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 17, 2012

Without doubt there cannot be faith

Once upon a time there was a woman who trusted God more than she trusted anyone else.  People had done bad things to her, but she was able to live with it, because she believed that God would heal her one day.  She trusted her parents, because they taught her about God.  She trusted her siblings because they knew her and what had happened to her, and they still loved and accepted her.

The woman got married.

Her husband is one of the most patient people on the earth.  Despite the haunt of the woman's past that forced her to push her husband away when he only needed love, he still loved and accepted her.  He never got upset when she pushed him away, he only had love for the woman.

The woman started breaking.

So many times the woman bent on her knees begging God with all that she had to heal her so she wouldn't have to feel like she was being ripped apart every time she pushed her husband that she loved so much away.  There was nothing the woman could do.  It was either not push her husband away and live in memories of her past as he continued, or push him away and deal with the extreme pain that came from pushing him away.  Many times when the woman begged to be healed, she felt an extreme weight lift off of her shoulders and she felt free.  She felt like she had finally been healed.  Months past and her husband was able to enjoy every part of her without her memories haunting their relationship.

And then he'd come in for a kiss again and she would flinch.

After so many repeats, the woman started doubting.  Her extreme trust in God failed her.  She didn't know if she could ever really believe if she was healed or not, and was tired of the hope raising only to be smashed back down again with reality staring her in the face.  Any possible knowledge of her worth that she may have had dismissed.  If she really was worth something, why wasn't she healed yet?

Then one day, she realized the truth.

She realized that her whole life had been a lie.  She realized that she hadn't ever forgiven the person who hurt her.  And instead of loving him, she realized that she was filled with hate.  The bitterness and anger from 18+ years stared her in the face, and she realized that every thing that she had done, all her feelings, was an act.  Not only to fool the people around her into thinking that she was a loving, forgiving person, but also to herself.  She had been lying to herself for nearly her whole life.

She wasn't praying to God anymore.  She hated going to church and feeling like she was unworthy.  Once the woman came to a realization of herself, she didn't know what to do with it.  It had been bubbling and boiling inside of her for so long, that she didn't know how to deal with it.  She had always lived her life trying not to lie to anyone, and then she realized that everything in her life had been a lie.

Nothing made sense anymore.

One day she was thinking about the questions that a good friend had asked her.  How she felt about how God saw her and how that contradicted with the logic that God loves everyone and that everyone has worth in his eyes.  She didn't feel like she had any worth at all.  And then thoughts and questions came to mind, almost as if she were talking to someone else.  She tried to answer the questions as much as she could, but she still couldn't get out of her mind that she must be an evil person for hating the person who hurt her.  The thought came to her mind, "So you finally came to a realization of yourself.  It's natural to hate knowing what happened to you.  What matters now is what you will do with it.  So what will you do?"

She didn't know how to answer.

It stayed silent in her mind for a long while.  The first thing to happen after the silence is that the woman remembered about how she had felt to the person who hurt her.  Memories of the love that she had felt toward him.  Then the thought came, "See?  That's just a part of who you are."

The woman didn't know what to do.

She was confused again.  The logic and experiences weren't measuring up together.  Logic and feelings clashed.  Doubt and faith.  She hadn't even been thinking about praying when the thoughts started in her head.  She couldn't even be sure if she was actually talking to some spiritual being, or if she was having a conversation with herself.  She often makes a habit of that - while thinking about what she will say to someone, she thinks through the conversation in her head, predicting what the other person will say.  She didn't know what to believe anymore.

And so her life continues in a kind of limbo.  Not sure what to believe, not sure what to feel.

Not sure who to trust.

Sunday, November 4, 2012

And so the truth comes out.

Man I'm a really good liar.  I always thought that I'm not a very good one, but I must be if I'm able to lie to myself for 20 years or so.  I'm still not sure if I'm ready to post the lie on here or not...  I still haven't told any of my family (besides Pro Boxer) because I'm not quite sure how to bring it up or if I even should.  This revelation came around the same time as my crappy day mentioned in the last post.

So throughout my sibling's bringing ups, two fell off the gospel path - at least enough that they made an impact on the family dynamic.  My parents aren't ones to judge or disown their kids just because they don't go along with their ideals, religious or otherwise, but that couldn't stop the awkward times at religious occasions.  They are both finding their way back now all prodigal son like, and that's great.  Throughout my life, despite it's downfalls, I had always been gospel oriented and strived to always do my best and follow God and Christ and pray and read scriptures and all that stuff.  I never really once showed signs of severing from the path that my parents and ancestors laid out for me.  Only at this time, when my brothers are making their way back, is the time when I am falling off.

It makes me feel somewhat incompetent.  All the time people are talking about how strong I am and how it is amazing that I can do all that I do, with two kids, and still be so on top of things and excel in everything.

What me are they seeing?

I'm the weakest person that I know.  And I know that we are our own worst critics, but I really don't see the me that everyone else sees.  It is this exact reason why I hide and try to be so strong that those close to me won't even see the possibility of me breaking.  It is really why I work so hard to live up to their ideals, because if I don't, then everyone will see how truly weak I really am.  And I feel like I couldn't really live with that.

Someone told me that I'm just attention seeking (part of the crappy day mentioned in the previous post).  That's a silly thing to say to someone.  The only person would could EVER be able to decide if one is attention seeking is the person in question.  I personally don't think I am.  I may be a little bit, I mean... everyone is to a point.  I would almost argue that I'm the opposite of attention seeking.  All you can answer this: what do I do when the pain is too much?  I hide.  I try to become invisible and turn the emotions off.  I don't want people so see my pain (even me) so I try and disappear into things.  It never works (completely), I always have to return to reality.  But it is still my instant reaction.

I hope none of you think I'm attention seeking.  Remember that this blog is first and foremost, a place where I can get things out, no bars held, blood in your face kind of way.  Though it has lessened from that in recent months, pretty much because my mom asked me to censor it... but really... this is the only way.  Nothing held back.  I'm still holding back, because what I'm told by someone that I respect, I can't just ignore.  No matter how much it may hurt me.  Why not just write in in a personal (lock and key kind of deal) journal?  Well, that kind of defeats the purpose.  I'm tired of everything hiding in a closet like I did as a child.

And so the posting must go on.  Sorry if this one doesn't make much sense.

I had a pretty good day, all things considered... but my emotions are all still in an uproar and turmoil kind of thing that is hard for me to explain.  We'll see what tomorrow is like.

Thursday, November 1, 2012

On a happier note

I'm such a spoiled little brat.  I always kind of have been, and lately I have just been taking my good friends who are such a support to me for granted.  I still don't feel as if I'm worth their attention and love (I'm not sure I ever will), but I just wanted to let you all know that it's thanks to some of you, and many really good friends that are around me, some with similar morals, and some with very different morals, that stay with me, lift me up, and make me laugh at myself.  Love's to you all.  I hope you know who you are.

Today ended up to be very good.  It started really crappy.  I'm not going to be specific or the wound will probably open up again.  I ditched two classes, however, which turned out to be a rather good thing for my emotions.  I'm going to try and not make a habit of it, but it was nice because I could hang out with three of the above mentioned friends, and they made me forget life for a while and feel like maybe I do enjoy this thing and that I'm a fun person.  Then marching band happened - I always feel better after a band rehearsal (unless it was really horrible...) and then brass choir which was equally lifting (especially because Dr. Lion rehearsed with us and made us sound better than we are) and to top everything off, brass quintet.  I'll just have to say that brass quintet is one of my favorite ensembles to play in.  Today was an especially good rehearsal.  I wish that people in charge of education curriculum could understand and experience the power of music.  It really has healing properties... but I'm getting off topic.

So what started off as a really crappy day that seemed to only be able to go down, ended up as a wonderful one leaving me feeling great.

I could maybe get used to this feeling great.

Sunday, October 28, 2012

"How are you holding up?"

My response: "Good question, I'm not sure either."

Really, I'm not sure how I'm doing.   When I am engaged in something or around people, my mood could be described as happy, especially if I like the people I'm with.  But whenever I get home or otherwise 'alone', my mood shifts dramatically and I'm just staring.  Or immersed in a book, which isn't new information if you have been following this blog for a while.  I'm always finding something to hide in - some other person's imaginary life that I can hide in so I don't have to think about mine.  I'm likely on the verge of tears constantly, but I'm trained much better than that and when I need to stop crying and go do something, the switch is almost automatic.  I just decide to be numb and then I go do the thing, and the act continues.  I'm not even sure anymore if my emotions are real or fake.  When I'm with people, is that just acting, or am I truly being amused by the situation and the statements?  I don't know anymore.  And I'm tired of the question/greeting, "How are you?"  I know they all expect me to say "Good" and even though I say something less good than "good", they still don't realize that I'm lying and if they do realize, they don't care enough to want to understand the dark anger and bitterness living within me, so they go and pretend that I am doing good, because it makes things so much simpler.  Everything is an act.

I am in the middle of an emotional break down.  People keep saying that I'll get back up, but what if I don't? "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."  But what if it has been slowly killing me this whole time, and I just haven't noticed?  I haven't been getting stronger - I feel weaker by the day.  Everyone praises me for my strength - a good friend of mine didn't realize I was on the brink of tears and she said something jokingly which really did lead me to tears.  She apparently looks up to me so much that she thought that nothing could break me.  HA!  I'm apparently such a good actor that she thought that I was in a happy mood when in reality I was on the verge of breaking and her comment made me break.

And the worst part is I feel like I can't talk to my family about my problems.  I'm not sure how many of them read this blog, but even if they do, notice that I didn't mention any reasons behind my emotional break down besides the obvious, my dead son's birthday just passed and just merely the fact that my heart has been punched through so many times I'm surprised it's still beating.  Even when I tell my good friends, I feel like I'm saying things that I shouldn't be.  I'm in a cage, and I don't know how to get out of it.

Sunday, October 21, 2012

Children

How is it, that kids can tell when a parent is suffering?  I guess it may merely be a sign that we know each other well.  Or maybe my face is more vulnerable than I think it is.  The other day I saw a friend walk past my house through my window, and she didn't look toward my house.  I don't know what I expected, or why that lack of a glance caused me to start feeling weird, but it somehow brought on my depression.  I know for a fact that she cares about me a great deal, it isn't like that is a problem or anything, but somehow, it just started my downward spiral of negative thoughts.  Probably stemming from the fear that I'm not all that great of a friend.

I'm not on here to explore why I felt the way I did but to talk about what happened afterward.  Goof Ball was in the room with me and I saw from the corner of my eye that he was looking at me as my face fell.  We sat across the table from each other and after a few moments, Goof Ball got off his chair and walked over to me and laid his head on my lap and wrapped his arms around me as well as he could.  I can't remember much of anything happening after that, besides the fact that my mood picked up.  I didn't stay in the depressive slump as I normally would have.

I'm not really sure how to continue this post.  Children really are amazing.  It is surprising to me how observant they are.  How much they perceive and take in.  They really are a blessing from God.  And that subject gets me into why exactly I do the things I do to try and prevent any more blessings.  Though logic tells me that I haven't done anything that would get rid of my worth, I just don't feel worth any more blessings, and so I do things (or don't do things) so that I don't get more blessings.  There is no way that I can measure up to life and His expectations, so I have just fallen down so low that I don't want to even try anymore - at least not on a spiritual level - to prove anything.

This wasn't supposed to be a depressing post...

I'm glad that I have the kids that I have and that they are good for me.  Bug always used to cheer me up when I was down too.  He still does.  His habit (if you can call it that) lately is to put his arm around me and pat my back.  He's getting so big that eventually his arm will reach around my whole back.  I wonder if that would make me cry or not...

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Autumn Sky is so beautiful

Or maybe it is the contrast between the vibrant blue and yellow leaves, yet I just am in awe every time I see it.  I still can't quite figure out the difference between the color of the sky between the seasons, but it seems to be different somehow, more radiant, more beautifully blue.  I saw it today in the calm before the wind picked up and a rain storm ensued.

I wonder why, in one of the most colorful/beautiful seasons, all the plants are dying.  Is this God trying to tell us that death is beautiful, or just depressing because everything is turning an ugly brown?

I'm sorry I have been MIA for the past few months.  I have had a lot of emotional problems, and sad to say, because of concerned comments from my family (parents especially), I have been hesitant to talk about my problems on here, and use this as a personal counseling session as it has previously been.  I wonder if the lack of this has been making my problems worse, I'm not sure.  Family.  Friends.  Know this:  No matter how ******y my life gets, I will never EVER even think of committing suicide.  My faith is strong enough still (don't ask me how) that I have a sure knowledge that if I end up doing such a thing, my life will be much more crappy after I die than it would ever be down here, so I may as well suck it up and just keep going.  No matter how depressed or negative I get, suicide just isn't an option for me.  It never will be.

Another possible reason for my lack of posts may be the fact that I just haven't had as strong a testimony as I previously have.  In fact, it has been so bad that going back to look at previous posts of mine right after Little Angel died made me almost feel the need to throw up, they are so full of faith and happy gospel goodness that I just couldn't handle it.  Seeing where I am now, I wonder how I ever was that way before.  Yet I was, I haven't deleted any posts, you can go look for yourself.  Knowing that I used to be that way, I suppose I haven't wanted to disappoint my family/parents by letting them know just how bad off I was - in this regard.

I'm really tired.  My head really REALLY hurts.  I may be coming down with a cold.  I need to go sleep.  But I wanted you to know that I'm still kickin'.  Somehow.  I have really great friends, and though I don't understand why, they keep saying to me that I'm really great and one of the nicest people that they know, and blah blah blah compliment blah.  It's really strange that for someone who really doesn't believe that she has any worth, still works herself sick to prove that she is worth something.

I'm thinking of taking a bath before I go to bed.  Maybe that will help.

Then again... maybe not.  Baths can't revive the dead.

Friday, July 20, 2012

Summer:

The time to rest, the time to play, the time to get my house back in order, the time to prepare for next semester.  The time to be lazy.

And "lazy" is about all I have done this summer.  Oh, I have tried to break out of it, but it always falls through.  Wii Fit every day!  Stomach program every day!  Cleaning program every day!  Practice Japanese!  Read to kids!  Sign kids up for swimming lessons!  Sign them up for the reading program at the library!  Practice trumpet every day!


You get the idea.

Despite all of my good intentions, I just can't win over myself.  I have NO self control, which is a problematic thing when I'm trying to be a more responsible adult.  Oh, I have done stuff... I have invited people over and we have watched anime.  I have almost completed a huge knitting project that is on hold as I wait for more yarn to arrive.  I have done... stuff.  But not stuff that I felt like I needed to do.  It has all been about what I have wanted to do.  I wanted to work out on the Wii fit every day - until the rhythm ones (like the marching band one, and kung-fu and boxing) wouldn't work properly and it claimed that I was half a beat late for every beat.  I'm a music person.  Such a thing is nearly impossible for me.  Oh, I wanted to do the cleaning program every day and keep our home in some kind of order - until vacation time came up and got me out of the groove.  I wanted to do all those crossed out things, but laziness always won over.  And as a result, my current jeans that have fit for years.... are starting to stretch to the limits.

As a result of doing way too much knitting all summer, I have started to possibly have problems with carpal tunnel.  Same repetitive motion, over and over, for hours, days, weeks... naturally that was bound to have an affect on me.  I went to a massage therapist and she worked out some muscles that were the root cause of the carpal tunnel, and she said that Pro Boxer could be able to do the same massages on me.  But we haven't once had him try and do it.  I should... it is free massaging, after all.  I suppose that comes into the laziness category as well.  Too lazy for a massage?  Or possibly too forgetful...

I took a few pictures, planned to write a story about them on here, and.... laziness.  Or possibly forgetfulness.  Either one probably works.

I hope your summer has been a great one.  I'm going to try and stand up and practice my trumpet and exercise and do things... but it may all fall through again.  My motivation doesn't stand up to my laziness.  But I'll try.  It is about the only thing I'm good at.  Getting back up and trying again.

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Thoughts and feelings

I have had this window open for the last few days, reminding myself to post.  There are a few things weighing on my mind, but I'm not quite sure how to put them into words just yet (a very vexing feeling for a writer...).  I have wanted to post, and intended to post - but the words just won't come to my mind on what I want to express, nor how to do it.

Maybe eventually I'll get to posting a real post (because this one is a fake - I tricked you, didn't I?), but it will have to wait until my confused mind will be able to do it justice.

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Musical nerds at work.

This is just awesome. Get holes in your garden hose? What else to do but make an instrument! Enjoy.

http://www.wimp.com/coolestmen/

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Passion

I just started thinking today about my family, and it made me start to wonder what I'm passionate about.  I have lots of brothers and two sisters.  The more I think about them, and their passions, makes me think about me.  Most of the things that my siblings are passionate about are worthwhile things.  Running, their job (photography), making healthy meals for their kids, insuring worthwhile activities for their kids, music/trumpeting (again job), the gospel/faith that we were all raised with...

And then there's me.  I like writing, I like drawing, I like playing my trumpet, I like reading books (novels and manga), I like watching anime, I like playing with my kids, I like knitting, I like cross-stitching.  But of all of these hobbies, the ones I would say I could be considered "passionate" about would be reading manga and watching anime.  Neither really has much to do with a job that I'm planning on having... and in general, they just tend to be an excuse to sit around on my butt and laze around all day.  Watching anime usually is combined with knitting... but the fact is the same - they aren't exactly worthwhile uses of my time.  Sure I could use the excuse that I'm just recuperating from my very busy semester, but after a whole month... that might not go over so well anymore.  And for the most part... that is almost all I have done this month.  I have cleaned when needed, and made ... maybe one or two healthy meals for dinner.  I have things lined up that I intend to do, but having not done them in this long while, it is starting to make me think that I'm really just a lazy person.  When I have nothing else that needs to be done, I just lay around and do nothing.  I intend to practice my trumpet more this summer so I won't have to work up to my talent again at the beginning of Fall semester, I intend to work out more so that I'll be in shape come marching band season; I intend to have my trumpet professionally cleaned and get the dents knocked out (thanks to the money from my Jazz scholarship); I have all these intentions, but none of them have been accomplished.  And the cause of the problem that I have come to is that maybe I'm just not passionate enough about the things that I'm doing.  Oh, I had passion before - that is what got me in the mess of having so many hobbies.

When all I see ahead of me are months and months of no agenda, I send the kids downstairs to play on the Wii, and I sit at my computer reading or watching anime, or just mainly wasting time (often on Bacefook).

I hate self realization times like these, because when I come to this realization, I have two choices.  Get off my lazy butt and go do something, or give in and just continue on the path that I am already on.  And I usually tend to pick the latter.

Friday, May 11, 2012

Grades and summer projects

Tis a lame title that lacks creativity I know, but I decided to get right to the point.

Apparently curiosity won over fear of seeing the grades... I passed all my classes.  The other two English classes and Japanese are all in the B range.  Wind Orchestra was an A of course...  But my gpa fell below a 3 again... I hope I can get it up to at least a 3 before I graduate. That is my goal.  One more year to get it.  It'd be cool to wear cords around my neck... but that will most definitely not happen.

So now that summer is upon us, I am working on this:


Tis a coat.  The front is really pretty too, but I can't find a picture of that on the internet.  I saw this advertised in a Vogue Knitting magazine, and loved it from the start.  The front has buttons that go all the way down.  Of course I'm still working on that blue sweater for someone else, but after doing the same thing over and over, I decided to spend the time doing something for myself.  And though this will be the same pattern repeated over and over all the way up... there are different cables in there - and that changes things up enough that I think I won't get bored with this one as easily.  Well, we can hope. ^_^

I have other things on the back burner, but this is my main project that I would like to get done for next winter.  It is made with really thick wool yarn, and Pro Boxer keeps saying, "That is going to be really warm."  Yes... that is my hope. ^_^

So good news all around.  I guess a lot of you readers out there were waiting for that for some time.  Hopefully I'll have enough rest this summer to be able to tackle one more year of college.  Knitting and working on my story are both things that I think will help me rest sufficiently.  Especially if I get to show this off during the winter... I'm excited.

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Mommys make the best beds

So, school is out. I'm writing this with one hand so that this:
will not be interrupted. It is hard to type with one hand, especially when most of my keys are missing their label. Goof Ball missed me quite a bit this semester. One proof of that is the above picture. He has been particularly clingy lately. Even nearing the last week of the semester, whenever I was home, he would want to play or sit on my lap... both things are not situations that are conducive to essay writing, so I would stay at campus to work on my essays, which of course, escalated the problem.

I have found, however, that there is only so much of this (refer to above picture) that I can take. I love my children dearly, don't get me wrong... but I am in a transition stage. I am having to get used to spending so much time with them again, and I am sure it is the same for the kids. It is getting-used-to-each-other-again time, and I'm trying to be as patient as I can. The cuddles I can stand a bit better than other things.

Goof Ball is at a hard stage as it is. He is struggling (I think) with being the second boy. He is also struggling with independence - he wants to be able to do everything by himself (especially things that Bug does) yet he can't, because he is not yet old enough. To make up for it, he screams, he hits, he pushes - most of these are directed at Bug - and he tells people what not to do. "No" is a frequent word of his... as well as "Stop!" He is "master of the house" and he needs everyone to know and understand - and feed him cereal constantly. It gets to the point that come bed time, I am barely holding in the yells to get the two to go to sleep. Bug, as sensitive as he is, sees Goof Ball's actions as a sign that Goof Ball doesn't like him. Which of course, sets them both off, and they both need loves and hugs before they will calm down. And there is only one of me.

It's transition time again, and thankfully I'll only have to go through this one more time - that is if my grades will hold up, and I don't have to retake classes. All of my teachers reassured me that I would pass their classes, but I am still too nervous to check. I checked once - yesterday I think - and only one teacher had posted grades. I got a C. *wipe of the brow - it is a pass. I have to get at least a C- to pass. The next two I am the most worried about. They are the two classes that I had with the same teacher. Britain Literary History and Shakespeare. They covered the same time period and both very interesting classes, but I just couldn't do my best in them because of my job with The King and my writing class. In fact, I turned things in late and slugged my way through it so much that I wonder how the teacher can be so forgiving and understanding when I was shlupping it up in both of her classes! I felt horrible every time I had to e-mail her explaining another mess up.

Well what comes will come... I will check the grades again (maybe in a week - I need to muster up the courage again) and we'll see you on the other side.

One last thought... as Goof Ball is being so independent lately, maybe it might be time to start him on potty training...? Ponderous...

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Numb

As I suspected, I woke up numb this morning. I have been numb all day long. While in such a state, I desired to find a way to describe it - such is the mind of a writer I suppose. I go around every day, every second, trying to take in more sensory details and find ways to describe them. The other day I saw a 13 year old girl who had hair just lighter than my own. People used to say that I had "dirty blond" hair. I hated that. It made me feel like I was dirty and was lesser than people who had "pure" hair color. I didn't want to label that 13 year old with the same color hair as myself. And then the bus drove past a building under construction that had just recently added plywood for sides. Her hair blended with it perfectly. But then again... plywood colored hair isn't much better.

Anyway... numbness. Other people who aren't myself would probably define it as depressed. Whether or not that is true, this is what numbness is for me.

I get up and go through the normal labors of the day, skipping out on things that I absolutely abhor. If I don't need to do it, I won't. Funnily enough, my priorities are a bit skued when I am like this. For example, homework is a priority. I know that, because I got up at 5:30 this morning to do it, and I did it. I didn't finish it (for lack of time) but I did it. I didn't eat breakfast. Someone once told me that there are two people. Those who live to eat, and those who eat to live. I am of the latter. If it takes too much effort (I had to wash a spoon this morning to have my breakfast = too much effort) than I won't do it (usually). Especially when I am numb. I could feel the pangs, sadly when I am emotionally turned off, it doesn't do much for my physical self. Yet I didn't eat, and the pangs soon left me. People's defined "needs" get messed up in my mind. Maybe this is a reflection of what my priorities really are, but that can be a discussion for another day.

I range from extreme outbursts of laughter (that I'm still not sure are forced or sincere) to staring at the floor, unblinking until my eyelids shudder and force me to blink. When I am around people, I can act normal. When I am by myself, I disappear inside again and start staring again. Sometimes being alone includes sitting with a bunch of other people but none of them take notice to me, or if they do, they ignore me and turn away probably not knowing what to say.

I also found today that when I am like this, I do not need people to hug me and tell me what a great person I am. Don't tell me of all the good things that I have done or am doing right now. I will not believe you, and I believe that it will turn me inward even more, wanting to prove that I'm not as great as you think I am. I need someone to tell me how horrible I am, and tell me things that I do wrong. Showing me love when I am like this won't improve my mood - for my emotions are turned off and I'll turn more stubborn because I know that I don't deserve any such thing.

No one ever tells me that I do things wrong (no, not even when I'm NOT depressed). No one ever tells me that I'm bad or that I need to do better in anything. I know that I am not perfect - yet no one ever tells me off or seems to dislike me or anything. People I talk to about this even say that no one talks bad about me when I'm not there either.

Why can no one understand? Why am I so invisible?

I... don't know what to say anymore. And maybe my previous suspicions and beliefs above won't do any good. I hurt. I can't stand it anymore. I can't stand myself anymore. Yet I can't sit here and tell you what it is that I hate about myself. I have no idea what reasoning this came from. It is just there. Buried deep within my soul, and I feel like shit. I can't understand why people look at me with such respect and befriend me. I don't know what to do to get it out, and I have lost faith in almost everything. The King told me once that I was lying to myself and that I did believe that Christ has the power to heal and help me. It is likely that is certainly true. I do believe that. But I don't believe Him. There is a nifty little book out there (that I have started a few times, but have never finished) called Believing Christ. I believe in Christ, as in I believe he has the power. But I don't believe that he will. Not for me. Humility on steroids. You could maybe say that I'm so humble that I have lost all hope. There is no reason why I would ever be good enough to be saved, or healed or anything. No reason at all. (I can see it now, all my Mormon family and friends saying, "Oh, but there is! Because you are a child of God!")

I have forgotten who I am, I suppose. Because I can't believe that. I have been singing it since I was a toddler. But I can't believe it. I'm not sure I ever believed it. I always strove to show my worth, to prove my worth, to work so hard and earn two young woman medallions (I was about to "graduate" when they changed from one to the other. I finished the old one, then did the new one.) After living this long in my life, I'm finally beginning to realize that all that I have done has done nothing to prove my worth. I take on more than 19 credit hours work to prove my worth and fail in many aspects, and sometimes can't find the strength to go on.

Christ has the power, I have no doubt of that. But I have many doubts that he would use any of that power for me. There is nothing amazing about me. I'm just one more soul on the earth - one more of thousands of millions.

Monday, April 16, 2012

Roller coaster

I should be in bed asleep. But I knew I had to document this day.

There have been many times in my life when I have gotten compliments. More than I believe I deserve. I hardly ever know how to respond, my mom always advising, "Just smile and say 'Thank you.'" Eventually I got to the point where I did that, even if I rolled my inner eye.

There are few people that I respect so highly that I get nervous around them. Dr. Lion is one, The King is another (look back in previous posts if you don't remember them). I just realized that my dad also is another. I never realized that, but the symptoms are similar. It may be that I respect my dad the most because I don't want to disappoint him to the point that I have kind of built a wall.

But that can be for another post.

Whatever the case, This post is about Dr. Lion. I worry about posting this, because I fear it may hurt people, but this blog is for me... and I need to talk about it somewhere.

Anyway, a few days ago Dr. Lion mentioned how they got a donation and that he divided it up and that some people would be getting more money for their scholarship. A few days later I got a check. The price raised my eyebrows and I didn't know what to make of it. I wondered if the university combined the extra scholarship money and the money that I expected for my job. I e-mailed Dr. Lion to talk to him about it, because I was certain that it shouldn't be that high. He responded to come talk to him in person (which I expected him to do). Today I talked to Dr. Lion about it - because I need to know what is income and what is scholarship.

He looked it up on his computer and said, "The figure you mentioned in the e-mail was correct."

He turned back to me as I stood by his desk and looked at his monitor. He talked a little bit about how the money was received and dividing it up, but I didn't understand, nor did I understand why he was telling me. Suffice it to say that he did mention that he didn't see me as a "nonmajor" and that he wished he could do more. I can't remember any specific words anymore, but I hope you get the idea that he really laid the compliments down.

Accepting compliments from a friend or even an acquaintance is much different than receiving such compliments and respect from someone that I look up to so much. I literally didn't know what to do. After all the practice I had with just smiling and saying thank you, that's what I did. But all the rest of the day, I didn't know how to react in front of him. He said in front of the whole elite band during rehearsal that I was playing a certain rhythm correct. Out of the whole band, he said, "Shay is doing it right." 8 trumpets. I'm not even first chair, yet he pointed me out and said that I was doing it right. I don't know how to respond to this. Things like this affect me more than I want them to, and I feel that I turn into a different person.

I believe that I can say that I am feeling the effects of being in my "prime." I can honestly say that I have never played better. My range is increasing at a rate that I never would have imagined - especially for not particularly practicing (or really any practice) to raise it. My skill, my technique, my tonguing, my endurance - everything is worlds better than I have ever done before. But I just feel that music majors do so much more and deserve the money that I was given.

But you can't have a roller coaster without the dip back down.

I recently contemplated mentioning on here that I have begun to believe that I have been healed - and didn't even know it - from the abuse in my past. The last month (or more) I have not had one problem with being with Pro Boxer. Nothing he has done has made me uncomfortable. And we aren't talking minimal contact like we have had a good portion of our marriage.

I'm not even sure what I'm expecting with being healed. I just want to be a normal person. If such a thing even exists. In any case, I had to walk a good distance in the dark - by myself. I have a very large imagination which can be problematic in such situations. I imagine myself up a nervous breakdown. After I got inside it took a few minutes until I became numb from all the anxiety that the darkness gave me. I'm 26 years old, and I still jump at the sounds in the dark. Particularly outside. When I am around people I can ignore the sounds and my imagination and be fine. But I was alone.

I experienced first hand the evilness of the world - and as such, my imaginations can be very real. I wonder if I will ever be free of this, but deep inside I feel that I never will be. Or maybe that is despair.

Well, I should be asleep. Tomorrow is another day - I'm not sure if I will start it numb or not (I still am numb - sometimes sleep cures it, sometimes not) but we'll get up and do our best in the new day. I guess that is what I'm good at.

Friday, April 13, 2012

All kinds of bands

Last jazz band concert of the semester = success. I was on such a high afterword - I looked good - I felt good - Pro Boxer was able to come - it was great. I made a few mistakes that I don't normally make (I hate how that happens sometimes for the performance) but overall, the concert was a success. Someone told me that I didn't make any mistakes at crucial parts, so that's good. After the concert, we had our usual pizza eating ... goodness. Dr. Pocket came to the concert (of course), and when he came into the band room, he saw me sitting on the raised floor with Pro Boxer eating our pizza. Dr. Pocket made his way over and complimented me about the concert. "I had my eyes on you, and you did great. You looked like you were having the most fun of them all."

"Well, I gotta dance up there," I reply, "because the music is all about the dance."

"That's right," he replied while smiling.

He went and got his food, and I continued to eat, overjoyed with the moment. Him "having his eyes on me" can have a double meaning. And though I sometimes try to not expect future things (because I hate being optimistic about things in the future and then get disappointed), I can't help but think that he will invite me to be a permanent member of his Corner Band when I graduate. That would be amazingly great.

And then on to Dr. Lion's band - the elite concert band at my university.

Last Wednesday, Dr. Lion did something that he had never done before since I have known him, and I loved it. Dr. Lion feels himself part of the band, not the leader of it. He puts us as his first priority, and he forces us to play with each other. So much to the point where he puts his hands behind his back and says, "Okay, play now." I tend to think that he does this more when we haven't been playing with each other. We just have to breathe together and play. Sometimes it is more difficult than others. Some rehearsal numbers we don't know who is playing or who is resting, all we can do is look around and see who has their instrument up and catch their eye, and breathe and pray that they play on the downbeat with us.

It is very nerve wracking. But the more Dr. Lion has us do this, the more fascinated with it I become. The whole room gets silent except for the loud fans that Dr. Lion always mentions when it is quiet. And it stays silent long enough for it to make me feel uncomfortable. I almost feel the need to squirm in my chair. Some people I think don't like the unusual silence because they try to break it by breathing and hoping that everyone else will with them. But for it to work perfectly, we have to sit in the unnerving silence for a second or two before all of the sudden from no where, a breath is lifted from the ground and we all start at the same time, at the same tempo. It is nothing but magical.

But that is all just back story. He has done this for a while. And it makes me smile after we are successful a few times he says, pulling out his baton, "Now let me join you to make me feel like I am doing something."

Last Wednesday he pushed us further. We have sat in a rectangle the whole week (another one of his tricks to get us to play with each other - usually on rectangle days he doesn't conduct at all, but walks around correcting each other or mentioning mistakes to people about other sections) and he started talking about concentration and how we are thinking about so many other things that it is hard to concentrate on the moment and the near future. Because when you play music, you can't just focus on the one note that you are playing, for that only lasts a second and then is history. You need to focus and think about what is upcoming. He told us to play our usual concert Bb chord and play in a scale up five notes and down, holding for 4 counts and resting for 3. This is a normal practice and we do it, but don't do it as well as we would like. He walks over to the light switch and starts turning the lights off instructing the percussionists to stop setting up for a moment.

The lights are all off, and it is dark enough that I can't see the people across the rectangle from me, and can even barely see the other players on either side of me.

"Okay, now do it," Dr. Lion says.

And I'm thinking... HOW??

The silence came (minus the fan in the ceiling) and then the uncomfortableness of all those people so silent in the same big room came. Then about 90 people breathed at the same time and played it nearly perfectly. He didn't even ask us to do it a second time - which he will if it isn't good enough.

If doing it in the light is magical - that was mystifying. The feeling I had when we did that - it is impossible to describe.

Today he did it again, and once he even did it and instructed us to play a section of music. Without sight. That terrified me once again. I swear, I will forever be astonished by this man. We did it, and somehow we got through it somewhat perfectly, as far as my ears could tell me. I know for certain that I didn't finger some notes right, but I did play the rhythm perfectly.

After the lights were on again, he said, "See? You know more than you think."

Another of his sayings that I will forever remember from last Wednesday was: "Feel the sound of the note." I just... I just love it. He is truly my favorite band teacher.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Weekend Report

Last weekend divided our family for a few days. Pro Boxer and the kids went to visit family in southern Utah, and I went to Flagstaff for a sorority conference thing. I felt obligated mainly because I shall be the secretary next year in said sorority (Tau Beta Sigma - a college band service sorority), and I felt the need to meet people that I would be in contact with throughout my last year of college.

Anyway, but it seems as if I missed a wonderful moment in time with my family. Pro Boxer and kids (and likely Pro Boxer's parents and grand parents) flew kites. That would have been fun just by itself, seeing the amazement on the kiddos faces as they watched the kite fly up so high, but it was even better than that.

When Pro Boxer told me this on the phone I felt like crying.

"When the kite flew up really high, Bug said, 'Little Angel can see it!'"

Sometimes I wonder if Bug remembers Little Angel or not. Even at times like this I can't be sure. But they sure are heart melting moments.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Just scratching the surface

As of late, I have attempted to explain how busy I am, how bogged down I am with everything, how close I am to breaking.

Last night I got 7 hours of sleep, but my brain was still fuzzy and weird when I woke.

The night before I got 2 and a half (probably the cause of my brain still being fuzzy).

I'm going for 7 (at least) again this night... but that all depends on how fast I can type my feelings and thoughts on here.

I finally thought of a great way to explain how my life is right now. And it is very nearly what I told the King a while ago (and posted on here, you might remember). I am reaching, scraping, clawing straining my muscles to the limit trying to accomplish everything I have to do to the best of my ability. Yet I'm always just under par. Just under my own personal expectation of myself. I know I can do better in each individual group, yet with everything, mother, primary teacher, UTF, Japanese student, English student (and all that entails - writing a bazillion essays, reading thousands upon thousands of words, watching movies for the Shakespeare class), wife, being true to myself and giving me the breaks that I need.... I'm falling just short in everything. And I hate it. I have said many times that I think I gave myself too much this semester. I don't think it. I know it. Spring break is coming up, and I plan on having a completely lazy day. I don't even know if I will change out of my pjs. It shall be known as my sleeping marathon. Not work on anything ANYTHING unless I feel like it (or unless it is absolutely needed - chitlin hugs, food... things like that). Even my story. Well... that one depends on if Dim (my muse) will talk with me or not. I probably shouldn't use up my creative energy for anything.

And hopefully with a whole week off, I will be able to recuperate enough to get through the rest of the school semester.

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Dr. Pocket

Yes, I'm introducing a new person on my blog. A mister Dr. Pocket. As in Corner Pocket. It is a great big band tune. Youtube it if you don't know it. It is awesome.

Dr. Pocket loves this song to the point of requesting (or maybe demanding) it played at his funeral. Hence his name. Dr. Pocket retired about 8 years ago. But for someone who is retired, he spends an awful amount of time still in contact with the music department. His instrument is the sax. He's still pretty amazing. 8 years ago was our first dance gig that we made in honor of Dr. Pocket (and also to help fund the jazz scholarship - also named after Dr. Pocket). It is now an annual tradition, and we play Corner Pocket every year, and Dr. Pocket plays with us. The Monday before the three night gig, Dr. Pocket came to play with us in rehearsal so we could play to his liking and to give him a chance to play through the changes (which he could probably do in his sleep). We played it with him. I believe that I played as well as I always do on that song. I love the song quite a lot as well. The lead trumpet part is really fun.

We also played with him a little song called Things Ain't What They Used To Be - by Woody Herman. Youtube that also. It is a way fun song. Particularly for the lead player. I don't want to get too far into detail with this. The highest note in the song is a double high G. Suffice it to say it is wicked high, and lots of trumpet players have a hard time reaching it. Dr. Pocket improvised on the song with us, hence we had to play it for him. For the lead trumpet the song starts off going straight to the double high G. I hit it with Dr. Pocket standing there watching. He made his way back to us to holler at me, "I think I heard the ghost of Maynard Ferguson back there."

If you don't know Maynard Ferguson... you should Youtube him too.

With how legendary Maynard Ferguson is for his range, I was pretty happy with his comment. The lick (group of measures) that has the double high G occurs three times in the song. The beginning, the middle, and the end. As far as I can remember, I got them all. Not only that, but on the last note, I jumped the double high E to the G a third above it. The look on Dr. Pocket's face... I'm not sure I could ever explain it well. It made me amazingly happy. I have always wanted to impress him.

The run up for the three nights of 1 hour and 20 minutes of playing, naturally the higher faster longer songs all end up at the end. The first night I didn't do so well, in general. It seemed like the band just in general didn't play well that night. The next two nights, however, were a totally different story. The longer you play the trumpet, the harder it is to play high. Two nights in a row. I played those double high G's on Woody Herman's song. I even was able to bump up the last note for the very last song (Flight to Nassau) up to the infamous double high G.

Needless to say, I made quite the impression on Dr. Pocket.

Dr. Pocket is the owner/creator/director of a community (I think...) big band. I suppose we'll call it Corner Band to keep up with our Corner Pocket theme. When I first heard of the Corner Band, I wished to be in it. But it turns out that Dr. Pocket only picks from people who are in the community - alumni or are professors. It seems he only picks students when there is a shortage, and only those students that impress him enough. I know a few students who were invited. My little brother being one.

Well the time has come. Whether they have a shortage, or whether they just need a substitute, I'm not certain. I still need to call Dr. Pocket to find out the details. What I do know is that he specifically asked for me. He said to おっさん (ossan - old man... I call one of the professors this because he knows Japanese), "I want that girl, what's her name?" おっさん answered by mentioning my little bro who graduated last May. "She's his sister."

I landed a gig. I am not being paid for this gig, but just the fact that I have been specifically invited by Dr. Pocket... it just makes me tremendously happy. I have music that I need to look at. And yes, I am aware of how much this adds to my load that is already way too heavy. But I can't refuse. I have been worrying as of late what I'll do with my trumpeting when I graduate. With this talent... I don't want it to got waste when I graduate. That would make me very sad. But there isn't a whole lot of options where I live as far as community bands are concerned. But now I have been invited to participate in Dr. Pocket's exclusive band. I can't tell you how excited I was when I heard the news.

And to add powdered sugar to the top of my good news, Dr. Lion (remember him? look back in previous posts - there is one actually called Dr. Lion) complimented me twice today. One was kind of a duet kind of compliment, as it was for another person just as much for me. In class today, Dr. Lion asked us firsts to play a line quieter. And we did. He complimented me/us for that. And then when I mentioned that I'm getting a jazz scholarship, he complimented me about that too. He said it was "well deserved."

Things like this make me smile.

Monday, February 27, 2012

When you sit in the driver's seat of a car, you have the power to kill someone. Don't use your power stupidly.

I'm vegging. I have so much to do, I am drowning, and don't even know what direction to start swimming to survive.

I knew my breaking point was coming up.

I need to read practically an entire book before tomorrow, I need to revise a paper (that will suck because of stupidity on my part - I left the book that I am writing the paper on in my Japanese classroom today, so I can't add quotes to improve it like I had been planning. hence - stupidity on my part, and it will be a stupid essay) that I need to turn in tomorrow. Another paper thing due Thursday. 日本語しゅくだい every day. Kanji quiz and chapter test coming up... A state's load of work to do on my 30 page essay (at least I have finally decided the three topics). And I'm writing on here.

I have been having a huge struggle focusing as of late. If ever I do so for a certain amount of time, great. But I usually end up with a massive headache that may or may not go away with Advil migraine. Saturday I made part of a midterm. 3 hours later, I had a massive headache. I took medicine. It didn't do a blasted thing. Of course by that time, the headache had had the chance to sit and stew and settle itself in my head. But I can't focus with such a painful ... pain radiating in my brain. So despite all that I had to do, I did something completely different. Pro Boxer didn't clean up the house as much as I was hoping for that day, so I start to dig in. Into my own personal mess. The bombed out world under my drawing table. I did it, it felt nice. It is good and organized now. There are still a few things that are sitting around waiting for me to put them away away, but at least I know what is there, and where exactly it is. I didn't get to my desk either... it is still quite the mess. But, hey, I accomplished something. At least I didn't sit around on my bed waiting for the headache to go away. And whether it was the cherry Pepsi (*gasp! yes, I took caffeine!) or just the act of distracting myself that made the headache go away where the Advil migraine wouldn't.

Pro Boxer introduced me to cherry Pepsi. I like it a lot. And not because it has the power to get rid of my headaches (which it does). It is very tasty. Now I don't know if it is better for me to have pills or caffeine to help my headaches go away, but for someone who was unable to find any over the counter medicine that would get rid of her headaches (except Advil migraine - which only works if I take it with a budding headache), this is a pretty awesome revelation. And yes, I understand the possibilities of getting addicted to it to the point that it would cause headaches. Right now, I am going off of the assumption that my headaches are stemmed mainly from stress, lack of sleep (*eyes clock...), and tight muscles. I'm slowly working on the muscles. I'm trying to stretch out my neck slightly every day. Hopefully that will help.

I do not plan to get addicted to caffeine... but I can't deny that I really really like cherry Pepsi.

Why the sudden ode to cherry Pepsi? No idea. I can't focus. I told you that at the beginning of my post.

I'm at the point. I can break right here, right now. I can not revise my paper and turn in a crappy version of it tomorrow. I can not try and read as much of that book as I can for my nonfiction class, and have nothing to say about the book, and be completely lost during the period (or not go at all... *gasp!). I think I'm realizing that whenever I find myself at points like this, I usually tend to give up and crash. I still don't know what I'll do. Maybe this post is what will help me decide. If I go to sleep right now, I can almost guarantee that I'll crash. Mornings and me don't get along. Yet I'm so tired... maybe it would be better for me to crash.

And still I wonder what The King would say to me if I did crash. Would he feel any sort of guilt or blame? Would I want him to? - No. I have always, and probably will always take the blame for anything and everything.

Whether I sink or swim depends on my ability to stay awake. Or wake up early... but usually that path tends to crash - as I said... mornings and me don't get along. Whatever happens will happen, I suppose. But sometimes I wonder if I'm some sort of masochist, forgetting things and procrastinating for the purpose of abusing myself. The possibility is there... the possible motives are there. Maybe I want to prove to the world that I'm not really as great or as amazing as they seem to think I am, so I force myself to crash. Who knows? I doubt I ever will.

But for now, I'll go off to the land of homework and see what becomes of it.

Monday, February 13, 2012

I think I'm programmed or wired to be depressed.

I had an interesting thought today. I'm not sure I can explain it well.

Imagine a group of friends. Just about five or so. Expand them to about the size of a big band. Around 20 people. Let's increase even more... say about a hundred people. Maybe envision a football team, or a small marching band. Increase that marching band to about 200 people. They can do pretty detailed drills on the field now. Now take two of them... three of them... four of them. Ten of them. Grouped together in your mind in organized circles. You can't really see the individuals anymore, just a mass of heads in each group of 200. Now we have 2,000 people swimming around in our minds. Add on more and more. How many people can you visualize? Do you have any notion of how many people there are living in America? 1 mil is just a number. Get a large body of people together in your mind, and I ask you... can you visualize 1 million people? How much space would they take up?

I have often wondered when the world will end. Does it end when the last soul has been born into the world, or does it end whenever God chooses and we can have children during Christ's reign in the millennium? Whatever the case, my mind expanded today. I visualized hundreds of millions of souls still waiting to be born, and God near them, as if talking to them and explaining to them their task on the earth. My mind expanded even more and wondered how much bigger the group would have been when God presented his plan of the creation of this earth. I am probably not doing any of this justice, it was certainly an amazing experience that I probably can never explain well.

This earth had a beginning. By definition, it must have an end. "Forever," by definition is never-ending. So... If life after death is never-ending, logically, that means there must not have ever been a beginning.

So I began asking myself... What is the purpose of this life? "It's a test." "We are here to learn." "We are here to experience this life so we can know how to govern worlds that we possibly will be able to make." I've heard most (if not all) of the answers my church can give me. It seems my only choices are life in heaven with God, or burning in hell. But what is the point? What am I here for? How can I explain this...? I can't even say the question. I don't know if there are words to say the question.

There is no cease to exist option. Somewhere in that great beyond there has to be nothingness. But all of my above statements seem to contradict that. If my purpose here on life is to learn, and others out there in other worlds are there in their world to learn... won't we run out of space? There has to be something. There can't only be two options. Whether I will be building my own worlds or burning in hell for the rest of my existence (which gospel says will last forever), won't whatever it is become boring and "everyday?" Can one burn long enough for the flames to become a tickle or a caress? Another world here, another world there. To me, right now, forever anything is a depressing thought. Can't I just eventually... cease to exist?

When other people think about how big this world is (and yet how small), and how many people there on it now, and how many people that have lived on it before, and how many still are waiting to come, they start to feel grateful that God even listens to them and knows them by name, despite how many other people there are that he also knows and listens to. Me? I get depressed. It is nearly instantaneous. Why would He care about me? Why would He know me? Little ol' beat up me. In my mind, He has no obligation to care for me, not when so much has thrown me down and beat me to rubble.

Maybe I'm just wired to be depressed.

Thursday, February 9, 2012

Coming changes

I am writing this post to inform all my wonderful readers that I will be changing the content of this blog. I'm not deleting anything, goodness, this is almost journal for me. From here on out, I shall only talk of things not relating to my abusive past. If you are reading this blog only to learn from my experiences regarding that, I'm sorry. I have made a new blog (completely anonymous from this blog) exclusively for my healing process, and I'm debating giving you the link, because my original purpose for that blog was to give me a place to vent my anger, and bitterness, and whatever else I needed to get out - completely anonymous. And to allow myself to get as depressed I need to without feeling like I am worrying my family. If you don't know me, and was reading this blog solely with the intention of learning from that part of my life, maybe we can work something out, but I can't know that unless you comment on this post. While writing, and remembering why I made my new blog, I decided that for sure I won't be posting the link publicly. But if you wish to read that blog, you can put your e-mail address on my comments. I won't publish your comment on my blog, but I will e-mail you (and only use your e-mail for that one e-mail) the link.

That's the best I can do for you. If you are family, and truly wish to see of the ugliness within me (it will not be a fun ride) then I suppose I don't mind sharing it with you as well. But I won't be holding myself back on there. I won't think of you any less if you don't want to see it. Heck, I don't want to. But if you truly want to know, I won't keep that from you.

But you have been warned.

On a happier note, I had a pretty good day today, all things considered. Somehow (amazingly) I was able to finish all my homework and reading I needed to. I read Merry Wives of Windsor in less than 12 hours last night. I finished my 日本語 homework... though I'm not sure the sentences I made were actual sentences... it is amazing at how learning a new language can make me feel completely incompetent at being able to express my thoughts.

Yes, it has been a better day. We'll see how everything continues to play out. I may continue to post things about how I am feeling, but I won't delve deep into anything regarding the previous subject. And with that said, I shall now push the orange button that says "Publish Post."

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Bloody nose day

I didn't post this on my groundhog post, but groundhog day this year has been officially deemed by me as the bloody nose day. In my first class, one person left the room plugging her nose. I can only assume that she had a bloody nose. I don't personally get bloody noses very often, but yes, even me, in my fourth class started to get the bloody runs dripping through my nose. When I was writing a long essay question about the reading (which the teacher does sometimes instead of quizzes... I'll say here I like the long essay questions a lot better than quizzes, because I may have not caught on to what she put on the quiz). Naturally it would happen then. I'm sure the teacher would have allowed me to leave then and take care of it and write the quiz thing after, but I didn't want to worry about that. So what did I do? I grabbed my nose and tried with one hand to open the newly bought (good timing that...) package of tissues, which I have since learned is impossible. The person next to me helped me open it and get a tissue out. I held it to my nose (by this time the teacher had noticed my distress, and seemed about to ask me if I needed to take care of it) and I continued writing. It wasn't particularly pleasant, but ah well. I finished everything I had to say and left to take care of business. I talked about the experience with my classmates as we waited for our next class. I found it highly ironic that I should have a bloody nose on the same day that someone else in my class left class for it. Even more ironic? Someone in that next class also had a bloody nose. I come home and tell Pro Boxer, and what else?? He had a bloody nose as well.

It was a bloody nose day.

On to other things.

I don't know what to talk about. I have so many things, I hesitate spending the time updating you all, you all. Yet here I am. Maybe I'm just prolonging having to write a quiz that I have no idea how to write. There is a midterm that I'll have to start putting together... lots more meetings with the students still (tomorrow will be the last big day, but there are a few still after that), other things to plan for, lots of other things to plan for... Japanese club, Jazz Band stuff... Essay to write (I just turned one in today...), stuff. Just lots of.... stuff.

As for my emotional and spiritual health... there is lots of stuff to do with that as well. My ... employer? manager? whatever he is, the teacher that I'm working for (who shall be known on here as The King) seems determined to help me feel better about myself or maybe he just wants to fix things - he's a guy, you know? I'm not sure how much I have talked about The King on here, but let me give you a run down. He was my teacher for a class last year. No idea how much of an impression I made on him, but he made a pretty big (and very good) impression on me. The class was Beginning Creative Nonfiction. I was merely taking it to graduate. I knew I wanted to focus more on Fiction rather than... really anything else. But The King is such a good teacher, that he can make me feel like I can do what I once thought impossible. It is all because of him that I am now taking the Adv. Creative Nonfiction. He got me to love it. There is something somewhat liberating about writing about my own life. Which is maybe why I continue to post on here, I suppose. Maybe I always loved it, but he got me to realize that. I call him The King (only on here) mainly just as an inside joke that only I get. Well, he would too if he ever read my blog, which I doubt.

Whatever the case, I must have made some sort of positive impression on him, because when it came to choosing a TA for his class this semester, he came to me. He called me up telling me that he needed to give the people a name that day. Which leads me to believe (I have never asked him) that he didn't really know that he had to pick someone and he had to make a snap decision. Whether or not that is true I have asked him once why he picked me. I hadn't applied, in fact, I had to go through the application process after I had already landed the job. His reply? I was on his short list of people that would work well. Smart, well-spoken, reliable, motivated. But "for reasons [he didn't] quite understand, [I] seemed like the right choice." And yes, that is a direct quote, because he sent this to me via txt, and I have locked it so I won't ever lose it. I'm LDS, "Mormon," whatever you want to say. I can read between the lines and see the possible revelation lying there. I can't quite remember his wording on this, but he has told me something to the effect that he wishes to cure me of my hatred for myself and to get me to see the good in me, I guess - he's a guy - he sees something needing fixing - he must fix. He has read some of my poems, he has read a lot of my work for the class I had with him last year. He is a great reader and can see the bitterness behind my words. I have had txt discussions with him about religion, faith, trials... and for some blasted reason, I can listen to him. He isn't telling me anything any different than what my friends and family would tell me to get me to gain my faith back. He tells me that it is God blessing me. Whether or not that is true... somehow his words are able to strike a chord with me. I'm still bitter. I'm still angry. I laughed at him when he told me that he wanted to help release me from the lack of faith in myself.

I told The King today that I'm just bombed. I'm so loaded down with so many things that I need to do (and really should start working on them rather than writing here), and that I blame him for it. I truly feel like I'm going to break, and break soon. He tried to help me feel better by saying that I'm doing an amazing job. Because of the person that he is, I know he was being sincere. "Yes," was my reply, "but there is only so long that I can continue to be great in everything that I am doing before I break." (this statement I'm just now beginning to realize, The King might have been pleased with his work... normally I would have scoffed at his compliment, but here I accepted it and said that I was great in other aspects as well...)

"And think of how great it will be if you come out of this without breaking."

Yeah, that was his ever optimistic reply. I believe him. I can't not believe him. I accepted this job because I believed him. But at the same time, I can't not think of the negative in that. And think of how much more depressed I'll be if I do break. Cause I see it happening in the near future. Sure when things calm down a bit (after this week -meeting with the students about their first essay- is over) maybe I won't break then. But test making, quiz making, 30 page essay writing (for the Adv. Nonfiction class - I blame The King for that as well), the concerts, the reading Shakespeare plays, more essay writing.... I truly believe that one of these days this semester I am going to break.

I wonder what The King will have to say when that time comes.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

Ground Hog's day - did you have yours?

Here are the pics:

Bug showing his groundhog off (I think the shadow is my hand taking the pic...):

Silly face Bug:

Goof Ball intimidating his bro:

I don't particularly want to talk about how I am doing. I'm not well, just accept that. Don't be fooled by the smile above. I'm a pretty good actor, all things considered. Especially when there is a camera at my face. I'm totally swamped with work, school work, house work, work work... and any other sort of work that you could think up. I think I finally have found my limit. I may have over booked myself this semester. But it has already been a month, and I'm still alive. I guess that is a good sign. My faith? Who knows where that went. But that is all I will say. If you really want to know, call me. I won't promise that it will be a cheerful conversation, nor will I promise that I will believe anything you say to lift me out of the gutter. I'm in good company, and maybe eventually I'll get my faith back. The teacher I'm working for actually has the innate ability (or inspiration from God whatever you wish to say/think) to say things in such a way to make me think that maybe... it might be possible to believe again. We talk about lots more things than just the class stuff. Maybe one day I'll post such thoughts on here. But not now. I have dallied long enough and I am thinking that after all that, my brain has finally vegged enough to get to working again. I tried to apply myself to homework or whatever, but for whatever reason (probably just because I'm overworked and my body was rebelling) my mind just couldn't focus on anything longer than a minute. But I have vegged enough I think and now I can work on homework. A paper is due next Tuesday. 日本語 test Monday. A quiz to make for Tuesday or Thursday, lots and lots of reading... and yeah. Time to get on it.

Hope you enjoyed your groundhog today!

Friday, January 20, 2012

わかりません。(translation: I don't understand)

"Love they neighbor as thyself." ok. fine. but what if i dont love myself to begin with? what then?

Monday, January 16, 2012

Agency

The ability to choose.

It's a tough call isn't it? I can't imagine a life where I wouldn't be able to choose anything. Being told what to do every day every second of my life... I can't even picture it. Naturally it would be better if we all had the chance to choose, right?

But some people choose bad things. Some people decide that they want to take the agency of others. I have experienced that. I guess I may have some sort of idea what the world would be like if I couldn't choose.

So what is it? There is no grey... it is black and white. Should everyone be given the ability to choose (though some people may choose to use others and take away their agency) or not allow anyone to choose? I'm here on earth. Which leads to the fact that it is obvious what choice I made. (people not a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, you can find out what I'm talking about here: mormon.org) I choose for everyone to be able to choose. It is hard to say what happened before we all came here. Did we all have an idea of what our life would be like before we decided to vote for agency or not?

I met with my bishop again yesterday. Among discussing what realizations I had come to in the past few months or so, I also went to renew my temple recommend. When I first walked in, I had forgotten what I went in to talk to him about. But sometime in the middle of the interview, I remembered that I wanted to tell him about how I didn't feel worthy enough to be a child of God. I discussed this on here a few posts or so ago. As we talked, I realized that no only do I not feel that, but I also don't think it. I understand the concept. I believe/think whatever - that us humans are spirit children of Heavenly Father. Somehow along the way I took myself out of that equation. I see everyone else as children, but not me. Yes, I know that is quite hypocritical. Sitting there, talking (or more like listening... he talks a lot ^_^) to my bishop, I realized that I didn't know. Not only did I not feel it, but I didn't know in my mind that I am a child of God.

This morning, I think I realized why I was fighting knowing it so much. Because if it is true, that I'm a daughter of God, then why did I have to experience the things that I did? I couldn't understand how I could both be a child of God and still be used and abused and walked all over as I have. In my mind, it turned into a give/take thing. If my worth is that much, then why was I treated like that?

Some things my bishop said to me yesterday were very like things that I knew to be in my patriarchal blessing (as members of the LDS church, we have the choice to receive a blessing that tells us about ourselves and the responsibilities that we have on the earth). I'm not going to share them on here. This is a little too public a place for such things. However, it became apparent to me as I read my blessing again this morning that I wouldn't be able to fulfill my responsibilities without having to go through what I have.

For example: Jesus Christ had specific responsibilities that he needed to fulfill on the earth. Bringing about the salvation of all men by enduring the consequences of all our sins and sorrows. All of us. That is a lot of pain. Even the pain and consequences of my own sins I wouldn't be able to handle it. He endured that for everyone. Christ has been through our lives. My mind can't comprehend the process. But because Christ has felt what we felt, has experienced our pain and sorrow, He is someone who can fully understand and comprehend us. If we go to Him, He can help us overcome our problems, because he has done it as well.

It's kind of like my situation. I can't help the people I need to help unless I "go through the motions." For me to be able to help who I need to help, I need to experience the pain first. It makes sense, right? Someone who hasn't been abused can't really comprehend or fully help someone who has been abused. Depending on their personality, they can accept the person, but they won't really know how to help them.

It isn't particularly a pleasant thought, but at least knowing this, it may help me with that next step. With this explanation, I can understand how the two can coexist. A daughter of God, and extreme pain and sorrow. Who knows? Maybe I have already accepted the idea just by writing this post. But I can't explore that idea on here anymore. My kids are up and waiting for breakfast.

Have a nice Monday.

Friday, January 13, 2012

Friday the 13th

I am not one who believes in superstition. Just keep this in mind as I tell you a tale of my morning.

*for non parents... this is your tmi warning*

I woke up, and almost instantly, I just wanted to go back to sleep. Maybe it was some sort of premonition, or maybe it was because Bug woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me that the toilet downstairs didn't work. I ignored him, wanting to go back to sleep. He proceeded to tell me that he had *poop* on his leg and foot. I didn't know how that could have happened and told him to wipe it off with toilet paper. Soon he gave up on me and went back to bed.

Morning comes. Bug wakes up a bit later than usual. And what do I find when I get my first sight of him? His pants/underpants are off. He has dried *poop* all down his leg. I pause in my attempt to get myself to do homework and lay him on a changing pad like a baby to wipe it all off with cold wet wipes. It doesn't do any good. The *poop* had a chance to dry on there so much that he was red in places. Diaper rash at age 5? Okay... sure. Bug got sent to the tub for a spray down. I didn't want to resort to that, but it was either that or using up an entire box of wet wipes. Bug finally gets *poop* free and dressed. I'm debating whether I want to go shower or not before breakfast. I decide to do it after. We start getting ready for breakfast (I had already removed the *log* from the carpet downstairs), Goof Ball was still asleep. Keep in mind the smell (I DID warn you about too much information...). Downstairs literally reeked. When I came back up to inform Pro Boxer that there was *poop* all over the toilet and bathroom floor, I told him that when he goes down there, he should wear a gas mask.

The table set, I hear Goof Ball finally deciding that he wants to wake up. I look down the stairs to see him diligently walking up the stairs like a big boy. He looks up and sees me and says, "Here," pointing to his leg where I see a little dot of *brown stuff.* I say down to Goof Ball, "That looks like *poop!*" I turn to Pro Boxer, "Looks like it may be a very *poopy* day." "I hope not," Pro Boxer's response is.

Turns out Goof Ball was also very *poopy.* He had it on his legs as well as his socks that he wore to bed. Throughout the week (starting Sunday with Pro Boxer) each one of us (except me... *crosses fingers...*) has had a spill of diarrhea/throw up. Bug and Pro Boxer had both, but Goof Ball seems to only have been on the diarrhea end. I opened up his diaper, and laid out before me, was a lake of *poop* (again... I DID warn you about too much info. I was not about to tell this story with any less graphicness than is already present). We wiped up Goof Ball and into the tub he went for a spray down (he also had some dry *poop*). Where as Bug laughed, Goof Ball screamed.

In the blessing on the breakfast food, Pro Boxer said, "Please help us to have an enjoyable day." I snorted. Course, we are amiable people. We took all this in stride, laughing all the way. Looking back, it seems that was the most enjoyable part of my day. I came home quite depressed. The house still smelled of *poop* when I walked in the door. I lit some candles, and asked Pro Boxer if the bathroom had been cleaned up. Of course, with the prevailing smell of *poop,* I kind of assumed what the answer would be.

I didn't get to my shower. It was either exercise and shower or go to sewing circle. I went to sewing circle. Don't judge me. When you have kids... you will understand. Not every day can be a shower day.

Happy Friday the 13th to you all.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

I have given up.

I put this together after Christmas with the hopes that I would still be able to send them off the first week of the year. It isn't quite a Christmas card... but it kind of is. But now that my school has started (I really should get going on my reading and Japanese homework) I have completely given up printing these and sending them to friends and family. So here you are. Maybe next year I'll be more on top of it... but it isn't exactly a priority... and well... I talk about that on the actual card. Enjoy. Maybe.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

It's that time again

Time to put the kids to bed. But first I'll spend a little time on here updating you all, you all.

We had a fun time at Christmas, first time ever we spent Christmas morning at our own house. I think we'll be doing that more often from now on. My parent's had the tradition of my dad cameraing us as we all (all nine of us) walked in, usually youngest-oldest (but that became randomness the older the kids got). So we tried to do that this year with our little family. I tried to stay in back as the kids waltzed up the stairs... but that didn't work. Because Goof Ball (not quite understanding the idea that it was Christmas and that there were presents and surprising things awaiting him) decided to have a fit and that he didn't want to show his face, or come up the stairs on his own power at all. So I carried him, with Bug trying to wedge himself between me and Goof Ball... but even on the landing, Goof Ball curled up into a ball face down and "cried." I lifted him up and put him on the kitchen floor one last step up, and he came back down to the landing and curled up again. By this time I was about to give up on our fun little videoing experience (Pro Boxer only got a small section near the end anyway... the part where Goof Ball wiggled back down to the landing to avoid doing... well, anything.) Pro Boxer paused in the videoing to turn on *ahem* the big present for the year, which we may or may not be doing in subsequent years... not that it is all that expensive, but well... I won't get into it. Suffice it to say they haven't gotten a lot of play time on it, and that isn't because we spent the week of Christmas away from home.

Whatever the case, we are home now, and I'm constantly trying to convince myself to go exercise, or clean, or do... something. Something more worthwhile than writing (IS there anything more worthwhile than that?? ... ~_^ jk) or pretty much wasting time on the computer. I am trying to finish up Great Expectations before the semester starts... I'm about 3/4's done with it.

And life has returned to somewhat normalcy. We are working on teaching Goof Ball what a potty is. THAT will be fun, let me tell you... *rolls eyes.

See ya in a week or two... or three...? After all, I'll be quite busy this semester despite my minimal what... 15 credits? Hope all is well with all you all... you all.

P.S.

And just cause I conveniently had them on my computer already, here are the above mentioned videos. Someday... maybe... we'll own an actual camcorder, and then we won't have such issues when we try to do videos. But for now... enjoy the moment. Truthfully it actually is a pretty fun family video. ^_^ (sorry it is sideways...) And due in part partly because it is a camera taking a video, and partly because the card was filled (we obviously didn't think about that), this is all you get... you don't even get to see what is making all that racket. ;) I guess I'll have to take a picture of it someday and post it just to satisfy your curiosity.

video

video