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The trouble with my generation is that we all think we’re fucking geniuses. Making something isn’t good enough for us, and neither is selling something, or teaching something, or even just doing something; we have to be something.

Nick Hornby (A Long Way Down)

She wants the moon.

Me: What do you want for your birthday?
Niece: I can have anything?
Me: Anything reasonable
Niece: I wan….
Niece: I want… a space suit!
Niece: And the moon.
Me: A space suit… and the moon?
Niece: Uh huh
Me: Since when did I become NASA and owner of a Moon?
Niece: You said I can have anythinggggggg
Me: I can get you an astronaut suit… that’s not a problem
Niece: Not one of those halloween kind though pweeeseeee. They won’t get me in space.. Niles already tried it and he cried all day at school.
Me: So let me get this straight, you want a real astronaut suit that will get you into space, and somehow obtain a moon for you
Niece: You’re the bestest best aunt everrrrrrrrrrr
Me: How about I get you an dinosaur
Me: oh! or your own little camera, that would be fun!
Niece: … but its not the moon…
Me: I’ll see what I can do, but no promises.
Niece: Try your hardestttt!!! 

Oh this girl. She’s going to suck me dry. Her birthday is approaching August 8th, we’re surprising her by taking her to the Air & Space Museum down in DC and then having nothing but a space/astronaut theme party afterward. Ever since she could talk the only thing shes wanted to do is be an astronaut or own a planet. So i’m guessing shes either going to become a space explorer, or a villain. 

I already have her presents; I bought he a damn star (yes a star!), a telescope and a bunch of glow in the dark astronomy stickers. I’m thinking about crafting a paper mache Moon and probably a couple of planets so she can hang it in her room somewhere. I’m just going to be scared what she’ll ask for next year, I don’t know how you can top wanting the Moon… 




Balance.

There comes a time in my life where I can’t outrun my own self assured lies. Where admitting the truth is the only thing that will help me fight the demons that keep me awake, staring blankly at the ceiling in agony. Where I have to push my pride aside, agree, and stop fighting with myself. That time came this morning, this afternoon and five minutes ago. 

Two years ago before I started this blogging outlet, I was so angry. I was self destructive, and I was a monster. I held in every single one of my emotions, and if one slipped between my lips it was masked within sarcasm and humor. Inside I was tearing myself in two, I didn’t know how to express what I was feeling the correct way. From the outside I always looked vacant, but given one stare you can see in my eyes there was something bigger happening behind closed doors. I feel deep, everything. From the smallest ounce of compassion to a tiny drop of sadness, it ripples through out me in tides. I’ve always been this way, overly sensitive, but very strong from the touch. I only let people see what they wanted to see rather than what really is there. My life, emotionally, was my best kept secret. 

Something in me snapped, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. Everything I wanted to say, feel, and be was flowing out of me in such a rapid course that I had to write it down. I had to put it somewhere positive, even if what I had to say was filled with negativity. Within each entry I wrote, a layer of my darkness was being stripped off me. I was cleansing my mental health. All the missed times where I should have said I love you, i’m sorry, you’re right, i’m wrong, were held within my blog. My regrets finally opened and aired out for me to see, and to come to terms with. This, was me coping. 

But i’m still coping today. I thought my biggest step I had to take was just admitting what was inside me. That, once I unearthed everything I felt, I would be cured in some miraculous way. That’s not the case. This was only just that, a step. I don’t know how long i’ll be like this, I don’t even know if there is an expiration date for figuring out the madness  inside my head. All I know is I want to have myself together enough to where not only can I make myself happy, but i’m able to make another person happy as well.

I’m trying find balance, and thats exactly where my writing is heading towards. A balance of sanity, creativity and hopefully, stability. I’m ready for my next step. 


Mail Carrier: You’re the girl that leaves pictures every whereMe: I don’t know, am I?Mail Carrier: Well, if you were in fact the girl who leaves the pictures around DC and around this town my wife wanted me to thank you. She picked up one of your pictures off the MARC train, took it home and framed it. It’s sitting on her desk.Me: Well, if I was in fact that girl, I would say on her behalf, she’s completely stoked that your wife is taking amazing care of one of my..err..her pictures. And she hopes that she finds more of them.Mail Carrier: She hopes so too, but I told her that if she goes down to the farmers market every other weekend, she’ll see a girl matching your description selling her photography prints. And it so happens to be the same photographer who cleverly leaves her pictures in Washington, DC.Me: Spot on my dear Watson, spot on. Mail Carrier: Have a good day miss.  
I walked back into the post office, took out an envelope, put all the pictures I had in my bag at the moment (8) inside, wrote his name that was on his shirt on the front of it and left it at the office for him. He caught me, the least I can do is reward him. 

Mail Carrier: You’re the girl that leaves pictures every where
Me: I don’t know, am I?
Mail Carrier: Well, if you were in fact the girl who leaves the pictures around DC and around this town my wife wanted me to thank you. She picked up one of your pictures off the MARC train, took it home and framed it. It’s sitting on her desk.
Me: Well, if I was in fact that girl, I would say on her behalf, she’s completely stoked that your wife is taking amazing care of one of my..err..her pictures. And she hopes that she finds more of them.
Mail Carrier: She hopes so too, but I told her that if she goes down to the farmers market every other weekend, she’ll see a girl matching your description selling her photography prints. And it so happens to be the same photographer who cleverly leaves her pictures in Washington, DC.
Me: Spot on my dear Watson, spot on.
Mail Carrier: Have a good day miss.  

I walked back into the post office, took out an envelope, put all the pictures I had in my bag at the moment (8) inside, wrote his name that was on his shirt on the front of it and left it at the office for him. He caught me, the least I can do is reward him.