I'm an Eponine; Just Deal with It

The sign itself was seen in a graveyard in a movie, but it really is true most days.

"Denton: Home of Happiness" it read. Four little words that mean a lot to many of us here, in a town really called Denton.

These days, I feel more sad, lonely, and left out than anything. I can't really explain it- or any of my other feelings really- because like the Facebook meme says, I don't really know what's going on myself.

I just feel lost I think. I don't really know who to turn to. I mean, the people I would have haven't responded to Facebook messages. Yay for feeling ignored.

Tonight I went out to see some friends play music at a coffeehouse here in town. Denton has lots of places like that. I couldn't help but feel a part of my crazy, eccentric, little town. It really is a fun place to live and the only place that's felt like home to me for the better part of the last couple of decades (actually, just about 20 years ago was when I first visited UNT and knew this is where I belonged; 1995 I think it was).

That feeling let me know there was life beyond my crappy job. It would be alright if it wasn't for that person. We've all had people like her. She's nice to just your face. She's always late. I actually know she makes fun of me behind my back and doesn't like me. I really just need to get away from the negativity.

Work also says they won't work with my school schedule; which is a lie. I only work part-time. So why can't they work around my school schedule? Apparently I needed to "ask for permission" to attend school. Really?! Why? I mean, they already say I have to do this just to get another job. Seriously. I have to ask for permission to get a second job. I'm an adult and they're treating me like a kid. They could totally work around my schedule, they just don't want to because I already ask for faire.

So yeah. I really need to leave.

Now stress is starting to get high. Not only do I have to look for money for school, but I need to find a new job. I want to do some sort of crowd funding type thing to help get me started so I have extra time to look for a loan. I'm just scared that no one will help. I mean, this week it's been nothing but avoided Facebook messages. I feel like no matter how hard I try or how big I yell, I'm not going to get noticed. I feel really out of place.

Like I said, I feel lost.

I need a miracle.

Time for Scooby-Doo. Time to cry since I realize it was stupid to think they'd come. Thanks for not responding. You're part of why I'm crying.

I tried. Really. I did. I sent messages and invites. But nobody answered. I mean, I know what you're thinking, things will change. I'm here to say they won't because they haven't; they never have. I just really feel like things won't change or get better. Because no matter how positive I try to be and know others have it worse or have worse things going on, my own issues don't get resolved.

I know you're thinking or saying too that maybe I need to change. If I really could or had, do you really think I'd be here writing this? I mean, seriously, I try. Sometimes I just need someone to let me cry and yell and vent. But I'm incapable of asking because I can't find the right words at the right time for the right people without feeling like I'm coming off weird  Or they don't answer their Facebook messages. Or I don't have their phone numbers. And I have to pay for every test that comes in AND goes out. 

I'm an Eponine. Things don't go good. They just go sour.

I'm seriously at that point where I really believe that if I ran away, no would care much less notice.

None of this is written to get attention. This is written because this is how I feel. I don't feel like I can really say stuff to people with out them taking it the wrong way.

Age, Fear, and Other Things

I'm a musical creature. Like a recent Facebook meme says, "if you can't deal with me busting out into song about what we're talking about, you can't be my friend." Or at least something like that. And you can still be my friend. Even if you don't get the song references.

Anywho. For years, different ages have had songs. I know there are those "mythical" ages where big things happen. But, to some extent, people have their own, individual "mythical" ages. Some examples of my age songs are:

"Drinking in L.A." by Bran Van 3000,
What the hell am I doing drinking in L.A. at 26

"Middle Ground" by Mary Chapin Carpenter for my current age,
She's 33 this time around

And the song that's the cause for my big birthday, "Club Cherry Bomb" by John Mellencamp
Seventeen has turned thirty-five

What I mean by "mythical" age is that age that just seems like you're going to have everything figured out. Or maybe it's just some number that you think will be amazing. You may not have things figured out by that age. It could be the suckiest year ever. But maybe things will work out. You never know. For a friend, it was 27. For me, like I said, it's 35. It just always sounded like a lovely age I suppose. I know age really isn't anything but a number that signifies how long you've been lucky enough to be alive.

I turn 35 in just under a year and half. I'm not scared of this age I've looked forward to for years. I'm thinking I should start setting goals for this age. I've already, in a sense, starting heading towards a better life by then.

Fear is something we all deal with. Especially when making a big change or doing something we really want to do. It's always a giant leap and personally, I hate heights. I don't like flying because I'm so far from the ground. To this day, I will never fly on a plane with the numbers 815 or 316 because of Lost.

But today, I did jump off the proverbial cliff and applied to- and was accepted- to massage school.

I'm scared half to death. I'm scared of never finding the bottom. I'm scared of not being able to accomplish the goal at hand. But I suppose that's what jumping is all about; taking that chance just to see where you'll land. As my roommate says about my Faith poppet, "sometimes you just need a little Faith."

And so with faith I go. Because that's about all I've got right now. But faith, like hope, is a good thing.

Cuteness, Trust, and Other Random Ramblings of a Wednesday Afternoon

Today I started ready to go out for the evening. I'm running errands beforehand, so I started getting ready fairly early. Besides, traffic can be a beast.

So, I'm wearing a shirt I don't wear often because I forget about it and don't always think it looks well on me, so I glanced in the full length mirror to see how I looked. I thought, "wow, I look cute."

I don't often feel this way. I grew up feeling that whenever someone said they thought I was pretty or cute they were lying. They were always leaving something off. Like, "you're pretty (but you need to loose weight)." "You'd be prettier if you wore makeup." "You'd be pretty if you wore more girlie clothes." I felt like I was being continuously compared with other girls who were skinner, prettier, smarter.

Weight has always been a "problem" with me. I remember going to doctors when I was little to see about loosing. I got the lines about more exercise from my parents along with bribes. I got told again and again about remembering the summer I lost weight and I should do that again. Or reminded that I've gained weight in the few months I've been home from being away all summer. I didn't get this just in my formative and teen years. I got it well into my 20's and early 30's.

I, like so many, have all those voices in my head telling me that it's not okay to be me. That I'm not pretty and never will be. I had actual voices tell me to not see "those people" because they didn't like me. They didn't think like me so I shouldn't listen to anything people with different beliefs said, even if they were friends. But these were the voices that never stopped to hear what I really had to say in the first place. If they would've listened, they would have realized I wasn't the person they wanted me to be in the first place.

In spring of most likely 2011, I remember standing in the lanes of the High Road at Scarborough Faire telling myself that, as much as I wanted to- or even might want to as this was something I liked doing- I would never audition to become a member of Scarborough Faire. Most know the end of this story. I didn't listen to the voices. Eventually I gave in and tried.

It was hard as it was telling people. I was afraid of what they'd say. I was afraid of them too saying no. But I took the chance anyway. I can honestly say, I'm glad I did. I'm glad I tried and told people and conquered my fears. I found a group that likes me for me. They don't care about my weight or tell me to go exercise. I've gotten to where I enjoy doing certain sports that I never tried before now.

I found a group of people that I enjoy being around. I don't tell them this as much as I should. I don't tell them that several I look at as the brothers I never had but always wanted. I don't tell the person whose parenting skills I admired that I want to grow up and be like her and several other women because my mother was never even close to them and I look to them like a better mother than I'll ever have.

Even though it's been years that I've been here, it's hard for me to trust people or let them in. I'm always afraid of what they'd say. I'm always afraid that they wouldn't like me anymore. A lot of days I feel like the onion nobody wants instead of a parfait; I mean, really, everybody likes parfaits right? It's not that I don't want to trust people, I just haven't gotten to that point where I'll let myself trust people.

I suppose there is really no point to this rather long post, other than just letting a few things out. I need to stop holding things in so much. Off to the races of things to do before I go out this evening.

Wanderlust

A year or so ago, I did one of those meditations to find out my spirit animal. Mine is bear. Over the years since and looking at the years previous, I realize this is rather true. In winter, I feel like staying home. I'm not a fan of driving too late or after dark.

Then, then comes spring.

In spring, I love going out and about. I love driving places, especially if the music is just right. I mean, if the radio keeps playing good songs, I just want to keep driving past my exit and on to Oklahoma.

Spring is when my wanderlust awakens.

I start wanting to drive more at night to pretty much anywhere, though I'm more inclined towards north (I'm around 30 or 40 miles from the border) or west.

I'm the type who often wants to just run away from things (as opposed to other so called "solutions"). Being an adult has more moments of let down and hard times than we ever imagined as kids. "With great power (or age) comes great responsibility." We all go through things we don't share. In those times, I'm more inclined to just want to run away and start over. It's been like this for ages- at least college.

I've decided that, should I ever finally get to go to massage school, I'd like to eventually get certified in several other states; included but not limited to: Louisiana, New Mexico, Colorado, Oregon, California, Maine, and Michigan. I'd like to take sometime and just go. Do as the song from Legally Blonde: the Musical says, "climb in the car and just drive."

This is how I see it. I'd get one of those camper trucks or a small camper that can attach to my car or current vehicle. It would have a bed and kitchen area, TV and DVD player, loads of books, yarn, and stuff to be crafty, etc. Plus, enough room for at least a massage chair. A couple of weeks after faire is over, I'd say bye to everyone for a summer, and just head out. I'd probably have some semblance of direction. I'd stop at places and do massages. Maybe I'd catch ComiCon. Maybe I'd hit Salem in October. I'd find a few places to dance. Maybe I'd go to Arizona and hit the Renaissance Faire there. I'd just earn my way around the place giving massages.

Yay for wanting to live the life of Jack Kerouac.

But, by fall I'd  be back. I'd spend the winter and spring here and maybe do it again the next year.

There are times these days I do just want to start running and going somewhere. To live a little while somewhere else. But, like Timothy Olyphant said in Broken Hearts Club, "something always keeps me here." There's a birthday or a party or faire. But, someday. Someday I will be a massage therapist and I'll travel somewhere and send lots of picture postcards.

Maybe I'll start a new blog.

Or maybe I'll just extend the great lawn of life. I'll become the modern day Steinbeck or William Least-Heat Moon in their books Travels with Charley and Blue Highways. Those are two of my favourites. The latter still has the drum corps schedules from the summer when I read it.

Until then, here I remain. But, that's alright.

Faire starts next week.

Talk, Talk

There are times where I really just want to do like the Green Day song says,

Do you have the time
To listen to me whine
About everything and nothing all at once?

But, instead of whining, I just want to talk to someone- or a small group of someones- about everything and nothing all at once. Yes, there are things I want to talk about and questions that have yet to form from mixed up thoughts that I really want to ask and things I really want to talk about; but right now, I just really want to talk.

One of the biggest things is the people I really want to talk to. I'm afraid of asking. I'm afraid of what they'd think of me. I'm afraid of having nothing whatsoever to say and of being extremely uninteresting.

I'm afraid of getting too close.

I moved several times growing up and just started not getting close to people. What was the point when you'd be gone in nine months. Even letters stopped after awhile.

I'm just in a very odd place right now. I can't seem to be getting through a lot of my own personal barriers from years gone by. I'm afraid of things that may or may not happen. I'm scared of certain people from my life showing up at faire again. I feel like I can't really tell those I know about things because I'm afraid of being judged and what they would say. The things I want to talk about include all of these things and more. But I can't seem to find the words to say, "hey, can we talk?" because it scares me.