December 2010
46 posts
dear universe, in case you hadn’t noticed, there’s a little less than 24 hours left until a brand spankin’ new year. and after all the recent turmoil you’ve thrown my way, I would love for this last day to be good. not fabulous, not unmatchably amazing, just good.
I hope putting myself first was what you wanted me to do, but I guess doing it for you would defeat the...
adult behavior.
I don’t know what’s left to be said. it shouldn’t be this way, it shouldn’t have come down to this. I can’t believe how quickly things went downhill. but here I am, sitting in among the aftermath, trying to figure out where I went wrong.
I should not feel guilty for wanting to be somewhere other than here. and my wanting to leave should not come as a surprise....
sweet dreams.
my half asleep mother: I love ya baby.
me: love you too mama.
mom: I just like saying 'I love ya baby.' I feel like I'm in a country western.
me: ...bahahaha. goodnight ma.
cranium.
tonight was as close to time traveling as I’ll ever get. a glimpse back to the summer that ultimately altered the course of my life. the original group. and while the actual location of our place has changed, the furnishings make it feel the same. board games, bowling, late nights, and us. between the eight of us there is so much. and so much time has passed that I don’t think anyone...
all I want for christmas is you tequila.
user friendly.
watch celebrity rehab. listen to stories of family trauma in group therapy. take two norcos to prepare for family trauma of your own.
irony is such a pain killer.
gifted.
someone either drugged my english teachers, beat them over the head with a bat, threatened their lives, or bribed them. but somehow, some way, I managed not to fail.
A. B. B. B.
W T F.
surprise me.
because I can’t seem to get it out of my head, I’m going to leave these thoughts here.
I don’t think I’ll hear from him again. in fact that’s probably the last time I’ll hear his voice. but that’s okay.
in the end, what we had, what we were, whatever that was, it was good.
it mattered enough for me to break all my rules and it was significant enough to...
brilliant deduction.
my brother is entirely underestimated. I am so fucking glad SFSU is giving him the chance to be great, because that kid’s brain simply cannot go to waste. after a late night slurpee run and some east side exploring, I am so impressed with him. despite his friends being “degenerates,” he still has his eye on the bigger picture, getting out of san jose and doing something with his...
8 x 10.
despite my distaste for the new decor of my old room, I am locking myself in it. I have had far too many familial interactions today so it’s time to channel my inner angsty teenager and isolate myself behind my bedroom door. with my old comforter on the bed, the return of a few pink pillow cases, and the contents of my suitcase spread out on the floor everything in here is looking a little...
the lime doesn't fall far from the shot glass.
me: the best margarita I ever had was at Javier's. when I'm 21 that's where I'm gonna go. no food necessary, they can just keep the margarita pitchers coming.
mom: oh I'll call ahead and give them my credit card number.
me: yeah! you'd be like a, what's that called? an anonymous-
mom: enabler?
everything is nothing is everything.
I wish I could flip some kind of “sort” switch in my brain to straighten things out in my head. neat piles of matching emotions, filed folders of feelings, alphabetized, color coordinated, all of the above. I can’t seem to find a starting place among the mess, the spot to begin untangling the knots that my heart and my head have so skillfully intertwined through my muscles and...
I can’t even get my brain together enough to finish a fucking blog. all of a sudden I have these works in progress saved in my drafts. and all I keep doing is word playing and metaphor making. linking certain circumstances with the state of my life. blah blah blah.
my continuous inability to function as a human being is infuriating.
I’m stuck in my head, feeling checked out. and I am...
perma-funk.
out of body state-of-mind.
scatter.
today’s google searches:
boots
area code 928
the history of women taking their married name
jetblue’s pet policy
black swan theory
I needed today, today was good.
“we’re pulling apart and coming together again and again
we’re...”
– the fray
scream.
maintenance required.
“are you okay?”
the state of my car = the state of my life. choose your adjectives accordingly.
“I’m an addict for dramatics, I confuse the two for love.”
– TBS
I can’t stop thinking about T.I....
“life’s too short babe, time is flying. I’m looking for baggage that...”
– RENT
revelation of the day: colby o’donis is entirely underrated.
cerebral symbols.
to dream of an earthquake suggests that you are experiencing a major “shake up” that is threatening your stability and foundation. the dream highlights your insecurity, fears, and sense of helplessness. is there something in your life that you feel at fault for?
to dream of a wreck symbolizes barriers and obstacles that stance between you and your goals. you may feel that you are not...
my stress is malignant. it has already spread to my glands & my bones.
book by its cover.
guy sitting at the table next to me: are you okay, you seem kind of stressed.
me: I'm kind of radiating that huh? sorry.
him: it's okay, I could just tell you weren't reading for fun.
me: yeah, no. I'm guessing that you are?
him: yeah.
me: I'm jealous, I can't wait to have time for that.
him: you'll get there. what are you reading?
me: some story for one of my english classes.
him: is that your major?
me: sure is.
him: what do you want to do with that?
me: well I want to write, buut I'll probably end up being a librarian.
him: aren't librarians supposed to be uptight & old? you don't look like you'd be a librarian.
me: I get that a lot.
“but I do not talk of the beginning or the end.
there was never any more...”
– walt whitman, song of myself
it's fine, it's only a half.
“the surprise guest was Bob Dylan, so everyone was screaming, ‘Yeah, Bob Dylan! Wooo!’ and I was in the back yelling in panic, ‘I don’t have any legs!’”
my 20th century english lit professor, current feminist and former recreational drug experimentalist, gives me hope that I do belong here.
also the number of viral youtube videos we apparently both...
territory marked.
spacious.
the distance from one end of the hallway to the other can only be measured in nostalgia. all of my possessions, in their new surroundings, are familiar for more reasons than one. everything holds the weight of a memory, an attachment to time that has passed. and while the only thing new is the space, I can’t help but notice the signifigance of this particular change of scenery.
from my...