Mermaids

Every once in awhile my mind will get this crazy thought that it becomes completely obsessed with. Lately, it's mermaids.

Yeah, like that

I'm not sure why. I also don't know why I'm writing this in a cracked.com article format. But that doesn't matter right now. All that matters is mermaids are not real.

I understand and hope that the majority of the population already understands this fact, but there are people that not only believe in mermaids, but actually believe that muttering a few words in your bathtub with the door locked will turn you into a real live mermaid. Google "mermaid spells" if you don't believe me. If you're too lazy, here's an example:

“In this night and with this power,
I call on to you in my darkest hour,
The magical kingdom let me through,
Ohh please make my wish come true.
Hear me now hear my need,
Spirits from the other sea,
Make this spell magic.
Ohh god ohh dear god,
Make me choose wrong- don’t make me odd,
Make me able to breath underwater and sing every song”.

 Real stuff there folks. Be careful though, it only works if you're "meant to be a mermaid". Luckily this trend seems to have died down a lot. A few months ago this was everywhere. People were claiming they were turning into mermaids and even posting pictures of their transformations and everything. Now it seems to be a trend between 10-13 year old girls. Old enough to know better, but not like 16-18 like some of the people that were posting this crap a few weeks ago.

Anyway, that little rant is over. Now it's time for a new mermaid rant. Woohoo! 

Grab your party hats!

Mermaids DO NOT EXIST. Usually this would be common sense, but when trusted sites such as foxnews.com are running articles that Israel is offering $1,000,000 for the capture of a mermaid, that's where I have a problem.

Let me start be rephrasing the beginning of that last paragraph. Mermaids CAN NOT exist. At least, not according to the theory of evolution.

It is stated that every creature evolves to fit is environment. If a mermaid were to evolve to fit its environment, it would be so drastically different from your idea of a mermaid you probably wouldn't even mistake the two.

A human (even half-human) was not designed to live in the water. A "real" mermaid would not have hair. Can you imagine being under the water with your hair flowing all over the place? Uh oh! What if you see a shark? You turn your head, your flowy hair gets in your face, and you get eaten by sharks. Or even if you just decide to swim away just in case, your hair is going to get in your face, you'll probably get lost, and then you'll get eaten anyway. How are you going to keep an entire race alive when you're constantly getting eaten by sharks?

If mermaids knew what a ponytail was, this wouldn't have happened.

And besides the hair, there are so many other things that would basically kill a mermaid instantly. Like the shape of their heads. If a mermaid has a human face, they would have to be looking up to see where they're swimming. That would cause a lot of drag. In order for them to be able to swim away from predators fast enough, they'd have to look down. If that was the case, they wouldn't be able to see. They would probably run into a rock, and get eaten by sharks. (Anyone else notice a theme here?)

And lastly, for now at least, is the arms. Mermaids would not have arms. They would serve no purpose other than slowing you down when you're trying to blindly escape the sharks. Sure you'd be able to grab things, but what does that really matter in a world of sharks and whales and giant squids? Nothing. Nothing at all. 

So basically, according to the theory of evolution, even if there ever WAS such a thing as a mermaid, it probably died instantly. They are not meant to look like what people think they're supposed to look like. Take away the hair, the face, change the head, take away the arms, and we might have a mermaid.

Look! There's one now!

And that's all I have to say about that. Now I can move on with my life and continue not believing in mermaids. Whew!

Oh How Times Have Changed...

It wasn't long ago that life was completely different than it is now.

I lived in Louisiana, and my days consisted of going to work, coming home, smoking pot, and passing out on the couch because I really had nothing better going for me and I didn't really care. Other activities I enjoyed included stealing and playing video games (Ok, so the video game part still stands). I didn't have any cable, and the only DVDs I had were a few seasons of House which I watched over, and over, and over again. I can now officially be a doctor, I watched them so many times.

Now, 3 years later, it's hard to believe I ever lived that life. Instead of getting excited about going out and smoking, I'm excited about going to the craft store to buy yarn and make fuzzy little creatures for myself. I have a 2 year old, and a little boy on the way. I'm married. It's crazy! If you would have told me back then that this is the life I would be living in a few years, I would have laughed in your face, and possibly told you to go off yourself, depending on what mood I was in.

Luckily, I don't miss my old life at all. Well, maybe a bit. I liked being able to watch House for hours and hours with no interruptions. I also miss living in my own space and having the option of if I wanted to get dressed after my shower. Can't exactly run around in a towel all day at your parents house in a towel. *sigh*

Besides my habits and living arrangements, even more has changed. Over the years and through the distance I've been able to see where exactly I stand in my friends lives. Some friends have been there like I never even left. Some have gotten stronger. Some I only talk to every 3 or 4 months. And some I don't talk to much, but know that they're true friends and would be there for me no matter what.

Hmm... well I guess change is just part of life.

Time to get breakfast for the kiddo and finish my crocheting! :D

Ponder Ponder Ponder

Ever have those days where you really don't feel good enough?

If so, welcome to every day of my life.

I wish I could know what it feels like to be "the best". At anything, really. The only time I get that feeling is when I win a round of Call of Duty, and see my name at the top of the list. It's right there in your face. THE BEST. NUMBER 1. And even though it's not real, it's still a great feeling.

If only life could be like that, instead of trying your best and realizing there is always someone who is better than you. I understand that's what life is about, but I don't understand why it has to be right in your face. Why you can't just get the appreciation you deserve.

But then again, maybe you don't deserve that appreciation. Maybe you just imagined the whole thing.

Sometimes I feel like I don't exist. Or that I'm just the back-up plan.

My Morbid Mind

Ever catch yourself thinking horrible things? I do that, a lot. But instead of my mind shutting them off and moving to the next thing like I would imagine a normal persons mind does, the thought just continues until I'm satisfied that the thought is complete and can't go along any further.

These thoughts range from things like almost getting into accidents, to what would happen if I dropped a steak knife on my foot while doing dishes.

Example: I was driving one day, and a school bus full of kids pulls out in front of me. The bus was slow, and I was doing about 45. I slammed on my breaks and swerved around the end of the bus. But my mind didn't really care that I avoided the accident. It wanted to show me what would happen if the bus was just a little slower, or if my breaks didn't work quite so well. Since I was in my van, I would have hit the side of the bus like a wall, probably killing myself on impact. If I didn't, I'm sure that the bus would have been torn enough that a piece of metal would have made it through my windshield and taken care of me that way. Of course the kids on the bus wouldn't have had a much better ending, but I won't get into that. And that's just a basic outline of what my brain likes to do to me.

Another thing I catch myself thinking about is my funeral. I know my parents would come, my sister and Tom. Of course Matt would be there, his parents, probably Jenna. My mom's two friends would come, and probably their two kids. Anndddd... my uncle Jim and his wife Jill.

But that's about it. I know my friend would try to be there, she would want to be there. But I don't know if she would make it.

The rest of my family? Probably not. I've heard they all think I'm a lazy bum, not ever going to do anything with my life, and have completely disowned both me and Krystal over things we had nothing to do with. I've heard from more than one person that people IN my family don't like me. And I've never even done anything to any of them. It just sucks.

If anything were to happen to me though, I really don't think I'd want them there. They have their opinions of me, why should they change just because I'm gone? That's my opinion anyway. If you found out someone you hate was going to die, would you forget about why you hate them? I wouldn't, and if that's harsh than so be it. I feel the same should apply after death.


Well, I think I may be done blogging for today.

Dreams... Pt. 2

Somehow Matt ends up with us again, fine, and we're all at my grandpa's house. By all of us, I mean Matt, Krystal, Mom, Dad, Kristen, and Tom. And me.

We're still trying to escape from whatever it is that's following us, this dark hatred. We decide that we need to go far, far away, and my dad shows up with two giant motor homes for us to take. One for him and my mom, and the other for me, Matt, and Krystal. They're burnt orange colored, and super shiny.

We go back to the house, which is somehow safe now, and start getting our stuff out of the house. I'm guessing moving out is the same as moving in in dreams, because we only worried about the stuff in the attic.

After getting it all packed we were about ready to go. We drove back to my grandpa's house where my dad is standing on the back porch. Something isn't right. He looks angry and he's mumbling to himself. He then starts screaming and attacking his motor home. After a minute or so, he breaks down and starts crying. Whatever the thing was, it now has my father. And my father can't fight it like I can. We realize we have to get my dad as far away as possible.

We're still packing, and my dad is fine again. When me and Matt try to get into our motor home we realize that it's full of people and there's barely enough room for us. We can't go.

And then... Krystal smacks me in the face and wakes me up. Then she runs out the door and down the hall before I've even really opened my eyes. So who knows what would've happened.

The worst part of everything is the feeling of dread and worthlessness didn't go away when I woke up. And I do feel haunted. Not by anything in particular, just by emotions and feelings I can't get rid of and have no reason to really be thinking. *sigh*

Dreams... Pt. 1

Last night I had horrible dreams. They probably seem stupid and childish, but I still feel like I need to write them down. Never said you had to read this, did I?

It started that me and Matt were looking for a place to live. We had looked and looked, and I found this house I just fell in love with. It was off by itself, behind trees, with a huge yard. It looked like it had been abandoned for quite awhile, but nothing a bit of love and elbow grease wouldn't fix right up. And luckily, it was for rent! Even better, it was in our price range!

So we were driving, and I had him pull over to check it out. The guy who was renting it was already there for whatever reason. He was really tall and really skinny, kind of had that hillbilly look going on. He was dirty and scruffy, his beard as gray as his hair. He took us to the front porch, and opened the door for us. He told us it was a mess, and to be careful where we stepped. He didn't follow us inside.

Me, Matt, and Krystal walked into the house, and besides the fact it was filthy, it was amazing and huge. We walked through the first room, which I just call the "welcome room", because it's just big enough to decorate and take your shoes off in but not a room you'd want to occupy for long periods of time. There was dust and mouse droppings all over the floor, and in the middle of the floor there was a little crochet mouse. White, with black ears. At the end of this room there were three stairs leading down (to living room) and three leading up (to the dining room/kitchen). We walked into the dining room, and I looked behind at the mouse on the floor. It started walking across the floor, and I immediately started feeling things weren't right here. But I wasn't going to let a haunted cat toy ruin my dream house.

We continued looking around the house, the whole thing dirty and musty, but still oddly beautiful. However much I liked the house however, I couldn't shake the feeling things just weren't right. But for the price and the space we would have, I ignored my gut and we got the place.

Next thing I know, we've got the place cleaned up and ready to live in. Apparently in dreams, moving in means all your stuff magically appears in the house exactly where you want it and all you have to worry about is how to get the boxes of crap you don't know where to put in the attic. For some reason, this was my job.

As I was up in the attic, I had an intense feeling of dread and overall horribleness. (Yes, horribleness). That feeling I had gotten in the house was coming from here. I tried again to ignore but that's when I started hearing his voice. His voice was cold and full of hate, and completely paralyzed me with fear. He told me things like he was going to make me kill myself, and that nobody liked me, I was a horrible person, etc. He just sat there and told me these things over and over again.

It felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes. Finally, when he left, it was as if I had only dreamed that it happened, and I kind of shrugged it off and went back to getting the boxes arranged.

Over the next few days or weeks whatever things got worse. His voice was following me constantly, and it was no longer just affecting me, it was affecting my family as well. Things would break for no reason, like plates in the cupboards being thrown across the room, or pictures falling off the walls constantly. Lights were constantly going on and off, as well as TV's and any other electronics. But I was still the only one who could hear his hateful voice.

Eventually, his words became my life. I did want to kill myself. I did hate myself, and my family. I didn't deserve any of it, and they would all be better off without me. I sat in the "welcome room" for probably close to a day. Matt tried to talk to me, I couldn't even hear him. I didn't even care. Somehow, he knew what was happening. I think he started hearing his voice too. He knew I had to get out of that house, but I refused to move. When he tried to move me I would just come back. I want to say Krystal was with my mom at this point, because I don't remember her being there and I remember her being with my mom later.

After a while, I move from the "welcome room". I'm out in the garage now, and I look up into the attic. I can see his eyes peering down at me, and somehow it wakes me up for a minute. I realize I'm going to die, and we need to leave. I start running around looking for keys, trying to get clothes, everything else we need to make it a few days until we find out where we're going/what we're doing.

My parents obviously knew I needed help, because they show up with a van and help me get ready. As they're getting everything in the car ready, I realize the attic is empty. This isn't a reassuring feeling, because even though there is nothing in the attic, I still feel him somewhere. Then I realize Matt is gone. And the house is locked.

I can't get in, but I hear him and Matt talking. I can't remember what they were saying, but I know in the end that Matt gets possessed by him, and I had to leave him there, because there was nothing I could do.

And that's only part 1.

The Mom You Wish You Were: SuperMom

Every one knows one. Or maybe your mother was one. I know that by the stories I hear my own mother was a fucking SUPERMOM.

According to my father, my mother was just amazing. I swear, she must have been some kind of robot. She was able to make us three meals a day. She kept the house spotless with not one, but TWO children. There was never a day the dishes went undone, there were never any crumbs on the floor, or in our highchairs. Not once did she lose a sippycup of juice only to find it months later under the couch or in the back of the closet. Never did she fall behind on the laundry. Our clothes were always clean, folded, and put away. We took our naps every day at the same time with no fuss, and went to bed perfectly. This left her enough time to balance the check book while catching up on her soaps and probably doing other super things that super moms manage to do in their super days.

I am not a super mom. I am not even close. And because I can't watch a toddler, cook dinner, clean the floors/dishes/tables/laundry, and still be "mom", I apparently am not a good mother at all. I can barely do all that and still be "me". But apparently my mother was able to do everything under the moon without even the help of a babysitter or even a television. I just don't understand it. I can't even clean and keep Krystal out of trouble with television AND a baby sitter. I can't even clean if she's anywhere near me. While I'm doing one thing she's on the other side of the room destroying something else. Not even her playroom is allowed to be out of order.

I think the best part is that nothing was or is ever overwhelming to these "super moms". Their kids are obviously as perfect as they are, and are potty trained before they even hit one. Again, I am not that kind of mother and never will be. I just can't. I don't know how, to start with. And I don't feel like losing everything I am and every bit of sanity to obsessively watch my children and make sure they never do anything wrong.

If that makes me a bad mom, well... I guess I suck.

On a Positive Note...

I feel pretty confident in saying I'm not a "fake" person. I'm not going to act like your friend when I'm not. I'm not going to be someone who I don't feel is really "me" just to make you more comfortable. If that makes me come off as an overdramatic attention whore than so be it.

I've noticed I only tend to share the negative aspects of my life on the internet. Anyone who knows me IRL or on any level deeper than my Facebook statuses knows that I'm not that miserable of a person.

I enjoy watching Dexter and baking cupcakes. I play Rockband. I spend a decent portion of my day on Neopets, and if I knew where my DS was, I would be playing Pokemon. I'm not sick all the time, but to write "I feel great today" on a status just seems boring. Maybe writing "I think my head is going to explode" every other day seems a bit over the top, but I guess I just share things online that aren't normal in my everyday life. My everyday life is pretty boring.

I wake up, eat some leftovers and make Krystal breakfast. I check Facebook, see what's going on in Neopia, and basically do nothing. I bring out some toys for her to play with, and try my best not to let her make to much of a mess. If you saw my living room, you would realize that I fail at this every day. We play for a bit, and when I get tired we watch some Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. My parents usually come home about this time, and we talk for a few minutes before they go to their part of the house. Then me and Krystal just lounge, play, watch TV, and snack the rest of the day. It's pretty routine and pretty damn boring.

I guess in an attempt to make myself more "normal" on the internet, I should write about the normal, boring, regular things that happen in my life.

Did you know I was pregnant? If not, I don't blame you, I rarely ever talk about it. Nothing is really going on. Just boring old normalness until up to a few days ago. And even the non-normalness I feel bad writing about because I feel like I'm complaining. And I know how annoying it can be when someone complains about every little thing in their pregnancy. But this is a time to be cautious. If you feel unsure about something, you should probably ask someone about it. At least your mind will be put to ease. I just have trouble with that because I feel like I'm over-reacting. As usual.

Well I'm pretty sure this post was all over the place so I'm just going to wrap it up before I ramble your faces off.

Change

I've never once stated I was perfect. In fact, I was usually the first to state my flaws. The first to say that my life isn't perfect. The first to say that I wasn't perfect.

I thought I was sharing my personal thoughts and opinions with a group of people that would I guess "be there" for me. I understand that that's not what they were "there" for, but after knowing people for so long and sharing so much I began to feel safe and started to share my personal feelings and struggles with these people.

I now see I was a complete and total fucking idiot for doing so.

These people weren't my friends. Friends are there when you're going through a tough time. I know what's best for me. I just needed help staying strong. I'm not just going to run out because things are getting tough. I stayed. I stayed when everyone told me to leave. And you know what? Things are actually looking like they might be ok for once.

I've always been there for everyone and everything they're going through. I very, VERY rarely judge a person or talk rudely about them. And if I do, I usually have no problem saying it straight to your face. If I think you're fake, I'll probably call you out on it or ignore you completely. I'm not going to act like your friend and give you a false sense of security when you need someone most.

I just can't believe I was so clueless to how these people truly felt about me when I thought they were my "friends". I know it wasn't everybody, but the ones that did say something, it hurts.

If anything came from this, I've learned that you can't really trust people. Never get to comfortable with people. You don't know what they're saying behind your back, no matter how sweet they seem to your face.

I also understand that this post probably comes off as "pathetic" and "attention-seeking", but you know what? I don't care. This is what is on my mind right now. Go ahead and send your friends the link, as you all laugh and make fun of me because I'm apparently a sorry excuse for a human being.

Have a wonderfully perfect day.