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Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Retina A + hormones + a sprinkle of L. Frank Baum = saga of Wicked Witch

So the last week has been brutal and I am beginning to think the universe has it out for me....Seriously I leave my house everyday wondering if a house will fall on top of me....Which would be a terribly fitting end to the person I am....only instead of glittery red heels I rock some awesome ass hot pink pumps.

I have gone mental and not in a cool biopic tortured novelist kind of way....I seem to be crushing from the weight of the world right now and its all I can do from keeping the seams from splitting and everything to come out in a horrible gush of random discombobulated thoughts and feelings....

From my writer's block to the nagging itch of creative consciousness that is spewing out ideas that I have neither the patience nor budget to keep up with....from personal goals of unattainable svelte figures and small business to paintings to photos to stories with no endings or proper character development to aching longing of a life I never realized further complicated by the one I so vehemently denied and the one I fill space in now. 

If that isn't enough to send someone into a catatonic state or at the least render you stupid then you all have more will power than I have that is for sure. Fact is I want more than anything to find a job that pays the bills well enough to afford me the time to write and not just for pleasure or diarying my pathetic life out because it makes me comforted by the thought that its out there. Let's face it. I do this solely now to feel as if I exist, to know someone is listening, to know that someone somewhere cares. And I want more. I want to have people listen to my words and HEAR them with their minds and souls. I want someone out there to have a visceral reaction. I want someone out there to validate my self worth my letting me know how truly righteously creative a mind I have. I don't want to fade away as some half ass hack who had a ounce of talent and squandered it on a lifeless ordinary. 

But then it makes me a right bitch and cunt to think for one second the life I am living is anything less. Its more than ordinary and if it wasn't I wouldn't be writing this now because I would be too mundane too stupid too fucking ignorant to see the difference.

I guess today this blog is going to be a little meglomaniacish and completely egocentric because I am in that type of mood. The fruit of my womb seem to be doing a OK, so its mommy's turn to have a moment. The kind of moment where I need to have a complete rant or reminisce about things.

I could try and lie and say its needed self reflection, but I don't know exactly what it is I want to reflect on, so let's just take a trip in a time machine and see where it leads us.

All the way back to 1996-the year my parents divorce was final and 2 years following my cousin's suicide.

So let's start out by discussing a pimply greasy faced 7th grader with hunched shoulders trying so desperately to escape the shit life at home and the taunting of blonde, skinny self righteous bitches at school.  Who deep down hoped, prayed, cried for a life so much better than the one she thought she was living.  Now this girl befriended another girl who suffered from the same bullshit junior high politics and together they found solace in knowing that someday they would have the last laugh.   That someday the tables would turn and their clothes wouldn't end up getting stolen during gym class or their bra straps snapped as they sit in class.   Two years of a slow hell was speckled with the most amazingly funny moments, sleepovers, roamings of our local mall and then they were thrust into high school. For one tiny nanosecond there was hope at the end of the tunnel because everyone was an incoming freshman that they were ALL fresh meat, but alas it slowly darkened when they realized it was even worse when you had older more schooled predators with more vicious antics.  Maybe this is an exaggeration, but not too far off.  With high school came new teachers, new pressures, new faces and new humiliation. In the form of that one unrequited crush who with a straight face informs her she should stick to dating people of her own social class. Stick to dating people on her level. And in her mind this equated her fat ass and she set out to starve herself down to a zero only to be rebuffed yet again.  Then the girl's heart was truly broken when the time came for the second girl to move clear across the country, and an aching hole was left in the young girl's heart, and it took everything she had not to burn the whole fucking school down. 

Instead she chose to harden her heart, and rip it straight out of her chest, leaving a gaping hole that no one, nothing could fill, and she liked it that way. The freedom to be void of feeling, to be void of anything because it was easier than having the responsibility of giving a shit to only be knocked down over and over. To be disappointed, to be ashamed of everything she wasn't and horrified by everything she was.  Well, that was way too much heavy shit to lift, so she stuck to coasting through school, and getting the endless stream of criticism from counselors and AP teachers, all the while becoming a human garbage disposal for anything she could get her hands on in the way of drugs. She lingered long enough to make her presence forgettable and then due to a number of bad choices stemming from a number of bad days she ended up graduating without her peers in a school a 100 miles away in a city where no one knew her name. And the funniest part is that stupid bitch two days after graduation packed her car and hightailed it back to the same town she wanted to drop a nuclear bomb on. And so it was the rest is history.

Well that was well over 16 years ago when this tale started, and that pimply faced greasy 7th grader is still trapped in my fucking mind. She still lingers inside gnawing away at my innards for lunch, squirming and wondering if she is ever good enough. I feel it every time I look in the mirror, every time I pinch the fat on my thighs, every time I look at my kids and wonder if I am doing everything I can to be a good mom. With every word that comes out of my mouth I cannot snatch back and every word I write on paper, bleeding through, wondering it its ever enough.

And then I slap that silly little whiny cunt back into check because who doesn't feel the same way? Or at the very least who remembers and holds onto that shit? What about that boy all those years ago who looked down his nose at her? Does he even know who the fuck she is now? Probably not. And that girl who moved so far away is just a plane ride away, the one friend who held on so tightly, fiercely when all others slipped away. Something tells me she isn't dwelling on the past, and she is here because she wants the now, the present of what life has.

Why do you ask am I even worrying about this stuff? Well that little spoiled pathetic self loathing girl has reared her ugly head and is slowly trying to make her way this because I have had a horrible time at work lately with people who act like petty teenagers? Or is it because I am having a post 30 crisis and wondering what the hell happened to me that I worry what others think?

There is this saying that the age you first smoke pot at is the age you stay at. Thus your maturity level is indicative of your first attempt to regress or stunt this said maturity. That being said I should be a 17 year old perpetually-which I would give anything to fit into the jeans I did at 17.

lol. All joking aside, I think about this now because I wonder if this has something to do with my strange digression into memory lane, the paths twisting and turning, but never crossing. I am not blind to the fact I have so much to be thankful for. And the list will never stop, but sometimes its surreal,  words that get lost in an echo down some far off hallway, trying to explain, stumbling, and bumbling how I wish I knew what I was. that I wish I knew where I was going and where I had been. I wish I knew what the world had in store for me beyond this.

I know one thing is for sure. I have been trying my damnedest to find out these last few weeks. And all I can equate myself to is some bitch who carried a broom, and got her life snuffed out by some perky breasted chick with a lapdog and no GPS. And she stole my damn shoes as well. And still had 3 dudes following her around everywhere she went.

High school all over again.

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