Here it goes again!

Amazing. I get started and it's like a faucet. A spigot that was waiting to be turned on. Not all, or even a large percentage of what I'm writing is going here. But.. I'm writing. This makes me so happy! I think my sessions with the councilor are helping too. She's not 100% perfect for me, saying things I half expect, very text book, but she's helping me pull myself out of my head.

My next big step. A story. A full plot and sub plot, story. Even if it goes no where. I feel this need to start and finish a fictional piece. I CAN do this!!!

Want

I'll keep it brief. The word of the Week? WANT. Want, desire, covet. WANT. It's a noun, baby. If I believed in the Christian or Catholic belief set I'd be in confession because the WANT is strong. Not having. Not gonna get it, which makes the desire all the greater. So many pretty shining things out there that I want. So much brilliant beautiful.. things.

Kiss

I like to kiss.

I'm not an overly physically affectionate person. I like handshakes and brief hugs. I am not snuggle prone. My ideal moment does not involve eternities entwined. Nothing wrong with a good hug.But I like my space. All that aside, kisses are my favorite method of expression.

I blow my children kisses. I press dry lips agains foreheads to check for temperatures. I kiss a freckle on sweet upturned noses. I kiss bandages that have been put over boo-boos to make it all better.

And then there's the other set. A kiss in the air near a friends cheek. A kiss of palm and fingers for my beloved. Lips are for touching for cheeks, lips for lips. Firm kisses, soft kisses, deep and rough and sometimes with teeth kisses.

I apparently experience the world on some deep meaningful level through my lips. So kisses, kisses mark my love. more X less O

Enamored of the moment.

A much less worthy tired Attempt at the writing I plan to do a bit more of.

And there I go again. Tumbling into a smile. Falling into a moment. In love with the idea. The potential. The dream.

More then aware that the dream is just that. Imagined silk of skin is different then touch. The surreal want. The imagined chase. Don't go hot and cold on me now. That etherial moment is whisper thin, lighter then a butterfly kiss. Can't let it slip.

The moment is all I have. That quiet tip toe dreams and fantasy. If I analyze or obsess the moment will scatter, shatter, run away on cat feet. Want to tackle and tangle fleeting muse. Feet and hands and lips. Want to steal every ounce of sweetness to moments glimpse of a smile.

there it goes.

Here

I can't copy the picture. It's not mine. But Here's the fragment that I found to go with it.

A place to sleep. Somewhere warm and dry. Days had turned into weeks, weeks into months. The dust was everywhere. Dust of a life I fled. The streets aren't as cold and lonely as every one says they are. There's a strange camaraderie among the homeless. But at night, 3:00 in the morning, the witching hour, it gets cold. It gets scary. For a girl on her own. A girl who refuses to sell her body, to sell her soul just for a bite. But I'll sacrifice some dignity.

The car is a heap. Rust on wheels, Decorated with droppings and dirt. It's abandoned, one door permanently askew. And this is a bad part of town. This time of night there isn't really a GOOD part of town. I'll just climb inside. I wish I could will it to run. To take me away from hunger and cold. I wish I could will flat bald tires to turn, to ride the curving gleaming pavement into a world that welcomes me with open arms instead of walking past my outstretched hand. In a hurry, like they've got someplace better to go.
The seat is barely there, worn and scratchy against me. But it's dry. It's warm. And it's full of dreams. Like me, someone once loved this car. And tonight? I'll love it too.

on writing

I don't do it enough. I found a piece of muse today, thanks to someone on twitter. I wrote. It felt good to just put words together. To tell a fragment of a story. I like what I wrote. But it's incomplete. It's as disjointed as ever. I'm still proud of myself. It's not a whole BIG story but it's a very pretty piece. I can feel the sorrow wafting off it. I think I captured the moment. so. Perhaps from now on I'll go search for little muses. String them together like daisies on a chain. Maybe I don't need a big story to feel like I'm an "official" writer. Maybe I just need to write.

Budgeting

So, first session w/ councilor was.. interesting. She's nice. Enough said there.

As I have bigger rants. I can't keep a budget lately. My dental work is getting fucking expensive. Hundreds of dollars for stuff that goes under my teeth. Stuff my dental coverage- meager as it is, doesn't cover. If this shit is so necessary to my dental health why isn't it at least partially covered? Seriously. Thanks to the birthday this month and other things I'm not sure how I'm going to stay on budget. It's the day after payday and already half his earnings are gone. And he wants ink. He deserves to get this done. He deserves nice things. And I'm blowing our budget on my fucking stupid teeth. Have to pay off cards, we're more behind then we're ahead. HAve to pay bills, if I don't bad things could happen. And I'm wondering if it'll cost more or less in the long run to have my cell phone service stopped all together. How does one get out of a contract? I'm pretty sure the small print makes it stupid hard to get out of. I feel like a sucker for signing into a 2 year contract in the first place. Especially since I don't use it more then once maybe twice a month.

I'd get a job, but It'd be minimum wage and in this economy with the skill set I have and the high schoolers out looking at my same group of jobs, my chances and choices are the suck. Feeling more helpless then usual. Is it August yet?!?

I have to get my shit together. I need to figure this shit out. Maybe it's time to see what my skills with crochet are worth. I can hook like a fiend. And if there's even a little payout attached to that maybe it's time to see if it's worth it.

Shrunk

So after the drama the other day. Then the writing to bleed the emotion a bit I made some phone calls. It's time to work through some issues. I know I'm still a mess over my grandmothers funeral. I know I'm struggling with Ian being so far away.

I made an appointment with a councilor. We start next week on the 15th. Hopefully having someone to help me sift through the debris of my emotions will help me learn to regulate them.

Failure

I am and she is.

My kid is a failure. Her teachers gave her a D minuses. Which, is passing I am aware. But not really. Her reaction? "At least I passed" And not in relief, but in her new and exciting "entitled" voice. She's entitled to that (barely) passing grade. She "needs" her hair colored a new color every other week. She "needs" new this new that. I don't have the $$ to give her much of an allowance or buy her many of these things she "needs". I try, because self expression is important.

The girl is only 13, almost 14. I don't know if we'll survive her teenage years without one of us exploding. I hit her today. I slapped her across the face. And believe me when I say I feel dirty and guilty and wrong. My temper got out of control and she wouldn't stop. She wouldn't stop. I should know better. I'm the adult here. I'm the one who has to decide to stop the argument. I'm the one who has to choose to quit before things escalate into ugliness.

I'm not shocked that I feel so much about her. She's MY girl. Mine and mine alone. The only truly good thing that came from a very unhappy marriage is this child. The only thing that makes me proud and sad and strong is knowing (when she's good) that I am raising this amazing young lady.

And then we have days like this. Where I wonder if I'm raising a future criminal or prostitute. When she wears the type of clothing that I don't deem acceptable for leaving the house in (And I allow quite a bit of artistic clothing choices) and SHE throws a fit. 'Cause looking like a homeless person in 6 layers of clothing on a hot humid day, then sweating and smelling like a pig is, apparently EXACTLY what she wanted to do ..mooooom. And I' such a Bitch and soooo mean for "MAKING" her change. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuccccccckkkkkk my life.

And I'm scared. I'm scared that today she'll tell someone I hit her. And They'd take her away. They'd take the joy the light the happiness over one bad decision. Over one unthought through moment. Would I deserve it? Do I deserve to be a parent. A good percent of the time I have no fucking clue what I'm doing. And I'm going this mostly alone. I'm far away from my family, my husband is a million miles away. I don't know what I'm doing! But They're MINE. These children are mine. I love them like noone else does. And so it's back to reading up on how to control my temper around a temporarily insane person. Around a child who is transitioning into adult hood. Please don't let them come today. Give me another chance, I deserve it for no other reason then.. she's a teenager. And no parent (that I know of) gets through this completely intact and calm.

Update and nerves

Ok so in JULY we do the big social thing again, PLUS I'm meeting some people I deeply admire and am starting to like. My rules for myself in this next big social situation: Have caffeine before hand so the ADHD doesn't get out of hand. Avoid the alcohol so my flirting doesn't cross the line of friendly to creepy. I will NOT fall the the Great madam Puffs feet screaming "I'm not worthy!" (more then once..) I will NOT make lewd suggestions unless it's obvious to ALL parties involved that a: I'm joking and B: they started it. And really I should at least TRY to avoid this all together. I will bring goodies. I won't buy drinks for pretty young men. It's tempting more then three fates.

Yes some of this is stuff I SHOULD already know. Perhaps though writing it down will make it stick when I'm surrounded by happy excited people. Apparently happy folk? Being around them makes me into a spazz-tard.

5 hour energy drink

Ok I haven't tried this yet. I have my reasons. Apparently- these tiny little bottles entice me to get ranty and a little insane.

As your "average" housewife 5 hours of energy seems excessive. I don't need or really want 5 WHOLE hours of energy. Really 2 and half, or one hour of energy would be preferred. Sure 5 hours of energy is great if you're an office drone. Or a steel worker. A barista already has all the caffeine fueled energy she/he needs (ever notice how spazzy and excited they usually seem?)

But what housewife wants or nees five WHOLE hours of energy. What if I wanted a nap for crying out loud?

What if this product really gave me five solid hours of energy?!?! WHAT the fuck!? Now I have no excuse for my lazing about I'd HAVE to fold all the laundry and do ALL the dishes. I mean seriously? Do I want to invest in five whole hours of buzz just so I can clean? Screw that. I'd rather get a nice painkiller or vodka buzz and slowly meditatively fold the laundry. If I had FIVE hours of energy it's more likely I spend it shopping and neither my credit line or my husband would appreciate that.

Why so shy?

I'm trying to be social. This is difficult for me. Not that I suffer anxiety, though of course I'm nervous around people. Not that I don't know how to talk to people, in fact I can talk quite well.

Nope it's boiled down to something very simple. I have this ability to just SHOVE my foot right in my mouth. Hanging out with two folks from an online forum the other weekend.

I talked too much. I flirted. I tried very hard not to go overboard but they were both so new. I don't think I made a horrible impression. I KNOW I'm over thinking things. I would be pleased as punch to meet either one of these folks again. AND we're planning on putting MORE people together to meet again In July, then the great big Vape Fest in August. How lovely, right? So why am I still obsessing over saying this or that? Over acting like a flake?

Part of it has to do with the fact that I haven't been OUT in almost a year. Most of it hinges on something else. Something I'm not even sure I'm cool with talking about. Talking= admitting and I'd rather not.

As it is obsessing, obsessing is bad. I need to quit. I need to quit re-playing conversations and analyzing thins I said and did. Sure I'd change a few stray comments would that I could.

Gosh darnit. I was hoping confessing here would help. I was hoping it'd bleed the frustration out. But there's more to admit and I think I need to think on that too. Figure out why THAT is bugging me so damn much. That one little other thing.