I miss you cuz I liked it. I liked it when I was out there...

Deflated

Sat, 30 Aug 2008 05:14:57 GMT

I think I'm sick. I can't breath. And my spells are getting worse and worse. Maybe it's stress, but I've been through things far more troubling than money without my body reacting this way. I can't breath. I can't breath.

It's silly to even imagine but still frightening that I have every symptom of brain cancer and every symptom of emphysema. Obviously I don't have these things or I wouldn't be alive right now.

But I can't breath, ever. I can't even think strenuous thoughts without loosing my breath. I can't breath right now. I don't know what to do. I can't find over the counter inhalers anywhere.

It's getting worse too. Why is medical insurance so fucking hard to get?

I can't breath. I don't know what to do.

Fri, 22 Jun 2007 20:00:40 GMT

Dear Heavenly Father,

Please grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change

The strength the change the things I can

And the wisdom to know the difference.

Amen

I am not a religious person, I don't even really know what I believe. But I do know that I needed this prayer this week.

And I don't fucking care what you think.

My unhealthy preoccupation

Sat, 09 Jun 2007 03:42:35 GMT

For some reason - and this happens every time I come here - after a few weeks I ineffably start having disastrous dreams about my family falling into ruins while I'm gone.

I've come to a realization that I am so ridiculously preoccupied with my family that I subconsciously feel they will cease to function without me.

If only the Id would just leave me alone. I'm sure these nightmares will pass. It just surprises and and frustrates me that, even at this great distance, my family has this effect on me.

I need to call them soon. I haven't in a while and have a feeling they may be angry with me.

Then again, this could just be my dreams causing me anxiety.

It's so nice to just be away from them though. I can't believe how different a person I am without them.

New York again.

Sun, 11 Mar 2007 21:59:58 GMT

Home again home again jig-a-dee-jig....

So here I am back in the infinitly wonderous New York. But this time for a month. My dearest Nick is at work and will be until 11ish. Which leaves me pretty bored but considering I haven't been on line in over a month I'm thinking it is forgivable. lol. In an hour or so I'm going to walk over to the laundromat and clean me some clothes. I feel good about this.

Life is good, we bought some crystals at the flea market in Manhatten yesterday that I'm going to make into an ear ring and necklace. The radiator is working today so it's nice and toasty in the apartment and here I am curled up on the couch still in my pajamas 'cuz I'm too lazy to get dressed. Only one thing is missing from this cozy picture. But that which I love the most will be home soon enough. For now, I'm just happy to be here.

Yesterday Nick and I took pictures in the City while we shopped. When we came back to Crown Heights on the way home we took the last few of the evening. In these pictures I walked a ways ahead of Nick and stopped - this way we got the beautiful background and foreground with myself in the middle. People driving by honked and yelled and a few children told us we were cool. Ha. They thought I was a model. Wow. I still can't believe it.

Tonight is for laundry and lounging. Nothing more, nothing less.

For my family, Nick enjoyed the skittles Katie bought and sent with me for him. Hello to you all from New York. It's beautiful and cold here. Thank God for that. Enjoy the heat and I'll see you all next month. God, I love this place.

Now I know of nothing else to say, except that here I am happy. It's good to be back.

And it's good to be home.

I'll see you all next month.

Happy 18th, my darling.

Mon, 18 Dec 2006 19:41:03 GMT

The moment I said it.
The moment I opened my mouth.
Let in your eye lids
Bulldoze the life out of me.
I know what you’re thinking.
But darling you’re nothing constrained.
Suddenly things just happened, we can’t explain…

It’s not even like that…but you’ve somewhere to be.
No hesitation…no one ever sees you like this.
And I don’t like it…I don’t like it...I don’t like it at all.

Just put back the car keys…or somebody’s gonna get hurt.
Who are you calling at this hour?
Sit down, come round, I need you now.
We’ll work it all out, together.
But we’re getting nowhere tonight.
Now sleep, I promise it‘ll all seem better…somehow…in time.

It’s not even like that.
Suddenly…oh, you’ve somewhere to be.
No hesitation…oh, I’ve never seen you like this.
You’re scaring me…you’re scaring me…you’re scaring me…to death.

Don’t…oh (smash)…
Please don’t…oh (I do, please, another one)
Don’t…oh (smash)…
Please don’t…oh (I do, please, another one)

I’m losing you.
Trust me on this one.
I’ve got it bad for you.
Trust me on this one
You’re gonna throw it all away…
With no hesitation.

Today is the 18th. Happy what would have been our 8th month. I wish it hadn't started like this. I'm sorry that this week has been so rough that I couldn't call you. I'm sorry some stupid child got to you before I did. But some jealous girl's vendetta is not my fault. I could appoligize a hundred times, but, I know you, better than anyone else. And the internet doesn't mean anything.
YOU come first, I love YOU.
You are the one.
I can not and will not justify myself here. Tonight, let me talk. I'll tell you my side. Don't just listen to some stupid little girl.
I'm so sorry she talked to you before I could. I'm so sorry.

Is she too young?

Sun, 03 Dec 2006 03:06:47 GMT

My stomach is writhing.

Talk to me.
No.
Talk to me.
No.
You need me.
You need me.

What are you staring at?
The little girl.
What little girl?
That one.
The blond?
With the white dress and pigtails.
Oh.
Yes.

Why her?
I don't know.
Do you love her?
In a way.
You love children.
Yes.
So you love her.
Yes.

Look at her.
No.
Why?
Because I know her.
So? I do too.
I know.
Then look.
No.
Coward.
Yes I am.

I want her.
You want her?
Yes.
Why?
Because she's beautiful.
So? So are you.
In a different way.
How?
She is young.
You were young once.
Once.
Once.

Hold my hand.
No.
Why?
Look at her.
WHY?
If you look I will hold your hand.
Fine.
What do you see?
I see me.
So do I.
Is that why you want her?
Yes. I think. I don't know.

Where is her mother?
Gone.
Was she ever there?
I haven't seen her.
Her father?
Gone.
What do you think?
I think I am dreaming.
YOU'RE dreaming?
Yes.
I think I'M dreaming.
Sure.
Hold my hand.
We are holding hands.
No we're not.
We always were.

You can't you know.
What?
She's not yours.
I know. I just like to watch.
Who is that?
Her dad I think.
Where's he taking her?
I don't know.
Oh.

Why would it be so bad?
Taking a child?
No.
Oh. You know why.
Why does it matter what they think?
You tell me.
I don't know.
Liar.
Yes.
Why does it matter what they think?
Because I care.
And they can make you miserable.
Yeah.
Why does that hold you back?
Being miserable? That's a pretty stupid question.
No. Caring.
Because I don't want to hurt them
Don't you think that if this is what you want they'd understand?
No.
Why?
Because they never do.
Then you're weaving your own web of discontent.
Shut up.
No.
Then fuck off.
No.

I'm right, you know.
No, you're not.

She's gone now.
Who?
The girl.
I know.
Yes.
I hope she is happy.
Probably not.
Shut up.
Less than half of America stays together. Why would her family be different?
I didn't say it was, I just hope she is happy.
She's not.
God, you're a downer.
No, I'm a realist.
No, I'm a realist.
You're a dreamer.
I am a pessimist with an optimistic attitude.
You're stupid.
What the fuck is wrong with you?
I'M RIGHT!
Fine! You're right! Happy???
No.
Now who's weaving their own web of discontent?
You know what would make me happy.
And vis versa.
It is the same.
Yes.

This fight is endless you know.
No it's not. We already know what we want.
Yes. But it'll never end.
Yes it will. All things end.
No. They don't.

Let us let life choose.
We've already chosen.
No. We haven't. And we can't.
Why?
Because something has to happen first.
Yes.
Someday.
Someday.

Until then?
I don't know.
We wait.
Yes.
Hold me.
No.
Why?
I don't know.
Let me hold you.
Ok.

Perhaps this is only the beginning.
It begins at a kiss.
Then it began a long time ago.
Yes.
Then we are somewhere in the middle.
Yes.
Kiss me.
No.
Why?
I can't.
Why?
I don't know.
Then let me kiss you.
Fine.
You make me sad.

I love you.
Then kiss me.
No.
Then I will leave.
For good?
No.
Why?
Because I can't.
Good.

Good-bye.
See you soon.
Good-bye.
No.
Good-bye.
No.

Good-bye.
Come back.
No.

My stomach is writhing.

Don't jump off the cliff with the crowd, drive down in your car.

Sun, 03 Dec 2006 02:23:55 GMT

So I got online tonight to register for school again and got everything done except the acutal registering. Annoying. BC is telling me I have to wait until the sixth. Oh well.

Anyway. I was thinking about BC when I was talking to one of my friends about it earlier today and it made me remember why I left it in the first place. I hate core classes. Once one is out of high school school should be centered around one's career not what others want one to know. High school was terrible, I don't enjoy going to a college that is so incredibly reminicent of that time. It's rediculous. I hate not learning anything new.

And then there's the fact that I'm not even sure I want a career. Not because of some bum reason, but because I want a family. I want to stay at home and take care of wee ones. I hate that American's think it's a waste to have children and not persue a career. I hate that American's prioritize jobs over family. I don't understand this. To be quite honest it fucking pisses me off. I hate the pressure all this puts on those of us who are young.

Why must I be forced to have a career when all I want is to eventually have a family? Why the hell can't one's greatest aspirations be to have children and a healthy, functional, family?

I love my family, and I know that all they want is for me to have a "better" life than they had, but I think my definition of a "better life" is much different than theirs.

Fuck motivation and fuck laziness. I don't believe it's a matter of motivation or laziness because having and raising children well is not laziness. I think this is all just a problem of indecision.

Sooner or later I have to do what I want. Not what other people want me to do. Sooner or later I have to decide whether it's worth it to get a doctorates if I'm going to have children.

Why is wanting a family such a negative thing in this world? Is it because of the fact that less than 50% of Americans stay married? So basically it's a bad thing because the majority have lost hope that families can be anything more than mediocre and therefore have turned to the workplace for comfort. Thereby making the workplace family and family the workplace. Have the roles been switched?

It used to be that when man hated his job he quit, is this what has become of families? If you don't like yours you quit?

Fucking rediculous. I hate this societal robotic mindset American's insist of abiding by. Get your own oppinions. Why the hell is it so hard for people to do that? Don't jump off the cliff with the crowd, drive down in your car.

Fucking retarded. I love persons, I hate people. I love people, I hate society.

Well I have my own oppinion. Family comes first. No career is worth more. Yes, I will go to school and persue psychology because I love psychology - but the moment I have children and my family starts, I don't care where I'm at in school, family is first. Because I love family more than I've ever loves psychology, writing, singing, intamology, herpitology, egyptology, art, music, and fashion. In the end, those are just interests and my goal is family.

Fuck you if you dissagree with me. You have your oppinion and I have mine.

Tell me.

Sat, 02 Dec 2006 07:05:46 GMT

Tell me.
Am I too young?
I feel ancient.
I am ancient.

Though my body has, but six years yet.
And it is in need of mending.

Tell me.
Am I too young?
Draw your own conlusions.
Ask your own questions.

But answer mine.

I see them running.
Their smiling faces.
Their hands.
Their eyes.

They smile when I smile.
They laugh when I laugh.
I point and they look.

Tell me.
Am I too young?
Because my mother is younger than I.

Tell me.
Am I too young?
Not a single year has lasted less than four.
Not a single day less than seven.

Tell me.
Tell me.

Because I don't know.
And time runs out.

Time is always running out.

The matter of money

Sat, 02 Dec 2006 05:41:41 GMT

So this is the story. I finally had spending money for the first time since the amazing New York trip this pay check and was incredibly excited. The only bill I had to pay was my phone bill and that was pretty much less than half my check.

But then we had some massive problems with the phone company. See, since my dad's name is the main one on the account he has to give me permission to pay the bill. So he called to give them his permission but they were closed on Sunday so I couldn't call until Monday. When I called them they said he has to call before I do every time I try to pay the bill and give permission. The only way to make his permission permenant would be for him to send in a letter. So I decided I'd enjoy myself for now and pay for my phone on Friday when I get paid again.

Then the storage facility called. It turns out that I was 7 dollars short and my check for last months rent was rejected. So I owe them that plus next months rent.

Then I have rent for my apt.

Here's the kicker. Matt lost his job - again. Fucking again. So he can't make rent and, since he's been smoking pot again, there's no way he can get a job for another month or so. Fuck that shit.

So today, Tonya and I decided to kick him out.

The good part of all this is, my mom decided that for Christmas (early present) she's going to get my stuff out of storage. With my stuff out of storage Tonya and I don't even have to look for another room mate cuz after Christmas we can afford our place by ourselves. Fuck yes. And we get our own rooms.

In short, I'm pretty much not buying anyone anything until after Christmas.
We are, though, having a New Years party. I can't wait Nick (you must call me btw, I'm going insane), it's going to be amazing. We're not sure if it's going to be a masqerade(sp?)/Mardi gras-esqe party or a black and white party. We'll see. Either way 'twill be amazing.

One of the neighborhood girls told me her mother saw me at a bar.
It must have been a while back cuz, Cosmos aside, I can't remember the last bar I went to.

Anyway, I'd really, REALLY like to get drunk. I'm fucking losing my mind. I've no idea how I'm going to afford all this shit.

oie. wtf...?

Money is the Essense of evil.

Sat, 02 Dec 2006 03:38:06 GMT

So I have a massive delima on my hands here. Starting with my phone, taking a fork to visit my room mate and ending with now Christmas presents for anyone.

I hate money and all that it entails. Why can't we just trade valuable goods like every other country in the world? WTF??

Anyway. I'll finish this off when I have more time. I have a lot to do and not enough time to do it.

And I don't believe I'm going to sleep tonight. Oie....

This is not going to be fun.
This is not how I wanted to start the season.
Oh well.

Thu, 23 Nov 2006 05:14:47 GMT

Today I feel very appreciative of life. I don't know why. Perhaps it's because of On California Corners. But I really don't know.

It might also be because of my new friend Johnny O. We've been friends for a while but today we finally had our first real conversation. You know, besides stupid Target small talk. He's pretty cool.

Fucking Target.

I hate this time of year.

Anyway.
I know he likes me because of the way he hugs me and how he's always so eager to tell me how amazing I am. And I'm always hearing him saying things like "I love Frenchy, she's so cool," or "Isn't Frenchy awesome? I love her," when I walk away. And he's always leaving me little loving commentson myspace. I'm pretty sure he likes me more than he should actually. He's been giving me that look as of late. I can see the longing when I walk up and practically feel his eyes as I walk away. And when he hugs me it's almost like this massive release of tention only to be replaced by another type of tention. And I don't mean sexually, although I'm sure that's there too.

I'd really like to go back to school. I could be on my way to a doctorates right now. Instead I'm wasting my time at Tarjay. Although I did finally make my apointment to remove the HPV. I just hope it hasn't gotten worse since my last apt.

God, what the hell is the matter with me.

God it bothers me that there are so few schools that offer sexual psychology classes. It still boggles my mind that BC has two. God, I need to get out of this mother fucking town. I almost regret the things I did in high school that have brought me here.

Then again. I like me. I like who I am and it took all the rediculousness to get me here.

I'm also incredibly frightened that I will screw up. I can feel it. It's as though I'm destined to fail.

And I can't have a family and be a psychologist. This statement always bothers me when I think about school, my chosen proffession and the life I really want to live. It may seem like a massive cop out to you people out there, but it really bothers me.

I've got to have a family. It's not a want, it's a need. A must.

This entry is geared more to myself than anyone. Just speculation.
I feel weird. I feel like talking to myself.

I've danced this dance before. It's been a while though. It's too bad I'm not interested. I can already feel myself leading him on. The poor guy doesn't even stand a chance.

Boy oh boy, I'm a terrible person.

I feel emo tonight. Give me a knife that I might drive it into my arm. 'Twould be another lovely scar to add to the many MANY others. lmao. Normal people probably wouldn't find that funny. lol.

But I do.
lol.
I do.
lol.

Opera is playing in the living room. It's so lovely. I feel that I might be moved to tears.

Simply beautiful. I love opera.
I love to sing opera.
Nick, I wish you didn't make me so nervous, then perhaps I could sing to you. Really sing. I'm really quite good at it. You're just such a freakin music snob it makes me nervous. DO:< :O)

I like being friends with people who can't sing.
I expect that makes me pretty pathetic.
It does.

I don't care.
Concieted people can have low self esteem too.
lmao.
How ironic.
How oxie moronic.

I write novels in my head.
Compleat volumes in my sleep.
But when it comes to here.
When It comes to Now.
It's motivation I lack.
Not talent.

Mon, 20 Nov 2006 02:10:14 GMT

OH I'M SO EXCITED!!!

THIS IS GOING TO BE AMAZING.

I'm not sure how this inspiration is going to take form but, I'm sure, whatever it is, IT'S GOING TO BE AMAZING.

Tonight is a night for incredibility.

That's right, I said incredibility.

C'est tres super

Mon, 20 Nov 2006 01:42:44 GMT

I feel inspired tonight...

Sun, 19 Nov 2006 23:02:48 GMT

Man, no comments. That makes me kinda sad. I'm totally unloved. Lame.

But yeah, if you still want to, call me.

Thank you.

Sun, 19 Nov 2006 04:51:12 GMT

I already said this, but thank you for calling. It meant a lot to me. Thank you for being here for me. Thank you so so much.

I needed you tonight, and, without me asking, you were there.

I'm sad too, all the time, and I'm sorry.

I hope we both feel better soon.

We still have each other, even if only in an abstract way.

Thank you so much for your call. Thank you so much for showing me that you care.

I love you, darling. Here's me kissing you.

You should fix this sadness of yours.
Or tell me how I could help.

PS: I can't WAIT to hear the finished product of your story. I'M SO EXCITED!!! And I'll be sure to soon look up the other story.

Sat, 18 Nov 2006 23:25:14 GMT

Awe Arrested Development is amazing. I'm in a much better mood now.

My cat keeps jumping in my lap and stepping in all the wrong spots. It's quite painful.

No, what I was really going to write is, I just noticed that in one of the episodes of AD, in the first season, there's this scene where George Michael is sad and walking around all sadlike and in the background theres a little red dog house with a beagal asleep on top.

Effing genius!!! I swear, theres something new every time you watch that freakin show!!! Freakin amazing!

So in a nut shell, I'm quite amused.

Also the actors who play Michael and Lindsey are both very attractive.

mmmyes...

And the fingernail polish is still perfect, about this I am also happy. This could be a milestone.

Sat, 18 Nov 2006 19:34:46 GMT

I'm sorry. I shouldn't have written that. Please don't be offended. I'm just very sad.

But I wont delete it.

Sat, 18 Nov 2006 19:27:41 GMT

Today is the 18th. Normally this day would be a very special day. It has been for six months. I'm almost used to it being special.

I hate the colour gray. Black is awesome, white is ok, even brown is amazing - it's one of my favorite colours. But gray is terrible. Not hot, not cold. You'd think it'd be a happy median, but it's not. Nope. It's just crap.

"Sleep my friend.

Such a brittle leaf
As you lie upon the ground
I'm so worried

You look so feeble
So broken and hurt
Yet beautiful

I hate that all I can do is sit here and watch.
Watch as you lie
Sit as you sleep.

I can do nothing."

I was looking over my old blogs and found that poem.

I am somewhat angry right now. I almost want to write a fucking rant, but I think that might be a little too 7th grade. And yet, perhaps a rant journal is what I need.
Perhaps I will write in my real journal today.

I used to be so happy. You used to be happy.

"I'm really happy with life right now.

'Life is a happy thing right now. =)'"

You were supposed to be different. You were supposed to be stronger than me. I can't always be the strong one. But I am. And perhaps I always was.
I wish you didn't hate yourself so much, then perhaps this day would still be something special.
We could have been the ones who made it.
We could have been the ones who beat the odds.
And now we're not.
And I'm the one with the dunce cap.
I wish you hadn't given up.
I wish today was still ours.
I wish we were still happy.
I hate that we aren't and we both know we aren't, but neither of us does anything about it.
And I almost hate that you're not like the others.
I could easily get over the others.
And I hate being pittied.
I hate that you're probably not half as depressed as I am today.
I hate that we must wait until Christmas Eve to be happy again.

And I hate being sick, cuz it makes everything seem that much more dramatic.

I think I feel like writing a song.

Now I'm going to watch Arrested Developement, because it makes me laugh. And I am so God Damn tired of crying.

Sat, 18 Nov 2006 00:01:11 GMT

wake up wake up wake up wake up

I can't
wake up
I can't
wake up
I can't
wake up

Dream dream dream dream
sleep sleep sleep
time
sleep
time
sleep

Wake
awake
sleep
wake
sleep
awake

Stop
stop stop
stop

Please stop
please stop
please stop

Please
stop
please

Thoughts
thinking
never stops
never sleeps
thoughts
dreams

Dreams
cold
Freezing cold
frozen
ice
idon'tknowidon'tknowidon'tknowidon'tknowidon'tknow

I don't know.
I don't know.

Red
Dreams
Red
Dreams
Red
Dreams

Tired
Thinking
Sleep
Red
Dreams
Wake
Awake
Red
Awake
Red
Awake

Can't stop
Stop
Can't stop
Stop
Stop
Stop

Stop

Please just STOP

I've lost my mind

Recent conversations with Sarah

Mon, 13 Nov 2006 21:54:16 GMT

Sarah: "You're totally wearing flip flops."
Me: "I SO am."
"You're so California, Frenchy."
"Heck yes."

Sarah: "Yeah, Leah's pretty cool, you know, operator Leah? Except she seems like one of those girls who's always on her period."
Me: "Yeah, for real."
"Not in a PMS sort of way, just in a there's always tampons in her pocket, and in her trash can. Like if she where a lesbian there'd be no way she'd get a girlfriend."
"Yeah, she just seems to secrete pheromones."
"YES!!! YOU GET IT!!"

Me: "I love HEATH bars, they're the best candy bars EVER."
Sarah: "I like that they stick to your teeth."
"Heck yes, it's like leftovers."

Sarah: "AWE! That kid totally just made my day! He gave me this HUGE, sincere, smile and I just knew he'd grow up to be just like me."

Sarah: "Dude! Lets totally buy some mayonnaise to dip our cheese in for the trip! It'll be amazing!"
Me: "Heck yes!!! I LOVE mayonnaise! I'm so happy you do too!!!"
"I was kidding."
"I was so serious."

Sarah: "I love my make-up case, I love the little animals."
Me: "I love that the animals are totally rainbow."
"Yeah, it's colorful."
"RAINBOW ANIMALS ARE FUN!"

Sarah: "I like you Mz. Frenchy, you're fun."
Me: "Heck yes I am."

Micheal(to Sarah): "That is SO last season."
Me(to Micheal): "I don't believe in seasons, I believe in buying what looks good."
Sarah: "Heck yes! Thank you Dr. French!"

Sarah: "'Mr. Pants' is genius because it's like when you wanna say 'Mr. Smartypants,' or 'Mr. Crappypants' but you can't think of the right word so you just say 'Mr. Pants.'"

Sarah: "Sweet action."

Sarah: "WACKYWAVINGINFLATABLEARMFLAYLINGTUBEMAN!!!"

Sarah: "Modest Mouse is me."

Sarah: "I love how Frenchy and I have this thing where we're like 'you're totally doing something,' and 'I SO am."

Sarah: "AAAAHHHHAHAHAHA!!!"

I have WAY too much time on my hands today.

Mon, 13 Nov 2006 21:06:09 GMT

So I've heard "Chasing Cars" by Snow Patrol everyday for a week - maybe more.If I haven't heard it on the radio then I've heard it at home.

I realize it's a very popular song (what was it? number 20 two weeks ago?), but what are the chances that I would walk into the back room at the moment it's playing on the radio? And every day no less.

Also, I realize that all radio stations play about 50 songs over and over and over again.

That means that my chances of hearing that one song, specifically, when I walk to the back room are 1/50 times 50 times 24 times 7. Which means that my chances of hearing that one song everyday, on the radio, for a week is 1/1640. Nice.

Unless my math is wrong of course. It's been a while since I took the classes.

Anyway, I'm thinking It might be a sign???
Perhaps I'm crazy???
Je'nais c'est quio.

So it seems, Megan, that you and I both have too much time on our hands today. So I'm totally writing a no-point-what-so-ever-journal. I'm the biggest loser ever.

I'm totally listening to "Talking shit about a pretty sunset" by Modest mouse. It's freakin amazing. I Love. I love. Tee hee.
This is my tranquil/sad/happy mix. Tee hee. I LOVE DOWNLOADING MUSIC!!! Yeah, all this time I couldn't afford CD's, now I can fucking make my own!!! WWWWWOOOOOOOOOFUCKINGWHOOOOOOOOO!!! Pardon the obsenitys, I'm just VERY happy about this.

So my mom's supposed to come over later and watch a movie. It'll be cool. "Twill be the first time a member of my family will be coming to MY place to hang out.

Good times.

What the hell am I writing this for? I'm so effing bored. I could be reading right now, but if read I have to stop to sing with the music, whereas I can sing and type at the same time... for the most part. Occasionally I end up typing what I'm singing, or singing what I'm typing. But then again the mind can only do so much.

I've been SO FREAKING philosophical lately. Perhaps it's because Sarah is also a philosophical type.

Heck yes "The widow" by Mars Volta.
I love downloading music. I love my playlist. I love music. I love having all the music I've ever wanted at my fingertips.

HELL FUCKING YES.

"Ooooooh, you know I'm such a fool for you... you've got me wrapped around your finger ah ahah aaaah...." I enjoy the fact that the Cranberries are one of those groups that are very good live. Being my favorite band of all time, I would be very sad if they weren't. I think I lose a significant amount of respect for amazing bands that are only amazing on CD. I suppose in some part of my brain I feel true talent means not haveing to edit one's voice to sound good.

Sarah really likes my voice. It makes me feel wonderful. For some reason I think I have a problem singing with other music snobs (like you guys: Nick and Megan). Cowardis? Well I don't care, so I'm afraid of dissopointing other people I, personally, think are good. I can't be brave about EVERYTHING.

So I'm not perfect. At least, not in my own eyes.

For some reason Sarah and I talk a lot about girls. Perhaps because, we, too, are girls. Perhaps because we two have many of the same problems with girls. Although girls don't automatically hate her as they do me (and I suppose for good reason) she has a hard time liking girls. Which is something, I too, have a problem with, although I don't often admit it. I suppose it's easier for me to be judjmental with girls because of how they often treat me.

Now, I'm not much of a gossip, I HATE gossip, it's a rediculously human/weak way of relating to others and making one's self feel better. I think it's all bullshit.

But I do enjoy sharing observations and analys' of others, if one's views are close to mine. Sarah and I both seem to be very adept when it comes to people. It's much fun.

I'm kinda hungry but not enough to eat anything in the house. Mainly because all I have in the house that is mine is Heath bars, chips and dip.

I like chocolate and chips. They are my weaknesses.

Oh well. I'm not too hungry. I'll just not eat.

I'm thinking it's probably time to finish this enty.

fin.

My Apartment

Mon, 13 Nov 2006 17:26:52 GMT

Right now water is slowly filling my bathtub, where I plan to soak and read for an hour or so. From my bedroom the Garden State soundtrack is playing just loud enough to fill the apartment. I am alone, as I usually am here. It is only a recent developement that Tonya and Matt stay home at night. Still neither of them are home as much as I am.

As time goes by my apartment looks more and more like a home.

I finally finished my room yesterday. Or at least made it as finished as it's going to get until I get my stuff. I finally put the prints on my wall instead of leaving them on the floor, and I took the massive picuture frame out of my closet, took out most of the old ones and replaced them with new.

My hallway is a shrine to my family and friends. Someday I'm sure I'll put up those prints.

What used to be a cluttered corner for crap, that is our diningroom now holds a shelf, a desk and a beautiful sparkling Christmas tree. And our living room has a coffee table. Even the broken popason(sp?) looks inviting now.

I am happy to come home to a place that doesn't feel so unfinished. I am happy that it is looking more like a place to live and not so much a place to keep our stuff. Although it does not yet FEEL like a home I am a firm believer that home is dedicated to families.

I am happy to call this place mine. And I am happy that it is.

But my water is done and my book looks absolutely irresistable, so I'm going to leave you, and bask in the comfort that is my tub.

I hope your homes are as "yours" as mine is for me.

It is good that I was bad.

Thu, 02 Nov 2006 07:34:13 GMT

Having been a very bad person, having used, abused, fucked and... everything in between, I've picked up a few things.

For one, I've dealt with a hell of a lot of shit. And dealt my own to others.

And I've been here before. Although they weren't half as close.

I'm smart, I'm wise and I'm strong.

And I don't let things bother me for long periods of time. Especially not this kind of stuff.

Thank you for telling me. Thank you for being honest.
Thank you for trying.
I'm going to sleep.

I feel light as a feather, and heavy as earth.

Wed, 01 Nov 2006 09:06:05 GMT

All I am is a body floating down wind....
It's 70ish degrees. I shouldn't be this cold.

But I am.

Lemon in the sky

Sun, 29 Oct 2006 05:56:24 GMT

This is a story that has been aching in my mind. Pretty autobiographical, but I think, this one, is worth being written down. Perhaps someday I will write the whole story.

I can't breathe. My heart is pounding in my chest.

I am remembering his kiss. His lips as they run up and down my neck.
Up and down...
His hands in mine.
I can feel his arms.
No, Beth's arms. His mother. She is squeezing me. I can't breath.
Can't see.
God, kill me.
Someone please.
Kill me. Anything is better than this.
Those are the engines, and that is the plane.
Those are the landing gears coming up.
That is the nose as it plunges towards the clouds.
The man in the window is him.
The man in the window is mine.
And that speck in the sky, the one that just dissopeared, is carrying him away.

Fly away.

The whole family is here. His parents, Beth and Steven. Gennevieve, his sister, cradling her baby son to her breasts as her husband, Jason, kisses him.
"Baby Danny," he coos, "baby Danny..." over and over and over. I think my head might explode. They don't even see the plane dissopear. They are so happy. I was so happy.

We were so happy.

I'm sobbing on his mother's shoulder.
"It's alright, it's alright, please don't cry."
But I can't stop. And these tears are hurting now. I've cried them all out. There is not a drop of moisture left in my body. Only on my face.
I'm gasping for air.
She kisses my forehead, and we walk towards the car.
I can't stop watching.
There it goes...
Up and up and up...
It is but a shining speck, unnoticable by anyone but me.
It is gone.
He is gone.
"Good bye," I manage to expell from my rapidly expanding and detracting neck, "Good bye. I love you. Good bye..."

I don't go home. I know my room mates will look at me with those oh so sympathetic eyes. I call my grandmother.
"Hello?"
"Grandma?" I am sobbing my endless, nonexsistand tears.
"Danyelle? Is that you?"
"Yeah."
"What's wrong?"
"It's Jack, he just flew away."
"Oh, dear."
"Can I come over and sleep? I really don't want to go home. I just want to sleep."

I don't even call in to work. I collapse on her couch. When I wake, she is gone.
There are cookies on the table, with a note: "To Danii, with love."
I collapse in the chair and cry.

I remember the game. I had never gone bowling, but, for some reason, my friends got the crazy notion to play. My boyfriend, Gary, was off sleeping, as usual. He was always sleeping. Or plunging his hungry member into my unresponsive, bored, body.
I was happy... wasn't I?
Jack was adorable. I'd had had my eyes on him for a while.
My mind wandered to forbidden places, "if it weren't for Gary, I'd have him," I told my friend.
"You guys would make an awesome couple," she said.
It was my turn. I threw the ball straight into the gutter. Yea for me. Fifteenth consecutive gutter balls. I was on a roll.
"Hey, Jack," my friend said, "Why don't you show her how it's done?"
He stood behind me, his hand cupping mine as we swung the ball together. My entire body tingled. Bowling should never be so erotic.
"Like this." He said.
Aparenlty strikes are a good thing when bowling.
We talked for hours that night, under the lemon slice painted in the sky. Took a walk, all the while standing as close as possible without touching.
"I haven't talked to someone, really talked, in over a year," he said.
"Me either."
I could feel his shoulder, though it never touched mine. Our knuckles brushed at our sides.
Fireworks.
He sang to me and I wanted so much for our lips to join.
He kissed me.
I kissed him.
And when we made love, I had never known anything so sweet.

Gary was surprised and relieved to see me go. I was just a piece of ass. He could have any. Or, at least, that was what he told me, calmly, as I walked out the door and into Jack's arms.
I had never cheated before.
Awe well. Perhaps, if he had trusted me, I wouldn't have done so.
Oh irony.

Jack became my best friend, he was ever at my side. When my mother falsely accused me of "selling myself" he was there. When my father threatened to dissown me, he kissed away my tears. When I broke down on his couch after that movie, he whiped my nose with his shirt. After every bad dream he held me.
And when I was tempted to burry myself in alcohol and drugs, Jack was the reason I didn't.

We both knew he had to leave. It was the reason I had never talked to him, the reason he never asked me out.
Or anyone for that matter.
Every moment was as intense and real as the first kiss. When there is so little time, everyday must embody years in order to make up.
I fell for him faster and deeper than I'd ever thought possible. Past loves were juvenile next to him. I think I loved him after the first day, when I woke on his couch, his arms around me and the movie menu still playing on the screen. When he opened his eyes and kissed me for the first time.
I loved him then.

I love him now.

We were inseparable, and our relationship was beyond healthy - sexually, intellecutally and emotionally. Our compatibility was undenyable. We never fought, nor did we have any reason to. His mother loved me, and he was the first boyfriend my entire family approved of. For the first time in years, when my father looked at me, it was with respect and not repulsion.

Our happiness seemed to make others sick.
Or give them hope.

I remember the very moment I knew he loved me. It was the night we fell asleep on the lawn. Mosquitos were swarming and it was cold, but we kept each other warm.
"I haven't cried in a year," he said, holding me close.
"I couldn't imagine."
"Wait, no, I cried about a week ago."
"The night we talked about you leaving?"
"Yeah I think so."
"Wow, I'm the first person to witness you cry in a year."
"What if I fail? What if I get to school and it's just like it was last time?"
"Honey, you can't let your fears get in the way of what you want."
"But it's not just a fear."
"I know, and I understand."
"No you don't."
"Yes I do. This cronic lack of motivation is not just a fear."
"Yes you do," he sighed.
"You've got to get past your fears, accept that this is how you are."
He looked at me and I could see it in his eyes, "Why are we so alike? Why do you feel so good? We just... fit."
I smiled at him.
"What it comes down to is: three weeks ago I wasn't leaving anyone, and now I am."
"You know I would never ask you to stay."
"Why, when you say it, does it seem so much more real?"
I could feel the tears starting and shook my head unable to speak.
"What are we going to do?"
"I don't know."

Jack is a very talented painter. His portriat of me hangs over my fireplace. I am the first girlfriend he has ever painted. He has a very bright future and a sizable scholarship to a top of the rung college halfway across the world. And, though it tore my heart to pieces, I could never ask him to give up his dream, his passion.
And I never did.

The night before he left we spent the night With Gennevieve, Jason and the baby, laughing and joking, crying and singing, painting and playing. When they left, we lie together on the couch, sleep waiting at the corner of our eyes.

Don't fall asleep. Don't fall asleep...

"We have come full circle," Jack said, kissing my forhead, his arms tight around me, "I love you, Danyelle. So much."
"I love you too."

I woke alone, he was in the shower. I wondered around the house unable to think, unable to talk. Beth and Steven fussed around the house: last minute preparations. I just sat there, catatonic.
And there he was, in his dress shirt, clean and beautiful, like our first morning together. I had never seen such an amazing sight. I'd never loved anything more.
We piled into separate cars, Jack and I in one, Beth and Steven in the other.
"Here we go," I said as we started the car. He squeezed my hand and the first tears started then, at 5:27am.
They haven't stopped.
The airport was as dismal and tiresome as the last time I was there. The day my uncle flew in to visit my very sick grandfather.
The anouncement came for his flight.
He took me in his arms and held me closer than ever before.
"Goodbye," I said, "Goodbye."
He kissed me, "Goodbye."

At the security gate he came back for one more hug, each. Mine was the last, and the longest.
"I love you."
"I love you."
One last kiss, one last hug, one last goodbye.

Gone.

I'm eating a cookie. My face is hurting. I cry, but there are no tears.
I sit, but I am not here.
The phone rings, but I do not pick up.
I drink water, and it is gone out my eyes.

Three days pass. I'm in the shower, the phone rings.
I do not answer.
Jack and I had our phone call earlier. He'd told me of an old homeless man he was going to paint: A moody guy, possibly schizophrenic.
I whipe at my swollen face.
The tears never stop.

The answering machine is blinking at me as I pour my tea.
It is Beth.
Jack has been hurt.
An attack. Homless man robs local painter.
Multiple stabbings, lungs punctured.

Gone.

I am at the funeral.
I see his body and he smiles at me.
"Hello, honey," he says, "come home," he says.
I look in the mirror.
I am but a shadow.
I am transparant.
I have lost.
My heart does not beat. My lungs do not work.
I am falling.
I am leaving.
I am gone.

Goodbye...