I keep trying to decide where I want to go with this blog. Trying to see if I can use it but be "anonymous" so I can dig a little deeper. Sometimes I write things in my own personal journal that I am sure others would benefit from. Or at least benefit in the fact that, you are not alone.
I know we hear that over and over, but no matter how many people try and tell us these words, they are in the end, just words. Things will get worse before they get better. And then when they just get worse they tell us, it could be worse. You could be [insert situation here which seems worse than yours]. But in all honesty, they don't know.
They don't know how you are feeling at the moment. How broken inside you are and how the world is falling apart around you because, you may have just stubbed your toe on... and you could have been barefoot. No, this is not the whole reason you are crumpled on the floor in tears. And when you hit a knot in your tangled hair that you just can't get out? That's not the reason why you're sitting there thinking the world would be a better place without you.
They are just openings to break. Things build up through out the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months... Even years. And then, you drop a fork while you are trying to put dishes away...
Your life is over. You may as well end it right there because you are not good enough, you are worthless. You can't even put a fucking fork away correctly. Friends and family? What good are you...
Harsh, I know, but this is what it is all about. The tears, the screaming, the holes in your bathroom wall... Tearing out your hair because you dropped a fork.
Well I am here to tell you the truth. There are people out there that go through this every day, just like you... But in no way do they know and feel exactly how you feel... You are alone in your own mind.
Everyone handles things differently and what we have to do is reach out to these other people and learn from their coping skills. What do they do? What number do they count to? What mantra do they have? What ritual? And who do they call if anyone...
If you are like me, you won't call. No matter how many times people tell you to call. You won't. You don't want to be a bother and you know they have more important things to do other than offer you sympathy. Sympathy over what? That fork? How do you explain that to someone...
You can't.
You just have to hope you get through the night and put your car back in drive and make your way over the bridge you've been sitting at the bottom at for the last 15-20 minutes and try again tomorrow.
I'm here to tell you that it's just one more day to get through.
That's all you have.
One more day.
8.12.2016
10.16.2014
What Do We Work For?
It's those moments that you sit at work surfing the internet (against the rules) when you start wondering, how the FUCK did I get here? Is this really what I want to do? Or is this just another wave I have to take onto the shore of the island of happiness...
I love working with the animals. I love interacting with clients... But I never wanted this before. I wasn't that little girl running around with a fake stethoscope saying "I want to be a veterinarian and save the lives of animals!!!" I don't think I ever really had that moment of, "I want to be a..." Life just always went where it went. I was built and groomed to work as a kid. Mom was an entertainer (and before you think stripper... She was on a kid's TV show). My Dad was a hard working/mechanic/farm hand/roof fixing/welder/all-around guy. He did everything. Any time either of them were offered a job, no matter what it was, they took it. Well... If I didn't get either of their good looks, I sure got their work ethic.
Which is probably why I failed in school. I mean I made it out with maybe a 2.3 or 2.6 GPA and a B.A. in Psychology which means absolutely nothing. But I did graduate. That's what matters right? Why do I still feel like I haven't completed a single thing. Made an ounce of difference in my life or for anyone else? It's like I'm completely stuck in limbo all the time.
The one thing this job has taught me though is that work is not lifestyle. Or at least a healthy one. I wish I figured this out a long time ago... For once I really don't want to put work in front of anything else. I'm done dropping every opportunity to live to get a couple more hours on the paycheck. What's the point in working so hard that you can't enjoy exactly what you're working for. I want to enjoy my dog, and on top of it all... I want to enjoy my horse. That is why I work. I work to eat, I work to clothe myself, I work to put gas in my car... But it shouldn't be to put gas in my car to go to work. It should be to put gas in my car to live my life and enjoy it.
If I don't take anything else from this job other than trying to deal with people who are on a continuous power trip, it's that I need to enjoy my life.
End Rant.
I love working with the animals. I love interacting with clients... But I never wanted this before. I wasn't that little girl running around with a fake stethoscope saying "I want to be a veterinarian and save the lives of animals!!!" I don't think I ever really had that moment of, "I want to be a..." Life just always went where it went. I was built and groomed to work as a kid. Mom was an entertainer (and before you think stripper... She was on a kid's TV show). My Dad was a hard working/mechanic/farm hand/roof fixing/welder/all-around guy. He did everything. Any time either of them were offered a job, no matter what it was, they took it. Well... If I didn't get either of their good looks, I sure got their work ethic.
Which is probably why I failed in school. I mean I made it out with maybe a 2.3 or 2.6 GPA and a B.A. in Psychology which means absolutely nothing. But I did graduate. That's what matters right? Why do I still feel like I haven't completed a single thing. Made an ounce of difference in my life or for anyone else? It's like I'm completely stuck in limbo all the time.
The one thing this job has taught me though is that work is not lifestyle. Or at least a healthy one. I wish I figured this out a long time ago... For once I really don't want to put work in front of anything else. I'm done dropping every opportunity to live to get a couple more hours on the paycheck. What's the point in working so hard that you can't enjoy exactly what you're working for. I want to enjoy my dog, and on top of it all... I want to enjoy my horse. That is why I work. I work to eat, I work to clothe myself, I work to put gas in my car... But it shouldn't be to put gas in my car to go to work. It should be to put gas in my car to live my life and enjoy it.
If I don't take anything else from this job other than trying to deal with people who are on a continuous power trip, it's that I need to enjoy my life.
End Rant.
3.18.2014
What It's About
So I'm still trying to figure out what exactly I want to use this blog for but I don't exactly just want to get rid of it either.
I wanted to go over things that I do after college... But it's been 5+ years now and well... All I do is work and take care of the horses and the dog and cat. Then more work, but isn't that what the adult world is all about?
What about dieting? A lot of people do that already, but I've finally hit a bump in the road where this whole binge-eating has gotten a little ridiculous. I mean, what have I eaten since I got home... Hmm...
A small bowl of Cheerios... a giant PB&J sandwich (I mean giant)... 2 blueberry eggo waffles... and a plateful of pasta that I stuffed in my face. Before that? A coffee... And for lunch? Taco Bell. For breakfast? A cinnamon bun and another coffee... At least I drank water at work, and a few too many pieces of chocolate... with caramel and peanut butter.
Where is the girl from a few summers ago who was fit as a fiddle and felt awesome about herself all the time. Non-existent now. My show clothes don't fit... My regular clothes don't fit. My scrub pants are starting to fall down off that big donut around the middle because there's nothing to hold them up.
There's always tomorrow right? I can make it up by then? There's always time. I feel like I said that heading into the winter. It's getting myself started that's the issue. I miss running. I miss going to the gym. I have to get that back. I mean yeah, it wasn't all too healthy the way I dropped the weight in the past but I want to do it right this time. I need to learn how to cook and what I should and shouldn't eat. It's fighting the urge for a quick fix just to get me started. But I can't do it that way... I just have to wake up one morning and finally be sick of this. Oh wait... That's been the last few months. Every morning.
As always... Maybe tomorrow.
I wanted to go over things that I do after college... But it's been 5+ years now and well... All I do is work and take care of the horses and the dog and cat. Then more work, but isn't that what the adult world is all about?
What about dieting? A lot of people do that already, but I've finally hit a bump in the road where this whole binge-eating has gotten a little ridiculous. I mean, what have I eaten since I got home... Hmm...
A small bowl of Cheerios... a giant PB&J sandwich (I mean giant)... 2 blueberry eggo waffles... and a plateful of pasta that I stuffed in my face. Before that? A coffee... And for lunch? Taco Bell. For breakfast? A cinnamon bun and another coffee... At least I drank water at work, and a few too many pieces of chocolate... with caramel and peanut butter.
Where is the girl from a few summers ago who was fit as a fiddle and felt awesome about herself all the time. Non-existent now. My show clothes don't fit... My regular clothes don't fit. My scrub pants are starting to fall down off that big donut around the middle because there's nothing to hold them up.
There's always tomorrow right? I can make it up by then? There's always time. I feel like I said that heading into the winter. It's getting myself started that's the issue. I miss running. I miss going to the gym. I have to get that back. I mean yeah, it wasn't all too healthy the way I dropped the weight in the past but I want to do it right this time. I need to learn how to cook and what I should and shouldn't eat. It's fighting the urge for a quick fix just to get me started. But I can't do it that way... I just have to wake up one morning and finally be sick of this. Oh wait... That's been the last few months. Every morning.
As always... Maybe tomorrow.
2.11.2013
Something a Little Different
So it's been a long time since I've posted to this blog and honestly, I can't remember what "inusitatus" even meant and where it came from. I was in high school and it was for a media class. Just basic rants about classes and nothing truly interesting... Except for prom. Oh prom. Do we all remember our senior prom? I definitely do. *sigh*
Well since then, Prout is long gone and so is my 5 years at URI, ending with a BA in Psychology. Oh joy! What to do with that? After job searching and hating, I've finally ended up at an animal hospital close to home and my 3 months is coming up. Never thought I'd be so afraid of a 3-Month Review... At least my degree still comes in handy!
The story is, I want to try and use this blog to review... life, love, experiences in general. I'm trying to live a little more so I want to check out bars, restaurants, places to hang out... Other than the beach. I'm not a beach person. I mean, it's a start for a blog. We'll see where this goes.
Well since then, Prout is long gone and so is my 5 years at URI, ending with a BA in Psychology. Oh joy! What to do with that? After job searching and hating, I've finally ended up at an animal hospital close to home and my 3 months is coming up. Never thought I'd be so afraid of a 3-Month Review... At least my degree still comes in handy!
The story is, I want to try and use this blog to review... life, love, experiences in general. I'm trying to live a little more so I want to check out bars, restaurants, places to hang out... Other than the beach. I'm not a beach person. I mean, it's a start for a blog. We'll see where this goes.
Life, Love, Food, and Beer!
5.31.2006
Retreat
Today's my retreat, but I wanted to post anyway. This past weekend was absolutely amazing. I think these past few months have been the best months of my life. I can't even put them into words. Spending time with my best friends. Going to Anime Boston with my posse. Prom. Yes, Memorial Day was somewhat of a let down. But that was my fault. Now the end of the year is almost up and people are rushing to get things done. I'm just going to let everything fall into place. Yes, I'm behind in some classes, but who isn't? It will work out. I trust in myself. Thanks for making it the best school year guys! I love you all. You know who you are.
-f.A.r.I.s
-f.A.r.I.s
5.24.2006
Yay! New Post!
I have a couple of things to post about today:
1) Prom
Fan-f*n-tastic! It was probably one of the best nights of my life. If I could've shared it with anyone, it would have been the people I shared it with that night. Yeah, my little group coming from the house were late, but we made it didn't we? I actually felt good and everyone looked gorgeous! Everyone! Even the guys were gorgeous. My date thought everyone was going to be absolutely pissed at him that he made us late, but it was fine. He actually connected and was welcomed by, I think, just about everybody he met there. It was great!
After party, yes, we were tired, but it was great. Apples to Apples vs. Labrynth? Eh! Both at the same time! Definately have to post some pictures.
Thanks guys for the best night ever.
2) Barbaro
Unfortunately, I missed both races and being an owner of an ex-racehorse, I'm a little disappointed in myself. When I heard that Barbaro, a young colt bred from USA's La Villa Rouge and Dynaformer, had won the Kentucky Derby I was, in Dave language, pumped! I guess in a way it's favoritism because his lines go all the way back to Native Dancer, the Grey Ghost, who is also seen in my own horse's blood lines, but still. I had heard he was considered an underdog. Who doesn't love an underdog?
Monday was the first time I had heard news about the Preakness. My father had told me that a horse had broken his leg. It was not until yesterday morning driving to school when a friend told me that Barbaro had broken through the gate early and had shattered his right-rear ankle. It took 27 screws a hours of work to put the colt's ankle back together. He wasn't able to start therapy till yesterday.
I was shocked when I heard about this. This kid, if you excuse my personification, is an athlete! Thoroughbreds usually only race for a few years. If they're lucky, 'till they're six. They are bred and built to run and have an amazing lung capacity. The majority of thoroughbreds are runners. That's their job. Racehorse or not. Whenever I hear of a horse who broke through the gate too early, or was kicked, or flipped over the rail, it's upsetting. Only some of them, like Barbaro, survive a break like that. Some injured racehorses get lucky, like my horse and another up at the barn I'm at. My horse was taken out of the races because he had bowed his right tendon by groomer's mistake. His leg was wrapped incorrectly and that ruined his racing "career". I say "career" because, he wouldn't have stayed on the track very long...He was really bad at it. Anyway! I've lost where I was going with this...ONWARDS!
Back to Barbaro. In a split second, a young colt's life was falling in the air. His owners are doing everything possible for him to get better. If he makes it, which is most likely, it just so happens that for career earnings, he has made $2,302,200. 7 starts, 6 wins. Amazing huh? When he heals, he'll be looking forward to lounging in an open green field waiting people to pay him to be the sire or their mare's foal. What a life!
1) Prom
Fan-f*n-tastic! It was probably one of the best nights of my life. If I could've shared it with anyone, it would have been the people I shared it with that night. Yeah, my little group coming from the house were late, but we made it didn't we? I actually felt good and everyone looked gorgeous! Everyone! Even the guys were gorgeous. My date thought everyone was going to be absolutely pissed at him that he made us late, but it was fine. He actually connected and was welcomed by, I think, just about everybody he met there. It was great!
After party, yes, we were tired, but it was great. Apples to Apples vs. Labrynth? Eh! Both at the same time! Definately have to post some pictures.
Thanks guys for the best night ever.
2) Barbaro
Unfortunately, I missed both races and being an owner of an ex-racehorse, I'm a little disappointed in myself. When I heard that Barbaro, a young colt bred from USA's La Villa Rouge and Dynaformer, had won the Kentucky Derby I was, in Dave language, pumped! I guess in a way it's favoritism because his lines go all the way back to Native Dancer, the Grey Ghost, who is also seen in my own horse's blood lines, but still. I had heard he was considered an underdog. Who doesn't love an underdog?
Monday was the first time I had heard news about the Preakness. My father had told me that a horse had broken his leg. It was not until yesterday morning driving to school when a friend told me that Barbaro had broken through the gate early and had shattered his right-rear ankle. It took 27 screws a hours of work to put the colt's ankle back together. He wasn't able to start therapy till yesterday.
I was shocked when I heard about this. This kid, if you excuse my personification, is an athlete! Thoroughbreds usually only race for a few years. If they're lucky, 'till they're six. They are bred and built to run and have an amazing lung capacity. The majority of thoroughbreds are runners. That's their job. Racehorse or not. Whenever I hear of a horse who broke through the gate too early, or was kicked, or flipped over the rail, it's upsetting. Only some of them, like Barbaro, survive a break like that. Some injured racehorses get lucky, like my horse and another up at the barn I'm at. My horse was taken out of the races because he had bowed his right tendon by groomer's mistake. His leg was wrapped incorrectly and that ruined his racing "career". I say "career" because, he wouldn't have stayed on the track very long...He was really bad at it. Anyway! I've lost where I was going with this...ONWARDS!
Back to Barbaro. In a split second, a young colt's life was falling in the air. His owners are doing everything possible for him to get better. If he makes it, which is most likely, it just so happens that for career earnings, he has made $2,302,200. 7 starts, 6 wins. Amazing huh? When he heals, he'll be looking forward to lounging in an open green field waiting people to pay him to be the sire or their mare's foal. What a life!
5.17.2006
What.It's.Done.For.Me
Don't you hate the feeling you get when you think you've let an entire group of people down? Even if it's not a big deal or you're told that it's fine and no one will think less of you, you still feel horrible and feel like you're a let down. God, it's so obnoxious.
I was going to talk about what I've gotten out of creative writing. I was going to say how it has changed me for the worse. I was going to say that ever since I was told that I have no self-confidence, I haven't been able to find the confidence that I had before. I said less in class. I didn't bother typing anything that had to do with our daily discussions. But this is really what I have gotten out of creative writing:
I have found that yeah, my self-confidence meter is almost at zero, but that's me. No matter what people say, I'll always be Maddy. Okay, I lied. My self-confidence meter is not at zero. When I'm out with my friends, I'm not timid or afraid to speak my opinion. I do degrade myself time and time again, but it helps me realize that I'm normal. Everyone does it! Oh jeez, I'm following a trend. What a let down! (I hope you realize that statement is definately sarcastic). I'm not saying that people who are timid and shy don't have any self-confidence. Not trying to say that at all.
Then I thought, what if I'm faking the comfort I have in myself? What if my wacky, crazy side is just a cover up to make people think that I just, don't care what people think of me and that I have all the confidence in the world. But why would I do that? I asked a few people out of school and out of my normal "gang" what they thought about me and my self-confidence. They said I have more confidence than I allow myself to think I have.
It had finally dawned on me today.
What creative writing class has done for me.
How creative writing class has changed me.
It has made me realize my confidence is exactly whatever the hell I make it to be. I have more confidence in some things than others and I just focus on what other people see my confidence as. Whether it be in my own work, memorizing lines for a play and reciting in front of "professionals", or just walking around with a bunch of friends.
My confidence is what I make of it, not what I let others to tell me it is.
This is EXACTLY what creative writing has done for me.
I was going to talk about what I've gotten out of creative writing. I was going to say how it has changed me for the worse. I was going to say that ever since I was told that I have no self-confidence, I haven't been able to find the confidence that I had before. I said less in class. I didn't bother typing anything that had to do with our daily discussions. But this is really what I have gotten out of creative writing:
I have found that yeah, my self-confidence meter is almost at zero, but that's me. No matter what people say, I'll always be Maddy. Okay, I lied. My self-confidence meter is not at zero. When I'm out with my friends, I'm not timid or afraid to speak my opinion. I do degrade myself time and time again, but it helps me realize that I'm normal. Everyone does it! Oh jeez, I'm following a trend. What a let down! (I hope you realize that statement is definately sarcastic). I'm not saying that people who are timid and shy don't have any self-confidence. Not trying to say that at all.
Then I thought, what if I'm faking the comfort I have in myself? What if my wacky, crazy side is just a cover up to make people think that I just, don't care what people think of me and that I have all the confidence in the world. But why would I do that? I asked a few people out of school and out of my normal "gang" what they thought about me and my self-confidence. They said I have more confidence than I allow myself to think I have.
It had finally dawned on me today.
What creative writing class has done for me.
How creative writing class has changed me.
It has made me realize my confidence is exactly whatever the hell I make it to be. I have more confidence in some things than others and I just focus on what other people see my confidence as. Whether it be in my own work, memorizing lines for a play and reciting in front of "professionals", or just walking around with a bunch of friends.
My confidence is what I make of it, not what I let others to tell me it is.
This is EXACTLY what creative writing has done for me.
(I love how music affects your writing.)
-f.A.r.I.s
C.p.S
C.p.S
5.16.2006
My.Part
I typed and typed. Deleted and deleted. I just have nothing to contribute tonight. EXCEPT!
I am very...very...VERY...excited for prom.
I am very...very...VERY...excited for prom.
5.15.2006
Artists
I know I'm kind of going backwards with this, but here's something I wrote for the "Cultural Encounters" essay for english. It may spark interest, or it may not. But the music is really, really good.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
I don't know if my reflection on it made much sense, but I love what she said.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Saturday night was my “cultural encounters” night. I went out to eat and came home and watched a foreign film that was actually, really great. On the way to and from Seven Moons, I listened to “Ah Odessa” by Masha Rasputina, a Russian pop singer. I tried to do some background information on this singer but there was not much to be found other than that she is quite popular, even in the
“Because I was doing something that some people that was fresh, new and exciting, there was this idea that I was gonna bring forth a big Ten Commandments type of statement or something…But people don’t realize that I had to come from a village in
Reading this statement made me think about all the other underground artists out there who do not really have all of the chances others might. To become a true artist, you need to reflect on a journey you have taken, like she did, and she worked hard for where she got.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooI don't know if my reflection on it made much sense, but I love what she said.
5.14.2006
No.Subject
If we never met again,
Would you miss me?
And if I asked you to,
Would you kiss me?
Would you hold me tight,
In your arms,
And whisper in my ear,
That you loved me.
I hate it when a huge part of your life is staring you right in the face.
I hate it when a love that could get lost is sitting right next to you.
I hate it when you don't realize that you can have what you want, but you won't take it.
I hate it when you just,
can't let go of the past.
And I hate it when I'm the only one who sees it.
Would you miss me?
And if I asked you to,
Would you kiss me?
Would you hold me tight,
In your arms,
And whisper in my ear,
That you loved me.
I hate it when a huge part of your life is staring you right in the face.
I hate it when a love that could get lost is sitting right next to you.
I hate it when you don't realize that you can have what you want, but you won't take it.
I hate it when you just,
can't let go of the past.
And I hate it when I'm the only one who sees it.
G.Force
SUNDAY! The day of homework. Scchhwwweeet!
I'm trying to figure out this G Force Visualization thing and it just doesn't want to work for me.
Lately, things haven't gone my way, but this is the only one that is bothering me. *growls*
Off THAT subject.
Sorry if anyone missed me Friday. Woke up all congested and crappy. Plus, I had 13 horses under my care and they were left in the pouring rain. Commn sense people! If it's pouring...Bring them in! Then you can feed them lunch. Glad I was there to save the day.
My rant for the evening. Like usual, will not spark conversation and I've got an anatomy practical to study for.
Later ya'll.
I'm trying to figure out this G Force Visualization thing and it just doesn't want to work for me.
Lately, things haven't gone my way, but this is the only one that is bothering me. *growls*
Off THAT subject.
Sorry if anyone missed me Friday. Woke up all congested and crappy. Plus, I had 13 horses under my care and they were left in the pouring rain. Commn sense people! If it's pouring...Bring them in! Then you can feed them lunch. Glad I was there to save the day.
My rant for the evening. Like usual, will not spark conversation and I've got an anatomy practical to study for.
Later ya'll.
5.09.2006
The.Way.It.Is
That's just the way it is!
Yep...
Things are what they are to be...
What they are.
(so happy...)
Challenges that are thrown at you?
Take 'em down and defeat the ultimate...(no, not ninja)
A friend told me about something today.
Gotta better chance.
Very happy.
(You're so lost aren't you?)
Yep...
Things are what they are to be...
What they are.
(so happy...)
Challenges that are thrown at you?
Take 'em down and defeat the ultimate...(no, not ninja)
A friend told me about something today.
Gotta better chance.
Very happy.
(You're so lost aren't you?)
-f.A.r.I.s
C.P.S
C.P.S
5.07.2006
Air.Soft
Nothing to rant about. Nothing to complain about.
But I have a new favorite game!
Airsoft - like paintball, but cheaper.
Played today. Got a welt on my thigh. Doesn't hurt, but Alexander the Great nailed me behind the ear with an AK 47 rifle (airsoft rifle of course). Yeah...That hurt. Then I took him out.
Running blindly into a field of bb's flyin'? Adrenaline...
I'm lovin' it.
Now to get my own gun.
But I have a new favorite game!
Airsoft - like paintball, but cheaper.
Played today. Got a welt on my thigh. Doesn't hurt, but Alexander the Great nailed me behind the ear with an AK 47 rifle (airsoft rifle of course). Yeah...That hurt. Then I took him out.
Running blindly into a field of bb's flyin'? Adrenaline...
I'm lovin' it.
Now to get my own gun.
f.A.r.I.s
c.P.s
(up till 4 am sunday mornin'...tired...brett, alex, russ...i love you guys)
c.P.s
(up till 4 am sunday mornin'...tired...brett, alex, russ...i love you guys)
5.04.2006
Giving.Up
Personal/Bawl Out Post!
(You have been warned.)
It may not seem a big deal, but it is to me. Someone *no pointing* said that I gave up when things became too difficult for me. When there's something I don't understand, I push back and just give up. What this person doesn't realize is that yes, I will do that from time to time, but I go back and get the job done.
These past few days have been hard for me. It's going to be a hard month. I've got my mind on other things and I wasn't thinking today. That's the only reason I was "stupid".
I know I know. That's no excuse. But when you are on the edge, you are on the edge and there are only certain things that are constantly running through your mind.
I ask questions. They may seem like idiotic questions that I "obviously" know the answer to, but I still ask. There's nothing wrong with that. I don't say, "Hey, how do I do this? Can you do it for me?" It's more like, "I don't understand how this works, can you explain it to me." I will never ask someone to do it for me unless they're showing me how to in the first place. At least I ask for help.
If I gave up so easily. I wouldn't have my horse. I would've sold him after the first three payments of 225 dollars which, three years later is 325 dollars a month (I've payed for him all by myself, including shavings & other necessities since summer before 10th grade). I would've sold him when my first winter went by and spring rolled in. Ever work with a horse who hasn't been worked with all winter? When spring rolls in, you start all over. It's so frustrating. The bucking. The biting. The fighting against you. There is no peace. I remember trying to ride and jumping off, throwing my own tantrum. I walked away from him. Just leaving him there. I opened the gate and stopped. I turned around, put my helmet back on and re-mounted. That was one of the best rides we have ever had. (I'd go into more detail and other runs we've had but I know you want to see the end.)
It taught me something. Don't give up. Yeah, I'm tough. But I don't get going when times get tough. I stick with it and I've pulled through and I will continue to do so.
I give piano lessons to little kids and a close friend of mine. My number one pet peeve? "I can't do it!" I follow my own rules and you'll rarely find a time when I say that. That phrase is a cop-out and one of the worst excuses ever. Yes, there will be times when it is legit, but try. Really really really try. I do. If there's something I don't understand, I don't say that I can't, I say, "I don't understand. Can you explain it to me?" If my students ask me this instead of saying that they can't, I explain it and then they understand. They become more comfortable asking for help as well.
Sometimes a girl just needs to be pointed in the right direction!!!
It ticks me off when you ask a person to explain something and they get aggravated with you. Don't they make you, who doesn't understand in the first place, feel even more stupid and afraid to ask them questions again? They do that to me.
*breaths*
Okay...I'm done.
(You have been warned.)
It may not seem a big deal, but it is to me. Someone *no pointing* said that I gave up when things became too difficult for me. When there's something I don't understand, I push back and just give up. What this person doesn't realize is that yes, I will do that from time to time, but I go back and get the job done.
These past few days have been hard for me. It's going to be a hard month. I've got my mind on other things and I wasn't thinking today. That's the only reason I was "stupid".
I know I know. That's no excuse. But when you are on the edge, you are on the edge and there are only certain things that are constantly running through your mind.
I ask questions. They may seem like idiotic questions that I "obviously" know the answer to, but I still ask. There's nothing wrong with that. I don't say, "Hey, how do I do this? Can you do it for me?" It's more like, "I don't understand how this works, can you explain it to me." I will never ask someone to do it for me unless they're showing me how to in the first place. At least I ask for help.
If I gave up so easily. I wouldn't have my horse. I would've sold him after the first three payments of 225 dollars which, three years later is 325 dollars a month (I've payed for him all by myself, including shavings & other necessities since summer before 10th grade). I would've sold him when my first winter went by and spring rolled in. Ever work with a horse who hasn't been worked with all winter? When spring rolls in, you start all over. It's so frustrating. The bucking. The biting. The fighting against you. There is no peace. I remember trying to ride and jumping off, throwing my own tantrum. I walked away from him. Just leaving him there. I opened the gate and stopped. I turned around, put my helmet back on and re-mounted. That was one of the best rides we have ever had. (I'd go into more detail and other runs we've had but I know you want to see the end.)
It taught me something. Don't give up. Yeah, I'm tough. But I don't get going when times get tough. I stick with it and I've pulled through and I will continue to do so.
I give piano lessons to little kids and a close friend of mine. My number one pet peeve? "I can't do it!" I follow my own rules and you'll rarely find a time when I say that. That phrase is a cop-out and one of the worst excuses ever. Yes, there will be times when it is legit, but try. Really really really try. I do. If there's something I don't understand, I don't say that I can't, I say, "I don't understand. Can you explain it to me?" If my students ask me this instead of saying that they can't, I explain it and then they understand. They become more comfortable asking for help as well.
Sometimes a girl just needs to be pointed in the right direction!!!
It ticks me off when you ask a person to explain something and they get aggravated with you. Don't they make you, who doesn't understand in the first place, feel even more stupid and afraid to ask them questions again? They do that to me.
*breaths*
Okay...I'm done.
f.A.r.I.s
{c.P.s}
{c.P.s}
I have confidence in sunshine.
I have confidence in rain.
I have confidence that spring will come again.
Besides which you see, I have confidence in me!
-The Sound of Music
-" I Have Confidence"
I have confidence in rain.
I have confidence that spring will come again.
Besides which you see, I have confidence in me!
-The Sound of Music
-" I Have Confidence"
5.03.2006
Excuse.Me
?: whats up with you?
Madz: nothin' really
Madz: trying to find something to blog about
?: how about... aliens... and ghosts... alien ghosts.... yeah
Sorry...Don't think that'll cut it. I don't know much about either anywho! Hehehe.
Anyway, post of the night...Or day.
-----------------------------
She didn't understand it. Her...her mother...They always got along fine. But lately, something had gone completely wrong. Every week it was something new with the same fate. "I want you out of my f***in' house!"
The problem was, when she tried to leave, she couldn't. Last week she was already all packed. Just no where to go. Then when she went to leave, her mother took her out. No where special. Just a run to Wally World of course. Anything her mother said she ignored. She didn't want it to go away. She wanted to leave. She wanted a fight.
Why you ask?
Because her mother had always tried to cover it up. Like foundation over a small bump on your face. The problem is. That doesn't make the bump go away right? Then another just "pops" up and you smooth foundation over that one as well.
Look!
No blemish.
Wrong!
It's under that sheet of fakeness and it won't go away until you do something about it.
Her mother would cover up the problem. "It's over." "Let's not talk about it."
Today was the day she would sit her mother down and talk about it.
She walked up to her mother. "Can I go to a friend's?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because it's a school night."
Watching the siloutte of her body and the end of her cigarrette sizzle in the night air, she couldn't figure it out. She thought to herself as she asked the question again. *Nothing's wrong anymore? You're not pissed?*
"It's a school night."
*I don't care. I'm not welcome.* She walks to the kitchen without a response. Her mother comes and sits down in the usual chair...Knitting.
"Please. You told me to leave."
"No, let's not talk about it."
"Fine! If we don't talk about it and it doesn't get fixed. I'll blame you." She bolted upstairs to call two of her best friends.
One who welcomed the girl into her home...
and the other who welcomed her into his heart...
-------------------------------
Eh.
Not what I expected.
Not what I wanted.
But being picky gets us in trouble.
Sorry if it's awful.
Madz: nothin' really
Madz: trying to find something to blog about
?: how about... aliens... and ghosts... alien ghosts.... yeah
Sorry...Don't think that'll cut it. I don't know much about either anywho! Hehehe.
Anyway, post of the night...Or day.
-----------------------------
She didn't understand it. Her...her mother...They always got along fine. But lately, something had gone completely wrong. Every week it was something new with the same fate. "I want you out of my f***in' house!"
The problem was, when she tried to leave, she couldn't. Last week she was already all packed. Just no where to go. Then when she went to leave, her mother took her out. No where special. Just a run to Wally World of course. Anything her mother said she ignored. She didn't want it to go away. She wanted to leave. She wanted a fight.
Why you ask?
Because her mother had always tried to cover it up. Like foundation over a small bump on your face. The problem is. That doesn't make the bump go away right? Then another just "pops" up and you smooth foundation over that one as well.
Look!
No blemish.
Wrong!
It's under that sheet of fakeness and it won't go away until you do something about it.
Her mother would cover up the problem. "It's over." "Let's not talk about it."
Today was the day she would sit her mother down and talk about it.
She walked up to her mother. "Can I go to a friend's?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because it's a school night."
Watching the siloutte of her body and the end of her cigarrette sizzle in the night air, she couldn't figure it out. She thought to herself as she asked the question again. *Nothing's wrong anymore? You're not pissed?*
"It's a school night."
*I don't care. I'm not welcome.* She walks to the kitchen without a response. Her mother comes and sits down in the usual chair...Knitting.
"Please. You told me to leave."
"No, let's not talk about it."
"Fine! If we don't talk about it and it doesn't get fixed. I'll blame you." She bolted upstairs to call two of her best friends.
One who welcomed the girl into her home...
and the other who welcomed her into his heart...
-------------------------------
Eh.
Not what I expected.
Not what I wanted.
But being picky gets us in trouble.
Sorry if it's awful.
f.A.r.I.s
5.02.2006
Just.Do.It
"How can you put so much into a relationship...and get walked all over?" He went on, across from me. Talking and eating his ice cream. My best friend.
All I could think about was how I could be so lucky. There he is. Right there in front of me. C'mon! Lay all the cards on the table. Just do it. Tell him.
He knows. I know he knows. He feels, the same way...Somewhat. Why can't I just say it! Tell him how I feel? Smile, that's it. He's your best friend. He'll understand.
But what if something goes terribly wrong? What do I do then? He told me to be honest, why can't I just...Do it.
How can you like him so much...And not do anything about it. Maybe I'm not supposed to.
The waiter drops the check. I picked it up last time. Not a likely girl thing. It wasn't a date. This isn't a date. We split it this time and get back in my car and drive to his place.
Here's my chance! He sings along to the song he wanted to show me.
Just tell him!
Just do it!
All I could think about was how I could be so lucky. There he is. Right there in front of me. C'mon! Lay all the cards on the table. Just do it. Tell him.
He knows. I know he knows. He feels, the same way...Somewhat. Why can't I just say it! Tell him how I feel? Smile, that's it. He's your best friend. He'll understand.
But what if something goes terribly wrong? What do I do then? He told me to be honest, why can't I just...Do it.
How can you like him so much...And not do anything about it. Maybe I'm not supposed to.
The waiter drops the check. I picked it up last time. Not a likely girl thing. It wasn't a date. This isn't a date. We split it this time and get back in my car and drive to his place.
Here's my chance! He sings along to the song he wanted to show me.
Just tell him!
Just do it!
4.30.2006
It's.Been.Awhile
Been a little..Distracted these pass couple days. I did post! Once...I know.
The subjects where people were posting were not really of my interest.
I don't want to make it sound like it doesn't matter to me...But I don't like writing about stuff I don't know about.
Don't want to seem...Ignorant you could say?
Even now I'm trying to find the right thing to post about.
The play was great.
After the play was better.
Hung out with old friends who made a new friend.
Lots of laughing.
Some spillage of water. That was interesting.
Spent this past weekend (beginning Wednesday night) with the same person.
Most of it anyway.
Not sick of him either.
He helped me realize a problem I had.
Competition.
I'm never going to compete for someone.
I told 'em that.
Spent two of my high school years doin' it.
What a waste of time.
A total waste of time.
I'm done.
Period.
If someone says, "You've got some competition now for so-and-so."
Nope, not gonna do it.
Tired of it.
It's totally not worth it.
This is an awful post.
I'll stop before I get too into...Nevermind.
Too late for that.
The subjects where people were posting were not really of my interest.
I don't want to make it sound like it doesn't matter to me...But I don't like writing about stuff I don't know about.
Don't want to seem...Ignorant you could say?
Even now I'm trying to find the right thing to post about.
The play was great.
After the play was better.
Hung out with old friends who made a new friend.
Lots of laughing.
Some spillage of water. That was interesting.
Spent this past weekend (beginning Wednesday night) with the same person.
Most of it anyway.
Not sick of him either.
He helped me realize a problem I had.
Competition.
I'm never going to compete for someone.
I told 'em that.
Spent two of my high school years doin' it.
What a waste of time.
A total waste of time.
I'm done.
Period.
If someone says, "You've got some competition now for so-and-so."
Nope, not gonna do it.
Tired of it.
It's totally not worth it.
This is an awful post.
I'll stop before I get too into...Nevermind.
Too late for that.
f.A.r.I.s
C.p.S
C.p.S
4.24.2006
High.School
High School
It's a place where you figure out the basis of who you are and who you will become.
It's a place where you see who's a lasting friend and who's an acquaintance.
It changes who you were and I'm bloody glad it did.
High School changed me from a problematic junior high student, to a responsible and independent person. You may contrast with the independent part but there are many, like myself, who began paying for themselves in the beginning of their high school days. It was sophomore year when I began paying for my own clothes and all my extra stuff. Like my horse. Now today, I pay and take care of all that plus my car. Yes, I live under my family's roof and they feed me, but that's when I'm home. And I'm happy I still have that.
Going off to college they say is a big step. I want to disagree, but I can't because I have not been there just yet. It will happen soon though and I believe that I am ready for the responsibility of living "on my own". Freshman year I'll be home. Sophomore year, with Jackie. And Junior and Senior, hopefully in an apartment with Jackie, Kyle, and who ever else stumbles along. This may change, but at least I have a goal.
I'm ready.
(And I have confidence in that statement and in myself.)
It's a place where you figure out the basis of who you are and who you will become.
It's a place where you see who's a lasting friend and who's an acquaintance.
It changes who you were and I'm bloody glad it did.
High School changed me from a problematic junior high student, to a responsible and independent person. You may contrast with the independent part but there are many, like myself, who began paying for themselves in the beginning of their high school days. It was sophomore year when I began paying for my own clothes and all my extra stuff. Like my horse. Now today, I pay and take care of all that plus my car. Yes, I live under my family's roof and they feed me, but that's when I'm home. And I'm happy I still have that.
Going off to college they say is a big step. I want to disagree, but I can't because I have not been there just yet. It will happen soon though and I believe that I am ready for the responsibility of living "on my own". Freshman year I'll be home. Sophomore year, with Jackie. And Junior and Senior, hopefully in an apartment with Jackie, Kyle, and who ever else stumbles along. This may change, but at least I have a goal.
I'm ready.
(And I have confidence in that statement and in myself.)
4.13.2006
Another.Time.To.Know
Chapter.Three
He sat staring out at the harvest moon. It was an odd feeling he got everytime he saw it. It left him in awe, the orange and yellow molded together adding up to a great, wonderous sight. He concentrated on it hard, bringing it down to him.
"Matthew?" The sound of his name broke his concentration and the moon appeared back in the sky. "Mattie?" There was only one person who had ever called him that. Traci Tivin, a friend since...Well, he couldn't even remember when they first met. She appeared at the top of the hill.
"Is this seat taken?"
"Does it look like someone's sitting there?" He had been pretty cold to her ever since she ditched him for jocks and cheerleading. They were like brother and sister until sixth grade. Now their friendship was on and off.
Traci sat down next to him and the blood on his hand caught her eye. "What happened? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine." He wrapped some gauze that he had in his backpack around it. He didn't have any tape so he just folded it in itself.
"You should clean that. It'll get infected."
"What is it to you? Why don't you go worry about wether your make up matches your cheerleading outfit or something." He turned away from her not wanting to see the hurt look on her face. He knew it hurt her when he mocked her. "Besides, we're all gonna die anyway. I'm just speeding up the process with a small cut." He stood up swinging his bag over his shoulder and left Traci there...Alone.
He sat staring out at the harvest moon. It was an odd feeling he got everytime he saw it. It left him in awe, the orange and yellow molded together adding up to a great, wonderous sight. He concentrated on it hard, bringing it down to him.
"Matthew?" The sound of his name broke his concentration and the moon appeared back in the sky. "Mattie?" There was only one person who had ever called him that. Traci Tivin, a friend since...Well, he couldn't even remember when they first met. She appeared at the top of the hill.
"Is this seat taken?"
"Does it look like someone's sitting there?" He had been pretty cold to her ever since she ditched him for jocks and cheerleading. They were like brother and sister until sixth grade. Now their friendship was on and off.
Traci sat down next to him and the blood on his hand caught her eye. "What happened? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine." He wrapped some gauze that he had in his backpack around it. He didn't have any tape so he just folded it in itself.
"You should clean that. It'll get infected."
"What is it to you? Why don't you go worry about wether your make up matches your cheerleading outfit or something." He turned away from her not wanting to see the hurt look on her face. He knew it hurt her when he mocked her. "Besides, we're all gonna die anyway. I'm just speeding up the process with a small cut." He stood up swinging his bag over his shoulder and left Traci there...Alone.
4.11.2006
.Afghan.
Love is fond
Love is bold
Love is gone
and Love is told.
Love is bold
Love is gone
and Love is told.
Love is another
A sister
A brother.
A sister
A brother.
Love is together
Love is apart
Love is hither
Located near the heart.
Love is hither
Located near the heart.
Broken,
Or whole.
Or whole.
--------------------------------------------------------
As the officer walked down the creaky basement stares, he felt a bit nervous, not knowing what to expect. He looked all around the basement. It was warm, not cold like he had expected. There were different bands and singers posted all over the walls. Jimi Hendrix was one posted right over a black Gibson acoustic resting on a stand, a chord hanging up next to it on top of a small amp. *I never knew he played the guitar.* He touched the headstock of the guitar and looked around at all of the other posters. Nirvana, Blink 182, Third Eye Blind, and some bands he had never heard of.
Bucka really didn't know what he was looking for. He knew that Matt was clean and wasn't into pot or any other drugs. First seventeen year old boy that he's ever met like that. Maybe that came with the officer's profession. As a cop, it's not likely that the kids who come into the station are clean.
He flipped through a small photo book seeing Matt with a few friends. A lot of them were of him and his best friend Rad who Bucka knew very well. They both were always in and out of the station. He shut the photo book and walked towards a bookcase. As he ran his fingers across the books, he felt a tug on his pants. It was Matt's younger brother Kylie.
"Sir?" The boy was about six or seven years old and looked exactly like Matt and his mother.
"Yes?" Bucka spoke lightly so Kylie didn't feel scared or uneasy.
"Are you going to find my big brother?" A tiny tear appeared from the corner of his eye. The officer knelt down on one knee in front him. Kylie looked down at his feet and gave a little sniffle.
"Yes. On one condition." This made Kylie look back up at him. "You have to help your mom. She's going through a rough time and you have to help make it easier on her. Take care of her until Matt gets back. Anytime she gets upset just give her a great big bear hug."
"Like this?" The boy smiled and flung his arms around Bucka's neck. The officer laughed.
"Just like that."
"Thank you." The boy smiled and ran off upstairs to find his mother.
Bucka used a desk for balance as he stood up. *I'm getting to old for this* He thought to himself. He continued to look for clues, rummaging through Matt's desk drawers. In one drawer was a small notebook, leather bound. He opened the notebook and saw that it was a sketch pad. There were little pencil sketches of a man that looked like Matt, but older. On the next page, there was another drawing of a young man standing with an older woman and a younger boy. They were standing in front of a grave. When he looked closer, he realized it was a scene that Matt had drawn from his father's funeral. He flipped through the pages, there were some pages ripped out, but nothing that could help Bucka out. He put the book back in the drawer and shut it. He took one more look around the room, then continued his way upstairs.
As he exited the basement and shut the door, Matt's mother walked in from the other room smiling. Kylie ran in right behind her up to Bucka. "I did exactly what you told me too! Now I have to go to bed..." Then he ran off upstairs.
His mother looked at Bucka with a tear in her eye. She smiled a thank you. "Did you find anything?"
Bucka looked down shaking his head. "Sorry miss. I didn't find anything that would've helped. I didn't realize that Matt was an artist or a musician. His sketches are amazing."
"He gets that from his father." Katherine smiled and walked over to the coffee table, picked up the two coffee mugs from early and carried them over to the sink. A long silence continued until finally Bucka walked over and picked up his hat.
"I better get back to the station. I'll let you know if anything turns up." He smiled.
"Thank you so much for coming down." They walked to the door and she opened it.
"It's my job miss." He put on his hat nodding slightly, and walked out the door. He was disappointed that he didn't find anything that would help. Then he thought about it. Rad would probably know something.
Bucka really didn't know what he was looking for. He knew that Matt was clean and wasn't into pot or any other drugs. First seventeen year old boy that he's ever met like that. Maybe that came with the officer's profession. As a cop, it's not likely that the kids who come into the station are clean.
He flipped through a small photo book seeing Matt with a few friends. A lot of them were of him and his best friend Rad who Bucka knew very well. They both were always in and out of the station. He shut the photo book and walked towards a bookcase. As he ran his fingers across the books, he felt a tug on his pants. It was Matt's younger brother Kylie.
"Sir?" The boy was about six or seven years old and looked exactly like Matt and his mother.
"Yes?" Bucka spoke lightly so Kylie didn't feel scared or uneasy.
"Are you going to find my big brother?" A tiny tear appeared from the corner of his eye. The officer knelt down on one knee in front him. Kylie looked down at his feet and gave a little sniffle.
"Yes. On one condition." This made Kylie look back up at him. "You have to help your mom. She's going through a rough time and you have to help make it easier on her. Take care of her until Matt gets back. Anytime she gets upset just give her a great big bear hug."
"Like this?" The boy smiled and flung his arms around Bucka's neck. The officer laughed.
"Just like that."
"Thank you." The boy smiled and ran off upstairs to find his mother.
Bucka used a desk for balance as he stood up. *I'm getting to old for this* He thought to himself. He continued to look for clues, rummaging through Matt's desk drawers. In one drawer was a small notebook, leather bound. He opened the notebook and saw that it was a sketch pad. There were little pencil sketches of a man that looked like Matt, but older. On the next page, there was another drawing of a young man standing with an older woman and a younger boy. They were standing in front of a grave. When he looked closer, he realized it was a scene that Matt had drawn from his father's funeral. He flipped through the pages, there were some pages ripped out, but nothing that could help Bucka out. He put the book back in the drawer and shut it. He took one more look around the room, then continued his way upstairs.
As he exited the basement and shut the door, Matt's mother walked in from the other room smiling. Kylie ran in right behind her up to Bucka. "I did exactly what you told me too! Now I have to go to bed..." Then he ran off upstairs.
His mother looked at Bucka with a tear in her eye. She smiled a thank you. "Did you find anything?"
Bucka looked down shaking his head. "Sorry miss. I didn't find anything that would've helped. I didn't realize that Matt was an artist or a musician. His sketches are amazing."
"He gets that from his father." Katherine smiled and walked over to the coffee table, picked up the two coffee mugs from early and carried them over to the sink. A long silence continued until finally Bucka walked over and picked up his hat.
"I better get back to the station. I'll let you know if anything turns up." He smiled.
"Thank you so much for coming down." They walked to the door and she opened it.
"It's my job miss." He put on his hat nodding slightly, and walked out the door. He was disappointed that he didn't find anything that would help. Then he thought about it. Rad would probably know something.
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