Reason to Believe

I spent most of my New Year's Eve sorting through the junk in my room. I am a serious pack-rat who is trying to stop her hording tendencies. I guess you could call that one of my "New Year's Resolutions".

Unfortunately tonight I'm having a "New Year's Disillusion". Being at home alone wasn't exactly how I had planned to spend this evening. And there is a chance that I may talk myself into hanging out with my friends instead. I think this pack rat is trying to hibernate in her cozy bed of random stuff and the memories they are attached to. So much junk. So many painful memories. What a waste of a year.

But I know that is just me being pesimistic, and as soon as I'm with my friends I will be laughing and having a great time. I think I'm just scared. I feel completely unprepared for the tasks that are ahead of me. Yet somewhere, underneath a thousand layers of fear, I have a faint and distant memory of a time, only a month or two ago, that I was brave and ready to start a new adventurous life. I was really looking forward to the possibilities that this new year would bring, but now I am terrified.

I guess that's okay. There are many stories in the bible about people being afraid. Being afraid is only bad when it paralyzes you. That's why I have to keep moving.

I pray that you all have a fun evening.
Happy New Year, everyone.

"It's been a long December and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last..."

Not The Best Idea

I called him today. I was listening to NPR at work and heard that there is a fire in Oklahoma that has destroyed some homes and killed a few people. My ex-boyfriend lives in Oklahoma and I was worried about him and his family. So like an idiot I dialed him up. To my surprise, he answered.

I quickly and quietly rattled off my crazy concern about fires taking over his home. He replies angerly through his teeth "We're fine." I laugh a soft nervous laugh, "Okay... I was just worried." After a long, uncomfortable pause, he sternly replies, "Good-bye." We hang up.

I continue with my work, wanting to smack my own forehead for calling about something so stupid (that could have been looked up on the internet). Gosh he does have a sexy voice, though.

A few minutes later my phone rings. He is more angry. Angry isn't even the word for it, actually, he was furious. He precedes to rant for almost twenty minutes straight, during which time he shared with me:

1) I am evil
2) He is not evil
3) I am not allowed to call him ever again
4) I am to send him his things immediately
5) I am not allowed to call his family ever again
6) I am evil
7) Even though I broke up with him, I still should have moved to Oklahoma as a friend to support him and his family.
8) We are never going to be friends, I lost that right
9) I am supposed to apologize and say that I was wrong for breaking up with ("abandoning") him at this time
10) I am really REALLY evil
11) I am not allowed to love him
12) I am not allowed to care or worry about him
13) If I should choose to try and get back together with him I must be willing to admit all of the above
14) His house will be done in February, and I may have a chance of still getting married and doing all of the above.

It was a horrible phone call. It was an unnecessary phone call. I do not intend to repeat it. I listened, agreed with some things, disagreed with some things, and that's that.

Well, some friends just arrived to steal me away for the evening. Thank you for letting me vent. I only hope that someday he comes to understand why I broke up with him, and maybe we can be friends.

I still miss him.

Alone.

My roomates are gone until next week leaving me to guard our 3 bedroom castle alone. But I am no more alone then I was before they left - alone in my mind, anyway. I haven't been blogging. I've barely been expressing the thoughts that are going on in my head to anyone but God, and that's only at night when I crawl into my bed to go to sleep.

Alone. I hate that word. I hate this feeling. And it's not going away anytime soon - at least not the alone I'm talking about.

I've gotten over much of the anger that I was holding toward my ex, and now all I'm left with is... nothing. Nothing but a swirling haze of vague images that periodically float together and form heart-wrenching memories.

We used to take showers together - not those kinds of showers - just "please pass the soap" and "how was your day?". I take very long showers and often he would climb out before me, wrap up in a towel, and sit on the toilet seat cover until I was finished. When I finally climbed out he would have my towel ready. He'd open it up, wrap it and his arms around me and pull me onto his lap. Then he'd hold me tight until I stopped shaking and caught my breath (climbing out of the shower with my small lung capacity is not always easy). His short hair would be soft and damp and I'd glide my fingers over it. The water would make his long eye lashes look even longer and darker, bringing out the most beautiful green eyes... eyes full of gentleness and affection. Then he'd pick me up and carry me to his room, wrap me up with blankets and we'd cuddle and kiss and watch movies.

I really love him, and memories like these have been hitting me hard this last week or two, but please be assured that I have no intention of ever dating him again. I'm just looking forward to dating some new people, when I'm ready. I'd like to make some new memories, so that I will stop worrying that I am going to be alone forever.

Well, that's all my time for this evening. Sorry that I am not writing so well, but I figured if I didn't write something then 1) I may never wite again because I'll keep putting it off and 2) my friends will continue to bother me about not blogging.

Goodnight.

Pretty View (continued once again)

So I'm still working on this song, and it is driving me crazy. The tune is constantly in my head, yet I still am unable to complete lyrics. At least I have the music all written. Hopefully this week I will head over to my friend Mike's who has some recording equipment and get it laid down. That'll be so awesome - my first song being recorded! Of course we'll just be laying down the music, no vocals. But that's okay, it'll just be nice to hear the music I hear on my head coming out of a pair of speakers. I'm very excited!

I'll definitely set up a link so that you can hear it once it's done! Aren't you excited?

Girl With a View (continued...)

Still working on this song. I changed some of the music to make the chorus and verses flow into each other smoother. Here's part of the adaption:

I put on this dress for you
And if you like the view
Then please don’t leave me standing here
When I pass your way
I rock my hips, and sway
And pull my fingers through my hair
Try to pretend like I don’t care
That you don’t see me standing here

Girl With a View

My lunchtime at work is almost over, but I've been working on that song I started last night and I wanted to post part of it. I wish you could hear the music, but hopefully someday I'll be able to include that. For now, here are some of the lyrics. There is more, but I'm having to change most of it because my chorus and verses are switching places and blah blah blah...

I put on this dress for you
and if you like the view,
then please don't leave me standing here
As I pass your way
I rock my hips and sway
But you don't see me standing here

Oh so lovely
I'm oh so lovely
Such a pretty view
I'd be oh so lovely
If you'll love me
Your own pretty view

Pretty View

I just realized how late it is, and I must dash off to bed. I lost track of time working on a new song, titled "Pretty View" and talking to a friend of mine about absolutely nothing (my favorite subject).

This, of course, leaves no time to blog. I will return tomorrow, though, and post my song. Have a good evening, everyone!

Spider-Killing Training and Procedures

I wrote this blog a few weeks ago and forgot to post it. Here is a story of a true hero, my boss.


Today I was standing in my office, staring into space. In the corner there was a most ferocious looking spider. I wanted to squash it, but I was both afraid and guilt ridden (poor spider!). Not to mention I was wearing slip-on shoes, and the safety of my toes could have easily been compromised. I've watched the Discovery Channel - this fellow was definitely of the flesh-eating variety.

Lost in my internal torment, I began to go into a daze. I was alone in the office - everyone was working in the field.

It was just me and him.

Suddenly I heard a voice, causing me to jump and gasp. It was the Executive Director of our company. She was standing there looking very professional, but with her grandmotherly approachability.

She apologized for startling me. As to not appear like I was being unproductive (after all, she did just walk in to find me standing away from my desk, eyes glazed over, staring into a corner) I nervously laughed and said, "It's okay! I was just standing here trying to figure out exactly what to do about this spider."

(Wow. Alicia scores 0 compentence points for the day).

Without a word she walks by in her 4 inch heels, steps over the power cord from my portable stereo, and stomps down on that wild beast of a spider. Unfortunately she misses, and the spider runs behind my cabinet, but I try not to think about that part or else I'll go crazy wondering where it went (or more importantly, where it is today). But I was still amazed. It was as though the First Lady herself had come to my office to help me blow my nose, or something.

As she left I was still nervous, words stumbling from my mouth. I said, jokingly, "There is no doubt in my mind that you have been fully trained to be our leader." She laughed (whew, thank goodness).

Waiting

Being someone who does not drive and therefore must rely on others for transportation, I have spent much of my life waiting. Whether it be for a bus, a friend, a family member; in the heat, the cold, rain or shine - I wait. I wait a lot.

As a matter of fact I am waiting at this very moment.

And this moment.

And this moment.

And this moment as well.

Work is over, and everyone in my office left long ago. They all climbed into their vehicles and rode off into the sunset, leaving only me and the cleaning crew. On most nights I can get a ride from someone in my department, as they are all very generous. But today a friend of mine offered to pick me up and I accepted, even though I knew she may not be able to reach me by 5 o'clock. I try to alternate my "bumming" as to not wear out my welcome with any one driver.

I am so tired of waiting on other peoples' schedules, and I am equally tired of burdening those around me with my needs. I mean, support is a wonderful part of friendship - but come on, it's time to take care of this task on my own.

One of my friends is going to be taking his driving test for his license tomorrow, and I am so jealous. My official classes do not start for a few more weeks. But I'm getting myself mentally ready.

I WILL DRIVE.
I WILL BE INDEPENDENT.
I WILL GET A MILK SHAKE WHENEVER I WANT, BECAUSE JACK IN THE BOX IS OPEN ALL NIGHT.

I can hardly wait.
But I have to.

NOT FOR LONG, THOUGH!

Questions to think about: What's something in your life that you are currently anticipating? How do you think it will change your life for the better? For the worse? Is it worth it?

"Son, sit down..."

Yesterday was my ex-boyfriend, Dalan's, birthday. We dated for a year in high school (I was a freshman, he was a junior). We remain friends who speak throughout the year and visit each other during Christmas time.

I called him yesterday to sing him his birthday song, and remind him that I do care. I am almost impossible to get ahold of at times, because it takes much mental energy for me to speak to some of my old friends. Therefore, I do not always return their calls so quickly.

When we were dating back in...oh... '97?... Christmas time came, and I was invited to a family get together. It was a birthday/Christmas-tree-aquiring party. The weather was awful that day - it poured and poured. It was my first time going to a Christmas tree farm where you actually got to chop down your own tree. We all stood in the rain and froze while Dalan's little brother took an ax and whacked away.

I remember there was this little cousin of Dalan's who was the same height as me, probably about 7 years old. She and I had the same short, blond haircut. At one point she walked up and stood next to Dalan. I was behind them in the kitchen and noticed him naturally reach down and put his arm around her. I smiled to myself, knowing that he had mistaken her for me. Luckily back then I would never have let a guy grab my butt or anything, so the girl was safe. I walked around them and stood by one of his other relatives. He looked over after a couple minutes, smiling calmly, then suddenly realized "Wait, if that's Alicia...?" He looked down quickly, patted her on the head in an embarrased fashion, then walked over to put his arm around me.

We spent the rest of the day cuddling on the couch. It was nice.

When I got home my dad was getting ready for work. There was never much time to talk to my dad in the evenings, or ever really. I briefly told him that I had a good time, and that I needed to go take my socks off. It was still raining outside, and my socks had gotten wet again. I walked toward our laundry room, pulling off my socks. My dad went crazy. He started yelling, his face scrunching up in his signature angry scowl. He threw his arms up in the air. When my dad gets mad he stutters, so angry that he can barely get the words out. Waiting for those words... so much anxiety was created, waiting. I wished he would just throw it out there quickly, curse me out, get it over with.

This particular fit, although I know differently now, was supposedly about my inability to listen. He thought I had walked around in wet socks the entire day, and was going to catch pnemonia. He launched into, "I don't know why I bother telling you things Alicia! No one in this fucking house listens to me! You and your mother do whatever the hell you want! I'm not going to fucking say anything anymore!"

And he didn't for almost a week. I came home a few days later to find a Christmas tree standing in our living room. Every year since I was born we had picked out the Christmas tree together. I was heartbroken. This was an ugly tree, but I guess we were an uglier family.

The day he started speaking to me again we walked down the street to watch the Lathrop Christmas parade. For those of you who know the size of Lathrop, you probably can imagine the extravigance of their Christmas parade. On our way back to the house he said he was sorry, and then proceeded to tell me about the Bible's view on the manner. "The man is the head of the household, Alicia..."

Respect. That's what me and my mother were lacking.

During one of my father's rants, probably a couple months later, he became upset because he had not yet met Dalan. Dalan didn't drive at the time, so the we only really hung on campus before and after school. This blowout was the worse I had seen my father. I was alone with him, my mother was still at work. Out of the blue he became furious that Dalan had not been presented for his approval. He yelled at me for some time, then continued yelling off and on as he walked through the house. From his room in the back I could hear him throwing objects, and slamming the walls. I just sat in my room, waiting for it to be over so that I could receive my directions.

I always became quiet when he was angry. I tried not to show any emotion. Sadness, laughter - any reaction that I made would cause more anger, and it would take that much longer. Sometimes even a lack of reaction became offensive to him. "Say something, Alicia! What the hell is wrong with you?"

When Dalan showed up the next day my father was getting ready for work in his bedroom. Dalan sat down on one of our couches, next to me. My father came into the room, and in a friendly, yet stern manner, held out his arm for a handshake. Dalan took his hand, and stood up politely. My father's head moved backward as he rose. My father is 5ft7in and Dalan is well above 6ft. My dad, caught off-guard, stared upward and continued to shake his hand. Then, after a moment, he nervously said "Uh.. Son.. sit down..."

Happy Birthday Dalan. Although things with my father are much better now, this is still a funny memory for me. Thanks for letting me see my father shake in his boots for a minute. It was a nice site, at the time!

Come and Go

Men, they come
And men, they go...

I was with this guy for seven years
He knew all my thoughts
And all my fears
But I guess somewhere we went wrong
I woke up one morning, and he was gone

Tell me where did my baby go?
He’s probably off chasin’ some hoe
‘Cause if there’s anything in this world I know
It’s men, they come
And men, they go
But I still miss my baby so

I met a guy the other day
Who asked me to come out and play
What was right tonight,
Felt so wrong
I woke up in the morning, and he was gone

Tell me where did my baby go?
He’s probably off chasin’ some hoe
‘Cause if there’s anything in this world I know
It’s men, they come
And men, they go
But I still miss my baby so

Here he comes
Now watch him go
Playin’ his game
His little one man show
Nothing you can do
It’s just a natural flow
‘Cause men, they come
And men, they go

Men, they come
And men, they go
Men, they come
And men, they go
Here he comes,
Now watch him go
Men, they come
And men, they go

But I still miss my baby so...

Beary Bittersweet

I often miss the feel of my old house in Milpitas. I lived there until I was 10. It was a four bedroom house and one room, which I dearly enjoyed playing in, was called the "t.v. room", because that is where our old, wooden relic of a t.v. had been banished to. Anything that did not have a place in the rest of the house was banished to this room, and by the time we moved it was completely covered with wonderful treasures. Once I created a tunnel underneath it all, and began using the mountain of objects as a fortress. Ahhh, back when clutter was entertainment. Today it is only stress.

But before this room was taken over by... well, everything... it was a nice room where I would play, read and listen to records. And, for one summer, my favorite record was Raffi's Christmas Album and my favorite books were the Berenstain Bears. I was pretty young, and I really enjoyed the fact that I could read them on my own. My mother had a day care in our home at the time, and it made me feel so much older and more mature then the other children, being able to kick back and read a book. What could they do? Play with dolls? Play in the sandbox out back? How childish. How preschool.

When I see Berenstain Bears books in the store, or on my roomate's daughter's bookshelf, it takes me back to that old house, and creates conflicting feelings. Sad and sentimental, safe and empty. The familiar square shape and plastic cover brings about a smile, and a tear.

That's how I felt yesterday, upon hearing the news that Stan Berenstain, co-auther of the Berenstain Bears children stories, had passed away. He was 82.

"Christmas time's a comin',
Christmas time's a comin',
Christmas time's a comin',
And I know I'm goin' home..."
-Raffi Christmas Album

Questions to think about: What were your favorite stories growing up? Do you own any of them today?

Late Night

Another day of very little productivity. I was thinking about staying up late to finish working on some stuff (hence the title) that I'll probably get chewed out tomorrow for not having completed. However, I have decided that no task is worth getting sick over. And if I stay up late I will most definitely get sick - everyone around me is dropping like flies, the last thing I need to do is make myself susceptible.

Instead, I am going to go to sleep.

Today was a truly awful day, and the fact that I think this was a truly awful day tells me I need to spend more time with someone who has a better idea of what "truly awful" looks like.

Goodnight. Thank you for reading my whining.

Moving Into the Driver's Seat

Once again it is my bedtime and I will only be writing a short blog. Thankfully my reader (hey Glo) is back, so all is well in the world.

Today was, in a word, unproductive. I was already dragging through my work days before my nice four-day vacation. So now trying to focus on filing and meeting minutes is just completely rediculous.

However, I am pushing myself to not flake out and quit. I do not plan to stay in my position forever, but I do not want to leave for the wrong reasons. I want to leave because I am moving on to something better, not because I would rather write all evening and sleep all day.

In the past I would have bailed out. I quit school in order to pursue my photography career. Unfortunately all I accomplished was watching a lot of television and sleeping (and sleeping, and sleeping).

I think once I am able to drive and I get my vehicle secured things will really open up for me. I even wrote a list today of all the things I am looking forward to doing once I can get around on my own, and on my own time.

Have guaranteed transportation to and from work
Have guaranteed transportation to and from school (if I should begin taking classes again)
Have guaranteed transportation to and from photoshoots
Have guaranteed transportation to and from the store
Have guaranteed transportation to Dr. appointments
Meet more people
Do more servant evangelism
Go and visit/pick up my friends/family when I feel like it
Go and check out our local museum
Go to plays and other productions
Go home on my lunch hour
Go anywhere on my lunch hour!
Scope out new sites for photoshoots
Go to the photo shop to have my prints professionally printed/mounted
Go to the library
Go to open mic night
Go buy food when it runs out
Go rent a movie
Go to a drive in

There were many more things on the list I wrote earlier. But the point is that my life has been severly limited by my fear of driving and procrastination in this area. I could have gotten my car situation cleared up a long time ago - made all of the appointments, got all of the adaptions. I let stupid things like my fear of asking for rides to the DMV and lessons, and my disabilities get in the way. No more excuses. I've got to get out of this house! And I want to do it on my terms, guilt free. No more bumming rides and feeling like a burden.

This list is so pitiful, really. When I typed "go to the local museum" i almost cried. I've lived in Stockton for three years, and ridden by that museum many, many times. I have friends who live 20 minutes away who might as well live in another country. The things on my list are so base, yet I have been denying myself the simplist activities for years. Six years.

It's time to get this taken care of. Lori, my roomate, is taking me driving once a week. My official lessons start on January 2nd, and I am so excited. My goal is to get my license by February.

Questions to think about: In what area(s) of your life have you let excuses get in the way? Why do we make excuses? How does this effect us? How does this effect those around us?

Soooooo Sleepy

Well, it's 10:30 and definitely time for bed. I didn't accomplish much today, I don't know why I am so tired. I feel like I did physical labor all day long.

In reality all I did was sit around and watch a friend of mine try to get his two kids to pose so that I could take a few pictures. Yeah, that didn't happen. His kids are really cool, but they were not having it today. They did, however, enjoy taking pictures with my camera themselves. They were cracking up, taking pictures of everything and nothing. It was fun to watch them.

I finally got a couple good shots of the girl once everyone else had given up and wandered off into other parts of the house. I used a trick I used to have to use with my roomate's daughter, Charlotte - you can take a few pictures, then I'll take a few pictures. Another good trick is to let them see the pictures you're taking every few shots or so. That's part of the beauty of digital. If you let them see how the pictures are turning out as you go they often rush back to take another one, or 10 if you're lucky.

Asking kids to sit down for a typical Sears photograph really isn't my thing. I like candid shots. That's why taking a kid out to the park or somewhere else fun is usually the best. But it was too cold today, so we attempted to take pictures in the house. Unfortunately, as I mentioned before, they weren't having it.

The pictures that the little girl (she's 6) took of me are quite funny, and I actually love them a lot! I told her father that he needs to get her a camera for Christmas. If I can gain the energy to download the pictures onto my computer, perhaps I will post a couple... All right, let me go get them.

Hmm, I think my favorite is the first one - my head cropped off so all you can see are my unusually long arms and legs, the dog lying curiously on the floor.

Well, it is time for me to go to bed. I must return to work tomorrow, this little vacation is over. It was a nice break - I wouldn't say relaxing, but nice. And now as I think about returning to my office I am filled with hope for the day that I am able to spend my days doing photography and writing. Ahhh, won't that be nice?

Oooops.

I was sitting down to write a nice long blog when suddenly I remembered I have a photoshoot first thing in the morning. I'm going to be taking holiday pictures of some close friends of mine.

I posted a song a little earlier that I started writing a couple days ago and then finished today. I know my songs are not the best, but if I keep plugging away I'll hopefully tap into something and write a song worthy of performance.

I've been exposing myself in many ways recently, and one of those ways is sharing things that I am working on before I have deemed them "done". It's that perfectionism - it makes it to where I can not share something until it is to my satisfaction. And unfortunately I am not easy to satisfy.

This is also why I am forcing myself to blog without checking for errors, because I know I will tear it apart!

Well, goodnight. I will share with you again, tomorrow.

Letting You Go

Glad to see that you've moved on so soon
Found someone new so easily
I know that you are mad at me
And think that I'm so crazy

You tell me I am cold
That I have sold out to the game
You blame all our problems on me
In the stories you tell
In the stories you tell
Tell, tell
While I'm wishing you well
And hoping you’re well
Well, well

Does it make you feel better
To say the things you say
To forget about your role
In the games we’ve played
Does it make you feel better
Does it make you feel better
Hating me so

I’ve got to let you go

I love how you forget how you
So quick, so quick
To follow your dick
So quick, so quick
Your memory lost
So tell me

Does it make you feel better
To say the things you say
To forget about your role
In the games we’ve played

Does it make you feel better
After all we’ve been through
To yell in my face and say
I don’t love you

Does it make you feel better
Does it make you feel better
Hating me so

I’m letting you
Letting you go
Oh, oh
I’m letting you go
Letting you go

Shopping Exhaustion

I am super tired, and at a loss for words tonight - probably due to the seven hours of shopping that started at 4:45 AM.

It was a lot of fun, I think I got a few nice things. I honestly didn't buy much, I just enjoyed going from store to store with my roomates.

I think I may have bought more if I hadn't experienced the true meaning of Christmas at our very first stop. While waiting in line at the first store, Circuit City, Charlie Brown's Christmas was playing on a huge flat screen TV. I couldn't hear it, but I watched the scene where Charlie Brown and Linus are walking through the Christmas tree farm, and looking at all these neon colored trees until finally they come accross the little tree with practically no branches or needles. It just put me in the right frame of mind. If you haven't seen "A Charlie Brown Christmas" then wow, where have you been? And more importantly, GO WATCH IT NOW. It's a classic.

Because I am so exhausted I'm not going to say much tonight. I just want to force myself to keep the routine of blogging every evening, even if it's brief.

Anywho, happy shopping-day-after-Thanksgiving to everyone! And Merry Christmas!

Thankful for Thanksgiving

I don't have too much time to talk this evening, as I must be up at 4:30 AM for some morning-after-Thanksgiving shopping (also known by my friend Adam as "suicide shopping").

But after my blog yesterday about the holidays, I just wanted to say that this years Thanksgiving felt really nice. In the past my mother and I have been invited to many celebrations, but it always felt like we were a couple orphans being taken in by other caring families.

However, this was the third year my mother and I have spent Thanksgiving with this particular branch of our VERY large family tree. So this year it started feeling like a holiday should feel like - tradition!

I spent a majority of my visit with two of my cousins. We spent an hour trying to figure out exactly how we are related... my mom's cousin's uncle's grandma's aunt's children. lol. Okay, I actually think they are both 3rd cousins. My mom's cousin's children. They are both so cute!


One is named Laura. She and I have hung out at family reunions since we were little. I have pictures of us playing in the horseshoe pits and chasing ducks around at the lake. She is pretty awesome.








The other is named Adam (not to be confused with the Adam mentioned earlier). He is really nice, and accidently thought I was 24 so he is A-okay in my book, lol. This, of course, being a great compliment since yesterday two different people mistook me for a 12 year old.








And this is the gnome in my Aunt Ruby's garden. He didn't have much to say, but he rocks.





I have so much I want to say. I've had a lot on my mind, which I'm sure is common for this time of year, and I really want to express all of these various thoughts and feelings. Unfortunately my time is up for this evening, and I must go to sleep.

There are a million things that I am thankful for, but number one tonight is the fact that I am going to sleep happy. I haven't ended a holiday with a comforting closure in years. Thanks for being a part of that.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Christmas

I don't even know where to begin. I have so many things that I want to talk about, but none of it is very interesting. Just some random thoughts, most of which I have already expressed to the people who ordinarily read my blogs. I may get a little scattered, so try and keep up.

I can not wait until the day after Thanksgiving, when I can finally start playing this holiday mix I have put together. Every year I create a Christmas CD that is sort of... I dunno, Christmas to me. It has some Charlie Brown's Christmas, some Christmas songs to a dance beat, some Trans-Siberian Orchestra (Christmas tunes with an electric guitar - come on, it doesn't get much better then that). But creating this CD is usually the only part of Christmas I really partake in. I don't make great plans... I just have my mom come visit, and watch my roomates' daughters open presents.

I used to go up with my parents to the mountains for Christmas. Growing up, I loved that trip. My great aunt and uncle lived in a small house, but it had a huge patio that was enclosed with 1/2 high walls with big screen windows. There back yard would be covered with snow, and lead straight into rows and rows of trees. It seemed like a huge forest at the time, only now I think that may have been my young imagination. But we'd see deer, and drink hot cocoa, and build snow men. My favorite part was getting to sleep in my sleeping bag out on that porch. It'd be so cold, but toasty inside my bag. I'd go to sleep shivering, but wake up so warm that the cold air would feel wonderful against my skin. And even though we were hours away from home, Santa was somehow always able to find us. Back then my great grandpa was alive. He would sit in his chair quietly, rarely speaking. But looking back I realize how much he loved for us to visit, and I remember that every year he would buy me a new dress.

One year we went up for Christmas, and my great grandpa had to be in a home. He came to the house for a while, but my great aunt and uncle could no longer take care of him twenty-four hours a day. I remember going to say goodbye to him in the home. He looked the same as always, straight faced, quiet. My grandmother, his daughter in law, said "We love you Frank" as we were leaving, and to my surprise he said "I'm glad someone does." I was shocked, I never knew my great grandpa had feelings, I mean, he always sat there, I never really thought about it. I felt so awful that we had to leave.

That's the last time my parents and I saw him. I'm not sure if we had any more Christmas' up there, but I don't think there were many more. We started doing Christmas at home. So pretty much it was the end of Christmas. Even more so, once my parents separated.

The last several years... probably since my sophmore year of high school, in 1999, I have felt like a drifter during the holidays. I've had holidays with my mother, with my father, with both, with friends, with other family, alone. My roomates have really included me, as much as possible, but still... I just don't have a place. And I feel worse for my mother. I can't imagine what it's like being married, having someone promise to be there forever, and then sleeping all day alone on Christmas because you had to work the night before. That's what she did last year. Last year I was supposed to be in Oklahoma with my now ex-boyfriend, and my mother was supposed to be on a cruise. Both of our trips ended up being canceled, but I don't remember why we didn't end up together. I do know, however, she has vowed never to do that again. It was too depressing.

I know a lot of people feel lonely during the holidays. Part of my sadness this year comes from knowing that I was only a "yes" away from starting my own family, and instead I said "no". I know this was the right decision, but it's still tough knowing that the lonliness was so close to ending, and now it will continue. I will be invited to 50 holiday events, but none of them will feel like cocoa and snow, sleeping on a porch in the mountains, worrying that Santa won't know I have temporarily relocated.

But while I have felt like this for years, I still have some excitement about the upcoming holidays... I have a little Christmas spirit creeping into my vains. But mostly, I am excited about new years. I feel like this year was a complete waste. If you wiped it from my life's record, I'm not sure you would even notice. Okay, lets be fair to myself... I have grown some, and at least I have made this decision once and for all. However, I am ready to put this year behind and move on to the possibilities that await me.

I'm looking forward to doing more creative work, taking some major steps toward a new career.

I'm FINALLY going to be learning how to drive! My roomate, Lori, is taking me out this weekend to practice, and my first official lessons start January 2nd! Talk about a great new year's resolution!

I'm also looking forward to healing more, and perhaps dating for the first time in.... wow.... 7 years? Gees. I can't wait to get out there, meet some new people, make some new friends.

Speaking of which, my roomate has recommended that I make some more friends who are girls. That is tough. Most girls drive me insane.

Well, it is time for bed. I will be taking the train to Merced tomorrow, my mother and I are going to see some relatives for Thanksgiving. Of course I will be back tomorrow evening, so that I have plenty of rest before my early morning shopping spree! And I'll be playing my new Christmas mix all day!

Old News

I saw myself walking down the street yesterday
Caught a glimpse of myself,
It was something about the way
She moved

I thought hey that girl
She might not know it
But what she’s thinking
I’ve already wrote it
Old news
There’s nothing she can do that ain’t
Old news

There’s only one woman walking ‘round this world today
She may have different ways of playin'
the many games she plays
So smooth

But hey, hey girl
You may not know it
That candle you’re lightin’
I’ve already blown it
Old news

I said hey, hey girl
While your grass is growin'
The weather here is already snowin'
Old news
There's nothing you can do
You're so smooth
But there's nothing you can do, that ain't
Old news

Good Guys

“It’s a sign,” I told myself, while riding down the street last weekend. I laughed gloomily at my accidental pun. “Well, of course it’s a sign.” Large words ran across the front of the local Good Guys building. “GOING OUT OF BUSINESS,” it read, declaring the company’s financial state to those driving up and down Hammer Lane.

This was not a surprise. I have known for some time the company was closing its doors. Weeks ago I read in the newspaper that they were unable to compete with another company, CompUSA, and were going bankrupt. But the words meant more to me then the end of a business I was never the customer of in the first place.

It was only one day after I had broken up with my boyfriend of seven years. I was, and continue to be, depressed, mourning the loss of a very important person in my life. Part of grieving for me, as it is for a lot of people, is wondering if I will find someone new. Will I be alone forever? Is there someone else out there for me?

These concerns were among the many doing the cha-cha over my relationship’s metaphorical grave when I looked up to see my fear displayed in bold letters:

“Good Guys – GOING OUT OF BUSINESS.”

Could it be a sign? Yes, yes, I know it was a sign. It was a literal sign announcing the Good Guys misfortune. But was it also a sign of my misfortune? After all, most of the guys I meet, like this store, have discounted themselves for quick liquidation (Okay, that pun was intended).

I could hear the TV announcer’s voice:

“Better act fast! All potential mates will be gone soon. Their morals and self-control have got to go! Come on down – they’re just giving it away!”

There was a time when I would have wandered down to see what kind of deal I could find. The goal in bargain shopping? Pay less and get more. I have often chosen someone because they were within my price range; I didn’t feel like I deserved what I really wanted. I always stayed safe, thrifty.

To give more of myself now and step out of my comfort zone will be very scary. I could risk losing what little investment of self-esteem I have left. Most of my emotional savings have been depleted from frequent withdraws and smaller, less frequent deposits. I must be willing to save up for what I know I want.

What I want is a relationship built of durable, spiritual material that will hold up to wear and tear. My reservations about the quality of my last relationship partially explains why I kept my ex-boyfriend on layaway for seven years, only to let him be restocked.

After purchasing several relationships from the discount rack only to have them faded or shredded after two washes, I have finally realized an important shopping truth that applies equally to dating – you get what you pay for.

I do not feel ready for the department store (in my case a bigger church, with a wide selection of potential mates), or even the home shopping network (internet dating). Still, I look forward to the day when I meet a "good guy", and will be courageous enough to feel like I have a chance with him.

Despite preparation and planning, no relationship comes with a lifetime guaranty. It will be expensive - a risk on both our parts.

I am sure, however, that it will be worth every penny.

Be Virtuous

Patience is a virtue, so they say. Please practice some until I get things in order, and actually post a new blog.

It has been far too long. Shame on me!

I'm actually in the process of writing two right now, but neither are ready to put up. One is about living parallel lives and the other is about being spoiled. Unfortunately, both are topics I am quite familiar with.

As for the week, it has been unproductive. I did help out my roomate, Lori, which was fun. She is a music teacher, and I took some pictures of her students in order to sale at a performance. I might have another gig, as a result. I'm always looking for a chance to use my camera, even if I do have to take pictures "old school" style (film).

On a similar note, I said to my friend yesterday, "You have to use 'old school' entertainment - imagination". These days you don't have to imagine anything, you just have to look for it on the net. Somewhere someone did it, made it, wrote about it, made a multimedia presentation about it, is selling it.

Well, I'm off to bed. Got a busy weekend ahead of me.

Wow. Awkward.

My last blog, Bathroom Meditation, contained what my friend Bill calls "hu-mor". Several people have read it and, as a result, laughed. I even aquired my first official reader - that is, someone who has read (and commented) on two of my blogs in a row, who isn't family, friend or otherwise an aquiantence. Thanks Glo, nice to have you here!

This is all quite pleasing to me, but it does create a small problem - NOW I HAVE TO DO IT AGAIN.

Well, at least that's how I've been feeling. But the idea that I have to perform is exactly what I do not want my blogs to be about. So instead of putting off writing, thinking that I need to have another story, I figured I'd just get the next blog out of the way. Release the pressure valve. I will even go so far as to fill it with complete nonsense.

BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH OOOOOOOOOGA OOOOOOOOOOOOGA CHA CHA CHA TANGO BANGO ON A SHANGO! WHAT'S A SHANGO? I DON'T KNOW! DA DA DA DOOBIE DOOBIE SHOOBA DOBBA DOO DOO FOO GOO TOO.

With that aside, I will hopefully be able to relax and let things happen naturally. I'll be writing again soon.

Questions to think about: In what areas of your life do you feel the need to perform? How can performing be positive? How can it be negative? How does pressure affect your performance?

Bathroom Meditation

Here’s a little known fact about me – I almost always wait until the last moment to use the restroom, especially at work! I don't know why I do this. It's something I don't notice at first, but I will reposition myself in my seat, wiggle and squirm until finally I reach the point where it becomes questionable whether I will make it to the restroom in time. Then I rush to the drawer where we keep our bathroom key, scurry down the hall, through three heavy fire-safe doors, and shove my key into the bathroom lock.

Now there are three stalls in our bathroom:

1) The handicapped accessible stall with the door that must be locked by pulling it closed from the bottom with one hand while turning the lock with the other.

2) The middle stall that I avoid entirely because it always has tissue remaining in the toilet. I like to live in a delusion where I am the only one to use a stall, and tissue is evidence of previous occupants.

3) The stall with the door that naturally hangs in the closed position.

Normally I would use the handicap stall. After all, a closed stall door usually means there is a person or, worse, a “present” inside. And we have already gone over why the middle stall is not an option. This would leave the handicap restroom, but if there is anywhere it is completely rude to use a wheelchair accessible stall when I do not utilize a wheelchair, it is at my work (right up there with the special Olympics). Being inconsiderate of people with disabilities – talk about a good way to get a bad name around our office.

This is because I work for a non-profit agency that helps people with all kinds of disabilities. In the back of our building is a huge room where a “Day Program” is held for people who are severely handicapped – many needing assistance with every daily function imaginable.

While many of the Day Program consumers (yes, we call them “consumers”… I don’t know why, but people find that odd) require changing in a private area in the back, some are able to use our facility’s rest room. On several occasions I have watched a mobility aid hoist a woman out from a wheelchair to a bathroom stall, and then wait patiently until it is time to help her back in. There are also consumers who share our rest room that are not incredibly disabled physically, but have mental impairments.

The department I work in is down a long hall, three fire-safe doors away. Although I do not visit the back room often, I do walk down this hallway in order to use the restroom. Of course I never take this distance into consideration while I’m doing “the pee-pee dance” around my office. So when it’s time to go, I go – quickly.

I walk into the bathroom and switch on the lights. With two of the three stalls being off limits, I am left with no other choice but to chance it with the closed stall. I rush, my bladder threatening to let go with each step. Yet as I walk across the dingy tile floor there is a moment of hesitation, and a strange worry always pops into my head:

What if someone forgot one of our consumers in the bathroom…?

I love to analyze things – it’s what makes me a difficult girlfriend but a halfway decent writer – so as I sit there, “doing my business”, I create a little scenario in my mind that, I believe, explains how such a situation could possibly occur.

Lets say a mobility aid is helping a consumer make the transition from her chair to “the chair”. Another consumer with, perhaps, a seizure disorder is in the stall with the perpetually shut door. There is some difficulty with the consumer in the wheelchair accessible stall that requires the mobility aid’s full attention, and temporarily the other consumer is forgotten. Normally the woman in the third stall, being physically capable of using the facilities on her own, would come out from the stall, wash her hands, and exit with no assistance. However, this time she has a seizure, but does not fall from her seat. The mobility aid, being focused on the situation with the consumer in the wheelchair, forgets temporarily about the other woman. As the mobility aid helps return the consumer to her seat and then out the rest room door, she assumes the other consumer (who is helplessly stuck in the third stall, and unable to communicate) has already left. The aid shuts off the light and closes the door behind her. The consumer is now sitting alone in the dark. I walk in minutes/hours later, flip on the lights, open up the stall door, and discover the consumer sitting on the toilet, unconscious.

As I’m pondering on this hypothetical situation, my first reaction is, “Wow, that would be freaky. But at least they would be discovered, and helped.”

But then I start thinking about it more. Here comes me, rushing into the bathroom with an overfilled bladder. I open the door, ready to dash inside, and instead find an unconscious consumer with her pants down. What is the likelihood, at this point, that I would NOT urinate all over myself?

At this realization, the next thought to instantly pop into my mind is a silly solution: Instead of walking directly to the third stall, from now on I should quickly use a different stall first, then check for the consumer afterwards (of course at this point in my analysis the idea of ever leaving the bathroom without checking the closed stall for comatose consumers is no longer an option).

I am surprised by this response. If I were to put off a potentially serious situation in order to avoid embarrassment, it would be incredibly selfish of me. I spent the rest of my ladies’ room experience and my walk back to the office taking an inventory of my values and priorities. I could possibly rationalize with something like, “It was just a pretend scenario that you made up,” or, “Even if it really did happen like that, another minute wouldn’t hurt them.”

But I don’t want even a small part of me to think it’s okay to let someone suffer for one minute, particularly someone who I have promised as part of my work to look after the best interests of, just because I want to save face (and my pants).

So now when I enter the rest room, whether in a hurry or in leisurely fashion, I always open the door cautiously and prepare myself (particularly my bladder) to be startled. Will I be urinating today, or saving someone’s life (or both)? All I know is that I’d feel a lot better about myself with wet pants then with clean ones, if it meant that I had helped someone in a scary situation.


Questions to think about: Are there people or situations you avoid in order to avoid embarrassment? What does your vanity cost you? What does it cost others?

Exploring Disappointment

I was at work today, catching up on filing that should have been done months ago. I was looking at the large amount of work in front of me and I was disappointed in myself for letting things pile up like that. I started thinking about disappointment - is it a useful, or not-so-useful feeling? Then I started to question the experience all together. Why did I feel disappointed? The answer is that the expectations that I have for myself (and perhaps others have for me) are not currently being met.

My roomates have a daughter who is one. She has many toys, and they are everywhere. If at the end of the day her toys are not arranged neatly in her toy basket no one is disappointed in her. Why? They had no expectation that she would do so.

I told my roomate this evening that if someone were to call me tomorrow and tell me I had not won the world series, I would not be disappointed. I am not a baseball player - far from it. When I play baseball I usually just swing, hit the ball 2 feet, and a pre-selected runner dashes for first base in my place. So why would I be disappointed?

If I heard that someone had won the lottery, I would be a little disappointed. I do not buy lottery tickets, but I do have a small expectation that, if I should purchase a ticket, there is a greater chance I should win than if I do not purchase one. It is a small disappointment, because I am able to rationalize with such things as: "There is SUCH a slim slim slim slim chance of me winning that it is not worth my dollar". But still, I would feel a tiny swinge of disappointment.

This lead me to think about dreams that people make for their lives - how they expect things to turn out. I started thinking about people who live for nothing. People who say they believe there is no God, no reason for existence except to exist for a short time. Or people who waste their lives, and say things like "This is just how it is".

I hear their disappointment, their hopelessness. But if these things are true, why would they feel so horrible? Where does our desire, our expectation for a life of meaning and purpose come from? If we were not made to feel that way, why are we disappointed? Why aren't we like my roomate's daughter, off to bed as carefree as when we first woke up?

I think it's because God created in us a desire to really live our lives to the fullest - to not settle for a humdrum life.

With that said, I should now quit my job, and start hitchhiking accross the U.S. with a suitcase and a new camera. Think I can find an AC adapter for my C-Pap?


Questions to think about: Is there anything in your life you are currently disappointed about? How is disappointment a positive feeling? How is it negative? Why do you think we experience it?

New Road

I was alternating between the living room and my bedroom this evening, trying to find some activity of value that 1. Did not require any brain power and 2. was reasonably entertaining. I ventured into the den to see what my roomates were doing, hoping for some inspiration, and found Bill lacing up his shoes. He was on his way to have coffee with a mutual friend of ours. I invited myself along, being too bored to have manners. I did ask if he minded, and wasn't sure if his "Yeah, it's fine" was genuine, but nevertheless I tagged along.

We were sitting drinking our overpriced Starbucks beverages when I decided to step away for a few moments. Afterall, I had invited myself so I thought it would be polite to let them have a some time to talk without me there. So I walked around the building and onto a sidewalk that runs between it and busy Pacific Avenue. It was dark, except the lights from the Starbucks and cars wissing by in both directions. As they passed I could feel the weight of the air tip my balance slightly. It's a little exhilirating, standing right next to a busy road. Not sky diving exhilirating, but still, the feeling that a large moving object is zooming by so closely that its proximity makes you blink, and question your balance for a moment, is an interesting one.

When I looked into the blur of lights I was transported back to another roadside I had once stood at, staring into the same speeding sight. I was 15, and very depressed about my lack of control in this world. I have always had a strong sense of responsibility for the care of my friends, and at that time I was so frustrated with not being able to save them from their problems. My friends were on drugs, drinking, cutting, sleeping around. I did what I could - I stood up for them, I listened to them, I took them in whenever they needed it. But there came a point where I realized that they were not going to stop. Some of them still haven't.

Then there were the friends who were being beaten, raped, taken advantage of. Once again I did what I could - I reported to counselors, to CPS. Still none of their situations changed.

This was also the year that we were instensly learning about the Holocaust. The books we read, the pictures we saw, the movies we watched - they affected me deeply. We even had a survivor come and tell her story to us. Afterwards I just sat in my chair as everyone else left. I wanted to talk to her, and did briefly. This subject was overloading me, and I was almost pulled out of my class for the remaining weeks.

The issues with my friends and these horrific stories all lead to my overall feeling of hopelessness about the world. Finally I was pushed over the edge.

I had a friend named Sean who was very special to me. He was an awesome person - the type that people were drawn to because he was so accepting and kind. He was also emotionally tormented and harmful to himself. One day he was in class and started screaming that the walls were closing in on him. In his panic he tied himself to his chair and hid under it. He had to be forcefully removed. When I heard about this it terrified me.

What could I do?? This wasn't external. This wasn't a little drugs, or even a lot of drugs. This was my good friend flipping out. Whether it was for attention or not for attention - either way he had gone to a new level. I didn't know what to do. Nothing made any sense.

That night my fairly new friend at the time, Caleb, dragged me to youth group at church, and man I hated it. I just sat there listening to "Don't do drugs. Don't have sex." I couldn't take it anymore, so I walked outside. I walked around the building to where there was a little bit of grass. There was a fence, and on the other side there was a brown dog.

The church building was right next to a busy street. I walked towards the street and stood next to it. There was no sidewalk, the road just ran right into the dirt ground. I stared into the blur of speeding cars. What was the point? Why even live if you can't make a difference in this world? If you listen, and you love, and you protect, and you lecture, and you try everything else that you're your young mind can imagine, and still no changes?

Hopeless.

I started crying and walking back toward the church. But the closer I got the more I kept crying, until finally I stopped moving. I turned around and faced the road. "I should run right into that street," I thought, "Just jump right in." So I started running. I could feel the adrenaline kick in and my anxiety level rising. I got closer and closer. I reached the dirt edge and was about to step onto the gravel when suddenly I heard, "bark bark!" from the dog on the other side of the fence. I stopped immediately.

There have been several times in my life where I wanted to kill myself. My friend Matt once told me that once you consider suicide an option in a crisis then the option will present itself during every trial you go through after that. Matt was a wise guy. But the truth is, I have never actually wanted to kill myself. Sure, I have thought "I want to die!" but I don't think I have ever meant it. Not even close. I was not rushing toward traffic to die, I was rushing toward an end. I wanted my pain to be over. I wanted my friends' pains to be gone. But I didn't want to die - it was merely the only guaranteed end to my struggles that I could see at that moment. Besides, if I had really been set on death, wouldn't it take more then barking to stop me?

And it did stop me. I cried. I cried hard. Everytime I opened my eyes and saw the road I began to cry again. Then I turned to look at the church, and cried harder. Finally I wiped the tears from my face and caught my breath. I walked back towards the church, not wanting to go back to that trivial meeting. I saw the adult meeting in progress, and sat down on a seat in the back. It did me a lot of good to hear adult conversation.

I can't remember exactly how it happened, but I ended up speaking one-on-one with the youth pastor in his office. His name was Roger. I started crying again, and told him that I didn't understand why bad things happen to good people. I don't know what I was expecting, but what I got was the first practical explanation that I had ever heard.

A man is driving down the street, when another car pulls alongside him on the left. The car on the left decides to drive off the cliff that is to the right of the highway, and abruptly veers accross the other lanes, hitting the first car and two others along the way. Free will. Guy on the left makes a choice, which God allows him to do. His choice affects other people.

I had many other questions. Not only would he give me practical answers, but more importantly he'd show me scripture. I started visiting him regularly, when I was feeling lost, and I am very thankful for that time.

Standing beside Starbucks, remembering that evening, made me think about how much I have changed since then. Once I stood in front of a road, upset because I could not stand my circumstances and could not see any other choice. Tonight I struggled in front of a new road. But this time I stepped away from the curb with no desire for its answer. I now know that God has infinite answers to everything I am dealing with, both seen and unseen. I also know now that I do not have to be so over dramatic in my pain.

I turned around and returned to my friends, thankful for where I am right now. I may have a lot of things that I deal with, but I find comfort knowing that a brown dog can appear anywhere and at any time. Not only will it appear, but I can seek it out for myself. I do not need to go looking for pain, dwell in my pain - I can seek out scripture, or friends to talk to.

Same Old Sin

I wrote this today and will be sharing it with my friends tomorrow evening.

Same Old Sin
By Alicia Mellinger

Hello Lord, it’s your old friend
Another day, the same old sin
I know I said I’d never do it again
If they only knew how my day has been
And why I do the things I do
No one understands, but you

Save me, Lord
From my own skin
Won’t do it again
I won’t do it again
The part of me
That sometimes wins
Won’t do it again
I won’t do it again

Hello Lord, my only friend
Another year, the same old sin
I always say I’ll never do it again
If they only knew how my life has been
And why I do the things I do
No one understands, but you

Save me, Lord
From my own skin
Won’t do it again
I won’t do it again
The part of me
That sometimes wins
Won’t do it again
I won’t do it again

Save me, Lord
Save me, Lord
Save me, Lord
Save me, Lord
Save me, Lord
Save me, Lord
Save me, Lord
Save me, Lord

Save me, Lord
Get beneath my skin
Make me clean, again
Make me clean, again
You are the Lord
You always win
But I do it again
I still do it again

Save me, Lord
Save me, Lord
Save me, Lord
Save me, Lord
Save me, Lord
Save me, Lord
Save me, Lord
Save me, Lord

Poem in Process

I meet myself on the street every day
Hear my voice from others' lips
At the store or on the subway
You may think I'm a stranger
No one you know or ever knew
But the more I learn about myself
The more that I know you

Cuts Alicia Time in Half

(Title once again created by the slogan generator)

I just too some time to respond to my friend Bill's blog called "slowing down" about how people are always in too big of a hurry. I won't be writing my own blog for this evening, as I am going to be getting up earlier than usual. But please check out Bill's page and read my comment while you are there.

After reading, here are some questions to think about:

What is the pace of your life? Do you have big ups and downs? Why do you switch back and forth?

Are you always on the go? If so, why? What can you gain? What are you losing? Is it worth the time and energy spent?

Always sitting around? How does that feel, living in a society that moves so quickly?

Steady paced? What's the secret?

How does the pace of your life relate to your spirituality?

Give That Man An Alicia

Once again the slogan making machine, which you can access on this page by clicking "yourslogan" under "my links", shoots out another eerily appropriate blog title, describing perfectly the current mindset of my sweet boyfriend, as well as the topic for this evening.

My boyfriend.
Lonely.
Depressed.
Back in Oklahoma taking care of his sick father.
Working in order to support his family.
Frustrated emotionally,
physically,
and, oh boy, is he frustrated sexually.
All he wants (although he'd say "needs") is for me to move there.

His family calls out . . . or, actually, calls me on my cell phone during work hours. Come on people - 8 to 5, everyday - it shouldn't be that hard to remember) . . . saying, "GIVE THAT MAN AN ALICIA!"

If I love the guy so much, have complete sympathy for his position, and miss him terribly, why aren't I out there? Why don't I just marry him?

Those are good questions.

In fact they are SUCH good questions that it's costing me $25 bucks a week to sit on my shrink's orange sofa and chat about them. You know, those orange or yellow sofa's that all people over 60 own (ooo, or those red printed sofa's with the country houses on them)? I could save a fortune by just visiting my grandmother more often.

The problem is I have trouble sorting out my opinions from other people's. I have been programed, from experiences growing up, to keep up an act so that everyone around me will be happy. My father had a horrible temper, so my mother and I became the sweetest most giving mother and daughter team in the world. Only we eventually became giving in the way someone might give a large peice of meat to a vicious animal - toss and run! Because as Sigfrued (or was it Roy?) will tell you - tonight's show tiger can easily become later tonight's reason for a visit to the emergency room.

I learned at a young age how to tell people exactly what they wanted to hear. Unfortunately this has severly damaged my relationships, because I have falsy presented my feelings and desires so much that I don't even know what I'm feeling anymore.

I also have the guidance of several wise, well-meaning friends and family members who have a wide assortment of opinions ranging from "Wow, you can do so much better" to "Wow, can I be your bridesmaid?" All of them, however, assure me that it is ultimately my decision, and I need to decide what I want to do for myself (and God, of course . . . the only person whose opinion I desperately want to sway my decisions).

The best advice I've heard from my seat on the big orange couch (and from coversations with my friends and family) is that the choice is mine, and I do not even have to make this decision right now. The decision to marry and move off to another state should not be a rushed one.

But I do worry about my boyfriend. How long can or will he wait for my decision? Just as I typed that question I thought of my friend, Ken. He once told me I needed to trust that God was going to take care of JR, my boyfriend, and that it was important that JR trust in him more than me. I must remember this at times when I speak with my boyfriend, and he sounds so depressed and frustrated with me for not having an answer that I just want to fly there and save him from his sadness.

Since my boyfriend has returned to Oklahoma and started settling in (he bought a house two days ago which will be done in February) I have felt a lot less pressure and things are becoming more clear. Hopefully more clarity will come with time. Perhaps I could skip the $25 dollar installments and switch to the lump sum payment where the shrink just tells you what you should do and it all makes sense. Wouldn't that be nice.

Questions to think about: What part do others play in your decision making process? Whose opinions have the most weight in your life (God, family, friends, co-workers, the media)? What is the biggest decision that you have ever had to make? Who did you consult in order to make that decision?

*Special Note: I was only joking about his family disturbing me at work! People do call to chat during my work hours, and it does bother me, but not his family members.

Alicia Unscripted

I was just using this goofy site called "The Advertising Slogan Generator" where you type in a word and it puts that word into a famous slogan. So I put in Alicia and the title of this blog came out. Fitting for my first real blog on this site. The last one was just something to throw up quickly and start my real blogging later.

I may have fooled you again, though, as I am lacking the brain power necessary to type anything of meaning. Who knows, maybe I'll stumble upon something. But don't hold your breath.

The thing is I have a very difficult time writing out my feelings. I have no trouble, and my friends will definitely vouch for me on this, communicating my thoughts and feelings verbally. In fact, I am the queen of "blah..blah...blah". But writing is much different. With talking my mouth opens and the words just come. It's like that sometimes with writing, but with a million times the scrutiny. I pick apart every sentence before I've even finished typing or writing it. At least with typing I can flow a little easier, but still. I'm also torn between the excitement of sharing my thoughts, ideas, and experiences and complete fear that what I consider to be interesting or worth sharing is other people's guaranteed cure for insomnia. See, I just stopped my flow and edited that last sentence three times! I'm sure if I looked at it again I'd change it completely. Heck, if I reread the blog I would probably erase the whole darn thing.

Okay, I'm new to this blogging stuff and I've decided on a rule: I will not edit. Oh man, after I typed that I really wanted to delete the word "not" and make it capitalized. But no, the corrections have to stop somewhere. And by corrections I mean the self-critizism.

Is self-critizism even a word? Speaking of which, I learned last week that the word "vendorized" is not actually a word at all, at least according to Microsoft Word. Crap, I edited that last sentence. Wow this is going to be difficult. Okay, nevermind. New rule: No spending more than a few seconds rewording a sentence. No one is grading this. Heck, no one's reading it yet either except my friend, Bill. Hi Bill!

This desire to tear everything I write apart has really limited my creativity and made me completely unproductive. That's why I've decided to take up blogging and hopefully get into the habit of writing for writing's sake, not to impress anyone.

We'll see how that goes.

Questions to think about: Are you a perfectionist? Do you let critizism stop you from doing something that you enjoy? Are there things that you do, or do a certain way, for the approval of others? What part does perfectionism or performance play in your spiritual life?

I Ain't Found Those Lifesavers Yet

Hank Williams Jr. fans should understand my title's reference. My sitting here writing a blog at 5:3o in the morning when I should be sleeping proves one thing - old habits are hard to break.

Now where did that CD go to? Sing it to me, Hank!