say a little prayer...

I'm not really all that religious. I wasn't raised in a religious household. We didn't attend church, although, I have been baptized, and confirmed, we aren't very "organized religion" religious. I was raised with "faith". Faith that things will work out the way it should, faith in yourself, in your abilities and that you are innately a good person. Growing up I was taught about religious freedom and that it was okay to adopt theories, faiths, feelings from many religious sects. I have faith in a variety of theories. (It helped my religious beliefs tremendously that I was a religion major in college).

I've done some super questionable stuff in my life, questionable to the point where I am ashamed and embarrassed and have to live with the sick feeling in the bellows of my belly. With all that though, I have faith, faith that there's a lesson to have been learned (I only wish I learned the lesson sooner, or the first time I fuck shit up). I only hope the people I hurt forgive me, and learn from my mistakes. I have faith that they will, over time of course.

Some lessons I have learned through my "faith" is to trust my first instinct, rather than giving people the benefit of the doubt in hopes that they won't turn into what my belly is instinctively telling me. I've learned that you can't always get what you want, but sometime, you"ll find you get exactly what you need without ever even knowing it (thank you Mick Jagger for that ever reverberating lesson), just have that faith. I've learned that I'm fortunate. One of my favorite quotes of all time is from Lemony Snicket: "It is a miracle if you can find true friends, and it is a miracle if you have enough food to eat, and it is a miracle if you get to spend your days and evenings doing whatever it is you like to do, and the holiday season- like all other seasons- is a good time not only to tell stories of miracles, but to think about the miracles in your own life, and to be grateful for them."

I've been focusing on my faith and my own miracles, and as much as I complain, and say ridiculous things about RB, and as unhappy I have every been with him, I'd be terribly unhappy, miserable, and completely dysfunctional without him, it's a miracle that he still loves me. It's a miracle that I have parents that love, treasure and take care of me more than they ever should despite my nasty attitude, or questionable behavior. It's a miracle that my family deals with me, feeds me, loves me, and helps to take care of me. It's a miracle I have a job where I have trusted colleagues. My very existence is a miracle.

With all that being said, pray for me, and for those I love and know, and in return will pray for all of you, that you too, can find faith, and miracles in your everyday lives.

Cheers to Health, Wealth, Faith, Miracles and Happiness in This New Year and Every Year Thereafter! 

70 days = 10 weeks

70 days = 10 weeks. that's how long we had to live at my parents house. (it was actually 74 days but who's counting). I am sad that I had to go. I liked living there, I would bring my bed there if I could and live there. it took a long time to get to where we are, (and a lot of money), but finally our apartment, our new home is completed, even down to the curtains. the hardest part, picking paint. without further ado, here are your before pictures, during and after...

 So our bedroom pretty much looks the same, and if you really want pictures, I'll post them when RB isn't asleep in the bed. You'll have to excuse some of the mess, we are still working on getting rid of things and finding places for things to go. We are pretty much settled in, we need to put up some photos, and get a diningroom table, and desk but again for the most part we are set. We have found out though that the walls are so old, our paint doesn't look good in photo's but it looks just fine in person. Also, all my original pictures I liked better because I took them at night and I like all of our lighting in this apartment, that isn't to say that the natural light isn't lovely, it just makes things look a little different.

In the mortal words of Rosemary Clooney, "C'mon a my house, a my house, I'm gonna give you some candy".... you're all welcome for a visit! xox

i'm longing for my bed

I'm growing tired. real tired. I haven't slept in my own bed since August 12. isn't that sad? especially for me, a person who loves sleeping and my bed.

i would try to go and visit friends normally, run away, you know the usual, i just can't leave RB alone in my parent's house. not that they would mind, or that he wouldn't survive, but you know, i certainly wouldn't want to be left alone in my in-laws... i mean anyone else's parents house by myself.

i'm trying to sell some clothing, make a little extra cash, along with working on a team at school that i have zero desire to be apart of, but we could use the extra money. government shut down = one income household for the time being, not so much fun when the one income is a teachers salary. not that i don't make good money, i do, it's just that i have expensive taste and if you haven't noticed, we are completing major renovations in our apartment.

i'm not freaking out. sure, i have moments where i want to scream and yell and kick and cry and give up on everything, BUT i know that come next month i'll be back home in our beautifully redone apartment, and planning our next vacation. i'm not worried. i'm just tired.

in the mean time, pray for my sanity and know that i am fully aware that things can always be worse and that i lead a pretty fortunate and blessed life (even without my bed).

my faith is being restored in human kindness.

When I said that I wasn't sure how this whole renovating thing was going to go, I wasn't lying. I wasn't fooled to believe it would be a smooth, well oiled machine, that would actually be completed in the time I was told it would be completed. We have been very fortunate though in that no BIG problems arose during the renovations- i.e. termites, mold, super big construction issues etc. However, that isn't to say that annoyances, frustrations and completely aggravating situations have not arisen.

Appliances were ordered and scheduled to be delivered early in September until a request made by the contractor to change the date came along to which I obliged, which turned into Sears having to refund my appliance delivery charges, no tip for the delivery men, and a super aggravated me. It was endless, no one was there to accept delivery, they couldn't deliver as promised, no one on Sears' end answered the phone, blah, blah, blah. Needless to say, they are in and they are fabulous.

I decided to get a shower door [stupid move], because we got some money back when we had to reorder a new toilet, one that would fit more appropriately in our bathroom. That took way too long and cost WAY to much, it looks amazing though, nothing obstructing the view of my wonderfully retro bath tiles.

To closet system or to not closet system? well, this was a decision that I should have simply made for our bedroom closet and not both bedrooms because, our closet system purchased at the amazing Container Store worked out great for our bedroom and stupidly for the guest. Resulting in 3 trips to the store and a nice little fight between RB and I about putting the damned thing together. Once our stuff is in, I'm not worried too much about what it looks like, I simply want to utilize the space to it's maximum capacity.

All I really needed wanted was a farmhouse sink. It's an odd thing I know, but I envision babies bathing in it for some odd reason. It's homey and rich with style, I love them. I didn't care the size, and my blessed plumbing guy asked me about a million times to be SURE on the size. I check with the designer a million and one times on the size and sure as shit it was too big for the space. I was LIVID. I was so angry, not simply because I asked a million and one times, not because I looked like an idiot to my plumbing supply guy, not because I had to now order a size down, not that I even had to postponed the measuring/template of my counter top by 2 weeks, but because I had to pay the restocking fee on this enormous sink that was mistakenly ordered and it wasn't my fault! This wasn't the first time my designer/contractor made a mistake that cost me time, and money, remember the appliances above, yeah, because of him, I almost got a divorce- not really, but you know what I mean.

I decided I would tell him of my aggravation and complete and utter disappointment. He had nothing to respond to me with. When the head contractor/owner/carpenter picked up the new sink, and shower door, he paid for these items. When he and I were talking about it, he said, I paid, so we can work that into your final payment later. I replied with, "oh great, thanks, you saved me a check to write. how much was it again?' I knew full well how much it was but I was fishing to see if he would ask for more money. To my surprise and restoration in human kindness, he said, "well, you have to pay for the shower door, it was $xx plus tax, but since *Tim messed up big time with the sink, and that's not your fault at all, I'm going to take it out of his cut." with a slight chuckle, he looked at me, and I was overwhelmed. I said thank you, and mentioned how thoughtful that was, and he simply said that it "wasn't a problem, and it's what you do".

The head contractor has also decided to fix our vestibule floor free of charge, for having the renovations take so long and not having things goes as on schedule as he would have liked. This is a nice human, and maybe, maybe, most people would have done the same thing, and maybe he's playing me so that he can not hear me complain or whatever anymore, but he didn't have to do any of it. I would have complained, but still paid for the restocking fee, and the vestibule floor. But he didn't. He restored my faith in human kindness, in that people want to do nice things. It means a lot and Karma is working it's way around.

bundled up & scared to sleep

holy shit it is so cold, i have been wearing socks and a hat in the house for days and still can't warm up. that's not even the worst part... i had a dream the other night that i couldn't go to the bathroom out of my normal orifice instead i had to defecate out of my mouth... disgusting! i'm afraid to decode this dream. (please no one try)

with break being over it is always a difficult task to get back into the swing of things. i can't seem to get enough sleep. i am so tired and want to do nothing but sleep. however, with the new dreaming additions of oral shitting i am suddenly afraid to sleep and muss the sheets.

on a better note, the bffl's might make an appearance soonly. they'll warm me up. <insert happy moment here>

examining the past

untitled

empty, but yet full of life
nothing left to be discovered
but nothing known
where am i?
in a dream? or
awake as the bright blue sky?
i wander in search of something that i don't even know if it exists
or not
but what am i looking for?
love, intelligence, companionship
alone time or just myself?
looking in a mirror is like looking at a blank space
or a poorly lighted hallway
no doors to escape to,
not knowing where it leads, just space
hollow, and poorly lit
it's evil, life, you know
we walk around not ever really knowing anything
but living out thoughts, impressions and choices
i am a free spirit!
but free to do what?

this was written almost 12 years ago if not 12 years ago exactly. i was about 18 years old. i found it in a published college poetry "zine" in my room. when i read it it brought back every memory and feeling that made me write it. i understood and re-identified with the 18-year freshman girl who wrote it. i feel exactly the same way that she did every time i read it. i can't escape it.

you think that when you grow up, so much of you changes, and it does, but so much of you doesn't change at all. everything that this 18 year-old college freshman was writing about, whether you understand it, you relate to it, or not, i do, i feel it, i still, at 30, am this way. who knew that it would be so. i do know that the 18 year-old version of me thought for sure that the 30 year-old me would have a better understanding, or at least most of what the 18 year-old was referring to figured out, and in reality, i have to let the 18 year-old down and let her know, i don't. the truth is, the 18 year-old version of me isn't disappointed at all. she's relieved. she's relieved to know that it doesn't get any easier, or better, or more understood. nothing gets figured out, it only gets more complicated. it all gets more and more complicated. it's a relief to me that it does. it's a warped sense of thinking, but at least that's the consistent thing in this realm of mine.

there are few things i can count on; complications are one of them, and it's a relief to know, in a weird way that a complication will arise, i will have faith that i will make it through, i will learn from it, and i may or may not have figured something out. what's the point in worrying all the time? that just seems like time wasted on things that are out of my control, things that i can't change, things that hopefully i can learn from, laugh about later. this written work was a product of an 18 year-old who hoped she'd have something figured out, little did she know, that she was better off by having nothing figured out, she was freer than having something figured out... so stop worrying, have faith and breathe.