Say Cheese

"Smile", she said
As the camera flashed
And she took a photograph
To hang on her wall
Never guessing all her pictures of them
Would become seasonal.

Pensive Bear

I've been thinking tonight..
A dangerous pasttime, I know.

I do really stupid things. And I don't think that makes me a bad person, I am just very careless.
Sometimes, I am inconsiderate.

I mess up.
Sometimes, I even think I am doing the right thing.
And later, I discover that I am so very wrong. But I'm too scared to admit it.
Not because I don't want to admit I'm wrong, but because I'm scared of what will happen if I do.

All it takes is once for me to realize it's wrong. And I don't need to get caught to know it.

My heart broke for the first time when I was 14. It was my own fault. It was horrible. I thought I would never be okay again. I prayed and prayed to feel whole again, to meet someone new, to be happy.
And months later, I was. Because when you're 14, and you think you're in "love", it feels like the hardest blow. But it's nothing.
Every time it ends, it feels inevitable. Like I was waiting for it. And while it hurts, and feels like the end of the world, I know it's a temporary end, and I'm only biding my time until the next beginning.

This time when I break my own heart, I don't see the next beginning. All I see is lost potential.

Quote of the day:
"Your heart just breaks, that's all. But you can't judge or point fingers, you just have to be lucky enough to find someone who appreciate you."
- Audrey Hepburn

a liquid diet

"I want to be like water.
I want to slip through fingers but hold up a ship."

And that's all I want to be.

Apathetic or Maudlin?

I feel like I lost something today.

To be cliché, something I never really had.

Something I shouldn't have.

I have been frustrated lately. I've felt caged in and frustrated.

Taking a lot of deep breaths, counting to ten.

I feel like I don't know what I'm doing, what my next move should be.

I don't know what I want or what is best.

I can't tell...

I'm starting to doubt if this is right for me.

Ode to Nostalgia

I got off work early tonight.
Went home (well, to Meg's) and ordered a Papa John's pizza. Pepperoni of course.
I settle down with my Harry Potter book, break out my laptop to give facebook a quick glance, and am overcome by the urge to pick up the phone and dial a number I haven't dialed in months.
Not that I can't call it, like it would be inappropriate or awkward. But because the number I want to dial won't work, as the person it belongs to is in Canada.
Oh Canada. The summers I have cursed you...

I want to call my friend and apologize.
I want to call my friend so he knows how much I do and always will care.
I want to call my friend and talk about music and life.
I want to call my friend because I miss laughing so hard my stomach hurt, smiling until I thought my cheeks would break, and having those rare deep conversations where I know the things he says have never touched another's ear.

And maybe I'm nostalgic.
But really... I think I just miss a person who has been actively involved in my life for almost eight years now.

Really, I think I just miss one of my best friends.

god and i

were good friends.

I was in first grade when my feelings on religion changed.

I was raised Protestant. attended Sunday school every week and church after that.

Maybe I did not always pay attention.. but we prayed before we ate each night, holding hands at the dinner table.

And then it was my first day of school. I was six years old and ready to go, with my little backpack and my uniform (a plaid jumper and white polo).

I was the epitome of adorable.

Walk in to school, get lost immediately. The second grade teacher, guides me across the hall to the right classroom.. and there she stood. Sister Carol. In all her habit-ed glory.

And then came Father Mike - so handsome, so kind, so funny.

Second grade. My class was doing that second sacrament (technically third, I think): holy communion.

I wanted so badly to participate.

I wanted so badly to have that connection with God.

So I was baptized, on Easter in second grade. I wore a white dress, I held a candle, and I took a bath in Father Mike's holy water.

Next step: converting my entire family to Catholicism. Easy.

First communion? Piece of cake.

I was drawing pictures of God (a stick figure with a beard) in my diary at this point. I was also writing songs about how much I loved him. They went a little something like, "I love you lord, I love you, for all of my life." You know, really clever lines like that.

And to top it all off, I wanted to be a teaching nun. Just like Sister Carol

I wrote in my prayer journal up until the middle of fourth grade.

When mom and dad had their messy divorce, grandpa got cancer, and everything (felt like it) went to hell.

I still believed in god, then. Lots of kids go through those same things. It's part of growing up.
I still prayed. I still asked him for help and forgiveness. I still went to church and hugged Father Mike after every mass and took my eucharist and thanked the father, son, and holy spirit for it.

I don't know when I lost faith. I don't know when I stopped writing my songs to god.

I don't know when I stopped enjoying church as much as I did.

I don't think it coincided with any specific event. I think I just got older and my thoughts became more complex and I became, I hate to say it, less gullible.
I knew that prayer wouldn't fix all the problems in the world or make people less hateful or violent or intolerant.

I think I was in seventh grade when we had a guest pastor who gave his sermon about stem cell research and gay marriage and I thought to myself.. "well, that's not right"

And I wondered how an institution I believed in so much, that I put so much time and love and effort into, could be so.. wrong.

Because the Catholic church is so twisted and wrong and judgmental.

And I don't think I am cut out for that.

And I couldn't find anything better to believe in, so I walked away from religion all together.

And I walked away from god. And rarely looked back.

I dabbled in church off and on for a few years. I went back to my church every now and then. I went to a friends church. I participated in the youth group.

I could just never get that feeling back.

The feeling that I believe in something, something big and beautiful that will somehow help me, someday, somewhere along the way.

I may not believe in god.

But I believe in love, in music, in the kindness of people.

I have beliefs. I have faith.

And if someone were to prove me wrong about the big man, I wouldn't argue them down or be disappointed.

Because I have my faith. That's all I need.

And I'm sticking to it.

never needed it so much..

I've never wanted much.
I know, coming from me. That must be hard to believe.
But in all honesty?
Last night I was watching Dexter. And he turned to Rita and he asked her if she had a dream. You know, a dream for the future. And it turns out, all either of them want, is a normal life. To feel normal, and content, and comfortable.
Isn't that all anyone wants?
I mean, you would think. I will admit to wanting a little more than my fair share sometimes. Okay... often.
But wouldn't the world be such a beautiful place if everyone just wanted what they deserved, and they deserved what they worked for. And if everyone got everything out of life they want, if they would just want all the right things?

That would be nice.

Remember when...

.. we were little?

You were little and your biggest fears were monsters under the bed.
While most kids were scared of the boogeyman, you imagined him as Jack from The Nightmare Before Christmas. And he was your friend.
Still, you didn't like the dark, so you slept with a light on.
And hid a book under the covers, staying up way past bedtime because you just had to finish the next chapter, then the next. But mom said lights out so it had to be secret, just in case she came in and you were discovered.
You went to bed, and worried that everyone was having fun without you, but then you would sneak downstairs and your mom is sitting up, watching ER. And you realize you would rather be sleeping.
Or you waited until everyone else was asleep, and then your sister wakes you up to sneak downstairs for a midnight snack.
And a midnight snack wasn't a pizza ordered drunkenly at midnight, but a sandwich made with Lay's potato chips.
And you didn't have to make your own lunch, or wash the dishes or do the laundry because you probably couldn't reach the buttons anyway.
And your idea of a wild night was staying up half an hour later to watch TGIF with the "big kids", or playing board games or when your mom actually lets you play with her gorgeous thick hair, brushing it and putting in fancy clips, like you actually know what you're doing. Because you are practically a professional.
And you didn't always have to participate. It was acceptable to stand on the sidelines and observe, and in so many ways you were that much wiser than the so called "big kids", because while they bickered and argued and played, you noticed all the little things about each of them, all the details that they missed and were too loud to notice.
Or mom was too busy mediating them to notice the three oreos you took while no one was looking, each one shoved into your mouth whole, and the crumbs on your lips hastily wiped away so as not to leave a single trace of evidence that might get you in trouble.
And all you want to do is be around your big sisters, want them to like you, to be included.
So you sit outside the room, wishing you could play Barbies or business, waiting for someone to take pity on you and throw you a minor role in the game. Usually a non-speaking part.
And your mom is the prettiest woman in the world.
And your big brother is your hero, your little brother always a nuisance, but the one person you get to feel protective of, and you get to play the part of the "big kid".
And your grandparents are your angels.
Remember when you were little, and everything was simple and easy?
Remember when the lines between right and wrong were so much clearer, and black and white didn't exist because everyone had their own vibrant color.
Remember when the world still seemed as beautiful as we like to make it out to be?
I remember when the world still seemed as beautiful as I like to pretend it to be.

Thinking with the right head...

I have to stop writing about my feelings and write more about my thoughts.

I always thought the two were linked. But upon closer inspection, I realized they are easily separated.
Thoughts and feelings are always biased though.
I just need to learn to separate my heart from my head. I need to learn to think before I jump. To assess before I react.

As Michael Scott says on The Office, "Adapt, React, Readapt, Act."

Four steps to success. This is my first step. I am adapting.
See next post for step two: REACT.

And here we go again...

It's a sick game we play.

I hurt you, you hurt me.

I lie, you leave.

And we always end up right back in this place. We think we can, we think we can...

Because we want it so bad.

I just don't think I have it in me.

No, I just don't know for sure that I have it in me.

Because your eyes are a constant reminder of what I've lost, what I could have had.

What I didn't want.

Because my lips don't always form the words I'm dying to say, to scream. And this may one day cause me to explode.

After all, I'm just a girl. Barely an adult in years, in experience, in worldliness...

I'm not ready for the responsibility of carrying you while trying to hold myself.

I'm not strong enough, it would only break my back.

But we always end up right back in this place. We think we can, we think we can...

And I still want it so bad.

Rules.

Growing up, there were a few things our in house that were simply not tolerated:

- the words "shut up"
- hitting
- locking my little brother in the basement
- lying

As I got older, this list grew to:

- boys in my room
- skipping school
- lying

Somehow along my journey from a sweet, wide-eyed child to the young woman I am today, I learned to lie better than probably anyone I know.

Now, I'm not saying I'm some huge liar, because I'm not. It's impossible for me to lie to my sisters, to my best friend.

But if you are someone who is standing in front of me and expects me to tell you how I feel, don't expect an honest answer.
I couldn't give you one if I wanted to.



But if there is one thing I know about rules, it's how to play by them.

Being a BIG kid

I think I've grown up.

I think I've grown up enough to know what is good for me, to know wrong from right, to always eat my vegetables.
I think I'm grown up enough to know that sometimes people lie, people make mistakes, people will hurt you.
I think I've grown up enough to know that people learn, that people grow, but some people don't.
I think I've grown up enough to know that people will surprise you, people are incredible, but you have to deal with the bad stuff too.
I think I've grown up enough to know that the world is beautiful, even if you're not wearing those rose-colored glasses people always go on about.
I think I've grown up enough to know that I'm not ready to be a grown up, but I'm ready to start that process.

I wish my mom had told me that there's more to growing up than eating your vegetables and learning to tie your shoes.

But I can understand why she didn't.