nothing in here is true

2008-07-10T13:38:00.000-07:00

I've said it a million times so not even sure if I can believe it myself, but I really feel like getting back in to it. I feel good, I feel excited, I feel like I'm opening a new book and everything is right in front of me. To cliche it up, I feel like anythings possible.

Maybe more than anything it's just another excuse to not deal with life, not deal with cleaning, not deal with taxes, not deal with all the things piling up over the past three years. But, either way, it would be good for me to write, for you. To do something artistic and wake up that sleeping part of me. Maybe that's what's been missing, maybe that's what's been wrong.

And maybe, maybe I could keep it fictitious enough for everyone to see.

Maybe this time.

2008-01-16T16:15:00.000-08:00

Can't imagine anyone even comes here any more, but, enough is enough. Perhaps it's been long enough that enough is forgotten and I can do this with a clean slate, or clear conscience. Perhaps not who knows. Either way I need to write. There is really nothing else for me to do and it's about time. I'm 29 years old, I can not wait any longer.

2007-10-20T04:08:00.001-07:00

it doesnt matter. all the excuses, all the reasons, even if plausible, even if legit. they don't matter. it all comes down to basic bullshit. if you want it, you go for it. no should i, shouldnt i, no games, no i cant, lay back, play it cool. if you want it, you walk straight up to it, you pass the drunken moving crowd, you walk thru spilt gin and get your feet stepped on. if you want it, you get it.

so on the ride home, in the car, no matter what anyone says, and no matter how much you may think they have a point, and even if they do, EVEN IF THEY DO, it's all too little, all too late, all not worth what you yourself are.

and so finally, on this shitty october day, when the storm came in, and the radio reported hell on earth, finally i close up shop. finally my last half alive. finally my last adventure for the year. i sow it up. i turn the music down, the lights right off, and away i go to sleep, hoping to wake up in another life.

i'm so done. and so thankful for those that were there at the start, and so will be in the end.

2007-10-10T03:37:00.000-07:00

i'm done for real this time

i'll let some of you know when i set up my ultra special secret private blog.

peace.

2007-10-09T01:22:00.000-07:00

the gong show that is a continuation of my life, kicked into over drive thursday. after a less than desirable wednesday, when the man i wanted to go out with stood me up, and i stood up the man i'd doubled booked with. my fourth period headache in as many days kicked in, and i went to bed having achieved nothing productive on my one day off. thursday after work found me in a rushed cab downtown to get loaded and continue my attempt at baggin' a d.j. forty million double rum and cokes later, we ended up on the beach with said d.j.'s, none of them showing any real interest in me, and me too drunk to care. dragged off by my much cooler friend, i was thrown in a cab and there the fun really started. couldn't tell you the last time i threw up, i'd actually started to believe i was immune to the booze, but the spins started and it was all i could do to keep it all in. in front of my house, finally making it there, i opened the door to end up with a gun in my face and flashing lights and yelling voices. i wasn't allowed out the cab and so instead had to sit and wonder how the hell i was going to make it across the street, down the driveway, up the stairs and put my keys in the door. apparently a cab in the neighbourhood had been hijacked and they had to check us out. timing at it's perfection. i fell asleep on the heated tile next to my toilet.

friday i slept until 30 minutes before i was required at work, knowing it would be busy and i needed to eat, i stumbled across the street and back, not wanting food and unable to decide what to get. thankfully the slurpee pulled me through the shift and the 6 glasses of wine when i got off, set me into action. so when i arrived at my friends house for her birthday party, i was in fine form. hoping from lap to lap i made a fool of myself in the best possible way, and entertained, as i'm want to do. the lovely evening ended with me and one of the most beautiful men i've ever known on the couch, fucking our brains out. and laughing.

saturday found me with a brain as good as mush, and i set off to my other job, for only my third shift, on one of the busiest nights we'd see. feeling like i'd been either drunk or hungover for 8 years straight, i couldn't get my head wrapped around anything. sometimes i fade into space mode and this night was a disaster, i couldn't pull myself together for the shift and thus left hating it. hating it and dreading it, despising my last boss for putting me in this position.

all the while my phone was off the hook, texts from boys from previous weekends, texts from the boy that stood me up, texts from the boy i spent the night naked with, texts from birthday boys and texts from the friend i'd hurt by spending the night of last on her couch with her supposed crush on her birthday. which was all a misunderstanding since i'd crushed him first and he'd liked me from the start and she'd laid claim on the boy whose lap i'd just gotten off.

i am a gem.

after work i put on my highest heels and best dress and ran my ass off to make it to another birthday boys party, where the face, ah the face of previous posts, the face who is my biggest weakness, and his twin and brother would be. but soon after my arrival, as i waited in line for the elixir of life, at this point in mine, they left without a hug or goodbye. i spent that night asleep next to another toilet with my arms wrapped around my pregnant best friends belly.

somehow i survived sunday, and sundays shift, and powered through today by making a full turkey dinner. i am sick and in love, with myself. haha.

2007-10-01T01:44:00.000-07:00

i'm trying to make myself write for 15 minutes a day, at least 5 days a week. 15 minutes because that's how lazy and pathetic i am. i figure baby steps are pretty much my only plausible solution to the whole problem of never doing anything positive or life enhancing. as much as i enjoy dancing in night clubs, sucking back vodka and drooling over men, something tells me that might not be what brings me salvation. i started doing the dishes after everything i made last week, instead of leaving it for later and then running out of time, i made the effort and formed the energy to do it all at once, to be old and responsible and forward thinking..or something. though then i'd sit down and watch 4 hours of heroes instead of moving. but, again, baby steps are better than non at all.

both days this weekend i got home after, or while, the sun came up, saturday morning i writhed in bed doing my best to banish all the disastrous thoughts of the evenings occurrences. removed from the actual events, it was probably no big deal, but amplified in my mind by the chemicals i may have ingested, it was all i could to not go inside my head with my bare hands and rip out the stubborn scenes that would not cease from playing behind my eyes.

it's pretty bad when even you can not control the things you think. i'm scared of spiders, and there are nights the only thing i picture is them, like the devil inside me even wants to fuck me, ruin me, sustain me from moving forward. sometimes so much goes on inside my head i marvel at the pure fact that not every one of us is fucking completely mentally insane. maybe stupid people aren't constantly a mile a minute inside their heads but sometimes i want to smash my face into a wall and hope it all stops. though i do feel a lot better when i take the steps. if only i could quash the me inside me that stops me from moving my proverbial feet.

think the 15 minutes are up?

2007-09-27T02:14:00.000-07:00

i knew this guy once who loved his wife but got hard when i sat beside him. actually i'm lying, he wasn't married, that'd paint me in too bad a light. once i told this guy i'd rather be the mistress than the trophy wife and he said "really, you'd make such a good mom". people say this, they say i'd be so good with kids, or that i am so good with kids, like this is all that matters when planning the course of your life, or not planning as my case would be.

my ex wants to take me to vegas. i want to go. mostly to drown in vodka and stumble in heels too high to wear here. and not at all because i like selling myself. not at all because i want to be desired enough to receive goods for services. that would make me like a hooker and everyone knows, from certain instances with rock stars that will go unmentioned, things that may have never even happened, that i'm not good at hooker. i'm good at teasing my hair, smoking my eyes and walking in heels naked under trench coats. it's the getting up and leaving i struggle with. not all the time, but some of the time, sometimes.

i like to run, i like that saying about wind always being at your back, i like wind and walking away. i like allowing my mind to control my fingers and forcing me to write this, this that might be true or might not, or might be part true or part false. i'd like it more if my sentences weren't so small and i had more to say about one situation instead of little spurts of semen messing up the bed.

in my old age i only get more ravenous and find the men uninterested. they're interest lasts only so little, because i give it up so quickly, though i'm not looking for much more, except in those i actually like. and those i actually like are lost on me, or me on them, and their honesty keeps me panting and i want to be the girl to help them from what they say they don't want. though we all say we don't want what we continue to chase. except for me, i want everything.

i lost my charm, or my time simply ran out, i thought it would be like one of those car racing video games, like as long as you do really well, and cross your time checks in time, you get to keep playing. like if i used the power i had and showed everyone a good time, i'd get to keep it and continue to play. but, alas, no. maybe i used it all up too quickly, maybe we're allotted a certain amount...which is bullshit cuz some don't get any and others get triple, but who knows, maybe i used it up in getting fingered in trucks and bars and on stage and off, and in the cold, and in the dark.

i've found that place i dream the ultimate life to be, where i get to spin with music and flashing lights, with sweat and bodies and overflowing happiness. every friday it is my heaven and i'm dreading the occasion that will put an end to it. because surely there will be, surely yours truly will end up falling down or showing her tits too many times for them to continue being interesting, and so will close another promiscuous year of sex and drugs and rock'n booze, just in time for winter, thank fucking god.

2007-09-17T00:57:00.000-07:00

people keep telling me to send her an email, to tell her off, to tell her exactly what i think of her and what she's done. they insinuate that i am a coward for not doing so, that if i were a strong, possibly even deserving person, i would take a stand and tell her where to go and how exactly to fucking get there. i think it would be more poignant for me to stay silent. she's shown her true colours, she's shown she's a horrible, despicable human being and i just don't think anything i can say will affect her in anyway. You have to have some conscience, some decency in your bones for something to hit you. For something to penetrate your devil eyes and black ice heart. She's proven time and time again her intelligence couldn't surpass a slugs, her ability to interact with the human species reduced to late emails and posted posters full of lies. Even her choice in a "mate" should have sent us flying to other sides of continents. I'm sure if I dedicated myself to it, and sat down at just the right time, I could write something brilliant, something that would encompass the year of my life i have wasted on her, the holes in my soul she's bled dry and the ache that continues to pain my heart. She aged me, she hurt my feet, she showed me a side of people that i fought knowing for so many years, she hit me in that one spot where i believed if you were good and if you worked hard and if you helped even those not deserving it, good could flourish. She crushed my spirit and broke my heart. In all my life, in dealing with bratty, immature, scorned men, defaming my name on corner store walls across the town i grew up in. In dealing with an abusive boyfriend who slammed me into dressers for talking to old friends, who threw plates at my head and called me horrible things for not wearing underwear. For being called every name in every book by every person that has ever existed, no one, no time, nothing compares to what this woman has made me feel. Maybe because behind all those bad things there were reasons, even if bullshit excuses, there may have been a small shred of validity, but behind this is just a cowardly cunt faced hoe bag fuck up waste of space human being.

and so what is the point of wasting any energy whatsoever on telling this person exactly how they've made me feel? for someone to be affected, for someone to show any recognition they'd have to, in the first place, be human, maybe even human with a brain, and all she's ever proven to be is a piece of shit.

I'm pissed and I'm hurt and I'm acting out like those 17 year old boys but i can't see how telling her anything, even if i made it professional and left out things like "i hate you you fucking cunt of a woman...and your retarded ogre of a piece of shit douche bag husband" would do anything. it wouldn't make me feel any better because I'd always know it never penetrated anything other than her inbox. I'd always know I'd wasted just that extra hour on words that though read, would be tossed aside like the people she sneakily kicked to the curb.

there is no point and so it would not make me feel better. what will make me feel better, aside from the place crashing and burning, is ignoring her. never letting her hear anything about me ever again. succeeding and regaining my faith in karma, in love, in true friendship, and in pity, so i can pity her her miserable life, her failure at being decent, and her, hopefully inevitable, down fall.

2007-08-29T11:26:00.001-07:00

I made the decision to clean up my life. I’d decided to stop with the partying, the booze, the drugs and the boys, and focus on the life I’ve stared blankly over water at for as long as I can remember. After 4 months of the type of ridiculous debauchery you’d expect from, only the worst, 17 year olds, I’ve severed myself from that lifestyle. Or, at least, that was the plan.

This summer, while the sun has not shone, I’ve spent many a night on blankets in the park, watching cocaine liquefy into the morning’s dew. In the past few months I’ve slept with too many men, most unworthy of anyone’s pussy, and had my ass thrown to the curb, one too many times. In desperate pleas for affection I’ve lost my head again and again and ran to shame instead of from it. All accumulating to one strung out morning, staring at the April like rain in august, where the intelligent part of me tapped ever so lightly on the fuck up part of me and asked “Is it time yet?”

But then just four days ago a bomb fell on my world when the restaurant admitted defeat and decided to shut its doors forever. Leaving my friends and I scrambling to save it. And now, 3 days later, I can not tell up from down, I do not know what would be more beneficial to me. I’d decided to give up some aspects of life and sit down and write. To write leading up to my journey and force myself to write along it, if I’m ever to do it, now would be the time. This would be the easiest way to throw myself into my masterpiece, one girl’s journey from blow to Bath! But emotional strings are tugging and I feel like I’m watching a gold mine being filled with cement, watching all that shiny yellow succumb to wasted booze and pointless mats. I’m torn. If I fight for it will it benefit me on this journey.

And the stress of it all is sending me back to drugs and drinks, I’m flooded with celebrities checking into hospitals due to addictions and all I can think is when can I get some up my nose. I want to be a better person. I want to fight, I want to be strong enough to focus and stay focused. I want to say no. I want to live the life I’m sure I have some strength to attain. And so I turn to you, paper and pain, screen and keys, save me. Lure me, help me and keep me. Make this work for us and don’t leave me, call to me to come to you in all my times of darkness.

2007-08-24T01:11:00.000-07:00

ok ok ok drunk post. wooh.

umh. ok. uhm. ok. ok. so this is my head ok ok ojiojioj k

so tonite i met up with my old twin friends, after 11 years. ive loved them since things went sour and i had to go this way and they had to go that way. they claim to not remember and i believe them. i believe them because i am the one with the morbid memory. im the one with the insane sense of how things went down and the intimate ridiculous details that would make me sound psychotic if i admitted knowing.

and anywasys iuts late and my sister is coming and i have to lcean the room for her and her dog and half alive is tomorrow and im not going because i am not doing drugs and the fuckign lion king brother (aka the face) can fucking fuck a fucking duck because really, despite how skinny and blonde some girls might be, im pretty fucking rad so what. evs. fick it. fuck it. fuCK IT.

seriously. im too old to compete with blondes. young blondes., young skinny bkoneds.

fuiiiicl/ ,o ;pm jhaha whoops i love drunk nloo FUCK i love drunk blogging. woot.

uhm...mmm. ummm oh i downsized my lip ring and am not so hapy with it. but i am happy with the boy who did it so im probs going back to try and fuck him in a parking lot cuz thats' just what i do yo. class. act. = me.

hey! it's a 12:59 lullaby.

2007-08-19T22:26:00.000-07:00

sometime between 10 a.m. and noon i decide to embrace myself and accept what i do. at 1, when i can't decide if i've slept at all, i'm not so sure.

i wonder what it would be like to have the strength to be healthy and clean and even normal. to not suck dicks in parking lots and snort rails off granite counter tops. i wonder what it would be like to have the strength to be the type of person that goes out saturday nights and has some cocktails, gets wasted even, but doesn't smoke 40 cigarettes, doesn't sit on laps or talk too loudly or too much.

and i think of the people in my life and how they can be separated into groups of those who have known me forever, who know me inside and out and have been through it all with me before. they love and accept the tips of my toes to the tops of my head, and every last strand of hair on my body. they fight tooth and nail for me, they stand in rain in alleys and go to battle...perhaps attempting to cover their own guilt, for somewhere inside them they can't agree. who knows. i feel accepted.

then there are those that know me partly and accept me only as much as someone that knows me partly can. they dont really know so they fill in the blanks with their own stories. maybe they fill in those parts with the innocent. with an angelic me. or maybe it's a nightmare what they see...either way they hold me and love me and shake their heads in non committal ways.

finally there's them that know nothing and laugh all they way round the bend at my expense. the possibility of me having it somewhat together doesnt even cross their mind. they probably even think they are playing me...or maybe at this point there is no game involved. it's such a sure thing, no thought is required.

a funny thing is, it always comes across here that i feel such a mess. i am distressed and falling apart by the minute, and while this may be some what true, i'm actually absolutely fine. inside, way down in my heart and soul, i'm fucking fantastic.

i just wish i wasn't all that interested in men. being exactly what they want, it gets tiring.

2007-08-12T14:49:00.001-07:00

"so she turned and ran..."

i am so tired. i am tired of drinking and being compelled to do so. i am tired of running from sober. i am tired of cheeseburgers and plates piling up in my room, and tired of running out of underwear. i'm tired of doing lines off insurance papers in the park, quickly before the sprinklers come on. i'm tired of my lungs, im tired of my feet. im tired of obsessions and desperation. im tired of needing my friends, fiending for them. im tired of falling down stairs and swollen ankles. im tired of spiralling out of control. im tired of loving it. i'm tired of british invasions and spending money. i'm tired of mistaking reality for dreams and dreams for reality. i'm tired of desperately seeking someone to hold me, i'm tired of whoring myself out for the possibility of a morning cuddle.

i'm tired of being your entertainment.

i'm tired of being your entertainment and then suffering the consequences when in this shallow grave i've dug, when i do not know up from down, and after days of drinking and drugs, no sleep and far too many boys, i get confused. pulled, pushed and tugged, this way and that, i am your pinball. i am tied to strings and made to dance like a puppet. poked and prodded with sticks "do this, do that, get him, he's cute", and everyone's number becomes the same, everyone's face is never the one i want and so i succumb to dreams as they play out, as you are my master...until i run.

and you scold me and never do i feel more like a child than when i am helplessly confused. inside i plead to you but.. but it doesnt matter, you dont see it as such, to you i am me and this is what i do, i ask for it, i propel it, i'd not breath without it so shut up and dance. months roll into days and weeks pass, and he calls, he texts, he doesn't, and i can't remember one thing from the next. and all i want is for one to just get it, open the door and catch me, let me lay in silence and warmth and help me. save me. because i'm running out of steam.

Outside, she in the black dress, he in the tux, he sees it before she says it. "I don't think I want to do this."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"No." She let her hands slip out of his and so the last remaining spot of a soul she'd been drinking and pissing away, slipped too. She felt it run down her legs and seep into the pavement. "I'm just so tired...tired of fucking guys...and then leaving. I'm sorry it's you, you're nice, and fun and I like you...but I'm just so fucking tired of it all."

He had no idea what she was saying, of course it didn't make any sense to him, all he knew was how far from home he was and how he'd followed a girl who was now leaving him in the parking lot of a hotel.

"Just come back with me, let's talk..."

They were all the same, different faces, different bodies, different names and places but in those simple words she knew them all too well. No one was going to hold her, no one was a good enough man to give her all she needed for such a small period of time. Even the one she thought loved her most wouldn't be capable of giving her the only thing she wanted, because he wanted something else. He would say he could, he would open the door and take her in, but soon enough he'd come to collect.

Everything seemed pathetic, most of all her, and instead of attempting to pick up that last bit of soul, that last bit of love she was sure she had for herself, she broke from his eyes and fear engulfed her....so she turned and ran....hoping it would be enough to want to change.

And the realization that it wasn't, forced her feet to move faster.

2007-08-07T01:50:00.000-07:00

where should i start?

what about with the cocaine and dancing on friday?

mm.

the wedding on saturday?

meh.

the pool, the boys, the sex and drugs and rock and roll? what about even, your booze consumption and how you notice no one else notices?

i like pina coladas.

....ok go.

well friday i danced like heaven and spun in that circle i'm always searching for. we snorted rails off cd cases in the bathroom stalls. we took too long and not once did i let it be overlooked that i was loving falling further and further down the rabbit hole. in the car we basically buried our faces in it and in the bar i drowned in gin and danced up my world. in the park late that night the sprinklers soaked us into finishing our evening, i clawed home and up the stairs to kick my feet to sleep.

what with the saturday i had coming i barely recognized myself. until i became walking sex and he says he's going to fuck me in the bathroom and she laughs and he says jokingly, mockingly, dangerously, "dont serve her any more booze" and smiles a jab right thru me. while all the while the one who is my saviour sits alone unfocused on me. later in bed while he snores, i text someone else. when youre this out of control you'd be foolish to act correctly.

when falling from grace, it's better to land on your head.

after drinking for two days the only real option to continue functioning, is to continue drinking. when living off alcohol, cigarettes and pot, you keep it coming so you can keep it going. and when the night comes, the real night, the dark, quiet and calm, with the exception of his humming engine, you run down the bricks and into his car....and 24 hours later you realize it's all a high of selfishness.

2007-08-01T00:52:00.000-07:00

i probably waited too long, and now it's all gone.

i often wonder how different men and women are. there are times i think who ever managed to put us together as such, must have had a right laugh when deciding all the complete opposite characteristics they could place us with. other times it's blindingly obvious how similar we are.

do men get all consumed like we do? do men spend hours walking dogs playing everything from before it started, to them kissing you goodbye, over in their heads. over and over? is the urge to call you back tugging at their brains? do they smack their skull in hopes of shaking free the voices saying yes and no and maybe so?

do they never have to deal with the roll of the eyes from party goers, watching them flounce around? do they never have to wonder if she or her or her or she realizes how small of a deal it is? do they ever know what it's like to get such reproachful looks, alarming glares and pathetic, pretend to be empathetic, stares.

i wonder if all the girls that hate me, actually hate me for one, and if any of them see me as someone that does what she wants without concern of what others will think. or if they truly think me, at the age of almost 30, pathetically whorish.

men are my weakness and i seem to be theirs, it all works out very well.

2007-06-21T01:57:00.001-07:00

Life has been strange.

2007-06-06T10:59:00.000-07:00

i'm not going to say i'm done because no one is ever done when they say they are, you just are when you are.

i think i'm going to go back to writing on paper, i think i do better that way, and i know no one that matters is reading, yet at least, so i dont have to censor.

i've lost track lately of where i was going or what it is i'm working towards, so much so that i actually don't know anymore. and i know i have known so i'm trying to subside the panic and calm down. life is different now, i know i've entered a new stage or phase, not the one i thought i was stepping into when i left my cave, but it's probably better this way. we are all attracted to shinny things and in this sometimes we fall off track, but maybe it's better this way. maybe if we never got distracted, maybe if we never lost our heads, never got shot down, we'd never move on. and so things may not be what you'd thought, but atleast now you have something to use.

and so i will pick up off the floor everything including myself, i will clean and read and write, and dance in rain and smile in sun and get back to what i know.

i'll go back to being ok. and continue to wrestle my self destruction, because something good always comes out of anything, and i was lucky to find it right at the start.

i'll probably just be posting pictures here, maybe, maybe not, who knows. i was never really a blogger anyways, i just wanted in with the cool kids and now im lucky enough to have made real good friends out of it. and to have experienced it, and to have written for people to actually read. so thanks to everyone who has read and everyone who has said nice things, and thanks to those who have read and know they shouldn't have, for never letting me know, and still being my friend.

2007-05-28T22:26:00.001-07:00

men. i love them so much i hate them. like actually despise them. so much so i want to actually physically beat myself up over it. fucking men.

i love them so much, it destroys every great aspect of me. every independent, smart, confident bone in my body is broken the second i realize ive been talking to one of them for 3 days straight and want to actually continue.

and im starting to wonder if they all take a course at a certain age, or if they are brainwashed in their little incubators when they are born. sweet little babies all snuggled up, learning exactly how to fuck it all up.

like they know exactly what to do and when to do it so you end up thinking you actually even like them more than you do because they decide just at the right moment to disappear. and all of a sudden you are like "...." checking your phone, sending out a text you promised yourself you wouldn't send and slowly starting to lose it. and once in awhile, in between the "what the fuck is going on"'s and the checking of the phone and the over analyzing every second of your life for the past week, you realize "wait. im not even sure i actually LIKE HIM." but now you do. now you are sure you do, now you are sure what swept you away was the biggest deal of your life and the life you'd pictured crumbles before your very eyes. the house falls apart, the barefoot summer turns to rocks and broken glass, late summer nights of giggles on bleachers fade to lonely nights at home. and still you remind yourself you started to lose it before this. before they decided to back off, before they decided to play the game they said they'd never play, you wanted to back off. you wanted to go home that night instead of listening to the snores, you're the owner of the heart that raced when the other one came into work. but now youre trapped worrying what the hell and wondering why you care.

and it's just what you were scared of because you know youre over reacting, you KNOW youre being so fucking ridiculous and pathetic but worst of fucking all you KNEW it was coming. you were waiting for it.

and there are only two options, smile and fall when the phone finally rings or find some sort of barricade.

edited yo

2007-05-26T00:36:00.000-07:00

this is where she gets scared.

it's always so simple and fast, the beginning of it to the actuality of it, it's quite quick and unanticipated. not to search for it really makes it so much better, so unexpected you get fused with a powerful confusion. like, not knowing where it came from or where it hit. it's like an overwhelming cloud surrounds you and inside it you smile, a little secret you have inside, something you know. but in realizing you know, you realize what it means.

the quicker the scarier. i dont know. maybe the quicker the harder it is to trust, but i suppose nothing is all that easy to trust.

and time has gone by so many times, years pass and it's better this way. we seem to be born again, new life takes form when all the pieces finally fall. you crumble slowly, over time, and eventually the layer is shed, sometimes with new hair, and you can pinpoint the day your new life began.

you march up to a boy you blew off months before, tap him on the shoulder, spin him round and say hello. the first life after many. you sit in a doorway far from home, and below the street light someone takes your hand, and so it starts, another life again. you get called back to work and sip long island ice teas, make new friends, breathing new life into an old you, breaking a cycle and finally waking up. and all the stuff in between is just the start or the finishing parts.

and even if there is no boy, (even if!), you still get reborn, you know you're somewhere new.

shed some light on it please

2007-05-18T10:11:00.001-07:00

I had a sex dream about a guy at work, pretty much the only guy at work. It's the second one. He's like 19. Pretty cute. It's not like I fantasize about him or think about him in any way other than the way it is.

This morning though it felt like we'd spent the night together. I was glad he worked away from me because no matter what I tried I couldn't shake it off.

We were having an affair and part of the dream was scary, so I woke up feeling comforted. I think that's what crossed the line.

It's really interesting I find myself going such long periods without love or sex or men. I suppose the order I put that in is significant. Freudian slip of importance. I don't know. I don't think it's hard to find men, a man, a relationship, partnership. I just think it's hard to want to find it. Maybe.

I'm craving it, but I think the problem is I don't want anything for forever, so it limits options or possibilities or opportunities. Maybe? After each of my serious long term relationships, there has always been a break, with no end set, someone just comes and it works and I go.

Maybe it's just the sex I'm wanting. But consistent sex, I dont just want to fuck some douche after way too many drinks. I mean I want that but I want to fuck him again in the morning and the next hungover night. Maybe. I can never know anything, I can never make up my mind, one minute I'm thinking about a penis inside me and feeling comfort, the next my bed and book providing too much.

I am so desperate for something new, something close to home, something somewhere to spend the summer nights. A different bed, a different blanket of arms, an ocean of flesh to swim in, other than my own.

I'm craving someone to love me. I'm like an addict who's gone too long without a fix.

here's hoping it's as easy as getting new hair

2007-05-15T01:53:00.000-07:00

it's quite a bit lighter, harder to tell in these pics, but it is. i was expecting something a little more gradual but i love it all the same. it's too soon to say i feel reborn but damn i feel good. it's probably been 4 years or so since ive had this much bleach in my hair and ive never been happier for some breakage. i realize no man will get this, and probably alot of women, but i feel like my new york life is over. or that chapter is closed and now it's time to fucking move on.

the year before i decided to move to the states i was depressed. i was fat, had recently gone from blond to black and had had a health scare that sort of sent the downward spiral into play. when i decided i had to move, i took everything into consideration, money being the main concern i looked at all the aspects of life that needed to be maintained with money and decided going dark and stocking up on colour from the salon i worked part time at, would be the best bet as far as my recently murdered hair went. 6-48. it was also the first time i put any red in it, pre cocaine lohan. either way 4 years i put dark on top of dark just to maintain (except for a couple highlights last summer before my best friends wedding). not since i was probably 12 have i had strictly dark hair for such a long period of time.

once i had a mental breakdown after leaving a molson indy party because my boyfriend was a loser, the next day i went blond. first time in my life. went to my hair dressers and said cut it and make me blond. that was the summer i won my first and only wet t-shirt contest. lives work in phases and some of these lives go with hair.

i can't explain how good i feel. i dont even care if it looks that good, i'm just ecstatic to be on the brink of my new life!

2007-05-13T00:29:00.000-07:00

i almost just took site meter off but i like that i have this part of me. i like that i have this, i have a part of me that no one else has. i have to say i love people in my life, there are people that have quite literally kept me alive, people that without them who the hell knows where or who i'd be. but i dont know what i'd do without these other people. the people i can go to at the end of a night, at the end of what feels like guilt splinters, and be held and understood. it's so strange, you'd think people that had known you your whole life would know you best, comfort you best, understand and welcome you the most, but it's really not that way. it's never that way. whether ulterior motives come into play, or just pure personal faults, or that i'm wrong, something makes loves of a lifetime say you're wrong. say "what the fuck do you have to be upset about?"

and you get sick of trying to explain because as willing as you are to accept that you may be wrong, there is still that part that remains true to you that knows you aren't. that knows no matter what, what you feel is what you feel, right or wrong, valid or not, no one has any right to point that finger and say "you are wrong to feel that."

inside my head i scream fuck you and on the drive home i drive into street lights and beg to be reborn, reborn alone, to walk alone to live alone to be alone and understood. accepted. and not punished to find comfort in new people, people that understand mental illness. it's as simple as that. whether i suffer from depression, whether i have, whether im capable of, whether i am or will or what not, just someone that understands the possibility of it, other than just the words i understand but...

i just dont want to be laughed at anymore, i just dont want to be shunned. i just want to be me, here, there, and everywhere.

2007-05-11T23:37:00.000-07:00

the other day i was thinking about it and i realized that i could completely understand britney spears shaving her head. it's like a post i posted a few weeks ago, about wanting to delete everything, erase anything that was and start fresh. it's probably the same feeling as wanting to jump out your window. something, anything, anything to fucking fix whatever it is that keeps playing and skipping. anything to fucking shake it up and off and crawl out of this skin.

i get so scared lately, scared i'll never lose the weight, scared i'll never find motivation to do the only thing i've ever wanted to do. i'm scared i'm about to fall back into numbing depression, scared i'm going to spend the next 3 months, 2 weeks, 4 days doing nothing other than waking up, going to work, coming home and going to sleep. scared i'm going to start clawing at my skin like i'm on drugs, digging out my insides just to end whatever it is that's continuing.

imagine being something great, loved by all who were able to know anything about you, revered, cherished, admired, by everyone who thought they knew everything about you, everything that was best for you. imagine getting so used to it that it replaced anything else you ever knew so you fell back on appearance, fell back on entitlement. and then imagine getting tired and wanting to be rid of it, wanting to rip at yourself and tear it all out, jump thru the glass and fly alone for just a few seconds, hitting ground and the pain, exquisite pain of feeling something so strong you'd remember for days that you were alive because of the physical pain you couldn't brush off. i would assume for her so much of it rest in her beauty, or perceived beauty, it probably felt like bugs crawling under her skin, people making her dirty. and the only cleanse she could find at that time was the desperate urge to do something, anything, to fix it. so she shaved it off, maybe thinking it would fix it, it would calm it, it would send it all away and she could start again.

i dont know where im at or whats going on or whats wrong even, i'm just tired. i'm so fucking tired and i just want to DO something. i want to be able to do something. i want to want it from inside and not just on this infuriating surface.

ha ha HA

2007-05-06T02:10:00.002-07:00

Couple things about this video. I have absolutely no recollection of this taking place, even after watching it and thinking about every single thing that happened last night, I have no clue where this came from. I almost don't believe it's real. Also it would explain my super raspy destroyed voice this morning. If this is how I was talking all night I'm happy everyone was as loaded as me.

Someone please tell me if I say "I think he's gay" at the very end. Cuz that would probably be the funniest thing I've ever done, and I'm pretty funny.

2007-05-03T01:16:00.001-07:00

depression is such a funny thing, it's so trivial.

you can sit here and think of all the other people in the world with real problems, all the people suffering, through things for years you wouldn't survive for seconds. and yet still feel as though there is absolutely nothing you can do to wake up.

it's like this black cloud that you don't see coming. even though it's this giant, ominous, dark, heavy fucking cloud barrelling down on you, you never notice it until it's choking you. until you can't breath and you find yourself gasping for breath and trembling from fear.

how will you get out?

maybe when we kick ourselves into that extra overrated gear, and propel ourselves up the hill, we don't notice the somersaults that bring us back to the bottom, through the trap door, into the dark basement. the black fucking cloud.

and through laziness all the shit piles up, you push it to the side watching the pile grow and turn the other way, but really it's just building to fall. and it always falls right down on you and i suppose that could be the black cloud, the life you've been ignoring.

i dont know. tonite for the first time in god damn fucking 4 years i felt what i felt 4 years ago at this exact time. despair. there are always ups and downs and even at my lowest lows, heartbreaking love, death, killing myself away from home in a city starving for blood, i never felt what i felt tonite.

you'd think it would all be enough to motivate you into action, but that's the thing with depression. once you're there, the thought of moving's paralyzing.

2007-04-27T00:41:00.000-07:00

This job is sucking the life right out of me.

This morning I was late and I didn't care, I seriously could not have cared less. My exact attitude, as I crossed the wet grass in my broken boots, was "Why should I care when she so completely doesn't?"

I felt hungover, which for a change I wasn't, and grumbled my way to unlock the door to hell. Behind the counter Elle greeted me with a grunt which relieved me of any pressure to put on a happy face.

"Yep. Pretty much." Is all I said as I walked past to lock myself in the awful bathroom and admire how shitty I looked.

"You guys go out last night?" The boss tries to make cheerful small talk.

"Oh no-" and in my head I think I want to die, how could I ever go out "I just came by to have a smoke."

"Oh, you just look a little ragged."

No shit, can't imagine why.

Back in the front I didn't do anything, except curse Michelle for not finishing her close properly the night before. I felt like a slug, I was working in slow motion, every last bit of desire drained from me slowly, painfully.

"I am slow mo today."

"Me too." Elle said and we worked our separate ways for a bit, in silence. I thought of the laughs we had yesterday, how hard it was to summon the same energy day in day out.

Later when the boss had stepped out we lit the torches and threw the daggers and Mel went off. "She doesn't care! She laughs, she literally says 'I don't care' and laughs and walks away. She doesn't care that she is ruining our lives, she doesn't care that every single person here is more than unhappy. I mean it's completely morbid, every single one of us spends most of the day wishing we weren't even alive so we didn't have to continue holding this place up, while the fucking owner rips it down. It's just too fucked up."

"And I'm starting to be really mean to people, I'm taking it out on the customers, I am rude to every single person that walks in here and that fucking sucks."

"YES! And you go home feeling like shit because you've spent the whole day being a fucking cunt. And you think 'this isn't me'."

The three of us stare off into our own abyss and sigh "yep."

After the rush Elle and I cleared table 4, she took the plates and I took the cups, and reduced to childlike humour to keep ourselves alive, I playfully say "Thanks ALOT for taking my plates. Bitch." She laughs and backs into the door, "Fine, be like that, I'm leaving" and her and her tray head out the door. She pauses long enough for me to say "Well, you know I'd have to come looking for you!" And we laugh.

Because the best thing in our lives is the thought of walking out that door.