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.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012


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.