Wednesday, February 29, 2012



today I had to call the managers, sell more stuff for electric(at this point their really isn't much left I can sell... well that can be carried anyway), and almost resorted to selling my engagement ring... my engagement ring isn't worth very much. -_- pretty much all it's value is to me. My husband broke his wedding band at one point(I have no idea HOW he did it but he did) and I tried to figure out how his excuse could be valid... I mean he had said it just "fell apart"...-.- .... I tried and tried to find evidence of such, and in the end I stuck with his story... I had no desire to figure out how or why he could possibly do such, so I pretended I wasn't really thinking of all the times I found that ring in the garbage disposal while cleaning it, in the littler box while scooping it, and other such places.... thank goodness it never found it's way into the dirty diapers. the point is... well actually the original subject had absolutely nothing to do with my husbands ring whatsoever.

It does however, make me feel like I should be less sentimental about the rings. My wedding band and my engagement ring are not valuable pieces of jewelry... in fact I had to buy our wedding bands... the engagement ring was a little over 30$... it was all cheep. he did at least buy the engagement ring. it was the only piece of jewelry he ever bought me. I feel infinetally stupid for being relived it is worthless to anyone else. I didn't want to get rid of it. I am not ready... I don't think I ever will be at this point.

So I about started crying on the bus... on top of everything and the rescheduling of something important that was to be today... on top of everything going on and everything that I am dealing with... even being asked to do something I am ashamed to admit I can't do... not without harm to myself and that is... it is not easy to deal with the failure I feel over such. how weak must I be? apparently, infinetally.

so yeah... I am pathetic. I can't even get rid of the rings. I am GLAD they were worthless pieces of crap.

I did however realize something most guys with wives dont' seem to. the jewelry is an investment. giving it to the woman means you trust her... because when times get tough... people like me who don't have anything of value... well we are screwed. worst comes to worst, you can sell a good piece of jewelry.

my grandfather makes jewelry. growing up I learned how, though I lack the materials and equipment as of current. lapidary work is pretty fun actually. never learn how to do the diamond type cuts though... he didn't even learn that till a couple years ago. But hey, I know my bead work and he doesn't... so it's a trade off.

I have considered even walking into some sort of college and saying "If I can show you I know what I am talking about, will you give me work pertaining to this?" see... while sewing just seems something like walking... bike riding... sleeping(basically it is something I never give any real thought about it being a skill and don't generally have any idea why being able to sew a zipper on is a big deal or knowing how to alter and make my own patterns... to me it is no sweat so... it kinda ends up surprising me... why shouldn't I know these things?)... I do not think knowing how to shape a stone or polish it just the right way... or how to melt silver into a mold or how to take various pieces and sauter them with the delicate little pieces of silver(about to spell a word wrong) sauter(the first time I did this I messed up BIG time, I thought it was like arch welding)... -_-... wire wrap is also enjoyable... though I have no idea how many know it... beading seems a pretty common skill too. knowing how to take care of the machines and work the diamond saw is also something I am not sure if many know.

I have always been a person to know how to do many things. I get curious and ask questions... I end up wanting to try something for myself... though knitting never worked out for me... croqueting I stick with the pearl stitch... the stuff with yarn ends badly if you have a flashback and don't just know it that well... basically I lose patience after the first few times I have to redo so much. I stick with pearl stitch because that one I can just let myself fall into my little spacing moments and know I will just automatically keep going.

Cooking... I know not everyone can but I pretty much don't really see it as a skill. My mom couldn't cook a can of beans without burning it... we lived. I bet loads of people can make bread without a bread maker, create and memorize recipes... decorate cakes, make yummy goodies in the oven and yummy homemade meals... to me, this isn't something I consider huge. I am aware others can't cook... I just consider it something I can do and like doing. Slow cooking is one of my favorite past-times besides baking.(all of it is actually), but... how is that important?

I can trim a palm tree, lay the tile in a home... even grout the place(my fav pair of jeans of the time got ruined doing that one-ironically the same person who taught me how to sew... refused to teach me anything to do with electric wiring though-lol, she generally works with habitat for humanity when she is down so her skills are put to good use-I am glad she taught me).. I can paint a room... perform minor repairs(just don't ask me to go anywhere dark or containing spiders-your eardrums will not like the results-I had to be girly in something didn't I?)... maintain a sprinkler system(some of this-like this part-was picked up in ffa in high school-I took nursery management every year), perform upkeep on a greenhouse and all it's aspects... the list of things I can do is pretty long... but I don't see how that helps me get a job.

I learned these things because I wanted to, not because I was planning some great scheme of job finding for the future. how is knowing how to cut pbc or use a power saw... or a drill... well how is knowing these thigns going to get me a job?

I have these things I can do and I am only beginning to realize that to others... some of these things are a big deal. To me... they are things I learned just because I loved learning them... and many times I enjoyed doing them as well. I enjoyed the potting shed(actually that was my favorite sides greenhouse-at one point I ended up caring for a fish tank they had as well- *dreamy sigh*... about had a heart attack when they said "OMG! someone found pot in the greenhouse!"-it had started growing as a weed... OMFG!- and in the greenhouse my entomology was actually applicable knowledge... I enjoyed it when people asked me stuff... and I got to identify some stuff and if I wanted to double check and make sure it was right I was fine to do so, and I got to work with plants and nature of some sort... it was the closest I could get in the city. I am nature nerd!)... ah... need to shut up.

the point being...

how does this apply to anything?


Tuesday, February 28, 2012


I didn't expect this.

You are happy around people, but do not do well in confined areas, you love to have breathing room and space to run or stretch. Your family and loved ones are one of your first priorities, because without them you feel cut off and probably unbalanced. You live for the common gathering, but are internally intelligent and extremely wise. You are agile and quick with both your tongue and feet. You love to face hard, and intricate problems head on with all you have, you love the night when your at your prime.
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 hm... I agree with some things and disagree with others.

I tried explaining what I agreed with and what I did not and realized I was taking too much time and... well... I think I have said enough that most can guess if they read through old posts. 

I have given up leaving extremely early in the morning... nothing is open that early around here and the only point it serves is to be calming to take a long walk... because I am weird like that. 

One thing I must state though. when someone asks you the same question and says something to the effect of "so____ then" each and every time you tell them contrary... it is annoying. at that point, telling them an equiv answer to "sure?" or "whatever you say"... is merely me acknowledging that the close minded person who is basically calling me a liar... is also insulting their own intellect and as thus... I will never have to.

See, I am not the type of person who needs to insult people... I believe if you really need insulted, your actions and whatnot do it to yourself but I am not above saying when I see it, and no, I won't say who or where. It was annoying and I didn't like it. If I say who or where it might have repercussions for them and.... that is where I draw the line.

I can only hope that in the future they do not do such. they were otherwise a very nice person despite that one thing... everyone has one thing. It was however, a behavior that I have met with in the past... it has a name for it that I forgot years ago. 

I worked at the "Coffee nook and bakery", I can tell you what city and how old I was. I can tell you around when I got the job and when I didn't have it anymore... I was heavily medicated so I think that is pretty good.
For those ho think stating what she had me doing is complaining... no, except the skirt, the tip snatching, and the not dealing with the customer who wouldn't stop trying to get me to sleep with him. that I completely admit I complained about. the doing more than one person should do in any work place or be expected to do...???? no. I was tired every day, I was too young and stupid to realize what she was doing and how wrong it was, and despite everything... it made me a better server for it. since then I have not had a server job... but I am indeed pretty sure I could do very well in such a position. her previously boasted training successes.. lets just say I know how they got to be so good. That woman expects the insane and should probably have several employees for the jobs she makes one person do. any union would probably shut her down but... I am not complaining. why should i? I could probably walk into any server position and be better at it because of it... plus knowing the insane workload that could be thrust on me... I will appreciate my boss more because they don't(assuming they wouldn't).

I did heavy extra curricular activities and helping in high school. I was heavily into the clubs and volunteer activities. I have plaques and certificates for such so if they are needed for interviews or whatnot... I hope I am told ahead of time. I wouldn't know which ones to bring. I have more than a few. Bringing them all would be a pain... though I am left to wonder if I am capably of such a feat... just out of curiosity of course. Several are proficiency awards. I take my given tasks and do them well and not just well... but with everything I've got so nobody can say I am not a hard worker unless they have proof of such fact. That proof does not exist and of that, I am proud. 

I have been a homemaker for awhile now... some people consider that experience and some do not. I will be blunt. You get no breaks, you get nobody to take shifts, and it is very demanding. you are required to multitask, to get things done efficiently(wreather you are sick as a dog or not)... and you must do all this while putting up with jabs from your significant other and glares from those who think SAHM's are lazy good for nothings who are not worth crap because they do not work. It is not a popular choice in the least but for women nothing generally is. the professional women get glared at too... the point being you deal with intense conflict and have to keep the peace, diplomacy. Also, it was calculated that being an SAHM was equivalent to doing the work of 3 full time jobs(If I remember correctly... "circle of moms" is generally a good site to reference for such information).


Monday, February 27, 2012

the interview

The interview involved me stuttering and trying to answer without either switching languages or losing my ability to answer.

In all honesty, I don't think I got it, but I hope I did.


Sunday, February 26, 2012


I was going to place this in my last post but that seemed inappropriate.

Here is my view on things.

My past is crappy and not bright. It is full of pain and guilt and I would like to believe that nobody once noticed I was suffering... but I am not that naive. I know it was obvious in many ways and have even found out their were those who noticed but did nothing. Therapy never had any effect except to be annoying and repetitive. it is a tool... in of itself it is useless.

therapy did not help me ever. I coudlnt' even accept a compliment or say a single thing I liked about myself until a few years ago... because my baby sister laughed at my stupid jokes and thought I was funny. she said I was nice. one moment did more for me than years of therapy.

before mom died their was a period I refused to speak. I had no desire to even try to pull myself from the endless memory of my father... and merely moved through life like I was simply living because he wished me to. I was very young... preschool age when he died. I was about 6 years old when I finally came out of it. it took years of little things... things that I came out little by little to do just to see my mother and brother smile.

It got to the point where while I still would not speak unless absolutely necessary... and only to my mother and brother. before my father had died I had been very vocal. Papa used to listen no matter how trivial it may have been... from wild make believe to reality even a song or... well anything. My brother came up to me one day while I was being quiet. when he asked me why I was quiet so much I lied. I told him I did not know, that I could not remember... I knew and I remembered quite clearly. every time I said I didn't remember... that I didn't know... every single time was because I didn't want my sweet brother to know. so... every time I swear I didn't know during that time is a lie... every time I have sworn it. I lived with that for a long time, and one day I was still a child and a friend had cried for her father and he came and got her, mama called him... so in true form of a child I cried for mine... first she tried calling her estranged husband(she couldn't find him to get a divorce-but for me she tried), he wasn't able to be reached and I told her who I really wanted... "you really don't remember?" my mom looked strangely happy with this assumption... so I let her have that. after that she stuck with grandmothers story.

anyway, before I went down memory lane at the keyboard... again I was saying, one thing made a drastic change. my brother. he was so sweet... and he had so much innocence in him still... ever fleck of it that had been lost I blamed myself for, as his sister I have always blamed myself for everything... even things that happened when our aunt had him... logic has not mattered in such feelings and I have come to accept they are natural and simply must be handled. He never would have broken that arm if I had been their... because even if I had to of braced him with my own body... I would have. It wouldn't be the first time. so when he told me he hated it when I was quiet... I made a promise. Because of this promise, it takes more than "not wanting to talk" to get me to shut up. to be honest, he recently told me I didn't have to anymore... but I didn't make the promise to him, I made it for him.... to myself.

he didn't know till a couple years ago... when I told him.

the point of this is... it doesn't take a genius to figure out what I am trying to say.

when my husband did what he did and everything got to the point where the healing could begin... it was my children that kept me going.

every smile, every quirky moment... even the tantrums.

in rowans first 6 months of life, nobody knows this of course but I have been known to do it since then, I went in to check to make sure he was real... still their... not a hallucination or a dream. I did it with rohan as well but... not as much as I had adjusted a bit more... but do you want to know why? what could possibly make me unsure of reality when I logically know I do not see anything else?

after my mom died my grandmother got me. not only did I have to bear lies and horrible things said, to be hurt and then hear you did it to yourself or it never happened, you were just clumsy... to have her say things and then say she never said them... that was only half of it. The medications. I would call it torchure and "cruel and unusual" but... I don't think the mental health system or those in it would enjoy it, truth or not.

I got to feel my mind tear, rip... I know things about myself I am pretty sure nobody should know about anyone, including themselves. It made me see things that were not their, an example would be spiders... at one point one made me see my fears. I looked around and even saw my brother crying over my body... just like I did over my fathers. I saw my sister being hurt... I saw the past repeat NOT just in my mind where it belonged... but with my eyes. I saw spiders all around and darkness... two things I have feared since I was a child. the fears themselves would not stay as thus but would warp, it wasn't just that but blood on the walls, the floors... dripping from the ceiling. The spiders I would see would crawl out from everywhere and were by no means small as a normal spider... that one is why I won't watch horror movies involving spiders. for a long time I hated fantasy... because if I read something I would see it if I feared it. I would hear it... smell it... it all depended what medication or group of them I was on. After awhile I simply learned to tell myself it wasn't real and shut everything out... just like everyone did when I tried to tell them medication made it worse... to be honest it got to a point I could not remember what it was like to deal with it any other way... though I knew it had been that way once.

those are possibly some of the worst flashbacks a person can have. when you must harden yourself to ignore the most horrifying images... of people you care about... dying... not just dying... but blaming you... suffering... screaming... pleading with you for help. You cannot help them. it is only a dream seen while awake and perceived with your eyes and held with your ears... but though you know this... even as you walk through it... you still look down and see yourself drenched in blood.

I could tell you some pretty colorful ways to die.

After awhile... it wasn't just that I was afraid my grandmother would really make sure they were dead... it was that caring about someone meant I had to fear their death... which also meant I had to go through it. could you live knowing if you cared for someone you had to see them die every single day?

I did.

So life has taken some adjusting... and they wonder why on medications I have tried to take my own life... most of the time it had nothing to do with simple urge or compulsion caused by medications(though their were a few of those)... it was the things they made me see. telling them the medication made you see things or hear them or anything of the sort didn't get you off of them, it got you put on more on TOP of the same ones... if I was lucky I got a doctor who just didn't like to use a specific medication and would change it without me saying a word.

once i got lucky... not so lucky actually. I saw less and split more... felt more of it too. I could even feel the wetness of the blood... not just the warmth of it on my skin... it was harder to tell myself it wasn't real when it only felt more real... but the imagery had faded a bit so... sometimes that was my only sanity.

let me be clear... while dealing with the things done by those who hail under the name "family" that is what I dealt with so correct me if I am wrong but that is MORE than enough reason for me to wish I had the "right" to heal without the peanut gallery that is the mental health system forcing their opinions on me. we see where their opinions got me before... don't we? at one point I was able to make friends... but I had to ignore their mangled bodies dying horrible deaths... because that wasn't real.

so yeah... when I had my boys I had to check and make sure my eyes had not deceived me... because nothing ever looked so beautiful and precious in my life... and it wouldn't be the first time I had a beautiful hallucination. logic knew they were real but years in that... I had to check. My past isn't pretty. you try letting go of someone when sometimes you end up taking things that make you see your parents... your sister... you try it. it doesn't happen. I avoided zombie movies especially... because after watching them I would see my parents and everyone I love, hear them muttering things... the same hings I heard my grandmother say, the same things I said to myself... "your fault".... "it should have been you"... now I am not sure what being eaten alive feels like in real life but... whatever the feeling I can assure you if that was anything like it i never want to experience it again.

now I am to the point where I do enjoy some zombie movies... like resident evil, and high school of the dead. the later is an anime... I like it more so i can laugh at the silly sound effects and the way they put emphasis on the body parts (clarification: gore isn't funny to me, never will be. the sound effects with the boob bounce and "Sexy" stuff is-yeah... I laugh at that stuff).... because after all I have been through... I am allowed to have an odd sense of humor.

I do still double check what is real and what is not... so far nothing "not". I just check because after so long... it is like a baby blanket to a baby... a favorite teddy. it is... my crutch in life, but I don't check as much as I used to.

I am not a war veteran and to be honest this is the first time I have spoken about much of that... as I have said before, details. I do not usually give them and on the abuse itself... I probably never will. I lived in hell. in fact, as I said... books gave my mind ammo.... now think of what reading the bible must have done?

I have learned advanced meditations that I honestly didn't realize were advanced. I took up hobbies, skills to learn... anything but what I was forced to see and feel. to be honest... I only got through it because as odd as this may sound... I had multiple personalities and I was aware of each and every one. some were nice, some were not... even my mind ended up a battle ground at times... not just "home", their too.I had to let the good ones fade... even though at one point... they were all I had. I know it is stupid and they were just inside my head... but... when I cried nobody was their, they were. when I was sick or hurt or recovering from "home" they were their... I could tell them what I could never tell anyone... so... when they protected me and kept me as safe as possible form things derived from my own medicated mind... I became attached.

could you really blame me?

even if it was only to myself... I loved them... and if I was going to be forced to live in a world where I had no choice but to see such things... then... wasn't I allowed that weakness? because I knew they were not real... accept for one, but she was always their. she did not come the same nor fade the same way... and when things happened and I had to go on medications because some worker ordered me to... she was the first one to return. she feels different... comes from a different place... personally I just think that wherever she cam from...  perhaps like ying and yang she is the tiny spec of my opposite left in my side of the thing... like the simple of such itself. it doesn't matter though... she is gone... still... I do wonder. musing aside... I will never know for sure and thus, that wondering... is a waist of time. the medications just brought her more... to the surface. one doctor refused to treat me... because I am a surviving twin. she isn't their anymore just to let you know... but even though these people were never born... never really lived anywhere but in my mind... my traitorous heart still loves them as if they had been real people.

wouldn't you?

These things... they were not pretty things. they were horrible things.

do I let myself get depressed over it? no.

I can't do that. like wolves to the kill... the mental health system would have me back on medications faster than fly's on shit.

If given the chance... I merely wish to be left to heal. It would be nice if I had family to be here... but I will just have to deal with slower healing... like I said, my sister did more in one phrase than years of therapy.

and wouldn't you know... just by being born and living... my children made me able to stand my own face... and see something... just by looking at me with those eyes... their pureness is what makes me feel something i do not otherwise feel... clean. it is a different kind of clean... being raped it is natural to feel dirty. no amount of bathing can make it go away either. they are little miracles... I love them.

in truth I don't think I could handle the world medications thrust me in... not again... and not knowing that they would be among those I would have to watch die... over and over again. you would think knowing it is fake decreases the pain from it... but it doesn't. in your heart, even if that person is standing in front of you... it still hurts as if they are actually dying or dead... makes you wonder if they are really alive.

this time... I would probably carve out my own heart as even the idea of them facing such a fate hurts with near unbearable pain(at least being alive proves I have bore it and not given under it).. I have no plans to take my life... I simply know myself. that pain would be too much... I couldn't... and if I tried... it really would drive me insane. their is no way to cope with that... not for me.

off of medications I have no such things. I have ptsd... anxiety... but that is to be expected.

I have a stable and steady record of being such for over two years... as I did not receive records from before that... I do not know for sure. they have a habit of not being honest about that stuff and I find... I am not sure I wish to know.

so for me... even knowing what I would face... I did what I was told by the social worker. she of course is neither a trained professional in any other capacity(that I know of) nor a good worker who doesn't shirk and do a horrible job of her own work and even stoops to fraud... but of course that will never matter to anyone else. I was already told that even in court it wouldn't matter. I am just glad it was something that only made me see myself hanging from various places... made me have impulses... and made me start to split again... because if it had been like before... even a hallucination of my children's bodies would have had my blood on her hands. I believe the actions we take make us partially responsible for the reaction... so by doing shotty work and ordering me to do what I TOLD her would not have good results... by forcing me to this by holding something precious above my head... yeah, if I had died I would say it would be entirely her fault... her and the psychiatrist who unethically prescribed it after so long of me proving that i didn't need them.

so yeah... I hate the bitch.

any kindness I have done or tried to do for her... is because I love them. I will not get into the habit of spitefully acting against another because I love them and... further... what kind of example would I be?

I hate her. I do not think my cat is a person and I have a long standing record saying blatantly I have no dillusions, hell... the record of me supposedly saying I did doesn't even exist. I never said it. Now I have been asked if I did... after a call made where he talked to my roommate outside... I also told him no, kept on asking and I kept on saying no. I was really wierded out by the question. he was called on routine theft and vandalism. after I gave her notice my roommate was acting out. I gave her notice for a reason.

I suspect she was the reason he even asked... not really a horrible concept as he spoke to her outside before asking me... I am happy to say, no, but I am not happy to say... how am I supposed to prove that?

I can give you details on what I have seen in the past... but... humoring these people will only cause trouble.

my life is no longer someones toy... well for now perhaps it is. let me correct myself then.

I do not want to be their toy... because when you have no rights and only a peace of paper that says you do... what else can you be called but a toy? why else do people play with other peoples lives than to entertain their delusions of grandeur and to play god with you as their toy?


PS: no, I am not on court ordered treatment. by all rights it should be my choice.  you would be surprised what has been done and said in the past to get me not excersize that "voluntary" status to leave... now that I am at a place(I go to a site-live on my own) that has made no threats to such... I am in a position where it has been made clear they will forever make sure something precious is out of my reach... you do the math.

you may find... their are some things in my life that are horrifying to others... yet while I have had to keep back tears while remembering... let me be blunt. I have barely scratched the surface and because I don't think anybody else can handle it... chances are I will never go any deeper than that.

talking about the past... tends to get those who wish to "help" a bit uppity... "I think you need help for grief" no... I need help getting away form all this help.

their is a difference between constructive help and destructive help and the fact of the matter is... some things are just better left alone. constructive help... OK, but what is constructive for me... is not the therapy and crap other do. I need time... a job... my family... some wounds in life... just need the simple things. the simple things are indeed... the best thing in life.


I have a job interview on Monday.

I hope I get it... I will work hard and do my best if I do.

I have been told do dress in puzzling ways...... make up, nail polish, heals(actually they are boots and were my idea but they said as long as the boots were nice.... hey they are practical, not something you usually fin in heals of any kind), my black jeans are supposed to be OK... and as long as I wear an undershirt my purple shirt is supposed to be nice enough(that was my stipulation as without any undershirt my bra is visible.... no way in hell is that acceptable to me).

The cosmetic instructions are what puzzle me. Why make my hair look bigger and more poofy if that isn't acceptable for the job itself? Why pain my nails if gloves would be needed over the nail polish if I got the job? the nail polish isn't something anyone wants chipping into their food.

I have also been told before to dress ready to work... but how is poofy hair and nail polish or even make up anything but possible things to end up being hazards?

I just noticed too... my old food handlers card is out of date.

the above is a link to a resource for such. from the looks of it I would have to go after the interview... and I would have to sell some stuff to get the money for it... they made it more expensive than last time.

hm... I could also get serve safe certified too.... I still have my old serve safe book and most of it is common sense to me.... as long as I brush up it should be easy....  not as easy as the food handlers test but as far as I know it isn't supposed to be as easy... it shows advanced knowledge rather than basic.... I wonder if that would be OK with them.

I don't really know what exactly they are hiring for.... but... I will work hard whatever it is and being certified will just make it less of a struggle to do my job to optimum efficiency. I never went to get my serve safe cuz it was more expensive... but I have had my food handlers. I had to for my waitressing job those years back. it was probably stupid of me to not look at the date.... or make note of how often it should be renewed... but I will have to retake that test... hm... will have to re touch on the material even if only for peace of mind.

Even if it doesn't make much sense, I will wear what I was told to... I do not want to send a message that I do not want the job after all. I hope I get it.

I bet someone out their is snickering at my seriousness. The job is at a fast food restaurant... I won't say where but I will say on Monday. The hiring manager seems nice as well. OMG... what if she reads this and thinks I am trying to butter her up? omg.... OK, clam and deep breath... gosh I am so nervous.

on a side note I wore my outfit on Friday as instructed... had to wash it today but on Friday I took it out of the laundry basket as they asked to see it(and yes they knew it was coming out of the laundry basket), and the entire time I could smell how much I stunk and was thinking " oh my goodness I bet I can be smelt across the room!"

Their was this seat on the bus I wouldn't sit because the pole that ran down the middle... I am short and my knees are still sore from being swollen a bit... so that would be a bad spot for me as my fat ass would have to deal with my knees being pressed against the bar. when I agreed to sit in a seat that was offered by a man I was so self concious about it... the ladies on eather sides of those seats had been previously chatting nicely... then they were completely quiet. "OMG! they must think I am racist!" they were black ladies.... and I am well... not. now I was uncomfortable sitting close to anyone but I didn't jump up because I didn't want to seem rude anymore than I already had(well in speculation as I really have no idea what was going through their heads beyond my own self consciousness-I am used to being around racists-I hold the same belief their as with religion that as long as you don't hurt anyone I don't care what you believe, they just learn not to project that belief on me and we are good, what good would it be for me to discriminate on them for beliefs even if I don't agree?- and those who assume you are one... to the degree when my brother JOKED about it I about jumped down his throat-to joke about it isn't funny in any respect, especially since at the time I was pregnant and while my brother was trying to cheer me up with odd statements... my son is part Indian in blood and my brother joking about such things regarding the one who raped me... wasn't funny as my son is an innocent child and well... lets just say while his intent was to crack a joke to cheer me up a bit and make me laugh... I had enough anxieties regarding enough things with our blood family that... that one was anything but funny-if he ever becomes one I do NOT want to know-on the phone about it-not funny especially with the double standards society generally has on the subject-basically most forget that the person who is colored who refuses to sit by the person who is white for the same reasons that would make a white person classified as prejudiced... are also the same, merely more socially accepted as such). needless to say it wasn't funny... though I am pretty sure I said it. eventually I just ended up standing and hoping that nobody could smell those awful dirty things... I hope it was just my sense of smell... they say when you can smell yourself it is bad... but I start to be able to smell myself pretty quickly... so... does that mean I always stink?

my brain is a scary and very complicated place... full of self consciousness and all that fun stuff.

like anybody else I do care what others think... just for different reasons than most.

I care... more because I don't like it when people are uncomfortable... though when someone deserves it or I have to... I am able to... I just don't like to so when I don't have to... I fret about the stuff others don't. It doesn't help that when I was a kid I made the mistake of letting the kids in school hear my heritage(mutt) from my mouth... I was proud of it. in that list was "German"... Scottish, English, supposedly a tiny drop of Jewish blood in their(not like it shows)... Irish... Swedish... the list is pretty long. my mom had told me both sides of our family(well she told me what she knew of my dad and what she knew of hers) and I didn't know the social backlash, I was just proud to know it. I was in kindergarten... I didn't know English and German(the German mostly) were considered things the other kids would put me down for... anything I did in school was bad to them because of it... they called me "Nazi" and put me down for being white... not all the kids did but enough of them did where one day I went home and told my mom "mommy, why didn't you make me like them?" I hated being made fun of... so yeah, as society generally accepts that kind of behavior(the teacher never got on their cases much either) I grew up with that kind of thing... it does the same thing to little white kids as it does to the "travesty" that is when little black kids try to bleach their color away. personally I think focusing on being sensitive to only one group is stupid as now that I am older I accept that everyone bleeds and feels emotions and is human.

as for why I dye my hair, it isn't connected to that. my hair is a color light enough that many consider it blond and some say it is brown, I dye it because not only do my eyebrows not match it(I have no idea why but generally they never have-got made fun of for that too) but my face is shaped in what apparently makes me look young... most people don't take me seriously at first glance and I have been asked many occasions... "what school do you go to". now I am just fine the way I am... it took a long time but I am... I just dont' like others assuming I am THAT much younger. perhaps I will like it later in life.... but for now it is just plain annoying. I need to be taken seriously. I am... omg... I just realized my birthday is next month.... I hate my birthday. nothing good ever happens on it or around it. the month of march has never been my month. my "sweet sixteen" I got raped and besides family friends I wasn't allowed to have anybody over(anything at all was a blessing though as my birthdays were generally not celebrated events-that woman always made sure I knew she thought I should never have been born... if i hadn't been born she though my mother would have continued to live how she wanted her too... it was my fault my mother stopped skating... my fault my mother fell in love... my fault... so the day of my birth has never been a huge deal for any form of celebration, merely an obligation on sparse tradition-though two years ago my husband made me a cake... the year after he forgot it all together and about kicked himself for not remembering... the year before both I was dating an asshole who, guess what? left to go celebrate it with his mother and left me alone... and their we have it-I will not be dating again, one was a dick and the other was a dick after we got married). basically... my birthday generally has a very bad history. nobody really cares about it so... chances are I will just hope I find a job that won't mind if I work on my birthday. better than most birthdays I have ever had... except one.

my grandparents had canceled my birthday completely one year... so this family I frequently was over their house at(I rode the church van, went to choir, and Sunday school-their family drove the van and most had permission to stay over a couple hours if they went to choir-so while much happened in bad in that church... some people were nice and that will never be forgotten either). I walked in and thought the balloons were for a girl who was friends with her girls... her birthday was the day before. I was actually about to walk out back and mope and wonder why I wasn't loved and had to be such a "cursed child" as I was told... but they all yelled surprise. once my heart climbed down from my chest and I finally realized really what was happening... not even a beating from the worst imaginings or the most horrifying person ever could have wiped that grin from my face. that was the first time I had felt such happiness... in longer than I care to think of. not even when my brother had visited had I smiled like that... I don't even think I did it often before mom died... but... I hadn't smiled like that since before she died. I remember... when papa was around... I smiled like that. now my kids are the only ones who can make me smile like that but... it is a good memory... that day was shadowed only by the fact I knew at least one of those girls would rather choke on a toad than be anywhere with me smiling... it was shadowed by the fact it would have to end... but I can honestly say that for once in my life... since my mom died, I smiled so much my face hurt but I was so happy it didn't matter.

I have a picture and I used to look at others... they always make me wonder... how that smile ever fooled anyone because from where I sit... it was obvious. after that though... I think some began to realize... just how many of my smiles were fake. I wasn't happy. the world sucked. I went through hell and blamed myself for death and pain that I can honestly say I have no idea how I could have stopped... and my entire life was shadowed by those who wanted to medicate me so i smiled so they wouldn't say I was "depressed" when in reality... I simply had no reason to smile. I managed small smiles that were not fake of smiles that were half real... to this day when I am nervous I smile just out of habit. I am good at smiling when I don't want to.

that one day... I even forgot to dread going home. it may not have been for very long... but i did. I even forgot the mean face the choir instructor made at me at times... or... well... I was just happy.

this year... their is only one thing that could possibly make my birthday happy... and I know it will not be possible so... I will just find something to focus on and throw myself into it... like every other day.

I have said before my life is hell right now... nobody needs to know why or how but it isn't hard to guess. the only thing that would make me smile like that is my kids... and that isn't going to happen so... their you have it.

I hate march.... if something monumental and bad is going to happen... it always happens in march... if it doesn't... still more crap happens in march.

that scars me. their isn't much more that possibly could happen at this point.

I will just keep doing my best and hope it will be enough... because obviously my best isn't good enough for... just for those I am dealing with right now.

excuse me... thinking of those things made me cry... I cannot think of happy times right now, all they do... it remind me just how bad the present is.  not hard to avoid those times anyway. they were not... common for me... home was never a happy place with my grandparents. one might even say that if home is where your heart is... my heart simply received too many bruises to attach to the place I received them.

I hid them, didn't want anyone to know, even was made to believe I deserved it... I had my mothers face.

I wonder if my grandmother ever realized who's face my mother had.

I know what abuse is... I didn't know then many times as I had simply been used to it... desensitized to it.

I have not gone to get the restraining order altered yet... my first priority is getting into classes of the sort I as told to... apparently they are supposed to help me break the cycle... regardless that had nobody interfered I would have left much sooner than I did. if I had done so... maybe I would never have had to get between him and my little boy.... who knows. regrets are useless things... but yet everyone has them. all people can really do is live with as few as possible.

if those here will please excuse me...

I need to go.


PS: that is what happens when i am near a keyboard and my brain goes down memory lane-not the brightest and most cheerful place I have ever been lol?). I will be 23... so yeah, I suppose I am young... just not as young as people generally assume. while this may be a blessing later on in life... at one point I had to explain I had "graduated" and then was asked what high school I went to... that was when I decided the hair needed dyed. when your about 4 months pregnant, 20 years old, and being mistaken for a grade-school-er(this had happened before too)... it is time for a change. So yeah... I said about all hat more because some people also assume it is because of race stuff. I was asked by a psychiatrist if I was dying my hair because I was ashamed to be white.... personally I think he just had an issue with me "dying that pretty blond hair black"... ug.... you would think that would be my decision and not his... gawd.... one of these days i will stop explaining so damn much. oh crap... the reminds me... I gotta practice not rambling nervously in the interview... oh crap! wait... what if I get so nervous i start speaking in japense... omg, what if I start speaking Spanish... omg... what if I can't speak and start going into ASL... because the language stuff happens to me... omg! what if I end up able to make sound but not able to form coherent speech? shit... because I am just one of those people who worries about that stuff.

Friday, February 24, 2012


I have found that arguing with people about what they said is a moot point and a win less argument.

I will simply put, just keep my recordings of phone calls and should things ever get "legally messy" as I call it often(mostly to myself) I have said recordings. if nothing else it proves a history of lack of integrity in the "company"... in this case... a college.

I have been attending, and I don't intend to transfer so when this place keeps calling me and bugging me about it, it is pretty annoying... especially since I have heard "OK, we will take you off of our calling list" about 3 times already. I hear that same phrase when they call for someone named "Anthony" as well as this females name...

anyway, the point is, getting calls that are not for you from companies that are apparently convinced otherwise(how can they live here if I don't know them and have no idea who they are talking about-they don't even give anthony's last name-one more thing, I REALLY hope it's NOT the one I did know... already once had a gf make a fraudulent call pretending to be me... so I must confess I would not be surprised especially considering what my god-sister told me about him texting her saying he knows where I live months ago... almost a full year ago actually... oh shit-it was over a full year ago-0.0-wow... time fly's).

anyway... that's the type I dated... actually if I was smart I wouldn't have but... we were both what is considered "impaired" at one point and being the "good girl"... I felt obligated to date him after that. I mean... their wasn't exactly much else we could do at that point. I mean... once you have their really is no going back. actually... that one time wasn't so bad... and of course I fell for him.... hard... it really didn't help that I had done so before the incident with the impaired judgment... I told him me and that drink didn't mix well... two emotionally strained people in the same room BOTH either near tears or IN tears already... recipe for disaster if you ask me... though to this day I don't regret it. why regret what you cannot go back and change?

the fact of the matter is... in the situation I doubt I would have done things differently. NOW I would... I would be able to push the person away and not do that... but not then. *shakes head* funny how that goes... but when he wasn't going crazy on me he was actually quite kind... not the brightest bulb in the box to say the least but... to me... that didn't matter. so having been raised to believe that love held the power to do anything by my mother(until she died) I was highly disappointed when the acts of his "other"(after awhile that is what you refer to that wreather or not it is true) were not such acts of anything but anger, hate... control. he himself mostly hangs on fake makes... but most people do. strangest thing... I find it ironic that even after all this time... I still could sit int he same room with him and point out exactly when he is putting on his "bullshit" face. his bullshit face is also his "gaming" face. This is also the face he wears when he tells a story that has no founding in reality but he would often call his history. some of his history does actually have founding but... well... not even half of his history was true and I knew it. I mostly waited for him to tell me... and in time he did. not all but... most. when my husband asked for this persons secrets... for what was truth and what was not... I simply told him "they are not my secrets to tell".

I was raised where I had to draw attention to myself to draw abuse away from another and take it. in my adult life I have also run across situations with the same choice. their was a girl in mesa... I noticed the bruises and lived with her family. CPS had already been out due to the living conditions, the lack of food, the lack of the mother being home, and the reported stuff beyond that I dont' know. the mother talked about the report but I still don't know the rest... and no, I didn't call. what good would it have done anyway? despite the fact their was feces on the ground and whatnot... this place was bad, and guess who had to do her best to CLEAN it? me. right. oh it wasn't fun that is for sure. NOT! omg ewe. anyway, the sister had marks, bruises... and the brothers "best friend" and his "friends" who lived their off and on were often.... guess what? responsible for said marks. Now I apparently look stupid because I was apparently not supposed to notice so... I dealt with it in the only way I knew how considering not even her mother paid enough attention(and even if she did I doubt she would have said anything)... I made myself a target already knowing I could take a beating and keep their attention on me long enough to give her some peace and maybe even the illusion that they would be nice to her.

I never told her. She never knew... but... at one point I became very sick... not really a surprise considering that place has enough black mold to be considered a health hazard(and black mold is poisonous and I am allergic to fungi period... so... after months of living their lets just say my health declined very very quickly and involved many many visits to the local hospital in which they always ask "is their any reason it isn't safe to go home"-like hell I was going to tell them no, if I didn't... would they go back to hurting her?)

I woke up more than once being touched... got beat up by said culprit girlfriend for "lying", then she decided to slip me a drink that I honestly suspect was spiked(though I doubt they knew slipping me highly concentrated liquor could have killed me-my sensitivity to such is so strong that in a couple of gulps I was nearly unconscious FROM the alcohol... I would not have drank it if they had gotten me fully awake to begin with... my fault for telling them about my early life and how taking whatever I was given while half asleep had been drilled into me), then after slipping me said drink they brought a very drunk friend I knew in the room... you can guess what happened next... though even drunk it seems he knew I was impaired and help some tiny shred of honor... then later I was honest and got beaten for it... because the ones who did such denied it was possible for me to get even "tipsy" off of the amount given. to this day I suspect it was spiked... though I was later witnessed(after my husband and roommate insisted I at least TRY an alcoholic beverage) to actually get near too drunk to stand by myself with only a few sips of an Irish alcoholic beverage... I honestly don't even remember the name.

long story short... I can't drink. I maybe of age(past it actually) but I will never be able to drink. I should also note that I was actually well under the drinking age when they slipped me that bit in mesa.

I have no intention of ever going back... I saw pretty early on that the girl didn't realize what I was doing... I was trying to give her a chance to see kindness and a life without being beaten before she was old enough to go out into the world. her brother was a lost cause... as bad as those he associated with, though not at first glance. when he assaulted me.... I.... couldn't stay. I had tried and I knew it would do no good. the stupidest reason too(not that their was a good reason)... I had a friend named Artemis(her nickname along with others as well) and we were close. she didn't give up her virginity to him... our features have similarities though to my knowledge we hold no relation(I get that lots... my god-sister is even more scary similar), so basically I got raped that time because I held a resemblance to a dear friend. The irony is I suspect her later assault may have been for those same similarities... rape is an act of anger and hatred, not sex. He was angry with me... not her(not that I ever knew of unless he was getting really possessive over his friend-then yeah, completely capable-when he gets angry his rage consumes him and manifests into this "other" him... so a psychotic mess with pent up anger that finds a way to get out by harming others... and he wondered why I left). As for the comment about him getting possessive about his friend... Artemis was engaged to his best friend.

it isn't a nice feeling to know that if you had reported it and gone against a single police officers advise their would at least be a record for a judge to go off of regarding such. she would be able to do something about this... stupidest thing ever(well to anyone but myself I suppose)-I blame myself. It doesn't matter that I didn't do it because I was pregnant and knew stress was bad, doesn't matter that I would choose my child again knowing I would have miscarried had I done so and for my little attempt to get "justice" would have lost a precious little boy who is now very much a sweet child who is purely himself(I treasure my son and believe bother religiously and in my heart... a child has no say in how they are conceived and thus is a gift from a bad situation in such cases. as a gift, it is ones choice to choose to hold said gift close to your heart and treasure them.. raise them well... or refuse such a gift. I believe my son will be purely himself... not the one who hurt me-I do not believe a child should pay the price of the choices adults make and when I look at my son I see only his face- even though at first I was terrified I would become a bad mother who only saw the face of my attacker-of someone I once held close to my heart who attacked me). basically... my little boy is very sweet and even tries to help take care of his brother... it is adorable and cute and even when either of my boys does something I dont' approve of their are times I can't help but laugh or at least smile. usually the message gets across regardless... but how can I do anything but when it is obvious the intent wasn't to do wrong... he is 2 years old. He gets little ideas in his head and goes with it and his brother follows(sometimes vice verse which is kinda... I didn't expect that-but it is plausible to expect as they are so close in age-hm... something mommy didn't consider....-_-").

children do in fact have this uncanny ability to be different than their parents and make their own choices in life... so someday I hope both of my dear ones can do that.

as for my history of abuse... I also have a history of progressively improving my level of NOT tolerating it and would have left the moment I figured out how to after it started with my husband. A social worker "strongly suggested"(insisted really) that I stay. I had plans to leave that very weekend if she hadn't. If I had to, me and the boys would have gone to a shelter... because no abuse is OK.

My history is just that, history. to learn from it and hope others might learn from it... is no crime.... not that I know of anyway.

nobody should ever look at my children and see the actions of the past, and if they do so help me... I will make the time my mother made that gym teacher defecate themselves(whatever she said must have been scary but half the class was outside that door trying to hear it... that's what they got for poking jabs at us and what he got after we went home looking like whipped puppies because a TEACHER was bullying us), look like child's play... but I will do so just as calmly as she did. basically... I have no idea what I could do but... the very idea makes this cold urge go through my body... I know I will hate them.

I often went through much because I look much like my mother(ooo again with the "similar face" thing-see a trend?) but it was the one who put her through the most that didn't even realize my mother had HER face.

out of all those who have hurt me I must confess that besides the social crap about caring what you look like, the fact that even though she is dead I can't avoid seeing her in my face... it why I hate mirrors. the irony is that I in no way see her or anyone BUT my children in my children's faces... but I hear they look like me.. and I can pick out some stuff when I look at my own face... but... though it makes me wonder a bit I don't think I should look this "gift horse in the mouth"... it is obviously a gift not everyone has.

with long hair I look more like my mother... with short hair I look more like my grandmother... with VERY long hair I get to remember this time I was raped using that hair against me... and bald? yeah... no. I actually like having hair thank you. so... I just have to deal with it. I will not get a perm though... though it would indeed get me away from my grandmothers look to come degree... my mother got a perm.... and while my mother was awesome(and admittedly would be far better to visualize when looking in the mirror)... I am my own person.

besides... my family has issues with that stuff.

like hell I am going to even attempt to ask my grandmothers family for help either... not after the stories she told me... not after what I saw of her. while I do believe awesome people can come from horrible situations... call it a double standard but I also believe something had to make her that way... people do not twist into evil that badly on their own. as I don't know much and what i have heard is only about them... true or not it is all I have to go off of. though... they seem pretty nice on Facebook. hm.... guess I just don't want my fantasy version of them shattered. my fantasy version of them is family... yeah, I have a fantasy about this weird family reunion and have ever since i was little... it so didn't help when I realized I had never seen even half the people in that dream and now I have seen them(well only a couple of them and on Facebook no less!-you would be a bit freaked out by that too... I have never seen these people before... my grandmother never let me see the photos of her family so their is no logical reason for me to have ever known what they looked like...)... so weird. very very weird... even worse is that it makes me wonder what other dreams could come try... makes me think of this one I have had since I was little where I fly... people don't have wings and they can't fly! it is fun to imagine though... still... even if I could I am afraid of heights... no short jokes regarding that please.

perhaps one day... I can take the kids to some weird event I heard of in Scotland. my grandmother may have been a Shoesmith... but I am a proud Campbell and so are my children. my husband didn't even want to share his last name... imagine that... but... I don't know if that name matters to others. I am proud of my name because despite the dishonor I associate with it... it was indeed my mothers name and she was indeed... a very beautiful and bright light in this world. she had her faults but... doesn't everyone? she did her best and for that... I do not find any reason to hold her mistakes against her. she was my mother. I am me. besides... I realized years ago her examples were an abuser and someone who turned the other way... so I already know that just by that one time she noticed and got to me... even if she hadn't gotten to me in time... she saw what she was doing mistake wise and was fixing it for us... because she wanted better. That was mom. she once asked someone if it was possible for us, her kids, to break the cycle... because it takes 3 generations(we were listening in around the corner... a habit of mine and my brother growing up... those steps and the idiocy of adults to underestimate the intelligence of children-never underestimate your opponent, especially when they are a child who knows how to avoid the squeaky step and listen quietly)... you know... she wasn't the type to give up so easily.

mom did amazing things by that determination. Our baby sister was supposed to be akin to produce(the doctors said she would be a vegetable and never walk, talk of do anything)... so mom worked with her to change that. I am very proud of my sister, wherever she is, and even had heard many times from her grandmother Claudia that she was a very good student with good grades and her sweet character had brought her good friends who cherished and loved her. she was a girl loved by many... personally I think she got moms smile too... lights up a room. I still have the crochet bracelet she gave me... doubt she would believe me though. so yeah... I kept tabs on her... but I didn't want to interfere as I was told she had heart palpitation's when upset... so if I had let her get attached to me and for some reason was rendered unable to call her.... it could have killed her. at the time I made this decision I was basically a "street rat" for lack of a better way of putting it... my situation was not stable and the best choice was that one. I must admit... to this day that decision bothers me... but I suppose if she wants to know me... I am not really hard to find at all... though... her father is the one who took her... I was never told much about the legalities but I was told who she was supposed to stay with and he also admitted to knowing when he called to brag about it. My sister apparently hadn't been to the doctor in years from what Claudia said... and her intelligence in school was great though apparently her last school had kinda just tucked her in the back and wrote her off.  no sister of mine deserves such. I was also made to swear I would not tell her she was an aunt... I was told it would upset her. I really wish I could have told her... Claudia even said she wouldn't be allowed to attend the wedding either.I wanted her to be in said wedding... yeah obviously never happened. I hope she is well wherever she is. she is a walking proof miracles happen.

my brother... it hurts me that neither of them ever wish to know each-other or hold any interest in such. I would often try to get them to care but... she has enough half brothers to not be interested in having a brother(I am her only sister-well besides the one that is dead but that is besides the point as since she is dead... well... nobody living can ever meet and know her), but... I think they would get along rather well. chances are Alex would be all dorky and protective... probably would teach her money come to think of it(his obsession is saving money), and dezi would... well from what I know of her she would probably be sweet to it and he would grow on her and her on him... and I can also tell you that while my brother is so capable of leaving me be in bad times to stand alone when he is on the other side of the continent(or country-whichever word you prefer-it is both after all)... I know my brother in one respect. he met one ex on a trip down here and threatened him. now I look back and laugh... "your brother threatened me" well what did he expect? my brother was acting as a brother and informing him that hurting me had best not be on his agenda in any possible future... to me that is how brothers, fathers, even close male friends SHOULD be... while females can be strong... well... I dunno... maybe they shouldn't always have to be is what i think... should be a choice but unfortunately it isn't. Females were given more to deal with in life on many leaves than males... so... in this i have a double standard... not that I think women should just be weak but merely that I think the choice to lean on another(male or female) should not have such social evilness attached to it. stay at home moms get beef for not being professional women and "contributing to" the image of such being the norm, working women get beef because of various reasons connected to gender, but of course men who stay at home get "oh I wish my husband would do that" type reactions and men who work are simply accepted as such as "supposed to be".

women who sleep around are called sluts. women who don't get called prudes or "frigid"... their are several varieties of names for women on every angle and on the front of women we are all dubbed :too skinny" or "too fat" or "too normal" and the list goes on.... it is like cattle. the system plays favorites to fathers rather than mothers.... society does such as well... one outcry from one person and it is all favoritism because they are afraid to discriminate.

screw political correctness.

when a man abandons his family(or children) he should have no rights to it as he isn't a man. I have never denied my husband ability to see the kids or whatnot but neither do I think anyone else should have the say so to force him to be involved. he left of his own accord, refused begging and pleading that he be a father(even if he was a crappy husband)... that choice should be left up to me as after so long of him NOT being involved of his OWN CHOICE... in my eyes he only proved he was not one merit of a man... because I consider one who harms or leaves a child.

my husband made his life a cliche of a country song by choice. nobody made him do it and nobody "kept" him from seeing the kids. he is just a control freak who if he couldn't just "show up" any time of day(and yes the restraining order means plans do have to be made first and that he can't just show up and decide to force his way in to harm anyone or any such actions)... so he walked out entirely.

he was supposed to come last week to get some of his crap... he said he didn't want furniture and if anyone asks and has a need to see it(as my husband has a habit of lying-I am not the first female with a child he has claimed as his own and helped raise only to leave, he is a repeat offender and she also did not keep him away, he chose that path-actually I encouraged him to go see the child... he acted as his father for well over the amount of time the law requires-I even told him about something I read about how she could sue him for child support as he is the "psychological father" of her child... helped raise him for quite some time... not sure if I should point this out or not but if that is wrong oh well, I read it and if it is wrong... might wanna tell those who wrote it) I have that email saved.

as he said he didn't want anything else but such and such crap... while he has quite a bit of stuff... he doesn't have enough for a moving truck. so after I told him he needed to give me a time and tell me WHICH day that weekend(he is supposed to have an officer escort him to retrieve some stuff) and a general time so I could make sure I was here(I also told him I would even place the items outside and watch them to keep them safe-he is not entering my home as no matter who is with him... I cannot handle it at this time-I just got that feeling of safety back after what he did... his presence will make this single sanctuary more hell than at present time it sometimes serves as due to things of which I cannot speak-as I have been advised not to-I am honest... it is the choice of others to take it or leave it and even to ask for proof or not-actually many times the proof thing has a lot to do with religion... I can't stand it but... it is indeed better than those who assume for whatever reason-you ever been told that because Simeon else is of one faith and you of another that you automatically "must" be lying to them and trying to make them follow some evil dude... UG! it is disgraceful and annoying... but of course I apparently am not supposed to talk about that... it makes me "sound" bad... so if being honest makes you sound like a liar or crazy... how is this world ruled by goodness?). .....

If I was meant to be normal I would have been created normal. if normal it self was meant to exist, it wouldn't just be some vague term meaning what is SOCIALLY ACCEPTED but would have solid termages set in normalcy. so.... my difference harms none(not myself or anyone else), I have no condition where I see or hear anything not their(no psychosis), and other than the effect of recent hardships... even the records going back 2 years show I have been sane... even while pregnant(and your ALLOWED to go loony while pregnant-that was something that gave me chuckles-I admit it). so basically... even while pumped with hormones and all that fun stuff I was proven over a period of time to be pretty much normal. I find it insulting that my religion is seen as something they have rights to decide(even if only on paper-the fact that they wrote what was told differently was insulting, demeaning and yet another reason not to trust psychiatrists). I find it horrid that I am not even allowed a single amendment right... I have even been told many times my freedom of speech should be kept... not free. I am not supposed to talk about what they do wrong apparently... though the new site has said nothing to that effect which is good for them.

UG! now if you will excuse me... thinking about the past makes me feel icky... I need a shower.

In all honesty I do not talk about the past because I am holding on to it... I talk about it after I have dealt with it enough to in hopes someone will learn from it. my intent... is to help others take a clear look themselves... to not make the mistakes of myself and those my path has crossed with.

it also helps me take a look as well.

as for what comes ahead... doesn't matter what I believe religiously... a parent is a parent and nobody should have the right to waltz in and interfere where no harm is being done.

I would say such harm is against my religion... but then again when I say such I remember every person who has ever claimed something was against their religion and done it anyway... and besides that, I say it enough anyway. basically... hypocrisy is pretty common in our society and is generally something i stay away from(even those who do it..."with a fool no season spend lest ye be counted as his friend"-wiccan creed)... though it doesn't stop others from it. basically... I live as honestly as I possibly can and despise lying and being told I am supposed to do such. basically... I have been told not to be honest... which to me... is rather confusing as that is something.... I do not wish to show my children and wish they not do as well. how else should I teach them best but by example? that is the most blaring way kids learn...

why should I teach my children immoral behavior and act against my own path as I have been instructed to?

if something is wrong in the world, you say something. if you can't fix it, you hope someone else who can does.

isn't that how the world is supposed to work?

what is their to understand? the world is either as it should be or it isn't. pretty cut a dry to me.


Thursday, February 23, 2012


most of my path would probably ignore a personal like I was responding too... look for the response listed as from Aurora Campbell. I actually use that profile for my at... though I have considered just having it as a private one... why not? others can have profiles for their dogs or have 2-10 profiles(though I personally think that would be too much trouble be) so if I get in trouble for this... they would have to seriously re evaluate how they do things... Facebook created many sitchuations in it that make many feel as such is necessary... but it is of course your faults for walking into it.

anyway... the link to this story originally commented on is here-  and the profile of the on who originally commented is here - if you feel the need to find the original comments and whatnot all the information is in this post to find it.

my last comment on his little thing was too long to be kept in one comment box thing... to understand everything said you would need to read the article, read his comments(and my past ones on this) and listen(so no hard feelings if you don't understand)... so here it is.


my mind is under no spells or witchcraft... UG! it feels demeaning to even respond to such claims... insulting. My mind is my own and ONLY my own.

second... you still make absolutely NO SENSE! listen to yourself!

and didn't you pay attention? such things where rape and such other things that make religion anothers issue... such things that force it on others, such things that use it to harm others, those I care what they do as they can effect others ability to live as they are. as I stated, my father was killed over religion. he followed an actual religion covered by the us constitution-though I am not sure if it was at t he time, and was killed by people saying they were christian. instances where others make their beliefs a problem of others(but they don't see it that way ironically) are the ones I hold issue with in general. not religions themselves, not entire groups(though the way they give such evil people power is why I prefer to avoid organizations or groups-as far as I know this is a common thing in my religion too as well as why their is a limit on a covens size and has been for a long time-because people cannot handle power without it becoming something they abuse and want more of or simply that they get caught up in the schemes of others).

 I have a religion and rape isn't part of it accept as a horrible crime that violates the sanctity that is believed is sex. in my religion sex is not simply a bodily done act but paramount to sharing part of yourself in spirit as well. it is an act of trust in it's ultimate form and is not to be done lightly. those who do, do so knowing they share part of themselves so freely. I do not. to me... rape is more than just an attack on your body. every fiber of a woman's being must remember such for the rest of their lives... perhaps even part of them will remember into their next life too(I believe in reincarnation-as an attack on all things this includes your spirit for lack of a better generalized term and thus... such things are often taken with you as memories in our soul however this is a religious belief not a scientifically proven fact but I also think both religion and science are needed in this world...).

 to have a heart and mind but a body that somehow combines both... is truly a wonder of creation and the harmony of such is my personal goal for myself. others can choose my path or follow another. to follow a path not of your own choosing is to live an unwhole life so... as long as it doesn't hurt anyone... I don't really care what anyone does.

 as for rape... I have never believed it a simple assault merely JUST on the body. your mind has to know those moments for the rest of your life. your heart has to know betrayal and fear on a deep level-knowing what is happening and knowing you are powerless to stop it. even if your body heals over and holds no remaining marks, you never forget... though that is a bit harder to explain. for me, my body did not forget and thus being intimate with my own husband was difficult before he himself took that path... I must admit though, when you know them and trust the one who performs such an act... the betrayal runs deeper. their were times I wondered before why someone never heard me-even irrationally felt betrayed by those never close enough to do anything or even know accept years later when told, and that... is what I had to deal with. But for me that was not all.

 A close friend of mine who called herself "mema" to my children and had essentially been an integrated part of my family listened to what was doesn't by my husband and had the gall to make excuses every single time I asked her "then why didn't you call for help?" rape in of itself is about power and anger, not love. it is an act of hate... people who love you don't do that. family doesn't leave you alone after such things and someone so close to you who cares doesn't sit in the next room and let you suffer knowing what is happening and letting it happen TO you... while doing nothing... I bet her cell phone had been either in her hand or by her leg too... their was no excuse..

my husband who had gone through a hand-fasting with me-which for us we did "eternity" rather than "this life" took his need for control, his anger, his hatred an placed it against me who also pledged to stand by his side... that is betrayal of the worst kind... and why what he tried after had no value in surprise... I simply left before he could do anything else... the nature of religion is more important to the individual than the one doing such. He broke his vows... think of these women from the armed forces. they train with these men, learn to trust them as comrades... would probably take a bullet for many of them in many cases... the trust required for a cooperation and productivity on the battlefield is paramount... can you honestly say any one person or group could hold the evil it would take to sway the human heart so? I do not believe thus and thus I say it isn't. these men merely proved their weakness by not choosing to be honorable... because those women survived it... now they must listen to horrible retched things like what this woman says... even your own family is capable of turning against you after such an act.

you have no understanding of what rape entales in it's entirety.


I didn't bother to even correct any word switches or spelling errors as I noticed them before I reposted here. this is exactly as it was on the site.

to clarify my last statement. those who suffer rape often suffer their own families persecution directly afterwards. many simply suffer form a lack of support. some sit through "you should be grateful we are so supportive, many others don't have that", if you can't tell... I have sat through much of this and hear of what I have not been through myself on those things. for a woman who has been raped each and every single one of those things does serious damage emotionally.

for me... a family member who previously returned my calls and was on a civil basis with me(although barely we had just crossed a line where things were not awkward and tense), has stopped holding contact as they once did... and the fact he LIKED my husband still hangs in my mind... the fact he said after that he liked him... never said a word about what he did... I hate it. It hurts. It doesn't help that I grew up knowing my grandfather had favored my mother and as such I often wondered if that was the only reason he was ever kind to me. his wife was not kind to me... though she would display such for others. I have always treasured those instances of freedom... those treasured moments... but I have always wondered if he too-only saw Carolynn's(my mother's) face when he looked at me. now... he can't even look at said face... but if asked... well lets just say because he has lied in the past... I don't ask because I know I won't believe his answer. he has lied and struck the cords of betrayal in my heart... I will never again believe the empty words that come from his mouth ever again. he never once raised his hand to me... yet his denial of her(his wife) ever doing such... his denial... did more damage than her telling me "you did this to yourself" and sometimes even saying "I didn't touch you"... the list goes on. I grew up around such denial... so sometimes my scars, even the faint ones, serve as my only sanity when I face that past... but I try because I still love this family member and wish them no ill will... somehow you would think it would make things easier but it doesn't. it only makes it that much more difficult.

even more difficult to deal with is how I still love my husband. I will never again trust him and I will not go back to him after thus... and he didn't just do so once so I can't even use that excuse... once was too much... let alone the other times. you kinda have to get over the shock of what is happening first...

it gets even better... the woman who listened and did nothing was also the woman who performed the ceremony to bind us religiously(she had lost her paperwork so we did a court house thing first to legalize it)... and I trusted him, we spent months talking about the weight of "for this life" or "for eternity"... and I found out later our little miss high priestess performed a crime of her own. your not supposed to binf two people together when you know it won't work... yet after the fact she told me she had already known and yet still performed the ceremony and bound us thus... to me... it made me struggle with even my own path. even in only name... we share the same path... so it made me wonder if following the teachings and holding them close to my heart was so wrong. In the end you must understand that my path itself that I follow is not what I doubted... I doubted those who claim to walk it with me.

the struggles of life.. nobody said they were easy... but perhaps someone will understand the complete weight of my vow to hold sex and such romantic relationships away from myself... to not get involved.

pay attention to what sex IS to me... what is means to do such.

once you figure it out I guarantee you will understand... this vow was not made lightly and in fact... was made very carefully. I never saw sex as "just" a "fun" activity as many do... never saw it in a frivolous light... but... if you consider what I have... sex and romance are not the only things I swore off, I gave up something that their really ARE those in my own religion... who will look down on me for doing so. I guarantee it.


Tuesday, February 21, 2012


This is my assignment for school. If one pays attention they will notice how I seemingly contradict myself. I will draw your attention to the fact that it is only that such things are merely more confusing to explain than to understand and that it is both and as such, is not a contradiction. that is why at times, my writing seems to contradict when i explain something big... because in my brain I do not understand how to explain it and have attempted many times to find words to explain that it is both as socially, it is confusing. again, the concept itself is easy... the way others choose to take it, is not.

please read and I hope you enjoy it. a peak into how my mind works.


Analysis or to analyze is to objectively pick apart something a way that "figures" it out. It can be argued that analysis is merely a human illusion.

To analysis is often misconstrued for assessment. to assess a sitchuation and to analyze are two different things. to analyze is to use purely logistics and facts. to assess means opinions may be added, observations. though very similar one who is analyzing a situation could look at a candle and analyze it will take "3.3 minutes" for that type of wick to burn with that type of wax and become what will no longer be a candle. To analyze means this person will have already figured out the finer points, right down to how the wax itself effects. one who analyzes may even attempt to figure out how the wax and the wick were made that way and thus learn much.

A very similar style would be to assess, logically these two things should be the same however generally to assess means a broader picture. someone who assesses must do so quickly with little to no information and must make split second decisions. while analysis is possible for such, in this lesser form is is considered to merely be an assessment.

they are generally the same and yet they are not merely because of how the word is used.

As a writer one would know this, or one might not. either way both are needed to figure out how your writing will effect your reader. to say analyze will insinuate a more precise grasp of the situation, to say "assess" will incinuate the room for flaws in the general appearance. the use of these can influence many things. to word the truth you can make it sound lie, to word a lie can be made sound truth. It is our subconscious that generally decides which one we as people use, and thus, that is what one must look for while reading... because this influences the feeling you give your readers. to switch up the two words assess and analysis you can give your readers the feeling that your character has not missed anything or has, depending on the character as a whole, either could work but inherently these are generally the messages the words usage send.

for a character who is very dependable, to use the word "analyze" can make them seem more serious, and thus if they miss something it increases the brains "surprise" and excitement factors when dealing with the story itself.

in retrospect, this should be taken as a brief assessment of what goes through my own brain when analyzing. To answer the questions in this way, is the only way I can do such without giving everyone here a head ache. everything in writing has an effect on the one who reads it, from the tint of the paper to the i dotted on any page. you need all these things. some do such automatically and thus have talent. some need to pay attention and thus must work harder to succeed in writing. for those either kind, an editing time is needed because as everything effects the readers so does it effect the writer and the readers impression of said writer. May this be sufficient?


hope you enjoyed it. I am told when I manage to find proper wording i give others head aches as it is too hard to understand. I hope I did not revert too much into how my mind works in too much detail... it tend to... well I was told that was bad. same person also told me my horrible habit of diverting languages while singing or excited/overwhelmed was bad and thus I now revert to being unable to form words at times out of fear. I had trouble singing after this person too. to me, words are useless... as anything but tools of expression. expression is possible without them as such... why would my music need linguistics when it is already able to be understood where it counts? that was my logic... even when I am alone I can't do it for too long now. he made me afraid of my own voice. my brother told me he wanted to hear me sing again... my children loved to hear me sing... as such, for my brother and for my children, that is why i sing... however... is a bird without wings running on the ground... really still a bird?

think on that last one... I do love my philosophy...


PS: in this world both assessment and analysis  are necessary. for a situation that is in a war zone the ability to accurately assess can be crucial. for the area behind a desk logistics are needed... yet those who can do both in all sitchuations are the most amazing ever. My papa was one of those. ^.^ those who can do both can walk into anything and come out alive... anything save self sacrifice. my father survived much... only to die before his daughters eyes. in this way... it can also be surmised, this is why analysis is not all powerful. both heart and head are necessary. assessment and analysis are in ones head. when the time comes, everyone has a moment where their heart takes over and they make a sacrifice that is logically not sound. a child cannot contribute to a mission or to their anything really much until much later in life... thus, the logistics of sacrificing oneself for a child are flawed. that lack of logistics is also what should never even be attempted to be erased in any being... because it is what separates a monster from a living breathing being. the absence of one or the other makes for a life that is not complete... a human cannot survive without a heart, but without a brain can end up missing something and ending up dead. in this way... my philosophy is that both are needed. my papa... he was my hero even when he was alive and someday I will finish a story I am writing... in this story he is alive... in this story I just think he is dead and he is watching over me... because everyone has a fantasy. I never wanted him to die and saving me out their where logically I could have just died anyway... displays his lack of logic... something as a navy seal(I know this by a faint memory where I told my mom I wanted to be a seal just like my father-I apparently thought a navy seal was something that could turn into a seal-kids huh) he should have thought prominent from his training. This thus proves... the heart is never absent. That is what separates those who forget why they fight and deal with the pain... from those who become monsters on the battlefield. I must admit... while I would prefer my father alive... could he have lived if I had died? I was his little girl... and thus, emotion takes over for logic. for that reason... despite my mothers please i learn to follow my heart... it is my father who truly taught me what that meant. if the time comes for me to make a similar decision though... I will live if for no other reason than to avoid the pain left in the big hearts in my little precious ones bodies... may my children never feel that pain or cry those tears of such loss... everything we miss when we die too soon... no matter how bad things get one must live because the only constant in life is change. even if things get so bad I should die... I will live because I want to know... when it will get better and i want to know... what is around that corner, just like... those stories papa used to tell me and that tree I promised I would climb. someday I will go back to that place... just to keep my promise. I was probably no older than 2 years old... but my father taught me honor, and honor is keeping your promises... no matter how long it takes.

Monday, February 20, 2012

Sunday, February 19, 2012

people I met

I met a couple of people on the bus who were awesome... kind, and very friendly.

I met a man who was very adamant about religion being personal and would have very much liked to be his friend... it would be nice to not have that matter.

I got lost many times and somehow found my way, met those who pointed me in directions when I was lost and even a bus driver who let me know when we were where I needed to be.

I met this other bus driver who was kind and bright, a bit rueful too. blunt but not mean.

I met plenty of people... they were nice.

I am pointing out kindness because I was told to. to me... the actions themselves are more valuable than the words. recognition is nice but... if you are not careful, people do them just to be recognized... not because their hearts are in it.

I also met someone who kept saying "I love you, you are a good woman" and tried offering me money and the like... he seemed senile and I thought talking to him was harmless but... he was just... well how would you take it if someone followed from one bus stop to another and almost followed you to where you were going and you had to reassure them you were coming back to THAT bus stop so they wouldn't keep following you?
perhaps being raped has made me paranoid... but that sounds like something that would raise alarms for any woman.

I also met this very weird couple who couldn't keep their own religious talk straight. at first he had said that if a christian resorts to murder, they are not christian. however he maintained a belief about those of MY religion that even those who go against the core laws can still be of such. he held this double standard but later said one who killed could still be christian. he even went so far as to tell the woman "don't listen to her, they have to lie to you. they can't tell you the truth" his thoughts were dangerous and much like those who killed my father. he detached humanity from those who believed differently, even in his speech. the woman once again... just pregnant. she was fine... a bit insecure, but that can be said as only her pregnancy hormones.

first off, HE was nuts and she was whiny... she was also pregnant, their is an excuse for her hormonal insecurities. His cracked sanity was another story. his logic was flawed and he was disengaged from reality as a whole, yet everything about it was religiously based. they asked because my walking stick has a pentacle on it. I answered and the response was very hostile in nature, though hers was much less... volatile, more avoidance caused by religious teachings.
first off, I made sure not to tell them that I did practice and never disputed that I did practice. they pray don't they? stupid thing to assume. I simply stick to healing, and protection. I don't touch much at all... I just didn't want to deal with his obvious hostility. The fact is... avoiding his harm to me and the stress it would cause the woman was my top priority. besides, I have to ask permission for even a blessing, or place a clause where it can be refused if unwanted. this guy was just nuts and in my bodies weakened state, this was indeed lesser harm. this guy was... dangerous.
he told her I had to lie... nope. I don't have to tell them but made sure to say that if asked directly I would say "I can't tell you that" rather than lie. He was nuts. she was just grossly misinformed. He couldn't even keep his facts straight on his own religion.
I neither blessed them nor cursed them but he was of the mindset that his own belief's were right no-matter how many times they changed with the seconds... if I had told him of the fact I practiced he would have undoubtedly became violent. I grew up around people like him... he was the easiest person I read the body language of all day. I saw nothing towards his family that would give me pause... though I found his exasperation over her hormonal state to be humorous. other than being a complete dickhead about religion... this family seemed pretty normal to me. people like him are only dangerous to those who do not share their beliefs so explaining more than I did was a moot point as the woman held too much kindness and his way seemed he might have hurt even her if she swayed even a little. I do not know... though with the way he handled her I doubt it, I have simply seen it play out before. experience makes me doubt what my eyes have seen would stay the same. my heart tells me that if he loved her... it wouldn't matter.

her heart seemed good, she was spoiled but most are. she was a good woman. I hope her man keeps his opinions from causing harm. those who follow other paths are human too and thus should be left be regardless. if he truly believes such, he should be content with "where" he believes they will go "in the end" and leave that be as his own religion thus dictates.

the other one I met shortly after was sane... but annoyingly persistent. he seemed eager to get away from my presence and even almost got off the bus early, over religion. he brought it up mind you. several times I about was at my wits end and finally I said "your religion killed my father" to shut him up, I do not often experience this thing of saying things I do not mean... but that was one. His religion did not kill my father... those who follow it did.

I have already seen the place I will go when I die. I believe miracles happen regardless of race and religion. to me... such things do not exist. those barriers are placed by humans alone.

If the place I saw is "hell", then I will gladly go their because hell was so beautiful and had everything I have loved but who lives and breaths still. my parents, my twin sister... even pets who died. they can believe whatever they want. if that is hell, I will take it gladly when my time comes.

here is my take on it, and this is what i should have told him. If he believes their is only one god, and I have lived through things I should have died from... obviously someone wants me alive... right? if he believes it is only his god up their then perhaps he should reassess something. My faith in my path is resolute. I will not be converted. His energy was wasted at best and acting like he was afraid... this battle between religions sickens me. the man I would have loved to befriend and me share the same view though I still choose my path... I could definitely deal with it... your religion is between you and your chosen deity. without even realizing it, this man had faith in his math based world... as long as he believes something. I wouldn't change it if he didn't but... the point being, even if you believe religion is bad at least you believe something.

to me... as long as nobody is hurt, as long as your not hurting anybody... as long as you believe something(even not religion)... I don't care what you believe. just don't make it a problem for me or mine. your beliefs are between you and the one you believe in, or yourself and you if their is no religion involved.

if nobody forced these things on others... it wouldn't matter what anybody believed.

that last one... made me a bit sad. I knew without a doubt he would not help me if I needed it. I knew without a doubt he wanted to be anywhere but their. to me... a persons worth is set by their actions, how they treat others... to me that he saw my worth only as someone he wanted to convert to his religion... that made me sad. If he was sound in his own path... my faith in my own convictions would not have made him shake. He would not have nearly left the bus early, his voice would have held less weakness to it, and his body language would have held more... he would have been more... I suppose I don't really have a word for it. to only half believe something... if he truly believed his faith would protect him, he would not have been as such. I wouldn't exercise power of any kind like he seemed to believe anyway... and he didn't even know anything about my path!

I was raised to believe that religion was supposed to protect you from the physical and the spiritual... not by my parents... but by church and such. it was taught that everything bad was a trial. to be blunt... no parent can put their children through what people go through so in short, I reserve the right to believe they believe in an asshole. they are however, entitled to believe in an asshole. I imagine little cosmic female anime chibi's of the goddess on her period.... personally I don't think anyone should mind. we were given senses of humor and independent thought... using them to hold opinions and such is normal. as long as we do not force them on anyone. keep in mind... these are MY my beliefs. perhaps... I simply believe that we were given a mind, and heart because ignoring either one causes our being to feel incomplete.

I think... if your heart pulls you in a path... as long as it doesn't hurt anyone(including yourself)... it is OK.

Of my path, my beliefs is sound... my confusion and lack of faith is in humanity... not my mother goddess and father god(a common way to address the god and goddess thought typically a refrain out of fear of those who will ask"so do you think your parents are deity's?" happened before... the answer is no BTW, it is simply believed they are the mother and father of all), it is more complicated than that at many points but... basically, I don't feel like explaining my religion in detail. if asked... I will do so. if not... oh well. I share what I feel is necessary to explain. I live dealing with those like that couple... like that man who shied merely when he heard my faith. personally... people like that make me feel pity. I feel sorry for them. I hope one day that man has the faith, I hope one day that other man realizes the world doesn't bend to what he thinks about anything, and I hope that woman stays good in her heart.

someday I hope everyone realizes... people are people. no matter what a person believes, no matter what color, no matter what part of the world.

we all can bleed. we all have souls. we all live. we all will eventually die.

what creator would put someone on this place only to be doomed to an eternity in suffering just for not sinign praises?

in my opinion Sodom and Gomorrah is proof enough. the world is much worse than those described... it can be argues philosophically that one who would destroy two cities over such but leave this world alone... especially after being described as a "father" who would turn his back on his "son" in his greatest time of need(regardless of reason) due to this sin... would simply see this world as too degenerated and unworthy to destroy and thus, gave up on it.

makes me really glad I am not christian... because by reading the bible and looking around... if I followed that path, that is exactly the conclusion I would come to.

by many religions humans are charged to protect and keep the earth safe, to keep the balance... by the world now, this is a failed endeavor. I hope this changes. all this talk about other "worlds" is proof enough for me... if they thought this planet was able to be saved and had any intention of doing such... they wouldn't be looking elsewhere so vigorously.

why dont we, as humans, simply be happy with the planet we have, and live letting each-other be. in all honesty... if we stopped using oil, my country stopped being  a bully(and inevitably creating more dangerous bullies by doing such), and if everyone did their part... the planet could heal.

humanity will not be gifted another chance. I grew up with the lore to know that. my mother and father knew many stories... I wish I could have known them longer... heard more of them... their is more than one story where this is not humanities first chance.

the choice to believe the lore is left up to the one hearing it. I will be blunt, their are rules on to who it can be passed and how... even how it can be recorded.

truth is truth.

people are people.

lies are lies

right it right

wrong is wrong

these things would be a helluva lot easierif people could just leave one another alone and "live and let live" instead of feeling the need to project their idea of these things on others lives.