I tire of these days. 
These days I cannot hear your voice.
Or feel your face. Or breath. Or hands slip into mine. 
These days I cannot joke with you how stupid you are.
Or I am. Or they are. Or that is.
These days I cannot kick you.
Or punch you. Or slap you. Or hug you. 
Or snuggle up to when it gets too cold at night. Or roll away from when it's too warm. 

I say all the time that I can never tell whether the days fly by or drag on. Right now, it's dragging. Right now, as I contemplate whether or not I should write again despite having not sent the one I wrote nor receiving another since the first. As October is starting to peek its head around the corner, I realize just how much these next few weeks could take a major toll on me. If I lose focus, I could fail myself. If these days drag on, I could lose focus. If I lose faith, these days could drag on. But I could never lose faith — I know this. I could never. It's an injustice of all sorts. These are all hypothetical, really. I'm just babbling, as per usual.

I'm just ridiculously tired of people — not because they are around me but the exact opposite —, myself and this situation. Ugh. And then sometimes you realize that you're carrying on just fine without certain people, which is something I've always known. It's just saddening because you end up staring at the ceiling that they're not going to call. 

Anyway, it's not that I don't care nor do I care too much. But I'm rather indifferent to the whole ordeal. All I ever need is Him...and sometimes him...but that's mainly because I always start feeling like a psycho when I'm talking to the sky. With the boy comes that physical, human reassurance that it's okay to sound a little crazy. But that's the cool thing: it's a crazy kind of love. Too good to be true. And despite the crazy, I refuse to love You any less. 

I pray that these days do not drag on and that they will be as productive as they can. I pray that he will not see another injury and that You find it in Your will to see him through OSUT. And I pray that You will hold us all together, as You oh so patiently always have. 

Much love.

-- ZelleZ

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been sitting right smack dab in the middle of it. In my Women and Gender Studies class, I told my classmates that the line never existed for me. I never cared that certain toys were specified for girls and others were for boys. I had baby dolls and cookings sets as well as toy swords and dragons. Mulan was my favorite Disney movie because of how badass she was; seriously, I had the books, the toys, the casette tapes, everything. 

I was always the girl in my family who always teamed up with my brother and boy cousin during games versus my sisters and girl cousin. I was always the girl in kindergarten who wore cotton dresses and kicked around in the dirt with the boys. I was the girl in middle school whose favorite color was pink and got in trouble for badly bruising the guys I hung out with. I was the girl in high school who being not unattractive scored all the dirty looks from other girls who got unnecessarily jealous over all the guys I was never stealing. 

I’ll admit, I’m such a girl sometimes. I’ll be a fairy princess. I like to romanticize things. I dream of the fancy wedding day and like things that sparkle; yes, I love diamonds. I love dresses and bracelets. I play with make up when I feel like a little color on my face. Sometimes, my best friend calls me “mom”. I bake at odd hours whenever I’m distraught. I like my hair long so I can play with it, as well as it making me feel pretty. 

But holy crap, I’ve got such a penis a vast majority of the time. I don’t act like a lady. I like wearing pants so I can spread my legs when I sit. I fart loud and proud and pick my nose when I’ve got a boogie. I’ve had the dirtiest mind possibly possible, so much that people have challenged me to turn random words and phrases into something dirty. I am THE loudest whenever I’m watching football. I make a pretty awesome wide receiver when playing football — even with my glasses off, mind you. A bunch of my friends call me “bro”. I’ve been no-homo’d. I've got pride like you've no idea and the temper of a testosterone-induced angry buff douchebag. 

I’ve just never liked hanging out with girls and I HATE being excluded from the guys. And the thing is that I don’t necessarily care what gender I’m classified as. I’m just…me, naw mean?

I wonder all the time why the gender line came to be and why certain things are stamped with “girl” or “boy” all over. Reading this book helps.

Oh, and a prime reason I hate having girl parts down below is that when it itches, people will think you’re a slut for scratching it. That needs to be rectified.

-- ZelleZ

...when every time any friend of mine freaked the fuck out over anything, s/he would instantly give me a call, text me or message me on whatever social networking site that was in. I was known for telling people bluntly and straight as a sword how life works and what I thought was the best way to work with it. I knew everything that was going on in the grapevine because everyone came to me about it. I was once the go-to gal for info and for help — the kind of shit that I threw at people was high quality apparently. One of my friends told me that the reason she loves talking to me about her problems was because I tell her how it is; I don't baby her but I don't tear her apart either. 

And now, suddenly I'm wondering why no one calls me anymore. And no one texts me anymore. Or shoots me a facebook message. For when they need to talk, when they're feeling at their lowest. It's like I've lost my zing or something. I'm just as unsought-out as my boyfriend who's not even here. How is that possible?

I've found myself relying on myself and taking care of myself and consoling myself. And it's not even about me...it's about the fact that it's like people don't need me. Like all of a sudden, they've found themselves outsourcing to other places, as if what I have to say is no longer good enough. And all of a sudden, I have to reach out to people if I feel like they need to talk. I just don't understand. Did I do something wrong?

I know that I've been focusing on myself a lot but it gets lonely in my head. I've been trying to better myself as an individual and as a child of God — at least before the random halt in which I entered the black hole. Sure, I haven't really been planning any outings but...I don't know. Maybe it's always been like this and it's never been so prominent? I have no idea. My significance for people is seemingly declining all of a sudden. 

And to be honest, I really don't think ya'll are too busy for me. But whatever, sorry for thinking like this then. 

-- ZelleZ

Started May 15, 2012

The reason this took so long is because I lost passion for this. And for a while, I thought it was because I thought I'd made a horrible decision that screwed up my life. And then something sparked in me tonight (despite the misery of a different party, sorry, I'm glad for this) that made me realize it was the opposite of that. I just got tired of defending myself. I got tired of defending this. And especially it's hard explaining the reason that I stayed I hadn't realized and hadn't come about until recently. 

"It's interesting...how I realize that fourteen, only four years ago, was pretty young. And that even one year ago, at the age of sixteen, I considered myself pretty young. And how one year from now, I will once again consider myself young, and maybe I'll regret something that I am doing or am about to do during the year." [1]

And later that year....I did something that I never thought that I'd do. Something that completely one-eighty'd my goals of existence.

"...and this wouldn't have happened" /gestures at the two of us
"And I wouldn't be here." /wide eyes "Did I just say that?"
"Yes, you did."
"Haha. Oh snap."
"I know. You like to deny it but I know."
"It's not that I deny it...I just don't...talk about it....were you...upset about it?"
"Yup. I was really fucking pissed at you. Somewhere out in the jungle, there is a broken tree."

While we were cleaning up and out my room, Fernan was looking through all the college books and brochures that I have. We talked and pointed out schools that I wanted to go to, got accepted to and generally, could have gone to. And he talked about how he got into schools that he just could not afford and ended staying home.

"The thing is...you could have afforded it! But you didn't take it! I couldn't afford it!"
"Ha. Yeah, the girl with literally the world at her feet and she didn't want it."
"If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't have done it." 

And now I've finished up summer number two in which I stayed on the island, starting my second year at the university. Of course, this time my love was not here — only the good Lord knows when he will be home. 

But it's just that — I'm home. After the fighting. The prideful arguments. After me refusing for years to stay home. After spending nights and hours in the library scouting schools and scholarships. Figuring out graduation rates, acceptance rates, tuition rates, rooming prices and diversity. Wrote essays and started piecing together portfolios in order to leave. 

Then one day, there was this boy. He took me out one moonlight night and held me close. Flash forward to the kiss and I was sold. It took me two months to admit it before the decision was made — and he already figured beforehand.

"I think we're kind of silly for doing that."
"I think you're very silly for staying for a guy who just walked into your life. 'Who IS this guy?'"
"That still perplexes me. Because I wouldn't have stayed for anyone."

How the fuck that happened perplexes me. 

But here's the wide difference between me then and me now. When the plan was for me to leave: I was all me. I didn't give a flying fuck who or what came across me. I was going to do everything I fucking could to get my ass off this island to do what I needed to do to become another artist. I was going to mesmerize audiences in my works of intrigue and deep thought. I was going to mold my viewers into the people that I wanted them to become, or at least try. I wanted to be a free spirit. Live a little, love a little and laugh a lot. And there was no one and nothing in the world that could have stopped me. 

And one day, there was.

So what's the difference between younger Ruzelle and the one who I've been as of recent? Well, younger Ruzelle doesn't have wisdom teeth making her head pulsate with so much pressure. Younger Ruzelle fended for herself. Of course, she worked for a big picture but she could not have cared less what other people wanted. She didn't care about how other people would feel if she left. She didn't care about the amount of money that would've needed to be spent in order for her to leave. She didn't care about all the sad looks she would get when people would talk about it. And she sure as hell didn't care about any guy who possibly thought he could be an obstacle. 

"I remember how it feels to look technically at yourself and see what is wrong.
To see that the pieces don't feel so comfortably after all.
And I realized....that yes, no one is perfect and there is no two people meant to perfectly fit together.
Because you have to shape yourself to fit perfectly with the other.
Because you must be willing to sacrifice and not necessarily mold yourself around the other, but be able to sit comfortably with each other.
It's difficult but well worth it and I am still working toward that goal" [2]

The funny thing was that he and I work so nicely together. Yes, we have our moments but we're amazing together and it took almost no effort for us to start off. I found someone who fits perfectly to my shape — no molding needed in any way. The reason this is surreal is because there's no way it could be so perfect, despite our share of differences and bumps. We have a lot to learn about life and about love and about relationships but we never had to learn about and how to be with each other. For anyone who believes in "the one", this must be it. Whatever we go through, I only pray that we have enough faith in each other, our love and in Him to be able to get through it. Because we're pretty much asking for it.

"When you were telling me that you couldn't handle it, I think you kind of asked for it you know?"
"Yeah, well shit happens for a reason."

Yes it does. For whatever reason, I've found myself here whether it be to bring me closer to Christ, some important duty I'll have here if one exists or to become a permanent part of the boyfriend's life...or all of the above. And maybe that answer isn't too clear or maybe it won't be what I like to think that it is but whatever it is, I've no doubt that I won't regret it at the end of this life the way I don't regret it now. 

Maybe we will be everything we say
Maybe all that we dream will fade to gray
Either way, I will stay
With you

Lastly (but never leastly), I'm certain that God played His role here. Because the truth is that somehow those deadlines passed without my care as if something was keeping me here — before the fact. Perhaps it was Him. And I remember saying that everything was as if He wanted this, as if He made everything that happen happen just for the result that we would be together — if not for anything and everything that wouldn't have happened. [3] He's looking at the bigger picture and no matter how many of my [and our] own plans fall apart, I have to remember that His will always be better. 

"Trust in the Lord with all thine heart,
And lean not unto thine own understanding;
In all thy ways acknowledge Him,
And He shall direct thy paths." [Proverbs 3:5-6, KJV]

It's almost as if I was following Him without realizing — if it could possibly work that way; I'm certain that He's been working in my heart anyway. I mean, Dallas might've meant job, family, awesome school but it also meant a faith I could never put my whole heart into. 

"So another reason I feel so blessed to have you in my life is because...[our relationship inadvertently lead to a better life in Christ]"

-- ZelleZ

Blogs referred to:

[1.] http://jello-girl42.xanga.com/735572617/dont-know-when-ill-be-back-again/

[2.] http://jello-girl42.xanga.com/732604791/i-never-wiped-my-lips-with-a-napkin-and-saw-salmon-stains-before/

[3.] http://jello-girl42.xanga.com/739158782/two-years-ago-today-i-was-waltzing-into-chamorro-class/

Waking up at one o'clock — sheesh, I gotta stop doing that. Making avocado dressing, cleaning up the dishes and putting them away. Picking up the sissy. Sitting the baby. Irritatingly responding to an auntie (agh, Mama -.-"). Simmed to start a legacy. Talking to an uncle. Trash out for the trashguys. Reading for a Father. Could be considered uneventful, depending on one's way of looking at it. Generally, I find it semi-productive only because nothing around the house has been done, really. 

I told her it'd be a good week. I could just feel it in my bones and not necessarily because the very first few minutes of Sunday started with a phone call....but we did only talk about shoes. -.-" Sunday was nice because I got to enjoy it with pretty much everyone I hold the closest to my heart — despite one being over seas via telephone. But Monday's ending on a good note.

I just can never help but be amazed when I feel myself walking toward something that God is telling me I should be. Even something so little as not finishing the chapter I had been reading to venture off into a different book, resulting in an ever so slightly wholer feeling of the heart — if that makes any sense. It's just nice. Thrilling, actually. Big smile on my face. He's so nice. Always. Haha. And I couldn't help but share that little tidbit.

Anyway, things are going swell as always for myself. Why am I so lucky to have that? How in the world could I deserve that?

Aah, I dunno. 

And always, I wish I could do something for those who can't figure out what they need. And for some, I could never figure out a subtle or...appropriate way to express how much one needs Him. 

I've been thinking about my brother a lot lately. Which is why I brought him up the other day, wondering what he's been up to...commenting on how I feel like he's just going downhill. Because that's what I feel like. Like as fantastic as his life seems, it just isn't good enough and he's just wasting away the days. Sigh. You know, I've been praying for him since I was sixteen? On a regular basis, I'd keep him in my thoughts hoping that one day he'll figure it out. That he won't be so harsh to turn the idea down of a Father. That one day he'll hear Him calling and won't turn Him away. I just figure he'd be happier, rather than wasting his time trying to fill that void with stupid antics and ignorant bliss.

Who wouldn't be, you know? I've just always had that itty bitty hope that one day, it'll happen and I don't think that hope will ever diminish — no matter what happens.

Anyway, I hope you're doing better Megan. Buck up, ma'am.

-- ZelleZ 

Just another Manic Monday, I wish it was Sunday

Because that was my funday. Or well, yeah. Phone call too early in the morning, bagel, hot tea, church, visit from Bryce, dinner with Beans and Bryce and Lester, Yogurtland, driving around screaming lyrics to Bruno and Bon Jovi and P!nk. But then the clock struck midnight and I found myself completely unable to go to sleep. Why? No idea.

But the night was spend tossing and turning and my head not clear and when I did get some sleep, it didn't last very long. And I ended up waking up twice to find Facebook activity on my boyfriend's timeline (new friends) and absolutely no calls or a reply to the text message in which I tell him that I think he's pretty swell. Flipping awesome. I finally woke up for real, got a bagel, vented to Val and sent a flood of babbling texts to him — which could have been the most ridiculous thing I've ever done since he's left....damn. The very last one was basically an apology for the flood and that we'll talk later and that I love him. Just buggin', I guess. And I know I should know better not to but when I'm that close to having my period and getting no sleep at night and the bible verses can't get this off my mind...well that's just another day of being me. 

So I ended up trying to distract myself being productive and cleaning the house and watching the show that always makes this mood worse for me [HIMYM, weirdly enough] and eating ice cream. And the thing is that I need to stop fretting about this crap because agh, it could get worse and he's been so kind as to always tell me to calm down every single time I freak out...and maybe I'm just reading into the nonexistent fine lines again....but today kind of sucks for me.

And I miss him. And I just want to tell him that I'm sorry for just being a pain all the time even though he always tells me not to worry about it. 

You know, there was always that little part of me that was still angry at him for everything one year ago. And I've long ago let it go but it comes to mind sometimes when I get frustrated. But then I start to frustrate myself when I get like this and a lot of the time I can't even fathom how much of himself it takes to be okay with how neurotic I can get. And I don't think it's okay but that's just for me. I mean, as much as of an asswipe he can be, I know it's not easy dealing with well...the way I get about everything. The amount of times he has coddled me and told me that I need to stop being silly can not be counted. He's such a sweetheart sometimes too so I know it's not exactly fair the way I get...about everything. So, I'm equally an asswipe.

What's wrong with you is good for what's wrong with me
And I think maybe we should stick together
Because in the end....

"We are friends and lovers" 

So after having a not so very good day that included making guacamole that isn't good enough, almost killing Sal and buying ice cream that I probably will barely eat. I ended the day with tacos and Mean Girls, music and a hot bubble bath, and Friends and hot tea. 

"Until next time. I love you."
"You sure?"
"I called you, didn't I?" [Sunday morning]

So much for my agreeing to never doubt it.

You should never have to defend being friends and lovers

-- ZelleZ

P.S. The card I mailed him made him smile so points for me?

And not ten minutes before putting the package contents to where they belong, I opened for the first time the other object which would allow me to see better. Today, I received something I've wanted for so long: my first printed bible. And my heart has done nothing but soar since yesterday and though through technical aspects, my spiritual journey has ended (I never went to all the churches like planned) I know that I've just gotten started. I've been thinking about it seriously for the past couple of weeks and now that I'm here...

Don't stop me now, 'cause I'm having such a good time

I remember being a kid going to church and just wanting to go home but at the same time feeling guilty that I wasn't grasping anything from my attendance. I remember as a kid thinking the most ridiculous things out of the things that my aunties would tell me and my cousins about God. I remember as a kid not believing a lot of the things my cousins believe about God. I remember as a kid loving Jesus so much, understanding that he is significant in my life, and proudly displaying that with all my little stickers praising Him. I remember as a kid wanting to be a child of God, but not knowing how. And I remember as a kid feeling closest to Him when I would kneel and have my one on one's with Him no script or set prayer, as if He were my best friend. And I remember that carrying on to my teen years, reaching out to Him during those times in church and hoping for some guidance to be better for Him. And I will remember how it felt as a young adult to finally be starting out something I couldn't always figure out that I wanted as a kid. 

"I'm so glad you have two birthdays now Ruzelle," says Lauron. 
"Me too."

Since the first day I met her, I knew there was something to be good coming out of her even though my family* doesn't exactly like her personality-wise. Because she understood what I had to say about my faith and she was the first Murphy to ask. And since that very day in April that I had that conversation with mom*, I knew then that this was it. Every day for months I asked for a way to go to Him and though I didn't deserve it, He threw the answer to my face just like that. Every day since I've thanked Him for blessing me with them.

And so I put it off until summer because the terrible person I am didn't want to face my auntie about it, though I know I have to. But the time came and I walked down the aisle to the front and when Pastor Kelley asked me the question, I said yes. And I'm at a little bit of a loss for words so much right now. But nothing has been able to bring my mood down at all the past two days. I am so happy. And so incredibly excited. I remember being scared to start...but it's gone. I know He's with me. I know everything will be okay. And I know with that I'm ready for this.

And I could hear the smile in his voice as he repeatedly asked me "REALLY" when he called this morning. [click] Best monthsary ever. Happy 18 months, my love. Happy my birthday was yesterday to myself. And well, happy everything. 

And once again, I cannot help but feel incredibly blessed. Thank you, Father — for everything.

-- ZelleZ

*I give up. For the longest time, it's just confused me so I give up. "Mom" called me out on my lack of every calling her anything so we went with first names but dad has always called her "mom" when he talks to me, versus mom calling dad by his first name. Ricky calls them mom and dad and calls me sis and agh. And in my head, I keep having slip ups of "mom" "dad" and the first names so...I give. Blog-wise, this is easier. -__-" Also bro's "I'm glad we're in two families together, our physical and spiritual family" thing is another reason for the asterisk. 

Related blogs:

Dear God
"So Coyce said..."
In The City

Christmas and the New Year [tumblr]

Sleep's been an awkward thing for me lately. Sometimes I only dream through the night. Sometimes I'm only half asleep. Most times I have a hard time getting to sleep, which is why I go to bed before 1; I know I'll just lay in bed for maybe an hour and rarely can I even cry myself to sleep lately. And just about all the time, it seems like I can't get enough of it. 

I can show up to school getting any amount of sleep and I will still be tired. I will still take that early noon or after noon nap that I crave for when I'm not home. I will still try to kick everyone out as early as I can at tea time just so I can try and get some sleep. And to everyone, I am always tired. Some days I do nothing but sleep and still get more than enough I need for energy, with no avail — not like getting 12 hours at night is going to make any person less tired anyway. 

But why? Well some days, I just don't want to do anything. I don't want to clean. Aren't hungry enough to eat. And everything and everyone on the planet couldn't keep me interested if they could try. Sleep guarantees at least an hour to six of time that I spend away from it all. Away from stress. The irritation. The sadness. The unclean house. The hormonal teenage sister. The stupid shows that I wish would come off of cable. The lack of food in my belly. The lack of books on my shelf. And the lack of Coyce by my side. Every hour of sleep I get is another hour I get to kill without him.

Every single day I miss him too much is a day I spend in bed not eating, not cleaning, not showered and not missing him because it's all spent asleep. Asleep in the comfy little bed, wrapped in my blankets with the a/c too cold and Carter securely wrapped in my arms. Just hoping that he doesn't appear in my dreams, which is the worst thing in the world to wake up to. 

I miss him. I miss waking up to him snuggled up beside me. I miss falling asleep to his voice on the phone. I miss sleeping knowing he'll be there when I wake up in the morning. Or calling him to my house when I can't seem to get any. 

The different thing about this particular kind of long-distance is the uncertainty. One is not knowing for sure when he's coming home, unlike a lot of other people I know — which is similar to that uncertainty when I didn't know I would have come home in the first place. The other, and the most comparable difference, is the inability to know the next time I can hear from him. Through letter, which basically a one-sided conversation that I have to hold on to until the next time. And through phone call. Even though I get these phone calls every weekend once — twice if I'm lucky — I still have no idea when they will come. Each phone call comes at a different time, usually an odd hour, and on a different day. And when he gets back to actual training, I have to go through each week hoping, NEVER expecting, that I get one. 

I get so envious of all the other long-distancers who get to talk to their SO every or even every other night, through skype or phone or chat. And get to send whatever they want through the mail — the Army has rules about such things with bct. That ability to talk to that person almost whenever they feel like it — or on a schedule. I guess that's what got to me when FJ told me "at least it's not nine months" [which, damnit it will have been because of his fucking fracture]. Because even though it was supposed to be only about 4 months without him, I can't talk to Coyce the way she can talk to Matt while they're apart. Because the Army cannot afford to allow that. And I can't say that I suffer more or that I miss him more or that it hurts more this way, but I can say that the convenience level is a lot lower in the situation.

The interesting thing is that whenever he calls in the middle of the night, every single ounce of energy I never had is there. I laugh too loud, talk too loud and talk a little too much. And the second I hang up the phone, I fall asleep faster than it took for me to get to sleep in the first time — almost instantly. It's just. Easier to get to sleep.

-- ZelleZ

AC running. SVU on. Old sprite sitting there.

And I was looking through chatlogs to find information that I couldn't and instead stumbled upon something from one of the bears. The one who loves to troll me and annoy the crap out of me. And yells out unicornz whenever he sees me. It's from a while ago and he told me that I need to spend more time with my boyfriend and to make sure that I'm persistent about it and to never give up and to never back down and that he'd always be there for us and to not worry about it too much. The very next day we ended up spending together — if I'm not mistaken both parties were going to suggest it? This was the day we went shoe shopping, I think.

Anyway, I guess I felt the need to point it out because I sometimes forget how much these guys can care — this one in specific. It made me smile. 

Thanks, Krizpy Chicken. Haha, for being such an asswipe.

-- ZelleZ 

Watching One Day with Wendy's with my little sister. I'm ready to nap because I'm still tired. The good news that class this morning only consisted of watching films we didn't get to watch last week due to oral presentations. There was one about making Kadon Ayuyu. Nomnomnom. 

At around 330 there was a phone call that took until almost five...and I swear I thought it was only 411. Which evidently it wasn't since the post-couple-poop callback was at 412. 

And good Lord, I don't remember what I was going to write because I'm so flipping tired. But all I know is that I loved the way my heart fluttered with his first words upon my answer. 

...and my mom just called, reminding me everything I need to calmly not be...and calmly as in I have to not try too hard or it'll reverse on me. Dagh.

Anyway, I've got thoughts I might jot down later so that means this blog might come down since there's really nothing on it.

He's so nice. Haha. I like him a lot.

"So we were able to get our phones"
"Aww, good for you" 
"You mean good for you."
"Haha, what?"
"Without my phone I'm fine. I would've been okay. But you...I know how you get."

Lol. Yeah, I like him a lot. He's such a sweetheart. And look at me, being such an asswipe all the time. 

"Unworthy!"
"Shut up."  

-- ZelleZ

What's wrong with you is what's good for what's wrong with me
And I think maybe we should stick together