I loved my highschool days back in Kentucky. We did not have cell phones or Ipods. We might have brought our big boom box cd player to school once or twice. We were about 89 kids in the class of 89. The year of Senior year we all tried to be better to one another. It seems just like yesterday. We had all gotten our class rings, we had raised money to go to Floridia. We worked after school many of us on after school programs from mopping floors to sorting books for the libary. People were breaking up who had been together forever and people were hooking up who had never even spoken to each other before.We spent our days on the baseball field watching the boys train for upcoming games. I had my eyes on David. Tall, dark and gangly.I had been in love with him since freshman year, I had even snuck into the principal’s office (My mom was the custodian) to read his file many times after school. I would go and read his file where I found out he had lost his mommy to cancer and look at his grades since kindergarten. I wrote him love poems which he ripped to shreds at my locker.I had gotten the principal to especially get me the locker next to David’s. I tried everything to get him to care. If I wasn’t in love with David I was forever in love with Chris. Chris was my guy since first grade. He was blonde and shorter than me and we were the class clowns. When you put a bunch of teens on a greyhound bus who haven’t been past the state line you can imagine what fun…We were heading out to Florida from Kentucky. The morning we were leaving I had a double ear infection and was loaded down with a white paper bag full of ear drops and antibiotics.David was on the bus, Chris and my then friend Melody. We had portable tape players (walkmans) the music was Guns and Roses, Bon Jovi, Deff Lepord, Martika. I sat near Chris and every now and then we would aggravate at each other and play thumb wars and other immature things. David was in the back with his buddies. The popular kids were with thier gang everyone seemed to be spread out. The thing was we had all seemed to have gotten closer yet on the bus the click thing was going on.I was there, I don’t know what I was doing besides looking at David and playing with Chris I wish I could remember more. I recall our principal telling us to “Behave” everytime we stopped to take a break. I would always get bakc on the bus with a candy bar and a diet coke. We reached Florida and the bright lights from hotels were wild for us. We stood up to peer out at the the town of Orlando. When we got to our hotel we all listened about no guys in our rooms, no girls in the guys rooms.They could come in but have to leave the door open and there was a ten minute limit. TBC

DO you have a family that never see your dreams? DO you have a family that is unsupportive and see you as an eternal child? Can you imagine you can’t call your mother and have a heart to heart talk because she has had years of depression and if she ends up in the hospital again family will “blame” you for sharing your burdens with of all people your mom..Imagine your grandmother, always reading the bible and when you call and say you have a problem she tells you you will go to hell? Imagine your brother is a big guy like a wrestler and he will forever be your little brother, he is 11 months younger than you, but he can not count money or tie his shoes, he cries easily? That is my brother. Imagine your uncle a sweet, stubborn man who won’t forgive people, that if you ever pissed him off he will never speak to you again. You watch as cousins get disowned by the same man you have loved all your life, he won’t listen, he won’t forgive. This is my uncle.My family is this way and I love them, but I feel so lost when I can not talk to them. If I do talk they run and tell people in the family I have no contact with complete “stories” about me and when I get home to Kentucky people veiw me like the lady with a bag on her face..I try to stay upbeat, I try not to cry when I get a letter from my mom saying how “ashamed” she is that I would consider ever leaving my realationship and try to find a new life. No one in my family ever says, “Honey, what is in your heart?” They don’t ask. It is all the same, talking around, talking over..if they talk too its to tell you how “wrong” you are about your life and you just want to cry. Sometimes, I want to put myself up for adoption. I wonder who would want me. I don’t fit in with my family, I am creative and witty and they look at me as if I am a strange bird from an unknown planet. When I was a little girl, my mom used to smile at me when I wrapped myself up in a curtian and pretended to be a princess. NOW, when I put on my Marilyn Monroe wig and sing for my kids she looked down as if she wanted me locked away in a wacky ward.I would love to hear your stories of feeling as if you “don’t belong” with your kin folk like me margo

I have often thought about what’s it like to be me…sometimes, I don’t like the way I am. I am too dramatic and I don’t worry about bills like I should or worry if the kids have new shoes I am taking photos and writing and daydreaming and scheming. I have sat down and cried and felt a terrible loss like there has to be more than me than this. Why do I love people so deeply? Why do I call psychics (I used to) When I have a good gut instinct.Why do I feel so un-apart from these soccer moms in my neighborhood? Why do I like to wear wigs and jewelry and dance and take photos for hours. This is me. I don’t want to be called eccentric. They seem to call creative people eccentric a lot. I would like to be unique yes. I spent my 20s in the house just letting life pass me by due to the fact I had severe panic and was trying to be a mom with that disorder. I had female problems that lead to a hysterectomy. I lost so much time that now I am always gulping in air like a fish trying to stay alive as the fisherman tries to capture it.I try to write in this blog things that may be of interest yet try not to make it my diary. What it is like to be me…well some of it is in this blog the rest is tucked away inside my soul.
m

Since this blog has a lot to do with online love and friendship I am looking for stories of online love. If you would like to share your story please send me a note here and lets share your story Margo

Sometimes, I get tired and fed up. I mean whats it like to care about someone thousands of miles away not knowing if you have a real chance to meet them in “real time”. I go from knowing I have a friend, to being in love, to feeling rejected, unwanted and confused. Then like a drowning person I reach my hands up out of the water and gasp for air saying…”Friendship, be my friend again.” I mean this blog was made by his hands. I come here and think Moudi made this for me..to keep me busy so I wouldn’t flirt with guys online when he was in college. Now, I am trying to go see him. I have asked a friend to go with me. I decided that he must know me in real life the woman he said he loved, the woman he has also said “there is no us.” I just want to see him. I am that kind of person I am damn stubborn. There are worries now, what if I can’t stand him.What if he can’t stand me. What if we have a great chemistry and I try to smooch him? What if ..what if…The thing is online your what ifs is all you got. I told myself after a month of crying when we had another cyber love break up that I had enough I was going to go see him. I told him that. We are talking again, but in the back of my mind I am scared I am pushing myself on him when there was a time the push and pull was a mutual thing.I play that song by Adele “Chasing Pavements” a lot now. I will try to upload that song. Its very much how I feel. I will chase my Arabian Knight on the pavement on real dirt…I hope so ..:)