Surprise Somethings

The Real Neat Blog Award & Premio Dardos  Bloggers Award  I have been splattering my brains against the page for most of my life. Between health issues and my family I have not been making time for myself to write for the last few years. It wasn’t until recently I felt I was cognitively clear enough to write anything… that made sense to anyone outside of my head. I’ve had a few snippets of time over the last week or two and have given myself some “me time” to figure out what I’m thinking. It was like a light turned on. Something in me clicked and the gears started turning and it was like my emotions were flowing again instead of building up to bursting and erupting all over whatever I was doing.

There are a lot of quirks to my personality, a lot of dysfunction brought about by upbringing or PTSD or whatever you want to label it. I am very affected by my environment. I’m one of those hypersensitive personalities that will be crying because you’re upset even though you’re not upset enough to cry yourself. It’s exhausting,  can be hard to control, and probably makes me sound a little crazy. I’m good with that. I’m me. And I am who I am and what I am for my own sake and for the sakes of those I love and who have loved me. Yay, I’m okay with that.

One of those quirks I mentioned? I have a hard time accepting compliments, but I would like to thank holesinmysocks for nominating me for these awards. In acceptance of this nomination I have to answer seven questions of holesinmysocks choosing:

Rules for The Real Neat Blog Award:

1) Put the award logo on your blog.
2) Answer 7 questions asked by the person who nominated you.
3) Thank the person who nominated you, linking to their blog.
4) Nominate any number of bloggers you like, linking to their blogs.
5) Let them know you nominated them (by commenting on their blog etc.)

1. Stranded on an island, name the three things you would bring.

Three things… I don’t suppose I could list my husband among those, could I? No? Dammit… Okay, here goes. As I have no idea what kind of island I’ve happened upon my first order of business would be clean drinking water or making water drinkable, so, some sort of water filtration system for those first few… whatever (days, weeks, months, and so on), maybe one like HYDRAID, Secondly, a knife, and I don’t mean like a kitchen butcher knife, I mean a Crocodile Dundee “That’s not a knife, this is a knife” kind of knife. Thirdly, probably something to keep me warm while I sleep, such as one of those sleeping bags that can withstand up to -30 degrees. (I suppose I should have listed a helicopter, fuel, and a cellphone, but that was just too easy. 😉 )

2. You’re favorite movie of all time….

That’s a hard one. The Dark Crystal had a huge impact on me as a kid, but so did The Never Ending Story… I’m  gonna say the latter. I was always a bit of a… darker… child and that film really spoke to me and so many emotions I went through so often. It was but one of many factors that reinforced in my heart and soul that I should always strive to do what is right and not what is easy even, and perhaps especially, if it seems a lost cause.

3. The one thing that makes you the happiest…

This is a difficult question as so many people confuse happiness and joy. What makes me happy, temporarily lifts my spirits? Life; my kids, my husband, the wind dancing through the leaves at lunchtime, or the birds singing us to sleep each night and waking us each morning. Joy? My faith that no matter what happens there is something better. I may not know where, when, how, or why it is finally revealed or re-revealed to me, but it is out there. Sometimes I catch glimpses of it in my children’s eyes, sometimes I feel it tugging at me from just beyond the lonely ocean horizon, but it always keeps me searching for I am a curious creature by nature and I am not seeking a destination but instead a journey.

4. The one song on your playlist…ipod…laptop…computer…that you are embarrassed to have but secretly love..

I can’t say any of my song choices are secrets, I pretty much wear my heart and soul right out there on my sleeve, so to speak. If I have an opinion I have no issues making it known. But embarrassed? Well… lol… *sigh* probably “Timber” by Pitbull and featuring Kei$ha (not sure if I spelled that right). Not normally the type of artists I would want to support but my husband introduced me to the song and there are too many fond memories with that as the soundtrack now.

5. Why you decided to become a blogger…

I’m not sure I ever really decided to become a blogger, per se. My boyfriend at the time for me involved with Xanga over a decade ago because that was the popular thing to do with his friends. When Xanga closed down a bunch of “us” switched over to WordPress or tried to hang on through the glitches of Xanga 2.0, so here I am, displaced. I’ve been writing and or drawing my emotions out since I can remember. I have journals upon journals. A blog was just another journal amid my ever growing library.

6. If you could live the life of someone famous for a day…who would it be?

I cannot imagine I would enjoy many of the “famous” options… the historical ones are usually famous for how tragic things were whereas the present day options are all watched under a microscope. You know, I’m gonna say J. K. Rowling. Who wouldn’t want to spend a day with family and seeing how another writer’s mind works from the inside?

7. Name one thing on your “bucket” list….

To LEAVE. I have never been outside of U.S. borders except for a short stint at Niagara Falls as an infant. I wanted to see the world as a kid. I wanted to experience other cultures and other foods, to understand why people think, believe, and do the things they do. I wanted to connect. With what I couldn’t even tell you, but there is a draw to adventuring I simply cannot resist.

My questions to you, fellow nominee(s) are as follows:

  1. What experience has impacted your life the most?
  2. Why do you write and in your chosen style?
  3. Google the emotional combination you’re feeling right now and post the image that best speaks to you from the results.
  4. If money were no object, what would you choose as your occupation?
  5. If you could live anywhere but where you are living now, where would it be?
  6. If you woke up with amnesia, what would make you happy?
  7. What is your favorite sweet and why?

Rules for The Premio Dardos Bloggers Award:

1. When you accept the award, post it on your blog along with the name of the person who nominated you and put a link to their blog.
2. Include the image of the award in your post.
3. Pass it on to 15 other bloggers worthy of this acknowledgement.

I think I accomplished all of this above with the other award except for my own nominees.

Ladies and Gents, I give you your next nominees:

https://buddy71.wordpress.com

https://ordinarybutloud.wordpress.com

https://delicatelie.wordpress.com

http://stonecityblog.com

https://myxldove.wordpress.com

https://lonelywanderer2.wordpress.com

And… honestly, those are about the only blogs I’m reading/I know who are active right now. I literally just picked up starting to blog again this week and am kind of at a lost. I can always come back and update the list, I suppose… which seems tacky… but I’ll do it anyways because I know it’ll make someone’s day the way it made mine. 🙂

Restless

Walking in shadows cast
by shadows of a haunting past
where memories are threadings cast
from their spindles by the blast
of selfishness that surpassed
the experiences amassed,
all pale in the contrast
of the first to the last.


Another one of my older pieces.

Poison

Lover, let me touch your lips
Caress and break away
Brush away binding wisps
Of regretful yesterday
To raise your eyes my own
And show you’re not alone

Suitor, taste sweet of me which
Lingers still upon your tongue
Light and yet so rich
So swift a kiss that it stung
Such a slow, creeping toll
Of a poison into your soul

Darling, feel the toxin begin to burn
Through the day into the night
Recall the kiss that makes you yearn
Then come to bed and dreams alight
And into your dreams you may lure
This woman who holds your hidden cure


One of my older pieces from a very trial ridden part of my life.

CLASSIFIEDS: Knight Seeks Damsel in Distress for Dramatic Romance

My life. My LIFE. I swear, I’ve been saying it since I was in high school, a soap opera wouldn’t buy my story.

I have turned down my share of guys. I’m not gorgeous or funny or particularly anything spectacular but I have had the immense honor of knowing some very “nice” guys, some very fun/troublesome guys, and even a small handful of bad boys. And they were all amazing friends. I never really saw them as much else; I grew up a tomboy and was always “one of the guys” and so guy attention wasn’t anything special because I was always around them. In hindsight over a decade later I get the reason why girls who desired romantic male attention found this… frustrating. At the time, I was totally clueless, and continued to be for years.

Honestly, I still don’t know what warranted their attention. I clean up pretty nice but I’m just an ordinary me. I’m okay with that, though, because I don’t believe ordinary actually exists, merely unappreciated.

Last night, one of my male friends and I were talking about things past, present, and future. We hadn’t spoken for probably a good two years, most of my friendships are like that. Maybe it’s an introvert thing, going long spans of time between conversations. I find my social life to be similar to a pulsar in nature, it varies between on fire and nearly dead. I’m okay with that most of the time. Anyways…

Just as I have been friends with primarily males, he has been friends with primarily females, only he has not had the romantic luck with his that I have “had” with mine (I did not actually consider it lucky at the time nor am I sure I do now). This guy is a wonderful “nice guy” example, and I would hypothetically be one of those many females who turned him down because he was “just a friend”.

I can’t speak for any of the other women but in my younger years I tended toward the more aggressive types because I was unsure of myself or what to do with my life, so the decisiveness was refreshing. They were normally total jerks to be around, but I chose the fun jerks… for a while.

From my own life and the observations I’ve  made, it’s a trend.Women seek out those characteristics they find, at least temporarily, beyond the reach of their own personalities or those traits which challenge their own personalities to expand in the desired direction(s). Hence why “damsels in distress” are drawn to befriend the “nice guys” and date the “bad boys” (way too many quotation marks in this sentence, I know). They need the emotional, physical, and psychological kindnesses and reassurances these males give while craving the power, independence, freedom, strength, etcetera that the other side of the spectrum seems to exhibit. I’m not sure why they are drawn to the one more than the other except perhaps that pain is appreciated more keenly than pleasure more often than not. Damaged attracts damaged, so to speak, as it is all they know and are afraid to venture into the unknown realm of “healthy” because they cannot predict what will or is supposed to happen. Their patterns are entirely skewed with a certain ensnaring degredation. They feel like anything else is beyond them despite their craving for those traits that would seemingly allow them to achieve it.

Men are protectors and providers by nature. They are the body whereas women are the heart and in a perfect world they would come together and be as of one mind. When that nature is twisted, and it must be twisted as one’s morality does not simply go awry by chance within the singularity of a moment, these amazing creatures become monsters. The kind ones are misunderstood as weaker because they do not display their strength. They are seen as less willing to protect because, as a wounded animal, a wounded woman sees threats that aren’t there but still desires to be protected from them and, as such, holds unreasonable expectations of how a protector should behave. As for providing, how can one have a healthy view of what should be provided if one does not even know what they should be protected from. Again, unreasonable expectations arise whether they are over or under what is healthy.

Women who do not know what is healthy seem to almost always shy away from it, or so it seems. I find it a curious maze to wander through, myself, to watch as those around me are lost. I have been there and see more of the map then I used to, not because I have the answers but because I have walked those very halls enough times to recognize them. I recognize the walls, the look in the eyes, the flinches you try to hide or laugh away.

Keep in mind that I am not saying women are helpless or shouldn’t be in the workforce or that I’m anti-feminist, etcetera. Men and women are wired differently, that is a fact. A fact. Indisputable. Not my opinion and these are merely my opinions as I think “out-loud” on these matters.

I did not fall for a bad boy, I fell for someone I thought was one of the nice ones. It turned out that he was just as abusive as what I had experienced previously, if not more so, but it was in a manner I was unaccustomed to and therefore did not recognize as abuse. He may be a step up above deplorable, may be. Sometimes, I think I would have been better off falling for one of the “bad boys” during that period of my life as I would have understood what abuse I was dealing or not dealing with, but I tried to make good choices, I really did. In looking back and surveying his behavior over the years I realize he knew exactly what he was doing. He wasn’t a nice guy, or a bad boy, he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He played the part to take what he wanted from someone he believed was too weak to break from him. Then he tried to punish me when I found happiness away from him, like his type does. And I pity him for it, if pity is even the right word.

“I’m trying.”

My husband and I got to watch The Battle of the Five Armies (for FREEE, thank you, RedBox). We have been waiting a very long time to see it and as soon as it was available I tracked down a free rental code and reserved it. It was the only piece of good timing we’ve had for a long time. We watched it, cuddled up on the couch, him with his brownies and me with my Nutella mug cake. Afterwards, we cuddled some more and talked.

“You’ve been different the last couple weeks.” I said.

“I’m trying.” He replied.

That was the extent of that conversation, two lines in total, and it meant the world to me.

It’s easy to love someone during that honeymoon phase, or someone who’s, well, easy to love.

I am not easy to love.

My husband is. Well, mostly, and most of the time.

He’s trying. I am not easy to love and he is trying.

He grew up with a certain necessary sarcasm and emotional constipation which were essential to him coping with what he had to. Being as emotionally sensitive as I am the sarcasm comes across as more hurtful than sarcastic and I have a hard time telling when he’s joking or when he’s angry. After six years of marriage we’re still that way. With all the stress we’ve been under he has been more sarcastic, I have been more scatter-brained and chaotic. We were not playing off of each other well.

04222015

“I’m Trying.”

My husband and I got to watch The Battle of the Five Armies (for FREEE, thank you, RedBox). We have been waiting a very long time to see it and as soon as it was available I tracked down a free rental code and reserved it. It was the only piece of good timing we’ve had for a long time. We watched it, cuddled up on the couch, him with his brownies and me with my Nutella mug cake. Afterwards, we cuddled some more and talked.

“You’ve been different the last couple weeks.” I said.

“I’m trying.” He replied.

That was the extent of that conversation, two lines in total, and it meant the world to me.

It’s easy to love someone during that honeymoon phase, or someone who’s, well, easy to love.

I am not easy to love.

My husband is. Well, mostly, and most of the time.

He’s trying. I am not easy to love and he is trying.

He grew up with a certain necessary sarcasm and emotional constipation which were essential to him coping with what he had to. Being as emotionally sensitive as I am the sarcasm comes across as more hurtful than sarcastic and I have a hard time telling when he’s joking or when he’s angry. After six years of marriage we’re still that way. With all the stress we’ve been under he has been more sarcastic, I have been more scatter-brained and chaotic. We were not playing off of each other well.

Then, a few weeks ago, instead of making a sarcastic, hurtful comment… he made a kind one. I don’t think he realized how deeply unhappy his behavior had been making me, so when I didn’t know how to respond to a kindness it struck him where we were finding ourselves. I was unhappy. I was unhappy and stressed and becoming more unable to keep the unhappiness in check until we worked through things or they got better or whatever improvements might happen. We had talked about our relationship, the word “unhappy” hadn’t been used but I’m pretty sure there was enough description tossed out between us that he understood where I was coming from.

So… without me asking him to, he changed, or is trying. “I’m trying,” the singular phrase that has me more in love with my husband than ever, even when I thought I couldn’t love him anymore.  He goes off and changes. I don’t think I could ever love him enough. He has broken my heart with kindness over and over and over again in regard to so many things. Can he be an ass and callous and crass, of course! But he is so much more than that, too.

Then, a few weeks ago, instead of making a sarcastic, hurtful comment… he made a kind one. I don’t think he realized how deeply unhappy his behavior had been making me, so when I didn’t know how to respond to a kindness it struck him where we were finding ourselves. I was unhappy. I was unhappy and stressed and becoming more unable to keep the unhappiness in check until we worked through things or they got better or whatever improvements might happen. We had talked about our relationship, the word “unhappy” hadn’t been used but I’m pretty sure there was enough description tossed out between us that he understood where I was coming from.

So… without me asking him to, he changed, or is trying. “I’m trying,” the singular phrase that has me more in love with my husband than ever, even when I thought I couldn’t love him anymore.  He goes off and changes. I don’t think I could ever love him enough. He has broken my heart with kindness over and over and over again in regard to so many things. Can he be an ass and callous and crass, of course! But he is so much more than that, too.

Juvenile Anonymity

When I picked my son up from his last visitation with his dad, ChaosMonkey asked if he had his own email address. The long and short of it was that his dad had put the idea of getting an email address into his head.

ChaosMonkey is fresh into his ninth year of life. NINE. An email address at this age, in my opinion, is not only wildly inappropriate but very much dangerous.

“But there are email programs specifically for kids” And those are probably specifically targeted by pedophiles, human traffickers, and God knows what other devils on earth.

“Well, email programs can branch out from your own email to make one for your child” Then you’re exposing them to the wanton uncountable anonymity of the internet. You’re, in essence, allowing them freedom to do, say, share, etcetera with THE WORLD things you are unaware of.

“They’re going to get one anyways” Yes, they will, when they are older and have a better understanding of the consequences their actions may/can lead to.

I know my son, probably better than anyone, and I know he is nowhere near ready for “the internet”. I know he, like his mother, is far too trusting. That’s why we have some of the safeguards in place that we do, it’s why we’re so careful.

This is not a discussion I’ve had with TheEx. I haven’t spoken to him yet and am, frankly, still very upset he would broach this subject with our son without first talking to me, but that is the incredibly parentally inept nature of the beast. These are all just the minutest of things going through my head. I do not need some porn addicted pathological liar encouraging my son to venture out into the internet. Had I been smart I would have saved his browsing history or something before we split, but I wasn’t. I can’t do anything about that now, all I can hope to affect is the present and in so doing the future.

What I find perhaps most infuriating about all this is that when/if my husband and I don’t set an email up for him, TheEx will and, along with everything else, will do so without notifying us of anything. He is one of ChaosMonkey’s parents and we can’t control how he parents and there is probably 3/4 of the world’s free populace who think I’m being over protective. That’s okay. My son, my responsibility. I never much cared for how eccentric, weird, or whatever people have thought I am. More often than not they’ve come around later, albeit years later, to say I was right or what not. I don’t care what political bullshit is running around in regards to children and the internet; it’s flat out parentally irresponsible.

Again, I understand people have their own opinions about this topic and I would love to hear/discuss them. I am very set in my opinions but I am always open for discussion.

So, thoughts? Anyone? Everyone?