Hangs her head in shame...

Ok, so I've been a horrible blogger and an even worse diary updater. Usually when I've gone this long before updating I give a really long recap post so you all know what has being going on. This time I'm not. Sorry but here is the recap: Shit happens. And it happened to me. A lot.

I'm working on two things in my life right now, my need to control not only every minuscule detail in my own life but also those around me, and my co-dependency (from her on out referred to as co-dp). I'm pretty sure these things go hand in hand but if I chose to take them as two small problems instead of a giant humongous single problem, its less overwhelming. I'm reading a bok called "Co-Dp No More". I'd love to say I'm no longer trying to control everyone around me but I haven't made that much progress. I have made enough progress to recognize that I am a controlling bitch that suffers from roughshod insanity when things are out of whack. So that is some kind of progress.

In school we are studying the Confessionalist poets Lowell, Berryman, and Plathe. I realized shortly after we started that they too suffered from roughshod insanity. A ton of poets and writers were. Completely, shithouse insane. I feel like I'm in good company. This is a good realization in my life because by recognizing the problem we can take steps to solve it, right?

In the meantime, I feel fall in the air and I love it. I want for it to be mosquito and allergy-less.
I want the smell of pumpkin on my hands, the smell of chimney woodsmoke and fresh baked bread. I want everything that is fall. Summertime has officially become a doo-doo head and needs to go to away. I think I want to use this as my commonplace book. I have been keeping my commonplace book in my backpack but it is giant and heavy and it makes so much more sense to post it here. A commonplace book is a journal filled with art and poems, stories and vinettes written by you but also by people that you admire. Its like a collection of moods and emotions. I've never done one online before and I think it might be tricksey but I'm going to work for it.

I found a long lost friend on facebook and she accepted my friend request but now she ignores me and doesn't answer my wall posts. Ok, I can see being pissed off at me and I totally understand holding a grudge but why accept my friend request? Why not just ignore it? Another friend that is still kind of angry at my treatment of her in highschool accepted my friend request with the caveat that we not talk about the past. That makes complete sense to me and I respect her for it immensely. We've both grown and become different people so it is important to leave the past behind us. Maybe I'm reading into it, maybe the more recent add is not still mad at me from high school but is just too busy to respond. I'll set it on a shelf and let it stew a little bit.

5 days until my birthday. Thirty four. This number doesn't hold any fear or angst for me. I just really don't give a shit. I remember when I was a kid, every morning on my birthday my mother would ask, "So, do you feel any different?" I remember I always tried very hard to reach down inside of me to find a 'differentness' but I never could find one. I guess the last couple of years I've just stopped looking for the element of change inside of me. I am changing all the time, making myself a better person; more spiritual, more giving, more patient. My age doesn't have anything to do with that. Wisdom comes with practice not with time. Again, I guess those go hand in hand.

I'm going to apply for a job. I know this ruins my "June Cleaver" credibility but to be honest the house doesn't stay any cleaner with me being home than it would if I were bringing money to help pay the bills. My house is a shambles. I'm sorry. It will be clean when I retire. I've have one of those spectacular perfectly clean and tidy homes when I retire. Right now I'm doing what is important: Helping Keira learn to writer her letters, helping Ari with her spelling lists, helping Donovan with his "Allow ballcaps to be worn in school" petition, and keep my own grades up.

Next? Maybe a poem.