Lana....if you're reading this...I miss you....

Conversations with Myself....Who the fuck am I?

I love the idea duality. Especially right now. Because my dual personalities are fighting. What I think about myself and who I am are duking it out. What I think about myself is all apart of what everyone else thinks about me, and who I am just doesn't have a fucking clue, it is something I have to come up with all my own.

Who I am is basically screwed, because I've based most of what I think about myself on what others think.

What I think about myself has a checklist of everything I need to change. Every reason why I'm wrong in logical order, chronologically.

Can I really be me if I am so worried about what other people think?

There's constructive criticism and there's letting other's ideals run your life. And I'm having a hard time differentiating between the two.

Who I am isn't wrong, it can't be, it's ME. But if I let what I think about be take too much control, won't I lose me?

The New Old Top 100

I just found my old Top 100, and here are the entries that are still applicable:

I used to think it was cool to shoot chemicals through my veins.

I spent 8 months in treatment for it.

I am still recovering from treatment.

I like to watch Veggie Tales more than my daughter.

I can't stand people that act like me. I like to be selfish, controlling, and spoiled all on my own.

I never wear sandals without painted toenails. I think my feet are ugly otherwise.

I got sick once when I was 6 yrs old eatting an enitre container of maraschino cherries. I don't eat them very often anymore.

I met my husband through ICQ.

I have pretty nipples. I have always been proud of them ;)

I am 22 years old, but I feel 30.

When asked what my age was by a doctor, it took me about a minute to figure it out. He thought it was funny, I felt like an idiot.

I have a pugged nose. My husband says it's "cute", I think it's my mom's way of genetic torture.

My sister used to pull her nose up with her finger and make fun of my nose. She has scarred me for life. I have yet to speak with my therapist about this issue.

I smoke too much.

I usually only smoke pot when I'm drunk. Otherwise it makes me feel weird. That is the only drug I do.

I love to take pictures. Someday I will have a house with a nice darkroom.


I hate the fact that my daugher has inherited my stubborn attitude.

When I was trying to decide a good name for my daughter, I chose one that sounded good when yelled...."Mikayla Lynn!"

I analyze things alot, especially when I'm drunk.

I think I have alot of good insights and points of view (especially when I'm drunk). I just have a hard time saying them (especially when I'm drunk).

I believe that some drugs can take you to a higher mental plain.

I love music, it's an excellent form of expression.

Sometimes music controlls my mood. (ie. when I listen to sad music it makes me sad, when I listen to happy music it makes me happy, when I listen to morbid music it makes me evil)

I am afraid of the dark. I have to have a nightlight in everyroom.

I scheduled my wedding around an astrological chart, giving me the best days for marriage.

I died my hair black once. I tried to get the black color out of my hair by using real bleach. A lot of the black changed to various shades of brown and blonde, but unfortunately half my hair fell out.

My eyes are two different colors, left one is green, right one is brown. The green one changes between brown and green. Thats my flippy side.

I have very strange dreams and I usually remember them, although I can't even begin to understand my own mind.

I don't like to sleep on my back. I prefer sleeping on my tummy.

I believe we are being screwed out of our rights by the government, but I don't know what to do about it.

I believe we are connected to a higher energy (God), but I don't believe in traditional religion. Although I do support most religions, because they are striving for that basic need for God. Sometimes I think that religions could all have merit ( and be related ), in their own ways. Maybe I will study this someday.

I know that I am smart, I just like people to think that I am not so I can outwit them.

I have a very deceptive side.

I like to organize things for some reason. I don't know why.

I like to organize things for some reason. I don't know why.

I have been told I have a bad co-dependency problem, but I don't understand what they mean.........where's noah? Noah?!

I have a big heart, and my body is getting bigger to accomodate.

I have slept with more guys than I can remember, yet I have a husband who was a virgin before I met him. He doesn't think I'm a slut. He understands that I have open leg sydrome. He calls me his muse.

I was raped once when I was 15 by a friend of my step-dad's.

I blame my promiscuous streak on the fact that I was violated and I wanted my sexual control back. No wonder I married a virgin, eh? haha

I have always had long, flimsy fingernails. I wish they would get stronger, but I don't drink enough milk.

I put a telephone in my name for a friend who was being beaten by her boyfriend and couldn't afford a phone. A week later, I was hanging out with her while my boyfriend was at the bar. While I was in the shower at their house, my boyfriend came in the bathroom and through the shower curtain to bite me in the arm. I guess it's better then being punched the face. He did it because he swore I was having sex with her and her beating ass boyfriend. We had a big fight, and he bit a chunk out of my arm. I wasn't allowed to talk to her anymore. He made me shut the phone off without tell her. I don't know what happened to her, and the bill has never been paid.

I used to hate people who drove around and talked on cell phones, until I got one of my own.

I have lived in Indiana for 9 months and in west Texas for 4 months.

I have a hard time telling people I am sorry. It is easier for me to end the relationship than to admit when I'm wrong.

I like it when I am talked dirty to.

The first kinky thing I have ever done with my husband involved peanut butter.

I have always wanted a big fuzzy teddybear to cuddle with, but I have never gotten one.

I pierced my nose 3 different times by myself, but have since taken out the ring. I still have a small scar.

I have a tatoo on my leg of a rose that was done by someone who had been up for a few days on crank. I got it when I was 18. He used a homemade tatoo gun, and went over it 10 times. It doesn't look too bad, and I am lucky that I didn't contract HIV, thank God!

I had a boyfriend that died when I was 16. His death is what made me fell justified to get into drugs as bad as I did. His mom was the drug dealer.

I would like to have more children, but don't know if I can handle anymore right now. My husband and I have decided to let God choose, whoever that is.

I have owned 2 Mustangs, one was a 1985 LX and the other was a 1992 LX 5.0. The 5.0 got totalled when I was drunk and let the sober guy drive. I didn't even get to wreck my own car.

When the cops found the car in a ditch on a country road (I was going to get it the next day), they found a 6-pack in the front seat. I told them that I was driving and he was drinking because I was the one that was underage. I was 18. I got a $30 ticket for Failure to Maintain Control of my vehicle.

(actually, I've owned another Mustang since I wrote that, a 2005 mustang. Loved it, until I slid it off the side of a telephone poll. Then I realized maybe Mustangs just arn't made for me, even if it's no me that crash them.)

I used to get paid quarters for getting beers for the guys when I was 4-5yrs old. I remember sitting on the porch and counting my quarters one morning, and thinking I was rich because I had $2 in quarters.

When I was about 6, I went out hunting with my step-dad and his friends. I kept complaining that I was thristy, so they gave me a glass with some clear liquid in it that looked like water. I grabbed in and chugged it down, and then started crying because it burned. They gave me vodka. They said I was very drunk after that, and laughed. I don't remember this incident, I wonder why.

I had a poem published in a book when I was 11, and was really proud until I found out there were 400,000 (slight exageration) other poems in the same book. I felt cheated. They wanted me to buy the book for $65, and I couldn't afford it. They just wanted 400,000 people to give them $65. Bastards!

I love teaching my daughter new things, and watching her do them when I'm not expecting it.

----

I guess I still have a pretty good gauge on myself.

Am I the only on unable to sleep due to the upcoming holiday? It's like I have all these responsibilities and I'm so flipping scared. I don't know what to do. I don't want to sleep because I know it will only bring the inevitable. More shit to worry about, more reasons why I'm wrong. When I know I'm not wrong. I know too much to be wrong.

When I sat in the bathtub of my sisters house and she seen the bruises on my chest, she knew I wasn't wrong. Even though the rest of my family somehow thinks either I wanted it or deserved it.

When I was sixteen and drunk as shit, my step-sis gave me a line of crank in her bathroom. It was initiation I guess, cause I got the first line. It was cut up on the toilet in the bathroom on a paper folder. Being drunk, I snorted my line, and as I moved to get up as the chemicals drained down my nostrils, I knocked everyone else's lines of crank on floor. Even then, unbeknownst to me, I wasn't wrong. Although I still feel like an ass about it.

I can't believe that it's 5:13 am on Christmas Eve (not Christmas Day, get it right), and I'm thinking about this shit. Something is really bothering me.

I hate mornings. Especially mornings where I have to pretend that the past is so damn great. Cause it really wasn't. It's been hard getting to where I am now. I don't hold my family or anyone else responsible, it's just life. But it's important enough to be acknowledged nonetheless. Stop pretending it's so pretty. Stop hiding behind some Christmas tree or some gift, or some flag even.

edit....
I think I know what's bothering me. It's been kinda plain as day, for a little while, but I don't even know how to begin to bring it back up. It really bothers me, and pisses me the fuck off.

but I have to talk about how I got raped.
THEY DON'T BELIEVE ME! Why don't they believe me?????

I was 15 years old! Why the fuck would I run from the flimsy foundation of my stepdads house....

Maybe moreso, why the fuck didn't anybody care? Why didn't anyone fight for me??

Jimmy did when he seen that I shooting up. JR punched the guy that raped me, two years too late. I know he knew when it happened, but apparently he didn't believe it. Most didn't.

Except for L, because she was the one I called the very next day, crying, too afraid to walk out of my bedroom to go pee because HE might be out there.

L was the only one that cared.

She saw the bruises. No one else saw them. I screwed up when I forgot to lock the bathroom door before she brought me a towel.

Thinking back on it now...I wish I would have displayed my bruised chest for all to see. That was my only evidence, and because I hid it, no one will ever see it for themselves.

At the time, and even now, it's so much easier to run away.

Fighting the forces, Kanye West's mom recently died from plastic surgery. She probably wouldn't have even been able to get plastic surgery if Kanye didn't make it big in the industry. I cannot image how Kanye is feeling now, it's really sad and horrible. He's not in anyway responsible, but I don't doubt for a second that he feels that he is.

And the more even sad and horrible part is that music producers and really shitty fans are asking "How strong are you now?". Music producers are asking that because they don't give a shit about his life, they just want to know how marketable he is. They worry way fucked up shit like "I hope your mom doesn't hurt your visual appearance."

And maybe thats a good thing. Because it has and it will make him stronger. But I could never deal with my mom dying and the shit people are saying.

Let this make you stronger, Kanye. Fuck them.

If the world was broke, would we know how to fix it?

The human race suffers from a serious communication problem.

Not only don't we understand one another in the same country (rednecks vs yankees, you versus the part of the country you aren't too fond of....lol), we fail to understand the other peoples in our world. And if we don't understand them, we loathe them. They are less.

Even those who we think are more 'well off' then we are, we dislike. It's human nature to reject what we ain't comfortable with. Doesn't matter if it's up down, left, right, or softened vs crumbly cream cheese.

Imagine an ant hill with a communication problem. Hell, watch an ant hill, and you'll realize they MUST have an education problem...(due to a lack of memory, I'm sure). If anything a big fucking YOU is disturbing their reality of UFO's, or at the very least, demoralizing their line of "troops" because not only are they trying to relay back to "homebase" that they don't want to die, but also that they don't even know what death is, much less getting stomped on or sun-magnified by a human, whatever a human is.

I cannot believe after 4 years this blog still exists! Wow, it's cool to have all my old archives again. Or maybe not...I can't remember what I wrote...lol

Anywho....just to update real quick. I will be posting here again since I've gotten rid of the drunkphilosophy.com site. Lots going on and lots to talk about. Mikaya is now almost 6 years old and in kindergarten...amazing how time flys!

It's good to be back. I will post more soon, but I have to work on cleaning the HELL out of my house. We're looking at selling it and moving into an organic mini-farm! Chickens and EVERYTHING! *giddy*

Moved


This Blog Has Moved to http://www.drunkphilosophy.com

Life is a dull splat of irritation
These days, I seem to wane under the validity of my own amusement. Speckles of sun, from deep in the sky, cower down on me as if laughing at my degredation. And amidst all this valuptious scheduling, I have no fuckin idea what is going on. Nor have I the conotation of my own cerebrial impulses. Lest thee be forbidden to ride the electrifying web of calibration, thy multon brain be beqwethed to the depths of a spellchecker.
Thankyou, please come again.

Trying to Recover
Last night was crazy. We went out with Noah's sister Amy and her husband, Brian. They are in town from Hawaii for Christmas and New Years, but they are leaving early tomorrow morning. We all went to the bar and rang in the new year by getting stinking drunk. I woke up today with the most killer headache in the world....lol
I know I haven't blogged much lately, I've been working on the new site. Stickysidedown.net. Lana already transferred her blog there. I'm tryin to get everything else done before I do that. I'm not in a big hurry. Probably going to switch from blogger to greymatter because of the comment boxes and the problems I've been having with my archieves.
I'll have to blog about everything later, I'm really tired. My body needs rest.

LOLOL

Which Dysfunctional Care Bear Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla


not really.....LOL

Site is Up!
The blog isn't on there yet, but some other stuff is. This is just a temporary domain until the actual domain registration goes through. I stayed up all night messin with it, and had some strange experiences along the way. I'll have to fill ya in later.

Coming Soon
I just registered www.stickysidedown.net. This blog is gonna be in there somewhere, along with everything else I got on the web, and my sister's stuff too. And if Noah wants to put up stuff, it'll be there too. I'll let ya know when it's up and most definitely when I move this blog!

Knowing Me
I was searching for some music to listen to, and I found a cd full of music I used to listen to when I came back from Texas. I was working to get over Eric, and burned a cd of music. I was with noah, but it was still only about 6 months since I left Eric. Eric, and the life that we had together, were hard to get over.
It's almost like an entirely different life, looking back on it now. It's almost like I was more free in spirit at that time then I am now. Maybe not so much free as there was a hell of alot more going on at that time. Maybe since so much was going on, I didn't have a chance to get into my mind and think about all the emotional bullshit so much. Who knows.

We left Portage, Indiana early in the morning, with everything for 3 people packed into a small Ford Ranger, driving non-stop for 22 hours straight to west Texas. Odessa, that was our destination. It was about 3 hours north of El Paso, and prolly about the same from New Mexico. I took lots of pictures of nothing. Road signs, us in the car, crazy stuff. It was a complete thrill. I was 19 years old, on the run from life, and on my way to Texas. We listened to music, watched the daylight and the sceenery change, and smoked lots and lots of weed.
It was just Eric, Daniel (his friend), and I. Eric was 28, and had lived in Odessa, Texas for a few years before he met me, that is where he met Daniel. They met up again when we were in Indiana, because they were both they were both roofers, and met up there roofing houses after a severe hail storm. Daniel had alot of friends in Texas, and even one that got him a one bedroom house to come back to. And thats where we were headed, to Daniel's house.
We knew we had somewhere to stay, didn't have to worry about that. They were roof/construction guys, they didn't worry about work. And me being female, knew that between two guys (was only with Eric though), I would be taken care of. No worries.
All I wanted to do was fly, and that I did. Met all sorts of people, lived with the excitement, drank the beers, smoked the cigars, and got the t-shirt and cup to go along with it. We made little trip toys out of bread sacks to go along with our acid nights. Drank lots of whine to bring us down to reality. And even had a few nights with the crazy woman next door.
After a while I began to wind down, trying to figure out what hell I'm doing with my life. Getting high everyday was becoming a little mudane, and staying home while the guys when to work, got quite boring.

Eric was a very suspicious character, so I had to get used to explaining everything that happened during the day. That really began to kill the fun. I wasn't going around giving bodily taste tests, I was very commited to Eric. He just didnt' want to believe that.
Even thought I am now happily married, I still believe Eric and I would still be together if he wasn't so jealous and controlling. He had alot of love in his heart, but he had alot of hate there too. The closest ones always pay for the hate.

Eric used to suspicious of Daniel too, especially since he lived in the same house. Suspicious that I was screwing Daniel, yet he always only confronted me about the 'problem'. That got old real quick. After about 4 months, I decided that the relationship wasn't going anywhere.

I took another trip. This time is was home. Iowa. Back to the place I was running from, and yet suddenly I was running back to it.
Before Eric and I moved to Indiana, we were both completely hooked on crank, I was shooting it. So I was going back to the scariest place I could think of going. The people where there, the 'tweek friends'. I was scared that they would find me. Thats prolly one of the big reasons why I stayed with Eric for as long as I did ( a year ). I hadn't done any crank since I had moved to Indiana, I wanted it, yet I didn't, I was fighting and scared.
I came back to Iowa, and I was okay. I hid out at my mom's for a few months, and then I met noah. What i can I say, noah is the calm after the storm. I gave him so much hell before we got married. I fought him for my extreme excitement, but in the end I let him win.

To sum it all up, it's too bad that most of our personal experience is unspeakable. It's that unspeakable truth that makes each of us difference for our own reasons. If you could understand my unspeakable truth, wouldn't you be my best friend, because you could finally relate.
But, if I took the time to tell you, would you get caught in the words I speak, and you understand them as only you could understand them (from your own personal life), and then judge my life because my life wasn't understood (lived) by you?