Sore Throats Suck. And Stuff.

Hi blog, remember me? Yeah, me neither. So I have not written anything in a ridiculously long period of time, partially due to being insanely busy and partially because I'm just lazy. But I thought I would get back into the swing of things before the new year. Best to start off on the right foot, or I might not start off at all.

In the past month(ish) I've been having some interesting things going on. There's been work, the buffin, Christmas, Evan, the general fact that I am broke as efk, and all that other holiday goodness.

Since there has been so much (or perhaps little) going on, I don't really feel like detailing it all, but a few highlights are in order, for posterity and such. Chase rolled over (yay! gross motor skills!), ironically while wearing a shirt with Santa and his sleigh on it that said "this is how I roll", by the way. Evan and I have been... 'talking', as we've put it. Whatever the heck that means. Hard to do much else when you live three time zones apart. I finally got off my lazy butt and registered for school and financial aid (which means that I should be getting a laptop next month. Mmmm tasty. My mom finally got a job, and she loves it. It pays very well, too. I am seriously needing to look for a new job, but I've been putting it off. Bad bad Dragon. Oh, and I've had a seriously awful sore throat for going on 12 days now, which I caught from Chase. Poor thing is sick too. Well, as far as I can think of, that's pretty much it.

So for fun and kicks, here's a picture of the Buffin.

Kind of fuzzy, but that's ok. He really likes it when I put his feet on his face. Silly kid.

--Dragon Read more!

Setting The Standard

I am so tired.

I am smart. I am a very hard worker. I am a loyal and dedicated friend. I take pride in myself, my work, and my effect on others. I sometimes complain too much, but I try not to. All my life, people expect more from me than they do from others, because I am smart, I am a hard worker, I am a loyal and dedicated friend, and I have a sense of honor and pride.

In school, I was expected to deliver not just what was required to make the grade, but also to go above and beyond. At home, I am expected to be an example, to behave better, to know what is 'right' and what is 'wrong'. At work, I am expected to work hard every moment that I am there and do so with cheer and good humor. In my friendships, I am expected to forgive, to understand, to wait on the sidelines patiently until I am needed. All because this is what I have proven capable of.

All my life I have been held to a higher standard, and I am bloody sick of it. I fought so hard against it in high school that I nearly flunked out. At work, I am one of the hardest working employees but I get crap hours because I am not one of the 'kool kids' and rarely any recognition, because I always go above and beyond that I guess they no longer feel the need to reward me for doing what I am going to do anyway. I have set the bar so high for myself that I don't even know how to surpass it.

My idiot brother Sam gets molly-coddled and rarely held accountable for his actions because he has pretended to be an idiot for so long he has become one. He gets treated great any time he actually bothers to do remotely well, and I get nothing when I do because it is assumed that I will do it regardless. When I was 17 I was getting kicked out or grounded constantly for doing things far less serious than what he does. He is a liar, a cheat, a thief. He does the bare minimum for his schoolwork and my mom signs off on some assignments he doesn't even do just so she doesn't have to deal with the hassle of actually making him do them. He is scum in training. But that's ok. Be a complete waste of space, break things, steal things, lie like it's going out of style, treat everyone around you like shit, and when you actually do something even remotely worthwhile, you'll get treated like a prince.

I am so incredibly tired of being 'better', 'smarter', 'more capable'. I want someone to notice that I am a hard worker. I want someone to say, 'You know, you're doing a great job. I can always expect you to do what you're supposed to. Thanks.' How hard is that? I am so sick of it.

I don't believe that others are less capable than I am. I think they are simply less willing. Set the bar low, and everyone will be pleasantly surprised when you actually perform what you are really capable of. Set it high by always exceeding expectations, and that becomes the expectation. It's not fair. What am I supposed to do? I won't be a slacker like most others, I have too much pride. But why is it so much to ask for a little recognition. I thrive off of it. I work so hard to get it that I almost never get any. It's ironic, really. The harder I work, the more I try to do my best, the less likely I am to get any kind of reward or recognition. So incredibly asinine.

I am smart. I am a very hard worker. I am a loyal and dedicated friend. I take pride in myself, my work, and my effect on others. I have a strong sense of honor. And I hate it.

--Dragon Read more!

Only Rock And Roll Can Save Us Now

Went and saw Chevelle on the 28th. It rocked. They played with Tyler Read and 2 Cents. Very good show. I got to meet Tyler Read and have my CD signed and my picture taken with them(that's Erik and me in the middle). It was on Erik's phone though, so not a very good picture. Still, it was awesome. They were very nice. One of the guitarists gave me a quarter to buy their CD because I was short. How cool is that?



I got into a fight with my mom today. It was over Sam stealing a dollar from me, of all things. An effing dollar. It wasn't that she denied that he stole it, no, she was upset because I was pissed off that he stole from me. Yeah, cuz I'm just supposed to sit back and let him steal from me. He does it all the time, and this is the first time it was money. It wouldn't be such a big deal, if he wanted it he could have asked and I likely would have given it to him, but he lied and said he put it in my mom's purse. There was no way he put it in her purse. There were $10 in her purse when I checked it, all folded together. If he had put it there, he wouldn't have pulled the money already in there out and folded it up together. That's just not how he operates.

She of course called me a bunch of highly uncalled for names and accused me of all kinds of things, namely being lazy and having a bad attitude. Yeah. Ok, cuz it's ok that she treats everyone like shit because nothing is going her way, but if I get pissed off that someone is constantly stealing my stuff from my room WHILE I'M ASLEEP mind you, then I am an effing evil bitch. Uh huh. So now she's saying she won't help me with college and I'm not even sure if she's going to watch Chase when I go back to work on Saturday (I have today, Thursday and Friday off). Just great, right? And I don't know whether or not she is just being pissy or if she really means it. I don't think she means it, because she doesn't stick to her guns (note that this is the reason Sam is a criminal-in-training who never actually gets disciplined because he simply ignores her). But if she does, then I'm royally screwed.

I'm so sick of this crap. I absolutely loathe relying of anyone else, because people constantly stab me in the back or walk all over me, even my own mother. I should have seen it coming though, she started kicking me out when I turned 17 and as such caused me to get kicked out of high school so I had to go to an adult school. I had to work my ass off to make sure I graduated. I got no help. But dear precious Sam, that's a different story. She is doing everything she possibly can to see him pass. The brat is 17 and in 10th grade. She pulled him out of school and put him in home school because obviously regular school isn't working. Of course it isn't working. He's a spoiled brat and doesn't give a damn. He doesn't care about himself, or anyone else for that matter. He wants to fail because he could care less whether or not he actually becomes a productive member of society. He thinks that mommy is going to support him when he turns 18 and is still in high school. She probably will. I hope she doesn't though. He needs to get kicked out and see what life is really like.

It's not fair. I stayed because I wanted to make her happy. I never went to live with dad. I chose to stay. And I got treated like crap, kicked out, grounded all the time, and of course I never got anything good except for a bike that she left down south to make room in the Uhaul for an effing queen size bed for Sam. Like he needed a damn queen sized bed. He ruined it within months of getting up here anyway. But Sam comes back and lives with her when he's 12, about as effed up as a person can get, and he's the flipping prodigal son. He gets all kinds of stuff, a TV, a nice stereo, PS2, PSP, all that. And of course he never got into trouble because she was too afraid he'd go running back to dad. God I hate emotional people. He would never run back to dad. He beat him and made him believe he was a complete idiot. And look, now he really is one.

I'm so sick of this. I need out of here. I need to be able to take care of myself and not have to deal with other people and their stupid irrational emotional bullshit. I am so sick of other people.

Oh yeah, other than that, I had a nice Hallowe'en. I dressed up as a witch and dressed Chase as the Jolly Green Giant (pictures forthcoming) and went to Kim's and then Sara's. It was nice.

--Dragon Read more!

From Dwelling to Home

Been feeling like crap. Things around here have been sucking incredibly hard lately-- broke, sleepless, stressed out, effing moronic me forgetting to take my meds every day so I've been feeling even more crappy, and worse, the running is in my head again. Sometimes I feel stifled, like my skin is too tight and I can't breathe, and I just want to run. When everything is a mess and I feel like there's no use cleaning it, and I just want to start over with a clean canvas. Those times where I feel like grabbing my CDs, some clothes, and my journal and just driving until the gas runs out. This has been one of those times.

But today there is hope. Finally we got some good news- today we heard from the people at the apartment complex we applied to. It's a brand new complex (only a few people living in it right now), it's absolutely gorgeous and feels blank, no impressions or leftover unpleasantness from previous owners (I get impressions in places. I've turned down more than a few awesome apartments because they made me feel sad or creeped out. Wierd, I know.). We have to turn in a few things and we are pretty much guaranteed to get the place.

It's CHIP (Cali's low income housing program, for those who don't know), so the rent will be about the same or less than we are paying now for a beautiful 3 bedroom apartment. It's a really unique design, too: it's in a three story building and occupies the top two floors in a building with 8 units, 4 3 bedrooms and 4 2 bedrooms that are located on the bottom floor. The upstairs is accessed by a door leading to an internal staircase that is part of the upstairs apartment.

There are 2 bedrooms and a bathroom on the top floor and one bedroom and one bathroom on the lower floor. The bottom room would be mine, and I'd have my own bathroom (OMG YAY!). It is awesome. Filled with light, all energy star appliances, a kitchen with a fantastic work triangle, and lots of storage space. It also has a large storage closet on the ground floor for things like barbeque equipment and the like.

I am so excited. I love moving, it makes me feel new and satisfies the nagging urge to run. Best of all, my mom will finally have her own room (right now she sleeps in the living room), so we will have a real living room and won't have to retreat to our rooms after about 9pm. Yay! Late night movies and all that when I can't sleep!

Fantastic. Absolutely fantastic.

--Dragon Read more!

Even I Realize That This Is A Tad Bit Too Honest

Let me first say that the person in question is a very sweet, kind hearted woman. I do like her. However, right now a lot of things are pissing me off. With much gusto and all that. This is what I would say to her if I could say it and then give her amnesia so she would forget the whole thing. And just so you know, I'm not always a very nice person.

Please stop asking me about the status of my being or the baby's. I am a very private person and I dislike discussing the goings on of my body, whether or not it is currently home to another person or not. Until he can speak for himself, he's going to live by my philosophy of "We don't talk about our bodies in polite company." Anyways, you know what it's like. You've had 5 of them. So just stop asking. Do you not notice how uncomfortable I get when you ask? And by the way, It's not like I see my doctor every day. Unless he suddenly stops moving or something wierd happens, I'm going to assume he's the same from one day to the next. Please don't ask to rub my belly. You are not rubbing the baby. You are rubbing a distended bit of flesh replete with happy little stretchmarks that is covering the baby. Don't ask if the baby is moving or kicking or whatever. I prefer not to think about it. Most of the time, he is shoved up into my ribs having a grand old time contorting my internal organs into new and interesting shapes. Other times he is trying to punch his way out through my nether regions. I personally don't like discussing anything that is that close to my nether regions.



I really want you to stop acting as if you have some sort of right to the baby. So your related. Oh well. If I wanted it to, that would mean diddly squat. Just so you know, you didn't make it. You aren't the one who gets to be a human incubation vehicle. You don't have to do the hard work. Which, by the way, it looks very much like I'll be going that one alone, or almost. You've already had your experience with the "miracle of childbirth" (ugh). Quit trying to act like you have a right to mine. IT IS NOT YOUR FREAKING BABY!!!!

Also, don't get all hurt and upset at me because I am not going to give up my goals to stay chained to this little town so you can have unrestricted access to him. Sorry. I know you decided to let your entire life revolve around your children's existence (oh, and look how that turned out), but I'm not going to. Yes, the baby will play a major role in my life. However, my life isn't going to simply end because I popped out a little pod person. Yes, I'm going to let you be part of his life. Yes, when I move, I'll come back to visit often, and you will be welcome to visit us. But I'm not going to sit here and become a jobless loser because you want another baby around.

I'm really sorry your one daughter is a moron and a whore and refuses to let you see her or your granddaughter. She needs to grow the fuck up and learn that the world does not revolve around her. (Oh, poor widdle baby, her family was so mean to her growing up. Cry me a river why don't you.) However, it is not my responsibility to make up for her lack of humanity. And by the way, you actually have the right to sue for visitation, and you'd probably win, but I'm never going to tell you that because I don't want you getting any ideas. I know you want a grandchild. I don't know why you do, but that's neither here nor there.

And keep in mind, the only reason this one is even in existence is because I royally screwed up. I didn't refill my birth control prescription and wasn't careful. Yes, I'm stupid. I tell myself that every day. But guess what? Unlike some people, including your son (who certainly had his part in this whole baby-making fiasco), I own up to my mistakes (most of the time) and try and take responsibility for my actions. So I'm going to pony up (lol yes I said pony up) and make sure that this baby is loved, cared for, and educated. Call me sick, but I see this as a grand experiment to see if I can do better than half the idiots out there that have no business having children in the first place. Yes, I know that's probably a horrible way to look at it. So shoot me. Oh, and don't tell me there are people (like your sister) who would die to be able to have children and I should be grateful. Believe me, I think she should be able to have children too, and I think she'd make a much better mother than me. However, I don't really have a say in things like that.

Don't get upset at me when I am not happy that you give me something that I don't want and don't have any space for but I have to take for fear of hurting your feelings. It's no wonder your son is such a soft-shelled cry baby sometimes. You asked if I had a baby registry. I told you where it was, and you didn't even bother to check it. You even asked my mom what I needed, and she told you that I really justed needed the basics and didn't want a bunch of extra, frivolous crap. You even told her you were glad I was so level-headed. So why did you turn around and get me a swing? She specifically said I didn't want a swing. If you don't want to get me something that is on my list (which by the way is a damned good, well thought out and incredibly thorough list), then by all means, save your money. I never asked for any gifts. I know you want to "help", but believe me, that was not helping.

Keep in mind that since my mom and brother moved in, the baby will no longer have his own designated space. Instead, he has to share mine. And you know what, I don't want my room overtaken with a bunch of cheap, garish, plastic crap. They baby will not know or care whether it has a stupid swing or a bunch of other space hogging equipment or not. All he needs is a place to sleep, some clothes, some food, some diapers, and someone to make sure he is happy, dry, and fed. I know this is shocking to you, but believe it or not it is quite possible to raise a child without buying stock in playskool or gerber.

Lastly, if I say that I want to keep the gender a secret, don't act like I'm some kind of strange creature who obviously is not from the same species as you. It's my freaking body and I'll tell you as much or as little as I want. Why the hell couldn't I have my little secret? Why is it such a crime to want to know something that you don't? You'd find out eventually. And you'll adore it whatever it's got inside it's diaper. And then, when my silly airheaded friend slipped and told you all the gender, why did you have to say, "oh, now I can buy a bunch of cute boy clothes!" When I told you a major reason I didn't want to tell you the gender is because I didn't want a bunch of gender specific crap.

People get too carried away with the "cuteness factor" of babies. That is why I didn't want you all to know, because you can't seem to get it through your thick heads. I hope and pray for the slight chance that it is a girl just so I can spite you all and dress her in all the "cute" little boy clothes you got me. Oh, and by the way, I live right across the street from a baby consignment shop. Don't think I'd have any qualms about marching over there and trading in all the stuff you guys got me for what I actually need. I know you purposely didn't give me reciepts because you knew I'd return the stuff if you did. Well guess what, I'm alot smarter than you think, I'll always find ways around whatever kind of roadblocks you put up.

I know this makes me sound like a heartless bitch from hell, but this is the accumulation of nine months of frustration and biting my tongue because I don't want everyone in Erik's family to hate me from the outset. But boy, am I getting fed up with all this kow-towing. And the baby isn't even born yet!

-Dragon

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The Space Between Yesterday and Tomorrow

I had a rather nice day today. The weather was nice. I didn't have any errands to run or anything to clean. I wandered aimlessly through the mall and looked at cell phones (alas, I hate being poor. I miss my cell!), bought some lunch for Erik and I, had a lovely pedicure a la my little brother, and a nice barbecue with my family and some of our neighbors. Days like these are wonderful in their complete mundane-ness.

Last night I scanned and photoshopped a picture of my mom from the year before I was born. (It had some water damage and was stuck to the glass of the picture frame it was in) She was a model for a short time. Isn't she beautiful?



--Dragon Read more!

Love and Hate and Everything Else or Relationships and How They Shape Us

I've been reading Thordora's Blog all evening. She talks fearlessly about her battles with bipolar disorder, the loss of her mother, and her struggles with motherhood and life in general. In short, she is my blogging hero. Her blog makes me feel less like a freak. She talks about alot of things I'm afraid to talk about, things I fear and would never have the courage to tell anyone else. In one of her posts she talks about the anniversary of her mother's death, and her desire to make the day a better one for herself. She asked for stories about our own mothers, and it got me thinking about my mom, and what I love and hate about her.

She taught me how to sew and cook delicious meals on a tiny budget, how to clean up after myself (too bad for her it didn't really take effect until I moved out), how to take pride in my work and do the job right the first time. She taught me to take the high road, although it's hard and so much less gratifying at times than giving a jerk their come-uppance. She taught me to question everything and to love books, and is the only person I know who I can have lengthy intelligent conversations about absolutely anything. She taught me so many things as well as allowing me to learn a lot of other things on my own.

I love that my mom has always allowed me to make my own choices, my decisions. I've had friends that she absolutely knew were using me and walking all over me (I unfortunately seem to have a sign on my head saying HUMAN DOORMAT!), but she wisely kept her mouth shut about it. If I asked her what she though about things like this, she let me know how she felt, but she never tried to ban me from seeing anyone or treating any of my friends like anything less than respectable, decent human beings (although I can definately say that some of them were pretty much the equivalent of human garbage).

She also never tried to rescue me from my mistakes. At the time I hated her for it and wondered why I always had to suffer the consequences when so many of my friends got off scot-free. Especially the time I got put on probation for a dumping this gloopy mix of ketchup, mud, mayo, beer (don't ask me how we got that one) and various other random fluids on a neighborhood kid who wouldn't stop bother me and my friends. They both managed to avoid probation: one moved to Arizona to stay with her rich grandfather for the summer, and the other got placed in a foster home because it was discovered that her mother was on some serious drugs and left her 5 kids home alone for days or even weeks on end with no food or money to buy any. Granted, in retrospect, I realize that being placed in foster care was possibly worse than probation, but it irritated me to no end that they got away with it, when it was their plan and I just happened to be present, and I got in trouble for something I still consider to be absurdly asinine. Many other times I had to take responsiblity for myself when I didn't want to, but now I'm glad that she didn't rescue me from everything. Many of those kids who I would use as examples when I tried to explain to my mother why she should let me get away with things have grown up to be sad and pathetic, turning to drugs and doing a lot of really stupid things. They can't function without someone to rescue them from themselves and manage every aspect of their lives.

On the other side of the coin, my mom was often very distant growing up and when things got to be too much she would run from me and my brothers and hide in her room. I used to think she was weak and couldn't handle anything and it made me furious. I swore I wouldn't be like her and run from my problems. I understand now that this came from very severe unmanaged depression and being overwhelmed by four small children clamoring for her every moment of the day. She would hide because she was literally afraid of hurting us or herself, but to this day I go into a rage when someone walks away from me when I'm talking to them. She tells me she feels guilty for this, and fears that her distance when my brothers and I were young caused us to have attachment problems and abandonment issues. I have a really hard time getting close to people, both emotionally and physically, and my brother Sam is incredibly clingy for a 16 year old. (I can't speak for my other 2 brothers, they live with my dad and I see them very rarely)

Because of her running away whenever things got tough, it's now very hard for me to deal with someone walking off from me in an argument or discussion. Erik has the habit of running from a situation whenever he gets overwhelmed, much like my mom, and all I want to do is tie him to a tree and force him to listen. It got to the point for a while where I would chase him down and scream at him for ignoring me, because that's what it feels like: I feel like I'm being abandoned, like my thoughts and feelings are unimportant and invalid. I'm trying to get over this, and the last few times he's done it I just told him he was being completely juvenile and that he could go throw his tantrum somewhere else if he liked, but it wasn't worth my time and effort to chase him down. This is especially difficult because he's so incredibly sensitive that he constantly takes things the wrong way and assumes I'm insinuating he's a moron or something. When he comes back I explain to him what point I was trying to get across and remind him that if he would just tell me what he doesn't understand or what's bothering him, we could discuss it and not have anyone walking around with a bruised ego. But of course he forgets by the next time I manage to offend him, and it happens all over again. I told him today he's going to have a small child to deal with one day not too far away, and that no matter what the kid says or does he can't just walk away. I have no idea whether he really understood that concept or not.

I wonder though, if my mom had been different, and didn't run away, how I would handle this. To be honest, I can't really even come up with what she could have done as an alternative. It's just the way it always was, infuriating though it may have been. I try to think how I can react to this kind of situation, and it leaves me equally at a loss. My only option is to try and ignore it when it happens and give her or Erik or whoever else does it their space, but it's So. Incredibly. Maddening.

I wonder how life would be if things were different-- if she didn't have depression (and consequently, if I didn't have it), if she had been more controlling when it came to my choice in friends, if she had bothered to give me a curfew instead of trusting my judgement as to an appropriate time to come home, if she had made me work harder at school when I was being rebellious and slacking off. A thousand if's with a thousand possibilities. There are times when I hate her and can't understand how she can possibly reason with herself that she is doing the right thing, and I tell her how disappointed I am and how angry I am that she thinks that she's doing the right thing. But at the end of the day, I always call her again and tell her all the silly or interesting things that happened to me. I am glad she's my mom and that despite her failings, she's still the only mom I would ever want. Read more!