I've never had a female roommate besides my sister.
I've never had to deal with liking the same boy or being the same age or, generally, hanging out with the same friends, all while living in the same place. My sister and I have always just had sister issues, like fighting over the hair-dryer or trying to convince mom that we're the one who's right in the argument.
However, in the past two weeks, my world had come crashing down with the things that I've never had actually happening to me.
I met my current roommate back in March, during all the commotion of the Humans vs. Zombies game. She and I were both moderators and we both happened to be looking for a roommate around the same general time period. We've spent the past couple of months getting to know one another as we prepared to move in together at the end of May. And, in those months, we discovered we had a lot in common.
The primary thing that we both had in common was, of course, that we both were crushing on the same guy: the head moderator of the HvZ game. I knew that she liked him long before I had even met him so I did my best to stay away, only keeping a friend attachment. However, over the past few months, he and I have grown closer and I have been unable to keep those feelings as just friends. I was upfront and honest with her from the beginning about my feelings and I actively tried to pursue other guys in the hope that the feelings would go away. However, despite my best efforts, nothing has worked.
Last Wednesday, my roommate confronted me, asking me again for the zillionth time if I had feelings for the guy. When I said yes, she followed it up with the inquiry if I thought anything might happen. If she had asked me months ago, I would have said no. However, now, that's not quite the case. When I said that it was possible, she did something completely unexpected -- she stopped speaking to me. Not only that, but she hid in her bedroom, only coming out when I wasn't around.
I have been tormented with this, trying to figure out if I'm in the wrong or the right for telling her the truth as I knew it to be. On one hand, I did try extremely hard to do good by her and not like the guy; on the other hand, it's not a crime to have feelings for someone. Last Friday, I confronted her and ended up in tears after she told me that I was one of the worst things that had ever happened in her life. She has made it so that it is a crime for me to feel anything about this; feeling bad because I know that I hurt her is completely out of the question. I'm just supposed to be the monster who committed all of these crimes...
All I know is that I just want all of this fixed. Walking on egg-shells like this is no way to live. I'm tired of her hiding from me in her room... and I cant believe that it's been a full week since she really spoke to me. A full week when all that she has done has hid from me, hoping that we wont see one another.
Having a roommate is HARD in all of this silence.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Monday, July 12, 2010
It's Been A While...
But Internet, I have returned.
The past couple months have been rough ones for me. Dealing with the break-up, dealing with the after-math of the break-up, dealing with school and the end of the school year... And then, of course, there was this semester's version of Humans vs. Zombies, which I helped to run...
And now it's summer. I've been in and out of jobs, doing the college student thing, living off of mac and cheese, top ramen, and pepsi. My amazing grandparents gave me a chunk of money that's currently helping me live.
And then, of course, I got a job editing.
I couldn't believe it when I found it. A lady just needing her PhD dissertation edited. A lady who was willing to pay me several hundred to edit said dissertation. Do I want to have this kind of job every month in order to pay my bills? HECK YES. Despite the large amount of work, it's a job I know I'm good at.
So, Internet, that's all I've really been up to. Editing is taking up part of my day, my friends take up the other part. I'm here, I'm living, I'm eating, I'm breathing, I'm loving life. I'm planning for trips that I'll be taking in the future (one to Vegas at the end of August to visit my best friend and one to LA in November with all of my friends in order to go to a convention). And I'm getting ready to go back to Chico State in the fall.
I cant wait for school to start.
Catch you soon, Internet.
The past couple months have been rough ones for me. Dealing with the break-up, dealing with the after-math of the break-up, dealing with school and the end of the school year... And then, of course, there was this semester's version of Humans vs. Zombies, which I helped to run...
And now it's summer. I've been in and out of jobs, doing the college student thing, living off of mac and cheese, top ramen, and pepsi. My amazing grandparents gave me a chunk of money that's currently helping me live.
And then, of course, I got a job editing.
I couldn't believe it when I found it. A lady just needing her PhD dissertation edited. A lady who was willing to pay me several hundred to edit said dissertation. Do I want to have this kind of job every month in order to pay my bills? HECK YES. Despite the large amount of work, it's a job I know I'm good at.
So, Internet, that's all I've really been up to. Editing is taking up part of my day, my friends take up the other part. I'm here, I'm living, I'm eating, I'm breathing, I'm loving life. I'm planning for trips that I'll be taking in the future (one to Vegas at the end of August to visit my best friend and one to LA in November with all of my friends in order to go to a convention). And I'm getting ready to go back to Chico State in the fall.
I cant wait for school to start.
Catch you soon, Internet.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Changes
Last week, the boyfriend and I split up for good. We didn't have a fight. Nor are we angry with one another. We just weren't right for each other. So, in the midst of all of the craziness and lonelyness that I've been dealing with the past couple of weeks, I've made a decision.
I'm making some changes to this blog.
I thought about stopping the blog entirely, because writing about my life is just too difficult right now. But then I thought that I could put some of my writing on here. I don't want to kill this blog entirely. Just make my life a little less prominent in it.
So here's what I'm going to do: every day of the week is going to have a different theme.
Monday: Journaling Day
Tuesday: Short Story Day
Wednesday: Photo Day
Thursday: Poem Day
Friday: Journaling Day
Hopefully this will help me right now in the midst of all that I'm going through. It'll all begin on Monday.
Keep me in your prayers.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Obesity Affects All
I'm starving my gecko.
Before you call animal control and get all animal rights crazy on me, let me explain.
Esther is fat. She is a really fat gecko. I mentioned this several months ago, I know, when the boyfriend and I decided to take her to the vet to get her a check up and he made us very aware of how fat she was. We started feeding her less, we exercised her a little more, but nothing really helped. She stayed ridiculously obese.
Then, about two weeks ago, Esther stopped eating completely. I wasn't too worried at first, because adult leopard geckos don't eat all that often. However, after about a week of her refusing food and her stomach becoming unusually bloated, I decided to take her to some reptile specialists to see if we could figure out what exactly was wrong with her.
This is where her obesity comes in.
Without giving anyone too many gruesome details of the reptile visit, it turns out that Esther is so fat that her kidneys have begun to fail. She hadn't been able to go to the bathroom and her little tummy had gotten so full that she was refusing food because she couldn't fit anything else inside of her. Who knew that geckos could have the same kind of organ problems as humans do? Also, it appears that there's a little unfertilized egg in her belly as well, which means she'll probably be popping out a little egg in the next week or so.
The reptile specialists instructed me to let Esther survive off her own fat for another week and then to begin feeding her the bare minimum so that she could slim down. She also has been exercised a lot more. Poor thing... if she doesn't start slimming down now, she's going to start having even more problems. But they told me that over-feeding her is better than under-feeding her, so I shouldn't feel too bad. They said they don't usually see many fat geckos like Esther because people usually don't take that good of care of their lizards, especially college students, which really makes me frustrated because students shouldn't get a pet if they're not going to be responsible about it.
So here's Esther as of today. She's still quite chubby but we're hoping that she'll begin losing weight soon so that her organs will go back to being normal. I can guarantee that she's not supposed to be this fat... but at least she can still pick her little belly up off the ground.
If you have any questions, feel free to ask.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Inspiring
I know I have not posted for about a week. This is for a number of reasons. First, I have been trying to get used to the medication that I'm on. The nausea and insomnia have gone away but have been replaced with me getting tired a little more easily, so I have to try to get as much sleep as possible. Second, I'm not quite sure what to say about my situation. I'm going to therapy, I'm taking depression medication, and the people who are close to me in my life reacted both positively and negatively to this. One of my best friends strongly disapproves of my actions, which really only makes this harder. My other best friend is supportive as she can be while living hundreds of miles away.
But I'm tired of talking about my situation.
Today, I want to post something that very much touched my heart when I read it. I've been taking a class on C.S. Lewis and Tolkien at the college and this week we read from Lewis' Mere Christianity. I've been interested in reading this for quite a while because of Lewis' beginnings as an atheist and I've been curious to know why it is that Lewis decided to convert to Christianity.
One passage particularly struck me today as I was answering some questions for a homework assignment and I thought I would share it with all of you. This exerpt is from the very end of Chapter One.
"And, of course, that raises a very big question. If a good God made the world why has it gone wrong? And for many years I simply refused to listen to the Christian answers to this question, because I kept on feeling 'whatever you say, and however clever your arguments are, isn't it much simpler and easier to say that the world was not made by any intelligent power? Aren't all your arguments simply a complicated attempted to avoid the obvious?' But then that threw me back into another difficulty.
"My argument against God was that the universe seemed so cruel and unjust. But how had I got this idea of just and unjust? A man does not call a line crooked unless he has some idea of a straight line. What was I comparing this universe with when I called it unjust? If the whole show was bad and senseless from A to Z, so to speak, why did I, who was supposed to be part of the show, find myself in such violent reaction against it? A man feels wet when he falls into water, because man is not a water animal: a fish would not feel wet. Of course I could have given up my idea of justice by saying it was nothing but a private idea of my own. But if I did that, then my argument against God collapsed too - for the argument depended on saying that the world was really unjust, not simply that it did not happen to please my fantasies. Thus in the very act of trying to prove that God did not exist - in other words, that the whole of reality was senseless - I found I was force to assume that one part of reality - namely my idea of justice - was full of sense. Consequently atheism turns out to be too simple. If the whole universe has no meaning, we should never have found out that it has no meaning: just as, if there were no light in the universe and therefore no creatures with eyes, we should never know it was dark. Dark would be a word without meaning."
But I'm tired of talking about my situation.
Today, I want to post something that very much touched my heart when I read it. I've been taking a class on C.S. Lewis and Tolkien at the college and this week we read from Lewis' Mere Christianity. I've been interested in reading this for quite a while because of Lewis' beginnings as an atheist and I've been curious to know why it is that Lewis decided to convert to Christianity.
One passage particularly struck me today as I was answering some questions for a homework assignment and I thought I would share it with all of you. This exerpt is from the very end of Chapter One.
"And, of course, that raises a very big question. If a good God made the world why has it gone wrong? And for many years I simply refused to listen to the Christian answers to this question, because I kept on feeling 'whatever you say, and however clever your arguments are, isn't it much simpler and easier to say that the world was not made by any intelligent power? Aren't all your arguments simply a complicated attempted to avoid the obvious?' But then that threw me back into another difficulty.
"My argument against God was that the universe seemed so cruel and unjust. But how had I got this idea of just and unjust? A man does not call a line crooked unless he has some idea of a straight line. What was I comparing this universe with when I called it unjust? If the whole show was bad and senseless from A to Z, so to speak, why did I, who was supposed to be part of the show, find myself in such violent reaction against it? A man feels wet when he falls into water, because man is not a water animal: a fish would not feel wet. Of course I could have given up my idea of justice by saying it was nothing but a private idea of my own. But if I did that, then my argument against God collapsed too - for the argument depended on saying that the world was really unjust, not simply that it did not happen to please my fantasies. Thus in the very act of trying to prove that God did not exist - in other words, that the whole of reality was senseless - I found I was force to assume that one part of reality - namely my idea of justice - was full of sense. Consequently atheism turns out to be too simple. If the whole universe has no meaning, we should never have found out that it has no meaning: just as, if there were no light in the universe and therefore no creatures with eyes, we should never know it was dark. Dark would be a word without meaning."
Monday, February 15, 2010
Wobbly
I'm having a really difficult time standing on my own two feet right now.
First and foremost, it's because I started anti-depressant medication on Friday. Zoloft. Fun freakin' stuff. The doctor warned me that there would be some side effects but that they would wear off in a week or so. I shrugged and told her I could deal with it. I took the pill Friday evening. Then the nausea started. The nausea that made my stomach unstable and made me feel uncomfortable when I ate. But I could deal with the nausea if that's all that it was. However, something else hit me that I didn't expect: insomnia. Friday night, I tossed and turned in bed, my mind a whir because it was so tired but I laid there, not being able to fall into a proper state of sleep. Saturday night and Sunday night were the same.
Secondly, I'm so tired that walking around is totally exhausting right now. If you don't dream, if you skip your REM cycle, you're launched into the totally exhausted state that I am in right now. This is not a fun state to be in, by the way.
I know that many people have mixed feeling about me taking anti-depressants. I have mixed feelings about it, too. I initially refused taking them 3 years ago but now, especially with a history of depression and drug-related problems on my father's side, taking them seems more of the right thing to do. And I know everyone's just concerned about how my body is going to handle it. How I'm going to handle it.
But, currently being so tired that I can barely type, all I can tell you is that I'm trying to deal the best way I can.
First and foremost, it's because I started anti-depressant medication on Friday. Zoloft. Fun freakin' stuff. The doctor warned me that there would be some side effects but that they would wear off in a week or so. I shrugged and told her I could deal with it. I took the pill Friday evening. Then the nausea started. The nausea that made my stomach unstable and made me feel uncomfortable when I ate. But I could deal with the nausea if that's all that it was. However, something else hit me that I didn't expect: insomnia. Friday night, I tossed and turned in bed, my mind a whir because it was so tired but I laid there, not being able to fall into a proper state of sleep. Saturday night and Sunday night were the same.
Secondly, I'm so tired that walking around is totally exhausting right now. If you don't dream, if you skip your REM cycle, you're launched into the totally exhausted state that I am in right now. This is not a fun state to be in, by the way.
I know that many people have mixed feeling about me taking anti-depressants. I have mixed feelings about it, too. I initially refused taking them 3 years ago but now, especially with a history of depression and drug-related problems on my father's side, taking them seems more of the right thing to do. And I know everyone's just concerned about how my body is going to handle it. How I'm going to handle it.
But, currently being so tired that I can barely type, all I can tell you is that I'm trying to deal the best way I can.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
50 Things You Probably Didn’t Know About Me:
1. I have had moderate chronic depression for approximately 3 years. Actually, I didn’t technically “know” this about myself until today. I wasn’t surprised when the doctor told me, though, since I basically know how and when it began.
2. I’m sure the reason why it’s considered “moderate” is only because I have never wanted to kill myself.
3. I despise all forms of mood-altering medication, including the majority of all painkillers (except Advil, which is my BFF). It is for that reason that I refused treatment when my depression began 3 years ago, even though it would have helped me back then.
4. If I could have any pet in the world (and not be allergic), it would be a fennec fox. I find them absolutely adorable and their ears make me do little girly squeals inside.
5. Those iPod commercials? That’s me. Whenever I listen to music from my iPod, I feel compelled to break out in crazy dance moves or drum along with the band I’m listening to. Unfortunately, when I listen to my iPod, I tend to be around a somewhat large number of people who might find it odd for a girl to break out and dance without any warning.
6. I played the xylophone in my high school band for about 2 years. It was the best experience of my life.
7. I love Disneyland. I would prefer going there than… pretty much any other theme park. This does not include California Adventures, although “Soaring Over California” is one of the best rides ever.
8. I have a pair of combat boots, thanks to the help of my sister. I have yet to get the guts up to wear them.
9. I’ve been stabbed with a pencil twice, once in my chest (when I ran into a wall with a freshly sharpened #2 pencil) and once in my foot (when I was running through a classroom in 5th grade.) I had to get a tetanus shot the second time.
10. I don’t use pencils if I can help it. I write everything in pen and religiously carry around a bottle of whiteout with me. Eraser pens are ridiculous.
11. Eggs disgust me. I don’t mind them being in desserts (since they are an essential baking product) but I cannot stand anything predominantly eggy. Such as an omelet. Boiled eggs are ok.
12. I listen to the soundtracks from Glee to put me in a good mood.
13. I cannot write if my nails are painted. My father didn’t believe when I told him this and forced me to get a manicure. I picked all the paint off in about 48 hours and was able to pick my pen up again.
14. I don’t like ice cream. This bugs my aunt during family gatherings because ice cream is the easiest dessert to get. Apparently “everyone” likes it.
15. I’m afraid of always being seen as “the hardware girl.”
16. My new nickname at the newspaper is “Hasselhoffman.”
17. I’ve never broken a bone but I’ve split my chin open and had to be taken to the hospital for stitches. And I didn’t shed a single tear while the stitches were done.
18. I still watch Lost. I have watched it every week since it started and, even though people make fun of me, I am proud for sticking with it.
19. I adore soap opera shows that aren’t exactly defined as a soap opera. “Grey’s Anatomy” is one. “Ugly Betty” is another.
20. I gained my allergies to cats when I was about 10. No one’s sure how I grew into allergies when we’ve had cats my entire life.
21. I also gained sports asthma freshman year of high school after playing soccer for about 6 years.
22. If you use “really” and “a lot” in the same sentence, I will find out where you live and beat you up.
23. I don’t have a favorite number. I don’t know why people have one.
24. “The Emperor’s New Groove” is my favorite movie ever. And I don’t own it on DVD.
25. I don’t know what I would do without my cell phone.
26. In preschool, a little boy wanted to give me a box of chocolates on Valentines Day. My dad had a fit.
27. I was dumped the first time in 3rd grade by a boy who played the piano. I should have known I wouldn’t end up with a musician.
28. My favorite food is sushi. The shapes macaroni and cheese comes in a close second.
29. I cannot stand drinking any kind of liqueur straight.
30. I hate scary movies. Unless they’re about zombies.
31. The only cat to which I am not allergic (oddly enough) is a deaf cat named Helen, who happens to belong to a good friend of mine. I cuddle Helen at least once a week.
32. The first concert I ever went to was to see James Taylor in Bakersfield with my mom. We had the best seats in the stadium.
33. I had braces for 6 years and had to beg my orthodontist to take them off before my senior graduation. I got them off the day before.
34. When I was younger, everyone thought my sister and I were twins. Now, we don’t look anything alike and everyone’s convinced that SHE is the older one. Pshaw.
35. I think buying a gift for a guy is impossible. Girls are easy. Jewelry.
36. My favorite cereal in the whole world is Berry Berry Kix. But they no longer exist.
37. I cannot fall asleep if my bedroom door is open. The light from Esther’s tank shines in and keeps me awake.
38. I have an irrational fear of being “burglared.” I will sometimes check the door to see if it’s locked 2 or 3 times before I can safely fall asleep.
39. I enjoy writing by hand more than typing on a computer but typing is a little more convenient.
40. I cannot do any homework on the weekend unless I’ve had a shower first.
41. When making cookie dough, I have to force myself to keep going after putting together the vanilla, brown sugar, white sugar, and butter or else I will eat it all.
42. I wont eat cooked fish.
43. On a regular basis, I long for a good steak. I maybe eat one about once a year.
44. I would spend obscene amounts of money on my mother if she would let me.
45. If I could, I would drop everything and go help out in Haiti right now.
46. Only being enrolled in technically 3 classes makes me feel like I’m not pushing myself hard enough.
47. It is possible I am causing my own depression.
48. Although my favorite soda is Pepsi, I would spend quite a bit of money on Goose Island Rootbeer, which I had for the first time in Chicago.
49. I will watch anything with Nathan Fillion in it or if Joss Whedon directs it.
50. Although my favorite color is lavender, I love the way blue and brown look together.
2. I’m sure the reason why it’s considered “moderate” is only because I have never wanted to kill myself.
3. I despise all forms of mood-altering medication, including the majority of all painkillers (except Advil, which is my BFF). It is for that reason that I refused treatment when my depression began 3 years ago, even though it would have helped me back then.
4. If I could have any pet in the world (and not be allergic), it would be a fennec fox. I find them absolutely adorable and their ears make me do little girly squeals inside.
5. Those iPod commercials? That’s me. Whenever I listen to music from my iPod, I feel compelled to break out in crazy dance moves or drum along with the band I’m listening to. Unfortunately, when I listen to my iPod, I tend to be around a somewhat large number of people who might find it odd for a girl to break out and dance without any warning.
6. I played the xylophone in my high school band for about 2 years. It was the best experience of my life.
7. I love Disneyland. I would prefer going there than… pretty much any other theme park. This does not include California Adventures, although “Soaring Over California” is one of the best rides ever.
8. I have a pair of combat boots, thanks to the help of my sister. I have yet to get the guts up to wear them.
9. I’ve been stabbed with a pencil twice, once in my chest (when I ran into a wall with a freshly sharpened #2 pencil) and once in my foot (when I was running through a classroom in 5th grade.) I had to get a tetanus shot the second time.
10. I don’t use pencils if I can help it. I write everything in pen and religiously carry around a bottle of whiteout with me. Eraser pens are ridiculous.
11. Eggs disgust me. I don’t mind them being in desserts (since they are an essential baking product) but I cannot stand anything predominantly eggy. Such as an omelet. Boiled eggs are ok.
12. I listen to the soundtracks from Glee to put me in a good mood.
13. I cannot write if my nails are painted. My father didn’t believe when I told him this and forced me to get a manicure. I picked all the paint off in about 48 hours and was able to pick my pen up again.
14. I don’t like ice cream. This bugs my aunt during family gatherings because ice cream is the easiest dessert to get. Apparently “everyone” likes it.
15. I’m afraid of always being seen as “the hardware girl.”
16. My new nickname at the newspaper is “Hasselhoffman.”
17. I’ve never broken a bone but I’ve split my chin open and had to be taken to the hospital for stitches. And I didn’t shed a single tear while the stitches were done.
18. I still watch Lost. I have watched it every week since it started and, even though people make fun of me, I am proud for sticking with it.
19. I adore soap opera shows that aren’t exactly defined as a soap opera. “Grey’s Anatomy” is one. “Ugly Betty” is another.
20. I gained my allergies to cats when I was about 10. No one’s sure how I grew into allergies when we’ve had cats my entire life.
21. I also gained sports asthma freshman year of high school after playing soccer for about 6 years.
22. If you use “really” and “a lot” in the same sentence, I will find out where you live and beat you up.
23. I don’t have a favorite number. I don’t know why people have one.
24. “The Emperor’s New Groove” is my favorite movie ever. And I don’t own it on DVD.
25. I don’t know what I would do without my cell phone.
26. In preschool, a little boy wanted to give me a box of chocolates on Valentines Day. My dad had a fit.
27. I was dumped the first time in 3rd grade by a boy who played the piano. I should have known I wouldn’t end up with a musician.
28. My favorite food is sushi. The shapes macaroni and cheese comes in a close second.
29. I cannot stand drinking any kind of liqueur straight.
30. I hate scary movies. Unless they’re about zombies.
31. The only cat to which I am not allergic (oddly enough) is a deaf cat named Helen, who happens to belong to a good friend of mine. I cuddle Helen at least once a week.
32. The first concert I ever went to was to see James Taylor in Bakersfield with my mom. We had the best seats in the stadium.
33. I had braces for 6 years and had to beg my orthodontist to take them off before my senior graduation. I got them off the day before.
34. When I was younger, everyone thought my sister and I were twins. Now, we don’t look anything alike and everyone’s convinced that SHE is the older one. Pshaw.
35. I think buying a gift for a guy is impossible. Girls are easy. Jewelry.
36. My favorite cereal in the whole world is Berry Berry Kix. But they no longer exist.
37. I cannot fall asleep if my bedroom door is open. The light from Esther’s tank shines in and keeps me awake.
38. I have an irrational fear of being “burglared.” I will sometimes check the door to see if it’s locked 2 or 3 times before I can safely fall asleep.
39. I enjoy writing by hand more than typing on a computer but typing is a little more convenient.
40. I cannot do any homework on the weekend unless I’ve had a shower first.
41. When making cookie dough, I have to force myself to keep going after putting together the vanilla, brown sugar, white sugar, and butter or else I will eat it all.
42. I wont eat cooked fish.
43. On a regular basis, I long for a good steak. I maybe eat one about once a year.
44. I would spend obscene amounts of money on my mother if she would let me.
45. If I could, I would drop everything and go help out in Haiti right now.
46. Only being enrolled in technically 3 classes makes me feel like I’m not pushing myself hard enough.
47. It is possible I am causing my own depression.
48. Although my favorite soda is Pepsi, I would spend quite a bit of money on Goose Island Rootbeer, which I had for the first time in Chicago.
49. I will watch anything with Nathan Fillion in it or if Joss Whedon directs it.
50. Although my favorite color is lavender, I love the way blue and brown look together.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
I have really been struggling with what to say on here.
Every day this week, I've logged onto my computer and sat, staring at this blog, wanting to write something. But the words just haven't been coming. "My life just isn't that entertaining," I think to myself. But I know that isn't it. I know that there's a reason why I never feel excited to share anything or have anything to share.
The lows have been very low. There haven't been any highs. My highest point is when I feel in the middle and, right now, just getting there feels great. I feel as if I'm clinging on to everything that I know just to stay in that middle ground and, fortunately, it's leading me back to a place that I haven't been in a little while.
Church.
Since the depressing really sat in at the beginning of December, I've been avoiding church. Part of me wanted to just go home and see my pastor back home and part of me was afraid. Afraid that this whole depression thing wouldn't get resolved and afraid that God wasn't helping me what-so-ever with anything. However, when the school year started back up, a friend of mine told me she really wanted to get back into church again and the three of us (my friend, the boyfriend, and I) went to a church together last week. My friend had heard good things about this church and, as it turns out, the church happened to be very much like mine from back home. When I came home that day, I felt encouraged to go again.
On Tuesday, my friend and I attended the ZOE (which means "life") college group meeting. Being with her was probably the best solution to going to a new place where I didn't know a single person... especially because we both felt that way. I'm pretty sure that was the first time I have felt that uplifted in a long time and it really just spoke to me that I needed to be there, to go to church and attend the college group and even go to the Thursday night women's bible study.
I think I'm taking a step in the right direction but I know that I'm still depressed. I know that there's still something wrong with me, something that I can't just fix with a snap of my fingers. But... with a friend like the one I have, I think I can move towards the beginnings of fixing things.
I try to always end my blog on a positive note. But... this time I have to say that I'm really not positive. I'm not hopeful. I'm barely hanging on to whatever I have left in me.
So pray.
Every day this week, I've logged onto my computer and sat, staring at this blog, wanting to write something. But the words just haven't been coming. "My life just isn't that entertaining," I think to myself. But I know that isn't it. I know that there's a reason why I never feel excited to share anything or have anything to share.
The lows have been very low. There haven't been any highs. My highest point is when I feel in the middle and, right now, just getting there feels great. I feel as if I'm clinging on to everything that I know just to stay in that middle ground and, fortunately, it's leading me back to a place that I haven't been in a little while.
Church.
Since the depressing really sat in at the beginning of December, I've been avoiding church. Part of me wanted to just go home and see my pastor back home and part of me was afraid. Afraid that this whole depression thing wouldn't get resolved and afraid that God wasn't helping me what-so-ever with anything. However, when the school year started back up, a friend of mine told me she really wanted to get back into church again and the three of us (my friend, the boyfriend, and I) went to a church together last week. My friend had heard good things about this church and, as it turns out, the church happened to be very much like mine from back home. When I came home that day, I felt encouraged to go again.
On Tuesday, my friend and I attended the ZOE (which means "life") college group meeting. Being with her was probably the best solution to going to a new place where I didn't know a single person... especially because we both felt that way. I'm pretty sure that was the first time I have felt that uplifted in a long time and it really just spoke to me that I needed to be there, to go to church and attend the college group and even go to the Thursday night women's bible study.
I think I'm taking a step in the right direction but I know that I'm still depressed. I know that there's still something wrong with me, something that I can't just fix with a snap of my fingers. But... with a friend like the one I have, I think I can move towards the beginnings of fixing things.
I try to always end my blog on a positive note. But... this time I have to say that I'm really not positive. I'm not hopeful. I'm barely hanging on to whatever I have left in me.
So pray.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Scribblings from the Black Hole
I think the hardest part is wanting to feel normal and never actually getting there.
I envy myself on the days when I don't feel anything. Because, obviously, when I don't feel anything, it means that I don't feel depressed. Or sad. Or angry. Or holding on to something negative that I can't quite identify but which throws me off of feeling like a normal person. Not feeling anything feels good to me. When I'm sitting down and don't have to sigh to try and release all the tension built up inside of me that came from somewhere... and I'm not always sure where... that's really nice.
I'm depressed. I'm imbalanced. I know it. I'm working on it.
I went to my first round of therapy last Friday. For those of you who have arrived at my blog late, here are a couple things you should know:
1. I am severely depressed and have been since my parent's divorce. However, I am normally able to cover it up with schoolwork, since I am a perfectionist. This winter break, 5 weeks of doing nothing, determined that I need to go to therapy again (yes, this is my second time since the divorce) and finally work through my feelings about that man that's supposedly my father and my depression.
2. I know my therapist. He was my Drugs in Our Society instructor and I'm convinced that the only reason why I was in that major (Health Education) for a semester (before settling with journalism) and why I took that class was so God could have me meet him. He is a very kind man and the fact that I know him makes talking to him 100 times easier, although he doesn't necessarily think so.
So, my therapist and I sat down Friday to begin things. I spent the first half-an-hour talking about my week and when he said, "I wouldn't give a teacher that much power," it began. After much discussing, we settled on a couple of things to work on.
1. My perfectionist nature — why I kick my butt to get straight A's when I know I don't need to.
2. My depression — the fact that it didn't begin due to my parent's divorce
3. My crying — I do it whenever I have an overabundance of any emotion
None of these I can work on alone. I should probably work on my anger as well, but I'm sure that, with time, working through the depression will lessen the anger.
What's really not helping me this week is the unnecessary drama that I've been going through. One of my goals was to stay away from all the dramatic stuff this semester at the newspaper... but it seems to have followed me out of it. It really makes me sad to be in any kind of rift with any of my friends, especially since I'm new here and still don't have that many friend.
But I'll keep working through it, the stress, the drama, the depression.
There's got to be a light out of this hole somewhere.
I envy myself on the days when I don't feel anything. Because, obviously, when I don't feel anything, it means that I don't feel depressed. Or sad. Or angry. Or holding on to something negative that I can't quite identify but which throws me off of feeling like a normal person. Not feeling anything feels good to me. When I'm sitting down and don't have to sigh to try and release all the tension built up inside of me that came from somewhere... and I'm not always sure where... that's really nice.
I'm depressed. I'm imbalanced. I know it. I'm working on it.
I went to my first round of therapy last Friday. For those of you who have arrived at my blog late, here are a couple things you should know:
1. I am severely depressed and have been since my parent's divorce. However, I am normally able to cover it up with schoolwork, since I am a perfectionist. This winter break, 5 weeks of doing nothing, determined that I need to go to therapy again (yes, this is my second time since the divorce) and finally work through my feelings about that man that's supposedly my father and my depression.
2. I know my therapist. He was my Drugs in Our Society instructor and I'm convinced that the only reason why I was in that major (Health Education) for a semester (before settling with journalism) and why I took that class was so God could have me meet him. He is a very kind man and the fact that I know him makes talking to him 100 times easier, although he doesn't necessarily think so.
So, my therapist and I sat down Friday to begin things. I spent the first half-an-hour talking about my week and when he said, "I wouldn't give a teacher that much power," it began. After much discussing, we settled on a couple of things to work on.
1. My perfectionist nature — why I kick my butt to get straight A's when I know I don't need to.
2. My depression — the fact that it didn't begin due to my parent's divorce
3. My crying — I do it whenever I have an overabundance of any emotion
None of these I can work on alone. I should probably work on my anger as well, but I'm sure that, with time, working through the depression will lessen the anger.
What's really not helping me this week is the unnecessary drama that I've been going through. One of my goals was to stay away from all the dramatic stuff this semester at the newspaper... but it seems to have followed me out of it. It really makes me sad to be in any kind of rift with any of my friends, especially since I'm new here and still don't have that many friend.
But I'll keep working through it, the stress, the drama, the depression.
There's got to be a light out of this hole somewhere.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
And Now Part 2 of the Dramatic Life of Megan...
And I really thought things couldn't get any worse.
I was wrong. Today got worse, much worse. So much that I am now a broken being and still in shock from the day's events. When I say broken, I mean that my entire ego, my confidence in editing, my excitement to be in this major was absolutely shattered. In about... 10 minutes.
It all started when I finally got a hold of the department chair. I had spent all day long trying to catch him between meetings and finally, around 1:30, I was able to catch his attention for. Earlier today, I was shaking up a storm when I was supposed to go and see him (but he was in a meeting), so by the time that I did speak with him, I was more determined to just get the whole thing over with.
The conversation started out well enough. I told him about myself, that I had my AA in English and that I was a transfer student. He even joked with me about having started out as an English major himself. Then it began. I explained why I was there and my purpose for speaking with him, even though my adviser and the professor had already spoken with him. He told me that since the copy editing class did have a prerequisite, I would have to wait to take it. I would have easily agreed with him and left at that point, but he felt that he had to continue. He felt compelled to inform me that, just because I had my AA in English, it might mean that I was a good proofer but it definitely didn't mean that I was a good copy editor. He said that if he had the option, he would not have hired me at the newspaper last semester and insinuated that he probably wouldn't have hired me this semester either. He also told me that he was giving his copy editing students a quiz the next day and he was positive that I would fail it.
I left his office, devistated.
The current chief copy did her best to cheer me up, but I still don't really feel better. I feel broken. She assured me that there was a reason why she has me as the lead section copy editor. But I still feel broken.
So, about an hour later, I finally got a hold of my adviser. The adviser who had told me that he would take care of it. The adviser that never contacted me. As soon as I saw him, I told him what the department chair had said. I expected him, like always, to be sympathetic and on my side. However, instead, he pulled me aside and began to speak to me very quietly. He told me that the entire thing wouldn't have blown out of hand if I hadn't been late to the copy editing class in the first place. He BLAMED me for the whole thing. He told me that once I had let the instructor know, that once the instructor emailed the department head, everything had blown up. He basically blamed me.
After discussing it with many friends, I've come to the conclusion that I have landed in the middle of a tiff between two full grown men. I realize that this argument cannot be about me. I haven't done anything wrong. All that I did was tell the truth. I told the truth that I was in a class that I technically wasn't supposed to be in. It may have blown up on me, but I fought and lost. I had a man break me into a million pieces simply because he was frustrated that my adviser had told me to sign up for the class. Taking it out on me was wrong and I'm still broken and frustrated by it. However, I know that he probably didn't mean it.
Still... it'll take me a while to pick up the pieces.
I was wrong. Today got worse, much worse. So much that I am now a broken being and still in shock from the day's events. When I say broken, I mean that my entire ego, my confidence in editing, my excitement to be in this major was absolutely shattered. In about... 10 minutes.
It all started when I finally got a hold of the department chair. I had spent all day long trying to catch him between meetings and finally, around 1:30, I was able to catch his attention for. Earlier today, I was shaking up a storm when I was supposed to go and see him (but he was in a meeting), so by the time that I did speak with him, I was more determined to just get the whole thing over with.
The conversation started out well enough. I told him about myself, that I had my AA in English and that I was a transfer student. He even joked with me about having started out as an English major himself. Then it began. I explained why I was there and my purpose for speaking with him, even though my adviser and the professor had already spoken with him. He told me that since the copy editing class did have a prerequisite, I would have to wait to take it. I would have easily agreed with him and left at that point, but he felt that he had to continue. He felt compelled to inform me that, just because I had my AA in English, it might mean that I was a good proofer but it definitely didn't mean that I was a good copy editor. He said that if he had the option, he would not have hired me at the newspaper last semester and insinuated that he probably wouldn't have hired me this semester either. He also told me that he was giving his copy editing students a quiz the next day and he was positive that I would fail it.
I left his office, devistated.
The current chief copy did her best to cheer me up, but I still don't really feel better. I feel broken. She assured me that there was a reason why she has me as the lead section copy editor. But I still feel broken.
So, about an hour later, I finally got a hold of my adviser. The adviser who had told me that he would take care of it. The adviser that never contacted me. As soon as I saw him, I told him what the department chair had said. I expected him, like always, to be sympathetic and on my side. However, instead, he pulled me aside and began to speak to me very quietly. He told me that the entire thing wouldn't have blown out of hand if I hadn't been late to the copy editing class in the first place. He BLAMED me for the whole thing. He told me that once I had let the instructor know, that once the instructor emailed the department head, everything had blown up. He basically blamed me.
After discussing it with many friends, I've come to the conclusion that I have landed in the middle of a tiff between two full grown men. I realize that this argument cannot be about me. I haven't done anything wrong. All that I did was tell the truth. I told the truth that I was in a class that I technically wasn't supposed to be in. It may have blown up on me, but I fought and lost. I had a man break me into a million pieces simply because he was frustrated that my adviser had told me to sign up for the class. Taking it out on me was wrong and I'm still broken and frustrated by it. However, I know that he probably didn't mean it.
Still... it'll take me a while to pick up the pieces.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
And Now Part 1 of the Dramatic Life of Megan...
I am convinced this day could not get any worse. And yes, right now, I look very much like this:
It started at 9:15 this morning. That's right. 9:15. When I woke up and realized that I was late for my first day of my 9am copy editing class. I don't think I've ever dressed so quickly. I realize that being a little late for a class isn't that big of a deal but I had heard stories of the professor that I was about to meet, so I thought that I was going to get grief about being late for sure. However, when I entered the class, breathless from running, the professor let me sit down without much of a problem. Sure, she teased me a little bit about being late but it wasn't bad. After doing a brief assignment of copy editing a story so that she could see where we were in our copy editing ability, I went up to apologize for being late. I did not want to start off on the wrong foot with this professor, especially because I wasn't supposed to take this class until after I took news-writing.
However, after she found out that I hadn't taken news-writing yet and that I was actually taking it this semester, she told me that I needed to talk to the department chair about being in the class. The same department chair, she also informed me, who forced her to drop 3 of her other students for taking news-writing at the same time as well.
JOLLY DAY.
I was devastated, of course. My adviser had promised me that taking this class would not be that big of a problem and I would be able to push through it fairly easily. So, I went to speak to him and he seemed surprised that he needed to speak to the department chair as well. What??? I thought to myself. Haven't you done this before?
I didn't hear from him the rest of the day (and still haven't heard from him... bad sign?) but I did run into my instructor. I got the guts up to ask her if she had spoken with the department head. She said that she had and he had said that, I quote, "under no circumstance is she allowed into your class this semester." No circumstance? What if I was dying and finishing my journalism major was my last dying wish? What if I was getting a job at a large magazine in the summer? No circumstance... I think wanting to be Chief Copy next semester is a freakin' decent circumstance. It means, "Hello. I'm willing to kick my butt taking a class that's going to be a little harder for me than other people because I'm taking the prereq at the same time instead of the semester before... see how dedicated I am???"
Anyway, I emailed the department chair (due to much persuading by the managing editor of the newspaper) and am going to go in and talk to him tomorrow, whether he emails me back or not. I will not take "no" for an answer until he tells it to my face. I'm not an ordinary student and I want him to know that, even if he tells me "no" again. I would be fighting for this a little bit harder if I didn't have 12 units (luckily the newspaper saves me with an extra 3 units because, technically, it's a "class"), but I do want this. And I'm not a fan of being told "no" when he doesn't even know me.
Apart from that, the day went fairly... I guess I could call it smoothly. (Since there were no tears. Weird things still happened.) My C.S. Lewis and Tolkien class took an interesting turn when 1) my professor decided to "make fun" of the story of Job in the Bible and 2) my professor decided to call this class useless and said that neither the works of Lewis or Tolkien were great works of literature. Luckily, with the first, I discovered that there is another fairly strong believer in Christ in my class, who I will probably be paired with for projects since we appear to be the only 2 Christians in a religious studies class. And with the second... I pretty much blew the professor away with why the works of Lewis and Tolkien not only matter, but are great works. (I'm going to give props to my background in Literature.) Then, in my other journalism class (it's a basic people & media class), my professor decided it would be funny if everyone told him what food we would be when he called our name for roll, and then made crude sexual jokes about whatever we picked. I don't give a darn if the man has tenure... he needs to learn some manners.
Right now, though, I need to begin to read 5 chapters of the Hobbit (due Thursday) and get some sleep so I don't wake up at 9:15 again. More to come with the events of tomorrow...
It started at 9:15 this morning. That's right. 9:15. When I woke up and realized that I was late for my first day of my 9am copy editing class. I don't think I've ever dressed so quickly. I realize that being a little late for a class isn't that big of a deal but I had heard stories of the professor that I was about to meet, so I thought that I was going to get grief about being late for sure. However, when I entered the class, breathless from running, the professor let me sit down without much of a problem. Sure, she teased me a little bit about being late but it wasn't bad. After doing a brief assignment of copy editing a story so that she could see where we were in our copy editing ability, I went up to apologize for being late. I did not want to start off on the wrong foot with this professor, especially because I wasn't supposed to take this class until after I took news-writing.
However, after she found out that I hadn't taken news-writing yet and that I was actually taking it this semester, she told me that I needed to talk to the department chair about being in the class. The same department chair, she also informed me, who forced her to drop 3 of her other students for taking news-writing at the same time as well.
JOLLY DAY.
I was devastated, of course. My adviser had promised me that taking this class would not be that big of a problem and I would be able to push through it fairly easily. So, I went to speak to him and he seemed surprised that he needed to speak to the department chair as well. What??? I thought to myself. Haven't you done this before?
I didn't hear from him the rest of the day (and still haven't heard from him... bad sign?) but I did run into my instructor. I got the guts up to ask her if she had spoken with the department head. She said that she had and he had said that, I quote, "under no circumstance is she allowed into your class this semester." No circumstance? What if I was dying and finishing my journalism major was my last dying wish? What if I was getting a job at a large magazine in the summer? No circumstance... I think wanting to be Chief Copy next semester is a freakin' decent circumstance. It means, "Hello. I'm willing to kick my butt taking a class that's going to be a little harder for me than other people because I'm taking the prereq at the same time instead of the semester before... see how dedicated I am???"
Anyway, I emailed the department chair (due to much persuading by the managing editor of the newspaper) and am going to go in and talk to him tomorrow, whether he emails me back or not. I will not take "no" for an answer until he tells it to my face. I'm not an ordinary student and I want him to know that, even if he tells me "no" again. I would be fighting for this a little bit harder if I didn't have 12 units (luckily the newspaper saves me with an extra 3 units because, technically, it's a "class"), but I do want this. And I'm not a fan of being told "no" when he doesn't even know me.
Apart from that, the day went fairly... I guess I could call it smoothly. (Since there were no tears. Weird things still happened.) My C.S. Lewis and Tolkien class took an interesting turn when 1) my professor decided to "make fun" of the story of Job in the Bible and 2) my professor decided to call this class useless and said that neither the works of Lewis or Tolkien were great works of literature. Luckily, with the first, I discovered that there is another fairly strong believer in Christ in my class, who I will probably be paired with for projects since we appear to be the only 2 Christians in a religious studies class. And with the second... I pretty much blew the professor away with why the works of Lewis and Tolkien not only matter, but are great works. (I'm going to give props to my background in Literature.) Then, in my other journalism class (it's a basic people & media class), my professor decided it would be funny if everyone told him what food we would be when he called our name for roll, and then made crude sexual jokes about whatever we picked. I don't give a darn if the man has tenure... he needs to learn some manners.
Right now, though, I need to begin to read 5 chapters of the Hobbit (due Thursday) and get some sleep so I don't wake up at 9:15 again. More to come with the events of tomorrow...
Barely Hanging On
I'm beginning to feel like the beginning of my semesters are going to start the same way over and over and over. Last semester, I had a problem with my legs. This semester, I have a cold that won't go away.
Last Monday began with a flu of about 102. Most of my friends freaked out and wanted to take me to the hospital but, after calling my mom, it was determined that I was fine. Heck, even the nurse at the student health center said I was fine (but I'm still having a tough time trying to trust those people.) Then came everything else that comes with a cold: the stuffy nose, the headaches, and the sore throat. I've had a million colds in my 21 years but nothing compared to the intensity of this one. As the week went on, a cough developed and, though my throat seemed fine during the day, at night it went all Dr. Jeckle on me. The past couple of nights have been impossible for me to sleep, either because I can't stop coughing or because my throat hurts so bad that I don't even want to consider swallowing. All the Halls in the world did absolutely nothing for either of those. So, I'm currently on amoxicillin and praying that all of this stuff goes away. I'd like to feel normal again.
That being said, school started back up again today. My first class, newswriting, was extremely awkward. The professor decided to call out not only the names but the majors and years of each student, so I quickly discovered that I was the only junior in a class filled with freshman and a few sophomores. I was on the verge of mentioning that I was on the newspaper staff but I don't want to get off to a bad start with all the younglings around me, so I kept my mouth shut. A little later in the day, I had my rock climbing class, which I had to drop due to the fact that the professor wanted to go on class trips on the weekends and my entire weekend is dedicated to the newspaper.
And speaking of the newspaper... if I said we were busy today, that would totally under-estimate how swamped we were. I spent the majority of my day downstairs with the rest of the editors, helping out as best as I could. My new job as Lead Section Copy Editor has definitely taken on many more responsibilities. I stepped out of the newspaper for an hour to go to a class and, in the time, I received a call from the Chief Copy Editor, wanting to know if I could edit four opinion stories that had arrived extremely late and the current opinion copy editor was at soccer practice. So, off I tromped to the basement again for 2 hours of copy editing. (I had been down there earlier for about 2 hours before my next class and, at that time, they didn't have anything for me to do.) Then, right after I left the school to go home and crash from all my copy editing time, I recieved another call, this time from the managing editor, who needed me to look over the final proof of a couple of stories because the Chief Copy Editor needed to go to class (class? What's that?) and didn't get the time to look over again. So, as I waited for my pasta to cook at home, I sat and edited another three stories.
I'm basically the on-call, go-to copy-editor, when people need someone.
I'm really glad that I decided to take this job before becoming Chief Copy, just so I start feeling the weight of responsibility on my shoulders getting heavier. I realize that this is the first week of school, so things are a bit crazy, but getting used to being on-call isn't too bad. Especially because I'm going to have a lot more responsibility next semester.
Tomorrow, I have a copy editing class, the religious study on C.S. Lewis and J.R.R Tolkien, and Women, Men, and the Media. It should be an interesting day...
Now, if I could just stop coughing, the world would be dandy.
Last Monday began with a flu of about 102. Most of my friends freaked out and wanted to take me to the hospital but, after calling my mom, it was determined that I was fine. Heck, even the nurse at the student health center said I was fine (but I'm still having a tough time trying to trust those people.) Then came everything else that comes with a cold: the stuffy nose, the headaches, and the sore throat. I've had a million colds in my 21 years but nothing compared to the intensity of this one. As the week went on, a cough developed and, though my throat seemed fine during the day, at night it went all Dr. Jeckle on me. The past couple of nights have been impossible for me to sleep, either because I can't stop coughing or because my throat hurts so bad that I don't even want to consider swallowing. All the Halls in the world did absolutely nothing for either of those. So, I'm currently on amoxicillin and praying that all of this stuff goes away. I'd like to feel normal again.
That being said, school started back up again today. My first class, newswriting, was extremely awkward. The professor decided to call out not only the names but the majors and years of each student, so I quickly discovered that I was the only junior in a class filled with freshman and a few sophomores. I was on the verge of mentioning that I was on the newspaper staff but I don't want to get off to a bad start with all the younglings around me, so I kept my mouth shut. A little later in the day, I had my rock climbing class, which I had to drop due to the fact that the professor wanted to go on class trips on the weekends and my entire weekend is dedicated to the newspaper.
And speaking of the newspaper... if I said we were busy today, that would totally under-estimate how swamped we were. I spent the majority of my day downstairs with the rest of the editors, helping out as best as I could. My new job as Lead Section Copy Editor has definitely taken on many more responsibilities. I stepped out of the newspaper for an hour to go to a class and, in the time, I received a call from the Chief Copy Editor, wanting to know if I could edit four opinion stories that had arrived extremely late and the current opinion copy editor was at soccer practice. So, off I tromped to the basement again for 2 hours of copy editing. (I had been down there earlier for about 2 hours before my next class and, at that time, they didn't have anything for me to do.) Then, right after I left the school to go home and crash from all my copy editing time, I recieved another call, this time from the managing editor, who needed me to look over the final proof of a couple of stories because the Chief Copy Editor needed to go to class (class? What's that?) and didn't get the time to look over again. So, as I waited for my pasta to cook at home, I sat and edited another three stories.
I'm basically the on-call, go-to copy-editor, when people need someone.
I'm really glad that I decided to take this job before becoming Chief Copy, just so I start feeling the weight of responsibility on my shoulders getting heavier. I realize that this is the first week of school, so things are a bit crazy, but getting used to being on-call isn't too bad. Especially because I'm going to have a lot more responsibility next semester.
Tomorrow, I have a copy editing class, the religious study on C.S. Lewis and J.R.R Tolkien, and Women, Men, and the Media. It should be an interesting day...
Now, if I could just stop coughing, the world would be dandy.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Here We Go Again
I have to start therapy a week from this Friday and I have no idea if I'm prepared for it or not.
I don't know what to say about my dad or even where to begin. He haunts my dreams sometimes, always yelling about something, and I wake just wishing that he was gone. I hate wishing someone to just be gone from my life but it's true. What hurts so much is to be starting this again, to be telling the same stories all over again, to be reliving some of the same memories all over again. With my friends and my family... they know what he did. They know what he did to hurt me and my family. They know all the reasons why I despise the man with every last bone in my body. They know all the horrible things that he's done and said to make me wish he was on another planet. They know why I talk about how I don't really have a dad.
But I do have a dad and I have to talk about him next Friday. I have to talk about his verbal abusive attitude and his hate for everything in the world, and how he would treat everyone in my family horribly and say how wonderful his daughter, Megan, was. I have to talk about how everyone else outside my family couldn't believe me when I told them that living with him was like walking on egg-shells because "your father is such a good man and he seems to love you so much." I have to talk about what he's doing now, the lying and the toying he's doing with the lawyers.
And somehow... I have to find a solution. I have to come to terms with myself. I have to figure out a way not to hate myself so damn much... I have to figure out how to look in the mirror and see someone I'm proud of looking back, not someone who I absolutely loathe. I have to come to terms with the fact that I can't change my last name until I get married someday. I have to figure out how to be happy again.
But I just dont know where to begin.
I don't know what to say about my dad or even where to begin. He haunts my dreams sometimes, always yelling about something, and I wake just wishing that he was gone. I hate wishing someone to just be gone from my life but it's true. What hurts so much is to be starting this again, to be telling the same stories all over again, to be reliving some of the same memories all over again. With my friends and my family... they know what he did. They know what he did to hurt me and my family. They know all the reasons why I despise the man with every last bone in my body. They know all the horrible things that he's done and said to make me wish he was on another planet. They know why I talk about how I don't really have a dad.
But I do have a dad and I have to talk about him next Friday. I have to talk about his verbal abusive attitude and his hate for everything in the world, and how he would treat everyone in my family horribly and say how wonderful his daughter, Megan, was. I have to talk about how everyone else outside my family couldn't believe me when I told them that living with him was like walking on egg-shells because "your father is such a good man and he seems to love you so much." I have to talk about what he's doing now, the lying and the toying he's doing with the lawyers.
And somehow... I have to find a solution. I have to come to terms with myself. I have to figure out a way not to hate myself so damn much... I have to figure out how to look in the mirror and see someone I'm proud of looking back, not someone who I absolutely loathe. I have to come to terms with the fact that I can't change my last name until I get married someday. I have to figure out how to be happy again.
But I just dont know where to begin.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Author's Photos
I was so excited to open up my email today and find that my Author Photo's from the Night of Writing Dangerously during my November NaNoWriMo experience. I'm still trying to figure out which photo is the best and which I would put on the back cover of my first novel. So, I'm going to post them all here and you can decide!
Monday, January 18, 2010
Getting Healthy
Today, I tried wheat grass for the first time.
My friends from the newspaper are finally all back in town and we have been having a blast together. One of my friends (ironically, the relationship columnist for the newspaper) got engaged on New Years Eve, so we've been trying to spend as much time as we can with her before she moves to Denver in June to be with her fiance. I'm really stoked because, sometime this week, we're going to this place called The Melting Pot, which is a really fancy fondu restaurant. I'll definitely have photos to share of the experience.
One of the things that my friends and I are planning this semester is to try to get fit. I'm taking a rock climbing class at the university on Mondays and we're trying to go to the university gym for zumba (aerobic dancing) several times a week. Of course, getting healthy means eating right as well and getting healthy also means dedication. So, we're going to begin a blog about our experiences and struggles for the next 5 months. I'll link that blog to this one if anyone is curious to read it. It'll be frustrating sometimes, occasionally funny, and definitely educational.
Today's healthy experience involved trying wheat grass for the first time. Wheat grass is supposed to be a cleanser for the system. What did it taste like? Grass. But it wasn't completely horrible. Grass has a fairly decent smell and it sort of tasted the way that it smells. I don't think I'll be doing it every day but... try everything once, right?
Now... if I could get rid of this cold, I would feel ok about this whole "get fit" thing.
My friends from the newspaper are finally all back in town and we have been having a blast together. One of my friends (ironically, the relationship columnist for the newspaper) got engaged on New Years Eve, so we've been trying to spend as much time as we can with her before she moves to Denver in June to be with her fiance. I'm really stoked because, sometime this week, we're going to this place called The Melting Pot, which is a really fancy fondu restaurant. I'll definitely have photos to share of the experience.
One of the things that my friends and I are planning this semester is to try to get fit. I'm taking a rock climbing class at the university on Mondays and we're trying to go to the university gym for zumba (aerobic dancing) several times a week. Of course, getting healthy means eating right as well and getting healthy also means dedication. So, we're going to begin a blog about our experiences and struggles for the next 5 months. I'll link that blog to this one if anyone is curious to read it. It'll be frustrating sometimes, occasionally funny, and definitely educational.
Today's healthy experience involved trying wheat grass for the first time. Wheat grass is supposed to be a cleanser for the system. What did it taste like? Grass. But it wasn't completely horrible. Grass has a fairly decent smell and it sort of tasted the way that it smells. I don't think I'll be doing it every day but... try everything once, right?
Now... if I could get rid of this cold, I would feel ok about this whole "get fit" thing.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Sorry to all this offends...
Monday, January 11, 2010
Publishing
So, I met with a very good friend today and we fell into the conversation of publishing.
I'm very close to being done with the second draft of my book. In fact, if I can just crank out these last ten chapters, I'll be able to start editing. And from there... I'm not entirely sure what I want to do. There's many options. I could try and find and agent and publish that way. I could try and send my manuscript to publishers to see if I could get it published that way. OR I could self publish.
Self publishing is beginning to have an appeal to me. Originally, years ago, I would have never consider the option. Now, it doesn't seem like the other two options are a good idea at the moment. If I self publish, I'll be able to promote the book myself, have family and friends buy it and read it, and hopefully have it start building a bit of a fan base that way. It might be a little pricey in the beginning but, hopefully, it'll start getting a little more rewarding as time goes on.
So, I'm beginning to get revved up for the new year. I'm going to try to do a chapter at least every day (if not every two days) so I can get those ten chapters done in a couple of weeks. Then I'm going to crack down on the editing. Hopefully, if everything goes well, I will have my stuff up in at least 6 months for everyone to be able to buy a hardcopy of. I want to start getting this done. I want everyone to see what I'm writing.
And I'm guessing (right now) that the only way to do that at the moment is to self-publish.
I'm very close to being done with the second draft of my book. In fact, if I can just crank out these last ten chapters, I'll be able to start editing. And from there... I'm not entirely sure what I want to do. There's many options. I could try and find and agent and publish that way. I could try and send my manuscript to publishers to see if I could get it published that way. OR I could self publish.
Self publishing is beginning to have an appeal to me. Originally, years ago, I would have never consider the option. Now, it doesn't seem like the other two options are a good idea at the moment. If I self publish, I'll be able to promote the book myself, have family and friends buy it and read it, and hopefully have it start building a bit of a fan base that way. It might be a little pricey in the beginning but, hopefully, it'll start getting a little more rewarding as time goes on.
So, I'm beginning to get revved up for the new year. I'm going to try to do a chapter at least every day (if not every two days) so I can get those ten chapters done in a couple of weeks. Then I'm going to crack down on the editing. Hopefully, if everything goes well, I will have my stuff up in at least 6 months for everyone to be able to buy a hardcopy of. I want to start getting this done. I want everyone to see what I'm writing.
And I'm guessing (right now) that the only way to do that at the moment is to self-publish.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Weddings, Weddings, in the Air
And in 2010... *drumroll*
So far, there are going to be 3 weddings, one friend got engaged at New Years, one other friend got engaged during Christmas break, and my best friend will probably be engaged by the end of the year.
I keep forgetting that this is the time in my life when all the weddings are supposed to begin, so all of these engagements have come as a pleasant surprise. So far, I've been invited to two weddings and, probably, a third, and spoken with a friend about her bachelorette party. And, I'll admit, I'm a little jealous of all those people who getting to start planning their big white wedding.
I wrote, a long time ago, about the fear. Yes, I am still deathly afraid of marriage. I once was the girl who thought that I would have one of those families where the parents stay together (and I wouldn't have to be going to therapy for a second time.) I mean, while the promise is there when you get married, it no longer seems to be a guarantee in America. And divorce is just horrible. My parents got divorced two years ago and things still aren't over. So why get married when there's that possibilty, right?
And yet...
It's not just the big white wedding (or, in my financial case, what will someday be a very small white wedding) or the planning or the parties. It's more of the theory that even though marriage could turn into divorce, everyone is taking that chance. And, literally, everything with a chance has the possibility of going the way you didn't want it to. Applying to college? I might not have gotten in. Taking classes? I might have failed them. Working at the student newspaper? I could have gotten fired. Or something more basic: driving a car. I could get into an accident.
I guess the real reason why I'm jealous and desire what so many of my friends are doing right now is because of the chance. They all get to take that chance, that wonderful chance, that they are putting so much effort into being good but could potentially turn out badly. I would like to take that chance. I would like to put in the effort and know what I'm going for and heading towards. I would like to someday say, "hey, I took that chance, and now, 30 years of marriage later, here we still are!"
I would like to be the exception. The good of the chance. The marriage that didn't fail.
So far, there are going to be 3 weddings, one friend got engaged at New Years, one other friend got engaged during Christmas break, and my best friend will probably be engaged by the end of the year.
I keep forgetting that this is the time in my life when all the weddings are supposed to begin, so all of these engagements have come as a pleasant surprise. So far, I've been invited to two weddings and, probably, a third, and spoken with a friend about her bachelorette party. And, I'll admit, I'm a little jealous of all those people who getting to start planning their big white wedding.
I wrote, a long time ago, about the fear. Yes, I am still deathly afraid of marriage. I once was the girl who thought that I would have one of those families where the parents stay together (and I wouldn't have to be going to therapy for a second time.) I mean, while the promise is there when you get married, it no longer seems to be a guarantee in America. And divorce is just horrible. My parents got divorced two years ago and things still aren't over. So why get married when there's that possibilty, right?
And yet...
It's not just the big white wedding (or, in my financial case, what will someday be a very small white wedding) or the planning or the parties. It's more of the theory that even though marriage could turn into divorce, everyone is taking that chance. And, literally, everything with a chance has the possibility of going the way you didn't want it to. Applying to college? I might not have gotten in. Taking classes? I might have failed them. Working at the student newspaper? I could have gotten fired. Or something more basic: driving a car. I could get into an accident.
I guess the real reason why I'm jealous and desire what so many of my friends are doing right now is because of the chance. They all get to take that chance, that wonderful chance, that they are putting so much effort into being good but could potentially turn out badly. I would like to take that chance. I would like to put in the effort and know what I'm going for and heading towards. I would like to someday say, "hey, I took that chance, and now, 30 years of marriage later, here we still are!"
I would like to be the exception. The good of the chance. The marriage that didn't fail.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
It's big, it's black, and it's in a home near you...
Today, we bring you a special announcement, straight from Megan's apartment:
My worst fear has been brought to light.
Recently, in the past couple of days, I have notice strange spots on the upper part of the wall and ceiling of my shower. A normal person (who is definitely not me) might disregard these spots but I, on the other hand, have much bigger fish to fry. And, today, upon closer inspection of these spots, my worst fears were confirmed.
The Black Mold.
I am to mold as my father is to shoes. When I was younger, my father had this rule that as soon as my sister and I would wear through the tiny piece of fabric that separates your foot from the sole of the shoe, we would have to get new shoes. Now I wait until there are holes physical appearing somewhere, mainly at the bottom (which would insinuate that, if it rained, water might leak in and soak my feet) until I get new shoes. Rubber is rubber, one piece of fabric isn't going to change that. But my father didn't care. Just as I don't care for mold. Over and over, I used to insist that my mother throw out loaves of bread where the traces of mold might appear. My mother, of course, would throw the moldy piece out, and maybe the once next to it, insisting the bread eatable. I would switch to a different lunch menu and avoid sandwiches until she pulled a new loaf from the freezer. I hate mold. I hate the idea of a living organism growing on my food. I cant stand cheese that still has that weird white moldy outside to it (and people insist that it's AGED and it tastes BETTER, but to heck with them) and the only reason why I allow myself to eat Swiss cheese is because all traces of mold are gone. Call it a character quirk or whatever you will but all I can think of is attacking that black mold. I want it GONE. I want it TO DIE.
So, needless to say, it took all of my nerves to stay in that shower this morning and finish washing the shampoo out of my hair. But, once the last of it was gone, off went the shower and out I flew, away from my biggest terror. Ignoring the fact that if I didn't get to drying my hair, it would look like a 2 year old took a bunch of hair rollers to it in odd angles, I grabbed the first thing I found in my kitchen (multi-purpose cleaner) and set about scrubbing the walls of my shower. Then... was that BROWN MOLD growing on the lip above my shower? I don't think I've ever cleaned the shower so quickly.
You think I'm weird? Black mold is TOXIC! It's a living organism, eating away the paint in your walls and, if you breathe the fumes, you could get sick. You could even DIE. And I, for one, am not about to die because of inhaling black mold. That's what the 60's and 70's were all about.
So now I wait, under cover of darkness, a bottle of multi-purpose cleaner in my hand. It's there. It could be waiting for its next wave of attack. This could just be the beginning.
And I want to be ready.
_____________________________________________________________________________
Note: I just want to let everyone know that I have made an appointment for therapy. I start two Fridays from now and I'm nervous. But I'm going.
My worst fear has been brought to light.
Recently, in the past couple of days, I have notice strange spots on the upper part of the wall and ceiling of my shower. A normal person (who is definitely not me) might disregard these spots but I, on the other hand, have much bigger fish to fry. And, today, upon closer inspection of these spots, my worst fears were confirmed.
The Black Mold.
I am to mold as my father is to shoes. When I was younger, my father had this rule that as soon as my sister and I would wear through the tiny piece of fabric that separates your foot from the sole of the shoe, we would have to get new shoes. Now I wait until there are holes physical appearing somewhere, mainly at the bottom (which would insinuate that, if it rained, water might leak in and soak my feet) until I get new shoes. Rubber is rubber, one piece of fabric isn't going to change that. But my father didn't care. Just as I don't care for mold. Over and over, I used to insist that my mother throw out loaves of bread where the traces of mold might appear. My mother, of course, would throw the moldy piece out, and maybe the once next to it, insisting the bread eatable. I would switch to a different lunch menu and avoid sandwiches until she pulled a new loaf from the freezer. I hate mold. I hate the idea of a living organism growing on my food. I cant stand cheese that still has that weird white moldy outside to it (and people insist that it's AGED and it tastes BETTER, but to heck with them) and the only reason why I allow myself to eat Swiss cheese is because all traces of mold are gone. Call it a character quirk or whatever you will but all I can think of is attacking that black mold. I want it GONE. I want it TO DIE.
So, needless to say, it took all of my nerves to stay in that shower this morning and finish washing the shampoo out of my hair. But, once the last of it was gone, off went the shower and out I flew, away from my biggest terror. Ignoring the fact that if I didn't get to drying my hair, it would look like a 2 year old took a bunch of hair rollers to it in odd angles, I grabbed the first thing I found in my kitchen (multi-purpose cleaner) and set about scrubbing the walls of my shower. Then... was that BROWN MOLD growing on the lip above my shower? I don't think I've ever cleaned the shower so quickly.
You think I'm weird? Black mold is TOXIC! It's a living organism, eating away the paint in your walls and, if you breathe the fumes, you could get sick. You could even DIE. And I, for one, am not about to die because of inhaling black mold. That's what the 60's and 70's were all about.
So now I wait, under cover of darkness, a bottle of multi-purpose cleaner in my hand. It's there. It could be waiting for its next wave of attack. This could just be the beginning.
And I want to be ready.
_____________________________________________________________________________
Note: I just want to let everyone know that I have made an appointment for therapy. I start two Fridays from now and I'm nervous. But I'm going.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
All I need now is an airship...
And maybe a bodice.
Steamcon is in November this year and the boyfriend and I have made it our goal to go. I've never seen Seattle and I've always wanted to go, see the Space Needle and the original Starbucks. Now we have a reason to go. Since Steamcon is so inexpensive, all our expenses will go into driving up there and staying for a couple of days. Yay!
Anyway, I'm stoked outta my head today because I FINALLY got my beautiful steampunk skirt in the mail. It's taken several weeks to get here and I wasted no time trying it on. Of course, this isn't the final project but it's a good start! I'm wearing: steampunk aviator goggles, Jayne Cobb beanie (from the show "Firefly"), brown tanktop, beige steamwheel skirt.
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Steamcon is in November this year and the boyfriend and I have made it our goal to go. I've never seen Seattle and I've always wanted to go, see the Space Needle and the original Starbucks. Now we have a reason to go. Since Steamcon is so inexpensive, all our expenses will go into driving up there and staying for a couple of days. Yay!
Anyway, I'm stoked outta my head today because I FINALLY got my beautiful steampunk skirt in the mail. It's taken several weeks to get here and I wasted no time trying it on. Of course, this isn't the final project but it's a good start! I'm wearing: steampunk aviator goggles, Jayne Cobb beanie (from the show "Firefly"), brown tanktop, beige steamwheel skirt.
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