Driving to the Edge Just For the View

I really got to thinking today, and even though I wasn't planning on posting anything until I got my thoughts together about the huge story I want to tell, I decided that this was worth posting. It's currently 3am and I am waiting for Aunt Bev's video to finish transferring itself over to ITunes so I can burn it on a DVD and give it to her. I made it for her for her birthday.

I was surfing the internet just minutes ago, because I needed something to do while this video transferred itself, as it's often time consuming. One of the first things I do frequently when I open my browswer is check Keltie Colleen's blog. I adore her. She is an amazing writer, a talented dancer, and seems to be a pretty kick ass person. I'm always waiting to read what she writes, and I find her to be so inspiring. Tonight, once again, she has completely inspired me, so much so that I'm sure I'll be writing this blog past the finishing of the video, instead of sleeping when it's done. I am okay with this.

I have never been the kind of person to really "get" dancing, yet I find myself fascinated by it, moved by it, and wanting to be one of those amazing dancers, which I am not. That doesn't stop me from dancing like no one's watching, when people usually are and choose to laugh with me over my sad skills. Tonight, though, one of Keltie's routines that she posted on her blog finally made me "get" dancing. It all clicked. I understood it all, and for those two minutes and seven seconds, my eyes never left the screen. I was captivated. The dancing moved me, and the song. It's both that got me thinking, but I will share the lyrics from the song that inspired me to write this.

"The way we fight. The times I cry. We come to blows every night. The passion's there, so it's got to be right. Right?" I Don't Believe You by Pink

This song has been a permanent fixture in my head over the past few weeks, since things went down with the ex friend whose story I have yet to tell. The lyrics are powerful, and in a way they have nothing to do with my situation, and everything all at once. I realized a lot of things about myself just through what Keltie's dance was saying, or at least the way I was interpreting it, and the lyrics.

There's a lot of things that I don't understand about love, although I do believe it's the most important thing in life. Nothing else matters but that, yet it's so hard to find. Keeping it is even more difficult. Finding the right person is next to impossible. I still believe there is a right person for everyone. A Prince Charming and a Cinderella. If love was supposed to last for days, it would be easy to find, but it's supposed to last forever, that's why you have to search for it, and covet it while you have it, without choking it, or killing its air.

I am a very strong woman. I don't take shit from people, especially men. I'm sure a lot of this has to do with my father and the way he treated me, but if that's what it took for me to learn something that takes most girls a lifetime, I'm okay with that. Sometimes I wonder if I'm too harsh, but I know I am not. Especially considering what I've been through, and how my instincts were always right about someone, yet I didn't want to be too hard on them and tried and tried, even when I knew it was over. I ended up getting even more hurt this way.

It has always been easy for me to walk away from someone emotionally, because I just know when things are over, or aren't working out. I know this very quickly in any sort of relationship, friends or more. But just because it's easy emotionally, doesn't mean it is physically. I've disconnected from the relationship because I know it's not right, yet I have issues walking away. I want to see the good in people. I want to keep giving them chances when they don't deserve it.

I am capable of walking away right then and there and being totally okay with it, but I always feel like that person needs me. This is mostly because the people I know I need to walk away from, are emotional leeches who need someone to hang off of and suck their blood, so they do need me. They need to use me. I'm the kind of person who would do anything for anyone, so even though it makes no sense, it's easy to see why I can't walk away when needed.

I want to see what happens, or if the person will change, even though I know nothing will and they won't, because I don't want to feel like I gave up too early. I feel like I just have to know and not have the what if factor looming over my head, even though I do already know the truth in my heart. Sometimes I wonder why I'm like this, but deep inside I know. I just want to do what's best for everyone, and so I hang in there, don't walk away, give people millions of chances, and try, so that when I walk away, I have no more questions, no more what ifs.

When I do get out of the relationship, I am fine. I am always fine. I'm a little bruised, but it's never anything that I can't fix very easily. I don't go into a mass depression, or beat myself up over it. I stayed in it long enough to do things that let me know that it's not me, it's the kind of person they are, and that I can never change them. I've been in relationships where it's been me, so I'm not saying that I haven't, and I know, too, when it is me, and am not afraid to admit it. I am always okay with my decision to walk away, whether I end up being disappointed in myself, or the other party, I can deal. I can keep my head high and I can move on. I never haven't been able to.

The person I am going to write about soon, I stuck with for three years. I knew it was over last year, yet I hung in there. I gave them a chance. I told them to stop hurting me, that I was going to walk away, and if they really wanted to change, to come to me and I would help them. They were were drowning, killing themselves with substances. They treated me like shit and made the substances more important than friendship, which was when I knew I'd never be able to help this person.

They did come to me, though. They said they were ready to change. I gave it my all like I always do, because I'm always all in with someone, which is maybe why I can tell so quickly if things are going to work out or not, what kind of person they really are. I can always see it, even though sometimes I don't want to, refuse to.

This person lied to me. They did not want help. They wanted someone to use, to do what they needed someone to do for them, and I am not that person. I do not regret the way things ended. I know now that they will never change, and they will always treat me like shit, hurt me, and want to use me. This is a far cry from the best friend I had three years ago, the only person I could tell anything to, trusted, and was safe with. But people change, and I know this as much as I know the sun will rise in the morning. (Unless you live in Alaska and are currently under six months of darkness, then not so much.)

I never wish anyone ill will. Sometimes, just for a few seconds, I ponder not caring what happens to them, but that's not me. You could be my worst enemy, and I still wish you no harm. At the end of the day, you have to live with yourself, I do not. I am happy with who I am, comfortable with it, and I enjoy being myself. I'm not afraid to be. The way I figure it, I am not the best person, but I am going to be okay because of all those things listed above. The people I walked away from have all been self masochists in one way or another, and they will not be. I figure that is bad enough punishment for them, but even that I wish they didn't have to go through. I believe it's karma. You get back what you give to yourself and others.

Respect yourself, or no one else will.

Superheroes From A Parallel Universe

Today has been a rather odd, exciting, random, hopeful, fearless kind of day. With that comes the promise of me normally feeling a little bit beyond shitty at night, and lots of random things come out of my mouth. This should seem like a bad thing, but it is not a bad thing. It is an amusing thing, to me at least.

Alex and I are bored to wits end right now, and we have decided to become superheroes. We were trying to think of super awesome hero names and what not. I asked him what his would be and he replied with hmmm, as in he was thinking. He asked what mine was and I said I don't know...I do not. After some thinking, debating, and over all dancing with ideas, we decided our superhero names shall be as follows.

Alexis is (prepare yourself): Hmmm. I am not sure how many m's he wants on the end of his superhero name, but when I find out, you will be the first to know. His super powers include uncertainty and self-loathing. His words, not mind. I, on the other hand, happen to find him to be a perfectly amazing person and am disturbed by this. I loveth you dearly Alex, just so you know!

I am (no need to prepare yourself, as this is going to be kind of obvious): I Do Not. My main superpower is incorrectly typing words that I know how to correctly spell. I could get into what my hidden superpower is, but then it wouldn't be hidden anymore, and it's not so super, so I will save you all the anguish of it.

After all this debate and canoodling over superhero names, I told my other friend, Kaci, about the entire superhero thing, however, the conversation did not start out as such. She asked me what I was doing and I gave her a very long, blah, blah story about my life. But when I asked her what she was doing, she said nothing. I told her it was so interesting that she should have her own reality TV show, then I'd get mine, then they'd be high in the ratings and eventually lead to a crossover. How that conversation turned into a conversation about superheroes, I am vastly unsure, but felt the need to share that all anyway.

I promised Kaci that I would share her superhero-ness on my blog, so I shall do so now.

Kaci is: sweetQ. The spelling and capitalization is exactly like that, so if you mess it up, you have the wrong superhero. She will only come to that exact dictation. We only had this conversation a few days ago, so I feel like I should remember what her super powers are, but I do not, so please hold while I look them up.

*Plays the Jeopardy theme song for your enjoyment.*

Okay, here we go...here goes it. Whatever. Her superpowers include snorting soap and random wacko dancing. I should probably explain the snorting soap thing before anyone thinks this is a new awesome drug or something and flips out. It is not. Apparently, when she was in the shower, she accidentally snorted some soap on accident. She wasn't particularly over the moon by this and definitely didn't mean to. So see, no harm done, right ? Right.

We're still picking titles to our non existent hit shows, but if we ever do figure out what we want to call them and I actually remember to post that here, I will do so. Don't hold your breath. I would not like it very much if I had to go to jail for involuntary manslaughter. Thanks.

I feel like I have so much to say in this blog from not blogging for so long. Damn, I miss it, but I've been going through a lot with not just myself, but other people, and I feel there's a lot of stories that I want to tell on here, but they're not mine to tell, leaving me with zero to no material to put on here unless I want to put you all to sleep. I do not, so I just say nothing at all. I don't know which is worse, really.

I am currently trying to find a new place to sit since my dog stole my spot and seems particularly ducky about this whole entire thing. Once I do that, I will slide right into a few stories and some things I just want to say. My own words, own thoughts, no one elses, so no one be offended.

Okay, I've now traded her a cookie for my spot, so everything is as it should be, although she is now finished with the cookie and slightly perturbed because she was jipped. I am sorry, Greta Hayley, but I needed to be able to sit where I could type.

She doesn't want something unless I have it first, which is cute, but she tried to steal my friend the other day. I thought she was crying at me because she wanted to sit next to me and couldn't because I was sitting next to my friend. She wasn't. She was crying because she wanted to sit next to my friend and couldn't because I was there. That's right, my friends, I got snubbed by my own dog. That takes talent.

If you've been reading this blog for awhile, you know that I like to talk about the undeniably incredible Aunt Bev and her wacky tales of mishaps and word vomit. I really feel like I should write a book about her, because I certainly could. I am working on a fiction novel, but when I am done I am going to approach Aunt Bev about doing a novel about her. I want her to read my fiction novel first so that she can see if she even likes my writing before agreeing. If she agrees, I will sit down and listen to her stories of before I can remember, or before I knew her, and then compile them with the stories of my time.

The thing with her is, the things she does are often small, but extremely hilarious. There's a story behind everything she does. Then sometimes, things just fly out of her mouth and she doesn't even realize she says them. This is what makes her so amazing. Because of this, I would like to share a recent story from her mouth.

Aunt Bev goes to church every Sunday with her always hypocritical husband who says he's extremely religious, and then breaks just about every commandment possible. They are still married, but do not actually talk and things haven't been good with them at all lately. This is all I will say on this matter, but it is important to know this before I tell the story and make her sound like a real something or another. I'm just not sure what, exactly.

Before the services, Aunt Bev and her husband sat down in a pew like they were supposed to and proceeded to not talk or look at each other while waiting for everyone to file in, and the service to being. While this is happening, a couple around twenty years Aunt Bev's junior come in, and by now the church is almost full. There's a space for one person to sit next to Aunt Bev, but not two, which splits the couple up. The woman took a seat next to Aunt Bev, the man a few aisles down and across.

Aunt Bev felt horribly about splitting the two up since they most likely talked and liked each other, when she and her husband didn't. She could have gotten up and moved by herself and left them two sit together. After the service she apologized for making them split up, but gave no reason for it. I'm sure the couple was confused why she was apologizing when she was clearly sitting with her husband, but that is neither here nor there. What is, is what she said next.

Apparently, the man was a very nice looking one. Aunt Bev didn't think before she said this, but instead the plus sixty woman blurted out, "I feel so bad the two of you had to be split up. You could have sat on my lap." This was said directly to the man, right in the middle of a church, and in front of her husband and the man's girlfriend.

All fell silent. Deadly, irrevocably silent. Mice were stopped in fear that they would be heard and exterminated, that's how quiet it was. Aunt Bev thought she was in some deep doggy doo doo. Yes, I did just say doo doo. I will give those of you who need to, a second to laugh, and then continue with the story. Go ahead, take a second.

Okay, now that you had your second, the man proceeds to turn to Aunt Bev and say "You should have given me a shout out! I was just sitting right across the aisle!"

I would comment on this, but it needs no comment.

There are often times on this blog where I say I have a really awesome story to tell everyone. Right now I think I have the best story I've ever had to tell, but then I realize it's also not mine to tell. Why am I wasting my time telling you this then? Because this goes along with another story I've been dying to tell, and I'm trying to figure out where the line is so that I don't skip right across it and cackle begrudgingly. It's a good thing that I don't know if I can actually cackle successfully or not.

There's one story that I've been dying to tell on here, because it's something very painful, emotional, and I think a lot of young woman could really take something from it. The reason I haven't told it was because it was too hard for me, and on those off days when it wasn't, I just simply did not have the time to sit and type it all out. The reason I could tell it was because the person who was involved in it was totally erased and vanished from my life, which was kind of the point of the story. Getting through losing someone who meant so much to you because you were scared, and they were careless.

Now, though, this person has come back into my life, and through fairly tragic circumstances. The story behind those circumstances is probably one of the most moving stories that have ever found their way into my life, but it is not mine to tell in any way, shape, or form. Because of this, and said person being in my life again, I am concerned about telling the part of the story of how we met and what all we've gone through.

I don't know why, but I just feel sketchy about it, and it was the number one story that I wanted to tell. I guess, for now at least, I will have to find something else to tell you all about. I know a have stories upon stories prepared, so I am going to take a few minutes to chose which one I want to tell you all and which one feels right for tonight, because tomorrow is going to be a hell of a day. This is also something I'd love to tell you all about, but can't, because it has to do with said aforementioned person above, and even though I won't use their real identity, it's still not for me to stain all over the internet.

Tonight I will tell the story of Fred. I don't know how heartwarming and awesome it is, but I've gotten quite the kick out of it several times. Of course, this stuff happened to me and it's my own story, so that kind of makes me a prejudice loser. I'm okay with that.

There is an albino possum that took up residence at our house several years back. He does not live inside, but he thinks he's a cat and will do everything the stray cats that also refuse to come inside, do. He is cute, and nice and very funny. I know he's an animal, but he is. His name is Fred, but I can not remember why we named him that. In all the years he's been here, two separate occasions stand out in my mind. These were cute little things he did that I will never forget as long as I live. I hope I didn't just jinx myself.

A few years ago we had a set up that allowed our cats to go in and out of the house, but they no longer can do that, because we really just didn't want them getting hurt and weren't comfortable with them going in and out. Regardless, the set up was as such. We have a built in aluminum and glass porch that lies right outside of our dining room. Because our dining room is quite large and we don't use it, we have the big cat climbers lined up against the windows in the dining room. When we were letting them outside, we propped open the dining room window so they could get out on the porch. Then, on the porch, we had a cat door installed in the aluminium so it would be easy come, easy go.

As I've mentioned, Fred thinks he's a cat. One morning, in the wee, horrid hours when it was still dark, I had gotten up and had to cross the dining room to use the restroom. As I passed, something caught my eye just inside of the dining room, but I knew it wasn't a cat. I stopped, looked, and there was Fred, just standing there next to the cat house as happy as could be that he had broken into our house like all the other cats could do. By morning he was gone, and as far as I know, he never did this again, but it was pretty great to wake up and find a possum inside of your house, and neither me or him thought a thing of it and went on with our days.

After our idea of letting our cats come in and out failed, we realized that we still had the strays to somehow shelter and feed, without trapping them inside of the house. Our second idea came about from this. We have a back porch that we do not use, but recently insulated and turned into an extra room just because it was something that was fairly cheap and easy to do, and we're looking to eventually sale. This would add money to the house. The only things we didn't do was put a nice floor in, leaving it all concrete, or pipe the heating out there, but instead use space heaters and fans. Those both would have been costly, and we had a reason to leaving things to how they were.

We decided to make that back room the room for the stray cats to go in and out of. If they ruined the floor, no big deal, it would have to be made into a real, house floor one day. They were able to live in both the warm and cold weather being as a lot of nights they slept outside anyway, but we still did the best we could to keep it warm and cold in there. This is still true now.

One night, I heard some partying going on back there and figured I had better go check it out. When the cats party, it is never a good thing. I walked out through the living room, through the kitchen, and through the first half of the porch to get to where I was going. Once I did, I saw a nice little white kitty sitting right inside the door. It is dark out there, as we never put any lights out there yet either, and my eyes were still adjusting to the dark. I knew we had a white stray that came around, so it was no big deal. She was super friendly, so I bent down to pet her. Only then did I realize that I had just petted Fred. I shot up, screamed, and backed away. He never moved. Instead, once my eyes adjusted, I could see he was clearly staring at me like I was a crazy person on crack. He's right, I am crazy, but I am certainly not on crack. This is how we learned, though, that Fred likes to be petted.

We have the most awesome possum in the entire universe, and I have to say that I'm kind of really proud of this.

I think I'll leave the blog as is and tell more stories another time. My heart is a little bit heavy for all the right and wrong reasons, respectfully. If I continue to type, I am going to say things that are going to hurt someone, and I do not want to do that at this very particular moment. It's not that I'll want to hurt them, but it's that, even though it's how I feel, it will hurt them.

I am aware that I have yet to review Eclipse by Stephenie Meyer, and that I have no song for the day. You can all kick me later, okay, just not real hard. Thanks.

Edit: It is now a week later and I just got around to proofing this before posting. I had mentioned earlier in this blog that there was a story I had debated telling, based on if I felt as if I would be crossing a line or not by doing so. The other party involved in this story basically turned around, used me emotionally, and decided to treat show me some colors that, after three years, I was unsure he was painted.

Because of this development, I have decided to tell the story. I am not doing this for revenge, as I would never do that. I am telling my very own side of this story, not his. I feel as if this is a story that I need to tell, not only for me, but for those young girls out there who spend their time wondering if they are doing the right thing, or trusting the right people. I want to inspire someone with this story, but mostly I just need to get it out of my system, and writing is my way of doing this. I mean no disrespect to him, nor will I speak for him, only for myself. I do not believe he is a monster, but I do believe he is highly confused, unsure of how to love, or who he is. I am sad for him.

I will not use said person's name, and out of respect for them, although granted, I do not have a lot left for this person, I will leave them to remain anonymous because I feel it is the right thing to do. Please give me some time to get all my thoughts together and onto paper. I have three years worth of things to put to paper, lots of twisted events, and a lot of heartache to go with it. It may take me awhile, but I will eventually get it all organized and tell my story, not his. I hope that I am doing the right thing, but I feel confident that I am.