and in the midst of my photo searching I was reminded of a great book I read once...it's crazy...but awesome:
here's the hilarious website for the book:
http://noonebelongsheremorethanyou.com/
Friday, February 12, 2010
Heart Day
In honor of Valentines Day, and in the hopes that all this love lifts my spirits...here are some fun images that made me happy:
and in the midst of my photo searching I was reminded of a great book I read once...it's crazy...but awesome:
here's the hilarious website for the book:
http://noonebelongsheremorethanyou.com/
and in the midst of my photo searching I was reminded of a great book I read once...it's crazy...but awesome:
here's the hilarious website for the book:
http://noonebelongsheremorethanyou.com/
Moving To Seattle
Article
(Seattle named 21st best city for twentysomethings)
I thought Seattle was also the number one city for suicides?
So lets just throw a bunch of confused, lost, and hopeless twenty somethings in with that statistic and it'll make for a great story.
(Seattle named 21st best city for twentysomethings)
I thought Seattle was also the number one city for suicides?
So lets just throw a bunch of confused, lost, and hopeless twenty somethings in with that statistic and it'll make for a great story.
And we're back
So I decided it was time I start becoming an active blogger, in the hopes that someone, somewhere will read my crap and end up allowing me to publish a book about the crazy shit I've been through. So here's hoping...
(an old one I found about 2008)
365 days.
8765 hours.
535600 minutes.
31,556,926 seconds.
1 ex boyfriend released from jail.
2 notches added to the good ol' bedpost.
3 apartments.
46 overdraft fees.
A year. A passing. A change. A constant. It's always inevitably too short, too hard, too fast, too slow, too busy, too boring, too uneventful, too exciting, and we never see the end coming. It was just yesterday that we had a new years party? Where did 200_ go? When did it become 2000? It goes faster and faster, they say.
Like time was created to free us, and we always act shocked when it confines us.
My year, like any other year I've had, was a year. Full of crap and happy times and blessings and curses and long nights and short nights and fun nights and boring ones. Some nights consisted of taking too much NyQuil to pass out and forget about the days, some nights I slept for two hours because I was up doing much more important things. The world turned, the sun set, the moon set, the cars crashed, the people died, the other people celebrated, the friends got engaged, the others broke up, some people found love, others found out how much they hated love. I tiptoed into online dating, hated it. I ran into past lovers, hated it. I met new friends and people, hated it. I spent money i didn't have, of course. I cried a lot. too much.
I made my life into a story, a novel, one that I thought I'd want to read. I tried to do everything everyone told me to do and put on a pretty face and smiled and tried hard and worked hard and did what was meant to be done. And believe me, I did it all gracefully because for a long long long time my life was in uproar and was buried beneath pain. I was able to put on an honest happy face because I was honestly happy. But I realize, in retrospect, that I was just happy I wasn't hurting anymore (and my God is that a wonderful thing), to be in such a place free of pain. My eyes are brighter, I can feel it. My steps a little softer, my heart a little more patient. Because I am not slowly dying anymore. That's what 2008 brought me, a lightening of things. An immeasurable amount of possibilities and hope and light and love and laughter, and although not all days were sunshiney and fogless - they were all, in their own way, a day which I could be happy to be alive because I was out of the desert and I was out of misery and I was out of feeling like every day I was trying to fight air, like it had some hold on me.
The beginning started rough, and it caught me off guard, and I was like really what the fuck. Wasn't 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007 enough? Wasn't it? Like WHAT THE FUCK! Why do you have to take 2008 too. I was so bitter, so angry that it wasn't going my way...and I was just tired of trying to fight it to make it go my way. So I said FUCK YOU RIGHT BACK LIFE. Fuck you friends, fuck you bad boyfriends, fuck you horrible people and circumstance and situations. And i let it all go. I said fuck you, and good riddens because I dont want your contamination into my days. I don't care if I'm bored and friendless and ugly and boyfriendless, get the hell out of my days.
When i did that, when I said fuck you back, my life changed. And I dont mean in that sappy cliche way, like omygosh everything was perfect and I fell in love and the sun was out and we were on the beach and the waves were crashing and this instrumental song was playing and the birds were chirping and I was wearing pink and some sort of flowly skirt, it changed in a way that was like : life's hard. period. it is. it's not pretty and paint-by-number and magical. it's fucking hard. but it's a hell of a lot easier when you put good things around you. like you do shit you like to do, and you read books you wanna read, and you talk to people you like and who like you back, and you speak your mind even if the truth kinda makes you look like an asshole, and you don't put up with bullshit, FROM ANYONE. And life's hard, but you stop trying to suffocate it with medicine and bandaids, and you just let it breathe...
hallelujah.
hallelujah.
hallelujah.
breathe mother fucker, breathe!
A year. A passing. A change. A constant. It's always inevitably too short, too hard, too fast, too slow, too busy, too boring, too uneventful, too exciting, and we never see the end coming. It was just yesterday that we had a new years party? Where did 200_ go? When did it become 2000? It goes faster and faster, they say.
Like time was created to free us, and we always act shocked when it confines us.
My year, like any other year I've had, was a year. Full of crap and happy times and blessings and curses and long nights and short nights and fun nights and boring ones. Some nights consisted of taking too much NyQuil to pass out and forget about the days, some nights I slept for two hours because I was up doing much more important things. The world turned, the sun set, the moon set, the cars crashed, the people died, the other people celebrated, the friends got engaged, the others broke up, some people found love, others found out how much they hated love. I tiptoed into online dating, hated it. I ran into past lovers, hated it. I met new friends and people, hated it. I spent money i didn't have, of course. I cried a lot. too much.
I made my life into a story, a novel, one that I thought I'd want to read. I tried to do everything everyone told me to do and put on a pretty face and smiled and tried hard and worked hard and did what was meant to be done. And believe me, I did it all gracefully because for a long long long time my life was in uproar and was buried beneath pain. I was able to put on an honest happy face because I was honestly happy. But I realize, in retrospect, that I was just happy I wasn't hurting anymore (and my God is that a wonderful thing), to be in such a place free of pain. My eyes are brighter, I can feel it. My steps a little softer, my heart a little more patient. Because I am not slowly dying anymore. That's what 2008 brought me, a lightening of things. An immeasurable amount of possibilities and hope and light and love and laughter, and although not all days were sunshiney and fogless - they were all, in their own way, a day which I could be happy to be alive because I was out of the desert and I was out of misery and I was out of feeling like every day I was trying to fight air, like it had some hold on me.
The beginning started rough, and it caught me off guard, and I was like really what the fuck. Wasn't 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007 enough? Wasn't it? Like WHAT THE FUCK! Why do you have to take 2008 too. I was so bitter, so angry that it wasn't going my way...and I was just tired of trying to fight it to make it go my way. So I said FUCK YOU RIGHT BACK LIFE. Fuck you friends, fuck you bad boyfriends, fuck you horrible people and circumstance and situations. And i let it all go. I said fuck you, and good riddens because I dont want your contamination into my days. I don't care if I'm bored and friendless and ugly and boyfriendless, get the hell out of my days.
When i did that, when I said fuck you back, my life changed. And I dont mean in that sappy cliche way, like omygosh everything was perfect and I fell in love and the sun was out and we were on the beach and the waves were crashing and this instrumental song was playing and the birds were chirping and I was wearing pink and some sort of flowly skirt, it changed in a way that was like : life's hard. period. it is. it's not pretty and paint-by-number and magical. it's fucking hard. but it's a hell of a lot easier when you put good things around you. like you do shit you like to do, and you read books you wanna read, and you talk to people you like and who like you back, and you speak your mind even if the truth kinda makes you look like an asshole, and you don't put up with bullshit, FROM ANYONE. And life's hard, but you stop trying to suffocate it with medicine and bandaids, and you just let it breathe...
hallelujah.
hallelujah.
hallelujah.
breathe mother fucker, breathe!
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Dress Up
Every morning I put on my fancy work clothes and I do my hair like the grown ups do and I grin and bear wearing heels everyday, and I wear collared shirts and jewelry and I walk around on my lunch hour and I wear dangly earrings, and it all feels like I'm a little girl playing dress up. I feel like I'm wearing an orange jump suit and everyone is staring at me wondering who I am and what I am doing here. I feel like an impostor in this business world, and this nine to five thingy. It's as though I am making the phone calls to clients and sending out letters on fancy paper to imaginary people who don't really exist. It feels like a concoction of actuality and as though the life I am living is just a dream world and I'm not ready to be here or old enough to be here, and I'm already tired of being here and I don't know how I am supposed to last another 50 years doing this shit.
Every day, I wake up and think "I wonder what would happen if I just didn't go in to work today." and I contemplate where I could move to and how I could escape this pretend thing I have. My eyes water from staring at the computer screen, my wrists hurt from typing too much, my brain shuts down at three for various reasons, and I wonder how long this is going to last me. And when in the world is someone going to call me out on this whole ordeal? I know everyone thinks it. As they drive by me at noon in their cars they've got to be wondering what I am doing here. How I am surviving. Who I am.
I look at other girls my age and I laugh at them. Their clothes are from Target and Cheap Mall stores. Their pants aren't tailored and they don't have three pleats in the front. I know they wear their heels to the bars on Friday, and their skirts are borrowed from their mothers closets (as mine are). It's hysterical really. How this whole grown up thing happened.
I mean, it started out in elementary school, you're taken from your parents and thrown into a land of learning, and recess. You do what you do and you're little. Then there's that whole awkward three years of middle school where who knows what the fuck you are. Then high school where you're given some more responsibility, less parent awareness of where you are every minute of the day, and you can do stuff like drive and stay out late and what not. Then there's college where you are totally free to go ape-shit and do whatever you feel like whenever you feel like. Class today? Nah. Eat crappy food at 4 in the morning because your piss drunk and have nothing better to do, sure, why not? It's a matter of living in the moment, deciding what sounds good then for you and for no one else. You just do what you can do to pass your classes, and suck up every other free ounce of time to laugh, live, and make serious life altering mistakes that you'll regret for years to come. And by the time you realize you've nearly screwed yourself, you're outta college and you're wearing skirts and heels and dress pants and you're wondering how the hell is happened and what you are supposed to do. You have money, but no time or freedom to spend it, so you're careless and you overdraft on numerous occasions. You think it's weird that your friends parents now talk to you about work and "the man" and other boring shit you never cared to hear about before but now you somewhat understand so you continue the conversation rather than try to divert like you may have in the past. And you do stuff like write reports, and send memos, and have a book of stamps. And it's all supposed to make sense somehow.
Like who put these dress shoes on me and told me I could have a job? Were they crazy. I have no idea what I am doing. All i want is nap time, snack time, and play time. The rest to me sees irrelevant and trivial, yet, I have no choice but to spent 1/3 of my day working, and wearing clothes I hate, and talking to people in a "professional tone" like I really know what I am doing.
And the worst part of it all, is that now I am getting wedding invitations. So now, I have to wear the same boring dressy shit that I wear to work to my friends wedding and drink wine and have intellectual conversations with people. I liked it much better when I could hide out in the limo and play Nintendo and only come out for cheese and crackers and a noogie from my cousin, and then disappear for the rest of the afternoon down in the creek totally ruining my dress and getting yelled at by my mother for it later, but laughing so hard at the fact that it's only ruined because I tripped while trying to push my best friend in the water.
On that note, I'm going to crawl under my desk, grab a cup of milk, and take a nap in the hopes that nobody notices that I'm really just an impostor, in my mom's clothes, trying not to pretend like I wish I was a little girl again.
Every day, I wake up and think "I wonder what would happen if I just didn't go in to work today." and I contemplate where I could move to and how I could escape this pretend thing I have. My eyes water from staring at the computer screen, my wrists hurt from typing too much, my brain shuts down at three for various reasons, and I wonder how long this is going to last me. And when in the world is someone going to call me out on this whole ordeal? I know everyone thinks it. As they drive by me at noon in their cars they've got to be wondering what I am doing here. How I am surviving. Who I am.
I look at other girls my age and I laugh at them. Their clothes are from Target and Cheap Mall stores. Their pants aren't tailored and they don't have three pleats in the front. I know they wear their heels to the bars on Friday, and their skirts are borrowed from their mothers closets (as mine are). It's hysterical really. How this whole grown up thing happened.
I mean, it started out in elementary school, you're taken from your parents and thrown into a land of learning, and recess. You do what you do and you're little. Then there's that whole awkward three years of middle school where who knows what the fuck you are. Then high school where you're given some more responsibility, less parent awareness of where you are every minute of the day, and you can do stuff like drive and stay out late and what not. Then there's college where you are totally free to go ape-shit and do whatever you feel like whenever you feel like. Class today? Nah. Eat crappy food at 4 in the morning because your piss drunk and have nothing better to do, sure, why not? It's a matter of living in the moment, deciding what sounds good then for you and for no one else. You just do what you can do to pass your classes, and suck up every other free ounce of time to laugh, live, and make serious life altering mistakes that you'll regret for years to come. And by the time you realize you've nearly screwed yourself, you're outta college and you're wearing skirts and heels and dress pants and you're wondering how the hell is happened and what you are supposed to do. You have money, but no time or freedom to spend it, so you're careless and you overdraft on numerous occasions. You think it's weird that your friends parents now talk to you about work and "the man" and other boring shit you never cared to hear about before but now you somewhat understand so you continue the conversation rather than try to divert like you may have in the past. And you do stuff like write reports, and send memos, and have a book of stamps. And it's all supposed to make sense somehow.
Like who put these dress shoes on me and told me I could have a job? Were they crazy. I have no idea what I am doing. All i want is nap time, snack time, and play time. The rest to me sees irrelevant and trivial, yet, I have no choice but to spent 1/3 of my day working, and wearing clothes I hate, and talking to people in a "professional tone" like I really know what I am doing.
And the worst part of it all, is that now I am getting wedding invitations. So now, I have to wear the same boring dressy shit that I wear to work to my friends wedding and drink wine and have intellectual conversations with people. I liked it much better when I could hide out in the limo and play Nintendo and only come out for cheese and crackers and a noogie from my cousin, and then disappear for the rest of the afternoon down in the creek totally ruining my dress and getting yelled at by my mother for it later, but laughing so hard at the fact that it's only ruined because I tripped while trying to push my best friend in the water.
On that note, I'm going to crawl under my desk, grab a cup of milk, and take a nap in the hopes that nobody notices that I'm really just an impostor, in my mom's clothes, trying not to pretend like I wish I was a little girl again.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Love - or something like it
I'm starting to wonder if I am doing this dating thing all wrong...I think that I have to be around the guy 24/7 and want to think about him and pine over him and consume myself with him. I never stopped to think that maybe some distance was/is healthy.
I fear I have adopted the senses of America. MORE MORE MORE. NOW NOW NOW. MINE MINE MINE. I think I have approached dating, boys, love, etc. in the same way, and it's lead me down a path that's gotten me little or nothing, when I thought I was getting everything. I have over consumed to the point that I am so full I'm sick. I have not approached a relationship with the right balance and attitude. I have wanted a texting-non-stop-talk-to-me-all-day-see-me-all-night-never-leave-my-side-can't-live-without-you-never-ending-over-bearing kinda thing. I really gotta stop that.
It's only lead me to be in relationships that were kinda like love, but nothing that was healthy, good, or built on a firm foundation. It makes me wonder if I only allowed for it to be so bad that like an explosion, it'd be really big and beautiful, and then die down before anyone ever really had a chance to know what was going on. Was that my way of distancing? Was that my way of living my life on the edge? Is that how I kept myself entertained? Did I not live a life of mediocrity because I thought passion was what I needed?
I asked a friend a very good question the other day. I said, "Aren't you bored being with your boyfriend now?" She had previously been with a raging addict, was never good enough for her parents, and all other sorts of screwy stuff. She is now in a healthy, sweet, loving, kind, giving, and amazing relationship. They seem happy and content, and in my eyes-BORED. She told me at first she tried to pick fights and tried to ruffle things up, but then she learned what she was doing and she knew that only she could change it. Now, she said, she has a sense of calm and peace in her life that she never had before. She's happy. She says she remembers what it was like to be in that horrible hell of a relationship, but even though she may have been living an exciting, passionate, crazy life...there was something that was never truly satisfying about it.
So it makes me wonder. What have I truly done wrong? What can I do now? What shouldn't I do? And how can I not buckle to unhealthiness again....
I fear I have adopted the senses of America. MORE MORE MORE. NOW NOW NOW. MINE MINE MINE. I think I have approached dating, boys, love, etc. in the same way, and it's lead me down a path that's gotten me little or nothing, when I thought I was getting everything. I have over consumed to the point that I am so full I'm sick. I have not approached a relationship with the right balance and attitude. I have wanted a texting-non-stop-talk-to-me-all-day-see-me-all-night-never-leave-my-side-can't-live-without-you-never-ending-over-bearing kinda thing. I really gotta stop that.
It's only lead me to be in relationships that were kinda like love, but nothing that was healthy, good, or built on a firm foundation. It makes me wonder if I only allowed for it to be so bad that like an explosion, it'd be really big and beautiful, and then die down before anyone ever really had a chance to know what was going on. Was that my way of distancing? Was that my way of living my life on the edge? Is that how I kept myself entertained? Did I not live a life of mediocrity because I thought passion was what I needed?
I asked a friend a very good question the other day. I said, "Aren't you bored being with your boyfriend now?" She had previously been with a raging addict, was never good enough for her parents, and all other sorts of screwy stuff. She is now in a healthy, sweet, loving, kind, giving, and amazing relationship. They seem happy and content, and in my eyes-BORED. She told me at first she tried to pick fights and tried to ruffle things up, but then she learned what she was doing and she knew that only she could change it. Now, she said, she has a sense of calm and peace in her life that she never had before. She's happy. She says she remembers what it was like to be in that horrible hell of a relationship, but even though she may have been living an exciting, passionate, crazy life...there was something that was never truly satisfying about it.
So it makes me wonder. What have I truly done wrong? What can I do now? What shouldn't I do? And how can I not buckle to unhealthiness again....
Thursday, August 28, 2008
I love My Vagina (inspired by the Vagina Monologues)
"I Love My Vagina"
Well...I think I love my vagina. I don't know.I mean. I guess I do. How does one love their vagina? Or own their vagina?... I know what i do love...and that is my sexuality and i love the power that comes with having a vagina. I know that's contrary to what we've been talking about in this class...but in my life my vagina has given me power. Power of all different kind... You know how much free shit i've gotten with my vagina? A lot. You know. Haven't you ever gotten free shit for yours? If you haven't you're not using it right!
I know that I am a woman and because of that I am not supposed to do certain things or say certain things or act in certain ways or write certain...but it doesnt matter to me or my vagina what i'm supposed to do or not do.
My vagina likes sex. My vagina likes to be left alone. My vagina does not get turned on when a guy shoves his knee up there when we're making out...use your fucking hand you idiot. My vagina is pretty freakin' sweet. It's a smart vagina and a talented vagina...a talented vagina that i leave at home when i go to church for fear of it screaming out during service "I HAVE SINNED!"
she thinks five minutes isn't long enough for anything.
she thinks its rude if you stop by for a visit and leave a mess.
she likes attention. of any kind.
again...she hates knees (and yes it really happens)
she loves boy shorts. they're comfy.
My vagina has been out way past curfew and asks you not to tell my dad. We wouldn't want to break his heart...
Well...I think I love my vagina. I don't know.I mean. I guess I do. How does one love their vagina? Or own their vagina?... I know what i do love...and that is my sexuality and i love the power that comes with having a vagina. I know that's contrary to what we've been talking about in this class...but in my life my vagina has given me power. Power of all different kind... You know how much free shit i've gotten with my vagina? A lot. You know. Haven't you ever gotten free shit for yours? If you haven't you're not using it right!
I know that I am a woman and because of that I am not supposed to do certain things or say certain things or act in certain ways or write certain...but it doesnt matter to me or my vagina what i'm supposed to do or not do.
My vagina likes sex. My vagina likes to be left alone. My vagina does not get turned on when a guy shoves his knee up there when we're making out...use your fucking hand you idiot. My vagina is pretty freakin' sweet. It's a smart vagina and a talented vagina...a talented vagina that i leave at home when i go to church for fear of it screaming out during service "I HAVE SINNED!"
she thinks five minutes isn't long enough for anything.
she thinks its rude if you stop by for a visit and leave a mess.
she likes attention. of any kind.
again...she hates knees (and yes it really happens)
she loves boy shorts. they're comfy.
My vagina has been out way past curfew and asks you not to tell my dad. We wouldn't want to break his heart...
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