Don't get me wrong, modern world medicine has come a long way in the ability to cure things most of our ancestors probably never dreamed would be cured, but really... what is this nonsense?
We have drugs now whose side effects are almost laughable, I mean... Excessive need to gamble? Really?
Drugs can do that?
Some of these drugs now even give us side effects that are WORSE than what we are dealing with if we don't take them. Honestly, if something is going to make me bleed to death from a paper cut because I can't clot, then I don't really wanna take it unless I'll die without it.
Half the side effects of these drugs are things I haven't seen before from my herbal supplements, which despite how much is "unknown" about them, I seem to be alive, not bleeding out, and living free of nausea and all other wonderful symptoms of half the medications the FDA approves. I have never been happier managing my ADHD on herbal supplements and not dealing with my daily bout of nausea and inability to eat because my meds made me feel horrible before I found herbals.
I am by no means telling you you MUST take herbals instead of your medications, though if you have the time to speak to your doctor about the side effects you have from your medications and there is a better alternative in an herbal form you may ask them if it is safe for you to take.
DO NOT take herbal remedies without talking to a doctor first, they react with medications and all sorts of conditions may arise from them if you take too much. PLEASE, go to a doctor before starting any herbal medications. I am NOT licensed to tell you what to take.
24 October 2012
13 October 2012
Incense, Flames, Oils and Burners
I'm a shamanist. Not a devout one, but I do believe and practice a lot of the traditions. Today I went on my yearly haul of supplies for my offerings, at the same store I always go to. I love the Crystal Fox like it is my own store. I walked out with a new flame powered oil burner, three drams of oil, and a pack of incense sticks, which I later supplemented at another store with a five for one deal on single sticks.
I discovered one thing tonight: There is no conversation like one held while sitting around a candle flame heating up peppermint oil. I have never had such an amazing conversation doing really anything else. It may have been cold out tonight, but we bundled up in out sweatshirts and sat out under the sky and the courtyard lamps with some music and the incense, just talking about whatever struck us as interesting.
I find it funny that since I'm not supposed to have candles or incense in my room at college, I delegated the safe under my bed that my parents forced me to bring to lock up my laptop and other valuables as a storage place for my incenses and such. Like anyone will ever look there, right? If they see it in my room they will give me all sorts of flack for breaking the rules, therefore I just put it in my room where they won't see it and take it out of the room before I light it.
Anyway, I'll post pictures... sometime soon.
I discovered one thing tonight: There is no conversation like one held while sitting around a candle flame heating up peppermint oil. I have never had such an amazing conversation doing really anything else. It may have been cold out tonight, but we bundled up in out sweatshirts and sat out under the sky and the courtyard lamps with some music and the incense, just talking about whatever struck us as interesting.
I find it funny that since I'm not supposed to have candles or incense in my room at college, I delegated the safe under my bed that my parents forced me to bring to lock up my laptop and other valuables as a storage place for my incenses and such. Like anyone will ever look there, right? If they see it in my room they will give me all sorts of flack for breaking the rules, therefore I just put it in my room where they won't see it and take it out of the room before I light it.
Anyway, I'll post pictures... sometime soon.
01 October 2012
When Words Elude...
I cannot count the amount of times recently that I'll sit down to write and end up staring at a blank page or hours because I can never think of the words to say what I feel. What is even worse are the times I write something, and then promptly erase it because it does not serve my purpose well enough. I go back to staring at the empty page and wishing the words would come out of me and sprawl themselves on the page, but we all know writing rarely ever happens like that. Writing rarely ever comes easy...
I slave over this keyboard every night, hoping to make one good thing come of my efforts before I put the creative mind to rest. Most nights I give in to sleep and admit defeat at the hands of my own speechlessness. Some nights I manage to forcefully pull the words out of my brain and onto the page, creating something adequate to edit the next day. But rarely does it ever come easy to me to have a stroke of genius and write a beautiful piece of work before I fall asleep each night.
I've had so many moments recently where I come up with some idea for a new story, but by the time I sit down and have the time to write it the words have run away and I have nothing left but the same old blank page to stare at.
Sadly even now I have run out of words for the night...
I slave over this keyboard every night, hoping to make one good thing come of my efforts before I put the creative mind to rest. Most nights I give in to sleep and admit defeat at the hands of my own speechlessness. Some nights I manage to forcefully pull the words out of my brain and onto the page, creating something adequate to edit the next day. But rarely does it ever come easy to me to have a stroke of genius and write a beautiful piece of work before I fall asleep each night.
I've had so many moments recently where I come up with some idea for a new story, but by the time I sit down and have the time to write it the words have run away and I have nothing left but the same old blank page to stare at.
Sadly even now I have run out of words for the night...
25 September 2012
A Permanent Memory
I'm tired of being told that a few years down the road I'll regret the art I have. I'm tired of the mere fact that it exists making people assume things about my personality. But mostly I'm tired of people not taking time to understand that there IS a story behind what I have and why I got it.
So I'm young and I have a tattoo
...so what.
Does that make me a bad person? Because I have that tattoo, have I now become a delinquent?
Nine months of constant thought went into this piece of artwork. I spent night after night, searching for pictures, drawing my own, and writing out script and calligraphy. I made sure what I got meant the most to me. Nine months worth of days I went to sleep looking at the drawing of it pasted to my wall by my bed, only to wake up staring at it again. If I wasn't able to handle looking at it every day for that long of a period of time, believing wholeheartedly that it was perfect then I wasn't ready to get it.
My tattoo has a reason to exist and holds the story behind it right beneath the surface. Just far enough down that you have to look for it and you can't just see it in the image. Just because the image is pretty doesn't mean that's always the reason behind it.
Every time I hear how much I will regret this down the road I just think about the road I took to decide what I wanted, and how hard I thought about what I was doing before I did it.
So people will see it if I wear specific types of clothing...
Just because they see it doesn;t mean they understand it.
And maybe I don't want to always have to hide it.
I didn't do this for anyone but myself. There's no good reason I could have gotten a tattoo for someone else. This tattoo, and any others to come, will tell a story of my journey through life trying to find out who I am and what I was meant to do. Everything I get will tell a story... The question is who will get to know the story and who won't?
It is a reminder not to let anyone force me to be someone else. And a reminder of how strong I can be when I put my mind to it. A reminder of my past, and all the hard work I have put in to get where I am today.
This is MY permanent memory. THIS is how I choose to wear my scars. No one but me has to accept it. No one but me has to understand it, because if you can't see past my surface then you don't deserve to know the real me, or the meaning behind it all.
And honestly, if artwork isn't artwork because of the medium it's done on, then how is any of what we call art definable under the circumstances. Wouldn't it be one of the highest forms of a compliment to any artist to want to have their artwork emblazoned on my body for the rest of my life, and even in death still have them into whatever awaits me after my death?
So I'm young and I have a tattoo
...so what.
Does that make me a bad person? Because I have that tattoo, have I now become a delinquent?
Nine months of constant thought went into this piece of artwork. I spent night after night, searching for pictures, drawing my own, and writing out script and calligraphy. I made sure what I got meant the most to me. Nine months worth of days I went to sleep looking at the drawing of it pasted to my wall by my bed, only to wake up staring at it again. If I wasn't able to handle looking at it every day for that long of a period of time, believing wholeheartedly that it was perfect then I wasn't ready to get it.
My tattoo has a reason to exist and holds the story behind it right beneath the surface. Just far enough down that you have to look for it and you can't just see it in the image. Just because the image is pretty doesn't mean that's always the reason behind it.
Every time I hear how much I will regret this down the road I just think about the road I took to decide what I wanted, and how hard I thought about what I was doing before I did it.
So people will see it if I wear specific types of clothing...
Just because they see it doesn;t mean they understand it.
And maybe I don't want to always have to hide it.
I didn't do this for anyone but myself. There's no good reason I could have gotten a tattoo for someone else. This tattoo, and any others to come, will tell a story of my journey through life trying to find out who I am and what I was meant to do. Everything I get will tell a story... The question is who will get to know the story and who won't?
It is a reminder not to let anyone force me to be someone else. And a reminder of how strong I can be when I put my mind to it. A reminder of my past, and all the hard work I have put in to get where I am today.
This is MY permanent memory. THIS is how I choose to wear my scars. No one but me has to accept it. No one but me has to understand it, because if you can't see past my surface then you don't deserve to know the real me, or the meaning behind it all.
And honestly, if artwork isn't artwork because of the medium it's done on, then how is any of what we call art definable under the circumstances. Wouldn't it be one of the highest forms of a compliment to any artist to want to have their artwork emblazoned on my body for the rest of my life, and even in death still have them into whatever awaits me after my death?
31 August 2012
Rebuilding From Scratch
There is nothing harder in the world in my mind than having to rebuild yourself from the bottom up when someone hurts you. You rarely know what direction to move in, what direction is even up, but you just start moving and hope you are going the right way. If it becomes necessary you make a few U-turns, but you just keep moving. You keep the things you liked about yourself, you look around and make an image of things you liked about your friends, and you even pick up a thing or two from a stranger you may never see again. You reevaluate everything about yourself. The values you upheld before may suddenly be different now, you might find that you are looking for something different than you were before, or maybe you are even finding that you don't really know what you want or who you are anymore. But you again just keep on moving and building, one step at a time, brick by brick.
And eventually you just throw caution to the wind, and hope that if you do indeed get hurt again, you can manage to rebuild and convince yourself to hold out and keep caring for others no matter how hard it gets to. But little do you know that a piece of you dwindles away each time you get hurt and you slowly turn yourself into a hollow being that will be so used to not caring, and not being cared for, that when it actually happens you will have no inkling of how to handle it.
And eventually you just throw caution to the wind, and hope that if you do indeed get hurt again, you can manage to rebuild and convince yourself to hold out and keep caring for others no matter how hard it gets to. But little do you know that a piece of you dwindles away each time you get hurt and you slowly turn yourself into a hollow being that will be so used to not caring, and not being cared for, that when it actually happens you will have no inkling of how to handle it.
22 July 2012
A Chance for Redemption
I remember a time where I messed up pretty badly. Not on purpose, but merely in a blind attempt to get away from those nasty skeletons we all have in our closets we try to keep hidden. Until recently, I never thought I would get the chance to make up for what I had done. We all make stupid mistakes, but none of the rest amount to any significance compared to how monstrous this mistake was. Lucky for me I have a chance to fix what happened.
It's been four years since I dated this guy. He's probably the most wonderful guy I have ever met, to this day. But sadly, I had just gotten out of a really brutally abusive relationship. So my brain began to look for the bad in our relationship, and I ran for my life, doing anything possible to push him away from me. We didn't talk for probably 2 years, but senior year of highschool when I finally came to terms with everything that happened, I tried to reconcile and at least become friends, I was committed to a relationship at this time. Things with this didn't work out the way I wanted them to, but come December 2011, this would all change. We've been really close since then, and we've talked about what happened. I have been forgiven for my mistakes.
Yesterday, I was cleaning my room and I found a box full of my old memories that had packed away for myself. I took it out and went looking through it. I suddenly saw a European postmark on an evnelope addressed to me. I pulled it out and saw who it was from. Inside was a postcard from Ouronnaz, and seven pages from a notepad. On both of these were the sweetest words I have heard a man say to this day. I came to find that he reads the letters I wrote him around the same time, as often as I now read his, and he has been for years. I've stumbled upon the chance of a lifetime.
The chance to do things over...
It's been four years since I dated this guy. He's probably the most wonderful guy I have ever met, to this day. But sadly, I had just gotten out of a really brutally abusive relationship. So my brain began to look for the bad in our relationship, and I ran for my life, doing anything possible to push him away from me. We didn't talk for probably 2 years, but senior year of highschool when I finally came to terms with everything that happened, I tried to reconcile and at least become friends, I was committed to a relationship at this time. Things with this didn't work out the way I wanted them to, but come December 2011, this would all change. We've been really close since then, and we've talked about what happened. I have been forgiven for my mistakes.
Yesterday, I was cleaning my room and I found a box full of my old memories that had packed away for myself. I took it out and went looking through it. I suddenly saw a European postmark on an evnelope addressed to me. I pulled it out and saw who it was from. Inside was a postcard from Ouronnaz, and seven pages from a notepad. On both of these were the sweetest words I have heard a man say to this day. I came to find that he reads the letters I wrote him around the same time, as often as I now read his, and he has been for years. I've stumbled upon the chance of a lifetime.
The chance to do things over...
18 May 2012
Sifting Through History
While unpacking things from my dorm room, I kept coming across things from when I was little that I had still neglected to find a proper place for or had just never put back after moving it for some reason. It's a strangely happy feeling to come across those silly little gel bracelets you bought your first time at the mall alone, or those seashells you've had in your closet since you went to the beach last as a small child. All those things are a reminder of what I used to be. And by that I mean before college, jobs, and relationships came to be an integral portion of life. Those moments you hold on to from when you were just doing what any kid would have, having fun. It has been a pretty rocky past few weeks, finals for college and all, but today I was reminded that I should still just be a kid sometimes and just have some fun once in a while solely for the purpose of the fun. And also, a reminder to take the good with the bad. Yeah that was the last time I went to the beach for almost 10 years, but I have the memories of the tides, and the smell of salt water still, and those will never fade away. The memories should be the most important part of the past. We do not have to keep all the physical things from the past, some of it sure, but a lot of it can be kept in our memories and our hearts just the same as it can be kept in boxes and on shelves. Except keeping things in boxes takes up space in your house, which can be problematic if done for too long in too large a quantity...
05 April 2012
The Road To Understanding
Lately I find myself falling more and more in touch with the part of me which laid dormant for most of the earlier years of my life. I find myself seeking to understand the past and what came from it, and trying to find myself based upon where I came from and the heritage in my blood. It has not necessarily been all the answers I have been looking for, nor have the answers I gotten necessarily been good ones, But they define who I am in a way because I know more about the culture I came from.
So about three books and two hours in a museum later, I came to the understanding that I can learn all of what I need to know about the life I would have lived before, but it does not necessarily make my life today what it would have been then. That is not to say that it does not shape my beliefs and the path I follow, because it does do that much, but there is no way to go back in time and experience things as they were back then, only to listen to the stories and try to imagine what was, and what will hopefully never be again in some cases.
I am happy to have found something in history that means enough to me to actually follow it and set aside the time to WANT to do it, rather than feeling like I have to in order to get by. I am proud of the fact that I can openly talk about something that mot many people can.
And I'm proud to be every bit of the little I am, Native American....
So about three books and two hours in a museum later, I came to the understanding that I can learn all of what I need to know about the life I would have lived before, but it does not necessarily make my life today what it would have been then. That is not to say that it does not shape my beliefs and the path I follow, because it does do that much, but there is no way to go back in time and experience things as they were back then, only to listen to the stories and try to imagine what was, and what will hopefully never be again in some cases.
I am happy to have found something in history that means enough to me to actually follow it and set aside the time to WANT to do it, rather than feeling like I have to in order to get by. I am proud of the fact that I can openly talk about something that mot many people can.
And I'm proud to be every bit of the little I am, Native American....
20 March 2012
A Twist of Fate
I ended up meeting the most amazing person ever, today. We have so many things in common that I find it slightly scary, but it is still super cool to have someone to share all these things with and brighten up another's day. You never really know someone as well as you think you do, but it is an amazing feeling to have such fun and commonground. I see there being plenty of moments in the future full of conversations, and dancing, and staring up at stars. Or even giggling because we just pretended that I am a warrior princess off to slay the giant cookie monster, and any other mysterious creatures that get in my way, with my sword of righteousness.
I have not laughed this hard in a long time. And I do not think I have had this much fun on Facebook since the fateful night I met my other half. Not necessarily the BETTER one, but certainly the other one.
"Sometimes you just know the people that belong in your life from the moment you meet them. It just matters more how long they are intended to belong in your life."
I have not laughed this hard in a long time. And I do not think I have had this much fun on Facebook since the fateful night I met my other half. Not necessarily the BETTER one, but certainly the other one.
"Sometimes you just know the people that belong in your life from the moment you meet them. It just matters more how long they are intended to belong in your life."
08 February 2012
The Beautiful Life Of A Dancer
Sure, dancers are creative and athletic. Some of us even make what we do look effortless, but do not let us fool you with our artsy-fartsy glory. Our lives are not as easy as they look.
We spend most of our hours from sun up to sun down on our feet, between technique classes and concert rehearsals. And, to top that off, we have to take in as much water as possible every day and night to keep us going.
Outside of class and rehearsal there is endless hours of practicing and stretching to increase strength, flexibility, balance, alignment and technique.
Dance is a never ending cycle inside the studio and out.
Here's to not being a college dance major anymore.
We spend most of our hours from sun up to sun down on our feet, between technique classes and concert rehearsals. And, to top that off, we have to take in as much water as possible every day and night to keep us going.
Outside of class and rehearsal there is endless hours of practicing and stretching to increase strength, flexibility, balance, alignment and technique.
Dance is a never ending cycle inside the studio and out.
Here's to not being a college dance major anymore.
06 February 2012
Just Another Monday
This last weekend felt like Saturday, Saturday, Saturday...
And then, I was hit very abruptly with the realization that, infact, Sunday was Sunday, and I had another week ahead of me full of lectures, technique classes, textbook chapters, and written work to wade knee deep through. Not to mention the required dance concert to consume one of my evenings that could very well be occupied by taking a shower and studying or for goodness sake sleeping, in preparation for the more work that will undoubtably take over my world the further into this semester I trudge.
The more things I managed to write on my calendar; the more I noticed that almost all of them were school related in some way and hardly any of them were recreational, or just for the sake of my doing something interesting to me for once. Then, I reminded myself that I hardly do anything just for fun anymore. I hardly have the drive to play a sport, or even play my video games anymore, and it is hard to find the time to read a book when you have classes all day and into the night, and homework the rest of the time you are awake. All so that you can go to sleep and inevitably do it all over again a few more days in a row.
Essentially what you should be getting from this is: I Hate Mondays.
But, really, who would disagree. Monday is just a reminder that we have yet another mountain of work to move, while balancing that with a social life, free time and the very volatile and rare specimen called, sleep. Which I never seem to get enough of no matter how early I go to bed, and how late I sleep during the weekends. But, that is another story for another day.
Good Night Folks, Let The Week Grind On, and just remember, it's only over when it's over.
And then, I was hit very abruptly with the realization that, infact, Sunday was Sunday, and I had another week ahead of me full of lectures, technique classes, textbook chapters, and written work to wade knee deep through. Not to mention the required dance concert to consume one of my evenings that could very well be occupied by taking a shower and studying or for goodness sake sleeping, in preparation for the more work that will undoubtably take over my world the further into this semester I trudge.
The more things I managed to write on my calendar; the more I noticed that almost all of them were school related in some way and hardly any of them were recreational, or just for the sake of my doing something interesting to me for once. Then, I reminded myself that I hardly do anything just for fun anymore. I hardly have the drive to play a sport, or even play my video games anymore, and it is hard to find the time to read a book when you have classes all day and into the night, and homework the rest of the time you are awake. All so that you can go to sleep and inevitably do it all over again a few more days in a row.
Essentially what you should be getting from this is: I Hate Mondays.
But, really, who would disagree. Monday is just a reminder that we have yet another mountain of work to move, while balancing that with a social life, free time and the very volatile and rare specimen called, sleep. Which I never seem to get enough of no matter how early I go to bed, and how late I sleep during the weekends. But, that is another story for another day.
Good Night Folks, Let The Week Grind On, and just remember, it's only over when it's over.
31 January 2012
Those Summertime Blues
I noticed today that due to the uncharacteristically nice weather outside today, everyone was itching to get out of class and even more itching to be on summer break already. I cannot say I was not one of them, but it seemed extremely widespread. Something about the warmth of the sun beating down on you makes you get those visions of sitting on the sandy beaches, bathing suit clad, tanning it up, playing volleyball and diving in the sand to make that perfect save, or whatever those other kids do at the beach. Everyone around me today was dressed in good clothes, and I even bothered to put my makeup on for the first time since moving back on campus for the semester. But as it got darker, our dreams of feeling the summer heat beating down on us slowly began to fade, and it got colder, driving people back into their sweats and yoga pants. In some ways, I could not be happier that today is over, but I wish I could have seen the sun and felt the warmth a little longer than I did. It would have been nice to pull out a blanket and go lay on the grass out in the sun. But instead, the cold sent me dashing back inside to work out, dance, and attend to my studies before they get ahead of me and I lose all ability to keep up.
30 January 2012
Just Peachy
Going through the abyss of makeup boxes sitting on my vanity I found a most peculiar sight; an almost untouched tube of peach lipgloss. Not having been one to wear peach lipgloss since middleschool you can imagine my surprise at the thought. But, nevertheless being adventurous I tried it on. While I cannot say I hated how it looked, I sure did not think it looked normal on me. Though, this is coming from the girl who wears nothing but red, tan, or magenta. After having stared at it for a while, I decided that it might be a welcome change for a bit to wear a more youthful shade. At least until it runs out. I never thought I would ever see myself in a light color other than skintone tan in my entire life, but I guess you can break a habit, even ones as strong as a makeup routine.
26 January 2012
Dorm Life - "A Fresh Start"
Moving into another dorm this semester, was an amazing experience, and not even because of the fact that I got away from all the problems I had last semester. While the dorm itself isn't as nice as the one I was in before, that says nothing about the people living in it themselves. Here there is an environment like no other; the boys all go out to the gym and dinner together, and everyone is extremely social. Sure there is a fair share of partiers here, but you will find that anywhere when you have a bunch of teens living together in one place. There's never a dull moment here, and there is always someone popping into your room to say hello or to have a long conversation. We will see how things pan out as the year goes on, but these people seem amazing to live with, and extremely easy to get along with.
I can honestly not say that I miss being in my old room, though I loved having all that space in the common room of our suite to have people over. It is a nice change to have roommates that want you to go out with them, and will not take no for an answer. We had so much fun last night at a school event, which the last time I was at with my old roommate was so boring that I left to go back to my room twenty minutes. There are so many times that I wished I could have had a fun conversation with my old roommate, and last night there were so many fun and funny moments in conversations that my sides were hurting today when I woke up.
To all the commuters out there, you are missing out on a really beautiful thing, once you get over the drinkers and the partiers, the people you spend time living with are really amazing in a dorm. You just have to get it right when you room with someone in a small space and be as easygoing as you can be. Once you stop caring so much about how stupid the people around you decide to be and start to focus more on not being stupid yourself, everything turns out alright.
Moral of the story: Everyone should try to spend a year on campus taking in the valuable experience of living with a bunch of other people that you may, or may not, like at the beginning, middle, or end of the year.
I can honestly not say that I miss being in my old room, though I loved having all that space in the common room of our suite to have people over. It is a nice change to have roommates that want you to go out with them, and will not take no for an answer. We had so much fun last night at a school event, which the last time I was at with my old roommate was so boring that I left to go back to my room twenty minutes. There are so many times that I wished I could have had a fun conversation with my old roommate, and last night there were so many fun and funny moments in conversations that my sides were hurting today when I woke up.
To all the commuters out there, you are missing out on a really beautiful thing, once you get over the drinkers and the partiers, the people you spend time living with are really amazing in a dorm. You just have to get it right when you room with someone in a small space and be as easygoing as you can be. Once you stop caring so much about how stupid the people around you decide to be and start to focus more on not being stupid yourself, everything turns out alright.
Moral of the story: Everyone should try to spend a year on campus taking in the valuable experience of living with a bunch of other people that you may, or may not, like at the beginning, middle, or end of the year.
16 January 2012
I Am Just A Big.Kid.
Anyone else keep getting this phrase from their parents lately? "If you want to be treated like a big kid, you have to start acting like one..."
I only see one flaw in the fact that they keep telling me this, they dislike the ways in which I decide to be a big kid. I commented on wanting to move out and live in my own apartment a few weeks ago, and she countered with a reminder that if I actually do that I will have to have a job and a car and be able to support myself and the rent to do so. As all big people do, I thought about the whole idea more and came to the conclusion that maybe I would ask someone to move in with me and split the rent. Only problem is... They will not agree with who I wanted to ask to move in with me. They would have more horrible things to say about that than about me staying at my boyfriend's house for the weekend to save him gas money... (It is also to spend the time with him.)
I decided, after acquiring a job for the school year and the summer, I would like to go on a trip just me and my boyfriend, to spend some time just the two of us (Without having to deal with school, parents, siblings, household responsibilities, or jobs) for a week over the first break we can afford. Turns out that requires both of us to work most likely MOST of the weekend, reserve as much of our money as possible, plan the trip ourselves, AND deal with my mother's flack as soon as she finds out we are going together. Not to mention, heaven save me if she gets the crazy idea in her mind we are sharing a room...
She wants me to grow up and make decisions that relate to my age, well I have news for her... NO SHE DOES NOT! If she did she would let me make these decisions, and she would help me work towards them not make me do it all on my own. Part of growing up is making these choices, yes, but part of it is also about learning how to get the resources to achieve them as well, right? Why is she not the one teaching me this, rather than me fumbling around in the dark looking for the metaphorical lighter to light the freaking candle so I can find what I am looking for.
I only see one flaw in the fact that they keep telling me this, they dislike the ways in which I decide to be a big kid. I commented on wanting to move out and live in my own apartment a few weeks ago, and she countered with a reminder that if I actually do that I will have to have a job and a car and be able to support myself and the rent to do so. As all big people do, I thought about the whole idea more and came to the conclusion that maybe I would ask someone to move in with me and split the rent. Only problem is... They will not agree with who I wanted to ask to move in with me. They would have more horrible things to say about that than about me staying at my boyfriend's house for the weekend to save him gas money... (It is also to spend the time with him.)
I decided, after acquiring a job for the school year and the summer, I would like to go on a trip just me and my boyfriend, to spend some time just the two of us (Without having to deal with school, parents, siblings, household responsibilities, or jobs) for a week over the first break we can afford. Turns out that requires both of us to work most likely MOST of the weekend, reserve as much of our money as possible, plan the trip ourselves, AND deal with my mother's flack as soon as she finds out we are going together. Not to mention, heaven save me if she gets the crazy idea in her mind we are sharing a room...
She wants me to grow up and make decisions that relate to my age, well I have news for her... NO SHE DOES NOT! If she did she would let me make these decisions, and she would help me work towards them not make me do it all on my own. Part of growing up is making these choices, yes, but part of it is also about learning how to get the resources to achieve them as well, right? Why is she not the one teaching me this, rather than me fumbling around in the dark looking for the metaphorical lighter to light the freaking candle so I can find what I am looking for.
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