trained

i was taught to think of sex, as something dirty. as a sin. as something that, if i ever did, or if i ever wanted to do, god would strike me down. dead. one of the things that we don't realize as we get older, is how literally we used to take things when we were younger. for a time, we don't know how to reason, or now to question. we know that what mommy says is right, is right. and what she says is wrong, is wrong. and that is our whole world.

my parents used to refer to sex as "special loving" they used this phrase because one day our guinea pigs started to get a little frisky, and my brother and i of course had to ask. to their credit, we were young, and they probably thought it was a little too early to explain things to us. (although that kind of thinking never stopped them from explaining anything else to me. but, whatever.) i have come to hate this terminology. and i really wish that they hadn't used it to symbolize sex. because love is supposed to be a pretty great thing in and of itself. your parents are supposed to love you, and that is always supposed to fix everything. when a child has no knowledge of sex, and you throw this foreign term at them, they don't think about sex, they think you're telling them that you love mommy or daddy more than you love them.

i was used to feeling like my mother loved other things more than me. you spend your time focusing on what you love. i don't remember my mother ever playing with me. she would send me to my room, or ignore me while i played in the living room. mommy why are you watching those soaps. mommy why are you watching football. mommy why are you going to work. and yet i idolized her. i would go to her closet and wear her shoes, and try to walk down the stairs to show her. i always fell.

i have a fairly strong moral compass. now. i didn't always. when i was younger, i used to get in trouble a lot. because i didn't understand why things were "wrong" or why i wasn't "supposed" to do this, or that. things didn't stick for me. when we moved to tennessee my dad started getting more and more stressed out. i think i've told this story before, but no matter. my parents didn't think it was necessary to tell me a specific age that i would be allowed to have a boyfriend, or that i could date, or start to like boys. they never said anything like that. and so, at the ripe age of 9, when i decided that i was ready to have my first kiss, i didn't think anything of it. but when they found out, all of the sudden, i was supposed to have magically known that was unacceptable. my dad was so angry. he sat me down in my room. (i started escaping to my room when i got to stressed out, so it doesn't surprise me that he would violate my sanctuary, and just be stationary in a place that was safe for me. so i couldn't escape, and i had to talk to him. and even when he left, i would feel like my room was against me. maybe he didn't do it on purpose, but it felt like it) he yelled at me about his mother, and about all of these other women who had gotten pregnant, and who were all over the place with their man-lovers. my dad doesn't really yell, but he gets really loud. and he was just getting louder and louder, making sure that i knew it was wrong. it was wrong wrong wrong.

if you keep going like this, by the time you're 13, you're going to be a slut. you're going to be all over the place with so many different boys, and no one is going to want you. and there's a chance you could get pregnant. and if you get pregnant, there is no way you are allowed to come and live, in my house. if you think you're old enough to have sex, i think you're old enough to think about finding a new place to live.

no one is going to want you. i am not going to want you. god won't want you. i was 9. all they had to do, was tell me they didn't want me to kiss anyone. set an age limit. you're not allowed to date until you're 17. or something like that. but it was like, i found this box by accident one day, and when i decided to open it, it exploded.

i thought this was normal. and everyone knew that you weren't supposed to have sex. when i would find out that people i knew had started, it would completely change my opinion of them. i was disgusted with young married couples who were pregnant. because in order to get pregnant. you need to have sex. and sex isn't okay even if you're married.

this was how i thought. all the time. even up until my senior year. i hated talking about sex with pastor dave in leadership bible, because he's a pastor. pastors aren't allowed to talk about sex. and i kept getting so angry with myself, because i couldn't understand why i hated it this much. why i was so uncomfortable with this concept. there's nothing wrong with it. and when i started becoming aware of why i was like this, why i was this person, i was so disgusted with myself. so angry, and ashamed.

it's been a year, and i still haven't completely gotten over it. it's kind of an interesting thing to have to re-learn. sex is not synonymous with sin.

melt my heart to stone

"and i hear your words that i made up, you say my name like there could be an us. i best tidy up my head i'm the only one, in love. i'm the only one in love." (melt my heart to stone by adele, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1eT4jCoWI4A this part starts at 0:56.)

i can't remember the actual month that we went, but around the end of my senior year we took a trip to the art museums in DC. there were so many things that struck me at the time, like how much the louise bourgeois exhibit impacted me. that was where i got my first taste of dubuffet and fell head over heels. even before i saw the sculptures. there was also this one piece that i found really quite fascinating. but i forgot to get the name of the artist. the other day, i found a picture of a piece that i was 100% sure was his. his name is Ron Mueck. and he makes these sculptures of people. they're huge, but perfectly proportioned, and they're rather magnificent. not just because they look real, but because they are real. he pays so much attention to detail. not only in features and textures... but the actual surface looks like skin. he must have put so many layers on them. there are all of these veins and pores, the skin isn't just a solid color. there are gradations in value. and it's kind of unbelievable that he would be able to master it. it kind of just makes me wonder what happened to him, to make him work on things so meticulously, so passionately.

i guess that's really all i have for tonight.

cleaning bug

i keep trying to clean my room. but everything is already clean. there isn't anything left to rearrange, or put back in it's place... or hang up, or put in the hamper, or pack. or dust. i've done everything already. i kind of want to mess something up so i can fix it. literally, not figuratively. so i guess really, all i need to do is brush my teeth and go to bed... but

gah. i want to clean.

smidgen.

sometimes i forget how to do things. like how to hold a piece of paper with my left hand. or how to put my foot on the brake peddle. or how to drink something. or how to blink.

and don't laugh okay? because it's true. it happens to me all the time. like an epidemic. and when it does i have to concentrate really hard on how to remember. but for a few seconds i'm going really slow. sometimes it helps to try with the opposite side. like picking up something with my right hand and then mimicking with my left.

i dropped a glass today. and i dropped one last night. last night i was really upset with a few of my co-workers, because i didn't feel like they were doing their job. raman and i were running around doing everything and the other one's just kind of stood around and twiddled their thumbs. so i was in the back trying to dry the ice cream bowls. and i was fuming. i was really upset, because it was busy. and time was taking forever to pass, and i kept feeling like they were belittling me. and i just, i guess i didn't understand. and i was getting stuck in this awful train of thought and it just slipped out of my hand. and i freaked out. i jumped, and i covered my face, and i just stood there. i was so ashamed. and then i remembered how to move, and i went to go get the broom but my boss was like, no let someone else do it, because it will go through your shoes. i kept trying to do something because there was so much, and no one was doing anything, and i was freaking out, there were so many times when i was seconds away from breaking down.

but i don't know why i broke one today... it just fell out of my hands, and i kept trying to catch it. but it was going in slow motion, and i was moving too fast. and then it just hit. and it broke. but i cleaned it up, and i moved on.

recently

i've been around all of these strangers. all of these unfamiliar faces. and i can't help but think of them in some of their most intimate moments. i'm not really sure why... just the dumbest stuff. like meeting the love of their life, or learning that their grandfather has cancer, or finding out that their child has a disease. or going to the bathroom, or making dinner for their significant other on valentines day. even having sex.... and i try to shake these thoughts out of my head, but they just pop in, uninvited... and i have to get myself to think of other things. and every time, i feel like i'm stealing a piece of their life that i was never meant to see.

there are many things about the jewish faith that i find interesting

especially the idea that when people die, they are okay with saying

"i don't know what's happening to them, but i'll find out one day"

there isn't this urgency to figure out if their loved one is in heaven

or hell, or if they're just sleeping, or what have you.

which is something that i find extremely contrasting with the

adventist point of view - which is the one that i have had the most

experience around.

there seems to be this trend going on, in the sda circles, or this

need, to know everything. we know how to explain this verse to you

or we know what this means, or we can tell you if this person is the

spawn of satan, or we can tell you if your great grandfather's cousin who

immigrated from austria, is going to be in heaven based on a half true

account of his life, and the paper he signed when he got off the boat

we can tell you this. because we know.

i grew up in a house with people who were smarter than me. my

dad still believes he has the key to the universe. my brother refuses

to accept any opinion but his own, my sister only sees in black and

white, and my mother is too tired to say much of anything. there have

been so many pointless arguments between us, just because

we haven't figured out how to say, "you're right" or, "i can see where

you're coming from" i used to get so frustrated with them, until

i realized that i started doing the same thing. who am i to judge?

i stopped asking my dad questions when i realized that he would

just make me feel dumb. people stopped asking me questions when

they realized that i would try to make them feel dumb. i'm trying to

learn. honestly... but can i blame them for this part of myself?

there was this attitude that WE are perfect, and everyone else

just doesn't realize it yet.

there was the same attitude towards the church. my dad has not

had too much luck with teaching. because he likes to ruffle feathers

he likes to make sure the people know how smart he is. so when

he starts belittling the people in higher positions, they get angry.

and we end up moving. we moved when i was 7, because he would

have gotten fired if we stayed. we moved when i was 8 because he

couldn't even last a year in a different school. we moved when i was

11 because he decided that he wanted to pick on his boss's son.

he got fired when i was 13 because he had to make the pastor angry in

march (the pastor was planning on leaving in august). he didn't get tenure

when i was 16. and then he stopped teaching. i never once heard him say

"this is my fault" no. it was always the churches fault. how is that

supposed to affect the children? i went to sabbath school with the

idea that my friends were out to get me. i think, that if there was something

like this, with a pattern... at some point you're going to need to say,

i'm wrong. this isn't my calling.

my family will pick on my sister, because she's young, she's arrogant,

and because she doesn't know how to ask them to stop without being

in their faces (which of course eggs them on, especially my brother)

at first it's all fun and games, but then she starts taking it seriously

and when it's all said and done, she ends up crying her eyes out,

and locking herself in her room. i remember doing the same thing.

she's going to look back on this when she gets older, and say that

the family tortured her. and they're going to look right back at her

and say it's her fault.

i reject people who say they have answers. i reject religions that

say they can solve my questions, my problems. that they can

turn my life around. i reject people who seem to think that i need

their input in places i didn't ask them to look. i reject arrogance.

sometimes, it's not about the answer. i want the freedom to

have my question. i want to know that there are some things that

just can't be answered. i want to believe in something that

i don't quite understand. i refuse to accept that life is some giant math

problem, and i just need the right formula.

:{D

i've been trying to get nathanael to grow a mustache ever since i can remember. and so this is a letter i wrote to him. that he can fold over, and put right under his nose :{D hahahaha. i'm so excited!

and the madness begins

this weekend is valentines day weekend. and for restaurants, this this the busiest weekend of the year. i knew that i was destined to work on sunday. and my boss asked me to work tomorrow night too. and since we had a snow day on wednesday, and since i'm not coming in next sun. mon. tues. i figured i could really use the extra cash. sigh... so tomorrow, instead of staying in my pajama's all day, i get to run around making sure that every couple has the best darn night of their lives. but it's all good. i'm actually kind of excited about it. today there was this cute couple. i'd say they were pushing 80. they were so pleasant . and i don't even care that they only left a one dollar tip. because they were adorable. and it was my honor to serve them. i'm kind of thinking this is how the whole weekend is going to go...

tonight, i am just sad... that is all.

last night i was driving home from work. it was snowing. all day i had been listening to the weather reports saying that it was going to be a "snowpocolips" i was working the dinner shift. around 7 it started to fall. i was getting nervous because i had to drive home by myself. i couldn't understand why people kept coming in. all of the reports were warning people to stay home, to try and avoid as much of it as they could. but they kept coming in. ordering take-out. wanting to stay for hours drinking wine and pretending that there wasn't anything going on outside at all. our last pair of customers left at 9:40. i hobbled outside and brushed the snow off of my car... i started going home, scared because this was only the second time that i had driven in snow. it kept falling... i was going 35 and then all of the sudden i hit ice. my car started swerving so i stopped giving it gas, and i was trying to get control of it again, but it just kept going faster and faster, and there were cars next to me, i wanted to tell them to watch out. that they were going to get hit but i couldn't say anything. i couldn't even breathe. i was trying so hard, but i couldn't find my air. i was frozen, just babbling and breathing. but it wasn't working. i felt like i was suffocating, watching my car swerve and turn around in the wrong direction, sliding towards the median. i kept waiting for it to hit. to feel myself react from impact. but i couldn't feel anything. i had been on the phone with steevo, but i hung up, and started bawling my eyes out. these huge sobs that just kept coming. i kept crying and trying to breathe, and wiping the tears out of my eyes so that i could wiggle my car back in the right direction. it couldn't have been more than few minutes, but it felt like years. i was just pouring out my soul, hearing it everywhere, this unabashed panic breaking out of my chest.

i hate walking through my house at night. because everyone is asleep. i hate knowing that i'm the only one awake. maybe because i watched too many horror movies or something back in the day. but it's like i can feel the eyes on the back of my neck. or i can see faces in the shadows or behind me in the mirrors. it kind of sucks too, because some days i get this urge at like 2 in the morning to clean. and i clean and clean and clean and clean until my room is spotless. and everything is in its place. and my drawers are all closed. and the laundry is set out for me to do in the morning. and all of my books are where they should be. and everything is just set right where it's supposed to be. it makes me feel better before i go to sleep. but when i clean, i have trash. or something to take to the kitchen. or something that belongs in the bathroom mirror. and i need to venture out. but i hate going. because it doesn't feel right. and i feel scared. and cold. and... all by myself. and sometimes, i just can't handle that.

one of those girls

every boy wants a holly golightly. or and edie sedgewick. or a franny. every boy want's the kind of girl with the oscar wilde sense of humor. the girl who says things that sound silly, but you know they mean more than the words. the type of girl they can't quite figure out. the one who refuses to tell you her secrets, but when she does, he know's he'll never forget. not in a million years. the type of girl who's unmistakably beautiful, graceful, tiny. the type of girl who's bold. who will fall asleep on his shoulder with very little clothing, trusting that he won't take advantage. the type of girl who will take risks. the kind of girl who will never be ordinary.

every girl wants to be a holly golightly. or an edie sedgewick. or a franny. but we're not.

i would be the kind of girl to wear mens shirts and leggings if i had the body for it. i wouldn't wear make up if i had the face to go without it. i wouldn't wear eyeliner if i didn't have my fathers eyes. i wouldn't want to lose weight if i had a regular looking body.

my body is a cage. (and every time i listen to that song, i tear up) the person i want to be, is stuck inside my head. and i can't let them out, because the inside and the outside don't match. and no, you can't just do it anyway. because as much as you say the insides are more important, you have to get to know the insides. you can't just see them when you walk up.

i will never be tiny. that's what i've wanted my whole life. i've wanted to be small. someone that you could carry around in your pocket. big is not beautiful.

this is not okay

i guess i should thank you. for taking it upon yourselves to be my personal messenger. i guess now it saves me the trouble of telling everyone myself. except you never checked with me. you never asked if it was okay. you just decided to go and display this to the rest of the world. like a messenger pigeon that delivers the top secret folder to the enemy. don't you think if i had wanted you to know, i would tell you? if i was ready to talk about it, i would? it's a funny feeling now, to know that people are talking about this. they're analyzing me. but you know the real kicker? now it's not happening. mhmm. do you know who has to deal with the backlash? not you, me. "oh, well i wasn't sure if it was true or not" no? you didn't? really? you just thought it was okay to tell people whatever then.... is that right? yeah no. now i'm the one going around doing damage control while you're sitting there having a grand old time talking about how this was just a stunt. or something dumb like that. the next time you feel like talking, why don't you do everyone a favor and shut your face. sooner or later it's going to be you, and you're going to have no one to blame but yourself.

throw-back

i was just looking through the old files.... i found some of you too.