I Speak Gibberish

Do you ever get that feeling that no matter what you say, or how you say it, it's never going to come out right? Frustrating, right? You leave the conversation after having invested hours and minutes of good, perfect, flawless time in..... not getting anywhere at all. I'm super good at it. I'm super good at it because my face gives me away, or it makes a face that people interpret as mean or mad or confused, when really I could be thinking about the fact that my tummy is upset. All they leave with is hearing my gibberish; my incomplete sentences, my stuttering, and my bumpy delivery. If only we were all telepathic. That way, when people that speak gibberish, like I do, can't get a message across, they have something to fall back and say, "See?! I wasn't thinking that at all!" I'm "angry" when I can't get the words out or I'm "flaky" because I want to leave before I hurt someone with my gibberish. I can't seem to do it right. For someone that talks an awful lot, I don't seem to say much.

I just had one of those conversations. I want to be angry because I only made it worse. But all I can do is be sick to my stomach & wish for a giant sized band-aid with the teletubbies on it. I wish that the conversation had never happened. I wish that I had a time machine. I wish that we had never met. I wish that I had never affected his life in such a negative way to evoke such strong emotions. I wish. I wish. I wish.

My stomach gets upset when I'm super stressed. I only mention that because it hurts as I'm typing, and it's insisting on being mentioned. I've been super stressed lately-beyond words. For one, I go through a traumatic break-up. I'm taking Chemistry - 'nuff said. I'm also taking Math - bleck. I literally haven't had time to eat the past few weeks. If you know me, you know that when I only eat a banana all day, that = Hurricane Ashley. I'm trying to swim laps, but I don't have time to. Then, my car gets hit & she peels out of the parking lot. Great. Freaking great. I must say, "Freaking Great" are not the words that came out of my mouth as I stood jumping up and down as she peeled out of the parking lot looking right at me - knowing it was too late for me to get her license plate #. It was more like, "*&@&*!@^*!&@(@ AWESOME!" The look I got from the maintenance guys that happened to be checking a light in the parking lot was pure pity. Well, pity and "Let's get outta here. She's nuts."

Been hearing that a lot lately. You know, that I'm nuts. I knew I was emotional, of course. Who didn't know that? But, bi-polar? Crazy? A bitch? Excuse my french, but it's just what I've heard and read lately. This kind of thing to read and soak in, hurts. Like, you know, a lot. I never knew that people that I thought were my friends and people that were happy parts of my past really couldn't stand me at all - that they were so thankful when any interaction with me ended. I care - too much - what other people think. Don't get me wrong, I'm tough. At least, I've always thought I was. Hearing someone thinks you're weak or not nearly as strong as someone who's way better than you hurts too, P.S. I leave before I am left - I try and not invest too much before I get hurt. I can spit fire, son, lemme tell ya. I'm intimidating, and I use it often. BUT...In all honesty, I'm a muffin. You know, they have an exterior that holds them together really well. But all it really was originally was this loose crap. By making it go through things like high heat & stress, you harden it, you toughen it up. But we like our muffins that way, right? Tough - as opposed to loose crap. Apparently I'm not burnt enough - apparently I care too much - I'm too soft. I'm broken - wingless - unstable - uncaring - dismissive - abrasive - uncaring - bi-polar - cold - too passionate. Maybe I am crazy. After all, I do speak Gibberish. And I just compared myself to a muffin.

I CAN be alone

Sometimes, being an extroverted person, I forget that I can actually be alone. I can be alone and not die or become severely depressed. This may sound weird to some of my introverted friends, but this has just recently hit me. Sometimes when something negative happens in my life, I tend to retract to reflect and contemplate what happened. Recently, I've been spending a lot more time alone. I went to watch a movie alone. I've had 2 days off all by myself. I didn't feel the need to ask anyone to come along. I was OK being with my dog and driving my car with the windows down. I'm not usually OK with the solitude - but I'm finding out that it's not just nice, it's crucial for my healthy heart and attitude. What's funny is that most people, when I go to leave and be by myself, immediately ask me where I'm going and if I'm OK. Yep, I'm good. I just need to go now. I've had my fill of people for now. I'm not mad, I'm just ready. Ready to spend some time alone.

God Bless The Broken Road

Why do some people seem to glide over their newly paved road in their new Mercedes-Benz, while others are walking barefoot on their back country gravel road?

Do the barefooted ones appreciate life more when they finally get road work done, than those that always had it? Are there really people that have always had a paved path lined with lilies and daffodils, or does it just seem that way? Is it their attitude towards unfortunate circumstances that make it appear as though their road is paved nicer than mine?

Rascal Flatts sing a song called 'Bless the Broken Road'.

"Every long lost dream led me to where you are. Others who broke my heart they were like Northern stars".

This is my favorite line of the song. It's so inspiring. How often do we refer to our past relationships as "northern stars"? But they are - no matter what they did to you, no matter what you did to them. The pain and rejection were there, but were somehow necessary for you to meet the one God has for you. What an amazing concept. No matter how badly we screw up, God uses it for good, to lead you to the wonderful life He has planned for you.

God, bless my broken road to lead me straight to you.

Yes, You(Read with Caution)

You don't even know. You don't know the size of the mark on her heart that you've left. You don't even care. What do you know about the things she's gone through before you? You didn't take the time to understand the abandonment, the abuse and the hurtful words she's heard - all before you even arrived. You're not aware that all you did was reopen every tear, every cut she's felt in times before you.

You are all the same, or at least that's how it feels after every time ends the same. Every 'good man' is capable of doing the exact horrific and hurtful things as all of the 'bad ones'. Why is that? Why is it that you seem so protective, so caring and so interested and then you rip it away with just a glimpse of security left where you once were? Why invest time at all? Wouldn't it have been easier to have just left her alone? Trust me, she'd have healed from the last wound better if you had never showed up at all. Bitterness and hate grow stronger each time. It's so sad. It's not meant to be this way. You're supposed to be the strong ones. The ones that hold us when we're hurt, that wipe the tears away. All you do is cause them.

Hope is left crumpled in the corner of her heart. It is doctored and nurtured each time someone shows interest, invests time. A bigger chunk is chipped off every time she is let down. She wants to believe that someone is out there, somewhere. So badly. A black cloud covers her path of hope and belief. You are that black cloud. Yes, You. Get out of the way.

Be the man to inspire hope, to nurture it and doctor it. Encourage the women in your life. Be the 'good men' we know exist out there...somewhere. We want to believe it, make it be true. Know that these feelings may be instilled in us because of what we've gone through, and may shape our outlook on life. Don't write us off to be 'man-haters'. Please, don't. There's a reason we are tentative, closed-off, sharp tongued or cynical. They abused us, they hated us, they betrayed us, they used us and most detrimental of all, they left us. Spark hope in her life by not leaving at the first sign of apprehensiveness. Influence trust. Be the reason for her to have faith. Yes, You.

Blinking Alarm Clock

Both of the clocks in my house are still blinking. I'm still inclined to light candles if only for the aroma and slight glow. I really liked writing in candle or lantern light. What it must have been like back in the day. I think I would have thoroughly enjoyed it. A lot. Transportation by horse or carriage, no TV, no internet and honor, dignity and respect being of the utmost importance. Doesn't that sound so appealing? Maybe the power will go out again in the future...I mean, it IS going to snow more....

Cujo is snoring with his head propped on my leg. He is my only company in an otherwise lonely home. I dropped Kris off at the train station on Wednesday afternoon. Her flight to Austria leaves at the butt crack of dawn tomorrow morning. She'll be gone for 7 days getting her fill of snowboarding and brotherly love :) I miss her. We're rarely separated. We live together. I don't like being alone - never have. The thing I hate to do alone most is eat alone. Our men get back tomorrow. Derek, Anthony & Jerrod have been gone recruiting and such. They get back tomorrow and we are itching in anticipation of their return. I wish I could have gone to Southern.

I have no idea what I'm doing next semester. Scratch that. I know what I'd like to be doing, but I don't know where I'll be doing that thing that I like. I want to do Equine Science - I finally decided between that and AHT. Here's the problem: Fresno isn't accepting any new applicants for the Fall semester. Not to say that a little persuasion of the call a ton of times variety will not be implemented. I was really banking on Fresno. I mean, I have every intention of applying to several schools - UC Davis, Colorado, UTK, etc....but I had my sights set on Fresno. They have an incredible Equestrian Team and they have facilities readily available for hands-on labs and classes. I have learned that no matter what I might have planned, God might have a better idea. I have been praying a lot about it and I will continue to do so. Would you mind jumping in and asking God to give me clarity? Thanks.

ESFP

It's been a while.

ESFP. Those letters surprisingly describe me quite accurately. Those letters tell me that I can take criticism or harsh words to the core, that I could consider them a direct defamation of character. Interesting. It's true, isn't it? I'm easily flustered. I know that I'm easily excitable, especially when a heated debate has begun. I'm also fairly sure that this is not necessarily a good trait. But it's one that I own nonetheless. Perhaps I should work on that...

I got an 86 point word the other night in scrabble. QUEST. It was awesome, especially since I was super far behind Ryan. Sweetness.

I miss Thailand. Like, a lot. I miss the simplicity and the joy.

Snow. It should come soon. Soon, as in a couple months. I don't know if I can wait until then. I am going to make a snowman after the first snowfall.

Kris & I are hopefully moving into Black Oak soon. We can't wait.

I'm going home for Christmas. I can't wait to see my mom. And Stephanie. And Bings. Ahhh, Christmas Season, how I've missed you. I can't wait to see your lights, hear your music, and decorate your tree!

I get to see Alex for Thanksgiving. That's so exciting.

This was a fun blog to write.

Clumsy

As a kid, I was constantly sporting skinned knees. I was a skinny little girl and had knobby knees too, so it made it that much worse. If it rained, I always slipped and fell on our rocky sidewalk. If I was at my Grandparent's house, I was bound to fall off the wall they had or fall while running down their driveway, or on a trail in the woods. At my friend Stephanie's house, I tend to trip UP her steps. Yes, I am one of the few capable of tripping up steps, as well as down them. In my defense, her steps are really steep. She still remembers a time when I spilled a whole cup of grape juice all over her kitchen floor after tripping up the last step.
Not many people know that I took ballet for 8 years. I'm not sure I want people knowing that I took ballet, because obviously, I'm not very good at it! Alas, I indeed took ballet from age 3 to age 11. Imagine with me the disasters I would be capable of if I hadn't had lessons in balancing for that long. Anywho, my clumsiness seems to have caught up with me. I have learned to compensate for my clumsiness through the years, by staying loose. If you immediately go rigid if you slip, trip or slide, you(at least I do) fall more. If you roll with it, you might actually make it out with just looking slightly clumsy instead of taking out a whole row of chairs. All of this has worked for me, until now. Now, I spend a large majority of my time in a kitchen. An industrial sized kitchen at that. There are a large number of knives, liquid condiments and hot things that I have to handle on a daily basis. As I sit here typing this, I have mustard on my right sleeve, on my right tennis shoe and down both pant legs. This is the result of a fight that I lost with a mustard dispenser today. I was stepping out of the fridge, and the dispenser slipped out of my hands, mustard landing EVERYWHERE but on the kitchen sink. A couple weeks ago, I did the exact same thing, except with ketchup. I've caught at least 3 potholders on fire since working in the kitchen. I tripped over a garbage can lid last week, thus being the cause of a good hearty laugh from Ryan. I slammed my finger in the freezer door a couple days ago. I dropped the brown sugar container in the cafe, spilling it all over the floor. In short, I'm accident prone. Really, I believe that I am a hazard to have around. Thank goodness these people I work with like me, cause I think I may be homeless(did I mention I can't cook either?)! Thanks for putting up with me and my awesome culinary skills :D Y'all are great!