I like giants too...

Lately I've been thinking about how very tiny I am. Not in the sense that I am short, but rather, that in the whole wide universe I am like an ameoba. Not even. Tinier than that. More like a subparticle.

I think Kimya Dawson said it best in her song "I like Giants":

when i go for a drive i like to pull off to the side
of the road, turn out the lights, get out, and look up at the sky
and i do this to remind me that i'm really really tiny
in the grand scheme of things and sometimes this terrifies me
but it's only really scary 'cause it makes me feel serene
in a way i never thought i'd be because i've never been
so grounded and so humbled and so one with everything
i am grounded, i am humbled, i am one with everything

rock and roll is fun but if you ever hear someone
say you are huge look at the moon, look at the stars, look at the sun
look at the ocean and the desert and the mountains and the sky
say i am just a speck of dust inside a giant's eye
i am just a speck of dust inside a giant's eye

when i saw geneviève i really liked it when she said
what she said about the giant and the lemmings on the cliff
she said "i like giants- especially girl giants. 'cause all girls feel
too big sometimes, regardless of their size"

when i go for a drive i like to pull off to the side
of the road and run and jump into the ocean in my clothes
and i'm smaller than a poppyseed inside a great big bowl
and the ocean is a giant that can swallow me whole
so i swim for all salvation and i swim to save my soul
but my soul is just a whisper trapped inside a tornado
so i flip to my back and i float and i sing
i am grounded, i am humbled, i am one with everything
i am grounded, i am humbled, i am one with everything

so i talked to geneviève and almost cried when she said
that the giant on the cliff wished that she was dead
and the lemmings on the cliff wished that they were dead
so the giant told the lemmings why they ought to live instead
and when she thought up all those reasons that they ought to live instead
it made her reconsider all the sad thoughts in her head
so thank you geneviève, 'cause you take what is in your head
and you make things that are so beautiful and share them with your friends

we all become important when we realize our goal
should be to figure out our role within the context of the whole
and yeah, rock and roll is fun but if you ever hear someone
say you are huge look at the moon, look at the stars, look at the sun
look at the ocean and the desert and the mountains and the sky
and say i am just a speck of dust inside a giant's eye
i am just a speck of dust inside a giant's eye
i am just a speck of dust inside a giant's eye
and i don't wanna make her cry

'cause i like giants.




I feel so very lost. Like my soul is dying. But sometimes I feel better when I think about how small and tiny I am. Then the weight of the world doesn't seem to be pushing on me. Like, have you ever seen those film clips where they pan out from this person, out and out, over the town, over the state, over the country, out through the atmosphere, out into space, and out and out and out? That's what I imagine when I am feeling so stressed. Because it makes everything fall into proportion for me (if only for a little while). I guess I like to feel like a speck of dust inside a giant's eye, because then it's not my job to save the world. My only job is to make myself happy.

Anyway, I thought I'd mention what's on my mind.

Love and giants,
Mimi

Right now I am eating hard boiled eggs and looking at titanium wedding bands. I am relieved because Stefan and I are pretty close in what our ideas are for a perfect wedding. The other night we were talking about weddings and marriage and whatnot. I showed him the wedding band I liked. Nice and simple. Titanium. I think the two (his and hers) together are $175. Simple and cheap= happy Mimi.

My great-grandmother (I call her Mammaw) and my great-grandfather (Pappaw) got married when they were teenagers. They lived together in a mud-hut on the side of a hill in west Texas and grew watermelons. Mammaw would have to kill snakies that fell through her ceiling. But they loved each other, and were married until Pappaw died 70 or so years later. So that's how I figured I would know who to marry. The man that I could be happy living in a mud hut with. Stefan is that for me. If he hadn't a cent to his name, I'd still marry him. That's why I talk about marriage and weddings and all of that.

My idea of a perfect wedding would be for us to just get hitched down at city hall with my family and his family in attendance. I don't think I'd even bother with a bridesmaid. I would buy my dress on super clearance, or make it myself. Stefan already has a tux. It would be really short and sweet, and no one would have to inhale a bunch of beach-wedding sand, or die of heat, or feel like they had to be dressed to the nines. Nope. Just a nice afternoon wedding. And then we'd go get some dinner. Maybe at Da Ru Ma's or something of that nature. We'd all stuff ourselves, then that'd be it. Stefan and I would start our honeymoon. We like the idea of a Carribean criuse or something like that.

So anyhoo. I am now crushing the eggshells, and looking at cupcakes.

To Stefan- I know you'll ask me someday. I am being a very good little bunny waiting for you. I love you so much. When we do get married, I'll be the happiest person ever. But I am still happy just waiting.

The Blues

I have been feeling awfully depressed lately. Just a real sucky feeling, like I've no purpose. I have also been quiet. I am simply not in the mood to really say much. I wish to express my feelings in such a way that it can't be misconstrued; unlike my words, which often are. People seem to have a certain perception of me, and when I don't fit that mold, they get very upset and huffy with me.

In a way, I suppose I feel like just floating naked in a big pool with nobody around. Perhaps I wish this because I want to cleanse myself of all these bad vibes inside me. I can't put up with people at all right now. I feel so blue, that I bought myself some blue yarn today at Micheals. This may seem like a irrelevant detail, but it makes perfect sense to me. My sorrow seems enveloping, like a huge blanket. I guess I just want to wallow in it for a while, so I can come back stronger.

My parents keep saying that I seem to have an "inner-termoil", which I agree with. I feel like my soul is just dying. However, I am (usually) an optimist, so I feel as though I can get through this by myself. I've been through worse. Happiness is something I have to work at, because all my life have struggled with the inability to live in the moment. My mind has been wandering more than usual, and trails off into a blankness. I'm not really thinking about anything in particular. Just existing. I don't really feel alive.

The good news is that I am trying to do something about my sorrow. While buying my blue yarn, I also bought a box. I really love little alters, places where I can meditate and find tranquility. I have already primed the outside. I think the outside will be blue, with decopaged angels maybe. I am undecide about the inside, but I do know I will have a little candle. Maybe some incense. I think I will also have some stones and meditation cards. Perhaps I might even make the cards myself. When I get the opportunity to take a picture of my box, I'll be sure to post it.

Anyways...Since I'm in the listening mood, why not leave me a comment on how you get out of your blues?

Thoughts at 2 in the morning

Anyone who really knows me probably would make the connection that I am pissed about the media coverage for the case concerning the Shawn Hornbeck boy. The media pisses me off enough as it is, but I mean really, what low will they not stoop to? It has become apparent that he was sexually abused, and so I am even moreso outraged.

Though I did not see the telecast of the Hornbeck family being interviewed by Oprah, I did see several clips of it. Including one that was like a drop in a puddle. Let me see if I can explain the ripple effect that has occured inside of me. But first I must tell you about the droplet. The clip that I saw of Oprah interviewing just the parents made me feel very heartbroken. Oprah posed the question as to weither or not they (the parents) knew if their son had been sexually abused. The father says to Oprah that they believe so, despite not having their son tell them directly. This hurt me much because I can only imagine what my Dad felt after I told. (But then again, no one ever asked my Dad if he thought I was being abused either.)

Since viewing this clip, I have tried to follow the case as it unfolds. (This is difficult seeing as how the media infurates me so.) There have been several mis-informed, cold-hearted, and downright dumb newsreporters who've given me no choice but to write a few things that only life experience can give you. Hopefully if you're reading this, you will soak this up. Here are some ripples that I have to let out of my system:

1.) Fear + a child + twisted reality = illogical behavior. Many a newscastor have asked, "Why did he not leave the situation when it's so obvious to us (the outside world) that he could have?" Oh, ye of little intellect, let me tell you. I could have told my parents on probably over two-hundred different occasions, but I didn't. Why? Because of FEAR. Fear is when you feel so distressed that whether the threat is real or imagined, your most basic survival insticts kick in. Now, this is not to say that your instincts are rational. I stayed in the situation for two long years because my entire frame of mind was warped. I thought that he could drown me in their pool out back and make it look like an accident. I thought he'd stop, or that I could make him stop. The reasons that I stayed, despite the many oppurtunities that I had to leave, can't be explained in such a way that a person who has never been abused could truly understand. Shawn Hornbeck, like all other abused people was AFRAID. Stop trying to force logic into an illogical system of thought. What I fear for him is that the court will use this information of his internet access against him.

2.)Now the next ripple. This is because I feel like no one else is saying it. I look at Shawn's picture, and I see the saddness and complex mix of emotions in his eyes that I had. I know that everyone is looking at this boy and wanting to just ask questions. But I know he'll give the answers when he's ready. I look at Shawn's picture, and I think about all the children I have seen go through the Sexual Abuse Treatment Program, and I think about myself, and my family, and everything. I wish I could just give him, and all the other kids a hug, and just say "I know", without having to really say it. I know; I don't need to grill you with questions. You don't have to give me answers. I just know.

3.)Duh. This is the ripple that makes me feel like people truly are stupid. The media keeps doing these "profile of a kiddnapper" type things about Michael Duvlin. These things almost make me laugh. Almost. Anyway, it really blows my mind that people would be shocked to know that a person who seemed normal and likeable could be such a monster. (It's kinda like saying that you're shocked that Miss America poops.) It's all just so surreal to me. I mean, really. Who in their right mind would think that somehow it's only the societal outcast who are child molesters? For anyone who is shocked that a person could be part of a normal and functioning society and still be a child molester...we need to talk. I mean, REALLY TALK.


I've said what I'm willing to share on a very viewable format. If what I've said makes you want to say something as well, please share. I like comments. It lets me know that someone, somewhere heard me. And that why I told in the first place.

Addiction

I have an addiction. It's a rather healthy one in my opinion, as it really does not hurt anyone (except perhaps my bank account, but what else is new?)

I am addicted to books. I love them. I hope that I can someday have my own personal library in my home. Do you remember the scene in "Beauty and the Beast", where Belle goes into the Beast's library? That's what I want. A big, fat library with shelves that reach the ceiling. With a fireplace, perhaps. Oh, and a big comfy chaise chair to curl up in.

The reason that I consider my obsession with books an addiction is that I love to look for books online, and write down the titles on a piece of paper, so someday I might buy them. And I have bought books in the past that I have never even opened, much less read. The value I place on books is like that of a squirrel, tenderly hiding away it's acorns. I am very selective, but sometimes judge too quickly and get a rotten one. However, I cannot bear to part with it, as I might need the contents someday. I have a book that I bought for about $25 at Elysian Fields titled, "Writing to Change the World". I have not read it, and don't really intend to. But I am attached to this book because I feel as though I may decide to change the world with what I write. (I doubt I have the true ability to, as no one really reads this blog anyway. Who would really care what a little confused white girl has to say?)

Books that I like have no common theme, except almost all of them are books of Non Fiction. I am not particularly fond of Fiction, as my schedule is so sporatic that I never know when I can come back to a story. (Plus, I've noticed a trend of "stupid girl" novels on the market, where women have "tragic" lives of shopping away their heartaches. Please, just hand me friggin' self-help, and I'll be fine.) The reason that I collect books is because books offer something that the internet can't: a hunt. You have to actually LOOK for the information. And on the way, you may find more that you thought you would. Plus, a book is something that is solid, that you can hold in your hands. Books have a calming effect on me. Having them around me is soothing, and yet somehow erotic. (Let's face it, I do have that sexy librarian look about me.) I have a very hard time letting books go, which is probably why I rang up a $66 library fine not that long ago.

Perhaps I should be a bookstore owner. I am very fond of the Main Street Bookshop, and I think people would like the type of bookshop I'd run. I just have a certain type of flair that I think people would enjoy.

Anywhoo, I just thought I should come clean. My name is Mimi and I am a bookaholic.

Future Projects...and other bits of string

I have no time to knit. It is really pathetic. However, I do have time to jot down projects that I wish I had time to do. (Money to pay for them is another post.)

From Knitty.com:

Tubey, Bobbilicious(for my mom) Tychus, Revolution ,Topsecret, Tempting I and II, Nautie, Hot Tomale, Belle Epoque (in Sweet Pea color), Hallowig (it's just too cool), Vicky (Red is the only acceptable color for this pattern), 1930 (In a skin tone, because I have way too many see-thru shirts that I never wear.), Hush-hush, Zaftig!, Baby Tart, Villa, Cleo (for my big boobs), Coif, and Grecian Plait.

I think that's it. A knitter's work is never done.

So, I have found that I would be allowed to bring my knitting on the plane to Belgium, which is great because I get figet-ey on planes. It not nerves, it's moreso that, "Are we there YET?" thing.

For now, it is too hot to wear a sweater, but knitting one is a different story. I have issues with impatience, though. I like instant gratifacation. I'm certainly not the only knitter who feels this. Ah, hat projects! Amen for hat projects.

I'm off to shower. One place that knitting is definately restricted.