07:09 pm - The TeaCup Goodness - livejournal post

Hey Wifeypoo

I went to Whittard's today and took pictures of all of the teacups that we have the possibility of getting. I am sharing the pics with you so we can discuss and choose which we want to get for our shared teacups. Anyone else who wants to make comments can, too... but we don't have to listen. ;)



This is the rose teacup that we spotted online. It is prolly the most delicate and girly of the teacups. The lid is flat (it is the only one that is) and could potentially be used as a teabag holder. ('m stretching here.) It is, however, very pink. This might be a good or a bad thing, depending on perspective.

These next 2 are the same theme, (Nursery Rhymes) but different cups.



The 3 Little Kittens. The Other side has a picture of the mittens in a pile.



Polly Put the Kettle on. The other side has her getting biscuits ready for tea. These don't have flat tops. (I don't actually think it matters much.) They are all white, so will match no matter what our kitchen colour. These have matching bowls and teapots for both 1 and 2 servings of tea. There may actually be a whole line of matching stuff.

The next 4 are also a similar theme, called 'The Great British Brew'. They are bright and colourful, but all of them represent things that are distinctly British, which also may be a good or bad thing, depending on your perspective. All the other sides match the front, and say something about 'The Great British Brew'.



London Bridge. This cup is blue.



The Underground. This cup is also blue. Brighter than the London Bridge ones.



The Queen, Red cup. As though you couldn't tell that from the picture. ;)



Shopping. Yellow cup. As in bright yellow.

There you have them. It doesn't matter price-wise which we choose. They are all exactly the same price, as they are all on offer right now. So shall we discuss which ones we like? I have an idea (more a guess, really) which we might choose.

Hope your trip back from Albq was safe. Talk to you soon!

Danger, Will Robinson! Too Many Blogs!

I have spent my day transferring all of my old blogs from Myspace onto this blog. And I realised that I miss all of the people who read my Myspace blog and sent me comments. I'm not quite sure why it is harder to get people to read it here... perhaps the lack of reminder makes a difference. So, I have been thinking about a solution. Since it is harder for people to get to this family blog, I am going to start cross-posting my family blog to Myspace, and vice versa. Whatever is commented on Myspace I will transfer (don't worry... with no links back) to the comments of my family blog. I won't transfer any family blog comments to Myspace, though. I desperately miss everyone, but it is just too much for me to continue to have two separate blogs that I keep up with, as my lack of posting on Myspace shows. Maybe if they are one in the same, it will help. So as not to overwhelm anyone, I won't transfer the entire year's worth of blogs from the family blog onto Myspace. Just a few that I think are good. Plus the most current. Then I'll just cross-post, occasionally. So if anyone wants to read everything, there are going to have to go to come here. This family blog is the definitive spot for all of Amy's blogging from now on. On the same note, all of my old Myspace blogs have been moved over here, along with some of my LiveJournal Blogs. That explains why there are suddenly so many posts. I miss all you people so much. I want to touch base with all of you. Soon. So let's keep in touch, shall we?

02:29 pm livejournal post

So...

I want to talk about A.

I have been so good...I have not called her names or said nasty things or decked her or done any of those things that I actually do /think/ about doing.

I got to hear all about her pet name for me from Stephen's best friend's house mate, who is friends with her. She calls me bint, and Ashley brat. To everyone. As in that is what we are known as. bint and brat. She has done this, apparently, for long enough that when being spoken of, people have to use those terms in order to recognize who I am.

bint: an arabic word for daughter, and in the UK, a slang term for a woman who is unpleasant and domineering. Not a nice word AT ALL.

The best friend and housemate were having a housewarming party, to which Stephen and I were invited. A would be there. I wanted to go for a very bad reason... I wanted to show her up with my impeccable manners and haughty ignorance of her. I had visions of her feeling cut to the bone by the fact that I had so little care for her. I wanted to hurt her by being so bloody nice. But I knew I couldn't be friendly with her. I still can't.

Anyway, I decided to not go, because my reasons for wanting to go were shit. I told Stephen that he could go if he wanted, and he did. And then called me from the party and told me that he wanted me to come too. Honestly, I was glad. I had told him that I didn't care if he went... but I think I lied. Not on purpose, I didn't realize that I would end up feeling upset by it, but I was.

I kind of expected A to not be there, as I had told Stephen all of my reasons for deciding not to go... but she was. And I was terrified. Completely cowered by her... and it ticked me off so much. And one point in the evening, she brandished a knife in the room in front of me, not at me, but in the room, and I recoiled from her. And later she ran up to me, grabbed my hand, and drew a heart in lipstick on it. (Which she did to everyone except Stephen, so in that I wasn't singled out) I spent the whole time scared of her, my heart racing, and fuming for being scared.

She sent me a message on facebook afterwards. It has slowly turned into a conversation, as I cant seem to not respond without feeling rude. But the thing that gets me is that she wrote about me again, after the party, on her livejournal, in a public post, calling us bint and brat. Citing a conversation that she had with a friend about me (though it is not stated... and in my very defensive defense, its a new country, new water, new soap, and yes, she has fucking clearer skin than I do!) The link is here... you have to read the post and the comments.

I have NEVER called her anything but A. Even at my most angry, I never called her demeaning names and told all my friends what a such and such she is. And I am so very offended, and frustrated that there is nothing at all that I can think of to do that I am willing to do about it. I don't like to hate people... I don't even like the word hate... but she pushes all my buttons just the right way. Part of me really wants to confront her, get up in her face... but I never would. 1. It would serve no purpose, and 2. I don't want her to know that she gets to me like this.

I want to be a nice person. I want to be accepted by the people that Stephen hangs around with. But I feel as though she has taken all of them and poisoned them against me, and that there really is no point in even trying. So I'm sitting her whining to you all about it. *sigh*

09:19 pm - The Mood-Coaster - livejournal post

It was a truly busy day, what with a big test in calculus and tons of errands to run. And something about moving at such a tremendously frantic pace set the tone for the day. I couldn't hold still. I shook and jiggled and doodled and nibbled and anything else I could do to keep from holding still. I was just... antsy. Finally, after jiggling, wriggling, and doodling as much as I could bear, I begged Christine to go grocery shopping with me.

Did I need to go grocery shopping? Well.... yes and no. Yes, I was short on healthy food, out of fresh veggies entirely, no milk to be had. But no. This is my week of no kids... I could have made do. I prolly /should/ have made do, to be honest. But the draw of getting out and moving while doing something semi productive was worth it.

So we went to the store. Something about the store sucked my brain, had to go back to the produce department 4 times... 4 times! because I kept forgetting things. By the time we were done, I was done too. Stick a fork in me done. Exhausted like I had run a marathon done. Almost unable to talk coherently done. And now, less than an hour later, I have finally dragged ass to put the $55 worth of groceries away. I am so tired I want to just curl up in a a little ball and sleep. Make moan-y sounds at anyone who tries to wake me.

I feel like the graph of a sine wave. Up and down, up and down, check me and I repeat every 2π.

*sigh* I'm not even sure that actually made sense at all...

Current Mood: tired

08:28 am - Rough Night last night... livejournal post

Climbed into bed, sleepy and ready to snooze... and my brain starts going. A very vivid picture. I can't say I was entirely asleep, because I wasn't, so it wasn't a dream really... but maybe it was a little bit.

We were at the airport and I was having to say goodbye to Boo. I was having to leave him behind... and I started to cry. And I didn't stop. Crying became sobbing, became braying and howling with tears and snot dripping from my nose, wet face wet pillow wet neck. I went and held Boo in his bed until he muttered and moaned and pushed me away in his sleep. It wasn't enough. I cried and cried and cried... and I don't remember falling asleep. I don't remember stopping crying.

I think this is so sad because I know it is true. I know it is coming, that it will happen. And I know I'm doing the right thing for him and Ash and me... but I wonder if I am my mother, who left when I was 5 and never came back until I was a teen, who left me to be abused and battered and ruined as a kid.

I know I'm different. I know that I won't give up involvement in Boo's life. I know that I will talk to him and see him as often as I can and that he will NEVER stop being my son. I know that, in my perfect world, there would be no way I would leave him if I had ANY other option - and that fact, right there, makes me different than my mother. She COULD have taken us, but chose not to. I don't have a choice. He is not really mine.

In the end it will be better for him and me to take away the power of holding that fact over my head. If it is not something that can be used as a weapon, then he can't be caught in the middle. If I'm not so close to K, then we can't fight where he gets caught in the middle. He won't be so torn for us being too close and caught in this epic battle of who controls whom. And I need to cut the ties to being controlled by her and B more than almost anything else in my life. I need to stop letting them have that kind of power over me.

Maybe I am just seeking reassurance that I am doing the right thing. Maybe I just need to hear that I am not a horrible mom and that I am doing the right thing. And to have my hand held while I have to walk away from him at the airport. That will be the hardest day of my life, I think.

Sometimes it hurts how much I love my kids.

Current Mood: depressed

09:10 am - house update - livejournal post

It's too small, namely in the aspect of the bedroom that would be Ashley's. There are no bathTUBS in the house, only showers. Plus corners are rounded, the roof on the top floor slopes low onto the wall, and there is a tight spiral staircase to the upper levels. Stephen thinks it would be a problem getting furniture into it. It almost seems like they /tried/ to make as much space as possible unusable.

He said that there were no restrictions on children, but that the realtor guy said, "Are you sure the bedroom is large enough for a child's room?" He said that in and of itself was enough to raise flags. Obviously this place was not meant to be a family home, but that of a couple, sans children.

It's really really a shame, it was in the /perfect/ location, close enough to everything we could have wanted it to be close to.

Want pictures?

The small bedroom that would have been Ashley's. This is almost the entirety of the bedroom. small...



The kitchen, part of the living room, which is L shaped. The kitchen is just a bit bigger, but the white thing next to the black thing is the refrigerator. I am going to have some adjusting to do, as Stephen says this is the standard size of fridge that comes with homes there. We could put a bigger fridge in the corner behind the dinette there, but it isn't a corner, but is angled across.



See what I mean about strange space? This is the main bedroom on the top of 3 floors. And it is actually quite small also.

06:58 am - LAWYER (lawyerlawyerlawyer)...livejournal post

So my visit to the lawyer was yesterday.

You know how some people just like to talk and talk and talk and you can't even get a word in edgewise, until you are having to fight to keep your eyes in the general direction of their face just so they think you are still listening to them? You don't even have to make mm-hm noises because they are really to busy talking to hear you even if you did? That was this lawyer. Something that might have only taken 10 minutes (my questions were not hard) took 40, until I extracted myself from the situation and left him there still talking to me as I walked out the door and down the hallway. You can't say he wasn't very very very very /very/ friendly.

I don't remember if all of you know /why/ I went to see the lawyer, so a quick backtrack to catch everyone up. When I told B about my moving to England and taking Ash with me, he told me that he would not fight me only if I dropped the $50,000 he owes in back child support, and the $15,000 he owes in interest and penalties for not paying child support for 11 years. Ha! Not about Ash at all, only about the money.

So he has threatened to hire a lawyer to prevent my going an taking her. Now, I have sole custody of her, and my divorce decree states that I have the right to determine her legal domicile, but I really just want to be sure. I don't want any last minute obstacles. You know?

So I go to the lawyer at the University. He is free to students, of which I am one, and it seems like a pretty good deal. Here is what he spends 40 minutes telling me, over and over, while throwing in commentary and case law and past scenarios, some of which resemble mine and some of which I really have no clue where they came from at all.

*He cannot tell me anything for sure because he is a New Mexico lawyer, and this is a Texas matter.

*In New Mexico the judge would laugh at B.

*In New Mexico, it is not even an option to drop back child support, and I would be stupid to do so.

*He suspects I have nothing to worry about, but I might want to look into putting a Texas lawyer on retainer, so that if I go and B /does/ cause problems, then I already have a lawyer who knows the case and can interact with me via phone, to the point of my appearing in court via phone.

*All I have to do is be very careful to follow the /letter of the law/ as far as the divorce decree goes, and bring up to anyone who will listen that this matter is NOT about him wanting Ashley or about visitation, it is about MONEY.

It didn't even take me 40 minutes to write down what he said. ;)

So I'll be putting a Texas attorney on retainer, as soon as possible. And sending my change of address pursuant to section blah paragraph blah of my divorce decree to B and the court, certified mail, return receipt requested. And then I WILL NOT WORRY about it any more. I SWEAR.

Now onto more current topics...

Stephen is currently, right this minute, nownownow looking at a house for us. He said that he likes this one. I am so excited, he is supposed to be taking pictures and writing things down to share with me as soon as he gets home, but if he likes it enough, he is just going to sign for it. Housing is hard to come by, apparently, and sometimes decisions have to be made in a snap. There is no garden (UK for a yard) but that's ok. Wanna see it??? Here is a link: The House:

So I'm up much earlier than normal because of being too bloody excited to sleep. I can't wait to see it, hear what he has to say. Argh!

So much more I could talk about, but that's enough for now.

Current Mood: excited

08:12 am - what today looks like... livejournal post

B is a putz.

He has decided to be difficult. When I told him Ash and I were moving to England, he told me that he would only not fight me if I dropped the fees, penalties, and back child support that he owes. Telling me that it is not about wanting to keep Ashley here at all, but simply about the money.

I said no. He has controlled me in so many ways for so long, and I am actively working to get out of being controlled by him and K. And if I give into him on ANY LITTLE THING, anything at all, he wins. And I can't do that. Besides, is it my fault that he chose not to take care of his responsibility for 11 years and ended up $50000 in debt to the attorney generals office? No.

So he is talking to an attorney, apparently. Honestly, there is nothing he can do. She is 15, old enough to choose, and she wants to go. Add to that the fact that I have sole custody, and my divorce decree says that I get to choose where she lives...

I'm off to an attorney today, just to be safe.

It makes me really quite angry that he is pulling this, not because of the fact that he is causing problems, that seems to be one of his goals lately: to cause me problems. He is really angry and full of hating me. What makes me so angry is the fact that this is not about Ashley at all. He obviously doesn't care that I am taking her, being so willing to let her go if it hit his pocketbook right. So all of this subjecting her to being placed in the middle isn't in her best interests at all.

When I told Kim, I explained that I had looked at this from the sides of both kids, and told her I thought it was best. She turned to Ash and told her that /she/ would always do what Ashley /wanted/. As a parent, you can't afford to do that. There are times when what is best is not what is wanted, and you do it anyway. It is about what is in your kids' best interest.

As hard as it is to walk away from Boo, as much as I am not doing what he wants... it is in his best interest.

I guess the point is that I have two ex's, with whom I have children, who don't get the concept of what is best for the kids. Its all about what makes them look best in the kids eyes or what is best for the pocketbook.

I think I have done better this time.

Current Mood: determined

07:12 am - what love /really/ is - livejournal post

07:12 am - what love /really/ is

I say 'I love you' a lot. To a lot of people. And I mean it. I say it to Stephen all the time, and he does not say it back as often. He tells me, but it doesn't flow out of his mouth like breath like mine do. And that's ok, I never mind. It's not really even anything I've thought about before. I have always been 'more loving' than others, from the time I was born.

But today I was floored and humbled by the awakening that I had with Stephen. (You all are going to get tired of hearing me talk about him, I think... Sorry.) It started from IM, as it usually does since that is how we talk in the mornings while he is at work.

Amy: is there even an amtmux anymore?
Stephen: sometimes...
Stephen: but with no-one on
Amy: the last time i tried to log on it wasnt there.
Stephen: i just tried.. and it's not
Amy: It makes me a little sad, with all of esthers things there.
Stephen: :(
Stephen: if you're that concerned.. you can ask ivar for a flatfile of the game.. and I could run it somewhere

I almost wanted to cry. 'I love you's' dont mean squat to this. I was instantly aware of what he was /really/ saying... he was saying that he loves me enough to host a silly game because it means something to me because of a dead friend. Not even because of all of the memories that he and I share there... just because of Esther.

Amy: you know, baby - that was really sweet of you.
Stephen: what is?
Amy: to offer to take the amtmux and run it just for my sentimental reasons.
Stephen: *smiles*
Amy: It made me feel very loved. and I wanted to tell you.
Amy: thank you
Stephen: you're welcome

From my journal to him: "Sometimes love is not how often 'I love you's' are said. Sometimes love is not the sex and control and passion. This is an even bigger love. And some people gloss over things like this, little things that mean I love you. I don't want to be a person who glosses over them. This type of I love you means more, because it is not blatant, it is easy to pass over and miss."

I can't believe this hit me so hard. I'm crying, being sappy and sentimental and crying for feeling so overwhelmed by emotion. Silly girl, silly girl Amy.

Amy: you know what else makes me all sappy sentimental about the amtmux?
Stephen: what?
Amy: lemonland
Stephen: lol
Amy: you used to sneak me away and hide me from everyone else.
Amy: greedy.
Stephen: Yup
Amy: does that mean you could be considered ultimately greedy, since you have now snatched me away from the rest of the real world too?
Stephen: yup
Amy: are you happy being so very greedy, lovely?
Stephen: yup
Amy: *kisses and giggles* wanna know a secret?
Stephen: yup
Amy: *whispers in your ear* I'm happy you are so very greedy too.

Current Mood: loved

01:03 pm - the update...livejournal post

I know all million of you who read this are dying to know what happened next. Nosey bastards. ;)

The guy, whose name is Graham, with whom I had the interview (major accent - it took me a moment to snap into 'English accent deciphering mode) called me about 5 minutes before I was expecting him to. Which means I jumped out of my skin when the phone rang. I was already a bundle of nerves, but suddenly my breathing was laboured and I was sweaty. My heart was pounding in my chest. I thought it might explode for a moment. I really was terrified.

He was very friendly, introduced himself, then passed the phone to a lady named Claire, who was the Department Head for the Third Year. I had an additional moment of panic when I wondered if it was the same Claire that works with Stephen. Obviously not thinking right, because he doesn't even work at this university. It wouldn't have mattered if she was the same Claire anyway, she wouldn't have known who I am at all. It was just panic, plain and simple.

So he asks me questions. Not many, and simple ones like "Why do you want to come to school here" (blahblahblah its the best university ever..) "What make you want to be a teacher" (I actually told the truth on this one, though I later thought up a better answer. I said that I didn't at first, but that as time came on and I got sucked into it, I realised that I really liked it and that I was good at it.) He asked me why I wanted to teach in England, and I got to throw in my global perspective commentary and managed to avoid stating something like I want the hell out of the US. He asked about my teaching philosophy and about my experience.

I think it safe to say that I blew him away. After each answer I would give he would say something like "Oh, excellent answer, my my,yes, most excellent". He was stunned silent a time or two, and made comments about my seriously hefty amount of experience. I got to talk about critical pedagogy, and mentioned all of the work I have done with inclusion and early childhood.

He told me when it was my turn to ask questions that the only reason that I wasn't in the third year was because they could not give me a degree without my going through the second year. That he thinks some of my classes will still transfer, and that the second year should be pretty easy for me. He said that he was excited to have me, that he looked forward to meeting with me as soon as I could get there.

Here was Stephen's response...

Amy (6/11/2007 7:18:31 AM): He said they are excited about having me.
Stephen (6/11/2007 7:18:58 AM): that's good
Amy (6/11/2007 7:19:03 AM): and that it was a shame that he can't put me in the third year.
Stephen (6/11/2007 7:19:06 AM): i knew they'd love you
Amy (6/11/2007 7:19:16 AM): you /knew/?
Amy (6/11/2007 7:19:21 AM): how did you know that?
Stephen (6/11/2007 7:19:25 AM): well you're amazing

Aww! how sweet!

Anyway, it went very well and I feel emotionally better. I can physically still feel the effects of the nervousness... my back aches. I think I might curl up in bed and rest, work on my study guide for the math test tomorrow, and spend time with me. And maybe Stephen. Or whoever else I happen to talk to.

Current Mood: cheerful

06:01 am - this morning... livejournal post

Once again I am up early. Actually, though, that is deceptive. 'Early' is a subjective term. I was actually supposed to be up at 4, but didn't actually manage to GET up until 5. I'm tired. I am a little concerned with how tired I have been lately. It seems harder and harder to get up in the mornings, and forget any sort of conversation between Stephen and I that doesn't involve my begging him for more time to sleep. Lucky for me he is busy at work lately, so he doesn't seem to mind.

This morning, however, I fought myself to get up early. I have an interview at 7 am. With the Department Head of the Second Year Programme at Canterbury Christchurch University. See, and this is still partially hush hush, as I haven't posted the 'big announcement', I was accepted. But not into the Third Year like I had hoped, but the Second Year. I was told last week. Then they threw this interview at me. With the Department Head. And told me, "It's ok, Dearie (yes, dearie... that was what she said...) it will be fine." And now I am a bit in a panic. Does it mean that there is still a chance they won't accept me? But I've already told both K and B and the shit has already hit the fan. I can't go backwards... and I don't want to.

Anyway, I'm terribly nervous. A little over an hour until the interview and I feel like I have 2 options - bomb it and screw my future on a few levels, or ace it. In my imagination it gets me into the Third Year. And yet I am even mixed up about that. I am not eligible for a spousal visa until I have lived with Stephen for 2 years. If I /do/ get into the third year, and I don't find a job very quickly after graduation, then I can't stay. If I stay in the second year, it costs significantly more in tuition, but I will be there 2 years, and eligible for that spousal visa afterwards, taking some of the pressure off of me finding a job that will support a work visa that quickly. But I'd like to finish this degree already. I'm tired of /still/ working on a stupid bachelors degree. I want to move onto something that seems more productive. A Masters degree, maybe. Or *gasp* actually teaching.

Stephen says that this interview is just a formality. I can't really comprehend that an interview with a DEPARTMENT HEAD is a formality. He may be right, but he also said that /he/ would be terrified if he were in my shoes. And that just makes me feel all the more comfortable. Yeah right.

I just have to hold onto the thought that the world is perfect and things happen as they should. This won't stop my moving (yay positive knowing!).

Leading onto a brief other note... apparently B is set to speak to a lawyer today. To keep me from taking Ashley overseas. All because I won't drop the back child support. He actually told me that, if I did drop the child support, he would let me take her without a fight. Honestly, I don't think there is anything that he can do. She is 15, old enough to choose for herself. And I have sole custody of her. In the divorce decree it says that I choose where she lives. I just might be safe and take my divorce decree to the University lawyer and have them check it out and tell me what his chances are of stopping me. Sister, other sister, and Stephen have all said that I should not drop a penny of the back support or fees, and I tend to agree with them. It is not my fault that he didn't pay anything at all for 11 years, and I have a hard time feeling sorry for him now. Ashley, on the other hand, thinks that I should. I am not sure that I can express to her that, if I were to give in to him on this even a little bit, he wins more than just the money. He wins, because I will have let him intimidate me into doing what he wants, again. And that cycle must break. He does not own me, and I don't want him or I acting like it anymore. I have bent over backwards since I left to make sure that he had her as often and for as long as he wanted. His lack of participation is his fault, not mine. I am not responsible for his irresponsibility.

*sighs* 1 hour to go until that interview. Nervous....

Current Mood: nervous

05:53 am - nightmare... livejournal post

I am a vivid dreamer. This is the biggest reason that I don't like living by myself. There is no one there when the nightmares come. And they do come, a lot. I have nightmares a lot. The worst ones are the ones that I can't get out of, the ones where I finally wake myself up by screaming in my sleep. Those are bad. But the painful ones, the /really/ painful ones that I can never seem to forget, are the ones that are so sad that I cry in my sleep. Sometimes even cry myself awake.

Just now I woke up crying from a nightmare. A bad, painful one.

My grandmother, whom I love very much, is dying of Alzheimer's. In my dream, I went to the nursing home to have lunch with her. She didn't recognize me. I had Boo with me and he was scared by the situation, and it got bad enough that I had to leave before I planned to in order to take him home. So I kissed grandma goodbye and I walked with her back to her bed. There were really long green cords attached to her, and she had to drag them along with her. They must have been heavy, just for the sheer length of them. They trailed out of sight behind her in the corridor. When I got grandma back to her her I bent down and gave her a kiss and told her that I loved her, and she grabbed onto me and started screaming. She couldn't speak well, it was mostly few words, but it was screaming in my ear, and at first I couldn't understand her... but then it was her begging me to take her home, to get her out of there, please please don't leave, Mamy... and she shocked me when she called me Mamy, grandma doesn't call me Mamy so I looked down at her and it wasn't grandma, it was older niece, and she was screaming at me and she was her baby size but she was so old and wizened and they were grabbing her arms to rip her away from me and strapping her down onto her bed and she was screaming... so I wrapped her in my arms and held her so tight and I started to cry in my dream. She held onto me and looked in my eyes and said "bow... Mamy.... bow...." and I asked her if she wanted a bow and a ribbon for her hair and she started to cry these great big huge tears from her huge eyes staring at me and nodded and I was sobbing now in my dream so hard and they wouldn't let me take her home and I had to go, Boo was screaming in terror in the background, and I told her I loved her and I had to let her go and walk away as older niece/grandma screamed "Mamy! Mamy!" in the distance and I woke up just sobbing, my face already soggy from how much I had been crying.

Every time I have a crying dream in the last few months it is about grandma. I know I'm sad about it, I feel guilty that I can't/don't get up there to see her more. But I woke up convinced that she is in my head on purpose. Not to hurt me or scare me, but just because she misses me. I want to go and see her, but I'm scared to. I can't ask her if she is coming into my dreams on purpose. I really needed someone to talk to about it, but Stephen must be busy because he didn't answer when I texted his phone, and sister didn't answer hers. I hate waking someone just for a nightmare. But what I need, what I really need, is to be able to wrap myself in someone's arms and sob it out when I wake from a dream like this. I am going to have to do some work to keep this from clinging to me all day long.

God, my heart aches. Sometimes I hate dreams. I want to stop crying now...

Current Mood: scared and sad

07:18 am - dream... livejournal post

I was at my moms house for a family gathering, They were all mad at me and not talking to me... so I decided to become an insect lawyer. I was representing this very pretty white leaf like insect who also happened to be deadly poisonous. She kept threatening to bite me, and I was scared of her. But she was really pretty. This is what she looked like, but white white, and not as big, with about 100 legs underneath, completely flat, and a bit more delicate. Anyway, I was not doing a very good job representing her, and she was going to lose, so I tucked her into my pocket and helped her escape. She told me that she wanted something (this is the part of the movie where one character whispers in the others' ear, and the scene changes before you know what was said...)

I tuck the insect under a blanket and tell her to hide there and stay put, then I go. Suddenly, I'm in a pharmacy, and I have to crawl over a huge piece of furniture to get to the window, where I explain that I am an insect anthropologist and that I need a syringe for dispensing medication to children because the insect wants milk and minestrone soup. The pharmacists gets all excited, and tells me to hold on, runs to the back, and comes out about 10 minutes later with a bowl of chili. He tells me to try his minestrone soup. Its not minestrone, its chili! I make excuses and remind him about the syringe and he gives it to me but pouts as I walk off.

I get home with milk and minestrone soup mix in a bag, and start cooking. I rescue the insect, who has been trying not to drown in a puddle of water that has appeared in my bed under the covers. I watch as she balances all her feet on top of the water and floats. The cat apparently pushed her into it. I get her a graduated cylinder of milk and fill the syringe, but she dives in head first to drink it all. Then I bring in the minestrone, which I also made with milk. Then Stephen sent me a text saying he loves me and his mum and Norbert are there and they were going out. This, of course, woke me and the dream ended.

Everything was fine, but I got the willies when looking up pics of the insect to link here, so I think it might have been a nightmare. I'm scared of leaf bugs, now. :(

And Christine... I want to go to the farmers market too!

Current Mood: groggy

09:34 pm - my day, looking backwards. livejournal post

I am craving spinach today. Spinach and peanut butter. I can't seem to get enough of either. I catch myself with a spoon, dipping into the peanut butter jar, then follow it up with raw spinach like a cow chewing cud. It must be disgusting.

I know why I do it. It's the protein and the iron. I generally crave raw spinach. During the period of months that there was none available because of the salmonella problem, I thought I was going to die. I was craving it so bad I might have eaten it and taken the risk.

The peanut butter is the last month or so, and I think it might be the protein, and because of the fact that I have cut meat out of my diet drastically. Yes, I still eat meat, but maybe 2 or 3 times a week versus daily. It is supposed to be healthier that way. I don't know, if I am craving protein.

Yes, I'm beating around the bush. I'll stop now and tell you what you want to know. My day.

It actually started off pretty good. Busy, anyway. Dar surprised me by getting here around 8.15 while I was making breakfast for Boo. (Malt o' Meal with sugar - always reminds me of when I was a little girl. My dad used to make it for me) She was rarin' to go work on the storage unit, and I DID tell her that I would go help. We actually made it out of the house by 9.15, dropped Boo off with Chris, then went to town. We threw away an entire dumpster of crap. It felt good. I came back with a few things, but the most important was a box. A white box with blue stripes. A falling apart box, by this time. It holds all of the letters and cards and love notes and trinkets that have ever been sent to me. And some I have written and never sent. I have waited to do anything with all of the letters and cards from K because of wanting this box. This is where they will go. A graveyard, I suppose, of love.

I had an appointment to have my hair cut. (No, just a trim... not cut off) which I was late too because a very tired Boo was too busy throwing a fit to go to sleep. He is almost 6 and still does not do well without a nap. He just can't keep himself together when he is even a bit tired. So I ended up leaving him screaming, and was stressed all the way to the hairdressers. And I even felt a bit uncomfortable there. Not that she did anything, I was just feeling the beginnings of unwelcome and loser that come around this time. I ran away as fast as I could, looking forward to hiding at home....

And sister is here when I arrive.

Don't get me wrong, I love my sister. She had come over to do laundry. And brought all three kids. To my clean house. Which is no longer clean. And while she was doing laundry, she disappeared, leaving me with the two babies. I passed the baby off to Chris, who was playing video games in the living room, and tried to entertain older niece, who is 1. Nothing doing. Someone is just too tired to not scream, and the more she screams the more my head feels like it is going to burst like Ghallager's watermelon and then Chris is trying to hand younger niece (10 months) to me too. And I just can't. I don't know how I manage not to say anything to anyone... but sister eventually goes home. And I was glad. She didn't even finish her laundry, left it for me to take off the line, but I didn't care. I was ready for her to be gone. I needed down time.

Ah.... silence. Boo outside playing, silence. So I sit and start going through old letters in my box. Mistake. Alarm is going off in my brain and I ignore it. Bwap Bwap Bwap! 10 minutes later I'm sobbing and feeling so freaking lonely, like I am a terrible person to have treated all these people this way, totally unlovable, sobbing so much that my collar on my shirt is wet.

I spent the rest of the night trying to pick up the pieces.

I am doing this by drawing. I have started a piece, and so far it really gets my lavalampymorosetwisted thing in my head. Maybe I'll share it when I'm done. But don't laugh. I can't draw.

So no period yet... maybe this is the worst day, which means I should start in about 3 days. It's a bad month.
I don't think it helped that Stephen and I did not talk at all today.

Speaking of, thanks Andrea for reminding me to update you all on that topic. Christine mentioned the other night as I was whining to her about it, "Does he not realize that loans are the only way a person can go to college anymore?" And it made me think - maybe he DOESN'T know that. Maybe this is one of those weird cross-cultural miscommunication thingies. So I talked to him about it. And it was. He says that he can't imagine owing the 20,000 that I owe as it stands right now, but that he understands. It bothers him, though. There, a bachelors degree doesn't work like this. I don't really understand how it /does/ work, but that's ok. The bottom line is that it concerns him how much money it is, but he sees that 16000 is less than the 24000 I expect to borrow to finish my degree here, and I can look into them. I won't though, until I hear back from the university. Monday I'll send them an inquiry email again.

So this is my long ranty whiny post about my PMS days. I'm ok - don't worry about me, but do love me. I think you guys are the best friends I could have. And I want to keep you. Thanks for checking up on me tonight, Andrea.

Maybe tomorrow I'll tell you about the storm.

And tomorrow is Strawberry jam day! Boo, Fi, and I are making jam! Yummy yummy! What time??? Christine, what time do I get Fi and from where???

Love you guys...

Current Mood: irritated

07:05 am - livejournal post

this morning's dream...

It was the end of the school year, and there was a big party. I was supposed to be gone, but I just kept going back, over and over again. I would leave and find a reason to go back. I kept going back until everyone was gone except Sergio, the other teacher. He told me I should get married. At one point during this going back theme, I was playing with a cute little blonde girl, her dad arrived and I wouldn't give her to her dad. I was insistent that she keep playing, and she kept looking over her shoulder at her dad. She obviously wanted him, and to go, but I wouldn't let her.

When I finally did leave, I decided to go to my dad's. When I arrived, there was a riot on the street: but the riot was Amtgard. Everyone was fighting each other in garb and with padded swords. I was with Kenny, hiding in the back of my dad's truck, peeking our heads over to watch when someone came up behind us and threw a dagger at my back. Kenny got mad and jumped out of the truck and was suddenly in garb and just another part of the riot, so I got in my car and left to my dad's house. (I know, I know - it was confusing. I /was/ at my dad's house, but now I'm going to my dad's house.) I drove into the mountains, and the doors on the tunnel had been bent into this shape by the wind: ). They were huge thick metal doors, and I thought it was odd, but kept going.

I finally got to his house, a beautiful A frame nestled under tall huge trees. It aged in front of my eyes in minutes, until it looked old and worn out, and my dad came out and told me he was getting around to fixing it up. He went back in, and I was standing on the porch holding onto the railing looking at the trees when I noticed the biggest one was going to snap in half. I could see the bulge where it had already started. I decided to warn my dad, but before I could, it snapped and fell... in slow motion, crushing the house in the middle, right beside me, sliding toward me, me thinking I'm going to die by being pinned to the house by this tree, and I jump in slow motion... and land on top of it. My heart is pounding, I'm panting, I can't hold myself up... and my dad comes out surprised.

Anyone want to guess what it means?

Current Mood: uncomfortable

09:38 pm - It's official... livejournal post

My house is clean.

I don't know if I feel better, but I'm tired and I'm sore from busily cleaning my fool head off. All that is left is some laundry I left hanging on the line. I'm too freaking tired to get it off.

While I may not know if I feel emotionally better yet, at least I feel like I can breathe in my own house again. And now I won't be quite so apologetic when people come over to visit.

Current Mood: exhausted

09:51 am - livejournal post

09:51 am

I can tell I am closing in on my period.

Yesterday was full... my younger niece had 4 seizures in as many hours, no fever involved. Sister panics, and calls me. B is a total prick and was mad at her for taking younger niece to the hospital, so told her that if she wanted to get home, she could call a 'fucking taxi'. Prick. I could totally use some release of aggression. On his physical being.

Then I /finally/ hear back from financial aid. And the answer is no. Not a chance of financial aid for England. I'm stunned. I can't really think. And I certainly don't know what to do next.

But no time to process, too busy busy busy. I kept older niece last night, because Mr. prick gets drunk. I did it FOR SISTER... and yet she made it sound to him as though I were offering to help him out. I'm not entirely sure I would spit on him to help him out right now.

(Can you see the mud-of-depression sucking at my boots?)

So then another night of not sleeping well, and my house is trashed and I just want to crawl into bed and hide and Stephen said he does not want me taking out a loan and I am feeling bloated and fat and I just want to bawl like a little baby.

How am I supposed to positively know that I'll be in England when I can't figure out a way to pull $16000 out of my ass?

It didn't help that I told my sister the very shortened update on the Stephen situation and her response was "Amy, he doesn't love you'" and then this morning he didn't tell me that he loved me before I logged off (he is really sick, and who says it matters if it gets said every time anyway, and I kind of logged out before he had a chance to say it anyway)

I have lots of similes for how I am feeling. I'm tied to a stake at low tide and the water is lapping at my feet. I am walking in a swamp, can't control my body and I can feel the bog starting to suck me down. I am standing in quicksand and I'm starting to sink but I can't seem to move.

I hate this time of the month. It feels an awful lot like drowning in despair. I'm trying to stay positive, but...

Current Mood: gloomy

09:23 am - What's in my Head... livejournal post

Today my head is filled with images of paintings. Big bold colours, minute details of abstraction and in-depth renderings of complex doodles. I feel driven to paint and draw and fiddle, and frustrated that I do not think that I have the ability. But I do, I know I do.

It is like watching a lava lamp, and the glowing blobs of goo are what I want on paper, but filled with lines and dots and eruptions of colours.

*sigh* But I really should keep plugging on cleaning and rearranging the house.

Which will win? Practicality and clean-the-housedness? Or the strong fishing line of creation that has its' hook in my cheek?

dunnodunnodunno....

Current Mood: creative

07:54 am - Morning - livejournal post

I dream a lot.

I used to write down my dreams every night. And I remembered even more of them when I did. I have books and books of them written down. With everything going on, it seems that waking up to write down my dreams is just too much effort, so I don't remember as many. But I still dream.

I think that my dreams mean something, though sometimes it seems that they are nothing more than my brain making up for the fact that I don't watch movies. Not that I am EVER able to figure out what they mean.

Anyway, I had a dream last night. A frivolous dream, I thought, until I told Stephen about it this morning. He said it wasn't a very good dream. It didn't seem that bad to me, but I guess that would depend on your perspective. You see, I have A LOT of nightmares. Wake Up Screaming nightmares. Nightmares that are sticky and I can feel and remember them hours later. Nightmares during which I cry in my sleep.

I have nightmares so bad that while I was with Stephen in England, one night he slapped me awake, and it was wonderful. I needed and wanted him to. Because it got me out of it.

Ok, so last nights dream, as told to Stephen this morning:

Amy: I was taking a class and the final exam was to go out and be the first one back with a newsworthy story...
Amy: and there were hundreds of people in the class
Amy: so a mad rush to get out of the building
Amy: so many people that I was having to climb down the sides of the stairwell
Amy: and you met me at the bottom.
Amy: we walked in the parking lot, and I thought about doing a story on the bumper stickers of the cars in the parking lot, and hypothesising presidential election results based on political bumper stickers
Amy: when a guy from the class drove his car into a crowd of people, then jumped out and ran into the building to write a story on it.
Amy: and i was in such shock. i couldn't make the phone work. so you dialed 911 for me.
Amy: and it jumped ahead
Amy: and the guy apparently had a son, whom we adopted.
Amy: who hated us, and the dream ended with the three of us outside talking about how his dad would never get out of prison
Stephen: not that great a dream
Amy: and him plotting to kill us and attempt a prison break.
Stephen: eek
Amy: it was like a cliff hanger movie.


The guy had driven his car through a chain link fence and into a huge crowd of people, killing as many as he could. There was blood and screaming and all kinds of mayhem. And he jumped out of his car and left it there in the midst of all the destruction and death and ran in to write about his newsworthy story.

At the end, when the son is plotting to kill us, the three of us are standing beside a well. He has a piece of foam core board and an X-acto knife and is cutting a shape out of the interior of the foam core board while he is questioning Stephen and I about his father. I thought it was going to be a person shape at first, but it ended up being a very sloppy giant X.


Spending time with you the other day, Christine, made me stop to ponder the fact that there was a well. But I still have no clue what it means.


Oh, yeah, and by the way... the only reason I put a mood is because I like the little cat. It may not always be accurate. I just like the little cat. I think I'll name him.... Fred. Fred the Little Cat.

Current Mood: contemplative