ruler breaker/heart shaker

What fun is living if you can't make rules and then ditch them, right?

Sigh. Actually, I didn't intend to come on here to write. I came to read. I wanted to know HOW was it that I felt 6 months ago when Billy and I broke up. Just HOW BAD was it? It was a really bad break up, wasn't it???

Because we're talking again for some reason, and he wants to hangout, and I'm sorta almost game. Partially out of curiosity (is he still the same person he was back then? does he still drive that jeep? am I going to fly into a rage and break his glasses and punch his lights out? do we still have good chemistry together?) and partially because I'm just not as resolute as I should/could be. And because I love being invited to a costume party. (and because I NEVER GET TO HAVE SEX ANYMORE<<<< ARGH)

I know. It's a bad idea. I know.

But I'm also really tired of talking to guys who don't understand standard English but brag about their intelligence/vocabularies.

I miss someone knowing me and caring and wanting. And I guess I miss being walked on a little bit, too. If I hadn't just had my fill of therapy talk from a psychology student I know, I'd say that I need some.

I don't know if you read those links

The one's I have posted to the right? Well, one of my friends wrote a post late last night that helped me somewhat today. OK granted I am terribly low today, but it helped by bringing me back from extreme otherworldly dark lowness to a more corporeal ordinary broken-life low which seems like an improvement, except this for some reason hurts more.

For the record, nothing awful is going on in my life, besides being so low- in fact I had a killer day yesterday all around; I had a nice breakfast, played tennis with my mom, went out for tea with her, hung out w/ John in the afternoon, watched a funny movie/drank wine with Helen, and enjoyed a really good homemade soup. I even have a an exciting job prospect on the horizon.


Anyways, B's post about camping/trail riding says that sure there are unexpected miserable parts (forgotten gear, inclement weather, mosquitoes), but they help to create the stories you'll tell your friends later, when you come back. And he says life is like that.


So here's to the uncomfortable, unplanned, undesirable, mosquito bite ridden, miserably low days.

I think I have my faculties back (& FYI neurotoxins suck and I am officially too old for this kind of thing)

It's been a week since the neurotoxins entered my body and I'm getting back to normality. The paralysis in my right hand is a lot better, so that I can do everything (well, nearly everything) that I'm accustomed to.

During the first few days I experienced imbalance while walking, temperature regulation issues, weakness, and dehydration, but mental fogginess was the most annoying symptom of the ciguatera. I had this vague sense of deep loss and it was really depressing (depression, another supposed symptom). Having discussions with my friends, typing/using the internet, dressing myself, cooking/housework, and just any kind of making sense at all were all REALLY difficult for a few days. But we've all pitched in concerted efforts to make sure I will regain whatever part of my brain was destroyed.

Since the poisoning, I've taught myself to drive my new manual transmission car, have been going to the beach, reading a lot, exercising, and playing scrabble almost daily. If this is rehabilitation, I think I like it.

But this whole thing is sort of ironic and sad. I, of all people, champion the deliciousness of all the little creatures of the sea. I am a huge sushi fan (yes, the raw kind). Eel, squid, octopus, mussels, and conch all sound like dinner to me, every day of the week. And now I am supposed to abstain from seafood (as well as caffeine, nuts, and alcohol) for a few months, to ensure that I don't have a resurgence of cigua-terror.

But you know what I think? A life without seafood (or coffee, nuts, and liquor) is a life hardly worth living.

the official colors of victory: range road perrywinkle and herculean green

Last night was pretty monumental. I had my trig exam, and I knew I'd gotten an A on it. I did my biology final. I passed my (completely lame) Computer Competency test.

After the exam, I trembled and spoke quickly, caffeinated out of my mind. Helen picked me up and we went to band practice, where I had a little bit of a freak out in my head. I couldn't help but feel the swell and break of the waves.

Adrenaline coursed through me, as I thought about all of those nights that were spent pouring over my books. The cramps I've gotten in my hands and neck, from note-taking or working on papers. I have cried under pressure, begged for drugs to help me get through it, and shook with relief each time a semester ended.

And last night, the sky and the leaves against it seemed to be as jubilant as I.

Maybe this is a miracle... even all the rough patches, the dropped courses, and the occasional bad grades... I am not only graduating, but WITH HONORS. The shock is still with me.

It's 3:34 am and I thought you might need a Decemberists fix, too

Delightfully ridiculous, and no, I'm not drunk. Ha ha ha.

putting it all on the line

For the past day and a half, I've wondered what was up with Billy. To tell you the truth, I still don't know.

But I heard from him last night (so it's not the hospital, jail, or rehab) and he said he's not doing so great right now, that it has nothing to do with me, and that we'll chat later. And he apologized for leaving me hanging. [Tell me, how did he manage to assuage my bristled spirit with only 3 short lines of text? I don't know, but he did.]

This is part bittersweet and part relief; something is NOT well with him and that makes me incredibly sad, because I care. Everyone has heartache, and I have seen the dark shadow that outlines his bright, luminescent true self. And I don't mean that in a bad way; we all have that dark shadow traveling with us.

So here is me putting it all out there, even though he might break up with me when we talk later (I'm no longer expecting that, but technically it's POSSIBLE):

I still believe in love, trust, hope, romance, and truth. Sure, Tom put me through the wringer, and someone else I associated closely with (and would have been good to, all the days of my life) treated me badly. And if Billy is going to go from A+ boyfriend to just a memory in such a short span of time, that's going to be alright eventually too.

I don't care how much risk there is! I don't care if you all laugh at me, ridicule my choices, all of the times I give someone the benefit of the doubt and that person disappoints.

I don't care what you say. There IS something special about driving home with someone and singing together, and even when you get there, you take another loop through the neighborhood because your mate has started the song over, so you can both sing through it a second time, together.

just like journaling

...crying is cathartic. And somehow, Death Cab For Cutie brings it to the table every time- full bodied and sparkling. We REEEAAALLY want to go see them at the Hard Rock, but I don't think it's going to happen.

Anyways, I just found the official video for Grapevine Fires, and it's amazing. Have at it.

I don't want to talk about it, wait, I mean I do

Ugh.

WHY is it that one half of my life is going really well (excellent, even) and the other half is in shambles.


Seriously, all the "me as an individual" stuff is fine. My personal life is bustling with joviality and freshness and vim. I've got a date to the State Fair (romantic, huh?). My classes are going well, by which I mean that I've lost track of how many A's I've scored on tests in the past 4 weeks. My house is clean, I've been eating healthy... I could go on, but my heart is breaking.

"Me as a mother" is in jeopardy; not my identity with that role, but the actual mechanics of it.
Harry called to b---- me out this morning because Cora reported back to him about something I said to her about her late arrivals to school. Granted, what I said was wrong; I told her that I don't want her running to Harry to tattle on me about me getting her to school late that day. YES I know he needs to be informed, etc etc. But I was frustrated because he has been calling me with non-stop complaints about my way of doing things lately.

So, anyways, of course, she must want me to be even more stressed and flip out even more, because she went and told him exactly that and then he called me a dozen times to make me even more miserable than I already am about it all.

All I could tell him was that I know I suck at it and I'm SORRY. I'm pretty sure I can make this all work (God, I hope so). Sure, I've been impatient, as I had some pretty big problems come up right after the holidays, and yes, I've made mistakes. I want to be really good at mothering. But, according to Harry, I'm a really bad person and I might as well just give up trying.


I hate dualism sometimes.

the realists

Sometimes all the little tragedies we face build, until the tension is so great, that our whole understanding of life comes tumbling down.

Sometimes the negative things we go through makes us wiser, better, closer; sometimes even being blessings in disguise.

And sometimes, there is just nothing to analyze at all... it's just how it is.



I like the 'glass of water' approach; is it half full or half empty? You know how the optimists and pessimists answer this one.

How about the realist?

She would say that the glass is simply twice as big as it needs to be.

flying

No, first off, I'm not running off to Korea, not just yet. But just the same, I am flying, in a way. Maybe that's the drugs talking. See what happens when you put a painkiller in me? It kills the pain, makes it ALL go AWAY.

Suddenly, I have a strange and frightening deep empathy for He Who Shall Not Be Named (and you know I don't read Harry Potter, so it's not that bad guy, I mean that other bad guy). It's just true that waking up having no recollection of the previous evening is only disturbing if you dwell on it; if, instead, you are dwelling on the spine-tinglingly beautiful and the aesthetically... um, what was I saying? Argh, my attention span!

Assuming we are similarly afflicted, go do s o m e t h i n g while you listen to this heart-breakingly beautiful song... The "big city, little town" hook is how I feel about here, my self professed home base. Oh, and I'm fairly certain a well-meaning fan made this video, and I thought for a moment that it'd also be heart-breakingly beautiful, until it dawned on me that the opening IS the whole video. What a shame.



-- Wait -- Are you thinking "what painkillers?" and "what's going on?"...

I forgot to fill you in on some details.


I was going to write a whole blog about how lucky I feel and how life is precious and fragile and about awareness and fear and preseverance. And then my painkillers kicked in and I could smile.

My face is NOT broken. I intend to keep on riding. The RUDE_ASS driver of the white pick up truck did not kill me. My new bike is ok. I flipped over my handlebars for the first time ever, and I hit the pavement teeth first. I took to it like a duck to water.

That was Thursday night. I had the right of way, I was riding conscientiously, I had TWO lights on my bike and a (practically neon) green hoodie sweatshirt on. A truck wanted to turn, so it invoked the "bigger, stronger" clause and did so, after making eye contact with me. Unfortunately, I had some speed and had the right of way, so stopping was a bit of a surprise, as was tasting the road. My bike hit me on the back of the head, my quart of yogurt exploded in my messenger bag, the truck sped off into the distance.

Did you know that this past Wednesday night, in St. Pete, a 20 year old, who had gone to Clearwater High with some of my friends, died? He was riding his bike (with two lights on it) and was struck by a Jeep. The St. Pete Times gave it all of 50 words and mostly just pointed out that he had not been wearing a helmet and that the driver just was not aware of his presence on the road. Oh, and that no charges had been filed.

This is not just upsetting to me, this is UPSETTING. After my 'incident' I was shaken up and worried about what I'd look like with no front teeth. And then I thought about what I could have done differently. And about how to prevent this sort of thing. And about how if I had been going a little bit faster, I'd be dead.

In times like these, I wish my dad was around

He was not only a lawyer/genius/artist/philanthropist... he was an economist, too.

I would really like some answers re: economic theory, and cause & effect.

In lieu of his corporeal presence, I will be popping in on Rick Penberthy, an old favorite teacher, that I'm sure I've blogged about before. He taught my high school psychology classes, economics, and also was our Academic Team coach/faculty sponser. He was the only person (besides the other members of the team) that made me feel like knowing the difference between Albert Durer and Alberti tiles was worthwhile.

I hear they don't ask about them much on that FCAT... but that's neither here nor there.

Anyways, I'm going to pay Mr. Penberthy a visit this week, when I get a chance.


Do you know what was being touted as newsworthy on Yahoo today? I know, because it's my homepage, so I can see my emails and stay abreast of these important stories (rolling eyes). There were 4 that got top billing:

1) "Latest Dancing Celeb Got The Boot"

2) Jennifer Hudson's engagement ring

3) Best times of year to purchase cars

4) What DOES $700 BILLION dollars compare to


Am I the only one feeling nauseated?

Why don't we, a generation of Americans who have more access to networking and information than ever before, feel more compelled to give a shit?

I will agree that this election (the past few, actually) have been bringing people out of the woodwork, but I suspect that's partly because it's so dramatic and heavily advertised on the shiny TV. What about the other issues we don't get in an uproar about? I'm not saying WHO we have for president isn't important, but that if the people sit back to WATCH the president, no matter who it is, we have surrendered. Even if Obama wins, I hope the Democrats stay on top of him, bust his chops a little. And not with the drama, please. Just keep him working.


Last night, in my American History class we covered the demise of the Articles of Confederation and the writing of the Constitution. This stuff always gets me all worked up (can't you just see me crying on the 4th of July? LOL you think I'm joking).

Outside on break, I was chatting up one of the hot guys in my class.

me: So, how d'you like this class so far?

him: Oh, it's alright. He's funny sometimes. [the professor IS funny sometimes] How about you?

me: It's social sciences, pertains to my major, so I enjoy it, you know? It's interesting to me.

him: Oh, it doesn't have any practical application for me, I just needed the credit. [in his defense, hottie is an engineering major]

me: Well! It's still applicable; you are American!

--we both laugh, and then I wonder if he probably thinks I'm psychotic now or something--

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I rode 9 miles yesterday, and I broke my personal record (!!!) for how quickly I got TO school (it's uphill).

a really hard thing

It's probably part of the cycle of life, how sometimes we are UP and other days very much down... Well, that's natural for me anyways.

But, yeah, there are some issues I am dealing with right now. Not really direct, clearcut home-sickness, but I did have a dream last night where I tried to find a way to end the trip early. Of course, there was none.

Basically, what's going on is that my grandma is a compulsive tidy person, and I am me (and, naturally, my kids know MY ways and rules). Of course she loves me but there have been problems. I've been cautious, above and beyond my usual manner, to wash every dish and spoon we dity, to gather up after them, and so on, but the fact remains that I do not have all the answers, or eyes in the back of my head. I'm struggling to do my best and it's definately wearing me out everyday. It's just not enough.

The house is FULL to the brim with delicate, beautiful, expensive things that appeal to children... Tiny animals made of austrian crystal, nice linens, etc. Some things are less expensive (little baskets full of decorative soaps in the bathroom that are GLUED into place in the basket, lol), but that doesn't really change anything to my grandma when they are pulled out because somebody (we still don't have a confession from the guilty party) thought they were toys.

Also, electricity is very expensive, and three year olds love to turn on lights.

My grandma is also old (you know how old people are), so she is naturally set in her ways and any form of disorder in the house makes her already sore back hurt MUCH worse. And since I went so many years without and wishing I had this family back I truly want to humor her...

Si, abuelita. Por supuesto... (Yes, grandma. Of course.)

Whether it's about giving the kids their ommelette WITH their arepas (no difference to me) or asking them to stop leaving little handprints on the walls (I'd def rather they didn't!), I agree with her. And she insists that no food be thrown out, that shoes always be worn in the house, that beds are made crisply. The list goes on.

I have OFFICALLLY been asked to do a better job at disciplining them (I guess all these years I've been having fun indulging them??) so hopefully we will go home with wonderful new habits in place regarding cleanliness, self discipline, chores, etc.

Ugh. No wonder they keep liquor in this house.

just when I thought the coast was clear

It's like a fresh, fresh wound. I feel incredibly sick.

Harry just (gleefully?) told me that Tom's been engaged to Paige since early March. Wait, i'm confused... he and I were planning on getting married, and were even trying to concieve back then.

Then he started acting 'different', we grew more distant, and even tried to upset each other some in the death throes of those last couple of weeks.

But- being serious about someone else like that?


Tom has not confirmed the extent of that rumor, but he has finally admitted (just this moment) that he and Paige are an item, as of late. And he says he's happy now, and that he wants me to stop texting him, but he's the one who's been initiating the conversations.


I was all giddy, why did this crap have to come up today?


Let it just be said that for the record (pulling a 'Trent' here):

I don't think I ever want to be in a relationship with someone who has not had their share of devastation/had their heart trampled like this. It would just be too hard to relate, I think.

I'm trying to believe that this will all have made me a better person, a more well rounded and less naive person.