Utterly useless random facts about me (because i'm bored)

I'm texturephobic, and i'm pretty sure that's not the correct name for it. LOL For instance, i like pumpkin pie, but won't eat it because, to me, the texture of it doesn't match the taste. LOL I LOVE coffee, but can't stand it cold; to the point where i have to spit it out, i can't bring myself to swallow it. LOL Same goes for touching things.

I am one of the least observant, uncoordinated people i know. LOL

I have a metal plate in my chin and i can feel the screws from the inside of my mouth.

Though i don't consider myself to be clostrephobic, i freak the hell out if something is against my nose.

I swear. ALOT.

I'd love to move to the midwest and buy a big ranch with a bunch of horses.

I'm suppose to wear glasses when i read but haven't since i was in elementary school because i can't stand that my eyelashes are long enough that they rub against the lenses. I don't wear sunglasses for basically the same reason.

I remember the stupidest shit, but if it's something WORTH remembering, sure as shit i'll forget. In other words, i'm full of useless information. Atleast that's what my husbands says. LOL

I am horribly impatient.

I have an eating disorder.............

Well, that didn't help make me feel better about the weight i've gained since i quit using drugs. LOL I'm a pretty open person, obviously, but that's one i tend to keep to myself. Frankly, (up until this moment) unless you know me know me, like a close friend or close family member, chances are you didn't know. While i've learned to keep it in check, it doesn't make it any easier to gain weight. And it certainly does nothing to help deal with the weight once you gain it. Just because i am fully capable of seeing myself as too skinny, as i did 33 weeks ago, doesn't mean that i can accept myself at what most everyone else would concider to be a healthy weight. If i were to be asked what is harder to deal with; quitting drugs cold turkey with no rehab of any sort, or dealing with anorexia, the eating disorder wins hands down. When you become addicted to drugs of any sort and decided to quit, the physical withdrawl is the worst kinda hell you can fathom, the mental withdrawl is almost as bad. But they both pass. Especially if you have the mind set that i did and still do have; that you're done with it and there's no going back. I can be around the same people, be around drugs, be in pain, and have zero desire to go back. But with an eating disorder, it's hell everyday. A better version of hell, but then again it's a different hell all in it's own. The best comparison i've ever seen goes something like this; having an eating disorder is like having terminal cancer, it may go into remission, but it's always there. Most people who have an eating disorder (i'm just gonna call it an e.d. from now. LOL) have issues with needing to be in control of EVERYTHING, which is why alot of people with one; will resort back to it durring times of stress. I feel safe in saying all of us who have one, have had horrible self esteem since before we can remember. And i also feel confident in saying that those of us who have an e.d., keep it to ourselves. Because for someone who doesn't have one, there's no sense in even remotely bringing it up, because they don't stand a chance in remotely understanding. Matter of factly, most people without one, are pretty quick to judge those of us who do come out and say something about it. In my experience, most people either think you're lying, trying to get attention, or should just not feel the way you do. Like there's some magic switch you should be able to flip and *POOF*, not see yourself as fat. Believe me, if that was the case, if there was a magic switch, every last one of us would flip it. And don't get me started on trying to raise a DAUGHTER in a way that you do everything in your power, to not let her see what you struggle with everyday; hoping, praying, crossing your fingers and toes, that she doesn't grow up thinking about HER body, the way you think about yours. Although, in that department i'd be inclinded to think i'm doing a damn good job.

I've been struggling with anorexia since i was about 14/15 or so. There were days in my teens when my daily calorie intake came from saltines and cough drops mixed in with nicotine. I vividly remember almost passing out in 8th grade gym class. I stopped religiously weighing myself when i got down to 100lbs. It wasn't until i broke my jaw at 16 and my doctor told my mom that if i lost weight, any weight at all, he'd admit me back into the hospital, that my family came to see what i thought i was doing a good job at hiding. Kinda ironic that some people resort to getting their mouth wired shut to LOOSE weight, and there i was; told i couldn't loose any at all.  The thing with having an e.d. is, while it  changes your mindset; you still know what you're doing and that you shouldn't be doing. You know you're not necessarily fat and that you need to eat, your eyes see something completely different. While your mind often will flip flop back and forth, your eyes and what they see are forever changed. While your brain can be telling you that you look just fine, your eyes see a fat blob. And it doesn't matter what anyone says, you see what you see; and that's the only thing that matters. I aplaud Husband and his tenacity in the way he deals with me. LOL In soooo many ways, he's my rock, i wish i could just get him to understand that it doesn't matter what he thinks, it doesn't matter what he says, what matters is what I think, feel, and see.  And even though i get frusterated and pissed that in 12 years, he won't let me have a scale, i'm thankful for his willingness to stand firm. I'm also glad he doesn't even try to understand. LOL

32 Weeks and counting....

If you woulda asked me 33 weeks ago where i saw myself in 32 weeks, i wouldn't have been able to answer you. Because 33 weeks ago, i was more worried about keeping myself from going through withdrawl, that was my first thought and last though everyday. I didn't want it to be, i hated it, loathed it, i was living in a horrible version of hell. But things change. People change. And when people change for the better, live's all around them change. 32 weeks ago i made a conscience effort to go through something much worse than the hell i had been living in, with 100000% faith that the person i was, was not the person i was suppose to be. It wasn't the person my daughter needed. It wasn't the person my loved ones needed. It wasn't someone i could be proud, so how on earth could i expect anyone else to be. I couldn't even look myself in the eyes anymore. I'll never forget the first time i experienced withdrawling from the pain meds for my back. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't even say it out loud. I made myself believe that i was, what i called, an "accidental addict." It was the only way i could manage to face each day. I blamed my doctor. I silently blamed my husband for making me help him lift up the piece of flooring that ended up blowing out my back. I had had a job, worked labor intensive positions from the time i was 16 until i hurt my back at 26 and was told i'd likely never be able to work again. I had nothing in my life that was soley mine. Nothing to give me a sense of pride, of accomplishment. Of self worth. I was stuck in a never ending spiral of self pitty. I thought it was everyone else's fault, but mine. It wasn't until 32 weeks ago, it wasn't until watching numorous Intervention shows, reading countless articles, and thinking of the loved ones i lost to addiction. It wasn't until facing everything that i had ran from for 3 years, that i realized there's no such thing as an "accidental addict". I've come to the conclusion that everyone who becomes addicted to any type of drug, it's not an accident. There's hurt there, severe unresolved emotional pain. A hollowness that nothing can seem to fill, but drugs can cover up. Some of us never reach a point where we can see a light at the end of a tunnel, a light that shows up out of no where; precisly when we need it most. Some of us take our addiction as far as one possibly can, and that's dying from it. However, i believe with all my heart, every addict is shown a light. A way out. The hardest part is having faith. Not so much the faith that things will get better, that withdrawl is only temporary. More the faith that you are worth more, ment for more, deserve more. And that you will do it, that failure is no longer an option. Is being drug free worth it? Hell yes. Is having to deal with the unresolved hurt, worth the tears that get shed? Damn straight. Are there things just as scarey about being clean as what there were being an addict? Most certainly. I will be an addict until the day i die. Do i worry about the fact that i will need back surgery, and not be able to take pain meds? All the time. The knowledge alone that no matter what, no matter how much physical pain you're in, you cannot take ANYTHING that is narcotic based or has any addictive factors, is overwhelming at times. Frankly, this winter was hell. The cold, dampness puts me in a world of hurt, that i've had to learn to deal with, on my own. Everyday, unless i have to go somewhere, i'm in my p.j. pants because honestly, it hurts to wear jeans. I'm no where near as active as i was 33 weeks ago, because i actually feel the pain i'm in. Quite often i feel like such a bad mom because i can't physically do the things with Bailey that could 33 weeks ago. The biggest, hardest realization came to me on Valentine's day, when i was; more or less (LOL), forced into having to buy running sneakers. Not because i go running. But the Converses that i adore so much, kill my back. I'm not too proud to admit i cried a little. I felt like i was losing part of my identity. But then again, i've litterally been wearing the same pair for probably going on 4 years now. They sit along side my Puma's now, and more often than not, i still go for them. I know it's only a matter of time until Jesse either throws them away, or hides them from me. LOL
33 Weeks ago, if you woulda asked me if i was on cloud nine, it woulda been because i was high as kite. But today, 32 weeks later, i'm beyond on cloud nine. For the first time in a long time, maybe even that i can remember, i have a sense of peace with myself. Sure, there are still somethings i'm not happy with, but then again, it's only been 32 weeks since i got my ass clean, and quite frankly if i were a more patient person, i wouldn't be bothered by them. LOL For the first time that i can remember, i know i have a purpose. I may not be where i want to be, YET. But all be damned, i'm working hard to get there. I can't think of an apropriate word to describe how overly enthusiastic i am about having the confidence in myself, and what it is that i want for myself, to have accepted two offers of photographing weddings. For the first time in a VERY long time, my ADHD brain is working overtime on something i actually want it to. It's filled with visions of photographs, poses, things to do and get. I wish i was more artistic when it comes to putting those photo ideas on paper, because frankly, they're pretty freaking cool and it's a shame they're stuck in my brain until May. Though i was extreamly hesitant to take either offer, due to the fact that i am EXTREAMLY introverted and hate a change in my routine or doing a damn thing that steps out side of my itty bitty comfort zone, i am SO happy i did. While i'm slightly nervous, it feels so right and so......natural; that the moment of hesitation i had, is gone. It's odd really, i can't recall ever feeling quite so at ease about something. Although, i do believe the peacefulness about it might be going to my head a bit as i am thinking and planning WAY into the future of what this, whatever it is, is. I've always felt that every person on this planet has a natural gift. Something they were put on this earth to share. I thought that about everyone, but myself. I believed that i was good at nothing, that i had zero talent and was pretty much just taking up space. I refused to see what other people saw when it came to what i could do with my camera. Well, hell i still don't really see it. But i'm obssively critical about myself and don't take compliments well at all. Which i am working on, and it's slowly changing. I don't argue NEAR as much when someone tries to tell me i did something right or good. LOL Everyone and their brother gives me either hell or advice when they hear that i positively can't just tell someone what i want paid to take their pictures. And honestly, it's hard to explain, but i wish people would just get it. 33 weeks ago, i couldn't have given a price to someone because, frankly, i believed I, not my photography, but ME wasn't worth a dime. Today, i know what my photography is worth, but more importantly, i know MY WORTH. I now realize and understand why i can't put a price on taking pictures. To me, it feels wrong. It's not that i don't think my time or effort is worth it. It simply doesn't feel right to me. I didn't buy a camera so that i could be a photographer. Shit, i'm surprised i wasn't born with one in my hands. My first camera was a hand me down 35mm that was old when it was handed down. I think i might have been about 16 or so. I used that camera, i LOVED that 35mm camera. I REFUSED to buy a digital camera until someone came out with an SLR. So, my second camera was a hand me down point and shoot, that was old when it was handed to me when i was about 27. And i didn't buy my Canon until Bailey was born. I've used 3 camera's in my life. 3. Since she came 11 weeks early, we were able to claim her on our taxes for 2007, which was another surprise we hadn't planned on. I bought my camera with that extra tax return money. It was a good camera 4 years ago, it's still a good camera. But i wanted it to take pictures of my daughter, and nature, and people, and whatever the hell else i thought would reflect me. I had finally broke down and bought a digital camera. The VERY FIRST camera that i had ever bought. It's still my only camera. I've still only ever bought one camera in my life. It not a means of making money. It's not a way to get attention. It's truely an extension of myself. I've taken photos that look like shit with it, but i've also taken many that are truely priceless. And whether they're photos i've taken of my family or photos i've taken for someone else. To me, they're one in the same, with the exception that i take more time and put in more effort when taking them for someone else. When my other laptop crashed, i was crushed. I was convinced that i had lost every single picture that i had taken. Not just the ones i had taken for myself, but the ones that had taken of other people, for other people. Perhaps i put too much value on a photograph. But to me, they're something entirely different. I don't see a picture. I don't see a moment caught on "film". I look at photo that i have taken and ones that i haven't taken, and i am there. In that memory. I see it, i can feel it. I smell it, hear it, and feel it. I suppose that's why i place such an importance on pictures. Because to me, they're tangable memories. More than memories, they take me back to any given place with people whom i cherish. I've lost a few photographs over the years, between moving and getting damaged in storage and just flat out disappeared, photographs of people whom i loved but are no longer here. I did recently find one that had been missing for a long time. One of me and two people who have long been burried. Needless to say, it's now locked in my safe. Though, the one i cherished the most, the one that i would give my right boob to find, is one that i took of my "brother", how i remember him. Before he became a herion addict, like most people remember him for. I can close my eyes and see it crystal clear, even 14 years after i took it, we're 15/16 on his porch, laughing about me wanting to take his picture. But it's not the same. Over the past 32 weeks, i've gotten back to taking what it is that i do, seriously.
3 years and 33 weeks ago, i had no idea who i was,, nor what my purpose in this world was. And i hadn't for very long time. I was coasting through life and not playing my part. Someone was, but that girl wasn't this one. She looked alot like me on the outside, but no where close where it truely matters. Most of us know the difference between what feels wrong and what feels right. They're not exactly feelings that can be put into words, but we all know what it feels like. Never before, that i can remember, i have done something, wanted something, WORKED for something, that feels so undenibley right that it gives me an overwhelming sense of peace, a feeling of worth. A sense of pride. That feeling like, this is right where i'm suppose to be and this life that i have been given, this SECOND chance at life, is gonna be alright. I am certain my purpose, my gift to this world; corny, cocky, and arrogantly as it may sound, is to take photographs. And at this very moment, i could careless if i never, EVER recieve a dime for it. I get how that sounds, i get that for most people, they'll never get it. But i don't really care. Because it makes perfect sense to me, even if i can't put it into words. I've been told my views on that will most likely change. But i highly doubt something that feels wrong to me now, will ever feel right, no matter how much money it could make me. 33 Weeks ago, money was a big deal, because the lack of money, sent panic through my mind and body. Today, i've learned what it means to be happy, what it really feels like. I found that part of me that i had a long time ago, the kid. The one who gets happiness, from seeing the things she does for someone else, makes them happy. Brings them, maybe just a little, joy.
I used to be, litterally, my own worst enemy, and in many ways i still am. But i'm catching on quickly to what means to be proud of yourself, and not need anyone elses validation. That i don't need someone else to tell me they're proud of me, or that i'm doing a good job. Would i positively LOVE to hear my mom say it, yes. Very much so. But, i no longer need it. Because for the first time, i'm proud of myself. Proud of where i've been and what i've gone through. Proud of the honesty i set in motion 32 weeks ago. Proud of where i am and where i have yet to be. While i'm still my biggest enemy, most days now; i'm my biggest fan. I still have issues that will never go away. I will always think i'm fat and will always have body imagine issues. But, today i'm heavier than i've been in years, but i'm still eating; not starving myself to fit back into my favorite jeans, instead i bought a new pair, that fit. And while i may have a horrible body image, i am proud of the fact that my daughter doesn't see it. That for 4 years i've sucked up my feelings about how i think i look, and have not projected my self esteem issues, onto her. In my house, the word fat when used in association with a persons body, is a gihugic no no. Matter of factly, the word itself is almost never used. I'm not even sure she would know what the word ment if someone said they're fat. For people like me, girls with eating disorders, severely low self esteem, whatever, that's a giant task in itself, it may not seem like much to you, but go a day and really watch what you say about the differences in others, or the little things you may say about yourself, or even say to your kids. I find it humbling that for all the time i spent keeping her away from Barbie stuff and princessy stuff, that she likes those things anyway. But it makes me proud that of all the Disney princess's, her favorite is Ariel. And she's technically not a princess, atleast not to Bailey, to her; Ariel's the girl with the red hair. These last 32 weeks have been a mish mash of 60% uphill-bothways-had- to- walk- 4- miles- in- the- snow -with- bare- feet, and 40% easy sailing. Though it's been unbelievible hard, if you're in the same place i was 32 weeks ago, it's not nearly as hard as i thought i woulda been. You just gotta want it. With every fiber of your being. It's hard to say what has been harder for me, the week or so of hard withdrawl i went through in the begining, or having to pick up the pieces of your past and figure out how to put them back together, having to answer for the wrongs that you did, having to put yourself out there and come clean, not just litterally, but figuratively. Having to face your family, friends, and in my case, all of you, and tell them what your are and that you not only need help, but want it. Letting go of the what if's and seeing who you really, truely mattered to and having to be faced with the reality that some people, some people who you thought would still be by yourside, were the first to leave. Working hard to over come the stigma that comes along with comming clean, earning back trust. Afterall, the withdrawl's long been over, but it's been 32 weeks, and i'm still faced with everything that i was on day one. Jesse laughs because we have this running "joke", say I won't and God damn it i will. If i had to bet, i'd say more than a few people never thought in a bazzillion years that today, March 2, 2012, i'd be saying i got 32 weeks clean. But i do. And i know that next Friday, i'll have 33, and the Friday after that, 34. I done marked week 52 on my calendar. I don't for a single, minescule second doubt the fact that some Friday 30 years from now, i'll be saying "HAPPY 30+ YEARS TO ME". Somethings in this life you just know. Like, i know i'm gonna do great things in this world, even if it's just take pictures. And that 30+ years from now, i'll be celebrating 30+ years clean. I thank those of you who have been there through the thick and thin of it. Who didn't judge me. Who were proud of me. Who stood by me. If we were ment to go through the darkest of times alone, there wouldn't be so many people who keep their light on for us.

Happy 4th Due Day Bitty.....

This Friday will be Bitty's 4th Due Day. It's the day i was suppose to be scheduled for a c-section. It was suppose to be her birthday. Now, it's just a day. The day she was suppose to be born. She could care less really. LOL But i always get a little sentimental. And as Friday grows closer, the more sappy i feel. In general, it takes very little to get my mind thinking philisophically, for instance; while riding her bike this afternoon she asked me how i wanted her to ride "fast, slow, or normal?" Carefully. That was my answer. I don't care if you go fast or slow, i don't care if you go normally, just be careful. And that one word led me to one conclusion. There's a difference between carefully and carelessly. Duh, right? LOL So, here it is, my letter to Bitty for her 4th due day:
   I want you to be carefully careless. Love everyone you know and meet, carelessly. Let everyone you let in, take a piece of you with them when they leave, more than likely, they've already left a piece of themselves with you. Never, under any circumstances, stop questioning everything that you think you know. When you close your mind, you close your heart. Expect nothing short of greatness from yourself and everyone you let close to you, and when they fail to live up to those expectation, as they will without a doubt do, you'll be pissed. But, get over it. Don't hold it over them and don't let it define them or yourself. We are all greater than the sum of our failures, unfortunately some people see only those. Don't be one of those people. Find the good in everyone. Trust me, it's there. If you fail to find it, just keep looking. Sometimes, the good in someone is the lesson you learn when you walk away. Be careless. Just, please be careful. Be careful when you look in the mirror. Because i am certain that the only person who can possibly hurt you the most, is the one that looks back. Be careful when you point your finger and place blame on someone else, rarely are our mistakes a result of someone else. Be careful when looking behind you, you will miss what's always been right in front of you.

Merry Fuckin' Christmas......

my mom loses her health insurance at the end of this month. She's still is suppose receive chemo until January/Feb. Each round of chemo costs about $12,000. Her solution? Quit receiving chemo when Medical Assistance drops her. Husbands's work ...is raising their health insurance to about $140 a WEEK, durring the time of year when they're lucky if they work enough hours to cover the cost of their insurance. Coincidently, they're off on Monday and IF they work the rest of next week, it will most likely be the last "week" they work until after the new year. And believe me, i could keep going on but honestly i really don't care to. I don't do sad and miserable with anyone, i prefer to do it alone. I don't go seeking for a shoulder to cry on, or an ear to listen to me. I don't reach out in hopes someone will hold my hand, I don't freely talk about what bothers me and rarely cry infront of anyone, including my husband. I deal with my shit on my own, it's my shit. And right now, i don't give a rats ass about anyone else's miserableness.

Shutter........

I'm not sure what it is that has me thinking so much lately about, well, pretty much everything. I don't know if it's the whole turning 30 thing, or the fact that it's winter, or that i just plain down feel stuck and unispired. And when i say i've been thinking about pretty much everything, i mean it. From wishing i could just get over everything and have another baby to my mom and her chemo. From figuring out whether i want another laptop or to get a desktop instead (i've settled on http://www.shopping.hp.com/webapp/shopping/load_configuration.do?destination=review&config_id=6872639&jumpid=in_r329_saveconfig, i'm just waiting to win the lottery) to how to keep my feet from getting so freakin' cold all the time. (it makes my back hurt that much more) I spent hours upon hours burning everyone, well nearly everyone, of my 13,000+ pictures onto disks, to only have it dawn on me that out of those 13,000, there are several thousand beautiful pictures. Pictures that will most likely sit on a disk, never to be seen again. My laptop is beyond shot, so i damn near refuse to load any pictures i take onto it, so there's more than a few just sitting on my memory card. I have photo after photo of Bitty, BEAUTIFUL photos of her, yet none on my walls. I started working on a project for some family members with the wedding pictures i took, but since my laptop is fuckin' retarded, it has difficulties wanting to let me back on the site to finish it. I'm still waiting to hear back from the copywrite office, hell for all i know they didn't get my e-mail with the picture attatched to it. I never got said picture turned in for the heART of Friendship art auction this year because, well, revert to previous sentence. I hate my camera and know it's only a matter of time before i need to replace it aswell, however the one my heart is set on costs more than the computer i want. Quite a bit more actually, http://shop.usa.canon.com/webapp/wcs/stores/servlet/product_10051_10051_201108_-1. But dispite my scattered constant thoughts and technilogical malfunctions, the ONLY thing i can seem to want to do, IS TAKE SOME MORE PICTURES. Even that ain't comming to me as easily as it usually does. I need to take pictures of something new, someone new. I need to take pictures like, well like i used to need to take drugs. Don't get me wrong, i took pictures, damn good ones, long before i quite using, but now photography is something entirely different to me. It means so much more to me now than ever before. When i hear that shutter go off, my mind goes quiet. There is peace and an unbelievable clarity. I stared at my camera for a very long time durring the days and weeks after i quit using. Worried that i lost something. Worried that i could no longer see things the way i used to through that view finder. Worried and scared. I still remeber the very first things i took pictures of the day i picked my camera back up. I took simple, poopy pictures of my MIL's little fish pond and the flowers she had planted around it. I took a few pictures of a pretty white moth that landed on the pretty little white flowers right infront of my camera. They were shitty pictures. But for the first time in a long time, my heart was light. I get crap all the time for never charging anyone when asked to take their pictures. And while i know that i'll never get that camera i want and i'll never be able to claim a professional photographer title until the day i get paid for doing photography, i really could care less. Nobody ever quite understands when i try to explain my reasons for doing it the way i do, i've pretty much just resorted to simply saying i don't think i'm all that good, which isn't a lie and is one of the reasons i won't charge anyone, but it's not the real reason. I just simply LOVE to take pictures, i don't care who they're for, and i believe everyone should have those pictures that instantly spark not only a memory but pure emotion. Real ones, not those posed, fake-a-smile ones. It's not something i do, it's who i am. Every picture i take, whether it's for me or someone else, is part of me. You can't see it, but it's there. Some people meditate, some people pray. Some people go for a run while others might take a hot bath to clear their mind, help them relax. Me, i take pictures. And right now, i needs to take me some freakin' pictures. Or at the least, do something with the pictures i already have. I swear i hear my poor camera yelling at me from within it's little bag. And somedays i swear, if it didn't piss me off so bad, i might take it out and just snap away at random crap. But at the rate my technilogical problems have been going, it's probably safer tucked away with my lenses. Lord knows if forced to chose between a new camera or a new computer, i'm going with the camera. And at this moment i don't have that kinda money, and i damn certain can't go without one, which would means if i break this one anytime soon, i'm gonna need to sell a kidney.....LOL

OMG, I'm 30............

Apparently, i didn't sleep through today. LOL Which means, today i turn 30. Which, by the way, is not why i dislike my birthday. I don't care that chronologicallly i'm 30, it is afterall, only a number. I still get carded for ANYTHING you need to be over 18 to buy. I still wear the same size clothes i did when i was 16, probably not a good thing, but whatever. People still try to give me candy when i take Bitty trick or treating. Half the time, i still feel like i should be in high school, though i can honestly say, i'm glad i'm not. Not that i wouldn't do certain things differently now, like actually pay attention, not be so oblivious to certain things or about certain people. But there's no do over's, so oh well. I find it slightly amusing how so many people say age is only a number, yet their lives are almost dictated by that number. Some hide it, not wanting to admit they're of a certain age. Some, feel that they need to have certain things accomplished by a set age. Some believe there's a magic number in which you automatically become old. Which, i've felt old since i turned about 21, so that should make me elderly by now. Life has this way of trying to steal from us, what naturally makes us, well, us. It says, after high school you either need to go to college or get a job. It says that by the time you're my age, you should damn certain have your life figured out and grow the hell up. It makes you feel like, if you have children you must drive the minivan or some other equivelant, you need to have the good job, or be the poster spouse for the 1950's. Considering i still don't know what i wanna be when i grow up, i'd say i'm failing miserably. But sometimes, failing at something, is simply refusing to give in or give up. I WILL be that purple haired lady in the nursing home, racing her wheelchair soley for bragging rights. And you can bet your ass i'll have on some funky beanie and pair of Chucks. Life and growing up can only take away what you let it, and growing up doesn't go hand in hand with growing old. We've all been growing older since the moment we were born, but go ahead and tell a 4 year old to grow up, for that matter, go ahead and try to tell a 4 year old to do anything. I have NO intention of growing up, matter of fact, i've always known i would die young, but hell i might be 80 by the time that happens. And i'm happy to say that, with the exception of one goal, i'm honestly happy with the things i've accomplished and if by some twist of fate i would pass away tomorrow, i'd be okay with that. I've done alot, been through entirely too much shit, and seen more than i'd admit in my meager 30 years. I've burned a few bridges, hurt way too many, i've screwed up more than my fair share, and felt pride so much i cried. I carry the weight of things that aren't my burden, and forgiven myself for things most people still haven't. I'm overly critical of the girl i see in the mirror, but wouldn't have her anyother way. I may not like the way she looks, but i can't deny what's on the inside. And if there's one thing i've learned through this whole growing older processes, it's to never, under any circumstance, ever let life take hold of what's on the inside. Not life, not growing older, not anything. After all, you are you and there is no one more youer than you.