Miss Independent

OK. Let me start this post off by saying over the past few months (the ones that I actually posted), my blog went from fun/funny, posts, to a little bit more personal and sappy. Sometimes I need the outlet to vent and get some feedback on my complicated and sometimes extremely overwhelming life. This is the last 'personal' post I think I'm going to write for some time. Not at all because it's not what does or does not sell, but because I actually have my drive to write back, and while I was on my Saturday morning jog this morning, my mind was racing with things to write about. I really missed the flowing words that used to come so naturally to me.

I've always considered myself a "Miss Independent". If you don't understand what I mean, exactly by that, I'll explain. In my humble opinion, Miss Independent is the type of woman that feels like she can get by just fine on her own. I've never really needed a best friend or a man to complete me, or make me feel like my opinions meant something. I don't need backup when I believe in something and I don't need reassurance that I'm making the right decision. I do often struggle with being a more independent-type-woman, because it means staying pretty busy. Very busy, actually.

Human nature is wanting some kind of companionship. Human nature is calling someone when you're excited about something or proud of an achievement or accomplishment. This is no way saying that I have no friends, at all. I do have plenty of friends, but the amount of close, personal friends are extremely few and far between. I have a feeling that this stems from my childhood. This is a subject I've touched on before, so it doesn't need much explaining. If you haven't been reading this blog for a long time, or you have, but you overlooked this post, you should read it to get an idea. It explains a hell of a lot about the person that is, Simply Curious Girl.

It's obvious that I don't often open my heart and let someone in. When I do though, I do it wholeheartedly. Its not easy to do, and it leaves me vulnerable to all kinds of pain and heartache. The last three, (and only three) times that I've done it, I've made it very clear before I did, that I'm a very sensitive person. I'm the type of person that needs defending because I can't fight. I'm the type of person that would rather cower and cry than get in someone's face or scream and fight. So this time has been no different. The day I realized I was open and my heart was exposed, I made it advertently clear what kind of woman I am because I didn't want to get hurt. I don't want to hurt... Who wants to hurt?!?!

I'm not quite sure where I'm going with this post, because I can't really explain to myself, let alone anyone else, what's going on in my situation, right now. But I do want to say that my heart has taken a bit of a strike and I just need a little bit of comfort. Last night, I curled up in the fetal position, in bed and cried like I haven't cried in quite some time. My stuffed Eeyore comforted me like he used to when I was a little girl, and I just sobbed until I could sob no more. This morning my eyes are nice and puffy and I'm still dragging a little. OK. A lot... Why do I feel like my world is crashing down around me, and will it go away?

Before I end this post on a sad, shitty note, I really wanted to thank the people that have stood by this blog and stood by me, even through all that time that I was gone. The emails and IMs that I've gotten mean a lot more to me than I let on. So, thank you, everyone. I do accept checks and money orders if you're feeling generous. Oh, and of course PayPal.

Weary, so underrate my jury
fear me, I push pencil fury
standing over you like a mirage
hazard warning
safe sabotage

I underrated my rating
left the court debating
oh sorry baby, were you waiting?
in the clear but still fading

love is real man
so what if the ocean's rocks miss you
and in the beginning, it was actually pretty easy to resist you
but I had to eat the bug that bit you

I'm sitting under you
like a fascade
safe sabotage

tired of not running
ice cream sundaes
with you I actually love Mondays
and face a lot of mundane days
like a crossroad thats only one-way

Safe sabotage...


I generally post once or twice a week when I'm regularly posting, so next week back my regularly scheduled programing. I didn't realize how much I missed my blog until I started typing. I'm most definitely back!!

I Love the Rain the Most...When it Stops

It's not often that I have the house completely to myself. Between my Mom and my sister, I'm usually dodging one of them left and right. This weekend my Mom went out of town to my aunt's funeral and my sister went to work, heading to her boyfriend's after.

So I was sitting in front of the fire with my pet laptop, when one of the dogs started crying and begging me to take him out. I got up, wandered to get his leash, still warm and lethargic from the heat of the fire I had going, and before I put it on him, I opened the door. Please note I was wearing nothing but a wifebeater, undies, and flip flops when I flew out the door after him screaming for him to stop because he managed to slip past me, before I got the leash on him.

Where I live, it's pitch black. It's in the middle of the woods, in the mountains, and you really don't run out without a flashlight. It was pouring rain and the dog was nowhere to be found.

Push Play

I stood in the middle of the clearing in front of the house, Christmas lights flashing, shivering just a bit, rain pouring down on my head and shoulders, and I let my head fall back and the rain pounded onto my face, dripping down over my neck, chest and body. I forgot all about the dog, and I could hear the music in my house playing behind me and I began to sway, letting my hands rise toward the sky and I smiled. I smiled so big that giant tears began to mesh with the rain falling, and I spun in circles, arms stretched out at my sides, palms up, in the pouring, cold, rain. Occasionally I slowed even more just to wipe the vast amounts of rain getting in my eyes and nose.

With Mazzy Star lulling in the background, I crossed my hands over my chest and realized I wasn't smiling anymore. I was full on bawling in front of the house in the rain and still swaying to the soft sounds of the rainfall and dim music. I cried for everything and everyone. I cried for all the times I forgot to cry when I've lost something or I hurt in the past. I cried for all the pain I had hidden away so well when people were watching me. I just cried. I cried for me. Knowing no one could see me or hear me because of the rain, I bawled to a point where I could hear myself sobbing. Still spinning in the rain, slowly; soaked and shivering.

Eventually the dog came back, standing at my feet, looking at me, perplexed as to why I was standing, sobbing in the rain, almost naked. I imagine in his mind he was calling me a stupid human.

I knelt down, scraping one of my knees a little bit on the gravel rocks, and with a slight stinging ache, watched him run around me, count, four times before he stopped and let me put the leash on him. I walked around the house, not crying anymore and I felt more cleansed than I'd ever felt. Sometimes, all we need is a really good cry, all alone, in the pouring rain.

Just remember...rain is cold and you'll be shaking uncontrollably for about 20 minutes, even after you're back in the house and in front of the fire. I'm STILL cold.

I thought shit like this only happened in the movies...

Death Happens

Why is it that when we cry our mouths salivate? Is it because the throat gets swollen? Is it to wash our mouths? We cry when we're in pain and tears are an antiseptic? Do our tongues swell and push against a salivary gland or something?

Honestly, I think it's because God gives us saliva so that we have a harder time talking when we cry, to prevent us from saying things we don't really mean when we don't know how to express exactly what we're feeling in a healthy manner. It might also be a defense mechanism. People stay away from weeping, drooling messes. It's human nature. The ones that love us no matter what, let the snot and drool get all over them while they hold us and tell us everything is going to be OK.

I've been pretty snotty and drooly this morning.

My Grandmother died today on this day before we traditionally give thanks, and I'm very thankful to have been this woman's Granddaughter. Because of this, I feel the need to tell you all a little bit about her.

She was a good woman. She tried to be a better woman. She changed over the years and became a quieter version of herself. I heard plenty of stories about the crazy things she did back when she was younger. Back before she had to become responsible and become an adult.

I'm not going to go on and on about her, because something tells me that's not what she would've wanted. She probably would've told me not to waste my time. She is the type of person that will be missed by hundreds of people. She rarely kept to herself, and had a mouth on her that would keep you giggling. Very intimidating and loud when she got going. Very blunt and stubborn, as well. She damn sure made sure that she took care of the people that mattered to her. You can bet your ass that those handfuls of people she loved and cared for are going to miss her tremendously.

She loved sitting in her living room, in her recliner, feet kicked back, remote in one hand and she watched television, her head leaning back more and more as she fell asleep watching her shows. She had her things that made her happy. She was a diabetic and hid Twinkies in her room, and got caught on more than one occasion.

She lived in the same home for so many years before she had to go to a nursing home, that she hated. She bitched that they were all Filipinos and talking about her when she couldn't understand them. It was a conspiracy, I tell you.

The funeral will be Monday, most likely. I have to wonder if she would want a lot of fuss made over her. But we have a huge family and a close knit one at that, so there's no way we wouldn't all gather in her memory. I'm writing this at the risk that she wouldn't approve and neither would my family, but I wanted to tell the world that she existed. I want everyone to know that I had a Grandmother and I'm very sad that she's gone. And this is my diary. So if I didn't write it, it would be like saying that it wasn't important to me. Reading back over these words, for the first time now, is making this all feel, very real. It's all sort of sinking in. I'm telling myself, as I'm telling all of you...I lost my father and my Grandmother is a short period of time, and it hurts. It hurts very much.

So Gramma S and Dad...I don't know all that much about the Internet, but I have an incredible hope that these electronic waves are made out of some of the same particles you're made of now. I know we didn't get a chance to formally say goodbye...any of us, but I hope that maybe you can feel these words and feel all the love I'm shoving into them. I'm packing them in along with all the things I never got to say to either of you.

Thank you for being my Gramma, and make sure they let you have Twinkies up there in heaven every once in awhile. I know how much it'd mean to you.

Is it true deaths always happen in threes? I don't know if I could handle another one. My other Grandmother is also very old and not very well. I don't know what I'm going to do if I lose her too. Time to put on my headphones and cry.

Just a little note: For those that check my blog regularly, I probably won't be posting until the middle of or late next week. The Rosary is on Monday, and the funeral is on Tuesday, so I want to give myself the time to properly mourn and clear my head a little bit. I'll be back though.