it's not going to make her happy

tonight, i was talking with my mom after she got home from work. we got into the "do you remember what the house looked like when we were looking at it and other people lived here?" conversation. my mom is really stressed out by the way our house is. it's dirty. no one really cares except me and her. that makes three other people, who don't care about it at all... when other people lived here, it looked really good. there was pictures on the walls, there were statues. there were vases. everything was in it's place, and adorable. but then we moved in. our houses have never really been... clean. we throw everything everywhere... we save things from a billion years ago. we don't really.... get rid of things. spring cleaning never existed in my house. so i was talking with my mom, and she started telling me that she has all of these things that she wants to hang up, but there isn't a place for them. and if there was, she wouldn't know where to put them. she started telling me about all of them, and i was like. mom. we have to do something. so we started talking about what we could do... the upstairs is prepped and ready for wall hangings. everything's painted. we just need to clean, and rearrange. i told her that if she brought me stuff, i would hang it up. the one thing that she's really wanted to get done, is the downstairs hallway. we've been taking down that wallpaper since we moved in. just about 7 years ago. it's time to finish it. so i told her that if she took the rest of the wallpaper off, i would paint it. and i'm getting really excited about it. we already know what we're hanging on the walls down there when it's finished. i was thinking about paint colors... the tile that we put on the floor down there has these weird blues and purpley grays. so i'm going to get a bright blue, and a lavender. the lavender will be most of the walls and the light blue will go on the side with the closet, and my parents bedroom. it's going to look really good. and it will give me something to do. i think. i might fund the paint, and say it's christmas for dad. since i'm getting my mom something else. maybe it will just be for the both of them. it's not going to cost me very much... and i love doing these projects. and now, i have something to look forward to. something to plan. if i could do this for the rest of my life, i would. but the thing is. i know this isn't going to make her happy. i was so excited to paint my room. to put everything the way that i wanted. to let go of my old me, and embrace the new one. and after it was done.... i was like... okay, now what. it didn't make me happy. i don't even remember the excitement i had before it. but what else can i do? maybe if my mom and i work on this together, we can get something done. we'll work on the next project. maybe we'll even clean out the porch. maybe we'll be able to get rid of all the junk in our house. maybe we can save money to get a new couch. maybe maybe maybe. it's not about short term happiness.. my mom has been waiting her whole married life for her dream house. maybe all that we really need to do is clean up this one. and i'm pretty sure that we can have it up and looking sharp within the next six months. and i'm willing.

the crusades

i've been working on this paper for the longest time.
stupid. stupid. stupid.

i only have to describe the last couple crusades
discuss spain and the byzantine empire
compare them
and then conclude.

i already have my introduction
a discussion of the first two crusades
an understanding of the muslim
and christian attachments to jerusalem.

technically, i'm halfway there.
almost.
i'm at the end of page two
kind of.

i'm just so sick of this.
i want it to be finished.
after this paper.
i'm free.
(until sunday)

i just want it all over with.

the paper writing genies need to come
and finish this all up for me.

proper citations and everything.
GAH!

there are days.

sometimes, when i'm at work... i get this feeling... kind of like an out of body experience... it's strange knowing, that as crazy as things get, and as many mistakes that i make, and however many people are in the restaurant. and how many times people tell me to do things.. and how stressed out i get, that in a few hours. everything will be okay. and it will be like none of it even mattered. sometimes, i walk around, and i don't feel like me. i feel like an 18 year old waitress, trying to get through college. i feel like a completely different person. i can see myself. i can actually watch myself walking around, picking up plates, smiling at customers, and trying to be polite... it's one of the weirdest things.

this weekend, i went to the manentes.... and briana and i went out to the swamp, to take pictures... and for the first time in who knows how long... i felt pretty.

you know i love you, right?

do i? do i really?
i'm tired of being baited... and of baiting back.
when did you ever hold me? pick me up, and tell me that i was beautiful,
the apple of your eye?
when did you ever tell me that i wasn't an accident?
when did you ever surprise me? play with me? hug me?
you never say that you love me, unless i say it first
you never hug me, unless i hug you first
is this how it is supposed to be?
am i supposed to be straining all of my efforts trying to
impress you?
trying to make you have a reason to say that you care?
is this really working?
does it make you feel better to know that i need your approval
that i would die without it?
that i would try to die without it?
which one of us is the parent?
which one of us, needs to take the initiative?
which one of us, needs to grow up.

present face

my dad was really excited when chad was born. there are all of these pictures of the two of them playing together, and just hanging out. they had a good 3 years of play time. when everything was going good. when i was born, my dad was just starting his teaching career. which is when all of the bad things started happening. i don't really remember my childhood very much. there are bits and pieces... i remember having dreams that i was a princess, and that i could fly. that i was an explorer, and would go traipsing through the woods. i don't remember being scared of anything. i liked to climb on things, and play with my teddy bears. and the neighbor. but when i went to school, i started to freak out, because my dad would drop me off in the preschool room. and then kindergarten. i was so scared that he wasn't going to come back. there was nap time, and i almost never had my blanket and pillow, because i was scared i would forget them, and they wouldn't be at home with me. so i had to sleep on the blue cot. i don't remember liking nap time very much. there was one time, i was walking around the school, and i couldn't find my dad, i started bawling. and running around... and i was so scared. because he wasn't there. then we moved. i don't really remember very much about nebraska. there was childrens church, and it was cold... there was lots of corn. and there was a boy, evan, who sat across from me, who made fun of me. then we moved again. this time to tennessee.... up until this point, i don't remember spending time with either of my parents. my mom was always, football. and my dad just... didn't. he got mad at me a lot. or at least, i felt like he got mad at me. he would take me shopping. chad and i got a dollar for each year. we would go to walmart. i remember the most about tennessee... dad would take us to thrift stores. most of the time, i was really scared of him... i had my first boyfriend, and my first kiss when i was in third grade. my mom found out i had a boyfriend and was like, oh how cute. and told all of the relatives. then when they found out that i kissed him. they flipped out. my dad yelled at me for the longest time. he told me that i was going to be a slut and having sex and a loose dirty woman by the time i was 13. so i stopped talking to him. and then caleigh was born. i remember feeling like my parents loved chad more than me, because he didn't have to change the poop diapers. and then dad lost his teaching job. so he started working at papa johns. he would go out, and on thursdays he would bring chad and i a pizza while we were babysitting caleigh. but then papa johns wasn't enough, and the science teacher at gsa died. so he went to fill in up there. he would drive up, and live with my grandparents. while we stayed at home. he would come back like once every three weeks or so. and we thought that things might be okay, and that gsa would hire him. but they didn't. we ended up moving in with my grandparents while dad was looking for a new house. we've been here ever since. i remember eavesdropping on all of my parents conversations... they were always stressed out. they were always freaking out.... there was this atmosphere that the world is against us. that the adventists were against us. i remember being really mean to my brother. i didn't understand why he was the cool one. why he never had any problems. and i was getting yelled at.

the only thing that i can come to, is that i deserve this. it's okay for you to laugh at me. it is even right for you to do so. because i deserve it. and it's okay if you find me dull and ignorant. because i am. and i deserve your opinion. i deserve your scorn. and your disdain. and i deserve the yelling and the fighting. for you to turn the light out on me. to leave me cold. i deserve to be dirty and filled with disease. i deserve to be hated.

and if you give a little love, then you get a little love of your own

Well if you are (what you love)
And you do (what you love)
I will always be the sun and moon to you
And if you share (with your heart)
Yeah, you give (with your heart)
What you share with the world is what it keeps of you

from noah and the whale

i just want to be as small as i can. because if i'm small then they can't get me. they can't hurt me with their claws, and their teeth. they won't chase after me or corner me into submission. if i'm small, than i can escape. but i'm not small. and i will never be. and they're coming to get me.

i just went to visit bma
and it already feels like an eternity since i went.
i'm going this weekend to visit the manente's
and i hope the same thing doesn't happen....
things have just been going wrong lately
on thursday i forgot to do my homework twice
saturday, i was in the car driving until 2 AM
and on sunday at work, i went in... after just walking through the door, i broke 7 plates, ripped a table-cloth, cut my hand....
typical.
today i broke a cup. and spilled water.
tomorrow i give my speech.
i'm just tired...
i'm excited to go traveling. but i would probably be just as excited to sleep.... but luckily, today i discovered that i do not need to go to class on thursday. and i am not going on friday, due to traveling silliness. so i have like a 5 day weekend... or at least i would. if i did not need to go to work on thursday and friday.

today is the third anniversary of the friendship between pooper and myself. i guess the whole thing is just silly. (it seems that there isn't really anything that i have left that isn't silly) i used to get so excited, because becoming friends with justin was like reaching the unatainable. he's just too cool.

i can't even tell you how i feel right now. i just can't.
it's like i don't feel anything.
like i'm not allowed to feel anything.
i'm just engorged with vacancy.
i have no purpose. i have no joy.
and all of my efforts turn to dust.

"who am i this time"

FACT: i am good with my hands. i can create, and mold, and build. I learn by doing. not by sitting.
I want to do something meaningful. I want to be able to have people see and touch, and feel my soul. to hold it in the palm of their hands, to know that this is my contribution to the world. to know that it's benefiting the human existance. and in turn, i need my existance uplifted. i need meaning. i need to search for it. this is who i am right now. and i need to embrace it. i am not an adventist. and i will not become one, just because you think i should.