Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Don't Lie To Me

Don't lie and pretend you knew nothing of us not staying at your house Christmas eve. Several people, including myself, told you. So, don't give me this shit.

I understand that you did what you felt you had to, but now I'm trying to understand how this slipped by unnoticed all these years. You were good at hiding skeletons. Please do not hide the truth from me. I love you and I can help you.

You have disappointed me again. Maybe you have selective memory, but in my experiences you remember things better than I do. I do not remember things readily, but when I do, I fucking do. I know you were lying. I don't want this to come between us again, so, please don't lie to me.

I know I cannot tell you everything. For my own safety and for your piece of mind some things must remain hidden. I come under the guise that I can say anything. That this place is safe, and for the most part it is. Most of the time I'd rather talk to you rather than anyone else, but I am sorry. I am sorry that I lie to your pointed questions, but I do so for my own protection.

Please do not tell me you are okay when you clearly are not. I know its a lie and you know that I know. But then isn't that the exact same lie I just told you moments earlier? And don't I know that you know that, too?
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Monday, December 27, 2010

Christmas Lessons

Don't give a three year old a 500 piece puzzle. I am seriously going to bring it back to grandma's house. The boy expected a nice puzzle that would have Buzz together in 30 seconds and when he wasn't he just cried.

Christmas is for the poor. It seems like families with money don't appreciate Christmas like poorer families do. I know a few richer families that don't even exchange gifts. In my family everyone gives everyone a gift. Even new boyfriends that not everyone knows. And they seem to be better gifts, a lot of homemade things, or something someone casually remarked that they might like to have. Remember that song where the woman sells her hair for a watch chain and the husband sells his watch for combs for her hair?

I am Ryder's mother no matter where we are. If I want to take him somewhere I will. It does not matter who is around. If I want to watch him open his presents, I will. My new years resolution is to stand up for myself. I am his mom. My mother is not.

Christmas is anti-climatic. I worked so hard for months to make everyone's gifts, for it to be over in a few minutes.

Next year I am doing Xmas at my house. If anyone wants to come over, they are welcome, but I am doing things my way. We are going to open gifts one at a time so we can watch each other. And no one will complain that I am "behind".

Any gifts that are not age appropriate, go into storage until they are.

My final Christmas lesson is that Xmas is not supposed to be sad. I need to surround myself with people who do not make me cry. And I have the ability to do that.
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Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Humbug

Stupid fucking thing, I thought to myself as I threw the tree on the curb.

You know when Scrooge is with the Ghost Of Christmas Yet To Come and he sees his own grave?  He keeps insisting these events can be changed.  But despite how jolly or humbug he is, he will still die.  I don't get this.

I went back into the house and started coughing again.  I had put the whole tree together before I noticed it was trying to kill me.

I understand the Marleys telling him about the chains after he dies.  That makes sense... I guess.

Ryder didn't seem to mind the mold on the tree, but my poor lungs could not take it.  Sorry, Ryder, no tree this year, I silently conveyed to him.

And Scrooge was rich and had nice things.  So won't the poor loot his shit when he dies either way?

Apparently, not having a Christmas tree is some sort of sin or something, because everyone insisted that I had to have a tree.  I wasn't going to be at home on Christmas day, I explained, but this meant nothing.

Maybe this is all explained better in the book?  I tried reading it once, but Dickens was too hard for me.

When we got home that night, Santa (my mom) had set up a tree for us.  Ryder was really excited.  We decorated it right away.  I was convinced that the lights were moldy too, but they might have just been musty.  I'll get rid of them after Christmas either way.

The tree is beautiful and we had loads of fun, so I guess we did need the tree.  Then I remembered that I hadn't mailed the cards out yet.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

My Year in Status


Click the image to see it bigger

See what you could be seeing if you were facebook friends with me?  :D



Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Go, Please

Why are you still here?
I have told you to leave
Yet you remain

What are your intentions?
What are you meaning to do?

Please leave.
Please take your stuff and go.
Please let us heal in peace.
It is too hard when you are still here.

When you are in the kitchen and the living room
When you are in My bed.
When you invade my dreams.

This is my time.
Not yours.
You gave it up.
You gave us up.
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Thursday, December 2, 2010

Writing and Learning

I have been meaning to write about this for a while now, so I am glad that it is today's prompt.

What inspires you to write?

I write with the hope that by the end I will have learned something.  Usually it is something about myself, but not always.

Sometimes I write about stuff other than myself - I do!  Look at my tag cloud! - and sometimes I even do a bit of research.  Sometimes it is just a rant, but even then, looking at it after it is done, I hope to find insight and perhaps even tolerance.  I hope, perhaps, that some of you might gain the same.

Most of the time, I write about my feelings.  I write about my fears and concerns and self doubts.  I write to let them all out and sort through them.  I can't make sense of them when they are twisting and turning in my head.  They look less scary on paper or on the screen.  More manageable.

I write to learn about myself.


Mama's Losin' It

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Depression: the levels

Level 1: sad
Level 2: really sad
Level 3: dark rain cloud follows you around
Level 4: you fall into a hole or well or something. You are at the bottom and it is dark black all around and you cannot climb out
Level 5: the darkness and blackness is inside you. It is in control. The only way to get this darkness out is by cutting your skin and letting it out. You feel the darkness seep out immediately but only a little is released.

I'm at a level 5 right now.

Here is a short not all inclusive list of topics that should not be mentioned in my presence:

No random trivia on the ex. Unless you are telling me that he has money for me.
Horses. I can't explain it right now but in the same vein no camping, rock climbing, or vacationing either.
Don't ask me about my birthday and what you are not getting for me. Also don't talk about the fucking restraining order.
Don't ask me when I can get a babysitter. Let's just assume that I never can.
Don't ask me about my plans or ambitions. I have none therefore I have nothing to say. Don't ask about the job hunt either. There is no hunt.

I'm not sure what leaves, exactly, but that's fine too. It's hard to talk with all this darkness in my throat.
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Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Imprisoned

You keep me here
Behind this wall
Behind this dark wall
Behind this black wall

Where I can hear see feel only you

then a hole
A small hole
One I can peek out
I can see things
Talk to people

Almost fall in love

But just as quick as it came the hole shuts up
And you, my guard, starts talking yelling
Telling me how worthless I am
How shitty I am
Reminding me of all the bad things that happened
The bad things I allowed
I was responsible

I try to defend myself against you
But you are as strong as I am, but more
I am no match for your hateful words

You throw me back into the black hole
You throw me a lifeline covered in razor wire
You care for me
You do not want me to dehydrate so you send liquor
You need me to need you

You want me to forget
You want me to look out the hole
You want me surprised and scared when the abuse starts

You want me to yourself
You cannot let me out
I am stuck in here with you

With myself.
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Sunday, November 21, 2010

Kind Words and Cruel People

Good morning fellow travelers. We are on our final approach to North Station. The sun is shining and it is a beautiful day. Be kind to each other out there. Have a good day and help make it that way.

People are unbelievably cruel. Sometimes someone does something just so far outside my comprehension that I can't get over it.

We are sorry for the hold up, folks. We are having signalling problems but should be on our way in a few minutes. Those on the left side of the train can look out your windows and see a red winged blackbird.

I actually enjoy my morning commute. First, if I get to the station early enough for the express, I can get a good parking spot. I can see my favorite conductor. I can hear my favorite engineer. I can walk to work across the locks and down cobblestone. One thing has changed.

Good morning fellow travelers. I am sad to say this will be the last time I will say that. Three months ago someone complained about an engineer saying positive things in the morning. Then the voice was silenced. Three weeks ago the voice retired. I would like to bid adieu by reading this poem entitled "Traces"...

I cannot believe people would be this angry over a man sending out positive messages in the morning. It is not like he talked for the entire 25 minutes. He only spoke for the last few minutes. I sleep on the train and am more than happy to be woken by his kind words.

I am going to miss my favorite engineer and I hope he continues making the world a happier place.

And I hope the person who complained has a new person in their life trying to make them happy. They are clearly a miserable person.
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Wednesday, November 17, 2010

BBFF

I had never done it before.
I had never wanted to.

But as we spoke
More and more
I decided
I would

The day drew near
And my fear grew
But you are my friend
And I trusted you.

Then you came
And it was wonderful
As if we'd been close
All along.
I knew this wouldn't be the last

Something unexpected
Something I don't do often

But it was grand.

You traversed country borders
State borders
You came and made me smile

And for this I thank you.

For Mel


Mama's Losin' It
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Monday, November 15, 2010

Old Poems

I am not sure when I wrote these, but considering the writing I was clearly intoxicated. The first is untitled.



ask for my slice
yet
I cannot use yours

love is a full glass
he and she like its
red liquid
leave some for I




Follow Your Heart

What's the matter?
I don't know.
You ask and I reply
I don't know
Honestly

All that I know is that
I love you
and miss you
If I wait much longer
to see you
I'll go insane

Life is rough
When you are not around
You make my life bearable
and wonderful.

I love you
I miss you
I wish you were
sleeping here next to me

Where are you tonight?
I don't know.
All I know is that you're
not next to me

I love you
and I miss you

If you want to know
what is wrong with me
It's that you are not
next to me tonight.
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Sunday, November 14, 2010

A Fantasy

Sometimes I listen to country music and pretend that I live in the heartland. I wear an apron and bake. I wash the dishes with the window open, with the sun on my face. When I get time, I knit on the porch where I can watch the cows.

The men work in the fields and the children play in the barn. I married a real cowboy. He is strong and manly. I feel safe with him. He loves me deeply and writes songs on his guitar about our love.

In the morning I have chores such as milking the cows and collecting eggs. My cowboy takes care of the harder chores around the farm.

In the evenings we go to the local dive where we play darts with the rest of the locals. We are all friends, we grew up together. We sing and dance to the music on the jukebox.

But my favorite thing to do is ride. I jump on my horse and go. My horse and I know everything there is to know about each.other. We ride all over the county. I can clear my mind and only think about the wind blowing through her mane and mine. I love her and she is part of our family. The children adore her, but it is clear that she is mine.

I wonder how much riding lessons are...
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Saturday, November 13, 2010

Intelligent Design: Clearly Lacking Intelligence

First off I want you to know that evolutionary biologists are not Nazis. Also I might point out at the onset that Hitler was Christian.

Okay, some more general information. I watch a lot of documentaries. Good documentaries, like good papers, first explain your position and continue throughout to present evidence supporting your theory.

Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed is poorly done. At no point does it explain what intelligent design (ID) is or any evidence supporting the theory. It rags on Darwinism saying there is no evidence supporting it, which we all know is just plain false.

I worked with this Catholic guy and we were arguing about whether global warming exists or not. He kept asking me for hard proof linking emissions to the rise in global temperatures. I pointed out that for a religious man he sure did need a lot of proof to believe something. He asked if I was implying that there was no evidence of god. I was indeed and he said the proof was the bible. In that case my proof is a docu made by a former vice president.

This movie begins with all of these stories of scientists being fired for mentioning ID. Oh, and stating quite clearly that ID is not creationism, which is bullshit in my opinion, but moving on.

Another fact that I must point out is how scientists get paid. You have a hypothesis and you go around to different foundations presenting your idea and experimental design and hopefully they give you a grant. Many times they ask for progress reports, and you must submit them if you want to continue to get paid. Here is the kicker: you cannot just study anything. You need someone to finance your research so if one day you decide that you want to research ID, expect that you are not going to be funded. And its nothing unusual to be underfunded. I worked on a devastating disease that we are having a hard time getting funding for.

Next the movie goes onto explain how unlikely that the proper molecules were arranged perfectly to form a living cell. I think they missed the point that the universe is fucking huge and surely the process had many years to get it right. This has never been repeated in a lab setting. Duh. We have no idea what the proper conditions were. Darwin believed that the first cell was very very simple, but ID people argue that cells are very complex therefore he was wrong. I don't understand their position at all. Not every cell on earth is complex. Some are quite simple.

Evolutionists suggested that the first cell may have occurred on the back of a crystal because they have high rates of mutations. Or Frances Crick theorized DNA was "seeded", meaning aliens? Stein can't believe that real science would consider a crystal theory or aliens. Yet apparently god is a better explanation?

ID is saying that evolution is very unlikely but they don't address how unlikely their theory is.

"Science is not a democracy" - no kidding. "It's only a theory" - as is gravity. As is relativity. As is most things. They kept saying "Darwinists don't know how everything works." Well we don't know how lots of things work. Our brain for example.

Stein asks the question "what do other countries do?" So like a good fair unbiased person would do, he went to Poland. Yup, Poland. And only Poland. And only spoke to one Polish person.

Finally after subtly hinting at the relationship between Darwinists and Nazis they finally came out and said they are practically one in the same. Here is where I want you to remember that Hitler was christian, not atheist. Eugenics was explained in evolutionary terms. Did you know that planned parenthood was just a big conspiracy to give contraception to the poor and underprivaledged so they don't reproduce. I think they are failing in their mission.

"Will eradicating religion lead to utopia?" Well, I don't know about utopia but I'm sure it would be a better place.
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Thursday, November 11, 2010

Confession #371

I am doing 2.) What are your confessions? (inspired by Usher)  You might think that this is sorta a cop-out but it is not!  I swear!


Tabatha is doing this 30 questions a day for the month.  


Day 09 → Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.


I have a few of these so I'm only gonna talk about two people.  I'll tell you about the rest another day.


When I was in high school I had three really good friends.  One went away fairly quickly and that is a story itself, but the other two were friends into college (S and M).


I went to college comparatively closer to home than either of them did.  The first thing that really started to get to me was that M would come home and not tell me until after the fact.  I kept insisting that she tell me because I'd gladly drive up.  I was always the driver when we were in high school and I maintained that roll in college.  I drove out to western New Hampshire to visit S and Boston to visit M.  I did this fairly often.  Needless to say I think they only visited me once.


We all smoked together in high school, but when we went off to college, I started smoking more (and drinking more) and they turned away from drugs and stuck with the alcohol.  So, I guessed that part of the reason they didn't visit me was because they didn't want to hang out with me and my stoner friends.


Then I met the ex.  A couple of months later my friends, S and M, staged a kind of intervention for me.  They said that they thought he was all wrong for me.  That he did too many drugs (no comments from the peanut gallery.)  I didn't understand because I did just as much as he did.  I felt it would be terribly hypocritical to say that he did too much when I was using the same amount.


I started seeing and hearing from S and M less and less.  I thought it was a combination of them disliking my boyfriend and them going clubbing looking for men, which I had no interest in doing.  I married in Denver, but had a reception back in Maine.  They were both invited (along with others) and no one RSVP'ed.  No lame excuse, no we hate you, no nothing.  I decided I hated them all.


I didn't talk to any of them for a while.  I moved back to Maine and saw S in the store.  She seemed honestly excited to see me.  We exchanged phone numbers and promised to get together.  I was excited.  I called her a few times, left voicemails, but none of them were ever returned.  So I gave up.


I joined good ol' Facebook.  I asked to be friends with both girls.  They both "accepted" and because I do not friend people just to make myself feel popular, I messaged both of them saying hi, how are you, that type of thing.  Guess what?  No response.  Zero.  


It makes me sad.  I really really loved S - M a little less.  I  have spoken to other people from that time - even S's sister.  But neither of them.  I don't really know what made us drift so far.  It could've been their dislike of my ex or the drugs, but honestly I don't think so.  Perhaps they just live such different lives and have so many new people in their lives that I just don't fit into it anymore.  Or maybe they stopped liking me.  Whatever the reason, it is what it is, but if either of them emailed me today and wanted to hang out, I would drop everything.







Mama's Losin' It

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

An Epic Post

Do you even know what the word epic means??


adjective Also, ep·i·cal.
noting or pertaining to a long poetic composition, usually centered upon a hero, in which a series of great achievements or events is narrated in elevated style:Homer's Iliad is an epic poem.



So the use of the word epic should always pertain or resemble this type of literature.  So, if you are a damsel in distress and a prince slays a dragon and comes to get you, then you write a blog on the whole thing, then you are allowed to use the word epic to describe said story.

If you ate a pretty big breakfast, they you are not allowed to call it epic.  Period.

Heres what our Urban Dictionary folks say about it:


the most overused word ever, next to fail. for even more asshole points, use them together to form "epic fail." everything is epic now. epic car. epic haircut. epic movie. epic album. epic shut the fuck up. saying "epic win" doesn't make you sound any better, either. and for fucks sake, don't ever say it in person.

So even the folks over there the word is totally obnoxious.  Your haircut cannot be epic.  Maybe if a hero swooped in and gave you that much desired haircut and then you write a poem - you know what?  No.  Don't even use it in that circumstance.  

Okay so I will agree that epic can be used to describe a movie.  Although not a movie such as Land of the Lost or Love Affair or any of the Saw movies.  Beowulf is obviously an epic movie as is Lord of the Rings.

Now I am sure that 90% of my Loyal Readers use the word "epic" daily.  And I certainly don't want anyone to stop cold turkey - god how that never works....  And I have to admit I, myself, have called things epic fails.  I think what really bothers me about the word is it's sudden prevalence in everyone's vernacular.  I know it is just a fad word like, um, well, probably fail, and I am sure that it will fade away like other fad words.  I'm just hoping that is sooner than later.








Sunday, November 7, 2010

Future Smuture

I think I have mentioned before how when I was in first grade I would look up at the third graders and think how I would never be that big. How I just assumed that I would die before then just because it didn't seem possible. I didn't know until recently that that was depression. I just thought it was how it was.

I think this is the same reason I have made a lot of decisions in my life. Why I was so willy-nilly about college - because I couldn't picture myself going then graduating so I just thought I'd die or something before then. I only applied to one school and didn't really care if I got in or not. I picked a major without really thinking about it. I graduated with a decent gpa but not because I worked hard. I never really thought about getting a job after graduation. I think because I never believed I'd live that long.

I think that is why I'm so unmotivated all the time. I don't want to go to school, I don't really care enough to look for a new job, I'm gonna live in this shitty apartment forever.

I can't even get excited for Greece next summer because it is just too far away. I couldn't even talk about February because who knows what will happen before then.

My therapist urges me to remember to take my antidepressants. I dunno. I think who cares if I plan or not, but then that is probably what got me into the messes I've been in. Marriage? Sure, why not? Tomorrow? Sure, fuck it.

And if I plan things, there is the danger of looking forward to it and therefore the danger of being disappointed. And who wants to be disappointed, right?
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Thursday, November 4, 2010

Being Gonzo

While I was growing up, I was always considered "weird." I heard it all the time. I don't know why, though. Maybe it was because I watched MST 3K and the Twilight Zone. Or maybe because I read King and Koontz. Maybe because I didn't like New Kids On The Block or 90210. Or maybe because I wanted much more than this provincial life. Or maybe it was my big blue nose?




I always identified with Gonzo. Everyone called him weird and he felt like he didn't belong. He did things differently. He didn't know where he was from or who he was or what he was. He always felt like an outsider and I did too.




As I grew old though, I felt a kinship to Camilla the Chicken. Camilla was fairly normal, being a chicken and all, yet Gonzo loved her. They didn't care that they were so much different from each other. Camilla was generally quiet, just a squawck here or there, but when she had something important to say she spoke up. No one understood her like Gonzo and no one understood Gonzo like Camilla.


The Wishing Song
sung by Gonzo

I wish I had a coat of silk, the color of the sky.
I wish I had a lady fair, and then a butterfly
I wish I had a house of stone that looked down on the sea
But most of all I wish that I was someone else but me.


(Madeleine cheers up Gonzo)

Now I don't have a coat of silk, but I still have the sky
Now I don't have a lady, but there goes a butterfly
Now I don't have a house of stone, but I can see the sea
Now most of all I know that I am happy to be me.
I'm happy to be me.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Halloween Costume!

I didn't so much make this costume as put it together. I'm loving it though so I wanted to share it.



PhotobucketPhotobucket
Photobucket


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Sunday, October 24, 2010

Good Friends

There is nothing like good friends. No matter if you haven't seen them in a long time or ever, when you do see them or talk to them its like you'd never been apart.

It was like this a few weeks ago when Mel came down and when I went to see Kirsten in Denver and just now when I spoke to Denisse. Nothing compares to connecting with good friends <3

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Friday, October 22, 2010

Coloring Outside the Lines

One of the biggest challenges I have faced as a parent is learning that there is not only one way to do things.  Train tracks do not have to form a figure eight, peanut butter can be eaten straight from the jar, you don't have to color in the lines.

We went to a Halloween party where he had some stickers to decorate pumpkins to make them look carved.  If I had done it I would've made them look how they are 'supposed' to look.  The way he did it, however, was way cooler.  One looked extra nervous, one looked extra dopey.

It's hard because I grew up where everything had a right way and a wrong way.  I was always taught there was one way to load the dishwasher.  The one way that maximized the number of dishes while maximizing the effectiveness of the wash.  When I was married, I used to scold the ex for putting the dishes in wrong.  Until one day he stopped doing it because he always did it "wrong".  I realized I was the wrong one.

I grew up with a couple of family members who suffer from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.  When you grow up like that you believe that is normal.

Its hard trying to keep a balance between teaching him how things work and allowing him to play however he chooses.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

What's Next

Ryder's new favorite question:  "What's next, MumMum?"

What's next?  God, if I only knew.

I always know what is next for him.  Brushing your teeth, taking a walk, having dinner, playing with trains.  But what is next for me?

My next is probably the same thing as yesterday.  Go to work, pick him up, make dinner, play some video games.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  I want a different next.  I feel like there is a world of possibilities, yet only a few.

What is life going to sling my way?  What is next?

Friday, October 15, 2010

Drugs, Cancer, and Some Other Third Thing That Kills You

My uncle died.

The service is tomorrow and I am not going.

--------

Drugs cause many problems.  I know they do. But they do not cause all problems.

When I smoked, my mom would blame everything on the cigarettes.  If I stubbed my toe, it was because I smoked.

---------

My uncle was an IV drug user.  But that is not what killed him.  He had a brain tumor.  The cancer was most likely not caused by the drugs he injected.  As far as I am aware, Ted Kennedy wasn't a junkie.  But none of this matters.  Even if, and I am not suggesting that this is the case, he had only shot up once, it would be one too many times for my mom.  For the remainder of his short life he was just a junkie.

Saturday, October 2, 2010

Learning About Life at the Playground

I ventured out on this beautiful October morning and I learned some stuff.

While we were at the playground I really got to observe different parenting styles.  There was the inattentive parent whose child could be jumping into a well and wouldn't notice.  There was the overly attentive parent who equally annoyed me.  This parent had two children.  The older of the two went down the fireman's pole and apparently hit his knee or something lame.  The mom went over and helped her poor injured son hobble over to the bench.  Then the younger, and braver, daughter wanted to go down the pole.  Holy crap.  Unacceptable.  The kid was asking if she could please do it herself, but the mother wouldn't have any of it.  The exact same pole I let my three year old go down minutes prior.

Which brings me to a third type of parent, who I think I fit into, the laid-back but encouraging type.  There was this man with his 2 year old son and he was letting him go down the aforementioned pole, almost by himself.  One of the times the kid did hit his face or something, but when the father didn't make a big deal out of it, neither did he.  I like to think I am like this.  Encouraging him to do things that are challenging and then kinda steam-rolling over falls.  This does backfire, on occasion, though, when I insist that he is fine, then a few minutes later I notice he is hemorrhaging.  Oops.

Then there was the highly interactive parent, playing tag with his kids.  That was really cute.  I strive to do this more.

All of these observations made me think of my parents.  They were all "You can't do it?  Well, I guess you can't do it."  When I couldn't do the monkey bars my mom said that, well, she didn't have any upper body strength either.  So that was that.  I never learned the monkey bars.  I don't think they were over protective, I think that their philosophy was that you are born to be able to do X and not Y so why bother with Y?  Even more recently my dad told my friend that I was afraid of bridges and heights.  I said "No I'm not!"  "Well there was that bridge that you would never go over."  "Yeah, that was a long time ago.  I've gotten over it."  Like if you are afraid of heights, you are afraid of heights and that is it.  I want to always try to help Ryder overcome his fears by showing him that there is nothing to be afraid of.

I should be making a list.

Thursday, September 30, 2010

In Which the Teach is a Bitch

School always caused this great dichotomy:  I hated school, but I was really good at it.  I always had panic attacks when I didn't understand something, which may have led to the hating bit.  But I always took the honors classes, I scored 790 on my math, I was in the top 5%, I dropped calculus because it was dumb.  I preferred the band room, though I was no good at that.

Senior year came around, and I, like many of my other classmates, started the slide into home.  The only real thing I had to accomplish that semester, besides finding a college, was to pass senior English.  No problem, right?

Enter Mrs. Lambert.  All the girls loooovvveeeddd her.  She would giggle with the giggly girls and share make-up tips.  Teacher's pets doesn't even begin to describe this disgusting atrocity.  Anyways, clearly I was not included in this group.  I wasn't a girly-girl.  I didn't even like most girls.  Even most of my girl friends I wasn't terribly fond of.

I started doing very poorly in the class.  I started getting failing marks on my papers.  I could not fail that class.  I needed that class.  I tried and tried and I wasn't doing any better.  One fateful day I decided that I had to stay after class and ask teach exactly what I was doing wrong and how I could fix it.

I believe the girly-girls were still there.  I went up to her desk with my paper in hand and asked what I did wrong and how I can do better next time.

"You are a smart girl, you can figure it out."

"Obviously I cannot figure it out.  I keep getting bad grades, could you just help me out?"

"No, you are smart, just figure it out yourself."

This exchange carried on for what seemed like millenia.  It was probably only a few minutes.  It ended when I started crying.  I grabbed my things, heard the girly whispering, and ran to the bathroom and cried.  I don't like to ask for help.  I like figuring things out for myself, but sometimes I do need help and when I asked for that help I could not get it.

Mrs. Lambert disappointed me.

I did end up passing the class, but barely.


Mama's Losin' It

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

So Very Many Causes

Okay, so should I give you specifics or ask a general question?  What fun would it be without details, right?

It started with this:  Allow Lauren to Stay in College  Basically it is the woman from Love Bomb who needs money to stay in school.  Specifically $4,000.  The link does not state the exact circumstances, assuming there is more than there appears, but it looks like she just doesn't want to work full time and go to school.

People seem to really like her and I really like what Love Bomb does.  (I don't really think it is a non-profit organization, but it is great, nonetheless.)  I posed a question in the forum asking why her?  Why is she so special that she doesn't have to work and go to school?  Why doesn't she just get loans like the rest of us?  Or perhaps only go to school part time?  I expected hate mail and I unfortunately thankfully did not get any.  I did get one person to post some really good answers and as I respect that person's opinion, I disagree.

There are so very many people in need and this is the first time in my life that I have been in a position to donate anything, even if it is a little.

So here is my question for you:  How do you decide who or what cause to donate to? 

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Sleeping and Driving

I was reading this post on Blogher today and it was too appropriate.

I have fallen asleep at the wheel before.  We were driving across country and I was told that we would be home for Christmas, even if it meant leaving me.  So despite my exhaustion, I drove on.  And fell asleep.  My sister woke me up just in time, thankfully, but it was really scary.  I really didn't give two shits whether we got home for Christmas or not at that point.  I was sleeping, if that meant them leaving me, so be it.  Everyone was angry.

That was the worst of it.  When I was commuting from Maine to school in New Hampshire to my work in a different part of New Hampshire and back to Maine everyday I got very tired while driving.  I used to pull off to the side of the road almost daily for a quick 20 minute power nap.  It was enough to get me to where I was going.

Sunday was something else, though.  I was very tired and Ryder was asleep in the car.  I was literally drifting off so I took the next exit and began looking for the Dunkin Donuts that was promised by a sign.  I might have just been too out of it to find it, but I circled the rotary three times before getting off at a random exit.  I drove, but could not find the shop.  I decided I could not drive any further.  I parked in a nice residential area on the side of the road, but not directly in front of any one house.  I locked my doors and fell right to sleep.

I think I was asleep for 20-ish minutes when this man knocked on my window.  I put the window down and the man was saying "You need to be careful!  You have a child in the car!  Police come around here - you really need to be careful."  I said that I knew, but I was just so tired. He said "You are lucky it is just me.  The police could have come by and, geez, you have a kid in the car.  You really need to be careful.  Are you okay?"  I said I was, just very tired.  He then asked me for a ride which I said no to.  He continued saying the same things then started to walk off.  When he was a ways off, I zipped out of there.

I didn't know what had just happened.  I was tired confused and now scared.  Had I been doing something wrong?  Did I put my child at risk?  What were my alternatives?  I cried the whole ride home.  I was so very confused.  I am not sure what that man thought I was doing in the car, but I am certain that I was not.

If confronted with the same situation again, I am pretty sure that I will do things exactly the same.

Monday, September 27, 2010

Bitchin'

I don't know if I can do this any more.

Today has been one panic attack after another - or have they all been part of one big one?

My pain is so much worse and I am out of Vicodin.

I get anxiety induced nausea and it was the worst ever this morning when I was in the bathroom, seconds from vomiting and the only thing I could think of was that I cannot puke up my last Vicodin.

Work was terrible for all these reasons plus it was shitty in it's own way.  I do not take to being yelled at lightly.  That woman is fucking lucky she is old, just sayin'.

I am exhausted.  Like Mono exhausted.  It is insane.

I am petrified of surgery Wednesday.  So very scared.  You would think I'd be less scared than last time, now I know what to expect and it is less invasive, but no, I am fucking petrified.

I don't know what to do about Ryder.  He is so tired when he comes home, now that he's back in school.  So tired and so miserable and so am I.

I don't like complaining.  I don't like hearing myself complain.  Writing it down makes me feel better.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

Damn Feelings

Sometimes I go weeks without even a passing thought about him.  Then there are times when someone says something, or I look at Ryder a certain way and it reminds me of his father.

I try to be nonchalant about it, like I am totally cool with talking about him.  Like, whatever, he's in the past, I don't care.  But secretly it hurts.

It is hard to describe the feeling.  I obviously still love him, somewhere deep deep deep where I can't see it, but I OBVIOUSLY never want to see him again.  Not even for a moment.  Honestly, the prospect of seeing him scares me.  He is very manipulative.  I never want to doubt myself again.

I guess the feeling I get is nostalgia.  I miss what we had.  I am sad that it didn't work out.

I was always afraid of the label "divorcĂ©e" but seriously, I love saying "My ex-husband."  It makes me feel like Elizabeth Taylor or something.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Versatility

Has it really been a week?  And I haven't participated in any carnivals in millennia.  Anyways, a ton of things are happening or have happened and I will no doubt tell you over time.

Meanwhile, in bloggy land, Mel gave me this super sweet award:


So, I am supposed to tell you seven things about myself.  Not sure that there are that many things that I have yet to tell you, but here we go.


  1. I have to go back to the operating room.  Nothing major, but hopefully it will end my pain.
  2. I just got a passport for the first time in my life.  It's really exciting!
  3. I was considering getting Clear since my stolen internet isn't wicked reliable, but I'm not going to.  I was informed that Fios is better. I'll see how badly I want to pay for internet.
  4. I am wicked unobservant and have a terrible memory.  
  5. Being the best place to be for Halloween you would think that Salem would be the best place to buy a costume.  It is not.  Unless you want to be a witch or a pirate.
  6. I have always wanted a marketable skill.  I can knit, but I think the time put into it doesn't really equal the profits.  I started carving my own stamps, but I am still trying to figure out what I can do with that skill.
  7. I think I am a supertaster.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Beethoven and Panic Attacks

A lot of people have never had panic attacks, and if you have never had one, it is extremely difficult to understand them.  Something happens inside my mind that I have never been able to describe.  I have often tried to explain it as my thoughts get physically bloated, somehow.  See, that makes no sense.

I was listening to Radiolab, and they were discussing time.  It was fascinating.  To begin and close the program they play excerpts from Beethoven's ninth symphony stretched to 24 hours.  At first I thought it was relaxing, just these beautiful long notes, but then the music starts building.  You are waiting for the climax, waiting, waiting.  Time slows way down while you are waiting for the music to just go over the top of the mountain.  The anticipation kills you.  The music builds and almost physically gets fatter.  You just need the music to climax so that you can relax again and enjoy the notes.  But it takes forever.

This is sorta what my panic attacks feel like.

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Conversations With a Toddler Part 3

Ryder:  I'm hungry.

Me:  I know.  I ordered pizza, it's gonna be delivered.

Ryder:  On a mail truck?

Me:  Yeah, I mean, sorta.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Let's Not Burn the Qur'an

Got time to send this guy a quick email?  Apparently he is planning on burning the Qur'an on 9/11.  He has been getting death threats from around the world and has taken to carrying a gun.  A US General has asked the church not to do this because it could spark world violence.  I sent him a quick email here.  Here is what I said:

I know that many people are urging you not to burn the Qur'an, but I'd like to let you know that I, too, urge you not to.

I am an atheist, but I still respect other people's holy texts. I would no more support burning the Qur'an than support burning the bible. I see that as one in the same. I understand that you do not, but I would just like you to think about what you would do if the Muslim community took to burning bibles.

I know that many people have killed in the name of Allah, but need I remind you how many have killed in the name of Christ? I sincerely hope you reconsider your plans.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

I Cry

I cry because I am depressed.
I cry because I am having a panic attack.
I cry because I am in pain.
I cry because I do not know what is causing that pain.
I cry because I have not taken pain killers because my mom makes me feel like a drug addict when I do.
I cry because I had surgery that fixed nothing.
I cry because I am going to have my IUD out.
I cry because I never got to use it.
I cry because I am afraid.
I cry because doctors don't seem to understand pain.
I cry because I do not explain my pain properly.
I cry because I am tired.
I cry because I am missing work.
I cry because I have to work.
I cry because I hate my life.
I cry because I have no good reason to hate my life.
I cry because I don't even have any real problems, yet they seem overwhelming.
I cry because I feel weak.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

Back Home

Hi my lovelies.

Thanks for all the well wishes!  They are all much appreciated.  It's really nice to see how much help I can get when I need it.  I feel blessed.

The surgery was fine.  They cyst had apparently resolved itself and that makes me feel really dumb.  I mean, I know I wasn't faking being in pain and there was really a cyst there, I just feel dumb all the same.  It is what it is. Some stuff was sent off to the lab, though, just to check things out.

So, I'm just chillaxing, reading, watching some tv, and playing on facebook for a few days.  Hopefully I will be fully recovered so that I can do the 13.1 mile Jimmy Fund Walk next weekend.  But I won't push it.

And in case you were worried about any TMI I won't be taking pictures of my scars.  ;)

Oh, and thanks so much to Mel - she is too sweet!

Monday, August 30, 2010

Meetings? Blah.

"Sorry, I was in a meeting" sounds so much more impressive than "Sorry, I was setting up a PCR" even if the latter is way more work.  Even "I am running a PCR" is more impressive than "I am setting up a PCR."

For my non-science-geek friends "running" a PCR pretty much means that you put a few tubes into a machine and pressed start.  Then the machine runs for like 2 hours (for what I do.)  Setting up the PCR, though, can take way longer.  This is when you figure out how much of each, err, stuff you put into the aforementioned tubes.  Being very careful not to contaminate anything and watching your concentrations.  Anyways, you get my point.  Though running is easier it sounds better.

I guess what it comes down to, as many things in science does, is PhDs and grunts.  (For my purposes I will lump all interns, techs, and grad students in the grunts category.)  Basically the PhDs form a hypothesis and design the experiment.  The grunts actually carry out the experiment and many times analyze the results and maybe even make a poster or two.  The PhDs then write a paper on all the work "they" did and get the credit.  Although, to be fair, our names do appear on the publications.

So I guess that is what makes meetings more impressive than actual work.  In meetings you are busy thinking and shit while those who are not smart enough to do all this thinking are working.  I suppose it is similar to the business man who is meeting with clients over drinks while his maid is cleaning his house.

What I need to remember is I make more money than many of them and went to school a whole lot less.  So who's the smart one now??

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Seven-Six-Two Millimeter

Sometimes things remind me of the ex and it really catches me off guard..  I've finally gotten to the point that I do not think of him daily (took years) so when things remind me of him it shocks me a bit.  Though, I suppose it shouldn't.  I spent around a third of my life with him.  And I will spend the rest of my life with a piece of him.

I generally don't watch movies more than once.  I generally don't read books more than once.  There are so many movies and books in the world, who has time to reread or rewatch?  There were a few movies, though, that the ex and I enjoyed together - Super Troopers, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, and Full Metal Jacket.  We would use quotes from these movies in our everyday vernacular, as I have mentioned before.

I just finished watching Full Metal Jacket.  I had forgotten that there are so many quotes that the ex, in particular, used frequently.  "I'm in a world of shit."  "I didn't know they stacked shit so high."  "I bet you're the kind of guy that would fuck a person in the ass and not even have the goddamn common courtesy to give him a reach-around."  "numb-nuts"  "What is your major malfunction, numb-nuts?"

Okay, so while I am compiling these quotes I can't help but notice the vulgarity.  It is what it is.

So I wonder, do other people use these phrases?  These are classics, right?

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Let's Drop A Love Bomb!


Hey guys, got a few minutes to improve the life of one person today?  I bet you do.  Let's do this together.

Every week Drop A Love Bomb sends out a mission and our job is to leave a comment on a person's blog who really needs it.  No need to leave a comment here - send your love over to that person.  Here is this week's mission:


Love Bomb Mission: Rachel, 17. Loss of dad, eating disorders and depression.
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Note: We are now partnering with bloggers for missions! This week's partners: StarbucksBreak.com,YoursTrulyTrayce.com , LoveChelseaLauren, ProneToWander, TheBeesKnees, Collection-Of-Things,PostWithTheMost, InspiredMess, TrueConfessionsOfASingleMother, MrsMuffins, TallAsGrass, DoGoodMore,BelleChantelle, DevilishDelish, BuckOwensGuitar, ABCCreativity, BriannaPoster, AmySoto.blogspot.com, and LaurenNicoleLove.
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Hey Love Bomb family!
We are dropping today's Love Bomb on a 17 year old girl named Rachel.
She lost her dad and ever since has dealt with eating disorders, and is struggling through life without him. Her mom avoids serious conversations with her and she is afraid to get help. She's in counseling, which is wonderful - but we all know how irreplaceable personal words of encouragement are.
In one of her recent posts, she bullet-pointed a list of things she had to show for nearly being 18:
- I drink too much
- I have social anxiety
- I'm failing school
- I'm ugly
- I'm fat
- I can't even get the courage to meet my own sister
- I lack the energy to even fake happiness
- I have recurring thoughts of self-harm
- I keep relapsing into "disordered eating behaviours"
In her last post, the one we'll be commenting on, she ends with,
"What I need is some inspiration. I need someone I admire to tell me every thing's going to be alright. That they believe in me. That I'm not the fat failure I think I am. - unfortunately I can't see that happening any time before it's too late, if it's not already too late."
Alright guys. You know what to do. We ARE Rachel's inspiration, encouragement, love, and support. It's time to tell her how beautiful and valuable she is. I want to blow her away.
To comment on her blog, go here: whatyouneverknewaboutme.blogspot.com
Time to drop a Love Bomb, friends!
Lauren
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