Helena Handbasket: May 2009

I probably shouldn't be Blogging during "Shark Week" - however...

... I blame iTunes. It's been a while since I've gone through my old music but tonight, the shuffled playlist seemed to find all the right songs; I listened to a few tracks from Sarah McLachlan and this particular song spoke to me.

"I Love You"

I have a smile
stretched from ear to ear
to see you walking down the road

we meet at the lights
I stare for a while
the world around disappears

Just you and me
on this island of hope
a breath between us could be miles

Let me surround you
my sea to your shore
Let me be the calm you seek

Oh and every time I'm close to you
there's too much I can't say
and you just walk away

And I forgot
to tell you
I love you
and the night's
too long
and cold here
without you
I grieve in my condition
for I cannot find the strength to say I need you so

Oh and every time I'm close to you
there's too much I can't say
and you just walk away

And I forgot
to tell you
I love you
and the night's
too long
and cold here
without you

After listening to sentimental, downright mushy music and thinking about where I am in life at this very second.... I feel peaceful, content, and fortunate.

The other day...

....I forgot how old I was. Really. I wasn't sure if I was 33 or 34. And yes, I was completely sober.

Vintage: Invasion of the Diary Snatchers

The other day, I rifled through old boxes and pulled out some of my journals from years ago. MAN, I was an angry teenager but behind the anger was a lot of hurt, disappointment, and fear. I'll start posting excerpts from my old diaries in an effort to immortalize them - we'll see how long this lasts.

*In keeping with the spirit of Mortified, proper names will be changed but no sentences will be added, omitted, or reconstructed.

She has reached an all-time low. Mom snooped around in my room, read my diary, and found some poetry she didn't understand so she started making all these assumptions and cornered me. I gathered up about three year's worth of that shit and put it in the fireplace. I burned it right in front of her and SHE had the nerve to get upset. I cried quietly as I watched the pages burn. Those were MY words, MY private thoughts, MY drawings, MY poetry. I don't even know why I'm writing anymore. I don't feel safe and I don't think I ever will. Mom, if you're reading this, I hope one day you feel as betrayed as I do now. Doesn't feel too good, does it?

About a week later, she bought me a briefcase with combination locks as a peace offering so I could secure my journals but I never wrote as much after that. We talked about this incident a few years ago - she told me she regretted reading my diary and how it broke her heart to watch me destroy all of my journals. I kind of wish I hadn't burned them - there was a lot of cool stuff on those pages. I understand why she did what she did - she was concerned because I was becoming more and more withdrawn back then. A few months later, I moved to NJ with my aunt and uncle - a move which probably saved my life.

When Twitter and Facebook just won't do...

I used to Blog on this site years ago. I recently read some of my old posts and was... well... mortified, which coincidentally is the name of the book I'm currently reading (thank you, WW).

So don't expect a lot of posts or updates (I say that now). Most of what really matters to me is documented via pen and paper. Yeah... I'm old school. Sometimes, I feel that juuuuuust a bit too much is revealed through Facebook and Twitter; but when I really think about it, it's all just fun and games, right? And how pretentious of me to assume anyone is reading this besides yours truly? I don't plan on advertising this Blog as I did in the past - whoever stumbles across it, cool.

Let's carry on and let the Blogging resume! Or not...

Updated: Monday, July 27, 2009

I'm addicted again, thanks to my Blogging friends who have encouraged me to keep writing. Until the novelty wears off, I shall continue to flood the net with more fluff about my so-called life.