Conclusions, Circles and Continue

Saturday the 12th of January, 2008.

It is 6:09pm at the moment.

Yesterday My boyfriend and I repeated the binding ceremony that was done on January 11th 2007. It was a much grander ceremony having the weight of a year behind it, and being an anniversary of sorts. The small metal-heart-box was brought out of it’s pink-tin container within the swede-pink-MK-bracelet box in the bottom drawer of our jewelry box and rested before my largest quartz-crystal point before an orange candle with two wicks, two flames, to represent the two of us.

The entire room was lit with candles, including the bathroom so that there would be no artificial light at all. It smelled of vanilla, apple pie, and the soft scent created by other mild candles mixed together. It smelled of home, protection, and contentment.

I brought out all of my stones and places them artistically about the room, pleased with my arrangement, with my collection, with my knowledge and with my own power. I held my small violet swirled-stone ball. It’s not perfectly round, and you can feel it’s indentations and ripples, though it’s entirely smooth to the touch. I love it’s energy. It helped me focus myself.

I poured a generous, but not extravagant amount of extra virgin olive oil into a small tinted-glass bowl. I pulled out his promise ring (though not his engagement ring, I’m not sure where he’s been keeping that) and his engagement necklace, and his pouch of protective stones to lay beside the oil and the double-wicked candle, as well as the crystal and the metal-weave box shaped like a heart.

Because I don’t have a chalice or an alter, I took a slab of 2 by 2 wood painted solid black that was about a foot long (left over from making the shelves above my bed and television) and taped five candles (with black ducked tape I was given for Christmas from mom) to it. Since I only had green, red and white taper candles I looked up their exact meanings so I could get their placement right.

I taped the green candle in the center. Centering us in logic, prosperity and prudence. I used two white candles beside that, one I inscribed with truth with a small pocket knife I gave My boyfriend last year, and the other I inscribed understanding, and on the ends, I used two red candles. One was maroon and the other was bright red. The bright red one I inscribed with love and the maroon with lust. Perhaps not traditional, but that’s suiting since neither My boyfriend or I are traditional people. (Except in the sense that he want’s to be the working man of the house, and I want to be the house-hold wife who mothers, cleans and cooks.)

I dressed in a flowing, layered, partly transparent skirt cut unevenly into points with a short-skirted slip of black and pink over it. Not a combination I have ever used before. My boyfriend liked it as much as I did.

When he arrived at eleven twenty we meditated on the bed first. A pre-ceremonial protection meditation, concentrated on putting us together within a white bubble of protection, filled with light and completely surrounding us both. Within the white bubble is a white figure eight, one side of the eight enclosing him, and the other side enclosing me, passing understanding, love and truth between us.

We meditated on this facing each other.

My boyfriend without a doubt felt the effects of meditating on his imagery with me. As we moved to the couch (our other bed-couch that actually used to be used as our bed before we decided our couch made a better bed) we were affectionate and whispered to each other, since it was obvious we could not talk since it would be too loud in the quiet candle-lit room.

Touching, kissing, and resettling I set up for the cleansing part of the ceremony. The prerequisite to the binding spell. We dripped wax onto both sides of the double-wicked candle, one side with his finger-print and the other side with my finger-print.

(By the by, if you decide to go do your own binding spell make sure you do not do exactly what you have read here. Spells are to be invented by the person or persons involved and should be as unique as possible, involving actions, words, positions and tools pertaining to what you believe should be done to create the desired result. Spell copying, or ‘recipe spells’ will hold less meaning than self-written incantations, or self-invented candle or stone rituals. And do remember that when you bind someone to you, you also bind yourself to them. Never do this unless you are willing to give yourself entirely to the person you are binding.)

Then we mediated on our cleansing our Chakras: First the red chakra; Located at the base of the spine, this chakra forms our foundation. It represents the element earth, and is therefore related to our survival instincts, and to our sense of grounding and connection to our bodies and the physical plane. Ideally this chakra brings us health, prosperity, security, and dynamic presence. The first chakra is our physical identity. We filled with red, connected to each other in red strings, and then moved up.

The orange chakra, located in the abdomen, as well as lower back, and sexual organs, is related to the element water, and to emotions and sexuality. It is our emotional identity. It connects us to others through feeling, desire, sensation, and movement. This chakra, when strong and healthy, brings us fluidity and grace, depth of feeling, sexual fulfillment, and the ability to accept change. The second chakra is oriented in self-gratification. And so we filled and connected in orange, only leaving the red ball exempt from filling with orange.

Then up to the third chakra. The power chakra, and it is yellow. Located in the solar plexus; it rules our personal power, will, and autonomy, as well as our metabolism. When healthy, this chakra brings us energy, effectiveness, and spontaneity. This chakra is our ego identity and is oriented in self-definition. As so we filled and connected with yellow, only leaving the orange and red balls of energy exempt from filling with yellow.

Then my favorite chakra, the fourth, with the element of air. This chakra is the one I feel when I’m lonely, or upset, or happy. Located in the heart, it is the middle of seven chakras. It is related to love and is the integrator of opposites in the psyche: mind and body, male and female, persona and shadow, ego and unity. A healthy fourth chakra allows us to love deeply, feel compassion, have a deep sense of peace and centeredness. And oh how I feel that peace and centeredness when I’m with My boyfriend. It vibrates when I’m around other psychics and that feeling is so unique compared to touch, smell, taste, sight and sound. It is wonderful when I’m feeling love, and it’s the worst pain I can imagine when feeling separated from love. I had never felt it so strongly as I did when Jeremy left me. It hurt like fire for over a month, day in and day out. When emotions hit us so spiritually and so physically, how can anyone not believe in another plane filled with emotions and energy alone? Incidently this is also the chakra of self-acceptance, and social identity. And so we filled with green, leaving only the yellow, orange and red chakra-balls beneath it.

The fifth chakra is located in the throat and is thus related to communication and creativity. Here we experience the world symbolically through vibration, such as the vibration of sound representing language. This is the chakra of our creative identity, oriented to self-expression. It is the blue chakra. And so we filled with blue, leaving only the previous colored balls in place, and washing ourselves everywhere else in blue.

The second-last chakra, or should I say, second-highest chakra is that of light, oriented to self-reflection. It is our archetypal identity. This chakra is known as the brow chakra or third eye center. It is related to the act of seeing, both physically and intuitively. The purple chakra opens our psychic faculties and our understanding of archetypal levels. When healthy it allows us to see clearly, and to see from a higher plane and level. And so we filled with purple.

And lastly, the highest chakra, the seventh which is oriented to self-knowlegde and holds the element thought. This is the crown chakra that relates to consciousness as pure awareness. It is our connection to the greater world beyond, to a timeless, spaceless place of all-knowing. When developed, this chakra brings us knowledge, wisdom, understanding, spiritual connection, and bliss. This chakra is violent and is our universal identity. And so we filled with violet coming in through the top of our heads, until we were filled and connected with violet energy. Then we filled again with white, only leaving the chakra balls in place, completing the chakra cleansing.

I’d like to point out that for each of these chakras we have a different identity. Physical, emotional, ego, social, creative, archetypal, and universal. To me, this means that each of those energies contains a unique code, like a strand of DNA that directly relates to us in that form. Currently we are all human, based in red and in physical but we also are connected to our emotions, our ego, our social side, our creativity, and many of us are also connected to our archetypal and universal selves. But notice that some people don’t get much past physical. Perhaps alcoholics who deny their emotions and have sex with girls while lying to them about love when they’ve never even felt love would fit the bill.

I believe that when we leave this body that our physical selves, (which will obliviously rot) will have a red strand of information, that contains the DNA information that we lived in as a body as well as our memories of this life-time, and lessons. That piece of information will be a bit of energy that comprises our entire being, and it will be everywhere, just like our DNA in our bodies is everywhere. I believe that those who can remember their past lives are people who either were born into this life as a more advanced soul who couldn’t help but remember in their sleep or even while awake because there is so many useful things to remember that their firmly-connected spirit wants to convey, or they are people who have developed their chakras and their powers during this life-time. I will make my children write their dreams first thing in the morning everyday as one way to help them tap into the messages we receive for our greater selves. (Even if you don’t believe in dreams being real in the other realm, then look at it this way: Dreams take place in your subconscious, allowing you to process your real knowledge, emotions and memories without being clouded by present events or external interactions. Therefore there is an infinite amount of self-knowledge to be gained by remembering and writing them.)

Following this train of thought, our crown chakra would be the "DNA" of our entire soul, containing the information of all of our past lives in and out of the physical plane. But because we are rooted in our red energy, tapping into that energy requires aligning all of the chakras between red and violet. This would be the purpose for meditating. To learn what we already know. Funny, ain’t it?

After the chakra cleansing I lit the five candled alter I made just for last night. Returning to the couch I put an "R" on My boyfriend’s forehead in oil, and he put a "C" on mine. Then we proceeded to write out our future wishes for our relationship in oil on each others bare chests. He only wrote one, I wrote many. Neither of us told each other our wishes. I think it’s beautiful to tell each other in subconscious, in energy, in body and in oil but not in words. It made it so personal.

It made it us.

We held the violet ball in our right hands together between us, and clasped our left hands above that. I told him to remember our worst memories, the ones where he felt guilty, or angry, upset or betrayed. I remember that first time I saw him drunk, when I became so enraged that I banged his head into the floor. I feel guilty about that night, and indignant as well. But now that is so long ago, and it was time to let it go. Then I said to shatter the image, and to forgive ourselves and each other for these memories.

Then, the more pleasant memories were to be recalled. Last year’s binding ceremony where him and I severed bits of hair and melded them together by melting wax over them inside the metal-heart container (with a metal flower adorning the top and a woven-ish pattern covering the entire box). The day that we realized we finally felt like our relationship was back a month after my return from my three-week trip. The trip to Toronto and the convention and when My boyfriend knocked the paper oriental light down and us trying to put it back up properly. The Adam’s Mark hotel during my Uncle’s Super Grands tournament, and having sex in the bathroom, swimming in the pool and watching the fighters in side-rink seats. Those memories to be tucked carefully away, never forgotten.

Then I circled the heart-box the around the candle. This metal box being the only object to connect us to last year’s ceremony, and representing this past year. When back at it’s original point before the crystal I placed a paper heart-cutout picture of the two of us looking at each other over the hairs and wax melted inside. I dripped red wax from my lighting candle, the same used to make the finger prints on the large double-wick candle, and covered the picture with wax. Then I snipped new hair clipping, winding his curl around my straight hair before dropping it into the small container and melting it on top of the picture.

The picture is still visible, but through a red-tint and a little fuzzy in places. I like to think of the fuzzy spots as the bad memories we’ll forget, and what we can see being tinted in red because we’re remembering passion, and love and happiness.

Then, for the final testament of our commitment. A Love Contract we had joked about making two nights before yesterday came into being the night before yesterday. He agreed to it’s terms prior to last night’s ceremony. Casually, he sliced open his finger to sign it in blood and also placed his finger print in blood on it as well. I picked a convenient scab to sign my own name, and added a lip-print in lipstick as well as my official signature in charcoal.

That contract is as follows:

---

Christmas & Aftermath

Tuesday the 25th of December, 2007.

* Merry Christmas*

It is 8:23pm at the moment.

My head rather hurts, and so do my eyes. I’d still be smiling like I have been all day if My boyfriend wasn’t in his mother’s car right now, on his way to her home to be made to feel like shit. At least, that’s what I’m assuming is going to happen.

My boyfriend arranged to go Christmas Shopping with his mother on Sunday, December 2nd. When he told me about making plans to do this he talked about it with an sprinkle of excitement. He really seemed to want to go shopping with her. Yet when he returned he seemed very upset. I asked him why and he took a long time about answering, but finally he quoted her on a remark about him spending too much money, which I found out later was because of him buying me a play station 2 for our anniversary.

It seems to me that while My boyfriend’s mom thinks I’m acceptable, I don’t think she quite approves of me. I’m not sure why. She can’t disapprove of me any more than she can her own son. Something you have to keep in mind about Coriver’s mother is that she is a woman, she’s educated, and she has good logic, but she’s still black. Now perhaps this doesn’t matter in Africa, or France or Japan, but here in America, and especially in Buffalo, it matters.

I can’t speak for everywhere, but here in my experience, and in the experience of everyone I know, black women are more aggressive than anyone. They have the tendency to not listen if they don’t like what they hear. They tend to be loud, though My boyfriend’s mother is not like most in that one. Black women tend to think that they can say whatever they want about anything, and be damned if you argue with them, the younger ones will fight with you, the older ones with send their children or boyfriend’s after you.

I don’t mess with black women. I don’t criticize them, I don’t talk back to them, I don’t tell them (usually) when they’re wrong. I try very hard not to stare at them, and use only quick glances to gather enough information about them to remember them, or to come up with a complement. This is not just superstition or stereotype, this is my experience. Especially growing up. The young black girls are vicious.

I recall one time recently when a six or seven year old black girl was standing in the middle of a main isle in Joan An Fabrics, and I really had to steer my cart right to where she was. Most people just move out of the way, but she looked at me pointedly and stood there. I continued to fix my eyes on what I was after, and as I came very close to her she finally moved and then as she turned on her heal she made loud remarks about how a "white girl" almost ran right into her, about how I needed to look where I was going, etc. And she was still so young!

Anyway, the point is, My boyfriend’s mother is for the most part a reasonable woman, certainly a good woman, but she still falls in to the category of black women living in the region. After the shopping trip, only about a week ago My boyfriend’s mother showed up at My boyfriend’s work-place and began criticizing the entire career of tattooing. She not only criticized My boyfriend for being a tattoo artist, but the industry of tattoos. As My boyfriend put it, she made it sound like I was too good for it, as if being a tattoo-artist was the same as being a whore – or the same as being a drug a dealer. Certainly using his talent for what he wants to do in such a way that he brings home a pay check is a fine thing to do! But not to her.

My boyfriend came home that night very upset as well. Before either of those incidents she wrote him a few e-mails which made him upset as well. One accused him one way or another of not caring about her, and not taking the time to see her. Well, let’s see, back to him working fifty to sixty hours weekly and only having one day off. If he saw everyone who wanted to see him on a Sunday, then he’d have no time to himself as well as not spending much time with any one person at all.

I’m the one (as I’ve said over and over) who’ll be around for him in thirty years. I’m the one who is probably pregnant with his baby right now. (My period is seven days late.) I’m the person who does his laundry, his dishes, and who makes love to him, and who rubs his back and his head and his feet. And I like my role, and I like being the girl-friend, the fiancé, soon-to-be wife. This is what I want, and this is what he wants. I wish his mother, El, and other assorted people would just butt-out of the entire thing. His days off are mine, and soon enough his days off will be mine and our baby’s.

I’m not trying to block out his mother, I’m really not. I’ve done nothing to try and prevent him from seeing his mother. In fact, I’ve encouraged it. I’ve excused it. It’s his freaking mother, of course she has a right to see him and to be with him, and of course he wants to see her now and then too. But I really wish she would stop lecturing him about everything and sending him home with his tail between his legs.

He’s probably there right now. Aparently she made it semi-clear to him that she didn’t want me along. She didn’t say specifically, but the last time she didn’t say specifically and he thought she didn’t want me to come and came to pick him up, she told me as I was getting into the car that she didn’t want me along. (This was shortly after his grandfather’s death.)

I figure her coming to pick him up is part of the message, since that means she’s taking control of the situation. Yes, I’d be bored if I went probably, but I really wanted to spend the entire day with My boyfriend, but such is life, eh? We did spend all of Thanksgiving together by going over to his mom’s house after eating at Robert’s and Patty’s house.

*sigh* Christmas has been pretty darn good. I couldn’t have asked it to be better really. Considering that we didn’t go to Aunt Martha’s, it was amazing. Aunt Mary, My boyfriend, Dad, Mom and I each had a stocking, and this year we changed tradition and went youngest to oldest in opening stockings.

I really planned on typing out everything I received, but I already wrote it by hand, so I won’t forget, and I’m really quite tired. I think I shall nap, and perhaps sleep all the way up until My boyfriend returns, which would be nice, all except for the fact that I would then be awake later than he. Ah, again, such is life; such is life.

---

Wednesday the 26th of December, 2007.

It is 6:54pm at the moment.

"And what happens when you’re mother is dead and My boyfriend leaves you?" My father asked me. I stormed out of the room in tears, saying, "I will not be talked at like I’m a ten year old! I don’t need to hear this right now. I will not hear this right now."

I rushed upstairs and then collapsed on the couch in tears. I cried for a few minutes, and then, not able to take the pressure of being inside my room, inside the house, I pulled on the socks mom gave me for Christmas, pulled on the hoddie My boyfriend gave me yesterday, my coat, then realized I needed to use the bathroom. As I was in the bathroom my mother came up the stairs.

I frowned, that would make it hard to leave. I said to her, "I don’t want to talk right now, I want to walk." She held up her tarot cards and said to me, "I need you to read my cards. I need to know if I should be getting a divorce right now."

My face contorted back into tears, and I sat upon my bed. A divorce? Because I want to have a baby? How unjust! How backward! How insane!

Mary came up my stairs next, and then I knew I was trapped. I cried as she hugged me.

"I’ve just lost all respect for him," Mary says. "Often I take his side, but as I told him, this time, I’m with Ruth." (Ruth is my Mom.)

"Formal Operations," my mom said, pointedly looking at me. It sounded familiar, but I didn’t remember what it meant. "Full maturity is when our brain reaches formal operations and they realize that indeed the rest of the world is as real, and as important as themselves. Most people never reach that point, and your father hasn’t."

I thought about that. Dad had said just mere minutes ago, "Your mother says she wants to live to see her grandchild. That has nothing to do with you having a baby!"

I said, "You can’t separate her from me like that. You can’t separate people like that. All of our wants and goals are interlocked, all of us under this roof."

He completely ignored my statement. But when my mom said that I realized that if he thought that my mother’s wishes were not relevant, then why would his wishes be relevant?

"I want to see the baby too," Mary said after I stormed out the room. That was the last thing she said before she came upstairs to talk with Mom and I.

I still wanted to walk more than I wanted to talk. I wanted to breathe fresh air. I think I still might. I might just walk to pick My boyfriend up from work.

Dad said that I was giving up responsibility and rights to my body by telling My boyfriend, "Condom or Crib." But that’s not true at all, is it? I was basically asking him, "Do you want to have a baby with me now? I don’t mind, I want one, but do you?" I certainly wouldn’t give that option if I wasn’t ready to have a baby.

Dad told me that I had no relevant plans. My child raising plans are irrelevant to him. What about health insurance? What about the money? What about my responsibility?

In other words, he doesn’t want to have anything to do with paying for my child. Or in yet, other words, he’d rather me not have one then him have to pay for it.

Mom told me that my father said, "I will not raise another child!"

At this point I rushed down the stairs crying, seeking my Dad. I wanted to hug him, I wanted to cry in his arms. I wanted him to stroke my head and tell me that he loved me, and that he would love my baby too. I was so upset. He doesn’t want my baby, he doesn’t want anything to do with him or her! I called out "Dad?" in a voice that cracked.

"Yeah?" I heard a reply from the bathroom. I waited a moment, wondering if he would come out. I wanted to hug him. I wanted to tell him I loved him. He didn’t say anything more, and he didn’t come out.

"I don’t want you and mom to break up," I blurted, bursting into tears again. "I want you to be there for my baby. I want you to be there for me. I don’t want you to leave. I love My boyfriend, and I want to marry him, and I want to have his baby, and I want you to be there."

I hit the wall behind me and slid to the floor and continued to cry. He said something that sounded like, "You need to think about that." It didn’t seem like much of a reply. Almost like saying nothing. Maybe he said, "I understand that," since he says that a lot, especially when he doesn’t understand. I slowly got up as my tears slowed again, and walked away. No hugs, no I love yous, no make-up.

I returned up stairs quietly, my face so contorted I could barely see where I was going. I crawled past Mary onto my bed. They were talking about what would happen if Dad left. I don’t want to think about Dad leaving any more than I want to think about Mom dying or My boyfriend leaving! I don’t want to think about anything at all! I screamed inside my head. One of those moments you just want to roll-over and die.

But then suddenly, I felt that motherly duty overcome me. No. I can’t die, I might be pregnant, and having thoughts like that will transfer to the baby. Thoughts like that could cause a miscarriage. Thoughts like that are for the self-centered people who don’t realize how much hurt their death would cause everyone around them. Suicide is not for moms or daughters, and therefor, it is for noone.

Usually I’m insane about planning and preparing. For some odd reason, having a baby is the most planless thing I want to ever do. Somehow I just know that no matter what I plan, things will be as they will. Oh I think about what I want to do with them all the time, but oddly, I want to wing-it. Some things are better not being over-planned. The baby will have their own karma, and it’s better that I flow with that karma, not against it.

Make the best choice I can at the moment, is my plan. Right now, I feel like my best choice is to wait and see. There is no action I can take. Nothing to do but to calm down and think some more. My best choice is to meditate and pray. My best choice is to make sure that everyone under this roof knows how much I love them, and how much I want each of them to be a part of my baby’s life.

I’m afraid of My boyfriend’s reaction to hearing about today’s events. He’ll be devastated by my father not approving. He’s said over and over again that he doesn’t feel that my father approves. The thing is that I asked my father four months ago how he felt about My boyfriend.

He said, "He’s quiet, and he works a lot." That’s all he could say about him. Two facts, no opinion. So I pressed on, and asked about marrying My boyfriend. He gave me more facts, no opinions. I asked about having a baby with My boyfriend, and it was the same. He only said that he didn’t think I should want to raise kids in this house, because this house is a "white elephant" as he called it. Something that looks cool, and seems neat, but something that you don’t really want to have once you have it.

I disagree entirely. I want this house. I love this house. I’ve spent my entire life here, and when the fire happened, I was desolated by it. And when I discovered that we would not be moving, that we would be repairing, I was happy that we’d be moving back in, and that the house would be improved with new floors. Unfortunately, the house hasn’t become nicer, it’s become messier.

It doesn’t change the fact that I want to keep the house, and My boyfriend seems to want to, too. But even more unfortunate is the part where my father is right about all of this. The financial part. We don’t have money for anything.

"If they apply for medicaid or welfare, I’ll kick them out," My father said to my mother. Since he works downtown the people he works with would know if we were to apply. He feels this might affect his getting a promotion. Also, they investigate the house, and he doesn’t want anybody to see the condition of it, and I agree with that part. I don’t want the house investigated either.

Mary says there are other insurances that we can put the baby on, and I’m sure there are. Now, in the DDP, there is no such thing as insurance. Then again, nor are there cars, bills, or uneducated people. Too bad no one will ever put me in charge of the world and let me unite us under the Direct Democracy of the Phoenix. *sigh* (Nor is there High Fructose Corn Syrup in the DDP.)

I hate that I have to have insurance for doctors that don’t do shit. I hate that health education is pitiful and that health bills are ridiculous. I hate that the whole system is hollow, that the rich support the rich, and the poor just become more poor. I hate that getting ahead is an illusion. I hate that hobbies are suppressed and unappreciated while getting an average-joe job is considered mandatory. I hate that my baby will be born into a world like this, and that I can’t change the world before I have one.

Most of all, I hate that my father has slipped into this world. He’s thinking with his money and not with his heart. Where is the chess-playing writer? Where is my loving hero of a father? Where is my father? Where is the Dad that loves roller-coasters and adventures? Has he really become a club-attending, drinking, smoking, TV-watching, money-thinking, empty-hearted person? Is that really my father? I love him! I’ve trusted him!

But to think, he thought because he smelled cigarets on me that I smoked. He thought that because I had Jeremy over sometime when I was several months into my relationship with Tre that I was sleeping with him. He thought I slept with Will when I had him over many months ago. He thinks I’m an empty-brained slut. He thinks that I have not thought about having a baby. He probably thinks I’m just as easily on drugs as I’m not. He’s even accused me of being a thief! God I don’t know what he thinks, but he doesn’t even know me and it’s so painful to know that he doesn’t.

He doesn’t know My boyfriend either. My boyfriend has said to me that he wouldn’t leave me if I cheated on him. He wouldn’t leave me for the world. He wants to have children with me too, even though he’s afraid, and who wouldn’t be? He’s considerate of me. He’s attracted to me. He loves me. He accepted my engagement ring and necklace. He’s mine and I want to be with him.

The father of my children isn’t going to be a TV-watching, club-attending, drinking, smoking, empty-hearted person. The father of my children is going to be intimate, compassionate, loving, caring, logical, practical, understanding and fair. How dare he criticize my fore-thought and my intentions!

I’m in love. And I want a baby. It’s coming out of my goddamned body, and My boyfriend loves this body, and this baby, and he’s going to do everything he can for us and the baby. It’s so not fair for Dad to rain on my parade. After all, he’s the one who is supposed to take my arm at the wedding.

Shit, tears are as free-flowing as a stream. I can’t stop them, just like I can’t stop nature.
You probably want to read the previous entry before reading this one, so you know what is going on. Just a thought...

2007-12-26 23:53:39 Ashley

Maybe you should move out of your parents house before you make such grown up plans. I know that money doesn't make the world go 'round and that all you need is love, but you need to get a job. You need to grow up and take responsibility for your life. Having a baby is huge, and if you're not grown up enough to move out of your parents house and start your own household, your own home, then what makes you think you could possibly have a baby?

2007-12-27 00:54:02 Hallie

I'm sorry your father is being so cold. I have to say, though, that I see some of his points. I also think that you may be underestimating his own fear – after all, you're young, and you can't afford much, and the whole prospect of your having a child is very scary. Whether you like it or not, you are making a major life choice for your parents, too. You're making them grandparents and brining the grandchild into their home. You're still dependent on their income – your baby will be too. I'm not saying you're wrong, or that your mother is wrong, or, necessarily, that your father is wrong. I'm saying that you should give him time and space and maybe (only maybe) if there really is a baby, your father will come around. He might have time to deal with his fear, he might resign himself to acceptance once it's too late to change anything, and he might just warm up because babies are sweet. You never know.

If it turns out you're not pregnant, of course, you might also go out and get a job, as Ashley suggested. I think you're right not to over-plan parenting itself because I think that until you actually know your child as an individual it's hard to predict how things will go. However, the fact of having children really does need to be planned for. You might have trouble finding work if you're already pregnant, but if you're not, you might be able to get a job with some kind of benefits. Maybe an employee discount on things you'll need. Maybe enough money for rent.

---

Thursday the 27th of December, 2007.

It is 1:18am at the moment.

Ashley,

Starting my own household is entirely different than raising a child. Households mean a gas bill, an electric bill, a water bill, a cable bill, an internet bill, fixing our own plumbing, our own lights when the wiring goes bad. It means paying for every expense off of one income. As is, we pay my parents $200 a month rent to cover our food. And My boyfriend pays for his lunches at work in addition to that. And we still make enough extra that we went crazy with gifts for Christmas and our Anniversary. We have enough room in the attic to make a room for the baby, and with some more work, a new office, and turn our old computer space into a kitchen, making this a fully-functional apartment in my parent’s home.

If we raise a child here they will have five people to love them and take care of them. If we move out, it’ll be just two, with no money left-over for anything fun at all. If I require a job to move out, then I can’t have a baby because who would take care of the baby? I refuse to send them to public school because of how public school messed me up as a child. And I refuse to be away from my child because I know how much I learned and how much better I felt when my Mom was around when I was growing up.

My boyfriend is still building his tattoo portfolio and his art is getting better every single day. He’s also working on tattoo flash sheets. Many flash-sheet companies will pay as much as three-hundred dollars for a single flash sheet, which would mean that in addition to his tattoo income he could make another three hundred dollars a week. (I would computer edit and rearrange his art to make the sheets.) We haven’t sent any in yet, but his co-workers, friends, and I agree that his art is as good and in most cases better than the standard flash. The real question is what type of flash is in demand.

In other words, while he’s only making enough right now to feed the two of us and pay our cell phone bill, and perhaps be able to pay for diapers, baby powder, and baby food, over time, we just may be able to pay for all of our own bills. My real question is, why bother? Why move out?

Us being in the attic hardly effects the rest of the household at all. I do our laundry and dishes, and I help my mom out a lot. Mary even said she’d move out before she’d let us move out. Mary and Mom want us to stay here and have the baby.

Babies are not like houses. Babies need love more than they need money. In studies, they’ve shown that a baby who has food, and warmth, will still die without being touched. And this baby will have heaps and heaps of love. My father’s income is important, yes, but his income pertains mostly to the house mortgage, the utilities of the house, which will need to be paid if we’re here or not, and the food of himself and my mother. I doubt I cost them more than $300 dollars a month. And Mary pays more than that in rent a month herself. She has her own income which is considerable.

Not to mention, I seriously doubt My boyfriend’s parent’s would let our baby starve either. I don’t think having a home of our own is really related to taking responsibility for our baby.

---

Hallie,

This would make my father a first-time grandparent. My mother, however, already has two grandchildren from my half-brother, Roy. (Aerielle who is currently 12 or 13, and Mike who is currently 16 or 17.) I do believe that my father is scared. He probably thinks that he is going to have to do something when the child is born – like look after them or pay for them, but I really don’t think that his responsibility in terms of the child will include much at all. Perhaps another $100 a month. I don’t plan on lavishing my kid with baby toys and clothes. I don’t even intend on buying a crib.

I plan on using a box with blankets, and other than that, I plan on holding her (or him) at my computer, carrying her (or him) everywhere with me. Constantly talking to them, holding them. The only added recurring expenses for the first year will be for diapers, wipes and baby powder. I only plan on buying a few clothing items from salvation army. I’ll probably get enough at a baby shower that I won’t even need to do that. And I plan on nursing them for the first year and a half (if I can possibly bare it, and I’ll be very determined to bare it). The second year I’ll need a small amount more for a baby carrier and for raw vegetables which I’ll grind in the blender and mix with milk for added substance.

As I’ve said, it’s not like I haven’t thought about it at all. Just because I haven’t thought about health insurance doesn’t mean I haven’t thought. And that’s part of why I’m so hurt about the things he said. Before the argument, earlier in the day, I said to my mother, "I’d much rather have my father catch the baby when it comes out than some stranger-doctor." And I meant it. I’m so upset that he might not want to do something like that for me. That he doesn’t want to be there for me. It’s heart breaking.

In terms of getting a job, My boyfriend doesn’t want me to work, and neither does my Mom. Three out of five people in a household working is plenty. Without me being home, who’d keep my mother company? And who would help her out? I’d come home tired and wouldn’t want to do all the cleaning, cooking and such afterwards. I’d end up having to ask more of My boyfriend around the house if I was working. I don’t want to do that. I want to be a house-wife, it’s all I’ve ever wanted. If I was planning on being a career woman then I would still be dead-set on getting into college full-time. But since I’m not, I’ve shrugged college off. (Why have life-time bills if I’m not going to start the career after-wards to pay them off?)

Mom and I keep each other company while everyone else is being kept company by their work and their co-workers. When we clean together, more gets done, and we both feel better. Not only do I not want to work, but it would put added strain on my mother and My boyfriend both if I did. Honestly, I don’t feel that we really need more money, just that it would be nice.

It’s true that my Dad’s income alone is not enough to support all five of us in this home, but his, plus Mary’s, plus My boyfriend’s is enough to keep us all afloat and a little one. Dad is really the only one who is objecting, and you’re right, it’s because he’s scared.
I love him, so I hope he comes around.

---

Thursday the 27th of December, 2007.

It is 12:43am at the moment.

Nephelium are the creators that I believe created us. For more on that theory, read The Twelfth Planet, by Zecharia Sitchin and his other books. Also look up The Dark Star theory, all of mythology, Sumerian history and texts, alternate translations of the Bible and alternate evolution theories including the holes in the current evolution of man theory.

Nephelium created us by mixing their DNA with the DNA of apes to create the perfect slave race. They had many other previously failed attempts, like mixes with the feline creating the sphinx, mixes with the fish creating the mermaid, then there were the minotaurs, the centaurs, etc. These were real experiments, but it wasn’t until they made Adapa, the proto-type man, that they found what they had been looking for.

We were a creature created in their image. We looked like them, but we were smaller, less intelligent, supposedly not smart enough to overcome them. But we were beautiful as well, and they inbred with us. (Think of Zeus and Hercules.) And over time, an illusion of very fast evolution happened. Somehow we got from chipping stones to space-ships in fifty-thousand years when it took us two million to go from chipping stones one way to chipping it in a more advanced way. (This is covered in more detail in The Twelfth Planet.)

Anyway, my reason for bringing this up is that I had a thought. We have the technology to know what the nephelium looked like. (Also known as the Anunnaki. Nephelium is the biblical term for them.) If we presume that the original humans, like Adapa (called Adam in the bible) were exactly half Anunnaki, and half ape then we have this formula:

Original Human = .5 Ape + .5 Nephelium

And if we assume that they inbred with us until we were exactly half "us" and half "them" then we would have this formula:

Current Human = .25 Ape + .75 Nephelium

Okay, now let’s call our current human "C" and our original human "O" and apes we shall call "A" and Nephelium we will call "n." (N is made lowercase to show that it is the unknown.)

C = Current Human

O = Original Human

A = Ape

n = Nephelium

Following that train of thought, let’s treat those first two formulas like any equation and get the unknown by it self.

O = .5A + .5n

.5n = O - .5A

And the next equation:

C = .25A + .75n

.75n = C - .25A
Now, let’s get variable "Nephelium DNA" to be the same in both equations. To avoid using more complicated decimals, I’m going to turn them both into 1.5n, instead of 1n because to turn .75n into 1n would require multiplying by 1.334 and I’d rather not get into that.

3(.5n) = 3(O - .5A)

2(.75n) = 2(C - .25A)

1.5n = 3(O - .5A)

1.5n = 2(C - .25A)

Now we can set the opposite sides equal to each other (though I’m not sure what good it all does...)

3(O - .5A) = 2(C - .25A)

Anyway, science should with those assumptions be able to come up with a good idea of what Nephelium looked like, how much more intelligent they were than us, etc. I just wanted to know what anyone else thought, and if my math made sense, even if you disagree with what it represents.

Sitchin’s Official Website

---

Thursday the 28th of December, 2007.

It is 2:37pm at the moment.

2007-12-27 16:51:45, Ashley

o.O

Well...I'm guessing there are 2 Ashley's here, because I didn't leave that comment. Granted I do agree with it for the MOST part, I didn't leave it. Lol.

Ashley,

I find that interesting. I bet there have been two Ashleys for a long time now. Sometimes I’ve felt that you’ve said something unlike what I thought you would say, and that explains it.

2007-12-27 04:52:25 , Nicole

Well, from one pregnant teenager to another, it's not exactly the ball of fun you think it's going to be. I'm sorry your father isn't taking it as well as you'd like him to, but maybe he just needs time to adjust to the idea. I think you'll have no problem raising a child, and I think you're totally right when you say that he or she will never EVER be without love, but after reading some of what you've written about you and My boyfriend, I'm worried a baby might further complicate your relationship. It sucks to feel alone and abandoned when your boyfriend is at work or with his friends, but when you're pregnant with his baby, it's a whole new level of worry and emptiness and despair. I hope it turns out for the best, I'm crossing my fingers for you. Much love!

2007-12-27 13:45:14 Tater

This is a super complicated situation (I'm really hoping you are pregnant..it makes me excited for some reason...maybe it is because I am trying to get pregnant)...but it is extremely life changing (which I know you know) and as far as your father, I agree with the others...I think he is scared and frustrated, etc. but I think he will come around. Just keep trying to talk to him but most of all...give a lot of love to yourself..esp. if you are pregnant...the less stress the better for the baby, sweetie (easier said than done, though)..Life is full of wonderful people and things and this is coming from ME who lost their sister to murder and their mom to cancer in such a short time..if I can somehow lift myself up out of crazy insane despair and grief, I think you can get through all of this with flying colors....thinking of you and hoping you will start to have more happy days than sad....Ultimately (and THIS is easier said than done too) you have complete control over YOUR emotions...they don't have to control you...Good luck. I will pray for you and send you a ton of good vibes (I will send it to your family and My boyfriend, too)...in fact, I'm going to go someplace quiet right now and send all of you love and peace and good health and wisdom to make good decisions, etc.

Nicole,

I’m positive it won’t be easy. Child birth, nursing and getting up a lot in the middle of the night are the three things that scare me the most. That, and My boyfriend’s fear. He’s terrified, but he is trying very hard to be strong and comforting for my sake. It’s true that My boyfriend is a variable. I don’t feel like I can count on his constant support. But I don’t think he’ll be disappearing with his friends much at all after it’s confirmed that I’m pregnant.

He keeps saying, my life is over, which is a bad thing to say, and a good thing too. Bad, because it means that he’s more afraid of this life that he’s known ending than he is excited for this new one beginning. Good because he recognizes that his responsibilities will be much grander, much more important, much more pressing. He’s mostly fretting about his income. He’s worried that if he loses his job that there might be a gap in which he’d have to work a shitty job before finding another tattoo shop to hire him, and other things along those lines. I, however, believe that he will step up to the plate when he realizes he’s a father, and I believe that he will be overcome with joy by the reality.

The anticipation is the worst part, right?

Tater,

I found out this morning that my father is actually very afraid for my mother’s health. And aparently when my mother said "I want to live to see my baby" he thought that she might just die after seeing Corvie. (I’m calling the baby Corvie until we know the gender.) His argument for this is that people live for years with cancer until they’re opened up and know they have it, and then they die within a couple weeks. It’s a good point, but not a relevant analogy in my opinion, and in the opinion of my mother.

I think your wisdom must have hit me this morning. That is, the wisdom and vibes you sent me. I suddenly got this pang in my chest, and it wasn’t an entirely new feeling. I usually feel it while mediating. Sometimes it’s almost pleasant, but this time, it was straining. I felt dizzy, and I had to go sit, and when I did, I opened up notepad on my mother’s computer and I typed the following:

I have a message for you, I'm am coming and you better get ready for me.

I love you.

I hope you remember me, I remember you.

You need to meditate more, I'll see you then.

Though I heard the words in my head just before typing them, the rate at which I typed this message was so fast, and so consistent, even though I couldn’t have said what the message was until I had typed it. Afterwards I shook, almost burst out into tears, and then, it was as though I had opened a door. I saw this little ball of light swimming around my head.

This somehow pleases me immensely. I find it interesting that I didn’t feel sure I was pregnant until then, and that last night was the first night that I was so committed to the thought of having this baby that I sat there and prayed to keep it, saying over and over again that I want this baby.

I ever made sure My boyfriend said he wants this too. Though he kept amending it with his fear.

---

Friday the 28th of December, 2007.

It is 7:47pm at the moment.

That was interesting, but not very fun. Roy, my brother, is here from Texas. He’s leaving again early Sunday morning. He was up in My boyfriend’s and my apartment when Jeremy showed up. It’s Jeremy’s birthday, and since he was already visiting several people, it wasn’t too far out of the way for him to stop here. It probably wasn’t out of the way at all.

I was playing tekken when he got here. Jeremy said he’d play a few rounds before setting out again. Just into our second match Jay and Laura showed up. At this point, it’s kinda cool, but also kinda annoying. I don’t like having a "party" unexpectedly. But since Roy was already here, I figured I didn’t mind.

Roy went downstairs shortly, perhaps it was too much noise, or perhaps he felt like he was invading. Jeremy went on his way shortly after that, leaving me with Jay and Laura. Jay, was drugged up, as usual, and so was Laura. I discovered that Laura and Mich broke up, which explained why Jay was pretty much all over her, as he is with any girl who will let him be.

Jay played a few rounds of tekken with me, and then I guess he got bored. He put the controller down and remarked about how he needed music. I obliged and began to play the playlist I’ve collected on my DVR of music videos. I didn’t really want them there anymore, an hour was plenty of socialization with them. I’m just not interesting in hanging around the drug-crowd anymore, at all really.

I’d enjoy a book club much more, or a creative writing group, or making an art piece with a few people to make something totally wild and fun. But watching music videos with two people completely drugged out is totally dull. The conversation is about nothing, just like the music videos are about nothing, unless you count tits and ass.

I find that my brother and I can’t find anything to talk about but chicks either. How drab.

At some point Jay asks when My boyfriend is coming home. Laura answers faster than I do, "eleven" and I said, "eleven-thirty is when he gets home." They looked at the clock, it was seven o’clock. I watched my play-list roll on by, wishing I was doing something else for another half-hour. Jay made remarks about needing to go outside to smoke a cigarette. I decided that I’d wait until he gave into the craving before telling him that he needed to go.

They left. I went to see what my brother was up to. He was still browsing myspace, only this time on mom’s computer. He remarked that he was bored, but didn’t suggest doing anything about it. I tried making small-talk with him about this and that, but couldn’t come up with anything real to talk about. And so I came up here.

I never know what to do with a day like this. It’s best if I latch onto a project all day long, like cleaning, construction, art-editing, drawing, website-building, reading, scrap-booking, or a video game. Then for a break, I’ll do one of the other things for a little while, and then get back to the day’s focus. Today didn’t have a focus at all, and that makes it hard for me to want to do anything at this point in the day, especially since I didn’t get as many hours of sleep as usual.

I suppose I should just be happy mom helped me put the coat hooks up today. Thanks mom!