The Ex

I was Godzilla once. I was mad and crazy and I crushed tiny villages. Well, the tiny village was my ex-boyfriends bedroom. Hmm, I should probably give Ex-Boyfriend a name. How about Ted Bundy? Okay, he wasn't creepy like that. We shall call him....(wow I can only think of explicit words). Ralph? as in "please hold my hair while I ralph in the toilet". Ralph it is.

Okay, Ralph was my high school sweetheart. We met at the end of junior year. I then moved back home to North Carolina and we did a whole year long distance until I moved back to Utah.
Well right before I moved back to Utah I met this return missionary. Months before, he (we shall call him Harry) came home, his family told me that he would be so into me, and we would hit it off and get married. I was SO his type. I took what they said with a grain of salt. I thought they were full of themselves, after all, he was a country boy, I was punk and dating Ralph long distance.

Harry finally got home and we really did hit it off.
We canoed, we horse back rode, we went wake-boarding and went to the Lynard Skynard Reunion concert together. He even kissed me, kind of, for a second I thought a chicken had attacked me.

The day finally came when all of the fun ended, Harry drove me to the airport, I said my goodbyes to the family and off to Utah I went.

My welcome back to Utah wasn't very warm. After my fling with Harry, I couldn't help but feel resentment for being with Ralph. Although it clearly wasn't his fault, I had met someone else. After being back a week, I told Ralph that we should take a break. That after all of that time being apart, I just wasn't sure of things.

I also received a phone call from Harry. He said that after I just left so quickly out of his life, he had to see if something was there. He was already in Tennessee, driving his way out to Utah.

Harry arrived. I had, what was then "the time of my life". It was short and sweet, and I found out how horrible of a kisser he was, but hey, I could look past that (he was a fresh R.M. and I was his first make-out since being home, give him a break)...our chemistry together was undeniable.

After Harry left, Ralph showed up on my doorstep with a bouquet of flowers. He had his fling (kissed another girl) and wanted me back, I was bored so I agreed. Okay. I must say I wasn't that HORRIBLY bored. I really felt obligated to be with Ralph, like I owed him something because he waited a year for me, and we did love each other. I needed to make things work, but I also didn't want to lose touch with Harry.

Well, mine and Harry's phone calls died down. Ralph found out about Harry, Ralph was PISSED! Needless to say things went down hill with Ralph after that.

During the last few months of our relationship during a time I like to call Hell, after we had broken up maybe 5 times a week, it was finally over. Oh yeah and after I basically destroyed his room taking everything I ever gave him and crushed it like the Hulk. I took the t-shirts I had gotten him and ripped them in half. I kid you not! I saw a side of myself that I never knew existed and I was ashamed that he had brought that out of me.
I was sick of the blaming, the one-sided relationship. He acted like, because of my fling with Harry, I had to earn his trust back as if I cheated on him! Sorry, but we were on a break and his little bird lips weren't very innocent then either. I spent many Sundays crying to my church bishop, who was like a father to me, about what was going on. He strongly urged me to end the relationship, but I couldn't, not yet.

Honestly, if I would have known how happy I would be when it was over, I would have done it sooner. It drove me crazy, and a relationship that brings out the worst traits in you is not healthy! The person you are with should bring out all of your good qualities, in my opinion.

After I broke up with Ralph, I started dating my now husband, who has luckily never seen my Godzilla side.

Harry is also married to an amazing woman. I couldn't imagine any girl more perfect for Harry. They also have a darling little girl. I'm glad Harry and I are still friends. I looked up to him back then. He showed me what it was like to be with an R.M. I deserved a young man who held church standards and could teach the gospel. Being a convert, that is important to me. I got Justin.

As far as I know, after Ralph and I broke up he started smoking, drinking, went to a strip club, got tattoos and piercings, fell away from the church and started dating girls that were way too young for him. The last few times that I have heard from Ralph were just drunken phone calls at 2 in the morning, well into a year after Justin and I had started dating. It's been two years, and I really don't know or care what he's up to now. But one thing is for sure..........

I dodged a bullet with that one ladies and gents!

Lost Dog.

I have a stuffed puppy I have had ever since I arrived on this earth. His name is Felicia. I don't know why I named him that, I thought it sounded pretty when I was little and I knew Felicia was apparently a boy. He looked like a boy, duh!

Well I was going to write a lonnnggg post about how he went missing and how I love him and how he still sleeps in the bed with me even though I'm married, but alas! I found him where my husband keeps his shoes. It's been a year since I saw him, and I was afraid I had left him in a hotel room some where because I SERIOUSLY take him everywhere. Justin is snuggling with Felicia right now. I'm glad he doesn't care about our tight nit relationship. I would freak if I ever lost that stuffed puppy.

Just thought you'd all like to know this so it will make my weird meter rise up a notch.

Have a good night.

Val & Felicia BFFFFF's forever.

Octo-Val

I was at work today and one of my residents, Ute Fan, drew me this. She said "here, this is you" and giggled.




Heavens to Betsy, we have a Picasso prodigy on our hands!
I quickly ran to the bathroom, looked in the mirror to make sure nothing had sprung up on my face in the last hour.

Ute fan reassured me that this was me as an Octopus.
I can totally see the resemblance now.

-L.G.

To write or not to write?

Lately I have really enjoyed writing about my experiences. I would continue writing if I knew that what I wrote wouldn't be taken out of context or blown out of proportion.

The thing with me though, is I have gotten over a lot of happenings from my past. They are things I can look at and say that I'm not happy about them, but, they shaped me. Made me the person I am. The person I LOVE that I am. I think in some ways if I could continue writing- it would help inspire others who have been in similar situations. In fact I KNOW I can inspire others. Maybe someday down the road I can.

Healing/Changing/Forgetting is very hard for some people and I forgot that maybe other people hadn't acknowledged those things, rather, shoved them in a corner.

I forget that I am under different circumstances. My healing/changing/forgetting process sped up when I joined The Church, and it's in my nature to make the best of my horrible situations. I'm not at all trying to say I'm "special" or "better", just that I understand that writing about my past may hurt others more than it hurts me, because I have a different understanding and interpretation of life in general.

When I wrote that post about my brother Chubsy, my family's reaction was not negative. They felt that it was bitter-sweet, and my oldest brother was a bit jealous that the post wasn't about him. My brother's are my hero's and not including them in my writing would be robbery. I want to write about our hardships together, it is what has bound us. We always, always have each other.

I deleted the post (Chubsy Ubsy Partner in Crime) because I feel that it may be contributing to some unnecessary drama in the family at the moment. Luckily it isn't THE drama, because I would feel bad if I had caused that.

I will just wait till things smooth over. Then hopefully get back to the scheduled programming!
Until then, I will stick to writing about me, and me only. Selfish but entertaining right?

I love writing,
-The L.G.

Art Show Questionables. Your Thoughts?

I would have never thought about entering any of my photos into an art show, but my teacher really loved the photo of the head sculpture and talked me into it. I would like to know your thoughts though. Which is your favorite? These are all film photos that I developed myself.

My love for film is unconditional.
Film can borrow my clothes and never return them.
Film can have extra servings of dessert and never look fat.
Film can have an affair with my husband, yet, I will still love film.

P.S. Be patient if the files take a while to load. Sorry : )

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#4


This one is just for fun.


Love, Valen

Side Show Val.

I think our teacher's affect us a lot as individuals as we are growing up. I mean, they are pretty much our parental figures for half of the day from age 5 years up to 18. We would be robbing them if we said we didn't learn a thing from them wouldn't we?

In kindergarten I LOVED my teachers. I always got in to trouble, always. But, I still felt love when I was around them. Even though Miss Kirk took me to the principal's office for putting sand down Amy's pants, still there was love. Even though I poked Rob in the eyes, still there was love. They showed me mercy.

In first grade I had Mrs. Miller. She hid candy in the cupboards. I always found it. I think she liked me okay, but I always talked with my hands in my mouth. She yelled at me one day to STOP biting my nails. It startled me.

I don't remember second grade all too well. The kid that sat next to me ate all of the glue. He'd squirt a huge white glob out onto his tongue and stick it out at me, as if to say "Ha ha I ate the glue, none for you". As if I was supposed to be jealous?! Idiot, I thought.

I'm pretty sure that was the year that I taught a little girl on the bus how to cuss. I beat up a boy on the play ground and the kids all cheered. I told Rob it was over because he wouldn't dance with me (even though the fact that we were "together" was news to him). I danced in my underwear with my best friends to a Michael Jackson song at my first big sleepover. Oh and Chubsy Ubsy puked in a kids jacket hood on the bus....poor kid.

In third grade I only remember being yelled at by Mrs. White. She looked like a witch. She dug her nails into my skin and jerked me around when I wouldn't do what I was told. One day I overdosed myself on Ritalin so I could behave better for her.

In fourth grade I remember Mrs. Beck throwing my desk to the ground because it was messy. I had never experienced so much rage from a teacher. I cried as she threw all of my things in the trash. So what? I'm a pack rat.

In fifth grade I was jealous of all of the other girls because Mr. Williams payed them lots of attention. He would strum on his guitar and add one of the girl's names to the song. Sometimes he would let them sit on his lap. I was a bad student, always talking, never really listened even when I tried.


So needless to say, not even my teachers could handle or wanted to handle me. I blame it on my A.D.D.

A word of advice for those dealing with someone who has been diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder: You may want to be prepared to have a live Circus on hand at any given moment. These days it's probably the only thing that could keep my attention long enough.

But you should be aware that: Grades will suffer, we will fidget, bite our nails, tap our feet and be extremely unorganized and messy. We have selective hearing and can't focus on any given thing or multi-task. We also start many hobbies and projects and never finish. It's not that we don't have time to finish projects, we just lose interest quickly. We get bored easily with jobs and relationships.

Though I think relationships are what I have cherished most and have had luck keeping. There is hope after all. I proved the scientists wrong. HA!


What have I learned?
Teacher's aren't tough, and you never realize they are humans until you are older. I'm sure they showed me as much patience as they could bare.



This is the story of my life!

Love,
L.G.

Defeated.

Today was a hard day. I accepted defeat. I tried really hard to push to the end, but not hard enough.

I am in a drawing class that is required for graduation but doesn't really help me with my goal to be a photographer. This is an intro class, so I went in thinking it would be no big deal. The teacher would see that I could give it my all and pass me on effort alone. Every assignment that I have handed in so far has been given back to me with red scribbles saying "come on Val, you can do this"...."show me you know this" "fix" or "redo". I re-did all of my assignments and handed them back in last week. Still not good enough. He didn't change any of my grades because I still couldn't draw a perfect ellipse or my perspective drawings weren't what he was looking for. My teacher does not give you a grade UNLESS you can do it right. Almost 2 months in and I am still failing.

My frustration is this: How is it that a teacher expects you to magically learn to draw one day when everyone else that is in that class is there to draw for a living, they have a gift that they have been taming since they were young. HOW IN THE WORLD IS THIS AN INTRO CLASS? Don't you think this class should be at a learning level where even the crappiest of crap can do this? OR am I really that stupid?

I feel stupid.

I left in the middle of class today not able to hold back the tears. I tried, I really did. Needless to say, I have decided to drop the class. I will try again another day in the future, with a different teacher. I just can't let this hurt my GPA. I won't waste my time and lose what sanity I have left from this forsaken class.

I hate this.

-L.G.