Stupid Poem

I sit here wishing,

wishing I never knew you

and sadly;

I never did. 

Story about a Boy

The first time I started noticing boys was in the 2nd grade, everyday that Jason the Red Ranger (and then Tommy the Green Ranger, who I liked more) would appear on screen on the my family's small tv screen ....my heart would flutter. It wasn't until the 4th grade that I got my first real "crush." Poor boy, he caught a lot of flack for me liking him because I wasn't exactly one of the most prettiest girls in the class. He was psuedo-grundge and sort of a bad ass, him and his friends got arrested for shoplifting long before anyone knew how to spell the damn word. This boy was confused as to why I liked him but used my feelings to his advantage, he usually cut me in the lunch line. I think I even let him copy my homework once. 

Yep, even as a youngerster I allowed boys I had feelings for to step all over me in the name of grand affection. Even in the present day, I have been known to allow myself to be stepped on by those guys that I adore. For example, a former roommate who I cared for deeply didn't realize that he was a disgusting pig who left burger bags and french fry holders in his wake, why? Because I cleaned up after him everywhere he turned, it wasn't until he moved away and uncovered the dark truth about himself. Which is ironic, if you actually saw the room I kept. 

I often sit in my bed and wonder, when did it become ingrained into me that being stepped on would be attractive to guys. Is it a learned behavior? Because I don't remember a time when my mother ever allowed herself to be pushed aside by a man. Does it have to deal with the patrilineal race that happens to take up half my DNA? Is there a chance that its an aquired behavior that was passed on through the generations? Or could it be because of my father, who is hot-tempered, controlling ball of fun? No, because that wouldn't explain 4th grade (I didn't live with him until the 7th grade).  If I find the answer, is there even some type of cognitive therapy that will change this aspect about myself? What if I said that this trait is something that I don't even notice that I do? That doing things for a person that I care for is something innate, that I just like to see the ones I care for being happy? 

I'll admit it, I can become a smother-er and I guess that means that I am just up the creek without a paddle when it comes to this affection B.S. 

I know I am not the only person with this issue. That there are men and women out there who equate affection with bending over backward for the person. It can often be over the top or subtle but in general, it just causes a little bit of more pain when the other person doesn't return the feelings. The heart hurts even more when the desired person uses those feeling for their own self gain. 

Being used, having the heart stepped on, being walked all over.... common stories of those who do the same things I do for another person. 

Ugh. What a great pre-Valetines Day BLOG! 

Phem: the awesome blog

I am a contributer for the blog Phem, something very awesome created by a classmate of mine (and one of the few readers of this blog.... hey homie! hope it doesn't freak you out to read about your self! :-S ). It talks about feminist issues around the Hampton Roads area, around the world, feminist events that are happening around the area , etc. My summary is not doing the site justice, as I am a terribly ungifted and unmotivated writer. 

Which gives this blog a concieted turn! 

I have a lot of ideas for the blog but I am intimidated by those who have written before me. The articles about pimpology, feminity and sexuality, genital cutting, even the summary on the movie that was showing at CNU; I feel as if it surpasses anything that I have to write. 

So what to do, what to do. 

Do I give up and admit defeat? or do I...

write about all the ideas that I have bottled up in my head????? 

.................. 

This weekend

This is just a reminder that I have to blog about my weekend. 

My friend came down this weekend. It turned into a mess. I am going to try to blog about it.

..... It was too complicated and too dramatic to blog about. If you want to know about it, please set aside 4 hours and a bottle of red bull in order to listen to me spin my tale of unbelieveable bullshit. 

Believe or not to believe, these are words of wisdom

The Serenity Prayer

God grant me the serenity 
to accept the things I cannot change; 
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference. 

Living one day at a time; 
Enjoying one moment at a time; 
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace; 
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it; 
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life 
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen. 

--Reinhold Niebuhr

*I totally took that picture

Random Thought

..... I think I need a freakum' dress. 

Thanks Beyonce

Depression

Imagine that you fell into a muddy puddle, not only can you not pull yourself out but its downpouring and the puddle gets bigger and deeper, something that you were not prepared for. Not only were you not ready, you find yourself just wanting to stop the fight and just let yourself become one with the puddle. 

That's sort of what depression feels like. There are some days where everything is fine, the birds are chirping; life is wonderful and great. Then there are days were one will find themselves drowning in a pool of their own sorrow, not trying to fight it really, just wanting to stay back and wait for the sadness to wander away; although it rarely feels like it ever will.  

If you haven't noticed, I am a sufferer of depression, I'm just really great at faking it. [Screw you if you don't believe in such things; its real, and runs on the female side of my family. Why do you think we are all half-crazy] Call it a hereditary chemical imbalence, a period of prolonged saddness or just plain psychotic. I just call it apart of my everyday life. 

On my good days, the days were life is just peachy-keen, where I feel normal, balanced and the laughter that comes out of my mouth seems to flow from my soul. When I hate to be sleeping because it takes away from the things that I love: school, school work, work, family, friends and anything else that gives me a skip to my step. 

During my bad days, normal activities seem like a chore, and I have to fake the happiness that seems to allude from me.  These are the days where I want to sleep my life away because the sorrow doesn't seem to follow me into my dreams. It's because of these types of days that I feel like the fakest person in a room because the happiness that seems to radiate is all an act, just so no one will feel the need to ask me "What's wrong?"

Excuse me, what's wrong? I'm stuck in a neverending rollercoaster of emotions that no pill, bottle, drug, counselor, family member, classmate or friend can never truly help me get off of. To deal with depression is to deal with the neverending process of feeling like shit and hating yourself when there is no true reason to. Which is hard as hell considering that I love life. 

I just hate depression. 

I get so tired of being sad sometimes that all I want to do is cry. Cry until there are no tears left, and then go about my buisness like nothing happend. 

I must cry about 10 times a week. 

Don't put me on any type of watch, I would rather go through life battling my emotions than not living it at all. There are days that the only thing that gets me going is the fact that I am alive and I can not , truly, complain about much. 

....and for those who have heard my never-ending tale about my life before college, will know that I am a very strong person. 

It's 213am at this very moment, so I have to cut this blog short. Did I mention that I feel like crap because I am sick? 

Take a moment to observe the people around you, most of those people probably are not the person they really want to be. 

Isn't college great like that? 

....Does the feeling ever go away?