Happy Birthday: stating the good.

You want the good? And to be content...
Chris just called me, at dead up midnight, and sang to me; "Happy birthday, gorgeous"
First person to do that- either sing or call me gorgeous, let alone both.
There's good.

I am 17. Actually, I won't truly be until 3pm today.
Who cares. Its Thursday, September 29 and my birthday. And I am 17.

Pacman of Affection

Have you ever heard the phrase "you wouldn't know happiness if it slapped you up side the head"? I think there is more truth in that, as it pertains to me, than I would care to admit.
But I will admit it anyway.
So I know this guy who would compliment me for hours if I let him. Yet that, those words, don't ever make it up here.
Its like I beg and beg for the slightest sign of affection and then, when it comes, instead of reacting to its existence with the same degree of emotion I did it's absence, I just sort of aknowledge it.
Yes, I am pleased. Of course! I am not entirely callous.
But the feeling is muted, stunted, or perhaps just fleeting.
And its like fucking pacman. I swear, I am totally fucked up.
Its like Pacman because I gobble up the affection- which is the point, right?- and somewhere the points register, but I just move on, mouth still open, towards the next one...
That's not quite true. But I don't think I exude the amount of enthusiasm I should when I receive what I ask for.
I don't think I am thankful enough.
There.
I get things and I'm like "yup, there it is. that's good." and occasionally say "very good" but... it is much easier to feel empty than full.
And/Or I want the challenge- the next, getting to, achieving, the NEXT... ah, its such an empty race. When you keep picking roses just to see how many you can pick, yet you never enjoy the scent or beauty of any of them.
That is deeply a shame if ithat's the case.
Then, also, I must question why I do not apply my want of challenge to my academics- more specifically, my geometry and P.E.
Why, if I am so unappreciative of my current mode in relationships, am I so accepting of my other, more substantial, shortcomings?
Oh, because when its too difficult, we can just lay down and die. Starve to death just to make a mark.
But its almost my birthday, fascinating because it is a date, and I won't bring it in by thrashing myself.
Goodnight

The Eagles: Seven Bridges Road

Seven Bridges Road

There are stars
In the Southern sky
Southward as you go
There is moonlight
And moss in the trees
Down the Seven Bridges Road

Now I have loved you like a baby
Like some lonesome child
And I have loved you in a tame way
And I have loved you wild

Sometimes there's a part of me
Has to turn form here and go
Running like a child from these warm stars
Down the Seven Bridges Road

There are stars in the Southern sky
And if ever you decide
You should go
There is a taste of time sweetened honey
Down the Seven Bridges Road

Better than Ezra: Daylight + Its Only Natural / Sneaker Pimps: Sick

Better than Ezra: daylight

You're a long walk in a rain storm
You're a cut that refuses to heal
You're a dull ache that I can't shake
You're a cold that's clogging up my head
Or a broke watch keeping time still
Till you pull me in pull me in
And I can't fight

If the night is cold
And you're feeling old
And the morning cuts you
Like a knife
And you're wearing thin
Feel you're giving in
In the darkest hour of the night
You find daylight

You're a stalled car in the desert
You're a song I can't get off my mind
And in a dire strait
With no hope at all in sight
You come rushing in rushing in
With a lifeline

If the night is cold
And you're feeling old
And the morning cuts you
Like a knife
And you're wearing thin
Feel you're giving in
In the darkest hour of the night
You find daylight

Pull me closer to your breast
I need you finally I confess
I'm drifting I'm drifting
I love you but I hate you too
God only knows what I could do
I'm drifting I'm drifting

Come on give me one reason
Come on find me in daylight
Come on give me one reason
Come on find me in daylight

If the night is cold
And you're feeling old
And the morning cuts you
Like a knife
And you're wearing thin
Feel you're giving in
In the darkest hour of the night
You find daylight
You'll find daylight

---

Better than Ezra: it's only natural

Girl, your daddy's knocking on your door
I hear your footsteps on the floor to me
Stumbling back to your room

Pain it is a thing I can't explain
I only feel it when you go away
I'm waiting for you to return

Don't fight it if it feels good
(Don't fight it girl)
You hide it but you never should
(Don't hide)
Don't listen to voices in your head
What are you and me but monkeys in a tree?
It's only natural
Na-na-na-na natural

Hey, I know your mother's off at work
You say your daddy's such a jerk to you
Why can't they just all fade away

Girl, is that the way it's going to be?
I'm only happy when you're down on me
You can be my honeybee

Don't fight it if it feels good
(Don't fight it girl)
You hide it but you never should
(Don't hide it)
Don't listen to voices in your head
What are you and me but monkeys in a tree?
It's only natural
Na-na-na-na natural

Don't fight it if it feels good
(Don't fight it girl)
You hide it but you never should
(Don't hide)
Don't listen to voices in your head
What are you and me but monkeys in a tree?
It's only natural
It's only natural
It's only natural
Na-na-na-na natural
(don't fight it girl)
It's only natural
(don't hide it)
Is it the colour of your hair?
Is it the silly way you stare?
(don't fight it girl)
It's only natural
Na-na-na-na natural
---

Sneaker Pimps : Sick
I’m playing games with your sex, with your ’lectric shocks
Learn to let myself loose and be the dummy in your snapshots
I’m playing games learn to get on with your backward fans
Stick my body in the sun and help to get rid of the white tan

And maybe then you wouldn’t get so sick of me
And maybe then you wouldn’t get so sick of me
And maybe then you wouldn’t get so sick of me
And maybe then you wouldn’t get so sick of me

I’m playing games, marking names with the blackest thoughts
If you’re building me up to be the target for your cheap shots
I’m playing games keep a blind eye on the main chance
Strip my body of it’s skin and try to cancel out the white trash

And maybe then you wouldn’t get so sick of me
And maybe then you wouldn’t get so sick of me
And maybe then you wouldn’t get so sick of me
And maybe then you wouldn’t get so sick of me

I’m playing games if your aim is for the quick fix
Cos I know what you wanted and I know how you got it
I’m playing games if you play I’m in the fast lane
Learn to jump into the road and learn to save a little lost face

And maybe then you wouldn’t get so sick of me
And maybe then you wouldn’t get so sick of me
And maybe then you wouldn’t get so sick of me
And maybe then you wouldn’t get so sick of me

In a few hours I will turn 17.
Here is my day:
Woke up at 7:10 via cell phone alarm, watched "Good Morning, LA" for a few minutes before deciding to sleep some more.
Woke up again a little after 10. Got up, showered, studied Picture of Dorian Gray and went to math. Nothing new about that, except a boy named Ahli has joined the class. Welcome. Got out of there at 2:20, after snagging myself some Agatha Christie, and went home. Pretended to do math for an hour and then said fuck it. Spent a large amount of time convincing myself not to kill the many flies in the kitchen and then unconvincing myself. They suck.
4:30 finally got my shit together. Put on eyeliner, gray shirt, and maroon dress shirt over that and went downstairs to find D home and cooking. Opened card and gift from Cindy; very pretty. Left and went to LR.
Quickly becoming addicted to the following songs:
Better than Ezra: daylight and its only natural; amused, however, by "Stall" too.
Zero 7: Passing by.
The Eagles: Seven Bridges Road (very much)
Rediscovered my enjoyment of:
Neil Finn: Into the Sunset
Sevendust: Licking Cream
Got to LR and hung out there for a while. Refused to accept a birthday card early.
Left and the sun was pretty glaring... didin't wear sunglasses though; never do. Don't know why. I've never been terribly fond of filters. I'm weird about driving like that, especially- don't like using cruise control or wearing sunglasses when its not totally necessary. Hmm.
Came home. N and D already had dinner. Ate cheesy chicken in the kitchen. Suggested we watch Twin Peaks.
Part way through, my dad called back in reply to the message I left him to say, simply, that I love him. We talked for a little while. I took kind, though not concealed, jabs at his wife. I only said that he has been watching to much Friends, needs to use smaller words, and threatened to throw something if he ever said "I'm hungry mother, I'm hungry" again. That's all.
Went back and watched the rest of Twin Peaks. Took shower. Reapplied eyeliner. Maroon shirt, charcoal jacket. I'm out- drive, took Eep. Was good until the end- I got caught up in looking at two pictures stuck in the visor- of my and my mom many years ago- and also saw a girl with a darker disposition giving me some look and I lost my concentration. There was nothing particularly unnerving about either of those things. More so it was my inability to figure out what the look meant and, then, I led off a little fast. So I figured whatever it was, it had taken a turn at my ridiculous display of automotive power.
Don't mistake; there was no emotion whatsoever. I just lost my concentration or my will to concentrate.
Going home, got the return message wishing me a happy early birthday. Good boy.
Got home. N came upstairs and joked with me for a while, sitting on the floor.
Both of us went downstairs because N got missed a call- my brother- and returned it.
He called to ask when my birthday was- his long-time best friend's birthday is the 27th so its a confusing matter. I tried to sneak outside with my cigarette before she could get my attention. Too late.
Talked to my brother on the phone. "Happy Birthday" was the only reason he called. I said thanks very much and that his graphic design is gorgeous. He said thanks very much. But it was a very easy conversation. And brief, of course. We said talk to ya later, bye.
Went outside and had my cigarette. Running out of time before I am forced to... do something.
Then... wrote this.
The End.
I will be up until midnight, half symbolically, partly because I want to see if I feel different- if perhaps my motivation is hidden just after 12 when I get to be undeniably closer to adulthood. I think maybe it is. Don't know yet.
I'll let you know.

Who am I do disrupt the delicate balance between friend and stranger?
Or between love and hate. Success and failure. But those are viewed as opposites. The line between those pairs is supposed to be quite thick.
But friend and unfamiliar... oh, they are much closer than you might think.
You think that when you smile at someone and share a piece of yourself with them, and they with you, that the relationship is not a mere breath away from evaporating, a mere change in angle away from complete transparency.
--
Well, I suppose that one hopes that is not the case, that the line is thick and the signs visible- that its a straight-shot to where ever we are going... we are fine, we are safe, we are enjoying the scenery as it passes, riding along, this is good.
--
But even then, one must take into account the outside world. If rain should come, we could probably still make it. If we run out of gas, I bet we will laugh.
And if there was a collision... we would see what we're made of. Do you fear it? Sounds dreadful. Not likely but sounds dreadful.
---
Delicate balance. Sharp edges if you stare at it too long.

Lies, Sex, and the Last Days

There are secrets I still don't dare write... I haven't dared to write yet.
There are some things I have feared to even whisper to God, lest some mischievous spirit was listening and might do me harm.
But don't think because no one knows these things that they are less alive in me- that I feel them less or that they are less true, real.
Why am I so frightened?
Three things scare me most: the lies, the sex, and the last days. The last days refers to the period of time leading up to my sobriety.
Now consider that all of those categories have almost 2 years in age. They have all been sitting hidden in my head.
Nonetheless, those three subjects have the most shame in me. It is hard to say which is the worst. The first two are probably tied.
Guilt and shame.
Ah, but underlying that is a portrait of who I was, what is in me, what I have done... that is important to recognize, for me, for some reason.
There is something startling and clear, even if fragmented, about the memory of it all...
Lies and sex shame me. The last days reveal me.
The first two are what I had done. The last is where it led me.
---
We talked today about the dual nature of my mind:
The want to know why I say and do the things I do, to comprehend and check them.
But also, to hide the true reason and live, bask, contemplate in the actions and emotions apart from any true reason and understanding.
Fix the dam or float in the flood waters.

Its somebody's birthday today.
With how many people there are in this world, its probably more than one person's birthday.
Yea.

Don

I found out yesterday that on Thursday evening, a family friend passed away- Don Stone.
He and my father went to high school together and had stayed close since.
He died of cancer.

Nothing to say.
Went to LR this evening and that was good. Told papa that I remember him teaching me to use pastels. Must get paperdolls.
Also got four packages from dad. The contents includes: my new wheel-cover, old journals from 7 to 12, many jackets... stuff.
Goodnight.

Went to school this afternoon. Sat for an hour in geometry- not bad at all. Look at that- I will be going in once a week, in the afternoon. Score one for me.
Found out I did very well on A Separate Peace so I finished testing on Lost Horizon.
Here it starts getting more difficult- Never Promised You a Rose Garden. That isn't the kind of book you can test on easily after 2 months. Well, I can't at least.
Came home for a while and then went to LR for a while.
Now I will go read, maybe go to sleep early.
Oh, and tonight I tried something new on my drive: looking really ditzy. This was effective at taking other drivers off guard and, therefore, allowing me an opportunity to get to speed faster... which would have been probable anyway because I drove Eep- very fast. Even so, this was more successful than acting normally and facing more alert reaction time.
So for tonight, I found this very amusing- educational too.
And then later on, some worried lady in a big Chevy SUV asked me where the nearest gas station was and, not really remembering despite how much I drive, I said something like "keep driving straight and look at the major cross streets, there is one within a mile or two" and there was. Thankfully.

I am getting so lazy. Sorry readers.
---
Yesterday was my anniversary. 22 months.
I drove in the evening with the windows down, like a little girl, with my hair blowing around and Better Than Ezra playing. Good stuff.
--
I heard the dog scratching on the carpet last night- it had been raining. Early this morning, I heard him scratching and N came out to try and make him stop. She ended up sleeping downstairs on the couch to keep him calmed a little.
This morning, got up, made my coffee, got my shit together.
Smoked cigarette out front because it was raining.
Left to school- geometry.
Got there just after class started. Snagged seat at back of class.
No pen. I didn't have a fucking pen. Shit. Rather than interupt anyone else, because there was an actual class going on outside of my world, I just sat there and looked over my papers like I was reviewing or some shit like that.
Too late. I could feel my temperature rising. Tried to study for about 30 more seconds.
Got up and walked out, passing Kathy in the hall- she was talking to another teacher or student. -
My getting up is not an issue for two reasons
a) I am known to be a little eccentric but I make good marks anyway so its kind of "disciplining her will have to be someone else's jurisdiction because she is one of the better students nonetheless."
b) More importantly, there are two separate schools that take place in the same small building: SJ and CS. My school, SJ, is the independent one and we are allowed much more slack and freedom than CS. That means that if I am walking through the halls aimlessly and get stopped by security, I just say the school I go to and am allowed to continue on my little way. This also means that I can leave class without informing the faculty. Nice, huh? To maintain these privledges, it is suggested you actually return to class.
-
So I walk out and down to the bathroom. One other girl is in there, skinny and younger than I am, straddling the sink with her face next to the mirror, putting on makeup .
Whatever. I spend an unusually long time just standing in one of the stalls, trying to divert my attention.
Eventually I leave- the girl is exactly where she was, still applying her makeup.
Whatever. I walk down the hall and know that when I stop moving, I'm fucked.
Not going back towards the face painter. Not going to geometry yet either. I pass the hall back to the math classroom and walk into the SJ area.
Connie is occupied with a student. Okay. I go to the only free standing bookshelf in the room- five feet high and not much longer. The desk next to it is empty and pleasantly concealed- I swoop down into one of the chairs and pretend to read descriptions of the books close at hand- they happened to be authors "L" through "Mc" mainly.
I did that, alternating putting my hair up and down based on panic level, looked momentarily at students that entered, and zoned out.
When I zoned out, it was looking at the health section of academic books- the row I was most relaxed when looking at had titles like:
"Your Baby's First Year!" and "Pregnant too Soon" and "The Joy of Pregnancy" and "Terrible, Toiling, Tempestuous, Terrifying Tottlers!"
I made the last one completely up. But the whole row was child rearing.
So I had got myself somewhat under control when Connie discovered me, looking for "Twain" and imploring my help. We found him and I didn't even have to get up.
I told her something about: panic, went to math, getting control, thanks... but talking to her had started me up again. Damn it.
She left with a book by Mark Twain to deliver to some nice, hopefully sane student. I sat a few minutes longer before biting a partial bullet and getting up again.
Decided to test. I didn't have my fucking paper. Left it in the other room.
Went over, asked someone for a piece of paper, and started testing on A Separate Peace.
I was partway into this when the bell rang. I rose and weaved through teenagers, back to geometry to get my books. Kathy asks where I went and I quietly explain. She says come tomorrow at 1:15 and there will only be one other student, gives me a hug.
I go finish testing and, with some extra time, start another on Lost Horizon before realizing I am not absolutely positive about some of my answers and want to review.
Amy comes and we chat for a minute before Gov.
Go in and sit down. Guess what? I have all my shit! And I am one of the few people that does. Guess what else? I know what the fuck I'm talking about. And I am one of the few people that does.
I do that, leave, turn up BTE, and get the fuck out of that parking lot. I see that boy- John, with his converse and hood up, blonde hair strategically jutting from his forehead straight out.
I smile and turn and go home. Get out all of my books of the floorboard (oops) a little tired and much relieved, and walk to the house wondering why its this warm right after the rain. Not too warm but just odd.
Go in and put the dog in garage- it that Tuesday again- and smoke a cigarette. Rather than start in on any homework, I keep reading After You'd Gone. Still love it.
It starts raining again. From upstairs, I hear a crash- probably lightning- and decide to let the dog in. He comes in somewhat wet, paws muddy, and absolutely freaking out.
I go back upstairs and he follows me.
Bla bla bla.
It stops raining but is pretty fucking wet. Still, I decide to smoke out back, opening our partially limp umbrella, taking a dry beach chair from the garage, and planting myself with a cigarette in the middle of our fucking lake of a backyard. It is obvious from that I cannot avoid the water and my sandals soon testify to that. Two or three times I put out that fucking cigarette, thinking I heard the maids coming, getting up to: wade back to the door, deposit the sandals outside, step inside onto kitchen towel, scuttle around in baby steps to the door, and FINALLY let the maids in! (By which time they have gotten out the key, come in, and finished cleaning the upstairs. Just kidding.)
Nope. At 4:11 pm they finally come. I read outside for that hour and thank mother nature for holding off the rain this afternoon. A little after 5 pm, N comes home and walks the dog. At 5:30 I begin getting restless and, right in front of our two nice maids, run across the freshly mopped floor and up the stairs to change clothes.
Just before 6pm, with my second mp3 CD EVER in hand, I leave for Kerry's.
And just before 6:30, I arrive at my destination and have my therapy.
At the start I thought I was going to panic but I asked to turn on the AC and it was fine from there.
Full circle, guess what? She's pregnant again. Hurray!
Basically: cut down on coffee, take a book to gym, look up angoraphobia, perhaps creative writing course, raise expectations of what I deserve- you know, all that stuff.
But it was all good and dark when I drove home.
I've been home since.
There you have it.

Didn't Break The Silence

I am just letting you know I didn't break the silence. I would have seen it through a lot longer.
No, seriously, I would have.
I died my hair today and am doing just fine. If I relocate all that energy from my time in the shower to writing or something... I don't know, but I think it would make a difference.
So no, I didn't break the silence.
I believe tonight is a full moon.
Tomorrow is Monday. I will go to geometry and then test on A Separate Peace.
The end- need to study. If anything totally mind boggling comes up, you will know about it.

Burger King with N + Back to Numb

Sorry I am such a bad blogger. I have kicked away from who I am... I can't remember what it is I would say if I didn't have my head up my ass.
There was something I thought of today on the way to LR, something about "Water Weight" but I can't really remember now.
Had a dream about Sara last night. First in a long time. Good person.
---
September 14 I got in the hot tub.
Yesterday I ran but didn't get in the hot tub.
Today I was sore, didn't go to class in the morning, got up and went to lunch with N- drove around Burger King, did government slides, went to LR for a while- later than usual, waited in Jeep while N went in grocery store- very busy, young people, a single apple she told me, thinking about myself being inferior or insignificant in the myraid of females in this world, came home, got restless, drove Eep around my well-known route, felt better. Here I am.
---
I feel like shit. Not bad. But not getting any better.
Actually, I really don't feel anything and that is probably the problem.
The other night, when my nose was stopped up, I was really feeling. It was completely genuine. Hard to describe... there wasn't much thought as to "what should I do, how should I be feeling" because it just happened, whether or not it was excessive. There wasn't any dabbling in the dramatic or eccentric- everything that occurred, everything I said- that was me.
After that, I wrapped up my feelings pretty tightly. I did break out in tears a few times but... they were further and further away from me every time.
What is this mess? How did this become a mess? A month ago, I didn't consider this a mess. Two weeks ago, I probably didn't consider this a mess.
What the fuck?
I am going to take a shower. Not because I don't have anything to say, but because I have my head to far up my ass, my feelings too tightly tied for an entirely honest word to find its way here right now.

Can't You Stop Crying?

I think I'm better. A little.
Surface value. I'm okay.
I don't know how I will spend 90 hours at a gym. I don't know how I will spend 1. But I will.
I'm fucked. I feel fucked. The weight isn't so bad today. Its fairly gone. Eating more.
-----
Later:
--
So what happened? I don't really know. It got bad. I was just really emotional, scared about going back to school and the gym, scared about getting older and growing up, and then he says "hey I'm just really too busy to hang out with you, thanks for coming, see ya some day" and I felt really pushed. Hard.
We messaged and I had already felt the floor slipping out, I had felt it for a day or two- it was just a matter of time until it was gone enough to fall. And eventually, after working up to it, I looked down and there was no floor.
I started crying and told him so- not to guilt him but because I thought it would help him understand where I'm at. I took my pills and tried to keep busy. But I needed to know, simply, if he cared or not.
I got on here and typed a short post, crying, nose running.
Something little had occurred- a pebble had hit my fractured, fragile pane of glass in the middle of winter; the splinter grew and the glass broke- not completely (it is not my only pane of glass).
But I ate it and sent my messages with a pretty level of cold clearness, sometimes breaking up.
The last thing I sent with complete alertness was probably the best I sent at all:
We are friends right? And I can call you if I need to? I dont intend on taking up the little time u have but I dont have many people I really trust so it would hurt me a lot yes if you said I cant turn to you still i need to know please. do you care about ME? not talking of others or time
Then I laid down, turned off my light, and got very tired.
Sleep was a simple matter of calming my stomach long enough to slip away- it was pulling at me with much strength so that it took all of my will and much pain to keep it off.
But I did. I needed a response. I needed resolution. Time passed with nothing else said, I was so sleepy, and the pain was still bad. I couldn't breathe- my nose had stopped up when my tears did.
So I rolled around and knew nothing good was going to come that night- that the second I went towards sleep, it would send me something bad and unwelcome- that my dreams would linger in unidentifiable traces long after I wake up. Its hard to describe... I usually don't remember what I dream but I dream a lot and the mood transfers into waking hours. Thus if I dream about bad things, the atmosphere remains when I wake up. Its very heavy when the dreams are bad.
There I am, fighting off sleep, the pain completely awake and with no intention of quitting.
Desperation. Something has to give. I hear through the wall by my bed N cough.
That means she is awake and watching TV in the dayroom. No fully formed idea has come to me but I knock. I think I hear someone get up and go towards the door. I fall out of bed, thankfully, and go to the door. I'm still awake enough to speak words alright.
I apologize as she closes the door to the dayroom behind her and we walk into my room. Probably about when we both sit down, I start crying again. I am just like a little girl and that's how it feels.
An idea. I ask if I can sleep on the couch in the dayroom because I think it would help to be near other people and we discuss it. No, can't do that. She says she will sleep downstairs on the couch with me if I'd like. I say no way in hell. We talk. She lays on the floor and I lay down because I'm too tired to sit up but can't breathe. I climb around and get my little pack of kleenex, trying to blow my nose. Its just pathetic. But we talk for a while and N is just great to me. I really appreciate it, more so looking back.
Then I get a message. I look at the phone and then at N because I know this will be the deciding measure. And I am so relieved that N is sitting there on the floor across from me while I am about to read such a message.
His response was probably the best he has sent:
Yes I care about you so much that's why I dont know why I'm like this
For a multitude of reasons, the most substantial being that I was so damn exhausted, I made no attempt to disguise my relief. I was very happy. The pain was relaxing. Thankful.
I sent my reply:
Then thats very much enough for me. Seriously I dont need to go anywhere or do anything
With my newly rediscovered peace, N and I said goodnight and I put my phone on silence.
No expectations. I never felt a serious urge to look at my phone the rest of that evening.
I slept. The next morning, I got up and got ready for class. I was okay. I was fine.
I read his message and responded, leaving my phone in my truck, went to class.
Tested, in addition, on the Scarlet Letter and did well. Everything I had done was good.
Got the final message and sent the final answer.
Drove by the gym and it was swarming. I'm not sure... I know I went home and ate, did some stuff there and then ran over a curb on the way to the gym.
I know that getting off the freeway I started crying again. I started thinking about what had happened. At first I tried to kill it but then just let it ride. Drove home like that; tears streaming, my sadness available for mass consumption, or at least for those that care enough to look a little closer through the tinted windows. They aren't tinted that dark, you could see if you wanted.
I know I got home and swallowed it after a while.
Left, went to LR and had a very good time. Everything was great, heard stories I hadn't heard before, everyone was in a good mood. Great.
Got home, felt sad, knew what was coming, called my dad. We exchanged hellos and I started crying AGAIN. He's a good person to call when down. He's a good person. We talked and hung up and I thought to myself "I'm too tired to write this" and that pissed me off.
N and D were out to dinner with an Aussie at the time so N and I communicated only in short conversations.
The memory on my phone was running low so I said "Fuck It" and posted the contents of my recent message history. Dad called back to tell me he loves me. I started crying AAAGGGAAAIIINNN but recovered. Bitched at myself quite calmly at the end of that post.
Eventually N and D came home- N and I went on a drive and I DID NOT CRY but yelled about the various components of my 200 ton weight and my lazy strength.
A light was on in the blimp hanger. It is the second night. You could see the frame inside, like a massive ribcage... something important about that.
Got home and I was feeling semi-normal. Still weighted. I fried a steak and drove at 10.
Came back, N and I joked around like fucking kids for quite a while, until we were both in pain.
"You're draggin' ass, Tripod."
Anyway. She went up and I went out to have a cigarette and sang a little. It was good.
And I got to something about looking up at the sky and went to say on the hot tub.
The cover was damp- too late- but I laid anyway. Running my hand across the cover, I saw it was covered with dirt. I didn't mind. In fact, got the palm of my right hand all nice and muddy and then "put my handprint on something I love"
That was last night.
Today will be tomorrow.

Document This + Always Write

Would it be best to document it all or just shrug it off as irrelevant and put nothing here?
(she writes with tears still coming)
Document.
---
1) No ur doing great and you know that. U have to be picky about how you spend your time thats just a fact and shit changes of course and I forget that and want you around and here it is fool myself into thinking thats returned or simple I don't know bla thats it
2) I know yr not leaving me holy shit what is there to leave? ahh what are you confused about? We arent fucking married or dating or having sex or anything I have no claim on you and dont pretend otherwise so tell me please what your confused about
3) Ahh no no what the hell? Now I'm really confused and think you may have taken all this totally wrong holy shit. How amusing! Hi my name is kelly.
4) I'm doing good and you
5) Lol your too kind. No but I wish we were its fun and dead at night. Cali people seem to just scratch their heads and sit in the dark, at least here. but just in case we could use some marshmellows and coat hangers. I miss you guys. Love you
6) Ok and Im sorry again please dont respond but bla
7) Nooo things change people too I still care about you I only worry that u dont feel the same since Ive seemed different guarded etc so that kinda sucks but there fuck leaving me or whatever im sorry ive been so careful lately
8) And im getting up at 5:30 to swim so hell... im sorry and i do care about you so as long as you feel the same and wnt to see me then ts all fine but if not in addition to being busy tell me please
9) Wow... I dont know what to say that made me cry enough this isnt complicated gotcha
10) Thats pretty clear cry tears
11) What are you confused about?
12) No its not! Seriously whats going on in your head. Please
13) Please dont be. We are friends right? And I can call you if I need to? I dont intend on taking up the little time u have but I dont have many people I really trust so it would hurt me a lot yes if you said I cant turn to you still i need to know please. do you care about ME? not talking of others or time
14) Then thats very much enough for me. Seriously I dont need to go anywhere or do anything
15) Thats not to promise ok? U have said you care and thats really enough
16) All I want or need is to know you want me around and enjoy my company even if we never see each other. Thats whats important john.
17) Ok well there you go
18) How goes the college hunt? Need to know where to apply!
19) I'm here and good
---
1) dont be sorry I am just so busy with my garbage that I forget I have stuff in my life beyond school and work
2) Its not like I'm leaving you or anything I just. WEll I dunno anymore honestly I am just confused
3) I know were no nevermind my brain is gonna explode
4) Hi my name is so lost how r u doin today lol class bla bla bla
5) so u out of electricity? I can mail u a generator if u r.
6) why not respond. I'm sorry I havent been the john you remember
7) HUn its okay so have I. WE both have changed. Hell I have an interview with a security company tomorrow...
8) Trust me its not that I want to see you I want to see a lot of people but if I get this second job just so I can save up to afford stuff I will have so little time
9) What do you mean cry?
10) What do you mean I am so confused I'm so sorry if I hurt you I really am
11) A lot of things but that is irrelevant now...
12) I honestly dont know anymore. I am just so confused that I dont know. I am just sorry.
13) Yes I care about you so much that's why I dont know why I'm like this
14) I just want you happy and I promise you can always call or text me and I will make time to see you I promise
15) But I am gonna cause I want to. Nonetheless I am still here for you.
16) And I do love having you around and love your company.
17) What's going on
-------
Stick to your word, bitch. That's enough.
Hurray! Now its down and the messages have been erased... I will sit on the pavement, smoke a cigarette, and write until I have another moment of weakness, of fear, and cry.
But right now, this moment, I am fine. I was fine almost all day- minus these two occasions.
Now its out, its not just in my head. The equation is down and I can work out the solution on here.
The End.
For now, the end.
Get your strength back. Go fucking swim.
God damn it, Katie. Yes, I said Katie.
God damn it, Katie. Don't pull this shit. Not over him. If something is the matter, if you are scared about school or getting older, fine. That's one thing. Give it the right name and then figure it the fuck out. But don't, even as a ploy, pin this on anything to do with him unless it truly is. And you know it isn't.
It isn't. It never was.
If you are going to cry, fine. But never, ever do that again: never sit there with tears falling on the floor and say you don't have the energy, the will to write. If you want to feel better, if you want this to be worth it, GOD DAMN IT GIRL, get off your ass and write it. And then feel the traces, read the words, work it out, swim it off. Whatever but never, ever say you can't write it. Never say you don't want to put it down. That is pure insanity.
You were fine at school, you were fine at LR....
No, I'm not done with this yet. The moments you are too weak to write, or you think for a split second such a load of shit, THAT is when you write.
Damn you if you lay there like a bitch and beat the shit out of your confused, deluded little self. You deserve whatever misplaced, mismatched pain or guilt you are suffering if you will lay there and curl up. Cry, whimper, scream, tear out your hair and eyes, play Smashing Pumpkins, whatever you want, whatever it takes. Write it out, 1 words, 1000 words. I don't care.
As long as you are working it out, you can be as eccentric as you want. Go for it. I dare you.
Shit babe, this is nothing. YOU KNOW this is NOTHING- whatever THIS is, where ever it came from, it is nothing. Recognize that. If you have no strength, if strength left as fear came... you have to deal with a loss much larger than your current crap.

Keeping Busy Until Sleep

I am keeping myself busy until my medicine kicks in.
What do you do? I'm still crying. My eyes have no intention of stopping, whatever may occupy the rest of me.
What do you do?
You wake up at 5 am and go swim. Swim for an hour, leave, go to school... it is what it is.
Go to school, do that, go home, do homework, turn 17, keep doing this for a while... go to LR on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons...
Okay, so keep doing all of that for a while, graduate, go back to Arkansas and think things over I suppose.
Either its all going to be much better or I am about to lose it a lot more.
Goodnight. I will let you know how things go.
Water has always been very good to me.

Dead On.

He hit it dead on. DEAD ON.
Damn! I was impressed. Still am.
Going down to LR. More later.

Within 2 Minutes Prize + Lost Mind + LR

I think I should do something or say something or something if he hits within two minutes of the time. If the message was sent exactly- which it won't be, because even if he was sitting watching the clock, which he won't be, and doing nothing else he still wouldn't send it dead on. I wouldn't. Shit, that is so true. I wouldn't. At least not tonight.
Anyway, wouldn't that be something if he hit within two minutes? Should that convey something to me? I suppose not which is why I won't put anything unusual on my end, nothing special.
I think I've lost my mind again. It stayed longer this time. I lost it yesterday. I want it back. I always miss it when its gone.
Today, though, I slept until two. It was overcast and cool, a great day, but I stayed in bed and missed it. Not on purpose.
Smoked one cigarette, did some geometry, and took a shower. Decided to go to LR so I did- gas station then LR. Stayed a while there. Mildew on table, cleaned up, that's it down there. FYI.
Came back and had Garlic Chicken which was really good... with spaghetti sauce. Awesome.
Drove because I couldn't convince myself not to. That was good.
Tomorrow, eye appointment and then back down to LR. Now, garlic chicken maybe.
I will inform you of tonight's results.
Fuck, this is amusing.

About Kristin in Arkansas

I think the weirdest idea I have in my head to deal with, concerning growing up... is this:
That one of these days, sometime in the near future, I will go back to Arkansas and, for the first time in my entire life, Kristin won't be there. She will be in a different state. And this isn't too far off. It won't be about schedule conflicts or forgetting to call- she simply won't be around.
That blows my mind. That is the thing that trips me up. Because no matter what, I would always be coming back to Arkansas and from there we would always have a chance to see each other. But when we live in two different states and neither of those are the one we refer to as "Home" in the original sense... when our common denominator is taken away...
Wow. It is just so weird. Somehow her moving away is very

AudioBlogger: Laugh at All the Wrong Things.

Complaint and Question: Self-Maid.

I'm sick of cleaning up after myself. How many more years of this do I have?

If I told you I love you...

If I told you I love you... what the hell was I thinking?
There is this feeling of softness, comes across sometimes in the music and I think I might have that in me. Nice idea.
Click back to reality. Its harsh. I'm harsh. My mindset says "sit still, its just a game. be prepared, we're playing a game."

Indignant Independence + Unconscious Collective

I was looking through my old journals tonight. I had committed myself earlier, out of some meds, that it was going to be a night of work, a long night. It will be.

But I was looking for the last days. There isn’t much from that part of my life.

There is something fierce in me right now, brought out by the many pages adorned with a single name. All that ink dried, the letters given, the time spent… on a single name. The name, the person, the words, the journals have long since been iced over. They excite no emotion towards an individual. End of story.

How quickly I stopped dotting my I’s with hearts, the bubbly childish hand-writing became more mature, refined but still young. Overnight, almost.

I clicked, I fell, whatever. It happened. I was done with honest immaturity. I would from then on be dishonestly immature. I would hide my age and its true reflection on my inexperience. Eventually, I would fill up the gap. Not until later.

But that name- so much paper, so much ink, so much time. So very sad, I say without feeling anything. Except there is something in me tonight and always has been since… since I got sober enough to nurture it.

That something is an indignant independence. It sparks up from me. Mostly I forget its there because I forget that anything ever happened to excite it in the first place.

Tonight I sit out and want no man to ever conquer me. I want no person to ever control me. I want to never let another person be master of me. Not even pretend, not even in lust, not even if in retrospect I can tear the whole relationship apart with vicious teeth. No.

Tonight, I tear my wrist away from the fictitious hand that clasps it- a hand whose owner has yet to appear in my life, yet to give my self-discipline a blow. That hand could belong to any man with a pulse, including those with a genetic connection to me. I would tear away from them tonight, one and all, just the same.

Everything that happens is supposed to have some subconscious effect on you, all of the experiences you have are collected and analyzed, whether or not you know the results while awake.

If this is so, and I believe it is, then this sentiment is present in me always. It is in my dreams, I know that much for sure. So is its polar opposite, to be mastered and in love… or to once again convince myself of such emotions. Of course, what do you expect? I’m human. I feel. Not often, but occasionally. For a long time I felt a lot, and some of it hurt pretty badly, but I didn’t know why. If nothing else, my collective experience has given me a concrete resolve; that this time when I feel, I will know why. I want to know why I feel the things I feel.

It is a huge blow to my creativity, so I have always believed. Bullshit. If I have a talent for writing, God help me it must lie somewhere in me other than emotional confusion. That I will write about while it lasts but I can’t create it, can’t live in it so I can make myself successful.

Now I believe that if its anywhere, it with thrive when all distraction is peeled away, when it can have full reign of my imagination, when it is not sharing my consciousness with a single name, a single idea, a single hand whoever the owner might be.

Back to the collective experience; if there is such a thing, what effect have my experiences had on me? Because I am starting to see them and its only the most trivial. That means the big ones must be very big.

When I was 11, my dad had a laptop that I also used. Looking through the history one day, I found some links to pornography, clicking on one that had “cherry” in the title. I was scared. I asked my father about them. He told me the sites were research for a paper he was writing in Law School for some class. I think he grabbed a book from his desk and pointed out a paragraph.

I was very embarrassed for bringing it up and thinking, before I talked to him, they were some reflection of my dad, something my dad would actually look at.

I felt even worse because I didn’t believe him. I didn’t disbelieve him, but I had my doubts. They surfaced in my feeling uneasy any time he touched me, hugged me, put his hand on my shoulder or leg- any sort of prolonged affection made me feel anxious.

Later on, after having lived away from Arkansas for over a year, I started having bad dreams relating to my father. They troubled me because I was having them, my mother because she was afraid they actually occurred, and my father because he couldn’t understand why. I didn’t understand why. After talking to him about it, the dreams ceased.

In the not too distant past, pornography started appearing on this computer. I bit my tongue, so scared to make someone feel uncomfortable. Eventually, afraid that it was coming in on its own and doing some major damage to the computer, I said something very reluctantly. My housemates informed me that they had no participation in downloading any such material… and I believe them.

The computer crashed and burned. Lost all our files, shit happens. Relief, though.

Didn’t think anymore about it until a few days ago: running a program that searches for pictures from all files, I came across another adult video. Momentarily, I held my tongue again and when I did mention something, I did so just as reluctantly as before.

And once again, my housemates said “shit, are you serious?” and once again, I believe them fully.

Back to the fear of affection from my father; that did not subside until after I got sober, at 15. Since then, it is no longer a problem.

The point of all that was simply this: if one silly little discovery can have that much an impact on me, for years, how massive is the quake from more significant events?

Change of events, cause and effect, the role of the unconscious collective on the individual?

Lee's Graphic Design

Beginning Graphic Design Work by Lee. I fucking love it.

A Dream: Apartment Complex Love Triangle

An apartment complex. At one point I was just a listener in this triangle- some guy was in a small, stark apartment- more like a room- doing dishes in the dark. It was pink and white, like the bathroom in the old house. I came in a door from the hall to see this guy.
The sink where he was standing was across the room from my door- it had a window that overlooked the back walk and next to him, scrubing, on the left was a door. It was night time. There was a frantic knock at the back door and a woman yelling. The guy doing dishes stopped and leaned forward, distraught, with his hands on the cabinet and then slide down to the floor.
The woman said something like: are you doing dishes? all of the dishes in the world aren't going to pay the rent...
I knew that she was the landlord's wife. So did he.
She continued with you have to pay it or get out, I can't keep you here. And then she stopped knocking and yelling and said softly, real close to the door, something about needing to pay because he has to stay, he can't leave her. Something about a rose.
Then it clicked out of there.
N was explaining that what she said lastly was very symbolic- it was a movie or something, she thought it was just a movie- and that if you played the soundtrack of her saying those last few lines during a later part of the movie, everything was explained.
Now I was frantic. I told her to play it for me. I was looking for something? I didn't remember or hear the whole of what she said softly through the door and I needed to hear it to understand. There was some hold-up about playing the soundtrack and then... I can't remember.
It clicked out again. Over into another room in the apartment complex, down the hall from the kitchen dude. Two people, the landlord and his wife, were talking. I was the wife.
He was complaining about the cost of running this place or something and I was scared he would remember the guy down the hall or something else.
He is at the foot of the bed, makes a comment about the damn fan, about having five stories worth or fans like that. He means that those fans are expensive and on all five floors, the rooms directly below us that are exactly like this one, they all have these damn fans. Shouldn't have built the rooms like this one so big.

Finds my cigarettes and says "when did you buy these" I say today and he looks- there is only one left and a green lighter "today?" I say yea, I've been up all day waiting for you. What time did you get up?
I can't remember all that. But I got up REALLY early and we got cigarettes and went to see a movie.
What movie did you see?
Huh? Oh, Thelma and Louise or something like that.
He faintly smiles very briefly because he believes me.
I think he leaves and I am by myself so I make a sandwitch. The bread is next to the bed but once I start looking at each piece, they all have lines of mold or something on them, one after another, and I look at the wrapper it says "Use by July 21" and I think to myself there is still a few weeks before then and kept looking at one piece and then he next until I figure they are all bad.

Let's Go: San Diego Tonight

Let's go somewhere.
Just you and me.
Its after 11 pm. That doesn't really mean much. In the great sceme of things, that's early.
Plenty of time.
San Diego. At night. I would love to do that. Let's do that.
I don't know what we'd do once we got there, but we should go.
The freeway curves real nice once you start south.
If the wind is blowing, we won't even need the radio.
We will stop at the train station and see who's hanging around this time of night, crack the window down and see if there's anything to tell us where they're going. We can guess anyway. Even if its silent, that's good for guessing. We can tell secrets that might be true about people we think we see.
Down near San Diego we can head west to the sea, pretend its the end of the earth. That would be nice.

Where's My Purse? + Chevy Boy

Probably a short post because its late.
Got up early again. Damn it.
But since my package would arrive in the short future, I stayed up and was happy.
While it was still early, the sun too low to bake our patio, I decided to go out and write something while I smoked. That something, one way or another, ended up being the long version of the notes I wrote about August 3, 2005 while I was back in AR. That was the day I watched a movie with my brother in the afternoon. Okay, here we go.
Start out doing that and continue it throughout the day, on multiple occasions.
By 4 pm, I had it done- 8 pages written out by hand on the graph paper of my red journal, gel ink pen, black.
I was strung out and decided to go briefly down to LR.
The package: long story short, it didn't come today. I was not pleased. The delay, as shown on the UNITED POSTAL SERVICE WEB PAGE, when I checked it by tracking number was simply: Package Missed. No Attempt to Deliver as Scheduled.
Fuckers. Whatever. I left the house- revived a bit once I got in my truck. Got down there, brief stay- learned that Robert overslept on accident today and other trivial happenings- but departed pretty quickly.
Walked out to my truck, safe in a black fleece jacket, and parked one empty space away was a gray Chevy truck. Very pretty.
I have a love for Ford and Chevy trucks exculsively so it would seem.
And in the Chevy truck, as a was walking up, was some guy digging under his seats.
Nevermind. Went ahead and unlocked the door, opened it and glanced up- young man, brown hair, somewhat good looking, not much my type but hell, who am I to be picky?
Again, nevermind. Checked myself and got in, aware that he had seen me for the first time.
He started his truck and sat there. I started mine and, in buckling my seatbelt, got another look at him while he was open-mouth- I kid you not- surveying my truck, perhaps- this I speculate- trying to equate the girl driving with being the owner of such a vehicle.
He was probably slightly older than me and good looking, again. His vision got back up to me and rather than flick my eyes away nervously, I kept the gaze, eventually breaking away to shift into reverse.
He did the same in a hurry and began to back out while I sat waiting, looking busy swapping CDs or something, and- I am really not kidding you- all the time he was backing up, he looked at me, or maybe Layla, with devote interest and I turned away to smile. Such a little girl.
But once he had started, very hesitantly, to drive off- very slowly- I watched him quite obviously... until he stopped. No reverse or anything, he just stopped.
Shit- what I thought and maybe even said. I started back just a little and stopped, then turned my attention back to the Chevy to see what would happen next. After a pause, it drove a few more feet and then stopped again. This time I did say "shit" and smiled still looking at the other truck.
Maybe, could be, no way... and in the end I didn't find out. I left the parking lot a back way, and as I passed the Chevy, heading the other direction, finally he let off the brakes and started slowly driving away.
Why? Totally unsure of myself.
I thought maybe he would pop up at some stoplight. Nope. I didn't think so.
What then? I would have been cool, almost unresponsive, speaking only in quick but vibrant glances, stares, facial expressions only- read me; what do you think you see?
I would have hidden my smile as much as possible, tried to remain occupied with my music choice, identifying the location of various unknown objects in the passanger seat, floor board, dash board, console, visor, wherever. anywhere. shit.
And from these actions and the response they acheived, I would have enough material and satisfaction to write a fucking post about it.
Yes all that, without saying a word, is enough for me in the area of relationship advances- for now.
Bla. Enough.
Came home, read my writing out loud to N and D which was uncomfortable, went for a drive tired from the reading for some reason but still good- listening to the CD Lee burnt for N a while back- and came home.
Now, everyone else has gone to bed and I sat outside wondering why my thoughts weren't running around a usually dominate subject- the change is good.
I felt free of it. It isn't dominating me. Thankfully.
--
For later: thought about not displaying emotion and the constant cloud.