tsunami relief fund

if you have some time, take a gander at the bitter club in our first attempt to try and help rid the world of overwhelming reasons to be bitter.

because i am not exactly in a position where i can contribute to this fund as much as i would like to, the next best thing i can do is spread the word to people who can.

thanx y'all and either way... prayers, thoughts, affirmations, meditations and any other positive vibes sent in the direction of the people in south asia are also mad appreciated.

how to deal

oh...
it's all just so...
romantic

even though...
it's not like how...
i planned it


i hate to admit this. but the pain of this last month has been so comfortable. part of me is tempted to go back and read posts from previous years... from the times when i was living at home. when i was single. when close members of my family were having health problems. i know i'd find the same me there that is sitting here right now.

it is so easy to fall back into my old habits. i see it as i spend time with old friends and old flames. i sense it deep inside of me. that urge to go back to touching anyone i have ever felt anything for in the dark whenever our schedules happen to lead us to the same place at the same time. the urge to stay up late with paper and glue cutting and pasting thoughts of you. the urge to type away at this screen and to click away at profiles and websites of anyone that i might be able to connect with. the urge to spend the daylight hours snuggled in bed and lost in a book by a writer far more brave than i.

that same self-righteous longing i have to be able to share this beautiful mess that is inside of me. with no one around but my mother who doesn't know how to understand and my brother who'd rather not.

i understand that our hurt is still very fresh and piercing. i know that i made the right decision and these feelings of second thoughts will be fleeting. but none of this makes it any easier. all the self help books and inspirational quotes in the world can't change that i miss you and us and what it was like not to be like this.

it truly does feel like i am home. and that scares the shit out of me. because i thought i busted out of this box a long fucking time ago.

"i AM myself... and that is NOT enough." ~ Sylvia Plath

keep it.

there was clearly no need for me to get out of my pajamas today- let alone put on a bra.

the day after christmas is classically known as "play with the new shit you got" day. so in honor of this sacred tradition, i watched 4 movies and read 100 pages of Chuck Palahniuk's Diary. i also half-assidly cleaned up the basement and tried to hook up my bastard of a computer to our new router, but to no avail.

in following with another holiday time tradition, i am also wallowing in self-pity. this xmas was just cloudy. that's the best word i can come up with. no magic, really. no passion. dad was sick and infected me... so now i'm phlegmming all over the place. i can't get excited over presents that i picked out and wrapped myself. no kitty to sit in my lap and play with my ribbons. 3 hours at the nursing home. eating dinner with one of my cousins who reminds me too much of bubba.

the whole idea behind the holiday is not lost in my family. we choose jesus over santa... but with all the recent buzzing about this christ figure, even he's a little pop-cultured out.

but nevertheless... i wish all of you a happy holiday and look forward to 2005. this time of year always reminds me of my girl, Bridget Jones. resolutions will not be hard to come by this year. anyway. i'll say that for next week.

a big thank you to everybuddy who has frequented this page, or even just stopped by in hopes of webcam boob pictures. a bigger thank you to everyone who is still hanging around waiting for me to produce something quality again.

it reminds me to keep the faith.

It just keeps piling on. Slowly. One brick at a time. Encircling my feet. I was sitting comfortably with this ledge that came up to my waist but the wall is almost over my neck now.

Sometimes things just happen so fast your brain doesn’t register it all at once. You could call this a biological defense mechanism… because if you did take it all in at the pace it is dished out your heart would explode.

Instead, you are left with the exact opposite feeling.

Emptiness.

I saw my grandmother have a seizure in the hospital. That happened on Wednesday. I had been meaning to write about it… the most frightening thing I have ever been witness to in my entire life… but I guess I had just been afraid to relive the moment. And in order to do something justice, you have to experience it fully on paper. So I just avoided it. I still am.

My winter guard rehearsal kicked a lot of ass. That happened on Thursday.

The Pub had the busiest lunch ever. That happened on Friday. I made a lot of money and had a little laugh to myself about one of my coworkers throwing a hissy fit at the head chef. After work I was so tired I took a two hour nap with my cat in my room. It was the best nap ever… and I didn’t even realize that at the time.

I went to a party in CP. That happened between Friday and Saturday. Spent some time with some people that I have truly missed.

I had the worst 4 hour car ride of my life. That happened on Saturday. I was in high heels, got caught in the worst traffic ever, took two naps because I kept nodding off at the wheel, forget my CD’s and had to listen to static radio stations the whole time, cried twice because I thought I was going to disappoint Bubba again, almost got in a car accident, and got a speeding ticket for going 75 in a 65.

Bubba and I are no longer an item. That happened on Sunday. And to say I don’t even know why would be a lie… but to say I do know why wouldn’t be the truth either.

My father turned 66. That happened between Sunday and today.

We put my cat, Snickers, to sleep. That happened today. For 14 years that fat-ass, fuzzy, little bastard was my baby. My best friend. The only being I know that let me hug him all the time… even when he wasn’t really in the mood. There was a tumor in his abdomen and it ruptured. The surgery to try and remove it would have cost more than my family could afford. And there was no guarantee he’d be okay afterwards. I’ve never seen something die like that before. Right in front of me.

Lots of crying this month.

Can’t really think of anything else to say… the holidays don’t really have the same effect when so many things that you hold close to you involve so much loss and fear and pain. But I guess this is what it's all about, really. This hurt I feel reminds me that it means something to me. It all means something. Maybe i just can’t figure out what right away. Here’s hoping I will eventually.

We all live to die… but right now I’m not really dying to live.

every minute i have needs to be made up ... but how?

the morning leaves my skin dry. i rub my hands over my face and wish that i hadn't left my lotion all the way upstairs. don't think me lazy... just frustrated with myself that i got down to the basement before noticing i was in dire need of moisturizing.

moe asked me to write a post last night. i spent the evening putting my desk together and watching viva la bam instead. what can i say... his antics are just so entertaining.

and bam actually got me thinking. through the power of prompting and editing, this show has made characters out of his family and friends. certain personalities pushed to the extreme with the promise of monetary rewards and more importantly- mad props from other adrenaline junkies. peer pressure is a beautiful thing.

the color of everyone in that show is what gets to me. not the potty humor or the stunts or the abundance of testosterone... it's just all the raw excitement. everyone gets emotional about EVERYTHING. granted, i know that most of it is forced and planned because it is a television show, but damn... they have more than twice the amount of sheer energy in their lame little world than i do in mine.

that shit is just not going to fly.

i constantly have to tell my guard students to "cheese" or "ham" it up when they perform anything. that in order to really impress and connect with an audience they need to give and share themselves as much as possible. that it needs to be the most important thing in the world to you and you need to put your balls out there.

WHY shouldn't i be encouraging this in my own life... with the things that ARE really important to me?

fear. i think you need some time off.



"You ask me what I came here to do. I will tell you. I came to live out loud."
- Emile Zola

bundles of ... well. something or other.

first off: hahahahahahahaaa! love it!

second: i am burnt out like a mother pooper! being this tired and feeling this good reminds me of my college years. running my ass ragged but loving every fucking minute of it. sunshine, rainbows and bunny rabbits, even!

speaking of rabbits. i can't get over this shit... baby bunnies on the way!! so wonderful and scary all at the same time! congrats again, eric!

work is wonderful, guard is grand and bubba is beautiful (even if too far away all the time). family is even semi-functional. weird.

however... horrifying experience this afternoon. i am one to masturbate in the shower on occasion. mom has put nativity scene right in the middle of the counter. feel creepy getting off with the manger near by. next time will throw towel over.

i love underbellies! show me yours.

assimilating

there is a constant pull in me. contradicting passions that never let up or ease away. my heart strings pull hard and soft all at the same time, playing songs that only the skies seem to understand. i live on a see-saw ever swaying; ever changing from one high to another. the spectrum of the human condition is so wide... and every time i extend further inward or outward i never fail to be surprised or challenged by what i find.

i have forgotten what it is like to write while consciously making an effort to sound poetic with prose that could read like a stale and routine essay or research paper. i have forgotten the power of word choice and how snobby one can sound contemplating their vernacular.

the wings of this social butterfly have reopened and are extending towards the heavens and hells that we have created for ourselves. i realize that while most people create a box for themselves to live in, i create a box that i constantly want to rip to shreds or fly away from. but in a sense... that IS my box. my craving for more, for deeper meaning, for greater, hidden significance is my crutch. my routine.

i am so painfully afraid of being boring. so petrified that my story is not worth telling. so worried that i won't effect anyone... yet so mad that i crave validation from others. why can't it just be that my story means something to me? why does it have to matter to someone-ANYONE else? moments of introversion crash into whirlwinds of extroversion that give me a high that i can only assume is better than drugs.

bottom line is that i have spent the last two days socially slutting up and whoring myself out. i have met so many new people and have reconnected with so many sparkles that have dimmed in my eyes. i have missed this part of me... closeted and shut off in attempts to be more adult.

i don't want a grown up 9-5. i don't want the house and the dog and the kids yet. i want late nights full of starry eyes and music so loud and fast that my ears can't keep up. i want too much caffeine and nicotine and drunken sexual tension with men and women i will never touch. i want fantasy and dreams and i want them tangible and real and just slightly out of my reach. i want a reason to jump and stretch and try my damnedest to capture them.

declaration to the world of people trying so hard not to be noticed:
fight existence and deny love. hide your sex and shield your mind from leaving its comfort zone. feel sorry for yourself and everything else. envy, admire and hate me secretly.... but get the FUCK out of my way.

i sing to myself long-winded ballads of horrible rhyming schemes and tangets that lead down paths to nowhere. but the view. the view soaked in color and bleeding of all the emotions we teach our young boys to ignore and suppress. the vulnerable confidence and honesty that our young girls never quite seem to embrace- make that the heart i wear on my shoulder.

manipulate my wordy game playing into something more than a strategy for getting men to desire me sexually and let those who read this know that as much as i want to write it for myself... it is always with you in mind. those sentences and awkward phrases that twinge a subtle sense of "is she talking about me?" in the back of your throat:

they are as real as you want them to be. because they are already so much more than real to me.

let me tell you:

this move back into my childhood room has definitely been humbling. a lot of things have been thrown and given away, a lot of privacy and indulgences i'm used to have disappeared, and mountains of sweat and sore muscles have made me tired and irritable. we still aren't settled because my brother is moving from his apartment in the basement back up to his old bedroom too. this leaves the bottom floor a space for the two of us, our desks, art supplies and entertainment center. i can't wait until i can hook my computer back up and get all my creative crap in order. getting rid of all the friggin' boxes everywhere will be nice too. i just feel in between right now.

on the plus side, i'm really enjoying my fourth period class as QO with the colorguard girls. we are performing Ah Ha's "Take on Me" at the winter concert coming up. it's gonna be rad. neon flags and 80's hair.
i'm also working lunch shifts at my favorite irish pub now... and the vibe of that place is just so excellent. everyone on staff is a sarcastic bastard and the customers banter right along with us. let's just say i feel very at home. the cash at the end of each shift is nice too. heh.
my winterguard is promising to be phenomenal. i'm almost positive i will have 20 kids. my show design is going well and their energy is great. we all want it bad this season. fingers crossed that we sustain this throughout the season.

oh. and i figure that i should probably mention a certain "he." yeah... i've kinda had a boyfriend for about a month now. don't hit me!! i just didn't want to say anything and jinx it like i have with almost every other he over the last 3 years. this is my second crack at a long-distance relationship... and i'm going to be honest and say that i'm not handling it well. the time i spend with him is just too wonderful for words and the weeks that separate it are so damn boring in comparison. not to mention my current feeling of "in between" with my whole friggin' life making my over-analytical mindset completely wacked out. i just hope he can stand me being all retarded for a bit until i go back into my normal retardedness. you know what i mean.

anyway... we shall refer to him as bubba from here out, and let me tell you:

i. am. in love.

so what does love look like?

is it a jawline
the curve of a breast
the slant of a smile
or snuggled up against a chest?

is it a feeling
the scent of sweetness
the sparkle in an eye
or a heart beat that doesn't rest?

is it special
a beautiful mess
is it just like everyone else
or is it better than the best?


is it real
something to confess
is this what life is all about

... or is it all just a test?

holy canadian bacon, batman!

wabbit has wetuwned.

mondays are highly underrated.

they get such a bad rap... everyone always wining and complaining that they have to go through another week on the job, drifting through the motions, dealing with all the crap they want to put off.

it's fucking sad that our society thinks this way. only living for 2/7ths of our existence.

but caffeine is a blessing and i am happy to be in the 19th hour of this day. even if i should be asleep as to prepare for the 17 hour day that is approaching.

im diggin this monday because it's the best damn day i've had without involving some romantical or sexual interaction with a male in a long ass time.

i worked from 10am until 7pm today... spending the surrounding 2 hours rubbernecking in traffic. the other 6 hours of this day went to shmoozing with my extended family (3 hrs) and having such a genuinely good time with a close friend (3 hrs).

fucking i LOVE good conversation. the kind that makes your eyes bug and your hands shake (ok, maybe the coffee had something to do with that too, but it's the words i want to smoke up and choke out high, high, hiiiii.)

hiu.

it's true what they say. having too much to do definitely forces you into better time management. the busiest day ever and yet i am writing one of the first real posts in at least 3 weeks. the stream of consciousness diary entry.

i smell like coffee, cigs, BO and sex. that's goodnight.

po' folk woes.

the worst part about being broke is trying to get out of social activities without looking like a tool. i hate having to come up with some excuse as to why i can't hang out with friends and family...

i've managed to just avoid everyone and everything and therefore just not get into a situation where money would be needed.

however, my roommate caught me spending my last $16 on gas so we could go out in Bethesda to a bar and dance club and she said that she "just couldn't imagine spending the last of her money so she could go out."

well i couldn't imagine it either...

but the truth of the matter is that i need social activity. more than a steady intake of food, a nice wardrobe or HBO and pay per view every month.

if that makes me stupid or shallow... then so be it. but i'd rather pay to have an evening of good times and just eat ramen noodles for a whole week than have gourmet frozen dinners and not have a life.

gah. i dunno. maybe i should just suck it up and get a damn 9 to 5. just be like everyone else... living for their weekends.

... yeah right.

hi!

::waves::

we could make beautiful music together.

i wanted to take some time to plug a certain sumbuddy and his new blog. i have a feeling he will be very lazy and sporadic with his writing... but if you go through the archives you'll see like i do that the quality is there when he makes an effort. heh. reminds me of me.


however... i'm way more excited about his music page. check the tunes out... you'll dig them! hopefully he's got more info about his upcoming album, so if you are interested in hearing more of his stuff, shoot me an email or leave a comment or something and i'll see if i can send out some ep's.

well. it's official:

i am a moron.

over the last 2 weeks my car lost a lot of oil. how, you ask? i haven’t noticed any spots under the car in places that i have parked, and there hasn’t been any nasty burning smell or smoke coming from underneath my hood… so i have no idea. either way, when dan heard my car rattling, he checked the oil level to find it WAY below minimum. so… before he left for home on sunday, he bought me 4 qts of oil. since my car holds 5 qts, i figured putting 3 in would be appropriate to bring me up to a safe level again.

yeah. here’s where the moron part comes in. read more...

as the snot drips...

this morning while i was carrying laundry downstairs, my ankle decided to crack and twist completely off (at least, that's what it felt like). i laid in the foyer of my basement in the fetal position surrounded by my dirty underwear for what seemed like the longest five minutes of my life. the crowning moment was when the snot started to drip out of my nostril onto the floor.

i have had the same pimple on my left jaw line for over 2 weeks. it now has a friend about an inch away from my mouth. at first... i thought it was a mosquito bite because it itched like my butt crack when i don't wipe thoroughly. then i thought it was just the mother of all pimples too big and not ripe enough to pop yet. but when no whitehead appeared... i had to face facts.

this bitch is a cold sore.

i have been sniffling all day. and sneezing. and my mother and i are sharing hot flashes. so either i'm going through menopause or i have a fucking fever.

this is not a good time for me to be a sick gimp. but then again... when is?

voting is for cool kids. so you should probably forget about it.

i think i'll be a democrat today.

that way when my parents say "damn liberals" i can yell at them for cussing about me.

the courtroon was a lot brighter than i imagined. probably because most of the court shows i watch have wood panels and warm, dim lighting with spotlights on the judge.

"We used to dance like that."
"Yeah. When we were delusional and didn’t know how to harness our sexual energy."
"Do you even know how to speak without using psycho-sexual babble anymore?"
"But it’s all psycho-sexual babble. It encompasses our every word, thought and action."

There was no point in trying to discuss the matter any further. She looked to the floor and started to feel sorry for her feet. They hadn't stayed out all night until it hurt in a long time. The pity party started to crawl up the her legs and settled in between her hips. They hadn't stayed up all night until it hurt in a long time either.

preface.

she left a note on the kitchen counter.

i didn't mean to be this way. i never wanted to hurt you. i never wanted to hurt me, either. but maybe life means more this way... both of us hurting.

she was always so damn melodramatic. like she thought she was the heroine of some tragic love story... or really just your run of the mill teenie bopper romantic comedy. either way, she really milked every opportunity to be pensive and broken with some emo-punk-bubble gum bullshit music playing in the background.

and i guess that is a fitting way to begin this story.

like day old coffee.

thought i'd plug the girls and the recently re-vamped bitter club. unlike my site, we are actually producing new content over there... so help us out with some feedback.

we are even looking for free-lance contributors to help add to the bitterness. i'd really like to have some of you people share your woes... especially since my bitterness seems to have gone down a lot in these last couple of weeks. ahem. i have no idea why, though.

ahem.

i have been putting off a lot of things.

here's a list:

writing.
singing.
the black and white.
kinya.
melissa.
fixing my computer.
making dan his mixed CD.
getting my hair cut.
visiting my grandmother.
getting ready to move back home.
getting a job back home.

and when i look at this list... most of the items on it would fall into the "most important things in the world to me" category. there is something really wrong with this picture and, quite frankly, i don't like it.

lookin up

the only clouds in the sky
trail from the tips of the airplanes that fly by
and they all are silver-lined
with the tears cried by all the people inside

they gaze out of their windows down at the world
and are met only by the eyes of one little girl

empty hearts leave empty eyes
but in hers you can see
the storm brewing inside

and empty souls breed empty love
but with her it never seemed-
it never seemed to be enough

and while everybody knows
that her life has been tough
everywhere she goes
she's still always lookin up

FUCKED up!!

thank you for this, mike.

i will never be able to play scrabble ever again.

ladies pull up their skirts in an effort to make the dance easier...

but the sudden exposure of skin only makes it harder for the gentlemen to concentrate on the steps.

talk about your wake-up call.

the good news is that i'll have more intimate time with my blog again come this december. yep... i'm moving back home with my mom and brother right after thanksgiving.

and before any of you decide to bring up questions and advice about my decision... just take my word for it: i've thought about it forwards, backwards, upside down and inside out. i'm not happy with my decision, but i believe it's the right one.

it's a risk i have to take.

my boys from back in the day explain it much better than i ever could. they make my drama sound so much more poetic... while still maintaining that punk-emo jaded edge. buy their latest album if you haven't yet. green day. american idiot.

Here comes the rain again,
Falling from the stars,
Drenched in my pain again,
Becoming who we are,
As my memory rests,
But never forgets what I lost

Wake me up when September ends

Summer has come and past,
The innocent can never last,
Wake me up when September ends

Like my father's come to pass,
Twenty years has gone so fast

Wake me up when September ends

my world has turned upside down again.
and in a sad way... it's kinda nice to have things back to normal.

Reluctant, I am.

Constantly searching and yearning for something to go wrong. For a reason not to care. For a reason not to believe. To find something concretely unacceptable about him.

Why? Why can’t I just sit back and finally enjoy the butterflies I have been chasing after what seems to be my whole life?

The music, the magic, the quiet, calming, unspoken comfort between us… it’s all there.

Why am I trying so hard to ruin this for myself?

Maybe it’s fear. An emotion I have not really addressed yet.

Have I fallen in love with the lifestyle I used to cry over? The role of the bitter, single woman with eyes wider, older and warmer than one would expect- THAT is me. Do I lose who I am if I find a man who warms my heart and challenges my spirit? I don’t know how to be me without the fear of being alone but being okay with that.

What will I write about?

Do I want a life that produces poetry or a life that inspires it?

aural sex:

giving new meaning to wet willies everywhere

Sometimes when I lock eyes with you I forget how to breathe.

When life peels away to be nothing more than waiting for the next visitor to show up, I wonder if I will miss the way things used to be. I wonder if I will understand what has happened to me even when everyone around me tries hard to hide it.

Do we live our lives only to forget what it was all about? Do we die alone and cold only to be reborn in the eyes of new children destined for the same fate?

Regurgitated souls: do they lose their sparkle with time or is love everlasting?

why does it feel like i'm the only one who finds the smell of sun-tan lotion erotic?

figures

words jump, dance and run around all silly-like on this page of my life. they are all excited and nervous and aware of everything happening around them. they shiver with anticipation and wonder and their hearts beat a little faster.

they appreciate all the energy and activity and are inspired to create. to reflect what they are feeling. but it's crazy how the things you'd want to write about take up all the time you have TO write about them.

now i remember posts like these ...

Things are really stressed right now. My grandmother was moved yesterday from the hospital to the nursing home. Trouble is... they moved her into the crazy wing. I'm talking straight out of the mother fucking cuckoo's nest. Granted, it was a mistake... but they had to keep her there for the night until they could figure out where to move her to.

My mother is really taking this hard and the house is kind of falling apart. I am really at a loss trying to be there for her. In fact, I don't even know how to be there for myself. I'm scared. I'm scared to see her looking and acting like some tragic, vulnerable, little old woman. That's not my Nonnie. My Nonnie is the caring mother-type figure that was always there for me when my mother couldn't be.

I can't handle her gaping mouth and her bugged out eyes. The memories of her life all being mixed around in her head and spurting out in nonsensical phrases.

I'm working over 60 hours a week between the dating service and the two colorguards. And that's not counting the 2 hours I spend everyday in the car driving back and forth. The trips to the hospital and now nursing home are adding up and I don't even have time to clip my damn broken fingernails.

The drama with the staff at one of the schools is getting out of control. My head pounds just at the thought of dealing with these people. So much for being able to use colorguard as a mental release. Instead I get to worry about petty bullshit that gets in the way of me dong my job.

And I wish I could tell you about the man I met. The late night hours of the last few days have been spent on the phone with him, trying to soak up all the goodness I hear spewing from his mouth. I've gotta tell you if it weren't for him right now... my heart would be so heavy. So tried and heavy with worry about my family and their physical health.

Worry that my grandmother just doesn't know how to let go of this world, instead just suffering and wasting away until she won't even remember it. Worry that my parents won't be around to see me grow up. To see me take on the world and win. To see me meet my match and start the rest of my life with him. Worry that my brother is caught up in this mess worse than I and that he might never get out alive. I'm scared that his heart is closing off already.

The money isn't coming in... the roommates are frustrated with me, I'm sure. It is very humbling to have to admit over and over and over again that you need help and that you can't handle your problems. The friends are distant, but only because I keep them there. I'm just sick of being "that friend" who is always stressed out and hurting.

Someday I will be the person that people look to and admire for having their shit together. Someday. Until then I guess I just have to settle for being the person who tries her damnedest to sort through all the mess.

Keep on marching, soldiers.

Damien Rice: "Cannonball"

There’s still a little bit of your taste in my mouth
There’s still a little bit of you laced with my doubt
It’s still a little hard to say what's going on

There’s still a little bit of your ghost your witness
There’s still a little bit of your face i haven't kissed
You step a little closer each day
That i can’t say what's going on

Stones taught me to fly
Love, it taught me to lie
Life, it taught me to die
So it's not hard to fall
When you float like a cannonball

There’s still a little bit of your song in my ear
There’s still a little bit of your words I long to hear
You step a little closer to me
So close that I can't see what's going on

Stones taught me to fly
Love, it taught me to lie
Life taught me to die
So it's not hard to fall
When you float like a cannon...

Stones taught me to fly
Love taught me to cry
So come on courage
Teach me to be shy
'Cause it's not hard to fall
And I don't wanna scare her

It's not hard to fall
And I don't wanna lose
It's not hard to grow
When you know that you just don't know

Today is my grandma’s 94th burfday. She started celebrating it at 3am this morning when she fell trying to get to the bathroom.

My Aunt and Uncle and Cousin all heard the thud of her fragile body banging into her walker, then the desk, and finally the floor. After a half-asleep once over, she appeared to be fine… not counting a cut on her wrist from her watch.

these hospital walls are the palest of white
here in this desert they're reciting my last rites
the smell of these halls
brings temporary comfort
as the oxygen flows through my blood
el corazon was poisoned tonight...
she's on her eight of nine.

When they all woke up again around 7am… things seemed to be okay. Until my grandmother collapsed at the breakfast table. This time she blacked out. Cue 911, Ambulance and Emergency Room.

I got the message at work around noon. Proceeded to freak out when realized mom’s cell phone would be off because of hospital rules and such so had no idea which hospital they were at. Started making phone calls. Found out she was listed as being in Suburban. Took off.

About ¾ of the way there, my mom calls me. She’s at Montgomery General. Ugh. Drive another 45 minutes. Finally get there.

Words cannot describe how frightening she looked. With her teeth out, her cheeks fell in around her mouth. Her tongue was hanging out of her mouth because of the stroke. Not to mention the weakness in the left side of her face. She spasmed and breathed irregularly in her sedated sleep.

when half of all your prayers are insincere,
the other half are lies.
here is this watermark under this bridge.
the point where it all crested,
rolled back and drifted into the sea.
i climb from this wreckage
as the smoke begins to clear from my lungs.
the closest of close calls has happened tonight.

At least she remembered who I was this time, trying to smile at me when fading out of sleep. Six hours later, after being moved to Suburban (she was on list at Suburban in preparation for her transfer… explaining fluke from earlier), she was coming out of her groggy state.

As she realized that she was back in the hospital, not even a month after she had come back home from a 6 week stay in the hospital and nursing home… she held on tight to the strong mask she has been wearing longer than I’ve been alive. But it slipped a little…
Accidentally letting a tear squeeze through and fall down her cheek to the ugly hospital gown.

it's time that i made things right
for the first time,
since the last time.
let this moment of clarity
lift this curse that has been cast upon me.

I kissed her on the nose and told her I loved her. On my way out the door I overheard her asking my mom…

“Was that Elizabeth?”

Unfortunately… my mask let a lot more than one tear slip through.

appreciate the good times,
but don't take the worst for granted.
'cause you only get so many second chances

$17short of my rent.

yep. that's how much my last pay check was for. i'm almost 3 months behind in rent now, and i don't even want to think about utilities that have been fronted for me as well.

i'm a car payment behind. this month i'll have to pay double for my cell phone. oh. and i don't have any food.

both of my colorguards owe me money. and i'm not even talking about payment for this season... i'm talking about reimbursement for things i paid for out of my own pocket. i love the MCPS financial offices. they rule. /sarcasm.

i'm thinking that i should ask my dad to just give me a check for the amount he was going to spend on my new laptop birthday present, and i'll just use it to get out of the red. i have no place getting a new 'puter when i can't even feed myself and buy gas.

you ever feel like you work so damn hard just to end up worse off then when you started?

that's just not right

i guess you could call this my second coming...

let me know what you thought of the story.

refresh my memory.

::sits down::

::pulls hair back::

::flexes fingers::

::picks nose::

::begins to type::

I don’t remember what it’s like to come home and write an amusing post about my shenanigans of the day anymore. I sit and stare at the blank Word Doc and wait for something entertaining to come into view. Lyrics and poetry are really all that just seem to naturally flow anymore.

Really, I’m not trying to be emo about this, but I was just reading some of my archived selves and really miss feeling like I had so much to say.

Do I still have a lot to say? Well… yes. But I don’t see the point in taking the time to say half of it anymore. What, exactly, did typing it all out really do for me?

taking stock

aight. it should come as no surprise that i have been internet retarded for the past... oh, i dunno... 3 months or so. i know. gasp.

this being the case, i have not kept up with any of the pages i read, let alone my own page. this layout isn't even CLOSE to fully functioning.

but i'm lazy and i'm trying to cut the fat here, folks. my readership has fallen drastically, and with good cause. i am aware that it gets taxing visiting a site that isn't supplying new material. so to those of you still representing i thank you.

for those of you that i link... if your URL has changed or anything and you'd like me to update it, leave me a comment. or if there are any of you who have a page that i don't link and you think i should be reading you, let me know.

and lastly, anyone interested in designing a new, much less wordy layout for me... i'm sure EVERYONE would appreciate the interest.

that's all for now i guess. OH. except for you twilight authors. if you don't start posting again (at least once a week), i'm going to cut you. no hard feelings, but i only want to have people who WANT to be involved to be involved. i mean even i have been posting on a fairly regular basis... and that says something.

ok i lied again. there is something else i need. inspiration. writing prompts, subjects, anything that you think might get my juices flowing... cause i'm just all blocked up. lol. ew.

tootles!

i fell in love twice tonight.

i secretly try to trust
your words that i know
will only blow away
like eraser dust

but now no words come
from your mouth at all
making me numb
and watching me fall

tear droplets
match lips without blistex
dry and cracking
under the pressure
of your lies

i am wholly
passed dead
just leaving that place
for you to rest your head

undress me, my sweet
notice, please
that my creases are neat
wrinkles smooth away
like love, fools say

and now i stare
dripping succulent sex
from the tip of each
heaving, pink breast

i haven't smelled you in forever...
the length of our supposed journey together

insecurity should know
no presence here
but somehow still it found a way inside
only disguised...

as fear.

just wanted to drop a quick note. let you all know i AM still alive.

band camp is over this weekend. the 14 hour work days will come to a stop. i'll be back.

promise.

we jump and run around and sing loudly while we spend our days spinning on softball fields with crooked spray-painted lines. we practice and practice and practice until our arms go numb and our throats scratch hoarsely "five six seven eight."

we loose track of everything else going on in our lives. we miss out on a lot. even planning our own 23rd birthday.


but we don't mind all that much in the long run. it's the short run that's the hard part.

all of the dreams and good intentions in the world don't mean a thing if the one that you love doesn't share those feelings.

none of this matters... because you don't want it to.

all aboard

no. wait. you must have misheard. this iron train on a guilt trip to the corners of my mind is full and there is no room for any more passengers trying to hitch a ride.

this iron train full of lust and envy and regret has been ridden on for so many years and really is worn out. the tracks are deeply rooted and rusting with age and overuse.

this iron train would be better used elsewhere because no one ever comes back from its destination. tickets are hard to come by but the conductor is always on the lookout for those in need. that is his flaw, i suppose...

this iron train is tired. doing its job without question or hesitation takes a toll on the engine. the fire isn't burning as brightly as it used to.

it's time to shut this iron train down. it won't ever run again. so run the fuck along you little bastards and find somewhere else to loiter and suck the life out of.

Dear Sir or Madam:

Keeping the sex of it all wrapped up tight and hidden from no one but yourself... the knots pull hard on your heart and leave your eyes with a constant bulging. The urgency of your manner scares me.

Try and leave me some time to candy-coat the ugliness between us. I need this to be pretty. My sweet tooth has gone unsatisfied for longer than I care to remember but thank you for bringing that up.

Simple things like love and friendship grow monotonous and we cry hard at our boredom, still unwilling to change. We relate to miserables and worsen each other's mess with sympathy spills and the drama swirls all together as I flush it down.



"We're stuck in here," my grandmother says to me as we sit and listen to the music playing on the cheap stereo. "Won't anyone help me get out?"

it's great that you can perpetually live in your peripheral vision... but i'd rather look this in the eye.

lashes long enough to catch raindrops surround eyes the color of emeralds in direct sunlight. cheekbones tired with the pain of too much smiling boarder lips that tease me with every word spoken.

hours are washed away in thunderstorms that make visible the lightning soaring out of my chest towards his. one embrace that multiplied into three left me longing and dreaming of what is to become of this.

patience will drip from my fingers as i shove them into my pockets to prevent them from reaching out for him.

lying about this is just not necessary... i'm not digging the online world right now. i'm trying to live some life instead of just sitting and reflecting on it. i think i have been doing more than enough of the latter and would like to switch things up a little.

i'm sorry to those of you who only manage to keep tabs on me by reading my webpage... this current lack of interest will make things hard for you. i can only promise you that things will surely change in one way or another soon. there is a reason to write poetry again, but there are only certain eyes that it is written for.

there is no point in me sharing my world with people who don't know me as more than a browser window when i clearly do not spend enough time sharing it with the people who do. this is not an end. this is a new beginning.

while i'm gone.

for the next four days i will be in westchester, PA.  i paid over $350 to pretend to be in high school and get my ass kicked all week.  it's gonna rock.

in the mean time, i wanted to show you all a rough draft i did today.  this has been in me for quite some time... but i'm still wishy washy on how i want to write it all out.   i haven't gotten to writing out my backstory on this yet either, so anything you all think should be clarified, please let me know.  advice on shaping and anything, really, would be mad appreciated. 

sex·u·al frus·tra·tion
            n.

1.      The condition that results when an impulse or an action involving erotic desires is thwarted by an external or an internal force.
2.      Elizabeth Niemiec

 
On August 22, 2004, I will become a twenty-three year old virgin.  Depending on what your definition of sex is, of course.  True, I have not experienced vaginal penetration from a penis.  But I have been penetrated.  My body and my sexuality has been tasted, explored and indulged in… numerous times and with varying participants.

I consider myself to be more in touch with my sexuality that many “non-virgins” I know.  And sure, you can think me to be naïve or unaware… but this isn’t about what you think.  It’s about me.  And I have come to a point in my life where I am so sexually aggravated that I am seriously considering humping my flagpole.  This year’s band camp stories might take the cake… I’ll let you know.

Interesting masturbation techniques aside, I have had the most sexually unfulfilling year of my life… starting with the end of my first long-distance relationship.  So really, if you don’t count the handful of ridiculously good hook-up sessions with our codifying master, I have been having bad luck in the physical stimulation realm for almost 4 years.

Yep.  You read that correctly.  FOUR MOTHER FUCKING YEARS!!!!!!!!!!

I don’t understand why I had better luck with relationships in my youth (relatively speaking).  Maybe I was just stupider and more willing to overlook things.  Yes.  Get the eye rolling over with, but I have not been in a monogamous, romantic relationship with a man since my freshman year in college.  Since then all I have been doing is touching men in the dark hoping that when the light turns on there will be more there than just two bodies close to one another.

It hurts.  It hurts to be physically intimate with people whose minds are in other galaxies.  That’s why I have vowed to stop random hook ups.  But that isn’t the point.

I want to know how I got here.  At first, it was delicious that I was “pure” and “chaste”.  I had guys lined up to be the man who would welcome me into the world of flesh and fuck.  I was a prize.  A treasure.  Uncharted territory full of secrets beyond the wildest of imaginations.  I was told I would be such a great lover.  That I was so full of empathy, awareness, passion and rhythm.  Combined with my hips and lips, this was apparently a very deadly combination.

But over time, the line has lessened.  Serious inquiries are few; most are just there hanging onto a fantasy or memory.  Towards the back you find a few new faces, but they are just thankful to find someone else their age that they think to be as clueless, sexually, as they are.  The closer they get to the front of the line though, they soon figure out this is not the case, and usually end up fleeing out of fear.

I have recently come across multiple men who would not get into relationships with me because of my virginity.  “I’m not going to be responsible for popping anymore cherries” is usually the sentiment.  Now, I can understand this.  Being someone’s first is definitely something that is special.  If for no other reason except that you will always be remembered.  You will always be the first impression.  The opening act. 

But seriously… that’s fucked up if you don’t want to “deal” with being that special to me.  And-oh… wait a minute- who the fuck said you were going to pop mine?  Clearly if I have managed to avoid poppage prior to you, a little credit is due.  I don’t care how many girls you may have deflowered before… it’s just mean and limiting to assume that I will be a certain way.  That it will be a burden to you.  If I let you take on that burden.  How much more insulting can you get?  Fine… go ahead.  Miss out on what could be the best relationship of your life because you think you are above me.  I’m not bitter at all.

Firmly, I can say that whoever pops my cherry officially, will be a very important man in my life.  But he will be important way before the cherry thing ever comes into play.  To me, sex is a risk.  It is, plain and simply, the act of procreation.  Making babies.  Continuing the species.  All recreational purposes and perks aside, I don’t want to do that with anyone I wouldn’t have confidence in raising a child with.  So not only will the first man I have sex with be important… so will each and every man who EVER has sex with me.

I understand that there are things called birth control pills, shots and condoms and the like… but it’s not about the possibility of getting pregnant… it is the act of making a baby.  Using two to make one.  Whether the baby comes or not is not my concern. 

There are so few men that I want to share spit with, I can’t imagine sharing a child with anyone.  So my hormones need to chill the fuck out.  The heart is going to win over on this one.  I mean I’ve made it this far.  And it has been hard.  Literally.  I’ve just got to keep faith that there are people out there who feel similar to me… and who will want to share sex with me… even if it will be my first time. 

But believe me… when I do start having sex… I will be having lots of it.  Slow, sweet and beautiful to nasty, dirty and painful- I’m going to do it all. 
I’m just so sick of waiting.

on a sunday.

tired and slightly hung over, i have been sitting here in the same clothes i wore last night, smoking cigarettes halfway out the back door, creating the uber emo layout you now see before you.

i told you the changes were coming.  and i need to look the part.  get into character. 

well... more like... get out of character.

On a Sunday I think it through
On the drive back I think it through
What you wish for won't come true
Live with that, with that
And on a Sunday she thought it through

what i wished for this site has not come true.  maybe it will eventually... but it's not going to right now.  so i'm done.  and i can live with that.

hot, sweaty men in spandex.

incase you couldn't tell from the two pictures of the moment, i went to another professional wrestling event on monday night.  oh yes.  WWE RAW.

my heart is pumping faster just at the typing of the words. 

this was, by far, the best one i have been to.  not only were the seats kickass, but the matches were just awesome.  oh oh, and let's not forget my purchase of a Werd Life visor.

the roommates and i were all in great spirits, we had a nice dinner prior, no issues with the metro... good times all around.  hopefully, when i start acquiring income again, i'll actually be able to have more nights like this.

so i got another job.

::knocks on wood::

i'm not going to talk about this anymore until i actually start working there.  my previous pattern should signal me to shut up and not jinx anything right now.

so yeah.  but the interview went hella good and the scheduling will actually FIT with colorguard.  fingers crossed, por favor.

ok.  i'm done now.  i swear.

If you think this is a game then just walk away, baby.

But if you think that you can talk to me that way
I’ve already run off with yesterday
After hearing my love fall down with the rain
I can’t think of anything else to say
 
There is a constant throbbing of reevaluation that breathes deep inside of me.  Who I am, who you are, what is happening, what it means to me, what it means to you, how good does it feel and where can it lead. 
 
If I could press the pause button in my mind- just to sit for ONE moment.  Just ONE where I didn’t have to analyze it to death.  Where I didn’t shatter it into pieces... making it impossible for me to see what it was in the first place.
 
Oh I’d love that.
 
I’d breathe in slowly the scent of silence.  Hesitating on every little molecule of dirty carbon dioxide, letting them swim all around in my nose.  I’d stretch my arms out wide and close my eyes and release all the hurt I carry around between my breasts.  My lungs would heave with the pain and pleasure of the impending release.
 
The letters A and H have never been more beautiful than when placed next to each other.
 
 
Ahhhhh.........

and now. for an important announcement:

the process of cleaning up the site has begun... and i am almost positive a new layout will follow shortly.  i got too caught up in subpages and starting new things that i have slacked hardcore with the quality of my writing.   so yeah... it's time to refocus.

i actually managed to produce a quality post on the bitter club this morning... as well as my twilight for the day.  feel free to have a looksee. 
 
now it's off to celebrate my mommi's burfday in the hospital with my grandmother.  this will be LOADS of fun.  adios.

i had a dream last night

my brother and i are cleaning out the laundry room at my mother's house.  i'm going through a cabinet and look down to see a small snake slither across the floor.  i turn back to my right and see my brother, emerging from behind a pile of clothes, with a bunch of stuff hanging from his neck and in his hands.   it took me a moment to realize that they were dead snakes.   at least a dozen of them.  he began taunting me with the ones he held in his hands.  i don't remember being scared, just grossed out that so many snakes had lived, and died, in our basement. 

pretty weird, huh?  i remember freud talking about snakes being phallic symbols in dreams, especially those about to strike, representing hidden, guilty sexual desires.  i can't imagine interpreting this dream to mean that all my snakes are dead and limp... because that would just be depressing.  and i think my hormones might disagree slightly. 
 
so let us turn to some reliable, free, internet sources.
 
snake - An recurring issue that has not been resolved yet. Can involve treachery or sense of betrayal.
 
ok.  this could be anything... from my grandmother's health and the family dealings to my paranoia about men not being straight up with me. 
 
Snake
A snake, being the ages old symbol of evil or satan, makes it a bad omen to have one show up in a dream. To see a lone snake and feel threatened by it shows that you have a bad enemy that is even then working against you, it also a warning against bodily harm from an enemy. To dream of many snakes in a pit is the foreboding of much bad luck in love or business. Should you overcome and kill a threatening snake in your dream shows that you will overcome your adversary and win out.
 
excellent.  the single snake at the beginning of the dream apparently represents my mortal enemy plotting my demise.  i don't think that matt gives a rat's ass about me or the drama we went through together anymore, and he's  the only "enemy" i've ever really thought existed in my life.  well... not counting myself, of course.
and there WERE many snakes in my dream, but around my brothers neck.  not a pit.  let's be honest here... i'm not having good luck in love or in business, so i don't see how this bad omen should come at this point in time.
 
Snake
To see a snake or be bitten by one in your dream, signifies hidden fears and worries that are threatening you.  Your dream may be alerting you to something in your waking life that you are not aware of or that has not yet surfaced. The snake may also be seen as phallic and thus symbolize dangerous and forbidden sexuality. The snake may also refer to a person around you who is callous, ruthless, and can't be trusted. As a positive symbol, snakes represent transformation, knowledge and wisdom. It is indicative of self-renewal and positive changes.
 
now we are talking!  hidden fears and worries.  i have oodles of those.  i'm really worried about my grandma AND about my financial situation AND my romantic social life. 
and i did have a few revelations about those situations yesterday and this morning.  for example, i was just informed by my father that my grandmother is most likely going to have to be put in a home.  her physical health is totally fine... all of her symptoms are gone.  but her mental health has been on a downward spiral.  the last three days she has been in the hospital have really been hard to deal with.  i can't even think about it without my hands shaking. 
the forbidden sexuality aspect makes sense too.  i have met a few new people and am trying to balance out my desire to get to know them with my desire to just get to know them biblically.
this person who can't be trusted could be one of these men... and that doesn't help out my paranoia any.
and hey, all of this could lead to some positive growth and change, right?
 
hey... a girl can dream, can't she?
 
ok.  i'm sorry.  that was a REALLY bad pun.

so there's this girl i know. she's 5'4". okay. she's 5'3 and 3/4".

she has the hootspa that people like to think i have.  but the difference is that she really does have it.  and she has it openly. 
 
this girl has never, ever made me feel anything but positive.  about anything and everything. whether it be about my latest hang up, my latest crush or just my inability to make decisions in social situations.... she has a way of casually reminding me just how much i love to be who i am.    
 
and while i might only be an acquaintance to her... she is the kind of friend that people spend their  whole lives wishing that their other friends were like.
 
 
 
 
i hope that she'll still be able to see me smiling and waving when she's over on the other side of the world.  

twilight tune-up:

twilight is buzzing and i finally changed the comments so you can post them anonymously. so please check out what we are writing over there and let us know what you think! AND i'm always on the look out for new people to join us. it's really simple... there is a word... you write a stream of consciousness response... then you post it.

it's great for getting the fingers loose and the brain over writer's block. plus it's fun. so yeah. i guess that's all. you all aren't very commenty as of late, and i blame myself. i know my updates have not been very thought provoking.

i'm workin on the funk. i really am.

not as random as one might like to think.

I like the mark my watch leaves  on my face...  when I fall asleep in places I shouldn't.

Summers are really just extended periods of reunions.  No one has anything to do... so you end up seeing and doing things with people you normally are too busy for.
 
Some people, though... they aren't ever, really, busy.  They get kinda elitist when you suddenly come around again.  You know them... the slackers. 
 
I admire the slackers.  This is probably why I am doing my damnedest to assimilate.  And while, if I do say so myself, my front is extraordinary... deep down I just don't have the heart.  I don't have what it takes to do it up right.  Or do it down right.  Depending how you look at it.
 
But I am reminded of this when seeing some of the superstar slackers of my past.  Still slackin.  Keepin it real.  It's refreshing in a way I didn't expect it to be.  I talked to two of my childhood chum neighbor people yesterday.  I've been seeing a lot of the old Muddy B crew.  I want to continue discussing this issue but we should interrupt for an important announcement:
 
My grandmother went back into the hospital today.  She has phenomena again.
 
Cue momentary awkward pause. 
 
On the plus side... this gives me more time to rot in the G'burg area.  Maybe we'll get a glimpse of coffee boy again.  Which reminds me... I still owe you guys part three:  FRIDAY
 
I know.  The suspense must be hard to deal with.  tootles! 

I sit back and stare at this screen with a new sense of duty... my wide-eyed curiosity renewed.

I have been reminded of all the mysteries that lurk behind these keys. And that only my fingers can pound them out.



... I have found a muse ...



A muse that snores, has a receding hairline and smokes like a chimney.

He’s beautiful and I wish you could see him.

3:33pm. Thursday.

"You are late for our meeting."

Gulp.

After setting down her bag and portfolios, getting her drink and returning outside... this time on the left... he met her eyes again.

"What did I miss?"

"Well I can't just tell you... then you'd never come to the meetings."

This time he and her acquaintance were already joined in a threesome with another man. An old stalker of hers.

She opened up the green notebook and took out a clipboard with blank pages on it. she began going through the stack of papers, looking for a page she had been working on.

"So what is this arts and crafts thing you are doing?"

Twenty minutes later she had explained to him her project of the moment. Her heart. Her soul. The only thing giving her any sort of excitement these days.

And he listened. He smiled. He read.

But then again, so did her ex-stalker. He asked if he could contribute... that the world needed to hear him confess his love for her.

She prayed to the back of her head that she fielded the inquiry with the appropriate level of sarcasm and disdain, and turned her attention back to him. And his eyes. Hovering over her words.

She flew away, leaving her flip flops on the ground.

sumbuddy buy me this so i can fly away.

... or at least pretend to.

last night i found myself floundering.

i was disappointed that i wasn't somewhere else. not an imaginary "anywhere else" kind of thing... a concrete, actual, other place to be. and it would have been really fun and cool, too. but, as usual, i just spent the evening poking around on my computer, listening to acoustic emo feel sorry for yourself crap.

i almost feel dumb for thinking that i wouldn't end up there. that is like... my home now. lonely, poopie and on the internet after 12pm.

i get these random little farts of hope just every so often enough to keep me up and giddy and functioning. like drugs, almost. but then i realize... too late... after i have already come back down from the momentary high... that it's really just hot air blowing out of my ass.

over the last few weeks i have come upon several new "he" prospects... but nothing more than cutsie little stories with no real plot (like the one posted below) has come out of them.

it's like blue balls for my romantic sappiness. if that makes any sort of sense. and to be honest.. it really IS starting to hurt.

so for the sake of not being redundant... i'm just not going to post about lonely poopiness anymore.

so uhh... don't be surprised if you don't hear from me ever again.

12:33pm. Wednesday.

She turned off her subs, lowered the volume of her stereo, finished singing along with mr. mayer and pulled her keys out of the ignition. Her black flip-flops met the parking lot and carried her to the entrance of starbux. she surveyed the tables, chairs and green umbrellas on either side of the front door with her eyes safely hidden behind her sunglasses.

there. on the left. white t-shirt. faded jeans. black work boots.

she only saw the top of his head, as he was looking down at the paper below his right hand... but felt her shoulders automatically lower and her neck lengthen. her gut was suddenly drawn to the back of her spine and her steps changed. lighter. slower. he didn't look up as she passed into the store.

she ordered an iced latte and shmoozed with a barista she didn't recognize. a newbie. amanda.

after adding sugar and spilling some of her drink on her right thigh, she stepped back outside. she held with her two plastic portfolios- one neon green, one hot-shot blue. she looked to her left and saw nothing but empty seats. she didn't see any shade. she looked back to her right and saw the only haven her pale skin had from the sun... right next to him at his table.

her confidence pushed her feet towards him, but her insecurities pulled her passed him and his shade to a table his back was towards.

"ugh..." she mumbled as she settled herself. feet up on the chair. friendship bracelet hook around her toe.

a half an hour passes, and she has listened to him converse on his phone, let him listen to her on her phone, and watched him smoke a marlboro red while scribbling on that same paper. she has switched from the friendship bracelet to cutting out different clippings from the Washington Post Magazine.

The homeless woman approached from across the parking lot. She had with her a coin, valued at $1,100. she asked both of them if they were interested in purchasing it.

She could honestly say that she didn't have that kind of money. Being unemployed did have its benefits. Before the woman left she bummed a cigarette from him.

His face was now turned towards her. She locked eyes with him for the first time and nearly fell backwards out of her seat. His eyes were a piercing, icy blue.

"Now she's going to expect a cigarette every time she sees me. What was she trying to sell us?"

"A coin. For $1,100."

Not exactly the conversation she had played out in her mind for the last 30 minutes... but he DID break the silence between them.

another half hour goes by. When her long-time acquaintance shows up... she is thrilled to learn that he knows both of them, and soon the conversation is a threesome.

Who knows what was said. all she remembers is that it started.

wallflowers

we begin this dance slowly.
in a large group of people...
making the phermonal excitement hard to interpret.

in time the sources of lust, love and the imagination in-between show themselves.

and then we fantasize...
wondering if the other is wondering.
hoping that this is not yet another idealistic notion that we have created inside of our heads.

sometimes we grow bolder.
making side steps that are minimal and unclear at best.
they come out of rhythm...
jagged and unsure.

so really you just end up with a bunch of dancers without partners.
merely trying to embrace the beat.

we call on dances we used to do.
remembering old dance partners.

longing for the beauties of not dancing alone...
but scared of being pushed up against the wall again.
and then taking root.

blooming there...
where no one notices.

and then before we know it.
the song is over.

and we have to start all over again.

what's cold and white and falling slightly to the left?

a snowflake with no sense of direction.

... get your minds out of the gutter.

sink your teeth in slow...
deliberate-like.

make sure you can taste that texture on your tongue.
if you don't make a point to...
you won't remember this moment at all.

stretch out each piece like strings
pulling hard
leaving marks.

scars will help you remember too.

empty out each memory
dump it into jung's collective
and watch them all swim away

you think maybe...
maybe they will find someone who will understand
what the point is
what they all mean

but then
then you selfishly hope
that you won't be left alone now...
in this shadow you have built for yourself.

in this howling, however...
all you can hear is the sound of your own mistakes
banging against every wall
lighting up your regrets

over. and over again.
even though you DO remember saying
that you HAD no regrets.

but at that point it really doesn't matter
... does it?

proving you wrong ... one lie at a time

so i'm in gaithersburg again all this week (that's why i still haven't been posting much). for some odd reason, i get really introverted and weird when i stay at my mom's for long periods of time.

but let's not go there right now.

lots of people i know are breaking up. it's kinda scary. summer flings are supposed to last the WHOLE summer. i guess if they suck that bad, though... you want to get rid of them so you can find a new one right quick. party party and all that jazz. seriously, though... good luck to all of you who are hurting right now. try to appreciate it for what it was, learn and grow from your experiences.

and yeah it's easy for me to say all that crap, but i say it to myself when i'm in a tight spot too. so ::raspberry::

there is just something about jordan from NFG's annoying punk-boi voice that just makes me tingle. still. i'll never forget that concert at the church back during my freshman year of college. man. that's where i heard dashboard for the first time too. and both groups... blown up out the ass now. kudos to them. even if it isn't the same anymore.

so i think i might have met a new he. more news on that as it develops. send some good luck vibes my way, though.

AND i have finally caved, people. i'm calling a temp agency tomorrow. hopefully i'll work my ass off the last three weeks in july and then jump head first into the guard season. that is... unless i can swindle a free trip to westchester. oh flag camp... how i sweat thee.

i think i might go outside now and try to hang out with my ghetto neighbors. then i'll come back later and write some poetry.

hold me to that shit, ok?!

bubbles

it's a shame how fast bubbles pop.

and how ugly everything is when they do.


maryland has come crashing back... hitting me square in my figurative balls. all the bull crap. the stress. the people here that i'm afraid to admit i was hiding from.


the seemingly impossibleness that is trying to create for a living. the utter hopelessness of somehow acquiring enough money to function without compromising myself and my life. the overwhelming self doubt and insecurities that are only made worse by the presence of males you know don't think of you in that way. the jealousy and envy clouding my love for the people in my life who genuinely smile when they describe how things are going for them.

well FUCK YOU, bubble! fuck you for popping... but fuck you more for engulfing me in just another illusion that isn't real. just something else for me to be disappointed in.

i'm so pissed off at my attitude right now. i am not listening to myself whine and complain and dig deeper into this hole.

i'm building my own damn bubble. and no one gets to pop it unless i say so.

long time comin.

so... i'm back in maryland. home sweet home and all that. my trip to connecticut was just so great for my head and my heart and my stress levels. i don't really want to talk much about it except to say that i really wish i could have stayed forever.

but i couldn't and i didn't so there is no more dwelling. i came home with a head full of braids and a mind full of longing. i capitalized on the situation by going out with a bunch of friends on friday night and then having a "small gathering" at my house on saturday.

thanx to everyone who made my homecoming the event i needed it to be. even with the dirty hippie lesbian jokes.

but now it's a rainy fourth of july and i don't really want to go out. i don't really want to watch anymore tv. and i definitely don't want to drink.

i think i'm just going to go for a jog around sunset and watch the sky light up. i've always wanted to be a firework.

happy independence day. i'll be celebrating my freedom to not celebrate.

I am sort of mad at myself that I am not taking the opportunity to write while I am in Connecticut.

The sort of is because that I need a time out from the internest I have built for myself. And I need to let the creative juices get recharged and overflowing again.

But I am having such a good time here… I feel like I should be documenting it.

So like I said… I’m sort of mad.

For those of you out of the loop (which would be all of you except my bro, my cousins and their friends), the reason I am still in Connecticut is because I quit the advertising job and needed to prolong the inevitable doom of going back to my unemployed routine again. I haven’t heard back from them at all either… so that’s a good sign that they hate me. And that doesn’t exactly make me feel fuzzy.

But I digress.

I have made a commitment to myself and admitted it to one of my roommates about a week or so ago. I feel as though I should share this with all of you so when I go back on it you can scold me.

I am not going to randomly hook up with anyone again.

Hold on, sillies… I don’t mean EVER again. But I do mean until I actually go on a date or two and actually envision a REAL (as opposed to an imagined and painfully idealistic and unpossible) chance of a deeper relationship with someone.

A conversation I had last night with one of my hook-upers opened up a window on how empty and bored I am with physical attraction. It just makes me sad now. Because I know and appreciate how amazing being physically close with someone is… but also know how much better it could be with that mental closeness too. So instead of a physical release… all I get is a reminder about the hole I’m in mentally.

So yeah. No more hookups. Dates. Yes. I WILL go on dates.

Daily affirmations can work. Right?

::neener neener::

i don't hafta post shit because i'm hiding out in connecticut.

and i don't think i'm coming back.

ever.

... or at least until thursday.

I bet I could be setting a record here.

Liz met Joe. Joe met Liz. Joe wondered how on earth Liz got called back for a second round interview with no marketing or accounting experience, no management experience with a staff greater than 10, and a degree in a completely unrelated field.

Liz chuckled and thought, “Because Liz kicks ass.”

Soon, Joe came to realize that Liz kicked ass. He became comfortable and goofy, and the day turned into one long insult fight instead of a training interview.

Matt, Joe’s teammate for the day also noticed that Liz kicked ass. Matt bought Liz water and made fun of her sunburn. Liz had the final laugh, though. Matt left his keys in his ignition all day long and his battery died. Liz found a guy with jumper cables.

Matt even tried to display his superior music taste and knowledge when testing Liz on Jay-Z’s Black Album.

We’ve all got 99 problems but a bitch ain’t one. Except Matt, of course. Matt’s got girl problems and Liz feels bad for you, son. THEN Matt had the nerve to try to play the same song again. Liz calmly called him a poseur, single-loving, teenie-bopper groupie.

Liz won.

When back at the office, Liz was toyed with by the other staff members. Liz was ok with this because they were all hot, young males. Apparently men are drawn more to advertising.

Joe asked Liz to fill out a questionnaire… and then proceeded to sneak her the correct answers. Liz had not been nervous since about noon.

But then Joe brought Liz outside and with a solemn look on his face he told me to get the fuck inside and go on to my third round interview.

Liz was caught up in an adrenaline rush. Eric was sly and sarcastic in the final interview, asking me about health insurances (Liz did used to work in a doctor’s office, you know). Eric then said that he wasn’t sure about hiring Liz and that it would be left up to Joe.

Eric left the room. Liz smiles.

Joes walks in and is told to congratulate Liz. Hugs and high fives abound.

Liz gets home. Has excellent steak and chicken dinner cooked by her lovely wife, Dorothy. Friends come over in honor of Liz’s employment.

Liz opens her day planner. Liz sees all of the events she has scheduled with family, friends and the guards. Liz suddenly realizes that a full time job that ends at 7pm daily would not be conducive to all of these previous commitments.

Liz wants to die inside.

Priority me this and priority that… Liz has made her decision already. The question really is, how do you quit a job before you even start?

"do you think she's wearing a bra? because she is jiggling a lot."

that's my dad.

happy daddi's day.

filler

you are the cute but psycho happy bunny. You
adorable, but a little out there. It's alright,
you might not have it all, but there are worse


which happy bunny are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

thanx, stacy poo

it wasn't love

... it was just an idea.

the hope of something different
something special
something new

i fell in love
with the idea... of you.

it was never
just a hook up for me
more like a secret,
indulgent mystery

your body
offended me, it was so cocky
your eyes
stayed close the entire time

were you scared to see
something less than your idea of me?

it wasn't love... it was just an idea.
the hope of something different
something special
something new

i fell in love
with the idea... of you.

hey liz.

soooooooooo, i had an interview yesterday.

posh advertising company. totally not my scene. if it weren't for the "no experience necessary" and the "non-profit organizations" they promote.

so i roll on up to baltimore for a preliminary. i walk in the room and start to chit chat with the guy at the reception desk. mention how gross and humid it is. talk about how i wish i could be wearing jeans. i even cussed in front of this guy.

i sit down in a waiting room with what looks like a young republicans meeting. powersuits and stilletos out the ass. greasy ponytails, pulled back tight at the base of their neck (parted on the side, of course). leather briefcases oozing with resumes and references and pseudo important paperwork.

and me... with my frizzy hair, borrowed skirt, tame heels, simple black short-sleeved shirt covered in cat hair, my biker messenger bag and my neon blue plastic folder containing nothing put my resume.

so i sit there trying to bullshit with a tom cruise look-a-like and some overly aggressive bitch from Pitt. it doesn't work. i make jokes about the stuffy environment and say that i should have gone for the warehouse job instead, all the while making eyecontact with reception guy.

i sit there for an hour. watching all of the just graduated big shot kids file in and out of the back office. but receptionist guy is gone. lunch break, i guess.

imagine my (lack of) surprise when karma showed her face. i'm called back into another office to lock eyes with who? yeah. receptionist guy. HE'S doing the interviews.

"Please... call me Liz."
"Lemme guess, you don't like Elizabeth."
"No, I do... I just have that automatic 'i'm in trouble' reaction whenever someone calls me that."

i was blushing so hard at that moment words cannot express the heat coming from my face. ick sweaty hands. quick! rub them off on your skirt before the handshake!!

ugh. at this point i figure that i have blown any shot i had. so decide to just put away my game and try not to combust from embarrassment and lack of professionalism.

i make a joke about how badly i need health insurance. and about how the only reason i even considered this job was because of the non-profits. he mentioned some of their other clients like NASCAR and i almost fall out of my chair laughing because my roommates would shit themselves if i get to work with the hotties. Jamie McMurry much? ::insert hot fantasy here::

focus, liz.

"tonight from 5-7 we will be calling 3 or 4 people back for all day training interviews."

i think to myself that there are over 30 people comin through. this is his pity coming out to let me know i was not going to be picked.

i tell him my best quality is my openness. second best is my creativity and energy. i don't want to be behind a cubicle. i want to be working with people.

he asks me if i mind travel. HA! mind????

i get up to leave.

"good luck with everything if i don't hear from you."
"thank you, liz."

exit. stage left.

i try to distract myself from the rest of the afternoon at the starbux in colombia i am applying to. the manager and i clicked well. explained that i was waiting on a few leads, but that i'd love to work some part time opening shifts. she was all about it.

at least something good came of the day.

i went home, ate. watched singles. damnit i need to stop romantic comedies. seriously. they are NOT good for my heart. make a tennis date with a few friends for 7pm.

sit and try to pretend i'm not waiting for the phone to ring.

5pm.

5:15pm.

5:30pm.

5:32pm.

nothing.

i get up. start coloring with crayons (i'll post pix real soon). i got lost in the picture, because at 6pm when the phone rang i almost didn't get up to see who it was. i usually don't even bother with the house phone.

after the longest 30 seconds of my life, it clicks that MAYBE i would want to take a look.

"Hi Liz."

"Heh. Thanks for remembering."

"Congratulations."

if i've said this before, i apologize.
but sometimes redundancy helps to get the point across.

if there is one thing in the world that can ruin a friendship...

it's genitals.


we do stupid things to people we love in the name of genitals. it is amazing how the priorities change as soon as some idealistic notion of romance comes waltzing in attached to a fine looking vagina.

there should be two scales of importance in this world. "sans genitals" and "woo woo areas."
and one should alert the masses when a change from one scale to the other occurs. it's the least you can do.

it's hard to accept that your place on one scale is much different from your place on the other. especially when the move is a downward one.

i just hope it's worth it, boys and girls. because, well... i clearly wouldn't know.

dr. atkins is rolling over in his grave

mad props to MariB for this one...

i really couldn't have summed up my opinion on the subject better than this.

people are always looking for a fix. someone else to do the work/thinking for them. i fall victim to it too... i mean even blogger is a nice cheat for publishing a website.

but this is YOUR HEALTH we are talking about people.
i am no saint on this subject... but i live how i like and eat what i want and realize how it will affect my body. and i'm pretty damn proud of that.

and i'm also pretty damn proud of the fact that i can eat bread and pasta and beer that actually tastes like beer.

go carbs!

this is where the love is.

right fucking here.

i tell you... i've never been knocked so hard on my ass.

seriously. that just made my life complete.

all this time i've been searching so hard for a man... turns out between my dad and my brother... there really isn't much room left.

who knew?

i do NOT accept, thank YOU very much.

courtney love has mad anger issues. i think she should change her name to courtney hate. i mean she's tainting one of my favorite words. unacceptable. and don't even get me started on her husband.

speaking of bitches, this J-Lo and Mark Anthony thing WAS cute... until they started comparing her to the REAL sex mommas of the world (Liz Taylor and Zsa Zsa). UNacceptable!

has anyone heard anything about the new reality tv show that is american idolish? the winner gets to tour with the rock band "in access" (who?) as their front man/lead singer person. if it isn't completely ridiculous and they are casting locally... i think i might just hafta try.

i'm serious.

traffic around here has gotten OUT of control. it is simply not cute anymore. every single time i have had to travel on the beltway in the past two weeks i have spent over 40 minutes on the damn thing. and again... UNACCEPTABLE!! i'm seriously going to start metroing everywhere.

especially after the day i had today...

warning: not really worth the read

i worked my kids hard today. worked myself harder. the legs hurt. but i think it is worth it because my quad muscles are really becoming more defined. they kinda match my calves now. one of the girls called me a powerhouse. made me blush.

last night my brother and i went out to dinner (just the two of us!!) and then i set the doode up with his very own blog. don't hate right away, people... he's just getting started.

i just finished my cover letter for a job i'm applying for. it's a motivational speaker for high school groups. i even had to send a 5 minute video of me speaking. that was quite interesting trying to get that done with my roommates. they helped me out HUGE. i think i've got a shot. fingers crossed.

i'm sorry this post is crap. i'm just tired and unpoetic right now. don't want to think about grammar anymore. am sick of trying to sell myself on paper to people. have hallucinations of spinning objects all over the place.

tomorrow i get to go to constitution hall for a graduation right in the middle of the Reagan DC mess. that will rock. maybe that will give me a story to write about. yes.

and as an end note... it really pisses me off that blogger's spellcheck thinks "blog" is a misspelled word.

i made a girl cry today.

a girl that i have made laugh and smile before. a girl i let into my world. a girl who let me help her open the doors into hers. but now i am afraid that because of the decisions made... she will slam those doors shut again. this time barring and locking them.

it may not seem like such a big thing to anyone else. but she found a home in winterguard. and we took it all away.

... all because we needed an even number.

this ain't no pool for swimmin in

last night i had a dream that i was at my childhood playground with a bunch of my old crew growing up. people were at the pool, but i was pushing a little girl on the swings and taking pix of her. then my first real boyfriend ever came rolling down on his skateboard. to this day my heart still skips a beat when i hear the sound of the wheels clicking over the cracks in the sidewalk.

but he and i start talking and there is this urgency for us to leave. and we walk to my backyard and sit on the patio. and this is where it gets bad, folks. he talks about his life... what's going on with him... all of his problems and how he's turning himself around (i know like i haven't heard this shit before)... but he means it. he's sincere and genuine and he's confessing his love for me and he kisses me. the sun goes down around us and when we open our eyes it is dark and it starts to lightly rain.

i felt what being in love was like again.

this is SO PITIFUL. i have a problem with leaning on my past relationships to get me through lonely periods. i consider them safe and comforting and i hang on to them when NOTHING is there anymore.

i know this is because my current pool of options is ALL dried out. i can't even stretch anymore. i can't settle for drum guy because we don't really speak, my fantasy hook up partner turned in a piss-poor performance and shattered any hope of that, my ex and i are not on good terms after our "deep" discussion that night, don't even get me started on the married men, or the gay men, and i don't even have and internet crush!!!!

whine whine bitch bitch whatever. i'm going to go fold laundry and then go to guard practice. since everyone thinks i'm going to end up a spinster anyway, i might as well get started on acting like one.

BAH!

This storm is brewin' just for you, bebi

well, well, well...

my two colorguards are off to a roaring start with tryouts. it's nice to already have the entire month of august booked up with band camp schedules. i might also be going away to Westchester, PA under-cover again the last week in july.

oh the hotness.

AND i finalized plans to visit the fam up in connecticut in 2 weeks (AMY AND STACY IF YOU GET YOUR CRAP TOGETHER WE COULD GET WINGS AND BEER!!!!). i am uber excited about this trip. it will be my brother and i all on our own. i predict either major bonding or major fighting. maybe both. yeah. both.

this leaves me with a scattered 6 weeks of summer to get some sort of income before i can commit to a full time job anywhere.

i cannot believe i am actually admitting this... but i was considering starbux.

i know, i know. shut up.


aside from that, i'm just busy doing a lot of shmoozing at the graduation parties of my high school kids. the food is free and the idle chit-chat is actually quite helpful for my networking.

ok. i need to get my sleeping patterns back to some sort of normalcy. goodnight, my loves.

lost in a conversation i have yet to have.

i superglue
my feelings for you
in an effort
to make them stick.

dropped down from a ceiling
that was way too high
we fell tumbling overnight,
long ago and far away

this time you didn't ask me to stay.

and now my mind is set
on a conversation that hasn't happened yet.
i'm aching for someone new
who reminds me--just enough--of you.

oh to be that cliche
sitting in a coffee shop just
wasting away

over words
written down instead of heard
kept inside
instead of given to the world

watching everyone else
instead of looking at myself

wondering
what special things
they all have inside
and if they're anything
like mine

i watch him through
window reflections
secretly showering him
with my eyes' affections.

if only you boys paid more
attention
and weren't so damn scared of
rejection.

i'd write your love poems for you...
and then i'd read them to myself

my way with words has its
way with me
and i fall in love with
what could be

have i ever "fucked" for "fuck's" sake?

well... yes.

but i can't say as though i've ever been able to get sexually intimate with someone that i didn't have thoughts about creating a romantic relationship with. i have not been able to separate the cloud of romanticism from the storm of sexual desire.

ever.

and i don't know if i'm ok with that.


... are you?

sky scraper ... plastic or paper?

on this cold and empty page
i dump my shallow and self-inflicted rage
scribbling away
the hurt that i put there...
in the first place

we jump eagerly
into the fiction that you-
so tenderly
pull from far away into view

i don't remember what urgency feels like
kisses are careless
lacking love... as well as life

blasted hotel harlot
screaming away at sex that no one can hear

so damaged
for control
so desperate
for soul

super model skinny?
this girl ain't no
thin lizzi.

shoot...

book club revamp:

ok... so it's taken me a little while to figure out exactly what i want to do with this. after our second meeting (all 2 and 1/2 of us)... i'm figuring that the rest of you all are just full of shit. you all have great hopes and aspirations of being involved, but when it comes down to it, none of you will take the time or the effort.

and that's cool. i understand. i'm not mad or anything... or at least i'm trying not to be. maybe the arrival of summer, the season of free time, will enable some of you to take the plunge.

but either way, i've decided that i am just going to taylor this to my own desires with reading. i'm not into book "reviews." feels too much like homework. so i'm just gonna write up a collection of excerpts from each of the books that i found particularly brilliant and some of my own little reactions/brain farts or research that have stemmed from them. it'll be good for us quote collectors.

::wink wink::

the only setback to this is that it takes a while to type everything up. so here is what i have so far. i may keep adding to it, i may not. i'm not trying to pressure myself.

i still plan on having the monthly discussions because if nothing else, it will be a chance for k@ and i to chat about whatever. i want to thank her and moe for their participation and energy in regards to this whole thing. because it would have been very hard for me to keep trying without you two.

with that, our pick for the next book is The Five People You Meet in Heaven, by Mitch Albom. we both read his first book, Tuesdays With Morrie and enjoyed it. so why not... it's pretty short.

Due Date? June 20. Discussion 6pm until we get bored.

seemingly pointless

last night was one of those nights where the timing was just off. i missed phone calls i didn't want to miss, i tried to hang out with people who were already busy, i chose to stick around and wait before getting lonely and bitter and pissed that there was so much to do but that i wasn't doing anything.

i would say that it was my monthly emotional overload... but that's at least a week away.

i saw his truck outside of my pub. i couldn't go in.
they went out, knowing that i was waiting for their call, without me.
i called them back, but they didn't answer.

so i drove around listening to ben harper. then i had a frozen strawberry margarita pity party and fell asleep watching rules of attraction.

no wonder i dreamed about bad sex.