Move along and prosper

This is a random conversation between my friends Matthew, Elizabeth and I after leaving the lake yesterday. It was awesome fun.

Me: I keep dreaming you’re a star ship captain
Matthew: Who Elizabeth?
Me: No you
Matthew: Nice
Me: Yes in one dream we were on this space station and we ran out of oxygen.
Matthew: We’re all doomed. Screw evacuating everyone I am out here.
Me: That’s not nice.
Matthew: So I am the captain.
Me: I think you’d make a good star ship captain.
Matthew: Thank you.
Me: I have always wanted a Star Trek themed birthday party. I want to be Spock, except I can’t because I am a girl. (Sue me I am an entire nerd.)
Elizabeth: I want to marry Spock and have his babies.
Me: Which Spock Lenard Nemoy Spock or Zachary Quinto Spock?
Elizabeth: Doesn’t matter.
Matthew: Lenard Nemoy is pretty hot.
Me: Yes he was the best Spock ever!
Matthew: Yes but he is getting pretty shrivelled now.

I shall call this moving week…

Tis Day 3 of 5.

I am supposed to be cleaning but Hev-Lady is taking a short nap. I don’t blame her the heat can take a toll on Neptunians…I mean humans. I momentarily confused characters with real people as I often do when my brain is entirely scatterbrained. Perhaps it would be easier to say that I was procrastinating as usual. So there is an entire heat wave going on right now. AN ENTIRE HEAT WAVE! And guess what mom (Hev-Lady) and I have been stuck inside packing. I feel like I am seriously melting into oblivion. It’s so hot I put a freezey on the counter, forgot about it and 5 minutes later it was melted. It almost reminds me of Australia. Now people will use the “oh you should know what this heat is like you were in a very tropical part of a country that had very hot summers…” Therefore I will not remind people of the day when it was 45 C and I was drenched in my own sweet. It was gross. I wonder if any of my Aussie friends would find this heat bad.

Anyways it’s nice to right something random and scrambled for once. So far I have been stuck in the kitchen cleaning dishes and counters, fun, fun, fun. I would rather be sitting by a fan reading a good book suffering from mental stress rather than physical, swimming with my friends and cooling off. I can’t wait till we finally move. I am also proud to say this has been a positive move to date as far as moving goes. We’ve had a head start and made sure we organized about 90 per cent of everything, which helps. Usually Hev-Lady (may she not read this and smack me silly) would be entirely crabby. Like GO AWAY I HATE YOU unless you do what I say scary or your being lazy and not doing anything. Not to mention Tony (Zack-Man) would be entirely flustered because he finds change hard to cope with. I guess we haven’t had to worry because Tony isn’t being stressed out by it; he is still coping from the big change that happened six months ago, going into care and all. The crabby dogs have replaced him. Sydney just sat there and barked at me for no particular reason then to be an ass and announce hot pissed off he is with the weather too. At least I think that’s what the voluntary spasms of dog language alerting me to. I’ve been giving him tepid baths to cool him down, but he is scared of baths because of my brother tried to give him a bath and dosed in hot water I’d be scared too, at least Sydney has avoided the microwave unlike a certain cat that I never met but was told about.

I should get back to work. I should move along and prosper….I mean live long and prosper… its ummm hot.

P.S. Budweiser beer is apparently for dirty old men.

My Spiritual Conundrums

Procrastination is a common thing in my life. While attending uni and college I used to wait till the last minute to finish assignments. And now that I am moving I am procrastinating at packing. Moving really isn’t so bad once it’s over, its just the hard work beforehand. I am also procrastinating spiritually.

Anyways, this may come as a shock to everyone, but I’ve decided to get baptised. I am going to become a Baptist. Never thought that would happen! It’s scary because I always was dead set on rejecting it and now I am OK with it. I mean I still have my issues with religion and all but I feel like I am working them out.

Although technically I am supposedly a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Later Day Saints (Mormons). I am what they would call an inactive member. When I went to Alberta for that brief time Sue-Woman and my aunty who I will call Mel-Lady made me go to church. When I said I wasn’t interested or not ready for the whole church scene my aunty replied with the “oh that’s just the adversary.” (Adversary means Satan) It sounded so weird and deluded to me, like it does some times when my mom says “the devil is testing her.” Sometimes my families God talk irked me out, not because I don’t believe because I have said repeatedly I do. I think it’s just the idea of committing to faith? Or maybe I am still to sceptical to believe that its all up to one super being, I am still struggling with unbelief to a point.

I think of when I was 13 and the first time I was baptised by the Mormon Church, prior to this a few years earlier I wanted to be a Seventh Day Adventist and was starting baptismal classes. I was 8! I never truly believed in Mormonism. It left me with more questions then answers. I remember when the missionaries who talked to me shocked because I joked that I didn’t care which kingdom I wanted to go too, as all good Mormons want to go to the Celestial Kingdom. They never even asked me if I wanted to get baptised they figured because I was taking part in there talks and lessons that I wanted to be. This moment is significant but not significant to remember the date all I remember is it was April. I liked going to church to interact with people outside of home other than my mom and I was going through a really rough time. They took advantage of that to convert me! Not to mention I was pressured by Sue-Woman and my Aunt Mel-Lady to join. I knew the moment I stood outside that baptismal tank that it was wrong! My aunty was with me during my sudden hesitation and she did what any good Christian Mormon would do she said a prayer to try and calm me and told me it was just the adversary, (which seems to be her answer to a lot of things wrong.) I thought back to the baptism I went too earlier to see what they were like and the eight year old girl was in tears. Eight is the age children with in the church are baptised. It kind of scared me. I felt so uncomfortable before and after. I knew all the facts about the religion but I knew I didn’t care especially, when the missionaries asked me which Kingdom I wanted to go too and I said jokingly “doesn’t matter.

Then before the baptism I was interviewed by a different missionary as it is customary before being baptised. In which I was asked several inappropriate questions that a 13 year old would have no idea about.

Such as:
Have you ever had sex?

Have you had sex with a woman?

Have you ever murdered anyone?

And those are just the ones I remember. The question regarding sex scared the crap out of me. I felt so uncomfortable the entire time and apparently if I said yes to any of those questions if I repented of them then they would be washed away after the baptism, etc…I thought I was going to go to outer darkness because my mom thought I was a lesbian. I wrote an entry on this ages ago…

I told my moms friend about this, who coincidentally thought Mormonism is a cult. She told Hev-Lady and she was pissed! She almost decided not to give her consent. I wish she had said no to them and stood up for me when I was too scared to do it myself. Unfortunately Sue-Woman’s influence was still as strong back then and well Mel-Lady is just her plus one who does everything she tells her.

Months later I stopped going I wonder why? Yet I never stopped believing in God. I think I was always searching spiritually. I hope I have made the right decision now.

P.S. From now on anything that goes wrong is Pretty Blue Eyes fault. :P It makes me feel better.

A bowl full of lies

Well I just successfully made an ass out of myself. You think I would learn to stay away from sitting on the fence and seeing both sides after the disaster that was Sam-Lady vs. Rat-Woman.

This time it is Hev-Lady vs. McLies. McLies wants to be my friend, she used to be friends with my mom, they had big scary fight and I knew for a fact they were BOTH responsible. Hev-Lady thinks McLies is a pathological liar, a charming one scarily enough. McLies thinks my mom is full of bull shit, but she sweetens it out by saying how she has such awesome points and blabedy blah. I made a mistake and decided to visit McLies after work for a couple of nights to see if I could decipher though the crap. Hev-Lady finds out and it really pissed her off, as in throwing a temper tantrum and treating me like dirt. I’ve officially impaled myself once again. I wasn’t going to tell her, but she pushed it out of me.

I just wanted to know the truth. I wanted to know if there is anything true to what she has to say about my mother, the scary fact it 2 percent is true the rest is all tall tales of all obscurity. It takes a bull shitter, a sceptic or a clever story teller to see that. I feel like I am caught up in this sick twisted game and McLies is trying to use me to get back at my mom because she won’t be friends anymore. She is handing me a bowl full of awful lies and she expects me to take a spoon and eat it all up, even if they are hard as nails and full of poison.

Hev-Lady is a control freak who makes sure everything is about her and insists they all feel sorry for her. Pray tell I don’t get my head bitten off if she ever comes across this.
Except in this case I’m pretty sure it’s not so hard to choose sides. I’ve known my mother longer than McLies and I have NEVER known Hev-Lady to lie to me. She may tell me in a way that she wants it to be heard but I know it’s not a lie. I think it’s pretty obvious that a friendship with McLies is not possible, it just gets me into to trouble and I feel all twofaced and icky inside. Then again if one gets all defensive does that not denote something as well? The thing is I think I went to visit and make friendly times with McLies to be spiteful and passive aggressive towards Hev-Lady because she is seriously frustrating the hell out of me now and subconsciously this is the only way I knew how. THE END! But I am too faced because I tell Hev-Lady that didn’t do it for those reasons. I fell like a terrible horrible and fear that once Pretty Blue Eyes and all my friends old and new find out, I’ll lose them forever. I wish I could just go hide under the big black rock I used six months ago. It was safe there.

I just want to know why I am so stupid and keep making the same mistakes over and over again.

P.S. McLies would make a good foe for Hev-Lady in the sequel to Song of the Superheroes :P Sadly McLies doesn’t deserve a character in her honour. Only my real friends do.

Rambling once again

Have you ever been in a group of people yet feel so alone? I feel like they like me and they want to get to know me, but I am too scared to let them and I really don’t want too for some reason. I feel like I am standing next to this thick pane of glass and no matter how hard I try I can’t seem to break through it. I feel like I am having an out of body experience. I don’t feel like Melissa at all. I feel this insecure shy, unconfident woman unsure of what to do and how to act, a social retard. I don’t want to be ignored, yet I allow it to happen. I keep beating my head against the glass.

I’ve recently began attempting to meet more people and make friends, which I think is rather successful, the meeting people part anyways. I just don’t feel like I am meeting people that I want lasting relationships with yet. I’m still new girl. I want to show people the real me, but I am scared. I tried to talk to a person I think is a friend about the story I am working on, but I was out of my element, shy and quiet and he didn’t hear me, he just walked by because he didn’t hear me. It hurt because I finally make a feeble attempt to share a part of myself and it backfires. Coincidentally he also happened to be Pretty Blue Eyes. I felt so let down. Like I shouldn’t even bother to be his friend I am so tempted to be passive aggressive and tell him I don’t think I should be his friend because I WANT to be his friend not his invisible friend, he makes small talk too and tries to be friendly and invite you places. If I knew this was the consequences of my actions, I never would have told him that I liked him. Rah! But if he didn’t like me that way why does his whole face light up when he sees me? Why does he gaze at me when he thinks I am not looking?

Urgh and the only person who seems to understand what I am thinking concerning romantical woes and or this issue of expressing myself a city bus driver Banana Man and my mother. How weird is that? Then I am constantly worried as my mom listens to my ramblings that I am annoying her with my constant over analysing of my every move, Pretty Blue Eyes and life in general. She keeps saying I don’t know what to say, but I try to tell her you don’t have to say anything, you just need to listen. That’s it. I don’t have anyone that I feel I can successfully ramble too and they can successfully ramble back to the point that we have this equilibrium of listening and rambling. I just want to spout frustrations and knowing they understand what is bothering me. I don’t want advice, I don’t want comments on it. I certainly don’t want them to use my secrets against me. I just want someone to listen. And if my services are needed I will do the same. I’ve only found at least two people like that, unfortunately for me one lives in Alberta and another lives in Australia. My ranting and raving is heard, but debated too and that frustrates the hell out of me.

P.S. Creationism vs. evolution, tis a tricky debate, I want to devote a whole entire entry to it. :P

I believe in God part 2: Christianity vs. an open mind.

I was thinking back to an earlier post about my beliefs in God. I still feel the religious confusion, but my ideas about going to church have changed. I realised it when I went to church without my mom. Oh shocker I now attend church so sue me. Mom bugged me for months and months on end. I find it a place to share my spiritual views and ideas about God with other people. To see other humans for that matter to immerse myself into the community rather then pine for the life I left behind in Australia. I still miss it, but I finally feel like I am moving forward. However, I still cling to my sceptical nature and open minded views. Sadly I think this is an issue.

Especially when I want to punch a fellow church member in the face when he mimics and mocks homosexuality. His whole view was the stereotypical ignorant one, you know the falsetto voice, the overtly feminine hand gestures and so on and so for. It disgusted me, but of course he backed it up with his oh it’s not my place to judge. So I told him one of my best friends is gay and he doesn’t act like that at all. You think I would learn from this not to bring it up again. I could tell he didn’t believe me.

Then later in the day I was invited out to lunch, with McLies, her family, old pastor and his wife, the ministry coordinator and her family and the new handsome pastor. I was an instigator and brought up homosexuality two more times. Once at the dinner table when I brought up a quote from a gay guy getting married and telling his dad how the road to hell was paved in bacon. I was ready for a debate on how the Bible only mentions male homosexuality and not lesbians because it’s patriarchal and so on and so forth, maybe even mention how gender and sexuality are purely social constructs mostly based on religious views, but I probably would have had to leave the house in shame and walk home (a good 10 kilometres or so.)

Then I unwitting said how Amy thought the intern pastor was gay because the way I described him was too good to be true, as most guys his age are dinkleheads. I was really itching to bring it up with him too because he IS too good to be true. He is the nicest guy I ever met. The whole group erupted into laughter. Then I added he is taken by God and I forgot to add the part where my friend Carol said all the good ones are taken or gay. I was implying he was taken. Of course the ministry coordinator said if he was gay he would NOT in no circumstances be preaching or holding any position in the church, he could attend but that’s it. I got the impression homosexuality was NOT a topic to bring up with church people. I smoothed it over by saying the intern pastor was pretty manly so he didn’t have to worry. I felt bad because I think I embarrassed him not to mention he was the one giving me a ride home. He said he was pretty secure in his sexuality so it was no worries phew. It just seems I can’t bring up any concrete debate with some of them with out getting my foot jammed so far in my mouth there are teeth marks on my knees. My open minded and truthfulness about how I see the world are kind of not really looked down upon, but are not something to be talked about. It scares me because its part of who I am and I don’t want to give that up, just because I attend church now. I want to continue my journey in spirituality and believe in God, but I don’t want to change myself into a person I don’t recognise.

I remember ages ago I think it was 2006 and I was still working at Express Subs and Sushi and the manger Joe asked me if I was Christian. To which I said sort of. Apparently sort of does not compute with Christians so of course he asked me what I meant by it. Of course I said that I believe in God and I felt that was enough. I still don’t feel like a whole Christian. I don’t know what I am. I prefer to say I am an open minded Christian. Therefore the religious confusion continues.

P.S. I got a new haircut!

Go away butterflies

Me: Urgh I still have the butterflies.
Mom: GO AWAY BUTTERFLIES GO TO MOM’S GARDEN INSTEAD!
A few minutes later after the love butterflies have subsided.
Me: Hey yelling at them actually worked.
Mom: (chuckles) Is that right? So they are going to bug my garden and no one elses?
Me: Yes, make sure the next time you take a trip to the garden to tell them to leave me alone.
Mom: I’ll keep that in mind.
Me: Yep, they’re pretty butterflies, all blue, purple, yellow and pink, with pretty little patterns.
Mom: I shall keep an eye out for them.

It’s officially been a month since I told Pretty Blue Eyes I hearted him and I still haven’t been able to fully lick my wounds. Like I’ve said repeatedly to the point of exhaustion I can’t let it go. I think that I am over it or that I am dealing with the initial rejection but I take one look into his pretty blue eyes and wham bam I am out for six. I am elated when I am around him and then once I am home I am full of anxiety and anguish because of it. I want to share my heart with someone but they will not return it, so why do I keep torturing myself? I want to prove everyone wrong including myself. I want to put his picture in my Amy necklace. :P

Then there is the dangerous territory of jealousy. It’s turning me into a pit bull. This pretty blonde girl I will call Bee-Woman keeps hanging around Pretty Blue Eyes too. She clings to him like saran wrap and the clear cellophane wrapping is merely, just barely masking her affections. I also keep getting the impression from her that I am competition for his affections and to be frank I think I see her the same way. I want to come after her like Wild Will and yell insults at her. When I am around her and Pretty Blue Eyes I feel like I am being stung by venomous wasps, rather than kissed by pretty butterflies and I must lash out but I cannot will myself to do it. The worst part is I keep thinking that she is better for Pretty Blue Eyes because she is prettier than me, my mom gets mad at me when I say that and I do realise how irrational and stupid it is to say and think it because its not true. I am pretty and I am worthy of him in some way. I actually want to talk to her and see if perhaps I am just reading too much into things. I keep imagining her and I in the living room at Pretty Blue Eyes house during a gathering of youth like me and the room freezes and we go into this kung fu pose and claws come out and we hiss like angry cats, growl like vicious dogs and prepare for attack. Then a random guy in a suit, or sometimes one of my friends pops up from out of nowhere onto the scene and says “hey he isn’t worth fighting for, he isn’t yours to begin with.” I imagined Ashleigh in the same situation but she gets angry blue eyes when she is jealous and shoots blue death rays from her eyes, she stalks Bee-Woman to Fido-Mart and they have this big show down by the shoe department, where a curious Nigel Bottington looks on and then Philis comes toddling out during the disruptions announces how people are fighting because she is fat followed by punting Bee-Woman off the scene, followed by Ashleigh’s object of affection because he is a jerk faced poo head and her broke her nerd NERDY retarded weird girl friend’s entire heart. It’s after these imaginative episodes of all creativity and irrationality I suddenly think to myself, fight when the time is right and be patient for things to come.

I keep clinging to hope because he didn’t say he didn’t like me, he just said we could only be friends at the time and it can not ever go past friendship. Was it just a gentle let down or perhaps an invitation to keep waiting? I am glad that I know where I stand but the ground feels shaky beneath my feet now because of it. It makes it hard because now I know for sure that he knows that I like him. He gets so quiet when were together one on one, like perhaps there is more he wants to say but cannot or he feels awkward around me because he knows I like him and he doesn’t or cannot feel the same way for unknown reasons. Then again he makes a point to tease me and ask me how I am and jokes around with me, like a friend would and should. I heart him as a friend, it just hurts that it cannot go past that and I cannot tell him how much I really care. It would be so much easier if he wasn’t my friend. I want to tell him to leave me alone and go have fun with that pretty blonde girl who I swear looks at me as competition. I wish I never met him, but then I think about it and I realise his impact on me has been a positive one despite the heartbreak. It shows that I can really feel and my heart was never really lost of forgotten in Australia, only part of it was.

When I say Australia, I am referring to my friends. A year later I still pine for them. I hate how the only way to reach them on any level is a computer screen. I want to go back (with Carol of course.) to visit with them all for at least a few months and see the places in Australia I never got to go, Uluru for instance, Melbourne, random places of interest. I just want to be around them again and bask in their glorious friendship they’ve given me, I just want a hug from my good friends but its not possible most of them are overseas and another is in a different province and I can hardly afford the bus ride just to get to her. Blah!

Good grief somebody smack me! Please I am going insane from all of this.

P.S. I think I made the mistake of telling Pretty Blue Eyes that I tell Amy and Carol everything!

Picking at the scab

For the last two maybe three days in a row now, my friend Mrs. Amazing Frank Sinatra Lady says to me: So how goes the saga? (She is obviously referring to Pretty Blue Eyes and my disastrously unrequited love)
And I reply.
Me: Oh same old same old
Or
Me: No change really
Or even
Me: I am sick of guys and their mixed messages. I wish they would throw them away into the fiery pits of hell.
Mrs. Amazing Frank Sinatra Lady: You’re just going to have to deal with it. If you like him it will all work out in the end.
Or
Mrs. Amazing Frank Sinatra Lady: Just give it time. If you like him then spend time with him. You never know when it will be over…

Note this is a generalisation of all of her wisdom :). And there be many more random snippets of advice she gave me, which I wish I remembered to write down, but I know I still remember on a subconscious level. Perhaps in another entry I shall talk about my wide variety of friends of different ages and backgrounds.

It’s been over a month and I am still heartbroken. Well I feel like my wounds have healed but while it’s still a scab I keep accidentally scratching off whenever I see him or think about him and all the hurt bleeds out. It’s an open wound again. It never fully heals. No band aid can cover it up or make it feel any better. Why can’t I seem to get over this? I wonder if maybe it’s because it’s true like. The like you experience very rarely in a life time? Every time I see him I get a jolt in my heart, its agonising longing mixed with happiness, it starts in my heart and then the wonderfulness of the feeling melts with in and trickles throughout my veins to the very essence of my being in a matter of seconds. It’s irritating because I feel like he will never know, but amazing because I hope that maybe he does. I pray that if he is not the one that I feel the exact same way about another human being, the closeness, the warm feelings, the hazy eyes and the shyness of trying to talk to them. I wish I could stop picking at the scab because it feels like its becoming infected with a wide amount of both irrational and rational feelings. I think the only medicine would be accepting myself and loving myself. I was told in order for a guy to like me I have to like myself and be confident, but the truth is I don’t, I never really have. I accept myself but I don’t like it. It’s more of a self annoyance. I irritate me. I analyse everything I do and constantly my own worst critic. When will this ridiculous cycle of self annoyance end? When will I find peace with in myself and be more comfortable in my own skin? It’s been a slow battle, but I know that it is happening.

P.S. I maked a friendship bracelet for Pretty Blue Eyes and have subsequently learnt he has Mickey Mouse hands! :P

Lust or Love

Writing time again? Today I am setting aside 15 minutes…I have to catch the bus to see Tony-man features.

And now just like yesterday my mind draws a blank…

Well I am still heartbroken go figure. Perhaps I shall write a story about some advice a friend gave me.

Carma Bubbly: (You’ve been introduced to her in a previous entry. :P)Hello Beautiful! How are you?
Me: OK
Carma: Just OK? (Gives look of concern) What’s the matter?
Me: Oh I had a shitty weekend.
Carma: Why?
Me: Oh you know just family stuff, guy stuff, etc.
Carma: Oh? (Whispers) It’s probably PMS!
Me: I saw him standing with another girl. I thought I was over him, but I wasn't because I burst into tears.
Carma: You got to stop that!
Me: But I can’t help it. I still like him.
Carma: YOU GOT TO STOP THAT!
Me thinking: (Yikes!)
Me: But…
Carma: It’s just lust.
Me: I don’t think so…
Carma: It’s just lust.
Me thinking: (You said that already)
Me: But…I know it’s unhealthy and everything.
Carma: Exactly, it’s just lust. He has a nice body and he is good looking. It’s just lust.
Me thinking: (OK, OK I got your point)
Me: Yes but,
Carma: Yes I know he is a nice guy…
Me thinking: (You never actually talked to him! Grrr….)
Me: He really is.
Carma: It’s just lust sweetie.
Me thinking: (Ah forget it!)
Me: (Rolls eyes) OK…

Let me make this point clear. Officer Octogenarian was lust, lust mixed with admiration. I think this may have happened with Pretty Blue Eyes, but there is something different this time. I just can’t put my finger on it. Besides, does anyone have any idea what it’s like to be close to someone and not be able to share it with them? To feel all warm inside and wonder if they do too or if they even care? I feel all hazy whenever I see him smile. Good riddance to me and my obsessive behaviour. I am mad at Pretty Blue Eyes for rejecting me, I am mad at myself for letting it happen. Yet, it’s my own fault for being heartbroken, I took the risk, I knew this may happen. So why do I keep feeling thing may change? Is it just wishful thinking or a perfectly irrational gut feeling? Why does everyone keep telling me to let him go? Jo says to leave him in the past and I deserve much better, Carma says its lust. The only people to make sense are Mrs. Amazing Frank Sinatra Lady (another work friend, Marlon Brando Woman and Mrs. Amazing James Dean Woman has been taken.) she says if I like someone I want to be around them and I am allowed to like him because you never know how much time you have and things can change. Sam-Lady said to do what I feel is best and go with the flow. The Cashier Nazi (of all people), says that you can’t help who you love. My mom said if it makes me happy to keep hoping then go for it. Amy says he is probably gay seeing as he is too good to be true, but she thinks he sounds cool every time I talk about him and I am not sure about Carol, but I think she suggested that if he does go out with another girl I should be mad. It appears I may have inadvertently taken Carols advice last Sunday to my own emotional detriment.

P.S. I am going to take my brother out for ice cream and play dollies. Ah the joys of getting in touch with my inner child. :P

Another random rambling entry?

So I should be getting ready for work, but I’ve decided to procrastinate or set aside 30 minutes to either read or write before work. Perhaps a full 30 minutes dedicated to both if I can muster the time, but alas I slept in today. And now that I have set aside writing time I have no idea what to write about, figures. I guess this shall be another random rambling entry?

I could mention how my supervisor has been coined as my work mom by my work friends. She always talks to me in a nurturing mom type way, like not down to me like I am stupid. Did I mention I actually have work friends now? After about 7 months or more of people thinking I was too shy or snobby because I always had my head in a book. Who knew I actually had to make the effort to talk to people. Maybe it could be that I have been there almost a year and people are getting used to me.

One of my moms “friends” is a master of storytelling. She stretches the truth, telling straight out lies about my mother, the church pastor or all people, my little brother, random church members to other random church members. Some I think are intelligent to enough to see through it. She has a real talent for sucking people in, a flair with words and not in a good way. She uses them for evil for her own personal gain. Luckily as a storyteller and a person with the abilities to embellish, who unfortunately did the same thing when she was little, I am able to notice that its bull shit. It’s the tone of voice, like she is convincing herself its true as well and it’s the way she puts emphasis on her stories, the words she uses. Better yet who about another conflicting story from the person themselves? I find when people tell the truth the words come out with meaning; there is this emotion behind them, a passion of some sort. They put their trust in you and bear a part of there soul to you. When it’s a lie it feels hallow, like a story, they normally won’t even look you in the eyes, they use other peoples truth as weapons against them. I didn’t have the guts to call her on it. I feel stupid because I told her the truth because I thought I could trust her and who knows how she’ll use it against me. I should have learnt the first time because she’s done it before and it hurt my mom in the process. So I told mom and she said either I confront her or she will. I thought about tomorrow, but I am afraid I’ll get sucked in again. Not to mention if I tell her I can’t be her friend, she’ll think it’s because of my mom, which it is. So I shall stick to the truth at least I’ll be the bigger person in the end.

P.S. I’ll write more when I can actually think of something more substantial.

The rain continues :(

The sun is out - the sky is blue there’s not a cloud to spoil the view but it’s raining - raining in my heart

The weather man says clear today he doesn’t know you’ve gone away and it’s raining - raining in my heart

Oh, misery - misery what’s gonna become of me

I tell my blues they musn’t show but soon these tears are bound to flow cause it’s raining - raining in my heart

But it’s raining - raining in my heart

And it’s raining - raining in my heart

- Buddy Holly :)

I’m having another rainy day again. I realise describing my heartbreak may or may be appropriate but it has to come out somewhere or else it will stay inside me and brew. For me time doesn’t heal my wounds, it makes them fester instead. They grow into hideous boils that no amount of ointment can make them disappear or cover up.

I am miserable my heart is broken into little bits. I was so broken up inside, that I wanted to tell Pretty Blue Eyes I DON’T want to be his friend anymore because it would be so much easier to give up on him. I know in my heart that I can’t I must be patient and perhaps it will grow into a meaningful friendship at best. I understand why he can’t be more than friends right now and I know that I’m not ready for a relationship, especially since I don’t even know who I am anymore. I’ve lost my identity or perhaps never really had it. I mean there was a brief glimpse of who Melissa was in Australia, but she got swallowed up in the ocean on her way back to Canada. I want to go back to Australia and see if she is still there perhaps she swam to shore and she is waiting for me. I can almost hear her calling for me, wondering where I am.

I wrote Pretty Blue Eyes a letter, one that he will NOT read, but it made me feel better because I feel like I let him go or at least the ideal of him. I tried telling my mom about how I feel concerning my brother and my missing father, but she just reacted with mild caring. All she said was how she wishes she could make me feel better and hopes it’s not about her. Well it is! She’s broken my heart so many times its not funny.

I want to leave this place in my life. I don’t ever want to see my mom, Pretty Blue Eyes or even Tony ever again. They all broke my heart, one never understands me and denied me my birth father, one broke my heart despite the fact that I put myself out there and another stole my mother and my childhood away from me.

P.S. Reality is one big bitch slap in the face.

My search for the missing link

So I started looking for my birth father this week. I haven’t had much luck. I called social services, but the whole confidentiality thing came up. Then I tried the courts, but the court case between my mom and father predated the computer system and I found out that my mom has to contact the courts because it is her file. Again the confidentiality arises. I asked my mom, but I am not sure if she is willing. Both times I asked people for information and when it was apparent that none could be given, the conversation ends with “good luck.” As if I am doing something brave and endearing, but it would be nice if someone said something other than that. However, I have found out that birth fathers are easier to find then mothers because they are not likely to change there names. No one said this was going to be easy. I sometimes wish this wasn’t a burden I had to bear. It’s not my fault but I am the one paying for it. I know my mom might take offense to this, but every time I bring up the f word she seems so indifferent followed by apologies on how she didn’t try harder, etc…

Perhaps I should go back to the beginning about how this whole journey started. The obvious would be mom meets boy, mom likes boy, mom makes sweet, sweet love to boy and then nine months later I arrive. Unfortunately, the other contribution to my DNA (because right now my father might as well be a sperm donor than an actual father) went MIA. My mom tried to tell him that she was pregnant with me but he called her a liar and broke her entire heart.

Then about 16 years ago welfare located my father and made my mom and him to court over child support. I vaguely remember talking to her about it at the time. Unfortunately, my brother who was just recently diagnosed with epilepsy and cerebral palsy was in a not so good way to so my mom skipped out of court and took Tony to the children’s hospital, leaving the link still missing. I am not angry at my mom because I am assuming it was a tough decision, but I still feel like she robbed me of a chance of at least knowing who he was. I wish I knew more than a name or how I have his curly hair.

If she only knew that sometimes if I stare into the mirror I see half of who I am missing. That for some years I used to say he was dead because people seemed to understand that better. I used to feel ashamed and angry that I didn’t know him for some reason and it was awkward as hell when people asked about my parents. Not knowing one of your birth parents is hard to explain the emptiness to ones who do. I can’t believe I wasted all these years to finally get the courage to find the missing link. It’s scary because I think I have to do it on my own.

P.S. I hope a certain someone changes his mind. :P

The world of many hats

Have you ever noticed how people wear different hats? This is over course metaphorically and when I refer to hats I am thinking in terms of attitudes, actions and personality.

For instance, a co-worker who is cashier supervisor is this elegant, gentle, sweet and kind person, someone you’d like to talk too, but once she is at work again she is a cashier Nazi of all bossiness on a friggen power trip, like she is trying to prove how awesome she is. Lets face she is mean! She can’t even ask you to do something in a nice way. Sadly most of my fellow cashiers only seem to see this particular hat she wears. I am not sure if she is aware of this or perhaps she feels she has to act like this to prove herself. When she is like this I can’t stand her, but then I remind myself of the really nice person I chat with on my breaks sometimes. She even cheered me up once when I had a bad day. :) It’s like she is the same person, but there are two separate sides, two different hats she wears. It’s weird because she is still the same person and I like her, she is still herself.

Then there is my friend from church, who also happens to be a pastor. You would never know he is a pastor, much less a Christian unless he told you or unless you already knew he was. The thing is he is so genuine at church and on the outside it is hard not to like him. On one end he is this charismatic, people person who is brilliant with words (I really envy his talent) and shares his beliefs openly if you ask him, but he wouldn’t try to push it on you. Oddly this is one both sides of him. The change in the hats he wears isn’t as noticeable as some people. Sometimes he comes across as arrogant, but if you get to know him its merely confidence. He kind of just glides between hats gracefully the line is blurred yet you know he is wearing a different face when he is not doing church things. Perhaps the hats are blended together because he is so genuine. In fact he is so charming that he leaves people in awe of him. Men want to be his best buddy in the entire world and woman are totally enamoured to the point they want to marry him and have his future babies. He is blessed as he claims to be “really, really good looking,” as well as beautiful on the inside. I’ve heard women after he has left the building, as if he owns it I might add express how they want to do naughty things with him. This really kind of annoys me because he is more than just a good looking guy, an object of sexual desire, its as if his looks are another hat he wears whether he wants to or not. Although, I am pretty sure he does like wearing it. :P It just leaves me wondering if people who are more aesthetically pleasing to the eye have troubles finding someone who looks past the beauty and sees the inner beauty.

I am sure I wear many different hats too, but I am unsure of what they all are and when I am wearing them. I know I am mostly likely to change hats when I am around my mom, around my friends or at work. I think it’s because people change them without noticing. It’s just a part of them. Some are forced because you want Then same goes with my friends I see no wardrobe changes, perhaps I am so used to them I too do not notice. However my brother he wears no hats he is who he is all the time. He’d be the one person to eat hats rather then wear one, as are many of my other friends, both special needs and everyday people. I appreciate them because there are no surprises with them.

P.S. The search for my birth father begins…

Ignorant People!!!

I had a really good day today. Firstly, I thought I worked an eight hour shift today, but then I realised once I double checked the schedule that I was four hours early. But it turned out because I hung out with my little brother instead. It was fun. Tony gave me this big hug when he saw me. It was like time stopped and all this joy came rushing along. This feeling is the best in the entire world. I had the best day because of it.

I am continually surprised by how people treat the disabled and special needs community. It irritates me to know end. I was trying to take my brother to the washroom today and a little old lady also on the way to the washroom saw that I had my brother with me. Stopped right in front of the door and refused to let us in. She just pointed at the sign that says ladies. She gave me a worried expression, “the oh boys aren’t allowed in the women’s washroom.” Yes because I could just as easily take him into the men’s? I think was pretty damn rude! When my brother has to go he has to go. I said “get over it he’s special needs. We need to get in now or he is going to pee all over the floor.” I shoved past her. AND then the stupid cow went and hid in the stall until we were finished because it was soooo embarrassing having a male in the washroom. Anyways I digress this incident really pissed me off. I detest ignorant people with the passion of a 1000 fiery suns. Grrrr…..I’m sick of there stares and there judgements.

Then a couple days before that Tony and I were at the Salvation Army dolly/ toy rescuing and I guess he made a mess as he tends to empty all the toy bins and sit in the middle of the floor and play with them. Mom and I (mostly me) then cleans up afterwards and the staff doesn’t really have a problem with it. However bitchy customers who aren’t intelligent enough to ask why or even perhaps maybe walk around him instead of nearly stepping on my brother while giving him contemptuous dirty looks seem too. So I asked one such customer what her problem was as he is special needs and if you said excuse me he is polite enough to move aside for you. She returned the judgemental look of all evilness to me. To which I shouted to my mom across the store. I wonder what peoples problems are? Needless to say I got even more mean looks. Who cares? I am tired of taking a passive viewing of ignorance towards my brother, the most genuine human being around. Anyone being indecent to my brother will have a red glowing mean scarlety big sister after them.

Oh yes I might also add Tony, his friend Sherry who is a wheel chair I might add really appreciate being nearly ran over by bikes and/or skate boards. Not to mention nearly walked into because apparently special needs people are invisible or are supposed to blend in with everyone else. Yes and it also wonderful when people use the tables which are designated for special needs people! It’s not right when someone who comes for coffee at Timmy’s feels subconscious because the only space she can get is blocking the aisle a bit. I constantly reminded her that they can walk around her. It was no big deal, but apparently it was.

Then of course on the opposite end, there are others who are the opposite who appreciate people no matter what. One of my friends is totally cool with Tony. He even put up with his bubble kisses, despite the big glob of spit on him. Even let him steal his coffee. Then there is the odd random person says hello and treats my brother like everyone should be treated. Not to mention the nice cashiers at Tim Horton who will give my brother a Tim Bit for 2 cents, just because. These people give me hope that there are still good people out there.

I like to hang around special needs people more than able bodied people sometimes because they are real. They don’t have this façade going on. They are who they are. I am sick of society and there constant ideal of normality, a normality that is entirely subjective.

I think I am done with my rant now.

P.S. I’ve rescued at least 20 plus dolls now, no thanks to Tony. :P

Packing on Canada Day!

Happy Canada Day!

July 1st has always been kind of a special day for me. I moved out on my own for the first time. I was 19 and now 5 years later it feels like I am back to square one. Will I ever achieve independence again? How can I maintain my independence when I live at home with my mother, whom I think depends on me for a lot? I miss doing my own thing. My centre of my universe has been off centre for awhile now that I seem to be the centre of other peoples instead.

Anyways…

You think I would be doing something patriotic today, but alas I am packing and visiting with the dogs. I am glad to be moving but I could do with out the packing, cleaning and organising. I still have a long way to go and my entire room is a mess. It looked like a tornado has ripped through it and stripped any individuality it once had and spit up a bunch of displaced objects, boxes and garbage.

I keep finding stuff and thinking why on earth do I have this? Why did I keep this then I think about it and still keep it! Something of the things I find have sentimentality attached to it, like the things from Australia. But really all I care about is my books, DVD’s my journals, my photos, my camera my craft stuff, maybe my collectables and the dolls. (I’ll explain those later.) But for some reason I have toys, heaps of toys that I collected before Australia and some after. So I am attempting to find out which ones are special to me and which ones can be given away to Salvation Army, my brother or my friend Erica. Then I have random junk, and for some reason every single assignment since high school till university! I can’t decide if I need them or not. I might just have to let go of some of the sentimentality and do a massive give away. I seriously save everything I can get my hands on that I think will be useful for later or I just like for some random reason. It’s kind of scary.

I have recently taken my collecting obsession all the way back to a time when I was a child. I time when I made stories with 11 inch plastic actors. I’ve recently begun searching second hand stores which profit charities I might add for second hand Barbie dolls. A lot of the ones I have found feel abandoned, they are dirty and naked. Some have pen ink in their hair. These abandoned toys have all these stories behind them, who owned them, what games were they played in. They were loved once, but obviously not enough to get forgotten about and placed in a big giant bin at the Salvation Army or squirreled away in a corner of a dirty self at the Hospital Auxiliary. This all started I might add when my brother insisted I have girl toys.

I am on the opposite end of rejection. When I was 11 I started giving my dolls away thinking that I was too old for them. I had lost interest in them. I abandoned them. Luckily someone else took them in and began new stories and new relationships.

P.S. Mom said it was Sydney and Weiser Day!