End of a Relationship

I broke up with the guy I'd been dating since mid-June of this year. To be honest, it was a relationship that should not have lasted as long as we let it last. But that was our decision. We had pretty much nothing in common except a lot of fun during sex.

I still feel bad for ending things.

He is this sweet guy with a gentle attitude and an earnestness to please and help others. I just feel bad because I hurt him. He texted me the next day, to ask a quick question, and admitted that he had been crying all night long. He then asked if there was someone else.

That question hurt.

I never cheated on him the whole time we dated. Never wanted to. Even if I was angry, annoyed, and tired of him, I never once considered carrying on a relationship (even a one night stand) with someone else during our relationship. I never sought anyone out for anything more than friendship. While we dated, he was mine and I was his.

So it hurt. But not in an angry hurt. In a sad sort of hurt. The kind that recognizing that I have hurt him on some level. I realize now he has trust issues as I have issues with myself and wanting to depend on others.

I never really opened up to him. I saw him as a kid and not as my equal. I treated him as an inferior and not as someone I wanted to share my feelings and thoughts with. I pushed him away even while we dated. I couldn't understand how he saw the world and was baffled when he couldn't understand how I saw the world.

I know. I know. I'm immature.

But to be honest, the relationship was a distraction. I never gave 100% of me to it and for that it became something of an escape. I know that I tried to be more to him. I tried...but I couldn't. And then, this past Sunday, I realized I was not even close to treating him as an equal. That any normal person would realize how rude and cruel I was being to him. So I ended things as much for me as for him (or so I tell myself).

I know I've hurt him with this decision. I feel terrible. But I know it is the right decision. I need to fix the things that are wrong in my life.

I know that I'm nothing. Not even close to a catch to anyone. Not even me.

I want to become something for myself. Not just a passerby in this thing called life.

I want to grab hold of something within me and make it totally mine. I want to reshape my life.

I want to give myself to that reshaping 100%.

I gave so little to him. I realize that I needed to end things before they went any further and I hurt him even more.

So here I am. Alone. And I want so badly to change me. I feel bad. I hurt. I hate it. But I can only hope I did the right thing.

I did. Right?

Shallow Story

I'm back! Damn...I suck at meeting my goal on writing every day.

I read an article earlier today that told the story of a "lesbian, leftist" woman that converted to Christianity. The article had its interesting moments and was certainly catered to a securely Christian audience. There was nothing all that unusual about it. It was just very typical as far as conversion pieces go of leftist people to Christianity.

I suppose what I find disappointing about the characters (real or not) in these pieces is the complete lack of actually challenging Christianity. Take, for example, the woman in the piece that I read. She cites that she's a lesbian, leftist, etc. These things are viewed as being counter to Christianity. She even points out at one time that she attended one of the the Universal Unitarian churches. She throws out names like Hegel, Marx, and Darwin as those these are the names of men to be avoided. It's this that sends a warning flag in my mind and makes me shake my head.

When Darwin or Marx is brought up in any conversation or article regarding Christianity, I feel it ought to be thrown out right away. These are names that are meant to give a nod to the modern Christian views on science and the great enemy to American capitalism. They are straw-man names, it seems, in this community. Meant to inspire fear, loathing, and an unhealthy need to avoid the point of their ideas.

When I was a kid, and deeply religious, I was thankfully never exposed to the seething hatred for evolution. I was, however, exposed to the near fanatical hatred of all things belonging to "socialism," including the word itself.

The woman's story itself is a straw man story. She starts off on the opposite of modern, right-leaning Christians and then tells the story of her journey to their side of things. I find it a bit of an eye-roll that she is lesbian and liberal. It seems that this creature is the new acceptable sinner in today's Christian realm. She seems to imply that she was an atheist too throughout the article. Thankfully, she find Jesus.

The issue that I have with the whole article comes down to this: for a supposedly intelligent and soul-searching person, you didn't seem to wrestle with any of the deeper questions that religion struggles to answer. The woman claims to have read the Bible and seems satisfied with the quite horrific acts of a vengeful, menacing God. She never seeks to find answers to the questions on her homosexuality and never even covers what clearly ends up being a ruined relationship between her and her partner.

This shallow acceptance of the tenets of evangelical Christianity is ultimately what bothers me about the article. Again, I realize it's nothing more than a fluff peace meant to comfort the insulated in the tenets of their faith. Fine. Whatever. I find the character in the story unable and unfortunately incapable of expressing the kind of questions that person of the supposed intellect she possesses would ask. That's what I take issue with.

Anyway, that's about it for now. I shall write again!

What If?

Sometimes...I can't help but acknowledge that fear that whispers in my mind even when I'm not paying attention to it...

What if I fail?

What if I'm no good?

What if I'm not needed?

Thoughts Before Action...But No...

To tell the truth, a character I've been working on is pretty flat. I've known this for some time and just can't seem to shake that. I've tried different ways to make them complex in a fun and interesting way. The character, Jesse, is an outcast. A typical outcast that was bullied as well as ignored in high school. Hardly one to make friends, he remains shy and an introvert even as he starts college. He is the youngest of four with a twin sister that's a minute older than him.

So, ok. He's an outcast. Doesn't fit in anywhere. He's shy and just beginning to realize that he's gay. Yeah. It's that kind of story: your typical coming of age. Not even the fact that he was raised Mormon and comes from a Mormon family is meant to be anything more than a part of the conflict. It's not meant to be the defining part of the story. Just assisting in moving the plot forward.

I mean, sure. Cool. Gay and Mormon. Ooo. So horrible. Not really. His personality has never been defined by Mormonism. Yeah, he grew up in the religion. Did all that he was supposed to do. But he never believed. Both his brothers served missions and his sister intends on doing so. She's even going to the Mormon school BYU while he attends one of the state colleges in Washington state. But he's still an outsider when it comes to this religion. His parents want him to go on a mission but at the same time already look on him as a failure. This isn't because he doesn't really follow their faith. But it's because their personalities clash and they have never really taken the time to reach out to him and understand him. This, of course, goes both ways. The two parties stand on opposite sides of a cliche chasm.

His roommate is also Mormon and someone that has come back from serving a mission. Despite all my talk about "missions" this isn't a major factor in the story. Just facts, ha ha!

Beyond religion, he's shy (as already mentioned). He's still young, an eighteen-year-old, and just beginning college. He has no idea what he wants to do with his life and feels more lost than anything. He's afraid to reach out and admit that he's gay to anyone. So when it comes to this, he has hopeless crushes. I don't want this to come across as pathetic (but it is). Just another foil in his character.

Still, events will come along to challenge him to discover himself (cause that's what's supposed to happen, lol). But mixed with it all, and hopefully this makes the story an enjoyable read, is that it's not just a kid coming out and accepting himself, but a story of magic and mystery.

So in all of this, I want it to be a story of self-discovery, hope, and finding out about more than just being gay. I hope it would be an adventure that takes readers of all kinds into an odyssey through the eyes of a character that is sympathetic, funny, and quirky as the story unfolds.

Wow, well, ok. I feel a little better after writing that. Gives me a little more sense how I want the story to progress and how I want the character to act and be like! Phew!

Return of the Blogger!

It's been about ten days since I last posted. Shame, really. This is exactly my problem: laziness. I was distracted with playing computer games and feeling "tired" after work. Well, that happened. I can't change the past week and some-odd days, so gonna have to keep going forward. I am lazy. I know that. Laziness is my defense against fear of the unknown and what I think may be dangerous. Rather than face what causes the anxiety, I hide from it.

I'm not really gonna jump on me for wanting to hide. It happens. Getting angry over it just leaves me feeling guilty and paralyzed, the opposite of what I need. I need to keep working towards my goals.

So, what I my goals for this week?

Work on my story
Research for my other story
Work on my financial goals
Spend time with friends
Go for a walk every day

That means I've got a lot to work on today!

Hm, well, I certainly don't own this picture. But it does work. That reminds me, I need to make out with Boyfriend today. A good goal, if you ask me!

To Escape or Surrender...or Get a Milkshake

I'm not sure why I want to keep living.

To be honest, I don't think I need to know if there is a "why" behind why I keep on.

Today I realized that my next goal is to start earning extra money, finishing my schooling, and getting a second job to pay down some of my debt. I also realized that I am afraid to do so. I'm afraid to face the new stress that I'd be exposed to.

That's where this blog comes in. I created this to help me face the fears that I have. Now, I won't be completely candid even though I'm pretty much the only one that reads this, but still.

My job sucks as far as wage goes. I knew it going into it. Over the past year, I've received a wage increase of about 1%. I don't know if that's normal for other wage earners in my bracket and other such statistics. Regardless of those unknowns, I earned very little before and now I earn very little plus a tiny amount now.

I bring that up so that I can face the realities of my wages. I earn shit. I am drowning in debt. Wouldn't it be nice to pay some of that off in a year? Two years? Yeah. It would be.

So take a chance. I need to go out and accept that I've failed so far in my life so why not risk failing some more. It's not like I'll lose anything. I'll end up with things as they currently are so I really wouldn't be losing anything. Whereas the benefits are that I have the option to greatly enhance my life beyond what it already is.

So what scares me? The unknown? Fear in general? What?

Ah, Something Happy!

Things have been depressing on here lately. So...for today, I'm just gonna post a favorite video of mine from YouTube:

Death, Show No Pride

So far I've written about how shitty a summer I had. Yippee. What does any of that mean anyway? What will it mean to me three years from now? Five years from now? Forty years? Who knows.

But right then, it meant that I had hit rock bottom. I worked at a job that barely kept me alive for nearly ten months starting in July. And you know what? It kept me alive even if barely. The way that I look back at the last year is that I needed time to recover, to heal, and to absorb all the pain that I had received the previous summer. That was all I could do. I would pretty much wake up very early and get ready for work by sitting at my computer until the last minute and then scramble to get ready before dashing to the train station to go off to work. I'd work and smile and feel happy even if only for a little bit. But always I'd feel the darkness in my life when I would be alone. I would then make the return journey home where I'd just sit at my computer until it was time to go to sleep before waking and starting the whole ordeal the next day.

I was at a point where I felt like I was just waiting for something to rip my life apart and give me cause to commit suicide.

From December to March, I seriously considered killing myself. At one point I used a razor and cut my own shoulder because I just couldn't escape the stress I was feeling. I couldn't ignore the call to do damage to me. I wanted to see my own blood then. But for a couple of months those thoughts subsided.

Then, in May, I seriously considered suicide. I even looked online to find ways to eliminate as much of the financial burden my debt had become in my life so that if I died it wouldn't affect my parents.

I had become a failure.

I felt such darkness in my life and I just wanted to give in to it.

Or so I thought.

See when I did decide to give in, some small voice buried deep inside obstinately said "no" and refuse to allow me to move an inch more toward oblivion. Each time I felt as thought I'd reached the end some part of me would keep saying, "Fuck the hell no, goddamnit."

You really can't blame me for feeling bewildered at this voice in me. What was worth living for? I'd failed at everything that could possibly matter. No one even wanted me around. I would do justice to the world by killing myself. Yet to all of those thoughts that voice still refused to yield. It took time but I did accept it and decided to re-examine my life to see if I could climb out of the hole I'd dug for myself.

I don't think I'll ever know why I wanted to live so badly at that point but I can at least say I was smart enough not to fight that voice.

And hear I am. Trying again.

Nothing Lasts Forever

By this point, I was already feeling emotionally empty. Sure, I would focus on the now which gave me the opportunity to find happiness. But when I got home from work, I'd sit at my computer and just get lost into the ether of the Internet. I couldn't handle what I was feeling. All I knew was that I was lost and everything was spinning out of control.

I was at work on my birthday when this next part took place. I had called my parents earlier because they were driving to where I lived for a cousin's wedding. They were also coming to pick up the car I'd been using for the past year. The financial burden of having that car had become too much so I had decided to give it to my sister.

I called my parents again during lunch and was told that they were a little busy and could they call me later. So I said sure and waited for the rest of the work day for a phone call. When I hadn't heard from them in four hours, I decided to call and see how they were doing.

My mother answered the phone in a tone that made it clear something was wrong. I asked why hoping to find out the cause of her pain. Yet I was unprepared for her answer to my question.

My parents were getting divorced.

I was so completely stunned. I had no idea anything was wrong between them. They had kept much of the substance of their relationship a secret. And I accepted that. They, as adults, always had a right to their privacy. Even as an adult now, it was still none of my business how they chose to interact with each other and what they meant to each other beyond the titles of husband and wife. It was by mere biological coincidence that my relationship to them was tied.

When I first found out, my mind was swimming with questions about why and how. I called my father briefly to express support but I was still in shock and gave a premature gesture of such before I was truly ready. When I understood more fully the gravity of the situation, I couldn't talk to him; causing only more pain for him and even for my mother.

It took a few days to piece together the whole story of my dad had been cheating on my mom for nearly thirty years and that my mom had found out not once but twice now that he was doing so. This was evidently the straw that broke the camel's back.

For a child, even as an adult now, I was facing for the first time the reality of both my parents. I had long ago accepted them as human as me, as any little child does when they are growing up. But for so long they had acted as mere ideas and mere outlines of people. They'd gone to high school, went to college, my dad went on a mission, they get married at a young age and had kids right away. They then spent the rest of their years working to provide for the family (Dad) and raising the kids (Mom).

I admit it's my fault for not trying to understand them better. So this first major slap in the face brought about so much anger from me concerning my dad's own indiscretions. His own betrayal of his faith. Sure, I had long since stopped believing, but he seemed to have not.

I never felt like a lost a father when I found out his cheating past, a very recent past indeed. I felt like I had never really known my father and I was left to wonder just who was this man that had voluntarily shared his genetic code with me and participated in raising me for so long.

My siblings and I hated him for a long time. Our forgiveness was eventually given but with the understanding that trust had been violated and could not be given again. What was lost was forever lost. But even with all that, I didn't know what to say or do. My siblings saw the world in a stark religious duality of good vs. evil. While I? Well, I just had questions and saw only a man that I didn't really know and wanted to know. Why had he done this? Why had he married my mom? Was there actually anything wrong with him? What was his relationship with my mom like over the years? Did they communicate as well as they supposedly should have? Or had they been around each other for so long that they stopped seeing each other?

The threat of divorce turned into one born of anger to one born of a need to reexamine their relationship. My father went into counseling for the next year. He and my mother stayed married during that time. I never really knew what to say.

My mother called me yesterday to tell me that she and my father are getting a divorce. In a year's time, I realize I still don't know what to say. I only know that the people I know as my parents are changing. That the substance of their lives still remain a mystery to me; one that if they were willing to open up a little on, I would listen and ask questions concerning those things.

I love both of my parents despite the terrible road that we have crossed this past decade. They have provided for so much in my life, raised me, and cared for me.

So it is in that vein of love for them that I am left with questions. Who is my father? And who is my mother? Who are they as people?

I am ultimately left with the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle and realization that not all of those pieces are there. I wonder if my siblings know the story more? Are they equipped to handle what's happening?

The End of First Love

So up to this point I've covered the shittiness of losing my job and getting evicted. Nice. Bleh. Whatever. The next thing occurred a little more than a week before my birthday in July. It happened with no warning to anyone. I have to admit that maybe I can make sense of it on here.

I got finished with my first day of work at my new job and raced to the downtown library to see my boyfriend. It was wonderful to be out in the sun...though the heat was definitely not nice when I was wearing the khaki pants and shirt for my job. Anyway...

We were sitting in this little park in the downtown, talking and sharing each other's day. I can remember sitting next to him and enjoying the shade that we were sitting under. I watched as sunlight and leafy shade formed patterns on the concrete pathways that ran throughout this little park in front of the old City Hall. It was pleasant and peaceful here. It was healing for me.

I had discovered something about myself earlier that day and I wanted to share it with him. I trusted him and knew he was by my side. This was another time that I had faced the lack of motivation so apparent on my part. I realized that it was the cause of all my woes. That, essentially, my refusal to have a vision for myself had led to me being in a sucky situation. I had no one to blame but myself.

I told him this. I told him how I realized that this void was something I was truly seeing for the first time.

And then everything changed for us.

 He admitted that he had seen this in me too. He had actually seen it in me before I had even fully recognized it. That thing about me had bothered him so much. I remember how hollow I felt as he explained that it made him want to end our relationship. Looking back on that moment, I realize a little more what happened. On some level, we had ended our relationship already and that this moment provided us an outlet.

But I over reacted. I think that was necessary for me. This was the first time I'd ever dated a guy before. I liked him a lot. So it seems that I needed to have my heart broken. I asked him after he finished if what he was saying was that he was breaking up with me. I felt so empty as I asked. And he said that he guessed he was. To this day, I don't think he ever intended to walk into that conversation with the intent to break up with me. I could be wrong. I've never asked him about it. But once those first words were spoken, it really was the right thing.

I told him that I needed to leave and that I needed to hate him for a little while before I could talk to him again. He was far more understanding than me and gave me space. I walked to my car that hot day, crying. I felt so terrible and empty inside. I called my dad in tears and told him what happened. Ironically, this was the first time he even knew that I had had a boyfriend. But he did his best to comfort me.

For the next week I was beyond depressed. The friends I stayed with saw how withdrawn I had become and I told them why. It took a long time to recover. I received great advice and great support from friends. The only mistake that I made after breaking up with my now ex was that I wrote an angry email and acted like a child. I told him I never wanted to see him again. He bowed to my wishes and for nearly a year we didn't talk.

I regretted that decision shortly after I sent him that email. I tried to reply and apologize but I think my words had done damage enough. I doubt he ever read the apology email I sent after. It solidified my depression all the more for the weeks that followed.

I regretted that email for all the months after.

Thankfully, this one story has a happy ending much like the losing my job story did. A few months ago, the ex and I had the chance to apologize and we did. We now hang out. I am now currently dating someone else and he is currently dating around and being his amazing self. We are friends and I value his friendship beyond words. He is a good man. I am grateful that we had the chance to date and I am glad we are friends. I don't regret breaking up with him. I think it was the best decision that we both made. And now it feels like things are right again with us as friends and with all our friends able to intermingle without awkwardness.

But for last summer, I couldn't see how breaking up was a good thing. I was depressed and avoided my friends for so long. I felt so lost at that point.

And that meant that the next blow would hurt all the more.

So Long and F*ck You

This next part takes place before the end of the last post...

Once upon a time I used to work for a restaurant. It wasn't really a restaurant so much as a snack stop on the way to better times and activities. You know...that...sort of thing. Cause that's not vague, right?

I was the store manager there too...which meant shitty pay for a lot of headache. I thought I did a decent enough effort at my job but my bosses did not think that. In the beginning, we worked together to get the place I worked at in great condition. But over time, we stopped seeing eye to eye. I could go on and on about perceived insults by them and how they might have seen me...but there's no real point.

Essentially, early that June, they fired me.

My boss seemed to treat me like an idiot at times. But I prefer to believe they acted in a way that they thought best suited there interests. So they sent a text asking for me to give them the key so they could make copies of it.

Seems like a plausible thing to request. But I knew my boss well enough and had a spot on accurate read of the situation. So I replied asking if I should leave the rest of the store's gear behind as well. It was at that point that my boss decided to call me.

To this day I have no idea what she said. When I go into shock, I generally tune everything out around me. I get a sort of tunnel vision where I focus on the immediate situation. My brain sort of functions in a What do I need to do next? It makes for me being deliberately and quickly effective. So my boss babbled on and on in my ear about what I can only assume was lame-ass excuses for why they were firing me and justifications for those reasons. All I heard in my head was Sign out. Head out the door. Don't think about the next step.

I was hurt at this point. I had poured my heart into that job. I made sure I was available at all hours when the store was open so that I could answer any question one of my co-workers had. Often they would interrupt boyfriend time, much to the vexation of he and me! Ha ha!!! I made sure that all reports were filed on time, phones were answered, inventory was checked regularly, things were ordered, and so on. I made sure to help customers and make sure things were safe and fun for everyone involved.

That's how I felt about it. But somehow, I failed in my job according to the boss(es).

This next part was one of the few good things that happened that summer in a long-term way. The boyfriend and I drove that night over to this other place so that I could interview for a maintenance position with decent hours and a decent wage. I was getting burned out at this other job and knew that I was going to be fired soon. It was pure coincidence that the day I got fired was the same day I was going in for an interview. It was also pure coincidence that two hours after I was fired that I was hired at a new place.

It should also be noted that the day before I was evicted from where I was living, at the end of that same month, I got the confirmation to start work at the new place.

That's basically how that happened. So by the end of June I had been fired from my job (and thankfully had a new job) and was evicted from the place I was living at. Summer was already going great! Eh...

Sheet of Paper

What should have followed was a quiet, respectful disagreement that ended in me moving out as part of the deal and us never speaking to each other again. Well, maybe a nod of acknowledgment of the other's existence should we cross paths. And since the gay community here is pretty small, it was bound to happen. Yes. That's how it should have gone...at least to me. Maybe he had a difference of opinion.

Anyway, the weeks passed. I worked and spent time with the boyfriend and friends. I was hardly ever at the house and when I was, I would just stay up in my room to avoid having to awkwardly not talk to the guy. I may no longer respect him but I had no intent of causing a scene or of even having a reason to talk to him. I would simply come and go and make sure that I didn't make too much noise or cause a problem.

Now, I realize this is my side of the argument. I'm sure there was his. I realize I'm deliberately not seeing his point of view to make myself the victim and he the aggressor. And I'm totally fine with that.

He can go and fuck himself for all I care.

It was at the end of June that everything went to hell. At the time I was looking around on the Internet for job postings in my area. I was feeling pumped and excited about the future. I felt I was going to get my life on track again and just go from there. I had just been typing away when I happened to glance over at the door. Perhaps I heard the noise of evil being done or perhaps it was just me turning my head as I do (as anyone does). But there was a single sheet of paper on the ground that was definitely out of place.

I reached over to grab it and read it over. Even now as I recall what was written, my thoughts go numb. I still have that single sheet of paper with me. It was so hurtful and so painful that I decided to keep it with me forever as a reminder of this moment in my life. I don't ever want to forget this. Not for revenge but to help me leave that part of my life behind forever.

I was being evicted.

That word haunted me for a long time after that day. It read that the people that lived at the house (including the owner) felt physically and emotionally intimidated by me. That I was an unsanitary (because I wasn't anal about cleaning the bathroom every day like the third roommate). Therefore, I was deemed too unsavory and therefore this annulled the contract and I had 36 hours to vacate the premise or the police would be called.

I was horrified at this and hurt. This had never happened to me before. So I walked around outside and called up the boyfriend to tell him what had happened. I was upset and devastated. Hell, I was in shock at this. The boyfriend came over a couple of hours later. He told me that he was in the mindset that I would need saving from this awful situation. He knew he'd find me in my room crying and unable to do anything.

But that was not the case.

I was nearly done packing by the time he was done. Had he of not shown up when he did, I would have just moved everything down stairs and then to my car to drive over to a friend's place to temporarily store while I searched for a new place to live.

The whole time we moved my stuff out, the other two roommates avoided me and tried to act like nothing was going on. If by acting like nothing was going on involved the third roommate hiding his head underneath a blanket...then yes. Nothing was going on. My boyfriend was angry when the owner tried to talk to him as though nothing was going on. Seriously. Why would anyone even say anything to what had clearly become two groups on opposite sides now? There was nothing courteous left to say at that point. Only very colorful descriptions of where he and his pseudo-lover - I'm sorry, the other roommate could go. Thankfully, the boyfriend ignored him.

That was the end of it. I saw the guy once at a party that the friend I was staying with threw. After that, I never saw the owner as well as the other roommate again.

But there was a moment about six months ago when I had a chance to get revenge on the owner. The owner had requested to follow me on Twitter (I only have an account to follow my lesbian "wife"). I could have used that opportunity to say so much to him. I know I could have. But that was six months ago. I had finally gotten to the point where the owner no longer meant anything in my life.

The only thing that guy means in my life is a single sheet of paper. What little friendship we had had prior to that was forever wiped away with that white paper with the crisp, typed letters on it. Once I wished success and happiness upon him. Now I could care less if he is alive or dead.

That's it. He is a horrible thing. That's it. That's all that can and should be written about this individual.

I'm sitting in my apartment right now. It's a beautiful and pleasant evening right now. I have the fan blowing on me to keep at bay the heat from enveloping me that likes to cling to my room, ha ha! I have only the light on from the lamp by my bed. The day has been filled with work and than relaxing. Relaxing this past year has meant that I either sit at my computer and play games on it or lay on my bed and play games with a DS Gameboy. Maybe if I'm feeling adventurous, I'll go to the main room and play on the Game Cube or N64 that I've got. I also devote time to making dinner. 

How tragically boring, right? 

I used to read and write a lot. I'd even watch movies and hang out with friends until late into the evening. It's not that I don't hang out with friends anymore or avoid movies. I hang out with friends and watch movies. I've just become more of a recluse this past year.

I think a lot of that has to do with events that happened last summer. I think I finally feel ready to write about them. 

See, I kind of had a shit of a season then. It started with the texts and phone calls in April. I was told by the father of the owner of the house that I lived with at the time that I would not be allowed to renew my contract. This came as a shock and a surprise to me. When I had moved in back in February, the owner had sat down with me and discussed my renting plans. I had signed a six month agreement as a test to see if I liked the place. If I did, I would want to sign a year contract after my six months were up. The roommate agreed with me that he would like for me to buy the year long contact when my contract was up.

So this phone call from the person's father came as a shock to me. When I texted my roommate to find out what was going on, he confessed to already knowing about what his dad had done. I felt betrayed by my roommate for refusing to talk to me himself, choosing to go through his dad instead.

This whole event took place while I was at work. I was so upset at the time and hurt by this. For the past several months I had noticed that I was being ignored by both roommates. They would do things together and deliberately not invite me and ignore me. For the most part, I was fine with that, honestly. I had other friends to spend time with and a boyfriend to be with. So I would often be away from the house.

Anyway, the texting conversation that went on between the owner of the place - my roommate - and me was a huge fiasco. He wanted to talk about my concerns over text while I refused and said I'd like to discuss them in person. The roommate refused to meet me in person because he was "physically intimidated" by me. Those words hurt. Ask any of my friends and family and they will raise an eyebrow at this description of me. I'm more likely to be described as a big ol' teddy bear. People love to get hugs from me because they're so wonderful. No one is physically intimidated by me. Not even children.

Eventually, he agreed to meet face to face and talk that night but by this point I was just upset and ill with him. So instead of meeting with him, I went and spent the night at my boyfriend at the time's place. I just didn't have the energy to deal with my roommate. I hated what he had done. I hated his choice to be cowardly. He texted me later wondering if I still planned on meeting with him. I told him no and proposed that we finish out the contract with limited communication between us. I just didn't have anything more to say to him. He agreed and that was that. 

Or so I thought...

Rather than write pages and pages on this shitty summer, I'll break them up into smaller pieces. And I will finish with a picture of kissing in a different way, ha ha!!!

Remembering When...

When I thought about what I would share today, I admit that I came up with a blank slate (sad right? Two days in and I have nothing!). But I wanted to share one of my favorite YouTube videos on here.

When this video first came out, I was so excited. I love Lady Gaga's music and I love history. WHAT BETTER COMBINATION? The video taught me a few things about the Women's Suffrage movement and inspired me to learn more about Alice Paul. So...if you haven't seen this video yet, do so. And since I am mostly writing this to me for at some future point when I want to see how far I've come:

Remember watching this video and how much you loved it? Remember how much of a goober you were about it? Yeah. That's right. You're welcome.

Goober.

A Promise to Me

I used to love to write. I could write for hours and virtually anywhere and everywhere. I often would write in the middle of classes, clubs, and church. It was the sort of escapist talent I've perfected now as an adult. But of course, dedication isn't something I'm really good at. So I haven't written in quite some time. I have bursts of writing for a week or two here and there but inevitably it falls away.

Except writing is how I analyze and process events and epiphanies. When I don't write, I descend into this foggy mire of thinking. Which is where I've been for the past two years. I have let other people and other situations affect me. I have gone to the brink of despair and just wanted to wait for something to push me over the edge into death. Dramatic, right? Yeah. I have a flair for that.

But even at that edge...I could never do that. Something inside refused it. It would argue and fight back against the gloom, doom, and surrender I felt. I can no longer embrace the attitude of "bleh" that I have so far permitted in my life. That fighting aspect to me is one I want to embrace now.

So, my first goal that I want to work on is a daily submission of a blog entry on here. Whether it's photos, analyzing of a book I've read, updates on goals, new goals, or just reflections I want and will post something daily. But I won't post more than one thing.

This should be interesting!

Foggy Clarity

I have spent the past two years in a sluggish sort of state. This stagnant, waking dream has left me forever on the retreat in life. From leaving school without finishing my degree to taking crappy jobs here and there in a forever servitude to poverty and humiliation. The knee has been bent to an oblivion of my choice. It never had to be this way. I could have at least had a worthless degree and then work at a humiliating and dehumanizing job.

How is it that I have permitted this state of being incomplete? Of forever choosing this state of instant gratification over preparing and creating a better tomorrow in the now? It's as though I have sought to be some fantastic personification of procrastination. What have I become? Slothful. Empty. Dismiss-able. Unnecessary. I am the one to blame for this. I have elected to follow this path.

Am I for the better? Yes and no. Naturally. Of course. I left school after having a melt down and a crisis of self. I ran away without any reason except to shelter and protect me from the demons that haunted me. Fair enough. It feels, though, like I have found some ground. Some place to make a stand and to work towards improving my life.

I may be lost currently. But I am still trying to figure out the way forward. Not back. There is no joy in returning to what "once was."

Therefore.

Let this be the start of clarity even if it is in brief bursts amid the thick fog of confusion and loss. Initially. But the fog will eventually need to go. Bring on the harsh sunlight.