Wednesday, December 31, 2008
When I grow up these are the two pets I want. The cat is a Russian Blue. (Badelaar was this breed of cat and he was so sweet. Also, very beautiful.)
The dog is a Vizsla. They're medium sized, about like a lab. Not a biting type of dog, and also very sweet.
I do want some pets. If any of you hear about someone who has Russian Blue Kittens, or Vizsla Puppies, please let me know. I'll even set aside some money in my budget for them.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
I stood there, hair still slowly growing back in from my tussle with the clippers. The locker door was open and in the mirror I could see Neil walking up behind me. I tried not to hope because hope hurts like hell. I suddenly realized that he called my name.
When I turned around he was standing there with a bouquet of purple and yellow irises--my favorite flower (he must have done some asking around to figure that out, boys usually just bring the old stand by: roses). "I can't believe I never saw you before," he started, "I must have been blind." He handed me the flowers and I smiled. It was the beginning of a new life for me.
At least it would have been if Disney were in charge of writing my life. Disney hasn't written any of my life. Edward Gorey, maybe. A chapter or two by Tim Burton. But never, ever Disney. The real story went exactly like this:
I stood there, hair still slowly growing back in from my tussle with the clippers. Bits of it stuck out randomly in protest to having been shaved off in the first place. As I applied the newest layer of Dr. Pepper flavored LipSmackers lip gloss, in the mirror I could see Neil walking up behind me.
Then he walked on by as he had always done in the past. I smiled to myself. The thing is we all have types. Sometimes girls are willing to go "outside the box" and date someone a little different from her type, but I have yet to find a successful way to get a guy to do that. And if you're not his type in the first place he won't see you. No matter how many "and they lived happily ever afters" get shoved down our throats, if you're not his type he won't see you in the second place either.
So, Neil walked past me and I closed my locker door. I put a little bit of lip gloss on my fingers and ran it over the gnarliest cowlick on my head just to make sure it would stick up a little more fiercely. Then, I smiled to myself. I didn't win his heart. I may never win any guy's heart. But right now I had lip gloss in my hair and I was happy.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
I was lying in bed singing to myself the song that starts: Hush little baby don't say a word, Poppa's gonna buy you a mocking bird. After singing about the bird, the diamond ring, and the silver mine, I realized I had absolutely NO IDEA what came next. So I made it into a game with one rule. No matter what I came up with, I had to rhyme it.
Here is my favorite verse:
...Poppa's gonna buy you a corner of Iraq. If Iraq gets conquered by insurgents, Poppa's gonna buy some Surf Laundry Detergent. If that detergent don't get you clean, Poppa's gonna buy a nuclear submarine.
At this point I started laughing right out loud. It was late, I was goofy and making myself laugh. I wondered who could possibly understand the joy I found in that. I'm posting it here to see if any of the rest of you find it as funny as I did.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
What do I really need?
- I need a hug.
- I need my Mom.
- I need my Dad.
- I need my family.
- I need you, my friend.
- I need to feel important to you because you are SO important to me.
- I need to feel loved by you because I love you SO much.
Who are you?
Sunday, November 30, 2008
I had a dream last night in which I was once again fighting the battle between good and evil. However, this time I didn’t get to the end of the fight because I was kidnapped by the evil side. He kidnapped me because he was in love with me. I didn’t mind being kidnapped because someone loved me. It was beautiful. Up to a point. Whenever I have dreams about someone being in love with me it always ends up that he disappears. Yep. Here is someone who finally falls in love with me enough to kidnap me to the evil side, but then, he disappears.
A bunch of times in dreams I’ve been sitting next to an empty chair telling everyone how much “he” loves me. I point to the empty chair and although my heart knows the chair is empty; my mind is trying so hard to convince those in my dream staring at the chair that there really is someone who would choose me from the crowd. The chair is empty. Always empty.
It’s so cruel that even my subconscious won’t even let me be loved.
Speaking of empty chairs…my friend Gregg will be leaving in December to go to a job in Reno. That means that there will be an empty chair on my left during church every Sunday. I’ll be taking applications, essays, and letters of recommendation for the next few weeks. Ben Stellmon is the current front runner, but he’ll only be sitting there part time, so that means there is still a slot. Then, when Dan leaves in May, there’ll be another slot. But I’m not talking about that right now.
Oh, and to top it all off…my dreams of NOT love, friends leaving, and all…my haircut is age appropriate and I feel old because of it. I have only two choices, wait until it grows or cut it off. Any suggestions?
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Once in a while, I don't sleep. I lie there thinking thoughts that are better left un-thought. Tonight I decided I was going to think of the cruelest thing that exists on the earth. War, Poverty, Apathy, Famine. Pol Pot, Pinochet, Milošević, Nazis. Greed, Hatred, Torture, Disease. I thought of it all. Then in my addlepated mind I decided that the cruelest thing on earth today is Love.
All the other things I mentioned are done out of self-serving motives, but love: love is cruelest of all. Love destroys us piece by piece and seems so gleefully to enjoy the journey. Imagine a mother in a country dying of famine...the mother loves her child but has to watch that child die simply because there is nothing she can do. It is not the lack of food that does her in, it is her Love that destroys her.
Hatred kills the physical body, but love kills bits of us and we are expected to keep on living with scar on top of scar on top of scar and never find reprieve in the quietness of death that simple hatred can bring. Think of disease as it ravages a loved one's body. The disease is not malicious, its motive is quite simple. Then think of the horrors in life that are done in the name of love. What are the motives then?
Death will wrench a loved one out of our sight but it is our love for that person that continues to torture us in their absence. Our love for them causes us to shed tears. It is not the death we mourn, but the Love.
Someone offers us Love and we won't accept it. Because we know that love equals pain. Here are some questions for you: Why do we spend so much time trying to get the people we love to hate us as much as we hate ourselves? Why can't we accept that someone loving us RIGHT NOW gives us a clean slate? Who doesn't want a new starting place? But instead of accepting it and embracing it we feel we must "confess" to the one who loves us all of our past wrongs so that they too will look at us with the loathing we feel for ourselves. Even if we find someone truly magnanimous, will we accept it? No. We hate ourselves too much to accept that anyone could possibly love us and we sabotage ourselves.
Love binds us to places we don't want to be. Love sneaks up when we don't want it. It tears us down when we thought we couldn't get any lower. We cry over Love and think we're done only to discover that the thing we've cried over can hurt us in new and exciting ways over and over and over again--always thinking of new tactics; disguising itself so we let it in again only to have it rip us to shreds devouring the same scars it caused the first time. We think we've no more tears left to shed, but Love will prove us wrong and the floodgates will open and our faces will soak in the only true product of Love.
I would really like to sleep right now. I would really like to escape into the oblivion of unconsciousness. But my heart is broken and Love is cruelly keeping me awake because Love loves nothing more than watching us bathe in sorrows it brings.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
About two weeks before my birthday arrived I started loosing the joy I usually have. I don't know why. I think mostly it was the feeling of impending doom. Either that or "Open Wide" Wednesday the 5th where I had a Doctor's Appointment and a Dentist appointment in the same day. Not pleasant. Anyway, come the day of my birthday the joy returned.
Dan took me to Smoky Mountain Pizza and gave me three presents! I was truly spoiled. He gave me a pair of wool socks which I need to wear inside my winter boots, a Serenity graphic novel--AWESOME, and a "Whack a Zombie" that you can see in the photo. He also had set up cake at Kylie's house. You know, for a guy who hates celebrating birthdays, he did a GREAT job for me because he knows how much I love my birthday. (Oh, we must not forget that at Dan's radio show he played The Smiths "Unhappy Birthday" for me over the airwaves! "I've come to wish you an unhappy birthday, 'cuz you're evil and you lied and if you should die I might feel slightly sad, but I won't cry.")
My family called and sang to me, which cracked me up. Mom sent me a t-shirt that reads: It's funny how you think I'm listening! Mom knows me so well. I've had a wonderful week.
Thank you Dan, Mom, Family, John, Colt, all those who wished me a happy birthday, and to Dan (again) for stepping out of your comfort zone to make my day (week!!) a memorable one.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Hello Everyone! Here is the cover of my newest zine. It's a guide for urban gardeners on which herbs will grow well in pots. It has a couple of recipes, but mostly it's about growing from a seed and what to do with it when it's ready to harvest. If you're interested send a trade, Mix CD, or a $1.00 to me at:
PO BOX 8891
Moscow, ID 83843
Or, if you're a member of the Carrot Row Distro, you can order it from Dan.
Have a GREAT day and have fun growing!!
Saturday, October 18, 2008
I want to cry out for help, but I don't know who to turn to. People get tired of helping someone with a mental problem. They'd rather I just "get better." But, I can't. Think of it as a brain tumor. A problem in my brain that I can't fix. People don't expect someone to fix a tumor, but they do expect a depressed person to "fix" themselves. People want me to be "fixed." But I can do nothing about my situation any more than someone with a tumor can.
Please, I beg of all of you, try to understand. I don't do any of this to try to get sympathy. I don't do this to get attention. If I could change it, if I could have a NORMAL brain I would do it in a moment. If I could get my brain to stop screaming...if I could just be normal I would. I can't change it though. What I need is someone to understand that I have a disease. I can not fix myself. I don't want sympathy. I do need help.
Friday, October 10, 2008
My Boss sent me this link:
It's AWESOME! It asks you to choose which statement you most agree with and then it shows you whose political standings you agree with between Obama and McCain. I took the test and of course my ideas totally lined up with my choice for president. But it was interesting to take nonetheless. Everyone...take a minute to check this out! It's worth the time.
Monday, October 06, 2008
As many of you know, I have the craziest dreams. This one was ice cream induced. I'm sure of it. I've been me for a while now and I now that THE WORST thing for me to eat before I go to bed is ice cream. But it was Jamilee's birthday. What could I do. Anyway...
In my dream I was incredibly talented. First of all, I was an assassin. A very good one. A very highly paid one. But I dressed like a hippie. Long skirts. Ratty hair. All that. It was glorious.
A bit later in my dream I also learned that I was a prostitute. A very good one. A very highly paid one. Still dressed like a hippie.
There was a family in distress. They looked like they needed help, so I jumped in. They had a landlord who was threatening to kick them out if they didn't pay him more money than was necessary. I decided to dispatch him for them. However...
Before I left one of the teen aged girls asked me how she could get into the business.
"Assassin?" I asked.
But she wanted in the other business. I told her; safety first. I directed her to the home of a wizard who could help her as he had helped me. My secret talent to protect myself...the wizard gave me power to change myself into a Pit bull. Any customers get rough, I turn into a Pit bull and tear out their throats.
Ice cream induced? Certainly.
Revealing of inner parts of me? Most probably.
Do I want to know what it reveals? No...my subconscious is hiding it for a reason.
Whatever you do, don't tell Freud.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
This is why I must sleep in my own bed. This is actually what it looked like when I got up this morning. Pillows sliding down between the bed and the wall. Eddie-Phil perched atop a pillow. The blanket that was ON TOP is now a blue and purple blob in the upper corner. The blanket (sheet in there somewhere) that was over me now in a bundle on the side.
Eddie-Phil is lucky to have survived.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
These are some more of my zines. The "Environmental Imp Pack" are still available and are $2.00 each, or a good trade. "Punkman" is also $2.00 and is a full color comic I made based on my most awesome friend Dan Murphy.
"The Sixth Minky's Guide to Vampires" is my newest zine. It's $1.00 or a trade.
Coming up next are "The Sixth Minky's Guide to Zombies" and a Guide to growing cooking herbs in pots for you urban gardeners! (Both are $1.00)
If you're interested in any of these write to me:
PO BOX 8891
Moscow, ID 83843
When I finish those two zines I'm working on, that means by the time I reach my two year anniversary of having made zines I'll have a total of 21 zines done! Yes, it's true. I'm awesome.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Here are some of my zines that I've made over the last couple of years. There are 12 issues of "The Sixth Minky" (Some of the covers are pretty much like the other ones.)
"Seeds of Me" is kind of an art zine and right now there is only one issue of that.
"Welcome to Moscow" was a zine I made for swapbot.
I've been making zines for two years now. I think. I don't keep track of time very well.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Thursday, August 14, 2008
By Regina Spektor
I must go on standing
You can't break that which isn't yours
I, oh, must go on standing
I'm not my own, it's not my choice
Be afraid of the lame
They'll inherit your legs
Be afraid of the old
They'll inherit your souls
Be afraid of the cold
They'll inherit your blood
Apres moi, le deluge
After me comes the flood
I must go on standing
You can't break that which isn't yours
I, oh, must go on standing
I'm not my own, it's not my choice
[* Words from a poem by Boris Pasternak. English translation:
February. Get ink, shed tears.
Write of it, sob your heart out, sing,
While torrential slush that roars
Burns in the blackness of the spring.]
I must go on standing
You can't break that which isn't yours
I, oh, must go on standing
I'm not my own, it's not my choice
This is my newest theme song. I haven't recovered from the guy that left me for a hula dancer.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I'm being my own interpretation of the painting by Magritte." He said.
We had a great time together. He made me laugh and we thoroughly enjoyed each other's company. I was so very happy.
At the end of the dream, he left me for a flat-chested brunette who could hula.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Thursday, July 17, 2008
1. I have short tendons in my arms & hands, & can't straighten them out.
2. I really hate washing dishes.
3. I’m really OCD about what can/can't touch my hands.
4. I can recite the alphabet backwards.
5. I am afraid of horses.
6. I am afraid of big dogs.
7. I have no desire to swim in the ocean.
8. I hate sour things.
9. I was almost named Nichole.
10. More foreigners than Americans have asked me out on dates.
11. I really hate Republicans.
12. I collect bookmarks.
13. I really, truly, honestly hate bugs.
14. I want a pet Chihuahua.
15. Once a year I eat a hamburger, remember how gross it is, & then don’t eat one again for another year.
16. I thought by this age, I’d be married and have five kids. I'm still keen on the married bit, but five kids is WAY too many.
17. I love shopping online.
18. I don’t like Christmas shopping or Christmas decorations. I especially don't like Christmas Music
19. I can't fall asleep if my toes are cold.
20. I’ve had lots of crushes in my life, but two of them have stuck over time: DPR and DLM. If either of them decided that they were truly in love with me, they'd get a second chance.
21. Last time I got my heart broken I cried for three days.
22. I don’t let myself cry because no one ever comes to the aid of the “big” girl. Ever.
23. It is more likely that an alien will come down and steal my brain then a man will ever carry me through a puddle.
24. I hate being this tall. In my mind I'm a petite Chinese girl with hair so black it's almost blue.
25. Mint should only be used for things like toothpaste.
26. I can bake, but I can’t cook.
27. I don’t want to learn to cook.
28. I was a vegetarian for 1-½ years. I’m still REALLY picky about meat and don’t eat it often…however I can’t say I’m a vegetarian.
29. I believe that love is the simple day-to-day stuff that you handle together.
30. I believe trees have spirits & are here to remind us to slow down.
31. I don’t really like to drive.
32. Sometimes I think farts are funny.
33. The only sport I really like to play is baseball.
34. I love my skateboard but I’m REALLY scared to go fast.
35. I have been struggling with depression since I was a teenager.
36. I don’t like most girls. If you’re a girl and you’re my friend, you should know you have something special about you.
37. I don’t like pizza sauce.
38. I love teaching.
39. I love word puzzles.
40. I’m afraid of heights.
41. My favorite food is breakfast cereal.
42. I’d like dressing up more if girl clothes came in my size.
43. I never make my bed until it’s so beyond hope that I absolutely have to make it.
44. I like monkeys and would like to spend some time being one.
45. If I had money I’d spend two or three years in Borneo helping the orangutans.
46. There is nothing more I want out of life than to be someone’s love.
47. I REALLY like spicy food.
48. I like to observe people.
49. I hate talking on the phone (to order pizza... whatever) but I do like talking to friends.
50. I LOVE getting things in the mail.
51. I am mildly dyslexic.
52. I hate loud noises. (Or repetitive noises…my brain starts to scream at those kinds of things, that’s why I don’t like “noise” music.)
53. I hate being alone during a thunderstorm.
54. I cannot wear flip-flops or things that separate my toes…it makes my brain scream.
55. Sometimes my brain screams.
56. I have a fear of abandonment. (“He who is without sin may cast the first stone” here, eh!)
57. I think fish are the world’s most boring pets.
58. I think mayonnaise is gross. So is ketchup.
59. I can’t sleep unless the room is pitch black. I even put all my electronics on power strips and turn them off so the little red lights don’t keep me awake.
60. I like things that challenge my brain.
61. I want to live in a big city above a bookstore and never have to own a car again.
62. I think I could sing pretty well if I gave myself half a chance.
63. One of the best things in the whole world is sleeping in clean sheets just off the line.
64. I hate seafood.
65. I have plantar fasciitis.
66. My writing bump is on my ring finger.
67. I don’t like to visit Dad’s grave. I’d rather talk to him when I am surrounded by trees or see a pretty little bird.
68. When Mom dies, I want to be close behind her.
69. I’m still waiting for someone to rescue me.
70. People falling down on “America’s Funniest Videos” crack me up!
71. I am very claustrophobic.
72. In my opinion the worst way to die is drowning.
73. I slept one night on the streets in London.
74. I hate camping, but I’d go with a guy if he invited me.
75. I can talk to anyone.
76. I’m very choosy about who gets to be close enough to me to be called friends.
77. I’d rather make friends with boys than girls because girls have always been very mean to me.
78. I like to stay up late and sleep in late, but life rarely lets me do that.
79. I get my best ideas as I’m falling asleep—so I’ll get up and write them, do them, or write myself a note to do it!
80. I love my dreams. They’re INSANE.
81. Sometimes I think I’m insane.
82. I love thrift store shopping.
83. I wish my boobs were one cup size smaller so my t-shirts would look smoother!
84. The thing I find most attractive in a man is his kindness.
85. I can’t go to sleep until after I’ve brushed and flossed. If I try to go to sleep first, I’ll wake up in the middle of the night to do it!
86. I’ve had two really weird, unexplained illnesses. 1) I got really dizzy and puked a bunch of times and had to get a shot in my butt, however, they never knew what was wrong with me and 2) I went to sleep on Saturday night and woke up Monday morning. I didn’t get up to pee, or eat or anything. Mom said I had a really high fever, but I don’t remember any of it.
87. I wanted to go to Russia on my mission. Not France.
88. The entire purpose of my mission (in my opinion) was that I was supposed to reconnect with Daniel R.
89. I bring snacks to church.
90. I love reading/watching Sci-Fi and Fantasy.
91. I hate romance type stories unless Jane Austen writes them.
92. I can’t hear very well in my left ear.
93. I think Goran Visnjic is the epitome of handsome.
94. I am allergic to walnuts and raw onions. (And I can’t wear metal jewelry unless it’s real like gold or silver.)
95. I don’t want a wedding ring.
96. I really love chocolate chip cookies.
97. I hate it when someone talks to me when I first wake up. I like to be awake for about ten/fifteen minutes before someone talks to me.
98. I don’t concentrate well…on anything.
99. I like cloudy/rainy days better than sunshine days.
100. I love walking in rain.
101. I often contradict myself.
Monday, July 07, 2008
by Kate Nash
All I know is that you're so nice
You're the nicest thing I've seen
I wish that we could give it a go
See if we could be something
I wish I was your favourite girl
I wish you thought I was the reason you are in the world
I wish my smile was your favourite kind of smile
I wish the way that I dressed was your favourite kind of style
I wish you couldn't figure me out
But you always wanna know what I was about
I wish you'd hold my hand
When I was upset
I wish you'd never forget
The look on my face when we first met
I wish you had a favourite beauty spot
That you loved secretly
'Cause it was on a hidden bit
That nobody else could see
Basically, I wish that you loved me
I wish that you needed me
I wish that you knew when I said two sugars,
Actually I meant three
I wish that without me your heart would break
I wish that without me you'd be spending the rest of your nights awake
I wish that without me you couldn't eat
I wish I was the last thing on your mind before you went to sleep
Look, all I know is that you're the nicest thing I've ever seen
And I wish that we could see if we could be something
Yeah I wish that we could see if we could be something
Sunday, July 06, 2008
The zine is full color and has artwork by me (drawings or altered images from a Google search). It is $2.00 or a trade (trades can include your own zine, a mix CD, or some stickers or whatever you think is cool.)
PO BOX 8891
Moscow, ID 83843
or if your a Carrot Row enthusiast, you can order from Dan!
Whatever happens, just don't let capitalism get you down!
Thursday, July 03, 2008
One of the consequences of being human is that we inevitably need other human beings. I have come to terms with that. I need other people. I get energy from other people. I don't like that I need other people, but I have at least accepted that I do.
Many times I reach out in a small way for someone to need me back. Many times those attempts are left unnoticed or if noticed, unattended. I know that there are people who don't want to be needed. I try not to ask too much of them.
Tonight I am feeling so very unneeded. I need someone to step up and listen to me, but more than that, I need someone to need me around. It does not matter, however, tomorrow will come and I will try again.
Friday, June 20, 2008
My brother posted a poem "Bad Guy Things" on his blog. My brother is a GREAT writer. I pale in comparison to his talents. Really. You should read his stuff. Follow the link to Mr. Fweem's Blog. That's him.
Anyway, Brian posted a poem, so I'm going to, too. This is my newest poem.
99% Truth, 1% Polysorbate-80
by Maaike Davidson
“Have you met the man of your dreams, yet?” He asked.
Stupid-ass man. He was the man of my dreams.
“I just keep thinking about what might have been.” He said.
Stupid-ass man. He always forgets that I’m hoping for the present.
Neither one of them are right.
Stupid-ass man that I’m looking for has blue eyes.
“How do you know that?” You ask.
Stupid-ass question. I know because of Poly.
Saturday, June 07, 2008
Also, I have my Environmental Imp Pack Zines for sale. One is about recycling and Two is about organic farming/sustainability etc. Three will be about orangutans once I get to making it! These are full color and are $2.00 each. Or for trade for your zine or a CD mix or something.
You can order by email or drop me a line at:
PO Box 8891
Moscow, ID 83843
Saturday, May 31, 2008
One night I voiced my concern to my Mom and my brother Randy. Randy told me that the vampires have to be invited in and I said I was worried that the "welcome" at the door could be considered an invitation. Mom said that I should get a cross and a wooden stake and leave them outside the door so that the vampires would know that I was prepared for them. Both of them continued to give me preventative measures I could take to keep the vampires out.
Suddenly I started laughing. "I love my family," I said. "I tell you that I'm worried that vampires will come in my house and you both just tell me ways to keep them out. Neither one of you said that vampires don't exist!"
"Would it have done any good?" Asked Mom.
No. That's true. But, just so you'll know, here's a photo of my welcome mat:
Friday, May 16, 2008
I was thinking the other day about dressing up. Not in a costume, but in nice girl clothes more appropriate to my age.
But you see, there's a problem. I'm nearly six foot tall. Girl clothes are designed for women who are much shorter than that. When I dress up I feel like a man in drag. (Thus explaining the "Priscilla Queen of the Desert" photo.) My shoulders are broad, not narrow. My hips are boys hips and I walk like my brothers.
I do have a pretty smile and girly hands, but other than that I feel that nothing about me is feminine. I had to ask a friend--when I was 22 years old--how to put make up on because I didn't know how to. I don't know how to walk in girl shoes, besides, I have so many problems with my feet that I have to wear inserts in my shoes. I keep hoping that someone will look past my inability to be feminine and love me anyway.
Kelly Q. wants me to write from my fears. Okay. Here is my greatest fear: I am afraid I am going to spend my life alone.
I can't figure out what's wrong with me. I have a lot of friends that are guys, but they don't want to date me. They love me. They want me to be around. But something is wrong with me that makes them never want to get closer.
I have tried to be feminine. I have been thin with long hair (which is what men are supposed to like, right?) but I don't want to be looked at as a sexual object. I really don't. I want to be LOVED. I want to spend my life with someone who is interesting and exciting even after I've known him for sixty years.
I have tried to ask what's wrong with me, but NO ONE will tell me. How can I fix it if no one will tell me what I'm doing wrong.
I don't want to spend my life alone, I really don't. But what can I expect if I look like a man in drag?
Friday, May 09, 2008
To celebrate, I went to Good Will and bought myself a six dollar pair of shoes. I wanted to throw myself a party, I mean, a Masters degree! That's a hell of a lot of work and deserves some praise, right? Well, my friends and I are all really poor so I celebrated with used shoes and a queso burrito from Qdoba. We all celebrate our own ways.
Now I'm going to sleep for a week.
And try to catch up with everyone I left at the side. That is if 1) you remember me and 2) you'll forgive me for my lack of communication!!
Well, that's all. My sleeping week is starting now!
Saturday, April 19, 2008
I heard him and saw him just in time.
We looked at each other and for a while we just stared.
"Hi Dad." I said as he hopped down the branch.
He cocked his head to one side to look at me.
"I miss you," I said smiling to him waiting to hear his song again.
The bird hopped down the tree branch and didn't sing again while I waited.
I smiled and hoped someone would come by so I could share this moment with them.
No one came.
"Daddy, I have no one to share with."
This morning I heard a red finch sing.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
New Works Festival is OVER! It's been part of my life since last December and I'm glad it's done. So nice to have the props put back in the closets. HOORAY!
My show was pretty successful and I'm happy with what I learned from it. Kylie brought me flowers--she remembered that my favorites are purple and yellow irises! She did have to look at a couple of stores to find them, though.
Now, my new adventure is actually being in a play. I play Jane, the disgruntled maid, a stranded motorist, and a nun. I haven't been in a play since the one I wrote in 5th grade...so it's a bit nerve bending. I don't have my evenings to myself yet. But I do have a new adventure.
The play is called "Bloody Murder" and is brand new! Never been performed. It's a comedy based around the characters of a murder mystery. It's showing on May 1, 2, & 3. I'd love it if you could come!!
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Peel off the layers. See who's beneath. Peel away enough layers and you'll find me invisible.
If you find me at all.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
If you know someone who suffers from any form of depression I'd like to offer some advice in dealing with them.
Yes, advice. Probably the last thing someone with depression wants. Most of the time, we've heard it ALL before. Don't tell us what makes you "happy" because we're not unhappy. Don't tell us what you like to do to "perk yourself up" we don't need perking up. Do not offer advice.
Please, please give us your time. If the person you are trying to help has not seen a doctor for his/her depression take the time to GO WITH THEM. Help them. It's hard to get yourself up from your depression enough to talk to a doctor. Hold our hands and get us there. If they are on medication talk with them to make sure they're on a good dosage. If you notice that they are still struggling offer to go with them again. If they're doing okay but have moments (or days) of depression, talk with them. Listen to them. It's okay that you don't know the answers. It's OKAY. Just listen and then ask if there is something you can do.
For me, I need an arm around my shoulder or a good strong hug. A physical touch to let me know that I am beautiful enough for physical touch. Listen to your friends who have depression ask them for specific things that you can do to help them.
Then do it.
Give them your time.
You could be exactly what they need.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Monday, March 03, 2008
Once I did my laundry at a different laundromat and I swear my clothes smelled like bacon. But this was because I had cooked some pork tenderloin (I'm supposed to add protein into my diet and I haven't yet learned to make things with tofu) and my HOUSE smelled like bacon. But when I walked into my house, I said out loud to myself, "My heart smells like bacon."
I tried to figure out if there was any real meaning to this. Maybe if fried, my heart would smell like bacon, I don't know. Maybe due to my stress out factor, my heart is frying in my chest. Maybe old things I'm holding on to that I really should let go of are making me angry enough to have bacon heart. I don't know.
But if you find yourself saying "My heart smells like bacon" let me know the situation and maybe we can figure it out together.
Saturday, March 01, 2008
Today, after about 5:45, I actually had the evening to myself. Well, after 8 really. I had to bake two apple pies (because we need the jars for one of the shows--and I am giving away said pies because I'm trying to eat healthier), make salt dough clay (for the same play), answer more emails, clean my apartment again, put away groceries, find more props and all that stuff that mysteriously sucks up time but doesn't show in any meaningful way.
Finally, I found some time for me. And what have I done with it? I've tried to sleep. Sleep has begun to be something that is precious to me, but always hard to find. And now I can't sleep. It's all I want to do, but I'm not sleeping. Because I have discovered that I am far more excited about helping other people make their dreams come true than I am about my own life. If I had a dream for my life that I could MAKE come true, you can bet I'd do all I could. But there is no dream for my life. That I have any kind of control over.
Daniel wants to make music. I'm there. I'll be his manager, set up shows for him, get him a back up group if he wants it, and I'm even hooking him up with a guy that edits and mixes music. His brother wants to play music too, and although I only met his brother once I know that I could get him shows, too. Another friend wants to sell his art. I could set all that up too. I believe in everyone's dreams for their lives and want to be a part of watching them succeed and make their dreams into a reality.
As for me. I just want to sleep.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
I have been asked on 12 dates in my entire life.
8 of them I actually went on.
4 of them I did not.
a: because it was the weird guy at work that asked out everyone.
b: because it was the guy that had just broken the heart of a girl I knew
c & d: because I was a missionary for my church at the time.
Yes. Isn't that a great statistic. 12 dates in 22 years of dating eligibility. I've never had a boyfriend. I had a great relationship with a beautiful man when we were both missionaries, but we never "dated." Then an incredibly weird relationship with Lord Voldemort's Evil Twin in which the man destroyed my already shaky self-esteem with a lot of emotional (and some physical) abuse. That's not a boyfriend.
While watching Scrubs tonight I realized that I am just as crazy as Elliot, only since I'm not "hot" no man is willing to even try to get through the crazy to the creamy center.
And someone is going to tell me to not give up hope...here's two fingers to you and to hope. May you both rest in peace.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Chris: Is that you, Major Iceborg?
Me: Gimmie the cashhhhhhh!!
It's hard to have a conversation with anyone in my family unless you have a fairly good knowledge of all the films and television shows we have ever seen. Or, just do like my sister-in-law did, just start adding your own quotes and pretending everyone else understands.
As continued proof of our madness, today I sent an email to my little brother. It read:
Hey Bri! Do you dig graves? Love, Maaike
To which he wrote back:
Yeah, they're all right.
We spent the whole day sending a sentence at a time to each other and covered The Young Ones, A Christmas Story, and Sneakers. (Not too long ago we spent an entire day on The Emperor's New Groove.)
Mom and Dad are not immune to this. One of Dad's favorites was "What you talkin' 'bout, Willis?" He'd also sit in the living room and suddenly shout, "A glass of water for Mr. Granger!" which meant that I was to get him a glass of water. Mom also joined in by raising her thumbs while I told a story a la one of my favorite moments from Scrubs: What has two thumbs and doesn't give a crap? Bob Kelso, nice to meet you.
Even the nieces and nephews don't stray from the pattern. Liam and Lexie could do a whole bit from Spongebob Squarepants when Patrick was trying to be just like Spongebob.
Most of our conversations whenever they veer towards the serious will eventually be interrupted by some silliness which, in our lingo, means: I'm uncomfortable with this level of personal intimacy I will therefor deflect it with a quote: Sorry, Venkman, I'm terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought.
This is not just a Davidson phenomenon. I became really good friends with Christina because I was singing "You seem easy and willing to put out, so roll in the cream cheese, roll in the cream cheese!" Daniel R. says to me, "As you wish, Buttercup." and Daniel M. quotes music just as compulsively as we quote film.
I guess it comes down to what are we willing to share about ourselves when all we can think to say are words that have been used by someone else. Granted, one phrase can often sum up what we are feeling without having to go into details.
Gee, Dad. If I can't have a sled, just say so.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
I pick a fuzz-ball from John's pants and it wafts down to be forever lost in my bag. Great. I'm trying to get over a fruitless crush by introducing the object of my unrequited affection to a girl he might actually find attractive (while wanting to stab her, really) only to discover that she already has a boyfriend. (& I still don't despite the fact that my "lizard skin" on my hand has actually cleared up and I got that no-one-will-ever-love-you mole removed from my head.)
Other good deeds have led to girls getting asked out on dates by the guys I wanted to be dating; someone else getting the job I really wanted; another person getting a good grade because I gave them the idea for their paper, etc...the list goes on.
Therefore, I give up. No more good deeds from me. You're all on your own. I'm going to be selfish and start watching out for people doing good deeds for ME so I can snatch the moment away, be happy, and THEY can be the ones in misery caused by a misguided desire to "be good."
Friday, January 18, 2008
This is a variation on a theme that has been creeping into my dreams for about two weeks now. Every night I dream some version of the people I love going away never to return. Sometimes they leave en masse and I am just left behind. No one turns their heads back to even see me standing there.
Some people don't actively leave me, they do so passively by NOT coming to my aid or by pretending they didn't see me. Sometimes the dreams are futuristic. Sometimes the world looks like ours today. But no matter the situation they all end the same: I am crying out for help and NO ONE is coming to my aid.
I'm trying to figure out the origin of these dreams. I've done the feng shui thing of clearing everything out from under my bed. I've have good days. Honestly. I'm busy, but I'm not overwhelmed or frustrated by too much to do. Things haven't been bad in my real life. I haven't been reading anything unusual before I go to sleep and I've run out of time for much television. Mostly I watch Jeopardy! and that's it.
The only source I can identify is the build up of stress in my body. Mainly located in my neck and shoulders. There is so much tension built up that I can't even lift weights to do my upper-body strength exercises because my shoulder ACHES so badly. I've tried heating pad and standing under hot water in my shower. I've tried ibuprofen and the like.
I hope this is the cause and when I can find someone to massage my aches out of me (sometime in February one of my cast members said he'd help) I can get away from these terrible dreams. I am so tired of being abandoned by those I love. Even though it only happened in a dream, our bodies can't tell the difference between dreamed emotions and real ones and it's so hard every morning to re-convince myself that those I love are still here.
At least I hope you are.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
"Yes, but don't you have a show you usually watch?"
"The season has ended."
"Well, this is a two hour special."
"That's okay. I've just got some stuff to work on."
So I stayed. I sat on his floor cutting out patterns of soft toys I'm going to be sewing and he sat at his table typing away on his computer. Every now and then we'd say something to each other but mostly those two hours went by in relative silence.
How peaceful it was. How comforting to know that I can stay there with him and just be there. That he was okay with my presence and I with his. I've always thought that he and I could easily share a living space but I think that level of comfort just proved it to me. However, since I plan on living in a one-bedroom birdhouse when I grow up, I don't think there's enough room for his CD's and boxes of zines...there's only enough room for mine.