Me n BigShow were a pair once. Well, not the way you're thinking...

But we used to be half-face people at one time. A while back I noticed he changed his profile picture to the one where he's wearing the winter hat. Now he's got a picture with some other guy in it.

We are no longer the half-face people anymore. His face is just better than mine now, because he no longer has a half-face. His face is whole, and mine is alone. Oh sad day.

I think it would look pretty weird if you put our two half-faces together.

My mother.

I've told people I hate her, and that's not true.

I've told people that she's crazy. This is true.

My grandmother is crazy too. When my mother was a child, my grandma treated her horribly. She locked her in closets, didn't feed her, and kicked her out of the house several times from a young age. My mother has been in several foster homes as a child. She's had a drug and alcohol problem since she was about 14. She first got pregnant when she was 15 with my father. They got all the way until the end of the pregnancy and my mother was in labor. She was in labor for 24 hours before the doctors realized something was wrong. It turns out that my mother's pelvic bones are inverted, and every time she pushed, she pushed the life out of her baby. Their child died. My mother had the rest of her children as C-sections. My mother got pregnant with me was she was about 17, and had me when she was 18.

My parents were separated when I was one, and divorced a short time later. For years I barely saw my mother. She would promise me that she would come pick me up and I would spend the weekend with her. I would wait by the window for her. She would never show up. My father made excuses for her. She didn't show up at any of the custody hearing either, so my father was awarded sole custody by default.

Throughout the years as a child, I built my mother up to something that later in life, I realized she was not. Things weren't so good at my father's house for me, and whenever I was with my mother it felt like a haven, a safe place. I didn't realize it was just the same. I'm not sure on who's watch it was that I was molested, my mother's or my father's.

When my mother met her current husband, she changed. I didn't know it at the time, of course. She became clean and sober for years. When I went to live with her in the 10th grade, the mother I thought she was became a ghost. She started doing cocaine again.

For a very long time, I held onto the hope that she would change. Someday, she would be better. She's lived a life of denial. She wraps drugs and alcohol around her problems and wraps denial around drugs and alcohol. She's never dealt with her childhood.

In her suffering, she's made her family suffer immensely. She used to be so beautiful. In a room full of women she was usually the prettiest. Now that she doesn't do cocaine anymore but drinks, her body is fat and her face is the bloated splotchiness of an alcoholic. She's given up on life.

I went over to her house yesterday after work to spend time with my youngest sister and meet their new kitten. Everything was fine.

Tonight my sister had a friend coming over to spend the night. Before her friend got there, I was told that her friend had been raped a month ago. Apparently she had been babysitting and the husband had come home and raped her. She got to the house and everything was fine.

A couple hours later, my mother came up to me and said "we need to talk." I could smell the alcohol on her breath. I didn't look at her. "What is it mom?" She told me that I needed to go talk to my sister's friend about being raped. She thought that I could help this girl because I had been molested. I told her no, I would not do that. It's very inappropriate to start that kind of conversation with someone you met 2 hours ago. That kind of experience is a very deep, personal thing, and you do not go up to a stranger and start talking about it. If she had told me about the rape herself, that's a different story and I would have told her my story and helped her any way I could.

My mother kept going on about it. Then she started telling me that I was very smart and that I was destined to help people. I claimed I was tired and went to bed. She started yelling at my step dad about something and then she came into my room and wanted me to drive her somewhere. I asked her where, and she said into town (they live in the country). I asked her what she needed. I knew she wanted to go to the liquor store, but I wanted to hear her say it. She finally admitted what she wanted, and I told her no, I would not enable her. She literally begged me. "Please. Please, Crystal, please." I felt horrible. I did not want to be in that conversation. I did not want to be there, in that room.

She finally left. I don't know if she drove drunk, or if my step father ended up driving her. I packed up my things and told my sister that I was leaving. She said, "Fine, just leave like R." (R is our other sister) "I'm sorry, I just can't sit here while she begs me to drive her to the liquor store. I just can't." I hugged her tight and almost started crying.

I left.

I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I JUST FUCKING HATE IT.

I just want to scream at the world it's not fair it's not fair it's not fair it's not fair IT'S JUST NOT FUCKING FAIR. It's unfair that my sister has to live like that. It's unfair that this happens. Sometimes I wonder why. Why me? Why us? Normal doesn't exist, but sometimes I want it. I crave it so badly it makes my heart ache.

The highway and world was cloaked in darkness covered by stars and headlights. I drove in a trance. I did not cry a single tear.

My mother has caused me so much pain in my life. Mostly they're just scars now. But they are scars that still rip open and bleed sometimes.

Sometimes I wonder how my mother feels when she treats us the way she does. Does she say cruel and hurtful things then lock herself in a room and cry? Does she feel bad?

Maybe tonight she was asking me for help. Maybe. But how do you begin to help someone when they are shrouded in denial? How could I help her when I can barely help myself?

I love my mother. But she needs to stop this.

I feel guilty for leaving.

I am SO pissed.

I started watching Eastwick on ABC, and I think it's a GREAT show. I tried watching the latest full episode, which I was unable to do. Come to find out, ABC is canceling it!!! I'm so upset, I was really getting into it. UGH. People were saying CW might realize its potential and pick it up...and I hope so. I love the characters on that show.

Maybe if they would have advertised it like they did with V, it would have done better.

Fucking idiots.

About a year and a half ago, I took a course in college. Creative Writing. Since this was a technical college, this type of degree isn't offered there. This class was offered only once every other semester, not including the summer semesters. I happened to catch it. The class was full at the beginning, but as always, there was people that ended up dropping or doing whatever that constituted them not being there.

We had 2 books that were required for the class. One was a book strictly on creative writing, the other was an anthology were we read most of the stories for the assignments. It was called: An Anthology for Writers: A Garden of Forking Paths. It's full of short stories of different kinds of writing; there's also a section of poetry. My favorite was the experimental writing.

I recently found this book while unpacking my things. Just seeing it makes me crave writing. I'm going to start by reading any story in this book that interests me. I'll read a little bit of the story, and if I'm not feeling it, I'll move on. Hopefully by the end it will have jump started my muse.

I'll let you know if I come across anything exceptional that moved me.

Okay, so I'm somewhat of a Xanga Whore. But, I'm not the only one, Dan loves whoring the word "Xanga" more than I do! It's okay though, no bad feelings whatsoever. We all just love it here so much!

Anyway, enough talk of whoremongering...

It was some odd weeks ago, SerenaDante hosted a Xanga TV on her page. I think at any given time, there was at least 37 or so fellow Xangans chatting with Smaranda. I had heard that the last XTV she hosted, she stripped!  She warned beforehand that this time, there probably wouldn't be any stripping I was excited, because XTV is probably my favorite feature here; I think it's a great way for all of us to communicate and get to know each other. Unfortunately, I don't get to see many because I work second shift =[

Anyway, it was sometime during her XTV that I realized I had devoloped my very first Xanga Crush! The topics of the evening included a tutorial on how to check yourself for breast cancer, and various sex toys. If you don't know, SerenaDante is one of two top bloggers on xanga that post about sex topics (that I know about anyway). I would highly recommend checking out her blog, because a lot of times she provides useful information about sex, sex toys, positions, and random other topics. You can also message her questions about sex and she will answer them in a post. If you prefer, she will leave your name out of it in case you don't want anyone to know who the question came from.

The reasons Smaranda is my xanga crush are these:

She's a very open-minded person and doesn't discriminate
She's one of the sweetest people ever
She's super cute and sexy
She's very giggly and laughs a lot

There are more reasons, but I don't wanna sit here gushing!

Smaranda hasn't been posting and commenting as much lately because she's busy with school and other things, which is totally understandable. I still try and catch her posts whenever I can. I asked her a few questions, because I didn't want this to be an ordinary xanga crush post...

I think you've said this before in your blog, but what are you going to school for?
Like, my major? I'm double majoring in Political Science and Linguistics. Wooh!

What is your favorite class this semester? Why is that?
Probably my Modern Political Thought course, because it's an intro one and therefore super easy.

Since it's coming up on the holiday season, do you celebrate Christmas? And if you do, what is your most favorite gift you've ever received?
I do, though not as a religious thing... Just as a gift-giving thing =D I think my most favorite gift I've ever received would have to be the love from my friends and people! Haha. Although if we're talking material, probably my iPod...

What is your favorite color?
Scarlet ;D

Do you have a favorite quote that you live by? What is it?
Carpe diem.

What is your favorite food that you absolutely love, but you feel guilty every time you eat it?
Hmm... probably pizza? I LOVE pizza... It's that food where I'll just keep eating even when I'm stuffed because I love it so much... Hahaha.

You are one of 2 top bloggers on the topic of sex; what is your favorite sexual position?
Shout out to missionary! Because I like never get it.

If you're interested, she provided a link to her top 5 positions.

And now, here's some photos of the lovely lady =]

I know this post is very long, forgive me. If you have the time, please read it =]

Before I knew I was a lesbian, I fell in love. I fell really hard, and it bruised me for years.

About 4 or 5 years ago, I was working at this place. It was the worst job ever. This temp walked in and changed my life. His name was M. At first, I just thought he was really cute. After a few months of working together, we started flirting back and forth. He threw paper clips and rolled up balls of paper at me, aimed the office stapler at me and bombarded me with staples. He got to know me and my moods so well. And would always try to cheer me up whenever I was sad or depressed. We talked quite a bit all the hours we worked side by side.

Somehow, I don't remember how, but we exchanged phone numbers while we worked together. We would text each other sometimes. After about 8 or 9 months or so, he found a better job and quit. We continued talking. We texted a lot. It got to the point that we would talk on the phone for hours. So many hours we talked. At least once a week we would talk for at least an hour at a time, late at night. Often I would be laying in bed talking to him, so tired, but not wanting to give him up.

When I realized I was in love with him and it wasn't just a crush, I was so upset that I didn't speak a single word for 2 entire days. You see, I had never been in a relationship at that point, and I was 19 or 20. Also, I think in the back of my mind I knew I never had a chance with him. We were still working together, and he knew something was wrong with me. He tried to get me to laugh, but I couldn't. I knew he was relieved when I finally snapped out of it.

Anyway, every time he called me, I was eager to hear his voice. I was happy to get a text from him. For a couple days after talking to him, I walked on a cloud. The smile never left my face. We talked about anything, everything, and nothing. Nothing not meaning silences, but nothing as in the things we talked about didn't matter in the sense of life. We told stories about co workers, we talked about our hopes and dreams, what we wanted to do with our lives. Talking to him gave me a euphoria like nothing else. I kept my mouth shut about how I felt about him.

Throughout the time, I think I made him into something he would never be: my knight in shining armor. That someday we would be together and he would be gentle with me because of my childhood and he would save me from myself. I wanted it so much. I dreamed about it.

After a while, we talked less and less. He never answered my calls, and he never texted me back when I texted. Our relationship was strictly on him terms. I always answered his calls and eagerly texted him back.

But M was a depressed person, an alcoholic. Many times when I talked to him, he was tipsy or drunk. He was never happy with himself. But deep down, I knew he was a good person. Don't they say you can tell a man's character by how he treats his mother? I never met her, but I could tell he treated his mother very well, and he loves her very much. He's half Italian, and family is very important to him. I could tell whenever he talked about his family, he loves them all very deeply.

He was a scarred man. He had dated this woman for a few years, they had bought a townhouse together. He proposed to her, and in his words, "she freaked out." I asked him what that meant, but he never explained what exactly happened, and the subject was never breached again. He's never trusted another woman again like that.

One night, he called me and he was talking about committing suicide. It scared me so bad. I tried talking to him and talking to him, trying to talk him down. He kept talking crazy. He was drunk, and I was begging and pleading him not to do anything. He said, "well, you don't have to worry about it anymore." And he hung up on me. I tried calling him and calling him and I didn't know what to do. I didn't know where he lived.

That night I didn't sleep. I cried. I was scared. I kept a vigil over my phone. Waiting. The next day when I went to work, I got fired. I tried calling him again. He didn't answer. I left him a message telling him that I had been fired. Thankfully, he called me back a couple hours later. He was okay, and I was so relieved.

Anyway, one night, I drank half a bottle of tequila and called him. He actually answered, imagine that! I told him how I felt about him. Me and my fat, stupid mouth. Fucking tequila. After that night, nothing was the same ever again. We talked less and less. I was lucky to get a phone call once a month.

Well, I haven't seen him in about 2 years, and I haven't talking to him in about 8 months. For years, I had stupidly kept my dream about us, hanging on his every word, tearing my heart up every time I talked to him. I tortured myself for so long. I kept that dream alive for so long.

The reason I did it was because I knew that he felt something more than friendship with me. He already had a best friend that was a girl, so there was no reason to talk to me like he did. I knew because he told me things that I know he didn't tell many people, if anyone. I knew it from the way he said things to me, the tone of his voice. I knew it in my soul. That night with the tequila, I was sick of waiting. One of the last times he talked to me, he had bought a really nice, new house and he was having a party. Instead of hanging out with his friends, he was in his bedroom, talking to me on the phone.

That's on my 21st birthday. He's much more good looking in person. His eyes are fucking amazing. They're green, and they change colors. This is the only picture I have of him. He always said he hates pictures because he doesn't take good ones.

I think I know why he stopped talking to me. One time, he gave me a mixed cd that he had made for me. Almost every song on it was a sad rock song about someone not feeling good enough for someone else. I think he felt like I was a good person and he didn't want to taint me with his past and his depression. He felt like he wasn't good enough for me. That or even though he cared about me, he would never date someone as fat as me. I don't know. I made a mistake the night I opened my drunken, fat mouth. One that I can never take back.

I've cried so many tears over him. So many.

I still worry about him. So here I am, Blogging World, baring my soul for all of you to read. Why am I doing this? Because I wanted someone to know just how much I loved him. Because no one really knew. My chest still hurts when I think about him.

Okay, so I've been debating what to do now. Someone once mentioned that it's difficult to write a post after a successful one. I mean, I have a whole bunch of new friends and subscribers..what if they don't like what I write?! Omg it's stressful.

Anyway, yesterday I had a bad hair day. It was terrible. You know your hair pretty much decides whether you're pretty or not for the day. So yesterday I didn't feel pretty.

However, it did make me feel better that I would never have a bad hair day such as this


Googling "crazy hair," I found a lot of crazy things. This one, however, I thought was frickin awesome:


I like the one on the left. The colors are freaking amazing!!!

I just took some photos of my new house with my phone, but I won't be able to get them up today, sorry guys =[

Not much else to say...it's a rainy, icky day late in October in Minnesota!!