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| Uhm You Can't eat everything! |
| 07.30.04 (12:33 pm) [edit] |
I have been on this food binge for like two weeks now. I just eat what I want when I want and then worry about it later. It’s ridiculous. I eat ALL day…of course it doesn’t help that there is always food here at work. Cookies, candies, chips, sodas, sandwiches, chinese food, ice cream and list goes on.
No more damn it. I feel sick but keep eating cause I think I’m hungry. Yesterday I did my laundry and you know how after you wash your clothes they shrink back to their size. Well damn it this morning when I put my pants on I was like “what the fuck” I go stand in front of the mirror and nearly faint. It makes sense of course. I’ve eaten junk for two weeks now. Usually I am careful and don’t eat fast food and I stay away from sodas. I was going to go shopping for some clothes but that is going to cause an emotional crisis. So I’m going to put it off for another two weeks. I did it to myself of course.
I’m just complaining cause I want to kick myself in the ass. As much as I complain about not being in shape I don’t do anything about it. So I’m going to makes some changes and hopefully they will help. There has to be some way around this. Maybe I’ll eat peas & corn out of a can for two weeks during lunch. I’m going to the grocery store tomorrow because this will just not do.
I think its cause I quit smoking again. I can’t win. I have to not eat, I can’t smoke, I have to cut back on my drinking. Shit. I may as well just do speed and get it over with. Its fast and effective. I may be strung out the time but it’ll make me feel better.
O.k. I am over reacting…I just don’t want to get any bigger. I just need to buckle down and get some kind of motivation back into my body
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| So I can't make up my mind |
| 07.28.04 (2:19 pm) [edit] |
So sue me. A few weeks ago I told my roommate that I felt I needed to move out. I even started looking for apartments on Craigslist. Not the he isn’t a good roommate like he says he’s an “ideal” roommate. Then I started to think about why I wanted to go and even though I couldn’t quite pin-point it directly a little piece of me still feels like I should move on. It’s not really about him being a bad roommate. In fact it has nothing to do with him. We’re just in different places and we really don’t have that much in common anymore (it sounds like I’m breaking up with my significant other I know). We’ve just grown into different places. We don’t watch the same shows or movies. If fact I don’t think we really do all that much together anymore. Not that I expected him to be around 24/7 cause as much as I love him (and he knows I do) I couldn’t deal with that and I’m sure he feels the same way about me.
What I can tell you is that my restlessness causes my own discomfort. I don’t like to feel like I’m going to be stuck. I don’t want to just get up in the morning and go to work and come home. That isn’t going to make me happy. I don’t want to just stay at this job cause I don’t have any more options. (more than not it’s exactly how I feel). I don’t want to just sit around and wait for life to happen to me. I suppose not all of us can live such an exciting life. It can’t always be flowers and roses. I’m not unhappy. I’m just not satisfied with anything.
I need change. I need for something to be constantly happening. Maybe it’s cause I quit smoking again and I binged on alcohol this weekend and as much as I want to continue to do it I have to not let myself go. Maybe it’s the realization that as a kid I REALLY believed that I was meant for greater things. I REALLY did. It bothers me that as kids we have all these hopes and then one day you wake up and you don’t know what the fuck happened. I feel as though I was stinted and that someone out there robbed me of the life I was supposed to lead. It’s amazing how I can switch from one extreme to the other. How one minute I’m funny and witty and the other I’m in the “Fuck the world” mentality. It reminds me of this amazing woman that I once knew she told me and I quote cause I have never forgotten it “***** you have too many walls. Happy walls but you need to learn to find a medium.”
Ever since I do give it a go. Let’s find something to inspire me. Let’s find something that will give me that extra lift. Let’s find that ‘happy place’ (you have no idea how fucken ridiculous that sounds to me). Let’s find that medium. Let me tell you that medium is a tricky son-of-a-bitch. Sometimes I just don’t care. I do what I have to do cause I have bills to pay. Because “responsibility” is what the rest of the world is about.
But if in the end that’s all that is left then what? Right now I am 27. In three years I’ll be 30. If in three years I can’t turn around and say “I’m in a better place now than I was then” what do I do? If I look back now and think about when I was 21 I can say “eh you fucked up but it’s all right” and that has to be good enough because I can not change it. I’ve learned that much in the last couple of years. That change is going to happen. I have to be ready for it. I feel like that’s what I’m looking for now. Some kind of change cause right now for me personally nothing is good enough.
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| NASA (Nice Ass Starer Anonymous) |
| 07.26.04 (11:42 am) [edit] |
So I am going to start an anonymous meeting for this medical condition because I AM ADDICTED.
“Hello my name is ***** and I…..I like nice asses.”
The crowd would clap and pat my on my back or my ass which ever comes first and then we would go around the circle and tell our stories. We’d talk about running into walls and neck aches. We’d talk about wanting to bite them when they walk by.
“I just want to touch it,” we’d say together.
Maybe we’d even go ass-watching together when it got to be too much. We’d just sit there and think “damn” and shake our heads. It wouldn’t matter if we were straight or not cause a nice ass is a nice ass and I think anyone would agree. Especially when they are in hip-hugging jeans….goodness who ever invented those things owes me an explanation. Not that I am complaining people…I mean it could be worse. I could be an alcoholic or something but no I am a Nice Ass Starer and I have to be o.k. with this. I think that once I get my Bootyoligist Degree I will be able to deal with the situation much better. I will be able to test for bounce-cosity (J gets credit for this) and enable others to deal with their problems. I will write a book and share with the world. I will bring others forward and then we shall all help each other over come this addiction.
The first rule of NASA is
1. There is no NASA.
2. Those who are in NASA cannot talk about NASA.
3. If you talk about NASA you are out, no exceptions.
4. If it is your first time at NASA you must admit your addiction.
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| It's 9 o'clock in the morning |
| 07.23.04 (10:59 am) [edit] |
I’m wishing I were sitting at a bar with a glass of whiskey in front of me. I haven’t drunk whiskey straight up since I was 19 or 20 I think. I drank a bottle of Jack Daniels on the way back from a trip to Reno with my then best friend, her brother and his wife. We had spent the weekend getting high and drunk. I hardly remember it really. We had the liquor left over and there was a four-hour drive ahead of us. I convinced her to drink it with me on the way back while we sang along to the radio. She was always careful. There was a side of her that I brought out. One that she was unsure of. She looked at me with smiling eyes and said o.k. So it began. We drank swig after swig. Passing it back and forth in the cab of the truck while her brother and his wife laughed at our silly antics. By the end I was crying. I don’t remember what caused it to happen. I just remember lying on her lap and she was running her hands through my hair. The reality was that I hated how she made me feel. I don’t remember what I had said or how she responded but as it turned out we never talked about it again. Thinking of it even now makes me sick to my stomach. We remained friends however. So it must not have been that bad. I talk to her every now and again. She has twin girls and married her high school sweet heart.
Last night I watched a movie that made me ache. (I’m thinking I should give up watching movies off Netflix they are the devil). Anyway. It made me ill. I got up from watching it and I wanted to cry. (I’m also thinking I have become an emotional cripple). I’ve watched lots of movies. Lots of them. For some reason this one hit me right in the gut. It’s a love story. One that was laced with imagery and angst. It was ugly and beautiful. It was real. There is one thing that I like about movies. You can role your eyes and call it lame. You can watch the beautiful people. You can say things like “Who says shit like that?” and throw popcorn at it. You can laugh them off cause for the most part they all have happy endings.
This one did too but I wanted it to be over. I didn’t turn it off cause I wanted to see how it ended. It was about falling in love. The uncertainty of it all. Damn it to hell if I didn’t hate and love every minute of the film. How contradicting can I be? It reminded me of things. How much it aches to not be able to love the one you want. Someone asked me a question not too long ago and I brushed it off with humor (as always).
“You really think you won’t ever fall in love again?”
It rang in my ears last night. How many are fortunate to touch love (the real love) more than once. The kind that makes you breathless. The kind that leaves you restless and aching. The kind that makes you jealous and weak. The kind that at some point you feel is too much. Some are probably luckier than others if it’s happened more than once. Or maybe I’m just jaded from the thought.
It’s easy to love anyone I suppose. They fill in the blanks. They make the other side of the bed not seem so cold. They tell you things you want to hear. They fill an empty. They give hope for the future and you don’t feel so alone. I think that is what people fear the most. The alone. Being “in love” however, is different. It’s not made for convenience or out of fear. It’s not forced or rushed. It’s like magic. (How many times have you heard that one I know) but I only believe it cause it happened once. Since then I don’t know that I’ve been the same. At times I become vulnerable to the past (like last night) but I don’t live in it anymore. It’s taken me so long to get to where I am. They say you never forget the one “true love”. It’s a romantic thought to me. I don’t know that I’ll ever feel that way about anyone again. The thought of anyone feeling that way for me is even worse. Once again it makes me sick to my stomach.
Maybe that’s why it’s become a thing for me to find ridiculous crushes to drool over. They are safe. They are funny and not real in my world. I can separate from them and not think twice. That’s all they will ever be. It’s my way.
Though I do crave that feeling of surrender, I don’t want it. Not really. There have been instances, I think maybe once or twice since I’ve been home where there was a definite attraction. Time and chance however stole moments like that from me and I have to be all right with it. Though people in general peak my curiosity I have never been it for the long run. It’s not for me. If I am going to feel…let me feel as it happens and then let me learn to forget as soon as it’s over.
So tonight I’m going to sit at the edge of that bar. I’m going order a stiff Jack and drink it slow. I’m going to remember why it hurt to watch that movie. I’m going to remember what it felt like to want someone with that kind of passion. I’m going to be silent in my ache and play the songs on the jukebox. Then I’m going to go home and lay in my big bed and tomorrow I’ll be back at forgetting.
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| The Blue Waters |
| 07.21.04 (3:47 pm) [edit] |
Her body glistened as she came out of the water. It moved off of her curvy figure like a slow tango on a summer night. She brushed her hair back with her hands. I wondered if all the girls did that. It must be an automatic thing. She adjusted the back of her suit and smiled as she sunk into the towel beside me.
“The water feels good,” she said reaching for the tanning lotion.
“Does it?” I asked as I sat up on my elbows.
The white sands kissed the blue waters. I tilted my head back and let the sun bare itself on me. What a hungry lover it must be. Kissing all the bodies. Leaving its mark on their skin. I’m almost jealous thinking about it. There is a slight breeze and I reach for something to drink.
“Why don’t you hand me one of those?” she says.
She turns over on her back and takes the cold beer from my hand. I watch her for a second. She puts the bottle to her lips and I watch her drink. I like the way her lips wrap themselves over the rim. I sit up completely and brush the sand off my body. I have sweat running down my back. There is something about being here right now. I try to think of when I had ever felt this content. Its simplicity was almost a slap in the face. I didn’t miss the city. I felt light and alive. A cool breeze brushed across my face. It sent chills down my spine. I let my eyes wander over her to her again. She was watching me.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing I’m just watching you,” she says through squinted eyes.
I turn onto my stomach and take a drink from my beer. The cold liquid makes my nipples stiffen a little. The tiny bubbles make their way into my stomach. I turn back to her and she still has her eyes on me. I can’t read her. That was never part of the game. I stayed close enough to have her but far enough to not be completely emerged in her. I preferred it that way. Her dark hair was messy from the wind and the salt water. She looked like someone from a far off place. Not like some of the girls I had met along the way. She seemed real to me. She was reckless and free. It stunned me that someone could have that liberty.
“What do you see?” I asked teasingly.
She leaned towards me. I could smell the mix of sea and coconut on her skin. I felt a slight yearning to touch her. She looked behind us and then looked back at me. I watched the couple in front of us kiss. I wasn’t expecting an answer. It wasn’t a real question to me.
“You want to go in the water?” she asked.
I finish the rest of my beer, “Yeah sure.”
We get up and go towards the water. She walks slightly ahead of me. I watch her body move. I was guilty of such things. I wanted her. I start a slow jog and pull her in with me. There is a slight scream before we both go under. We were submerged, entangled and just like that it was over as we came up for air.
“Asshole,” she said half laughing.
I jumped further in. I liked the way the cool water danced over my hot skin. The sun had left its lovers mark on me. There was a slight sting on my shoulders. I could feel it as my arms swung in and out of the water. The waves crashed into me and I came up for air. I looked back to see where she had gone. She was sitting on the edge of the water staring out. I couldn’t tell what she was looking at and I went under again. It felt slow and silky. The affects of the beer were kicking in. I wished I didn’t have to come back up. I held it until I felt my lungs were going to burst. I pushed off the bottom and breathed deep as soon as I surfaced. I looked to see where she had gone. She was now standing shading her eyes from the sun with her hands. I waved and she put her hands on her hips. I swam back towards the shore.
“What?” I ask.
She just stood there, “I hate when you do that. I didn’t know if something had happened.”
I push her arm slightly, “You worry too much.”
We walked back to where we had been sitting. We grab our towels and pat dry before sitting back down. I listened to the crashing of the ocean. That’s what it felt like when I was with her. I lay back and closed my eyes. I let the sounds surround me. There were voices intertwined with the breeze and the sound of the sand rustling along. I wanted to stay like this. I wanted to lay there forever and feel like nothing could make this feeling go away. She was looking for something. I open one eye.
“What are you looking for?” I ask.
“My cigarettes,” she says.
“They are under the tank top in the bag,” I say.
She lights one and drinks the rest of her beer. I wanted to know what she was thinking. We talked about a lot of things. I wondered sometimes if there was more to say. I hated that she would look me straight in the eyes when we talked. I wasn’t used to that. I avoided it when I could. When it happened we’d both smile and move on. We’d look at something else. I inhaled as she blew out. Taking part of her into me. I wondered why we couldn’t talk about the things we wanted to say. I was always like that. I avoided what was inside. I knew that what I felt didn’t matter if it wasn’t made known. I held on to the possibilities of everything. I wanted to make them mine. I suppose inside I was the silent hero. I was the one that everyone loved but no one could tell.
“Hey help me put some of this lotion on,” she said.
She turned over and I sat on her back. She lifted her hair out of the way. I let the lotion fall on her. Her back arched a little. I knew it would be cool especially after being out in the sun all day. Her skin became goose bumps as I worked the lotion onto her shoulders, down her spine, to the small of her back. A brief thought of wanting to kiss her there crossed my mind. I smiled slightly. My hands covered her body gently. I was given this liberty. When I was done she asked me to put some on her legs as well.
“You can do that,” I said.
“I don’t want to move and it feels good,” she said.
I didn’t want to touch her anymore. I didn’t want to become vulnerable to her. I told her to not be lazy and put it on herself. She sat up and looked at me then offered to help me put some on. I lay down on my stomach again. I put my head on my hands and waited for the cool to cover me. She sat on the small of my back. When the lotion hit me I did the exact same thing as she did and I laughed nervously. Her hands felt good on my back. My hands gripped the towel slightly. It sent chills down my spine and this guilt swept over me. When she finished she got off and sat back down. She said that she had to go soon. I knew it was coming. The end always sweeps moments away. I walked her to her car and told her to be careful on the ride home. She closed her door and drove off.
As I prepared dinner later that night I was startled when a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around me. His lips grazed my ear as he whispered hello. My skin crawled. He smelled of day old cologne and sweat. He turned me around, placing a quick kiss on my cheek.
“Hello you,” he said.
I gave him a welcoming kiss before turning back to finish cutting up the salad. I loved him there was no doubt in my mind. He brought comfort and security. He washed his hands and offered to set the table. I watched as he stripped his work shirt off and walked around in his wife beater and jeans. He looked at me and winked. His broad smile drove me mad. I walked over to him and pushed him against the counter. I needed him then. It was her fault but there was no safety there. There was nothing but uncertainty. I looked into his eyes. This is where I belonged I told myself. When we kissed I couldn’t help but think of her. That quickly diminished when I felt his hungry hands roam over me. He pulled back and kissed my chin. I was wet from the lust. It didn’t matter who had caused it as long as I found some kind of cure.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t cook anything that would spoil,” he said after.
We had been laying lazily on the couch for an hour. There were clothes thrown everywhere. I listened to his heart beat against his chest.
“Yeah,” I said.
“How was the beach?” he asked.
I thought of her body laying under the sun, “Good. It was really warm out.”
“That’s cool,” he said getting up.
He never asked anything else. I wondered what he would say if he knew how the thought of her lit my body on fire. I wondered how he would feel if I told him that I needed to experience her. He’d take from it. He’d want to be a part of that but I didn’t want to share that with him. I wanted to have her for me. I felt selfish and guilty. I got up and slipped on my shorts. I walked out onto the porch just as the sun set. The cold air gave me goose bumps but I didn’t care. I wanted to feel the air. I wanted to forget how she made me feel.
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| Somebody's Hero |
| 07.20.04 (10:59 am) [edit] |
As a kid I used to dream of saving my mom from the drunkenness of my father. I dreamt that if we ever crashed when my dad was driving us home after boozing all day I’d drag my family out of the car. I hated getting in the car with him. At the time he had no regard for us. He thought he was unstoppable. I hated him. I hated him for being such a brute. He was always rough around the edges. He was always dictating and he never did any wrong. I wondered what made my mother stay. There were three kids to feed. She couldn’t make it alone. I remember that a certain point in my life I didn’t want to save either one. My mom became just as bad. Unlike most kids I hated the weekends. I knew what was coming.
I would bury myself in the tenderness of other people, even then I took what I could get. I remember when I was in the second grade I missed a week of school. One of my brothers had gotten sick and then the other followed right after. Neither of my parents could miss work. It wasn’t an option at the time. So as the oldest and as the only girl I had to make sure they were all right. I was 7 or 8. Of course I was told the rules and how I couldn’t answer the phone or the door. Being me however, I’d never listen. My aunts and uncles lived near by and sometimes they would come check on us. One day the door rang and I ran to answer it. You had to buzz the person in. I looked out to see who it was that was there. In the window you could see her face clear as day. She was looking in to see if anyone was going to answer. It was Miss Gonzales (I still remember her name) my second grade teacher. My heart stopped. I remember being scared and instead of buzzing her in I went to open the door. I didn’t want her to go upstairs. I didn’t want my parents to get in trouble.
I don’t remember the exact dialogue but I do remember her. There was something that I liked. I think it was cause she spoke Spanish and at the time my English was still really broken up. She came and told me that she had missed me in class (I’m sure she thought I was kidnapped) and was wondering why I hadn’t come. I explained that I had been sick. She told me that I needed to make sure my parents called the school. It was around Christmas and she had brought me a stocking (she had given one to all the kids). It made me feel warm inside. Of course at the time I didn’t realize that my parents would question where it came from and I hugged her quickly and said goodbye. I was still a kid after all. I ran upstairs to open the stocking. I shared some of the candy with my brothers and tried to hide the stocking. I didn’t want to get rid of it. It was mine. My father whooped my ass with a belt later but it was worth it. He hated me cause I refused to cry. Maybe if I had been like my brothers and just started to cry when they saw the belt I wouldn’t have gotten it so bad. Even though I was a kid I knew how to play him. I paid but I loved pissing him off.
So for years I would bury myself in these illusions of saving the world from people like my father. Then later on in my life I would have dreams of saving the world from people like my mother. Now I know that I can’t save anyone. No matter how much I want too. What brought this all about you may be wondering…Saturday evening I was at home and I was starting to fall asleep when I thought I heard a cry. So I sat up and listened for a minute. I know I was tired so I brushed it off and settled back into my pillows. Just as I lay down again I know I heard something.
“Fuck,” I whispered. I got up and got a cigarette from my pack. I figured if I heard it while I was outside smoking then I knew it wasn’t my mind playing tricks on me. I lit my smoke, inhaled and let it out slowly. That’s when all that rushed at me. In the middle of the night while I smoked and waited to see if I heard something. Soon enough I did. It was a violin playing. I couldn’t tell which window it was coming from but I could tell why I thought it may have been a cry. I had to laugh at myself. I took a couple more drags before throwing the butt into the night.
“You can barely save yourself ****,” I whispered. I sat there for a minute watching the ash from the cigarette go out. There was a slight breeze that sent chills up my back. I closed the back door, clicked off the kitchen light and walked into my dark room. As I lay there on my back I listened for the violin but it had stopped. My clock read 1:30 am. I had to be up in five hours. I was going to be tired in the morning. I wasn’t going to be in the mood for anything. I turned on my side and watched the shadows that the backlight threw onto my walls. I breathed deep and wished for some rest……
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| Magnetic |
| 07.16.04 (2:32 pm) [edit] |
There is a magnetic energy that comes from meeting someone. There is friction but it’s the good kind. There is uncertainty and the feeling of something new. “Someone” was holding a number hostage. One that I knew I had to have.
“Hello,” she says
“I just wanted to let you know that my roommate was holding your number hostage,” I say.
There was a laugh, “It’s *****” I had forgotten to say hello. I can hear the smile on the other end.
“Hey,” she says.
“He’s being an ass and using it against me so I got it from upstairs,” I realize how dumb this conversation really is. I’m sure she didn’t care that he hadn’t given it to me. I wanted something witty to say.
“Well that’s nothing new,” she says.
“What isn’t?”
She laughs again, “Him being an asshole.”
I had to laugh. I ask her what she’s doing and then realize that I should let her go. The reason that I had called her was over. Instead the conversation was steady yet broken.
“Well I guess I’ll let you go. I’m not trying to keep you I just wanted to share that information,” I say.
“Well you have my number now so use it. We can hang out sometime,” she says.
There was a brief silence. For some reason that caught me off guard.
“Uhm yeah o.k. I’ll give you a call,” I say.
Why did I feel like those teenage girls in those bad teenage movies that are talking to their secret crushes but can’t really find the words to say. Not that I have a crush but there is this (thing) ((that is what I’ll call it until I figure it out cause I think too much sometimes and maybe she just likes me)) I think she knows it too. From the first day it was like we were homies from the block. You just click sometimes. That’s all there is too it. It reminds me of when I met Fudgeface and here we are. Homies, miles and miles and many funnies apart but still comfortable enough to call each other to share the dumbest moment of the day. We compare notes.
Cruzando tells me she’s in theatre. I think she’s sexy in a theatrical kind of way. I can’t really explain it any better than that. Hmm. Yeah that’s where we’ll leave it. Since I’m always obsessing over things like this. I’ll obsess in my head. Sometimes it’s just better that way. Next week it will be something else.
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| I felt it last night |
| 07.15.04 (3:06 pm) [edit] |
I had it back for a minute I had it back. A group of us girls went to have a drink after work yesterday. It started with the sex kitten saying something and then I agreed to go (of course right?) and so we got a crowd going. We went to my bar. It was empty but it didn’t matter. We sat at the table. We ordered our drinks. I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was worried that the conversation wouldn’t flow. I was worried that I’d get bored cause I can only look at her for so long before someone else notices. At one point (and a few drinks later) I don’t know where everyone went. It was just her and I, we had this conversation about her boyfriend. I watched her lips move and hardly heard a word that was coming out. She leaned forward and I leaned back. Wait that’s not the reason I’m writing this. Back to the story.
It felt great to sit there and laugh and have random ass conversations with people. We weren’t there for any other reason than to have a drink and enjoy each other’s company. I really had forgotten what that was like. When I went out it had stopped feeling like that. There we were. Five ladies from completely different backgrounds enjoying a round of drinks. We had agreed that we would just have one and I’m sure no one anticipated wanting to hang out longer than that (we do work with each other after all). Then it was nine and no one had any money left but no one wanted to go home. I lived the closest and the kitten wasn’t in driving conditions so I offered my place. Everyone was down to go. We went out happy and giddy and buzzed and light.
I sighed. It wasn’t exactly what I expected but it put me at ease. Having them there. Having them want to hang out at my place. We pick up a six pack on the way home and once we get there the weirdest thing happened. They all wanted to see my room. I pointed and they invaded my space. They jumped on my bed. They looked through my CD’s and the few pictures I had out. It was like they belonged there. I put the six pack in the fridge. I popped open a beer for them all and handed it to them. We grab my radio and I tell them to pick a CD while I got some food out. I cooked dinner while they mingled and danced in my living room. The sex kitten fell backwards onto the couch and I almost pissed my pants cause I was laughing pretty hard.
They tell me to call my roommate cause they think he’s a hottie. (ewwww). I call him and tell him that we are there and to come over. He was hesitant and I tell him to let me talk to his partner. I beg him to convince the other one to come on and since I wouldn’t shut-up they agreed. I ask him to bring me some beer and he agrees. From the little time that it took to get to our place they keep telling me to call him to make sure he doesn’t flake. So I do cause its fun and I want to make sure he didn’t forget the beer. When they get there everyone says hello and he is tired but he mingles for a little while. We are still drinking and dancing. For some reason we toasted and then someone tried to top my beer and she proceeded to top everyone’s beer as well, so we had to guzzle most of it (cause we don’t waste liquor in dis house yo).
It seemed that no one wanted it to end. We knew we had to get up early and when Cruzando went to bed it was their cue to go. I was drunk (obviously) but they seem to think that I acted otherwise. So that was for sure a good thing. I made no embarrassing confessions and I went to bed at a decent hour. This morning I had to take a cold shower to wake myself up but there was no hangover. Only that queasy feeling but that I can deal with. All day we’ve been laughing at each other cause of the dumb things from last night.
It felt good to be in good company. It felt good to just hang out with random people. It felt good to laugh and be retarded without worrying about who was there. I like it. I missed it. I missed the interaction and just letting go.
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| The Smell of Crayons |
| 07.13.04 (11:38 am) [edit] |
Yesterday after purchasing some kick ass CD’s from best buy I strolled over to the art store. I was going to go grocery shopping with my roommate. I had about 45 minutes to kill. The sun hadn’t gone down yet. There was a slight breeze and the smell of hot dogs and Pet-Co filled the air. I stripped the CD’s from their plastic wrappers. It is my way of claiming them. Usually I run for the car to play the purchase in the parking lot. Yesterday I wished I had a CD player since I don’t have a car. It’s this compulsive need to listen to them then and there. I opened them and flipped through the sleeves instead and it calmed some of the anxiety.
My roommate and I have been discussing our lack of artistic motivation. So he said that someone suggested finding another source for the outlet and that it would help bring some of it back. I figured the arts and crafts store would be a good start. So I go in with an open mind. I hadn’t decided what my alternate outlet was going to be. He did hand over his camera to me but I don’t get out often enough to use it properly so I thought I would try something else. There was a scrap book option, stamping, painting a bird house, model cars and planes, canvas painting, candle making, bead making, mask making etc etc. None of it really appealed to me. So I continue to walk down the different sections. It’ll come to me. I didn’t feel rushed or pressured into finding anything since I was just looking to begin with.
I walk down the kids’ part of the store. Can I just say that they have the neatest little options but what caught me was the smell of the crayons. I walked past the glitter and the markers and the fuzzy painting posters. I really wanted to get a model set but then I would have to buy all the supplies on top of that. I used to do it as a kid with my church group. While everyone else’s patience ran out with the details of the car or planes (depending on what we were working on) I basked in it. I loved the gluing and the painting of the smallest pieces. Same thing with puzzles I would beg to buy the ones with the same pattern so that it would take me days and days vs. the two hours that came with the obvious picturesque kinds. Anyway so there I was contemplating all that when I saw the coloring section. I smiled and looked through the books.
There they were begging me to color them in. Fill me with life they said. Don’t put me back on the shelf. Then I turned around and looked for some crayons. I wanted the box with the most but they were out so I got the ones with 64 colors instead. The book and the crayons cost me $4.00 and I was so excited. Really I couldn’t contain the want to run home and color. Last night I told me roommate I was going to sleep. I closed my door put in one of the new CD’s and colored my Tom & Jerry coloring book on my bed. I didn’t want to share my experience with him. He asked me if we were going to color when he saw what I had bought. I had told him no. He has to find his outlet on his own this one was mine.
On the funny side. I managed to spill a cup of coffee on my pants this morning. I look like I totally pissed myself. What was astounding was that I didn’t get mad. Not in the slightest. I sat and laughed. I am sitting here with a fan facing my crotch area. I am cold and wanting some chicken noodle soup. I don’t want to get up until it dries. Thank goodness I wore brown pants today and not the khakis. Reminds me of the time that Stormy spilled her coffee on her uniform and informed everyone that she was walking around with a “hot crotch” for the first half hour of the day.
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| The Love Train |
| 07.12.04 (10:30 am) [edit] |
I was watching this movie Saturday night, you’d think I would be trying to get some sleep but that’s neither here nor there. The movie was about this twelve year old boy’s adolescent love. I won’t get too much into the actual movie. The point of this entry really was that there is this scene where she is leaving the town and you can see the boy is torn by it. He races on his bike to make it to the station so he can watch her go.
What I noticed is the way the train starts to pull out of the station. What I noticed is that he waited for the last caboose to go before leaving the station. He didn’t ride his bike. He walked it out with his head low.
What it brought to mind is that’s how it feels like to fall out of love. It starts slow. Some walk away as soon as the train starts. Some wait for that last caboose to get out of sight. I waited till I couldn’t hear the train blow its whistle anymore. It brought to mind so many things.
It feels like a hangover. It hurts and everything aches. It seems to never go away. Sometimes it feels like I’m still sitting at the station waiting for the first glimpse of the train to come back. Sometimes I’m glad its over. Sometimes I wish I had never gone.
I don’t know what made me think of this analogy. It was this first time I had thought about it in a very long time. I can’t seem to word what I want to come across in this entry. It’s just something I thought about. It’s something that I wanted to put down.
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| A Letter to My Mind |
| 07.08.04 (12:08 pm) [edit] |
You and I need to have a little talk my friend. As much as I love the clutter up there and the way you ignore all uncomfortable feelings. I think you need to just slow down for a bit. You are giving me constant headaches. You are starting to really drive me mad. Especially with this no non-sense situation that you have going on. While I do sympathize with the constant issues that we have (yes I said we) I can’t say that I like all this seriousness that is going on.
Can’t we go back to the fuzzy state of mind. When everything was fun and bright. I really think we were doing better back then. I don’t appreciate the way you have just decided to let the past go. I don’t like that it feels like we are always starting over. I can’t say that I like the way you just brush EVERYTHING off. I mean I know it started with a little brush off here and there but now…hell I don’t even know what to make of it. I REALLY don’t like the way you always want to be alone. I mean even I get tired of myself. There has to be more to your days than trying to figure out what to write on this page. I mean really it doesn’t matter that much who does and doesn’t read it. Shit there aren’t any phone calls what makes you think that writing on here is going to make them start calling. Cause even if they did you wouldn’t have anything new to say. So I really think you need to get a grip is what I’m trying to tell you.
There has to be an agreement I think. A contract so to speak. There has to be a medium somewhere. You and I should really sit and talk but don’t give me any of this monk shit. I don’t care to know myself better right now. There is no reason to be so extreme you know. Just take it easy. Lean back and enjoy the ride. I know it’s not a fun one but considering we both have a hand in it you can’t blame me for all of it. Don’t get me wrong there are a lot of good things going on. Responsibility, you getting more sleep, no hangovers, long baths, reading books, cleaning the house, not expecting anything from anyone. I am impressed but let the fun come out man. It doesn’t have to be that serious. You gotta let the sunshine in. I know it’s a bit of a pain to ride the bus. I know that sitting next to assholes is not the best thing right now. They come with the territory.
It’s a rough long road ahead. It would really suck to lose what you’ve become to some unknown force that is pulling you in EVERY direction. Don’t worry about explaining yourself to anyone….you don’t HAVE too. I know you are tired and alone but this is where we are right now. At least you can sleep in your bed and not crave anyone. At least you can be happy with the thought of existing. At least you can say that you’ve come a long way and you did most of it on your own. At least you’ve grown and there are new struggles instead of old ones. It’s not gonna get any easier.
“My eye, but I’ve been all over that ground—years and years ago. I’ve lived out my melancholy youth. I don’t give a fuck any more about what’s behind me or what’s ahead of me. I’m healthy. No sorrows, no regrets. No past, no future. The present is enough for me. Day by day.”
--Henry Miller
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| I'm a Homosexual |
| 07.06.04 (9:34 am) [edit] |
If beauty exists when the sun rises and the ugliness happens when it sets. What happens to all the stuff in between?
I was sitting at home alone again. I was sitting on the couch thinking of how I should get a pet but I’m allergic. I was thinking of how I wish I had a yard so I could go fix it. I think I understand why my dad spends so much time in our yard now. I think it’s to stop the stillness that can drown you sometimes.
I saw on old friend on Saturday. I hadn’t seen him in over six years. We chatted for a little while. He was around when I was in love. He asked me how things were. I told him there was nothing to talk about when it came down to that. So we changed the subject and talked about other things. He asked me about my short comings with the liquor. He felt sorry for me and my situation. I explained to him that there was no need for pity. We all make choices and every choice has a consequence. Even though I complain I wouldn’t take it back.
It was a long weekend. I missed community service yesterday due to sleeping right through the alarm. I was tired. I feel tired all the time. I should have stayed at the 4th of July party on Sunday. Instead I went home early (being the responsible adult that I am) and went to bed around 10pm. I should have gotten drunk and partied but I didn’t. I haven’t felt the need for it lately. It’s all boring to me now.
I need thrills and chills. I need to feel a little more social and less “annoyed” by things.
I can’t make up my mind about what I need vs. what I want and since I don’t know either I am stuck. In fact I don’t care. That’s always a good answer isn’t it?
Hmmm on the lighter side of things. My brother has been coming around lately. He called me last night to see if he could come hang out. We drank a 40 oz and ate some chips and salsa. Last night was the finale of For Love or Money and he chose love! Yeah for reality TV. Anyway he got caught up in it and hates me for it cause he never watches “shit like that”. So next week a new spin on the show starts and I told him if didn’t want anyone to know he watches it to come on over.
He got buzzed real fast and we started talking about real things and issues etc. I was watching him and he is really handsome. He’s a man’s man. He was telling me about how the freaks were out for Pride weekend. This is how it goes:
“You should have seen it”, he says laughing. “They were every where.”
“I can imagine. Were they messing with you?” I asked.
“No. I mean it’s not like I have a long ass conversation with them. As long as they don’t bother me I don’t care,” he says.
“I figured it would be a little nutty but I guess like you said as long as they don’t bother you,” I gazed at the TV.
“I don’t know why but I am really homosexual,” he says.
I look at him, “What??”
“No really I can honestly say that if freaks me out. I don’t like that I am homosexual,” he says seriously. “I want to be more open about it but they bother me.”
“Uhm do you mean homo-phobic?” I say giggling.
He stares at me blankly, “If you say anything about this I am going to kill you.”
I laughed for a good fifteen minutes. He finally tells me to shut-up and throws a magazine at me. My brother is a funny boy. He tells me he should have moved in with me instead. I am flattered of course.
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| My Stalker |
| 07.01.04 (10:43 am) [edit] |
I know some of you are dying to read this huh???
For the last two months I have been getting off on the stop right up the block from where I work. The first couple of times he tried to say hello he did the “pst pst” thing and I wanted to throw a can at his forehead. I hate the “pst pst” thing. Who invented that anyway??? But then I think he got the hint and he started saying good morning instead. I am not an asshole and will return anyone’s greeting. So now sure as shit every morning at 8:17am he is waiting outside his garage to say hello. He’s kind of cute in that rugged kinda of way. He’s Mexican (I can tell from the flags inside his garage). His smile is what gets me. I can’t help but return it and it makes me feel all girly inside. I can’t help it though. It’s not that I want his attention but when its there I think it’s the cutest thing. Anyway this morning he caught me off guard cause I got off the bus and he wasn’t there. I crossed the street and had my head buried in a book when someone rolls up next to me in a burgundy low-rider and says good morning. I look at sure enough there is that smile and I half laugh.
“Good morning” I say.
I thought he was going to drop off the car or he was leaving to go get breakfast but he speeds up instead and makes a U-turn at the stop sign. On the way back he waves again and there it is again that girly feeling that you get at the pit of your stomach. I am so confused. I’m sure eventually he’ll ask me for my name and I’m going to tell him it’s Gertrude cause anyone that is interested in me scares me. I haven’t gotten a good look at him yet. I don’t particularly want to stare cause it may encourage his little antics and since he ALWAYS wants to look me in the eyes I look away quickly. But I am curious to really see him. I wonder if my roommate has some binoculars I can borrow.
Was Anne Sexton on to something when she wrote “A woman who writes feels too much” or am I being romantic again? Someone called me that yesterday and then told me it was overrated but I’m not sure I believe that. There have to be other people that believe in the idea of romanticism or there wouldn’t be any good poets or writers or amazing love songs that rip your heart out. As bitter and jaded, as I know I have become, it’s still in there simmering. I like that it’s buried. I like that it comes out in pieces instead of all at once. Makes for better substance I think. It seems more solid that way. Its not forced or coerced. It surfaces and then disappears again like a lot things in my life.
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