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[16 Jul 2009|02:43am] |
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My life has no purpose, no direction, no aim, no meaning, and yet I am happy. I can't figure it out. What am I doing right?
Ever since I was a little girl I thought that happiness was something that was earned, a trophy, a testament of hard work and in return you received a content and peaceful state of mind. It hasn't taken me but two decades to realize that happiness is not a token that is spit out from the heavens in return for hard work, or commitment, or anything of the like. Happiness is nothing more than a state of mind.
Any single person is in control of their state of mind, any time, anywhere.
The realization that I could be in control of my own happiness did not come easy. For sometimes the simplest lessons can quite easily become the hardest to grasp. For a person to come to fruition that any complaint of suffering in their life is a direct result of one or more choices they consciously made, is not an easy pill to swallow. Excepting that you are the only person in control of your contentment, or lack thereof, is nearly inconceivable when you live in a world that is littered with outside forces that are constantly seeming to reign down upon you at the most inconvenient times.
Since the day I turned eighteen, I have been on a headstrong mission to find peace of mind. To wake up in the morning with little to no complaint. I was relieved when I realized my happiness would not rely on things such as money, or social status. But quite devastated when I assumed that romance would be the sole provider in my vocation. To rely on the opposite sex for anything seems daft, let alone the conquest of inner peace.
I felt this sense of desperation before, in constant need of the warm body beside me. Relentless my brain was, spinning it over and over..attempting to compute how this sack of skin beside me could have any part in affecting my mood.
Somewhere along the line, between absolute insanity and total reform, it came to me...I remembered a lesson learned that was exponential.
"The pursuit of peace and progress cannot end in a few years in either victory or defeat. The pursuit of peace and progress, with its trials and its errors, its successes and its setbacks, can never be relaxed and never abandoned. "
And so my search continues.
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[03 Mar 2009|04:46pm] |
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and while the shooting stars sleep in the corner of my eye i think about what my world would be like without light. probably not much different than it is now i suppose?
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| happiness and suffering are merely states of mind. |
[08 Dec 2008|12:06am] |
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There was an eery feeling as we slipped through the back streets on the way home last night. We were all quiet..I didn't mind though because I didn't feel like talking. I was tired and stoned. The park was wet with fog just lingering like an uninvited guest. The park looked as hazed as the car after we ripped through the blunt. Mother nature in tune with my state of mind. When I want to sleep in and ignore the day, she rains everything out. When I'm high, she keeps the roads smothered with fog like syrup on pancakes. I toss escape routes around in my head. As soon as I stepped off the plane I felt like my feet just sank into cement blocks. Stuck. So I squirm. I try to yell out, but my tongue cannot manipulate the thought into the word that rolls out of my mouth. I'm remembering my single paned windows in Portland. How they used to cry all day. Just drip. drip. drip. The clouds just hibernate over that city, I swear they do.
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| Chapter 1 |
[18 Jul 2008|08:42pm] |
What Men Call Breathing Is Suffocating Me
Today I reinvented myself. I know I've said that before, but this time I really did it! I have sworn off having a central nervous system. I will from this point forward be a human cockroach. After yesterday, I will no longer be using my central nervous system. I'm going to dedicate my attention span to forbidding myself to being susceptible to harm- physical or mental. Now, I'm not quite sure exactly how I am going to execute this genius plan- but I assure you I will get around to all the "fine tuning" when my schedule is more forgiving. Since my first, and last, encounter with Lucifer something has gone terribly wrong with my brain! I have this overwhelming feeling of inadequacy. Even though the demise of our further possible encounters was my doing- I keep thinking that the only reason I forced myself to cut him off was for fear that he would cut me off and in turn I would then feel like the fool. There seems to be something so absurd about that to whatever processes logic inside of my head. I mean, that's not normal, right? Just going around dumping people off just because you fear they might burn you? Or maybe that's just the smartest thing you could do. Avoid pain by pushing torment onto others! I just can't tell if it's the most genius survival plan my subconscious has ever executed, or if it just plain sad? Either way I guess it doesn't really matter because by now- what's done is done. You, and our late night encounters are long gone and I have since then put so many notches in my bed post that it is damn near ready to fall apart and crumble to the floor. I don't know exactly what it is about you that has had me so captivated over our encounter these past few months- but I cannot stop turning the situation over in my head. It changed me. You changed me. I keep thinking how fucked up I have been ever since that night we talked on the phone. When you said "I think there's something you should know..." and you went on to explain why you had failed to return my calls. "I think you should know, for me this is purely sexual." That's what you said to me, in case you were too drunk to remember saying it. But I promise, word for word, that came out of your mouth. I keep wondering, why did you feel the need to say that aloud? Please, tell me, what indication did I ever give you to insinuate that I wanted anything serious? If anything I should have been the one to tell YOU that I was not seeking anything serious. If I recall correctly I refused to spend the night in your bed and cuddle you like you were some puppy dog- and you about peed your pants crying like a fucking baby over it. "Oh, don't go! Stay! Please!" Or did that conveniently slip your mind? Well fuck you. And fuck everything you did, and didn't do, and said, and didn’t say! I'm fucked now! I have some sick complex where now I feel compelled to seek out men, become irresistibly alluring, bring them into my bed, satisfy them to the point where they are left with a sickening desire to be had over and over again, and then the next thing they know they are on their way out the door sooner than they wanted to even think about anticipating. I know that after I get done explaining to them why I would prefer they NOT stay the night, and escort them down the stairs and out on to my porch, they are left with the same inadequacy I have been suffering from since you walced in & out of my life. And all at once I feel better. But it's kind of like when you're doing blow...and you get so high and then suddenly- all you can think about is how even though you're still high you know that if you don't do more- you're going to come down and when you do- you will ultimately feel like SHIT. I know that even though I feel empowered kicking you out when you think you're going to get to sleep under my awesome down comforter and hug my naked body all night- in the morning I'm going to wake up and sort of feel like shit all over again. So then the vicious cycle starts all over again with nauseating repetition because I wake up feeling like shit and spend the whole day trapped inside my head analyzing exactly what the fuck is repeatedly driving me to land a different man in my bed every night of the week, and then I get so down and out that the only reasonable solution is to go to the bar and be dedicated to not interrupted the cycle. Rinse, repeat, hang them up to dry.
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| you got me so wet, then you left me swimming |
[15 Jul 2008|04:11pm] |
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So here is my newest piece. I have been working on the concept for quite some time- just couldn't find the right inspiration to execute it. It is fiction, I think!
Feel free to write back with commentary, it is still a work in progress.
DAY1
as soon as your hands reach my skin I feel raw all over again.
breathe.
I inhale your skin and it all starts coming back to me.
You touch every inch of me to make it worth your while.
I'm not even there. I'm so wrapped up in my head I'm somewhere else, but my body is laying there- next to you.
I'm so full of Jameson that it's seeping out of my pores and your practically taking body shots off me.
I ruined the best thing that ever happened to me, to be lying here next to you, stranger.
I feel like the appropriate reaction after realizing this would be to cry, but I'm too empty.
I'm waving my arms while I'm drowning in your ocean.
I'm screaming inside of myself because I can't find the words to do it out loud yet.
I'm so full of you at this point I feel like I could puke.
I start to wonder what is going in the city as I lay in this strangers bed, would I have been better off staying at the bar?
I just want to forget everything about today, and luckily enough the equation of heavy pouring and steady drinking should provide a decent outcome of such.
DAY2
You called. Maybe because you felt obligated, or maybe you haven't had your fill of me yet.
I want to stop the conversation and just tell you- I am a mess, you don't want to clean up.
But I don't. I feel surprised to hear from you- even though I'm pretty sure that my goal for today was to try to forget you.
I indulge in this useless conversation- What's one more night when you've already thrown away everything sacred?
We meet in a pretentious dark bar, our waitress was a bitch. I'm sick of this place.
Walking through your neighborhood while my inhibitions slowly start to get the best of me and I know what's coming next.
More wine. More useless conversation.
We're sitting on your bed now. You're trying to impress me with your knowledge of early 90s grunge rock.
I'm trying to pretend like I am not impressed, and that this is so sophomore year of you.
But I let myself indulge in the fact that maybe you're not so bad after all?
You lean over and start to kiss me.
I can't tell if you mean it, or if the wine has gotten the best of us- yet again.
Next thing I know I'm laying there staring at the ceiling again as you do your best to pull any ounce of emotion from my mouth.
It's not going to happen, as far as I'm concerned I feel half dead.
DAY3
Today all I am concentrating on is "DONT THINK."
Do not scramble this, do not analyze. Do not question. Do not wonder. Do not do anything at all.
I grab some hash and roll a joint. Better to start the recovery process before it's even necessary.
I'm sprawled out on my couch watching satire comedy when you call.
I stare at the phone and let it ring. I try to think of why you're calling me.
It didn't mean anything. It's okay- you don't have to call me.
My phone starts barking. The message reads "Why did you leave last night?"
I think- "Why would I have stayed?"
I left the first night, why would night2 be any different? Did you want me to stay? Why?
Are you like me? Hate the empty space in your bed? Willing to fill the void with any person whose willing to do the walk of shame in the morning?
Ugh.
The whole purpose of today is to shut my brain off and you are really fucking that up for me right now.
Why couldn't you be normal and wake up, and not wonder why the fuck I am not in your bed.
WHO CARES?!
Hours roll by and I'm sure that if you're as predictable as I think you're starting to be- you're going to call again. And you do.
More alcohol? Sure- why not?
I make sure that this time I do not end up in your bed as to avoid the awkward texts messages in the morning.
You seem upset, but that's okay with me.
The conversation takes an awkward turn. But I'm not surprised- because you drank whiskey.
Unfortunately I only drink Irish whiskey, and you thought I might be impressed by Makers Mark- But I'm not.
So I leave you- with your empty bed, your unfilled void, and hopefully a little bit of intriguing confusion.
I get lost on my way home from your house- at night everything looks the same in southwest.
The fucking woods.
The road seems to go over about six mountains, the continuation of hills is making my ears pop.
I'm smoking a cigarette trying to wrap my head around you.
Then I stop- because I think maybe it's better to try and not figure you out.
I start thinking back to our meeting in the coffee shop. What book were you reading? All I can remember is that we were both drinking espresso on the rocks- and I remember thinking anybody who takes their coffee the same way as I do has to be worth having a drink with.
When I was younger- I would have thought this fate.
Now- We're just two strangers that take their coffee the same way.
I really want to try hard to remember what the name of that book was, but I can't.
If you call tomorrow, I'll ask you.
DAY4
I'm driving home from work and there are no missed calls. I wonder to myself if our charade is over because I didn't give into you last night.
I'm staring at the mountains, I turn my music up as loud as I can- trying to drown out my brain.
I don't want to start feeling like I'm wanting you to call.
By the time I reach my exit I decide that maybe I will call you for a change.
You don't answer, I do my best to leave as casual and uncaring message as I can muster.
In the next hour this is what runs through my head.
"Maybe he's at work. Or maybe he just got home from work and is in the shower. Maybe he has a girlfriend that he is hanging out with right now that has been out of town for the past three nights and now our time of dark smoky bars and sex with punk rock music in the background has come to a screeching halt. Ugh,
Why are you doing this to yourself? You cringe when you see his name creep across phone, you reluctantly answer his calls each time. Are you really trying to decipher what he could possibly be doing right now that would prevent him from answering your phone call? No, I got it! Maybe he thinks that I am trying to
be mysterious by being distant and not sleeping over like a normal girl and he thinks that the only way to win me over is to come right back at me with these trivial mind games." And so on...
Until- you call. And all at once I feel satisfied that I haven't run you off yet.
You sound pleased that I called, and I ask if you would like to go have a drink.
By now I think anyone would be wondering at what point does this situation unravel from a one night mistake?
DAY5
I wake up, in my own bed.
I managed to elude him the night before, yet again, and escape to the comfort and spaciousness of my apartment before the sun came creeping in.
Last night I had what some might call....a breaking point?
Right after we finished letting our inhibitions, or hormones, get the best of us- I abruptly sprang from your bed in search of my clothes.
I grabbed my keys and was JUST about to be out of sight when you rose and inquired as to why I was leaving.
I tried to be effortless and tell you some lie about how I am a hopeless insomniac.
I have night terrors. A phobia of sleeping in unfamiliar places. And so on.
He pleaded for me to stay, just for tonight. I refused.
"I reeally can't. It's not you, it's me. Really! I won't sleep. I have work in the morning. I HAVE TO GO."
He really started to piss me off when he said something along the lines of "If you don't stay I will never forgive you."
Oh, please. Is that a promise or a threat?
A threat. Okay, well let it be an empty one. Because let me tell you I have no problem letting this go.
If I never saw you again, it would not break me. I would NOT be upset.
So I'm leaving now, and if you call...you call..if you don't. FINE.
Today I do not question whether I should have stayed, or what he thinks of me for leaving.
DAY6
"Bottom Feeders".
That was the name of the book you were reading in the coffee shop the day we first met.
I remembered finally, no thanks to my supposed photographic memory.
I haven't heard from you in close to three days. So technically I believe we are on DAY9.
I've run it over through my head a million times- trying to think of all the possibilities of what is driving you to not call.
The most logical reason I have come up with is that all my running from you- has run you off.
I thought to myself "I should have just sucked it up and spent the night."
But then you would think I was a co-dependent clingy girl who wants to change you and run you off the players field and push you behind a white picket fence and slap rings on our fingers.
And I mean, lets face it, what girl ISNT trying to do that?
However, I am trying to be a girl from a different breed these days.
I just want to meet someone who accepts that I am on the verge of being an alien to the female species.
I am self proclaimed, but only in the privacy of my own head, to be insane.
Not insane in the way that I am capable of murder, or monumental deceit...more like the insanity that I believe Dali dealt with.
The insanity that captures you because you are just too strung out on thinking, analyzing, and second guessing.
The kind of insanity that one of the best artists in the world faced when looking at a masterpiece and thinking to themselves "I suck."
In any case- I would really appreciate a phone call.
Just a little heads up as to what is going on in that ball sack of a brain you men tend to have.
Am I annoying? A bad drunk? The sex not satisfying enough? You're freaked out that things are progressing too quickly?
I mean really, WHAT IS IT ABOUT ME THAT IS MAKING YOU NOT PICK UP THE PHONE AND DIAL MY PHONE NUMBER AND ASK ME OUT ON ANOTHER DATE.
I'm normally not this obsessive, I swear! You are making me this way with your stupid games.
Can't we just be adults about this?
Clearly the name of your current read is not some entertaining novel or political esquire...but a How-to-Manual on how to be just like every other stereotypical asshole male, and lead a girl to believing you are worth her time, and getting her in the sack- only to cease and desist contact five days after the fact.
I guess this is where the expression "flavor of the week" came from.
DAY6
Today I had an epiphany.
Men only don't call you for two reasons...
One- You were a mistake, one to be learned from.
Two- You want to be his girlfriend.
Surely, I am neither of the two.
So here I sit, perplexed...when all at once- it came to me!
No man, and I mean NO man, can ignore you when they look down at thier phone and see these precious five words.
The reason a man cannot resist these simple, yet extremely empowering, five words is because they were born as nature intended them.
You know, that little tail they tuck between their legs whenever they can tame it enough to keep it from wandering outside their pants.
"I want to fuck you."
Sometimes I like to embellish the phrase with a "so bad"
"I want to fuck you so bad right now."
If I had to place a bet, I say he calls within the hour, if not within the minute.
And you do.
Not even sixty seconds after I send you that message my phone starts doing a fucking mexican hat dance in my pocket.
Oh, how convienent that you should call me now after my three or four day affair with your answering machine.
I was hoping I would not have to resort to that this early on, but whatever.
Your voice is surprised, nervous, and you have been drinking- I hope.
"Um, so...I got your text message, and I think there is something you should know..."
You're still talking, explaining what you're about to say, even though you haven't actually said it yet.
I'm not listening anymore because I'm trying to think of what it is that you "think I should know."
You have a girlfriend?
You have herpes?
You have....something, that I don't want you to have?
Okay, I give up, what is it that you think I should know...before I come over to have sex.
And then you said it.
I'm not sure how I feel about that. Or rather- I'm not sure how you thought it was completely imperitive that you make me aware of the obvious before I come over...but in anycase I decide to come over anyways, because I wasn't kidding when I said I wanted to fuck you so bad.
DAY7
It's not really DAY7 I think it's actually been almost a week and a half since our first meeting.
And, actually, I am on my way home from your house right now.
No thanks to my insomnia, I accidently fell asleep with your arm slung over me all sloppy and drunk like.
My clothes are scattered about your bedroom floor, waiting for me to slip into them and sneak out like some rebellious teenager.
I think to myself, maybe we should just keep your bedroom window open.
On my way home I let myself realize something that had kept slipping from my brain after all these nights.
You are the devil incarnate. For whatever reason your tramp stamp had illuded me our previous encounters.
Among his other slew of bad adolecent body art of beer logos and cartoon faces- He has 666 tatooed on the small of his back.
I am not joking.
DAY8
I keep thinking I'm not going to call you anymore.
I don't know why really...you're just kind of fading out for me lately.
Actually, that's a lie.
I have decided I am going to make a point to force myself to not call you because you are a pig.
Not that being a pig makes you unlike the rest of the male species.
But you, in particular, leave a sour taste in my mouth.
That could be for several different reasons, but I'm more refering to the figure of speech.
I decided that from now on, for the sake of my documentation of you- I'm going to call you Lucifer.
Partly because of your tramp stamp, but mostly because it's really funny.
I keep thinking about what you said to me the other night on the phone.
You know me, running things through and through over and over.
At first, I was insulted. I mean truly offended by that.
And now, I'm thinking...well maybe that's not so bad.
I mean that's pretty much the way things were headed anyways, right?
I don't know if it was completely necessary for us to have a sit down talk about what we're doing.
But today I am okay. I'm ok with you, with our situation, and with whether or not you decide to return my calls or what have you.
DAY9
I went to Stumptown today with some guy I met in the bar when you weren't answering my calls.
I sat at the table catty corner to where we sat that one day.
If this guy shows up, and is a total bomb, I don't want to be sitting in our spot.
I sip my chai tea and stare at the chair I was sitting in when we had our only enlightening conversation.
You know- the one that made me go have that one drink with you.
The one drink that led to two bottles of wine, and us having sex.
The leather seat is torn and masked with silver tape and is ratty, but somehow I don't remember it looking so uncomfortable before I sat down there.
I stare off into that corner for so long that two shadows of us are sitting there talking
And I'm kind of starting to have some kind of wierd out of body experience flashback type shit
I have quite obviously not had enough sleep, and seriously need to stop relying on espresso as my soul energy source and calorie intake.
I'm starting to feel grossly nostalgic, and want time to stop right now so I can spit on it and tell it to fuck off.
If I could, I would go back, be sitting right there across from that tiny intimate table (knowing what I know now) and slap you.
I would slap you and get up, turn on my heels and casually walk to my car.
I wouldn't look back because there would be no reason to.
I am abruptly broken from my day dream because the guy from the bar is now sitting across from me and I have to start having conversation with someone other than myself.
He is not as cute as I remember, naturally.
He is also a lot bigger than I remember.
More shy, and less entertaining.
He's actually not like anything I remember.
That might have something to do with the fact that you're not the guy I met at the bar.
You are a stranger, that took it upon yourself to sit down across from me and start talking.
If I wasn't so hung over I might have noticed earlier, but I'm fucked now.
You think I'm interested because I entertained your pick up line, and now I'm fucked.
You're not going to go away, are you?
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[25 Jun 2008|02:14am] |
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I was laying there in that cold white room...and I thought to myself..someone died here right where I'm laying and it was so bizarre because I felt so comfortable laying there..thinking, hoping it was my time to go. I've just been so sad lately feeling that I am somehow missing. Lately I've been feeling so empty, surrounded by all this humanity. I just know that for whatever reason I am one of those tortured souls...and it really sucks you know because I've been searching so hard for myself..thinking that letting yourself go beyond the deep realms of hopelessness is where you really figure yourself out...like maybe rock bottom is where you really start to get underneath your own skin and see the real dynamics of your spirit. I...I just don't know anything anymore.
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[21 Jun 2008|03:27am] |
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I just kept thinking to myself "I just want to be with him so bad"
And then I starting digging into that so much deeper...you know..picking at it.
I just wanted to be with him.
And that's what it's about right?
Finding that one person in life where you can just be.
Be yourselves around one another and just be yourself.
And not having any notion that the thing that was running through your head was not worth talking about.
Because someone who really loves you doesn't mind picking at your brain, or being picked on.
And the next thing I know I had just realized that we probably weren't mean to be.
I got so sad I wanted to just lean over to him and kiss him..because..I was so sorry for letting us fall so hard for eachother, when I knew..I just knew it would never work.
That's kind of always be a problem for me...seeing those fatal opportunities and pursuing them against my better judgment (only in matters of the heart that is)
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| don't talk, just listen. |
[27 Jan 2008|09:53pm] |
Dear you,
It's been so long since we touched that I almost don't even feel human anymore. I put the pillows beside me at night to keep me dreaming about you, to fool myself in the morning- so I don't immediately realize that your not next to me like always. I suppose it's silly to think a sack of cotton could even begin to replicate the warmth of your insatiable body. A futile effort at best, I know...yet still, before I go to bed at night I stare at the empty space that your shape used to fill and begin to miss you something fierce. I bring my knees up to my chest, pull the sheets up to my chin, cram my eyes shut, and pretend that your arm is slung over me and your hand resting on "that one spot". This seems to be the only way I find myself able to cope in your absence. I hope you know what a remarkable lover you are that you could have me craving so badly that without any second guessing or consideration for repercussions I am willing to grab my keys on Thursday morning and drive 3,112 miles by myself to be next to you, to have you, and more importantly-to be had. Remember this summer when we went to the river and we floated on our backs, holding hands intently, all the way to where it bends? And then...well...you remember what happened after that.. I won't kiss and tell. I'm sure there will be better stories than that one, if we can just make it through this stark cold winter. If you thought last year was good summer lovin', you have nooo idea!
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[27 Jan 2008|05:35pm] |
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I woke up this morning and tasted the pillow with a grin. I know you weren't next to me, but the sunshine was consolation for me missing your fingertips. I had a dream that I hitched a ride with a really enormous bird and flew all the way to Portland, and when I woke up I felt a little disappointed that I wasn't there yet...but I know 101 will be good and kind to me on my drive. I'm throwing away anything I have that will ever remind me that there was life before you, because for now- your all I want to know. Every time I skip town I always say that my new start will be fresh, but I let old memories linger to get me through the day. No more.
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[28 Dec 2005|01:34pm] |
Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world,
which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime,
and falling in at night.
I miss you like hell.
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[25 Dec 2005|12:24am] |
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In violent repitition it plays in my head. The way you crept to lay by my side, the shadows on your face as you lean into me. I always stay still because you look at me like if anything was any different in that moment- I might not be enough. And I have to be enough to make you stay. I try and trick myself into thinking you're not that special...but oh, you are.
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[21 Dec 2005|02:59pm] |
So you're in college now, and we probably can't bother exchanging christmas cards.
We used to play in abandoned baseball fields,
but now you find warm bodies in dirty dorm rooms.
You still call, but you only say 'I love you' on some special occasions.
We used to share inspirations and aspirations for a future together,
now we just mourn about how much we've grow apart.
A kiss ran from head to toe two years ago, I guess we ran them dry.
Sweet somethings die to sweet nothings.
I can't believe they call this growing up.
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[21 Dec 2005|02:52pm] |
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There are angels among us that work in practical small gardens that grow orchids for the good people, and work teediously weeding out all the other bad hearts.
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[21 Oct 2005|03:30pm] |
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Inside myself is a place where I live all alone and that's where you renew your springs that never dry up.
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