We're All Battling the Little Hand on the Clock

The older I get, the more sentimental birthdays have become for me. Not even my own birthdays, but the birthdays of those I love around me. Whether someone I love is turning 6 or 60, I really feel that year passing is incredibly important. Sure they're getting older, growing wiser, moving closer to adulthood or old age for that matter. But what we seem to forget about birthdays, when we are busy celebrating the fact this person is alive, Is that we were blessed to have so much time with the individual. Sure, when someone's turning six, it may seem silly to think 'I'm blessed to have spent six years being a part of this child's life', because you assume theres so much time left. But the older I get the more I realize how crucial and how much of a blessing time truly is.

We count our lives in days, and every year being 365 days seems like so much time. But when I look at the people I love,  2million days still doesn't seem like enough, and 365 days feels like absolutely nothing. You see the older I get, the more I realize that tomorrow is never guaranteed, and though this may seem like a sad thought, it truly isn't. The fact that our lives could stop at any second, is cause to celebrate. What good would time be, if it went on forever? If we didn't have a limited amount of time to show the people we love, how much we love them, then we would never try with all our might.

You see, the fact we are guaranteed no certain amount of time with a person, makes the time we have so crucial. The fact every moment count be the last, makes every moment monumental to our lives. It's terrifying to think that every moment could be someones last, even our own, but as scary as it may be; it's liberating. This time crunch we're all in, gives us the motivation we need to act in the moment, to follow our instincts.

This time crunch also is what makes everyones birthday, so sentimental. At least to me. Every birthday serves as a reminder to me that time is short and I've only got so much time left to say everything I need to. So I better start talking. I better start telling them all those things. I better start showing them how much I care. Because if someone I love were to die tomorrow, I would want to be able to say I worked my hardest, gave all of my heart, and never stopped showing them how much I love them.

When I was in junior high, I came to the realization I had pretty old parents. My mother and father had never seemed old to me, they weren't in wheel chairs, they were still working their asses off, hell they were still jumping out of planes and riding motorcycles like it was their day job. But, they were in the scheme of time, old. Being 19 and having parents who are 55+, is scary as a young adult, especially as a teenager. I used to worry about all the events in my life I had to make sure I did in time. I had to make sure I got married in time, make sure I graduated college in time, make sure I had kids in time.

I didn't want to take too long because I knew I couldn't control time; so in order to conquer time itself, I thought I had to speed it up. I wanted to make sure I did everything in a timely fashion, so that I could get it all done.

Then in 8th grade my dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer. And time started to threaten me.

It felt as if I were racing against time for so long without feeling any threat of losing, then in the blink of an eye, time was a few feet behind me keeping pace with ever step I took. Time was right behind me chanting and trying to beat me down; 'I can catch up, I can beat you, look out'.

Luckily, time never caught up with me in 8th grade. Time never stopped for my father. I was given back my watch and left to keep time for myself. But the fact that it could have caught me, began to teach me to appreciate time. I realized time was a strong competitor, not to be underestimated.

I quit looking at my time with my parents as a calendar that I had to squeeze a certain number of things into and started taking things day by day. Now I'm not saying my parents are by any means going to die soon, but Ive learned that regardless of age, we all can die any day. Don't worry about what needs to be done, what you might miss out on with someone, or what can't be fit into the time you've got. Just focus on the time. Focus on every second.

If we dwell in time, if we count the minutes, we cause ourselves to fall into the trap of  time; believing we are limited. We fall under the control of the little hand on the clock. But if we quit looking at the clock, quit counting down the days, quit worrying about the future; then we have the ability to make the most of the time we've got.

Fit everything you can into your time. Say I love you as much as you want. Hug the ones you love, even if they tell you not too. Never spend to much time angry with someone. Remember forgiveness will always be a better way to spend your time. And never, ever, worry about time. It's not something you can control.

Sincerely,

laughing at the face of the clock.

I Must Have Blinked

I have this theory, it has to do with blinking. 

I think when we blink, we miss more than simply a millisecond. 

No, we must miss more than a millisecond. 

Because I swear, I just blinked, and you were telling me you loved me. 

But, I had only blinked. 

And you can't tell me in that millisecond, everything changed. 

You can't tell me in a millisecond, you fell in love. 

But, you tell me you did. 

And so I believed you. 

And we went on our merry way, hand in hand down Rooney Street. 

And it was just past midnight. 

But, I must have blinked. 

Because suddenly, it was the morning. 

And I looked around. 

And I searched for you, all over and around that house. 

And it was just past eight. 

But, I must have blinked. 

Because I couldn't find you, I couldn't find you anywhere. 

And I can't figure out why. 

And I know you were just lying next to me. 

And I know just last midnight, you told me you loved me. 

But, I must have blinked. 

Because you aren't coming back, it's been two days since midnight. 

And I really thought you loved me. 

And I believed you when you said you fell in love in that millisecond. 

And I thought we'd get married when we woke up. 

But, I must have blinked. 

And I must have blinked again.

And blinked again. 

Because you've been gone four years, and your urn lies on the mantle. 

And it all just happened so fast. 

And now I can't remember the the last time you were here. 

And I know just last midnight, you told me you loved me. 

But, 

I must have blinked. 

Sincerely, 

Writing not so funny make shift poetry now I guess 

Still laughing at life, just not this poem 

A Poem For My Beloved

A Poem For My Beloved 

Poetry is a joke. 

You can format it however you want,

       and they'll call it 'literary'.

Well what's so literary about it.

       I don't believe in meter. 

       Why rhyme? 

I could just spew jibberish.

Cat. 

Poetry is a joke. 

Stanzas end.

Sentences start on one line 

        and end on another.

        How's this for art? 

Poetry is a joke. 

But you are like poetry to me. 

You are a joke. 

You toy with my life however you want.

         and I call it 'love'.

Well what's so loving about that.

       I don't believe in your words.

       Why try? 

You could just spew bullshit all day.

Integrity. 

Our relationship is a joke. 

Please just make it end. 

Start the week loving each other 

          and that ends on the next. 

          How's this for love?

Poetry is a joke. 

But you are like poetry to me. 

Sincerely, 

laughing at this 5 second creation 

Retaining Walls

I need to write. So give me a moment of peace.

I've been avoiding emotions like the plague. I can feel all of them pent up inside me, fighting to get out. I know people talk about getting butterflies in their stomach, but this feels more like bees. They're buzzing around, the sound ringing in my ears, driving me to the brink of insanity.

Do you ever want to just escape? To just wander off into solitude, with a carton of eggs, and just wreak havoc on something? Anything. Just lose it. Take a few deep breaths, clear your mind.

I remember when I was having a rough time in high school, like all teenage girls do. My mother brought me to the grocery store, picked up a carton of eggs and a few apples, then drove me out to this retaining wall off the highway. I could hear the cars speeding by on the opposite side of the big purple barrier, the sound almost soothing to me. Then she handed me the eggs and told me 'Let it out'.

I walked up to that retaining wall and let lose all the anger, frustration, and pain I was feeling. Egg yolks splattered across the wall, sliding down, their whites dripping like rain drops. With every egg, I felt a weight lifting. Releasing laughter, the only emotion that seemed real at the time. Such a therapeutic form of destruction. I splattered apples on the concrete.

I think back to that night a lot. And when I felt that instant joy and release.

That may have been one of the best things my mother could have done for me.
I've never been on for crying, never been one for hugs, it all feels weak. But this, this felt strong. It were as if I took my troubles that were weighing me down and sunk them in the ocean.

I had won

I reminisce on this a lot when why mind begins to turn to a flurry of emotions. I use it to remind myself that I am stronger than the worries that bring me down, while also reminding myself I'm taking life a little too seriously.

Well, that's all

Sincerely,
Laughing at life

Thoughts on a Bridge

I've had millions of thoughts trapped in my head today, not that I've been counting. So here goes something. The tone and mood of this, I cannot explain. I truly am not depressed or any such thing, this simply escalated from my current dread of the cold which I feel has been following me everywhere I go. I started pulling in some metaphors to my life throughout, though I originally had no intentions to. It's not a poem, it's not a short story, it's not a soliloquy, I don't really know what it is other than simply my thoughts in a patchwork of something related to winter.

I guess, enjoy.

Thought's on a Bridge 

Living in the frigid cold is driving me insane, I'm quite sure of it. I will admit, I am foolish in my belief that depression is a choice. However it seems to be lately that maybe depression is simply a matter of perspective. For my perspective on life right now is cold and grim, as are my surroundings, as is my attitude.
No I am not depressed, I have not made the choice to be, but I am going mad. 

Maybe the goosebumps are to blame, forever scarred into my arms, clinging to me like a rain cloud over my head. Or maybe it's the burning of my ears, that lingers constantly, slowly falling victim to frostbite. Or it could be the patches of ice, scattered like mine's across campus, threatening me at every corner.

Whatever it may be, I can't bear it.

I've never looked up the definition of insanity, for I have been sure I am sane, but maybe the arctic air has put me in my place. The cold is cracking me. I'm ice and spring is approaching quickly. I'm a snowman and the drunks have come to bring me down. 

Am I weak to have fallen victim to the tundra? I am sorry to have frozen. Like the hand on an old victorian clock, I'm stuck.
I never wanted to lose, but like the frozen river edges, I can't go with the flow any longer. 

It's hard to think when you're mind is trapped in an ice box. 

It's hard to stay sane when you're mind is shaken, beaten, and bruised with insanity. 

Will you forgive me? This walk has been hard alone.
I forgot to bring you with. 

I've slept alone in this house long enough, furnace burnt out like we did, and I've been left here freezing. With the front door bleeding cold air, I can't help but think this is your fault. Couldn't you have fixed it? A new door, a new window or two?
I wished for a second chance to shield all that was good in this home from the bitter cold.
But no, It seeps from that front door, flee's this house. 

Wishing is for fools, as is sanity. Depression is weak, but then so am I. 

I don't wish to remain in this cold, I don't wish to carry on freezing. I can feel myself giving into the bitter chill, I can feel it breaking me down. But if there's a moment I want frozen in time, this isn't it. I won't let this be it. The cold can attack my body, but I won't let it freeze my mind, not in this state.

What am I thinking? I must put an end to this foolish thinking, the bitter cold is freezing me as I speak and time is short. So I leave you with this, my love. 

You can leave me frozen in this state, you can enclose my mind in this ice box if you must. But as the seasons change, so will I, and all of me you're bitterness has ruined will come back to life. I can feel an escape from this pain, I can see my spring garden blooming. So bring on the chill my love, freeze me in time. 

But look out next spring when I bloom, it'll be you're hell.





Sincerely,
Me. 

The 8 Simple Seasons of the Midwest

My whole life I've had a love/hate relationship with the midwest. Growing up in Minnesota then moving to Wisconsin for school, I've experienced just about all the midwest has to offer (at least in my opinion). From unreasonably hot summers to freezing cold winters, living through extreme temperatures has always been quite the 'treat'. However in my 19 short years of life, I've realized how irrational those of us who live in the midwest truly are.
Here's the cycle of Irrationality:
8 seasons, instead of 4.

Let's start with Fall.
Fall for those of us in the midwest is not truly fall, it's a short lived season of temperatures ranging from 50-30 degrees, when mother nature mentally prepares us for winter. Fall typically starts in late september, ending before halloween. So realistically, fall is only a month around here. However, women will seize every last second of fall, tweeting about their love for 'fall fashion', hitting up apple orchards, and overwear every vest they own.

After fall comes Pre-Winter.
This is the time around halloween when everyone begins to complain about the cold. It's typically about 30-20 degrees outside and theres no snow, simply frigid cold and depressing cloudy weather. Girls buy scantily clad halloween costumes and try to deny that they're going to freeze their asses off in them, denying that winter is coming. In Pre-Winter our bodies also start to adjust to temperatures, 40 begins to seem semi warm to a lot of us.

Then comes Winter Wonderland.
Winter Wonderland is an interesting time. Temperatures have dropped remarkably, sometimes even to below zero. BUT the minute the first snow flake falls, suddenly the hate for the cold has subsided and day dreaming of a 'white christmas', kicks in. This short period of time leading up to christmas is what I like to call the 'glory days' of winter, where everything seems merry and we all are happy to live in a state where it snows.

Then the REAL Winter begins.
The minute the holiday season ends, our mind switches to believing we are living in our own personal hell. Temperatures are below freezing as before, but since the holiday spirit is over, suddenly everything is just the WORST. Snow is no longer beautiful to us and we all begin to have an undying hate for it, complaining every time a flake falls. What's interesting about this time is that it really is the same weather as Winter Wonderland, minus Santa and the pretty lights, so we all hate it.

Then comes the season of The Clinger.
Similar to a clingy girlfriend, winter begins to cling on to the midwest far into march. Temperatures will rise to as high as 30 degrees and drop to as low as -45 degrees throughout a single week. It may be March, but you wouldn't be able to tell without a calendar as the wether remains the same as December or January.

By April, Pre-Spring Frustration starts.
Snow has started to melt in the midwest, however, our hatred sticks around. Towns start to look dirty and beat up, as snow melts and exposes Pre-Winters grime and filth that our little 'Winter Woderland' had covered up.

Hopefully by May, it's Spring.
Temperatures by May are hopefully up to 50 degrees and everyone inevitably begins breaking out the summer gear. Clothing fit for a day at the beach is worn around puddles of melted snow, and suddenly 50 degrees is feeling 'hot'. This joy about beautiful temperatures will last about a month, before mother nature slaps us in the face again.

Mother Nature's Idea of Hell, starts in June.
A few weeks into June, the real fun begins. Temperatures will range from 60 degrees all the way up to 105 degrees. Everyone begins to regret letting go of winter and the complaints begin yet again. From being one of the coldest areas of the country, the midwest jumps to being one of the hottest, sending midwesterners bodies haywire.

By September, the cycle begins over again. Same attitudes year after year. Nothing is ever good enough for us in the Midwest. If I've learned anything, we're rarely pleased by much, other than those few short months we're walking in a Winter Wonderland.

But even though us midwesterners have so much hate for the weather at times, I personally, wouldn't have it any other way.

Sincerely,
Laughing at life's irony.

The consequences of my Late Night Reflections (Caution: Controversial Content)

I read, or struggled though a few paragraphs, today of an article by a younger woman. I say I struggled, because it truly was painful to read. The piece didn't have outstanding grammatical errors that I couldn't stand (I'm no grammar police), nor was it typed like Di$$. It was truly the content, the message, that I struggled to grasp and really choked on.

You can find the article here: http://bemalleable.wordpress.com/2013/12/31/sincerely-one-of-many-girls-who-care/
Though in all honesty, I didn't finish it. I'm just commenting on the overall opening concept of this piece.

Now I'm typically not one to bash others opinions, or really give a hoot about what people of religion or people with no religion are preaching about, but this set me off past my beliefs on religion. This brought out my feminist/feministic side. (Not that I would define myself as an extreme feminist by any means, however I think as a woman, it's important to be slightly feminist. Seeing as well, I am a female and I'm just as good as any man out there. Maybe not at building stuff, but you get my point.) 

Anyways, this article is an apology. And in short, it's an apology for women's existence. Now I'm not saying the author specifically states, I'm sorry for women and their existence.. but she comes pretty damn close. 

"I’m sorry that you see hundreds of advertisements every week showing half-dressed women. I’m sorry every time you go to the beach or your neighborhood pool you can’t look in any direction without seeing a girl basically in her underwear. Or that you can’t scroll through Instagram on “women crush wednesdays” or any day for that matter without an airbrushed girl in a thong staring you down. Or that your buddy showed you that one magazine when you were 9 and you’ve never forgotten that moment because that was the first time you first saw a completely naked woman. When I think about the guys in my life who are striving to live with a pure and Godly mindset, it honestly breaks my heart that they’re surrounded with so much temptation."

Now many people may not take this as an insult (though you people may want to stop reading right here), but I did, and i'll tell you why. As women, I don't think we should be pointed at as the cause for mens un-godly mindsets, or basically blamed for all males sexual drive. That to me, is ridiculous. You see, when I read this I saw what she was trying to get at. She is very sorry that there is so much sexual advertisement all over the place. However, what get's me is she isn't putting it that way, she's saying it as if it is our fault as women for letting all of this take place. 

Which in some ways, it is our fault. Women do pose half-dressed, however, the female body is beautiful and media wants to perpetuate and thrive off of that. (Given the way in which advertisements perpetuate women should look and what is beautiful, and all the wrong doings there, is a whole new argument). What she's saying is "I'm sorry men, that you have eyes and can see beautiful women all over the place, and are attracted." Or the swimsuits argument, really?? .. I don't even want to go there. Then she bashes women crush wednesday, which really blows my mind, because now she's pointing fault to all those who post photos of women they find beautiful on any given wednesday and she stereotypes that all these women posted are airbrushed in thongs. (My guy friend women crush wednesday'd me one time.. a nice picture of us two. I was not airbrushed, nor in a thong, and I personally took it as a compliment.)

I could get into more about what she said but I'll move on to my next point. 

Why's no one apologizing to us women? I'd like to see the apology edited to be like this:

"Women, I'm sorry you see hundreds of shirtless men who are half-dressed on TV and in advertisements every day. I'm sorry every time you go to the beach or pool you can't look in any direction without seeing a man in simply swim trunks, just showing off his chest to the world. Or that you can't scroll through instagram on man crush monday without seeing an airbrushed man in a thong, or nothing at all, for that matter.. blah blah... It honestly breaks my heart that women are surrounded by so much temptation." 

.. That's what I would have liked to see a women write to her fellow women, an apology for how hard it is to be a female surrounded by temptation (because that's something a female could relate to another about. Though that would have still annoyed me because it's blatantly passing judgement on the opposite sex for dressing a way the author does not approve of), This letter would have seemed more 'right' and 'just'. Not a woman apologizing to men, who are driven by sexual desire, for her fellow women who decide to not live as modest a lifestyle as she may. Theres so much slut-shaming here I can't handle it. 

And I'm not justifying anything that she claims women are doing that 'tempts' men. I'm just saying that not only is it wrong to blame women for males sexual desire, It's wrong for her to be perpetuating her beliefs in such a way. To take it to extremes, it'd be similar to her writing "Dear man, I am sorry that woman tempted you so much that you had to rape her. She was dressed in such a way, that I can see how you couldn't resist, I really am sorry women tempt you so much like that. Sincerely, female." 

And see, that seems crazy. 

If you are a female, in this really tough world, where it's already hard enough to have self esteem.. why would you make women feel like crap by turning on them and apologizing to the opposite sex for them. As if your fellow women's actions and the way they chose to live their lives or present themselves is cruel to men. 

Why don't you just go make him a sandwich while you're at it? Because it seems we've fallen back to the happy homemaker times, where women were expected to simply support men, and not have a say themselves. 

In the end I guess what I'm trying to say is plain and simple; thanks, but no thanks. 

Don't go apologizing for me, I'm not sorry. 

Women have the right to do whatever they please, I may not agree with all of it either, but it's not your job or anyone else's job for that matter to apologize for them. Men are just as at fault as women are and there is no reason to treat men like the victims. Grown men with sexual desires, don't need to be treated like children. 

Nor is it right for you to judge women. You don't see anyone apologizing for women who are modest, because it's simply wrong. 

If you find what this woman said okay, that is just fine. You have a right to your opinion (as do I, hence why I'm posting mine here in this blog) and I respect that. However, keep it to yourself. Because I may not know the bible word for word, cover to cover, or understand everything. But one thing I do know, is that passing judgement upon others is frowned upon. 

And even if it weren't stated in the bible, it's wrong no matter what. Because the only person who should be allowed to pass judgement on you, is yourself. (Maybe your mother too, depends, she did have to work her ass off for 9 months so you could even happen.)

Anyways, I'm sick of societies judgement making people feel like their doing something wrong, simply because society says so. Whatever I do in my life, I get to judge myself for. If I want to feel bad about something I've done, I reserve the right to make myself feel bad and judge myself. No one else, plain and simple. 

Sincerely, 

Feeling very controversial tonight and laughing at myself because I reserve the right to.