I think I'd rather sit in time-out

I don't really know what started me on this line of thought this morning, but there I was in the shower thinking about how much I really don't like doing things wrong, or saying "I'm sorry." I've gotten better over the years at backing down when I know I should and admitting when I was wrong, but it still feels like a concession of my pride whenever I have to say sorry. Even when I know I was wrong. (I know, I know...it's a character flaw.) When I was little (but old enough to still remember this clearly) I would get sent to time-out when I did something naughty. Time-out was not in my own room (because that wouldn't have really been that bad. I had books and toys in my room) it was in my parents room; specifically on the brown chair in their room. I was told I needed to sit there and "think about what you've done until you can come out and say you're sorry." I won't go into detail about the delightful behavior that followed me getting sat in that chair but I will tell you that I usually ended up with a sore throat from all the delightfulness. Since I'm not still sitting on the brown chair in my parents room you know that eventually I would give in, march out, and apologize for whatever behavior had put me there in the first place. I don't get sent to time-out anymore for poor behavior, and it's probably a good thing because who knows how long I would sit in there now. I have not gotten any less stubborn over the years.

I also have not learned how to gracefully listen to someone tell me I did something wrong. I like to do things right the first time, and if I happen to make a mistake I would much rather people just ignore it until I can fix it. Being told I need to do something better or fix something I already did always makes me want to cry. I think it's why I refuse to learn new things...like how to ski or snowboard, play guitar, cook...or really any other hobby that other people might dabble at now and then. I tend to stick to things I know I'll be good at, because then people won't really see me make mistakes and I won't have to crawl under a rock and hide until the shame and embarrassment have passed.

Sweet Valley High (this post has nothing to do with those books....seeing as I was not allowed to read them.)

I was not popular in high school. I don't regret this, I would've had to be a completely different person to be one of the popular kids, and I sort of am fond of the girl I was or at least who she turned out to be. So, no, I do not wish to go back and change my status in high school...but it doesn't mean that there wasn't a part of me in high school that longed to be popular and date the popular boys. I longed for it so hard. And a part of that has never gone away. I still wish to be one of the popular kids, and I still get my feelings hurt when someone I view as one of the cool kids ignores me or very clearly doesn't really like me or obviously does not think I am quite cool enough. Well, I'll tell you what...I am a big hit with my family, my friends, and my boyfriend. And I bet some of the people that come and take class from me think that I'm a cool kid.

If you're like me and sometimes wish to be one of the cool kids...guess what? You probably are. At least to me, and I think that counts.

Sweet Dreams... are not something I regularly have

I have scary dreams a lot. It's why I try not to watch crime shows or anything too close to bed time...I will make those shows into my dreams and I will wind up being the main character of some horrific story. It's stressful and I've lost a lot of good sleep that way, and sure do love sleeping. Therefore, I cut out the scary/stressful shows.

However last night I had one of the most terrifying dreams I have ever had and I have no idea where it came from. I was having to get my right leg amputated at the knee, I have no idea why. But I was scared and I was destroyed. I was crying and crying and crying, there would be no more dancing for me..there wouldn't even be any more walking, I was going to have to be in a wheelchair. During my dream I was in the chair/bed type thing getting ready for the surgery except they weren't knocking me out. They were giving me small doses of drugs; they wanted to give me just enough to where I would be okay with them cutting into me. Except every time they would start I could still feel it and I would scream for them to stop, begging them to give me more drugs or put me under. But they wouldn't. I luckily woke up before the procedure was finished. Unluckily I woke up at 4am and my heart was racing so fast that I could not get back to sleep.

I looked up at dreamdictionary.com what it means....and apparently it stands for feeling limited in movements and where I want to go in life. Except I don't think I feel that way, I feel pretty good about the movement I making in getting to where I want to be in my life. Hmmm.

A few things to start off the week

Sometimes I look at those legs over there on the side of my blog and get a little jealous. I want them to be my legs, because then that would mean I would own those socks (and beautiful hard wood floors). Alas, they are not my legs, I could probably go out and find me some socks like that and make my leg's dreams come true...but I'm too lazy to go on that search. I am even too lazy to search the internets for them...and I do believe that that's the definition of lazy right there.

In other news....I am totally loving the new format of So You Think You Can Dance. I do not love all the finalists, nor do I love all the All Stars (Comfort, I'm talking to you) but I love the show so much I just wish it could be on every night for my viewing pleasure! Also, I can never get enough of talking about it...so if you would like to chat me up about it sometime I am all ears (and eyes.)

Oh, remember when I said that I found that I could motivate myself to work out if I just reminded myself that my parents worked out everyday? Yeah...that quit working. I need new motivation cause I'm just not finding it on my own. The weather isn't helping out either...it's just motivating me to stay in sweats...and I totally don't need to be in shape to wear sweats.

Lucky You

I just turned in my portfolio for Poetry, putting it together I realized that I really liked some of the things I had written and they were all pretty different. I don't want to lose this form of expression, and I believe that just like everything else, if you don't practice you won't get better. So, I've made the decision to dedicate a post each week to a poem. I'm going to try to continue expanding my knowledge on different forms and styles. It's like I'm putting myself is summer school, for fun.

Here is one to start us off:

Lost, and finally found

I followed the wrong star home
and ended up here
stars dancing under my feet
water holding it’s breath above my head
I’m afraid to move (or even breathe)
I might upset the balance that’s so precariously upheld

This place is nothing like the one I know
where magic isn’t possible
and gravity is never defied
where people move forward, determined looks
and frown lines etched deep into their skin
they never look up to see another’s eyes

I followed the wrong star home
and I think I’ll stay here
until the moon tells me it’s safe
or the sun urges me awake

Judgement is swift and fair

I can be judgmental. I try not to be but sometimes I have to be. It reminds me of this:

(from storypeople)

I think there are some people who just want to be judged an idiot. Otherwise they just wouldn't do and say stupid things. But since they do I feel it's my right, nay, my obligation to judge them. I know that when I do or say something ridiculous that other people are sure to be judging me so really it's only fair that I return the favor.

Dear friends,

I am going to do a little bit of bragging for myself because I'm proud of some things I've done, and I've learned that often times if you don't toot your own horn no one else is gonna do it for you. The noise that horn makes sure sounds good sometimes.

I am getting close to ending my third quarter back in college. I am an old college student, but everyday I am proud of the fact that I am back in school finishing what I started all those years ago. This quarter I took two writing courses, and I've shared some of what I've written on this here blog page. It was scary for me to share what I wrote, because I'd never had to do that before, in the past my papers had been between me and my professors, I did not have to worry about anyone else seeing them.

Today I got back one of the papers I had written, something that was unlike anything I had written before. It was a short story, very short, it was only 5 pages long. However, on the very last page my professor had written this: "Absolutely brilliant! Bravo! I love this - and Nora's daughter's story! I'm in awe!" I think I teared up a little bit when I read that. Something I wrote was brilliant? I could put someone in awe? Unbelievable.

Friends, I wrote a story and someone thought it was brilliant. And even though it was a very short story and even if no one else ever sees it I am proud of myself for that.

Love,

Jill

P.S. - Being proud of yourself feels really good...you should be proud of yourself too, share what you're proud of and I'll proud of you too :)