If you arn't laughing, you're crying.

*note that all photos/art in this blog are produced by me.

I reserve all rights to refuse duplication.

Goodmorning 2pm.

Sometimes I wake up at 2pm.

And no, I'm not lazy. As a fact, I was up all night thinking about what I'm going to do with all the chaos on my dinner place while chopping away at paper cupcakes for my job in the upcoming fall.

Sometimes I wake up at 2pm because I'd rather be dreaming of anything, anytime, anywhere- but HERE.

HERE is where I'm the scapegoat. HERE is where I'm the fault, the youth, the daughter. I'm the reason for the loss of love, the reason for the empty refridgerator, the reason the dishes arn't done. I'm the wrong.

And when I'm not here? I'm THERE.

THERE is where I'm the cherished. Don't be fooled though. THERE is where I'm lied to, THERE is where I'm tugged, pulled this way and that, THERE is where I'm confused as if she might be on drugs on day- and not the next. THERE is where I miss HERE, and HERE is where I miss THERE.

"Too bad my parents don't get along.

It was a one month relationship probably- a hookup.

Looking at me, you wouldn't be able to tell that I'm the spawn of two drug addicts.

I'm the spawn of two confused adults, lost in their own world of doubt and denial."

-Me

Doubt and Denial;

2 terrible states of mind,

especially in your 50's.

I was in the middle of BOTH hells

the other day. While babysitting my

darling niece, trying to ease her into

the bathroom where I'd convince her

that it is much better to go to the bathroom

that to wet her pants, my phone rang.

Which was quite odd-

Because it was my old man who was

on the other side, in a calm and sober voice,

which is rarely heard- EVER.

He spoke softly, avoiding his mistress-

Miss Maryann,

who had been fighting her way all night.

He spoke in a wisper, telling me his troubles,

and how he has decided that he will call it off,

and break up with the woman he's been living with

for the past 6 years. I didn't know what to say at first,

I immediated asked if he had been drinking, and if he had

thought it over. He answered with a quick statement of doubt-

Doubt that he could live this way anymore, doubt that he could

live with a woman who drives him to drink,

drives him to feelashamed of his daughter (thats me).

Immedatedly-

I told him to sleep on it. I refuse to be the reason my dad stays single

till the end of time. He had raised me alone, he had worked day and

night at the old canery, he had done all he could have ever done to

 make sure that I wouldn't be stuck in the same situation that he was in himself.

He had sacrificed so much for me-

and now,

 when I finally thought he was happy,

I was interrupted with that phone call.

So maybe I was up late thinking about the chaos I had caused.

Maybe I was up dreading the fall, and how I'm placed back in Gentle-

the hall that does nothing, at no time, never. And of course---

I'd be the one complaining about being paid to do nothing while

going to school. Of course I'd be the one of complain to have a studio

apartment all to myself instead of a one room cell with freshman.

Yeah- of course that's me. I'd rather be appreciated, needed, wanted-

than to be cooped up in a room, thinking of ways to improve from one

year to the next.

But anyways-

Sometimes I wake up at 2pm because I'd rather be dreaming of anything, anytime, anywhere- but HERE. Because here is where they are, where life's problems and trouble are, where chaos lands and builds up on your dinner place until one day- you must eat what you've been given, and that's that.

 

 





You know my name, not my story.

Dear Reader;

First off-
I'd like to say that I'm not a perfect person. I never have been and I never will be. As a fact actually, I come from a LONG LINE of imperfect people. My parents for starters have several flaws. And THEIR PARENTS, have stories to tell as well.

So I guess you could think of it as a positive gesture that my dad stopped at me. I'm the last of the line. The end.

BUT this blog isn't about them for heavens sake. It's about me. This blog was created over a month ago, was neglected, abandoned, and now I'm trying to revive what's lost.

Originally, I created this blog to vent about life in general. I assumed no person related to me or associated to my daily actions would have access to my random rants about how bad I'm getting paid or how awful the boy that sits next to me in class smells.

Well- like most women, I've changed my mind. I've decided to use this blog as a tool to share my story and walks of life. Sure, you can asssume that a 20 year old student at a university of whatever in the middle of who knows where has little to share, but the truth is- I do. You don't have to read these blogs for entertainment, you don't have to discuss the pointless banter on facebook, I'm writing this blog for me and me alone.

Take it however you'd like-

afterall- you know my name, not my story.

Sincerely-
someone who's feeling antsy.