guilty…a bit

My best friend for the last 20 years stayed with me for six whole weeks, it was amazing! We did Pisa, Florence, Rome, random lakes and beaches, the Netherlands, the Czech Republic…traveled everywhere and slept very little.
She’s a recovering anorexic, and I just gotta say that since she left a week ago it’s been really nice not to hear, “have I gained weight? I feel so fat!” from someone literally 50 pounds lighter than me.
I love her so much but I have to think about my mental health as well.

Relay for Life

Last year Relay for Life in my community kind of sucked.

This year I wanted to head up the entire thing, but they already had a leader (who had no idea what Relay for Life was), so they gave me Entertainment.

Relay for Life is in 17 days.

I have a committee of 3 other people who are supposed to be helping me. One girl has a kid and was like, “OH! I’ll take all of the children’s activities! It’ll be great!”.

One guy was like, “let me figure out what movies to play in the wee hours, and do prizes for competitions”.

The other guy said, “let me co-chair. I’ll ease the stress and do shit you don’t want to do”.

They all had their assignments months ago.

I haven’t been able to get in touch with any of them recently.

I’m. Stressing. Out.

Especially with just losing Kylie to ovarian cancer…I want this event to be the best R4L that has ever been put on in this community.

I want people excited for 24 hours. I want them to love the event and to be passionate about the cause.

 

I can’t sleep. I’m so worried that everything is going to go wrong. My two bands (one of which the co-chair is supposed to be coordinating but WHO THE FUCK KNOWS) and 3 DJs are going to back out. The girl who’s supposed to be doing all of the children’s activities will never get back to me (I’ve called, e-mailed and texted constantly. I even hit her up on FB) so I won’t be able to give her the money budgeted for children’s shit and I’m going to have to do all of it like three days before.
AND WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE DOING FOR PRIZES?????? 2.5 WEEKS OUT. 2.5. NOTHING. JKLDFSJAKL;DJFKL;ASDJFKL;DSAJFKL;SJFLK;DSAJFKLAS;JFDKLAS;JFKADLS;JFDKLSAJFAKL;SJDFKLASDJFLKSAJFLKADSJFKLASJFKLASDJFKDLSAJFDKL;SADJKS

Ideas?

Cancer

Lost another one. It’s been a few years, but my middle school memories are full of her laughter.

She taught me the word “piss”. I said it when I got home from the youth group retreat and my Mom slapped me across the face.

Maybe if I had kept touch with her I would believe in a kind and loving God, but how can I when he takes all the best people?

If you’re going to take them, God, take them early. Early enough that only their families truly feel it. If they’re good enough to not feel the pain of growing up, don’t force that on them.

At leat she went quickly. Diagnosed, and dead a week later.

 

Reasons For My Atheism

by A.H. I don’t know who A.H. is, but I love this poem.

 

Lord, I am tired of
things being hard. They say
that only the good die
young, but I’m
still here.

And I wonder why I’ve never been
good enough for you
to take early,
Lord,

and God I am
tired of being
here when all
the lights are
out.

If I were to go
by my own hand
and spill my blood
in the war under
this skin of
mine
then I’d be no good
for you at all,
Lord,
and I am tired of things being
rough.

I am tired
of these same six prayers
of the waking breaths and
the half-dying and
all the things
in between,

all the never-living and
the never-born
that no-one mourns.
Lord, I am tired of things
being hard,

and I am tired
of the darkness,
and this person who ghosts
above these
bones of mine
is a stranger, Lord,

and I’d cast them out
if I thought you’d care.

This soul of mine is
a wasteland, Lord;
heap earth
and dust upon it
so that men may mourn for
me and all the
things I never
had.

These bones of mine are
a house, Lord;
I built a home
beneath flesh and bone
and walled myself up
in my skeleton
and prayed through my
teeth.

This skin of mine is
battle-scarred, Lord;
I can tell where I’ve
been from the
lines by my eyes
and the space
around my little
self;

but you haven’t found me,
Lord, and God knows
I have searched
myself.

Lord, I am tired of
things being hard.

Lord, I am tired of
things being hard.

It’s not right

My parent’s both work 60 hours a week at least. They work until they barely have time for their family and then some. And they have three kids living at home right now that they have to factor in to everything (two are going off to college, one next week and one two weeks later. But still). And I’m here in New Mexico for two weeks, and when I offer to fly my Mom out for three 1/2 days of hang time, my Dad says, “I don’t feel like we can afford for her to miss work”. I get that. I do. Neither of them make what they deserve, and the place that they live in sucks a lot of money out of them. I’m partially to blame for that. The last time they re-mortgaged the house was for me. So that I could go to boarding school.

But it’s four days, one of which she isn’t even scheduled to work. And I feel like she (and Dad) works too much for too little to not be able to miss a couple of days of work. And I know that they’re not the only ones. But it’s not right. If I’m willing to pay for her flight and I already have the hotel then there should never be a problem. It makes me so angry that they have this problem.

And they never let me send money home. 90% of my friends send money to their parents every month to help them make the bills and all that. And my parents have never let me, which is nice I guess. They say, “you’re the kid. If anyone helps anyone it should be us helping you”. But I’m one person. They’re five, and two work with not enough pay. And it’s cruel of them to not accept my help and then say they don’t have the money for Mom to visit. I know it’s not really cruel. It’s just how it feels to me. Because my feelings count, right? They don’t really need to, and maybe they shouldn’t. But I want them to.

Portraits: Measuring My Life In Relation To Concrete Experiences

ordinarybutloud

Lambs: when I was an awkward, unpopular, ex-patriot kid living in England, we took a very long driving vacation through Scotland and Wales in a rust-colored Audi station wagon. Along the route, we saw lambs cavorting on hillsides. For hours and hours, I saw nothing interesting (I was in third grade, after all) but lambs. They were like sweet little dogs, but sweeter and littler. Then my mother served lamb chops with mint jelly. I did not eat lamb that night, nor ever since.

A few decades later, I saw Silence of the Lambs. I was unmoved by the story about the lambs. I asked myself, what does this mean? I decided it meant I had long ago accepted the reality for lambs.

Lions: Last week, on the first night of an expensive vacation to Orlando, I sat at an overpriced resort restaurant with my mother and my…

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