I feel as though the last 4 years have been a long streaming thought of useless information and emotions. Stream of consciousness, that's what its called.
I have had soooo many diverse thoughts I had often though perhaps I needed some SERIOUS help. And now, no I feel so totally normal and at ease with the information that may fly from my mouth. Maybe it flies out because whomever I am speaking with needs to hear something so random and unfoundedly ridiculous, lol, really does need to hear it. Sigh
I used to be so ashamed of my newly found adult outspoken-ness. I was a shy girl, didn't say much, screamed about rock stars, but never really had an opinion or the balls to share. It was all about my boobies looking ok and not like a freak. Or the fact that I had a hole in my shoe. OOOR the wonderful fact that I would fall flat on my ass while talking to a friend who happens to be standing next to my crush of the month. ALright, crush of the semester. Call it teenage obsession. So mouth was typically sealed and when something came out it was a Duran Duran yelp
I started this whole "expression" of oneself really late in my youth. Try about 30. For some reason all of the turds I picked up seemed to sort of disappear and my brain found its self confidence and started to gain knowledge on a conscious level. Lets not give 3 years of therapy any credit. Its not like I had an amazing facilitator or two in group therapy once a week either. I would not change that for anything.
It took a lot of oblivious practice I guess. I have no idea how suddenly I could blurt out facts about my position on issues with regards to different subjects of that particular time and know what the hell I was talking about!!! Slowly but surely (shirely, heheeh), I transformed into a soap boxer. YIPES!
My family was in shock at the fact that I was becoming a woman with a voice. Not just any voice, however, a big voice that made sense and meant what she said and said what she meant. Protected onself and standing up for what she believed in. Oh JOY!!
Suddenly the voice was muted and a set back or 5,000,000 years and rendered me fearful to speak, then suddenly I bounced back! I found my voice, my passions, my love, fear, compassion, etc., and I love it. I love my voice, my strong will and the refusal to back down, but do it respectfully for the opposition most of the time, if I have to.
I'm not claiming to be an awesomely intelligent debator, I just love the practice of one's voice. The fact that I can say what I need to and still maintain my sense of self control and facts makes me feel so alive.
It is alive. Life. I am convinced my voice has its own mind as well. I find myself responding to issues that are so important to me and find myself typing, talking, rummaging through my thoughts with fervor. It feels almost like a flash of fever. OH this passion to speak is wonderful. I hear myself sometimes and I am in shock.
There is no reason on God's green earth anyone should have to feel ashamed to speak and practice our freedom of being a human being. We are not here to shush, we are here to SPEAK AND SHARE our thoughts and all that mushy stuff :)
I guess you could say I'm having a good day. It also feels incredible when friends you have not spoken to since high school send notes over commenting in such a positive way pertaining to my intellect. Lol, intellect. Something I would never think of being or brag about. I'm a serious high school drop out. These notes are the biggest self-esteem boosting statements. Its not like being told you're pretty, nice boobs, nice whatever the hell they think of. It meant and means soooo much when my voice is heard and appreciated for the way I convey my message. NEVER would I think this would be something to spark the life back into me. EVER!
That said, I'm starting to feel voracious for adventure and life. Its amazing how much a small sentence just put the icing on top of the delicious strawberry and whipped cream cake with pistachio ice cream on the side. The compilation of it all. And I actually feel as though I have made it to the almost an adult stage lol!!
I'm a total late bloomer. Married late, schooled late, careered too late, however, retired too early. I shouldn't say that, but I'm blessed for now. For this day, this very one day I have all I can have. I am blessed with the life I have been given with my husband. Oh my, am I.
SO I will move forward with my learning of inner peace and containment of anger and rage that festers within me and use my energies for many things I believe in very strongly. In person, on FB, in email, phone, who the hell cares, its what I believe. I am so thankful for this comfort with myself speaking. I mean seriously, I was born speaking. Literally asked if I was a midget when I was about 3.
My biggest and most important thing I wanted to say within these text walls is to empower our children to speak. I was intially going to talk about how my family would say stop talking and all of that, however, when i realized what I was saying after I typed it, it was positive and I love it!
Let's listen to our little talking people walking around singing songs from NikJr. and quoting Tinkerbell or Wow! Wow! Wubzy! For this is such a gift of creativity that cannot be taught in school or at a job. It IS their soul they share, their hearts, thoughts and power. It has been proven that children who speak a lot, we're talkin talk radio babies, tend to have more creative tendencies and succeed moreso. I just love their little voices :) And I love the light that shines from within.
Soon they will be our next great speakers and our voice. For now, we are their voice and want them to have the free spirited passion to speak without being embarrassed. I am looking so forward to my 3 year old nephew to begin his path into school. He's a talker and I adore every moment of it. Even if its him screaming about going into time out :\
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Saturday, February 20, 2010
IF you told me 11 years ago that I would be married with several pets, I would tell you you're crazy. Well, here I am. Married, 7 pets, a beautiful home and MARRIED!
I was a spry little 32 year old when I met John. On the internet. He was rude, obnoxious and plain old stupid. Not a good idea for a man to behave, specially with me. I was sassy, strong, self confident and wanted nothing to do with men except for sex.
I had met several very young men, ew, exchange numbers, have the lamest dinner dates possible and wondered if they were lay worthy. Kind of like the whole sponge worthy episode on Seinfeld. He was a hottie or so I thought in my drunken NYE stupor.
It was 1999 and I had sworn to hoodratdom and using the opposite sex, as men had done to women throughout the beginning of man. I wonder if they had bars back then. Odd drinks like the "I just discovered Fire" cocktail. Anyway, that was it! I was going to have sex with strangers and go home. Ha! Or so I thought.
The boys, literally 23, were "eager" to go out. Loved my giant ass and loved the fact that I would make them beg for my number. Serious! I loved it. I had once made this giant cutie pie get down on his knee and ask me for my number LOUDLY during last call as the bar emptied. Everyone saw him and that was mmm mmm good.
The sex never happened, the usage of weirdos, as we know, turned out to be. One was married and almost got me killed. Amazing. One followed me out to my car and actually thought I would go have "breakfast" with him. Oh and another. So gross. We're dancing up in the club and decided I would like for him to touch my ass and attach his mouth to my neck, much like an octopus.
Ok, so the fun was had more with my girlfriends. Turning down drinks and men/boys and "accidentally" grabbing the hotties asses. "Ooops! I am so sorry. Did I do that. Noooo." Or the "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to put my boobies on you or in your face." Oh good times. GOOOD EFFING TIMES!
As life went on in this state of mind I gathered what ended up loser after loser. I guess that happens in a bar full of younger than I testosterone filled men. Mmmmmhmmm. Men. The smell of men makes me wild. LITERALLY.
I met John right at the highpoint of hoochie time. I got that close. I was going to FINALLY get laid after a 3 year dry spell. He interfered with my self destructive behavior! He got in the way, if you will. And I was thankful. But married?
Marriage, weird word. Firey weekend sex buddies? Now that's awesome. And so it goes. 11 years. Wow. ELEVEN YEARS. Do you people have any idea what a feat it is to make it that long in a relationship in my family of women? It is a challenge and a complete shock. I was more or less the 3year habit girl or so it started out to be. To have a guy around for that long was something we could not fathom. At all.
Dating n' stuff was good. The sex was amazing, far better than my fiance' for sure. I had never, ever been pursued in such a way. I had never in my entire adult life been told to be myself and that they would never try to change me. Wha, huh?
11 years of sorded fun? Times were good and I was flat broke. I brought in maybe 600 bucks a month. This poor girl with nothing to offer but my awesome lovin skills. LMAO! He says I love you and I freak out!! He can't you can't its too soon! No! It had only been two weeks for the love of Mike!
SO here I am. 11 years later, married, bored to death on a Saturday night with stitches in my head.
It takes a special person to make it to my side in 3.2 seconds with a wad of clothes to stop the bleeding. I barely like my own blood. Warm like a bath running like water. Yelling like a true Meximelt. "aaaayyyyiiieee!" At 1a.m.
Four hours later, we're passed out in urgent care, gooey blood coming from the skull. Frozen room, hard but heavenly gurney a bag of peas and my guy. My sleepy hero. Adventures I tell ya.
The vows we took went back and forth and racing in my head. It does whenever there is a crisis with us. "You shall feel no rain", keeps playing over and over in my head. Remembering the wedding, coming home with a migrane and looking at my boring guy watch the news. GOD HE IS SOOOOO BORING! Lol. Not that I regret it. But I just wish it were a little less mundane. Mundane....
In my frustration that is cause by such boredom, I am going back and forth to the east coast to see a friend or friends. This would be the third time in the last year. GOD that town makes me so happy and feel so alive. I would love to live there if I could afford. Just a little co-op situation would be great. But who would be there for me? My lover? My unfriended friend? My dogs? My shoes or purses? Or would it be the hot dog vendor.
SOmetimes I wonder if I married too soon. If I just didn't sew the oats enough. If I am ready for this comittment deal. I do, quite honeslt wish from time to time, perhaps too much, that I were single. Wearing those slightly plunging blouses carrying on dancing with strangers, drinking and living it up. And sometimes I don't feel that I've gotten that out of my system. I want to be single to be free and see my sweet lover. Yes, lover. He is mine without shame. I'm an adulteress. A giant red letter should be placed on my shirts. However, he knows.
I guess my point is to seriously think about whether or not you want to settle down, literally. It is absolute and you have to want and desire such tv watching or baby making and then diaper changing. Yet another regret.
I just can't believe I've been with him for 11 years. Odd but true. I'm assuming I am in for the long haul. Otherwise, he would be the best one that got away. Even though its another Saturday night I get to watch him pass out, snore and go to bed by 9! I know 9. 11 years, wow.
I was a spry little 32 year old when I met John. On the internet. He was rude, obnoxious and plain old stupid. Not a good idea for a man to behave, specially with me. I was sassy, strong, self confident and wanted nothing to do with men except for sex.
I had met several very young men, ew, exchange numbers, have the lamest dinner dates possible and wondered if they were lay worthy. Kind of like the whole sponge worthy episode on Seinfeld. He was a hottie or so I thought in my drunken NYE stupor.
It was 1999 and I had sworn to hoodratdom and using the opposite sex, as men had done to women throughout the beginning of man. I wonder if they had bars back then. Odd drinks like the "I just discovered Fire" cocktail. Anyway, that was it! I was going to have sex with strangers and go home. Ha! Or so I thought.
The boys, literally 23, were "eager" to go out. Loved my giant ass and loved the fact that I would make them beg for my number. Serious! I loved it. I had once made this giant cutie pie get down on his knee and ask me for my number LOUDLY during last call as the bar emptied. Everyone saw him and that was mmm mmm good.
The sex never happened, the usage of weirdos, as we know, turned out to be. One was married and almost got me killed. Amazing. One followed me out to my car and actually thought I would go have "breakfast" with him. Oh and another. So gross. We're dancing up in the club and decided I would like for him to touch my ass and attach his mouth to my neck, much like an octopus.
Ok, so the fun was had more with my girlfriends. Turning down drinks and men/boys and "accidentally" grabbing the hotties asses. "Ooops! I am so sorry. Did I do that. Noooo." Or the "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to put my boobies on you or in your face." Oh good times. GOOOD EFFING TIMES!
As life went on in this state of mind I gathered what ended up loser after loser. I guess that happens in a bar full of younger than I testosterone filled men. Mmmmmhmmm. Men. The smell of men makes me wild. LITERALLY.
I met John right at the highpoint of hoochie time. I got that close. I was going to FINALLY get laid after a 3 year dry spell. He interfered with my self destructive behavior! He got in the way, if you will. And I was thankful. But married?
Marriage, weird word. Firey weekend sex buddies? Now that's awesome. And so it goes. 11 years. Wow. ELEVEN YEARS. Do you people have any idea what a feat it is to make it that long in a relationship in my family of women? It is a challenge and a complete shock. I was more or less the 3year habit girl or so it started out to be. To have a guy around for that long was something we could not fathom. At all.
Dating n' stuff was good. The sex was amazing, far better than my fiance' for sure. I had never, ever been pursued in such a way. I had never in my entire adult life been told to be myself and that they would never try to change me. Wha, huh?
11 years of sorded fun? Times were good and I was flat broke. I brought in maybe 600 bucks a month. This poor girl with nothing to offer but my awesome lovin skills. LMAO! He says I love you and I freak out!! He can't you can't its too soon! No! It had only been two weeks for the love of Mike!
SO here I am. 11 years later, married, bored to death on a Saturday night with stitches in my head.
It takes a special person to make it to my side in 3.2 seconds with a wad of clothes to stop the bleeding. I barely like my own blood. Warm like a bath running like water. Yelling like a true Meximelt. "aaaayyyyiiieee!" At 1a.m.
Four hours later, we're passed out in urgent care, gooey blood coming from the skull. Frozen room, hard but heavenly gurney a bag of peas and my guy. My sleepy hero. Adventures I tell ya.
The vows we took went back and forth and racing in my head. It does whenever there is a crisis with us. "You shall feel no rain", keeps playing over and over in my head. Remembering the wedding, coming home with a migrane and looking at my boring guy watch the news. GOD HE IS SOOOOO BORING! Lol. Not that I regret it. But I just wish it were a little less mundane. Mundane....
In my frustration that is cause by such boredom, I am going back and forth to the east coast to see a friend or friends. This would be the third time in the last year. GOD that town makes me so happy and feel so alive. I would love to live there if I could afford. Just a little co-op situation would be great. But who would be there for me? My lover? My unfriended friend? My dogs? My shoes or purses? Or would it be the hot dog vendor.
SOmetimes I wonder if I married too soon. If I just didn't sew the oats enough. If I am ready for this comittment deal. I do, quite honeslt wish from time to time, perhaps too much, that I were single. Wearing those slightly plunging blouses carrying on dancing with strangers, drinking and living it up. And sometimes I don't feel that I've gotten that out of my system. I want to be single to be free and see my sweet lover. Yes, lover. He is mine without shame. I'm an adulteress. A giant red letter should be placed on my shirts. However, he knows.
I guess my point is to seriously think about whether or not you want to settle down, literally. It is absolute and you have to want and desire such tv watching or baby making and then diaper changing. Yet another regret.
I just can't believe I've been with him for 11 years. Odd but true. I'm assuming I am in for the long haul. Otherwise, he would be the best one that got away. Even though its another Saturday night I get to watch him pass out, snore and go to bed by 9! I know 9. 11 years, wow.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Music, I guess?
"Oooh baby I love your waaay, everyday." Lovely song. Lovely, lovely, looooohoooovely. Reminds me of childhood, when it was all rosie colored and less complicated than this adult life, I wished so badly to come quickly. I longed for it so badly. And now I have remind myself to be careful for what I wish for. Not that I want to be dead or anything of the sorts, I'm just sayin it kind of sucks sometimes.
So I'm 10, on my bike singing Frampton. The breeze from the speed of riding on my bike. Long black hair, black hair all the way down my back to my ass. As a matter o' fact it flew, literally flew in the wind. The tennis ball in my spokes made no sense and I couldn't sense of how or why it was there. All it did was make my bike ride kind of wonky. Really? A tennis ball? Hmmm. I kept on riding. God knows I AM the epitomy of 10years old. I was striving for Tomboyism, but not allowed as I was the "doll" of the family. You know, the first daughter, therefore, the dressied up daughter. Honestly, just like a doll. Perfect hair, and on and on....kind of sounds like an obsession I have currently shed myself of.
The sense of freedom from riding a bike, rollerskating, running and being a kid. Sweet and simple. I'd listen to my fold and play record/am radio some friends gave me for a holiday or something. I was 10 and I was a bad ass. Triumph, Sonny & Cher, The Beach Boys 45s were handed down to me from a cousin whom I ended up dispising for the rest of my life. I mean really, what would you do if your 15 yr old cousin calls you a little bitch? You'd wanna bite her for sure. Literally BITE her. I was a biter back then. Heheheh
So many songs that bring back so many good times and memories of really awesome experiences in my life. The first time I went to a bbq over my Dad's vato friend's house. "Lowrider, get a little lower nah." Good God, the rock n' roll my brother would play. All because of this, music has brought me in and out of "stuff" we'll say. Oh yeah, my father was a hoodlum. A pachuco, hung out with the homies. Wore a chain from his pocket in a giant loop. Dippity do in the hair. VATO with a wanna be tattoo.
There's this one song I cannot get through and it makes me quiver/shutter with utter disgust and the sensation of vomitting. 50 Ways To Leave Your Lover. Now that one kills me with those memories. All part of life non-theless. "Now slip out the back Jack". UGH! It makes me feel ill to write those words. I hear it and think of a horrible person I once knew. EW
Love's Babysoft perfume. sniifffff. aaaaah.
Elton John seems to be one of my favs amongst the other favs, lol. Reminds me of just being so care free, no bills, cars, husbands, children, stress, ugly people and things that just get to me like nothing else.
I never realized what a combination of music I enjoyed. They were healing and damaging at the same time. Joyful with colors and then slam into a brick wall. Currently, that is. In one of those flashback things. But its ok. Its mighty fine. It reminds me of my mortality. How old I really am. OH BILLY JOEL!! Love him. Mad passion.
43? Really? Who's 43? Certainly not me. I do not have any recollection of being anything older than 10. Who and what are you talking about? "I love you just the way you arrrrre." Oh sweet Billy Joel. SO would that make me what they call dissociative disorder? Haha! Another tag ay?
I turned 43, in case I didn't drop a bomb of a hint. Lol. I can't say that I feel 43 or that I can even own up to being 43. Odd stuff. This aging business is so difficult to process without the muddy puddles of memories. Its on the tip of your tongue. You can smell and taste a moment of your life. Or in this case, hear and see. And whats up with putting a number on how many years I've been here.
I descended upon the masses with bad humor, too much compassion, pain, and humility. I have no idea why or how I am here or still here at that. See, life has handed out some seriously shitty hand. I have never won poker nor will I and thats ok too. I just figure its material for a bad comdienne, such as myself. Aspiring to be one, at least one thing I desired as a child. Goodness, I wanted to be anything creative and had an expression from my mind and whatever else flies around my head Writing blogs was certainly the farthest from my mind. But I really enjoy it. I can say words that make no sense or belong together. I can SPEW the rot from my brain.
Its amazing what rot and moss is in here. And thats ok too. I'm so not complaining, I think I am sharing how complacent I have become. So not good for my soul. Sometimes its really comfy though. Depressed? Sleep in, why the hell not?! Mania for shopping? Woot! I love shopping. But in the end, it IS all ok. I just wonder what kind of impact I've made on anyone or anything. I hate the thought of being a time vampire and abusing my privilege of life.
Which brings me to the fact that I got my whopping settlement from the vampires that work for the state disability and thr minions. Yeah. LOADS. Just enough to let me buy a few luxury items, take a vacay and help Momma out cause of an awful financial situation. They really did me a favor. SUper favor. "Hey Tammy Osuna-Burton! We've put a price on what you're hard work totalled up to be. Aaaaand its half of your annual salary. Here honey, go shopping."
Those big spender and employers of all things negative. There is some residual pain. A little bitterness in that they "decided" that I didn't have a problem at the workplace due to an ass I worked with. But it happened to be due to a past life experience. Boy am I going to haunt them. Really scare the crap outta them. OK ENOUGH. I just get a little sad and upset once in a while. Oh the meloncholy. I liked my job. I really liked everyone I worked with. I had what I needed, made what I needed and it was good. I shopped for random stuff and mostly for others. Had really nice clothes and bought jewelry I loved. Having grown up a little poor girl, this was super important. I bought diamonds, precious stones, great shoes, gifts and gifts and regret not having donated more. But you see, we end up caught up in that and become the boss I know as evil and evilette. And again, thats ok. I'm in a better place?
SO my point has probably become a big ball of confusion and I've gone of the beaten path again. Oh I love to blog. No grammatical corrections, criticism is only for the misspelled and however ignorant I may seem. It all really doesnt matter anyway. Its just words. words, words, wooords. Such a great place to divulge random shit.
Ok back to it. What I am trying to confirm is that I really don't like this adult business. It's wonderful cause I can come and go as I please and say what I choose to say. Pick my own politics. Stand on a soap box and preach my opinion, back it up with a coke and smile...lol. And that I love Peter Frampton and thank him for just one part in his song. "Oh baby I love your way. Everyday. Wanna be with you night and day..." Something I would dream of as a child. I would hear it in my head and hope someone would sing it to me. Love me that much. And he does, I think. Its hard to tell sometimes. SomeONE who would walk over to me and hold my cheek and kiss my lips ever so softly as if a whisper. Hmmm. I loved being 10.
So I'm 10, on my bike singing Frampton. The breeze from the speed of riding on my bike. Long black hair, black hair all the way down my back to my ass. As a matter o' fact it flew, literally flew in the wind. The tennis ball in my spokes made no sense and I couldn't sense of how or why it was there. All it did was make my bike ride kind of wonky. Really? A tennis ball? Hmmm. I kept on riding. God knows I AM the epitomy of 10years old. I was striving for Tomboyism, but not allowed as I was the "doll" of the family. You know, the first daughter, therefore, the dressied up daughter. Honestly, just like a doll. Perfect hair, and on and on....kind of sounds like an obsession I have currently shed myself of.
The sense of freedom from riding a bike, rollerskating, running and being a kid. Sweet and simple. I'd listen to my fold and play record/am radio some friends gave me for a holiday or something. I was 10 and I was a bad ass. Triumph, Sonny & Cher, The Beach Boys 45s were handed down to me from a cousin whom I ended up dispising for the rest of my life. I mean really, what would you do if your 15 yr old cousin calls you a little bitch? You'd wanna bite her for sure. Literally BITE her. I was a biter back then. Heheheh
So many songs that bring back so many good times and memories of really awesome experiences in my life. The first time I went to a bbq over my Dad's vato friend's house. "Lowrider, get a little lower nah." Good God, the rock n' roll my brother would play. All because of this, music has brought me in and out of "stuff" we'll say. Oh yeah, my father was a hoodlum. A pachuco, hung out with the homies. Wore a chain from his pocket in a giant loop. Dippity do in the hair. VATO with a wanna be tattoo.
There's this one song I cannot get through and it makes me quiver/shutter with utter disgust and the sensation of vomitting. 50 Ways To Leave Your Lover. Now that one kills me with those memories. All part of life non-theless. "Now slip out the back Jack". UGH! It makes me feel ill to write those words. I hear it and think of a horrible person I once knew. EW
Love's Babysoft perfume. sniifffff. aaaaah.
Elton John seems to be one of my favs amongst the other favs, lol. Reminds me of just being so care free, no bills, cars, husbands, children, stress, ugly people and things that just get to me like nothing else.
I never realized what a combination of music I enjoyed. They were healing and damaging at the same time. Joyful with colors and then slam into a brick wall. Currently, that is. In one of those flashback things. But its ok. Its mighty fine. It reminds me of my mortality. How old I really am. OH BILLY JOEL!! Love him. Mad passion.
43? Really? Who's 43? Certainly not me. I do not have any recollection of being anything older than 10. Who and what are you talking about? "I love you just the way you arrrrre." Oh sweet Billy Joel. SO would that make me what they call dissociative disorder? Haha! Another tag ay?
I turned 43, in case I didn't drop a bomb of a hint. Lol. I can't say that I feel 43 or that I can even own up to being 43. Odd stuff. This aging business is so difficult to process without the muddy puddles of memories. Its on the tip of your tongue. You can smell and taste a moment of your life. Or in this case, hear and see. And whats up with putting a number on how many years I've been here.
I descended upon the masses with bad humor, too much compassion, pain, and humility. I have no idea why or how I am here or still here at that. See, life has handed out some seriously shitty hand. I have never won poker nor will I and thats ok too. I just figure its material for a bad comdienne, such as myself. Aspiring to be one, at least one thing I desired as a child. Goodness, I wanted to be anything creative and had an expression from my mind and whatever else flies around my head Writing blogs was certainly the farthest from my mind. But I really enjoy it. I can say words that make no sense or belong together. I can SPEW the rot from my brain.
Its amazing what rot and moss is in here. And thats ok too. I'm so not complaining, I think I am sharing how complacent I have become. So not good for my soul. Sometimes its really comfy though. Depressed? Sleep in, why the hell not?! Mania for shopping? Woot! I love shopping. But in the end, it IS all ok. I just wonder what kind of impact I've made on anyone or anything. I hate the thought of being a time vampire and abusing my privilege of life.
Which brings me to the fact that I got my whopping settlement from the vampires that work for the state disability and thr minions. Yeah. LOADS. Just enough to let me buy a few luxury items, take a vacay and help Momma out cause of an awful financial situation. They really did me a favor. SUper favor. "Hey Tammy Osuna-Burton! We've put a price on what you're hard work totalled up to be. Aaaaand its half of your annual salary. Here honey, go shopping."
Those big spender and employers of all things negative. There is some residual pain. A little bitterness in that they "decided" that I didn't have a problem at the workplace due to an ass I worked with. But it happened to be due to a past life experience. Boy am I going to haunt them. Really scare the crap outta them. OK ENOUGH. I just get a little sad and upset once in a while. Oh the meloncholy. I liked my job. I really liked everyone I worked with. I had what I needed, made what I needed and it was good. I shopped for random stuff and mostly for others. Had really nice clothes and bought jewelry I loved. Having grown up a little poor girl, this was super important. I bought diamonds, precious stones, great shoes, gifts and gifts and regret not having donated more. But you see, we end up caught up in that and become the boss I know as evil and evilette. And again, thats ok. I'm in a better place?
SO my point has probably become a big ball of confusion and I've gone of the beaten path again. Oh I love to blog. No grammatical corrections, criticism is only for the misspelled and however ignorant I may seem. It all really doesnt matter anyway. Its just words. words, words, wooords. Such a great place to divulge random shit.
Ok back to it. What I am trying to confirm is that I really don't like this adult business. It's wonderful cause I can come and go as I please and say what I choose to say. Pick my own politics. Stand on a soap box and preach my opinion, back it up with a coke and smile...lol. And that I love Peter Frampton and thank him for just one part in his song. "Oh baby I love your way. Everyday. Wanna be with you night and day..." Something I would dream of as a child. I would hear it in my head and hope someone would sing it to me. Love me that much. And he does, I think. Its hard to tell sometimes. SomeONE who would walk over to me and hold my cheek and kiss my lips ever so softly as if a whisper. Hmmm. I loved being 10.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Can't get out tha funk.
Rainy, rainy days. I love rainy days, they bring new fresh air, the flowers fall in love with the sun again and things just seem anew. I love the rain. I love many things about the rain and what it does and means for most of us. Only this year it seems just wet. No biggie and I think I figured out why.
For about two years after John and I got married, we decided to try to have a child for about a year. Nothing happened but late cycles, anticipation and fear, but mostly disappointment and depression.
I guess you could say I misled myself into believing I didn't want children when we wed in 2002. Maybe I did. And now I am regretting some of my decisions. Marriage, family, happiness and no babies.
I honestly could not stand the thought of the responsibility of having a little human being. The stomach with a person inside floating around in fluid. The bubble in the belly, pain, aches and any difficulties that could have happened to a woman of 38. Wow. Anmios. That long needle stuck in your belly button that checks the fluids and health of the baby. All of this happens after 35. And yet, I was throwing it back and forth in my head.
Right around my 38th birthday, which was our 2 yr anni. I felt the need,hunger, desire, and need to make a child in my belly. Meanwhile, John was not on the same page, finding out he never really was. I ached for a child in my belly. I ached for feeling feet, hands, hiccups, shoving and pushing around in my belly. A living being inside of me growing. I didn't even mind the thought of the possibility of those wonderful bathroom issues and vomitting. I really, really hit me hard.
I cried, I didn't care, I cried and tried to figure out what and how to approach John with the new attitude about babies and finally realized the feelings of desiring a child since I'm 18, was still there. As it still is at 43.
We went to yummy dinner at our favorite hole in the wall italian place in Eagle Rock. Oh it was a fav. I miss it often. I'm still rummaging through my brain about what and how to tell my new husband of two years, my new husband who is going to be told he has to inpregnate me or I will be lost forever in a pool of regret. "Will he still love me? Will he leave me? Will he agree or call me nuts?" Oh those thoughts. I was so worried he would laugh and run. He didn't
We ordered, and chatted away with our glasses of bitter house chianti. Feeling giddy about going home and snuggling together. You know, new marriage stuff. NOT that I'm cynical about it, its just something true. I looked at him across the table and just blurted it out. "I want to have a baby and I need to know if you want to have one with me. If not, you can just get me pregnant and I will be on my way." He had the look of seeing a ghost and said I was nuts and wants me to be happy and ok, lets try. Needless to say, nothing came of it and I could not get pregnant. And as much as I hate to say it, if both don't want something it wont happen.
Five years later, we are childless and have lots of pets. Which is great cause I can come and go as I please, do whatever the hell I want right? Life is so carefree. All there is is poop duty, potty training and cuddling animals. "Have to go potty? Go outside now, make poopie doop...good girl, you made poop outside. What a good dog." Oh its exciting indeed. I love them and am blessed with them, but what does is serve to the spirit of desiring parenthood?
Many of my friends tell me to embrace the fact that I have none. Or I should be happy with what I have. "You have a beautiful home, awesome husband and all of those cute animals. I'd take poop pick up over diapers and crying." Ha! I don't think many people realize that a lot of us who regret not having a child and having animals instead hear those statements and sigh with questions. Are these animals truly feeding my maternal instincts? Do I get to see them off to their first day of school? Do I have the blessing of kissing them goodnight after a nice warm bath and homework? Did I, me, myself, I, I, I, get to bond with a little human being from my body and provide them life through nurturing them in my belly? I mean, God gave me a uterus to possibly utilize as a cozy place to carry a child for 9 months, right? And finally, my breasts. My breasts are given as a means to feed said child should I have one. This female body that is designed to carry life and give part of itself to love and care for. The annoying misconception of breasts being a part of the female body to objectify. Thats not such a bad thing, but the reality of what my body, in my opinion is made for.
On to my biggest regret which is becoming childless. I wake in the morning sometimes with a tear in my eye that I am not hearing someone call for me for love and morning kisses. A little guy or girl asking for help putting on her socks. Or even watching and experiencing a major blow out about absolutely nothing that makes any sense. Detention, the flu, awards, saying "I love you Mommy". These things that seem mundane to those who have children or one child do not realize the blessings that are good bad and really ugly, are truly blessings. These things are gifts. GIFTS.
What it all boils down to is realizing how and what brings me down and what brings me up. I am regretting not having a baby as I wanted much younger in life, otherwise I would not be in this funk about it. I also feel that I should have taken a different path from time to time with regards to whom I married. And now being 43 and 56 is just not smart to try again. I would not do that to a person. With medications and age against us, its all that much harder to hit the reality wall from time to time.
I have to honestly say, I DO come to a funk everyday when I walk by one of our spare rooms and jack and jill bathroom. Out in the yard with space for club houses and swings. Room enough for baby to sleep in our room once we would bring baby home. Life seems to not have as much meaning as it should. Life seems empty with nothing to really look forward to. And the hardest and darkest part is knowing all of my life will be for not but shopping and running around town. Its as though I am here, just to be here. And on my darkest days battling depression, hurting for no reason at all, I wonder why I'm here.
SO my next step in life is to try to find some piece of mind with regards to children. Perhaps it will never change and I will be alone in the end. I guess that has to be alright. Well, I know it has to be alright. I do have my awesome nephew, but who knows? My husband is 14 years my senior. SO what does that say to me. I'm a drag tonight. A real downer. For this I am sorry to dump such regret and sadness.
Alright kids, I think I've said my piece of the funk for the day and hopefully it will leave with the clouds and the rain.
Its the rainy days. The rainy days also bring clarity and a clean slate for me. Oh rainy days I love thee.
For about two years after John and I got married, we decided to try to have a child for about a year. Nothing happened but late cycles, anticipation and fear, but mostly disappointment and depression.
I guess you could say I misled myself into believing I didn't want children when we wed in 2002. Maybe I did. And now I am regretting some of my decisions. Marriage, family, happiness and no babies.
I honestly could not stand the thought of the responsibility of having a little human being. The stomach with a person inside floating around in fluid. The bubble in the belly, pain, aches and any difficulties that could have happened to a woman of 38. Wow. Anmios. That long needle stuck in your belly button that checks the fluids and health of the baby. All of this happens after 35. And yet, I was throwing it back and forth in my head.
Right around my 38th birthday, which was our 2 yr anni. I felt the need,hunger, desire, and need to make a child in my belly. Meanwhile, John was not on the same page, finding out he never really was. I ached for a child in my belly. I ached for feeling feet, hands, hiccups, shoving and pushing around in my belly. A living being inside of me growing. I didn't even mind the thought of the possibility of those wonderful bathroom issues and vomitting. I really, really hit me hard.
I cried, I didn't care, I cried and tried to figure out what and how to approach John with the new attitude about babies and finally realized the feelings of desiring a child since I'm 18, was still there. As it still is at 43.
We went to yummy dinner at our favorite hole in the wall italian place in Eagle Rock. Oh it was a fav. I miss it often. I'm still rummaging through my brain about what and how to tell my new husband of two years, my new husband who is going to be told he has to inpregnate me or I will be lost forever in a pool of regret. "Will he still love me? Will he leave me? Will he agree or call me nuts?" Oh those thoughts. I was so worried he would laugh and run. He didn't
We ordered, and chatted away with our glasses of bitter house chianti. Feeling giddy about going home and snuggling together. You know, new marriage stuff. NOT that I'm cynical about it, its just something true. I looked at him across the table and just blurted it out. "I want to have a baby and I need to know if you want to have one with me. If not, you can just get me pregnant and I will be on my way." He had the look of seeing a ghost and said I was nuts and wants me to be happy and ok, lets try. Needless to say, nothing came of it and I could not get pregnant. And as much as I hate to say it, if both don't want something it wont happen.
Five years later, we are childless and have lots of pets. Which is great cause I can come and go as I please, do whatever the hell I want right? Life is so carefree. All there is is poop duty, potty training and cuddling animals. "Have to go potty? Go outside now, make poopie doop...good girl, you made poop outside. What a good dog." Oh its exciting indeed. I love them and am blessed with them, but what does is serve to the spirit of desiring parenthood?
Many of my friends tell me to embrace the fact that I have none. Or I should be happy with what I have. "You have a beautiful home, awesome husband and all of those cute animals. I'd take poop pick up over diapers and crying." Ha! I don't think many people realize that a lot of us who regret not having a child and having animals instead hear those statements and sigh with questions. Are these animals truly feeding my maternal instincts? Do I get to see them off to their first day of school? Do I have the blessing of kissing them goodnight after a nice warm bath and homework? Did I, me, myself, I, I, I, get to bond with a little human being from my body and provide them life through nurturing them in my belly? I mean, God gave me a uterus to possibly utilize as a cozy place to carry a child for 9 months, right? And finally, my breasts. My breasts are given as a means to feed said child should I have one. This female body that is designed to carry life and give part of itself to love and care for. The annoying misconception of breasts being a part of the female body to objectify. Thats not such a bad thing, but the reality of what my body, in my opinion is made for.
On to my biggest regret which is becoming childless. I wake in the morning sometimes with a tear in my eye that I am not hearing someone call for me for love and morning kisses. A little guy or girl asking for help putting on her socks. Or even watching and experiencing a major blow out about absolutely nothing that makes any sense. Detention, the flu, awards, saying "I love you Mommy". These things that seem mundane to those who have children or one child do not realize the blessings that are good bad and really ugly, are truly blessings. These things are gifts. GIFTS.
What it all boils down to is realizing how and what brings me down and what brings me up. I am regretting not having a baby as I wanted much younger in life, otherwise I would not be in this funk about it. I also feel that I should have taken a different path from time to time with regards to whom I married. And now being 43 and 56 is just not smart to try again. I would not do that to a person. With medications and age against us, its all that much harder to hit the reality wall from time to time.
I have to honestly say, I DO come to a funk everyday when I walk by one of our spare rooms and jack and jill bathroom. Out in the yard with space for club houses and swings. Room enough for baby to sleep in our room once we would bring baby home. Life seems to not have as much meaning as it should. Life seems empty with nothing to really look forward to. And the hardest and darkest part is knowing all of my life will be for not but shopping and running around town. Its as though I am here, just to be here. And on my darkest days battling depression, hurting for no reason at all, I wonder why I'm here.
SO my next step in life is to try to find some piece of mind with regards to children. Perhaps it will never change and I will be alone in the end. I guess that has to be alright. Well, I know it has to be alright. I do have my awesome nephew, but who knows? My husband is 14 years my senior. SO what does that say to me. I'm a drag tonight. A real downer. For this I am sorry to dump such regret and sadness.
Alright kids, I think I've said my piece of the funk for the day and hopefully it will leave with the clouds and the rain.
Its the rainy days. The rainy days also bring clarity and a clean slate for me. Oh rainy days I love thee.
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