To be heard

People need people. There's a small percentage that would rather die alone than be with anyone, but don't we all just want to be heard?

It's simple. People also need other things. Food, water, oxygen, sex, etc. But people need another person to be a cushion, a shoulder to cry on, a crutch. Self-explanatory? Yes. Easy to come by? Not exactly. What if the human race had no way of communicating to one another? Set aside any possibility of humans creating some machinery to fix that. Just picture it. What would life be like? It's hard to imagine, but I know for sure that I wouldn't know what to do with myself. Growing up under a Scottish roof, I'm used to just saying whatever I feel, but in moderation. Using manners and discretion, I obviously know what not to say and when not to say it.

It's been refeshing to be able to talk to someone that will just listen, without judgment, and give unbiased advice or input. I mean, think of it this way. You just had a unbearably messed up day at work, you come home and your cat or dog just took a big old Mcdumpster on the carpet. But no one's around to even hear your angry rant of colorful vocabulary and endless complaints about why this would happen to you. Would you want to keep your anger to yourself? Or would you want to someone to just hear and confirm your pissed off beyond imagination?

A long weekend has just ended for me, a weekend that wasn't meant to be anything big or even remotely memorable. Things just happened, and it's easy for me to get caught up in the frustration and the excitment. I haven't had a chance to dwell on how my car suddenly stopped working. I didn't get a chance to because I had people there to just listen. They understood my frustration and they didn't say anything to push me further into insanity or to make me feel guilty by saying "It could be a lot worse." The word "refreshing" is the ideal word to use here and also an understatement. There are quite a few people I could call up at any time to just vent whatever recent problem I'm having to. I'm definetly not the unluckiest person to walk the earth.

Meeting new people can go two ways: awkwardly or the best time of your life. Example: It's your best friends birthday and their having a party. You know a handful of people and you're having an okay time. You meet your best friends cousin, whom your best friend says you would totally hit it off with them. You introduce yourself and start talking. You find out about fives minutes into your conversation that your best friends cousin is your ex's best friend. Small world? Yeah, sure. Try awkward, uncomfortable, just bizarre. But it's easy to meet someone who can be the greatest friend you'll ever have. And it's all for a reason. You know you've meet a great person when you can drive for hours just bullshitting and listening to the radio. I'm not talking romance here, pal. I'm talking pure, non-love related, compatability right now. This person could be talking about themselves the whole time, and you don't care because the two of you are just on the same level of understanding. It's unsaid and unnessary to bring it up. Why can't everyone just listen to each other? We all just really want to be heard, right?

You know someone who has a grandparent with a serious medical problem? Or someone who just can't get out of the rut their more recent ex left them in? Yeah, sure you've probably got enough problems of your own to deal with. Why should you listen to someone complain about how bad they feel when you've got enough on your on plate? That's the mindset that sets certain people apart. Talking and listening go hand in hand. To listen to someone means to help another, and usually they return the favor if you relate something from your experience to their topic. Relating will do wonders. Even if it only relates by a sliver. It still makes a difference.


Now, if you feel like you have absolutely no one to even talk about your terrible day at work, or your current argument with your boyfriend or girlfriend, I'm not offering a service, like a dating service. I'm simply offering an ear. I'm not chopping my ear off and sending it to you in the mail. That's surely illegal. I can relate to someone who doesn't have that one person they can talk to about anything. But I also know what it is to have just one person who hears everything. That person that won't get overly creeped out because I just told them I'm feeling bloated or something awkward like that.

Blood and Water

Okay, I'm going to ramble for a bit here. Following up from my last note about my family and I moving to Waterford for reasons that were already explained.

How do I start this?

Well, I wish I could tell you that everything's fantastic now that my family and I are completely settled in. But I'd be lieing if I did. Really, my mom, dad, and brother are probably doing much better than I am. Me on the other hand, I just feel so stiffled in this house.

My Aunt Michelle and Uncle Brandon moved to North Carolina a bit ago and due to the sucky economy (yay America), no one was buying their house. Conveniently, my family and I lost OUR house not too long after (again, yay America). I can't thank my Aunt and Uncle enough for what they're doing for us; letting us stay in this house while we get back on our feet. So please, Aunt Michelle, don't take offense of this note because in no way do I mean to inflict pain on anyone.

We moved into my Aunt and Uncle's old house, which is a great house by the way. My brother and I used to house-sit this house whenever my Aunt and Uncle would go out of state. I used to love it here, Robert and I would play Wii all day and slowly evolve into couch potatoes while their dogs, Riley and Lucy chased the non-existent squirrel outside. But after all the shit hit the fan, this house feels hollow. It's as if this certain house was specifically designed to remind me of everything my family's lost. I find myself wanting to leave this damn place more often than I want to be safe at home. I know it hurts my mom, dad, and robert, and I think about how much it hurts them when I stay someplace else. It hurts me too. But instinct tells me that cooping is easier when I'm out in my comfort zone, which is either Allen Park or somewhere near there. As soon as I see the familiar buildings of Allen Park, I always sigh in relief; as if all the nights that I wondered "Why the hell is this happening?" didn't happen. I can relax and pretend that everything was the way it used to be.

In this house, I feel like all I can do is procrastinate. My creativity is almost stiffled because however many times I attempt to sketch or draw, there's so much on my mind that I have to really really force myself to even touch the pencil to the paper. I usually don't even get that far. And it's a shame because this house didn't even stand a chance after we lost ours.

But I'm not going to just piss and moan throughout this note. Day by day, I'm getting over this miniscule personal problem partially because it's ridiculous. But more because I know I shouldn't be focusing on everything I've lost or what my family as a whole has lost. It's a hard thing to swallow because if I think about it, I could write a book about how many things (non-physical) that I've lost personally. Though I think about this more than I should, I'm going to get over it. I'm sure. But I've noticed that my world as I knew it last year, has changed forever in less than a year.

I'm sorry, I meant to just ramble and I'm starting to whine. Hah, but the whole point of this entire thing was to kind of let the public know that my family and I aren't broken and crippled. We're actually healing from the minor wounds, however painful they were, and we're going to be stronger than we ever were. We're given the chance to restart and begin something bigger. We were backed up by family and friends and I know I can speak for my mom, dad, and brother when I say thank you, from the bottom of our hearts. It really is true, "Blood is thicker than water".

Because I'm Voicing My Opinion

For those of you who don't know, I'm moving to Waterford. It's for reasons I'm not going to openly broadcast to the public. But I will, however, say that the reason for this move is simply the sign of the times. Although I'm moving on from the devastation of so much change crammed into only 3 or 4 months, I'm trying to warm up to the new chapter in my life that I'm just starting. Devastation may sound like I'm just being overdramatic. Well, I'm not. I'm not trying to, at least. When I use that word, I literally mean I was devastated from the big, heaping pile of stinking change slopped right in front of me.

I wish there was another word for "stress" because I've used that word so much these past few months that it sounds too repeditive. All the pressure put on the family has definetly made it's presence known. Our bickering is our way of dealing with everything. I find myself constantly trying to get something accomplished but there's so much I need to get done that I can't concentrate on just one thing. Naturally, nothing gets done after that. WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?

I came up with a concept earlier today while ranting to my mom about this very subject. Our house is like an electrical outlet; we have multiple extension cords spraying out in so many directions; our connections we've made throughout our lives (doctors office, high school, elementary school, work, relatives, every single friend). Now, our outlet is moved to a much further and inconveneint place. But we can't just cut our cords. So we have to stretch them until we can't anymore. It's so much more work because now we have to work around that distance just to live our lives like we would normally. Because life goes on, it won't stop just because something happened in our little lives.

I've talked with my mom, I've talked with my dad, I've talked with my brother and my sister. The conclusion that I've come to with each and every one I've talked to is this:
"Everything happens for a reason."
Wow, cliche right? Yeah, so? Whatever. But really, I can't think of anything else to help explain why this is happening to my family. I'm sure there are other families that have gone through this that are just as decent and polite as we are, but we are polite, honest, and hardworking people. I'm finding myself questioning this entire country and it's way of "living freely". That "everything happens for a reason" quote explains everything. It has to, or I don't have a clue in the world why this is happening.

"It could be worse" How many times have I heard that one? So true. But, in my position, and in MY life, I felt (and still kind of do feel) like it couldn't (and can't) get any worse; that this was (and is) the worst thing to happen to me. No, I'm not living out of a box or anything; that would be the realisticly worst case scenerio. My family and I are damn lucky to have the back up from our relatives. Blood is really thicker than water. Obviously, countless other Americans have delt with this change. I don't know how they cooped with it, or if they even came out alive. I'm not wallowing in self-pity, but I still can't get over how terribly hard it is to move on from a place I lived my entire life in. I'm being ripped away from a save haven; a place that housed not just me and my family, but my love, my life, my memories; a place I've always came home to at the end of the day since birth. My home was a place I would think about during school when I was having a bad day; I'd think if I could just get through today, I'd be on my way to my home where no one can upset me, annoy me, or piss me off. That's what a home is supposed to be. This is my home, it has always been my home, and it will always be my home.

I'm 99.99% sure this house that is, by the way, over 165 years old, will be knocked down simply because whoever makes big desicions like that takes one look at this house and says "nah, too much work. too much money." Well, who the hell are they to say that? This house is not just a place I slept in throughout my entire 18 year old life. It's a rother mucking piece of history. There are pictures of this house with freaking horse and buggies outside of it. Yeah, swallow that one without any water. Because as soon as that person decides they're too lazy to fix it up, they'll sell it to someone who will knock it down and make room for something modern and convenient. But isn't that what this whole country is about now? Convenience? Yeah. Peachy keen jelly bean.

What I'm trying to get at is how easily it is to get sucked up in the idea that "everything sucks camel youknowwhatz". I'm not letting myself get that way. In fact, I'm going the opposite direction. I'll try my best to let go of how unfair life actually is right now. I'll try my best to move on from the only home I've really ever known, because no matter how much I feel sorry for myself, it's not going to change anything. I can see how easy it is to slip down that hill. I can't. I won't. Hell, I'll definetly voice my opinion. And yeah, I'll probably say how banks suck and how greedy every person with tons of money is. I can promise I'll let anyone who wants to hear how much I hate what's happened hear. But my life is literally just beginning. I guess it's a better change to start everything totally and completely over. Right? But I know my heart will always be buried under the floor boards of the old farm house in a small city that no one really knows about. No matter what is built on top of this piece of land, my heart will remain there until I die. I will always remember my home sweet home.

Beginners Stuck

A writer is not exactly what I would lable myself. I don't write for a living, and I don't plan to. 12 years of private schooling involves all 12 years of english, too. After learning and relearning the same things over and over, even I started to learn something about writing. I've never been consistant with a diary and I just recently stopped writing in a cheap dollar store notebook that I bought just to write down exactly what I was thinking any moment I felt necessary. So, basically, I'm not consistent with writing period.

But lately, I'm starting to realize that it might be good for me. I don't care who reads whatever I post here, or why. I'm leaving it up to any readers to decide on either reading my blogs and attempting to understand whatever it is I'm trying to say, or to overlook any hidden or underlying meanings behind my blogs and thinking I'm just another blogger. But when I really think about it, techincally, I am just another blogger.

I've written a few notes on Facebook over the past few months or so, and since I really can't think of anything I'd like to write about, I'm hoping by taking those past notes and putting them on here would get my brain flowing. Who knows?