Friday, 28 October 2011

  • Two days in a row... Say what?

    Maybe if I use this as a side bar window I can write my speech on asylums? Speaking of, Zach decides to text me this afternoon asking me that if he's going to send Autumn money that he asks that he be allowed to call three days a week.
    "Hey its zac. I would like to send u some money but i would like to atleast be able to talk once in awhile"

    "To Autumn, sure. That's more than reasonable and something I have been more than encouraging."

    "i didnt mean just autumn u know that. Im only askin for 40 min of your time. Is that so much to ask?"
    uh... yes the fuck it is. In case you didn't notice, I wasn't in Robyn's vagina, so coming back to me when your life is the absolute shit I tried to keep you away from, isn't going to make things bettter by having a conversation on the phone.

    "When are you wanting to call?"

    "3 times a week maybe? Now that i have a contact num we can figure times when im not at work. Think about it. U where my best friend once apon a time i cant ignore it anymore. Just think about it. Ttyl."

    Bullshit. These calls will last at most 10 minutes. I don't have time for this bullshit anymore.

    I'd say I'm done with the drama. But here I am caught in this bullshit with another person. I find myself liking them and they are really recprocating the same feelings, so I bailed out, and yet here I am talking to him again, texting him and giving in to what he's wanting. Someone hand me a gun to shoot myself in the foot with.

    Oh yeah, I was supposed to be researching why Asylums should be brought back.

Thursday, 27 October 2011

  • Do you celebrate Halloween? Why or why not? If you do, how do you celebrate it?

    I celebrate Halloween through my daughter. I don't dress up because well, I am in fact, 24 years old. The only people my age who dress up for Halloween these days are slutty kitties or playboy bunnies. -I have a mom body, so it doesn't work. Darn. And I was hoping to have someone post me on their wall of shame.

    So I celebrate usually by carving the pumpkin, watching AMC and other Halloween Marathon channels. I light candles that smell like cinnamon and pumpkin spice. I open the windows to let the smell of burning yard work, and I take walks in the afternoon where the leaves are falling. I love the temperature in the fall season. x3

    Continuing the torture for my daughter this year she'll be wearing the usual tutu and converse combination. She's a mermaid this year, and last year she was Princess Aurora (Sleeping Beauty) and the year before she was a Bumblebee. : D

       

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  • Time to start blogging again : /

    A drop in the ocean, a change in the weather
    I was prayin' that you and me might end up together.
    It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert... -Ron Pope

    Of course I watch that trashy Vampire Diaries show!
    I guess I could explain my absence since what? 2009? Early 2010?

    Let's do a quick run down - Again.
    -December 2009: Left my sister in TN to go be with Zach who was living with his new 'girlfriend' Ashley Le-slut-ski (Yeah, I just name droped that cunt!).
    -January 2010: After I found out Zach's mom was paying people to drug me, and then trying to catch me "abusing" my daughter on hidden cameras, I took off for awhile doing my own thing with Autumn.
    -February 2010: Somehow ended up back with Zach when on Valentine's Day he dropped to my knees and begged me drunkenly to come home to be with him. Blah blah Blah, I'm stupid, just keep reading.
    -March 2010: After moving in with Zach and his friend Dave (total sexist prick who I'd like to shove a lit candle up his ass) and his family, Dave's wife decided to start some shit and I didn't want to deal with it, so I moved Zach and Autumn back in with his mom.
    -April 2010: Easter, Autumn got enrolled in daycare, a pretty uneventful month.
    -May 2010: Nothing happened much.
    -June 2010: Zach decided to beat the hell out of me when I told him I wanted to leave him, so I had him put in jail. Less than a week later, Donna did the same after I told her what I thought of her while she was drunk. No cops were called for that one. A week later I moved into the Domestic Abuse house with Autumn and the next night Zach was arrested for Grand Theft and Burglary charges.
    -July 2010: Zach released from jail, and I moved back in with him (shut up! I know!) at this point I had found out I was pregnant with my son, Sean. That he had had a twin, but during the fights the month prior, I had lost the other baby.
    -August 2010: I started working at Hobby Loby full time, going in some mornings as early as 4am and getting home as late as 11pm.
    -September 2010: Zach proposed, I said yes, there was celebration while my ankles were rubbed by someone. I turned 23 and Autumn turned 2.
    -October 2010: Zach and I were robbed by punk ass Jesse Kitchens (let me catch that tiny little fuckface, I'll kick his ass this time as I'm not pregnant with grown men holding me back)
    -November 2010: Donna decided she and her friend Maria had all rights to treat Bob and his daughter like trash and blew shit up one night, then decided Zach and I were better suited for living in a motel room. God damn it only gets worse folks.
    -December 2010: Did I mention Zach had a pill problem all year long? Yeah, that bitch Ashley got him hooked on heroine pills and then split like the whore she is, leaving me to deal with Zach abusing me and constantly stranding my 8 month pregnant ass everywhere. But finally there was that light I had been looking for:

    Sean Ethan William Mercer was born on December 23rd, 2010 3:40pm at Halifax Medical Center in Daytona Beach weighing 8lbs and 2oz. He was the most beautiful baby boy I have ever lain my eyes upon.

    So the New Year came in with Zach taking my engagement ring and selling it for pills and me never seeing it again. He was due for jail for skipping felony probation and I was due for getting the hell away from the constant drama and stress, so after making a few calls to Zach's dad and explaining everything, I packed me and the kids up and headed to South Carolina on the first of February.
    After enjoying a nice drama free spring, Jimmy, me and the kids packed up and moved into a larger home setting for the kids and dog to spread out.

    July 2011: Zach got released from jail and sped up here in his truck and arrived one morning asking to be with me and the kids. I let him through the front door.

    Two weeks later, my son died of a gastrointestinal/urinary tract infection. I blame Zach and Medicaid combined. Whatever - don't talk about it, because quite frankly, yes, your brother died - but atleast you got to know him. Sorry you miscarried, but you never even had to have any real feelings for your child looking you in the face and shining with an emotion no human being had ever shown me like that little boy did. Sorry if I hurt your feelings by minimalizing your pain and suffering, but right now, I could give two shits about anyone but my son.

    As soon as my son was cremated - Zach took a peice of him and hit the streets straight to New York. From what I understand right now, he's homeless, he scrapped the truck that he bought with his inheritance, and is delusional - minus the fact that he constantly tells people he doesn't want anyone but me. Funny, how mch he wanted me when he was sleeping with the town pill head, Robyn Cole. (Name dropping like a SOB I know!)

    In the meantime, I have been going to Trident and trying to move on to newer guys.
    Let's see,

    there was the guy who was really really nice, but he was older than me and still plays dungeons and dragons. : /
    then there was the guy who piled into my car with a buttload of dogs and was upset with me when I freaked out after being threatened a nice hefty fine for having dogs in a park without a leash.
    the guy who I went to the beach with and then asked me if I would be a friend with benefits. ((pause))
    that one was actually pretty interesting - except the deal was, I stop being such a girl and put emotions aside.
    I debated that one for a day or two, until a friend from my zumba class gave me the advice to try it atleast once (the friends with benefits thing) and it was going really nice, until I realized I could seriously end up liking this boy - has his shit together, has a job, a future, got the whole family scene going on - doesn't need me that often. freaking awesome, right? wrong. I did agree to keep the emotion shit out of the scene and as soon as I realized that in time I'm going to find myself liking this guy and wanting a relationship that he doesn't,     I told him I couldn't handle it anymore. -atleast he was decent enough to not my reasons and just let it go. Makes for less drama. ((unpause))
    then there was the guy who I let my daughter go on a playdate with his daughter - he's nice enough. we won't go into details on that one though - the story is undecidedly unfinished so far.

    So I bought a car (Ford Focus 2001), I am going back to school for Commercial Arts and Visual Graphics, I am raising Autumn through the high waters and hell, I'm helping out at Autumn's daycare when they need me, sometimes still volunteering with the Mental Health woman (Guess that's the Tennessee Girl in me), doing Zumba (occasionally instead of actively now), dating, and just getting shit done.

    I know the hard times are going to pass. I am very grateful for Zach's dad swooping in and helping me get that break from the constant robberies, and the constant drug abuse and drinking and petty bullshit drama. I am going to be someone someday, just not now. I know my daughter will grow up and love me more than anyone else can imagine at this moment. I know one day that stupid white knight in shining armor is going to show up and sweep me off my feet (pfffft!) and I know that atleast one friend reading this is going to click the X in the corner after realizing "And I thought I had a shitty time going on right now" and to me that actually makes me feel better knowing someone else caught that break. : D

    <3 you guys.

     

Tuesday, 15 December 2009

  • Christmas

    Last year, I had a wonderful Christmas. Best Christmas in my entire life. I had a family, consisting of me, Zach, and Autumn. We were happy, we had enough money to buy presents for everyone in our family. We woke up around 6 am, opened presents, and went back to bed to sleep in.

    This year? Same as every other Christmas than that. Charity case. I hate it. It's what makes me hate Christmas more than anything. Before you read anything further, realize this is a "Pity Party for One."
    First off, I was raised in foster care. The first few years weren't so bad because I stayed with the same family, and only knew Christmas was about getting presents. Whoopee! But then as I got older and had anger issues, I was tossed from one family to another, and Christmas became an issue. Imagine your Christmas like this:
    Christmas Morning, you wake up, but the rules are: "stay in bed until there is an adult who is awake." Once someone is awake, you run to the tree, and realize you have three presents compared to the child that belongs to the family's twenty two presents. And if you're not smiling big enough, you're sent to your room without the presents until you can appreciate it when the New Year comes.
    Christmas Dinner comes along, where you either go visit the family or the family comes to your house party. Let's say they come to your house for the dinner. So as the family members arrive one by one, as they walk in, they're handing you coats and bags to put away designatedly. Time comes for dinner, and the topic being as a foster kid: "What did you do to have your parents send you away?" And explaining, "I was four when I was put in foster care. I didn't do anything wrong." And then the family speculating in front of you what a bad person/parent your parents must be for your kid to be put in foster care.
    I usually skipped dessert usually.
    Presents. So the family gathers around after the dishes have been put/thrown away. And it's time to hand out gifts. Usually, as the foster kid, my 'parents' saw fit that I hand out presents while they entertain, and their kids run through the house as though a fire is chasing their asses. Handing out the presents isn't so bad, if you've met at least half of the family before Christmas. Otherwise, the family members whose names you have to ask who they are, give you an impatient glare as you locate them and give them their gift. (As though Aunt Peggy looks like a Peggy and it should be automatically known to the world. These people always made me feel like shit sometime during the night in some way to get back at me.) Handing out presents seems like it'll last forever, until finally, you dwindle down to the last of them.  Everyone quiets down as they start ripping paper off presents and making inside the family jokes, like, "Ahaha! Bobby! That's not funny, you know that toilet incident was an accident!" as they pull out some stupid toilet toy. So funny, yeah...
    Then as I usually made my way to my pile, it was about five bubble bath/sponge baskets, all smelling like rotten fruit and someone always bought one of those huge bathroom mirror sized boxes of make up. The one that has fifty different lip gloss pallets that each last maybe three applications, forty blushes/eye shadows, but you can never tell the difference, and a mirror that breaks the first time you open the see through glass case. Yeah, one of those.
    Of course, I think one of the things that bothered me along with all of the above mentioned was, I was just some kid who was there as clean up crew/drink refilling/errand runner/messenger to the person across the house who I have never met before, and my favorite, the kid whose name no one could care to remember; I loved opening the gifts that had the sticker on with my name mispelled: Catelyn, Caitlyn, Kaitland, Catlin, Catherine, or some other horrible butchering of my name. I'd rather not get anything, than just some five dollar aforementioned gift that you didn't put time in or know who it was going to.

    The worst Christmases came after I turned 18. The State of Tennessee considered me a burden no more. I was old enough to have a job, but didn't. So when friends or other people got me gifts, I felt like shit because they'd invite me to their house for the Christmas dinner, and there I'd be, being awkwardly introduced to family members who looked embarrassed to have come without anything for me. That's okay Aunt Pearl, I'm a bum anyway, I didn't bring you anything either.

    Then I met Zach. For our first Christmas, we stayed home for the majority of the day, then went to his mom's boyfriend's house, where we gave her a dvd and we all sat down, watched it. Had dinner, went home, went to bed.
    Our second year together, at least I had someone to feel awkward with. We woke up, opened presents and said some I Owe You's and spent the day at his friends' in the middle of nowhere. No one questioned us, and I even got a few drinks, so I forgot most of the night.
    This last year tops my charts for an actual good Christmas. We woke up early with the baby and opened presents and had the money to give presents ourselves. I knew everyone that came for dinner and was able to give gifts to them as well. We sat around talking about the past year and Autumn. We went to bed on a happy note, and I didn't run one errand for anyone.

    Starting Thanksgiving I knew to dread this year. And I still am in a way. I might have to meet an entirely new family. I used my saving money to buy small gifts that I know I might get hell about, but I felt that I would die of shame if only my daughter got presents labelled from me and my nephews got nothing from me. I feel it's only right that if my sister and her husband put even a piece if candy towards me that I give back after everything they've done for me this past month and a half. And maybe the hell will be worth it.
    I am tired of feeling like this epic failure though. I hate that I don't know anyone. I hate that there is no stability in my life and I don't want Autumn to grow up hating the holidays like I did, but I know she'll experience in a weird, terrible, but wonderful feeling depending on what time in her life she experiences it.
    With me and Zach being seperated, he'll compete with me. He and his mom, both. He'll get her for Christmas and he'll buy her whatever I bought her, but ten times better and he'll vie for her to live with him majority of the time. I can't stand that thought. That my daughter might end up hating this almost as much as me, if not more than me because she'll hate me as well for all of this. I'm not assuming anything here. I know kids of separated parents and they'll tell you they hated the parents competing and having to celebrate twice as much when it could be simple like normal people and just have one big Christmas and everyone getting along. Not fighting behind closed doors about who gets her when and how long and who gets her what for how much.
    It's just stupid and pointless and unavoidable because it's the uncomparable holiday for almost everyone I have ever met. It's a year round expression for meaningless surprises, "Merry Christmas, asshole. I took your shift for 4th of July." or "Here's that memo you wanted so badly, Merry Christmas", even though it's Valentine's Day.
    I hate it plain and simple. I hope this year I can just get by with a smile and hope no one notices how much I'd rather be ice skating in the bottom of pond.

Sunday, 13 December 2009

  • Law Abiding Citizen.

    I rate this movie with two thumbs up. There were so many predictable placements in this movie, such as, "Who is your partner!?" Silly Future DA, we all know there is NO partner!!! But how? I won't tell you why.
    So here's the point of my post other than ruining a moment in a movie for those who haven't enjoyed it yet; Movies/Actors/Families/ME as a Stupid Kid.

    When I was a kid of about maybe 5 or 6, I was fascinated with Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Especially the kid snatcher. He terrified me. I had never seen anyone with a longer nose and such green skin. I would swear he was real and fast forward through parts in the movie that had him. Now as an adult, I know all about movies and props and costumes.

    At this same age, when I listened to the radio, say a country song. Let's say for example a Donna Lewis song came on. I loved her voice, so in my mind she was absolutely gorgeous, whoever she was. I also imagined that she was at the radio station with every other singer on the radio, and they took turns singing into the radio microphone. Gay and stupid, I know. But in my mind they were in line singing songs then partying it on at the radio station, because in my mind the radio was all one big station somewhere and singers lived there and sang.

    This all also went along with in my mind, in movies, the families were real families picked up at the mall or wherever. Example, let's bring a modern day movie and place it in my child mind. "I Am Legend" For some reason this movie reminded me of this childhood fantasy. Will Smith has a family that dies. As a child had I watched this movie, I would have thought that the scenes were his daughter is a baby, really was his baby. That they stopped filming the movie until his daughter was older and then they shot more scenes for the movie and waited until she was older. No idea these kids were all different actors. I also thought movie stars were miracle baby makers. Example continuing with Will Smith: He has also played in Hancock and Men in Black. I would have assumed that he had two girlfriends, one dead wife from zombies, a daughter who died, alien friends and that Tommy Lee Jones really did fight bad alien crime with him when he wasn't making movies. Stop laughing!

    I think the most outstanding memory I have of a movie being relatively real was a traumatizing moment I had when I was about 7.
    It was about Halloween time, and my foster mother had rented the movie, The Client by John Grisham. She was a HUGE fan, so it's the only way I remember most of the information. For me she had rented "Raggedy Ann and the Sad Pumpkin" Yes, I remember that too. TRAUMA people. It tends to implant useless at the moment crap.
    Anyways, so I'm watching my movie when I hear loud suspenseful music playing in the living room. Who wouldn't go peek?
    It's at this scene where this boy is running around in a jail cell and sweating and running around in circles and falls to the floor. "Why is this kid flipping out?" was somewhere along my thoughts. So I inched closer to the room, staying hidden behind a couch arm.
    The scene continues where a policeman enters this cell and takes the kid's pulse and yells out something along the lines of, "Call an ambulance! Jesus! His heart is going to explode!"
    I was SEVEN! 7! The age after 6!
    I ran screaming from the room. I was NOT going to stick around to watch some kid's nasty bloody heart pop out of his chest onto the floor and go BLAM! like a bomb. Gross!
    (Rewind here: The scene is actually where a kid witnesses a murder and they're holding him in a cell until questioning to testify in court. Terrified he's going to be killed or worse, he runs around the room and fakes a heart attack to escape...Makes more sense as an adult and after reading the book!)
    So here I am, sitting in a  room full of music and Raggedy Ann singing with a pumpkin in the faded background, "...No one picked me! I'm so sad! I will pick you! We'll be happy!" But all I can see when I close my eyes, is this kid with his eyes rolling in the back of his head and his heart jumping out a la Jim Carrey MASK style, but exploding.
    I sat there for about twenty minutes, atleast until my movie ended chanting to myself with my ears covered by my hands, "It's not going to explode. He's going to go to bed after a bowl of cereal. He's going to live. They took him to the doctor to fix him. He's alright. He's at home right now... HE'S GOING TO EXPLODE!!!" After twenty minutes of trying to console myself, I failed. My foster mom had to soothe me for three nights in a row, even after fast forwarding the movie to the end to show me the kid lives.


    And finally, my irrationality as a kid played out by Arachnaphobia. Jeff Daniels, I hate you for your acting so scared of spiders.
    After watching this movie, I was so terrified of spiders that I had this plan. Ingenious I thought.
    I would wrap myself up in a blanket so tightly, no spider could ever get in. And if one did, I would be sleeping sitting up in a chair by the fireplace and if a spider got on me, I'd throw myself in and set the spider on fire.
    I'm waiting for you to stop laughing.







    Okay. So I didn't think that one through. It took a month of my foster dad making a bedtime routine of dusting the ceiling in my room before I would enter and checking every surface in the room to assure me there no spiders. As an adult, I just use shoes to kill the little suckers. Or I scream and call for help or avoid the room it is in by all costs.

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