Thank You~!

Somehow, while I was away, I managed to get to 100 total likes on my posts! When I first saw it, I couldn’t believe it. I mean, me? With that many likes? Naw… It couldn’t be, right?

But all of you who’ve been following my ramblings, listening to me talk about all sorts of nonsense, you’re the ones who’ve got me to this point. Thank you so much! It makes me feel much better just knowing there are people out there listening to what I have to say, you know? Do you ever get that way, too?

Alrighty, so, here’s my update for the weekend. I’ve pretty much moved in with my “boyfriend” (he apparently dislikes being labeled as such, but more because he hates labeling people in general). We just got a new TV (which is awesome, by the way) and a PS3 with a handful of new games plus what he has on his account. It’s been fun, especially because I surprised him (and I use the term very loosely) with the new Tomb Raider game, which he’s been playing almost nonstop since we got everything set up last night. I got a new RPG, Atelier Ayesha, which has been interesting. And, by interesting, I mean there are irritating voices and a very slow beginning.

The only problem with my moving in has been that we do have to spend time apart during the week. It’s only because there’s a level of professionalism we need to keep at work and, more importantly, transportation issues. Neither of us has a car right now and taxis get expensive after a while, so we’ve been restricted to walking, hitching a ride with other people on the ship, or giving in and getting a cab. I try not to go for taxis as much as possible, mostly because I just don’t like to rely on them after one left me hanging all morning (did you know there are people who STILL don’t own cell phones? #FirstWorldProblems)

Well, now that I think about it, I guess it really isn’t a problem. I just have to learn how to deal with it and use me time again. Which is weird because we pretty much smothered each other in the beginning. I don’t know how many other couples do that and, frankly, I don’t really care. I just want this to work. Which, for me, means I need to have time to devote to my physical fitness (the PRT- physical readiness test- is just around the corner), studying for ESWS (Enlisted Surface Warfare Specialist), and just taking care of myself as a person.

It’s weird, but I’m starting to see myself as someone of worth. Is it through the number of likes I’ve gotten here? Partially. But I think it’s more the way I’ve been able to rationally organize my thoughts here while still keeping myself true to what I’m feeling. It’s making me a better person, being able to both recognize and categorize my emotions without cheapening them or pretending they’re something they’re not. There’s something truly liberating about being this way and I don’t plan to stop here. This is just the beginning.

I’m going to keep writing, keep drawing, keep thinking, and start doing. And I hope to keep seeing you along the way~! <3


On Friendship

I’ve been thinking a lot lately. Typically for me, that means the smoke detectors are going off and I should stop, drop, and roll, but, this time, I’ve managed to bypass that bit.

I have a lot of friends. Most of them aren’t near me and that makes living a normal life difficult. But there are some things about friendship that I’ve realized and I thought it might behoove me to share. Because sharing is caring, right?

So, first on the list.

Being friends doesn’t mean you trust them with everything.

I have a great number of friends that I simply cannot tell everything to. They’re gossipers and, while I understand and accept this about them, I don’t like personal things being spread around. I know lots of people who seem to think that being friends means that you trust them and can open up and tell them everything and, for a while, I thought that was true.

But I’ve realized, through a friend of mine that I’ve found I can’t trust, that I can still be friends with a person like that. I could never tell her about who I’m seeing or how I feel about someone else without her telling the world about it. But, and this might just be that I’m naive and don’t know any better, but I still like her as a person. She’s fun to be around and I care about her and her family.

Friends may come and go, but that’s no reason to stop trying to make new ones.

This has been a toughie for me and it still is. I’m in a highly transient job, being in the Navy and all. I move a lot. And I made friends a while back in Great Lakes, IL, friends that I wish I could still see because we were always able to have such wonderful fun together. But, when I transferred and they ended up on other sides of the world, I felt like there was little point in trying to make friends because they’d end up leaving or I would. And making friends just to lose them was about as appealing as sticking my head in a heated oven and slamming the door shut.

But, lately, I’ve begun to see that it’s not about that at all. Just because we don’t see each other doesn’t mean we’re not friends anymore. Just because they have other friends doesn’t mean I mean any less to them. If we aren’t always together, that’s fine. Best friends forever doesn’t have to apply to every single friendship.


I swear, I thought I had more to it than this. Maybe it’s just because they’re both very BIG realizations…

What Really Helps

It’s not some motivational book sitting on the shelf at the grocery store, looking like the title alone has you figured out. It’s not a handful of inspiring quotes sitting around on your walls to remind you that you’re a wonderful person.

And it is most definitely not someone holding your hand and telling you everything will be all right.

What really helps you become a better you is time. Time and a genuine desire to be better. It’s how you react to the world around you. It’s knowing that your reactions aren’t good or bad, that there is no single action that is supremely evil or inherently good. But there are actions that are who you are and actions that are who you aren’t.

The problem with all these self-help books (and I’m not by any means bashing them – there are some really good tips in some of them) is that they generalize. They don’t know who you are. They can’t tell you exactly how to let go of your past and embrace who you are. Only you can tell yourself how to be yourself.

So, how do you do that when you’re feeling completely lost and confused? How can you get help from yourself when you don’t really even know who you are?

I don’t know. I really don’t know. I haven’t figured it out yet. But, as Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “Life is a journey, not a destination.”

Maybe the best way to help yourself be a better you is to just keep going. Make decisions, take risks, and put yourself first. Sacrifice for the greater good may be necessary sometimes, but it should never be the first thing you do.

One Of Those Moments

Where you hurt, have a vague idea as to why, but can’t pinpoint it and put it down into words. I’m having one of those and I think that’s what’s going to kill what I have going for me right now.

I know I’m just depressed. And that’s why I’m trying not to say anything to him right now. What I say when I’m depressed and what I say when I’m not are like… the words of two totally different people. Yes, it’s all me, but the differences are massive. When I’m not depressed, I’m full of snark and wit, but, when I’m depressed and people try to “cheer me up,” I just start clinging to my depression. It’s stupid and stubborn, but that’s what I do.

I think it comes from years and years of my dad acting like I had no right to the way I feel. He would always tell me to stop bitching or, if I told him that something he did made me feel a certain way, he’d tell me that, no, it didn’t and that I was being stupid. And I’d just cling to it. Whatever it was, I’d hold onto it. Because I’d be damned if I let him tell me he knew what I was feeling better than I did. People can tell me they know more than me all they want, but no one knows what I’m feeling better than I do. No one.

And every time someone tells me to stop crying or that there’s no reason to get upset, it just hurts more. Because I have every right to hurt. I have every right to feel what I’m feeling. Even this incredible, intense ache I’m feeling now, I have every right to experience it.

The world doesn’t like to see a girl cry, but what happens when the girl wants to cry?

Why can’t I enjoy my pain as much as my laughter? Why can’t my tears stand just as tall as my thoughts? It just seems so silly that the rest of the world doesn’t see the value of all emotions. We try so desperately to fix what doesn’t need fixing. Being sad, that’s human. Loving someone so much that it almost physically hurts to watch them walk away for a week, that’s human. And, if I plan to be a strong human being, I can’t stifle certain emotions in favor of others. I can’t cut out the sorrow just because joy is preferable.

It’s just not right to do that to myself. I’d be cheating myself if I did.

Dreams vs. Reality

For me, this has always been a difficult subject. See, I’ve always had that little blur between possible and impossible in my head. Granted, I’d never act on it (would I be here if I did?), but it’s been there.

And, as crazy as I know it will label me as, I feel like it’s time to share with the world just why that is.

I have dreams. Dreams that eventually come true, as cliche as it sounds. The thing is that they’ve always been of fairly innocent, inconspicuous things. Dropping a grape on the ground, following someone up the stairs at work, things like that.

No, I’m not one of those, “I saw 9/11 before it happened in a dream” types. No, I don’t claim to know any more than the average person regarding major events in human history. I couldn’t be so fortunate.

No, what I’ve seen is far more intimate and mentally destabilizing. I’ve indirectly seen a close friend’s death months before it happened. I’ve seen classrooms I’ve never been in turn out to be my freshman homeroom. I’ve seen someone I love dearly walking ahead of me after we got together…. before I ever knew we’d be this close.

Needless to say, this has been a very trying topic for me for a long time. I’d always thought it was a neat little thing that I might want to pick apart in my adult years, but, after I lost LyKhel, I really wanted it to just go away. Who should ever have to know when their friends are going to die? That kind of thing shouldn’t belong to any human being and I envy the world for not having that burden.

That’s part of the reason I’ve loved Doctor Who so much. Aside from lovable characters and a brilliant plot, I drew something of a sense of hope from the way the Doctor could see what was and wasn’t supposed to happen and still managed to keep going, to stop bad things from happening at all costs.

I wanted to be him. I wanted to know what would happen and that I could still change it. So long as it wasn’t something that absolutely had to happen, what they called in the show a “fixed point.”

Yes, I know I’m blurring fiction and reality. But when my reality is so close to fiction, where else should I look?

I don’t want to turn to some quack or a self-professed psychic for help. I don’t like telling others about this because I know it sounds like I’m delusional. I know how it seems to most people.

I just wish I knew how to switch it off because it could really kill the relationship I’m in now. It’s making me think about things that just don’t need to be thought about. It’s making me wish I could go back and change things for the “better.”

But I don’t think I’d be much better off in that situation, you know?

The Keeper of Unshed Tears

This is a little fluff that I wrote out of boredom. It occurred to me that I haven’t really posted any writing other than venting about my problems, random musings, and relationship stuff. Now, how can I claim to be  a writer if I don’t have any writing to share?

Anyway, let me know what you think. This one’s quite near and dear to my heart.

Every day, she passes the Warriors, the Scholars, and the Lovers, a distant ache in her heart and tears stinging in her eyes. She is their Sorrow Bearer, the Keeper of Unshed Tears.

The Warriors scold her, though they know better. They call her public tears disgraceful and unbecoming, though each fallen tear is to mourn a fallen comrade. Each drop of anguish from her eyes is a weight off their hearts, allowing them to fight the battles she never could.

The Scholars explain that her melancholy is irrational or that it is a hormonal imbalance. They say they can fix her with a pill though they would never give it to her. They know better, understand the terrible pain they would feel should she cease to bear the burden of their fears.

The Lovers try to tell her that she will never find her true love if she carries on the way she does. No man would want someone who cries so much. But the tears from every failed relationship, every sleight from the mouth of a vicious Lover has been borne by the Sorrow Bearer.

Not once does she doubt the nobility of her calling. The Keeper of Unshed Tears knows well the agony the world would endure without her. But every so often, she watches them live their lives. The Warriors march to battle and those who return are celebrated as heroes. The Scholars unravel the mysteries of the world and share them with an eager audience. Even the Lovers who lay about in each others’ arms writing of their eternal affections are adored for their humanity.

But no one sings the praises of the Sorrow Bearer. She sits lonely in the shadows, loving each and every person in the world for their humanity, never asking to be loved herself.

Then, everything changed.

The man who refused to surrender his pain, who swore to bear it all on his shoulders, came to her and asked why she let the rest of the world abuse her so.

“Because I love them,” she replied simply. “I bear their sorrows, their fears and regrets, because I love them.”

The man was astonished. In an unprecedented swift motion, he reached out and clutched her tightly, tears spilling down his cheeks and onto the Keeper’s shoulder.

In that moment, a weight was lifted from her shoulders and the Sorrow Bearer felt her heart pound rapidly, a new, unknown feeling surging through her like a jolt of electricity.

“Why did you do that?” she asked, frightened and glad all at once.

“Because I love you.”

Polar Opposites

I don’t know how many of you are familiar with the Jung personality typology, but, a long time ago, I took an online test to see which type I was. It was just sheer boredom.

The result I got then was INTJ, which basically translates to being super rational and placing logic above everything. Which made sense. At that point in time, I was someone who wanted to almost completely erase emotion. It seemed pointless to put emotion into work, which was all I had.

Anyway, sometime this last week, I got bored and got it into my head to take the test again. I wanted to see if, with all the changes in my life, my result would change, too. Guess what it was?


ISFJs are characterized above all by their desire to serve others, their “need to be needed.” In extreme cases, this need is so strong that standard give-and-take relationships are deeply unsatisfying to them; however, most ISFJs find more than enough with which to occupy themselves within the framework of a normal life.

There’s a lot more to that profile, but yeah. Massive difference. I don’t know if it’s an improvement or a regression, but I like where I am now. I’m getting more and more comfortable with who I am, which I honestly never thought would happen. I kind of always hoped to be this painfully awkward, quiet girl who gets people but can’t for the life of her talk to them.

In a lot of ways, I’m still that girl. I’m still someone who holds back what I want to say for the sake of those around me. But I don’t let people walk all over me. Not all the time, at least.