done gone crazy

2011-11-18T12:17:00.000-08:00

Ich nähere mich dem Ende meines Seils. Sobald ich dorthin komme, fürchte mich ich, dass ich mit ihm mich hängen kann.

The diagnosis is in...

2008-11-17T11:00:00.000-08:00

I have terminal alexithymia.

Speechless, right?

Go figure

thanatos

2008-11-16T12:35:00.000-08:00

I've caught myself quietly hoping for the doctor's to find something really wrong with me.

hurt so good

2008-10-05T11:09:00.000-07:00

I’m figuring something out… I think I need pain more often than I'd like to admit. Maybe it sounds a little twisted, but hear me out… I don’t mean it in a necessarily masochistic sort of way (though sometimes I do like that) but I have a growing appreciation for pain as the impetus for learning, growth, and change.

At the gym, I only know I’m working hard enough when it hurts a little. No pain, no gain, right? And it feels so good when you’re done...when you’ve suffered through, but did it ANYWAY. I always like that pain, standing there, dripping with sweat, chest heaving with exhaustion and a quiet smile of accomplishment on your face.

When I’m in emotional pain… I obsess. I think about things over and over again, trying to understand the meaning of it all. I become a bit of an artist (though not necessarily a good one), searching for ways to format my personal epiphanies. I’m touched by songs, paintings, poetry and I have a depth of awareness that, while crippling sometimes, strangely enriches who I am. I gain enormously in empathy for others and, my principles, values and personal beliefs are truly tested. In that way, I guess there is a part of me that likes this kind of pain too.

I know an affinity for pain must sound ridiculous, but when you look at life as a series of obstacles where you are struggling, clutching and clawing your way though, looking to grow, learn, and ultimately reach your destination, pain is not always such a bad thing. You are motivated by the pain in the moment, a need to push through and get to a different place.

When there is no pain… what motivates a person to grow? How can I find a way to let myself be happy without losing all I have learned in the past few years? How can I continue to grow…….

Full Circle

2008-08-08T18:45:00.000-07:00

5 years ago, I loved a man that did not love me back. My days and nights had many empty hours. I smoked often. I was bulimic. I felt vacant and alone. I cried about my life and feared for the future.

2 years ago, I found that I had less and less love for that man. I began to shut down. I blocked out thoughts of the future and did what I could to get through each day.

1 year ago, I was moving into my own home. I was starting over. I was alone, but I was hopeful for what was to come.

6 months ago, I felt loved and blessed. I teared up at thoughts of the future and the promise that it held. I was unapologetically happy.

sigh

Mums the word

2007-10-11T22:33:00.000-07:00

Lady, lady, never start
Conversation toward your heart;

Keep your pretty words serene;
Never murmur what you mean.

Show yourself, by word and look,
Swift and shallow as a brook.

Be as cool and quick to go
As a drop of April snow;

Be as delicate and gay
As a cherry flower in May.

Lady, lady, never speak
Of the tears that burn your cheek-

No, she will never win, whose
Words had shown she feared to lose.

2007-09-15T13:14:00.001-07:00

Be careful when you wrestle with monsters, lest you thereby become one. For, if you stare long enough into the abyss, the abyss also stares into you.-- Friedrich Nietsche

Now what?

2007-07-27T12:12:00.000-07:00

Almost 7 months on my own and it's only now really starting to sink in. It's really hit me over the past few days and I'm feeling like I never really thought I would. All of a sudden, I'm overcome with a painful, near crippling loneliness. I can't seem to shake it. Worst of all, the more I feel it, the more I am isolating myself from those in my world that could actually help.

Another brick in the wall

2007-02-25T10:52:00.000-08:00

I am having a growing problem with apathy. I have become so accustomed to hurt that I've become numb to pain and built a wall around myself. I see now that I continue to put up the wall for the wrong people, and I hate that I have become like this.

I act hard and tough like I don't care and that this wall is keeping everything out, but inside I want to scream and throw things in anger at letting what is now in the PAST get the better of me as I try to move forward. In some ways the harder things are easier to get over - those are the things you can talk through, sort out. But there are things in my history that can't seem to recover from. Time I can't get back.

I can't even say that it has been a learning experience because saying that implies that there is some value in losing this part of myself... the part that FEELS. It's as though a part of me is paralyzed or dead, that I have lost so much of the good in me that I could be directing to someone else who deserves it. And I let it happen. In fact, I WILLED it to happen. I closed up. I told myself that no one will ever hurt me like that again and I know that no one will. I won't let anyone get close enough to try.

Problem is, I can't figure out how to reclaim the soft parts in my heart... my soul. The wounds are gone now, but as my heart heals, it has not returned to what it once was. It has scabbed and calloused... hardened... never to be vulnerable again. I see now that once you close up, you can't go back. You can never go back. Problem is, I don't know how to go forward either.

When you're going through hell...

2007-02-10T13:36:00.000-08:00

Just keep going.

day 2

2007-01-13T21:27:00.000-08:00

I have no idea how I'm supposed to feel right now. Every minute it's something different. Sometimes I'm thinking of holding him again, wondering if now I'll be alone forever. Sometimes that seems really okay.

Sometimes that seems like hell.

Sometimes I'm thinking of how this is the only possible way I can ever have the life I envisioned for myself. And I'm okay again.

Sometimes I think I'm deserting him. I promised... I promised SO many things... did I lie? Will I ever be able to make those promises again?

Sometimes I'm worried that he'll hate me for this forever. Sometimes I'm worried I'll hate myself for this forever.

Sometimes I'm proud of myself... thinking I CAN do this... knowing that I'm doing what needs to be done, no matter how hard and impossible it may seem.

Sometimes I'm so ashamed that I couldn't make it work. That I don't love him enough to really stick it out and stay through "the hard times". Did I give up on him?

Sometimes I think he's right. I AM overreacting.

Sometimes I think he's out of his fucking mind and I was out of mine to believe him for as long as I have.

Sometimes I think that it is my job to save him... that I'm dooming him to a life of something less than he deserves by leaving. I worry that without me, he has nothing.

And through it all... I think of my son. Always.
No matter what, all I really know for sure is that I need to do what is right for him. He is the only true innocent in this. I have made mistakes. His dad has made mistakes. We both owe it to our son to make the best possible choices now to protect our son.

Fuck this is hard.

Fun and Games...

2006-12-28T15:50:00.000-08:00

Set your ipod/MP3 player to shuffle… Press play…. For every question, type the song that’s playing…. When you get to a new question, press next.

Voila… your life soundtrack. No cheating. :P

Opening credits: Take the Money and Run – Steve Miller Band
Go on take the money and run

(um... okay....we're off to an interesting start...)

Waking up: Tiptoe – Goldfrapp

You feel good… you feel right… mumble mumble…???

Falling in love: Middle of Nowhere – Hot Hot Heat

They chewed me up and then they spit me out
And I'm not supposed to let it bother me
But maybe I'm a little bit weak - I let my frailty take the wheel
She said, "Maybe there's a bit of me waiting for a bit of you. baby."

Fight song: Nothingman – Pearl Jam

Once divided...nothing left to subtract...
Some words when spoken...cant be taken back...

Breaking up: Killing in the Name of – Rage Against the Machine

Fuck you, I won't do what you tell me

Making up: The Only Living Boy in New York – Simon and Garfunkel

Half of the time were gone but we don’t know where,
And we don’t know where…

Life’s okay: Cream – Prince

You’re so cool (Cool)
Everything you do is success
Make the rules (Rules)
Then break them all cuz you are the best

(c’mon… any song with sh-boogie bop in it HAS GOT to mean life’s okay)


Mental breakdown: The Cure – Just like Heaven

You…soft and only

you…lost and lonely
you…strange as angels
dancing in the deepest oceans
twisting in the water

you're just like a dream

Driving: Keep on Rockin me Baby – Steve Miller Band

I went from Phoenix, Arizona all the way to Tacoma....

(well... not REALLY)


Flashbacks: Jessie’s Girl – Rick Springfield

(oh shuddap)

Happy dance: The Metal – Tenacious D

(um… I have no idea how this actually made it onto my ipod… stupid shared computer)

Regret: Valentine’s Day – Steve Earle

I know that i swore that i wouldn't forget
I wrote it all down: i lost it i guess
There's so much i want to say
But all the words just slip away

Final Battle: Saving Grace – Tom Petty

And it’s hard to say
Who you are these days
But you run on anyway
Don’t you baby?

Death scene: Chasing Cars – Snow Patrol

If I lay here, if I just lay here

Would you lie with me and just forget the world

Final credits: World Wide Suicide – Pearl Jam

And in all the madness. Thought becomes numb and naive.
So much to talk about. Nothing more to say.

*Just so ya know... It was REALLY hard not to cheat for a few of these.... I have soooooo many songs that would have fit so damn perfect for a couple scenes. Dangit.

2006-12-27T10:44:00.001-08:00

why is doing the "right" thing so damn hard sometimes?

Bold faced

2006-12-12T14:44:00.000-08:00

Me? I like being busy. I'm the happ-happiest girl in the world. Look at me. I'm sure smiley. Fun, sunshine and roses... Yup. Couldn't be more satisfied with everything and everyone in it. I'm the luckiest gal in the world. The luckiest.

The Institution

2006-12-10T06:24:00.000-08:00

Holy Hell… the sun isn’t up yet and somehow I am. My head’s overflowing a little bit… can’t sleep. So I’m gonna do some stream of consciousness brain dump thing here. Bare (bear?) with me. (or go away if you’d prefer). Suit yourself. (bare… bear… suit… heehee)

I’m thinking about marriage. Not about me GETTING married (God no… we’ve discussed my feelings on that before) but MARRIAGE itself. What it is, what it’s supposed to be.

In some twisted way, marriage to me is equated with saying, “I’m willing to give up my happiness for you”. I’m sure that’s a fucked up way to look at it. I mean, I’m sure no one goes into a marriage thinking that’s really what they’re doing. I think the idea is that you get married because it’s supposed to BRING you happiness. You don’t want to live without this person in your life, you cannot be happy unless he or she is at your side… until…uh oh… one day you discover that you cannot be happy WITH them at your side. But you stay anyway… y’know… cuz you promised.

Yeah… and people wonder why I have no interest in wearing a big fat diamond on my hand?

I find that sooooo many people make that promise and then somehow gradually (or suddenly, who knows?)… CHANGE their minds. Fuck. Not because they’re bad people or selfish or anything like that… but just because maybe it’s a fool’s errand to offer yourself to someone else in this way. I mean, how can you commit your LIFE to someone else and expect that it will bring you happiness?

And if you do… if you SINCERELY believe that you cannot live your life without this person, where they truly mean enough to you at any point in time that you are willing to forego all else for him or her, how can you just CHANGE YOUR MIND? This person meant SO much to you at one time, but not anymore? Huh?

“Ya, hon, this marriage thing has been great and all, but as it turns out, I’m not happy. I know I promised to be your partner til death parts us (etc etc) but this ain’t working for me anymore. You can have the blender if I get the crock pot. See ya around”.

I just don’t get it. What’s love worth anyway… if it really isn’t a permanent state? What’s the point of a promise you don’t keep? That maybe you CAN’T keep? That, if you DO keep it, it means eventually giving up the one and only thing you can really have in this life… your SELF. But wait, that’s the promise, right? I love you so much that I give you my everything. I give you ME.

See? I don’t want to give ME to anyone. Fuck. It’s all I’ve got. And yet, even without ever so much as trying on a pretty white dress, I’ve managed to give up my life in my promises to another.

I know. I hate this side of me. I'm not trying to burst any bubbles, and please, if there's a better or more truthful way to look at things, help me to open my eyes. I really don’t TRY to be such a fatalist. I just don’t see how it’s not doomed. Well… maybe DOOMED isn’t the word. I just think people are continually looking for what will make them happy… when the truth is, what makes us happy at one moment, may be the very thing that will make us sad in the future. And really, we can’t possibly predict what those things will be. All we have are feelings, instincts, rationalizations to steer us and sometimes we wind up horribly lost.

All I want is a fucking map. Hell, at least point me in the right direction! Til then, I’m not moving.

*BTW: I believe in love! I believe in happiness! I just don't believe in marriage as a means for securing either. Thank you. That is all.

2006-11-26T22:14:00.000-08:00

There is nothing more powerful than human connection. The need to feel loved. Special. Important to another human being in some way beyond reason. What IS that? Why does it matter so much? Why does it hurt so much when it's not there?

Sometimes I try to reason myself out of it. I think, they're just FEELINGS... and what are those, really? I mean, they don't really mean anything. They're almost imaginary really... They only become real once you share them with someone else. Until then, they are only inside you, the same way a fantasy or a craving or a passing thought is. They don't change anything unless you allow them to.

You COULD let your life be driven by your emotions. By the pursuit of love, happiness, whatever that means to you. And really, it's nothing. Nothing matters. It's fleeting. Temporary. So why let it control you?

Does this make sense? What difference does what's in my head and my heart make to the rest of the world. Isn't what we DO more important than what we say or how we feel? Which matters more?

God, when I think like this, sometimes I just feel overwhelmed by the pointlessness of it all. It seems that everything and yet nothing I do matters. It's infuriating. What's it all supposed to be for anyway? Should I be plugging through life just pursuing my own happiness? Or trying to ensure the happiness of all those around me? (as it's in any way up to me)

If I save enough people from suffering, perhaps I will inadvertently save myself? What about when you find out that the things that will make you happy are bound to crush the ones you love? How do you put your own happiness above theirs? And can you ever really be happy, knowing your choices have caused pain for so many others? Do you choose the lesser of two evils? Or perhaps you simply choose NOT to choose... proceed as usual, hoping life will magically make all the hard decisions for you. When you know that any decision you make is bound to lead to suffering, sometimes the only choice seems to be avoiding the whole damn situation.

I mean, Fuck. I can't handle the responsibility of it all. I don't know when it happened that I became consumed with everyone ELSE'S happiness, as if I ever actually had some control over it. When did I become matron saint of joy and love? When did I decide to take this upon myself? And why do I believe that my choices matter so fucking much to everyone else? Do others think of me and my happiness? Do they hold my life and satisfaction in such high regard that it takes precedence over their own? Would I want them to?

No. I wouldn't. Absolutely not. I don't want others to sacrifice for me. I don't want to be a consideration. And yet, I truly believe that in order for ME to find peace, to find comfort, solace, and dare I say it, real happiness, I must sacrifice myself. The truth is, I don't think I could live with myself if I made choices that are designed for my happiness alone.

So yeah. I'm fucked. I want what I want when I want it. AND I won't be satisfied unless I can have what I want when I want it WITHOUT hurting anyone else. Awesome.

Sometimes I hate being a godamned saint.

Chip off the ol' block

2006-11-11T19:53:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I forget how amazing my kid is. Lately I've been so completely self centred (Waah waah waah... MY pain, MY suffering, MY happiness... bleh. Selfish.) I've been wrapped up in my own little world, agonizing over my own drama - that I don't feel like I've really taken the time to sit and ENJOY him (the irony here being that so much of what I've been tormenting myself with is directly related to trying to be the kind of parent that he deserves). I know I haven't been a very attentive mom lately and I'm trying to do better.

Every night at bedtime, after the usual snacktime and teeth brushing rituals, we read a chapter in one of his books (he invariably begs for a second chapter - sometimes I give in, sometimes I don't), then we turn out the big lights, and turn on his globe night light. I muse about where I want to travel, always pointing out some really obscure locations so he'll laugh at me and roll his eyes, then I tuck him in tight and plant some fat smooches on his cheek or forehead (which also makes him groan and roll his eyes).

Once he's well tucked, I lay down next to him, FORCING him to share some of his pillow with me and we lay face to face and do our "favourites". We started this little tradition as soon as he was old enough to talk where he would tell me about the best things that happened in his day and when he was finished, I'd tell him mine. I always wanted to make sure he ended his day on a positive note, thinking about the things that made him happiest, y'know, appreciating the good stuff. Seemed like a good way to fend off nightmares, a nice way to wrap up the day.

Tonight he said his first favourite was that it is a long wkd and he'd have more time to play with his friends. Pretty typical for him. His second was something about conquering a new level on his video game (the kid LOVES his gamecube like little else). His last favourite was "right now". Of course, I asked why. Why was this moment so good? He looked at me and smiled that toothy smile that all eight year olds seem to have and just shrugged. "jeeeeez... I dunno", he laughed, "It just is".

I was instantly completely overwhelmed with love. I teared up. Awwh... He loves me. THIS is one of his favourite moments of the day? Awwwh... I hugged him tight... so tight that he wiggled and tried to squirm loose... "muuuuummm... lemme go.... c'mon... mummmmmm." But I just couldn't let go. I told him how much I loved him and that I'm so proud of him. I apologized for not being much fun lately. More tears. More hugs. More kisses. He pretended to hate it so I hugged him some more.

He giggled and squirmed... "Moooooooom. Stoppit! Lemme go... I'm gonna... I'm gonna..." he laughed a little harder... so I squeezed a little harder.

Then it happened. Just then.... a perfectly timed maneuver to 1) motivate me to let him go and 2) crack me up enough that I would stop with the stupid crying already.

He farted.

Little bugger is a genius.
Fuck I love that kid.

I need to be a better mom. Starting now.

Maltese Falcon

2006-11-11T16:03:00.000-08:00

The Maltese Falcon was on PBS last night.

I watched it (well, most of it - it was late and I dozed) for the firstest time ever.

Sam Spade is the shit.

Possibly the most amusing "fight" sequence I've ever seen (scene).

Sigh.....

no more poems

2006-11-10T21:01:00.000-08:00

So, yeah.... I've been reading fucking POETRY for the past 3 days.
Hundreds of 'em.
I can't stop.

But this is not a poem.

My stomach hurts.
My head hurts.
My tongue hurts. (I burned it)
I think my hair is falling out.

I feel weak.
I feel sad.
I feel angry.
I feel confused.
I feel lost and alone.
I feel smothered and claustrophobic.

I don't want to eat.
I don't want to work.
I don't want to study.
I don't want to sleep.

I don't want to ANYTHING.

I just sit.
or I smoke.
or I read.
I read and I think.
I think and I wonder.

And it hurts.
It always hurts.

A Dream within a Dream

2006-11-10T20:59:00.000-08:00

Take this kiss upon the brow
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

-Poe

But Not Forgotten

2006-11-09T08:45:00.000-08:00

I think, no matter where you stray,
That I shall go with you a way.

Though you may wander sweeter lands,
You will not soon forget my hands,

Nor yet the way I held my head,
Nor all the tremulous things I said.

You still will see me, small and white
And smiling, in the secret night,

And feel my arms about you when
The day comes fluttering back again.

I hope, no matter where you be,
You'll hold me in your memory

And keep my image, there without me,
By telling later loves about me.

-Dorothy Parker

Somebody's Song

2006-11-09T08:43:00.000-08:00

This is what I vow;
He shall have my heart to keep,
Sweetly will we stir and sleep,
All the years, as now.
Swift the measured sands may run;
Love like this is never done;
He and I are welded one:
This is what I vow.

This is what I pray:
Keep him by me tenderly;
Keep him sweet in pride of me,
Ever and a day;
Keep me from the old distress;
Let me, for our happiness,
Be the one to love the less:
This is what I pray.

This is what I know:
Lovers' oaths are thin as rain;
Love's a harbinger of pain-
Would it were not so!
Ever is my heart a-thirst,
Ever is my love accurst;
He is neither last nor first:
This is what I know.

-Dorothy Parker

A slow death

2006-11-05T19:23:00.000-08:00

I need to stop smoking but it occurs to me that I may have a moderate oral fixation. It may be that cigarettes are the lesser of two evils.

On a related note... Evidently, blow jobs mean never having to say your sorry (or say ANYTHING else for that matter).

Warum tue ich dies mich an?

Numb the pain. Fill the void.

Anything.

Just put me out of my fuckin misery.

Ouch.

2006-11-05T18:46:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I think pain is more beautiful than anything else in this world.
At least it's honest.

Ultimatums are bullshit.

Anyone got a harmonica?

2006-10-30T21:43:00.000-08:00

I'm coming to the realization that I don't always give adequate.... feedback. There's a reason for this. I'm not so good at the open book thing. I'll admit it, I don't like feeling vulnerable. It's scary. More and more I'm finding that people don't know where they stand with me. "What do you think?" is an easy enuff question for me to answer... but I always get tripped up with the "How do you FEEL?" stuff.

What I THINK is usually pretty simple to explain. Cerebral. Definitive. Hell, I can walk you through the process. "Well, first I thought... which led me to wonder.... and THEN I thought.... So yeah... I think... blabbity blah." Easy peezy, shampoo squeezy.

But then... there's the feeeeeeeeling questions. Yeech. How do I FEEL??? Geebus. I dunno. Good? Bad? Can I be a teensy bit more descriptive? No I can't. Cuz ya wanna know why? Most of the time, I don't really know. I mean, I know at the MOMENT. Knee jerk stuff. Instantaneous response. I can express that... sure. But the thing is... after a little time has passed, my brain kicks in and the FEELING turns into THINKING.

The waters get all muddy after that. Logic and rationality somehow override emotion. I can no longer express how I FEEL about anything at that point... It all just turns into what I THINK... or however I've managed to make sense of what I felt.

Ridiculous right? Where's the humanity in this? It's completely fucking robotic. Input data... process... tabulate... compute... output response. Neatly itemized and alphabetized for your convenience. But it's cold. Sterile. Ick. And it drives me crazy to look at myself in those terms. And yet... it still fits.

I never used to be like this. At least I don't think I was. And I wonder now if this isn't just a lovely little by-product of feeling too much pain for too long. I think I needed a way to cope so I began to distance myself from things that were upsetting. I rationalized things that otherwise would have produced such a guttural response that they'd have been unbearable. Eventually, this distancing started to happen more often... until I'd effectively removed myself from all kinds of situations that forced me to FEEL, even those that used to be pleasant.

It's confusing as hell now... when I try to understand why I feel the need to be so guarded, even when I know it should be safe to start to explore something a little deeper than what I'm THINKING at any given moment... somehow I just can't.

Apparently, I am in an emotional prison of my own making. Godammit.
Aren't life's little epiphanies grand?
Fuck.

The apple doesn't fall far...

2006-10-26T20:43:00.000-07:00

Lemme just start by saying that I really do love my mom. She has an amazing soul and a huge heart. She’s passionate about school and art and beauty, appreciates all the finer (read: expensive) things in life, but still sees herself as the kind of woman that will go mountain climbing or white water rafting at any given moment, should an invitation actually come her way. She wants to hand out soccer balls to poor kids in Venezuela, teach English to Asian preschoolers and dig up landmines in Croatia. She’s wants to do it all, have it all, BE it all. A real renaissance women…. And I’ll be the first to admit that most people that know her, absolutely love her.

She’s a great person… really she is… and in a lot of ways, I’m completely okay with being similar to her. Of course, she’s not without her flaws. The woman is teeeeeeerrible with money, notorious for over-committing herself (because she CAN’T say no to people) and prone to feelings of inferiority and regret for all that she has yet to achieve in her life. She has dabbled with drugs, never pays her parking tickets and, although she hides it from pretty much everyone, smokes Cameo Extra Mild cigarettes in her basement every evening.

Not that any of that makes her a bad person. She’s just, y’know… flaky. She is kind and fun and she would give you the shirt off her back (not in a sexual way, ahem, this IS my MOTHER we are talking about here), but she’s sorta cut from a different cloth when compared to the rest of the people in my family.

See, my mom has ideas. Not that ideas are a BAD thing… but sometimes she gets so wrapped up in her ideas…the possibilities, the “coulds”, that she loses sight of what’s right in front of her face. She’s never been so great at the “shoulds”.

My case in point (and undoubtedly her greatest regret)… she flaked out and left us when I was a kid. Just up and left her husband and two kids without a backward glance. She went chasing one of her possibilities, even though it meant walking away from her responsibilities. No, she didn’t wander off to do some of the great stuff that she imagined herself doing… she just left. Poof. Gone. 6 years of my life without a mom… and we’re talking my FORMATIVE years here, people. To this day, more than a decade after she’s returned, I still don’t know what happened to her during those years or how she managed to stay away so long. And, maybe because I’m terrified of the answer, I’ve just never bothered to ask.

Now, keep in mind, she’s not mentally ill or anything. There is nothing wrong with her in a clinical sense. She has just always been in search of something. Seeking out something, some UNKNOWN, magical thing, that will finally be the answer to whatever it is she’s looking for. She’s always had the sense that something in her life is missing. In spite of all she’s tried, she’s never, EVER found out what it is.

This scares the shit outta me because no matter how I try to fight it... no matter what I do....

I feel it too.

Imagine that

2006-10-22T21:44:00.000-07:00

The thoughts won't stop. Your presence fills my mind. I ache with need. I close my eyes.

I imagine the sound of your voice, deep and low, breathing hard at my ear. Whispers. Moans. Growls.

I imagine how you taste... the sweet saltiness of your skin. My tongue sliding slowly along your chest.

I imagine the smell of your skin as I nuzzle your shoulder. Your scent. The lingering of your cologne on my clothes.

I imagine feeling you over me... under me... inside me. Pressing me into the mattress. The counter. The wall. The floor.

I imagine your fingers as they dig furrows in the sheets. Gathering bunches of soft cotton in clenched fists.

I imagine your warm naked skin next to me. Tracing each other with our fingertips. Hearts speeding up... slowing down. Breathing synchronized.

Please baby. Your hands on me. Your lips, your tongue, your teeth. The sexy smile that turns up one corner of your mouth just so. Your eyes on me. That look. I feel it at my core.

Can you feel me? Soft and smooth. Hot and wet.

You possess me. Do with me what you will.

Please baby. Take me. Lick me. Tease me. Taste me. Satisfy me.

I'm yours. You're mine.

If only in my imagination.

I don't care.

I'm gonna fuck you blind.

Puzzled

2006-10-16T22:49:00.000-07:00

Ever start to question if you really are the person you thought you were? I mean, I've always kinda pictured myself as the kind of person that acts a certain way… y'know, a GOOD person. I mean, shit, I never would have considered myself an angel by any stretch of the imagination (nevermind the halo) but it was easy enough to think of myself as decent.

Reasonably kind.

Well behaved...enough anyway.

Imperfect, sure.

Flawed…fine.

But ultimately not a BAD person.

So yeah… I'm plugging away through life with a perception of myself as THIS PERSON. No saint… but a sinner of only mild to moderate proportions. And then one day I wake up and I have to ask myself "What the hell happened to me???. When did I turn into THIS?"

Apparently, and to my immense surprise, it turns out that AM the kind of person that is capable of shitty things. Bad things. Selfish things. My lifelong assessment of myself as "decent" is clearly in need of revision at this point. I mean, sure, not EVERYTHING I do is awful or sinister. I still throw in my two cents for the charity of choice knockin at my door to sell me overpriced chocolate bars. I call my grandma at least once a week and listen to stories about yarn sales and Betty Ann's grandchildren. I have even been known to rake the neighbour's leaves, just outta the goodness of my burgeoning heart. Yes people. I'm capable of staggering acts of humanitarianism.

So yeah...I can see that I'm not consistently horrible. I haven't dismembered any clergy or dabbled in cannibalism. Fuck, I can even honestly say I can't recall ever being INTENTIONALLY cruel in anyway… But does that make me a GOOD person? I'm thinkin not.

Even though I don't suppose I'd qualify for VIP membership on the axis of evil... the truth is, whatever my good intentions, it turns out that I'm STILL a shit. Nope. I can no longer claim to be wholly good and decent. No matter how I try to spin it, the description just doesn't fit anymore.

Now, this creates quite a conundrum for me. It leaves me feeling fragmented… in disarray. Pieces that no longer fit together in the jigsaw puzzle (ahem… genius level analogy) that is me. How do I reconcile these pieces of the puzzle that just DON'T FIT without completely re-configuring my identity?

Do I try to toss out the pieces that don't match with who I thought I was, even though there will be some unmistakable and substantial gaps left in their absence? Or do I need to reconceptualize, redefine... fuck... just start from SCRATCH to allow for these aberrations, knowing that the end product looks nowhere near as GOOD as it once was?

I have to ask myself which is better... a complete me, flawed bits and all... or the GOOD me, colour coordinated, carefully manufactured and yet, in spite of all efforts to conceal the truth, ultimately all full of fuckin holes for anyone that looks close enough to see....

2006-10-13T20:56:00.000-07:00

insomnia

2006-09-22T05:11:00.000-07:00

It's 6am.

There is a drunk man in my bed.

I don't need to get up for work for another hour and I can't effin sleep.

I almost never feel the need to blog anymore.

I don't know why.

I'm just as screwy as ever, but I'm trying to be a little more quiet about it.

I wonder if I don't say/write/type it... maybe it won't be quite as true?

Or maybe I've just said it all already?

Redundancy is boring... ergo I am boring.

BORING, I say!

Did I mention there is a drunk man in my bed?

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Same ol' story.

Redundant.

BORING.

...............

The sky is pink right now.

(didn't see that one coming, did ya?)

Surprises are interesting.

Maybe it's time I surprise myself.

Lather, rinse and GET OUT OF THE FUCKING SHOWER.

Or maybe a new shampoo?

Midnight

2006-08-28T23:20:00.000-07:00

Midnight. That was when they’d agreed upon. All day she’d been waiting. She looked at the clock, ripe with anticipation. It was 11:56pm. It was almost time.

She looked around the room and laid a soft blanket out on the floor and stood there, considering the angles. Could she really actually go through with it?

Tick tock.

11:57pm. She went to the window and drew back the blinds. Opening the window, she felt the cool night air against her skin and peered out into the darkness, the moonlight casting shadows down through the trees and dancing across the ground outside. Goosebumps rose on her flesh, a little from the chill maybe, but mostly from the adrenaline pumping through her body.

11:59pm. She struck a match to light the few candles in the room and quickly flicked the light switch off. The warm glow lit her skin as she slowly, delicately slid the clothes off her body and laid back on the blanket.

Tick tock.

She inhaled deeply and listened to the wind blowing, the rustling of leaves on the trees, and she could sense that he was already there. This was how they planned it. There was no turning back now.

It was midnight.

At first, she felt so exposed, so vulnerable and yet… exhilarated. My God, what was she thinking?

Laying there, her mind racing, she tried to block out the worries and find a way to quiet her mind. Shush, she thought. They had agreed. This was the only way.

She closed her eyes and ran her hands across her middle, caressing her stomach and slowly gliding her hands up over her breasts, her nipples hardened to smooth pebbles beneath her fingertips and shooting electric tingles throughout her body with the slightest touch. Moving her palms over her waist and down her hips, she felt the warm softness of her skin and let the worries melt away as she imagined him hovering over her, his hands clutching at her passionately in place of her own.

She heard a quiet gasp escape from the window. He was watching her.

Knowing this made her whole body tremble with excitement. A shiver shot up her spine and she exhaled hard. She slipped her hands down her legs, between her thighs and slid her fingers across her flesh, fire hot and tight, yet slick with desire. Her worries washed away as the feelings of pleasure overtook her, mercifully drowning out the little voice in her head. She relented, smiling as she teased herself, sliding her fingers around in little circles, inside and out again, allowing her thumb to graze against her soft skin, bringing wave upon wave of warm liquid bliss.

Mmmmmmmmm. She felt the moans escape her mouth as she held her eyes closed tight, focusing on the cool breeze against her hot skin, the sounds of the trees, still imagining her touch as his touch. Spreading her legs impossibly wide, she abandoned any sense of modesty and over and again delved into herself, one hand between her legs and the other cupping her breast, then up across her forehead, her fingers raking through her hair and pushing it away from her face.

Her moans, growing louder Mmmmmmmm…. mingled with those echoed outside…. mmmmmmmmm… from only a few feet away.

Beads of sweat glistened on her chest as her breathing began to quicken. Her breasts rising and falling, her heart pounding hard and fast. Biting down on her bottom lip, swollen and cherry red, her breathing more like panting, she didn’t know how much longer she would last. She knew she didn’t want the feeling to end. With every sensation she melted, wanted more. It wasn’t enough. More. Just a little more. Oh my God. MORE.

She heard a low throaty groan from outside and the aching sound was all it took to put her over the edge. Oh God, YES, she squealed. The sound of his voice was the final blow, exploding at her core and sending wave upon wave of pleasure throughout her. Her whole body throbbed and bucked as she surrendered. Fuck! Ohmygod ohmygod OH MY GOD! Fuck.

As she laid there, still vibrating, aftershocks continuing to pulse through her body, she brought one hand over her face, flushed red and glowing. Peeking out of her fingers, she smiled a little at the window, and wrapped the soft blanket from beneath her up around her torso, suddenly feeling strangely modest again.

She gazed out into the darkness and saw his silhouette standing there. She swore she saw the hint of a smile as he turned slowly and walked away. She already couldn't wait until she would see him again.

Tick tock.

Yes. Until the next time.

I'm not interesting.

2006-08-23T23:03:00.000-07:00

There. I said it. No, no. It’s true. You know it. I know it. It’s the truth. A simply stated fact.

I’m not an aspiring novelist, nor am I cataloguing a bike trip through Europe.

I don’t have a new baby whose every first I am trying to capture on this brilliant medium, forming for my family and friends, and perhaps the infant herself, the newest versions of the dreaded slide shows and home movies of yesteryear.

I’m not trying to poison minds or convert sinners or draw like minded people into the wonders of catholic fundamentalism.

I don’t have real estate to sell you and I don’t have any burning Hollywood gossip to share.

Nope. I have no political agenda. I have no wisdom to disseminate. I have NOTHING of any consequence to tell you. I am dull. Ordinary. Extra-ordinary. (Not to be mistaken for extraordinary, a term that, if you ask me – though of course you didn’t - doesn’t at all mean what it should.) And yet, in spite of this, I’m still somewhat compelled to scatter little, unrequested written pieces of myself here.

My point. I have a point: Why would anyone have one of these thingies when they essentially have nothing to say? And don’t be fooled, I DON’T have anything to say. This is not the part when I “surprise” (SURPRISE!) readers and suddenly launch into a beautiful and moving monologue, praising the unsung brilliance of each and every one of us that dares to have a voice. Nope. I wouldn’t do that. (cuz, y’know, it’d kinda be bullshit)

I sit here and I manage to string together a few sentences now and again (sometimes sentence fragments – so sue me), but they aren’t anything of substance. They aren’t relevant. Or timely or profound. Most of the time they’re not even amusing. It’s just me. Wasting cyberspace.

As far as I can tell, I do it because it’s like a little time capsule. A snippet of me at a moment in time, preserved like a snapshot of a little girl, sucking in a big breath of air before she blows out the candles on her birthday cake. Moments that are sometimes a little embarrassing, sometimes far too revealing, and often leave me wondering (much like each and every photo taken of me between the ages of 12 and 14) “What THE HELL was I thinking!!?”

So, anyway… yeah. Even though I admittedly have nothing to say, I can make sense of why I’m here.

But that kinda begs the question… What’s YOUR excuse?

tick tock

2006-08-21T22:29:00.000-07:00

Christ. What was she waiting for? She knew what was coming - hell, she couldn’t escape it if she tried - and she wanted to cling to just a few more days of peace. Just a few more days… One more week, one more month, one more year. But really, there was no end to it all. She wondered, just how much longer could she go on like this. How long could her heart hold up?

She knew she was only buying time and that the price was another little piece of her soul. It scared her to death, knowing that if she held out long enough, there would soon be nothing left of her to sell.

Growing Pains

2006-08-16T12:39:00.000-07:00

I saw my first boyfriend the other night for the first time in 12 years. It was beyond bizarre. He's shorter than I recalled. He wears glasses. He's married – a pharmacist now. And he's everything and nothing like I remember.

As soon as I saw him, I went into a nervous sweat. It was just too weird. We hugged and shared some awkward small talk, but how do you really begin to catch up on twelve years? Hell if I know.

There was a group of us there, all graduates of the same tiny little elementary school and we sat marveling at the changes in one another, all adults now. Professionals, many of us with children and/or spouses, and we were catapulted back to a time when we used to chase each other around the school yard, the girls stealing ball caps and the boys snapping bra straps. God, It was forever ago.

We shared memories, each of us having forgotten some of the more embarrassing stories about ourselves, and laughed at who we used to be. I mean, honestly, did I really write that love note to our fifth grade teacher's intern? Groan... I felt a little exposed at how much knowledge these people had of my past, as though I was the only one who was supposed to remember those things.

Playing Ketchup

2006-08-10T23:02:00.000-07:00

Okay… it gets even weirder... That book? You remember the book I mentioned? (Duh, previous post – go ahead and refresh your memory, it’ll take all of twelve seconds. There are a massive two posts to search through).

Yeah, well when I wrote that last one, I had only read the first few chapters of the book. The following day, I finished it and the weird references count went up with each subsequent page. I’m not quite finished obsessing about the “coincidental” subject matter, so with no further ado, I give you….

Exhibit B:

Sister Christian

Ron Jeremy

The Sunshine State

Rockabilly

Bettie Page

MySpace

Boob Jobs

The Outfield

Bad puns

And…..

The piece de resistance…

No less than 23 references to FATE.

Whooooo…. Spooky.

Okay. I’m over it now.

In other news…

I have discovered the Tao.
Uh, yeah. I'll keep you posted.

La la la... I'm not LISTENING...

2006-07-27T19:53:00.000-07:00

I bought a book today. I wanted something to take my mind off "things" and a little light reading seemed like just the thing. I made the most random grocery store book aisle selection possible and grabbed a paperback. "Stupid and Contagious" it was called. Seemed appropriate enough.

You know those moments when the universe just seems to scream at you?

Yeah.....

I didn't even make it through the first chapter before the cosmos got all up in my face and started hollering that I'm an IDIOT.

The uncanny references started out small enough... (incidentally, these will no doubt seem EXTREMELY random to anyone reading this, but believe you me, each and every one of them is tied inextricably to some very big questions in my life and/or things I've said or done in the past year). It was EERIE.

First, there was something about thirtysomething indie-rock geeks. Ha. Sounded kinda familiar. Next, a joke about that eighties flick "Say Anything". Ha ha. coincidence.

I turned another page... John Cusack. Ooh... kinda weird... but he WAS in "Say Anything" after all, so it wasn't THAT strange that his name made it into the book. Immediately after though, Nick Hornby novels were mentioned. Shit.... I had to check the author again. Does this woman KNOW me? Nah. She knows her audience is all. coincidence. Just coincidence.

But then! THEN... it got weirder... Fear of flying... Motley Crue... Hmmm. Odd, I thought. But no. It wasn't just odd. There were more... A "you show me yours and I'll show you mine" anecdote, a guy named Marko, "Cars" by Gary Numan, S&M PR company, the KISS army (!!), "a reason, a season or a lifetime". OMG... not Rick James... Holy shit. Are you fucking kidding me?

How, for the LOVE OF PETE, did all these references to the last year of MY LIFE make it into this book??? Am I that unoriginal??? Well, I probably am. But STILL...

I mean, logically, I would be drawn to a book that is relevant to me, right? But I just grabbed this book... based solely on the title (I KNOW, I have such distinguishing taste) and the fact that it happened to be sitting in front of me while I shopped. Why, despite my best efforts to the contrary, did I select a book that would have a staggering number of reminders of the very things I was trying to forget?

Did I choose this book? Or, omigod, did it CHOOSE ME!??

............................?

Yeah.

ENOUGH ALREADY UNIVERSE!
I hear you, okay?

Starting over again

2006-07-26T22:26:00.000-07:00

All or nothing.

But I don't have all of me to give.

I'm not whole.

I'm fragments.

Pieces.

Not whole.

Hole.

Empty.

A black hole.

Nothingness that will suck you in.

I will give you no choice.

You will feel this.

I will make you feel special and needed.

You are.

Without you, all I can see is the nothing.

I will take all that you have to give and I shall never be satisfied.

There is never enough to fill this void.

All or nothing.

All I have is nothing.

You can have it all.