One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

So today, I found out that my mother's sympathy for my father's death comes with a shelf life. When someone dies, you hear the horror stories about internal fights between family members over life insurance policies, beneficiaries, estates, and all that stuff that I knew nothing about until now (yeah, I'm an expert, ask me anything), but today, my mother decided to intrude and if you don't know my mother, well, she fights dirty. The only understanding that came out of today's events is I that found out that the reason my mother held a 17-year grudge against my father was because she feels like the divorce was his fault and that he took away her chance of having a perfect family. So basically, she is still suffering from a bad heartbreak, and unfortunately, I was the one that got to feel a majority of that wrath over the years. Awesome.

So yeah, our fight lasted approximately 2 hours, went about 17 years back, and we dug a hole way too deep for either of us to crawl out of anytime soon. I could sit and here and write a novel about every comment that she made today, but there's no point. The fact is that my mother is a selfish person, and given the opportunity, you have to throw your cards before they spoil. That's who she is, and today, I realized that I have to accept it. She's the only mother I'm ever going to have, and while we are very incompatible, I have to fight for her. Losing a parent has brought on a newfound appreciation for the one I have left, and even though we will probably continue to fight the most painful battles ever, I love her regardless. I just wish I could make her see that.

The thing I don't understand is why people have to be so negative. I mean, if we always got what we wanted and if circumstances were always in our favor, then we would all be bratty little weaklings without any appreciation for anything. Fortunately, we don't live in an ideal world, and the trials and tribulations we encounter shape our character and help us grow in our wisdom and strength until we blossom into beautiful, amazing people. Each flower in the garden is different, I don't deny that, but why must there always be a weed in the midst of it all? Maybe I've had lots of practice dealing with adversity, thus making it easier for me to exude optimism, but I just get so frustrated because I wish I could make people see how each obstacle we overcome nourishes our character and waters our soul with great truths that allow us to continue to shine in the eyes of God. Everything happens for a reason, as profound as that sounds, but instead of taking on a proactive attitude, we sit around and feel sorry for ourselves and bitch and complain and create an unpleasant aura that makes it uncomfortable for others to be around. I dunno, it just seems like we could be transferring all that negative energy into something more positive. Something good is bound to come from any situation, and I'm a firm believer in that. And at this point, I think that I can find that belief within my heart, then anybody can. Period.

I used to wonder what things would be like if we could go back in time and change a couple of things, but then when my daddy died, I realized that wishful thinking was only a way to ponder against what God had planned, and being that He is the genius behind the plot of our lives, there's no point in convincing ourselves that we truly know what would have worked out best for us. We are all too selfish to realize that maybe what we wanted could have been more painful in the end, and really, what God did for us ultimately prepared us for the obstacles that only He knew we would have to face. For example, I found out that mom is still suffering from heartache from my dad, right? But had things worked out the way she wanted them to, then right now, she would be the widow dealing with life insurance policies while rotting in the horrible state of Louisiana not knowing what to do for herself like my stepmother is. Instead, she's in bed right now with my stepdad who she absolutely loves and adores, yet she's so caught up in the past that she can't be truly happy with him. Why put all those emotions in the past when she could invest them in the very successful relationship she's involved in right now? The butterfly effect is such an awesome concept, but I wouldn't go back in time and change a thing. What if my parents had stayed together? Sure, it sucked because it took me away from my dad and I had to say many painful goodbyes to him, but that would have made his death so much more harder for me. Missing him from my daily life and not having practice would probably make me very bitter, but God prepared me to be stronger than that. There's so much wisdom and perspective to be gained from this situation. Now, I can accept that God has a reason for everything, and more than ever, I can trust Him. He knows what He's doing, that's for damn sure. It might have taken multiple dramatic heartbreaks for me to realize this, but coming to terms with this concept is allowing Him to guide me in whicever direction He thinks is best without the routine interrogation I'm used to employing. I don't ask questions I'm not going to get the answers to anymore, I'm just going to trust Him. Sure, He might have let me down a couple times, but He has never betrayed me, and knowing that makes it easier to accept the good with the bad no matter what. I just wish I knew how to portray that optimism to others and allow them to thrive off of everything that I have learned. For now, I can only pray that everyone finds contentment in the endeavors they choose to follow and will never close God out of their hearts because that's when they will find the bitter darkness that plagues so many people, and it's so sad to see. Trust me. If you want to see it, you should live with my mother for a week.....it's not a pretty sight, but hopefully the love I continue to show her will break her open. I guess we'll just have to see though.

So yeah, today was bad, and I cried pretty damn hard (have I mentioned that I am so entirely sick of crying? Pretty sure that once I get through this, I am never, ever going to cry again!) One step forward, two steps back right? I'll get there....that's what time is for. I just hope that everybody else's sympathy and understanding doesn't come with a shelf life because I don't think I can deal with another episode like today's. I'll just pray that it doesn't happen again.

Take care kids, and remember, if you need anything, I'm always here for you guys. I love you all!

"Rain now just means more flowers later..."

more thoughts....

One of my roommates came up to me the other day and made a comment about how backwards it seemed that my daddy passed away and I was the one that gave her a card. My roommates and best friends called me everyday when I was in Louisiana to make sure I was ok and to listen to me as I tried to get my thoughts together, and I thought their actions were worthy of my gratitude. I also sent out cards to some other people last week just to let them know how awesome I think they are. Truth is, in times like this, your appreciation for people is restored because you realize how precious they make your life and you're reminded of the goodness they are capable of exuding. Throughout this entire fiasco, people have stepped up and have done some amazing things. We got so many things from prayers to hugs to donations to flowers.....people told stories, sent cards, made food, fed our dogs, and even bought toilet paper for us (yeah, that person was definitely thinking!) All the little things added up, and I wish that I could express my sincere gratitude to every one of you who acknowledged my daddy's death because knowing that you cared, even if it was only for a mere second, made all the difference. I went through 2 books of stamps, and, believe me, it still wasn't enough. So, please, I hope you all know how much I love you guys and thank you for everything. You guys are great!

So how am I? I'm ok. Of course, I miss my Daddy, but I've spent the last 14 years missing him. The pain is nothing new, but the notion of knowing I'll never get to see him again is still very hard to accept and, at times, unbelievable. The past two weeks are still a little fuzzy, almost like a bad dream. I'm sure his absence will really hit home during the holidays, at graduation, on birthdays, and then later at my wedding (should that ever happen) and when I have kids. Daddy took us to the movies a long time ago to see "Armageddon" and I'm not a big crier (at least not until the past two weeks), but I balled during that movie. I distinctly remember the line that broke the floodgates, and that was when Grace was saying goodbye to her Daddy because he had to stay on the meteor to detonate the bomb, and he said, "I'm sorry I won't be there to walk you down the aisle..." I thought that was the saddest thing ever, and you better believe that it absolutely breaks my heart. We went through a bazillion boxes of pictures before the funeral, and seeing pictures of my sister's wedding was really hard. My brother, of course, has already offered be there which I'm very thankful for, but it's not the same. It just reminds me of all the memories we won't get to share. But I know that he's with me, and somehow, that's comforting. I still talk to him. I even had a yelling session with him one night last week, and while it helped, I still wish he would have been here to yell back. There have been a lot of little things that have happened that remind me that he's with me. For example, I burned this CD a long time ago with a lot of random songs on it including "Angel" by Sarah McLachlan, and ever since I burned it, the CD always starts skipping in the middle of that song. On the drive home from Louisiana, however, the song played all the way through. Weird, huh? I thought it was really cool. Thanks for the reminder Dad. :)

My family is doing ok although my brother and stepmom absolutely break my heart. Dean took over the payments of Daddy's truck and took it back with him to Chicago. He hasn't moved the seat, adjusted the mirrors, or changed the radio station. He says he's even going to leave the "Georgia Dad" sticker on the back windshield. The good news, however, is that he's finally started grieving. He was so strong for us, mostly me, while we were in Louisiana. I tried to get him to cry with me, but he's stubborn like that (I know, the pot's calling the kettle black, huh? Guess we get it honestly....). And Lynne....all we can do is pray. I mean, how would you get over something like this? Yeah, he was my Dad, but he was her whole world. I dunno....time is all we can ask for. Please keep them in your prayers.

I went to church this morning, and while I'm sure this is shocking, get used to it cause I hope to be there every Sunday. We went to a contemporary service and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I felt so close to Daddy. Worshipping God is something he loved to do, so it's something I hope to embrace. My Dad was full of good character, appreciation, and love....all things that allowed him to enjoy life to the absolute fullest. I need that because I need him to continue to walk with me and be proud. So if anyone wants to go to church with me, please let me know...I would love to share the experience with you.

Well, that's all I have for now. I'm sure that a lot of my reflections seem a little redundant, but this grief is still very fresh and I have to get through it somehow, so bear with me. And while I know that a lot of you don't understand my pain, please don't hesitate to share your thoughts. Also, I wanted to give a little shout out to those of you who find my blog entertaining...I found out that my entries have alleviated boredom at work and what not, so I just wanted to thank you guys for expressing your appreciation...it makes me feel good.... :)

Until next time....

"Cherish the little things in life because they are the keys that open doors to moments that last forever...."
-R. Gray

Russell M. Gray (1952-2005)

My oldest brother asked me at my father's viewing on Wednesday night if I needed a few minutes alone to say goodbye to Daddy. My answer to him was "no" because I didn't feel like yelling at him. After continuous crying for the past week and a half, I realize that if I don't get my anger out, I'm going to be bitter for a very long time. I haven't been able to sit down and think about how my father's passing is really going to affect me because I've been so emotionally wound up that I can't think straight. Now that the dust is settling, it's time to pray. I know I probably should have started praying June 12, but there was an endless marquee of thoughts rolling through my head and they were so unorganized that that I couldn't figure out what to pray about. Where do you start? You need God so much at times like this that it's hard to know exactly what to ask for. So I just cried and let the people that love and care about me pray that Jesus would wrap His arms around me and get me through it. The battle is not over, but time will help mend my wounds and provide me with a new path to walk down. A person's convictions become so much more poignant when they are no longer here. My father's words to me during our last conversation have been echoing in my head for days. Daddy told me that my intelligence coupled with my common sense made me special and that the obstacles that keep coming my way are only making me stronger because I have the capacity to absorb all that the Lord has to show me, but he warned me that I should refrain from becoming overzealous and strive to show more compassion to the people that I encounter because only then will I be able to effectively spread the great truths I discover through my experiences. Of course he's biased in believing in me so much, but he's right...with my attention span running on a short circuit, it's hard to be patient with people, but only when I learn to do so will I be able to touch their hearts. Daddy has left me with a great challenge, and I would be dumb not to walk in this direction in which I have been lead. If I don't do it for anyone else, I have to do it for Daddy. After all, he was my hero.

But I'm still too mad to think about what happens next. I have the inspiration and tools I need to get where I intend to go, but I have to discard these unruly emotions before I take those first steps. The grieving process takes a lot of time and patience, and I still feel very betrayed by Daddy for leaving us. It's not his fault of course because fighting against the Lord's will is a battle you simply cannot win. But it really sucks that he's not coming back. We'll never share another embrace, we've taken the last fishing trip, he'll never be able to make me Mickey Mouse shaped pancakes (complete with the secret ingredient)......... He doesn't get to see me graduate from college or med school, he won't be there to walk me down the aisle, and my kids will only know their grandfather by the legacy he left behind. It's so unfair. My parents' divorce already stripped us of precious time, and now we won't even have the opportunity to get it back. It just doesn't add up, but there's no point in asking questions I'm not going to get the answers to. I just have to trust God 110% on this one and hope that Daddy is up there pulling some strings for me. And I know that he is in a happier place, but that doesn't make it easier to accept the fact that he's gone. I don't get to be Daddy's Baby Girl anymore, and that sucks worse than you can EVER imagine.

I saw my daddy two weeks before he passed at my brother's graduation. The last time I saw him was very monumental and will be something I always remember. That was probably one of the best conversations we've ever had. Sometimes, the surplus of miles and lack of effort made it hard to form a relationship, and while there were times that I would question whether or not Daddy really knew me, Daddy knew my heart. He understood my pain and my feelings simply because his emotions are the same as mine. It's an unspoken understanding that we share. It's comforting to know that I have my dad's heart because my dad touched a lot of people. If I could touch only half the people my daddy touched, the world would be a helluva lot better. Daddy believed in people and their natural goodness which is something I am going to strive to do. My daddy's heart was so big that there was enough love to go around for everybody. It makes it kind of ironic that his heart is what killed him. It's like God knew that my daddy had accomplished everything that He intended for him to do, but dammit, I wish it would have taken him 100 years instead of only 52. But what can you do? With things like this being thrown at you so suddenly, you have no choice but to accept it. My daddy's favorite poem was "Footprints" and I just pray that the Lord will carry me. There is nothing that can prepare anybody for this kind of pain. I've had to say goodbye to my daddy so many times throughout the years, and it always sucked, and here we are at the grand finale of it all, and I'm no stronger this time than I was the first. But in spite of it all, I know my daddy lived a fulfilling life, and I can rest easier knowing that he was happy. I just pray that somehow, he'll shine his happiness down on me so that I can get through this pain and find peace in his absence by remembering that he's in my heart. It's not gonna be easy because I loved him so damn much, but I have to do it for him. I just need time, but we're all Gray's....we'll get through this cause that's what we do. I just hope we get through it soon.

I wanted to say that I really appreciate everybody's concern and sympathy throughout all of this. I needed your compassion more than ever, and I don't think anybody failed to express how much they care. Thanks guys, it really speaks volumes.

Take care everyone....I love you all so much....'night....

"One night a man had a dream. He dreamed he was walking along the beach with the Lord. Across the sky flashed scenes from his life. For each scene, he noticed two sets of footprints in the sand: one belonging to him, and the other to the Lord. When the last scene of his life flashed before him, he looked back at the footprints in the sand. Hen oticed that many times along the path of his life there was only one set of footprints. He also noticed that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times in his life. This really bothered him and he questioned the Lord about it. "Lord, You said tha tonce I decided to follow you, You'd walk with me all the way. But I have noticed that during the most troublesome times in my life, there is only one set of footprints. I don't understand why when I needed you most you would leave me." The Lord replied,"My son, My precious child, I love you and I would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I Carried You."

Run, Forrest, Run

Pretty sure that someone who was AA-bound would not be sitting at home on a Saturday night doing laundry and watching reruns of "Friends". Matt Suber has volunteered to verify this fact for those of you interested....thanks Matt, haha!

For those of you wondering what came out of mine and Emily's confrontation the other night, I'm relieved to report that it just kind of dissipated which is good cause I really hate when stuff like that lingers. Basically, Emily was having one of those nights where she wanted to get crazy but everybody else was really mellow and just there to chill. Her psychobabble was nothing but an overzealous attempt to spark my energy, but it came across as being more obnoxious than encouraging so after I shoved her out of my face, the night ended right then and there. When you're throwing out judgemental cards like that, you can't invade someone's space the way she did, and let's just say that I'm really glad that I held my temper cause she got that "Gray" adrenaline rushing through me. Once I settled down, wrote in my blog, and quit shaking, I initiated the round of apologies, and that was it. So everything's cool at least until Emily decides to use another one of her "alcoholic" cards on me. She's got two strikes against her so if she's smart, she'll shut the hell up because I've heard just about enough.

Now that I've made myself out to be a huge bitch with a temper (what can I say? I've never been scared to stick up for myself thanks to having three brothers who conditioned me to be that way), I'll move on to more positive things. I finally joined the rest of the world and got a mini iPod (blue with my name engraved on the back....it's so cool!) I got it because Nicki and I have been training for the Peachtree Roadrace. I have an AM/FM radio, but I'm so ADD that once the commercials come on, I get bored. So, now I can listen to all of my motivational songs that keep my adrenaline levels high so that I don't focus on the pain in my legs. It's really cool (in spite of what Kit says) and I can use it in my car too which is nice. I don't know why, but I'm really excited about it and would recommend it to anyone.

So like I said, we've been doing a lot of training lately, and I've been so extremely proud of myself. I decided to participate in the Peachtree Roadrace because Nicki does it every year and her dad is a member of the Atlanta Track Club so he was able to get me a number. Since coming to college, my biggest accomplishments have revolved around stupid things like getting football tickets really cheap for all my friends who want to come and watch the Dawgs play, being able to claim our tailgate spot every time, making time to workout at least 3 times a week, learning to cook, and surviving each semester. Nothing worth recieving public attention, but in my defense, I was an overachiever in high school so college has been very chill and with as crazy as my schedule gets, there's no way I could fit anything else in. But this summer, I'm only taking one class which only lasts 4 weeks so I don't have to worry about too much homework and studying, so I decided that I should do something that would give me a sense of accomplishment. I've always hated running although when I run, it really tones me up and slims me down, but even that hasn't always been motivation enough to get my ass out there. I watched Nicki train for Peachtree last year, and I thought she was crazy for running a 10k in the million-degree weather on the 4th of July, but at the same time I thought that was really cool and was envious of her ability to complete such a feat. When I expressed my interest about running Peachtree with her this year, I really thought I was just kidding myself and that there would be no way in hell that I could do it, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to try. This was going to be the last summer I could do it since there's no telling where I'm going to be and what kind of plans I'll have after December, so it was pretty much now or never. She was very encouraging and excited about the idea of having a running partner, so I gave her the nod and committed to training with her.

Well things were going pretty good at first and we were on schedule, but we got slowed down a little when I came home from my brother's graduation and Nicki got caught up with Maymester presentations and finals. My emotions were exhausting me when I got back due to family drama, so I was less than motivated to go running but managed to drag my lazy ass out of bed last Sunday to run on the treadmill. At this point, we had been running like 2.5 miles and it was taking around 25:00 minutes (yeah, we're slow, but we're more focused on quantity of miles, not the quality of each mile.) Well, I get on the treadmill and after the first mile, my legs had gone completely numb. I figured that this was due to my laziness, so I gave it another try the next day and got the same result. Talk about frustrated! This had never happened before. On top of the numbness in my legs, my arthritis-stricken knees were killing me to the point where I couldn't walk, much less run. So I got online and did some research on the ACSM (American College of Sports Medicine) website and found this type of shin-splint known as compartment syndrome which occurs when the surface area of the fascia around the muscles does not expand at the same rate as the muscle hypertrophies thus restricting the flow of blood and oxygen to your muscles. I didn't want to be too dramatic about what I thought I had, so I decided to make further inquiries with the physical therapist I've been shadowing at ARMC and she confirmed my finding although she said that I would probably have to go to an orthopedic doctor to have it formally diagnosed. I was devastated, especially since the only remedy was surgery.....my goal was becoming unattainable due to injury and not my own laziness. To me, that was worse cause I can usually muster up motivation to do things, but I hate when there's a physical barrier that prevents me from doing what I want to do. I'm rebellious like that I guess. Well, in the midst of all of this numbness, Nicki continued training and was up to 4 miles. I thought I was done, but the stubbornness in me kicked in, and I gave it one more shot. I went running down Milledge last Tuesday, went for as long as I could go, my right leg went numb a mile into it but I managed to keep running for 4 miles. At least the numbness meant there was no pain, right? I was thrilled, but still very scared that I still wouldn't be able to do it again. The real test came when Nicki and I went running the next day in which the numbness had gotten a little better, but also, I was able to keep up with her as we ran 4.5 miles. We went running again Friday night and went 5 miles, and the numbness was gone. I don't know what it was, but I'm so proud of myself for pushing through it. Nicki said that she hasn't been up to 5 miles in her training 3 weeks before the Peachtree since high school. That was exciting news too because I know that we'll be able to do it. On top of that, my knees feel a million times better, so maybe my body decided to quit arguing with me and just conform to what I wanted to do. Either way, I'm so proud of myself because I've never done anything like this before, and even though Peachtree isn't here yet, there's such a fulfilling sense of accomplishment in what I've done so far. And it's pretty damn awesome.

So, yeah, sorry to write about book about my running experiences, but it was just something I wanted to share with you kids. Don't worry, I actually have some blog ideas in my head so there should be some pretty interesting ones coming. In the mean time, take care.........

Drink, drank, drunk....

This late night of bloggin' finds me in a very sour mood and I have as of yet to quit shaking from being so pissed off. Gotta love going to bed in that condition.

So, tonight, we celebrated Melissa's bday. We started out having a nice night....added a little sophistication with some wine and cheese, made a nice dinner, and enjoyed each other's companionship until we got ready to go out. We then hit up the Winery which is one of the most pretentious places downtown. While having to be 21 to get in, I still didn't feel like I was old enough to be there, but we still had a good time which was accompanied by a couple of glasses of sangria. At this point, we had left the guys (and Nicki) playing shuffleboard at Boar's Head, and, thinking we were going to go to the strip club (which was not my idea, nor one that I favored being that I had class the next day and was extremely exhausted), we decided to go back and get the guys. After a huge debate, we voted against it and let Melissa decide our next destination in which she opted to chill out at Molly O'Shea's. We stayed there for a good while and had a good time, but I had decided that I didn't feel like drinking anymore. GASP! Apparently, this is extremely shocking news. A couple of the guys offered to buy me beers but I turned them down. One of them told me that I had to drink because I was his drinking partner, and when I asked him why I was his drinking partner, he said "well, you're always crazy drunk most the time." Wow......thanks for making me your partner, Dan. We should really hang out more often since the couple of times I ever do see you, drinking is involved thus making you think I stay intoxicated. I didn't realize how infathomable it was to see me without beer in my hand. At least three people commented on it last night. The kicker came at the end of the night when my wonderful, opinionated roommate told me that I needed to quit being mad because I wasn't drunk and have a good time. Who says shit like that? Ok, I woke up relatively early today, went to work, and ran 4 miles before we sat down for dinner. That along with 2 glasses of wine had made me TIRED. Therefore, I was in a very chill mood and didn't feel like dancing or being crazy. Nothing wrong with being mellow, right? But because I couldn't muster up enough energy to get crazy, it was automatically assumed that it was because I was sober, and that must mean that I'm on the brink of becoming a raging alcoholic who claims that I need to have alcohol to accompany a good time or when I'm stressed out. Thanks Dr. Emily.....that's just what I need is you telling me that I have a drinking problem. Note: this criticism comes from the person that caused me to miss the fucking Tennessee/GA game last year because she drank too much and won an ambulance ride to the hospital after an intense throw-up session inside Sanford Stadium. Really nice sweetheart. Thanks for being such a good friend...............

So, apparently, what it boils down to is that I have a reputation of being a wild child. I am, however, well aware of this. When asked to describe me, most people would probably include their rendition of some sort of drunk story in which they've either been part of or witnessed.....my reputation definitely preceeds me. In my defense, however, while I definitely have plenty of crazy nights on record, those nights are few and far between. Last week, I went out 4 nights in a row only because I had time and because I had friends in town, but even still, two of those nights I refrained from drinking even a sip of alcohol. During the school year, I only drink on weekends if at all. I've spent many Saturday nights at home just bullshitting because I don't NEED to drink! It's just a fun thing to do! Yes, sometimes I need to unwind and things get a little ridiculous, but how does this make me different from any other college student? I haven't been dubbed a regular at any local bar as of yet, and drinking more than one night in a row is a feat I haven't accomplished since the craziness of freshman year. But hey, if someone thinks I need AA, then bring it on. I just hope that they have room for AT LEAST 20,000 other UGA students because chances are, their drinking habits are equivalent, if not worse, than my own. So fuck you....

Here's a typical scenario of what happens when me and alcohol get together: first of all, my volume level increases directly proportionally to the level of alcohol consumption. I'm a loud person to begin with, and on top of that, I'm deaf as hell, so please excuse me for being boisterous, but there's probably a fat chance that I'm going to be capable of using anything close to an "inside" voice. Furthermore, as my inhibitions go down, the random things I say usually become more and more outlandish, and I tend to say things I shouldn't or talk to/text message people that I really just don't need to communicate with (specifically prospects or ex's), but most people find it entertaining and if you don't, then chances are that you're that guy that never called me back so I guess it doesn't matter anyway. The first time I ever threw up from drinking too much was on my 21st birthday, and aside from two or three other times, I've never needed anyone to take care of me, and I assure you that I find those times very embarrassing and I can't express how sorry I am for putting people in the position where they had to babysit me, but I am very grateful that I have great friends who have been there for me when I needed it. We all pay for drinking too much the next day, so I've been punished for the times that it got out of hand, believe me. They say drink responsibly for a reason, and that's because you're supposed to be responsible for yourself, and for the number of times that I've gotten crazy, I think I've done pretty good. So tell me again, what's so wrong with having a good time when you drink? I don't think there's anything wrong with getting drunk and living it up. After all, this is college and I'm still young and spry....when else am I going to be able to do this? If this makes me irresponsible, so be it. That's your opinion, and lucky for me, I'm not asking for it (so please, don't give it to me). Even while drunk, I've made good decisions and have never, ever gotten myself in a situation that I regret (this includes random hook-ups....I don't believe in them and therefore will never be involved in one....yeah, I'm a loser like that, sorry.) I just don't understand why having a good time constitutes alcoholism or why I've been tagged with the stigma of being a wild child. If this is truly the way that people think of me, then I don't need that reputation. Sign me up to be the DD, not the next member of AA. I don't need alcohol and refuse to let people think that I do. That isn't who I am, but it really sucks that a person I thought knew me for who I was had to throw that shit in my face while we were in the middle of the bar (isn't that ironic?) Seems like if she really thought something wasn't right that she would have had the gall to sit me down and have a serious chat about what was up. Instead, it's being used against me in the middle of Classic City, and that hurts worse than she'll ever know. Guess I know who my true friends really are, huh? This really sucks.......but again, there's nothing I can do. Oh well....

So yeah, gotta love drama. At least the adrenaline from getting pissed off gave me the energy to write so that I can entertain those of you who find reading my blog interesting. By the way, thanks for the comments you guys. Keep 'em coming!

It's been a long night.......I'm going to bed......sweet dreams guys........

"These days are crazy, but they make me shine..." --Oasis

sigh...

My creative juices have been running low lately which is both good and bad: good because it's indicative of the lack of drama in my life (we don't like drama); bad because nothing has really been inspiring lately with the exception of a couple profound, personal revelations that I didn't really feel the need to harp on. I've been really busy lately...liberation from educational responsibilities has given me time to work on my social life. Last week, I went out Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night, and visits from out-of-towners made it all the more fun. Most of them were Perry peeps, and I have to say that seeing an old face is absolutely refreshing. My self-esteem has been boosted 7402875032987523784 points because there is just something about being with old friends and reminiscing on old times that just makes ya feel good. Ah, gotta love nostalgia...it was really good to see you guys and I hope you know that my couch is always open if you ever wanna come back! (Even you Kit although I'm still pissed that I didn't get a shout out in your blog! jk)

The biggest woe that I have right now is about my mom. Before I proceed to mention what's up, I should probably make it clear that I love my Mom so incredibly much and think that she is an amazing woman. I would not be who I am had she not been there to make sure I was doing the things I needed to do, and for that I will be forever grateful. While probably the most influential person in my life, beyond our work ethics, commitment, sense of humor, and endeavors to always do what's right, we are so incredibly different that it's amazing we're even able to make conversation sometimes. One of the biggest things that makes us different is that my mom loves to hold grudges and can never let go of the past whereas I can get mad, throw down, and an hour later I'm ready to take you out for ice cream. There are so many things in my mom's past that she simply cannot let go of, namely the divorce with my father 17 years ago. Unfortunately, her hatred is so strong that it blocks her inhibitions to take out her pain on us ("us" being me and my brother). I don't really know what happened that caused my parents' divorce although I've heard a few stories and put some pieces together, but for some reason, my mother cannot seem to get over it. This grudge is the reason that she is not talking to me right now which really sucks since she is the only member of my family that I talk to on a regular basis (that's another wound that I'll save for later). My mother cannot for the life of her understand why we even want our father in our lives. It's a battle that we have fought so much that I've grown completely numb to it. I no longer hear the stinging comments about my dad, I don't hear her hateful words about how superficial we are to let him attempt to buy our love (which is totally not true), and I don't pay attention to her anger when we want to see or talk to him. In my opinion, it's bullshit. Last time I checked, none of this was my fault. At four years old when they decided to split, all I was worried about was where my favorite doll was and whether or not Grandma was going to take us to McDonald's for dinner. She never fails to make us feel guilty for seeing him. While in Perry for my brother's graduation, we had lunch once and spent one afternoon together the entire 4 days I was home, and she's pissed. But I've learned after 17 years of this bullshit to just let it all go. I can't make her happy, and I can't make her realize that she's just wasting energy being so angry. It's so frustrating, but there's absolutely nothing I can do. The good thing is that I'm in Athens so I don't have to deal with her on a daily basis although I'm hurting for my little brother who does have to deal with her coldness right now. The bad thing about it all is that I feel like no one cares about me. I know they do, but she was the only person outside of my roommates that showed any concern on a daily basis. Me and my mother have an understood rather than spoken love that is hard for outsiders to understand. Sometimes, I would do anything to hear her actually tell me that she loved me, but that's just not how our relationship is. All the same, it's been so long since I've heard anybody say those three words to me that it's hard not to feel neglected. I think that's why I'm infatuated with the idea of having a relationship so bad, but I've given up on the idea for now. If it comes, then it comes. I sorta, kinda had something pending, but I've decided to provide the space and time needed to see if he'll come around. I found him pretty damn amazing, but he backed away and I'd be willing to chase him if I knew it would get me somewhere, but I figure that standing in one place while getting myself together is the best thing I can do right now. This, however, has been hard. In spite of all the cool people who have been hangin' out and my wonderful roommates who keep me upbeat, it's hard not to feel so alone. At the end of the day, I just pray that God will continue to carry me through this rocky time and get me out of this funk. And I think with time, my mother's heart will be strong enough to break through the rocks and she'll realize that she's being ridiculous. At least I hope so, because I really, really, REALLY hate the silent treatment, and I've been getting it a lot lately in many aspects of my life. I'm strong enough to hear what people say because it helps me draw some sort of understanding from them. I like to try to understand people, even if their feelings are not in my favor. Being left in the dark without knowing how people are really feeling is perhaps the worst feeling in the world. But I guess that's just me.

Anywho, for those of you who have had to deal with me lately, namely my roommates, I'm really sorry I've been such a bum. That's why I keep locking myself in my room because that's where I belong so that you don't have to deal with me being difficult. Either way, I'm really sorry, but I'll hopefully break out of this soon. Thanks for understanding....

Until next time..............

"Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to doesn't mean that they don't love you with all they have..."