“It’s not about being in a relationship, engaged, or married. It’s about being secured, happy, safe, relieved, and feeling good. It’s about having a peaceful state of mind and sleeping at night without the fear of losing what you’ve got. It’s about being yourself and not someone else.

It’s about feeling loved, happy, respected, understood and appreciated. It’s all about the right person and the right time.”

– Unknown


An Apology

It seems that that life just likes to hit me all at once. It really, really does.

First of all, even though I’m posting this on the Internet most of you have probably noticed that I’m trying to remain at least a little bit anonymous, correct? If you haven’t then I guess I just informed you.

It’s like this, though. I’m trying to remain somewhat anonymous for a reason. No, I’m not on the run. No, I haven’t done anything against the law. I’m really not a bad person at all, at least, I think so. Though, I really don’t have anything to hide. Anything, that is, except for certain feelings toward certain people. And I hate it. It’s so stressful.

That’s why I rant on here.

It’s weird, though. I’ve tried to just keep a sort of “digital journal”, not on the Internet, and I completely didn’t keep up with it. Something about posting it online motivates me to keep writing and I don’t know what it is.

But that’s not what I was getting at before either.

I want to stay anonymous in case someone that I happen to write about reads this blog and is offended by something in it. Or, y’know, thinks along the lines of “If that was me they were talking about, I’d be offended”.

I don’t want to offended anybody. That’s part of the reason that I’m ranting on here: so that I don’t actually say anything to anyone. I love my family; I love my friends, and I would never ever want to hurt them in any way, shape, or form.

But I have.

Someone in my family found my blog and read the post I wrote before this and, unfortunately, it had something written about her in it. It wasn’t meant for her eyes. Ever. But she called me crying the next morning after talking to another member of my family. I was painted the bad guy.

So here it is, in case she reads this: I’M SORRY.

I told her over and over again, but I’m not sure that she listened to me or that she understood what I was saying. She was upset and angry. I can understand that, but I honestly don’t think that she was able to see from my point-of-view.

Nothing that I’m writing on here was meant for her eyes. Or any of my family’s. Or friend’s. Or acquaintances. Anybody.

I know that I rant on here and I’m not going to apologize for doing so, but it’s not something that I attempt to do constantly either. I’m not constantly angry at somebody or something. Most of the time it’s worry or paranoia or some sort of confusion. Most of the time it’s me trying to sort out my feelings so that I can understand myself better.

So no, I’m not going to reveal who I am. Not now, not ever. I’m never going to lie either, though. Why should I? This is my outlet and lying will only hinder me.

And so, I will write.


From a “Concerned Citizen”

Earlier today my fiance took me and my kids to run a few errands around town and afterward we waited because he had one of his own. Plus two of my children had fallen asleep.

We were sitting in the parking lot of the local video store and a truck puls in front of my fiance’s car. Diagonally.

And took up THREE parking spaces.

Out of the truck came a slightly overweight man who seemed incapable of taking his eyes off his cell phone; I think he was texting. Along with him came an overweight teen male, maybe 16-years old, and three young children no older than 10 years old.

I was disgusted by the older man’s behavior in front of the children, both the parking space and the cell phone incidents.

So disgusted, in fact, that I decided to leave a note.

Yes. A note.

I happen to carry a notepad and pen with me at all times. After rewriting it around three times, the note ended up something like this:

“Dear Sir or Madam:
If you need so much room
to get out of your vehicle,
try losing weight not taking
up three parking spaces.

A Concerned Citizen”

It’s the first note I’ve ever left someone, especially just leaving it on their car, and I was super nervous. I tried to be inconspicuous about it and make like the person who wrote it, a.k.a: me, wasn’t the woman in the car across from him as he parked and got out of his truck who was gaping in “WTF” surprise-horror. (But I was, unfortunately.)

That, and the note read kind of rudely if you don’t understand the underlying message, which he most likely did not.

I wasn’t talking about losing physical weight. I meant his ego.