Deleting Facebook

Looking over my old blogs, all four of them, I can really hear my younger voice. I haven't changed much in that I'm so very sincere that it's almost childlike. I want to express that part of me more, even if I don't have an audience. I just want to put it out there. Hence, this blog. I've begun the process of saving photos on my Facebook account so I can delete it. It's not social anymore, it's just a parade of memes and self-righteous people with Very Strong Opinions on the dumbest crap. I find myself scrolling on my smartphone for long stretches of time, just reading over what these people are posting, and it's gotten so old. I don't actually interact with my "friends" beyond Likes and short, superficial Comments. And most of the time I feel that they're obligatory. I don't keep people around me in the real world when they can't satisfy something in me. Why should I do it for those people on an internet platform, people I haven't seen in years, and people I won't ever see again in real life (or at least who I hope I won't ever see again in real life)? I did post my email and Skype info so people can still reach me if they want to. That post received mostly half-hearted comments telling me to stay. Nope.
So I'm going to keep this diary. I am growing up; I turned 35 this year. I feel more mature than I ever have; I feel like an adult. I have a desk job, I wear sunscreen daily, and I almost never drink til I'm drunk. I travel a lot, I have a 401k and health insurance, and I'm preparing Tristan for college (he starts high school in a week). These are all things adults do. I'm not grumpy though, and I haven't gotten very fat (just a little), and I have so many plans for my future. Mostly trips.
This September Travion and I are going to Jekyll Island, GA to camp for a weekend and go to the Wild Georgia Shrimp Festival, anyway it's called something like that. Then in October, Melinda and I are meeting in Las Vegas for a weekend to celebrate our 35th birthdays...as Tristan said, "We've begun to decline!"
I am looking forward to my "decline" because I am going into it with a lighter feeling of happiness on a continuing, daily basis, more than I ever have before. No medication necessary.

Big bad discovery

I was just going through a booklet that my great-uncle Gene put together. He's been into genealogy for years, and this was something he made a few years ago. It turns out my great great great grandfather, Isaac Spivey, had a plantation with slaves. I hadn't known this before; I've always thought that my family were all immigrants from Ireland and Poland. Now I know different, and it makes me feel a little sick to my stomach. I even let out a few tears, even though I tried not to because should it hurt me so bad? But it's how I feel. In the story on him, it says he fought in the Civil War and came out unhurt, but that he lost $15,000 worth of slaves. I'm so embarrassed. I mean, I know things were different back then, but just the thought that I am descended from people who thought it was okay to hold human beings hostage and force them to work for nothing for their whole lives, and split up families, and deny them basic rights, like freedom to make their own life choices, and all of it, just makes me feel sad. What does it make me?

What is going on is a whole lot of everything

I'm sitting here in Panama City, Florida, in Calloway, kinda chilling really. Joey drove down here with her kids and brought Alexandra with her. They scooped me in Thomasville, so here we are. I've been boring this week, I wish I was back in Thomasville with Tristan and Travion. It feels so right to me to have my family back. I'm kind of stressing because I will totally be in Travion's territory when I get back there, like I don't know anyone, and the ppl I've met I don't think I'd have a real connection with. It's just that Thomasville is so small that there are all these friendship/relationship dynamics that I don't understand. And a lot of the people are so unlike me that even if we get along and talk nice, I can't imagine really getting close to anyone. And I felt that way about Travion when we were married too, like there was this barrier that couldn't be crossed. I hate to say that I think it has to do with intellectualism or lack thereof, but when I've tried to turn topics to more serious, thoughtful, thinking type conversations, I got blank stares. Not every time, but they're just less interested in it. Now I'm not saying that I'm smarter than them, it's just I think differently and I enjoy discussing social issues and political developments. And I find myself being quiet, since I just don't really know how to carry on insipid conversations beyond nodding and agreeing. And I want to talk about stuff!!
But I'm more than willing to go for it. I think back to how intensely Travion loved me, how he'd do anything for me, whether I asked or not. I think he really does still love me, and I don't think he ever stopped. I feel the same. And that is most important to me. I need love. I mean, I think we did go through phases of hating each other too, but that passionate, heart-pounding emotion was always there. Mama and Joey and a couple other people have said that Travion and I just needed to grow up a little more. We always had fun together, and I think we gave each other what we needed, but we had to live our own lives as independent adults before we could truly appreciate what it means to dedicate yourself to ensuring another person's well-being. Today, at this moment, I'm hoping that it works out. Mama sent an email telling me that our talents and determination combined will mean big things and real happiness for us, and that meant so much to me that she said that. I am a Mama's girl, can't help it, and I need to hear good things from her to feel secure with what I do.
So we'll be in Thomasville tomorrow, to spend a night or two, celebrate Travion's 34th birthday, and then we're all driving back to Virginia so I can see my family, and gather my little possessions, and once my car is fixed, I will be headed back to that cute little small town that I hope to call home very soon. So I'm basically feeling happy and excited, and I know that no matter what, I'm a survivor, and what's more, I am an expert at picking myself up when my world falls apart, as it has so many times before. I don't think it's a curse either, to lose everything over and over. It's all a learning experience, right? But if my future is nothing but love and being breezy and watching my little boy enjoy having his family together again, I will be beyond satisfied. I'll be ecstatic.

One good thing about having to get up to pee all night long is that each time I'm on my way back in, I look up at the sky. I won't be able to see a sky like this one when I get back home. It's so, so dark, almost black, but still blue, so pretty, and thousands of stars. It's so interesting to look at really, I like to see the little clusters the best, and try to count how many are hanging out together. The light from those stars all combines and it makes this fuzzy bright patch in the sky. I haven't seen a single shooting star yet, and I'm surprised. I thought I'd get to be making all these wishes, but I haven't had a single one. One night, I had gotten drunk (on wine of course) because the Scottish kid Jaime had come over to eat my chicken soup. Pepper soup really, I messed up a little. Anyway, after he had gone home, I laid out in the yard and looked at the sky. The grass was wet and cold, but I had my hoodie on so I was cool. I was like, oh beautiful night, I'm being so poetic right now. But I was drunk. And laying down. So the sky kept rocking back and forth and all the stars were just blobs of light. Bobby (the dog) kept sniffing at me and trying to put his arms on me too, so that added to the distraction. Whatever, I just tell myself like I do for everything here that doesn't quite turn out right...I did that in the foothills of the Caucasus mountains. I've also stepped in cow manure barefoot except for pantyhose in the foothills of the Caucasus mountains, and I've gotten belligerently drunk and thrown a temper tantrum in the foothills of the Caucasus mountains, and I've sat in bed for countless hours surfing the web out of incurable boredom in the foothills of the Caucasus mountains. K I should go make coffee or wash my hair or something. I have a whole class today at a quarter to 2.

Creating a blog

So this is what everybody's been doing for the last ten years, huh? Typing some shit into a box and then making it public. I picked the dumbest title ever for my blog, but I'm not good at naming things under pressure. Anyway, I'm sitting here in my chilly wooden room in Merjevi Village, Georgia, counting down the hours til I'm on a plane again, on my way back to my real life. I have to pee, too, but it's like I always have to pee when I'm wrapped in blankets and they've finally warmed from my body heat. I didn't get to sleep last night until about 6 am because I: one, couldn't stop thinking, and two, couldn't stop peeing. I think it's that self-destructive force I keep as a pet that has been influencing my bladder. I didn't keep going to the bathroom all night when it was warm outside, but now that it's nice and cold, I'm up 5 times a night. To the squatter, no less, on the way to which I meet no fewer than three mice and a pregnant rat, and recently I've been imagining I hear low growling out in the darkness of the yard. Or maybe I'm not imagining it. Last night my flashlight lit up a white towel hanging on the line and I almost screamed. I totally thought it was a ghost, like my face and neck got all hot and stuff. I'm Skyping with Samantha E right now, she's a teacher in the next city over. We're talking about writing, and I sent her Tristan's "Backpack" because I love him and my "Death is Not an Option" because I love me. I don't have Brad's "Death is Not an Option" unfortunately. Oh and for anyone who wants to know, we both have stories with the same title because Mama likes to give us topics/titles of stories and have us write what comes to us. It's fun. She writes it on the dry erase board in the kitchen, and we go for it. I love my mom...Anyway, starting to ramble. I'll come back for more of my public diary later.