Yep

Hmm...it's been a long time, I know. I can try to make some fluffy word excuse and say things along the lines of, "Life has just been so crazy, my mind is filled with all the answers to the meaning of my life, but time had kept me from writing, and is keeping me with adventures." Or, "Words words words, filling my mind, never filling the screen, because although they make sense in my brain, they seem almost like a foreign language when set to paper or screen." Or how about, "I sit, with laptop on lap (appropriately so), and brace myself to let my inner soul escape onto this cyber world. Ready to take the criticisms, the laughter, the praise, and the occasional raised eyebrow. I sit, my fingers, don't move, my breath quickens, my palms sweat, and I am scared to share."

Nope.

I've been lazy.

I'm not even gonna say I'm going to try to get better at updating this with something actually interesting. I can say that I'll try to try (and shake my head in pity while I do so) and give it a good ol' college try.

The only problem with that is that I didn't finish college. I guess I'm giving the ol' college try then. Sheesh.

I don't like being this lazy person. All I can do is make some effort in my life. I can blame no one but myself for this one.

slip n' slide

Twenty-nine years ago today, I slid out of my mom's vagina.

Human life is amazing.

Dirdy Birdy

As promised, here are some photos from the Dirdy Birdy.

What is the Dirdy Birdy, you ask?

It's an annual 5k run in a sloppy, messy, completely magical mud-filled obstacle course! This year's race took place at the Portland International Raceway, on the dirtbike course. There were ropes to scurry under, mud pits to sludge through (many a pore soles were lost in those pits. Shoes. Get it? Get it? Oh God, that was awesome) mudslides, mounds and more. I know it all comes down to a track full of mud, but this track full of mud made for one of the most fun times I have ever had in my life. Yes. My life. That. Much. Fun.

And I Shake My Head...

Guy I work with: Tomato...tomato...how do you spell "tomato"? Is it with an "e"?

Me: No, it just ends in an "o" unless you want to make it plural.

GIWW: What?

Me: Plural. Tomatoes. If it's plural, it has an "e". Like potato and potatoes.

GIWW: So, no "e"?

Me: Not if it's singular.

GIWW: But...but, what did that one guy do? He spelled something like that...

Me: Are you talking about Dan Quayle? He spelled potato with an "e".

GIWW: Huhhuh.....man, that guy's an idiot!

Me: *head tilt, slow nod, slow speech* Yes. Yes he is.

Bleh-biddy Bleh Bleh Blah

Sometimes we need a good cry-fest. Sometimes all it takes to make us feel better is a long hug. Other times we just need to kick the shit out of something, or someone.

Let it out by writing.

Let it go by exercising.

Meditate.

Sing.

Sometimes we just

need

something.

Here's the problem. I don't know what it is, and I don't know what I want. My brain, my body, my soul, my essence is in a personal coma, and I can't figure out how to get out of this funk. A stinky, life-pausing, sucky funk.

I've been wanting to write, but I've had a problem putting all these jumbled, rambling, confusing thoughts into coherent and eloquent words that anyone (including myself) would want to read. I've been wanting to get out - ride my bike, go for a hike, SOMETHING, but it's been raining nearly every day and like a genuine wuss, the wicked witch of the west, I feel I need to avoid the water. I've been wanting to draw but I STILL HAVEN'T BOUGHT MORE PENCILS. I've been wanting to spend time with my husband, but he's been working 1,000 hours a week and is using the remaining ten minutes on his computer chatting it up with friends. I've never been so jealous of online people in MY ENTIRE LIFE. Maybe if I start playing World of Warcraft, I'll get to spend time with him...in a virtual world...while we sit on the couch...in the same room...only staring at each other's avatars. I've been wanting to work more at work, but I'm not allowed to work more than 40 hours, even though I have 50 hours of work to do. I've been wanting to hang out with my friends, but it seems that everyone's schedule is different than mine, our paths have not been crossing for some time now. I've been wanting to live, breathe, laugh, move, excite, feel, ANYTHING, but I can't seem to start ANYTHING.

Ok, got that out.

Really?

I do art. I do it for my job, and for fun.

I wanted to start a sketch for my sister, but a pencil in my house is nowhere to be found.

Really?

Not a single pencil in the entire house?

Well, I found one mechanical pencil...

but it was broken.

One broken pencil in my entire house.

I'm an artist, and I have no pencils.

Really?

Lame.

A Sad Reality

I have just spent hours reading over journals I wrote in between the years 1994 and 1997. I decided to look through them to find some funny entries that I could possibly submit to Mortified. What I found out as I read through book after book after book was, those were some very difficult years. It made me cry, actually.

Now, I know the words of a 13 though 16 year old are almost always going to be over dramatic, especially if you're writing about drama. The sad thing is, so much of the entries weren't about drama with school, boys, friends, etc. It was about family. My family, and the difficult times we had during those years. My entries weren't about specific incidents that happened, but they were about my feelings, and my utter confusion about life and if it was supposed to be this painful for everyone. As I am know, looking back at those years, before re-reading my journals, I didn't think the trials and tribulations my family went through were that painful to me. There are, in fact, so many ways that I am so grateful for everything that happened, and how it happened, because now as an adult, I can take so many lessons from all of what happened. I chose who I would love with a lot more caution and wisdom than I think I would have had I never experienced and witnessed those things in my past. I am grateful for that.

But to read these journals, and discover just how depressed I was about life. I didn't realize. It's sad. I know it's all in the past, but there is just something so strange about looking into your past, and having it dawn on you that you remember it differently fifteen years later, than how you remembered it two days, or maybe just hours later. I feel really sorry for my teenage self, not realizing how sad I was. I'm better now, don't get me wrong. But those journal entries really came as a shock to me. Life was hard for 13, 14, 15 and 16 year-old me, and I don't know if this makes sense, but I feel like I need to make up for it. I feel like being so unaware of this, is doing harm to my teenage self, and I need to make it up to my younger self.

Man. I think I'm going crazy. Maybe I just need to stop reading The Time Traveler's Wife for a little while.

Does any of this make sense? I'm just so shocked that these journal entries came as such a surprise to me. I mean, I wrote them after all! I should have know what was in there, but I didn't. Maybe I blocked a lot of it out. Maybe I need to see a shrink....

All I know is that I can't believe I survived that, and I hope I'm as stable and happy as I think I am now. I mean, I don't want to look at this blog fifteen years from now and think, "Oh my God, I was so sad! I didn't realize how depressed I was!"