciding I owed it to everyone to be the nicest, most useful person ever. I remember helping everyone always, but never being helped in return. I remember the teacher telling me not to help so and so with her work. I remember asking why not? I remember being told I didn't need to. I remember being frustrated.
I remember seeing my dad every other week. I remember him telling me he'd met someone new. I remember him driving her car. Driving us around in her car. I remember not wanting to ever meet her. I remember hating hearing about her before I had ever met her. I remember thinking I was going to my grandparents, but instead going to meet her against my will. I remember hating her. I remember she looked just like my mom. I remember she smoked. I remember him saying she had a really hard life. I remember growing to hate him more and more. I remember I had worked so hard to make him happy; to make others happy so that he'd be proud of me. I remember always getting good marks. I remember never being praised for it. I remember wondering if my mom would ever find anyone. I remember not wanting her to. I remember changing my mind. I remember changing it many more times.
I remember trying to get used to sleeping in another new bed. I remember hating that feeling. I remember growing farther apart from my mother - the only person I ever felt close to. I remember my only friend at the time, Laura, moving away. I remember making a new friend, because she had no otherfriends either. I remember her telling me one day at school in thegirls washroom while crying that she had been raped that previous weekend. I remember not knowing what to say.. I remember not seeing her at sschool for a long, long time.
I remember not taking care of myself. I remember thinking about things. I remember trying to find ways I could evade problems, fix them. I remember trying to plan out how I would fix my life. I remember wandering around at recess, alone. I remember walking up to a group of girls and offering them my basketball. I remember trying to talk to them.. I remember the dirty looks and how they'd walk away. I remember feeling lower than the pavement. I remember crying outside behind the portable. I remember the dark poems i used to write. I remember feeling so numb one day, so disconnected... and so horribly painful the next. I remember walking home off the bus one day, and having a bag of cheetos thrown at my head. I remember brushing the powdered cheese out of my hair. I remember seeing it on my fingers. I remember looking up at the faces in the back of the bus, laughing. I remember running inside, throwing my bag on the floor of my room and crying into my sheets. I remember reading a lot. I remember the dragons and knights and goblins and magic stones. I remember feeling slightly better, but slightly worse. I remember listening to darker music. I remember discovering eyeliner. I remember one day.. hating my face. Wanting to cut it apart. I remember never wanted to take the bus again. Toever go to school. To just stop it all now. I remember being home alone. I remember trying not to cry after a horrible, horrible day. I remember losing control and throwing a plate against the wall. I remember how it shattered into a million pieces and fell back to my feet. I remember sitting on the kitchen floor, staring at a sharp piece. I remember picking it up.. feeling it in my hands. Cold and sharp. I remember taking it back to my room. I remember sitting on my bed. I remember putting it against my skin and pushing in. I remember the icy hot needle dragging across my skin. I remember feeling exhilarated and awake; no more numbness. I remember feeling scared but excited. Frantic but calm. I remember feeling pain but pleasure. I remember stopping... placing it on the main vein in my wrist. I remember thinking. I remember remembering the other girls that were nice to me once, in grade 5. I remember walking over to them, after not having really talked to them in a long while. I remember they welcomed me with open arms. I remember they made me laugh... after not having laughed in a long, long time. I remember they had invited me to their house, for a sleep over. I remember not being afraid, but genuinely being excited. I remembered how we got closer, and how they got to know me, and how they made me laugh every day that I saw them. I remember my moods changing when I got back home. The atmosphere chhanging. I remember all the things that happened behind the scene that still toyed with my mind and my heart. I remember wondering what dying would be like, I remember wanting to die. I remember not wanting to die. I remember wondering if death was heaven and hell or nothingness. I remember having so many questions, but no answers. I remember the immense guilt I felt for even considering it. I remember something tugging at me, from the inside. I remember now knowing what it was. I remember feeling it, like a very small hand, like a powerful word, like a radical thought; making you step back, just enough to re-evaluate.
I remember the flooding horror..then the flooding hope. I remember going into the bathroom, wrapping my wrists in a cold cloth and cleaning up the plate in the kitchen. I remember wearing wristbands to school for a while until the marks went away. I remember wanting someone to accidentally notice; i remember immediately not wanting them too, scared of what wouldhappen.
I remember them seeing it. I remember lying to them, convincingly. I remember how naive we all were. I remember how we grew up even more. I remember the self confidence growing again. I remembered taking care of myself again. I remember looking better, feeling better. I remember feeling more mature. I remember the sudden clarity of the world around me, like I had come out of an 8 year hypnosis. I remember smiling more and more. I remember striving to make everyone laugh. I remember the kids who used to make fun of me would laugh with me. I remember them genuinely smiling at me. I remember them teasing me, in a good way. I remember having more gratitude for the finite and infinite. I remember feeling closer to my friends, I remember feeling closer again to my mother. I remember feeling in touch with the environment, with strangers, with emotions.
I remember my life as a constant struggle between the extremes. The greatest of highs and the lowest of lows. I remember finding a balance between the highs and lows. I remember never caring for gossip or drama, but for being interested in the REALness of the world, and of people. I remember becoming more sociable, friendly. I remember always feeling a little self-confident, but never worthless. I remember still feeling responsible for my past.. but i remember slowly learning to let go.
I remember the recent things. I remember my dad breaking up with the lady who looked like my mother and smoked and lying to me about it. I remember how much it hurt, after I had become close to that person I took my time to discover was wonderful. I remember feeling hatred towards my dad for putting her through that. I remember HER losing weight.I remember HER not eating. I remember HER not coming out of her house. I remember him off with another woman. I remember learning that woman had horrible spending habits and was incredibly immature. I remember how she tanned, bought herself expensive things and toyed with my dad. I remember telling him to get his act together, that she was out to get him. I remember him falling madly in love with her. I remember her leaving him for a 70 year old man who was rich. I remember him being devastated. I remember for years of minimal conversation, he was calling me to whine more than ever. I remember talking to him to give him guidance. His 15, 16 year old daughter acting like the wiseman for a 40 something year old man. I remember telling him not to buy her things, but him doing it anyway. I remember him telling me he bought her an engagement ring. I remember losing brain function. I remember my mum telling me she watched him propose to her outside a gas station - yes a gas station. She was getting gas soshe could leave the city for a while. I remember my dad finally asking for a divorce from my mother after years of postponing. I remember the legal status was "seperated' but still legally wed. I remember feeling so lost with my father. I remember his girlfriend calling me a spy;hating me,thinking I told everything about how she was acting to my mother. I remember her getting back together with my dad. I remember him never talking to me again after that. I remember asking him why he hadnt called me. I remember himtelling me he was just really busy working, fixing up the house and settling his girlfriend in. I remember thinking he was full of shit. I remember wondering then, to myself, why is that you can't call me once when you're happy and busy, but will call me twice a day when you're alone and have nothing to do? Am ijust filling in the gap? Do you only need me when you have no one to talk to? No one to hug you? No one to keep you company or cheer you up? Am i your one-person pep squad? I remember being determined to never talk to him ever again. I remember starting to alienate myself from him; his girlfriend was taking over. I remember talking to his girlfriend's son. I remember him being really nice and unlike his mother; in a similar position with her like I am with my dad. I remember seeing him once again, stopping in at his house one day while at youth, and feelingvery awkward. I remember she never apologized to me. I remember he still did not call me after he saw me then. I remember starting to fight a lot with my mum. I remember her tone changing. I remember he becoming more sarcastic. I remember her letting sean walk all over her but giving me no rope. I remember feeling about her the same way I did my dad. I remember wanting OUT of my family so bad; like a person might want out of their school or a club or a burning building.I remember not being able to talk about any of this to my friends. I remember my mum saying very little to me, and the most she said to me was that my dad wanted me to look after his girlfriends dog for the weekend while they were gone. I remember telling her to tell him to ask me to my face. I remember her saying he offered to pay me. I remember thinking"Yeah because you have no one else to do it and because you know I'm mad at you, but you wont address me". I remember wanting to tell him to go fuck himself. I remember telling my mom that that was the first time since he got back to mal since he made ANY contact with me whatsoever. I remember thinking even at that, it was indirect. I remember today her showing me the key to his house and 20 dollars on her desk.I remember telling her I wasnt going to do it. I remember her getting all up in a fuss because i said no; without even asking why or trying to understand. I remember her daring to throw it back in my face and say "Fine, I'll do it and im keeping the money". I remember thinking that my mom lately has become not only an incredibly huge bitch, but also a money addict. I remember her being disappointed in me for not getting a job at winners. I remember reminding her that I was a temp and that i KNEW when they hired me that i would be let go, thats why they call ittemporary status. I remember thinking shes just disappointed because this means i still dont have my own money to buy things with. I remember noting to her that i never ask her for money for ANYTHING whereas sean milks her AND my dadfor all their worth. I remember telling her that i haveNOTHING in my wardrobe because i have no money and she refuses to clothe me. She'llfeed me, yes, but she wont buy her child any clothes. I remember noting that I dont buy expensive Hollister clothing like Sean and his stupid gay friends and I remember her getting all defensive and I remember telling her to not talk to me or she'd be very sorry.
and I remember today, being unable to control my tears in religion class. I was remembering my entire past and it was too much at once. I remember thinking I cant wait to be done with childhood... and I remember thinking that that, in itself, was probably the greatest tragedy of it all.
Now I feel used, neglected and angry. I am sick of acting like the adult while the adults around me act like temper-tantrum throwing four year olds. I remember promising myself that I'd never let myself or anyone I know get walked over. I remember promising myself that I'd talk to my dad one day about all this, and someday soon. That I would wait as long as I had to for him tocall and finally say he missed me, genuinely, before I would ever see him again. I remember making note of his girlfriend, and that she was trash and she deserved him. I remember noting that my mom is miserable because she's lonely. I remember always being there for her and always hugging her and telling her I loved her. I remember her feeling deep down like it just.. didnt fit the void. And I remember a bitterness growing inside her towards me, for whatever reasons. Maybe for reminding her of her age, or tieing her down, or becoming more withdrawn again.
I remember needing to just write. Get it all out. I remember needing to get that heavy black poison out of my chest before my lungs collapsed. I remember feeling happy again, that its raining. Feeling calm. Feeling sure. Feeling strong.
This is how I fix myself. Time and time again. I explain things to myself. I think them through, as long as it takes for my head to come out of its hole and stand sturdy. I try to act in the best sense, in the right sense, in a kind sense.I try to humble myself by not bottling, but problem solving myself, rather than complaining. Here i am confiding in something, which is what i need. Its meaningless because its on a webpage, but that doesnt matter. Ive saved someone else from this horrible long story, but at the same time I feel like I HAVE told someone. I've told the unknown and I've told myself. Im feeling better.Not happy yet, but content.. and I think now I'm going to go make a tea and turn up the music. Because the only other thing that ever really helps me heal, besides writing, which i do rarely, is music. I've had it on this entire time. Sad songs, rough songs, psychadelic songs.. low tempo songs. They've helped me focus, think through, relax and eliminate.
The music really helps.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
The people at Winners are a bunch of LOSERS.
In short:
At the job interview, the manager asked me preplanned questions and didn't even ask me about myself as a person or talk and get to know me.
I have previous work experience on my resume, but apparently it's not good enough for working in a "fast-paced environment". Fast paced my ASS; the two shifts I worked I was bored out of my mind because no one needed my help!
I also discovered they're only hiring people with "credible previous work experience".
This means two things:
a) It doesnt just matter that you have to be at least 16 years old anymore to get a job; you must already have worked. CAN ANYONE SEE THE GIANT GAP IN THIS.
b) Apparently my previous work experience as Office Administrator for a local company called EBJ just isn't 'credible'.
I also also discovered that a well known high school drug addicted dropout whose name escapes me GOT A JOB AS A CASHIER. The girl has a smokers cough, she TWITCHES ALL THE FUCKING TIME AND SHE CAN'T SPEAK ENGLISH.
WHAT
THE FUCK
IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE.
Moving on to Melissa _____. Melissa _____ used to go to school with me in grades 7 and 8. She's a nice girl, and she's cute, but she has the IQ of a retarded worm. There were four of us in the fitting room on thursday. Melissa and her friend Erika had previously been trained specifically to work in the fitting room. My friend Kayla and I hadn't; so we were quick-trained by another girl named Stacy before she went home.
Kayla and I took the more time consuming and stimulating tasks. This included buttoning up unbuttoned shirts, putting them back on the correctly-sized hanger on their specific rack facing a certain way. We tied up shirts and used the pager to have an associate come to the fitting room and take the clothes away.
What did melissa and erika do?
Melissa stood and greeted customers. She had to count how many clothes they had and give them the right tag with the right number on it.
Erika had to take the clothes the customers tried on and didnt want to keep with them back. She had to count them all. Take the tag back and put it back in the desk.
So what happens? They fuck everything up! Melissa loses the tags, hands out the wrong numbers, puts items that were supposed to be on the HOLDING rack (meaning if the customer was over their limit of clothing to try on, some would be left on the holding rack) onto the womens or mens racks that were REMOVED FROM THE FITTING ROOM.
Erika did basically the same thing. She also chucked all the clothes onto the table Kayla and I worked from.
Kayla and I also did the cleaning. We closed down the fitting room and went to work in other sections just after the store closed so everyone could go home just a little earlier.
Melissa and Erika talked the entire time.
Melissa and Erika were temps.
Now who got hired for part time jobs?
MELISSA AND ERIKA.
WHAT THE FUCKING HELL?!
I therefore conclude that I am better off not working with bimbos.I belong in a place where I am not just a number in a group of temporary workers - but where I am a face and a personality and an appreciated employee.
Fuck you, winners. You're all just a bunch of losers.
At the job interview, the manager asked me preplanned questions and didn't even ask me about myself as a person or talk and get to know me.
I have previous work experience on my resume, but apparently it's not good enough for working in a "fast-paced environment". Fast paced my ASS; the two shifts I worked I was bored out of my mind because no one needed my help!
I also discovered they're only hiring people with "credible previous work experience".
This means two things:
a) It doesnt just matter that you have to be at least 16 years old anymore to get a job; you must already have worked. CAN ANYONE SEE THE GIANT GAP IN THIS.
b) Apparently my previous work experience as Office Administrator for a local company called EBJ just isn't 'credible'.
I also also discovered that a well known high school drug addicted dropout whose name escapes me GOT A JOB AS A CASHIER. The girl has a smokers cough, she TWITCHES ALL THE FUCKING TIME AND SHE CAN'T SPEAK ENGLISH.
WHAT
THE FUCK
IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE.
Moving on to Melissa _____. Melissa _____ used to go to school with me in grades 7 and 8. She's a nice girl, and she's cute, but she has the IQ of a retarded worm. There were four of us in the fitting room on thursday. Melissa and her friend Erika had previously been trained specifically to work in the fitting room. My friend Kayla and I hadn't; so we were quick-trained by another girl named Stacy before she went home.
Kayla and I took the more time consuming and stimulating tasks. This included buttoning up unbuttoned shirts, putting them back on the correctly-sized hanger on their specific rack facing a certain way. We tied up shirts and used the pager to have an associate come to the fitting room and take the clothes away.
What did melissa and erika do?
Melissa stood and greeted customers. She had to count how many clothes they had and give them the right tag with the right number on it.
Erika had to take the clothes the customers tried on and didnt want to keep with them back. She had to count them all. Take the tag back and put it back in the desk.
So what happens? They fuck everything up! Melissa loses the tags, hands out the wrong numbers, puts items that were supposed to be on the HOLDING rack (meaning if the customer was over their limit of clothing to try on, some would be left on the holding rack) onto the womens or mens racks that were REMOVED FROM THE FITTING ROOM.
Erika did basically the same thing. She also chucked all the clothes onto the table Kayla and I worked from.
Kayla and I also did the cleaning. We closed down the fitting room and went to work in other sections just after the store closed so everyone could go home just a little earlier.
Melissa and Erika talked the entire time.
Melissa and Erika were temps.
Now who got hired for part time jobs?
MELISSA AND ERIKA.
WHAT THE FUCKING HELL?!
I therefore conclude that I am better off not working with bimbos.I belong in a place where I am not just a number in a group of temporary workers - but where I am a face and a personality and an appreciated employee.
Fuck you, winners. You're all just a bunch of losers.
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