(Short) Story Time.

When I was growing up, the summers at my great-grandparents house were unforgettable. And tonight kind of feels like that.

For the dumbest reasons.

I remember swimming all day at my neighbors house, coming home to take a shower, making top ramen with my sister, and finally crawling under the blankets in broad daylight and watching a movie. I have central air to thank for a glorious end to every summer day.

There was something about eating hot noodles and crawling into cold sheets, while being aware of the 100+ degree heat of the California summer, that made me feel like a freaking princess. I can almost smell that feeling still. Cold air and clean sheets.

Even though those were rough years for most of the adults in my family, those are the years I am most grateful for.

Tonight feels like one of those nights. I am bundled up, deep in the couch. Except now I have my boyfriend, friends, a healthy relationship with both of my parents, although their distance from me gets hard.

 But if my own foot was on fire, I would calmly, and Cooley go draw a bubble bath to seize the flame.

I was so stressed out today, with a two-digit account balance, motivation lacking, on the verge of crying at my desk…again. But none of that matters at this moment. 

Note to self: enjoy today, enjoy this EXACT moment.

 It probably helps that today is Friday.

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Ranty pants. Just Let Me Be Dramatic.

Classical music, if timed just right, could either make you feel like a victim going down with the Titanic as the musical ensemble tries to calm you down, while you grasp for a piece of furniture. Perhaps a door that you could share with your lover (take a hint Rose). Or it could give you a rush of adrenaline pushing you to persevere through the sinking. Today, the calm, lethargy inducing music is having the latter effect on me.

I am stuck in my own thoughts again, and that is the only time I ever feel like blogging. Trust me, there are plenty of happy moments in my life, you just don’t hear about them.

I feel like I am drowning again, it pains me step-by-step to go to work every morning. I actually feel guilty because I know my boss is just doing me a favor at this point. I am on the charity payroll. There is nothing for me to do there, nor anyone to talk to. I get lost in YouTube videos until my eyes twitch. And when payday comes, it goes fast. Disappearing before I can even blink.

Consider this a rant. Consider it a diary entry.

But please do consider this, “Are you guys hiring?” 😜

Note to self: life is a roller coaster, I don’t do well with heights.

Side note: Did you know that Broadway is coming out with a hip hop version of the Nutcracker? You’re not alone, I threw up in my mouth a little, too.

Have you noticed that any news segment that airs that has to do with your community ALWAYS gets portrayed as a “good idea” “fun for the whole family” type of thing?

For example:

  • Having a 10K race, followed by a six-pack of beer. This really happened a couple months ago in Huntington Beach, California. It ended with the newscaster being thrown up on and shoved around a little.
  • As stated above, taking the classic and beloved ballet, The Nutcracker, and making it hip-hop. Why, god, WHY? Maybe I am out of touch, and slightly cynical. But maybe I am not alone with this one.
  • A couple months ago, they had a segment of their newscaster learning how to drive a city bus. That is what the entire segment was about. Learning to drive a bus. It was an absolute THRILL!

Human Garbage.

I can’t wrap my head around how badly I screwed up yesterday, mulling over the words on an endless loop. My brain is doing it on purpose whispering to me, “this is what you deserve, just listen to what you’ve said to the person you love the most. Revel in your pain. You deserve it.”

And that’s what I’ve been telling myself. I deserve this. This feeling of a fall that wont end in a crash or even a bruise. The only thing I have bruised is his feelings.

So I guess I’ll tell the story since nobody I know IN REAL LIFE will read this, and I really need to write it all out to try and forgive myself.

 

Yesterday When I was at work my significant other called and said, I found a pretty beat up ring on the ground today, what size do you wear?” Innocent enough, right? I told him and went about my day.

When I got home that evening he said, “babe, I have this weird thing on my back that has been bothering me all day, can you check it out?”

Always eager to be his nurse, I obliged.

I lifted up his shirt to see a ring, the ring I thought had come from the gutter, taped to his back. I peeled it off, giggled, and without even inspecting the ring, I said, “oh, this is just costume jewelry!”

To which he replied, “No its not, I thought it was sterling silver.”

And this is where it gets ugly, even hard for me to type.

I said, “I could probably bite this thing in half. This better not be how you decide to purpose to me.” Followed by some giggles.

This is when he started walking back inside our house. I was still confused, still thinking ALL OF IT was a gag.

I walked into our room, as he lay on our bed and asked why he was so upset. He said, “that was really mean of you. I really did buy that for you, I told you that story about finding it on the street so you wouldn’t catch onto me buying a gift for you.”

Ouch.

I felt my throat well up and all my insides sink into the lower half of my body. I was speechless at how heartless I must have looked. I ran to the bathroom and proceeded to cry in there for 45 minutes. I called my mom while hidden away next to the toilet. She was honest, which I appreciated. But honesty always hurts. She said I did screw up, and that I need to pour my heart out to him. So that’s what I did.

I did the walk of shame back to our room, with my eyes almost swollen shut by now, I told him how sorry I was and that I hope after all the years we’ve been together that he knows that I am not the materialistic brat that I completely acted like. I also told him I thought the whole thing was a joke right up until the moment he told me he had spent money on it.

Our night was quiet, cuddling was rigid. Our morning was equally as quiet. Last night for the first time in my life, I felt like hurting myself, or disappearing.

Shame on me for tarnishing the sacredness of “us”. Shame on me for making him feel like a fool.

I keep replaying how excited he must have been at the jewelry counter picking something out, smiling as he left the store. Smiling and laughing with anticipation as his uncle helped him tape the ring to his back. And I just shit all over it.

I fear he will never fully forgive me, I know I will never fully forgive myself.

I usually share my blog on my Facebook page. But I can’t share this one. This post was for me, to just lay it all on the line. Hoping that writing it all out will give me some kind of relief. I don’t know how I am going to make this up to him, and this makes me question if he’ll ever marry me now!

If you have read this far, thank you for listening.

I’m hoping this is my “one big fuck up of the century” because I never want to go through this feeling of hopelessness again.

 

Note to self: Everybody has at least one of these moments in their lives. I think.

For My Family.

My name is drawn into the once wet cement of three different houses.

That’s not something everyone can say, I guess.

The first house was my great-grandparents house. A house I never thought wouldn’t be in my life. As I get older, the nostalgia wears off a little more each year. But every once in a while a memory will flood my head like when a holiday rolled around, every single family member made their way in and out of that house. Or when my mom threatened to chain herself to the tree out front because the city wanted to tear down my great-grandpas tree. There was NEVER a dull moment. We were THOSE people on the block. And it was fucking rad.

I knew a lot of people growing up that were really embarrassed by their family’s. I was keen to showing mine off. I was SO proud that my sisters and all my cousins were my best friends. So cocky that I had aunts I could tell things that I didn’t want to tell my mom, the uncle who could make you laugh till you peed, the great-grandpa that was literally handsome until the day he died, and Grandma Judy who held everyone in like glue.

Now, we all struggle to see each other, even if we are only a couple miles apart. But like I said, as I get older I see that there is reason behind all this. People move, and have kids, and have jobs. This is what was supposed to happen, for the most part. And since it was the way that it was growing up, when we do get together, we have so many memories together that our conversations could be endless.

It has never been said out loud, but I feel our family motto has always been, “If you have the choice between laughing or crying, try laughing first. And pass me a beer.”

 

 

 

Side note: I bought a planner so I’m gonna try really hard to actually plan out my blogging! Because I know I suck at it!

Note to self: Sometimes distance means success.

 

Friday.

Tonight is the first time I have craved a cigarette in a long time. Probably because my friend left her pack on our table before she left, so I sniffed one of her butts and now I’m hitting my vape zoning out to emo music in the garage.

Tonight was one of those nights that made me appreciate how small my life is.

A card game, some alcohol, and friends underneath the starry lights I bought at Walmart for $5 a strand.

I have been so lazy about blogging, but I am slightly drunk and feeling poetic.

 That’s artistic, right?

I recently got in touch with someone from my past, and am realizing how loved I am. Simple as that. People like me, and I have made an impact on people, and I’m coming to terms with the weird feeling of that.

And now, as I type, I am surrounded by guys. In our garage, just like the (not so) good old days. With my love, and the rest of the crew.

Shooting the shit, realizing that these are some of my very best friends. Friends are made in the strangest ways. Sure we used to party till we puked, but the “us” feeling never left after we all slowed down. 

I miss this, but I don’t. I have kept my drinking to Fridays for the most part, and it’s really satisfying to be an adult about it instead of raging and feeling like death the next day. 

There are profound moments in sitting in a dingy garage with some of your favorite humans.

It’s late, and this will probably be the end of my ramble. 

Note to self: life is about the little moments.

The real beauty behind a holiday weekend.

I’m laying here at 10:30pm looking up at a piece of dust dancing on our ceiling that ive been meaning to cleam for a while.
But for now, I will just watch it dance. Ive become accumstom to watching it move around every night, either happy to be here, or waiting for me to move it.

Am I really talking about a piece of dust right now? Yes, because tomorrow, Monday, belongs to me and that is a fantastic feeling when you have to drag your feet to the same place every day. Yesterday I swam for 5 hours like a kid, today I saw some friends and we assisted them in the middle of a shitty situation, tomorrow maybe I will be a Netflix potato? (but I do really need to go grocery shopping!)

As you’ve seen in my previous posts, I have a tendancy of panicking. I have felt a serenity lately. A serenity of which can only be attributed to, shit, I really don’t know. I do know that as I get older I am more comfortable in my own skin. Also, this massively empowering feeling of humanity. I am human, I am woman. (I am cavewoman?)

When I say “humanity” what I mean is the ability to express oneself, and feel your heart beat in your chest. The ability to see a picture, a face, a story, or a fucking tree and laugh…or cry at it is a beautiful fucking thing.

Hopefully I’ll have some poetry soon…that well has been running a little dry lately.

Thanks for reading my nonsense.

Note to self: laugh instead of cry. Walk away with your middle finger held high instead of staying to argue. stay weird.

Yea…so…I write poetry, too.

I like to think of my poetry as this little emo kid who lives in between my ears that scratches at the inside of my forehead every time anything goes slightly wrong or unexpectedly. Because that is usually when I want to write poetry. The only time I remember writing slightly less-depressing poetry is when I was in a huge Bukowski phase. Because the word “fuck” has always made me smile.

Good news: I have not felt like running away for a while now.

Bad news: I just bit my tongue while aimlessly eating a PB&J.

I started this post because I had the beginning of a poem in my head, but it is completely gone now.  I hate that. Not even carrying around a notebook helps me write down little blips that are literally only in my brain for .35 seconds.

A couple times I have said them out loud in a whisper, my sacred words, so that my boyfriend over hears and sees me running to a notebook. I am wholly aware that my words really aren’t that important to the outside world, but I have looked back at my past writing before and it helps me realize that life does fluctuate from good to bad, bad to good, and back again.

This is a random, unplanned blog post, so be prepared for scattered thoughts.

 

I find myself with friends now. Like actual friends who don’t feel obligated to hang out with me just because we went to High School together. In fact, I hardly talk to anyone from High School. It’s funny how a few events, (like falling behind in the “how-to’s” of becoming an adult) can steer people away from you.

The past two Monday mornings I have not felt like jumping out of the bathroom window mid-shower and sprinting down the street naked and wet, looking for the next bus station. It’s the little things that you have to give yourself a pat on the back for.

Another random thought: I hope that best friend feeling between my boyfriend and I never goes away. His presence gives me so much confidence. I don’t feel like a little hairless rabbit that the universe sometimes makes me feel like.

I wonder if anyone is still reading this. Cause I’m barely writing it.

Boobs.

If you’re still reading this.

Boobs.

 

Note to self: Make yourself laugh, don’t take yourself so seriously. Because honestly, but were all going to die some day. So why go about it all with a stick up your butt.