Still Writing For My Life

My anxiety level has been incredibly high over the past several days for quite a few reasons, but I'm doing a pretty good job of not letting it paralyze me.  So, go me.  Some of the reasons are self-inflicted [well, isn't all anxiety pretty much self-inflicted?] like my constant over analyzing of whatever the hell is going on between Philip and I right now.  Most are environmental - stress over money, stress over the wedding I'm participating in, other friends that are presently dealing with life-altering career decisions, friends and close family members dealing with life-altering situations concerning relationships.  Monday was three years since my father died, and I found out that morning that a close friend's father passed away suddenly the day before.
Last Friday afternoon I took a second to scribble some notes in my journal to try to help me sort my thoughts.  I listed the things that are bothering me right now, then listed how I can cope with them in positive ways.  In short,

• Regarding Philip - It is out of my control, therefore I have to stop letting the questions that plague me [What is he doing at this moment?  What's going to happen between us?  Does he still miss me?  Care about me?  Did he cut his ex out of his life yet?  Is he sleeping with other people already?  What if I had done this?  What if I had said that?] consume my mind, because regardless of whatever the answers may be, I have no control over them.  I have to Let It Be.  
• Regarding financial stress - Work is picking back up already and the winter will [hopefully] be over soon.  My paychecks will return to normal.  My bills are paid, and I can't ask for much more than that.
• This wedding thing...ugh.  I'll reserve that rant for a whole separate post.  Let's just say I highly doubt I'll ever agree to be in another one unless it's for a family member or a close friend.  But it'll all work out.

Once I got all of that out of my system, I felt better.  On Saturday I was telling a friend about what I had done, and she texted me Tuesday morning to see how I was doing and inform me that I had inspired her to do the same thing - she wrote down all of of her anxieties, took a figurative step back, and was able to pinpoint the cause of the worst of them, therefore allowing her to focus on making changes so that her quality of life can improve.  It just goes to reiterate the point I am always trying to make - writing is cathartic and good for the soul.

Right now it's a matter of going back and applying the advice I give myself and praying that all will be well in the end.  

Relationships Never Get Easier, They Just Drive You A Little More Crazy

So my best friend of twenty years, Andrea, and I are going though some major relationship bullshit.  You know how I now it's major?  We're not really that young anymore.  Her and I both have run the gauntlet.  (Maybe her a little more than I; she's got a beautiful five year old daughter that I absolutely adore.)  Regardless, we've seen each other through some cruddy times when it comes the end of our relationships with men.
I remember consoling each other after middle and high school breakups, and I sometimes wish we could go back to those simpler times.  In college, life (and relationships) got a little more intense for both of us, and I remember when she broke up with her high school sweetheart.  It was like the end of the world, and I was almost as devastated as she was.  I remember thinking "If they didn't make it, is there hope for any of us?"  How foolish I was.
When I was about 18, the shit hit the fan with the guy I had fallen for, the one I crushed on my entire senior year of high school.  I had a mental breakdown in our friend Dara's parents' kitchen, and Andrea was right there counseling me and doing what best friends do.  Granted, the guy overcame whatever obstacles he had been facing at the time and we ended up together for five years.
Fast forward to our mid-twenties - Andrea was getting married as I was breaking up with the guy I thought I wanted to marry.  She and another close friend of ours were right there by my side as I endured the aftermath of the nastiest breakup of my life.
Fast forward another three years or so and I was floating along, single as hell, her marriage hit the rocks and never recovered.  So there we were, coping with divorce before we were even out of our twenties.  (And when I say "we," I mean it.  Their divorce affected me almost as much as if it had been my own, because that's just how her and I roll.)  So what the fuck?  That's not how it's supposed to work!  I had always admired the faith and the hope that Andrea invested in Love, so to see her in that kind of pain was unbearable, not to mention having to deal with the process of figuring out custody and new living arrangements.  Life was not supposed to take that turn.  My dearest friend was not supposed to have go through something like that.
Not long after the shock of that life changing event had subsided, the relationship I had with Buzzard blew up in my face.  I can't decide if that was more difficult to cope with than when I had broken up with my ex, but it sure as hell sucked.  And who was right there to get me back on my feet?  Andrea.
Fast forward to the present - The morning after Philip broke up with me, I met her and her daughter at breakfast, not taking my sunglasses off because of how swollen my eyes were, weeping the entire time into my napkin.  Just recently I got a text from her - things had come to blows with the guy she was seeing and the relationship has come to a halt, only to be revived if he makes some major changes that should have been taken care of a long time ago.  At thirty years old, Andrea and I are both trying to pick up the pieces of our hearts that have been shattered by the end of yet another relationship.
The bottom line is that love doesn't get easier as we get older.  It just gets harder and harder.  We are doing our best to continue on with our lives, Andrea devoting everything she's got to her daughter and her job, I'm devoting all I've got to my nephew and my writing.  But the pain is still there and we are sharing it as if we were one person.
We have hit the realization that we aren't in middle school anymore.  We are having meaningful relationships that ultimately we want to last forever, but fate keeps throwing wrenches in that plan.  It's not like we have awful taste in men either (well, I used to but have gotten a lot better at judging character.)  It isn't until "shit gets real" that we discover our partners' true colors.  Our concerns about "should I text him or should I not," "the anxiety I'm experiencing is killing me," "what did he mean when he said that," "I'm over analyzing this but I cannot control myself" are not comparable to what goes through a girl's head when she's still a teenager.  Outsiders looking in may think we are crazy, but we know we're not.  We're just going through the shit life throws at us, together.
I thank God for Andrea every day.  She'll send me positive quotes at random and I send her funny ones back.  We make each other laugh, we cry on each other's shoulders, we tell each other everything will work out, everything will be okay.  We remind each other to keep on truckin' on the days we just can't get it together.
Is it fair?  No.  Is it life?  Absolutely.  We may not have quite figured it all out yet, but we can accept that we probably never will.  If we ever do though, watch out because we will take over the world.

When I Hit A Fork In The Road

Is it possible that the things that are lacking in my life are that way simply because I'm not a big enough bitch?  Or because I tend to hesitate to say how I'm really feeling when I really should just let it out?  I just finished reading The Theory Of Opposites by Allison Winn Scotch and it got me thinking - maybe I should take the advice sprinkled throughout this novel and do something with it.  Maybe, I should start taking left turns instead of right ones.  Maybe, instead of staying within my comfort zone, sometimes painstakingly, I should venture outside of it a little more often.
I'm not saying that I'm going to morph myself into a royal bitch that no one will like.  I need to learn to stand up for myself more often.  I tend to keep my mouth shut when something is bothering me or I am being treated unfairly, whether it's at work, in relationships, or even when I know I'm getting screwed over while making some sort of financial transaction.
I've gotten a lot better at it over the last few years - I used to be a complacent doormat, I might as well face it.  Not so much anymore, but there's always room for improvement.
I can only control the present.  To an extent.  Like when I learned last week, from a fellow photographer, that apparently someone at work had an issue with the posing of my subjects and that was the reason I had been put on a few jobs as assistant and not a photographer.  The thing is - I had been doing it my way since August and nothing had been said to me.  I was so upset I nearly launched into a full blown panic attack on the job.  Ordinarily I would let it go and not bother to speak up to person I should have, the person who had the opportunity more than once to address this issue with me as I sat in their office.  But I remembered the book, and I did the opposite - I spoke up.  I called one of the supervisors (the person I needed to talk to directly was out of town,) on my way home that day and told them how upset I was that there were "issues" with my work and I was never informed, that if there was a problem, someone should have addressed it with me so I could rectify it.  I also made it a point to shoot over the two-day job to prove that I am a good photographer, tweaking the things I knew needed improvement anyway.
So yeah, ordinarily, I would have sat back and done nothing until I was approached about the situation.  But if I had done this, who knows when that would have happened.  I had to take action, especially because the integrity of my work was technically in question.  I have yet to hear any backlash, so I don't even know if I did the right thing, aside from the person I had expressed my grievance to informing me that they checked out my past work and didn't see any problems.
It's a tough call sometimes.  I'm one of those people who has a crushing fear of angering someone, whether it be a friend, a lover, a family member or an employer.  I sometimes stumble over my words, even in my head, and fear that saying whatever it is that I need to say will do more harm than good.  Past experience and the environment I grew up in contribute heavily to this.
So it's definitely time to start making the left turns when I hit a fork in the road, because I've become painfully aware that always going right hasn't really been working out for me.      

Just Love Yourself, Dammit - If I Can Do It, So Can You

So of course I take part in social media like everyone else on the planet.  My personal favorite is Twitter, but of course I have Facebook and Tumblr accounts as well.
Since my breakup I've backed off from cruising my various timelines, mostly Facebook, for a couple of reasons.  One is I don't feel like seeing random people's happiness splayed all over the internet - unless it's a dear, dear friend or family member.
The other reason I've backed off is that I have become painfully aware all of these memes and quotes and blog posts, etc, that either pertain to my situation or make me think of him - they cross my line of sight, I read them, and it hurts.  It really, really hurts.  It takes all the willpower I've got to not forward them along to him.
One thing that is getting under my skin lately is all of the "I-may-be-difficult-but-I'm-worth-it" type quotes that are plastered everywhere.  Why?  Because it shouldn't have to be like that, and most of the time, it isn't.  I used to think that of myself, but then I learned it simply isn't true.  I am not a difficult person.  My friends and everyone else that I love, the ex included, are not difficult people.  But it doesn't make them worth my time any less.  Yes, I love them all in spite of their idiosyncrasies and whatnot, but those things do not make them "difficult" or "weird" or "crazy."  It disheartens me to think that we've become the "I-deserve-to-be-loved-even-though" generation.  It should not be that way.  We all deserved to be loved, plain and simple.
Maybe the mindset should be changed to "I-deserve-to-be-loved-BECAUSE-I-am-difficult."  Or better yet, "I-am-NOT-difficult-and-am-STILL-worth-it."
Another thought that saddens me is that the people who truly feel this way, who feel that they are not easy to get along with or have so many internal issues that it makes them hard to accept being loved, have obviously had someone in their past, or even present, that caused them to feel this way.  Why do we do this to each other?

It's heartbreaking to know people think this way.

What if we were to all walk around with healthy amounts of self esteem?  What if we all believed we are worth someone's time and someone's love?  Wouldn't things be a lot different?  I know that I wouldn't want to be with a person who felt so awful about themselves.  The best I could give them would be the love and support of a good friend.  

I have all the reason in the world to think I don't deserve to be loved.  I have all the reason in the world right now to believe that I am difficult, I am strange, I am neurotic and downright unlovable.  But you know what?  I don't believe those things.  Because I believe something that trumps all of those things - 

I am an amazing person.

I am beautiful, inside and out.

I am lovable.

I am downright fantastic and fuck you if you can't see that.

Same Advice, Different Perspective

Last week I had to give an exit interview, something I was completely unprepared for but one of my supervisors was kind enough to give me the rundown beforehand.  I was asked to give three positive points of my experience with this company and three negative ones.  I was asked if my "new" job is one I sought out or if it came to me, about how my supervisors handled the department, etc, etc.
It was a piece of cake for the most part, I mean, the reason I'm leaving has nothing to do with the company - it's a personal decision.  I thought what my career life needed was 40 hour weeks, HR departments, repetition, but I was wrong.  I thought I could handle not going into work until 12:30 and getting home anywhere between 9 and 10 at night.  I was wrong.  I thought I wouldn't miss being behind the camera, but I was wrong.
I explained all of this to Pat, the woman who conducted the interview and we ended up spending more time talking about photography and art than we did discussing technicalities.  She told me stories of her sister's husband's father who made his living with a photography business.  Her cousin was an Allstate insurance agent for 30 years before selling his business and pursuing his true passion, which was oil painting.  She said he would go through phases where he'd go to work, go home, paint all night, and do it all over again, day after day.  Then he sold his business and moved to Florida, then wound up in New York City, and is still exploring his artistic passion.
Then she told me about a friend of her's that lived in Ohio.  When it came time for her son to have his senior portraits done, she tracked down a photographer who could give them something different (very common in the Midwest - hiring a different photographer other than the one the school uses to get more out of the experience.)  One day not long after her son had his portraits done, the woman dropped dead from some sort of aneurysm.  Pat looked at me and said, "I said all of that to say this, something my mother told me time and again - you never know when it will all be over. You have to live in the moment, because before you know it, it could all come to an end."
I said, "That's exactly what my own mother tells me.  I have the hardest time with it, and am working hard at not over-thinking the past or the future, but concentrating on the present.  I have all the reason in the world to, especially when I think of what my own family has gone through."
"You're doing just that by going back to your passion."
I could have cried.

My Journey Back To Faith, Part 2

My mother has a daily devotional book, Jesus Calling, that sits on the kitchen table.  I've taken to picking it up in the morning, especially when I'm feeling lousy, and whatever the devotion happens to be for that particular day never fails to be totally relevant to how I'm feeling.  Never fails.
Monday I spent all day at work in front of the computer processing pill counts and suspensions for dispensing.  It's good because it doesn't require heavy lifting, but it gets a little repetitive, so I had a lot of time to think.  My mind would wander back to whether or not I had made the right career move.  Doubt and worry about my future set in.  So yesterday morning I picked up the devotional and the words leaped off the page and damn near smacked me in the face.

June 18
YOU ARE MY BELOVED CHILD.  I chose you to be the foundation of the world, to walk with Me along the paths designed specifically for you.  Concentrate on keeping in step with Me, instead of trying to anticipate My plans for you.  If you trust that My plans are to prosper you and not to harm you, you can relax and enjoy the present moment. 
Your hope and your future are rooted in heaven, where eternal ecstasy awaits you.  Nothing can rob you of your inheritance of unimaginable riches and well-being.  Sometimes I grant you glimpses of your glorious future, to encourage you and spur you on.  But your main focus should be staying close to Me.  I set the pace in keeping with your needs and My purposes.

Boom!  There it was, exactly what I needed to hear, because my struggle right now is focusing too much time and energy on things I cannot control and therefore I have a very hard time relaxing and enjoying the present moment.
I'm not ashamed that I've chosen to rekindle my relationship with God.  It has made a huge difference in my life.  Where there was once nothing but darkness I now see light.  I'm slowly starting to feel peace come back into my life.  I'm learning that the struggles I experience in my head can and will be overcome.  I'm learning to accept that life isn't and never will be perfect or what I expect it to be, and to be thankful for the blessings I do have.

To be continued...

My Journey Back To Faith

I took the day off last Wednesday because the pain in my chest was pretty unbearable and I needed a mental health break as well.
I started experiencing severe chest pains at work last Friday and ended up in my doctor's office.  All of the tests they ran showed that it wasn't my heart, thank God.  (They were able to see me immediately and wanted to prevent an emergency room trip if at all possible and I'm glad they did because that wouldn't have been necessary.)  Turns out I have costochondritis, and all I can do is manage the pain until it goes away on its own, plus make sure I take it easy so as not to aggravate it or slow down the healing process.  Very frustrating for someone whose job entails plenty of heavy lifting and someone who also goes to the gym frequently.  But again, I'm so thankful that my heart is just fine.
So I took it easy last Wednesday and decided to read most of the day.  I haven't had the luxury to sit down with a book, uninterrupted, for a long time.  Before I picked one up, settling on How To Save Your Own Life by Erica Jong, one I've already read but in a previous life, I sat down and started making a list of things I need to remind myself of on a daily basis.
Like,
-  I can't stress about tomorrow because it's out of my control.
-  I can't stress over money because I have a full time job and my bills are getting paid.
-  I can't worry about the things I have no control over.
-  I must choose to enjoy the present.  Not dwell in the past or mull over the future.
-  I am thankful for all I do have and won't concern myself with what I don't have.
Sometimes I get so down on myself, so immersed in my own head, that I end up feeling like a lousy human being.  I forget how far I've come this past year.  I dwell on the negatives, like I've said before, instead of focusing on the positives.  And sometimes I even take the positives and spin them into negatives.  It's a vicious cycle that I am trying desperately to put an end to.

To be continued...

My Continuing Pursuit of Happiness

As most of you know, I've been diligently spending the last year making positive changes in my life in order to be ready to take over the world mentally and physically when I turn 30.  I'm proud of my progress and dedication, and things are finally falling into place.  Why am I so proud?  Because I've never really taken the initiative to buckle down and make serious changes in my life.  I've always just let things run their course without making my own difference.  "Either you're a part of the problem or you're a part of the solution."  Well, this time I've decided to be a part of the solution and do everything in my power to change the things about myself and my life that I don't like.  This chapter has begun with a  new relationship, new mind, new job, and new body.  Let's do a quick recap of the chain reaction of events that have brought to where I am right now.

It truly all started the day I walked out of Buzzard's life and simultaneously banished him from mine last April.  That was one of the first steps I took to get my head clear.  I couldn't do it with a buzzard circling above me, waiting to prey on my fragile heart and soul, and now it's gone.  I stood by my guns and kept him at arms' length.  Today when I get a text from concerning anything other than a "Hey, how are you?" I don't even bother to respond.  I can honestly say I am finally free from the grasp of his talons.  Standing firm in my decision to not let him get to me anymore has opened my heart to accept love I know I deserve.  The other night Philip said the words I've been waiting to hear - "You've been the only one for a while now, and I'd like to keep it that way."  Well, damn, baby, so would I!  We are now exclusive and to quote 311 - my heart sings when I think of him.  I get a big goofy smile on my face when I think about being all his and he being all mine.  We are good for and good to each other.  I could go on but I won't bore you all with details.  Well, maybe in another post later.

I consciously made the decision to keep my outlook on life positive.  Sure, some days I still get down and the urge to stay in bed is strong, but I overcome it.  I realized, after years of suffering from anxiety and depression that my life is what I make of it and what I do with it.  Struggles still plague me every once in a while, but how I decide to handle them is more powerful than the effect they have on me.

My last job was making me miserable, so I buckled down, persevered, and now I have a great new job with a set schedule, benefits, and a 401K.  It's a job that challenges me in ways I have dearly missed, with a company I can see a future with.  The impact this positive change has had on me is incredible.  After the first week, Philip could already tell that my demeanor was happier and not as stressed out like he was used to.

I've made it a point to continue to get into better shape and eat healthier.  My body has changed drastically over the last four years and I want to keep it up - for myself and no one else.  I've been a dedicated member of a gym since last November and I make it a point to go, at the very least, three times a week.  I've been weight training and running between four and six miles on the elliptical and just recently started noticing the benefits - my arms and legs (and even my belly!)  are toning up and I'm not winded when I run up three flights of stairs.

Since I managed to get an exercise routine down, I took it to the next level and started counting calories.  I realized that was the only way I was going to learn to eat better and shed this belly of mine that makes me self conscious.  Let me tell you, it is not easy.  But it's easier than balancing a budget for sure.  I started using the LoseIt! app on my cell phone, logging everything I eat and any exercise I do each day.  The main benefit of this app is getting a visual of how good (or bad) the food and beverages I consume are for me.  I'm sticking to a 1400 calorie per day budget in order to drop 20 pounds by mid June.  Extreme?  A little.  But I have the mentality that I can do it.  Am I denying myself little pleasures like beer and chocolate?  Hell no.  I weighed myself yesterday and have lost 4 pounds since March 29th.

So this is where I am in my life right now and I wanted to share it with you.  After enduring nothing but pain and darkness for so long, I am closer to the light at the end of the tunnel than ever before.  I know my father is beaming down from Heaven with pride.  

It's March Already?

We are about 3 and a half months into 2013 and what a year it's been already.  I'm feeling the need to do a quick recap so let's run down the list.

• I have embarked on a new career.
  Monday I started my new job.  So far so good.  I'm catching on quickly and the boss said I did an excellent job my first day and it proved he made a good decision when he hired me.  (Yes, I "squee'd" inside when he told me that.)  You all know I had been incredibly frustrated with my career as a photographer and needed a change, and it's finally beginning.  (See Perseverance Pays Off - 2/19/13.) 
• I went skiing for the first time in almost 15 years.
  Philip and his friends took me to the Poconos on February 24th and it was the perfect way to pay  tribute to my father.  He and my mother taught my brother and I to ski when we were little and it was a passion we shared as a family.
• Two years have gone by since my father passed away.
  I can't believe it's been this long.  Like my mother said, time does not heal, it just forces us to adapt, and we are still adapting to life without Pop around.
• We had the 2nd annual Mid Winter Classic in Ocean City, NJ.
  Last year my brother and sister in law started a new tradition, weekend-ing in Ocean City during the month of February because, well, there's not much to do between Christmas and Memorial Day.  It started out as a sort of reunion for the bridal party from their wedding and has evolved (or de-volved,) to include other friends and family members.  We average about 14 people crammed into my sister in law's parents' beach house - Friday night staying in drinking and playing games; Saturday night we venture into Atlantic City for a night of dancing and/or gambling.  Philip came with me this year and let's just say a great time was had by all.
• I had the opportunity to be a part of the 311 Caribbean Cruise 2013.
  I barely have the words to describe the sheer awesome-ness of this experience still, and I've been back from Miami since last week.  I will detail this adventure in a post all its own.
• My relationship with Philip has been tested and I'm pretty sure we passed with flying colors.
  We are still moving along, doing our thing with no real definition.  I was planning on laying it on the line for him when I got back from the cruise, but a big part of me is hesitant to mess with a good thing.  Not being too concerned about it is a big thing for me, it is what it is and I can say with confidence that we both know where it's headed, and I'm content.

So yeah.  That's about it right now.  I have to go get ready to leave for work at my new big girl job.

Most Of Us Really Are Living On the Edge

I'm living in a world where every one gets a trophy just for showing up.
I never got a trophy when I played baseball because I wasn't good at it, and that was okay with me.  I got my trophies singing my heart out all throughout my school career, from dedicating much of my time to practicing, rehearsing and performing.  When I got a varsity letter my freshman year for being on the swim team, I felt it was entirely undeserved, but the swim team is considered all around varsity.  
We spend an absurd amount of money on fancy, gourmet birthday cakes for babies while teaching them it's okay to verbally assault people over the internet.
Seriously, what are they going to think when they find out one day that daddy consistently called mommy a whore or that mommy trashed daddy for not paying child support?
Because, let's face it, we're living in a world where having a baby is not a big deal anymore.  The next generation might as well be called the "Oops Generation."
Which is one of the main reasons I make it a point to take my birth control and practice safe sex.  And when it comes down to it, I don't sleep with people I wouldn't at least consider having a child with.
I'm living in a world where, if asked whether or not I believe in God and all I say is yes, my response is immediately taken as a threat and I'm bashed for even having faith.
On the flip side, I'm living in a world where evangelists and right wing maniacs have distorted faith and religion so much that they now carry a nasty stain.
In my world, I go to work every day.  I pay my car insurance.  I pay my health insurance.  I make about $100 too much to qualify for government assistance.  But I still work, and I still pay my bills, with little or no money left over to put into my savings.
It must be nice to sit on your ass all day and know the government will take care of you.  I bought my iPhone with money from the same checking account I pay my bills out of.  You know, the one my paycheck is deposited into.
I'm living in a world where Nicki Minaj and Justin Bieber are considered "talent."
Enough said.  Where's the noose?
We are living in a world where young people demand respect from their elders without giving it first.
Remember the phrase "You have to earn respect before receiving it?"  Yeah, that's been lost in translation.

I'm tired of seeing the same status updates on Facebook, down to the most unimportant detail of someone's day.
I don't care what side of the bed you woke up on.  Unless it was in the middle of street in downtown Wilmington and you seemed to have lost your pants, I'm not interested.

I don't care what you're making for every meal of every day, either.
We are living in a world where shit like that has become the basis for our entertainment.
I'm stuck in this world where fact-checking has gone down the drain and people immediately believe what they see or read without looking into it first.
In today's world making the commute to work is enough to drive one insane.  We seem to have forgotten common courtesy and the fact that we will all get to our destination one way or the other.  You're not going to be late if you let even just one car merge in front of you.
We are all racing to the red light.
I'm living in a world where if I were to play Warren Zevon's Werewolves of London, it would be mistaken for that Kid Rock song.
I'm shaking my head.
In my world, asking someone to sit up straight is like asking them to shove bamboo shoots  under their fingernails.
Doesn't your back hurt from being slumped over all day?  Oh, and by the way, close your mouth.  You look like you're missing a chromosome.
I'm living in a world where it is expensive to eat healthy and cheap to just not care anymore.
I've been over this before.
I'm living in a world where the word judgmental has become a common adjective to describe someone's character.
Maybe if we stopped and put ourselves in someone else's shoes for a second, we'd think twice.  Maybe if we got to know our neighbors the world would be a nicer place.  Maybe if we weren't so quick to shove our beliefs down someone else's throat they would be willingly to listen to what we have to say.
We are living in a world where children are abducted and found murdered over car parts, or they are abused by someone they trust at a day camp.  You can't send your kids to school, vacation bible school, or sports camp without worrying whether or not they will be returned to you mentally intact or intact at all.
What is provoking this sickness that is rearing its ugly head in our society?  We are destroying our children, one by one, leaving them to grow up jaded and desensitized with no faith in humanity at all.
I am living in a world where evil is overshadowing good.  Drug cartels have taken over Mexico and leaving severed heads in front of elementary schools as a threat to teachers if half of their wages are not paid to cartels.
Excuse me, but what the fuck.  That makes the shit hole schools in run down neighborhoods I sometimes work in look like first class private academies.
The bottom line is that we're living on the edge.  Everyone is on the edge.  I feel it too.  Some days I want to flip out on the person in front of me in line at the store because they're paying for their goods with $20 in change.  But I don't.  Because I don't know what their situation is.  Maybe they scrounged up all they had left to buy a gallon of milk for their kids.
It's easier to be a dick than to be nice.  It's easier to keep walking instead of hold the door open for the person behind you struggling with an armload of stuff.  It's easier to cut the old person off to pull into the parking spot they were waiting for.  It's easier to discriminate rather than open our minds to something we're not familiar with.  We're all guilty of it; it's how we handle it.  Let's face it - we're living on the edge, but Steven Tyler says it better than I can.

Did Dewey Beach Save My Sanity?

Out of the past six nights, only one has been spent in my own bed.  It was a whirlwind of a week and I'm exhausted.

I took off for the beach Monday evening on a whim and ended up staying until Wednesday.  I met up with a girl I've been corresponding with via Twitter and other various blog sites.  She is one awesome, lovely woman and we had a great time.  I was honored to show her the ins and outs of Dewey Beach, complete with Devils and Grapefruit Crushes.

While I was down there, a few significant things happened that I never expected.

The first was that I realized my bank account had been overdrawn, twice.  I'm broke.  Again.  I was in a bad place about two years ago and I swore to myself it would never happen, but alas, due to my confusion about the changes the PA Department of Unemployment Compensation has made, my claim was all fucked up this summer.  (I claim unemployment during the summer months because, well, I don't work as much as I do fall, winter, and spring.)  When things like this happen, it messes with my head, bad.  I'm still trying to figure out what I'm going to do.

On Tuesday my aunt and I were sitting on the beach when I notice a man & his daughter stop not too far from our beach chairs, drop their towels & boogie boards then take off for the ocean.  This man was the Dave Grohl.  I didn't believe my eyes at first, but once I heard him speak, I knew it was definitely him.  I had the opportunity to shake the man's hand and thank him for all that he has done for rock & roll, and he couldn't have been nicer.

Wednesday I was sitting on the beach again, this time with my uncle, reading Traveling With Pomegranates.  As I sat there observing the goings-on around me, reading, smoking cigarettes, watching the ocean and bracing myself against the chilly breeze, it dawned on me - I want to be a writer.  I want to write alongside my photography.  How to go about it is another story, (I mean, yes, this blog is a start,) but I since I made the acclamation to myself, I now know I want to make it a reality.
Once the clouds became ominous and the lifeguards starting calling people out of the water, we packed it up and headed back to the beach house.  When the rain started I decided I might as well make the trek home, so I drove through the storm back to Wilmington, tears spilling out of my eyes here and there wondering what the hell I'm going to do about my bills, worrying whether or not I had enough gas in the car to get me home and if my cell phone would be shut off any time soon.
That night was the only one spent in my own bed, and the stories from the second half of my week are pending my next post.  Stay tuned.


     

Two Years Later... (From June 26, 2012)

My depression got worse before it finally got better.
I've lost touch with the D/s world and am okay with that.
Still a rock & roll junkie.
Still a bit trashy, but I've learned there's a time and place for it.
  Like heavy metal music festivals.
Still a broke bitch but my finances are now in much better shape, so instead of broke let's call it "frugal."
I'm not over Buzzard yet, I wasn't when I wrote it two years ago, but I have moved on and will not let myself look back.  I can't ever let him back into my life this time around.  Ever.  
I've lost even more weight.
And there's more gray hair throughout this mane of mine.
I no longer need contacts or glasses to see.
Cultivated more new friendships and let go of ones that faded away without remorse, animosity, or regret.
Still have the same job, going on year seven.
My nephew has taken to calling me Na-Na.
The car is paid off.
I have health insurance.
Nine tattoos instead of eight.
The revolving door my bed used to be is no longer in service.
  Aka - I'm learning to respect and love myself.
Still in tune with my sexuality but I yearn for something with substance.
I've been to Las Vegas for 3-11 Day and had the time of my life.
My mother and I are as close as ever.
Same goes for my brother and I.
I am fatherless now; mine has gone on to Heaven.
Attempting to grasp the fact that life is about the right-here-right-now, not the what-ifs, would-ofs, or should-ofs, or even the what-wills of the future.  It's about right now.

24 Things I Am Now (From June 23, 2010)

I wrote this in an attempt to figure out where my life was and where I wanted it to go.  I know there's a list from 2009 laying around somewhere but as of right now I cannot find it.  The notes in italics are from my point of view at the present time.

Utterly and hopelessly depressed, worse than ever before. 

  Little did I know it would get so much worse.

More dominant than submissive.  

Rock & Roll junkie.

Still trashy.

Still a broke bitch.

Still slutty.

Eight tattoos.

The aunt of a beautiful baby boy.

  Nico was born on October 27th, 2009.

Over Buzzard.

  Haha, I was delusional.  I was in no way, shape, or form over this man.

Over the other one whose name began with a B.

  The love I had for this one turned into a good friendship.

Having an affair with a co-worker.

  Not so much an affair as just simple fun.  He's still a good friend.

Perfectly lonely.

More mindfuck-er than fuck-ee.

  This is up for debate.

A few pounds lighter.

Noticing more gray hair around my temples.

Mourning the death of more than one friendship.

Back to working for the same boss who hired me out of college.

Closer to my Mama.

Not afraid to jump on a plane, train, or into an automobile.

Feeling like I'm back at square one.

Suffering from a creativity block.

Uninsured.

Attempting to clean up the mess I've made of my life.

More Updates

• My Mama will never have to give up her home.  The black cloud that hung over this 4 bedroom colonial that she has made her home with her blood, sweat and tears, (a bit of mine as well,) is gone.

• Mine and Buzzard's relationship has reached some form of normalcy, if one can call it that.  He's been very supportive these past few months, letting me vent and cry to him about my Pop.  I've gotten over my disgust for the way things were going between us; it's almost like we've come to a truce.  I can text him in the middle of the night when I'm lying on the floor in tears, and I can text him at 9 in the morning if I'm horny and need cigarettes.  I still can't let myself fall like I did all those years ago, but right now, he's all I've got.  

• Drugstore Cowboy broke my fucking heart.  I think the worst part was the disappointment that came with it.  I put him on too high of a pedestal with expectations that he failed miserably to meet.  I fell under the spell of his cock and became addicted to the whatever drug it was that emanated from his skin.  I came to believe he was more of a man than he ended up being in the end.  It's his loss, right?  But fuck am I going to miss the late night rendezvous with him in my bed, his bed, someone else's bed, the swimming pool...fuck.

• My nephew is growing up so fast!  He's walking, forming words, and is an eating machine.  He has been the light of our lives, especially since losing Pop.

• Maybe I'm maturing, maybe I'm not, but the one night stands have considerably come to a halt, and I've even unconsciously cut off a few of the stand-bys, friends-with-benefits if you will.  I don't know why, maybe it's because I've become lazy, and if you can't be at my house within 20 minutes and vice versa, it's not worth it to me anymore.

So that's where I'm at right now.  Am I lonely?  Yes.  Am I in mourning?  Yes.  Am I learning new things about myself with every passing day?  Yes.  But look, here comes the sun, little darling...

Things That Piss Me Off

It seems everyone thinks that 311 wrote Love Song. No. Look it up.

Pasta "Fazool" is actually spelled Pasta "Fagioli" (or something like that.)

People make fun of me because I do not pronounce the 'a' at the end of the word "mozzarella." Or the 'o' at the end of the word "proscuitto."

The same fucking quote comes up every time I search Erica Jong. She has said infinitely more poignant things than "You want me to tell you something really subversive..." Of course, I'm too lazy to go back through my collection of her work to post the excerpts that smacked me in the face when I read them, so I guess I shouldn't bitch too much.

Nicki Minaj.

I've lost touch with the BDSM scene so bad that the thought of subbing to someone again makes me go "Ugh." Sometimes I think it's degrading, but then again I have no right to judge. Hell, I used to be the one tied up, the fuck toy, the dirty little cum slut. And given the right circumstances, I'd probably jump right back in.

I will be watching a man accused of rape have the privilege of playing quarterback in the Superbowl later today.

When a certain member of our circle of friends can't even commit to joining us all for dinner. There's no need to be such a pain in the ass about it.

The Baby Boom Is Getting Old

I'm writing this as little feet are pitter-pattering around the kitchen.  And hearing the occasional grunt of frustration as my nephew tries to peel magnets off of the refrigerator and stick them to the sliding glass door to the sunroom.

If you have any clue, you know that I absolutely adore my nephew.  When I'm having a bad day, all I have to do is think about his pudgy little smile and when he reaches for my hand to walk me into another room to show me something.

But when my brother or my sister-in-law picks him up, and either my ma or myself are cleaning up the tornado streak he leaves behind, I realize how not ready I am to have children.  I was watching him nap on the couch this morning, (seriously, passed out in his tracks from playing too hard, all sprawled out and everything,) and I started thinking, How do people do it?  I can barely take care of myself, how will I ever be able to raise a child?  My mind started running through all kinds of scenarios...for instance, it snowed a pretty decent amount here last night.  Now, if I had a baby, and I had to shovel myself out, how would I do it?  I can't leave a baby alone in the house, but the driveway has got to be shoveled.  Because, as I've learned in the past, you can't depend on anyone but yourself. 

Sure, ideally I'd have Baby's Daddy to take care of all of that manual labor kind of shit, but let's face it, with my track record, that ain't gonna happen.  Ideally I'd wake up, the driveway would be shoveled, my car would be cleaned off and there'd be rock salt put down so I don't slip, fall, and bust my face on the concrete.

I wish my biological clock would shut the fuck up.

Merry Christmas! Where's the Tylenol?!

Cody, Me holding Bennett, Lauren, (Bennett's mommy,) and Caleigh

Christmas was wonderful this year.  For my family it is not a matter of seeing how many presents we can give or receive, it's a matter of all of us being together.



Ashley, Hamilton, Ma, Nicholas and I



The rundown of Dane's Family Christmas:

First off is Christmas Eve is dinner at MomMom B's with my father's side of the family, usually around 3.  Then around 6:30 my Mom's family starts to come over to our house, where we proceed to eat, drink, open presents, take pictures in front of the tree, maybe rearrange the neighbors' reindeer into compromising positions.  Everyone is usually gone by 11:00 and Ma and I are snuggled in our beds waiting for Santa.



Ma and Aunt Mare drinking the Boone's

Christmas morning my brother and his wife bring the baby over, my Pop comes over and we all have coffee and various Christmas treats and exchange gifts.
Dinner is at my Mom's sister's house at 4:00, and we are all together again, eating and drinking and being merry, usually dancing in the kitchen as well.


Nicholas playing with his new toy



It blows my mind how much things have changed over the years, though.

When I was little we had the Feast of Seven Fishes on Christmas Eve at my mom's parents' and we would all exchange gifts that night.  Christmas day my mom had my brother and I dressed in our holiday finest and we were at my father's parents' for a turkey dinner at 1:00, and then onto to her parents' again, for wedding soup and lasagna at 4:00.  We never knew who would be joining us either, from my MomMom's relatives that live in Daisytown, to her brothers and sisters and their families, to my PopPop's brothers and their families that lived down the street and various cousins that would drop by.


MomMom and PopPop lived in a tiny end-unit row home with no off street parking.  A tiny little kitchen and dining room, and we'd cram in there like sardines, happier than pigs in shit.  The running joke for years was how my brother and I would show up sulking because we had already gotten our toys from Santa taken away since we fought like cats and dogs.  It's even on video.

Now things are wholly different, but it's okay, because we are all still together during the holidays.  We still pass around a bottle of Boone's Farm wrapped in a paper bag while opening gifts with Ma's family.  We don't do the Seven Fishes or have lasagna anymore, but when my aunt says that MomMom is rolling over in her grave my Ma points out that she's happy to know that we are all together.

Caleigh, Cody and I

The family exchanging gifts, from left - Tina, Paul, Lauren, Cody, Bennett, Steve, Caleigh



Talk About A Wake Up Call

Define irony.

Right after this post was published, someone very close to me, someone who I choose to not share my sexual exploits with, discovered way too much for her own good.

My beloved Mama read a few pages of my journal.
Yes, I keep an actual journal.  That I write in with an actual pen.  That has actual pages.  I have since my senior year of high school and it's the only form of therapy I can afford right now.
She confronted me the other morning, one of the mornings I had happened to stumble through the front door around 5 am, after engaging in yet another night of risky behavior.
At first I was angry.  Very, very angry.  My mother has never, ever, been a snoop.  But honestly?  I can't blame her.  It's one of the downsides to still living at home.  She's there when I leave at night and if I end up not coming home, she deserves a phone call.

Let me run down the list of things I'm okay with my mother knowing:

• I drink alot.
• I dated guys 10+ years older than me.
• The man I was with for five years and I were, in fact, having sex (she's not stupid.)
• That occasionally I do sleep with a guy that I'm into

And a list of things I am not okay with her knowing:

• It's usually different guys (too late.)
• I was involved in the BDSM scene for a while.
• I drink alot more than I let on.
• I am, in fact, in someone else's bed, naked, when I don't come home (too late.)

She said to me that she knows I don't tell her everything in order to protect her.  But I cannot imagine the heartbreak she was going through sitting on my bed reading those pages, thinking that her daughter does not respect herself or her body in the least.  To see my mother, who does not cry, break down in tears right in front of me, was a knife in my heart.  The fact that she came over to me, put her arms around me, and said, through her tears, that she cannot fathom what it must be like to not have a father to look up to or lean on, twisted that knife hard.

Maybe I do need to do some soul searching.  Clean up my act, per se.  Maybe I need to realize that I can't fucking do it on my own.  And that my addictive personality will catch up with me one day.

I'll Be There For You...Not

Every day I get more and more fed up.  People and their bullshit antics are tiring me out.  No one holds any amount of dependability, especially those I call my "friends."  It's a very rude awakening to turn around and realize you are completely alone. 
No, I'm not being a drama queen.  My best friend of 16 years?  Can't remember the last time we talked.  Same goes for the girls in high school I stayed tight with up until about 2 years ago.  Growing apart because of marriages and babies and careers is understandable.  A friend you know you can call even if you haven't spoken in months and not skip a beat is a rare gem.  I'm down to one of those kinds of friends.  And she lives two and half hours away now.
When you get to the point where you would feel uncomfortable picking up the phone to call the person who used to be there for you through thick & thin and vice versa, then you know the friendship has just about gone down the shitter.  If it is salvagable, it's going to take alot of work.
It's so much easier to walk away from a friend in need than to be there for them when their world has come crashing down I guess?  Because that's what all of mine did.  Sure, my girls were there for me when MomMom got sick, when I ripped my Ex's heart out of his chest and smashed it on the floor, and then when I had the same thing done to me.  But when it all boils down, when the demons start waking up in my own head, I'm on my own.
I'm getting used to it.  But it fucking sucks.  I'm now deathly afraid to get close to anyone because I believe they will eventually desert me.  (It is kind of strange - I'm not a needy girlfriend per se, but I am an incredibly needy friend.) Sure, A & T call me their "road dawg," but I'm terrified of having them abandon me.  I had to explain this to T after he started lecturing me when I would wig out about A not calling me every day anymore because he's seeing someone now.
You don't understand, you guys are all I've got.  You take care of me, you look out for me, you help me to forget all that is fucked up and the crumpled mess my life is in when we're all together.

If you tell me I can depend on you, I am going to take you up on that so you better mean it.  Because I will return the favor tenfold.  Lately though, I can't say I'm much better.  Why invest in relationships when everyone else around you takes the easy way out and walks away when the shit hits the fan?

It's turned me into a cold, cynical bitch that no one is allowed to get close to.

Then the Neighbors Would Start to Trickle Over

When I hear the beginning guitar strains of Rocky Raccoon, I'm transported back to when I was very young, and all was well and good within my family.  At least that's what it looked like to outsiders. 

My father had been in a band called New Beginnings from before I was born until I was about 10.  He was very close with the guys, my mother was close with all of their wives, and my brother and I grew up tagging along with my dad to band practice and playing, (read:  getting in trouble,) with the children of various band members.  Every summer we'd have a "New Beginnings" cook-out, even long after they stopped playing as a band.  They were all very talented musicians, and after the food had been put away, the sun would start to go down, out would come the instruments and the jam session would begin.  An acoustic guitar or two, one snare drum, an acoustic bass, no mics, a tambourine, and Danny's trumpet (they could cover Chicago tunes like it was no one's business.)

When I learned that the Beatles' music had been released to purchase on iTunes, this was the first song I added to my cart.  (Yes, every album they ever made is upstairs, boxed up in the closet of the spare bedroom, but I don't know where the record player is and I don't have the energy to convert vinyl to digital.) 

I hear the opening notes and Paul McCartney's storyteller voice start - "Well somewhere in the Black Mine hilltop of South Dakota there lived a young boy named Rocky Raccoon..."


I immediately picture my father sitting on the back deck, plucking at his guitar, surrounded by old band buddies and all of our families. I was too young to ever pay attention to the words or grasp the irony of the story being told within the song. But I would sing along nonetheless.

"But Daniel was hot, and he drew first and shot..."

I picture him, not the adulterer, not the alcoholic, but my daddy, the man who still calls me Angel, the man who would take my brother and I on Saturday morning errands in his little red truck, blasting Styx or Boston while doing his over-exaggerated version of air-drumming on the steering wheel, doing his best McCartney impression, forgetting the words, (no pun intended, really,) chuckling his way through the song, because I swear Doc, it's only a scratch.

I hold onto this song and the memories I've attached to it so tight.  It's the only thing I've got left.

"Gideon checked out, and he left him no doubt, to help with good Rocky's revival..."