"All You Can Ever Learn Is What You Already Know"



Is this how it was intended?
The sunrise over smoke stacks in the Midwest, the beauty of this abandoned factory.
Christmas lights blinking on and off all out of time in what used to be,
your pink house dreams of a middle class America.
I'm trying to believe in you, but all these satellites and shattered dreams are blocking out my view.
Please don't forget who you really are, because nothing really matters when we're gone.

Fell in love with his keno waitress.
They honeymooned in Memphis; they were married by the drive up window.
Trailer parks, neon signs, and an empty box of Lucky Strikes: all used up from the dashboard of America.
I'm trying to believe in you; this world sold its fate for parking lots and drunk sincerity.
Please don't forget who you really are, because nothing really matters when we're -

You'll be saddened to know the train tracks you once walked as a young boy are now nothing but a graveyard.
Please don't forget how small we really are, because nothing really matters when we're gone.


-The Ataris


 

Ok, so I should have probally introduced myself better at the start of this blog. I just realized that people may read this and have no idea what the fuck I'm talking about.

First of all, my name is Nizza and I curse. Alot. I have an intense love for language and speaking and my love for it includes using every word I know - including the "bad" ones.

I don't bother to hold much back. Well, at least not here on WDC. See, in real life people ussually try to dig to find out what really makes me tick. I'm not really one to wear my heart on my sleeve and instead I cover up my true emotions with dirty jokes, insults, and slide remarks. The people who are closest to me have realized that if they want to know how I really feel, open up any one of my 12 huge boxes of worn out notebooks and paper scraps and start reading. Now that I have found WDC, I have found a place where I can wear my heart on my sleeve and be at peace.

My birthday is November 28. I'm a saggitarius.

I have a daughter named Dapheria. You'll read alot about her throughout this blog, my port, and my message posts on various forums. She is my entire life. I'm not one of those people who pawns their kids off on babysitters, grandparents, or nannies. If you do - well that's up to you. But my daughter is at my side 99.9% of the time. When your with someone that much - just about everything you do ends up revolving around them. And that is quite okay with me. Her birthday is June 26.



My current task in real life is trying not to curse. It's bad enough that my daughter's first word was "shit" because I tended to say it alot. I worked hard to stop her from saying it, and I learned to cover up my swear words with alternatives. Instead of "oh, shit!" I've learned to say "oh, man!" Instead of "FUCK!" I've learned to say "CRAP!" and so on. I must admit though that sometimes certain things still slip out and of course, those are the first words she repeats. It's been quite a battle.

I am currently engaged. His name is David and you'll hear me write about him quite often as well. He drives me absolutley crazy sometimes, but I love him. He purposed to me this past Christmas Eve (2007). It wasn't nothing big or showy or anything and it really wasn't a suprise. I mean, like a month before he had asked me what my favorite gemstone was since he knows that I hate diamonds. I told him an emerald since it's my daughter's and his good luck stone. (My daughter and him have the same birthday). He asked me if I like gold or silver better - I told him gold. Well, then a couple days before Christmas, he ran back into the bedroom with this little box in his hand and told the girl I babysit not to let me back in the room. Five minutes later he yelled out of the room asking where the wrapping paper was - like I didn't know what he was doing. Finally on Christmas Eve when all the kids were unwrapping their one gift out of their stocking, he insisted I unwrapped that one. And there it was - a cute little heart cut emerald set in 24k gold. Our wedding date is set for May 27, 2010 and it's going to be a spring themed wedding with the main colors of blue and white (think standing in a huge flower garden on a beautiful spring day - that's the theme of our wedding.)

I have a brindle pug/boston terrier named Loki. We rescued him from the animal shelter back in November. He was kind of like my birthday present to myself. I also have a blue nose spotted pitbull named Mysty, although she currently lives on the farm with my mother because there are rules about what kind of dogs you can have here where I live. She is the most amazing dog I have ever met though. She the type of dog who you never need to put on a leash. She is very loyal and obediant and so well behaved. Seven years ago my mom rescued her from a puppy mill right as they were getting ready to put a bullet in her head because she wasn't having any more pups. She was skinny and malnourished from the constant litters and lack of care. As soon as we got her, we took her to the vet who said she would never be able to have puppies again - so we didn't bother getting her fixed. Well, 3 weeks ago we found outthat sure enough she was pregnant and now we have 5 new little pups. They're all chocolate brown with different white markings on their chest and stomaches. Four girls - one boy. Their names are (in order of first born to last born) Deuteronomy (who we call Doodle), Goliath (as in David and Goliath... lol), Tickle (my daughter named her), Naomi, and Maya (who was originally named Malachi until we realized he was really a she). They were born on Friday the 13th and since then they have already tripled in size. We think the father is either a dobberman or a Great Dane. Currently, all the dogs are staying at my house.

My mom and I are really close. I am an only child (well, the only child of my mother) so our relationship has been very interesting. In my elementry school days she was the picture perfect mother. We lived on a 215 acre farm, we got up and milked the cows everyday before breakfast, she cooked three meals a day, she took care of me and my aging father, and I got just about everything I wanted. When my father died though, Mom hit a horrible stage of depression and suddenly I had to learn to raise myself. I made alot of mistakes and ended up going through alot of fucked up shit. By the time I was a pre-teen, my mom was no longer like a mom but more like a friend. Back then I enjoyed it but now as an adult I realize that the last thing I needed back then was another friend. I needed a mother more than anything, and she just wasn't a mother. We went to bars together, she bought me alcohol, we'd stay out all hours of the night, and most of the time she wasn't home. I guess she had hit a mid-life crisis or something because she was living more wild than I was. And I kept making alot of mistakes forcing me to go through alot of real fucked up shit. As a teenager, my mom hated me. I stole her money, her drugs, and her alcohol. I was barely ever home and I barely graduated high school simply because of never going. So, right after I graduated she kicked me out. We didn't speak for 2 years after that. As a matter of fact we didn't speak until a week before my 20th birthday when I found out I was pregnant. Now, we still kind of walk on eggshells and we still have alot of issues with each other, but honestly I don't know where I'd be without her. If you want to know more about our relationship check out "Letters To My Mother" .

My father passed away when I was 8. I was his youngest child. you can read more about that here : "When I Was 8..." .

I have a history of drug addiction, alcohol problems, and self mutilation. I do suffer from Bipolar disorder and I have spent a good deal of time locked up in mental hospitals while I was a teenager. I know that these issues are things that will always be a part of me. Bipolar disorder is uncurable. So, I know I will always be a little crazy. I did alot of drugs as a teenager. And I did alot of drugs as a young adult. It wasn't until I found out I was pregnant with my daughter that I stopped. I still suffer from the side effects - Tylenol and Advil are as good as Skittles to me, my tolerance to drugs is incredibly high. I still get yearnings for certain drugs - Extasy being the worst. I break out in sweats and get cottonmouth and get real edgy when the urges are real bad. I still take perscription pills that aren't perscribed to me but not on a regular basis. Like, right now I'm having a wisdom tooth problem but oragel makes me gag and over-the-counter pain releivers just don't work so I'm taking pretty much any perscription pain reliever I can find. But, as soon as the tooth stops hurting I won't take them anymore. I like Zanex alot, too and I was once perscibed to them when I was still going to the therapist. So whenever stress levels get real high, I find some. Just don't look at me as some pill-popping phyco, lol. Times like these come only a few times a year.

As for self mutilation, well that's a constant everyday battle. It's probally the biggest internal battle I've ever had to fight. I'm getting through though.

I love professional wrestling. Well, independant professional wrestling. Growing up I was real into WWF and dreamt of going to Al Snow's wrestling school in Lima, Oh. By the time I got to be old enough to go, I was too heavy into drugs to care. Just another thing that lifestyle took away from me. But now, my mother and I sponsor local independant professional wrestling. It's a big deal in our house hold.

I was inspired to begin writing in the 5th grade. My teacher at the time was Marc Harshman. He is a childrens book author and is pretty well known around here. If you have kids - I suggest looking up his books. I sure loved them when I was little... hell I still do. Anyway, I have been writing all of my life. My mom jokes that I came out of her stomache asking for a pen and paper. But I never knew I actually COULD write until Mr. Harshman. I haven't stopped since.

hmmm, well I'm going to go to bed now but I will continue this sometime tommorow.



-Nizza




































 

We got into another fight today. He started yelling about how he doesn't want to pay child support. I started yelling about how he should have kept his dick in his pants. He said he wanted to have another baby with me someday once he doesn't have to pay child support for his other 3 kids. I told him that if I got pregnant by him, I'd get an abortion. He said he wanted to run away to New York and live there because he's too stressed out. I told him I didn't care if he killed himself. I told him I didn't care. He fed me Perkicettes and I shut up.

Sometimes I think this all would be so much easier alone. But then I remember that the only reason my bills are paid, we have food in the house, I have cable, internet and phone is all because of him. I remember how much I have invested in him. I remember that regardless of his occasional lack of responsibility - I still love him. I remember that he feeds me pills when I need them. And boy, do I need them.




-Nizza



 

Today is Friday June 20. I have exactly $.39 to my name. I am out of cigarettes, beer, and pain killers. In 6 days is my daughter's 2nd birthday. I don't even have the money to order a cake. In 5 days my fiance's oldest girls will be arriving. The house isn't even near clean.

Most normal adults have 36 teeth in their mouth. I have 42. The newest one began comming in a month or so ago, and really didn't give me any problems at all - until now. Three days ago it began to push the rest of the way through, but there is a nice big flap of gum-tissue trying to hold the tooth back. The constant taste of blood sustains me since the pain prevents me from eating. With no health insurance and no money, pain relievers are far to few. Around my town, it's not hard to buy Vicodin or Percs or even Morphein from off the street - but being as broke as I am I can't even afford a $2 pill. So I beg them off my mom and her boyfriend and she controls how many she'll give me at once. Yeah, I have a history of drug abuse - which is why Tylenol and Advil are nothing but Skittles to me. And, yeah, if Mom gave me a whole bottle of pain killers - I'd probally take them all within a day. But for once, I'm not trying to catch a buzz... I just want to be able to masticate!!!

David's off work for 2 days. And what is he doing? Eating everything in the house. It's his kids that are comming down, not mine but does he help me clean? Nope, just sits on the futon and eats... One day I think he may explode.

I love kids. I really do. But honestly, I'm begining to resent him for not keeping his dick in his pants when he was younger. It seems like I'm the only one suffering from the lack of condoms in his past. When the court papers come in for another custody hearing - I'm the one who has to read them to him, explain them to him, fill them out, then dress him for the court date and make sure all his paperwork is organized. I'm the one who has to stay on his ass to call his kids. I'm the one his baby's mamas call to bitch to, complain to, and yell at. When his kids come down here I'm the one who has to make sure they all have clean clothes, clean blankets, baths, things to keep them entertained, meals, their teeth brushed, their hair done and so on. I'm the one who is up with them because they're used to waking up at 6am. I'm the one who never gets enough sleep because they don't take naps at home so they refuse to take naps here. I'm the one still watching them while everyone else gets to take a nap. And what is David doing? Sleeping and eating and taking them to Dairy Queen so he looks like the super-hero. When they leave, who is left cleaning up the mess? Me. And in 5 days, they'll be back.

I literally ripped hair out of my head today. I guess it's no secret that I am a self-mutilater. I am a self-mutilater in the way that an alcoholic will forever be an alcoholic. When I was in the 5th grade, I would vomit everytime I was stressed out or upset or frustrated or depressed. It wasn't a binge-and-purge bulemic type thing, but a "I don't know what to do with these emotions so I'm going to try to puke them out" type thing. By eighth grade I was driving ball point pens into exposed flesh and ripping open the skin until little blood rivers appeared. By senior year of high school, I hid my scars under pants. The few who saw my legs would stare with their mouths wide open until I covered myself back up. I think that was one of the reasons I wouldn't have sex unless I was shit-faced drunk. I didn't care what their reactions were to my scars when I was plastered. Anyway, the day I found out I was pregnant, I stopped. I didn't want my child looking at me one day and asking "Mommy, why do you have so many boo-boos?" That was over 2 years ago and the scars haven't gone away and I still get urges... horrible urges. Like an alcoholic who has been through treatments and then opens the cabinets to find 20 different kinds of liquor - that's what it's like for me when I open the knife drawer in my kitchen. It's a constant battle. Worst part is that I'm begining to realize that I'm filling that need with other forms of self-mutilation. Like running into the bathroom today when I felt the tears from all the stress. I locked my hands in my hair and pulled until my hair came right out. It made the tears stop. I brushed my hair over the bald spots so no one will know - same as when I'd cover the scars by wearing only pants. I guess I am what I am, as much as I may hate it.

I guess it's time to get back to cleaning. Only EVERYTHING left to do...