Brothers, Boys, & Buttfaces .... feeling chipper

Alright, so I'll try to make this quick as I haven't posted in over a week, I've gotten some lovely feedback, & I have to be asleep half an hour ago to be up for work in the morning.

On Brothers:
I'm sending him a journal. I love the guy - I can't help it. He's got problems, but he's my only sibling & honestly, he's a pretty smart guy with a great personality when he's not on something. Dumb boy. Anyway, he hasn't written, and though I thought that was going to make me feel bad, it doesn't. I mentioned before how he'd written the last time he was in a program, but I never wrote him back. I had started a response, but when I got more than half way through with it, I got mad and stopped. Mad at him for waiting so long to reconnect & mad at myself for "falling" for it. We talked about it very openly later when he'd been home for awhile so I figured it was water under the bridge.

I'm trying to see things from his point of view though, and I think not getting a response hurt him more than he let on. I'm gonna give him the benefit of the doubt here. When he's clean and we're around each other, we really do get along very well (it's just those times are so few & far between). He's mentioned before about wanting to connect with me but having feelings of guilt, so maybe he just doesn't know how to go about it.

All that to say this: In his letter to my mom this week he said he was ABSOLUTELY not going back to his wife (believe me, he's messed up but she's the poster child of dysfunction). That's always been his problem before when he's gotten into a program or moved out. He does great on his own but then they get back together & it all falls apart. She just isn't willing to change. Anyway, he told my mom it really is over this time (we'll see) & he's signed up for a 3 month program at the facility he's in & possibly may even be staying for a year. It's a local place, and as long as he keeps a part-time job, they make allowances for time out to see family more than in the shorter programs.

Ha. All of that to say this: I'm going to make the first step here. The kid has always been a writer. Poetry, stories, journaling... he's always had spirals and stray notes around full of stuff he's written. So, I got him a journal, a nice one - leather bound, something that he can set aside and really pour his thoughts into. I don't think he's ever really had one - just the spirals. Maybe it won't really matter to him, but I know that it makes a real difference in the quality of what I draw or write when I have a nicer book rather than just stray paper. I put more effort into it. Anyway, I'm going to make the gesture. I'm not going to make a big production of it, just going to drop it off with the lady at the desk & go... let him do with it what he will - All I'm even writing in it is: Love Leah.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous.

On Boys & Buttfaces.
I'll elaborate on these more later as I took too much time on the Brothers. As usual, I had more to say than I realized. But to summarize:

Boys... don't listen. I move slowly. I tell them up front. They say this is cool, but then they get all crazy. For real man, be calm. New "possible" boy seems to be repeating the pattern, but I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt here also and a little more time to calm down.

Buttfaces... another satisfied customer. My polite helpfulness results in a completely opposite response from belligerent(sp?) angry man. My "attitude" disgusted him so badly that he declared he no longer even wanted the book he had ordered. To which I said (shrugging one shoulder), "Um... ok"
Yeah he... he really didn't like that so much. There was more. It was humorous. It involved my manager.
(Had I not had a ginormous amount of wonderful customers all day to counteract his angry retardedness, I might not feel the same way, but I did - and I am still laughing.)

Ah - life. It is an amusing thing. *sigh*

Peace out

Here we go again...

My brother went in for 28 days not 10. Shows how much I know - that makes much more sense anyway. So, my mom and dad got a letter from him today, (huh - it starts) and she tried to show it to me. I stopped her.

She's going to see him tomorrow. Well, she can't exactly see him yet, not until next week. She's just delivering some stuff to him: a letter from she & my dad and I don't know what else.

I'm anxious. The last time he was in I got the aforementioned apology sob-story Please Forgive Me I'm a changed person letter. My parents got theirs, then I got mine. I dread this.

Ha!

Funny. I dread getting another one almost as much as I dread not getting one. Hmm.

*sigh* Someone get me off this ride.

Tomorrow is my mother's birthday too - 49 yrs old . . . and she's spending it dropping off things to her son in rehab. Happy Birthday!

Oh well. I have an opening shift tomorrow so I'll be off in time to for me and my dad to take her to dinner where, if all goes well, there will be margaritas. That'll make it happy for sure. =)

Coming Soon ... "Help! I Have Too Many Interests!"

Just a note of interest. I was watching my nieces as they swam in the pool today and there was a rather large water beetle that just kept swimming around them (not unlike Jaws).
It occurred to me that water beetles look an awful lot like watermelon seeds ... with legs.

Guilt Trip - Pssh!

Okay, so another customer encounter.

By now, it's probably no revelation that I work in a bookstore, so the other day I had this girl ask me to help her find this particular book, well a journal really, but not just any journal. This was one of those nifty little things that give you suggestions on what to write on each page like... "List your favorite words and why they're your favorite." .... or your favorite quotes, memories and the like. In general it's whole purpose is to inspire creativity and warm fuzzy feelings.

Of course I didn't know all this before I found it for her. Before I found it, it was merely another title with a human request. However, once I'd put it in her hand she just lit up and started gushing about how excited she was to have it and just went on and on about all the things she wanted to do with it. The phone was ringing and I was supposed to answer it, but I didn't have the heart to interrupt her.

She was just so enthralled in the romance and idealism of the whole thing and started talking about how she intended on starting a blog about it so maybe other people would read it and be inspired. I was about to mention that I had just started a blog too and was really pleased with it so far. I don't usually get too personal with customers but her enthusiasm was infectious!

But then she said it, " Cause you know, I hate those people who blog and all they do is just complain about their lives and stuff. You know? Like who wants to read about that? It's so annoying and depressing. The world is dark enough. Like what do most of us really have to complain about anyway?"

Alright, so that being a few days ago and my short-term memory not really allowing for such concise dialogue memorization, I winged that a lil bit, but it's pretty much the gist of what she said. My heart sank.

I quickly shut my mouth and thought, Holy Crap! I am "those people!" All I've done in this so far is gripe about my life. What is wrong with me?! I'm spewing bad juju all over the place! I used to be just like this bright-eyed optimistic girl standing in front of me full of idealism and optimism and.... NAIVETY!

I started to feel bad, but then I thought, Pssh! She's still living in that highschool bubble. She doesn't have problems. I mean the biggest thing she and most of her little friends have to worry about is next week's math test, the pimple that just popped up on their nose, and omg! Justin hasn't texted me back in like 5 minutes, my world is just over!!

Just wait 'til she starts having to pay her own bills, pay her way through college, gets her heart broken for the first time, sees friends come and go, gets stabbed in the back more then her fair share, and finally realizes that life isn't a Disney movie and there aren't always happy endings. Then lets just see what she wants to blog about then! ... Jerkface hypocrite!

Haha.... ok so I got a little carried away there.

Suffice it to say, I took a little of what she said to heart and though I did decide to start inserting some more inspirational stuff along the way -heck, I'm still that little optimistic girl somewhere inside here - I also feel that I sufficiently warned my readers what this blog would be. I mean, just scroll to the top and you'll see the by-line.

So, true to myself I shall stay and vent away.

Oh, and she really was just a cute little thing. She actually asked if it would be ok to come back and show me what she'd done with the journal. I told her of course, I'd love to see it! Like she said, the world is dark enough. Far be it from me to be one of those people who takes away some of her sunshine. I may even buy the thing myself.

Thanks - there's life out there after all.

Ok, so I just wanted to say a little thanks for those of you who've found this page and commented or emailed me. Of course I started doing this in hopes someone would find it, but I'm still a little surprised anyone actually did... and then took the time to read my stuff.

It's slightly unnerving that it's been read but oddly comforting too. Anyway, it's only been up a couple weeks and 5 people have responded. So cool. I appreciate the encouragement and kind words.

Also, the blogs have been a little dark and unhappy thus far but please stick with me. I promise, things are usually much cheerier.

Peace Out - Leah

This was not my intention.

My brother went into rehab again for the abuse of "prescription" drugs 7 days ago. He went in voluntarily. He has 3 days left. He cannot call anyone while he is there and no one can call him. He did not call me before he went in. I do not expect him to call me when he comes out.

. . . I'm ok with that.

Well . . . that's not entirely true. The other two times he went into a rehab program (he is only 27 years old or will be in November) he got all apologetic with me and tried to "reconnect" as he called it... "I love you, you've always been a great little sister. I'm sorry I've been such a crappy brother. I want to know all about you now... " Anyway, those episodes fizzled just as quickly as they sparked, their flames only being kindled by the many lonely hours of reflection that rehab provides in addition to the several group sessions where other grown men who traded their souls and potential for a fleeting high all crowd around one another and admit how sad and pathetic they've become and vow to change.

Once immersed in reality of everyday life though. . . hmm. You've seen the t-shirts I'm sure: "Rehab is for quitters!" Yeah, that's more like it. I guess you could say I'm a tad jaded.

I actually hope he doesn't call. I wish he'd never had children too. Don't get me wrong, I adore my nieces. They're my only real connection to him (well, other than DNA I suppose). If they weren't there, I'd be more able to truly distance myself from him and his drama - he almost overdosed a couple months ago. Well, he actually did - he was resparating - choking on his own vomit while unconscious. His wife was unconscious next to him from the same drug and had her 89 yr old grandmother whom they live with not "happened" to wake up and hear them to call 911, he'd be dead.

Not an exaggeration, not "well, he would've been fine if she'd just turned him over. I can't believe you were so dramatic and called 911 'cause that got the police involved and now CPS and that was just stupid." Oh, those are the words of his charming wife. (First let me say CPS is an absolute joke but that's for another blog another time). Also, the 89 yr old grandmother had turned him over and pounded on his back and yelled in his ears for him to wake up... all to no avail. Even the E.M.T.s struggled to get him to breathe again.

*sigh* but I digress

CPS found no real danger with that apparently and allowed them to keep their children then and two times now since then for other situations. It's insane. If the girls weren't involved I could wash my hands of him and let him do what he's going to do and not care. Well, underneath I would still care, it's only that the wounds could heal y'know? As it is, the scar tissue keeps getting ripped up over and over because of them. I can't push him out of my mind with them in the picture. (That sounded slightly sinister - I didn't mean for it to.) I can't abandon them - like I said once before - they're angels. Seeing them and knowing the crap they go through every day just hurts. We're trying to things the right way - the legal way - to protect them and but the law protects the addicts. It all makes me feel helpless.

I hope he doesn't call. He had been doing really well for a month leading up to his relapse. I had rolled my eyes when my parents told me that and said "Yeah, sure - I'll believe it when I see it." I didn't realize I'd gotten my hopes up this last time until they told me he'd (surprise!) relapsed. But alas - I had once again believed in my brother. Though I have absolutely no reason to any more. Having a heart is a very large life inconvenience.

Also, my randomness has stepped in again for this blog. I started out with the intention of commenting on a movie I'd seen tonight and it became a sob story. Geez. Anyway, I'll put this clip of it here and maybe comment on it later. It's called "Bella". I didn't want to watch it at first because my friend's description of it made it sound like a mushy love story deal which I am just completely over at the moment, but it was something entirely different. It was real, and unique, and not at all what I thought it would be. It inspired me. I think everyone with a heart (we poor souls) should see it.

Uplifted

I'm not completely naive but despite all the horrible things I have seen humans commit in my life, both personal and just in general, I overall had the belief that people were innately good.

Then I started working in retail and was quickly proven wrong.

Yesterday: Sunday (the Lord's day right?) I had the special opportunity to encounter probably the 3 rudest sets of customers I have ever had the pleasure of dealing with over the entire duration of my present employment. (If anyone's interested, that's been 8 months)


Jerkface #1: I'll call her skitzo wierdo - believe me it fits. She walked in the door within 10 minutes of the store being open and as she quickly strode behind me towards the customer service center she did not say good morning. (And she really should have: it was bright & sunny outside, the birds were chirping, I was smiling - for pete's sake we had Bob Marley's "One Love" playing in the store..... it really was a zip-a-dee-doo-dah day!)

But no - not for her - rather she snapped her fingers twice (because I am easily mistaken for Lassie apparently) as she yipped over her shoulder, "Come order some books for me." No please, no patience - just abrupt huffiness. I glared, rolled my eyes, then shrugged it off and went over. Ok, I did wait about 6 seconds before I complied and probably walked a little slower than usual, but hey, I have my pride. I found her books - some strange beyond out-there New Age stuff -at which point she suddenly became all chummy with me, got really giddy and exclaimed, "Thank you, Jesus!"

um ... seriously? ....

Not 5 minutes later though, Miss Pissy Pants had regained her composure & had huffed right back up to me now demanding that I order those same books on cd. (Let me insert here that what made her extra strange was that she was glancing around rapidly the entire time as if ninja spies were going to suddenly leap out from behind the bookshelves at any moment and pounce on her). Only one of them was even available on cd and our store can't order it. I told her she could probably find it online, to which she griped that "It's going to be very difficult to do that since my identity was stolen and my AP address won't let me do that."... not sure about the AP thing, but I thought maybe getting a new identity wouldn't be all that bad. She then got just completely rude and pretty much blamed me for her life's woes and continued to rudely lament that it was very stupid that we couldn't order something when we knew it existed and gripe gripe gripe. I tried to explain it was because it was only produced in limited quantites and our company owns none, but that there were several other competing companies nearby who might be able to get it... She then asked me to call one of these stores for her and ask if they had it. Of course I told her that I was sorry but I couldn't do that but could at least get her numbers for those stores if she would like to call them. She then told me I was incredibly unhelpful and again said it was stupid that I wouldn't order it for her. Anyway, suffice it to say she was one lightbulb short. She stormed off still yapping at me. Have a good day Sister Christian.


Jerkface #2: Not a huge story here. Just overall a rude berating oaf of a man (from New Jersey - no offense to anyone, just that Yankees aren't known for their social graces). I was at registers and checking out his order and he basically just had some snide comment for any and every thing I said. Look buddy - I don't like asking all these questions either, but you don't have to be an ass. He was probably close to 50 and the girl he was skeezily groping was probably just past drinking age (if that) so I chalked it up to just downright dirtbag.


Jerkfaces #3: Overly rotund, just past middle-age couple asked me about a book. (Sidenote - I have nothing against bigger people, but when they are hateful and rude, they ask for beratement ... they also smelled like cheese) When I looked it up, the computer showed that we had none in the store but I offered to order it for her. I was very polite but this lady literally reached a volume just under yelling that the man she had spoken to on the phone said we had three and that she had come all the way down there... (my bad for not being psychic). I told her that particular book isn't marked to even be kept in the store as it was a pre-paid item only but that if she was told it was in-store that I didn't mind checking the shelf. Of course she and her husband followed me berating me all the way. Just basically calling me everything short of stupid.

Because as we all know once an intelligent human being steps behind a counter and dons a name tag they automatically lose 70 IQ points - really, common knowledge people. Anyway, their book was indeed in the store (giving them further ammo) and then they asked for something else ... weren't at all specific about what it was... to sum it up, I tried to help - they didn't clarify what they wanted and then the man raised his voice to me again & tried to get all up in my grill. I'd had enough. I put my finger in his face, barked Sir!, pointed to another section in the store and told him he could look for what he wanted himself. (I know, I know - I'm such a badass). I then strode off leaving them to gripe about how rude I was behind my back. I told another coworker if they needed anything else that I refused to help them.

Fortunately that was at the very end of my shift so I left shortly after that. I then went out to eat with a friend. I ate delicious fattening food and got chocolate ice cream for dessert.
On my way home I saw an elderly man walking along the road with his groceries. He dropped them. The pickup behind me pulled in to a driveway right past him and the younger man inside got out, walked over to the man and helped him pick up his things.

All in all, it was a good day.

T.M.I.

I am 25 years old. I have been a girl all my life (so I'm told) and have been a woman for 13 years now (if you know what I mean). Well maybe you don't as that could imply something rather unwholesome. No no no. I meant that I well... oh good god - I received my monthly visitor of fantasticness when I was 12. There.

Now I don't usually discuss any sort of bodily functions. Call me a prude if you like - whatever. I don't mind if other people want to (to a point), I just don't see that talking about such things is necessary on my own part. Anyway, in this case I make an exception because after 13 years of monthly inconveniences - that makes roughly 160 cycles (gross) - I only realized just a few moments ago that I get P.M.S. This is very disappointing to me. You'd think first of all that I would have discovered that fact earlier but I really never noticed it as I always thought I was an exception to the rule; being more on the level-headed end of the Female Emotional Spectrum - not completely immune to bouts of irrationality just on a much less severe scale than that of my fellow ladies. (ha - oxymoron).

Anyhoo... yeah. Again, not getting all detailed about it but suffice it to say that #160 just came to its conclusion earlier today and only in the last few hours have I realized that I have been much happier and optimistic. So I began analyzing my mood over the last week. It was a complete emotional rollercoaster. I'll give myself a little breathing room on it just 'cause there's a bunch of crap going on with my brother right now that effects me far more than I'd like to admit. However, most of it was just the hormones. Seriously. I was a little bitchy the first day and the rest of the time I was just plain sad and then sadder. How ridiculous.

This sadness turned into loneliness and self-pity. At one point yesterday it got so bad that I told my friend Angie that I didn't see the point in going on anymore if all I was going to be was alone. Where did that come from? I've always been alone. I mean yeah it bothers me but "Oh, I can't go on - boo hoo!" Seriously? Yes, I'm quite the pathetic and dramatic little thing sometimes. I'm normally pretty level in my moods and stay in a relatively good if not upbeat humor for the most part. However, I guess I do have gloomy moments from time to time and when I started thinking of when those times occur it's always around That time. Well crap. Now, not only am I a complete victim of Mother Nature but also apparently a very slow learner.

Womanhood is fun.

Sitting at the Shop ... June 29

I cried for a little while when I got home last night. i just felt sad all day. Probably some of it was just hormones - god it's great to be a girl! Most of it was just that my heart hurt. I cried over my brother; I cried because I felt alone; I cried because I felt pathetic for feeling alone. I cried because I felt pathetic for crying. blah blah blah

Anyway, I'm better at the moment. I am sitting at Modica Bros. in Nederland waiting for my car get all doctored up: oil & filter change, new windshield wipers, back-right tire patched/possibly replaced, tires rotated & balanced/possible alignment, and a tune-up. Yeah, I'm going to be here for awhile. I brought a book to read, but obviously I'm writing this instead. Um... so now what do I say? It's not that I don't have plenty spinning around in my head, I just don't know where to start. So much to choose from. Hmm.... Oh, the mechanic just came by and gave me an estimate for everything: approximately $350 and 3 hours. Buckle up kiddos.

Maybe I should just say a bunch of random meaningless crap and then my brain will focus on what it finds important for the day. Alright... I just realized that there's gum stuck to the bottom of my left shoe. The seat I'm sitting in is not so comfortable. My legs are short but still the seat's not long enough to properly support them. Arg! Let's see... I started a drawing 2 weeks ago for my Dad's Father's Day gift - it's not finished and Father's Day was a week ago. I'm a jerk. I got stuck on it, what can I say? It's a white stallion. I've never drawn a horse before, not one that wasn't cartoonish anyway & I wanted this one to look real. That's usually my drawing style - more lifelike. I told him about all this and he understood - no hard feelings. I think he appreciates the fact that I'm putting some real thought/time into it rather than just shoving a gift card or something at him. At least I hope so. Still, I feel like a jerk.

I saw my brother at Christmas then on Mother's Day at my grandma's. Since then not at all. I talked to him once between those times but nothing since. Well, unless you count my texting him every couple of days for 2 weeks and hearing nothing back. That was in the middle of May and only because my Mom told me he'd left his addict Bitch of a wife and moved an hour away but no one had heard from him since. He did finally text me back once to say, "love you. thanks for having the guts to tell me what I need to hear". That was it. Nothing else. Nothing since.

Yeah, whatever. Man, you've lived less than 10 mins away from me for the last 10 years and I maybe see or hear from you like 4 times a year. I'm feeling the love. Damn pill-head! I can't hate him though. He's got demons of his own. He deals with them the only way he knows how I suppose. For that - because I know - I can forgive him. I won't go into his torments though because he wouldn't want me to and dammit as much as I try not to I love him. Well, it's not that I try not to love him. Just that I have to shut him out 'cause it hurts too much to think about who he's become and who he could be and how he left me. ... moving on. What makes me hate him though is not because of me but because he has 3 little girls. Twins who are almost 7 and a 3 yr old. They don't deserve this crap. For all the bullshit their parents have put them through, I've never met sweeter kids. I'm not just being a biased aunt here, they really are just really good girls. God is mean - if he exists. I don't know anymore.

I write slow. It's hot in here. They have the door to the outside open for some insane reason 'cause the A.C. is blasting. Not gonna help fellas if you just let the southeast TX heatwave outside suck it all into the blistering atmosphere. People are retarded and strange. My hand hurts. I am listening to a mixed playlist: Everclear, The White Stripes, Nirvana, We Were Wolves, and A Fine Frenzy (just to throw in a little estrogen).

Oh, Michael Jackson died last Thursday, the 25th, and just a few hours after Farrah Fawcett lost her battle with cancer. Poor woman. Overshadowed even in death.... and now here apparently also. The King of Pop was 50 yrs old. They said this morning that he was only 110 pounds, had nothing but half-dissolved pills in his stomach and had little more hair on his head than some sparse black peach fuzz. He wore a wig. Go figure. He was an odd one. Still, he was a musical icon. Bat-shit crazy but I think his intentions were good.

The mechanic just came back again. He told me that my tires (all 4 of them) are over 5 yrs old. I asked him what that meant to me and he basically told me if I didn't replace them "immediately" I was risking dying in a freak auto accident soon ... then chuckled. As if that was funny. Great, now it's going to be an additional 2 hours and $300 - but it includes road hazard ma'am. Wonderful. It also includes next month's car payment you buttface. Damn! Life is expensive.

I just called my dad. He happened to be 5 mins away and has the day off. How convenient! Now at least I can hang out at my parents' house while my car is in surgery rather than in this lovely oven of a waiting room. I feel incredibly sarcastic now. I came in here all cheerful and optimistic and now these overly friendly men in these greasy coveralls are my sworn enemies (yet of course I cannot tell them this or they will further break my vehicle) Instead I smile as I leave. "Bye. Thanks. Call me on my cel if anything comes up." (jerkface douchebags -ripping me off 'cause you know I'm a girl who has no clue about cars - a plague on both your houses!

It begins...

Ok, so today I'm feeling, well - blah. I feel the need to write... something. The same thoughts are tormenting me tonight that I suppose have always done so. There are times when I've felt they'd be gone forever, that I'd conquered the demons and moved on. No, not demons. To use that term implies (at least in my own mind) that I am in part to blame for the things that have happened to me through out my life - that have made me this way: a little afraid, abandoned, hurt, lonely, unloved.... unloveable? Most of my life I did blame myself, which is alot of why I could never let it go and move on with my life.

Well, I still haven't completely I guess, but I have come a long long way from who and where I used to be.... much for the better. Ha, the idea just occurred to me that whoever may be reading this is getting all intrigued by that intro.... all mysterious and vague-like.... haha.

Just for a quick run-down which I'm sure will be discussed in more detail later:

Born with what's called club feet. Had several corrective surgeries as a child and they're fine now, but I have a lot of scars on my feet. I've been told they aren't as bad as I make them out to be. Still I'm very self-conscious about them. They make me feel unpretty and different.

My dad made my family move alot when I was a kid - for no apparent reasons other then he got restless. We moved 11 times before I was 10yrs old. As a result, I've never felt like I belonged anywhere - ever. It's hard always being the new kid. When people ask me where I'm from, I'm not sure what to tell them. I now live in the town my dad grew up in - 20 minutes away from the town my mom grew up in. I usually just choose one of these two places when asked what my hometown is, but it doesn't feel right.

Somewhere in the mix is a little run-of-the-mill child abuse. I may or may not go into that. To clear any crazy thoughts up: It was not family. It was not habitual (I only remember once). I was very young and it was life altering.

The main thing though is that my big brother started using a lot of drugs when he was 15 (I was 14). He has no relationship with me really and he's been in and out of rehab the last couple years. He just went in again two days ago - July 4th - how festive. The last time was 2 yrs ago on Christmas Eve-eve. He's got great timing doesn't he?
Only in the last year have I really started to realize how much his deciding not to be part of my life has effected me. I didn't really think it did before, but I know it does. It hurts. Not only because he's my only sibling and I feel abandoned by him, it's also messed up how I relate to people, mainly guys. I don't trust their intentions with me are genuine (let's face it, most of them aren't but still). I just feel like if my own brother wants nothing to do with me then why would anyone else? I only realized the falsity of that thought process a few years ago and have worked very hard to change it - so I got a much later start in the dating world than most my age.

That's only a synopsis of the dark stuff. The painful things. I have a lot of wonderful things in my life also and many things to be thankful for. I just wanted to give a background so that anyone reading may better understand where my sadness comes from.

I would also like to mention before I proceed that this is most likely never to become the eloquent and poetic musings that I envisioned when I decided to begin this whole blogging endeavor. We all imagine... Hell! Ok, just me. I imagined myself to be this deeply profound and melancholy soul not unlike Shakespeare or Poe (ha)... spilling out my woes and heartaches with such flowery gut-wrenching skill as to make one weep. (I give, that sounded dumb even to me) But you get my point.

Instead, I'm pretty sure my thoughts will be muddled and reek of attention-deficit disorder, jumping from one tidbit to another. Also, though my moods tend downward at times, on the whole I'm a very (ok not very) but relatively upbeat if not altogether happy little individual.

That, however will probably not be expressed in great quantities here as I seem only inspired to write crap down when I'm in a crappy mood. That may change, I dunno. So there it is. It begins. Stick with me please.

So....this is new

Ok, so I'm a blogger now. I resisted it for years thinking it was, well... lame? Now I'm older and wiser. Ha.

No, really it's just that I'm going through a lot right now and simply writing stuff down in a journal that no one else reads isn't cutting it anymore. I need to feel like someone out there is going to read what I have to say and maybe, possibly care just a little bit. At least this is how I imagine it happening - I'm going to pretend anyway. It helps.

I don't have anything particularly weighty on my mind though at the moment so I'll start with my last couple of journal entries and go from there.