WOW

I had to move, because of mice and men(crazy psycho woman). So I've been moving for the last two weeks. Move complete. Now I get to do it again--because I moved temporarily in with my parents--when I get a new apartment, hopefully in the next week or so. Called the lady today that I filled out an rental application with on Saturday, "hello, mrs. so and so this is Emily, I came to your house on Saturday to fill out an application to rent the apartment at such and such address, and I havn't heard back from you yet...." response: "oh, yes, I havn't done it yet, I'll have to call you back later." Jesus lady, don't you want to rent your GOD DAMN APARTMENT? FUCK! Relationship troubles are on the horizon forefront and background. Have had appointment after appointment. Not to mention the fact that I have a four week old, and a 20 month old on my hands. Lord have fricken MERCY! Every muscle in my body hurts from moving. My hands are raw from cleaning solution and soap--had to wash my hands every five minutes from all the mouse shit flying around. I am behind on homework and should be doing it right now, but needed to vent. Thank God for understanding Technical School teachers. Had some good news the other day. **Ring Ring** Me: "hello?" Receptionist "Hello Emily this is so and so from the veterans benefits office, the other so and so in the office and I were wondering why you havn't been using your benefits?" Me: "oh, well because I'm only part time, I've been part time since spring, I though I had to be full time to get my benefits" Receptionist: "oh, no. You can be half time, you don't have to be full time, you just won't get as much as a full time student." Me: "can you tell me how much I'd get? I need to weigh the fact that it will eat up some of my allotted time against how much I will get and see if there's a benefit" Receptionist "oh, well let me talk to the REAL so and so in the office and I'll get back to you" So there's an appointment made, I'm thinking "bitchin! In a time where I really need money I'm gonna get some! WOOT" WRONG. Get to the appointment. Turns out that even though I didn't recertify my benefits(meaning I didn't sign up for them, because I didn't want them, and if I DO want them I HAVE to sign up for them) the cashiers office sets aside "x" amount of money--in my case about $325--in ANTICIPATION for the military to pay for it. UMMM? So I was told that I could either pay the thousand some odd dollars or I could recertify myself retroactively for the last three semesters, but because I wasn't full time I would get jack. It would all go towards tuition and eat up my time. WATERFALL OF FUCKING TEARS. I was told "oh well its only a thousand some odd dollars, we will put you on a payment plan, cant you just pay it out of your next pell grant blah blah blah" Mother fucker if I had a thousand some odd dollars in my pocket to give you, I'd be smooth fucking sailing. I budget those grants accordingly on how to live. The point of me going to school now is so I DONT owe ANYONE money. What's fucked up is, that I always get like four grand back. But because this money was "set aside" my grants didn't pay for it on my account before they came to me because my account didn't show it owed. MOTHER FUCKERS. JESUS H CHRIST. Anywho, luckily I'm smart enough to remember that I dropped a class in spring and took it in summer, therefore I was actually full time in summer because it's an accelorated(quicker) semester than the rest. Had 7 credits, and only needed 6 to be full time. So retroactively recertified myself for that biznatch. Tuition is about the thousand some odd dollars, and book stipend will take care of the rest...PLUS I'll get the housing stipend= apprx $3000. AND it will eat up the smallest amount of time for me. TAKE THAT WESTERN TECHNICAL COLLEGE CASHIERS OFFICE. BOO YA! but it was uneccessary stress. Like everything else in my life I suppose. The boy, let me tell you, he's a piece of work. My therapist tells me today, wash your hands of him, if he loved you he'd be with you, crazy psycho bitch isn't the issue he is, he condones her behavior by not setting consequences for it. UMM. Maybe I should be a therapist? Because I'm pretty sure I have about 200 emails/chats/texts that say the same God Damn thing. Therapist "you are clearly capable of understanding this, and with some work, you can go far. You're already further than a lot of single mothers your age. You have a lot going for you, you will be happy alone." Lady- I really like you, I don't have to talk, and you know what I'm thinking. But I'm pretty sure that's why I'm sitting on your old couch, because I'm not happy alone. Never been happy alone, that's probably why I always draw the short stick with men. I sent all this stuff to him yesterday about how he's in an domestic abuse relationship. With the exception of the sexual aspect of it, their relationship fit the profile to the TEE. TO THE TEE. I actually laughed reading the stuff. Sad, that I laughed, but I had to. What the hell? I didn't know anything about this part of this guy's life and I fell in love with him. I know I'm a fixer, but damn, I didn't know I could be a fixer, when I was oblivious to anything that needed fixing. Therapist says I need to change the way I think. That the fact that I'm a fixer is the way I think, and I gotta change it to be happy. Not so sure I am really ready, willing, or able at this point in time to change the way I've been thinking my whole life. I kept saying "can't someone just punch him in the fucking face and make him see reality?" She kept saying "that's not your job." DUH or I would have done it already. It's so sick to me, that most people don't know what she does to him, or how she treats him. He won't admit it and he keeps going back to her. Typical abused and abuser relationship. I don't put up with BS. NEVER HAVE. Until now. This is the absolute most BS that I've ever dealt with in my life, and the longest time frame too. My therapist says to me "that can't be true, you must have put up with more BS from BD(baby daddy) #1 and #2, it takes longer than 5 months to have a child." Me: "we should probably schedule another appointment, because no, it doesn't" So I've decided I'm going to write a book. It is to be entitled "How I did It On My Own." It will be an autobiography. Filled with synical(and I hope some-what humerous) anecdotes. We'll see. Life's never easy I suppose. For anyone. I just want something less difficult for like a week or two. It's sad to me that I'm literally counting the days until I go back to work because I'm excited. Life's too choatic on the outside. Let me back in to my wiping asses, and cleaning up puke, pushing people to therapy, and ordering food for them. PLEASE. Oh yea, my manager calls me the other day and asks if I want to go from working 8 hour shifts to 12 hour shifts. HELL YES I DO. 3 more days off per pay period. My day is shot when I work an 8 anyway. You get a second wind anyway. Plus a pay raise. Plus another pay raise in february. Plus a bigger shift differencial. YIPPY ME. Enough ranting for now. Suppose I should at least look at the homework that's due at 10am tomorrow. YUCK. Thought I'd leave you with some pictures of my boys, including the one I am suppose to "wash my hands of" and not punch in the face. 

If I Could Keep Time In a Bottle

Time. Do any of us really know the value of it? If we can grasp the meaning, do we ever really hold on to it, and if we do, do we take full advantage of that wisdom? Time. It's the only thing we really have in this life. Time creates opportunities. Good and bad opportunities, its up to us which ones we throw away and which ones we venture. Time. It allows us to grow fellowship amongst ourselves, affect change, touch lives, and endure love. It also allows us to make mistakes. We measure time in seconds, minutes, hours, days, and years. We diminish what time gives us by these labels. We live for time, but in all the wrong ways. We all have to work, we all have to participate in school for a given amount of time. What do we do with the time that is not predesignated to our societal obligations? Do we cherish the seconds we have with the ones we love? Learn from the moments we spend with our enemies? Grow stronger from the days we feel weak? Do we dwell on the good hours, and move forward from the bad? It's impossible to live on the light side of these questions our whole lives.
Time. If time were measured in pain, the last few months of my life would have been the longest so far. I've had a broken toe, and gone through childbirth, but it doesn't compare to the pain of love. We don't enjoy love. We endure it. As I sit on my couch watching Hancock, a story of angels who turn mortal when they are together, and seperate several times over thousands of years in order to survive and protect the world despite their love, I am slightly reminded of my story. Many of you may know bits and pieces of this story, but no one, not even the other character knows the whole thing.
I lived for the longest time believing love could never truly find me. I took times opportunities and made mistakes. Mistakes that made me undeserving of love. I had my son, and I knew differently. I knew instantly love had found me, and that I deserved it.
Like most though, when I got what I needed. I decided that maybe I could have what I wanted too. I wanted a new approach, I wasn't going to hunt it, I would keep an eye out, but I wouldn't actively seek it.
What I wanted--he found me. I'd watched him for some time, and kept my distance, knowing his love was shared with another, but he found me. He kissed me and gave me love, and I accepted it, knowing it was someone else to accept. I was selfish, but what I had wanted found me, how could I not seize the opportunity time had given me? I soon felt guilty, offered to relinquish it all, without feelings of resentment. I offered the opportunity many times, knowing my gain was another's loss. He reassured me he had found what he wanted too. And time moved on.
The pain we caused another was too much for her. She fought hard, dirty, and won.
He returned to her arms to comfort her, keep her safe, sane. He left me, took away what I wanted. Ripped it from my hands. Took a piece of my heart with him. Holding that piece, he gives her love, compassion, and time. My heart is forced to watch it all. My heart sees her pain, but it goes much deeper than what he and I caused. Her pain causes his. My heart watches on, trying not to explode. It sends the images back to the rest of me that eat me away inside. Knowing I caused pain upon someone else, and that pain is causing my love pain, slowly kills me.
I'm promised his return over, and over, and over again without result. I'm dying, I can feel it. I spend so much time alone, I can share this with no one. My humiliation and shame create fear. No one can find out. No one can know what I did. No one can know what he's doing. What if I open up to someone and then he makes good on a promise. More humiliation. Explaining the time I spent in pain away because now I'm important again. For how long? How long before she needs comfort, safety, and sanity again? Will he save her again? Will he leave me alone again? Do I hold on, and for how long? How much time will it give me with him if I hold on? Is this worth the value of my time? Perhaps, I am not meant to love, and be given love.
I feel unworthy of his time, because most of it is spent with her. Yet I still long for time. Time with him. Time seems to be the only thing that brings me back to life a little. Until it's time for him to go back to her. Then I die. I can feel myself dying. I'm slipping away. He seems to know, a little time will bring me back, and uses it to his advantage. My love is so strong so deep for someone I wasn't looking for, someone who wasn't available to love, it's so inbedded in me that I'm willing to cause pain on myself just to have a little more.
The things he promises, the life he offers, to love my children, to have build and make true dreams together only deepens the pain. He tells me "what's one week, if I'm to spend my whole life with you." It's time love, it's time we can never get back. Every time he leaves, when my time is up, those promises, ideas are ripped away. I'm dying, I can feel my world caving in on me.
I realize I'm not dying. I'm losing love. It's slipping away. It's more painful than dying. I look at people who love one another, and burst into tears. No, I have to be strong. I can't show weakness. People can't know what I'm doing to myself. Time moves on whether I'm in pain or not. Emily, do not let people dwell on your pain, their time is much more valuable.
It's slipping away. Love is leaving me. I'm standing in a dimly lit road, I can see him in the distance. He isn't facing me. He's walking away. I'm screaming, pleading for him. My arms are reaching for him, but I can't move to him. I will do anything. He pauses, turns his head to the side. I know he can hear me. He keeps walking. Beyond him I see her. She's not screaming for him. She's not even looking at him! She doesn't see him. She's looking away, and he's still walking towards her. I've never been so weak. I've never avoided looking at myself in the mirror. I've been hurt before. Been able to look at myself and say I AM STRONG. I can't do it this time.
I'm ashamed to say anything. People know. People know I'm not myself. I'm not that strong woman I'm suppose to be. They see weakness. People who don't know me before this time know I'm weak. I've never had a problem hiding weakness. Even if I felt it before, I could disguise it as strength. I can't do it this time.
Is this a test to see if I deserve love? If I can make it through this, will it be worth it in the end? When will this be through? I'm told "it will be over before I know it." It feels like an eternity. I've been hurting myself for so long, can I hold on longer? Should I hold on longer?
I'm breaking. I AM dying. There's just a tiny bit of love left in me. Without love, we are dead. They are one in the same. I look at my kids, and for once, I don't feel love. The most shamful thing--I can't love my children. I have to feed them, change them, and make sure they sleep. I HAVE TO DO THAT. If there's any chance of loving them again, I have to meet their needs. If I'm not dying, I want to. What did they do? Why can't I love them? Why am I so weak!? Why have I allowed someone to do this to me? For love that doesn't exist?
He returns, and there's a bit of light, but its dimmer than ever. He leaves and it goes out. I'm in a dark place again. I'm screaming again. This time I'm not begging for him to return. I'm begging he doesn't. Pleading, please just give me peace. I need to heal, give me time to heal, you've taken enough. Please, just honor one wish, please. He doesn't. I'm cold. I feel empty. I'm dying and I know it. I just want an end, now I don't care what it is. Like a drug addict, needing a fix. I don't care what it is, or what it will do to me. I NEED it.
The opposite of love isn't anger, it is hate. The final stage of hate is indifference.
I think I'm there, and then he returns. He's holding a bag labeled "promises," and even though I know it's empty, I accept it when he offers it to me.
Hancock ends, for those of you who don't know, as I hope my story can end. You see, the reason God's paired angels need to be seperate, is because they become mortal, injurable, old, and die. They're drawn to one another, but make eachother weak. Hancock, and his paired angel reunite, and begin the process of becoming human. One of the ending scenes dipicts her telling him about his battle scars. How he's saved her so many times over thousands of years. How their love has always brought them back together, and always hurt them in the end. In order to save eachother they must be apart. She's shot, he feels it too. She's dying, and so is he. He looks at her, giving up his love for her, he knows he has to be apart for her to be strong again and survive. She's got her own life to live, and so does he. Their love is still real, still there, but being together is killing them both.
I can't explain why, but this is true of my love and his paired angel. By being together, even with love, they are killing eachother. Is it fair to make him know this? Do I just let him love and die? How can I watch my love die? Is there a way to make him see? See the value of time, he will--they will never get back? Fighting for his life is killing me.
I can feel myself dying. Now, I need to make a choice. Spend more time trying to save someone knowing saving them will take away love. Or save myself. Walk away, don't look back, and forge on alone. Who will lose love? It wasn't mine to accept in the first place, but it felt right. Selfish.
I'm faced with a decision I can't make.
Time. We never know how much we will get, and what it will offer us. All we can do is take advantage of the opportunities we see fit. Cherish time. Keep happy times in our hearts, learn from the bad times, but put them behind us. Spend time with our family, friends, children, and selves. Time is all we have. Quantity is the question. Make the best of your quantity.

Of Mice and Men

UGH! When I was in 8th grade I did a science project to see which rodent was smarter--really who could smell the cheese, or who was attracted to the cheese the best at the end of the maze--but I didn't know about unfair variables, and interference, double blinds or anything of the sort at that time. We used mice(which I bought for like 8 cents each) gerbels, and hamsters. I don't think our experiment had any conclusive results. Infact I distinctly remember the best part of that whole project was the fact that when we made our poster board we used contruction paper, and on the front of the package of paper there was a crane and bull dozer....you know because it was "construction" paper. I'm the only one who thinks that's funny, I know. I digress. I was left with these two mice--george and fred. I didn't know what the hell to do with these annoying, unfriendly, meant to be snake food, ugly little rodents. I had a cage for them, but apparently even though they couldn't perform for our experiment they got smart and figured a way to wiggle through the bars on the cage. I would wake up and they'd be chillin on my desk or dresser. They were also homosexual. Well at least I think so. I was told both were male, and they definately had something going on whenever the lights would go out. Eventually I ended up killing these rodents in one of the cruelest possible ways. They continued escaping their cage so I put them in an ice cream bucket and duct taped the hell outta it. I poked air holes in the top, but the little buggers would use those to chew large holes. So I reduct taped, no holes, and waited. When they died, I burned, I mean cremated them in our burn barrell. Getting to my over all point for this post. I currently have a mouse problem in my apartment. I have traps set every where it seems. With a 19 month old, and my general dislike for these beady eyed, ugly things, its hard to wrap my head around the situation. The first night I caught two on the same trap. I'm using those sticky traps, so they don't die right away--keep in mind, I've already caught like 8 with the kill traps, the ones that snap their necks. When they don't die they squeak, and LOUD! Very annoying. So I grabbed a pliers picked up the trap by the edge and dropped it into a double set of Wal-Mart bags. I then threw them outside in the cold. Don't know if they suffocated or froze to death, but I know one was already trying to eat the other when I did it. Last night (the second night) I caught another. With a trap I set on my kitchen counter. The only reason I did this was because the previous night I got up to make my newborn a bottle and caught a glimpse of one running across my stove top. I bagged this one too and threw him outside. I thought, maybe, just maybe, this was coming to and end. I mean a total of 11 mice? C'mon, that's a shit ton. Not to mention the 4 or 5 my neighbor has caught. So last night I got up to make another bottle, and sure as shit, one peaked its little head OUT of my stove top. They are living in my STOVE! Sick. Sick. Sick. Sick. This is so unbelievably unsanitary. Mouse droppings carry incredible amounts of disease. Not to mention mice can carry fleas(which is a huge fear of mine) and their dander can cause a lot of sickness. It's only been two days since my landlord set the sticky traps, and I've caught 3 mice and seen at least one other. I love my apartment, but I think it may be time to start looking else where. I hope my landlord would understand why the lease would need to be broken. I mean rodent infestation is an appropriate reason right? These things creep me out. But I can only help but think, it's karma coming back to bite me in the ass for killing those two in 8th grade. Oh, the consequences of our decisions. They always catch up.

Getting Started

Hello!

     This whole thing started because I'm a passion writer. When I'm passionate about something, I generally feel compelled to write about it. Lately I've been feeling passionately angry and hurt. So I've been writing and sending my message to the antagonist. They informed me, that despite my anger my writing is something to be read. It's been a dream of mine, for a long time actually, to write a book, but I never felt like I had anything to say worth anyone's time it would take to read it. I'm not sure what the format of this blog will be. Autobiography? Venting? Maybe answering questions of yours? Opinion? My guess would be a combination of sorts. I will tell you up front, that if you are a fan of grammar, and proper english, you may not want to read on. I'm full of comma splices, and when I get going I don't capatalize, use complete sentences, and use "text language." This first post will most likely be the best thought out post of them all. I hope to write at least every other day because I have a lot on my mind. I'm long winded and opinionate, but appreciate and encourage feedback and advice.

A little about me, incase you didn't know. I'm Emily(M-L-E). I'm a single mother of two wonderful boys JJ and Leland. Leland is the newest addition to my life at a wopping 10 days old. I love being a mom, but like most, there are days I struggle and miss the carefree life when all I had to worry about was if I had money to put gas in my car so I could get where I wanted to go. I live in my home town, and only lived away from it for about 10 months at one point in time. I love to sing, dance(when no one's looking), and craft. I drink A LOT of coca cola, and love microwave popcorn with added salt and melted butter. I work in the healthcare feild, and aspire to someday be a midwife, although lately my mind has contemplated actually going to med school and having a private practice. The more I work, the more opportunities I see to touch people's lives. I have a passion for children, particularily when they're born, but lately for reasons that needn't be explained, I've found myself drawn to people with chemical dependencies. Other things you should know about me include, that I'm an awful driver, I have the worst smelling feet in the world, I hate when the sheets and bedspread arn't on the bed straight, and I'm stronger than I appear in all senses. I look forward to sharing a bit of me with each of you as often as I can. I hope you enjoy what I have to say, and if you don't, I hope I inspire you to at least consider another view.