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Mar. 12th, 2012


I haven't posted to this blog in quite sometime, but I am holding on to something that I need to get off my chest. I have recently learned of some wrongs perpetrated onto one of my loved ones. I was filled with blinding rage upon this discovery. I have that feeling that I need to break things, and if the villainous malefactor were in front of me, it would be his spine. Just FYI, if you hurt my family- either blood or chosen- I will end you. It may not me an immediate reaction, but one day this rage will boil over until I see your repugnant face in front of me and I implode. Like a train set in it's tracks, there will only be one action for me, one course to follow, and it will be to tear you apart, slowly until you perish, not directly from my actions, but because you can no longer bear the pain of living. You have crossed me before, do not cross me again, for it may be the last thing you do.

Disclaimer: This blog post is meant solely as writing therapy to express my anger, not as a plan of action.

Sep. 1st, 2011

Check this out!

My friends, Man On Earth (manonearth.com) came out with this awesome vidoe fr the gret song "I'd be good for you" This is the video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HVbFA8VeTog I am in it! You should check it, and lie it, and share it and stuff.

Jul. 17th, 2011


I don't even know where to start with this one. I feel like I am forgetting to breathe. I guess I'll start with the basics. The reason I can't breathe is because my cousin is no longer with us. He was so young and such an amazing person, there will be a hole in the world without him. My uncle raised two awesome, unique, thoughtful, spiritual, great kids. I never met their mom, but when they were about 8 and 10 my Aunt came into the picture, and began raising them as well. Ben was a great kid. I'm not crazy about most kids but he and Jon, I loved right away. Ben was funny, full of energy and ideas, anytime you were with him, you were having fun. As he grew up he calmed down a bit, but remained the person we all loved. I wish I could have known him better. I never realized I'd have a limited window of time to be with him, none of us did. The older generations are supposed to go first, we should never have to say goodbye to our sons, daughters, little brothers and sisters, cousins, nieces, nephew or friend's children. Ben wasn't a child, but he certainly shouldn't be gone.

Ben was Bi-Polar. He must have been going through a hell of a down when he committed suicide. One would think there were many things to look forward to- his brother just had a child, he was being offered modeling jobs, his best childhood friend was moving home- but I guess it wasn't enough to latch on to. I wish I could have told him I loved him, or even just given him a hug. I know it wouldn't have saved him, it's purely selfish. I don't even remember the last thing I said to him.

His funeral is on Tuesday. I can't handle it. I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't know what any of us will do without that amazing person there. Ben lit up rooms and made you smile, just because he was there. His neighbors have candles lit all around the apartment, and together are keeping them lit. They didn't even have him that long, and this is the impact he left on them. I can only imagine what John and Bob (His brother and father)are going through.

My family and I are pretty spiritual, we believe in ghosts and such. On Ben's modeling photos, he was surrounded by orbs(round figures believed to be representations of spirits). Always a huge one and many normal size ones. We think it was him being called home. It makes me think it was his time. It's still hard to lose such an amazing person so young.

He volunteered at the Animal Rescue League. We are asking for donations to that cause instead of flowers. If anyone reads this and decides to donate, please let me know. It would be amazing to let my family know that, through these words, he touched other peoples hearts.

The picture included is of a tent on a cloud. Ben loved the outdoors and camping, and my weird little mind turned it into this tattoo.

Feb. 22nd, 2011

Building emotional walls

I've been told a couple times this week that I seem to have it all together, emotionally speaking. The truth is I feel anything but together, like what once was together is in fact crumbling apart. I've spent so much of my life building up these walls that I'm the only one who truly sees whats inside. Some trespassers get a rare glimpse.

I think the reason must be that when I was a child I cried at the drop of a hat, in fact I still do, but then I didn't run and hide. I just cried. I got teased alot for it and was told I had "emotional problems" whatever that means. Without realizing it I started building these walls, packed them up around me brick by brick. The inside is utter mush but at least the outside looks strong.

Tonight I was having a conversation with a friend about why people hide their true feelings. I told him, "The truth is ugly and nobody cares." This surprised even me but I have felt like no one cares. Everyone has their own bullshit to wade through, they don't need yours on top of that. If you are lucky you have a small group of people that will let you vent or that tolerate you when you crumble, but I do feel like you've got to rely on yourself primarily. I realize that sounds very cynical, but it seems like the truth. That is why I keep this blog. To let out the feelings I have nowhere else to go with. It's like emotional storage. Saving it here until I need it again.

This friend's suggested solution was that I get out my bulldozer, but I'm not sure that's something I can do. What would that entail? When I need to cry or bitch and moan I just do it to whoever will listen? That sounds like a surefire way to make people stop listening.

Jan. 25th, 2011

No Mississippi, No Thank You.

So I never moved to Mississippi. My boyfriend told me, "If you love me enough to go, I love you enough to stay." That was very sweet of him. Wait did I say boyfriend? I meant ex- boyfriend. Guess its good I didn't go after all huh? After I told my friends I wasn't going I found out that one of them was prepared to get in his tour van and drive down and kidnap me.
Really sir? I had no idea you actually cared about me enough to kidnap me. It's good to know because I care enough about him to kidnap him. I once gave this boy gum that said, "Hi, I'm a douchebag" on the box. We have an odd friendship. One time we were at a bar and I was bouncing in my seat to a song. Two seconds later he wrote a new song. He proudly sang, "bounce on a seat, bounce on a rock, bounce on something that looks like a cock." This just so happened to be the day I met the ex.
Anyway back to the ex. We had been talking for 5 months as friends. 3 months as whatever you consider texting each other every waking minute having conversations about sex and what life together would be like and random things. I guess thats why moving in didn't feel quick. It felt like we had been together for a long time.
Our first date was at Mr I"m-going-to-come-to-Mississippi-to-kidnap-you's show. It was a good night. We had dinner with two of my friends, we had coupley cuddle time at the concert,I got a nice goodnight kiss that made me not want to say goodnight. Whatever issues we had as a couple- that was not one. I always felt very loved and got alot of affection.
Then I bussed up to see him- distance was always a big issue with us. Spent two whole wonderful days together. We went to breakfast, the movies, shopping, dinner, then he took me to a place where there were christmas lights and things all around, beautifully decorated. It was really beautiful and sweet. I met his sister and his grandma. His family is hilarious. I fell in love with Bella, his sister's dog- the sweetest dog in the world. Next day he drove me home and we did some fun things around here, went to the pagoda, went shopping again. Whatever we could do to spend some more time together. It was a great weekend.
The last date we ever had- ended where it began. At the same kidnapper's show. It was soldout, packed. I left to walk my friend to her car- bad neighborhood- and spent the rest of the night trying to get back to him. I finally tried again on my own. Walking down the dangerous alleyway some drunk asshole came at me. He tried to grab me. The bouncers watched. I ran. I wont ever go back to that place because of that night. I finally got back in and couldnt find him. We were about to leave when he walked through with his ex's family. I knew they were going to be there but it sucked because I finally found him and I couldnt really talk to him. That night he almost broke up with me. Instead he got drunk and made out with his ex. I decided to forgive him. I shouldnt have. We did nothing but fight for the next two weeks. He broke up with me and right away asked me to take him back. I shouldnt have. He broke up with me one final time. I decided after a couple days we could still be friends. Writing this I dont know why. I dont know why I didnt run screaming and crying. I'm just stupid for him I guess.

Dec. 14th, 2010

move it or lose it. I chose move it.

I was just reading back some old blogs and it occurs to me that alot has changed since my last post. That guy that fell for me- I fell back. We had our first date, we are having our second one tomorrow hopefully. I told my dad about him which is a big step for me. This morning he asked me to move with him... to Mississippi. I really didnt want to at first but then I realized if love is in MS then it cant be so bad. I know I know, we've only had one date thats so fast. except we've been talking for 4 months and alot of that time has been coupley. So its like weve been together without being together if that makes any kind of sense. my family doesnt know yet. My friends are supportive but unhappy. I'm going to miss so many people. I'm nervous. But I cant be without him so... Mississippi it is.

Nov. 10th, 2010

Novemeber- quit being mean.

So if you read my last post you know I spent the first four days of November in the hospital. Yesterday I underwent dental surgery and this morning I got horrible news. (And then I fell in the shower, and then I burnt myself making lunch, and then I burnt the food.) Which has me saying, "Okay November- it's enough!"

The bad news has me more upset than everything else combined. About 3 months ago my friends in this band called Dive (facebook.com/dive) played a tattoo convention. I went and got a tattoo and had a lot of fun and we all went out and partied afterwards too. That night I started talking to the guy who had organized the whole event. So over the last three months we started talking alot and he became one of my best friends. We've had good talks and he helped me out so much after the whole hospital ordeal and he has been an all around great friend. Over time it became clear to me that he had maybe a little crush on me or something. He asked me some vague questions about me and relationships and I told him that I wasn't ready for anything. I was just getting over the idea of this other guy and in general I suck at relationships. I thought he understood. Last night he told me loved me. I thought he meant like a friend or maybe a little bit more.

This morning he told me everything he feels about me and that he had to stop talking to me so he could straighten himself out. I felt like my whole world flipped upside down. I started crying but I didn't let him know. I didn't want him to feel worse. I wanted to tell him that I love him too just not the way he needs me too but I didn't want to make matters worse. The truth is I do love him a great deal and if the timing on it were better... I don't know. Maybe? I wish things didn't have to change. I simply am not ready. I wish I had my friend back, instead all I have is this pit in my stomach telling me I will never get him back.

Nov. 5th, 2010

Finding Sane

So I'm just a chick living her life right? Yeah so then I come down with this awful thing called Menengitis. Basically there are 2 forms of it one is really dangerous and gross, the other is slightly less dangerous and gross. So I spent 4 and a half days in a hospital bed trying to get better. I got out about this time yesterday. I hate the hospital but when I got home I lost my frigging mind. I cried for a couple hours, but I'm lucky that its not worse or permanent. So here's what happened/ what I remember. When I get this Menengitis (had it once before) it comes with brain swelling and I get into a funk. I don't know what it looks like but I imagine I look like a zombie waiting there for my marching orders. I sit dormant until someone interacts. I am told to do something and I try to do it or acknowledge it but generally I don't acomplish whatever task, even as simple as taking a shower. I can't do it. It's not that I dont remember what a shower is or how to take one, but I glitch. Instead I sit in the bathroom, fully clothed thinking if I give it a second the person telling me to do this will go away. I'm not even coherent enough to turn on the faucet and fake it. I just sit there and then check to see if she's still standing outside of the door. Now, its not that I normally have anything wrong with showering, its just that zombie me doesnt care about it- or anything. So I leave the bathroom and she is standing there expecting me to turn back around and actually do it right this time. I think she yelled at me to get in the tub. I wish she knew she could have threatened death and it still wouldnt have seeped in through this thick stupid zombie facade. So I imagine for her its like trying to move a mannequin to do things because they cant do them on their own, except she is talking to a person and therefore must be extra frustrating. But she doesn't relize what it's like to actually BE the zombie.

I hear someone talking to me. I get the jist of what she is saying. Nothing. I dont have any emotions or thoughts of my own and I barely react. Thinking back about being the zombie is scary as hell. What if the house was on fire? I would have sat there and burned thinking "why is everything so bright and hot?" I was home alone for the first part of this zombie stupor. I think of all the things that could have happened and I would have just tagged along for whatever ride life was going to take me on.

I remember actually being in the shower early that day- it must have been right in the begining because I successfully got in the tub and turned the shower on. I remember sitting there for what felt like an hour rocking back and forth in the shower. The water pressure seemed off. I could tell, I looked at the shower head but didnt know what to do so I just hugged myself in and rocked under the water. I think now- maybe I was trying to wake myself up. Get myself out of the funk- save myself.

I don't remember how I ever got out or dried off or clothed myself. And that gets me thinking- did it ever happen? Did I imagine everything? I remember too much for it not to have happened right? I remember trying to brush my hair, giving up and putting it up in a bun. A big wet tangled knot of hair. I must have looked insane. This whole ordeal makes me feel like I've lost it. So then I spend the next 4 and a half days alone in a room with some machines hooked to me. Just me and the tv. Not a way to stop feeling like a loon. The hospital stay was like most are I assume. Regular horrible meals, beeping machines, regular checks on blood pressure and whatnot. It was all rather boring and unspectacular- the way hospitals are supposed to be.

When I got home I started reconnecting with friends and thinking and crying. And crying and crying... I miss everybody and everything but I can't do anything. I cry and I sleep and I feel like a robot- time to take your pills, time to eat. From zombie to robot in less than a week. Hmm. I prefer robot. Its a weird thing to document your every move but I think its the safe/sane way out. I need a little regulation so that I can have a better future. Regulation now equals health and happiness later. I don't know. I don't know how I'll feel about this later but for now I'm okay. I am okay. I will be okay. Its weird to think or type that, but I think its true. Hmm.

Oct. 28th, 2010

in my head

I want to write something meaningful here and all I can think is jigga wugga jug jigga wugga jug jigga wuggga jug. It's a reference to the teen girl squad. So anyway... I got myself a Spoon cd today. Gimme Fiction. It's pretty good. My favorite songs are Sister Jack and I turn my camera on. The check out guy actually knew who they were. I wanted to say something to him but my brain no worky. I don't know why but in the last couple months I got the question "why are you single" about 4 or 5 times. Ugh really? I don't know how to answer that without writing a novel. I think it basically boils down to I'm too fucking crazy. Cuz that's what the guy asking wants to hear. Well- it's the truth. Is it so wrong that I'm single? I don't think so. I think it's probably the best decision I've made recently. If I can fall so hard for someone that disnt fall back, and that in honesty I baarely knew- what would the end of an actual relationship do to me? Boys are to stupid to die over. I sound like a 15 year old writing this. I am not. But it's just what frame of mind and mood I am in right now. This isn't where I expected to be at this age. Stupid for a guy I never dated, without a job, sad and alone like ALL the time, crying at the drop of a hat. I feel alone in a house full of people. I feel left out among my friends, I think some of my friends dont even care about me. I feel like every time I'm attracted to someone, someone I know is trying to horn in. its all more trouble than its worth-life. But then there are some good times, some good people. they are mostly people that live in freaking New York or even farther away. I found out tonight that a friend of mine might be moving to LA. It's the first time had a good conversation with him and I loved every second of it and now he's moving and I fucking cried at that too. I feel like everyone leaves and if they haven't left yet they're just barely there, waiting to leave.

I feel misunderstood all the time. I think people look at me when I say stuff like an adult looks at a child when they say something ridiculous. It's pretty much constant and thats not even stuff I think but am afraid to say. I need a friend who thinks exactly like me so we can talk to each other, and if possible can it please be someone who's not going to want to fuck the same people I want to fuck? where is that person? If you read this- if you actually got this far- could you do me a favor? leave me a comment. it doesnt have to be about anything I said here, it can be you venting to me, it can be random, it can be anonymous if you want. cuz maybe we can listen to each others stupid ideas, crazy talk and emoness. :) I <3 U.

Oct. 12th, 2010

Broken Strings

So there is this writer that I quite enjoy called John Green. Technically he writes for young adults and I am just plain adult, but it's not the type of young adult fiction that is "dumbed down." He treats his readers as intelligent, thoughtful human beings. I find it appropriate for just plain adults like myself as well as his intended audience. You can find John Green on Youtube as one half of the nerdiness that is the Vlogbrothers. He and his brother Hank run the channel. I highly recommend watching some- or all- of their videos. It is funny, intelligent, sometimes goofy, but what they have created is a community of nerds who want to make the world a better place.

I have read all of John's books- "Looking for Alaska," "An Abundance of Katherines," "Paper Towns," and most recently, "Will Grayson, Will Grayson" which is a collaboration with David Levithan in which each author writes from the point of view of their own Will Grayson. The two meet up in the middle of the book. All of these books are amazing. They are funny, and sad, and some of them a little dark, and realistic and relatable, and some of the best works of fiction I've read (and I've read alot.)

But today I want to talk about a concept written about in "Paper Towns." I guess this would be the appropriate place for a spoiler alert because I need to explain the beginning of the book for you to know what the rest of this post is about.

In the beginning of the story, the two main characters, Margo and Quentin, are just 9 years old. 18 year old Quentin is explaining a rather life-changing, tragic event that occurred one day. The two are biking to a park in the middle of their community, but when they get there something is amiss. Margo sees it right away. Propped against a big oak tree, she sees a body. Robert Joyner has obviously been shot in the face, a pool of blood around his body. Quentin takes two steps back, Margo takes two steps forward. She is close enough to touch the body and she is standing in a pool of his blood. Quentin grabs her arm and they bike home to tell their parents what they had found. Little Margo shows up that night at Quentin's house, outside his window. He opens it to talk to her and she tells him how she went around asking some people about what happened. As it turns out Robert Joyner's neighbor tells Margo that he had just gotten divorced. Quentin says that people get divorced all the time. Margo says, "I know!" and after a pause she tells him that she thinks maybe the strings inside him broke.

Later in the book there is discussion of what the right analogy for it is: Broken stings, an interconnected system of roots of leaves of grass, cracks in a vessel... But the thing is, is that they are talking about seeing each other- really seeing the real person. But what if it's you looking at yourself? I think the broken strings is a good metaphor for that,except instead of our broken strings being broken forever, maybe we can repair them.

One of my strings that has been broken for a long time, has been my 'relationship string' I guess we'll call it. Even before it broke, it was a measly excuse for a string. See, in high school, while it seemed like all my peers were dating, I had the self confidence or a gnat. That's not a very attractive quality to most high school boys, and I sure as hell didn't leave my comfort zone to try to change that.

I didn't go on my first actual date until my third year in college. I was away from home and I didn't have to worry about parental approval so I finally stepped out of that comfort zone. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but there were a couple boys I briefly dated. Once it became clear to them that I wasn't going to put out too soon, most of them went away. I almost gave up, but then I met this boy, and he seemed nice and smart and best of all was willing to give me some time. I thought he was perfect, I thought he loved me. Then, about three months into our relationship I found out he had been cheating on me the entire time. When I confronted him, he raised his hand to hit me. I guess the look of terror on my face snapped him out of his rage, or whatever was happening. He just let his arm linger in the air for a while, then it slowly fell to his side. I broke it off right then and there and he looked like he was really going to hit me this time, but he didn't. I couldn't believe that after all that time I chose to give my trust, my love, my time... and other things, to such a bad person. He left, but my string didn't break, it just sort of fell apart. I never told anyone, and I forgot it even happened. I forgot his name. I forgot his face. I forgot that there was ever a string. But of course it was still there, somewhere deep inside, I just couldn't see it.

It was about eight years later, when I was talking to a friend about abusive people when just the faintest suggestion of it all drifted into my mind. I told her everything I could remember. I still don't remember his name. I thought I remembered a couple different times and each time I would figure out that I was wrong, that it was someone else's name that had floated into my mind. I still don't know. It amazes me that I could forget someone who broke one of my strings. I don't even remember what he looked like. In my mind there's no photograph, it's more like a Picasso painting. The essence is present, but none of the realness is.

For a long time I could not trust a man until he was safely in the friend zone. Then I met a guy who seemed nice and smart and all of those things people look for in each other. I stupidly developed feelings for him and let myself get too involved even though I knew I was the only one feeling anything. Then one day I got tired of pining for someone who would never love me the way I needed to be loved and told him EVERYTHING. I even told him that there was something broken inside of me that I needed to fix. It wasn't until I reread "Paper Towns" that I realized it was that string. The funny thing about realizing that your string is broken, is that it starts to fix itself.

What I need now is some emotional glue- friends, good times, the knowledge that it's not impossible- and to find the rest of the pieces. I'm well on my way to repairing my string, and maybe someday I'll even be able to use it again. But for now, I'm happy in the knowledge that in spite of my broken string I was able to feel and the thought that one day my string will be whole again.

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