I started to write this long post about my first experience with love, but it was actually harder to write about than I thought it would be. I kept getting off-topic and editing everything over and over again because I wanted to include so many stories of the moments I once shared with a girl who will always have a special place in my heart. Instead, I have decided to narrow the stories down and give each one its own short post here and there in honor of LGBT Pride Month.
It had been two weeks since I last heard from “Beesly,” which was the longest we had ever gone without speaking since meeting. I didn’t really know why she had stopped talking to me all of a sudden, but I knew she must have had her reasons because it was unlike her to just disappear out of nowhere. Part of me was worried that there was a family emergency as she had mentioned that one of her step-sisters was having problems the night before her absence, so all I could do was hope that everything was okay.
One night, I was sitting at the table and was getting ready to take Max on a walk when I felt the need to check my messages. I had been talking to a friend earlier that day and figured he had replied by then, and that is when I saw that my phone was ready to explode with messages from Beesly. She was apologizing for suddenly going quiet and saying how much she missed me, as well as replying to the tons of messages I had left for her to come back to. I had promised to tell her what I thought of The Office, which was her favorite show, and I would send her goofy things so that she had something to laugh at whenever she returned. She was excited that I had fallen in love with The Office and relieved that I had kept messaging her rather than thinking that she had left for good or something.
Before I could even to begin to write back, Max started to bark and tug on his leash because he really needed go outside. I knew it wouldn’t take long and I didn’t want to make Max wait, so I put the phone down and went out. I just felt so happy at the time that I was glad to have a moment alone before anyone could ask me why I was grinning so much. I just felt so happy. The cold air and clear night only boosted my mood as I watched the stars and thought about everything I wanted to say to her.
I found myself standing near a pile of concrete blocks that the construction crew had left in our yard, looking up at the sky… And that’s when I saw it. A shooting star had just disappeared as fast as it had appeared. It was beautiful and bright, and I was surprised because it was the first time I had ever seen one without there being a meteor shower. It was completely out of the blue and was just as unexpected as it was to suddenly hear from Beesly just a few moments prior. I was excited and overwhelmed with happy thoughts and feelings.
Usually I would make wishes whenever I watched a meteor shower even though I knew it was a silly thing to do, but I didn’t that night. I didn’t close my eyes and make a wish because at that moment I felt like I had everything I could ever want. I couldn’t think of a single thing that was better than what was going on at that time.
After walking around with Max for a little while longer, we went in and I finally had a chance to reply to Beesly. She opened up about why she had stayed away and I completely understood because I had been there myself. What mattered most was that she was okay and feeling good.
I went to bed that night – and every night thereafter over the next couple of weeks – with a smile on my face as I thought about everything that happened. It was then that I decided I would find a way to tell her how I felt.
I know, I know, you guys might feel a little nauseated after reading something kind of lovey-dovey. But hey, it’ll all be over on June 30. Then I can get back to being my annoyingly punny self.
I usually don’t talk about how I came around to realizing my sexuality, but that’s because I’m actually super embarrassed of that story. It wasn’t anything exciting or even all that dramatic. Well, it was still a little dramatic, but not because I realized I was a lesbian. It actually just shows how naive and stupid I use to be as a teenager. However, since it is LGBT Pride Month, I’m going to share this story with you guys.
When I was 16 I had been in a long distance relationship for about a year with a slightly older boy in Canada that I met on a game. It was pretty good, but it wasn’t perfect. I mean, he was sweet and funny, but something just didn’t feel right. On top of that, I started to question his true identity. Some things were just not adding up, and that only made my doubts grow.
One night I was browsing Facebook to look for any shred of evidence if the guy (or his family that he introduced me to in chats) even existed. I searched every name I could think of and nothing came up. Finally, I searched the name of one person that I knew was legit because we had talked a couple of times using her grandmother’s Skype. It didn’t take long after that for me to find the truth.
In case you couldn’t tell yet, the truth is that the slightly older boy in Canada (and all of his family, for that matter) was really his friend, the slightly younger girl from Brazil that I had Skyped with. Learning that someone you were so close to lied about nearly everything they had ever told you is a lot like getting hit in the head by a random brick. You’re not sure why it hit you or who threw it, but once you finally come to everything is confusing, your head hurts, and you’re left feeling pissed off. Except, unlike getting hit by a brick, part of me felt relieved.
Suddenly a door opened for me that I didn’t even know existed, and when it did everything actually made sense. I no longer felt guilty about not feeling right about me being with a guy. I no longer felt like there was something wrong with me for never having crushes on any guys my whole life. There was never anything wrong with me, I was just gay. I was always a lesbian even before I realized it. Everything made sense to me and I felt so relieved by that feeling that I was more focused on the relief of knowing there was nothing wrong with me than I was about the girl lying.
Now I am proud of and strongly embrace my true sexuality rather than being ashamed and unhappy with the one that felt forced upon me by the expectations of my family and peers. And, obviously, things did not work out between the girl and I. Things became complicated and I eventually realized that the personality I was so attached to was as fake as the people she claimed to be.
It was a pretty shitty situation, but it taught me not to trust people I meet online so easily and helped me learn more about myself. I would never change anything that has happened because if not I would not be where I am at today. I’m as happy as Kristen Bell when she sees sloths.
You know, I just realized that I have never really celebrated LGBT Pride Month. I didn’t even know there was a month dedicated to celebrating members of the LGBT+ community, but knowing that there is such a thing fills my heart with joy and warmth. You know, until people start complaining about there not being a “Straight Pride” or start claiming that the LGBT+ community is shoving our “choices” down their throats – and yes, this actually happens. It happens so often that I have personally witnessed it, all the while not even knowing about LGBT Pride Month.
Rather than getting off subject and ranting about homophobic bigots, I want to celebrate this year’s LGBT Pride Month here with you folks. So, over the course of this month I will be sharing my personal stories as a member of the LGBT community.
Holy crap, I haven’t made a post in over a month. I honestly didn’t mean to go so long without writing here, especially after my last post being on the slightly dreary side, but it has been a busy month. Super busy. And eventful.
I took my proctored exams early this month and did exactly as I expected: I passed Anatomy and Physiology, and I failed Math. Again. I actually worked hard in this Math class after failing it last semester, and I was doing fine until it came down to the two proctor exams. Suddenly I forgot everything I had learned and spent two hours bullshitting answers in the hopes that they might be correct. Spoiler alert: They weren’t.
I was pretty upset about failing again, especially because I am literally only two classes away from graduating. The only problem is that I would have to re-take the Math class for a semester and then take an even harder Math class the next semester. That doesn’t sound too bad, but now I am totally burnt out from school. I kept having nightmares about forgetting to take my exams during finals week. If there was something I absolutely could not understand in Math (even after doing a ton of searches and watching videos of similar problems being worked out), I would break down and cry because certain things were just too hard for me to do. I had migraines that lasted for several days at a time while trying to complete my work. College Math is hell.
I still plan on going back to school and getting my degree, but it won’t be until fall of next year. I need a break from it before I push myself to finish. In the meantime, I am going to be studying my butt off between now and then so that the third time’s the charm. Hopefully.
While I hate the fact that I flunked the same class twice now, I have been pretty calm about it. Failing a class doesn’t mean you’re stupid, and passing a class doesn’t mean you’re smart. School doesn’t define our intelligence, and that is something I think more people should remember whenever they are starting to feel pressured about passing tests and classes. I wish I had realized this when I was little, that’s for sure.
Immediately after I failed my test (and, by extension, my class), I visited the pet store and adopted a ferret.
I’d also like to clarify that I would never take in an animal in an impulse buy/adopt/whatever – I’ve actually always wanted a ferret and have done extensive research on how to care for them for a while now. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t cheer me up straight away.
I named him Bandit, not because he has the “black mask,” but because my first thought was Smokey and the Bandit because I had the song Eastbound and Down stuck in my head (let’s just be glad that I didn’t name him Buford T. Justice). He’s adorable and playful – it didn’t take him long to adjust here. In fact, he has already gotten bigger and stronger as opposed to the mostly okay condition he was in when I got him. He’s certainly happier now, that’s for sure.
He might wake me up at 6 AM every morning, but he’s certainly a little sweetheart and I already love him so much. The cats were curious about him at first, but now they don’t care at all. Max is still afraid of him, but Boo absolutely loves the little guy. They play together every day, which is so freaking adorable. The cats don’t really care for him and mostly just want his toys. I could honestly go on for hours about him (and my other pets for that matter, I just love them all so much).
Two of my friends introduced me to Eurovision – or, as we call it, “Glittery Hellfire” – and it was beautiful. For those of you who might not know, Eurovision is basically a singing competition between European countries. It’s apparently considered the biggest European event of the year, and I can totally see why. I mean, look at that braid. It’s even better when you find out that the Epic Sax Guy meme originated from Eurovision when SunStroke Project represented the country of Moldova. And then they represented Moldova again this year and it was AMAZING.
I would have been rooting for them if I wasn’t so in love with Romania’s entry. (I mean, what’s better than rap + yodeling?? Nothing, hence this snazzy title.) I have been listening to their song – Yodel It! – on repeat ever since. It’s actually pretty good. Actually, most of the songs this year were amazing. I just want to make a playlist of my favorites and listen to them on long drives.
It was nice watching Eurovision live with them while we collectively spam the group chat we made with comments and cheers. It was mostly us comparing different singers to their actor look-a-likes and complaining about not seeing Verka yet (followed by disappointment and obscenities over Portugal winning).
In other words, Eurovision 2017 was AWESOME and I can’t believe I never heard of it until recently. We’re already excited for next year.
I also got a job recently; my first very real job. I was so nervous during the interview that I would answer the questions with a tangent of awkwardness, which would then make me forget the original question for a second. I was so nervous that, after admitting my nervousness, I got so tongue-tied for a short moment that I almost wanted to walk out from embarrassment. But I didn’t, which I would like to think showed how dedicated I am because I was offered the job several minutes later.
I am so excited about working, but I am also a little nervous. Maybe not extremely nervous, but just enough to have had a bad dream – though not quite a nightmare – in which I was saying all of the wrong things, accidentally breaking the rules, and not reaching my quota. Once I woke up and remembered my dream, I thought that I would have been even more nervous. I thought my anxiety would suddenly go through the roof. But unlike the nightmares I had during finals week, it didn’t.
In fact, I felt so much better after having such a crappy dream that most of my nervousness before has since gone away. Maybe it’s because I realized that even if I get slightly tongue-tied for a moment, I’ll bounce back like a ball. And because I know my first day will never be as bizarre and messed up as my dream. There is no way that I would accidentally drop two phones in a toilet that randomly showed up beside my desk.
I know that it’s normal to be nervous about starting your first job, but I also know that I am determined to work hard and to do the very best that I can. I kind of wish I had answered the interview questions as confidently as I feel now, but at least I can use this shred of confidence when I start working in a few days.
Along with all of that, I have been slowly getting out of that funk I was in. Last month was a real doozy because I just felt so numb and sad, but lately I have been feeling a lot better. Between adopting a sweet ferret, watching amazing performances with some Internet buddies, and getting ready to start my first job, how can I not feel so much better?
2017, for me, has already been one helluva ride, but with every down has been an even bigger up. So many things has changed in such a short time, but I’m ready to see what the rest of the year brings. I’m ready for changes and unexpected moments. I have a smile on my face, the sweetest friends, and a heart full of love, so no matter what type of “down” might suddenly pop in, there will always be an even bigger and better “up” waiting patiently.
Oh, and I realized that I still had feelings for someone when I clearly shouldn’t, so that’s something, too, I guess.
Okay, I’m not literally stuck in a maze. If I were, I probably wouldn’t be writing about it here right now. Unless it had Internet and I had my computer with me. But then I would probably be Googling “how to get out of a maze,” instead of writing about it here… Maybe.
I spent all morning trying to write a decent blog post, but I kept editing and deleting parts of it until I finally started over again and again. I wanted to mention the writing block I have been in, but I wasn’t satisfied with anything I wrote. Basically, if you looked up “writer’s block” in the dictionary an unflattering photo of me with mismatched pajamas sitting on the couch while facepalming would most likely pop up.
My recent hit of writer’s block is not from a lack of ideas or topics to write about – I just haven’t been feeling like writing. I haven’t been feeling like doing much of anything even though I have a lot of things I need and want to do. I just can’t bring myself to do them.
Lately I have been in a (certainly not severe, just irritable) depression that keeps coming and going for weeks at a time. It wouldn’t be so bad if my anxiety wasn’t acting up so much, too. Actually, the anxiety is what has been bothering me the most. The depression is just a mild add-on. So now I am stuck in a figurative maze of anxiety and depression.
I was originally comparing it to the talk Simba and Mufasa had in The Lion King about the circle of life because sometimes it’s like a circle that never really ends. Except it’s less fucked up because it’s not a circle about you dying and becoming grass. Or antelope eating your grassy remains. But it’s still fucked up because you suddenly overthink everything until you become oversensitive, or you’re already oversensitive and the overthinking just makes it worse. (Or at least that’s how it has been for me.)
But life isn’t like a circle at all. Like anxiety and depression, life is bumpy rather than smooth. So I started to compare them to octagons because they’re bumpy as hell. But, aside from the shapes of life, anxiety and depression aren’t like octagons at all. They’re more like a huge maze that’s hard to escape.
You often become lost while aimlessly trying to escape. Maybe you find hints or try tips that seem to be working until you realize they’re leading you to another dead-end. So you re-trace your steps and try another path until you hopefully and eventually find your way out of it. Sometimes you’re wary and worried, but sometimes you deny that you’re lost. Sometimes you might not even realize you’re lost until you pass the same statue for the fourth damn time.
Everyone experiences the maze differently, and that’s okay because no matter what there is always a way out of it. You might not always see the maze’s exit, but it’s there waiting on you. And when you do find it, you will know that everything was okay even when you didn’t feel it.
Beside my bed is a nightstand that holds many things: A TV remote, jewelry that I was too lazy to put back in my case, pens, a charger for my phone, the current book I am reading, a journal that has been barely started on but already holds my present innermost thoughts and feelings that I keep to myself, and a small notepad full of drabbles that I jot down as they come to me.
The drabbles are short and personal; sometimes they are just thoughts inspired by a song that evoked a lot of emotions out of me, and sometimes they are like pep talks for when I need it most. Lately, I have been giving myself a lot of pep talks because I start to overthink things or worry myself about the future, or maybe I just feel sad and jot things down. I’ve noticed that a lot of people have been pretty down lately as well, so I wanted to share some of these with you guys.
Let’s make a wish and dream of stars that shine brighter than the moon in a sea of clouds. Let’s escape to a world so beautiful it can only exist in our hearts. Let’s pretend that it doesn’t hurt when the ones we care for stops caring about us because we know that if we have room to hurt then we have room to love, too. Let’s pretend that everything is okay because soon enough everything really will be okay.
I wrote this after listening to Lana Del Rey’s rendition of Once Upon a Dream. I thought it was a nice twist to the classic, and the tone to it was something that reminded me of the dreary (but not quite dark) feeling that had been lingering around me off and on recently.
Right now might be tough, but it’ll get better… And tougher. But the tough moments always pass eventually, and that is when we can appreciate the better times. So instead of dwelling on the negatives, let’s get through this and look forward to the positives. They will be coming around the moment before she does. And who is this she, anyways? The song never specified that, but I bet she was also going through rough times and trying to move forward. Maybe the song is actually symbolic for when someone is going through a rough time (the mountains) and the train is actually moving forward to better times. Maybe it’s just a goofy song. It’s up to us to interpret it, right?
I got carried away on this one, but it was very late when I wrote it. I was feeling down and then, out of nowhere, that song came to mind so my exhausted brain started dissecting it. You’re welcome, English professors.
When you plan things, it never really works out the way you expected or initially wanted it to. That’s okay, because it’s the unexpected turns and twists that can make the best memories (and anecdotes for awkward situations). Rather than getting disappointed, we should embrace these moments and look for the positive light shining in whatever plans fell through. For now, let’s just plan the unexpected. That way we are always right and always surprised.
Almost everything I plan on doesn’t really happen and I can never seem to prevent it or get things back on track. A lot of times I get disappointed, but I still try to remain positive because I know that whatever will happen will happen if it’s meant to be – even if I have to give it a little nudge. If not, then that’s okay, too. Because life is full of surprises and we can either run from them or embrace the inevitable. (This was meant to be a commentary, but apparently I am in drabble-mode. Oops.)
Sometimes we feel as if we are diamonds: Unbreakable, beautiful, and loved. Most of the time, however, we probably feel like dirt clumps: Easily broken, ugly, and as if our presence is desired by no one. But not everyone likes diamonds, and not everyone hates dirt clumps. Maybe, rather than a dirt clump or a diamond, we are most like coal; Indifferent and a mix of smoothness and roughness. Maybe someday we will become the diamonds we sometimes wish we were, but if not then we’re still okay.
There are days when I feel happy and positive, but then there are days when I feel down and negative. That’s when I need to remind myself that I am like coal. Also, I should not be used or else it might screw up the world. (Side note: Why are we still not using renewable resources to save the planet?)
Maybe these drabbles will sound silly or weird – they might not even make much sense to some people. But they make sense to me (and hopefully to you guys, too), and that is what matters most. Also, I know they are not quite “drabbles,” but “drabbles” seemed like a good word to use instead of “random-crap-I-was-too-tired-to-100%-think-through.”
I started writing in a journal this past week after over a month of contemplating on whether or not it would end up as cringe-worthy (and abandoned) as the last one I tried to keep. I finally talked myself into it because, hey, at least it would be funny or interesting (or cringe-worthy, most likely) to read it when I am older. It’s already full of personal shit and things too personal even for here, but today’s entry is something I feel like you guys deserve to read. Enjoy!
I learned three four five new things today.
Never, ever, ever leave anything you actually care about and/or want to remain intact – like my Sharpie pen – on my bed unless you want to find Max chewing it because he thinks it’s a new toy.
Don’t try to put the cap on the bottom of said Sharpie pen because it probably wouldn’t (aka didn’t) fit after being slightly deformed by a five-pound Yorkshire Terrier.
The local bookstore opens at 12 PM sharp, so if you arrive less than 10 minutes early they will not unlock the doors to let you in even if all of their signs says they are open. Instead, you will have to decide on whether you should stay there and wait for 7 minutes while wasps (that which you might have an uncontrollable phobia of from that one horrifying experience that left you in tears all night while in pain) and passing cars fly by around you (I’m not even going to try to clarify that the cars aren’t actually flying and that they’re really just speeding… Oops.) or if you should head back to the van and leave with your increasingly impatient mother who is anxious about getting home.
Girl Scout Thin Mint cake (the box said it was cupcake mix, but only monsters eat mini cakes) tastes surprisingly better than one might expect. It was the best spoonful of cake that I’ve had in forever.
If you fall asleep while laying horizontally in your unmade bed with your lights on in your room with Max still being in the living room when it’s almost 1 AM while waiting for what feels like hours when it’s only been like 30 minutes (which is still a helluva long time) on Nick to get out of the bathroom so you can brush your teeth, your mom will most definitely barge in to wake you up so you can wake your dog up and bring him to your room because he’s supposed to stay in your room at night and there is a chance the bathroom will STILL be occupied by Nick (who is most likely watching YouTube videos on his phone because he hides away in the bathroom to watch videos in order to get out of having to do things around the house). Then you might start writing about this in your journal after nearly hissing at Nick to hurry just to keep you busy while you anxiously wait on the bathroom to free up only to be interrupted by your mom texting you to lock the doors EVEN THOUGH YOU HAD ALREADY LOCKED THEM because she forgot you had locked them, which, after thinking about it, makes you start to feel less secure and you sigh inwardly because you realize that you have to make sure the house is locked up before bed from now on.
That last thing was a doozy. It literally happened just now, and as I write this I am a perfect medley of half-asleep and pissed off at how long Nick has been in the bathroom. I’m starting to wonder if Thin Mint cake can substitute toothpaste because that might be my only way of getting to brush my teeth tonight, but now that I read that again with a slightly more awake brain I realize that it would actually do the opposite and be a really bad plan. Also, someone needs to invent a cake that could take the place of toothpaste for situations just like this. It could be like Greenies, but for humans.
Suddenly I am getting off track and forgetting how angry I am. And how sleepy I am. If I don’t get to sleep soon, I’ll… I’ll.. Screw it, I’ll just probably fall asleep right here and end up drooling all over the pages. On the bright side, at least it would be like the perfect test to see just how well-made this journal is and if the Sharpie pens could withstand my saliva without smudging. Oh! He’s out! Gotta go make Chip Skylark proud!
Okay, I’m back. My teeth are clean and minty fresh (not from cake, I swear), and I may or may not have the song “Shiny Teeth and Me” stuck in my head. Okay, I do. Big deal. It’s not like anyone will ever find out about this. Although… This experience might have been bitter for me, it would make a great blog post…
Today was a learning experience and I’m hopeful there isn’t a review tomorrow for the test. I’m okay with flunking this shit. But, hey, at least I got to re-watch The Lion King with James today and eat a spoonful of cake.
I wonder if this post alone would be sufficient in my About Me page because you may never get a better idea of how I am than you would with this post. It even came straight from my diary.
Also, after brushing my teeth I am now wide awake. If not for this I would have just made a note on my phone to write this tomorrow. But now I’m starting to doze off, so I hope you guys can find some humor in my angry (and quite possibly passive-agresssive-ish) journal entry. Maybe tomorrow I will laugh about it, too, after I scold Nick for being a total bathroom hog.
I was going to use the word “poopy” in the title of this post, but when is that word ever really acceptable? You know, unless you’re potty training a kid or using that instead of “shitty” around the lil’ anklebiters. But since I already said it: Yesterday’s Walmart adventure was shitty poopy.
The past couple of days have been pretty boring, so I wanted to do something to break the routine. Which… A trip to Walmart might not seem like such a big deal, but I just wanted out of the house. So when my mom was on her lunch break, I got dressed and headed out to Walmart with her. I was hoping it would be like my last Walmart adventure, but this adventure sucked. There wasn’t even penis-covered tablet cases anymore.
It started off okay; I even saw Lilly Singh’s new book out, which totally excited me because I LOVE her YouTube videos. And then I bought it online from Barnes and Noble because their’s was cheaper AND signed. I’m going to swoon when it comes in. I also found a cute owl wax warmer for the Harry Potter wax melt that was gifted to me. From then on, it went down hill fast. Why? Because I’ve been to Walmart hundreds of times. I am always having to pick up groceries or my brother’s medication, so I am always looking around in there. I’ve pretty much seen it all so many times that the adventure becomes lackluster. Which, in retrospect, can you really expect more than that from a trip to Walmart?
After an hour, I decided to sit out in the van to be alone and charge my phone. I decided to message a friend to see if she wanted to talk on Skype, but after over an hour of waiting on a reply I deleted the message because I figured she was busy. And, honestly, didn’t think she has been interested in talking to me. It’s silly, but when it comes to friends I get really insecure. I start to feel annoying when I message them first or go on about things they might not care about, so I shut up. And then when I start to feel like they don’t really want to talk to me anymore or as if they have lost interest, I start to fade and shut them out. And sit in the van, alone and sad, while wishing I had stayed in bed.
When they go without talking to me, too, I switch between two thoughts:
“I’m glad they’re not upset by me being quiet; I can be quiet as much as I need.” – As an insecure introvert with anxiety and depression, quiet time alone is like a sanctuary.
“I wish they would actually talk to me, but what if they just don’t want to?” – However, instead of a sanctuary, sometimes it is more like a curse.
There are times when I want to be social and chat it up with everyone, but I can’t always bring myself to do so. I tend to rely on others to talk to me first – not to be petty, but to get that push. Sometimes, like yesterday and today, I give myself that push and try to talk to my friends, but after a while of them not reading my messages or trying to talk to me I just panic, delete the messages, and go back to my hiding place until I shake off the negative thoughts and feelings.
Sometimes we just have to dust off the negativity and look for the brighter things in life. But we should always remember that, as Jenny Lawson often says, depression lies. People do care about you, even when your brain tells you that they couldn’t care less.
Not that anyone actually did anything to my Harry Potter books; they are still safely on my bookshelf. I had a dream last night that wasn’t quite a nightmare because it wasn’t scary, but it did rattle me emotionally. I guess it was more of a confusing and bad dream than a full blown nightmare.
I don’t remember much from it other than, for some reason, I was living in a large house with my family and shared a room with my friend. Aaand there was a group of old, devout Christian women living in the rooms upstairs (not that it’s a bad thing, I am a Christian, too). Why? Because they wanted to be closer to Heaven. Because I have no idea, that’s why.
The room my friend and I shared was small and messy compared to the rest of the house. It was big enough for two twin sized beds at each wall with barely enough room for us to lay beside each other in the floor between the beds. And there were art supplies EVERYWHERE on the floor. Colored pencils, sketchbooks, gel pens, oil pastels, and even paint. I want to assume that most of these things were mine for coloring books considering she seems to prefer arting (spellcheck says that arting isn’t a word which is silly because it is definitely a real word) digitally. She was laying down, sketching an anthro (apparently anthro isn’t a real word either, but I’m still using it. SUCK IT, SPELLCHECK) poodle character she had apparently been wanting to use as a mascot for her art sales.
It reminded me that I wanted to show her something I made, so I sat next to her and turned on my tablet. Just as I entered the password, there were shouts and crashes coming from upstairs. My friend didn’t seem to hear it or care, and instead said she wanted to draw old cartoon characters as animals to see how they would turn out. I was beyond confused as to how she could ignore (or maybe not even hear) the noises, but I shrugged it aside and ran to see what was going on. That’s when I saw it.
My bookcase was laying at the bottom of the stairs, broken with my books barely surviving the fall. I started to pick everything up and getting the bookcase out of the way when I noticed something: All of my Harry Potter books, bookmarks, and buttons were gone. They weren’t on the floor, hanging off the shelves, or even laying on the steps. They were nowhere to be found, and I wanted to know why. I walked up the stairs, still picking up books as I went along. When I finally made it to the top of the stairs, I smelt smoke coming from the rooms that the women were staying in.
Just as I was about to knock on the door, a woman (who looked like Ethel from Parks and Recreation) opened the door and started screaming at me. More and more of the women ran behind her, all bickering and yelling about how they “took care of the book problems.” I didn’t understand what was going on, but having five or six little old ladies screaming at me after they destroyed my books and bookcase was enough to make my anxiety go through the roof. I panicked and slammed the door before running (and half-falling) down the stairs.
My immediate response to what happened was to tell my family about it so someone else could deal with the situation. Which would have been great if not for the fact that I couldn’t find any of my family. I looked in every room, still hearing the yelling from upstairs, but no one could be found. It wasn’t until I was about to give up and hide in my room that I nearly walked into my mom. I tried telling her about what happened, but she didn’t seem to care. She just told me to mind my elders and to behave (as if I was a child acting up). It frustrated me, but I didn’t say anything about it. Instead I took to my room to hide from the craziness.
I tried telling my friend about what happened, but she didn’t really seem to care. She just kept drawing and asking me to hand her the pencil sharpener and eraser. The yelling only got louder as I sat in my bed, almost in tears. It wasn’t like anything big or horrific was happening, but it was enough to have me wanting to scream and cry. It was enough for me to wake up while still feeling like I needed to scream and cry (and even confused as to why I wasn’t already).
But I didn’t, and I did manage to get back to sleep a little bit afterward. The dream afterward was still kind of weird, but not in the stressful and holy-shit-what-is-happening-I-need-to-hide way. It was about an old friend that I tried to contact suddenly. The weird part is that she replied to me in French. Yeah, dafuq, right? It confused me a little, but instead of asking her about it I started scrambling on my phone to send her the lyrics to Cindy Daniel’s song Sous Une Pluie D’étoiles. Not the English translation, no, the French lyrics. And she doesn’t even know French (I BARELY know any).
I don’t understand why she sent me something in French or especially why I chose to send her those lyrics, but dreams are meant to not make sense, right? And at least it wasn’t about screaming old ladies who burnt my Harry Potter books, RIGHT? Those questions aside, I think I know why I had these dreams (for the most part).
Before bed I was looking on Barnes & Noble for Harry Potter merchandise when I saw that there was a book about how Christians should deal with Harry Potter. I rolled my eyes and laughed about it for a moment. For the more emotional stuff, however, I think it was because I have recently started talking to a friend about things that have been on my mind for the past couple of weeks. It was nice to get it out and to talk with someone who has been through the same sort of situations (and have similar reactions to these situations) as me. The only thing is that instead of ignoring these things like usual, I am left thinking about them before bed after having ice cream and a shot of Buttery Nipple (don’t judge me).
All in all, it’s safe to say that my Harry Potter books are safe and sound.
When some people see dandelions, they see pesky weeds that are “ruining” their lawn. Others might see allergies or bees (the latter is actually a good thing and we should totally try to save our bees), which bums them out. When I see dandelions, part of me still sees wishes ready to be blown.
A few weeks ago, I was reading Nova’s (I really recommend reading her blog; she is so funny and insightful as she writes about her trips around the world) blog post about treating yourself when it made me think of how often I treat my own self. Other than a trip to Louisville to meet Jenny Lawson and getting a new journal for writing on my Walmart adventure, I almost never treat myself to anything. In fact, I am one of those people that almost rarely treats themselves. I’d rather get things for other people – whether they need it or not – and if I do treat myself I usually feel guilty about it immediately after because the funds could have gone to something more important. Don’t even get me started on when people gift me things.
While that is mostly because I’d rather be practical and save for the future, there is a part of me deep down that doesn’t really feel like I deserve to treat myself to jewelry or handbags or anything special. Why? I don’t know. No one has ever tried to talk me out of treating myself except myself. My family and friends have always urged me to self-gift when they know something has caught my eye, but I almost never do. When they ask why not I never have a good answer to give so I usually change the subject or act like I didn’t really want or need whatever it is even though I did. Then I will think about getting the item and guilt immediately washes over me before I even decide to get it.
So, after reflecting on my lack of self-kindness (or self-esteem?), I decided to look for something that I always wanted: A moon locket. I found a beautiful one, but then I thought about something I would treasure even more: A terrarium necklace. And that led me to finding this window locket with three dandelion seeds preserved inside. I’d like to think of it as wishes kept close to my heart for when I really need them, which is more often than I would like to admit.
It might seem childlike or silly, but I still like to make wishes. Sometimes I wish on the first star I see at night and any meteorites passing through. I wish on dandelions, fallen eyelashes, and broken turkey wishbones. Sometimes when 11:11 rolls around and I happen to see the time, part of me remembers elementary school when the kids would say, “It’s 11:11, let’s make a wish!” And I wish on that, too. A lot of it is because of habits from when I was a kid that are hard to break, but part of it is because there are a lot of things that I would wish for if wishes were real.
For a moment, let’s pretend that wishes are real and we could have that one thing we want with all our hearts and make a wish together. Let’s close our eyes, picture whatever it is, and smile as we think our wishes (because obviously if we say it the wish might not come true). It might not come true just yet, or even at all, but at least you wished for it, right?
Now let’s start treating ourselves better, be it with self-gifts or simply taking better care of ourselves. We might make wishes, but we don’t need them to be kind to ourselves.