If I Were You- Colin Raye

This is a great song. It's beautiful. I'm a huge fan of Colin Raye's. Grew up on his music. My mom is a huge country fan, so, naturally, I am as well. This song just entered my head this morning and wont leave. I love that someone put it to CSI clips of Greg. Great show.

Anyway, I'm not sure if I am driving down to Ark. or not. I tried calling my Da to see if my sister and her bf can stay there because she can't stay here with me yet. We are having a few issues with the park manager here, she's a real bitch...so, until dad answers his phone, I can't take off. It's going to be a long day. Almost noon and it's a six hour drive...Why isn't he answering his phone??!!! He doesn't go anywhere or do anything. He is usually up by nine or ten...I hope he's okay...

Suicide and Pedophiles

Sometimes it feels too late...I'm having a particularly bad day. I don't know why. Work was no fun tonight. I don't think I like the new store hours. We used to close at eleven on friday nights, now it's nine. Between ten and eleven it was always slow, so I could get everything done. Now that we close earlier, the store is still busy, and I haven't the time to do everything that needs to be done. I'm still making espresso drinks five minutes before we close and wondering if I'm ever going to get to change the trash- something that should have been done a few hours before close...between a busy night at work, stress and depression, and the hunger pangs in my stomach because I forgot to eat lunch, it was a bad night. And I got a call from my sister who lives in Arkansas. Her bf's stepdad is an evil ass! They're living there with her bf's mom and stepdad, and it can go on no longer. It was hard to make out what she was saying on the phone on my drive home tonight, but he tried something with her, and I want to kill him. No way is somebody going to mess with my little sister. Thank God I have the whole weekend off work, I'm going to go down to Ark and get her. Don't know where I'm getting the gas money for this, but I'm bringing her home. Men! God, I hate them. Are they all like this? My dad, my dad's friend, my step-grandpa, my step-brother...it goes on and on. I know too many girls who were molested as children, and it's sick. My stomach hurts and I could vomit whenever I think about it. What the hell is wrong with this world?

Kenni, Jensen, and Work

I'm sitting at the kitchen table working on a sketch of Jensen Ackles, but my puppy is very distracting. She keeps jumping up on her hind paws to stick her face in my view, slobbering all over my face in the process. So, I told her to go get her rat- a black, squeaky, plastic rat- a halloween decoration I bought her last October. It's now missing an ear, one paw, and the tip of it's tail, but it still squeaks, and it's her favorite. That, and the squeaking, rubber chicken. So she brought it to me and we play keep-the-rat-away-from-Kenni, our favorite game, second only to throw-the-tennis-ball-and-watch-Kenni-chase-it-bring-it-back-and-pry-it-from-her-death-grip game. I held the rat to my right, she jumped for it. I moved it to the left. She raced around my chair and jumped for it. I moved it to my right, back to the left, right, left,right, repeat...I love sitting here and letting her tire herself out by running around and around my chair. She loves it too. Then I tossed it down the hall and she went after it. Back to the drawing... Kenni brings the rat back.
"Later, Kenni," I told her. Grabbing my pencil, I prepare to shade Jensen's jaw and cheek. Kenni pressed her head against my arm. I couldn't ignore her cute face. I reached down to pet her, but petting was not nearly enough for my hyper pup. She literally jumped off the floor and into my lap, like my cat would. Like she's a chihuahua instead of the huge mutt she is. Well, she's not huge, huge, but she's too big to be jumping on people. Does that ever stop her?
Absolutely not.
Of course, I am the one who taught her this. Not on purpose. She likes to stand on her hind legs with her front legs on my lap so I can hug her and pet her, and occasionally I pick her up under her arms like a toddler and set her in my lap, I just can't resist. It's kinda funny. She puts one paw on each of my shoulders and starts licking my face with ferver, completely ecstatic to be so close to me. She's a cuddler. She plops right down on top of you and sticks her face against your cheek, pressing her body as close as she can possibly get. There is no such thing as personal space for this puppy. Most of the time she's like a second skin.
She doesn't sit still long enough to be a pillow, though. The other night I was watching a horror movie in my room. It's late, dark, I am the only one home until Feb. 6th, and a very hair-raising scene begins. I thumped my hand against the mattress in front of me.
"Come on, Kenni! Up!" She's thrilled, and followed my instructions. I was under a cocoon of blankets, Billy- my sister's dog- was behind my head, sharing my pillow, and Kenni was under my left cheek. Twin size bed, I was surrounded in case any paranormal being decided to choose that moment to reach out and gently stroke an icy finger along my back. But Kenni wouldn't sit still. She wanted to play. It didn't work out too well. Billy, on the other hand, stayed statue-like, so I rested my head on her belly during the more frightening scenes.
Anyway, I just got a phone call from a fellow Barista. I should have been expecting this. I'm supposed to work 2 pm to close tomorrow. Sarah, a barista and friend, has class in the morning and has to open cafe. She couldn't find anyone to cover. Megan called Kori who called me. Kori is opening, and I'm now working 10 a.m. to close. 10-9. Yay. Least the store hours changed last sunday so now we close an hour early. Two hours early on fridays. Oh, well. I am desperate for the money anyway. Guess I'm not staying up insanely late tonight.

Gothic Lolita by Emilie Autumn

A Few Demons

Some days I don't want to go on. I wish it all would end. Eternal sleep sounds so wonderful sometimes, but I'm a coward. And just when I think it can't get worse, it always does. I was fine until 2008 began, then things slowly started to fall apart. With 2009 beginning, I tried to be optimistic with thoughts that a new year will make things better. Optimism doesn't come as easily as it once did for me. I used to be the person I am in public all the time. But now it's my facade. When I'm alone I can't make my demons go away. The hurt is there. The depression, the lonliness, the holes and gaps. I used to be happy. My aunt Rosie once told me that even bright and early in the morning I woke up with a smile that lights my eyes...My smiles are saved for when I'm around people now, so they can't see what I have become. I don't know me anymore. When I look in the mirror I don't like the person staring back at me. Her eyes are no longer twinkling with smiles. Her mouth is forever frowning. There is a cloud over her, a darkness she can't shake. Tears live on the surface of her irisis....
I've always kept people at a distance, pretend I'm blending in when I'm really not. I guard my heart with every ounce of my being, so sure that everyone is out to break it if I let them in. But, with lots of prying from a friend, I allowed him to penetrate my walls, knock a few holes in them, get too close. And, just as I suspected, I got hurt. Not really badly, but enough to try to rebuild my walls. It is my fault I fell in love with this person, my fault he hurt me. I knew better, but he had pretty words that I fell for. He stopped calling. Stopped caring. My fault my depression escalated to a point I can barely contain. This time when I rebuild the walls around my heart, I'm installing a dragon as well. A large, ferocious beast that no one will ever get past.
Why do I feel I need to guard my heart? How many times has it been betrayed? First, there was mom. I'm not going into details. She just didn't protect me like a mom is supposed to. Didn't protect any of us. Sure she's flawed, everyone is, I still love her. But I guard myself from her as well. Second, dad. I was daddy's girl when I was a kid, he was my hero. Then my image of him was shattered when a few things about him were revealed. Another broken piece of my heart. Third, the man I grew up calling grandpa. Same boat as dad. Fourth, my oldest sister. I put her up on a pedestal, but she really is just a b****. Sorry, but she is. I guess my brother can be fourth with my sister as well. And my other sister. Fifth, and the thing that has haunted me for thirteen years of my life, my stepbrother. He never had my heart, but I should have been able to trust him. It's because of him I am who I am today. Him, and mom's lack of protection. I blame myself, too. Though, according to what "they" say, it's not my fault. But I feel some of the blame should be on me. I never spoke up. Well, once, a couple years ago...
My youngest sister, the only one who I've ever given my heart to without regret, was having a huge fight with mom. Up until that year I always took every ounce of blame for our childhood, never placing any on my mother, who could do no wrong in my eyes. But my beautiful baby sister opened my eyes and made me realize mom should shoulder some of my blame. Diana, my baby sister, was more than willing to place fault where it belonged: on mom. She said what should have been said many years ago, let it all out and told mom exactly how she felt about it. I had never been that brave, and I was proud of Diana. Then mom, playing martyr, turned to me, not understanding Diana's pain and hurt. I yelled at mom too, for the first time in my entire life, I yelled at her. And I told her what my stepbrother had done. Shock was on her face, and I felt a weight leave me, I started to cry. "Really? He did that?" she asked, like she couldn't believe it. Yeah, he did. More than once. I had only told three people before that day: Diana, my friend Maria, and my cousin Nancy. I told mom, yelled it at mom, then got in my car and drove away. I stopped a few miles down the road at a McDonalds and cried there in my car in the parking lot for almost an hour. Until I had no more tears left in me. Then I went to my brother's apartment where I was living at the time, pretended I was fine, and went to bed. Mom, never once since that night, ever mentioned what I told her about my stepbrother. Never brought it up. That kind of hurts me, like she doesn't care what he did to me. Like I matter so little to her. I refused to talk to her for about three months after that fight. My sister who I live with now would tell me after talking to mom on the phone, "Mom says she loves you." I'd shrugged, chosing not to say anything in return. But I knew mom was hurting because I stopped talking to her. I knew my silence was killing her. She stressed about it, cried all the time, left me messages on my phone because I wouldn't answer. I heard the tears in her voice. It killed me that I was causing my mother pain. Then she got a heart murmur. Scared me to death, I broke my silence, slowly let her back in my life. Even though she has caused me much pain for many reasons, I couldn't bear knowing that I was causing her pain. So I took most of the blame I had put on her shoulders, and I put it back in place on mine. I carry it with me everywhere, it hurts. But I don't know what else to do...

Music, Work, Shopping List...

I really love music. My head is like a radio when I'm at work. While I'm steaming milk and pouring espresso you can probably hear me humming, throwing in a few lyrics now and then. Today my mental station was stuck on a loop of "Love Story" by Taylor Swift, "The Light In Your Eyes" by Leanne Rimes, "Fall For You" by Secondhand Serenade, "Whatever It Takes" by Lifehouse, "The Motions" by Matthew West, and, kind of comical, "Going Through The Motions" by Buffy- The musical episode. I suggest everyone youtube these. They're really all great songs.
I was introduced to a magazine today, and I like it so much I bought it. I might subscribe to it. It's Bust magazine "For women with something to get off their chests." It's absolutely wonderful. Independent women speaking out, sharing with the world. I love it. Sometimes I wish I had been around when women couldn't vote just so I could have been a part of it all. I guess I just like to defiy authority where I can, as often as I can. Be liberated!
Anywho, it was really busy at work today, from the second the doors opened, and still going strong when I left poor Devin by himself. Hey, I was alone all morning in Cafe, it was time to go home.
Now I get the awesomely fun job of going to Wal-mart for dog food. Yippy. And a ruler. And Skim milk...cheese...I'm forgetting something, I just know it.