Monday, December 14, 2009
I dont wanna die pretty
I don't want to be beautiful, pretty, cute, hott, sexy, gorgeous, stunning, adorable, ageless, timeless, I don't want to be any of it.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Winter becomes me
I love winter, I love the cold air, it is forever cleansing, confronting, asserting, pushing, revealing, romantically depressing.
I want to live in Vermont, Maine, Canada. '
I want to live in Vermont, Maine, Canada. '
Goodbye skinny love
I paid you to be mine, you never needed to ask for anything because I was always giving it to you.
Your eyes always told our story, our lungs kept in all the details, in our cars we were always screaming the lyrics to saves the day songs, in our cars we were always screaming or crying or fucking. Their were late liquored down nights, crashing on friends couches, you would creep into their houses, you would sneak into the room I was sleeping in and steal my affection. I'd lay my swampy head down and wake up in your arms, spend a whole morning indulging in an illusion of love, you were always stealing my mornings, you were always stealing me away.
You were always hungry, you were never eating. You were always asking for food, but all you would do is pick at it with your fork. You had a plate of chicken and rice, you made a face. You were always asking for a drink but all you would do is smell the flavor. You would work a room, you would work it all night, with just one smelly glass. You were always hungry for me, you were always thirsty, you were never really with me.
You were always showing up and never staying.
I did not need to say goodbye because you were never really here.
Good luck in Colorado.
Your eyes always told our story, our lungs kept in all the details, in our cars we were always screaming the lyrics to saves the day songs, in our cars we were always screaming or crying or fucking. Their were late liquored down nights, crashing on friends couches, you would creep into their houses, you would sneak into the room I was sleeping in and steal my affection. I'd lay my swampy head down and wake up in your arms, spend a whole morning indulging in an illusion of love, you were always stealing my mornings, you were always stealing me away.
You were always hungry, you were never eating. You were always asking for food, but all you would do is pick at it with your fork. You had a plate of chicken and rice, you made a face. You were always asking for a drink but all you would do is smell the flavor. You would work a room, you would work it all night, with just one smelly glass. You were always hungry for me, you were always thirsty, you were never really with me.
You were always showing up and never staying.
I did not need to say goodbye because you were never really here.
Good luck in Colorado.
Friday, December 4, 2009
what might have been lost dont bother me
Shepard from my dark nights, you were a bright light.
Angel sent from the terror of my brain, you were a gift.
"I begged God to have another chance with you"
"Were you on your knees?" I wanted to get the picture right. Was he burying his face in his hands, weeping hysterically, body pressed against his ash stained carpet screaming out to some empathetic force? Or was he lying on his couch, exhaling a foolish plea, "I need her to save me, please give me another chance."
"Are you begging now or are you too ashamed?"
"I can't go down the same path again" His answer.
"Well you're heading in the same direction by even calling me"
I am in a dark tunnel
you, the opening, the liberation from the pain that has hardened inside of my head
I am nothing without your help
"You have confused me with the sanity that exists inside of you, you have confused me with God."
"No, no, no, no, no. Its just that I know how to be clean with you. It is a lot easier to be clean with you, its just that we need to be together, you need me too. You need me too."
You? A hell sent fallen angel to me.
You? A serpent lover
You? A locust invasion in my beautiful world.
"Their isnt much left to say between the two of us, it is time to say goodbye, goodbye."
"No, no, no, no. KELLY, no."
Angel sent from the terror of my brain, you were a gift.
"I begged God to have another chance with you"
"Were you on your knees?" I wanted to get the picture right. Was he burying his face in his hands, weeping hysterically, body pressed against his ash stained carpet screaming out to some empathetic force? Or was he lying on his couch, exhaling a foolish plea, "I need her to save me, please give me another chance."
"Are you begging now or are you too ashamed?"
"I can't go down the same path again" His answer.
"Well you're heading in the same direction by even calling me"
I am in a dark tunnel
you, the opening, the liberation from the pain that has hardened inside of my head
I am nothing without your help
"You have confused me with the sanity that exists inside of you, you have confused me with God."
"No, no, no, no, no. Its just that I know how to be clean with you. It is a lot easier to be clean with you, its just that we need to be together, you need me too. You need me too."
You? A hell sent fallen angel to me.
You? A serpent lover
You? A locust invasion in my beautiful world.
"Their isnt much left to say between the two of us, it is time to say goodbye, goodbye."
"No, no, no, no. KELLY, no."
Monday, November 23, 2009
a personification poem
I come, swiftly out of the dark night
Greeted by organic life, sweating November rain
Pregnant with hallmark expectations
An apple pie latte purring in my hands
Driving to work, greeting customers, gardening my daily obligations
You, a crash interruption, an unlovely surprise
You, malignantly tripping my walking words,
I panic for an assertion
Yanking at any remnants of a self constitution
Mouth unopened, violent convictions unspoken
You, binging and purging on my bare breasts
You, voiding all my vindications
Abusing my soul until I am dry
Left to clinge to the devils arms
But without salvation from the penetrator
I retreat solomonly into the dark night once again
Greeted by organic life, sweating November rain
Pregnant with hallmark expectations
An apple pie latte purring in my hands
Driving to work, greeting customers, gardening my daily obligations
You, a crash interruption, an unlovely surprise
You, malignantly tripping my walking words,
I panic for an assertion
Yanking at any remnants of a self constitution
Mouth unopened, violent convictions unspoken
You, binging and purging on my bare breasts
You, voiding all my vindications
Abusing my soul until I am dry
Left to clinge to the devils arms
But without salvation from the penetrator
I retreat solomonly into the dark night once again
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Suicide Note
This morning I woke up to the sound of my roommate Blossom purring. She is getting a lengthy massage by Dan, one of our masters. This is how every new day greets me, someone elses display of love and affection. I walk into the kitchen for some breakfast, surprise, surprise Blossom has already devoured our morning chow. Barbara our other master rushes on by "meow, meow" she kicks me in the gut, pushing me outside.
Growling stomach and the cold New England morning smacks me across the face. I pray on some birds crowded around the bird feeder but even with a set up this easy I am too slow, too uncunning, to stupid to catch any between these clumsy paws. Large and awkward, I am no scary predator, just another tree in the yard, the birds don't see me, they aren't scared. They just keep on pecking and filling their bellies.
Their is a dead mouse underneath the car, Blossom must have begun her hunting early this morning, I gobble it right up, only ever always tasting someone elses success. With something in my stomach I can sleep, I curl up right underneath Barbaras ford tire and hope for the worst. No luck when I wake up half a day later. The rotting mouse turning in my stomach, I throw up in the yard, and meow at the back door. Dan lets me in, Blossom squeezes out.
Dan trips over my tail, spills the hot tea kennel all over his foot and my body. He screams loud words that hurt my ears worse then the burn and kicks me hard, back outside. Blossom licking her paws in the porch snickers at my despair.
That is when I notice the garage is open. This ought to be fool proof. I stretch my body across the garage door, laying just below the sensor. I close my eyes and try to imagine what my mother might have been like. Strong and beautiful, licking my head, and stroking my fur. She purrs so loud inside my head it drowns out the sound of the garage door closing, she squeezes me so tight I die.
Growling stomach and the cold New England morning smacks me across the face. I pray on some birds crowded around the bird feeder but even with a set up this easy I am too slow, too uncunning, to stupid to catch any between these clumsy paws. Large and awkward, I am no scary predator, just another tree in the yard, the birds don't see me, they aren't scared. They just keep on pecking and filling their bellies.
Their is a dead mouse underneath the car, Blossom must have begun her hunting early this morning, I gobble it right up, only ever always tasting someone elses success. With something in my stomach I can sleep, I curl up right underneath Barbaras ford tire and hope for the worst. No luck when I wake up half a day later. The rotting mouse turning in my stomach, I throw up in the yard, and meow at the back door. Dan lets me in, Blossom squeezes out.
Dan trips over my tail, spills the hot tea kennel all over his foot and my body. He screams loud words that hurt my ears worse then the burn and kicks me hard, back outside. Blossom licking her paws in the porch snickers at my despair.
That is when I notice the garage is open. This ought to be fool proof. I stretch my body across the garage door, laying just below the sensor. I close my eyes and try to imagine what my mother might have been like. Strong and beautiful, licking my head, and stroking my fur. She purrs so loud inside my head it drowns out the sound of the garage door closing, she squeezes me so tight I die.
Friday, November 6, 2009
i want to eat toast, i eat the toast, then i am pissed i even wanted the toast
Connecticut winter is rolling in, its 48 degrees outside. I longed for the cold, I am glad it has arrived. I wanna shiver and cross my arms, I wanna see the energy of my breath in the air, my body longs to be hugged by cuddly sweaters. A kiss feels good in cold weather, its soothing and warming like hot chocolate. I will kiss all winter long.
I am not ever going to have kids. My whole life I lacked the desire to have them up until 3 years ago when I thought I cared about someone enough to reconsider. But it isn't about loving someone enough to have children, well sure that is part of it but what it really comes down to is common sense. Everything is getting worse in the world, the future looks dim. Why bring someone into the world with the guarantee that their life is not going to be any better than yours and in fact probably much more worse? The more I learn about the corruption lingering in every facet of life, in the government, my family, my friends, society, and the economy its enough to make me want to get my tubes tied. I learned quite recently from my biology of addiction class and also read it in my class book that the u.s. does trade with the Taliban for opioids (for pain medication and morphine) and it is their biggest export and we are the source of its greatest income and the direct reason they have the money and the power that they do to acquire resources and commit terrorism LIKE flying planes into our twin towers. Basically, we launched our own territory attack on ourselves. And yet we are also fighting against them in a war.
I am going to Vegas at the end of May with my old roommates from last year. It should be the scratch my itch desires. My adventure spirit is barking inside of me, it wants to be let out. It's a difficult transition from living in a house off campus with roommates and ample opportunities to commit chaos in the city of new haven to living in my mothers basement. I am happy and everything in my life is going quite well but something inside of me remains unsatisfied. It might be my youth tugging at my insides, telling me its too soon to sail smoothly through life. Their needs to be more risk taking, more ground to cover, more places to see, and people to meet. I am only 22. I also learned that the frontal lobe part of my brain has not fully developed until I reach 25 and that is the part of the brain responsible for rationalizing, risk evaluating, and making sound judgments. It explains why teenagers do the crazy reckless shit that they do, and college kids for that matter. So I have 3 more years to get away with doing crazy shit right? Better hop to it.
I am not ever going to have kids. My whole life I lacked the desire to have them up until 3 years ago when I thought I cared about someone enough to reconsider. But it isn't about loving someone enough to have children, well sure that is part of it but what it really comes down to is common sense. Everything is getting worse in the world, the future looks dim. Why bring someone into the world with the guarantee that their life is not going to be any better than yours and in fact probably much more worse? The more I learn about the corruption lingering in every facet of life, in the government, my family, my friends, society, and the economy its enough to make me want to get my tubes tied. I learned quite recently from my biology of addiction class and also read it in my class book that the u.s. does trade with the Taliban for opioids (for pain medication and morphine) and it is their biggest export and we are the source of its greatest income and the direct reason they have the money and the power that they do to acquire resources and commit terrorism LIKE flying planes into our twin towers. Basically, we launched our own territory attack on ourselves. And yet we are also fighting against them in a war.
I am going to Vegas at the end of May with my old roommates from last year. It should be the scratch my itch desires. My adventure spirit is barking inside of me, it wants to be let out. It's a difficult transition from living in a house off campus with roommates and ample opportunities to commit chaos in the city of new haven to living in my mothers basement. I am happy and everything in my life is going quite well but something inside of me remains unsatisfied. It might be my youth tugging at my insides, telling me its too soon to sail smoothly through life. Their needs to be more risk taking, more ground to cover, more places to see, and people to meet. I am only 22. I also learned that the frontal lobe part of my brain has not fully developed until I reach 25 and that is the part of the brain responsible for rationalizing, risk evaluating, and making sound judgments. It explains why teenagers do the crazy reckless shit that they do, and college kids for that matter. So I have 3 more years to get away with doing crazy shit right? Better hop to it.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
anxiety attack coupled with a despairty attack
I am not thinking well today, I am being sucked into this hellish state of anxiety and despair. Its one of those days where I really hate America, hate media, hate sheep. I cannot concentrate, cannot focus, cannot dangle a disillusion in front of myself to escape to. Some constructed reality where it is going to make sense to follow societys norms, reproduce, spend money, blow dry my hair, smile at idiots to fit in with the idiots, smile with the idiots, wait in line at the supermarket buy pork fed pork, chicken fed chicken, what if the universe was devouring people fed people, would it get dementia or mad cows disease? I am siting Carlos Castanedas bull crap here (The Teachings of Don Juan). Where our death is actually some entity's dinner. Lets plauge the universe and dine on eachother. The ultimate corruption.
I am not thinking well today, I have a list of tedious bull shit to get through. Oil change, making copies of my police report to resolve my identity theft, spending money on new work pants, purchase paper plates and napkins for my sisters baby shower, and phone calls to make for doctor and dentist appointments. I am being had! Cars could be made without the necessity of trimonthly oil changes, the fucken government could resolve my identity theft FOR ME, or the companies that claim I owe them money could suck one cause I dont actually, dress pants could be made with better quality so they do not fall apart in 6 months or could cost less than 50 fucken dollars, and my sis could decide to not give a shit about disposable paper plates with cartoon babies on them that are going to be covered with baked zitit and contribute to the destruction of our planet sitting in a landfill.
I probably wont do any of those things today
I am not thinking well today, I have a list of tedious bull shit to get through. Oil change, making copies of my police report to resolve my identity theft, spending money on new work pants, purchase paper plates and napkins for my sisters baby shower, and phone calls to make for doctor and dentist appointments. I am being had! Cars could be made without the necessity of trimonthly oil changes, the fucken government could resolve my identity theft FOR ME, or the companies that claim I owe them money could suck one cause I dont actually, dress pants could be made with better quality so they do not fall apart in 6 months or could cost less than 50 fucken dollars, and my sis could decide to not give a shit about disposable paper plates with cartoon babies on them that are going to be covered with baked zitit and contribute to the destruction of our planet sitting in a landfill.
I probably wont do any of those things today
Sunday, November 1, 2009
short story
At age 13 I was a full blown dike. To tell you the truth I was always a full blown dike, it was just not until my 13th birthday party that I actually had kissed a girl at a sleepover that everything started to make sense. The lack of interest in dolls as a child, the obsession with WWE, the boycott of the color pink and dresses, god I fucken hated dresses. So their I was on my 13th birthday locking lips with Cindy Clementine (her name was actually Camile Flemmings, but doesn't Cindy Clementine sound sweeter?) "practicing making out" for future boyfriends where I realized that I was a dike. Cindy wasn't, though I did get her to kiss me one more time after school on our walk home. I got her to do it by telling her I was suppose to kiss Jake Pelly later that night and I wanted to make sure I had the procedure nailed down. She even let our tongues linger together awhile, the good friend she was.
By high school I was all short black haircut, baggie shirts to my knees, taping my boobs down, scaring the hell outta my parents raging bull dike. I blended in with the goth kids who were gay, bisexual, drug addicted or lacking some other important social norm. Dillon my bestie was borderline schizophrenic, years later come to find out he put a bullet in his head. Sometimes when I get caught up in thinking about him I can't shake the feeling I coulda helped him. When we were sophomores he use to tell me his dog kept trying to kill him with his father's hand gun.
I never had a girlfriend, never committed myself to one special girl. I had brief flings with pretty faced fat girls behind gym bleachers or under my parents pool deck but I had never even gotten very far with a girl by the time I was 21. So I am walking into my first gay bar and hadn't logged much more than few hours groping tits. I was still a virgin by dike standards, and I remember feeling pretty self conscious about it. Here are all these beautiful homosexual ladies and I am twirling my straw around in my gin and tonic and wondering if when I take one of them home tonight if hers is gonna work like mine or what.
So I'm fingering my straw and all when it happens. A 6 foot tall flat chested brunette approaches me.
"What are you drinking?" She's all legs and I am terrified.
"Gin"
"I am buying you the next one" She's got a strong jaw to go along with that stunning confidence and I am swooning.
"Ready then" I gulp down the rest of my drink and smile with all of my teeth. How desperate must I look?
"Hey why don't we take a shot of 151 together and hit the dance floor upstairs?" Jesus christ their is a dance floor upstairs. I can't fucken dance.
"Sure, why not take two!" So she orders us two shots and then she's taking my hand and leading me up the stairs.
The alcohol rushes through my body and flows straight to my head. We are swaying to the music and her hands are running all over my hips. She grazes my butt a few times and I am beginning to sweat. This chick wants it and she doesn't even have any tits to grope, I am scared as shit.
After a few songs she takes my hand and leads me to the bathroom. I wonder if this is an attempt to be cute and take a girly trip to the bathroom together but before I can wonder much more she pushes me into a stall and starts violently kissing me. It takes me a moment or two but I begin to feed off of her passion and I begin groping her bare chest and plump ass. She begins to unbotton her pants and I start to feel my heart beating out of my chest. I look down and I watch as she takes her long erect penis out of her pants and begins to push my head down her waste. I suck her until she cums. She immediately vanishes upon finishing and I am left wetting my pants and wanting nothing more than to feel that long erect dick inside of me.
By high school I was all short black haircut, baggie shirts to my knees, taping my boobs down, scaring the hell outta my parents raging bull dike. I blended in with the goth kids who were gay, bisexual, drug addicted or lacking some other important social norm. Dillon my bestie was borderline schizophrenic, years later come to find out he put a bullet in his head. Sometimes when I get caught up in thinking about him I can't shake the feeling I coulda helped him. When we were sophomores he use to tell me his dog kept trying to kill him with his father's hand gun.
I never had a girlfriend, never committed myself to one special girl. I had brief flings with pretty faced fat girls behind gym bleachers or under my parents pool deck but I had never even gotten very far with a girl by the time I was 21. So I am walking into my first gay bar and hadn't logged much more than few hours groping tits. I was still a virgin by dike standards, and I remember feeling pretty self conscious about it. Here are all these beautiful homosexual ladies and I am twirling my straw around in my gin and tonic and wondering if when I take one of them home tonight if hers is gonna work like mine or what.
So I'm fingering my straw and all when it happens. A 6 foot tall flat chested brunette approaches me.
"What are you drinking?" She's all legs and I am terrified.
"Gin"
"I am buying you the next one" She's got a strong jaw to go along with that stunning confidence and I am swooning.
"Ready then" I gulp down the rest of my drink and smile with all of my teeth. How desperate must I look?
"Hey why don't we take a shot of 151 together and hit the dance floor upstairs?" Jesus christ their is a dance floor upstairs. I can't fucken dance.
"Sure, why not take two!" So she orders us two shots and then she's taking my hand and leading me up the stairs.
The alcohol rushes through my body and flows straight to my head. We are swaying to the music and her hands are running all over my hips. She grazes my butt a few times and I am beginning to sweat. This chick wants it and she doesn't even have any tits to grope, I am scared as shit.
After a few songs she takes my hand and leads me to the bathroom. I wonder if this is an attempt to be cute and take a girly trip to the bathroom together but before I can wonder much more she pushes me into a stall and starts violently kissing me. It takes me a moment or two but I begin to feed off of her passion and I begin groping her bare chest and plump ass. She begins to unbotton her pants and I start to feel my heart beating out of my chest. I look down and I watch as she takes her long erect penis out of her pants and begins to push my head down her waste. I suck her until she cums. She immediately vanishes upon finishing and I am left wetting my pants and wanting nothing more than to feel that long erect dick inside of me.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
more of story x
Monday at the office and it is like I cant get there soon enough, cant get away from my shitty two days off at home faster. My partner and secretary are groaning about the monday blues and I am all smiles because I know its only a matter of an hour or two before my appointment with Stephanie, before I get to fuck away my sad pathetic weekend. Chuck sends me a text message around 9am (most likely idling at the airport) "send me a pic of Stephanies tits" that is the friend I know. Hes making up for being such a sentimental caring asshole.
11 oclock rolls around and the secretary is buzzing Stephanie into my office. Shes wearing black skinny jeans, a skin tight t-shirt in November and reeks of prepubescent perfume.
"Hey sexy"
"Hey Baby, I was thinking did you wanna get moving at all with this case against your ex?" Its what originally brought her sweet pussy to my office three months ago. She was seeking counsel to file a lawsuit against her ex who broke into her house and kidnapped her Doberman a week after they had broke up.
"I think I still need some consultation" she comes close to me and pushes her torso into mine.
"Alright, well let me see what kind of service I can offer you today" I say as I unzip her pants.
In a matter of seconds shes bent over my desk like last Friday only this time their is nothing stopping us. She's moaning into my desk and I cum so hard I practically fall over.
"Told you I'd make it up to you" I tell her as I toss her pants to her.
"Yeah thanks for the 10 seconds of paradise"
"Give me a break, we never finished Friday and I didn't have a chance to jerk off this weekend, I've been hard for days"
"Alright, alright, hey I did call it paradise didn't I?"
I kiss her on the neck and tell her to schedule another appointment with Rena my secretary.
She walks out the door without saying goodbye and for the first time I wonder where she is going home to, and if there will be anyone there to take her to paradise for longer tonight.
11 oclock rolls around and the secretary is buzzing Stephanie into my office. Shes wearing black skinny jeans, a skin tight t-shirt in November and reeks of prepubescent perfume.
"Hey sexy"
"Hey Baby, I was thinking did you wanna get moving at all with this case against your ex?" Its what originally brought her sweet pussy to my office three months ago. She was seeking counsel to file a lawsuit against her ex who broke into her house and kidnapped her Doberman a week after they had broke up.
"I think I still need some consultation" she comes close to me and pushes her torso into mine.
"Alright, well let me see what kind of service I can offer you today" I say as I unzip her pants.
In a matter of seconds shes bent over my desk like last Friday only this time their is nothing stopping us. She's moaning into my desk and I cum so hard I practically fall over.
"Told you I'd make it up to you" I tell her as I toss her pants to her.
"Yeah thanks for the 10 seconds of paradise"
"Give me a break, we never finished Friday and I didn't have a chance to jerk off this weekend, I've been hard for days"
"Alright, alright, hey I did call it paradise didn't I?"
I kiss her on the neck and tell her to schedule another appointment with Rena my secretary.
She walks out the door without saying goodbye and for the first time I wonder where she is going home to, and if there will be anyone there to take her to paradise for longer tonight.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
god rant
It's unhealthy to believe in God, no not unhealthy, well yes unhealthy, mentally it is unhealthy to believe in God. You go through life believing in God and before you know it you're using up huge chunks of your life siting in a pew with your palms pressed together asking for forgiveness for lying to your stocky neighbor about your lawn mower, it's not broken, he could have used it, your a paranoid self centered bastard, you didn't think you'd get the thing back. You sit there in that pew you get so wound up, you're sweating, you're stomach is turning, you've broken so many secular laws, eventually you're begging to be forgiven for the shit you're about to take on the floor. Wait, no this isn't what I mean at all, forget it, go on believe in God, it does not really matter. It is perfectly okay to believe in God in moderation. Yes, moderation is the key, you know, throw a few Benjamins to the church on Easter, attend Christmas eve midnight mass, follow the thou shall not kill and thous shall not fuck my neighboor's spouse, and good, okay. M o d e r a t i o n. Because lets face it, you make God and Jesus and Mary the center of your little world and bam you'll have problems. No sex before marriage for you and then you get caught getting off to animal porn at 3 o'clock in the morning and suddenly that fiance of yours is calling off the wedding. And you were so close to having the real thing. No, you do not want that. Wait, no this isn't where I was trying to go with this. It basically comes down to intelligence, if you're smart, I mean if you're not the kind of person who gets into many fender benders, if you're not someone who sits in front of the boob tube with their mouth hanging open and druel dribbling to the floor, no, no, no this isn't where I am trying to go but anyway, if you're smart, you don't and you won't believe in God, and well if you're a complete and utter dumbass (excuse any of my American word blunder) then let thy HIM be your savior. NPR told me so. No it wasn't NPR it was Psychology Today, the magazine. It revealed a study which correlated High IQ's with Atheism and then pointed to congress who have all proudly boasted their beliefs in intelligent design. Hahaha. But, but, but as we must remember to take a look at, as scholars. Psychology Today is a product of the scientific world and in the science vs. church battle it is all too likely that they would publish such a correlation.
BUT/AND
How many bible thumpers and members of congress can you think of that you would deam geniuses?
Okay, I am being a little pretentious
BUT/AND
How many bible thumpers and members of congress can you think of that you would deam geniuses?
Okay, I am being a little pretentious
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Continuing with lets call it story X
Lisa was passed out on the couch like I had suspected with her laptop at her feet. I laid a blanket over her body and kissed her forehead in a small selfish attempt to wake her. I missed her, I wanted to hold her in my arms and hear her talk like the way she use to, I wanted to hear her tell me silly stories about her day and joke with me about my work endeavors. I wanted to fantasize about having kids with her again and how they would grow up to be punks who sat in their rooms listening to loud uncompromisable noises booming from their computer stereos with big long necks like hers. "We are going to have giraffes for kids I hope you know" she'd joke and wildly extend her neck to illustrate. Her neck was perfect actually, smooth and soft like the rest of her body, I missed touching her with my lips. I missed everything about that beautiful woman which was now not much more than a pile of bones and rotting teeth, wrapped up in fetal position who reeked of marijuana. I probably will not have any kids.
I went out back to work on an old 1957 ford mustang Lisa's dad handed down to me. It was in pretty bad shape and I was not much into renovating automobiles, I hardly knew anything about them in general, but since Lisa came down with cancer I found myself having plenty necessity for a distracting hobby. I pulled out my handy dandy Rebuilding Classic Mustangs For Dummies book (now a big fan of the series) and got underway. Before I knew it, it was well past super time and the sun had set. The house was dark, Lisa was still asleep. She probably hadn't eaten anything for hours so I fixed her some chicken, rice, and broccoli and she spent several hours until midnight throwing it up.
I had stopped believing in God since the day Lisa got sick. To tell you the truth, I was a fairly noble catholic before hand. My father raised me to introduce myself as Irish Catholic to everyone I came across in life, he said it was the only two principle things that mattered about a person, if they were Irish and if they were Catholic. I use to attend church on Sunday's and even got Lisa to come on Easter and Christmas Eve Midnight Mass, she herself was, is, an agnostic as I now proudly am. I just cannot believe in a god that would rape a man of astonishing happiness and a woman of her dignity, and her soul. It's also why I fuck Stephanie, fuck God and his commandments, he doesn't exist, and neither does his church, or the vows I protested under "his witness", fuck it all really.
Sunday went pretty similarly as Saturday. Lisa smoking, playing games on her laptop, and sleeping, me attempting to work on that mustang. At one point I went for a long jog and decided on buying a dog, I was so excited I ran in the door, showered like a hot date was waiting to fuck me, and flew out the door without an explanation (not like Lisa was probably even aware of my haste).
She was a beau, I saw her right away. I was at the Candlestick Kennel in Hebron and her little sad face was poking out between the cage bars and her tale was wagging anxiously for me to come over and see her. The kennel had named her Lucky, a tag on the cage explained she was found outside in a dumpster, only a few feet away from the kennel. Some jackass, couldn't at least drop the pup off inside? Some fucking people, I just don't understand. I knew she was the one, she was a mixed mut, not a purebred that was for sure, she had brown and black markings all over her body and one black spot right over her mouth which made her look like she had finished off a bowl or two of chocolate pudding. She had long legs, a short body, and huge paws. I could tell she'd grow up to be a good medium sized dog, big enough to take with me on jogs and hikes. I was sold, her brown puppy eyes knew she had gotten me. I payed 30 bucks for her and proudly brought my pup home. I could hardly contain my excitement on the drive home anticipating what Lisa would say. "Oh Jamie! She's perfect! She'll be my new friend to help take care of me when you are at work!" I couldn't wait.
When I arrived back home I let Lucky slip through the door first and find Lisa who was in her usual spot fast asleep. Lucky jumped on the sofa excitedly and began licking her face. I was beaming with happiness, this was perfect already.
"Jamie? What is this?" she groaned.
"It's our new puppy hunny! Isn't she cute? I just rescued her from Candlestick Kennel"
Lisa picked up her body and pushed Lucky away "Hunny we can't have a dog, you know that, what did you do this for?" her eyes refused to meet mine, she talked at the dog.
"What do you mean Lisa?" I sat beside her on the couch and took Lucky in my lap. "She'll be our new friend! She'll keep you company when I am at work and I'll take her for long jogs and hikes when I am home."
Lisa slinked back down into the couch, heavy with exhaustion and closed her eyes. "Jamie, take her back, you know I can't take care of a puppy"
"Yes you can Lisa, it will be no work at all."
"Jamie" she sat up again, angry this time. "I don't have the energy to take care of a dog, what is wrong with you? How the fuck do you expect me to potty train him or feed him, or clean up after him when he's bad?"
"It's a her, Lucky is a girl and so just try the best you can, and don't worry I can clean up after her when I get home from work and on the weekends Ill concentrate on training her, you won't hardly have to do a thing, please Lisa. This will be good for us. Lucky wants to be our friend, look how sweet she is" I placed her in Lisa's lap and she began licking her face wildly.
"Jamie!" Lisa moaned and pushed the puppy away almost knocking her off the sofa entirely. "Take her back now"
An order, Lisa was giving me an order. Lisa was entitled to order me around, she was sick, and her word was the ultimate decision.
Lucky was licking my hand and squirming in my lap. Before I could take her outside and run around with her I was putting her in the backseat of the car and driving her back to Hebron. The owner of the kennel joked that maybe she wasn't too lucky. But I said I hoped she would be, she really was a wonderful dog even for the few short hours I knew her.
I went out back to work on an old 1957 ford mustang Lisa's dad handed down to me. It was in pretty bad shape and I was not much into renovating automobiles, I hardly knew anything about them in general, but since Lisa came down with cancer I found myself having plenty necessity for a distracting hobby. I pulled out my handy dandy Rebuilding Classic Mustangs For Dummies book (now a big fan of the series) and got underway. Before I knew it, it was well past super time and the sun had set. The house was dark, Lisa was still asleep. She probably hadn't eaten anything for hours so I fixed her some chicken, rice, and broccoli and she spent several hours until midnight throwing it up.
I had stopped believing in God since the day Lisa got sick. To tell you the truth, I was a fairly noble catholic before hand. My father raised me to introduce myself as Irish Catholic to everyone I came across in life, he said it was the only two principle things that mattered about a person, if they were Irish and if they were Catholic. I use to attend church on Sunday's and even got Lisa to come on Easter and Christmas Eve Midnight Mass, she herself was, is, an agnostic as I now proudly am. I just cannot believe in a god that would rape a man of astonishing happiness and a woman of her dignity, and her soul. It's also why I fuck Stephanie, fuck God and his commandments, he doesn't exist, and neither does his church, or the vows I protested under "his witness", fuck it all really.
Sunday went pretty similarly as Saturday. Lisa smoking, playing games on her laptop, and sleeping, me attempting to work on that mustang. At one point I went for a long jog and decided on buying a dog, I was so excited I ran in the door, showered like a hot date was waiting to fuck me, and flew out the door without an explanation (not like Lisa was probably even aware of my haste).
She was a beau, I saw her right away. I was at the Candlestick Kennel in Hebron and her little sad face was poking out between the cage bars and her tale was wagging anxiously for me to come over and see her. The kennel had named her Lucky, a tag on the cage explained she was found outside in a dumpster, only a few feet away from the kennel. Some jackass, couldn't at least drop the pup off inside? Some fucking people, I just don't understand. I knew she was the one, she was a mixed mut, not a purebred that was for sure, she had brown and black markings all over her body and one black spot right over her mouth which made her look like she had finished off a bowl or two of chocolate pudding. She had long legs, a short body, and huge paws. I could tell she'd grow up to be a good medium sized dog, big enough to take with me on jogs and hikes. I was sold, her brown puppy eyes knew she had gotten me. I payed 30 bucks for her and proudly brought my pup home. I could hardly contain my excitement on the drive home anticipating what Lisa would say. "Oh Jamie! She's perfect! She'll be my new friend to help take care of me when you are at work!" I couldn't wait.
When I arrived back home I let Lucky slip through the door first and find Lisa who was in her usual spot fast asleep. Lucky jumped on the sofa excitedly and began licking her face. I was beaming with happiness, this was perfect already.
"Jamie? What is this?" she groaned.
"It's our new puppy hunny! Isn't she cute? I just rescued her from Candlestick Kennel"
Lisa picked up her body and pushed Lucky away "Hunny we can't have a dog, you know that, what did you do this for?" her eyes refused to meet mine, she talked at the dog.
"What do you mean Lisa?" I sat beside her on the couch and took Lucky in my lap. "She'll be our new friend! She'll keep you company when I am at work and I'll take her for long jogs and hikes when I am home."
Lisa slinked back down into the couch, heavy with exhaustion and closed her eyes. "Jamie, take her back, you know I can't take care of a puppy"
"Yes you can Lisa, it will be no work at all."
"Jamie" she sat up again, angry this time. "I don't have the energy to take care of a dog, what is wrong with you? How the fuck do you expect me to potty train him or feed him, or clean up after him when he's bad?"
"It's a her, Lucky is a girl and so just try the best you can, and don't worry I can clean up after her when I get home from work and on the weekends Ill concentrate on training her, you won't hardly have to do a thing, please Lisa. This will be good for us. Lucky wants to be our friend, look how sweet she is" I placed her in Lisa's lap and she began licking her face wildly.
"Jamie!" Lisa moaned and pushed the puppy away almost knocking her off the sofa entirely. "Take her back now"
An order, Lisa was giving me an order. Lisa was entitled to order me around, she was sick, and her word was the ultimate decision.
Lucky was licking my hand and squirming in my lap. Before I could take her outside and run around with her I was putting her in the backseat of the car and driving her back to Hebron. The owner of the kennel joked that maybe she wasn't too lucky. But I said I hoped she would be, she really was a wonderful dog even for the few short hours I knew her.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Brain Train
I am waiting to use the bathroom, to brush my teeth before I go to sleep. My step dad is soaking his aching bones, his throbbing joints in a bath. It is what retired custodians do, they lie in tubs and soak at night. I am thinking about how I am where I never thought I would be a year ago, incredibly in love and certain of my romantic fate, still working part time at GNC, embarrassed, idling before I start school in January to become a drug & alcohol recovery counselor, and anticipating the arrival of my nephew, the launching of a whole new learning process: how to take care of and raise a child. I am thinking about how I have to pick up my birth control tomorrow, how it is going to cost me a few dollars, how I spent a lot of money I really do not have this weekend, but I am also smiling about it because it was worth it. I am looking around my room and feeling anxious, I need to clean, reorganize, and create more peace in here. It is cluttered, it is full of teenage memorabilia, the walls are shouting, crying, smiling, and its all happening at once, its all a mess. I am thinking about the love of my life, thinking how its the best gift life could have given me, how I will not dare ask for anything else from full moons, shooting stars, magic lamps and their genie keepers, how this is completing, and makes everything worth wild. I am thinking about October, the trees that vibrate just a bit louder with color each day, how I am hungry for every drive, run, or ride in the fall. I am thinking about indulgence and the necessity of sleep, its time to grow up, why am I still sleeping til noon? Should I get a second job to pay off my schooling or to save money for a reckless trip? Should I manifest Hemmingway and Karoachs wild minded words? Should I live a rendition? Will I ever become compliant of the machine or will I become a professional student? Can I accept that their will be a time where my husband and I will work long weeks, sleep short nights, and only spend time with eachother and our children on the weekends? We will be tired. But its him, and it will be worth wild, thank you, thank you, thank you universe. My heart beats again, it beats louder.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Story Continued, see previous entry before reading this one
When I pop into Chuck's condo and he is doing exactly what he said he was doing, watching mud wrestling. He offers me a beer and a seat on his brand new classy leather couch. "What is this pleather?" I tease.
"Fuck you." He loves it when I make fun of his pricey accessories.
"So what's up man, how's the beautiful wife? Is she feeling any better yet?" I always feel uncomfortable when he asks me serious questions, when he's serious in general. I don't shoot the shit with him to be serious and talk about my wife and cancer.
"She's okay, good days and bad days. Nice flat screen man, you know that thing is gonna burn a whole through your wall in a year."
"You're wrong fuckbag, these things have fans now." He really loves it when I make fun of his pricey accessories.
"How was your last trip? Bang any nice ones?"
"Always man, this one girl I was with on Saturday night in Chicago had her clit pierced man, believe it or not I have never seen that shit before. Sketched me out a bit cause I thought damn this chick might be a stripper and if so maybe she could have had something, but I'm not pissing blood yet."
"Stephanie has her clit pierced, I love it, makes her cum pretty easily when I play with it, makes me wild"
Then suddenly he does something very unexpected, he turns off his television, his mud wrestling. "Who the fuck is Stephanie?" He's angry too.
"This girl I am seeing on the side, turn the T.V. back on man"
"You're screwing around on Lisa? Why the hell would you do that?"
"Wow, this is coming from you? Stop looking at me like that Chuck, I can't believe you are getting pissed at this, man you had two girlfriends once!"
"Yes, and they knew about eachother Jamie, besides I am me, and those girls were just broads. This is you and this is Lisa we are talking about. Damn Jamie, how could you be fucking around on Lisa? And while she's going through Cancer? What the hell is wrong with you? Didn't those vows mean anything to you?" I couldn't believe Chuck was saying this to me, I couldn't believe the man who fucks beautiful and decent women every weekend and never calls them, the man who was probably spreading herpes all over the god damn nation was giving me shit for this.
"Fuck you man, I am outta here"
"Hey Jamie, alright, don't get all heated just tell me what's going on, just tell me about this Stephanie chick and how she blows Lisa out of the fucken water okay?"
But I didn't want to tell him anything, I wanted to tell him how good her pussy felt and maybe go out for a drink and shoot the shit about the Yankees and check out women at a bar. I did not want to tell him that Stephanie was a former client of mine with not much more than a high school education, that fucking her was the blur of ecstasy I needed to get stay with my beautiful, intellectual wife that no longer fucked me nor talked to me, and only needed her pot through the cancer except when she was afraid of chocking on her vomit.
"Bye man." I left without telling him anything, fuck him. He was suppose to be my best friend, someone I didn't have to explain anything to, fuck.
"Whatever, call me next weekend I'll be in L.A. all week."
I had no real choice except to return home, all my other friends were our friends. Lisa and mine, they would flood me with questions and concerns and depress the hell outta be if I tried to spend any time with them.
"Fuck you." He loves it when I make fun of his pricey accessories.
"So what's up man, how's the beautiful wife? Is she feeling any better yet?" I always feel uncomfortable when he asks me serious questions, when he's serious in general. I don't shoot the shit with him to be serious and talk about my wife and cancer.
"She's okay, good days and bad days. Nice flat screen man, you know that thing is gonna burn a whole through your wall in a year."
"You're wrong fuckbag, these things have fans now." He really loves it when I make fun of his pricey accessories.
"How was your last trip? Bang any nice ones?"
"Always man, this one girl I was with on Saturday night in Chicago had her clit pierced man, believe it or not I have never seen that shit before. Sketched me out a bit cause I thought damn this chick might be a stripper and if so maybe she could have had something, but I'm not pissing blood yet."
"Stephanie has her clit pierced, I love it, makes her cum pretty easily when I play with it, makes me wild"
Then suddenly he does something very unexpected, he turns off his television, his mud wrestling. "Who the fuck is Stephanie?" He's angry too.
"This girl I am seeing on the side, turn the T.V. back on man"
"You're screwing around on Lisa? Why the hell would you do that?"
"Wow, this is coming from you? Stop looking at me like that Chuck, I can't believe you are getting pissed at this, man you had two girlfriends once!"
"Yes, and they knew about eachother Jamie, besides I am me, and those girls were just broads. This is you and this is Lisa we are talking about. Damn Jamie, how could you be fucking around on Lisa? And while she's going through Cancer? What the hell is wrong with you? Didn't those vows mean anything to you?" I couldn't believe Chuck was saying this to me, I couldn't believe the man who fucks beautiful and decent women every weekend and never calls them, the man who was probably spreading herpes all over the god damn nation was giving me shit for this.
"Fuck you man, I am outta here"
"Hey Jamie, alright, don't get all heated just tell me what's going on, just tell me about this Stephanie chick and how she blows Lisa out of the fucken water okay?"
But I didn't want to tell him anything, I wanted to tell him how good her pussy felt and maybe go out for a drink and shoot the shit about the Yankees and check out women at a bar. I did not want to tell him that Stephanie was a former client of mine with not much more than a high school education, that fucking her was the blur of ecstasy I needed to get stay with my beautiful, intellectual wife that no longer fucked me nor talked to me, and only needed her pot through the cancer except when she was afraid of chocking on her vomit.
"Bye man." I left without telling him anything, fuck him. He was suppose to be my best friend, someone I didn't have to explain anything to, fuck.
"Whatever, call me next weekend I'll be in L.A. all week."
I had no real choice except to return home, all my other friends were our friends. Lisa and mine, they would flood me with questions and concerns and depress the hell outta be if I tried to spend any time with them.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Her legs are wrapped around my back, she's lying on my work desk moaning and groping her tits, I am just about to cum when the phone rings.
"Damnit, I have to get that" I pull out of her tight pussy and grab the phone.
"What the f..." I slap my hand over her face and whisper "shhhhhh!"
"Good afternoon Law Offices of Mac and O'Riley"
"Hunny?" It's Lisa.
"Hey hunny are you okay?"
"No, Jamie can you please come home? It's real bad and I am scared, I don't want to be alone." She puts down the phone to yak into the toilet something fierce.
"Of course. I'll leave right away, I love you." I hang up the phone and grab my coat.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" My girlfriend Stephanie can be a real bitch.
"What do you think I'm doing? My wife is having a bad day, I have to go."
"So you're just going to leave me still wetting my pants?" God, I love it when she talks like that, I'm still hard and all I wanna do is lay her across my desk and finish fucking her.
"I'm sorry, you know I'll make it up to you" I leave her in my office and walk out the door.
I arrive home and Lisa's choking on her vomit, I panic but she relieves herself before I have to jam my fingers down her throat and scoop out the bile. She looks at me with those big brown apologetic eyes, god can those eyes still kill. I stroke her skeletal back and whip the sweat from her brows, and tell her she's going to be okay. An hour later their is nothing left and she is weak and nodding off to sleep. I pick her up and lay her down on the couch where I can keep an eye on her while I fix some vegetable soup. I get a call from the doctor who asks how she's feeling after her treatment. "Fucken horrible, she just puked for an hour and now she's too weak to stay awake" I am frustrated, tired, and agitated by my blue balls, I take it out on him. He's use to it and just tells me what he always says, to keep her hydrated and fed. Sounds easy coming from him.
Lisa wakes up long enough to make a deal with me, she'll sip half a bowl of soup and a full glass of water and I'll rub her back and sing our wedding song while she falls asleep. She smiles at me but I have to look away, her teeth are stained and beginning to rot. She picks up on it and tells me when she beats the cancer she's going to get beautiful veneers. That girl always picks up on everything, she use to be able to tell what kind of day I had just by the greeting I'd give her when I came home every day after work. When we were kids I'll never forget the time we were waking through the mall and all I did was glance at this guitar in the window of a music shop and during Christmas she bought it for me along with a Guitar for Dummys book. She said I made this funny sigh when I saw it that day in the mall like "man I wish I could learn how to play guitar." By Valentine's Day I had learned how to play a decent song and I dedicated to her and played it for her at a cheesy open mic night at a local venue. She loved it so much she insisted it become our wedding song, god it was so easy to please that girl, this girl.
Saturday morning comes and I sleep in until I hear the doorbell at 11. I glance over and Lisa isn't beside me, I listen for a moment and I hear her heading to the door.
"Chase, come on in" it's fucken Chase.
"Hey Lisa, how's it going, you look pretty good." I'm guessing she must have her blonde wig on, God dammit do I hate that thing.
"Oh, thanks, not feeling so hot after chemo yesterday but thanks. Do you want anything to eat or drink?"
"No, no, I'm good actually, is Jamie home? His car is outside."
"Yeah, he's still asleep actually believe it or not, I bet he'd love to see you though, do you want me to go grab him?" No actually I wouldn't love to see him, I beg to christ she doesn't start calling my name.
"No, no, that's okay, I gotta get going anyway, I am meeting someone for lunch. You can just tell him I said hi. How much did you say you wanted again?"
"Just the same as last time, same price right?"
"This stuff is from Vermont but for you I'll keep it at the same price" How nice of him.
"Thanks Chase, I appreciate it."
"Alright, well I hope you start feeling better, call me if you need anything"
"Oh I will, thanks Chase, you outta come by for dinner sometime when I am feeling a little more stable, you can bring a girl too if you're seeing anyone."
"Okay, yeah" I imagine their hugging about now.
"Thanks again, see ya"
"Peace"
I roll out of bed and jog downstairs before she can hide away her pot. I don't want her to escape any guilt. "Your drug dealer just come by?"
"Jamie, it was Chase, he's not my drug dealer, he's our friend"
"Your friend, not mine anymore, not my friend since we were kids." I enter the kitchen and start making breakfast.
"Come on Jamie, this stuff really helps, you know that. I hardly have an appetite without it, and it calms my stomach" She wraps her arms around me and hugs my back.
"You don't need pot Lisa. I got you to eat yesterday and you didn't even yak it back up."
"Yeah hunny but that was after I spent the entire afternoon yaking already" she reaches in a kitchen drawer and pulls out a bowl to pack her pot in. She retreats to the outside back patio to smoke and I surrender the discussion to a bowl of oatmeal.
When she returns she eats a bowl of cereal and a banana and forgets to engage in conversation. We sit silent at the kitchen table. I clean the dishes when we are both finished while she plops herself down on the sofa couch and plays a game on her laptop. She doesn't speak, she doesn't move, she doesn't hear me when I ask her to go for a walk. I put on some gym shorts, go for a long jog and think about fucking Stephanie.
When I return she is fast asleep on the couch, I take the computer off of her lap, tuck it under the coffee table, and place a blanket on top of her. It is 1 oclock on a Saturday, what to do, what to do. I know Lisa will wake up in a few hours, smoke some more pot, probably eat a sandwhich and dose back off to sleep after playing more video games, this is her usual routine on a good day. I figure its safe to call chuck my only single friend left and shoot the shit with him for the day. Chuck is smoking cigars and watching mud wrestling on television, that bastard, I tell him Ill be over as soon as I can.
Chuck is the ultimate bacholor, a real Van Wilder, it took him 8 years to finish college but when he did he became a self-made rich boy, a financial consultant. He flies all over the world on frequent flier miles, fucks beautiful women, gets money shoved in his pockets, and is still STD free that asshole. He's the type of man I never had the guts to be, he's a Hugh Hefner, he once had two girlfriends who knew about each other and he broke up with both of them at the same time and they just about did everything to get him back, even filmed themselves playing with dildos and moaning his name. Fuck that bastard. He was also my best man at my wedding, it was about the only time I ever heard him say anything half decent. He told me their was only one woman in the entire world that he ever met that could be worthy enough to tie a guy down to the grave, and that woman was Lisa and that I was damn lucky to have her.
"Damnit, I have to get that" I pull out of her tight pussy and grab the phone.
"What the f..." I slap my hand over her face and whisper "shhhhhh!"
"Good afternoon Law Offices of Mac and O'Riley"
"Hunny?" It's Lisa.
"Hey hunny are you okay?"
"No, Jamie can you please come home? It's real bad and I am scared, I don't want to be alone." She puts down the phone to yak into the toilet something fierce.
"Of course. I'll leave right away, I love you." I hang up the phone and grab my coat.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" My girlfriend Stephanie can be a real bitch.
"What do you think I'm doing? My wife is having a bad day, I have to go."
"So you're just going to leave me still wetting my pants?" God, I love it when she talks like that, I'm still hard and all I wanna do is lay her across my desk and finish fucking her.
"I'm sorry, you know I'll make it up to you" I leave her in my office and walk out the door.
I arrive home and Lisa's choking on her vomit, I panic but she relieves herself before I have to jam my fingers down her throat and scoop out the bile. She looks at me with those big brown apologetic eyes, god can those eyes still kill. I stroke her skeletal back and whip the sweat from her brows, and tell her she's going to be okay. An hour later their is nothing left and she is weak and nodding off to sleep. I pick her up and lay her down on the couch where I can keep an eye on her while I fix some vegetable soup. I get a call from the doctor who asks how she's feeling after her treatment. "Fucken horrible, she just puked for an hour and now she's too weak to stay awake" I am frustrated, tired, and agitated by my blue balls, I take it out on him. He's use to it and just tells me what he always says, to keep her hydrated and fed. Sounds easy coming from him.
Lisa wakes up long enough to make a deal with me, she'll sip half a bowl of soup and a full glass of water and I'll rub her back and sing our wedding song while she falls asleep. She smiles at me but I have to look away, her teeth are stained and beginning to rot. She picks up on it and tells me when she beats the cancer she's going to get beautiful veneers. That girl always picks up on everything, she use to be able to tell what kind of day I had just by the greeting I'd give her when I came home every day after work. When we were kids I'll never forget the time we were waking through the mall and all I did was glance at this guitar in the window of a music shop and during Christmas she bought it for me along with a Guitar for Dummys book. She said I made this funny sigh when I saw it that day in the mall like "man I wish I could learn how to play guitar." By Valentine's Day I had learned how to play a decent song and I dedicated to her and played it for her at a cheesy open mic night at a local venue. She loved it so much she insisted it become our wedding song, god it was so easy to please that girl, this girl.
Saturday morning comes and I sleep in until I hear the doorbell at 11. I glance over and Lisa isn't beside me, I listen for a moment and I hear her heading to the door.
"Chase, come on in" it's fucken Chase.
"Hey Lisa, how's it going, you look pretty good." I'm guessing she must have her blonde wig on, God dammit do I hate that thing.
"Oh, thanks, not feeling so hot after chemo yesterday but thanks. Do you want anything to eat or drink?"
"No, no, I'm good actually, is Jamie home? His car is outside."
"Yeah, he's still asleep actually believe it or not, I bet he'd love to see you though, do you want me to go grab him?" No actually I wouldn't love to see him, I beg to christ she doesn't start calling my name.
"No, no, that's okay, I gotta get going anyway, I am meeting someone for lunch. You can just tell him I said hi. How much did you say you wanted again?"
"Just the same as last time, same price right?"
"This stuff is from Vermont but for you I'll keep it at the same price" How nice of him.
"Thanks Chase, I appreciate it."
"Alright, well I hope you start feeling better, call me if you need anything"
"Oh I will, thanks Chase, you outta come by for dinner sometime when I am feeling a little more stable, you can bring a girl too if you're seeing anyone."
"Okay, yeah" I imagine their hugging about now.
"Thanks again, see ya"
"Peace"
I roll out of bed and jog downstairs before she can hide away her pot. I don't want her to escape any guilt. "Your drug dealer just come by?"
"Jamie, it was Chase, he's not my drug dealer, he's our friend"
"Your friend, not mine anymore, not my friend since we were kids." I enter the kitchen and start making breakfast.
"Come on Jamie, this stuff really helps, you know that. I hardly have an appetite without it, and it calms my stomach" She wraps her arms around me and hugs my back.
"You don't need pot Lisa. I got you to eat yesterday and you didn't even yak it back up."
"Yeah hunny but that was after I spent the entire afternoon yaking already" she reaches in a kitchen drawer and pulls out a bowl to pack her pot in. She retreats to the outside back patio to smoke and I surrender the discussion to a bowl of oatmeal.
When she returns she eats a bowl of cereal and a banana and forgets to engage in conversation. We sit silent at the kitchen table. I clean the dishes when we are both finished while she plops herself down on the sofa couch and plays a game on her laptop. She doesn't speak, she doesn't move, she doesn't hear me when I ask her to go for a walk. I put on some gym shorts, go for a long jog and think about fucking Stephanie.
When I return she is fast asleep on the couch, I take the computer off of her lap, tuck it under the coffee table, and place a blanket on top of her. It is 1 oclock on a Saturday, what to do, what to do. I know Lisa will wake up in a few hours, smoke some more pot, probably eat a sandwhich and dose back off to sleep after playing more video games, this is her usual routine on a good day. I figure its safe to call chuck my only single friend left and shoot the shit with him for the day. Chuck is smoking cigars and watching mud wrestling on television, that bastard, I tell him Ill be over as soon as I can.
Chuck is the ultimate bacholor, a real Van Wilder, it took him 8 years to finish college but when he did he became a self-made rich boy, a financial consultant. He flies all over the world on frequent flier miles, fucks beautiful women, gets money shoved in his pockets, and is still STD free that asshole. He's the type of man I never had the guts to be, he's a Hugh Hefner, he once had two girlfriends who knew about each other and he broke up with both of them at the same time and they just about did everything to get him back, even filmed themselves playing with dildos and moaning his name. Fuck that bastard. He was also my best man at my wedding, it was about the only time I ever heard him say anything half decent. He told me their was only one woman in the entire world that he ever met that could be worthy enough to tie a guy down to the grave, and that woman was Lisa and that I was damn lucky to have her.
Monday, August 10, 2009
I hate america and i hate myself
I hate that I can't help anyone. I hate that my best friends bike got stolen and I hate that its probobly because that person was even poorer, even more down and out than my best friend. I hate myself and I hate my room, I have so much stuff. All of the bleeding fingers across seas stitching together 24 stuffed animals now on a one way trip to sit decomposing in a landfil, my carbon footprint as large as my shame. My stuff, my so much stuff. Half a world away someone with bare feet are payed a few cents to make one of my 16 pairs of shoes, I hate my stuff and I hate myself.
My fat neighboorhood, this fat town, and the fat city nextdoor and children walking out of 711 with slupries bigger than their heads. Mothers on maury with their obese babies, my mother on the couch mocking the mothers on maury and eating Oreos. The signs on the highway telling me to eat, to eat more, to eat faster, and for less. Their seems to be a hiden panic in the masses, some unspoken message that their just isn't ever enough food. But I never sat in a 50 minute class without the sound of crinkling dorito bags and the smell of sugared down coffee. I know someone is starving and I can't finish my dinner, I hate myself. I know someone is starving and the person next to me at ihop is eatng chicken and waffles with a side of pancakes, I hate america.
My country didn't give me a chance. My identity theft, my inability to establish myself in my own society without suffering the consequences of being labled a financial delinquant. Other 22 year olds have flat screen televisions, a trip to vegas, a drug habit to show for their financial ruin, I just have my bad luck. Just an easy name, maybe a bank teller or a cleaver bum rummaging through my trash, someone who wanted the American Dream. Someone who bought furnature, a cell phone, a computer, someone who's heart beats everytime they hear sirens.
Everything is shit and I'm suppose to care about making a salary and buying a home. I fall in love with people who turn into addicts, head cases, angry, and miserable souls and I am suppose to just pretend I don't notice the demise of the people around me? Pretend getting a 9-5 job, saving up money for a home, getting married, and reproducing will what? Distract me? Make me happy? And I am suppose to want money?
In america everything is a comidity, being fat is a comidity. Their is a new reality television show about a man who likes bigger women. The plumper she is the closer she is to her fairy tale marriage. Fetish is comidity. Their are television shows about good looking men and woman eating bugs and bull testicals, and people sit in their dark livingrooms and cum in their pants. People I know have worked in porn shops, my friend purchased a pocket pussy, and in some states 16 year olds are allowed to strip but have a stage curfew of 11pm. I lost my virginity a week before my 16th birthday, have worn high heels that damaged my feet, and wore my almost naked body for halloween all through high school. America the manifestation of the dark corners and quiet things no one ever knows about anything Sex. America does not hold back, and I hate myself.
Heart disease is the number one killer in america and you cant escape television ads, bilboards, radio commercials, popups, website sponsors, little league jersys, the superbowl, and other sponsored american pastimes that all say the same thing: "stay active, consume small amount of calories from nutrient rich sources like fruits, vegtables, and whole grains, refrain from too much alcohol, and engage in stress relieving practices like meditating." Oh wait..."Dunkin runs on America, Have it Your Way, Think Outside the Bun, Pizza Hut Open Late Night, Budwiser, Corrs, The New Bud Light Lime......" Right, that's the message. Keep dying america.
My fat neighboorhood, this fat town, and the fat city nextdoor and children walking out of 711 with slupries bigger than their heads. Mothers on maury with their obese babies, my mother on the couch mocking the mothers on maury and eating Oreos. The signs on the highway telling me to eat, to eat more, to eat faster, and for less. Their seems to be a hiden panic in the masses, some unspoken message that their just isn't ever enough food. But I never sat in a 50 minute class without the sound of crinkling dorito bags and the smell of sugared down coffee. I know someone is starving and I can't finish my dinner, I hate myself. I know someone is starving and the person next to me at ihop is eatng chicken and waffles with a side of pancakes, I hate america.
My country didn't give me a chance. My identity theft, my inability to establish myself in my own society without suffering the consequences of being labled a financial delinquant. Other 22 year olds have flat screen televisions, a trip to vegas, a drug habit to show for their financial ruin, I just have my bad luck. Just an easy name, maybe a bank teller or a cleaver bum rummaging through my trash, someone who wanted the American Dream. Someone who bought furnature, a cell phone, a computer, someone who's heart beats everytime they hear sirens.
Everything is shit and I'm suppose to care about making a salary and buying a home. I fall in love with people who turn into addicts, head cases, angry, and miserable souls and I am suppose to just pretend I don't notice the demise of the people around me? Pretend getting a 9-5 job, saving up money for a home, getting married, and reproducing will what? Distract me? Make me happy? And I am suppose to want money?
In america everything is a comidity, being fat is a comidity. Their is a new reality television show about a man who likes bigger women. The plumper she is the closer she is to her fairy tale marriage. Fetish is comidity. Their are television shows about good looking men and woman eating bugs and bull testicals, and people sit in their dark livingrooms and cum in their pants. People I know have worked in porn shops, my friend purchased a pocket pussy, and in some states 16 year olds are allowed to strip but have a stage curfew of 11pm. I lost my virginity a week before my 16th birthday, have worn high heels that damaged my feet, and wore my almost naked body for halloween all through high school. America the manifestation of the dark corners and quiet things no one ever knows about anything Sex. America does not hold back, and I hate myself.
Heart disease is the number one killer in america and you cant escape television ads, bilboards, radio commercials, popups, website sponsors, little league jersys, the superbowl, and other sponsored american pastimes that all say the same thing: "stay active, consume small amount of calories from nutrient rich sources like fruits, vegtables, and whole grains, refrain from too much alcohol, and engage in stress relieving practices like meditating." Oh wait..."Dunkin runs on America, Have it Your Way, Think Outside the Bun, Pizza Hut Open Late Night, Budwiser, Corrs, The New Bud Light Lime......" Right, that's the message. Keep dying america.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Let me remind myself
It all gets mixed up pretty easily, the problem is, the worse it is, the better I feel.
So my dad gave me this very seriously concerned heart to heart talk yesterday. His concerns were of the following:
He says he see's me on facebook going to vermont, camping, and exploring mountains and hiking in CT. He says this in a mocking tone, says this like im some kind of crazy person.
He tells me stories, stories of parents who let their kids become bums, drug addicts, "no-nothings", and says he is worried that I am going to "waste away" after just graduating with a 3.7 from college. He says I shouldn't be sleeping until 11am everyday, I should be up early, working, working hard and long. Him and my sister are worried, worried that my four hours at GNC a day is only enabling a "layed back" lifestyle that allows me to continue this "hippie attitude"
Like...what?
My sister looks at me like I am some weirdo too. She tells me I am straight up "weird" for wanting to travel to places like Montana and Portland Oregon for the culture and the land. She tells me I am "weird" in almost every conversation we have.
But everyday I like the person I am becoming more and more. Everyday I am more true to who I am. I let the influence of mass culture affect me less and less. I have stoped being adaptably pleasent according to the company I am in. I started being more real, with everyone. I have lost some connections in doing so, but it's okay, I've made the ones I have held on to deeper. The most important connection in my life that I have lost I hope it will become deeper after the hurt this change has caused passes. I use to try so hard to relate to everyone, anyone, any crowed, give him, her, or them a reason to be impressed with me, to like me and want to be around me. But I wasn't always being real. It was hard work too. I was so concerned with the presentation of me, I forgot about the true me underneath. I did this even with my family for years. I mean, I went to an in state college and joined a major my father suggested (and didnt change it even when I wanted to because he said no). If I had followed my own desire at the time I would have gone to college in New York City and majored in Exercise Science. But, I am greatful for the experiences I had these past years and I remember my sophmore year sitting on the curb outside of Stop n Shop chatting with Matt at 1 in the morning about my after college plans. I told him I'd move out of connecticut and he wouldn't even let me continue, I remember he told me "your dad wont let you go, you wont go anywhere, you're going to do exactly what he says for the rest of your life" and I looked at him and I said "after college I am free to do whatever I want" and at the time I had no idea that I'd be where I am today, but I must have had the taste in my mouth. Of course at the time I was also saying it for him and now the difference is, I am free, and doing it for me.
So my dad gave me this very seriously concerned heart to heart talk yesterday. His concerns were of the following:
- That I was going to join a hippie comune in Vermont
- Become a bum
- Live without health care and car insurance
- Live a dishonest layed back life style
- Get away with not working at all
He says he see's me on facebook going to vermont, camping, and exploring mountains and hiking in CT. He says this in a mocking tone, says this like im some kind of crazy person.
He tells me stories, stories of parents who let their kids become bums, drug addicts, "no-nothings", and says he is worried that I am going to "waste away" after just graduating with a 3.7 from college. He says I shouldn't be sleeping until 11am everyday, I should be up early, working, working hard and long. Him and my sister are worried, worried that my four hours at GNC a day is only enabling a "layed back" lifestyle that allows me to continue this "hippie attitude"
Like...what?
My sister looks at me like I am some weirdo too. She tells me I am straight up "weird" for wanting to travel to places like Montana and Portland Oregon for the culture and the land. She tells me I am "weird" in almost every conversation we have.
But everyday I like the person I am becoming more and more. Everyday I am more true to who I am. I let the influence of mass culture affect me less and less. I have stoped being adaptably pleasent according to the company I am in. I started being more real, with everyone. I have lost some connections in doing so, but it's okay, I've made the ones I have held on to deeper. The most important connection in my life that I have lost I hope it will become deeper after the hurt this change has caused passes. I use to try so hard to relate to everyone, anyone, any crowed, give him, her, or them a reason to be impressed with me, to like me and want to be around me. But I wasn't always being real. It was hard work too. I was so concerned with the presentation of me, I forgot about the true me underneath. I did this even with my family for years. I mean, I went to an in state college and joined a major my father suggested (and didnt change it even when I wanted to because he said no). If I had followed my own desire at the time I would have gone to college in New York City and majored in Exercise Science. But, I am greatful for the experiences I had these past years and I remember my sophmore year sitting on the curb outside of Stop n Shop chatting with Matt at 1 in the morning about my after college plans. I told him I'd move out of connecticut and he wouldn't even let me continue, I remember he told me "your dad wont let you go, you wont go anywhere, you're going to do exactly what he says for the rest of your life" and I looked at him and I said "after college I am free to do whatever I want" and at the time I had no idea that I'd be where I am today, but I must have had the taste in my mouth. Of course at the time I was also saying it for him and now the difference is, I am free, and doing it for me.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Life's next chapter
"The clock is ticking" the legs remind the heart "and you know very well their will be plenty of time for you later." The heart takes a moment to think and asks its mother and father, the ribs for advice: "Well now, hear the rest of the body out, maybe a negotiation can take place" The heart beats on the arms for their opinion, suspecting reluctanct to give up a lover's embrace. "Well, we've actually already discussed this, and we have agreed, somewhat, that we would like to hold something other than a man for once." Surprised by their responce the heart turns to the hips, surely they'd have something to say in regard. "We are actually quite annoyed to tell you the truth heart, everytime we get use to a particular movement it's a matter of a year two and it gets switched up on us again, it's all just fleeting and meaningless and to tell you the truth a break would be quite nice."The heart fuming with anger and confusion begins to pound, "what will become of me?" But its only a matter of minutes before the brain, the god of the body begins to speak: "Now heart, you must realize that you are the most important organ, without you this change will not be possible. Soon it will be the beauty of nature that makes you flutter, the adventure of the unknown, the embrace of those in need who you help, the wisdom and wonder you touch in raw humanity. Trust me heart, it will compare" The heart began to race "Okay, I am ready"
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
HA
And I'll never write another life projection again...
I thought about it, and thought about it, and made some lists, and talked to some friends, and ran it by some family members but then I had some dreams and a chat with the universe, and I am doing it. I am applying to the peace corps, and will stop at nothing to get accepted. It is more than my plan A, it is my plan: everything.
It's a long process so meanwhile I am doing all that I can to enjoy the journey and take this time to connect with friends, nature, family, and reality.
I also have a confession to make, I think I am turning into one of those sickeningly optimistic persons. I cannot stop falling in love with everything and everyone around me. I suddenly had this epiphany, this bum rushed realization, that life is good, even when it isn't. It's like I can feel the clock inside of me, the ticking time bomb of death but instead of terrifying me it enlightens me and prodes me into seizing every passing moment. I'm finding it extremely difficult to do anything conventional, and sitting in front of the Television is absolutely unthinkable now. I think I am coming down with some type of mental illness, some type where I obsessively live in the moment and symptomatically feel consistently happy. Their are draw backs to this, however, I refuse to list them (suiting right?) but you can imagine.
I thought about it, and thought about it, and made some lists, and talked to some friends, and ran it by some family members but then I had some dreams and a chat with the universe, and I am doing it. I am applying to the peace corps, and will stop at nothing to get accepted. It is more than my plan A, it is my plan: everything.
It's a long process so meanwhile I am doing all that I can to enjoy the journey and take this time to connect with friends, nature, family, and reality.
I also have a confession to make, I think I am turning into one of those sickeningly optimistic persons. I cannot stop falling in love with everything and everyone around me. I suddenly had this epiphany, this bum rushed realization, that life is good, even when it isn't. It's like I can feel the clock inside of me, the ticking time bomb of death but instead of terrifying me it enlightens me and prodes me into seizing every passing moment. I'm finding it extremely difficult to do anything conventional, and sitting in front of the Television is absolutely unthinkable now. I think I am coming down with some type of mental illness, some type where I obsessively live in the moment and symptomatically feel consistently happy. Their are draw backs to this, however, I refuse to list them (suiting right?) but you can imagine.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Projection
Well here I am, just a few weeks away from the rest of my life. I think this is just as good of a time as any to lay out some projections, some goals, some hopes, and a dream or two.
In the next year I will...
In the next year I will...
- Find a Job! It can't be just any job, it has to be a meaningful job. I am not expecting to have my ideal job right away but It has to be at least a learning and growing experience to work there. If it is void of meaning then I must quit.
- Live with my cousin Christine! In an apartment think tank where we will feverishly write, create, research, discuss, entertain company, laugh, and live.
- Train for and run a half-marathon!
- Transform my life into an enviornmentally sustainable one
In the next five years I will...
- Take risks and jump on oppourtinities!
- Run a full marathon
- Learn how to grow plants and vegetables
- Get published
- Get my masters
- Live abroad again for a period of time (peace core, internship, or backpacking)
- Get more tattoos
Monday, April 27, 2009
I poked a hole through my subconcious, I got a tattoo that says strength in gaelic: Neart.
It excites me and it makes me feel proud because I am finally freeing myself from the judgement of others. I've wanted several tattoos for several years now but it's always been my dad, sister, and the pulsing thought of "what would they think?" that kept me from doing it. ("they" meaning my friends, future employers, future boyfriends, future students of mine). This is me and this is my body, this is me and this is my body, this is me and this is my life, this is me and this is my life, this is me and this is my future, this is me and this is my future, this is me and this is my experience, this is me living my life. These days that are creeping towards graduation are days that are brining me ever closer to a terrifying liberation. Where everything that comes after this is completely up to me. It only took 21 years to get to this place. I feel like I am going to explode with creativity all at once. Their are so many projects to launch, so much mental exploring to embark on, so many words to be written. I feel armed and charged with all of this inspired artistic energy I can't wait to have the time to release it.
It excites me and it makes me feel proud because I am finally freeing myself from the judgement of others. I've wanted several tattoos for several years now but it's always been my dad, sister, and the pulsing thought of "what would they think?" that kept me from doing it. ("they" meaning my friends, future employers, future boyfriends, future students of mine). This is me and this is my body, this is me and this is my body, this is me and this is my life, this is me and this is my life, this is me and this is my future, this is me and this is my future, this is me and this is my experience, this is me living my life. These days that are creeping towards graduation are days that are brining me ever closer to a terrifying liberation. Where everything that comes after this is completely up to me. It only took 21 years to get to this place. I feel like I am going to explode with creativity all at once. Their are so many projects to launch, so much mental exploring to embark on, so many words to be written. I feel armed and charged with all of this inspired artistic energy I can't wait to have the time to release it.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Movement
I woke up this morning with infinite energy, It was so unusual. I slept soundly from 11:30-4 but it was like 4:01 struck and my energy levels sky rocketed me out of slumber and into the waking world. Of course I tried to fight it at first looking at the clock and thinking about my long 12 hour day on campus (currently happening now) but I struggled to provoke myself back to sleep. I began the usual pre-lucid dreaming meditations I use whenever I cannot sleep but my mind could not focus. Eventually 6am struck and I decided to jot down some feelings in my material journal but it began to seem as if I woke up to worry. I was attempting to explain “what was wrong” but nothing was wrong, in fact everything felt incredibly right. So I put some new music on my IPOD and went for a nice long run. The air was the perfect temperature, it felt crisp and refreshing and whenever I stopped to catch my breath and take a slower pace the wind blew against me to cool me off. I was in sync with the universe this morning, I felt incredibly strong. When I returned I got ready for the day, prepared my meals, took a shower, cleaned my room, and did some homework all before my long day here on campus! I still feel great too! I’d like to thank my good nutrition habits for this but I think the pending right of passage into official adulthood called college graduation may also be sparking some adrenaline fueled energy…maybe not, maybe it’s both.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
I wish I had more time to start, develop, and finish stories
I get sick when I stand under powerlines for too long, you never notice really, you can't ever figure it out but it will happen when you've stopped dead in your tracks to talk into the little box when it makes noise is in your pocket and so we stand and I wait, and I wait, and before you know it if we wait too long then their I go, it happens. I hear you tell Jim "he throws up everytime we are outside" but I don't, I really don't, when we don't stop under powerlines I am completelty fine. In fact I've been keeping track and in the past 10 days it hasn't happened once, and it's because most of the days you left your box on the kitchen table or it didn't make noise in your pocket.
I heard Jim make a fat joke about me yesterday, said something about putting me on the tredmil, he didn't think I could hear him but I did. I didn't laugh, I just excused myself from the family room and looked for something to chew...I chew when I am sad, anxious, and mad. What I really felt like doing was telling you both to turn the damn T.V. off when you leave for work in the morning. It's always on, I can't hear myself think! And yeah ever since you started leaving it on for me my chewing has gotten worse not better and I'm up to 4 cans a day now. The damn thing makes me want to eat with all of those commercials...especially the bacon bits ads, but I haven't seen you bring those home in awhile. You try to feed me this bacon bots immitation crap, but I can tell the difference, it's not the one with the german shepard on the cover, instead it has a poodle on it.
I also felt like blowing up Jim's spot right then and there, telling you that on Wednesday and Friday nights when you work that second job, he doesn't even take me out, he locks me up in the kictchen, makes me use the bathroom there because he is too busy playing with his Christmas gift you got him 4 months ago. He doesn't even hear me ask him to go outside, he just talks into the T.V. and makes war noises up until a half hour before you come home. That's when he quickly cleans up my mess and lets me roam free as if I have been out and cared for the entire time....
I heard Jim make a fat joke about me yesterday, said something about putting me on the tredmil, he didn't think I could hear him but I did. I didn't laugh, I just excused myself from the family room and looked for something to chew...I chew when I am sad, anxious, and mad. What I really felt like doing was telling you both to turn the damn T.V. off when you leave for work in the morning. It's always on, I can't hear myself think! And yeah ever since you started leaving it on for me my chewing has gotten worse not better and I'm up to 4 cans a day now. The damn thing makes me want to eat with all of those commercials...especially the bacon bits ads, but I haven't seen you bring those home in awhile. You try to feed me this bacon bots immitation crap, but I can tell the difference, it's not the one with the german shepard on the cover, instead it has a poodle on it.
I also felt like blowing up Jim's spot right then and there, telling you that on Wednesday and Friday nights when you work that second job, he doesn't even take me out, he locks me up in the kictchen, makes me use the bathroom there because he is too busy playing with his Christmas gift you got him 4 months ago. He doesn't even hear me ask him to go outside, he just talks into the T.V. and makes war noises up until a half hour before you come home. That's when he quickly cleans up my mess and lets me roam free as if I have been out and cared for the entire time....
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Once their was you
I wish hating your parents for sending you to military school for two years was enough. Hell I wish being outside of military school was enough. They started treating you better after they met me.
"Wait till my dad see's you, he'll know then, he'll finally see that I am not such a fuck up, I can get a girlfriend, I can get a pretty girlfriend"
I just smiled, just smiled because you called me pretty and it was enough.
I pictured this cold hearted grumpy man, I pictured someone much like my mother and I didn't need to brace myself because I could deal with impossible adults, it was maybe even a little comforting thinking you may have had it like I did growing up.
What greeted me that sunday afternoon was hardly a grumpy man and his wife who was wearing a smile brighter than the august sun. "Wow you are pretty!" she said right away and I looked at you but you were fixated on your father's reaction which was a less bright but perfectly valid smile. "Thank you, nice to meet you" I said shyly finding your mothers first words pretty odd. Since when was I so pretty and what did the girls you use to date look like? We ate dinner and I was flooded with questions and these people were sincerely interested, they were hanging on my every word and at the time my words weren't all that interesting. I was a sophomore in college and all I knew was that I enjoyed my classes and liked talking about nutritional supplements at my part time job. These people were nice and they were a little difficult to receive. I kept looking at you during dinner for cues, was I talking too much? Enough? Was I saying the right things? You never looked at me, you kept your eyes on your father and he kept his eyes on me.
In the car ride back to your apartment you were ecstatic, you were talking so fast. At first I tried to keep up but after a few seconds I realized you were talking to yourself. "He knows now, he knows I'm not a fuck up or a looser. They believe in me now, they don't think I sit on my ass anymore, they know I'm a good person. They know I am doing something with my life, they respect me now." I smiled and nodded, I didn't have a clue who you were before me, I didn't have any idea what you were battling. If I had known maybe I would have said something profound something a little less cliche but much like "This is the first day of the rest of your life!" but instead I just smiled and didn't try to understand, I smiled and I listened and it was enough just to share your happy mood and it was enough to believe I must have made a good impression.
The weeks and months that followed made everything that came before make so much sense to me. At least that is how I saw it at the time. You spent many late nights with me on the phone, surprised me at school with flowers and kisses, you held my hand every time I wanted you to, and we played all of the time. We played outdoors feeding ducks, we rollerbladed, we went for hikes, you forced me to eat ice cream. That just made up for the dysfunction I suffered in my previous unhealthy relationships but what really changed my life was the family you helped me become a part of. Your parents saturated us with so much love I had completely forgotten that afternoon in the car and the preimagined impression of your father. Their were late nights sipping wine with your mom, their were times I laughed with your father until my stomach hurt, and their were unforgettable stories. I received a wealth of advice from your mother about the world of being a woman, love, men in general. Their were family vacations, the kind of family vacations every one should experience their was so much love.
For the first time in my life I didn't hate who I was and I no longer cried about my childhood or my own mother. It all made sense, everything had to be so bad because this was the part where everything finally felt so right, so completely good. It was no longer "poor me", the world was no longer "so unfair", and I didn't cry and when I mean I didn't cry I didn't cry anymore.
But it's not all about me now is it? It was actually more about you. When I was overwhelmed with the luxuries your family provided me I'd stop you in your tracks and tell you I couldn't go to Florida, I couldn't accept the bike, I couldn't allow your mom to take me on a shopping trip to the mall and you'd get completely serious with me, a little too serious. You'd say "you mean so much to us, you have to come, you have to accept, you make everyone so happy, you are an angel" Now "pretty" is a good compliment but angel is just too far out...Angels don't skip classes, tell white lies to their dads, have credit cards. I'd look at you quizzically, I'd say something like "but I don't deserve all of this and I'm not even as good a girlfriend as I could be" and you'd just laugh and tell me how much you loved me and tickle the concern away.
Eventually about a year later things became less storybook. You began calling me a little less, inviting me to your parent's house a little less, and you lost that cheer in your face. What does every girl suspect at times like these? Well it wasn't another girl. You were heading back into the battle zone, your demons were summoning you. This is when I started to get to know you....
At first I didn't know any better so I would smoke pot with you. But it was different than smoking pot with my friends or my roomates. We wouldn't get gigily, we wouldn't talk philosophy, well I would try but you would just get us ice cream and then space out in front of your laptop on freegames.org. I would just watch southpark and laugh by myself. I didn't even find it odd that I had never seen you smoke pot before I just figured you were experimenting like I was, I wasn't thinking about the fact that you were 4 years older than me, I wasn't thinking about a lot of things. It was enough just to be with you on the weekends even if you had lost your cheer and even if I didn't know why.
"Wait till my dad see's you, he'll know then, he'll finally see that I am not such a fuck up, I can get a girlfriend, I can get a pretty girlfriend"
I just smiled, just smiled because you called me pretty and it was enough.
I pictured this cold hearted grumpy man, I pictured someone much like my mother and I didn't need to brace myself because I could deal with impossible adults, it was maybe even a little comforting thinking you may have had it like I did growing up.
What greeted me that sunday afternoon was hardly a grumpy man and his wife who was wearing a smile brighter than the august sun. "Wow you are pretty!" she said right away and I looked at you but you were fixated on your father's reaction which was a less bright but perfectly valid smile. "Thank you, nice to meet you" I said shyly finding your mothers first words pretty odd. Since when was I so pretty and what did the girls you use to date look like? We ate dinner and I was flooded with questions and these people were sincerely interested, they were hanging on my every word and at the time my words weren't all that interesting. I was a sophomore in college and all I knew was that I enjoyed my classes and liked talking about nutritional supplements at my part time job. These people were nice and they were a little difficult to receive. I kept looking at you during dinner for cues, was I talking too much? Enough? Was I saying the right things? You never looked at me, you kept your eyes on your father and he kept his eyes on me.
In the car ride back to your apartment you were ecstatic, you were talking so fast. At first I tried to keep up but after a few seconds I realized you were talking to yourself. "He knows now, he knows I'm not a fuck up or a looser. They believe in me now, they don't think I sit on my ass anymore, they know I'm a good person. They know I am doing something with my life, they respect me now." I smiled and nodded, I didn't have a clue who you were before me, I didn't have any idea what you were battling. If I had known maybe I would have said something profound something a little less cliche but much like "This is the first day of the rest of your life!" but instead I just smiled and didn't try to understand, I smiled and I listened and it was enough just to share your happy mood and it was enough to believe I must have made a good impression.
The weeks and months that followed made everything that came before make so much sense to me. At least that is how I saw it at the time. You spent many late nights with me on the phone, surprised me at school with flowers and kisses, you held my hand every time I wanted you to, and we played all of the time. We played outdoors feeding ducks, we rollerbladed, we went for hikes, you forced me to eat ice cream. That just made up for the dysfunction I suffered in my previous unhealthy relationships but what really changed my life was the family you helped me become a part of. Your parents saturated us with so much love I had completely forgotten that afternoon in the car and the preimagined impression of your father. Their were late nights sipping wine with your mom, their were times I laughed with your father until my stomach hurt, and their were unforgettable stories. I received a wealth of advice from your mother about the world of being a woman, love, men in general. Their were family vacations, the kind of family vacations every one should experience their was so much love.
For the first time in my life I didn't hate who I was and I no longer cried about my childhood or my own mother. It all made sense, everything had to be so bad because this was the part where everything finally felt so right, so completely good. It was no longer "poor me", the world was no longer "so unfair", and I didn't cry and when I mean I didn't cry I didn't cry anymore.
But it's not all about me now is it? It was actually more about you. When I was overwhelmed with the luxuries your family provided me I'd stop you in your tracks and tell you I couldn't go to Florida, I couldn't accept the bike, I couldn't allow your mom to take me on a shopping trip to the mall and you'd get completely serious with me, a little too serious. You'd say "you mean so much to us, you have to come, you have to accept, you make everyone so happy, you are an angel" Now "pretty" is a good compliment but angel is just too far out...Angels don't skip classes, tell white lies to their dads, have credit cards. I'd look at you quizzically, I'd say something like "but I don't deserve all of this and I'm not even as good a girlfriend as I could be" and you'd just laugh and tell me how much you loved me and tickle the concern away.
Eventually about a year later things became less storybook. You began calling me a little less, inviting me to your parent's house a little less, and you lost that cheer in your face. What does every girl suspect at times like these? Well it wasn't another girl. You were heading back into the battle zone, your demons were summoning you. This is when I started to get to know you....
At first I didn't know any better so I would smoke pot with you. But it was different than smoking pot with my friends or my roomates. We wouldn't get gigily, we wouldn't talk philosophy, well I would try but you would just get us ice cream and then space out in front of your laptop on freegames.org. I would just watch southpark and laugh by myself. I didn't even find it odd that I had never seen you smoke pot before I just figured you were experimenting like I was, I wasn't thinking about the fact that you were 4 years older than me, I wasn't thinking about a lot of things. It was enough just to be with you on the weekends even if you had lost your cheer and even if I didn't know why.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Money is the route of all that kills
I was sitting next to him, well maybe not next to him next to him, not as if we were sharing a table or a friendship but I was sitting close enough to hear him speaking. At first it didn't sound like much more than the usual public murmer. I was reading and trying not to think about my identity theft problems when his words became clear:
"I am quiting Jake, I just can't take it anymore. I spent 120,000 dollars at Quinnipiac just so I can sit 40 hours a week in front of a computer screen while slowly repaying the devil that sold my soul to capitalism"
His friend or companion or roomate or lover or whatever he was chuckled "A little maldramatic are we? I hardly think you're doing so poorly. I wouldn't mind sitting in front of a screen most days of the week crunching numbers if I could drive around in that Acura and have my own penthouse."
But he continued "You don't understand dude, I hate that car it creeps me out, it monitors my temperature and adjusts its heating or cooling accordingly, it doesn't give a shit that I actually like being a little warm. It constantly nags me about where I am going even if I'd rather figure it out myself, once it insisted I take route 6 instead of highway 84 to willimantic and I got stuck in traffic for 2 hours."
His friend inturupted again with that obnixious chuckle "alright, alright, trade it back in for your 2003 piece of crap honda or give it to me and stop bitching already, the sky isn't falling"
"Jake you're not getting it though, it's not about the car it's about my career my fucken career which is ruining my life. I get up at 5:30 in the morning just so I can make it to work on time and after staring at the computer all day and stressing out about how to keep my boss in business and keep everyone happy while practicing my customer service skills and having lunch with my coworkers that bitch and moan like I am doing right now and it's the best damn part of my day all of that noise. Because I get home and I eat hotpockets Jake, most nights I fucken eat hotpockets do you know what is in hotpockets? Let me finish, so I eat my damn dinner in a box and then what do I do? I sit down in front of the television and I watch Survivorman maybe Simpsons or Family Guy reruns maybe on a good night I catch some great movie about some other lucky bastard who got to live some great adventure and fall in love with a beautiful girl at the same time and I just sit there and sometimes I eat ice cream"
"And?"
"Exactly! And? Their is no and, that's it! I fall asleep in front of the television if I am lucky or I take nyquil when I feel really cynical and I just want to skip it all, I don't do a damn thing. I've gained weight too."
"Okay, so why don't you write or work on something like you use to in college? You use to be into poetry"
"You don't get it Jake, I am too tired, I am too drained, too whiped from all of the energy I spend during the day. It's all I can do to plop myself in front of that television and not think about another tomorrow, another day with a screen and a phone, and problems"
"Alright, alright I get it, I do. So quit, it's not worth it do something else then"
"I am not qualified for anything else! This is my title, my degree, I am doing what I went to school to do. How will I pay for my rent, more schooling, my damn Acura if I quit?"
"Move back home, take out more loans, beg your parents for help"
"I don't know man, I don't know what I am going to do" He caresses his forehead with his left hand.
"I am quiting Jake, I just can't take it anymore. I spent 120,000 dollars at Quinnipiac just so I can sit 40 hours a week in front of a computer screen while slowly repaying the devil that sold my soul to capitalism"
His friend or companion or roomate or lover or whatever he was chuckled "A little maldramatic are we? I hardly think you're doing so poorly. I wouldn't mind sitting in front of a screen most days of the week crunching numbers if I could drive around in that Acura and have my own penthouse."
But he continued "You don't understand dude, I hate that car it creeps me out, it monitors my temperature and adjusts its heating or cooling accordingly, it doesn't give a shit that I actually like being a little warm. It constantly nags me about where I am going even if I'd rather figure it out myself, once it insisted I take route 6 instead of highway 84 to willimantic and I got stuck in traffic for 2 hours."
His friend inturupted again with that obnixious chuckle "alright, alright, trade it back in for your 2003 piece of crap honda or give it to me and stop bitching already, the sky isn't falling"
"Jake you're not getting it though, it's not about the car it's about my career my fucken career which is ruining my life. I get up at 5:30 in the morning just so I can make it to work on time and after staring at the computer all day and stressing out about how to keep my boss in business and keep everyone happy while practicing my customer service skills and having lunch with my coworkers that bitch and moan like I am doing right now and it's the best damn part of my day all of that noise. Because I get home and I eat hotpockets Jake, most nights I fucken eat hotpockets do you know what is in hotpockets? Let me finish, so I eat my damn dinner in a box and then what do I do? I sit down in front of the television and I watch Survivorman maybe Simpsons or Family Guy reruns maybe on a good night I catch some great movie about some other lucky bastard who got to live some great adventure and fall in love with a beautiful girl at the same time and I just sit there and sometimes I eat ice cream"
"And?"
"Exactly! And? Their is no and, that's it! I fall asleep in front of the television if I am lucky or I take nyquil when I feel really cynical and I just want to skip it all, I don't do a damn thing. I've gained weight too."
"Okay, so why don't you write or work on something like you use to in college? You use to be into poetry"
"You don't get it Jake, I am too tired, I am too drained, too whiped from all of the energy I spend during the day. It's all I can do to plop myself in front of that television and not think about another tomorrow, another day with a screen and a phone, and problems"
"Alright, alright I get it, I do. So quit, it's not worth it do something else then"
"I am not qualified for anything else! This is my title, my degree, I am doing what I went to school to do. How will I pay for my rent, more schooling, my damn Acura if I quit?"
"Move back home, take out more loans, beg your parents for help"
"I don't know man, I don't know what I am going to do" He caresses his forehead with his left hand.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
what a long strange night it turned out to be
What I have recently learned about myself along with commentary
1) I can convince myself of anything. I think this is mostly a good thing but it could also be dangerous. It allows me to be open and receptive to unique experiences, spiritual practices, and exploring different philospohies of thinking and perceiving. However it can be dangerous because just as I was lying in bed indulging in my thoughts I almost convinced myself that I should be back with my ex boyfriend because I allowed myself to reflect on our past from a different point of view.
2) I need a comfort spot. Too often I suffer from anxious thoughts when I am overwhelmed with obligations, chores, and responsibilities. Too often about money, the future, finding a companion, media, and feeling alone. Without realizing it I was using unhealthy scapegoats to avoid panic attacks. Now I have finally found a comfort spot that doesn't involve another person which is dependable and safe. It is the bookstore/library. I can spend hours reading in that place and it is therapeutic for me, it soothes me.
3) I don't want anything to do with Catholicism and I do not believe in Heaven. I have never been able to connect to this religion and I have a hard time believing I ever will. My dad insists that later in life I will want to go to church and subscribe to the catholic thought. I seek peace and happiness in spirituality and Catholicism only offers morality teachings and is founded on a promise that as long as we endure the present world's hardships and avoid sin that we will be granted a paradise in heaven when we die. How can such a place exist? Because happiness doesn't exist without sadness, and pleasure isn't felt until junxtaposed with pain so heaven sounds pretty dull to me. I would rather create my paradise right here right now on earth, and I think that may have been what Jesus really meant anyhow.
4) Addicted behaviors fascinate me and terrify me. I have had to consciously avoid addictions in my life and it's all because of a friend named Elena I had when I was younger who was wise beyond her years that I have always been so self aware. She told me when I was 8 that I had to be careful of addictions because I was likely to adopt one or several in my lifetime because of my mother.
5) Television depresses me. Watching it, listening to it, watching other people watch it, thinking about it, and realizing how much richer many lives would be without it. It all makes me incredibly sad and I don't want to even say anything more about it.
1) I can convince myself of anything. I think this is mostly a good thing but it could also be dangerous. It allows me to be open and receptive to unique experiences, spiritual practices, and exploring different philospohies of thinking and perceiving. However it can be dangerous because just as I was lying in bed indulging in my thoughts I almost convinced myself that I should be back with my ex boyfriend because I allowed myself to reflect on our past from a different point of view.
2) I need a comfort spot. Too often I suffer from anxious thoughts when I am overwhelmed with obligations, chores, and responsibilities. Too often about money, the future, finding a companion, media, and feeling alone. Without realizing it I was using unhealthy scapegoats to avoid panic attacks. Now I have finally found a comfort spot that doesn't involve another person which is dependable and safe. It is the bookstore/library. I can spend hours reading in that place and it is therapeutic for me, it soothes me.
3) I don't want anything to do with Catholicism and I do not believe in Heaven. I have never been able to connect to this religion and I have a hard time believing I ever will. My dad insists that later in life I will want to go to church and subscribe to the catholic thought. I seek peace and happiness in spirituality and Catholicism only offers morality teachings and is founded on a promise that as long as we endure the present world's hardships and avoid sin that we will be granted a paradise in heaven when we die. How can such a place exist? Because happiness doesn't exist without sadness, and pleasure isn't felt until junxtaposed with pain so heaven sounds pretty dull to me. I would rather create my paradise right here right now on earth, and I think that may have been what Jesus really meant anyhow.
4) Addicted behaviors fascinate me and terrify me. I have had to consciously avoid addictions in my life and it's all because of a friend named Elena I had when I was younger who was wise beyond her years that I have always been so self aware. She told me when I was 8 that I had to be careful of addictions because I was likely to adopt one or several in my lifetime because of my mother.
5) Television depresses me. Watching it, listening to it, watching other people watch it, thinking about it, and realizing how much richer many lives would be without it. It all makes me incredibly sad and I don't want to even say anything more about it.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
"Break these Arms Around the One I Love"
"And you don’t judge me
That’s not your style
But I won’t see you for a little while
And there’s no worries
Whose got time
All these changes are going to fill your mind"
And this is how we have carried on all these years, letting our lives take us away from one another. I don't think we ever sacrificed any experience, opportunity, or part of ourselves for the other, no we have always conveniently retreated into self fulfilled prophecies (apart). "I'll never hold you back." On the contrary all sorts of wonderful and not so wonderful unplanned events, experiences, and opportunities have brought us together. Good timing, friend's birthdays, coincidences, a best friend's trauma, another best friend's departure, and even a holiday.
Refreshed with intellectual conversation, loaded with new found optimism about the world, validated in our wits and thoughts, and awakened with the passion of our love. If it weren't for clocks some of those nights and mornings would have stretched on forever.
So grand experiences are on the horizon and once again they take place in physical distances far away from one another. We have already exchanged farewells, already broken the love spell. We ask ourselves lover after lover, countries and states apart: Will I always love you, will anything ever compare?
We are getting older now, loosing faith and maybe loosing our childlike belief in the meta-narrative of love conquering all. It's pretty silly when you think about it. Of course you should walk the Earth, come into your own, breathe life through your hands for a year and find your home in the mountains. Of course I should follow my adventure spirit and nurture my need to get out of the U.S. and use my health, youth, and energy to help, create, farm, or educate in a less industrialized civilization. Why should either of us give our dreams up for love? We wont, we never will.
And how happy I am that my looking glass self, my muse, my inspiration for so many parts of who I am today, my self reflective lover can go out in this world and carve out happiness and meaning, can live fully! I will live fully too and what can we feel towards one another other than fondness and admiration for the other even if it means we never cross paths again. And this is why we have never resented, scolded, begged, or held eachother back.
And just as before, soon enough you will become to me as I will become to you just a passing question, a momentary thought, during a lifetime apart.
That’s not your style
But I won’t see you for a little while
And there’s no worries
Whose got time
All these changes are going to fill your mind"
And this is how we have carried on all these years, letting our lives take us away from one another. I don't think we ever sacrificed any experience, opportunity, or part of ourselves for the other, no we have always conveniently retreated into self fulfilled prophecies (apart). "I'll never hold you back." On the contrary all sorts of wonderful and not so wonderful unplanned events, experiences, and opportunities have brought us together. Good timing, friend's birthdays, coincidences, a best friend's trauma, another best friend's departure, and even a holiday.
Refreshed with intellectual conversation, loaded with new found optimism about the world, validated in our wits and thoughts, and awakened with the passion of our love. If it weren't for clocks some of those nights and mornings would have stretched on forever.
So grand experiences are on the horizon and once again they take place in physical distances far away from one another. We have already exchanged farewells, already broken the love spell. We ask ourselves lover after lover, countries and states apart: Will I always love you, will anything ever compare?
We are getting older now, loosing faith and maybe loosing our childlike belief in the meta-narrative of love conquering all. It's pretty silly when you think about it. Of course you should walk the Earth, come into your own, breathe life through your hands for a year and find your home in the mountains. Of course I should follow my adventure spirit and nurture my need to get out of the U.S. and use my health, youth, and energy to help, create, farm, or educate in a less industrialized civilization. Why should either of us give our dreams up for love? We wont, we never will.
And how happy I am that my looking glass self, my muse, my inspiration for so many parts of who I am today, my self reflective lover can go out in this world and carve out happiness and meaning, can live fully! I will live fully too and what can we feel towards one another other than fondness and admiration for the other even if it means we never cross paths again. And this is why we have never resented, scolded, begged, or held eachother back.
And just as before, soon enough you will become to me as I will become to you just a passing question, a momentary thought, during a lifetime apart.
Monday, March 16, 2009
And I just found this really happy spot in my mind and I cannot, I can not stop smiling. How could I not when I am reminded of the playfully devious and romantic life I led as a teenager. I was reading a book preview online of The Perks of Being a Wallflower which is astonishing by the way that I have never read this text. The most infuenctial peers of my life have listed it as one of their favorites and somehow I missed that memo, I am reading it now. But how thankful I am for reading it now because I cannot go a few lines without pausing and smiling. Pleasent memories of my past are flooding my thoughts even the unpleasent ones are still welcomed because I lived so passionately when I was a teenager. I felt everything so deeply, and I dedicated myself to everything that was mysterious, magical, or whimsical, to any experience that was harmlessly rebelious, to anyone who endulged me and my thinking and talking too much self, my silly off beat behavior, oh and my sleepless energy. I feel those good parts of me returning laitly, I feel reconnected with my youth in a healthy progressive and optomistic way not a regressing, fear of becoming a responsible adult way (because I am totally kewl with that!)
Their are a few reasons I believe I have come to this point, it is the time I've spent recently in my home town with my good friends and companions from the past. The story telling has definetley gotten the ball rolling. It is also the concluding chapter of my undergrad career, the kind of thing that would make anyone gleefully nostolgic. I think however, it is mostly the newfound accepting of my past (those painful dark moments in my childhood) that has allowed me to release the happy memories and recognize the so very intensely good moments I whitnessed in my life thus far. I have been reliving happy moments I had completely forgotten about, moments I never want to loose again.
It was this epic moment I had where I was sitting at my mother's kitchen table familiarly disattatched to her words and keeping the tempo of my shaking foot to the second hand on the clock. I was waiting to leave.... in her company, I have always been waiting for one of us to leave. Suddenly something she says catches my attention, she has confessed to taking a book of mine to work. It's Omnivore's Dilemma and she tells me she really enjoyed it but was a little unsure about some of the concepts. Suddenly I am listening, suddenly I am aware of her. She begins asking me questions and we get into a lengthy discussion about America's food culture. After food culture we move to the topic of consumerism and I begin to tell her about a material cleansing I am going to begin soon and we begin to plan a day together rummaging through all of my stuff (their is so much!) and she gets excited thinking about sorting the goodwill from the goodkeeps (for her). Immediately following this nice chat she tells me in an anxiety ridden tone that by the way she also needs me out as soon as possible when I graduate because she needs more space. (for more stuff). Okay, so where is this epic moment? Well for the first time I stopped ignoring her as my mother and talked to her as a person. It was as simple as that. We don't get each other, we never will, if she were someone in one of my classes I would interact with her but I'd let bygones be bygones I wouldn't push it. I wouldn't beg her to come sleepover or bake cookies with me. The therapy, years of dating a dude just because he had a wonderful mother, drunken tears, hardly escaped addictions, and bam! I am having these waking life and sleeping dreams now that are nothing but pleasant reminders of my silly adolescent years and suddenly I feel incredibly blessed for my childhood, for my past.
So here is one of the oh so many good ones:
Before we had cell phones we had to synchronize our bedroom alarm clocks so that we could leave our houses at exactly the right time and not leave one another standing alone under the midnight moon, even as safe as our suburban neighborhoods were (this was pre inner-city assimilation time). Now there were many nights I snuck out my window and many late night strolls through those streets but this particular walk strums a cord in my memory because it happened to be a night where a particular feline companion joined me. I spotted her waiting for me at the end of my street and cooed to her softly “aw miss kitty just on time shall we meet Doak (Stephanie’s nickname)?” We walked like sisters side by side talking with our eyes. As I approached the intersection marked in my mind as a halfway mark I noticed two felines walking towards us. I looked down at miss kitty and she peered back up at me “so you told your friends to meet you here while I have to walk the rest of the way to meet mine alone?” We stopped for a moment when we met with the other cats. I told them to be safe and thanked miss kitty for her company and went on my way. I kept my eyes in back of me until I saw them turn away and escape into the night together, just as they left my eye sight I saw Doak in front of me. “Perfect timing she said!” and we both giggled nervously. Just as we met our friend Eric pulled up in his rusting Easter egg blue Oldsmobile. “Whatuuupp ladies!” We quickly jumped in and I turned to Doak and said “So most of the walk I was accompanied by a kitty, she followed me almost the entire way” They both paused and exchanged skeptical looks "and then we were greeted by two other cats at the intersection and it was like they were meeting up for midnight mischeif just like us!" I continued. Doak rolled her eyes and Eric said “is she rambling about cats again?” and we all erupted with laughter. We...(to be continued)
~KAT
Their are a few reasons I believe I have come to this point, it is the time I've spent recently in my home town with my good friends and companions from the past. The story telling has definetley gotten the ball rolling. It is also the concluding chapter of my undergrad career, the kind of thing that would make anyone gleefully nostolgic. I think however, it is mostly the newfound accepting of my past (those painful dark moments in my childhood) that has allowed me to release the happy memories and recognize the so very intensely good moments I whitnessed in my life thus far. I have been reliving happy moments I had completely forgotten about, moments I never want to loose again.
It was this epic moment I had where I was sitting at my mother's kitchen table familiarly disattatched to her words and keeping the tempo of my shaking foot to the second hand on the clock. I was waiting to leave.... in her company, I have always been waiting for one of us to leave. Suddenly something she says catches my attention, she has confessed to taking a book of mine to work. It's Omnivore's Dilemma and she tells me she really enjoyed it but was a little unsure about some of the concepts. Suddenly I am listening, suddenly I am aware of her. She begins asking me questions and we get into a lengthy discussion about America's food culture. After food culture we move to the topic of consumerism and I begin to tell her about a material cleansing I am going to begin soon and we begin to plan a day together rummaging through all of my stuff (their is so much!) and she gets excited thinking about sorting the goodwill from the goodkeeps (for her). Immediately following this nice chat she tells me in an anxiety ridden tone that by the way she also needs me out as soon as possible when I graduate because she needs more space. (for more stuff). Okay, so where is this epic moment? Well for the first time I stopped ignoring her as my mother and talked to her as a person. It was as simple as that. We don't get each other, we never will, if she were someone in one of my classes I would interact with her but I'd let bygones be bygones I wouldn't push it. I wouldn't beg her to come sleepover or bake cookies with me. The therapy, years of dating a dude just because he had a wonderful mother, drunken tears, hardly escaped addictions, and bam! I am having these waking life and sleeping dreams now that are nothing but pleasant reminders of my silly adolescent years and suddenly I feel incredibly blessed for my childhood, for my past.
So here is one of the oh so many good ones:
Before we had cell phones we had to synchronize our bedroom alarm clocks so that we could leave our houses at exactly the right time and not leave one another standing alone under the midnight moon, even as safe as our suburban neighborhoods were (this was pre inner-city assimilation time). Now there were many nights I snuck out my window and many late night strolls through those streets but this particular walk strums a cord in my memory because it happened to be a night where a particular feline companion joined me. I spotted her waiting for me at the end of my street and cooed to her softly “aw miss kitty just on time shall we meet Doak (Stephanie’s nickname)?” We walked like sisters side by side talking with our eyes. As I approached the intersection marked in my mind as a halfway mark I noticed two felines walking towards us. I looked down at miss kitty and she peered back up at me “so you told your friends to meet you here while I have to walk the rest of the way to meet mine alone?” We stopped for a moment when we met with the other cats. I told them to be safe and thanked miss kitty for her company and went on my way. I kept my eyes in back of me until I saw them turn away and escape into the night together, just as they left my eye sight I saw Doak in front of me. “Perfect timing she said!” and we both giggled nervously. Just as we met our friend Eric pulled up in his rusting Easter egg blue Oldsmobile. “Whatuuupp ladies!” We quickly jumped in and I turned to Doak and said “So most of the walk I was accompanied by a kitty, she followed me almost the entire way” They both paused and exchanged skeptical looks "and then we were greeted by two other cats at the intersection and it was like they were meeting up for midnight mischeif just like us!" I continued. Doak rolled her eyes and Eric said “is she rambling about cats again?” and we all erupted with laughter. We...(to be continued)
~KAT
Sunday, February 8, 2009
I want to be a Rockstar
I want to get my masters and become a nutritionist/dietitian
I want to join the peace corps
I want to be a cultural anthropologist and live and study tribal cultures
I want to be a sociological researcher and study addiction
I want to be a writer
I want to be a professor
I want to see more of the world but avoid tourist attractions and travel below the radar
I want to run a marathon and I want to train with a Grey Hound (although my friend Jules recently informed me that those pups arn't built for endurance, so I want to train with one that is)
I want to grow my own food
I want a Scottish fold
I don't want a television in my room ever again
I don't want expensive things
I don't want a fancy car
I don't want a huge house, I don't even want a pool
I don't want to read one more woman's magazine
I want to join the peace corps
I want to be a cultural anthropologist and live and study tribal cultures
I want to be a sociological researcher and study addiction
I want to be a writer
I want to be a professor
I want to see more of the world but avoid tourist attractions and travel below the radar
I want to run a marathon and I want to train with a Grey Hound (although my friend Jules recently informed me that those pups arn't built for endurance, so I want to train with one that is)
I want to grow my own food
I want a Scottish fold
I don't want a television in my room ever again
I don't want expensive things
I don't want a fancy car
I don't want a huge house, I don't even want a pool
I don't want to read one more woman's magazine
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