1. I've come to realize that my ex is: Uh... which one are we talking about, again?
2. People like me because: I smile a lot and don't say much.
3. I talk: a lot more than I used to!
4. I love: God, fambily, muzak
5. My best friends are: My dog and my family.
7. I lost: my train of thought.
8. I hate: things that are annoying.
9. Love is: non-existent except when we are talking about God's love for us.
10. Marriage is: a fairytale or a joke... take yer pick.
11. Somewhere, someone is thinking: Wow this girl is too young to be jaded.
12. I'll always be: Female
13. I have a crush on: No one, it is quite nice!
14. The last time I cried was: Two sad movies in one night a couple weeks ago!
15. My cell phone is: too loud.
16. When I wake up in the morning: do I ever end up waking up?
17. Before I go to sleep at night: I cuddle with my puppy.
18. Right now I am thinking about: The brownies that are cooling on the oven.
19. Babies are: Cute but smelly!
20. I get on myspace: At night when I am bored.
21. Today I: slogged through yet another monday!
22. Tonight I will: Eat brownies and soy milk and go to bed!
23. Tomorrow I will: Go to work, work out with my sis, go to band practice, hang out with the fam.
24. I really want: all my projects to be done!
25. The person who is most likely to repost this: Uh, no one?
Don't Lie Survey
1. Last cigarette: Second hand? Last week... on my own? Never tried it.
2. Last beverage: Water I believe.
3. Last phone call: My mom.
4. Last text message: Jamie
5. Last CD played: my iPod... but Hillsong United
6. Last bubble bath: A few years ago :)
7. Last time you cried: Couple weeks ago... inundated by sad sad movies!
8. Last meal: Roast beef with potatoes, rutabegas, parsnips (yarm!), turnips, carrots, onions... and Pillsbury biscuits!
9.Last kiss: Romantic like? Almost two years ago... otherwise I kissed my nephew O'Riley this evening.
EIGHT Have You's
1. Have you ever dated someone twice? Like, gone out with them a second time? Yeah. Broke up then dated them again? Not officially.
2. Have you ever been cheated on? *eyes go big* According to him, or me (my heart lol)?
3. Have you ever bought condoms? No, how embarrassing!
4. Have you ever kissed someone & regreted it? *snickers*
5. Have you ever fallen in love? I guess you could call it that.
6. Have you ever lost someone? Uhm, no?
7. Have you ever been depressed? Pfft! Yeah.
8. Have you ever been drunk and thrown up? No hahaha
Name SIX things you did in the past three days
1. Made brownies
2. Played my bass
3. Hanged out with my cousin!
4. Laundry
5. Watched my TV show "McLeod's Daughters" that I bought on DVD
6. Worked on my book
List THREE favorite colors
1. Brown
2. Grey
3. Copper/bronze
List ONE thing you want to do before you die
1. Fly!
SO FAR IN 07....
Been to school - online, yes.
Made a new friend - hmmm... not really?
Done something you swore never to do? *raises eyebrow* nah
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Meanderings---> Tangible Feelings.
--->"And what was said to the rose to make it unfold/was said to me here in my chest" - David Crowder
You ever feel that way?
I do, sometimes. Mostly when I worship God, and He says "thank you".<---
--->Recognition. It is a good feeling, especially when I come home from work and O'Riley is over at the house... I peek through the window and tap on it, and he'll look up (you can see the quizzical expression flash across his little boy features), and BAM! That smile! And then I see his mouth move, saying "Aunt Suseee".<---
--->There is not much of a better feeling than when, after you get done playing soccer, your legs are so weak that you can barely hold the clutch down.<---
--->Worshiping God, and finding that connection, and you know He's there. Okay, He's always there, but the feeling of knowing that you know that you know. The point where all you want to do is fall flat on your face in front of Him - that's where you belong, for eternity, and it's SO alright.<---
--->The smell and the sounds of being in the middle of a forest. Mostly the smell. And the lack of sound. And the emptyness that really isn't empty, it's really wholeness under the guise of being empty. That is beauty.<---
a day in the life of the dark
Some time ago (I don't know when) I wrote this... and I just found it. I like it. So I decided to post it. It is a bit dark, but I think it pretty closely describes some aspects of frustration.
I see my future in a glimpse.
The tears, the rain.
The fear that turns to anger,
The drowning that becomes the flood.
Let it not be my fate -
Fighting against something
A wall of brick
That cannot be moved.
What thunders pushing against
An immobile restraint,
The storm inside
Shown in shades of black,
The stain of shadow,
Mocking laughter creeps.
A mask of arrogance.
I see my future in a glimpse.
The tears, the rain.
The fear that turns to anger,
The drowning that becomes the flood.
Let it not be my fate -
Fighting against something
A wall of brick
That cannot be moved.
What thunders pushing against
An immobile restraint,
The storm inside
Shown in shades of black,
The stain of shadow,
Mocking laughter creeps.
A mask of arrogance.
four AM
Your complacency is a poison
It rots the soul
Everything you touch
Drifts away
Can you hold on tighter
The soles of my shoes are wearing thin
Walking in circles
Waiting for you
Stumbling over
The castles
You've built in the sand
You better find out
Just how deep your scars go
Does this path lead anywhere
Other than where
I've just been
I don't want to be here any more
Get me out
Take me out
Don't Mess With My Family
I used to have angry outbursts when I was a kid (the house I grew up in had a few half-moon shaped holes in the wall and doors from when I'd throw my tantrums... barefoot, of course), but I've been pretty mellow and even-keeled recently. It has come from a self-inflicted detachment: I've experienced the floor-sinking dispair of sudden rejection and isolation, the slow ache of loneliness (the kind where you inexplicably burst into tears at VERY inconvenient moments), and the bitter dissapointment of being the last one picked (and there's more, but it gets redundant) - all within the past two or so years. Even with all this emotion and distress that I've experienced, nothing comes quite so close to a complete loss of control and participation of nastily destructive behavior than what I went through a couple weeks ago.
I have told people over and over (and felt strangely ashamed - this behavior is NOT ok for someone who tries not to draw attention to herself, especially negative) that if they play dirty against my family, they will be hurting. See, recently I have been playing indoor soccer with my sister, her husband, and his brothers. It has been about building skill, getting in shape and having fun. Recently, though, we have played against not only some very good teams, but also some very un-sportmanlike teams. Whenever I see people getting agressive against my sister, my hackles go up (ok, I have no fur and therefore no hackles, but you get what I mean), and I get a bit agitated. Aggression, in itself, is quite alright, and I tell myself to calm down... but, see, my sister is GOOD. And people don't really expect it, either (DUDE! She had a full-ride scholarship to Central for soccer - she's GOOD.... and then there is the fact that she had to red-shirt, and that was my fault because we got in a fight and I went "HI-YA!" and kicked her knee backwards... not aggressive not aggressive.... but she was bigger than me!!! Ok, so things have changed now, I don't get angry anymore, right? Well then you can probably suspect [accurately] some psychological type guilt issues and that may bring about my need to feel like I should protect her...), and when they keep getting beat by her, they start to play dirty. And I get mad. Not just mad. My heart starts beating really fast. My muscles get tense all over. I envision myself about ten times stronger and three times bigger than I really am. I feel myself puffing my chest out and spreading my arms a bit. If they knock my sister down, I completely ignore the game and stand staring at the person that did it until she gets up and shakes it off. OK, so now we are getting down to the anger/aggression issues. Here's what happened.
I won't go into too much of the backstory (because I don't know who goes on here and who reads these), but we had scrimmaged this particular team before. Actually, I had played for them before because they didn't have enough girls - and I never played with them again because I was so disgusted at the way they played. They were ankle biters in the worst way - people who kick at the ankles of the opponent whether or not they have a chance of getting the ball. Some of the guys on the team also played the other peoples bodies, not the ball (more acceptable in football or RUGBY). We scrimmaged them two weeks in a row because the league had a break - the first week, I sprained my other ankle. No biggie, I was playing against our own player playing goalie for the other team... and we were both going for the ball and I took a large stride and... ugh... landed on his foot, and when he pulled his foot up to take his next step, mine rolled off, went CRAAAAAACK crunch-crunch-crrrrck (think about what it would feel like to step on a full but opened fun-pack bag of Dorito's - that is what it sounded and felt like) and then the pain. Oh, the pain. This time (I did this about six months ago to my other ankle...) I knew what was coming, and I wasn't scared (which is why I cried the time before). All I had to do was curl up and wait for the pain to go away. And it did, after about four minutes... I think. Anyways, while I was on the ground they decided that they were gonna end the game (we had been playing for like an hour and 15 minutes straight...) and they let Riley come sit on me... and throw the ball at me... and stood around chatting until I was ready to relinquish my fetal position and get up. Ok, skip to the next week... another scrimmage, but I couldn't play because of my aforementioned injury. Stupid ankle.
So, there was this new player on the other team... short, scruffy, dark hair, green shirt that said something about Ireland. He also had on boxers with shamrocks. I'm guessing he was Irish (ok, quit thinking dirty - I saw the boxers when he changed from his shorts to his jeans after the game... everyone does it. Jeesh). Anyways, he was playing keeper... somewhat aggressively. My sis dribbled into the box between a couple defenders and... THWACK! He was gone with the ball... The "thwack" sound, by the way, was his foot hitting her ankle as he took the ball. And, an "ouch!" came from my sister. My sister doesn't say "ouch". Grr. Skip to later in the game... my sister has a breakaway, all alone - she has a wide open goal, the keeper starts towards her to make the angles smaller... she shoots, she - well, he goes down, grabbing at his crotch. Meanwhile, I do a VERY small dance on the sideline and yes I am proud of myself because I said NOTHING and didn't even let him see me gloat when he staggered off the field. The rest of the game was uneventful. Good.
The next week... I still couldn't play (BLAH! Ok, lovehandles are starting to pop up! Get this over with, already!), but this week was a real leaugue game and we had a ref. I don't remember too much of the game because I was chasing Riley round and round the field, but I could tell that tempers were barely under control... the ref wasn't calling very many of the fouls... so, I try to feed Riley some cheese and keep him from running around with a chunk of cheese in his mouth when I hear a huge CRACK! and I look onto the field... and my heart drops to my stomach. It's my sister, on the ground in the box, and the keeper, standing of to one side. And she's crying. SHE... DOES... NOT... CRY!!! I was twenty feet away from her when she went up for a header and instead of getting the ball, she got her opponent's head... broke her nose... and we found out a few weeks later that she crushed part of her skull just above her eye, too. No cry. It was a few hours before we even went to the hospital, and NO TEARS. She was just quiet. Well, here, now, on the field, she was crying. She was in pain. She was holding her stomach, knee, rolling on the ground, sobbing. And I was angry. I didn't know what happened, I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt... but just the week before he had kicked her, hard. A foul, NOT an accident. Now, my sister couldn't stop crying. My sister does not cry. And... I look down and Riley ran off... so I chase after him... and try to distract myself with him. But... man... so ANGRY. And my sister is still out there, howling in pain. And the keeper is talking to his friends like nothing happened. Lucky... lucky... saved by the cute nephew. Well, my hand was red and numb... somewhere during that time I had hit the plexiglass window... quite hard.
Hmm... lucky... anything to do with being Irish? Well, if I am able to play the next time we play that team... I hope I come out less hurt than him, but I dunno... this wierd thing happens where I stop thinking, and just act... my vision had kinda gone funny, too - black/red around the edges. And all I wanted was an excuse to jump over that wall and onto the field... but see, I had no proof that he had fouled her, I just saw the aftermath. *Sigh* Keep me away from short scruffy Irish boys.
I have told people over and over (and felt strangely ashamed - this behavior is NOT ok for someone who tries not to draw attention to herself, especially negative) that if they play dirty against my family, they will be hurting. See, recently I have been playing indoor soccer with my sister, her husband, and his brothers. It has been about building skill, getting in shape and having fun. Recently, though, we have played against not only some very good teams, but also some very un-sportmanlike teams. Whenever I see people getting agressive against my sister, my hackles go up (ok, I have no fur and therefore no hackles, but you get what I mean), and I get a bit agitated. Aggression, in itself, is quite alright, and I tell myself to calm down... but, see, my sister is GOOD. And people don't really expect it, either (DUDE! She had a full-ride scholarship to Central for soccer - she's GOOD.... and then there is the fact that she had to red-shirt, and that was my fault because we got in a fight and I went "HI-YA!" and kicked her knee backwards... not aggressive not aggressive.... but she was bigger than me!!! Ok, so things have changed now, I don't get angry anymore, right? Well then you can probably suspect [accurately] some psychological type guilt issues and that may bring about my need to feel like I should protect her...), and when they keep getting beat by her, they start to play dirty. And I get mad. Not just mad. My heart starts beating really fast. My muscles get tense all over. I envision myself about ten times stronger and three times bigger than I really am. I feel myself puffing my chest out and spreading my arms a bit. If they knock my sister down, I completely ignore the game and stand staring at the person that did it until she gets up and shakes it off. OK, so now we are getting down to the anger/aggression issues. Here's what happened.
I won't go into too much of the backstory (because I don't know who goes on here and who reads these), but we had scrimmaged this particular team before. Actually, I had played for them before because they didn't have enough girls - and I never played with them again because I was so disgusted at the way they played. They were ankle biters in the worst way - people who kick at the ankles of the opponent whether or not they have a chance of getting the ball. Some of the guys on the team also played the other peoples bodies, not the ball (more acceptable in football or RUGBY). We scrimmaged them two weeks in a row because the league had a break - the first week, I sprained my other ankle. No biggie, I was playing against our own player playing goalie for the other team... and we were both going for the ball and I took a large stride and... ugh... landed on his foot, and when he pulled his foot up to take his next step, mine rolled off, went CRAAAAAACK crunch-crunch-crrrrck (think about what it would feel like to step on a full but opened fun-pack bag of Dorito's - that is what it sounded and felt like) and then the pain. Oh, the pain. This time (I did this about six months ago to my other ankle...) I knew what was coming, and I wasn't scared (which is why I cried the time before). All I had to do was curl up and wait for the pain to go away. And it did, after about four minutes... I think. Anyways, while I was on the ground they decided that they were gonna end the game (we had been playing for like an hour and 15 minutes straight...) and they let Riley come sit on me... and throw the ball at me... and stood around chatting until I was ready to relinquish my fetal position and get up. Ok, skip to the next week... another scrimmage, but I couldn't play because of my aforementioned injury. Stupid ankle.
So, there was this new player on the other team... short, scruffy, dark hair, green shirt that said something about Ireland. He also had on boxers with shamrocks. I'm guessing he was Irish (ok, quit thinking dirty - I saw the boxers when he changed from his shorts to his jeans after the game... everyone does it. Jeesh). Anyways, he was playing keeper... somewhat aggressively. My sis dribbled into the box between a couple defenders and... THWACK! He was gone with the ball... The "thwack" sound, by the way, was his foot hitting her ankle as he took the ball. And, an "ouch!" came from my sister. My sister doesn't say "ouch". Grr. Skip to later in the game... my sister has a breakaway, all alone - she has a wide open goal, the keeper starts towards her to make the angles smaller... she shoots, she - well, he goes down, grabbing at his crotch. Meanwhile, I do a VERY small dance on the sideline and yes I am proud of myself because I said NOTHING and didn't even let him see me gloat when he staggered off the field. The rest of the game was uneventful. Good.
The next week... I still couldn't play (BLAH! Ok, lovehandles are starting to pop up! Get this over with, already!), but this week was a real leaugue game and we had a ref. I don't remember too much of the game because I was chasing Riley round and round the field, but I could tell that tempers were barely under control... the ref wasn't calling very many of the fouls... so, I try to feed Riley some cheese and keep him from running around with a chunk of cheese in his mouth when I hear a huge CRACK! and I look onto the field... and my heart drops to my stomach. It's my sister, on the ground in the box, and the keeper, standing of to one side. And she's crying. SHE... DOES... NOT... CRY!!! I was twenty feet away from her when she went up for a header and instead of getting the ball, she got her opponent's head... broke her nose... and we found out a few weeks later that she crushed part of her skull just above her eye, too. No cry. It was a few hours before we even went to the hospital, and NO TEARS. She was just quiet. Well, here, now, on the field, she was crying. She was in pain. She was holding her stomach, knee, rolling on the ground, sobbing. And I was angry. I didn't know what happened, I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt... but just the week before he had kicked her, hard. A foul, NOT an accident. Now, my sister couldn't stop crying. My sister does not cry. And... I look down and Riley ran off... so I chase after him... and try to distract myself with him. But... man... so ANGRY. And my sister is still out there, howling in pain. And the keeper is talking to his friends like nothing happened. Lucky... lucky... saved by the cute nephew. Well, my hand was red and numb... somewhere during that time I had hit the plexiglass window... quite hard.
Hmm... lucky... anything to do with being Irish? Well, if I am able to play the next time we play that team... I hope I come out less hurt than him, but I dunno... this wierd thing happens where I stop thinking, and just act... my vision had kinda gone funny, too - black/red around the edges. And all I wanted was an excuse to jump over that wall and onto the field... but see, I had no proof that he had fouled her, I just saw the aftermath. *Sigh* Keep me away from short scruffy Irish boys.
My nephew
My nephew is a heartbreaker (or, he will be!) and is about... .... (counting fingers...)... 16 months old. He's a bright kid - always happy, loves the drums, learning sign language and is developing some speech - he can say "banananana" and "toast", and "aun suuuuuu" and "unc t" (for uncle topher) and "i Luuu-ooo" and "touchdow" and "ayler" for kailer, my dog, uhm... oh he's good at "apple" and I think his first word was "owl", he says it as two syllables "ah-wal"... as for signing, he can show us butterfly, an ineligible man down field (football), please, more, thank you, all done, holding (football), time out (football, again... looks a lot like sign for "Jesus" hahaha cuz he uses one finger into his palm)... ok thats enough bragging about my nephew hahaha. Oh one more.... "noodle-oodle-oodle".... hehehe. I love his little person voice! "What!?" was a funny one that he started, and he actually said "where ayler?" a few times to my mom. A whole sentence!!! OK, really thats enough. OK, one more... whenever he sees a camera he says "cheese!" and scrunches his face up in a toothy but squinty grin. He does it if you hold a cell phone up, too! He doesn't get that not all cell phones are camera phones, though, which is the best part :)
monday night football
yer wondering why i said monday night football, when its not even football season - yes?
So, I've been working on my "me" list and trying to figure out what it means. Basically, my "me" list is a list of things that I like without influence from others. I do this because I like to be a chameleon, adapting to what other people like - and I'm getting tired of it. And so, since i accidently deleted it off my phone, I will put my list RIGHT HERE... and maybe some group help with what it all means?
I like gray, and brown. Earthtones. Those are probably my favorite colors. Does that mean I'm drab and boring? Or maybe it means I'm simple. *snickers*
Reading. I love getting lost in books. I'm antisocial, thats all there is to it.
Sci/fi and fantasy. Yeah I'm not only antisocial, I'm a nerd!
Not having to travel outside to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. I'm holding it till morning.
Taking my aggression out during soccer. Halleluia!
Feeling pretty. I think thats normal.
Playing bass. Well, not just playing bass. Worshiping God through my instrument.
I will have to build on this... I know there was more. But I changed my cell phone language to french for a challenge and I deleted ALL my messages instead of just my read messages. oops.
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