I’ve been feeling the need for a few weeks to exorcise some inner demons. Writing is cathartic for me (I just can’t say that often enough can I?). I have feared that I may offend someone, or that somehow by unleashing what’s inside me there will be repercussions I won’t enjoy. Well, FTS. On my busiest blog day ever—4th of July, I think—I had 20-something readers. So, what I deduce is that if I express myself on my own page only 20-30 people will ever look at it? And of those 20, maybe 2 will be offended? I give myself permission to be me.

I’ll just start by saying love feels like a demon to me. Now, rationally I understand it’s a lack of love that is the demon, never love. But then sometimes the mind and the heart are not in sync. It isn’t easy (and creepy) like iPhone and Facebook people. I can tell you honestly that twice in my life I’ve had an experience that felt like real love (like the Beatles song) and lasted a few years. I can also attest that it ended horribly both times. Now, I sit here and wonder if I am so screwed up that I’ve never known love? Love doesn’t always last. In both situations I speak of, people evolved and we became so separate that life together didn’t make sense. It didn’t make happiness either.

Yet, I’m always chasing a spark that I long to feel once again. And Lord Jesus whyyyyyyyy? Why do I chase it so? I can’t answer that. I’m an odd mixture of someone who is fiercely independent and yet loves to be around others. I like that I can do whatever I want to do at my house. No one is here so I can run around naked, rearrange the furniture, watch depressing old black and white movies, whatever! I do none of that, FYI. Seriously though, I do like that I have my own space and my hundreds of unfinished projects aren’t in anyone’s way or annoying someone. And then, there’s that tug. I wish that someone was here to help me finish a couple. Someone to tell me to get the collages done so the carpet can be vacuumed. Maybe a pair of helping hands to get my bicycle together and laugh as I learn to ride again. And a more serious housekeeper wouldn’t hurt any feeling I possibly have.

I digress. Back to this endless spark chase. Maybe it’s my biological clock. It was ticking, now it’s like an alarm going off. It certainly isn’t because I see a slew of other people loving their relationships. Actually, there’s a few relationships I admire (probably because I don’t live them) but for the most part I sit back and think, “Yeah you have fun with that.” Perhaps I’m an attention whore? But I really like to give attention more than get it. I’m a great assistant on every level. And seeing as how I make large decisions that impact our business and other people all day, every day without much time to think it over, I really don’t want to be the major decision maker. In fact, I often wonder if I could be ‘the man’ in the relationship? I mean, can I be the breadwinner who goes to the office and stresses over work and have a man who is cleaning the house but is still an alpha male and runs the show? Is that having and eating one’s own cake? And that’s a bit of an exaggerated idea of what I’d like FYI for anyone reading this who somehow ended up remaining on my friends list and has no idea how snarkey I can be.

That last paragraph only leads me further down the darkened tunnel I call a soul. I’m an oxymoron inside myself. I’m not proclaiming to be the best one to teach a seminar on balance in one’s life but I never considered myself unbalanced (for long periods of time)(and that’s what matters). I like to think I can spot problems areas or excessiveness and buff it right out. And maybe I can, except when it comes to mating. OR, maybe there are so few balanced people that it’s really hard finding another one like me! Like how there are Jack in the Box’s all over TX but you can’t eat Jack in the Box here! It’s not to be found. Geez, nothing is coming of this blog except more questions and unveiling my true crazy nature (and undying love of Jack in the Box tacos).

Maybe I put it best in a message to a friend: “It just sucks getting old and being retarded at the same damn thing after all these years.” And, now that it’s off my chest, I do feel better. I never clearly identified my demons. Or, maybe they’re dancing all around me like the Grateful Dead bears and I just don’t see them because we’ve been doing this same number for so long. Or, most likely, this is the same kind of feelings that swoosh over people when things don’t work out and I just need a minute to pick myself up, dust off, and give myself a soul hug and thank God for the friendship and gifts brought to me by everyone who enters my path. <—– OK, there it is, there I am!! I knew I was in there. Whew, I was thinking this was going to be a blog where I left more stumped than when I entered it. Who knows what will happen tomorrow. And tonight, I WILL be grateful for the times like this and for having garnered a best friend out of it all. Goodnight, Jerry. Love, Elaine.

From my journal.  Inspired by a post on Facebook by Cali Rob.

APRYL HALL

I just looked in the mirror and loved the girl smiling back at me.  I love Eminem, New York City, Oprah [ALL things Oprah], tattoos even though I only have 3.  Any book is a friend.  I pray over my food.  I am brave, spontaneous, & know laughter can heal.  I love my dog and if she got along with others I’d have many, many more.  I left my past but choose to look back at it fondly.  I make collages & write ramblings.  These things heal me.  I’ve come this far because of my strengths and in spite of my weaknesses, but never alone.  I’m unafraid of relocating but cannot imagine falling in love with another place like I have the Mississippi Coast.  I’m always open to possibility—especially when it looks like I’m not.  That’s when I need it most.  I’m still growing up & am a self-improvement & quote junkie.  I have a shade of evil & dark inside me that karma keeps in check regularly.  I’ve found patience isn’t a virtue, it’s the greatest & my biggest obstacle.  I miss my family—blood & other—& hope my little, bitty life makes them very proud.  I’ve loved many times & do not ever see that as a loss.  Get it while you can; all things change.  Technology has started to get the best of me & I’m considering letting some of it go.  Facebook is like E! channel but all people you know.  Or crush on.  Or can’t remember how they got on your friends list but it’s too compelling to delete them.  And finally, I use Downy April Fresh because it has my name (sorta) on it. 

Got some weird obsession with Eminem lately, as most of you know from FB. Something in this rings a bell…
“Imprisoned by a selfish bitch
Chew me up and spit me out
I fell for this so many times
It’s ridiculous
And still I stick with this
I’m sick of this but in my sickness and addiction
You’re addictive as they get
Evil as they come vindictive as they make em
My friends keep asking me why I can’t just walk away from
I’m addicted
To the pain, the stress, the drama
I’m drawn in so I guess imma mess
Cursed and blessed”
(25 to Life)

I’ve got to make this quick.  I’m on my (rare) lunch break.  It’s purge time I guess.  Not blogging often enough causes me inner anxiety.  I apologize for littering the virtual universe with my problems (or lack thereof) but it’s soothing.  And it’s optional for you to even read this.

I’ve had two aha moments in the last 24 hours.  The first thought struck me last night.  I was doing that thing where I try to go to sleep and my brain was flooded with worries, remembering conversations, and even went to the always detrimental “what if things had been different” stage.  I suddenly put the brakes on those thoughts.  It hit me–my own thoughts were keeping me unhappy.  These things that happen to us and with our permission sometimes leave wounds.  But that’s it.  Wounds.  Not diseases.  In other words, no matter what it is yes it hurt, yes it took time to heal, yes you had to modify life to learn to live with the pain, but it heals.  And yes, there’s a scar.  Some scars are bigger than others but it heals eventually.  The only person who take your wounds and make them diseases are you and you do it with your thoughts.  That relationship, that job, that person, that love, that opportunity–whatever nags at you–is OVER.  By keeping the thoughts alive I was turning my wounds into a disease and giving it the life it needed to hurt me.  Time to bury the past and move on.

The second thought occurred as I exited the bathroom earlier.  I looked in the mirror and thought, “Wow, that is one nice [behind].”  And it hit me once again that until I love the skin I’m in (thanks, Dove) you will not take care of it and transform it.  Think about it–we put time and energy and nurture into things we love, not things that irritate us or make us sad and bring us to a lowly state.  If I keep thinking negatively about my body, it will not get the attention and care from me it deserves because honestly I’d rather just not think about it.  And then I realized, there are a few things to love about it.  My waistline isn’t one of them but girls with waistlines like I want have to pay to get the natural bust and ass I got!!  I just need to exercise and it will be awesomeness.  I have been blessed with an hour glass.  A little love and attention to it would only be right.  So, I’m starting HerbaLife this month and I will keep in mind I’m doing it for the things I LOVE and not the things I HATE.

Lesser matters, I cannot for the life of me decide if I want to commit to a Kindle Fire or not!!!  Advice appreciated.  The iPad was awesome but it gave me a serious headache when I read on it.  The Kindle cut the headache out but the basic Kindle is really blah and you can’t change the brightness setting at all.  I should have gotten the paperwhite Kindle and maybe I would be happy.

I am loving being free from all commitments except work these days.  I waited months for the craziness to stop so I could enjoy this time and catch up on work.  I spent my New Years working well into the early morning hours and all the next day.  It was awesome.  Now, I guess I better clock back in so I can get more of the weight off my shoulders.