moody & sometimes offensive

To be Young

And to have such dreams.

Now we’re old and just getting by. Our dreams are still dreams; our lives nowhere we thought. We bitch and complain; we moan and talk of dreams. But we do nothing.

My friend and I were texting the other night, and she said it’s funny albeit sad how she remembers how she and her group of friends (me included) talked of our hopes and dreams for the futures; what we wanted to do and be when we were adults.

Some 10 years later, here we all are. Young adults.

It’s taken me a long time to even step out and reach for my dream. I was 21 when I finally took my CNA class- I put it off for two years! Then I told myself I don’t want to be in my 40′s and think back on life and regret waiting so long to do what I want to do.  Because I won’t be young forever, and time will not wait for me.

It’s so easy to be 12 and dream. It’s so hard to be 22 and actually make dreams reality. But stop dreaming, wake up, and reach for it! Stop dreaming, and start living!


I should finally be going!

Maybe college sounds completely normal to you. Maybe you’ve done your four years, and gone on to do more. Maybe hearing a young woman, 22 and a half year old, say she’s finally going sounds odd to you. And that’s okay.

My friend is the same age as me, and just graduated last month, a major in geology. Four years spent at the university where she gained a whole new life experience different than mine. And you know what? That’s okay.

Going to college was never a big deal in my family. My dad never did college. Yet he has supported his family for the past 25 going on 26 years. He raised my mom’s two daughters as his- and their biological father never paid child support. Nine kids my dad raised- is raising. I didn’t grow up starving (for food, attention, or toys). Sure, I had hand-me-downs, but I also got new stuff, too. We all did.

No, maybe we didn’t have the latest shit, but we had our needs met, and our imaginations are creative enough to fill in the lack of the newest things. We spent more time outdoors than we did indoors.

Okay, enough. I could go on about it, but this blog post isn’t about that. Basically, what that was input for was to say that, no, college was never a huge deal to us. Because my dad supported us without college. (And without government assistance.)

It’s not to say my parents encouraged us to not attend college, because if that’s the path we desire, they do. And so far, it hasn’t been for any of us. My oldest sister is raising two kids, and working full time at a really good job; her husband has a good job with really great benefits. My second oldest sister is a stay at home mom (like our mom) raising her three children. It’s the path they’ve chosen; and everyone has a different path.

My brother is going to go to police academy. Another sister is also raising kids, but she is hoping to take a few classes eventually. If time and money work out. But she’s a strong young woman and I know she will eventually go.

Then there’s me. I want to be a nurse. And you kinda can’t avoid college, although if I could, I’d be more than happy. I have never had any desire whatsoever to go to college. But my path is leading me there.

I filled out the FAFSA, finally, and have two schools lined up. Just depends on where I score to which one I’ll attend. And honestly, I am actually beyond excited to go. Because it means I am one step further to reaching my goal.

Although with more research, I have discovered I probably won’t be a neonatal intensive care unit nurse for probably a good six years, if not longer. Probably longer. Because I already know I won’t be doing no accelerated BSN classes.

Regardless. This really is a first step, going to school. And I am excited.


…it will happen.

Ok so I ended up having a four day weekend. I return to work today, where I will be for the next five days, a day off, then like another five days on. Anyway, when you’re off the weekend, then you’re the extra aide, and everyone shows up, hell yeah you’re going to go home! Well, I did. Some people would have traded it. Yesterday was my day off, so it ended up being four days off in a row. It was awesome.

My last day I had worked, being Friday, I was putting this old couple to bed. As I helped her husband into bed, she just blurts out, “Are you pregnant?”

I stop what I’m doing and just look at her. I laugh, “No, but do I look pregnant?”

She shakes her head. “Not at all. But you could be in the early stages.”

I laughed again, saying no, I’m not pregnant, and “I better not be!” to which her husband just laughed.

I told my co-workers and later, when it’s late, and we’re just basically answering a random call light or two while waiting for night shift to get in, one co-worker goes, “Are you pregnant?”

It was funny, and I explained the story to the others that had come over. It was funny until one said that old people just know these things. I denied it, and said I’m about to start in two days.

Today makes three days past my average start time. But I am not worried. I will only be worried if I don’t start between now and another two days. I keep track of all this with an app on my phone, and while it says I’m three days late, it’s going off my average. But sometimes I start a day or two early or after (which is how I got an average, obviously).

Whatever. I’m hungry, and I need to get ready for work.

Drunken Letter

“Dear John Doe,

I still miss you. I know it sounds silly, but I do. Two years ago I gave you my virginity, and my heart.”

Ok, I’m kidding. Sort of. That line is true, but it’s not really what I’d write to him. Unless I was drunk. Which I am right now. Not shit faced, just drunk enough to be in my feelings.

But if I did write him…I don’t know what I’d say. Would my letter be telling him how he made me a stronger, albeit jaded woman? Would it tell him how he broke me until I thought life was meaningless and empty? Would my letter tell him that I’m not sure I’ll ever love again?

I don’t even know if I’d write him to try and “win him back” or to just say “goodbye.” I don’t know.

Have you stared into someone’s eyes and literally imaged life without them? What did you see? What happened? Where are you now?

I would lock gazes with him. I would tell myself one day this summer fling would end, and that I’d be okay. Oh, the lies I told myself the summer of 2012.

Then summer ended, and so did we. So did I.

Have you ever been this person, and then…it seems overnight you were totally different? You were suddenly a person you didn’t know or understand because the former you just didn’t know this side of you existed?

My brother would have been 7 years old May 16th, 2014. I worked all day. That was nice. Then I got off at 11, and decided to go out drinking. The guy I was dating but then never really broke up with came out with me. He didn’t remember my brother would be 7. Which just depressed me more.

Which got me thinking about John Doe. I don’t know why.

This isn’t even a letter.

I need to go to bed.

Virgin Lips

No more.

I read this post, and it inspired this post I’m about to write.

Kisses were always gross to me. And having sex was just something married couples did. Well, until I turned twelve and discovered my 17-year-old sister was fucking her boyfriend, and had been since she was 15. Then my 18 year old sister got pregnant- before getting married.

I was 19 when I started dating this guy. We hugged and cuddled. I’m a huge cuddle-bug, and I’ll pretty much cuddle with anyone who will hold me. Anyways, he kept asking if I’d ever kiss him. I just said no, I wasn’t ready, or some shit. I mean, it would be weird to say I thought kissing was kinda ew. (To be honest, I think the idea of kissing him was ew…)

We broke up- or rather, I broke up with him even though I didn’t know why at the time.

A year later I was living with my oldest sister, her husband, and their two kids and that’s where I met the guy who stole my virgin lips. We were just hanging out as friends with the talk that there might be more. I became infatuated. I was telling him goodbye at his house across the street from my sister’s, and he gave me a tight hug. Then without me even aware of what was happening, he leans in and touches his lips to mine.

I’m pretty sure I didn’t even kiss him back. I was just like uhh…what the fuck. I guess it’s probably weird for a 20 year old to respond to a kiss like that, but I was undecided at the time if I even wanted to kiss before I was married. (Laugh, I know, but I personally know girls who saved their first kiss for the altar.)

We never kissed again, and he got back with his ex. I think part of it was due to the fact he found out I was a virgin- all the way, and he didn’t wanna deal. Some guys don’t wanna deal with being a girl’s first.

Whatever. I could move on. And that’s where John Doe came in.

I’m sitting here, writing, racking my brain trying to remember our first kiss. I remember losing my virginity like it was yesterday, but our first kiss… I know it got passionate, and out of hand. And I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Omg. He kissed soo good. His kisses alone aroused me. Even before he brought hands into it, he could just kiss me and within a few kisses, I was ready to jump him. I haven’t been kissed like that since.

I can’t change the past, but I do wish my first kiss had been with a guy who genuinely cared about me, and not trying to fuck some random girl because he wasn’t over his ex. I wish I had a sweet first kiss. Maybe someday I’ll get that first kiss, but for now, every guy I’ve ever kissed- it’s been a lustful kiss to try and get into my pants.

I legit wish I never had sex to just “not be a virgin” anymore. I really wish that every time I’ve had sex since, it wasn’t to try and forget John Doe. Maybe one day I’ll have sex with a guy because I want him. I want him, and I’m not trying to erase a guy who broke my heart into a million pieces.

Enjoying my new job.

It feels really great to be a CNA. I’m only into my second week, but I do like it. I even like most of my co-workers, which is a huge plus considering we all work together, closely. I kid you not, I couldn’t stand most of my co-workers at my last job. Thankfully, contact with them generally stayed at a minimal.

The other day I got a shit load of compliments. Granted, a few of my residents probably don’t even remember dishing them out, but it still made me feel good. Others, they do remember. And now when they see me, they get a little bit bigger smile.

I really need to build up my upper body strength though. I mean, I’m not like super weak (I can bench press like seventy pounds, and for a 100-lb girl, that’s good. I think I’ve read the average a girl can press is 60.) but I could definitely use more muscle to move the heavier residents. In just the short time I’ve been, I am noticing a difference.

But I really hate being the new, and weak girl! For real, I hate being new. I love knowing what I’m doing, and being way confident. Not arrogant, or bossy- just confident that I’m doing my job well, and excelling.

So for any future CNAs, start doing those push-ups NOW. Before you start your job.

Strange Dreams

Haunt me.

Do you ever have dreams that just live on? Or maybe it’s a nightmare. I rarely have nightmares. But dreams, I have them. Oh boy, do I have them.

Between the ages of 5-12 I’d have the same nightmare night after night. It literally got so bad, I hated sleeping. I hated bedtime, and I’d lie in bed for hours before finally drifting off to sleep. I could go to bed at nine, and at 3am still be awake. I was that scared of sleeping.

The nightmare is silly now, but to my young self, it was terrifying. I was this itty-bitty person, and the whole world was this ginormous fat woman who wanted to squish me. Her body was a maze, and I had to find the end, and I had to make it through the maze to survive. The world- or rather huge woman- wanted to squish me. Kill me.

Why? Why?? What did I do?

I hated that dream. It scared me. I’d awake, heart pounding, and I could not close my eyes because when I did I disappeared in a void of a black maze. I could see nothing. I was this speck, fighting to live, terrified.

Come to think of it- that’s like life. Life is a huge “maze”, and we can’t see what’s ahead of us. Life is throwing us curveballs, and people are stepping on us. We’re skirting to avoid being killed- and not just physically dead.


I had a dream the other night that I was 14 weeks pregnant, and I was so damn excited. Until I go in for a doctor appointment, and they can’t find a heartbeat. And all I did was cry.

Last night, I had another dream where I just knew I was pregnant. I took a test, and it said negative. Again, I cried. It couldn’t be possible.

I’m sick of these baby dreams. I’m tired of wanting a baby so badly right now. I’m tired of running into all these pregnant girls my age. All these girls who have what I want. I’m tired of being the girl who’s jealous.

I am tired of every month being depressed when my period starts. Why can’t I convince my heart along with my mind that NOW is not a time to get pregnant, and that I should be thankful I haven’t fallen pregnant?

I hate dreams. They sometimes make reality harder.

Like, the dream I had where my baby brother didn’t die, and he was alive and growing, and happy, and not dead. I’ve had so many dreams where he was alive- but in almost all but one, he dies. I either can’t save him in time, or something. And I wake up crying. Crying because he’s dead. Crying because I saw him, held him in my dream, and because that’s what it was, a dream.

Dreams can be amazing things to experience. But other times, they just kill me.

And my baby brother would be seven in a week and a half. In two weeks it’ll be seven years since he died. Where has time gone? And why is my throat closing in on me right now?

I’ve had good dreams, though. Dreams that inspire the writer in me. I like those dreams.

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