+ Feverish Ramblings +

Sometimes I think that everything I do is futile because I just do this to myself. On some level I think I want to stay in this so very weird limbo. I wonder, at times, if I really want to find a man to be happy with. I know it's not like I've made any of this a priority, and why should I? I'm young and settling down isn't high on my priority list. I could use some new people to spend time with, and really I think that's all I ever wanted out of pof. However I think in the process of discovering this about myself I am hurting innocent men.

There have been a few that are feeling more for me than I ever allow myself to feel for them. I think part of it is not feeling like I really know them, my commitment phobia, and just not knowing what I want. And on some level it might be a lack of allowing real closure over the male that I let myself feel for for the first time in five years. I closed myself off in high school the first time my heart was really broken.

And somehow I never really relearned how to let a romantic-persuer in. I let the last man in because he took me by surprise - snuck in with friendship first. I thought those feelings were gone...it'd been months since I thought of him. Then while on a date my mp3 player played a song that always brings him to mind. And it took everything I had in me not to cry. I'd like to chalk it all up to hormones, but I think that'd be lying to myself.

This weekend I got sick again. Like in late winter thru spring. You remember that fun ride with me in elementary school subbing where I spent six months straight sick? Those were the last times I got to see him the most, and I knew he was a great guy even when he never saw it. Call it a feverish delusion...whatever you want, but I find it hard not to think of him now. I spent a lot of hours in his arms, while he never seemed to mind he could catch my colds...he just held me and let me feel better. Always warm and secure in his arms as music played and I wished he'd never have to leave. I'd never felt safer or happier, not that I'd have admitted that in a million years then.

Now I'm feeling the same and missing him, and I know I'm not being fair to these men or myself.  I know I jumped into this dating thing too soon as a way to prove I was still strong to myself, but I'm not. I'm a coward that's missing a boy she hasn't talked to in four months. I hope this is the sickness and the music talking.

I just wonder if I really want a relationship or not. I mostly just want my guy friends back that I can hang out with and talk to and feel safe around. I don't want to be tied down. 

+ The S'cow and Uni +

So, every once in a while, like today, I find myself missing the heck out of this place. Yeah, sometimes nostalgia takes hold and I miss what's in the past. And it's so weird being here and not having a place to call mine anymore. It's weird that I don't spend nine months here every year now.

Maybe it's that I got to hang with the old Boss-man that's bringin' some of this on, but seriously I wouldn't mind adding on to my degree, and getting to come back here. I'd probably take some time to have a life and fun this time, though. I just miss some aspects of my life that was spent here- mostly people. Let's face it, I met some pretty fantastic people in my time here. Some I still am close with- others total strangers. Yet they all helped me find myself all over again.

I know I've been graduated for a year, but that still blows my mind. It doesn't feel like it should be that long yet. If I could honestly do anything with my life- as in the sky really is the limit- I would definitely be okay with being a professional student. How awesome would it be to just get to be a scholar? Take ALL THE CLASSES! Learn ALL THE THINGS!!! And just meet new people all the time and possibly be a traveling scholar. Studying abroad and stuff!?

Why can't that job still exist? The Greeks were all about the scholars.

I think part of the appeal of coming back is I have no idea what is to come for me. There's no job set in stone for me next year, there's possibilities. Endless possibilities with no certainties. And I think that terrifies me most. I'd like to know what's going to happen. Like where I'll be come Fall.

+ Josaphine +

My mind has been in a weird and possibly negative place lately. I'm not sure why. I think it has something to do with acknowledging the goodbyes that are to come. One because a dear friend is moving away and the very real possibility of my moving.

I've been thinking of people who have entered my life a lot recently, and listening to a lot of music while driving. Ajax recently got the new Dispatch cd which has a song called Josaphine on it, which doesn't help my thinking of people from my past. 

Josaphine, my Jo, died when I was thirteen of leukemia. I found out about her death from her friend. Jo's just been on my mind a lot recently, partially because of the song and partially because of my mind thinking of my personal connections. I often wonder what she'd be doing if she were still here. If we'd still be speaking, or if -like so many other friendships- I'd let it go because I suck at keeping in touch. 

I shouldn't say that. I've managed to keep in touch with Bianca, Cerimon, Casanova, and Tank. They're kind of exceptions, though. We can easily go five months without talking. However, we always pick it right back up like we've never stopped, so I have that going with some people. 

It was years ago that she died. I remember because it was soon after the family forced us all into counselling. Apparently we were all having issues and it was time to talk to a professional listener. The problem was the guy sucked. He offered no insight or help into anything I said. Treating me like a child, yes I was thirteen, but blowing off all my personal experiences as "nothing" is not the way to go to earn trust. I was forced to bring in my sketchbook and poetry book and let the counselor read some of my work and drawings. There were drawings and writings dedicated to my Jo in them. She died before my Nana so that was the first death I really had to deal with. You know, that I was cognitively aware of. 

Basically everything was dismissed and I felt raw and exposed as a jerk essentially made fun of my work. My artwork and my writings were as much me as my flesh and bone - I was offended and after that swore to never go to the counselor again. I still refuse to see another counselor or psychiatrist for that very reason. I know they can't all be bad, but I'm still offended. I don't like the idea of people telling me my grief for losing Jo is somehow less. 

She was a sweet girl. She was strong and brave. She was witty and friendly. I wanted to be like her when I grew up. She was in her early twenties. I don't know. I guess I'm just really missing people lately. She's another person I wish I could chat up just one more time. 

+ My Name is Zelda and I'm a DVD addict... +

I find I rather enjoy reacquainting myself with old TV shows. I swear it seems like I find one I forgot about almost every year around this time. This Spring's old television friend is that of Smallville. Which I can't complain about mostly due to the fact it gives some kind of middle ground for Ajax and myself. I was always more fond of Smallville than Ajax from what I remember. I used to watch it every week, but then after four years running it changed time slots and I think was either right before or during Supernatural and for one reason or another I stopped bothering. I had tried getting back into it a couple of times but by then the story arc had changed so much I was left confused and got bored trying to catch up.

It also doesn't help that in general Superman is very low on my list of superheroes I adore. He falls somewhere barely above Aquaman and Hulk. Superman probably ties with Green Lantern and Ironman which doesn't help his case much. Yet somehow the before Superman version Clark Kent was different... or maybe it's the fact the casting was fantastic. I'm still very upset that Clark and Lex have to be enemies even if I already knew it was destined. I still hate it. Though, it's probably more to do with the facet that Michael Rosenbaum is such an amazing actor and let's face it - he's attractive and no one likes villains to be attractive. It becomes so much harder to dislike them - wow, that sounds so shallow. Oops.

I probably still would have been fine leaving the series in my past if it weren't for the fact that the series was on sale and I wasn't having a 'meh' day last Friday. Now I swear besides working for the Dad, catching up on class stuff, and planning class stuff all I've been doing is watching Smallville with Ajax and The mom. Which might have been different if it weren't for the fact that it's been a rainy disaster for my Spring Break. There was one semi-nice day. Otherwise dark and stormy - what else is there to do than curl up with a blanket, a book or TV show, and chill out?

+ Past Me - You Were Ridiculous +

I was checking my old files on my computer for some old writing of Cerimon's because he was mentioning he didn't save much. That meant that I needed to scour my entire document files. Which is too vast for my own good and the majority of it is labelled in a way I no longer comprehend. I came across a million and one pieces of my own writing works and oh. my. goodness...

The fifteen and sixteen year old me makes me want to hurl. We're talking like the kind of hurling that comes to mind when reading lines that Romeo speaks to Juliet. It's that cheesy, that bad, and that whiney about love. You know it's pretty terrible writing if I'm comparing it to Romeo's speeches - even my heartbroken poetry is on par with Romeo whining over Rosaline. It's a disgrace to all forms of poetry and writing.

Still I'm super glad I kept it because some of the poetry I remember thinking wasn't bad. It's good to see how I've grown as a writer and poet. Granted I'm certainly no Robert Frost, Walt Whitman, Emily Dickinson, or William Blake. That said, I'm not the worst poet ever to have lived. To be perfectly honest people may never even read any of my poetry which would be fine with me. I write for myself and no one else.

I think that works out well. I don't feel like I let people down when I write for my own sheer enjoyment. I enjoy getting the opportunities to learn about myself as a writer. I honestly have no idea what I was like or what all occupied my time when I was fifteen and sixteen so this is a good thing. It allows me to see a sliver of the past me, learn about her, and grow from my past. For example I know that the majority of fifteen and sixteen year old me's time was spent chatting up her friends - especially in online chatrooms (I found the most ridiculous chat involving Cerimon, Adrian, Casanova, Tank, and several other people. I almost cried from laughter). My closest friends appear to be the same as hers, some of the occupying thoughts remain the same, but still much more is different.

It's just interesting having this insight into my past. I also recently found the link to my xanga - that was also ridiculously hilarious and sad. The past me was interesting... to say the least. I thought I was so important and like my troubles were unique. They were pretty average for a fifteen/sixteen year old, "Blah blah, I love my boyfriend, blah blah my boyfriend broke up with me, blah blah my parents are the scourge of my existance, blah blah life is a meaningless black hole, blah blah I like a guy who doesn't even know it...".

Maybe I'll post some ridiculously bad poetry/writing at a later date...

+ I Have No Answers in Life +

I'd like to get away for a while.

I'd like to just run away and never look back. Maybe never come home and never see a familar face again. Just lose myself in time. Lose myself in the never-ending forests and never look back. I'd do anything to see those emerald trees again right now. I would do anything to talk to her again because she is the only one who could tell me what to do. And irony of ironies if she were here I wouldn't be allowed to talk to her anyway.

I would love to just go to sleep and awaken in another place in another time. Where I wouldn't have to think about this last week and a half. Where I'd never have to try to understand anything or anyone.

I'd like to just leave all the problems the world creates behind me and focus on absolutely nothing for once. The worst days of my life are never about myself. And I can give you the dates of what were the worst moments of my life off the top of my head because they repeat themselves over and over in my head. Each time it reminds me how entirely impossible it is to control anything.

November 6, 1990. - This is a guess, I imagine had I been able to think consciously it would have been difficult.
September 2, 2004.
November 9, 2004.
December 10, 2008.
January 7, 2010.
January 10, 2012.
January 13, 2012.

And I have a feeling those dates won't be the end of them either. There is only more to come. More to deal with. I will still be here years from now wondering what I could have done differently. Maybe, just maybe if anyone listened to me or talked to me things could have been different. Or maybe everything would have been the same. I don't know.

I don't know anything anymore. 

Don't get me wrong I've had more than seven bad days in my life. But these ones are by far the worst ones to have lived through thus far. The funny thing is I don't think anyone could tell me what happened on each of those dates and be correct. Even the ones who lived through those days with me.

+ Lost in the Hiding +

You know, not everything about my life was as crazy as it sometimes feels that it is and always has been. There are brief moments where I'm reminded of pure and simple perfection - and those moments when it felt like it would last forever. I don't think I ever would have thought I'd be where I am today, be doing what I am, have had some of the great, horrific, heart-breaking, or absolutely wonderful moments I've partaken in during my brief lifetime thus far. I don't think that if you had told me during those perfect moments that this is how everything was, is, and would one day be I would have believed it. Maybe I would have been thrilled, maybe not.

The younger me was much more positive of everything. She had such a strong faith and love that I haven't lost per se, but it doesn't ring with the same assurance that it all once did. I'm working towards it. But I think that she would be more or less satisfied, perhaps heart-broken over certain situations and people who've come and gone and how they couldn't have stayed by her side... but I think in the end she would have accepted it, moved on, and continued to be strong.

But this isn't about what she would have done, thought, or believed. This is actually going to be all about her. When we moved from our lives in California and had that shift of our futures it wasn't always easy. I mean not for young me, I couldn't have cared less. But for Ajax and the Mom? Yeah, it was difficult. It took time and visits from old friends to heal their wounds. I remember that one summer Robin, Ajax's best friend, came to visit. The young me had always loved him - he was everything that Ajax wasn't able to be. Don't get me wrong, I loved Ajax - unconditionally. Robin was different, though. He was the gentler and more loving brother that wasn't blood.

One day we got the bright idea to play together. As we had a pretty big house the natural choice for playing was hide and seek. There were no off-limits and the sky was the limit for us. I could hear the chanting, "1...2...3..." and off I ran. I wasn't sure where to go.

Upstairs? There is the room off the play room...No that's stuffed with that pink and yellow spongey stuff. That's no good. The hall closet? No... too easy. So, fine, not upstairs. Main level... Hmmm, that closet that connects the hall and the Mom's bedroom? No, too obvious. The Dad's closet... No, I might get lost and I don't think the Dad would be okay with that. Maybe the garage? No, too dangerous. Downstairs? Bathroom? No, it's full of spiders. Behind the bar...Not enough cover. Finally after enough searching for the perfect space to hide I happened upon the idea of exploring the basement.

The thing that was perfect about our basement was that it's an unfinished one. You know it has piles of dirt and black tarps and tons of stuff everywhere. Basically your perfect place to get lost. And getting lost is the point of hide and seek after all. The best part about the dirt piles are that there's a space just small enough for shoving up under with a support beam to hide your body from the sight of wandering in the basement. Unluckily for me Robin had already gotten the idea that I had. He was already perched on top of the dirt pile after I had settled I noticed him, "It's okay... We can both hide here. There's still the others that aren't here."

Robin was always the nice type. My strongest memory of him was when I was even younger. Ajax had gotten mad at the rents' and decided to take it out on me. We had this metal railing along our staircase in California and Ajax decided to bash my skull into the railing and take his rage out on me. I held my head and began to cry... That is until Robin appeared and craddled my head in his chest and held me as I cried cooing all along that everything was going to be fine and that I would feel better in a few minutes. It was always easy to love him.

Ajax had found his way into the basement. My friends trailing along behind him having already been found. Smugly I smiled to myself at having not been the first to be found. No sooner had that thought crossed my mind than Ajax said, "Found you..." My heart fluttered a bit sadly and I was about to move to reveal myself when Robin put a finger to his lips and slipped out from under the support beam. It was Robin that had been spotted, not me.

"Where is she?" Ajax looked to Robin. "I haven't seen her. She must be really good at hiding." And off they went to look for me.

This blog post is brought to you by Mama Kat's writing workshop: The Perfect Hiding Spot.