I'm staring at your picture right now. Looking into your eyes, looking at your goofy smile and the way you cock your head to the side while you laugh. How I admired you. How funny I thought you were, how witty, how clever. And also, how kind.
I'm trying to see through it all. I'm trying to see a clue to what you really were. What you really are. How could I have missed something so blatantly obvious? How could I see you each week and not know the evil that waited under the surface.
You laugh at me from the picture. You fooled me, hurt me, humiliated me, and you know it. You're proud about it. And I hate you for that.
I hate you for a lot of things.
So many things and so much hate in fact, that my heart refuses to hold it.
I am forced to let go. Forced to forgive you. Forced to look past your wicked smile, your sharp teeth prepared to tear into innocent flesh, your eyes of smoke and mirrors.
And I see a sad, sad, sad little boy.
I cry for you. I cry for you, and what you did to me. You could have possibly taken away my future, everything I hold dear. I could lose it all, just by the choice you made. But I cry for you.
I'm staring at your picture right now. And I no longer see rage, fear, sadness.
I just see a picture.
It's just a picture.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Back To Basics
This blog used to be an outlet for me. A place to rant and rave and let out the anger that builds inside me at times. A place to find solace through writing and steer myself back on course.
I keep getting further and further away from peace, it seems. Soma. My gram of soma is a call back to Huxley's novel "A Brave New World." Soma was the pill they would ingest to negate feelings of guilt and anxiety. Instead of learning to deal with pain, they chose to ignore it.
I choose to ignore a lot of things I don't want to deal with. Things that happened in my past, things happening in my present. And the more I attempt to ignore, the more the anger and sadness and mistrust fills my mind.
I am trying to remind myself of the beginning of this blog. The blog I began in 2004 that is no more, lost to the oblivion of the internet. That same Lenina, Amanda, has to be there.
Doesn't she?
I keep getting further and further away from peace, it seems. Soma. My gram of soma is a call back to Huxley's novel "A Brave New World." Soma was the pill they would ingest to negate feelings of guilt and anxiety. Instead of learning to deal with pain, they chose to ignore it.
I choose to ignore a lot of things I don't want to deal with. Things that happened in my past, things happening in my present. And the more I attempt to ignore, the more the anger and sadness and mistrust fills my mind.
I am trying to remind myself of the beginning of this blog. The blog I began in 2004 that is no more, lost to the oblivion of the internet. That same Lenina, Amanda, has to be there.
Doesn't she?
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Tears Follow Me
My brother's birthday was this week. The little booger turned 21, and is freaking excited he can finally go into bars and drink legally. In fact, he is coming to stay with me tonight, and we're going to hit up some hot spots in Nashvegas.
On Monday night, we had a little family party for him, complete with cheesecake for his birthday dessert. He doesn't really care for actual cake. But cheesecake, he could eat an entire one all by himself. We also had him a bunch of presents. I of course got him a bottle of vodka, his favorite liquor.
Grandma came that night, also. And when he unwrapped the present she gave him, we all began to cry. Inside was a simple wooden jewelry box containing an old beat up belt buckle and a pipe.
We are not a complete family anymore. Papa passed away in 2008 after a short illness that took his mind from us first. We are close knit. We love each other dearly, and we all live less than a mile away from each other. When Papa died, we were all heartbroken, and although its been over two years now, there are still moments when we are all together that we reminisce and begin to cry.
The jewelry box was his. The pipe was the one he had forever, but only smoked once. The belt buckle was the one he wore to church every Sunday, and nowhere else. When Matt (brother dear) opened the box, Papa's smell of Old Spice filled the room, and it felt like he was there in the room with us.
My brother is around 6' 4", and weighs around 280 pounds. To see tears dripping down his face is not a common occurrence. Which made all the rest of us cry even harder. And when he said "Thank you" to grandma, it was so heartfelt.
Although it was a moment of sadness and happiness in remembering the dearest man on earth to me, next to my daddy and Patrick, it is a memory I will always cherish. My family is one full of love for each other. We may mess up and make mistakes, but we will always be there for each other.
Happy birthday, kiddo. Love you.
On Monday night, we had a little family party for him, complete with cheesecake for his birthday dessert. He doesn't really care for actual cake. But cheesecake, he could eat an entire one all by himself. We also had him a bunch of presents. I of course got him a bottle of vodka, his favorite liquor.
Grandma came that night, also. And when he unwrapped the present she gave him, we all began to cry. Inside was a simple wooden jewelry box containing an old beat up belt buckle and a pipe.
We are not a complete family anymore. Papa passed away in 2008 after a short illness that took his mind from us first. We are close knit. We love each other dearly, and we all live less than a mile away from each other. When Papa died, we were all heartbroken, and although its been over two years now, there are still moments when we are all together that we reminisce and begin to cry.
The jewelry box was his. The pipe was the one he had forever, but only smoked once. The belt buckle was the one he wore to church every Sunday, and nowhere else. When Matt (brother dear) opened the box, Papa's smell of Old Spice filled the room, and it felt like he was there in the room with us.
My brother is around 6' 4", and weighs around 280 pounds. To see tears dripping down his face is not a common occurrence. Which made all the rest of us cry even harder. And when he said "Thank you" to grandma, it was so heartfelt.
Although it was a moment of sadness and happiness in remembering the dearest man on earth to me, next to my daddy and Patrick, it is a memory I will always cherish. My family is one full of love for each other. We may mess up and make mistakes, but we will always be there for each other.
Happy birthday, kiddo. Love you.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Not Pregnant
I get the weirdest looks from people all the time for one of my favorite sandwiches. It is not your "normal" sandwich, although the person who gets to judge what is normal in this life does not always coincide with my own thoughts on normalcy.
The sandwich in question (which I am happily munching on right now) is pickle, lettuce, and pretzel with a drizzle of dijon mustard.
See, I told you. I see the looks out there. Except for you, making the yummy face. You get ten points.
It is a strange concoction, I will admit. But to me, the tangy and crunchy makes my taste buds happy. Adding cucumber is also a refreshing treat, but alas, no cucumbers in my kitchen today.
Weird sandwiches has been passed down to me, though. My dad's favorite sandwich was peanut butter and mayonnaise. When mom was too busy or had to go in to work early, dad would be in charge of making our breakfasts. And more likely than not, he would be slathering up the bread with PB and Mayo to put on our plates, and a huge glass of ice cold milk to wash it down.
It's actually really tasty. Don't knock it until you've tried it.
Another good one is peanut butter and jelly with sour cream and onion chips in the middle.
When you think about it, I'm sure everyone has some weird food concoction that they think is just mouth watering, but everyone else warily stares it down. As if it will jump off their friend's plate and try to scurry down their throat, gags aplenty.
So what is yours? I'm all ears.
The sandwich in question (which I am happily munching on right now) is pickle, lettuce, and pretzel with a drizzle of dijon mustard.
See, I told you. I see the looks out there. Except for you, making the yummy face. You get ten points.
It is a strange concoction, I will admit. But to me, the tangy and crunchy makes my taste buds happy. Adding cucumber is also a refreshing treat, but alas, no cucumbers in my kitchen today.
Weird sandwiches has been passed down to me, though. My dad's favorite sandwich was peanut butter and mayonnaise. When mom was too busy or had to go in to work early, dad would be in charge of making our breakfasts. And more likely than not, he would be slathering up the bread with PB and Mayo to put on our plates, and a huge glass of ice cold milk to wash it down.
It's actually really tasty. Don't knock it until you've tried it.
Another good one is peanut butter and jelly with sour cream and onion chips in the middle.
When you think about it, I'm sure everyone has some weird food concoction that they think is just mouth watering, but everyone else warily stares it down. As if it will jump off their friend's plate and try to scurry down their throat, gags aplenty.
So what is yours? I'm all ears.
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