People Are Cowards

Yup, I finally figured it out. People are cowards. It's odd how their cowardess is shown though. For example; someone might not have a problem running into a burning building to save a stranger’s life, yet they're too scared to tell the girl they were supposedly interested in that they're not interested anymore, and instead will string them along. Cowards.

Then there are those people that are too afraid to speak their mind because they're worried about how others will perceive them. They want to be liked, feel accepted. They will go along with the "gang mentality", if you will. It's a heuristical error. Instead of making decisions on their own, and possibly being wrong, people will agree with what others say because then the whole group would be wrong and the blame can be passed around. It’s easier than being the one “wrong” person. I'm not like that. I'm finding that I'm becoming more of a risk taker. I say what I feel and if you don't like it, well sucks for you. I'm not in high school anymore. I'm not into cliques; never have been. People want to say that I'm not being a good friend because I thought something was funny, well then they just don't know me at all. I challenge you to find one person that I know IRL to tell you that I'm a bad friend. It’s just not going to happen. I am one of the most loyal people you will ever meet. Will I call you out on your shit? Hell yes. Why? Because that’s what friends, true friends, do. They don’t blow smoke up your ass and tell you everything is all peaches when it’s not.

Well, let's look at this for a second. What makes a person a good or bad friend? It's all subjective, I know, but in my opinion, a good friend is not someone who will always agree with you and always take your side. I know, doesn't make much sense to most people, but if I'm wrong, I don't want someone to back me up insisting that I must be right. How in the world is that supposed to help me? It’s like, “hey, I know you’ve been talking shit about someone, but I’ll still back you up even though I think you’re wrong.” No, a good friend will call me out and let me know when I'm wrong. They will let me know when I’ve crossed the line. They will be honest. A true friend will tell me when I'm being an idiot. A true friend is not a "yes man". Also, a true friend is not going to ignore one friend's indiscretions and yet punish another for something much more minor. That's not a friend, that's someone who's looking for a fight. You wanna sit here and call me out because I laughed at something, fine, then you better be calling out all the other people that, instead of just laughing at a comment, actually wrote scathing reviews about the person you were defending. Oh, but people can look past that, right? It’s ok, she’s a friend, she can say that. Laugh about someone’s comment who is our enemy – oh, hell no. You’re done. Yeah. Loyal my ass.

At the end of the day, it comes down to this: I will laugh at whatever the fuck I want to laugh at. I will agree with whatever the fuck I want to agree with. I will disagree with whatever the fuck I want to disagree with. Sensing a pattern here? I am my own person, with my own thoughts and opinions, and if you don’t like it, if my being an individual doesn’t mesh with your view of how the world should be, then you can go suck a toad. I’m not putting up with anyone’s shit anymore. Fuck that.

Enough with the Damn Games!!!

Here's a little piece of advice for all you guys out there - most women appreciate honesty. If you're just not into her, let her know. If you were only using her for sex, don't lead her on to think that it was something else. Don't sit here and tell her that, yeah you can't wait to see her again, and then come up with excuses as to why you can't make plans. Don't pull that, yeah you're my girl, then not call or text. Get rid of the damn expectation that women are the ones that should initiate all conversations. Don't sit here and say that you have no feelings for someone and then get all pissy when they're talking to someone else. Try some FUCKING HONESTY for once in your MISERABLY PATHETIC FUCKING LIVES!!! Ok - well obviously that last part isn't for all guys, just for certain people.

My God, do people just not care about how their actions effect others? Do they think that they can play these damn games and that no one will get hurt? It's not fair to the people out there that are actually looking for someone to be with. I just don't fucking get it. Everything is all fine and dandy and then one day, BAM, communication is out the window. Why, because I was interested and you think you have it in the bag? WTF???

Can someone please explain the thought process behind that? Why pretend that you like someone and then not talk to them? It truly boggles the mind.

Song of the Day

"Realize" - Colby Caillat

Take time to realize,
That your warmth is
Crashing down on in.
Take time to realize,
That I am on your side
Didn't I, Didn't I tell you.

But I can't spell it out for you,
No it's never gonna be that simple
No I cant spell it out for you

If you just realize what I just realized,
Then we'd be perfect for each other
and will never find another
Just realized what I just realized
we'd never have to wonder if
we missed out on each other now.

Take time to realize
Oh-oh I'm on your side
didn't I, didn't I tell you.
Take time to realize
This all can pass you by
Didn't I tell you

But I can't spell it out for you,
no it's never gonna be that simple
no I can't spell it out for you.

If you just realized what I just realized
then we'd be perfect for each other
then we'd never find another
Just realized what I just realized
we'd never have to wonder if
we missed out on each other now.

It's not always the same
no it's never the same
if you don't feel it too.
If you meet me half way
If you would meet me half way.
It could be the same for you.

If you just realize what I just realized
then we'd be perfect for each other
then we'd never find another
Just realize what I just realized
we'd never have to wonder
Just realize what I just realized

If you just realize what I just realized

OoOoOOo

missed out on each other now
missed out on each other now
Realize, realize

realize, realize

Distance Sucks

I miss him already. It totally sucks. I had an amazing dream about him last night, woke up, and was totally bummed because he's 2 hours away from me. It makes me so sad to think that I can't see him every day. I suppose in a way that's good because we can make sure that we have a solid relationship and we will know for certain that it's not built purely on sex. Although I really want to jump his bones, I mean, y'all saw that picture, right? Giggity :)

We didn't get to talk too much last night because we both had class (He's in school to be a paramedic, did I mention that?) I just hope I can see him on the 21st. I'm a very affectionate person, so this is killing me. All I can think about is how great it felt to have his arms around me, how great his kisses are... yeah, I'm in trouble.

Giggity...

I met the firefighter this weekend. Oh...my...God!!! First of all, his FB picture just does not do him justice. He is just so incredibly good looking. I was speechless! Thank goodness my friend was there to do the talking when we met because I just could not form a single thought. After a few minutes I finally said Hi and we did the hug thing and whatnot. :)

He had his son with him when we first met up, and from what I saw he's a great father. I'm sure L and his son will have fun playing together. We all took a walk by the lake and it was really nice. I wasn't myself at all. Normally I can talk someones ear off, but I was just so nervous, it was wierd.

We met up later on at a bar and I was a little bit more comfortable. I had a beer and the football game was on, so I was more at ease. He had some beers and got a little more loose as well (I cut myself off at 2 drinks, I was not going to get out of control.) There was some kissing and whatnot, then we ended up going to another bar, and I drove his truck since he had been drinking. Seriously, when you need a step to get into your truck, it might be too big, but apparently that's the norm there.

Um, so yeah, I ended up driving him home and we spent the night together. It was so nice falling asleep in his arms. Heaven. :) I was well behaved though. He actually told me, you're gonna have to deal with just sleeping next to me tonight and not with me until we get to know each other more. Yeah, nothing like the boys from down here! It was just amazing. :) He was also like, so does this make us bf/gf, and I asked, well what do you think, and he's like, yeah, you're my girl. When we woke up I asked if I was still his girl (to make sure it wasn't the alcohol talking), and he said yes.

I was so bummed when I had to come back home. I miss him so much already! I won't get to see him again until the 21st. It's seriously unreal how much I like him.

To Write Love On Her Arms

This is the backstory to one of the charities I support, taken from their website www.twloha.com. I'm posting this because this is the time of year when most people feel they are at their worse. Especially with the way the economy is going, people have turned to drugs and alcohol to help with their problems... there is other help out there. No one should be ashamed or embarassed to ask for help. This is a great charity to support - you can give donations or purchase shirts/bags/books from them. Remember, "Love is the Movement"...

"Pedro the Lion is loud in the speakers, and the city waits just outside our open windows. She sits and sings, legs crossed in the passenger seat, her pretty voice hiding in the volume. Music is a safe place and Pedro is her favorite. It hits me that she won't see this skyline for several weeks, and we will be without her. I lean forward, knowing this will be written, and I ask what she'd say if her story had an audience. She smiles. "Tell them to look up. Tell them to remember the stars."

I would rather write her a song, because songs don't wait to resolve, and because songs mean so much to her. Stories wait for endings, but songs are brave things bold enough to sing when all they know is darkness. These words, like most words, will be written next to midnight, between hurricane and harbor, as both claim to save her.

Renee is 19. When I meet her, cocaine is fresh in her system. She hasn't slept in 36 hours and she won't for another 24. It is a familiar blur of coke, pot, pills and alcohol. She has agreed to meet us, to listen and to let us pray. We ask Renee to come with us, to leave this broken night. She says she'll go to rehab tomorrow, but she isn't ready now. It is too great a change. We pray and say goodbye and it is hard to leave without her.

She has known such great pain; haunted dreams as a child, the near-constant presence of evil ever since. She has felt the touch of awful naked men, battled depression and addiction, and attempted suicide. Her arms remember razor blades, fifty scars that speak of self-inflicted wounds. Six hours after I meet her, she is feeling trapped, two groups of "friends" offering opposite ideas. Everyone is asleep. The sun is rising. She drinks long from a bottle of liquor, takes a razor blade from the table and locks herself in the bathroom. She cuts herself, using the blade to write "FUCK UP" large across her left forearm.

The nurse at the treatment center finds the wound several hours later. The center has no detox, names her too great a risk, and does not accept her. For the next five days, she is ours to love. We become her hospital and the possibility of healing fills our living room with life. It is unspoken and there are only a few of us, but we will be her church, the body of Christ coming alive to meet her needs, to write love on her arms.

She is full of contrast, more alive and closer to death than anyone I've known, like a Johnny Cash song or some theatre star. She owns attitude and humor beyond her 19 years, and when she tells me her story, she is humble and quiet and kind, shaped by the pain of a hundred lifetimes. I sit privileged but breaking as she shares. Her life has been so dark yet there is some soft hope in her words, and on consecutive evenings, I watch the prettiest girls in the room tell her that she's beautiful. I think it's God reminding her.

I've never walked this road, but I decide that if we're going to run a five-day rehab, it is going to be the coolest in the country. It is going to be rock and roll. We start with the basics; lots of fun, too much Starbucks and way too many cigarettes more Thursday night she is in the balcony for Band Marino, Orlando's finest. They are indie-folk-fabulous, a movement disguised as a circus. She loves them and she smiles when I point out the A&R man from Atlantic Europe, in town from London just to catch this show. She is in good seats when the Magic beat the Sonics the next night, screaming like a lifelong fan with every Dwight Howard dunk. On the way home, we stop for more coffee and books, Blue Like Jazz and (Anne Lamott's) Travelling Mercies. On Saturday, the Taste of Chaos tour is in town and I'm not even sure we can get in, but doors do open and minutes after parking, we are on stage for Thrice, one of her favorite bands. She stands ten feet from the drummer, smiling constantly. It is a bright moment there in the music, as light and rain collide above the stage. It feels like healing. It is certainly hope.

Sunday night is church and many gather after the service to pray for Renee, this her last night before entering rehab. Some are strangers but all are friends tonight. The prayers move from broken to bold, all encouraging. We're talking to God but I think as much, we're talking to her, telling her she's loved, saying she does not go alone. One among us knows her best. Ryan sits in the corner strumming an acoustic guitar, singing songs she's inspired. After church our house fills with friends, there for a few more moments before goodbye. Everyone has some gift for her, some note or hug or piece of encouragement.

She pulls me aside and tells me she would like to give me something. I smile surprised, wondering what it could be. We walk through the crowded living room, to the garage and her stuff. She hands me her last razor blade, tells me it is the one she used to cut her arm and her last lines of cocaine five nights before. She's had it with her ever since, shares that tonight will be the hardest night and she shouldn't have it. I hold it carefully, thank her and know instantly that this moment, this gift, will stay with me. It hits me to wonder if this great feeling is what Christ knows when we surrender our broken hearts, when we trade death for life. As we arrive at the treatment center, she finishes: "The stars are always there but we miss them in the dirt and clouds. We miss them in the storms. Tell them to remember hope. We have hope."

I have watched life come back to her, and it has been a privilege. When our time with her began, someone suggested shifts but that is the language of business. Love is something better. I have been challenged and changed, reminded that love is that simple answer to so many of our hardest questions. Don Miller says we're called to hold our hands against the wounds of a broken world, to stop the bleeding. I agree so greatly. We often ask God to show up. We pray prayers of rescue. Perhaps God would ask us to be that rescue, to be His body, to move for things that matter. He is not invisible when we come alive. I might be simple but more and more, I believe God works in love, speaks in love, is revealed in our love. I have seen that this week and honestly, it has been simple: Take a broken girl, treat her like a famous princess, give her the best seats in the house. Buy her coffee and cigarettes for the coming down, books and bathroom things for the days ahead. Tell her something true when all she's known are lies. Tell her God loves her. Tell her about forgiveness, the possibility of freedom, tell her she was made to dance in white dresses. All these things are true.

We are only asked to love, to offer hope to the many hopeless. We don't get to choose all the endings, but we are asked to play the rescuers. We won't solve all mysteries and our hearts will certainly break in such a vulnerable life, but it is the best way. We were made to be lovers bold in broken places, pouring ourselves out again and again until we're called home. I have learned so much in one week with one brave girl. She is alive now, in the patience and safety of rehab, covered in marks of madness but choosing to believe that God makes things new, that He meant hope and healing in the stars. She would ask you to remember. "

I'm Going For It...

I've decided to go after J for child support...again. I tried last year, but I didn't have his address and he avoided them at work, so he was never able to be served. Now I have his home address and work address, so I'm going to put the forms in the mail tomorrow.

The one thing that is slightly scary about this is that if paternity is established the restraining order with L against him will be lifted. I don't think he knows that, though, since he didn't show up to court when the restraining order was established. Even if he does try to fight for some form of custody, I doubt he'll get it because of the pending case against him.

I do know that one day I want him to be a part of Lo's life. He really does have a good heart...when he's not messed up on drugs. Unfortunately, when I knew him, it was rare for him to not be on something. I do think he's cleaned up his act though. I'd like to think that this is a wake-up call for him; he could be doing some serious time for what he did to me.

I'm just not scared anymore. He doesn't rule my life. Yes, I do still think about him, a lot, but instead of thinking about him in anger, I'm sad that he wasn't able to step up and be the dad I know he can be. I hope that any time served will help him be able to get his life together. I mean, I requested that he get counseling if he's convicted, and he'd have the opportunity to get his GED while in prison (isn't it nice that they get all these "perks"?). I dunno, we shall see.

I might not even get anything for a while. It takes 6-9 months for child support to be put into effect, and we're supposed to go to trial next month (unless there's another continuance). I guess I'll just be happy to know that when he gets out he'll have this money owed to me. He needs to accept responsibility for his actions, and I need to stop thinking that it's ok for him to not support his child. I just hope that him getting served doesn't put him over the edge. Oh yeah, he's also going to get served with paperwork to change L's name - dropping his last name and giving her mine. That should be interesting.