Kiffles and tea

I think this post is going to be very important to me one day.  I love my grandmother with all of my heart.  I've never had a negative feeling for her in my entire 24 years on this planet.  Let me preface this by explaining how she's my grandmother, but not really my actual grandmother.  My dad was raised by her because his mother didn't really have the funds to raise him.  All of my blood grandparents died years ago, but this grandmother, my "grammy," is still alive and kickin' at 83.

She lives alone because her husband died a long time ago.  She's a beautiful little blond wavy-haired lady with a cute smile. She loves to cook.  She spends hours upon hours baking and cooking for my dad and everyone else that comes to visit.  She's very social.  She'll spend hours talking to anyone about anything.  She loves to sit out back on her porch with her black coffee and one of her many yummy baked goods.  Sometimes she switches it out for black tea. 

She's very clean.  Her house is always completely spotless and I get that from her.  Sometimes she says things in German, like "schauen."  She cooks a lot of easy German dishes that I don't know how to pronounce, but they're so good.  She also loves gardening and always has pretty flowers surrounding her cute little house.

She's a democrat at heart.  She always agrees with me politically.  She has quite a "live and let live" attitude towards life.  She gets so excited when I come to visit her.  She offers me every single thing in her fridge and gets upset if I don't eat every single thing in her fridge.  She gives me a big warm smile and a big hug when I get there, and the same thing when I leave.  She always tries to shove a hundred or a fifty in my purse, along with about 5 tupperware containers filled with food.

She loves to gossip.  She always wants every tiny detail about my life and always prods for more.  It's cute.  She loves when I bring my friends over and she prods them for even more information, and she also offers them every single thing in her fridge.

She is so cute and losing her will most definitely be the most difficult thing I'll ever have to go through.  It hurts me so bad just to think about it.

I have a bunch of recipes that she hand-wrote just for me.  Along with a letter.  I'll cherish those until the day that I die.

I don't have many people in my life who love me like she loves me.  I think my dad does.  I think my dad really loves me with every single piece of his heart.  But he doesn't show it like my grandmother does.  She's not my blood grandmother but she treats me like I am.  I'm so thankful to have her in my life. I can't imagine what my life would have been without her.  Dark and sad.  My parents never had much of anything.  I grew up around drug addiction, alcoholism, and just all around sadness.  She always helped my parents financially.   I looked up to her so much and wanted the nice, easy life that she had. 

She always brings up my grandfather ("pappy") who died a long time ago.  "Nikki, Pappy would have liked..."  "Nikki, Pappy loved you so much."  She's so cute.

I saw her yesterday.  Whenever I go to the Lehigh Valley, I visit her.  I visit her before I visit my parents.  I stay at her house for a few hours and talk about life. This Saturday was fun.

She knows that most of my friends are gay.  We talked about gay marriage and adoption for an hour or two.  She asked me about gay bars and such.  She's such a liberal at heart but also a product of her time.  It's so innocent and cute.  "Nikki, I don't know about gay marriage, we never did that in our time."  But she says it in such a cute, innocent way.  And it never takes much to convince her of viewpoints like that.  I told her, "Grammy, when two people love one another and want to commit to a lifetime together, why should they be denied that right?"  And she tilted her head, thinking about it deeply.

She told me, "Nikki, I was talking to my sister.  I was saying to her, 'but what do gay men talk about?'" I giggled.  She asked me what I talk about with my gay friends.  She's so cute.  She tries so hard to understand but it just comes down to the fact that she's a product of her time.  I like that.  It's not ignorance at all.  If she was born sixty years later, I know she'd be totally for gay marriage.  She said to me, "Well, white people weren't allowed to marry black people either and now they do all of the time.  And I know a lot of black people who are nice."  lol!  

Anyway, I just want to say that she means the world to me.  My first tattoo will most likely be for her, and I've said that for years and years.  I love tattoos on other people but I'm not a big fan of getting them on myself.  However, she is so incredibly important to me and the thought of her will always put a smile on my face until the day that I die.  *sigh*

Wasting my energy

I don't think life will ever make sense.  Whenever I tell someone who is older than me that I'm lost and confused, they tell me that they're lost and confused too and that it's a lifetime struggle.  That being said, to an extent I'll have to get used to this feeling.

I should be proud of myself.  I'm 24 years old and I reside in a cute little apartment by myself in suburban Philly.  I have a bachelor's degree.  My resume looks amazing for my age, given the economy.  I'm a writer and I've been offered a paid writing job, which is something a writer can always cherish.  I have a pretty active social life at the moment.  I spend most of my weekends in center city or Manayunk, drinking and dancing with some of the most interesting people this city has to offer.

I also have quite the personality myself.  Within two days of working at the law firm, my coworker turned to me and said, "What the hell are you doing here?  You are too interesting for this job.  I feel like you're going to be famous one day."

I laughed.  Not just because it's bizarre to hear someone say that.  But also because that's definitely not the first (or second or third) time someone has said that to me.

I should be very happy.  And you know what, I guess I am happy.  I'm very happy.  I take charge of my life, head straight for the things that I want, and always obtain what I was seeking.  I think I'm rather ambitious and I think there's a lot of dignity in that.  However, I am happy but there is still a big problem in my life.

I am not okay with my sexual orientation.  Not one bit.  I don't want to be gay but I was meant to be gay.  I try to force myself out of it, but it is something that can't be "forced out."  It is something that I can't change and that is absolutely devastating to me.  I always obtain what I'm seeking, but heterosexuality is something that I'll never be able to obtain.

I just want to be myself and I want people to love me for who I am, and some people do, but a lot of people do not.  And I'm, sadly, one of those people who does not love who I am.  I was with a guy for five long years and I made it work, but I went absolutely insane by year four and had to end it.

And here I am, being a fool.  Talking to a guy.  Trying to make it work because I want so bad to be (dare I say it?) normal.  I just want to be a normal straight girl with a boyfriend.  But I'm not straight.  I hardly like men at all.  I can look at them and say "Oh that's hot" and I can even make out with them and have sex with them, but I can't really be with one.  I can't break another boy like I broke Kevin.  I know who I am.

So, this guy knows about my sexuality and my inability to accept myself and he wants me to just be who I truly am, but here I am trying to force it to work.  I mean, he's adorable, he's intelligent, we have a bunch in common... theoretically it would work.  But in reality, he's a boy and I shouldn't force it to work.  Because four years from now, I'd go absolutely insane and add another boy to the list of boys who I hurt.

I've hurt too many people.  I am being selfish and stupid.

My friend Alex from up North (who is gay) asked me why I wish I was straight.  I told him that it's easier.  And it is.  I've never had problems getting attention from guys.  Finding a boyfriend for me is a piece of cake.  Alex agreed that the gay community is more difficult. This is what he said and I was like BINGO:

"Everyone of the opposite sex is seeking you and in the gay world its 50/50. 50% you seeking them, 50% them seeking you.  In the straight world guys will ALWAYS seek you."

And in addition to the whole ease factor, I have to hide who I am to an extent.  I explained to "kiss in the rain boy" that whenever my parents are planning on coming to my apartment, I hide everything that remotely links me to the gay community.  I remember once (it'll sound silly) crying as I tore things off of my refrigerator because I was expecting my parents in the morning, thinking to myself "I just want to be myself and I want them to accept me for who I am."

But what it comes down to is that even I don't accept who I am.  This is a big problem.

I fucking hate who I am. And it's the biggest waste of energy because I can't change it.  I. like. women.  That's that.  It's the way that I'm wired.  I can't change my wiring.  But I also can't change the fact that I don't accept the way that I'm wired.

Acceptance is by far one of the most difficult things in the whole entire world.  It comes with time and that's all that there is to it.  You can tell me a million times that I should accept who I am, but that won't do a thing. That's not at all how acceptance works.  It's so fucking tricky.  My mom can't just "accept" the fact that I'm gay.  It's not easy.  And I guess I can finally relate to her.  It's fucking hard.  When you don't accept something, you just don't accept it.

I don't know.  I'm babbling.  I should be happy with myself given all of my accomplishments.  This is ridiculous.  What a silly thing to be so upset over.

Britney Spears in 2007

I don't even know what is going on with me.  I chopped off my hair,  I quit my job, I started looking at apartments an hour north of where I currently live... and I kissed a boy in the rain for like two hours.  I'm having a "Britney Spears in 2007" moment.  Don't let me near any umbrellas.

My new job as a paralegal is interesting.  It's very serious.  Everyone is quiet and they all speak law, so I feel like I'm in another country.  I'm picking it up fast, however, due to my experience at the insurance company.  It's very private.  I can't leave papers turned upright on my desk or leave my desk without locking my computer.  I'm quickly adapting to the environment, however.

So I discussed the job, now I'll discuss my apartment situation.  My lease ends in October.  Should I stay or should I go?  If I stay, great.  If I go, I'm moving up to the Lehigh Valley to be around my mom, who hates me, my dad, my grandmother, and some of my best friends in the universe.  I'm starting to think that I'm going to stay, simply because this area makes me very happy.

Now the boy.  Oh god.  Yes, I still identify as a lesbian.  Yes, he knows I like girls.  Yes, I've been spending a large chunk of my free time talking to him.  Yes, we are hanging out on Friday and Sunday.  And yes, I think he's pretty awesome.  I'm just going with the flow.  Whatever.  I don't care anymore.  He's fun to kiss and talk about zombies with.  That and he's completely accepting and respectful of my sexuality. (He's going to Philly Pride with me on Sunday!)

Oh, and Keely and I are really rocky.  She's driving me off the fucking wall, to be honest.  She's way too sensitive.  And usually I'm good at walking on eggshells but recently, with my random "Britney Spears in 2007" moment, I just can't take and I called her a bitch.  And her, being sensitive, took it much harder than a typical female would take it. And I mean, a typical female wouldn't take it that well to begin with.  I'm just sick of her bullshit.  I apologized and all, but I really don't know how I feel about being best friends with someone who is so easily set off.

Kevin's mom is distraught about Kevin.  She's been looking to me for comfort.  That's kind of hard because I'm pretty sure we're all distraught about Kevin.  His baby momma is controlling and crazy.  And she's popping out babykev in August.

My mom and I fixed our broken relationship once again.  Ugh.  And my father and I have been closer these last few days than we've been since I was a little girl and we used to go fishing together.  I like it.  I hope it stays this way.  He's a great dad.  He's really been showing me that he cares.  I don't know what I'd do without him.  I like it when he calls me to ask how I'm doing.  He hasn't done that in years.

ANYTHING ELSE?!  I think I covered it all.  Sheesh.

Shitty people.

Last night I was down in the dumps.  My friends' band was playing in the city so I decided to go by myself.  I sat down at the bar and realized that I knew the bartender, which was great because I got free shots all night.

And then I started talking to a guy.  And he was very intelligent.  And then we kissed in the rain all night.  It was so random.  And I feel horrible.

I feel horrible because I know that I should never rope another guy in after what I did to Kevin.  I'm just a shitty person, really.

The poverty line

Life is rough but I'm in full belief that if you start off on the right foot and keep trying to advance, you will end up somewhere worth being.

I'm 24 years old and I'm practically living paycheck to paycheck because I have student loans and a car loan.  All of the rest of my money goes to my "cost of living."  But I save the tiny tiny bit I can, because that will help me get rid of my loans faster.

But this isn't about my loans.  It's about my career.

I was bitching to my friend about how I'm starting off at the bottom of the barrel.  However, I'm starting off at the bottom of the barrel in a career that I know will bring me great ease later in life.  I quit my current job because there was no potential for growth.  If I would have stayed there, I would have been limiting myself.  I'd probably only be making $35k a year ten years from now. I'm very intelligent and I know that I deserve much more than $35k a year.

I mean, sometimes you gotta be thankful for what you have.. but you also have to set your standards high.  I know what I"m worth.

I also know that I'm going to be successful in life because I'm trying really hard to be successful in life.  Most of my friends sit idle and watch the days go by, just taking life as it comes.  I'm not like that; I'm quite a fighter. I've always been a fighter. I have two different kinds of friends and I find myself in the middle:

Friends like my one friend who works at a grocery store and is content with making $21k a year.
And friends like Kevin and Nick who make at least $125k a year.

I find myself in a place where I can go either way.  I can have no plan to change or I can keep fighting.  I mean, I'll never make $125k a year, but my goal is to be making much more than I'm making right now.  And if that means I have to go out of my comfort zone and change companies, so be it.  If  I need to quit my job again a year from now because the potential for growth isn't good there either, then I will do that.  And if it leads to another salary war, great!  Because salary wars usually end in more money.  The job I quit a week ago was trying so hard to keep me.  I swear they would have bought me a unicorn if I would have asked for one.

But a unicorn doesn't change the fact that I'd only be making $35k a year ten years from now.  Unless they gave me a new unicorn every year and I could sell the unicorn for at least $20k.

Both of my parents grew up below the poverty line. I think that is reason enough to keep plowing through life with this sort of ambition. You know, I've never failed at anything else before, so why would I fail at this?  I always get what I want.  Really.

Life depends on the choices that you make.  And some of them are hard but you gotta set your standards high.  If you choose to quit high school, you're fucking up your whole life.  If you choose to skip college, you're limiting yourself financially.  If you get your degree and you don't make it worthwhile, you might as well have skipped college.  If you find yourself in a relationship where the person works at McDonald's, then you can never complain about your financial situation with that person because you chose that person.

I want to make the right decisions in life.  I want to have a nice future.  I don't want to give up, ever.

I try to avoid hatred, but I'm feeling it right now

I'm going to vent.  Here goes...

I fucking hate my mother with every piece of my soul right this second.  No, really.  I don't care.  Don't give me any of that fucking "she's your mother" nonsense.  Okay *sigh*  I'm going to calm down and be rational. Let me put this in perspective for you:

I'm intelligent.  I have a degree.  I double majored in college.  I can teach 7th-12th grade English.  I've excelled in every job position that I've ever had.  I'm independent.  I live on my own.  I pay my own bills.  I follow each and every one of my dreams and I never ever give up.  I keep advancing in life from year to year.  I have goals (i.e. paying off my student loans in the next 5 years, settling down with someone, continuing my education).  I don't let things like friendships and relationships get in the way of my goals. I don't believe in God but I am a loving, compassionate individual who believes everyone should be given a fair chance in life.  Yes I'm a democrat because of certain social issues.  I don't believe that politicians should only cater to the rich.  Yeah, I'm not straight, but as far as I know that make me any less of a respectable person.

My mom is intelligent but she dropped out of nursing school.  She's excelled in a blue collar job.  She is extraordinarily dependent upon my father.  She has no dreams.  She's pretty idle in life.  She doesn't make goals.  She let men get in the way of bettering herself.  She does believe in God but she hates gays and people who speak Spanish and finds it necessary to own a gun.  She tells me that homeless people deserve to be homeless because it's their fault that they're homeless.  She would rather people die than have a government that provides health care to them.

Okay, and yet I'M the problem.  I'm the horrible person.  I'm (as she used to tell me about gay people) "disgusting."  She's "disappointed" in me.  And I totally made the wrong decision by quitting my job where the most I'd make is 35k.  It's totally not respectable to be working at a law firm in order to find new ways to advance in life.  You know, believing that I might go to law school is absurd.  Who does that?!

My mother is not a good person.  Really, she's not.  You can make excuses for her all you want, but I don't care.  It's official:  My mother is NOT a good person.  And ten years down the line when I'm in a very respectable position in life, I'm NOT going to thank her.  Because all she did was drag me down and criticize me and tell me how horrible I am for everything that makes me who I am.

I am proud of myself.  I'm proud that I graduated with a four year degree in English and Secondary Education.  I'm proud that I took a risk a few days ago and accepted a job offer that provides the potential for growth.  I'm proud that I'm chasing my dreams with a pen and a pad, hoping that one day I'll be in literature books across America.  I'm proud that I found a way to accept the fact that I'm not straight.  I'm proud to be a liberal, because conservatives are on the wrong side of history.

I'm 24 years old and I've surpassed my mother in regards to success, I believe.  Where exactly was my mother when she was 24 years old?  I am proud of myself and I am not going to let her toxic reactions get in the way of my pride.  I need to stop talking to her.  I know that sounds harsh but I really do.  I keep trying to build a relationship with her but honestly, I don't really want a relationship with someone who is so...

horrible.

Always a tornado.

Things are changing rapidly because I am allowing them to.  As I just said, "There are dreamers and there are people who actually pursue opportunities that turn their dreams to reality. I don't want to be a dreamer."

I knew there was no room for growth at my current job so I applied for a position at a law firm.  Now I am a few days away from starting my new job as a paralegal.  Goodbye job, hello possible career.

I was recently asked to write for a book publishing company on the side and I agreed to do so.  Today I resigned from that opportunity.  It was not where I found my bliss.  I want to continue working on my own personal pieces and possibly collaborate with some friends on a LGBT blog.

Now, about my parents. Always a tough topic for me.  My dad and I are building a closer relationship.  He's been very supportive of my choices.  My mother and I aren't doing well because she's not supportive of my choices.  I don't care.  Not her life, and frankly, I am done with her putting me down when I know that I have a lot of reasons to be proud of myself.

I've been feeling a little bit scared here of late.  I'm scared because I don't know if I want to move.  I'm scared because I don't know if I will like my new job.  I'm scared because I'm afraid I won't get the same amount of overtime as my old job.  I'm scared because my mom hates me and I'm afraid she won't be there for me if I fall.  I'm scared because I'm up to my fucking neck in loans.  I'm scared because I really don't have anyone who has my back around here.  I live in a town where I don't really have anyone.  I have myself.  Me, myself, my tiny little apartment, and a best friend who doesn't really ...

I don't even know.  She's iffy.

I kind of feel like I'm being blown around by a tornado and eventually I'll find something to grab onto.  But in the meantime I'm just scared out of my mind.

Whenever life settles down, I have this tendency to stir things back up.  But winners are never idle.  I don't want to get comfortable in a shitty job and a shitty position in life and NOT pursue the writing career that fits me best.  I'm going to continue to stir things up until I'm content with the outcome.  This may take my whole life, but it will be worth every tornado.

You know, I often wonder if I'll ever be content.  Things always feel fine and dandy but then I stir shit up again.  Maybe being blown around wildly with nothing to grab onto is in my nature.

In other news, I've been really relating to "Nothing Gold Can Stay" by Robert Frost here of late.  His writing always helps me understand where I am in life.  Maybe one day my writing will help someone else understand where they are in life.

not giving up.

I was just about to get a shower when I happened across a link that led to a Gaga interview.  I watched the whole thing (it can be found here) and I can't believe the incredible amount of parallels between her and me in regards to her journey.

Gaga discusses how she lived in an apartment alone and cherished her loneliness, starting at 20 years old.  She had three jobs to pay her rent and came home to a quiet apartment.  She focused on the appearance of "artist" as opposed to the action of making art, which led to a cocaine addiction.

At one point it clicked and she stopped focusing on the appearance and worked on the action.  She also removed people who got in the way of her art-making existence.

I feel like this woman was put on earth with the sole purpose of keeping me focused.  I swear to you, every time I stray she always puts me right back in my place.  This interview just put me back in my place.

Okay, so I removed everyone from my life that got in my way.  I removed the alcohol, because blacking out four or five nights a week was not assisting my dream of becoming a writer.  I hid in my apartment now for over a month and spent that month reflecting on the action of writing and determining my next moves.  I've made more headway in the last past four weeks than I've made in the last past five years.

I sit in my apartment, cherish my loneliness, and spend most of my time improving my craft and looking for routes off of the beaten path.  I've focused on self improvement and have made a few advancements at my job in the last past few weeks.  I'm a hard worker.

My friends are upset and mad.  They're upset because they miss me and they're mad because I won't bend for them.  Yes, I go to see them now and then.  Last night I went out with Keely.  But honestly, I don't want a very active social life right now.  I want to focus on my writing, my job, and furthering my education.  Because those are more important to me than blacking out four or five times a week.

I went to two Gaga concerts and at the first one she said something that made everything click in my brain.  I was with Kevin at the time.

“Some women choose to follow men, and some women choose to follow their dreams. If you're wondering which way to go, remember that your career will never wake up and tell you that it doesn't love you anymore.”

Friends come and go, but real friends stick with you and understand when you put yourself first.  They even cheer you on and let you go on your way, even if it means you don't get to see them for awhile.  Life is too short and I've already fallen behind on my journey.  I don't know what I'm searching for but I'll let you know when I find it.  And I'm not fucking giving up until I find it.

Letters to the judge.

It's strange how things from your past come back to haunt you after you've pretty much blocked them out of your mind.  There is one thing in particular that I think will repeat itself in my mind many times.

In July of 2009 I lived with my boyfriend, his parents, his brother, and his brother's wife. I was in the Lehigh Valley visiting my parents and I received a phone call.  The caller informed me that my boyfriend (Kevin) was in jail and that his brother was dead.

Someone killed his brother.

Absolutely frightened, I tried to get in touch with his mother. She was in a psychiatric hospital, crying and screaming, "Nicole, he's dead, I saw him in the driveway, he was blue!"

Sure enough, Brian was dead.  Kevin's dad had shot and killed him with my dad's gun.

It was such a bizarre tragedy.  I came home to police tape, a disheveled bedroom, a little neighborhood boy praying in the front yard, and a big puddle of blood on the basement floor.

I remember visiting his father in jail once a week and Kevin's mother going far off the deep end.  Once she asked me if I could help her gather some of the blood from the carpet, because she wanted to rub it onto the plants in the garden that Brian grew her.

Kevin, horrified by this, took a knife, cut out the section of the carpet that had the blood stain, and threw it away.  We went out for ice cream to get it off of his mind, at which point he realized that he got his brother's blood all over his pants.

It was the worst funeral that I ever attended in my life.  I remember entering the door to a packed catholic church and hearing loud, loud sobbing from Brian's widowed wife.  My dad's eyebrows dropped and under his breath he whispered, "oh my god."

Brian was a scary man.  He threatened to kill me, my family, and pretty much anyone who got in his way.  I remember the utter rage that would consume his body.  I was absolutely horrified of him all of the time.  The stories that I have involving Brian are stories that you would otherwise only see in a movie.

The whole incident that resulted in Brian's death began with him holding a gun and threatening to kill Kevin. Kevin's dad used another gun to try to scare Brian away from Kevin.  To this day, everyone tells me that they're thankful I wasn't home that weekend.  My dad is thoroughly convinced that I would have been killed that night.  Brian hated me more than anything.

So why am I writing about this?  To get it off of my chest.

I recently found four or five letters that we sent to the judge prior to Dave's sentencing.  Including the letter that I sent.  What a total mind fuck.  This, along with many other things in my bizarre life, will never disappear. Just add it to the list, I suppose.

House plants.

Just sent the following texts to a friend and I think it sums everything up pretty well:

"I've been very... to myself. But I like it. I feel like I'm unintentionally prepping myself artistically. I think I need to go with this whole isolation thing because I feel like it's dragging me somewhere on purpose. And if it's gonna bring me somewhere worthwhile (in regards to my writing)... I don't want to miss the train. I work on my writing every day, as you know, and I can sense that something bigger is on its way." 

 And then I felt guilty. Because in my isolation I am alienating my friends. I didn't want them to think I'm straying away from them because I don't love them, so I posted the following on Facebook to justify my separation:

 "It's scary how much I love to be alone. I was born to write, I guess. I feel like I'm marinating in my loneliness, and once I suck up all of the yummy lonely juice I'll be ready to write a best seller or something. Ha." 

 Best seller.. most likely not. But I just want everyone to know that my separation is not malicious in any way. I just need some time to reflect on my art form and to expand my horizons in regards to my writing career. Sculpting my skill is something that is very important to me and it is something that I can only do without company.

 Unless you count Lucinda. (My house plant).