Inner Peace

I have attained what I have been searching for all these years- inner peace and serenity.

I look around, and I have nothing to complain about... I know that I still have problems, that I will have to eventually work out, but these few "problems" no longer hold weight in my psyche. I have let go of all of those cares and worries. I no longer fear my child's father. I no longer fear anything. I have let it all go.

This feeling is amazing. I can only be grateful to myself, as it was I that desired this peace. It was I that created this serenity. I wished for it and I got it!

So, this leads me back to the thought that we create our own reality. When I stopped wanting to be sad, I stopped being sad. When I stopped wanting to keep to myself and be miserable, that ceased to be my reality. I have manifested my desires. My mind no longer races a mile a minute. I no longer have persistent and insufferable insomnia. I am sad, no more.

Nothing happened, to even cause this reality to be mine. I did not fill the void in my heart with a new relationship. I have just been taking care of myself and guarding my psyche from attacks by outside influences. Nothing really bothers me anymore, I just let negativity roll off of me, like beads of water. I have found the ability to relax and just let time pass, with nowhere to go, and nothing to do. They say that happiness is ever-fleeting, but that a state of joy is long-lasting. Petty mood swings do not erase, or even touch, a true state of joy. I have been feeling this joy for about a week. I want it to stay with me.

About a week ago, I did allow my psyche to be plagued with fear. I now see that I was allowing someone else to rent space in my head. Since I received no rent money, I evicted all thoughts of him from my mind. Why should he get to live in my head, isn't it crowded enough up there, to begin with?

I do not need anyone to influence the way that I feel. I need no one to fill my heart, for me. I am complete, in and of myself. I need no one, to make me whole. I was born a whole person.

Now, what am I going to do with this new found joy? Hmmm...

Legal Matters, Freedom, and Release

I am at peace.

Tomorrow, or today, being as though it is after midnight, is another story. I have to guard my heart. My heart is like an insane asylum. There are crazy people, who have lived within its walls. I am scared of these crazy people. I may be a counselor, by profession, but no amount of training prepared me for the psychological torment that these asylum residents have inflicted, within the confines of my own heart.

I have to do some necessary "house cleaning" today. I have to make the obvious into law, or at least, begin the process. I have put it off, long enough. I want to move on, with confidence. I no longer wish to have chains to the past, no matter how I think that I have severed that link, there is just one bit of legality that I have to contend with... Custody, ugh.

It has been a difficult road, for this little Ave.

On the upside, I am grateful that I have not been plagued with anymore phone calls, or any other types of communication. The absolute last thing that I expected, was a phone call from someone that I was trying to forget. No one could have prepared me, for the shock that I felt, when I heard that he had called the house.

My heart has mended. I finally feel like the fog, that had been planted firmly on my horizon, has lifted. I no longer feel that twinge of pain, that would strike, whenever someone mentioned his name. I no longer find myself crying, after a song played, that would remind me of him. I am free. This feeling is irreplaceable and priceless. I would have paid all the money in the world, to have felt like this three short months ago.

At this point, all I want, is for him to let me go.


Listening to: The Grudge, Tool

I thought that this was cool:

There's a hole in my heart, that I refuse to fill.

I thought that I was in the clear, when it came to a certain subject. I was under the impression that I had made him hate me. As it turns out, I was wrong.

Thank God for Caller ID, Voicemail, and Call Block. Seriously.

You, as the reader, are probably wondering what happened. Well, it seems that a certain someone has called my home, requesting that I call him back. He said that he loves us both. While this is very touching, I do not buy it. My ex is a salesperson and has a very convincing pitch. However, I think that I have fallen for enough sales pitches, from that particular salesman, to last an entire lifetime.

I may be a newly-single mom, but I am not desperate.

Why would I ever want to open that can of worms, again?  It has taken over three months of our separation, for me to finally be healed, from the emotional pain and suffering that lasted for three years. I no longer cry. The songs that we listened to, and mutually loved, finally do not bring me to tears. I have the closure and peace that I have been craving.  Isn't that the way the universe usually works? The moment that peace is attained, is the exact moment that something happens, to disturb that peace...

I just want to be left alone, in peace, to live the life that I want to live,  and raise my daughter in a drama-free environment. Is that too much to ask?

Ave has entered the building...

I have not been writing, lately, at least not on this blog. Why, you ask? Well, I really cannot answer that, because I do not know.

Wait. No, that is not true.

Here is the real deal...

It has been a month-and-a-half, since I last posted a blog. I suppose that I scared myself out of doing it, because I violated one of my own rules. I always say: "You shouldn't have to curb honesty, for the sake of appearance." Well, I have been curbing my own honesty, for that very reason. Since I started working in my old and familiar hometown, I have been guarding what I say, post Online, write on social networking sites, etc... I guess I was actually concerned about what others saw through their own eyes.

You might be thinking: "What the hell, Ave? I thought you were supposed to be this super-woman, who does not give the slightest care about what people think? You mean to tell me, that you actually began to care about the judgments of other people?"

I guess I did.

Luckily, I came to my senses. I have decided that I am, who I thought I was!
I do not care what people think about me, and if what they think is negative, well... they can just keep on thinking it! Since when have I ever been conventional? Never. So, why did I suddenly begin to care about how I was judged, or who was judging me? I do not know. Maybe I thought that I went too far, in what I disclosed in this blog. Perhaps I did. A careful observer, would see that this newly re-released blog has undergone some major editing. I cannot take back what has already been read, but I can prevent it from being discovered by new eyes, or re-read by old ones, right?

At this point, I no longer care about that, either. Being free-spirited and carefree have always been characteristics valued by this writer. I am not saying that I am going to go all "Lady Gaga" on here, but unconventionality is an art form, in moderation.

I refuse to live in fear. I have done so for so long, that the fear-based reality, was all that I knew. After a month hiatus, I have found that self-censoring is a waste of time. Kurt Cobain once said something to the effect of: "I would rather be hated for who I am, than loved for who I'm not." I think that this quote has summarized how I feel, these days.

So, let us herald the re-emergence of the sometimes controversial and uninhibited Avenue!

This street has been a little empty, I must say.

The Deserted Street of Avenue Eighty-One

Listening to: the crickets and frogs in my backyard, with the occasional buzz, buzz of a skeeter flying near my ears.



These are the only things I liked, with the search term of: "Avenue," on Amazon. Enjoy.

Emotional Milkshake

I laid my daughter down to sleep tonight, just like every night. Tonight, something was different, so I laid my head down on the pillow, next to her's, and cuddled with her for a few moments. I began to cry. It was not a downpour, but more like a misting. Thank God that Trinity did not notice anything- I never want her to see me cry.

I do not know what is wrong with me, these days. Why am I so down? I was fine earlier today... what happened?

Trinity is the light at the end of my tunnel. When everything seems cold and barren, even in the middle of a Florida summer, Trinity always warms my heart, and helps me to see that everything is, as it should be.

I really feel like my emotions have been put in a blender and mixed up to the point of becoming one of those nasty fish-guts "milkshakes" that couples were dared to drink on an episode of that old show, Fear Factor. It is quite a disgusting analogy, but it is fitting.

I just want to move on.

A Few Thoughts... Uh oh, not again!

As always, I have been thinking entirely too much and staying up too late. What can I say? I am a complete extremist! Throughout my life, I have sought something that was always just out of reach: balance. I know that it cannot just be the fact that I was born under the sun sign of Libra, the sign of the Scales of Balance. There has got to be more than just that...

I do have some balance in my life today, but not as much as I would like. I think I have been trying to tip the scales in the opposite direction, from where it was, to where I would like it to be. But fixing a fragmented life is not as simple, as I would like it to be.

At any given moment, I am swinging between at least five different tasks, and not really giving my full attention to any of them. This is readily apparent to me. I am quite certain that those around me continually shake their heads, and wonder: "Where the hell is this girl's head at?" I think that I have a problem with biting off more than I can chew and this gets me into trouble.

So, my main goal now, is to focus. I know, in my last blog, I was begging for a purpose. I have decided, that a purpose is not essential. I focus too much energy on the so-called "problems" in my head, and not enough energy is spent on solution-based strategies. As much as this pains me to write this: I have to resort to becoming a little more conventional and a little less eccentric. Maybe, then, there will be hope for me to start putting all these mental plans into actions. Sitting here obsessing about what is next, does me no good- planning and most importantly, executing, these plans is essential.

I think it is time to stop living in my head and start living in reality. The two worlds are not mutually exclusive! I have to remind myself this, on a daily basis, from now on. I forget that I can bring my quirky brain with me, wherever I may go.

I will close with this thought: Life is something you create. What will I create, next?

Creating Me

I have been thinking a lot about me, lately. This is a foreign thing, actually. I am so used to thinking and worrying about others, over the past few years, that I have not had the time, or energy, to give much thought to myself.

I have recently discovered long-lost friends, hopes, dreams, and ambitions that I thought were gone forever. But I wonder to myself... Who have I become over these years? I have lost touch with who I was, who I want to be, and most importantly, who I am.

I read a quote recently, that I will paraphrase here, because I cannot quite remember it exactly: we do not find ourselves, we create ourselves. I believe that I saw this on the Positively Positive site on Facebook, but don't quote me on that.

So what kind of creation am I, and more importantly, what kind of life do I want to create for myself? Let's see, what I want to create is easy...

I want:

• To be happy, first and foremost.
• My daughter to be better than I ever was, or could be.
• To discover what it is that I am meant to do with the rest of my life.
• A life full of adventure, learning, and exploration
• To start a project and finish it; by this, I mean my book.

In an earlier post, Who am I... I discussed some of the observations that I have made about myself. I found that I am not the empty shell that I have pretended to be these past few years. I am not sure that I even was pretending. I think that I had myself convinced that I was what someone wanted me to be.

I have learned that the only person that one can ever change is oneself, and even this, is often extremely difficult. I was never a victim- whatever I have been through, I co-created. I take full responsibility for my part of the insanity. By definition, insanity is said to be repeating the same action, over and over again, but expecting different results. I was insane. Case closed.

Now, that I have some semblance of sanity, I wonder what to do with it... what is the next big thing in my life? Obviously, a relationship is not what I need- it is actually the last thing that I need right now! Since that is crossed off the list, until further notice, I need something to fill the empty cup of my soul. It seems as though I am not enough to keep myself occupied. My daughter surely keeps me occupied, but not in the same way that I am referring to- I need a purpose! I feel like I have no purpose on this Earth, other than being the best mother, that I am capable of being. I believe that I need something to fuel my fire, some muse to give me inspiration to do, what it is that I am meant to do. I keep doing these little things to create my own reality, but it feels like there is something big that is missing, some key element, that I just cannot put my finger on, at the moment. I suppose that this is the next big life question that I must ponder...

What is my purpose?



Again, another night sans music. However, I have picked out some books, listed below, that apply directly to what I want to accomplish.

Here are the links:

Emotional Masochist

I have determined that I am an emotional masochist.

I am addicted to the Internet, especially You Tube. I love watching music videos, among other things. The only problem with this, is that I tend to be drawn to music that reminds me of people. Why is this a problem, you ask? Well, I tend to seek out videos of songs that were loved by me and my ex. Ah! No wonder I get into these emotional funks that I cannot seem to shake. I am doing this to myself.

I was doing okay this morning, introspective, but okay. Some sad part of myself decided to pull up a video from Enigma, a bizarre group that I absolutely love. Of course, the first link that I chose to click was the one for the Return to Innocence video. Hence, enter the masochistic need for me to hurt. I own the DVD of Enigma's, Remember the Future, and this video just so happens to be his favorite... Why do I do this to myself? 

I actually started to tear up, when it started to play. A wave of sadness came over me, and I actually started to miss him. What the hell?  So many people are proud of me for doing what I did, as am I. That does not mean that I do not have the lingering emotions, of a love lost. No matter how cruel someone can be, there is a flipside to every coin. There were redeeming qualities in him. I think I was always trying to save him from himself. This was futile, and I knew that early on, but I still tried with everything I had. This pain is normal, I keep telling myself.

I was the one who walked away, and I did so for a very good reason. But, like everything, there was good mixed in with the bad. Why is it that I can only see the good in our relationship, when clearly, the bad always won out?

Like I said, I am an emotional masochist.

The inspiration to my madness:
Enigma- Return to Innocence

Who am I? The Latest List...

So, I am trying to figure out a few things about my life, and this is what I have come up with, thus far...

1. I am a bit of a shut-in. I like to go out, don't get me wrong, but I think that I may spend too much time within the confines of our property, out here in the semi-woods. I am fairly certain that I need to start getting out more.
2. I need to gain weight. Yes, you can start hating me now- most people have the opposite problem.
3. I have a gargantuan ego and low self-esteem. Go figure!
4. I am entirely too sensitive. This makes me an easy target for people to pick on me!
5. My daughter needs friends her age; hanging around me all the time cannot be healthy. I think my parenting skills stink, also. I pray only for Trinity to be different from her mother. I love being a Mommy, I just think that I am really bad at the whole thing!
6. I think my writing sucks, but I do it anyway.
7. I want to be my own boss. I am sick of tyrannical employers with bigger egos than my own. Plus, I think that I am smarter than they are, I just lack ambition to be better at what I do.
8. I miss my father. Rest in peace, Donald Stutzenburg, Sr. You are the reason I do not drink anymore... You were taken far before your time. It makes me sad to think that Trinity will never know how funny and intelligent you were, when you were still with us.
9. I have an energy drink addiction. I need to drink less caffeine and more water.
10. I am online way too much. This is obvious.
11. I love being single, but I am lonely and this makes me miss the few good times I had with my child's father. This is a scary thought.
12. I am obsessive-compulsive, but not so much so, that I qualify for having a mental health disorder.
13. My wardrobe looks like I am still in High School. I guess I have a nostalgia addiction, as well. I think, as I get older, I am regressing. I guess I don't want to grow up. Being a kid was so much easier.
14. The past haunts me! I wish I did not have a photographic memory.
15. I really don't know what direction that my life is heading in, and this drives me mad.
16. My taste in music does not help me. I think I need to stop listening to sad songs and revisit the days where I listened to ska-punk.
17. I am a total dork! Enough said, on this topic.
18. My diet sucks! I am a total junk food junkie. I need to get back on the organic foods kick. The food additives in junk food are toxic.
19. Too many interests, too little time- this seems to be the story of my life.
20. Procrastination is an art form. I have been dubbed Avenue, because I am Avoidant.
21. I use comas and semi-colons way too much.
22. Randomness is a way of life.
23. I think I have adult ADHD. Staying on topic is so hard for me to do.
24. Insomnia- something I wish I did not have.
25. I miss the video games that the ex sold. But I am glad I still own all my action figures!

This list is completely pointless to read. It is more for me, than anyone else. I just thought that I would share about what has been going through my mind this morning.

I actually slept last night, which is nothing short of a miracle. I think that I am finally getting enough clarity of mind and thought, that I can actually fall asleep at a normal time and stay asleep. I think that, if nothing else, all the writing I have been doing is very therapeutic. I just wish that I could get this book written and get on with my life, sooner rather than later. I know that nothing that is worth doing can be done overnight, but damn. I just wish that my left wrist would not start throbbing after a few hours of typing. There is so much that I have to write and I am irritated that a silly mistake that I made back in 1997, on Rollerblades, can still haunt me to this day. I suppose that I could just take an ibuprofen when the pain strikes, but I detest taking any sort of over-the-counter medication. If it hurts, then I should just stop what I am doing and come back to it later. I suppose that this list is another way for me to procrastinate. Back to work, I go!

Listening to:
One of my all-time favorite songs, Tainted Love- Soft Cell

Writing

It is about time, seriously. I have finally started on this damn book that I have been talking about for years. I am actually writing it in the form of a book, not just random blocks of text, that I would later have to piece together, and try to make them fit into the context of a story. I forgot how much work goes into telling a cohesive story, one that actually has a plot, structure, and theme.

My bogs are usually the first things that come out of my head- they really have no organization. I just kind of sit down and write. Whatever comes out, at that time, is fine with me. This book is different though. It was, and still is, my life-long dream, to tell a story that I feel is worth telling; one that is full of life lessons from doing things the hard and unconventional way, and jam-packed with meaning. I was surprised at how easily I wrote all those pages. It came like liquid, just pouring out of my finger tips. I probably would have written more, if it wasn't for my daughter using this opportunity, of a distracted mommy, to get into trouble, my cell phone going off with calls/text messages, and the house phone ringing . My left wrist is starting to throb, as I pulverized the bones in that one, back in 1997, so a little pain is expected. Nothing worth doing is easy.

So, now I am on a brief hiatus. The subject I am writing about is very personal to me, and it takes a lot out of me, emotionally, to rehash all the hurt and pain. Writing also makes me yearn for all the good times that were had... Knowing that things will never be the same as they were, in any situation, makes writing about everything a great deal easier.

Oh well. What am I going to do with myself? Probably just continue to tap on this keyboard, until I have pumped out a couple hundred pages of the story I want to tell, or until I get carpal tunnel syndrome and I have to get someone else to type for me! But then I would have to do the whole profit-sharing thing, and I am not down for that cause. Overall, I have been satisfied with the work that I have done today, and I feel that I deserve a swim in the pool, as does my daughter. Corn-dogs sound good, as well.

Listening to the usual depressing music, Nine Inch Nails, Something I can Never Have

Completion & Closure, Priceless

Everything is completed! I am officially moved out of my former home. I was so happy, yesterday, when the final load was in the truck and we drove away from my little place on Clyde Morris. So long, old memories!

It truly feels like that chapter in my life has finally closed, that I can finally move on now, with no hesitation. Knowing that I had to continually return to my old home, was like having a hair in my mouth, that I could not remove. I feel nothing but relief- no sadness, no regret. There seemed to be nothing but bad memories in that house. It was the place where I lost my love, of three years. The location of where I had to swallow what was left of my pride... it was a place of recognition that it was futile to continue on, struggling, and trying to make ends meet, when they would never be met. The memories of Him would forever haunt that place; in the walls, the furniture, and the decorations. Thoughts of what I had to give up, would forever plague my psyche. It was a place of heartache and humility. I am ecstatic that I will never have to even look at that house again. Somethings are better left unexplored, and kept in the past, where they belong.

Now, I am trying to determine what the best next move would be, as this move is finally completed. This is a time of moving forward... but to where? What new adventures lay ahead of me? What is next? These questions are getting to me... I wanted this change, as it was I that set the wheels in motion. I plotted my "escape" for months, and everything finally fell into place, little by little. Now, I feel that my wounds are nearly healed and I am ready for the next chapter in the book of my life. Not knowing what lies ahead is kind of bugging me. I suppose that all I have is the now, the present, and that should be good enough. I guess that it is.

There is no price tag that I can put on my current state of mental and emotional clarity. I do not feel like there is a 135 lb. weight dragging me down into the abyss; no chains to bind me to the past.

I am a formally caged bird, who does not know what to do with her newly-found freedom. When this happened before, back in 2005, I went buck wild and lived it up for 6-months. That continued, until my father passed away, in 2006.  Everything changed, after that, and I sought solace in the arms of a man who reminded me of my father. I have been single a total of 8-months out of the past 10 years.

Things are different now. I am different now. I think that the lack of alcohol use is one of the many significant differences between now and 2005- not to mention the fact that I am a single mother, of course. When I drank, I was crazy... all the pent up feelings and urges were expressed. Years after I have overcome my alcohol problem, and I am much more conventional, I find that I am a wallflower.

At my 10-Year High School Reunion last Saturday, I found out that the most obnoxious and wild girl in my graduating class, (that I never made it to, by the way), has turned into the most shy and quiet person in the room. I saw many people that I would have loved to talk to, and catch up on old times, but I was trapped inside myself. I think that I take transformation too seriously and swing too far in the opposite direction. I am sure that I can correct this, but I am not sure how to go about it. I wonder, why it is so easy for me to have online relationships with people, but I am nearly incapable of being comfortable in a social setting, in the real world. I suppose these are all growing pains- that all of these, so-called problems will resolve themselves, with time. When I have these moments of self-frustration, I have to take a moment to remind myself that I am not the superhero my mind would like me to be! I am only human. I have the same kinds of emotions that everyone else has and there is nothing wrong with that.

Only time will tell, what this new chapter of The Small Street of Avenue 81, will bring...

Listening to:

Jack's Lament, You Tube Video

Memories

I think memory boxes should be illegal. At the very least, someone needs to do a public service announcement declaring the dangers of these inventions.

I found some of the strangest things...

• Numerous sappy love poems, written to my ex-fiance, and one to my first love. I edited the Collection of Bad Poetry blog from last month, to include these poems, as well. They were so bad, that they did not warrant their own blog posting. I will never write another love poem!
• Some of my strange old jewelry from high school. Evidently, I had the weirdest taste back then... Fimo clay must have been all the rage 12 years ago.
• A cassette tape making fun of me, and other people, made in 1998 by my high school rival. Ha! You know that I actually signed a petition to have his show put on the radio air waves in high school- I felt it was all in good sport. Those comments about my chin still haunt me to this day, every time I look in the mirror. Thank you for that.
• A Buddhist guided meditation CD and the accompanying pamphlet, that I got from an actual Buddhist Temple, which was located across from my apartment complex in Bensalem, Pennsylvania.
• My pager from 1999 and a complete list of pager codes and explanations, to boot!
• A little black felt journal, that describes every moment of the relationship with my first love. The tear stained pages are a reminder of how I take everything too seriously.
• A journal from 2004, which is nearly incoherent; more so than my blogs. I was even more of a shut-in, after I graduated college, and was having difficultly finding a job, I was smoking entirely too much marijuana those days, and I had agoraphobia. This journal reminds me of something the police would find in a paranoid schizophrenic's apartment, after an apparent murder-suicide.
• A little red yo-yo. I actually cannot recall the significance, with this object.
• The invitation and ticket to the Homecoming Dance of 1996, my first High School dance. Thank you to the wonderful teenage boy who danced with me all that night; he knows who he is.
• Hair. I found my own hair, still in a ponytail, after I cut it all off. I guess this would be good for Locks of Love.
• Key chains and lighters, a whole schlew of them.

• Some random temporary tattoos that my old employer got for me in The Netherlands.
• An honors medallion from my college graduation in 2004.
• About 25 love letters written to my child's father, that I kept because I knew that he would destroy them. I think it is my daughter's right to own these, after she is old enough to understand what it means to truly love someone.
• My lapel pin collection, a reminder that I am a professional, no matter how long it has been since I practiced social work.
• An antique Yogi Bear square sliding box puzzle
• My baby book, a reminder of how much I miss my dad. You will always be in my heart, Daddy!
• An Intramural Medal from Middle School. One of the only things I was ever good at in P.E. was Crab-Cage ball. How random is that?

So, I am sitting here, contemplating who would put so many random objects in the same box. Oh, that's right- it was me! This box was a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode, if it was not given the attention that it felt that it deserved. Yes, I just gave an inanimate object human characteristics, just call me anthropomorphic and be done with it!

These boxes are both good and bad things. I would definitely not recommend, those who are mentally and emotionally unstable, opening a can of worms, such as a memory box. This box was needed though, as I have been avoidant in my personal affairs and feelings. It is like exposure therapy. There really is no way for me to hide from emotions from the past, if I hold the objects from the past in my hands.

There is a lot to be said about confronting your demons, so that they cannot hurt you anymore. There are certain instances in my life that were so painful, that I stuffed the emotions in a box and hid them away for years. I think this is why I was a heavy drinker and marijuana user. I used these substances to self-medicate my pain, sadness, and confusion. I really thought that I could drink or smoke my problems away. I am much more realistic these days. I know there is so much work to be done in my life and that this is the fresh start that I needed. However, it troubles me that I am troubled. I feel like I should be this super-hero femme fatal, who takes no prisoners, does what she wants, and regrets nothing. I get angry with myself when I recognize my humanity- that I am a person with flaws, just like everyone else. I want to be the Ubermensch, or super-[wo]man. I want to be the person everyone counts on, to always be there to catch them when they fall.

But, I must recognize the truth- sometimes I have to pick myself up when I fall down. The super-hero must do the same, in nearly every tale. It is the struggle that I wrestle with; I want to be perfect and am frustrated that I will never be anything close.


Listening to: the sound of crickets and frogs outside my window, the fizzing of my soda on the nightstand, the sound of the ceiling fan, and the tapping of the keyboard of my laptop. Sorry guys, no music tonight.




Links:
Definition of Ubermensch
Superhero, a list of traits and more information
Marvel, The Official Website
Superhero Database
DC Comics

Mother, a loaded word...

Ha! Aspiring writer. Who knew that this lost dream would awaken. But, what am I doing with it? Nothing but complaining, doing copious amounts of research, and then commenting on people's posts on social networking sites. Basically, nothing. I wonder if I will ever get the needed fire under my butt to actually write about the things that inspire me the most.


I have issues. I have a great deal of them. I feel that these issues need to be addressed before I can start organizing my writings into a cohesive book. I fear that I am incoherent in my writings, kind of like Faust, a brilliant piece of work that needs a codex and a road map, to decipher. I wonder if this is how many writers start off, just randomly writing the first things that come to mind. I sometimes feel that I will always be the squirrel and that stupid poem, that was published in 2006, will be the only thing that I ever produce in print.


That very thought scares the crap out of me. I want to put my ideas in print. I want to tell stories. I want to write the ones that other people want to read, the ones that change lives and perceptions of reality. The trouble that I am having with this is: where do I begin? If I just sit down on my laptop and start writing, will the results be like my blog, the one you are reading now, the one that hardly makes any sense at all? Ugh. I get so frustrated with myself.


I suffer from low self-esteem, I have for many years, now. I used to be a bright and energetic kid. My mother (!) berated me as a child and yelled at me so much, called me names, and finally broke my spirit, to the point that I believed that I was what she claimed I was: a worthless pain in the ass, who talked too much. It is sad to say, but it is true. I was called every name in the book by my own mother. I was made to feel inferior, belittled. This lasted 18 years.


My mother is a can of worms that I have been hesitant to open, while blogging. I could write an entire book about her, as well as the host of other issues, that I feel I have, because of her treatment of me while growing up. My mother was a very difficult woman to live with; that is putting it lightly. But, since I think that I opened this can already, here goes nothing...


My grandparents willed everything to me, upon their death, so that I could go to college, so I would not have to work constantly and have my grades suffer. There was a close family friend, and Masonic Brother to my maternal grandfather, who was designated as the Executor of their will. My grandfather passed away first, on August 24, 1996. This was my second day of high school. I awoke that morning to find that my grandfather had passed away, during the night. The image that has haunted me for years, was that of my grandfather's body being taken down the stairs on a stretcher, draped in a white sheet. It was a sad day, but to avoid being stuck with my crazy and hysterical mother all day, I went to school. High School was an escape, for me. Although it was difficult, I loved to go to school; my mother was not there and I was free to be myself.


Right after I officially dropped out of High School, in the early months of 1999, my grandmother passed away. This killed me. My Nana was my world, my savior, the only person, in my house, who cared about me and would listen to what I had to say. I loved my Nana with all my heart. But she was a frail little thing with a heart condition and chronic respiratory problems. With both of my maternal grandparents deceased, my mother had full reins on me. The Executor of my grandparent's will decided that my mother was just too much to handle and stepped down; this action caused my mother to become the new Executor, by default. This coward made my life so difficult for the next few years... I don't know if I will ever forgive him. He knows who he is, and how much he disappointed his Masonic Brother. He knows just how much my grandfather would turn over in his grave and curse him for being the spineless piece of garbage that he was. I will not name names, but some of you might get your teeth cleaned by this coward. I have an arrest record, thanks to this man.


Moving on... After my mother found out that she was the new designated Executor to the Groeber Estate, she proceeded to spend over $26,000 in two measly months. What did she buy? Leather jackets, cheap used cars, fake wood furniture that fell apart, when you tried to move it after it was assembled. She bought jewelery, for herself, and her paranoid schizophrenic boyfriend, who was the father of her unborn child. She bought baby furniture and a light turquoise leather couch set. All of these items purchased, with my college fund, she lost due to nonpayment on her numerous storage units, less than a year after their purchase. MaryLee also bought me a few items, consolation gifts, I suppose. She knew she had won. She knew that I was just a pot-head, a teenage high school drop out, a loser, and a heavy drinker. When she became the Executor, there was a new sheriff in town and she was going to rule with an iron fist. My only hope was to go back to school.


My mother knew how to get under my skin. She knew how much I hated and despised her for hitting my 73 year old grandmother in 1997; I would never forgive her for this atrocity, and she knew it. After she hit Nana, it was over. This woman would never be looked at as anything other than White Trash, by me. Yes, you read that right, I just called my own mother white trash. Nana was always more of a mother to me than my own would ever hope to be. Nana and I would talk for hours. Mary Althea Groeber was the most witty, intelligent, caring, and spiritual person I have ever known. I miss her everyday, even over 11 years after her death.


I eventually sued my own mother and won. I gained control over my college trust fund and put myself through school. I graduated from a major university with a Bachelor's Degree, at the top of my class, no less, earning Magna cum Laude Honors. My mother may have tried everything in her power to keep my free-spirit locked in a cage, but her efforts availed her nothing, in the end.


I haven't spoke to my mother in years and I do not even know where she is, currently.

... to be continued... one day.



YouTube Mother Video, Pink Floyd

I sat down with the intention....

... of writing a fantastic blog. Ha, ha, ha. Whenever did I get the inspiration to write when I had the specific intention of writing? Hardly ever. I suppose that most of my writing happens when I am very angry, sad, hurt, and or lonely- sometimes all at the same time. Today, I wanted to try something different... I wanted to sit down and write while being happy and content. How is that working out for me, you ask? It is not. Not at all.

I suppose the topic of this blog is: why do I only write when I am in a negative space?

I am a person that is driven by her emotions. If I am feeling negative emotions, that is unusual for me. I am a very happy person, plain and simple. Those who know me, would probably use descriptive words like: funny, energetic, crazy, and talkative. So, when I sit down and I put all these negative emotions in black and white, people are shocked and confused. They probably wonder to themselves: where did this come from, isn't she always happy? What is going on with her? I don't even know what to say.

I think it all started when I was a teenager. I used to write incessantly in various notebooks. I would usually only write when I was feeling a very strong emotion, something I did not want to talk about with one of my friends. I would also write volumes about the boys I liked and, of course, I have an entire journal dedicated to my first love. I still have this journal, though I am afraid to open it, don't ask me why. I would write about feelings that I was too embarrassed to share with people. I felt like I had to uphold a certain image of myself to my friends.

And, what image is that, you ask? The image that I liked to maintain in front of others was that of a care-free, enthusiastic, and unique teenager. One of the most horrible things to occur, in my teenage years, was the loss of that identity, upon my dropping out of high school. I became the bad girl, the dropout, the loser. I embraced that image, as well. It seems like I take the labels that other people give me, and I run with them, make them my own. I do this until I grow out of them, or stop caring about what others think about me, in regards to that particular issue. You say that I am crazy? Well, let me show you what crazy really looks like.  You want to call me a loser? That's cool, let me show you how much of a loser I can be. The list goes on, even to this day, 12 years later.

I am still trying to figure out what label I am "running with" now. I suppose that I am just trying to be me, but that is where the fallacy of thought comes into play... Why do I have to try to be me? Isn't that something that comes naturally? It is. If I am "trying" to be me, then I am not being me, I am being some idea of me that exists only in my mind.

I am frustrated that I only write about negativity. I understand the philosophy of getting things out and putting them in writing, so that they do not fester in my psyche and cause mental unrest. I have enough of that already. At least I am returning to a more normal sleeping routine; stress and a constant bombardment of thoughts keep me up at night. But I want to write about the positive aspects of my life.

I want to have the intention of writing about the cloudless sky, the face of my daughter, the wonder of nature and its positive energy, the relaxing feeling of sitting poolside all day, the wonders of technology, and so on, and so forth. I want to write about the places I have visited, the people that I have met along the way, the uniqueness of every human being, and the smell of the earth after it rains.

When I read my own writing after a couple of days, or weeks passes, I feel like I want to kill myself. I feel the pain, misery, and sadness just oozing out of the computer screen. I would not like to read anything I write after it is written- it makes me feel depressed and irritated with myself for even writing it in the first place.

There are a great deal of beautiful and wonderful things in my life, that are much more apt for writing about than my failed relationships, feelings of angst, and anger directed at myself. I look around, at this very moment, and I am flooded with positive inspirations. The trees, with the Spanish Moss hanging off the branches, gently swaying in the breeze. The mirrored reflection of the pool, inviting me in for an evening swim. The overweight, and slightly neurotic dog, that adores me, but barks at my child, every time Trinity enters the room. The supremely technological phone, which is playing my very random playlist, at this very moment. There is so much beauty in my world. I refuse to write about negativity today! Even still, I have been doing nothing but complaining about my own negativity, which is negative, in and of itself.

So, what I am saying is that my writing is completely based on my emotions. When I am happy, I see no reason to write; I can share my happiness with my friends and family, either in person, over the phone, or on a social networking site. What I need to start doing is to just write, anything. Does it really matter, what I write? Isn't it writing about telling a story, delivering a message, helping, inspiring, or amusing another?

This is my current objective: pick a topic and write. Write anything, period.

Now Playing:

"Like a Prayer" Madonna

Like a Prayer Video on YouTube

A Collection of Bad Poetry...

Hurricane

The wind blows.

Rain still falls.

Waves crashing to the shore

Like never before.

Trees bend in half.

There is no turning back.

Homes lost to the ocean,

It has no emotion.

What a monster it became,

This storm with a name.

What was in its path,

Is now only aftermath.

But it will soon disappear,

And life will reappear.

Jamie Stutzenburg

Hurricane,Copyright, 2006

 Published in: Timeless Voices,  Page One

2007 Editor's Choice Award

Prison Fantasy World

The games I play

Keep my soul at bay

So that I cannot feel

Anything that is real

Trapped in my bubble

Nothing but trouble

A fantasy world for me

Looping into infinity

But a prison for you

You need the new

Jamie Stutzenburg

January 5, 2008

3:11 p.m.

Voicemail

Oh, why won't you talk to me?

Sorry that I am not what you want me to be.

My heart, body and soul are yours.

But why must I cry so many tears?

All I want to do is talk to you,

To hear your voice, to know it's true.

Ignoring me won't make you better.

I want to know, what is the matter?

What is it that made you stop?

My emotions are a bubble, about to pop

If you would just pick up the phone,

Maybe I would know how to leave you alone.

Jamie Stutzenburg

January 2008

Love is Pain

This is a nightmare

Knowing you are out there

Far from here, away from me.

How can this be?

I feel so much pain

I just cannot refrain

From blaming myself,

Since there is no one else

These wrongs I cannot right

The sick part of me likes to fight

What is there left to do,

When I no longer have you?

Jamie Stutzenburg
January 5, 2008

Serpentine Lovers

You are my life

Words cut like a knife

The jealousy of Naysayers

I now remove my cares

Fulfilling my dream

To be part of a team

One love lost, another gained

We are two souls joined

Like two serpentines

Moments frozen in time

To know is to love

Not below, but above

Through anger and fear

I hold you dear

Surviving the storm

Love in it's purest form

Jamie Stutzenburg

March 28, 2007




New Beginning

Everything is different
Life as I knew it,
has changed completely
But I am not lonely
There is another
We are together
Miles from home
I am not alone
A life left behind
Brings peace to my mind
Your soul speaks to me
 I can finally see
No longer blind
Love, I find
Please hold me forever
And leave me never
My heart is true
I love you!

Jamie Stutzenburg
March 29, 2007




Together

Expressing true emotion,
You feel my devotion
This love you deserve
I do faithfully reserve
This love is for you,
For what I say is true.
We can do this together,
Keep the union we treasure.
The struggles that arise
Result in compromise
There is always a solution
We find a resolution
Alone, we may falter
But together, we prosper
I surrender all illusion
And relinquish my confusion
This love takes much effort
But in you, I take comfort.

Jamie Stutzenburg
April 4, 2007




My Pearl

I am an ocean of emotion
Filled with love and devotion
Our love is like the tide
May it never subside
Waves may knock us over
But our bond gets stronger
My feelings run so deep
So deep, they make me weep
Sometimes, I am like an oyster
Forgetting my pearl of luster
That pearl is my Chris
Who saved me from the Abyss
With a life preserver of love
Which was sent from above

Jamie Stutzenburg
June 6, 2008



Valentine's Day

So they say...
It is Valentine's Day
I have no loot
But, who gives a hoot?
My little rhyme
Is right on time
So I give you
This little tribute
So many things
In my life you bring
Through good times and bad
And even when you make me mad
There is no denying
And I am not lying
When I say how much I love you
And even when I am feeling blue
You hold me tight
And then I feel alright

I love you!
Happy Valentine's Day!

Jamie Stutzenburg
February 14, 2008




Random Love Poem

Come back to me
Fulfill my needs
We can live happily
Without deceitful deeds
You fulfill my soul
Hopefully, we'll never part
You are my survival

Jamie Stutzenburg
Circa 1999

Don't ask me why, maybe out of boredom, I posted some really old poems. I found them in some of the boxes that I was unpacking. I think they suck; but, they came from the heart when they were originally written. I suppose that is all that matters.

"...I am ready. I am fine."

"Colorblind"

Words by Adam Duritz (as Adam F. Duritz)
Music by Adam Duritz (as Adam F. Duritz) and Charles Gillingham
Performed by Counting Crows
Courtesy of DGC Records
Published by EMI Blackwood Music Inc./Jones Falls Music

Links:
Lyrics to Colorblind, Counting Crows
Wikipedia, Cruel Intentions
Buy Soundtrack on Amazon

Closure

In my last postings, I have been vague. This is the story of my online life. I tend to write around things and only discuss my feelings about situations, not about the situations that caused those feelings. I am still having trouble expressing what I have put myself through in black and white.

I put a 100% permanent end to a three year relationship with the father of my child and it feels really good, surprisingly. I bawled today. I haven't cried in the month that we have been separated, other than yesterday, so this was definitely an improvement. As a survival skill, I have repressed every negative feeling and stuffed the would-be tears in the back of the closet of my mind, under the bag of dirty laundry that I am just too lazy to wash. He says he never wants to talk to me again and refuses to be a part of his daughter's life. For Trinity's sake, I hope he changes his mind, one day. I was floored when he said that! She is nearly two-years-old and she loves her daddy. The only thing I am sad about is that Trinity may not remember her father when she grows up and that she might never see him again. The fact that he never wants to speak to me again, is a relief. Our relationship was far from perfect. I will not get into specifics, but it was quite unbearable at times.

I remember a time when I would never have put up with someone treating me wrongly. I am not sure when I lost that part of myself. I suppose it starts with letting just one big thing slide, then another, so on and so forth. At the end of the road, I look back and wonder how I got there in the first place. Everyone who knows the exact nature of my reality is congratulating me on my newly-found, sound decision-making abilities. I think that life might actually start getting better for me from now on; I feel better already. The loose-ends were tearing me apart and I could not take it any longer. I had to act and finally put an end to the continuing emotional distress.

I returned to my hometown to live, for now. It is quite a change. I have lived a mere 20 miles away from New Smyrna Beach, FL for over two years. I was so reluctant to come here, that I only visited this town once, even though I had family living here, and it played such a prominent part of my past. There is a memory around every corner, and it is nearly impossible to go anywhere without bumping into someone that I have known for ages. It may have a decent size population, but New Smyrna is a small town. I guess the best word to describe this place is: quaint. It has charm, there is no doubt about it... but I stayed away for five years for a reason.

I have been living an anonymous lifestyle for so long. People knew me in every place that I have lived, but not like here. People know me here that were in the same Kindergarten class that I was. Some connections are very welcomed, others are dreaded. My ex-fiance of five and a half years lives here with his entire family. This connection is in the dreaded category. Avenue is in order, for the latter.

All I want from life at this exact moment, is to be happy. This is all that I ask of the universe. Happiness and joy are ever-fleeting, like a dream that you forget when you first wake from sleep. I want my dreams to come true! Overall, this has been a positive experience, thus far. I am grateful for my friends and family for never letting me down. Thank you.

Now Playing...

When did I become the damsel in distress? Do I look like I need rescuing?

Feeling like I was about to have a heart attack was terrifying. That would be tragic, to go through so much and to die young. I once wanted to die young, but now I have someone to live for and with, as long as my little precious one will have me.

I don't know whether I am coming or going half the time. I hope that life starts to get easier for me... I don't like to be on a pity-pot and I don't like feeling that nothing will ever change. I can't bear the thought of continuing to make the same mistakes over and over again; complaining all the way, and making excuses. What I really despise is making excuses for the behavior of others and trying to justify their behavior. This makes no sense to me, yet I fall victim to my own mentality towards certain situations. I don't like to be manipulated by my own psyche. If one tells herself something for so long, one starts to believe the lie and it gets integrated into the personality and mind.

I suppose what I am trying to say is that changes are needed and they are slowly being implemented in my life. I am a person that has made copious mistakes and has let herself be degenerated into a tiny fraction of who she really is... The repressed parts are fighting their way to the surface and then I have to deal with those emotions, thoughts, and lost dreams. I always wanted to be great. But I feel that I have cut the parts out of myself that made me who I was inside. I cut out all the parts that were not requisites for my day-to-day survival. I consider myself to be creative and I have created nothing but a drama-filled life full of contradictions and insanity. My true self has been trapped inside this protective bubble that I had to surround myself with, in order to protect myself from further pain. I have caused my own suffering. I have been the cause of my own problems. That thought frightens me because that means that some part of myself wanted the pain and misery that I have experienced.

I don't want to be rescued, I can do that myself. I refuse to be a damsel in distress, crying out to some random stranger to save me from a situation that I created. No one is responsible for my decisions, but I. The lonely I, who stands alone.

Hopefully I will sleep at some point tonight, though I am feeling introspective at this moment, which is never a good sign. Trent Reznor has a way of helping me delve deeper into a pit of depressed thoughts and psychological observations. Though I am not sure that "helping." is the proper terminology, I suppose that was his intent in creating the album, Pretty Hate Machine.

Something I Can Never Have

Balance

When the words come out, it is time to write. I wonder sometimes if I am incredibly failed, or jinxed. It seems at though, no matter what I do, I end up making the wrong decisions and I regret them later; that is, after I have finally figured out that I made the wrong decisions, in the first place. One thing I do not regret is my beautiful daughter. Trinity is truly the light of my life, no matter how cliché that might sound, it is the truth. Trinity is my world.

Now, speaking of Trinity, it is impossible for me to regret anything that came before her conception. That makes my musings rather short. If I were to go into everything that I regretted before Trinity was conceived, I would have an entire book that no one would want to read, except maybe me. Hypothetically speaking, if I regretted just one decision, no matter how insignificant it was at the time, it would wipe out the existence of my daughter. Not to go into the quantum physics, mechanics, and psychology of the nature of time and relativity, but what I am saying here makes sense; at least to me it does. I do not want to get technical, so I suppose that I regret nothing before she came into existence. That leaves me in quite the conundrum at the moment. How can I still regret decisions I made pre-Trinity?

I cannot.

A long time ago, in a place not soon forgotten, I met her father. Trinity’s dad is someone who I would regret ever falling in love with, if I had a choice. Now since I have already clarified that I do not have a choice in this matter, then what is there left to do? Sit here, alone, in my bedroom fruitlessly tapping away at keys, hoping that each tap will get me closer to magically wiping away all the pain and sorrow of the past three years? That is lunacy, yet this is where I am right now. To my right, I have a ruined past, a soiled reputation, and a host of psychological scars that remain unhealed. To my left, I have this beautiful daughter that I feel that I don’t deserve. I guess that is what is called balance.

So, what is next?

So, I am thinking...

...that I started this blog because I had something to say and I needed an outlet to day such things. Now that I have the outlet, the words won't come out.

I have been doing a great deal of soul searching these past few weeks, as it seems that I have nothing but time on my hands and nothing to do with that time. But boredom is a much needed vacation from the drama that has been occuring over the past few months, years, even a decade. I am sure that during this soul searching I have discovered a few things about myself that have been repressed so deep into my psyche, that it pretty much took the Jaws of Life to pry them out. I have several people in my life to thank for helping me to pry these buried emotions and observations out of my soul. These people know who they are and they know how much I appreciate them for helping me through this trying time in my life.

It seems as though I am always looking for answers outside of myself and that is the last place I ought to look, as any answers I seek can only be found within myself. I cannot recall the exact moment that I lost the ability to think for myself, but I know it had something to do with my past relationships. I go for the exact wrong person for me and it usually ends with me feeling like a total train wreck and an idiot for staying so long. But that is really besides the point. I could pick my life apart and all I would have are pieces of a puzzle that would never fit together properly. The choices I have made do not define who I am as a person, as all human beings make mistakes. But the real question that I have been searching for an answer to is: "Who am I?"

I have lost myself in a sea of anarchy and chaos.