Tags: maturity

hair syrup curl


My dream last night was strange. The whole night, s'far as I know, was one dream, one idea, mostly chronological.
I was being chased by some guy, tall skinny I think. I was with other people. When he caught us he shot us, my compadres were shot first, rightnext to me, shot dead. Ever shot was too bulletts. bangbang bangbang bangbang. When he got to me he kept missing me. I kept dodging. I almost remember vividly. First to the right then to the left then down. Two bullets every time. But finally, as a result of dodging, I was on my stomach on the floor, a step down from him due to the strange topology of the floor, but, essentially at his feet. He fired into my back. Bangbang. and again bang bang bangbang, two more times, into my spine to be sure I was dead. And I was. Pleased, he walked away. A few minutes later I lifted myself to my hands and knees and then to my feet. I was not in pain, however, I felt how in my dream i interpreted a dead person would feel. But mostly I knew I was myself. i walked back from the woods, through farm land like area, and eventually got home. I thought it was convenient that I was still here for a while so that I could inform people that i was dead, and give people the passwords to my email and instructions on how to make sure everyone knew- I sometimes worry that smoe people just would never find out, because no one would no how to reach them or even know they existed in my life. So I dreamed I told emily, and she was like, oh poor mackenzie, but much less upset than she would be. In fact she was very level headed and rational, like one would be when noticing that their dog had gotten out side and was in the front yard getting all muddy. As inconveinient as it is, one would have to get it inside and give it a bath. but I wasn't doing much, I was sort of hanging out with people. I remember pretty quickley after I got home, I got on live journal and posted that I was dead, and here were some practical things about me, for anyone who reads this, cause I wanted things out there, not knowing how long might last. The days were happening- I was going about being like, huh, I am dead, and there were big bloody holes in my back which weren't bleeding. after awhile people were like, are you sure you're dead? and i was like, I totally checked when I first died, and my heart wasn't beating. However, there ,must have been blood circulating smoehow, no that I think of it. It was probably just passivly sitting there, swishing around all anti gravity like.
i was at this party. Being like, huh, i'm dead, and rosie was there, and she was in her wheel, which was not at all strange seeming, it was just like, my subconsious was like, here is this person, and I guesse her shirt would be pink or maybe blue, and here is her nose, and here is this person, I suppose she ought to be in a wheel chair, and here is her hair. They are not the details I paid attenton to in the dream. in the dream she was alleric to wheat. And it was nighttime not long after I died, and i was tring to find her something without wheat. it wa like the way the food at partys is when you are looking for a snack at two a.m. after crashing on the couch. Except there were still indeterminate numbers of anonymous people milling around. And so the stuff I found her had wheat in it, and she was like, no I can't eat tht, and I felt bad, caue she was hungry, andthen the sun was apparently coming up. thats one of the wheel chair like details- I didn't pay much attention to it. Oh and at some point there was a ferris wheel in theback ground. At one point in the dream i was sad, because I wa thinking about all thetimes someone has asked me what I would do if i knew i had only a small amount of time left to live, and here, I was in that situation, but I wasn't doing anything awesome or amazingly exciting, I was just sitting around the house with family (Bob and Barb and Em), making popcorn and what not. It was a little sad, but it was also like, huh, this might be the best way to spend my last hours. Also, I was already dead and i felt kinda stiff so it would be har to like, go rock climbing or hanggliding or whatever. (Now I have a strong desire to climb things) And then I was talking to kate, and she was like, are you sure you are dead? Maybe you should go to the hospital. You've been around being dead for like a week, and like, maybe instead of handing your life and secrets over to people you should make sure you are actually dead cause I think maybe you aren't.
so i went to the emergency room, and they made me wait,even though i was either dead or dieing, cause i had waited a week to come in. And my back was hurting, and there were holes through which people could see organs, and somewherelodged in therewere bullets, and I was like, come on! You want to check me out, please?

And then I woke up, because it was like 9:30.
also at smoe point either on the way to sleep or while i was sleeping, i realized that I really like the little three you old I know and totally want to spend more time with him than i anticipate doing this year. In fact I was thinking about earlier than last night also. i was think about how em and i decided to not babysit him on the twenty first cause it'll be my 18th birthday, and I was thinking, hmmm, it might be cool to babysithim on my birthday, and take him with me wherever I go. His name is Ean. he is just great.
hair syrup curl

More insights that arent mine.


"I can’t think of a more tempting — and more disastrous — reason to begin any love affair than “curiosity.”"

"Flirtation, particularly when we are married or in committed relationship, brings us dangerously close to one of the most pernicious sins of all. No, I don’t mean adultery. I mean the sin of using another human being to soothe our own anxiety, to feed our ravenous ego. Sending out “mixed messages” that arouse interest, deliberately fishing about to see if we can get a little “stroking” — this is toxic, manipulative, adolescent."

Hmm. My sexual identiy needs my anylitical, critical attention.
hair syrup curl

The Job Market

I just realized that I'll really have to focus on one thing. I've always thought it was great that I have so many different interests nto pursue, and if one doesn't work out, I'll have all these others to fall back on, but the fact of the matter is, if I don't choose one (or a couple) of them to focus on, I will only be ok or proficient at any of them, and not amazing. And so, I might have a hard time getting a job, because if they need a such and such, there will always be a better such and such out there that wants the job. (this seems to be an issue related to over population- people having to be over qualified...)
However, I shouldn't have to worry too much because its one thing to be looking for jobs at the mercy of whether other people need you, and its another entirely to be the one needing people.
Though the question remains- how do I pay the bills. Because I'm going to be doing the stuff that needs other peoples skills, but... Unless I am taking advantage of people with some profit making corporation, I dont see any income.
This, is also silly. There are plenty of non profits that manage to be doing something or another. And good meaning organizations. I should study these.
hair syrup curl

The outside light has an uplifting element of hope.

I like my window. the plants of our neigbors house are unkempt and swing near my window. The magenta blooms go well with the marroon of my window-art-stuff, and the yellow blooms accentuate the sunlight and the bright colors in my suncatchers. Something like that used to inpire me to do something productive.

But then, out of nessesity, productive was redefined to me.

And besides, it seems silly for beuty to inspire one to turn away from it to do something useless.
So one should go one a walk with me to enjoy the beauty. Except that I have stuff to get on top of.
hair syrup curl

Scholarship app.

Will you guys tell me what you think? Its only 300 words long. Its for, wince, cosmogirl magazine. But hey, 20,000 is 20,000. The question is, what have you done this year to better the community or the world.

Earlier this year, I was frightened by a thought of drinking turpentine, and was nearly locked up as disturbed. My depression was partly situational. I was trying to force my mother out of an abusive relationship. I felt alone.
I noticed that I am now no longer depressed when I said without thinking, “I’m happy.” I was surrounded by love ones. By delving into the upsetting and hurtful depths within myself, I learned to love myself. As I began to share my love with people who honestly loved me and allowed me to look at their own pains and chains, I have experienced an ever-growing upward spiral of productive, infectious joy.
Upon asking myself what I’ve done this year to make the world a better place, I had to stop and try to think of the year as a whole. I went through the general checkmarks. Saved any puppies? Nope. School bus full of children? Nope. I was going to help a mentally disabled girl organize her room, but that fell through, so I can’t benefit at her expense. I can’t boast of my selflessness, because it is what I have done for myself that has helped others.
But what I do have is a philosophical approach. I have made countless people smile with my pervading joy and willingness to live. But don’t I claim this, instead, it claims me. The world can be so beautiful, sometimes, that it compels me to pay attention, and allow it its place in the world. Joy can be easily ignored to be replaced by insignificant drama. I happily became a sort of steward of joy, if you will. Because if the whimsy and beauty of the earth are not allowed into our hearts, there is no hope for bettering the world.
hair syrup curl

Today.... with my mom.

I have a picture of my that I took years ago, before my grandmother died. More than 4 years ago. My screen saver goes through all of my pictures. She saw it and didn't know who it was. Interesting.

Today I brought her with me to my counsler. She spent most of the time telling my counsler about my step father who I apperently havent talked about yet. I suppose that is good, so she knows more about me. I just sat there quietly knitting while my mother spewed the history of her marriage.
Finally I got tired of hearing her talk about john and brought up her reading my diary. We had a good talk about it. She took me out for ice cream. I corrected everywhere that she had the story wrong. She wasn't mad at me or anyone, or really judgemental at all. Perhaps, because of me, she come to realize that everyone has problems. It is something I say alot. She's also been reading alot of self help books. I wasn't mad at her either. She felt really bad about reading my diary, and then lieing about the fact that she had. More than anything she was worried about my mental state. But she can tell I'm fine.

So all is well and good. Truth is good because people understand what really happened and what I think like.  And by being truthful, my mom is more accepting of my past and future desisions.

I talked to her about letting make more of my own desisions, especially about staying out late. Otherwise I can't learn from it. She agreed. She agrees with most thoughts I beleive when I am candid with her about my thoughts on them. That sentance sucks.

so, all is well, and stress is diminished.