The Objects Of My Distraction 

Over the past two months or so, I haven’t really written anything…I’ll be honest…I’ve been ‘neglecting’ my love of writing by not really writing much at all. I used to think that inspiration would just hit and I could write something that came to mind just like that, but that’s the problem…Inspiration doesn’t always strike at the right time, and right now is no exception. Yeah, I’m writing but that doesn’t necessarily mean I’m inspired by some force other than myself…No, I’m just determined and motivated to make a change for the better.

I’ll be honest, I miss writing on this little blog of mine. I really do. You’re probably asking why I haven’t been writing and I have the answer…I found myself too busy with work/life/everything in between and unusually unmotivated to write at all…It’s honestly pretty terrifying, going from writing almost all the time, to finding yourself hardly writing at all. I find it kind of upsetting that I put something I adore on the back-burner as such, but I suppose that things you love have to become accustomed to the backseat sometimes.

Now that we’ve established that I’ve neglecting my passion of writing and what not (only to resurrect it back from the flames of its undying glory), let me just say that I’ve kept it in the dark for a good reason…A little thing called Life decided to struck like lightning and insisted on staying longer than expected. Through all the so-called torrents of rain and chaos that come with Life, there are always silver linings and rays of perpetual sunshine. Yes, I know what you’re thinking…Did she really just type that? Truth is, yes I did. It just came to mind and formed into words on this entry you’re reading, but yes it’s the honest-to-something truth.

These past three months sure have been an adventure to say the least. It’s safe to say that I now know what getting seven staples in the back of my head feels like, both put in and taken out…I know that just by that statement right there, the question of ‘What the hell?’ comes to mind, correct? Well, let me make a long, very fuzzy story short…And believe me, it was fuzzy because I don’t really remember it happening. Without sugar-coating any of this story, I fainted at work (how? the world may never know…), thus hitting the back of my head on the cold concrete that makes up the foundation of our lovely stockroom. Needless to say, I was rushed to the emergency room, not far from where I work, and my work day (and week for that matter) was cut short. But the tale will not be complete without adding all the parts that were not so fuzzy, right? Thankfully, I do remember everything after I fell, just not really the actual falling part. Go figure.

The worse part of the whole ordeal was the neck brace and endless waiting at the hospital. Yes, its standard procedure when dealing with head/possible neck injuries that the patient is fitted with a neck brace, which are very uncomfortable I might add. You did hear right…The worst part was the awkward neck brace and all the waiting around, somewhat, if not totally unsure…Not the actual process of finding out that you indeed need staples and that someone is actually going to be stapling the gash in your head closed with said staples. The ambulance ride to the hospital from the store where I work seemed to be somewhat of a blur. I remember being asked multiple times what happened by the EMS gentlemen before and after I entered the ambulance and honestly, I was starting to get frustrated and kind of pissed off…Yes, I indeed know my name, date of birth and all of that. Yes, I know where I work, that I indeed did faint, and that I am bleeding from a gash in my head. All of this I’m fully aware of, just not the full extent of the situation. The very reason why I’m going to the hospital. I can’t say that I blame them though, asking me those questions was just the standard, everyday protocol and I wasn’t really objecting to any of it…Mainly because I couldn’t, thanks to the neck brace and I just wanted to not move at all.

After a series of x-rays and such, I was informed that my head/neck/spine and any other parts of my body that would’ve been affected by the fall were totally fine, and that I could go home once the gash in my head was taken care of. Thanks to the advances in modern medicine, (and the fact that my loving mother and boyfriend were there, making me laugh and being the best distractions…) the only thing I felt was a little bit of pressure from the staples as they were going in. Yes, my mom and boyfriend were both there, keeping me company and listening to me complain about how much the neck brace sucked something awful. 10, maybe 15 minutes give or take some minutes later, I was on my merry little way. In pain nonetheless, with seven staples in my head and careful instructions on how to care for them and that I should be back in about 7 to 10 days to have them removed, but all in all, peachy keen…Peachy keen with a bloodstain on the neck of my pink and black flannel, a promise of whatever I wanted to eat and absolutely no explanation for why I fainted. Yes, you heard right. No explanation. Apparently, my blood work showed no levels of anything out of the ordinary and as far as everyone could see, I was perfectly ‘healthy’. Sitting here now writing this, I still have absolutely no idea what exactly made me faint that Tuesday in November, but it is safe to say that I’m one step closer to getting my health in check and under control, via the reason why ‘healthy’ was written as such.

Let’s face it: I’m not a shining beacon of perfect health. No one is. We all have our fair share of things that are wrong with us and I’m no exception…Now, enough of my droning on and back to what I was saying before…I’m one step closer to getting my health under control because, honestly, if it’s not one thing, it is indeed another. First let me just make a long story very, very short and cut to the chase. I have had asthma for as long as I can remember and I spent the majority of last year being told that I have/don’t have something called Crohn’s Disease, only to find out in November that I indeed do have the illness…

Please, before you continue reading this, don’t feel sorry for me. Please. I honestly hate when people feel sorry for me just because I have health issues. Everyone has health issues. I’m actually beginning to wish that everyone in this world could just be 100% sickness/illness/disease-free, that’s how sick I am of everyone having something wrong with them. People I know that could be used as poster children for perfect health suddenly have some kind of random health issue that you honestly never thought they would have. It’s just scary. The whole world just needs to be healthy already…Yes, I know I’m going on and on and what I’m asking for will probably never happen in this lifetime, but what the hell? It honestly doesn’t hurt to hope every once in a while.

…As I was saying before I went on about my feelings toward health, I have Crohn’s Disease. It’s honestly kind of weird because this around this time last year, I was dealing with it…I just had no idea what it was called and I seriously had my doubts that I even had the said illness. Once again, making a long story short, I had surgery on my stomach last year (one of the main reasons there were practically no entries for the months of May and April) and after that, I thought that I was pretty much cured of any and all stomach issues that had been plaguing me for some time, but of course that wasn’t the case. One minute, I was being told I had Crohn’s Disease and the next, I was being told I didn’t. As it turns out, every doctor looks at things differently because, well, no two doctors are the same. Sure, they practice the same thing, but let’s face it: They all have their own way of looking at things and giving their honest, educated opinions. Why was this such a big deal? My surgeon was completely convinced that I didn’t have the disease because everything came back negative after the surgery, and I honestly agreed with him. I wasn’t really going to second-guess someone who just spent roughly 5 or 6 hours cutting and sewing my stomach back into its correct state of being. My gastroenterologist was still convinced that I had the disease…And sure enough, some odd months later and almost a year after my surgery, I find out that I, do indeed, have Crohn’s Disease…Apparently, I had the intestine-inflaming illness the entire time, the fact that I needed surgery just masked the fact that I had it. Go figure. If it isn’t one thing, it surely is another.

Steering away from all the negativity, it’s safe to say that trying to keep my health in check hasn’t yet stopped me from putting my other passion on the back-burner. Music. Yes, if you’ve had the chance to read one of my many random music posts, you’d know how much I love music and love to write about it. Call it nerdy or whatever you want, but once again, I don’t care. Music and writing are my passions and that is that. These past three months, I’ve found that I’ve definitely broadened my horizons on the music front. I’m always trying to listen to something new whenever I can and now is no exception. There are a lot of bands that I’ve fallen in love with and some that I’m re-discovering, but there are two that I’ve found myself listening to a whole lot lately: The Damned Things and Florence + The Machine. I would go on and on about both musicians and other musicians that I’ve just recently fallen in love with or have been involved with for some time now, but I feel like I need a bigger space to express such findings…Which I fully intend to sooner or later. 🙂

There are more than likely a lot of other things that have been going on in Noelle’s little world of chaos and excitement…I just can’t for the life of me think of anything else that could be of any real importance right now or appropriately fit in with everything I’ve said so far. Granted, I’ve written things of no significance before and probably pieced different topics together hundreds of times, but still. I’m trying to make a change for the better this year, no matter how cheesy it sounds. As I’ve said before, I love writing and I honestly don’t want to see it become charred on the back-burner again. It just wouldn’t be cool, not one bit. Fear not, possible followers of this blog, there will most definitely be more to read. Without a doubt, there will be more to substance on this little piece of sanity I call my blog.

These are the objects of my distraction…Plently more where those came from, and finding more and more everyday.

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Oh, That Shining Realization 

A couple of months ago, well sometime last year (if you want to be critically technical and correct) I wrote about how there was the unbreakable camaraderie that my friends and I shared some long time ago. I now realize that maybe it’s better that bond decided to break.

I honestly think that if I was still friends with the majority of the individuals I was some now 6 or 7 years ago, I would amount to nothing. Yeah, that sounds a bit harsh but, that’s just the way I see it. I think that if we’d all kept in touch, it would either be the greatest thing in the world or the greatest personal tragedy. As much as I used to love them all, I think it would have been a complete downfall.

You’re probably wondering why I’m talking about people I used to love so dear and care about almost with my life so bitterly, and I have the perfect answer. I’ve seen the kind of people they’ve become. I know they say everyone changes and indeed everyone does, but it seems to be so different now. Looking back at who we all used to, and who we are now, it’s safe to say that I’m relieved to know that we’ve lost our hold on each other. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.

I think I’ve finally come to the conclusion that I don’t need them. I don’t need certain people around me just to get through my every day, just to breathe. Sure, there are sometimes when it could hurt, the fact that they’re not here mainly, or where I miss them, but I then I wonder…Do they feel the same? If I had to take a good, educated guess, I would have to say no. I often wonder what it would be like, if we all remained friends, if nothing changed at all, but then I realize that I don’t think I would have it any other way.

It’s better that they’re not in my life anymore. It’s better that they’re just fleeting memories. It’s not like we would talk like we did back then, when things seemed endless, almost untouchable. Some 2 years ago, when we were in a sense ‘reunited’, there was this feeling of emptiness in the worse kind of way between us all. Granted, the circumstances weren’t exactly pleasing, but still. It was the greatest shock of my natural life so far that day, to be struck with the news that impaired me to feel and to be among the ones I once felt about so dear.

After all the useless calculating and grinding of memories and thoughts in my head, it all comes down to the one solid fact: I’m so glad I don’t associate with the people I used to. I think that if I did, then I wouldn’t be the type of person I am today. I think I would more than likely become the type of person I don’t really like, someone who I honestly couldn’t see myself being. For what might be better and at the same time possibly worse, I’m who I am and no so-called friend can change any of that. I’m just happy I realized that before I started to actually care too much.

Oh, that shining realization…Better late then never.

Never Forgotten?

I watched the speedometer’s needle go to 20. The speed limit was 15. I tried to distract myself…Blaring “Vendetta” by Slipknot on my iPod, trying to drown out any words being said. Looking out the open window at the planes flying so low that I felt like I could touch them. I even clutched the large Vanilla Latte that I’d purchased before continuing onto my final destination. I don’t know why I ordered a hot coffee on such a sticky, humid day, but I did…Anything to keep my mind off the task at hand.

I don’t know if I’d really been looking forward to yesterday or dreading it. I honestly don’t know. I think I just wanted to get it over and done with. The cemetery looked even bigger than it did a year ago. Granted, everything looks bigger and alot more clearer if you haven’t been there in awhile. My mom asked me where she wanted us to park, and I told her. She asked me if I was sure. I was sure. 100% sure. We got out of the car and I immediately walked over to where I’d remembered it was. Apparently, my memory wasn’t as good as I thought because he wasn’t there…I couldn’t find my friend.

I hadn’t been there since last year, but my one best friend had been there later last year, so I called her and asked her exactly where it was. I already knew where it was, but like I said, my memory isn’t that good. She told me and I started walking. After 5 minutes of walking, I became extremely aggravated. Mostly from the heat because it was so hot and humid and because I had a feeling I would never find it. I must have been walking, literally, like an hour around the same section of the cemetery, looking for my friend. Finally, my mom suggested that go inside the office there and ask one of the professionals that work there. I was relieved.

Right when I walked into the office, I felt my body temp go down about 10, maybe 20 degrees. Okay the 20 degrees is exaggerated, but I felt instantly cooler walking in. I asked the woman behind the desk if she could help me find a grave, which obviously she could since she worked there. I gave her the name and she explained it, providing me with a map of the cemetery and where his grave is. She was very helpful and nicer than I honestly would’ve expected. I wish I would’ve caught her name.

I held the map tightly in my hand as my mom rode back to where we started. We both looked at the map and followed the instructions gave by the helpful, nice professional in the office. Even though we were looking in the correct place, we couldn’t find him. I was starting to think that maybe someone was screwing with me. That maybe all of this was a dream. That he was still alive and breathing at his house or with friends. My mind instantly flashed to that ever strange, but familiar room, with flowers galore and playing in the background was the music he loved. Of course it was true. No one was screwing with me. It was real.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, we found it. I must’ve walked past it five or six times before actually stopping to notice. I found it next to a headstone with 117 written in the lower right-hand corner, complete with a #2. According to the map, my friend’s grave was 117, #1. I found it, but it wasn’t at all what I thought. It was just a grave marker. No headstone. Or nothing else for that matter. No flowers, no teddy bears, nothing. Just a grave marker.

I was completely shocked. Tears filled my eyes as I looked at the discolored grass that was growing in just beyond the marker.

How could someone be so negligent? Especially parents? Especially friends? Yes, in an economy that’s rough as hell, it’s hard to afford things, but something like that should be a priority. One year later, and there isn’t even something immortalized in marble to show how amazing your son was? Spare me! That’s pure disrespect for someone who’s fallen. It just disgusted me that there was no headstone. It disgusted me even more that the only flower that I saw visible was the yellow rose I’d put into the ground. His own friends didn’t bother to remember him. Show that they miss him. Show that he wasn’t forgotten. Some friends. I at least thought they’d show that they still cared, still had enough sense to remember him. Just goes to show you how much people change. How much his friends, my friends, our friends changed.

My memory was just as good as I thought it was, I remembered. Never forgotten, huh? Some things just never change.

Live your life everyday like it’s your last because you never know what tomorrow brings.

 

Happy?

Are you happy with the person you’ve turned into? Happy about the decisions you’ve made? Happy that you’re in with everyone else’s trend? Happy that you can say that you’ve been to that party, and gotten so drunk that you can’t remember what day it is? Yeah, I thought you would be.

I don’t know whether to be disappointed, ashamed, or disgusted by you. It’s that bad. I used to think that you would be an exception. You were so perfect, it made me choke. Now I choke on the person you’ve become. Does it make you happy that you can say you’ve been there? Are you happy to say that you’ve had so many boyfriends that you can’t remember where the last one ending and the new one begins? Happy that everyone talks about you behind your back? All the rumors that go around about what bitch you are. Hate to break it to ya, but they’re all true. Totally and completely true. I should know. We used to be the best of friends. That all changed. For the better.

Disappointed. Disgusted. Ashamed. I can say you make me feel all three. Disappointed, because I was stupid enough to be believe that you were better than this. Disgusted, because you’re so below everything you once were. Ashamed, because I actually cared and loved you enough to call you my best friend. Are you happy when you come to school, where you don’t even bother showing up anymore, to see your friends? Don’t think I don’t see your bloodshot eyes. I do. Everyone probably does. Are you happy that, when you are in school every now and then, you brag about the party you were at last night? How high you got? How drunk you were? I smile at how incredibly stupid you are. I don’t tell you what I think of you. You probably already know.

I’m even more DISAPPOINTED, DISGUSTED, and ASHAMED by you. I gave you a second chance, when I never should’ve called you my best friend in the first place, let alone my boyfriend. Are you happy that you probably go through girlfriends like a drug addict goes through his drug supply? Don’t try and deny it. Are you happy that you wasted an entire month with me? Lying. Are you happy that you were so high and drunk at a party that you spilled your heart to some random girl, only to be cheated on? Making your outlook on love dismal and distorted. The reason why you could never fully, truly love again. The reason why you can never love me. Or supposedly anyone else for that matter. Are you happy?

Is it safe to say that you’re happy? That you’re completely content with your life? The things you’ve done, with or without consequences…I don’t know about you, but I’m the happiest I’ll ever be at this point in time.

Is it safe to say that you’re happy? How many times do you need to ask yourselves before you settle with the truth?

Only true friends will be there till the end.