Spoiler Allert, Kids!

The older I get the more frustrated I find myself becoming with the lessons they taught us as children growing up in this world. Disney teaches us that we will all find love and that love is worth any sacrifice. Our 1st grade teachers tell us we can achieve anything we want with enough hard work and we should never give up. Our parents constantly remind us that it is what's on the inside that counts.

These are all truly beautiful ideas. If the world worked this way it would be a much simpler and kinder place. And maybe that's why we were taught these ideals so young. The generations before us projecting their image of a perfect world onto us. It's a great thought. Really, it is... but life does not work this way. Don't get me wrong living your life with that kind of optimism and faith can really take you far. It's great to be so positive and you will reap the benefits. However...

You may not find love.
It's possible you'll be alone forever.
There's more to life than romantic love, and sometimes, there are thing far more important.
You cannot achieve "anything." There are many things that are impossible. And far too many things really do rely on natural talent.
You have to give up sometimes, otherwise you'll probably die at a young age over something really very stupid.
What's on the inside does matter a lot. But lets get real, life is easier for the aesthetically pleasing individual.

There are a hundred different ways I can take this thought from here. And someday I may expand on this. However today, the topic on my mind is sacrifice. One thing the sheltered 10 year old Emily had no concept of was graceful surrender. 10 year old me had no idea that loss was one of the hardest things to accept. 10 year old me was oblivious to the unavoidable lesson creeping up.
 
Give it a few years...

The first few times I lost something close to my heart I couldn't accept it. I held on to what I loved and fought for it tooth and nail. Even after the thing was gone I spent far too long holding on to what I thought was left. Had I known how much easier it was to let go. How much happier I would have been accepting the loss... It seemed like such a weak thing to do. I convinced myself that if I held on to these lost things, they'd somehow find their way back to me. Like they wouldn't have a choice. I thought I was being strong by holding on. Looking back I realize I was just too weak to abandon my delusions.

So here we reach one of the most difficult things I found about "the real world." Knowing when giving up is the bravest thing you can do. Knowing when letting go is the right course of action and accepting that you may have to hurt people, to do the right thing. I see so many people dragging their loved ones through hell just to hold onto a sliver of hope for a happy ending encompassing the team. I do believe that love is the most powerful thing on this earth. I think if you've found a connection that sparks and feeds off itself and lights the way thought the tough times, you should hold onto it tightly and give it your all. I also think that if you love someone (romantic or platonic) you should be willing to do what's best for them. At no, little or great sacrifice.

I'm NOT crazy!

I want to walk around in my own home in my pj pants/shorts and a tank top and not feel self conscious.

I want to eat the food I buy for myself.

I want to be comfortable leaving my purse or wallet on my kitchen counter or living room couch. Or in my entryway or staircase or bathroom or refrigerator or ... anywhere that isn't under the bed I'm sleeping on!

I want my house to not smell like cigarettes and weed.

I want to get a full day's sleep without being woken up by loud phone conversations and ridiculous video game sounds.

I want to listen to my music while getting ready for work and not feel stupid for singing along and jammin' out.

I want to not be too embarrassed by my messy house to have my boyfriend come over and keep me company.

I don't want to feel I have to put on makeup and brush my hair every time I leave my room for the kitchen or living room.
I want my bathroom door attached to the wall.

I want to feel safe and comfortable in my own home.

Why are people treating me like an irrational, greedy lunatic?

I've been feeling a little out of place the past week or two. I'm generally fairly happy with my life right now but something just seems off. I'm not where I want to be. I'm not sure where to go from here. Even if I did I'm not certain I'd know how to get there.

I like to think of myself not as a puzzle piece, but a puzzle, missing pieces. I've got one, maybe two sides matched up. But there's something that doesn't quite fit. It's not an empty space, but a space occupied by the wrong thing.

More of a rant than anything...

Over the past few years it's been said by many people that I'm hard to help. Because I don't ask for help. because I don't accept help. Why? I'm going to blame the bulk of this issue on my family. This is a short (believe it or not) explanation of why. Those of you close to me know the story runs deeper and there are many other  issues between my parents and I, both traumatic, and trivial. But here's my basic overview. This is also very much on my mind because the end of the story leads right up to present day.

Phase One: I suppose I've always had somewhat of a vendetta against my brother. There's typical sibling rivalry we all feel at a young age. "I can run faster than you!" "My slice of cake is bigger than yours!" "I broke the big side of the wishbone!" "Dad loves ME more!" And countless other competitions throughout the years as we grow older and find new things we want to win at. Being three years younger than my brother I endured a  nice long eight or nine year losing streak. He could argue better. He knew more. And he was of course bigger, stronger, faster and in most ways just more advanced then I was. These first years of constant failure, I can let go of.

Welcome to the world younger sibling. Better get used to it.

Phase Two: Entering our adolescence was, as it is for all teenagers, a strange and painful experience. Soon after my brother entered high school he stumbled upon this new phase of delinquency. Drinking, fighting, smoking, drugs, and general mayhem. I watched my little family struggle through this ordeal as I assume most families do. Disobedience leading to punishment. Punishment evoking further acts of rebellion retorted with more discipline and so and and so forth.

As I entered the same years I distinctly remember feeling shorted on the whole ordeal. Were our parents more strict on me than they had been on him? Did he seem to get away with a lot more than I did? I wondered, even then, if it was all in my head. I realize now with what I see as a fairly objective stance, despite my biases, that no, it was no delusion. My parents had seen what adolescence had done to my brother so they in turn tightened their grip on me. I didn't get into too much trouble really. Yes, I drank some alcohol (first handed to me by my brother.) I smoked some marijuana (handed to me by my brother.) I attended a few parties (usually hosted or co-hosted by my brother.) But looking back, I wasn't a bad kid in the grand scheme of things. My grades faltered as I began to suffer from depression. But no one really looked at the cause of the issue. They just saw the report card. However it always seemed to me that precious Aarons' feelings and state of well being was closely monitored. The second phase of our rivalry left a bad taste in my mouth that no future parental praise or bottle upon bottle of mouthwash could dilute.

Phase Three: Soon after high school graduation I moved out of my parents house, leaving parents and brother behind. "Why don't you call more?" "Why can't we stop by?" Because I'm a bitter, angry, disdainful person with a chip on my shoulder the size and awkward shape of Mt. Rushmore. I had been on my own for a good year and a half before my brother finally got a place that wasn't in Mommy and Daddy's house. *Keep in mind he's three years older than me.* Eventually I had to move back into my parents place because my roommate stopped being able to pay rent and I needed a place to crash until I found a new place. Feeling my upper hand loosening I was desperate to once again be on my own.

My parents decided to take a year traveling in the states. They agreed I was the one who could be trusted to look after their house and entitled me with all the authority I could ask for. If I didn't want Aaron around I could kick him out. If he gave me serious trouble I could even change the locks. The idea of having a full house to myself sounded great. Until I realized electric bills plus gas to get out there every day really wasn't saving me any money at all. I was just doing my family a favor. And I was okay with that. Until my brother lost yet another job and in turn lost his apartment. No where to go I agreed to let him stay with me for a while. Not long after that I caught him stealing my money from me. I kicked him out. ... Correction, I tried to kick him out. My parents wouldn't hear of it and insisted I let my thief brother stay with me.

Because they were scared where he'd end up they flew him down to Nevada and put him up for a few months. I was only slightly put off by this. They were supporting him. Buying him food, giving him a free place to live, all that good stuff while I was up in Alaska struggling to make ends meet. "Do I get caught up on electric bill? Pay off my dentist or go to a chiropractor?" But he was out of my hair, so I was, for the most part, content. Until they decided to send him back to me, again insisting he stay with me.  At this time they also threw out my rule of not letting his creepy friends come to the house. All my power thrown away for my brothers comfort.

Just as I began to think my bitterness had reached it's peak, Aaron told me what he had in his bank account. The amount stated being more than three times the amount I have to my name. When he's been out of work for months and I've been working as much as possible since I turned sixteen. How is it I strive to be completely self sufficient, work hard for everything I have, budget my funds like a motherfucker and I still come out financially behind my deadbeat, lazy-ass brother who's been out of work for months and can't hold down a job to save his life even when he does have one?

Conclusion: On a moral and ethical standing of the battle of the Boreckis, I've clearly won. Hands down. After all of this I know I've come out a better person because of it all. I have possibly too much pride and piles of self-assurance. But does it stop me from being angry as hell at the injustice of my entire family dynamics? No.

And this (along with so many other, smaller reasons) is why I have such a hard time asking for help. I have been working on it but I'm not sure if I'll ever shake the feeling of always having something to prove.

Equilibrium

There's always a reason your fighting for something, emotions control our actions. But sometimes it might be a good idea to step back and ask yourself,

What am I fighting for?

When I reach my goal will I be happy?

Is this even what I want?

Life is all about giving and taking. You have to do both. Sometimes your taking more than you're giving. Sometimes you're taking more than you're being given. There's a balance in here that will never really even out, however hard we try. This is how we work, as family, as friends, as lovers. Take a look at your life and ask yourself,

What am I giving?

How much am I taking?

Who's giving back?

Nice Guys

I'm tired of guys always complaining about how girls date jerks and "nice guys finish last," and all that other bull. Let me lay it down for ya guys.

The Asshole Guy go to a party determined to hook up. He doesn't care who with. He honestly doesn't care if one girl turns him down. He doesn't care if five girls turn him down. He's totally prepared to move on to the next set of walking boobs. This guy, at most, is looking for a steady lay. He has zero interest in taking you out for a walk under the stars, ending with hot chocolate and a sweet kiss goodnight. Most likely he's just looking for some ass. The Asshole Guy has nothing to lose. He's only going to gain, however many girls he has to hit on before achieving this goal. Because he doesn't care about you, he can't get hurt by you. So he'll continue asking and asking until someone says yes, and that's good enough for him.

The Nice Guy isn't going to approach a girl he likes, get turned down, brush it off and move on to the next possible candidate that same minute. Nice Guy wants to make a connection, Nice Guy wants to share his feelings. But shared feelings lead to pain. Nice Guy knows this and is scared to approach a woman he shows real interest in because she has the ability to hurt him. So Nice Guy sits back, wishing he had the confidence to ask that pretty lady at the bar if he can buy her a drink, and watching as all the Assholes achieve his goals for him.

It's not that nice guys finish last. It's not that girls want to date douche-bag bros... It's that they're the only ones asking.

Also people wonder why nice guys date skanky hoes. Well Skanky Hoe is much like Asshole Guy. She's got nothing to lose, so she's the one walking up to Mr. Nice Guy. Any guy, really. And Nice Guy is just pleased to get the attention, and goes for it.

So there you have it. Granted many Nice Guy and Nice Girl couples do get together. But this whole messed up system of self consciousness and fear is really just making this crazy little thing called love a lot more difficult than it needs to be.

Walmart

When I applied to work at Walmart I was truly desperate for a job. I had applied to every bank in town. (I really wanted to be a teller.) Walmart was my, "well why the hell not" idea, before I resorted back to cafe work. The only place to call me back was Walmart. I got hired to work nights as a stocker. I can remember sitting around at home saying, "I don't want to work at fucking Walmart," the whole day before my first night, truly dreading what was coming. My feelings turned out to be both totally justified and completely incorrect.

I hate that I work at Walmart. The pay is pretty good for what I do and surprisingly I really enjoy the night shift gig. However I hate seeing people I know shopping while I'm working. I hate telling people what I do. I hate the social stigma that accompanies my source of income. Also, I hate the drama of the place. Honestly it's like being back in high school. There's cliques and rumors and this really weird hierarchy among the employees. Everyone is always talking crap behind their "friends" backs. Everyone dates each other. Honestly, I hate it. I don't want to be connected to most of those people. Some of them I dislike with such a passion I haven't known since I was like 16. The managers are all insane and no one can seem to just leave me alone to do my work. Everyone thinks they know more than everyone else and it feels like everyone has something to prove. All my usual daily complaints are completely different then what I was expecting them to be.

On the other side of things, some great stuff has come from my time there. Soon after I started work I began hanging out with some of my coworkers. It felt nice to be invited places with people I was just getting to know. They wanted me around, and I was flattered. I become close with one of the girls I worked along side with and that friendship just gets more interesting. I found a whole new party crew to drink and have fun with. That all doesn't happen as much as it used to but I've really enjoyed being a part of it. About a month after being there I was approached by someone I instantly knew belonged in my life. Being with Arthur may have gotten me "kicked out" of my original "new group" of "friends," but my relationship with him has made me cherish every turn in my life I was either forced to make or chose to make that lead me to the seemingly desperate moment filling out a Walmart employee application. Looking back at almost all my favorite memories from this past winter I realize none of them would have happened without that application.

Moral of the story?

Every cloud has a silver lining.

Don't knock it 'til you try it.

Good things come to those who wait.

"God blessed the broken road that led me straight to you." ?

One of those silly cliches.

And just so everyone knows, I am properly ashamed that I just wrote a blog post about Walmart.

"Identity Crisis" Clarification

I've heard a few peoples comment on my "Identity Crisis" post. Someone was disagreeing and saying, yes people can change. Someone else said it was a sad post because I said people cannot change. I think my point was missed. People can change. My point however was that the change is coming from a piece of the person that has always been there. People choose to highlight certain points of their personality or come to realize there is a stronger emotion or opinion within them worth building upon, and that's where I believe change comes from. Also I think everything you've ever felt, done or experienced becomes a part of who you are from that moment on. Yes, you can take it however you want, and you can change the placement of said thing to another area of your heart, but it's always there. Clarification success?

And to answer your question Timmy, I paid every cent for those $5 words. That post took me about 6 hours.

Hello?

Out of curiosity, does ANYONE read this blog anymore? I haven't gotten a comment in forever. If you read this would you mind leaving a quick comment? Just so I know if I'm rambling to myself or not. Thanks.

Identity Crisis

"I don't care about the past, I believe in the power to reinvent yourself." - Lex Luthor (Michael Rosenbaum) in Season One of Smallville.

This is one of my favorite quotes. Such strong belief in the dominance over his own own identity is initially inspiring. I look back at pictures of me in high school, or even just last year and there's a part of me that feels very detached from the girl I see. Who was she? Who is she now? Time disregarded, how much metaphysical space can be created between a previous and current individual? To what depth is this change capable of achieving? I love knowing people can, and often do, adjust their actions and disposition to become better versions of themselves. However the longer I think about this purported reformation the less I find myself having any faith in it at all. One might question, if after a considerable magnitude of development, how they can be held to the same identity as before. Is it possible for a being to undergo enough characteristic modification to become another person entirely? Is the reformed sinner truly a new man? Or has he merely been brought back to an innate setting, balancing out a natural assemblage of good and evil? To me, the practicability to an absolute recreation of the core components of personality seems impossible. I believe there are key points forming an identity that belong to a set of some irremovable primordial cluster of traits. These inborn attributes are brought to the forefront of complexion by varying factors and experiences. Whether the evolution of self is progressing in a positive or negative direction I think the action manifests by a brightened spark that can neither be added nor removed from within the individual. Is it possible for someone to reinvent himself, such as my favored quotes sates? No, I don't think so. Sorry Smallville, not this time.

Yes. Exactly.

I've tried to put this subject into my own words countless times. But discussing religion is a tricky thing. But basically this video says it all. Here goes...

"You'll get by without me if you want."

I over think most things. Those who are close to me know this. I'm scared of hurting people. I'm scared of getting hurt. But honestly, playing it safe all the time is working against me. I spend so much of my life in fear. I'm constantly worried about what other people are thinking, or how they will react to something I do, say, or feel. I'm sick of it. I didn't used to be this way. It's just so difficult to do something again, that's hurt so terribly in the past. But dammit... I'm tired of hiding how I feel. I'm tired of being scared. I'm not doing it anymore. If you can't handle how I feel, or the way I act, I don't need you. If I feel more strongly than you do, so what? I'm an emotional and passionate person. Fucking deal with it.

Directions

I can see very specific paths set out in front of me right now. There are three ways I can see my life going from here, all in the short term. There's one I definitely do not want. I know this for a fact and I refuse to let it become my future. However there are two more I want to pursue. I want two different things from life right now. And I'm trying desperately to figure out a way to combine them. It would take some cooperation, some sacrifice and some very stable common ground. It is possible, I can see that. But I don't want to be presumptuous. I don't want to rush life. I don't want to force anything. However, If it's what I want, why not just take it? There are just some things I will not live without.

"It's all fun and games..."

"It's more scared of you than you are of it."
So that's why it's going to hurt me?

"Survival of the fittest."

Kill or be killed, right?

"All's fair in love and war."

So what's the difference?

*sigh*
I don't much like these games.

Synchronization

The problem with all humans is we're not all robots. We don't all have the same programing. Free will and free thinking creates unpredictability. Unpredictability creates confusion. Confusion creates frustration. Frustration leads to all other kinds of addled emotions. Emotions make us unpredictable. It goes full circle and there's no way out. The worst thing about people and their emotions is their individuality. An emotion, felt by one person, uses the same name as a similar, yet possibly very different emotion felt by another person.

How are we supposed to properly communicate with one another when our words are so subjective and our emotions so ambiguous? It's all one giant muddled mess. And there's no fixing it. The best we can do is hope that whoever we decide to share our emotions with has a similar interpretation of the words we're trying to express. Or at least the two differing emotional constructions are in some way compatible.

As confounding as these differences are I cannot help but see it as the most beautiful piece of life. The variants of our species makes us interesting. The best parts of life come from exploring new people and deciphering their mental and emotional constructs. Some of our greatest problems with ourselves are also some of our greatest strengths. While the world would be quite a bit more simple if we were all robotic and emotionless, we would lose all the beauty in life. Although... if we were nothing but programs and metal... we wouldn't care much, would we?

... I'm talking myself in all kinds of directions here. I'll leave this post here. Point made.
Over and out.