The time between...
I titled this blog that for several reasons, the first being of course the time after Christmas has passed and before the New Year is upon us. Its the time between an outpouring of love and family and joy, and a fresh start. Both are wonderful, both are needed, both are equal. The time between.
Christmas was yesterday for me, some people have many days of Christmas with large families and many big family dinners. I've had that before, thanks to foster care, one year I had as many as eleven Christmas's all contained from the 19th of December to the 27th, and yes, there were a few days of more then one 'party'. It was a bit insane. I have to say I liked this year, the simple relaxing one, being home with my own family. Of having a home even for a short while. It gave me a chance to reflect back on the past eight months of living here, of getting use to living with family, with people that actually weren't going anywhere, whether I was sweet or angry. It's been interesting, and full of road bumps, little things here and there. I have grown so much in that time, I like to think, more comfortable in my own skin, even if its not to the degree some people have.
I am grateful for my time here, I will cherish the memories, but it too was a time between the rough first year of college and truly becoming a grown up who could take care of myself. I can handle my own money now, I plan my life without really talking to anyone else about it, at least not family wise, I always talk to Master. But it was a good time between.
The big time between I'm focused on right now is the time between Christmas and the time I go to Master, the afternoon of the 28th, and then to our anniversary, one year on New Years. I can hardly believe that we made it so far, and in just a few more months we'll be living together! This spring semester is a time between as well, I'm going back to California to have some time to focus on school and on being myself around people my own age, to make sure that I'm ready to move in with Master but I truly can't wait. My life is moving forward, things are falling into place and that makes me believe they are meant to be. Lets hope I'm right.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Thursday, December 3, 2009
'Tis the Season
'Tis the season for so many things, and oh lord am I feeling it.
Like finals, what a joy those are. And I'm not being sarcastic, actually, I'm enjoying my final projects. I must be a masochist huh? But its the truth, I love finals, I love the final push, the end deadline, when everything will be done and neatly in its place, this period to show all I have learned. Like my painting final, I have attacked that in delight, choosing to do a high key painting, enjoying it thoroughly, though I need to work on it again, I didn't do much of anything productive today outside of fret myself, nearly cry and watch a lot of Bones. Anyway, finals, yes, painting, going well. Term paper, yes there is a term paper, and I want to do it. I'm so odd, sometimes I even wonder at myself, but its for art history and I have my subject matter picked out and plans for all of it, I'm so excited to write it, especially after the NaNo.
And there is the fact that this time next week my Josie will be with me <3 And then a week later I turn twenty and Master comes. I'll be twenty when he gets off the plan, seeing how I'm born at 4:07 in the morning. Funny, considering I've never been much of a morning person.
Its the season for love and family and just rejoicing, and this year, I rejoice and love, I am so grateful for all that I have in my life. Still, can't believe I'm turning twenty!
Like finals, what a joy those are. And I'm not being sarcastic, actually, I'm enjoying my final projects. I must be a masochist huh? But its the truth, I love finals, I love the final push, the end deadline, when everything will be done and neatly in its place, this period to show all I have learned. Like my painting final, I have attacked that in delight, choosing to do a high key painting, enjoying it thoroughly, though I need to work on it again, I didn't do much of anything productive today outside of fret myself, nearly cry and watch a lot of Bones. Anyway, finals, yes, painting, going well. Term paper, yes there is a term paper, and I want to do it. I'm so odd, sometimes I even wonder at myself, but its for art history and I have my subject matter picked out and plans for all of it, I'm so excited to write it, especially after the NaNo.
And there is the fact that this time next week my Josie will be with me <3 And then a week later I turn twenty and Master comes. I'll be twenty when he gets off the plan, seeing how I'm born at 4:07 in the morning. Funny, considering I've never been much of a morning person.
Its the season for love and family and just rejoicing, and this year, I rejoice and love, I am so grateful for all that I have in my life. Still, can't believe I'm turning twenty!
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Love and Need
I always mean to write more, to let myself out more, but its hard, now there is just so many things to do in the day, and not near enough time. I did the Nano, wow that was crazy, but I did it and I loved it, it certainly ate up any fraction of free time I had around school and time with Master and running my website. And of course my friends.
I'm so blessed, with my friends. I really am.
Like with my best friend, Josie, she's just a heaven send, even after this insane semester on both our parts we are so close, and still can make each other laugh. I trust her, I adore her, she understands me in a way I don't think any other girl ever has, she knows what I lived through, she's had her own rough patches. And we've been there for each other through them, I know she's a big reason why Master and I stayed together in the first few months, she kept me sane. Sadly we haven't had as much time this fall for each other, but I get to see her soon, for my birthday she's flying in next week and spending ten days with me. I feel so extremely lucky, I love my Josie, she's the best girl friend I could ask for, and she gets along so well with my Master. She's not in the lifestyle, not a sub or a Dom, but she's kink aware and she accepts us as we are.
And then there is Shaine, oh wow, she's a surprise, so sweet, so loving, all about looking out for me and I try to do the same. We just click, and she gets along with Josie too, which makes me happy. It feels like my circle of friends, of love, is growing outward steadily, strong links that understand and care for each other along with me. I'm going to spend the spring with Shaine actually, I'm a little nervous, yet at the same time so excited, to be back in California, to see old friends, and new ones. Its also sort of a last 'college' experience thing before I move in with Master in May.
And then there are the men in my life, not just Master, though he comes first.
But there's others, like my Knight, he's so wonderful, truly. He lets me come to him about anything, ramble and vent, he soothes me and makes me feel better, I'm his rose, delicate but strong, sweet. Some days we don't talk about anything important, others we talk about a lot of them, but always he is there for me as a friend, a dear close one who I can trust and relax around. I am so grateful to have him in my life, though I fear I am just as greedy with him as I am with the rest of my close friends, in that I turn to him too often, that I don't shield my thoughts enough. But others encourage me to open myself up, my Knight says he likes being there for me, so I guess I shouldn't take that away from him. Master dislikes it when I hold back from him, and I don't wish to make either unhappy.
And yet, I still don't feel worthy of all this, all this love and understanding and affection. I use to long for just one person to love me, just one. And now I have all these different sorts of love, all these friends that care so much for me, that give me support or hugs or laughter. I, who believed I was a monster for so long, am surrounded, adored, pampered to an extent.
Do I deserve it?
I don't know.
And then there's Mon Guardian. What to say about him, what to say indeed. He's very different from Master, he knows this too, he made the comparison the other night in one of our long chats that Master is like rock, and that he is like water. Which is true, they are. I first started talking to Mon Guardian last summer, we just clicked, it was fun. He was very flirty, but then that's just a part of who he is, and I like it, for the most part. Back then I wasn't so sure, so shy and sure that it must just be a pity thing. But we got closer, and he and Master met each other and liked each other, which was surprising, nice though. I pushed myself a little too far too fast though, and it caused us to sort of drift from each other a bit, him giving me the space he thought I needed. I'm honored, that he's always so focused on thinking about what I need, about what's best for me. Even if that means there's no him.
And he loves me.
Love.
How can such a simple word mean so much and be so complicated? Its not for him, no, his love is there whether I chose to love him back or not, he promised he will always be there for me, along with that love, that caring. He said I'm different from the other girls, that what he feels for me is special, and...I believe him. But it was so hard to let Master in, lord, he had to be so patient to get me to let him in, to trust him. Josie helped so much with that. Master and I were talking on the phone this morning, and we made a joke about a manual for understanding me, he said even he could use it sometimes.
I guess I'm easy to fall in love with, on one of my writing sites I've certainly had men interested in me, wanting to know more. But actually loving me? Not so easy.
I'm a bundle of nerves and worry, insecurities and ramblings, of fears and hopes and silliness and artistic spirit. I don't even know what I am myself sometimes. I appreciate everyone that puts up with me, that soothes me down off the hypes I can get myself into. Its like the runaway thoughts, I just can't shut my mind off, I obsess over things there are no need to obsess over. I find little details, reasons to hold off something, reasons to not give myself fully to feeling. I still expect some people to get bored and leave me, I do. Not Master, no that's quieted since we signed our contract. But what are the chances that someone else, another wonderful, amazing man that appeals to me, that makes me laugh and feel beautiful, would fall in love with me too? Why in the world is someone like me so lucky?
Shaine and Josie both say that its because I'm me, that I deserve it, just by being who I am. I laugh, but inside I wonder at their words. Is who I am really that wonderful?
What is it in me that other people see? What is it that made Master love me so? That found these amazing friends? What is it that makes these people so patient, to ready to let me vent and ramble myself out, my thoughts dancing from one thing to the next and worrying about them all? If I could do one thing, I would try to stop myself from worrying. I do it, all the time, over nearly everything, and its not fun.
I ask Mon Guardian if he could see a future for us, he said he didn't want to give me false promises, he wouldn't lie to me, and he didn't know. I asked him if he wanted one with me. He said yes.
He and Master like each other, Master thinks me falling in love could be a good thing, to open myself up like that, to give more trust. He knows just how hard it was to love him, and I can see why it would be good for me, but I'm ...well I'm me. I told Mon Guardian about my past, all the dirty, horrid things, and he said they didn't matter to him, just who I am does. He doesn't mind my odd quirks, my need for reassurance, they are both so patient with me.
Master made the comment that I'm a bit extreme, not in what I do, but in my emotions.
That's because I like to have things fit into place, to make sense. I don't want halfs, if that makes sense, no sitting on the fence. Either I am or I'm not.
I think if I could get past my fears, I could love Mon Guardian easily, all too easily and that makes me more afraid. I never planned to be with anyone, Master was a shock, the love I felt. I nearly walked away from him. And through this all, this new revelation of love and the loop it has thrown me for, Master is there,reassuring, ready to talk. He is my support, as always; he said he would be disappointed in me if the only reason I had not to love Mon Guardian was fear of intimacy.
And even if I love Mon Guardian, I don't know if I could say it, type it, either. Master was the first man to ever hear those words on my lips, I never even said them to Eric, my first love, he died, having told me he loved me and I stayed quiet. I'm so afraid to lay myself bare like that, I can't love just a little. When I love its everything, its all of me, I hold nothing back, I lay myself before those I love and give all that I can. I think that's part of the reason why my love for Master is so intense. Who knows.
Love is scary to me because it doesn't always make sense, I can't control it, I can't make it fit into my plans. In fact, it has a tendency to muck them up, alter them. But, to be fair, usually in wonderful ways.
Mon Guardian has offered nearly everything I think I need to let myself love, to always stay there, the understanding, the laughter, the tenderness, the patience. He wants a future with me, there's just no promise. But then, when I think back, there hadn't been any future promised when I fell for Master, no, we fell in love, knowing it was crazy and impractical for how far apart we were, how great the odds were against us. If another man can love me, perhaps the love will turn out like it did with Master, with things just fitting into place, with us both so ready, so willing to go out of our way for each other.
So...that leaves hope and fear. And need. Need to know, to understand. But you can't, not with love.
I feel like I'm sitting in front of a canvas, painting the path of my life, relying heavily on a favorite brush, one I know, one that understands me, that knows just how I need and want it to move, that would be Master. But...sometimes other brushes can help, they add details, little things, build on what the first laid down. As a painter I wouldn't reject trying a new tool that might help me. I just wish this was as easy as picking out new brushes. The color is love, that is the paint I'm using, but...can I really share it and not tremble in fear of what will happen if its false?
Love, why does it have to be so hard?
I'm so blessed, with my friends. I really am.
Like with my best friend, Josie, she's just a heaven send, even after this insane semester on both our parts we are so close, and still can make each other laugh. I trust her, I adore her, she understands me in a way I don't think any other girl ever has, she knows what I lived through, she's had her own rough patches. And we've been there for each other through them, I know she's a big reason why Master and I stayed together in the first few months, she kept me sane. Sadly we haven't had as much time this fall for each other, but I get to see her soon, for my birthday she's flying in next week and spending ten days with me. I feel so extremely lucky, I love my Josie, she's the best girl friend I could ask for, and she gets along so well with my Master. She's not in the lifestyle, not a sub or a Dom, but she's kink aware and she accepts us as we are.
And then there is Shaine, oh wow, she's a surprise, so sweet, so loving, all about looking out for me and I try to do the same. We just click, and she gets along with Josie too, which makes me happy. It feels like my circle of friends, of love, is growing outward steadily, strong links that understand and care for each other along with me. I'm going to spend the spring with Shaine actually, I'm a little nervous, yet at the same time so excited, to be back in California, to see old friends, and new ones. Its also sort of a last 'college' experience thing before I move in with Master in May.
And then there are the men in my life, not just Master, though he comes first.
But there's others, like my Knight, he's so wonderful, truly. He lets me come to him about anything, ramble and vent, he soothes me and makes me feel better, I'm his rose, delicate but strong, sweet. Some days we don't talk about anything important, others we talk about a lot of them, but always he is there for me as a friend, a dear close one who I can trust and relax around. I am so grateful to have him in my life, though I fear I am just as greedy with him as I am with the rest of my close friends, in that I turn to him too often, that I don't shield my thoughts enough. But others encourage me to open myself up, my Knight says he likes being there for me, so I guess I shouldn't take that away from him. Master dislikes it when I hold back from him, and I don't wish to make either unhappy.
And yet, I still don't feel worthy of all this, all this love and understanding and affection. I use to long for just one person to love me, just one. And now I have all these different sorts of love, all these friends that care so much for me, that give me support or hugs or laughter. I, who believed I was a monster for so long, am surrounded, adored, pampered to an extent.
Do I deserve it?
I don't know.
And then there's Mon Guardian. What to say about him, what to say indeed. He's very different from Master, he knows this too, he made the comparison the other night in one of our long chats that Master is like rock, and that he is like water. Which is true, they are. I first started talking to Mon Guardian last summer, we just clicked, it was fun. He was very flirty, but then that's just a part of who he is, and I like it, for the most part. Back then I wasn't so sure, so shy and sure that it must just be a pity thing. But we got closer, and he and Master met each other and liked each other, which was surprising, nice though. I pushed myself a little too far too fast though, and it caused us to sort of drift from each other a bit, him giving me the space he thought I needed. I'm honored, that he's always so focused on thinking about what I need, about what's best for me. Even if that means there's no him.
And he loves me.
Love.
How can such a simple word mean so much and be so complicated? Its not for him, no, his love is there whether I chose to love him back or not, he promised he will always be there for me, along with that love, that caring. He said I'm different from the other girls, that what he feels for me is special, and...I believe him. But it was so hard to let Master in, lord, he had to be so patient to get me to let him in, to trust him. Josie helped so much with that. Master and I were talking on the phone this morning, and we made a joke about a manual for understanding me, he said even he could use it sometimes.
I guess I'm easy to fall in love with, on one of my writing sites I've certainly had men interested in me, wanting to know more. But actually loving me? Not so easy.
I'm a bundle of nerves and worry, insecurities and ramblings, of fears and hopes and silliness and artistic spirit. I don't even know what I am myself sometimes. I appreciate everyone that puts up with me, that soothes me down off the hypes I can get myself into. Its like the runaway thoughts, I just can't shut my mind off, I obsess over things there are no need to obsess over. I find little details, reasons to hold off something, reasons to not give myself fully to feeling. I still expect some people to get bored and leave me, I do. Not Master, no that's quieted since we signed our contract. But what are the chances that someone else, another wonderful, amazing man that appeals to me, that makes me laugh and feel beautiful, would fall in love with me too? Why in the world is someone like me so lucky?
Shaine and Josie both say that its because I'm me, that I deserve it, just by being who I am. I laugh, but inside I wonder at their words. Is who I am really that wonderful?
What is it in me that other people see? What is it that made Master love me so? That found these amazing friends? What is it that makes these people so patient, to ready to let me vent and ramble myself out, my thoughts dancing from one thing to the next and worrying about them all? If I could do one thing, I would try to stop myself from worrying. I do it, all the time, over nearly everything, and its not fun.
I ask Mon Guardian if he could see a future for us, he said he didn't want to give me false promises, he wouldn't lie to me, and he didn't know. I asked him if he wanted one with me. He said yes.
He and Master like each other, Master thinks me falling in love could be a good thing, to open myself up like that, to give more trust. He knows just how hard it was to love him, and I can see why it would be good for me, but I'm ...well I'm me. I told Mon Guardian about my past, all the dirty, horrid things, and he said they didn't matter to him, just who I am does. He doesn't mind my odd quirks, my need for reassurance, they are both so patient with me.
Master made the comment that I'm a bit extreme, not in what I do, but in my emotions.
That's because I like to have things fit into place, to make sense. I don't want halfs, if that makes sense, no sitting on the fence. Either I am or I'm not.
I think if I could get past my fears, I could love Mon Guardian easily, all too easily and that makes me more afraid. I never planned to be with anyone, Master was a shock, the love I felt. I nearly walked away from him. And through this all, this new revelation of love and the loop it has thrown me for, Master is there,reassuring, ready to talk. He is my support, as always; he said he would be disappointed in me if the only reason I had not to love Mon Guardian was fear of intimacy.
And even if I love Mon Guardian, I don't know if I could say it, type it, either. Master was the first man to ever hear those words on my lips, I never even said them to Eric, my first love, he died, having told me he loved me and I stayed quiet. I'm so afraid to lay myself bare like that, I can't love just a little. When I love its everything, its all of me, I hold nothing back, I lay myself before those I love and give all that I can. I think that's part of the reason why my love for Master is so intense. Who knows.
Love is scary to me because it doesn't always make sense, I can't control it, I can't make it fit into my plans. In fact, it has a tendency to muck them up, alter them. But, to be fair, usually in wonderful ways.
Mon Guardian has offered nearly everything I think I need to let myself love, to always stay there, the understanding, the laughter, the tenderness, the patience. He wants a future with me, there's just no promise. But then, when I think back, there hadn't been any future promised when I fell for Master, no, we fell in love, knowing it was crazy and impractical for how far apart we were, how great the odds were against us. If another man can love me, perhaps the love will turn out like it did with Master, with things just fitting into place, with us both so ready, so willing to go out of our way for each other.
So...that leaves hope and fear. And need. Need to know, to understand. But you can't, not with love.
I feel like I'm sitting in front of a canvas, painting the path of my life, relying heavily on a favorite brush, one I know, one that understands me, that knows just how I need and want it to move, that would be Master. But...sometimes other brushes can help, they add details, little things, build on what the first laid down. As a painter I wouldn't reject trying a new tool that might help me. I just wish this was as easy as picking out new brushes. The color is love, that is the paint I'm using, but...can I really share it and not tremble in fear of what will happen if its false?
Love, why does it have to be so hard?
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Overload
Wow its been awhile. I guess I've been avoiding self reflecting, which I really shouldn't. I tend to be happier and healthier the more I do this sort of thing, so here I am again.
I have made it past midterms, I have spent a month with Master and learned all the delights to be had there. I've gone to karaoke, sang on the stage with other people, kissed a girl, kissed a guy (not Master too! but with permission), spent Halloween with a Domme just getting to know her. Talk about a busy month. And in that its just been go go, keep going forward, and I've realized that that's not really always good for me. I keep adding more and more to my plate, and now I'm on overload. Such fun. At least I'm not loosing it as bad as I did last fall, that's one thing in my favor.
On midterms, I got an A on my art history test, big shock there huh? Not really but still happy, especially considering I got the name wrong in one of the names for my essay. And a B on my film midterm, which is surprising, because honestly that would be my least favorite class. However its my photography class that I have the lowest grade in, a C thanks to my lack of interest in it. It really does make my eyes glaze over sometimes and I can't seem to get things to click in my head. Oh well I can just try to get caught up and make it better.
A sad point to my mind is that I've gotten so caught up in moving forward, in getting things done that I've stopped having fun in my painting class. My last few paintings haven't been all that great. However I intend to fix this, to make it better and recapture my enjoyment of it. Hopefully I can. I have some good ideas for my next long term painting, hopefully they translate well. I need to recapture my enjoyment in what I'm doing, rather then sinking into endless repetition and going half out of my mind. Lets just hope I can. I'm always so focused on going forward, always so impatient for things to get better or for my skills to improve, I really do need to learn how to relish the journey. The impatience of youth is so not on my favor right now. However I am doing some wonderful writing and creative processes. I think its partly that I just got bored with my classes, past the half point its no longer as new and interesting, its more, 'oh, more of the same.' and I've really got to fix that attitude. Spring is going to kick my ass to be sure! I have hard classes left and right.
On the note of spring, I am going back to California though, so I'm excited for that!
I have made it past midterms, I have spent a month with Master and learned all the delights to be had there. I've gone to karaoke, sang on the stage with other people, kissed a girl, kissed a guy (not Master too! but with permission), spent Halloween with a Domme just getting to know her. Talk about a busy month. And in that its just been go go, keep going forward, and I've realized that that's not really always good for me. I keep adding more and more to my plate, and now I'm on overload. Such fun. At least I'm not loosing it as bad as I did last fall, that's one thing in my favor.
On midterms, I got an A on my art history test, big shock there huh? Not really but still happy, especially considering I got the name wrong in one of the names for my essay. And a B on my film midterm, which is surprising, because honestly that would be my least favorite class. However its my photography class that I have the lowest grade in, a C thanks to my lack of interest in it. It really does make my eyes glaze over sometimes and I can't seem to get things to click in my head. Oh well I can just try to get caught up and make it better.
A sad point to my mind is that I've gotten so caught up in moving forward, in getting things done that I've stopped having fun in my painting class. My last few paintings haven't been all that great. However I intend to fix this, to make it better and recapture my enjoyment of it. Hopefully I can. I have some good ideas for my next long term painting, hopefully they translate well. I need to recapture my enjoyment in what I'm doing, rather then sinking into endless repetition and going half out of my mind. Lets just hope I can. I'm always so focused on going forward, always so impatient for things to get better or for my skills to improve, I really do need to learn how to relish the journey. The impatience of youth is so not on my favor right now. However I am doing some wonderful writing and creative processes. I think its partly that I just got bored with my classes, past the half point its no longer as new and interesting, its more, 'oh, more of the same.' and I've really got to fix that attitude. Spring is going to kick my ass to be sure! I have hard classes left and right.
On the note of spring, I am going back to California though, so I'm excited for that!
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Runaway Thoughts
My thoughts are like a run away train.
I guess I should explain that a bit more, and I will try to, if my thoughts will be nice enough to work with me. I can't stop thinking and its all so fast paced, like a run away train in truth, the moment I set upon one thing, then its off, to another, like a race of some sort. I'm left feeling a little confused, lost and like the wind has run through me a time too many. Most people want to feel like they are smart and think fast, to be able to summon information upon a whim. Well let me tell you its not all fun. I'm smart, for the most part, but I have moments when I can't grasp anything because my thoughts are going too fast for me to capture, when I go from one thing to the next faster then most people can follow. Its not a disorder, at least I don't think so, its not like I have an issue focusing, indeed focusing is easy, I can slip into whatever mind space I need to when given a task. Its when I don't have something to do that I get...anzy I suppose.
A lot of people have remarked to me what a sweet and proper submissive I am, and for the most part I guess that is true. I'm shy before most, sweet and demure, I tend to keep my rambling thoughts to myself or my close friends, I try so hard to always behave to be good. I want to be the good girl, no need to seek out punishment. Master likes pain anyway, so if I desire that I can simply ask, not that big of a deal. But I do more bad then good with my obessive, unending thoughts, with the inability to turn my mind off even for short periods of time. The only time I really get to do a full shut down of any kind is when I'm painting, so zoned in and in my own little world, like meditating sort of, or when Master is touching me, using me. Then I can slip back into the same place I find in painting, that same release. A lot of subs enjoy being able to shut off their minds and let go, for me that's still a hard thing to do. And to let go control in most things? Yeah, not exactly happening easily. I like control, I need it in some ways, I over plan everything. Even to how I'm going to tackle my homework per week. I probably spend as much time thinking about in what order and what manner would be best to do something as actually doing it.
I guess what I am trying to get at it is, I'm not as good as people think I am. Or rather, I am but its slightly compromised by my own incessant thoughts.
I wish I could shut them out, and a lot of time they aren't even good ones. Rather I obsess over if I did something properly, if I'm good enough, if I'm too big, too thick, silly stupid things I shouldn't think. I mean, sometimes I even wonder if perhaps Master could find a better submissive, doubting myself to that level which I know it not only stupid but ridiculous. But its one thing to know something and another to absorb it I guess, and my skull is proving to be particularly thick apparently. I guess one thing that bothers me the most is that some of my thoughts I can't even fully give words to, they are just there, hovering and lingering influencing my emotions and not in a good way. I was crying for a good amount of minutes one night, after being sexually forward and then moving off suddenly, just so jumbled up and confused by my own headspace, I couldn't even explain to master what the problem was. I still have so many things to work through, so many limits I can't touch or am too afraid too, along with clinging to control that I don't need anymore. I know he will take care of me and won't let me fall, I just wish it was easy to do as it is to say....but then that wouldn't be life now would it.
Okay, done rambling for now....stay tuned for the next blog if you are really all that interested in my insanity.
I guess I should explain that a bit more, and I will try to, if my thoughts will be nice enough to work with me. I can't stop thinking and its all so fast paced, like a run away train in truth, the moment I set upon one thing, then its off, to another, like a race of some sort. I'm left feeling a little confused, lost and like the wind has run through me a time too many. Most people want to feel like they are smart and think fast, to be able to summon information upon a whim. Well let me tell you its not all fun. I'm smart, for the most part, but I have moments when I can't grasp anything because my thoughts are going too fast for me to capture, when I go from one thing to the next faster then most people can follow. Its not a disorder, at least I don't think so, its not like I have an issue focusing, indeed focusing is easy, I can slip into whatever mind space I need to when given a task. Its when I don't have something to do that I get...anzy I suppose.
A lot of people have remarked to me what a sweet and proper submissive I am, and for the most part I guess that is true. I'm shy before most, sweet and demure, I tend to keep my rambling thoughts to myself or my close friends, I try so hard to always behave to be good. I want to be the good girl, no need to seek out punishment. Master likes pain anyway, so if I desire that I can simply ask, not that big of a deal. But I do more bad then good with my obessive, unending thoughts, with the inability to turn my mind off even for short periods of time. The only time I really get to do a full shut down of any kind is when I'm painting, so zoned in and in my own little world, like meditating sort of, or when Master is touching me, using me. Then I can slip back into the same place I find in painting, that same release. A lot of subs enjoy being able to shut off their minds and let go, for me that's still a hard thing to do. And to let go control in most things? Yeah, not exactly happening easily. I like control, I need it in some ways, I over plan everything. Even to how I'm going to tackle my homework per week. I probably spend as much time thinking about in what order and what manner would be best to do something as actually doing it.
I guess what I am trying to get at it is, I'm not as good as people think I am. Or rather, I am but its slightly compromised by my own incessant thoughts.
I wish I could shut them out, and a lot of time they aren't even good ones. Rather I obsess over if I did something properly, if I'm good enough, if I'm too big, too thick, silly stupid things I shouldn't think. I mean, sometimes I even wonder if perhaps Master could find a better submissive, doubting myself to that level which I know it not only stupid but ridiculous. But its one thing to know something and another to absorb it I guess, and my skull is proving to be particularly thick apparently. I guess one thing that bothers me the most is that some of my thoughts I can't even fully give words to, they are just there, hovering and lingering influencing my emotions and not in a good way. I was crying for a good amount of minutes one night, after being sexually forward and then moving off suddenly, just so jumbled up and confused by my own headspace, I couldn't even explain to master what the problem was. I still have so many things to work through, so many limits I can't touch or am too afraid too, along with clinging to control that I don't need anymore. I know he will take care of me and won't let me fall, I just wish it was easy to do as it is to say....but then that wouldn't be life now would it.
Okay, done rambling for now....stay tuned for the next blog if you are really all that interested in my insanity.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Contentment
Such a simple, nice word no? Content. I am content.
Actually, right now I'm walking on clouds. I just got a B on my first painting for the semester, which I was not expecting. After struggling with it for a few days I finally stepped back, said I was done and resigned myself to a C, after all that was what I got repeatedly last semester, much to my annoyance and sorrow. But I got a B, straight off. Have to say that makes me so beyond happy, so eager for more this semester. And yes, the semester has started again. I'm still going to the Academy, no plans to transfer, to change anything. I am a Fine Art's Painting major at the Academy of Art University in San Francisco. Now that felt good to say.
Can you tell I'm a bit silly tonight?
Oh well, its me, just another part of me, and I feel so light at heart, so at peace and ease with myself, in a way I really don't think I've known before. My new years resolution to live life for me, for what I want, has turned out rather amazingly. I ended up dating the most amazing guy in the whole world (well for me at least xp), falling in love in a way I never thought I could. And a few months later my happiness was further compounded by him collaring me and finally I had both a protector, a Prince, and the Dom, the Master I always ached for. Sometimes you really can get everything you want in a partner apparently. I went to art school, something some of my family and friends frowned up, I've traveled, I've made love (and god damn, was it amazing), I've made friends, I've opened up and blossomed. And I keep doing so. I'm still afraid sometimes, I still second guess myself, but this is my life and I only get to be young once, might as well make the most of it. My brushes for the canvas that is this year of my life have been carefully chosen and the colors, oh my colors are many and varied. I'm experiencing so much, open to it, loving, thriving.
For this semester I'm taking
Still Life Painting (and I got a B! Yes repeating that, still afterglow lol)
Art History 15th century through the 19th (dear heavens do I adore this class)
Film Post 1940 (interesting but betting this will be my hard class, so lost)
Digital Photography and Photoshop (I hate photoshop)
I love my classes, the challenges they give me. The academic chhallenge, its revved up my mind again and I really really do adore school, its my happy place. It stimulates me, it has clear boundaries and rules, you do this, you get this, and I'm learning such wonderful things. I know a BFA in Fine Arts probably isn't all that practical in this economy, but you know what? Its what I want, its what I feel I need to do, so its what I'm doing and I have faith life will work out in the end. Just like with Mon Voleur, may not know how practical it is for us to be together at times, states part for months at a time, but in the end, things will work out, because its meant to be. There's a release in believing that.
My creativity is just flowing lately, I'm writing, painting, singing and loving life.
I'm lucky enough that this month I get to live with Mon Voleur, which would be another reason why I'm so blissfully happy. How can a girl not be when she sleeps in his bed? When he holds her, loves her, caresses her, feeds her and cherishes her. I spent nearly every waking moment with him and I love every second of it. He is my world, my everything, my heart, my Thief in truth. I can't imagine my life without him, forever I am his......okay off ramble about the most wonderful man I have ever known.
I keep meeting new people and learning about them, making new friends, opening myself up more. I'm learning that I am special, beautiful, that I really do have something new and wonderful to offer the world, and I'm going to make sure I give it. I know I'm blessed, to have found a Master that fits so perfectly with what I need, with what I have always wanted, to be able to go to one of the best art schools, to have such wonderful friends, to know so much about myself so young. But I promsie, I won't be lazy, I won't let my time slip by, I'll live my life to the fullest, cherishing each moment and focusing on my future, on the future I want to build and paint and create.
Brush strokes people, I'm loving these brush strokes.
Actually, right now I'm walking on clouds. I just got a B on my first painting for the semester, which I was not expecting. After struggling with it for a few days I finally stepped back, said I was done and resigned myself to a C, after all that was what I got repeatedly last semester, much to my annoyance and sorrow. But I got a B, straight off. Have to say that makes me so beyond happy, so eager for more this semester. And yes, the semester has started again. I'm still going to the Academy, no plans to transfer, to change anything. I am a Fine Art's Painting major at the Academy of Art University in San Francisco. Now that felt good to say.
Can you tell I'm a bit silly tonight?
Oh well, its me, just another part of me, and I feel so light at heart, so at peace and ease with myself, in a way I really don't think I've known before. My new years resolution to live life for me, for what I want, has turned out rather amazingly. I ended up dating the most amazing guy in the whole world (well for me at least xp), falling in love in a way I never thought I could. And a few months later my happiness was further compounded by him collaring me and finally I had both a protector, a Prince, and the Dom, the Master I always ached for. Sometimes you really can get everything you want in a partner apparently. I went to art school, something some of my family and friends frowned up, I've traveled, I've made love (and god damn, was it amazing), I've made friends, I've opened up and blossomed. And I keep doing so. I'm still afraid sometimes, I still second guess myself, but this is my life and I only get to be young once, might as well make the most of it. My brushes for the canvas that is this year of my life have been carefully chosen and the colors, oh my colors are many and varied. I'm experiencing so much, open to it, loving, thriving.
For this semester I'm taking
Still Life Painting (and I got a B! Yes repeating that, still afterglow lol)
Art History 15th century through the 19th (dear heavens do I adore this class)
Film Post 1940 (interesting but betting this will be my hard class, so lost)
Digital Photography and Photoshop (I hate photoshop)
I love my classes, the challenges they give me. The academic chhallenge, its revved up my mind again and I really really do adore school, its my happy place. It stimulates me, it has clear boundaries and rules, you do this, you get this, and I'm learning such wonderful things. I know a BFA in Fine Arts probably isn't all that practical in this economy, but you know what? Its what I want, its what I feel I need to do, so its what I'm doing and I have faith life will work out in the end. Just like with Mon Voleur, may not know how practical it is for us to be together at times, states part for months at a time, but in the end, things will work out, because its meant to be. There's a release in believing that.
My creativity is just flowing lately, I'm writing, painting, singing and loving life.
I'm lucky enough that this month I get to live with Mon Voleur, which would be another reason why I'm so blissfully happy. How can a girl not be when she sleeps in his bed? When he holds her, loves her, caresses her, feeds her and cherishes her. I spent nearly every waking moment with him and I love every second of it. He is my world, my everything, my heart, my Thief in truth. I can't imagine my life without him, forever I am his......okay off ramble about the most wonderful man I have ever known.
I keep meeting new people and learning about them, making new friends, opening myself up more. I'm learning that I am special, beautiful, that I really do have something new and wonderful to offer the world, and I'm going to make sure I give it. I know I'm blessed, to have found a Master that fits so perfectly with what I need, with what I have always wanted, to be able to go to one of the best art schools, to have such wonderful friends, to know so much about myself so young. But I promsie, I won't be lazy, I won't let my time slip by, I'll live my life to the fullest, cherishing each moment and focusing on my future, on the future I want to build and paint and create.
Brush strokes people, I'm loving these brush strokes.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Sexual Submission - Why I need to give it
Okay so I was talking to a Dom earlier and this came up, I thought I would try to put into words more clearly.
I love that even if I get flirty and 'sexy' with Mon Voleur, even when I'm his 'sex kitten' I am still his Princess, his lady. I'm still sweet and innocent and silly. That being sexual with someone doesn't make me have to be someone who's sexual all the time. But its more then just wanting to be those things, its needing to still be treated like that, like a lady, like a princess or anything.
Because for me, sex is scary.
Yeah, silly I know, but it is. You can't control how you react, there's no way to. Even if you hate what's happening to you, even if its rape, your body will react in a way that all bodies do. Its why men can be raped, why women get wet when they are, its a biological reaction that sometimes, there's no way to stop. And sex, its so intense and intimate, its, at least for me, like sharing part of my soul with that other person. That is why I stick to hugs and cuddles, maybe a kiss or two here and there outside of a very select few, even online. I can't cyber casually, it just will never happen, I'm not comfortable with it. Because for me to be with someone in a physical way, even if its in text, it still means baring a part of my heart and soul to that person. I can't fake who I am, I don't try, I mean yeah, I could assume a character and come off confident and sexy and purr invitation at all the guys. But that would be a character, not me. I am myself and when I get hurt, well I get hurt.
Now, considering some of my past its funny that I want the other person to have the control. But that's part of why I won't do anything with anyone I don't feel absolutely safe with. Because for me to enjoy it, I need to be able to let go, I need to have that level of trust where the other person guides me through the experience. I control a lot of parts of my life, I have a slight OCD and things have to be just so. I love that in sex, I can let that go, I can surrender over to what the other person chooses. Now I'm not into pain, so it doesn't touch on that, but having a Dom who knows my limits and how to handle me, 'play' with me is wonderful. I love how free I am to be sexy and sensual, to react to what they do, to not have to worry about how I am reacting, and just experience the pleasure.
I think it also touches on what my third and last boyfriend said to me. "You're good to fuck around with, but not the type of girl I'd take home." This is the boy that assaulted and took advantage of me when we were stuck in an elevator for an hour and a half together. It was like, after he knew my past, after he had touched me, there was no need to treat me well. The moment he touched me (granted I did give him a black eye) any respect was gone. So I was afraid to let anyone touch me, or to share of myself that way. Because I want to be the sweet, innocent person that I present myself as the majority of the time. And I am, its not a facade for me, really, my mind does not go into the gutter and I do blush every single time I type it. Ask any of my friends, they see me do it all the time.
The Dom I was talking to said something about how the princess and the sensual young woman, that was mixed in me, he saw both and liked both, but it was one person. That I could be both at the same time. Personally, I don't feel like I can, at least not yet. And that's part of the reason why in sex I will probably only ever be submissive until I can accept that. And well...I just plain like that part too.
I love that even if I get flirty and 'sexy' with Mon Voleur, even when I'm his 'sex kitten' I am still his Princess, his lady. I'm still sweet and innocent and silly. That being sexual with someone doesn't make me have to be someone who's sexual all the time. But its more then just wanting to be those things, its needing to still be treated like that, like a lady, like a princess or anything.
Because for me, sex is scary.
Yeah, silly I know, but it is. You can't control how you react, there's no way to. Even if you hate what's happening to you, even if its rape, your body will react in a way that all bodies do. Its why men can be raped, why women get wet when they are, its a biological reaction that sometimes, there's no way to stop. And sex, its so intense and intimate, its, at least for me, like sharing part of my soul with that other person. That is why I stick to hugs and cuddles, maybe a kiss or two here and there outside of a very select few, even online. I can't cyber casually, it just will never happen, I'm not comfortable with it. Because for me to be with someone in a physical way, even if its in text, it still means baring a part of my heart and soul to that person. I can't fake who I am, I don't try, I mean yeah, I could assume a character and come off confident and sexy and purr invitation at all the guys. But that would be a character, not me. I am myself and when I get hurt, well I get hurt.
Now, considering some of my past its funny that I want the other person to have the control. But that's part of why I won't do anything with anyone I don't feel absolutely safe with. Because for me to enjoy it, I need to be able to let go, I need to have that level of trust where the other person guides me through the experience. I control a lot of parts of my life, I have a slight OCD and things have to be just so. I love that in sex, I can let that go, I can surrender over to what the other person chooses. Now I'm not into pain, so it doesn't touch on that, but having a Dom who knows my limits and how to handle me, 'play' with me is wonderful. I love how free I am to be sexy and sensual, to react to what they do, to not have to worry about how I am reacting, and just experience the pleasure.
I think it also touches on what my third and last boyfriend said to me. "You're good to fuck around with, but not the type of girl I'd take home." This is the boy that assaulted and took advantage of me when we were stuck in an elevator for an hour and a half together. It was like, after he knew my past, after he had touched me, there was no need to treat me well. The moment he touched me (granted I did give him a black eye) any respect was gone. So I was afraid to let anyone touch me, or to share of myself that way. Because I want to be the sweet, innocent person that I present myself as the majority of the time. And I am, its not a facade for me, really, my mind does not go into the gutter and I do blush every single time I type it. Ask any of my friends, they see me do it all the time.
The Dom I was talking to said something about how the princess and the sensual young woman, that was mixed in me, he saw both and liked both, but it was one person. That I could be both at the same time. Personally, I don't feel like I can, at least not yet. And that's part of the reason why in sex I will probably only ever be submissive until I can accept that. And well...I just plain like that part too.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Confessing to Submission
Think not of it, sweet one, so;---
Give it not a tear;
Sigh thou mayst, and bid it go
Any---anywhere.
Do not look so sad, sweet one,---
Sad and fadingly;
Shed one drop then,---it is gone---
O 'twas born to die!
Still so pale? then, dearest, weep;
Weep, I'll count the tears,
And each one shall be a bliss
For thee in after years.
Brighter has it left thine eyes
Than a sunny rill;
And thy whispering melodies
Are tenderer still.
Yet---as all things mourn awhile
At fleeting blisses,
E'en let us too! but be our dirge
A dirge of kisses.John Keats
It was one of the last things we did together today, him reading me that. Keats is both of our favorite poet, we figured that out so long ago. I let Will take my volume of his work with him, and I plan to ask him to read from it to me regularly. It was so hard not to cry today. Not to cling and beg him not to go. I did beg the last few days for just one more day, just stay a little longer. But as much as one may wish to live in a fantasy reality always intrudes and so we are apart again, for a few weeks, at least its not as long as before. that's what I remind myself.
I have something to confess, or rather, to come out about. A portion of the site already knows, some in detail about it, others vague. And I'm sure there have been guesses at it ever since I switched my orientation from unsure to submissive.
I am submissive.
Its not something I'm completely at ease with admitting, after all I know for a fact that some of what has protected me a bit from 'darker' attentions in other places is my 'vanilla-ness'. I'm boring, vanilla, hopeless romantic. But you can be those things and still be a sub. *laughs* Though I'll probably get in trouble for calling myself boring. *looks around for Master warily*
Its been a journey, getting to this point. I first had a taste of it over a year ago, joining E, making friends with people like Cherri/Sprite, and if some remember, Sherona and Stori. I listened to them, asked questions, did research. I read stories and blogs and almost anything I could get my hands on. And it was the non sexual stuff that appealed to me, the trust, the communication. The clear boundaries and powers, the rules, the love and safety and trust. Oh trust is so huge to me. And it would be a safe environment in which I could let go, in which I could surrender, and entrust someone else with control. Those are just the first things I remember drawing me too it, I was lucky enough to see how the dynamic worked through several of my friends relationships, through things in role plays, through real blogs and even a few books. My aunt, I found out over Christmas break, is a submissive as well, though, perhaps not as fully into it as I have found myself now. There have always been bits of it showing, a few people have outright guessed at it, but being submissive, it scared the shit out of me. Because that was what I saw my mother as, and...well I don't want to do into it, but she isn't, she's dependent, weak, she's a child in a woman's body who accepts no responsibility for things.
I was worried about being weak. Giving submission to someone is one of the hardest things you can do. Submission is a strength.
I was worried about not accepting the responsibilities I need to. As if, you have to take them, and own your mistakes and your successes.
I am more truly myself now then I have ever been I think, finally accepting this part of me.
Now to why this all is relevant.
I wanted to explore D/s back last fall, wanted to learn more about it, its pros and cons, if it really was for me. A male friend of mine who had been taught by a Mistress offered to guide me through it. I believe he said something about how "I would rather you experience it with me and know you are safe then end up" in something bad. Not sure the exact words. So after a few days of talking, considerations and wrestling with myself we both agreed. Now he had only been a sub up till then and this was strictly online, and mostly sexual (which was extremely hard for me, because even with this I'm not comfortable with talking about sex openly, or seeing myself as a sexual person). So I was his, and the learning did begin. At times it was downright hard, though a lot of it was shield by the fact that it was purely online. He did get me to appreciate my breasts, and other parts of my body, to learn how to find pleasure from my body. (I am blushing sooo badly right now). And we were close friends, even outside of that, for months.
Until I met Mon Voleur and things became serious with him, about three weeks into my relationship with Mon Voleur I asked to be released from the relationship, to be able to be completely Mon Voleur's. I was, and even to this day I remain good friends with my first Master.
The first time I brought up D/s to Mon Voleur, he laughed at it, he couldn't see us fitting into that. It was partly because I still hid a lot of myself from him, I'm a private person, I get to know people by degrees. But I have told Mon Voleur things I never planned to tell another living soul, so this came out, after our first rl visit. And a lot of our relationship already had natural undertones in it, like him making sure I ate so many times a day, giving me a bedtime, lightly slapping my hand or ass, or breast (he really loves all of them I think) whenever I got too outspoken. There are countless other things, but those are the biggest in my mind at the moment. So we talked about it, I knew what I wanted and needed, and I told him that I couldn't just go blindly into this, or ask him to. I asked him to do his own research, we shared links, we talked about it deeply. And then started moving toward it. On Saturday night he collared me, I am wearing the wondrous object right now, touching it every so often as I write. This is hard for me, I am not sure I'm ready to admit to this, but then, I've written all of this so I guess I sort of have.
I am not loosing myself, I am not changing.
I am me, and I am a submissive and I love every part of it (well not when I get in trouble but that's good for me too) and...well I'm stopping here for tonight. If I work up the gumption I'll write more tomorrow.
Give it not a tear;
Sigh thou mayst, and bid it go
Any---anywhere.
Do not look so sad, sweet one,---
Sad and fadingly;
Shed one drop then,---it is gone---
O 'twas born to die!
Still so pale? then, dearest, weep;
Weep, I'll count the tears,
And each one shall be a bliss
For thee in after years.
Brighter has it left thine eyes
Than a sunny rill;
And thy whispering melodies
Are tenderer still.
Yet---as all things mourn awhile
At fleeting blisses,
E'en let us too! but be our dirge
A dirge of kisses.John Keats
It was one of the last things we did together today, him reading me that. Keats is both of our favorite poet, we figured that out so long ago. I let Will take my volume of his work with him, and I plan to ask him to read from it to me regularly. It was so hard not to cry today. Not to cling and beg him not to go. I did beg the last few days for just one more day, just stay a little longer. But as much as one may wish to live in a fantasy reality always intrudes and so we are apart again, for a few weeks, at least its not as long as before. that's what I remind myself.
I have something to confess, or rather, to come out about. A portion of the site already knows, some in detail about it, others vague. And I'm sure there have been guesses at it ever since I switched my orientation from unsure to submissive.
I am submissive.
Its not something I'm completely at ease with admitting, after all I know for a fact that some of what has protected me a bit from 'darker' attentions in other places is my 'vanilla-ness'. I'm boring, vanilla, hopeless romantic. But you can be those things and still be a sub. *laughs* Though I'll probably get in trouble for calling myself boring. *looks around for Master warily*
Its been a journey, getting to this point. I first had a taste of it over a year ago, joining E, making friends with people like Cherri/Sprite, and if some remember, Sherona and Stori. I listened to them, asked questions, did research. I read stories and blogs and almost anything I could get my hands on. And it was the non sexual stuff that appealed to me, the trust, the communication. The clear boundaries and powers, the rules, the love and safety and trust. Oh trust is so huge to me. And it would be a safe environment in which I could let go, in which I could surrender, and entrust someone else with control. Those are just the first things I remember drawing me too it, I was lucky enough to see how the dynamic worked through several of my friends relationships, through things in role plays, through real blogs and even a few books. My aunt, I found out over Christmas break, is a submissive as well, though, perhaps not as fully into it as I have found myself now. There have always been bits of it showing, a few people have outright guessed at it, but being submissive, it scared the shit out of me. Because that was what I saw my mother as, and...well I don't want to do into it, but she isn't, she's dependent, weak, she's a child in a woman's body who accepts no responsibility for things.
I was worried about being weak. Giving submission to someone is one of the hardest things you can do. Submission is a strength.
I was worried about not accepting the responsibilities I need to. As if, you have to take them, and own your mistakes and your successes.
I am more truly myself now then I have ever been I think, finally accepting this part of me.
Now to why this all is relevant.
I wanted to explore D/s back last fall, wanted to learn more about it, its pros and cons, if it really was for me. A male friend of mine who had been taught by a Mistress offered to guide me through it. I believe he said something about how "I would rather you experience it with me and know you are safe then end up" in something bad. Not sure the exact words. So after a few days of talking, considerations and wrestling with myself we both agreed. Now he had only been a sub up till then and this was strictly online, and mostly sexual (which was extremely hard for me, because even with this I'm not comfortable with talking about sex openly, or seeing myself as a sexual person). So I was his, and the learning did begin. At times it was downright hard, though a lot of it was shield by the fact that it was purely online. He did get me to appreciate my breasts, and other parts of my body, to learn how to find pleasure from my body. (I am blushing sooo badly right now). And we were close friends, even outside of that, for months.
Until I met Mon Voleur and things became serious with him, about three weeks into my relationship with Mon Voleur I asked to be released from the relationship, to be able to be completely Mon Voleur's. I was, and even to this day I remain good friends with my first Master.
The first time I brought up D/s to Mon Voleur, he laughed at it, he couldn't see us fitting into that. It was partly because I still hid a lot of myself from him, I'm a private person, I get to know people by degrees. But I have told Mon Voleur things I never planned to tell another living soul, so this came out, after our first rl visit. And a lot of our relationship already had natural undertones in it, like him making sure I ate so many times a day, giving me a bedtime, lightly slapping my hand or ass, or breast (he really loves all of them I think) whenever I got too outspoken. There are countless other things, but those are the biggest in my mind at the moment. So we talked about it, I knew what I wanted and needed, and I told him that I couldn't just go blindly into this, or ask him to. I asked him to do his own research, we shared links, we talked about it deeply. And then started moving toward it. On Saturday night he collared me, I am wearing the wondrous object right now, touching it every so often as I write. This is hard for me, I am not sure I'm ready to admit to this, but then, I've written all of this so I guess I sort of have.
I am not loosing myself, I am not changing.
I am me, and I am a submissive and I love every part of it (well not when I get in trouble but that's good for me too) and...well I'm stopping here for tonight. If I work up the gumption I'll write more tomorrow.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Poetry
Lost.
I am lost without his arms around me.
I am sinking into the slumber of the only peace I know.
Pain, pain and lost.
These are memories, things I know well, paths I have tred before.
Lost, pained, sleeping.
Slumber, repose is my safety.
I sleep, I sleep and dream, dreams of fear and pain.
They do not end, even upon waking.
I know the pain, it holds here, within my heart.
It lingers in the scars, it is a part of me.
I am consumed by it.
Always lost, always afraid.
Dreams of love linger, just out of reach.
But whispers, whispers tell me that is all they are.
Love is a dream, a myth not for one such as I...
I sink, slowly, deeper, deeper, deeper, into this pain.
This reality and tells me, that shows me.
I am what it has made me...
She holds her hand extended.
Smooth skin gleaming beneath the moon, light clinging to her.
A creature of shadows and light.
Its a truth all of us are, yet so little see.
"come to me..." she murmurs to through the chill night air.
"Come dance with me..."
Her leg moves, one step to the left, then back.
Still the hand holds extended, like to a supplicant before a king.
She is the goddess of this domain, one fair and great, terrible and beautiful.
There is an awful sort of knowledge within those wild eyes.
"Come...come dance with me."
She chants the worlds, a strange cadence to fill the night.
"Come..come to me..."
Again and again, the words sound from those full tempting lips.
Her feet move, with the unworldly grace only she possesses.
Reach, a hand reaches for hers, only to pull back again.
There is pleasure, but pain as well in those wild eyes of hers.
Shadows and light, shadows and light.
It is what we all are.
It is what we all fear.
"Come...come to me.."
It sounds, over and over, words of pleading, of command.
Words of knowledge and desire, words of fear and innocence.
She knows what she seeks, what she demands.
And yet, she does not know what attaining it will be.
The melody plays, over and over, consuming the mind.
Hmmhmm...hmmhmmmmm....hhmm...hhhmmmhmm........
Chants, melody, sounds surround and fill, music calls to the soul.
She calls to the soul.
"Come..come dance with me..."
One step forward, a hand reaches again, this time not pulling away.
It is given, the trust, trust in both what is seen and what can not be seen.
Known, unknown, fear, knowledge, pleasure, pain.
To know one thing another must come as well.
Yin and yang.
I am lost without his arms around me.
I am sinking into the slumber of the only peace I know.
Pain, pain and lost.
These are memories, things I know well, paths I have tred before.
Lost, pained, sleeping.
Slumber, repose is my safety.
I sleep, I sleep and dream, dreams of fear and pain.
They do not end, even upon waking.
I know the pain, it holds here, within my heart.
It lingers in the scars, it is a part of me.
I am consumed by it.
Always lost, always afraid.
Dreams of love linger, just out of reach.
But whispers, whispers tell me that is all they are.
Love is a dream, a myth not for one such as I...
I sink, slowly, deeper, deeper, deeper, into this pain.
This reality and tells me, that shows me.
I am what it has made me...
She holds her hand extended.
Smooth skin gleaming beneath the moon, light clinging to her.
A creature of shadows and light.
Its a truth all of us are, yet so little see.
"come to me..." she murmurs to through the chill night air.
"Come dance with me..."
Her leg moves, one step to the left, then back.
Still the hand holds extended, like to a supplicant before a king.
She is the goddess of this domain, one fair and great, terrible and beautiful.
There is an awful sort of knowledge within those wild eyes.
"Come...come dance with me."
She chants the worlds, a strange cadence to fill the night.
"Come..come to me..."
Again and again, the words sound from those full tempting lips.
Her feet move, with the unworldly grace only she possesses.
Reach, a hand reaches for hers, only to pull back again.
There is pleasure, but pain as well in those wild eyes of hers.
Shadows and light, shadows and light.
It is what we all are.
It is what we all fear.
"Come...come to me.."
It sounds, over and over, words of pleading, of command.
Words of knowledge and desire, words of fear and innocence.
She knows what she seeks, what she demands.
And yet, she does not know what attaining it will be.
The melody plays, over and over, consuming the mind.
Hmmhmm...hmmhmmmmm....hhmm...hhhmmmhmm........
Chants, melody, sounds surround and fill, music calls to the soul.
She calls to the soul.
"Come..come dance with me..."
One step forward, a hand reaches again, this time not pulling away.
It is given, the trust, trust in both what is seen and what can not be seen.
Known, unknown, fear, knowledge, pleasure, pain.
To know one thing another must come as well.
Yin and yang.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Midnight Reflections
So, here I am once more, trying to write more often.
In my last blog I said something about how life is about failure. I was semi resigned to it, and I guess I found an upside to such failures, as long as they are small ones. In that I was told by my teacher that my still life as of last Tuesday was totally off and I had to start a new one. I took two days off to try and get my head on straight and then went at it. And you know what? The second one turned out a lot better then the first, and it was a lot faster. So, for once, failure worked for me.
Granted, right now at midnight the night before I have to turn it in I'm not overly pleased with having cut it so close. Or with the fact that now I"m behind on the schedule I had planned out for this week. Considering I have a term paper due on Wednesday and a hand and foot, both fully rendered due on Thursday. Its just going to be one of those weeks.
But that's okay.
I am on a writing forum, and about a week ago or so I went out to an art show gallery, got all dressed up and posted a video of me on that forum. In a little black dress, black four inch heels and with make up. I got a ton of compliments. But posting the video is the real thing for me I think, I was confident enough to put something of myself out there. I mean, a face picture, shows just that, your face, and I'm pretty enough to be semi comfortable with that. But to post a video showing off my body in a sexy dress? Not something I would have ever seen myself doing even a few months ago. But, as one of the comment's said "You are just brimming with confidence" and its true. It took confidence to post up that video of myself, and I realized, it takes confidence to write these blogs. Because I'm showing 'off', sharing parts of myself I once would have kept hidden. I have become sure in who I am, in that fact that regardless of what a few may think, that most people on that forum will like me, will want to see me. I am more sure of my reception with other people.
Don't get me wrong, part of me is still freaking out every time there is more then say three people around, and even then, no promises. I am always unsure, what if they don't like me? What if I do something wrong? There is always that fear, that self doubt, but I've eased it some. I have confidence in myself and how I present myself to the world around me. I've struggled with confidence a lot lately. After being one of the top students in my high school and my last college, to come here and struggle and work my ass of to get C's....well it wasn't very encouraging or a happy thing. But I have had the people in my life who matter tell me that they don't care what grade I get. I tied up my self worth and identity with how I performed in school, bad idea. I'm trying to fix it. Lets see if I can.
In my last blog I said something about how life is about failure. I was semi resigned to it, and I guess I found an upside to such failures, as long as they are small ones. In that I was told by my teacher that my still life as of last Tuesday was totally off and I had to start a new one. I took two days off to try and get my head on straight and then went at it. And you know what? The second one turned out a lot better then the first, and it was a lot faster. So, for once, failure worked for me.
Granted, right now at midnight the night before I have to turn it in I'm not overly pleased with having cut it so close. Or with the fact that now I"m behind on the schedule I had planned out for this week. Considering I have a term paper due on Wednesday and a hand and foot, both fully rendered due on Thursday. Its just going to be one of those weeks.
But that's okay.
I am on a writing forum, and about a week ago or so I went out to an art show gallery, got all dressed up and posted a video of me on that forum. In a little black dress, black four inch heels and with make up. I got a ton of compliments. But posting the video is the real thing for me I think, I was confident enough to put something of myself out there. I mean, a face picture, shows just that, your face, and I'm pretty enough to be semi comfortable with that. But to post a video showing off my body in a sexy dress? Not something I would have ever seen myself doing even a few months ago. But, as one of the comment's said "You are just brimming with confidence" and its true. It took confidence to post up that video of myself, and I realized, it takes confidence to write these blogs. Because I'm showing 'off', sharing parts of myself I once would have kept hidden. I have become sure in who I am, in that fact that regardless of what a few may think, that most people on that forum will like me, will want to see me. I am more sure of my reception with other people.
Don't get me wrong, part of me is still freaking out every time there is more then say three people around, and even then, no promises. I am always unsure, what if they don't like me? What if I do something wrong? There is always that fear, that self doubt, but I've eased it some. I have confidence in myself and how I present myself to the world around me. I've struggled with confidence a lot lately. After being one of the top students in my high school and my last college, to come here and struggle and work my ass of to get C's....well it wasn't very encouraging or a happy thing. But I have had the people in my life who matter tell me that they don't care what grade I get. I tied up my self worth and identity with how I performed in school, bad idea. I'm trying to fix it. Lets see if I can.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Little Time to Think
I have fallen off blogging.
I didn't mean to, its more that school, and well life in general has swallowed me up whole. I hardly have enough time in the day to myself, that isn't full of something, in some manner or another. No more time for just sitting still and thinking. I miss it partly, so I'm going to try to start doing it again more. But yes, school has overwhelmed a lot of things, its pushing me, driving me nuts and challenging. I use to think I wanted that, but now I have to seriously doubt my sanity since I sought out this crazy school. I've taken and sustained several blows to my psyche the last few months with the C's I get, which mean, here that I"m doing what I'm expected to do. If you get an A, you shouldn't be in that class. How hard to accept that, that grades, in the end, really don't matter.
We have been programed for so many years that grades are all important, that they are how we measure our worth and success in life against. And then once we get out of school, out of traditional colleges, and into real life, or some crazy situation like my school, we realize just how little they mean. And damn, let me tell you, its hard to adjust. Its hard to realize that suddenly, everything we believed was important, really isn't. However, there are upsides. Now its all about what I produce, what the end product is. And you know what, sure I'm not all that great yet, but I'm a lot better then I was when I started this semester. Art is hard, its so hard to not compare yourself against everyone else, but its all subjective, because art is part of you. It isn't as clear cut as English and History, though let me tell you, I have my moments wishing it was.
But part of that is good, because it makes me realize that you can't compare yourself against other people. You just can't. There really were always be someone better then you (in this school more like probably, a hundred, since they are ahead of you). So you have to stop obsessing over what you can't do and focus on what you can and just kick up the work level until you can do all that you need to.
"Life is about failure."
Its true, but its not quiet that simple. Life is about how you get around that failure, its about how you take that failure and improve, move past and come out on top at the end. So heres to coming out on top for all of us. Just remember to be yourself, because, that my friend, is something only you can do. Only I can be, only I can bring to the table my art, my ideas and my emotions. So that makes me special, especially to the people who want me for me.
School is drawing towards the end, the frenzy of finals is just about to eat me up and possess me. I'll have to make an effort to just sit down and think things out and write my blogs. I didn't realize how such a little thing helped so much with keeping me sane. And as an artist, you need all the sane you can get.
I didn't mean to, its more that school, and well life in general has swallowed me up whole. I hardly have enough time in the day to myself, that isn't full of something, in some manner or another. No more time for just sitting still and thinking. I miss it partly, so I'm going to try to start doing it again more. But yes, school has overwhelmed a lot of things, its pushing me, driving me nuts and challenging. I use to think I wanted that, but now I have to seriously doubt my sanity since I sought out this crazy school. I've taken and sustained several blows to my psyche the last few months with the C's I get, which mean, here that I"m doing what I'm expected to do. If you get an A, you shouldn't be in that class. How hard to accept that, that grades, in the end, really don't matter.
We have been programed for so many years that grades are all important, that they are how we measure our worth and success in life against. And then once we get out of school, out of traditional colleges, and into real life, or some crazy situation like my school, we realize just how little they mean. And damn, let me tell you, its hard to adjust. Its hard to realize that suddenly, everything we believed was important, really isn't. However, there are upsides. Now its all about what I produce, what the end product is. And you know what, sure I'm not all that great yet, but I'm a lot better then I was when I started this semester. Art is hard, its so hard to not compare yourself against everyone else, but its all subjective, because art is part of you. It isn't as clear cut as English and History, though let me tell you, I have my moments wishing it was.
But part of that is good, because it makes me realize that you can't compare yourself against other people. You just can't. There really were always be someone better then you (in this school more like probably, a hundred, since they are ahead of you). So you have to stop obsessing over what you can't do and focus on what you can and just kick up the work level until you can do all that you need to.
"Life is about failure."
Its true, but its not quiet that simple. Life is about how you get around that failure, its about how you take that failure and improve, move past and come out on top at the end. So heres to coming out on top for all of us. Just remember to be yourself, because, that my friend, is something only you can do. Only I can be, only I can bring to the table my art, my ideas and my emotions. So that makes me special, especially to the people who want me for me.
School is drawing towards the end, the frenzy of finals is just about to eat me up and possess me. I'll have to make an effort to just sit down and think things out and write my blogs. I didn't realize how such a little thing helped so much with keeping me sane. And as an artist, you need all the sane you can get.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
The Start
I believe...this had a right to be here. Its the first real self reflective piece I wrote, one of the best things I've ever written...and its me, though my goals have since changed.
The first time I spun a story with words all my own, it was a breezy, sunny afternoon, not remarkable to anyone other than me. I remember sitting underneath a large willow tree, listening to the murmuring of the wind through the gracefully dancing leaves and feeling the need to capture the thoughts, the sensations that one moment inspired. The end result wasn’t great, must less above average; it was not even really eloquent, but it freed my mind to think in its own context, outside the classroom, to create and edit thoughts, day dreams and nightmares that would eventually turn into either poems or short stories that let out everything I could not. My love of reading had already led me to a wide array of interests and my imagination never ran out of things to describe when my pen touched paper or my fingers a keyboard. I began to write everything down, every silly little random thought, every dream and wish, recording my life in snippets of information that would have been meaningless to anyone other then myself. As my reading and my writing progressed, as I noticed more about the things around me over the years, I became driven by one particular dream, afflicted with the undeniable need to share the things in this life that so often go ignored, the stories so similar to mine and yet so utterly different. With this I slipped off the easy path that had been before me, stepping into a wilderness where I had to walk slowly and listen carefully to all that was around me, for it was people that I focused on, and about whom I wrote. This is where the uncomfortable part of my writing appears, for my life has been difficult to say the least, and, though I find it near impossible to write about my own past, I still experience the impulse, an inexplicable urge, to write about those I see around me.
I wish to share with the world the stories of what I have termed the ‘silent slaughter’, that condition both mental and physical that is nearly impossible to escape from, that changes from victim to victim but is purely the degradation of the soul and spirit, most simply put. I should know; I have lived through part of it. Otherwise I doubt I would have the tenacity or the arrogance to refer to it by a nickname, although there is no affection inside me for it. Most simply put, for the meaning of it changes with each story, it is being imprisoned by abuse of any kind, most especially when the abuser is one who society views with approval and believes can do no wrong.
This I know for truth, for I am an abuse victim and my freedom came at a very bitter price: my younger siblings. It was not merely the relationship of sister that was taken from me for I was their mother because our mother could parent no one nor had the will to do anything other then substance abuse and abuse to us. They, Alyssia, Brianna, Pilar, and Jacob, were my world but in exchange for my freedom I lost them five years ago and have not seen them since. I made the choice to leave my mother and stepfather and to be placed in foster care; I knew that it was the right thing to do even though my escape was bitter and guilty. There are many things I still do not remember because my own mind shelters me from those harsh realities, but I can say honestly that if I was still in the same position I doubt I would be alive today. I could not speak of them, of the nightmares that haunt me still to this day, but in my writing, I found a release, a freedom that I had never known before and it became everything to me as I began my first year of high school and struggled with depression. That, more then anything else, was the reason why I joined my high school’s newspaper; even four years ago I had a vague idea of what I wished to do. I could not write about myself for that required something I was not able to give, but I could and would write about everything and anything I saw around me, as I still do, in poems, short stories and other forms, although the majority of such writing are private, since they are often harsh, brutal and shied away from.
I am no mover or shaker, I am not out to radically change the world, or to rebel against it; but I will be heard, I hope some will really listen for I do not speak only for myself. I wish to write, to share the lives of people who on the outside seem ordinary but in truth are remarkable, incredible, heroes in their own way. I fear that I may not quite be able to do this yet; for me it has always been either complete silence or painfully unvarnished truth, and I have yet to learn the boundaries in this search for truth in the human story.
My ideas and aspirations center around the silent ones of my generation, of the older generations and of the generations yet to come. I wish to speak, to interpret in a way, for those who can not or do not have the strength to speak for themselves. I am no bottom feeder to take their stories and build a name for myself on the pity they might invoke, this is not my wish, for I have been in their place, but I do want to be a muckraker in a unique way. I want to learn of their stories and expose them to a world that needs to hear them. In Broken For You, Stephanie Kallos thread through the whole novel the idea that people are chipped, cracked, broken, and that it is not a horrible thing to be so, for by being what and who we are, we fit together and make a mosaic of humanity, of family and of love. This book stirred inside me a compulsion to note the frailties of humans, of myself and those around me and to examine how we fit together. Now I cherish that knowledge and in my joy in this discovery I dream of being an author of understanding, to spread outward from myself this awareness of others. I wish to become a journalist, to speak with written words, to write what some can not say for themselves, to share with the world what it needs to know with candor, wit and truth.
I have always worked toward my goals, most of the time with a single minded intensity that leaves no room for failure; I am a passionate person by nature and once I commit myself to anything it is complete and whole hearted. I have committed myself to becoming a truth seeker and an author of stories of those whose souls are older than their years, to be a translator of lives and to be eventually, hopefully, a nurturer of understanding.
The first time I spun a story with words all my own, it was a breezy, sunny afternoon, not remarkable to anyone other than me. I remember sitting underneath a large willow tree, listening to the murmuring of the wind through the gracefully dancing leaves and feeling the need to capture the thoughts, the sensations that one moment inspired. The end result wasn’t great, must less above average; it was not even really eloquent, but it freed my mind to think in its own context, outside the classroom, to create and edit thoughts, day dreams and nightmares that would eventually turn into either poems or short stories that let out everything I could not. My love of reading had already led me to a wide array of interests and my imagination never ran out of things to describe when my pen touched paper or my fingers a keyboard. I began to write everything down, every silly little random thought, every dream and wish, recording my life in snippets of information that would have been meaningless to anyone other then myself. As my reading and my writing progressed, as I noticed more about the things around me over the years, I became driven by one particular dream, afflicted with the undeniable need to share the things in this life that so often go ignored, the stories so similar to mine and yet so utterly different. With this I slipped off the easy path that had been before me, stepping into a wilderness where I had to walk slowly and listen carefully to all that was around me, for it was people that I focused on, and about whom I wrote. This is where the uncomfortable part of my writing appears, for my life has been difficult to say the least, and, though I find it near impossible to write about my own past, I still experience the impulse, an inexplicable urge, to write about those I see around me.
I wish to share with the world the stories of what I have termed the ‘silent slaughter’, that condition both mental and physical that is nearly impossible to escape from, that changes from victim to victim but is purely the degradation of the soul and spirit, most simply put. I should know; I have lived through part of it. Otherwise I doubt I would have the tenacity or the arrogance to refer to it by a nickname, although there is no affection inside me for it. Most simply put, for the meaning of it changes with each story, it is being imprisoned by abuse of any kind, most especially when the abuser is one who society views with approval and believes can do no wrong.
This I know for truth, for I am an abuse victim and my freedom came at a very bitter price: my younger siblings. It was not merely the relationship of sister that was taken from me for I was their mother because our mother could parent no one nor had the will to do anything other then substance abuse and abuse to us. They, Alyssia, Brianna, Pilar, and Jacob, were my world but in exchange for my freedom I lost them five years ago and have not seen them since. I made the choice to leave my mother and stepfather and to be placed in foster care; I knew that it was the right thing to do even though my escape was bitter and guilty. There are many things I still do not remember because my own mind shelters me from those harsh realities, but I can say honestly that if I was still in the same position I doubt I would be alive today. I could not speak of them, of the nightmares that haunt me still to this day, but in my writing, I found a release, a freedom that I had never known before and it became everything to me as I began my first year of high school and struggled with depression. That, more then anything else, was the reason why I joined my high school’s newspaper; even four years ago I had a vague idea of what I wished to do. I could not write about myself for that required something I was not able to give, but I could and would write about everything and anything I saw around me, as I still do, in poems, short stories and other forms, although the majority of such writing are private, since they are often harsh, brutal and shied away from.
I am no mover or shaker, I am not out to radically change the world, or to rebel against it; but I will be heard, I hope some will really listen for I do not speak only for myself. I wish to write, to share the lives of people who on the outside seem ordinary but in truth are remarkable, incredible, heroes in their own way. I fear that I may not quite be able to do this yet; for me it has always been either complete silence or painfully unvarnished truth, and I have yet to learn the boundaries in this search for truth in the human story.
My ideas and aspirations center around the silent ones of my generation, of the older generations and of the generations yet to come. I wish to speak, to interpret in a way, for those who can not or do not have the strength to speak for themselves. I am no bottom feeder to take their stories and build a name for myself on the pity they might invoke, this is not my wish, for I have been in their place, but I do want to be a muckraker in a unique way. I want to learn of their stories and expose them to a world that needs to hear them. In Broken For You, Stephanie Kallos thread through the whole novel the idea that people are chipped, cracked, broken, and that it is not a horrible thing to be so, for by being what and who we are, we fit together and make a mosaic of humanity, of family and of love. This book stirred inside me a compulsion to note the frailties of humans, of myself and those around me and to examine how we fit together. Now I cherish that knowledge and in my joy in this discovery I dream of being an author of understanding, to spread outward from myself this awareness of others. I wish to become a journalist, to speak with written words, to write what some can not say for themselves, to share with the world what it needs to know with candor, wit and truth.
I have always worked toward my goals, most of the time with a single minded intensity that leaves no room for failure; I am a passionate person by nature and once I commit myself to anything it is complete and whole hearted. I have committed myself to becoming a truth seeker and an author of stories of those whose souls are older than their years, to be a translator of lives and to be eventually, hopefully, a nurturer of understanding.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Words and Feelings
Words can hurt.
but in my experience feelings hurt more. Words may mean a lot, but they can also be utterly empty, devoid of any trappings outside of what inflection might be added by the tone of the speaker. And on paper, they can be static, empty, just black marks on the page with nothing behind them. We are the ones that make words have meaning, and sometimes, even to us, they are only the little black marks. But feelings are feelings, no escape there.
I am use to hiding, lost behind a mask of carefully chosen words, expression's, reactions. It was not a mask like the traditional ones, it wasn't one fixed painting that covered my face; no more like A.I. I suppose, having several 'modes' on hold to summon at will, at need for them. I didn't show myself, who I was was for me alone. And the feelings were ignored, pushed away. After all that was the easy way to live. You have to understand something, in foster care you are moved around all the time, there was no constant in my life, nothing really stable outside my school. And I had learned from a young age that people didn't like to be around you if you were upset or needy or anything that they didn't want to deal with. I fear rejection, it is what scares me like nothing else in life, so I worked hard to make sure I could be what everyone around me wanted or needed, I shielded how I really felt and kept all my feelings to myself, showing only the outside. Only the good girl.
"Good girl", "smart girl"
"You make us so proud girl"
Role model, hard life
But really nothing, really little done
Not as good as thoughts make her
Not as strong, not as happy
Smile girl, smile bright
All eyes are fixed on you tonight
Here's your chance, don't mess up
Faultless girl, be that girl
Prove yourself and please the world
Hard worker, curtsy sweet
Toss your curls, endearing, kind and giving
Give you all and hope for...
For pride that makes you feel like a lie
For smiles that fade, that die
For praise that weighs down upon you
Have to be better, have to do more
Better girl, be better girl
Dont' let those good thoughts die
Time running out, almost time to be
Be forgotten, one day you're gone, simply gone
But then that's nothing new, you already knew
Loneliness is already you
~Good Girl
Don't let those good thoughts die.
I worked so hard on making sure that the thoughts of others in esteem of me would not fade but I forgot to support my own self, to focus on what I needed, on what was needed for me to be okay and happy. I relied on the modes of automatic reaction for years, even my tears felt programmed in because I made the world muted, everything I felt came out in art, in writing, in the characters I wrote or poetry. It was enough for me because it was all that I allowed myself. Yet lately people want more, people want what is beneath the masks, even if they don't know that the masks are there. And the masks in part aren't there, I've worn them so long they have become a part of me.
But ever since I started writing my autobiography, purging the darkness from my mind, freeing myself with the truth of my words; I have lived more, felt more. Everything has changed this year, I have grown and become younger at the same time, mature and a child, paradoxical in so many ways that is what I am.
I am alive, I am burning, my soul is on the fire of life, I know joy and laughter and pain and sorrow, and I feel it. I feel everything about me. The other day when it was raining I left my umbrella on purpose inside and went and just stood in the rain, feeling the sensation of the rain drops falling on my skin, covering and dripping down me. I tilt my face back in the sun and let my eyes close as the music of the city fills my ears. I'll get on the bus that takes the long way around the city rather then the direct rout just to see more, to reveal in the assault on the senses that it is to live here. I love and fear and cry and pout and tease and laugh.
Living is such a complex, crazy thing that we do.
And some days are worse then others, some days are horrible, others are wonderful.
Thursday was one of my horrible days, the worst I've had since the New Year, the worst in a very long time actually. It started out okay, really it did, just spending time with my boyfriend, chatting. But the closer it gets to me going to him, going and becoming part of his life in a way that I haven't yet, the more nervous I get. After all I have never met a guys family before, how am I going to fit into his life? I was suddenly near tears and thinking I shouldn't step onto that plane, because right now, as we are right now, I'm his dream girl, his perfect match. Oh I'm far from perfect in so many ways and he knows it, but I'm perfect for him in his eyes. What if by going to him I ended that? I was so afraid and I've been doing all this research about how to act with family. I've been over thinking things the way I always do. But mon couer was patient and understanding enough to talk to me, to talk through those fears and calm me down from tears to reasonable sanity.
However school wasn't going to keep things that way. I've been dealing with red tape bs for months now because of verification of my FASFA and other silly little things, but it was really messing up things. I was actually considering dropping out of school, giving up and trying to find something more 'practical' to do.
I went to my Figure Drawing class and spent the first half fighting back tears and convinced I couldn't draw. But then it came time for my homework to be reviewed and my teacher asked me what was wrong. See, these past few weeks I've been alive and all but quivering in classes, passionate and ready to go. So eager, so on fire to learn, to work, to go and grow. He noticed that was off on Thursday so I told him some and he gave me the largest compliment I could have ever received. He told me I couldn't give up and stop, that I was one of the few students he saw each semester he knew would make it as a real artist in this world, because of my passion, my love of what I did, that I had so much promise and I needed to keep going. Art isn't easy, but it would be worth it.
I went back to work then, actually working instead of fighting tears and produced something half decent. But I still felt hallow, raw and overwhelmed, it was the burn out of weeks upon weeks of frustration, fear, helplessness and loneliness in a part as well. My best friend and my boyfriend are both hours away from me, its all to easy to feel lonely here, in a city of so many when I don't have anyone to be with. I need touch, I need to be held, I know that, I'm human. I took the long bus ride home and sat in the dark, listening to music as the city moved past me and I tried to struggle with the feelings that were filling me and crying out. I made it up to my room before I broke down into tears again and cried before calling Neil to talk. I said goodbye to him soon after and cried myself to sleep, going without dinner instead to just get some sleep and try and have a brighter look the next day.
And you know what, it worked.
Friday I got up out of bed even though I didn't really want to. My roommate went with me and I faced the issues, I dealt with things and they turned around, turned out okay. I made things better for myself.
I keep saying I want things to get easier and they do, and then something else becomes hard, because, as sucky as it is that is life, its the endless cycle that we live in. And we as humans struggle through it, with the help of those I love. A friend here in the city told me I have to learn to ask for help and take it without feeling bad about it; no one can make it through this crazy world by themselves, just won't happen. Living is an art, I still haven't perfected my execution by any means, but I'm learning, as we all are.
So here are my little black marks on the page. My words, they could be empty, they could be crammed full of meaning and emotion. I know what they are for me, what are they for you? I can't decide that, only you can. I guess I'll keep feeling, because the mask has slipped and I'm coming out, are you?
but in my experience feelings hurt more. Words may mean a lot, but they can also be utterly empty, devoid of any trappings outside of what inflection might be added by the tone of the speaker. And on paper, they can be static, empty, just black marks on the page with nothing behind them. We are the ones that make words have meaning, and sometimes, even to us, they are only the little black marks. But feelings are feelings, no escape there.
I am use to hiding, lost behind a mask of carefully chosen words, expression's, reactions. It was not a mask like the traditional ones, it wasn't one fixed painting that covered my face; no more like A.I. I suppose, having several 'modes' on hold to summon at will, at need for them. I didn't show myself, who I was was for me alone. And the feelings were ignored, pushed away. After all that was the easy way to live. You have to understand something, in foster care you are moved around all the time, there was no constant in my life, nothing really stable outside my school. And I had learned from a young age that people didn't like to be around you if you were upset or needy or anything that they didn't want to deal with. I fear rejection, it is what scares me like nothing else in life, so I worked hard to make sure I could be what everyone around me wanted or needed, I shielded how I really felt and kept all my feelings to myself, showing only the outside. Only the good girl.
"Good girl", "smart girl"
"You make us so proud girl"
Role model, hard life
But really nothing, really little done
Not as good as thoughts make her
Not as strong, not as happy
Smile girl, smile bright
All eyes are fixed on you tonight
Here's your chance, don't mess up
Faultless girl, be that girl
Prove yourself and please the world
Hard worker, curtsy sweet
Toss your curls, endearing, kind and giving
Give you all and hope for...
For pride that makes you feel like a lie
For smiles that fade, that die
For praise that weighs down upon you
Have to be better, have to do more
Better girl, be better girl
Dont' let those good thoughts die
Time running out, almost time to be
Be forgotten, one day you're gone, simply gone
But then that's nothing new, you already knew
Loneliness is already you
~Good Girl
Don't let those good thoughts die.
I worked so hard on making sure that the thoughts of others in esteem of me would not fade but I forgot to support my own self, to focus on what I needed, on what was needed for me to be okay and happy. I relied on the modes of automatic reaction for years, even my tears felt programmed in because I made the world muted, everything I felt came out in art, in writing, in the characters I wrote or poetry. It was enough for me because it was all that I allowed myself. Yet lately people want more, people want what is beneath the masks, even if they don't know that the masks are there. And the masks in part aren't there, I've worn them so long they have become a part of me.
But ever since I started writing my autobiography, purging the darkness from my mind, freeing myself with the truth of my words; I have lived more, felt more. Everything has changed this year, I have grown and become younger at the same time, mature and a child, paradoxical in so many ways that is what I am.
I am alive, I am burning, my soul is on the fire of life, I know joy and laughter and pain and sorrow, and I feel it. I feel everything about me. The other day when it was raining I left my umbrella on purpose inside and went and just stood in the rain, feeling the sensation of the rain drops falling on my skin, covering and dripping down me. I tilt my face back in the sun and let my eyes close as the music of the city fills my ears. I'll get on the bus that takes the long way around the city rather then the direct rout just to see more, to reveal in the assault on the senses that it is to live here. I love and fear and cry and pout and tease and laugh.
Living is such a complex, crazy thing that we do.
And some days are worse then others, some days are horrible, others are wonderful.
Thursday was one of my horrible days, the worst I've had since the New Year, the worst in a very long time actually. It started out okay, really it did, just spending time with my boyfriend, chatting. But the closer it gets to me going to him, going and becoming part of his life in a way that I haven't yet, the more nervous I get. After all I have never met a guys family before, how am I going to fit into his life? I was suddenly near tears and thinking I shouldn't step onto that plane, because right now, as we are right now, I'm his dream girl, his perfect match. Oh I'm far from perfect in so many ways and he knows it, but I'm perfect for him in his eyes. What if by going to him I ended that? I was so afraid and I've been doing all this research about how to act with family. I've been over thinking things the way I always do. But mon couer was patient and understanding enough to talk to me, to talk through those fears and calm me down from tears to reasonable sanity.
However school wasn't going to keep things that way. I've been dealing with red tape bs for months now because of verification of my FASFA and other silly little things, but it was really messing up things. I was actually considering dropping out of school, giving up and trying to find something more 'practical' to do.
I went to my Figure Drawing class and spent the first half fighting back tears and convinced I couldn't draw. But then it came time for my homework to be reviewed and my teacher asked me what was wrong. See, these past few weeks I've been alive and all but quivering in classes, passionate and ready to go. So eager, so on fire to learn, to work, to go and grow. He noticed that was off on Thursday so I told him some and he gave me the largest compliment I could have ever received. He told me I couldn't give up and stop, that I was one of the few students he saw each semester he knew would make it as a real artist in this world, because of my passion, my love of what I did, that I had so much promise and I needed to keep going. Art isn't easy, but it would be worth it.
I went back to work then, actually working instead of fighting tears and produced something half decent. But I still felt hallow, raw and overwhelmed, it was the burn out of weeks upon weeks of frustration, fear, helplessness and loneliness in a part as well. My best friend and my boyfriend are both hours away from me, its all to easy to feel lonely here, in a city of so many when I don't have anyone to be with. I need touch, I need to be held, I know that, I'm human. I took the long bus ride home and sat in the dark, listening to music as the city moved past me and I tried to struggle with the feelings that were filling me and crying out. I made it up to my room before I broke down into tears again and cried before calling Neil to talk. I said goodbye to him soon after and cried myself to sleep, going without dinner instead to just get some sleep and try and have a brighter look the next day.
And you know what, it worked.
Friday I got up out of bed even though I didn't really want to. My roommate went with me and I faced the issues, I dealt with things and they turned around, turned out okay. I made things better for myself.
I keep saying I want things to get easier and they do, and then something else becomes hard, because, as sucky as it is that is life, its the endless cycle that we live in. And we as humans struggle through it, with the help of those I love. A friend here in the city told me I have to learn to ask for help and take it without feeling bad about it; no one can make it through this crazy world by themselves, just won't happen. Living is an art, I still haven't perfected my execution by any means, but I'm learning, as we all are.
So here are my little black marks on the page. My words, they could be empty, they could be crammed full of meaning and emotion. I know what they are for me, what are they for you? I can't decide that, only you can. I guess I'll keep feeling, because the mask has slipped and I'm coming out, are you?
Friday, February 20, 2009
City Reflections
I’m on a bus right now, driving through parts of San Francisco I have never seen. Its like a whole new world. This is my new home, I can see a church bell tower rising in the distance, a few miles away and it looks almost like it belongs in a fairy tale with smaller flanking towers, points toward the sky topped by crosses. San Fran is a living, growing and changing place, there is so much life that even one who has lived here has yet to see it all. There is so much I do not know. We are closer to the church now, a large green lawn with people everywhere. The church is huge, a might work of art. And we pass it just as quickly as we do everything else. Nothing in life stays still, I am learning this.
Life is a living art, it is something that we can only do, there is no way to really control what happens to you, where you go, what you do. Because its all one crazy, thrown together, insane design that is pulled by the strings by something no one knows. God is only a word at times.
The sun is bright outside the bus, its warm as February draws to an end. Yet inside we are given tinted windows and air conditioning. Trying to mark and changed what this world is will never really work. It will only alter slightly, not completely. And that’s okay, I wouldn’t want to be able to change anything drastically because after all you would most likely miss out on some great things if you could change the design. No one can see the design for their lives, just like a work of art does not know how it will look at the end. There can be the basic lines, the outline or placement lines, to give just the very basic idea, like the soul of the drawing is in those first few marks. Yet even the creator, the artist does not know what the art will be at the end of it. That is why I find it hard to believe that what ever higher power there is really has our lives mapped out for us. Its more, they give the paint, the pencil and we, the paper, the clay, we and the things given to us, make what we are.
Certainly, I thought I could plan and make my life neat and as I liked it. I was going to go to school and graduate, I was going to take my siblings away from my mom and live my life without a romantic other. I never needed anyone, at least I didn’t think so. Then design put Neil in my life, we could have totally ignored each other, but what are the odds that on a site with over two thousand members we two would notice each other and be drawn together. That we would both privately have crushes on each other that neither wanted to admit to.
Life is crazy indeed sometimes.
“I waited for you, today. But you didn’t show, no no no….I needed you today, so where did you go? You told me to call, said you’d be there, and though I haven’t seen you are you still there. I cry out with no reply and I can’t feel you by my side. So I hold tight to what I know, you’re here….and I’m never alone”
I am listening to that song, remembering. I use to think of it as my song for Eric, his death happened five years ago tomorrow. Hard to believe that much time has really passed. But it has regardless. I realize now the song is more about holding on to a feeling, a love even when the person is gone then it is about being alone. When I hear it it reminds me of one of my old foster homes, Melinda’s, or rather the Porters. Their kitchen, I would listen to this song while I did dishes, putting it into the little cream stereo that was attached to the underside of a cabinet. I remember the tiles of the cream and brown color counters, the stove to the right and the long island on the left. During the summer that long island counter would be piled with fruit and veggies from the garden outside. The sun pouring through the window over the sink, the laminated floor that I mopped often. The fridge with magnets from all manner of things and covered with the art work of her grandkids. During Thanksgiving break trashcans would be pulled out and potatoes were peeled by the bag, two, three, four, six bags at least. Cooking and baking day after day. A whole week of cooking all to get ready for one day that normally wasn’t fun anyways.
I remember how out of place I was there.
But then I have never really been ’in place’ I am nineteen but what many have called an old soul. I am odd and silly and sweet and tormented. Many have called me beautiful, and it makes me wonder. Brilliant, beautiful and broken, isn’t that what every guy dreams of? Isn’t that the stories make seem like the best type of girl. Then why was I shunned, outcasted? I was angry and hurt for years that people would call me the first two, know or see parts of the last and now do anything, not want me.
But now I realize why. Its because I would not let myself be shown that way. I pushed off the beautiful, I hid the brilliant outside of class and the broken, well the broken I held to me and shielded from everyone, from everything. Because my brokenness was for me alone. Broken For You, my favorite book, everyone is broken inside, little cracks that make us human rather then perfect. But we all hide it, we do. I have just in this past year found people with whom I can be broken and they are too. And they are okay with that, just like I am okay with it now. Its like coming into your own, realizing that there are basic human truths that unite us all. I just wish I had learned earlier.
No, that’s not true. Because if I had I would not have learned the hard lessons I learned during high school. There are many kinds of strength. First I had the strength to live through horror. Then I had the strength to rise above it, and then the strength to not regret it, the strength to move forward. But now I have the strength to move forward, to live for me and have no regrets, and with that the strength to know, life isn’t going to get easier, to know I have so much more to learn. Life never stops trying to teach us more, that’s part of the design, no one is a finished piece of art until their deaths, there is no end to art. I can see the bay now, the water and the cities on the slopes of the hills across it. Its odd to think that now I basically live on a island.
There is darkness and light in everything, there is strength in everyone, just as there is weakness and courage and cowardice. Everything is a balance, that is what is part of the design. And the design helps us move around, change the elements of our life until we get the perfect composition, the right people, things and goals in our lives. And then it moves ever so slightly, rather like a model posing before an artist. There is no way to really freeze the model so they don’t move, just like life they don’t stop moving, ever so slightly, changing the lighting, the shapes, the composition. Instead of being against those changes now I am for them, I welcome them. Heart break might be ahead of me or bliss, anything and everything, for every low there will be an equally great high. I use to be afraid to feel to much, especially after Eric died, because I never wanted to feel that low again, or worse. It was easier to numb myself to the world around me, to let people do as they wish and try to push past it.
Now though there is no way I can go back to the numb girl. I am alive, my soul burns inside me and I love and laugh. No regrets.
Life is a living art, it is something that we can only do, there is no way to really control what happens to you, where you go, what you do. Because its all one crazy, thrown together, insane design that is pulled by the strings by something no one knows. God is only a word at times.
The sun is bright outside the bus, its warm as February draws to an end. Yet inside we are given tinted windows and air conditioning. Trying to mark and changed what this world is will never really work. It will only alter slightly, not completely. And that’s okay, I wouldn’t want to be able to change anything drastically because after all you would most likely miss out on some great things if you could change the design. No one can see the design for their lives, just like a work of art does not know how it will look at the end. There can be the basic lines, the outline or placement lines, to give just the very basic idea, like the soul of the drawing is in those first few marks. Yet even the creator, the artist does not know what the art will be at the end of it. That is why I find it hard to believe that what ever higher power there is really has our lives mapped out for us. Its more, they give the paint, the pencil and we, the paper, the clay, we and the things given to us, make what we are.
Certainly, I thought I could plan and make my life neat and as I liked it. I was going to go to school and graduate, I was going to take my siblings away from my mom and live my life without a romantic other. I never needed anyone, at least I didn’t think so. Then design put Neil in my life, we could have totally ignored each other, but what are the odds that on a site with over two thousand members we two would notice each other and be drawn together. That we would both privately have crushes on each other that neither wanted to admit to.
Life is crazy indeed sometimes.
“I waited for you, today. But you didn’t show, no no no….I needed you today, so where did you go? You told me to call, said you’d be there, and though I haven’t seen you are you still there. I cry out with no reply and I can’t feel you by my side. So I hold tight to what I know, you’re here….and I’m never alone”
I am listening to that song, remembering. I use to think of it as my song for Eric, his death happened five years ago tomorrow. Hard to believe that much time has really passed. But it has regardless. I realize now the song is more about holding on to a feeling, a love even when the person is gone then it is about being alone. When I hear it it reminds me of one of my old foster homes, Melinda’s, or rather the Porters. Their kitchen, I would listen to this song while I did dishes, putting it into the little cream stereo that was attached to the underside of a cabinet. I remember the tiles of the cream and brown color counters, the stove to the right and the long island on the left. During the summer that long island counter would be piled with fruit and veggies from the garden outside. The sun pouring through the window over the sink, the laminated floor that I mopped often. The fridge with magnets from all manner of things and covered with the art work of her grandkids. During Thanksgiving break trashcans would be pulled out and potatoes were peeled by the bag, two, three, four, six bags at least. Cooking and baking day after day. A whole week of cooking all to get ready for one day that normally wasn’t fun anyways.
I remember how out of place I was there.
But then I have never really been ’in place’ I am nineteen but what many have called an old soul. I am odd and silly and sweet and tormented. Many have called me beautiful, and it makes me wonder. Brilliant, beautiful and broken, isn’t that what every guy dreams of? Isn’t that the stories make seem like the best type of girl. Then why was I shunned, outcasted? I was angry and hurt for years that people would call me the first two, know or see parts of the last and now do anything, not want me.
But now I realize why. Its because I would not let myself be shown that way. I pushed off the beautiful, I hid the brilliant outside of class and the broken, well the broken I held to me and shielded from everyone, from everything. Because my brokenness was for me alone. Broken For You, my favorite book, everyone is broken inside, little cracks that make us human rather then perfect. But we all hide it, we do. I have just in this past year found people with whom I can be broken and they are too. And they are okay with that, just like I am okay with it now. Its like coming into your own, realizing that there are basic human truths that unite us all. I just wish I had learned earlier.
No, that’s not true. Because if I had I would not have learned the hard lessons I learned during high school. There are many kinds of strength. First I had the strength to live through horror. Then I had the strength to rise above it, and then the strength to not regret it, the strength to move forward. But now I have the strength to move forward, to live for me and have no regrets, and with that the strength to know, life isn’t going to get easier, to know I have so much more to learn. Life never stops trying to teach us more, that’s part of the design, no one is a finished piece of art until their deaths, there is no end to art. I can see the bay now, the water and the cities on the slopes of the hills across it. Its odd to think that now I basically live on a island.
There is darkness and light in everything, there is strength in everyone, just as there is weakness and courage and cowardice. Everything is a balance, that is what is part of the design. And the design helps us move around, change the elements of our life until we get the perfect composition, the right people, things and goals in our lives. And then it moves ever so slightly, rather like a model posing before an artist. There is no way to really freeze the model so they don’t move, just like life they don’t stop moving, ever so slightly, changing the lighting, the shapes, the composition. Instead of being against those changes now I am for them, I welcome them. Heart break might be ahead of me or bliss, anything and everything, for every low there will be an equally great high. I use to be afraid to feel to much, especially after Eric died, because I never wanted to feel that low again, or worse. It was easier to numb myself to the world around me, to let people do as they wish and try to push past it.
Now though there is no way I can go back to the numb girl. I am alive, my soul burns inside me and I love and laugh. No regrets.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Reflections of Love
I am behind again, on blogging.
Its hard to keep up with this when there is so much else going on in my life, so much else that needs, wants and takes my attention. What can I say I am a busy girl. But here, I am giving this blog over to love, to the Valentines Day that just passed, and to the new love of my life.
I have never had a Valentines Day before during which I was involved with someone, it just has never been for me, on the day of love and lovers it never felt right to be with someone I didn't love that way. The only person I ever loved in that manner was Eric and after he died, nearly five years ago now, just a few more days, Saturday, I didn't want to love anyone else.
I thought Eric was the one meant for me, he had grown up with me, as much as anyone could sense I moved around so much, he had been my strength and encouragement when I believed that all I had before me was death. He was my angel of mercy in so many ways, I still remember him, his strength and his love and belief in me. He is what has kept me going during times these past few years when I thought I had nothing left to live for. But he isn't here anymore. A friend last year, around this time, snapped at me actually, telling me that I should get over him, that it had been four years since his death and that I moped too much. How could I not when he is the one person in my life up to that point that I knew, with no questions or doubts, loved me for who I was and not for what I could give. He loved the person beneath the facade, the mask I gave the world and he never let me hide from him.
Its odd to think that now I am older then him, I'm nineteen while he never reached that age, he died shortly after his eighteenth birthday. I have my whole life ahead of me, his ended. Its bittersweet, to think of this, to know I will keep living and enjoying my life now thanks in many ways to him, and that he will never have that. But he would be happy for me, I know Eric would. He wanted me to live and to really live, not just be what I thought people wanted or expected. I know he wished he could give me the courage to live without the mask and the guarding walls and shields I built up between me and the world after it had hurt me so badly. But he couldn't give me that, no matter how much both of us wanted it. Because that strength had to come from inside me, not him. He gave me a gift of love and understand and acceptance. When I had it taken away, the one person who had offered that with no strings attached, with no hoops to jump through, the one person in my life who really did seem to care about me, even the horribly broken parts, I lost it. When he died I thought my world ended, I thought I would never love like I had loved him.
And in a way I won't, because he was my first love, he was the first man to ever be in my life in any major way. He was my first crush, the man I dreamed of growing up with and who I imagined when I waltzed with the air. But I never told him I loved him, I never kissed him, there is so much that lay between us, so much that happened, and yet at the same time, so much that did. Such an odd mix of things now that I reflect back upon it.
This last year I have found love in many ways. I have found friends who have been the balm to my soul.
-Jill, one of the most amazing people I have ever met who has never once, no matter how odd or silly I am, had an issue with me, who refuses to put up with any bs and is one of the most talented writers I know.
-Kate, one of the sweetest people I have ever had the honor to meet, a amazing and intelligent girl who looks up to me and made me realize that I could be an inspiration to others without being anything else other then what I am.
-My aunt and uncle in Texas, who give me the first real safety net and support system I have ever had. Who love me, parent me and worry about me, they have shown me love and care in ways I never dared to dream about. And they can't wait to have me come home again, yes, they have given me the one thing I have longed for my whole life, a real home.
-April, my best friend, my confidant about everything, the girl who knows me better then I know myself and is like the older sister I never had. She is smart, funny and caring.
-And Neil.
Neil, what to say about him? That is so hard to know, he is my heart now, mon couer, mon voluer, he stole my heart, my breath and my dreams. I can not imagine a day now that does not include him in some manner. He is with me with every breath that I breath and every step that I take, and I take them, toward him, toward our future together. Because to imagine my life without him in the years to come would be more painful then I could bear. There is fear there too, what if, what if he leaves, what if he dies, stolen from me in the way that Eric was. There is the fear of the 'curse' I have thought my life was tainted with, to lose all those I love. But now, now this year, and the year passed, I have learned to open up my heart, to accept more people in and to trust. I trust him with my dreams, with my future and I give him my forever.
To love is a great and terrible thing, its beauty is immense and the pain that could come, that hovers just waiting to descend is scary. But for the moments when we are together, when I am with those I love, with Jill, April, Kate and my family outside them, when I am with Neil, those moments of joy and peace and right, are worth every risk I take by loving them.
So from now on Valentines Day is going to be a day that is celebrated by me, not just for mon couer, my lover and future, but also for my family, my friends who are my soul's family. Because on the day of love, I rejoice in the love that has filled my life and showed me that while at times I may be lonely, I will never be alone.
Its hard to keep up with this when there is so much else going on in my life, so much else that needs, wants and takes my attention. What can I say I am a busy girl. But here, I am giving this blog over to love, to the Valentines Day that just passed, and to the new love of my life.
I have never had a Valentines Day before during which I was involved with someone, it just has never been for me, on the day of love and lovers it never felt right to be with someone I didn't love that way. The only person I ever loved in that manner was Eric and after he died, nearly five years ago now, just a few more days, Saturday, I didn't want to love anyone else.
I thought Eric was the one meant for me, he had grown up with me, as much as anyone could sense I moved around so much, he had been my strength and encouragement when I believed that all I had before me was death. He was my angel of mercy in so many ways, I still remember him, his strength and his love and belief in me. He is what has kept me going during times these past few years when I thought I had nothing left to live for. But he isn't here anymore. A friend last year, around this time, snapped at me actually, telling me that I should get over him, that it had been four years since his death and that I moped too much. How could I not when he is the one person in my life up to that point that I knew, with no questions or doubts, loved me for who I was and not for what I could give. He loved the person beneath the facade, the mask I gave the world and he never let me hide from him.
Its odd to think that now I am older then him, I'm nineteen while he never reached that age, he died shortly after his eighteenth birthday. I have my whole life ahead of me, his ended. Its bittersweet, to think of this, to know I will keep living and enjoying my life now thanks in many ways to him, and that he will never have that. But he would be happy for me, I know Eric would. He wanted me to live and to really live, not just be what I thought people wanted or expected. I know he wished he could give me the courage to live without the mask and the guarding walls and shields I built up between me and the world after it had hurt me so badly. But he couldn't give me that, no matter how much both of us wanted it. Because that strength had to come from inside me, not him. He gave me a gift of love and understand and acceptance. When I had it taken away, the one person who had offered that with no strings attached, with no hoops to jump through, the one person in my life who really did seem to care about me, even the horribly broken parts, I lost it. When he died I thought my world ended, I thought I would never love like I had loved him.
And in a way I won't, because he was my first love, he was the first man to ever be in my life in any major way. He was my first crush, the man I dreamed of growing up with and who I imagined when I waltzed with the air. But I never told him I loved him, I never kissed him, there is so much that lay between us, so much that happened, and yet at the same time, so much that did. Such an odd mix of things now that I reflect back upon it.
This last year I have found love in many ways. I have found friends who have been the balm to my soul.
-Jill, one of the most amazing people I have ever met who has never once, no matter how odd or silly I am, had an issue with me, who refuses to put up with any bs and is one of the most talented writers I know.
-Kate, one of the sweetest people I have ever had the honor to meet, a amazing and intelligent girl who looks up to me and made me realize that I could be an inspiration to others without being anything else other then what I am.
-My aunt and uncle in Texas, who give me the first real safety net and support system I have ever had. Who love me, parent me and worry about me, they have shown me love and care in ways I never dared to dream about. And they can't wait to have me come home again, yes, they have given me the one thing I have longed for my whole life, a real home.
-April, my best friend, my confidant about everything, the girl who knows me better then I know myself and is like the older sister I never had. She is smart, funny and caring.
-And Neil.
Neil, what to say about him? That is so hard to know, he is my heart now, mon couer, mon voluer, he stole my heart, my breath and my dreams. I can not imagine a day now that does not include him in some manner. He is with me with every breath that I breath and every step that I take, and I take them, toward him, toward our future together. Because to imagine my life without him in the years to come would be more painful then I could bear. There is fear there too, what if, what if he leaves, what if he dies, stolen from me in the way that Eric was. There is the fear of the 'curse' I have thought my life was tainted with, to lose all those I love. But now, now this year, and the year passed, I have learned to open up my heart, to accept more people in and to trust. I trust him with my dreams, with my future and I give him my forever.
To love is a great and terrible thing, its beauty is immense and the pain that could come, that hovers just waiting to descend is scary. But for the moments when we are together, when I am with those I love, with Jill, April, Kate and my family outside them, when I am with Neil, those moments of joy and peace and right, are worth every risk I take by loving them.
So from now on Valentines Day is going to be a day that is celebrated by me, not just for mon couer, my lover and future, but also for my family, my friends who are my soul's family. Because on the day of love, I rejoice in the love that has filled my life and showed me that while at times I may be lonely, I will never be alone.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Darkness Into Light
She was running, lost in the darkness that threatened to surround her. Here was her home, was her truth. The darkness that surrounded her was the darkness that filled her life, that plagued her waking moments. She could never escape from it, not fully. She had been a fool to think otherwise.
Yet still she ran, her feet pounding against the pavement, sounding in her ears, filling the empty void that wrapped around her like a blanket to muffle out all sensation. Only it didn't, because she could still feel, still smell and hear and long. She felt afraid and alone and overwhelmed. She smelled the stagnation of the darkness, the mold of a place kept in a unnatural state of no movement. She could hear her rattling, gasping breathes as she fled. She could feel the the chill of the air, the coldness that came from the depths of despair. She was possessed by this darkness, it was who and what she was. So she ran, and ran, her footsteps pounding into the ground beneath her, a ground that seemed to be no different then the air around her, her wide eyes were sightless, for here, there was no sight, nothing, nothing but the darkness and the cold and the frozen feelings that were thawing and ripping through like Furries talons.
She was at the mercy of this dark core, but she would not freeze her heart, because to do that would be to loose hope. Hope, it came with her footsteps, with the feel of her feet hitting against the ground. Light entered her world, soft and gray, it was so faint, so wispy it felt almost like a teasing rather then true light. It was the faintest color allowed. But it meant the uthna was over, the darkest part of her night had passed. And she lived, and felt and breathed. She had survived and she would keep running. Running toward the light that teased her with its soft glow.
Light increased, steadily, slowly, small increments filled the world around her until it was no longer darkness but dawn she ran through and instead of fleeing she was hurrying, running toward something someone. Hope gave her wings to her feet as she kept going, the wind of her movement tossing back her dark curls, her pale cheeks flushed with the exercise of her hurry.
She stumbled then, almost falling to her feet and then arms came around her, catching her to them. Holding her close. She panted, her lips parted, her body trembling. Her legs pulsed almost by themselves it seemed after so long running. Yet she burrowed into the warmth of the arms that held her, felt the heat of the man who held her, the heat of his heart, his love. It burned through her frozen figure, thawing the last of the ice that held her heart in its hold. Suddenly feelings burst through into her until she wept from them, the tears hot and stinging as they slipped down her frozen, pale cheeks. Her head tilted back, misty eyes going to the dark amber of the man who held her, who loved her.
They just looked at each other, staring into the soul of each other before his lips slowly lowered to hers and he took her into a sweet, gentle kiss that burned through everything, that left her with just him, her hope, her love, her future. He would be the strength she did not have. And she would be his.
Yet still she ran, her feet pounding against the pavement, sounding in her ears, filling the empty void that wrapped around her like a blanket to muffle out all sensation. Only it didn't, because she could still feel, still smell and hear and long. She felt afraid and alone and overwhelmed. She smelled the stagnation of the darkness, the mold of a place kept in a unnatural state of no movement. She could hear her rattling, gasping breathes as she fled. She could feel the the chill of the air, the coldness that came from the depths of despair. She was possessed by this darkness, it was who and what she was. So she ran, and ran, her footsteps pounding into the ground beneath her, a ground that seemed to be no different then the air around her, her wide eyes were sightless, for here, there was no sight, nothing, nothing but the darkness and the cold and the frozen feelings that were thawing and ripping through like Furries talons.
She was at the mercy of this dark core, but she would not freeze her heart, because to do that would be to loose hope. Hope, it came with her footsteps, with the feel of her feet hitting against the ground. Light entered her world, soft and gray, it was so faint, so wispy it felt almost like a teasing rather then true light. It was the faintest color allowed. But it meant the uthna was over, the darkest part of her night had passed. And she lived, and felt and breathed. She had survived and she would keep running. Running toward the light that teased her with its soft glow.
Light increased, steadily, slowly, small increments filled the world around her until it was no longer darkness but dawn she ran through and instead of fleeing she was hurrying, running toward something someone. Hope gave her wings to her feet as she kept going, the wind of her movement tossing back her dark curls, her pale cheeks flushed with the exercise of her hurry.
She stumbled then, almost falling to her feet and then arms came around her, catching her to them. Holding her close. She panted, her lips parted, her body trembling. Her legs pulsed almost by themselves it seemed after so long running. Yet she burrowed into the warmth of the arms that held her, felt the heat of the man who held her, the heat of his heart, his love. It burned through her frozen figure, thawing the last of the ice that held her heart in its hold. Suddenly feelings burst through into her until she wept from them, the tears hot and stinging as they slipped down her frozen, pale cheeks. Her head tilted back, misty eyes going to the dark amber of the man who held her, who loved her.
They just looked at each other, staring into the soul of each other before his lips slowly lowered to hers and he took her into a sweet, gentle kiss that burned through everything, that left her with just him, her hope, her love, her future. He would be the strength she did not have. And she would be his.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Reflections of Art
I am a painter.
Rather like the "I am woman" statements, it is a definite, simple statement of who I am.
It is part of my very being in so many ways. I paint with my words, with my eyes, I give birth to art but always, all drawings are buildings to painting. I paint with my voice, with my movements, I give birth to art in every way that I can. Because living is an art and I intend to be a master at it. And of course, as an artist, I am a painter by choice. So it is not apt for me to consider stating myself as a painter to be as elemental and true to my being as a woman.
I have not posted much of late, because life has caught up with me in many ways. And my talents and mind are focused on 'art' art rather then writing. I have created many pieces of art, rough things so far, but still art. I feel like I am coming alive within again, my soul is shinning out brightly as I am rediscovering my love, my truth. I come out of my three to six hour classes more energetic then I went into them, and say with friends "Great class" "I love school." You have to love it when you can do that no? I think that everyone should try to do something like this, not art, because it is not for everyone. But to find the thing that brings them to life inside and fuels their passions, makes their hearts race a bit and they are raring and eager to go to work or class. I mean, if the whole world did that then perhaps it would be a happier place. Granted that might not be great for things like waste management and such, but then, it isn't going to happen, so I will keep that as my own private version of a perfect world.
That's all for now. I'll write again soon.
Rather like the "I am woman" statements, it is a definite, simple statement of who I am.
It is part of my very being in so many ways. I paint with my words, with my eyes, I give birth to art but always, all drawings are buildings to painting. I paint with my voice, with my movements, I give birth to art in every way that I can. Because living is an art and I intend to be a master at it. And of course, as an artist, I am a painter by choice. So it is not apt for me to consider stating myself as a painter to be as elemental and true to my being as a woman.
I have not posted much of late, because life has caught up with me in many ways. And my talents and mind are focused on 'art' art rather then writing. I have created many pieces of art, rough things so far, but still art. I feel like I am coming alive within again, my soul is shinning out brightly as I am rediscovering my love, my truth. I come out of my three to six hour classes more energetic then I went into them, and say with friends "Great class" "I love school." You have to love it when you can do that no? I think that everyone should try to do something like this, not art, because it is not for everyone. But to find the thing that brings them to life inside and fuels their passions, makes their hearts race a bit and they are raring and eager to go to work or class. I mean, if the whole world did that then perhaps it would be a happier place. Granted that might not be great for things like waste management and such, but then, it isn't going to happen, so I will keep that as my own private version of a perfect world.
That's all for now. I'll write again soon.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Art and Love
For the love of art...
For the love of art I am here in San Francisco. For the love of art I am disappointing one aunt with her expectations, I thought that would be one of the hardest things I ever had to do because, well I mean its not like I like letting people down. But Brown, it just was not for me. I applied for kicks. Oh I know how bad that probably sounds, but I did. I didn't seriously think I would get in. I mean, I had decent grades and the whole foster care program and such, but I think what really won me that slot was my admissions essay. Leave it to the OCD impulse that hardly ever kicks in to rev me up into producing 15 drafts of my personal statement in one month to get it perfect. And then get into every school I applied to. Granted it did feel nice. But..it wasn't me.
Brown, how do I see it.
It is a ivy league school, one of the best in the country, it is well known, world wide, even for its prestige. But...what about the people who go there? Are they happy? Do they have good jobs? How many people actually make it through that whole experience of an undergraduate there and find something meaningful? Not many I bet, I mean, you are just one in a crowd, just a number. And its stuffy, its conformed and uniformed and old school. The reason this comes up today is that my aunt, who I had called happy about orientation and such here, had commented, once again. for at least the hundredth time it feels like, that it was such a pity I had not chosen Brown. She believes I'll regret it eventually.
No regrets, that's something I follow.
But I don't think I would ever regret it anyway. Brown, that experience, that lifestyle, just wasn't a brush that I chose for my canvas, it certainly added a touch of color to the white, but it isn't going to be a defining thing in my life. Because I don't think it fits with the other colors, the colors, the things in my life that I need to be happy. And I need art. I need art and life and love and joy and expression.
Art is expression, art is living. I am art by living, and as I said in a previous blog, this is my canvas, I chose the colors.
Why is it that others in our lives, parents, teachers, aunts and uncles, grandparents, anyone really with years ahead of us seem to think that they know better what to chose? I mean, I wouldn't want to go into my Still Life painting class and sit down next to somehow, who I don't know, and lets say they are a oil painter. Well what if I handed them a tube of acrylic paint and a brush meant just for water based paints? What could they do? Well they could paint, probably be slightly resentful to me, after all I had forced a choice upon them, one that didn't fit them, who they are as an artist and a person. I think that's part of what appeals to me at this school. The course work, the classes you take to get your degree aren't forced upon you. These teachers and directors know better then to force a brush or paint or choice upon anyone. Because each person is an artist crafting their own life.
And certainly, I'll know better how to create and expand on my life then anyone else.
My other two aunts are just happy for me, rather nice feeling. Aunt P (the one from Arizona), is happy but also pleased by this school being one of the top art colleges in the country, and all the other fancy things that they offer and are. The only art school with a university as part of its name, the great ranking, job placement rates, the programs they offer, their fame. I mean, she is thrilled that I am happy, but to someone who went to Harvard, you need some backing for things. However, I think she understands the most how I feel when Aunt C makes the comments about Brown. After all Aunt P , whenever Aunt C refers to her in conversation is "My sister who went to Harvard" while, I am now, "the niece that got into Brown". Isn't it lovely how much silly things like that mean to some people?
Aunt L, the one in Texas, however is just happy because I am happy. And she loves me and wants what is best for me as a person. She gives freely of herself, her love, her time, heck even her money, which I am trying to pay her back for. But she doesn't care, because to her, all she wants is to see me reach my dreams. And, because of that I think, her color of paint in my life is the strongest of them all.
I had a surprise color enter my life lately, one that I probably should of written about before, my Aunt C's mother in law. I have known her since I was a little girl, she was "Nonnie", a grandmother figure. And she had receded out of my life and now, suddenly is back in it and in a big way. She is proud of me, supportive. And giving. I was not expecting her to take much interest in me at all, after all we are not directly related in any way, just by affection really. However she came with me to my school, helped me get settled in the first day, put herself down as my emergency contact. Invited me to her house on weekends, and then yesterday, when my uncle came to drop off the rest of my stuff, sent a care package full of things. I was caught off guard by how much she had sent. And they were thoughtful things, things she knew I would like. I find it interesting how she, who I haven't seen for years until just Saturday, has picked up more about me as a person then my Aunt C who has been in my life basically all of it.
I hold a skeptism of my Aunt C I didn't before. As a more adult person I see her weaknesses, I still love her, and I cherish all the memories I have of her. However I do admit to having little patience with the rather Barbie doll like treatment she gives me at times. I am more then capable of chosing my own clothes and makeup styles, and I don't need her playing with my hair everytime she wishes. There is also always the pressure to conform to what she wants and needs. Last year, years before that I would have done that and happily for the most part. Because all I wanted to do was please other people, make them happy, ease things for them. Their colors dominated mine on the canvas of my life, I was not assertive enough.
This past year has taught me to stand up more, to boldly splash the color of myself across the canvas of this period in my life. Its my base coat, not white, but me, my personality, my wants, my dreams. Its the tint I use to start from like the gray wash that my still life teacher has us put on all our canvas' before we start that day's sitting. White is a color too you know, at least when it comes to painting, you don't want to start with it once you start the painting. And in life nohting starts off with a completely clean slate. So what base coat do you chose? Do you go with what your family wants? With expectations put upon you by those who are important in your life?
People, especially us young adults, as much as we would like to argue against this, wanting to be "our own" people and rebels to a certain extent; live up or down to the expectations put upon them. When I was in foster care I first noticed this, in Melinda's home. There is this overwhelming basic belief about foster kids, that they are "bad kids", dropouts, druggies, run aways, they are the low of the low and there is no point in thinking they will rise above things, because after all, they are just the 'white trash' right? Wrong. At least for me. I have seen so many wonderful, talented and brilliant teenage girls throw away their dreams, give up, and sink into what is expected of them. And I have been asked over and over by workers and foster parents what makes me so different. I honestly don't think I'm all that different, I just view things differently. For me, I always knew that I wanted college and nothing was going to keep me from that dream. I am stubborn, perhaps that is the root of it.
I am finally free of the expectations that were dismissive of me, of my mind and person and dreams. But now I find myself with people expecting a lot out of me. Because of course I had to challenge the system and rise above it. Now they all watch closely to see if I fall. But I won't, because my love, my art, they are my strength and there might be weakness in art as a steady job, but there is also the strength of doing what you love, what is right. And that strength will see me through all the hard times.
For the love of art I am here in San Francisco. For the love of art I am disappointing one aunt with her expectations, I thought that would be one of the hardest things I ever had to do because, well I mean its not like I like letting people down. But Brown, it just was not for me. I applied for kicks. Oh I know how bad that probably sounds, but I did. I didn't seriously think I would get in. I mean, I had decent grades and the whole foster care program and such, but I think what really won me that slot was my admissions essay. Leave it to the OCD impulse that hardly ever kicks in to rev me up into producing 15 drafts of my personal statement in one month to get it perfect. And then get into every school I applied to. Granted it did feel nice. But..it wasn't me.
Brown, how do I see it.
It is a ivy league school, one of the best in the country, it is well known, world wide, even for its prestige. But...what about the people who go there? Are they happy? Do they have good jobs? How many people actually make it through that whole experience of an undergraduate there and find something meaningful? Not many I bet, I mean, you are just one in a crowd, just a number. And its stuffy, its conformed and uniformed and old school. The reason this comes up today is that my aunt, who I had called happy about orientation and such here, had commented, once again. for at least the hundredth time it feels like, that it was such a pity I had not chosen Brown. She believes I'll regret it eventually.
No regrets, that's something I follow.
But I don't think I would ever regret it anyway. Brown, that experience, that lifestyle, just wasn't a brush that I chose for my canvas, it certainly added a touch of color to the white, but it isn't going to be a defining thing in my life. Because I don't think it fits with the other colors, the colors, the things in my life that I need to be happy. And I need art. I need art and life and love and joy and expression.
Art is expression, art is living. I am art by living, and as I said in a previous blog, this is my canvas, I chose the colors.
Why is it that others in our lives, parents, teachers, aunts and uncles, grandparents, anyone really with years ahead of us seem to think that they know better what to chose? I mean, I wouldn't want to go into my Still Life painting class and sit down next to somehow, who I don't know, and lets say they are a oil painter. Well what if I handed them a tube of acrylic paint and a brush meant just for water based paints? What could they do? Well they could paint, probably be slightly resentful to me, after all I had forced a choice upon them, one that didn't fit them, who they are as an artist and a person. I think that's part of what appeals to me at this school. The course work, the classes you take to get your degree aren't forced upon you. These teachers and directors know better then to force a brush or paint or choice upon anyone. Because each person is an artist crafting their own life.
And certainly, I'll know better how to create and expand on my life then anyone else.
My other two aunts are just happy for me, rather nice feeling. Aunt P (the one from Arizona), is happy but also pleased by this school being one of the top art colleges in the country, and all the other fancy things that they offer and are. The only art school with a university as part of its name, the great ranking, job placement rates, the programs they offer, their fame. I mean, she is thrilled that I am happy, but to someone who went to Harvard, you need some backing for things. However, I think she understands the most how I feel when Aunt C makes the comments about Brown. After all Aunt P , whenever Aunt C refers to her in conversation is "My sister who went to Harvard" while, I am now, "the niece that got into Brown". Isn't it lovely how much silly things like that mean to some people?
Aunt L, the one in Texas, however is just happy because I am happy. And she loves me and wants what is best for me as a person. She gives freely of herself, her love, her time, heck even her money, which I am trying to pay her back for. But she doesn't care, because to her, all she wants is to see me reach my dreams. And, because of that I think, her color of paint in my life is the strongest of them all.
I had a surprise color enter my life lately, one that I probably should of written about before, my Aunt C's mother in law. I have known her since I was a little girl, she was "Nonnie", a grandmother figure. And she had receded out of my life and now, suddenly is back in it and in a big way. She is proud of me, supportive. And giving. I was not expecting her to take much interest in me at all, after all we are not directly related in any way, just by affection really. However she came with me to my school, helped me get settled in the first day, put herself down as my emergency contact. Invited me to her house on weekends, and then yesterday, when my uncle came to drop off the rest of my stuff, sent a care package full of things. I was caught off guard by how much she had sent. And they were thoughtful things, things she knew I would like. I find it interesting how she, who I haven't seen for years until just Saturday, has picked up more about me as a person then my Aunt C who has been in my life basically all of it.
I hold a skeptism of my Aunt C I didn't before. As a more adult person I see her weaknesses, I still love her, and I cherish all the memories I have of her. However I do admit to having little patience with the rather Barbie doll like treatment she gives me at times. I am more then capable of chosing my own clothes and makeup styles, and I don't need her playing with my hair everytime she wishes. There is also always the pressure to conform to what she wants and needs. Last year, years before that I would have done that and happily for the most part. Because all I wanted to do was please other people, make them happy, ease things for them. Their colors dominated mine on the canvas of my life, I was not assertive enough.
This past year has taught me to stand up more, to boldly splash the color of myself across the canvas of this period in my life. Its my base coat, not white, but me, my personality, my wants, my dreams. Its the tint I use to start from like the gray wash that my still life teacher has us put on all our canvas' before we start that day's sitting. White is a color too you know, at least when it comes to painting, you don't want to start with it once you start the painting. And in life nohting starts off with a completely clean slate. So what base coat do you chose? Do you go with what your family wants? With expectations put upon you by those who are important in your life?
People, especially us young adults, as much as we would like to argue against this, wanting to be "our own" people and rebels to a certain extent; live up or down to the expectations put upon them. When I was in foster care I first noticed this, in Melinda's home. There is this overwhelming basic belief about foster kids, that they are "bad kids", dropouts, druggies, run aways, they are the low of the low and there is no point in thinking they will rise above things, because after all, they are just the 'white trash' right? Wrong. At least for me. I have seen so many wonderful, talented and brilliant teenage girls throw away their dreams, give up, and sink into what is expected of them. And I have been asked over and over by workers and foster parents what makes me so different. I honestly don't think I'm all that different, I just view things differently. For me, I always knew that I wanted college and nothing was going to keep me from that dream. I am stubborn, perhaps that is the root of it.
I am finally free of the expectations that were dismissive of me, of my mind and person and dreams. But now I find myself with people expecting a lot out of me. Because of course I had to challenge the system and rise above it. Now they all watch closely to see if I fall. But I won't, because my love, my art, they are my strength and there might be weakness in art as a steady job, but there is also the strength of doing what you love, what is right. And that strength will see me through all the hard times.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Traveling Reflections 2
I travel. A lot. Within the past two months I have been in four states and on six plane flights. Not to count the hours in the car, two hours here, three hours here. Yeah, traveling is a state of my life, or it has been.
I'm on the last stretch of that now, heading down to school. I love traveling, I like the new flow of things and people, you know, its like, no matter how annoyed or bothered you get by something, soon you get to leave it behind. That's been my mentality for several years about life too, that no matter how bad things get and no matter how unhappy I am at any certain place, I'll be out of it soon, no need to worry. There are pros and cons to that though, as much as it has helped at times its also made things harder. Because leaving, always leaving is not a good mind frame to live your life in.
When you move and your younger its hard to stay in touch with people, especially if your parents are like mine and don't let you stay in touch. So you lose touch, leaving, for any length of time, in my mind, for years, meant loosing friends. People came and went but no one was constant. So in my mind I have developed this sort of sense that no one is ever going to be with me forever, not even family. Everyone leaves and in the end you only have yourself to rely on, to be with. Everyone is alone in this world, but you don't have to be lonely.
I think I had a hard hit yesterday, part of the reason my mind is on this now. My best friend from high school called and informed me that she was going to have someone else be her maid of honor after she had already asked me. I was easily replaceable to a girl who had been best friends with me for over six years, we were stage partners. But out of sight, out of mind. So, for me, I don't let people get too close. I don't open up all that easily to anyone, because I know they'll leave, they'll forget me, its natural. Only, I'm starting to find that its not.
Its a refreshing change, this new influx of people in my life in the last year or so that don't forget, that don't let go. My aunt and uncle in Texas are now my main supports, my aunt is like the mother I never had, she is there for me when I'm sad or upset, she laughs with me, goes shopping with me. She spoils me, now that took a while to get use to. And I feel safe and welcome there. Its a rather nice sensation, novel too. But beyond the sudden burst of family care into my life, a little late at eighteen but better then never, as I turned nineteen I became aware that I had friends. Friends in the true meaning the of the word, friends I could go to or who would come to me. Friends who really know me, not just the sweet mask I present to the world. We all hide under masks, everyone does. But the people around me are starting to take deeper looks and the best part? Even when I push them away they don't go.
In fact, my significant other told me flatly the other day that he wasn't going anywhere. Granted, its a good thing he's stubborn like that, because all the other males I've tangled with have always gone away. Because I push them away. Maybe some part in me wanted to see if they could handle the tough job of being in my life. I'm nice, sweet, adorable, (these are all taken from my SO so if you disagree you can blame him xp), but my life is hard. I want someone who can weather those storms with me, who can be my rock during hard times. The boys before couldn't, the man I'm with now, I believe he could. And well, there is the simple fact that I love him. But...its still unknown. I don't know if he will stay at the end of it all. There is no way to know if anyone will, but...one day at a time. That's how I'll live my life with my relationships. No forevers, because, there is no forever, not really.
I'm going to San Francisco, to a large art school. Scary huh? San Fran is a huge city, full of so many different people. I'll have so many choices to make, so much to do. I can't wait to start my life there, to really live. Lets just hope I do it right.
But one thing is for sure, traveling, for the next two months at least, is done. If I see a plane before March I'll probably run screaming. Well...maybe not that extreme but..you get the picture.
I'm on the last stretch of that now, heading down to school. I love traveling, I like the new flow of things and people, you know, its like, no matter how annoyed or bothered you get by something, soon you get to leave it behind. That's been my mentality for several years about life too, that no matter how bad things get and no matter how unhappy I am at any certain place, I'll be out of it soon, no need to worry. There are pros and cons to that though, as much as it has helped at times its also made things harder. Because leaving, always leaving is not a good mind frame to live your life in.
When you move and your younger its hard to stay in touch with people, especially if your parents are like mine and don't let you stay in touch. So you lose touch, leaving, for any length of time, in my mind, for years, meant loosing friends. People came and went but no one was constant. So in my mind I have developed this sort of sense that no one is ever going to be with me forever, not even family. Everyone leaves and in the end you only have yourself to rely on, to be with. Everyone is alone in this world, but you don't have to be lonely.
I think I had a hard hit yesterday, part of the reason my mind is on this now. My best friend from high school called and informed me that she was going to have someone else be her maid of honor after she had already asked me. I was easily replaceable to a girl who had been best friends with me for over six years, we were stage partners. But out of sight, out of mind. So, for me, I don't let people get too close. I don't open up all that easily to anyone, because I know they'll leave, they'll forget me, its natural. Only, I'm starting to find that its not.
Its a refreshing change, this new influx of people in my life in the last year or so that don't forget, that don't let go. My aunt and uncle in Texas are now my main supports, my aunt is like the mother I never had, she is there for me when I'm sad or upset, she laughs with me, goes shopping with me. She spoils me, now that took a while to get use to. And I feel safe and welcome there. Its a rather nice sensation, novel too. But beyond the sudden burst of family care into my life, a little late at eighteen but better then never, as I turned nineteen I became aware that I had friends. Friends in the true meaning the of the word, friends I could go to or who would come to me. Friends who really know me, not just the sweet mask I present to the world. We all hide under masks, everyone does. But the people around me are starting to take deeper looks and the best part? Even when I push them away they don't go.
In fact, my significant other told me flatly the other day that he wasn't going anywhere. Granted, its a good thing he's stubborn like that, because all the other males I've tangled with have always gone away. Because I push them away. Maybe some part in me wanted to see if they could handle the tough job of being in my life. I'm nice, sweet, adorable, (these are all taken from my SO so if you disagree you can blame him xp), but my life is hard. I want someone who can weather those storms with me, who can be my rock during hard times. The boys before couldn't, the man I'm with now, I believe he could. And well, there is the simple fact that I love him. But...its still unknown. I don't know if he will stay at the end of it all. There is no way to know if anyone will, but...one day at a time. That's how I'll live my life with my relationships. No forevers, because, there is no forever, not really.
I'm going to San Francisco, to a large art school. Scary huh? San Fran is a huge city, full of so many different people. I'll have so many choices to make, so much to do. I can't wait to start my life there, to really live. Lets just hope I do it right.
But one thing is for sure, traveling, for the next two months at least, is done. If I see a plane before March I'll probably run screaming. Well...maybe not that extreme but..you get the picture.
Monday, January 19, 2009
A Statement
Everyone does different things with their blog.
It is after all their blog. Mine however won't focus on major politics or a deep understanding of one certain thing, its just going to be the reflection's, the thoughts of yours truly.
I am a nineteen year old college girl, I am paradoxical and alive. And I am honored that you are taking the time to read my thoughts. I never have been overly good at keeping real journals, perhaps because I tend to dislike writing things down in books that clutter and take up space. But, I save all of my old journals, old poetry and a number of other odds and ends. Its a mystery. However I shall promise to try and not post as sporadically as I wrote in those old journals, months at a time of nothing.
As you can probably see from the segway of thoughts above my mind connects many things to one simple thing. I think of my life in the manner of art, and listen to music as a soundtrack, I find philosophy in literature, I read stories from poetry. I am odd, and some of my thoughts are very much along that manner. I am gentle and sweet according to friends, easily loved and seem to be a perfectly happy and bright young lady. But I have nightmares, so, what you get here? It will be truth, honesty, it will be reflections of my life. But that doesn't mean it will be easy, it won't be about a movie star and who's going out with who. It will be...about the world, about the art of living and about discovering what it means to be me.
It will be.
It is after all their blog. Mine however won't focus on major politics or a deep understanding of one certain thing, its just going to be the reflection's, the thoughts of yours truly.
I am a nineteen year old college girl, I am paradoxical and alive. And I am honored that you are taking the time to read my thoughts. I never have been overly good at keeping real journals, perhaps because I tend to dislike writing things down in books that clutter and take up space. But, I save all of my old journals, old poetry and a number of other odds and ends. Its a mystery. However I shall promise to try and not post as sporadically as I wrote in those old journals, months at a time of nothing.
As you can probably see from the segway of thoughts above my mind connects many things to one simple thing. I think of my life in the manner of art, and listen to music as a soundtrack, I find philosophy in literature, I read stories from poetry. I am odd, and some of my thoughts are very much along that manner. I am gentle and sweet according to friends, easily loved and seem to be a perfectly happy and bright young lady. But I have nightmares, so, what you get here? It will be truth, honesty, it will be reflections of my life. But that doesn't mean it will be easy, it won't be about a movie star and who's going out with who. It will be...about the world, about the art of living and about discovering what it means to be me.
It will be.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
New Year's Reflections
Happy New Years.
And make happy a key word for me.
Its been a rough fall, a rough traveling period and a rough few days to be certain. I think some of that showed in my last blog. But you know what, this is a new year, one that I will make my own and one that I will start off with good thoughts. Because while the colors the last few days that have tainted and tinted my world and canvas have been dark, its a new year and I have several special people who are brightening my world.
And for them I am so grateful.
Currently the brightest colors in my life are my aunt and uncle, they are my support and my family, they make me laugh and smile. My mother, as several know, has currently pulled my siblings out of my life completely. If you read my last blog you know that losing my siblings the first time basically broke my heart, and yesterday morning I was upset and my heart was broken slightly at least. Yet my uncle and aunt braced me, took me out to spend time with them and talk over things. Instead of focusing and keening over the fact that I lost my siblings I am distracted by planning for school and family time.
I went out East to a school that was a compromise between what I wanted and what my family expected. Now, this semester, I am going to a school that I want, doing what I want. Art is my soul, the center of my being. I view myself as a piece of art, as are all humans, which is why I love to paint and draw people, because then I can understand the art that is their life and soul. My uncle has been helping me figure out what I'm going to need, they have offered to pay for housing to help, and everything is falling into line. What I thought would be impossible is coming to life, sort of the way art does. You can create amazing, wondrous things that no one would believe to be true in art, but I didn't think it would happen in life as well. Its a lovely surprise.
My new year will be missing some colors, that of my mother and siblings. But added colors. The colors of the people here, the people that I meet at school, the colors of experience and love and knowledge and hurt. All of them are needed. For they will shape my year and who I am. I am me, there is no changing or doubting the core of what I am, but the people I have in my life, who do the honor of touching my life and allowing me to touch their's, they are the ones that will make this year or break it for me. And I plan to have this year turn out as I want it, I am going to live my life for me now, its my time, my time to live and to love and to shine out with the art that is me. I have new hope in my heart, heavier understanding and maturity, a few new sorrows in my eyes and heart, a few new scars, but stronger spirit, a brighter smile, and some very special new people to spend my time with.
Here's to the new year. It is what you make it, and my only new years resolution is to live, live and regret nothing.
And make happy a key word for me.
Its been a rough fall, a rough traveling period and a rough few days to be certain. I think some of that showed in my last blog. But you know what, this is a new year, one that I will make my own and one that I will start off with good thoughts. Because while the colors the last few days that have tainted and tinted my world and canvas have been dark, its a new year and I have several special people who are brightening my world.
And for them I am so grateful.
Currently the brightest colors in my life are my aunt and uncle, they are my support and my family, they make me laugh and smile. My mother, as several know, has currently pulled my siblings out of my life completely. If you read my last blog you know that losing my siblings the first time basically broke my heart, and yesterday morning I was upset and my heart was broken slightly at least. Yet my uncle and aunt braced me, took me out to spend time with them and talk over things. Instead of focusing and keening over the fact that I lost my siblings I am distracted by planning for school and family time.
I went out East to a school that was a compromise between what I wanted and what my family expected. Now, this semester, I am going to a school that I want, doing what I want. Art is my soul, the center of my being. I view myself as a piece of art, as are all humans, which is why I love to paint and draw people, because then I can understand the art that is their life and soul. My uncle has been helping me figure out what I'm going to need, they have offered to pay for housing to help, and everything is falling into line. What I thought would be impossible is coming to life, sort of the way art does. You can create amazing, wondrous things that no one would believe to be true in art, but I didn't think it would happen in life as well. Its a lovely surprise.
My new year will be missing some colors, that of my mother and siblings. But added colors. The colors of the people here, the people that I meet at school, the colors of experience and love and knowledge and hurt. All of them are needed. For they will shape my year and who I am. I am me, there is no changing or doubting the core of what I am, but the people I have in my life, who do the honor of touching my life and allowing me to touch their's, they are the ones that will make this year or break it for me. And I plan to have this year turn out as I want it, I am going to live my life for me now, its my time, my time to live and to love and to shine out with the art that is me. I have new hope in my heart, heavier understanding and maturity, a few new sorrows in my eyes and heart, a few new scars, but stronger spirit, a brighter smile, and some very special new people to spend my time with.
Here's to the new year. It is what you make it, and my only new years resolution is to live, live and regret nothing.
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