Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Frustration Analysis

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I will NOT let myself get overturned by my want to be angry right now...my rationale for anger is slightly pertinent, but then so is the opposition. I am NOT a victim, I'm a human being...I am one to act, and I will decide my emotions, not let them run away with me. Explanation:

I come home...things are fun. I have a fun night with my sister and some of her friends the first night. Second night, I sleep at my parent's house. Dad tries to strike up an argument come night 2 at my parents' abode, but I go through the same relaxing cycles that I'm trying to do right now, and, while I would have gotten angry under any other circumstance, I managed to not let myself get so. Tonight is night 3. My sister, who I hung out with on night 0 (since it was before my parents' house), called me and asked, it felt like expecting, me to drive up to Portland, and pick her up, and bring her back, all amidst eminent rush-hour traffic. I agreed, and my mom let me use the gas card she's going to let me borrow to put like...$15 of gas in the car. I drive to PDX, get my sister, and drive her back. As we pull into our little town "I want to go see if Allison is working," she says. Whatever...I can do that. Previously today I had received a phone call from Brett, no voice mail, so I've been trying to contact him all day. Sister's excuse for coming down south to my parents' house was so she could "Spend more time with us since she didn't have work today or tomorrow." Riiight....

So we get home, and she immediately asks if she can use my computer (there's a perfectly suitable laptop downstairs, but), I oblige her...again. "Just check your email though, I'm going to be right back after I eat, and I want to use my computer," I say. "Okay, thanks, Daaaad," she retorts sarcastically. I'm not going to let it get to me at this point though, remember?

I come back from eating, and she says "Mom wants us to go see *LITTLE BROTHER* down at the coffee shop (where he works). "I've already had coffee once today, driving up to get you," I said...I didn't want more coffee. "Well, then I'll go to see him," she said. "And use your car," she throws in there, sideways. "I've got plans tonight," I tell her. It's true! Brett and I were going to get together and possibly work on something for my portfolio, or I was going to go see friends in the next town over that I haven't seen in almost a year. "Well, I talked to Mom, asked her if I could borrow your car, and she said 'you mean our car.' It's not HIS car."

This pisses me off at 2 levels. 1) This is one of those behaviors that my dad used to do unhealthily often; Hang the fact that THEY had provided me with something that I value alot, and then say "no no no! It's OURS! We're just LETTING you use it! (you have to beg for it when you're at home, because when you're here, you're not an adult!)" Second, is the fact that my sister mentioned it, almost as if to rub it in my face. Heaven knows if she did it because she knew it'd anger me more, but it was said, and it definitely rubbed me in the exact wrong direction.

So here I am...this is the kind of thing that, say, 4 months prior, would have gotten me wound up like a spring, but I'm trying my hardest to just sit and relax, and wait it out...I really need to stop stewing about it, but I figured "Hell...I've got a blog, I'll get my feelings out in text, and maybe it'll leave me easier." So far, the cathartic effects of expressing myself are good, but I've still got a bit of pent up anger in my chest...it's the kind of anger that I know TOTALLY isn't good to keep around...it's from the same branch as my "holding a grudge" anger...I've never been one who had an easy time just letting things slide...I've been doing so good at it lately, and part of me just really wants to go off the handle...so bad. I won't, but I want to.

Above all else, I'm conscious of all of this now. I'm conscious of what it is, specifically, that's got me so bent, and that knowledge is stopping me from acting rashly or over-sensitively or out of desperation. It is in THIS that I have grown over the past few months. I'm more comfortable being human, but with that has come...not more tolerance, but more patience...yeah, that's got to be it. The awareness of the situation is also an extremely good thing too.

I'm still mad though. Eh...admitting there's a problem is the first step, then there's taking action to stop being angry. My acknowledgment of the issue is the first step and I'm still new at this whole thing, so if I DO vocalize my anger, it won't be without having first analyzed the situation.

Thursday, December 14, 2006

My Scrape With Death...

Okay...saying it was anything near a scrape with death is a horrendous over exaggeration, but it made for a cool title, right? Last night I was stressing a little bit...I had a figure drawing portfolio review tomorrow (today, actually in about 30 minutes), and I was short one piece....our teacher asked that we have around 15 finished drawings, I had about 14. I was, earlier complaining about how I none of my roommates were ever available for me to draw them (maybe I'm creepy, but I thought it would have been fun), so I called up a friend, and we were going to go to the art building, and she was going to shoot some photos of me, so I could do a self-portrait...I was pretty stoked. Beforehand we went to walmart and I got some props....i had always wanted some gun props, so I got a two-pack of these fun little cap guns and some spray paint for another art project....those pistolas would make my evening a....sanguine one.

My friend and I get to the Art building, and find a room in which we can adjust the lighting, move some tables etc and get some fun pictures. Only problem is the skill with which those stupid little cap guns were mounted to their cardboard backing. Long story short, I borrowed an x-acto knife from a girl up there (it was actually REALLY rusty), and proceeded to open this packaging, breaking all my eagle-scout training, as most people do when opening silly packaging like that. One fell slip of the hand, and I had a nice, deep 2-inch gash on my left thumb, and the rate at which it was bleeding was pretty remarkable. My friend rushed me to the hospital, we get me checked into the emergency room, and more than the pain, and the fact that I just cut myself with a rusty implement, I was pissed that I was going to have to, possibly, get a tetanus shot...and due to me watching too many movies, was under the impression that I was going to get stitched up without any kind of anesthetic...silly WWII movies.

The experience was actually all quite fast and smooth. The nurses and doctors all said that they were pretty busy, but seeing as how there were a total of 4 people in the waiting room, waiting for loved ones to be released (my friend included), I questioned the amount of action the ER had seen that evening. All in all, aside from the little sum that this is going to cost my parents' insurance, and my throbbing left thumb (5 stitches, in case you were curious), it was actually pretty entertaining. It could have been my body going into shock, or the adrenaline, but I totally took charge, making sure my friend knew exactly what she needed to do. Thank goodness my mom's a nurse, and taught me what to do in such a situation...usually I'm pretty weak-stomached around blood, but desperate times, right?

Oh! When I called my mom, it was actually really funny...the first question she asked me was "which hand was it!?" because she knows how furious I'd be if it were my right (drawing) hand. "It was my left, mom, I can still draw" "Okay, good" she breathed. I love my mom and her concern for that which I find genuinely important. She's the greatest woman alive.

Right now, my hand is still wrapped in a green, dinosaur bandage (the kind they wrap your arm in after donating blood), and I can finally take the thing off tonight at around 9 and clean it. Showering 1-handed was a definite adventure today....

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

They Burned the Bridges, Not Me

I haven't posted here in ages. Partially because I haven't wanted to share all the intimate details of my life with everybody in the blogosphere. I might be pretty open with my writings here, but I'll keep this last little while at least relatively private.

Today, two bridges were burned...other people decided that carrying on communication with me simply wasn't important. I could care less. One was an "ex-boyfriend" if you can even call him that. I asked him for a simple favor that took no effort on his part whatsoever, and reprimanded me for it. He works at a place, and can get a discount...I was under the assumption that we were on good terms, but I guess I was wrong. I asked him if I could make use of his discount, and he essentially crapped a pink brick, via text messages....how quaint (I'm SO tempted to just cancel my texting service). With the advent of technology, I've learned that not only others, but myself as well, have become increasingly cowardly in our communication. Now it can be more convenient to break up with, or tell someone off via text in MSN or on your damn cell phone. I really don't have room to speak, as I can attribute my typing skills to hours and hours of talking via instant messengers, but the increasing cowardice and text-based drama is more than I'd expect to read in a cheesy $4 bodice ripper novella.

I don't hate myself anymore. Go me. I'm a human being. Deal with it. I finally do.

I have become content to not lock myself in an iron cage of "need to do perfect," and have found that in releasing myself from restraint, have expanded my creativity in areas that would have been otherwise untouched. I've let myself slack, stopped kicking myself in the balls for doing it, and things couldn't be better.

As a result, I've tried dating...all cases thus far have been nothing close to success, but I'm gaining experience. I recently ended an extremely intimate relationship because I just wasn't feeling right in it. I'll go so far as to say I felt as if I were using the other person...he liked me FAR more than I liked him. That wasn't fair to him, and it wasn't fair to me. I ended the relationship, and haven't looked back since. Dang I'm getting good at this living without regrets stuff.

The other asshat who crossed my path, and set fire to her connection to me is one who I used to call friend and confidante. In a spat we had, say...a month ago, or so, she decided to use some choice four-letter expletives, command form, in conjunction with my name, thus defaming, and essentially spitting on it. Friendship, at this point, was over, irreparable, and wouldn't be cultivated any further. Someone willing to deface my name, my artwork, or belittle my mother aren't worth keeping around. If she were willing to grant me an apology for pissing on my name, I'd walk away, and have no ill feelings, just the chance for continued friendship was gone for good....well, today, she yet again refused to grant me that small and, apparently difficult recompense, and was so mature as to end the conversation with exactly the same phrase "*&^% PECULIAR MORMON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" She typed, vigorously, I'm sure, and proceeded to block my name from her MSN list. Imagery of a small child wearing a cowboy hat, riding on a stick-horse and sticking out her tongue came to mind...immature. That's the only imagery I had. This girl could NOT be serious. THANK YOU for that trip back to grade school, un-friend!

So all this hubbub has me in quite the mood right now. You can probably tell, because I'm being a little bit more descriptive, acrid and wordy than usual...or at least that's what it seems like to me. A little acidity goes a long way for my writing...maybe I should bank on it, and write my novel only when I'm angry? No...because it'd all be so acrid, that it'd HAVE to be some political commentary or something in which my true spite could shine through.

Okay, spite isn't the right word for that sentence, but I really don't feel like changing it. I'm entirely content with and confident in you, the reader's intelligent ability to come up with some equally explanatory imaginary word.

It's good to write. I just wish I could draw what I want to right now. I've had this imagery of a ranger (think Aragorn from the Lord of the Rings), riding an elk with a pet raven on his shoulder....I've got the imagery in my head, but drawing elk is just a pain in the butt. Maybe I'll be able to putter it out during Christmas brake.

My right foot hurts from silly Jazz dancing. With the advent of finals on the horizon, I've been placed in a group of 3 girls and myself, in charge of choreographing a 2 minute dance for my Beginning Jazz dance class. Now, under normal circumstances, I'd LOVE to choreograph a dance for something like this...but the problem I run into is the lack of creative control. I'm entirely willing to make compromises in my creativity, but when I have a second party second-guessing my every dance step, it starts getting on my nerves. And it's not so much her second guessing, it's just her...picky nature. Example: I had choreographed a decent chunk of dance, and then it was her turn to choreograph (which, in my opinion wasn't as good a bit as mine, but it was nice to not have to be in charge for a stint). After which she claims "okay, you have 16 counts to choreograph before the chorus of the song, and i want two 16 counts there," as if she had entire creative control over the piece? What if I wanted to do something in there...?

I am whining....WOW. I just realized how trivial this whole thing is. Nonetheless, we have to present our dance on Weds morn, and still have about a minute's worth of choreography to do. I've been busy working on my Illustration final (MUCH more important to me than a 1 credit dance class), and haven't been the most inspired to choreograph full body movement. I'll end up spending my evening tomorrow night, when I could be with a good friend, choreographing this silly dance for this silly class. There'll be time to hang out afterward, yeah, but the more time the better, right?

Another fun thing. Last.fm. VERY cool, using a method called "scrobbling," the client from this page can track your music listening preferences, and recommend new bands, very ala Pandora.com, only far more interactive, complete with friend lists, and detailed band biographies. Consider it the music snob's myspace launchpad.

Time for bed.