Rant: 1 of 250,386,789,257

So, here I am, right. Curled up peacefully in my bed, stretching in accordance to the movements in my dreams. But then the sun, the same sun that befriended me so kindly yesterday, wakes me up before my alarm. The first thing I thought of was how bitter I was about having to wake up in such a lonesome condition. The second thing I thought of was how badly I had to pee. The third thing I thought of was how sad it must be to be someone like me, someone who forgets to count her blessings and instead dwells on her "misfortunes" (I have no misfortunes. I've had a great life. I'm fucking alive.) and her inability to accept the inevitability of being alone. The fourth thought that came to mind was something about wanting that work out machine, you know, the one sold by that dude with the creepy ponytail? (I fell asleep to infomercials, or at least that's my excuse. OH! And I really want that 50's music box set sold by Bowzer from Sha Na Na)

AND ANOTHER THING, I went out with friends last night and the focus of our conversation was how to manipulate relationships and peoples perceptions in order to get your point across. Why can't people just fucking say how they feel? Why be vague and mysterious about it? Why would you purposefully confuse and potentially hurt someone you care about all because some unwritten rule in the book of "love" says you must do it in order to "win"? What's so great about winning, anyway?! Can't there be something beautiful to be said for losing once and a while? I mean, when you lose something or someone, you fight even harder. When you win, all you can do is hope to not lose.

I don't like being a third wheel.

I haven't had a period since November.

conclusion of rant.

I cleaned my room. I'm all dressed and ready to go. But instead I'm watching Rock Star with Mark Wahlberg. It's the worst movie.

Chris: Oh, maybe if I get really lucky, I'll get to grow up and listen to Air Supply and wear jack boots.
Joe: What's wrong with Air Supply?
Chris: Nothing, if you're the cop from the Village People.

(In your face ridiculous fictional movie character. In. Your. Face.)

man, was it rough.

Today was surprisingly wonderful, considering I spent my evening rethinking every little detail of my life while chain smoking and crying on my front porch. It must have been quite the sight for anyone driving by. A girl sobbing in a kimono, holding cigarettes with shaking hands. Pretty funny.But upon waking today, I felt so refreshed and rejuvenated. I found the most beautiful spot amongst a development and the mall at which I work. There I found a sunrise. I also found some happiness. I've proudly carried around all day. I'm glad I found it. I just hope someone didn't lose it. Secondhand happiness. Ha.

The sun must be exhausted for shining so much today. I wish I could tell it how much I appreciate all its hard work. I'd give it a big ol' hug if it were humanly possible.

I wrote a few lines for a few poems at work. I made up a few lines of dialogue between lovers. I had a good line about a ghost, but I forgot it. I'm always forgetting the good ones.

I paid six dollars for cigarettes today.

My bottom lip is bleeding a little.

I'm singing really loud right now. I have to stop denying that I have a deep voice. I should also accept that my voice does not even have the potential to be somewhat tolerable.

Today must be my lucky day or something like that.

I'm going to take what's rightfully mine. Thank you.

Solitaire is the only game in town.

I smell like a boy and his dog.

Last night was completely unplanned and unexpected. I spent the night in a strange bed. It was the first time I had to tell my parents that I wasn't coming home. A rite of passage of sorts. The dog was jealous and we were restless. And although I shared a bed with someone else, I never actually fell asleep. I left for work around 7:30am.
I have been awake (and wearing the same clothes) for 35 hours.

Currently I am irresponsibly denying my body of sleep. I need a shower, but am afraid that I may fall asleep and die. Actually, that wouldn't be the worst possible outcome. That's how I feel right now.

A girl I work with told me something that her grandmother told her. I quite liked it. "It's not a matter of simply living with something that makes it important, it's what you can't live without"

You know how you're usually excited and eager to see how something ends? Well, I can't say that I am. I can only imagine the disappointment that lies ahead. Cover my eyes, please. I cannot bare to look. I just know I won't survive the crash.

I never realized what a mean and shallow person I was and continue to be. I'm trying to be better. I promise.

Saturday Night Fever is a ridiculous movie.

let's build ourselves a fire.

So here I am. Listening to "For Once in my Life" by Tony Bennett. I feel uplifted by possibility. But at the same time I'm immobilized with it. It's a funny feeling. Damn you, Bennett, DAMN YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yesterday I decided to get my hair cut.Although many people urged me not to, I knew I must because my hair was dead. Dead, I tell you! I went to a salon with friends. I told the stylist what I wanted (convoluted celebrity comparisons) and voila! Here I am. Loving the subtle change.

The boy working at the drugstore told me that I was "ridiculously pretty." I could feel myself blush and smile simultaneously.

I'm starting to think that people are interested in certain parts of me and disregard the other parts. Why can't people like all of me? Why can't people close their eyes and still think I'm wonderful?

That last statement sounds so horribly self absorbed, but...I don't regret saying it.

I want to start a country folk band.
All of my lyrics will be about how a boy gone and did me wrong.

I had a dream that a boy wrote me a poem. It was the most beautiful poem. And then he drove me to this house by the sea that was left to him. And even though he was broke, he said he would never sell it because that was the house he wanted to start a family with me in. Once I woke up to find that the poem was not in my hand, nor was my other hand embraced in another hand, I was temporarily devastated. But then I realized that perhaps I dreamed it so I could look forward to it.

Oh, this is my favorite part.
"As long as I know I have love,
I can make it."

I'll just wait here a bit longer. But only a bit.

What I feel has come and gone before.

The sun is FINALLY shining and I promise you that I am smiling.

I am a sloppy drunk. I wasn't carded last night and I was encouraged to indulge in such a rare opportunity by everyone around me. So I did. A gin and tonic here, a martini there. I always drink to such excess that I am never able to drive myself home. Yeah. I'm that girl. I slurred my words and sprained my foot. And despite my friends countless attempts to keep my phone out of my reach, it always found it's way carelessly into my hand. When I stumbled on home, my parents put a bucket next to my bed and kept my door open. They checked on me periodically throughout the night. I'm not sure why I feel the need to push myself to such limits, but I assume it must have something to do with my desire to lose control. Perhaps it is attributed, also, to my hunger to be completely uninhibited and honest. I know now that this gets me into trouble.

I don't think what people understand about me is that I am a complete and utter runt. At first glance everything seems alright, but when they look closer they don't want me anymore. I'm the kitten huddled in the corner of the "Free Kittens" box. It's okay. I understand your reservations.

Compliments are lovely, but they sure are exhausting. I am just really tired of pretending to believe them.

I have been given a possible opportunity that could easily change my life. But I can't jinx it. It seems too good to ever be true. If this chance does flourish, then perhaps everything will fall into place.

I want to be the next Karen Carpenter.

Baby, I'm on Texas time.

Because I think that a day to day summary of my time spent in Texas would not only be exhausting, but rather mundane, I will share my silly notes I took about observations I made and thoughts I had.

Anna (flight attendant): "We do what we have to do, honey."

All older men in Texas look like potential (and in some cases, guilty) child rapists.

"The moment I realized I was in trouble was the same moment I knew that I was safe."

Adjusting the volume, I crouched beside the clock radio, delicately turning the dial hoping to hear a whisper from home."

Texas is alone.

I heard Dolly Parton on the radio. The man conducting the interview asked her about the upkeep of her acrylic nails. She giggled and gave a southern answer.

It was either Peter Gabriel or Phil Collins. I could never tell the difference.

I walked past someone smoking a cigarette. My knees buckled and I'm pretty sure I came.

Main topic of discussion when out to "brunch" with a "mom"? Childrens food allergies.

"Although I remain untouched and oblivious to the pleasures of sex, the rapture that seizes my body at the sight (and smell-oh, the smell!) of vintage clothing and antique furniture is undoubtedly the greatest feeling I've ever known. Perhaps I don't need the companionship of a man. Maybe I just need to live in the past forever, where my future holds nothing but second chances."

Gay Asian=Gasian

The music box on the mantle plays Aidel Weiss. For some reason it reminds me of my childhood.

Is it wrong to feel flattered by middle school boys whistling at me through school bus windows?

"You'll have to identify the body. You know her tattoos better than anyone"

Who gave sixth graders that idea that they could sing Broadway show tunes?


In brief summary, I had a wonderful time. I spent my days in a mansion house surrounded by sunshine. I felt out of place, but I was warm.

I will rise up with fists

This past week has been void of both solid sleep and rational thought.

It's funny how things surprise you. It seems as though everything is constantly sneaking up behind me. Sometimes the surprises are exaggerated and enthusiastic disappointments. Other times they are gifts of happiness punctuated with endless exclamation points. I don't know what to think of the surprises this week has so generously forced upon me. All I can do is hope, upon waking, that the day will hold for me an abundance of surprise.

My biggest annoyance at the moment is the impermanence of everything. It's killing me to know that feelings and perceptions can change within minutes. Just for once, can I feel consistently happy for more than a day? And why do I have to find flaws in things/people/situations that make me happy? It's not that I don't have the hunger for change, it is simply that I don't want good things to sabotage themselves because of the temporary nature of...well, life.

I hate having to second guess things. Sincerely.

My manager confessed to me that she has had not one, but two dreams involving her and Brett Michaels. This, of course, made me burst into a fit of laughter. This is why I refuse to quit my job.

I am truly intoxicated with the definition of love and I feel as though I might vomit. I've never learned how to nurture my habits.

I'm over packing for Texas. I leave in the morning. I'm not completely prepared to feel inadequate, nor can I muster the courage to pretend to be less rough around the edges than I really am. But I am thankful for this chance. It'll be nice to not have to work. It'll be nice to see some family. It'll be nice to feel warm for a change.

I have three cigarettes. I need to smoke them wisely.