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.

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 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...

July 9

How do I clear my head WHEN THERE'S SO MUCH i DON'T UNDERSTAND, SO MUCH I COULDNT UNDERSTAND MORE FULLY, SO MUCH PAIN, SO MUCH FEAR. pAIN FROM WHAT i'VE HAD TO GO THROUGH. pAIN OF WHAT I'VE SEEN. fEAR THAT IT WILL ALL COME BACK AGAIN. fEAR THAT ONE DAY i WILL WIND UP BACK IN THAT HORRIBLE DARK PLACE. sO MUCH FEAR THAT i HIDE IN MYSELF. sO MUCH FEAR THAT I DO NOT LET A SINGLE PERSON INTO MY LIFE. nO ONE IS CLOSE TO ME, NOT A SINGLE PERSON. i'VE PUSHED THEM ALL SO FAR AWAY. i'VE PUSHED AND i'VE PUSHED AND i'VE PUSHED. iT'S THESE UNBREAKABLE WALLS THAT i'VE BUILT UP & i'M NOT LETTING A SINGLE PERSON IN.

i FIND THE FLAWS IN EVERYTHING.
i DONT ALLOW MYSELF TO BE OPEN AND AVAILIABLE.
i HIDE.
i CRY ON THE INSIDE, NEVER ON THE OUTSIDE.
i CAN'T FUNCTION.
i HAVE PANIC aTTACKS.
i WANT TO SCREAM.
i WANT TO CRY.
i WANT TO CRY EVERY MINUTE OF EVERY SINGLE DAY OF EVERY SINGLE HOUR.

i WANT TO RIP MY SOUL OUT OF MY BODY AND START OVER.
i WANT TO BE SOMEONE ELSE.
i WANT TO BE SOMEONE ELSE.
i WANT TO BE SOMEWHERE ELSE.
nO i DONT.
i WANT TO BE ME.
bUT NOT IN this life; NOT FACING THESE ISSUES.
i WANT TO TRUST PEOPLE.
i WANT TO NOT FEAR THE WORLD.
i WANT TO NOT WANT TO CRY.
i WANT TO SAY NO.
i WANT TO START OVER.
i WANT TO BE SOMEONE ELSE.
i WANT TO BE SMARTER,
RICHER
FASTER
PRETTIER
SKINNIER.
i WANT TO BE ALL THAT i'M NOT.

i WANT TO BE LESS RECKLESS; I WANT TO BE LESS CAREFUL.
i WANT TO KNOW WHAT I WANT AND WHY I WANT IT.
i WANT TO FORGET WHAT i'VE BEEN THROUGH.
i WANT TO FORGET WHAT i KNOW.
i WANT TO BE LESS AWARE.
hAPPIER.
nIAEVE.
i WANT TO CARRY MYSELF IN A WAY THAT MAKES PEOPLE NOTICE.

i WANT TO JUDGE PEOPLE LESS.
i WANT TO FEEL JUDGED LESS.
i WANT MORE PATIENCE.
i WANT LESS ATTITUDE.
i WANT TO BE MORE COMPASSIONATE.
i WANT TO BE HAPPY.
i DONT WANT TO CRY.
i DONT WANT TO FEEL PANIC.
i DONT WANT TO FEEL LIKE I NEED TO CRY.
i NEED TO CRY.
i DONT WANT TO.
i WANT TO BE SOMEONE ELSE, SOMEWHERE ELSE.
i WANT TO FORGET.
i CANT FORGET.
i'LL NEVER FORGET.

Kiss

I kissed a girl once.
It was nice.
Her lips were soft and sensual
and it made sense why some people are lesbians.

Girls are gentle.
They are nurturing
and sweet
and empathetic
and compassionate.
Women do things slowly and carefully
They do things intentionally.

Women know and understand when certain things
are appropriate, and others are not.
They are aware of what's crucial
and what can be overlooked.
Women think before acting.
They are precise and meticulous.
Women know how to fold the corners of wrapping paper.
They know to make soup on a cold day.
Women match socks and fold their underwear.
Women are aware.
Women are kind.

I kissed a girl once,
and it was nice.