Tuesday, August 31, 2004

So thats what bleach does.

So today I went on a womany-housewifey spree. I made lunch, did the dishes (twice) and the laundry. I even took my comforter and pillows to the laundry mat to wash them in the BIG washing machines. Anyway, proof that I am incompetent in these matters just came out of the dryer. For some reason, I put bleach in the washer with my sheets. My sheets are, excuse me, were black. Anyway, just in case you were ever wondering, bleach turns black sheets into a rusty pinky orangy color, and not consistently, but in giant ink-blot type splotches. So currently I am suppressing anger, frustration, disappointment, and self-loathing. I feel it beginning in my stomach. It is boiling up into my throat, ready to spill over. Breathe in. Breathe out. Or as Senorita Benedum would say, "Step back, take a deep breath, let it go" But now I have to buy some new sheets, because I will get upset everytime I look at my bed. And I cannot afford new sheets just now, although I do enjoy buying new an awful lot. Okay, it is my obsession. Now, don't you go and say that this was sabotage. I do save all my sheets so I can have a variety of bedclothes to choose from. Why would I ruin some? I do hate these black sheets though. They show everything. I am upset. They look SO bad.

AND. . . There is a spider living in my room without my permission! I went to go find someone to kill it and it was gone when I came back. Worse thing, it was over my bed when I left it. Is it on my bed now? What if it crawls in my mouth or nose or ears or hair while I am sleeping? They say people eat bugs in their sleep. Well, Ashley said that I think. *Shudder* How I am supposed to sleep now? Darn it. I just hate bugs.

I was having a good day too.

You said You loved me.

Maybe some silences are meant to be.
Perhaps my bruises are not as bad
as I say they are.
What if I want more
than I said I need?
Is it okay that I am inconsistent
and broken
and lonely?
Maybe I might run away from you.
And what if I do so
just to see if you follow me?
Would you still listen
if I spoke to you in riddles?
How would you feel if I said
you inspired me?
Can I change my mind?
Will you hold my hand
even when it makes me uncomfortable?
Sometimes when I have a problem,
I do not want you to fix it.
Can you just listen to me?
What if I am afraid to get mad at you?
Or I get defensive when you are mad at me?
Can we talk about it?
Will you get scared if I cry over nothing?
What if I cannot be strong all the time?
Will you tell me when I do something wrong?
Can I be purposefully imperfect?
What if I hurt you?
On purpose?
What if I am a hypocrite?
Sometimes I am blind
to others needs.
Sometimes I am selfish.
And I lie.
And what if I promise
that I will lie to you?

Would you still love me then?

Monday, August 30, 2004

Liquid, Swirling, Jelly-Clay

I have lots of liquid emotion swirling around in me that has not yet thickened into the jelly-clay necessary for forming them into words. Cold and hot.

And the day was beautiful. I enjoyed just driving with the windows down, the wind blowing my hair all around, happy music playing too loud on the stereo, singing at the top of my lungs and smiling like an idiot at no one. Happiness.

And then apprehension. Grandpa Lewis worked on my car today and a bolt broke off in something important and I felt that hot wave of anticipation at future hardship. But then he fixed it.

And anger, because she was in a bad mood today and had nothing nice to say. And I warned her. Stop being so mean or I'll leave. And she made another comment later. And I left.

And spiffiness because I ended up at wal-mart and they had my new favorite toothpaste and foaming hand soap and ACT mouthwash and I felt all grown up. I wish I had my own bathroom.

And then defiance when she said she worried about me when I was gone. I should have told her where I was going, she says. I say, you have left me in similar situations before. I leave the room. She likes to fight. I do not like to fight. And my room is my sanctuary.

And lots of other smaller things. Like procrastination. Nervousness. Restlessness. Discontent. Contentedness. Anticipation.

Sigh. I know where I want to be. Forever Summer. 1989. You and me playing in the plastic pool in your backyard. Running from your dog. Or swimming at grandma's playing the little mermaid. Or in the room with the giant fireplace of stone. Or being afraid of the hole in Joanies floor. Or grandpa lifting us up in the bobcat bucket. Swinging on the crane. My mom going down the huge slide at the beach. Me rolling down the parking lot of putt putt. The time you ______ in a napkin. Burning our butts off at Spirit Song. Watching Emilie and being scared to death when she was sleeping, checking her breathing every five minutes. And remember when there was only one pool at the Bavarian inn?

My Current quandary (as mentioned to the square root of Sarah squared, aka plus or minus Sarah)

Sometimes this feels like reaching out to the world, and other times it feels like me spending way too much time writing in my diary. Ah well. I have come to need this.

I am listening to Jeremy Camp. It makes me kinda sad because I missed his concert. But again, oh well.

Today was the kick-off picnic at MUM. I saw Chris and Johnna and Ashley all at the same time. Saw Brad from far away. It was strange. Like lunch at high school. Except it wasn't. And part of me wanted to stay there all day and pretend and part of me wanted to leave as quickly as possible. I stayed for a bit, then I left. I would say that I compromised with myself. It was nice, sure, but it felt like. . . stale or something. Like trying to revive something past.

And maybe I am not social enough, but I never wanted to be. I like hanging out with my aunts and cousins more than my friends, most times. And I do not care about the social implications of that, because I never wanted to be cool or popular. I don't even care about all that. Some of the coolest people I have ever met have been the "geeks" and the "nerds" and I love them for it. And I do not know what label I fall under, but again, do not really care. The most important thing to me is to be liked by those that matter to me. I don't care if the most popular girl or guy in school things I am a loser, but I do care what you think. And I think the most tragic thing for me would be to not live up to my own standards. It is hard to measure oneself with the same stick as everyone else.

I don't even know where I am going with this, but I usually do. Most the time my thoughts are all connected on a common string, whether you can see it or not.

So many times I am tempted to repeat what I have already said. I guess that is because, most the time I have to. Sometimes I feel like I am not being listened to. I want to be able to make an allusion to something I have already said before and for you to understand. Like if I tell you that I was going to talk about skating around each other again, you would know what I meant. I know I talk a lot, but it hurts me when I feel that people are not listening to me. I talk less, or say less. I just want to be heard. Its like, if you are not listening, how can you know me? If you are not listening to me, do you even want to know me? If you do not want to know me, how could you love me? Yes I know, too dramatic, too sensitive. These are my inner ramblings.

Sunday, August 29, 2004

And just for me.

I always turn the music on and then pause it the whole time I am on the computer. Why even turn it on? I only really listen to music in my car, and then, really loud. Makes me feel cool or something.

Wow, I wish I could say something. But then, people read this. So everything I write must be filtered. What do I want you to know? How many of my vulnerabilities will I let you see? I am very tempted to show you this one thing. But. . . would you take it the wrong way? Would you think of me differently? Would I then be afraid of you? Temptation. Because every part of me just wants to be known. I want to be completely known.

So I will say it, this scary thing. It may sound little to you, or common, but it scares the hell out me. I want you to like me. And just for me. Not for what you hope I might be or what I try to be. I want you to know everything about me, flaws even, and love me just the same. And I want you to tell me, because I am insecure and I need reassurance. Often.

And I want to tell you that I like you. Without social stigmas or preconceived notions of romance. Just that I like you. And that is more than love, I think. Because I have to love some people, but not necessarily like them. So when I say I like you, that is something for me. But I cannot say it to some, because people get all weird. And maybe I do not expect anything more from you than a smile, just to know that you like that I like you.

So if you are reading this, then I probably like you. Because why would I tell you these things if I did not? Yes, I mean you. And I just wanted to say it. And I wanted to put it in text, where you can look back at it and see that yes, I did say that. I did mean that. For reassurance. Because I probably wont tell you in person, unless you ask me. Then Ill tell you. I just. . . I am afraid of what your face would look like when I told you. So I told a couple of you on IM. And that scared me to death, but I thought it was goodbye and I could not bear to leave you not knowing. You have been my friends and I like you.

New subject. I was driving home from Ashleys house tonight and I was so scared. It was dark and the road was wet, but that was not the half of it. I was driving through country roads that had cornfields or trees on both sides of the road and I was afraid a deer would jump out and attack me or something. Here I am in a box made out of tons of metal and some glass and I am afraid for my safety.

Aww, I just got done talking to Rachel. She said "microwave baby" Do you remember that? Oh, let me share the story. We had to dress up potatoes in clothes for some reason in English class eighth grade. Rachel, Katy, Ashley, and I made our potatoes into a barbershop quartet. My Potatoes name was Pier. We even had a song.

Microwave Baby
All you gotta do
is press
"one" or "two"
and then
to bake my heart!
Microwave Baby!
I still have Pier the Second. Sigh.

I was thinking today about how someone just saying my name can make me feel. Its so weird, I guess. Like how warm and motherly I feel when Emilie or Elisabeth says my name. Or how instantly aggravated I feel when my mom says my name. Or how I feel when you say my name. I cannot specify there, I do not know who you are. But like, I feel so loved when someone says my name when they are excited to see me. And I feel sad when someone says my name and they are depressed. And I feel motherly again when they are hurt and just want some comfort. A lot of weight the one word carries. I like it. Say my name.

And, as has become routine, I must go do my homework. I bid you goodnight and pleasant dreams or good morning and pleasant new memories or good afternoon and . . .

Twenty four. . . Twenty Five. . .Twe-

I got one of those foot bath things from walmart and some foot scrub and did my very own pedicure! And I gave a pedicure to Elisabeth too. She kept asking, "Wa sat? Wa sat? Why? Why? Why? I like dat. Me do it. I wan mell it. It mell good." Translation: Whats that? I like that. I want to do it. I want to smell it. That smells good. So that was fun.

I am procrastinating right now. I do not want to do my homework Ug.

Well, I gave myself half an hour on the net and it is currently 29 minutes. So, I will write again tonight, after I take care of my responsibilities.

I love you, Ashley! I am sorry you work so much! I will save you cake from the party, I promise!

Saturday, August 28, 2004

And THEN. . . And THEN

Soooooo. . . . Saturday Class is freaking awesome. I parked in the best spot ever! And everyone I saw in the hallway was on their way to the same class as me. And my teacher is hilarious. And the math is easy, although I am scared to death that I will not be able to explain it to children. This will be a new skill to learn. It will be like telling someone how to breathe. I have done it for so long I do not even know how I do it. Wow. So I like it mucho.

I hung out (hanged out?) chilled with my dad today. We went to Middletown shopping center thing. I went to the consignment shop and Hancock fabrics while he got his hair cut. I got the cutest little outfit for Elisabeth! Oh, Oh, and I purchased some material to make a curtain for that window. Finally! Oh, Oh, and I looked at the books with all the patterns in them and drooled over all the civil war era dresses and sighed and the other lady there was doing the same thing! And then I was telling the cashier lady all about it (because I talk to complete strangers about everything and quite often) and she said she was a reenactor! Wow! And there is some kind of encampment in Piqua next weekend and I am on my vacation so I can go! And Dad is taking a vacation day and he will take me (because frankly, he has no choice in the matter) Oh, and I am going to the fair at New Boston with Katy on Saturday! Exciting stuff. Yay!
I wish I could wear corsets and hoopskirts and petticoats! (While wearing deodorant and having brushed my teeth with Colgate, oh, and in the air conditioning)

Anyway, and then we went to the grocery store and I experimented with pork chops for dinner. I marinated some in Hawaiian marinade and it actually turned out good! Wow, I cooked something! Mmm, I will have to make some for you sometime, if you like pork that is. Well, I could use chicken too. And I wasn't afraid of the grill! Yay for me!

And. . . I think that is all the exciting stuff I had to say.

Dreams, ugh. So I was not hiding from an enemy, like usual, last night. I was hiding a secret, and it was weird because it was a real secret that I actually do hide. Except in the dream, they found out, and all this stuff and it was horrible. And I cried in my dream and I woke up crying and it was just awful. Will I tell my secret to relieve myself of this burden? Um, no!

So, I feel a bit overwhelmed at the amount of homework I have to do, mostly reading. I have so much to read that I don't have time to read stuff I enjoy, like those romance novels I checked out. It is just as well I suppose. Here is how they all go. Girl, and then guy. Girl and Guy belong together. Some conflict keeps them apart. Conflict resolved. Mushy moment (we can call this the "aww" or "sigh" factor). Then they live happily ever after. The end.

Okay. Now I have to read Twenty Years at Hull House and Physical Science and Math and History stuff. Darn it.

Oh well. Good day. I am going to do homework for say, an hour, and then I will spend the night with Joanie. Tomorrow is my brothers b-day party.

Papaw changed my oil today! And I got windshield wiper fluid! (This is exciting for me. Its like taking my car to the day spa or something.) Now, I need air freshener and a wash.

Anyway, farewell. And really do, I mean. Fare Well.

Friday, August 27, 2004

Grand Scheme of Things

I dreamt of hiding again last night. It would not have been anything to talk about except that I had not dreamt of hiding for awhile. Since the last time I posted about it, I believe. I do not know how long ago that was, probly not too long in the grand scheme of things, but it was not yesterday. From my quick read-through it looks like Aug. 11, but I did not read thoroughly. Anyway, this one was so real. This one I could feel. I can still feel it. Physically. *shudder*

Good day today. Got paid. Alot. Have to pay bills. Gonna get a pedicure. Or go to Layne Bryant. But not both.

I will write more tomorrow. I promise. I have to go to school in the morning. Ug.

Thursday, August 26, 2004

I hate short posts.

Here I am hiding in my room again because I am afraid of people. Nah, everyone is in bed anyway. I feel like I should be doing something. . . Oh, homework.

I got a planner today and I transferred the dates from all my syllabuses? syllabi? into the planner. Now I have all the due dates in one place. Next: Remember to check planner.

Wow, its a little late. I watched the Olympics too long. Awesome stuff though.

I must go. I have class early (early for me anyway) and I work nine hours tomorrow. But hey! I have my vacation next week if anyone wants to do anything anytime. Heh. Im a loser.

Wednesday, August 25, 2004

My Fair Viking

Man! I made a freaking long post and my browser froze on me and I lost it! Grrr. Stupid technology. Im so mad I forget everything I said.

I wrote my favorite author and she wrote me back. P.C. Cast. Paranormal Romance. Boys wouldn't like it. That made me happy.

School is good.

I went to the library today. I got one sleazy romance novel, one not so sleazy romance novel, and one historical Christian romance novel (that means they don't even kiss.) I have grown out of my sci-fi stage and into a girly one. I am allowed to do that, I am the proud owner of estrogen.

There was alot more, but I do not remember now. Stupid computer.

Tuesday, August 24, 2004

Big Blubbering Idiot

Today has been. . . remniscent. I heard a song I have not heard in a long while. It made me feel the feelings I felt when I listened to that song. Wow. And then I started working on my scrapbook and as I looked through those pictures I longed to be there again and the only thing I could think was that I was just going to get further and further from there. And then I found a picture of Grandpa and I cried. I went downstairs and my mother held me while I cried. I miss him so. So here I am a big blubbering idiot who is reduced to tears every other day.

Monday, August 23, 2004

School Daze

I am full of nervous energy. I have to tell my professors tomorrow that I will miss two weeks of class for china. What will they say? Sigh. I will not be able to sleep tonight. Good luck to all of you. Tell me everything.

Ever stick you hand in the pop and try to drink the popcorn?

Funniest thing: I just tried to staple some papers together with my phone.

Everyday: To be imperfect.

I am so. . . Variable. That's not the word, but I cannot think of a better one at the current moment. I am not steady or stable in my emotions. Even naming them here has only increased this effect. When I see them, I can react to them. Do I know myself any better today than I did the day before I started my blog? I do not know this. I am more accountable to myself. What I say in my head is still here, tangible, for me to reckon with. I cringe as I read some entries. I smile at others. Still, I agree with some and become embarrassed at others. Some, I want to delete, but I will not because, like it or not, this is who I was at the time I typed it, or who I thought I was.

I am allowed to be imperfect. I am allowed to be flawed. You should love me anyway. I may never live up to all of your expectations of me, or any of them. I will probably surprise you once in a while, and on that note, I will disappoint you as well. Let that not be the end of our friendship. This I know: it is so much easier to walk away, I have done it many times. There is no fruit in walking away.

And I find communication scary and most effective. Most of the time, I cannot say what I feel about you when I see your face. I can tell you here. I can tell you in poetry. But, when I see your face, I am terrified. Of what? Your response? Not being reciprocated? Rejection? Vulnerability? It may be all of these things.

I get lost and overwhelmed in all I want to be. (Warning: I may have said all of this before) Sometimes I want to be what I think you would want me to be. I want to be liked or loved or something. But the thought of that makes me angry. I should not have to earn or change for love. I should be worthy of it. And I feel that I am not.

And I get lost in religion. I know what I want to believe. My heart strays. My heart does not commit. I know the truth here, but not here. My heart believes, my head argues? I cannot explain to you. I feel torn in two with this. I want to be completely submerged in God. I want to drown in His presence, and it seems so far away. Or am I running? And I never do what I say I will do. I am unreliable here, in religion, faith. I know this: My happiness is directly proportional to my faith. When I start to doubt, I become depressed. I know where this happiness comes from. Just sometimes I think, What if this is all some elaborate hoax? Did someone make this all up?

I know what I want, because I think it will make me happy. I am sure it will not. But, I cannot rationalize this to myself. I want it nonetheless. Or maybe this is some built-in desire. Something pre-programmed into all human beings. I do not know this.

We are not defined by the major events in our lives, but by the everyday. I am the sum of every day I am alive. People will not remember me for what I was at homecoming or at Grandpa's funeral. They will remember what I was everytime they saw me. Let this remind me, what I want to be, because that, I need to be everyday.

I want to be beautiful. (And again, I am not talking about the physical.)
I dreamt I was happy, and I woke up to the sharp realization that I, in fact, am not.

Sunday, August 22, 2004


I SO slept 13 hours last night. But hey, crying really takes it outta ya. *Yawn* I had a good day today. I went to Bettys jewelry party. I purchased a necklace called "primrose". Its made of some crystal that changes colors. It reflects the light waves of whatever you are wearing, or some such. I liked it anyway. There was also a necklace I liked called "kindred", but I am pretty sure I just liked the name. After the lady told us the name, I was preoccupied the rest of the time. Kindred? I know what it means, but why am I so fascinated with the word? It stirs something in me. Kindred. Something old. Strange colors connected with this word. Like the color of antique silver and sepia.

My cup overfloweth

I am so full of feeling right now that I cannot control. I need to learn that. This is my weakness. I am captive to my own emotions. And these feeling contradict one another. I just want to be close to you. I don't even want to see you. (The you's being different people) I am full of regret and sadness and amusement and longing. I got into Bettys car and it smelled like Grandmas car used to smell and suddenly I was there. I was that little girl in the back seat as Grandpa drove us to dinner. And it made me happy to remember. And it made me sad. I miss him. I miss you Grandpa. And other feelings. Like seeing all these people from school that I had not seen for months. I had not expected to see. I told myself that after high school everyone would go away and I would not see them anymore. And there they were. It was nice. And quite amusing.

And I am disappointed and I wont say that I am not. But that is not only it. I feel so damned dependent. I cannot do anything new by myself and I need to learn to. I cannot go through my life expecting someone to hold my hand everyday.

And my friends are gone. I needed one of them yesterday, and they were not there and it made me sad. And then I knew, I do not have enough friends. I am not so good at getting close to people. They scare me. Even my friends do not know me so well. And I would not rely on them for much. And I am afraid to ask them for much. And this came into sharp relief twice yesterday. I saw how close they all were and I missed how I could do that once. I haven't been friends like that in a long while. And now they are gone.

And I just. Im. . . I am. . .

I think Ill just go to work now.

Saturday, August 21, 2004

I am SO disappointed.

Friday, August 20, 2004

I did get my cotton clouds.

So I did have a nice day today. I left last night and went to Ashleys house. It was fun. We watched Sue Johanson. I like her. She hugged me. I got off work early today and Ash and I went out to dinner. It was a nice day. I don't have time for much else. We are going back to her house. I just wanted to tell you all that your concerns warm my heart. And you were right.

Thursday, August 19, 2004

I said NO!

I was in a good mood until I came home. No, that's not correct. I was in a good mood until I told her she could not borrow my car tomorrow. She is pissed now, of course. She just told me to come downstairs. I asked why, she said she wanted to talk to me. I refused to go. We spoke, me standing at the top of the stair, her somewhere just out of sight. She asked why she couldn't, I say I just filled my car up. She says what if she puts gas in it? I say she never does. Dad says he will fill my car up. I say I refuse to have this argument. I leave. I blog. She doesn't have a license or insurance. If she gets pulled over, my car gets towed away. I cannot afford the impound fees. They definitely cannot afford them. It is my car. I have the title in my name. I pay the insurance. I pay for the gas. I get the oil changed. I pay for the repairs. It is my car, my decision. I say no.

So, when I get up in the morning, she is going to be up and dressed. She is going to bustle around the house pretending I said yes. She will call people and tell them she will be over later. She will ask me what time I want to leave. She will pack my lunch. I will tell her no. She will first ask nicely. I will say no. She will ask why. I will tell her why. She will get mad, call me ungrateful. Say she never asks me for anything. Make up some reason about having to go see her mom. I will say no. She will get madder, start screaming at me. I will leave. She might follow, she might not. I will drive away.

I don't want to do that tomorrow. Sigh. I hate that routine. Maybe I should leave now. If I left now I would not have to argue with her. I would be gone. I could go to Joanies or Ashleys.

Im going to cry. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.

Chica Chica Slim Shady

My name is Sarah
and it means "princess"
but most times,
I do not feel like one.

My name is Sister
but most times
he calls me

My name once was
and I was perpetually offended
at the "o"

I once hated "Sarah Jo"
but then she called me that
and with affection
and I loved it too.

And my name is Ra Ra
and it is wonderful
when she says it.

My name is You
when you speak to me.
And my heart swells
at that.

But mostly,
when you say it,
my name is

Wednesday, August 18, 2004

Sanctus Real-Nothing to Lose

Give love one to another
andGive love one to each other
We'll be fine
We'll be fine

I feel alone, I feel so cold,
When I'm apart from you for just one night.
You keep me alive, feeling fine
When I've got something as good as you inside.

Got nothing to lose, been hanging in twos,
But I need something to get me through this.
Been hanging in twos, got nothing to lose,
But I need you to get me through this.

There's no better time
Than when I find you in a feeling
And know I'm doing alright.
Nothing to hide, just to confide
When I've got something as good as You inside.

What the world needs now
Is a little know how
To turn itself right upside down

One to another,
One to each other,
And we'll be fine
Sanctus Real

I really love the part, "When I find you in a feeling" With me its more like, when I find a feeling whose only name is yours.

Tuesday, August 17, 2004

Its better at the bug.

I had forgotten that I could be happy and be at work at the same time, but today it happened. It was all Betty. Thank you. I hope that unsaid person goes away someone, for unsaid person makes my everyday awful, and she was not there today. *Yawn* Im going to bed now.


Not in a very good mood again. Got called into work. Makes me sad. Oh well. I did bargain with them though. "I will come in tonight if I can get off work an hour earlier on Saturday." And they agreed. Now I have time to do all four things Saturday. Work,Party, Reunion thingy, Concert. In that order. Work includes the fashion show, which will be fun. But work is never fun enough for me to want to be there for 40 hours a week. Geez.

Argued with my mom some more today. I don't think she could say anything to make me happy today. Just go away. That made me happy. Her very presence upsets me. Oh well. It will pass. I cannot wait for school to start. Then, I will not have to drive her all over the state every friggin day. I have better things to do. Or let her borrow my car. Now that makes me really mad. She brings it back on empty and all messy and full of junk. Grrr.

Why do I keep smelling skunk?

I get so tired of sitting out in the car while she runs in here for a minute, in there for a second. Come On! And then, we have to go to Franklin, then back to Middletown and then over to Carlisle and Middletown again and then back to Franklin. . . Does she not know that gas isn't free? Come on! I don't want to spend all my free time being her taxi driver.

Where is that smell coming from?

And I bought my books today. Four Hundred Dollars. Wow. Oh well.

Wow, I need to go investigate the origin of the stench.

I'll be back later to complain some more.

Monday, August 16, 2004

Won Hun Dread

Wow, this will be my 100th post. I do talk a lot. I made my very first post on June 14th. I cannot believe I have not given up on this yet. I am not so good at following through on projects I start.

I saw James today. He got evicted from his apartment. Just like James, huh? I wish I could just do something to make him and his life all better. I just want to fix him. I want to fix the world.

I cannot.

I miss him. Or rather, I miss what he used to be, when I thought he loved me. I still love him, through it all, even if he is a stranger now. No time can erase all my memories, and they are many. I do not even know if he ever loved anyone. He seems so distant, so detached from the world. All I ever wanted was to impress him, than maybe he would love me, see how I loved him, how we loved him, and stay, and change. I wish I could change what was.

I cannot.
I would not.

So here I am. I was thinking about my parents relationship today, or what I see of it. They fight so much. Everytime I hear them fight it tears at me. I cannot stand it. She lies to him. He tries to control her. They both have their addictions.

I remember when they wanted a divorce. I thought I would die. I could never live with just one of them. Mom is too. . . sporadic, random, uncontrolled, irresponsible, fun for all the time. Dad is too predictable, controlling, prejudiced, boring for all the time. They even each other out. I can spend time with Dad and then Mom, like I did today. And I like it when we spend time as a family, but I would never choose one over another. I would go live with Joanie again.

I would.

But no, they did not fight today. I am just grumpy. All day. I could probably choose to be in a better mood, but, those dreams. *shiver*

Dad made several racist comments today. One (what do I call a comment against gays?) comment, and one sexist comment. Grrrr.

He told me once that this was America and that he thought he had the right to his own opinions.
Sure, just keep your damn mouth shut around me, because I don't want to hear it!

Everything irritated me today.

Except the sky. Tonight it was all pink around the edges when I went out. It got darker higher up and the stars shone. Calming. Steady.

Mom just left again.

Sunday, August 15, 2004

This shadow in me.

I think I have narrowed it down a bit, this discord.
It is a yearning. A desire unmet. Longing.
For what,
I do not know.
My. . .
I don't want to say mind.
feels foggy.
I feel blind.
I cannot see myself.
What I really am.
Full of irrational emotion.
There is no clarity here.
(Like that night we roasted smores, the foggy sky.)
I am hiding something from myself.
I am running from it.
But it pursues me
and haunts my dreams,
this shadow in me.

What is beyond the earth?

I am full of discontent today. Nothing makes me happy. And I feel a discord within myself, a dissonance.

I dreamt of hiding again last night, of being pursued.

I don't even know what I want.

I feel out of place. I am looking at everything around me as if this is only temporary. The face of the world will fall away soon and I will be where I belong.

No, I do not know what I mean.

And everything they say to me is the wrong thing. Everything feels off-key. And I do not know what they could have said or done that would have been alright.

Where could I go, but here? Where have I been, but here?

Maybe I just want to sit in Ashleys basement and get lost in Lord of the Rings on her big screen. Comfortable with her and with me. Being someplace else together. Knowing each other. Silence.
Everything here seems out of place. Wrong. I want to get lost in a book, another world. That will feel better today. Comforting.

Ashley works all day.

One of my windows doesn't have a curtain on it. They did not have enough fabric. I only had enough to make curtains for three windows. There is a sheet on the window. I need more fabric. This window is in discord with the others.

And this is happening inside me. Except here, I cannot pinpoint the source, only the result. The emotions in me are the wrong color. Tye-dye of browns and grays and the color of scary dreams.

I am tired of being lost in the color of memories.

I want to abandon myself in fantasy.

Warm, liquid, swirling, dreams.


I have a box of "stuff" in my closet. It is full of concert tickets, pom-poms from my first football game, pictures, that paper crown from Chicago, my tri-fold senior pictures album thingy, that pink notebook you got me for my birthday last year, Pier-the potato, and other such memorabilia. I am not sure what to do with it all. I just thought I would tell you about it because I was just thinking about it.

I was talking with my mom tonight, and it was nice. I told her that I can see what my friends are, what they want to be, and what they probably will be, but, I cannot see myself. I do not know what kind of person I am. I don't know how others perceive me. I do not know all of my flaws, but I do know a lot that you don't know. I don't think I can love me because I am so busy hating me so much. I love other people because I love their good points and their flaws. But, I cannot get past my own. I am forever dwelling in my own inadequacies. And I always think that I am not good enough for you. I am not good enough for you. I am not good enough for you.

That screams through my head over and over. All day. All the time. Maybe I will never be good enough for anyone. Maybe the people who would live up to my own standards are not interested in the likes of me. I feel so. . . Inadequate.

I look at the relationships of the people I love the most. I do not have on good example of a healthy male/female relationship. It seems that I am doomed to repeat one of the examples I see before me. And it makes me sad. And it makes me lose hope. And it makes me feel lonely. Irrevocably lonely.

Saturday, August 14, 2004

Drone is more like it.

Ug. Long day at work. I cant be poetic or articulate after only saying, "How can I help you?", "Are you ready to check out?" "Are you finding everything okay?" "Did you want to try those on?" and "Thanks for shopping with us today" all day. I feel like some kind of machine, repeating the same tasks over and over for hours and hours.

Wow, the screen is being really wired. I think Ill say that's it for now. Night.

Stupid Flash Video

Last night, I was looking at the flash videos at http://www.albinoblacksheep.com One of the videos scared me so bad. It was called subliminal messages in music or something like that. Anyway, it had a song and if played backwards, you could hear some girl saying the lords prayer and it sounded really creepy. I had to turn it up really loud to hear it. Then, right in the middle, a scary face pops up on the screen and starts screaming a terrible scream and loud music plays. I jumped out of my chair, knocked over the trashcan (full of shredded paper), ran out my bedroom door screaming, and then ran down stairs and outside. I was completely alone in the house and I was so scared. I called my moms friend and made her talk to me till my mom got home. Then, I made my brother go turn off the computer. I slept with my bedroom door open and the hall light on and my bedroom light on. Sigh. And I think I might again tonight.

Thursday, August 12, 2004


Let us play pretend
I will be
you perfect princess
and you can be
knight in shining armor.
And alas,
I will be
everything you have
always wanted,
and you for me.
We can play dress up,
and go all around town,
with me on your arm,
with you at my side.
And everything will be
Oh yes,
everything will be
just fine.
So come on
over to me
and we can play

Wednesday, August 11, 2004

Glimpses of things I knew.

Other than the usual pre-work pouting, I am full of yellow, jubilant feelings. Mostly. I am wearing my new pink shirt, well, the majority of my shirts are pink. Anyway, this makes me happy. And I got a paper shredder that I just finished playing with. Fun stuff. And. . . I remembered my dream again. Why am I always running from something in my dreams? I think maybe this is something I need to confront. What am I avoiding or who? I am confused. I guess I need to spend some time getting to know myself better. Okay, I know exactly what I am running from. I wont tell you though, it just might be you (depending on who you are, of course.)

I miss you Ashley! I got to see you for only two or three minutes today, and that was the beginning of the happiness. I will give you my schedule when I get off work today! Lets do something!

My dream involved carbon monoxide, danger, not being able to touch the ground, being underground, working as a team, strategy, pillows, various pieces of furniture, rats, and a shiitsu massage chair ( I do not know how to spell it.) I don't even know what it was about. I only remember scenes and emotions and glimpses of things I knew. Ah well.

Tuesday, August 10, 2004

What you call yourself.

The poison of your mood has infected me. I can feel it spreading through my body. The blackness. And you did it on purpose. Stop looking at me like that. Stop talking to me like that. I do not want to share this pain with you tonight. I will not share this burden with you. You take so eagerly of my joy, share so quickly your fowl mood. I keep you at arms length because you claw at me. No one can hurt me like you can. Innocent. That is what you call yourself. But you are stained and you look to stain me as well. I am not like you. I am innocent. I am innocent. I am innocent.

Dear whatever-your-name-is,

I cleaned my room today. I went through the numerous piles of random paper for hours. I found some very old, very bad poetry from seventh grade. I cringed. I read old homework assignments and all my college junk mail. I found paycheck stubs, birthday cards, to-do lists, junk mail, books, poems, stories, random sentences, notes from my friends, and even my collective doodling from all of high school. It was interesting. I even found a diary I started writing to my future husband.

Okay, I guess that last one requires some explanation. I went to an abstinence seminar thingy to see Eric and Leslie Ludey (Leslie was sick and couldn't make it.) Anyway, one of the ideas of the program was to live everyday as if your future spouse were watching you, so that you never did anything you would regret to tell them. How would he feel if he saw me doing this or that with another guy? That kind of thing. So, I started a diary for him so that he could really watch me and see how faithful I had been. (Of course, no temptation has ever fallen into my lap anyway.) I got embarrassed for myself as I read those words I wrote so long ago. Maybe I will marry someone someday who will appreciate the thought. But, like most things I start, I grew tired of it and stopped writing in it soon after I started. Oh well.

Anyway, that was the most exciting thing I did today. I am done sharing things just for now.

The liquid blackness of forever.

One of the muscles in one of my fingers was twitching a minute ago. I was completely entertained watching my very own finger move without my permission. Why did it do that?

Anyway, that is not why I came here to post. I wanted to say how beautiful the sky is today. I love days when the sky is blue and the clouds are fluffy. Cloudless days are boring. And the sky at night, wow. I like to be out in the country with no streetlights. The sky is so much better there. Of course, I have never been in the real country, and I have no desire to. This city is just the right size for me.

Sometimes up into the sky I feel so. . . in place. The eternal depth of the universe comforts me. I think heaven might very well be just floating in the vastness of it. I do not want to believe that there is no more life in the universe. That would make me sad. I hope one day we can colonize other, far off planets. I want to be there, out in the alien worlds. Maybe I wont talk about that anymore just now.

When I stare out into the sky, I am mesmerized. My eyes could never absorb the beauty, and try as I might, my memories never do the sky justice. But then, it is there for me always. I could not say enough about it, could not see it long enough, could never do it justice. I will stop here then.

(My finger is twitching again.)

Emotions as colors.

Here I am arguing with myself again today. I feel things that I cannot control, and no rationalization can make them go away. And I have discussed this before, but that is no end to the discussions I have in my head about it. You own this emotion and I cannot take it back from you.

Sometimes I go back and read my poetry again, or my blog again, and I find that what I have said before is the same thing I still say in my mind. Once I put language to a thought, it stays in language. So I'll be talking in my head thinking, " I sit here in anticipation of the next thing you will say. I play your words over in my mind and again because . . ." (June 28) I guess that means that I am being honest. I was never very good at letting people see what I think, what I feel.

This girl at work always says, "I love you" to me. Not in a weird way or anything. I tell Betty I love her all the time because I do. But I don't say it casually to some girl I do not like. And she keeps saying it to me and I just look at her. It took me a long time to tell my friends that I loved them. I guess that those words are slow in coming for me. I don't want to say it if I don't mean it. And then, when I do mean it, I say it often. I say it randomly. Not always the mandatory, "Bye, I love you." "Thank you, I love you"

I had another eventful dream last night. It involved road trips, Mexico, Canada, road racing, a multi-car accident, drive-by shootings, Satan, alien technology, spirits leaving bodies, emotions as colors, Ashley C., illegal immigrants, a strange man and his dog, and Joanie. Ill tell you about it sometime if you care, I just don't want to spend another half and hour typing it out.

Well, that was all that my blog-to-do-list-in-my-head contained.

I will talk at you later.

Singing in my head: "Punk Rawk Show"-MXPX

Monday, August 09, 2004

How much power do you have? (I'll never tell.)

Wow, I was in such a bad mood today. It was my fault mostly. I expected the people that usually piss me off to piss me off before I even saw them. Of course, they did not prove me wrong or anything, but I could have saved the bad mood for at least two hours. Yeah. Ugh.

I'm in a much better mood now, here at home in my bubble. I like it here.

So I was really thinking about deleting that last post, but I wont, because I want to.

I have trouble getting close to people. I don't let people in because I am afraid they will hurt me. And well, sometimes they do. But then I guess, if you don't hurt one another, are you really getting closer? How can we find all the buttons not to push if we don't push them first? I don't know. I'm just a hermit crab. I am always hiding.

I even hide here. I don't tell you names. Keeps me safe. Maybe you cant hurt me if you don't know what power you have. Because it gives someone power over me when I say I like you, or I love you. That gives them the power to cause me pain or happiness. Most people are ignorant of this.

I am sensitive. I hide it well. I pretend it didn't matter. It matters a lot to me. Maybe when you forget something really important to me. Or when you don't seem interested in what I'm saying. Ill just stop talking and then you will missing something important that I might have said. I say too much when people listen to me. I feel comfortable and I just keep talking. I show them a little more and it is power too. Someone showed me that today.

Just a name I told her and she hurt me with it. I was ashamed of myself. I talk too much. If I had stopped talking sooner, I would not have said the name, and she would have not power. As it is, here I am scared to death and mad at her. Ill never tell her another thing again, you can bet that. It was the name of a boy I used to like. I said it to her. I was writing a poem. Maybe I shouldn't say that, but I will. I was writing a poem about how I hadn't said the name in years, but it was always in my head, a living memory of a feeling. And she asked me the name. I told her. She said it very loud in front of everyone. I told her to be quiet. She said it louder. People turned around and looked at me. Did one of them know him? I don't know. I was embarrassed and red-faced from it and anger and I turned and walked away without another word because that's what I do when I am mad. She called to me but I did not turn around. I can still feel the heat on my face. Now I cant remember what I was talking about.

Oh yes, so she was reason enough for me to see that I shouldn't tell people things. Anything. But I don't want to do that. I don't want to live in a bubble of safety. I might get hurt but then I might feel something real in the process.

Did I ever say how nervous it makes me feel when someone looks right into my eyes when I talk to them? I love it and it scares me at the same time. I am afraid that they will see everything, and they just might, but then it is like they really care, like they actually take the time to look for me. I went out to lunch with Sarah a while ago and she did that. That made me feel like she was a real friend. A true friend.

My dad looks like that when he is drunk and going into one of those long religious discussions with me and I hate it. I wonder if he can see the disgust on my face. He is not my father after he starts drinking, he becomes someone else. So I come upstairs. I think I'll just save the rest of that for therapy when I'm thirty.

I do love him when he is not drinking, aka: before eight o'clock. He is a great dad then. But then, nothing he does before eight o'clock can make me forget the rest.

Well, I have already said too much for tonight.

Why I am afraid of boys.(And other ramblings.)

I am feeling things today. I was happy this morning, watching Elisabeth play. I was content this afternoon, working. I was satisfied and self-conscious and good at Ashleys birthday party. That was nice. It was nice to see Rachel and Katy and Ashley all together, in the same spot. That was fun, laying on the picnic table, hiding behind the tree, just being together. Thank you. And I was glad when it was over too. I am not very social, you know. I love to see people for a little while, and then I am ready to go. But, I was very glad Rachel invited me to watch a movie with her. I never did like watching movies with friends. It was always like, I have a limited amount of time with friends and I do not want to spend it sitting next to them and not talking, but this was fun. I had my social time with her, and then we could relax and be comfortable and share something together. I never thought of it that way before, just sharing an experience. It was nice to see everyone in the group and then it was nice to see Rachel alone. It was comfortable. This made me happy. I like people. I like doing things with people, even if it is sitting at a picnic table in smith park talking about eighth grade English class. Sigh. I am gonna miss you guys. So much.

But then, we cant be what we were anymore. I cant be that girl and neither can you. And while it is awfully nice remembering, we cant do that forever, and thats all it is, remembering. We are all different and I can feel it when we are together. We arent in the same place anymore and we are using memories to fill the gap. We wont be friends forever, I know this, and maybe that is a good thing. I cant grow if I always have someone expecting me to be the girl I was in middle school, in high school. Yes, we had good times, but we are not those children anymore. I dont want to be.

I love you. Each one of you. I will always love you because I will always remember what you were when we were together. No matter how much you change, you will always be my good memories.

I am scared to death to meet new people, to make new friendships. I have grown oh so comfortable here, but you are going away from me, and I from you. I cant live forever clinging to the thing we made then. I want to do that terrifying ritual of getting to know someone, but man am I frightened.

New Subject
My emotions are so unpredictable. I know I dont want to feel this, but then I cannot control how I feel. When I think of you, I feel this way. When I think of her, I feel this way. When I think of him, I feel this way.

And boys are a mystery to me. I only talk to a very few. There were only two boys I never feared. I do not know what made them different, but they were. They were my friends. Maybe if I could figure out what I was afraid of, then I would know why I didnt fear them. They made me comfortable, completely comfortable. And I could tell the one anything. And they other I could be mean to. He made me comfortable by not being afraid of making me uncomfortable. He touched me, without my permission, and often and I hated it. I told him as much, and he stopped sometimes. (Im not talking about petting or anything like that.) But he was annoying. The other one, what was it? I dont know. I feel sorry for what he is now, what he became.
(Relient K - What have you been doin lately?) Makes me sad.

So anyway, I was talking about boys. I have never had a boyfriend, not really. There was a boy in eight grade that asked me out and I said no, and then some other girl bullied me into saying yes to him. He made me hold his hand when we walked out of class. It embarrassed me and made me uncomfortable. And that was the end of the whole affair. Its funny. I didn't want to go out with him, I liked another boy. And I wish I hadn't, because then I wouldn't have to tell this whole story. (If I didn't tell the whole story then I would feel like I was lying when I said I have never had a boyfriend.) I tell you this because I don't tell people this, and I want to tell these things to someone. I have never had a boyfriend, and it makes me feel inadequate. Like, I am not good enough for any boy to want to go out with. This is my feeling. I think this is why I am afraid of boys. I think I have some terrible flaw that the boys all see and they are trying their best to be nice around me. I can deal with girls. Most girls like me. Boys, on the other hand, are a mystery, and they scare me to death.

And then what happens when I finally do go out with someone? I don't know what to do. I never went out on a date or kissed a boy. I have never talked to a boy on the phone. I've never done anything. Are there things I am supposed to know? I just cant believe I'm going to be in college and be this ignorant. And then, I am going to be the same me that I have been. What if I never meet anyone? What if I grow old and never get married and live by myself forever? What will I do then? Or even worse, what if I cling to the first guy that pays attention to me, be it loser or abuser or drunk? I have seen both of these things happen, and they both scare me to death.

I don't want to tell everyone this. I don't want to show all my vulnerable, scared parts, but I need to. I don't know what everyone else feels, but this is me. Do with it what you will. I just feel better having written it all out. Its easier when I can put things in concrete words instead of haunting images and emotions and monsters in my head. When I can name them, maybe later I can face them.

Feeling more lonely than ever.

Sunday, August 08, 2004

Whatever it was.

Tonight I was thinking about what we used to be, what we might have been without one another. Wow, we have grown up so much since then, in Mr. Parks class getting all the answers from the teachers edition. With Precious Mimi making us read Where the Red Fern Grows by tape, aka: sleeping in class. Walking in the rain in D.C. and against the wind in Chicago. Messing up spanish food recipe's (cantaloupe juice?) and me spilling grape juice concentrate all over the place. Pairing up in Senorita Benedums class, and Ashley and Kate getting mad because we said they were slow. And remember Mrs. Boggies class? And then Mrs. Bremer. I love that women. Even more recently, you giving our cars STDs. And singing, "Your mom's a wh***" at the top of my lungs when someone's mom walked in. The orangutans. I forget so much. You always remember everything. Ah, it makes me laugh and then cry. God it was awful. God it was wonderful.

Saturday, August 07, 2004

What happens when you stay up late reading science fiction.

I had a very weird dream the other night and I don't think I should share it with you, someone might laugh at me or do the equivalent in their head, but I want to remember and this is the best place I cant think to do so.

I was running. No, it didn't start out that way. I was in a crowd of people. It was a crowd of the last people, I know. We were what was left, and we were hiding. Then "they" found us. I am not sure who or what this "they" was, but I was running and trying to hide. I ran into a building/patio type thing and climbed up one of the poles and layed on top of one of the support beams. Then this magical thing happened. (Wow, when I wrote "magical thing" the screen shook and changed colors like there was a power surge, but there wasn't. Weird) Anyway, I started to sink into the support beam like it was sand, but it was wood. It formed itself around me like a tube. Others were hiding on top of the beams and I told them and they began to sink into the beams too. The tube completely enclosed me and it was dark but safe. We crawled through the tubes for awhile. I do not know how we chose direction, but we did. Suddenly we were outside and the tubes were clear. We were crawling through a playground, and children were there and they didn't see us. Then the tube became dark again and got smaller. It got very small. I was scared. And then we were at the end of the tube. It dropped into a basement somewhere and we were safe. It disappeared as soon as we excited and we were safe. Other stuff happened too, but it just continued to get weirder. I just wanted to remember this part. This was the most real dream I have ever had. I could feel the grain of the wood. I could feel the sides of it growing up around me, enclosing my snuggly. I could feel the air get warmer when the tube sealed up. I remember the relief and the wonder.

*I don't know who it was I was trying to escape.
*I don't know who was included in the "we"
*If "we" were the last people, and "they" were chasing us, why were the children playing safely on the playground?
*What does this mean, if anything?
*I think this book was a result of the marriage of "Robot City" series and "Xenocide" by Orson Scott Card. And the Carebears. And "Battlefield Earth" And reading before bed.
*I think I should back off on the science fiction.
Yeah right.

Sometimes Speechless

Sometimes I speak to you in poetry, when I am afraid to say it plainly. Sometimes I speak to you in prose, because I want to remember what I say. Sometimes I speak to you in prayer, because you are the only one who would understand. Sometimes I speak to you in silence, because what I would say, you already know. Sometimes I do not speak to you at all, because I am weaker than I pretend to be. Sometimes when I speak to you, it is because I think you are the only one listening. Sometimes I speak to you because I do not truly believe you exist. Sometimes I speak to you and I really mean me. Sometimes I speak to you and I really mean he (those things I fear to say to him) Sometimes I speak to you because I only want to talk. Sometimes I speak and say "you" and I do not mean you at all. Sometimes I mean everyone. Sometimes I mean no one. Sometimes I mean the one I have not yet met. Or the one that does not exist. Sometimes, I do not know what I am saying. Sometimes I am afraid of me, all the secrets I could tell about myself. It scares me that my secrets, all you know. A song once said that you would love me "even when you come undone" and that, leaves me speechless.


You are just a shadow
of a silhouette
of an image
of what I thought
I wanted.
You are just a teaser
showing me glimpses
of what I think
I've always needed.
You have got me entranced
and enchanted.
I can't stop waiting
and watching you.
I'm hooked on you.
Every word,
I savor
and remember
and play again in my head.
I want to know you more.
I am afraid
to move a little closer
or let you see
(how you have fascinated me.)
I fear
more than anything
that I would tell you
and not be

"Or anything but . . ."

I want it. I have wanted it for awhile. I am not sure if I am supposed to wait for it longer or not, but the opportunity to have it is not here anymore, so I must wait. I might have had it, or something very near it, if I had been brave, or honest. I think sometimes those two amount to the same thing with me. But then, it might have been wrong, and I might have ruined it altogether. I can wait longer, I guess, if there is a promise that eventually it will come to me. If not, I do not think I want to keep it on this pedestal anymore. If not, I will settle for something less, something cheaper, maybe something only temporarily fulfilling. Because, if I never get it, then I will never be fulfilled. But then, there is this whisper of a promise in my ear, that yes, I will have it. Yes, I deserve it. Yes, it can and will come to me. Oh please do. But as always, in the other ear, I hear whispers too. I am not good enough for that. This will never be given to me. I might as well settle. Life it too short to wait for things. I should give up now. What is the point in hoping? It never helped anything. Alas, I made of stronger stuff than that. I will wait.

Friday, August 06, 2004

There is no phone in my room (or upstairs for that matter.)

Hello. Wow, I'm tired. I just got off work. I like working days, I can still have a life afterwards. Yeah, so I stayed up too late last night reading Asimov. . . Again. Oh well, if that was my worst addiction, I think I would be alright, but its not worse, because I don't see it as bad. The phone is ringing and no one is answering it. I guess Ill have to go see who it was. I'm spending the night somewhere else tonight, so I wont post again this evening.

All my love. . .

Thursday, August 05, 2004

Tornadoes, Hurricanes and Such

I am in a better mood for now. The anger and hurt have worn down. Once again, they have slipped beneath the more important emotions that I choose to feel: contentedness, happiness, joyfulness. I try to follow Phil. 4:8-9 as best as I can. (If you don't remember what that is, I posted it on July 7th) Sigh. I'm tired now. Crying really takes it out of me. Yawn.

I purchased some bumper stickers on eBay. I got three of them: Satan Sucks, I hate Evil, and Born Again. I mostly like the Satan sucks, but they came in a group of three. I got them for two dollars so I thought it was a good deal. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that the emotional storm has passed for the day. (Love You.)

Wednesday, August 04, 2004

I'm glad she can't use the internet.

I'm full of angry red emotions right now. All my mother ever wants from me is money. Its like she does something nice for me so that I will give her money. I'm so frustrated. I don't have money. I need to save for china, not support her habit. It makes me feel like she only loves me when I'm giving her something. It makes me afraid of every nice thing she does for me becuase I wonder how much it is going to cost me. It makes me feel that she loves her "medicine" more than she loves me. And I hate it. Nothing I ever do will be more important to her than her pain pills. No matter how great a daughter I try to be I will never measure up to her addiction, and its killing me. And then she goes and tells me that I dont appreciate anything and that she always takes such good care of me and that she cant believe that she puts up with the way I treat her. And she says, " Your just like your daddy" and I hate it. And I hate her for it. She is the only human being I know that is capable of sucking all the life out of me like this. I dont want to live here another day. I cant do this anymore. My heart is at war with itself. I love my mother, and I hate what she does to me. I love my family, and I hate how this makes me feel. I want to stay here forever, and I feel I cant do this anymore. I have plenty of places to go and no place that will ever be home. I have this great hurt inside of me and its threatning to consume me and I cant hide it anymore. She makes me feel so shallow, like its all about the money. Its not about the money, its about our relationship. Its about me. Its about her. I wish it would all go away. Oh world, dissolve into nothingness for me. No arms could make this pain abate. No words could curb its sting. I am so ashamed to tell anyone, like her addiction is my fault, my shame. Like it makes me less of a person. Then, I feel so defensive and upset if anyone says anything bad about her. I love her too. I tell her how I feel and it just rolls off of her like its nothing. My feeling arent important. Im just being a drama queen. Im just trying to make her mad. Yes, thats exactly what Im doing. My heart isnt really breaking. Our relationship isnt really falling apart. Im not really drowning in all of this. It was all a ploy to make her feel bad, because its all about her.

We need a haircut.

Funny thing today, a man caught me talking to myself. I smiled and kept up my end of the conversation. (I am crazy, after all.) Ice cream space bubble orange juice pajama bottoms furry sounding pickle nickle cerebrum thrumming crunchily down the sky way highway my way your way uraguay your gay my say hey hey say neigh by the way you may good day che che yay yay paraguay today not so gay bengay in the way Snakes

Monday, August 02, 2004

Small Explosion

I spent some time last night reading through some of my old poetry. I was embarrassed at myself. It was great. On one hand, I thought that I should burn it all for fear that it fall into the wrong hands one day. But, on the other hand it was concrete evidence that I have indeed grown as a writer. Oh well, and back on my bookshelf it went.
(I know I already told you this next part, but bear with me, Ash.)
Oh, something interesting happened today. I had a small explosion take place in my car. Now, I am aware of the fact that there are small explosions taking place every moment the car is on, hence: internal combustion, but this one was not supposed to take place. Apparently, one of the spark plugs came loose and popped out of its housing with a loud bang, incinerating the insulation on the inside of the hood and causing smoke to then pour out of the front of my car. Needless to say, I was shocked and soon sought mechanical advice. Surprisingly enough, the problem cost only two dollars to fix. It sure seemed like something more major than two dollars, but I'm not complaining.

Also, one of my favorite authors released a new book today, which I purchased right away. I am enjoying it very much. And this is why I must leave you. (I'll be finished with it in no time so that you can read it.)

Detective Work.

Someone was in my room while I was gone today. I first knew this because my bedroom door was open, and I always close it when I leave. I don't want the cigarette smoke to stink up my room, and if I leave the door closed, there are less bugs. I hate bugs. Then , I found further evidence when I saw that the phone line was plugged in. I always unplug the phoneline for extra security. Third, the curtain on the window by my computer is different. All three of these clues point to only one conclusion, someone was in my room today.
Thanks for caring enough about me to read my ramblings.
Anyway, I must not have much of a life if I know the exact position of the curtains. Another supporting fact would be that I am here, in this chair, every night. What a loser. I think I need a new hobby. I think that this blog is the most interesting thing that has happened to me all summer. Heh. Man, that curtain is really bothering me. Loser.

Sunday, August 01, 2004

No Face

Sometimes, I cannot help but be disappointed with people. It seems I see a glimpse of something beautiful, or maybe just something I want to see, I want to happen. But then, inevitably, the beauty is quickly covered by the next word or action. Why are we so vulnerable, so afraid of one another? Because we are so capable of hurting each other.
(I would never intentionally cause you pain. )
I do not know the future. I can only know what I hope to happen in the vague promise of tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. I hope that eventually I will find someone I am not afraid of. No, that's not what I mean. I hope I find someone that I trust enough to overcome my fears of them. And I almost thought I had, for a day, for a few days, but. . . Disappointment.
(Maybe that glimpse will come again, I pray)
Why I am saying these things, I do not know. I needed these words to be said and had no face to share them with.

Tell me yesterday.

Tell me yesterday
what I did not see today.
I know that time is not
a straight line
it never has been
with us.
It has mixed up
my memories;
I do not remember
what you said
or how it made me feel.
I almost remember that
moment between us,
or that was a movie
and I just
really wished it so.
That intense blue
and the chill
of the rain
slowly fade
into lukewarm
black and white
and now
I cannot see your face
when I close my eyes.
And I cannot hear
you voice
or the rhythm of
your breathing.
(I will always remember
the texture of your skin)
So please,
tell me yesterday
because I cannot see

This is a test.

Maybe I don't exist. I might just be a character in a book someone is writing. Maybe I'm just a long dream. That would explain a lot of things, I think. Maybe you don't exist. I know this, you are not a figment of my imagination, you surprise me too much. This is a test: if I'm not real, you are making me up. What am I going to say next? Your name.


Excuse me.