Today

I feel calm today

Yesterday was difficult but got 

a lot better with the help of my dad

and my husband.

I am calm

but my mouth and foot hurts

and there are no doctors in for a while.

And one of my friends' birthdays is on Saturday,

and that is good.  

The internet works 

and that is good. 

My husbands hours have changed

and that is frustrating 

because less time on the right side of the day

with my best friend is frustrating.

But my room is cleaner and

my head is clearer

and looking for a house is oh so hard

and applying for jobs is frustrating 

And I have over 600 books to read

and all of my stuff is boxed up

and that is good.

And I may reread Good Omens again

because I love the book

and re-watch Battlestar Galactica 

because all of my ROSLIN/ADAMA feels 

cannot be contained

and I'll watch the Fourth Kind with my

husband tonight

because who doesn't like being scared out of their 

minds by creepy demon-aliens?

I am here 

today

Today

Writing about this is so hard.
I'd like to write about how the sun
is shining today
or how I feel a little better
than yesterday
Or how some of my fingers hurt
and I feel like my shirt is too wrinkly
and I'm supposed to be going to the
doctor
but I may skip it because I'm too tired
to drive out to Richmond on little to no sleep
and what I really want to do is
get my car registered
and then go get some Pho.
Yup, my standards are so high.
I also have a decent book
or two
or ten
to read so that makes me
happy.

But
I've been looking through
various and sundry areas of the internet
and I've notice
that there are prolific amounts of resources and
reading material for domestic violence victims and survivors
off all kinds
men abused by women
women abused by men
women abused by women
men abused by men
and children abused by parents.
however
there is very minimal help
for parents abused by their children.

Which is an odd situation,
I know
but what
about
them?
and
what
about their siblings?

Confessions, pt 1

"Oh my God
I am heartily sorry
for having offended thee......"

Just so you know
I haven't magically decided
that all aspects of Catholicism is
mine again, however that has
been in my head all day so perhaps I
shall confess my sins unto Blogspot
Perhaps in hope that someone will
read them and absolve me of all my sins.
Who the hell knows.

I confess
I used to watch Buffy and
Angel and Firefly while I
was supposed to be studying in
school. While Joss Whedon was
a good teacher in how to behave during
high school
 (don't drop your stake in school,
if it turns into a giant snake you should kill it,
 sometimes when you sleep with him, he turns evil,
sometimes they leave, but they come back for prom,
don't build sex robots,
Being evil isn't a forever thing,
Sometimes people die,
Love is like cookie dough,'
Ah, the pitter pat of tiny feet in huge combat boots )
I think I might've done better in that world.

I confess
Bisexual is a word
which is an adjective
meaning sexually attracted to both
men and women
and all through high school I believed
that this was a mythical sexuality
you were either gay or straight
which retrospectively was kind of a silly
view, seeing as I was attracted to both men and women
all through that time, inasmuch as there
are men and women in high school
which for the most part, we were not.
And inasmuch as I was attracted to people
which isn't much, as far as bodies go
for the most part, I just like personalities.
People can be pretty, or ugly, or gorgeous or plain
but a personality can radiate more than any
perfect eyes or flawless lips ever could
and I could tell you much more about the people
that I've wanted
then describing them physically.
I'm not perfect about this
but for the most part
if you are my friend
that is when the attraction comes.

I confess
that I don't know how
many times I've fallen in love
I still love so many people
but I have fallen in and out of love
since I was fourteen and now I am
twenty one
and the list just seem to long
and too painful
and the large hunks of my heart
 that once felt ripped out
are now merely specks and mean
nearly nothing
but memories of love and pain
and so I confess to loving too many
and too much
and forgetting too quickly.

I confess
to the love of the human body
I at times worship at the altar
of smooth skin and hard hands
of large eyes and perfect hair
and I confess, that even though
I don't like my body as a whole
being naked makes it feel so much better.
and I confess that I'd rather see someone
naked than in a Armani suit
or a Chanel dress.

I confess
that sometimes I get so frustrated
that I yell at my children
but in the next 30 seconds
I can turn it around and they
can make me smile.

I confess
that I have not been able to
eat a hot dog since elementary school.
and that I have to avoid Starbucks, because
I get addicted easily, but my favorite time to
get it is Fall, because of the salted caramel
and I love getting it Tuesday nights after singing
with my dad.
that I hate Pepsi
but love Mountain Dew
but love Coca cola products the best
that chocolate makes me depressed
but sometimes I sneak some anyway.
That potatoes and pasta are my comfort
food.

I confess
that when at some point we have a house
I will need half of the man cave. It will
be a woman cave. I need space and quiet
and a place to call my own too.
No special allowances for one spouse,
unless he doesn't want one, in which case
I'm up to take it!

I confess
that my interest in body modifications
isn't simply because I find it beautiful
and fascinating
but because I plan on modifying my body
many times in the future
because I am just now learning that it
is mine and what I do with it has nothing
to do with whether or not I am a good or bad
person.
Prepare yourself accordingly.

I confess
to believing for years that
Purity was important for your future spouse
that sex and marriage was only possible between
a male and a female
that being a lesbian was only for other people's
viewing pleasure
that being gay was bad
that my worth was only held between my legs
but I'm proud to say
that I've never worn a purity ring
and that I stopped believing in all that
years ago and it has been a far healthier
attitude. I still am ashamed that I can even
remember thinking this though.

Dear Dad

Ever since I was little
my dad used to give me the
first or last or middle
sip of his
coke or diet coke
or Dr. Pepper.
Or he'd get home and giving
me the last of his bottle of
whatever soda.
and I have always loved it.
And today when he got home
and I ran into him, because we
parked at the same time
and he smiled at me
gave me a hug
and gave me the last of his Dr.Pepper ten
and it made me remember
all the sodas we've shared.
And all the of the conversations
and it can be pretty fantastic
hanging out with my dad.
We both love animals
and video games
and hellboy
and constantine
and soda (coke for all the texans, hell yea and praise the lord)
and battlestar galactica
and sushi
and pianos
and guitars
and music
and Michelle Branch
and Taylor Swift
and Aunt Darlene
and we both have short tempers
and loud middle fingers when we drive
and we love trucks
and science fiction

I love you Dad

generic day post

These days
I am tired every day
but I am trying to make sure
that my kids are happy
that my husband is happy
that my parents are happy
so the me being happy part
often feels like it is the last
thing on the list

My husband brought
me red roses yesterday
when he came home
for no reason
just because
I wonder what his reasoning
is
but maybe it is just because
and the roses are lovely
and they make everything
smell good

this week has been long
and it will be
until saturday afternoon maybe
but even then
it will be long
because sunday is respect life sunday
and that means mass will be long
and full of pejoratives
about women
and I don't know if I love singing the music
enough to ignore it
my dad told me to go to the bathroom then
which made me laugh
because the idea of taking a dump
while someone is actively telling others
lies
is hilariously horrible
which pretty much sums up
what I might be doing
on sunday


In any case,
at least no one personally tries to
convince me to be pro-life
on a daily basis
my mom talks about it sometime
but not enough for it to be more
than just kind of annoying
which is handle- able
for the most part


long long days

Day Three- To My Parents

Dear Parents,

A new era has arrived, kind of. I am the daughter and the soon to be mother and for the first time, I see us turning into friends. Adult-y friend. That is, by far, the best present I could ever hope for while being in this house. I love that I can ask you for help or talk to you about whatever pops into my mind and not feel embarrassed, or even when I DO feel embarrassed, to get past it, because it has led to some amazing conversations.

Mom, you show me what a good mother-daughter relationship looks like. It involves fights, good books, the occasional movie, tears, dates, talks about boys, hand holding, cuddling, laughing hysterically, therapy, church and respect. Parental perfection is NOT included, but no one cares, because it’s too much fun anyway. I love that I can walk into your office and you make time for me. I love that you support my relationship with my fiancé even when it’s hard to and you always give me the mommy perspective that I need. You have taught me how to cook (I swear, I know more than just noodles) and you share your clothes with me now that I’m all pregnant and whatnot. You don’t make fun of my fat feet and you held my hand during my first ultrasound. I laugh like crazy when I’m around you. I love sharing my favorite books with you because I know you’ll enjoy them as much as I have. You taught me how to slice a mango the right way, how to make the best chamomile tea and that curly hair is ALWAYS better then straight hair. You gave me your tool box. I didn’t inherit your organizational skills, but you help me out with them anyway. I always remember that if your around, my situation become 100% less stressful. I learned to love my body from you. I learned to use contacts instead of glasses from you. I learned to play nice with my little brother from you and I guarantee that the first time I ‘mama bear’ at someone, I’ll have learned it from you.

Dad, you taught me how to sing. My funniest memory of us is me putting my hand over your mouth. I had so much fun driving to school with you my junior and senior year. We’ve had fun exchanging music and Stephen King books. I love how we have a mutual affection for Constantine and Hellboy. Thanks for permanently spawning a lifelong hatred of talk radio in my early years and for teaching me to research and read about politics, not just settle for what the general media tells me. I can’t wait to see you rock my boys to sleep and I can’t wait to go and get my CHL with you when I turn 21. I love how you converted to Catholicism and how that makes you a stronger Catholic. I love how we can get together and bitch and feel better because of it. I love how you gave me my sense of humor, albeit a somewhat morbid one and my ability to defend myself and my love of a good creepy novel.

I love you

Letters to Y'all

Dear ones,

I don’t even know your names yet. Forgive me for not always addressing this letter as a plural; it’s still hard to think of y’all as a twosome even though I’ve seen y’all in the pictures. It’s not so hard to believe I’m pregnant these days, because I’m sick all the time and my body is changing in a bunch of different ways, and I’m even more hormonal, which according to some people is darn near impossible to be. However, I’m sure you’ll see it all at some point, if your daddy and I decide to have more children. Be afraid, be very afraid!
In any case, I’m writing to you because I’m sure at some point you’ll want to know how I was feeling at 13-14 months. Well, you probably won’t care, but I will. And I want to remember how I felt, the good and the bad. And the scary, ‘cause there’s some of that. It’s April 2010. Currently, my cat (which is actually the family cat) likes to sit on my stomach and purr, which makes your dad mad. He has called it stepping on the children and appears to take great offense at it. I personally think he knows you are in there and is saying hello and expressing his love for you! Since apparently EVERYONE is going to want to touch my stomach when it gets bigger, why can’t I let the animal, who I actually like, touch my stomach? Riddle me that!
We have a baby four month old Rottweiler who thinks she’s the queen of the house. She’s very sweet and friendly, and we (meaning my brother, my mom, my dad and me) are trying very hard to train her before y’all get here. I’m eighteen (young, huh?) and it’s pretty scary being pregnant, but I’m blessed with a supportive family and supportive boyfriend (y’all’s daddy) and his family. I laugh a lot and I get really angry a lot but I rarely cry these days, which is frustrating, because there are a lot of times where I think I should just sit down and cry. It would get rid of a lot of pent up aggression and whatnot. I’ve never done drugs and I don’t like alcohol. I love all music, except your dad’s favorite thing to listen to, which is a strange parody band that should probably be wiped off the face of the earth. But I’m not biased. AT ALL. Personally, I like country, alternative rock and hip-hop. And the musical music. Some indie, which is a genre that doesn’t quite make sense to me. Anything I can dance to gets a pass, as well. I like classical if I’m playing it on the piano or guitar. But I was raised on country, including some of the more ridiculously good and I will do my best to help you love my music as well as cultivate an interest in what you like. You’d be amazed at some of the crap people listen to these days, though.
I lose everything. I try to love everyone, even the people that I dislike for no apparent reason. I like silver and don’t like gold. I love driving with the windows down and the music cranked up. I love candy, especially nerds. I love to read and I love the whole “vampire” concept, even though you will be WAY too young for a really long time and probably the whole thing will be out of style by the time you are old enough to understand. I wasn’t very popular in high school, but I had a close group of girl friends, who will be your “aunties” or whatever the hell they want to be called. I promise to try as hard as I can not to embarrass you. I apologize in advance for the hairiness (points at your dad). I apologize in advance for overanalyzing everything, which I am bound to do, if I become a therapist.

I love you both, with all my heart. As terrified as I am of being a mom, I also can’t wait for you to get here!
Until I write next, (tomorrow)
I love you
Your Mom