My name is Harvey Milk and I'm here to recruit you!

I started my day by going to see yet another matinee alone.
The film was beautiful and captivating.
It filled me up to my brim with hope and optimism.

I saw a old man walking in the cold, pushing a cart
with his oxygen tank. He slipped on some ice
and I cried. My dad then proceeded to make things
worse by adding, "Well, if your car wasn't such a mess,
we could have given him a ride."

Some of my most cherished moments are
those I spend talking with my 90 year old grandmother.
It is within those moments that I feel secure about the choices
I make and the life I hope to have.
She is amazing.

I'm going to Texas in March.
I am not that excited.
My twelve year old sister is "gifted"
and recently accepted Jesus Christ as her savior.
My grandmother will tell me how I will most likely end up like my mother.
She will also disapprove of my weight.
Don't get me wrong. I am happy to see them both.
I'm just not ready to feel inadequate any more than I already do.
But I suppose it will be nice to leave Michigan.

I've been driving too much lately.
I've been doing a lot of favors lately.

I might be suffering from a sexual identity crisis.

The only things that would cheer me up
would be a chocolate milkshake, a kiss and
a jew fro. Mainly the jew fro.

copyright.

People insist that I am a free spirit
but there's nothing really free about me.

+I am learning and discovering too much, too fast
+I have the sudden desire to sing various tv theme songs, including:
Facts of Life, Charles in Charge, Laverne & Shirley and The Patty Duke Show
+While at work (8pm-4am) I was fortunate enough to listen to New Kids on the Block (step by step, anyone?) and Jock Jams. Needless to say, it was amazing.
+ I've been saying "Sike!" way too much lately.
+You know when a subtle, discrete smile creeps up onto your face for reasons unknown to you?
I love that feeling.
+I've run out of good advice to give myself.

I was a fish once. Don't you remember?

"It is an insignificant moment. The moment you realize the place you grew up has nothing left to offer you. The moment strikes when you see a girl who attended your high school, frantically busing tables. Or when you see a shopping cart miles from it's designated grocery store. Or when a solitary sparrow picks at stones, mistaking them for crumbs. Or when the traffic lights resort to blinking a unified amber through the night. Sometimes it's even smaller than that. Sometimes all you have to do is wake up. That was my moment. It was insignificant."

Godspeed.

I woke up this morning and went to a matinee alone. The movies are a completely different experience when you go by yourself. The movie I saw was about being trapped in a life you never asked for. Although it was not what I had hoped, it still successfully filled my mind
with aggressive and worried thoughts.

The better part of my afternoon/evening has been spent almost entirely on saving the life of one particular, ungrateful fish. He truly has no idea the aggravation I have gone through to make sure his life is more than satisfactory.

I went to the store and I've never felt so small. My shopping cart contained a bottle of soda, a fish aquarium and a birthday card. But I wanted to desperately look into my cart and see things that would surely be evidence to passing strangers of a content and fulfilled life.
Ingredients of something other than indifference, perhaps.

The Jenny Lewis comparisons are never ending.
Never. Ending.

I'm twenty years old.
This is the best I'll ever be.
Isn't that frightening?

I need to be reinvented.

Love me (bar) tender, love me true.

I ate a Big Mac meal and went to a bar with friends. Good, honest, genuine, friends. Pineapple upside down cake in alcoholic beverage form, as well as a plethora of technicolor liquids in shot glasses both attributed to my inebriation.
My lips tasted of vanilla vodka.
I received useful advice from various 30 somethings.
I realized that when I'm intoxicated I tend to dance as though I'm straight out of a Jane Austen novel. I made several errors in thought and action, but have since come to terms with my inability to detach myself from meaningless pursuits.

Showering is surely an underrated activity.

I enjoy living next to a major airbase.
I can always count on the vibrations.
And I can always count on the white noise
to save me from this noise.

I am in desperate need of a better vocabulary.

I am doing my best to bend instead of break.

(if you listen closely, you can hear everything all of the time)

a small plastic toy horse.

You can accuse me of being many things, but I simply will not accept
the accusation of being an "uninspired person."
My managers think I am uninspired and unhappy
and practically asked me to demote myself, which I refused to do.
Needless to say, I am currently seeking new employment.
I plan on applying at the Hyatt to be a maid.

We went to the gas station last night.
I found the following things on the ground: A hamburger (on which I stepped), a pair of underwear (I believe it was a thong) and a television set. I was extremely enraptured by these random, discarded items and tried to find the connection between the three. It was a lovers quarrel. It is always a lovers quarrel.

I really should not read several horoscopes at once.
It's confusing. Especially when they contradict each other.
How on Earth am I supposed to know how to live my life day to day
without a structured prediction of daily outcomes?
How?!

I am most likely going to see three movies by myself tomorrow.

I live a very quiet life.

Great Sexpectations.

There I was. Standing in front of my open picture window,wearing only my underwear, choking on a vanilla tootsie roll (seriously. I was close to death), watching history unfold as our new president was sworn in. It was an uplifting moment. Well, aside from my half-naked choking fit.

Don't you hate when strangers say "hi" to you, when you know they are saying it as some subdued sexual advance? Yeah. I'm pretty sure the guy was either mentally handicapped or a pedophile (not to compare the two) Either way, I'm oddly flattered that anyone in either of those two categories noticed me.

If you listen closely, I noticed, you can hear the snow melt.
Shhh. Listen!
It's a magical sound.

I constantly feel like I'm waiting for people to come to their senses.

I accidentally said "I love you."
I was just curious.

Where did my day disappear to?
Found it.
It was between the couch cushion, next to a bobby pin and some loose change.

am I making sense?

My mother called with a familiar urgency in her voice.
She and her boyfriend were busted for pot last night.
Handcuffs and all.
The police confiscated $350 of bagged product ready to be sold,
some papers, some bongs, a straw and a razor.
The police wanted "the big fish"

Why is it so hard for me to be happy for people I love?

My eyes are always at half mast.

Although the snow has become nothing but a complete annoyance to me this winter, I can't help but smile when it snows the way it is at the current moment. Big flakes that accumulate into soft pillows of white, glittering in and out of headlights, falling in slow motion. With beauty like this, it's impossible to be anything other than hopeful.

These feelings are so inconvenient.

too legit to quit.

I went to Linda's last night with some friends/acquaintances.
We were there for hours. I had a discussion with a philosophy major.
We came to the conclusion that I am sexually repressed.
I cannot express the relief that came with realizing a term for this...hopeless condition.

In addition to last nights riveting conversations, we were subjected to countless jokes about pedophilia, all of which were hysterical.

(I realize that talking about my sexual repression and then praising pedophilia jokes you could easily misjudge my character. Which, in all honesty, I can not blame you for)

Last night I finally was faced with the fact that I am not, in any way, intellectual.

I have many different voices and I can't look people in the eyes.
I am severely repressed.

I am young, but not for long

My step mother: You know, he's not a kid anymore, partying at Club 52.
Me: You mean, Studio 54?
My step mother: Yeah, whatever.

I feel like I'm on autopilot, running on empty.

I am convinced that the guy at my gas station
(the one I frequent almost daily. they all call me "red".)
is completely in love with me.
But he would never suggest anything.
It's all sort of sad, in a way.

One of my managers said I would love L.A.
This both offends and fascinates me.

My other manager says I'm a hippie.

I don't know where I belong or what I am,
but maybe someone else knows what I don't.

I've been slaving away on my ink drawings.
Granted, they are just lines, upon lines, within lines.
But I'm so happy when I'm drawing them.
Everything is linear even when it's not.

It's funny how situations and feelings erase themselves.
Everything is at the start...again.

I hate seeing people heartbroken.
It is completely disheartening.

A flamboyant employee of the Salvation Army told me my red hair is beautiful and that I could be, without a doubt, a fabulous model. If anything, his sincerity was admirable.

I listen to '50's love songs.

I am not a pessimist.

I just want to be happy and free.

My peace of mind was disrupted by a momentary reminder.
My heart revisited a panicked pace.
I fell asleep draped in impermanent moonlight.

My stepmother: You should start wearing make-up again.
Me: Why?
My stepmother: Because you're prettier with it.


Sleep is the only thing I truly enjoy these days.
Sleeping past the double digits of the am into the single digits of the pm is so comforting.

Sonic was totally worth the wait.
I went again last night with kelly.
It was happiest I have felt in a long time.
Popcorn chicken?
Hell yes.

I met Alicia and Nick for lunch yesterday.
I knew things would resume just as they were a few months ago.
It remains to be a sore spot.

I think I'm moving to Seattle.

four kicks.

I think I love my simple, solitary life.

I am home alone, listening to The Grateful Dead, gathering quarters for the manual car wash,
contemplating a $10 hair cut, thinking only of the choices I will soon have to make.

I have six days off of work. I'm not sure I'll be able to love my solitary life as I do right now.
I doubt I'll remain content with my restless mind for six whole days. But I'll make the best of it.
If I had more money, I would go to Chicago or New York for a few days. But it looks as though Michigan is all I've got. For now, anyway.

Things are moving in a strange rotation.

I find that people have been feeling noticeably more sorry for me lately.

I can't wait for the day when I can say "we" and "us"


A Sonic just opened ten minutes from my house.
It had an 1 hour 45 minute wait.
I went to Burger King instead.
The space between my thighs is the best cup holder.

aha shake heartbreak

The long awaited new year has come to stay.
Well, for now anyway.

I did not welcome 2009 in the way I had wanted to.
There I was, standing amongst a group of intoxicated strangers (myself very heavily included),
being sprayed with champagne, counting down to a new beginning. It was a tragic way to spend a new years eve. I'm sure that if people would have seen me,carelessly emptying beer bottles into my mouth preparing to empty another, plopping down on dirty couches to talk to uninterested strangers, falling on my knees in attempt to have someone light a cigarette and pretending I had a gun during Paper Planes and shooting, missing every single target, people would surely feel sorry for this inebriated, sloppy girl.

Little did I know that when we left the fraternity, the remains of the day were to hold
nothing but headaches and vomiting....lots of vomiting. By the time we left and settled into our designated sleeping spots, I had 3 hours until I had to be awake and to work. I did not think twice of how I would feel, only of how tired I would surely be.

I went to work after sitting in the parking lot for 20 minutes, delicately sipping McDonalds orange juice while inhaling a egg McMuffin. This would be all I would eat the entire day.
Once I got into work, I joked about my night and about being completely hungover without sleep. My oldest manager (I call her grandma behind her back) did not approve of my war story.
And when I jokingly said that my life was nothing but a long series of mistakes, she found this to be sad. Because apparently she didn't see the humor in my self-deprecation.
Fast forward to my 30 minute break where I spent almost the entire 30 minutes vomiting into
the work toilet. I'm pretty sure I vomited out of my nose, which left the scent of vomit lingering with me the entire day, which in turn made me want to vomit more. So I did.
The greatest part of the day was knowing that I did absolutely nothing and got paid time and a half. That's what you get, job! You drive a girl to drink, you get what you ask for!!!!

When I came home, I slept. And slept. And slept. Woke up, drank some soda, vomited. Slept.
Slept through the entire night. And here I am. I feel alive for the first time. Today is the start. I'm going to do my best to look beyond the fact that the past week or so has been a complete disaster and that my feelings went completely unnoticed and are still waiting to be nurtured.
I have always held people in such high esteem and fallen in love with how I think people should be, so when things begin to crack they crumble and I'm the one left disappointed. Well, not any more! Things are going to be different. They aren't going to change, really. But I have the power to make things different. I want to feel alive forever.

I'm going to spend some hard earned money, focus on my art,relish in the sunshine and wait for the world to surprise me.