Humming bird?

Dear Diary,

Today’s entry will be brought to you by the letter ‘H’. I was ready for another picture post so ‘H’ will be for Humming bird, at least I think it’s a humming bird so that’s what I’m going to call it. I am very sad that I did not have my nicer camera with me when I saw this little guy, so the pictures are not the best but I wanted to share, so here are pictures of what I’m guessing is a type of humming bird, if it’s not and you know what it is please post in the comments and let me know. (if it's not a humming bird this post will be handsome bird)

Until next time,

Me

Games

Dear Diary,

Today’s entry will be brought to you by the letter ‘G’. Gee I had a hard time thinking of a topic for ‘G’ Gullibility? Gluttony? Guns? Gloomy? Grumpy? I figured that after such a heavy topic yesterday I should probably keep it short and light. Maybe something I enjoy, then it hit me games! SO and I are pretty boring people, no clubbing or bar hoping for us. No we spend our evenings watching shows or putzing around the internet. However if we visit friend or have friends over we play games, board games, card games, lawn games, sometimes we even play kid games; I recently played Hi-Ho Cherry-O for the first time. I think the best way to spend time with friends is playing games; you think, laugh, argue and learn things you never knew you didn’t want to know.

Until next time,

Me

PS. what is your favorite game?

Failure

Dear Diary,

Today’s entry will be brought to you by the letter ‘F”. Since I’ve already got a post about flatulence of death, I guess for this challenge ‘F’ will be for failure. Oh did you forget that I’m a bit of a negative person? Well here is your reminder. There are many times when I look at my life and feel like I’m a failure. I’ve failed to obtain my goal education wise. I failed to be there when my mother was sick and dying. I failed to help my older sibling move forward after my mother passed away. I failed to help YS care for my mother when she was at her worst. I have failed to let the past go and start fresh in my relationship with my father. I have failed to find a job in over a year. I have failed in so many things; the failure that hurts the most is when I failed to keep our baby alive. I have failed as a person.

Logically I know that there were many medical problems that prevented our child from surviving but in my heart I feel like I failed, I should have been able to do something. This was not where I intended this diary entry to go. I didn’t think I was ready to talk about this, maybe when I wrote scars it helped me more than I realized. I don’t know but I guess since it came out I’m ready to share a little bit more of the pain I’ve experienced. I guess since it came out in a post about failure you have realized that there are things beyond my control that I internalize as personal failures. The loss of my baby is on the top of that list. Our baby was stillborn and there was nothing I could do, there were numerous serious medical complications with our baby. I think that’s enough for now this was years ago and the pain is still there but we have survived the pain and I guess somehow by surviving I’m not a complete failure. There are things I can’t change, but nothing I can’t learn from. Our baby taught me so much more that I would have thought possible in that short time, I hope that I never fail to remember those lessons.

Until next time,

Me

P.S. Next time wont be so disheartening, I hope.

Exciting and exhilarating

Dear Diary,

Today’s entry will be brought to you by the letter ‘E”. E is for exciting and exhilarating. Adjectives that I wish described me better. My idea of exciting is white water rafting with an experienced guide. My idea of exhilarating is hitting the snooze button an extra time. Not that I think I have to go sky diving or get into confrontations with people who cut me off in traffic to have real excitement. I just wish that every once in a while I had the courage to go out on a limb and do something really exhilarating like hitting the snooze button two extra times, or taking our raft down the rapids without a  hired guide. To do something that will thrill the adventurer who lives inside me and longs to be let out every so often.

Until next time,

Me

Daffodil days

Dear Diary,

Today’s entry is brought to you by the letter ‘D’. D is for daffodils, because they are blooming and I felt like it’s been a while since I posted a picture (so lucky you you get two). I know the last picture I posted was a daffodil, and that’s okay because I’m ready for spring and to me that is what daffodils mean. They are one of the first flowers to bloom and they are bright and cheerful after months of gray. Daffodils are sunshine on cloudy spring days, and I’m not ashamed to admit that this winter has seemed long and I need the joy that bursts from these bright flowers. These pictures are a fun perspective I think and it’s got a happy cloudy blue sky. This picture says spring time to me, I hope you enjoy the daffodils.

Until next time,

Me

Camping

Dear Diary,

Today’s entry is brought to you by the letter ‘C’ is that opening getting old? Good thing there are only 26 letters in the alphabet. My topic or word for the letter C is camping because it is one of my favorite activities. The only negative thing about camping is the actual sleeping part, the hard ground and cold nights. I love hiking or rafting during the day, building a campfire, cooking over a camp fire, the dark sky full of twinkling stars that somehow seem brighter when camping. I love waking up to birds chirping and chipmunks chattering. I love reading until the rest of the world wakes up. I love walking to the bathrooms with flashlights and talking late into the night. Family camping trips are some of my earliest memories from childhood, and some of my happiest memories from high school, and some of my fondest memories of outings with SO. I hope that camping will always be one of my favorite activities.

Until next time,

Me

Best Buddy aka BB

Dear Diary,

Today’s entry is brought to you by the letter ‘B’. B is for Best Buddy and really my Best Buddy really is brilliant. I know that so far I’ve really only aired complaints about BB, and I want you to know that I know BB is not perfect. Then again no one is because there is really no such thing BB is the closest thing to a perfect friend that exists. BB is more than you could ever want in a friend. BB is reliable, outgoing, fun, intelligent, humorous (although BB would say freaking high-larry-us), most important of all I know that BB will always be there for me no matter what. Maybe BB will not be there for every little thing but for the most important things I know I can count on BB. So although I probably don’t appreciate my most fantastic friend as much as I should I would like to remind myself how incredibly luck I am to have BB in my life.

Until next time,

Me

Apprehension

Dear Diary,

Today’s entry is brought to you by the letter ‘A’. Apprehension is the ‘a’ word that comes to mind, not like you apprehend a criminal more the “anticipation of adversity or misfortune”. There are many things changing in my life right now, I’m sure most will eventually be for the better, but right now I’m very apprehensive about said changes. I don’t know why I’m apprehensive about these changes; it probably has something to do with the cost of them and our lack of income. These changes are not really a choice they were kind of forced by multiple sources; I guess if they were a choice I wouldn’t be so apprehensive about it. Right now I feel lots of scary ‘A’ words, apprehensive, annoyed, artificial and a little anticipatory. I know that normally I’m pessimistic but I’m trying to be optimistic on this one, I’ll let you know how it turns out.

Until next time,

Me

Scars

Dear Diary,

SO and I went to visit some friends this weekend. We visit these friends a lot because they are awesome.  SO has been best friends with Argumentative Friend (who will for all future posts be known as AF) longer than I have known SO. We have done so many things with AF and honestly AF and I get along like siblings, maybe a little better but we can argue about anything. AF and PPF are a couple and they have children, who are some of the most awesome kids I’ve ever met.

So far this has nothing to do with what I was going to talk about so refocusing now.  I wanted to talk about AF younger sibling (who will from now forward be referred to as M2). The last we saw M2 was about 7 years ago and M2 was only like 10 or so.  A lot happened in AF and M2’s family and they had to deal with a lot of hard stuff that was very emotional and would challenge someone who was much more mature than the child that M2 was when the stuff happened.  M2 began not eating and cutting as a way to gain some control of a life that was completely out of control.  I knew that M2 was in a facility being cared for because of these problems. In my mind I pictured the little 10 year old child that I remembered, but frail and broken. I was very surprised when we saw M2 and M2 was all grown up, healthy, strong and had turned out to be a very attractive refined person when I remembered a goof-ball of a child.

I mentioned my shock and how good M2 looked to someone and the person said something along the lines of yeah except M2 has scars (from cutting). I realize that cutting is harmful but I am impressed with M2 for surviving, I know that M2 didn’t want to survive. The thing is everyone has scars from the challenges in their life. Most people get to bury their scars deep in their hearts where no one can see them. Sometimes the heart just can’t hold all the hurt and it leaves scars on the surface.

 I am going to share something that I don’t really want other people to know ( I am trying to type the words and they get stuck, my arms feel tingly because my mind is telling me not to share my secret, this diary is not private). I have never admitted what I am attempting to share to anyone in writing or verbally, during the most challenging time of my life I was going to a psychiatrist and I hid this secret from her as well. I can’t make myself type the words in relation to myself I can type them and talk about them in regards to M2, but it’s just too much, it’s too personal. This is a secret no body knows and it hurts to think about sharing it, I’m sure that SO must know but SO has never commented on it, I think SO understands my pain. I also feel that when I work up the courage to revel this secret most people will think it’s nothing but to me it’s huge.  Here goes if I don’t do this now I will chicken out and the tension in my shoulders will cause them to snap.

I have scars on the surface too.

M2 has scars in places that cloths don’t cover; I hid my scars where the rest of the world couldn’t see them. I hid them because I knew people would judge but there was so much pain inside that I needed a way to release it. It was like letting air out of an inflatable ball before it pops. I know how I dealt with my pain was not healthy, but I also know that if I didn’t released the pressure I would have popped just like a ball that has been over inflated. I was over inflated with pain, and then sometimes I felt like I wasn’t feeling enough pain for what I was experiencing and I started using that same release valve to remind myself that there was pressure to release.  I honestly thought that once I wrote the words, I would some how feel relieved that I had shared. I don’t I just feel scared and exposed.  I have so much more to say but I can not continue.

Until next time,

Me

Struggles with weight loss

Dear Diary,

I think today might be the day to get a little more personal. That’s right today I am going to dive into something that is hard to talk about and is a topic that I find embarrassing. Today I am going to talk about my weight. I have been overweight for as long as I can remember. The crazy thing is I remember kids in elementary school giving me a hard time for being fat, but I look at my old class pictures now and I’m taller than most of the kids and bigger, but I was not fat. I wonder if because I was told I was fat from such a young age, I just believed it. What do they call that a self-fulfilling prophecy?

No matter what lead to my becoming over weight, I am over weight now.  I get frustrated because some people don’t think about what they are eating or how much exercise they get and are thin regardless. There were times when I was actively trying to loose weight and it seemed like nothing I did made any difference. I know they say it’s all about numbers, calories in should be less than calories burned, but sometimes that just doesn’t cut it. There were times when I was unhealthy in my attempt to loose weight; I was so desperate to fit into society’s standard of attractive (which means skinny).

The thing I find interesting is most people think I don’t care at all about my weight, because I don’t talk about it. Really I don’t talk about it because I’m embarrassed about it, and think that if I ignore it other people will not notice. At the same time I think that every time I eat something everyone thinks rude thoughts. For example if I eat something unhealthy in my mind people are thinking “Do you really think you need that? Don’t you think you’re fat enough?” Or if I eat something healthy like a carrot in my mind people are thinking “That’s right fatty, you need to loose weight”.  Same thing goes for exercise in my mind everyone is watching me and judging how fast I go or how much I jiggle, because that’s right I jiggle. I don’t tell people when I am trying to loose weight not just because it’s embarrassing, but also because they will critic my size and notice it more, and what if I don’t loose weight?

It took a long time but I have come to terms with my weight, don’t get me wrong I still battle with my weight and body issues. I no longer starve myself or exercise excessively. I realize that I need to pay attention to what I eat, but when I eat poorly I don’t beat myself up and deprive myself of everything but celery and water (okay I was never that bad, although I wished I was). I realize that I need to get lots of exercise because that’s what my body needs, but I don’t force myself to stay on the stair climber until I burn over 1,000 calories (I did that once it took 2 ½  hours and I felt so sick and light headed afterward).

Right now I am really bad at eating healthy and exercising but that’s okay because those who care about me don’t care if I need to loose weight. Those who care about me just want me to be happy and healthy. I have been working on getting my eating back on track, but I’m taking it slow and making sure that I can stick to it long term. I am looking into exercising programs, but I’m looking at them realistically to make sure the program I choose is something I will be willing to do 3 years from now.  I am never going to like zucchini and I am never going to be a runner, trying to force things I don’t like on myself will only make me miserable and lead to failure every time.

I am learning that my worth is not based on my weight, something that I have believed for years.  I have a lot to offer the world that is not related to size or appearance. I am learning to care about myself the way my loved ones care about me. My goal is to learn to love myself unconditionally, this is something that should be natural, but in reality I have more conditions for the love of my self than I have for the random homeless stranger on the corner.  I am under no delusions, I know that this is going to be a long process with highs and lows, I also know that I am worth the effort.

Until Next time,

Me 

Involuntary attempted suicide

Dear Diary,

Thus far I have talked about things that I felt were somewhat important or thought provoking, even if only to me. And this entry is no different; well maybe it’s a little different. This entry is about involuntary attempted suicide.  What is involuntary attempted suicide? In my case that would be my body trying to kill me while my mind has no knowledge of my body’s treason. You are still not sure what I’m talking about, I can be clearer but you are probably not going to like it.

 Yesterday I was driving home and I was feeling rather gassy, I knew it wasn’t going to wait till I got home, and I was in the car by myself so I let ‘er rip. I know this is not something anyone wants to know. It was the worst smell I have ever smelled. My eyes got all water and I could barely breath, I hesitated to roll down the window because it was raining. Then my brain function returned and reminded me that it was a little water as apposed to imminent death. know not what you were planning to read today, I’m sorry but where else can you talk about a near death experience like this?

Untile next time,
Me

Grammar Tyrants

Dear Diary,

I have found a draw back to making this diary public; there are topics I’m afraid to address. However, I have made a commitment to myself to use this public forum as a diary. Looks like I have also found a benefit to having a small following. Here I begin my attempt to break out of my comfort zone. The topic that I am currently apprehensive to address is my take on spelling and grammar. I am admittedly terrible at spelling and part lazy part ignorant when it comes to grammar. I am pretty good with using the right words in the right places, but punctuation leaves me scratching my head. Why do we need a comma, semi-colon, and a colon? 

That last sentence is why I didn’t want to address this topic, because now someone will feel obliged to tell me why. Not to mention make them read my diary entries with a more critical eye.  I guess I appreciate that. The problem is I’ve been taught before, it just doesn’t stick. Maybe I’m just not a detail oriented person or maybe I don’t care enough. Either way sometimes I misuse or omit punctuation; anyone who has read past posts already knows this. To clear up any potential misconceptions here, if you see a spelling or grammar error feel free to tell me. Maybe with enough repetition it will sink in. Hey you never know.

So now that I have admitted my short comings with regards to the English language (I have many more with other languages). The point I want to get to is my feelings regarding grammar tyrants. To be blunt I feel like grammar tyrants need to get over themselves and start listening to the thoughts and ideas expressed and just let the punctuation and misused words go. I see so many comments to thoughtful posts and articles picked apart by grammar tyrants, is that really necessary? I understand that grammar might be one of your strengths but that doesn’t make your ideas more valid. I have heard the argument that it confuses the reader; do you really want to claim this? (If someone writes “Regardless of weather the child dressed her age or not, rape is rape.” instead of “Regardless of whether the child dressed her age or not, rape is rape.”  with your intellectual powers you cannot determine that, this comment has nothing to do with the temperature outside?) If that is the case, if you honestly thought that comment had something to do with state of the atmosphere, you have my sympathy and may continue to post remarks about grammar.

If you did understand that the person used the wrong word for whatever reason, then listen to the message. Grammar tyrants go on and on about what the abundance of grammatical errors means for our future.  I wonder what it means when people spend so much time looking for errors that they miss the message. I wonder what it means when people are quick to submit corrections rather than provide constructive solutions. We understand that you are smart and want the rest of the world to acknowledge it, and we do we admire your sentences with nothing left dangling. There are many people who do not have the education to match your grammar abilities, but life has taught them many things that are worth listening to. So please put down your red pens and listen to the intended meaning. I’m sure that I have given you many opportunities to use your red pen here. If you must employ your red pen of power do it here where nothing much is being said.

Until next time,

Me

Childhood dreams

Dear Diary,

Today's post is a writing prompt from studio thirty plus, the prompt was "childhood dreams" here are where my thoughts lead me with this prompt.

When I was a child I had the same common dreams that most children have, to grow up to become a veterinarian, a firefighter, an film star or an astronaut. As you probably guessed I am none of these and no longer have the desire to move into any of these career fields. As I got older my career ambitions changed with my interests; with all of my childhood dreams eventually getting lost along the way as life became more about reality rather than fantasy.

As I got older my dreams were less about what I would be doing and more about what my life would be like. I dreamed of growing up and owning a home (which I would layout and build on graph paper). I dreamed of getting married (nothing specific just a lavish wedding to an ambiguous person). I dreamed of having children (no specific number just the right amount to complete our family). I dreamed of having a dog (again not a particular breed, just a loving pet). The problem as time goes by life has a way of progressing whether your life matches your expectations or not. As life goes on I realize these are things society told me I should dream of, these are things that every child is supposed to dream of. What about what I really want in my heart? Why was I never encouraged to explore what was in my heart and let it blossom, why was I given other peoples dreams and told to take them as my own?

As a child you are given things to dream of.
Everyone should want to be a hero or celebrity. What about people who don’t like being the center of attention?
Everyone should want to get married. What about people who fall in love with someone of the same gender?
Everyone should want to have children of their own. What about people who are infertile?
Everyone should want to own a home. What about people who want to move often or don’t want to worry about home repairs?
Everyone should want to have a pet. What are the people who are allergic to animals supposed to do?

Is this really fair to give every child the same expectations for different lives and experiences?  The child me would be very disappointed with the results of my current life, and for quite a while so was the grown-up me. I did not become a celebrity of any kind; I am a faceless office worker who pushes paper, I like that I can act crazy and it doesn’t matter because nobody knows who I am. I am not married; I am in a committed relationship and feel lucky to love SO and know the SO loves me. I do not have children, SO and I love children, we tried to have children and found that a biological child was not the path for us (that is a post for another time). I do not own a home; I rent and right now I relish the fact that if something breaks it is not my problem. I do not have a pet, and I love that I don’t have to clean up after one or find someone to care for it if we want to go out of town.

Does that mean that I never want any of these things? No dreams are fluid they change with life and experience. Eventually I would like to own a home when I’m ready to pick one place and stay there for a while. SO and I would love to foster children and maybe eventually adopt, but life has more to teach us before we feel we are ready to take that step. Will SO and I ever get married, maybe, but right now we have a good, healthy relationship that married couples everywhere should envy (to be honest I’m afraid marriage might ruin the perfection of what we have now).  As for a pet, I love animals, but I do not feel that people should have ownership of other animals.

The point of this is children will always dream of what society tells them they should want. Society needs to change what we tell children. Children should dream of being happy. Children should dream of feeling unconditional love from their future partner. Children should dream of their love being accepted and appreciated for what it is. Children should dream of a career where they feel excited to go to work. Children should dream of all the other wonderful things that are in their hearts. If a child has a love of space, then let them dream of being an astronaut, but don’t tell them that all children should want to be astronauts. If a child loves to dance, then let them dream of being a ballerina, but don’t tell them that all children should want to be ballerinas. Some kids are afraid of the dark, and some kids are not graceful. Some children dream of a faceless job where they excel. Some children dream of someone to love them so much they will not worry about marriage. Some children dream of being an average person that blends into the majority. Some children don’t know what they dream, but when they find their dream they just know.

Looking back, I was a combination of those last few. Society would not accept my dream so I dreamed the dreams I was told I should dream, but I followed the dream that was in my heart. I can’t say that my life is perfect or that I don’t dream that things will change, but I can say my life is pretty good. To others my life might look more like a nightmare than a dream, sometimes it looks that way to me too. I just know that when I really think about the things I was told to dream, I know they couldn’t have made me any happier than I am now, and in some cases those dreams caused me a lot of pain.

Well that was rather long, and personal. I don't know if this is where I thought I would go with this when I started writting it, but hopfuly by exploring these thoughts I have learned something about myself and the expectations put on my by society verses the expectations I put on myself. Always something more to ponder...

Until next time,

Me

Song lyrics that annoy

Dear Diary,

The radio station I listen to plays this Katy Perry song called Fireworks ALL the time but some of the lyrics are annoying to me. "After a hurricane comes a rainbow" I hate this line. I might be a cynic here but I think a rainbow is not sufficient consolation for surviving a hurricane and all the destruction it leaves in its wake. It's kind of like saying I will beat you until you wish for death, but afterward I'll show you my dazzling smile. This song is so up-beat and positive and I really like it, that one line just grates. Now I realize look at the bright side and all that, but sometimes the bright side seems like a stretch.

It's not just in this song, but life in general where the negative is disproportionate to the positive you are expected to enjoy. Maybe it’s about perspective, I would have a hard time enjoying a rainbow after a hurricane, because there are people who get to enjoy rainbows after a mild thunderstorm, plus they get lightning which is also pretty cool. In fact the most beautiful, vivid, double rainbow I’ve ever seen was on a day that was warm, mostly sunny with just a little drizzle.

Perhaps the problem is my inability to focus on the good things in my life. I am naturally pessimistic; however it seems like the bad things in life are really big and the good things are tiny. Time for another of my bad analogies (lucky you second one in this entry); imagine you have a scale like the justice scales, on one side you have a tree (just one, like a Christmas tree with no decorations) on the other side you have a handful of sand (in that handful you have thousands of grains of sand). Now I ask you how is that handful of sand supposed to balance the tree. That is how I see life, I know very depressing.

This is where my mind goes every time I hear that one line, the rest of the song is so positive, but I get lost in these depressing thoughts. In my mind I see pictures of areas that have been devastated by a hurricane, houses turned into toothpicks, roads turned into littered rivers and I wonder if the people affected would even notice there was a rainbow. Thousands of people died due to Hurricane Katrina, I wonder if their families would be consoled with a rainbow. Even if it was more beautiful and vivid than the double rainbow I saw on that beautiful afternoon, somehow I doubt it. I know that I would trade NEVER seeing another rainbow for one day with just one loved one who has passed away.

Sometimes I hear songs and I wonder if these people have ever experienced loss or hardship. Alright I think that is enough heavy thoughts for today.

Until Next time,
Me

If only I could see my life they way I see the lives of other people

Dear Diary,

Today I've got a strange little insight, SO and I had a discussion today about how different people we know go about different aspects of there lives. We talked about how people would have more time if they did this, or how someone else would be less stressed if they did this. Why is it that problems seem so obvious when they are not your problems?

I am sure that people will read this diary and say if that blogger would just do this their life would be so much easier. Why is it we cannot see these things for ourselves? Are we too close to the situation? Too emotionally involved? What is it that makes our own lives so challenging, yet we are able to see solutions to the problems of others at just a glance?

Maybe it’s because we don’t have all the details, maybe other people’s lives are just as complicated as our own. Maybe we see a plastic bottle floating in their otherwise pristine lake of life and think if they would just get rid of that bottle it would be perfect, but they know that bottle is connected to a huge drain and if they remove the bottle the lake will all go down the drain and dry out.

It’s easy to answer an equation with just a few steps, but not as easy if there are parenthesis, exponents and logarithms. I guess the moral of this story is I should focus on my own stuff. I need to remember that what I see on the surface is not all that is involved. I don’t think SO and I talking about other people’s lives was a bad thing (it’s not like it was gossip exactly), I think it shows we care and want to help, but ultimately you can’t fix things for other people they’ve got to figure it out for themselves. 

Until next time,

Me

Dew drops and a daffodil

I like the dew drop in this picture.

This picture didn't come out as I had hoped. I don't know what it is about it, it's not a favorite, but I still like it.

Roommates can be friends, but friends should never be roommates

Dear Diary,

I have wanted to write about this for a while, but I'm having a hard time articulating exactly what I'm feeling and experiencing. I have a feeling this is going to be a rambling post with thought tangents branching out in all directions, but we will see. The topic that I'm going to attempt to tackle is how living with BB has changed our friendship, my views of BB and my views of myself.

The most general way to put this is that by living with BB I have somehow lost my best buddy. BB will always be one of my closest pals, but there is an element that died when we became roommates. First off being around someone all the time is quite different than hanging out with someone (generally during good times) then going home to different locations. When you are hanging out you naturally interact the whole time, because you will have your quiet alone time latter, but when you live with someone it's hard to know when the other person is enjoying quiet alone time and you will be intruding and when they would welcome an interruption. Also when I am moving from one location to another location and I pass BB, there is an awkwardness. I feel I have to acknowledge BB or seem rude, but at the same time I was on my way to do something and don't want to get involved in a conversation right then.

Mostly I miss the open communication that is natural between best buddies. Normally when a roommate does something to annoy you but it's not something you feel is confrontation worthy, you rant about it to your best buddy and they have your back, even when it's something stupid like not rinsing out the dishrag after using it. If your best buddy is your roommate, where do you turn? When you and your significant other have a disagreement, you hash it out with your best buddy. If you live with your significant other and your best buddy that puts your best buddy in an awkward situation because they have to live with your significant other too.

I have learned a lot about BB that is hard to reconcile with the person I knew before, or thought I knew. For the longest time I was under the impression that BB was much smarter than I was, but living together I have learned that BB is trivia fact smart. I guess I was under the impression that because BB was the first to speak up and replied with confidence BB must be correct, even if I was thinking something else was correct. Previous to our living together, I was under the impression that BB's stories were closer to the actual event, rather than as embellished as I see they are. I have learned that BB struggles with self esteem when before I was under the impression that BB was confident and unfazed by the remarks of others.

I have learned that I am a stronger person than I believed. I have realized that by comparing myself to how I perceived other people was not fair to me and was skewing my self perception, because no matter how it seems everyone has their own struggles. I have learned that I judge those I care about harsher than I judge strangers. I hold the people I care about to standards that are sometimes unrealistic for who they are. I am now aware that I need to work on acceptance and understanding of my loved ones. I understand that even your best buddy wants you to see them in the best light possible and hide their flaws. My eyes have been opened to the fact that no matter how annoying BB is, no matter how embellished BB's stories are, no matter how many times BB takes credit for my thoughts or insights, no matter how much I secretly cuss BB; I will always be there for BB and I will always care about BB. I only hope that when we are no longer roommates we can renew our friendship to what it was before.

Until next time,
Me

The end is just another beginning

I enjoy this photo for so many reasons, it's hard to know where to start. I appreciate the different textures, the brittle shell, the whispy soft seed fluff. I smile at how the light in the fluffy seed stuff gives it a bit of inner glow. I admire how the focus of the plant is so crisp while the background is just a blur.

A special place

Dear Diary,
Saying good-bye is never easy. Especially if you're saying good-bye to the only place you've ever known. Especially if it is a place that holds most of your memories.

I look around one last time, the ugly grayish white fake wood paneling with the spot that looks like the Hulk when it's dark and you're trying to sleep. The sea of multi-tone blue shag carpeting where the mermaids would sit while I told them stories and the dolphins would jump through my hula-hoop, it's been a while since my sea friends came to play.

It's empty now, in my mind I take my things out of the truck and put them back where they go, my bed on the left side of the room YS's bed on the right (it still irks me that YS got to be near the window even though I am older)  I pull out the white and yellow striped sheets and the light blue comforters and make the beds… something is wrong; that's right YS never made the bed, I yank that comforter off and drop it on the floor where it always ended up. Now I put the white dresser with three drawers on my side and three drawers on YS's side between the beds. The small table lamp with the plain beige shade goes in the middle of the dresser because I’m supposed to share (just a little closer to my side, so I can see better to read). Books I need my stack of books, my mind finds them, not the books that were there most recently but my favorites through the years, picture books mixed with chapter books. My dual deck AM/FM boom box sits behind my books, I can’t see much of it from the door, but a little black peeks over the edge of the dresser toward my bed, and the antenna pokes out from behind my stack of books.

Now for the toy boxes that Santa brought us for Christmas years ago, the ones that mom made, hand painted with a soft top so we could sit on them. That’s right they go at the foot of our beds, now my mind fills them with all of my beloved toys that did not make it to the truck, the only toys on the truck are the ones that lived on my bed. I need to put them on the bed near my pillow there that’s better the stuffed dinosaur pajama holder from grandpa the Christmas before he died, and my big bear that has guarded me for as long as I can remember, the smaller bear that my mom made.

I notice the walls are blank, still just the ugly paneling, the window is big and empty looking onto the street, where are the curtains? I go to the dumpster and I find the dingy yellow curtains with the horizontal slit at the bottom where YS tore them while fighting with pirates. I put my shelf back up and put up my special collection of what-nots. I put up YS’s stuffed toy hammock (I know I always complained about it but the place is just not right without that burst of color) and I put the ugly orange monkey hanging down because that’s where it goes. I put up the water color of the ocean that our uncle made many years before we were born, it’s not the greatest picture and it’s in a cheap plastic black frame, but it’ always been centered over the dresser. I take all my drawings and hang them back over my bed; I’m a very good artist, maybe when I have nieces or nephews I’ll draw them a picture to hang in there room. I hang YS’s magazine cut outs and school art projects back where they were.

There now it’s all set in my mind, everything unpacked and put where it goes. I focus all of my energy on the scene before me. It’s important to remember because if I ever want to come back to this place this will be the only door to the only bedroom I have ever known.

Until next time,
Me

People my age

Dear Diary,

I was wasting time on facebook today and I realized that I'm not like other people my age. I look at people my age and I just don't fit with that group. Some examples:

People my age are not supposed to be renting a crap ass apartment with their SO and BB.
They have mortgages on houses with families or condos living it up bachelor style.

People my age have careers, they have a place they are supposed to go a set number of days a week, and it might be a crappy career, but it's one they chose.
Not a job they take because it's the only thing they can get, that only lasts long enough to pay the bills for a while.

People my age have families (see most of the people my age on facebook) or live extravagant lifestyles (look at my friend who has been snowboarding like 100 times this season, or my other friend who decided to go the Hawaii for a long weekend because it was something new) or they do both (like my friends who took their family which includes 2 children to Greece, because that's where they wanted to vacation).
They do not hope to do these things some day,  they do it now.

Why do people my age do it now, because if we wait too much longer we will be old. I have total respect for people who do adventurous things in their 70's and 80's (and don't get me wrong I have a good 40 + years before I'm in that age bracket) and you have to have some admiration for people who start families latter in live, because really kids are a lot of work, and who wants to be chasing toddlers for retirement? I realize that this is a very pessimistic view, but I think we have already established I'm a pessimistic person.

Point? Right sometimes I loose sight of that. I remember when I was learning to read in elementary school; the kids who were advanced were the eagles, the kids who were average were bluebirds, and the slow kids were sparrows (kind of mean right since sparrow is a more difficult word to figure out than bluebird). Anyway I was an eagle and I always felt bad for the sparrows because they were so far behind the rest of us. Now I feel like I'm the only sparrow watching the eagles soar and hearing the bluebirds sing, while I'm doing nothing. How did I go from figuring things out so easily to always feeling like I'm trying to catch  up?

Does anyone else ever feel like they become more developmentally challenged as they progress through life?