I dreamt about my biological father last night. It was odd, because I haven't dreamt about him in a while. I felt so many different things in that dream. Feelings I've been suppressing in the waking world.
We had moved into our new apartment, in my dream. And somehow I happened to see my father in a window across the way from my apartment. It was kind of "Rear Window"-esque. I felt like I was staring at him through binoculars. Realizing it was him I practically flew out of my apartment to his. Only to suddenly be in a hotel room.
There he was. As I remember him, a seven year old's image of her father. He is so romanticized in my mind. To me he will always be the handsome man who picked me up off the ground when I fell from the monkey bars and got sand in my eyes. The guy with glasses, and a great mustache, who was constantly filming me and my brother, photographing my mother, even though they were no longer together. The man I adored and thought was amazing, a god with flaws. I wish I could've saved him. I wish we had been enough.
There he was. My father. In that moment I felt a surge of love for him. With a small aftertaste of hate and realization. He hugged me. I told him I was getting married. He cried. I cried. I told him how much I had missed him. How much I wish I had never sent that letter. Never said the things I said. He forgave me. I forgave him. He was going to do the one thing I've always wanted. He was going to give me away at the ceremony for my wedding. He was going to dance with me, that father daughter dance that I'll never actually have.
I think part of my subconscious realized this was a dream, because I felt a surge of pain. A trembling in my chin, that trembling that always preludes a gut-wrenching cry fest.
He told me that he had been released. Released from the drugs, prison, etc. He was a free man and he was going to be there for me. He offered to help pay for the wedding. He offered to help in any way he could.
Then he disappeared. In a split-second I was talking to my mother. Telling her the good news. Telling her how excited I was. About the crying that we did. About the hug and the forgiveness. Then she tells me that he had lied. That he had escaped from prison, not been released. That he was on the run. Now he would never be able to do what he had said he would. Now he could never fulfill his promises. He would spend his life running. From the addictions, from the law, from his empty promises and his guilt. I truly believe he feels guilty.
And I felt that moment of realization again. The moment when I realized that he would never be able to keep his promises. Just like when I was seven and I made him promise he wouldn't do drugs anymore. And he promised. I think he meant to keep it. I'd like to think he really tried. I'd like to believe that he loved me enough to give it a valiant effort. But what am I compared to methamphetamine? What am I compared to cocaine and heroin?
I've never been so heartbroken upon waking from a dream. I have a damaged relationship with a father I've always worshiped and no real way to fix it. I think, as little girls, all daughters have this kind of romance with their fathers. Not the sexual kind of romance you find in smut novels or internet porn. Not a romance in the traditional sense. We have a love for our fathers that is so deep that it colors our entire outlook on men.
Our father is our first introduction to the world of men. He is our first husband, our first boyfriend. He is our first guy friend, our first impression. We romanticize him, even if we never knew him. Even if we have a bad relationship. Because in many ways we want him to be wonderful. It gives us hope for other men if our father is a good man.
I see the similarities between my father and my ex-boyfriend. I see the parallels between my relationship and my father's relationship with my mother. I see the parallels with my current relationship. I see the parallels with all my male interactions. I have always been so desperate for a man to love me. I have always been so afraid of the men around me. Not because my father abused me, but because I always felt like he abandoned me. Like he never truly loved me. How could any man love me if my own father could not? I wanted that love from my father that I never fully received. It is a terrible loss to me. An awful waste.
I hated him. I hated him for so long. I only called him by his first name. Or didn't speak of him at all. I tore him off of a pedestal and threw him to the ground. A displaced god in my personal garden of hell. The more I hated him, the more I loved him without even trying. I tried to justify his actions to myself, I still do sometimes. I tried to place him back on the pedestal the prodigal god returned to his rightful place of honor. Waged a whole war with myself. All for what?
When I woke up I felt raw. Tender to the touch, like a still healing scrape. Even now I feel hurt. As my wedding draws closer all I keep trying to not think about is that moment when the judge (or the pastor or whomever) says "Who gives this woman to be wed?" The moment when it will be only my mother standing there beside me. When my father will not be there to say "Her mother and I." When the music begins playing at the reception and there is no father for me to dance with.
I've never been so sad to wake up.
Monday, August 15, 2011
The Stars are in My Eyes
When I was living in an actual house, before we lost it, we had an International Music Video channel that we watched a lot. One of the songs that I loved listening to/watching was "Starz in their Eyes" by Just Jack from the UK. The reason I liked it (and still do) is because it is very honest. It is a rather accurate portrayal of the rise and fall of musicians, actors, famous people in general. Plus, he is fun to listen to.
For your entertainment, Just Jack (Ha ha "Will and Grace") "Starz in their Eyes"
For your entertainment, Just Jack (Ha ha "Will and Grace") "Starz in their Eyes"
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Dancing in My Chair
Sometimes, at random moments, I will passionately miss the 90's. As in the decade, the 1990's. Seriously, I don't know why. The 90's had some horrible fashion trends and some less than good music, but it was my childhood and I embrace that.
Its at these moments that I go back to the music I listened to, or discovered in the 90's. Or I watch some clips from my favorite shows. Or I sit and just dance in my chair to the music I loved (when I could listen to it that is, a certain man [who shall remain nameless] forbade the listening of certain music that wasn't Christian). I listen to 90's pop, Christian music, Michael Jackson, Celine Dion and Whitney Houston. I think about Doug, the Rugrats, All That, Wishbone, Are You Afraid of the Dark and Cousin Skeeter. I read excerpts from "Saddle Club", "The Boxcar Children" and "Goosebumps" (which I didn't read until I was in my late teens).
And sometimes, because I'm rediscovering my childhood, I discover new music and I fall in love with a decade when everything seemed so much more simple! At least to me. Do you remember when Britney was at the top of her game? Songs like "Lucky" and "Oops I did it Again"? Or "Big Butts"? We were the Nintendo players, the Mariah Carey lovers, the believers of Aliens and Y2K. We wore high tops and had crew cut hair. We were insane and believed in so much, hoped for so much.
I miss those times. I really do. I don't know why, because the 90's had its downsides too. Like any decade. Like any day. Like any life. But the 90's was my childhood. When I went swimming with my Aunt Carmen all summer. Or cleaned house with my Aunt Peggy, who would let me spend the night and watch Mork & Mindy in between homeschooling lessons.
I miss getting cappuccino for the first time and discovering how delicious it was. I miss running through the woods and pretending it was Narnia. I miss discovering "The Yellow Submarine" with my brother and all the movies my mom introduced us to. I miss falling asleep to Simon & Garfunkel at night and dancing with Hannah to Loggins & Messina. The 90's was my playground, my perfect time. My biggest worries were the boys I was crushing on and Y2K (which everyone was afraid of).
For New Year's Chris and I would stay up until midnight watching "Much Ado About Nothing" and "Henry V" with our family friend, Ivan, while eating pizza and teasing Ivan when he would cover his eyes during the bloody parts. We went to the Egyptian exhibit at the Children's Museum and rode our bikes up and down the gravel roads.
My mother taught me to read, inspired me to write, inspired a love of literature and writing, of exploring everything. She taught me that every moment is a learning moment.
I played with Hannah, my baby sister. She looked like Shirley Temple at 2. I took her outside and chased her all over the yard. At night she would kick me out of bed, even though she was 2 and I was 10. As a baby, I would feed her cheerios in her bouncy seat and sing her Simon & Garfunkel songs as lullabies. I would read books about Sacajawea and Sesame Street. She was my first experience with a baby (when I would've been old enough to understand it). And, in a way, she was my baby. I protected her, I dressed her up, I changed her diapers and fed her. I played dolls with her. And I failed her in many ways. And, in many ways, she is still my baby, even though she is 15 now.
Chris and I would race our bikes, try stupid stunts (like tying Chris to the back of my bike to help him run faster and "lose weight") and chopping wood. We chopped a lot of wood, fed and watered a lot of dogs. I forced him to play Barbie dolls with me and he drove me up a wall. We dressed up, we fought, we forgave each other and he is one of my best friends to this day.
I met my best friend, Sarah W., a friendship that has lasted us 13 years this year. We used to talk on the phone for hours and hours. We watched "Pocahontas" over the phone, because we didn't get to hang out in real life as often as we wished. We played Gordon Lightfoot as loud as possible and scream-sang along. We picked berries and ate them all, while sitting in a field of green and white. We played Legos and made up stories. We ran wild, wrote notes in our own secret language during church. She helped me fall in love with snakes. I helped her fall in love with Star Wars.
I believed in Jesus with all my heart. Believed there was some reason for all the pain, for all hard times. For all the deaths and the lies. The 1990's were beautiful to me, even though I had a step-father who abused my brother and my mother almost died on our bathroom floor. Even though I was sexually abused. Even though my grandparents died. Even though it was the last time I saw my father in person. The last I spoke to him on the phone. The last letter I received. I believed that a good and just God was going to make it all right. That He was polishing me like how a gem is polished with stones.
I wanted to be a doctor. I wanted to deliver babies in China, stop the abortions from happening. Protect the innocent. I wanted to be an actress and star in the movies I had seen. I wanted to be a writer. I wanted to be a civil rights activist. I wanted to be free. Dream my dreams, live my life. I wanted to be married and have 16 children that I would home-school. I wanted to be a missionary. I wanted to be loved.
Do any of those childhood dreams still hold sway? Can they still exist now that I'm older, wiser, and I know all that I know?
For your viewing pleasure, a song from the 1990's that I used to dance to, alone in my room.
That's right, "Livin' La Vida Loca" by Ricky Martin. And yes, I am that dorky.
Its at these moments that I go back to the music I listened to, or discovered in the 90's. Or I watch some clips from my favorite shows. Or I sit and just dance in my chair to the music I loved (when I could listen to it that is, a certain man [who shall remain nameless] forbade the listening of certain music that wasn't Christian). I listen to 90's pop, Christian music, Michael Jackson, Celine Dion and Whitney Houston. I think about Doug, the Rugrats, All That, Wishbone, Are You Afraid of the Dark and Cousin Skeeter. I read excerpts from "Saddle Club", "The Boxcar Children" and "Goosebumps" (which I didn't read until I was in my late teens).
And sometimes, because I'm rediscovering my childhood, I discover new music and I fall in love with a decade when everything seemed so much more simple! At least to me. Do you remember when Britney was at the top of her game? Songs like "Lucky" and "Oops I did it Again"? Or "Big Butts"? We were the Nintendo players, the Mariah Carey lovers, the believers of Aliens and Y2K. We wore high tops and had crew cut hair. We were insane and believed in so much, hoped for so much.
I miss those times. I really do. I don't know why, because the 90's had its downsides too. Like any decade. Like any day. Like any life. But the 90's was my childhood. When I went swimming with my Aunt Carmen all summer. Or cleaned house with my Aunt Peggy, who would let me spend the night and watch Mork & Mindy in between homeschooling lessons.
I miss getting cappuccino for the first time and discovering how delicious it was. I miss running through the woods and pretending it was Narnia. I miss discovering "The Yellow Submarine" with my brother and all the movies my mom introduced us to. I miss falling asleep to Simon & Garfunkel at night and dancing with Hannah to Loggins & Messina. The 90's was my playground, my perfect time. My biggest worries were the boys I was crushing on and Y2K (which everyone was afraid of).
For New Year's Chris and I would stay up until midnight watching "Much Ado About Nothing" and "Henry V" with our family friend, Ivan, while eating pizza and teasing Ivan when he would cover his eyes during the bloody parts. We went to the Egyptian exhibit at the Children's Museum and rode our bikes up and down the gravel roads.
My mother taught me to read, inspired me to write, inspired a love of literature and writing, of exploring everything. She taught me that every moment is a learning moment.
I played with Hannah, my baby sister. She looked like Shirley Temple at 2. I took her outside and chased her all over the yard. At night she would kick me out of bed, even though she was 2 and I was 10. As a baby, I would feed her cheerios in her bouncy seat and sing her Simon & Garfunkel songs as lullabies. I would read books about Sacajawea and Sesame Street. She was my first experience with a baby (when I would've been old enough to understand it). And, in a way, she was my baby. I protected her, I dressed her up, I changed her diapers and fed her. I played dolls with her. And I failed her in many ways. And, in many ways, she is still my baby, even though she is 15 now.
Chris and I would race our bikes, try stupid stunts (like tying Chris to the back of my bike to help him run faster and "lose weight") and chopping wood. We chopped a lot of wood, fed and watered a lot of dogs. I forced him to play Barbie dolls with me and he drove me up a wall. We dressed up, we fought, we forgave each other and he is one of my best friends to this day.
I met my best friend, Sarah W., a friendship that has lasted us 13 years this year. We used to talk on the phone for hours and hours. We watched "Pocahontas" over the phone, because we didn't get to hang out in real life as often as we wished. We played Gordon Lightfoot as loud as possible and scream-sang along. We picked berries and ate them all, while sitting in a field of green and white. We played Legos and made up stories. We ran wild, wrote notes in our own secret language during church. She helped me fall in love with snakes. I helped her fall in love with Star Wars.
I believed in Jesus with all my heart. Believed there was some reason for all the pain, for all hard times. For all the deaths and the lies. The 1990's were beautiful to me, even though I had a step-father who abused my brother and my mother almost died on our bathroom floor. Even though I was sexually abused. Even though my grandparents died. Even though it was the last time I saw my father in person. The last I spoke to him on the phone. The last letter I received. I believed that a good and just God was going to make it all right. That He was polishing me like how a gem is polished with stones.
I wanted to be a doctor. I wanted to deliver babies in China, stop the abortions from happening. Protect the innocent. I wanted to be an actress and star in the movies I had seen. I wanted to be a writer. I wanted to be a civil rights activist. I wanted to be free. Dream my dreams, live my life. I wanted to be married and have 16 children that I would home-school. I wanted to be a missionary. I wanted to be loved.
Do any of those childhood dreams still hold sway? Can they still exist now that I'm older, wiser, and I know all that I know?
For your viewing pleasure, a song from the 1990's that I used to dance to, alone in my room.
That's right, "Livin' La Vida Loca" by Ricky Martin. And yes, I am that dorky.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Sarai's Crazy Texts
My friends and I have some very odd conversations, text wise. Some we have in person, but they aren't always as hilarious. So, for your viewing pleasure here are some of the crazy texts my friends and I have had.
Me: Communist.
11:27PM Thu, 13 January
My Brother: Liberal :P
12:27AM Fri, 14 January
~
K: You only get married once (hypothetically) lol. If a wedding isn't something that is important to you, I say go for it. BUT!!! If even a fraction of you wants a wedding, big or small, I would wait. You could end up resenting your spouse later on, ruining your marriage and causing you to join the circus. I've seen it a hundred times. Also: I happen to be a great wedding singer. I do all Whitney Houston songs, and my rate is low.
12:23PM Thu, 14 July
Me: Well the thinking is that we get married @ the courthouse, then save for a real wedding later on. Also, joining the circus doesn't seem so bad.
12:29PM Thu, 14 July
Me: You are a wedding singer?
12:30PM
K: Ahhh well that doesn't sound too bad. Provided you're ready to be married. Never rush into a decision you have your entire life to make. Am I a wedding singer?
Inside: yes.
Professionally: no.
Your wedding would be my debut.
12:36PM
Me: Whitney Houston is your specialty? I don't think we are rushing. We will have been together 3 years by our chosen wedding date. We've been engaged a year.
12:45PM
K: Yes. I feel like Whitney really gets me. Then I say go for it! Just remember to send me an invitation!
12:48PM
Me: You're wanting to sing at the Monroe County Courthouse on September 1st? Lol.
12:51PM
K: No no.. At a real wedding.
1:03PM
Me: Lol. I know, I was teasing. I will send you an invite someday. I am sure that you will receive many invitations to sing after your debut.
1:07PM
K: Thats a given.
1:08PM
~
Phil: Hi parch i mean sarai
9:00PM Thu, 13 January
~
Me: Are you working tomorrow?
1:29PM Thu, 14 July
K: Yessum.
1:29PM
Me: I work as well. 2 - 6. POS in fact. I am taking a shift for H. Is he okay? He has been acting strangely. He seemed really down yesterday.
1:33PM
K: No idea. He was over here the other night. Maybe he's pregnant.
1:33PM
Me: That's true. He has been eating a lot of pickles and ice cream.
1:34PM
~
Phil: chicken butt sex!!! omg!
2:15PM Sat, 29 January
~
K: What is her number again?
10:09PM Wed, 10 August
Me: Why do you always lose her number?
10:55PM Wed, 10 August
K: Hahaha i just never save it.
11:13PM
Me: Silly goose.
11:14PM
K: If I am a bird, I would be an owl. Or an eagle. Or a wolf!!! Muahahaha!
11:19PM
Me: Wolves are not birds!
11:20PM
K: I know.. I got carried away.
11:21PM
Me: Noticed. At least you aren't an acid spraying honey badger?
11:23PM
K: Indeed. Badgers are rude.
11:27PM
Me: Quite.
11:29PM
~
Phil: Anything exciting happening today?
2:00PM Sun, 13 February
Me: The entire state decided to divorce Illinois and move back to live with its mother Montana. Other than that no.
2:04PM Sun, 13 February
~
Fawn: The highlight of my night. Trent reading porn titles off the TV. We are laughing hysterically...
12:36AM Tue, 29 March
~
K: Twainism is a religion I would follow without hesitation.
8:31 PM Mon, 02 May
~
Zach: God, your such a tease:p
10:50PM Fri, 03 June
~
Me: K. I am drunk texting you. Lol
10:40PM Fri, 15 April
Me: I love alcohol. Tee hee
10:48PM
K: I love you.
10:54PM
~
SJ: Hows it hanging ?
9:55PM Wed, 09 March
Me: Free and happy?
9:56PM Wed, 09 March
SJ: Lol tell donny I said to put some pants on
9:56PM
Me: Communist.
11:27PM Thu, 13 January
My Brother: Liberal :P
12:27AM Fri, 14 January
~
K: You only get married once (hypothetically) lol. If a wedding isn't something that is important to you, I say go for it. BUT!!! If even a fraction of you wants a wedding, big or small, I would wait. You could end up resenting your spouse later on, ruining your marriage and causing you to join the circus. I've seen it a hundred times. Also: I happen to be a great wedding singer. I do all Whitney Houston songs, and my rate is low.
12:23PM Thu, 14 July
Me: Well the thinking is that we get married @ the courthouse, then save for a real wedding later on. Also, joining the circus doesn't seem so bad.
12:29PM Thu, 14 July
Me: You are a wedding singer?
12:30PM
K: Ahhh well that doesn't sound too bad. Provided you're ready to be married. Never rush into a decision you have your entire life to make. Am I a wedding singer?
Inside: yes.
Professionally: no.
Your wedding would be my debut.
12:36PM
Me: Whitney Houston is your specialty? I don't think we are rushing. We will have been together 3 years by our chosen wedding date. We've been engaged a year.
12:45PM
K: Yes. I feel like Whitney really gets me. Then I say go for it! Just remember to send me an invitation!
12:48PM
Me: You're wanting to sing at the Monroe County Courthouse on September 1st? Lol.
12:51PM
K: No no.. At a real wedding.
1:03PM
Me: Lol. I know, I was teasing. I will send you an invite someday. I am sure that you will receive many invitations to sing after your debut.
1:07PM
K: Thats a given.
1:08PM
~
Phil: Hi parch i mean sarai
9:00PM Thu, 13 January
~
Me: Are you working tomorrow?
1:29PM Thu, 14 July
K: Yessum.
1:29PM
Me: I work as well. 2 - 6. POS in fact. I am taking a shift for H. Is he okay? He has been acting strangely. He seemed really down yesterday.
1:33PM
K: No idea. He was over here the other night. Maybe he's pregnant.
1:33PM
Me: That's true. He has been eating a lot of pickles and ice cream.
1:34PM
~
Phil: chicken butt sex!!! omg!
2:15PM Sat, 29 January
~
K: What is her number again?
10:09PM Wed, 10 August
Me: Why do you always lose her number?
10:55PM Wed, 10 August
K: Hahaha i just never save it.
11:13PM
Me: Silly goose.
11:14PM
K: If I am a bird, I would be an owl. Or an eagle. Or a wolf!!! Muahahaha!
11:19PM
Me: Wolves are not birds!
11:20PM
K: I know.. I got carried away.
11:21PM
Me: Noticed. At least you aren't an acid spraying honey badger?
11:23PM
K: Indeed. Badgers are rude.
11:27PM
Me: Quite.
11:29PM
~
Phil: Anything exciting happening today?
2:00PM Sun, 13 February
Me: The entire state decided to divorce Illinois and move back to live with its mother Montana. Other than that no.
2:04PM Sun, 13 February
~
Fawn: The highlight of my night. Trent reading porn titles off the TV. We are laughing hysterically...
12:36AM Tue, 29 March
~
K: Twainism is a religion I would follow without hesitation.
8:31 PM Mon, 02 May
~
Zach: God, your such a tease:p
10:50PM Fri, 03 June
~
Me: K. I am drunk texting you. Lol
10:40PM Fri, 15 April
Me: I love alcohol. Tee hee
10:48PM
K: I love you.
10:54PM
~
SJ: Hows it hanging ?
9:55PM Wed, 09 March
Me: Free and happy?
9:56PM Wed, 09 March
SJ: Lol tell donny I said to put some pants on
9:56PM
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Searching through...
Whilst searching through blogs here on Blogger, I discovered this one particular blog (through yet another blog) called "White and Delightsome." This blog is dedicated to "Awkward and peculiar Mormon erotica." I'm so not joking! There is literally this woman who posts blogs revolving around Mormon Erotica. Holy snickerdoodles, Batman!
I read the first few blogs and realized that my life hadn't been complete up until now. I never knew something this hilarious could ever exist!! Not only is it over the top writing (everything I read was filled with "heaving bosoms"), but it is hilarious with all kinds of references to the Mormon church and its leadership.
Also, there is definitely a reference to a rather racist view the Mormons have, though she doesn't say it overtly. It doesn't take much to realize the connection there.
"White and Delightsome."
"The Way a Woman should Be." Apparently women are only supposed to be White and "Delightsome", whatever the hell that means. I think she meant Delightful.
So here you are, the link to this gloriously hilarious and awkward blog involving sex and Mormons.
http://whiteanddelightsome.com/
This really makes me think of "Orgazmo", a 1997 movie that Fawn forced me to watch when I lived with her a couple years ago. Rather than try and explain it to you, here is the trailer for this wonderful movie about Mormons and Porn.
STUNT COCK!!
I read the first few blogs and realized that my life hadn't been complete up until now. I never knew something this hilarious could ever exist!! Not only is it over the top writing (everything I read was filled with "heaving bosoms"), but it is hilarious with all kinds of references to the Mormon church and its leadership.
Also, there is definitely a reference to a rather racist view the Mormons have, though she doesn't say it overtly. It doesn't take much to realize the connection there.
"White and Delightsome."
"The Way a Woman should Be." Apparently women are only supposed to be White and "Delightsome", whatever the hell that means. I think she meant Delightful.
So here you are, the link to this gloriously hilarious and awkward blog involving sex and Mormons.
http://whiteanddelightsome.com/
This really makes me think of "Orgazmo", a 1997 movie that Fawn forced me to watch when I lived with her a couple years ago. Rather than try and explain it to you, here is the trailer for this wonderful movie about Mormons and Porn.
STUNT COCK!!
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