blah blah stuff

So I'm continuing to mull over myself. I've begun to face up to something that I've long known, namely that I go out of my way to protect other people from myself. I don't tell people things about myself, not because I don't feel comfortable talking about them, but because me talking about them makes other people uncomfortable. I don't want to contaminate anyone with my own personal darkness. Like I am dangerous just to be near because me being what I am makes people sad.
I just thought to myself that I had better keep my boyfriend off of my backlist so that he doesn't read this blog and get upset by the things that I think, that I hope my father doesn't find it while out blog trolling for people with common interests because then he might feel bad about not being first rate father material if he reads some of my earlier posts.
I hate secrets, but they can be so necessary. Especially if I want to blend in with everyone else. I've written about that before.
Now that I've had my profound thought for the predawn hour- off to caffeinate. There are midterms in my future.

still here, damnit

i do exist. my life has been in one of those peek change phases where everything reorders itself. i've been mulling it over. that's why i haven't written; because i was likely to change my mind so many times that this kind of honest blogging might be more destructive than constructive.
i've been thinking a lot about me, and what makes me tick, and what other people think of that.
growing up i had this friend that only ever wanted to be thin and beautiful, have long hair, and go to acting school in New York. She fought her way out of being the chunky afro haired freckly Irish kid and did all of those things. I told her how happy I was for her before she left, when we were about 18. She hadn't remembered ever saying that those were her goals, and when i reminded her she was stunned that she had obtained them all, that she had known what she wanted so young. then she said "all i remember you ever wanting to do was save the world and everyone in it".
it was weird, having someone clue me in to a basic fact about myself before i did. it was like the truth was written in the back of my mind and she had translated it.
i do want to save the world. i am most comfortable when i am helping other people. nothing else that i have ever done feels right. i am uncomfortable thinking of myself first; it makes my skin crawl.
when i was a kid i was always organizing kids for saving earth clubs and talking about the ozone layer and the plight of the manatee. whan i was older my mom started keeping me out of school and having me take care of my sister's kids-sometimes for a week at a time. i criticize her for this, it was hard on my grades and ruined my chance to matriculate directly to a four year college. her apathy to my needs was inexcusable. but the truth is that i was comfortable taking care of people. i needed to, after awhile. when my sisters kids no longer needed my intevention there were always school kids. i've talked people down from suicide and i've held male rape victimes while they cried (never bonded with women for some reason). i never minded a bit because doing that felt right and nothing else did.
i know that reduced to psychobabble this could be construed as a direct result of my abusive and neglectful upbringing, in which i was pushed into a caretaker role and taught that i was unimportant. but the truth is that taking care of people is the only thing i know how to do.
a few years back my mother went out of her way to fracture our family (an issue for another blog). what i remember being the hardest was the knowledge that there wasn't anyone to need me anymore; that i no longer had a purpose. i knew how to take care of everybody else, but i never learned how to take care of msyself, and thats pretty much where i'm at right now.

Absolutely Seething

I was just reading the news stories about the man that barged into a school, sexually assualted six girls, and then killed one, followed by the story of the man who killed five, shot ten, and had ky jelly and an eyeletted bondage board.
Now the sons of bitches are giving each other ideas.
When Columbine happened I was in my junior year of high school a state away, hearing the news updates every class period. All day long there was pervasive panic and dread. What happened there was horrific, and yet it occured to me at the time that one day we might see people doing this to schools and commiting sex crimes as a matter of opportunity, or even motivation instead of sticking to the usual murder and mayhem. I was just becoming aware of how much more common sex crimes are than murder.
I hate it when I'm right.
Strictly speaking I'm not a religious person, but if I had a religion, it wouldn't be one of the forgiving ones. I very much hope that if there is a hell, these men go there.
I wish that I had something nicer to say tonight. I just really don't.

Insomnia....crap

The sad side effect of pulling all nighters every week for a month is that eventually every night becomes an all nighter. And I've studied til I just can't do it. Obviously it is finally blog time.
One of my nieces is about to turn fifteen. This gives me an unpleasantly old feeling. In conjunction with my grey hairs, worry crinkle, and general old used uppedness I'm feeling damned near geriatric.
A few years ago my sister contacted me in the dead of morning to ask me if I would make some time for my neice and be the official "cool older relative" . I recall that I was lounging around in my best grungy rubber ducky pajama pants and that my greasy hair was plastered upright at attention. I was also gnawing on a little debbie snack cake and standing in front of the livingroom mirror admiring the carnage from my late night of watching internet cartoons. There were crumbs down the front of my shirt, which was also grungy and said "Deart Artie, hate you, hate Camelt, took Lance-Gwennie."
"I don't think I'm exactly cool older relative material", I told her with my customary morning bluntness. "You should ask Lee".
Lee is our new potential sister in law, who is a bisexual wiccan and dresses like every day is a renfaire or an excursion to Hot Topic. Bisexual wiccan versus greasy crumb girl? In this day and age I lose in the coolness area.
"Last time I left her with Lee I came back and she had the brat and four of her friends cursing one of the neigbors".
"Oh." Apparently Lee wasn't a particualry good wiccan. And then, because I had to ask, "what kind of curse?"
"The kind that got me phone calls from the other parents" she said darkly.
My sister is also Wiccan and tries to keep the little ones out of it. She lives in the only California extension of the Bible belt. I suddenly recalled that all of the cool older relatives that I had were extremely polished looking and had those cute matching shoe and purse sets; I looked down at my bitten up nails.
"Does this mean that I have to get shoe and purse sets?" I like starting these thoughts in the middle with my sister. It makes her so frustrated.
"Uhm....no."
"What do I do?"
"Just talk to her about stuff. Hang out with her. Give her an adult that isn't me to advise her."
Oh. That. "So pretty much I just buy her ice cream and tell her not to smoke pot or sleep with boys."
"Er..." I love frustrating my sister. It needs to be restated. "Among other things".
"I'm screwing with you. I knw what you want, and really, its no problem".
As it turns out, it really wasn't. All I have to do is let her play with my cd collection, wear my formals aroung the house and watch my Buffy the Vampire Slayer collection; it works itself out. I was just adapting to her being fourteen. Now she had to throw a wrench in my works by turning fifteen. How dare she.
Next thing you know she'll be sixteen.
Obviously this is a conspiracy against me personally, and not part of the natural ageing process.
And on top of the emotional trauma of suddenly finding out that I've gotten old, I have to think up a gift.