I found this article today.
http://www.thetruthseeker.co.uk/print.asp?ID=2725
It's not so much of an article as a list. A list of Scientists who died mysteriously between 2001 and early 2005. It offers no theories or accusations with these coincidences, just the facts; who they were, how they died, and what they were working on. A LOT of these guys were Biochemists, or working in some way with human disease and biowepons. These guys were at the forefront of their feilds. They had studied for years to know the intricate details of their chosen feild, memorize jargon and formulas and facts that most of us couldn't being to understand. They each saw the world in their own unique light, explored their own solution to the major world problem they were curious about.
I wonder what they found? I wonder how many hours and binders full of research died with them? I wonder what will happen to their notes. Maybe they'll get filed. Maybe no one can read them, or they were all written in code. I wonder how many of them woke up that morning with a 'Eureka!!' in his head that could turn the world upside down? I wonder how many of them were sick at the time, how many scared.
I feel sorry for the bodies that didn't make the most graceful exit from this world. I feel sorry for the families that didn't get the whole loved one's body back. I shudder for the 300+ scientists (In less then 2 years!!) that disapeared in Iraqi.
Knowledge is power. These men and women were working with very specialized knowledge that a small fraction of the world could understand like they could. It seems like very specialized people wanted to keep the power to themselves.
I think this list is a small piece of a very big puzzle. Its a bright bit of yellow in Van Goh's "Starry Night"; the color makes it a star, but it doesn't show you the whole picture. I believe there are people that have so much power over other people's lives that they have transcended government, boundaries and laws. And I believe that in order to keep the lifestyle they enjoy and the power they weild, they have to keep other people in place, which is, of course, below them. Coincidental deaths of many scientists is just another way to keep people sick and ignorant. The best part for these mysterious power-weilders? Its so far fetched it sounds like a conspiracy theory. But when you just look at the list of scientists...
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Brick
“You've gone this far. Can't back out now.”
She took a deep breath, swung, and connected the brick to the back of the other girl's head. The crack of a fresh coconut cut the silence. Then a startled “oh!”, an innocent, surprised oh, the sound of someone walking in on their parents kissing, and Ophelia hit the ground. Angela was on her immediately.
With all her strength and frustration and anger, Angela raised the brick over the fallen girl's head, and brought it back down. Again and again the brick connected with Ophelia's head. Again and again a slippery thwok rang out, the brick in Angela's right hand getting redder and redder with the warm wetness of the inside of Ophelia's skull.
Ophelia's back spazzed out. Her arms shot straight out in front of her, superman style style. As her blood splayed the sidewalk, her legs comically kicked and jiggled, a dying clown. As Angela's blows scraped Ophelia's face against the sidewalk, breaking her teeth and tearing her cheek open, Ophelia lost control of her bowels.
Again and again Angela brought the brick down, till her fingers were cramped, her knuckles were torn and raw, and a deep concave had formed in Ophelia's skull. Ten times, twenty times... Angela couldn't count. All she could do was repeat the same forceful motion, red eyed and breathing through her teeth.
Soon, Ophelia stopped moving. Angela slowed, and stopped. Her dark olive sweater was covered in blood. Flecks of bone and tissue specked her glasses. She pulled a long blonde, bloody hair out of her mouth. Throwing the chipped and bloody brick to the side, Angela stood up to assess her work.
“Oh. Look at that” was the first thing that popped into Angela's head. “This is probably the first time I've ever seen Ophelia with a hair out of place”, was the second.
More than just a hair was out of place. Ophelia's long blonde locks weren't even blonde any more. A whole chunk was missing, ripped away to expose the shy skull underneath. A dark stain collected around her crotch, leaking out the sides of her tiny miniskirt. It matched the maroon puddle growing under her head, and the sick stink of shit and copper weaving its way through the air.
The adrenaline built up in Angela's head behind her eyes started to melt its way down her body and out the soles of her shoes. In its place came creeping the realization of what she had just done. She was going to get in sooo much trouble. The fact that no cars had come down this usually busy street... that no neighbors were walking dogs or on the streets... there were no curious faces peering out windows... Angela had been very lucky so far. But luck runs out. Her shoulders shuddered in remorse for what she'd done. Not because she killed someone she had known since before either of them had mastered the art of shoe tying; she didn't regret that at all. But she mourned the consequences that were to come.
After a few minutes of quick panic, Angela gathered her resolve. No. She was not going to spend the rest of her life in jail. She was going to get away with this. Angela grabbed Ophelia's right arm and dragged her lifeless body to the patch of shady trees between the neighborhood houses. Ophelias body flopped. Blood trailed behind her. Her arm twisted out of its socket. Ducking behind some underbrush, Angela spotted a grill leaning against the nearest house. Right away she realizes what she has to do.
Angela undressed the dead girl. Ophelia's cardigan was covered in blood, and her dress was stained with piss and shit. Angela put them on anyway. Her own clothes got even more blood spackled on them when she put them on Ophelia. Angela pulled Opelia's purse out of the way, and emptied the bottle of lighter fluid from the grill on the body. Striking a match, she gave a quick nod to her former friend, and tossed the flame her way. The body blazed instantaneously. Taking one last look at the life of her former self, Angela tossed her wallet on the body. Olivia's car keys in hand, Angela slipped away.
Six hours later.
Twelve hours later.
Two days later.
After five days of waiting for the sirens, her pulse racing with every knock on Olivia's door, Angela began to relax. News of the death of Angela Horn spread around the neighborhood. Never had Angela been so well liked. Never before had she been as pretty, as smart, as fondly remembered as when she had been beaten and set on fire by a crazy local homeless person. “A shining star”, her boss called her to the Channel 4 news camera. “My best friend in the WHOLE WORLD!” her roommate called her. She had a lot of new best friends. No one really noticed Olivia Soothson hadn't been showing up to work or answering her phone calls.
After writing the proper goodbye and fuck you notes to Olivia's work, family and boyfriend, Angela got in the car and headed south. She stopped at a charming, quaint boarder town and secured a job at the local university. While teaching there, she met an up and coming local politician, married him, and became a spoiled trophy wife. Their three beautiful children went on to become important pillars in the community and every year the family would go on a cruise an~~~
A loud honk snapped Angela back to reality. She had followed Ophelia into the middle of the street, right in front of a blue pick up. She smiled sheepishly and stepped back on the curb. From across the street, Ophelia turned around, frowned, and kept walking, her little hips sashaying importantly away. The brick weighed heavy in Angela's hand. She stepped across the street.
“Well”, she said to herself, her fingers tightening around the brick. “You've gone this far. Can't back out now.”
She took a deep breath, swung, and connected the brick to the back of the other girl's head. The crack of a fresh coconut cut the silence. Then a startled “oh!”, an innocent, surprised oh, the sound of someone walking in on their parents kissing, and Ophelia hit the ground. Angela was on her immediately.
With all her strength and frustration and anger, Angela raised the brick over the fallen girl's head, and brought it back down. Again and again the brick connected with Ophelia's head. Again and again a slippery thwok rang out, the brick in Angela's right hand getting redder and redder with the warm wetness of the inside of Ophelia's skull.
Ophelia's back spazzed out. Her arms shot straight out in front of her, superman style style. As her blood splayed the sidewalk, her legs comically kicked and jiggled, a dying clown. As Angela's blows scraped Ophelia's face against the sidewalk, breaking her teeth and tearing her cheek open, Ophelia lost control of her bowels.
Again and again Angela brought the brick down, till her fingers were cramped, her knuckles were torn and raw, and a deep concave had formed in Ophelia's skull. Ten times, twenty times... Angela couldn't count. All she could do was repeat the same forceful motion, red eyed and breathing through her teeth.
Soon, Ophelia stopped moving. Angela slowed, and stopped. Her dark olive sweater was covered in blood. Flecks of bone and tissue specked her glasses. She pulled a long blonde, bloody hair out of her mouth. Throwing the chipped and bloody brick to the side, Angela stood up to assess her work.
“Oh. Look at that” was the first thing that popped into Angela's head. “This is probably the first time I've ever seen Ophelia with a hair out of place”, was the second.
More than just a hair was out of place. Ophelia's long blonde locks weren't even blonde any more. A whole chunk was missing, ripped away to expose the shy skull underneath. A dark stain collected around her crotch, leaking out the sides of her tiny miniskirt. It matched the maroon puddle growing under her head, and the sick stink of shit and copper weaving its way through the air.
The adrenaline built up in Angela's head behind her eyes started to melt its way down her body and out the soles of her shoes. In its place came creeping the realization of what she had just done. She was going to get in sooo much trouble. The fact that no cars had come down this usually busy street... that no neighbors were walking dogs or on the streets... there were no curious faces peering out windows... Angela had been very lucky so far. But luck runs out. Her shoulders shuddered in remorse for what she'd done. Not because she killed someone she had known since before either of them had mastered the art of shoe tying; she didn't regret that at all. But she mourned the consequences that were to come.
After a few minutes of quick panic, Angela gathered her resolve. No. She was not going to spend the rest of her life in jail. She was going to get away with this. Angela grabbed Ophelia's right arm and dragged her lifeless body to the patch of shady trees between the neighborhood houses. Ophelias body flopped. Blood trailed behind her. Her arm twisted out of its socket. Ducking behind some underbrush, Angela spotted a grill leaning against the nearest house. Right away she realizes what she has to do.
Angela undressed the dead girl. Ophelia's cardigan was covered in blood, and her dress was stained with piss and shit. Angela put them on anyway. Her own clothes got even more blood spackled on them when she put them on Ophelia. Angela pulled Opelia's purse out of the way, and emptied the bottle of lighter fluid from the grill on the body. Striking a match, she gave a quick nod to her former friend, and tossed the flame her way. The body blazed instantaneously. Taking one last look at the life of her former self, Angela tossed her wallet on the body. Olivia's car keys in hand, Angela slipped away.
Six hours later.
Twelve hours later.
Two days later.
After five days of waiting for the sirens, her pulse racing with every knock on Olivia's door, Angela began to relax. News of the death of Angela Horn spread around the neighborhood. Never had Angela been so well liked. Never before had she been as pretty, as smart, as fondly remembered as when she had been beaten and set on fire by a crazy local homeless person. “A shining star”, her boss called her to the Channel 4 news camera. “My best friend in the WHOLE WORLD!” her roommate called her. She had a lot of new best friends. No one really noticed Olivia Soothson hadn't been showing up to work or answering her phone calls.
After writing the proper goodbye and fuck you notes to Olivia's work, family and boyfriend, Angela got in the car and headed south. She stopped at a charming, quaint boarder town and secured a job at the local university. While teaching there, she met an up and coming local politician, married him, and became a spoiled trophy wife. Their three beautiful children went on to become important pillars in the community and every year the family would go on a cruise an~~~
A loud honk snapped Angela back to reality. She had followed Ophelia into the middle of the street, right in front of a blue pick up. She smiled sheepishly and stepped back on the curb. From across the street, Ophelia turned around, frowned, and kept walking, her little hips sashaying importantly away. The brick weighed heavy in Angela's hand. She stepped across the street.
“Well”, she said to herself, her fingers tightening around the brick. “You've gone this far. Can't back out now.”
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Ten Songs
Someone asked me recently to list ten songs that meant something to me. Songs that inspired me, songs that were associated with special memories or people.
Here's my list, as it was. Thinking about it now days later, its still true
1. Dangling Conversation - Simon and Garfunkel
This was my mum's music, and in high school I stole the cassette (parsley sage, rosemary and thyme) and played it to death because it reminded me of her blasting it all over the house when we were kids. This is my fav of the album.
2. Piano Man - Billy Joel
Same reason. And a great song
3. Orange Colored Sky - Nat King Cole (and me!)
I sang this with my jazz band when I was a senior in high school. It was awesome.
4. Ring Out Wild Bells - Alfred Lord Tennyson (lyrics)
I sang this with the region choir Jr year of HS. It was prob the most difficult song I've ever sung with a choir, but the night we preformed it, on stage with a few hundred people, a grand piano, and a giant auditorium, the swell of sound around and in me made me want to cry. It was beautiful and magical. I know that sounds kinda lame, but its true.
5. Float On - Modest Mouse
They're one of my fav bands, and when I saw them live was when I realized how much this song meant to me. Its a song about smilin through the hard times. Yeah.
6. The News From Your Bed - Bishop Allen
This band means a lot to me because my Sr year of HS I won a writing contest and got a script I wrote turned into a short film. This band let me use one of their songs as our main song. This song was not it, but it's the most listened to song on my itunes. Its about being alone on you birthday, but its totally upbeat. You'll have to hear it.
7. No Rain - Blind Melon
Blind Melon is an extremely underrated band. They've got an awesome discography, but this, their one hit, was my favorite song for a long time. It just makes me happy, ya know?
8. Sweet Caroline -Neil Diamond
Duh
9. It Doesn't Matter Anymore – Eva Cassidy
This is a cover of a Buddy Holly song by a dead girl with one of the most beautiful voices in the world. Helped me though some bad heartbreak. And its so, so pretty.
10. Playground Love – Air
Seeeeexxxy sexy song.
Honorable mentions:
shove it: Santigold
anything by the beatles (I can't pick just one album, let alone one song)
Sour Times: Portishead (the live version)
So Desperate: The Mountain Goats
I'm Always Chasing Rainbows: (only when sung by me)
Something off Paul Simon's Graceland
Here's my list, as it was. Thinking about it now days later, its still true
1. Dangling Conversation - Simon and Garfunkel
This was my mum's music, and in high school I stole the cassette (parsley sage, rosemary and thyme) and played it to death because it reminded me of her blasting it all over the house when we were kids. This is my fav of the album.
2. Piano Man - Billy Joel
Same reason. And a great song
3. Orange Colored Sky - Nat King Cole (and me!)
I sang this with my jazz band when I was a senior in high school. It was awesome.
4. Ring Out Wild Bells - Alfred Lord Tennyson (lyrics)
I sang this with the region choir Jr year of HS. It was prob the most difficult song I've ever sung with a choir, but the night we preformed it, on stage with a few hundred people, a grand piano, and a giant auditorium, the swell of sound around and in me made me want to cry. It was beautiful and magical. I know that sounds kinda lame, but its true.
5. Float On - Modest Mouse
They're one of my fav bands, and when I saw them live was when I realized how much this song meant to me. Its a song about smilin through the hard times. Yeah.
6. The News From Your Bed - Bishop Allen
This band means a lot to me because my Sr year of HS I won a writing contest and got a script I wrote turned into a short film. This band let me use one of their songs as our main song. This song was not it, but it's the most listened to song on my itunes. Its about being alone on you birthday, but its totally upbeat. You'll have to hear it.
7. No Rain - Blind Melon
Blind Melon is an extremely underrated band. They've got an awesome discography, but this, their one hit, was my favorite song for a long time. It just makes me happy, ya know?
8. Sweet Caroline -Neil Diamond
Duh
9. It Doesn't Matter Anymore – Eva Cassidy
This is a cover of a Buddy Holly song by a dead girl with one of the most beautiful voices in the world. Helped me though some bad heartbreak. And its so, so pretty.
10. Playground Love – Air
Seeeeexxxy sexy song.
Honorable mentions:
shove it: Santigold
anything by the beatles (I can't pick just one album, let alone one song)
Sour Times: Portishead (the live version)
So Desperate: The Mountain Goats
I'm Always Chasing Rainbows: (only when sung by me)
Something off Paul Simon's Graceland
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Ascard
I'm scared to blog! I haven't done it in such a long time. Maybe because I'm afraid of having to think about what to say.
But I started thinking tonight. For the first time in a while.
I don't have any goals in my life right now. I'm just kinda coasting. And I think I'm finally at the point where that isn't enough. Where I need to stop focusing on young, dumb, momentary fun, and start making really awesome things happen in the futre.
Maybe this blog can help. Haven't been using it a lot lately, maybe it can be inspiration. Or just another tiny goal.
Ode To My Bike
My bike was stolen today.
RIP Sabrina.
The bike I learned to ride on.
Short, cheap, comfy - you were just like the man that bought me for you.
We had some good times.
You will be missed.
And hopefully, replaced soon.
But I started thinking tonight. For the first time in a while.
I don't have any goals in my life right now. I'm just kinda coasting. And I think I'm finally at the point where that isn't enough. Where I need to stop focusing on young, dumb, momentary fun, and start making really awesome things happen in the futre.
Maybe this blog can help. Haven't been using it a lot lately, maybe it can be inspiration. Or just another tiny goal.
Ode To My Bike
My bike was stolen today.
RIP Sabrina.
The bike I learned to ride on.
Short, cheap, comfy - you were just like the man that bought me for you.
We had some good times.
You will be missed.
And hopefully, replaced soon.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
I rode my bike home from work today, like I do every day. Every day, in one way or another I have to go up the side of that hill I live on. I know I will grow to hate that hill. I'm going to curse it, and dread it and avoid it. I'll pant, and sweat, and get so sick of having to treck home- even though climbing six flights of stairs was worse- that I'm not going to be able to stand it.
And then, soon after that, I'm going to conquer it.
I'll bike up that hill like I was being carried. It'll be easy, and my legs will be strong and show it. And I'll be proud of the hill and how hard it made me work.
Some days, I'll hate the hill again.
But I'll also know that I conquered it. And that makes it easier.
The bike ride home at night is short. However, its a cool bike ride, and I've always wanted to write a poem about it.
The absurd stillness of the empty street.
The blinding headlights.
The trees stretching over the street like an awning.
Like Hands.
A thousand tragic accidents replay over and over in my head,
thrilling and scaring me.
I stay extra alert.
And then, soon after that, I'm going to conquer it.
I'll bike up that hill like I was being carried. It'll be easy, and my legs will be strong and show it. And I'll be proud of the hill and how hard it made me work.
Some days, I'll hate the hill again.
But I'll also know that I conquered it. And that makes it easier.
The bike ride home at night is short. However, its a cool bike ride, and I've always wanted to write a poem about it.
The absurd stillness of the empty street.
The blinding headlights.
The trees stretching over the street like an awning.
Like Hands.
A thousand tragic accidents replay over and over in my head,
thrilling and scaring me.
I stay extra alert.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Fuck You
Copied from a myspace bulletin.
Our most versatile word. By its stress and inflection it
can describe many emotions. It can be used as a noun (I
don't give a fuck), as an objective (it's fucked), as a
verb in it's transitive form (the game was fucked up by
the weather), and it's intransitive form (I'll be fucked),
in the present tense (I'm fucked), in the past tense (I
was fucked).
It can be an an adverb (Mary is fucking interested in
John). It can also be used as an adjective(Mary is fucking
beautiful) or an interjection (Fuck! I'm late for my date
with Mary).
It can even be used as a conjunction (Mary is easy, fuck
she's also stupid). As you can see, there are very few
words with the overall versatility of the word "fuck".
Many everyday expresions show it's true versatility ...
Denial -----------I didn't fucking do it
Perplexity -----------I know fuck all about it
Apathy------------ Who really gives a fuck, anyhow?
Greetings------------ How the fuck are you
Resignation-------- Oh fuck it
Derision ----------He fucks everything up
Suspicion ---------Who the fuck are you
Panic------------- Let's get the fuck out of here
Directions ----------Fuck off
Disbelief ---------How the fuck did you do that
Fraud ------------- I got fucked by the car dealer.
Trouble ---------- I guess I'm fucked now.
Aggression ----------FUCK YOU!
Disgust ---------------Fuck me.
Confusion ------------What the fuck.......?
Difficulty -------- I don't understand this fucking business!
Despair --------- Fucked again...
Pleasure-------- I fucking couldn't be happier.
Displeasure---------- What the fuck is going on here?
Lost -------------Where the fuck are we.
Disbelief----------- UNFUCKINGBELIEVABLE!
Retaliation----------- Up your fucking ass!
The word has been used throughout history by many famous
people. Some of the more notable quotations are:
What the fuck was that
-- The Mayor of Hiroshima
Look at all the fucking Indians
-- General Custer
Where's all that fucking water come from
-- Noah
Any fucker can understand that
-- Einstien
It fucking looks like her
-- Picasso
Where the fuck are we
-- Christopher Columbus
I'm fucking blowing bubbles
-- Michael Jackson
How the fuck do you work that out
-- Pythagarus
You want what on the fucking ceiling
-- Michael Angelo
Fuck a duck
-- Walt Disney
Why? Because it's fucking there
-- Sir Edmond Hillary
I don't suppose it's fucking raining
-- Joan of Arc
I didn't want to fucking go anyway
-- Sebastian Coe
I haven't got a fucking clue
-- Miss Marples
Scattered showers my fucking arse
-- Noah
She wants how much fucking money?!?!?
-- Donald Trump
Look! Almost every fucking kernel popped!
-- Orville Reddenbacher
We'll fucking smoke those fuckers out of their fucking caves!
-- George W. Bush
The mind fairly boggles at the many creative uses of the word. How can anyone be offended when you say "Fuck"? Use it frequently in your daily speech; it will add to your prestige
Today say to someone "FUCK YOU"
Our most versatile word. By its stress and inflection it
can describe many emotions. It can be used as a noun (I
don't give a fuck), as an objective (it's fucked), as a
verb in it's transitive form (the game was fucked up by
the weather), and it's intransitive form (I'll be fucked),
in the present tense (I'm fucked), in the past tense (I
was fucked).
It can be an an adverb (Mary is fucking interested in
John). It can also be used as an adjective(Mary is fucking
beautiful) or an interjection (Fuck! I'm late for my date
with Mary).
It can even be used as a conjunction (Mary is easy, fuck
she's also stupid). As you can see, there are very few
words with the overall versatility of the word "fuck".
Many everyday expresions show it's true versatility ...
Denial -----------I didn't fucking do it
Perplexity -----------I know fuck all about it
Apathy-
Greetings-
Resignation-
Derision ----------He fucks everything up
Suspicion ---------Who the fuck are you
Panic-
Directions ----------Fuck off
Disbelief ---------How the fuck did you do that
Fraud ------------- I got fucked by the car dealer.
Trouble ---------- I guess I'm fucked now.
Aggression ----------FUCK YOU!
Disgust -
Confusion -
Difficulty -------- I don't understand this fucking business!
Despair --------- Fucked again...
Pleasure-
Displeasure-
Lost -
Disbelief-
Retaliation-
The word has been used throughout history by many famous
people. Some of the more notable quotations are:
What the fuck was that
-- The Mayor of Hiroshima
Look at all the fucking Indians
-- General Custer
Where's all that fucking water come from
-- Noah
Any fucker can understand that
-- Einstien
It fucking looks like her
-- Picasso
Where the fuck are we
-- Christopher Columbus
I'm fucking blowing bubbles
-- Michael Jackson
How the fuck do you work that out
-- Pythagarus
You want what on the fucking ceiling
-- Michael Angelo
Fuck a duck
-- Walt Disney
Why? Because it's fucking there
-- Sir Edmond Hillary
I don't suppose it's fucking raining
-- Joan of Arc
I didn't want to fucking go anyway
-- Sebastian Coe
I haven't got a fucking clue
-- Miss Marples
Scattered showers my fucking arse
-- Noah
She wants how much fucking money?!?!?
-- Donald Trump
Look! Almost every fucking kernel popped!
-- Orville Reddenbacher
We'll fucking smoke those fuckers out of their fucking caves!
-- George W. Bush
The mind fairly boggles at the many creative uses of the word. How can anyone be offended when you say "Fuck"? Use it frequently in your daily speech; it will add to your prestige
Today say to someone "FUCK YOU"
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Exerpt
I've always been a pretty successful person, considering. I wasn't born into this world with a lot of money, family stability or connections, but for my age and demographic, in my hometown, I was always kinda a star.
I was choir president my Senior Year of High School, President of the theatre club for the second year in a row, went to state competitions for various things three times that year and shot a sex ed film that is shown in classrooms all over the world now. I also starred in three plays and acted in two more. This is just an overview of what I was doin with myself when I wasn't in class (which wasn't a lot- I skipped at least one class a day, usually) or working (my senior year I worked at Hooters), or smoking, or fucking. I'm not trying to brag. I'm just sayin that I've always excelled at what I did. And that's just senior year.
I think it's cuz I had goals.
Now... I feel like I don't do anything I can put down on paper as "acomplishments". Yeah, I honestly love my life, and much happier than I was in High school.... But I'm not DOING anything with myself. Sure, I stay busy and active, and yes, I'm going to school, but I'm not even working on a degree! I'm jut takin classes and working to support my lifestyle. I have no savings or long term plans that make me want to save. I'd rather spend that extra twenty bucks on a gram.
I can see very easily how someone can end up working in a restaurant when they're 40.
But I don't want that to be me! I'm concious of whats goin on, so now I just gotta do something about it. I just don't know what...
Thank God I'm still young. I got an excuse. But if I'm in the same place in five years, or even three, that I am today, I'm going to get very nurvous.
When I daydream about my future, I see myself successful. Changing the world and affecting lives. But that don't mean shit unless I do something between now and then besides sit around and wait for it to happen.
It sucks that all my short term goals deal with money. If I gotta spend so much time focusing on rent, or work, or how I'm going to pay for this or that, when do I get to focus on L I V I N! not to mention my future.
Thats why the poor stay poor. They don't have any time to daydream.
I was choir president my Senior Year of High School, President of the theatre club for the second year in a row, went to state competitions for various things three times that year and shot a sex ed film that is shown in classrooms all over the world now. I also starred in three plays and acted in two more. This is just an overview of what I was doin with myself when I wasn't in class (which wasn't a lot- I skipped at least one class a day, usually) or working (my senior year I worked at Hooters), or smoking, or fucking. I'm not trying to brag. I'm just sayin that I've always excelled at what I did. And that's just senior year.
I think it's cuz I had goals.
Now... I feel like I don't do anything I can put down on paper as "acomplishments". Yeah, I honestly love my life, and much happier than I was in High school.... But I'm not DOING anything with myself. Sure, I stay busy and active, and yes, I'm going to school, but I'm not even working on a degree! I'm jut takin classes and working to support my lifestyle. I have no savings or long term plans that make me want to save. I'd rather spend that extra twenty bucks on a gram.
I can see very easily how someone can end up working in a restaurant when they're 40.
But I don't want that to be me! I'm concious of whats goin on, so now I just gotta do something about it. I just don't know what...
Thank God I'm still young. I got an excuse. But if I'm in the same place in five years, or even three, that I am today, I'm going to get very nurvous.
When I daydream about my future, I see myself successful. Changing the world and affecting lives. But that don't mean shit unless I do something between now and then besides sit around and wait for it to happen.
It sucks that all my short term goals deal with money. If I gotta spend so much time focusing on rent, or work, or how I'm going to pay for this or that, when do I get to focus on L I V I N! not to mention my future.
Thats why the poor stay poor. They don't have any time to daydream.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
A Book Year in Review
So on Facebook I keep a list of all the books I read. Today, as I was adding the latest to the list (The Darwin Awards- I didn't say every book was heady. Light reading is fun too) I realized it's been one year since I started keeping track. I figure now is the time to do a lil recap, a look back on my year in books.
I read 3o books this last year. The first was "What Makes A Man", a book I borrowed from an ex-coworker who left the job before I could return the book. I still have it. I read about two books a month. In December, a busy month where I camped, partied, visited my folks, turned 20 and got away from myself a little too much, I didn't read any. I made up for it in January where I read six books, and all before school started.
So here's a recap of my year, awards show style.
BEST: "Haunted", Chuck Philanuk's newest book. I devoured it in a weekend curled up in bed during a chilly November cold front. It was about a group of writers trapped in a house for a month together, all tourturing themselves to get the best story. A book for a writer, by a writer, and haunted me for a while. I love books that stay with you.
Runner-up:"Elephant's on Acid" was a book I read last July on the floor of my living room at my last apt. It was also a quick read (all the best books are) and was just a collection of reports of the strangest experiements. I'm such a nerd for odd scientific data.
MOST INSPIRING: "Rule By Secrecy" This was about the secret societies that really run the world and their hidden agendas. It got me all passionate about conspiracy theories and had me sproutin crazy alien talk (read the book to understand) for a few months.
Runner-up: "Nickel and Dimed" a fairly famous book by a woman who *gasp* joined the working class for a few months. It made me realize how much I didn't want to be waiting tables when I'm thirty.
MOST FORGETABLE: "Simply Irrisistable" must not have been, cuz I don't remember reading it at all. I hope it was good. Yeah, it was a year ago that I picked it up, but I guess that's why I should keep track of the books I read even more. I've probably read hundreds of books in my lifetime that I couldn't name.
Runner-up: "The Most of It" Don't have anything to say about this one either. I can't even tell you what the cover looked like.
BOOK I HAD ALWAYS WANTED TO READ BUT NEVER HAD GOTTEN AROUND TO: "Gone With the Wind" Hands down one of my favorite movies, so it's weird that I read the book. Having read it, I have to give the screenwriter a pat on the back for doing such a good job on the translation from book to screen. The only thing missing besides a few useless characters (Like Scarlett's other children) was the racism. The movie probably wouldn't have aged as well as it has. Props for keeping that off the screen.
Runner-up: "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil" Not a bad book, but I wondered where all the hype was coming from.
I read 3o books this last year. The first was "What Makes A Man", a book I borrowed from an ex-coworker who left the job before I could return the book. I still have it. I read about two books a month. In December, a busy month where I camped, partied, visited my folks, turned 20 and got away from myself a little too much, I didn't read any. I made up for it in January where I read six books, and all before school started.
So here's a recap of my year, awards show style.
BEST: "Haunted", Chuck Philanuk's newest book. I devoured it in a weekend curled up in bed during a chilly November cold front. It was about a group of writers trapped in a house for a month together, all tourturing themselves to get the best story. A book for a writer, by a writer, and haunted me for a while. I love books that stay with you.
Runner-up:"Elephant's on Acid" was a book I read last July on the floor of my living room at my last apt. It was also a quick read (all the best books are) and was just a collection of reports of the strangest experiements. I'm such a nerd for odd scientific data.
MOST INSPIRING: "Rule By Secrecy" This was about the secret societies that really run the world and their hidden agendas. It got me all passionate about conspiracy theories and had me sproutin crazy alien talk (read the book to understand) for a few months.
Runner-up: "Nickel and Dimed" a fairly famous book by a woman who *gasp* joined the working class for a few months. It made me realize how much I didn't want to be waiting tables when I'm thirty.
MOST FORGETABLE: "Simply Irrisistable" must not have been, cuz I don't remember reading it at all. I hope it was good. Yeah, it was a year ago that I picked it up, but I guess that's why I should keep track of the books I read even more. I've probably read hundreds of books in my lifetime that I couldn't name.
Runner-up: "The Most of It" Don't have anything to say about this one either. I can't even tell you what the cover looked like.
BOOK I HAD ALWAYS WANTED TO READ BUT NEVER HAD GOTTEN AROUND TO: "Gone With the Wind" Hands down one of my favorite movies, so it's weird that I read the book. Having read it, I have to give the screenwriter a pat on the back for doing such a good job on the translation from book to screen. The only thing missing besides a few useless characters (Like Scarlett's other children) was the racism. The movie probably wouldn't have aged as well as it has. Props for keeping that off the screen.
Runner-up: "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil" Not a bad book, but I wondered where all the hype was coming from.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
I feel a pull back to blogging.
I've been dreaming more, and three times in the last month someone said to me "You should write a blog". Well, surprise, surprise, I already have one! And it's full with unfinished blogs that aren't seen on this front page, posts that ramble, that had good points that are lost now (I started many at the end of long nights) and posts that are never going to be published. But I also have a lot to say. Good things, I think. And with my summer free time, its something I really want to get back into.
I will have to ease myself back into the blogging pool slowly, but eventually I'll submerge myself and get back to enjoying writing for writings sake
I've been dreaming more, and three times in the last month someone said to me "You should write a blog". Well, surprise, surprise, I already have one! And it's full with unfinished blogs that aren't seen on this front page, posts that ramble, that had good points that are lost now (I started many at the end of long nights) and posts that are never going to be published. But I also have a lot to say. Good things, I think. And with my summer free time, its something I really want to get back into.
I will have to ease myself back into the blogging pool slowly, but eventually I'll submerge myself and get back to enjoying writing for writings sake
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Reggaefest Recap
At the beginning of the fall semester this year, I made a promise to myself to see as much live music as possible. Unlike my promise to quit smoking weed, I actually kept this one. Last semester, I saw Eryka Badu, Nine Inch Nails, and (my fav of the semester) The Mountain Goats, among others. Not all in the same concert, of course. Although that would have been awesome.
But then I got to thinkin. What's the next step on that? I'm seeing all these amazing bands live. Decades from now I'm going to be telling my kids and grandkids about how I hung out with the lead singer of the Easy*Star All-Stars after the concert and trying to recreate that magical, after-an-Experience, walking-on-air, almost-spiritual feeling of seeing Modest Mouse rock it and rock it hard. But with my long-term memory (it's bad) and the years in between, the chance of me being able to do justice to these magic moments is dim. So I'm going to start keeping track of every live concert I go to, be it a $40 headliner at Stubbs or a guy and his guitar at a cafe.
Take this weekend for instance. :)
It was Reggaefest in my dear little city, and I had the pleasure of going yesterday. I only got to see two bands, but they were both Awesome in every sense of the word. Notice the capital A.
The first was Grimy Styles, a band I'd heard of, but before last night couldn't tell you one word about. Now I know they're an instrumental local reggae band who know how to kick off the dub sound right. Seriously, these guys just made me want to dance, despite my... uh... lethargic state of mind. I remember sitting on that white felt blanket, the sun turning the top of my head hot, unable to keep my eyes open but grooving anyway. I remember that, despite my toes pinching in my cute red cowboy boots and the fact that just minutes before I had been aching to sit down, I kept asking my people if they wanted to get up and dance with me.
This is the stuff I want to remember. The little moments, the ones that disappear first. I'll always remember* that yes, I went to Reggaefest 2009, and yes, I saw Grimy Styles before I knew who they were, but the details and the moments of complete and pure happiness, the jokes told and real live connections with the music will get lost. That's why I'm doing this, to keep those.
Another aside: I really love that experience of not knowing anything about an artist, seeing them live, and falling in love with their music. I feel like it's the most pure way to enjoy music. You don't have any prior thoughts from other people, no Rolling Stone shout-outs, or half-heard singles floating out of your radio to influence your opinion of what you're listening to. Your affection (or lack of it; I've been exposed to bands I didn't like this way as well) is purely organic, grown out of what is happening right there in front of you. It's the realist form of musical love, something I care a lot about.
Point is, I feel like the relationship story I will have with Grimy Styles will begin like this. Too bad I can't find any of their music downloadable online. Maybe I will actually have to (gasp!) buy their album. It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. :)
I also got to see The Skatalites after them. (like that smooth translation?) I am ashamed to admit I didn't know anything about these reggae legends either. I know now that they've been around FOREVER, and rocked it like band that deserved decade-old** success. They were amazing. (I'm sorry my reviews will be unprofessionally vague. Awesome, amazing, and rockin are all synonyms and they all apply) I got the coveted front-and-center spot to dance in due to waiting around almost an hour between sets***, and the trumpet player pointed at me after a song. (!!) Twice, according to my roomie. I remember seeing him walk out of a porti potty before the show dressed in jeans and a Marley shirt. I remember having a thought about how intelligent he looked (and it wasn't just the glasses) and wondering if he was in a band that played that day. Then I thought they must have better bathrooms for the performers, that it would be pretty shitty (no pun intended) if they didn't, and wondering how I could get access to those bathrooms, and if waiting after the show to talk to the band would be the way to go. Funny, if I had, I bet I could have hung out with em a little bit, or at least get a cool conversation. Trumpet man obviously dug me.
*God willing, unless Alzheimer's Disease or some freak Memento-style memory loss takes my past before I'm gone.
**I like how hypen-filled this blog is. See? Did it again!
***I should note, out of respect, that most of the waiting was done by my amazing roommate. I took a porti potty break. I should also note this was only the second concert I'd seen with my beloved roomie, after Saul Williams last October. Hopefully, they'll be many more.
But then I got to thinkin. What's the next step on that? I'm seeing all these amazing bands live. Decades from now I'm going to be telling my kids and grandkids about how I hung out with the lead singer of the Easy*Star All-Stars after the concert and trying to recreate that magical, after-an-Experience, walking-on-air, almost-spiritual feeling of seeing Modest Mouse rock it and rock it hard. But with my long-term memory (it's bad) and the years in between, the chance of me being able to do justice to these magic moments is dim. So I'm going to start keeping track of every live concert I go to, be it a $40 headliner at Stubbs or a guy and his guitar at a cafe.
Take this weekend for instance. :)
It was Reggaefest in my dear little city, and I had the pleasure of going yesterday. I only got to see two bands, but they were both Awesome in every sense of the word. Notice the capital A.
The first was Grimy Styles, a band I'd heard of, but before last night couldn't tell you one word about. Now I know they're an instrumental local reggae band who know how to kick off the dub sound right. Seriously, these guys just made me want to dance, despite my... uh... lethargic state of mind. I remember sitting on that white felt blanket, the sun turning the top of my head hot, unable to keep my eyes open but grooving anyway. I remember that, despite my toes pinching in my cute red cowboy boots and the fact that just minutes before I had been aching to sit down, I kept asking my people if they wanted to get up and dance with me.
This is the stuff I want to remember. The little moments, the ones that disappear first. I'll always remember* that yes, I went to Reggaefest 2009, and yes, I saw Grimy Styles before I knew who they were, but the details and the moments of complete and pure happiness, the jokes told and real live connections with the music will get lost. That's why I'm doing this, to keep those.
Another aside: I really love that experience of not knowing anything about an artist, seeing them live, and falling in love with their music. I feel like it's the most pure way to enjoy music. You don't have any prior thoughts from other people, no Rolling Stone shout-outs, or half-heard singles floating out of your radio to influence your opinion of what you're listening to. Your affection (or lack of it; I've been exposed to bands I didn't like this way as well) is purely organic, grown out of what is happening right there in front of you. It's the realist form of musical love, something I care a lot about.
Point is, I feel like the relationship story I will have with Grimy Styles will begin like this. Too bad I can't find any of their music downloadable online. Maybe I will actually have to (gasp!) buy their album. It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. :)
I also got to see The Skatalites after them. (like that smooth translation?) I am ashamed to admit I didn't know anything about these reggae legends either. I know now that they've been around FOREVER, and rocked it like band that deserved decade-old** success. They were amazing. (I'm sorry my reviews will be unprofessionally vague. Awesome, amazing, and rockin are all synonyms and they all apply) I got the coveted front-and-center spot to dance in due to waiting around almost an hour between sets***, and the trumpet player pointed at me after a song. (!!) Twice, according to my roomie. I remember seeing him walk out of a porti potty before the show dressed in jeans and a Marley shirt. I remember having a thought about how intelligent he looked (and it wasn't just the glasses) and wondering if he was in a band that played that day. Then I thought they must have better bathrooms for the performers, that it would be pretty shitty (no pun intended) if they didn't, and wondering how I could get access to those bathrooms, and if waiting after the show to talk to the band would be the way to go. Funny, if I had, I bet I could have hung out with em a little bit, or at least get a cool conversation. Trumpet man obviously dug me.
*God willing, unless Alzheimer's Disease or some freak Memento-style memory loss takes my past before I'm gone.
**I like how hypen-filled this blog is. See? Did it again!
***I should note, out of respect, that most of the waiting was done by my amazing roommate. I took a porti potty break. I should also note this was only the second concert I'd seen with my beloved roomie, after Saul Williams last October. Hopefully, they'll be many more.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Story
The sweat starts in pearls bubbling up on her forehead. It runs down the canyons formed by her furrowed bows until it drips like snot off the end of her nose. The rhythmic puff of air blown out through her teeth sends each drop flying into the air in front of her face. She doesn't notice.
She doesn't notice the sweat river down her face, or the pools forming under her arms, or the lakes rising in the cups of her bra. She doesn't notice the sun in her eyes and how the squint it's glare gives her makes her look both confused and angry. She doesn't notice the street her body carries her down like a balloon, or the houses she passes and all the secrets trapped inside each one. She doesn't see the double-take from the good looking blond she passes, and would have stepped right in front of the moving van if it's loud horn hadn't snapped her out of her jogging trance.
But only for a second. And then, again, she looses herself in the rhythm of her feet. Her heart and mind live in her knees, air born for a second that lasts a lifetime... weightless and free... and then, as her feet connect with the concrete, compact like a spring. The purple and orange soundwaves echoing from her feet is the music she runs to; her ipod exists in her head. Her shoulders swing like a pendulum, her arms move as if they were controlled by someone else.
"Steady, Jessica...''
Her target, the reason for her run, slowly pulls her out of her jogging trance. Focus comes back, and her peripheral vision clears. As she watches what is currently just a dark green dot, she slows a bit. As details clear and the green dot forms the shape of a park bench, Jessica takes one deep breath, as if to gather her entire being, all her strength and every thought into one ball into her chest. With a woosh, she frees it all and breaks out into a sprint.
She doesn't notice the sweat river down her face, or the pools forming under her arms, or the lakes rising in the cups of her bra. She doesn't notice the sun in her eyes and how the squint it's glare gives her makes her look both confused and angry. She doesn't notice the street her body carries her down like a balloon, or the houses she passes and all the secrets trapped inside each one. She doesn't see the double-take from the good looking blond she passes, and would have stepped right in front of the moving van if it's loud horn hadn't snapped her out of her jogging trance.
But only for a second. And then, again, she looses herself in the rhythm of her feet. Her heart and mind live in her knees, air born for a second that lasts a lifetime... weightless and free... and then, as her feet connect with the concrete, compact like a spring. The purple and orange soundwaves echoing from her feet is the music she runs to; her ipod exists in her head. Her shoulders swing like a pendulum, her arms move as if they were controlled by someone else.
"Steady, Jessica...''
Her target, the reason for her run, slowly pulls her out of her jogging trance. Focus comes back, and her peripheral vision clears. As she watches what is currently just a dark green dot, she slows a bit. As details clear and the green dot forms the shape of a park bench, Jessica takes one deep breath, as if to gather her entire being, all her strength and every thought into one ball into her chest. With a woosh, she frees it all and breaks out into a sprint.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Habit Breaking
I googled "Breaking A Habit," today. Who knew Lincoln Park had a song of that name?
Attitude is everything. I liked the habit breaking tips that had hippie-dippy answers like, "You must visualize your successes," and "If you believe it, you can be it." Attitude is everything.
Staying busy is a good way to get something off your mind as well. It's easy to get distracted by something shiny, and sometimes that's a good thing.
Have you noticed that when you have a wound of some sort, the area around it is very warm? It's all that extra attention and energy your body thrown around the sore. I cut my finger yesterday on my washing machine, and my knuckle is the warmest part of my body.
Attitude is everything. I liked the habit breaking tips that had hippie-dippy answers like, "You must visualize your successes," and "If you believe it, you can be it." Attitude is everything.
Staying busy is a good way to get something off your mind as well. It's easy to get distracted by something shiny, and sometimes that's a good thing.
Have you noticed that when you have a wound of some sort, the area around it is very warm? It's all that extra attention and energy your body thrown around the sore. I cut my finger yesterday on my washing machine, and my knuckle is the warmest part of my body.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Free Thought
I put on the song You're So Vain by Carly Simon and tried some random thought generating.
This is such a damn good song.
I wonder who this was written about?
I wish I had a song written about me.
Roxanna was written about Roxanna Arquette.
The entire Jagged Little Pill album was about that dude from Full House.
Ew.
That's such a good album- I can't believe it was about that white pasty guy.
You're So Vain reminds me certain people. It's a good break up song.
So is You Oughtta Know.
Damn, it's easy to get pissed off listening to this crap.
I'm overitoveritoveritoverit. Deep Inhale....
Annnnd.... breathe.
You told me you'd hold me until you died!!
I can't say any of this. I'll seem like a crazy person.
I don't need to give him the satisfaction of knowing I'm thinking about him anyway.
He knows.
But he misses me right now too.
I need to get laid.
Or dance. This is a really catchy song.
Or sing. This is a fun karaoke song.
New Status Update: Caroline cries.
This is such a damn good song.
I wonder who this was written about?
I wish I had a song written about me.
Roxanna was written about Roxanna Arquette.
The entire Jagged Little Pill album was about that dude from Full House.
Ew.
That's such a good album- I can't believe it was about that white pasty guy.
You're So Vain reminds me certain people. It's a good break up song.
So is You Oughtta Know.
Damn, it's easy to get pissed off listening to this crap.
I'm overitoveritoveritoverit. Deep Inhale....
Annnnd.... breathe.
You told me you'd hold me until you died!!
I can't say any of this. I'll seem like a crazy person.
I don't need to give him the satisfaction of knowing I'm thinking about him anyway.
He knows.
But he misses me right now too.
I need to get laid.
Or dance. This is a really catchy song.
Or sing. This is a fun karaoke song.
New Status Update: Caroline cries.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Facebook is taking up too much of my time lately. It's the first thing I check when I wake up in the morning, before I leave my house, and when I get home. Before dinner, after walking my dog, during a commercial break. I check it anytime I get on the computer and always first. Currently, Facebook is open in another tab of my browser right now.
I'm not proud of this. In fact, I'm pretty fuckin annoyed at myself. Yes, I keep in touch with certian people on facebook that I wouldn't get to otherwise. I also get to see their photos from their weekend, read what their friends from 6th grade write on their wall, and pay attention to what their are doing rightthisveryminute.
Nope, not proud of this at all.
I think I need a facation. A VAcation from FAcebook. [Damn I'm clever.] The thing making me hesitate more than anything is thinking about all those people that I only talk to on line... but I'll be back eventually, and I'll let em know first.
I think this will be good for me.
I am, also, a little dizzy from all these cleaning product fumes I've inhaled over the last couple hours, but that's why I'm taking a break from that.
I'm not proud of this. In fact, I'm pretty fuckin annoyed at myself. Yes, I keep in touch with certian people on facebook that I wouldn't get to otherwise. I also get to see their photos from their weekend, read what their friends from 6th grade write on their wall, and pay attention to what their are doing rightthisveryminute.
Nope, not proud of this at all.
I think I need a facation. A VAcation from FAcebook. [Damn I'm clever.] The thing making me hesitate more than anything is thinking about all those people that I only talk to on line... but I'll be back eventually, and I'll let em know first.
I think this will be good for me.
I am, also, a little dizzy from all these cleaning product fumes I've inhaled over the last couple hours, but that's why I'm taking a break from that.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Mz Independent
The other day, I heard something that made me think.
A friend was having a bad day. We all have our bad days, and the weight of hers read heavy on her face. But her reaction to it was really interesting. "I've been feeling like I need to have better boundaries lately," she said, her big eyes tired and a little wet. "And I think, that when you are trying to work on boundaries, the universe sends you situations to challenge your boundaries."
I agreed.
I also think that applies to any character trait. If you start thinking you need to work on your patience, you'll be stuck in traffic a lot more. If you want to improve your self discipline, you'll become bombarded by distractions. If you think you need more fidelity in your life, that hot chick at work will hit on you.
Our conversation got me thinking about the challenges in my life and what inner self improvements they could have stemmed from. Sales on cute clothes happen when I know I need to hang on to my money, and fun, exciting events are planned around days that I tell myself I need to focus. Then I started thinking about what I might need to work on right now. I'm big on self improvement, at least thinking about it. I decided the virtue needing most improvement in my life right now was independence. Since I was capable of forming my own thoughts, I've itched to do it on my own. And for the most part, I have. I was making my own decisons long before my peers were paying their own cellphone bills. The last few months, however, have found me backsliding a bit. Monday afternoon had me wondering, "how will the universe challenge me into regaining my independence?" Monday evening had my answer.
Turns out, the powers that be had been working on my ability to stand alone for a few months now. By driving me into the arms of someone who demanded my commitment but remained totally unreliable, by ripping my financial safety net out from under my free-falling body, the universe was showing me something that I had forgot. It's nice to rely on other people, but in the end, the only one you can hold accountable for your situation/happiness/safety is yourself.
I don't know what the next few months have in store for me, but I hope I can take the lessons of the last few months and learn from them. May I never put too much stake into another person again.
I posted this, then had to come back to clarify. I really like being in a relationship. I enjoy the stability that comes out of a partnership, and I like supporting another person as well. But there are ways to do that without loosing sight of yourself. And that's something the last six months can teach me.
A friend was having a bad day. We all have our bad days, and the weight of hers read heavy on her face. But her reaction to it was really interesting. "I've been feeling like I need to have better boundaries lately," she said, her big eyes tired and a little wet. "And I think, that when you are trying to work on boundaries, the universe sends you situations to challenge your boundaries."
I agreed.
I also think that applies to any character trait. If you start thinking you need to work on your patience, you'll be stuck in traffic a lot more. If you want to improve your self discipline, you'll become bombarded by distractions. If you think you need more fidelity in your life, that hot chick at work will hit on you.
Our conversation got me thinking about the challenges in my life and what inner self improvements they could have stemmed from. Sales on cute clothes happen when I know I need to hang on to my money, and fun, exciting events are planned around days that I tell myself I need to focus. Then I started thinking about what I might need to work on right now. I'm big on self improvement, at least thinking about it. I decided the virtue needing most improvement in my life right now was independence. Since I was capable of forming my own thoughts, I've itched to do it on my own. And for the most part, I have. I was making my own decisons long before my peers were paying their own cellphone bills. The last few months, however, have found me backsliding a bit. Monday afternoon had me wondering, "how will the universe challenge me into regaining my independence?" Monday evening had my answer.
Turns out, the powers that be had been working on my ability to stand alone for a few months now. By driving me into the arms of someone who demanded my commitment but remained totally unreliable, by ripping my financial safety net out from under my free-falling body, the universe was showing me something that I had forgot. It's nice to rely on other people, but in the end, the only one you can hold accountable for your situation/happiness/safety is yourself.
I don't know what the next few months have in store for me, but I hope I can take the lessons of the last few months and learn from them. May I never put too much stake into another person again.
I posted this, then had to come back to clarify. I really like being in a relationship. I enjoy the stability that comes out of a partnership, and I like supporting another person as well. But there are ways to do that without loosing sight of yourself. And that's something the last six months can teach me.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
15 Greats
Think of 15 albums, CDs, LPs (if you're over 40) that had such a profound effect on you they changed your life. Dug into your soul. Music that brought you to life when you heard it. Royally affected you, kicked you in the wazoo, literally socked you in the gut, is what I mean. Then when you finish, tag 15 others, including me. Make sure you copy and paste this part so they know the drill. Get the idea now? Good. Tag, you're it!
I love music, so this is going to be fun for me :) I think a great album is one you can listen through in it's entirety and be moved, even just physically, by every song. I don't think I could make an argument that any of these are the best album EVER, (maybe some of them belong in the top ten tho) but all of these albums affected me personally.
1. Abbey Road- The Beatles
Arguably the best Beatle album. It made me cry the first time I heard it all the way though.
2. Street Gospels- Bedouin Soundclash
Great pop-y Canadian reggae. The description sounds like trash, but not so. Every song is a great one.
3. Graceland- Paul Simon
An album of my childhood. :) Paul Simon created a whole new sound that has yet to be copied. And he did it flawlessly.
4. Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme- Simon and Garfunkel
Another album of my childhood. I used to listen to this on tape until I wore it out. Beautifully poetic lyrics.
5. Tallahassee- The Mountain Goats
A heart wrenching story-in-album-form about an unhappy couple. More outstandingly beautiful lyrics.
6. Good News For People Who Love Bad News- Modest Mouse
Maybe certain Modest Mouse fans would argue that this isn't their best album, but I don't care. For me, this works as a cohesive thought, a story about dealing with death. This album goes through every stage of grief with some damn good beats to back it up.
7. OK Computer- Radiohead
This album introduced me to Radiohead and stayed in my CD player for months on replay. What can I say about the greatness of this album that hasn't already been said?
8. Dark Side of the Moon- Pink Floyd.
Repeat what I said about OK Computer, but replace Radiohead with Pink Floyd.
9. The Virgin Suicides- Air
Seeeexy sexy music from one of my favorite french bands.
10. Living In Clip- Ani DiFranco
Girl power done right. When I listen to this album, I remember why I wanna be Ani.
11. Beck- Mellow Gold
Beck is awesome.
12. Bishop Allen- The Broken String
Light, fun pop music with a sweet sensibility. Every song is catchy, and every lyric a gem.
13. Danger Mouse- The Gray Album
A mix of the White Album (which is ANOTHER amazing album by the Beatles) and the Black Album by Jay-Z, which is a great album in and of itself. I'm already a huge fan of remixes and covers, so this album is perfect for me.
14. The Last Five Years- Jason Robert Brown
TECHNICALLY this is a musical, but as an album is how I first heard it. For a little theatre geek, I didn't listen to a lot of musical albums in high school, but due to great music, wonderful lyrics and a heartbreaking story, this one was constantly in my CD player.
15. Preemptive Strike - DJ Shadow
This album introduced me to my favorite DJ, and is still my favorite of his.
16. De Stijl - The White Stripes
The White Stripes (along with the Beatles and the Mountain Goats) round out my top three favorite bands. This album doesn't get a lot of attention, but in my opinion it's heads and tails above the rest of their amazing work
17. The White Album - The Beatles
This album is just the fab four havin fun and bein creative. Maybe not all of the songs are radio-friendly, but they're all great.r
18. Rubber Soul - The Beatles
The first Beatles album I heard all the way through (besides that 1 album they released a decade or so ago) Maybe I'm over representing the Beatles on this list, but only because their music has meant so much to me.
19. Radiodread/Dub Side Of The Moon - Easy Star All Stars
Maybe it's cheating to put two albums under one number, but both of these cover albums affected me in the same way- they took albums that already meant a lot to me and made them new. After hearing the reggae version of both these albums, I had a new respect and listening love for the original. Plus, I'm a huge fan of cover songs.
20. 2nd To None- Elvis Presley
This in not an actual album, but rather a compilation CD of his early work. This is how I learned to love Elvis, though.
21. You've Come A Long Way, Baby -Fatboy Slim
I don't listen to any other Fatboy Slim album, but I love this one. It's perfect 90's techno. Every song is great.
22. Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots -The Flaming Lips
How I loved the Flaming Lips. Plus, as you might notice, I really like albums that tell a story, which this does.
23. Roseland NYC [LIVE} - Portishead
I love Portishead, but this is the album I reach for most. Hearing Beth Gibbons WAIL on the live version of Sour Times still sends shivers down my spine. Its kinda funny that I like this album so much- I usually hate live albums
24. Birth of Cool - Miles Davis
When I was in high school, this album, along with the Billie Holiday album later on this list, made me love Jazz. Miles knows how to play a horn (understatement of the year)
25. Cold, Cold Heart - Hank Williams
This is another compilation album, but it's a great one. Hank is in my top ten fav artists, and this album introduced me to him.
26. Lady Sings The Blues - Billie Holiday
Yet another compilation album from a great artist dead decades before I was born. This album made me love jazz and blues.
27. Riot On An Empty Street - Kings Of Convenience
Someone gave me a burned copy of this CD when I was in high school. I listened to it aaallll the time until my mom stole it and scratched it up. I never knew the name of the album until I googled the lyrics (still bouncing around in my head) recently. It still sounds great after all these years.
28. Lhasa De Sela - The Living Road
My aunt sent this to my mom as a christmas present one year. She listened to it and decided she didn't like it so I snatched it up. Lhasa sings beautiful haunting old-worldy music in french, english, and spanish.
29. The Cool- Lupe Fiasco
The second studio album from one of my favorite hip-hop artists. This album (like a lot of them on this list) tells a great story with sharp lyrics.
30. Volume One - She and Him
I'm listening to this now. :) This is just a sweet poppy album with a 60s feel that covers a few songs, including the beatles. Whats not to love?
I know it said 15, but I couldn't stop there. I actually had to edit to fit only 30. I also left out some of my favorite artists (Prince, Daft Punk) because they didn't have straight-up albums that affected me and some great Albums (Pet Sounds, Doolittle) because while I can appreciate their greatness, didn't change MY life.
Maybe I got too into this, but I'm really looking forward to readin what ya'll think are the best albums. Thoughts?
I love music, so this is going to be fun for me :) I think a great album is one you can listen through in it's entirety and be moved, even just physically, by every song. I don't think I could make an argument that any of these are the best album EVER, (maybe some of them belong in the top ten tho) but all of these albums affected me personally.
1. Abbey Road- The Beatles
Arguably the best Beatle album. It made me cry the first time I heard it all the way though.
2. Street Gospels- Bedouin Soundclash
Great pop-y Canadian reggae. The description sounds like trash, but not so. Every song is a great one.
3. Graceland- Paul Simon
An album of my childhood. :) Paul Simon created a whole new sound that has yet to be copied. And he did it flawlessly.
4. Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme- Simon and Garfunkel
Another album of my childhood. I used to listen to this on tape until I wore it out. Beautifully poetic lyrics.
5. Tallahassee- The Mountain Goats
A heart wrenching story-in-album-form about an unhappy couple. More outstandingly beautiful lyrics.
6. Good News For People Who Love Bad News- Modest Mouse
Maybe certain Modest Mouse fans would argue that this isn't their best album, but I don't care. For me, this works as a cohesive thought, a story about dealing with death. This album goes through every stage of grief with some damn good beats to back it up.
7. OK Computer- Radiohead
This album introduced me to Radiohead and stayed in my CD player for months on replay. What can I say about the greatness of this album that hasn't already been said?
8. Dark Side of the Moon- Pink Floyd.
Repeat what I said about OK Computer, but replace Radiohead with Pink Floyd.
9. The Virgin Suicides- Air
Seeeexy sexy music from one of my favorite french bands.
10. Living In Clip- Ani DiFranco
Girl power done right. When I listen to this album, I remember why I wanna be Ani.
11. Beck- Mellow Gold
Beck is awesome.
12. Bishop Allen- The Broken String
Light, fun pop music with a sweet sensibility. Every song is catchy, and every lyric a gem.
13. Danger Mouse- The Gray Album
A mix of the White Album (which is ANOTHER amazing album by the Beatles) and the Black Album by Jay-Z, which is a great album in and of itself. I'm already a huge fan of remixes and covers, so this album is perfect for me.
14. The Last Five Years- Jason Robert Brown
TECHNICALLY this is a musical, but as an album is how I first heard it. For a little theatre geek, I didn't listen to a lot of musical albums in high school, but due to great music, wonderful lyrics and a heartbreaking story, this one was constantly in my CD player.
15. Preemptive Strike - DJ Shadow
This album introduced me to my favorite DJ, and is still my favorite of his.
16. De Stijl - The White Stripes
The White Stripes (along with the Beatles and the Mountain Goats) round out my top three favorite bands. This album doesn't get a lot of attention, but in my opinion it's heads and tails above the rest of their amazing work
17. The White Album - The Beatles
This album is just the fab four havin fun and bein creative. Maybe not all of the songs are radio-friendly, but they're all great.r
18. Rubber Soul - The Beatles
The first Beatles album I heard all the way through (besides that 1 album they released a decade or so ago) Maybe I'm over representing the Beatles on this list, but only because their music has meant so much to me.
19. Radiodread/Dub Side Of The Moon - Easy Star All Stars
Maybe it's cheating to put two albums under one number, but both of these cover albums affected me in the same way- they took albums that already meant a lot to me and made them new. After hearing the reggae version of both these albums, I had a new respect and listening love for the original. Plus, I'm a huge fan of cover songs.
20. 2nd To None- Elvis Presley
This in not an actual album, but rather a compilation CD of his early work. This is how I learned to love Elvis, though.
21. You've Come A Long Way, Baby -Fatboy Slim
I don't listen to any other Fatboy Slim album, but I love this one. It's perfect 90's techno. Every song is great.
22. Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots -The Flaming Lips
How I loved the Flaming Lips. Plus, as you might notice, I really like albums that tell a story, which this does.
23. Roseland NYC [LIVE} - Portishead
I love Portishead, but this is the album I reach for most. Hearing Beth Gibbons WAIL on the live version of Sour Times still sends shivers down my spine. Its kinda funny that I like this album so much- I usually hate live albums
24. Birth of Cool - Miles Davis
When I was in high school, this album, along with the Billie Holiday album later on this list, made me love Jazz. Miles knows how to play a horn (understatement of the year)
25. Cold, Cold Heart - Hank Williams
This is another compilation album, but it's a great one. Hank is in my top ten fav artists, and this album introduced me to him.
26. Lady Sings The Blues - Billie Holiday
Yet another compilation album from a great artist dead decades before I was born. This album made me love jazz and blues.
27. Riot On An Empty Street - Kings Of Convenience
Someone gave me a burned copy of this CD when I was in high school. I listened to it aaallll the time until my mom stole it and scratched it up. I never knew the name of the album until I googled the lyrics (still bouncing around in my head) recently. It still sounds great after all these years.
28. Lhasa De Sela - The Living Road
My aunt sent this to my mom as a christmas present one year. She listened to it and decided she didn't like it so I snatched it up. Lhasa sings beautiful haunting old-worldy music in french, english, and spanish.
29. The Cool- Lupe Fiasco
The second studio album from one of my favorite hip-hop artists. This album (like a lot of them on this list) tells a great story with sharp lyrics.
30. Volume One - She and Him
I'm listening to this now. :) This is just a sweet poppy album with a 60s feel that covers a few songs, including the beatles. Whats not to love?
I know it said 15, but I couldn't stop there. I actually had to edit to fit only 30. I also left out some of my favorite artists (Prince, Daft Punk) because they didn't have straight-up albums that affected me and some great Albums (Pet Sounds, Doolittle) because while I can appreciate their greatness, didn't change MY life.
Maybe I got too into this, but I'm really looking forward to readin what ya'll think are the best albums. Thoughts?
Monday, February 16, 2009
Monday Monday
I find myself a little restlessly disappointed in life lately. I feel flighty yet weighed down by heavy thoughts.
I wish school gave me more time to create.
I wish work gave me more stability for the time spent.
I wish I had the self control to use my time wisely.
I wish my phone wasn't a useless piece of plastic.
My my, I am negative this morning. I think there's something about Mondays that put me in a sour mood.
BUT! I have a story I want to write, something that came to me in a dream. Society as we know it has collapsed. There is no law, only looters. A strong willed, forward thinking single mom has managed to get her head about her faster than most, and, after gathering her brood, sent them out to find supplies for the new life ahead of them. They make a nice temporary shelter in the top floor of a school? prison? Psych hospital? and help anyone who passes through. However, others have heard of what this family has and want to take it... That was my dream, and I think what happens next will make a great story. Also, baby pandas and a yellow bike were in there too. I gotta find a way to work them in.
A couple of nights ago I had a dream that I was a Beatle, and we were all practicing our music (and choreography?) on a lawn. There's no story there, because that's all there was, but it's nice to be a part of your favorite band. It gave me a warm fuzzy feeling, and I woke up smiling.
I wish school gave me more time to create.
I wish work gave me more stability for the time spent.
I wish I had the self control to use my time wisely.
I wish my phone wasn't a useless piece of plastic.
My my, I am negative this morning. I think there's something about Mondays that put me in a sour mood.
BUT! I have a story I want to write, something that came to me in a dream. Society as we know it has collapsed. There is no law, only looters. A strong willed, forward thinking single mom has managed to get her head about her faster than most, and, after gathering her brood, sent them out to find supplies for the new life ahead of them. They make a nice temporary shelter in the top floor of a school? prison? Psych hospital? and help anyone who passes through. However, others have heard of what this family has and want to take it... That was my dream, and I think what happens next will make a great story. Also, baby pandas and a yellow bike were in there too. I gotta find a way to work them in.
A couple of nights ago I had a dream that I was a Beatle, and we were all practicing our music (and choreography?) on a lawn. There's no story there, because that's all there was, but it's nice to be a part of your favorite band. It gave me a warm fuzzy feeling, and I woke up smiling.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Belated Goodbye
When I got *ahem* fired from the Clay Pit, I wrote this to my fellow employees. This was months ago, and the sentimentality has kinda wore off, but I always regretted not savin it. So here it is, exactly how it was on When To Waiter. Except I took my cell number off.
I'm not on the schedule next week.
Wow.
Tonight (section 1, 4?) is my last shift. To those of you I'll see- let's rock it! For those of you I won't, I'll miss you.
It's hard to say how much the Clay Pit has meant to me without sounding like a huge corn ball, but Ashley told me once to never miss a chance to give a compliment, so I'll take her advice and say:
I have been touched, moved, inspired, and impressed by so many of you. I'm younger than most clay pitters, and I've really learned a lot from all of you. If it wasn't for the 30+ hours a week I spend sautéing in curry with the rest of you, I would be solely surrounded by young dumb college students, who can't see beyond their world of fake IDs, hook-ups, and chemistry homework. Although anyone would group me into the same category, it's a little shallow. Soul Crushing.
So for me, going to work every day and being surrounded by people that were not *much* older than me, but just enough to be passed that... to whom Austin was not the center of the universe and who (like me!) were not relying on Daddy for their rent money... who were (for the most part) over childish behavior like not showing up for work and complaining about things that can't be changed... who understood hard work and how to make money, and, more importantly, how to make it count... who thought I was stupid (at first) but didn't hold it against me when they found out I wasn't.... well, it's really kept me going. Motivated me, and made me think of the kind of person I want to be now that I've flown from the nest and finally joined the flock of adults headed off into the sunset of life. (nice imagery, huh?)
Thank you for your time, your support, your laughter, and your gossip. Thank you for every time you ran my food, picked up my shift, or gave me the dust pan before anyone else. Thank you for sweeping my section or finishing my sidework when I forgot to or did a crappy job, and thank you for giving me a hard time when I did, because it's a lesson I need to learn.
I'll be back for the mussels and to catch up on the gossip, but whether I never see you ever again, or I move in next door and have your babies, know that my time at the Clay Pit was a special one for me. When I write my memoirs years down the line, there will be a whole chapter devoted to the Bertram building and all the crazy characters crawling around inside.
To round off this short novel of a goodbye, I will pass along the sage wisdom I have learned over the last nine and a half months to those who have just started and those who will be taking my place: lassis only last 4 days but require more sugar than the recipe says, always move the trash can when vacuuming the parlor, people love it when you put rice in their to-go boxes, and whenever a glass breaks in the kitchen, somewhere Caroline gets her wings.
Love you, miss you, and dreading the day I can no longer log into when to waiter...
Caroline
Keep in touch!
Moo
I'm not on the schedule next week.
Wow.
Tonight (section 1, 4?) is my last shift. To those of you I'll see- let's rock it! For those of you I won't, I'll miss you.
It's hard to say how much the Clay Pit has meant to me without sounding like a huge corn ball, but Ashley told me once to never miss a chance to give a compliment, so I'll take her advice and say:
I have been touched, moved, inspired, and impressed by so many of you. I'm younger than most clay pitters, and I've really learned a lot from all of you. If it wasn't for the 30+ hours a week I spend sautéing in curry with the rest of you, I would be solely surrounded by young dumb college students, who can't see beyond their world of fake IDs, hook-ups, and chemistry homework. Although anyone would group me into the same category, it's a little shallow. Soul Crushing.
So for me, going to work every day and being surrounded by people that were not *much* older than me, but just enough to be passed that... to whom Austin was not the center of the universe and who (like me!) were not relying on Daddy for their rent money... who were (for the most part) over childish behavior like not showing up for work and complaining about things that can't be changed... who understood hard work and how to make money, and, more importantly, how to make it count... who thought I was stupid (at first) but didn't hold it against me when they found out I wasn't.... well, it's really kept me going. Motivated me, and made me think of the kind of person I want to be now that I've flown from the nest and finally joined the flock of adults headed off into the sunset of life. (nice imagery, huh?)
Thank you for your time, your support, your laughter, and your gossip. Thank you for every time you ran my food, picked up my shift, or gave me the dust pan before anyone else. Thank you for sweeping my section or finishing my sidework when I forgot to or did a crappy job, and thank you for giving me a hard time when I did, because it's a lesson I need to learn.
I'll be back for the mussels and to catch up on the gossip, but whether I never see you ever again, or I move in next door and have your babies, know that my time at the Clay Pit was a special one for me. When I write my memoirs years down the line, there will be a whole chapter devoted to the Bertram building and all the crazy characters crawling around inside.
To round off this short novel of a goodbye, I will pass along the sage wisdom I have learned over the last nine and a half months to those who have just started and those who will be taking my place: lassis only last 4 days but require more sugar than the recipe says, always move the trash can when vacuuming the parlor, people love it when you put rice in their to-go boxes, and whenever a glass breaks in the kitchen, somewhere Caroline gets her wings.
Love you, miss you, and dreading the day I can no longer log into when to waiter...
Caroline
Keep in touch!
Moo
Friday, January 30, 2009
Rough Draft
Why I should go to Africa...
All right.
- I am intelligent
- I am well spoken
- I already blog! Woot!
- I'm very interested in people
- I grew up somewhere poor?
- I don't snore
- I'm a good writer
- umm...
All right.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
25
Rules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.
(To do this, go to “notes” under tabs on your profile page, paste these instructions in the body of the note, type your 25 random things, tag 25 people (in the right hand corner of the app) then click publish.)
1. I was born on the coldest, shortest day of the year... go figure I love sunshine and daylight.
2. I dream a lot.
3. I had to suck my thumb to fall asleep until I was like, ELEVEN, and, if you believe my slumber party buddies, I still do in my sleep sometimes.
4. I LOVE Forest Gump, and once, when I was sick in the third grade, watched it four times in a row. Like, literally in a row.
5. I cry a lot, too. But hey! It's totally healthy!
6. I loooove music. Life happens in rhythm, meter and rhyme. Music is everywhere.
7. I always wish on eyelashes, stars, and backward necklaces. Always.
8. I read my horoscope daily and take what I read into serious consideration.
9. My feet sweat a lot. (Yum)
10. I orgasm easily and frequently. Maybe that's more than you needed to know, but if you could cum 20 times in an hour, you'd brag too.
11. The first time I heard Abbey Road all the way through I cried.
12. I also got teary singing, once, too. I was part of the Region Choir singing a piece called Ring Out, Wild Bells my junior year of high school. Music makes me emotional.
13. Speakin of high school, I was nominated my senior year as "wittiest," but I REALLY wanted to win "most talented"
14. When I was little, I thought Bob Saget on America's Funniest Home Videos and Bill Nye the Science Guy were one and the same, and probably related to my father (I was wrong)
15. I once had a pet chick that I won at a church carnival. It used to follow me around n molt all over my house, til a snake ate it.
16. Sometimes, when I'm bored/lonely, I replay moments from arrested development in my head and laugh and laugh and LAUGH... oh how I laugh...
17. I'm having a hard time stayin on task. 17 is good enough, right?
(To do this, go to “notes” under tabs on your profile page, paste these instructions in the body of the note, type your 25 random things, tag 25 people (in the right hand corner of the app) then click publish.)
1. I was born on the coldest, shortest day of the year... go figure I love sunshine and daylight.
2. I dream a lot.
3. I had to suck my thumb to fall asleep until I was like, ELEVEN, and, if you believe my slumber party buddies, I still do in my sleep sometimes.
4. I LOVE Forest Gump, and once, when I was sick in the third grade, watched it four times in a row. Like, literally in a row.
5. I cry a lot, too. But hey! It's totally healthy!
6. I loooove music. Life happens in rhythm, meter and rhyme. Music is everywhere.
7. I always wish on eyelashes, stars, and backward necklaces. Always.
8. I read my horoscope daily and take what I read into serious consideration.
9. My feet sweat a lot. (Yum)
10. I orgasm easily and frequently. Maybe that's more than you needed to know, but if you could cum 20 times in an hour, you'd brag too.
11. The first time I heard Abbey Road all the way through I cried.
12. I also got teary singing, once, too. I was part of the Region Choir singing a piece called Ring Out, Wild Bells my junior year of high school. Music makes me emotional.
13. Speakin of high school, I was nominated my senior year as "wittiest," but I REALLY wanted to win "most talented"
14. When I was little, I thought Bob Saget on America's Funniest Home Videos and Bill Nye the Science Guy were one and the same, and probably related to my father (I was wrong)
15. I once had a pet chick that I won at a church carnival. It used to follow me around n molt all over my house, til a snake ate it.
16. Sometimes, when I'm bored/lonely, I replay moments from arrested development in my head and laugh and laugh and LAUGH... oh how I laugh...
17. I'm having a hard time stayin on task. 17 is good enough, right?
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Interpretation and Explanation
So I put "dreams about killing" into Google to see what came up.
My favs:
My favs:
- If the dreamer is killing an enemy, this implies the end of a difficult time in his life attained through his own efforts.
- Dream workers find the most useful way to approach these dreams is to first see that the deaths and slayings are not meant to be taken literally, but rather symbolically. This becomes especially clear when we kill figures that don't even exist in waking life. The image of death taken symbolically can mean many things, one of which can be the death of an old attitude or personality trait or behavior pattern. In this way the whole sense of the dream is reversed, and death becomes a doorway to a new way of living.
- To dream that you kill someone, indicates that heavy stress may cause you to lose your temper and self-control.
- To dream that you have committed a murder, indicates that you are putting an end to an old habit and your former ways of thinking.
Game
The bathroom, like most high school bathrooms, smells like urine and mold. The sea green walls and florescent lighting make the entire environment feel sick and hopeless. Looking into the mirror, I feel sick and hopeless, too.
My round-collared button down shirt is wrinkled and stained. My plaid skirt twists and pulls around my waist. As I tug my sinking sock - the final atrocity of this cliche, ugly uniform - I wiggle my toes in my pinching Mary Janes. I can't wait to get home and out of this suffocating costume and every bad, angry thing it represents.
I run my fingers through my matted, sweaty hair and choke back the stench of vomit and bleach radiating from the sink. I close my eyes and focus on the symphony of the sputtering air conditioner and rhythmic drip of a leaky sink. Toilets hum and cough. Pipes slosh.
Voices.
My spidey sense tingles to the tune of the low whispers. Female voices. Of course. This is a woman's bathroom, after all. But any female can mean only mean bad things for me right now, and with my heavy sighs and careless, stomping entrance, I know those muttered conspirings could only be about me.
They come from the other end of the large bathroom, twenty stalls or more deep. The whisperers themselves stand next to the outside door, my path to freedom. I can't go through the door that led me into this stinking sanctuary - that door leads back to the inside of the school, and knee deep into more trouble than the two conspirators can bring. No, I have to go through that outside exit, the one that will take me across the lacrosse field, over the chain link fence, and out of this hell hole. But to get through that door, I have to get through these girls. Whoever they are.
Light, light steps carry me to the wall of the nearest stall, so they would be coming around the corner toward me, and I would have the element of surprise. Whether I want to or not, I know what I have to do, and I am prepared to do it.
The whisperers bite a final conclusion. Minds have been made up and plans have been formed. Tight, military style tip toes carry one girl out my escape route (MY escape route. The glowing exit sign has become my guiding light, and the fresh air on the other side the final stage of this dirty video game) The other girl pauses, as if to gather resolve. Then, on quick mouse feet, she heads toward me.
I am ready.
As she nears the last stall, I tense, and as soon as I see a flash of gray wool sock, I swing my arm around the corner with a strength I didn't know I had. My elbow locks and the heel of my hand tears upward, connecting with her nose and knocking her backward. I feel the softness of her skin, the moistness of her mouth, and I feel the cartilage of her nose give way under my palm. He head flies back and her eyes pop open. I recognize her crunchy, red died hair and her smeared blue eye shadow. I recognize her small, mousy frame and whiny, smug voice, the one that whimpers now. I had seen her smile as she held the plastic bag over Diana's head, and watched her as she tightened the cord from the window blind around Melanie's neck. She knew, as I did, that I knew too much. And I must have been the only one left now, if she was finally coming after me.
"Sarah."
I say her name, but I don't know why. I don't want to reason with her, befriend her, or even taunt her. Sarah is not a girl who one could really trust, especially not in a game like this. Besides, I had just broken her nose. She knew it was on. I said her name to label her, to feel the bitterness of all that she was in my mouth. It is resolve to help me get through this, this that I have to do.
She steps back, both hands clutching her face. Blood pours out from between her fingers. All I see of her face is her wide, blue ringed eyes and her hands forming a mask, fingers like teeth soaking in sinister blood.
She had dropped a chain! A heavy, metal chain. It must have been what she was going to use on me. While she is still reeling, blood dripping on her oxford shoes and high pitched curses coming from out between her fingers, I grab the chain. It's a little ghetto for me, a middle class white girl whose never had to use a weapon before, especially not one as crude and cruel as this one.
Foreign to me or not, I've seen movies. I know what in need to do. I swing the chain like a rope, whipping her across her cheek. Blood trickles out her ear.
"Why are you doing this?" I plead to her, and flash the chain again. Sarah is now on her knees. She crawls inside the nearest stall.
"I never wanted to be a part of this! Can't you see what you've done?" I come up behind her and grab her bloody head of hair with one fist. She struggles and screams, finally dropping her hand from her face. Blood drips onto the toilet seat.
"I'm not a violent person," I reason with her, and push her head into the toilet. "I tried to stay away from this as long as I could." She flails and waves her arms. With one foot I step on her hand, then press my other knee into her back. "You just never should have come after me." Leaning a little bit, I reach and flush the toilet. Sarah kicks and bucks. Her shoulders twitch and she tries to shove her head backward. Bubbly screams come from inside the bowl. And then...
it's over.
I feel no pity for her, just remorse that it had to come to this end, and disgust at the blood and toilet water staining my already messy uniform. I really need a bath now.
But I can't rest yet. If Sarah was sent after me, than that must mean Rebecca was the one doing the sending. And Rebecca is much more dangerous than mousy little Sarah.
The game was Rebecca's idea after all. She always did like violence and power. And she was smart, too, which is why she probably sent Sarah after me. She must have known I wouldn't be taken down easily. It's better for her to let us duke it out and then deal with the survivor herself. Only one girl can win in the end.
I move toward the exit I heard her leave through. The exit holding my sweet, sweet freedom from this place. I have to be prepared, I have to be ready to-
The door swings open, and I'm face to face with the tiny Rebecca Peterson. Her trademark bandanna - purple today - forms a homemade headband. Her short hair and delicate features combine to form the innocent, pixie-like facade she hides behind so well. Bitch.
"Oh, hey, Ca-" before Rebecca can get out her fake, time-buying greeting, I grab her wrist and swing it around her body, pinning her arm behind her back. Our face-to-face meeting caught us both by surprise, and the chain... the chain... where is my chain?! Shit! I see it in my minds eye lying next to Sarah's lifeless body. All I have on Rebecca is strength, and I plan on using it.
With my left hand, I push her left wrist up higher and higher into her back. I've done this before, I can do it again. How far do I have to twist again?
"Sarah's dead." I push her into the nearest stall, buying my own time before her arm finally gives away. "Now hold still, so I don't have to break your arm." I lock the door behind us, and press her face up against the door, smearing her makeup into the faded graffiti of who loves who.
"Fine, fine, I'll cooperate." Rebecca winces, but I see her eyes dart and sparkle as she plans. Her right hand tightens around something.
Now just a little more... when will this give way? I push a little harder, Rebecca's hand almost to her hair, and then I finally hear the snap of torn bone and muscle. Her shoulder sags, and her elbow flops. She screams.
"I thought you said you wouldn't break my arm!" Her right hand flails around, trying to grab me.
"I meant I wouldn't break this arm." I grab her right wrist and let her left arm flop. It's useless now. I squeeze her wrist to make her palm open. Inside is a plastic HEB bag. "Is this what you were planning on using on me?" I let the bag flop and drive her own right elbow deep into her spine. No mercy now. I have to immobilize her other arm.
The second time around, breaking her arm will be much easier. I push her elbow higher and higher, twisting her around like a contortionist. Behind my strength is a fury of what she's done, as well as the confidence from what I've just done. And the hope of the finish line, the last burst of energy that this will all be over soon... Snap.
And there it goes. She's worthless now, a floppy, armless freak, and entirely at my disposal. I leave her leaning on her cheek against the door as she cries. She can't open it to run away. Pathetic. I pick up the plastic bag off the floor, and fold it in half.
"What did you think was going to happen, Rebecca?" I fold the bag in half again. "Did you really think you would win, that you could be the last one standing?" I fold the bag in half again. "I never wanted to be a part of this. I didn't jump on your sadistic little bandwagon like everyone else, and I didn't go after anyone either." I fold the bag in half again. Now it's only an inch wide, and a foot and a half long. "But you had to send your little minion after me. You had to include me- even though I was totally content on the sidelines watching!- and I won't go down without a fight." I hold the bag up in front of her face with one hand and grab her dead wrists behind her back with the other. I turn her toward me. "Is this what you were planning on using against me? A fucking plastic bag?? I saw you turn this useless thing into a weapon before. Don't think I don't know how this works."
I rope the bag around her neck like a wide plastic ribbon. Holding both ends in one hand, I tighten it as hard as I can. I use the other hand to steady her half dead body. Rebecca is turning blue. Her head flops back and forth like 'no no no' but I steady her, and tighten the bag even more. She weakens, trembles, and her head flops down a little bit. She's almost gone. Just a few more minutes to make sure she's dead, and then I can leave, go home, and...
The bathroom door opens. Shit! I'm going to have to wait until this person - oh, no, a conversation - these people leave. I count voices. One, two, three, four, five, six. At least six girls have come in. Damn that stereotype that girls can't go to the bathroom alone. I'm just going to have to wait til they leave. I hear them talk. Stupid shit. Boys, and teachers, and TV drama. Blah blah blah. Rebecca trembles and slurs in my arms, and I know she's already far enough gone.
Just a few more minutes of waiting... just let me hear them pee and wash their hands and redo their lip gloss...
"Hey, look at this."
Just another line in the mindless dialogue between the stupid barbie dolls, but my spidey sense tingles again. "Check out what's written on this wall." I peer out between the crack in the stall and see a girl (a junior, obviously, since all the girls in my grade are dead now) with long brown hair and a perfect white headband reading something off the wall of the stall across from me. Those stalls are shorter, and only come up to her nose, so I can see her eyes narrow as she reads. The other girls gather around her.
"Notice to all girls in the St. Jude Catholic School for Girls, class of 2009. The game has started. The rules are as follows: 1. Never pair up to take someone down. Every mark must be made one on one or it doesn't count! 2. No firearms or knives. Let's get creative, ladies! 3. Every death is one point. The person with the highest number of points is the winner, and therefore, the most popular. Let's see if you can take my crown... Signed, Rebecca K. Peterson, Freshman Lady '06, Sophomore Duchess '07, Junior Princess '08, and reigning Prom Queen, 2009."
My stomach sinks. The dumb bitch in my arms posted the rules on the bathroom wall. Did she think she would never get caught?
"What's that all about?"
"This is crazy."
The younger girls continue their conversation. I'm getting restless. This may mean they won't be out of here for a while.
"Ya know, I haven't really seen any senior girls around in a while..."
"Do you think it's real?"
"Hey, something moved in that stall."
The eyes of the six girls turn toward the stall where I stand. Uh oh. What am I going to do? First, I gotta put this body down and prepare myself. I prop the lifeless Rebecca on the toilet seat. Her head flops forward, and, in some sick form of a death roll, her mouth opens and with a retch, she pukes chunky, dark red blood all over the floor. I step back so it doesn't get on my shoes.
Muttering outside my stall. After today, I know low female voices are never a good sign. Through the crack of the stall door, I see the lead girl, a tall giant of an almost-woman with amber colored hair, move toward me. I swing the door open and step outside.
"Hey, what's up?" I put on my best friendly smile. It doesn't seem to be working.
"What are you doing?" The behemoth gets in my face. Damn it, I won't be able to take all of them. My eyes stretch toward the closed outside exit. Just a few steps and I'll be there...
"Just doing what you do in a bathroom." No wonder everyone is glaring at me. I'm a mess. Blood and sweat mark my clothes, and I know I smell like toilet water. Still gotta smile... "What are you guys doing? Don't you have class?" Please leave. Please, please leave. I hold on to the handle of the door behind my back.
"Lunch." The Amazon states matter-of-factly. "What's inside there?" She tries to push past me.
"Oh, I wouldn't go in there if I were you! I have a pretty upset stomach." I smile a don't-you-hate-it-when-that-happens! smile. Hopefully, they'll emphasize and move on.
"Yeah, we heard." The lead girl smirks. She must mean the splatter of Rebecca's puke echoing across the floor. Some of the girls laugh. Bitches. But I'll let them think I had the worst case of diarrhea in the world if that means they don't find the body... "But you didn't flush." She pushes me aside again, and this time my hands separate from the handle.
"I can do it! Really, it's my mess!" I plead with her, but she's swinging the door open. Oh no oh no oh no Her face contorts as she sees whats inside... there's no where to run I'm doooomed...
And then I wake up.
My round-collared button down shirt is wrinkled and stained. My plaid skirt twists and pulls around my waist. As I tug my sinking sock - the final atrocity of this cliche, ugly uniform - I wiggle my toes in my pinching Mary Janes. I can't wait to get home and out of this suffocating costume and every bad, angry thing it represents.
I run my fingers through my matted, sweaty hair and choke back the stench of vomit and bleach radiating from the sink. I close my eyes and focus on the symphony of the sputtering air conditioner and rhythmic drip of a leaky sink. Toilets hum and cough. Pipes slosh.
Voices.
My spidey sense tingles to the tune of the low whispers. Female voices. Of course. This is a woman's bathroom, after all. But any female can mean only mean bad things for me right now, and with my heavy sighs and careless, stomping entrance, I know those muttered conspirings could only be about me.
They come from the other end of the large bathroom, twenty stalls or more deep. The whisperers themselves stand next to the outside door, my path to freedom. I can't go through the door that led me into this stinking sanctuary - that door leads back to the inside of the school, and knee deep into more trouble than the two conspirators can bring. No, I have to go through that outside exit, the one that will take me across the lacrosse field, over the chain link fence, and out of this hell hole. But to get through that door, I have to get through these girls. Whoever they are.
Light, light steps carry me to the wall of the nearest stall, so they would be coming around the corner toward me, and I would have the element of surprise. Whether I want to or not, I know what I have to do, and I am prepared to do it.
The whisperers bite a final conclusion. Minds have been made up and plans have been formed. Tight, military style tip toes carry one girl out my escape route (MY escape route. The glowing exit sign has become my guiding light, and the fresh air on the other side the final stage of this dirty video game) The other girl pauses, as if to gather resolve. Then, on quick mouse feet, she heads toward me.
I am ready.
As she nears the last stall, I tense, and as soon as I see a flash of gray wool sock, I swing my arm around the corner with a strength I didn't know I had. My elbow locks and the heel of my hand tears upward, connecting with her nose and knocking her backward. I feel the softness of her skin, the moistness of her mouth, and I feel the cartilage of her nose give way under my palm. He head flies back and her eyes pop open. I recognize her crunchy, red died hair and her smeared blue eye shadow. I recognize her small, mousy frame and whiny, smug voice, the one that whimpers now. I had seen her smile as she held the plastic bag over Diana's head, and watched her as she tightened the cord from the window blind around Melanie's neck. She knew, as I did, that I knew too much. And I must have been the only one left now, if she was finally coming after me.
"Sarah."
I say her name, but I don't know why. I don't want to reason with her, befriend her, or even taunt her. Sarah is not a girl who one could really trust, especially not in a game like this. Besides, I had just broken her nose. She knew it was on. I said her name to label her, to feel the bitterness of all that she was in my mouth. It is resolve to help me get through this, this that I have to do.
She steps back, both hands clutching her face. Blood pours out from between her fingers. All I see of her face is her wide, blue ringed eyes and her hands forming a mask, fingers like teeth soaking in sinister blood.
She had dropped a chain! A heavy, metal chain. It must have been what she was going to use on me. While she is still reeling, blood dripping on her oxford shoes and high pitched curses coming from out between her fingers, I grab the chain. It's a little ghetto for me, a middle class white girl whose never had to use a weapon before, especially not one as crude and cruel as this one.
Foreign to me or not, I've seen movies. I know what in need to do. I swing the chain like a rope, whipping her across her cheek. Blood trickles out her ear.
"Why are you doing this?" I plead to her, and flash the chain again. Sarah is now on her knees. She crawls inside the nearest stall.
"I never wanted to be a part of this! Can't you see what you've done?" I come up behind her and grab her bloody head of hair with one fist. She struggles and screams, finally dropping her hand from her face. Blood drips onto the toilet seat.
"I'm not a violent person," I reason with her, and push her head into the toilet. "I tried to stay away from this as long as I could." She flails and waves her arms. With one foot I step on her hand, then press my other knee into her back. "You just never should have come after me." Leaning a little bit, I reach and flush the toilet. Sarah kicks and bucks. Her shoulders twitch and she tries to shove her head backward. Bubbly screams come from inside the bowl. And then...
it's over.
I feel no pity for her, just remorse that it had to come to this end, and disgust at the blood and toilet water staining my already messy uniform. I really need a bath now.
But I can't rest yet. If Sarah was sent after me, than that must mean Rebecca was the one doing the sending. And Rebecca is much more dangerous than mousy little Sarah.
The game was Rebecca's idea after all. She always did like violence and power. And she was smart, too, which is why she probably sent Sarah after me. She must have known I wouldn't be taken down easily. It's better for her to let us duke it out and then deal with the survivor herself. Only one girl can win in the end.
I move toward the exit I heard her leave through. The exit holding my sweet, sweet freedom from this place. I have to be prepared, I have to be ready to-
The door swings open, and I'm face to face with the tiny Rebecca Peterson. Her trademark bandanna - purple today - forms a homemade headband. Her short hair and delicate features combine to form the innocent, pixie-like facade she hides behind so well. Bitch.
"Oh, hey, Ca-" before Rebecca can get out her fake, time-buying greeting, I grab her wrist and swing it around her body, pinning her arm behind her back. Our face-to-face meeting caught us both by surprise, and the chain... the chain... where is my chain?! Shit! I see it in my minds eye lying next to Sarah's lifeless body. All I have on Rebecca is strength, and I plan on using it.
With my left hand, I push her left wrist up higher and higher into her back. I've done this before, I can do it again. How far do I have to twist again?
"Sarah's dead." I push her into the nearest stall, buying my own time before her arm finally gives away. "Now hold still, so I don't have to break your arm." I lock the door behind us, and press her face up against the door, smearing her makeup into the faded graffiti of who loves who.
"Fine, fine, I'll cooperate." Rebecca winces, but I see her eyes dart and sparkle as she plans. Her right hand tightens around something.
Now just a little more... when will this give way? I push a little harder, Rebecca's hand almost to her hair, and then I finally hear the snap of torn bone and muscle. Her shoulder sags, and her elbow flops. She screams.
"I thought you said you wouldn't break my arm!" Her right hand flails around, trying to grab me.
"I meant I wouldn't break this arm." I grab her right wrist and let her left arm flop. It's useless now. I squeeze her wrist to make her palm open. Inside is a plastic HEB bag. "Is this what you were planning on using on me?" I let the bag flop and drive her own right elbow deep into her spine. No mercy now. I have to immobilize her other arm.
The second time around, breaking her arm will be much easier. I push her elbow higher and higher, twisting her around like a contortionist. Behind my strength is a fury of what she's done, as well as the confidence from what I've just done. And the hope of the finish line, the last burst of energy that this will all be over soon... Snap.
And there it goes. She's worthless now, a floppy, armless freak, and entirely at my disposal. I leave her leaning on her cheek against the door as she cries. She can't open it to run away. Pathetic. I pick up the plastic bag off the floor, and fold it in half.
"What did you think was going to happen, Rebecca?" I fold the bag in half again. "Did you really think you would win, that you could be the last one standing?" I fold the bag in half again. "I never wanted to be a part of this. I didn't jump on your sadistic little bandwagon like everyone else, and I didn't go after anyone either." I fold the bag in half again. Now it's only an inch wide, and a foot and a half long. "But you had to send your little minion after me. You had to include me- even though I was totally content on the sidelines watching!- and I won't go down without a fight." I hold the bag up in front of her face with one hand and grab her dead wrists behind her back with the other. I turn her toward me. "Is this what you were planning on using against me? A fucking plastic bag?? I saw you turn this useless thing into a weapon before. Don't think I don't know how this works."
I rope the bag around her neck like a wide plastic ribbon. Holding both ends in one hand, I tighten it as hard as I can. I use the other hand to steady her half dead body. Rebecca is turning blue. Her head flops back and forth like 'no no no' but I steady her, and tighten the bag even more. She weakens, trembles, and her head flops down a little bit. She's almost gone. Just a few more minutes to make sure she's dead, and then I can leave, go home, and...
The bathroom door opens. Shit! I'm going to have to wait until this person - oh, no, a conversation - these people leave. I count voices. One, two, three, four, five, six. At least six girls have come in. Damn that stereotype that girls can't go to the bathroom alone. I'm just going to have to wait til they leave. I hear them talk. Stupid shit. Boys, and teachers, and TV drama. Blah blah blah. Rebecca trembles and slurs in my arms, and I know she's already far enough gone.
Just a few more minutes of waiting... just let me hear them pee and wash their hands and redo their lip gloss...
"Hey, look at this."
Just another line in the mindless dialogue between the stupid barbie dolls, but my spidey sense tingles again. "Check out what's written on this wall." I peer out between the crack in the stall and see a girl (a junior, obviously, since all the girls in my grade are dead now) with long brown hair and a perfect white headband reading something off the wall of the stall across from me. Those stalls are shorter, and only come up to her nose, so I can see her eyes narrow as she reads. The other girls gather around her.
"Notice to all girls in the St. Jude Catholic School for Girls, class of 2009. The game has started. The rules are as follows: 1. Never pair up to take someone down. Every mark must be made one on one or it doesn't count! 2. No firearms or knives. Let's get creative, ladies! 3. Every death is one point. The person with the highest number of points is the winner, and therefore, the most popular. Let's see if you can take my crown... Signed, Rebecca K. Peterson, Freshman Lady '06, Sophomore Duchess '07, Junior Princess '08, and reigning Prom Queen, 2009."
My stomach sinks. The dumb bitch in my arms posted the rules on the bathroom wall. Did she think she would never get caught?
"What's that all about?"
"This is crazy."
The younger girls continue their conversation. I'm getting restless. This may mean they won't be out of here for a while.
"Ya know, I haven't really seen any senior girls around in a while..."
"Do you think it's real?"
"Hey, something moved in that stall."
The eyes of the six girls turn toward the stall where I stand. Uh oh. What am I going to do? First, I gotta put this body down and prepare myself. I prop the lifeless Rebecca on the toilet seat. Her head flops forward, and, in some sick form of a death roll, her mouth opens and with a retch, she pukes chunky, dark red blood all over the floor. I step back so it doesn't get on my shoes.
Muttering outside my stall. After today, I know low female voices are never a good sign. Through the crack of the stall door, I see the lead girl, a tall giant of an almost-woman with amber colored hair, move toward me. I swing the door open and step outside.
"Hey, what's up?" I put on my best friendly smile. It doesn't seem to be working.
"What are you doing?" The behemoth gets in my face. Damn it, I won't be able to take all of them. My eyes stretch toward the closed outside exit. Just a few steps and I'll be there...
"Just doing what you do in a bathroom." No wonder everyone is glaring at me. I'm a mess. Blood and sweat mark my clothes, and I know I smell like toilet water. Still gotta smile... "What are you guys doing? Don't you have class?" Please leave. Please, please leave. I hold on to the handle of the door behind my back.
"Lunch." The Amazon states matter-of-factly. "What's inside there?" She tries to push past me.
"Oh, I wouldn't go in there if I were you! I have a pretty upset stomach." I smile a don't-you-hate-it-when-that-happens! smile. Hopefully, they'll emphasize and move on.
"Yeah, we heard." The lead girl smirks. She must mean the splatter of Rebecca's puke echoing across the floor. Some of the girls laugh. Bitches. But I'll let them think I had the worst case of diarrhea in the world if that means they don't find the body... "But you didn't flush." She pushes me aside again, and this time my hands separate from the handle.
"I can do it! Really, it's my mess!" I plead with her, but she's swinging the door open. Oh no oh no oh no Her face contorts as she sees whats inside... there's no where to run I'm doooomed...
And then I wake up.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Open Letter
This was thrown on me out of the blue.
Something in my psyche knew it was coming- I was dreadful and nervous about you coming back, and I didn't know why; I planned break up talks I couldn't think of needing to use- but you really threw me for a loop saying what you did last night. I feel like the plush Persian rug of our pretty little relationship was just pulled out from underneath me.
What happened in these last two weeks that made you so sure it's not going to work? I know what happened- you fell in some pussy (AND expect me to be OK with that) and went on a life changing trip made to shake your shit up. The cheating is almost expected (still doesn't make it right) but how could you go from being my best friend and a wonderful boyfriend and so in love with me to sure we are totally over?
I know you to your deepest core. I see you for who you are (good, and slimy cheating bad) and love you for it. I know you better than you know yourself, and I know our relationship. I can see and have always been able to see the roles we've given each other, good or bad, and I have been OK with them. We have a codependent relationship because we've built it, built it with full knowledge of what we were doing. I hesitated at first- not wanting to borrow money, always come to you with problems, or stop sleeping without you- but you were so encouraging me in my neediness, you wanted so much to take care of me, that I wallowed in you like a happy little pig covered in the mud of your emotions.
I'm not here to place blame, mostly because I think it will turn you off and stop you from being receptive to what I have to say, but I was totally aware of where we stood with each other. And I thought you were too. I guess you were- the only difference is that I was OK with it, and I guess you weren't.
The positive spin I'm seeing on all this (and hoping you'll, too) is that our problem is not communication, or respect (although cheating isn't very respectful) or love or any relationship killers like that- the problem we have is the roles we've set ourselves up in. Roles can change. We can make our relationship different and be successful at it because we at the core have the beautiful, well oiled motor that keeps all good relationships running- respect, communication, love, and (well, I used to think) a desire to make it work. We still can, and I know you maybe don't want to, but it would really taint the memory of our relationship if you don't at least try.
I'm not trying to say we should get married, I just know once it's over it's over and I'm not sure you realize that. There will be no back treading with this relationship, no 4 AM 'what was I thinking?!' revelations. I refuse to try and fix myself to then have you come back into my life two days, or two weeks, or six months later and turn me into a puddle of myself because you had a change of heart. I cannot stress this enough, so I'll say it again- when it's over, its over. That's why I think we should give it one last shot. It might be a way for us to realize we're not good for each other, but it would be easier for me to ease out of this slowly that to get sent flying through the air just to land on my ass.
This is what I propose we do- two dates a week for the next month. No sleeping over, no dating anyone else (!!), no future plans. Just the two of us hangin out, cookin dinner, going for a hike, getting to know each other on a level we skipped as we went from casually dating to practically married. Let's take a step back and use our romantic relationship like most people do- someone to talk to and have sex with, a warm body whose company you enjoy. Nothing else.
This slow down approach could be really good for us, not just in regards to our relationship, but on a personal, rest-of-your-life-kinda-lesson. You will finally have to be in a relationship where you're not playing daddy, (cuz let's be real, that's what you do) and I will gain the confidence and self sufficiency that comes with standing next to you, but on my own two feet.
And if it doesn't work? If we can't stick to those rules, if we end up bickering the whole month, or we find out we really just don't like each other that much after all... well, it would be easier to have eased out of this s-l-o-w-l-y than this sudden jarring rip that you gave my heart last night. I will be able to prepare myself for a youless life, I won't have any 'what if...?' midnight conversations with myself, and I'll be able to hold on to the respect and trust I've built for you these last four months. I don't want to hate you, and I don't want to become jaded and distrustful of relationships after this. Our relationship meant too much to me to be left with the bitter taste in my mouth of biting down too hard on my tongue.
So do it for me. One last thing for your needy, twenty year old girlfriend. At the very least, try and earn back your karma points you lost when you cheated on someone who thinks the sun shines out of your ass...
If you're reading this, it probably means we already talked. This is just a rough draft of what I want to say to you tonight. (although hopefully with less talk of your infidelity. It hurts, but it's not the big issue here) Maybe you're reading this to get a better understanding of what the fuck I was talking about as you gather my shit from your house, or maybe it'll be a way to install confidence in us making it work. Either way, I'll always have a special place in my heart for you. A Jew shaped scar that I feel with every drop of blood pumpin through...
Don't make the same mistakes again, and I promise I won't.
Caroline
Something in my psyche knew it was coming- I was dreadful and nervous about you coming back, and I didn't know why; I planned break up talks I couldn't think of needing to use- but you really threw me for a loop saying what you did last night. I feel like the plush Persian rug of our pretty little relationship was just pulled out from underneath me.
What happened in these last two weeks that made you so sure it's not going to work? I know what happened- you fell in some pussy (AND expect me to be OK with that) and went on a life changing trip made to shake your shit up. The cheating is almost expected (still doesn't make it right) but how could you go from being my best friend and a wonderful boyfriend and so in love with me to sure we are totally over?
I know you to your deepest core. I see you for who you are (good, and slimy cheating bad) and love you for it. I know you better than you know yourself, and I know our relationship. I can see and have always been able to see the roles we've given each other, good or bad, and I have been OK with them. We have a codependent relationship because we've built it, built it with full knowledge of what we were doing. I hesitated at first- not wanting to borrow money, always come to you with problems, or stop sleeping without you- but you were so encouraging me in my neediness, you wanted so much to take care of me, that I wallowed in you like a happy little pig covered in the mud of your emotions.
I'm not here to place blame, mostly because I think it will turn you off and stop you from being receptive to what I have to say, but I was totally aware of where we stood with each other. And I thought you were too. I guess you were- the only difference is that I was OK with it, and I guess you weren't.
The positive spin I'm seeing on all this (and hoping you'll, too) is that our problem is not communication, or respect (although cheating isn't very respectful) or love or any relationship killers like that- the problem we have is the roles we've set ourselves up in. Roles can change. We can make our relationship different and be successful at it because we at the core have the beautiful, well oiled motor that keeps all good relationships running- respect, communication, love, and (well, I used to think) a desire to make it work. We still can, and I know you maybe don't want to, but it would really taint the memory of our relationship if you don't at least try.
I'm not trying to say we should get married, I just know once it's over it's over and I'm not sure you realize that. There will be no back treading with this relationship, no 4 AM 'what was I thinking?!' revelations. I refuse to try and fix myself to then have you come back into my life two days, or two weeks, or six months later and turn me into a puddle of myself because you had a change of heart. I cannot stress this enough, so I'll say it again- when it's over, its over. That's why I think we should give it one last shot. It might be a way for us to realize we're not good for each other, but it would be easier for me to ease out of this slowly that to get sent flying through the air just to land on my ass.
This is what I propose we do- two dates a week for the next month. No sleeping over, no dating anyone else (!!), no future plans. Just the two of us hangin out, cookin dinner, going for a hike, getting to know each other on a level we skipped as we went from casually dating to practically married. Let's take a step back and use our romantic relationship like most people do- someone to talk to and have sex with, a warm body whose company you enjoy. Nothing else.
This slow down approach could be really good for us, not just in regards to our relationship, but on a personal, rest-of-your-life-kinda-lesson. You will finally have to be in a relationship where you're not playing daddy, (cuz let's be real, that's what you do) and I will gain the confidence and self sufficiency that comes with standing next to you, but on my own two feet.
And if it doesn't work? If we can't stick to those rules, if we end up bickering the whole month, or we find out we really just don't like each other that much after all... well, it would be easier to have eased out of this s-l-o-w-l-y than this sudden jarring rip that you gave my heart last night. I will be able to prepare myself for a youless life, I won't have any 'what if...?' midnight conversations with myself, and I'll be able to hold on to the respect and trust I've built for you these last four months. I don't want to hate you, and I don't want to become jaded and distrustful of relationships after this. Our relationship meant too much to me to be left with the bitter taste in my mouth of biting down too hard on my tongue.
So do it for me. One last thing for your needy, twenty year old girlfriend. At the very least, try and earn back your karma points you lost when you cheated on someone who thinks the sun shines out of your ass...
If you're reading this, it probably means we already talked. This is just a rough draft of what I want to say to you tonight. (although hopefully with less talk of your infidelity. It hurts, but it's not the big issue here) Maybe you're reading this to get a better understanding of what the fuck I was talking about as you gather my shit from your house, or maybe it'll be a way to install confidence in us making it work. Either way, I'll always have a special place in my heart for you. A Jew shaped scar that I feel with every drop of blood pumpin through...
Don't make the same mistakes again, and I promise I won't.
Caroline
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Fifty Great Things, Part Deux
16. Rza.
17. Rhythm.
18. Smiling at a stranger (or have one smile at you)
19. Compliments.
20. Sweat.
21. Dessert.
22. 'I love you.'
23. Learning something new.
24. Accomplishment.
25. Respect.
26. Listening.
27. Change.
28. Making something wonderful.
29. Screaming at the top of your lungs sometimes.
30. A good night's sleep.
17. Rhythm.
18. Smiling at a stranger (or have one smile at you)
19. Compliments.
20. Sweat.
21. Dessert.
22. 'I love you.'
23. Learning something new.
24. Accomplishment.
25. Respect.
26. Listening.
27. Change.
28. Making something wonderful.
29. Screaming at the top of your lungs sometimes.
30. A good night's sleep.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Twenty
They say your early twenties can be the most exciting years of your life. You're the strongest, most attractive and have the most stamina and sexual heat than any other time in your life. Your whole future stretches before you like the ocean. You don't know what's out there for you, but it's big and it's gonna be great!
Your early twenties can be hell, too. You have so little background and experience, no knowledge of how to take care of yourself, your home, your bills, your dog. Crises are met with higher stages of alert and more freaking out because this is the first time that you have to solve them without an umbrella of protection coming from your parents, your school, or the 'hey, don't blame me, I'm just a kid!' excuse. You're a full blown adult with no credentials to back it up.
This is where I'm supposed to find out what I'm really made of, to show my strength. So why do I feel so helpless?
Your early twenties can be hell, too. You have so little background and experience, no knowledge of how to take care of yourself, your home, your bills, your dog. Crises are met with higher stages of alert and more freaking out because this is the first time that you have to solve them without an umbrella of protection coming from your parents, your school, or the 'hey, don't blame me, I'm just a kid!' excuse. You're a full blown adult with no credentials to back it up.
This is where I'm supposed to find out what I'm really made of, to show my strength. So why do I feel so helpless?
Saturday, January 10, 2009
It's the End of the World as We Know It...
So I've been thinkin lately about my skillz. I have pretty high opinion of myself, so I think, by and large, my tricks and talents are not only extensive, but awesome.
But the thought that worries me now is... Right now my expertise and technique are gettin me through life. However..... What if society fell? What if alien's attacked, or even just the economy collapsed? Would I be able to survive? How will my good memorization skills, my humor, and my random file of facts help me get food, find shelter, or not get killed?
I don't mean that super dramatically. Right now what I can do helps me get a job that helps me get food and shelter and what I do know keeps me from getting killed. (Like not to cross the street when a bus is comin.) But what about the day when restaurants are but a memory? When the food you eat comes from you own hands in a much more direct manner than the present day? Will I be able to keep on kickin?
It's kinda like the old "Could I survive a zombie attack?" question that everyone must ponder at some time in their life, but much more realistic. I think I'm more likely to see a fourth world war in my life time than my mother eating the remains of her neighbors. For which I am very glad.
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