Boondox: December 2007

WHAT a freaking dork!

The Holiday Continues...

When you are going 3,000 miles an hour, it really hurts when you stop. I crashed so hard today... and it was glorious.

My boss was kind enough to let me work from home, presenting 2 hours extra sleep and prolonged pajama wearing. In fact, I was only dressed for an hour today, and all I did was throw on jeans and walk next door to eat pizza with Laura.

After work, Boondocks and I cat napped for a couple hours (with the window open!), so we could fall asleep to the sound of the rain and Dave Matthews Band's Crash. If you have not heard a saxophone in the rain before, you need to get on that.

This Christmas has been nothing short of perfect. I am so grateful for it. But allow me to get back to bed... I've gotta work, pack and buy a dress tomorrow. Something tells me that I really am going to need a vacation to recover from my vacation.

2008 might have to begin with a day spent in bed watching movies... and I am totally ok with that.

The Holiday Begins...

I am pleasantly surprised to find myself blogging again because I slept for 3/4 of our road trip today, celebrated evening coffee shopping with my brother and had a cup of tea with the ladies tonight. Caffeine might just be the devil, but I am overlooking it in this instance because of this seemingly rare (as of the last 3 years) surge of creativity flooding my system.

There are so many reasons why I know that this is already going to be the best holiday ever... and well. Here's a list:

* There is snow everywhere. Your warm, smoky breath sparkles in the cold air against the Christmas lights. Santa even drove by earlier on a fire truck. It's fucking Christmas... and you can tell.

* At the rest stop today, I found Haribo Raspberries. I ate them all before we got out of New York.

* The Christmas tree looks like it belongs in a magazine.


* There are a pair of four month old puppies asleep at my feet.

* My cousins have all the premium channels. And On Demand. After everyone else crashed, I watched The Holiday and cried 3 times. In a good way.

* Earlier today, I wrapped a box of pasta with duct tape.


* I am about to go fall asleep reading Harry Potter... and not have an alarm set.

* The fact that this post reeks of cheesy, holiday spirit makes me swell with pride instead of feel guilty about not being 'edgy' enough. I am so freaking excited that this Christmas is mine... and I'm spending it exactly the way I want to.

A New Home For The Holidays...

2007 is going out with a fucking bang, kids.

Tomorrow is my Dad's 69th burfday, and yeah, he already made the sex joke. I don't really know how I feel about my father still being a pimp, but hey. Mike and I are taking him out to Vasilies to celebrate and this will be the first Dad and the kids dinner we've had in months.

Unfortunately, some bittersweet undertones are already present because the night is doubling as a goodbye. On Friday, in the wee hours of the morning, Mommi, Mike and I are hittin' the road. For the first time in my life... I am celebrating Christmas in Connecticut.

My Mom's side of the family has some deeply rooted attachment up there, and I cannot wait to see what it looks like covered in snow! We usually just go up in the summer, but as my relationships with all of my cousins (two of them in particular) have grown, so has the pull to be up there more often. That was cemented earlier this month when my Uncle Rich passed away and everyone came down here for the services.

I am so lucky to have this opportunity at this point in my life. I get to go up and spend the weekend with the extended fam, drive back and catch midnight mass with Daddi on Christmas Eve, have presents and brunch at Mom's and then go to my aunt's for dinner. Two days later, I'm catchin' a plane to Pittsburgh for my good friend Justin's sister's wedding. But don't worry... I'll be back in time for New Years. Which will kick ass, by the way. As soon as I figure out what the hell I'm doing. It's going to be a fast, wild ride full of people I love and I need it.

The past few months have just been really hard on me. It seems like life always travels in waves, and I like 'em big... so I can't really expect the bad ones to go easy. But I have been blessed -- in ways that I had taken for granted -- and without the recent events, I may never have realized it.

I cannot wait to live the shit out of these next two weeks. I want to look back on 2007 and say that it was the start of something big. I hope to see some of you along the way... if you can keep up, of course.

Face!

So yesterday, December 10th, I was at winterguard rehearsal. Laura was running a new waterfall toss, and I was learning it along with the girls. We were only working a 3/4 rotation, and when I first went for a full 360, I fumbled my right hand and decided to catch my flagpole with my face. Almost immediately, a huge red bump swelled next to my left eye (see pic to the right).

Today, the swelling has gone down, but the bruising has begun. It almost looks like I got a little carried away with the purple eyeshadow. And, no... I didn't wear that shirt thinking it would match (see pic to the left).

I feel a little stupid because I don't think I've ever suffered from a colorguard injury this noticeable before... even when I was a beginner. I really hope it doesn't scare my kids away-- especially after last week, when one of the girls hit her nose doing a horizontal toss and bled all the way down the hallway to the bathroom. Seriously, what are the chances?

Maybe this is a reminder to me that we still make mistakes no matter how seasoned we get. And that the pain is always worth the battle scar.

Sorry I Have Been MIA...

... but my family and I have been busy celebrating the life of my Uncle Rich.

 

Those Bud's were for you, Boss.

Boondox: November 2007

Egad! Look at all of that dirty laundry!

Boondox: October 2007

If Booner had a Myspace page, this would be his profile picture.

No.

No.
I’m not okay.
And no.
I don’t want to talk about it.

Because talking…
Does nothing…
But remind me
How fucked I am.

Boondox: July 2007

both legs. so unnecessary.

My cat likes my roommate better than me.

And it really makes me want to cry.

Before & After: a hypothetical

This is a very life-like simpson version of yours truly (created by lori). She even got my huge nose and forced smile right!

After band camp, however, I will look like this:


Notice the sunburn, the smirk, the black pants to give off a slimmer look, and oh yeah...

The hair is comin' OFF!

Now quick, go to the website and make your own!!

What I Miss The Most...

The best part about our friendship was that I was never afraid to get my hopes up. To expect something big. Something good. Because our friendship was the only thing that never seemed to come up short. Or disappoint.

With you there was no fear of failure.

Because when we were together... there was no way in hell either one of us would let the other fail.

Boondox: May 2007

the ever-popular, overly-used "just hangin' out" pose

Scratch & Dent Dreams

... made of peanut butter ice cream.

I Must Be Getting Old

Because I have quite a few fights that I keep backing away from. Not because I don't believe in what I have to say, or that I couldn't win the fight if I would just put in the effort. But because I don't want to bother putting in the effort anymore. I don't want to work my ass off for these bullshit, trivial issues. I don't want to put my blood, sweat and tears into something that really, doesn't mean a damn thing in the grand scheme of things.

I am being taken advantage of. I am being mistreated. I am being under appreciated. And I am tired of it. But instead of trying to change the situations, I am just going to remove myself from them.

I need to be the change I wish to see in the world. I can no longer stand by and support systems I just don't believe in. No matter how good it might look on my resume, or how many people may like me for it.

Working for people who are not good at being in charge is probably the most unhealthy thing I have ever experienced in my entire life. I used to never question authority. But now I feel like I have no choice. From now on it is incompetent until proven otherwise.

In other words, I quit.

Yeah...

So I took this at the Hard Rock Cafe in New York last week.
It reminded me of how I kinda, sorta miss his face.
A lot.

I know. I'm annoying.

So some of you have been awesome to link the new site, but you kept the title of the link "starz" or "Among Starz." That kind of blows my cover. If you could change it to LizziB or Bwerd I'd really appreciate it.

onewerd developments.

i know that most of you frequent the site. in fact, it could be the only reason you are reading THIS site.

if you are anything like me, you have been frustrated with the lack of consistency in the appearance of new words. and well, i am proud to announce that things will be a changing!

brian has given me the power to upload new words, and i will be taking full advantage of this.

so i hope to see you all onewording more often!!

...

i am very torn about what to do with scattered. part of me wants to keep it going and keep writing entries as starz as well as LizziB. but the other part of me just wants to end it now, and focus on LizziB. any thoughts from the other authors?

If You Can See This

... it means that you have accepted my private invite to continue reading this blog. That, in turn, means that you kick ass.

Some of you already know that I have toyed around with different alias and websites before, and I understand if you are a bit skeptical. Too be honest, I am too. I have no idea if this other site is going to work. But the bottom line is that I've got to try. So please, if you do end up reading anything over there that inspires you to comment, don't hint that you know me in real life or of this other alias/site.

I appreciate it SO much... karma and I will hit you back, fo' sho'.

When You Miss the Boat...

you go ahead and build your own. We'll see how it goes.

Because I am turning my focus to the other site, this one is going private. Please, send me an email so I can invite you all in. I will keep posting anything that I do not want to associate with my new alias, or that I don't think is ready (so you can help me edit it) here.

Also, please remove any links you have to Among Starz. And I'd appreciate any you add for the new site.

Envious Inspiration

Girl at Play

SARK

exploding dog

dooce

1,000 journals

PostSecret

FOUND Magazine

way-finding

It's tough figuring out what you want to be when you grow up...
and then feeling like you already missed the boat.

Boondox: March 2007

bat cat?

That Lollipop Doesn't Lie.

Scatterbrained.

As much as I hate to move the glorious toilet down from the top of the page, my job today leaves me with plenty of time on the internet. While I begin this post without any real purpose or direction, I need to get myself back into the habit.

Practice.

So I guess I'll start with some small talk.

Yesterday I went grocery shopping. I bought an oversized bottle of Arizona Green Tea. Unfortunately, they are unable to find a picture of this item at this time. Nonetheless, I really dig this stuff. I hope it goes on sale more often.

Speaking of which, I have become a coupon cutter. So far, this hopefully new habit will let me eat at subway and quiznos over the next week or so, with a significant monetary discount.

Ok. Enough with the small talk.

What I should be doing is finishing up a letter to the editor I am writing in response to an article published in a school paper, and getting together my submissions to 2 different publications. But I'm not because I'm scared.

Part of me wants to put my rough drafts up on this page, but I don't know if that will piss off the publications. Part of me wants to link to the articles I am writing, but I don't know if I want to make my full name public to all of you.

This is hard, walking the line between personal journal and professional writing platform. Because what I'm writing is, in my opinion, no way professional. But I worry about my reputation effecting my other professions...

Should I write under a real pen name? Or should I make an example of myself. I know that I could benefit from my regular readers' feedback... but but but!!

I don't know what I want this blog to be. I feel like the "journey to a creative career" thing has been done to death already, but I don't know what else I could honestly offer the blogging world.

Some of you may think that I am blogging about this to avoid writing about something more important, but when it comes down to it, I think this might be the most important issue I've got.

I really need your thoughts on this one.

Happy Day After St. Patrick's Day...

With a toilet full of vomit and shit!!

Fear The Turtles: #1

So I accidentally started this project last summer (June '06) on my way to the Jersey Shore. At the Chesapeake Bay House rest stop, I noticed a statue that had an uncanny resemblance to this guy I had on my shirt (please forgive my knobby knees)...

Diamonds of the Chesapeake
Since then, I started to notice several of these little guys scattered about my neighborhood. I don't know why it took me song long to get curious about why there were so many of them, but it's really better late than never.

Stumbling upon the Official Website, I see that there are 50 terrapins spread throughout the state.

Let's see how many of them I can find.

Break. Fast!

So my brother is allergic to almonds. His throat gets all swollen and nasty and he has trouble breathing. And because I don't really want him to die... when he gave me this box of cereal that he bought by accident, I gladly took it off his hands. The fact that my food budget is $50 a week has no bearing on my willingness to accept aforementioned free food.

Anyway. I had my first bowl of Kashi's GOLEAN Crunch! (make sure you switch it to the Honey Almond Flax flavor) this morning, and well... it wasn't half bad.

But can someone please explain to me what the hell 500mg Omega-3s means...

and WHY this stuff is making me fart. SO. MUCH.

Maybe It's Time...

Force-fed Inspiration:

"Do it everyday for a while," my father kept saying. "Do it as you would do scales on the piano. Do it by prearrangement with yourself. Do it as a debt of honor. And make a commitment to finishing things."

I don't even get through the introduction of "Bird by Bird" without it knocking me on my ass.

This quote can be applied to anything, really. Just within colorguard alone, I have pushed myself to perform the same tasks over and over again until they become natural. Until I get good. I started my daily ritual of organizing my meals, going to the gym and dance classes all the time, flossing, cleaning my apartment...

WHY have I not applied this principle to my writing?

Why do I keep coming back to this idea that writing should be easy and magical and not forced?

Currently Reading #6: Bird by Bird

I'm really excited at how fast I am reading these books. Chokewas just incredible. My newest favorite supporting character ever.

Next up is a book on life and writing that I started in 2006, but only got through the first 50 pages of. I am rereading them, and taking her suggestions to heart. My project to read as many novels as I can this year needs to push my writing. Wish me luck.

Dental Damn.

Does anyone know anyone willing to give me legal advice about my current situation with my teeth?

I have been going to the same dentist my entire life. He stopped taking my insurance, so I switched. New dentist found a whole bunch of things that the old dentist missed, as well as decay underneath work that the old dentist did.

I have spent a lot of money on my teeth over the last 5 years or so, and am now going to have to spend more fixing problems that should have been caught way before this.

Should I take legal action? How do I go about doing that? What will I need to prove that he had been negligent?

This sucks so bad.

Today I listened to a high school student turn Yellow Card's "Only One" into the most beautiful piano piece.

I wanted to cry. But I didn't because the kids would think me a pussy.

Be Careful What You Wish For...

I may just get my dream job. And have it be the worst financial and logistical decision I ever make.

Fuck dreams.

Currently Reading #5: Choke

Next up for me is another Chuck Palahniuk book. Not only am I prepared to be grossed out, but I am prepared to hate the world even more.

So, uhh...

I think I just got a job as a freelance journalist for a rinky-dink city newspaper.

Pinch me!!

The Staple Shot

Everyone has one. The shot that you order by default. The shot that runs through your veins because you've taken so much of it. The shot that says something about you- you in drink form. The shot that you wear on your sleeve and down the front of your shirt.

And for the past four years, I have taken the easy way out. The lame, unimaginative, and painfully expected Red Headed Slut. While this may have helped my game back in the day, I no longer resort to stereotypical assumptions to get men to desire me.

So I bid a fond farewell to the Red Headed Slut... and a fine and fancy hello to the Red Snapper!

Red Headed Slut
Ingredients:
* 1 1/2 oz Jägermeister
* 1 1/2 oz Peach schnapps
* Fill with Cranberry juice

Mixing instructions:
Mix in shot glass. Shoot.

Red Snapper
Ingredients:
* 1 shot Crown Royal
* 1 shot Amaretto
* 1 shot Cranberry juice

Mixing instructions:
One shot each. Shake n' shoot.

My Brother, While an Asshole, Is Awesome.

I mean, just look at this mixed media journal cover he designed and made for me:


The graffiti writing is hard to read, but if you look hard enough, you can see that it says "dreaming among the starz."

The question is now, can I fill the inside with something as pretty as the outside?

VD 2007

sitting here, stuck
on this sickle cell snow day
no reason to celebrate
and no one around to play

yeah, i have a valentine
but he's off on his own
still feels single, solo, a thin-mint line
i walk alone and i should have known

this is how it needs to be
for me
this is how i create
this isn't really all a mistake

these scattered, broken pieces of me.
thrown about the sky
these starry, teary eyes
mine. mine.

always mine.

If Someone Wrote A Song About You...

What would it say?

I'm happy to report, a little something like this:

well in the perfect world
you'd be the perfect girl
yeah, you'll always be mine

but in this shady world
i don't need a sunlit girl
well, i won't be the one to waste your time

And here all this time I thought it didn't work out because he thought I was too young.

Listen to it yourselves, you myspacers: don bosse.
It's the one called "Lizzy Starz."

Happy heart day, you hopeless, romantic fucks.

Currently Reading #4: How We Are Hungry

Screw this. No more huge life lessons shoved down my throat. No more gay and lesbian culture teaching me about understanding and acceptance. No more edgy classics that are supposed to inspire me to write well. My boyfriend is out of town the entire week of valentine's day having fun with his friends before he starts his new job and I am stuck here subbing all week at a middle school, going to the dentist and listening to what few friends I have left bitch about how "at least you have a valentine," and I'm just going to read a god damned piece of chick lit shit that will let me be self indulgent and wallow in my fairytale self pity.

Two chapters into this thing and I realize...I was horribly, horribly mistaken.

This book is NOT a light and fluffy romantic comedy turned novel. It's a self help book in disguise.

So I have fallen victim to the multiplebooksatthesametime trap. I'm not going to stop reading this book, but I need something to even it out.

It's perfect: a collection of short stories. The imagery is beautiful and this guy is actually subtle in the messages he tries to send in between the lines of his words.

I'm going to be able to handle this. I can multi-task like no other. Really.

not work.

my head is hurting now.
for someone who rarely gets headaches.
this one has lasted a week so far.

i'm broke.
and had to take my cat to the vet tonight.
officially.
i would hate credit cards.
if they weren't my life line right now.

finally.
made my dentist appointment for next week.
the tooth aches.
indicative.
of the deeper debt.
i will drill myself into.

the way this world works.
is making it.
impossible.
for me to make my dreams.
work.

Boondox: February 2007

he wubs his mommi

I'm Not Even Safe @ The Gym.

I don't care that your New Years Resolution is to lose weight, you twelve pound, high school cheerleading, Asian piece of jail bait: Do NOT fucking invade my hip hop class!

Put some god damn clothes on, keep your lame-ass comments to yourself and stop stepping on my mother fucking fingers!

Good Lord...

I need to remember to put a cool-down stretch session at the end of 6-hours of rehearsal.

Now, someone go find a saw and cut off my legs so they'll stop hurting.

3 Behaviors/Characteristics I Want To Get Rid Of:

1. I need to stop making projects out of people. Stop trying to fix them. I let people with serious issues get attached to me and yet, somehow I always end up getting hurt. I want to make friends/relationships with people because of a genuine connection, rather my internal desire to help.

2. My negative awareness of my body. I find myself wondering how I look in certain outfits, from certain angles... and thinking the worst. It isn't an issue of me not liking my body or how I look anymore... it's a fear that others will judge me solely on it.

3. I'm too good of a procrastinator and excuse maker. If I spent as much time analyzing why I can't be doing what I want to do actually trying to do what I'd want to do... I would have overcome all of my obstacles by now.

Gay Men.

The comments made on my last post lead me to believe that this subject needs to be discussed further.

ghost said...

what exactly was it that made you want to be a gay male?

8:17 AM

Many things. The most important of which Adam addressed in his comment.

Adam said...

Didn't you tell me once you were a gay black man trapped in a straight white woman's body?

a) what does that say about me, considering our history?

b) are you no longer black on the inside? what happened?

11:16 AM

In one of the lines of work that I do (the performance art line, including design, choreography, vocals, dance and colorguard), the field is dominated by, you guessed it: gay men.

The reason this is noteworthy is that it feeds my bitter feminism to the point where I want to stop shaving under my arms and wear boxers under all of my pants suits. Men always get to climb higher on the professional ladder, EVEN if they are a taboo minority. Gay men are my competition. They get the higher paying gigs, get to throw the higher rifle tosses, and some even get to be bigger, higher pitched, louder bitches than me.

They have the best of both worlds. They get to have more physical strength, yet be sensitive, thoughtful, and like to cook. I could continue on with this sweeping stereotyping, but it might make me look bad.

And just to make it worse, African Americans :cough BLACK PEOPLE cough: have more rhythm, style, comedic timing, muscle definition, social charms, and family history and structure that far surpass any other collective race/nationality.

So to answer your questions, Adam, yes I did tell you that I was a black, gay male trapped in a white, straight woman's body. I feel oppressed and limited in this estrogen filled jello mold.

What does that say about you? That you are very comfortable with yourself, your sexuality, and that if black, gay men had racks like mine, you might be gay. The wife needs to know about this before you leave her, old and alone, with two kids, for some hot little twenty-something Latino you found on facebook.

And thirdly, I feel even more black on the inside than I used to because of all the hip hop classes I have been taking (taught by, imagine!! a black, gay male), and I am one of his star pupils.

Those of you reading my blog for the first time, I apologize, and hope you don't take this the wrong way. I've been watching a lot of Gilmore Girls lately, and I think the absurd speech patterns and politically incorrect comments have gone to my head.

Currently Reading #3: Without You

In an effort to further feed my unhealthy desire to be a gay male, I have begun reading the memoir of Anthony Rapp, one of the starz from the Broadway Musical and Movie, Rent.

After finishing Sellevision, I decided to go for something a little more idealistic. Still heartbreaking, mind you... I mean, this struggling little rock opera, his mom having cancer, the whole discovering his sexuality thing... this is guaranteed to make me cry. But in a sunshine and rainbowie kinda way.

Yeah...

Can't Sleep.

It's nice to know that I haven't lost the ability to fuck myself over.

I have been trying to fall asleep since midnight. After attempting to read, watch tv, listen to music, masturbate, toss, turn, and lay in my own sweat, I have decided to just give up and cancel the sub job I had lined up for tomorrow.

This marks the third cancellation of my substitute teaching career. The first was because I hadn't mastered using the touch tone pad of my phone. The second was to ditch a teacher I didn't know for one that I did know.

But the third time MUST be the charm because I just know that if I tried to get up at 4:45am, put together an outfit and then go teach a subject that I have never taught before, at a school I've never taught at before, go to musical review rehearsal, and then to winterguard rehearsal, all on an hour and a half of sleep, I would fail at life, miserably.

Well no, now that's wrong. I am still failing at life because that was the only paying gig I had lined up for the week.

Anyone know if pawn shops take kittens?

Shop Talk?

So I took this writing course at my local community college during the fall. Creative Writing 101. Lewis Black was the professor.

Okay, so he wasn't THE Lewis Black, but the similarities are such that the mental images you all are getting of my professor being an older, Jewish gentleman, with glasses and a poofy, receding, salt and pepper (more salt than pepper) hairline, angry about everything in general, yelling at random, inappropriate times, hand motions that defy logic, and a superior knowledge to everyone I have ever met, are more accurate than any other description I could give you.

His course was more intense than the 200 level course, which was taught by Jane Austin. He made us read A LOT. He made us produce over 40 pages of "fiction" by the end of the semester. He publicly critiqued and humiliated us weekly, and went down roads of tangents that lasted over 25% of lecture time. It was the hardest class I have ever taken.

So, obviously, I fell in love with it.

I figured that this would help me develop a portfolio for grad schools. And well, I've got three pretty nifty short stories now. Yeah. Me. I wrote 3 COMPLETE stories. In addition to this, I also got myself a mentor.

Yeah, you heard me. I got mother fucking Lewis Black to be my mentor. I really have no idea how it happened, and still pinch myself every time I open one of his emails. I can look at this one of three ways:

1. He is a lonely, old pervert who has a thing for redheads.

2. He sees something in my writing and I that are worth refining.

3. He thinks I am a tragic mess and need all the help i can get.

Right now, my overanalytical nature is mixing all three together, forming the growing paranoia on the back of my neck. Really, it looks much worse than it actually is.

The overwhelming anxiety aside, we are meeting later this week to talk about my resumes and my job search. That's right folks, I am off the schedule at ye old pub. I figured that until I got rid of my safety net, I wouldn't really make an effort to find a real job. This is all part of my New Years Bull Shit.

We'll see how long I last until I get a job with Starbux again.

In an effort to curb questions about reading my short stories, I was advised not to publish them on the internet. I really do want to submit them to hard copy publications and see if I can get started with this whole "I'm a writer" thing. So keep your fingers crossed for me. That is, of course, if you want me to get published. If not, don't worry about it. Walking around with your fingers crossed prohibits normal functioning.

Currently Reading #2: Sellevision

As a woman, I have always loved fluff books. But never could I have imagined how good a fluff book written by a fluffer could be!!

Fine. I don't know if Augusten Burroughs really IS a fluffer, but you get my point. For those of you unfamiliar with the author, he wrote the novel turned into newly released movie Running With Scissors.

The story is about a shopping network, and all of the employees there. So far, it is very juicy. Very scandalous. Insanely ridiculous.

Regret

I wonder why this place has been such an on again off again affair for me. I look back through the archives and see huge periods of time where all I posted were excuses. But I also see periods of such fervent writing, full of reflection and self evaluation, and I wonder if I am worse off without it.

Was blogging for me, were I went when I had no one to talk to about me with?

Was it the stand in for my dad? For my romantic counter part? For my best friend?

Should I feel bad about letting it go? Or should I feel happy that I no longer connect with it the way I used to?

Do I miss the writing, or is it the internet community I once found myself knee-deep in?

When I click on links and then follow their links to pages I used to view daily, I see that I am no longer a part of the underground. That I was a blip on the radar and not a lasting contributor.

I see people that I used to value as friends who don't know me at all anymore... and who really are doing just fine without me. It does make me sad.

It makes me want to share again. To sit down and really spend a few hours putting together a funny, stream of conscious poem, that makes your heart break a little when you weren't looking.

I used to be good. I used to be important. I used to have something to say.

I used to love spending time on the internet. It was this whole world where people could really know me for my words, rather than what I did or looked like or how old I was. But now it scares me to sit in front of the screen and know that I have no business poking around anywhere in anyone else's digital domain.

I was the child who moved away from home and never bothered to visit or write or call every now and again just to tell her family and friends that she missed them.

I am the disappointment. The one with so much potential. The one who never followed through.

I'm sorry.

Boondox: January 2007

crumpled up kitteh