Absense makes writing more fonder?

It feels weird to write again. It’s been over 2 years since I have shared anything on a blog. 2 years, 2 months and 19 days to be exact.

 
A lot can happen in 2 years.

I read a lot of books, worked a lot of work, dreamed a lot of dreams, gained new interests, dealt with depression, anxiety and finally saw my grandmother after 17 years.  

I feel like I’ve grown out of this writing thing.

Where have I been the last 2 years?  Who wants to read what I have to say? I’ve been so brutally honest in the past that is has caused a lot of trouble and hurt people needlessly.

Depressed that’s what?! Depression is a dark scary monster. It has sucked nearly all the words out of me, leaving my soul bare. My creativity has suffered a slow and painful death. It has taken a very vital part of me. I feel bad if I say I am a writer.

 I choose to rescue my writer self. For weeks in my journals, if I can focus enough to write, (depression makes it hard to focus on anything) I keep writing to myself:

 “I need to write more.”  “I have to write more!” “My writing is suffering.” Etc.

I choose to fight back and tell myself that I can write again, I can beat the darkness that is draining me. The fact that I am starting to produce words again in some form is positive sign. I can slowly feel myself get better. It’s a work in progress. I am healing.

P.S. Haben sie mien do do gesehen?

 

May my writing dilemmas be solved!

May has started off scatterbrained. Perhaps the poem from Fizzy Lemonade may explain a bit?

Silly
Cat why are you
Always
Telling me
To cry
Every rainy day
Bring back the
Rich feelings rather then all the
Insane
Niceness masquerading as nastiness
Ending
Dastardly as always

For starters I messed up my work schedule again. I thank the Lord I have a billion brownie points saved up for occasions like these. You see I’ve been sick with a cold of all dastardliness. It starts off in the chest then migrates to head cold. I hardly ever get sick so when I do watch out.

Yesterday was Election Day here in Canada. I was sick, so no going out to vote for me. I was pretty stoked to hear the NDP is the official opposition, but just as disappointed that Harper and the Conservatives have the majority. I wonder if I had voted and infected everyone at the election hall with all my germs if my one vote could have changed that. I guess I will never know.
Another thing I notice when I walk by the garden centre at work on my way to work where is the plants? WTF? Was it such a late spring that they are not here yet? I mean there are some plants but not as much as there usually is! This just proves I’ve been at this job for way to long. I think some evil scarlety monster must have stolen them. (no I don’t mean Mrs. Lachlan’s Mum) It’s May, there are usually tills all caked with dirt, cashiers cleaning said tills and customers all cheery coming up with flats of pretty smelling flowers. It’s MAY! Last time I checked the green thumbs crawl out of there houses in early March. The plants must have got delayed when old man winter decided to extend winter till mid March. I hope Mr. Summer punches him in the face.

Now to what I really want to write about….

This month I endeavour to write more. I dreamt all the girls as far as I know were writing all these short stories and getting published but I kept missing out because I stopped writing as much as I used too. I have dreams about characters, stories and/or future characters and stories. Characters harass me in my dreams demanding I notice them again. Maybe it’s a weird writer imagination thing?

It reminds me of a conversation with a friend of mine at work. I’ll call her Daffodil because its random and not that it’s an incriminating story but well perhaps she’d like to remain anonymous.

Daffodil: So have you been writing lately?
Me: Not as much as I should be I guess…so not very much.
Daffodil: Don’t writers write everyday?
Me: I guess I am not much a writer these days?
Daffodil: I thought that is what they do?

In retrospect I should have mentioned how perhaps writers get busy or maybe burned out and take a break from living, breathing and eating words all the time? Yes, “a writer writes always,” but sometimes it takes dedication to make sure it happens on a continual basis.

I think I’ve all ready had my rant on the labels and expectations on what it means to be a writer. It may be assumed that writers devour and consume words on a daily basis and are lost in sentences and paragraphs. I see words when I think of things, but I forget to write them down. Does that mean I have neglected my craft? I’ve been labelled a writer for so long, I forget that it means I also must conform to the can of soups directions and ingredients meant for writers. Whatever the hell it is anyways?

What is a writer? Here is what I think it means along with pictures to illustrate.

"I write differently then I are speak!"

A writer is….

A thinker…

A reader too re: the age old adage “always read because it makes you a better writer.”

"Oh boy I am a reader. I love reading!"

Imaginative

Creative

Always original ideas (No idea is original :P)

Is obscenely intelligent

Went to school for some sort of writing profession and are working in it.

Are a best selling novelist

“Oh boy I am just like Charlaine Harris!”

They know how to write anything from novels, poetry, screenplays, etc.

Knows every single word in the English language (or which ever language they are born into)

Never has to use spell checker

Is a grammar Nazi

They know how to use words effectively, perfectly, erroneously

Help people feel things and think about the world (This I think is possible!)

Heaven forbid, there should never be kinks in their prose, no flaws in there works

A writer can’t be human forget how to phrase something or have little ticks about them, have grammar demons or write inaccurate ballonium (it’s a new word I made up :P)

Writers have editors? Of course to keep away the predators, like all the above stuff I just mentioned.

"Take that grammar demons mwhahahhaha!!!!"

Writers are not perfect, that is why they are so well loved. If all writers and writing was perfect then know one would know a person wrote it down. Flaws, bad grammar, intelligence or lack there of, funny sentence structure is important because it shows that it is original thought! A person wrote this, not some robot.

What I really want to know is; can a writer and a person be separate? I am a writer. I am a person. It is something that I love and I do, but is it who I am? Am I, Melissa who is a writer or Melissa the writer? I prefer the first one. It’s a slice of my identity, not the whole pie. One piece of the puzzle, not the whole picture.f I do have other hobbies.

I bake pies!

I sew!

Just to name a few things....

I don’t want to be labelled but I hve no choice in the matter. It is flattering that people think of me this way, but I really just want to be me. A person who writes, loves words, has grammar and/or spelling issues. I will “write differently then I speak!” I won’t be the soup in the can labelled writer. I will be me! The more I tell myself that the more I will stop worrying about what other people think. If people use the writer part of me as an attack I will fight the battle of the categories. I will not worry about the so called ingredients belonging to a writer. I will worry about the pieces that make me! Now if only I could practice that on a daily basis!

P.S. I like dolls so I guess that makes me creepy?

P.S.S. I can't get blogger to publish the entry they way I want it. Grrrr.... I apologise for the spaceyness and the odd alignments. Rah!

When tea parties go wrong...

One of the many things I do when I spend time with my brother is have tea parties.

But rather then have a party of two I invited five plastic beings of prettiness. Claudine. Napoleon, Hollie, Claudette, and Viola

Someone spiked the drinks so after awhile. They seem to think it was pretty hilarious to wear the tea cups on their head.

As you can see things got out of hand…especially for one in particular.

When Napoleon got home…(See picture below)…

She was a bit rowdy and got in a fight with Mrs. Lachlan’s Mum.

It didn’t end well.

This is why I don’t bring anymore dollies to my brother’s tea parties. :P Wall repair is expensive. THE END!

P.S. This is what happens when you are bored and can’t think of anything to write about…

Flying through March…

Sunday, March 27, 2011

March always seems to be the month that moves forward…

Moving

Around

Running

Chuckling

Hilariously

When I think of March, I think spring. Joyfulness is in the air, the sun shines, birds sing and the days are longer. I love birds the way they hope around on the ground daintily and graceful and fly away effortlessly. I wonder what it would be like to fly. Exhilarating? Scary maybe… I flew on planes before, but I can’t look out the window when the plane is over the ocean because I have a phobia of dying in a plane particularly into an ocean. :S So flying overseas now that I think of it was especially brave.

It’s been an interesting month, moving to a new place on my own. It’s expensive, but peaceful. Other then that it’s same old same old, same friends, same job, same family, the only excitement I get is hearing others telling me about how awful their lives are, then learning how to cross stitch (I’m obsessed) and playing Lego with my brother (I like building things :P) are a few things.

I’m thinking I should be endeavouring to write more the rest of the year as well, but it’s hard some days. I keep forgetting I can rely on words to get me through and it’s even more frustrating when I let hundreds of beautiful ideas slip past. Rats!

P.S. I am finally able to bake my brother an apple pie.

February!

February, what is there to say about this month? It’s the shortest and often still the coldest part of the year. It’s not my favourite.

Frigid

Ever

Believing

Ridiculously

Absolutely

Really

Yucky!

I’ve never liked February! For several reasons, Firstly, hours at work are cut back no matter which job I have so I am much poorer. Especially after the nice fat pay checks of December it just feels more like a particular blow, secondly Valentines Day, thirdly it’s usually cold and dark.

I’ve come a long way since February last year mind you. My brain is still rattled when I read about how love sickly destitute I was.

In February 2006 I traveled to Australia. It was -21 C with a wind-chill when I left Calgary, therefore it felt like – 30 C. (I still don’t understand why they have all this wind-chill B.S.) When I arrived in Brisbane two days later, (I lost a day due to the International Date Line) it was in the high 30’s C. I got a cold because of it and heat sick. That part wasn’t fun. I remember being at the domestic airport and for some strange reason I wanted to see which way the water went when toilet flushed; sure enough it went the opposite of home in Canada. I even remember which books I read on the trip over, Enders Game and Memoirs of a Geisha. This was the only time February meant something to me. I had something in this month to look forward too. I didn’t care that I worked at McDonalds because I was going to Australia. Now all I have is March 1st, the Library, random visits with my brother, treasure hunting at the Sally Ann and wonky shifts at Wal-Mart. Pfft! No Australia, no new adventures right about the corner. It sucks.

Mind you this February I discovered another author I like, William Kotzwinkle and my hours have been relatively consistent considering the hours could be much worse. And considering how cold it is. It’s nice that I live so close to work now…

February and winter months in general are the times where I withdraw and hibernate. Not that I don’t find comfort in my own company, but I do miss talking to people. We talk, we share stories; I like how everyone I’ve ever met has something different about them. Sometimes it helps me remember some people have harder problems then me. Anyone who knows me, knows I love to rant about stuff that bugs me, then when I hear about things from other people It makes me wonder why I rant all the time. It’s not like I expect them to give feed back or feel sorry for me I just want to bitch to someone and I don’t mind people wanting to bitch to me either.

I haven’t met anyone who says they like February either. But March is good because it means spring is coming. Everyone seems to be looking forward to spring.

This February has been particularly weird. I’ve somehow stumbled into a dictatorship oriented shared accommodation. I now live with Mrs. AR or Mrs. Anal Retentive. I could go on but my rants usually get me in a whole lot of trouble. I’ll let the name I give her speak for itself. Perhaps February makes people extra nutty. I will tell you this though I don’t think you can tell a full grown woman when to go to bed. If I make even the slightest noise past 10 p.m. she is at my door telling me how I woke her up and what a terribly noisy person I am, etc. She reminds me of my grandmother. That is not a good thing. Sometimes I want to tell her to eat me, but I don’t think that option would be particularly tasty.

February is almost over….enough said.

P.S. I am stronger then people give me credit for.

Me and Mormonism Part 6: I’m no longer censoring myself!

I’m making my blog public again!

Well it appears I have neglected this space for sometime. I will admit the last few months since the “Red Sweater Apology” fiasco and how the “poisonous secret ” came out. I’ve had troubles writing. I feel like I have to censor myself. So yes there may be something’s people don’t like, but they can choose not to read it. If I wrote something offensive towards someone then they can tell me and I will try to make amends but I won’t apologise for who I am anymore. I like to write and I am brutally honest, the end!

But I digress I shall write what I came to write about…which is why I want to make it public again.

They’ve found me….I don’t know how but they found me! Actually I do, I gave them my number. I was minding my own business eating an everything bagel with cream cheese (nom, nom, nom :P) When my phone rang when who should it be but Mormon Missionaries!

Me: (eating my yummy bagel when the phone rings)

Guy on phone: Hi Melissa it’s the Missionaries!

Me: Urgh? OK?

Me thinking: WTF?

Missionary person: Can we come visit you sometime?!

Me thinking: NO NEVER!

Me: I guess….

Missionary: (sort of picking up my apprehension) OK so are you free next week sometime?

Me: Yes….Ummm I moved…

Missionary: Oh OK? Where do you live?

Me: Well I live…

Me thinking: IDIOT! Why did I just tell him that?

Missionary: OK we’ll call next week and maybe you’re free so we can visit.

Me thinking: HELP, HELP HELP!

I specifically told them when I had my name removed NOT to contact me and I thought perhaps I was lucky and they decided to accept my request. Like I’ve said before I made up my mind, my decision was final and according to them I am no longer a member, why did they wait till now to contact me. According to them I am eternally damned and I cannot receive exaltation, etc.

Thoughts like these popped up moments later:

Is this a time for apologetics?

No wait I cannot attack their faith!

Maybe this is an opportunity to tell someone from the church how I really feel?

Are they trying to reconvert me?

If I am no longer and inactive member does this mean I am investigator again?

God help me!

Why didn’t I just tell them on the phone I wasn’t interested?

I could have mentioned how I am no longer a member?

I could talk to the pastor of my church?

No, no I should face them on my own. They are not bad people!

Religion and I are like oil and water, we just don’t mix well. Last night I dreamt I was standing before a large lake wearing a pretty gold robe and the pastor baptised me. Just before this I felt sickening anxiety I DID not want to do it, but I told myself that I should get it over and done with because I do believe. During the baptism which magically was in the baptismal font I inhaled water and drowned. I believe in God, but I don’t want to be tied down to any specific denomination. I am OK to call myself Christian, but I don’t want to be a Baptist, Presbyterian, Lutheran, Catholic, etc. I just want to believe in God, frequent a church that believes in Him too, but no one seems to understand that.

P.S. I miss my doggy :(

Analyzing passive aggressive?

I guess its good I made this blog private, because I can be a little more open, this time it’s more about sharing with people I invited, rather then the whole world. I don’t want the whole anonymous B.S. to happen again. I was looking over previous comments and I found more comments from the anonymous commenter (s) why does it still bother me? I thought I was over this?

So I re-read some of the stuff I wrote when I was overcome with the jealousy bug and it was mean and I’ve come to realise that perhaps I never knew this girl at all. If there was ever a potential for friendship it ended the day I decided to post my deep and darkest feelings. The funny thing is I remember before I posted it thinking this will get me into big trouble. And it seems like the last dream I wrote about…

“Then I dreamt last night I was telling my friends about this girl in a similar non-identifying style of this blog and one friend knew who I was talking about. I was angry in this dream because I was frustrated with this person and said I have no one to vent too or say how I am feeling because of the backlash it would cause. I had no friends at the end of the dream, I ran away screaming and crying yet again.”

…was a self fulfilling prophesy! I mean I did have a one on one conversation with a friend. I realised what I did was horrible I ran away crying and I don’t think my relationship with any of my friends has been the same since….

Mind you deep down I wanted to write it too.

“It’s awkward as, hanging around with her. I am keeping this poisonous secret and its making me bitter to know end!”

So I guess now it’s not a poisonous secret. It brings me back to my previous entry, where I acknowledged there are different interpretations of texts. They don’t say the pen is mightier then the sword for nothing.

Maybe I was being passive aggressive. In fact I really wish I could come up with a good description of what passive aggressiveness is. Does it mean the actions are passive, but the intent is aggressive? Passive aggressive is actually something used in the wrong context.

The dictionary says:

Passive Aggressive (adj.) Of, relating to, or having a personality disorder characterized by habitual passive resistance to demands for adequate performance in occupational or social situations, as by procrastination, stubbornness, sullenness, and inefficiency.

One description might be:

A customer at a burger joint is being a not-wat and instead of the servers saying I don’t appreciate how you are treating me they spit in there burger and serve it too them with a smile. They did a very nasty thing whilst remaining polite. The customer is unsuspecting, eats burger, employee is stoked because they got one on this mean nasty person.

Another would be:

Me dropping my roommates toothbrush in the toilet after she leaves me a note regarding my lack of response in cleaning the bathroom. (See previous entry re: Boiling Point) Leaving a note in reply instead of confronting her and explaining how it wasn’t appreciated is equally passive aggressive. In retrospect its just being petty and mean. Might as well call it what it is.

It’s like the little kid whose been told to do chores, they do them they take obscenely longer then normal or won’t even do them at all.

Some might even say passive aggressiveness is a form or covert abuse. Passive aggressive behaviour is actually a medical condition believe it or not. From research I have deduced it means to be outwardly calm and accepting everyone with ambivalence, but on the inside it’s like Godzilla Raaaaarrrr! The person then shows this by doing mean things subtly, like sulking or procrastination. I don’t think I can properly answer this in a way I can understand.

References:

http://www.straightdope.com/columns/read/2453/what-is-passive-aggressive

http://www.straightdope.com/columns/read/2453/what-is-passive-aggressive

http://www.buzzle.com/articles/what-does-passive-aggressive-mean.html

P.S. My animal personality is a penguin :P

You’re a writer…?

This is a common misdemeanour I encounter as a “writer” I will say and/or write something that is either misinterpreted or comes out the wrong way and they will say.

“You’re a writer…I think you could express this better, etc, etc.”

Either it’s a joke, a slap in the face or some other intention. Is this a common thing for writers to go through?

Here is an example via text message.

Grace: Don’t forget rent is due tomorrow please! J

Me thinking: Oh brother!

Me: I don’t need the reminders. I think I am capable of remembering.

Grace: If you have something you want to discuss with me you do it in person. And as I gave the reminder to Viola it wasn’t personal and it won’t happen again.

Me thinking: Darn it I had a feeling she’d take it the wrong way…oh crap oh crap she is pissed.

Me: I meant it as you don’t have to worry, not as an attack sorry if I upset you and I have rent by the way.

Grace: Well then as a writer, perhaps you should consider how you use your words. I do need to have a second with you tonight if you’re home.

My thoughts: BITCH! Grace scares the crap out of me by the way.

Let’s just say I spent way over the 30 minutes to dwell rule my friend Chris and I instated, but fudge it really pissed me off. I had to thank my mom for the hot chocolate and the bitch when I talked to her today. I was Melzilla earlier…

Any human who rents with half a brain knows the 1^st of the month (hear in Canada anyways) rent is due. I probably shouldn’t have said anything, but she’s been reminding me for six months since I moved in. The frustration I feel right now is irritating. As a writer I know words do not belong to me, but to everyone. Why do people think I should word things differently just because I like to write? They fling it at me as a point of attack! What is a writer anyway? I’d like to know Grace’s definition.

So I wanted to give my months notice, but the douche got one on me and is giving me my notice. Apparently I am too sensitive about my boundaries and it’s something I’ve been talking about since I moved in, but what really got me was…This was after she accused me of hiding my peppermint tea because I may have noticed she was drinking it by mistake and she didn’t want me to think she was stealing my food…Oh brother!

Grace: You know for someone who says we (roomies) are passive aggressive your message was passive aggressive.

Me: No it wasn’t, you interpreted it that way.

Grace: No it was passive aggressive. That’s how it sounded.

Me: No words are subject to interpretation, so what I take from words might be different then yours.

Grace: (Irksome grin) So, when you said we were being passive aggressive that was you interpreting it that way?

Me: Yes of course just like you took my message the wrong way from what was intended and that’s your issue not mine.

Grace: OK that’s all I wanted to say…

I am sick of people thinking they understand how I think or how I should act, speak or write because I am thought of as a writer. I am sick of the wisecracks. Is there other crafts or professions who get this too… “Oh you work at Wal-Mart therefore you should know the whole place inside out.” Or “you’re a mom you should be more sensitive.” It’s like I am being defined by a stereotype.

What is a writer? Not all writers are the same, yes some have the master over words and imagination, but some have grammar issues, some cannot spell, some cannot even bare the sight of a dictionary and some are actually equally good at math (I met a writer who had a math degree). Some writers write screen plays, some poems, some journalism related stories. It was like the time the pastor of my church wanted me to write a poem for church about God. Apparently it was a “solid poem” but I took no joy in writing it. I am not a poet! But because I am a writer I automatically should be considered for this task, never mind my areas of writing or preferences are journalism, journaling and writing novels/short stories.

I am not a poet, and I know it, but I am a journalist in waiting and a storyteller at heart, but I’ve been lumped into the “writer category.” And using something that is a part of me as an attack is wrong!

P.S. I got asked to move out in January!

Boiling Point

I have two roommates:

One I have named Grace and the other Viola, Grace loves Grace Kelly and Viola is very musical.

Despite the fact this blog causes problems, I’ve made it private so I can go back to my honest opinions. I am going to be mean. In fact because its private I could use real names but I like the made up ones better….

I have something to say. My frustration with roommates (flatmates) has reached a boiling point. I like them, yet I have no patience for either of them.

I was really upset at one of my roommate Viola last night. I was late by two days cleaning the bathroom because apparently according to Grace who owns the place decided that every Sunday one of us has floor duty or bathroom duty. The later is mainly shared between Viola and me becauseGrace has her own. She cleans the shower in the rotation. Anyways, because of not doing it when expected I got a lovely note on the bathroom mirror.

"Melissa, the bathroom doesn't clean up itself."

Needless to say I was pretty choked about it and I felt like going into attack mode, which I think is something my mom does, but I digress. At 11 p.m. I cleaned, and then I left a note of my own saying:

“The bathroom doesn’t clean itself, but I did. I hope it is up to your utmost satisfaction. Thank you for the reminder.”

So of course I heard about it from the other roommate Grace who defended Viola and said it was sarcasm and maybe Viola was upset because I spend too much time helping my mom rather then doing my duties in the house or perhaps she was to P.O.’d about it to say anything and perhaps a note was just a nice way of saying something to me. Nice way? More like a passive aggressive bitchy way. And apparently if I didn’t like receiving a note why would Viola. Hmmmm….maybe that is why I left one and maybe that is why I “accidentally” dropped her toothbrush in the toilet. She wants to be a bitch I can be one too. Enough said.

I understand why Viola was upset but she could have talked to me in a mature manner and I would have apologized cleaned the bathroom and perhaps explained the lateness. Yes I was helping my mom yesterday but I had also just finished working 6 days straight mostly 8 hour shifts in which time was limited, not an excuse but a reason and didn’t mean I wasn’t going to do it. Patience is a virtue Viola obviously lacks. The whole you have to clean such and such on such and such a day is retarded. If I wanted to live in a dictatorship I’d time travel to Russia during Stalin’s regime. It doesn’t help they are both anal about it. It’s still the day of and they are after me reminding me. I have to wash my baking dishes because I am baking fiend (understandably) but Viola doesn’t? Christ that makes me angry! I wish Grace and Viola would stop being such a dish Nazis!

I accidentally put clothes on the dryer which are apparently littered with cat hairs (probably because Grace’s cat Lucy is imprisoned there 90% of the time) and Viola makes a snarky comment about how I made a terrible mistake and she is allergic, etc. I apologised her response was still equally sarcastic. Hmmmm….

This is not to say that I don’t like them. I have had good moments but right now my frustration is oozing down the sides of the pot from over boiling and its kind flowed over the good times.

P.S. I am making Fudge cupcakes for Tony for his birthday AND to celebrate the fact he gets a permanent home. WOOT!

I want to know why?

Today a sermon about Gods love at church really made me think. Actually it kind of pissed me off. The premise (using the story of Lazarus) was pain and how it shows you, you need Jesus. Pain shakes up your life so you realise you need to depend on him because humans are self-centred bastards who would rather do things by themselves then ask God for help. So God makes us suffer because he loves us and he wants us to see that? Why would a loving God want people to suffer?

It made me think of how my brother suffers so much. Recently he broke his foot and had to have surgery on it. He now has Osteoporosis added to his ever alarming list of problems. If God loves all of us why would he allow someone to have so many disabilities and barriers? Where was God when my brother was born? Why does my family have to stand by and watch him suffer? If this is God’s will then it royally sucks! It’s not fair damn I am not blaming Him, I am just wondering…. I don’t even know if my brother even has a relationship with Jesus or knows about Him because he can’t communicate it to me. And Christians some wonder how some can become Atheists!

I asked two people at church today and my mom not one could answer my question properly to my satisfaction.

1. Just looked at me blankly almost confused and finally after a couple of awkward seconds said “some questions you can’t answer. It’s not fair but its life.” Pfft! Mind I think if I asked around some more this would be a common one.
2. The second one compared my brother to the Chilean mine rescue of 30 and the horrible earthquake in the same country which killed 300. So basically Tony is on the 300 side. Seriously?
3. My mom said this God gave my brother a high pain threshold because he knew he’d be in a lot of pain. She doesn’t blame God either. Nice answer Hev-Lady seeing as you didn’t answer my damn question.

Here is what I think. Maybe Tony is the way he is because when they are around him they’re filled with goodness my brother has (That’s not to say he doesn’t have any darkness in his personality because believe me he does). You can see the good side of humanity, people’s compassion, the ability to look past all the medical labels and see a person who brings joy and makes them laugh. He is a treasure underneath all the pain. However, why does he have to have so much hardship in order to see these things? I see a 20 year-old guy a work, a cocky, moody, self absorbed regular guy and I think, that should have, could have been my brother, (minus the cocky self absorbed bit :P). I guess I won’t be able to properly answer this question, but it doesn’t mean I don’t or still won’t think I about it.

P.S. I nearly dropped the f-bomb in front of two little kids whilst I was discussing last week’s power outage.

Returning to my love

It feels good to be back! By that I mean behind my computer or with my notebook, with words again. I think I abandoned them, but it really isn’t possible because I use words every day, I think this applies to everyone.

A friend Sam-Lady (whom I haven’t written about in a while. She was a flatmate from which seems like eons ago who was harassed by a fire breathing rat-faced poo-head named Elise-Woman! Rah! Yes, yes, yes, I am using the mean words again but if you ever met her and got on this persons bad side…) said to me three words.

“You should write!”

I agree. I should but I don’t. It occurred to me I haven’t written a proper story for about four years. I have all these ideas swimming around in my head, I write them down but I don’t take it to the level the counts. I don’t turn it into what the idea is supposed to be, a story. Not to mention I haven’t been writing so processing my thoughts has gone down hill. A friend at work, I’ll call her Chip (because she is so chipper :P) even noticed I wasn’t myself, wondering if perhaps I am letting my new job get to me. On the contrary I find it very amusing. (More on that in a minute) The thing is I haven’t been writing and it’s depressing me. I forced myself to write some of my story Fizzy Lemonade, the sequel to Song of the Superheroes (which I started almost 3 years ago). I had the joy in my heart that I hadn’t felt in donkey’s ages. I have troubles concentrating like I used too but I tried.

People fascinate me I see some people around town that I could base characters off. For instance:

The morbidly obese guy who rides the bus: He takes up a whole row of seats. He has dirty blonde hair which looks like it hasn’t been washed in months; a scruffy beard, has a cane with a skull on it and is always wearing a leather jacket. Yesterday I saw him wearing a black velour cape. He could be a bus pirate. :P

Then there is the adorable tiny Asian woman: who coincidentally rides the bus too. She wears her pants practically up to her arm pits with bright pink socks. She like me always has her back pack. It’s forest green. It looks so heavy that it might send her flying backwards if she wasn’t holding on to something.

I should write more often, enough said.

Chapter 10 of Fizzy Lemonade is ready to read too. :)

P.S. I made orange flavoured sugar cookies and I grated the knuckle of my thumb whilst collecting orange zest only to find out my roommate was allergic to oranges.

It’s Official: Me and Mormonism Part 5

Yes finally, you wouldn’t believe the sudden curiosity and trepidation I felt when I saw yet again another envelope from The Church of Jesus Christ of Later Day Saints sitting quietly on the kitchen table (can stuff sit quietly?). Let’s just say. It is finally official. I am no longer a member of the Mormon faith. A burden has been lifted. Not only that but I have physical proof!

Here is what it says:

September 21 2010

Dear Sister McKenna

This letter is to notify you that in accordance with your request your name has been removed from the membership records of The Church of Jesus Christ of Later Day Saints.

Should you desire to become a member of the Church in the future, the local bishop or branch president in your area will be happy to help you.

Sincerely,

Gregory W. Doge

Manager, Member and Statistical Records

I feel like I should frame it or something. I am just thankful my name removal wasn’t as involved as some ex-Mormons stories I have read about. Alas, a new chapter in my spiritual life. I can start over and follow God how I was meant too. Now if I could figure out how I am suppose to do that, followed by somehow breaking this news nicely to my family members who are LDS and may be non too please to hear this. Besides faith isn’t something set in stone, its something that can change from time to time as you begin to understand what it means exactly. I don’t think there is a definitive answer as I have learnt through from past.

P.S. In other news, I think I like someone again…I’ll just leave it at that.

Identity

I wish I could say I haven’t had time to write because I’ve been so busy, but the truth is I do have time, but ever since the nonsense that has happened in my blog the past few months. As you can tell I went back on my decision to make my blog private.

I just can’t seem to write in it anymore. It was so much easier when my thoughts weren’t under attack. I’ve had stuff worth sharing, but it just seems no name is safe, no event how amazingly awesome is ok to transpose, no thoughts of any kind are allowed because it might piss one person off I know in minute amount of people out of the gazillions in this world. I wish I could say that I have learnt from my transgressions. It appears no conversation is safe or maybe the problem is there is no one safe enough to discuss anything with. I can write and say how sorry I am a thousand times and I still don’t feel right about it. Why should I be sorry for feelings? I am allowed to have feelings towards people whether they are positive or slightly skewed or not, if they don’t conform to others, it is their problem. And if I am wrong in my assumptions I will say so.

So maybe I will write about one thing that is bothering me….

Baptism. I’ve been asking the pastor at my church since June 2009 and in January of this year to be baptised and I feel like get nowhere. He keeps saying I have to read this or tells me I tell him I’ m not ready or I should do that, but other people come forward and announce they want too and lickity split there being dunked in water, something beautiful, something paramount to announcing their Christian faith. It’s the beginning of a new life. Rah! However, I am happy for them but I neglected to attended, but not for these reasons. I just know this journey may never happen for me.

Is it because I had an entire crush on the pastor? (Because that is indeed who Pretty Blue Eyes is and it was an entire waste of my time. AN ENTIRE WASTE!) Am I too open minded? Is it because I once belonged to the Mormon faith? It’s not like I didn’t have my name removed or denounced it a billion times. Is it because I don’t fit in with the crowd at the church?

Well now I don’t want too get baptised anymore and I am not even sure I want to be Christian. The more I try the more depressed I feel. I feel no connection to these people, cut off. I guess I don’t wear the right clothes. (The red sweater is a faux pas? )When I lived with my mom that meant no identity? I can’t even write on this blog without any back lash. This is not to say some haven’t been positive influences and kind to me and I appreciate it. I just know its not who I am. I’m still figuring this out!

Perhaps I should erase a few paragraphs of my spiritual journey and start over again! If my friends or my mom want to blame the devil for this decision then they are more then welcome. I am sure he (if he is indeed real) is used to being used as a scapegoat by now. I just hope I am strong enough to handle the onslaught of religious guilt that will be thrown at me.

And those who do not like my blog or what I write can choose not to read it. If they have a problem they can come talk to me instead of telling others behind my back. It’s as simple as that.

P.S. I am not an atheist!

Melissa Computer?

I want to write something positive for once!

After a whirlwind trip to Vancouver, where my little brother was subjected to 3 doctors appointments in 1 day in a span of just hours, evil taxi drivers, my computer becoming a babysitter/ calmness enabler (more on that later) and I surviving the antics of Hev-Lady; It appears Tony (my brother)most likely won’t need surgery due to his scoliosis as the doctor believes he has stopped growing and therefore if no more growing takes place he’d be able to function with the spine he has (which is just as twisty and scary as my mind.:P )This is something I am thankful for because it apparently is a very painful procedure and my brother has a enough issues without having to recover from major surgery. Phew!

As for my computer, the battery was practically drained both trips on the plane…

Was subjected to certain spills

Was used to keep my brother occupied

A reason for a 6:30 am wake up call…

My brother is obsessed with my computer.

Me: (Arriving at car which will take us to the Vancouver trip of all tiredness.) Hi Tony!

Tony: AHAAHDFHSDFHLSDKFHKJDSHFJKSHD! MELISSA!

Chauffer person (Mom had someone help us get to and fromJ): (Wincing) Oh oh ummm….Tony?

Mom: (she is used to this therefore it is of no consequence Tony:) Yes Tony it’s your sister

Me: Yay its Tony!

Tony: MELISSA! MELISSA COMPUTER! MELISSA DOLLIES! Melissa Computer?

Me: Maybe later.

Tony: Whoooo oooohhhh

Later On:

Me: So Tony who would you like to sit with on the plane? Mom or Me?

Ummmm Melissa computer?

Me: You want to sit with my computer?

Tony: Yah!

Mom: (Laughs)

Even later on after we went through security and Tony checked to make sure my computer was alright.

Tony: (Super stoked about going on the plane, makes a mad dash for the metal bird and as he ascends the stairs he asks the flight attendant…) Melissa computer allowed? Play Melissa computer?

Flight attendant (Her name is Melanie by the way and like most people has no clue what Tony is on about.)

Me: He wants to know if my computer is allowed on and if he can play my computer on the plane?

Melanie: Yes just as soon we are in the air and the Captain has taken off the fasten seatbelt sign.

Tony: Whoooooo MELISSA COMPUTER!

Melanie: (directs us to our seats, I sit by Tony. I have the computer after all.)

Tony: (Every 2 seconds) Melissa computer?

Me: Yes just as soon as the seatbelt light is off (I point the seatbelt sign to him)

Meanwhile the airplane rises into the air of altitudes of 23,000 ft. I know I shouldn’t be scared of flying after going overseas and all but….ummm yes

Tony: (Watching plane lift off with mad interest)

10 seconds later…Light blinks out.

Tony: Melissa Computer?

Me: Yes Tony.

This happened pretty much the exact same way on the flight home, except the flight attendant on the way home was named Meadow and she was a blonde not a brunette. Anyways thanks to Tony, when I got home I swear I had Spiderman and/or Harry Potter engraved in my eyeballs.

P.S. My brother is my hero!

The Scope of it.

Me: Hello? (now what does she want?)
Mom: (frantically) I think you took the wrong scope.
Me: What the?
Mom: You took the wrong scope?
Me: I have no idea what you’re talking about?
Mom: You know the mouthwash.
Me: You mean the Listerine? (oh right I did take her full bottle of mouthwash by accident….yes that it an accident, she was using mine anyway.)
Mom: I had a full bottle and you had less then half of the Scope left.
Me: You mean the Listerine?
Mom: Whatever!
Me: I guess I did?
Mom: Yeah well anyways…what you doing?
Me: It’s Listerine not Scope!
Mom: Scope, mouthwash, Listerine, whatever! I’m not in the mood to be corrected. Melissa. It doesn’t matter what it’s called you knew what I was talking about.
Me: Actually I didn’t (although I did have an idea after about the second time she told me.)
Mom: Oh? Something, something, something…
Me: I am on my way to work.
Mom: I thought so…
Me: I have to go. I’m almost there!
Mom: OK. I just wanted to let you know about the mouthwash.
Me: OK….bye!

The issue of the mouthwash hasn’t been properly resolved yet. I guess she wants me to buy her a new bottle? Great something else I owe her.

I have some pretty long conversations with my mom. She never calls about anything specifically she just wants to talk. You know that point in the conversation where you’re not really even listening to the person anymore and you start to phase out and maybe plan how to exit the conversation politely? I do that a lot, but it doesn’t make it any less awkward. It’s not like I can just hang up on her. I’ve purposely antagonized her just so she will hang up, which is also morally corrupt. I mean I can but it is my mother after all. It’s kind of like “yep, yes, uh huh, oh sorry I have to ummm get ready to go now, I have to go to umm work or I just woke up I’m not ready for conversation yet,” especially when Hev-Lady wants to talk about her every day activities. For instance gardening, the dogs, and her personal issues; I really feel like a councilor some days, perhaps I should start charging her. She certainly spends enough sending me 4+ texts a day and a voicemail.

Since yesterday I have been struggling with the stories I am working on. I can’t seem to get a plot together for Fizzy Lemonade. It’s coming together. But I think I am slightly obsessed to the point I sit there with my notebook at the kitchen table and write out a bunch of nonsensical scribbling about how I can work it out. I have no one to bounce story ideas off of anymore it seems. I get the “this actually goes on in your head look?” I had one friend say I have a very twisty mind and she’d love to see inside it. I wouldn’t recommend it unless she wants to meander around in a sometimes dark, scatterbrained, random place. They’d either come out highly amused or scarred for life.

P.S. Today has been one of those lazy days…

My final Public Post: Me and Mormonism Part 4

Yesterday was a big day. I got so caught up over opinions regarding my blog that I forgot to mention something I find truly freeing.

I had just arrived home and I saw a pile of envelopes on the table underneath my roommates mail was….

A letter from The Church of Jesus Christ of Later Day Saints saying they acknowledge my letter, but it has to be sent to the Branch President in Terrace to hand it as it’s an ecclesiastical matter as well as a very pretty brochure encouraging me to come back and they are so very sorry if they offended me, etc.

Here is it as follows: (I know my friend whom in my elation was the first one to read said I should scan it and post it but I cannot wait to share :P I promise I shall post it and the brochure next time once I find a scanner.)

“Dear Sister McKenna:

I have been asked to acknowledge your recent letter in which you request at your name be removed from the records of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.

I have also been asked to inform you that the Church considers such a request an ecclesiastical matter that must be handled by local priesthood leaders before being processed by Church employees. Therefore, your letter and a copy of this reply are being sent to President of the Canada Vancouver Mission. He will have President Ivan D. Bohle of the Terrace Branch contact you concerning the fulfillment of your request.

In view of the eternal consequences of such an action, the Brethren urge you to reconsider your request and to prayerfully consider the enclosed statement of the First Presidency.

Sincerely,

Gregory W. Dodge

Manager, Member and Statistical Records.”

So very soon I could be getting a phone call, maybe even some missionaries, home teachers or the bishop paying me a visit because they are so very concerned about me leaving the church, never mind the fact I asked them not bother me. Figures.

The thing is I don’t consider myself a Latter Day Saint. I follow a different Jesus then they do. Their prior President Gordon B. Hinckley even admitted they follow a different Jesus then orthodox Christians. I don’t think Mormons are bad people they are just misguided and on a different path then the one I want to be on. It’s personal it’s not an attack against them or anything. I know they want to stop me out of love, but if they love me they will let me go.

I know this sounds weird but I think I was being set up for this time as I had to deal with a couple of Jehovah’s Witnesses earlier that day. I failed miserably I couldn’t even at least witness to them that I was comfortable with my faith. I couldn’t even say thank you for your interest but I am Christian. Can I say that to a Mormon missionary or whomever accosts me at home or over the telephone? They consider themselves Christians too, despite that most religious scholars say otherwise and have considerable evidence to prove their standpoint.

Also what is going to happen when Sue-Woman and Jim- Lady Man find out? Will they disown me? My aunt and uncle might be a bit PO’d as well. You know what though; it’s not for them to decide is it?

In regards to the disaster this blog has created. I edited all the posts in which I feel made any reference to anyone I know that was inappropriate. I am not going to write about anyone I know anymore. In fact as I know there are a lot of online readers I haven’t met. I am considering making this blog private again to ensure this nonsense and hurt can’t happen anymore. Therefore, if this happens you may need to request an invitation to read. Sorry this has to happen but I’m sick of the BS and grief it has caused me. I can’t be putting anymore people into therapy over what I write. I am truly sorry I hurt anyone and I know that I am not the only one hurting. The whole world is!

Melissa :)

P.S. Pretty Blue Eyes is officially no more! I’d rather have a Hawk Eyed Pearce or a Captain Kirk instead. Hmmmph!

All will be revealed

I found an interesting comment on my blog concerning my apology to an anonymous person (who wasn’t quite anonymous due to my curse of descriptiveness). So with out further adieu…

Here is the comment as follows…

Forgive me for I am not a writer and am not excellent at expressing myself. But this is no matter, I still have something to say.

What an awful apology. I know of all these people that you write about (as well as being one of them) and know that you would not be able to handle any of the awful words that you have said about them like they have since you started your blog.

I learnt a long time ago from the movie Bambi something very valuable; Thumper admits to his mother that you shouldn't say anything if you don't have anything nice to say. Also the bible tells us that we should do unto others as we would have done to us. Melissa I beg of you to delete the entirety of this blog so that the hurt, gossip, and need for constant apologies can stop.

An apology is so much more than just saying sorry - it means that the apologizer will also stop doing whatever it was that needed to be apologized for in the first place. But even after apologizing the hurtful words about others still contiues.

This whole situation has dampened my spirits for sometime now. All of the people that you have spoken about with hate have all worked hard to be a positive influences in your life and as this blog proves you have turned a blind eye to their kindness. Stop looking for annoyances, but instead look for the positive blessings that God gives you each day. I hope that you will soon be able to understand the hurt that you are causing. You are not the only one who is hurting and this venue for healing your pains is not the right one. Please know this and take it to heart.

And now it is my turn to reply:

Firstly, I will have you know Mr (and or) Ms. Anonymous Commenter who doesn’t even have the decency to reveal themselves to me in real life or on the comment itself, (unlike the friend who finally brought my misguided words it to my attention.) I started this blog way before I met anyone whom you say I am talking about. I started this blog October 2005 as a chronicle of my journey to Australia. It has since transcended my Australian adventures and is now a day to day account of my random musings.  I did not even know you then. You made it sound like I started this blog a few months ago, try a few years ago. When I started this blog, I never set out to hurt anyone or dampen anyone’s spirits. I set out to write, enough said. No malicious intent intended.

Yes the words were harmful I acknowledged that. I apologised to the persons involved She didn’t accept which was her right. I even apologised to God. I have written some pretty mean things about others too in the past. I apologised, should have learnt the first time but I did not. I am human sometimes people make mistakes and yes they should be lessons, but sometimes it’s easy to ignore, because its easier to forget the pain the mistakes have cost. Especially someone like me who likes to be honest and write what I want with out thinking.

You whole comment is blatantly contradicting throughout. Apparently this whole blog debacle was talked about behind my back. If you may remember I put a clear warning I was about to write stuff which people may find offensive….

“Warning: this entry will most likely incriminate myself!” – June 12 2010

I even wrote a further explanation about the entry the next day….

I knew what I was doing was wrong. I wasn’t doing it for vindication….its my blog I was frustrated over something irrational. I like to write what I think, what I feel, I have no sensors and the editing when I write (and when I talk) so it all comes out like vomit. I can’t stop it, it just comes out and this blog just happens to be my toilet bowl.

I also deleted the entry as a way to show I am sorry, but sadly the damage is done, it cannot be fixed completely, but at least I tried on my own terms. I am sorry but this is my blog and I am the one who decides if it will be deleted. I don’t think I have been hateful in anyway, just truthful.

You’re right you’re not a writer, but I am. I write because to me everything in life that I experience, every essence begs me to record it and to express it somehow or I seriously explode from madness. I have to write or I will wither inside. But, for someone who claims not to be good at expressing themselves you did a pretty good job of it.

You know what I will never write about them again because of the hurt I have caused them whether they even read it or not. And if you had enough balls like my friend who brought this to my attention you’d ask me who I was writing about her in the first place. Or like some who apparently were talking about this whole conundrum behind my back. If you think I was writing about you in any other entries, you are more then welcome to ask me to my face not hide behind the computer screen like a coward.

Thank you very much for your opinions. I have considered them as you can tell. I will leave it at that before I continue to rant. Also my friend Jo left you a lovely response to this on the entry perhaps you may like to read that as well.

P.S. I am apparently sound like a tattle tale! Dude something about this is so elementary school.

The Ultimate Designer!

God to me is the ultimate designer, a writer an artist, a scientist, an enigma.

He is the author of creation.

His words are more powerful then man, transcending generations.

Love everlasting beyond all comprehension

The holder of salvation

Like any great artist or novelist the world to Him was once like a blank piece of paper

Darkness waiting for light

Waiting for His words, His art, His wisdom

And with these talents He brought life.

All creation hand crafted

Our very image is reflected in Him.

An author knows all about their characters and who they are meant to be.

God knows everyone and who they will become!

Everywhere at once and with everyone at all times.

Intimately involved in there lives whether they admit it or not.

Those who know him long to know Him more,

The celebrate the truth of there being

A life with meaning, with out darkness

Whilst other refuse to acknowledge Him,

Hidden in the dark, never seeing the beauty of light

Refusing to see his signature inscribed on us, in the world we live.

Yet, nothing happens by chance,

Only fools say in there words and in there hearts God does not exist.

But,

God is the author of creation and salvation.

Our existence is absurd with out Him

P.S. It’s a poem I wrote for church service this Sunday, but the Pit-bull made me work. :( So I missed the reading of it.

A typical Tuesday?

OWE MY ENTIRE LEGS! They feel like lead weights. I’m surprised can even stand upright…Perhaps I should explain…

It all started like a typical Tuesday morning. You know the old routine, dragging my tired ass out of bed, having my daily coffee, which I have to have or as my roomie puts it I’ll ‘have one mother of a headache’ (stupid caffeine addiction!) Then I make my lunch, get dressed etc…the usual mundane things.

That day I was very anxious because I had to let some new cashiers shadow me, I am so anal retentive about my till that it was painful to let someone else do it, who clearly had no idea what they were doing. Also as it was my sign in number any mistake they make I’ll get the love letters (till audits) for. I made them bag mostly. I probably drove the newbie’s crazy.

For instance, I have to have my bills all facing the same way and my credit card receipts in a certain place in a neat little pile and I bagging merchandise for customers is a whole other story.… Do not put cleaner with food and keep the cold stuff together, THE END! I was so observant of everything, every mistake was magnified. One girl kept forgetting to scan stuff and when I told her she argued with me. I of course proved I was right. One girl that shadowed me was so scared she was shaking. I suggested she try the PA for a price check, so she could learn how it was done and she looked liked she was going to be sick. It didn’t help this cashier trainee also had really bad breath and/or body odour. It was torture. I am surprised I remained so patient on this typical Tuesday.

Then as I ended my shift….The Pit bull (Front End Manager) pulled me aside and told me I was going to be CSM (Customer Service Manager) yay! So my day ended really for once! Basically I was entirely promoted!

Since then I have been running around like a chicken with my head cut off. Everyone wants you at once and you are always moving, and then add my new endeavours of walking to work so I can get in shape. I could barely walk home. Strangely enough I like it!

P.S. I have a new place a new position at work, now all I need is a drivers licence a car and a boyfriend.

An entire apology for nothing!

In the words of Sarah Evans “Oh my goodness!”

I swear to God I keep contradicting myself because someone doesn’t like what I do, makes me feel bad and therefore I go against myself and apologise for being honest (about a anonymous person by the way.)

I deleted the “Poisonous Secret” entry because it turns out…

Anonymous girl whom I wrote rather nasty things about hadn’t even read it. So to save future damage to this girls feelings whom I realise isn’t a bad person intelligence or not.

Pretty Blue Eyes caught me in my attempt to be brave and say I am sorry. So I was upfront and honest and told him what had happened and said I had to apologise to her. He said something quite the opposite.

Pretty Blue Eyes: Why the furrowed brow?

Me: Oh no reason. I just wrote some nasty comments about such and such on my blog! I am way to honest when I write sometimes and it backfires.

Pretty Blue Eyes: Oh really? (Something along those lines)

Me: Now I think I have to apologise and its way harder then it sounds.

Pretty Blue Eyes: No doubt about it…

Me: I feel really bad…such and such told me and it made me cry so I knew it was wrong… (I was careful not to mention it was about him and her, although I had the sneaky suspicion he does know on some level due to his acute intelligence in certain matters.)

Pretty Blue Eyes: Have you deleted it?

Me: No! I figured the damage has already been done!

Pretty Blue Eyes: (Laughs that weird silent laugh when he is highly amused with something I have said) Maybe you should delete it so no more damage can be done.

Me: I guess

Pretty Blue Eyes: Maybe don’t even tell her about your blog, because you could be causing unnecessary hurt.

Me: But such and such implied she had read it! (Turns out it was just my overactive imagination telling me she had!)

Pretty Blue Eyes: Well I guess you have to do what you have to do.

Put it this way, apology wasn’t accepted. I went to apologise and it was hell of an awkward situation because she didn’t even know what I was talking about just like Pretty Blue Eyes suggested.

Me: Hi I don’t know if you’ve read my blog, but I felt it was important to apologise to you about what I had written about you, which was rather hurtful.

Girl: (Awkwardly) Ah OK? I’ve never read it!

Me: (awkward moment arrives, my friend Chris would say this is the moment a gay baby is born…) Well I thought I would say sorry anyways just in case. I deleted it so no further damage can be done.

Girl: Well what did you write?

Me: (Oh fucking hell! You that you were a twat, blabedy blah nothing too horrible) Uh well I was having these nightmares where I was very mean to you and I wrote about it.

Girl: Well what is it about? (She asked me several times actually)

Me: It wasn’t very nice at all! I deleted to save you from further hurt or embarrassment.

Girl: So you’re not even comfortable to tell me? (She said that a lot too!)

Me: Nooooo…(Not a Philis Philmore type of no by the way.) (Oh my God this is painfully awkward!) You really don’t want to know.

Girl: I am going to wonder now? Why won’t you tell me?

Me: It was all about irrational jealousy…

Girl: (obviously even more confused) about what?

Me: Oh you know random stuff! (I should have just said it was about my presumptions about her and Pretty Blue Eyes.)

Girl: Well I wish I could say apology accepted but I don’t even know what you are talking about and you won’t tell me…

Me: Ask such and such…I can send it too you if you really want to read it! I mean I didn’t even use your name.

Girl: So why are you apologising?

Me: Oh this is so painfully awkward…because I wrote about you!

So it kind of ended there…after agonising minute after minute of perpetual confusion and gay babies being born….(50 or more had to have been brought into this world.) she was really nice about it and everything. And I don’t feel mean jealous feelings anymore. At least now I can say I am not two-faced. I also I learnt I wish I kept my feelings between Pretty Blue Eyes and I. Kept it private where it belonged now its just a big mess. I wish I hadn’t listened to my friend about this either, even though she meant well. At least I’ve attempted to make it right with the universe and God!

Pretty Blue Eyes summed it up when he said “It wasn’t like you are the best of friends anyways so at least you can get over it.” He also said I had balls for being forward and apologising as well as having an ego boost because he was all knowing and right about this in the first place. Why didn’t I just tell him what happened a week ago! His advice usually pans out even if I feel like a twat in the process.

Ah matters of the heart will they ever end?

P.S. I’m making banana blueberry muffins woot!