Home again, Home again

Back in my hometown after an extended stay away. I wasn't going to come back ever...but I decided to finish up my Masters Degree and then move away to do my PhD. It's weird and a little scary to be back. It's all familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time. I'm not sure how I'll do here. I know now that I'm stronger than I was before, but I still have those nagging doubts and worries that I'll slip up and go back to my old life, that I'll screw up again. But, I can't let that happen. I'm in constant battle with myself to fight against urges, emotional urges that make me feel tied to that life and a particular person who was a part of that life. If I do that my life will be over though, I will be unable to recover and I know that. I will permanently become everything I don't want to be and I will suffer for it.

So I'm here and I'm apprehensive about my future because I have to fight harder than I'veever fought before to keep my life on track. I guess we'll see where life takes me and where I allow myself to go.

Been a while.

It's been a few days since I posted. So, here I am writing. Not sure what to say. Been spending some time with the extended family. I'm trying to reconnect after a prolonged estrangement, and although at times akward, it's going surprisingly well. I'm happy to be here and happy to see all of them. I hadn't even met my baby cousin John Carl yet, and he was born in the fall (or winter depending on where you divide the seasons). It's been great meeting the adorable little guy and spending time with my grandparents, uncles and aunts, little cousins, and my mom. It reminds me of who I used to be before the whole mess began and what I want in moving forward from here.

Though I am a completely changed woman in so many ways, family and the bonds and love therein are still incredibly important to me. I was lost without them much in the same way I felt lost without literature and academia. I cannot stand to disappoint them again and betray their trust again. Thus my resolve has been further fortified by these few days spent with them and the perspective this stay has given me. I love them all with all my heart, and nothing is going to make me put these relationships at risk again.

My truth

It's funny. When I have a pen in my hand or I'm at the keyboard, I feel like I'm complete, like somehow if I just keep writing, even if what flows out isn't any good, my world will make sense. Like the pen (or keyboard) are an extension of myself...my only way to leave my mark on the world, my contribution.

Even if no one ever reads my blog (or any of my other written musings), at least I put it out there, at least I'm trying. My mind is always so filled with thoughts and ideas that I could never manage to get them all out even if I tried. But, that being said, it certainly doesn't hurt to try. Maybe dedicating my life to the written word is silly and frivolous, but I guess what I have to say to that is, what isn't frivolous in this world?

I was convinced for several months that everything I ever loved and dedicated my life to was worthless and pointless. Basically I was told that if it didn't teach me how to make a large amount of money extremely fast, it wasn't worthwhile. I, in turn, was worthless as well because I was not equipped with the "street" skills he had nor did I think in the manner that he did.

He had a mind filled with half-cocked schemes and dreams of money, money and more money. I had a literary mind filled with wild stories and fantastic characters. I dreamt of fighting windmills with Don Quijote, dating vampires with Sookie Stackhouse and Bella Swan, and toying with people's lives with Celestina. Beautiful words and witty turns of phrase brought light to my eyes. I smiled and cried along with my favorite characters and authors.

But because these things that so enlivened me were deemed worthless by the man I loved, I abandoned them completely. And from that moment on, darkness enveloped my life and my heart suffered. Literature had been my soul, and without it I was a zombie going through the motions of life. All this I did in the name of two things a man I loved and money. The money never came...well, in actuality it did, but the man who had stolen both my heart and soul also stole my money and any money that came in from our endeavors that strictly adhered to his rules of life (i.e. money at all costs, nothing was off-limits and nothing was too extreme if it made you cash fast).

So moneyless and soulless, I persistently continued down my path of destitution in the name of love of bad man who didn't deserve my love, and even less my money and my soul. But eventually that situation self-combusted as it had always been destined to do. And from the ashes, I rose again like the phoenix, and one of the first things I did was pick up a book and start reading again (Drown by Junot Diaz if you were interested), and then I picked up a pen and started jotting down notes. The keyboard became like a new best friend to me, someone to share my thoughts and stories with. And slowly my soul came back. Now, I no longer feel like a zombie. I am whole again, I am human again.

Furthermore, I have a thought of my own about my passion, well, one of my passions. Literature and writing are not frivolous at all. In fact, the written word is, in my humble opinion, the pinnacle of achievement for the human race. Imagine humanity if no one had started to record their histories on cave walls and tablets. Imagine where we'd be without Homer and Shakespeare, Dostoyevsky and Cervantes, Richard Wright and Virginia Woolf. If no one had ever written, we'd have no film, no music, no literature, no history...humanity would cease to exist as we know it.

Literature is in no way, shape, or form worthless. You can learn so much from literature...history, culture, perception, perspective, philosophy, and the list goes on and on. e can learn life lessons via the turmoils characters go through. We can experience great adventures and great sorrows vicariously through the written word. There's nothing in the world like it.

So, as a woman who's soul has been stripped away from her and who has fought to restore it (who is still fighting for it), I say this. Never let anyone convince you that what you love is worthless, because it is the equivalent of allowing them to deem you worthless! And nobody in this world can afford to feel that way. And even more nobody has the right to make you feel that way.

Nobody is worthless if they have a passion in this life and they dedicate themselves to it. My passions happen to include the study of and indulgence in literature, film, and music. Whatever yours may be...engineering, philosophy, art, medicine, education, culinary arts, welding, sales, anything...always stick to what you love. That is the only way to be successful. That is the only way to truly be yourself. Who cares if you make tons of money if you're miserable doing it. Love and passion are the most important things in life. Love who you are, love what you do. And never let anyone make you feel the way he made me feel.

So my truth is this. I love literature, I love film, and I love music. I love academia and teaching. This is what I want to do with my life...write, teach and live literature, film, and music. So that's exactly what I intend to do. There's no way someone is ever going to convince me to abandon my passions or my soul again.

Not me

To you I'm too complicated,


too confusing,


too much work,


not worth the effort.




But that's not me,

let me tell you about me.

Just because I think for myself,

doesn't make me a bitch

Just because I have needs,

doesn't make me a ho

Just because I loved you,

doesn't mean my life is over

Just because I got pregnant,

doesn't mean I have to give up on my dreams

Just because I lost my baby,

doesn't mean I will fall apart

Just because, Just because, Just because.

I am me, I am strong, I will go on,

I will keep fighting

If you don't see me, if you think I'm too complicated, if you don't think I'm worth the effort,

then keep on walking

because you just don't get it

Just because you think you got it all figured out,

doesn't mean you're not a fool

Just because you can't control me,

doesn't mean I'm too much drama

Just because you made me leave,

doesn't mean I won't come back with a vengeance

Just because, Just because, Just because.

I am me, I see me, I love me.

Whatever you throw at me now,

I can take it.

So don't test me sugar

because I'm a new woman

And I won't be conquered again.

It Goes to Show Ya...

that if you spend months on end sleeping with and foolishly in love with a rap-obsessed man, that even though the man is out of your life, the influence of the music remains. This is a little something I wrote...the first couple lines just popped into my head and it flowed out from there before I even realized that it had rap-like rhythms. And for the record this white-bred Midwestern girl has absolutely NO interest in being a rapper...but it is what it is.

Subjective, objective

Subject, object

Which one am I?

Well I know I ain't an object.

I'm a person, I'm a lady, I'm a fucking enterprise,

And I know there's more to me than what lies between my thighs.

And if only you fuckers looked me dead in the eyes

Then you'd know that I know what I know you don't know.

I'm smarter than y'all by leaps and bounds,

You waste your time chasin' chicks like mother fuckin' hounds.

So yeah, that's what poured out of me one recent afternoon. Kind of makes me laugh that the voice that came from within was so unlike what I've sounded like before, but inspiration is inspiration, and I figure it's always good to explore new ways of self-expression...but hopefully my mind won't make a habit of wanting to express itself like Lil Wayne.

The last...

The last in a string of disappointments and shattered hopes. At least I know it's finally over. At least, its finally over for me. This was the last straw...and there have been many moments before when it should have been just that and wasn't. But I'm coming back to town in a week. And I'm a changed woman. I can't go back to being the person I was with him, and he can't move beyond what he was, is, and forever will me. It's sad but not entirely unexpected.

The end of my birthday represents the beginning of a new chapter in my life. There was the pre-J, the year of the J, and the post J. We've now entered the period of post-J, and while it's hard to fathom going back to my town and not spending all my time with him as I did before, I know I can and must do it. Go back, go to school, apply for PhD programs elsewhere and maintain my focus. That's the only way I can get through this and build a real life for myself. A life that I enjoy living, that does not make me constantly miserable. A life that does not include a man whose sole purpose is to bring misery and pain to women...whose sole function in this world is to teach us all a lesson in how fucked up a person can get, and how they can take out their self-loathing on others. Goodbye forever. This is the start of something new, and I'm going to succeed in this world without you.

Don't

Don't call me daughter

you were never my father.

The rum is what you truly love,

more than family, more than life

you drink because you deserve it

you work hard, so you have to play hard...

excuse me while I vomit hard.

I'm sick of your excuses.

I'm sick of your entitlement.

I'm not really your daughter.

You don't know me

no idea who I am

no idea what I feel

no idea how I think

because your brain is clouded and muddled

with clouds of tobacco smoke and rivers of rum

You never were my father

so why start now?

I'm twenty-five

I'm grown

and yes I make mistakes

but they're mine to make

my life to live

so go drink yourself into a stupor someplace else,

I don't want to see it.

You're not my father.

I'm not your daughter.

My Birthday...

I turn 25 in less than an hour, and I can't help but wonder what happened in the past year...the wasted year (and that works on many levels). I can't help but think that this was the year that changed everything, where my entire world fell apart. I don't want to celebrate this birthday nor even acknowledge it. It's like a bad dream. This whole year was like a nightmare. The impossible happened.


Things I couldn't even dream of when I turned 24 happened this year, my world shifted and expanded. I lost everything and had everything taken from me. Forgive me if talk of my birthday enrages me. Forgive me if I dismiss all of your drunken attempts to force me into merriment. Forgive me if just looking at you as you drink yourself into another stupor disgusts me. Forgive me if after I'm back on my feet I don't want to have to talk to you. I can't stand the images in my head...you represent the path I was taking, what I could have turned into if I allowed them to convince me to keep drinking the way I was before. A life of denial, a life of excuses for vices, a life of unfulfilled dreams and unreached goals.


So, no I don't want to talk about my birthday. No I don't want to go out and do some contrived activity with the family that I just happen to be staying with. No, I don't give a damn what we eat. Back off. I'd rather spend the whole day alone with my thoughts and a notebook than deal with this shit. I'm still trying to dig myself out of a hole that penetrated the earth's crust and headed straight for it's core. The past year was my own personal Armageddon and I'm not quite out of it and into Paradise yet. So just leave me be and let me deal with everything in my own way. Is that so much to ask?

How I'm feeling now

I started this blog as a way to post the rough draft of a period in my life that has shaped me in immeasurable ways, that tested my faith in myself and in the world, that nearly killed me emotionally and probably could have physically if I had allowed it to go on. While I am beginning to realize the benefits of the experience and knowledge I acquired during this time, I also cannot seem to get past the parts that make me feel ashamed, that make me want to weep. I suppose that's only natural at this point, I'm not even a month-removed from it all. But the truth is, I want to post it all, in all the gory details, but at the same time I'm afraid of the world knowing the truth, my truth. I suppose this fear is natural, fear of repercussions teamed with the fear of humiliation, but I'm going to fight through it no matter what. i can't allow this story to go untold, and I can't wait to write it. I need it to be fresh in my memory or even more of the details will be lost.

At the moment, I do not have the next chapter of the story complete, but I do have this...the man who caused all of this trouble in my life sent me an e-mail yesterday, and it decidedly got under my skin, especially the part where he called me a c***. But more than that, just the fact that he's in contact in such a way got to me, made me think about him. And last night he haunted my dreams like a spirit out for vengeance, determined to ruin my life, to take away my progress and drag me back into the hell of life with him. He was all I could think about today too, everywhere I turned there was a reminder of him...music, restaurants, movies, anything and everything. And so...these words came to mind tonight while I was fighting back tears at awful memories of my recent past...here goes:

demonic rage-black ink
possession golden sweet

silken energies club-beaten

wind-torn flesh

burning faces inside

pawnshop pushers piccolo

aching house dread-ridden

foul summonings medium-rare

broken saints seance

dead into the soul

Welcome to my World

I used to be an intelligent woman. I was dedicated and smart, kind and reliable. I was on my way to a Masters Degree. I had good friends with whom I was evenly yoked. I had goals and plans for the future, and there was no possible reason that I wasn’t going to one day achieve those goals. I had everything in the world going for me. But then I met him and my world fell apart, everything unraveled and I was left with almost nothing. I’m not telling you this to tell a sob story. I don’t want your sympathy. I don’t deserve it. Every decision I made was my own, and every consequence is my responsibility. Yes, this man is very much to blame for my destitution, but I am too. I also don’t need or want you chastisement, because believe me I’ve heard it all before from every source imaginable…family, friends, roommates, relative strangers, neighbors, even the police. The worst chastisement has come from myself, because through the whole thing, I honestly knew better.

Being the person that I am though, I figured that I needed to turn the worst ordeal of my life into something useful, even if not exactly useful to myself. It’s too late to undo all the damage I did to my life. So instead, I’m writing this and hoping that I can spare some other woman from this kind of misery and stupidity. I don’t consider myself wise and I’m certainly not an authority on life. But I am the only person who knows the whole story of what happened in mine, and if even one other woman can benefit from the depths of my stupidity, I feel the whole ordeal will have been worthwhile.

Some may think upon reading what is to come that I’m writing this out of revenge, to get back at the man who is the root cause of all of my current problems. This is simply not the case either. Karma will take care of him one day, and I’ll have nothing to do with it, because I want nothing more to do with him. Once the story’s off my chest, then I will have purged him from my life and heart once and for all, at least I sincerely hope so. Ladies (and gentlemen), please learn from my many, many mistakes. And I leave you to the story with one final warning: Do not try this at home!