It's really too bad

He became a prisoner of his own past

He stabbed a moment in the back

With a brown thumb tack

That held up the list of things he's gotta do

Its really no good

He's moving on before he understood

He shot the future in the foot

With every step it took

From the faces that he knew,

Cause he forgot to look....

A certain shade of green,

tell me, is that what you need?

All signs around say move ahead.
Could someone please explain to me your ever present

lack of speed?

 

Are your muscles bound by ropes?

Or do grudges cloud your day?

My sources say the road is clear,

and street signs point the way.

 

Are you gonna stand around till 2012 A.D.?

What are you waiting for,

A certain shade of green?

I think I grew a gray watching you procrastinate.

What are you waiting for,

A certain shade of green?

 

Would a written invitation

signed, "Choose now or lose it all,"

sedate your hesitation?

Or inflame and make you stall?

You've been raised in limitation,

but that glove never fit quite right.

The time has past for hand-me-downs,

choose a new, please evolve, take flight.

Green.

What are you waiting for?

A written invitation?

A public declaration?

A perfect consolation?

Remember when you procrastinate you choose last.

I think I grew a gray watching you procrastinate.

Are you gonna stand around till 2012 A.D.?

What are you waiting for,

A certain shade of green?

I think I grew a gray watching you procrastinate.

Thrills

I know my mumsie (yes, mumsie... or mummy) would kill me, but I'm not sure about my father.... I think it'd be a mix of "What the f, Cecilia?" and a little bit of pride knowing he had raised a ballsy daughter, but if they found out what has been stuck in my head the past few weeks.... I'd never hear the end of it.

I'm researching the purchase of a bike. No, not a bicycle.... no, not a workout bike....

GW250 250cc Naked Street Bike

Let me argue this with you, please. I mean, come on.... the freakin' TITLE of the blog is "I Promise I'm Not Crazy." So, let me just list a few things to try to prove my point a bit....

1. I grew up riding dirtbikes. The terrain was more difficult, I already know how to use a clutch and lean into corners and turns... I just need a few pick-me-up test drives (and of course my motocycle license) and I'll be comfortable on the road.

2. You know that when Cecilia gets an idea in her head... it takes a lot to beat it out, or it gets accomplished. Those are the only options in my book.

3. I'm looking for a thrill. Obviously, this one can get me killed.... but so can eating jawbreakers or swimming off the coast of Galveston. And riding has always been a HOBBY of mine. I don't want to buy a dirtbike to ride on trails by myself... THAT feels odd, it's a different feeling and concept then being on a real road. And it's not realistic to try to put a trailer on my CR-Z (or having to get a vehicle to pull the trailer), then buy a trailer, just to ride alone somewhere far in Texas. I'm kind of more of a social rider too, I liked riding with my dad, brother, or sister.

4. Fuel economy!!! :D


The bike pictured above is the only one I have researched that I'm really interested in, but not until I sit on quite a few and get a feel for the handling will I decide before browsing to purchase.... and I'll start used.

And this probably won't be for another 2 years or so... maybe a gift to myself when I finish my Bachelors?

Can't win for losing

I would never have imagined such a rare numbness like the kind I felt that night and next morning. I laid stick straight in my bed, still wearing that day's tee shirt and my jeans. I never lay in bed with jeans, it's the most uncomfortable article of clothing to sleep in for me. But I could not bring myself to undress. Everything felt wrong.

I fell asleep, although it wasn't easy. I woke very early, could feel the uneasiness in my stomach. I didn't dare move, not just because I didn't want too, but because I didn't feel physically capable. The numbness doubled, and I stared at my wall for hours, praying that the feeling wouldn't last much longer. What do I do now?

I hestitated before I finally rolled over and peered at the person next to me. I stared at their back, wondering how I could get them to turn and face me without having to touch them. I didn't want to be in my bed. I knew I couldn't get up either to put my shoes on to walk out. I couldn't imagine what I would do if the person rolled over and saw me leave. I wanted to run away from this mess, from all the problems and hurt.

Finally, they turned over, still asleep. I moved closer and gently put my head against their chest. I hoped that this simple action would calm my nerves and help ease my agony. I thought, even if this doesn't feel right or make it better... I'm pretty sure things can't feel worse right now.

Wrong.

Because just like always... the feel of my body on his made him instinctively pull me closer. He wrapped both arms around me and tenderly laid his head right above mine. He did this as he slept, because that's what he always did. His natural reflex was to comfort me when I moved in the night, to always stay close... and I always welcomed it. It was what I loved most about him, the way he held me consciously and subconsciously.

Oh, how I shook. It was uncontrollable and painfull. It poured out of me harder than I've ever felt or seen, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. His sweet, delicate sign of affection had resulted in taking away any kind of steadiness that I was desperately trying to cling to. I heaved and I shook, and I couldn't control my sobs.

He knew. He held me, waited for it all to pass. And that was the end of us.

Oh what the hell she says
I just can't win for losing
And she lays back down
Man there's so many times
I don't know what I'm doin'
Like I don't know now

By the light of the moon
She rubs her eyes
Says it's funny how the night
Can make you blind
I can just imagine
And I don't know what I'm supposed to do
But if she feels bad then I do too
So I let her be

And she says oooh
I can't take no more
Her tears like diamonds on the floor
And her diamonds bring me down
Cuz I can't help her now

She's down in it
She tried her best and now she can't win it's
Hard to see them on the ground
Her diamonds falling down

She sits down and stares into the distance
And it takes all night
And I know I could break her concentration
But it don't feel right

By the light of the moon
She rubs her eyes
Sits down on the bed and starts to cry
And there's something less about her
And I don't know what I'm supposed to do
So I sit down and I cry too
And don't let her see

I still remember how good it felt to come home late at night, always sneaking in as quietly as possible in an attempt to not wake my sleeping roommate. Heading straight to my room, I'd peel off each piece of the evening's work clothes and replace them with boy shorts and a tank top, while anxiously awaiting to pour myself a margarita and pop him open a Bud Light.

The patio door would be kept open, and the two cats would stroll outside to sit on the couch overlooking the pool from our balcony. I'd sip my drink and gaze in whatever direction he pointed at, listening and observing the constellations I had never been familiarized with.

With his arm around me and my legs draped across his lap, we drank and talked into the early morning hours as the rest of the world slept.

How easy it is to forget how great these moments are once they're gone.

Whoever said life was fair? A complete idiot.

I'm not one to really want to complain about the current situation I'm in, but then again, why is it that great opportunities refuse to spread themselves out over time when they're in my favor? I don't like being bombarded with too many choices that all seem too good to pass up. So although things seem to be looking UP UP UP for me... here comes the downside of not knowing what the fuck to do with it all.

I finally just figured out the hidden mystery of what to do with myself in a college setting. It feels amazing to not be aimlessly walking around a campus wondering what purpose I have being there (oh yeah... because it's the American Dream to go to college and waste thousands of your money/parents money on partying and switching majors ten million times). So, after months of research and trying to get some kind of degree plan down, I've been shoved in the hussle and bussle of transfering transcripts and talking to advisors to get to my goal of finishing school (in 10 years), when amazing jobs start calling my name.

I love to work. I'd rather work than be a student. Guess what? That's why I don't have a degree. I put school second in everything I do, and I'm still degree-less and working twice as hard for half the money that I could be making.

I know, I know, boo hoo Cecilia.... we're just now getting out of a recession, and I'm complaining that I have too many jobs and too many people who want me to work for them. I don't want to take what I have for granted. But how much of that do I do when I work myself into the ground each week with 75+ hours?

I worked one job of 45 hours the week of Spring Break, and felt like I was on vacation. I think I've made myself get addicted to working so harshly, and I really want to stop.

I feel like the kids I teach make just as much of an impact on my quality of life as I do theirs. I don't want to stop teaching, but it's impossible to try to keep it up and be a student myself. Nonetheless, I still HAVE to work to pay my bills. I will never really know the luxury of what it means to be just a full time student UNLESS I can prove myself to the school with good enough grades to be able to get grants and scholarships to pay for my needs.

I'm going to hate leaving the school to be able to go to college. But I'm going to hate not going to college if all I did was the school.

I can't quit the hospital because of future job opportunities and because of tuition reimbursment. Besides the fact that I have to get a 2.5 to get the reimbursment, I WILL NOT allow myself to get anything below a 3.8. I want to do this, and do it right. I'm pretty sure that goal will not be anywhere near obtainable with working 75 hours.


So.... how the hell do I solve this equation?

The Past returns to me, without the haunting

How did I find myself here?, was all I thought as I sat on a bar stool with a Noble Pilsner and my ex boyfriend next to me. He called and asked to "hang out," which I declined. He persisted, and the tone of his voice reeked of desperation. I finally agreed, and drank my beer and decided to order some sort of food for my slightly upset stomach, and prepared to listen to whatever it was he had to say.

"I'm living with this woman who is amazing. She's everything I ever wanted, she takes great care of me. Our sex is great, and we enjoy just hanging out." I nod, tell him I'm happy for him, and continue eating, waiting for some bomb. Or was this an attempt to find some kind of affirmation for the fact he fucked me over years ago? That doesn't make much sense, but then again, being with him never did. I continued eating and drinking, without feeling the need to really reply but with the occasional nod of my head when necessary.

It is then, (as if it's the most natural thing in the world for people to talk about), that he casually switches from the topic of his amazing sex life to telling me he can't stop thinking about me. He goes to bed wondering what I'm doing, wanting to talk to me. He misses my green eyes. He's crazy over the fact I died my hair black, something he loves to see on a woman. He can't believe I bought a CR-Z. He craves the way I look in my sundresses, and the feel of me sleeping next to him at night.

He makes me turn to him, and holds my hands in his. I know he senses my stiff body language and sees my empty eyes.

"I realize now what I lost. You worked and fought so hard for us, and I was stupid to not see it and to walk away from you. I would do anything to have another chance, I've learned my lesson and I can't stop thinking about what we could be now. We've both changed, we could be great, Cecilia."

There isn't anything that I wouldn't have given to hear those words. I prayed, cried, and pleaded with God to have this man come back to me, to reclaim his love and realize that I was perfect for him, to want me again.

But... there isn't anything that I wouldn't have given to have heard those words years ago. I listen to him telling me these things, and at first I feel nothing. Absolutely, nothing. I am at a loss for words. I don't want to comfort him, and yet I don't want to reject him.

After a minute, it settles in a little more. I now have the urge to hit him. Not the sterotypical across-the-face-woman-slap, but a closed fist punch in the nose. How dare he show up into my life and confess such stupid things to me? I began to realize that what were supposed to be words of love in his confession, were more like words filled with his own selfish desires... words that were mixed with his own self-absorption of wanting to make his own life better, instead of thinking about the lives he has hurt, and the soon to be others.

After a moment of staring at my blank look, he lets my hands go. The only thing I can do is poke at my salad, waiting for a calm breath. What feels like an eternity, I finally find the words to speak, but couldn't meet his eyes.

"Yeah, I did work hard for you. You fucking broke my heart and left me, and I still worked hard because I loved you and didn't feel like either one of us deserved to go through the pain that breakup caused. I waited and waited for you to realize this, to say you were sorry. You now need to go back home, and work on what you do have with your amazing girl. Like you said, if you really did learn your lesson... then you wouldn't be here with me right now ruining the good thing you do have."

I finally looked up, and all the brightness that was in his face was gone. "What do you want, Cecilia? In general, with anybody... WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

This threw me for a loop. A real freakin' figure eight of a loop that I didn't know how to answer. I poked my salad again, pushing croutons around and feeling even more uncomfortable. This conversation was torture.

"I want to be with someone, who doesn't have to lose me to see what they had."

Our faces mirrored the same blankness in our expressions. He requested the check and rushed back to his place, the place where his girlfriend was waiting for him, not even knowing where he had been or with whom.

I drove away in my car, and ended the night blasting the song "Notion" by Kings of Leon.