What to do when hate is no longer a four letter word but rather an endless string of crazy ramblings, run on sentences, commas, and other nonsense.

Today I'm a little hateful. I know that hate is a strong word, but, on my honor, I swear I'm not hating people, or even actions really, just situations and things (and stuff and junk). For instance, I hate that this grogginess will not leave my head, no matter how positive I am about a good day, no matter how much healthy tea I drink, no matter how much I wish (hope, pray, do a mythical rain dance for, etc.) I was back in bed sleeping peacefully with my dog and husband (oops, I think I'm supposed to put the one I love more before the other, or maybe that's what I did (*wink*), just kidding....kinda). I am hateful of the stack of dishes that seems to follow me from home to work (staring at me with it's googly plate/cup/bowl eyes) and the stack of laundry that isn't far behind. I am hateful of the insecurity that plagues my morning routine, of knowing the strength that insecurity will gain when I arrive at my office filled with marathon running, rock climbing, eating lentils and kale everyday (sweet, thoughtful, encouraging) co-workers. Most of all, I am hateful of all the little things that seem insignificant that I would love to obliterate from my list, my ever growing (festering seems like a better word) list of to-dos, will-dos, don't dos, don't want to dos. 8 million, no, 800 million little things to hate, to loathe, to detest, to scorn, to stomp on, scream at, sneer at, pout at, kick, punch, and karate chop all ninja style with the furry of a thousand blazing little hateful dagger filled suns while yelling indiscriminate things posing as witty repartee...at.

See? It's a problem right? Its not just in my head, oh wait, yes it is, and THAT is the problem right? Its all in my head, which, biologically speaking, is nothing more than slimy, pinkish/whitish tinged coils shoved into my skull sending tiny electrical signals and releasing chemicals and hormones and other sciencey, fancy doing stuff, stuff. BUT to me (cause that what you really want to know right? oh... you don't? well...to bad) it is like a constant elementary school game of red rover when your 1st grade class is playing against the far bigger, far stronger 5th graders and you just keep sending over kid after kid after kid and one by one BAM! each of those kids is close lined, knocked to the ground, birds and stars adorning their vision unable to regain their reasoning behind participating in this ludicrous game (seriously people there is a reason why schools won't allow it to be played anymore, its brutal, I believe in my day there were broken bones and concussions involved), and that ladies and gentlemen is what it feels like to be a thought in my head. It's a pretty picture huh?

So maybe I should see a therapist (*scoff*), or maybe an exorcist (*giggle*), or maybe, just maybe I should buy a million dollars worth of chocolate pudding and fill an Olympic sized pool with it an swim around all day, wait, that wasn't relevant (or was it...). I don't know, maybe its the pessimist in me that daily beats up the optimist nerd and takes his lunch money(I'm thinking about buying the optimist a gym membership, he really needs to bulk up) or maybe its just the fact that I take things way to seriously, or maybe I just need to shut up. What I do know is that being a little hateful can ruin your day, even when its only 10am, and that my friends is no fun, because this day barely had a chance, I mean it is Monday and we all know that this guarantees an automatic day fail, but the hatefulness, that just makes it worse and I've got to find a way to fix that, or channel it, or...something. I'm open to suggestions.

As long as they don't involve snakes. Or tomatoes.

You have to draw the line somewhere.

(You might not realize this but I am actually kind of normal. I swear.)

Happy Monday!

It wednesday and that, well, that's just sad.

If this blog is any indication ( I say indication you might say "red flag"), I obviously try much to hard at, well, pretty much everything. So I'm a bit dramatic and I probably think too much of myself (or maybe I think so little of myself that I have confidence in my lack of confidence)? Who says that's a crime? Ok, it might lead to crime considering they are traits in 2/3 of serial killers but hey, who doesn't like Dexter right? I love Dexter, and if you don't well then you probably just aren't as cool as me and therefore should be going about your business continuing to not read my patheic/manic ramblings about Dexter. Anyway the result of this um, epiphany, is that I am now going to try and not take myself so seriously (if I hear you laughing I might cry, and my tears are tiny ninjas so watch it). Here is a list of recent discoveries/events in my life;



*I really like laughing cow Swiss cheese wedges, even though I hate Swiss cheese (don't judge me, someday a tiny snake will pop out of one of the holes and bite your lip and then who will be judging who, huh? )

* Canada is a great country and they make the best hash browns ever. Ever.

* I ran a 5k, which was hard and it hurt, signed up for an 8k and didn't do it. Take that consistency and follow through!

* My husband started cooking dinner. This makes me happy, and sad because, well, I don't know it just makes me sad.

* I started watching Dexter ( are you bored by this list yet? Oh, you already stopped reading. Oh. Well. Um. Yeah.)

* I started reading a strange melange of blogs and as you can see I have also started using fancy french words that mean ordinary things. Pamplemousse!

* I really like coffee, and tea, but not together cause that would just be weird.



and then there are these,



And.....I'm done.

Hoping to be more clever tomorrow, or at least less, needy...


But don't hold out much hope.

Just working the cobwebs out.

The clouds a rumble, they seethe and storm, as through the mist they come in form. The horsemen, baring steely down their gazed affixed against my rooted ground. Pull up sharp; the pain in my chest beats wildly, madly, a beast to be let, a gaze is locked, an iced chill slides melting betwixt the fire in our eyes. I strain against the bonds held fast by the wishes and wants that have long since past and in that mirror reflected back a reel plays the highlight into the sputtering blackness of tears that bred the storming seas of wanton love and un-chased dreams, of boats that were built and never sailed, on friendships grown but left to stale. A catch in my throat, my sad scream dies, his hand reaches forth to grasp my prize. A battle rages, to fight or to lose, to relinquish the pain which deepens the bruise or to hold it fast to my heaving breast and endure the abuse and in that battle I'm transported again to the carefree memories of childhood games, a moment of light, a glint and flash, the coin of choice spins bright and fast loaded with promise and decision we stare, each silently hoping that triumph is theirs. And with a jolt my eyes fling wide, a gasp escapes as hope returns, the reel flickers black and the calm is churned. My head is lifted, the beast is at rest, as the horseman's hand retreats to his chest. A breath and a nod are all that's left as into the torrent they ride abreast, with a lightning streak and a thunder clap the four dark figures ride into the dwindling gap. A shudder is brought as the gray retreats as through the clouds the sun now peaks. Weakness overcomes as I fall to my knees my eyes are raised as with the sky I beg and please for the blessing and beauty of another day. To see through the darkness the light that shines beyond the scope of yours and mine, to find favor with the ones you love and beg forgiveness from the ultimate above. To see in ourselves not failure or pain but to abide in the innate goodness that exists once again.

Breaking the Bone To Set it In Place.

There are just days where the contemplations of life bring your body and your mind to the breaking point. The living conception that there are things present in the world today; feelings, emotions, events, that can bring so much pain and suffering to a person that they will to make their heart stop from the agony of it all. There are days when my heart hurts, when I observe the terror and hate that we inflict upon humanity for the good of ourselves and my eyes want to burst with tears and I must my clench my fists and tighten my mouth to keep from my own anger and pain form adding insult to injury. Each day I see the drawn faces of parents who will never know the joy of dancing at their childs wedding, or holding their grandchildren, I see them struggle to understand why, why their child can't hold a pencil or blow bubbles, why they can't will their child to speak so that they can understand their wants and needs more clearly. I see their disappointment in themselves, their wonder of what they did. I walk the steps to my cozy home and see the disgruntled men and women wandering, picking up cans, trying to find what little hope of a meal or comfort in the few dollars they can scrounge and I hear the snearing and jearing from society wondering why they can't better themselves for the good of "respectable people", why they can't sober up, why they can't pull themselves up out of their situation, and yet those same "respectable people" can't see their own friends struggling with the loss of jobs, scrimping and saving to buy their children schools clothes or this weeks groceries, selling the car to pay the morgage and putting on a smiling face so know one will know that their just not making it. It makes me wonder how more people don't just break-down and cry from it all. The feeling of helplessness, the charge of ingnorance and intolerence, the enormity of the problem and lack of awarness, the wish to solve the worlds problems and the complete and crushing knowledge that you will never, ever, be able to.

But, then I remember the joy of a wathing child running around a darkned room without abandon, smile blazing, because of the shining glow stick you just handed them, or the parent laughing with tears in their eyes because their child just said a 6 word sentance for the first time in their lives. The simple joy of seeing the smiles of others when you open a door for them or just say hello on your morning walk. Small, unabrtusive things that bring my heart back from the brink and remind me that joy and kindess in small amounts infinatly trump the pain that humans create for ourselves. This is what my conception of life has become, what reminds me of my own wish to brighten the lives of others. Life is not seeing the good through the bad, it isn't the light at the end of a tunnel. Light is ever present, it doesn't come after the dark, it is the dark. Beauty is not conceptualized in a leafy tree blowing in a summer breeze, or a painted sunset. Its in a city scape darkened by rain clouds. I feel as though our lives are puncuated by waiting, waiting for something we want to happen, and we become so wrapped up in waiting that we forget that life is not created by the signs or the actions of what is around us, it created by us. Only we can act for ourselves, only we can create the life we want, waiting for others to act for you will create a life of wishing, and as beautiful and perfect as wishes can be, they will never taste or sweet or feel as wonderful as the truth and being of reality.

And so I charge myself, and you, to remember what it is to stop living through vision and perception and start taking action to create the life we want, here and now, with our hands and bodies instead of with our minds.

A simple cache of empty poetic sentances, arranged artfully.

Oh, but I am a slave to my own eternal mediocrity, try to fail and fail to try to see where good intensions lie. Why a shooting star falls short, revealing unknow the distance of its course. tales and debris. Or what we could only see, is only what we make and the drastic measures tha we take, to ends of luxury, rich with comfort, filled with this and that, of sorts. Things to be regretted. Or, all we are and ever, will be, won't be, could and only, should be lonely in a world of placeless pity on those so wholly undeserving, where we become, over and over, not what we're meat, but the measly half of what could be better spent.

Power,Will ?Is there a Will Power?? Will Power anyone?

Ok. I'll admit it. I'm living behind a cardboard facade of an active life, which is now beginning to crumple around me, and as my cozy laze-about retreat is revealed I stare upon the stark reality of my life and I realize that now is the time to ask for your help, because obviously I can't manage that on my own.

I once used to cook and took delight in making meals and trying new recipes. I now eat lean cu sines for lunch everyday.

I used to love to walk. Rain or shine, hot or cold, night or day, and I now struggle to pull myself out of bed every morning to walk my incessantly hyper active dog.

I used to be creative. I sang, played instruments, dabbled in photography, now files of pictures stay trapped inside my forgotten camera unappreciated and un-edited and my vocal exercise consists of singing along to the radio.

Yet, even as I can hear the endless real of excuses begin their faint warbling track in my mind. Sure this has been the busiest year of my life. Graduation, moving, new jobs, getting a dog, marriage, and now on to being an auntie, but what are those things compared to my passions in life? I mean, of course they are important, life changing in some respects, but they should only add to me as a person, not subtract. Admittedly those things all took time, and in many cases maximized it, but what is stopping me now? What is holding me back from savoring the retreat I used to find in a good walk, the emotional release of a song, or the joy of a painstakingly prepared meal. The answer, I suppose, is obvious, it's not my life, it's Me. I realize this makes the statements and questions above completely pointless, but what is a Blog if not self-indulgent?

I want to pose the challenge to myself, and to those of you who are willing to help me, to regain the passions I once enjoyed. Firstly, some conditions, I work 10 hour days which means I often don't get home until 6:30 or 7:00 at night which is a major obstacle to cooking a nice meal every night for the simple reason that when I get home I am famished and have neither the time nor the patience to cook. So anyone who can get me around that doosey gets a gold star.

I have recently found that a good nights sleep really helps me be less lethargic in the mornings, however when you get home at 6:30 add time to eat, take the dog out again, and watch the news or a tv show it has magically become 9 o'clock and you have had no time to go to the grocery store or read that blog article you wanted to read and so you stay up till 10, which becomes 11 which leads to not enough sleep. Although I used to avoid the snooze it has recently become my constant companion, and as much as I hate that it limits my time to be able to take the dog out and leaves me rushed and frantic to get out the door in the morning. This will, I'm afraid, become an even larger problem when I start taking public transportation again which requires me to get up even earlier.

So, I barely have time to cook or walk the dog...when am I supposed to find time to sing again or take pictures? The weekends are basically my only time to spend with my husband, when he is there, or have a social life, which is hanging on by a thread as it is.

Excuses, excuses. Its all I've got. So. Help. Please? Be harsh. Be nice...I don't care at this point. I just need someone to point me in a direction that doesn't lead to an endless cycle of missed opportunities and boring routine.

When the end is near, think of me.

Quote of the Day: Life is a strange and cruel mistress. Sometimes you just have to accept it, learn to be a masochist, and love the pain that she brings. 

And with that cheerful quote the next stage of my life begins. A week from tomorrow I will walk across the stage at the Rose Garden and accept the diploma which has slowly sapped the life from me for the last four years. All of the sleepless nights, the procrastination, the tears, the rage; All of it poured into an 8 1/2 by 11 inch piece of paper stuffed in the a leather sleeve. Man, I was really hoping this was going to be more climactic....

When you envision the end of your college career as a young high school student, you imagine grandure, you imagine the praise and the hope, the high paying job with the possibility of advancement and the house that is soon on your horizon, you imagine the world at your feet waiting to respect you as an adult with a degree, but is this pomp, are these circumstances real? 

No. Those dreams, those things, they are a figment of the young, naive imagination. 

Ok so perhaps my pessimism is getting the best of me. I did have the luxury of getting a job, with good pay, and benefits. Is it in my field? No, but then again I was lucky enough to graduate from college in the midst of a recession so, this is definitely the bright side of the whatever analogy you would like to insert here.  But I guess what I am saying is that, you commit to a higher education hoping to come out of it ahead of the pack, with a sense of accomplishment, feeling like you just spent all that time and money on something that you are going to put to hard use, and I suppose that my ending feels a bit, well. Lacking. 

I am lucky to have had the wonderful support, love, and  guidance along this journey but I just can't help but feel that I am letting down all of the people who helped me through. I know that a job in a time like this is a Bird in Hand, but, alas, the disappointment remains, flourishing in my mind and destroying any excitement that tries to escape.

Yet, with all the moans and groans I know that I am fortunate and I should accept this as the next step, and even though I may not know the direction I'm traveling in but, hell, does anyone really know that?