Heritage

First and foremost I am American and in all honesty I find some pride in that. But as an American I know that my ancestral roots are based in other countries and cultures from Irish to German (and possibly Russian? Not so sure on that...). Mediterranean to Native American (So I've been told. I'm not even going to show my ignorance by guessing a tribe.). I've been told mixed things throughout my childhood, "You're American, what else doesn't matter." "You should know your heritage and take pride in it." But because one side of my families horrible filing skills I have no way of knowing exactly -who- my ancestors were or what their lives and cultures were like.

I know you watch my Blog aunt Kari so I would appreciate any info, if at all, you have on the matter. I'd like to go about getting as much information about my personal family history together and then research and develop a sense of my ancestral culture as well as recording my own for future generations. I want to go about this in a respectful manner however.

Recently running into a Native American blogger who cataloged Indian Appropriation across the country I realized just how little I know. I to have donned feathers and war paint with little thought as to their meaning. Admittedly I was giving a 3rd grade presentation on Sacajawea at the time.

This will not be a short term, quick project. I expect it to last most of my lifetime if not all of the rest of it. How can I learn multiple cultures, respectfully and my own personal history in a few months or years what my ancestors had to do their whole lives, that their different peoples and countries slowly and painstakingly developed over centuries?

Dream

I just had the first Carl dream I've had in several months and it is by far the worst I've ever had. So much so that when I woke up I was already in tears and I had actually wet my underwear. Thankfully the sheets didn't get touched.

I lived in a trailer park with my mother and two younger siblings. There was an older girl and a younger boy however they where a lot younger then Llerendel or Taran. Also my mother had fully gray hair and was much older then she is even now and the siblings where no older then thirteen and seven. My mother had a boyfriend, Carl, who was spending dinner with us. He was going to sleep over but sleep on the couch. This didn't happen as soon after dinner (we all went straight to bed) he entered my mothers room and crawled into bed with her. The subsequent failed seduction and rape of her I'll not bother relating, know that I will not sleep well for weeks because of it.

We woke up the next morning and I knew something was wrong but neither sibling noticed. He stayed with us for several days in which he started to use me as a personal servant, cleaning house, doing laundry, picking up after my siblings of whom he asked nothing from. I didn't get to speak to anyone and we wheren't allowed to go to school.

Finally after four days we all walked out to the train tracks and my mother looked horrible, she looked like she would keel over any moment. The train tracks where oddly high and we could sit on an old unused platform next to them. Carl tied my mothers hands and feet and proceeded to lay her down on the tracks. My siblings didn't care, they had fun jumping over the tracks and even though I looked on in horror as a train approached I could do NOTHING to save her.

The train passed but my mother wasn't dead, she'd suffered a huge head injury but seemed fine, even got up on her own and walked back to the house hand in hand with Carl. when we got home she started making dinner and I started to shove him away from her screaming 'call the police! call the police! I'll hold him off!' everybody just looked at me confused, angry or with pity. I eventually turned to my mother, "You're not going to call the police?" She shrugged and gave me a sheepish smile. I didn't know what to do, I kept shoving him away and it didn't work, he was that much stronger then me though he didn't raise a hand against me. I woke up by bashing my head against the desk next to my bed.

I'm going to go spend the night with Bridget I think. Hopefully she won't mind my invasion.

Phobia

Did you know I'm afraid of being alone? I'm terrified of being all by myself, my friends and family having left me behind because they realize exactly how I am. I'm a huge contradiction. I'm really not sure how to explain it except there is an inner me, a dry shriveled and hateful beast. And an outer me, a thick layered happy person, a wall of smiles and jokes and laughter to keep people for knowing the inner nasty me. I've gotten so good at covering up the inner me that I sometimes forget she's there, waiting for just the right nudge to come tumbling out.

She's there, waiting for me to snap and yell, fight, even hit. I can't contain her because I keep feeding her. All my hate and sorrow, all my burning desires and painful memories. She's why I forget words, words have meanings and those meanings lead to other words, words I'd rather forget. So I do. But because of this I wander around and in mid conversation I have to stop for a moment or two just to figure out the word I wanted was 'House' or 'Cloud' or something so trivial it's funny. It's a great joke to others and I use it as such so I don't have to explain that 'House' reminds me of my old home, sitting on the stairs at the age of 8 while my parents scream at each other not but ten feet away. Or that 'Cloud' reminds me of how I used to be, young and always happy.

That does seem to be the time that the inner me and outer me where created. We had just moved to North Carolina from Wisconsin for my mother's work. I don't remember a happy time in that house during those first couple of years but I'm sure we laughed and played some time. It seems like ever sense then my life has just been one train wreck after another. My parents divorce was the biggest thing, they where both so nasty to each other and I was torn between wanting them both and wanting to run away. I never wanted to live with any of my immediate family. It would just continue. I drew plans to go to the other coast, to go back to Wisconsin. Nothing ever came of it. I'm a coward even though most see me as strong. The inner me is a coward while the outer me is a hero. I hate the outer me but if I was to be the inner me then no one would love me anymore. Or worse yet they would pity me. God. I don't want pity. I want strong arms to hold me. I want small ones to hold and I want everyone to keep loving me as long as I can be outer me and not leave me all alone when that facade breaks.

Recent is to varying a word. It could mean from five moments ago to two years prior. so I won't say that I recently turned eighteen, I'll say that I turned eighteen on February 9th. It was almost four months ago that I moved out of my father and step mother's house and into the house of a family who has been my own for at least eight years. It's only by the grace of them that I'm not on the street. That sounds morbid but just like the word 'recent' you cant judge it by first appearance or your own perspective on it's meaning. I'd like to think that I'm not a complex person, not someone you have to sit down for hours with just to figure out which way their wind blows, but I will say that I contain a vast amount of stupid, pig headed pride. My father and step-mother could barely support themselves when I left, my sister and brothers are either in college, just out of college or in the Marine corps. I could no more put a strain on them then I had to.

In my panic to get out of the house I did something terrible. I ran to others that could support me, begged for help which they gave freely. I took advantage of their being well off so my first family wouldn't have to pay for me anymore. I used them.

I have to admit that using people doesn't bother me that much. I use and manipulate people all the time to get what I want. Generally speaking it's nothing harmless, a free fountain drink, a ride home, nothing to expensive or awful. But I feel a deep regret when I stop to think about what I've done. It drives me to clean as much as I can while I look for a job, throw all my clothes in together to lessen the number of loads instead of sorting them out (something my bra's will never forgive me for). Anything I can to save a penny off of what they're already paying for me.

I new from the moment I put my bags down that I couldn't just leave. I can't leave until I can take care of myself in the vary least financially. The family I live with loves me as much as I love them and I couldn't just up and go someday like a cat that ran away, I'd like to think our connection is much deeper then that. I'd like to think that they would be sad and worried and even angry if I disappeared, they would probably call the police and form search parties. Though I'm not sure how much that's pushing what they would really do I can't cause them the grief by doing that. They took me in and helped me, if I just waste that then I'm throw that in their faces. So it's pride that brought me here, and it's pride that keeps me.

I have no job prospects, I have no hope of getting one in the current climate, my father has a master's degree and can't find one, So I'll continue to clean for them (and god do they need it)until I find something.

I think pride will be the death of me.