So here we go

I decided to drop out of SCSU.

I’ve been agonizing over it these last couple of days (mainly last night and early into this morning), but I finally made a decision this afternoon. I know it sounds crazy, but hear me out.

I already know what I want to do with my life. I want to run my own web design business, and I want to write fiction. I also want to continue running my non-profit, and I want to start up something I’ve been sitting on for a while. (HA, I bet you thought I was gonna give it away! :P ) I have an AA in Digital Arts Technology: Multimedia/Web Authoring, and am currently working in my field, so I already have a foot in the door. I also have a high school diploma for Culinary Arts, so I can always fall back on that. While studying literature and writing in a school setting may be beneficial, I don’t think it’s really going to launch my career. Bottom line is, I need to pursue my dreams. I need to put all of my time into the things I love and the things I want to do. Taking classes is not going to help me finish my novel or get my business really going. I know that a BA in English couldn’t hurt, but I feel that this is not the path for me. I feel that I need to “get in the trenches” (as Gary V. would say) and get going.

I already talked to my mom about this, and she supports me. I also talked to Mike about it all — before I even made a decision — and I know that he supports me no matter what I choose. I know that some are going to look down on me and think I am making a mistake, but guess what: it’s my mistake to make. I want to get out there and experience life. I am tired of living in the box. I want to do things for myself and see how far I can go. I’m not knocking education in any way; I think that education is very important. However, there is only so much education you can get before you have to get out and live. I think I’ve been clinging to school as a safety net, and it’s time to let go of the safety nets and fall (or fly).

Anyway.

Mike and I went to see Taken last night. It was an excellent film. I was on the edge of my seat and cheered Liam Neeson’s character on the entire time. I thought it did a great job exposing human trafficking and entertaining at the same time. Some people in the theater — mainly one girl — didn’t get it at all. I thought the ending fit, but I won’t spoil it for anyone. Go see it if you haven’t already!

Amy

I couldn’t think of anything to blog about today — until I read Sarcastica’s Out of the Ordinary series (read part one and part two). This happened almost two years ago, but it still gives me chills whenever I think about it. I might not have everything straight, since I’m telling this secondhand, but I’ll do my best to tell it right.

A couple of years ago, Sandy and my goddaughter Kaylene moved in a new apartment with Sandy’s new boyfriend, Ryan. Ryan has a daughter, Kadyn (my friend Tyla’s daughter), that he took for a couple days every other weekend at the time. The two little girls shared a room, and Sandy and Ryan had their own room. They kept a camera baby monitor in the girls’ room so they could make sure the girls didn’t play when they were supposed to be sleeping.

Sandy started noticing that Kaylene would stay up talking to herself at night. Kay would sometimes yell or tell whomever she was talking to to stop. Sandy didn’t think much of it at first; all little kids have imaginary friends. Hell, I had two and so did my little sister. We figured she would just grow out of it.

She didn’t. She talked about “my friend Amy” all of the time. She continued to stay up late talking to Amy, and sometimes she would just sit in bed saying “no” over and over.

Things started getting stranger and stranger. Sometimes the camera in the girls’ room wouldn’t work, or it would fall from its position. One night Kay sat screaming in her bed, and Sandy had to go in there and ask her what was wrong.

“She won’t leave me alone,” Kay wailed.

“Who won’t leave you alone?”

“Amy.”

When Sandy tried to soothe Kay and get her to sleep in her bed, Kay said that Amy wouldn’t let her. Sandy put Kaylene in Kadyn’s bed that night, and Kaylene finally went to sleep.

Sandy was convinced that Amy was real at this point. We both knew that no kid’s imaginary friend would scare them. Still, she wasn’t exactly hurting Kay and Sandy and Ryan couldn’t just pick up and break the lease on their apartment.

The screaming didn’t stop, though. Sandy started finding random and unexplainable bruises on Kay. She and I talked about it many times, and both of us came to the conclusion that no one else was hurting Kaylene. We became convinced that it was Amy.

Kay would say that she didn’t like Amy anymore, and the camera continued to blur out or fall in the girls’ room. Finally, Sandy and Ryan were able to move out of the apartment, and gradually Kay forgot about Amy. Amy apparently couldn’t leave the apartment, so Kay was safe.

I’d always had a weird feeling about that particular room and the apartment in general, and it was definitely not my first — or last — experience with the other side.


I’ve got lots of ghost stories, so I think I’ll start posting one every Friday. I’m always off on Fridays and usually have extra time, so it’ll be fun!

Share your ghost stories in the comments below, or blog about it and comment with a link! (:

I am a woman of many distractions

I enjoy taking risks. I love new things. Yeah, I’m usually a little anxious about it and sometimes a little nervous, but I love the thrill and excitement, the feeling of complete and total unknown that makes my belly do little flip flops.

I’ve been trying to be more independent, to do things for myself that my parents used to take care of. I’ve been working on big projects and spending more time than is probably healthy on the computer putting those dreams to reality.

I’ve been sitting on an idea for a while now, and I’m almost ready to get started. It’s a big risk. Just starting it is going to cost me a lot more money than I’d like to spend right now, especially with a particular Sunfire that needs a new blower motor and has something wrong with the shifter. It’s going to take a while for me to launch it. It’s going to take a lot of work, and it’s going to add a lot to my current daily workload. Still, it’s something that I’m passionate about and something that I think could be beneficial to others. I live for this sort of thing. I love working on more than one thing at once. It’s how I thrive.

I’m excited and anxious to get started, but also a little nervous. It’s the feeling that makes my life so vibrant and full of wonder.

So I ask you, what moves you? What makes you truly happy?

I hate New Haven

I had my first class at the “big girl school” last night. I decided to leave early so I’d have plenty of time to get gas, get there, park, get my parking pass, buy the other book I needed, get some dinner, and then find my class. I felt a little nervous but mostly exhilarated at going somewhere new and meeting new people. A new semester always gets me going, but a new semester at a new school for a new degree? I was really pumped.

I made it to campus without any real problems, aside from The Deathtrap — aka Lisa Mazda — refusing to go faster than 40 mph. (I got passed an awful lot and people kept riding my ass. I wanted to slam on the brakes a few times, but I was afraid the car wouldn’t get going again.) When I got to the first parking lot, I stopped and asked the parking lot monitor or security guard or whatever where I could park so I could walk to the campus police building and get a parking pass. He spit out directions at me a couple of times, even though I had no idea where I was going and I thought I could just park in the lot right there.

I tried to follow this guy’s directions, but I’m not familiar with the area at all. It was the first time I’d driven up there alone and the third time I’d been on campus, period. I’ve driven to the city once before for a concert but that was relatively easy to find. Needless to say, I ended up at some random magnet school, surrounded by one-way streets and evil, unfriendly New Havenians. I pulled into the school’s parking lot and tried not to cry, then called Nikki. She told me to try and come back the way I came and to meet her in the parking lot. Naturally, all of the streets shifted and I ended up on a one-way street to hell.

I called her as I was driving and told her I was lost, again. With my eyes bugging out of my head, I looked around for some sort of landmark so she could come get me. Finally, I found a Shell station next to a Popeyes. She told me she and her dad were on their way, and then I was alone.

I knew that inside of that Shell station would be a guy standing at the counter looking bored, but behind him would be a wall full of cigarettes. All I wanted was one of those cigarettes, but I didn’t dare leave my car. I didn’t want the mean New Havenians to see me cry. So I called my mom and cried to her.

“I’m lost,” I wailed.

“You have to calm down,” she said.

Five minutes later, I turned to my right and a street sign magically appeared. “Oh, fuck. I’m on Whalley Ave*. All I have to do is take a right out of here. Fuck.”


*Whalley Ave is the street that leads to campus. Yeah, I know.


“See? You usually just have to calm down and then you can figure out where you are,” my mom said.

I thought about how much money I had on me. I could just buy a pack of cigarettes and a lighter and everything would be all better. Fuck this quitting smoking bullshit.

Nervously, my head swiveled around and around looking for Nikki. When you’re lost, ten minutes feels like a damn hour. Finally, when I thought I would either go insane or have to break down and buy a pack of smokes, I saw Nikki — my hero — walking to The Deathtrap. I let my mom go and opened the door so Nikki could hear me (the window doesn’t like going up once it’s down).

“I hate New Haven. It sucks. And yes, I’m aware that I sound like a two-year-old,” I said, tears spilling down my cheeks. I couldn’t even control myself at that point.

“Aww, it’s okay,” she said. I bashed New Haven a little more and then someone at the pump behind me beeped.

I thought about telling them to learn how to back out of a space, but Nikki told me to just pull up alongside her dad’s van. I closed my mouth and moved so the dumb New Havenian could get out. Nikki and I followed her dad back to the sprawling, disgustingly huge campus that is SCSU, and then I was on my own again. I parked and set out to find the campus police building, campus map discreetly in hand and my kickass Alice in Wonderland tote on my shoulder. It only took a few minutes, and then I went back to my car and put the sticker on it.

My next stop was the student center. I could do this. Nothing was going to get in my way.

Except suddenly the campus seemed a lot bigger than I remembered. And it was getting dark. The buildings seemed bigger and the map didn’t make any damn sense. It was freaking cold and my stubborn ass was too proud to ask for help. I wandered around, trying not to look like I was lost. I’m enjoying the campus scenery, I thought to myself. The cold stung my face and my legs. I couldn’t remember why I hadn’t brought along an extra coat and a thicker pair of gloves (and possibly a moving space heater). It got darker and darker and I started to think I was never going to find the building when I saw it.

From outside I could see the campus Dunkin Donuts. I practically ran inside and bought myself a coffee and breakfast sandwich. (The girls working were sort of rude but sort of nice. I guess New Havenians are just weird like that. She was super polite but ignored me and slowly wrote something down while I waited for her to finish taking my order.) I shoved the sandwich down my throat (it didn’t taste as good as it does here in Waterbury), and then set out for the bookstore.

Everywhere I went, people stared at me. I was seriously starting to wonder whether I had a sign on my head. Maybe my nose had fallen off from the cold. I browsed the bookstore — which is a Barnes and Noble disguised as SCSU Bookstore — and found my book. I paid and went back upstairs. This time I went to the student center cafeteria. I sat down, opened up a letter from one of my pen pals, and ignored everything around me. I wrote back to her and it still wasn’t time for my class. I began to think that coming this early had been a bad, bad idea.

I decided to go find my class. The room was listed as B303, and I had no idea what B meant. I went across the way and into the building my class is in — I didn’t get lost this time but it was still really cold! — and found my class relatively quickly. It still wasn’t time, so I sat on the floor in the hallway with a bunch of other students and endured more stares. (Maybe my sign read, NOOB HERE?)

Of course, I had to use the bathroom so I wandered back downstairs and tried to find a restroom. I must have walked by it three times before I asked someone where it was, and she told me it was around the corner. I also left my coffee in the stall and didn’t realize it until I was already halfway back to my classroom.

The class went well, though. I like my professor so far. She’s four months pregnant and told us she can’t guarantee that she won’t burp or fart or burst into tears. We’re going to be studying and writing about the five senses to work on our writing. It seems interesting and I liked my first homework assignment so we shall see.

Of course, once the class was over it was time to leave. I had to find my car — which was a little easier this time — and when I finally got back to it the first thing I did was call Mike. “You’re going to keep me awake,” I told him. (It was almost nine.)

I took a left out of the parking lot and then a left at the light; even though Nikki had told me to take a right, right didn’t look right. After about ten minutes I started to get the nagging feeling that I was lost. “I think I went the wrong way,” I said to the speakerphone Mike. Another five minutes passed. “Fuck, I’m lost. I gotta let you go. I’m gonna call my dad.”

Dad — my other hero — used his GPS and got me out of the crazy New Havenian network of one-way streets and back onto 69. By the time I crossed my city line, I probably would have kissed the ground if I didn’t want to have an A Christmas Story moment and have the cops pull my frozen lips off the pavement.

Anyway, I’m exhausted and achy and exhausted, so I’m going to bed. I’m not looking forward to driving up there tomorrow, and I’m not too sure about going to the “big girl school.” I’m pretty freaking determined, though.

They crawl in like a cockroach, leaving babies in my bed

After I published yesterday’s post, I went downstairs for a shower. It didn’t take long for me to completely freak out about what I’d written. Of course, it also didn’t take long for me to have a total nervous breakdown.

It’s hard for me to talk about these things, but I have severe trust issues because of many bad things that have been done to me. It’s so bad that my feathers will get ruffled at the slightest thing, no matter how innocent the intentions of the other person were. I’m not going to go into detail, but there was a misunderstanding on both parts and I freaked out. Completely. It was understandable, from all sides, but what I did wrong was shut the other person out. Completely.

Last night I finally let Mike pick me up and finally told him things I’d never told him, things I’d never told anyone. We spent three hours being completely honest with each other about anything and everything, and even though this weekend was straight out of a Lifetime movie it was so emotionally disastrous, I think our relationship is a lot stronger now. It was really, really hard to tell him these things but once I did I felt as if I could breathe again.

After the hard stuff was over with, we spent the rest of the time telling things we love about each other. It’s a game we play every once in a while, but we’ve never gone that in depth. He literally told me he loves the way I run, because it’s “doofy looking and cute” And he loves my nose. And lots of other stuff.

It seems like every time we go through the proverbial storm, we always come out stronger than we were before. This weekend was an emotional shipwreck, but I feel even more connected to him now. I’m pretty sure that’s a good sign that it’s meant to be.

I felt kind of guilty about yesterday’s post for a while, but then I realized that someone else out there has to feel the same. Someone else out there may have needed that horribly depressing post to know that it’s okay to feel that way.

I’m still pretty shaken from everything but last night helped a lot. I hadn’t realized that these things bothered me so much still, but I couldn’t deny it to myself anymore.