Problems and Solutions

What's up with me?

I've been avoiding my bed and sleeping on the couch.

I think it's because the couch is more comfortable than the bed.

The bed has a dip in it.  A purple dip.

It's strange, when I come to write, I feel like all I have to do is complain.

Complain about the purple dip, the fact that I'm missing a meeting I was invited to tonight.  Missed out on all day.  That I can get up and eat breakfast and then against all my wishes go back to sleep, missing out on the whole day.  My real family who cares not a whit about me.

My trouble-making dog/baby.  That I have to collect the trash and empty the recycle bin.

But mostly that I didn't get up and I can't sleep in my bed and I can't decide whether to stay up or go to sleep.  And that I missed the home church meeting.

*********************************************************************************
After dealings with the Lord
*********************************************************************************

But I can take all these problems and make them into blessings.  The Lord Jesus is on the throne and if I just take Him as my life and everything, and ignore my bad feelings, God has a way.

I was reading about Tyre and Sidon in Ezekial, and God really hated them.  He hated Egypt, as well.  Since Tyre was so boastful and interested in making itself beautiful and great that he considered them as Satan and vowed to destroy them. 

I know often I can, in my distraction, try to make my house as beautiful as possible.  As functional and happy as possible, but I think God doesn't want to make my house beautiful and great.  He just wants me to have a house that has Godmen in it.  A God house, not a good house.  

Apology

Ok, everyone.

Here's the thing.  I have offended some people with my darker posts.  I want to apologize/not apologize.

I want to apologize for not seeing things your way.  The feeling of the other people around you and who listen to you is important, not to mention necessary.  I care about you and I don't want to hurt you or your feelings.

That said, I am getting to the point in my life where I don't care about embarrassing things, and I'm not going to keep them a secret and poison myself with them anymore.  I feel like getting them out on the page, to people who can pray for me is better than bottling them up and hating myself and others.  When I'm writing negative things about someone it's because I can't reach them any other way.  I've talked to them one on one, and another person has come with me to talk to them, and they still haven't listened to any correction, so I give it up to you.  In this way, I'm not apologizing.

I'm not trying to say I should correct my elders.  I still respect that.  I'm trying to say that there's a verse in the Bible that says you shouldn't vex your children.  Let's just say I'm very vexed.  Whatever that means.

That said, I will try not to write anymore negative things.  That's not fair to you.  If I feel bad, I'll get a therapist.  Thank you for bearing with me in the meantime.  I appreciate you reading this blog and I appreciate your support.

Some Quiet Thoughts

Ate nutmeg in my oatmeal this morning.  It's akin to pepper with the sneezes.  Where does nutmeg come from, anyway?  Nutmegs?

Dealing with perfectionism and low self confidence today.

Hiding in the Lord Jesus.  The Holy Word for Morning Revival is talking about Christ being a morning star amidst the darkness.  A star is small light in the sky.  We have to be looking and seeking for that morning star to see it.  Which ties into Life and Building in the Song of Songs, which I've been reading.  The book is talking about seeking our Savior and Lover who is away from us.  We have such enjoyment of Him and then He is different from us, away from us, and we need to keep seeking Him.

Hopefully going to Half Price Books, today.

Getting groceries that I ordered to be delivered to our house.  Kind of my passive aggressive take on getting groceries because my mom never gets things on the lists I give her.  I want to eat healthy!  And recipes!  This will be a day of reckoning.

I also want to go to Babies R' Us, Target (to get basic household items), and the Corner bakery, to see the lay of the land, if and how they are hiring. I already know they are hiring from online, but it might be helpful to check out the locations in person.

Other than that....Christ be with all the saints!

And you are alone

You know how life is terrifying?

I've been feeling this way this December.  Wake me up when December ends.

TERRIFYING.

And NO ONE is your friend.  Not God, nobody.

And you can't even count.  or use your spacial awareness to make a decent cross stitch to save your life.

And you have to wait for things to be ready.

And for things to be accomplished.

And you need sleep but you are wide awake and want to stay up to call the help center to fix your printer.

And you are on your way down the road to retarddom.  All in the name of a fancy organizational system, a way of doing things.

And you are hanging on your last shred of hope to your lifeline.

And you're about to do something you regret, but it will be warm in your tummy.

And your dog has the most expressive eye rolls and facial expressions.

Well, that's not terrifying,that's downright cute.  But it's terrifying how she looks at you like you are an alien from another planet.

And you are alone.

A statement that encompasses all of the previous statements.

Ridiculous, Retarded, Embarrassing Mush

Hey everyone.  I know you all were waiting with hungry eyes and bated breath (whatever that means, I'm usually against any kind of breath, except freshly brushed) for the next installment of Megan's life.  No really, I know.  You have me subscribed to on your readers and like to share interesting tidbits of my life on your secret twitter accounts.  I'm joking.  No one reads this.

Honestly, I have been sleeping.  ALOT.  I made two words into one word to express how much of a thing it is.  I was trying to be a normal person with normal hours, when one day I just gave up.  It was a gradual descent into madness, shaving off of edges.  And then came the drop.

The positive thing, the only positive thing is that I keep having these awesome/outrageous dreams.    An amusement park for autistic kids, where there were a whole slew of awesome rides for them, like a tunnel of keys that they can touch and feel and sense things, and a station where they get custom made animal pajamas/costume just for them.

However, I had just failed at two very different interviews, Starbucks, where I was supposed to be some innocent and ended up a being a retard at whom old dogs in cages outside bark and a photo studio where I was supposed to be/do something I just don't get yet.

The holidays were coming.  I am avoiding the one friend I have because I have this weird church-world double standard for myself and everyone else that causes frustration and stumbles me daily.
This double standards means I'm on the fence ALOT.  The point is, is that I think my friend is a bad influence, because once she yelled at me and is very brusque.  All this hedging is really to hide the real reason I can't be her friend or anyone's friend:  I've lost my ability to relate to and communicate with people.  Add that to I have this dream of being a regular church goer (and I'm pretty sure she's not into that) and things get B-A-N-A-N-A-S.  So it's not my friend, it's me.

 Most people don't even think about their ability to relate to and communicate people.  I am dead certain that I can't communicate with anyone to save my life. I know this is stupid, but my life was supposed to start after I graduated college and went to this Bible school and married my grade school sweet heart.  That dream was thwarted and my life turned into my family's fantasy of me becoming my crazy aunt Peggy, who lived at home with my grandmother until she died.  They watched TV.  Every day. (I had a brief visit with them.)  Martha Stewart and Dr. Phil.

When that Aunt Peggy bit is pulled on my by one of my family members, I feel as helpless as a baby in bathwater.  My limbs sag, my soul crunches and my bones embitter.  I can't fight it.  My hair is turning white.  I am 32 years old.  I am unmarried, childless, unsuccessful, and without hope or love.
I am sad.  sleeping all day to escape my life.  The horrible thing is this.  I keep saying I just want to get up in the morning.  I got up, ate some oatmeal.  The house is kept very cold.  My brain was only big enough to scream get back in that warm bed.  So I ran back to my room and tucked myself under my covers.  I felt all the side of people that were cheering me to get up and who wanted me to get up in the morning and I tried to get out from under the side of going back to sleep, but my head didn't exist.  My body could lie to me still and she wanted to lie on the bed under the covers and go back to sleep.  Aunt Peggy took a nap in her room every day in the afternoon and my grandmother is dead.  I see so many parallels.

There was a while that I thought I could escape this Family Curse.  I was focused on others, walked the dog every evening, and built up a sort of camaraderie with the neighbors.  I had problems, a lot of problems, but at least I was still loving people through all my fear and madness. My mom took me places, I loved her and the city streets.  Now, I don't love people.  I am alone.  I sleep. They are wearied of me.  They hate me.  

My family supports me on the one hand, but hates behind their own backs.  Since I hear everything from them, it is frustrating to understand how well developed their hate is and how full of pitfalls.  They don't know me anymore.  My only family is my dog, whom I know hates to be kissed on the face, but I always do it.  One day it will no longer be cute, and fade into a stain of unconscious hate.  My joy is to annoy, but what anger builds from such destroy.

I can't communicate, I can't organize, I can't rally against such an ephemeral foe as "I don't have a head."  I don't know how to live a secret life, obeying a secret code.  No one observes my life, but I don't have any privacy.

Maybe by writing to you, to tell you this I may make things worse.  I don't know.  Maybe I should just list some things for which I am grateful.  I am grateful that I didn't drink that third cup of coffee

It's a bet I made with one of my friends that he would quit drinking and I would quit coffee.  I had already made a bet with another one of my friends that I would quit coffee and he would quit weed, but I with my descent came the sweet taste of freedom that only the guilt of hurting myself could churn out.  I didn't win either bet.  I keep trying to stop, but I am addicted, not to the notoriously creamy and sweet coffee, but to the bitter dregs of giving something special to myself.  It may be hell, but it's a hell of which I'm in control.

I don't know what to do about me sleeping ALOT, I was really discouraged because a sister(woman of the church) said she would call me to wake me up.  She called me intermittently, for a week.  I mean is it too hard to expect a phone call every single day?  This is why I think the saints(church people) are shoddy.  They don't keep their word.  This one was my mom's friend in church before she was married and sounds strangely like my Aunt Peggy.  She is living in San Antonio.

I've stopped forgiving people who don't repent.  It's a waste of time and it hurts you more than it hurts them.  Maybe I'm stuck in the old testament. I'm not sure.  All I know is that when you forgive people who don't repent, they go back and hurt you again.  If they repent, then do it again then repent and do it again and then repent and do it again, I would forgive them each time.  But the Bible doesn't specify that we need to forgive people who don't repent.  It helps if you read it.  So I know she probably has a plan to teach me to use my spirit, which she doesn't know that I am adamantly against. When people are real and reliable and love God, all the soulish tricks of communication can't stand against them.  So I'm saying she could have loved me more by just being there.  Every morning.  Even if it didn't work out, instead of being super spiritual.  Maybe I'm too old to be loved this way.  I don't blame her though.  I didn't make it to any meetings this semester except one Bible study that I  was practically forced into and I don't visit my neighbors and I don't go to school.  I wasn't there for anyone, real, and reliably and loving God and now they don't love me.

I didn't stop drinking coffee.  I wasn't there for them.  Maybe I should get rid of the coffee maker.  I swear, I'm just addicted to the ambiance.  The romantic notion that I'm a better person and a better writer when I drink it.  I'm addicted to the ambiance of coffee and not to helping my friends.

You are my friends, too remember, please encourage me.  Remember, I'm writing to you.  Don't forget that.  If there's anything you want to say to me, say it.  Don't be afraid of the comments, they are your friends.  I'm very grateful for comments.

As for my writing, I don't have a head, but I think this non-being is good for my writing.  I'm more open to possibilities beyond my usual train of thought and my ever glowing spinal cord is an anchor to keep me from floating off after silly ideas, like  "I wish my family read this blog."

Family is always complicated.  I hate them, I love them, I want them to stop using me, I want them to succeed.  Respecting them helps a lot.  Giving them their space.  That works for all people.  There's more than one way to skin that cat.  Ew.  Gruesome saying.

And every time I feel old, I've been thinking.  There's a poem, "When I am Old," by Jenny Joseph which goes "When I am an old woman I shall wear purple/With a red hat that doesn't go, and doesn't suit me,"  And I feel like if for me the process of being old is sped up, then all the more reason to be be ridiculous.  And I get my little laugh.  Kind of dumb when people are building skyscrapers and having "tons" of sex, but I'm just a little, old woman with a laugh.  

The more I compare myself to the hopeful past and look at a bleak, uncompromising future, the more discouraged I become.  I suppose it would help to be in the moment, but the moment is usually me hibernating or hating life because I can't seem to make any appointments except my doctors'.  (and the two interviews).  But taking a step back and reexamining the past, shows me that I have come from some dark places, and here and now is a better place than I could be, on either side of the fence.

It would be "OK" to be an embarrassing mush of embarrassing emotional experiences that seem to spill like diarrhea out of my mouth at interviewers, if I didn't see how condescending and disgusted they were with me.  If I had never known that I could control my mouth and my emotions, it wouldn't be so disappointing when I can't.  I seem to have gained and then lost the ability.  The ability crops up on a occasion, but is seemingly overshadowed by all the stupid things I have to say.

There's no real reason to avoid my friend, except how embarrassed I am at not being normal in my sleep.  Two or three times, I cancelled things with my friend because I was asleep.  I'm embarrassed to make more plans because I sleep so much.  She wants me to get a job at Dominos with her and I convinced myself to fill out the application, but calling in to talk to them would be the worst.  I can just hear everything in their voice and the ridiculous, embarrassing, retarded mush spilling out of mine.

I'd rather be dreamless and have a life. I would give up dreaming for life to have a husband, two kids, a house, a regular church life.  Which is frustrating because I need a job.  I'm not going to have our kids go without things because I can't get a job.  Maybe Arlington's just a shitty place to live and doesn't have very many jobs available.  (Forgive the bad word, I'm getting to the wonder wall of interesting words.)

This means that I've failed (sleeping too much) and people have failed me (saints being two faced).  Who do you turn to when people and yourself has failed?  God?  I was reading the Bible regularly, reading the ministry (Bible books) and still chugging coffee like there was no tomorrow and sleeping irregular hours.  God helps those who help themselves.

You people think of a way out of my situation, you comment, ok?  Don't be like me, holding all my goodness towards myself.  Pay it back.  Unless there's absolutely nothing you could say to me.  I know I don't exist, but maybe you do.  Pull me like a tugboat!  I'm in the harbor, my engines are absolutely useless here.  Wait, I'm joking, nobody reads this.

Letting Go

I'm dropping out of school.

I was reading these short stories to critique before class and one got me really emotional and then I was reading the other one and I just started crying and couldn't stop for a while.  I think it may have been the pressures of making an appointment with a therapist and I did cancel that appointment, as well.  I felt no motivation to go on to finish my short story set and knew that I if I didn't have anything now, I wouldn't have anything later.

So I quit college. 
5 classes away from graduation.
Forever.

I've decided that I never want to go back.  I don't need to go back.  I'm perfectly fine the way I am. No classes I take will tweak me to any sort of awesomeness I haven't already attained to and though a Bachelor degree might look good on a resume, "some college" will just have to do. 

I feel horrible.  And I am very afraid of life without the crutch of Education, the welcoming embrace of a classroom, but I know that part of my life is over now and I can't change the choices I made or that actions I took. 

So I'm afraid and happy.  Letting go is a first step to holding on.   You can only hold so much in two hands.  Let go. 

Cloud Depression

A couple of days ago I talked about "Walking depression."  Well, here I'm going to talk about another type of depression that people have that is so dangerous and yet is often found in happy people. 

The kind of depression I'm talking about I call "cloud depression."  It's a type of depression that comes and goes like a cloud and it is not always visible.  It collects the depressed things that happen to us, the depression we feel and it can disappear in an instant, like a cloud.  The reason it is dangerous is because it can come on instantly and strongly, like a snowball that has been slowly rolling down a hill for years, invisibly collecting more and more snow until it hits the bottom and there is no more control of the depression. 

The problem with it is that it can be so well controlled by the owner of the cloud, that it can disappear without a trace, but will be revisited in private moments and thus is a problem because the façade of happiness is there, without the reality of satisfying moments, thus causing a flaky, shallow mirror of joy without becoming ever truly happy. 

Maybe this is everyone.  I don't know.  But it happens to me.  Someone is stealing my joy and I seem happy.  My one hope is that maybe they will die?  I don't know. 

I don't have any coping mechanisms, except the ones exhibited my mom.  Sleep and TV.  Until you die.  I still have dreams.  They aren't as colorful as the ones when I was a kid.  But they are there. 

Cup of Coffee

I have coffee.  There's a rich, woody browness to it, the taste, the smell of wet grounds, warmed.  The atmosphere hit me  as I came into the house, not thinking of anything but the fuzz of the end of the day, and the love of a small hurt dog. 

She kept sniffing at nothing patches of grass, desperately, painfully.  To me, this little dog's sweet pain is rather like love, reminding me of myself when as a child, I would think eternal things and struggle to answer eternal questions like the one she struggles with.   The sniffing is to smell the answer and as a dog, this is the most likely source of reality. 

Darting one way on the short, dusky, black leash and then pulling me to the next patch of grass, quickly, never looking me in the eye, her nose swoops and dives.  There is an ugly undercurrent to this madness, but she doesn't let me see, the hurt only glinting from her eyes.  A little hurt dog is a little upset over me kicking her butt at loving people.  She is upset that things are not always the same.  She is upset that I knew something she didn't. 

All this I drop as a skin, as exhausted, we leave the fuzz of the outside for the fuzz of the house and smell the soft, creamy scent of coffee.  It sours in the mouth after a few minutes.  I know this is my fault.  My eternal questing pain.  My doggy life.  

The atmosphere sharpens for a second, then lies down dull, as if the boring had defeated the sharp sudden pain of life.  Neither atmosphere is to my liking, I prefer slaved-over grit to outbursts of pain or a calm that can't quit. 

So to quell the sour taste, I take another (now lukewarm) gulp, but it's too late, everything is words, words, words on a page, spirited away by man's first time machine, the written word. I want to retract into my shell and hide from the world, but it's too late, I'm a slug, shell-less and addicted to writing. 

The third to last gulp tastes like sand.  I'll shove this grit you like so much into you, says life.  Gritty, sandy, the physical sensation is nothing like the spiritual happiness I had attained coming into the house. 

The second to last gulp, came wrapped in Easter tin foil.  A surprise within a surprise the wooden molecules of the particle board desk, itself.  But the aftertaste is ancient and profound 

The last sip stains my consciousness like a tattoo.  Milky and gritty in one bundle, I dread the last gulp.   I dread the end of things, and the coffee seems to stick into my gullet like a powder.  I know I'm going to get another cup. 

More exercises in positivity

 Willing into being:

The meeting with my classmates will go well. 

What I just ate will digest well, even though I practically scarfed it down. 

I don't hairpin turn. 

I have a family who loves me and will do whatever it takes to support the family.

I don't weird out and get self conscious in food lines.   
 


Genuine Positivity:

I'm full of yummy food. 

I probably passed my Spanish test, which was pretty simple if I didn't make any silly mistakes. 

I'm about to get a chocolate chip frappe. 

An Exercise

I'm feeling great today. 

I don't have problems with my dad at all.  He's always very respectful and he doesn't take up too much time.  

I have plenty of people to talk to at lunch and everything and I'm not sitting on a bench alone typing my soul into a blog. 

I'm not sad or anything.  I'm not decreasing in the imaginary polls I create in my head. 

I'm not worried about the coming election, voting or non voting.  I'm sure whichever candidate will take care of the nation well.  They are fully qualified and honest, so I have faith in them.  I'm actually happy that I will be voting because of all the benefits that come with voting.  I know my vote counts.

My attitude is great and I'm pleasure to work with. 

Also, my butt doesn't hurt from sitting on this bench. I'm not tired, but refreshed

I didn't have a sup weird dream last night, right before I woke up.

I'm not sad or anything.  Not decreased or diminished.  He must increase and I must decrease is something Paul says in the New Testament.  A lot of negative things are put forth as positive by Paul.  Death, the Cross, decreasing, running.  lol. 

This was an exercise in positivity.  All of these were false positives.  Sometimes you have to speak it into being. Now for the genuine positivity. 

I really like UTA students.  I think they are really brave and powerful.  

I didn't forget anything I wanted to remember today, when I left for school. 

I didn't understand my Spanish workbook exercises at all at first, but now I'm getting some of the answers right!  Progress. 

I still have time to study for my test. 

People are pretty simple, after all. 

Someone, somewhere, loves me. 

My butt still hurts. 

More Exposure and "Walking Depression"

I'm depressed again, but this is the depression that leads into more depression later on.  The preliminary depression.  You kind of feel bad, but much worse is coming.  You are at the gym and know you should work out but only have 45 minutes left of the time before you get your ride.  You don't go exercise: instead you write this blog and play with Facebook. 

I've been feeling masterfully guilty today.  My profesora was sick and class was cancelled.  I'm not sure of the details, but she was sitting outside of the UC and drinking some water.  I think there is something wrong between me and her.  She's like a firecracker and I'm like a spud dud.   I'm trying to anticipate her and she's trying to anticipate the needs of all her students.  I feel like a big distraction, but I really just want to learn Mexican American History, grab the credit, not be forced into some giant people mill.  Which is what we all want. 

A lot of people from Six Flags passed out because of the heat.  I wonder, could it be the heat?  It was exceedingly sweaty today and I had to change my white shirt cause of visibility problems.  Maybe it's the last heat wave until the Autumn cool. 

I am pretty depressed, but it's what I call a "walking" depression.  And I want to talk about this.
I feel sad and down, but still functional.  Like I could run forever on this pain.  It's not debilitating depression, but definitely leads to it.  Leading to a deeper depression. 

That's why I think I may need more schooling after all.  I'm planning on finishing my University Studies degree, with two more classes in the spring.  I could go for another year and get my English degree. (I'm hoping I could   And I could get a Masters in Math or Communication or Psychology, anything to keep me from working for a couple more years.  (Or I could leave UTA...*dramatically* ...FOREVER....and try a different college.) 

I assume I am practically a demon in disguise, changing everything I touch.  Careless.   Angry.  Mean-spirited.  These are the things I think I am not ever, but I know that people think I am and that I express these things sometimes.  But you know, if you don't go, you won't get the help. 

I also feel like something could happen.  I could get into that "secret society" that I've mentioned before, which is probably all in my head, but is still there none-the-less.   I could talk to people.  I know that sounds dumb. But it does take all of my concentration to say something in class or to ask a classmate for a hairband.  And sometimes I don't do it.  Sometimes I do. 

I really hate kids, especially those of my relatives and people close to me.  They are always so innocently self-righteous and want me to play games with them.  I don't know any kid games.  And am really bad at making stuff up off the top of my head.  Then they start pulling rank on you.  Because you're not automatically defending yourself like their healthy immune systems are.  It hurts my feelings.  But kids are just kids. 

This depression is manifesting itself as pain in my shoulders and arms.  There is no real solution, except going back in time and exercising.  Unfortunately time travel isn't invented yet, at least not for matter.  Maybe I can exercise tonight. 

All I can do in my profesora's case is to follow my conscience which says, I should be open to distracting myself before class, instead of trying to read my profesora's mind.  That's all me, the little one in God, can do. 

Being reminded of Six Flags, I formulate a plan to work and go to school at the same time, but I know this is useless to consider.  There's only so many hours in a week.  I can only look back and reminisce, those were good times.  It was when I was coming out of my depression and felt that I really deserved to be happy. 

As for getting more hours at UTA, I'm clown fishing it.  Coming out, and then going back in. Coming out, and then going back in.  Lol.  I'm sticking with university studies, but will ask about the dual degree in the fried and diminishing English department. 

I am a lot of bad things, but I think that's the point. You are bad, so you go to school to get good at something.   Right?  But to me, college is super elitist.  Only the best go to become the best.  And I am old and boring.  And odd numbered.  My twenties were awful.  But this Is my thirties, something good could happen. I'm worried that my talking to people could have super abundant bad consequences because of being silent so long.  You don't share, you don't care.  Bad can work. This is an idea I hate to entertain because I believe that communication is the most essential attribute that connects us to God.  We need to talk to people. It's human (not animal) to communicate. 

Maybe that's what I need to do with kids.  Communicate.  I like having little games with them, as long as the results are not depressingly not in my favor.  I don't know why kids try to beat me so badly.  Maybe I seem weak and inferior.  But I'm hoping that I can have a better attitude towards them and something positive can come out of that.  I kind of think of them as little time machines, which is not particularly helpful.   To think of them as people is the hardest thing to do because you do that, then they change before your eyes and you never trust them again.   And then you or they have to become a villain.  I'm voting that the children of the corn/gremlins are, but that's just my self preservation instinct talking. 

All my situations have a solution.  They are all solvable problems which with discussion, help and time, can be resolved.  I need a therapist desperately.  But I don't want to get one, which reminds me.  Coming off of lithium is really, really hard.  It's like you are a sun burst and then you are dipped into a vat of depression.  I don't know how I'm going to get off this morning dose.  Another solvable problem.  Time and patience. 

Exposure

You get to the point where it's like do I expose myself more?  Do I reveal more secrets in a sad last attempt at ... something.  I'm one of those people who get more active when things come to an end, and I'm feeling things coming to an end lately. School, friendships, relationships, etc. 

An era of something.  This is a big deal. 

The problem is I'm really hurting and as great as it would be to let it out on the anonymous internet, it's really not great.  You have to have personal connections.

On one hand I believe this, but there's a part of me that is like B.S., you gotta write everything, every little horrible thing, and every horrible person that did something to you in the past 10 years. 

I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings, but people have to realize that they can't do that.  They have done it, but there are consequences.  This is my only way to do that.  I don't have any personal connections.  I don't want to go on any dating sites.  I can't go to church, something to do with my mom and her not going to church. 

It's frustrating.  You think you're righteous and then suddenly you aren't.  It's like righteousness is fluid and changing every minute.  Righteousness is personal, not universal...?  I wish God talked about this in the Bible.  Maybe Proverbs, but it mainly talks about wisdom and knowledge. 

There's school, but everyone is either in a secret group that hates me (sometimes because I worked at Six Flags)  and sometimes because I'm not in a secret group and the others are innocent slaves who hate me because they think that they will get a one up and I'm only surviving because this is my first semester back. 

Maybe school's a big popularity contest.  I never believed it because I was homeschooled and there were only three of us and you can't really be popular in a triad.  Then I had a low in junior high in 6th and 7th grade and then 7th grade was fantastic at a Baptist private school, cause everyone was nice and it was small.  Then 8th grade sucked really bad, but I made some friends.  I colorguarded my way through high school.  Not really a popularity contest there. 

I think I use people too hard.  Not even on purpose.  It's like I wave my hand and I've sucked half their life out.  I don't know until later and then it's too late to make amends.  They look sucked out and I look brilliant (except for working at 6 Flags which strangely has more of an impact on me today than all my years of depression) and I want to buddy up with them and they look at me like...I'm the worst human being on the planet and they want to see me really depressed in vengeance.  And for some reason that's acceptable to pick on the one who is outside.  Who is older.  Who is awkward. 

And my neighbors are all depressed because I'm in school and they can't control when I walk my dog.

So personal connections are on the back burner to keeping up with school homework, thinking, acting and reacting to people who don't like me.   There are some people who I adore.  But I keep looking at them in my head and I see them look away from my eyes, head down and shake their heads, like we could never be on the same level. 

So I'm pretty much screwed on personal connections. 

Today, I chose to expose myself more.  To connect, to share with someone who reads what's going on with me.  I hope this helps. 

The Universe

Today I wanted to get up, but I was definitely considering staying in bed. 

I had a funky dream where I was having a debate with my professor and someone called her extra crispy, which was funny because she has a tan is rather curt. 

My dog had stretches of the night outdoors, so I had to get up every so odd hours and put her out or bring her back in when I heard her little bark.  


I'm here, at school, feeling tired.  Not exhausted, but generally tired. 

"What should I do next?"  I wonder, stupidly. 

"Sleep," I think, also pretty stupidly.  I have 2 hours to kill.  Maybe I should have gone to the library and found a couch to sleep on.  There's one on the fourth floor.   Didn't bring a watch today.  Dumb. 

***   ***

Did some Spanish lab work, checked my emails, considered moving from the outside to the inside of the picnic table, and did move. 8:31 am. 

*** ***

Feel much better after Spanish class.   The professor there is so understanding and the classmates are kind, as well.  Then lunch.  Veggie Subway Sandwich.  Now here.  I'm in Nowhere, 3rd Floor, Central Library, UTA, Arlington, Texas, USA, North America, Earth, The Solar System, The Milky Way, The Universe. 

Today

Vegetarian trying to be Vegan.  Can't resist Starbucks.  Milk central.  I'm supposed to limit my coffee drinking, too, so I got a Double Chocolate Chip Frappuccino.  I don't think there's coffee in it. 

Missed a class today, but have a friend in it so I know I don't have to bring scantrons for the test and we can meet later with our group, because we are going to get extra credit by attending an event.

Made me feel awesome after my missing a class this morning.  I was sleeping in the library.  So dumb, but I was tired. 

Have my Advanced Fiction Writing class at 5:30 in the Preston Hall, in the room with the comfortable, black, butt-hugging chairs. 

I have no words.  I open the webpage and I have no words.

I am filled with a great debt of gratitude and peace. 

Also I'm concerned about my speaking up in class.  Silence is a symptom.  I simply didn't have the words.  I'm learning all sorts of disfluencies.  Um, Urg, Arg, Hm, Hmph, Wah, Er, and Urp.  I'm comfortable with sounds.  But when I think of speaking.  The mechanics of moving my mouth.  The breath that it takes to make a noise.  Loudness and softness, Gentleness, or meaness Pitch, Volume, Feeling, Intention.  Anything and everything...I am exhausted already with the very thought.

I think, I will have to move my mouth. He who hesitates is lost.  Love is sweaty and embarrassing.  Don't expect me to speak from my childhood, because I rarely spoke, in a high voice and mostly ridiculousness

Talking, networking, random, spontaneous conversations.  I feel like Fall 2015, I facebooked and listened my butt off with small results.  A foundation was set. Yeses and noes.

Thoughts on a warm Tuesday in September

I am on the third floor of Tremble Hall on the UTA Campus.  I'm right across from the Language Acquisition Center, sitting on one of two old wooden picnic tables. 

I am very sleepy and it is very warm and yet not oppressive.  I've been drinking water out of an Aquafina bottle I have recycled.  It is going towards warm.  I've been Stumbleuponing, the one website which takes you to many different websites, all mostly entertaining.  Trying to stay awake.  It's like sitting in a turret up here.  There are old pasteboard benches with metal slats against the walls, without any chairs to seat them. 

I am disproportionally anxious.    People were talking below me, casually, comfortably and then they floated out.  I think I'm going to fill up my water bottle.  Then to the basement with me.  For another 2 hours until class starts. 

It is getting stuffy up here. 

*************************************************************************************

Restocked the old water bottle, found a snack machine within my budget.  Victory! 

Also I want to shed some love on my readers.  You have not commented.  I don't mind.  I appreciate that you read. 

But if you do comment, I would be very happy.  Even if you were bashing me a little.  I'm kind of self-depreciating.  I just like knowing there are people out there.  People EXIST!

I like to pretend it's too hard to talk to people.  It's like a little game, I think, a sad and dangerous game that I use to define who I am.  Everyone does it to some extent.  It's really unhealthy. 

That's really hard for me to admit.  I've never said that to anyone, and just recently admitted it to myself. 

Second Day of Class

Bored. Sitting out in front of class before class.  I'm wearing a green shirt that I bought for working at the daycare, plain green with a white undershirt.  My Six Flags watch that I bought at Target, and grey jeans that are kind of baggy and faded.  I'm wearing a purple headband and my hair is frizzy at the front and pulled back in the back. 

Tried to get "free" textbooks at the UTA bookstore today.  They were offering 30 day free wait before paying, but the store that was offering the deal was at the college bookstore not the UTA bookstore.  Bummer, but I have my fail for the day. 

The bookstore is brand spanking new.  It's bottom floor consists of apparel and electronics apparently. And the top level is, of course, textbooks. 

I'm pumped about my class.  Happy and pumped.  I'm a cheery, cherry, merry sort. 

************************************************************************************

It was a good class.  I felt I learned something about my self, if not about minerals.  Geology, Meterology, and Occeanography, a teaching class. 

I'm worried about this class though, like I'm worried about all my classes.  I feel like I am on the edge of breaking down.  Just shutting down completely.  It's complicated. 

I find that I've got a lot of people that I can depend on to help me out.  For example, I still am reminded of my friends who bail me out of a lot of situations.  Sometimes I don't know if it's to save me or save themselves.  Maybe that's my selfish brain thinking. 

On the positive side, the University of Texas at Arlington is the friendliest campus that I have been on.  The majority of students are nursing students.  I had thought that there would be more business majors, but no, they are only a small percentage. 

I am slowly and quietly farting.  This is supremely embarrassing.  I have a stomach ache.  Very uncomfortable, after eating spicy shrimp Ramen from the Market that doesn't have plastic forks and spoons.  I had to go wait in this long, long line at the food court, waiting for the microwave. 

I want to make friends. I am afraid of the situation.  Whatever that means.  I look at people, like the three people who are sitting at this comfortable couch cozy with me, two of them Middle Eastern, comfortably chatting, and the fierce black girl with the long hair who is furiously studying into her laptop, and I think, what would induce me to talk to them? 

Maybe if they were depressed and deaf like my mom. I easily talk to my mom.  Even if I am uncomfortable I have the faith that what I'm saying is important for her to hear and I can make a diffrerence. 

OMG.  There was a black guy wearing headphones behind a pillar, in our couch circle that I didn't even see.  People on headphones don't want to talk to people.  I suppose I could organize my homework.  Probably should get on that.  I wonder if there's a bathroom around here.  Two other black girls just showed up, friends of the black girl, sporting Carl's Jr. chicken.  Looks delicious. 

I'm so hungry, but all I have is a cookie and I'm waiting for before my night class to eat it. 

I keep thinking about my babies and how they are growing, Maximus, Anthony, Daniel and Genevive and how they are progressing.  I wonder if Maximus is walking yet; has Anthony stopped biting?  Daniel had his own groove and Genevive...she was just a little pupae. I really imprinted on those kids. 

Another Indian girl showed up and started talking to the first.  Then all the Indian people leave.  I wonder what they were talking about.  Now is not the time to wonder. 

Smiling and laughing seems a big deal in having a conversation. 

I only become animated around my mom, because I think I know how she works. 

I'm going to find a restroom. 

Well, I'm pooped, literally and exhausted-wise from going up 5 flights of stairs.

***********************************************************************************

I found a couch on the 4rth floor.  It is blue and cushy. 

I've looked up my syllabi and these classes are extra hard. Quizzes, homework, Readings, Exams, Writing Exams, Essays.  At once, I'm excited and challenged.  I want to download a planner, but do I really want to waste extra time inputting these assignments?  Is it worth it?  It won't help me do a better job on them.  I think I'm just going to print and highlight.  To do, done, etc.   No extra micro planning, either.  What a waste of time. 

************************************************************************************
************************************************************************************

Not a complete waste of time.  I have written a schedule that I can write into: Fill in the blanks.  Very useful. 

My toes hurt.  To be more specific, between my big toe and the toe it's next to hurts because I wore flip-flops yesterday and got two blisters.  They both hurt like the dickens. 

You would think that being at home all day isn't stressful and to an extent it isn't.   But it can be.  My neck and back start giving me pains and I get stressed out. 

Potato.

I need patience.  I don't have it.  Some people think you can force patience. This is impossible.  The hate or the badness or impatience leaks out and gets onto the people you don't really care about. 

I guess with God all things are possible, but it's hard to believe that God would just up and give me patience if I asked for it.  There have to be some sort of trade off or repercussion.  I'm worried to experiment with God without knowing for sure. 

I'm the worst at everything, but sitting home and doing nothing.

Here's a great chart I made to show sleep helps/aids. 

Sleep Help