When The Sun Shines

Sunday night, I met a guy who I was just completely blown away by and felt instantly connected to, only to have him leave without giving me so much as his first name, nevermind phone number, etc. My ego was, to say the least, bruised.

Last night (Monday night), I got invited to hang out with the same group of guys that I met him through. He came out with us. Slowly but surely, we wound up sitting almost on top of each other we were so close, holding hands and, eventually, he worked up the nerve to kiss me... He paid for everything, opened doors, and, this was new, looked on in amazement as I spoke and proceeded to tell me how smart I was. He's younger than me- a month younger than my sister, in fact. I'm not exactly known for dating younger dudes, but this guy, I don't know. He's Christian, but our beliefs, of course, match up pretty close, so far as they're applicable to day to day life, and it didn't bother him that I wanted to wait til marriage. We came back early- around 130 this morning- and stayed up talking and kissing- not even a hint of anything else- all night. Around 5 this morning, we got up and went for a walk to find breakfast, and, closer to 7, finally fell asleep on my bed, curled up together. I haven't been comfortable with guys in my room lately, nevermind enough to fall asleep with them. I am blown away by how wonderful this all feels. He'll be going on leave shortly to see his sister graduate, but wants to come back a little earlier than he'd planned to spend some time with me. We're together, and it's fast as all hell, but this is incredible. I don't have to hide anything from anyone, I can take pictures of us and not have to worry about where I post them or who sees them, we can hold hands in public, and he treats me like an absolute queen. He keeps saying how lucky he is... He's just such a *good guy*. He's hadd 7 girlfriends in his entire life... How many guys have I called my boyfriend? I couldn't even guess. I've had four serious relationships in my life, but this dude is highly selective, and we've just clicked like it was supposed to happen all along.

It don't get no better.

Wishes Like Kisses

If I had as many wishes as you'd given me kisses...

You'd still be mine.

You would have been mine then, and not just in my arms.

You wouldn't have left, and I wouldn't have cried.

There would have been many nights at the jazz club, many nights curled up in a secret place, away from prying eyes.

I'd be in your arms right now, whispering I love you as you open your eyes.

I'd know I really do have a place no matter what, and that place would be beside you.

I wouldn't question if I could ever love anyone else the way I love(d) you.

I wouldn't wonder if I'll ever be over you completely.

I wouldn't remember the indescribable sensation of your kiss, and hate that I can't ever have that again.

I wouldn't hurt because I know that someone else is enjoying that sweet sensation that I miss so much.

I wouldn't look at your pictures and know that you're happier there, because she'll never cry in your arms, knowing you won't be coming back.

I wouldn't find myself , a month after you left, still sleeping with your sweatshirt and wondering when my heart will heal completely, or if it ever will.

I wouldn't miss your smell, your touch, or your kiss, because, if I had as many wishes as you gave me kisses, you'd still be here, holding me, kissing me, loving me that way that I've never known before.

If I had as many wishes as you'd given me kisses, I'd have many more wishes, because there would be no end to your kisses.

In the light, In the darkness

Baha'i folks are taught that there is no evil, only the absence of good, as with a darkened room. You cannot fill a room with darkness, but you can remove the light.

I am trying to keep this in mind as my small, insignificant life seems to spin perilously out of my control.

I'm not losing my cool and, for that, I am grateful. It seems one of these recent tests must have given me some immeasurably valuable lesson of how to keep from losing it like I have so often in the past. I am an emotional person by nature, so this time of calm takes me by surprise, no doubt. I am struggling, it seems, in all areas of my life right now. Family has become a stress, though the majority of it is not my father's illness as I'd expect, but my sister's inability to see herself as anything but the saint in all of this. She is too much like our mother for my comfort, and I know that means, in the long run, we will likely lose touch with one another, though I hate the thought. She is my sister, and I love her as I might love my own child someday-a sentiment I have no doubt she can't understand- so the thought of her ending up anything like our mother, whom I've spoken to two or three times over a period of three years now, pains me deeply. I know what it is to have someone like that in my life, though, and I know it's not something healthy. The alcoholic tendencies are already visible, and the holier-than-though attitude is only growing. I am sad to see it all, but I have no idea how to stop it.

My head spins with the ideas of love in my life, the boys that are trying to step up that don't seem to fit in that spot and the ones who seem to ignore me completely who seem to be exactly what I need. I wonder if my father will see his first grandbaby born, or if I will say goodbye to him alone. I don't know how to handle all of this, and still have hope for the future. I can't imagine a life without my daddy, and the looming diagnosis of MS is exactly what that tells me. Eventually, his nervous system will shut down completely. It hurts to think of this, but I know now that it's a very real possibility. I can't imagine waking up someday and him just not being there when I need him. I wonder what will become of me without my daddy to lean on.

I'm a little less numb than I'd like to be right now.

Breaking The Cycle

The last 24 hours have been a little bit weird for me.

Yesterday was an outstanding day, I went and got my nails done, and my first professional massage. After this last week, I really enjoyed that, despite my wonderful friend having to explain to the masseuse that I wasn't a gangster, over and over again. Tattoos are, as Pirate Chick put it, what swastikas or tear drop tattoos are to Americans. What else could it mean? And Koreans aren't known for their ability to think outside the box.

Anyway, I went out to eat with a bunch of friends, mostly medics for a change, including the one that, for whatever reason, hates my guts. She kept her thoughts to herself, at least. It's a start. We all ended up at a bar, hanging out and goofing off. People came and went, but it's not a big G.I. bar like some are, so it pretty much remained people in our group, and a few civilians. As 2 AM rolled closer, Bear got more and more visibly intoxicated. I wasn't concerned with it, as he's going through a hard time, but knows I don't like people drinking too much as it is. I figured he knew his limits and how to handle himself, and he's plenty old enough to do the right thing. At some point, he asked the bartender to pour "his girlfriend" (referring to me- wow) a drink. About the time I told him to drink the stupid drink (a shot of tequila at that) that the bartender had poured for "me", because I sure as hell wasn't drinking after a year of sobriety, he began to argue with me about what he'd said to the bartender. Mind you, he'd been standing next to me when he said it, and then repeated it to me after, as if looking for approval. It wasn't like I hadn't heard him. Anyway, he got continually more aggressive during this argument, until I stopped and told him four times he needed to drop it. I felt the anxiety level rising, and he wasn't backing off. Eventually, I left- twice. The first time, I explained to him, in no uncertain terms, I needed to be away from him, and from the argument, period. The second time he ran up to me in the street. I yelled at him, grabbed him by the front of his (very nice, clean, button-up, white collar) shirt and yelled at him, with some pretty strong language, that I had PTSD, I needed him to leave me alone before I snapped. I can only imagine how this looked, as Bear is, well, a bear. He's roughly 6 ft 3, and outweighs me, probably nearly twofold. Several locals stopped and stared, but I couldn't just turn it off, I had to get away from the situation. I was already getting tunnel vision, and it was getting harder to breathe. Two more times I had to scream at him in the middle of the street to back off, the second one ending almost in a threat, before he, I think, backed off. I didn't look back that time, as I did not want to know if he was back there, I didn't trust my response. I managed to avoid him once I got back to the barracks, and stayed with my brother for the night, to make sure there would be no more contact. This morning, I told him I wasn't mad, but that it shouldn't have happened, though I seriously doubt I'll spend much time with him for a while.

The moment of understanding came as I was walking to my brother's room. I ran into a couple I know, though I'm not terribly close with either of them, but generally respect them both as people. He asked me what was going on, and I told him. She just looked straight at me (I assume they'd both been drinking, but neither was showing signs of it that I noticed) and told me I'd done the right thing by stepping away from the situation and letting it cool down. I realized she was right, and was happy I'd been able to do that. In reference to fight or flight, fight definitely would have turned ugly fast. I wonder, in retrospect, if the commander's policy on 'alcohol-related incidents' would have extended to my punishment, as well, seeing as I haven't drank in over a year, but the other person was intoxicated. I need to remember to ask about that.

I got home this morning to an email from my sister that, well, sounds just like her. She played the 'poor me' card, and told everyone else in the family (well, myself and our father, anyway) that she was tired of playing the peace keeper, and she wouldn't be the adult in all of this anymore and blah blah blah. Maybe someday, she'll realize that 99% of the drama revolves around her deciding to not speak to, help, or take care of our father. She shuts people out just because she doesn't want to handle things, or because it makes her feel in control, I suspect, is the more likely reason. I'm sure her response to this would be something about the fact that I have spoken to my mother twice in three years now, but, frankly, being a survivor of Münchhausen's by proxy, and a recovering alcoholic, I know that I have done my best to deal with my mother, but that she will always insist on opening up new wounds if she can't reach the old ones, and I've forgiven her it. Forgiveness does not mean I have to let her hurt me again, though, and I won't. I am confused, much of the time, over what my sister must remember and what she doesn't. I don't understand how she can tell me my mother's not an alcoholic when she, herself, was the one to call me one evening because my mother was left in the house with cooking wine while my sister ran to the store, and came back to find my mother falling down the stairs she was so drunk. I wonder if she remembers the bottle of Listerine my mother still carries in her car to this day, or the times she drove us home from her friends' house drunk. I wonder if she remembers the nights we'd wake up to my mother raging and crying, an empty bottle beside her. I wonder if she remembers the insults, the hospitalizations, the medications I would vomit, just to be told I had to take them again. I wonder if she remembers me when I was so numb emotionally that physical pain was the only thing I understood. I wonder if she understands that I was 21 before I understood what it meant to take responsibility for my own actions, because all my life, my actions were treated as nothing more than a result of whatever diagnosis had most recently been slapped on my file by whatever shrink she had found that was willing to play her game without removing me from all the medications she'd had me put on. I wonder if my sister remembers my mother looking at me the morning after I lost my virginity to a rape and calling me a whore. I wonder if she remembers the arguments between me and my mother when I found out I was pregnant, my mother demanding that I get an abortion, and me refusing to leave the house with her, because I was scared she'd force me to have one. I wonder if my sister remembers the things my mother told us about our father our whole lives. I wonder if she remembers the men my mother cheated on our stepfather with, or if she even knows that she'd be sent to her friends' houses so my mother could use her bed to do some of these things in. I wonder if she ever remembers my mother swinging at her boyfriend and claiming abuse, or if she remembers the bottles of Jim Beam that littered the Cadillac. Empty alcohol bottles were a normal part of my childhood.

I will not be that woman. I will not be the woman she told me I would be. I will do better. I will not fight, I will not hurt people, I will not demand control of others. I will gain control of my own life by letting go of the need for control of other things. I will break this cycle- hers, and my own. I will not let men rule my world, and I will not let my past ruin my future. I will not continue on this cycle.

I had my tubes tied, cut and burnt at eighteen years old because my mother had me so convinced I had all these horrible conditions I would certainly pass on to my children. I still don't understand how the doctor didn't research it enough to find out I couldn't have even been diagnosed with those things at that age. I had what is quite possibly irreversible sterilization because of factors imaged by my mother. As much as this still hurts sometimes, I know that I have more control over bringing a child into this world because of that. I will have invitro once I am part of a stable, happy marriage. I will not bring a child into this world the way my mother did- wanting something to use as a pawn, to control, someone to finally give her the unconditional love she felt she hadn't gotten from her own parents. I won't do that. I won't be perfect, nor will my child, but I will not set my child up for failure by creating a human being simply for my own purposes. I can do better than that, and I will break this cycle.

Monopoly

It's amazing how popular the 'You got played' opinion is when it comes to Rock Star. Honestly, I no longer care. He decided he didn't want me in his life, so I'm moving the hell on. I'm better than either a) getting played or b) being wrapped up in someone who has no clue what they have. Seeing as I caught him in lies, anyway, I couldn't care less what the truth was or is, as it's pretty obvious he doesn't see anything wrong with the choices he made, anyway.

I would rather someone be a complete a-hole than lie to me, without a fraction of a shadow of a doubt.

I'm on my own. I really don't care any more. I leave in less than 50 days, and I could not care less what kind of path of destruction I leave in my wake when I go. There are VERY few people here who matter at all to me, and, well, the rest of them can eat a dick and die slow.

I'll pray for ya'll, but, honestly, I'm really tired of being on the receiving end of disrespect. I may not be the nicest person, but I'm always honest. You can corner me about how I handled a situation, or why I said what I said, but I'll tell you straight up, yes I requested you not be there because you run off at the mouth and I don't want my business put out on the street. (One example, and yes, used that one today.)

I'm tired of worrying what people think, I'm tired of making my decisions based on their opinions, and I'm tired of hurting because one of many people (mostly guys) decided not to take my feelings into account when they made the choice to play with me.

I do not need you.

I do not want you.

I am, honestly and truly, better off without you.

I save money by not traveling anywhere to see you.

I save heartache by not exposing myself to your retarded, juvenile games.

I save time and energy by taking care of myself instead of trying to spend time with/talking to someone who's just going to take me for all I'm worth the first chance he gets anyway.

This is not just one person. This is a long list of dudes that I trusted, and, no, maybe not all of you are the same, but I'll tell you now, you better police up your buddies, cuz they are doing you dirty by giving the whole species a bad name.

I've lost patience. I'll take what I want and stop worrying about having a man in my life in any way shape or form, besides my Daddy.

You want me? You better prove it.

Or Was It All A Dream?

I'm not a very patient person- at least not in the romantic arena.

Maybe I just need someone to balance me, and wind up with people too much like me instead.

I'm an extremely passionate person, and that's regardless of anything physical. That's simply who I am in my whole life. I've never been very good at indifference, or doing anything halfway. I'm at my best when I'm given something to focus on and it's mine completely. It's how I've always been. So, maybe it shouldn't be any surprise that I lose patience with people who aren't sure if they want me or not. I have yet to have a single ex that hasn't pulled a 180 turn after losing me. As rough as my self image is, I've seen it happen time and again. I'm not sure what it is about who I am that gets people like that, but I've heard the phrase "You're like a drug" enough times that I'm quite sure it's not just a line.

This whole addictive quality, though, has it's downside. I need someone more stable than myself, because, well, being passionate has it's ups and it's downs. More at the beginning than anything else, I need someone who knows I'm what they want, so when I have my second thoughts my partner already knows what he wants and won't just step aside.

Anything worth having is worth fighting for, as the old adage says.

When I get mad, I don't necessarily want someone who's going to be ultra-calm (nothing pisses me off more, to be honest, than someone who seems to have a lack of emotion), but someone who's going to be able to keep that rational hold on their perspective, even when emotions get deep. I do better each day, I think, on keeping mine on a leash, but I am who I am, and, particularly with someone I love, I won't always want to keep what I'm feeling under wraps.

It doesn't surprise me when someone calls me after things end. I know this sounds downright ego maniacal, but it's the truth, because that's what happens. The part that never seems to fail to throw me is how indifferent I am to someone who comes back in my life after they've already walked away.

Maybe it's abandonment issues.

I don't know.

It's just the way I am, and, you know what the really crazy part is?

I'm really effing tired of feeling like I should apologize for who I am.

Race Relations: The Doll Test

Stumbled across this article over at CNN, a re-do of the 1940's 'doll test'.

If you haven't heard of it, the doll test was a test given to young children, I believe all black children, during the segregation era. The children were given one black doll and one white, and asked which one they prefer, etc. White was overwhelmingly preferred.

It seems things haven't changed much today. Children, again, tended toward the darker skin being bad and associated with bad qualities and the white being good. A few children were exceptions, but the majority showed the same answers as before- but this was with both 'white' and 'black' children, though with all the different identifiers out there these days, I wonder how they chose the children.

The reaction from parents seemed, from my understanding, to be fairly universal, at least among the white parents: We've never really talked about race, I don't know what would give my child this impression.

People, talk about race.

Stop treating it as if it's politics or money. Hell, race is easier to talk about than religion by a long shot! Grow some cajones and open it up. I asked a girl of mixed race if she got a lot of crap growing up for being mixed. She was plenty willing to talk, as are many folks who have been discriminated against. It's easier to talk about it, than fight a shadow. Stop acting like it doesn't exist, because the more you put it out there, the easier it will be for future generations to learn that there's nothing wrong with the differences.

Athena

If you're reading this, and haven't figured out that I enjoy writing, well, welcome to my blog.

I had an idea today that's either a stroke of brilliance or sheer madness.

I am reading, as always, about 5 books right now... I think. (No, not an exaggeration. I have a short attention span and a very curious mind.)

Anyhow, two of them are physically focused. One is a book called "Goddess To The Core" by Sierra Bender and the other is "Get Selected For Special Forces" By MAJ Joe Martin.

Here I am, trying to focus on me, going through this whole weird quarter-life-crisis BS, catching dirty glances from guys in my office who think that I should be handing them this book (the SF one) because, well, I'm a girl and can't even go to selection so none of this could possibly be of any interest to me and then WHAM! It hit me like a brick of C4.

Why can't women do this?

No, no, no. I'm not going all G.I. Jane. Hell, she was a Navy Seal, get your branches straight, people!

Civilians! Ugh!

Hehe. Anyway, what I'm thinking is, well, a book.

Dammit, the Goddess of War in Greek Mythology was a woman. That's not a coincidence. I mean, seriously, get into a true battle with a woman. It doesn't matter what you do, we're not ever going to be wrong, and if we are, YOU will certainly be the LAST to know. We will- and do- go to extraordinary lengths to come out on top. Ask some of these SF guys how often they win a battle with their wives- I bet they're man enough to tell you they don't.

I don't need to be SF to prove myself. I don't need to put my body through hell and be the first woman to do this, that and the other. I have an ego already, I don't need the tab to give me one. I've been through plenty, I don't owe anyone justifications or proof.

I just can't stand the ignorance that surrounds women in the military.

I'm not a slut. I'm not lazy. I'm not sleeping my way to the top. I'm not any less willing to push myself than my male counterpart. I don't hate going to the field. I can survive without a manicure/pedicure/etc. I mean, all the stupid crap that goes into being a female in the military is ridiculous. I'm kinda unsure of even writing a book solely directed at women because there IS such a stigma surrounding us, but I'm not really sure, yet, how else to pull together everything I want to. It's a work in progress.

This Place

This is my anthem right now. Eminem's Not Afraid. It's off his newest album, and, well, I'm feeling this dude right now. It's nice when there's an artist who's on the same page as me right when I need a ray of light.

I need to stop this, right now. I was doing really well without letting guys get involved in my life, and I was really proud of myself at that point. Now, I'm back to struggling to avoid being with someone. Some people have told me I won't be happy til I learn to be alone, while one or two others (the minority) have told me that some of us are just that way- we're never happy when we're alone, and they've reassured me that it doesn't mean I'll never find the right one.

None the less, a certain infatard, as inappropriate as I felt it was, saying I have more relationship drama than anyone he knows, well, he wasn't wrong, even if he was wrong for how he said it.

I let people in, and it hurts me more than it hurts most people when they aren't what they seem to be.

I need to go it alone for a while, I need to rely on myself and my friends only, nobody else. If someone can't handle just being my friend, well, they didn't deserve me anyway.

I'm writing a lot more lately, and it's helping my emotions and my control of them.

I feel like I'm running on autopilot more often than not these last few days. Work is a joke, and I don't even care. I have short timers, and I'm just ready to be the hell out of this place. The people don't care, and I've stopped pretending they're supposed to. There are five people who listen when I talk, but I don't work directly with any of them, but wish I'd realized how they have my back before this late in the game, because two of them have enough rank to really help me if I need it. One of them, I really thought was looking at me the wrong way for a long time, but I'm starting to see a little more clearly. When you're a hammer, everything looks like a nail, I guess. After what I've been through, I forget that not everyone sees everyone else sexually. I knew sex before I knew love, so this is a concept it's still very difficult for me to grasp. I remember being 6 years old and imagining why two adults had gone into another room to speak privately. In retrospect, it probably never had anything to do with that, but as a child, that was what I understood better than normal interpersonal relationships.

Eighteen years later, I'm still struggling with this.

Perfect

I lie in bed, curled up on my side, the blanket tucked around me.

"Burrito," I think to myself, remembering what my Carnie said the other night when I spoke to him through Yahoo.

I snuggle in deeper and ask myself why I am reaching out for a friend when reaching out for a friend is what got me here. It hurts, I know, but this is the time when I have to break the cycle. Rock Star won't be back, I doubt he'll call, and I've removed him from my IM so I'm not so tempted to reach out to him. I just don't want to hurt anymore, and I don't want to force myself into someone's life in a way I'm not wanted there.

This is the time, when the pain cuts the deepest, when the world tells me I'm not worth it, when it echoes those words I heard for so many years as a child, THIS is the time when I need to be alone, and depend on God and myself alone. This is the time when I am going to give in too easily to another's influence and end up right back here because of that.

I want to be loved, but I don't want to sacrifice my soul to have that. It had the beginning of a fairy tale, but I'm too old for fairy tales. I can handle hard work and compromise, so long as there's a reason, an end point, a goal.

I took this picture the first night we went out together, two people in a group. "Love does not consist of gazing at each other, but in looking together in the same direction."

This quote was scrawled on a bar wall. Now the true meaning of it hits me all too clearly.

We didn't want the same thing, and I knew that. I was just playing the fool, all the while saying I'm tired of playing.

He read the last entry, so I'm sure he's given up on whatever this could have been. He more or less blew me off with a 'whatever you say' and I refuse to push it. If he doesn't want me in his life, I won't be there.

I won't call my friend, even though I know he'll hold me until the pain stops, if I let him. I won't call the guy on the first floor who's been trying for that night in my bed, and I won't call that annoying kid on the second floor who follows me around like a puppy dog. I won't even complain to the new guy who's been so good to me. I'll suck it up and hold it in, because they aren't the ones who need to handle it. It's between me and God, and I need to learn to depend a lot more on Him and a lot less on them.

Maybe this is what you were sent here to teach me, Rock Star, maybe I was wrong all along. If you even bother to read this, I wish you the best, and you'll be in my prayers, even if I never hear from you again.

Missing You, Missing Me

I wonder sometimes how much of my writing is simply to vent and express myself and how much is to try to convey a message to someone.

It's not always anyone in particular, but other times it is.

I'm above begging, pleading, hell... Sometimes I'm even above asking.

If you say you're one way, it's not my place to question you or argue with you. My lack of protest in no way, shape or form indicates agreement, which maybe is where the male vs female thing comes in. Guys argue when they don't like something, they fight for what they care about. Women, or, at least me, tend to try to suck it up and pretend it doesn't hurt until it either goes away or it hurts so much that there's no pretending anymore.

I've been going back and forth a lot lately.

There were rules I'd set out for myself that I've broken recently, for someone who I honestly don't believe cares about me enough to be worth broken rules.

Then again, someone who really cares, probably wouldn't have needed me to break rules.

Public or bust. I don't hide my relationships/actions, and if I do, it's not because I need to, it's because I choose to. I don't keep people off my profile for any reason other than the fact that I genuinely don't care for them. I sure as hell don't lie about my reasons for doing so, (yup, you know that one's at you with 80 people on your profile, up 5 since you first told me it was restricted to "Family Only"). I don't want to talk right now, I don't want to fight, because, frankly, what's the use in fighting with someone who doesn't care enough to acknowledge your relationship as exactly what it is- a relationship?

I'm not going to lie to myself and say this is just for fun, because I don't give the parts of myself I did just for fun. It was my mistake to open myself up to someone that soon, before they had the chance to realize all I'm worth.

I am worth being acknowledged.

I am worth more than being hidden.

I am worth being loved.

I am worth fighting for.

I am worth promises.

I am worth the truth.

I am worth your heart.

I am worth more than you're willing to give me.

The last time I felt these things, the conversation wasn't seen through. I won't risk that again. One person in my life knows who you are besides you, so if you're offended that I spilled my guts here, well, I'm worth that, too.

Nobody else knows who I'm talking about, they only know me, and they only know what I'm going through. You see, to everyone but me, you're of no consequence, because you chose that. I allowed you to hide me from the world because you 'weren't ready' and, frankly, I agree.

You're not ready for a woman like me.

It's too bad, too.

Because I was willing to give almost anything for a man like you.

In The Sight Of God

This picture is of two strands of prayer beads. They are made of coral and pearl, and they match. I have this set tucked away in it's velvet bag, in a box. I have not prayed with either set of these beads, and rarely take them out of their safe spot.

These are the beads I've bought as a wedding gift to myself and whoever I might marry someday. They also serve as a reminder of the part God plays in a marriage, at least in my eyes.

Each time I start to lose hope that I will find someone who believes as I do and who also can love me the way I need, I remember these. I simply can't believe that these will spend the rest of their days tucked away for safe keeping. Someday, there will be a man who comes into my life and is worthy of these beads, and the promise between me, him and God that they represent.

Someday, I will take these beads out of their box once and for all. That day will be like no other.

Reaching

Why is it when you let someone put you in a situation that's supposed to be 'good for you' but you're not comfortable in it, it only ends up with you hurting and angry?

I don't push everyone away, but when I'm already hurting, and I have to deal with these kinds of situations, I don't want those people near me, so I push them away.

Maybe this is what Chap meant about love being pushed but not pushed away.

Someday I'll find my rock, the one that's going to be unmoved when I'm angry and hurt, the one who pushes me to get it all out without running when I do.

Until then, I'm tired of people pretending to be that person when it's pretty obvious they don't want to be.

Dream

Well, I can whine about the way my life has been all I want, but that's not really going to make much of a difference, now, is it?

I'm working on a new dream plan thingamajig.

I guess, really, I'm revising the story of my life, cuz I'm pretty tired of it going like it has been.

My faith has become far more important to me in recent months, and continues to become more so. I am immensely proud of my faith, and am still becoming stronger because of it.

I have a friend who I've adored for quite some time, and, now that he's getting rid of the Perma-Preg, we're back to joking about ending up together. I don't know what the end result of this will be. At a point in my life when I realize how hard it is to find someone who cares about me AND is willing to stick around, he is the wildcard.

Frankly, I'm just ready to settle down. My ex-husband is a good guy, but we were never meant to be forever. I can't say that I miss him, so much as I miss being married. I miss knowing that there was someone who was connected to me in a way that meant what I went through, he went through. Even if we fought, I knew he was mine and I was his, and that there was no simple on and off switch like in most relationships. I know there were things we both needed to do better, but I miss not going it alone.

Accepting that some people aren't going to be the people I want them to be is hard. It's a part of life, though, and I know that there are reasons for each and every one of them. I'm moving on, one day at a time, wondering what life has left in store for me.

I have a better and better idea of what I want in life-a nursing degree, a family, a life with a focus on my Faith... I can see more clearly now what my marriage will need to be comprised of, and how to get it there. I'm learning, though letting go may always be the hard part for me.

I sent an email to my ex-fiancée today. I can't really say why, as it's been a while since we spoke, and I really would be lying if I said I thought it could ever be a good idea to be with him again. He seemed perfect, but he was more like perfectly manipulative. Supposedly, there are still three care packages floating around in the mail for me somewhere- one with my engagement ring in it. No, I don't believe it for one second, and it embarrasses me that I ever did.

How can I be so confused about so much, but still know what I want?

Think Of Me

Maybe I'm just wallowing at this point, I don't know.
I'm tired of being used, though, and I'm tired of people trying to get something out of me. It seems like, more and more, that line between who's really my friend and who I just can't trust is getting more and more blurred.

I look around at the people in my barracks and realize I really don't like most of them. It goes farther than that, though. People I used to consider family disgust me now. The few I care about around here know it, I think, but even some of them are distant. I was fortunate enough, yesterday, to have my eyes opened as to who some of my true friends are- two in particular.

I'm frustrated at this place, at the way life is right now. I just feel like I'm stuck waiting for life.

I'm not happy just waiting.

3 AM n I Must Be Alone

I know it's just stress getting to me right now, but, once again, 4 AM is closing in, and I'm awake. I've had a headache for almost 24 hrs straight now, with only a brief break. I have that pre-flu feeling, but I'm really hoping it's just the stress. I am rather evil when I get sick, and, what with short-timers kicking in lately, I'm probably evil enough as it is.

I'm ready for life to settle down, but it seems as if there's simply no end in sight. A friend of mine asked me if I wanted to have kids right after I got married. I can't imagine things settling down long enough to consider these things just now, so it was harder than I'd expected to answer this question. I don't want to wait too long, but I need to know I'm stable and able to adequately take care of all the people who need me before I can consider intentionally adding another person to that list.

If I get married any time soon, this man better have some serious patience. It's going to be a little bumpy for a while, and I'd need quite a bit of effort on his part to make everything work. Maybe after I get my degree in nursing I can consider having children. For now, well, the beat rolls on...

Declaration and Passive Passion

Today, Baha'is celebrated the Declaration of The Bab.

The Bab, which is a title that means 'The Gate', declared His mission on earth on the evening of May 22, 1844. He was the first of the Twin Messengers, and the first of the four major players in my faith. His life was short, but His mission important. He was the one who paved the way for the others.

Feast today was beautiful and interesting. I am truly blessed to have started my life as a Baha'i in Korea. To sit in a study group or prayer meeting, as I often refer to them for simplicity, with folks who've not spoken English their entire lives, people who live in a country/culture where the Baha'i law of receiving permission from parents of both parties when getting married is just a given, and things like respect for elders and making education a high priority are cultural norms... That's an amazing opportunity. In the states, I find myself often explaining, it is more and more rare for couples to ask their parents' permission to marry. In the Baha'i faith, a proposal is just the first step, but the couple are not officially engaged until the permission of both parents is obtained. The purpose of this is to help merge not just the couple, but to integrate families and build community. Marriage is not just a promise between two people, it is the bringing together of families, and the creation of a new one at the same time. They say it takes a village to raise a child, and the Baha'i mindset very much agrees with this, from all I've been so blessed as to experience.

We also went over the Ridvan (pronounced riz-wan) message today. Each year our highest headquarters writes a message for us- Army folks, think of it as an AAR of sorts. It's comprised of what we've done, what we intended to do, and what our strengths and weaknesses are. We, as a global community, are told what we need to focus on to strengthen our communities and spirits. This year's message was quite long, and, so, we only got to go through a couple paragraphs today.

This passage caught my attention and hit me like a sucker punch hits a drunk: "Let no one fail to appreciate the possibilities thus created. Passivity is bred by the forces of society today. A desire to be entertained is nurtured from childhood, with increasing efficiency, cultivating generations willing to be led by whoever proves skilful at appealing to superficial emotions."

Tell me that's not the truth.

This sprung a conversation amongst our group about the state of music today. Music is now an industry, whereas it was once an event, a practice, a ritual. Mrs. Yoon, a very kind lady of a generation before my own, commented that she went to a festival at the local college not so long ago and it was almost upsetting to her to see these younger folks sit, separated, and watching people dance. 'I felt the generation gap,' she told us, as she explained that music has always been a participatory thing to her, and here were these young people passively letting themselves be entertained by watching someone else enjoy music. I couldn't help but agree. It reminded me of the ride up to the spiritual retreat last weekend. Rock Star and I were the only ones with headphones on practically dancing in our seats to the music. How do you listen to music and not feel moved? What's the point of listening to music if it doesn't move you? Even when I am still, music brings out emotions in me that aren't tapped otherwise. Why is life becoming a spectator sport?! Why do you think these videos of people breaking out into song and/or dance in public places are going viral now? Are people really happy watching life? Are you really happy worrying about what people might think if you dance? Are you happy waiting for someone else to entertain you?

"We're fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance." -Japanese proverb

Not Afraid

It's amazing how things can hit you in bits, but still hit hard.

How much of my behavior has been dictated by the way she raised me, by the things she taught me when I was just starting to understand my responsibilities to this world?

How many attitudes, beliefs and habits are my own because of the excuses, the lies, the nonsense I was fed?

How will I ever know?

I asked Rock Star the other day if he knew what Münchhausen's disease was. He said 'Yeah, Eminem's mom had that.'

...What? How did I miss this?

I play 'Cleaning Out My Closet' and, sure as hell, he says it in no uncertain terms.

It's been stuck in my brain these last few weeks that there's something left to heal in that situation. I'm just not sure what. I sent her a Mother's Day card this year, though I've spoken to her twice in almost 3 years now, and it's been almost that long since I've seen her. It was almost selfish reasons, though. I made a comment about being sober for over a year, as March 21st was a year, and, well, it's way past due for her to sober up, too. My sister is convinced she's sober, me, less so. I've heard it before. The bottle of Listerine in her car, the midnight sobbing sessions after a couple bottles of wine, the 'dizzy spells' when she couldn't seem to walk straight, the nights she drove home drunk with my sister and I in her car... I wonder how much of this my sister remembers. She was young through the worst times, but I can't tell how much she understands some days. I suppose it's all just normal to her, but she still hasn't escaped that hell hole of a state, at least not long enough to see what the rest of the world is like.

I've been sober for more than a year. The cravings only come when I lose control of my emotions, but I expect them now, I'm prepared for them.

For all the parts of my life that simply aren't what I want them to be-lack of husband, child, college degree, etc- I've come a hell of a long way. Nobody can take that from me.

Daydreams

The way the first time was supposed to be...

The dreams of what "should have been" are tremendous and painful. I don't know how to let go of those without giving up hope for the future, though. This pic is something I saw on someone's profile, and linked it accordingly, but needed to write about what it made me feel and remember....

Lady Life

I got off of work today, quite proud that I held myself together, and kept my cool 100% about something that normally- at one point, anyhow- would have set me off without a second thought. Quite the accomplishment, for someone as emotional as I am.

I changed clothes quickly, but waited to pull my hair out of the bun- and the braid within the bun- until I got to the salon. I got my hair washed, deep-conditioned and trimmed. It felt great. My loverly friend, Miss Hook, as I will call her, text me asking if I wanted to have dinner. I had plans to talk to Rock Star, but still hadn't eaten dinner. I agreed, and text Rock Star that I was going to grab dinner before I got home.

As it turned out, Miss Hook and I both needed some chick time. I am truly grateful to have someone like her in my life, even as I lie in bed at 15 after midnight knowing I surely would have been in bed hours ago had I not been hanging out with her. I wouldn't have had it any other way. I forgot how great it is to have a woman to turn to about stuff and to bounce things off of. Sometimes she makes me see sides I might have missed otherwise (she calls this 'Big Sisterly Advice) but some of the time she nudges me in the direction I was avoiding going, knowing full well that was the only real choice all along. Usually it is a combination of the two- this is how you get to the point you know you need to be at type stuff.

Regardless, I am beyond thrilled that we got to lean on each other the way we did tonight, we both needed it.

I never did get to talk to Rock Star tonight, though I talked plenty about him... The other interesting thing about tonight is, well, it made me even more grateful for him, too. He's a wonderful man, and a wonderful friend and, well, whether it's easy or not, I really just need to open up my heart and let God take me down this path... It hurts less that way, and this is something I need. Maybe it won't be the outcome I've been hoping for, but maybe it will. Either way, the outcome will be what I need.

Thank you, Miss Hook, for pushing me to see what it would have been easier to dance around.

Thank you, Rock Star, for being patient while I learn the steps to this dance of... well, whatever it's called or not called, it's a dance I want to learn.

Buenos Noches, Mi Familia.

Sitting On The Rocks, Under The Stars

We sat there, on the bank of a river, the moon and stars shining in plain sight, leaning on each other and on the rock behind us. As I told him about my past, the rapes, the pain, the medications, the alcohol, he listened. He listened. He reached over and put his arm around me when it started getting harder for me to tell him the things I'd seen. It's been a long time since any of it was hard to talk about- it's an old story at this point, the pain is built in, the plot of my story one I've told so many times that it doesn't really phase me to tell it anymore. It seems like something I read somewhere, or a movie I watched, usually. As I told him my story, though, I remembered it, moment by moment, fear by fear, emotion by emotion. I remembered each time I questioned my own judgement, and what I felt when the detective accused me of being racist and accusing this guy of something he didn't do... I remember the feeling of my stomach clenching, and wanting to scream at her, but being too polite not to. I remember wondering if they'd arrest me for something as I ran out of the police department, into the arms of a husband I'd been planning to divorce, and who'd been planning to divorce me, until only days prior. He was determined to protect me, though.

I sat there, looking at the water running, at the otter swimming for shore, and telling my story to someone who hadn't known me for a day yet. I leaned up and kissed his cheek, several times. I felt safe there, despite opening myself up and actually going through the pain in my head again, when I hadn't felt it in so long. This man that didn't know me held me and listened. We talked about God, we talked about faith, we talked about all the things I believe in. I asked him if he ever felt like he knew why God had made him the way He had. He was the first person to ever answer yes to this question. We were inseparable. We talked about our divorces, about the baby I lost. I made the choice to open up to him that night, I made the choice to not run yesterday, an I made the choice not to give up on whatever this is supposed to be today. It hasn't yet been a week. I don't know what's intended for us, or if he's just another chapter, one that will close as so many others have done, but I do know he's more consistent, more devoted and more a part of me than I understand how to handle so soon. Not closing myself off from this is going to be one of the hardest choices I've ever made because I believe, truly, that this can not possibly work. Yet my heart ignores my mind anyway, and continues on, giving the rest of me no other choice but to follow.

Everyone's going to hurt you, you just have to find the ones worth suffering for. -Bob Marley

I'm not asking you not to hurt me, Rock Star, I'm just asking you to be worth it.

Quarter Life Of A Half-Light

Half Light is a term I've heard used in some Baha'i music, as we refer a lot to the 'Dawnbreaker' or simply 'Dawn' as being a new phase of growth for humanity, and some of us refer to ourselves as Dawnbreakers, Half-Lights, etc.
I will be turning 25 in January, which is enough of a frightening thought that it's hit me before I'm halfway through with my 24th year on this rock.
I noticed, the month after I turned 24, that my metabolism had begun to slow some, and, the month after that, that there were some lines appearing around my eyes. Apparently my body missed the memo that I'm supposed to have at least 3 more years before I start showing these signs of life lived.
Next month I'll have been divorced for three years, and this, too, is an anniversary I'm not particularly excited about stumbling through once again. To realize that, in what was once my ideal life, I'd have had a nine year old daughter, a husband of five years, and, presumably, a lot fewer questions about where I go from here, is, well, a little heavy, particularly in light of my fairly steady single-ness as of late. While I have no doubt that God has a plan, He and I tend to not see eye to eye on things like this. He seems to feel that I need a bit of work before I'm ready for forever. Personally, I say stick me with another imperfect human being, and we'll get the clue together. He's stubborn, though, and, as I pointed out to Rock Star last night, I will go through it whether I go voluntarily or He has to drag me- and He's much stronger than He looks. It's generally slightly less painful if I go willingly. Slightly.
I'm ready to settle down. I'm going to focus on school and faith when I get to Bliss. I want to get my 90 credit hours of civilian education so that I can apply for Green To Gold, as I would like to be sure of my ability to leave the military should the need arise once I have a family. It's not that I don't intend to support my family- it's simply that my family comes first, and a B.S. or better in Nursing would be a hell of a start to support my family. I'm okay with owing the Army a few years of my life to better support my family.
Everything's temporary, and this is such a hard thing to learn.
People, I fear, are more temporary than any other thing in this life.

Second Place

Rock Star passed.

No, not passed the test, passed on me.

That's what I get for bringing up that I deserve more than a passing look. I knew better.

Maybe he's going to be a great friend, or maybe he was going to be, or maybe he's just gone.

Right now, I'd be lying if I said I cared.

I'm hurting again, and, again, it was my choice to open up to someone. It was a great couple days. It was nice to remember what someone really caring about me "that way" was like.

I just wish I hadn't taken second place to someone's heartbreak again.

Your Kind Disgusts Me

I ran across this story of a beautiful family with ugly souls. They teach their children racism. They want to deport all non-white folks out of America. I assume they'd send each race back to it's country of origin, but I'm truly curious where they intend to send Native Americans (with whom I'm willing to bet they share some ancestry, sadly enough for the rest of the Nation) as they swear they are a 'non-violent movement'.

Hm.

To think Soldiers still get irritated by the need for Equal Opportunity training when things like this exist in the world- and our own country- even when we have a mixed-race president.

The Baha'i faith says there are no bad people- only people with the absence of good qualities. It hurts me to realize there are people so devoid of such qualities that they may never be reached.

There are two very positive articles I read today, though. One is the first Arab-American Miss USA has come, and I am proud to see this in this time when 'Arab is the new Black' in terms of racism. The other is a movement called Taqwacore; which is, perhaps, one of the most beautiful and intelligent, or at least forward-thinking, movements I've seen in a while. I was disappointed, to say the least, to see the American flag disrespected, but the rest of the attitudes I see expressed are much of what I believe in- people trying to control faith is ridiculous and counter-productive, and these folks may or may not be going about it the "right way", which is not for me to say, but this seems to be their path to equality, and I praise them for that much, when so many are busy fear-mongering. Maybe this is wrong of me to say, I don't know. The best quote out of this article, to me, is the following: Basim was once asked "how does it feel to be Muslim, knowing there are terroists?" Basim replied to the interviewer "How does it feel to be white and know about the slave trade?" They all laugh.

Then there's this piece about Iroquois women being the 'Proof is in the punch' for the early days of equal rights for women.

I've done a lot of reading today, it seems, and now, at the end of my rather bland day in the office (as indicated by my overload of articles to show) I must do a lot of cleaning here in my room. More soon, undoubtedly, as my brain has been on overdrive today. I suppose that's what a full night of sleep does.

Society

"I just don't know how to live in this society."
This quote is from a fellow blogger, The Beautiful Kind, who recently lost her job due to her sex life- more specifically, blogging about it. While I abhor the thought of judging people by their sex life- and I do think it's completely pathetic and unnecessary when people choose to do this- this is a far aside from my point. As such, I will allow my readers (all three of you) to look further into this matter on your own, as you wish.
Are there any of us who haven't felt this way? Maybe I'm one of few who has, I'm not sure. I really hate drinking and psychotropic medications. I strongly disagree with both. I am fortunate to not be dependent on either, though I have been in the past. I have been sober over a year now, and I've lost count on the medication. My life is a thousand times better since I've quit drinking, and I'm much happier. I truly believe people can go without the medications with some serious lifestyle changes. There are those, however, who would have to make major, severe and very difficult lifestyle changes to go medication-free, and I do know that there are those who literally, this would be impossible for, especially those with physical limitations and/or more serious or severe emotional struggles. So far as alcohol goes, well, I see the people who depend on it, and it makes me sad. I see my Muslim friends who drink, despite the fact that it goes against their entire belief system and all they believe in, and it genuinely hurts me. It reminds me how easily we slip into vices and making excuses for our behavior, as we all do, at least to some degree. I was one of the worst offenders of this for a long time.
I don't know how to live in a society where people are not supported when trying to follow their beliefs. I don't know how to live in a society where we make it easier for people to do the wrong thing than the right, when doing the right thing is already a challenge in itself. Premarital sex is against many faiths, yet we choose to accept it as common behavior rather than a habit to overcome. I don't agree with it, and lost myself on this one after my traumas, and am still working at coming back around to my beliefs and being able to fully hold myself accountable for this. I have, though, come a long, long way from being the 14 year old girl who believed that there was no point in saying no, because nobody would listen. I am proud of how far I have come. It makes me sad, though, to see people not hold themselves accountable for their own actions, especially where their faith is concerned. How do we expect to improve the world if we're too scared to look at ourselves honestly? Was there any person who did something great in this world who didn't look in the mirror and admit their own faults, who didn't see their own flaws? I think this must be impossible.
I don't know how to live in a dishonest society, in a society made of false fronts and shallow images. I don't know how to lie to myself about my faults, nor how to lie to others about theirs. I don't know how to live in a society where people are willing to demand full, brute and total disclosure of another's personal information, but unwilling and unable to look themselves in the mirror and be honest with what they see.
I just don't know how to live in a society like this.

Switch It Up

Isn't it just like God to let you stumble along, believing something that sure sounded true and served you well until that exact moment He needed you to wake up, and then KABLOW! Here's this realization that just dive-bombed you like mosquito on a hot day, and you're left with this big, itchy bump that's going to bug you for a week until it heals into being part of your healthy-again body.

*sigh*

So, Chap had told me, over and over again 'Love is pushed, without being pushed away.'

I've lived with this understanding since the first time it proved right- the people who really cared were never pushed away.

Now, here comes that twist.

Rock Star is an amazing person, and a truly wonderful man. I really can't, at this point, understand why any woman would let him go- though I know that he's got his faults like the rest of us, and I'm still in the early stages of all of this, whatever it is that this is or is going to be. I'm getting to that point where I always push folks away. I like him, I've trust him and let him in on a lot, but now... I don't want to be hurt. I let him in. If he walks away, this is the point where it's going to be a risk of pain to me. This is that turning point. My natural instinct? Screw this, let's go. Push him away.

I don't want to push him away.

He cares about me enough that he will step back if that's what I show him I want. I have no doubt about this, especially with as much as he knows about my past. He'd understand WHY I'd want to push him away, and, so, he'll let me.

Sometimes, maybe, you will have to stay tough and say 'I'm not going anywhere' and that might be what love is for some people, and at some points for people who care about each other. However... sometimes caring about someone, apparently, is having the balls to fight yourself and not push them away in the first place...

Even if it is easier to avoid the pain.

"Being a grown up sucks!" -Stewie Griffin

Onward Ever, Backwards Never!

I'm really trying to cut back on my swearing. No, I'm trying to STOP swearing before I make my big move to El Paso. Any idea how hard that is?
When I came to South Korea, I drank, dipped, smoked, swore like a sailor (talked like a Soldier), didn't know how to dress or do my makeup/hair and was, well, pretty anti-religion for the most part.
Lordy, look at all that's changed in 2 years. I don't drink- I don't even get the urge anymore, really- smoking appals me, dipping- um, hell no... And here I am trying to quit swearing. I barely touch caffeine anymore. I am even starting to enjoy running. I own roughly as many skirts/dresses as I do pairs of jeans, am the proud owner of both a flat iron and a blow dryer, and have a retarded number of hair and make up products. I own three bottles of perfume that cost more than $25.00 a piece- something I never would have considered before, though, to be honest, I do miss my Love's Baby Soft body spray. (I've always loved the baby powder smell, that and lilacs.)
I barely recongize myself some days. I dress more conservatively than I once did, though I'm much more aware of the attention I get from guys and, well, why. I do alright, I really do. How this all will translate into my transition back stateside, and how my faith will play a part in it worries me, no lie.
I want to meet a Baha'i man. I don't mind the thought of raising my child in a multi-faith household, but it's rare to see someone with as much faith as I have in most religions these days, and I can't imagine raising a child with someone who doesn't have strong faith.
I have a friend I care for very much right now, but I know he's going through quite a bit, so I don't expect him to want to stick around (in that context) once I've left Korea. That's fine, and I can't blame him.
I am probably too eager to settle down, but freedom is only exciting for so long, I suppose.
I'll be 25 in January, and this is a frightening thought. Next month, I'll have been divorced for 3 years. It's amazing how quickly the years fly. There's a lot of things I'll do better in my next 25 years, and maybe the 25 years after that, I'll have them perfected. Perhaps by the end of those years, I'll be ready to teach people a thing or two. Or maybe not. We'll see.

Of Faith And Fury

One of my Baha'i friends back in the states recommended a program I hadn't heard of before: Interfaith Explorer.
Clever name, huh?
Anyhow, looking this up, as I sit in the library waiting on a meeting to pop off, I discovered exactly how tech-savvy my fellow Baha'is are. The number of iPhone/iPod/iPad apps one site refers to for the Baha'i faith is off the chain. There had to have been almost 20 there. I'm looking forward to getting home tonight and grabbing up some of those. Obligatory prayers, fasting, Badi calendar, news services, all manner of Baha'i writings and corresponding reading plans, not to mention an application that mocks what I know of the Ocean program- the ability to search all the books of Faith throughout all religions with a few buttons. BRILLIANT!
More soon.

Wonderland Greatness

"I couldn't have written this any more beautifully than it's happening." I told him.

"You need to let go of the pen and let God write it for you." He told me.

I was astounded.

"I just want you to know who you really are, want to help you along your path to greatness." He told me.

These are the things that make me realize that this man was sent to me for a purpose. These are the things he says that make me reel back and realize that I really, really need to be paying attention.

"You're going to be a force once you've gotten your emotions under control."

I mean, really, has this dude only known me since Friday?

I'm not naive enough, at this point in my life, to believe this state of euphoria will last forever. There will, inevitably, be something that comes up, and makes this friendship more of a challenge. It's part of life. At the moment, though, I'm still in shock at all the things he's said that make that dusty little light bulb in the back of my head switch on. He hasn't known me for a week, and he's got the nail on the head.

It's not that there's this wonderful guy in my life that blows me away- though that definitely gives me hope. It's that there's this person who I have just met that sees greatness in me, that sees what I've always hoped/feared all along- that I am not just anybody, and I am not going to have the average, every day type of life. I stand out, as much as a person as a woman. I am strong, and I am not less than others like I've convinced myself. There are people who barely know me who see in me what I've fought seeing myself- the capability to do anything, and God's hand guiding me to accomplish His will. It upsets some people when I say I know why He made me as He did, but... I do. I'm not going to be an astronaut like I'd hoped, hell, being a writer would probably be a stretch at this point. I'm not going to be a famous musician or anything like that... I'm here to help people, and to show them that God and race and all these other things they've been scared to talk about aren't really that scary. I'm here to show people it's okay to open up and talk about these things, because that's the only way we're ever going to heal.

I'm not perfect, I'm not any better than anyone else. I never have been convinced of my own positive qualities, but I have to trust that the things I've been through that have made me this way, were because I needed to be this way. I needed to doubt myself, I needed to have this experience and pain. I needed to feel all of this, so I could help others. This journey has never been about me.

Things right now feel a lot like Wonderland. Everything looks quite familiar, in a very strange and unfamiliar way. The mushrooms are too big, the spirits are too visible, the colors are too vivid, and the path is too close. I am lost in my own Wonderland, staring down a road familiar in a very strange way...

Diggin on you

The retreat was beyond awesome.

Naturally, the people were the best part.

I had my two new cats from work there with me, and one of my brothers, but there was someone else who made it absolutely unforgettable.

Rock Star... "Laying on the rocks, under the stars"....

This man has made all the difference, and I have no doubt why God sent him to me when He did. This guy couldn't have walked into my life at a more perfect time for this.

If he hadn't have been a clown, or hadn't ever questioned aloud why so many religions need clergy, or why people think they need someone between them and God, we might never have gotten so close. He was that guy on the bus with the headphones blasting, he was just rocking out the whole ride, I got the biggest kick out of it. I thought he was a young private, then, though, as he's got a baby face and a laid-back demeanor. He's not, though, and he's more likely to end up as one of my closest friends than I ever could have imagined. Our mutual obsession with music and 3 days of almost non-stop talking- childhood, religion, nature, blood lines, and a billion other things- cemented a life-long friendship, I believe. You're crazy if you think I don't have feelings for someone who I got so close to so fast, but they're mutual, and no labels, no restrictions, no worries seems to be working out surprisingly well for two people who built trust the first day we met one another.

He woke me up to a lot of things about myself that I hadn't realized. I believe in being forgiving, but just in listening to my stories, he pointed out how much I avoided the obvious; just because I don't want to believe people are bad, I let them get away with more than I need to, for starters. He treated me like a princess, and spoiled me rotten- and enjoyed doing it. When Big Brother spoiled me, well, he was my brother, and had known me for a while. This was someone I just met, and he believed whole-heartedly that I deserved to be spoiled and pampered and loved thoroughly. He made a major impression on me, and I'm grateful for the chance to meet such a wonderful person and have him in my life, hopefully for a long, long time.

Work is wearing me out, but I'm doing better sorting it all out, and focusing. Today was incredibly (painfully) productive, and I even managed to get a dental appointment for next week to finally get this tooth sorted out. The Flight Medic packet won't be sent off, now, thanks to the mad shamerai warrior skills of my unit. It's too late for me to get accepted while I'm here, so I'll get that flight physical in the system, and try later, if I choose. I am really considering going occifer, though... The dark side calls!!!!

It's going to be an early bed time for me, tonight, as I want to start getting up earlier. I feel better when I do, and I don't have to rush- cuz Lord knows I suck at trying to do THAT in the morning!

I haven't been praying as much as I should lately, but I try to when I remember. I'm incredibly grateful to God for everything He's showing me right now. Life is beautiful, and I'm grateful for all my blessings right now, to include all the pieces of my trip to Memphis falling together so beautifully. Life is good.

Can ya dig it?

Knew ya could.

Real Crazy

"I hate fake people." He said.

"Well, I may be crazy, but I'm REAL crazy."

I think I coined that.

I leave tomorrow to go on the spiritual retreat. I'm looking forward to it, though more because of who's going with me than anything I know about the actual retreat. I don't trust the weather enough to put much faith in the plans that were made. I know Chap has a direct line- but that doesn't mean Big Guy doesn't have other plans. He knows what He's doing, but it may not involve me getting to take any pretty outdoor pictures.

Two of my company's new guys are going, and one of my buddies is going, too. One of our new guys is from Romania, the other from Haiti. They both have relatively strong accents, and it's hilarious to me that they understand one another better than the rest of us understand either of them half the time. I'm not sure if they've noticed that yet or not, but it's keeping me entertained. They're both really good guys, and I get along with both of them quite well. To be honest, I wish I were going to see more of their experiences in Korea. I won't miss most of this unit, though.

I saw Fred Shafer play tonight, and he was fantastic. His band ("The Minions", we proclaimed them) were absolutely stellar. It's amazing to see a band come here and play and actually WANT to be here. Trapt was amongst the most stuck up, irritating, self-righteous bands I have ever seen in my life. Rob, one of the guitarists, was a good guy, but the rest of them... No, I just didn't want anything to do with people like that, no matter how rich and famous they might be. The guys tonight, though, played for a very small crowd, but they were just SO into it, it blew me away. Music, if used correctly, especially live music, is a truly religious experience. Tonight was like something out of a movie. I was lying on my bed half-dressed in my ACU's trying to convince myself to GET UP and my phone rang. Lady DJ was calling.

"What are you doing?" she asked

"Being lazy." Honest answer.

"Come to hilltop. Great band, and there's no crowd."

"Showering, changing and on my way, I'll post it." I told her, and that was the end of the convo.

Women can be amazingly efficient-and brief- communicators when we need to be.

It was amazing. They were glad to be there, repeatedly thanked US for letting them play for us, and thanked us for our service. It was heartfelt. They were having a great time playing. Fred was dancing, jumping, climbing, wiggling, and almost rolling around the stage. He was awesome. Not a bad looking dude, either. (Just sayin'!)

I sat there, at the front table, surrounded by people I knew (mostly), and we were all singing right along. When they played the Beatles' song "Helter Skelter"... Oh lord. We were all singing at the top of our lungs- especially Lady DJ. Hell, she didn't even wait til Fred was singing it- she was belting it out like it was her show! (Good job, Lady.) :-)

We were all singing that, then they played 'I Get By (With A Little Help From My Friends)' and we were all into that one. It really, truly felt like a movie... It was something else.

All in all, great night, even if I am staying up late to do laundry and pack.

SO WORTH IT!

Oh yeah, going bungee jumping next weekend!

It Don't Get No Better/Single Again

I feel like I'm at that part of the movie where things start making sense.

You know, the part of the plot after that post-obstacle twist that just makes things go from 'Okay, I can handle this...' to 'I quit'.

...And right after that, things change course completely.

The heroine realizes that it wasn't that things were going wrong, it's that she was walking in the wrong direction the whole time.

I still want Flight Medic, but it's not really going to do much for my life. It might make me look good, might help me get promoted and might be a whole lot of fun, but... what about afterwards?

I'm all for enjoying things, but, really, that's a lot of work for something that, well, isn't going to do that much work for me.

When I get to Bliss, I'm going to start school. I need 60 credit hours, I'm told, before I can apply for the Green-to-Gold program and go to school. I want to go to NMSU for nursing, like my Daddy. A friend of mine suggested going PA, but I haven't made up my mind yet. I like the idea of nursing, personally, though I'm not 100% sure why, other than that it's what my Dad does.

The Baha'i faith just continually becomes more intertwined in every part of my life and everything I want to accomplish. I have no doubts at all about this being the right faith for me, and I really wish I knew how to share it more with the people I care about without just shoving their faces in it. It blows me away what a difference this has made for me. I have this worldwide connection to people, I have a greater understanding of everything, and I didn't have to compromise my inherent right to question things for myself or do things my way. I don't doubt there's more conservative Baha'i communities than what I've been exposed to, but, honestly, it's all exactly what I believe in. I feel like a radical conservative... I love the idea of waiting til marriage for sex, I love the idea of being absorbed in this all-encompassing faith, of praying frequently, of meditating, fasting and doing all these traditional things- but I don't believe in doing it quietly. I don't believe in hiding my faith, or keeping it quiet, or even keeping quiet myself. I wear ignorantly bright colors half the time, I have a ton of tattoos, I'm in the Army, I'm ridiculously forward with my thoughts, but I still do everything I'm capable of to maintain the tenets of my faith- and I'm not doing anything wrong by being so "out there" with who I am.

I feel like this is really my time.

Things have been getting rough lately, but I've kept my head above water. I'm getting to the point where I can let things go and not get upset that I can't juggle it all and do everything being asked of me. I'm finally taking care of MYSELF. I love this. It's not all that easy all the time, but so much better than I was, so much farther than I could have dreamt I'd be right now.

Allah'u'Abha

It's beautiful when my Faith seems to be at the center of my whole world, just pulling everything together so beautifully!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So glad to have found my peace once again!

Memphis Love

Since I really started considering it less than 12 hours ago, I have received a great deal of support and encouragement, and the stars seem to be falling in line.

There is a fairly large Baha'i chapter, it seems, in Memphis. I have the support of a number of my friends, though there are a few I want to speak to before it's all set in stone, but... I think I'm going to Memphis. :-)

I'm really excited about this, and I'll finally get to have my adventure!!!

Eccentric Kind Of Perfection

I'm coming up quickly on leave.

I have people all over the country who want to see me- specifically my brother, John, out in Mass, my best friend, Cricket, in Cali (a place I've never been before), and, of course, my folks (Twitchy, Clef, Teal Dragon, and Tumbleweed out in Texas.

I want to see them all, and that makes it very hard to decide on a specific plan of action.

What bugs me the most is that what I really want is to go to Memphis.

I don't have anyone there, and nobody, as far as I can see, would be able to go with me.

Money also may be a small issue, though I'm pretty good, these days, at doing things the cheap way. I don't care if I stay in a cheap hotel (anything with a bathtub, at this point, is high-end to me- sad truth), and I'm not scared of any neighborhoods or anything like that. I'd have to rent a car, too, which would, inevitably be the more expensive part of all of this. What really bugs me, though, is going out there alone. It's not that I mind being alone or that I'm scared- Lordy, after traveling Korea alone for two years, I'm not sure much at all shakes me up, despite the states being frighteningly more dangerous, even for a 'lil white girl'. I just don't care that much for the thought of having an experience I'm looking forward too, well, alone.

Memphis is where I really want to spend those three weeks, even though I really miss my people.

*sigh*

The Juice

I remember a night I drank a fifth of Jack Daniels.

I wanted to sleep without the nightmares, so I took benedryl with it.

I don't remember how much benedryl, I just know I woke up with an empty bottle and an empty blister pack next to me.

Tonight, I remember that feeling.

I spent much of my day today crying.

Happy Mother's Day.

Astaria would be nine years old now, and it breaks my heart not to have anything to show for that ill-gotten pregnancy. Regardless of the circumstances, she was mine. Now, I suppose, she is my angel, though it was sometime a few years ago I recall feeling that my angels had seen it reasonable to let me on my own for a while. I don't know that they've been around since, but the sporadic, brief moment of something-more-than-intuition that hits now and again.

It's 3:30 in the morning, and my alarm will be going off in two hours.

I have struggled with sleep lately- thank you, stress- but I think tonight would have been easier had my roommate not come back. I don't do well at all sharing sleeping quarters with anyone. It causes a whole lot more stress for me, and makes me very, very uncomfortable, and extremely anxious. Some people, I don't mind sharing space with and, for some reason, I adapt more quickly to sharing space with a number of people (like the 40 man bay I was in) than I do with just one person. It's too personal this way, I suppose. I don't want anyone to be that close to me or my things, and I don't trust people easily or much. I've asked my leadership multiple times for their help on this, but, alas, nothing happened. I gave up.

Tomorrow, once again, back to work. This weekend has been beyond miserable for me, and not in the least bit productive. I just want space and time right now, room to take care of myself, but I am not allowed that. I am sure tomorrow will go badly, as my room is a complete disaster of epic proportions, and I have given in to the medication two hours before I needed to be up. I hate medication.

The miserable, terrified thoughts running through my head make things no better, and I am scared, even, to pray, for my faith has become damp after the pain of the recent days. I have strong faith in my God, but very little in myself. I do not want Him to see me like this, which is ironic, I know.

I am depressed, I know this. When will I be allowed to heal?

I am overwhelmed. When will I have a moment to take a step back so that I might take a step forward?

Recovery?

It's been more than a year since drank.

Right now, the urge is painful.

I am fighting depression as I grieve the loss of a relationship that, in all reality, was a complete accident and never should have happened. Love is not a voluntary thing.

So, I deal with my pain and grief, as silently as possible, wishing someone would come rescue me from it, but knowing full well that only time will be able to heal this wound. I hate this fact nearly as much as I hate knowing it is a fact. My heart is completely broken. Accidental though it was, I have never loved anyone so completely, nor has the end of any relationship ever hurt me so thoroughly. Despite it's inevitability, it's torn me apart.

I've been struggling to get out of bed, forcing myself to eat even once a day, and being so grateful for those rare hours when I am so busy I forget to cry. Being around people makes it worse, and it seems there's no place at all that doesn't bring on memories. I just want to be alone, to have time to myself, and to grieve in private, but it's back to work tomorrow, because my leadership is without spine. I just came out of the field, and all I want is some time to heal and to reorganize my life. It doesn't seem as though I stand a chance of getting that, though.

Prayer meeting, the one thing I was looking forward to this week, was cancelled, as one of my fellow Baha'is fell ill.

I am thoroughly miserable.

Heartbreak Funk

I can't stop crying. I miss him so much.

He was never really mine, how did I fall in love with him?

I can't figure out when it happened or how, exactly, but at some point he was no longer just my best friend. I loved him in a way I don't think I've ever understood was possible. I couldn't leave him alone. I knew it would end in heartbreak, I knew it wasn't meant to be, there were way too many reasons it was a horrible idea, but I couldn't let go of him.

This was never supposed to happen. He was just my friend, he was just being there for me when I needed someone...

I didn't know a broken heart could hurt so bad. I've always been able to just shut it off when I wanted to, but there's no dropping it this time. I just want him with me. It's never hurt like this before. Going through the divorce didn't hurt like this.

I got out of bed long enough to shower today, and ended up right back in bed. I haven't eaten, and I can't even make it all the way through getting dressed... I think one of my big brothers is about to come bang on my door n yell at me for not answering his text messages... I don't know, I really don't want anyone to see me like this... I'm so pathetic. I have 'Anything but mine' By Kenny Chesney playing on repeat, and I'm sitting here crying into his sweatshirt... I'm pathetic, and there's nothing I can do about it.

Missing The Mark

So, Baha'u'llah told us that God views creative action as equal to prayer.

Once again, I find myself so ashamed of being absorbed in my self-pity, I'm struggling with the thought of turning to my Father to tell him what's on my mind.

So, here's the creative equivalent.

I am drowned in my own darkness right now, so I look outside myself for inspiration- and I found it.

K'naan is a young man from Somalia, and a Muslim, according to the Wikipedia article. He's someone who's absolutely fascinated me on a number of levels since the moment I first heard his voice. He's an incredible artist. I suppose his music would probably fall under the hip hop label fairly easily, but, after hearing the strength in his words, the lack of violence, hate, or anger, I can't help but think we may need an alternative name. So much hip hop focuses on ego and gang/sex/alcohol culture. This music sounds almost religious with it's message of strength and survival.

I have been trying to stop swearing, and had promised myself one night that, before I PCS in July, I will have reached this goal. Listening to this music, so REAL, so overwhelming, and not a vulgar phrase to be found, makes me see how much more necessary and reasonable this goal is. I overheard a conversation in the latrine out at Warrior Base the other day, and it was two women (of course, what would I be doing in the men's latrine?!) discussing vulgarity. Swearing has never bothered me much, though there have been times I really shied away from it. These women spoke about it for a while, saying it didn't "offend" them, but that neither of them swore, and they quickly came to the conclusion that they both avoided it for the same reason: it did not add to their point or words, it detracted. It was extra, they agreed, something unnecessary and often representing a lack of forethought or confidence of the speaker.

Well, it makes sense, doesn't it?

I can't recall if I made the vow to myself before or after overhearing this conversation, but I do recall that they were not linked thoughts.

I have so many things going on in my head... I read a blog earlier, I fail to recall where, but it was one of the many anti-racism blogs I read, and it was putting down Lady Gaga. I'm not a huge Gaga fan, to be upfront with you, as she just seems like she's fighting a little too hard for that limelight to belong in it, but the reason they were putting her down was what really, really bothered me. They very eloquently, and with collaboration from a few big names, said she was trying to act black, and behave as though she knew what it was like to be a minority.

....Wait, what?

Aren't stereotypes what we're trying to fight here? How are you saying she's stealing from your culture while being upset at people for labeling it your culture? Look, maybe this is another "White Girl Fail" on my part, but that doesn't make a lick of sense to me. I'm not going to say everyone who's ever tried to absorb parts of cultures not their native has done it gracefully, hell, sometimes they wound up being so offensive in this attempt that they completely screwed up any hope they ever had of being deemed less than racist when their intent was the opposite, but, well, I don't personally care if someone wants to adopt parts of my Native heritage, or Gypsy heritage, or European or Irish heritage, if it's something that calls out to them. If I get told one more time that I'm not supposed to do something or behave some way because I'm a white girl (for the record, I do not identify as white) I may truly snap. I understand there are still some wounds that haven't healed, but the majority of folks are not trying to 'steal' anything. There are racist people out there, and I understand that, but not all of them are white folks. When I'm pushed out of the way by a Black woman so that she can hand a flyer for a children's charity to the Black man I walked into the store with, and she has nothing to say when I tell him, in front of her that my money must not be good enough, well, tell me how that's not racist. I don't believe in REVERSE racism. Racism is a steady river- it does not just change direction with the tide like the ocean- it is still racism, no matter who is at which end of it. If you want to have a real conversation with me about race, I'm all ears. Just understand that I will not disrespect you, and I expect you to have the same bearing. I will never tell anyone just to 'get over it' because I understand how deeply the wounds of racism can hurt, though I don't pretend to know what it's like to be someone born into a family who has experienced racism for generations. I have no doubt that this is a wound much deeper than my own. My parents never spoke to me of racism, because they appear as any other 'white' folks, and grew up in the Northeast, where their race is hardly unusual. I was born in Las Cruces, New Mexico. Both Apaches and Mexicans looked down upon me for what 'my people' did to theirs. To be stabbed by someone I'd known since Kindergarten simply for being white, to be told by a boy that he couldn't ever like me because his mom would be very mad if he liked a white girl, to grow up knowing many of the holidays and discussions were ones I was not privy to was something that I took as being the way it was for people like me.

I'm not playing the Oppression Olympics here- I do not intend to compare my experiences with anyone else in a way to say that I have had it worse than anyone. I am simply frustrated at my experiences, at my feelings being invalidated by folks because I must not understand. I am tired of keeping my mouth shut at work about music, food, almost everything, because at least one person in my office will, at a minimum, look at me like I've lost my mind for putting my two cents in on anything that 'belongs to their culture'. I am not Black, nor am I Hispanic, Jamaican, Dominican, Haitian... I don't claim to have the same genes as you. I do, however, like the same music, and many of the religions and cultures around the world have fascinated me enough that I know a great deal more than folks expect me to. I am not allowed, though, to ask a fellow Soldier if they have heard of a hip hop artist that I recently stumbled across if they are Black because I am 'white' and must be disrespecting them and doubting their knowledge of "their music". I can't comment on a song by a Black artist without being immediately asked if I even know the artist's name, or ethnicity, etc. Fighting just not to be labeled or prejudged is, apparently, a losing battle for the "White Girl".

I was blessed enough, while I was in the field, to be asked about my faith a few times. While it never launched into a major conversation on it, I was grateful even to be able to spread awareness about a Faith so quietly observed, and so rarely mentioned. Many Baha'is are afraid to appear pushy about our faith, and understandably so. Religion has a history of forcing itself on others. The Baha'i faith is about 150 years old, I believe, and has yet to become a 'force' of any sort, something I am truly proud of. I'd much rather see someone happy and contributing to their communities in a positive way but without believing much of anything specific than someone who feels the need to preach and lecture to their peers about their faith and what they must do to be right. Do I think most people would be happier if they believed what I do in the way that I do? I don't have a doubt about it. I have been so much stronger, so much happier since I found a faith that allows me to question and educate myself, and still believes I should be holding myself to only the highest standards. My best qualities are fortified by my faith, because it's so plain for me to see why I have been created as I have now that I see so much more. I really hope I am around to see the later stages of the age known as Entry By Troops, where more and more people become Baha'i, where it becomes more and more apparent to the whole world what this faith means... I think the world will become a more and more beautiful place as people flock to the ideas of unity and community service, of equality, of friendship and respect. I already see the changes in the world for the better- I have since before I was a Baha'i- the awareness of what we must do to improve our world is growing at a startling rate, awareness of injustices and problems in the world is a daily discussion for so many now. We're learning. Whether you are Baha'i, Buddhist, Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Confucian, or Christian Scientologist is of no mind to me, so long as you love your brother as yourself.

So many things rattling around in my brain right now....

Gone Skippy

I spent a week and a half in the field playing Army, though it would have been 2 weeks and ended with me being pinned with a prestigious badge if I'd had the proper training. I caught a cold from one of the 39 people I shared living quarters with during that time. I got back to my base around 1930 this evening, only to be told that I would be required to be at work the next day. No recovery time. I am, needless to say, very unhappy about this. My head is sore from my sinuses being clogged, and I am too miserable to sleep, but will surely sleep through work if I take anything for it. The dental issue my leadership promised me would be taken care of while I was there was not even attempted, and, therefor, Flight Medic is, once again, on hold, thanks to my chain of command. I don't know when I'll have time to do laundry or clean up all my gear from the field, or when I'll be able to have my tooth properly taken care of. I don't know when I'll feel better, either. A number of issues arose while I was in the field, mostly emotional side-bars which left me upset but, essentially, out of control. I have been praying a lot, and it's helped, but things continue to hurt, as they tend to. Between blisters, abrasions, the "dog pound flu" and my tooth, I am pretty miserable physically right now.

I was in a very upbeat mood, especially considering all I've been dealing with, until I was informed that our unit is not giving me any recovery time. Other Soldiers from other companies had a minimum of one day, if not two or three, and all got four-day-passes for use at a later date. I am frustrated, but can't help but remember the last time I took anything into my own hands and later being told I 'threw my leadership under the bus'. I am tired, I am cranky, and I am not thrilled at the prospect of getting up early to deal with the BS of the same people who refuse to look out for me, or flat-out lie about my needs being met. I haven't had privacy in nearly 2 weeks, and all I want is some alone time to take care of my own needs.