Dawn's Digression.

Today I was digging through my box of 'stuff'. This is where I keep all momentos. I have condensed my entire life into one Xerox box. Actually, it is another paper brand, but I think you know what I mean. Anyway, I came across a folder full of poetry I wrote between '89 - '92. OH my. Some of this stuff is bad. But just to prove the point that you should never go back and read what you've written, I did. I read a bunch of it. And while some of it was so completely terrible, a lot of it also took me right back to the moment when I wrote it. Mostly the poems are about wanting to die or feeling alone. A popular theme in teen angst, I believe. The thing is, I think most people walk into adulthood, and leave the angst in those earlier years. I've never gotten over the whole "Who the fuck would really care if I wasn't here?" Nope. Never have. And this is something that scares me to death about having children. I have two reasons for this. #1 - I've spent most of my life questioning my existence....how do I know my child wouldn't feel the same? #2 - What if someday I finally snap, and I just can't take it anymore? How fair would that be? And actually, make it 3 reasons.... #3 Post partum.
Did I tell you my parents adopted a bat in my name? It's really cute. They went to Carlsbad Caverns and they saw a thing where you could adopt a bat, and immediately thought of me. The kit came with a picture of my bat, a certificate, a bumper sticker, and some bat information. My baby brother informed me I was to name the bat Flappy, but I've insisted on Flappy Flapperton. Mom wants me to write "Love, Flappy" on his picture (really a postcard) and put it in a frame on my desk at work. Sadly enough, I'm considering it. They certainly don't find me strange enough already, right? Sure. I have pictures of: a sea otter, river otters, prairie dogs, and a kitten already. I recently took down the bobcat and tree frog. Yeah, I'm the department weirdo. The girl that sits next to me has pretty fake plants, little teddy bears, and pictures of her family and dog. I have ripped out pictures of animals from free calendars. Oh, and don't forget the ivies in Solo cups I'm growing from cuttings. I am so classy.



I got tickets to Stomp! today. Yay! I've never seen it. Granted, our seats suck, but I just want to be there. I'm in the peanut gallery.
You know how to tell when I'm acting, pretending that all is rosey? When I'm sickeningly nice. That's the only way I've learned to handle it. And thank whatever higher power you believe in that I've found this. I've been an angry girl most of my life. Incredibly angry. Angry or sad. And what I've learned is that angry and sad are almost exactly the same emotion. Next time you get so angry at someone, ask yourself what it is that motivates that anger. Fear. Sadness. Learning to recognize this has saved my ass. I can count on one hand the number of times I've screamed at LLCM. (I can't believe I'm calling her that.) My poor ex, though. My God. I was so scared, so insecure...I just had no idea how to handle it. And now when I simply walk away from LLCM or back down when I don't want to, I am infinitely aware of times I didn't do the right thing in the past. But ya know, I can't change the past. Wishing it doesn't make it so. How is it that two years can change a person so?

I had an absolutely horrible dream last night. I was killing people. It was a really bad Jason movie. A really bad LONG Jason movie. I can't remember a lot of details. I just remember it started with someone behind a curtain with a big knife and the noise "ree-ree-ree-ree"...you know the noise...I can't spell it. Finally, in the end I threw one of the boys off the bridge and he splatted on the ground. The other one I pushed and pushed and pushed until he was on the ground somehow. Then I kicked him in the head a bunch. I stood there for awhile to make sure both were dead. (You know how in those bad movies, the villian always comes back to life. Not in my dreams!) There was also something about a little girl that was part of the 'killing team' managed by parents (not necessarily hers). Anyway, I was very disturbed. Of course, since it was 4am, I had to go to the bathroom, and the whole time I was in there I was convinced there was someone/thing behind the shower curtain. Then I went back to bed and LLCM had left the closet door open. (Side note: LLCM always leaves the closet door open. The ex had to have closet doors closed at all times. I now like it that way. I mean, really, do I need to see what's in the closet while I'm in bed? I think not.) When it was time to get up for work I was in a horrid mood. I didn't want to talk. At all. And for the most part, I didn't. Until about 9am. I don't know why I get so weirded out about dreams.

Two nights ago I dreamed about one of my best friends in high school, Madison. I lost him shortly after graduation, and I've looked for him several times, to no avail. I've missed him for a long time. We were pretty much inseparable. It's my understanding that we were *ahem* doing 'stuff' in his back seat. I don't seem to recall any of this, but some fellow students seemed to know about it. W~. We didn't care. At least I didn't. I mean, geez...could they not decide? There was also the rumor that I was.... gay. *gasp* Ha! How funny. One guy at my school was SO stupid he actually wrote on my gf's bookcover "Ruby* is being gay with Dawn".

*The name has not been changed to conceal her identity. I think she knows that she is gay and once dated me. I'm pretty sure, anyway. However, it wasn't us. You can't prove anything.