Can I have some?

welcome to my blog.

a place to post. a place to eat oreos. a place to vent. a place to heal.

i started this blog so i could use a different outlet besides munching on fattening oreos. as if that has done any good... *mind wanders to oreo package in the house...*

then i realized that oreos can be semi symbolic. if you are are that crazy about oreos that is. which... i am.

eating oreos is therapeutic for me. when i am struggling or when i need a pick me up. they have chocolate. and sugar. both of which help lift my mood. not to mention that i eat them soaked with milk, which is my miracle drink.

i post my posts to not only get stuff out. there may be people who read my blog who have been in the same kind of situations as i have. i hope reading them and knowing that others have gone through things like i have, will be to you what eating oreos does to me.

and yes. i didn't capitalize anything in here. i just felt like it. deal with it.

munch up.

Monday, December 19, 2011

Things on my mind

So, this will be somewhat random. But I suppose if you have stuck with me so far, you are probably used to that.

It's pretty funny how once school is out, I loose all track of what day it is. Almost instantly.

Being a primary teacher in my ward is an interesting experience. There are rowdy kids, there are more quiet kids, and there are kids that sit and listen, and even contribute to the lesson by answering questions. Some kids shift jobs depending on the day. Our rowdiest kids when we first became the teachers sometimes answer the questions now and listen to the lesson. But that often depends on the day.

One of the hardest parts of my job is I never seem to know when I have done an ounce of good. Sure I can go and sit next to a seemingly dejected student during the sharing time and rub a back. But how I am to know if it did any good? Especially when a child has a personality that refuses to show weakness or love or really anything but hate? One of my biggest problems, I think, is... well I have conversations with people in my head all the time. Sometimes when I am praying or trying to search for an answer, I am not certain if I am just simply having a pretended conversation with God or if I am having a real one. I just don't know how to tell if I am getting revelation or not. I can say that I have a "feeling" that this child needs me, she scratches herself pulling skin off for crying out loud. I have no idea if she is dealing with similar pain as myself, but well... there are signs.

I don't know how much I should say, but whatever the case, I wish I could know, know for certain, if I'm actually gaining revelation or if I'm just pretending to talk to God. It is well... you could maybe call it a habit of mine to talk with someone in my mind, answering the way I think they would answer. Sometimes I wonder if something is wrong with my mind.

All that aside, I hear a little elf stopped by today. I have yet to see what he brought, but Pro Boxer said that they were gift cards. The elf just happened to be our bishop. I'm glad that we can get more things for the kids than we did about a week ago. Yet I am also somewhat depressed like I am whenever I get blessed like that.

Which brings me (see, it isn't random!) to the next topic.

I prayed again on my knees. My own little personal prayer sent directly to Heavenly Father. There's that word. Father. I literally feel like a piece of trash thrown off at the side of the road to lie with the butts that people throw out of their cars. Or as I felt on the trip home from the bowl game, like a burned black ugly old building on the outskirts of happy valley. I, broken, burned up little ol' me, is not worthy to call God, Father. Call it irrational if you must. This is how I feel. And this is what my prayer pretty much was about. I was sobbing on the ground realizing that this is how I feel. I honestly don't feel worthy enough to have the blessing to call Him Father. I just don't. I don't deserve to be called daughter by Him. Despite all my depression, I have been able to see his blessings. I honestly have. But whenever I get blessed, it makes me feel all the more unworthy. It is a bit of a conundrum, but there you have it. I really don't know what to do with myself. Some survivors of abuse lash out at others longing deep inside for someone to come and love them despite their hateful attitude. I don't do that. I don't know if you could say that I physically abuse myself (though picking all the loose skin and scabs on my nose could possibly count). Me? I go inside. When I feel left out and want to join in, I just can't. I am too quiet, too shy, and just too darn un-opinionated to be able to join in. So I curl up and become invisible, numbing myself to the pain of being left out. I hurt myself, yes. I am aware of that. I abuse myself emotionally. I suppose having an awareness of it is the first step. But coming to the realization that I don't feel worthy to call God Father was an interesting one. It explains a lot of things. And realizing that, I think it is finally time to have another meeting with the bishop.

I'm working on it. I'm trying. Though half-hearted it may seem to others, I still am working.

One of these days I'll beat you, Satan. And maybe when that day comes I'll feel sorry for you. Maybe I already do. Hanging around here without a body with everyone else with one must not be a very happy situation for you. But one of these days I'll beat you. Because I believe deep down inside there is someone stronger than you, and I'm turning to Him. No matter how unworthy you help me feel.

Sunday, December 11, 2011

"Act of God"

One thing I enjoyed while reading through the paperwork to buy our house was how many "Act of God" moments there were to protect us, the buyers, should anything happen to the house. As far as I can tell the phrase was only put there to make sure they didn't leave anything out. Don't ask me how an earthquake isn't an "Act of God" however, that doesn't make sense to me.

Apparently a wind storm would be considered an "Act of God" by insurance companies. A few weeks back or so my hometown was swept with 100 mph gusts of winds. Yes. O.O Quite. The whole neighborhood lost many trees. Decks were wrecked and won't be paid for by the previously mentioned insurance companies because of course, a wind storm would be considered an "Act of God." *rolls eyes...

My parents lost three trees. THREE TREES!!! They didn't have any damage to their house or their neighbor's property lucky (or "Act of God"?) for them. But you know... those trees were my favorite. One of my favorite Christmas traditions was that we would get a live tree. I didn't like how it couldn't stay in the house as long as I wanted it to (I do love Christmas decorations), but I totally loved how we would plant it in the lawn when the ground wasn't frozen (well... I actually can't remember when we would plant the trees). Whatever the case, I totally loved how my house was surrounded by Christmas trees. My parent's started planting in the front yard on both sides and kept moving them back. They still have space to go as they have a rather large backyard. It was sad enough for me when they took the trees down on one side so they could upgrade their driveway for a parking lot. I saw the lack of trees for the first time today and I might have been close to tears. The house is totally barren now!! *sad face... :'(

When me and the kids packed up to leave today I was trying to explain to Bug why the house didn't have trees anymore (he said it was because someone chopped them down). I tried to help him remember the wind storm that we had (though certainly not as serious as my parent's town) and how we had to run to our house after school so that we wouldn't get knocked over. Bug had told me that our house wouldn't get blown over. :) I then told him that at grandma's house, the wind was much stronger and pushed over the trees.

What was his response to that?

"That's because the wind drank milk."

Yes, Bug. I suppose that is why the wind was stronger.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Latest Crazy Project

So here is my latest crazy crafty project.
Tis a sweater. Well, it will be. At church quite a few weeks ago one of the nursery leaders asked me if I can knit sweaters. And I said yes. Turns out her boss (or her boss's wife, I can't remember the details) has had a pattern and yarn for a sweater that she wants made for a very long time, and just hasn't been able to find anyone to do it for her. So. Now I'm knitting my second sweater for a random person that I haven't ever met. Yes, I'm crazy. I am contemplating charging money for the time and effort involved, but as I didn't mention it from the start, I worry about mentioning it now. Not only that, but I have no idea how much I would charge.

Whatever the case, this is how it will end up looking... Supposedly.
So... all that said, I will be working on this for a while. I hope to get a lot of it done during the break, because I know I won't be able to get much done when school starts again.

I also have a lot of little projects on my list that I need to do. I should probably work on them before (as most of them I wish to give away as gifts) I spend too much time on the sweater. But now that I have finally gotten through the first skein and can estimate that I have enough yarn to make it I can work on the other projects without the sweater weighing too heavily on my mind.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

I'm gonna do it!

I'm gonna post! but... i don't really know what to post... hmm...

We are all finally becoming rid of the cold. Bug caught it first, then me, and I think Pro Boxer had it a little, and of course, Goof Ball picked it up at the end. Bug still has a bit of a cough, but it seems like it is taking me the longest to get over it. I'm not too surprised... Goof Ball even seems to have gotten over it. And he was the last to pick it up! Colds always hit me hard though, so yeah. Not much I can do about it. Though, here is an interesting phenomenon... Goof Ball seemed to get over it the fastest. Only about two days of serious hoarse voice and he seemed fine after that. The phenomenon? He probably drinks the most water of us all.... Hmm......

So. How am I doing, you ask? I have not gone to church in three weeks. Well... we have also had a least one of us sick during that time, and yeah... I was the designated one to stay behind. I also have not had one oreo in.... weeks. That's right. Weeks. I'm not even sure how long it has been. I have been doing more knitting, and serving with my sisters in TBS (the band service sorority). I have been turning more often to the Lord... though yet never really said any personal prayers on my knees. When I need to pray for family prayer those are on my knees, and well... they have slowly gotten more sincere. I even finally read one of the chapters in 3 Nephi when Jesus is there like my bishop asked me to do... I had forgotten that he had until one of my good friends to said to read one verse in the same book and report to her. :) She is trying to help me. Funnily enough? She has been through the same experiences as me, and she is WAY more positive about life than I am. I think I see a bit of my past self in her, and I wonder where I went.

So I guess in general, I'm doing better. Life moves on, I make friends with Japanese people and invite them to my house for Christmas. I somehow find something to get Pro Boxer for Christmas (he is REALLY hard to buy for!), and we contemplate getting.... a dog. Yes. A dog. We'll see how that goes. We still have to calculate how much feeding and caring for it would be. I really want it to be a teacup yorkie. People think I'm crazy and say that they yip all the time and get sick frequently. That may be so. And they are BLASTED expensive. That also may be so. But truthfully.... I think I would be scared to get any dog bigger than that, and they are so DARN CUTE! I don't particularly think that I'm scared of dogs. It just unnerves me when they jump up on me, and are heavy enough to push me down and I have no idea what they are thinking.

So yeah. That is our life in a post that is really random because I didn't know what to write before hand. Next semester will be filled with writing classes (hurrah!!! I didn't have ONE this semester and it has been killing me!), and I will be a TA of sorts for one English class for my absolute favorite English professor at my school. I'm really nervous about that as my main task is to read the student's essays and help them improve their arguments. I suck at that with my own essays... I don't know how much help I could be for them... And somehow... this teacher that I admire and respect so much believes that I will be great and he actually said "I have every confidence in your ability. That's why I chose you." Thanks. Way to put the pressure on.

Friday, November 18, 2011

Long time coming

This post that is. I really have been too busy to post this, but I have been thinking about you. Really. :)

My sister outright cheered when I told her this, so I thought I'd share it here.

First a little background:

Pro Boxer has ADD which apparently, by medical standards doesn't exist anymore. *rolls eyes...* As such, he has a hard time taking tests. However, to be able to apply for the job at his current place of employment that he really would love (maintenance), he had to be able to pass a speed test of sorts. Which... well the word speed is not really in his ability to accomplish easily. They have a practice test thing online I guess, and while watching him work at it, it brought to my attention that he was planning on trying it out again. He had tried earlier, but didn't pass. So. He tried hard to prepare himself, yet I, as a wife didn't really know how to help him, save make sure he got enough sleep and all that. He can't really get a higher paying position without taking and passing this test, and so I was quite worried for him, but found that I couldn't do much to help him. The night before he was to take the test, I laid down in bed. I thought out a somewhat lame prayer to help Pro Boxer with the test. I mentioned how I had done all I could (I even sent Pro Boxer out with three Oreos... gasp! I claimed they would work as brain food), and so I was using this prayer as my last resort to help Pro Boxer.

Now, I don't know if it was the extra preparation that Pro Boxer had, or the prayer, but yes. He did pass it. My previously mentioned sister hadn't known that Pro Boxer passed, but rather cheered when I told her that I did say a prayer more than "thanks" or a routine family prayer.

I am still debating going to counselling or not. I have been talking to a friend of mine who had been in similar situations as I. She is one of the most cheerful persons that I know. She is soon to be married to someone who resembles Pro Boxer's patience and love. Really, people like me wouldn't really be able to survive in a marriage easily without a very patient and loving husband. In any case, she is trying to help me see the world how she sees it and lift my mood.

Yesterday I had been brought food, peppermint oil (for my massive headache I had), a big pot to make four pies worth of filling, and other random things. A day or so before that, someone came to be a second mom to my kids. She fed them, played with them, so I could finish my homework. Not only that, but she swept the floor, washed all the dishes, and wiped down all the surfaces in the kitchen. When I am blessed such as that, I find that I get easily depressed because I don't see me worth so much blessings. Which, when said in that way, may be why I don't turn to the Lord anymore. I'm not worth the blessings that I know He will give me by following Him.

I only have one class today besides my two music/performing classes. (yes that was a deliberate subject change...) And the one class that I DO have is just a quiz and I can leave after that. I do have to finish my tutoring assignment for Japanese, but really, I feel like I don't have much to do today as far as school stuffs is concerned. Which I guess is good. Bug had a fever yesterday, and is banned from school today. I hope he gets better soon. I still have to make four pies worth of apple filling after all. We'll see how that goes. I hope I have time for it. I have an essay to write and a concert tomorrow.

Here's to a busy weekend. I still don't know if I'll meet with the bishop again this weekend... we'll have to see I guess.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011


So, it is Wednesday. Almost Thursday. Then it will be Friday, Saturday.

And Sunday.

Honestly, the majority of the week, I feel somewhat 'normal' and okay. It's when it gets to be Saturday, sometimes starting as early as Friday when I start getting depressed about the next Sunday. Yes, I know that isn't what would be considered 'healthy.' That's where this blog comes in.

As far as praying is concerned, my bishop suggested just starting with thinking a small "Thank you." And I have done that a few times. Because truthfully, I am grateful for Pro Boxer, for my good friends and for the chance I have to finish my education even with two small crazy kids who keep my house in a constant state of chaos. My family has never given up on me, and I am eternally grateful for that. There are a lot of things that I'm grateful for. Whether or not God wishes to hear my small "Thank you" or not is up to Him. I suppose it is the act of just thinking that which makes the small start.

I have also started once again praying "family prayer" with the kids at night. The last few days before my meeting with the bishop I had not done that, and he specifically mentioned that he hoped that I still was. I didn't comment. Yes, I know better. And yes, I'm trying.

Pro Boxer still seems to be hesitant asking me to pray for family prayer when he is available to join us. In fact since Sunday he hasn't asked me at all. He either says it or asks Bug to do it. But when it is just me and the kids, I sometimes give out a 'routine' prayer. They feel somewhat flat coming out of my mouth. I wouldn't be surprised if God ignored me then. My greatest fear, however, is if I put more feeling into the prayer and specifically ask for things that I need, that He will still ignore me, and not bless me with an answer. At least I'm praying in front of the kids. Hopefully that will be good enough for now.

But this is just after three days of starting my 'rehab.' Give me time. I just thought I'd update you all on how things were going.

And, a personal thank you to Nana for your comment. There's a lot in there that I really appreciated. I once used to be more optimistic like that... I'm (hopefully) back on the road/rocketship(?) to that alien planet of optimism about the things that happened in my life.

Sunday, November 6, 2011


Today after church, I had my meeting with the bishop.

A few things to note before I forget them (and to get my readers to hopefully not worry about me as much):

1. It was decided (or maybe rather declared by him) that I am one of those "virtuous" persons and that I am going through a hard time and that I can "handle it." My response was "Even if I am, just because I am strong enough to handle it, why must I go through it?" He didn't really respond, but he laughed...

2. I will probably have to meet with him again before this is fully taken care of...

3. It is possible that there is more of the onion to peal off, but it is also just as likely that Satan brought up all the horrible things that happened to me in the spotlight again, and constantly shoving them in my face to prevent me from seeing the good things and to get me to stop calling on the Lord, in private or with my kids. The ultimate goal that bishop decided was likely the case (if how I feel doesn't have anything to do with more of the onion to deal with) is that Satan is after my kids, and he is targeting me to get at them.

Things he suggested I do:

1. I "need" to recognize my good qualities.

2. If I feel the need to talk to a counselor at FS, that I should just go in and do so.

3. Think about things (callings/activities/etc...) that would be more just for me to "fill my well."

4. Renew mine (and Justin's) temple recommend. He didn't expect me to go to the temple yet, if I'm too uncomfortable even coming to church or saying personal prayers, going to the temple was too big of a step. But he said that I needed that "ticket" in my possession...

Read this however you want. Heck, I can't make you read it in any other way than you already do. Things I don't want are comments that list the belief system of my church. I know the story. We are all children of God and that he loves us all. "You love your kids so much, but God loves you more..." Crap like that I just can't believe right now. I'm still doing one of the important steps, even though it is horribly difficult for me right now. I'm still going to church. I'm not studying, and I'm not praying, but I'm going to church. Even though I really didn't want to go today. (mainly because the lesson in primary was about how the Lord loves us all)

Don't preach to me. I already know it, and I will probably roll my eyes. You can cheer for me, pray for me or whatever will make you feel better. I'm callous to the core right now. I don't want to hear/read sermons. Just loving me, not giving up on me, praying (if you think that will even do any good) or whatever. Though my defense is very weak right now... I'm still trying to fight.

That, at least for now, should be enough.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Halloween and other things

Maybe because I am so busy working on things, I can't afford to be depressed? I have heard from people that if you work on something creative, that helps boost your mood. That may or may not be true for me. Even if it is however, though I am working on creating things right now, it doesn't really help my spiritual health. I have been more emotionally positive? Maybe? Except for the basketball game I had to go to last weekend...

That aside, here are some projects that I have done in the past week.

Bat costumes (both finished in one afternoon):

Bat costumes made out of a towel, pleated, and a wash cloth attached for the hat/ears. Very simple project. Simpler than I thought it would be. A little more difficult than it should have been because of my poor sewing machine that needs a check up.

Next project. I'm a member of TBS (Tau Beta Sigma), which is the band service sorority, and we hosted a Halloween party last night. Everyone needed to contribute something to give away as prizes for various things. I chose to make this to donate:

Tis a scarf. A very warm, and very wide scarf. I didn't intend it to be that wide. Next one I make will be skinnier. I also made a hat to go with the scarf, made with the same colors. I knitted both the colors at the same time, giving it a heather kind of look. I forgot to get a picture of it.

TBS is hosting another event this Saturday, and once again.... I'll be spending a lot of my time knitting this week as I did last week. I do not, however, have an essay to write this week, so hopefully I will be able to catch up and keep up with my classes. Japanese, I particularly have to catch up with... too much vocabulary I need learn.

Wish me luck.

Monday, October 24, 2011

Oct 24, 2011

It's that date again.
And there is the picture.

Once upon a time I had a child with his birthday today. We didn't get to celebrate it with him even once. So we send up balloons (equal to the age that he would be turning) that only get popped... as if anyone truly knows what happens to balloons after they are let go.

Don't ask me how I am. You'll only hear me change the subject. I have mentioned before that I think I have spent almost my whole life numb. I often don't know how I feel, I'm that good an actress. Fooling myself into believing that I'm fine. Maybe I am, but more likely I'm not. I go around a hypocrite trying to make other people believe that they are of worth and what not to try to get them from being depressed, yet I don't believe the words are relevant to myself. I did that just the other day in fact. I quoted D+C 18:10 to someone. "For the worth of souls is great in the sight of God." That used to be the thing I would say most to people. I hadn't done it in a long time. The chapter goes on to talk about missionary work, but I tried to use that for an uplifting scripture to me. "The worth of [Shay's soul] is great in the sight of God." heh. I truly don't know if I ever believed that. Maybe some small points in my life I felt that. Even though the scripture says, "worth of souls is great..." I some how dismiss myself from that absolute statement. I think, the worth of everyone else's soul is great... but not mine. I think about it and I think about it. Yes, I know what you'll say. If I were to discuss this logically with anyone, my thought process doesn't make any sense. I did have this discussion with someone just recently (after I told her I was a hypocrite for quoting that to her), and I couldn't logically explain it. Because either the scripture is true and I am included, or there is no God.

Logically, that is how it works. Emotionally, I don't match up.


I got the courage to call the person I needed to call to make an appointment with the bishop. I know I'm having some serious issues. It was the wrong person, cause his calling changed. So I called the other person that he said... and it was a disconnected number. So I talked to the bishop about it yesterday and he gave me the correct number. I just have to muster up the courage again.

This was to be a post "celebrating" Little Angel's birthday. Don't ask me how it turned into a Shay-needs-serious-help post. I guess that was just what I had to get out. And this, as I say frequently, is a place for me to get things out.

Now go munch on some Oreos.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

headaches... should never had been invented. i'm sorry (not really) that's just how it is.

so... a few changes. one the background (obviously). and yes, it is in the spirit of buying oreos these days with orange creme inside. don't ask me why the creme is orange.

another change that is less obvious... my side bar (playlist... music.... thing). instead of having music that lifts my mood (though some of them still do anyway) i decided to have it play music that i wish i had. so if you are feeling good and want to share that goodness feel free to send me some iMoney (or whatever) so i can get these on iTunes or something. :) and just so you know... iTunes apparently counts as a word.... iMoney.... not so much.

life keeps going, heads STILL ache, tummies get hungry, kids get raunchy from tiredness, homework and quizes keep coming, japanese to be learned, kids to feed, headaches to shoot...... but hey, at least shay is wearing her handknit sweater today!

hopefully i can finish everything i need to do today. most of my afternoon was spent changing the background and taking care of other things i do not wish to share so publicly. don't get offended. wait... no. do get offended, stop following me and make nasty comments stating how upset you are that you can't stalk me.

but then, what is the point of blogs anyway then?

ah... so much to do... and i am rambling again.

sorry i can't make the background prettier than just changing the colors. one of these days i'll hire someone to do it..... one of these days.....


Wednesday, October 12, 2011

I forgot

Goof Ball has been talking, as I have previously mentioned. If he doesn't really talk in front of you, don't be offended. It still seems to be something that only his family is blessed to hear. But there was one thing that I forgot to put on the Wise Sayings side bar... and it is just too cute, I just had to give it its own post.

Though, granted, it isn't as cute written as it is said. So I'll try and get a video of it...

It was fun, after making a few videos of words that he knew (I was shocked he shared them so freely with my cell phone....) we watched them and he giggled a lot. It was cute. <3

I'll save other videos for other posts. The only other ones I could think of having him do were ones that are in the side bar. I'll same them, however for other times. Times probably after a 'pity party' post. Hurrah for amazing alliterations!

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

and the number of followers just keeps rising...

Thank you everyone for your support. I don't seem to be getting many comments these days, but from the rising number of followers, I can at least assume that my words are being read. To a writer, that is a very heart warming thing.

Sometimes I get asked, or I wonder myself, "What do I need from people? How can people help me?" Honestly, I really don't know. I am currently under the impression that I hardly know myself at all. I suppose it comes from spending so much time with myself, and wishing that I wasn't forced to. You could say that I have an extreme case of inferiority complex. When people believe in me, instead of trusting their belief in me, I get depressed, not feeling up to the task of accomplishing their expectations. Sometimes it feels as if I want to fail or cause myself to fail to get them to see the way I see myself.

Ahhh, and there I go off on a tangent again. I often do that when my hands are on a keyboard of any sort. Even through txts... *sigh...

I finally learned the name of a song that I have always liked and looked up the lyrics to it. Just the other day (when I learned the name of the song), I realized why I loved it so much. I relate to it very strongly.

Iris by Goo Goo Dolls:
(the song is near the end of my play list if you wish to listen to it)

And I'd give up forever to touch you
Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be
And I don't want to go home right now

And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
Cause sooner or later it's over
I just don't want to miss you tonight

And I don't want the world to see me
Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am

And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming
Or the moment of truth in your lies
When everything seems like the movies
Yeah you bleed just to know your alive

And I don't want the world to see me
Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am

I don't want the world to see me
Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am

I just want you to know who I am
I just want you to know who I am
I just want you to know who I am
I just want you to know who I am

The verses could be whatever way you want to take them, but the chorus, and I think even the third verse I relate to the most. The forth line in the third verse is likely my favorite. That doesn't mean that I have ever slit myself on purpose. Even now I'm not exactly sure why I love that line so much. Maybe someday I'll find out.

Those words though... the chorus. I don't want the world to see me, cause I don't think that they'd understand. When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am. I don't think I'll ever be good enough at poetry to write such a thing. Poetry was never my strong point. But those lines could be very honestly said from my mouth.

I hide. Everyday I hide. I plaster on a smile and pretend everything is okay. I have had 19 years or so of practice. I am broken. Despite all this, all I want is for people to know who I am. Why do I act? Because acting is safe. Acting fools those who would discard me if they really knew who I am.

So for now, even though it doesn't seem like much, all I can ask is that you don't give up on me. Some days I try. Some days I give up. Some times I get pulled along by some happy thing that happened only to fall again hours later (that one happened multiple times today). I can't tell you how tomorrow will be. I can't tell you how I am now. I can't even tell you who I really am, because I strive everyday to ignore myself. Here, on this blog, is very likely the only place where I truly say things how they are. At least I like to think that way. I am horribly honest on here. More so than even with Pro Boxer. The things I write here I am even to nervous to say out loud. Probably because being rejected online is less traumatizing than irl.

Whatever the case, that is all I can ask for now. I think my courage is mounting again for me to call my bishop and talk to him. Church things are still... hard. I get really pessimistic during that 3 hour block of my life every week.

I'm sorry almost every single thing I post is depressing. I try sometimes to post something cute that my kids did. I'm just... like this right now. And I'm very busy, to boot. It is much easier to remember to get my anger and frustration and unpleasant feelings out on here than it is to post every cute little thing that my kids did. And those who know them... I could make more than 10 posts a day if I tried, and I don't even spend all day with them.

Again, thank you for reading. Having people read the words that I write gives me the strength and courage to keep on writing, even if I frequently feel like my writing isn't worth it. You, reading this right now, gives purpose and meaning to my words, and that makes me, as a writer, happy.

Friday, October 7, 2011

and then the alien said to me, "%#@~$(%#&@." and I said, "わかりません。"

The days fly by, somehow the homework gets completed, the weekends are non-existent, roses dry perfectly right side up, performance after performance, cough after measly cough, days turn shorter, leaves on my poor plants drop off at an alarming rate (because I fail to remember to water them), and somehow I'm still here. People don't seem to dislike me. In fact, they seem to like me so much that I get teased (in a loving sort of way). I wonder sometimes if there is a contest in the trumpet section that I'm unaware of. "Who can tease Shay the most before the semester is out?"

And now it comes to my mind as to why the post started out as it did. It is October once again. Bug is five, Goof Ball is two. And Little Angel would be four at the end of this month. I mentioned to my parents the other day when talking about the monthly birthday gathering we have that I sometimes forget that I have a child with their birthday in October. My mind forgets. My body never does. It is almost like a plague that can never be healed. Well... it is exactly like that. Truthfully I'm grateful that he is safe and sound and that he doesn't have to suffer like everyone else down here. More often, however, is the resounding question. "Haven't I suffered enough? What else must I do to prove myself?"

It is said in my religion that children who die before they reach the age of accountability (8) are blessed. Especially very little ones, babies. That all they needed to prove themselves, or to gain the highest kingdom in heaven was to gain a body. Could I also say here, the greatest test? Was that Little Angel's greatest test? Choosing to come down here and live, even if it is likely that he knew he wouldn't live long?

No one really knows about the pre-mortal life, or the life to come. Why things happen to people the way they do. Or if any of us knew what we would have to go through if we chose to come down. I'd like to think that Heavenly Father and Jesus would have warned me about all the things that would happen, and how beat up I'd get, and I still chose to come down. It is almost reassuring to know, that even though I knew all that, yet I still decided to go through with it.

Take this post for what you will. It could be on the verge of depression, yet it could also be showing some improvement. Who knows?

It is Friday. Even though it didn't really process with me until around 5:30 pm in the shower. I will now commence in drowning myself with oreos and milk and working on my story. The best part? I won't feel guilty that I have lots of homework to do. ^_^

I'll end by mentioning the "Wise sayings" side bar. Goof Ball has been talking lately (finally!) and I keep forgetting to mention it or update that... enjoy.

Sunday, September 25, 2011


...I survived the weekend.

But I was forced to do homework on Sunday. Boo.

Anyway, I have a headache, and I sometimes feel nauseated. I probably forced myself to work too hard. Whatever, I'm alive. I guess that is what is important.

Goof Ball has like... three blisters or so on his little fingers. I noticed them yesterday morning. I hadn't even known that he had gotten hurt, but one of them had been popped already. Then yesterday afternoon, he came up to me crying a little and holding his fingers out and another one had popped. Honestly, when I first saw his fingers I couldn't really tell what they were. I only realized that they were blisters after more of them had popped. Anyway, the one that had been popped from the first time that I saw them now looked as if it was trying to heal, but it didn't look right. The harder cover stuff over the opening of the blister was kinda yellow and I could see some fiber stuff from toys or something clinging to it. Now that I could more easily tell what the things were, I started to wonder if he got burned at some point or something... they are on the tops of his middle and ring finger.

Anyway, so I was kinda nervous about it, so even though I had to get ready for the next thing I needed to go to, I had Pro Boxer help me alcohol (Goof Ball didn't like that a bit) and bandage up his little fingers. I checked them again this morning, and they looked a lot better. We re-neosporined (hey, if photoshopping can be a verb, so can neosporined...) them, and bandaged them again. Hopefully everything will go well with that.

Anyway, so life is moving on... I am .... well I don't know how I am. Physically I wonder if something is wrong. Knowing me, it probably just means that I need to eat. Occasional nausea, headaches come and go... and of course my chronic cough. It is a little more juicy than it normally is, and that was probably more information than you wanted to know.

Emotionally? Spiritually? I really have no idea. Psychologically? Search me. Some days I think I am improving only to realize that I am worse off than I was before the next day. I keep toying with the idea of talking to my bishop or trying to get an appointment with a counselor from LDS family services.

Anyway, I don't know what else to say. I ran out of Oreos again this afternoon. I continuously had to hold back tears at church.

Go figure. Everything for my good? Everything? Riiiiight.... Once I was optimistic, believing that somehow maybe I could find something good from being walked all over my whole life in various stages of damage. Personally, I'm sick of being walked all over. Losing Little Angel to death, sure, I can find something good in that. He doesn't have to be stuck in this world of pain like I do. Everything else though... really, I don't see how anyone could find anything "good" from being used, abuse, ignored, and walked all over.

And yes, Jesus was also used, abused, ignored, and walked all over. But I'm not perfect and wonderful, and I'm certainly NOT going to die to save all of humanity. For him, there was something good about it. Despite how difficult it must have been. For me. Not so much. I'm just an item to take advantage of.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

In Which Shay discusses health and Japanese

Physical health is as much to be expected I suppose. I worry however that Pro Boxer may be coming down with a cold... The kids are fine though.

Bug is doing fine with school, and from my point of view seems to be possibly above what his teacher is attempting to teach the kids. He doesn't complain about it either, which is nice.

Goof Ball seems to have adjusted rather well to the change of his brother going to school, as well as mommy being away. But I'm not around to witness that... we'll just hope that it is going fine. I haven't heard any horror stories from Pro Boxer, so I assume that all is well.

And then there is me.

I think I have slowly begun to trust again... hopefully. Sometimes I kneel down and say a short... very short prayer, other times I do it while huddled in bed, and even other times when I just try, though pointless it is, to hide. But I think I'm doing a bit better. Either that or I'm just having WAY too many oreos. ~_^

Anyway, I am crazy busy. Section leader stuff, and personal finance (oh no! I have to do a quiz for that before tomorrow!), and Lit History, and TBS (the band service sorority in which I got invited to join for the second time), and Japanese.

Ah yes, Japanese.

Have I mentioned that I have found a way to take Japanese classes and not run out of credits before I have to pay out of state? Don't ask me how that all worked out. Whatever the case, I am taking Japanese 1010 and... well I am loving it... but it is really busy work. We meet every day for example, so I have homework every night. Speaking of which, I need to get to it.

But it is really fun. I have a friend in band who learned Japanese at one point in her life, and I have been trying to txt her and talk to her in Japanese instead of English and it has helped a lot. For some reason I just can't feel as comfortable in a class or even tutoring situation to learn what I need about building my own sentences and whatnot. So it is nice to have a good friend to practice with. And I think it helps her to remember what she learned a while ago too.

And on that note, I have just remembered that Bug's school is doing this thing where they can sign up for an extra class to learn Chinese... And I signed him up for that. He agreed to it, though I am not sure he entirely understands what it means to learn a different language, but really... I wish I had been pressured a bit more to learn when I was younger. I'm not sure how they will do this class yet, but hopefully I can learn along with him so that we can help each other. Which I have been doing with Japanese with him, teaching him words like:

はい、ありがと、おい、and I want to start teaching him おやすみなさい。

And just so you can keep up, the words I wrote were, hai (yes), arigato (thanks), oi (hey, you), and the last one was o-yasumi nasai (Good night- only used [as far as I know] in familial relationships right as you are going to sleep. like... you are lying in bed and stuff)

Anyway... I really should get to doing homework.


(Ja = see ya.)

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

I haven't forgot to update... I have just been way too busy to do so. For now, just know that I have been much better than my last post suggests.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

"How are you?"

What a question. To be honest, it isn't really even a question. It would be a greeting. So I feel odd actually answering it. Because, honestly.... it IS a question. It has the ? at the end, after all. And it seems that people expect you to answer it anyway. They just probably don't want the truthful answer, and want to hear you say, "Good."

But what if you aren't good? What if you live your life, going through the world and trying very hard not to lie? *points to Shay*

My bishop (leader of my ward, which is an LDS "congregation") and I had this discussion last Sunday. He asked me how I was doing, and... to be completely honest with you, it was one of those Sundays that.... just got to me. I will expound later. I couldn't find myself to just say, "good." Because I wasn't. In fact, it is possible that I was nearly ready to start sobbing. So, as the actor that I am, I laughed it off, and started the conversation.

"I'm not sure how you want me to answer that," I said (or something of the like.) "Do I lie, and say 'good' or should I tell you the truth which would end up with us talking in your office?" Yes, I was really that bad off. I wouldn't say that I am that much better now.

He laughed too, and we continued to "joke" around. I think he understood that there was something seriously wrong with me. Or maybe I like to just imagine that he got that impression.

And so, I write this as honestly as I can. You ask me how I am? Well, get ready for the truth. Because on here is where I find that I can be the most truthful. Or stop reading if you think you can't deal with it. I won't be offended. Heck, I won't even know if you continue reading or not.

I am under the impression that I have been striving very hard to be numb, nearly my whole life. I have contemplated how well I would be able to do if I tried to actually act. I have never really been in a play of any sort, but with the act that I put on every day of my stinking life.... I just might be able to pull it off quite well. I am even under the impression that I am so darn good, that I can even fool myself.

I think that I have come to a realization last Sunday. A few moments that stand out a couple days later: Instead of going to teach my primary class with Pro Boxer, I guess it was my turn to go to the teaching ... class thing. One comment stands out. "How do you know what you are doing is pleasing to the Lord?" Do not ask me why that stands out so much.

Then in sharing time, when all the kids got together in a big group, and we sang and listened to a member of the primary presidency talk, I realized another thing. The lesson was about listening to good music and reading/watching good books/movies (or rather, not listening to "bad" music and not reading/watching "bad" books/movies.)

You know that feeling that some songs give you? Where the music just enters your skin and you feel little tingles all over your body or heat blossoms in your heart? I realized during that lesson, that I have been trying to do everything I can to prevent my body from feeling that way. When I hear a good song, and the tingles start in my right arm and I can feel them pushing their way to the rest of my body, I force myself to ignore the song or the feeling, and eventually it goes away.

It is also the reason why I don't say my own personal prayers anymore. Because, without a doubt, I know that if I kneel down and pray, I will get that feeling again.

And yes, if you are not of my faith, that feeling is what we call the spirit. The Holy Ghost. Go to if you want to learn more. And no, I am not posting that to get you to join. If you are looking for truthful answers to my faith that is seen as somewhat bizarre, then you can find them there.

I started this session now entitled, "Shay's blatantly truthful moment" talking about how I believe that I have been forcing myself to go through my life numb. Whether or not that is true, I have discovered at least one thing this weekend. I am currently living my life trying to numb myself from the only one person who I know can save me. I don't even know why I am doing such a stupid thing. I do it every time a new layer of my rotten to the core onion comes to the surface.

I believe in Christ. I firmly believe that I do. I also have a firm belief that He is the only one who can heal me. That belief is the only thing that keeps me going to church despite the danger of me feeling something there. It seems that the only thing that I don't believe is that I am important enough to be healed. I continue trying to hide. I continue to try and push away from these feelings. For someone who does such things, does she really deserve that kind of love? Unconditional is a common way to say it. Yet, for some reason, I can't find myself to be important enough to include myself in the term, "unconditional."

Every night, I lay in bed, curled up into a ball, once again knowing that I didn't bow to my Lord and beg for His help. That I didn't turn to Him, and knowing that his arms are reaching out. I can't bring myself to face Him when I use such tactics to try and ignore Him. Why should I be so important? How do others see that importance in me? Why in the WORLD do so many people love me when all I strive for in life is to hide?

Yes, it is depressing. Don't tell me that I didn't warn you.

Saturday, August 20, 2011


Or should that be lullabi? Maybe lullabis?


I don't usually sing to my kids when I put them to sleep. Most times I read them a book and then let them fall asleep on their own. Only when we are away from home I usually sing to them to help them fall asleep because they aren't in a usual environment. There are few times when I do sing to them at home, and that is when they are having a particularly hard time sleeping.

One night a while ago, was such a night. After failing to get them to fall asleep on their own, I went down to sing to them. And that is where I get to the point of my post. After one or two songs, Bug said something adorably cute that I haven't wanted to forget and as such have wanted to post it on here.

He said, "Mom, you are making me sleepy. Keep going."

And here his first sentance made me think that he would ask for me to stop.

And with that... I will post this and go to sleep myself. Goodness, I sure do need it.

Monday, August 15, 2011

Frustration.... to the MAX!

First off I really can't remember at all what the point of the last post was. Just forget about it, or quell your excitement over learning what the motif was in my life. Likely I was just going to complain more about how much my life sucks or something like that. Knowing me.

I know that I really want to post... something. But I don't know what. So many feelings and situations are surrounding me, so much that I want to hide and turn into a hermit. Wait... I already am, huh? So many responsibilities are overwhelming me, and that makes me want to hide even more. Yet, I know I can't hide, and... yeah, it makes me want to hide even more! I'm completely ridiculous, eh?

I think that the most frustrating thing to me ever since I became an English major are the times like this. When I want to say something, I want to explain something.... but I don't really know what, or even worse, that I don't know how to put it into words. It is even more frustrating than suddenly being unable to talk out loud with correct grammar. And that HAS been happening ever since I became an English major. Not that I was perfect before, but it certainly started after I became crazy enough to dedicate myself to English and writing.

I guess I'll just write all the things on my mind. Bug going to kindergarten... Marching Band camp starting next Monday... Jury duty (that I likely can't get out of) during Marching Band camp... Finding people to watch my kids everyday for a week during Marching Band camp... Getting myself in shape for not only Marching Band camp, but also for biking around campus this semester... Money issues... Wondering if working on my story is completely pointless yet wanting to spend time working on it...

So... many... things....

Friday, August 12, 2011


Beethoven's 5th symphony. Sol sol sol do. Can you hear it? If not, I guess you'll just have to go to your favorite music playing site and listen to it yourself. Whatever the case, throughout the whole song, it has the same thing. Sol sol sol do. (you know the song on Sound of Music. 'Do, a dear, a female dear'... That would be the universal way of signifying what is the tonic of a chord, Do, always being the tonic.... and I could continue to go off on a major tangent, telling you all about it, but I will hold off.) Sol sol sol do over and over throughout the whole piece. Even changing to different keys, but the Sol sol sol do never goes away. From start to finish, it keeps coming back.

That would be called a motif.

And when I remember what it was in my life that I was going to compare a motif to, I will let you know. I'm not one to save a post in the middle of writing it and get back to it later... knowing me, I would just forget that I saved it in the first place.

Instead, I post half finished posts. ;) Aren't you readers lucky?

Sunday, July 31, 2011

How should I say this....

I feel... odd. I really don't know if words can describe it, but I guess I'll try. That's what my blog is for, right?

Something is off somehow. It's like I feel there is a word on the tip of my tongue. But a word isn't something that is about to be found. I feel almost as if something wants to explode out of me. Maybe a story, maybe a picture... I don't know what, but I think it is something that wishes to formulate itself through a craft. I'm like a volcano that is on the verge of exploding, but instead of shooting out burning hot lava that will destroy everything in its path, it will be appearing as something creative. I have many crafts up my sleeve. Many of them I learned from my amazing mother.

I have been boiling inside for many years. Trapped in a cage, boiling slowly. A slight simmer. Lately the fire has turned up, and the boil got fiercer. I don't really know what it is, though I have a guess. I have no idea how close I am, or how far off I am. And I don't even know how to deal with this. I have never felt like this before.

If you read this, I'm sorry. I'm sorry my thoughts are so confusing right now. Maybe I hope for this to be the creative outlet. Or maybe I'm drilling a hole in the volcano to let out some of the pressure, but not all of it. After all, I don't want to hurt him either.

I'm sorry for the way that I am. But I fear, that this thing... this thing cannot be changed no matter how hard I try. I may just be trapped in this cage until I die, quietly and slowly letting steam escape, holding in the creative lava.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

At least he didn't freak out.

He might have gotten a heart attack. I mean he IS getting up there in age...

Okay, just kidding.

We didn't do much for Pro Boxer's birthday. I have decided that I am horrible at planning. Or I have just given up. It seems every time I do try to plan something it falls through. Whatever the case, my horribleness or lack of motivation or whatever it is, I just don't plan things anymore.

Anyway... I decided to make a recipe that my aunt who has lived in Sweden for..... a good portion of my life. Raspberry torte. I have no idea if I am spelling it right. Everything went along smoothly, and I amazed myself that I was able to keep the kitchen in decent order, AND do pretty well at a recipe that I hadn't ever made before. After the cakes came out at the perfect time, no crumbs clinging to the toothpick, I should have known it was too good to be true. (please keep in mind that I hardly ever, EVER make cakes from scratch... disclaimer is over)

I tried to get the first cake out of the pan so it could cool. It wouldn't come. Side note: don't ever try to force a cake out of the pan when it doesn't want to come. Breakage will happen. Yes, it fell apart. The good kind of fall apart though... it was a completely done cake as was evident. Good thing that was the bottom part, eh? Either that or it just volunteered itself for the job. Whatever. I am good at puzzles and patchwork (at least in regard to food) so i just kind of force it to resemble a possible cake like shape. You with me? The second cake I decide that it might be a good idea to slide a knife through the sides so that it can come out easier. Thankfully it did.

I must put in here, I was so proud of myself being able to get both the raspberries sugared and mixed, the best ones being set aside for the top, AND all the dishes washed before the cakes were finished. I can't believe it, even now.

The whipped cream. Is. The 'frosting'. My mom taught me a while ago how to homewhip cream. I find that I am rather good at it, once I remember the process. Well, as I have never made this before, and haven't ever known how much whipped cream it would take to frost a whole layered cake, sides and all..... I poured the whole thing of cream (you know... the big one) into the bowl, assuming that the bowl would be able to handle it. After all... it was the only metal bowl that we had for me to freeze. (My grandma did it, my mom did it, only until she found out that her mom only did it because she made whipped cream out of canned milk. Who knew? Anyway, Pro Boxer had tried whipping shelf cream, and it didn't turn out well... possibly because it was still warm and he didn't use the chilled bowl or beaters? I was worried about the time the cream spent out of doors waiting for the bus to bring us back home so that is why I used the frozen things.)

So. Despite my amazing *slight cough on fingertips* whipped cream abilities, I always tend to forget how much it GROWS when you whip it. The bowl I had just barely made it. And by the time I had enough sugar in the mixture, I had whipped it enough where it was almost butter. So... I had some almost butter/over beat whipped cream to spread. And a LOT of it. I didn't even use a fourth of it... Maybe an eighth... We'll have to have lots of things with whipped cream on it in the next little while... Maybe we can make more Frog eye salad...

Anyway, the moment you all are waiting for. The picture unveiling... Dun dun du da!

It's a heart. If you can tell... Well... it's a heart within a heart. And six unneeded raspberries.
I have also never made a layered cake before.
Bug's opinion:
Goof Ball's opinion:
Our opinion:
It turns out that Goof Ball doesn't particularly enjoy the taste of raspberries. But he ate the whole thing, sans raspberries. He'll just have to grow accustomed to the taste. ^_^

To be frankfully honest, I can't really remember the taste of my aunt's torte when she made it for my mom on her birthday this year. It was too many months ago. But this tasted close enough to it that I loved it just as much.

Another fun side note: Pro Boxer had apparently thought of asking me to make this for him, but he never did because he thought it was too much work for me. He is much more selfless than I. I guess I was on the right path when I decided to bus the kids to the store to get the raspberries and cream. Hurray for snap decisions! ^_^

Monday, July 25, 2011

Wooden Roller-coasters

The first full week of this month, we had two family reunions. The first one was at a campsite near a big lake. A very big lake. Here is one of the pics taken from said campsite:
Sorry if it is small. For a pic taken from my phone and when I was slightly swinging from being in my hammok swing... thing.... I think it is a pretty darn good pic. I took others like it, but I only sent this one to my e-mail address from my phone right away. I am too lazy to look for others. Trust me, they are very like the same. Bug was in a mood to pose. It was very cute, as you can see.

Then I think on Thursday we went down south to spend the rest of the weekend with Pro Boxer's family. It was nice. We went to a cave. I had to be sprayed down and "disinfected" as well as Bug as we both had been in a cave near the great big lake and there was some bat disease going on. I seriously debated just not going as most of my clothes I had worn in the previous cave. I'm glad I did anyway. And.... not so glad. The hike to the cave was... very long. And uphill the whole way. Bug was a trooper and made it all the way to the top by himself. I didn't get carried either. However, by the time I got to the bottom after we toured the cave (which stopped my complaint that all caves are all the same anyway, and why in the heck am I being sprayed with Lysol??) my lungs were really.... really not feeling well. I was panting almost the entire way back to the campsite, and felt worse there than I did right after we got in the car. I spent the rest of the afternoon in the car panting and trying to relax so my lungs could relax as well. It was quite disconcerting to be in such a situation and also be such a long drive away from a hospital as we were pretty much in the furthest campsite that the canyon could offer.


Then onto the next weekend, Pro Boxer's family had yet another reunion. This time including his grandparents and cousins. Hence we went even further down south. Also after having two throw up moments in our car already in July. Our kids seem to take after both of us... which is a problem. Bug can *ahem* in a bowl, but Goof Ball isn't quite as talented as that.

The main excursion this family reunion was visiting the famous "Hole in the Rock" near another lake.

I feel to preface this with a story that has already (maybe) been posted. I can't remember. In any case, the July 4th reunions bring to light a different thing to remember. Pro Boxer and I got married June 25th (6 years ago of course). Exactly a week later, his family had gathered together to celebrate the 4th. His family is big into 4wheeling. Yes, you guessed it, Pro Boxer and I crashed. Quite epically in fact. We went up too steep a hill and the upper wheels went up and the whole thing rolled over us only once and we stayed on the ground as the 4wheeler rolled the rest of the way down. Thank the Holy Ghost for alerting practically all of Pro Boxer's family to look out the back window of the house they were in right at the time we rolled. I don't know how else we would have gotten off the mountain.

Whatever the case, we both survived, and neither of us had to even visit the hospital (though we both got adjusted by Pro Boxer's bro-in-law for free... he is nice and does things like that even if we aren't in an accident). We were exceptionally blessed. That doesn't even cover it.

Since then however, I have been practically terrified of steep hills. Even on paved roads. This "Hole in the Rock" is not just on a bumpy dirt road. It is on a 4wheeler worthy bumpy dirt road. In fact, in the middle of the drive the whole entourage stopped, and parked their cars somewhere so they could drive the rest of the way on 4wheelers. Sure our little CR-V was "built for things like this," but that didn't make me any less worried. I was terrified. To the point of hyperventilating. The road started off paved, but that ended quickly, and turned into the washboard road. That went on for a while, and then came the hills. Even the smaller ones terrified me because I saw in them all the big rocks and other things that might trip us up. Stupid irrational fears. Though, these ones maybe not have been all that irrational. Whatever the case, I was still terrified, and nothing that Pro Boxer could say would change that. It took all my courage to get back in the car to leave after we ate at the Hole.

And then I came up with a brilliant metaphor. Driving on those blasted bumpy roads, steep hills, and the way Pro Boxer, accelerated to get up said stupid hills, was very like a wooden roller-coaster. The car shuddered probably more than the carts on a roller-coaster would, but other than that, it was very like a wooden roller-coaster.

The rest of the trip back to blessed pavement consisted of me smiling every time we came to those dreaded hills.

And my kids! They slept most of the way anyway!! Grr... though I am glad that they didn't get nervous like I did. It still infuriated me. It was nice they slept though cause it might have prevented the throw up. Sadly it didn't work quite the way it was supposed to. Goof Ball threw up before we got back to grandma great's house.

And now that the month is almost over, I suddenly remember that I love the smell of fireworks and haven't been to a single show. *sigh...

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Traveling worlds

I have never been good at self discipline. It is that very reason why I don't practice my trumpet even though I know it to be good for my lungs. It is also because I take for granted the talent I was born with, the trumpet. Though I understand that I could become even more amazing (I flatter myself...) if I practice, I just don't. I have never been good at keeping goals, sticking to an exercise routine, and I haven't even tried to stick to a diet. I just know that I would fail.

Sometimes I feel like I have been spoiled all my life. Sure I'm a younger kid in the line, and supposedly, the younger ones get a bit more spoiled than the older ones. Not that I particularly feel like my parents gave me special treatment or anything. They did their best to prepare me for living in a world without them. It isn't their fault that I ignored (or at least tried to) everything they tried to teach me because I was lazy then and took everything for granted. I mean I literally took everything for granted.

I love reading. I love the experience I get from jumping into a world and living a life so different than my own. I love writing in my own world that flys to my fingertips when I sit at a computer and type. In fact, I love the joy and exhilaration of doing such things so much that it frustrates me when I get pulled away from them. When I have to wake up and live my own life. Wake up, Shay. Wake up and change the laundry, wash dishes, and clean up messes from three boys plus yourself.

I just don't have the self discipline to do such things. So I let the world around me go to waste as I live the world inside of the book that I am reading/writing whatever the case. When I am forced from that world I experience in my mind, as I said, I get frustrated and sometimes feel unruly anger fill me directed at my kids (as they are the most common distraction). Meals become drudgery and I can't wait until I can get back into the book. I stay awake for hours and hours (last night I didn't go to sleep until 2) without feeling tired, for I am living in a different world.

When I get to the end of a series or story I feel empty inside and long to dive into a new one. You wouldn't believe how many mangas I am following right now, waiting for one more chapter, just one more chapter. Some stories influence me so much that I sometimes feel like I am living in that world even when the book isn't in front of me. I find myself thinking things that the characters would think. My dreams become overruled by the stories.

Maybe there is something wrong with my brain.

Every once in a while I start thinking and wondering to myself. I wonder why I can't stop reading to take care of my house/family. Is this some sort of addiction? Am I just trying to avoid feeling something that I am not consciously aware that I am avoiding? I have already learned that when I begin to feel numb, I turn to books to try to erase the existence of 'Shay.' So what is it? How possible is it that everything I read is so good that I get lost inside the story, so lost in fact that I don't even want to return?

With all these doubts and thoughts, it is inevitable then that I start to question my worth as a wife, a mother, a person. If all my actions are pointing to wanting to disappear into books, then wouldn't it just be easier to believe that that is all I am worth?

I feel like I'm rambling. Very possible and understandable (in my opinion and as this is my blog, you get to read my opinion... I pity you...)

I don't know what to do with myself. I know there are lots of responsibilities at being home owners that I am neglecting. There are things that I should be doing even if we were living in apartments. Laundry. Dishes. The 'everyday.' I feel like I am in a slump that I can't get out of. Reading, writing, causing myself to disappear and lose track of time... it really is like being part of a story. You know those dimension traveling novels/series where the time travels differently? Narnia for example. When I read or even work on my own story, that actually happens. Time travels faster in this world where you all live, and all of the sudden the spell breaks and I look at the clock to realize that it is 2 in the afternoon and I hadn't even fed the kids lunch. (what about your hunger pains, Shay? - I don't have them. End of story.)

Is this normal? Am I going insane? Should I try harder to not get sucked into the black hole of books so that I can face the thing I may or may not be trying to avoid?

When I start questioning these sorts of things, my self worth, what little of it there was, disappears and the only thing I can do to live is to bury myself inside the stories of others once again.

Why does everything have to be an endless cycle of doom?

Saturday, July 16, 2011

2 weeks and 3 reunions later...

I am very tired. And ready to be in my own house. We are all sick of our wonderful car who kept us from dying on a 50 mile+ dirt (ATV worthy) road. There were a total of 3 throw ups within our crazy expeditions, two we had to clean up as they were from Goof Ball, and Bug is old enough to know when he is going to puke, and we have been accustomed to keeping a puke bucket in the car. One of the throw ups was in our new car seat.

Course, all these things could be their own post, but I will try to narrow them down within the three different reunions. I am currently too tired to do more than this quick summary.

I will update you all when I find the energy. Which may be a month from now... ^_^

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Lazy Laundry Day

Truth be told, I should have worked on laundry yesterday. Somehow though, 5 o'clock came out of no where and Pro Boxer was making dinner (probably cause I didn't realize how late it had gotten).

I went to bed late last night. Around 1. I suppose one would call that this morning, but I don't consider it the next day until the sun starts to rise. Well, my usual thing is until I wake up again, but the sun rising boarder works better for all-nighters. Which I don't do these days. Unless of course I run across a really good manga or something and just can't stop reading... It was like that a few weeks ago when I was reading a book by Brandon Sanderson, The Way of Kings... I just couldn't stop reading some nights and I would lay in bed reading until near 4.

Ah... anyway, this morning I woke up and just didn't want to get out of bed. For obvious reasons, one of which going to sleep around 1:30 or so. But there was more than that... I hate not knowing why I don't feel good. Right now, I feel a little headachey, but more than that, I feel dizzy sometimes and nauseated others. Maybe one causes the other? Maybe the headache causes the dizziness which causes the nausea? I didn't truly begin to feel nauseated in my bed until I sat up for a bit. Whatever the case, my headache isn't like normal ones for me. In fact, probably due in part because of my other uncomfortable feelings, I hardly notice my headache. Most times these days when I have a headache, I know it. And so does everyone else in the house.

And so... I have decided to try to take it easy today. The house is a disaster area, I am still in pjs, but... laundry must be done. So laundry is the one and only thing that I will force myself to do. I may try to catch up a bit on the overflowing dishes, but don't count on it.

Also, last week was spent entirely camping. I will try to remember to post the happenings soon, but if I forget, please remind me. I really do have some thoughts to discuss about them... but my brain is swimming in dizzy soup right now, and I can't really think properly to do so currently. Or maybe the dizzy soup will cause me to be more creative... I haven't quite figured myself out yet.

Look forward to it?

Saturday, July 2, 2011

Of snakes and snails and puppy dog tails. And red blood.

My afternoon was tiring. We were out shopping pretty much all afternoon. We had a late dinner around 8ish (Kraft mac n' cheese ftw?) and after that I started to get a bit overwhelmed by the idea that I had to do the first step of making Frog Eye Salad because it needs to be refrigerated overnight. Granted, I could have easily done it tomorrow, but I was set on getting the hard part over with and done tonight.

While washing dishes, I realized that we needed to bathe the kids tonight too and with Pro Boxer having to go back to the store (why is it that when we are already so freaking busy, we forget things at the store???), and having to plan our lesson for primary tomorrow, I was certain that we wouldn't be able to get everything done. Pro Boxer got the water running and bathed the kids under the idea that he could go to the store while I started making the Frog Eye Salad and the kids played in the tub.

At one point of making the sauce for the Frog Eye Salad, I have to stay at the stove and stir. At said point, Bug comes running out of the bathroom, stark naked and announces that he is done with the bath. I tell him to get dressed then. While Bug is downstairs getting his underpants, Goof Ball started crying. I assumed it was just because Bug wasn't with him anymore. They are brothers, and as such get on each other's nerves frequently... but they are also best buds. So, still glued to the stove as I was, I holler down to Bug to come back up and keep Goof Ball happy. Bug does, only with underpants on. After a few seconds of Bug going back to the bathroom, he comes back to the kitchen.

"Goof Ball has blood everywhere!" (or something to that effect...)

My heart on overdrive, I direct Bug to get a chair to the stove so he could stir the pot. I should have just given up on the stupid thing, but I guess I wasn't really thinking properly. After quickly directing how to do it (he has done it a little bit before anyway) I rush in to find Goof Ball standing in an empty tub, blood all over his face, in his hair, down his belly, on his leg, and all over his hands. I can't believe I didn't fall down right then and there and start sobbing hysterically. Somehow, miraculously, I kept my cool and went up to him to find my razor that I always keep on the shelf thing hanging from our shower head in the tub with him also with blood all over it. I directly take that and put it back where it goes. I can't for the life of me think of how it got down there.

My body operating almost completely on shock, after Goof Ball puts his hands on the side of the tub, wanting to get out (go figure, all he wanted was to get out) I get a toilet paper and wipe up the blood on the side of the tub. Trying to keep calm, I think, I should get him cleaned up at least... Almost a funny note, I remember thinking to myself... What would Pro Boxer do right now? I had no idea where he had gotten hurt, so I figured trying to wipe him up would be a good step. So I turned the water on and a couple of inches filled the tub again. I tried to get him to sit down, but he didn't want to. I at least got him to put his hands in the water and they got rinsed alright. Then when he stood back up I noticed a large amount of blood on his thumb.

Keep in mind that I was unable to think coherently at this point. I was just trying to be busy so I wouldn't start to freak out. Through my numb haze of a brain, I remembered - Pressure. I grabbed the toilet paper I used to wipe the tub and put it on his thumb and held it tight. Goof Ball didn't cry one bit once I got in there which just leads to believe that he just wanted to get out of the tub. I called up Pro Boxer (thank heavens his phone hadn't lost batteries until AFTER the phone call) and he was in the check out line. If he hadn't been that close to coming home I would have told him to screw the food and just get home. He can operate in these situations with much more calm....ness than I can.

After talking to Pro Boxer, I yelled out to Bug if everything was okay, and started to doubt my previous decision of having a naked 5 year old boy watch a pot that was supposed to be stirred constantly. So, seeing that Goof Ball's feet weren't bloody, I take him out, still holding his thumb and we walked to the kitchen and I take over the stirring responsibilities. I allowed Bug to eat the small marshmallows that we were going to use for the Frog Eye Salad, making sure that he gave some to Goof Ball as well who was, by this point, trying to get me to take my hand off of his. I once took a chance to see what the wound looked like. It is several (some pretty deep in his small thumb) cuts in the tip of his thumb. The one time I tried to look at it, blood flowed instantly to the area and I almost started to freak out, so I covered it up quickly.

After a while the mixture seemed thickened enough, and I asked Bug to get a bowl for me to put it in. After that happened Pro Boxer got back and his eyes got just as big as mine probably were at seeing such a small boy covered with so much blood. And of course, when he got there, I completely broke and told him everything that happened, sobbing, almost hyperventilating while he (like I knew he would) calmly took over the situation.

Under my better judgments, Pro Boxer insisted that I take a picture of Goof Ball's face before he washed him up (though I know I will be glad of his insistence in coming years). So here you are... If you look close, you can see his hair caked in blood too.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Family bed

I have posted earlier about becoming a bed for Goof Ball every once in a while. He is very cute. It seems that it is turning into a daily ritual. Sleep on mommy around 10:30 to whenever he wakes up. Every day. Sure, fine. He is adorably cute, and if I truly had a problem with it, I wouldn't let him sit on my lap because that would bring about the consequences. I kind of expect it these days.

Well yesterday, for the first time in... years? Bug fell asleep on me as well. I must be more comfy than I thought. It certainly wasn't at the same time, they would fight over me too much if I tried to have them on my lap at the same time for me to even try.

It was really cute.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

"Ogres have layers..."

And they seem to be more like onions than parfaits. "Ain't no one out there who's gonna say, 'Oh I don't like parfaits!'" I feel that I am very much like an ogre... and an onion. "Because you smell bad?" Maybe. But that's not the point.

Ok, ok, enough Shrek quotes.

Depending on how long you have read my blog (or how far back you have gone in the archives) you know that I just can't get enough of roller-coasters. Particularly the invisible emotion-like ones. Believe me, if I could just jump off, I would, but once you sit down and they strap you in, you are stuck until the stupid ride stops. It turns out that since this post, I have found a new layer of that stupid rotten though onion to peel off.



I hate to think about it or admit that I might have more to go through. At least I just bought more Oreos just the other day (along with the Waffers... my two loves were battling it out the whole way through the store, stuck in the same cart the whole way). I have been trying to watch what I eat and exercise more... but keeping my sanity through all this just might be a bit more important, no? Particularly when I have little people to take care of. Don't get me wrong... I will still try to keep up with the exercise, because I know that helps brain function and whatever else. Emotions and... this isn't a health blog by all means. Go to a different site to know how much exercise helps. I DO know the benefits and will try to keep it up. What I meant about the Oreos is, if I find I need them, I won't hold back like I might have earlier.

Monday, June 27, 2011

An Oreo Affair

There aren't many cookies that can act as rivals to my precious. Oreo tops almost all of my charts. Obviously, as I dedicated a blog to them and was even obsessed enough to find symbolism in them. How insane can one get, right?

Waffer Cookies. Do you know what I'm talking about? Not the Vanilla Waffers (that are circular almost bread-like things and no frostingesc goodness at all)... Waffers. These guys:
Now, I normally go for the strawberry ones... Oreo's still beat on the chocolate flavor, and the vanilla flavor is also quite good. If there was going to be any sort of runner up for my favorite cookie, these would be it. Sadly, however, they aren't as easy to find as they once were. Are they going out of style? Keebler I believe had a line of these, but I haven't seen them in a while... I can only ever find them sold in generic brands these days. Not that I can tell much of a difference, to be honest. I only worry that I won't be able to find them at all...

In any case, I splurged today when I went shopping and got these. Sad to say I am quite hesitant to share my Oreo's with my kids... (hence I eat them only when the kids won't notice) but these I will consent to sharing. :) It was fun to snack on these after we got in pjs (like my sis... I just love pjs) and dip them in milk together. :)

Hurray for days that end with smiles and sugar.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Mommy's a person?? No, you must be joking me! She's a bed!

In church when I was younger, I enjoyed laying down on my mom's lap and sleeping. She had a very comfy lap, though she may somewhat despise the reason for said comfyness. Heck, I despise why my lap is so comfy, she must have at some point. Oh wonderful baby fat...


I breed mamma's boys. As far as Little Angel is concerned, I'm not sure if he was... he was for the two months that he lived, for obvious reasons... I was his source of food. As for Bug and Goof Ball, they are very much mamma's boys, so I would assume that Little Angel would have been too. In any case... the fact that they are both mamma's boys makes for difficult situations. Sometimes I am a possession that they fight over like a favorite toy. More than a favorite toy. Sometimes I am the cureall bandaid that just makes everything better. I can even heal things that are invisible like banged up feelers (feelings). Sometimes I become the most comfortable bed and pillow known to the world... but even more magical than that is the fact that the bed can walk. *gasp!

Some days I think I enjoy that they love me so much that they want me in every aspect of their lives. Some days... not so much. It is especially difficult when they both want me at the same time. Despite all I can do, sometimes there is just not enough of me to go around. Who knew that more of me, me was wanted in this world.

Goof Ball has pretty much graduated to the one nap a day routine. I put him to bed right after lunch. But then there are the mornings when he just can't get enough of me and insists on sitting on my lap while I write or whatever. On those mornings he just gets so darn comfortable on my comfy remains of his baby fat (along with Little Angel's and Bugs... ahem...) that he ends up falling asleep and I turn from a writing mommy into a bed and pillow. On such days I still give him a nap in the afternoon, just a little later than right after lunch.


This morning was difficult. Both the kids were screaming and demanded my every attention. I knew I should have gotten out of bed when they were both still asleep. I didn't have one minute to myself to recuperate. When Pro Boxer tried to get one kid to calm down... well that just diminished the competition for Mommy's attention and I was still overwhelmed by (mainly) Goof Ball as he insisted that I become his transportation. For if I hold and hug and cuddle him while sitting down he gets upset.

And yes, I now have a sleeping baby on me. It is amazing how much more heavy he can get when he is asleep... Don't get me wrong... I love having him sleep on me. But... as demanding a person I am I would rather have it on my schedule, not his. He is also excessively warm when he sleeps on me. This usually happens only in the morning when I am at my computer. When there is a window right to the east of me and the sun shines in and... by the time he wakes up I will be a pool of sweat.

Whatever... he is cute anyway.

Sunday, June 19, 2011

There are times...

... when I just want to disappear into the internet.
... when I don't want to make dinner.
... when I refuse to do dishes.
... when laundry piles up because I am lazy.
... when life seems to get more and more challenging.
... when flowers I received on my birthday don't cheer me up.
... when I feel like I can't do anything.
... when writing is difficult.
... when I feel that my sketches are worthless.
... when I wish to throw my kids out the window.

There are also times...

... when Bug gives me a hug when I am down.
... when Goof Ball smiles and babbles so cutely.
... when Pro Boxer gives me a kiss and a little squeeze.
... when writing comes easy(er).
... when I smile because of Bug's simple logic.
... when dinner is prepared and delicious.
... when I turn up the music and dance while washing dishes.
... when the plants in my care actually survive (*gasp!*).
... when I have the patience and stamina to read the same book to my kids over, and over, and over, and over, and over...
... when Goof Ball cuddles me, and I make time for them.

Sometimes life gets hard. But life will never make way for you, so you just have to make way for life. The past few days were hard. Friday... well I'll not even go into all that happened that day. Best part of it was giving a sketch to my niece and seeing a friend I hadn't seen in forever at her wedding reception. Saturday was one scream after the other, and I never had a chance to recuperate. Thank goodness for good friends who helped me escape such chaoticness and for a hubby who allowed me to leave minutes after I woke him up from his nap. Pro Boxer had to work all weekend. Yes... even a portion today. I was worried that by today the kids and I would be so sick of each other that the day would be filled with even more anger and stress than the last two days combined.

Thankfully I was wrong. I think I am starting to really learn the difference between childish and childlike. Go on a walk with a child someday, and you will understand too.

Friday, June 17, 2011

"Whaddya mean you cooked the [rice cooker] Charlie?"

This post has been long overdue. Mainly because it happened a long time ago I kept forgetting, mainly because I am a mom with lots of other things on her plate.

A few weeks ago, on a Sunday, in fact... it was the first Sunday this month. I know that, because Pro Boxer was heating up some water after church so I could have some Postum. We have very little of that left, as Kraft is no longer producing it... (curse you Kraft!) but that is a post for a later date.

We have a flat top stove. You know... the kind that is just... well, flat. And you can see the little circles to put the pan on, and it just kinda heats up. Whatever, you know what I mean, I'm sure. In any case, he put a pan with water in it on the stove and turned on the burner. I was busy getting things ready to visit family. Then suddenly I heard a bang and a shout from Pro Boxer. I ignored it assuming he had things under control.

He did... to a point. We are essentially lazy people, and keep dozens of things on the stovetop. It acts as a catchall/second counter for us to put things. The rice cooker still was there from when we last used it. We don't have a whole lot of plug-in places, and the stove is pretty much the best place to put the rice cooker when we use it. In any case, Pro Boxer turned on the wrong burner. He turned on the back instead of the front... and well... he cooked the rice cooker.
"Well, I cooked the [rice cooker] that's all..."

Yeah, we need a new one. We haven't even attempted to see if it still works. I took this after it had been thrown in the garbage. After I realized that it would make for a fun post.

I have smelt burnt/melted plastic before. But the smoke... oh boy, I couldn't even breathe. One inhale and I instantly started coughing. We had to open all the windows, turn on the fan in the front room, open the door... I escaped outside because I seriously couldn't stand the smoke. I can only assume that my severe reaction is because my lungs are already so delicate that inhaling something like that my lungs automatically rejected it. I have such reactions when I even smell cigarette smoke as well.