|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Mon Oct 29, 2012 7:05 am
 |
|
|
 |
bla 11 2010, March 20--Saturday
I’ll never be treated as an adult by these people, and oh, how I loathe that tiny, but significant fact. I’m 23. I should have at least a little independence, but noooo, none for the dramatic shithead who complains and complains about life not being fair…because her family is full of shithead followers who don‘t know what fairness is. And as long as I am forced to live here, that’s exactly how it’ll stay.
No matter if I do get a job or pay bills or, oh heaven forbid, have a child, in or out of wedlock, they’ll never see me as responsible or able to be by myself.
This family is so ******** up. And therefore I’m ******** too, but I am insightful and blah, blah, and that’s what makes me not so ******** as the others, which I am extremely grateful for, but …I’m still ******** up in the head.
(This I have stated innumerable times and it is applicable in many situations, such as this one.) I find it odd--and absolutely hilarious, because of the irony-- that the only one not brain washed by this…thing is the only one with actual damage to the brain. Of course maybe the oxygen took most of the “common sense” things with it. Maybe that’s why I’m sane.
This morning I had a minor emotional break-and my emotional breaking points do usually start scenes, because in the moment, I never can control the volume of my voice--but that’s every break, not only the major ones, witch are much worse then this I assure you. This is only a small one.
Bruce took all of us girls to breakfast. We went to a place called Sunny Point Café. It was small and quiet-a nice little place. I was in a dark mood, mostly because I just woke up and hadn’t eaten yet. Then the family showed up. I don’t like a single person in the family mostly because they’re all fake. I had brought my book, not for any particular reason except that maybe I would have to wait, and would prefer not to talk to them until I was in a better mood(actually I would prefer never speaking to or hearing from them again--but that’s not really possible with the circumstances as they are). Nothing was going in my favor.
Being a family, they should respect me and know when I’m close to an emotional break. They do not. They don’t give a damn about me. Ever.
We got a table with a booth. I slid into the corner with no other reason then to just get this ‘family time’ s**t over with. Tina went in next to me; Judy across, dad next to her and Gail on the end as she loves to be oh-so-important. Gail opened a magazine and began talking about a crap wedding. To say the least, I do not agree or even remotely like most of her ideas. I think she got the ideas she has from just looking up to dad with a god-like reverence. It’s revolting.
I looked over the menu and decided to get a Breakfast Burrito. Gail and Tina decided to split a meal and Judy liked the sound of it. Gail said it was big and Judy looked at me. Damn it. I liked my Breakfast Burrito idea. But no….I’ve discovered I’m never listened to in this family. Even if I had said no, they would’ve all begged and looked at me with their fake pleading eyes. So I had to say no to my scrumptious Breakfast Burrito…And then as if to add yet another measure of not letting me get the food I wanted, Gail said, “It’s good Sarah and that sounds spicy.”
I have no idea why but I actually did take part in the conversation, then when I was shut out yet again, I’m sure some kind of thundercloud appeared over my head. Then I was just quiet for a bit, eating my food. I didn’t eat much of it because I just didn’t like it. Liar.
My mood was not good. I think a real family of real people would have noticed some sort of emotional overflow was about to happen. I began to breathe more heavily and quickly. I realized my stomach was moving in a way that it does only when I’m about to cry from pent up anger and fury. I chastised myself for sliding into the corner. “Dad,” I said in a dark voice, that I thought suggested danger, “I want the restrictions off my computer.” He brightened up and gave me a look of someone who had just won a card game. His reply, “I think we all know why it’s there.” or something of that nature. In his head, I’m sure there was some kind of celebration going on.
Before I could stop myself, I banged my fists on the table, making my plate and silverware jump, and began to cry, making my voice crack. The whole restaurant turned to look. I screamed out in a high-pitched whiney sounding voice, “I already have enough limits, I don’t need more!” pointing my finger at him, for I don’t know what reason, I guess it was just there already. Plus it always feels more threatening and just better when you’re screaming. I slapped Tina’s arm screaming, “Go away!” in order to get out of the entrapment. I tried to hit dad’s arm on the way out, but only managed a light touch. Luckily, we were seated on one side of the door. I stormed towards it and gave a mighty shove with my wrist and stormed across the patio area to sit on a rock near the sign.
There I sat, quiet, with thunder bruised clouds above my head. Judy came out about three minutes later with tear streaks on her face. She tried to make me understand that what I’d done was bad. At that point I was far beyond caring what was socially acceptable or not. A real sister would have known that.
If I had a car, I would’ve just left and gone somewhere that wasn’t where they wanted me to go and probably would have thrown away my phone and never returned.
Judy went back inside, and I sat back down with head in hand thinking how I would love to have them all utterly destroyed. I mellowed out quite quickly and then new tears of hot fury began afresh. However, I didn’t have long to cry for myself because just then I heard a voice calling, “Bye, Sarah!” from just ahead. I looked up to see Gail waving at me walking hand in arm with dad. Oh, how I loathed them. Dad was strutting like he’d just won a medal in the king’s court. Selfish pig. And Gail’s well on her way to becoming just as he is. They were walking towards his Porsche.
I didn’t watch them get in, but now I wish I had because I was facing the drivers side door. I bet he had a straight back, feeling tall and accomplished, and was beaming because he had just destroyed something that should have started out as being dear to him.
Judy came out and, surprisingly, didn’t talk about it. I got up and followed her to the car. I hate doing that. I got in and took care not to slam the door. I turned my head to look out the window and tried to hold back more tears of fury. When we were a little over halfway home(I still hadn’t looked anywhere but out my window), Judy said something about I know how you feel crap. “I know you hate limits…” You don’t know s**t.
She obviously noticed how I wasn’t responding, and changed the topic to, “Would you like to go to Starbucks?” I made a quiet “Yeah.” come out. “I just want to get my wallet.” (I went to Starbucks for three hours sometime in the past month and got a decent amount of reading done. Told Judy I liked the atmosphere, which was true--but wasn’t the whole reason.)
At some point during the trip, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I just bawled for about two minutes.
We came home and saw dad sitting at the picnic table reading his bible with his sunglasses on. Again I say, stupid pig. We drove down to my apartment, I ran in to get my beat up wallet and ran back out. We drove up and Judy told the freak, without being asked(she’s already in his control), where we were off to. I made a point of looking down.
Judy and I were quiet for most of this trip too. When she pulled into Starbucks, she told me to make a list of what I had with me. I named them off. Wallet, book, phone, camera. I got out. She said, “I love you” in her sweet little way, looking up at me like a loyal dog. But I know where her real loyalty lies. She’s not a sister, not even a person. She’s a piece of furniture that can be painted and repainted to look any way her master pleases. But she still hasn’t lost the sound of her own voice.
I waved dismissively and walked towards the doors, leaned against a corner jutting out and cried out what I hoped was the last of it. I don’t remember hearing Judy drive away.
After I felt like I was done, I opened the door and walked in. The man at the register smiled kindly at me. I think it was kindof because I hadn’t wiped my face and the tears were still coming. I smiled back and ordered a drink. I also pulled out a business card and asked if I could put it on their giant magnet board. He said yes and I did so.
I looked around for an available table while waiting for my drink to be called. I got it and sat at a table near the window. I stared and ran my fingers through my hair several times. “What am I going to do?” I thought. No one’s helping me even though I’ve begged and pleaded for help. I took some sips of my drink just for something to do…I had almost forgotten it was there. I put my hand on it so I wouldn’t forget again.
Then from out of nowhere, I grabbed everything, got up and walked out the door. I thought I would like to walk. I stood on the sidewalk deciding in witch direction to go. I decided to head for downtown. That was down College Street, witch was to the left. I walked down Patton. When I got to a bridge I looked over and thought, “that would be a nice picture.” Then I remembered I had my camera; set everything down, and took a couple shots. I always love pictures of roads and cars if they’re artistically done. I turned and took another photo. I kept walking and then I heard squeaky shoes behind me and remembered my wallet was in my back pocket. I tried to speed up and run over karate moves in my head and be calm….then a runner passed me. I had seen him sitting at Starbucks. My fear was needless. I slowed down and followed him for a bit. He passed out of my vision soon enough. I kept walking and I don’t know what I was thinking. Glad to be by myself most likely.
I took pictures of the courthouses and thought about taking city pictures and being a professional. I’d like that, but no one else would. Plus it wouldn’t support me. ‘Nother hope and dream down the tube because of dad.
I went down a street called Eagle that I had never been down before, took some photos and kept going. Soon I came to Biltmore and saw The Orange Peel. I knew where I was.
I saw there was a rally going on in Prichard Park…I saw yellow, red and blue peace signs. Probably something about Obamacare…something I knew nothing about. I kept going. I finished with my Starbucks drink and threw it in a can.
A new Urban Outfitters store just went up in the place of an old CVS. I remembered getting one of my favorite necklaces at an Urban Outfitters in Charleston years ago. I went in to look around and thought why not? I asked for a job application and filled it out, pressing on the back of my book for a surface, in the dressing rooms. I couldn’t think of AB Tech’s address, they didn’t have a phone book and neither Judy nor Gail knew it when I called them. I ended up filling out all the questions except that one. I just suggested I bring it home with me and looked around a bit. I decided the clothes were cute but not that fabulous. I found a scarf on sale that I adored, took that, and went to look more downstairs. I went past some adorable dresses but the price was way too much, then I found a rack of sunglasses and thought of how mine broke years ago. There was a woman there with two little girls that were far too dressed up for their age…but cute. I talked to them about the sunglasses, and found a pair I loved. They liked them…then I looked at the jewelry; I wasn’t expecting it to be so dull and lifeless. I bought the scarf and walked out wearing the glasses. The sun was bright indeed. I walked to other stores and looked through their super expensive things…I found an incredible hat, but couldn’t buy it. Judy called and said she had to be at work at 2. I said ok and looked around some more.
I went into Malaprops and was told they were having a sale for two days. I was given an enormous bag and told that anything I could fit in it was 25% off. That’s great, but I already have a bunch of books I plan to read and own pretty much all of them. I took the bag and looked through some pins they had. Someone told me to choose ten of them. I was in the middle when Judy called again. I had to hurry. I only got four and had to pay over five dollars for them so that was a ripoff. I ran out the door. The woman had said I could keep the bag.
I hopped in the car and told Judy I felt better. Witch was only half true. I didn’t ever want to return to my apartment behind dad’s house. I call it a chicken coop. It’s small, horribly plain and ugly in my opinion and I can’t go anywhere without being driven. And then there’s dad lording over everything I do. I don’t like being controlled. And I don’t care who does it either. If you have control of me, I hate everything you are and stand for, even if I did like it before.
I showed Judy what I bought and she seemed happy to see I was back to my normal self…what they see of it anyway. She also seemed in a hurry. She dropped me off at the house, ran in to change clothes and sped away.
I was depressed again.
But the day was mostly good. Dad’s ‘I win’ face still haunts me. |
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 29, 2012 7:09 am
|
|
|
|
bla 12
My dad lied to me about having an STD.
In February of 2007, I was raped in Carmel, California. Nothing came out of that, except for a horrible memory. I was deathly scared of sex and men for about a year.
In March of 2009, I decided it was time to get over my fear by facing it. I went out one night to a guy friends house and had sex. He didn’t know my reason for it. Now granted that was a bad idea, but it did what I wanted and got me over my fears. He and I stopped being friends after I kept telling him no, I didn’t want to do it again. He called me selfish and stopped speaking to me, for witch I was glad. After he started to ask again and again I stopped liking him entirely.
Earlier that day I had left a message for dad that said I was going over to my friend Matt’s house and wouldn‘t be back til late. I knew he would be mad beyond belief, but this was something I felt I had to do. And I was telling him where I was going, so he wouldn’t be worried about that.
He obviously got the message, freaked out and called back. I did not answer. My phone rang again and it turned out to be my psychiatrist, Dr. Smith Goodrum. So he was suspicious. Dr. Goodrum told me this was outright defiance but I didn’t care. I needed to do this for myself--prove to myself that sex and men weren’t all bad. After that I turned my phone off.
My friend Sara was in on this. She and Matt took me to the mall to get some new undergarments. She was really excited and fun to shop with. I knew I shouldn’t be doing this, but I felt if I didn’t face and conquer the fear now, I would never be able to. Neither of them knew this of course. Now I realize I should have told them both, but I didn’t. I knew that I shouldn’t be afraid of men or sex and I thought the best way of getting through this was to keep my reasons to myself and just do it. They both knew I was raped in 2007 and were very angry about it, as I was. They just didn’t know I was preparing to be done with my fear through this. They didn’t even know I was afraid. I was sick of being scared, and just wanted it to be done.
I was quiet throughout the whole shopping trip thinking of how scared I was, but telling myself to just do it because I needed to get over these fears. I tried hard to control my face and voice so they would think nothing was wrong. I think I did very well.
We ran into a friend of mine from my karate class with his girlfriend. We all said hello and went our separate ways through the racks of clothing.
Matt and I said goodbye to Sara and went to his house--witch turned out to be a trailer. I changed into my new bra and panty set and came out trying to be sexy.
We cuddled on the couch as we watched two movies. He was a photographer and so am I so he showed me his photographs.
I turned on my phone at midnight and texted dad that I was tired and would just sleep here.
Then we went to his bedroom and I told him I wasn’t doing this without a condom. He put one on and went to it. I won’t go into detail but he went through a fair amount of condoms. I decided that all men didn’t turn into big green monsters.
I woke up after about 3 hours of sleep to hear my phone ringing. I had forgotten about Ginny! It was Tuesday. Ginny and I always met on Tuesdays. I told Ginny to met me at Bojangles because we weren’t far from there. Ginny lived close by but I couldn’t have her pick me up here…I had told her I spent the night with Sara. I woke Matt and told him that Ginny called and she couldn’t see me here. So he agreed to drop me off at Bojangles. I was actually glad he wasn’t dropping me off at my house, like we had originally planned. I didn’t want him knowing my address to come and ask for sex again….
He told me I smelled like sex and to hop in the shower. I was worried and quickly tried to clean off.
As he drove, his hand was on my thigh, which was comforting and scary at the same time. I asked if this meant we were a couple. I think his answer was something like, “only if you want” but I’m sure he grinned at the thought. I said No, I didn’t think it was right in the gentlest way I could think of. I wanted him to stay my friend, but never do this again.
We waited in the parking lot of Bojangles for Ginny. I got out of the car, relieved that it was all over but trying not to show it and went to Ginny’s car. I tried to hold myself together but Ginny was suspicious of something and I can’t lie to her…so I told her everything. I don’t remember her reaction.
After we had spent the morning together, she dropped me off at dad’s office like she does every Tuesday. I clocked in and Mr. Overprotective Psycho pounced as soon as he saw me, and said I had an STD. That scared me, witch is exactly what he was trying to do. I can’t talk to him face to face because I’m scared to death of him. He’s nearly hit me before and could beat me to a pulp in under five minutes and he was perfectly willing to I’m sure, with or without my karate training.
My face fell as I went to work. I texted him what kind I had and he answered that it was HPV. I didn’t know what that was, but all he really needed to say was that I had an STD and his goal was achieved. I kept trying not to gag and reach as I worked. My face was white but I didn’t cry.
When I got home, I had to tell someone and get help. Plus I wasn’t even sure. I didn’t have Matt’s number, so I immediately called Sara, who knew how to contact him. I cried and sobbed out that I might have an STD and wanted to warn Matt. She was shocked. I kept apologizing…she said she was willing to take me to the Health Department the next time I was at school to make sure. I would have to skip class…but I always skipped so that was okay with me. She said she would tell Matt that night when he got online.
That was settled but I was still scared and wanted someone to hold on to.
I called my mom, in California, and told her everything. I also said the only way I could have gotten this was by being born with it or getting from the rape. Mom reassured me that I was not born with it and I remembered that after the rape I had gone to the hospital and the nurse said she would call if she found anything suggesting an STD. She never called.
I learned from somewhere(possibly the internet), that HPV only lasts in a woman’s body for two years…it was March 2009 and the rape was in February 2007. I was safe. I felt a little better.
Mom told me to call an old friend of hers, Jimmy Alred(who lives near Asheville), and tell him everything I had told her(She had given me his number as a ‘protection against dad’). In my blind panic, I did exactly that. When I had finished my story the first thing he said was, “You need ice cream.” in a gentle tone, suggesting that he was about to cry. I started crying from relief. He understood and was going to help me! I had never had help from a man before…growing up with bruce, I thought all children were treated as if they didn’t matter and I didn’t know what respect was…for the most part. I don’t remember exactly what was said, but he mentioned his daughter Michelle could take me to the Health Department. That was all I needed to hear. I was so thankful, that for once I was speechless. I think.
Afterwards, I filled the tub and stepped into nice, warm, relaxing water. I had the main light off and incense burning. I was starting to feel much better when my phone rang. It was near at hand, so I grabbed it. It was Matt. I was worried, but knew I needed to tell him.
He was furious that I had not told him this beforehand. He was screaming about, “Did you know that HPV doesn’t go away for men?” Or something like that. “I’ll never be able to have sex again!!” I started crying anew because I did not know that. Plus he was yelling at me. I started to apologize again and again saying I didn’t know that. And I didn’t know I had an STD, and I was going to get checked at some point. Sara and Michelle had already offered to take me. I said all that, and he still was screaming. I thought, “If we had sex, and it doesn’t go away for men, then he really does have the right to scream at me.” So I let him, I was still was crying and apologizing over and over and saying I didn’t know. He thought I was lying.
After at least 90 minutes of this, I got out of the tub, and being emotionally, mentally and verbally spent, I put on my pajamas and fell into bed.
Now this part of the memory is a little fuzzy.
From what I can positively recall, I went to AB Tech and skipped class like I normally did and went to the cafeteria where all of my current friends were. Matt was sitting over on the couch with Laura, a girl I knew in high school, her face buried in his shoulder, looking like she was asleep. Sara and Mac were also there, so were a lot of others I didn’t talk to much and don’t remember the names of at the moment. One of them was named Alex…
They all knew about it. I knew they all would but I just went into the group and sat in front of Matt. I said hi to Laura…who we all called Bean. She mumbled back. I was nervous, but struck up some kind of conversation with Matt. He was talking sweetly, like the last night had never happened, from what I remember.
Then when everyone had left to go to whatever class, I was alone. I’m not sure exactly how this happened, but I remember some guy coming over and saying he was a friend of Matt’s. Without thinking, I told him something I did not know was a bad thing to say. Maybe I had seen or talked to him before and was happy to have someone to talk to again. Sometimes I talk, purely for the sake of talking. I told this guy as a secret, this thing that I didn’t know was horrible, but didn’t want to say it out loud ‘cause it sounded private. I thought guys knew these things about each other. Guess not…Sarah had a little blonde moment.
Sara, before she left, had taken me aside and talked about driving me to the Health Department. She seemed really worried and scared for me, witch made me glad to have a friend like her. I hoped she would stay my friend for a long time…I told her another friend would take me. One she didn’t know. She looked taken aback from what I remember. That was probably a bad idea, not to let her take me…seeing as I wanted to remain friends and she had given me all sorts of useful advice. She asked me who this friend was(it was Michelle), what day and time the appointment was and would I call her as soon as it was over. I agreed. (I remember telling her it was Michelle, and later in the week…I don’t recall any other answers I gave. But seeing how caring she was, I wouldn’t doubt she asked me to call.)
Later(I remember being outside dad’s office), Matt had heard the horrible thing I said, and called asking why I’d insult him like that. I said I didn’t know it was bad and I’m sorry. I began to cry and apologize over and over again. Matt also said that Laura wasn’t asleep on his shoulder at all, but shaking with fury, as she thought I had purposely done this and the only thing holding her back from stabbing me with her fork, was a promise to Matt. I was very surprised and asked him to continue holding her back from me.
I went to my karate class one night(Tuesday and Thursday night classes: 6-8pm), I think this was after my Heath Department test and told Sensai(he knew nothing of the situation--I was absent from the class before too, so this must have been a Thursday class.) I felt sick. I did as much as I could, but I just couldn’t do anymore so I went to the side holding my stomach. By the end of class, a mother(of a student who left the karate class a while ago) saw me, and asked if I was alright. I pulled on her sleeve and whispered(because my voice wasn’t working) that I could have an STD and might have passed it on but didn’t know for sure. Whatever she expected, it wasn’t that.
That night I knelt before the toilet and tried to throw up for over an hour at least. People say, “don’t worry yourself sick”. I laughed at the irony, and yet thought it was amazing that you could actually worry yourself sick. I wasn’t worried for me now, I was worried and scared for Matt. |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 29, 2012 7:12 am
|
|
|
|
bla 13 So I can’t even ask for a damn cigarette now?
I was right. They are taking away my rights one by one.
I know cigarettes are bad for you, but there are times when you need a bit of nicotine. Jesus. I’m sorry that I’m not perfect like everyone else you know.
But ya know, I don’t have friends.
Judy says, “I don’t think you should be smoking.” And who are you to say that? My sister? Bullshit. You’re a piece of furniture.
Also, right when she says that, she gets out a cigarette for herself. Hmm…what does that prove? Didn’t she just say it’s bad for me? Are our bodies that different? I thought we both had lungs and livers and teeth and s**t that are destroyed by cigarettes.
This is crap man. I can’t believe I’m still here. This life is nothing. I can’t believe no one’s done anything. Ya know, I actually feel like I’m not cared about at all. Nobody gives a damn for Sarah. “As long as it’s not me.” they think.
I could run away. Sure, everybody would be worried but they’d get over it in about a day because I hold no significance in their lives.
Dad only sees my brain damage and mom only sees my writing talent. What a way to treat a person, right?
I could kill myself,…but none of them would understand why except Ginny. But there are things I want to do and accomplish and see. So I can’t.
They all think the only importance of me is either my ability to write or my need of protection. I’m 23 and my life is s**t. I can’t even have friends to talk to. What kind of bullshit is that? I’m 23 and my life is s**t. I would fix it, but apparently I can’t do it without the right tools. And I don’t have those.
Huh. I bet mom forgot her promise already. Why would she care anyway? I’m only her daughter, right? Her special needs, could-be-retarded daughter at that. She’s out of this hell, why go back in? |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 29, 2012 7:15 am
|
|
|
|
bla 14
I don’t want this to end. I feel like these people actually care about me. I feel important and appreciated. I know this will sound weird, but I just don’t feel important to my own family. I feel like they don’t want me, and like I said before everyone would be happier if I was just gone.
Every time someone rubs my back or even says “Hey Sarah. What’s up?” I just feel like this is how it should be and I enjoy being noticed like that. I didn’t even know more then three of them knew my name, but everyone does and it’s great. People actually ask me what’s wrong when my face isn’t all bright. I thought actors were supposed to be self-centered, but that’s just a stereotype. They actually care!! Jenny asked me if I enjoyed her birthday cake. I didn’t eat any of it, but I said it was delicious, because that’s what everyone else said…and I was surprised that she’d even ask me something like that because no one ever does. Merisole is a social worker and I showed her my court records. I’m not exactly sure she’ll do anything, but …it’s a better start then I’ve ever had. She gave the papers a quick look and asked me what judge signed it. She had to go dress up, but it’s so nice to finally have people be concerned and worried. Jeff and Cody are sooo nice to me and Cody actually seems like he likes me. I mean I don’t know, but he just asks me how I am before he heads out on stage. And tonight when Jeff and he were standing in those silly flower seaweed cloak-y things, he was dancing and when I looked and smiled, he danced more. It seemed like my laughter and smiles were kindof important. Jenny’s actually invited me to go with her to a bar! She’s insulted that I haven’t been to one yet. And Katie always makes sure I’m doing good, and Paul stood outside the building waiting with me, for my ride. We had an after party last night, and Kristen helped me sing Karaoke! Jenny seems concerned about my level of alcohol because I’ve never drank before. Michelle invited me to some kind of Atheist thingie…I didn’t know what to say back, because dad would flip and forbid me to go and therefore, knowing me, that would make me want to go more…I did want to go. Hey, it might be cool. But when I didn’t get back to her,…she didn’t hate me! She still says hi to me. And Kelly didn’t push me out of her house.
Jenny was so pissed off that I’m 23 and treated like this…granted, we all had a bit to drink, but she seemed really angry about it. I mean I know it’s not good, but I smiled and felt kindof happy that someone besides me was angry about my situation and wanted something done. She even offered to make calls and explain it to important people!!
And everybody says thank you and is very nice about asking me to do things.
When I was in the wig room last week, crying silently, Barbara came in and asked what was wrong.
And once when Merisole was walking by me to go out on stage, she said, “Thank you. We appreciate it.” or something like that, like she knew exactly what I was thinking.
And Mark is so nice and cool. He brought his friend Anthony (boyfriend, maybe?), and he and I got along great!
Merisole might actually get something done, but she says she needs proof. Like, people will come investigate? I hope not, because I know how that will end. I hope they’ll take me at my word. I think I’ll just give her all these documents and hopefully that’ll be enough evidence. There’s probably going to be some kind of interrogation of the family, but I know how that will end too. I hope Jenny and Merisole fight for me. I will too, of course, but just….this…neglect has taken so much out of me that my body hurts.
I just hope no one sees me as dramatic and self-centered or any negative thing like that. I’ll feel bad if I make any of them feel like I’m just doing and saying these things to get attention!
When I said I don’t have a job but want one, Michelle mentioned CVS on Tunnel. When I repeated it to Judy, she just shook her head. I asked why and she just said no. I was really kidndof excited about it, but she kept saying no and didn’t give a reason.
Jenny says to get a job at Goodwill. That sounds fine, but…it’s so far away….if Judy’s unwilling to take me to Tunnel Road anyway, why would she help with that suggestion? Plus she’d prob’ly get this look of disgust on her face, like, Why would you want to work there?!
They care!! They want my freedom as much as I do, err…maybe. I dunno. But they look like it. I hope so anyway. I hope I get to stay friends with all of them. Such great people! I don’t want to seem pushy or obsessive, but…I really hope I stay in touch with most of them.
And Jenny seemed concerned that she was missing my karate tournament. I felt like a pathetic little baby feeling bad that she couldn’t come, but …I wanted to feel important, like someone was going there to be MY friend and watch ME. Just…I’ve never felt important to anyone before, no one’s cared for me. And I don’t want them to think I’m saying these things for attention…I just want my freedom and I feel like they understand that.
They just care and it’s really, really nice.
I was curled up on the floor because people were on the couch and Sarah never likes to bother people. Jenny and Monica noticed…and Jenny ….seemed…..what’s the word….aggressively concerned? That I was sleeping on the floor…she was a real person.
It was just nice…my family would ask why I was on the floor and I would say, I’m sleepy and you’re on the couch. And they would shrug and be totally okay with it.
When I was cold one night, Monica gave me her sweater…Judy would just shrug.
It feels like I actually mean something.
Once, when I came in crying, I went straight to the wig room and let it all out silently. Barbara came in and asked what was wrong! And actually listened! And gave me a look that didn’t say, “ why are you talking like this?” but “I am listening and concerned.”
Now, I don’t want people to think I’m saying this for attention, I just…want something done and can’t do it myself. No one in my family gets that. I can barely stand up for myself anymore. I’m serious. My emotions are so…spent, that now it’s my muscles and body that hurt.
I just like them a lot.
I know I can’t talk about it too much ‘cause then everyone will think I want attention and am a drama queen. Not true. I just want help. Now. And actual friends.
So I’m trying not to bring too much attention to it. I try to have fun and be happy, but the truth is I’m actually really depressed about it all. Once I said, I don’t want to go home. As true as that is, I don’t want it to be the ONLY thing they know me for.
I want them to know I’m fun and happy and friendly too. It’s hard to be that way when you’re sad and lonely though. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 29, 2012 7:21 am
|
|
|
|
blah 15
Why is it so hard to let Sarah live her own life? Why? I demand to know.
I’m going to have sex. I’m going to drink. I’m going to eat cookies and ice cream. But I’m not going to be stupid about it!
I’m not like you. I’m me. Just me. Why can’t I be me? I have issues, yes, I am aware of that. I will have these problems for the rest of my life. They’re not such a big deal. They are just part of who and what I am. I’ve never had the experience to live without them, so I think I know them all pretty well. They’re just part of me.
I will have to keep an eye on them, but as long as they stay in line I’ll be fine. It’s not like a disk, where you can put on and take out what you want. I’ll have problems for the rest of my life. And no one can do anything about it.
They’re just not a big deal to me. Like kids, if you keep them in line, you’ll have no problem. But if things get out of hand…then, unlike kids who just have to be punished in some way, I just have to deal with it. And later go calm down.
I don’t care that I have problems. Yes, they become irritating at times to myself and others, but ….I just don’t care. I guess they’re the only things in the world I can truly call my own.
My brain damage is just like children. They’re good most of the time, but they can also be difficult to control. That’s an analogy I never thought I’d make. But kids are kids, and sometimes you just have to let them be kids. Every child is different. So is the damage. When it all crowds together and starts screaming, it’s extremely difficult. Apart, they’re fine. Together, they’re hell.
I really don’t mind the brain damage. Since I’ve always had it, I can’t remember a time when I didn’t.
And to be honest, I’m glad I have brain damage. I think if I didn’t, I would be a completely different person. And I like who I am. Not driving is a pain in the a**, but it’s easily remedied if I either live in the right area or with the right kinds of people. For mood swings, I just need to get it out or go away so I can get it out. And I am a very emotional person when it comes to it. But I don’t mind. My temper…yes, that’s a problem. But I like it. It gets things done. Normally. And when this whole shitty deal is over, I can get stabilizer pills.
I’m not the healthiest person or the most active or the cleanest or even the most sanitary. And I’m fine with that. I really don’t care. I like cookies and cake…and yes, I do still eat whipped cream straight from the nozzle and pour hot chocolate mix down my throat. But I also like to fit into clothes and be attractive. So yea…exercise is good. I’ll do it. I don’t go to bed at 9:00. So? I don’t even have anything to do most days. If I did, yea, maybe I could work on changing that around. I don’t like bugs in my house. So no, I’m not going to leave food sitting around for days. I will dispose of it in whatever way possible. And yes, eating is one of the ways of disposal as is the trash. Sometimes I don’t even eat for a day. So? I’m just not hungry enough to get food. If I see food, however, I will eat it. And my bathing schedule? It’s fine. I don’t smell. I don’t like bad smells so if I feel like I have an odor that I don’t like, then yes. I will shower.
I’m lazy. So is everyone. If I say I’ll do it, leave it alone. I will do it. But on my time. Not yours.
I get irritated easily. That can be an issue for everyone if it gets out of hand. When I am irritated or upset, trust me, you will know. If you don’t, I will tell you. Then…just leave me alone. I have a scale. Level One is Irritated/Upset. Two is Angry. Three is Mad. Four is Furious. Five is Pissed. I am usually on level one all day every day. If I make it to three…my advice is to choose your words wisely. Usually when I’m at level two or three I can calm myself within five hours for sure and I calm back down to level one and do not go past level one in the calming process. If I go past four, it usually takes someone else to calm me. Someone that I actually like and respect and does not mind being struck or cursed at.
When I am at level one I will give a hateful glare and answer very sarcastically. All others I stare ahead at all times and either explode or not talk at all.
It’s very easy to tell when I am exiting ‘pleasant’ and stepping onto the scale. I stare, get rigid, cross my legs very tightly, and bite my lip. In other words, I just look very tense. It’s subtle, but I have survived thus far by being subtle.
You don’t want me to scream at you. More then likely I will say something you do not want me to say. Even an observation I made of you, when you did not think I was watching.
Making Sarah angry is not a good idea.
I know myself very well. And I really don’t think anyone else knows themselves even half as well as this until they are 40 or so.
I know I’m not stupid. It irritates me to know that people are convinced of that.
I live for myself. You’re not happy with what I do, say, who I’m with blah, blah, blah,…I don’t care. You’re not the one I need to make happy. I have sacrificed myself for twenty-three years. I have missed out on five years of life. I’m never going to get those back. I don’t need to impress anyone, except those of my choosing. I don’t need anyone’s approval except for my own and those I ask it of. I make myself happy. Period.
People have three lives. Personal, business, and family. They should never mix, unless one has thought about all the pros and cons and chooses to do so. This decision must be well thought out. If it is changed in the midst of things, there will be problems with everyone involved.
An adult needs to act their age and be mature. It is natural for one to have fun as if one was a child again, as long as you can come back from that.
I follow my feelings. Usually for the simple reason that my feelings are sudden, intense and hard to control and/or hide. I have emotional problems because the lack of oxygen clearly hit that spot of the brain. When it gets to a certain point, I will do/say whatever I feel like doing/saying. I will be in a passionate fury and sometimes don’t know what I am doing because I am blinded by anger and usually tears. I always know what I am saying however, and have acute hearing so it’s best not to whisper under your breath. When I am the slightest bit angry with a person, I pay very close attention to my words. Don’t be alarmed if I curse. It’s either normal or I have a very strong opinion and am making sure you know it. I can yell also. Beware of the voice of Sarah. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 29, 2012 7:24 am
|
|
|
|
bla 16
I’d like to be on my own. Does anybody understand that? Have no one to answer to but myself and get to make my own friends and eat my own food and listen to my own music.
I’m not important to this family and they’re not important to me. I don’t care about them, and they don’t care about me. I don’t love a single one of them and not a single one of them loves me. I don’t trust them and they don’t trust me.
That much is clear.
So why am I still here? I’ll tell you why. Because I can’t get out of here by myself and not a single one of these people is going to help me. Their idea is to keep me a loser for the rest of my life, unless I choose to be a doctor or nurse. The medical profession does not interest me. It never has.
I don’t mind getting a job and working hard. In fact, I actually want to. How many losers actually want to work and pay for themselves? It’ll be a pain for sure, and I’ll definitely have some complaints, but…I’ll be making my own living, and that’s the point. Who doesn’t have complaints about work every so often anyway?
I want to buy my own clothes and shoes. If someone offers to buy me clothes, I’m not going to refuse, but most people I know as of this moment don’t like my sense of fashion.
It makes no sense to me why these people don’t just throw me out.
They keep me stuffed in this chicken coop that is far too small for me because daddy dearest doesn’t want to loose me ever again. I nearly died when I was 21 months. And as a result of lack of oxygen to the brain I suffered brain damage. It was difficult going through my school years for sure. Everyone involved suffered in some way or another. I had developmental problems. Not that I actually knew what that meant(I still don’t), but from what I observed of myself I think it means that I had a hard time grasping things. Slow learner, easily distracted, a bit of attention deficit hyperactive disorder perhaps. Maybe it means that my brain just didn’t develop quite as quickly as others. Or the same way. My maturity level was surely a thing to be questioned especially during high school.
But ya know what? That’s done. It’s water under the bridge. High school is behind me and so are most of the issues I had in those years. I graduated, not with honors or anything. But I graduated and that’s the point. I actually have a diploma witch is just a nice, thick, slightly heavier then normal, grayish yellow paper with a border and fancy writing to say that Sarah Jane Councell has graduated high school and completed all the necessary requirements. I remember the exact day too. June 2nd 2005. That’s on the diploma too and in the records of A.C. Reynolds High School of Asheville, North Carolina if you’d like to check there.
So I do have proof I’m not stupid. And if you need even more proof you should look at the books I read. Little Women, Lord of the Rings, The Secret Garden, Memoirs of a Geisha,…the list goes on. You can’t be dumb and understand those books. I’ve taken three years of Sign Language too. Ya know, you really can’t be stupid if you want to learn another language.
I take Karate as well. And am nearing the brown belt level. Does anyone actually know the reason I chose to do this? Well, so if someone ******** with me, I can force them to stop. Witch basically says I want to protect myself against wierdos. I can’t make that decision and be stupid, can I? Plus if I was stupid, I probably would have quit before even making it halfway. I need a way to control my weight and release anger as I do admit I have anger issues.
I want to learn chess. Why? Because I want to have logic skills. I already have them, but chess could help build ‘em up. I also read books about ancient mythology. Now really. You have to be smart to understand that stuff, because, contrary to popular belief, it is actually quite difficult to stick it in your head.
AND just look at this writing. Does this seem like the writing of a stupid person?
Oh and now you’re worried about responsibility. Well, I have a fish who I have had since April 12th and he’s not dead yet. I have a kitty, and I feed and water him and ya know what? He actually loves me. I have about a dozen or so potted plants out on my porch and they’re still blooming and flourishing as much as they can.
Now bear all of that in mind. AND the admittance that I have brain damage as well as anger issues. Knowing all that you know of me from this writing, do you really think I would go out and be a prostitute? Or a drunk? I’ve discovered that I don’t like beer. I like wine and liquor better.
So if I graduated high school five years ago, why am I not in college? Because I didn’t choose to be. I have no intention of being an actress or lawyer or doctor. Because, frankly, I know my limits. I know I cannot act and I also know I have stage fright. Meaning that if I’m put on the spot, I’ll do something to screw it up.
The only things I really want to take any sort of course in is just random things. Like mythology, literature, some language or other, and backstage theatre work.
The only main thing I’m interested in is Theatre. And no, I do not plan to act. Just help out back stage would be good enough for me. Theatre…meaning plays on stage, not TV movies. Though I suppose that wouldn’t be bad either seeing as they’re both for viewing pleasure and therefore kindof the same. The technology and business terms may be a bit different, but I see no major explosion of difference in the two.
Animals as well, though the only profession I can think of involving animals would be a vet and I’m sorry, but I have no intention of ever sticking a thermometer up a dogs butt. I suppose a caretaker would be an option, but caretaker of what? I don’t know. I bet there are a whole bunch of animal jobs I’ve never heard of. Um…there’s animal rescue I suppose. But that would be dealing with either very mean and vicious animals or very sad cases.
I’d also like to be a translator. I think that would be very interesting.
Anyway, that’s it. And those are just basic ideas. Nothing really definite. And nothing that really needs a college degree. I mean, they could…and I have no doubt that some jobs in these areas do require a degree, but meh…ya know.
When I was little I always dreamed of being one of those ancient sages who you traveled over oceans to see in a temple in like China or somewhere and you asked a question and they would give a very cryptic but simple answer. As I grew older, I pictured myself as some kind of master of martial arts and giving classes and people calling me Sensai. I guess I like the ancient Eastern cultures…
Also, I laugh at this. But I wanted to be an underwater vet.
History would also be an interesting topic to study. I’ve always wanted to know everything’s purpose and where it came from.
I want life to be fun and interesting and sometimes different every day. Not this boring crap where I sit all day at the computer and do nothing because people think I’m too lazy and stupid to do anything. It’s rather annoying to know that people think negatively of you.
I want to experience different cultures and lifestyles. I want to be happy. That’s it. I don’t want a big old fancy-shmancy house or car,…I just want memories I love.
And as of this moment, I don’t really have many. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 29, 2012 7:27 am
|
|
|
|
bla 17
The only reason I’m at this level in karate is because I’ve been playing the ‘feel sorry for me because I have brain damage’ card and Jerry doesn’t push me as hard as anyone else. He’s just been giving me these belts. Granted it’s very kind of him, but I don’t deserve this. The thing is, though, that I started playing that card and didn’t even realize it. I was happy for the belts. Jerry’s been being nice to me because I have problems. But no more. I have two weeks to work my a** off and make it look like I’ve been workin like this for five years.
I can get this. I know I can. Everybody in that class knows it. I’m just not setting my mind to it. Jake came in tonight and kindof took me under his wing and put me to work man. I was pouring sweat within ten minutes. I was about to cry and he knew it. He felt bad and gave me the last 30 minutes off. I’m not good at masking my emotions, so I’ve just stopped trying to.
He made me do the kata over and over and over again. Constantly. If I paused, or made a face he made me get down and do 10 push-ups. I still owe him 30. My knuckles were sore and carpet burned, my wrists kept giving out after the second set of ten. He didn’t care about it being right, what he wanted was for me to keep going no matter what. And I mean that’s probably the kind of training I need. That’s the first real work I’ve done in years I think. My face was red, I was dizzy and sweating, my muscles were tired, and I wanted to punch him. But I mean, he’s a big dude. If he wasn’t a gentleman, he would bowl me over if I did that. He could beat me within an inch of my life if he wanted.
Honestly, I should still be a blue belt if Jerry would be real about it.
I can do more then 20 push-ups. But Jake put my hands in a different position. Can’t do more then two at a time with ‘em like that.
If I get this belt, I can bank on 18 months til the black belt exam. I’m too close to the end to quit now. I just need to really work for it and practice. Jake said practice for two hours a night til the exam. Practice my Kata he meant. I just kept pausing and trying to think of what’s next.
At the end I was completely winded, sat down and all I wanted was to fall apart and eat chicken.
I seem to be better at everything when I just stop thinking. I over think everything. And it’s getting ridiculous. But I can’t just not think! How am I ever supposed to prove I’m worthy of …anything if I stop thinking. No one even believes I can live alone! If I stop thinking about that, then how will anyone see that I can?
I need this belt now. I can’t be passed over for this exam. My whole plan would be screwed.
I need to leave Asheville for good. Never come back. I need this belt, because then I would only have 18 months more to go. And I can pass that time, no problem. I got classes I plan to take, I can volunteer all over, I can get a little side job and maybe even make a few friends. Not super fantastic ones though. That’s against my rules. A year and a half really isn’t that long. I can still get the Asheville experience that I haven’t gotten yet.
Anyway, my plan is to make black belt and leave. That’s it. Still need to decide where to and all that. But other then the black belt, I have no reason to stay. Except for Ginny, and she and I can always keep in touch anyway. Just move away somewhere and live the life I want to. Be out of the Councell’s for good. Never see or speak to them again. (all ways of contact included) Never return to Asheville again except to see the Biltmore House like every other tourist in the world. Even then wear a wig and gaudy clothes that I would never wear. So I can ‘not be there’.
And I’m sick of not living my own life! I just wish Asheville wasn’t so amazingly beautiful…
My family is driving insane. Literally. I can’t have a life. I can’t do s**t. I can’t even have a job.
But I have got to make black belt here because Jerry is the best martial arts teacher in the whole of Western North Carolina. And I mean there are other schools out there for sure, but just look at how close the black belt is. If I quit now, I’ll have to start all over, and that would be another 6-7 years. And it would mean I’m a quitter. Even if I do find another Shoto-kan dojo, none but the all-time best would be better at teaching then Jerry. Or Jake or Emma. 18 months. Give or take about 2 months I would say. I’m just too god damn close.
I have to make this belt. My life depends on it. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 29, 2012 7:29 am
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 29, 2012 7:30 am
|
|
|
|
bla 19
August 5, 2010--1:34 pm
Okay. I have a dilemma. I just got a check for $83.25. And I have 20 bucks that Ginny’s kept for me. Together that makes103 dollars. Plus I have a bunch of change. It’s mostly pennies, but there are other coins as well. I’m guessing there’s about two to five dollars in there.
I have $138 in the bank.
Now, if I put all of it in there, I’ll have close to 250. But I also like to have some cash on me at all times. So…how much shall I keep?
I only work at dad’s office every Wednesday, for about five hours. Yesterday, I worked four. I need an every day job, where I can make 100 dollars every two days or so.
Michelle says I shouldn’t do anything with the money until there’s at least 1000 dollars. How am I gonna make $1000 working as little as I do? That’ll take years!
No one knows about the money or that I have my own Debit Card except for Ginny, Michelle and mom.
I only use it to buy fabric when I’m with Ginny.
But if I get one of these jobs at the mall, I will have money. And everybody will know it. I don’t want anyone in my family to find out that I have money, or a Debit card. Absolutely no one is to know about this.
If anyone finds out, then I can be sure dad will find out somehow and try to take control of it.
I want to get out of here as soon as I can. Literally. So I need the 1000 dollars or so quickly. But…it’s going far too slow.
If I get a job, I will have money, and be able to build up the amount more quickly, but everyone will know that I have money and I wouldn’t have a problem with that, except that my family is nosey and overbearing and waaay too protective. They don’t think I can do s**t. They don’t trust me with a ten dollar bill.
If I work one day a week, for the 52 weeks in a year, that’s 52 days. That’s roughly 2 months. At 8 dollars an hour--but I also work four to five hours a day. 8x5 is 40. 40x52 is 2080. So that means if I do work for a year there I’ll have 2000 dollars. That’s over 1000, so …..then I can leave and buy an apartment. But then I’ll have to find a new job. The new job will probably not pay eight dollars an hour…but it’ll do something. And I can sell my sewing…and my photography…
But there’s always the legal guardian problem. I wonder if doing this will prove that I am competent.
And the new apartment will probably not be half as nice as this. And I’ll have to pay bills, witch I’ve never done before and it sounds scary. And buy all my own stuff pretty much, witch is what I want, but still scares me. But the point is I’ll be living my own life by myself and have no one to answer to but me. And that’s what I want. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 29, 2012 7:33 am
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 29, 2012 7:35 am
|
|
|
|
bla 24
Mom always wanted me to write. And I do too. Always said I was good. And I most definitely am.
If I wrote a book, and everything went well with it, I’d be set with money for life pretty much. Well, I find talking to be a much much better outlet for feelings then writing. I am quite a talker. I use words very well, not a talent many people have, I’ve found out. But again, writing is a way to in a sense set yourself above such trivial and forgettable events of emotions. Writing means it’s not just there for the moment, like talking is. Spoken words are forgotten almost instantly. But if I write, …my moments of true sadness, happiness, anger and confusion can be saved and remembered. And possibly mean something to another person. Carry more weight then if it was spoken if you will. It rather forces upon you the viewpoints that are more felt and can’t be explained in verbal words. Writing is a way to set down what I say as truth. And not just a passing thought. It would be nice to have what I truly think and feel as a book, but then, if I do write about my own life, then…I’m tearing myself apart for people to see everything. Witch is what I want, but…at the same time, I don’t. I want to hide away and never speak of things again. In talking, that’s very easy to do. But with writing…it’s just a whole different way of letting out …myself. There’s an enormous difference between writing and talking. It’s like talking about the pink elephant, ya know? There are certain lines you can cross with writing but not with talking. And I’m not sure I’m ready to cross those lines. It’s the difference between what you feel when you hear something, and see words on paper. With writing, you can always go back and read it again, delete or add things. In talking, what you say, is just there. You have to make all the fine tuning before the words fall from your lips. They both are the same and are not.
In talking, I can let out my feelings, explain myself to the stupidest person, make anybody understand anything. But after five minutes, no one remembers what I said at all. Just the point.
In writing, I’m not willing to burn myself raw exactly, change how others feel about me.
I want to change how people think and feel about me, that’s been my goal forever. But I don’t want to rub myself raw and give a perfect target.
I should write. But I’m scared to.
I know I should share my life. I know I could make a damn good point with my life story. I know I could prove certain things and disprove others.
I can’t exactly say why I’m scared to write. I just am. I don’t want to go back in my memory and search out how every single damn thing went down. My memories are too painful. Plus I’m not even sure I can paint the scenes correctly or tell what happened really. I don’t want to look at the bad things again. I don’t want to find out again things that made me cry and realize I was different and my life was different. However, I do want to tell my story because I’m proud of what I have become, I like having wisdom beyond my years, I went to hell and back and others need to see my story so maybe it could help them. I just don’t like remembering because it makes me cold and hot all at once. It hurts. I know amputation is good, but it still hurts like a ********. And no one can help me do it. Others can support me, but they can’t pull up my memories and thoughts. I have to spill my own heart.
I’ve been thinking of a title. “A Quest: To Make Them See”. Seems like a good one. Thought provoking for sure. Make who see what? Is it literal or not? It’s a book I would pick up and begin to read. And what do you mean ‘a quest’? Suppose I could dictate. But… that would be sharing my whole life with someone who is writing my book and could give me all kinds of crazy looks and comments. The writer would see me furious and giggly and filled with drama and just sobbing so hard. A recorder I guess would be the best bet. But I have a hard time remembering to do anything regularly. Even eating and bathing. How is making people see a quest anyway? Lots of questions with that title. I like it. And quests are usually life long and medieval knight things. And are usually done for honor back in the day. I just want to share my story so people know. Know what? That I’ve been through real s**t and come back swinging. Or plan to anyway. I’m sick of seeing movies with like paranormal worlds and fantastical happenings and creatures that resemble hell with it’s backdrop of red flames and bared gates. People need to understand that hell is real. It’s not below the ground you walk on and heaven is not above the sky. Hell is real. And it’s not a place to send enemies of trivial high school affairs. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 29, 2012 7:37 am
|
|
|
|
bla 25
Social Security woman
Mom and I went to the social security office of Vincennes, Indiana. We were called back to a cubicle where we sat down to face a freckled, sharp eyed, blonde woman. Her hair seemed matted to her head. Automatically, I knew I didn’t like this woman.
She was thin and mean looking. If humans could have talons, this woman would have them. Her mouth was thin and she did not smile.
I sat in the corner chair and let mom have the one easier for her to get to. The woman looked at me. Her eyes had a set look in them. As soon as she heard I was special needs, I was invisible to her. I sat up straight, didn’t talk and answered her questions to me with a mumbled, but comprehensible “yes ma’am”. I dutifully signed my name to the papers she slid across to me and recalled my social security number and date of birth.
When mom leaned across to me and whispered “you can put it in your envelopes.”(the money; we had talked about this earlier), her head moved like a hawk ripping it’s beak out of a kill and narrowing on it‘s next target. “What did you say? To her.” She demanded as she jerked her head in my direction. Like what information passed between mother and child is actually her business. Oh, so I’m actually a girl, now? And a human being too, with a capability to understand spoken words? Well, gosh, I feel honored to be in your presence too, Miss Prickle Pants.
She kept saying “not able to pay for myself” like I’m not sitting right there. She said I’m not allowed to have my own bank account because I would take all of the money and go do stupid things with it because I don’t know a damn thing about the world apparently. She was so convinced, she went even further.
She seemed she was avoiding me like I was the black plague and poking her nose up at the same time. The thought that stayed in my mind was Do you have children?.
If the idea had come to me at that point, I would have slapped her. I sat there, trying not to gape and slouch, just dumbfounded that she has the gall not to look at me when she is speaking about my money. Witch does actually greatly concern me, because, after all, the money belongs to me, does it not? This is all of MY business, and it is MY choice what I choose to do with it. “Not able” my a**. Her skin looked like it was wrapped too tightly around her body, although it was melting off her as if to say, “I don‘t like her either.”
No one talks to me like that. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 29, 2012 7:40 am
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 29, 2012 7:42 am
|
|
|
|
bla 27
When I’m bored and trying to find something to do, I always ask myself What do I want to do? as if money and transportation were nothing to fret about. Sometimes I can come up with an answer right off the bat, and sometimes it takes a bit of time to decide. And sometimes I just can’t think of anything. And after that question comes the classic What CAN I do? witch usually turns out to be a whole list of things I don’t really feel like.
Write…what do I write about?
Draw…I have no talent.
Take a walk…that would involve getting dressed. What’s wrong with that? Do I actually have a need to dress myself today? No.
Practice karate…dressing again.
Shower…already did.
Eat…nothing good.
Read…meh.
See, in my head, the conversation goes as if it’s multiple people and not just me, witch kinda makes me smile a little bit to be honest. But everyone IS me, witch makes it so much more fun to converse with myself. I am so smart and funny when I’m another person. I love me.
I actually made a list of what to do when I’m bored once. It wasn’t much longer then the one above.
It’s Sunday and there’s no TV here. And no internet. So the time goes by pretty slowly. No computer games either.
I actually should start dressing every day. That could really help my chances of being independent. But like everyone else in the 16-26ish age group that has no friends and no job, I’m a lazy butt. School, well, I don’t have that either.
Plus I’ve got a stomach virus, so I’m not allowed to be around people for a while anyway. I’m not a fan of computer games anyway. But at least they’re time consuming. I’m not into stuff like World of Warcraft. That s**t can take over your life if you don’t watch it. I don’t approve really of those sorts of games anyway. Why? I guess it’s more because I just don’t imagine things that way. I mean, yea, WoW is cool and fun, but…it’s very demanding. Or at least that’s how it seems to me.
Sometimes when I ask What do I want to do? the answer is immediately rock climbing. Never done it before, but, dude, it looks like so much fun! I have done the little rock wall things at the YMCA, and I can’t make it far up the wall anyway, but I wanna try it. I repelled once at the Cove Camp, witch was like 15 years ago, but the repelling was awesome!
I’m reading House Rules by Jodi Picoult now. It’s #10 on my list. I’ve been doing this Reading List for 3 years now and I really like it. It gets me reading. I’m not one of the kids who can read for hours on end and I’m not like in LOOOOVE with reading, but hey, it is fun. And introduces me to books and writers. I have a set number of books to read each year and just write own the titles when I get them done. This year’s number is 20. I wish it was more. Maybe I can make it more for the next few years. I’m on 10 in June…so I’m okay. I could move it up to like 25ish…but that may be pushing it a bit far.
Most people I meet over the internet I say this to are either already doing it and are on book like 59 out of like 130.….(those are the kids who are reeeeally into reading and for that I admire them), or they like my idea so much that they’ll do it too.
So far I figured out that Stephen King is truly a great writer, but not exactly the genre I prefer. Lisa See is amazing and I want to read more of her…Jodi Picoult does really emotionally heavy stories. I’ve read two books by her so far, and am in a third, and I like her, but…to me it seems like she does stories about a dysfunctional child in a family of 4. So that the parents kindof focus on the one kid and not on the other(s)…like in this book the child, Jacob, has Asburgers. In the other two I read, one kid had cancer and the family relied on the sister for all the marrow and stuff needed to keep the cancer child alive. And the other one was about a boy who is accused of killing his girlfriend and does some time while everything’s figured out.
I like Jodi. I really do man.
And Tolkien. He’s amazing too. Lord of The Rings is totally classic. You can ask anyone about it and they’ll recognize the title. They can tell you they’ve seen the movies but never read the books, or tell you they’ve heard of it everywhere but never read or seen it. The ones who have read the books have probably read them multiple times. Myself, I’ve read through the series twice.
Tolkien did write more then Lord of the Rings. But I haven’t read any thing else by him yet. What he’s known for though, is that trilogy. The Hobbit too, of course. Some who have read the trilogy have read The Hobbit, and others haven’t. I did. Both times I read the trilogy. Tolkien meant it the be a prequel, but, again, some have read it, some haven’t.
I plan to read more See, Tolkien, Picoult and King novels. Let’s see, so far, I’ve read one Lisa See book, but it was fantastic…I so want to read more as soon as I can. Three Jodi Picoult books, counting the one I’m in now. Four Tolkien books(The Hobbit and the trilogy of course. Can’t go long in life without reading those.) and two King novels.
I don’t know how I feel about Stephen King. I loved The Talisman, but was really disappointed when I read Black House. I’m just mad at him now. Giving him a break for a little bit.
Lisa See I looooove. They are amazing. Wanna read all their books, and own some of them. Ask for them for presents defiantly. They are already on my birthday list.
Tolkien and King I’ll just keep checking out at the library. I own The Hobbit an Lord of the Rings trilogy already. I’ve been told to read others by him…The Silmarillion for one(my friend mentioned it, and said it took him a year to read. And he is smart! So...I’m a little intimidated if a super smart person takes a year to read it…I dunno)
I’ve been told that Peony Pavillion is great. But I’m looking forward to Snow Flower and the Secret Fan. I found it in Maliprops and it sounds amazing! But sadly…couldn’t buy it. Both are by Lisa See.
I’ve always wanted to be one of those people who just adored reading, but I’m just not. I like it, it’s fun and all that, but I’m just not into it like they are. That makes me sad. It’s another group I can’t really fit in with. Being a bookworm totally sounds like fun. But…it’s just not me. Tear.
All the time when I read, ALWAYS, it never fails, I just have to see how many pages are in the chapter before I begin. Sometimes it is a time issue, but most of the time it’s not at all. I just want to see, that’s all.
I’m so used to chapters being like 6 pages long, and it’s a bit difficult to get used to 20 page chapters when you’ve read Redwall your whole life. Seriously, I read that exclusively. Never anything else. Pathetic, I know. But now I’m just not used to 20 pages being a chapter…and some are even longer!! I even have to check how many pages are in the book. Is that weird at all? I’m fine with it, I really am. I just wonder if it makes me seem really odd and funky. I have no reason to do that, I just do.
When I imagine my perfect future, I always imagine a library like the one you see in Beauty and the Beast. I just like books. I think I probably just like the look of them but whatever, right? You should read them, and that’s what I’m trying to do. So don’t write me off so fast, at least give me a star for trying. Doesn’t have to be gold. Green would do.
And I want to read classics. A few have been suggested that seem intriguing. I’ll skip out on the boring ones. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 29, 2012 7:50 am
|
|
|
|
Christmas
Christmas 2009
Well, to be honest, it wasn’t that bad. Of course dad and Gail still annoyed me, as they always do, but it wasn’t that big a deal to me this time.
On the 24th, Tina, Judy, Gail and Nate were at the house. Tina, Gail and dad cooked dinner(dad didn’t cook. I think he just likes to watch and try to act like he knows what they’re doing as well as just watching his children’s talents…I don’t think he’d ever admit to it though. H also put in a very firm helping hand when he could.). They made about five pizzas from scratch. We couldn’t eat them all. I drank about a glass and a half of red wine throughout the night. We watched an hour and 45 minutes of the DVD’s mom sent, of her childhood. They were fun. The music was a bit cheesy, we all thought. There was no sound, I suppose because they hadn’t figured out how to put a microphone in the camera yet. We all squealed with delight when we saw little Susie Louise Buchanan come on screen with her little head and big red shiny hair piled into tight ringlets on her head. It looked like she had stars in her hair when the sun caught it. Her eyes sparkled and her mouth was wide and smiling. A few parts of the videos were black and white. I liked those parts just because of the vintage look. We saw grandpa and grandma when they were young. Hilga was very beautiful. And Jack …all I can say is he looked like a real man. I think (and I’m not the only one with these thoughts!) that I inherited Grandma’s beauty, her light skin and dark hair. We saw mom’s Grandparents and a bunch of people we didn’t recognize.
We saw grandpa wearing his Air Force jacket…we saw mom sledding with Uncle Danny and Aunt Carolyn and smash into the snow. There were little kids running around everywhere! There was this tiny red headed fat child who kept showing up.
There were watermelon eating contests and real family outdoor fun.
We all laughed at the school bus because it has improved so much since then. We sighed when we saw them all running around a yard we knew and pile on a big white fence where we took a family photo some (ten or so?) years ago.
Those movies were just fun and a very sweet thought from mom to us…
After we watched a bit of that, dad had to go to the hospital to check on a lady. We played family jeopardy, made by Judy. She did this for her “Dramatic Reading” tradition thing. Dramatic Readings are a thing Gail thought of. She wants it to be a family Christmas tradition. I think it sounds kindof cute…but with how Gail pushes everything, it began to seem not so great. I had “T’was the Night” down, if anybody had asked. But as nobody did, I didn’t see any reason to embarrass myself. Judy had made some really neat questions for Jeopardy. Personally, I think Judy does better with creativity when she’s pushed a tiny bit. Me, …I guess the only thing to say is…If I’m pushed for any kind of creativity, I’ll go out of my way not to do it.
I think it would be really neat if we did a game of Family Jeopardy every year. We could write down every major-ish family event for like 2 or 3 years…and put everything into the game. That would be really neat. I won second place. Tina won first, and Judy gave her ten dollars. I could’ve won, but the 300-point question I chose was about me, so I couldn’t answer. I wish we had buzzers instead of cards to raise. I most definitely could have won if we had buzzers.
Maybe we should just have Family Jeopardy be a family tradition. That was fun. I really enjoyed that.
I should mention that to somebody…
We debated on opening up one present. All but Gail were for it. In the end, we won. Majority rules, what can I say?
Gail was confused as to why mom sent Nate five presents and her only two. I think she was a bit more upset then she let on, but she just laughed it off.
I chose a present that had a half post-it saying “Sarah. From Nate”. It turned out to be from both Gail and Nate but I suppose one of them wanted to just put his name.
It was a boxed set of books. Last month I went to Maliprops with Gail and pointed out The Golden Compass. I’ve wanted to read the book ever since I heard the name back in 8th grade. Of course I’m not sure that I’ll like it, but it’s a shot.
I had no idea it was part of a series. I asked a girl to help me find a Redwall book and she said if I liked those, I would like books by Philip Pullman. She pointed out The Golden Compass. What I wanted to do, was get the book from the library or something and just check it out and if I liked it, go to a store and buy it, or just not get it again. I really hope I do like these books. If not, I will sell them, and Gail will be hurt. I bet Nate would as well. But I have books in the meantime to focus on.
Afterwards we listened to Tina’s iPod and danced, then I went back to my apartment and showered.
We had decided that breakfast would be at 9. That was a bit unusual for me, considering my usual wake up times. I had a hard time waking up but I was up and dressed very quickly. I got up to the house and was still yawning. (I had stayed up ‘til 2, just reading my book.)
As soon as I opened the door, I heard Christian Christmas music playing loudly on dad’s iPod. I think everyone knows how I feel about dad’s taste in music so I was going to get him to turn it off. “Dad…” I said in my usual tone when things like this happen. He didn’t even notice me, but I thought, “it’s Christmas, and it’s only once a year. Let him do what he wants.” Once I left it alone, it didn’t really bother me.
Tina’s new best friend, Zoey, joined us. She’s been a good friend for about six months. We all like her. We opened our stockings from dad. He got us all pretty much the same thing. We also made two more stockings for Nate and Zoey.
Tina and Zoey were in the kitchen most of the time, while we all opened gifts.
From dad’s stocking I got: Hand lotion that smells of cinnamon, a tin of breath mints, a green reusable shopping bag that stuffs into itself and becomes a keychain(Gail and I traded because she wanted green, and I wanted red.), a pair of Smartwool Hiking socks, two Chocolate covered Cherries, a candy cane, and I forgot what else.
Afterwards, we got out a trash bag and opened our gifts. That took about two hours.
I got a badass dragon puzzle from Judy. She knows me so well. It’s 1000 pieces and shaped. That’s gonna take about three months or so to complete. Judy also got me a Puzzle Stow & Go(“Roll up and transport your jigsaw puzzle in progress!”)
Dad got me a blue and yellow lava lamp. I never expected that. He also got me a OLYMPUS Stylus Tough-6000 Digital Camera. I screamed when I opened it. You see, I was wrapping presents about three days earlier over at the house, and dad gave me a camera box to wrap absentmindedly. Judy looked over and said, “I think you gave Sarah her present.” I was smiling but tried not to make a sound. Then dad looked over and answered her. “No, that’s for Gail.” My smile fell and I continued wrapping.
But I did end up getting one. Gail got one too, so I guess that was a smart trick from dad. This camera is freeze proof, water proof(to 10 feet) and shock proof and considering how my first camera died, I think that’s a good thing.
Gail wanted us to all open her present at the same time. We did and inside it was earrings. We traded them around til we got what we wanted, and Gail announced that we would wear them to her wedding. Nate proposed on the 21st or 22nd I believe and she’s already planning it. In my opinion the earrings are ugly. I would never wear them, but….it’s for her wedding, whenever that will be. Maybe I can pretend to loose them afterwards.
At some point, Zoey came over from the kitchen with a pad and asked how we wanted our eggs. We made our orders and got back to opening gifts as she and Tina continued in the kitchen.
Dad got us all scarves. Mine is the coolest I think. It makes me think of Oreos. Hehe.
Mom sent scarves in Tina and Gail’s box. One for each of us. Tina and I were the first ones to open that specific present. Tina chose hers and I chose mine. Then we passed the other two to Judy and Gail. They saw the one I chose and started fussing. But I say the rule with siblings is always first come, first served. Besides we all live in the same city for the time being. We can trade around the cool one. I should tell mom, so that she can know to send others like it next year. I don’t mind trading it around, as long as no one keeps it forever and ever.
I had decided to have a collection of scarves, and I suppose this is a good enough start for it.
Dad got us all a white shirt from J.Crew. It’s a beautiful shirt, a bit transparent, but…I love it. I tried it on and I love the neckline and the fit.
I also received a book I’ve been wanting from Gail. The Bridge To Terabithia. Mrs. Senaker, my 6th grade teacher, read it to the class…and about three years ago the movie was released. I’ve just wanted to know the real story…it seems like a sweet book. I didn’t even know Gail knew I wanted it.
The day Gail took me to Maliprops, I asked if they had Mariel of Redwall. A lady called another bookstore and asked them to hold it. They did and Gail bought it. I knew I was getting that book.
Zoey and Tina served us our food, and it was delicious. Zoey apologized for not having money to buy gifts, so this was her gift to all of us. I think they poached the eggs. I don’t think I’ve ever had poached eggs.
We called mom from my phone to wish her a Merry Christmas. She said she sent the box with Judy and I’s stockings and presents as well. They must have not gotten here yet. She used the post office instead of UPS…I guess she learned a lesson with that. We should be getting that box in the next couple days. She even paid extra to have it here on time.
I also saw a package from mom to Aunt Tori. I was confused because to my knowledge they didn’t get along. So I opened it, because maybe mom put the wrong name. Inside was a large, very nice, pink candle. With it was a letter…it had my name of it, witch perplexed me even more, so I opened and read the card. It turned out that mom was thanking Aunt Tori for taking me to France with her last month. I understood and put it all back in the bag and now I have it sitting in my bedroom to give to Aunt Tori whenever she returns.
I gave everyone a picture frame and Tina a 3D wine bottle puzzle as well as a lovely sleeveless long-ish top decorated with blue and red butterflies. To Gail, a picture frame, and lovely grey ¾ inch sleeve jacket with big buttons. To Judy a lovely pink picture frame and a $28 sweater from Minks.(our favorite store…it’s expensive. The sweater was originally $58 but I got it on sale.)
Now I chose Tina And Gail’s clothing out of Madison’s “To Go To Goodwill” pile. Madison moved out a while ago, and I took a bunch of clothes for myself before she took them to Goodwill. Tina loved her shirt(as far as I know). Gail liked the jacket until I told her where I got it. And that made me angry. But mom said it was just a first reaction, give her time and she’ll enjoy it. She just has a lot on her mind.
But still, …maybe I won’t give Gail anything this year. That was really mean of her. And yet she calls me unappreciative. Next time I get free presents, I just shouldn’t say anything. But she asked. If you don’t wanna hear what I have to say, then don’t ask me to talk. I told the truth, and she just didn’t like it after that.
Still…Gail knows better then that. It’s not fair to me at all.
I wanted to see how dad would react to my present. I got him coffee and a mug with the Star of David on it as a joke. I was hoping he’d laugh. It seems to me that he likes jokes and being a kid. I didn’t see him open it, but I asked him how he liked it and he held up the coffee bag and said he’d use it on the boat. I asked about the mug…and he gave it a wary look and said he’d use it. Then I specifically told him it was a joke and he was supposed to laugh. I really have no idea what he thought. His face is hard to read sometimes.
Dad also got us all candles. Mine is Balsam & Cedar. And he got me a very large and heavy book of Asheville to put on my coffee table. I guess he couldn’t think of anything else.
Can you believe we ended up filling two trash bags with wrapping paper? And we had two others of food and such.
Then I brought all my new things down to the apartment. Judy and I played with the camera to see how it worked. It does some really neat stuff. I wanted to start on my Fire Dragon puzzle right away. I put away the other puzzle(not a very cool one, and not very interesting either), cleaned off the table, spread out the puzzle mat, dumped out the puzzle and got to work. Judy went to take our recycling somewhere. She ended up having to drive 30 or so minutes to Brew-N-View to dump it with theirs.
Soon I got tired of looking at the puzzle, and read my book(I have less then a week to finish it!!). After a little bit. Judy came back and told me dad wanted to eat dinner with us.
I did a quick clean-up before he came. We had leftover pizza from Christmas Eve. He left and Judy and I worked on the puzzle a bit. Then Judy left. I read some, and got on the internet….read more when the internet cut off and began to write this entry and read some of the camera manual. Went to bed at around 2 AM.
I should’ve got a present for Ginny and Chris. I always forget someone! |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
