The Golden Boy

What's it like? What's it like to be spoiled rotten? Some people may think my life was something to be fancied. Yeah, we lived in a nice house. So what, I had a pony. Maybe we had the RV's and the houseboat and the speed boat and the jet skis. Possibly you heard we traveled around the country for weeks at a time. Okay, I admit, we lived WELL.

But no.

My bitterness and jealousy can be checked by NO ONE.

I don't even think I can name the WORK I did. Everything from pouring cement to digging ditches. Juicing 75 lb bags of carrots for an ailing mother dying of a brain tumor (she lived) to caring for a baby that wasn't mine. (15 yrs my junior brother) From delivering firewood to painting fences. Removing wallpaper to raking up the the fallen leaves of nearly TWO HUNDRED trees. There was no mercy. There was no cable. There was no prom, no music, no football games. I was denied after school participation in Forensics. (Not dead bodies, but debate! NERD STUFF!) Denied when I was IN school that is. I gave up my freshmen and senior year to home studies so I could serve the needs of my family. Oh and do not doubt for a second... through all of that, I brought home straight A's. I worked part time caring for my ailing grandparents. Did everything I could to prove myself a good and worthy person.

Then enter THE GOLDEN BOY. That sweet curly headed boy. The boy who does whatever the fuck he wants to and gets rewarded for simply existing. He's brought home bad grades. He's had some "incidents" with the law. He's fully enveloped in teenage angst and apathy. Yet, he's the GOLDEN BOY.

I want good for him. Hell, I want the BEST for him. BUT some days I think he needs to fucking earn it. Pay his dues like I PAID. I don't know why I fight for him. Mom says it's because I'm fighting for myself. She's probably right.

Drive a brand new car? Live in the city in a mansion across the street from the school and your after school robotics program? Have a cell phone? Get a brand new iPod touch? Take out of town trips with the school? Play your video games and have your friends over? I die a little inside every time I hear about it.

Do you know I got yelled out for reading too much? For always having my nose buried in a book and not watching where we were driving? I begged to go to school on time even when it was foggy day schedule! I ditched class to go to OTHER classes!

REALLY? Yeah, really.

Carry on with your bad self, but steer clear of me. My vitriol and jealousy knows no bounds.

So how old does this make me? 50? 60?

I received an iTunes gift card for Christmas. I get them from time to time and I just keep the credits online so I can buy what I want (music/iPhone apps/etc) whenever the mood hits me. (Anything Apple or for the kitchen is a surefire way to win my heart BTW)

So what hits me yesterday? MUSIC - I want a new CD. And what do I wind up buying? The Best of Sade, of course. I guess she has a new album coming out and I can't wait for that, but OMG I AM MY MOTHER!!  She was always rockin' Sade. That and DeBarge. Enough for me to exclaim when I was 5 that I HATED music and that I would NEVER own a radio! (Pretty sure my mom played RECORDS!!! and there was no such thing as a CD yet so radio was where it was at maaan... HA HA)

I'm LOVING listening to my new CD now, but there's a little voice inside telling me this is, in fact, the final sign of the times. Forget all those earthquakes in one place after another - god is speaking to us all. Be forewarned!

Oh yeah, and I made and ate a really good sandwich the other day. MMMM

Failed Apology or New Beginning?

So, I've been vague lately and truth be told I'm ALL OF THE ABOVE. I'm tired, sure, conflicted, energized, and confused all at once.

If you are new here, back story is this:
• In December I wrote THIS about my biological father.
• In May he reminded me that some things never change when I took THIS phone call.
• In July my story was told at ViolenceUnsilenced.com and I felt like I finally had my answer.

Then last week he called and wanted me to go to lunch with him. I avoided... He was sarcastic with me about avoiding him and I decided it was time to tell him what was really going on... I told him... told him how I felt... told him why I didn't want to see him... Told him in explicit painstaking detail the who what where when and why and it didn't even phase him... A normal person would have been brought to their knees and yet HE MADE EXCUSES.

You see, what I don't understand is what it's like to be a parent and be concerned for your child (I don't have to understand shit)
You see, he's a good person, a follower of christ (Don't play on my people pleasing fault and DO NOT MAKE THIS ABOUT THE BIBLE... PLEASE)
You see, the bible says no one is perfect (Last time I checked NO ONE was perfect but had never spoken to me, treated me, or hurt me like he has)
You see, he feels like I've always been embarrassed of him and thought he was stupid and that I WAS AN INTELLECTUAL and better than him (Do NOT capitalize on my guilt for finally deciding to fight for myself to protect myself)
You see, I've incorrectly built up a wall that he just doesn't know what to do about. (Ummm, fucking duh...)
You see, he's just gonna "put the ball in my court" if I want to see him again.
And I made my peace... Peace that I made the right decision because I finally spoke my truth and gave him the chance to hear and he chose not to.

AND THEN TODAY... These came:


What the hell am I supposed to do with THAT?

My mom says to revel in the moment, but that I'm under no obligation to do anything but smell the roses.
My friend says to appreciate the nice gesture.
My gut says that you can't have a new beginning without an apology for the past FIRST.
My heart says it hurts and I cried.
My mind wished he would've just stayed an asshole so the decision to keep him out of my life would be an easy one.

Now what do I do? Call? Be willing to pursue a relationship? UGH, I'm at my limit. MY LIMIT. THE EDGE...

So miss wonderful universe... my precious mother earth... what say you now? I am officially a lost soul desperately looking for an answer that no one can give.

Violence Unsilenced

I don't know if it's incredibly scary or really really brave, but I did something out of character.

I took a subject which (until the end of the year) I had never spoken about and not only published it on my blog, but submitted it to Violence Unsilenced. This was months ago though and I had completely forgotten about it until yesterday when I received an email saying it was my turn to have my story featured. You can go there and read it if you want to.

This all started after I had some very intense and surprising internal reactions to writing this post. Not because I was in denial about it, but because writing it all down at one time, in one place, made it so plain to see that it was something serious. All these years I had brushed it off as not being anything to worry about. Perhaps the individual memories weren't noteworthy, but together they had weight... they were heavy... and WHILE SCARY or possibly really really brave, saying something was the turning point for me!

Blogging and putting yourself out there in a public forum is difficult. You run the risk of people misinterpreting what you say... Of people who don't know you (and actually people who DO know you) judging you... This is my worst fear and yet strangely blogging/writing is SO SO cathartic for me. I take all these heavy thoughts and burdens and I release them to the universe. Plus, for me, I find my biggest motivation in life is to connect and share with others. I probably go about it a bit passive aggressive by blogging, being all quasi anonymous and all... but oh well.

I know what my intention is. I try SO very hard to be the best I can be. To be kind. To be thoughtful. To know I DON'T KNOW the fully story of those that I encounter. To treat others how I want to be treated. Ultimately you can't please everyone, but I keep putting it out there anyways. Sometimes you just gotta take a chance, ya know?

Good times were had by all...

Okay, no no - that was a lie. See, I'm a great marketer. I lured you in with a catchy jingle and promises of whoozits whatsit, but the product was of poor quality and misrepresented. OOOPS! So maybe that title was a bit misleading, but no takesies backsies... You're here and now you have to read about it!

I guess, first, I'd like to say it started out really really shitty. If anyone has deduced that I may not be a morning person, it won't really earn you anything because everyone on earth should know that. However, when my phone rang at 7:30am I knew something was wrong. I clamored out of the shower only to see my real dads number on the caller ID. Sigh.
I shouldn't answer...
But maybe it's important...
If it's important he'll leave a message...
For gods sake, how old are you anyways? Just answer the phone.

ME: Hello?
HIM: (Funny voice) Yes, this is the *company I work for* corporate office. We're sorry to inform you that we're going through another round of layoffs and unfortunately we're not going to be needing your services anymore... So luckily for you, you can go ahead and go back to bed.
ME: .........
HIM: hahahahahahahahahahaha

Am I the only one who thinks that is just about the shittiest most fucked up way to ask your daughter to lunch because you are going to be in town? What an asshole. There were two other jokes, one involving him leaving his debts and responsibilities to me should something happen during surgery and a follow up call pretending to be the doctor letting me know my father had passed away.

UMMMMMMMM?????? WHAT?!

I should mention that during the ENTIRE delivery of the aforementioned jokes, I continuously repeated "This is not funny, I don't think this is funny, this is not funny, please stop I don't find this even remotely funny" to which he finished and laughed heartily anyways.

I am ashamed that this is a part of me. I am also hurt. I am also so confused. Without the droning on of the poor me's and the is this normals... I'll just stop. No one wants to read all the drivel.

Everyone has their demons. Their hauntings. The shadow that follows them wherever they go.

Talkin' about Tower

Alright people - this is for all my Fresno peeps...

I read a lot of elitist snobby things on my twitter stream and even in my own blog comments about how you hate the north side and only love Tower... GAWD you people love the fucking Tower district. You all make it seem like I've never been there, but I got news for you, I'm older than half of you and have been going there since some of you were in junior high!

Yes, I live in north Fresno at Woodward Lakes, but that doesn't mean I only hang out here. I just write this blog reppin' the north side because I want you to know we have cool stuff too!

GASP, you mean you can get quaint and culture north of Herndon and not everything is plastic Stepford Wives and single occupied gas guzzing SUV's? Yup, that's right! WE ARE SLAYING GEOGRAPHICAL STEREOTYPES HERE AT It's worth recording... !!!

So, here are some things you may not know about me and my Tower district history:

•I met my (now ex) husband on the patio of the Java Cafe in 1996.
•I bought my 1st pair of steel-toed 20 eyelet Grinders from Valentino's in 1997
•I got my tongue pierced from Jerry at Spears of Shiva all by myself when they were still on the North side of Olive in late 1997/early 1998.

What else do you want to know about? I've done the drinks and appetizers at Livingstones, pool and drinks and pizza at Avalon (Now Babylon), dancing in the streets at mardi gras, the patio at Veni's, the dining at Palomino's and Rousseaus and everywhere, the New Years parties and open mics and poetry jams at Starline, the lunch at Peimonte's, and everything else you can think of.

SO FRESNO PEOPLE... What do you want from me? To listen to local bands at Bobby Salazars? Have lunch at Irene's? Watch a show at Roger Rocka's? Buy something at Retro Rags? OH WAIT, I've done that TOO!

So, this may seem like a bit of an aggressive blog, but I just hate the patronizing "You should come to tower" comments. Like that's the only place that privately owned businesses can operate. Like that's the only place you can walk on the streets or find unique purchases or see a good show. Like only places south of Shaw offer good service - wrong! Wrong! WRONG!

So thanks for letting me say my peace. I hope this post helps us all come together and roam this town with wild abandon. LET'S TEAR THE WALLS DOWN!! I hope to see you out there!

For no other reason than because I can...

Well Ladies, This one is for you. WHO DOESN'T LOVE MARK WAHLBERG?

I don't think too many words are necessary here, so I'll just step out and leave you two a little alone time!

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words...

Right now, this is my FAVORITE PHOTO!



Check me out! May 1985 - I was 6 years old. Apparently I was ALWAYS a bomb ass cook! Look at my face - you can see the confidence in my face. I still make that face.

Cooking is a hobby of mine and when I came across this picture, I fell in love with it all over again and just had to share.

My life on the road - From the beginning!

(This is something I'm posting for a work RV Blog I just started... Thought's I'd share)

There have been plenty of good times in my life and as I sit here and reflect, there was always an RV involved somehow.

Even in the EARLY 80's we cruised around this country in swanky orange and brown fashion circa 1979 - in a 1979 Titan motorhome that is!

We fell in love with its dark brown booth dinette that folded into a bed (Which cushions - to my moms chagrin - we used to steal, put vinyl side down, and sled down the stairs with at our first home) and it's cumbersome roman shades and strange dutch-doored bathroom.

I can recall with surprising detail a rich history of friends, family, tradition, bonding, and overall happiness - all thanks to life on the road.

In the early 90's, my parents upgraded to a 1989 Winnebago Elandan 38' MHA. We left the rich browns and oranges of the 70's and soothed ourselves in the blues and pinks of the 80's. We caravaned with our friends, we boated on the Colorado river, we rode roller coasters at Six Flags, we rode our bikes through Lake Almanor until we couldn't even feel our legs anymore, and it was awesome. (Actually, note the picture below where I broke my leg on above said bike, but we were so dedicated to vacation we stayed...)

Life was an adventure all thanks to our motorhome!

There was no such thing as a slide-out in those days, which leaves me baffled as to how 2 parents, 3 teenagers (me, my brother, and sister) and 1 infant (15 years our junior, little brother) made it across this expansive country in essentially a giant hallway without killing each other! Actually, you know how we did it? My dad would gear up for the drive and our littlest brother would snack and nap, and we would do what you do in an RV- ANYTHING YOU WANTED TO!

We pretended we were surfing...
We played cards at the booth dinette...
We watched movies on the back bed (Yes, all 4 of us at once!)...
We listened to our CD players (This was before iPods!)...
We clamored at the window to take pictures of the buffalo blocking the road in Yellowstone...
We sang, we tried to get truckers to honk as they passed us, we ate more candy than should be legal, we microwaved and ate hundreds of chicken chimichangas from Costco... and we really truly LIVED...!

We stopped at strange things we saw along the road...
We read books and journaled our stops and compared the different pins and patches and stickers we had purchased...
We tasted crisp clean air as we took pictures of Lake Louise in Banff...
We giggled uncontrollably as we exchanged our allowances for Canadian money...
We ate the best ice cream EVER at an RV park in Montana...
We shopped until we literally dropped at the 4 story mall in Vancouver...
We plotted and planned our attack on Las Vegas and the Grand Canyon and Zion...

And I can't imagine my life if any one of those memories were missing.

Since then, my parents have upgraded to a 1999 Newmar Dutchstar with 1 slide! I'm 30 years old and you know what I enjoy? RVing... My older brother and sister have married and moved away, but that doesn't deter me one bit. Just recently, I called my mom and dad and little brother (Who is now taller than me!) and said "I want to go on an RV trip!" They eagerly obliged and just 2 months ago we set off over Thanksgiving vacation for Las Vegas! This time we brought the dogs and the adventure started again!



I read books, we watched movies, we had in motion satellite and internet, I worked on my laptop, and I realized that life is just SO SO good.

It's no mere coincidence I found my true calling in the RV industry. Thirteen years and three days later and I still get fulfillment and excitement from these homes away from home. If I could only explain to you, dear reader, that no matter what the cost or the maintenance or storage or the EXCUSES we tell ourselves - how WORTH IT RV ownership is, my life would be complete.

My past has always involved an RV and you can bet your bottom dollar my future plans involve one too! See you out there... on the road again...!

Binge and Purge...

Well, it's a binge of information for YOU and a purge of years of insanity for me. I want to write about something I never ever write about or speak about for that matter.

My real father.

I suppose the only real way is to go back to the very beginning.

I could hear them arguing again. That's all they did. I was probably 6. My bedroom was right next to theirs so I had to be stealthy. I took all my stuffed animals and most prized possessions and stuffed them into my Garfield sleeping bag. I packed up my parakeet and it's cage. I carefully misspelled every word on my note that told them I was leaving until they could stop yelling. I headed out towards the pasture. I hadn't quite worked out how I could carry a bird cage in one hand, a FULL sleeping bag in the other, and still ride my pony to grandmas house, but apparently the note slipped under the door alerted them to my plans and they stopped fighting for the night.

I never EVER faulted my mom for asking for a divorce. Even at 7 I'd say it was the best day of my life. Not that I understood anything, but I did know the yelling would stop. At 7 you still think everything is your fault and you still trust your daddy even if he's an asshole. After they separated, once he came to the door and I answered. Mom was outside (We lived in the country) and he said he wanted to come in. I innocently didn't know any better. He used me to get in the house and while telling me "daddy loves you" type things, he stole a spare key off the fireplace mantle. He used that key to come back to the house when we were gone and rob the house. My mom had always been a stay at home mom and we had no money. She often went without food so that I could eat. He used me and I thought it was my fault because I let him in the house.

Before visitation had been settled he once came to the house demanding to see his daughter. He had been drinking. I was in the bathtub. He kicked the door in. He pushed my mom down and beat her with a frying pan. He ripped all the phone cords out of the walls. I ran in the spare office, locked the door, and called 911. He ran away before they got there. For YEARS I felt guilt over calling the police on my own father. I thought it was all my fault because he just wanted to see me.

When he got his own apartment in town, he always said my mom tried to keep him from me. She never EVER let me miss a weekend. She actually forced me to go. He had no furniture and 2 yellow striped twin mattresses laid on the ground in 1 bedroom. He would force me to sleep in the room with him, but I didn't get to sleep. He would keep me up all night telling me all the awful things he thought about my mother. What a bitch and whore she was even though she was neither of those things. I will not forgive him for stealing my innocence. For doing everything textbook wrong. He put all of his adult problems on my small shoulders and I carried those for years.

When I was 12 I wrote the courts and was granted permission to make my own decisions regarding visitation. My parents (my mom and step-dad) still made me go so that he could never complain. My dad moved to a town about 30 minutes away. Since my visitation was on the weekends, it really cramped his social life. He would go to the bars downtown and lock me in the car until closing time. It wasn't the best art of town. I've never been so scared. I felt bad for being a burden to him.

(As a side note you should know my father is an alcoholic and also a paint sniffer. Ok, well kinda. He owns a body shop and does custom paint and body work along with specializing in firetrucks, school buses, planes, and diesel trucks. He used to brag that he didn't need to wear a mask. That's called getting high in my book. I'm sure he's just "not quite right" because of that.)

He often antagonized my fears. He openly mocked me for being afraid to fly for the 1st time. After my family was in a debilitating car wreck (My step-dad broke his neck, my mom dislocated her hip and was in a hospital bed for months, and I broke my back) my real father and I went to Carmel for a weekend. I was probably 16? He took the scenic route back and told me it was time to face my fears. He proceeded to cross over the yellow line and drive on the wrong side of the road. Turn after turn on that winding mountain road I screamed and I cried and begged for him to not do this. He called me weak and said I needed to get over it. I finally hit him and yanked the wheel. RIGHT then a diesel truck came around the corner and we skidded off the road, barely avoiding the mountain. He cried like a bitch at our near death experience and I'll never forgive him for that.

Sometimes he would hit me with an opened up wire hanger. I don't even remember why, but he was often physical like that. When I cried he would tickle me. I'm EXTREMELY ticklish and even though it's painful it makes me laugh. Even though I was crying, he would say "See, you're laughing, quit being a baby, everything is fine" To this day, I don't allow people to tickle me. 1/2 way through I always freak out and feel like I'm being manipulated.

During my summers I would stay at his house. He admitted he never wanted a girl. I had to sleep on the floor and get up at the crack of dawn. To wake me up, he would shove me with his foot and them make me fix breakfast for him. Then I would go to work painting and sanding at the body shop. On my breaks he wanted me to go back to the house and bake cookies for him and his workers. It was a weird mix between having to be the boy he always wanted, but needing to know my role as the good little woman. I hated it.

Although he RENTED a 700 square foot apartment that literally used to be a cow barn, when I got my first apartment, he came to my house and white gloved the entire thing. I'll never forget what started out as pride in establishing myself and ended in humiliating disappointment and failure.

When I announced my engagement he DEMANDED to be the one to walk me down the isle. I had asked my (step)DAD. My father made such a stink, my dad stepped aside and said, let him walk you. I told my father, I don't want you to touch me and there will be NO kissing on the cheek. He showed up early, tapped the keg, got wasted, drug me down the isle with such a tight grip on my arm I had bruises on my inner arm and you should see the look on my face in the picture where he's kissing me on the cheek. Fucking drunk asshole.

When I was divorced and disfellowshipped, the BEST thing that ever came from that exile was him not being allowed to talk to me. He would still call. He asked me if I had "fallen to drugs?" (No dad, sorry, my life's quota for drunk paint sniffing losers has already been met) Did I have an STD yet? I don't even know what to say about that one. I'm in the middle of a divorce, I just had to sell my newly built house, my ex kept the dogs and even the bread maker, and none of my friends or family are allowed to speak to me and I AM TRULY at my most vulnerable and alone and you call with your reassuring words that I'm a whore? Fuck you... F.U.C.K. Y.O.U.!

Time and time and time and time again, I told myself Marisa, that is your father. You have to love him. What sort of horrible person are you to not be a part of his life? I subjected myself to insults about my looks, my hair, my weight, my friends, and my home and I took it and I went back for more so that he could never fault me for denying him his right to be my father. There were moments where I thought he had changed. We would have a nice dinner, a lucid (and possibly) sober conversation, and I would immediately default to the THE GLASS IS HALF FULL mentality and think it would be different, he would be better... In between everything I've typed I thought that. I doubted myself. I gave him a million chances. But I can't do it anymore. I have always had trouble setting boundaries. I have always doubted myself. I didn't want anyone to think I was mean or wrong or bad. He loves me so much he says. He misses me he says. He wants me to be a part of his life he says.

After my reinstatement (He remarried about 10 years ago) he and his wife invited me over for dinner. I begrudgingly went and I fell right back into the same trap. He looked old. He looked sad. I experienced INTENSE guilt over my own bitterness and negative feelings towards him. Maybe he's different now..? I shouldn't feel like I do. I wouldn't want someone to feel about me the way I feel about him. I should make more of an effort...

NO.

And you know what's sick? As I re-read this, I keep thinking I shouldn't post this. What if he reads this? His feelings would be so hurt! I'm doubting again as I type this.

NO.

Sorry dad - I can't do it anymore. My life has to be on my terms now. I have to protect myself and my sanity. Do it to me once, shame on you, do it to me twice (or a thousand times) and it's a shame on ME...

I've now written the longest blog ever documenting a LIFETIME of mental, emotional, and physical abuse that cannot and should not be forgotten OR forgiven.

Memories...

So I popped onto Amazon.com today to purchase something and saw the "Daily Deals" button or whatever specials they have. Just guess what was on sale?



I know! Dr Quinn - Medicine Woman. I used to LOVE that show. I used to work taking care of my grandparents back in like 1996... They had tons of health problems and my experiences there I should write about soon. If you've never wrestled your pill poppin, oseteoporosis riddled, emphysema oxygen tube wearing grandma down off a kitchen chair to stop her from trying to find the alcohol so she can make herself a "highball" then you haven't lived, that's for sure! (RIP grandma...)

Anyways, my grandpa couldn't really say much other than "chicken" and "egg" after his heart attack and many salt induced strokes (RIP grandma) but boy did he LOVE watching Dr Quinn - at FULL volume mind you - AS IN... concert quality - hello officer - go take another valium grandma, FULL volume... and it was awesome.

Every day I'd come home from my college classes, and grandpa would yell - Where's the girl? (That's me) I wanna watch the chicken! (That's Dr Quinn) and grandma would yell - "God Dammit LLOYD - Turn that down!" and everything would be right in my world.

I remember it like yesterday and I remember it fondly. :)

Slow Ride...

Well, I tried to convince my brother last night that the song Slow Ride by Foghat was a good song. I don’t think he got it AT ALL! He’s so rigid! I played every type of song known to man and not one made him bob his head or even crack a smile. And I rocked out, danced, laughed... NOTHING! At one point, I turned around and he had his iPod earphones in!! THE NERVE!

Overall though, I had a good time HA HA so that’s all that matters I guess!

I was SO locked into what I thought good music was at that age, I was not open to any advice. But with over 4,000 songs on my iPod now I think I made up for the year I only listened to Michael Jackson, En Vogue, and Mariah Carey. LOL That was a LONG time ago!

I just really love music. I love all the feelings it can give you. I love the memories. Don’t you just hear a song and suddenly your mind takes you on the most magical journey to a setting, the people, the smells, the back drop to what you were doing last time you heard that?

It was “Sweetest Perfection” by Depeche Mode. Harmony and I were in the front seat of her car. We had Mt Dew slushies from the Texaco on Shaw/Armstrong. And we were singing. Singing to our slushies. (Listen to the lyrics of that song. We really loved Mt Dew) Sun was out, windows down, a truly PERFECT DAY!

It was “Killing in the Name” by Rage Against the Machine. I was 18, home alone for a week at my parents house. I was standing at my vanity doing my hair, music as loud as it could go. Isaacs green duffle bag of CD’s was on the ground. Circle Jerks, Janes Addiction, Sonic Youth, and Music up as loud as it would go...
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me!
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me!
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me!
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me!
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me!
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me!
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me!
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me!
Motherf***er!
Uggh!
(Ok, so I had some pent up aggression... but I remember it like yesterday!)

It was “Stone the Crow” by Down. San Francisco, me and Richie. Last song of the night. I had gone into the pit alone but that’s OUR SONG and Bam! out of nowhere he appeared beside me. The crowd, the excitement, the crescendo, the crushing surge of energy from side to side as people scream and kick and crawl over top.

It was “Dunkie Butt” by 12 Gauge. On a ranch in Wildwood, Georgia. 76 other people from 18 - 80 in the room that I’ve never met before and a $100,000 sound system and we’d all drank WAAY too much of that Sweet Tea. Drum sticks in hand with only a few rules. You have to be happy, you have to dance, and you can hit ANYTHING except each other. No sleep in 3 days and we were up on the tables dancing, going crazy... I still have those broken drum sticks. LOL

Name any song, I probably have a story to go along with it. ☺ Ok that’s my blog for the day. Hope you don’t think it’s too lame.

Yeah...

It’s cold. I hate the cold. I’m cold during the summer so you can imagine how cold I am right now. I’m always cold. I wasn’t meant to be climatically comfortable. It’s the universe giving me the middle finger is what it is. I need to bring a blanket with me to work. I’m an electric blanket junkie. Sigh.

Woke up again last night at 2:20am. UGH UGH UGH! Then HarMar jumps off the bed at 4:15am. That means act quick or he’s going to have a problem... on the carpet... in your room... and you’ll be a lot more awake cleaning that up than just letting him out. So I jumped up and threw the door open and he raced outside. He ALWAYS sleeps through the night, so he must have been feeling sick ☹ However, this did not spare me from basically being awake every 2 hours at 2am 4am and 6am. LAME!

You know, when I was in like 8th grade, I broke my leg. We were at Lake Almanor on the 1st day of vacation riding our bikes through the campground when we saw our friends RV arrive. We were racing back to camp to greet them and through a very unfortunate set of fast paced events I “Sort Of” ran over a lady. You know, really ramped right up the back of her leg and left tire tracks all over her!! As I attempted to exit my bike and put my left leg down it landed funny and on a hill and then i lost my balance and the bike and I fell over but my foot stayed in the same place. POP! broken.... leg.... My brother and sister raced back, got my parents, who brought the RV and we headed off to the hospital. The fracture sort of looked like someone traced an outline around a lollipop. NOT GOOD. This required a special cast clear up to high thigh even though the fracture was just above the ankle.

And since it was day 1 of vacation, you know we didn’t go home. They laid me up in a lounge chair and I got to watch everyone play, bike ride, have water gun fights, water ski, jet ski... I had to sleep in the RV while a gaggle of kids got to stay up all night in “tent city”... Mom was nice enough to let me have the window open so I could at least hear. To this day, almost SEVENTEEN YEARS LATER... There was a joke about chicken nuggets that I will never forgive myself for missing. They laughed until they cried. I just cried.

8 weeks I was immobile. Cast up to my thigh and they put it on so my knee was slightly bent and my foot pointed in just a little. Basically to ensure I wouldn’t be walking on it. Finally the cast came off. And FUCK if I could not for the life of me remember how to walk. I used to sit and watch people walk by and think, how do they do that?! Heel.. toe... bend knee... lift... repeat... It just didn’t come natural! OMG! Weeks I struggled with this. It was embarrassing and mind boggling. Who forgets how to fucking walk? It’s not like I had a stroke or a brain injury. I think really I just put too much thought into it. And my mom gave me a slight complex because she said I was walking pigeon toed. She was right, but it was one more thing to concentrate on that when I walked my feet pointed straight ahead so I didn’t look retarded. And I just kept thinking, when is this not going to be an issue anymore? When will things just be normal again? Will they ever be normal again? OMG...

So where am I going with all this? Clearly one day, I just started walking! Everything came together. I look normal, walk normal, no pigeon toes - NORMAL. But I had to let it all go first. I almost crippled myself literally with over-thinking and trying so hard to get it right and by observing and calculating what everyone else was doing or thinking about what I was doing...

And I think that’s what my life is right now. I’m all wrapped up in nothingness in my head even though everything is normal and all systems are go. And really it should just be natural. Life should just happen. I’m thinking and calculating and waiting on baited breath for things to just be normal again. What happened? Will things ever just be normal? Will I ever not feel like something is wrong all the time? Even though nothing is wrong, I’m not getting it right. I’m watching everyone else and they seem to be getting it right. Maybe if I do exactly what they do it will fix things. Nope, nope... that didn’t work. Think Marisa... Think...

AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH

STOP! Make it stop. Please - just stop. I’m ok... I’m doing it to myself... I have at least THAT MUCH awareness. I need more time at home, more time alone, more time to read, walk, be with nature - get back to basics and really let it all go.

Religious Oppression

You know, I don't really talk much about religion because it's hard to explain to someone who hasn't lived MY religious experience. Especially in a blog. Plus I have this incredible guilt about bad mouthing them to the world for fear that if there IS a god he would be quite displeased with me.

BUT in talking with a friend who has shared the hell that is witnessdom with me, i had the revelation of how strongly it has affected me. Not just in my growing up, but now in my adulthood as the rejection is palpable.

I guess I never learned how to make friends as a child. How could I? I spent all that time at school, but couldn't really develop a relationship because there was never any after school possibilities. (Parents wouldn't let anyone who wasn't a witness come over) and we always lived so far out no one would come see me even if it was acceptable. No after school activities, no school dances, no football games, no prom, no ANYTHING. I truly spent all of my time alone or only with family.

Being sheltered was not the protection parents thought it was. It was a life sentence for me. I feel like I'm years behind and always trying to catch up. Instead of dating or having a boyfriend or just hanging out with friends and going to the mall, I was on home studies cooking for a husband that was really my dad, caring for a baby that was really my brother, and nursing a dying patient that was really my mother.

I'm unsure of every step I take because EVERY STEP is a new one. At 25 I'd never celebrated a birthday, a Christmas, a mothers day. Never drank a green beer. Never set off a firework. I'm days away from turning 28 and I've never even been on a date.

And now that the witness ties and family bonds were broken, I have this huge abandonment issue. If EVERYONE I KNOW ,including my own mother, can turn their back on me while I repent and beg for forgiveness (to no avail), how could I not doubt the sincerity of those who claim to BE THERE for me now? That's why I don't TRULY lean on my friends when i need them. SIGH

In the same way, it's caused me to be selfless to the point of injury in my own forgivness of another. That's my problem. Instead of setting a standard for myself and setting boundries to protect myself, I just blindly open up and put MY WHOLE SELF OUT THERE and hold them close to me. I can't bear the thought of someone feeling that cold hearted "rejection" coming from me. I know how badly that hurts.

It's also caused me to realize I don't know who I am. I spend HOURS trying to think what makes me... ME. Yet, I can't choose a direction. I WANT TO DO IT ALL. I'm so starved for EXPERIENCE, how could I possibly cut off even ONE option? It comes off like I contradict myself or that I just lack follow thru, but that's not true. Is jack of all trades, master of none really a good thing?

Is it a contradiction to listen to Pantera and want to get the shit beat out of me in a mosh pit, and then come home and put on an apron and make vegetarian chicken w/ an herbs de provence sauce?

Is it a contradiction to drink wine and listen to jazz and just be a tourist/sightseer on Saturday and then go sit in some bachelors house on some shitty hand me down couch and drink a 40 of Mickey's with the boys?

Is it a contradiction to shop and wear pink and heels and be stupid and immature and totally valley girl today, but spend my time recycling and connecting with nature and meditating on my life seeking for inner peace and positive depth and growth tomorrow?

I've noticed that this same "contradiction" manifests itself as some sort of duality in my personality. In my need to not be judged and therefore not judge others I just want to BLEND in with who I'm with - be accepted. I constantly relive every laugh and sentence and comment to make sure that it was in line with who I'm with at the time. The worry that I said or did something wrong might cause another "cutting off" is more than I can bear. I laugh it off and say "When in Rome.." but does that mean there is no REAL ME?

Let's say I want to be a better designer and web programmer. That would mean giving up friendships and fun to stay in the house and read books all day. Lets say I want to be perfectly skinny. That would mean giving up my free time to cook and clean and be domestic so I could work out at the gym for hours and hours for the rest of my life. I want to work with animals and nature and just be a hippy who owns a communal garden and runs a small vegetarian cafe, but would I have to give up my fast paced, challenging, technical job and my glorious shoes and impractical sports car? I'm lost.

This has of course gotten off subject and bit too revealing for a blog. Talk about opening up and putting yourself out there for rejection...

I think to sum it up, I want people to put as much time and effort into me as I so desperately put into them. I just want balance and acceptance. For everyone to be happy. FOR ME TO BE HAPPY. Think it's possible? In my innocence I have to say yes. I'm working on it. I'm working on it.

:D