Samplings of a Letter

I sometimes find myself sitting at my desk wondering if insanity is really such a bad option.  Right now I almost pray for delusions of grandeur and visions of dancing unicorns.  I don't think the truly insane feel pain like this.  Never have I felt so inconsolably lost.  I fake my way through the day with smiles and positivity while inside I'm torn, beaten, and burning.  I'm overwhelmed with the support across the board and don't know how to respond to it....or how to explain that some days no matter how much they all care, it isn't nearly enough.

I'm trying to find the time to learn who I am now...as a person.  I've spent my entire adulthood as a couple and am unsure how to approach the world now that the security of that is gone.  Even time seems to move differently now.  It seems to blur together and stand still at the same time.  Maybe I need a new habit.....or hobby as the case may be, but nothing seems to keep my attention.  TV and movies aren't the same when I'm alone (stupid romance), gaming alone is lame, I can't focus on anything long enough to read.  Hell, writing this has been almost like pulling teeth.  That isn't to say I'm not enjoying writing, but that it takes much more effort than it ever has and makes it hard to want to "try" something that has always come so naturally.  I just want to sleep away my time and not bother with anything else.  I'm always so tired.

Living Alice

Running scared, lost and confused
and stumbled into my very own rabbit hole.
One to give me love. One to give me pain.
One to set me off, one to set me straight.
Which door to choose, which path to take?


Chaos in ways never before imagined
The world upside down by surprise. 
Foes in places unsuspected
for reasons unknown
And no way to turn back or go home.

Waffles

My son is the most amazing little boy in the world. He is caring, loving, and the funniest person I know. Last night, he was snuggly and lovey and I can't tell you how much I love that kid. Really, this post is just a rambling explanation of how amazing Orion is and that each day he shows me just how blessed I am to have him in my life. He's taught me so much about myself and the world. Last night's lesson: True love is sharing your waffle.

My Muse

The muse...the source of inspiration...lifeblood and curse of any writer. Mine tends to want to play after everyone else goes to bed. Usually this is met with an internal struggle debating between the need to get an idea solidified and the desire to sleep. My mind tells me "sleep is for the weak" while my body tells me "sleep or pay tomorrow." There is no chance at making both happy, so a decision must be made. Are those midnight thoughts worth the sluggish morning feeling, or is that extra sleep worth losing a thought that may never be thought by you (or anyone else) ever again?

The muse can be an amazing lover; embracing and fulfilling, giving into your desires and making your wildest dreams come true. It can also be a cold-hearted bitch; coming back time and again at a whim, showing up when you'd rather she not, and hiding away when you're begging her to come home, showing up unannounced on your porch and demanding your attention in the middle of your birthday party.

The muse is that secret voice that whispers sweet nothings into your ear while you're drifting off to dreamland. Sometimes those thoughts will keep you warm and and cozy as the world slowly darkens around you. Sometimes though they will catch you off guard and scare away all chances of rest until an idea is complete.

We have no control of it, nor a true desire to control it. Only a slight annoyance with the way it tends to appear at the most inconvenient times possible. However, if I had to chose, I would rather it show up inconveniently than not show up at all. As I said, it is my lifeblood. Through it I am given the freedom of thought and expression. I'm given the chance to think and explore in a way that my brain would otherwise never be able to. I almost feel sorry for those who have never been so struck by an idea that they must crawl out of bed and write it as quickly as possible while praying that the idea won't fade away completely.

It's the desire to create that keeps me coming back for more, begging for her attention, secretly laying awake at night and hoping to hear her whispering in the darkness. It's generally when it's least expected that she decides to grace me with her presence. Even when I so desperately want to be sleeping and she appears, I'm still grateful she's returned.

So tonight, I spend the night wrapped with my occasional lover, enjoying the sweet familiar embrace, and watch the sun rise.

Now I Lay Me

Now I lay me down to sleep
my soul....I want to fucking keep
If I die before I wake
that's one less breath I have to take.

Now I lay me down to sleep
In my bedroom I will creep
Into bed I will now slide
Right before the sun does rise.

Now I lay me down to sleep
and hide beneath the blankets deep
If I make it through the night
I didn't make it without a fight.

Now I lay me down to sleep
against my chest, the knife I keep
and now you I won't mislead
my wrists are slit and now I bleed.

Now I lay me down to die
and kiss this fucking world good bye
Life became a fucking chore
I could not take it anymore.

Now I lay me down to die
there is no reason for you to cry
It wouldn't matter if you do
For, tonight, my life is through.

Accepting Me

Staring off into space, replaying a conversation that I may someday have to have in the future. Playing both sides in my head in an effort to prepare myself for the worst. It's what I do.

Little things can drive me crazy....like considering how different things would be if I would have ran that stop light, or making sure that I have my ID on me, even if I have checked 4 times already. Eventually these stupid concerns become habit, like touching my ID before walking out the door, or or refusing to say "good-bye" to loved ones when hanging up the phone (I always end with I love you because I think it's a much better sentiment to end on). I try to keep most of this insanity to myself. It's incredibly embarrassing to be caught doing something that logically I understand is stupid, but that doesn't make it any easier to not do it. It's called OCD and it's my life.

There are days that are super easy and it's barely noticeable....days that I don't care if my food happens to touch each other on it's plate and don't wonder if I could pay the bills if my husband were to leave me (mind you we have been together for 10 years so this is a pretty irrational thought). However, there are other days....days that a little thought or idea can drive me insane for hours on end. Days where I replay past conversations to see if I could have made them turn out better, and replay ones that I see myself having in the future to prepare for the worst. Days where I get freaked out when someone else uses my hand sanitizer or tries to hug me. I suffer in my silence because I really do know what that it sounds crazy. I don't want people to think I'm crazy. I have rituals for things...lots of things...that most people don't even notice...even those that are closest to me. I am not a clean freak, and germs don't normally give me the willies, so don't get the wrong idea, but that doesn't mean that I don't suffer in a very different way. I have tried really hard to get past my issues, and some of them I have been able to conquer.

In the past I would never call anyone, and definitely wouldn't call a stranger to do something like, say, order a pizza. Last night I didn't think twice before calling to order food from our local restaurant. I'm not defeated, and I'm not giving up, but more taking the steps to acknowledge that I am different, and I'm ok with that. I think it makes me who I am, but I won't ever let it define me.

Bad Music

I've been told that I have really weird taste in music. To start off, let it be known that "Done Wrong" by Vermillion Lies is currently playing on my last.fm and I'm rocking out in my cubical at work. I love music of many different flavors. If you can spur emotion in me, or make me feel like I should be dancing, or spark a memory, or just do something I tend to fall head over heals in love with your sound. Lyrics are a totally different subject. There have been many songs that I have hated when I initially heard them, but after forcing myself to actually listen to the lyrics I feel myself melting on the inside and letting those words become a part of my soul. Weezer is one of those bands. I really didn't like their sound and the whining of the lead singer just about drove me up the wall, until one day I sat down and listened to the randomness of their lyrics and knew I had been wrong. There are, however, other songs that the lyrics are absolutely horrifyingly terrible, but I love them anyway, because they make me want to move, or dance, or make love, or anything. For example.....there is a song called "Chicken with it's head cut off." Lyrically this has to be absolutely the worst song in existence....but I love it. The sound, the way it makes me feel. I love it. Music just makes me happy....need I say more?

Every Time

Every time I hear the phone ring I jump in anticipation, but then force myself again to beware of the monster that may be on the other line. So many times his laughter has brought me in, enticing me to become like him. So many times I've denied it, or been denied, yet each time it hurts as much as the first. Do I push past the fears and accept it? Do I trust him? How much would it hurt me if I did give in, and he proved that nothing has changed again? Do I need that?

This time seems different, the laughter and love have lasted longer than ever before. No anger, no prodding, yet I'm still afraid. I don't know how long it will take for him to return to that dark place, and bring about the viciousness inside. What have I done to deserve this? Can't I just make all the memories go away and enjoy this while it's here? Why do I feel like I need this so desperately?

He comes in at random, playing the good guy, rescuing me from myself. He makes me believe he can make things different, and better. As soon as I find myself depending on him, he's gone again. No warning, no explanations, just gone. Can I survive that torture again? What will happen if he disappears again? Why can't he be like a "normal" person? What the hell am I saying? What the fuck is normal?

Each time I build myself back into the person I want to be, deciding that I can survive without him, he returns. Every time the longing for him goes away, it is almost like he senses it and breaks down my barriers again. How much will it hurt this time? How do I change it? Can I turn things around? Do I accept him and the inevitable pain, or do I hurt him like he has hurt me so many times before?

Frog Princess Prompt

So today I was updating my blogger profile. I decided to try to get a new "Random Question" because I was bored out of my mind, and this is the prompt that I got:  The children are waiting! Please tell them the story about the bald frog with the wig.   I thought I would throw something out there for fun, but it got a lot longer than it should have....so here is my story!!

Once there was an incredibly vain princess.  She was constantly checking her reflection and thinking "Wow I kick a lot of ass".  Her parents were terrified that she stay single forever (or, more accurately, they wouldn't be able to pawn her off for someone else to deal with her for a change) because she constantly turned down every advance because she felt that no prince was handsome enough for her time.  She'd rather be single than marry someone that she felt was "below" her! Her parents were growing more and more annoyed with her antics, and asked her one day to go find something to do.  The girl was incredibly angry (I mean, she was way more attractive than either of her parents could ever dream) so she decided that she was going to run away and find her own handsome prince, instead of dealing with the disgusting pigs her parents continuously brought before her.  She left the castle, and began walking through the woods in a direction that she was sure would lead her to a country she had heard held insatiable beauty, with only the clothes on her back and a mirror in her pocket.

She quickly began to get irritated with having to walk all by herself.  Her dress was getting dirty, her hair was a mess, and she's pretty sure that a bird had tried to poop on her deliberately!  She was reaching the point where she was ready to turn around and go home (despite the fact that she had only been gone for 15 minutes) when walking down a path came a very old man with a very stereotypical long white beard.  The girl noticed him, and put her nose up in the air as high as she could, hoping the was see her great beauty and leave her alone.  Instead, the man walked directly towards her and said "Hello."  The girl tried to keep walking and pretend she didn't hear him, but he continued to walk towards her and said "Hello" once again.  With the largest, most annoyed sigh she had ever given, the princess responded "Hello" and continued walking, hoping he would leave her alone.

The old man continued to try to make conversation with the princess, asking her where she was going, what she was doing in the woods alone, and trying to tell her that it wasn't a safe place to be. The princess was starting to get scared despite ignoring the old man's pleas for her safety and turned back toward the castle.  She began walking more and more quickly, but the old man was still on her tail.  Finally she gave in her silence, turned around toward the man and screamed "What do you want!??"  He told her "I just want to make sure you get home safely.  The woods are not a safe place for a girl as pretty as you.  I just want your help."  The princess was stunned.  This old man was hitting on her!!!  She turned all of her built up anger at all the ugly people around her and blasted it toward the old man "I am the most beautiful princess in the entire world.  I could have any handsome prince that I wanted wrapped around my finger, and yet you think that I want YOUR help?.  You are an ugly, creepy little toad of a man and I want you to leave me alone."  The old man stood up as tall and straight as he possibly could and said "You must have no idea who I am or your tone would not have turned in such a manner.  I'm the most powerful wizard in the country and could make you look as hideous as me with a simple glance.  You should know, young girl, that your insides are much more ugly than my appearance could ever be.  For that, you shall never know happiness."  He turned to walk away and the princess once again shouted after him "You're a terrible little man!  There is nothing you could ever do that would make me as ugly as you."

The old man stopped in his tracks, sighed deeply, and looked back over the shoulder at the girl.  His gaze met hers and then he continued down the path away from the princess.  As soon as the old man was out of sight, the princess began to feel weird.  Her body tingled and she felt like she had a frog in her throat.  She continued walking toward the castle, hoping to make it home before dark.  As she finally exited the woods and could see the castle in the distance the world suddenly swirled around her.  She found herself wrapped in a warm blanket of cloth and thought someone was trying to capture her.  She worked and struggled and fought, trying to break free of her bonds. When she finally broke free and found the light of day, she felt incredibly weird...almost slimy.  She reached her arms up to fix her hair (which she was sure was a disaster after that fiasco) and found instead a smooth, bald head and let out a scream.  She scrambled to reach into her pocket to find her mirror, but as she tried to slide her hand in her pocket she realized it wasn't there, and either were her cloths.  She looked down and saw the horrible little green body she had suddenly obtained, with webbed toes and fingers.  The young princess searched through what she discovered to be her dress and found her mirror.  She was horrified by her reflection.   She tried to walk over to the grass, to find herself something to cover up both her body and her hideous head.  She made herself a tiny dress out of leaves, and a little green wig out of grass.

I would love to say that this story has a happy ending, but that would be a lie. The princess never learned her lesson.  Instead, she found a group of frogs that she thought were much uglier than her and declared herself her princess.  She's still there today.  If you're walking through the woods one day and see a castle in the distance, look along the path and you just may find the very vain frog princess, in a little green dress and tiny grass wig, sitting on the side of the road and staring at you like she thinks that you are even more hideous than she is.