Wish it So


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Did you say it?

Did you tell him you didn’t miss him?

I.. Yes, I did.  But I meant.. I meant I didn’t miss our baggage.  Our problems.

I’m not going to go back all the way to the beginning.  To when we first re-entered each others lives.  To where we decided we were something. To when we struggled to be that something.  Because, we struggled every step of the way.

I’ll say this – we had moments where one tried and the other didn’t.  Moments where neither of us were trying.  We went to therapy and couldn’t agree whether or not we should stick that out or quit.  So we quit.  Because the will of one was always stronger than the will of the other.

I’ll also say that I loved him but it was hard.  It was hard for the both of us – the loving.

I wasn’t perfect but I understand that I was not alone in the destruction of an establishment that so many hold sacred.  I wasn’t alone in it but I felt so alone.

The first two lines you read today are pivotal to our whole ending – the breakdown.  I can’t and I won’t go back now but I will leave you until later –

 

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Wigged

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It’s so strange to feel anxious about something I’ve loved so dearly.

This place was so instrumental in getting me through some tough moments.

But when I start a post now, I can only think about how there may be people reading who may not like the content.

And it’s weird that I care. Because by nature, I’m not really a people pleaser and I try to march to the beat of my own drum.

I guess what I’m saying is, who else has experienced this and how does Stella iomay get her groove back?

You know, without the weird teenage-like feelings.


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For the last few weeks the items trending in my facebook feed have been awful.  I don’t know if there is that much more crime or if it the information is just more accessible due to social media.  I guess it doesn’t really matter.  The real point is that it’s terrifying.

Every day is a new worry.  Worries that my children will come to harm in a place that I thought was safe.   Fear that I can’t stop it.  I don’t know that I’ve had a good dream in years.  In my nightmares I’m always fighting very real evil and with all of the things going on in the world, I worry that my nightmares are really just a prepping stage for something that’s to come.

It’s crazy that the world we living in so closely resembles the stuff of nightmares.  I wonder, is it this way for everyone or is it just me?

On the flip side to all this awful stuff, I do see glimpses of good in the world too.  And in those instances it is easy for me to say, maybe there is bad in this world and maybe I can’t stop it but I can make a conscious effort to be a good person and raise good children.  Maybe we can all make an effort to be a little extra good to counteract the bad.

 


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Introverted doesn’t cover it

More and more lately, I get the feeling that people know very little about me.  Not so much once they’ve taken the time to know me or rather, I’ve let my guard down long enough to be known.

I know that I come off as someone who doesn’t care, who thinks they know better, who thinks they are better – the list goes on.  Interestingly enough, I care a lot.  Perhaps one of my biggest flaws is that I care SO much what someone might think that it paralyzes me.

Will they think I’m dumb?  Too good for everyone?  Not dressed well enough?  Not funny enough?  Not serious enough?  Not well read? again, the list goes on!

Social situations are really difficult for me.  I spend nearly 24 hours prior to all events trying to talk myself out of attending.  I make myself really sick and usually (not always) back out.  Why?  Because the idea of living in my little bubble seems way safer than going out and possibly making a fool out of myself.

At these types of outings I’m either totally stuck for what to say next or can’t stop talking because I’m afraid if I stop the other person will have time to judge me.  When truth be told, they were probably judging me all along.  Because ladies and gents, that’s how this brain rolls.

It’s surprising to me that I sometimes pass as a functional human being.  I’m basically afraid of my own shadow and I’m not sure how much stands between me and legitimate agoraphobia.

I’m grateful for my girls because I’m forced to be in situations that I wouldn’t otherwise allow myself to be apart of.  They’ve helped me learn so much about myself and allowed me to grow as they do.  I’m also grateful for my longtime pals who push me out of my comfort zone.  Maybe one day I’ll actually go somewhere and not feel completely out of my element!

My goal for 2014 should be to get out of my own head more.  And maybe to cry less.

I’ll try to remember that on New Years Eve when I’m crying because another year has gone by!


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You know which little store you are.

I’m in the mood for typing talking and being read heard.

You see, when I was driving to the College Library yesterday I passed by this little corner store that has always felt like it was standing in the middle of nowhere.

I won’t name names because I know you want to stalk me.

Don’t even pretend that you don’t!

Well, every time I pass by this store I think about an incident that occured there a little over a year before my mom passed away.

It was after she’d had her breast removed and after they found out that they weren’t going to be able to pursue the procedure since my mom was sick.

Sick with a cold and sick with cancer, again and still.

So, she was living life with one breast and pretending to be OKAY with it.

She did that a lot.

Pretended to be OKAY.

I think she taught me that.

I’m probably not as good at it since I cry for no apparent reason and a lot.

Well, this one particular day she caught a woman looking at her, not with empathy but with disgust.

You read that right, disgust.

I cannot believe it either.

I remember her telling me and me threatening to go over there and kicking ignorant ass.

But she said no, it’s okay, I handled it.

My mom’s way of handling it was saying “What are you looking at?” in her cute spanish accent but as tough as that woman could muster.

And man, when my mom mustered tough you had better be watching your behind!

Every time I drive by that little place ..I think of that woman.. and that day and how my mom didn’t deserve to feel anything but beautiful, wonderful, smart, funny and perfect.. a perfect mom.

The perfect mom for me.

So, I guess remember this story and tell it to your friends and maybe this will reach the ears or eyes of that person or a person just like them and they’ll realize that those judgements should be set aside.

Those looks or sideways glances they aren’t deserved.

At any given moment someone is going through something that you possibly cannot imagine…Remember that.


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First off, I’d like to apologize for not having better/more pictures for this.  If we’re being honest, which I imagine we are, I had not intended to blog about this.  At.  All.  I’ve been so “busy” with homework, playing with my EIGHTEEN MONTH OLD (What?!) and “working” (can you call 8-20 hrs a week work?) that I haven’t been thinking of this little blog of mine.

But today Carrigan went down for a nap (late) and I am here posting this random blog about this little food item I made on Tuesday.  Here’s the thing, I’m not good at recipes (as in, jotting them down or following them) so this is going to be a lot of recalling.

Honestly, I was stuck for what to cook while I was grocery shopping Tuesday afternoon and walked by boneless pork cut (center loin??) and I was hungry (as usual) so I said, alright well that looks yummy even in its raw-ness so this is happening.  Imagine me saying “I’m going to eat you!” to the pork.  I won’t say whether or not this actually happened.

Then came the hard part.. what to make that isn’t completely boring.  Well, I’ve already got small onions (they are the most adorable onions..), I have garlic (not as adorable) and well, I was going to buy pasta sauce anyway and while I’m at it.. why not some brown sugar?  Oh this sounds delicious said my tummy to my brain.

I wasn’t entirely sure how this was going to work until I got home and started “doing it”.  Are you rapping inside of your head, too?

Pork yummy-ness

  • Granulated Light Brown Sugar:  Coat a thin layer on both sides of pork with the light brown sugar
  • 6 small itty-bitty-cutie-patootie onions:  Cut three of them up and spread them over the pork and cut the other 3 in half and tuck them into the corners where the pork is touching (stop giggling)
  • 3 cloves of garlic:  Press them or “whatever” it’s called and spread them over the pork.  Please edit this as you please as I understand not everyone loves garlic like I do.  (I’d probably do less next time)
  • 1 jar of 26 oz.  Nature’s Promise Organic Traditional Pasta Sauce:  Spread half over the pork and the rest will kind of spread out on its own (do not use the whole jar.. it will get VERY saucy up in there and not the good kind!)
  •      I used the other half of the pasta sauce today in my pork roast – can’t wait to try it out!
  •      Personally I would stick to any kind of traditional pasta sauce so as not to compete with the other flavors but to each their   own, right?!
  • Once you’ve done all of that, I would put it in the oven at 425 and leave it in for 40 minutes (at least that is what I did but I know nothing about actual temps and what things cook at).

Because I had to wait 40 minutes and Carrigan really wanted to go outside and play you will be stuck with these two photos as well:

Alright, enough with those shenanigans!  Get to work!  Once the 40 minutes were up (I loosely timed this by the way), I grabbed the parmesan out of the fridge and spread it on top of the sauce which was covering the pork (in case you forgot what was in there)… I put it back in for about 10 minutes?  Again, recalling of loose timing.

Also, I should probably note that I covered the dish with tinfoil so it wouldn’t dry out and also so that the pasta wouldn’t splatter all over the oven.  This also kept the cheese from just burning in the end.

I’m hoping to be back this summer with more regular posts!  But it all depends on whether or not I take summer classes.

I miss you blog and imaginary blog friends!

Hasta Luego 🙂


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Boundaries – just for the average bear?

When I’m at home, alone with Carrigan, I pee with the door open.

Why?  

Because otherwise she stands next to the door and it causes oopsies.

Still why?

Because I like to make sure I can hear her too

You never know when a number two will sneak up on you

Then you’re left counting down the seconds

 Wondering what kind of crazy your 16-month old is getting into

TMI?  You betcha.

Well, today’s bathroom visit consisted of Carrigan following me to the bathroom

Where this one-sided conversation occurred

Carrigan enters bathroom and smiles at the sound of pee hitting the toilet water

“Carrigan, mommy is peeing in the toilet”

Nods her head yes as if she understands the statement

(Hey, maybe she does?!)

“Carrigan, you also pee but you pee in your diaper”

Note to self: maybe that’s too full of a sentence for her?

“You pee in diaper”

“Mommy doesn’t get to wear a diaper to pee in – she’s too big!”

“Someday you won’t pee in a diaper either – you’ll pee in a toilet almost like this one!”

Conversation over

I’m now left to wash my hands quick enough to stop her from taking all of the detergents and throwing them on the ground

(downstairs bathroom is also the laundry room)

*Don’t pretend you didn’t miss my über weird rants – besides, maybe Carrigan will be like totally into potty training and then, who’s the weirdo?  Yeah, still me.  But weirdo with a potty-trained 16-month old two year old*