Further on the road to destruction.

Counting down the days
Without an end.
Needing a dramatic good instead of bad

What the fuck.
What's the use of expectations
When We can't have them?

Really?
Expectations should be illegal
Then maybe I'd adhere

Ultimatatums

I am not grateful. It's not that I don't want to be, and believe me, I'm sorry that I'm not...But I'm not grateful, at least in the ways that will help me survive life apparently. So that being said, Thanksgiving was a failure I guess. I need someone to get me out of this and I don't mean God. If God sends someone ok, but I need a flesh and blood person to fix something for me since a flesh and blood person wrecked it in the first place. God put people here for a reason, not just so that we could "lean on Him" or this grand imaginary image of who we think he is.

Last Sunday, Monday and tonight I cried, literally weeping wailing and practically rending my clothes (my pjs are pretty much toast anyway so its unfortunately not as dramatic as it seems) for about 2-3 hours at a time. If you consider that my little bouts of mourning are usually 20-30 minutes long and just that puts me through the ringer, the nights this past week has left me physically exhausted. Mourning my mom, mourning Nelson, mourning loss chivalry, mourning the lack of adherence to my religion, mourning my allergies to cats, mourning every weakness I ever ever had, mourning the half of the freshman 15 I've so timely gained nearing the end of my first semester...And when someone asks you what's wrong instead of a torrent of things I just mentioned that are making my heart heavy I just burst into another round of broken crying and deep heart-rending sobs because, of course, I'm in such a state I can't even prioritize which one is pulling its barbed hook out of my heart at that time. When one big thing hurts most other things they may have just stung a little hurt a lot lot more.

I think a baby step to gaining back my gratitude would be to use the phrase "at least". "At least" I have cool nail polish on. At least I can sleep in until 8 am some days. At least my room is Pooh Bear yellow and that I can even see colors. At least I can cry...That's the cynic's grateful scale. But Zion was right, I lost grateful, but along with a lot of things I've lost lately in the light of self discovery I think I'm going to have to leave that one behind for a little bit too.

I find this waiting period of seeing what I develop into isn't so uncomfortable as I thought it was going to be if I ever thought about it at all. I knew in coming here to Memphis I would be free from a lot of restrictions that my otherwise curious and rebellious nature (the worst combo in the world lest I be underdramatic) would not have allowed me to break. In that freedom comes a series of trial and errors. If you want to get an idea of how many failures vs successes there've been I'd suggest coming to watch the predictable Sunday night wail. Days before weeks begin are the worst, just ask the Bangles.

I'm not going to pretend things are ok because really they're not. I'm not going to kick against the pricks, I am going to cry every damn time I'm truly sad that I can't have something I want. I'm going to take that sedative if I get anxious because I can't stand being around Daniel when I know we could have been good together were it not for him. I will say everyday that I miss my mom and scoff from a mixture of bitterness and self-pity at the thought that her spirit's really by my side. I will send dramatic texts to each past potential boyfriend telling them I hate them and love them and want them to grow up because they're stupid and I wish i could punch them in the heart...

Well, I won't do that last one because wisdom has finally taught me this lesson: certain people are walls and instead of hitting my head against them trying to break through, I'm going to pretend those walls don't exist and just walk on by.

Matrix style.

Somebody else must have had a pity party in order to write these songs, so I don't even feel bad.

Two songs that I'm feeling. Don't worry, no towers in Missoula :)

Alone Again, Naturally

In a little while from now

If I'm not feeling any less sour

I promise myself to treat myself

And visit a nearby tower

And climbing to the top will throw myself off

In an effort to make it clear to whoever

What it's like when you're shattered

Left standing in the lurch at a church

Where people saying: "My God, that's tough"

"She stood him up"

"No point in us remaining"

"We may as well go home"

As I did on my own

Alone again, naturally

To think that only yesterday

I was cheerful, bright and gay

Looking forward to who wouldn't do

The role I was about to play?

But as if to knock me down

Reality came around

And without so much as a mere touch

Cut me into little piecesLeaving me to doubt

Talk about God in His mercy

Who if He really does exist

Why did He desert me?

In my hour of need

I truly am indeed

Alone again, naturally

It seems to me that there are more hearts

Broken in the world that can't be mended

Left unattended

What do we do?

What do we do?

Alone again, naturally

Looking back over the years

And whatever else that appears

I remember I cried when my father died

Never wishing to hide the tears

And at sixty-five years old

My mother, God rest her soul

Couldn't understand why the only man

She had ever loved had been taken

Leaving her to start with a heart so badly broken

Despite encouragement from me

No words were ever spoken

And when she passed away

I cried and cried all day

Alone again, naturally

Alone again, naturally

Paper Dream

I take some paper on my hand,

And with a pencil draw a man

The dream of what I'd really, really like to be.

A man with courage in his brow,

Who's licked his doubts and fears somehow,

A warrior of great nobility.

But who am I?

Just a wandering kid.

A cipher on the wall, not even brave at all!

And where's my dream like his that I would fight for?

And where's my cause like his that I would die for?

And in his eyes he's not a afraid

Because you see he's got it made

The dream of what I'd really, really like to be.

A brave and noble, fiery youth.

Who's not afraid to die for truth.

Who's tall and straight, but best of all he's free!

But who am I?

Such a fool as I am.

A cipher on the wall, not even brave at all!

And where's my dream like his that I would fight for?

And where's my cause like his that I would die for?

But still the paper's in my hand

And every day I sketch that man

Who knows the truth and what life's all about!

My conscience says I should be him

I guess I could at least begin

But chances are I'd probably strike out...

I am not the only person in the Universe...

But dammit, I should be. I have to laugh to keep from crying. Why do people even blog? It's like, people want to know about your life, and I suppose every once in awhile a humorous event does happen, but why blog if you can't share the details of your life? Its probably because I don't have kids to brag or talk about, or even a husband to poke fun at. When you're a single blogger its rough, you're vulnerable (like an artist). You have to change names to protect the innocent, gloss over shocking personal thoughts, and hope your crush hasn't found how to access your website/shrine to him...Yeah, its rough.

Sure we could all write in our journals, but what I think is that we crave the attention from the universe. Writing a semi-personal blog is a way to say, "hello world, I have something interesting to say and (even if it isn't) you're going to ponder on it, laugh about it and comment on my blog so that I can feel I've made something of myself, cause hey, everyone can see I have friends who want to comment on my life."

Oh, I want to say so much more in a blog! I want to tell most people about some things, but I know that it might hurt other important people in my life. I want to divulge deep secrets so that I can be comforted and assured that I'm not a bad person and that many people actually think the same things, so you're not alone! I want a indelible witness to my life so that it actually might matter! In short, I would like to make a husband out of my blog. Of course there are obvious limitations to this idea which prompts me to return to the pursuit of a living, breathing spouse, but hey, a temporary companion ain't so bad...makes the title of my blog even more fitting :)

And pictures. I am surprisingly not a picture-taker by nature. Knowing that the next awkwardly-angled, double-chin revealing pic is on its way to any film processing center is not my cup of tea, so I naturally steer clear of the sport. But I think that I would like to try something new. This idea of adding visual interest to a blog with a stock photo is quite pleasing unto me. Who likes to read words? I mean, come on guys, if the Berenstain Bears had been a brief, illustrationless novel, would we have even picked it up? Would our creative minds have even evolved without those stimulating, brightly-colored pictures of unrealistically-clothed forest bears?? This is no wonder my blog hasn't taken off. Blogs are not appropriate without pictures, so here, i stop this madness and surrender to the sweet, sweet artistic stylings of stock photos....

Next time, stories of my endearing blog trying to teach our feisty 5-year-old how to play teeball...there will be crotch hits!!

Happy Birthday dear Blooooog....that sounds like "bloog"...Blaaaahg....

So, once upon a time I heard that it was beneficial to have puppies and kitties around, that owners were more calm, less prone to depression and anxiety. I believe it. Right now I'm sitting on my Aunt's couch, watching Marie Osmond say, "this isn't your mother's Nutrisystem..." next to a sleeping miniature fluffy wiener dog (I don't know breeds or pedigrees, the only categories I understand are cute, smelly or slobbery...I'm with cute) after having a good night's sleep next to my little flame point Siamese, Scarlet who has been in my family for about 10 years now. Maybe its the vibrations of the purring that calms the soul...

It's been over a year now since I first started this blog and I only really wrote in it for the first 3 months I had it...then I met Nelson. Nine months later after a new job and moving half a dozen times I am haggard, thin (this isn't necessarily a bad thing...), and depressed as hell. I would have DIED if I had lived much longer in that lifestyle. It wasn't even rocker-chick-I-do-coke lifestyle, I was a retail manager! I'm finally taking a 2 week break (turning into a 4 week cool down thanks to leaving work 2 weeks earlier than expected) and its the first time I haven't felt major pressure to produce in about 6 years. I just get to decompress. Honestly I wish I had like Yoga or meditation to help me in this journey, but I think reruns of What Not to Wear, pesto, new school wardrobe and small animals (sorry Dover) may actually yield similar results.

I've decided to document the next two weeks, which would be totally boring except that I'll be filling in the last 9 months of my hiatus by documenting processed feelings and thoughts of my year of hell. BTW, it'd better be over, if I continue any of this in Memphis...

I started this morning with Tin Roof Sunday. I only missed the ice cream's saint day by one so I hope the gods will forgive me. Last night after I finally rolled up to my Aunt Sneebie's and had tried to fall asleep for an hour, I snuck down to the fridge (cupboard was too risky having to turn on the light and all) proceeded to raid, only finding some tortillas that would quell my hunger, took them out and despite all my stealthy efforts, knocked the jar of hot fudge on the wood floor with a SMACK! There was no mention of it this morning so I'm hoping everyone's being polite as to my midnight bingey.

Ha! Stacey London and Clinton Kelley are transforming a theatre person and she just complained about feeling tired and vulnerable. I think that word, vulnerable, is the quintessential words for theatre people. I use it at least once a day, like a multivitamin. I'm sure other people feel vulnerable from time to time, but they rarely describe themselves as such. Have you ever heard an accountant say, "yeah, I was feeling a bit vulnerable today at work"?...I like being a theatre person with the rights to that state of being. So anyway, I'm feeling a bit vulnerable today...

But I had some tasty Chef Boyardee ravioli!!!!! I probably should have gone with the wild rice and chicken soup selection, but I was craving pasta...if you can really call Chef Boyardee pasta. Sailor (mini wiener dog) enjoys the refined taste of paper towel that I blew my nose on and left where he could snatch it. Its my fault, I wouldn't give him a ravioli which he begged for before moving on to the paper-made snack. Wow, nobody cares about what I'm saying right now. Well, I suppose I should bring on the drama...

Eh, next blog. Enjoy the tranquility now folks, cause from here on out there's going to be drama vomit!

Winona Ryder ruins everything...including my life.

Star Trek, so great, the biggest mistake ever made was Winona. I was going to make up some witty repartee on the matter, but I guess she doesn't matter enough to me. These last few weeks and days have been absolutely hellish. Sometimes when I throw myself into the day it isn't too bad, but when its night or the weekend I seem to retreat into the deepest darkest parts of myself. Every part of my little soul hurts right now and I am having the hardest time coming out of it. I wanted to write this awesome entry about Star Trek and some of my other semi-bitter musings about silly customers or my most recent movie purchase a WONDERWORKS classic Jacob Have I Loved...but I just don't have much of a heart left. It's really little little...

I can do this...

Riiiiiight. Um, how do you get over someone that you've really cared about? It's been coming for a long time, the end that is. Now I'm desperately clinging on for some reason and its like hitching myself to the back of a pickup and being dragged over a dirt road....at least its not concrete, right?

Maybe I should make up a poem about it....ahem:

When I was at the play, Mary said, "Hey,
Can I set you up with this guy?"
I said, "Um, I don't know, blind dates usually blow..."
But I told her maybe i'd try.

My opening night, Mary said, "He could be Mister Right!"
And I thought, omg, he is here!
But I didn't worry too much, nervous instead for the play and such
So I met him post-show without fear.

I was caught unaware, he was tall with blond hair,
and was broad and very smartly dressed.
He acted pretty nice, and seemed without vice,
'twas the green eyes that ensnared I confess.

I'd never felt prettier that day when we walked
at the park in the canyon at dusk.
But over the months, there's been nothing but lumps
as that moment has now turned to rust.

You see its important when dating a guy
to feel wanted and pretty and loved.
But when he starts to revert back to being a jerk
the "honesty" only adds to the crud.

So here I will tell all young ladies that dwell
In this hole where the zoobies all roam.
If things start to go bad, you can't fix them, sad.
So just leave him there and go home.

That was all I got. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated and I'm not bitter anymore so...try to keep that in mind ;)