When we were young...

Think back.

I remember, when I was about 5 years old, my family was in Florida staying at my grandparents house. I was lying in bed, crying. My mom came in to see me. I told her, I had dreams to perform. (I was 5 or 6 years old. Why the hell did I use the word 'perform'??) I told her I wanted to put on shows for people and hear them clap at the end. She told me, "You can be whatever you want to be...when you grow up."

I remember I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. I knew she wouldn't let me do what I wanted to do then, as a child. Yet, at the same time, my parents instilled the same belief in me that ALL parents tell their children. The belief that you can be whatever or whomever you want to be when you grow up.

So, as children we have all these dreams. Tons of dreams! I know I sure did.

I remember wanting to write children's books and illustrate them myself. I wrote book after book, and bound them with cardboard covers. Then, I thought I'd be a painter. I destroyed our kitchen table with my acrylics and watercolors. I usually got more paint on the table then the canvas!

Next, I decided I was going to be a teacher. Which was followed by an astronaut. Then, I was going to be an actress. On broadway. Then, I was to be a dancer, and pranced around my house in a tutu my mom made for me. Even though I had never taken dance before in my life and was about as graceful as Bambi, I was convinced I could do it!

Then, I wanted to be a meteorologist. And then I was back to being a writer again. Only this time, I wanted to pen the great American novel and write screenplays on the side. I would then decide I wanted to be a movie producer. Then, for a brief moment in middle school, I thought I wanted to be a pro soccer player. Then I wanted to move to Egypt and study the ancient Egyptians. I had a fascination with Egypt. I still do.

Next, I thought I'd be an architect. I love traveling and studying achritecture. This turned into a dream of going into interior design. Then, a clothing designer.

In high school, I dated a guy who told me I should follow my passion for music. On a trip to Colorado, he and I decided I would be a country singer. Haha. Then, that path turned into a dream to be a songwriter. Songwriting turned into poetry. Me, a poet?! And back into songs again. Through out the years, I filled journal after journal with pages of nonsense, scribbles, words, and sketches. Few made sense to others, some I still don't understand, but those pages were always there for me to get everything out. I still write in a journal regularly. But now, it's not for the hopes of someday publishing it all...no. Now, it's just for a sole purpose of my soul. To clear things out. Whether they make sense or not!

And one of my latest entries, simply stated: "What happens to those dreams we had as children?"

I had dreams. Hopes. As a child, I pictured myself in a certain way when I thought about being an adult. I thought about how I'd look, and what I'd do. Who I'd spend my time with and what type of person I'd be. As a child, I was told I could do anything I wanted and could be anything I wanted to be. And I believed it! I thought that I held the world in the palm of my hand. That anything, and EVERYTHING was possible. I thought that as long as I did what was in my heart, my dreams would all fall into place.

But, as I grew older, sensibility and logic took over my dreams. Doing what was practical took over following passion, and my direction began to float away from all those dreams.

As children, we are taught that anything is possible. Then, somewhere along the way, we shift on to paths to become accountants, teachers, and lawyers. Things that make us prosper and practical. We go to college and study business or science. We no longer hold tight to the dreams we had as children. We graduate, get daily routine jobs, work long hours in jobs we hate, and lose sight of all the things we wanted as a child that made us so bright and hopeful. The things that made us unique. The dreams and hopes that made me, ME.

So, when does it become all about making a living and no longer about what makes us happy? Do we naturally let go of those childish dreams? Or does society condition us to believe that anything and everything really ISN'T possible? Is it symptoms of fairytales gone wrong? Or is it that only a few of us really have the strength to beat the odds and do what truly will make us happy?

Do dreams really come true?

update

Wow. I haven't been on here in a WHILE! Good thing I don't have any followers... :)

Things are changing. Yet, the more they change, the more things all feel the same sometimes. This summer and fall flew by in a whirlwind. In the blink of an eye, months passed and here I am. In the same place I fear to be.

However, things have been good! I said goodbye to an old love that moved on in a hurried pace. I had an old love rekindled, just to burn out all over again. Will it light again?!?

My family is still strewn across the plains, and we lost my grandfather a few weeks ago. It was sad and upsetting, as any death is. But when one has been living confined and uphappy, sometimes it's a step in the right direction when they leave us and move on to a more spiritual world. My grandfather had been severly depressed ever since my grandmother died when I was in high school. The weird thing? They both passed on my dad's birthday. hum. It makes you think a little bit about how we are all connected somehow.

I lost my job in September. About 80 of us were laid off that day. It was rough. We made the best of it, and celebrated that night. "To new beginnings!" we toasted. Yet, I feel stuck. Unable to find work in this city, my optimisim and bright demeanor are starting to fizzle. But I know things will fall into place. They will. THEY WILL!

You, know, sometimes I lie in bed at night and I think to myself. I think, "when you were little is this what you wanted? Is this what you thought life would be like?"

And that brings me to my next post....

ew ew ew.

So, I wrote Missy this morning about my night last night. She thought my story was hilarious and entertaining despite my fear and troubles. Thought I would just pass it on to you all, to bring a smile to your face, and remind you why you should be glad you are not me. :)



A horrible thing happened last night.

I went to bed. I couldn't sleep, and got up to pee. There was something dark on my bathroom floor-I turn the light on. It's a spider bigger than a quarter. OH NO. So, you know me, I'm freaking out. I hate spiders. With a passion. A daddy long leg can on the floor can have me up on the counter, screaming in terror. My friends and family have found this hilarious throughout the years. But mom bought me this HUGE thing of bug killer with a gun on it that you can shoot a bug with from a mile away. So, I go and get it, and put my tennis shoes on. I'm in my underwear and a tank top, so this is a funny sight as is. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror in this ridiculous outfit with my frazzled night hair-it's wasn't pretty. It's midnight-remember this. I get back in the bathroom. Even Zoey won't go near this spider. Normally, she chases them and tries to eat them. Weirdo. Why would anything willingly chase a spider?! Anyways, I'm even more freaked because not even Zoey wants to approach this monster. So, I get a safe distance away, plant my feet, take aim, get ready and FIRE!!! I spray the FUCK out of this spider. I mean, this amount of chemical should have killed anything! And to my HORROR, it's a mommy spider. Tons of little freakin creeeeeeepy baby spiders start crawling all over my bathroom floor! TONS OF THEM. And I swear to you, they could smell my fear. I almost fainted I was so freaked out. It was a scene of out a horror film to me. I had tears streaming down my face, and I was screaming at them like a deranged psychopath-"Die fuckers!!! DIE ALL OF YOU! Creepy little bastards!!!!!" After what felt like an hour, I thought I got them all, and I stopped spraying. Then, some of them started to crawl again. So, I fired back up my chemical gun and sprayed again! I eventually sprayed so much of the bug killer that there was puddle covering my entire bathroom floor. I just stood there in a sea of floating spiders. EW. I then had to mop up the whole floor with what seemed like a billion dead spider on it. UGH. Grossesst thing ever! (It still gives me the creeps.) I carefully cleaned it all up (I used about a roll and a half of paper towels)...I had to have it set up perfectly to where my hand never touched one of those little 8 legged bastards...there had to be plenty of towel in between the gross crawler and my hand! Once it was all disposed of and out of my house, I showered. Exhausted, I then, I tried to go back to bed. It's after 1am at this point. I have to be up at 5:30am. Needless to say, however, I was too freaked to sleep. Anytime I shut my eyes, I thought something was crawling on me and I would flail around in my bed!!! Then, I would lay there, and think that any dark spot in my room or any shadow was the spider's family coming for me to get their revenge. Irritated and completely freaked out, I turned on my lights, grabbed my TV, and the movie 27 dresses. I put the movie in thinking it would calm me down enough so I could sleep. Nope. I watched the movie. Twice. Wide awake. Since at this time it was almost 6am anyway, I just got up, showered again, and got ready for work. It sucks because I have a 12 hour day today at work and got zero sleep. I still feel like things are crawling all over me, even though I'm just sitting at my desk at work. I wrote my apartment manager a letter about expecting an exterminator to come to my infested apartment!!! I have to say, this incident was NOT good for my already intensely insane arachnophobia. BLAHHH! Ugh.

Don't ever make children try on clothes in the living room when they are 6 years old while the adults watch the movie Arachnophobia. When they grow up, they will end up like me. I blame you, mom!!! :)

I make mistakes.
I know this, believe me.
And you point them out to me.
But you,
You make mistakes, too.
And I understand.
I'm not perfect,
-neither are you.
And we're not always perfect together.
The smile that creeps on to my face when you around, though?
Now that's perfect!

irritated...with myself.

i have to say, i do try to learn from my mistakes. but sometimes...i really am just a special kind of idiot.

if anyone has actually read this blog, they would know that a few months ago, someone very close to me walked out of life. you know how they say that when one door closes, another one opens? this is very true!

after all that happened, someone from my past reached out to me. i have cared about this person for years, and it was amazing when they popped back in my life. they lifted my heart up, helped me get back on my feet, and really stood by me while i learned how to be myself again. i spent a few weeks with them, and it was the most fun i have had in a really long time! what a great new door that had opened for me!

yet, my dumbass slammed that door shut too. after a few weeks, i made a BIG mistake. this person reached out to me, spilled out their feelings, gave me a chance, and i shut them down. hardcore. after taking some time to sort out my thoughts and feelings, i realized i wanted to take a chance. and once i realized this, i reached out and tried to rectify my mistake. but to them, it no longer mattered. when i slammed that door shut on them, another one opened for them...and they didn't look back to me. not once. :(

i'm so irritated with myself. why can't i ever just go for it? take a chance when it's there in front of me? once again, i hesitated, got scared and let a great opportunity and person slip through the cracks. and i have no one to blame but myself. fucking sucks.

I broke us.

To be honest, I have a pattern. And not a good one...no matter how hard I try not to run, I seem to do it over and over again. I'm doing it now...and no one is stopping me this time.

I BROKE US

I always seem to say the wrong thing
I offend you, and you walk away
A fault, another 'lost one'
Words refuse to become screened in
and blocked from the wind.
I feel like an idiot.
but now I forgot what is was
That I meant to say.
Can't defend my words
out of your or my mouth
Just "a phrase"? Three words really...
no, too many words to say,
or to take away.
They broke me,
and I broke you.
I tore myself away from
the one thing
that meant
everything.




And the worst part is, I love you.

I have a new love. No, not a boyfriend! No, I am reviving my love for John Mayer. I adored him after I saw him at Riverstages years and years ago, before Room for Squares came out. Then, a show in Louisville had me hooked. But then, I have this weird thing, that when someone gets really mainstream and popular, I tend not to like them anymore. Odd? I don't know. So, I wasn't a big fan for a while. But a friend of mine recently introduced me to the John Mayer Trio, and I'm hooked! It's John Mayer, but better! And I'm in love. I listened to it non-stop today. And it's made it a grrrreat day, despite the rain in Ft. Lauderdale! :)

John Mayer Trio, TRY! ...I promise you'll love it!