November 18, 2014

Jet lag misery

For some reason I value friendships with more value than family. I think it’s because that friends choose to be in your life whereas family is stuck with you whether they like you or not. It could also be because I’ve never felt as though I belonged in my family. Although I’m beginning to think everyone feels that way, or at least in my family. We’re just a herd of black sheep.

One of my biggest problems growing up is when I make friends I want them to get to know my other friends so we can all be one big groups of companions. What inevitably ends up happening is that these two friends will find themselves way more compatible without me there and they end up doing things without me. It’s happened countless times over my life and it makes me overly cautious. Yet even still I introduce my friends and the same thing occurs. I just never learn.

My husband thinks that how I’m reacting to the current friends doing the same is somehow proof that I care more about them than him, and it’s just not the case. And I wish there was a way I could convey that, but even when I explain my reasoning it doesn’t sink in.

What’s amazing is I found someone with just as little self esteem as myself. And one would think that would mean I would immediately know how to tread these waters, but I don’t.

In the end all I can think is that these friends will do what all the others have done. I guess my husband is right, I expect entirely too much from people. I need to lower the bar to a point where maybe rainwater can get in. Otherwise the only person’s opinion that matters is my husbands. I don’t want him to get hurt…

I get so wrapped up in my own emotions that I forget that another person requires love and affection. God, I’m so selfish sometimes.

November 18, 2014

Night time epiphany

So I have returned from the most fantastic two weeks in London and I feel I have returned a different man. I can’t quite put my finger on it but I feel unlike the boy that had gone. Maybe it’s because while I was there I got another year older or possibly I just changed.

For the first time in a long while I feel that I have once again come to my path of destiny. It is calling me and I must heed it’s song. When I say this I mean my want and desire to be a published writer. During the course of my trip I took a sojourn to the grave site of my hero and since then I feel that I have gained something very significant. Again, I don’t quite know what it is yet but I can feel it in my heart.

I am not meant for this town. I am not meant for this mundane existence of work. I know that I have something far greater waiting in the wings. The only thing is I have to seize it. Just saying these things will not achieve them. I have to work for them. I have to be confident in myself and what I can do.

By this time next year I will be done with my book. I know I will.

November 14, 2014

I’m so sick of hearing/reading “it’s against my religious beliefs.” Fuck you.

I’m broken. I know I am. I have this absolute need to be completely accepted and loved/liked by everyone. The thing I know but have yet to grasp is that will not under any circumstance happen. It’s impossible. And whether they like me or not does not guarantee I will like them in return and I probably won’t. (Just kidding.)(maybe)

I bring this up cause last weeks topic for my Human Sexuality class was about the LGBT community. And per usual we were required to have a “discussion” on the weeks topic, which consists of listing the required media and our personal views on the topic. Let’s just say the posts were… Uh… Well, they were colorful. They brought up a time in my life that made me more miserable than I care to mention. But it was because of my undying need to be loved and accepted by everyone.

I broke down and responded to one of the hate filled posts. I know I shouldn’t have but… Fuck it was like someone punched me in the gut it was just so hateful! It’s amazing how behind a keyboard and people can and will say anything. I find it impossible to believe that these same people would have made these comments in an actual classroom. In fact I think they would have said nothing. You know why? They’d be embarrassed because in some corner of themselves they know they’re full of shit and an all around terrible person.

November 4, 2014

Cemetery Birthday Bash

This is the last birthday of my twenties. In just one more year and it’s all down hill. To get the ball rolling the common theme of this years trip to London has bee death and the after life. For instance I went on a ghost walking tour of London and that was exciting and today I went tromping through a grave yard in the pitch of night, but let me explain.

The man I claim for my want and desire to be a writer is C. S. Lewis. After I read “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe” in the third grade I’ve wanted to be an author. Since then I’ve read all of the Chronicles of Narnia and some of his religious studies but… Those are not my cup of tea considering I’m an atheist. (Haven’t always been.) Regardless of my dogmatic views I value the man more than anything. So for my birthday I wanted to take a day trip to Oxford. It’s where Lewis studied, taught, and lived. We went on a bus tour which was lovely up until it began to rain. To escape the wet weather I forced my husband into the shelter of Blackwells book shop where I bought a journal he swears will sit unused and two autobiographies I can’t get in the states. I had intended to buy another copy of “the lion…” But my husband asked “how many copies would that make?” “4.” Yes that’s excessive but it was purchased in Oxford! Whatever.

Finally I ate dinner at the pub he, Tolkien, and others of the Inklings met every Tuesday to discuss their literary works. And serendipitously it just so happens to be Tuesday. And to top it a off, the table I chose at random was 12, which holds no significant meaning to Lewis as it does to me. (It’s my lucky number.) After our meal I was ready to go. It was getting dark and my plan to visit his grave seemed like a pipe dream. So, I accepted the pub visit to be it, but my husband attempting to make my birthday special offered to walk to the cemetery where he had been buried. I warned him that it would be a long trip but he assured me that it’d be fine.

Before we had gotten even a quarter of the way there it was night, since it gets dark at 4:30 in the United Kingdom. Fun. And hoofing it at our quickest speed wasn’t cutting it so luckily we caught a cabby and he took us to the Holy Trinity churchyard. He dropped us off and backed out the long single lane drive.

Using the light of my phone we searched the cemetery reading every headstone. After going to every single market it wound up being the final one. Isn’t that typical? I said a few silent words thanking the man for giving me a dream and held back the tears. There’s nothing more than my husband loves than to see me cry. He’s a freak. (Says the guy who wanted to spend his birthday in a cemetery searching for the grave of a man he never met.)

At the end of it we are both exhausted, but it was fantastic and a trip I won’t soon forget.