Birth Of Wrath

i just recalled what broke the final straw, and started the free fall. it was you talking nonsense to the sky, about how better things were gonna come your way. ramblings that got me thinking now might be the time so i abruptly interrupted and told you that was me. but you weren't convinced so i was unsuccessful. and deep down i knew you'd deny it, and deeper down i knew i wasn't prepared to hear it.

i left that conversation with the weight of the world lifted off my shoulders. but it was replaced with the weight of a heavy heart. one that recovered surface but not internal. one that threw the towel in, and tried to walk away without any hurt feelings left, or swept under the rug. one that told itself everything would be okay on an hourly basis, one that retired to the bathroom to weep and bellow. and it worked overtime to mask the plague it caught from you.

couple of days later i read the heart it's last rights.
things were touch and go, but it made it through.
and the religious people close to me considered it a miracle.
and to their faces i laughed and told them they had to be kidding me, but behind their backs i agreed and cried from relief.

Fleeting Justice

hot damn it was cold outside this morning. and by the time i got to school i couldn't feel my feet, but things weren't so horrible. i wore six layers, none of which seemed to do the trick. and that's fine.

anyway, i was walking eastbound when a slight misunderstanding took place on the sidewalk between myself and an older gentleman who was headed westbound. still, we were also headed directly towards each other. a couple people on the same track just going in opposite directions. but while trying to side step i went to my left, and instantaneously him to his right. then me to my right and him to his left in accord once again. this whole number went on for a couple more steps, and it hits me that we look like penguins and i start to smile. he then smiled too. we did eventually successfully avoid one another, much to my dismay. i figured the whole thing could wind up one of those charming movie scenes where everything we're holding flies up in the air and both of us just look up at it like "holy smokes", and then we finally collide and fall backwards to the ground.

well it didn't happen, but it was still nice.

The Clandestine Killed Comfort

i stand in the shower, away. the water hitting me and running down my face. it feels like the rest of my life i could stand there and not know the difference. of course you're on my mind, but it feels much better thinking about you when i'm naked. halfway there. and as the water cascades and descends i can't help but weigh the efforts of our failed relationship. it's all become the past quickly, almost overnight. but i'd rather not leave this space where beauty and heat collide and create an effect that reminds me of our early days together. when they didn't know any better, and we were just relaxing the tensions between us. all the grandiose reasons we gave for trying too hard, and making things more wonderful than we ever knew was possible. an exploratory adventure, we drained it of all it's worth and then left it. and you created the image of an overflowing willingness to heed, and i just took advantage. the fog settles my nerves and i stop thinking about us because clarity isn't the only thing available to score the happenings of all this.

i used to put names on all my failures, now i just place numbers.

Keep On

i was walking down the street getting as close to a skip as i'll allow myself. i was singing aloud with my headphones on like i'd quit my day job. an old man with a cane turned the corner at a much slower pace than he probably desired, and my happiness was radiating. he recognized the smile and rather than question me he just briskly stated as we crossed paths "you're happy". my response went unverbalized but takes one to know one.

now, this was a far cry from the days where i'd get to the city, get off the train and immediately check the time table to see that first train i could take back home. the same days where i'd wind up home at the train station and have to sleep it off in my car for a couple hours. these were the furthest things from my mind. the dark ages. i'd usually wake up sober wondering where i went wrong. and for a while i was skeptical that i'd never be as happy as i had been in the past. and i don't know how but i've finally learned that hurt is an everyday thing - but bundled with hope and respect, and maybe some courage, life is bearable all the time, and enjoyable almost as much. you can have everything and nothing all at the same time, it's the definitions that make the decisions.

and old friend used to tell me that being selfish is a good thing. in my angst i believed it to be the only thing, now i see otherwise. in being selfless i've found pounds of a better type of selfishness. it's great giving back to people and it in fact feels so good that you being to grow accustomed to the feeling, wanting to recreate it at any opportunity. it's turned into a semi-selfish motive for being selfless.

there's just one last thing i'd like to address: people have told you something along the lines of all things that are worth it in life must be attained through hard work. what a sham - i'd put money on the idea that the pioneer of this statement wasn't a very happy individual. as i've grown painstakingly slow over the past couple of years i'm beginning to truly believe that the best things come the easiest.

A Dime A Dozen

and i felt myself breathing heavy just so my ribs might touch your arm. even for that second. that was then. this isn't then. i took a couple steps back and realized what i was wagering. i decided that i must retreat and as i did i focused my attention towards the hangings on my wall. the makings of a mended portrait left here from the prior owners, and it's been here for years but the dust never seems to settle. i feel it begging with me to collapse, to let you reign and domineer this life i've tried to have. and i might be cowering but i haven't collapsed.

and i'm on the train now writing this, reflecting and the woman huddled across from me has coffee and i have nothing, and the smell is going straight to my stomach.

The Disheartening Facts For A Middle-Aged Woman

Dear Diary,
That balding fat therepist of mine continued his string of stupidity at my last session on Friday. He tells me to write Phil a letter where I "act as if nothing bad can come from it". I bet that asshole is on his fourth or fifth marriage. I don't know why I continue to go to him, I guess it's because of the close proximity to my house. Margaret told me that her therapist can read her mind. Oh gosh, if I could retain some therapy guru, he could be my confidant and together we'd solve all my foolish problems. Anyway, here's what I came up with so far...

Dear Phil,
I hate you so much, and I'm so sorry. When I'm next to you in bed I hate it. I hate looking at you and seeing you breathe. Damn I sound harsh, but I'm not meaning to. It's just things have changed so much between us, and I know I'm at least partially to blame. I always think of your sister's 40th birthday party when I sat on Linda's husband's lap, and how angry you were. I was drunk Phil. Plus I was getting rather sick of always playing second fiddle to whichever one of your receptionists was on the payroll at the time. Quite frankly I've endured a lot during all 17 years of this marriage and Phil I've finally woken up. I'm not even going to ask you to give up your insignificant affairs and short-lived relations, I know you're much too selfish. Rather, I'm giving you some notice that I will be engaging in my own escapades shortly and your involvement is not requested. And who knows Phil, maybe one day I'll be gone, and when you send for me it'll take days, and you won't like the response...

It could use some work, but it's not bad so far. I'm gonna go off to sleep now.

XOXO
Elizabeth Wilder

Silence On The Prairie

time is such a twisting burden,
as it's expanse is ever vast
and it ties my mind, however fine
to things that settle-quite like pebbles
at the bottom of a rapid stream
where you wade but aren't seen

and i'm across the widest plain
on my back feeling slain
displace the ground with ecstasy
arms up like a towering tree
getting ready to receive
a calming sensation
from the warmest breeze

then a bird comes to my shrinking view
and begins to mock my grayish hue
he flaps away towards a brighter horizon
i stare at his departure, still none the wiser

Bah Humbug!

in an attempt to save what little money i happen to come by i had made the drastic choice to spend no more than 4 dollars on food. this had reduced me to pizza, mcdonalds, and bagels. it was already a sad situation my friends, and it's only gotten sadder. now i'm almost completely dependent on freebees and the likes.

i've only been out of a job a couple days now, but it's really starting to go to my head. when i was walking to school yesterday i saw a stranded McCafe cup on the side of the road, had to be a medium, or a large. i know the small looks somewhat disproportionate and silly. although i gave the cup what i believed to be a passing glance, i instinctively noticed the monopoly game pieces still completely intact. i figured it was a rushed, environmentally unconscious slave of the workforce merely overlooking the chance at an instant win. although in these rough economic conditions the instant wins seem to be few and far between and are reminiscent of a more glorious economy. i peeled away my two game pieces to reveal a railroad and some other miscellaneous property. i tossed the cup in it's proper trash receptacle. so much for dumb luck, or rather bum luck.

High-Fives & Good Times

i quit my job, i quit drinking*, but most importantly i've quit feeling sorry for myself. recently a lot of things that in the past i've probably considered the very foundation of my essence have vanished, but now i have to reconsider - if the foundation is gone how can the structure still stand? i was mistaken, or i've built new ones over night...?

either way i feel great, and now that my schedule is cleared (that's some unemployment humor) i'll finally have the time to sit still and bask in a voluntary and purposeful life worth living. time seems to be moving at a slower pace, but in the best way. school doesn't warrant the rush that work always did, and i feel as though i've finally gotten a chance to step out of the worlds stuffiest room. as for my newly ascertainable free time i have devised a pretty sweet list of things i plan on doing, all of which seem fantastic yet were totally impossible just days ago. i'll address the money issue when it becomes just that because at this time i have developed in depth tactics to do without. none of which are illegal, no worries.

and in regards to the foundations: most things are temporary. how could i forget?



*daily, and in excess

Sigh-ence Fiction

i've been sighing a lot lately. and not just relief sighs. this is the "there's nothing else i can do" sigh. the kinds that glow of indifference, and acceptance. and sometimes sighs are overshadowed and passed over. but not these ones. for their tiny moments of existence reap my deepest emotions and extract all my negativity in exchange for pure and docile breath. these sighs are my subconscious raising the white flag and begging for a return of the prisoners of war. and presumed dead at one point their return would mark something of a marvel. but placed back in their rightful positions they can serve me once again. indeed, they were rather useless in captivity, but there is hope for them tomorrow, and for me, and for you.

sigh on troops.

A Figure Of Speech

once when i was a clever student of life i wrote the most splendid piece of poetry on how i was dependent upon your love. not much had changed in the months that followed since i produced it, and i pressed hard to overcome that little problem, but when no solution presented itself i did the only thing i knew how and gave up. but i didn't walk away with my head down, no, instead i bagged your love and sold it to my neighbor who promised to put it to good use. when he tried to talk me down i got nasty and told him i'd find another buyer. then he clamored something about the value of a buck and reluctantly bought it.

the son of a bitch then challenged me to a foot race, and without a moments hesitation i accepted. i stopped racing, but for all it's worth i think i would've won. after i dragged myself to the side of the road i sat down and waited. for what i'm not sure, but i was sad when it didn't show up. and in between all the waiting there was some longing. after hours passed i decided to start the walk home. when i arrived i went right to the couch and there i sat down. i retraced the events of the day for all the good and bad. all the love i harbored and i had sold yours. i made some coffee and sipped it slowly. i started to hum the melody of a song an old grade school teacher taught me and with that my eyes got heavy.

i died on that couch. that day. alone.
thinking about what i'd have to live without.

Here Goes Nothing

the weather is getting so cold, but i'm just beginning to heat up.

two days ago i figured out the four words that are gonna save my life:
I'm Gonna Fix It.

i asked my good friends mom when she gave up on life. she told me not up until just recently, and that i'm way too young to give up. i believed her cause in all the years i've known her i've never taken her to be a liar. at least not with me.

i figure it's like this, and correct me if i'm wrong, if you walk down the wrong path - and maybe you're not even too far down this path - but you one day realize what's going on and you say to yourself how the heck did i get this far. and you start to take a look around and you really don't like what you see. so you decide you indeed did get on the wrong path, but what comes next? you can't just be picked up by the hands of God and placed on the correct path. this is LIFE remember? you're left with one realistic, yet unpleasant choice: go back the way you came.

King Me!

Peach Flavored Yogart

yesterday i threw a carton, if that's what you call it, of activia yogurt out the window of my car and after the explosion i loved watching the extra-light orange color canvas itself over the black pavement. it really was the most beautiful thing i've seen in a while.

it turns out no one wants to hear your sadness. or even wants to see it. or acknowledge it. or try and help you through it. although my ex-bff offered me her prozac script. that HAS to count for something...anything?

and i'm a fraction of what i thought i'd be today
caught in the worst jag so i grab my keys race for the car
burning out and i was never that bright to begin with
getting ready, making progress, hands are steady
feeling my flesh burning up from the fear i torched
at the impossibility of being any more scattered
you come along and blow about the debris of me

Number 27

i was sitting on the train and as the conductor passed through the aisle he told me to smile and even went as far to make this motion with his two hands where he traced out the shape of a smile. i was just thinking about the merits of my actions as of late and what's to become of me.

i thought about my dad, and what he would think about me. i used to focus on making him posthumously proud, and for a while i believe i had it nipped in the bud. well maybe the jig is up. what i remember most about my father was his wild sense of humor and his charismatic nature. he was down to earth, and had a real grasp on the fruits of life and how to find them. before he died i'd like to think he was teaching me how to live like he did. happy and satisfied. unfortunately for the both of us he never got around to finishing up the task and so i was left to interpret and fend for myself.

my mother is a miracle and i love her, but the old man had a way of making me feel like i could conquer all of asia and most of europe in a lifetime. and anyway i left the train thinking that it's still within me, somewhere. that feeling. and if the yankees stomp out their world series opponent i might just recapture some of that valiance thats in the depths of my being.

Deliver Me From Despondency

sometimes i wish you knew the hurt that festers my soul
runs rampant and eats my desires whole
the kind that on my best day i ever had
still hallows and carves the pleasantries dry
and you wouldn't know unless it capsized your life
the aches that torment and banter through night
and to no avail you defiled me weak
for you i'm a saint yet faced with defeat

FAQ's

i saw a canvas tote bag with the inscription "i left my heart in california". how nice for that girls heart. its probably sunbathing in a bikini with a frozen cocktail at hand.

i think i left mine somewhere between stability and risk. but after high school. and not too far from now.
somewhere my heart is left sitting on a park bench holding a cardboard sign and on that sign is the handwritten note "i'm a veteran i need money for food". my heart has its eyes closed somewhere. it can't see, it's probably alone, and it definitely misses me.

"do i miss it" you all ask? and i'd love to sit back put my feet up and gush to you about how much i do. but i'm an honest person, i make an honest living, and i'd like to write an honest blog if you don't mind. so, for the record that is this blog, let me say i don't exactly miss it. i miss the heart i had back in the good ol' days, but not the one i left that's holding that sign now. not the one that's skipping beats. quite frankly i've had the passing thought that maybe i'm better off without it. can you picture that? me either so i put it down immediately and went forward.

anyway its all really irrelevant because i don't have the luxury of remembering where i left it. and even if i had it's all just speculation. that stuff about it missing me.

back home i'm beginning to let myself go and i don't care who knows it (which should be made apparent by this here blog entry). i think its fairly safe to say i've gained a couple pounds. and may gain a couple more.

A Day In The Life

Some Nothing Because Currently That's All I Have To Write About:

::just signed up for the FDNY test being given in January of 2011. the recruiter told me a year goes by quick. and if there's something i've learned in my 7th semester at college it's that if you can't beat them join them - civil service is the way to go, pension and everything.

::my professor ended class 10 minutes early and the girl next me to said, almost to herself ,"thank you". funny the things some people are thankful for. i guess she didn't mean it in too heavy a way though.

::I spoke with Gap's customer service consultant, Shelly, a real nice lady btw and she has agreed to help me locate my discontinued beanie. My friend Erin says (and i do realize that this seems to be a reoccurring theme here, my good ol' pal Erin disgracing my dear beanie) that my beanie is a crutch. Well i'll be damned. It seemed to me the worst insult. I mean, what was my beanie to make of all this. After a while though i reconsidered and realized my beanie is in no way crutch. But instead my being in college is?

Because: i basically do what i want and take into account no harm because i am a so called College student. but i am in fact a pathetic soul seeking fuck who can't decide what I want, need, care for, respect, love, admire, desire, despise, idolize, etc.

And The Beat Goes On.

Just Say "Maybe This One Time"

about a week ago i was exhausted lying in my bed, probably about 10 minutes and i would have been out cold. mo was laying next to me waiting for her boyfriend to get out of work and retrieve her ass. then my phone rings and it's my ex-boyfriend robert. as i'm staring at the incoming call screen i wildly decide that instead of ignoring him like i usually opt to do i'll just pick it up and hold my ground that i am in no way hanging out. i pick up his call and we of course go through the usual whats up blah blah blah, basically the precursor to an invite over his house. in my head i'm preparing my speech on how tired i am - so tired that i would in fact crash the car if i tried to drive - then he cuts to the chase with "wanna come over i have a whole lot of salvia"

i was awake.

now i'm not anywhere near a strong advocate of drug use but at this moment i was almost as excited as those twilight fans when a new trailer comes out. my eyes lit up and i told him i'd be right over, not sparing a second.

now i had smoked salvia like a year earlier with a friend and her boyfriend and it didn't affect me too bad. of course i did think the room would behave like a gerbil wheel if i decided to run up the wall. but case in point my head was on straight i knew what was going on. things would change.

salvia comes in all different potencies but still when mo was explaining that i was gonna be a wreck i brushed it off and thought she must be a wuss. turns out i was wrong.

when i got to his house i was super antsy to take my hit. rob packed the bowl, handed me the lighter and sent me on my way. i lit the bowl took a long deep hit, held it in for as long as i could, and then exhaled. within seconds i slipped into the fourth dimension. and this probably sounds totally asinine but i'm thinking way outside the box after that. eg: yesterday i'm thinking to myself like why dont they just do social experiments, lets live on the edge and kick morals to the curb, but then i'm like wait we could be the social experiment "planet earth".

woah baby.

and it's not even like i'd want to smoke the salvia again, it's a real far-out trip. i now refer to it as a space drug hah. but i mean it changed my inner mind workings in a good way.

It's Beyoncé Bitch/Hips Don't Lie

when the great lord took Johnny Cochran i thought i'd seen the last of my heroes to die for a while. at least i didn't have to live to see RFK die, and ike, and i was too young to appreciate the mick, but i bet it would have killed me.

now that mj is gone i realized all the greats are dead - sorry Mr. McCartney but getting robbed by that bitch certainly brought your persona down one giant notch.

look, it's hard for me to admit this to an unforgiving America but i did love Anna Nicole Smith - so shoot me. at least i'm beginning to realize LaLohan isn't really the best role model - especially if you take into account her alcoholism paired with her bad body image =/, and it would be difficult to overlook. i mean if you're talking about criteria for Idol material.

okay but the deal is i need a living breathing idol. one that - even if it's temporary until someone better comes along. and i know i need to grow up eventually but hey, not now. and all i can think is BEYONCE! okay and still Gary Sheffield. and no offense to Gary but i think i'd just really consider him someone i'd like to be my friend, not really a hero so much.

but BEYONCE, i mean c'mon. she can Dance.

i've come to a realization that no matter how much you feel a pull towards comparison you must shy away.

Murran

not too long ago i was at a doctors office that a handful of doctors worked at. when i was reading the list of practicing doctors i noticed one doctor by the name of Maxworthy and i promptly thought that if my last name was Maxworthy i would have been blessed with more of a drive, maybe some ambition too. i'd end up some corporate executive with a 401k and a ton of frequent flier miles. or maybe an award winning novelist with a summer house in saint tropez but instead my last name is Moran. and way before i began researching exactly what the name meant i figured it probably stood for sloppy drunk in some foreign to me irish tongue.

however, after seconds of research i learned it actually means "large" or "great" in gaelic which doesn't seem fitting at all really. especially if you saw how short they all are on that side of the family. so then i read that it is a form of morgan which means belonging to the sea. honestly i liked the way this sounded much better. and then i found the coat of arms and the motto "lucent in tenebris" translated into "they shine in darkness", and then i just laughed.

i guess i'm further removed from my original irish ancestors than i had previously thought.

get this though, i tried to look up Maxworthy and the history behind the name and i got nothing. NOTHING. a witness protection name of some sorts maybe.

A Dreamer Dreams, She Never Dies

the clouds looked like a marble counter top. i was lying outside and i couldn't help but notice. i thought it must retain the cold - quite similar to you.

then i remember this dream i had, where we were both out front. you were upset with me all because i was trying to sway your enemy to get an education. and then suddenly you ran to the left gate and by the time i noticed i had no choice but to go through the right gate. my reaction time has always been subpar and the dream solidified that. i just figured we'd meet in the backyard. but my cellphone rang and it woke me up so i'm not exactly sure how the dream would have played out had it run it's course.

now i just think it's such a shame dreams usually only come around once.
and when i go to bed now i adjust my sound setting in my phone to "alarm only".
just in case.

On Hold

when is the moment you realize you have to give up, move on and/or push forward.
before it's too late.

a few years back, as part of growing up i engaged in a crime and was promptly arrested. it was nothing too serious, but i'll never forget waking up after the haze and the feeling i had. i wanted it to all be a bad dream. i felt defeated, and embarrassed. i didn't want to leave my room for shit. i wanted my mom to hold me in hopes that after i cried for hours i might just feel better, like i felt before the wake of this horrible incident. it was honestly like nothing i've ever felt before. that's why today as i was driving home from work i couldn't have mistaken it for the world. i just didn't understand why.

so i've come to realize that i've absolutely moved beyond reason and i spend an abundance of my spare thought time creating scenarios that are crippling. my only feeling is one of feeling like i can't feel anything. thing is, the pain doesn't consume me anymore, but when it comes, it's not just a wave, it's a tsunami and i feel like i want someone to stab me in the heart because it would just release a shit load of pressure that's been ready to explode out of my chest for too long.

i have no idea what i'm talking about. maybe this is the aftermath of the worst thing in the world. maybe it's just life and i have more to learn.

Untitled

regret is the word that fosters my soul
hope beyond a fence made of bones
lost in the angles of your smile
high off the carpentry of your body

once in awhile i believe this trip
was bound to derail at first slip

the liquid mass has turned to stone
never again to possibly return
so show me all the cards you hold
as i deflate as you steadily swell
with the tricks still up your sleeve
and all that's left for comfort
are your pathetic prophecies

On, Comet! On, Cupid!

i wouldn't have been the first to blink
but now i sit here and have to think
of all the moments i must have wasted
all the situations that could've taken place

and wearier things have happened to me
resulting in famish, yet stuffed to the brim
so sanctions are placed, and feelings erased
you're up in your tank and off through space

a disastrous beginning to a sorry end
free from the middle, is this pretend?

Hearsay

i was in dunkin donuts the other day and i don't know why but it felt like the holiday season. just for a instant. maybe it was the crowd, or rather the fact that i've been delirious. taking nearly everything the wrong way so it's morphed into my own right way. just another compartment that requires some cleaning.

all that aside, yesterday my friends mom was telling me about her sister's neighbor's son who used to work on wall st. that is until he developed a frothy gambling problem and lost everything he had worked so hard to attain. she told me that he currently spends the majority of his time sitting on his bed, in the dark, with no sheets. he's given up on showering. and he's constantly telling everyone he crosses path with that he's about to buy a house. that he's going to closing real soon.

after going on a bit longer she stops and stares at me. the story seems incomplete.
but having reached her conclusion she stares at me and states "something inside him just snapped". it was like she was speaking about some incurable unknown disease he had contracted.

holy shit though wait, is that what's happened to me? and wait, what was it that actually snapped? i mean he can still walk and stuff right?
but i think she was referring to something more unidentifiable.
so here i was left thinking to myself holy shit i want my insides to be strong and formidable - certainly nothing snapable. and i began to freak out a little when i realized that i had seen this young man at a family barbecue a couple weeks earlier and he looked perfectly fine, so now i'm all paranoid as i contemplate what people say about me behind my back.

"Who Does That?"

my friend Erin told me i need to get help. not in the joking way, but in the you seriously need clinical professional help from a therapist way. of course i'm excused because i lack insurance, but in the mean time i've considered the fact that i am a little crazy. roughly speaking. not in the i'm dancing around naked talking about Vietnam way either. just in the i have some issues looming overhead that are causing me some serious fucking problems way.

then i remember a few days back Erin looked at me and i don't exactly remember the context of a surely serious conversation but she said "who does that?" - and she was referring to my red hat and how i wear it everyday. all through summer. all through winter. happy. sad. excited. disappointed. drunk. sober. willing. pumped. angry. laughing. joking. serious. bad. good. beginning. end. in the car. at my job. listening to the radio. and i can't remember my exact response, i'm sure it was a defensive "well i love this hat". but running through my head were a series of cartoon characters because they're the only people i could think about that wear the same hat all the time.

but what followed wasn't a feeling of insecurity or shame. i really don't care if people judge me and think i look stupid with the hat, or think it's weird, or ridiculous and all this garbage that people believe because it's the norm. fuck 'em. and i'm sure a therapist would tear my red hat obsession to shreds, and from it harness the symptoms of a thousand diagnosable conditions. but let the truth be told when i say i know i'm nuts. plain and simple. and until my red hat disappears, or gets hatnapped, or even worse...murdered, i will continue to wear it, and not give it even the slightest piece of a second thought.

that's just me.

and it's really quite a riot because before i was even allowed the chance to publish this post i actually had my hat off at my job and this guy i work with mentioned that it might be too hot to wear, but that it also must be my signature because "it's been going on since before winter". and then in a conversation with Erin titled "Things I Put Up With From You" she immediately called out my red hat as a prime example. she's just too good to me.

Out Of The Ruins

it's funny how we live in the past. pictures plastered everywhere. relax.

life always seems to get harder, as i get exponentially softer. i can feel the skin touching my bones, and it's worse than ever before. i'd like to meet the guy who invented change to show him how i perfected melancholy, cause i bet he'd be jealous. and around here catching any kind of break is like marrying a serpent - it's never really legitimate.

but the sidelines are cool because unlike the players you can see the whole picture. so maybe i should have sat out. and i guess it's more like a puppeteer commandeering my every move. but i'm supposed to give love the ax? stepping out like that just doesn't hold any weight for me.

plus i almost took a drink from the ashtray cup, i hope that doesn't say much about me. or the fact that i'm plastered like those pictures. i can count the number of times i could stand on one hand on more hands than you'd think. it's less confusing if you read it a second time. which reminds me of the rules you wrote, and how they're overbearing. had i caught a second wind i'd waste it away in days.

my final thought so happens to be that my stomach hurts because it's empty, sorta like our lives in general.

Daydream Believer

sometimes i wonder about what could be. and then i break down. the stuff you say tends to scare me, and then i want every dream of mine to be lucid. i worry if it tends to be me.

and i don't care what they say about how when you have nothing to lose you're free to do anything, because i'm still terrified.

and i carry a poem in my pocket that i wrote for you. the paper it's written on is tattered from me touching it. plus, it's incredibly cheesy - but it helps me forget how i'm always too polite.

Sunbathing

sometimes i sit still and i just think. i think up and think out all my insecurities.

i bask in them. and when i'm done i feel better. because after all they're just ideas, and concepts, and feelings of powerful emotion swirling and picking up the debris of my life in their tracks. and well, i'm better than that right?

i used to feel stifled by this crap, but lately i feel freed by speaking to it. i let it get the best of me, but now everything that's left is more endearing to me.

Apology Accepted, Disrespected, Then Neglected

sorry for all the excuses i ever threw your way

they clogged us like traffic heading down the freeway

and if you could only dance, and maybe let me see

i'd say the things to you that you'd never say to me

so flourish while i labor to carve out a sign

quite similar to the one you read

when i lost track of time.

and if i climbed our light post to get a perfect view

i'll come down just in time for having missed you.

Trash Is My Treasure

so i remember a while back those fancy soups waged a war against poor ol campbells for being mostly water. of course in the nature of corporate competition campbells quickly introduced the world to campbells chunky. as i recall from the commercials a guy eating condensed soup was shunned by his peers who considered the soup unsatisfactory and "childish". i always thought it to be a pretty stupid ad campaign and i dont really think you have to sell the fact that non-condensed soup is better. however, consider this: would it seem right to place a bunch of ice cubes into your progresso manhattan clam chowder bowl - i just imagine the ice cubes melting and failing to mix with the soup, idk. but if you put ice cubes into campbells chicken noodle soup its alright - the cubes are at home and once melted they assimilate nicely with the soup and the temperature is optimal. it's kinda like putting ice in your kool-aid.

The Rock & Me

i'd like to be a travler
but i never get too far
whispy weeks of nothingness
seems to be my expertise

hopefully a rock'll find me
and together we'll plunge
because i need that empty air

Gladly I Will

waking up this morning i had a

funny thought

that all mistakes when made

weren't that at all

i cracked a 1/2 a smile and stared

across my room

then i walked outside and laughed

off my impending doom

The Fourth Of July

the Fourth of July is supposed to be about independence, and that's what i intend to make it about. two days from now i will leave, and i won't turn back. of course i'll have to skip out on all those parties i wasn't invited to. but screw getting drunk for once - i do that everyday anyway, it's time to celebrate the holiday that celebrates the day in history this great country was established.



i will be going alone. i did invite a few people - 4 to be exact (erin, mo, jack and caitlin[in that order]) but everyone had plans so my destiny was created.

1. Erin had a Fourth of July party she mustn't miss
2. Mo had work and money that needs to be made.
3. Jack had a dentist appointment scheduled for Monday.
4. Caitlin had previous plans to hang with her family.


as i formed the plan i believed it might even fall apart, that i might chicken out and opt instead to do what most of you will be doing this Saturday. but i saw the sign, or rather heard the song i saw the sign and i realized that for me to emulate my own personal hero Alexander Supertramp, i must leave with, or without company.

i've packed a few changes of clothes, my longboard, a sleeping bag and several classic novels as well as two maps. one of the east coast, and one of d.c. - my destination. i just need to pick up a few disposable cameras, some progresso soup, and maybe a shitload of water.

i hope this goes as well as i think it's gonna.

Life After Death

so

i'm a drink on the rocks

and you won't budge - solid as hell

i'm fixated on you and you haven't a clue

so

a year from now if i'm not better

i'll get in my car, retire to the garage

and sleep with the chances i let pass us

so

when my insides are out, i'll be down for the count

Opinions, POV's, And The Whole Shebang

how hard is it to respect other's opinions? damn hard, that's how hard - but why? we all see things differently for an array of reasons, but i think it's hard for people to grasp that opinions can't be right or wrong and on top of that everyone is entitled to their own. bastards! hahah I LOVE LIFE. but anyway, it's a great adventure because opinions can be mean, nice, selfish, uneducated, researched, stupid, foul -and well just about anything right.

hey, do you think it's entirely impossible to disagree with an opinion but still respect it? for instance a racist opinion - how can you respect that? opinions are a tough topic if you ask me. we should respect other peoples opinions because being closed minded isn't a good look for anyone.
and i've tried to be honest in my own opinions and at times it's hard because i'm non-confrontational (sober anyway) and i dont want to offend anyone with my own stupidity.

but i think therefore i am - and what are we really without our opinions?

Outlets & Vices

i've accumulated too many, thanks blogger!

1. anxiety - nail biting.
2. anger - punching things, never people.
3. pain/love - blogging.
4. bordem/no direction/being a rolling stone - beer and pot.
5. excitement - single ladies dance.

Life's Short So Get To The Point

my latest semester at school was somewhat of a bust. regardless of all the "priceless" knowledge that was passed on to me the one thing i remember wasn't even in the realm of usual course material that i might later be tested on. it wasn't something i spend time studying, but rather it's something i examined. it was when my english professor - and quite possibly my final english professor in my college years - said to the class (tentatively titled Great Works Of Literature II) that there is an overall sense of nothingness to the grand point of life, and that all we really have are our choices. while i still felt confused and scared about life i at least realized that my feelings on such matters weren't totally off base. however, it still seems to me there is NO actual point - so maybe we choose what our point will be, or try to choose. it's challenging though to sum a life up into one point, even if you push aside success/failure. and i'm thinking you can't really judge other people's point - how about feeling sorry they let their point choose them? i've tied this all back to my new favorite book, Into The Wild, sorry augusten burroughs. because chris mccandless didn't let his point choose him, no matter how much it hurt and disappointed others. he seemed to understand you can't waste your life and disappoint yourself.


so, i've decided that i want my point in life to just create as much happiness as humanly possible for myself and the people i love. it seems easy but i'm gonna keep it in mind because i dont wanna wake up one day and have results from a bunch of choices i made that don't reflect or resemble me and what i want out of this life.

If You Seek Amy

simply put, things that i considered sacred you put on blast.

thank you.




and i hope you die lying next to me so i can smell the decay of your death first.




try that on for size.

Light Poetic Song

i had been nervous because the scapegoat i elected was clearly condemning every thought i produced. i got scared when my grievances walked beyond the boundaries i had cast in stone. flexing their over-sized muscles, i was nothing but a puddle, and i was eerily still. so maybe i surrendered, for the weak of heart - maybe that's another excuse - it was damaged towards the start. catch this though, i hired a priest who i played for keeps to perform an exorcism. things went great, the demons escaped and the hunch on my back fell off. but when i asked the priest to leave, he was in an uproar at my knees. pleading and screaming! and with no other choice i found a large enough bat and i took that old priest out.

Bemusement At It's Best (And Then Some)

i thought: i couldn't live without you.
and once at my job you parked out front, and i ran out to your car - your window was down and i wanted to kiss you, i didn't. it was the first time i was taller than you. i liked that, and i wondered if you had noticed.

i flash forward: another time i was asleep on the couch - but i heard you cleaning up and i didn't know in a few days you'd kill me. or maybe just cast me aside. well, i haven't stopped disappointing since. it's only now, after i've tossed the doctrine we made years ago out, am i able to sit down and see that i was waiting in a vacuum for your fresh air. had i painted a self-portrait when i was with you it would look something like a smothered sun behind the whitest cloud.

today i've walked off your path, and out of my rotten dreams that had been festering long after their expiration date. and i was pleased when i found new life and affections. and this time i'm convinced it's for real. unlike the life with you, a collection of dialogues in which neither of us were present.

A-S-S

back in my hey day i lived in an apartment complex that featured a barn like roof which was just the perfect surface for a game called A-S-S. the game required one simple piece of equipment and that was a handball.

the rules were quite simple. throw the ball as hard as you can, or just plain hard, at the wall and do everything in your power to catch it after the bounce. however, if you for any reason touch the ball and fail to catch it you receive a letter. or if you throw it and miss the wall you recieve a letter. quite similar to the idea in H-O-R-S-E. you could play with two people - or ten (choosing to play with ten could prove to be terribly dangerous though as you'll see later on).

the first person to spell out the word ass was then required to stand face first against the brick wall with their back to the rest of the players. every other player was then allowed to throw the ball at the failed player from about 10 or 15 paces away.

what's funny is sometimes for whatever reason you might just lob it over and barely tap them. like the fear alone of being pelted in the back of the neck was enough. other times you said "to hell with 'em" and you fucking hurled that Sky Bounce as hard as you fucking could and with the precision of a sharp shooter and watching even your best friend cringe and hit the ground made you feel light as air as if you just threw a strike, or hit a bulls eye.

A Tribute To The Canine

TOP 5 DOGS IN HISTORY

5. Pluto: Behind every successful mouse there is a strong dog -enough said.

4. Old Yeller: At first this stray was unwanted, but this protective pooch won the love of Coates family and was eventually payed for with a homecooked meal.

3. Lassie: Loving and smart this canine saved the day more than once, and was one little boys best friend.

2. Snoopy: This dynamic dog is a deep intellectual and is a habitual roof top dweller.

1. Balto: Way back in 1925 this heroic dog rescued an entire population when he pulled a sled of medicine nearly one thousand miles.

RUNNER UPS

Scooby-Doo: Along with the gang this ageless pup has been solving tricky supernatural mysteries since the 70's.

Underdog: A rhyming hero and pop culture icon, he was there whenever Sweet Polly Purebread needed him.

Honorable Mentions: Odie, Porkchop, Shiloh, Comet

Food For Thought

i'm a mindless romantic. i believe things should last forever and never sacrifice even an inch of their beauty. like when my friends parents would talk openly about how they were gonna get divorced come summer, i'd cover my ears and refuse to take them seriously. or how this past week i threw my cell phone and it subsequently broke. this is only after Emily told me she got drunk and told her ex-boyfriend that she never loved him.

lately i find this to be my biggest problem. mostly because i refuse to stop believing, and so i fight it. but the cold truth is, i'm fighting nature, and mother nature is not a romantic. come to think of it she's pretty much a heartless bitch who feeds off chance and change. flirting, she is a tease. and i don't fit into mother natures plans, or rather she doesn't fit into mine. and so i'm polished with fury, and sad more than i should be. but i'll play both sides like a carefully tuned piano, and with success. pounding the keys i never knew existed. hard energy produces sounds unconfined by walls and the likes - i'll take a bow and exit stage, but not before the audience calls for an encore. i don't oblige.

now, think about a fly stuck to a fly strip. struggling so unnecessarily.
that's you.

Flushing Out My Childhood

i wish i could still grow 3 inches in a year. and actually make it to a doctor when i'm sick. someone tells me "i haven't seen you since you were a baby", i smile and act polite - no hard feelings. when did it end?

spray myself with the hose then jump in the pool. ride in the way back of my moms station wagon and harass all other motorists. carefree and mischievous. death was for suckers, and risk was never evaluated.

this is what revisiting kool-aid will do to you =/

Pizza Parlay

i got pizza today, and i was the only one in the place. my own solitude seems to stalk me relentlessly. but then a man walked in. after receiving his pizza he walked up to me and asked if he could sit with me. there were at least 10 other empty tables and i had my back to him the entire time so i was kind of surprised. i barely lifted my head, but mumbled back "yeah, sure". after he sat down he wasted no time and asked me "what's the matter". i told him i didn't know. he said that was a lie because everyone knows, then i started to cry. consumed by my own grief, i would soon find myself enveloped in his.

he looked guilty and worried but stared into my eyes and told me he was sorry and that he didn't mean to upset me. i told him it wasn't his fault. he did a half-grunt type of laugh and told me that his wife said that when she left him several years ago, he seemed to have lost track of them all. he told me that he hadn't seen his daughter since she was 11 years old, and that he didn't know why but i reminded him of her, or at least what he remembered. i wondered to myself why his wife had left him. he was in his late forties and he seemed to be sharing a lot with a total stranger. i thought he shouldn't mind me since i'm such a wreck, but at the risk of sounding anti-social i held back. as i was finishing up he asked if he could give me his number, i told him that would be fine but that i'd never call. he said that's okay by him. and i had only taken one or two steps away from him and towards the door when it occurred to me what i was doing. so i turned around and asked him "this won't add to your misery will it?". then he answered me looking out the window at the passing strangers, their lives so intangible just feet away, with "what misery?", finally his eyes were back locked in with mine when he winked. i walked out.

Last Day At The Opera

what if there was something that reaches past the ordinary mediocre grand scheme of love.
it's a vapor that hinders causing any clarity i had to disappear.
the reaching seems special with results that break the life between two people.
i've yet to prove it despite the evidence mounting on your every word.
all i hear is lies.
it's backlash from the way we took to get here.

and now i want to let it all go,
cause nothing goes back. the origin is over,
the only scar i have from you's the love within my heart -
a constant reminder of my diminished sense of smart

I Think I Can

i feel like flash flooding, whatever that means. i feel like an organ being rejected by a body. when i ran up the stairs today, out of penn station, i wanted to keep on running. the deliberate and passionless nature of school, the tube, pals, drunk, sleep, driving, eat, single ladies dance, work, oil changes, bumming cigarette, and wasteful spending have trapped me. i feel like that parachute exercise in early education gym class, it's slowly coming over me, and when it finally does i can't get out. what i need to do is start a fire under that parachute to lift it up off of me, that way i can quickly run out.

this woman i watch on the train always wore black, and today she threw me a curve ball and showed up in peddle pushers (the nerve), a white blouse, and a light green blazer. spring is too early, i'm not ready for it. i crave the weather excuse for not leaving the house, now it's just another thing working against me. between me and you, i almost cried. i can't put my finger on exactly why but it's something between the proof she wore that spring is here with her on board and the static nature of myself.

maybe someone could read me The Little Engine That Could
but then i remember what shel silverstein said so poetically "If the track is tough and the hill is rough, THINKING you can just ain't enough!"

so i need a match, and a sack to place the pieces i'm picking up.

Nip It In The Bud

i was looking down at the hole in the crotch of my pants and all i can think is nip it in the bud meghan, before it gets any worse. i already had to get the other side of the inseam patched up when it formed a hole that i could fit my leg through. i'd show you a picture of these pants that i wear everyday, but i'd rather just leave it up to your imagination which will probably render it far less worse than it actually is.

i should throw them out, there's no doubt. i just can't let go. i love these pants even though they're fallen apart and aren't nearly as great as they once were. more importantly they're comfortable, i love the way they feel. what's wrong with me? they were used when i got them. and now they're just pathetic. these pants are like an open wound i constantly wear. i have no shame, you think i could find some?

thankfully summer is close, i'll have to start wearing shorts. fall comes up quickly though, i could get sucked right back in to the black corduroy pants.

i'm constantly mistaking liabilities for assets.

Faceless Memories

when i don't see someone for a bit i slowly forget what they look like. its the first step in a fading memory of someone. it's like when a tv program gets cancelled, and at first it's all so fresh - but after a while you can't even remember the shows name, maybe a few plots and the theme song if you're lucky. i have too many faceless memories of people. i might remember a certain feature, turning my memory into something along the lines of "fat and big ears" or "bushy eyebrows and pointy nose". i never imagine it happening to anyone, them turning into this faceless memory. i can't comprehend how after i saw someone everyday for years within months they can fall out and become diluted, failed memories. memories that end up straining you to recall the precious details that make up a persons facial structure. and maybe you can look at a photograph, but it's not yours to have at your beck and call, waiting for you to need it, so it can be displayed and you can move on without that empty dry feeling on the other side. the one that yells disappointment. that hurt that lets you know that person is gone, if not in reality then in your god damn memory where you needed them to stay and wait for you to call on them.

An Open Letter To Apple

i have a bone to pick with apple. i might be to blame, but i'm going to bank on it being the mega giant corporations fault, and i'll lay it out for you. i entered into this relationship with apple never once thinking it could end up being a bad relationship. one where apple takes what it can get and i get nothing, except a hole burnt in my pocket, and apple precedent that you just can't shake.

i bought my first mp3 player at the tender age of 15, it was the size of walkman and it had a whopping thirty gigs of memory. i didn't choose the flashy ipod, with it's super white face and mirrored back, it's token "wheel" - instead i opted for a Creative brand mp3 that sported nothing great except an hundred dollar price difference. the screen resembled that of a beepers and was digital like an alarm clock. i ended up leaving it on a park bench, and never saw it again. my next mp3 player was an iRiver, i don't even know how i remembered this so i just googled it to make sure, but i LOVED it. it had an fm radio, a voice recorder, and you could view pictures. LOST.

my next mp3 player was where i made the biggest mistake of my life. the ipod shuffle is the gateway mp3 into the apple universe. i opened pandoras box. i got my first generation ipod shuffle for my high school graduation, it was the white one that came with the lanyard. it had no screen. i was strictly about the music then. i thought we would be together forever. i felt like those silhouettes on the commercials, dancing with my ipod swinging around my neck. unfortunately this broke and was replaced with the 2nd generation ipod shuffle that we all know today, it was orange and yeah it's a clip. goodbye fun lanyard. but i was still happy, it was lightweight and held it's charge endlessly. and it was durable so i could be reckless with it.

i eventually gave it away when a friend gave me a spare nano she had. it was 8 gigabytes, and i was aching to fill that shit up. this ipod opened my eyes to the wonders of album artwork, and scrolling. i was brought back to storing photos, and making playlists. life was wonderful. i could never again sport a non-apple mp3 player. when i had some extra money lying around and i saw all these people with itouches, i began to wonder what i could do with one of those magnificent pieces of apple art. i didn't wonder too long, and about 1 month later i purchased a previously used first generation 16gb itouch off ebay. when it arrived it was love at first sight. i spent hours on end during the summer perfecting my itunes so my itouch would be flawless - which it is.

a couple days ago my itouch stopped producing sound in the left earphone. it will cost me at least $250 bucks to replace this, and according to the apple website just as much to fix it. thankfully the government's got my back on this one and recently sent me a little check. i also have an opportunity at the 2nd generation itouch with its ever attractive speaker. and if next month they slap a camera on the 3rd generation itouch i'll just die. cause i'll be in mp3 limbo with a great ipod, but not quite top of the line. and that's just not acceptable anymore because apple has molded me to recognize the best and yearn for it. dammit.

Weathering The Storm

me and my friend mo sat in my car parked in my driveway. she told me the left side of my house looked more fall-ish, and the right side looked more spring-ish. mo was in the drivers seat, wearing a long sleeve dark gray shirt looking at home with her fall-ish backdrop. and i with a yellow softball tee looking rather dapper and ready to jump out on the spring side of the house. it's funny how the weather affects us, me and mo. we were just two people moving at a different pace, but reaching towards the same goal, summer. all that aside, i enjoy mo's company. we share alot of common beliefs, like getting high a lot and not trying too hard. she'd probably be pissed that i said that. i bet in her opinion we try really hard and have overcome "obstacles"-meh. but the real bottom line is she can put up with my antics like no other. like when i call her place of employment drunk and knowingly force a restaurant wide announcement calling her to the phone, eventually causing mo to think the unthinkable: there was a death. haha my sister said no wonder she wasn't pissed, she was relieved no one died. or how when she would incessantly ask me to stop slamming her car door, and no matter how hard i tried to remember not to forget i would. and don't' get me wrong, she isn't exactly mother theresa so she'd be pissed, but mo would still put up with it uhhh i mean me. i also piss her off when i sit at stop signs for too long, or don't go at green lights because i don't feel ready. i know it bothers her so i try not to.

also, my sister is extremely paranoid i'm going to start blogging about her. so folks, just a mere second ago her toothpicks fell and she fell to the floor after them and screamed "not my toothpicks, let us just pretend this didn't happen" and then becoming aware of the situation and me at the computer she looked up all nervous and added "oh please don't blog about this". she's 23 and 2 months with extra baggage, get at me if you want the digits. woop woop.

p.s. thats a picture of mo i obamaized.

"The Time Has Come" The Walrus Said

so, a black cat crossed my path. it was the first time that's happened.
and then i almost hit an orange cat driving. i've been feeling, well, shitty. so i went out an bought a leather camel at 15 bucks from the flea market, it's from india. it's hard to imagine a camel looking valiant and strong, rather than feeble and boring. i for some reason think this camel is going to pull me out of this slump. i purchased it for that particular reason. it's senseless i know, but isn't everything that's comfortable. camels are a lot like llamas, physically anyway.

and another thing. in the process of ridding persons/places/and things from my personal life something just a bit short of amazing happened. because you know how in this dangerous age of technological rule anytime you go to delete something the bot on the other side, in an act that eerily resembles sovereignty protection, will produce a window that will pop up just after you click to delete the unwanted gigabytes asking you "Are you SURE you want to delete this?". it's like a last minute attempt at creating all these do or die thoughts within you. the second guessing usually begins. am i sure? does this text message actually contain pertinent information i will at some point need in the future? hahah, but to cut to the chase if i may, i went to delete something from my phone and i didn't actually want to, but i needed to yanno and as for the part where the bot has absolutely no faith in my ability to click the correct button, it didn't happen. there was no is-this-your-final-answer moment. but i guess it was, for now.

Today's Hate Is Tomorrow's Date: A Downward Spiral

i am so self destructive, and i pick myself apart at every corner. especially when i'm looking around for you.
oh my god - this pain, how did it get so bad? not such a while ago things were pretty and i could look at the day and smile. i found the little promises to help stabilize my moods. sometimes i'd even help myself. i only got headaches when i couldn't sleep. i could act interested in current news without a trace of hatred and anger boiling and turning within me. the type of anger that doesn't even have direction. i feel my fists, the tension. they're so tight.
i'd like to skip this all and get to the blissful shit that's surely waiting for me. plus i don't know where to go from here. you dont' think it left without me? i am so frightened, i'd give up if it didn't sound so fucking terrible. i'd settle, but only if i had to and it was asked of me. i'd still resist. you don't know me, i'm shaking my head.

and there has to be something missing. i don't know what, but it's gone. probably walked out on me along with every other rustic inch of my heart, and it's angst and all it belongs to. i'm the most useless piece of an instrumental union. i'm nothing more than fear. my scope is lessened by the hour and all i see is bitter rivals i once knew tearing up the soil and planting new seeds that a storm wind carried forward. the future is the product of a minute, or less. and i'm in it. can you please kill me? i just sighed when i shouldn't have. i exhale and it's all done with. another flowering cloud that won't turn up. maybe it's the heat because it's certainly not me.

[LIST OF XMAS SONGS THAT CAN BE ENJOYED OUT OF SEASON]
for e.

1. George Michael - This Christmas

2. Mariah Carey - All I Want For Christmas

3. Fall Out Boy - Yule Shoot Your Eye Out

4. Madonna - Santa Baby

5. John Lennon - So This Is Christmas

Legit Questions Before Noon

[LEGITIMATE QUESTIONS]

1. is it possible nowadays to use a pay phone and not look shady?

2. was that a cough or a sneeze?

3. why would anybody eat the bruises on a banana?

4. is it bad that when i look at my unopened extra playstation controller it makes me feel lonely?

A Lyre

haven't you ever felt so broken you just wanted to disappear?
or so lonely you wanna throw the towel in?
could happiness become extinct , or just die out?
you know what's weird? when i was really happy, like genuinely happy, i wanted to die because i figured what are the chances i'll die happy yanno.
i looked coldly into the eyes of friend/co-worker and told her happiness is a lie. and the sad part was i believed it, for at least that second. i have, through the workings of life decided that's the lie. i think i wanted to believe it because that would have meant i'm not a total failure - yet. it could have meant i might keep things lax for a while, and stopped feeling that pressure - which has for better or worse, become my motivation. so now that i've regained my stance on happiness what am i to do?

keep looking for it.

happiness is a 9 letter word. and it's the truth.

Sticks & Stones

i love sad stories. i make my friends tell me theirs over and over again. they never get old to me, and each friend has one in particular that i love. here is brittneys, and i wont change her name and not because i'm insensitive (i am), but because girlfriend don't care.

i'm gonna take you back many years ago, when brittney was still innocent and pure. when she thought the sun was the other side of the moon and still believed her parents to be in love. before hard work and verbal banter from colleagues and family about her smoking habit, and the rather melancholy mood that follows.

she was a small elementary school student, and with that said happiness was easy to come by. she had gotten a book from the school library, but while she had it out something terrible happened. soda got spilled on the book, and it was completely ruined. a few days later and with no other choice, the then pathetic third grader that brittney was took the book back to the library apologized and received a small lecture. she felt much relief because at 8 years old nothing could be more stressful.

the next year (and the next and the next and the next until her moving up ceremony in 5th grade) during the library orientation speech the librarian began describing that students must take care of their books when they're out of the library, because surely it's a privilege to be allowed to do so. she spoke about not bending the bindings, and not folding the corners of the pages, and when she got to the part about being careful around liquids she reached below the podium and pulled out the copy of the book that brittney had ruined the year earlier. she showed it off as the "what not to do" example. brittney hung her head down, remembering the embarrassment, nervous that someone else might know besides the librarian. this was the first time a mistake would come back to haunt her. she will be the "what not to do" example a couple more times.

happy april fools day.

In Love, I Fell

my memory of you, it was this time last year - i fell in love with you, somewhere between going to your house and the drinking. you would cook hot dogs in the microwave and tell me i could never be fat. i got restless sleeping on the floor, hiding under covers chilled, and i left before the dawn. this was before i lost our solidarity.

after, i wake up now in the middle of sleeping and all i feel is an emptiness. kind of like what you told me about when what's her face left.

and when with you by chris brown comes on the radio i feel his villains, but mostly my own.

A Spectacle

rip jade goody (1981-2009)

not that i ever watched her for a second on tv (i heard she's a real pisser though), but i'm an avid perezhilton.com reader and when i first saw her all bald and looking like death my infatuation began. the one where i spent many minutes of the day wondering, not if, but when she's gonna die. and met with the possibility of a miracle, while beautiful, wasn't the happy ending i wanted. terminal is the word i fell in love with. it meant the end, and i was gonna have a front row seat as goody (respectably, if possible) whored herself out to the media. god bless you girl. today though i could finally relax, because goody passed away yesterday.

i would raise a glass to jade goody for working those muthafuckin media folk like no one before or after will!

but in closing i'd like to say i do feel a deep sadness for her small children, and husband. goody was a representation of reality tv. she earned her living off it, even in death. now her kids can have some financial flexibility. someone faking compassion might object that this isn't what's important right now but, but in reality it is. and the reality of life is death so who better to document it than goody.

Looking Older All The Time, Feeling Younger In My Mind

oh man.

last night i'm with my two friends who work with small children. one is swim instructor and one is a elementary school student teacher. as we're relaxing i suddenly feel myself far removed from the conversation as it turns it's attention towards "their" kids (both of them have become very possesive, you'd think they carried all 30 somewhat kids for 9 months - yack). but they say the kids are just terrible sometimes and especially if they're in bunches and without a strong authoritative figure. they're running all over so fast, zipping right by you, kickballs flying everywhere, screaming, yelling, and the whole nine yards.

and i don't hear another word they say because in my head i'm doing a comparison between the kids just described, and this kid - me. i wondered why a 20 year old like myself felt as if i was just described. i thought about when i was 10, and how that was 10 long years ago, and i asked myself what has changed. i still feel the same chaos around me and i still feel small. although currently i am college student, i was drinking a beer, my car was parked out front, i hold a part time job...are these just our ways of faking it? these are supposed to be the things that make me older? and then i looked down and i was worried because i was wearing the same sneaker i wore when i was 10. of course they are different colors, maybe a little bit bigger in size, but the same model none the less. they are adidas sambas in case you cared, a good shoe design that has obviously withstood the test of time.

but will i?

"Her Cycle Leaked"

i work at a dry cleaners and i mean people always think like "ew you touch peoples dirty clothes", and for the most part no. you'd be crazy to think that people bring in dirty clothes to get clean, these are borderline clean clothes. sometimes folded. okay so there is the occasional cat piss, cat puke, cat whatever - and you can tell all your cat loving friends that preach about how clean cats are that the majority of animal related stains are from cats - but you just hold the corner and try not to breathe through your nose, no big deal. and i think mothballs are an acquired scent, if you will.

the phone rings at the cleaners, i pick up. on the other line is a young girl looking for my manager, i can tell she's in a pickle. she is very hesitant on the phone and for at least 30 seconds all i heard was sighs and heavy breathing, until she finally says she has a customer with a stain on her pants. just getting that out of her took forever. after i had to twist her arm to hear why the hell she's calling she tells me "this customers cycle leaked and she doesn't want a man to see it so we're gonna send it over in a separate bag with a note for Cindy". did i really just hear that? what a fucked up choice of words...her "cycle leaked". i wanted to tell her it sounded like a personal problem. but at the same time if your "cycle" wasn't leaking wouldn't that be bad? i kinda think leak is a word reserved for plumbing issues. and the second part about not wanting a man to see it...like whaaaaaaaaat the hell, only one woman works at my job and if you think shes gonna like hand wash your period stains out and not be totally repulsed you've lost it...or probably never had it to begin with.

after all this at the end of our conversation she asks me to repeat it all back to her. so i say "you got pants with a period stain you're gonna send them over separately". she then sighs for what seems like forever and says "never mind i'll just call Cindy in the morning".