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Monday, 09 November 2009

  • See what trouble we could both cause
    By the bedroom door, the kitchen floor.

    Aaron will be mad at me if he sees what day and time I wrote this but my lack of breathing abilities and Van's constant tantrums have a direct correlation to my current lack of sleeping abilities.
    In other words.
    I HATE STUFFY NOSES and MY BABY CRIES A LOT.

    Today I brought Mr.Freeman pictures my parents took many years ago at our old house when we found two slugs having sex on the outside wall. "I thought you might be interested in seeing this." He gave me a face. "It's kind of disgusting..." "Yeah... And it's kind of awesome!"
    I will cry when I graduate. Because of that man and nearly nothing else.
    I hope I get a hug and a picture... He has no idea how much he's meant to me.
    This is starting to sound creepy.
    I'll stop it here.

    Anyway. Hah.


    If I cared about other people, I'd delete this entire xanga.
    I guess I understand where they come from. But, you know, it's kinda like politics on a bitchy high school girl level. Because I feel like I'm just saying what my brain cells are processing. And I feel like I do a pretty good job at clarifying when something is fact or simply word of mouth. And I feel like I'm pretty nice in the fact that I usually generalize as opposed to pointing fingers at specifics. And, ultimately, I feel everyone who reads this who may be offended shouldn't be offended because I  wouldn't be offended if someone were talking about me in the same fashion that I talk about them. You know, the Golden Rule. Treat others the way you want to be treated.
    The issue comes in when people don't see what very precise manner I word things and my reasoning for doing so. And so my particular way of blogging about my thoughts and opinions is manipulated into "talking shit" and "starting drama".

    It's a pity I blame their illiteracy and not the fact that I am, quite possibly, a drama hungry superbitch from the planet Attentiopia. Then again, living in South Carolina of all states, the first one appears much more believable.

    Today I was told that I am wasting my time by bitching about everything and everyone.
    I do this for almost therapeutic reasons. It's like cleaning a bedroom or throwing old clothes into a box for Good Will. I get stressed out when I have too many thoughts wasting away in my skull. I need to do some Spring cleaning after everything piles up... Only it's more of a daily ritual than annual. A clogged Charlotte brain is a loud Charlotte mouth and the obvious lack of a Charlotte smile. None of which are good things.
    So, all in all, if anyone is wasting their time by my bitching about everything and everyone, it's my readers.

    [At least they're literate enough to get what I'm saying, hah.]

    But, yeah.
    I'll go try that sleeping thing again.

Friday, 06 November 2009

  • And that day,
    I found who I was.

    No wonder teenage moms are scuffed at.
    I like to think I'm better than them, and I probably shouldn't. Though I'm rather proud of the fact that I have never smoked, slept around, done drugs, or gotten wasted, I'm even more proud of the fact that I never did any of those during or after my pregnancy. And I can't help but feel anger towards the ones that do. Because, while it's not my baby or my life or anything I can rightfully "judge"..... It's a child. It's THEIR child. Asking someone to take care of your baby for a while so you can relax, spend time with friends, sleep, cool off, etc. is one thing. Publicly going on and on about how badly you want to get shit faced drunk and go buy cigarettes just seems... Wrong.
    And maybe I'm the wrong one for feeling they're being bad parents. For putting themselves before their child in such selfish, degrading ways. Whatever the case....
    Van will never see his mother drunk.
    That's a promise.

    Anyway.

    Everyone over the age of eleven is annoying as hell and I hate them all.
    There are specific people in my life who I am beginning to dislike more and more with every moment I spend around them. With age comes realization. People tell me more, ultimately leading to liking them less. And it's not a personal reason. It's outward looking. It's me pulling myself out, forgetting the connections, and noticing just how fucking stupid they really are.
    You are so fucking stupid.

    I wish Mr.Freeman were my father and Mrs.Dunlap my mom. I feel like they are.
    Mr.Freeman reintroduced me to my childhood self. The one that would do anything to know more about an animal. The one that liked to learn things just to learn things, then later randomly bring them up in conversation just to remind myself that I learned it. The one that laughed and smiled and enjoyed life with just that. The one that lived for science, knowledge... The one that couldn't care less about being a human and constantly wondered what it'd be like to have a fish brain. I love him.
    Mrs.Dunlap reintroduced me to myself now. Keep your morals straight but do what you want. Go to parties without the partying. She's the kind of mom that I want to be. She's careless and fun and smart and knows what she is and who she wants to put herself out as. She puts trust first, the benefit of the doubt for the sake of fun, and doesn't punish until she really has a reason to. She knows stupidity when she sees it and plasters a huge sign over it with a smile on her face. She is honest and brutal and fucking amazing. I love her.
    Mr.Freeman and Mrs.Dunlap aren't over the age of eleven. They haven't grown up and I will shoot myself if they ever do.

    That's just it.
    Growing up is a fucking joke.

    When I was little, the grown ups were the ones having babies, smoking, making rules, looking professional, paper chasing, fucking around, starting drama, telling lies, getting drunk, marrying and divorcing.... They never smiled. They never played. They never shared. They never told the truth. They never stayed sober. They never knew life.
    All the teenagers doing drugs, getting drunk, fucking everything that moves, buying cigarettes, getting into car wrecks, cheating on their significant others, getting jobs, stealing, fighting... They do these things because they think they're grown up. Because that's what people do in the "real world". Because that's what all the other adults we saw when we were immature did. Because that's what little kids didn't do. These are the things parents covered our eyes and ears to during the R rated movies. So once our age permits, we grow up. And all the "real" adults keep saying these teens are pretending to be grown up when.... No. They're not. They're being what YOU taught them to be. Whether it was direct or not, this is the adulthood they see and the adulthood they will portray until the very second they stop existing. Having sex, obsessing over money, wanting to do drugs, cussing like sailors... This is what we have been taught are the grown up things to do. So, once you tell us to grow up, this is all we know to do.

    So, fuck every person who ever told me to stop being a child.
    I'd rather share, smile, laugh, play, enjoy simple things, learn, be honest, and not care about anything but keeping myself and the people around me happy than lie, cheat, drink, sleep around, beat around the bush, push for a proper image, keep for myself, stress, and fight.
    I'd rather my son grow up with an honest, excited mother than a scheming, stressed bitch.

    Forget Van never seeing his mother drunk.
    I will never grow up. And THAT is my promise.




    "Adults are just obsolete children, and to hell with them!"
                                                        -Dr.Seuss.

xComax

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