YOU'RE AN INDIVIDUAL she wrote

I am still exhausted today from yesterday (when I was up at three in the morning and miserable for the rest of the day). Great jolts in my stomach yesterday morning, I remember, completely nerves. But I know when I woke up, I just laid there with my eyes shut wondering if I had dreamt the part where my dad told me he is going to get married. That set the tone for the rest of the day. I cried in the shower (more sobbed). And then I kicked my ass into gear.

Back to the point; I was too tired to work today on anything really substantial, so I kept myself busy cleaning around the house and packing up my old journals for storage. They just take up space and I am learning that there is nothing in them... I want to have any part of.

So packed those.
**(just have to take them downstairs, to my truck, and let them sit in the cold California winter nights until I make my way southward (to the storage unit).
But the box wasnt totally full so I decided to waste some more time finding odds and ins to fill it.

And I found this black journal that I started... a little more than a year ago.
It is my first (and so far only) completely sober journal.

And it is amazing.
Probably my best writing - and I dont mean it is good format, good spelling, good topics... it just happens to be completely raw and unfolding on its own accord,
even if it has horrible spelling.
even if I thought it was astonishingly lame when I was writing it.

I want that girl to know that she made it. I want her to know that she struggled and she is going to keep making it happen.
Its the only journal (ironic) that I read it... and I like the girl.
I actually like the person who wrote that stuff, and I don't care if she's lame.

So (perhaps in honor) I am transferring something from that journal to here
and I know it repeats sometimes...
and some of the words are misspelled
but she has a soul and a true heart, and thats something that the other ones never had
-
there is always hope
---
12/25/03

I like hot tea, tongue piercings, stretching, running sometimes, dogs, cut wife beaters, low cut jeans, writing, singing (always), vintage, culture, (though I don't admit or show it) self-discipline, feather comforter, smiling, papason chairs or curling up in them, dramatic beds with drapes and such, walking barefoot, SLIPPERS, bubblegum, reading, making people laugh, laughing,
smoking cigarettes with my brother, being with my mom, watching movies with my dad or when he acts goofy, when I feel like myself, walks on Mt. Sequoyah, My aunt Terri and that family, my preschoolers, reading stuff and maxim, being with my friends, being with my best friend, being perceptive, listening to music, shopping NOT at malls though, individuality, being sober, caring about people at meetings, reacting without faking or pushing myself, crying, the scarf my mom made me, looking at pictures, taking pictures, sleeping, oranges instead of apples, dried flowers, having the fan on, the rain, growing, twirling my hair, the ocean, traveling but NOT airports, pajama pants, harmony I think, reading old journals, chapstick, cocoa pebbles, french toast, crab rangoon :o), just caring, doing what I tell myself I should, studio lofts, hardwood floors, my eyes, eyes, hands, clearing my mind, being young, flip flops DAMMIT, playing pool, relaxing, kissing the right person, being a little skinny, appreciating beauty, thinking about being a kid, laying in empty bathtubs and full ones too, showers, having a lot of different shampoos and conditioners, knowing its all really pretty simple, skies, stars, world history, hardwood floors, dark oak sleigh beds, clawed bathtubs, books, curling my toes under, BEING OPEN, my room not TOTALLY clean :o),

---

and thats it. the strange part is... I hesitate putting that up here because I wanted to protect that girl. I didnt want to exploit her.
It might be more important to me than anything else on here.
Strange

-K

Scenerio(s)

*Doorbell Rings (three times continuously) followed by 4 knocks on the door*

Me answering door with towel on my head, already displeased.
Him: Haaay, What's going on?
Me: Why are you at my house?
Him: I was in the area, wanted to drop by and see what's going on with you.
Me: Don't you know never to come to my house uninvited?
Him: Ahh, come on. I just wanted to say hello.
Me: I don't care, I do not like uninvited guests, you should know that pisses me off.
Him: *sigh* Riiight, but you don't mind ME coming.
Me: actually, I do. I don't care if your head is on fire and I am the only person in a 10 mile radius that has running water, you DO NOT come to my house uninvited.
Him: Ahhh, well invite me.
Me: Yea, right. I am serious. If you stop by my house, call me on the phone, come near me or my family, I will get a fucking restraining order.
Him: ooh, riight.
Me: *starting to slam the door but he puts his foot in to stop it from shutting*
Him: are you serious?
Me: yea. *door slams*
*4 knocks, yelling my name through the door. Me already heading back upstairs mumbling "fucking idiot" under my breath*
----
I know you think she is weird because she doesn't socialize or have friends like you guys do. And you think its strange that she doesn't have interest in pom squad or dance team or sports. But she has been through a lot more than you could imagine in the years she has been around. So think about it: she is just like you guys. And what would it take, what pain and heartbreak would you have to go through before you couldn't take anymore and shut the world out? Just something to think about.
----
She knows how to smart off. That's one skill she has mastered. Brash, abrasive; she said she learned it from her father. Her father says she learned it from her mother. Her mother sighs because she rose above it a long time ago and isn't about to descend into that shit again.

Happy anniversary, Self

So I have a year clean and sober. Well actually, I have a year and a couple of days. I just thought I would post because it seems I always do when it comes time to celebrate.
Thanksgiving is coming up rapidly. What the fuck is December coming for?
Thats all for now. I am in my bitchy place and that is never fun. Irritation... IRRITATION GOD DAMMIT.
These times are the most UNPRODUCTIVE times in my entire existence. And I can be rather unproductive.
Good news is that I have been spending a lot of time with my grandparents and greatly improving their quality of life. Yay, me. Hip, hip, Hooray!

Back on track

You're getting back on track now, doing good.
Stick with it; you get what you give.

Goddamn right, its a beautiful day
uh huh

Kick some ass, girl.

What if he stopped loving you?

to me: what would you do if your husband stopped loving you?
me: that depends
to me: (expectant pause) on?
me: whether I still love him. If I still love him... how in depth do you want this to be?
to me: just what you would really do.
me: first, I would probably start a fight, or a line of fights within a period of a couple of days. I would yell and scream and cuss and show my displeasure with the hand that fate has dealt me. Its likely that I would cry in my car. Then, I would take a vacation to Arkansas to get away from my life and get ahold of myself. I would get nervous as the plane landed. I would stay with my father in hopes that he would comfort me. Eventually I would come to realize that if my father doesn't love me like I want him to after however many years and I am able to live with it, then the same is probably true with my husband. My stay there would probably end with me expressing my anger to my father, driving myself to the airport while he stays at work, and looking out the window as the plane takes off. Contemplating, I am always contemplating on planes.
From there I would get my stuff from my husband and move on. Slowly at first and then with more force, gradually cutting all ties and eventually losing all feeling towards the person, ideally.
That's just judging from past experiences. Who knows.

If I don't love still love him, we can skip directly to the last paragraph.
So that is how that goes.
And I am still waiting for a response.
---
In other news, I had a dream last night that my father wouldn't leave work to come see me across the street. I was staying in a hotel, I guess, and I could see his work from my room (or was it my car?). Anyway, I could see that he was in and out of work, but when I talked to him on the phone he wouldn't make plans to see me. He would say he is at work and I knew that he wasn't.