I was reading my friend Emmy's blog entry about her wedding disaster, and it reminded me of the awful prom experience I had, and guess what: she was involved in that, too (though it was NOT her fault). It's been almost ten years, but I thought I would write it out for all to enjoy.
In January 2001, my senior year, I began to date of of my brother Lindley's friends. His name was Steve, and he was in an "alt country" band with my brother. Needless to say, he was around the house a lot and we started to have feelings for one another (which caused Lindley to pick on both of us incessantly). Anyway, we started dating in January and honestly, it was a pretty bland relationship. We were never very serious. I thought he was cute, but it mostly just felt like a friendship (well, a friendship in which we occasionally kissed, and we hung out all the time). Anyway, Steve had already graduated, but he asked me if he could be my date to the senior prom. I had agreed. I wasn't really sure at that point if I was going, but now that I had a date, I thought, Why not? This was probably in January or February, and the prom was toward the end of April. Plenty of time to get ready, right?
I ordered my dress online and it arrived soon after and fit perfectly. It was a royal blue spaghetti strap dress with a sheer black layer, causing it to appear to be dark blue. It had a corset lace up the back and an a-line skirt (very pretty). Anyway, my friend Emily and I decided to double date. She'd gotten a date with a mutual friend, an underclassman. We spent the day getting ready together at my parents' house. We had a lunch of tacos, and spent hours beautifying ourselves. My mom curled my hair and pulled it partially back with pretty rhinestone hair pins. I hadn't heard from Steve that day, so I started to get nervous. I had called him a few times, but he didn't answer (he didn't have a cell phone - only a land line). Anyway, he was supposed to pick up Emily's date and we were all riding together. Finally, he shows up (late) and we start to take photos at my parents' house. I handed him a pretty coral rose boutinierre (sp?) that I had gotten him. He didn't have anything for me. I asked him why he didn't get me a corsage, and he said something lame like he didn't have time to pick one up for me. Apparently, three months is not enough time! This made me very upset, as this was one of the things I was really looking forward to. I'd never gotten a corsage before.
Anyway, we went off for the restaraurant. We went to Steam Room, a steak/seafood place. I ordered something and he didn't even offer to pay- we split it! (I had already paid for the prom tickets). Things couldn't get much worse, now could they? Wrong.
We finally got to the prom, and Steve sat his ass down in a chair all night, while I mingled with friends, every one of them asking if I had a date or not (I didn't have a corsage, or, you know, a PERSON with me!) He didn't dance a single dance with me all night. I begged him to. He didn't even take prom photos with me. He did the "senior walk through" with me, and I had to beg him to even do that much. He said he didn't feel well.
Finally, he said he felt bad enough to go home. He asked if I was coming with him. I agreed to go with him, because I didn't have another ride home. My friend Emily and her date found a ride home with someone else. I was home and in bed by 11 PM and I cried myself to sleep.
Needless to say, soon after, Steve and I broke up. Lindley got really upset with him for treating me this way, and the band broke up, too. Hahaha. I was the Yoko Ono of that band.
Years down the road, my husband has always known that I've wanted a corsage. He got me one for Valentine's Day 2006, I believe it was. It was absolutely perfect. It had dark red roses, purple and black ribbons, and little sticks with rhinestones on them. It was so beautiful that it made me cry. I wore it on my wrist all day at work. I didn't care how silly I looked. I still have it. I wish I had known David my senior year of high school - we would have had so much fun together at prom. I wouldn't meet him for another 8 or 9 months, though.
Long story short: prom sucks. It will never live up to your expectations. I don't care if I have a daughter and she wants to go. That's fine. I'm just going to let her know up front.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Monday, August 2, 2010
Heat waves and nostalgia
So the high today is going to be 103, with a heat index of 110. It's going to be right at 100 or higher every day this week. I loathe summer. Oh, how I long for autumn, with the crisp evenings and lack of humidity, colorful leaves drifting to the ground... It's August, and in Mississippi, that means we have at least two and a half more months of this crap. It may cool off a little bit, but back in 2008, we didn't get our first cool snap until thanksgiving. I hope that doesn't happen again this year.....
Our A/C is blasting at full capacity. I went to bed and it was still warm in the bedroom. Sometime during the night, it cooled to a nice temperature, because I remember that the nature of my dreams changed. I dreamt that I was going to somewhere with a cooler climate, and I could feel the change in temperature, which more than likely coincided with the A/C finally starting to cool things down. Then, just before I woke, I dreamed that I was going to India, of all places. So much for the cooler climate....
I stumbled upon an old blog of mine today. http://ashmcperk.livejournal.com/
Ah, the good old days of being impoverished and in nursing school, working two jobs and living off three hours of sleep, being 2 months behind on rent, living on caffeine and nicotine, and having chronic bronchitis as a result...I do miss some of the friendships, though. And is it just me, or do I never go out anymore? I miss going to shows and seeing bands perform. I'm becoming and old fogey and I'm not even 30. Somewhere in the journal, a posting from 2008, I believe, I said that in a couple of years I hoped we'd own a house and to be working on a baby McPerk. *snorts* Life never turns out the way you hope, does it? That's not to say I'm unhappy -I'm not. I'm very happy. I have a better job, and though we struggle, at least we are able to pay all of our bills. Things are a hell of a lot better than they used to be.
I miss my Gilda and Rameses though. I miss hanging out with Rachel. I miss driving around south Jackson with her, not really going anywhere, smoking and listening to music. I miss some things, but others I do not.
Our A/C is blasting at full capacity. I went to bed and it was still warm in the bedroom. Sometime during the night, it cooled to a nice temperature, because I remember that the nature of my dreams changed. I dreamt that I was going to somewhere with a cooler climate, and I could feel the change in temperature, which more than likely coincided with the A/C finally starting to cool things down. Then, just before I woke, I dreamed that I was going to India, of all places. So much for the cooler climate....
I stumbled upon an old blog of mine today. http://ashmcperk.livejournal.com/
Ah, the good old days of being impoverished and in nursing school, working two jobs and living off three hours of sleep, being 2 months behind on rent, living on caffeine and nicotine, and having chronic bronchitis as a result...I do miss some of the friendships, though. And is it just me, or do I never go out anymore? I miss going to shows and seeing bands perform. I'm becoming and old fogey and I'm not even 30. Somewhere in the journal, a posting from 2008, I believe, I said that in a couple of years I hoped we'd own a house and to be working on a baby McPerk. *snorts* Life never turns out the way you hope, does it? That's not to say I'm unhappy -I'm not. I'm very happy. I have a better job, and though we struggle, at least we are able to pay all of our bills. Things are a hell of a lot better than they used to be.
I miss my Gilda and Rameses though. I miss hanging out with Rachel. I miss driving around south Jackson with her, not really going anywhere, smoking and listening to music. I miss some things, but others I do not.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
warhellride
I'm a fan of the musician Wesley Willis. He died in 2003 from cancer. He created unique, sometimes vulgar, music, to drive away the "demons" in his head. He had chronic schizophrenia. When he would go through a psychotic episode with the demons, he would call it a "warhellride." He also wrote a few touching songs about Jesus. I hope that he got to meet Him face to face.
I'm not schizophrenic, but I have had my own struggles with mental illness. It all started around the age of 15 or 16. I had a family history of anxiety attacks and depression. My older brother, Lindley, had frequent panic attacks and obsessive compulsive disorder. My mom had them too. I was no exception.
The first time I'd ever really read about OCD was in Teen Magazine. I'd heard of it and had a vague idea of what it was. I guess I was about 13 or 14 when I read this article, so this was around 1996. From what I understood, OCD sufferers usually had pretty obvious outward manifestations of it- compulsive handwashing, counting, checking, cleaning, etc. I had none of these. My OCD started small- I would get a funny feeling about a certain chair (a recliner) in the living room at my parents' house. I couldn't sit there - it was contaminated in some way. I couldn't take baths, only showers. I couldn't allow my body to sit in the same place as someone else's naked body (I still have a hard time doing this). Later, as I began to explore faith and re-discover the Christianity of my youth, these became religious obsessions.
At first, I didn't realize that what I had was OCD. I'd never heard of this type before. I had been studying the Bible verse in which Jesus discusses the "unforgiveable sin," which is mentioned in the synoptic gospels. I was certain I had commited this sin. I suddenly found images pushing their way into my head. It's hard for me to say out loud (or type) what these images were - that would make them seem more real to me- but let's just say they were very awful. Violent encounters between me and God/Jesus. Me cursing Him out, etc. You get the picture. These images and thoughts would play through my head over and over, as if I was watching a movie and someone kept skipping back to this scene and watching it over and over and over again...I would try to think other thoughts to push these obviously blasphemous thoughts from my mind, but to no avail. They were in my head all day, every day. There was no escape from my mind.
To atone for my sinful thoughts, I would often lock myself in my bedroom for hours, praying and reading the Bible. Every time the thought came into my head, I would beg God for forgiveness. Sometimes I would leave my room to watch TV, and then I would feel guilty that I wasn't praying/reading the Bible, and so I'd go back to my room.
The thoughts continued. They got worse, more graphic. I knew that my salvation was lost, that I was unforgiven, but I just had to let God know I was sorry, I didn't mean to have these thoughts. They were like a virus in my mind, one I couldn't seem to get rid of. I thought I was going crazy.
The thoughts became dreams. I'd lie in bed, late at night, thinking about hell, which is where I was certain I was going. I thought about how awful it would be. I wasn't sure if it would be "fire and brimstone," or just an awful place of lonliness and darkness. I'd dream about a fiery hell. At night sometimes, I wondered. If I was going to hell anyway, what was life here on Earth, but a delaying of the inevitable? I wondered if I should continue living, or if I should just bite the proverbial bullet and go ahead and get this eternity thing started (as if eternity would ever have an end). My life had become hell. I never was seriously suicidal. I never attempted suicide, but the thoughts did cross my mind.
One day, I was at school and I broke into tears in the middle of class. I think this was my junior year. My teacher sent me to the guidance counselor's office. The guidance counselor let me sit in her office and tell her what had been going on. Luckily, she was a PhD. When I explained it all to her, she said, "Oh, that just sounds like OCD."
What? I wasn't scrubbing my hands raw, flipping a light switch off and on, or anything like that. I didn't know that this was a form of OCD. It was called scrupulosity, and it's more common with Catholics, apparently, and I was raised Protestant. My counselor set me up with an appointment with a psychiatrist at her clinic and this was a great help to me. The thing that helped most of all was knowing I wasn't going crazy, others had suffered from this too. I wasn't alone. I think that was the worst feeling - feeling completely and utterly alone. That was hell to me.
So much has changed in the last twelve years or so. I still struggle with OCD, but it has gotten so much better. There are still little obsessions, but I've learned to live with them. The most important thing is that my faith has gotten stronger. God heard my cries in the dark. He never left my side. He loves me and I'm not scared about hell anymore. He was the One that was by my side the whole time. If not for Jesus, and the people He put in my life to save me, I think I may be dead by now.
A book that I discovered that was immensely helpful was The Doubting Disease: Help for Scrupulosity and Religious Compulsions by Joseph Ciarrocchi. I highly recommend it.
I guess I wrote this post to let others that may struggle with this know, It's OK. You're not alone. It's a disease. There is help. You never have to go it alone.
I'm not schizophrenic, but I have had my own struggles with mental illness. It all started around the age of 15 or 16. I had a family history of anxiety attacks and depression. My older brother, Lindley, had frequent panic attacks and obsessive compulsive disorder. My mom had them too. I was no exception.
The first time I'd ever really read about OCD was in Teen Magazine. I'd heard of it and had a vague idea of what it was. I guess I was about 13 or 14 when I read this article, so this was around 1996. From what I understood, OCD sufferers usually had pretty obvious outward manifestations of it- compulsive handwashing, counting, checking, cleaning, etc. I had none of these. My OCD started small- I would get a funny feeling about a certain chair (a recliner) in the living room at my parents' house. I couldn't sit there - it was contaminated in some way. I couldn't take baths, only showers. I couldn't allow my body to sit in the same place as someone else's naked body (I still have a hard time doing this). Later, as I began to explore faith and re-discover the Christianity of my youth, these became religious obsessions.
At first, I didn't realize that what I had was OCD. I'd never heard of this type before. I had been studying the Bible verse in which Jesus discusses the "unforgiveable sin," which is mentioned in the synoptic gospels. I was certain I had commited this sin. I suddenly found images pushing their way into my head. It's hard for me to say out loud (or type) what these images were - that would make them seem more real to me- but let's just say they were very awful. Violent encounters between me and God/Jesus. Me cursing Him out, etc. You get the picture. These images and thoughts would play through my head over and over, as if I was watching a movie and someone kept skipping back to this scene and watching it over and over and over again...I would try to think other thoughts to push these obviously blasphemous thoughts from my mind, but to no avail. They were in my head all day, every day. There was no escape from my mind.
To atone for my sinful thoughts, I would often lock myself in my bedroom for hours, praying and reading the Bible. Every time the thought came into my head, I would beg God for forgiveness. Sometimes I would leave my room to watch TV, and then I would feel guilty that I wasn't praying/reading the Bible, and so I'd go back to my room.
The thoughts continued. They got worse, more graphic. I knew that my salvation was lost, that I was unforgiven, but I just had to let God know I was sorry, I didn't mean to have these thoughts. They were like a virus in my mind, one I couldn't seem to get rid of. I thought I was going crazy.
The thoughts became dreams. I'd lie in bed, late at night, thinking about hell, which is where I was certain I was going. I thought about how awful it would be. I wasn't sure if it would be "fire and brimstone," or just an awful place of lonliness and darkness. I'd dream about a fiery hell. At night sometimes, I wondered. If I was going to hell anyway, what was life here on Earth, but a delaying of the inevitable? I wondered if I should continue living, or if I should just bite the proverbial bullet and go ahead and get this eternity thing started (as if eternity would ever have an end). My life had become hell. I never was seriously suicidal. I never attempted suicide, but the thoughts did cross my mind.
One day, I was at school and I broke into tears in the middle of class. I think this was my junior year. My teacher sent me to the guidance counselor's office. The guidance counselor let me sit in her office and tell her what had been going on. Luckily, she was a PhD. When I explained it all to her, she said, "Oh, that just sounds like OCD."
What? I wasn't scrubbing my hands raw, flipping a light switch off and on, or anything like that. I didn't know that this was a form of OCD. It was called scrupulosity, and it's more common with Catholics, apparently, and I was raised Protestant. My counselor set me up with an appointment with a psychiatrist at her clinic and this was a great help to me. The thing that helped most of all was knowing I wasn't going crazy, others had suffered from this too. I wasn't alone. I think that was the worst feeling - feeling completely and utterly alone. That was hell to me.
So much has changed in the last twelve years or so. I still struggle with OCD, but it has gotten so much better. There are still little obsessions, but I've learned to live with them. The most important thing is that my faith has gotten stronger. God heard my cries in the dark. He never left my side. He loves me and I'm not scared about hell anymore. He was the One that was by my side the whole time. If not for Jesus, and the people He put in my life to save me, I think I may be dead by now.
A book that I discovered that was immensely helpful was The Doubting Disease: Help for Scrupulosity and Religious Compulsions by Joseph Ciarrocchi. I highly recommend it.
I guess I wrote this post to let others that may struggle with this know, It's OK. You're not alone. It's a disease. There is help. You never have to go it alone.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Warning: self righteous tirade ahead.....
As a Christian- well, as a human being- there is one thing that drives me crazy: so called "prosperity preaching." It takes on many forms- the televangelist asking you to call in and give a donation, the church down the street (I've actually heard of churches auditing your income to make sure you are really giving them ten percent), the chain emails sent to you stating that God has a blessing in the form of money coming to you if you forward the email, even going so far as to say that if you don't forward the email, you are ashamed of God.
I, for one, do not think that when I die, God is going to say, "Well, Ashley, you didn't forward that email, so....." I think He will ask me about my actions, why I didn't love my brothers and sisters, why I had such a temper problem, why I wasted so many opportunities.
Anyway, not to rip off the author Donald Miller here, but a lot of people want to treat God like a divine slot machine: do your good works, go to church, say your prayers, tithe (especially tithe), and boom: God is going to bless you with this material wealth, or a spouse, or children, or a new job. The list goes on and on. It's like, we don't really care about God or a relationship with Him. We only care about what He can give us. What we put in and what He can give us in return. As if God needs our money!!! The Creator of the universe is concerned with ten percent of my measly salary!!! He can't go on without it!!!
Now, I am NOT saying that you shouldn't give money or tithe. It says so in the Bible. What I AM saying is, maybe that homeless person down the street needs that money (or food) a little more than your church building fund, so your church can add a bowling alley for the youth. Maybe that single mom needs the money a little more than the rich televangelist. Maybe we shouldn't worry so much about forwarding stupid, superstitious emails. Maybe we can also tithe with our time. I don't think God expects us to sit down like accountants and figure this all out.
It just makes me sick to see people profiting off of others being gullible. Screw the giant shiny church building. Give that money to people that need it. Read the story of the rich man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19-31). The thing that pisses me off the most, is that people see this and think, that's what CHRISTIANITY is all about! It's about stealing people's money, bashing gays, supporting war and the death penalty, and people that agree with our narrow minded opinions. Blurring the lines between Church and State is killing us as believers. People want to equate Christianity and patriotism to our country as almost the same thing. Disgusting! What if it were another religion in the majority, and we were pressured all the time to follow it, posting relics of it in public places, praying its prayers in large groups. "Allah bless America." Now, I am not knocking other religions, but you know how quickly Christians would get upset over that. I don't blame people of other religions (or atheists) getting upset over what is going on now. I would too!!!! This country was founded on FREEDOM! Jesus said, "My kingdom is not of this world." It's not! I'm glad it's not too... this world sucks! I'm tired of people twisting my faith into something disgusting. I'm tired of people turning away from me when I tell them I'm a Christian. News flash... I do NOT worship Christianity or any church. I worship Jesus Christ. And if you don't? That's fine. I'll still be your friend. I won't thump you into submission with my Bible. Sometimes, I find that I get along with people that DON'T believe what I do, more that people that do.
I realize that i sound pretty self righteous. when is the last time I gave to a homeless person, or someone in need? Really, that's between me and God. (I'll confess- I haven't in a while). It's something I want to work on, but I'm not going to write it in the sky when I do. These people have received their reward. Do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing. Go to a quiet place, and pray to God, who is unseen. Don't pray on the street corners like hypocrites. These people, too, have received their reward.
Darn. There goes the National Day of Prayer and See You at the Pole.
I, for one, do not think that when I die, God is going to say, "Well, Ashley, you didn't forward that email, so....." I think He will ask me about my actions, why I didn't love my brothers and sisters, why I had such a temper problem, why I wasted so many opportunities.
Anyway, not to rip off the author Donald Miller here, but a lot of people want to treat God like a divine slot machine: do your good works, go to church, say your prayers, tithe (especially tithe), and boom: God is going to bless you with this material wealth, or a spouse, or children, or a new job. The list goes on and on. It's like, we don't really care about God or a relationship with Him. We only care about what He can give us. What we put in and what He can give us in return. As if God needs our money!!! The Creator of the universe is concerned with ten percent of my measly salary!!! He can't go on without it!!!
Now, I am NOT saying that you shouldn't give money or tithe. It says so in the Bible. What I AM saying is, maybe that homeless person down the street needs that money (or food) a little more than your church building fund, so your church can add a bowling alley for the youth. Maybe that single mom needs the money a little more than the rich televangelist. Maybe we shouldn't worry so much about forwarding stupid, superstitious emails. Maybe we can also tithe with our time. I don't think God expects us to sit down like accountants and figure this all out.
It just makes me sick to see people profiting off of others being gullible. Screw the giant shiny church building. Give that money to people that need it. Read the story of the rich man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19-31). The thing that pisses me off the most, is that people see this and think, that's what CHRISTIANITY is all about! It's about stealing people's money, bashing gays, supporting war and the death penalty, and people that agree with our narrow minded opinions. Blurring the lines between Church and State is killing us as believers. People want to equate Christianity and patriotism to our country as almost the same thing. Disgusting! What if it were another religion in the majority, and we were pressured all the time to follow it, posting relics of it in public places, praying its prayers in large groups. "Allah bless America." Now, I am not knocking other religions, but you know how quickly Christians would get upset over that. I don't blame people of other religions (or atheists) getting upset over what is going on now. I would too!!!! This country was founded on FREEDOM! Jesus said, "My kingdom is not of this world." It's not! I'm glad it's not too... this world sucks! I'm tired of people twisting my faith into something disgusting. I'm tired of people turning away from me when I tell them I'm a Christian. News flash... I do NOT worship Christianity or any church. I worship Jesus Christ. And if you don't? That's fine. I'll still be your friend. I won't thump you into submission with my Bible. Sometimes, I find that I get along with people that DON'T believe what I do, more that people that do.
I realize that i sound pretty self righteous. when is the last time I gave to a homeless person, or someone in need? Really, that's between me and God. (I'll confess- I haven't in a while). It's something I want to work on, but I'm not going to write it in the sky when I do. These people have received their reward. Do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing. Go to a quiet place, and pray to God, who is unseen. Don't pray on the street corners like hypocrites. These people, too, have received their reward.
Darn. There goes the National Day of Prayer and See You at the Pole.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
I feel like my writing is not nearly as good as is was when I first started writing the fan fiction. It's just gotten boring. It is difficult for even me to read. I'm not sure if I will continue on with it. I really have some great ideas for Nessie down the road, but I'm not so great at the transition. I just want to jump right back into the action! I mean, I am really going to be ramping up the drama. I just need to get there. I don't like getting lost in the mundane details.....
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Update
Hey gang,
It's been a while since I've posted here. Things have been mainly OK. My health has been a lot better. I have been more even tempered and peaceful feeling than I have been in a long time. It feels good to be off of the lamictal.
Lately, I've been devoting my time to writing fan fiction for Twilight (check it out at nessiefanfic.blogspot.com). I've been writing from the perspective of Renesmee, Edward and Bella's daughter. I've been writing about one entry a day. It's a lot of fun and a nice escape from the day to day.
What I'd really like to do is create my own world, write my own story. I've been writing little short stories since I was about seven or eight years old and it's been my life's ambition to have something published. I don't even care about making any money. I just want something tangible, something to show the world and say, This is what I created. My dad and brother are fantastic with painting and sketching. Lindley is also musically inclined. I've always felt that writing is my only creative outlet in which I excel.
I created a fan page on Facebook for my fiction, and so far I only have six members (two are me, haha), so I only have really three fans. Well, my mom and a coworker both said it was really good (but what else would you expect a mom to say?) I guess I'm just seeking validation that I actually have a talent.
I'm praying that I get inspiration to start writing original material.
It's been a while since I've posted here. Things have been mainly OK. My health has been a lot better. I have been more even tempered and peaceful feeling than I have been in a long time. It feels good to be off of the lamictal.
Lately, I've been devoting my time to writing fan fiction for Twilight (check it out at nessiefanfic.blogspot.com). I've been writing from the perspective of Renesmee, Edward and Bella's daughter. I've been writing about one entry a day. It's a lot of fun and a nice escape from the day to day.
What I'd really like to do is create my own world, write my own story. I've been writing little short stories since I was about seven or eight years old and it's been my life's ambition to have something published. I don't even care about making any money. I just want something tangible, something to show the world and say, This is what I created. My dad and brother are fantastic with painting and sketching. Lindley is also musically inclined. I've always felt that writing is my only creative outlet in which I excel.
I created a fan page on Facebook for my fiction, and so far I only have six members (two are me, haha), so I only have really three fans. Well, my mom and a coworker both said it was really good (but what else would you expect a mom to say?) I guess I'm just seeking validation that I actually have a talent.
I'm praying that I get inspiration to start writing original material.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Sometimes I really hate myself and wonder if I have any redeeming qualities whatsoever. I am a selfish, lazy, hateful, vindictive person. Sometimes I wonder I about my salvation. How can someone that has Christ's love within them, behave as I do? What do I really do to contribute to society or help anyone at all, other than myself?
I frighten myself sometimes. I don't get why people love me.
I frighten myself sometimes. I don't get why people love me.
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