Sunday, November 10, 2013

Its beginning to end

Good day people, and google analytics.
I'm writing, as I watch the "Drain You" video "Live from the Reading Festival" Circa the early 1990's. If my councilor is reading she's letting out a sigh, and a eye roll. Thinking, "Anna, Anna, Anna, how many times have I told your obsession with Nirvana is soooo fucking unhealthy". Sorry J, I downloaded it onto my phone, and it's on my favorite play list so I watch it quite often. Normally I would only be watching for Kurt's face, but since I'm learning to play the guitar I watch his hands. Even though he is a lefty, the same rules apply, same chords, etc... Don't get me wrong I like to see his face, but it makes me sad, and angry.
You're probably asking yourself, "if it makes you feel sad and angry to see him, then why would you ever want to see him?" The answer is simple I like to be in control of my feelings. I'd rather make myself feel sad and angry than someone else and out of the blue. Ahh fuck it, why am I blogging to someone who is probably not going to ever read this post. (To everyone wondering why I would be writing to a councilor in my blog, it's because I gave her permission to read the blog.) Of course I told her to read it like a year ago when I was still writing regular posts, but she read it a few months ago, and thought my year old posts were from this year. So she thought I was just telling her what I thought she would want to hear when I was with her, and then would go home and post my real thoughts and feelings. 

Moving on... I just sat there with my fingers on the keyboard after writing "moving on..." for a good ten minutes asking myself what the fuck should I say? Where the hell should I start? Can I even do this while listening to music. I can't, not while listening to modern music with lyrics, so I just changed to my Classical Music play list. It is much easier to hear your own thoughts and ideas whilst listening to a concerto rather than modern music with lyrics that my brain can't help taking in if I'm listening or if I'm ignoring, it still influences me, and my choice of words, the topics I choose. If not on a conscious level then on a subconscious level. 

What has happened since my last blog post, you ask. Well not too much and a lot depending upon how you look at it. I've changed my hair color numerous times, sticking with the blues mostly aside from a pink, and a purple that came out too violet and looked blue, when I wanted a more lavender purple. At the moment its bright blue, and with every wash it lightens a bit, but I wish I could have it washed out now, so I could finally put that pastel lavender purple on my hair. 
My family life has become much less stable now that my father has become a true drunk and chronic gambler who has taken out loans bringing a women who looked like my mother, with my mother's ID to get twenty thousand dollars. Payday loans have become a weekly expense, their average checking account balance on the 1st of the month is -100.00 dollars due to rubber checks. I've taken over the car payment, the Verizon bill, cell-com bill, as well as borrowed my mother three thousand dollars to find a place to live because since my dad's gambling became an addiction the $1,000.00 a month in rent is impossible to come up with. Not to mention my dad's taken up with another woman, an alcoholic like himself, who also likes to hit the Black Jack tables. For a few weeks he moved out, then one day he came back probably because he had no money and no way to get money until his next check came. He was promptly checked into Mental Health facility, (one I frequented numerous times up until 2012) to get off the booze, and hopefully be talked into going to a 28 day program. He refused to go to treatment, and we couldn't keep him in the "nut house" after his DT's had subsided, and was not a harm to himself or others. 

So we are moving into a nice house much bigger than this condo, and the rent is less than half what it is here, plus heat is included. It is also supplied with a washer and dryer. It's an old house, in one of the oldest neighborhoods in the city. All around us are these beautiful old Victorian homes, and then there is our rented home. It's not unkempt, or an eye sore, it's just a plain white old home, with a detached garage and a beautiful porch. 

What have I been doing as the stability I once took for granted fell out from underneath me? I've found a good friend, he is a boy, but he is like a little brother to me. He is only 26, but his girlfriend is 31. She hated me for the first three months of our friendship, until finally it was apparent that there was no sexual attraction on his part. *duh* I also have taken up the guitar, and one of Casey's good friends teaches me for free. Of course it's not a regular basis, he just drops by every so often with his guitar in hand and it's time for a lesson. Then the worst tragedy of his 26 years happened within weeks of meeting me. His mother committed suicide. Hung herself in the basement, leaving behind no typical note, but rather a poem which can be interrupted many different ways. This happened just before Halloween, and the poem was dated January. So my teacher, only 26 was left to grieve. The night his mother was found he came to my place, and we sat in my bedroom and I listened to his thoughts, offering some advice where I could from the loss of my sister. His name is Calvin, and thankfully he and his sister are super close. So he has her to help him, and she has him to help her. I did mention the name of very good male friend is Casey, and he is a Libra, and the name of my Best friend since childhood is Kaycee and she too is a Libra. 

I'm sorry to cut this post off, but it is sunny out at the moment, and its coming up on the noon hour, and I want to give Eleanor a walk, and if it's warm enough I'd like to sit and read under a tree next to the house, after Elle and I have traveled the neighborhood streets, and she has left her sent all around to let the others know she apart of the community around here. 

Life is short, and spending time with Eleanor is one pleasure I can't seem to get enough of. I hope to update here again soon, but I'm flaky and very unreliable. So farewell, be well, and my best regards to all you who took the time to read this unbearable boring post. 

Anna Grace Young