Be careful what you do, be careful what you say

Growing up I was always living in the shadow of my brother and for a very long time, I never really understood why that was. Nothing I did, in my parents eyes, was ever good enough. No matter how much time and effort I put into doing something, my brother was always better (even if he clearly put zero effort into something — for example, and this may be a silly example but one that I’ve carried around with me for a long time: my mother had 1st and 2nd place ribbons for the person who could brush their teeth the best, I guess in an attempt to get us to do better, I brushed my teeth for a solid five minutes and I remember trying really hard. But my brother really much ATE the toothpaste and didn’t even brush his teeth, guess who got first place. Yep).

Writing was always my thing. It was my escape, my therapy. My brother was always the artist and I won’t lie, he was a pretty damn good one (before he stopped for some reason) and I always envied that. But my parents never took the time to read my writing, even after my teachers raved and raved about it. My mom never took the time to even glance at it, to even lie that she had read it. Never. To this day, my mom still hasn’t ever read any of my writing (even though I’ve had teachers and friends rave to her about how great of a writer I am).

I remember when I made my first website (paint, HTML and GeoCities, holla!) and I showed my mom because I spent pretty much all week on it. Showed her the graphics I made, the cool pop-ups with the matching pink side scrollers and all she said was “you’re lying, you didn’t make that, you don’t even know how.” that was back in 2001, that was the last website I ever showed her.

When I went to culinary school, I would bring home the cakes that were my assignments and my parents would say the same things, that it wasn’t that great. That I’ll end up just failing at being a pastry chef.

But when my brother wants to go to massage therapy school they’re all *gloat gloat gloat* about it.

When I took up making jewelry, same thing. No matter what I try tomake for my mom, no matter how much effort I put into it, she just sets it aside and forgets about/loses it.

When I worked for Disney, same thing.

I’m pretty much convinced at this point of my life, no matter what I do, it’s never going to be good enough.

With that said, deep down, it doesn’t stop me from trying. My life is ruled by being better than my brother. With proving them wrong. Iwill be something amazing and I won’t thank them because there is nothing to thank. But even if I become something amazing, my mom would have too much pride to be happy for me. And that’s just sad really.

There’s a point to all this!

I’m the type of person who gives up before they try. I get excited about something, look into it, gather the materials and I’ll either try for a short amount of time or I won’t try at all. I have all sorts of intentions of doing this project, but I just can’t bring myself to do this project even if it’s something I know I’ll be good at.

It bothers my husband that I do this, he believes in me to no effen end. No matter how complicated or off the wall my new project will be. He’s there, holding my hand, looking up tutorials and videos with me, learning with me, helping me. And I can see why he gets frustrated when I quit.

But I can’t help it.

Even now, in my late 20′s (gawh I can’t believe I’m in my late 20′s already) all the things my parents have said while I was growing up still haunt me. I’m trying harder to push through it, but I think as long as I’m here, near them, I won’t be able to be push through as hard as I can because in the back of mind, they’re still there, putting me down.

Be careful to what you say to your children growing up. You might think they should know better, but they don’t and the things you say and do might still haunt them for years to come.

And I can’t grasp it…

Friendship betrayal is just a part of life, isn’t it?

Shouldn’t it be? I always firmly believed that people come into your life for a purpose and once that purpose is filled, they leave because the lesson they were sent to taught has been learned (who dictates this is beyond me). But what happens when someone you were best of best friends with betrays you? What lesson is to be learned there? To never let my walls down? To never trust someone? To be more guarded? I don’t know, I honestly can’t figure it out.

But at the same time… why should I feel betrayed? She’s free to befriend anyone she wants, isn’t she? He’s free to befriend anyone he wants, even if it’s her. I don’t play that you-can’t-be-her-friend-since-I-don’t-like-her game so I can’t expect him to drop her even if he asked me if I wanted him to. We’re all adults and we’re all free to make our own decisions. So why do I constantly fight this battle with myself over if I trust him or not just because he “likes” her status? It’s silly, really. Isn’t it?

As for her, I can’t grasp why every year she feels the need to do something insanely messed up then comes to me saying “I’m sorry”. You can only say I’m sorry so many times before I just don’t believe a word you say and you’re pretty much there. I don’t need this in my life. I don’t need to put up with this. I don’t need this poison.

I just wish I didn’t spend so much time thinking about it. I wish I could shut off all my emotions towards it. It’s fruitless anyway. Nothing but a waste of time and energy.

One day you’re standing in the middle of the room & you don’t know where you’re going

SPiNNiNG: Complicated by Nivea ♥

 

Sometimes it feels like life can spin completely out of control. Sometimes I look at my life and see stacks and stacks of experience of failure. Of things that could had been. And lately, I’ve been trying to push away the negativity, the self-doubt… but some days it’s harder than others.

Since the beginning of the year I haven’t had much thought as to what I wanted to do from here. I don’t have a big passionate goal I want to work towards. I have a few potential ones, but nothing as passionate as my last one.

I literally don’t know what I’m working towards anymore.

I’m a bit (I say a bit because I’m trying to block most negativity from my life for as long as I can manage everyday, which is pretty much until right before I go to sleep) unhappy with the way things are going right now. It’s impossible to find a job within 5 cities of where I live, school is getting more and more complicated and it’s starting to really wear me down, and there’s so much clutter in my life (and in my room) and I don’t know what to do with it. How to sort it or what to get rid of.

I always manage to pick myself up and figure things out, but I’m always scared of the day I don’t come up with a solution. And I’m so tired of failing myself.

Exes and ohh’s

The other night I was in a bit of a music throwback mood. I searched up “90′s R&B” on Spotify and stalked searched peoples playlists. Along the way, I ended up adding almost 10 songs by Ja Rule.

There was a time in my life when I was obsessed with Ja Rule. His songs always remind me of summer of 2001. His songs always remind me of you. There was something about that summer that felt more like spring, the air felt more fresh. I guess that’s what falling in love for the first time is like. You see things in a new perspective.

We would playfully argue over my KFC Chicken Pot Pie, we would drool over the “I’m Real” music video. Me for Ja Rule and you for J Lo’s ass. We spent the summer making our young long distance relationship work, only being able to see each other on the weekend and alternating between here and where you were, San Francisco. I was able to explore SF with you and your friends, see the things I would had never seen if I were with my parents. You tried to get me to play DDR and I would sit on the pad and watch you play instead. We were in love, we made love and we often got jealous, the way that people new to this whole relationships thing did. You would surprise me with my favorite drink — Cherry Pepsi when I came over to visit or my favorite candy — Cherry Heads. You gave me gifts on our mothaversaries.

We were horrible for each other.

You were a boy, and like all boys you wanted your freedom. You wanted your friends. You wanted to spend all day playing video games and not tied up on the phone with your girlfriend who was hundreds of miles away. You wanted to be free. And I was just a girl. I wanted my fairytale romance. I wanted my boyfriend to want to drop everything to see me, to talk to me. I wanted your attention. I wanted you. All the time. And I thought the things I said and the things I did were justified, when they weren’t.

You broke my heart, badly. And it took me a long time to heal. But you also taught me that sometimes, fairytale romances aren’t always easy. They’re not as simple as we see in the movies and that if you’re brave enough to give up your heart and fall in love, you should be brave enough to endure the pain when your heart is broken. Even though I was hurting and broken for a long time, I enjoyed my road to recovery. I learned a lot about myself, and about you. The real you.

So thank you. For the memories, the lessons and the heartache. It was fun. Except, not really.

Some do, some don’t

Once upon a time I was on a forum and I sent out emails to people in my area (keep in mind this was way before advance technology and you were able to safely assume that these people were legit). Two of those boys still talk to me; one is still a pretty close friend (also, can I note, this was 11 years ago) who is secretly but also not-so-secretly in love with me and the other was my best of best friend for a very long time and… an ex. But I’m fairly certain the breakup brought us closer, as if that was ever even possible.

Now the difference between the two?

The not-so-secretly in love with me friend still talks to me on a daily basis, things are still the same as they’ve always been between us but the ex? We had a bit of a falling out a few years back, just out of the blue.

I don’t know about you, but when a friend just drops me without warning, it kinda makes me wonder. Over the years I’ve asked what was it that changed. Over the years he’s told me many different reasons; “we’re growing up”, “distance”, “nothing”. A few mutual friends say it’s his girlfriend, she’s a bit of a jealous type and I guess I can pin it to that. But there’s something about him that’s changed. Recently, as in, within the last week or two I’ve been IMing him on AIM, trying to make small talk. But every time he sort of blows me off, doesn’t seem interested in conversation with me. And it just sucks. But friendship shouldn’t take this much effort. Just to make conversation?

And it got me thinking, isn’t it funny how you can meet two people in the exact same way, be close friends with them for years but the outcome can be different? I guess that’s just life, unpredictable.  And I hate myself sometimes for wondering why one is still around and not the other. Especially on the days when I’m so down and out that only the other can bring me back up. But at the same time, it’s been about 7 years since we’ve ever really been friends and I still feel like I need him in my life? That doesn’t sound right at all, does it? It just sucks that sometimes some people have a certain hold on you and no matter what you do, you can’t shake it off.

The most you can do is just wait it out and hope it fades. Soon.

This feeling is taking control of me…

SPiNNiNG: Just So You Know by Jesse McCartney

I like boys who look like they have a story to tell…

I remember tweeting that the very first time I saw you. You got on the bus and sat somewhere towards the middle. You had a gray hoodie on. I was curious to know where you were going at that hour. I wondered what your story was.

I saw you a few times after that, after work. It was always after work. You worked on the West Side, obviously. Had you worked at Marketplace I think I would have noticed. Every time I saw you, I wondered what your story was, it looked like you had a good one to tell.

It wasn’t until I was moved over to West Side that I figured out your name. I was there for almost a month before I had the pleasure of actually working with you. And you weren’t what I was expecting.

You weren’t from here, you were from a different country and you speak a language I am obsessed with learning. You have kind but troubled eyes.

Over the next few months, I got to know you a little better… and we ended up friends. Then they let you go, and my program ended. Up until a week or two ago, we still kept in touch and I don’t know, you didn’t add me to your new Facebook.

I still don’t know your story, but I’m still willing to hear it. If you’re willing to tell it. I hope you know I would never judge you, just listen, because it seems like you really need that in your life. Now more than ever.

I will never forget the first time I saw you, or you.

24HR SOPA BLACKOUT

Have you been following about the SOPA act? I haven’t really had time to post about it here, but WordPress News sums it up pretty well. I’ve posted about 6 links/posts about SOPA on my personal Facebook page and no one really responded (but I post a picture of a freakin cake and I get 3 likes and 5 comments? Really? Thanks 300+ friends…), some still don’t know what SOPA is! How can you be on the internet everyday and not know what SOPA is?!

Here at Hello, Marie I’m participating in the 24hr SOPA blackout. This is something I feel strongly about. Are you going to join us?

Misdirected

My dad starts chemo today. He told me two days before my brother’s accident that he has a type of cancer that has to do with his bone marrow, anemia and his bladder. I, myself have anemia and to think there’s a cancer for it is frightening, so I assumed it was just one of those things he just says to make things sound so much worse. But it’s not. The term for it is Multiple Myeloma.

I saw my dad sitting in the dining room earlier, just staring into nothing. It’s always depressing to see someone do that, clearly something is bothering them. But I’ve never seen my dad distressed or worried about anything before. Since he’s told me about the cancer, he’s been doing what he normally does, as if he doesn’t have cancer. I don’t know if it’s just a front to prevent my mom from asking questions or if it’s just a way for him to feel like nothing’s wrong.

Hello, 2012

It blows my mind to think it’s already 2012! That ten years ago it was 2002. The best and worst year of my high school life. I can’t believe ten years has passed. It’s just insane to think about.

I accomplished a lot in 2011. I traveled the world — at Epcot, Pinocchio blew me kisses and made all the kids jealous, I lived at Disney World (literally), I made magic as a Cast Member for guests every single day, my paychecks were signed by Mickey Mouse, I spent hours slicing those caramel apples that I grew up to love for other people who also grew up loving them. I made friends from all over the entire world and we’re not so different. I accomplished more in 2011 than I ever dreamed I could and I had the time of my life.

So when I look ahead to 2012, I can’t imagine what’s left to accomplish. And it’s sort of like the conversation Flynn and Rapunzel had in Tangled:

Rapunzel: But what if it’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of? What then?
Flynn: Then you find a new dream.

I’m stuck, because I can’t seem to find a new dream. I know there are things I want to work on and improve, things I want to learn and things I want back but there’s no big huge goal left in sight for me. And I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. But I do know I am excited for all the things that 2012 will bring, bad or good.

I hope 2012 will be good to all of you as well (:

When home doesn’t feel like home…

I guess I had always known that home wasn’t really home. At least it never really felt like a real home. In a home I assume you feel safe, warmth, like that place that you can always go to that will always be there to comfort you. To welcome you after a long hard day at work, or that place where you retreat to when you want to hide from the world. Yeah, home was never really like that. It was always just a place to stay, where I stored my things. And in a sense, that makes me sad. I know how hard my parents worked to create a home, but I think they had their priorities a little twisted at the time. While they did manage to buy a nice big house, we hardly felt like a family, and it wasn’t the home that I’m sure they had hoped it would be.

When I moved to Florida for my internship, I was thrown into this new place. With all these people who were in the same situation as me and I experienced living on my own for the first time. I was scared when I got there, nervous that I wouldn’t be able to do this on my own and I craved for home. But as the months went on, and as my husband and I started moving completely into our tiny apartment, it started to feel like home. It was a place where I would lounge around on my days off and somewhere I would retreat to. Walking through the door after work always felt like warmth wrapped around me, welcoming me to kick off my shoes and relax. It was something like I’ve never really felt before.

And now that my internship has ended and I’m back home, I can’t help but crave home again. Somewhere that’s mine. Somewhere that covers me in warmth and invites me to relax. I hate that I took too much time off from school and now I’m stuck here, at home having to make up for it. But as soon as I can, I’m going to get on a plane and go home. Where I really belong.