R.I.P.

"The moment we begin to fear the opinions of others and hesitate to tell the truth that is in us, and from motives of policy are silent when we should speak, the divine floods of light and life no longer flow into our souls." - - - Elizabeth Cady Stanton

My uncle died on Sunday, from a cancer he'd been battling with for the past two years. My parents neglected to tell me about it until after the fact, thus continuing a long history of "protection" via silence. Is that what happened when they sold the house I grew up in? I spent the first 17 years of my miserable existence in a home that I loved, and I came home from school one day to find a for sale sign garishly mounted in the front yard. And people wonder why I have trust issues. As I've said in a previous post, I have a hard time dealing with people who withhold truths...but I truly think that the worst type of lies are those that seek to "protect" people from the harshness of the truth; lies we tell children to save them from suffering, lies we tell our friends so we won't hurt their feelings about one thing or another...I found out my other uncle was dying from AIDS shortly before his final birthday on Christmas Day. I was away at boarding school, and despite sensing that something was wrong, my father assured me that everything was as it should be. It wasn't until I was on holiday from school that they told me, and then they didn't want me to be there when they visited him because they wanted to spare me the sight of his decaying flesh. Tell me, which is more cruel...allowing me to suffer through a few moments of discomfort as I took my uncle's hand and told him I loved him...or allowing me to regret not being able to say goodbye to a man I respected and loved for the rest of my days, simply because it would be too painful at the time? This most recent death...of my uncle George...came so swiftly to my world that I didn't have the benefit of saying goodbye. I hadn't spoken to him since my wedding three years ago. Not that I didn't think of calling him - or my other relatives for that matter - I just found other things to do. Had I but known the situation, I would have made time to call...perhaps even to visit when I was back east this past June. But that was taken from me by parents who wanted to spare me ...from what? From life? I've seen plenty of what life has to offer, both good and bad, and as scarred as I am, I relish every experience, for it has made me who I am. All I can say is that I vow here and now to NEVER lie to my children, not about the Easter Bunny or Santa Claus, and certainly not about death and suffering. I certainly don't want them mistrusting everyone that enters their world as I have for so long.
~Dawn

Untitled

So as you can see, I'm wonderfully consistent with my writings. I go through spurts; some weeks I have much to say and others are, well, rather devoid of musings altogether. I've spent the last week engulfed in the game "Fable." While it's definitely a good rpg, it left a bit to be desired. I solved it in about 15 hours, that was with quite a bit of wandering around trying to find "neat stuff." The producers of the game said that the average player will spend 50 - 70 hours playing it. I'm not sure how I see that as possible. However, there are rumors that there are a plethora of easter eggs. I'm now determined to begin anew and search more thoroughly. At any rate, that's what I've been doing with my time. On Saturday night, I got my shoulder tattoo updated and generally beautified. I had hated it so much, as it was faded and had no artistic depth to speak of. Thanks to Rob at Tattoo Machine in Puyallup, it looks absolutely righteous. So I'm a tad sore, and I'm trying REALLY hard not to pick at the inky scabs.

Everybody! Everybody!

Everybody! Everybody!

One of my favorite online cartoons...I'm expecially partial to Strongbad's emails.

Defiance

I haven't had much to say lately. I'm not sure why I find that so surprising...usually I can't shut up. The powers that be must have installed that muzzle they've been threatening me with. Or something. So I suppose tonight's topic will be my overall frustration with humanity. For those of you that don't know me, and for those of you who simply haven't figured it out yet, I have a strenuous time liking people. Call it discriminating tastes, or anti-social tendencies, the result is the same: there are very few people in this world that I can tolerate. And it's not that I think myself better than everyone else....that's not always the case, anyway :P...I think it just has to do with my strong knowledge of my likes and dislikes, and unfortunately, most people embody that which I vehemently dislike. So feel blessed, those of you I call my friends. Ok, now I REALLY sound full of myself. I understand full well that I, like everyone else, am ultimately a gnat in the grand scheme of the cosmos. But I've never fit in, nor wanted to for that matter. I'm not one to follow the herd, for want of a better euphemism, and for that I am routinely ostracized and generally gawked at. So I'm nearly 30 and still enjoy acting like I'm 5. And? Maybe I don't see any value in becoming a repressed, overly stuffy and "responsible" stereotypical adult that dear old mom constantly reminds me I should be. I have no interest in wearing the mantle of society's view of the average adult. I am, after all, far from average: that much I know. And why should I repress my fun-loving mean streak, just because it might scar a few children? Take, for example, one of my naughty little Christmastime fantasies of running through the line of kids waiting to get into you-know-who's lap and shouting "Santa's not real, kids! Your parents are liars!" just to see how parents would react...would they tell their children the truth? (On a side note, I told my therapist this, and he thought it was hilarious...is he as twisted as I am?) I don't know why, but I've always relished in making people feel uncomfortable. Perhaps I'm a tension whore, but it's fun to watch people squirm when they have to acknowledge the truth in one form or another. I guess it just stems from a hatred of dishonesty...and I'm not just talking about the blatant lies people tell for one reason or another...I'm talking about the more subtle and insidious lies we often tell ourselves as a coping mechanism. I guess I don't understand how so many people can work so hard to deny themselves the truth just to avoid a little pain...so they can continue living in their pastoral realms of sugar-coated...everything. And all the while they live one big grandiose lie. It's sad, really, and I've therefore committed myself to living for the truth, whatever the cost. I'm done trying to be what others expect me to be, of withholding my true feelings in order to spare another's. I'll say what I will, and if you disagree or don't like it, you can take a flying fuck at the moon. God I love Vonnegut. So there you have it, folks, tonight's cerebral vomit. Please exit to the right.

Meh

The past few days have found me relatively inactive, save for the time spent playing Neverwinter Nights. It's hopelessly addictive, seeing as there are nearly 4,000 modules to download, not to mention a vast online community that regularly schedules gaming sessions. I've already solved the game and the two expansion packs put out by Bioware, so I've been losing myself in player-constructed dramas. I guess I'm a bit of a geek after all. Makes sense that I'm married to a Microsoft man. The in-laws are here until tomorrow night, although yesterday and today I've declined to take part in their activities, mostly due to the fact that I've felt like ass. I must admit that I almost found their company Saturday night enjoyable. Then again, I was a bit tipsy from all the wine. Note to self: be drunk around Bret's parents and all will be well. Perhaps the idea of sitting on the beach in Puerto Vallarta drinking margaritas all day isn't too far of a stretch. I really should ride today, but I just lack the drive. Poor Contessa (my appaloosa mare for those of you who don't know her) is all alone now, as I've leased out Traveler to a friend of mine who took him to a boarding facility closer to her home. She sulked for a few days but appears to be in better spirits since I've been giving her extra attention. Perhaps I'll ride her this evening.

The Dumb Network >> Dumb Laws >> Home

The Dumb Network >> Dumb Laws >> Home

This site makes me chuckle whenever I peruse it. Enjoy!

Surviving the In-Laws Part II

Day 2 of the in-laws has found my attitude towards them no
different. Today, I had the honor and privilege of going shopping with them at
the Super Mall. Damn they're slow shoppers! I normally hate shopping with other people, but having to deal with their slothfulness really irritated me. As if I could find anything positive about their actions. But I digress. I just can't fathom a reason to
spend the better part of an hour in the Ann Taylor outlet. But I'm a tad more
expedient in my shopping habits: I scan the store, looking for things to catch
my eye. I find the aforementioned items, decide whether or not they'd fit
without the hassle of trying them on, head for the cashier, and I'm on my way. I
guess I just don't like wasting time ambling about. (So I'm whining...deal with
it. :P) We did find one item of interest. While browsing through the Halloween
store (and yes, I know the way the "holiday" is celebrated debases the sacred
traditions of the Old Ways...but the kid in me enjoys the costumes and candy
gathering...I'm such a tool), I came across pet costumes. And yes, I was
strongly compelled to buy a "SuperDog" costume for Fudgie. He hates it, by the
way. But he looks so damn cute in it! I'll have to post a picture.

Dawn

Surviving the In-Laws

Don't get me wrong...my in-laws are nice people, but they are soooooooo irritating. Take my mother-in-law. She readily fails to speak in complete sentences and her inflection makes her sound like a complete airhead. She also has a tendency to take over my home whenever she visits (thank the gods she's in the Midwest and we're on the west coast), trying to "help out" but instead reeking havoc amongst my belongings. And she's so superficial. I truly marvel at the fact that she has a nursing degree from University of Chicago. How does someone so unintelligent get into such a reputable school? Her interests lie solely in the mundane, her conversations unable to rise above small talk. As if I care about what so-and-so said about Hurricane Charlie. And my father-in-law fares no better. Ultimately, he's a sexist, bigoted old fart with a juvenile sense of humor that will not quit. And the repetitiveness of his "jokes" makes me want to strangle him. Say it once, figure out that no one found it funny, and never say it again. That's what people with some degree of social insight would do. But the thing I really truly resent about them stems from a recent experience. Back in June, I shut down. I was overcome by depression and unable to do anything save for reading books and watching T.V. Bret (my other half) phoned them for some emotional support and lo and behold, they hopped the next plane out here uninvited and once again took over my house, ultimately treating me like a retarded four year-old. I hate to tell you this people, but depression doesn't affect your intellect. And if I had to define a "pet peeve," condescension would be it. At any rate, their presence left me feeling violated...and then very, very angry. I insisted that they leave and they did, but not before losing any iota of respect I held for them. Suffice it to say, I'm not certain that I can handle being with them for 10 days over "Christmas," even if it is in Puerto Vallarta. You'll find me on the beach chugging margaritas. I'm still debating whether or not I want to go at all. I could always head out to North Carolina with my family. Fortunately, not all of Bret's family sucks. I really like his sister Heather. She has a subtle sardonic wit that I of course find appealing. She's been through tough times throughout the past year, and I admire her ability to deal with it in a "healthy" manner, if there is such a thing. At any rate, I have to acknowledge the fact that my feelings for Bret's parents have added some degree of strain to the relationship, at least when we're among them. However, I have made an attempt to not ruin their time here by saying little, if anything to them. I think it's wise, considering the fact that I'd really enjoy going off on them. So I just nod and smile, keeping my answers to a simple "yes" or "no" or "heh." I truthfully don't mind the tension, but I worry that Bret will be upset by it. He hasn't said anything yet. Thankfully, I only have to survive 3 more days with them. No doubt Dolores (I love the fact that her name comes from the Latin "dolor," meaning sorrow) will have everything planned out tourist-style. I'll just wield the same front...quiet disinterest. Perhaps they'll eventually take the hint.

Dawn

Introductions

I'd go into the story of my life up to this moment but A. it would be boring and B. much of the more exciting elements have become much of a blur...perhaps due to intoxication? I've thus decided to touch upon some of the more significant details that have led me to become who and what I am.

~ I was born at 5 a.m. on 21 February, 1975. I had no say in the matter, but there are myriad times I have come to regret this.

~ I was raised with pretty much everything I could possibly want (except for the degree of parental affection I felt I was entitled to) in well-to-do Lake Bluff, Illinois.

~ The first traumatic memory I have occurred whilst up in Door County, Wisconsin. I was three at the time. My family and I were visiting some friends, one of which apparently had an entire set of false teeth, courtesy of years of playing football. He decided to remove them as a means of entertaining us youngsters. I panicked and ran off, only to be stung in the stomach by a bee. Perhaps this is why I have trust issues? If you can't believe what you see, what can you believe in?

~ The remainder of my childhood was spent being bullied by the more popular kids. Somehow I never fit in. I assert that it has to do with my superior intellect, but who's to say? :) The fact of the matter is, kids are inherently cruel towards those they differ from. I doubt that will ever change.

~ As a result of the aforementioned bullying, I begged my parents to send me to Principia Upper School, a private school for Christian Scientists in St. Louis, Missouri. And I thought I didn't fit in at public school...But I made my share of friends and enjoyed my freshman year. Halfway through sophomore year, however, I grew tired of the repression and opted to go back to public school. I immediately hated it and instead went to college. I lasted a year, as I became seduced by the desire to party, and I finally realized that it is virtually impossible to make one's way in the world as a poet, which was what I had originally intended to do.

~ I thus opted to attend school to become a cosmetologist. I did that for a couple of years and was pretty good at it, although I quickly grew tired of having to partake in idle chatter - I've never been one for small talk.

~ At 19, I BRIEFLY was married to a complete loser named Sean. I remember little of our time together, as much of it was spent on either psychotropics, weed, or drunk off my ass. In fact, LSD was the reason we decided to get married in the first place....it seemed like a good idea at the time.

~ At 20, I resolved to go back to school, majoring once again in English, but this time for the purpose of teaching High School English.

~ At 22, I met my future husband Bret. We knew right away that we'd be right for each other. 7 years later (3 of which have been spent married) and I think we were right.

~ In May of 1999 I finished my bachelor's degree in English, and immediately began working for my Master's of Arts in Education at the same school, Barat College of DePaul University (may it rest in peace as DePaul has since decided to close its doors because it's no longer "economically feasible" to operate). While I finished my coursework and the bulk of my thesis, I have never finished the degree. I literally have only a few hours' worth of work to do, but still I drag my feet. Is this some sort of "fuck you" to my mother? Who's to say for sure? My therapist sure thinks so, however.

~ In January of 2000 I was diagnosed with a debilitating disorder known as fibromyalgia. It took years to learn how to effectively live with it, and sometimes I wonder how long I'll last before I simply get sick of the pain and can deal with it no more.

~ I was married on 6 July, 2001 at Lake Forest Academy in Lake Forest, IL ( http://www.lfa.lfc.edu/). It was an elegant and beautiful wedding. People still talk about it. :)Bret and I then moved out to Puyallup, Washington, as he had acquired a job at Microsoft as a computer software engineer. Big bucks. :)

~ From fall of 2001 until early winter 2003, I taught at Auburn Senior High School in Auburn, Washington. The stress about killed me. I thus took a leave of absence for the remainder of last year and tendered my resignation late last spring. I look forward to not going back to teaching.

~ In December of 2003 I got a job at Curves for Women, and quickly climbed the ranks to club manager.

~ In April of 2004 I had a horrible fall from a young horse. The bitch nearly killed me. I haven't been the same since...perhaps falling on my head wasn't such a great thing. I think it knocked a few more screws loose, as I slipped into a darkness I'd never known before, even midst the "Goth days" of my youth. I haven't really been back to work since.

There. That about leads you up to the present. I spend my days either writing, reading, drawing, or playing one of many video games. I'm finally beginning to see the depression that has consumed me of late ebb into something more...managable. At least that's what I tell myself. And to think I've only had to go through about 5 different medications to get there.

~ Dawn