Finding Beauty In The Past...

“Sometimes we have to go right into the fire in order to find our true healing.” ~Jack Kornfield

Hence... The new tattoo.  I'm up to ten.  That's right, One-Zero. 

I have a list of things that I'd like to get but I wanted this one to really mean something.  Which is why its taken so long for me to get it.  I've been working on making Me better for a while now and I wanted to celebrate that. 

One of my all time favorite things is The Rose That Grew From Concrete by Tupac.  It's short, sweet and reminds me of Me.  In the midst of all the chaos in my life,  I continued to grow, and I did it without a major support system.

Did you hear about the rose that grew
from a crack in the concrete?
Proving nature's law is wrong it
learned to walk with out having feet.
Funny it seems, but by keeping it's dreams,
it learned to breathe fresh air.
Long live the rose that grew from concrete
when no one else ever cared.

So... Here it is.  My constant reminder to always walk with my head high.

Under Da Gun... Again!

Yours Truly is going under the gun again.  Can you hear it?  ZzzzzzzzzZzzzzzzZzzzzzzz! (Have you guessed yet that its a tattoo gun?)

I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE IT!

Here's the conundrum:

I know what I'm getting essentially but I need a simple bird design to go along with it. And of course, I can't draw to save my life.  How is it possible for someone to paint but not draw? Anyhoo, that's neither here nor there.

I've got a couple days to figure it out... 3 days and counting.

Blah... Blah... Blah...

In the last 11 hours I have started not 1, not 2 but 14 different posts.  I ramble.  About stupid stuff at that.  I walked away from each post feeling defeated and illiterate.  Now, I'm just ambitious.  Ambitious for something new. 

I need to take this writing somewhere.  I need to do something else with it. 

If anyone has any ideas, PLEASE!!! I beg of you... let me know.

Is Back... And Counting What She's Worth...

I've been on a long and curvy road.  I've likened myself to a small sports car.  You know the ones... they're good at hugging curves.  Hugging curves is good as long as you're driving an actual sports car and going through those curves at 90 mph.  In my brain, it isn't good.  I don't want to hug curves.  While I want to feel feelings, I don't want to get stuck trying to navigate the curves.  The curves are slowing me down, both physically and mentally.

The last few weeks have taken a huge toll on me.  I can't tell you how many times I said "F You" and "You Suck" to myself over the last 3 weeks.  A week ago I found this awesome site, www.tinybuddha.com.  In perusing the quote section I came across something that made my heart go pitter patter...

"As long as you make an identity for yourself out of pain, you cannot be free of it." -Eckhart Tolle

I've spent my entire life identifying with pain, either because I was hurt or because someone else's pain was being projected onto me.  Hurt was all I ever knew.  I internalized everything.  Whether it was my mess or someone else's.  Granted, I didn't make the best choices growing up.  A lot of the things that I've endured over the majority of my life were things that I could have prevented.  But instead of saying to myself that I was just a kid, I let it be exaggerated.  Kids of all ages make mistakes.  I need to keep that in perspective. 

All that said... I found my "creative" side once again.  I made a decision a week ago to be more "zen-like"... so, I painted.  Buddha.

I have a TONNNNNNNNN of things that are going to be added to this.  I just have to get my lazy behind in gear.  But before I do, I have something I need to do.  Write myself a letter.  You know the funny question of "What do you wish you could have told yourself 10 years ago?"  Well, I'm gonna write that letter, seal it up and hold onto it.  It might 10 years, it might be 50 years before I open it up but I'll open it one day.  Hopefully, when I do read it I'll appreciate the struggle I've gone through even more. 

"We can never obtain peace in the outer world until we make peace with ourselves." -Dalai Lama

Liar Liar Pants On Fire...

I don't hide well.  Although, I'm really good at "running." 

I've spent the last 7 months feeling like I've done such a good job "finding me."  A couple months ago, I had a craft moment.  I got in the car and when to Office Depot for... "Hello, My Name Is" stickers.  I wanted to give myself a confidence boost.  But what I essentially did was lie to myself. 

I took this picture as soon as I finished and then.... put the project on the floor in the corner of the bedroom.  Immediately I knew I wasn't being truthful.  I don't really feel any of those words.  I want to feel them.  I want to be that girl I wrote in words in that picture frame.  I mean... that's 36 lies.  Those little stickers are my reminder that I am not a very nice person.  Not to myself and not to others. 

Hello, my name is... Tells Tall Tales.

I genuninely care about the people in my life.  So much so, I never had the opportunity to get to know me.  When someone calls me selfish, I have nothing to say other than "Yes, I am."  I had to get selfish to get out of situations.  But, what I didn't do is stop using that situation as an excuse. 

I...I...I, honestly don't know.  I don't know who I am, what I'm about, what I stand for or what I'm willing or not willing to accept for my life. 

I suck... I suck... I suck.



The Countdown Begins...

T-Minus 4 days...

This time every year sucks, for lack of a better word.  I get super emotional and start acting like...wait for it... A Girl!  Why you may be asking.  Because, it's time for yet another birthday.  I don't like my birthday.  Every year I say I'm not gonna celebrate, that it's not important.  To be completely honest, I'm not sure why I hate my birthday. 

Maybe it's because of the surprise party my parents planned for my 8th birthday.  Or maybe it was my 10th.  I don't know and frankly it doesn't matter what birthday it was.  I was completely caught off guard and I spent most of the party wondering why my parents thought to invite most of the girls.  They didn't like me AT ALL!  Why were they even there?

Or maybe it's because I spent most of my life "acting" older than I was.  In my brain I grew up fast.  Everyone I associate is older than me.  When people ask me how old I am and I tell them they just look at me funny.  No one believes me.  In my short life I've had a lot of experiences, good and bad.  I guess it just seems completely amazing to me that my life has experienced all that it has.  Sometimes I feel like I am an 80 year old person telling stories of my life... But, I'm not 80. 

Two days ago I had the opportunity of getting into a discussion with a stranger.  She was telling me that she is buying herself some new clothes for her birthday.  My response was "Happy Birthday" and then she said that her birthday isn't until Sunday.  I paused and then replied "WE HAVE THE SAME BIRTHDAY!"  Apparently, the universe really wanted me to talk to her.  She was telling me that she is going to be 71 and that she absolutely enjoys getting older, that she would never want to be my age again.  We chatted for a minute about what it means to be that age and actually enjoy life. 

I went into counting down to my birthday with the same frustration that I do every year.  Celebrations are draining, it.  But given the fact that I have experiences what I have and I'm still here and kickin', I'm gonna go ahead and give it the ol' college try.  I've agreed to a birthday celebration... I'm gonna put a smile on my face.  I'm gonna be happy about it.  I'm gonna... look forward to another year.



M.I.A...

I don't have a good reason.  For being uninvolved with my creative side, that is.  I don't even know if I know why.  I can't count how many times I started to sit down to write and then just stared hopelessly at the screen.  The feeling of utter frustration takes over and I walk away.

When I originally started writing I had a specific purpose, to figure out why I don't remember much of my childhood.  I wanted to know why, what happened in my life that lead me to believe that memories weren't important.  The blog has turned into a lot more than that.  It's been my place to vent, be funny, cry, spread happiness and more than anything, communicate.  I wanted to write everyday. HAHAHA!!!!  I wanted it to go a specific way and of course it didn't.  I wanted.... to find serenity with the choas of my life.

I don't think I've done a very good job holding myself accountable.  While I don't think that I set my expections too high, I do believe that I probably should have forced myself to write, even on the offest of days.  If you know me, you know that my follow through sucks- BIG TIME.  My entire life has been a series of things that I get so so so excited to start and then at whatever point, I just stop.  Sometimes there's a reason, sometimes not.  I know this about myself.  I spent a good majority of my life being criticized by people for not following through. 

So... here we are.  Me in all of my "I Suck" glory saying... I'll do better.  I have to do better.