Hear Here!

him: you know, you are probably the girl I have talked to the longest without ever really discussing sex
him: especially online
her: i'll take that as a compliment.
him: I would.
him: it means something else has kept my interest.
him: lol
her: i've heard that's a rarity.
him: about me or about men?
her: a rarity that something else holds a man's interest
her: in regards to women
him: well, sex is often present, but not necessarily at the forefront
him: often probably equals always
him: lol.
him: still, conversations typically turn to sex, especially late at night. thus far with you they have not, and i have not missed it really.
her: hear hear!
her: or is it here here?
him: no idea

Not Much. But a Start.

I can't finish stories.
I only seem to be able to start them.

Once upon a time...
But these words...
They aren’t even mine


So I’m wondering which one of us should start the piece. I see the value in starting with a silent dance, a simple drumbeat or guitar chord progression, just an image on a slide projector or even some acapella singing.

My grammar skills are lacking.
Calling my vocabulary my vernacular would instill false hopes.
I still look at the key board when I type.
My manuscripts are covered in more red ink than black.


Linking this all together with the underlying theme. The struggles... both inward and outward of an artist. A creater. A dreamer. We need a hook. A top 40's bullshit hook.

art doesn't express who we are.
art is who we are.

imperfect, lacking and hopeful.

When in Doubt... Get Someone Else to Make You Write.

write me one sentence about what you are feeling this instant. just one. however you want it conveyed.

i am frustrated that at the most productive and magical points in my life, i can't seem to sit still enough to reflect and write about all i am going through... and the knowledge that all of these amazing pieces of writing are slipping through my fingers almost makes me wish that my life would slow down so my words could keep up.

so, now in once sentence tell me what made you use the word magical.

i think there is so much of it around and inside of us and so few people in so few moments notice it... every time i get a chill or a shit eating grin or start to giggle OR cry uncontrollably or feel a change in myself i try to make a note of not only acknowledgement but appreciation.

now what changes in yourself are you thinking of?

i can feel my heart growing.

care to explain that sentence?

i'm in such better shape. feeling my heart pump throughout my body is something i never REALLY took the time to reflect on. i was always concentrated on the activity i was doing that caused the pumping.

but when im alone on a machine or on the mat... all i can hear and feel is my heart.

and now it's everywhere. i feel it beyond my body. beyond the sweat. beyond the dancing, laughing or loving. i've never felt this way before.

Resurfacing...

I have decided not to go through with the Myers Briggs Qualification Workshop this month. I was going to drop the $1100 with no qualms, but have since re-prioritized my financial and professional situation.

My creative block has taken the physical form of my mother's house. I need to move out as SOON as my prospective roommates give me the word. That money will be key in my growing roots for the next year... and establishing a place and platform for my projects.

Because there is no direct feed from this workshop into steady work (or even unsteady, for that matter), I should put it off until my networking has put me in a place where the skills will be utilized.

Maybe after colorguard season is over. Or winterguard. Sigh.

"I've always wanted on of those."

a·nom·a·ly
n. pl. a·nom·a·lies

1. Deviation or departure from the normal or common order, form, or rule.
2. One that is peculiar, irregular, abnormal, or difficult to classify.

This is NO Time For Yo Momma Jokes.

Let's just get this out of the way real quick. My mother and I do not have the relationship that I wish we did. To try and explain it simply and without any biased romanticism, we just operate on different planes.

While this obvious, gaping distance between us has put a strain on my living situation (especially in this past year), there are certain things that just make all of it inconsequential.

My mother is the dreamer. The reader. She is the arts and crafts. The stationary and matching wrapping paper. She is the theater enthusiast. The sports fanatic. She is all of the family tradition and tireless work ethic.

My living, breathing reminder that dreams can only get you so far. That in order to live the way you desire you have to put in the effort to change. To grow. To challenge yourself.

Thank you, Mom. For the things you'll never know and never do.
I promise you... I'll do them for the both of us.

Leaving Things Unsaid

I can assure you, no one is more painfully aware of the recent drop in my post production than I am. The worst part is that it is my own, conscious doing. Censoring my writing already. Hiding parts of my life.


... and it only took me 3 months to get here this time.

Cryptic is an adjective I aspire to be on a daily basis, but this is just lying by omission. Waiting for someone to call me out. To look me in the eye and command me, through clenched teeth, to type up the fucking words and stop being such a chicken shit.

Status Report: Not So Sick Anymore

... so much so, infact, that I even fucked your mother last night.

Happy Cinco De Mayo: Now Go Piss In This Cup.

I want to write something. I want to share everything that has been going on. But every time I sit down and try to get it all out... something seems to stop me. No. That's a lie. Not something. It's a particular thing. I'm fucking embarrassed.

See... I'm sick again. My fever came back and spiked 103 degrees this time. I went to the doctor's today (finally), and she reamed me a new one for putting it off. Because I didn't get my UTI treated earlier, my kidneys are now infected. She put me on this uber-antibiotic, so fingers crossed I'll get better. At least I got this hot Spiderman Band-Aid out of the whole deal.

The cold flashes and head aches that I have been getting are like nothing I've ever experienced before. I can remember friends of mine telling me about anxiety attacks and migranes... but I never really believed that they could be as severely crippled by pain as they described. Obviously, my opinion on the matter has changed.

Over-worked doesn't even begin to describe my current state of being. I'm working 10 hour days and putting work-out sessions in-between jobs. Not a smart move for someone with a bungee chord fever. Seems as though I learned the "in moderation" rule a little too late.

I've been stubborn. With Grey gone and my new motivation to live healthier, I jumped head-first into a totally different lifestyle and schedule, and didn't give my immune system (or my brain) any time to adjust. I just feel stupid. And mad at myself.

Because my fever got so high again last night, I had to cancel on a wedding date I had for this evening, and miss out on a house/cat-sitting job I had for this weekend. I also have no idea if I will be able to work the closing shift at the pub tomorrow night that my boss desperately needs me to cover, or actively participate in my softball team's practice on sunday.

The burst of positive energy that I felt last week has been flushed down the toilet. All I can do is wait for my body to get better... and hope that the world will still have things for me to do. Until then, my goal is to distract my brain from throwing yet another pity party with cheesy romantic comedies.

Vaginal Secretions (or lack thereof).

starz: i havent masturbated since the last time dave and i had sex
starz: the 21st of april
starz: i cant think about sex
starz: it makes me want to vomit
INFP: i had the exact same phenomenon after my worst breakup too
INFP: i didn't even want to get CLOSE to a guy, like i was afraid they were bad emotional luck
starz: i feel ugly.
starz: i dont want to think about myself in a sexual position
starz: because that grosses me out
starz: i see myself as some fat gross thing that was pity fucked for the last 4 months
INFP: but you weren't pity fucked
starz: its how i feel though
INFP: he wouldn't have had sex with you if he didn't find you attractive, he wouldn't have been able to get it up
starz: self deprecation is kicking my ass harder than anything else ever has before
INFP: *hug*