| -So, uh, hey...do you like the color blue?
-That depends. Sky blue or dark blue?
-Uhm, sky I guess.
-Alright...light sky blue or dark sky blue?
-Is there such a difference?
-Well what is the blue on? A car, clothing, a house, shoes?
-Uhm...clothes maybe?
-A shirt, sweater, pants, or hat?
-A shirt I suppose.
-Oh, Yeah! I love the color blue! | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment   |
| | I hate it when people don't listen, I hate it when people listen but don't hear me, I hate it when people still don't understand when I give visual aids. I hate it when people don't get it even after I've spelled it out. I hate it when people just don't understand even after I've made it so clear. I hate it. It drives me absolutely insane. Makes me want to scream and I do. I can't stand myself sometimes, and sometimes it's all because of you. | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| My parents are selling Vick because I've gotten so many speeding tickets. I'm pissed. Livid. Infuriated. But in the end I deserve it. So if you could, please take a moment of silence for my boy, though our time together has been cut short, he'll always be my favorite man. Let's all bow our heads and remember the P.I.M.P...my car.
I love you Vick. I'll miss you so. | | comments: 3 comments or Leave a comment |
| | Because sometimes when I'm completely quiet on a dark road with the windows up and the volume low, I'm just trying to understand what I'm thinking. It's really hard sometimes. It's like if I stare long and hard enough I'm experiencing myself. I think myself out of existence and then I try to figure it all out. I feel so different from everyone else...there's not a single person like me at all. It's like what I've been told since 3rd grade, like everyone else, but it's weirder. Because this time I don't understand. I feel like the other 7 billion people out there are just robots but I'm real and I'm different and I'm here for a reason but I have no idea what that is. It's like I think about it for so long that I can feel myself exist in those moments...because you never truly think about just existing...and it scares me half to death. Maybe I get so scared because the one fear I have in the world...the one thing that scares me completely...is dying. I know I'm here for some kind of greater good, some type of outstanding purpose...I'm sure we all feel like that sometimes. I just wish I knew what it was so I wouldn't get this feeling of confusion so often. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Lots of things have changed since when I used to write in this almost obsessively. I've come to the conclusion that I'm the type of person that likes change a lot. A change-junkie, if you will. I don't like it when things stay the same for too long. I guess I get bored and the ambitious side of me knows there's so much more out there. I'm always thinking about where I could be or what I could be doing. Another thing thats changed. I know what love is now. I used to think that I knew but I was only joking myself and trying really hard to make things work that were a joke themselves. I've met someone that is incredible in uncountable ways. Sometimes when we're together I'm really quiet and I don't realize that I haven't spoken in awhile...she'll ask me what I'm thinking...sometimes I say nothing, sometimes I ramble, and sometimes when I get the courage up to be really cheesy...I admit that I'm thinking about how truly lucky and blessed I feel to be the one next to her...the one she's with...the one she loves. I'm so in love with her. It wouldn't be a lie to say I've never felt this way before. There are no strings attached to this love, there's no overwhelming hurt that is pent up inside from countless occasions that we've hurt eachother. It's an innocently perfect love. We'll never hurt eachother to the degree that ends other relationships devastatingly. We love and respect eachother far too much for that....and it blows me away. She blows me away...everytime I look at her...there just aren't words to describe anything about her really. Nothing has ever worked out so perfectly for me and I've never been so at ease with my surroundings. When I'm upset about something and I vent, she listens, she knows not to say too much because I'm incredibly difficult. She puts up with my sarcasm and meanness that comes out every now and then. She laughs with me outloud and loves my laugh. She smiles and I know that I am lucky. I look at her when I'm infuriated and I can't help but smile because she's amazing...it's frustrating sometimes but it's how I know it's love. I'm happy. | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
| | I'm not afraid to admit that I'm lonely...it's the simple truth. Couples everywhere reminding me of you. But I haven't found you, no idea who you are. Maybe we lost eachother in the thickness of it all. Maybe I'm too young to worry about it. It doesn't matter though, it's always on my mind. And maybe I'm too vain to see it when it's staring me in the eye. And maybe I'm just lost because I hid thinking you might see...how amazing you never knew that I could be. Or maybe she's that girl...I just don't look hard enough to see it through my pride. Should have glanced again but by then she had passed me by. Maybe I just suck because I want it all. Knowing sacrifices and compromises are needed...but never truly settling for what I knew just might have been "it". And I was never there for the right girl at the right time...always falling way behind as that calender shed sheets of paper naming dates. But I was never that girl...right you...right me...wrong time. Always hoping maybe the right time would come but knowing the opposite as well. I'm the best friend she has ever had but I'd be really good at being more. And I'm sure she knows it as she's seen it before. Screw it all there's not much I can do. Wait and wait and wait they say...it just gets so old. I wish that you could just tell me who you are...and I wish that I could accept that answer for what it is. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Subject: | Self Aware | | Time: | 01:01 am | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/sam/thoughtful.gif) contemplative |
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| | I think I know exactly who I am...I think I know myself so well that it makes it really hard to understand when others don't know themselves. Makes me somewhat of a stubborn person even. I know exactly what I want out of life and very rarely do I ever second guess or question myself at all. It's frustrating. I know when I'm doing things wrong...I know when I'm doing things right...I know when I've made mistakes...I know how I feel about EVERYTHING...I know where my life is going and where I want to be. Makes it hard to have excuses for anything at all. Makes it hard to justify and maybe that's a good thing. Makes it hard not to be opinionated...but I don't think that's a completely bad thing. I read people. I read people too well. To the point that I hate it. I can tell a lie in a second flat...but I rarely call people out on it. I think that's rude. Self awareness. People tell me all the time that I'm "so smart" that I've got a "good head on my shoulders" that I "understand." Truth is...the only thing I'm ever sure that I understand is in fact--myself. Everything else is usually scattered and messy. Sometimes I wake up in the morning to my own thoughts screaming in my head. It's like the volume in my mind is on 1,000,000,000 decibels. Thoughts sprint through my mind and everything's just SO loud. I can't stand myself some mornings....some days...sometimes...a lot. Sometimes my standards for everything are just so high....most times my standards for myself are far too high. Good or bad thing? I say good but so many times I'm told it's bad. Who would I be with lower standards? I don't even know. I'd be completely different. I'm a strong person in that way. I like to think so at least. Yet, I'm somewhat dependent in an awkwardly independent, caring, and completely aware way. In conclusion....I'm the kind of person....who...if my significant other died...I would die the next day. | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| | Was it the alcohol or was it a firm and planned decision? When his breathing got shallow...did he sit back and feel relief...feel free...feel alive through ending life...did it feel kinda like smoking a cigarette on a bad day? Did he get scared and reach for the door...only to be too late and pass out? Did he cry as he set it all up? Did he think twice...did he think at all? Did his seven kids pass through his mind...did he think about my mom? Was he too heartbroken to care about it all? Was a life less...a less painful life? I hate it but I understand. I hear so much about you but I don't know much at all. I guess you were abusive...but not really...just an angry drunk...as if that justifies anything at all. When you were sober, I hear you were pretty cool-but I guess it wasn't often. I wouldn't know...I never got to meet you. It's weird but I get it all. I mean...honestly...you didn't want to live. You lost your job, you were drowning in that substance, she was going to leave you, and your kids probably disliked you half the time...even though they loved you so much. I guess when you think about it...you had lost it all...and if not yet...then soon. She cries still. It's bad when she hears the song "Whiskey Lullaby." How could you leave your daughter like that? Your three daughters. Your wife. Your four sons. I just don't get it...but I do. If I ever met you I'd probably be angry at first...just because you hurt them so much. It's selfish both ways-you know. You were selfish in taking your life and we're selfish for wanting you to keep it. Then I'd wanna talk about it. As morbid as it sounds, I'd want the details. From the time you woke up in the morning, to your every thought and action throughout the day, to your very last thought as your life slipped away. It's weird how something that happened 25 years ago can provoke so much thought now. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| people don't really want you to be honest...even if they say they really want you to be honest...even if they say they wont get mad. because the moment that you're honest they get defensive or angry.
not all of your friends will always be there...in fact most wont...but there's always that one friend that'd stand in a hail storm with you if you needed them to. *not that you should ever ask a friend to do that*
that after a serious relationship...give it a year...or two...but find closure and be friends again...it's an incredible feeling.
when i'm sad my dog is the first one that can tell.
putting windows media player on shuffle when you're in a bad mood...is a bad idea because it'll play all the songs you don't wanna hear and that will only make you angry.
smiling is contagious and that being outgoingly happy...even if you look completely stupid...will make other people happy too.
the crust on bread isn't any healthier than the white part of the bread. my mom used to always say it was the best part, the healthiest...so that i would eat it...but how can that be?...it's all made of the same thing, the crust is just exposed to more heat! sometimes i feel so lied to.
ostrichs don't really stick their head in the sand. *that disappointed me*
penguins do have knees.
seeing things from a children's point of view is so much better than ours. it's amazing how a lake becomes an ocean and a canoe becomes a pirate's ship. i never want to grow up. never.
imagination is the best outlet when you feel like nothing is going right. because everything can work out in your imagination.
creativity is an incredible attribute and everyone holds it in some way. even if they don't know it. it could just be the way you tie your shoes, or the way you say a certain word.
in working with special needs kids--they've taught me so much more than i ever taught them...even though i was supposed to be their tutor.
that people lie. life's not simple and neither are people. life hurts.
old songs make me happy...very happy....very very happy.
that you should always mean what you say and say what you mean...because those words will never go away. | | comments: 3 comments or Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | once again...I can hear the people's music above me...grrr | | Subject: | You Don't Bother Me | | Time: | 01:18 pm | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/sam/relaxed.gif) relaxed |
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| | Jimmy Neutron is on mute and I'm laying in my bed. My favorite poster is on the wall next to me..."Lunchtime Atop a Skyscraper." Alycia bought it for me, I begged, and she actually did it...didn't really even argue-thank you. For the longest time I stared at my ceiling picturing the poster up there. I looked at the poster...studied it...stared earnestly. Then I layed flat on my bed, arms folded behind my head, and imagined the scene on my ceiling. 11 men working on a skyscraper hundreds of feet in the air...no harness, no hardhats, no workboots...nothing...just old raggedy tank tops-if a shirt at all, broken in jeans, and old hats. Incredible. I burnt the image into my ceiling and it all came to life. I could hear things in the background-horns honking, the noise from the city, the wind whistling between the buildings...and I could see ant like cars moving down below-far below. I realized it was more than a picture. It was a moment in time...it was a stopped moment. I only see the frozen scene but it was so much more. It's weird the way things come to life on my ceiling...when I fall asleep at night I fall asleep staring at it and picturing things and when I wake up in the morning I fold my arms behind my head and start all over again. I guess it's a good way to end and start my days. I was thinking about putting something up there...so I'm not constantly staring at a plain white surface. Then I realized...that if I did that my imagination would be shot. Because then I wouldn't have a reason to think about things and picture them up there...there'd already be something there to look at and ponder. I don't know. I guess in a weird kind of way...my plain white ceiling helps me keep my sanity and insightfulness. I've just made the executive decision that no matter what color my room is painted when I own my house, the ceiling must be solid pure white. No cracks, no tiles, no dots, no plastered look...just smooth white...for the movie screen in my head. *Takes Jimmy Neutron off mute*...I think it's a marathon today. "But there is no joy in Retroville because Jimmy is an IDIOT." Said by Cindy. I love this cartoon...and it reminds me of babysitting for Mrs. Dehav with Ashleigh...Drew throws his sippy cup on the floor...we ask "what's wrong Drew"...he responds..."It's warm." Becca explains her father's line of work...we ask "Is your dad a carpenter?"...she responds "he works with wood too." Good to know...haha good times. I need to think about good times a lot more. I definitely need that. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| My friend assures me she says,"it’s all or nothing"
But I am not worried and I am not overly concerned
My friend implores me "Just one time only,
Make an exception." I am not worried
Wrap her up in a package of lies
You send her off to a coconut island
I am not worried and I am not overly concerned
With the status of my emotions
Oh, she says,"hey you're changing."
But we're always changing
And it does not bother me to say this isn’t love
Because if you don’t want to talk about it then it isn’t love
And I guess I’m gonna have to just live that
But, I’m sure there’s something in a shade of gray
Or something inbetween
I can always just change my name if that’s what you mean
But my friend assures me, she says,"look it’s all or nothing"
But I am not really worried
And I am not overly concerned
You try to tell yourself the things you try to tell yourself just to make
Yourself forget
I am not worried
Because if it’s love she said that,"we're gonna have to think about the
Consequences"
'Cause she can’t stop shaking-I...I can't stop touching her
And this time when kindness falls like rain
It washes her away and Anna begins to change her mind
"And these seconds when I’m shaking leave me shuddering
For days," she says.
I’m not ready for this sort of thing
But I’m not gonna break
And I’m not gonna worry about it anymore
See, I’m not gonna bend. And I’m not gonna break and
....I’m not gonna worry about it anymore....
I know...I know...It seems like I should say "oh, oh well, as-long-as-this-is-love"...
...It's not all that easy...
So maybe I should just
Snatch her up in a butterfly net-
Pin her down on a photograph album
I am not worried
I just do the same things over and over and over again
But then I start to think about the consequences
'Cause I don’t get no sleep....man I never sleep
This time when kindness falls like rain
It washes me away and Anna begins to change my mind
And every time she, she sneezes...I think it’s love
And oh lord.... I’m not ready for this sort of thing
She's talkin in her sleep-it's keepin me awake
And Anna begins to toss and turn and toss
And every word is just nonsense but I understand and
Oh lord. I m not ready for this sort of thing
Her kindness bangs a gong
It’s moving me along and Anna begins to fade away
It s chasing me away. She just dissappears
And Oh Lord I’m not ready for this sort of thing | | comments: Leave a comment |
| THE GOOD
I got Vick back and he got his eyebrows done...meaning he got his front windshield tinted. He's so handsome.
When I got back to USI and nestled myself back into my little room...my favorite cartoon, The Weekenders, was on.
Spring Break was really good. I got to see my friends (Ash and Kel being the most important) and be at home...which I actually like a lot.
I had an awesome trip to Mall of America with my mom...and she bought me lots of cool stuff.
Chelsea and I are friends again which makes me feel like a huge rock has been lifted from my shoulders.
I still don't have a roommate which means I wont get one.
I finally like my hair, a lot.
Ashleigh is coming here for her spring break....kick ass.
I got my summer camp applications all filled out...finally.
THE BAD
I didn't get the RA position I really wanted..."someone else was more closely qualified"...what a joke.
I'm too tired to completely unload my car and I have no one to help me.
I lost something extremely special this week and it doesn't even know where it's hiding.
One of my suitemates left our "living room" light on over break...probably Megan....and when I came home it was burnt out...meaning it wont be fixed until I do it.
Driving gave me a headache, as usual.
My room feels really vacant, sad, and lonely...a lot like me.
I've thrown up like 3-4 time in the past week....and I HATE throwing up more than anything else in the world.
Everything is blurry.
THE UGLY
Vick's tint job has some flaws, I will haunt Picture Perfect Auto Body until Vick is happy.
The weird stuff that looks like acne under my nose.
Any relationship I'm ever in.
Ben Harper's song "Forever."
Uma Thurman....(Emily might argue). | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| | It's so hard to find people with faith, so many questions anymore, so many people that wonder but are too afraid to say they believe and not afraid at all to constantly question. I'm proud to say that I believe. I saw the movie Constantine...well twice this past week. I'm a large fan and so badly want wings to extend from my shoulder blades. If I could choose I'd be like a guardian archangel, I think it'd be awesome. But all of that is beside the point. So....I've come to this conclusion. I don't know what Heaven and Hell are. Do any of us really? I mean we've got the images, the descriptions and such, but what's it like really? When I was little I always thought that Heaven was this huge land of sky and marshmallow clouds and that little angels chilled on these clouds with notepads and pencils. Every angel had their own cloud, kinda like their apartment and also had their own person on earth. Notes were taken on that person and then turned into God. Hey, I was little. Now...I think it's so much more complex. I'm not so sure about my feelings of Purgatory anymore. But this is how I feel...get ready... Alright, I think there's Heaven, and there's a place not as high but equally divine. Like uhm Paradise maybe...alright so I feel like most people, those who've asked for forgiveness go to Paradise...an incredible place...I don't know how long you stay but you hang out in Paradise, what better place to hang out? Heaven. Some people go to Heaven...maybe all people eventually after Paradise...but Heaven is the ultimate place...the ultimate afterlife. Either way you've got it good. Then there's Hell. I don't think it's a firery pit and I don't think that there's really a leader chillin down there, I don't think Satan has reign over the demons of Hell. In fact I don't even believe there are demons there. Maybe damned souls...but damned is such a strong word. I think that Hell consists of your own creation...you create your own Hell. For most people that would probably be an afterlife hating yourself for what you knew was wrong and didn't fix. A mind game so to speak, trapped in your own mistakes, sins, and death without forgiveness. But I think virtually anyone can be forgiven...I don't think God is so picky as to turn you down because you did that one horrible thing on the playground in 5th grade. I think God has an incredible power to forgive...more than you or I could ever have. I think God's incapable of hatred. I don't know, maybe I think too much. | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | Jail House Rock (how could anyone ever write such a song?) | | Subject: | Letters From O'Bannon Jail | | Time: | 10:26 am | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/sam/depressed.gif) depressed |
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| | Who knew that such thin walls could build such strong barriers? I never knew nor did I think I ever would. But I made a decision and I'm taking the consequences...and I hate it. I'm not used to being confined in such a small area that consists of my daily life. Basically, I want my car back. *side tangent* I hate the word basically when it's used in explanations of how to do something. It's so annoying, it leaves me with so much doubt that just frustrates the hell out of me. Basically? Is it or is it not?! Alright I'm through with that. I feel so trapped here without Vick. It used to be that if I was sad, mad, upset, hurt, frustrated, angry, anything...I could just take Vick out and he'd strut along until I was calm and quiet. Who knew that such an inanimate object could ever be so emotionally supportive? I want my Vick back...I need him back before I go insane. This really isn't healthy, I feel imprisoned...I really do. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| Captain Shawn General's Warning: The following entry is biased due to the fact that it is of my own contemplated logic. If you are offended by any of the following information this was not my intent so please do not be angry, simply e mail your complaints, and my secretary will sort through the important ones and throw them in the trash so that I need not hassle with them. Enjoy the following presentation.
I'm supposed to be writing right now, and I am...just not the correct thing. I have a rough draft due in English tomorrow...a research paper. Now there's a few problems with this assignment...1)Research papers are stupid 2) My topic is obvious and therefore stupid & 3)Groupwork. Now I'll explain exactly what I mean by all of this. Research papers are stupid because all you do is take a bunch of smart people's work and throw it into you paper, (with a few citations in order to avoid plagiarism and removal from class) mix it with a little of your own opinion, come up with a clever conclusion to everything you've already stated, and Viola!...paper. How boring is that? It's no fun, I have no desire to do it, and I believe it's worthless work. So what if I learn a little about the topic I chose, I could have done that anyway...it's called CNN, CNBC, Eyewitness News...I mean honestly! So what if a citation in my paper comes from a certain professor somewhere in Illinois who thinks that stem-cell research is great and beneficial and all. SO WHAT. Maybe I just like reading my own work too much, but I would just much rather be original than write a research paper. Gosh.....(my originality from Napoleon Dynamite). Moving on to reason number 2)-as it was previously promised. My topic is secondhand smoke or passive smoke, for that matter, as the smart people call it. Secondhand smoke...when you lite up your cigarette and put it in your mouth and smoke forms around you from your cigarette and you blowing out smoke...you're hurting people around you too. More selfishly put...you're harming me and my filterless breathing habits. You could even cause me cancer...but hey can't everything? Yeah basically. The point being...I don't wanna breathe your air...I don't blow my early morning bad breath all over campus, do I? Nope. Why do you blow your carcinogens every where? The world may never know. Don't worry though, I aint mad (said in ghetto Anderson voice). It's simply just my topic. But, moving on to what fascinates me the most...and that would be the people my age that are just starting to pick up the nasty, expensive, dangerous habit...a habit that they've heard of for years...a habit that they know in fact is harmful...a habit that they know is addicting, unhealthy, and unattractive. Yet still...they do it. Why? I may never understand. However, I will never date a smoker, I solemnly swear that as an oath to myself. Now on to number 3)...Groupwork. I, as some of you know, HATE GROUPWORK. I haaate it...I loathe it....I despise it with an incredible passion that burns in my eyes when the word is muttered in a loud room. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I trusted other people, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I thought most of Americans were smart, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I weren't an only child, and maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I hadn't had all the horrible experiences with it that I have indeed had. I'm not sure. But I hate it, and I don't believe in it. Enough said for today with my bitter self...all caused by my favorite subject, in all honesty, English. | | comments: 3 comments or Leave a comment |
| | Sitting in my chair...I'm stiff with nervousness which is weird because most people are fidgety when nervous. I, however, am stiff...I think it's partly in frustration. My movements are slow...it almost seems like I'm in a movie that someone paused and then put in fastforward...everything looks cleverly thought out and done in very careful measure. This isn't a movie though, and I can't just press stop. Instead-I sprint up the stairs. Up and up and up and up until I get there. I see the door...it's locked...I barge through and sprint over to the filing cabinet. There's hundreds in the room but I know it's this one...I remember. My socks slide against the cold cement floor-my sprint comes to a sudden halt as I grab the cabinet to stop myself. I kneel in front of it as I reach for the handle. I wrap my hand around it and start to pull...locked...I'm infuriated now. I need to open it...I have to open it...I can't stand it anymore...its been so long...its been years...I need this right now...OPEN!! I stand up and kick the filing cabinet in my anger and then I remember I have no shoes on...I bend over in pain...damn that hurts. I run my hands through my hair and scream in anguish...my head is pounding..God, it's pounding! I stand back up and grab the cabinet, throwing it over...it crashes to the floor and the drawers fly open. I stand it back up and thumb through all the files...reading each label....First Memory, Summer 1995, Christmas 2000...No this isn't right. I reach for the next drawer and flip through the files again...How To Ride a Bike, First Kiss, Heartache...No...last file...Honey Suckle(from our back yard in texas), My Mom's Perfume, Clean Laundry, Grandma's Scent...FOUND IT. I rip the papers out of the folder and inhale as deep as possible. What? I feared it for so long and now it's true...I forget. I used to do this all the time and when I took the deep breath I could smell you...I could remember. There were never any stairs before, no locked door, and no impossible to open filing cabinet. My memory deteriorates and it scares me half to death. Your scent was a favorite and now I strive to find it only to remember that I don't remember at all....but I remember you so well...every feature, every word...everything...but right now I just want to remember the way you smell. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| Today is an extremely great day so I have decided to write about things that make me extremely happy. Sort of a tribute...a reminiscence, if you will, of memories that make me smile. So here goes...
I smile when I think about:
Long days at my babysitter's house in Texas...and the early morning cartoons where the only disappointments were the commercials of Keller & Keller type-attorneys that interrupted Woody Wood Pecker to tell me they could get me the money I deserved.
The fact that I honestly tried to parachute off of the top of my bunk bed when I was like 5 or 6...and I smile bigger when I think about the fact that it would have worked if it weren't for that damn dresser in the way.
My Grandma Jan...and how she used to always make sure I wasn't hungry when I was at her house. She made the worst peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, too much jelly, but God I loved them. She refused to ever believe I wasn't hungry. I miss her.
The first soccer game of every season I ever played...because that was the only game I would ever get butterflies and be nervous for.
Turning down alcohol at parties when I could have gotten completely trashed if I wanted to. And then drinking my Beer...Root Beer....IBC to be exact.
My freshman year in high school...God everything was so simply complicated and exciting.
My friends, all of them, even when we're not getting along.
How much my parents have done for me, and how much they truly do love me even though they don't always have the best way of showing it, but hey, neither do I.
The fact that I was born and raised in America (in Texas better yet)...not Bosnia, not Afghanistan, not Iraq, not Ethiopia, not Haiti. But here where I am given chances that transcend what many others could ever even dream of.
My faith in God and that with my faith in him he has enormous faith in me as well. It makes me so much stronger than I know I am sometimes. Even in my weakest moments I am strong with you, Lord.
My first big girl bike and how my mom cried when I learned how to put the lock around it...her baby was growing up.
Hearing my father say "I'm proud of you"...and seeing in his teary eyes that he really means it...because he never cries.
The Lemonade stands that I used to set up with my best friend Jason in Texas...and I smile bigger because I remember that most of our profit came from my parents buying lemonade for way over the set price of 25 cents a cup.
My kindergarten teacher.
The family get-to-gethers where my cousins attack me and I feel like one of the most important people in the world.
How lucky I truly am. | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| | You were hardheaded, stubborn, never let up, talked loudly, loved softly...and in those ways I'm much like you. You were opinionated, set in your ways, cut and dry, hard to convince...and in those ways I'm much like you. Hard from years of struggle and war that didn't show on your face, but it did lie beneath, and we all could tell. You knew the value of a dollar and because of that you were tight with your money...even though you had no reason to be, you had plenty of it. All of us made fun of you for that and the whole family would call you a "tightass". You didn't show often how much or how deeply you loved but we all knew it anyway. You lived alone and I would always wonder if you missed grandma or not, I never really knew when exactly the two of you got divorced. It didn't seem like a good question to ask. Living with you for that year when we moved here from Texas was one of the most incredible experiences of my life, though I didn't know it then. I remember the time you made me Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, ya know the kind with the powder. You didn't add milk or butter to the mix so it was disgusting, but I didn't say a word. Junkfood was never really your expertise, gourmet Italian was more your style. You were an incredible chef, I loved your food. You called my food "JUNKARIA!"...I would laugh at you and you'd try hard to hold back your smile, you were hard like that. You were harder on me than you were on the rest of the grandkids, and I told myself it was because you liked me more. We would argue, make fun of eachother, and debate things loudly, all in good fun. We'd laugh together, and I loved that, because making you laugh seemed like it was one of the hardest things for other people to do. But I made it my expertise. I looked up to you, to be honest. I still do look up to you, out there in that clear blue sky, I look up to you. I remember when you got ill and we were all struck hard with the surprise of your sudden sickness. To us it didn't make any sense because you were the strongest man we all knew so it was hard to believe. I remember the long nights, long weeks, long months, in the hospital. I was a Freshman in high school, I remember it all happened during and right after basketball season. I can't even begin to count the amount of hospital meals I ate that year. You were so sick...God, you were so sick. I would fight with my parents about seeing you, they didn't want me to see you "like that". But I didn't care, I wanted to be next to you. So I was. For as long as I could be. I would hold your hand...you would lay motionless, deep breaths, eyes closed, near unconscious...and I would talk to you. Do you remember the day I sat next to you and held your hand and told you I got all A's on my report card? I remember. I told you and you squeezed my hand...then you mumbled some words in almost an excited tone, you tried so hard to show me you were proud...you were proud. You got sicker and sicker but kept holding on, and I got more and more afraid. I remember walking down to the chapel...sitting in one of the chairs and arguing with God...screaming at him about how he had abandoned you...abandoned me...and how it all wasn't fair. I walked out of the hospital in tears that night. I got in the car with mom to leave the hospital at 10:00 and told her to take me to the cemetery...the one were grandma was buried a few years before. She sounded as though my request was absurd and offered to take me the next night. I told her no, that it had to be that night. She saw the seriousness in my eyes through the tears and we drove to her grave. I got out and asked for some privacy. Grandpa you were on the verge, you were on the cliff, and you were holding on so tight...but your soul was tired and your body was so stricken with the word that seemed almost forbidden to say. To this day I feel like I should whisper it...Cancer. We all knew you were afraid to die...and sometimes it gets to the point where someone has to tell someone it's okay to let go. No one in my family could do that but we knew it needed to be done. I knelt at her grave that night...the cold stiff grass melting into my pants...and I told her everything. I told her you were afraid and that you needed someone to take your hand and guide you...let you know it was all okay. I cried...and she heard me, I know she did. God heard me. The next morning someone called from the hospital to tell me you had passed away. It was 10am. I miss you so much, I got a car the next year and all everyone could say was wow, I wish he was here to see you now. I say that all the time anymore..."if grandpa could only see me now." One of the nights at the hospital when you were really bad, your son, my father, took me into the hallway. I sat on his lap and he told me how much you loved me. He told me how proud of me you were and then he asked me to keep my last name...because there were no boys then to carry on the Family Name...Delmolino. It's a beautiful name. I told him I would carry it on...and then he told me to remember you in everything I did. To make you proud of everything I do in life. He told me you would be at every soccer game now and that I should play my best for you. So I do. And so you know...since you've been at every game since that moment...When I score grandpa, immediately afterwards, I turn, I glance upward...and that "number one" that I throw toward the sky as I sprint across the field...that's for you, I'm pointing at you every time. | | comments: 3 comments or Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | Not The Same by Ben Folds | | Subject: | Head On Collisions | | Time: | 12:38 pm | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/sam/annoyed.gif) annoyed |
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| | Sometimes it's hard to sleep when all you wanna do is think and you can't even do that effectively. It's hard to think lately. I've never really been stressed out, I guess you could say I never knew the meaning of the word until now, that would be fair to say. There's just so much going on lately and it gets hard sometimes. You know sometimes when you have so many thoughts going on that it just drives you insane? It's like your brain becomes a highway of emotion and commotion. Where all your thoughts breeze by eachother at a thousand miles an hour and they obviously don't have any brakes and there's no stoplights because they never stop for you to focus. It's like a huge spaghetti bowl of highways and intersections and you don't have the mind capacity for it all...so it ignores the fact that you exist but your thoughts still go on racing eachother for your attention. And you can hear it in your head, in the quietest room in the world you can hear the roar in your head from the speeding thoughts, and the shouting inside each thought like they tell stories of your life and you can hear excerpts that you wanna focus on. So you stand next to the freeway with an extended arm and an upward thumb just hoping to hitch a ride with a thought that you can comprehend. And when you finally do...when you finally get the mind capacity to give attention to one individual thought...right before you start to understand that thought another thought comes speeding recklessly out of nowhere and slams into you...head on collision. It pisses you off and you bend over and tightly slide your hands against your head and through your hair in frustration. DAMNIT! I just want to focus. Just on one thought. It makes me wanna walk through my mind and set up intersections, stop sings, lights, and rest areas...just to give my thoughts a break from the fast pace they've been constantly keeping up lately. I don't feel in control and I hate that. It's like right before I fall asleep...right when my eyes have closed and I can feel myself slide and fall into that beautiful stage right before I'm completely unconscious to the world...yeah right then...My mind races, my heart beats faster, and the nervousness in my stomach becomes prevalent like never before. Worries, headaches, stresses, fears, everything comes out and the butterflies in my stomach flap their wings like never before. My heart pounds against the walls in communication with my brain and it takes note of every movement and registers every intricate detail of anything in the world that could possibly drive me insane. Damnit make it stop...it feels like these head on collisions are beating the shit out of me. | | comments: 3 comments or Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows-BrandNew | | Subject: | My Plan...Part Of It | | Time: | 11:08 pm | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/sam/anxious.gif) anxious |
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| | So for the past like 2 years I have had my career completely planned, down to every ridiculously intricate and small detail. See...I don't just have a plan, I've got immense ambition and passion for this. I wanna be a certified alcohol and drug abuse counselor. But I don't wanna work with just anyone doing just anything to do with that. I've got bigger plans than that. I want to work with kids between the ages of 12-18. I want to open a camp for these kids...a place for them to come get clean...away from their friends...away from their stresses...away from addiction...a place that for a month or so they can call their own. Their own woods, their own lake, their own quiet place away from distractions and problems, worries and headaches. Away from the drugs or the alcohol. I wanna take these kids into the mountains, into the woods and show them all the intensely beautiful things in life that they would have never thought about otherwise. I want to fight with them about their stupidities and yell at them when they yell at me, argue with them...let them scream at me for all the times they wanted to scream and no one would listen. I want to make them see how they're hurting their family, how they're hurting themselves...how I was hurt and how it still hurts me to the day. I want to share my stories with them and hope, just hope that maybe it might make a difference. I want them to see God in the sunshine and in the cool breeze that flies across the lake and onto the shore brushing against your hair like nothing else in the world can. I want to pull them out of the hole that they've dug and show them that there's more to life than the little that they've known....or on the other hand, show them that there's less to some people's lives than the overshare that they've had. I want to laugh with them and smile with them...I want them to see in my personalized smile and look that I care, God do I care!...And I'll pray at night that they saw it in my eyes, in my touch, in my smile, in my every single notion. I wanna give speeches that make them think, seriously think like they've never thought before. I want to make them do obstacle courses as a team and learn that they don't have to do everything on their own! Make them learn that sometimes someone helping you do something means more than figuring out how to do it on your own...it's okay to ask for help! It's okay to make mistakes! I want to watch them fight with eachother and then pull them together and make them see how pety it was to act so hardcore. I want to call this R.O.U.G.H. CAMP. Standing for "Reaching Out Until Greatness Happens Camp." Because that's what I'll be doing...but it'll be hard...not just for them but for me too. I'll reach and reach and reach...and I wont stop reaching until I know I've made some sort of difference. Something, anything, even if it's so small you can barely see it. But yeah.... | | comments: 3 comments or Leave a comment |
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