Teach me love, I know I’m not a hopeless case

A few days ago, I had a dream that a childhood friend of mine was murdered while meeting up with me in the city. She was strangled to death by a man, because she accidentally hit him with her car door when getting out of the car. It took me back that she was in my dream, particularly because of the way things ended and changed. And it struck me funny, that the tragedy happened over something so trivial.

What I took from this was that we, in life are so easily angered over the smallest things, we often react too quickly.

I am easily hurt I find, despite the rough exterior I try to present, I crumble fast and I fall hard. And for a long while, I lay lifelessly on the ground, refusing to have hope.

I sink.

And then you think you’ll learn from situations, but then you find yourself being tempted with the same question, and you pick B, when you should have picked C.
Interesting how words written a few years back, still reveal more of me than I could ever imagine. And what does it say about me that I continually find myself in these situations, a multiple choice test that I never seem to pick the right answer. In the end, I hope to find that the reason for this is for something good, something bigger.

Burned

A child knows not
the warnings that come.
The embers burn bright,
upon a slight graze.

But I have known.
Yet like a child,
I wrap my fingers 'round
and in its wake, blistered skin maps,
the lesson I'll never learn.

J.Crawford
May 12, 2009

And I am angry.
I am angry that I keep blistering myself; wondering why? So I look back over the situation, I churn and churn it around, inspecting every corner and crease to find where the center could no longer hold. I look back at all my mistakes and changes, and wonder what all the fuss was about.

So again I find myself, obsessing over details and thinking about that friend, as I watched the interview with Gabby Gifford’s on ABC.

“Very difficult” She says, of her struggles to come as far as she has.
And for me, it’s difficult to watch Gabby and not feel what she says and to not want to amend myself and behavior. She inspires me.

Gabriel Gifford’s story is one of hope, triumph and acknowledgement, because if she’s not angry about the wrong that was done to her, a bullet through her brain and a life forever changed, how can I be angry about a paper cut?

Because that’s all these mistakes are, tiny little paper cuts that shouldn’t be life altering, but hiccups or beats of a heart.

“Life is too short, thanks for thinking of me. I think of you a lot too”

You fall, my pride, Don't ever need to apologize...

I was sitting there today at work thinking about what went wrong at the wedding I went to back in May. I had a terrible time, and looking back, I placed a lot of blame on the bride-to-be and one of my Best friends.

I remember trying to be fair with my anger, I tried to look at both sides, because I pride myself on being able to do that. Interestingly enough, when feelings are involved, sometimes, there is a disconnect.


Here are the facts:

1. My flight got delayed
2. I ended up sleeping in an airport (or trying)
3. What was supposed to be seamless and flawless, turned into a nightmare
4. My relationship with my boyfriend at the time, was rocky.
5. It was high stress as this was the first time my friends were meeting my boyfriend, I wanted him to impress them, and felt like he failed to do so
6. All the above statements made me angry
7. I just wanted to be with my best friend as much as possible before her big day.
8. I was hoping to spend a day at the pool with my best friend
9. I was ditched, and left out; then ignored.
10. This made me sad
11. I spent a good 3 hours feeling pretty alone and contemplated leaving before anything else bad could happen
12. The Bride, was beyond your normal selfish for any bride, especially at her friends expense.

So here is the truth:


I was looking for a pick me up from my friend, because I had been there countless times to make her happy when she was sad. And while this was HER wedding, we had plans, we had talked and talked and talked, and in the end, she made me feel like she didn't want me there. She failed me.

My boyfriend was just as selfish; he also failed me.

But most of all, I failed me.

And now, I’m sorry for the anger I displaced on her, and I’m sad it cost a friendship.

It’s interesting, how some time, can give you perspective.

Most days I miss our friendship but mostly, I’m grateful for the learning experience.

Schoolhouse Rock....

For my Intro to Education course we’re supposed to keep a weekly journal with thoughts and evaluations relating to our potential careers in Teaching.

Our first journal assignment is to answer the question “Why Teach?”

I always joke when people ask me what I’m going to school for that I’m “getting into the family business.” My family seems to be comprised of mostly businessmen or teacher/social worker related fields. But becoming a teacher is more than just the family business; it’s something that started when I was young.

I’ve had a rough life and the people that seemed to be a constant stability was always my aunt and my teachers, well the teachers of the schools I stayed the longest in. My aunt taught elementary school for a lot of schools that were located in parts of town with a high poverty rate. I admired her dedication to making a difference in these kids’ lives. I wanted to be like her. I want the same things she’s worked hard to achieve.

In fourth grade my research paper was called “The ups and downs about teaching.” I focused on researching the career I was destine to have. Even with the “bad” I knew this was where I was supposed to be.

As I grew, my interest in teaching faded as I began exploring different interest and for a long time I was insistent upon becoming a journalist when I was in high school. But I realized it wasn’t the writing I loved, but rather the design and layouts I created with the school newspaper.

Soon after high school I got my first camera. I started snapping pictures of everything. I set up photo shoots with friends and began playing with the idea of being a photographer. (I still toy with that idea.) However, the lack of confidence in my artistic ability has atlas pushed me away from the photography career and I found myself wondering what I was going to do with my life.

About this same time I started watching two very amazing little boys while attending school. One of the boys was particularly apt to knowledge, so while we played I would talk to him about what I was learning in my history classes. The first conversation we had been about the Nile and Egypt.

He pounded me with questions wanting to know everything I knew and more. Soon, it became his fascination and I loved the positive feeling it gave me when he would tell me things he had learned from me, or something else. And sure, maybe I did have to tell him “No we will not be embalming your little brother!” even then, I felt a sense of pride.

And then it occurred to me that I should take a hint from my 10-year-old self and revisit my first ambitions, the ones I find I have the most confidence in.

So why teach?

1. Because the world needs good teachers, and I know I could be one.
2. Because somewhere there’s a lost child that was just like me desperate for some direction, and I would love to be able inspire them the way I have been inspired by my aunt and other teachers.
3. Because I enjoy leading and being looked up to.
4. Kids are funny.
5. Lots of glitter.
6. Teaching will help me gain knowledge in the things I love and even open my eyes to new possibilities.
7. I always loved school, might as well stay in it…except this time I’ll be at the front of the classroom, instead of hiding in the back.
8. I get to decide what happens; not very many professional jobs allow the creativity that teaching does.
9. I’m ready for the challenge of shaping the future.
10. Lets be honest, I love being the center of attention, if even for a minute.

She did the best rendition of "A whole new world"

The last time I wrote anything I lived in New Jersey and was about to embark on an interesting new life with my friend Wendy there for me along the drive to Michigan.

Things got rough within the first 20 minutes of driving.And then 30 miles from what was once my home, Daniel's car broke down. We still had 10 hours of driving to do, and hadn't even left NJ.

Getting to Michigan was rough which is partly why I've made the decision to abstain from writing - It keeps me from "woe's me" entries.

Daniel and I made the decision to leave his car in NJ (With his dad) and rented a car (with the help of Wendy) then 24 hours after we first attempted to leave NJ, we were finally on our way.

Once the road trip was underway, everything else seem to go a little smoother. But upon arriving, things weren't the greatest, and I still was struggling with things back in NJ. Which I realized I had to stop letting it bother me and just let it go. And I feel better for having made the decision to come here.

Again, I really haven't had much to write about as I tend to shut down in high stress situations. (Getting a new job, getting ready for school, moving/settling in have been really rough for me.)

I have a job, its not fantastic, but it pays me. How can I complain? School has started and I'm a little uneasy, but I'm sure I will come out on top, or at least I hope I do.

I'm moving forward, one step at a time. (And with a little help from my friends (Wendy.))

I miss the boys, I miss New Jersey, I miss driving to see the New York skyline. I miss my adventures. I miss my roommates.

But, writing this has been a bit of a struggle, but for whatever reason I've felt compelled to keep some sort of update in my life other than "I am alive."

And I am.

Hope all is well.

It's 3 am I must be lonely....

I always used to get so angry when my grandma would literally force me to bake. I'd throw fits, spit angry words, and eventually bake or make whatever it was that she requested. Which is funny considering I’ve actually always been pretty partial to baking and mostly enjoy it. I always claimed myself more of a baker until recently when I've tried my hand in cooking.

But I distinctively remember my grandmother always wanting me to make Banana bread. If there were over ripe bananas in the kitchen, it meant I had to make bread. It used to drive me crazy, I always thought she hated me being idle and would make me do something despite the fact that whatever occupied my idleness was satisfying to me. It used to Anger me a great deal. Really I hate being forced to do anything, but who likes demands?

It’s late and I’m up avoiding sleep by talking with Wendy as we usually do, a treasured ritual and after listening to my stomach growl for the hundredth time, I turned around to grab something to snack on when I saw the bananas. I picked them up to move them out of the way and they were so ripe they were literally falling out of the peels.

And then her voice was there. “Go make some banana bread out of the over ripe banana’s in the kitchen.”

I miss her. I almost felt obligated to bang things around in protest.

And besides, 3 AM is the perfect time to bake, right?

My Heart's Sittin' on Go

Creating a play list for the Great Epic Adventure with Wendy has been a fun little trip through all the music I have on my computer (50g.) And you know what? I’m not ashamed that I follow Garth Brooks with Eminem. Or that I have every album the Spice Girls ever released. And yes, I do have almost every boy band to ever come out in the late 90’s early Millennium) represented (5ive, BSB, N’Sync, Westlife, Soul Decision…etc.) And come to think of it I do in fact have Metallica followed by Avril Lavigne, and Evanescence and Flo Rida. Don't judge.

I also have the My Little Pony’s Theme song and Mortal Combat. So, I collect music like I collect memories (usually they coincide.)

And how could I forget The Beatles? Every album they've ever released is on there too.

What was the point of this? Oh yes, I’m incredibly moved by music and it shapes my life. It also has me feeling pretty good lately. Yes, a change in the game was exactly what the doctor ordered.

As much as I want this week to progress slowly, I also want it to pass quickly.

"My heart's Sittin' on Go"

Never really knew she could dance like this...

Shakira’s song “Hips Don’t Lie” makes me feel like I could probably dance…If I weren’t so clumsy. And of course I would never look as flawless and sexy as she does in her video…



But 3 minutes and 43 seconds I totally can.

Please don't let me go, I desperately need you.

I’m sitting at my desk eating a powdered Bavarian crème donut. Its sweet and it tastes like my youth. Instantly I am transformed back to Sundays with my grandparents.

I’m seven, maybe eight and the air is hot; I can feel the sweat pool behind the back of my knees. Its summer in Tucson, which means the weather, is unbearable. And still, children are dashing around the grass in their dresses and khaki’s while parents and friends gather in small groups talking to one another. My grandfather is giving the okay as we hurry over to select a donut that’s being sold after the service. I can see him with his pressed pants, his crisp button up, bald head reflecting the sun. He stirs his coffee as my siblings and I wait, pushing in front of each other to be the first to collect our prize. My grandmother scolds us, tells us to behave, we try, but we’re really no good at it.

Besides the donut counters are two orange coolers of lemonade, they’re the perfect combination for this hot Sunday. I try not to be greedy but I know want to grab all of the donuts, maybe sneak another selfishly away for later. They’re treats for me, and I want them all. I carefully select a powdered crème filled donut. I do this every time and it taste so good. I’m content in my life and nothing seems to matter as I smudge myself with the sugary-confection.

Looking back, It was really the only reason I ever enjoyed going to church that or the rare occasion that my grandparents would take us to a late breakfast or lunch. I was destined to be fat. I loved food even then.

Shortly after we’ll pack ourselves into my grandparent’s car, it smells like leather and when my grandma drives, I get car sick. When grandpa drives, I watch him, carefully. I watch where he turns, what roads he takes. This helps me later when I get my licenses and never really struggle with how to get somewhere. I act worried when my grandma screeches my grandfathers name and clings to the armrest, but inside I know she’s over reacting, like he’d ever hit anyone, we’re safe. I’m safe when I’m with my grandparents. And I’m happy.

“I find it hard to tell you, cause I find it hard to take”

“Well I heard there was a secret chord, that David played, and it pleased the Lord but you don't really care for music, do you? “

It started with a random song that came on my Pandora, I remember hearing some of the words, the melody stuck in my head but I couldn’t remember the name of the artist who sang it so I googled the title of the song, “Hallalujah”, and got a youtube video a fan-made video featuring Kate Voegele’s vocals. I’m not even remotely familiar with her, as I’ve actually never heard of her before. But her version of the song struck a cord with me. It’s her voice, it captivates me and I wonder if people ever become so infatuated with a song because the way a certain sound. I’m sure they do, but I like to think I’m unique in my obsession with vocals. It raises hairs on my arms and I can actually feel tears well up in my eyes. And I’m positive that this is how music should be felt, heard even.

First of all, the lyrics are beautiful. The strange part is that they’re spiritual and they hit me in a way I can’t even explain. It makes me feel more glass half full in regards to my life. However, I have difficulty pulling from this cynical outlook. I feel like I’m forever feeling the “the minor fall” of life in everything that I do. I’m still waiting for “the major lift” So I can have my Hallelujah moments I know it’s just the ebbs and flow of life, but I truly believe that some people are more lucky than others and I haven’t the luck of the Irish that I should have. But I digress. There is something about this line from the song, “And Love is not a victory march, it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah “ Borderline obsessed with the notion. I just know that the voice combined with the lyrics sooth me, like a pacifier does to a fussy baby.

And then there’s the flip-side to the other song that’s also been on repeat, Mad World, a slightly darker take on life. Which interestingly enough the video I found also fan-made was set to scenes from Girl, Interrupted; which is oddly fitting. But anyway, I knew I had heard it before because I recalled the melody and lyrics slightly (Tears for Fears) but the artist singing it was new to me, Alex Parks. I love her voice. It’s another one of those voices that appeals to me and draws me into the song. But this song is about how we get so caught up in life and run these circles and it all seems so tiresome. I can my fears being ripped from me and put on show in this song.

“Hide my head I want to drown my sorrows, no tomorrow…”

I relate so much to the dark and lonely lyric “And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad, the dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had.” It’s such a cynical outlook, and it gives off this edge of loneliness in the singer’s voice. It reaches into the darkness of me and pulls these thoughts forward.

“I find it hard to tell you, cause I find it hard to take”

It’s hard to understand the darkness that comes into me when I have these fairy tales of life in my head, my humor is twisted and dark, bleak, but my heart is princesses, fairies, magical lands and happily ever after.

The very twist of both of these songs being on my replay list back to back suggest a certain bi-polar/teenage angst feeling inside of me. And then this tug for normalcy, which explains the tears that well inside me when I hear “Hallelujah” and the sense of comfort I feel when I hear “Mad World.”

Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and famous?

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us most. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and famous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in all of us. And when we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” -Marianne Williamson

Helpless, Hopeless

I want badly to be a published author, but perhaps not bad enough because I can’t think of any story I want to write about more than what I know, and that’s me. I know my life, I know my story and it might sell. But it also might be just like everything else. And am I really pompous enough to think I could write to book standards? But also, I don’t think I’m completely ready to open myself up for everyone to take in.

In essence, I am a self published author by way of the internet, but I want to feel my book in a hardcover biding. I want people to read what I write and connect to me on that level, to understand, maybe even help. I haven’t the strength to do what I want.

Not yet, anyway.

It's no suprise to me I am my own worst enemy...

A girl I went to high school told me she always admired my confidence in high school. It got me thinking about what confidence really meant. In high school, I was never very confident; I was just involved in my own tormented world that it was hard for much to get through my hard shell and into the core of my being. And surely that’s not confidence.

Anyone can take a million pictures and find one that they look good in, after all, it truly is about angles. I'm queen of angles. My family makes fun of me for them, maybe not in effort to hurt me, but never the less, a certain photo style is now considered a "Jennie Photo" - And really? It was way of making myself feel beautiful, because no one else was going to. And surely that's not confidence? But even now, I don't feel so vain and even less beautiful.

Really, my weight has been heavily on my mind these past few weeks. I had friends in town and they wanted a tour of NYC and I felt like I was holding them back because I couldn’t walk as fast or as long. Never mind that the heat was a factor, walking caused my a lot of pain in my head. I thought my head was going to explode, I got lightheaded on several accounts but I pushed myself to move forward with breaks, but I still don’t feel as though I accomplished anything.

I make excuses that I’m more of a wanderer who likes to take things in in different spots, but its also because my body cannot handle the physical exertion. My body has hit a point where I’m no longer comfortable in my own skin and this scares me.

I don’t have a whole lot of will power, though I am stubborn. And I can’t wrap my brain around the idea that you have to not have certain foods. I happen to love food and it pisses me off that I can’t eat it. I understand that everything in moderation, and I really have been trying to watch that, make better choices on what I do eat, but sometimes you just want a huge slice of chocolate cake, with ice cream.
I have a lot swirling around in my brain lately, Its taking more for me to feel good about myself than it used to. It used to be easy for me to feel beautiful or pretty and now, I feel the darker shadow of me more than the beautiful me.

It’s hard to even say these things out loud, and honestly even harder to type it. Because the feeling being that, as a writer, there is more truth in what I write then what I say. When I write, I’m allowed to say anything, without the fear of crying, or getting angry, when I talk I fear crying and getting angry. I fear people seeing the emotion on my face or hearing it in my voice, even though arguably, you can feel emotions in words, if one is a good writer or even mediocre.


I have a lot of hang-ups about losing weight, a lot of stigmas that keep me rooted in my opinions. For one, I absolutely hate sweating. And for two, I never understand the euphoria feeling people get after they’ve been to a gym or worked out. I don’t get it. I get light headed and stomach achy. I’m also a sucker when it comes to pain, I can’t tolerate it very well, at all. If you exercise right there should be pain right? I can’t wrap my brain around that Idea either. And you know, perhaps these are all just road blocks I’m putting in my way, but I’d much rather hang out in a pool any day than sweat myself to death on a treadmill. But I don’t really have regular access to a pool nor the funds to have access to a pool... Sometimes your batting Zero (That reference was for you Emily)

I’m ready for a change in scenery and a change in me, hopefully within the next few months I can truly get over myself and get on to being a better me physically, mentally and also educationally. I’m so ready for chapter *insert whatever number this is.*

Maybe then I can find the right confidence, the true kind that I feel inside and out.

Maybe then I can be more than just a pretty face.

Everything I needed to know about Love, I learned from The Beatles

"You say you want a revolution Well, you know we all want to change the world" - Revolution (The Beatles)

In light of New York's decision to allow gay marriage I've finally found something to write about that I have a passion for. Beware, here’s where I’m going to come off sounding slightly douche-y. I’m already sick of hearing about gay’s right to marry. Now, having said my douche bag of a statement, allow me to back peddle a bit.

What I can’t wrap my mind around is how this is such an issue? Seriously, what is going on in peoples minds that makes them think, you know what? Fuck people in love marrying. We wont have it.

"All you need is love, love is all you need" - All you need is Love (The Beatles)

Marriage is not what it once was; it hasn’t been for quite some time. It would not be far from the truth to say that many of our laws are dictated by what used to be considered moral and normal.

I guess what I’m really getting at is, welcome to the fucking real world people. We’re out of the dark ages, women no longer have to be in the kitchen, black people can in fact get a job and dare I say it? Become president. The world is evolving; men no longer beat a woman over the head with a stone and drag them back to the cave (well, most don’t I’m sure some where a moron has done this.)

For people of the same sex, asking for the right to a civil union or marriage is the right to declare and establish a loving and long-term relationship with another person. It is allowing them the ability to raise a family and adhere to ideals of a marriage as any other couple would. They are not asking not for special rights, but rather the same to be able to have a say when it comes to the medical emergencies of a partner. They are trying to live their life as any heterosexual would in the pursuit of happiness and is that not what the constitution states as one of our inalienable rights?

Oh yea, I’ll tell you something, I think you’ll understand, When I say that something, I want to hold your hand - I Want To Hold Your Hand (The Beatles)

As a relatively progressive Roman Catholic (or used to be), my religion is against the marriage between two people of the same sex. It however, doesn’t make me any less catholic to be able to recognize the change and movement of our nation. There are many things stated in the bible that we don’t adhere to for example, in the book of Deuteronomy 22:22 it states “If a married person has sex with someone else's husband or wife, the Bible commands that both adulterers be stoned to death.” Further evidence is in Mark 12:18-17, “If a man dies childless, his widow is ordered by biblical law to have intercourse with each of his brothers in turn until she bears her deceased husband a male heir.” These are among several things that were held true in biblical times, which we do not perceive as being acceptable in the modern world.

Dear Prudence open up your eyes, dear Prudence see the sunny skies the wind is low the birds will sing that you are part of everything, Dear Prudence won't you open up your eyes? - Dear Prudence (The Beatles)

Okay, what I’m really saying here is, get your shit together world, we’re changing, we’re moving forward, lets try not to slip back into the dark ages, I’m not that great of a cook, and I have no desire to be a house wife. If I can have that choice as a woman, then everyone should be able to have a choice on whom they marry. Because seriously? I’m tired of this being a problem. And I’m tired of it having to be a triumph when some state decides to get their shit together.

Side note… who saw that coming from Iowa? I mean if Iowa can do it what are the rest of us doing with our lives.

“Everybody's journey is individual. If you fall in love with a boy, you fall in love with a boy. The fact that many Americans consider it a disease says more about them than it does about homosexuality.” ~James Baldwin

You can understand dependence When you know the maker's land

“So make your siren's call, and sing all you want I will not hear what you have to say Cause I need freedom now and I need to know how to live my life as it's meant to be”

I was going to write about how ridiculous I thought it was that a childhood friend deleted me from her Facebook after I went to this horrific of a time wedding shelling out thousands of dollars to be present on her magical day while she treated me like a leaper most of the weekend – But then I realized she wasn’t much of a friend. The wedding was pretty and she looked fantastic and happy, so in the end, I guess that is all that matters to her.

Not the fact that I’ve been there for her through so much, the death of her grandfather when according to her, her other friends weren’t. She was vaguely there for my grandmothers death, and only if it was convenient.

Well, I suppose I did write about it after all. But it's not about deleting me from Facebook and blocking me entirely. It’s about how she never once approached me to talk to me – she never once took my feelings into consideration. And, after 16 years of friendship, you would expect more. However, given the maturity of her, it only makes sense. And I know in her mind it was probably because I “didn’t want to see her happy” – And that is bullshit, but if that’s the lie she has to weave to justify her actions there isn’t much I can do at this point. In the end I was a decent friend. Or at least I would like to think I was, however, I will never know because she wasn’t a woman enough to talk to me.

Which brings me to my next case, I have a hording problem – Not that I collect junk, but rather I collect these ‘friends’ and I keep them close to me in effort to have control over something tangible. Having moved so often as a child and losing a lot of possessions It was like I made this silent vow to keep track of the friends I did have and hold on to some sense of normalcy of getting older with some friends. I remember when my step-dad told me that the friends I had as a jr high student would not be the same friends I had in adulthood. But through my hording ways, the core people I was friends with in Jr high with, are still people I consider my oldest and best friends.
I’ve got to realize when a friendship is just junk collecting clutter in my life and taking up too much of my emotional energy, and finally have the strength to clean out my ever so junked up emotional house and only keep the things that will enrich or bring meaning to my life.

Over a conversation with my aunt she mentioned how my friends were my life, how I depended too heavily upon them my whole life, more so than most. They were/are the feet I stood/stand on, they mean everything to me, and the reality of it is – They were this because of my inability to feel the love in my own home that I sought the approval and love elsewhere. Some of my friends are crucial in my survival this long.
But when is it that I stop living for them and start living for me?

The answer is now.

Because “I’ll find strength in pain” and “I have other things to fill my time, you take what was yours and I’ll take what was mine”

“Despite my faults and despite my growing fears, I will hold on hope.”

Dear Life,

I quit. You win.

Sincerely,

Me.

Change my attempt good intentions, should I? could I?

I’ve been carrying my camera with me lately; I’m hoping that by having it, it inspires me to take photos every day. I really need to get back into it. I need to get back into something- I need something to do to occupy my time, though, I don’t have much.

Isn’t that the problem though? We spend so much time trying to find time in our busy lives. I feel as though all I do is work to pay rent, outrageous rent at that. And when I get home, I just want to do nothing. Nothing that requires too much thought, I need to numb my mind and escape.

Speaking of escapes, summer has arrived everyone around me is buzzing with what they’ll do with the time. Well, everyone but me, because my paid time has been used.

My time has been spent on ridiculous snow days that render my vehicle unable to move from my street – but if I could have gone to work, I surely would have. There was a family death that for my own emotional reasons, I needed to be back in Arizona. And then there was a wedding that took much of my monetary resources, time and had so many disasters. And if that wasn’t enough, I felt unappreciated and left out of quite a bit -it took quite a bit out of me emotionally.

The bottom line is, none of this time has been used in a relaxing manner. None of my time off has been an escape. So with summer here, I feel like it’s going to be a long hard year and I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel.

This and many other reasons is why I need to get back into photography, so that I can discover my creative side all over again and bring my own light and find an escape.

My City of Ruins

"Emotional despair makes us all a junkie to one form of distraction or another" – Jeremy

I feel like a complete junkie in my need to find something, anything that makes me feel even slightly good. I've bought a lot of dresses lately.

It's helped. A little.

My life is kicking my butt; it’s digging into me more than I can handle. Between work, school, home life and inner turmoil, I’m reaching for multiple outlets mentally, but physically, I’m recoiling into sleep – to which I’m never getting enough.

My heart is breaking every day at the person I’ve allowed myself to become – I’m not hurting anyone but myself this time, emotionally anyway. It's breaking because my options are limited. I have choices to make, but each of them comes with consequences and so I deal with the one that seems to be less damaging, but is it?

I desperately need a distraction, maybe some sunshine will save me.

You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch, You really are a heel...

I’m weird in that I tend to grumble and growl about the coming holidays – Christmas was never a favorite, Thanksgiving just makes me fatter, and Easter, Easter reminds me of death, more than just the death of Jesus, but the death of both of my grandparents. They each died on either side of it, 9 years apart. I harbor this inconceivable amount of rage against the day.

I don’t know why I even do, its not like the holiday did anything to me. Well, it reminds me of family, and out here in Over-priced-Hell, I seem to lack just that, so the idea that I lost the biggest part of my family still makes me look at Easter with such resentment.

And lets face it; I’ve lost my faith in religion and faith. In fact, I’ve grown to have a certain degree of disgust for it. Interestingly enough – Oh I don’t know, my life seems all messed up anyway, losing my faith seems only like part of the process of falling apart.

In any event, I opted out of driving 2 miles to be with Daniel’s family. Instead, I’ll sit at home, flip back and forth between twitter, facebook and attempt to avoid the kitchen and Easter basket I prepared for the house which, even through protests and hatred, I still manage to think that an Easter basket needs to be present, a Christmas tree needs to be put up, christmas presents bought, and green jello has to be on the table at Thanksgiving...even if holidays get me in a grinchy sort of way.

Anyway, How I feel about Easter can be summed up by this photo.



(Thanks Jeremy)

"You don't understand me, and I want to be understood. "

I haven’t been writing at all because everything is depressing. I don’t have any positive way to say it and I try to avoid writing when I’m feeling shitty because I fear that it comes off too Boo-hoo, feel bad for me. That’s hardly the point.

There are several things in my life that seem to be a little off tilt. My mood is due to several factors and while I know that we all supposedly have the ability to either smile and face the world, or cry in a corner, my attitude lately has been more towards the crying in the corner type. I can’t seem to shake these so called winter blues. I can’t seem to shake the losses I’ve had. My grieving process seems to be at a stand still, and that’s where I’m having problems.

I’ve done a good job of separating myself from people I care about whether by words or miles so that at the end of the day, I feel like there is no one I can turn to. Part of it is because I’m incredibly guarded in my feelings that I have trouble even falling into anyone with my pain and/or emotions. The few people I did select to open up to, well some of them pushed my feelings back into me, like how dare I feel, and tell them about it – Or at least, that’s how it felt. So you’ll understand where my guarded feelings come from. Plus, to those I do open up to, its hard to hear the response “I wish there was something I could do to make you feel better” – It’s hard for several of these people because of the distance. And its hard to swallow that line without choking on it, because some people cannot help me feel any different, and some people help me by just being near. But, I have trust issues.

And I wish I didn’t. Because it makes me do things I don’t like seeing myself do. It makes me check up on those close to me because of my own insecurities. But then again, sometimes those insecurities are confirmed, but I wish they hadn’t been. I feel like I’m in a loveless marriage with myself if that’s even possible. I question the love others give me, wondering if it’s even genuine or if it’s because of the materialistic things I provide.

I have a hard time grasping that concept and accepting it and trying to learn from it. I have an uncanny ability to harbor anger and resentment and to stick around people that don’t help this situation.

I want to talk so badly, but find it hard to find the words without crying, even now as I type this my eyes are glassy and the salty pains in my heart run down my cheek.
In life I find myself not satisfied, like Bono,” I still haven’t found what I’m looking for” and for that matter, I don’t even know WHAT I am looking for, I just know that I want more than I’ve found. Maybe that’s a problem? That I can’t be happy with what I have; it’s hard to be happy when you hold so much anger, frustration, guilt inside. It’s hard to even talk, when just the thought of crying in front of someone makes you upset. Tears truly aren’t something one should be afraid of, but when they effect you as much as they do me, it’s hard.

I cry for a lot of things, I cry when I’m sad, I cry when something makes me overwhelmed with happiness, I cry when I feel confrontational or even when I write.
I’ve been having a rough time at work and a desire to move forward in a job that I feel under cuts my abilities. It upsets me on a daily basis and I feel trapped in it because I have this need to support not only myself but those around me. I drag myself down by doing this, and none of them ever really ask me to do it, I just feel guilt. I hate to see people struggle, I hate to see people stress, but in the end, I just put too much on my shoulders that at times like right now, I collapse under the pressure. But I continue to stay in the position I’m in, for fear of drowning, and in the incessant need to keep afloat. My legs are tiring, I want so badly to find something/someone to lean on so that I can’t stop treading water if only for a moment.

And perhaps its bad when you think, I need to check myself into some kind of psych ward, not because I’m afraid I’ll do harm to myself, but to just take a break. But even the thought of that, hurts because I know the effects it will have on my life later. I don’t want to be seen as crazy, and I surely don’t want to feel the way I have. I just want to know that it’s okay to feel this way, because I feel shame when I feel hopeless, I feel disgust in myself and the way others view me. I feel like it’s just another thing where “Jennie falls apart.”

Why am I so abnormal when it seems that the family around me managed to make it out of the life we lived intact, why couldn’t I?

Don't write, don't call I'll see you in the fall.

I've come to the conclusion that I am currently in a deep depression.

My life, holds nothing joyous, although I appear to try and find the good things.

Work, is sucking my life from me.

School is a big disappointment - not because of it particularly, but because of how I've handled the last two semesters. I'm disappointed in myself.

My life is bland. And really, I have no other creative way to say that.

My family keeps being battered with tragic and hard losses of wonderful family members. First my Uncle Jim who joined my grandmother in a loss against pancreatic cancer, and then my Aunt Carol who left this world in what I'm told was a spiritual way, the day after the 3rd Year anniversary of my own grandmothers passing.

I'm saddened by my distance and my inability to physically be there for family, but also for my inability to reach out. Instead of sharing my condolences to my family, I recoil back selfishly.

This song has been playing in my mind for the last few days since I heard of Aunt Carol's passing, so I'll leave you, my readers with this.

The Fall

Burned out Kitchens and burned out hearts..

I have several music related tattoos and none of the talent to show for it. My sister made fun of me once because the first tattoo I got was of a musical note. She explain that the idea of me having a music note tattooed on my back was like her getting a pen tattooed on her. Her point being that I had the writing instincts and she had more of the musical ability than I.

She’s right, I can’t sing, can’t play an instrument and my only real musical inclination is that I know how to push play. I also know how to sing loudly and off key in my car.

I’ve attempted writing songs, but never knew how to match a melody with my lyrics. I’ve attempted to write songs and have someone else match melody with my lyrics but never really had any luck with anyone wanting to put music behind my emotions. So, I stick to those who can sing/play an instrument/write a song to create the soundtracks to my life.

So because I can’t sing – I can’t have an obsession with music? It should be noted that in order to write, I have to have music playing. I’ve tried writing without, but am never able to get far. I have to have something going to get the mood right. All of my blogs are titled with a song. And also, most of my photographs are titled with a song as well. Hmm…


So tonight’s writing is response to my insane jealousy as I stumbled across some acoustic covers of popular songs. People with talent make me jealous. I wish I had any talent.

But then I realized I had to look at things from a different perspective. Because I have talents – I just tend to shed less light on them because I suffer from “Nothing is ever good enough.”

So I looked at a different perspective, if I couldn’t sing, if I couldn’t play an instrument (or rather lacked to obedience to practice and have patience) then perhaps I could photograph the people who could.

I wrote awhile that I fell out love with photography, or rather with my photography. I put the camera away and haven’t the drive to do much towards it. Just snap-shots here and there and the occasional request from The Star Wars kids mother for family portraits or a blog portrait for herself.

Then over Christmas my current employer asked me to bring my camera to a work-holiday party and take some photos. Pretty soon one of the photos I took was being used for a publication. At first I was angry for not getting credit, but then I looked at it as a stepping-stone. I know I have an eye for photography, and I know that I have taken some pretty awesome photos, but my photo taking skills are rusted.

This was sort of an awakening response for me. I want so badly to pick up my camera and get back into the photographing business, however my problem is I lack a certain assertiveness – those who have known me for a while might wonder when that happened because I never really lacked the ability to assert myself, but some how over the years I have fallen into the shadows of my own self.

I’ve allowed myself to be come intimidated by those around me and I continued to allow what others say sway my opinion of myself. I allow this EVERYDAY.

Admittedly, I’ve let several relationships I’ve had with people sway my opinion of myself. What they thought in angry moments I took to heart and what they thought in general, I became a sponge and adapted some of their perspectives. It’s this part of me that has caused me to withdrawal from the world. To gain an even negative view on myself.

I had a friend who brought such negativity in my life that even now I sit here and think wow, how did I let that in? I let it in because I craved attention and I got some of through him. That seems to be my very basic problem with my psyche. I’m weak in that I need the approval of others to thrive. I need constant reassurance, constant compliments to truly feel happy. I had several friends around me when I lived in Arizona who did this for me. But now, as I find my supply of friends dwindling and the reassurance lacking, my ability to thrust myself into the spot light is becoming hidden by my need to hide myself and limit my capabilities.

“The fault finder will find faults even in paradise. ” ~ Henry David Thoreau

It’s interesting that when I see people, I can’t help but tell them of all the changes I’ve had but the reality is, I still feel like a heart without a home, a musician without a talent, and a writer with no words.

A band that particularly speaks to me is Tucson native’s Ryanhood, these guys are full of so much energy and talent. I want so badly for them to be more than they are, to have more. To be recognized for what they can do and have done for people like me.

I remember one particular night, they played my birthday in the city –it was an exciting time for me because I remember constantly pleading for them to play a show on my birthday and as luck would have it they unknowingly did. And then I remember the week prior not wanting to go because I was, as I call it, in my dark place. I recall not wanting to go because it was something good, and I didn't feel like I deserved the happiness. But then, I remember being in the back snapping pictures and feeling the power behind the words. I remember having to stifle back tears because it was if they had reached inside of me and found my hearts pain. Specifically, I remember having to hold back tears that were willing themselves forwards when they played Second City. It punched me hard in the emotional state I was in. And this is what I talk about when I say I rely so much on music to write my soundtrack, to feel what I am unable to write or say.

I think what I need to do is let my metaphoric city burn down so that I can rebuild the inner me and finally finish something I’ve started, finally be a little more happy, a little less negative, a little less intimidated and a bit more determined.

“And though downtown is falling down on the ground, and all your hope has blown as ashes around. Brick by brick, beat by beat your heart will survive until the second city lights begin to rise.” – Second City (Ryanhood)

Side note: What is it about gospel music that has an ability to bring chills and goose bumps to my skin?

I need a doctor, doctor, to bring me back to life

My Grandmothers brother passed away from the same disease that killed her. When I got the news I was actually surprised at how hard it affected me. I was at work, and I burst into tears. I wasn’t even able to stop them as my boss looked on with this look that said, “oh shit, what do I do,” which is strange given the fact that I am indeed a crier.

Oh yes, I cry for a lot of things and quite often against my own will. I’m of the emotional variety that when faced with even the slightest pressure the tears will fall. When I feel I am in a confrontational situation, I cry. My emotions are overly sensitive and it truly is the one thing I hate the most about myself, because it shows my inability to hide my emotions.

Jim was one of the Uncles that was introduced later in my life where as my other uncles I often knew better because I saw them a few times a year, but Uncle Jim and Aunt Carol didn’t show up in my life until I was around 19-years-old when they purchased a home in Arizona and retired there. So when I burst into tears it took me back. But really, I was mourning the death of him, but also re-mourning the death of my grandmother.

I came back from Arizona somewhat different – I can’t truly say what exactly it was that made me different, but my views are slightly changed and I feel a little less hopeful. It’s sad to even say that, but I noticed it instantly at work, and then filtered into my daily life. Even more so than ever, I am beginning to loose the compassion I once had. I feel colder, harder and less forgiving of faults.

Is a house really a home when your loved ones are gone

A distant cousin who jokes that some of us are distant enough to be “kissin’ cousins” asked about the state of my writing since being in Arizona. I said I didn’t have anything, my head had just been in a fog. I lied.

This is the same cousin who writes so beautiful and expresses herself in any manner needed; may it be elegant, raunchy or raw. The same cousin that gave me inspiration to pick up the hypothetical pen again and flush the insides out. However, I’m not quite ready to be so raw, so un-cut. I’m not ready to dive so deep but rather, I skim the top of my ocean like I watched my grandfather do every evening he joined us for a swim at his house. And like my childhood self, I don’t have the nerve to swim to the deep end alone, but lack the ability to reach my hand out for help.

Saturday after I finally arrived I wrote “strange how this house continues to have that "Grandma's house" smell, but feels so empty and alone...” on my facebook status before drifting off to sleep. Of course the house lacked the smell of something delicious (Or garlicky/fishy) permeating the air and perhaps it did have a bit of staleness to it, I could still the presence of her, I could still feel it was her home.

The same home I trudged down the hill every afternoon from school after the bus ride home. The house that in my later teen years I hid in the closet when I decided I didn’t want to go to school and I could hear her walking back towards the washer. The same home I broke into time and time again because sleeping in my car seemed too scary and although unwelcome, a warm bed was a better option. The same home that I came to to find all the windows and doors locked and guarded. The same home that after many years I still feel guilt even walking in the front doors.

So as I drift to sleep, I instantly feel the guilt settle on me like a blanket. I feel guilt for leaving so quickly after she passed. For needing to get away from the memories that I so desperately want to wrap around myself on days where I find myself in my “dark and twisty” spot.

No, I’m not like Beth who so effortlessly lays it out so that you have no choice but to feel the emotion. And I can’t bring myself to completely let go of my dark and twisty spot for fear that once I do, I might have nothing left.

And even though at times I complain that I am a shell of a person but then change my mind begging to not feel at all, I can’t bare my soul for fear of the power that others might be able to see. I can’t write what I should write, because it seems like too much to feel. So instead, I pull the cold metal cord and turn the lights out and try and find myself at rest and at home.

"I’m coming home, I’m coming home, tell the World I’m coming home, let the rain wash away all the pain of yesterday.I know my kingdom awaits and they’ve forgiven my mistakes. I’m coming home, I’m coming home tell the World that I’m coming."

Quiet-like, some still day, I'm just going home..

For a History class that is supposed to be about the beginning of Western Civilization (Think Greek, Roman, and Pyramids and Egypt time) it's week 3 and my class still hasn't left The United States (but we have finally moved off the Syllabus) I'm not complaining and I'm actually starting to enjoy this class more than I thought I would.

One thing I like is that each class the Professor brings in visual aid (generally a picture) that he places at the front of the class. He'll reference it but he's really yet to fully explain any of the images until recently.

The image on Wednesday's class was this:
"Navy CPO Graham Jackson with tears of grief streaming down his cheeks as he plays 'Goin' Home' on the accordion while Pres. Franklin D. Roosevelt's body is carried from the Warm Springs Foundation where he died suddenly on April 12, of a stroke."

I get the motion towards the fact that February is Black history month and he appears to be someone who has researched the Black Culture thoroughly going so far as to host every year a Black history extravaganza in the student commons. But I was still curious as to how this had anything to do with Western Civilization. I still am not completely sure what it does either. I just know that it shows and tells of a moment our nation was greatly effected. Everyday people, stood at train tracks watching as Roosevelt's body was taken from Warm Springs to DC. It was a time when we felt something as a country. It was a "Where were you when Kennedy was assassinated" or for my generation, perhaps the way we felt when the planes hit the Twin Tours and shocked our senses.

It was a moment, like Tucson's recent tragedy, but also it sticks out in my mind because it makes me think of the revolution in Egypt. It's interesting to actually see something like that happen, a nation who demands change coming together. To see that we can peaceably assemble and demand change and possibly even see change.

During his lecture on Wednesday he read a quote by A.L Rowes, a 20th Century historian that said, " History is a great deal closer to poetry than it is generally realize; in truth, I think it is in essence the same." And I began to think in a literature sense, I had never really thought of history in an "English" sort of way, but the connection really was true.

"O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won"

A quote famous poem by Walt Whitman that reference to Abraham Lincolns death. Okay, lets be honest, we all thought of The Dead Poets Society right? And don't you have the urge to stand on your desk right now? Viva Revolutions.

Hell, even the Star Spangled Banner, has great historical references to the time period. It really is the story of the time.

I've always been aware of the literature references to history, but never really the poetical sense. So it was an interesting way to tie two subjects I love together quite nicely and also make me look at the world in a more romantic poetic way.

To add to the visual aid and continue the idea that history is poetry, the Professor also had a record player to which he played the song referenced in the photograph. "Goin Home."

This song struck me because I thought of how last August I walked the ground of Arlington Cemetery and I can say that the same humbling feeling that fell over me while walking through the cemetery fell upon me when listening to the song and looking at this image. And I had been, as the teacher put it "doing history."

I agree with him. History isn't about memorizing the Gettysburg address, or reading a text book, but rather experiencing it. I live in an area that is rich with our countries founding history that and I truly love being able to experience it the way I am able to. I'm grateful for the choices I've made that have brought me to where I am.

And maybe I'll finally be able to complete a history course?

If you're interested the song can be found Here

Roxanne, you don't have to wear that dress tonight

*DISCLAIMER* For the most part, most of my blogs contain photographs of myself, my friends or something I've shot in my double life of J.C Photography. The image used in this blog post was taken from a google search.

Reaction.

I woke up this morning, running late per usual because I can't seem to get out of bed in the winter... or lately anyway. I get in my car and start driving and what do you know, I have a flat tire. (Yes, That's the 4th one in the past 4 months... maybe I need new tires?)

Why do I have a flat tire? Because the rim is bent. Normally, this is the part where I would get angry, try and lay lifelessly and wish I were dead. I wish I kidding about that last part. Often, if things get rough, I get depressed and wonder why life is even worth living with there's always this constant struggle. And lately, I've been feeling unusually depressed, mopey even.

Normally, there would have been tears.

Today, I didn't panic, I simply woke up Daniel, asked to use his car and then proceeded with the day. I was worried about the tire, wondering what kind of financial cost this was going to be (Second rim this winter to bend because of pot holes) but mostly, I kept my composure, and I didn't pray for death.

Progress.

I'll catch phrase our President here, "Yes we (and by we, I mean me) Can!" (You're welcome Ashley.)

Seems like I should be getting somewhere

"Runaway train never going back, wrong way on a one way track. Seems like I should be getting somewhere, somehow I'm neither here no there."

Work continues to frustrate me, life continues to drag on, and school, well school is starting to look hard. Or perhaps the class load I took on was entirely ridiculous? Math truly makes my brain hurt. People make my brain hurt. A lot.

There are so many people my age who are struggling with the realities of life and don’t know what they should do in certain situations. This continues to leave me dumbfounded. How is it that I, someone so broken and so completely lost, have somehow managed to grasp the reality of things well or decent enough to know when changes need to be made?

Okay, so I really suck at studying and getting homework done. I hate it. And I’m less inclined to shovel the sidewalk after a major snow storm. But, when I know I’m sinking, I find ways to stay up. I ditch the things I love, no matter how heart breaking it is. (The Star Wars Boys) And I pick myself up and I find away.

Why is my generation floundering around looking for bait, looking for the easy way, when our parents and the people before them worked hard to get the things they want? Am I the only one unsatisfied with the personification that the 20-somethings are presenting to the nation? I feel like we’re all a bunch of pansies.

"Little out of touch, little insane, just easier than dealing with the pain."

I carried a watermelon.

Watching the Black Eyed Peas bastardize a childhood memory during the half-time show prompted me to watch the final scene in Dirty Dancing again. Everyone is familiar with Dirty Dancing, and it is probably on most woman's Top Favorite Movies, and lets be honest, there are a lot of great songs in it.

As a child I watched this movie pretty much everyday for a year around the age of 4-5. And every time I watched it, I'd pause it at the last scene, run upstairs and change into my sisters red Polk-a-dot dress so that I too could dance the final dance. (Or fall down the stairs on my way down in the stiletto heels that were MUCH too big for me feet...one of those things)

I mean, the whole movie I have a neat connection with not just with the memory. My grandma grew up knowing Gery Orbach, the father in the movie. My mother managed to get me Bill Medley's autograph because I was so infatuated with the movie and song. (See, my mom's not all THAT bad?) And So what if it wasn't until I was 12 that I finally even got the whole plot/meaning of the movie and had that "ohhhhhh" moment after the 400-some odd time watching it. It's a memory I actually can recall, and its a story my mother loved telling me.
And yes, I did have a massive crush on Patrick Swayze, who didn't. And watch this movie come full circle to relevance to me now. Patrick Swayze was diagnosed with Pancreatic cancer the same week my grandmother was, and I hated him for once in my life. My massive crush, was dwindled down because when people asked what my grandmother was diagnosed with, or why she died they would bring up Patrick. It seem to play down the seriousness and very tragic loss that I just personally felt and witnessed, and it made me incredibly angry, even if I did understand the struggles his family was going through, it pierced my heart.

I don't think any movie has ever made much of an imprint as this one. Dirty Dancing truly has worked its way into my history in more ways than a childhood memory. It's interesting with movies and music can take such foot hold into your life and vine its way into your history, past and present.

Because like Baby, "I'm scared of everything. I'm scared of what I saw, I'm scared of what I did, of who I am..."

And to continue with quoting cliches:

Dirty dancing, "I owe it all to you..." for creating such an impact.

And by the way, I fully plan on playing "Take me Home Tonight" by Eddie Money at my wedding, should I ever get married, which totally has the Ronettes in it... "Just like Ronnie said, be my little baby"

Induction then destruction...

I have been thinking about the way I fight and the type of personality I come off as. Strong. I fight strong, and I have a strong way of appearing the one in charge. It's no wonder, in my teenage years I had a problem with authority. Even now, I still do.

Things at work have been stressful, we're out of product for many different frame styles which is causing back orders and 3x the work we usually deal with. When I started the position, it was a very "everyone is on equal grounds" start. I was treated no different than any of the others that worked there. Then, they hired a new person and it appears I became a child compared to the "older" people working there. I was constantly scolded for things that others did and it was crunching. I fought back. There. There's my problem with authority resurfacing. If I feel wronged, I immediately get into defense mode. I let my mouth run, and then I regret it. The words "My stupid mouth, has gotten me in trouble again" really can represent me as a whole.

My mouth gets the best of me.Every.Time.


On top of that, things at home have been quite, crunching. Its had me in an unusual shade of blue. In this mode of questioning motives, questioning what I wanted out of life and if I was currently on the right path. It's also made me miss home. Okay, really this weather has me missing Tucson's sun. That's about it. Okay, perhaps I miss Eegee's too. (Before you say it, family/friends are always a given.)

Speaking of weather - it's been brutal. Every week since the year started has been some kind of weather catastrophe. Not to mention the lack of delegation on my local town's level. I'm annoyed. I'm annoyed at what government is allowed to do, and the inability for the "average" person to really fight back. It shakes me. And then I worry, will I let my stupid mouth get me in trouble again?

The story? Daniel's car was towed 12 hours prior to a winter storm. There were several hoops and a large chunk of $$ later to even get it back. The reason for the tow? They say the car was "blocking a plow from entering our street" If that truly were the case, they should have towed 90% of the cars on our street alone. His car was easiest to get to, and thus we paid the price. And the agitation just keeps getting worse. After this "Weather Emergency" they issued 5 hours AFTER towing the car, they didn't even plow our road until 5PM on the day we had 12 inches of snow. And when they did plow? They leave a good 2 inch solid block of ice/snow that made my rode into some sort of off-roading event every time i wanted to leave the neighborhood. A week later, they finally remove the ice/snow mixture. So with the run around phone calls, the 5 different stories we're given by Union Police Department,and the lack of actual plowing it's been rough.

Then there's the towing company. Those ass holes. Not only did they charge us half an arm and part of a leg to get the car from their lot, but they ruined Daniel's breaks. Of course they will claim they were not responsible for the damage caused to the car because the UPD contacted them for their "services." The issue? It's legalized theft because the government did it. In this case, the government was WRONG. But the reality is? I'll have to bend over and take it.

Don't get me wrong, I love the freedoms being a United States Citizen offers me, but I feel like people have this idealistic vision of how great it is to be free, when in reality, the government really does push us into corners and take what they want and need. Leaving the citizen's raped of so much.

I'm angry, I know. I told you, I have a problem with authority.

"Authority should derive from the consent of the governed, not from threat of force!"

And another thing, what is it about working for a government office they people feel the need to be complete jerks? I mean really, you are customer service, act like it. Don't cop an attitude when I ask you a simple question, and don't treat me like I'm a rapist or murderer. Thanks.

*sigh*

When the broken hearted people living in the world agree

Lately it feels like all of those around me are on this kick of over analyzing everything or over simplifying problems. Or perhaps it’s that the pessimist in me cannot deal with the optimistic outlook because it just seems so skewed and unnatural to be so optimistic. Oh sure, have a positive outlook, but be realistic.

I suppose you just can’t pretend that the holocaust never happened, and perhaps the idea of “out of sight out of mind” isn’t quite realistic for some things. It almost seems naive, and hell, we all want to go back to our childish naivety, but really?

I suppose my heart is heavy and dark in the wake of the terrible happenings in Tucson, in an area all too close to my home where the connections are more than just I knew a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy, that talked to a guy who once knew a guy that experienced it. Instead it was a direct hit on family and friends, and I feel it more. I feel the devastation in my hometowns heart. I feel it in mine.

I also feel anger and contempt for the how political this devastation has become, how fingers are being pointed and not necessarily at the right people. Or how about we stop pointing fingers and mourn the deaths of several people. How about we stop pointing fingers and look at ourselves, look at what we’ve allowed ourselves to become.

One of my favorite YouTube personalities put it bluntly, but also a humoristic spin to it. We’ve become so outrageous in our politics. People aren’t just people with opposing views. No, we’re cut throat. It’s more for the dramatic effect, like saying “If you vote for Obama, Old people will die!” But mostly, our politics have become violent and disrespectful.

So in the wake of such negativity it’s so hard to really see the silver lining, but humanitarian in me has found one. In the wake of such sorrow, I’ve seen a town, a community that was so separated; band together in support. And I guess really, Martin Luther King Jr. said it best:

"Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out hate: only love can do that."

And the Beatles were on to something when they said “all you need is love," and "Let it Be." I believe that.

Thanks for showing your love and support Tucson. You give me hope.