I had the most incredibly odd and fascinating dream last night, and I just had to get it all written down before it escapes me. Later I think I will turn it into a short story.
First, I was walking across campus - a very common activity in my life! - going from some place to another place, and texting Nikki. She was at her jazz camp, which she is in real life, but in the dream the camp was being held on the UW campus. She was telling me where her rehearsal was being held, and I realized the building was one I happened to just be walking by, and I was about to tell her this via text, but then got distracted and just waved to her through the window instead.
Then the dream changed, and I was in a dark street in a city - I'm not sure which one, but it may have still been Seattle. I was working with a bunch of people on this decorating job, not unlike the party decorating the catering company I work for does. I did get the impression we were getting ready for some fancy party to come through and we needed to make the location look nice. Most of the people were people from my graduating class of high school, rather than the people I work with in catering. One guy that was a fellow musician stood out, otherwise the rest were just my classmates. I knew they were my classmates in the dream, but the dream didn't sort out names, other than Stephen, the singer.
Another, and I think the most fascinating, character was this one I completely dreamed up. He was an African-American guy, similar in appearance to a very forward stranger I met at a transit center (that's a whole other story!) and wearing a knit cap, a puffy coat, and carrying two or three suitcases. He was around my age, and had big dreams of marketing research, and throughout the time we were working the decorating job, this guy followed us around and chatted with us, often asking offbeat questions or telling stories. He had the most interesting way of talking, a way I never would have made up on purpose. He kept using the phrase "Is that a verb for you?" meaning essentially "do you feel that?" or "does that resonate with you?" For instance, he was telling us about the research he wanted to do in New Orleans about how all the disasters were affecting their nightlife, and when he talked about a certain street (it had a name or a nickname, but I don't remember it) getting flooded and shutting down the nightclubs, he asked if hearing about it in terms of percentages of clubs closed, record breaking events, or personal stories "were most a verb for us." He also just refered to New Orleans as "N.O." and assumed we understood. I think some of us thought of somewhere in Canada, although I'm not sure why. Maybe he was from Canada but wanted to travel to New Orleans.
Meanwhile, we continued with our decorating job. I came across something that looked like a cathedral, full of beautiful rows of seats and swings, with vines of morning glories entwined around the ropes that dangled the swings. Many of the seats and swings were covered with white sheets, and we knew somehow that whoever was wrapping the flowers around them wasn't done yet, and that they would be back, some day in the future, to finish their work. We wanted to take some of the morning glories for our decorations, but couldn't bear to steal them, so we carried on the decorations without them. Somehow I knew that the hall was to be dedicated to some great professor or teacher. I thought back to high school about my favorite English teacher, Mr. V., and thought that there should be a grand lecture hall built in his honor.
Then the dream changed again, and I was in the kitchen back at catering, but it didn't look quite the same as it is in real life, and the people weren't the same. Neither was the food. Usually we wrap to-go sandwiches in clear compostable plastic, but we were wrapping burgers and hoagies in foil, and most of the people were, for some unexplainable reason, from the cast of Glee. Not the actors. The characters. I was at the same time part of this episode in the early season in which the characters all worked in the kitchen, and reminiscing with Nikki about when that episode had aired. I particularly remember Brittney and Mr. Schuster being there. A friend of mine from my youth group was also there, and she only smiled at me, which seemed strange, but I didn't pay too much mind to it. I was too enthralled in my job, and getting finished, and enjoying what I was doing, chatting with the characters.
Again the dream changed completely, and I was in an apartment in Seattle somewhere, in the last week of Spring quarter, realizing how much time had flown - my last final was the next day, which was also the day my lease was up and I was supposed to move out. I had all of a day to pack! My apartment was on the first floor, and I went up to the balcony of the second floor (don't know why) and found Thuy and Joel there. This part is very interesting. Almost every dream about her that I've had since she disappeared has been essentially the same, save the setting. Every time, she reaches out to me somehow, tells me there's been some terrible misunderstanding - it's never clear what the misunderstanding was - and that everything's going to go back to normal now. And I buy it, every time. And every time, I wake up and think, "Bullsh*t!" No "misunderstanding" could possibly make it okay, and that recurring dream is getting just plain annoying. So unrealistic.
But back to this dream. This time, I was only talking to Joel, who looked a little different in the dream than he really does. I don't really remember what we were talking about. I more remember just watching Thuy to see how uncomfortable she was that I was standing there, casually talking to her husband, and acting like nothing was wrong at all. Eventually we went inside, and Joel and I continued to talk about whatever, and I continued to watch her squirm, feeling rather amused. She eventually and gradually started talking to me, too, both of us now completely ignoring the whole history between us. I wanted to work up the nerve to casually ask her, "So... what happened?" so I could finally hear her side of the story, but I figured that would blow it and she would just throw me out, so I never asked. I did learn that their lease expired the same day as mine, and we both had to move out the next day, but that's the only part of the conversation that really stood out.
Later on we went back outside, and there was a courtyard full of tomato plants outside the apartment building. I was looking at the courtyard, trying to think of how to explain its layout to my mom. I may have tried to text it to her or something. And, for some reason, we had to reorganize these tomato plants before we could move. I started trying to move some of them around, which proved to be really difficult, and there were spiderwebs between the plants. I ran into one of them, and had the wonderful luck of hitting one with a spider still in it. Moreover, a spider that had just caught a fly. The spider and the fly had landed on my shoulder, and the fly buzzing in my ear was what made me realize they were there, and I flicked them off and screeched before carrying on moving the tomato plants.
Strangely, I believe that was the end of it.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
A House on the Rock
So I have made this decision to walk with God, and to remember that I’m never alone, not really. I talked at community group about feeling alone, feeling addicted to my phone, because it’s my connection to the outside world. To things outside myself that fill me up, distract me from my pain, and make me feel whole...
...unless they don’t. And sometimes they won’t. That’s where I run into trouble. I ask, “What am I supposed to do? God’s not going to send me a text message!”
To this, Leslie tapped the Bible. I smiled shyly, point taken. Longest, text message, ever. And the best. I never have to open up the Bible, fearing what it might say, paranoid of the news.
God’s never going to get mad or lose His patience with me. God’s never going to cancel on me because He forgot we had plans and accidentally made other ones, or because He’s sick. God will never leave me unexpectedly and never explain why. God will never be late. He will never slip and say something stupid that hurts my feelings.
I AM SAFE.
And I am here. I am not in the past. I am not in another place. I am not in the future. I am right here, right now, and God is right here, right now with me. I don’t have to obsesively check my phone every thirty seconds, waiting for an answer. The Holy Spirit is already here, waiting to wash over my heart of cold stone like a rush of hot water. I can visualize it now. My heart, cold and grey, embittered by the pain of a thousand disappointments, paranoias, and injustices, begins to soften as the Holy Spirit begins its work, easing me into renewal.
Because renewal is exactly what I need. I’ve become bitter, jealous, and selfish. I don’t like what has happened to my heart at all. It’s a sick, twisted thing, these days, and it needs a serious makeover.
Lucky for me, one seemingly random trip to church started the whole process. I didn’t think for a minute going into it that such a thing would happen. I figured I would go once, sit through an awkward hour of feeling judged and out of place, and then I would walk home and politely decline the invitation to come back.
But that’s not what happened at all. Mere minutes into the sermon, I was biting my lip as tears poured down my face. The words couldn’t be more relevant. Pastor Mark talked of the parable in Luke of two houses near the sea – one built on a solid foundation of rock, the other of sand. When the storm swells came, the house built on stone was unshaken, but the house built on sand was swept into the sea.
I feel for all the world like my life, my peace of mind, is just like the house built on sand. My reliance on imperfect things – fellow imperfect humans, incomplete cellphone covereage, my own ability to succeed in school – is the foundation on which my life is currently built. And guess what? Every day, it seems, some part of that foundation lets me down. Heaven forbid someone take more than two minutes to respond to a text message. Heaven forbid someone is sick and there’s nothing in the world I can do to change it. Heaven forbid I can’t understand the assignment without help. But these things happen on a daily basis, and if there’s anything I can trust for the rest of my life, it’s that things will continue to happen. This foundation will continue to fail me.
I began to think, maybe this is something I haven’t tried yet. Maybe this is an option I should be seriously looking at. My friends and family have been urging me for months to get counseling, and I’ve been nothing but resistant to the idea. I haven’t wanted to have a designated breakdown hour, every Tuesday from 10:00 to 10:50... I wanted a REAL solution, something that was more meaningful than a scheduled vent session, something powerful that would actually enable me to live my life with strength and peace of mind. For some reason, I was doubtful that counseling would give me that.
But could God?
After being apart from church for so long, the thought hadn’t even really crossed my mind. But suddenly, it seemed so obvious. It was a complete DUH factor. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? Heck, even rapper T.I. thought of it before I did:
“Wonder how I face years and I’m still chillin, easy, let go and let God deal with it.”
Of course, this is a lot easier said than done, but he had the right idea. I can’t do this alone. I’m failing miserably at trying to pick up the pieces of my house out the sea every day and scramble to rebuild my house, just in time for the storm to come crashing down on it again.
I have a lot of work to do. It’s not going to be an easy job to tread upstream and start moving all the building materials over to the new foundation on the rock. It’s true, I do still have some issues with organized religion to overcome, and I still have some deeply held opinions that are inconsistent with Christianity.
But, it seems to me that a life safe on the rock is worth the price of giving up my liberty to drop a bunch of F-bombs. There is a lot to change – I have some serious work to do on cleaning up my act. I realize it’s probably going to be a life long process, because obviously I’m never going to be perfect. But I think it’s going to be worth it. I’m tired of pain. I’m tired of exhaustion. I’m tired of fear. If changing my ways to make my life straight and narrow will help me walk with Jesus – and become more aware of all my blessings – then why shouldn’t I?
So I stand at a crossroads of great change. I’m still a little scared, a little hesistant to commit, a little steadfast in the beliefs of all my prior life – but it’s finally dawned on me that whatever I’m doing, it isn’t working, and I’m ready to try to change. It’s going to be a long road, but by the grace of God, maybe it will fill me up in ways my life as it is never will.
...unless they don’t. And sometimes they won’t. That’s where I run into trouble. I ask, “What am I supposed to do? God’s not going to send me a text message!”
To this, Leslie tapped the Bible. I smiled shyly, point taken. Longest, text message, ever. And the best. I never have to open up the Bible, fearing what it might say, paranoid of the news.
God’s never going to get mad or lose His patience with me. God’s never going to cancel on me because He forgot we had plans and accidentally made other ones, or because He’s sick. God will never leave me unexpectedly and never explain why. God will never be late. He will never slip and say something stupid that hurts my feelings.
I AM SAFE.
And I am here. I am not in the past. I am not in another place. I am not in the future. I am right here, right now, and God is right here, right now with me. I don’t have to obsesively check my phone every thirty seconds, waiting for an answer. The Holy Spirit is already here, waiting to wash over my heart of cold stone like a rush of hot water. I can visualize it now. My heart, cold and grey, embittered by the pain of a thousand disappointments, paranoias, and injustices, begins to soften as the Holy Spirit begins its work, easing me into renewal.
Because renewal is exactly what I need. I’ve become bitter, jealous, and selfish. I don’t like what has happened to my heart at all. It’s a sick, twisted thing, these days, and it needs a serious makeover.
Lucky for me, one seemingly random trip to church started the whole process. I didn’t think for a minute going into it that such a thing would happen. I figured I would go once, sit through an awkward hour of feeling judged and out of place, and then I would walk home and politely decline the invitation to come back.
But that’s not what happened at all. Mere minutes into the sermon, I was biting my lip as tears poured down my face. The words couldn’t be more relevant. Pastor Mark talked of the parable in Luke of two houses near the sea – one built on a solid foundation of rock, the other of sand. When the storm swells came, the house built on stone was unshaken, but the house built on sand was swept into the sea.
I feel for all the world like my life, my peace of mind, is just like the house built on sand. My reliance on imperfect things – fellow imperfect humans, incomplete cellphone covereage, my own ability to succeed in school – is the foundation on which my life is currently built. And guess what? Every day, it seems, some part of that foundation lets me down. Heaven forbid someone take more than two minutes to respond to a text message. Heaven forbid someone is sick and there’s nothing in the world I can do to change it. Heaven forbid I can’t understand the assignment without help. But these things happen on a daily basis, and if there’s anything I can trust for the rest of my life, it’s that things will continue to happen. This foundation will continue to fail me.
I began to think, maybe this is something I haven’t tried yet. Maybe this is an option I should be seriously looking at. My friends and family have been urging me for months to get counseling, and I’ve been nothing but resistant to the idea. I haven’t wanted to have a designated breakdown hour, every Tuesday from 10:00 to 10:50... I wanted a REAL solution, something that was more meaningful than a scheduled vent session, something powerful that would actually enable me to live my life with strength and peace of mind. For some reason, I was doubtful that counseling would give me that.
But could God?
After being apart from church for so long, the thought hadn’t even really crossed my mind. But suddenly, it seemed so obvious. It was a complete DUH factor. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? Heck, even rapper T.I. thought of it before I did:
“Wonder how I face years and I’m still chillin, easy, let go and let God deal with it.”
Of course, this is a lot easier said than done, but he had the right idea. I can’t do this alone. I’m failing miserably at trying to pick up the pieces of my house out the sea every day and scramble to rebuild my house, just in time for the storm to come crashing down on it again.
I have a lot of work to do. It’s not going to be an easy job to tread upstream and start moving all the building materials over to the new foundation on the rock. It’s true, I do still have some issues with organized religion to overcome, and I still have some deeply held opinions that are inconsistent with Christianity.
But, it seems to me that a life safe on the rock is worth the price of giving up my liberty to drop a bunch of F-bombs. There is a lot to change – I have some serious work to do on cleaning up my act. I realize it’s probably going to be a life long process, because obviously I’m never going to be perfect. But I think it’s going to be worth it. I’m tired of pain. I’m tired of exhaustion. I’m tired of fear. If changing my ways to make my life straight and narrow will help me walk with Jesus – and become more aware of all my blessings – then why shouldn’t I?
So I stand at a crossroads of great change. I’m still a little scared, a little hesistant to commit, a little steadfast in the beliefs of all my prior life – but it’s finally dawned on me that whatever I’m doing, it isn’t working, and I’m ready to try to change. It’s going to be a long road, but by the grace of God, maybe it will fill me up in ways my life as it is never will.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
I am WONDERFUL.
~Whatever happens, happens, and everything happens for a reason~
I was a good friend to her this weekend. I did something kind for her knowing full well she probably wouldn’t have the nerve to do for me, and I was OK with that. It didn’t matter that she wouldn’t do it, because she’s my best friend, and I know she has and she will again to other things that are just as important.
I am strong, because I was absolutely terrified, but I did it anyway. I didn’t run away or cover my ears. I lay there, closing my eyes not to block it out, but to focus my energy on fortifying my inner strength. I thought of every calming and encouraging song I could think lf, and repeated them to myself over and over, reminding myself that it WOULD be okay, that whether it happened or not, both of us would be alright in the end. Still I was scared. My heart beat so hard and so fast, no matter how many deep breaths I took. The adrenaline made my stomach feel sick, and my throat was so dry that I could hardly swallow. The thought crossed my mind that maybe that was a good thing; maybe if I threw up – first, even – then I would have my precious Empathy, my Understanding. But I stopped myself before I could get too trapped in that pattern. Stop it, I told myself. That’s not going to fix anything. Just be here, where you are, and relax. Be still, my heart. Shhh… Try as I might, my heart would not stop pounding. I decided to take a Taoist approach, and accept the situation – and the fear that came with it – for what it was. Yep. This was really happening. And, yep. I didn’t like it. I was terrified, or at least something like it. I was definitely filled to the brim with anxiety, but it was a completely different anxiety from the phobic panic on my past. Then, the fear was indiscriminate and purely based on the action itself; it didn’t matter who it was. Now the fear has nothing to do with the action itself, and everything to do with the person affected. I could stand in a room full of strangers and not feel a thing. Not a thing that would hurt me, anyway. I’m sure I would feel disgust – I’m not made of stone – but I wouldn’t feel fear. In years past, I would have been overwhelmed by fear. I would have run for my life, dropping everything and fleeing in panic. I wouldn’t do that today. I would wrinkle my nose, make an offhand comment about something in the water, and calmly walk away. I could probably eat my lunch within fifteen minutes.
But not if it were one person I really care about. I’m both extremely protective, and extremely empathetic. I hate seeing people I care about in pain or misery, especially when that misery is related to the thing that was once my greatest phobia, even though the thing itself doesn’t scare me anymore. In fact, hate doesn’t even begin to cover it. I can hardly even deal with it. The only reason I can handle it at all is because I have no choice. You can run away from a scene, but you can’t outrun the truth. The scene used to scare me. Now it’s the knowledge itself, whether I see it or not, and so there’s nowhere for me to run. Nowhere but inside myself, to my inner reserves or bravery. Superchic[k] once said, “The only way out is through everything she’s running from.” I know these to be among the truest lyrics ever written. Running won’t get me anywhere, especially since the thing I fear the most isn’t the external circumstance, but the internal helplessness. A lack of control; I think that’s what it all comes back to. I hate dealing with things I can’t control, especially when it means people I love are miserable and there’s nothing I can do about it. Fundamental part of life, lack of control. I know that. There are very few things in life you can control, I know. Doesn’t mean I like it. But one thing you can control is your reaction. So I have to choose, and I did. My mind and body reflexively respond in fear; my thoughts start spinning; my heart starts pounding; my stomach starts twisting. That much I can’t control. So I could only control what I did. So I told her I was there for her, and said nothing about my pounding heart, hoping she wouldn’t see my hands shaking. And when she asked me if I wanted to go with her, I didn’t hesitate for a second before saying simply, “Yeah.” So we went. And laughed about how absurd and improbable the whole situation was. I happened to catch her watch out the corner of my eye at 11:17 – well, actually 11:14; she said her watch was three minutes fast. We grinned, wondering if it would happen at 11:48. I laughed, and ran to get my watch, which I knew to be accurate.
“You ready to finally see me in action?” she asked, a little sarcastically.
“Yep.” I don’t remember exactly what I said, but a million thoughts of phone calls and days after rushed through my head as I realised, with something between nervousness and amusement, that I was about to actually witness it after all our years of friendship. Given our personal rates of occurrence and how often we see each other, I suppose it was statistically bound to happen sooner or later.
She’s frustrated. Waiting sucks. I know. I’ve been there; I’ve been that frustrated. The weirdest thing is that every word that comes out of her mouth voices a thought I know I’ve had before… so by definition, I know that I know exactly how she feels. So in an absolute sense – if not a temporal one – I do have my understanding. That’s comforting. She feels something I know I’ve felt before if not now, so I think I can live with that. It’s something, and it’s all I’m getting; it’ll have to do.
Several minutes later, she decides it was a false alarm, and we go back to my room. My heartbeat slows down a little, but my mind is swirling and my body feels hot. Being brace is hard work.
Thirty-six hours and thirty-two minutes later, my mind is still in trauma mod, playing the scene and the words over and over, refusing to let me rest despite the fact that it’s over. That’s OCD for you. These last thirty-six hours and thirty-four minutes have been impossibly hard. I only made it because there was no way not to make it here. It hurts like hell, and I feel so conflicted. I’m glad it happened; it needed to; I need the opportunities to grow. I’m flinching in the residual fear/panic/protectiveness/what that awful feeling is. I’m proud of myself for being strong in the face of fear. I’m ashamed and aggravated that I have this bizarre complex in the first place. I’m afraid that she and anyone else that saw my blank stare will try to protect me and hide the truth in the future. I hate being protected. It only makes me feel weaker to know people don’t want to inconvenience me by showing me my weakness. The only way out is through, and to be strong enough someday that it doesn’t hurt… I’m going to need practice. It hurts to think people don’t believe in me enough to let me even try. Yeah, I was miserable yesterday, and thirty-six hours and forty-three minutes later, I still just want to break down and cry. But I’m one trial stronger than I was thirty-six hours and forty-eight minutes ago. My emotional muscles are so sore they can barely crawl, but as time goes on, the pain will fade, and the strength will be made manifest.
I am wonderful. I am a good friend.
I am brave.
~ And though I can't understand why this happened
I know that I will when I look back someday
And see how you've brought beauty from ashes
And made me as gold purified through these flames~
I was a good friend to her this weekend. I did something kind for her knowing full well she probably wouldn’t have the nerve to do for me, and I was OK with that. It didn’t matter that she wouldn’t do it, because she’s my best friend, and I know she has and she will again to other things that are just as important.
I am strong, because I was absolutely terrified, but I did it anyway. I didn’t run away or cover my ears. I lay there, closing my eyes not to block it out, but to focus my energy on fortifying my inner strength. I thought of every calming and encouraging song I could think lf, and repeated them to myself over and over, reminding myself that it WOULD be okay, that whether it happened or not, both of us would be alright in the end. Still I was scared. My heart beat so hard and so fast, no matter how many deep breaths I took. The adrenaline made my stomach feel sick, and my throat was so dry that I could hardly swallow. The thought crossed my mind that maybe that was a good thing; maybe if I threw up – first, even – then I would have my precious Empathy, my Understanding. But I stopped myself before I could get too trapped in that pattern. Stop it, I told myself. That’s not going to fix anything. Just be here, where you are, and relax. Be still, my heart. Shhh… Try as I might, my heart would not stop pounding. I decided to take a Taoist approach, and accept the situation – and the fear that came with it – for what it was. Yep. This was really happening. And, yep. I didn’t like it. I was terrified, or at least something like it. I was definitely filled to the brim with anxiety, but it was a completely different anxiety from the phobic panic on my past. Then, the fear was indiscriminate and purely based on the action itself; it didn’t matter who it was. Now the fear has nothing to do with the action itself, and everything to do with the person affected. I could stand in a room full of strangers and not feel a thing. Not a thing that would hurt me, anyway. I’m sure I would feel disgust – I’m not made of stone – but I wouldn’t feel fear. In years past, I would have been overwhelmed by fear. I would have run for my life, dropping everything and fleeing in panic. I wouldn’t do that today. I would wrinkle my nose, make an offhand comment about something in the water, and calmly walk away. I could probably eat my lunch within fifteen minutes.
But not if it were one person I really care about. I’m both extremely protective, and extremely empathetic. I hate seeing people I care about in pain or misery, especially when that misery is related to the thing that was once my greatest phobia, even though the thing itself doesn’t scare me anymore. In fact, hate doesn’t even begin to cover it. I can hardly even deal with it. The only reason I can handle it at all is because I have no choice. You can run away from a scene, but you can’t outrun the truth. The scene used to scare me. Now it’s the knowledge itself, whether I see it or not, and so there’s nowhere for me to run. Nowhere but inside myself, to my inner reserves or bravery. Superchic[k] once said, “The only way out is through everything she’s running from.” I know these to be among the truest lyrics ever written. Running won’t get me anywhere, especially since the thing I fear the most isn’t the external circumstance, but the internal helplessness. A lack of control; I think that’s what it all comes back to. I hate dealing with things I can’t control, especially when it means people I love are miserable and there’s nothing I can do about it. Fundamental part of life, lack of control. I know that. There are very few things in life you can control, I know. Doesn’t mean I like it. But one thing you can control is your reaction. So I have to choose, and I did. My mind and body reflexively respond in fear; my thoughts start spinning; my heart starts pounding; my stomach starts twisting. That much I can’t control. So I could only control what I did. So I told her I was there for her, and said nothing about my pounding heart, hoping she wouldn’t see my hands shaking. And when she asked me if I wanted to go with her, I didn’t hesitate for a second before saying simply, “Yeah.” So we went. And laughed about how absurd and improbable the whole situation was. I happened to catch her watch out the corner of my eye at 11:17 – well, actually 11:14; she said her watch was three minutes fast. We grinned, wondering if it would happen at 11:48. I laughed, and ran to get my watch, which I knew to be accurate.
“You ready to finally see me in action?” she asked, a little sarcastically.
“Yep.” I don’t remember exactly what I said, but a million thoughts of phone calls and days after rushed through my head as I realised, with something between nervousness and amusement, that I was about to actually witness it after all our years of friendship. Given our personal rates of occurrence and how often we see each other, I suppose it was statistically bound to happen sooner or later.
She’s frustrated. Waiting sucks. I know. I’ve been there; I’ve been that frustrated. The weirdest thing is that every word that comes out of her mouth voices a thought I know I’ve had before… so by definition, I know that I know exactly how she feels. So in an absolute sense – if not a temporal one – I do have my understanding. That’s comforting. She feels something I know I’ve felt before if not now, so I think I can live with that. It’s something, and it’s all I’m getting; it’ll have to do.
Several minutes later, she decides it was a false alarm, and we go back to my room. My heartbeat slows down a little, but my mind is swirling and my body feels hot. Being brace is hard work.
Thirty-six hours and thirty-two minutes later, my mind is still in trauma mod, playing the scene and the words over and over, refusing to let me rest despite the fact that it’s over. That’s OCD for you. These last thirty-six hours and thirty-four minutes have been impossibly hard. I only made it because there was no way not to make it here. It hurts like hell, and I feel so conflicted. I’m glad it happened; it needed to; I need the opportunities to grow. I’m flinching in the residual fear/panic/protectiveness/what that awful feeling is. I’m proud of myself for being strong in the face of fear. I’m ashamed and aggravated that I have this bizarre complex in the first place. I’m afraid that she and anyone else that saw my blank stare will try to protect me and hide the truth in the future. I hate being protected. It only makes me feel weaker to know people don’t want to inconvenience me by showing me my weakness. The only way out is through, and to be strong enough someday that it doesn’t hurt… I’m going to need practice. It hurts to think people don’t believe in me enough to let me even try. Yeah, I was miserable yesterday, and thirty-six hours and forty-three minutes later, I still just want to break down and cry. But I’m one trial stronger than I was thirty-six hours and forty-eight minutes ago. My emotional muscles are so sore they can barely crawl, but as time goes on, the pain will fade, and the strength will be made manifest.
I am wonderful. I am a good friend.
I am brave.
~ And though I can't understand why this happened
I know that I will when I look back someday
And see how you've brought beauty from ashes
And made me as gold purified through these flames~
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
It's gonna hurt when it heals, too.
I admit it. It still hurts. All of it.
I'm healing slowly, and I am doing better than when this all started, but I have a long way to go before I can be satisfactorily back to normal. And ultimately, whatever that normal is, it won't be what was normal before. I am forever changed, for better or for worse.
Part of me is scared of how I'm dealing with it. Integrity has been such an integral part of my life for all of it - I'm a terrible, terrible liar. Even when it comes to little things. Even at the age of seven, I couldn't handle the fact that I spent my lunch money on candy behind my mom's back. Years later (I'm not sure how many, but enough that the point was mute) I told her, almost in tears, that I had kept it from her. That's how honest I am. I hide very little - most of the secrets I keep are secrets my friends have trusted me with, and only a scant few are my own. And most of them, at least one or two people know. There's probably only one or two that I have never told anyone.
So to tell a complete and total lie to myself is terrifying, and giving me all sorts of moral qualms. But, at the same time, I feel like I can justify it by saying it's just another story, just another role to play... I'm a writer, so that's completely normal. I'm very used to pretending to be other people, that's how I've gotten through some of the hardest parts of my life.
But lately, I have been hurting so deeply about some things that I want so desperately to be someone else with a different set of problems that I've completely risen to another level in the reality distortion. I mentally split my lost friend into two people. One that I knew in high school, and died on February 4th. Another that I was acquainted with when I lived in Bellingham, and for whatever reason, just lost touch with.
For how hard I tried in high school to make sure she didn't die, I wish in the end she had. Death is impersonal, not something you do to spite someone. What she did was extremely personal. The way Laura explained it, what she said was, "I'm not going to be talking to Lauren anymore." No denying that that is personal. It's not something I know how to handle.
Not that I know how to handle death either. I'm awful at that. But there's always that consolation that they are in a better place, and it's final. Very final. Sometimes I'm still tempted to go after her. Today I thought for a moment that something Melissa said meant she had talked to her recently, and it horrified me. I have to keep reminding myself that Thuy Huynh is DEAD and any evidence to the contrary would be utterly disastrous. I can't handle thinking that anyone else can talk to her, because she is gone, not just from my life, but from everyone's. Luckily that's not what she meant, but it got me thinking. Lying to myself will only go so far. Sooner or later, I have to face the ugly truth.
She doesn't want to be my friend anymore. She's very much alive, happily married, and raising a child. A child whose face I saw before anyone else saw his face. Never mind the four and a half years we were friends, all the hell we went through and still came out alive. Never mind everything I did for her all those years. Never mind how hard I tried to keep her from killing herself. Never mind the fact that I was in the room when her baby was born, watched her push through childbirth with an incredible strength I didn't know she had. All those memories are only bittersweet for me now. Because, for some reason, in spite of all logic, she doesn't want to be my friend anymore. She didn't even say goodbye. Didn't even hint at it. Just left me in the dark for months, and if I'd never texted Laura, "hey, have you heard from Thuy lately?" I STILL wouldn't know what the hell had happened.
That's the truth. She's not dead, even though that would be easier to handle. I have lots of practice being angry, but not a whole lot of practise being hurt or angry. Sure, I've been rejected before, but that's a hell of a lot different than getting discarded after four years of intense friendship... especially for no known reason. I hate feeling angry, but I can't help it. What she did hurt me like nothing else in my life ever has. I'm angry, I'm extremely hurt, and I'm terrified to get close to new people and to stay close to the ones I already love.
I am in constant fear of not being good enough, and to make matters worse, I'm so desperate for attention that I never want to be alone... but at the same time I feel guilty, knowing I shouldn't be so self-centered.
I got called on that, too.
"I wonder what percentage of sentences that come out of your mouth throughout the course of the day start with 'I' or 'my'."
YIKES. That hurt. Mostly because she was right. Yeah, I am pretty full of myself. I want to tell people everything about myself, and I want them to listen and be interested. Mostly I just want to be loved and good enough, and I think talking is how I'm going to get it. Probably not. But that's how I've been for years... I talk a lot. And if I don't, I feel like I'm acting fake, because I'm not really a quiet person. But lately I feel like I should be, because maybe people would like me better if I wasn't so self-obsessed. So I shut up, even when I feel like saying something, because I think, "They don't care. Stop talking about yourself. No one is interested. Stop being 'stuck in high school'."
Because that's one of the few hints Laura passed on. Thuy apparently thought I was too negative, too stuck in high school. Geeeeeeeeze. You'd think a good shake on the shoulders and a "for fuck's sake, quit whining and enjoy college" would have done it, but apparently the situation was so outta control it made it worth throwing my friendship away completely. I mean, sure, I hated Bellingham, and I had my down-in-the-dumps days, but good lord...
And as if that weren't enough, my best local friend had this to say a couple weeks ago:
"Sorry I've been 'stalking' you so much, it's just with Jake in Australia, you're the next best thing."
Let's review. We've known each other since 2001. Her sixth grade year, my seventh. We were in choir together, we went to the same school, shared countless sleepovers, dreams, obsessions, everything. Since graduating, we've stayed really close in spite of me being in Bellingham for two years and our lives going in completely opposite directions. (I'm a science major, hoping to have a career in that field and then settle down and have a couple kids; she's taking a break from school to start her music career and then travel the world.) Still, we have stayed closer to each other than to any of our other high school friends. Jake? They dated for a year and a half, which granted is really big deal, but they've probably known each other since like 2005 at the earliest. And he's a guy. Yeah, you get close to boyfriends, but there are some things guy friends just can't do, some roles only your girlfriends can fill. Oh, and did I mention they broke up OVER A YEAR AGO?? I know they're still friends, but to think that he is a better friend than me, especially when I've known her at least twice as long, that hurt. A lot. She's apologized a million times, and I believe her, but that's something you can't take back once you say it, and it still hurts.
I keep hearing that I need to be a grown up, accept that I have new responsibilities... I think I'm doing okay with the responsibility part (I pay the bills on time, clean up after myself, and I'm getting better at cooking) but in reality, I'm totally emotionally immature. I can think of tons of excuses - Thuy gave me way too much responsibility in high school, putting her life in my hands and making me grow up too fast; another friend is overseas with the military, in a life-and-death situation I still feel too young to handle; I was homeschooled until just before high school and didn't get socialized like everyone else; etc. etc. etc. - but in the end, it doesn't really matter WHY. The point is I have the emotional maturity of someone who's about 15, and I have no desire to grow up and be the 21 (almost 22...!) year old I actually am. I'm not ready. I feel like I was robbed of my sweet sixteen somehow and I want it back. I'm willing to do just about anything to have a chance to be young. I know the only thing I can do is make the most of my 20s before they, too, are gone and I have to REALLY be a grown-up.
But it's hard when I have the lingering fear that I'll never be good enough for my friends, that they might backstab me and run away at any minute, or that they secretly think of my as selfish or second-rate, as a couple of them let slip out loud. It makes me wonder, if that's what they have the nerve to say, what are they not saying? How do they really think of me? Should I even bother opening my mouth at all? Why are they my friend in the first place?
I know I'm probably just being paranoid... but that's just it, isn't it? I'm paranoid. And that is a serious drain on trying to enjoy my life.
Thuy hurt me extremely deeply, and my emotional skin is so raw and tender that any tiny remark by anyone else sends me reeling and over-analyzing, thinking I should run away before anyone else deserts me first. I know that won't fix any of my problems, but there are times when I think like that.
Meanwhile, here I am... self-centered and self-conscious, trying desperately to prove that I'm good enough without driving anyone away... and still grieving the loss of my friend. The one that's still out there, the one that I won't ever try to talk to again, no matter how I'm tempted. It won't work; I gave up trying months ago. I haven't called her since I left that one last furious voicemail the night Laura told me what happened. There's no point. Even if we did get back in touch, what would I say? "Gee, thanks for finally picking up the phone. Am I bloody optimistic enough for you now, and do you have anything you'd like to say to me after all those months of shutting me out?" I think not. What's done is done and trying to change it will just tear me apart, so now matter how many times I have the same repeated dream, the dream is a lie.
The dream is always the same, although it's always somewhere different. Sometimes there's a phone call, sometimes I run into her on campus, or she comes to my house, or I find her at hers, or maybe the setting is something I dreamed up completely. But the message is always the same. Every time, she tells me there's been some terrible misunderstanding (and it's never clear what this misunderstanding is) and it was all just a stupid mistake and everything is going to go back to the way it was. And then usually we hug and make up and there's this feeling of overwhelming relief that the grief is gone and everything is okay, and she never meant to hurt me.
THIS WILL NEVER HAPPEN. Even if she did come to me and explain this misunderstanding, whatever it could possibly be, there's no way things would ever go back to normal. No misunderstanding could justify the months of silence. I am hurt way too deeply to ever risk letting her in again. At least not like I did before. Who knows, maybe ten years from now she'll get in touch and apologize, and maybe we'll be soccer mom acquaintances after that, but probably not. And if that does happen, we will never be as close as we were. She cut me way too deep.
It's funny, I've gotten awfully used to hurting. Not that I like it, but there you have it. The first time Nikki and I went to see Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, I was a wreck at the end of it... the themes of betrayal and loss were so overwhelming that I was digging my nails into my arm, desperate for comfort, and I literally wanted to scream at the top of my lungs and smash things to pieces... not unlike Bellatrix smashing all the dishes in the Great Hall at the end of the film. It took me quite a while to calm down, but after listening to a bunch of music and realizing that as angry as I was, I missed her, I felt better, strangely. I was able to deal with it better thinking that it was okay to miss the girl I once knew. Because whether you think of her as dead or not, the person I was friends with in high school is obviously gone. There's nothing wrong with missing that person... just as it's okay for me to be angry at the person she's become. It doesn't have to be so black and white.
The next time we saw the movie, I was prepared for what I would see and feel. And when the death scene came, I was ready. I was braced for it, and almost unattached. I watched it almost numbly, thinking that as much as death and betrayal suck, they are part of life, and there was nothing I could do about it but handle it maturely. It made me think of the fact that Jason had just flown to Iraq. There's nothing I can do about that, either. Nothing but pray for his safety and wait. No amount of tears from me is going to break his contract with the Air Force.
While it's encouraging to see a hint of maturity in myself, part of me wishes I didn't have the need to develop it in the first place. I still feel a little bitter for how fast I've had to grow up, and for how much I have gone though that has made me hurt. It seems like I'm always telling myself to just keep going, and it'll be better someday. Someday. Someday Thuy won't be suicidal anymore, someday I won't care that Tara rejected me the way she did, someday I won't be stuck in Bellingham anymore, someday my cardiovascular system will work right, someday my family will stop bickering, someday I'll see my dad more often, someday Sierra will come back home, someday I will have enough money, someday I won't have acne anymore, someday it won't fucking hurt so much that Thuy discarded me, someday Jason will finish his contract and come home safe, someday I'll be good enough for everyone I love..........
I'm pretty sick of telling myself if I can just get through _______, then it'll be okay. When will it be okay? It seems like every time I come close to feeling better, something else brings me down. Is it just that I'm weak? Things hurt me more easily than they hurt other people? Or do I just have god-awful luck?? Sometimes I think I must have been really horrible person in a past life, because I don't know what the hell I did to deserve all this. Or maybe I'm doing just what Thuy accused me of. Getting hung up on all the downsides. Maybe my life isn't so bad, and my misery is entirely my fault because I don't focus on the good sides enough. Who knows. Probably a mix of both.
So for now I keep lying to myself. Pretending to be someone else to get through the bad days, and reminding myself that, at least figuratively speaking, Thuy is dead. Gone, at least, and nothing will bring her back to me.
I'm healing slowly, and I am doing better than when this all started, but I have a long way to go before I can be satisfactorily back to normal. And ultimately, whatever that normal is, it won't be what was normal before. I am forever changed, for better or for worse.
Part of me is scared of how I'm dealing with it. Integrity has been such an integral part of my life for all of it - I'm a terrible, terrible liar. Even when it comes to little things. Even at the age of seven, I couldn't handle the fact that I spent my lunch money on candy behind my mom's back. Years later (I'm not sure how many, but enough that the point was mute) I told her, almost in tears, that I had kept it from her. That's how honest I am. I hide very little - most of the secrets I keep are secrets my friends have trusted me with, and only a scant few are my own. And most of them, at least one or two people know. There's probably only one or two that I have never told anyone.
So to tell a complete and total lie to myself is terrifying, and giving me all sorts of moral qualms. But, at the same time, I feel like I can justify it by saying it's just another story, just another role to play... I'm a writer, so that's completely normal. I'm very used to pretending to be other people, that's how I've gotten through some of the hardest parts of my life.
But lately, I have been hurting so deeply about some things that I want so desperately to be someone else with a different set of problems that I've completely risen to another level in the reality distortion. I mentally split my lost friend into two people. One that I knew in high school, and died on February 4th. Another that I was acquainted with when I lived in Bellingham, and for whatever reason, just lost touch with.
For how hard I tried in high school to make sure she didn't die, I wish in the end she had. Death is impersonal, not something you do to spite someone. What she did was extremely personal. The way Laura explained it, what she said was, "I'm not going to be talking to Lauren anymore." No denying that that is personal. It's not something I know how to handle.
Not that I know how to handle death either. I'm awful at that. But there's always that consolation that they are in a better place, and it's final. Very final. Sometimes I'm still tempted to go after her. Today I thought for a moment that something Melissa said meant she had talked to her recently, and it horrified me. I have to keep reminding myself that Thuy Huynh is DEAD and any evidence to the contrary would be utterly disastrous. I can't handle thinking that anyone else can talk to her, because she is gone, not just from my life, but from everyone's. Luckily that's not what she meant, but it got me thinking. Lying to myself will only go so far. Sooner or later, I have to face the ugly truth.
She doesn't want to be my friend anymore. She's very much alive, happily married, and raising a child. A child whose face I saw before anyone else saw his face. Never mind the four and a half years we were friends, all the hell we went through and still came out alive. Never mind everything I did for her all those years. Never mind how hard I tried to keep her from killing herself. Never mind the fact that I was in the room when her baby was born, watched her push through childbirth with an incredible strength I didn't know she had. All those memories are only bittersweet for me now. Because, for some reason, in spite of all logic, she doesn't want to be my friend anymore. She didn't even say goodbye. Didn't even hint at it. Just left me in the dark for months, and if I'd never texted Laura, "hey, have you heard from Thuy lately?" I STILL wouldn't know what the hell had happened.
That's the truth. She's not dead, even though that would be easier to handle. I have lots of practice being angry, but not a whole lot of practise being hurt or angry. Sure, I've been rejected before, but that's a hell of a lot different than getting discarded after four years of intense friendship... especially for no known reason. I hate feeling angry, but I can't help it. What she did hurt me like nothing else in my life ever has. I'm angry, I'm extremely hurt, and I'm terrified to get close to new people and to stay close to the ones I already love.
I am in constant fear of not being good enough, and to make matters worse, I'm so desperate for attention that I never want to be alone... but at the same time I feel guilty, knowing I shouldn't be so self-centered.
I got called on that, too.
"I wonder what percentage of sentences that come out of your mouth throughout the course of the day start with 'I' or 'my'."
YIKES. That hurt. Mostly because she was right. Yeah, I am pretty full of myself. I want to tell people everything about myself, and I want them to listen and be interested. Mostly I just want to be loved and good enough, and I think talking is how I'm going to get it. Probably not. But that's how I've been for years... I talk a lot. And if I don't, I feel like I'm acting fake, because I'm not really a quiet person. But lately I feel like I should be, because maybe people would like me better if I wasn't so self-obsessed. So I shut up, even when I feel like saying something, because I think, "They don't care. Stop talking about yourself. No one is interested. Stop being 'stuck in high school'."
Because that's one of the few hints Laura passed on. Thuy apparently thought I was too negative, too stuck in high school. Geeeeeeeeze. You'd think a good shake on the shoulders and a "for fuck's sake, quit whining and enjoy college" would have done it, but apparently the situation was so outta control it made it worth throwing my friendship away completely. I mean, sure, I hated Bellingham, and I had my down-in-the-dumps days, but good lord...
And as if that weren't enough, my best local friend had this to say a couple weeks ago:
"Sorry I've been 'stalking' you so much, it's just with Jake in Australia, you're the next best thing."
Let's review. We've known each other since 2001. Her sixth grade year, my seventh. We were in choir together, we went to the same school, shared countless sleepovers, dreams, obsessions, everything. Since graduating, we've stayed really close in spite of me being in Bellingham for two years and our lives going in completely opposite directions. (I'm a science major, hoping to have a career in that field and then settle down and have a couple kids; she's taking a break from school to start her music career and then travel the world.) Still, we have stayed closer to each other than to any of our other high school friends. Jake? They dated for a year and a half, which granted is really big deal, but they've probably known each other since like 2005 at the earliest. And he's a guy. Yeah, you get close to boyfriends, but there are some things guy friends just can't do, some roles only your girlfriends can fill. Oh, and did I mention they broke up OVER A YEAR AGO?? I know they're still friends, but to think that he is a better friend than me, especially when I've known her at least twice as long, that hurt. A lot. She's apologized a million times, and I believe her, but that's something you can't take back once you say it, and it still hurts.
I keep hearing that I need to be a grown up, accept that I have new responsibilities... I think I'm doing okay with the responsibility part (I pay the bills on time, clean up after myself, and I'm getting better at cooking) but in reality, I'm totally emotionally immature. I can think of tons of excuses - Thuy gave me way too much responsibility in high school, putting her life in my hands and making me grow up too fast; another friend is overseas with the military, in a life-and-death situation I still feel too young to handle; I was homeschooled until just before high school and didn't get socialized like everyone else; etc. etc. etc. - but in the end, it doesn't really matter WHY. The point is I have the emotional maturity of someone who's about 15, and I have no desire to grow up and be the 21 (almost 22...!) year old I actually am. I'm not ready. I feel like I was robbed of my sweet sixteen somehow and I want it back. I'm willing to do just about anything to have a chance to be young. I know the only thing I can do is make the most of my 20s before they, too, are gone and I have to REALLY be a grown-up.
But it's hard when I have the lingering fear that I'll never be good enough for my friends, that they might backstab me and run away at any minute, or that they secretly think of my as selfish or second-rate, as a couple of them let slip out loud. It makes me wonder, if that's what they have the nerve to say, what are they not saying? How do they really think of me? Should I even bother opening my mouth at all? Why are they my friend in the first place?
I know I'm probably just being paranoid... but that's just it, isn't it? I'm paranoid. And that is a serious drain on trying to enjoy my life.
Thuy hurt me extremely deeply, and my emotional skin is so raw and tender that any tiny remark by anyone else sends me reeling and over-analyzing, thinking I should run away before anyone else deserts me first. I know that won't fix any of my problems, but there are times when I think like that.
Meanwhile, here I am... self-centered and self-conscious, trying desperately to prove that I'm good enough without driving anyone away... and still grieving the loss of my friend. The one that's still out there, the one that I won't ever try to talk to again, no matter how I'm tempted. It won't work; I gave up trying months ago. I haven't called her since I left that one last furious voicemail the night Laura told me what happened. There's no point. Even if we did get back in touch, what would I say? "Gee, thanks for finally picking up the phone. Am I bloody optimistic enough for you now, and do you have anything you'd like to say to me after all those months of shutting me out?" I think not. What's done is done and trying to change it will just tear me apart, so now matter how many times I have the same repeated dream, the dream is a lie.
The dream is always the same, although it's always somewhere different. Sometimes there's a phone call, sometimes I run into her on campus, or she comes to my house, or I find her at hers, or maybe the setting is something I dreamed up completely. But the message is always the same. Every time, she tells me there's been some terrible misunderstanding (and it's never clear what this misunderstanding is) and it was all just a stupid mistake and everything is going to go back to the way it was. And then usually we hug and make up and there's this feeling of overwhelming relief that the grief is gone and everything is okay, and she never meant to hurt me.
THIS WILL NEVER HAPPEN. Even if she did come to me and explain this misunderstanding, whatever it could possibly be, there's no way things would ever go back to normal. No misunderstanding could justify the months of silence. I am hurt way too deeply to ever risk letting her in again. At least not like I did before. Who knows, maybe ten years from now she'll get in touch and apologize, and maybe we'll be soccer mom acquaintances after that, but probably not. And if that does happen, we will never be as close as we were. She cut me way too deep.
It's funny, I've gotten awfully used to hurting. Not that I like it, but there you have it. The first time Nikki and I went to see Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, I was a wreck at the end of it... the themes of betrayal and loss were so overwhelming that I was digging my nails into my arm, desperate for comfort, and I literally wanted to scream at the top of my lungs and smash things to pieces... not unlike Bellatrix smashing all the dishes in the Great Hall at the end of the film. It took me quite a while to calm down, but after listening to a bunch of music and realizing that as angry as I was, I missed her, I felt better, strangely. I was able to deal with it better thinking that it was okay to miss the girl I once knew. Because whether you think of her as dead or not, the person I was friends with in high school is obviously gone. There's nothing wrong with missing that person... just as it's okay for me to be angry at the person she's become. It doesn't have to be so black and white.
The next time we saw the movie, I was prepared for what I would see and feel. And when the death scene came, I was ready. I was braced for it, and almost unattached. I watched it almost numbly, thinking that as much as death and betrayal suck, they are part of life, and there was nothing I could do about it but handle it maturely. It made me think of the fact that Jason had just flown to Iraq. There's nothing I can do about that, either. Nothing but pray for his safety and wait. No amount of tears from me is going to break his contract with the Air Force.
While it's encouraging to see a hint of maturity in myself, part of me wishes I didn't have the need to develop it in the first place. I still feel a little bitter for how fast I've had to grow up, and for how much I have gone though that has made me hurt. It seems like I'm always telling myself to just keep going, and it'll be better someday. Someday. Someday Thuy won't be suicidal anymore, someday I won't care that Tara rejected me the way she did, someday I won't be stuck in Bellingham anymore, someday my cardiovascular system will work right, someday my family will stop bickering, someday I'll see my dad more often, someday Sierra will come back home, someday I will have enough money, someday I won't have acne anymore, someday it won't fucking hurt so much that Thuy discarded me, someday Jason will finish his contract and come home safe, someday I'll be good enough for everyone I love..........
I'm pretty sick of telling myself if I can just get through _______, then it'll be okay. When will it be okay? It seems like every time I come close to feeling better, something else brings me down. Is it just that I'm weak? Things hurt me more easily than they hurt other people? Or do I just have god-awful luck?? Sometimes I think I must have been really horrible person in a past life, because I don't know what the hell I did to deserve all this. Or maybe I'm doing just what Thuy accused me of. Getting hung up on all the downsides. Maybe my life isn't so bad, and my misery is entirely my fault because I don't focus on the good sides enough. Who knows. Probably a mix of both.
So for now I keep lying to myself. Pretending to be someone else to get through the bad days, and reminding myself that, at least figuratively speaking, Thuy is dead. Gone, at least, and nothing will bring her back to me.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Jesse McCartney and the All American Rejects put it nicely!
Just replace all the romance with a purely platonic friend, and these songs pretty much say it all.
"How Do You Sleep" feat. Ludacris:
It's been about a year now
Ain't seen or heard from you
I been missin' you crazy
How do you how do you sleep
I found the letter you wrote me
It still smells just like you
Damn those sweet memories
How do you how do you sleep
How do you sleep
Tried my best at movin' on
Have yet to find a girl like you
See things now I didn't before
Now wishin' I had more time with you
How do you stay awake
Knowin' all I do is think of you
All the things we thought about
Then, never will happen again
If I could just see you
If I had my way come and get you girl
In your favourite car with the missing top
Around my way where we used to park
And did all those things to steal your heart
It's been about a year now
Ain't seen or heard from you
I been missin' you crazy
How do you how do you sleep
I found the letter you wrote me
It still smells just like you
Damn those sweet memories
How do you how do you sleep
It's been about a year now
Ain't seen or heard from you
I been missin' you crazy
How do you how do you sleep
I found the letter you wrote me
It still smells just like you
Damn those sweet memories
How do you how do you sleep
How do you sleep
Baby all that I hear from my friends
Again again and again come and ask 'bout you
They say we saw your girl at the game
And damn we gotta say a big mistake by you
Not only did your body bang
But I miss the conversation too
Tell me that you're gettin' more sleep
Can't think can't eat till I come see you
If I had my way come and get you girl
In your favourite car with the missing top
Around my way where we used to park
And did all those things to steal your heart
It's been about a year now
Ain't seen or heard from you
I been missin' you crazy
How do you how do you sleep
I found the letter you wrote me
It still smells just like you
Damn those sweet memories
How do you how do you sleep
How do you sleep
It's been about a year now
Ain't seen or heard from you
I been missin' you crazy
How do you how do you sleep
I found the letter you wrote me
It still smells just like you
Damn those sweet memories
How do you how do you sleep
It's been about a year now
Ain't seen or heard from you
I been missin' you crazy
How do you how do you sleep
I found the letter you wrote me
It still smells just like you
Damn those sweet memories
How do you how do you sleep
How do you sleep
"Gives You Hell"
I wake up every evening
With a big smile on my face
And it never feels out of place.
And you're still probably working
At a 9 to 5 pace
I wonder how bad that tastes
When you see my face
I hope it gives you hell, I hope it gives you hell
When you walk my way
I hope it gives you hell, I hope it gives you hell
Now where's your picket fence love
And where's that shiny car
Did it ever get you far?
You never seem so tense, love
Never seen you fall so hard
Do you know where you are?
Truth be told I miss you
Truth be told I'm lying
When you see my face
I hope it gives you hell, I hope it gives you hell
When you walk my way
I hope it gives you hell, I hope it gives you hell
If you find a man thats worth the damn and treats you well
Then he's a fool you're just as well hope it gives you hell
Hope it gives you hell
Tomorrow you'll be thinking to yourself
Where did it all go wrong?
But the list goes on and on
Truth be told I miss you
Truth be told I'm lying
When you see my face
I hope it gives you hell, I hope it gives you hell
When you walk my way
I hope it gives you hell, I hope it gives you hell
If you find a man that's worth the damn and treats you well
Then he's a fool you're just as well hope it gives you hell
Now you'll never see
What you've done to me
You can take back your memories
They're no good to me
And here's all your lies
If you look me in the eyes
With the sad, sad look
That you wear so well
When you see my face
I hope it gives you hell, I hope it gives you hell
When you walk my way
I hope it gives you hell, I hope it gives you hell
If you find a man that's worth the damn and treats you well
Then he's a fool you're just as well hope it gives you hell
When you see my face
I hope it gives you hell, I hope it gives you hell (hope it gives you hell)
When you walk my way
I hope it gives you hell, I hope it gives you hell (hope it gives you hell)
When you hear this song and you sing along well you'll never tell
And you're the fool I've just as well I hope it gives you hell
When you hear this song I hope that it will give you hell
You can sing along I hope that it puts you through hell
"How Do You Sleep" feat. Ludacris:
It's been about a year now
Ain't seen or heard from you
I been missin' you crazy
How do you how do you sleep
I found the letter you wrote me
It still smells just like you
Damn those sweet memories
How do you how do you sleep
How do you sleep
Tried my best at movin' on
Have yet to find a girl like you
See things now I didn't before
Now wishin' I had more time with you
How do you stay awake
Knowin' all I do is think of you
All the things we thought about
Then, never will happen again
If I could just see you
If I had my way come and get you girl
In your favourite car with the missing top
Around my way where we used to park
And did all those things to steal your heart
It's been about a year now
Ain't seen or heard from you
I been missin' you crazy
How do you how do you sleep
I found the letter you wrote me
It still smells just like you
Damn those sweet memories
How do you how do you sleep
It's been about a year now
Ain't seen or heard from you
I been missin' you crazy
How do you how do you sleep
I found the letter you wrote me
It still smells just like you
Damn those sweet memories
How do you how do you sleep
How do you sleep
Baby all that I hear from my friends
Again again and again come and ask 'bout you
They say we saw your girl at the game
And damn we gotta say a big mistake by you
Not only did your body bang
But I miss the conversation too
Tell me that you're gettin' more sleep
Can't think can't eat till I come see you
If I had my way come and get you girl
In your favourite car with the missing top
Around my way where we used to park
And did all those things to steal your heart
It's been about a year now
Ain't seen or heard from you
I been missin' you crazy
How do you how do you sleep
I found the letter you wrote me
It still smells just like you
Damn those sweet memories
How do you how do you sleep
How do you sleep
It's been about a year now
Ain't seen or heard from you
I been missin' you crazy
How do you how do you sleep
I found the letter you wrote me
It still smells just like you
Damn those sweet memories
How do you how do you sleep
It's been about a year now
Ain't seen or heard from you
I been missin' you crazy
How do you how do you sleep
I found the letter you wrote me
It still smells just like you
Damn those sweet memories
How do you how do you sleep
How do you sleep
"Gives You Hell"
I wake up every evening
With a big smile on my face
And it never feels out of place.
And you're still probably working
At a 9 to 5 pace
I wonder how bad that tastes
When you see my face
I hope it gives you hell, I hope it gives you hell
When you walk my way
I hope it gives you hell, I hope it gives you hell
Now where's your picket fence love
And where's that shiny car
Did it ever get you far?
You never seem so tense, love
Never seen you fall so hard
Do you know where you are?
Truth be told I miss you
Truth be told I'm lying
When you see my face
I hope it gives you hell, I hope it gives you hell
When you walk my way
I hope it gives you hell, I hope it gives you hell
If you find a man thats worth the damn and treats you well
Then he's a fool you're just as well hope it gives you hell
Hope it gives you hell
Tomorrow you'll be thinking to yourself
Where did it all go wrong?
But the list goes on and on
Truth be told I miss you
Truth be told I'm lying
When you see my face
I hope it gives you hell, I hope it gives you hell
When you walk my way
I hope it gives you hell, I hope it gives you hell
If you find a man that's worth the damn and treats you well
Then he's a fool you're just as well hope it gives you hell
Now you'll never see
What you've done to me
You can take back your memories
They're no good to me
And here's all your lies
If you look me in the eyes
With the sad, sad look
That you wear so well
When you see my face
I hope it gives you hell, I hope it gives you hell
When you walk my way
I hope it gives you hell, I hope it gives you hell
If you find a man that's worth the damn and treats you well
Then he's a fool you're just as well hope it gives you hell
When you see my face
I hope it gives you hell, I hope it gives you hell (hope it gives you hell)
When you walk my way
I hope it gives you hell, I hope it gives you hell (hope it gives you hell)
When you hear this song and you sing along well you'll never tell
And you're the fool I've just as well I hope it gives you hell
When you hear this song I hope that it will give you hell
You can sing along I hope that it puts you through hell
Thursday, April 9, 2009
You Live, You Learn
It has already been a hell of a year for life experiences. I could go on and on about Thuy, but I'm tired of being in that place. She's gone, and I need to move on. The best I can do is make the most of my life without her.
What makes my heart so heavy today isn't even my tragedy, but it's so close to home that my heart is broken all the same. A couple of weeks ago, my sister's boyfriend went AWOL from the Navy, and we were all very confused and worried. Today, we found out that his body had just been found in a hotel. I don't know any more than that, but what I've been told is that they're calling it a suicide.
Having just a lost a friend myself, I know a little bit about how much it hurts. But Thuy isn't really dead, she's just... dead to me. I don't really want to go into it, but the short version is that I found out from a mutual friend (after seven months of not hearing from her) that she "just didn't want to be friend anymore." She never even said goodbye, and I never got an explanation.
That being said, it's almost beyond my imagination how much it really hurts when your loved one is really dead. I've known a couple people that died, but no one really close to me, just aquaintances and classmates. Except my grandpa, but that's very different... he was 82 and on life support, it was definitely his time and he was ready to go. But when someone goes before they get married, have kids, or even graduate... that's so much harder to deal with. You never stop wondering what could have been.
And at least for me, I can hardly wrap my brain around it. I didn't know him all that well, but he was very important to my sister, so that makes him at least indirectly important to me. I can still remember talking to him in person when he visiting us when he was on leave, very much alive and animated, with all sorts of plans for the future. I mean, it's impossible, he was just right there!! How can he possibly be dead??
The really, really weird thing is that just a few days ago, I had a dream about him. That's pretty extraordinary, cause like I said I hardly knew him. I dreamed I was at school, but my mom and sister were with me for some reason. I was getting something from my locker, and there was a post-it note on the locker that said "They have found my body. --Lee." And for some reason, we kept expecting him to walk around the corner. In the dream, it didn't make any sense, like how could he have written this note about himself if he was dead, and if that was the case, why did we expect him to show up? But as soon as I woke up, it was totally obvious... the note meant suicide. And, sure enough, it looks like that's what happened in real life.
I feel so weird. It's not that I miss him personally, since I didn't really know him, but it's very unsettling. Suicide is an ugly thought, no matter how you look at it. Especially since I've had to make a few suicide prevention calls for my loved ones before. Ironically, for the very girl that's dead to me now. More than anything, I just hurt for my sister. I really believe they were soulmates, and I don't use that term lightly. He brought out some good things in her, and although I know she's a strong girl, that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. Losing the ones you love is everyone's worst nightmare, and it's already true for her... and she hasn't even graduated from high school yet. I can't fathom the pain she must be going though, and my heart just aches for here. I only hope she can find happiness in something or someone else someday, even though no one can ever take another person's place.
Rest in peace, Lee.
What makes my heart so heavy today isn't even my tragedy, but it's so close to home that my heart is broken all the same. A couple of weeks ago, my sister's boyfriend went AWOL from the Navy, and we were all very confused and worried. Today, we found out that his body had just been found in a hotel. I don't know any more than that, but what I've been told is that they're calling it a suicide.
Having just a lost a friend myself, I know a little bit about how much it hurts. But Thuy isn't really dead, she's just... dead to me. I don't really want to go into it, but the short version is that I found out from a mutual friend (after seven months of not hearing from her) that she "just didn't want to be friend anymore." She never even said goodbye, and I never got an explanation.
That being said, it's almost beyond my imagination how much it really hurts when your loved one is really dead. I've known a couple people that died, but no one really close to me, just aquaintances and classmates. Except my grandpa, but that's very different... he was 82 and on life support, it was definitely his time and he was ready to go. But when someone goes before they get married, have kids, or even graduate... that's so much harder to deal with. You never stop wondering what could have been.
And at least for me, I can hardly wrap my brain around it. I didn't know him all that well, but he was very important to my sister, so that makes him at least indirectly important to me. I can still remember talking to him in person when he visiting us when he was on leave, very much alive and animated, with all sorts of plans for the future. I mean, it's impossible, he was just right there!! How can he possibly be dead??
The really, really weird thing is that just a few days ago, I had a dream about him. That's pretty extraordinary, cause like I said I hardly knew him. I dreamed I was at school, but my mom and sister were with me for some reason. I was getting something from my locker, and there was a post-it note on the locker that said "They have found my body. --Lee." And for some reason, we kept expecting him to walk around the corner. In the dream, it didn't make any sense, like how could he have written this note about himself if he was dead, and if that was the case, why did we expect him to show up? But as soon as I woke up, it was totally obvious... the note meant suicide. And, sure enough, it looks like that's what happened in real life.
I feel so weird. It's not that I miss him personally, since I didn't really know him, but it's very unsettling. Suicide is an ugly thought, no matter how you look at it. Especially since I've had to make a few suicide prevention calls for my loved ones before. Ironically, for the very girl that's dead to me now. More than anything, I just hurt for my sister. I really believe they were soulmates, and I don't use that term lightly. He brought out some good things in her, and although I know she's a strong girl, that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. Losing the ones you love is everyone's worst nightmare, and it's already true for her... and she hasn't even graduated from high school yet. I can't fathom the pain she must be going though, and my heart just aches for here. I only hope she can find happiness in something or someone else someday, even though no one can ever take another person's place.
Rest in peace, Lee.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
A nice example
...and a VERY pretty face. When signing out of MySpace, I came across this picture of a Maybelline model, and before I even looked to see what it was about, all I could think was WOW, she is beautiful. I saved the picture and edited out the advertisement portion... hahaha, I hope that's legal. Without further ado...
Gorgeous. At least I think so. You may be wondering, so what? Here's what... I was just having these conversations about how tan=healthy=beautiful in our culture, and that, because I'm naturally very pale, I look "sick" all the time... which I think is ridiculous. So I burn in the sun. I have an awesomely efficient immune system, I'm reasonably strong, and in pretty good shape. I am not sickly! I'm just Irish! But anyway, that was the second thing that struck me about this model. She's also very pale, probably about as pale as me. Granted her skin is much clearer than mine - and possibly photoshopped - but I don't think she looks sick at all. She looks glowing and healthy and beautiful. By comparison, here's a picture of yours truly, albeit with makeup, but still about my natural skin tone:
I don't look like I'm on the verge of death or anything, now do I?
It IS possible to be pale and pretty and not look like you're dying, I swear!
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