30 Days of Truth

Okay, I saw this on JennyGracewhatsherbutt's blog, who got it from Avitable, who got it from this person or this person or this person or this person, or...shit, I don't even know. I clicked on his links, which led to other people saying they got it from other people, and well, here we are. I even saw cute little buttons on Homesick Cajun's blog, but I still don't know if she created this, or if any of the little buttons really are specific to the challenge, or. Well, whatever.

Copy and paste if you like it; apparently there are about 4000 of us who already have. :) Whoever invented these writing prompts, thank you! You are a genius!

And because I am bored and jobless and going batshit crazy in a house with 3 dogs and not enough sugar, I created a damn button/badge thing for it. I don't even know. Just go with it, okay?

Button/badge:

So, yeah. I didn't say I was a button/badge-making genius, did I?

Ahem.

Actual prompts:

Day 01 → Something you hate about yourself.

Day 02 → Something you love about yourself.

Day 03 → Something you have to forgive yourself for.

Day 04 → Something you have to forgive someone for.

Day 05 → Something you hope to do in your life.

Day 06 → Something you hope you never have to do.

Day 07 → Someone who has made your life worth living for.

Day 08 → Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.

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

Day 10 → Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.

Day 11 → Something people seem to compliment you the most on.

Day 12 → Something you never get compliments on.

Day 13 → A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)

Day 14 → A hero that has let you down. (letter)

Day 15 → Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it

Day 16 → Someone or something you definitely could live without.

Day 17 → A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.

Day 18 → Your views on gay marriage.

Day 19 → What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?

Day 20 → Your views on drugs and alcohol.

Day 21 → (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?

Day 22 → Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.

Day 23 → Something you wish you had done in your life.

Day 24 → Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)

Day 25 → The reason you believe you’re still alive today.

Day 26 → Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?

Day 27 → What’s the best thing going for you right now?

Day 28 → What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?

Day 29 → Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.

Day 30 → A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself.

 

I'm going to start this weekend, and work it in between my other posts.

There you have it.

Blue days, black nights

When I was younger, I had this reoccurring dream. Fair warning here: my dreams are usually pretty f-ed up, so FAIR WARNING.

I was in the girls' bathroom of my elementary school, crouched in a stall, clutching a book.
I had a sense that I had stolen the book, although I have no idea why.
It was painfully loud...I was surrounded by the scream of jet engines, and the pornographic beat of thousands of drums, and there was the rumbling of a fierce storm in my chest.
I squatted, with my back against the door, staring at a lone drop of urine on the toilet seat a few inches from my face.
As I grew older and realized I could control some of my actions in these dreams, I would attempt to will my gaze to the floor, or the cover of the book I clutched...anything but that damn drop of urine. Yet my eyes deceived me, and I would be slapped with an intense anger aimed at myself, for not being strong enough.
The roof would blow off, and what was already a powerful sound would somehow amp up. Rather than cover my ears, I would squeeze that book closer into the crook of my arms, closer to my small chest.
Then it got weirder.
Some sort of beast (surely a manifesto of my love for all things Stephen King) would fall from the sky, and begin banging on the stall door, rattling my teeth and my stomach in the process. It would actually knock, to the rhythm of an old ELO song, it's razor-sharp talons scraping the metal door. I would catch myself humming along, even singing the lyrics in my head, knowing I was giving in to what the beast wanted: 
          I look into the sky, the love you need ain't gonna see you through
            And I wonder why the little things you planned ain't coming true
            Oh oh Telephone Line, give me some time, I'm living in twilight
            Oh oh Telephone Line, give me some time, I'm living in twilight

The beast would beat the door open, jarring my body, propelling my face into the toilet bowl, and I would smell that drop of urine...it would fill my nostrils and leak down the back of my throat.
At the same time, nuns would float down from the sky, habits billowing in an even breeze, with hazy faces and clear voices speaking a language both foreign & familiar to my little girl ears.
Above the din of all of the noise, they would lift me with a strength only they had. The stall doors would fall away. I would see myself, above myself, and watch the beast-now lying on it's side, slithering in agony upon the dirty floor.
Any relief I felt at being saved was always short-lived, replaced by a sickening sense of dread that started at the pit of my stomach, arching out to my limbs, ending in a lightning bolt of heat and heaviness in my heart.
I would wake to sheets twisted around my body, heart hammering at the base of my throat, the taste of bile filing my mouth. Staring at the ceiling, I would hold my breath until my heart slowed, my mind a blank journal page.
As a child, there seemed to be no effects in the days following this dream. I would go to school, watch Cheers with my Dad, play with Barbies. But over the years, this dream  followed me through elementary and middle school, as worn and familiar as the green blanket I still cover up with at night.
Just before entering high school though, this dream became the beacon for something much more terrifying, a signal to me that my heart was about to betray me.
Within days of the dream, my heart would skip a single beat here, make up for it there, and my valve would start this pop and stick dance in protest. I would end up with a heart rate in excess of 200 bpm, my chest a torrent of fiercely jumbled beats fighting for control.
I felt powerless when I would wake from the beast/nun dream, dreading my inability to prepare for the slated episode.
Out of control.
Irate.
Weak.
Smothered.

When I had heart surgery several years ago to repair the wayward ways of my heart's rhythm, the dream stopped.
Until a couple of weeks ago.
I didn't think I was dreaming when my valve woke me, with it's almost-forgotten pop and stick dance. I laid in bed holding my breath, staring at a shadow of a tree on my window. My mind was a blank journal page.
My child stirred next to me, so I focused on her hand seeking mine beneath the sheets. As she found and sought refuge in it, I felt the dance end in my chest, and the loss of control take over. I gave in to it, drifting back to sleep.

Music Lover Monday-For my sister

Our house is not quiet, tranquil, or relaxing by any stretch of any of those words. The dogs are constantly barking, whining, playing, bouncing, shitting, snoring. The TV is old as hell, so it's loud one second, and silent the next. And when I say loud, I mean "Did I wake up in a nursing home?" loud. We all yell over one another in happy voices. My brother stops by almost every night, and that takes it up another few levels.

We are the same way in the car. Let me give you a teeny tiny peek:

Mom: "So, at work today, Bitchface #1 walked in and told me that..."
interrupting, Sister: "Oooo, I like this song! Can you turn it up?"
Me, to Sister: "Hold on a sec." Turn up the radio.
Me, to mom: "Okay, go on."
My girl: "Mother, this is a loud song. I don't like it so much."
Sister: "OMG, she is SO annoying. SERIOUSLY? Just turn the stupid song off..."
My girl: "Oh wait! I do like this song!"
Sister: DEEP SIGH.
Mom: "Soooo, anywho! She tells me that she thinks she should..."
interrupting, My girl: "Is he saying BJ or DJ?"
Sister: "DJ got us falling in love. GAH. Not BJ."
Me: GIGGLING "She said BJ."
Mom: gives me a sideways glance 
My girl: "OKAY, I got it. Grandma, Angel rolled her eyes at me!"
My sister: "I didn't do ANYTHING! ughhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Just whatever!"
Me: smacking the radio off.
Mom: turning around in the seat.
Me & my mom: "OMG, can't you two be nice to one anther?"
Sister and my girl: "She started it!"
All of us: COLLECTIVE DEEP SIGH.
Followed by: Frustration, grrrrr, & approximately 4.2 seconds of angry silence.
Then: "Can you turn the radio back on please?"

After one such incident, my sister says:

"Ooo, turn this up. This is my jam!!!"
My girl glares at her. She's got that shit down.
"Come on! Everyone dance with me!"
So we all start dancing in the jeep, at a redlight. With the windows down and the music blaring.
And for the approximately 3 minutes it takes to listen to the song, we are a silent, happy, bouncy group of 4 girls dancing our hearts out, not a care in the world. 



Neon Trees-Animal

Ten for Today

Today, I am full of emotions with no words to mirror them.
Today, I know I cannot write what is stamped on the inside of my heart.
Today, I know I forgive, but cannot forget.
Today, I love just as I did ten years ago:
           painfully, with fragile abandon, overflowing with hope and lust,
           overcome by fear and concern and uncertainty.
But today, I must not bear these things,
     For today, we have been married ten years.
Today, we are far from what we were...but nothing like I thought we would be.
I am me, but different.
You are you, but different.
We are both broken and lost, unchained and unlinked, walking away as we stand frozen in this position of inability...

Regret, anger, placing blame-
None of these weigh heavier or lighter than
the bulk of our unlived dreams
dying silently, 
cupped in the palm of your hands.

Unknotted

The lifestrings of you and I
Were intended to merge
and tangle...

First:
Carefully designed to
curve and twist independently
of one another
Each full & rich with hope & promise,
Centered by a common thread.

Then:
A crash-course knot in arms and legs,
limbs and lips,
love and lust, 
Left us bruised and bitten,
A knot we both desired.

Now:
You are freed from this thin thread
and
I
am left,
          shredded
    and
  frayed,
my ends frazzled,
     my arms outstretched
          towards you,
retreating back into my dreams.

Don't judge me

In case you were wondering what the hell I did this weekend, which I'm pretty sure you weren't, but I'm all for making everyone's day when I can, although, now that I think of it...it really isn't possible to make everyone's day all the time, and why the hell do I even try anymore???
Wait. That was an aside we don't want to get into.
Weekend update. Yes. Ahem.

-Fun Friday night with my lovely friend Kristy for her birthday. Awesome friend Zelvis came with (and he drove! Woooo!) and my brownie Biddy met us there. Mojitos, the temporary search for a sexy bodyguard (that so obviously doesn't exist-why do we even bother anymore???), staring at this beautiful woman in a yellow dress because we were sooooo wanting to have long gorgeous legs like hers, giving Zelvis a hard time, and then, OH THEN, we drove around for approximately 20 minutes, following Biddy and her not-so-trusty GPS just to get to f-ing Jack in the Box for their 2 tacos for 99 cents deal. Because Wendy's was not what we wanted. Even though we passed the same Wendy's approximately 4.5 times (don't ask). Even though I'm pretty sure we crossed over the same streets and all of the highways in the Irving/Las Colinas area. We went in a big, huge, Biddy/mojito-induced circle, but it ended in the deliciousness that is Jack in the Box tacos and 99 cent burgers. Yeeeeeee. Worth.every.second.

-Not worth every second? The thirst from hell that resulted the next day. What the hell is it about mojitos that makes me so damn desert-like? I actually got up out of bed THREE times to drink DIRECTLY OUT OF THE FAUCET. No, really. Don't judge me (Words made famous by Kristy's brother, who says them in this very defensive voice that makes me laugh every time).

-My girl attended a half-day cheer camp at the high school around the corner. My not-so-girly girl. And she was adorable. And so far, she is looking forward to performing these cute little cheers on the field at the game this Friday. I cannot even believe I'm finally taking her to a high school football game. That's another post all in of itself.

-The A/C broke in the house. Again. Luckily it wasn't 100+ outside, but omg, it was still miserable.

-My girl made a goal at her second soccer game. And enjoyed herself. And didn't cling to me like a leech, like she did the first quarter of last week's game.

-Saturday I made dinner plans, and then had to cancel them, with a sweet friend I used to work with at CPS. That was just the icing on the cake of a very uneventful day.

-I stayed up too late, watching stupid TV.

-I watched Killers with my mom, sis, and friend. I beat the shit out of the couch with a pillow because of this. Beating the couch? Oh, hee, now THAT is another post. Look for that one later this week. I just can't even begin to discuss the grrrrrrrrr I get.....

deep breaths.

-My girl had a fever all day Sunday. Coupled with the broken A/C, it made for a sweaty, clingy day, and not in a good way. We watched School of Rock and Nanny McPhee, did some napping, and then did some more napping.

-I had approximately 4078 mini-meltdowns (4075 of them inside my head) about being jobless and not receiving ONE MOTHERFUCKING SINGLE phone call thus far, in spite of applying for a ton of jobs.

-I found 3 pieces of bouncy ball in a certain someone's poo in the backyard. So gross. But glad he didn't get a blockage.

-I accidently touched Max's who-ha as he slept on the couch next to me. Then threatened him if he even thought about smiling about it. For those of you not familiar, Max is my DOG, people. I do tend to call him my boyfriend, but not because I touch his who-ha. Not that I touch his who-ha often. Or EVER. OMG, how do I back my ass out of THIS paperbag??

Ahem.

-I somehow flung a pair of cuticle scissor type things off of my lap as I was getting off the couch. Like, flung them into my face, barely missing my eyeball. What the hell?

Yes, YES, that's part of the excitement of my weekend.
Again, don't judge me.

-I delurked on Avitable's blog, to tell him his picture looked like it contained penises. WHAT? Go look and tell me the candles don't look like penises.

-I almost went to see Animal Kingdom, which I've really wanted to see for awhile, but the whole kiddo-had-a-fever thing, followed by the broken-A/C thing, followed by the kiddo-stayed-with-me-tonight thing, and well, I didn't see the fucking movie. Guess what I might go see by myself on Wednesday night?

-I didn't work, which I totally should have since I am BROKE BROKE BROKE, but I had requested off for my girl's soccer game and the dinner plans that I had to cancel, and omg....

Yeah, so....there.

Music Lover Monday-Another great Amazon.com find

Matt Duke's Sex and Reruns

This song. Gah. I don't even know where to begin. This guy? His lyrics are just....
right fucking on.

Dark out all your demons with white noise, pills, and Jesus

And when I get down I just turn off the lights
I find friends and lovers, some online sex and reruns
And when I get down I just turn off the light the light the lights

And then this:

When you're lost and confused
But you're too proud to face the truth
Spend up all your money on a band-aide to cover the wound

Just listen.