Keep On Spinning…

Ahhh, just booked the tickets and the hotel for my little weekend-getaway next weekend in the City That Never Sleeps. 🙂 Leaving Saturday morning–checking out a couple of studios and lofts in Upper Manhattan, lunch and catching up with a couple of girlfriends from good ol’ Colgate, some shopping and sightseeing, skating in Bryant Park is an absolute MUST (depending on this darn hurting elbow of mine, of course), stopping into the M&M World in Times Square for a bag of hot PINK candies for my Avie love (when an almost 3-year-old demands pink emmy-ems, you don’t ask questions), and finally rounding out the trip with final interviews in Midtown on Monday.

Okay, so truth is…I’m a little freaked out, but soooooo excited. I feel like things are FINALLY starting to happen and I couldn’t be happier. Oh, and I did I mention….I’m flying solo this trip? Yep. I’m thinking it’ll be a little test-run of sorts…seeing how I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be a solo move after all. I’m not going to lie–I’m a little sad about that, but you know what they say…sometimes a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. So I’m gonna live it up…and just keep on living…at least until the ground stops spinnning…or I fall on my @SS (which for me, might be both)…whichever. 🙂

leaving town



What Will Be…Will Be…

Okay, so the bestie and I are probably on the outs with each other right now. Or we will…when she reads my response to the message she sent me. And to tell you the truth, right now…at this moment…I don’t care. I’m just past the point of caring any more or at least right now, anyhow. I know it’s a horrible thing to say, but sometimes…sometimes I think that maybe it would have been better if we just left things like they were after that year of not talking…you know? If we hadn’t become friends again. I mean, that year–yeah, it sucked and it hurt like hell…but I gained a lot of perspective in those 11 months.

We’re so different from the people we were before that year. So different. And I can’t just ignore , you know? And honestly…I don’t think I want to. It hurts so much to say that…out loud…but it hurts even more to continue NOT saying it. Lately, I just keep going back and thinking about that message I sent her a couple of months after she didn’t respond to the letter I’d mailed to her house–a letter that as it turned out, was either lost or misplaced in the mail since she was in the process of moving at the time. Of course, I didn’t know that when I sent the other message. That message–I don’t really know how to explain what it was. I guess it was a goodbye of sorts, you know? When I sent it, I honestly never expected her to respond to it…especially not after 11 long months of unexplained silence. Again, it’s probably a horrible thing to say, but there are times when I almost wish she hadn’t–that it would have ended at that. I hate myself for saying that, let alone thinking it, I really do, but I can’t help it. I hate myself for what I did. Even now, after all this time, I still feel guilty about it. I’m not proud of it or of my actions. All those months, I tried to console myself with the knowledge that I was doing it for a good reason and that it was best for everyone that way. But even those reasons weren’t much of a consolation–mainly because I knew that she was hurting. I hated myself so much for that…for her hurting her.

She wasn’t the only one hurting though. I was hurting, too. Granted, it was my doing, but contrary to what people may think–it wasn’t an easy thing to do. It was by far, one of the hardest things I ever had to do. I don’t think I have ever felt as lonely as I did in those 11 months. I felt so alone then. It was like the world had turned its back on me. Like I’d lost everything. And as crazy as it sounds, I guess I felt like I deserved it…like it was my punishment for all the mistakes I’d made or something. Maybe it was, I don’t know. All I knew was that it was my fault. My fault for pushing my friends away, without even giving them so much of an explanation or a reason. And ultimately, I did the same to my family. I shut them all out. I’m not going to lie–those first few months were pure hell. I don’t know when it happened exactly, but eventually it got easier. I got used to it, used to being alone…used to not needing them or anyone else, for that matter. It was easier that way, I guess. I stopped everything. There were times when I didn’t leave my apartment for weeks. It was like I was in my own little world. I felt safe there in the silence. I didn’t have to worry about seeing people I didn’t want to see. Or worry about anyone finding out the truth. I didn’t have to worry about people seeing through the facade to the broken mess that I had become…or worry that they would try to fix me when I didn’t want to be fixed. I didn’t want to pretend to be okay anymore. I just wanted to be left alone. I didn’t want to feel anything or to remember. I just wanted to feel numb and to forget.

While I feel horrible that I hurt people by doing what I did–I think the time apart was actually good for me. It gave me time to figure a lot of things out. It also gave me time to find myself. Moreover, it allowed me the time to realize my own strength. For the first time, I didn’t have to do or feel what I was told to do. Those 11 months changed me. I grew up. I found out that I didn’t need anyone holding my hand or to be there to pick up the pieces or clean up my messes for me. For the first time, I finally started living for myself–unlike how I’d been living.

That said, maybe I should have left things as they were. I don’t know. I just can’t help but to think that she and I would have been better off, had we not made up and became friends again. I mean, at least then it wouldn’t be so complicated or awkward. I think maybe I was just naive to think that it would be okay. I think a part of me figured things would go back to the way they were. Then again, I think I just wanted so badly to believe that it could happen, unrealistic as that notion was.

Even now, it’s still so awkward. I thought that awkwardness would eventually go away, but it hasn’t. As much as it hurts to admit it, it’s like we’re just going through the motions. It doesn’t feel like we’re really friends, you know? Sure, we chat online, talk on the phone, and hang out sometimes…but it’s not the same. It’s really hard for me to say this, but I think I’m starting to realize and accept that it never will be. Granted, it hurts…but I think I’m okay with it. It’s horrible, but I did it for 11 months and I was okay…so I could probably do it again, us not being friends. I’m not saying that to be cruel…I just think it might be better that way. The way things are right now…I just don’t think it’s fair to either one of us. I don’t think we’ll ever be able to get back to the way it was if we stay like we are…avoiding the big things. After all this time, she still hasn’t asked me what happened or what I did or why I shut her out all those months. I think we’re both scared to talk about it…to go back and face the hurt all over again. I think she’s trying to avoid a confrontation or another fight. While I understand it, I still think we need to talk about it. I just feel like there’s this dark cloud hanging over our heads and not talking about it just makes it worse. It sounds crazy, but I want her to ask me about it. I want her to get mad and to tell me h ow much she hates me for it. I want her to fight…to do something. To do anything–anything other than pretending it never happened. I’ve tried to talk to her about it, but she won’t. She just says that she doesn’t need to know. That it’s okay. But it’s not okay. It’s not. I want it to be…I want my best friend back. I don’t want to make small-talk when we hang out. I don’t want to pretend. I want to be able to talk to her…really talk to her. And I can’t. We used to tell each other everything…no matter what. And I really want that back, more than anything. But I’m starting to think that won’t ever happen. And it hurts so damn much. So much.

I don’t think this NYC move is going to happen…the two of us going down together, I mean. She says she still wants to go, but I can tell she’s having second thoughts. She’s said it herself, just not in so many words. That’s why I’m a little pissed with her right now…and why I sent her that bitchy message earlier. Then again, I’m not so much pissed off with her as I am frustrated with the situation. I just wish she’d make up her mind and decide once and for all what she wants to do–if she’s staying or going–and just get it over with–that way I can figure out what I have to do. I just feel like I’ve been waiting around these past few weeks for something that isn’t going to happen. Like I’m waiting for nothing, you know? I mean, it’s not really fair to me…putting my plans and my life on hold while she figures hers out. I hate to say it, but I think a large part of it has to do with the new boyfriend, I really do. She’ll never admit it of course, but I know her. In fact, I’ve been through this type of thing with her before. It was like this the last time when we first lived together, so I know how it works…and also, how it’s going to end. The boyfriend situation nearly destroyed our friendship that time. He practically lived there…he was there so much. It eventually got to the point where I had no say in what happened in my own apartment. He and I didn’t get along that well–mainly because he was a total ass, among other things. Naturally, that caused a lot of tension and problems between her and I. We’d argue about the littlest things, all the time. So to avoid it, I pretty much stayed away from the apartment most of the time. I slept there, and that’s about it. I got into some pretty bad stuff to try to escape it all and well…things got worse from there. It got so bad–the fighting–one night, that had a mutual friend of ours not been there to play referee, we probably would have killed each other. I’m not talking about some girly hair-pulling, scratching cat fight either. I’m talking about hammers and chairs and glass beer bottles getting thrown…yeah. It was bad. I mean, I usually could hold my own in our fights leading up to that one, but that night…she was absolutely psychotic. Granted, she was pretty wasted and not thinking too clearly, but still. Like any normal, sane person would, I moved out the next day. We didn’t talk for months afterwards…a record for us. Anyhow yeah…I know where this is heading, because I’ve been there. If she wants to stay here with him, then that’s what I want her to do. I don’t want to make the mistake of going all the way down to NYC and signing a lease with her, only to have her change her mind in a couple of months and want to come back. I’m not doing that. It sounds kind of mean, but I don’t need her…not like that, anyhow. I don’t need her to go to NYC with me or do any of this with me. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of and doing this myself. I’ve been doing for a long time now, after all.

Knowing her, she’s probably going to take what I said in the message in a bad way…when it’s not really how I intended when I wrote the words. I’m not trying to be a bitch. I’m not telling her I don’t want her to go. I simply just want her to make up her mind so I can get the ball rolling. Honestly, I do think she should stay here, at least until she’s had time to decide where she really wants to be and where she and the boyfriend stand in all of this. That’s all I want. I guess I’ll just have to wait and see what happens, for now…


So Said Little Red Riding Hood…

Okay, a little random post from my wonderfully random life…

So, as I’ve mentioned many times in this blog, I’m not a big fan of religion. I wouldn’t really call myself an atheist though. It’s not that I don’t believe in God per se…I’m just more the “have to see it to believe it” type myself. As for whether the Devil or Satan or some other kind of anti-Christ whatever exists…again, I don’t know. I do believe in good though…and I do know that evil exists, because I’ve seen it. Time and time again…in the news, on TV, in news feeds splashed across social media…even just walking down the street, I’ve seen it. We all have. Evil exists and that’s a fact. I don’t know if I buy the whole “everyone is born good” thing though. Personally, I don’t think it’s true. I think there really are people in this world that are born just plain evil. I say that because we’re all born into the same world. For the most part, we see the same things, we learn the same things, we do the same things…we just do it at different times and in different ways. And I know that some people have it really hard. I know that there are babies and kids that are born into a living hell of abuse and crime and drugs…and I know that it’s different for them, I do. But I also think that despite where you come from or how bad of a childhood you may have had…you still know right from wrong. Bad things happen to everyone…no matter who you are or what neighborhood you’re from. No one’s immune to the evil that exists everywhere in the world. No one. So for people to claim that it was the shitty childhood they had that made them kill or rape or hurt, or that they weren’t loved enough…no. I’m sorry, but I don’t accept it. It’s an excuse…and a pitiful one at that. Which is probably why I’m not a judge or a lawyer…well that, and because I think the whole legal system in this country is an absolute joke…but it’s mostly the former. I think that people who are evil…are born evil. Like the murdering jerk in Newtown…he was evil. I find it so ridiculous and frustrating how these so-called medical experts are trying to play it off like he was sick or mentally unhinged or something of the sort. What’s even more ridiculous is how many people ACTUALLY believe it and are buying into it. They’re sheep, that’s what they are, if you ask me…totally oblivious to the fact that those so-called “experts” have an agenda all their own. One that I’m pretty certain has absolutely nothing to do with what happened in that school or with the gunman at all, none whatsoever. They’ve said it themselves in the interviews and on the news…they want to put a face on mental illness…and that’s exactly the opportunity that gunman gave them. It’s ridiculous. I mean, from what I’ve heard and read, it doesn’t sound like people have a clue really as to what was going through that psycho’s mind or who he was, even. They’ve thrown around labels like “loner” and “social outcast” and “geek”…but that’s all they are…just words. So basically… he was quiet and withdrawn and didn’t have many friends. Okay…um, that pretty much describes half the adolescent population in this country. You don’t see all of THEM waking up one morning, shooting their mothers in the face while they sleep, then go shoot up an elementary school and take their “rage” out against a bunch of first-graders. I mean, it just doesn’t happen. Good people don’t do that. I’m not saying that good people are perfect and are incapable of doing anything wrong. I’m just saying that THAT kind of evil…it doesn’t come from at some slasher website or violent TV show or some stupid video game. I don’t care what people say or what some shrink with some fancy Ph. D’s hanging on his or her office wall thinks…it’s just not true.

Okay, so the gunman was depressed. Big freaking deal. Who isn’t, at some point or another in their life? So he got picked on by the popular kids…again, big freaking deal. It’s high school. You want to get revenge and put them in their place…go for it. Go to MIT or somewhere, get a degree, write a computer program or sell an idea for millions…then go back for your reunion and rub it in the faces of all those washed-up jocks that did nothing with their lives and their used-up cheerleader then girlfriend/now wives that work in some dive or are cashiers at local supermarket. Do that. You want to make a name for yourself in the history books? Run for President or something. Hell, if you’re that unhappy or you feel your life isn’t worth living…here’s an idea…kill yourself. I’m sorry, I know that’s probably a horrible thing to say and granted, suicide isn’t really the answer (or shouldn’t be, I should say) but come on. I’m sure I’m not the only one in the world who feels like this about that gunman. Granted, I don’t have all the facts and I don’t know what incited him to do what he did…but whatever it was, it doesn’t excuse or justify his actions that day. It just doesn’t. And those shrinks that are trying to defend his behavior by painting him a victim in the name of mental illness–well to put it bluntly–they’re just plain idiots. He was no victim. He was a cold-blooded, ruthless coward and murderer. To say anything less than that is just an insult to all the REAL victims of that senseless tragedy that day. He was sick, yes…deranged even, but he wasn’t irrational or unaware of his actions. His actions were deliberate and planned, despite what has been and is being said to the contrary. He wasn’t a child. He was a 20-year-old man. An adult. He knew right from wrong and he knew what would happen and the consequences he’d have to face if he were caught and taken into custody alive…and that’s why he killed himself. I know it and so does anyone else with half a brain and a conscience. Personally, I think the whole investigation into the shooting is a waste of time, I really do. I know the police have to do it and that its their job, but honestly, it’s a waste. They can sift through boxes of evidence and photos and crime scene reports…they can go through his hard drive and computer records and retrace every internet site he visit he visited, every keystroke…but to what end? This isn’t a puzzle. It’s not a mystery to solve. I know people want answers and that they truly believe that having them will provide them with some sense of closure or something. But there are no answers for this kind of thing. There’s just right and wrong. Good and evil. That man…the gunman–he was evil. It’s that simple.

Anyhow, I totally got side-tracked there with my good and evil rant. In getting back to religion and all that mumbo-jumbo stuff…I don’t know what I believe. What TO believe, I should say. I wish it were that simple sometimes. That I could draw some kind of comfort from knowing that there’s something more out there–some higher power, so to speak. I see people who are so devout, and so certain of their faith, and just so sure of everything really…and sometimes I wish I could be like that–to have that kind of certainty. That strength, almost. I grew up in church. I was raised a Christian–to believe in God and the “power of prayer” and all that. But then I actually grew up and realized that it’s not that black and white. That it’s just not that simple. People think it is, but it’s not. I mean, how do you believe in a loving God when there’s so much evil in the world? When good, innocent people and children are suffering and dying each and every day? I read Brandi’s page and all the comments people leave about how they’re praying for Lena and how they just know it’ll be okay and sometimes…sometimes it just makes me so mad, you know? Not at the people themselves, because they’re just holding on to hope and the thought of it not being okay is unfathomable, but mad at religion and at this “God” of theirs. I mean it’s not prayers that are going to save Lena. She needs a cure. A medical miracle. Something. I just don’t understand it. I mean, I look at her–this beautiful little girl who is in so much pain and going through absolute hell–AGAIN–and I just can’t understand how anyone could believe in or put their faith in a God that would let something like this happen to a little girl like Lena, or any child for that matter. It just doesn’t seem right. Maybe it’s wrong for me to say that or to discount everything I was raised to believe, but that’s how I feel.

I don’t know if there’s a heaven or a hell or any kind of afterlife, for that matter. I’d like to think that there is. I mean, I’d like to think that there’s more to life than just living and dying. I think everyone wants to believe that, that way maybe death isn’t so final or as scary. Maybe I’m weird. Maybe I’m crazy. I don’t know. But for some reason, death doesn’t scare me. My death, that is. I’m not afraid of dying. To be honest, I think I’m more afraid of living…especially in the world we live in now. I don’t know. It drives my family crazy when I talk about it and how I’m not afraid of it. I guess I just don’t see why it has to be so scary. I mean, we live, we die…it’s going to happen…so why not just accept it? That’s not to say that I want to die tomorrow or anything, because of course I don’t. There’s still so much I want to do and places I want to go. I haven’t really lived yet and I want to. But life is short, as we all know, and anything can happen. As for an afterlife…I’m not sure if I buy the whole heaven or hell…Pearly Rates or Ring of Fire thing. Personally, if I had to choose…I think I’ll go with neither. I’m not really into the whole “for eternity” thing or wearing white or halos. I’m not too big on fire or heat or horns either, so Hell’s out, too I guess. But…I wouldn’t mind doing the whole ghost thing for awhile…you know, sticking around, haunting people…driving people crazy. Now that’s the kind of afterlife I’d probably enjoy, for a little while anyhow…until I get bored.

Speaking of ghosts…I totally have one. And no, I’m not crazy. I mean, if people can believe in a God that they can’t see or hear or prove for a fact that he/she exists…then what’s so wrong about believing in ghosts? I mean, it’s only fair, right? Either way, it’s true. Ghosts DO exist. And I’m not talking about Paranormal or some Hollywood hype whatever. My ghost….I named him Casper by the way…has been pretty friendly, for the most part. Not eyes glowing creepy or scary or anything like that. I don’t really know how to describe him really (or if he’s a HE per-se…I just really wanted to call him Casper and wouldn’t work for a girl ghost so I call him a HE). He doesn’t talk. But then, I guess if he did then this would be a whole other issue of crazy, wouldn’t it? Anyhow…I’ve only seen him at night and even then, it’s not “seeing” really…more like that feeling you get when you know you’re not alone in a room…it’s more like that. And it’s weird, but I almost want to say that he seems sad. I don’t know…it’s hard to explain. Anyhow, he’s been a friendly “ghost”…up until last weekend when I woke up with these nasty dig-like scratches and bruises on one of my arms…and no clue whatsoever where they came from. Considering my horrible habit of biting my nails–which, yeah I really need to stop–there’s no way my nails did it. I mean, anything’s possible, right? So yeah, I guess maybe my nails grew magically overnight and maybe I had an awesome catfight in my dreams and just don’t remember it–you never knew. I think the more logical conclusion–despite evidence to the contrary–is that my nice little ghost decided to be not-so-friendly…who knows. Either way, I have a ghost. His (or Her) name is Casper. And it’s awesome. Well…it beats magical nails and catfight dreams any day. Haha. On that note–although I could probably talk about this kind of stuff for hours. And don’t even get me started on Wicca because I could talk about THAT for days…spells, tarot…great stuff. I swear sometimes, I think I must have been a Salem Witch in another life or something. Uh oh…isn’t the past lives/reincarnation stuff Buddhist-centric? I think so. I always get that and Judaism screwed up. Oh well, I think reincarnation is freaking awesome. It’s a fascinating thought–the possibility of having lived all these other lives…so much cooler than a time machine. Also, according to my grams, Wicca and witchcraft are Satanic and therefore it’s bad. She calls it “the Devil’s work.” But then again, she says the same about Halloween and trick-or-treating (apparently kids wearing costumes and getting candy is somehow immoral…who the heck knows with her. The woman isn’t too logical sometimes, so I take most of what she says with a grain of salt. If she can have Jesus and God, then I get to have my spells and tarot cards. It’s only fair. Just between us, part of me hopes that she and all the other believers are wrong and there is no God. I mainly say that because if there is–well then, I’m totally screwed. Hell, I think I’ve already broken half of the “10 Commandments”, just in this post alone. Oops. Oh well.

Anyhow, that’s enough blogging for the night for me….too much actually, considering my really sucks elbow injury from last night when I slipped and fell on it in the parking lot of a store. I got myself banged up quite nicely this time–thanks to my wonderful klutzy ways. Technically, I’m supposed to be wearing a sling and not moving my arm alot…so typing–probably not the best thing to be doing right now, but I hate slings. Luckily the great pain meds I’m on make it much, much easier. I’m feeling realllllllly good right now. And sleepy…nite!


PS: The proof that it’s not all in my head. 🙂 So there. Ha.

Perfectly Content In My Quiet Reverie…

Since I haven’t done a lyrics post in a while, so I thought I’d do one tonight…

Those who know me can pretty much attest to the fact that I’m not a big fan of watching TV…at all. Personally, I think it’s probably my undiagnosed ADD or something…in that I can’t stand sitting still in one place for too long. Come to think of it, I guess that would explain why my head is all over the place most of the time. J I think the only real downside to my aversion with television is that it leaves me out of the loop in regards to what’s new in the film and TV industry. Most of the time, I can’t even tell you what’s playing in theaters—no TV means no movie trailers. To be honest, not being in the loop of things doesn’t really bother me—unlike some people. The celebrity and Hollywood hype doesn’t interest me. I’ve never really understood why society puts so much emphasis on the status’ if celebrities. I mean, they’re just people—people that well-paid and overly glorified maybe—but just people, nevertheless. I give them props though—the actors and actresses and artists and other celebrities. From where I’m standing, their jobs are some of the hardest. Personally, you couldn’t pay me enough to do what they do. I don’t think people realize that all that fame and glory—it all comes with a price, just like everything else. I don’t know how they do it…having no privacy and having their entire lives put on display for the whole world to see—people that are just waiting criticize and pick ever little detail of their lives apart. People that are just waiting for them to make a mistake…to find any kind of fault in them. I’d hate to live like that—having nothing sacred. I’m a pretty private person, for the most part. I don’t like people knowing my business or judging/criticizing the way I live my life. I don’t like being in the spotlight or having all the attention…not at all. Maybe I’m weird, but I don’t want my 15 minutes of fame or millions of dollars, I really don’t. From what I’ve seen, nothing good comes from having all that money or the fame. Money doesn’t buy happiness, contrary to what people may think. Ultimately, I think it destroys a lot of people. Maybe I am crazy for saying this, but I’d rather be poor and not-known and happy…rather than rich and reckless and unhappy. But that’s just me. Anyways…moving on and getting back to my original point…

I also think it might have something to do with how I was raised. These days, I think we can agree that TV has become a baby-sitter of sorts for the majority of youth in this country– maybe even the world. But it wasn’t like that for me or my siblings. When I was younger, we lived a little ways out of town in the country with a big backyard and wide open fields all around us. We were always outside playing…come rain or shine and hot or cold…it didn’t matter. We played barefoot outside in thunderstorms, jumped in rain puddles, built awesome snow forts, made mud-pies, and drove my grams crazy with the amount of dirt we accumulated on ourselves, our clothes, and our shoes…the majority of which we tracked inside the house. In the summer, we had crab apple fights and trekked almost daily to this creek a couple miles up the road where we splashed around and went swimming and collected ridiculous amounts of clay and rocks, along with an absurd collection of various so-called “treasures” that we hid in our pockets and snuck back home with us. It was a great childhood as far as I’m concerned. One that I wouldn’t trade for anything. Honestly, I feel sorry for these younger generations that are missing out on the kind of childhood we had…that a kid SHOULD have. But the world is a very different place now than it was then. These days, kids aren’t even safe playing in their own yards, let alone walking down a public street. It’s a shame. It really is.

So yeah, I can pretty much count the number of TV shows that I’ve watched religiously on ONE hand, believe it or not. For starters, there was the soap General Hospital. I was addicted to that for a couple of my pre-teen years, mostly just because it was totally inappropriate for my age and so I of course, had to watch it. Then there was Gilmore Girls…loved that show. My sister and I started watching it when it first started and it sort of became this cute little routine we had every week. Even when she left for college, I remember when 8 o’clock rolled around on Tuesday, I’d be waiting by the phone for her phone call and we’d sing the theme song together—over the phone. I know, it’s kind of corny…but it was sort of our thing. Sisterly bonding…or something of the sort. Anyhow, then there was The Hills, which the bestie and I started watching back when we had a place together….waaaayy back when. And lastly, there’s One Tree Hill. I watched the show religiously in my teens for a couple of seasons, then college and life got in the way and I stopped. Then this amazing thing called Netflix came out and long story short…I got re-addicted and eventually caught up on the 5 or so seasons I missed. It was such a cute show…kind of like Dawson’s Creek, only with GOOD acting (haha)…but no really, it was sweet. And the best part—other than a shirtless James Lafferty (haha)—is that the show was centered a lot around music. All the episode titles are actually lines from a song or a title of one, which is neat, I think. My love for punk rock and indie music—definitely owe that to the show. Not only were the episode scores great…but the show introduced a lot of really great otherwise-unknown artists into the music scene…basically kicking off their careers for most of them. Artists like Gavin DeGraw and Tyler Hilton and bands like Fall Out Boy and Angels and Airwaves….and dozens of other really talented artists and bands. Kate Voegele …whose song happens to be my muse for tonight’s post… is one of those really talented artists from the show. I love love loveeee her music.

Here’s one of my favorites of hers…it’s a track called “Devil In Me”… (I prefer the acoustic version, but to each his own… 🙂

Far in the distance,
this is the view from the other side.
How did I let this pass me by?
You took me for granted,
and planted thorns in this garden of mine.
What are the chances?
My hope has died.
Please, have mercy.
You’ve unnerved me.
I don’t deserve this pain.

So don’t break my heart.
I ain’t never done nothing to deserve this.
And I’m torn apart.
You’ve had your fun.
Do you suppose I earned it?
Do you not see how I’m begging on my knees?
Don’t speak. Don’t breathe.
You bring out the devil in me, oh.

Been thinking it over…
Those were days dark as ebony nights.
The end of October felt like a lifetime.
I had a suspicion,
but I didn’t want to believe you a liar.
You had a mission to prove me right.
You took my trust.
Ground it to dust.
Found out I know better.

And I don’t wanna feel the pain.
I don’t want another day,
shackled to your ball and chain, no.
You’re entirely to blame.
An acquired misery.
All I can do is wait.

So I don’t have a prayer if there is no charity in your heart.
Couldn’t you spare me?
I’ve done my part.
So don’t break my heart.
I ain’t never done nothing to deserve this.
And I’m torn apart.
You’ve had your fun.
Do you suppose I earned it?
Did you not see, how I was begging on my knees?
No don’t speak, don’t breathe.
YOU bring out the devil–the devil in me…


Looking In The Rearview…

Well, they say bad things come in three’s…and I guess they’re right. So here I am preparing for this big confrontation with the bestie about NYC–and preparing to having to head down on my own, seeing how the situation with her and the “boyfriend” has changed and all–and now she drops the bomb that she’s thinking of making it a dual move–aka having him come along with us. Umm, yeah. Not really sure what I think of that, at the moment. I’m a little thrown…not going to lie. Is it wrong to say that I’m a little mad about it? I mean, I want her to be happy, I do. And I’m glad things are working out so well between them, I am. I’m just…I don’t know if I really want to do it THAT way. I mean, I want to go to New York City–that hasn’t changed–and I am going to go…maybe by the end of this week if the trip down tomorrow goes well and everything pans out accordingly.

But this wasn’t the plan. The plan was for her and I to go down. Well, technically the plan was for ME to go down and then we kind of got caught up in the idea of how fun it’d be if we both went down together…but you know what I mean. It’s not that I’m jealous or feeling third-wheelish about it…because well, let’s face it. It’s New York City. Rent-wise alone–the more, the merrier I say. I mean, for a little while there we were thinking of including our friend Ryan into the plan, so yeah…it’s not that at all. It has to do with the fact that I don’t know this guy. I haven’t even met him actually. She’s made plans for us all to meet and hang out–a few times actually–but things have been really crazy and those plans kind of fell through the cracks. So no, we haven’t met. I don’t know him. I mean, I know what she’s told me about him–and I’m sure he’s probably a really nice guy and whatnot…but it’s not the same. But to be perfectly honest–I’m not too sure how I feel about moving in with some strange guy…in New York City. Granted the chances of him turning out to be some crazy psycho ax-murderer that will kill me in my sleep and chop me up into tiny pieces are lower than someone from…but still…kind of creeps me out a little. I mean, seriously–how well can you really know a person in just a few months, you know? Hell, I “knew” what’s-his-name for almost 2 years and we all know how THAT turned out…and by that I’m referring to how, as it turned out, I didn’t know nearly as well as I thought I did. Actually, considering all that happened, it’s probably safe to say that I didn’t know him at all. But that’s kind of my point. I mean, you can think you really know a person…who they are, what you want them to be, what they want from you and out of life just in general…and then in the blink of eye, suddenly you’re sitting on opposite sides of a courtroom throwing insults and accusations at one another and trying to see who can hurt whom the most. Albeit that’s just me and my experience…it’s still a valid point, I think.

Speaking of, I think that’s actually part of the problem here and for why this is a little complicated….that our reasons for wanting to leaves (hers and mine) are so vastly different. She wants to go for her career…to start living her life. Don’t get me wrong, I want those things too, I really do…but there’s more to it than just that. Call me a coward, and well, I might very well be one. This is me running away. Yet again. I’m sorry, but it’s what I do. It’s what I’ve always done. And I know I should probably stop doing it, but that task is far easier said than done. I mean, I’m not going to just wake up one day and find that everything has magically been fixed. Or accept that the world isn’t as fucked up as I know it is. It doesn’t work that way. I can’t change what happened. Or what I’ve done. I can’t go back. I can’t change what I’ve seen or take back all the hurt that I’ve felt. I can’t change anything. And right now, it’s out of my control. I can’t do anything about it–all the betrayals and disappointment and having to learn the hard way who can and cannot be trusted. So in order to not have to feel the pain…I run away. So far, I’ve found that running away is far easier than staying. That it doesn’t hurt as much as if I do. So yes, I’m running away…because I have to. Because I need to. Because it’s safer this way. So yes, it’s different.

That having been said, I’m not really sure what’s going to happen now. And just when I thought I had it all figured out…wouldn’t you know…totally figures.


Dysfunction At It’s Best…

Okay, so I’m just a tad bit curious at the moment as to why it is that people seem to think they know me…and more specifically, that they know what’s BEST for me? I’m serious. I mean, I’m pretty sure that the last time I checked, that date on my birth certificate says that I’m 25 years old. Not 5 or 10 or 15…but 25. I’m not a child…and I’m sick and tired of being treated like one. I’m done letting people try to control me and tell me what to do. They’ve been doing it my whole life. I realize that as a child, it was for my own good. And that I needed it…as I was too young to know what I wanted or what was best for me. I needed the guidance and the sense of structure that they gave me. I needed them to hold my hand and to be there–to shelter and protect me from the big, bad real world and the horrible people in it. But there’s a difference between being protective and being OVER-protective–which is what they did. I’m just done. With them. With all of it. Just…done.

It’s not that I’m being ungrateful, because I am. It’s just that sometimes, I find myself resenting them for it…for being TOO protective. I know they had good intentions for doing it, but ultimately, I think they protected me from too much–which, in turn, left me so unprepared when it came time for me to go out into the world. They didn’t prepare me for what could happen or for what I would see. Nor did they prepare me for the hell I’d have to go through. Most importantly, they never prepared or warned me that it would be this hard. But it is. It’s so very hard. What happened that horrible night all those years ago–I wasn’t ready for it. Or prepared for it. For any of it. Until that night, I never knew the extent of the evil that exists in the world. I didn’t know that people could be so cruel or so cold. I was so naive then. Totally clueless. I had no idea that one wrong choice–one mistake–could end up changing my whole life or tearing my world apart…but it did. I wasn’t ready for it…but then again, I don’t think anyone is ever ready for something like that.I don’t blame them for what happened that night. I’m the one that chose to go there that night…to defy their rules. It was doing, not theirs. While I don’t blame them, I do feel as though they could have prepared me more for it, or at the very least, prepared me for how to get through it somehow.

That night changed everything, It changed me. I lost my innocence that night–in both the figurative and literal sense. I grew up that night, in so many ways. After that night, I realized something that they never taught me–which is that life wasn’t as black and white as they had led me to believe. To be honest, I’m not sure what hurt worse–the actual attack itself, or the aftermath that followed. Both were absolute hell though, I know that much. Not telling them what happened only made it worse, I think. That, albeit indirectly, I do blame them for. I couldn’t trust them…not when I’d just found out the hard way that everything they taught me–everything I thought I knew–was all a lie. I couldn’t tell them. After all, I was supposed to be the good girl–the girl with the perfect grades and perfect behavior…the puppet that did everything she was told and never broke the rules. They wanted me to be perfect. Expected me to be the best. And for some reason, I actually felt as though I had to be perfect for them….almost as if I owed them to be or something. In the end, I think that was my biggest downfall. Living my life according to their rules and expectations nearly destroyed me. It took me years to get past that night and even longer for me to realize that what they wanted for me–wasn’t want I wanted for myself. I realized that living life on their terms–wasn’t living at all. I was miserable and unhappy and weak. All my life, they’ve told me what to do and what not to do, what not to believe and what to believe, and how to feel. And all my life, I’ve let them do it…because I was too scared to stand up for and trust myself–and too worried about disappointing them or letting them down somehow. I took a long time, but I finally realized that it wasn’t about them…that no matter how hard I tried, it would never be enough for them–so I stopped trying to be and started living the way I wanted to. Maybe it’s selfish, but it’s my life and I’m sorry, but I won’t apologize for wanting to live it my way. I won’t do that. And granted, I know they mean well and all, but contrary to what they think, they don’t know everything about me. Nor do they don’t know what’s best for me. Maybe they did when I was younger, but they don’t know now.

I’m 25 years old and yet, they still treat me like a child. They’re still trying to control me…still trying to tell me how to live my life. Now, I’m done letting them do it. Just done. With them, with their near-impossible expectations…all of it. I’m done. Until now, I’ve just tried to ignore their interference. But lately, they’re making it nearly impossible for me to do that. At the moment, it has to do with my moving to NYC in the upcoming week or two. To be honest, it doesn’t have to NYC–it could be anything else…just as long as they have something to bitch about–something to fight with me about.

Speaking of the fighting, it’s gotten pretty bad over the last few years. Or so it seems to me, anyhow. It’s ridiculous. If it wasn’t frustrating as all hell–it might actually be funny. Entertaining, even. It’s like World War III in this family of mine. So much so that we could probably have our own reality TV show. Let’s just say that the way we go at one another…it makes the Osbornes look like angels. That’s the truth. I love my family, I do. But they don’t always make it easy to love them. They push you and push you until you crack under the strain and start to lose it completely–a fact that I know all too well, unfortunately. I mean, I know that all families are dysfunctional in some way or another. And yes, I know that families fight. But not like this…this is far worse. It’s really bad. Not a day goes by that someone (s) doesn’t start a fight. It’s almost as though they thrive on it. And while they might need it–I don’t. I don’t want or need the drama. I have plenty as it is already, believe me. It’s been this way for years…for way too damn long. I think people need to get over themselves and just grow up. The fighting…it’s all so childish, and most of the time completely unnecessary. So basically…it’s useless. It’s always the same routine, over and over. And to be honest, it’s getting old. It used to be amusing and now it’s simply just irritating and exhausting. If they want to know why I’m leaving…this, right here, that’s why. I don’t want to stick around for this–the fighting and getting pulled into the middle of it all, as usual, and well, I don’t want any part of it anymore. I’m done. Just…done.

And on that note….


Thoughts Aloud….

I’ve been losing my mind.
I’ve been living a lie.
I’ve been running away, for so long.
I try to put on a face.
And cover my heart.
But I’m needing it now, so bad.
I don’t know how I feel.
Maybe I’m mad.
Or maybe I’m proud.
I can’t find the truth.
I can’t speak my mind.
I don’t know what I’d say.
I’m just thinking out loud.
No, I can’t explain what’s happened to me.
I feel like I’m right, and wrong.
Inside, everything’s upside-down.
Everything’s spinning around,
and it’s freaking me out.
If only for a day, I could be free.
I bet you’d feel the same, if you were me.
I’m gonna spit it out.
And just let go.
I don’t know what I’d say.
I’m just thinking out loud… (Lesley Roy)


End To The Madness…

Oh. My. God. When will the madness end????? I was on Facebook earlier and came across something on a page that was set up for little Emilie Parker, one of the victims from the Sandy Hook shooting, that literally had me staring at the screen in absolute shock and disgust. It was a link in a comment, I think, that brings you to a page that essentially lists all these so-called “reasons/evidence” that supposedly prove that the shooting was a hoax. Now, I have nothing against conspiracy theorists…usually. I mean, people are welcome to believe what they want to believe. It’s a free world, after all. But seriously? It’s one thing to think that the whole “space exploration” and man walking on the moon was nothing but an elaborate governmental setup that was filmed in some “Area 51” sound stage somewhere…but to say–let alone actually think–that what happened in that elementary school that fateful day is all a hoax…that’s just…WRONG! I mean, people are sick. Really, really sick. To even suggest something like that…god, it’s so twisted and ridiculous and seriously messed up, that it’s not even funny. And to post it on a memorial page for a 6-year-old little girl that was MURDERED…that’s beyond disrespectful. It’s unforgivable. Hell, it’s unconscionable! Who does that? What kind of sick and twisted individual would do that? And it wasn’t just that one person’s post…there were others as well. To think that we live in a country, in a world, where people spend their days coming up with these conspiracy ideas and then use their contrived and illicit data to fill the heads of others with such trash…it’s unreal. It really and truly is.

People died that day. Innocent people. Twenty beautiful and completely innocent CHILDREN died that day. Shot to death in cold blood in a classroom, of all places. They didn’t ask for what happened to them. They didn’t deserve to die in such a cruel and horrible and completely senseless way. They woke up that morning, brushed their teeth, got dressed, had breakfast, and went to school. They said hello to their friends, their teachers, and sat down at their desks to listen to the morning’s announcements…just like any other day. They didn’t know what was happening or why. I mean, I read these interviews from the other teachers and staff that were in the school that day–how they heard the gunfire and immediately hid themselves. They understood what it meant. They knew the nightmare that was unfolding inside that school. But those kids…they didn’t know. I mean, how could they? A 6 or 7-year-old doesn’t know what gunfire sounds like. They shouldn’t know. They’re not supposed to. That’s the whole point…they’re innocent. Rather, they WERE innocent. The tragedy of that day wasn’t just that 26 lives were cut short…it was that twenty children lost their innocence, along with all the countless other children that were in that school that day. People are always saying how resilient kids are when it comes to things like death and loss–how quickly they are able to “bounce back” from such things. But something like this–it doesn’t fall within the parameters of the norm. This is in a category, all its own, I think. Sure, with counseling and time, most of those other children will heal and move past this and past what happened that day. They’ll move on, but they’ll never forget. They’ll carry the images and events from the day with them the rest of their lives. They too, lost their innocence that day. It’s not right and its sure as hell not fair, but that’s what happened. God, I can’t even imagine it…nor do I want to…what those children must have felt in those final, horrible moments…how terrified they must have been. I remember reading an article somewhere about how the teacher in one of the two rooms tried to save her kids by hiding them in closets and cupboards around the room and when the shooter came in, she tried telling him that the kids were some where else in the building. It went on to say that some of the kids got scared, came out of their hiding spots, and were killed as they tried to get away–despite the teacher’s heroic attempt to save them by using her own body as a human shield. I know the medical examiner stated in his official report that if the children did suffer, it wasn’t for long. I pray to God that was the case, but it just doesn’t seem like much of a consolation. They might not have suffered physically…but they suffered. My niece Emma is 7 years old, the same age as many of those young victims–so to think about a child the same age as her having to experience something like that–it’s unimaginable. What’s worse–if that’s even possible–is knowing that not only were their last moments spent in that terrifying hell, it was that sick bastard’s face they saw last, as well. That, to me, is ultimately the cruelest injustice in this whole thing…

That being said, I think it’s absolutely despicable what these naysayers and “hoax-criers” are doing. I also feel that Facebook should be doing more than what’s being done now…which isn’t much, if anything, if you ask me. Granted, the journalist in me is all for protecting the first amendment and freedom of speech…but that’s not what this is. This isn’t about public awareness or the right to express an opinion. This is a grievous abuse of social media, as well as to the first amendment. There’s a line…and these misguided individuals have long-since crossed it. If you ask me, its people like this that are why this world is so screwed up. People who take advantage of the freedoms they’ve been given…and in doing so, ruin it for the rest of us. These people have no morality, no conscience. If they did, they wouldn’t be spreading these vicious rumors or making these atrocious accusations. They wouldn’t be disrespecting the memory of those victims by saying such horrible things and posting their nonsense. They wouldn’t be going around trying to discredit the hell those young victims and those six women went through that day. It’s just not right. Those victims don’t deserve to have their deaths be considered as being in vain. They deserve more. They deserve respect.

I’m sorry for venting like this, but I just can’t wrap my head around this. I can’t for the life of me understand how someone could do this and call it a hoax. It’s sick. By their logic, the government made this up. That reasoning alone makes the suggestion itself completely outrageous. It doesn’t even make sense. I mean, what could the government possibly hope to gain or achieve by making something like this up? There’s nothing…because there IS nothing to be gained. It’s disheartening to think that we live in a world and a society that could condone something like this. That people are so sick and twisted that they’d spread such drivel and not only prey on the memory of innocent victims, but on the suffering of the families of those victims as well. It’s just so wrong, on so many levels. I guess my only consolation in all of this, is that I believe in the power of Karma…that what goes around, comes back around. One of these days, these people are going to wake up and step out of their little conspiracy bubbles and realize their ignorance. They’ll have to face the ramifications of their words and their beliefs. One day, they too are going to find themselves in a state of despair and suffering. I wonder…what will they do then…


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