Choose Evelyn

NightmareLand

Believe it or not, I am actually watching Little Nemo: Adventures in Slumberland. Seriously, right now, as I type, I am watching this awesome bad ass movie from my blissful, dreamy childhood. I remember wanting to be the princess, Princess Camille. I actually just cheated and looked that up because I couldn’t think of the damn girl’s name, even though I am watching the shit right now. Great memory I have, but anyway the cool thing is when I just looked it up on IMDb, I discovered that Princess Camille’s voice is actually by some chick named Laura. Laura Mooney. I don’t know, I guess I get a kick out of crap like that. I really wanted to be that princess, possibly more than I wanted to be Jasmine from Aladdin, but certainly never more than I desperately wished, hoped, and dreamed to someday transform into Ariel, from The Little Mermaid, obviously.. or just a mermaid even. I still go back sometimes, back to the days where I thought I could really be a mermaid or a princess from some land of dreams, or well, in this movie, Slumberland.

Too bad those aren’t the kind of dreams that you can grow up and realize some day. When did life make the big transition? I think possibly the biggest transition you can make in life is when you discover you can’t ever be a mermaid or fairy princess, or Barbie or Jasmine, not even Sabrina the Teenage Witch. This is also the muckiest fucking transition you make in life. You lose the magic. Dreams are still magical for me today, but they stay just that, dreams, never coming close to crossing the line into reality. Now obviously I’m not speaking of those dreams that can become a reality, like career dreams, dreams of traveling and growing old with someone you love, etc. Shit, sometimes I wonder if those are foolish magical dreams as well. I’m not old by all means, I still have plenty of time to dream big and set my goals high, and try my best to reach them.

Shit - I don’t remember this movie being so freakin’ scary. I’ve had nightmares almost every night of my life… just another curse I was born with, or so I thought… maybe it’s because I watched freakin’ scary ass crazy shit like Little Nemo. The Nightmare King or whatever is really making me uncomfortable right now. I’m a big scaredy cat for my age, but really.. I can’t imagine how terrifying this part of the movie was for me as a child. No wonder I had bad dreams. I even watched movies like Poltergeist as a really young child, like ridiculously young to be watching movies like that. My Dad used to show me all those scary movies, but he always told me never ever to watch The Exorcist until I was like 40 or 50. Hah, that makes me laugh a little. He hyped that movie up SO SO much for me. Around the time I started watching movies like Poltergeist, and Alien, and whatever else my dad made me watch so he could get a kick out of freaking me the hell out, my father started mentioning the movie, The Exorcist. He wouldn’t talk about it much, but naturally I started asking about it. To this day I wonder if he was being real with me about this or not, I hope I remember to ask next time I see him, if ever. He’s on my shit list right now, not the regular “I’m ticked and don’t want to see your face for a month or so” shit list, but the “You just might be dead to me at this point” shit list. Yeah, it’s like that. But anyhow, I remember the one specific time he really told me about The Exorcist. He said something like this:

Laura. I don’t want you ever to watch The Exorcist, no matter what friend of yours tries to get you to watch it.. at least until your an adult. My friends and I went to see it when I was younger, and no other movie has ever effected me like this one, Laura, I’m serious, you listen to me. I was well of age to see the movie, I was technically an adult, and I was a strong young man, not very fearful of many things, especially movies. But Laura, this was before you had all these ‘special’ effects like they have now. It may have not been as realistic, but back in those days it was the most realistic horror movie I had seen yet. But Laura, listen to me. That movie is not just any old movie. That movie gets into your head, and will stay there for a while whether or not you like it or want to even let it do so. (My dad doesn’t talk like this by the way, I’m paraphrasing. He said all of this, just probably using different wording, a lot of slurring, and hiccups in between his drunken words.) But Laura, listen to me. I didn’t sleep right for weeks after that. I damn near shit myself in my sleep when I did sleep, waking up sweating and catching my breath. The nightmares were horrible and I couldn’t shake them. Please don’t watch this movie, even if your friends are going to watch it. Laura, seriously listen to me, if your friends put this movie on please call me, I’ll come pick you up and we will go to Block Buster’s and rent a different movie and watch it together. I wish I had never seen that movie, Laura, it changed me, it stayed with me forever.

Talk about a freak-out. He got his point through to me though, I never did see The Exorcist until I was about 12 or 13, at which point I remember my curiosity becoming too much for me to handle. I couldn’t watch it alone or with just anyone though, I was too nervous and scared to thanks to my lovely Father. I think I was about 11 the first time I asked him to watch it with me. He refused, and that was that. No ifs, and or buts about it. Now that I remember, if I’m correct, it took me 2-3 years to convince him to do it. He finally did, just because he was determined to make sure if I ever did watch the movie I would do it with him, and not on my own. He was only looking out for my own good, my sanity, but I laughed at him when the movie was over. I remember being disappointed actually. I thought it would be the scariest shit I had ever seen and I would have to turn it off halfway through, but after watching it I realized I was hardly even spooked by the crap. I guess some people are just really affected by shit in movies that seems like it could really happen, especially if they believe in it. I don’t know if I believed in possession or not at that age. Honestly, I’m not 100% sure whether or not I believe in it now. My Dad must though, to be so freaked out by that movie. 

OK, I don’t know how this turned into a Daddy and his Little Laura story, and I kind of wish it didn’t. I don’t want to think of the good memories right now. I feel like he forgot it all, so I guess I want to forget it all too. I only want to remember that he was a drunk asshole that yelled. I want to remember the eggshells we all walked on around him, not how much comfort I felt in his presence. Fuck.

I miss my Dad. I wish he didn’t fuck up so bad, I wish I didn’t have to question if he even remembers he has a Daughter sometimes. How can a man go from that to this? He used to really have me feeling confident in his love for me. I believed with all of my heart that he would kill for me, jump in front of a bullet.. cut the balls off any “monsters” that were out to get me, throw them through the pavement straight into hell. Now it seems he doesn’t even wonder how I’m doing once in a while. He doesn’t seem to miss me. He doesn’t seem to want me.

It doesn’t even seem like I have a Dad. It seems like I have a Mom that stuck by me throughout my whole life, and some Dad out there that left ME when he didn’t love my Mother anymore.

Men with children: if you don’t love your wife, divorce her. If you don’t love your wife, don’t divorce your children. If you don’t love your children, see a shrink, fast, and FAKE it, at least just so they don’t go on the rest of their lives wondering why their Daddy doesn’t want them. It should be COMMON SENSE. There shouldn’t be a second thought. OBVIOUSLY, be a daddy forever if you’re ever going to be one at all, and if you’re not going to be one forever, don’t be one ever. Get the hell out of your kid’s life before they have a chance to make a memory of you being in it. Seriously.

OK. What the fuck. Way too much personal demons flying around here… this post is over, I need a bed, a pillow, and a sheet. Yikes. Embarrasssssinggg~~~

Put Me in the Projects

I’ve been surprisingly able to stay focused on keeping up with my little new-found hobbies that don’t involve computers or cameras while fighting against my obsession with my new laptop. It hasn’t even been that hard. Right now I’m working on turning a Nike AF1 shoe box into a pretty box that I can keep to store scrap paper in (unwanted mail, undesirable things that come out of my printer, etc.) as well as some other little stupid projects that really aren’t all that stupid If i really apply myself to it and get into it. I’ve found some good relaxation and stress relief with this kind of thing. I’m not all about paper projects and storage containers, I’m keeping it a little more broad-spectrum for now. The only requirement is that I do something creative, while not looking at a screen and using more than my fingertips, involving “real” tangible media. I’m also doing some things on the new laptop, naturally. I’ve challenged myself to branch out with that as well, though. Of course I still spend hours on Photoshop. I haven’t even had PS in about a year, so I’m definitely over-indulging in it a little bit, as well as adjusting to the differences in CS5 as compared to CS2. Other than editing photos though, I’ve been playing around with print projects, writing even. I thought of a random idea of a break up letter in business-like format and tone, I thought it would be a bit humorous to find. A simple Google search left me with zero results, however, so I’ve decided to compose my own. I think this may all just mean that I have far too much time on my hands, but I dont know, I’m not hating it. At least my brain is getting some excersize.

But yes, I do know this means I’m a full on out of the closet big geeky nerdo. But it’s cool. Nerdy + Sexy = Killer Combo, I’m a real heartbreaker these days. ;)

internet:( miss you

so i don’t have access to the internet as of lately so i’ll have to press pause on the tumblr.. things are weird right now, but prob will have access soon. fml  <3

I smell Dirty Laundry and Daddy issues!

Ah, shit. I know I haven’t been updating this thing, and that’s just crazy considering it’s so new. The truth is that the shit that has been taking up my entire brain lately is some really suck-ass bull crap. I’m just not doing well in the mental/emotional department due to recent happenings. I don’t even know where to start explaining it. Basically there are a whole lot of jerks in my life, one BIG one in particular. My Dad is the biggest jerk I know, possibly. Ah, a girl with “Daddy issues.” How rare and unusual. But I think this man would make any kid he would ever “parent” have some serious issues as a result. First thing, he’s done not much else but drink beer after beer for the majority of my life with him. He is a textbook alcoholic if such a thing exists. This only enhances his jerkism, he’s a jerk with or without alcohol, I’m sure - but I’m not sure I know what he’s like at all without alcohol. But anyway, he was one of those Dad’s that worked a lot and drank a lot. When I was growing up he was a delivery truck driver for a *Liquor Company* (how convenient for him) and worked pretty long hours, but at this point he still came home at some point almost every night, hardly ever straight from work without stopping at the bar. I’m pretty confident that his drinking never was put off until after work, and I’m positive of it on at least a number of occasions. He even got fired once for failing a breathalyzer after he took his truck back to the warehouse one night. They took him back, naturally, because big baby Kenneth gets what big baby Kenneth wants. Speaking of that name, I sometimes hate myself for giving to my son as a middle name, I worry I may have cursed him or something. But anyhow, if and when he did come home after work, or after the bar closed that he went to after work, he always reeked of alcohol, and he was always less than on point with his motor skills, but he ALWAYS had driven himself. You can’t take keys away or something along those lines from this guy, you just can’t. He always drove whenever he went from any one place to any other place, buzzed, tipsy, or incapacitated. Another highlight of his parenting skills, it really didn’t matter who was in the car begging him to let someone else drive either, even if it were 4 year old me who shouldn’t have even understood at that age that she just wasn’t safe in the car with Daddy. He always won, though, and I always was stuck holding onto anything I could grab inside his truck or the van while he sped down the road a hundred miles an hour. By the way, nothing in this post is even coming close to exaggeration, it might even fall into the category of understatements. God, I know I’m going all over the place with this, but this is what is on my mind. It kills me to think about how much I freaking LOVED this man with all of my heart, and disgusts me with how much I can’t stop myself from still feeling that love… still, with all of my heart. He ABUSED me. I recognize that now. He didn’t abuse me in the sense that he beat my ass everyday, or touched me inappropriately or anything, but in the sense of extreme neglect in almost every way you can neglect a child. I was fed, I had clothes, I had shelter, and I had reasonable luxuries. I may have even been spoiled a little, if as much as I didn’t realize we were poor until I was close to 11 or 12 years old. That hole in my heart that has existed since I can remember, however, that hole was eroded into the lining slowly but surely from plain old-fashioned emotional, mental, and in ways physical neglect. That hole has been my weak point for my entire life. I try to stuff it and stuff it and stuff it with everything that I know from experience wont work, but for some reason I still feel like it’s worth a shot. The worst thing that can happen when I try to stuff that hole is that it doesn’t stay stuffed, and I’m just left feeling the same way as before.. and the best, well, obviously the best thing that can happen is that one day something will put a steel patch over that hole, and the pain will go away. Talk about unrealistic expectations. Well, that’s what it was in the past, now I can call it insanity. The definition of insanity: Repeating the same thing’s over and over, expecting different results. That pretty much sums a good portion of my life up. Always trying to fix unfix-able shit, always trying to treat a broken leg with flu medication. But the alcohol wasn’t the only problem, that’s only the beginning. He’s also just a real fucking jerk. My whole life I didn’t know I was adopted, up until I was 17 years old. When my Mother and God-Mother sat me down and told me about my adoption, a little light bulb went off in my head. “What if Dad never saw me as HIS little girl?” That fucking light bulb will NOT burn out. It’s only started to burn brighter. 5 years later, here I am, and that quick little thought has turn into a goddamn monster. I’ve picked apart every painful memory I have of my relationship with my father and put it under a fucking microscope over the past 5 years, each time coming to the realization that a lot of his behavior and whatnot may just be attributed to his lack of seeing me as his own. Can adoptive fathers love their daughters the same way and just as much as biological dads? The world can say “yes” until they are blue in the face, but fact is the world will never know. Fact is, I will NEVER EVER know. But damn it, I will sure as hell keep trying to find out.. well, maybe, maybe not. I’m considering giving up on him completely, I really am. It would take hours upon hours to explain how he’s a jerk beyond the drinking, and I really don’t feel like getting into it, or even attempting at a “short version.” I guess I’ll just give the most recent example. The most recent way he showed his true jerk-colors, causing me to be a hop, skip, and a jump away from “dumping” him. And just to make it clear, I’m not talking about not speaking to him for a year or so, I’m talking about going through the morning process of his death. Before anyone screams “homicidal maniac,” I am not going to murder my father, totally not my style, and I kind of don’t want to ruin my life over this jerk. I’m talking about he’s real close to being dead to me. Not exaggerating, I will go to the length of BRAINWASHING myself into believing he’s really dead. That’s how I feel right now. But anyway, a little background, he and my mother separated when I was 17. My mother and I were shopping one night and came home to find him on the floor trying to fix the coffee table (that wasn’t broken into 3 pieces when we left.) It wasn’t long before I realized it was going to be a bad night, but boy did I know nothing. I don’t think either my mother or I got a chance to say anything when he staggered to his feet, obviously wasted, and started going off like a fucking maniac. He was screaming at my Mom for god knows what, after it all I collected that what he was so angry about was that my Mom didn’t have dinner ready and waiting for him when he got home, and that the cat pissed on the carpet while he was having his little temper tantrum and throwing shit around. That was how the coffee table got broken, I take it that he threw it at the cat for pissing on the rug. Now I hate when cats piss on shit too, I feel like I could kill a cat sometimes for pissing somewhere unauthorized for cat urine.. but sometimes when my dad was having a fit of rage I damn near pissed myself, so I couldn’t really blame the cat, and I remember scrambling to find her and make sure he didn’t break her in half. I saw that the cat was ok and came back into the living room to find my Dad pointing and yelling in my Mom’s face, at which time she turned away and lit a cigarette. She wasn’t even yelling back. She was just looking at him, looking real sad. It broke my heart. Then my heart about fell out of my chest, when I saw my Dad do something I never imagined I’d see him do. He just rocked her, closed fist, rocked her in the face twice with all of his strength (he’s a really big guy, fat, but stocky, rock solid, and strong as shit.) It’s all a blur from there. I remember jumping on his back immediately and screaming to my mom’s defense and just punching and punching and punching him in the back of the head with all of my strength. I don’t even remember if any of my punches connected, but I sure as hell hope they did, and I’m pretty sure of it because my knuckles were really fucked up after that. He eventually got me away from him, and I remember him running outside, and throwing the black weber grill through the kitchen window. I think I really believed he was going to kill her, if not both of us. I believed this was it, he has snapped, and now some hidden maniac has come out. He was my real life monster under the bed in that moment. I was 3 years old all over again. I just didn’t want my Mom to die. I called 911, they came, they made him leave. (I know - fucking bullshit. My mom even admitted he punched her in the face and they DID NOT arrest him, which only added to my terror that he would come back and kill her, or even us.) He had left a lot of times in anger, and went and stayed in a hotel or something.. never more than 3-5 days. I didn’t want him to come back this time, though. There had been other times I didn’t want him to come back, but this time I felt like I could never accept it if he did come back. My mother would’ve let him, I know it. Thanks to some higher power, if there is one, he didn’t come back this time. My mom hurt so bad, so deep. It all destroyed her. It didn’t help one bit she had just lost her mother a few months before, and let me tell you my Gram was the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. You would’ve liked her. You really would’ve. But anyhow, the next day was the first day of separation, and they eventually got lawyers and divorced and all that shit. Fast forward to recent times, part of the divorce agreement was that he would pay the mortgage for 2 years, and after that we would either sell the house or work out some other arrangement for my Mother and I to stay here. Now it isn’t just us though, Donovan came in November 2007, my little hero. He’s like my own personal freakin’ messiah. I swear to God he is. So yeah, the 2 years was up as of a couple months ago, and they worked it out so that my Mom would pay my Dad $600 a month to stay here, and he would take that and put it toward the mortgage, and continue to pay the rest himself. Sounds all fine and dandy.. until my mother get’s a foreclosure notice in the mail. Last night she spilled the beans to me, that the house is going into foreclosure, and my Dad isn’t willing to do anything about it, in fact, he let it happen in the first place. This just means he could give two shits about any of us. Ok, you could care less about my Mom? Fine. Just be respectful to her, and don’t hurt her anymore. You could care less about me? Well fuck you. You’re supposed to be my Daddy. You’re supposed to want to do whatever it is you can for me to be safe, healthy, and happy. That doesn’t stop after 18 years. Being a parent is for a lifetime. Fucking jerk. You could care less what happens to my boy? You’re fucking dead to me. I officially hate you. If you died today, I would attend your funeral, I really would, but I wouldn’t have anything nice to read about you at the podium. I would cry, I would hurt real fucking bad, but my anger would still rule. You have betrayed the only child you have, and the only grandchild you have. We are supposed to be the most important people in your life, yet we come last. I’m not going to get used to it or accept it, and I think I’m done trying to make it better. I’m done seeking you. I can’t wait for you to find out how I really feel about you, I can’t wait for you to feel that pain. Yikes, that got a little deep… la de da de da… anyway. Yeah, I’ve never told my Dad once how I feel about him. A lot of people tell me I should, but only the people that don’t know him. The people that know him totally understand that telling him how I feel about him is a pretty bad idea, and probably would only hurt me. When the time is right, it will happen, probably in a letter, but until then he will go on thinking he’s the shit and whatnot, and I’ll just keep hating him undercover. The end. ‘Cuz I’m totally done with this crap.

daily drawings update

ill just keep this short and sweet. i’ve still been drawing, but due to laziness and then having no internet access on my mini-vacation at swallow falls state park, i just haven’t been posting the photos. i think ill post some of the ones i’ve already done sometime soon, but otherwise i’ve decided to only post my favorites, to avoid the nonessential pang of guilt i feel when i don’t post the drawings everyday.. as if i’m letting anyone down. but yeah, that’s the story. the end.