stop saying words...

medical bills suck ass

2009-12-20T10:20:00.001-08:00

i wish i could get 100,000 people to give me two bucks...

i want to grow up!

2009-07-29T20:03:00.000-07:00

i don't feel like an adult.
there are so many things that i haven't done, that all my other friends have done. they are all graduating college and buying houses and cars and i'm doing nothing. just sitting around having cancer.
i know the cancer isn't my fault, but the other stuff is. i could have finished college but i was too lazy. i could get a car but i'm too afraid to take the driver's test and get my license, and my credit sucks because i got a credit card and didn't pay the balance.
sometimes i just feel so stupid and immature, i feel bad that zephyr has a mom like me, instead of a mom that is crazy motivated like i need to be in order to get us out of our stupid financial situation.
i've made so many mistakes and i'm trying to fix them, but it's so hard. i feel like my cancer is a wall that is stopping me from making the next step in my life. but that's probably just another excuse for being lazy.
i wish i could grow out of that, but i don't even know how to try.

Rest in Peace, Michael Jackson

2009-06-26T20:27:00.000-07:00

He was hounded, misunderstood, and hated by some in life...not much has changed since his death.

I feel bad for the man because it seems like all he wanted in life was to entertain people. I understand that feeling, and I am so sad that things got so complicated for him while he was pursuing his dream. I can't imagine living my life with so many people watching my every move and turning every misstep into front page news.
We will never know the truth about the accusations made against him, but that doesn't really matter now. The world has lost an immensely talented artist, and even more tragic, three innocent children have lost their father.

I hope he gets the peace in death that he never had in life.

how i spent my 2009 so far AKA catch up time

2009-06-17T20:56:00.000-07:00

january -- quit at walmart. tired of all the crap. tired of not being able to spend time with my son. tired, period.

february --
started what i thought was a really heavy period. put off going to the doctor because i was literally too tired to get dressed and go. after paleness and lightheadedness began, i was persuaded by my fiance to go to my gyno. after a few blood tests, i was told without emergency treatment i would bleed to death. after a D&C, four days in intensive care and a painful bone marrow aspirate, i was diagnosed with leukemia and sent to UAMS in little rock arkansas for monitored inpatient care and chemotherapy.
my family visited me as much as they could, but being away from them, especially my son, was the worst.

march --
after several chemotherapy treatments, i started to experience double vision. i was sent to an eye doctor who told me there was swelling present behind my left eye. around this time i started having really bad headaches.
one night, as i was settling in for the night, i had a stroke and seizure due to excess fluid putting pressure on my brain. they sent me downstairs for a cat scan, and while i was waiting, i had another seizure. they called my family ("just in case") and my fiance came to be with me. later that night, i had another seizure. it takes about two weeks, but i finally regained the use of my right arm, and my speech started to go back to normal.
this is also the month that my hair started falling out and i just decided to shave it and get it over with. my fiance kept his promise and shaved his head with me.

april--
in the beginning of the month, i had surgery to place a shunt in my head to drain the fluid off of my brain. i was initially very hesitant to have the surgery, but once i was told that the next stroke i had could very well be fatal, i decided to just man up and get it done. i was terrified that i would die on the operating table but, obviously, i came out of it fine. i have scars in my scalp that are now covered with hair, and a big on my stomach which fits in nicely with all the stretch marks i got while pregnant.
two days after surgery, i am cleared to go home, after almost two months of living in the cancer ward of UAMS.
this is also the month that my five weeks of chemo started.

may--
didn't do much but go to, and finish up chemo in may. started feeling a little bit better and getting back into the swing of things. then at the end of the month, i was admitted to the hospital again and diagnosed with pulmonary embolism, probably a side effect of being off my feet for so long after surgery. after a few days at my local hospital, i was transferred to UAMS again and spent about a week there. i missed andrew's birthday due to being in the hospital for the second year in a row. i hope i don't miss next year!

june--
so far, june has been the least sucky month of the year. my 23rd birthday (june 15th) passed by without a hitch, and i even got to have not one, but TWO birthday lunches. we have been celebrating all week, because we realize that i am lucky to be alive with all the shit that has happened to me this year. i am still making it through ok, sometimes i get tired and run down but in general, i'm feeling good.

now i'm all caught up with my blog.
feels good to talk about all that crap i went through, a weight has been lifted!

too much time on my hands

2008-11-25T12:53:00.000-08:00

i need to go back to work.
i am not the kind of person who can float through life with nothing to do and not a care in the world.
i need to have my mind engaged, even if it is engaged in something thats boring.
i have to have something to do to keep me from thinking too much about things i don't want to think about at all

when left to my own devices, i think alot about diseases and death. i dont know why.
i haven't always been that way. i remember a couple of years ago, sitting and vegging in front of the tv, i was thinking about shoes. i thought i was crazy then, because i couldn't shake this odd feeling of euphoria i got when i thought of high heeled boots...and i hadn't even bought them yet!

but now, here on maternity leave with a newborn son, all i can think about is how some day i will die and leave him. how one day, Andrew will die and i might be left husbandless. how one day, we'll both be gone and Zeph will technically be an orphan. a sad sixty-ish (i'm letting us live into our eighties in this scenario because that gives us sixty more years on earth...which keeps me from freaking out) orphan.

when i was pregnant with him, my thoughts would drift to diseases more often than death. i hadn't had any successful ultrasounds, had been to late to have the amniotic fluid tested. so, my fear was that he would have all the things that the testing would have revealed him to have, had i been able to have it, only i wouldn't have had any time to adjust to the idea of having a special needs child.
i was afraid he would be born with a problem, and that i wouldn't be able to handle it, and that both of our lives would be ruined.

but that didn't happen. he is perfectly healthy, and so am i, and so is his dad (or rather will be when he stops smoking) and i have nothing to worry about right now.

so why does it seem like i'm trying to kill us all in my mind?
i REALLY need to go back to work. like, tomorrow.

my new best friend

2008-11-23T13:38:00.000-08:00

seriously.

two weeks

2008-11-22T11:42:00.000-08:00

yesterday was Zephyr's two week birthday.
i guess being in the world for two whole weeks had him in a good mood because he seemed to mostly be over the fussy phase he had been in for the past three days.

he slept alot of the day...maybe he feels old already. ha!

i'm going to start planning his "yay i'm a month old!" party now so i don't end up sleeping through it!

date night

2008-11-17T14:05:00.000-08:00

last night my mom agreed to watch Zephyr while we went out for a while.
we went out to dinner, and were going to come home and take a nap before picking him up, but instead we decided to go grocery shopping. grocery shopping on date night? that never used to happen but we're starting to see that if we don't utilize our time correctly we'll never get anything done.
i kind of miss when we used to go out to dinner, talk about what we had done at work or at school (when we were going), then go to a movie, then maybe go for drinks before making out in his car. lol
but that was before we moved in together, got engaged, and had the baby. it seems like an entire lifetime ago. we're no longer single, childless people. now we are parents so, our date night went like this:
- dropped off the baby
- talked about the baby on the way to dinner
- ate dinner really fast because we were starving (its really hard to fix something to eat while trying to keep a baby from crying, so by 5pm we still hadnt eaten anything even though we got up at around 10am)
- talked about how much we missed the baby on the way back from dinner
- went grocery shopping
- put up groceries and hung out for 15 minutes
- picked up the baby
- spent most of the night trying to get the baby to sleep

i did get a few good night kisses, so i guess the evening wasn't a total bust.
*sigh*
i feel like a mom now!

(Andrew unwinding with "The Hunt for Red October" after our hot date. Zephyr is tired from visiting his Mimi's house)

a week and a day!

2008-11-15T17:04:00.000-08:00

Zeph has been with us for a week and a day, oh man!
Not that I expected him to go anywhere, but well...I'm paranoid and so everyday that he wakes up in one piece is really exciting for me!

We weren't able to have a week old party because he was sleeping, but we were excited and in high spirits that whole day. So if he ever asks when he's older, well say we celebrated in our minds while he celebrated in his bassinet.

Gearhart Zephyr Stover

2008-11-13T10:29:00.000-08:00

My adorable son, Gearhart Zephyr Stover, was born on November 7th, 2008 at 11:04pm by C-section. He weighed in at 7 pounds, 10 ounces and was 19.5 inches long (tall?)
He had brightish red hair when he was born, but has since settled into an auburn blonde like Andrew's.
We spent a few days in the hospital resting before coming home Monday evening, where we are still mostly resting and taking it easy. He sleeps well for me, but has a bad habit in keeping his daddy up all night. Male bonding, I suppose.

In any case, he is the most perfect human being I've ever encountered, and I'm loving every moment of being his mom!

yo california, what the hell dude?

2008-11-05T22:41:00.000-08:00

even though i was unable to vote this year (looooooooong story) i'm pretty jazzed about how things turned out. i was definitely pulling for Obama...what a history making election this has turned out to be!

BUT
(this might make me sound like way too much of a liberal and if it does i don't give a crap) there is something that really bothers me about how prop 8 turned out.
all i have to say is:

California wants to claim "progressive" status at every turn so they helped elect a black man into the office of president, but gays can't get married?

seriously, if we're going to break down barriers let's go big or go home.
what is so wrong with people who love each other getting married? if i get to do it, why can't my mom and her girlfriend do it? why can't my gay friends do it? it just makes me so sad because i know alot of people were counting on having the opportunity to marry their partners finally.
i thought everyone was supposed to be equal in this country, but apparently that excludes homosexuals.

SOMETHING IS NOT RIGHT HERE!!!
what the fuck California?
i'm not sure if i miss you so much now.

*end rant*

almost there and other short stories

2008-10-31T09:19:00.000-07:00

almost there
so today i realized that it's about ten days until my expected due date.
i was going to go on leave tomorrow, but my boss managed to guilt trip me into staying another week. there's no real reason why i can't or shouldn't so things should be fine, although i have an odd feeling that i may go into labor at walmart...which will officially make me the most white trash person i know. unmarried, pregnant and working at walmart. not where i thought i'd be at 22 but i'm sure i'll get to where i'm headed (married college grad and mom with a stable career) eventually.

can't complain but will
things are going well right now, so much so that i am really having a hard time complaining about things.
well, except for my sciatica. and sore back. and knees. and ankles. and the random zit i woke up with this morning despite my well researched and carried out blemish erradiction plan. i'm 22 and i feel like i'm going to have zits my whole life. i did pretty good the past few weeks and now that i'm nearing the end of my pregnancy the little buggers just keep popping up.
they're never that bad and i'm not sure that anyone else notices them, but i do. i had started getting really excited about the prospect of being at the end of my teenager skin days but it seems like i have at least a few more months to go. maybe i should get a second job and devote the wages from said job to maintaining regular visits to the dermatologist. that sounds practical, right?

second mcjobberson
speaking of second jobs, andrew is thinking of getting one, for some reason. i told him he should just find a better first job, but that would just be too easy right?
walmart has been kind of good to both of us but really...we can't wait to find better things and move on. it really sucks working at the only store in town, especially if you're like me and are very nearly a shopaholic. i'm missing all the good deals because by the time my shift is over i can't wait to get away from the store! i wonder if that's a strong enough reason to sue for emotional damages.

all the small things
i don't know if our cat Juno is just big or if baby stuff is just really small, but she is too large for the sling carrier we bought for the baby last night. yes...we test all of our baby items on the cats first. give us a break, we don't have a tv yet.
i guess i never realized how small babies were until i got all the little clothes together in one place and saw that, folded up, 25 or more onesies only took up one shelf out of four.
all the diapers we have been gifted with, on the other hand, take up the other three shelves in that unit, plus two baskets and a couple of bags. i sincerely hope the kid stays in size one and two for a while because we're lacking any sizes higher than that. or...maybe they'll just poo alot. i heard that's what babies are best at!

mcnamersons, part deux
alright, so i know i said we were naming the kid like this:
zephyr rainbow robot, for a boy.
valentine willow moonstone, for a girl.

but...
our families have had really strong reactions to the names, and not in a positive way. while we generally do whatever we please and just figure everyone will settle into the idea later, we have taken their advice for the sake of our child who will eventually have to go to school and deal with the consequences of their name. the new names are:
gerhardt zephyr anderson, for a boy. gerhardt was andrew's grandpa on his mom's side, and he passed away about five (?) years ago. we were a little iffy on naming after family, and only time will tell if my grandpa gets mad that the baby isn't named after him.
alice valentine _______ , for a girl. i really like the name alice because it's simple and pretty, and sounds really good with valentine. i can just imagine her growing up to be a writer and using alice valentine as her pen name. i'm really stuck on two middle names because that's the number i have but we may just stick with one if i don't think of a good second middle name that will flow correctly.

...and that's the news.

andrew = the best ever

2008-10-20T19:42:00.000-07:00

i had another doctor's appointment this morning, very early.
andrew stayed in the car and took a nap because he had to work later in the day, which was ok with me because he's really hell to be around when he hasn't gotten enough sleep.

anyway,
i was telling my doctor about a fainting spell i had at work sunday night which had me clocking out early and going back to the hospital after having just been there saturday afternoon, when he interrupted me by saying he "thought" that i'd be fine and that he "had no idea" why it happened. per usual, he said this while throwing my chart at me and running towards the door.
i guess since andrew wasn't there to intimidate him he felt no need to even pretend to listen to my problems.
this, of course made me upset. i was able to hold myself together until i got out of the building but as soon as i got into the car i burst into tears.

andrew, who had given up trying to sleep and was laying back listening to NPR, freaked out because he thought something was wrong with the baby. after i told him what happened he went from freaked out to completely pissed off. i asked him if he would go in and talk to the doctor for me, perhaps pursuade him to answer some questions i had, or possibly even get the name of a physician who could take care of my needs in his stead.
he was going to go by himself but i decided to go in just in case the doctor decided to take time and answer the questions i had been dwelling on for a week (the largest concern, oddly enough, was how soon after the birth would i be able to come in and have an IUD put in place). after being very kind and charming with the female nurses that seemed to restrict access to the doctor at all times, he was able to get us an exam room and a one on one meeting with the doc.

i just wonder how he does it. how does he get his way without having to resort to physical violence like i do?
he didn't yell at anyone. he didn't make any threats. he didn't have to pretend to be a badass (i say pretend because really, despite appearances, andrew is a very gentle and amiable person who would only fight as an absolute last resort).
he was just very straightforward and unafraid of displaying his concern for me and his child.

he was a "husband". he was a father.
he was seriously sexy in my opinion, and i feel really lucky that i am stuck with him.

but really...
i think he should have punched that doctor in the nads.

oh hai, i'm having a baby SOON

2008-10-19T20:05:00.001-07:00

i am probably going on maternity leave a week early. i was going to take off on the first of november, but my doctors are telling me i'll probably have the baby before then.

i feel completely unprepared.
wish me luck.

late night blippity bloo blah

2008-10-17T23:48:00.000-07:00

i really want to go on maternity leave RIGHT NOW but i have to wait two more weeks.
and i really want to have the baby TOMORROW but i have to wait for that too.
the two things i want the most right now and i can't has. (yes, i'm secretly a lolcat)

it seems like i've been doing alot of waiting lately.
my friend Jen just wrote a blog about waiting, and i think she's definitely better at it than i am. i've always been impatient, no matter what the circumstances. i mean, it isn't just a minor thing to me...when i want something right away it seems like the worst thing ever to happen to me if i can't have it. i'm soooooooo overly dramatic and always have been. i hope i grow out of that so i don't teach my child to be a drama queen.
well, i don't know...it's kind of cute when kids do it. but when someone is in their twenties and has been pulling the drama stuff since they were a kid, it gets a little old.

rawr...i want to have the baby as soon as possible. the longer it's in my body where i can't see it, the more time i spend on wikipedia looking up diseases/disorders and worrying that my child might have them. ALL of them.
and of course their phantom illnesses are my fault and i already feel really guilty for ruining their lives.

maybe i need to block wikipedia.

...and work.
seriously, i would almost be relieved if for some reason they fire me.
i don't know if it's just my hormones talking, or my general lack of sleep or what, but everytime i set foot into that fitting room i get really irritated and immediately want to go back home.
everytime someone asks me a question i want to punch them in the face, or cry.

i really think this pregnancy will be my last.
i can't imagine being this crazy again.

book recommendation from me

2008-10-14T19:02:00.000-07:00

Hello To All That by John Falk.
i will put myself out there and say i thought it was amazing, but not in a very obvious way. and on a personal note, my love for this book is due in large to a few very simple passages in which he describes his feelings during his recurring bouts with depression.
in all of the blog posts and poems i wrote during and immediately after my worst depressions, i was never able to come as close as Falk does to accurately describing how i felt.

anyhoo...
it's the story of a guy who, in an attempt to "cure" himself of his crippling depression gets himself a press pass and takes off to Sarajevo to cover the war.

part of what i liked about it was that i could related to the author and the story in a way that i am not often able to while reading novels.

there are some plot holes, or rather, sketchy explanations that i couldn't quite figure out (like how he got his press pass, for example) but all in all it's a good read that isn't bogged down by overly florid filler.
so, if you're a fan of plain language as a means to tell a grand story, you'll probably like this book.

WORST. DOCTOR. EVER.

2008-09-30T19:34:00.000-07:00

my ob/gyn is the worst doctor i've ever had in my life, and i hate the fact that i'm stuck with him for another six weeks.
i have had doctors that were a bit impersonal, but i figure hey, if that's what they need to do in order to be a good doctor then i'm cool with that. at least they're taking my health seriously and answering all my questions.

my current doctor says the same things to me everytime i come in. and that's IT. most of the time he doesn't even ask me how i'm feeling. he has an established repertoire that goes something like this:
"thanks for waiting. let's check the position of the baby. remember, a piece of fruit a day, lots of veggies. are you on wic? you should sign up if you're not already. ok, see you next time"
then he shoves my documents at me and runs out the door.
the only good thing about him is that he takes medicaid, which is the only reason why i haven't switched/complained.

during the third trimester ultrasound a month or so ago, during which we were supposed to find out the gender of the baby, he seemed to not know how to work the machine. he twiddled around with it, took a grand total of two minutes to roll the instrument around my belly, then said "eh, looks ok. guess it's gonna have to be a surprise though cause i can't see anything"
then he tore off two photos of what appears to be some bones and one that doesn't appear to be anything at all, and left me to clean the goop off my own stomach. i asked the nurse at the counter if they had anymore pictures for me and then said those were the only two he printed off.
i felt so cheated. this is probably the only kid we're going to have and all i get is two ultrasound photos that just look like dandruff on a black shirt.
when we got home, i cried all day.

the visit i had last thursday was a walk in. the baby wasn't moving as much as it should have so i went in like they told me to. the nurse hooked me up to a monitor, explained how the monitor worked (for the hundredth time, just to clarify), asked me how i was doing, joked around with Andrew for a bit and was generally really pleasant to be around.
after 15 minutes the doctor came in and did my group b strep swab and tried to run out. we asked him if he had gotten any results from the hospital in atlanta where i had my first ultrasound/prenatal visit, in order to determine my due date. he said yes, he had recieved everything A MONTH AGO. we have seen him a few times since then and never did he mention that he had any info.
not cool.

my last visit, on monday, i received the news that i was positive for group b strep. not a big deal, but of course i was still concerned and i'm sure i looked it. he had no comforting words for me, nor did he have an explanation for what group b strep was (i already knew from looking it up online, but he didn't know that). i'm beginning to wonder if he even knows.
when he was on his way out, i stopped him to ask him about my sciatica and restless leg syndrome, which got him to sit down for 20 seconds before he basically threw my records at me and dashed out the door, as usual.

Andrew wants to either punch him, or file a complaint with whatever organization handles matters like this. Unfortunately, both will have to wait until the baby is born, and in the meantime i'm stuck with "Doctor Dash-Out"

welcome to walmart grumble

2008-09-20T08:52:00.001-07:00

I'm coming up on my 90 day evaluation at WalMart soon, which means I've actually managed to keep a job for longer than a month. A part (very small) of me is glad to have the experience but the rest of me just really wants to go on maternity leave so I'll have plenty of time to research other jobs in the area.

Andrew had his evaluation yesterday, and was denied a raise because of two absences which were accounted for and for good reason (he had to take me to the hospital due to a few baby related complications).
Is it just me or does that really seem like total bullshit?

It's not that I think they are picking on him, well not JUST him. Lately I've been noticing some changes to the store that are mostly not favorable to employees. They are training everyone in my department, softlines, to be able to get on a cash register in case they are short cashiers and need to pull someone from the floor.
I'm all about being able to multi-task but here's the problem: softlines is on pay level 3, and cashiers are on level 2 and they are not offering us level 2 pay while we're on the registers. So we'll be making the same for doing more work.
Also, they have not been scheduling enough cashiers for the amount of registers they need open because they know they can pull from other departments and not have to pay any extra...

Which makes me think that everyone is going to have enough negatives on their evaluations to be denied a raise whether it is warranted or not because the store just doesn't want to pay out the raise. Which is bullshit, of course but I guess that's just how retail is. It's really hard for me to go in to work everyday knowing that I deserve to be making more money and probably never will unless I go work somewhere else.

I am really looking forward to going back to school. It's going to be rough with a baby and a job and planning a move but in the end it will be worth it to be able to have a career instead of just a dead end job. At least that's what I'm hoping!

For reals this time

2008-09-16T19:34:00.001-07:00

I really feel like I need to start using a blog on a daily basis. I don't have that much time but I think that the more stressful things get the more I need to vent about it. So since I cannot access Myspace on a regular basis due to the college across the street not allowing it...I guess this is the place.

Alot has happened in the almost year since I've posted on here but it's just too much to get into right right now. But now that I've started posting again, I'm sure I'll keep it up.

Not that anyone reads this anyway but hey, it never hurts right?

Right.

To the one who means the whole world to me...

2007-11-13T21:27:00.000-08:00

I'll never know why I didn't tell you...why I let it continue, why I didn't question what was going on around me.
I could have stopped it, I just didn't want to see the truth.
And when it was all over, I just didn't want to talk about it anymore.
Didn't want to bring it up.
Didn't want to make you angry.
Wanted things to be normal for once.

There were other things.
Other things to cry about, I didn't want one more.

Now you know, and I'm glad.
But I'm still so sorry.

Not That Lucky

2007-10-17T22:28:00.000-07:00

*written years ago, remarkably like something that just happened a few weeks ago. life is very cyclical, no?*

"It never tastes the same anywhere else...you know?" Shiloh mused as she stared at her Big Mac. "You know?"
"Yeah...of course."
I would have done anything to get away from her at that moment. She was obviously "toasted" and was laying on the couch in her underwear dropping sesame seeds onto my jacket.
"Billy..."
"Will be here soon. He just went to run a few errands." she said, somewhat gruffly,face full of half chewed beef and sesame seed bun. It was like this every time...I would come by for the stuff, Billy wouldn't be there and Shiloh would be lonely. I'd feel bad, come in and sit while she yammered on about things that I didn't care about, and people I didn't know...and I always wondered to myself: what kind of grown man has a name like Billy? So many thoughts were running through my head as I looked around the familiar apartment. It was almost as if I spent more time there than at my own place, they still had that disgusting wall clock from the seventies that mom had given Shiloh when she married Mark Gray.
Whatever happened to Mark Gray? And how did my sister, who I always thought was alot smarter than me, end up shacking up with someone like Billy? What kind of name is Billy? When is he going to get here?
I looked up from my shoes and tilted my head towards my sister.
How long had I been out? Had I been out, or just not paying attention? She was still talking...talking to me.
"...and then Kelly and Steven got married but only because Kelly was," she patted her stomach lightly, as if she too had something growing inside "you know."
"Yeah well..." I started, feigning interest "that happens sometimes."
The rattle of keys in the door was my saving grace. I wouldn't be there much longer...and I was glad. Shiloh is my sister, and I love her to death, but that apartment creeped me out like nothing else. I guess when you know too much and aren't able to tell anyone else, the paranoia just creeps up on you.
"Hey Shi...how about a little..."
She giggled. "Shut up you pig, Denise is here."
I hated him...more than I hated the apartment, and every time I went crawling back I made myself sick. Why couldn't Billy just tell me that I was wasting my life, in over my head, in need of some help or some other shit like that...coming from the dealer himself it might mean alot more. Even though he was never there there when I came shuffling in for another fix, she was...that's what made me stay long enough to make a mistake. What if I showed up...and he wasn't there, and he never came back? Would I be alright then? It didn't matter, he always came back. He was always ready to make a sale.
I bought alot that day, more than usual, and managed to swallow all of them before I had the chance to chicken out. I can't really say what made me do it...no real reason other than the fact that I was just so tired of using and didn't have time for rehab or detox. I didn't want to be found in the kitchen...I didn't want them thinking I choked on a ham sandwich or something...so I got up from the table and made my way to my bedroom. I made it halfway down the hallway before I started to feel "the effects". A couple seconds later I fell...right on the cat. The last thing I saw before I closed my eyes was her biting and clawing at me, trying to get out from under my seemingly immovable arm. Footsteps...Grady...darkness.
I woke up, sometime later...could have been days later. I still have no idea. I was so upset that I woke up. Why can't it just be over? In my shower, wearing the clothes I had worn to Shiloh's...
Grady was sitting next to the tub with a horrified look on his face that I had never seen before. I felt a little guilty because I knew I had put it there...but it's not like I planned for him to find me.
"Denise..."
"What?" I gurgled, rolling over like a seal pup. "Turn off that water."
He obliged, and grabbed my arm in an attempt to drag me out of the freezing water.
"Leave me alone."
" You're about to get sick," he insisted.
"Don't you think I'd know if I were about to get sick?"
He pulled me up and positioned me just in time for my biggest mistake to be purged.
" Good God Denise...you could have died, what the fuck is the matter with you?" he cried desperately, holding onto me like he thought I might get up and run.
Yeah, I could have died...but I'm not that lucky.

crunch

2007-10-09T11:41:00.000-07:00

a little brown leaf came rushing
flying an invisible plane
kamikaze branch separation anxiety notwithstanding
it flew as fast as it could and crashed
with a light crunchy whisper
on the pavement

all it's comrades will be under my feet in a month
leaving the trees naked as the bluejays that live in them

missing the cashew

2007-10-06T17:10:00.000-07:00

hi.

my name's meg.
and believe it or not, i have some friends.

some of those friends don't have kids yet.
but some of them do.
and i'm really happy for them.

but everytime i see baby pictures of other people's kids it makes me want to puke.
not because the babies are ugly...
i've only seen one ugly baby in my life and that was my brother when he was a newborn.

wooo...he was red, bowlegged, and looked like an 80 year old. not a pretty sight.

but i digress.

it makes me want to puke because i am supposed to have a baby in 7 or so months.
but that's not going to happen because there is no baby anymore.
you know...they say that miscarriages are really common but i find that hard to believe.
this pain i'm feeling, it's something that could only happen to me.
i feel it so completely with my entire body and being that it's hard to believe that anyone
else has ever felt it, or that it's ever going to go away.

but they promise me it's going to go away with time.
i'll never forget it but i'll get some closure, get some peace.
and when i'm ready, and with only moderate medical intervention, i'll be able to get pregnant again.
carry to term.
give birth to a healthy baby.

all of those things i could be doing much sooner if...
well...
if she were still there.
in the womb.
growing. developing. turning into something more than a cashew.
waiting to be born.
waiting to grow up and be a smartass like her parents.

but she's not.
she doesn't exist.
the little cashew that i was sure i was going to be able to love and protect and take care of doesn't exist.
all the plans i made for her, for me, for us...
null and void.
they count for nothing.
they're never going to happen.

i'm trying to come to terms with that. i'm trying to set the idea somewhere outside of my mind and somewhere more managable.
somewhere that doesn't make me cry every hour on the hour, or every five minutes if there happens to be babies anywhere in
my vacinity.
but it's just so hard.

Denny loves America

2007-09-14T17:37:00.001-07:00

Recently, something good happened to me.
I met Denny.

Denny is a 30-something Vietnamese man with cerebral palsy who owns an oriental grocery store a block away from my house. Incidentally, his shop is the only one on the block that has unprotected WiFi. Of course this means I mooch off of him on a daily basis.

"Denny," I said, when I finally learned his name. "Why don't you put a password in so no goods like me won't steal your WiFi?"

He looked at me, with a very peaceful look on his face.

"Because, this is America...and I love America. If I were still in Vietnam, I would be an outcast because of my disability. I would have nothing, be nothing. People say this is a free country and that is the most true thing I've ever heard in my life. I'm contributing to the spirit of America when I share my internet with you."

And then, the biggest smile I had ever seen turned up on his face.

"Besides," he added "if I didn't...how would you check your Myspace?"

I want to be like Denny when I grow up.

walking the walk, unlocking locks

2007-07-16T20:47:00.000-07:00

being lazy and loving food don't go well together, as my increase in dress size has shown me recently. so, i've been taking long walks around my neighborhood whether i want to or not, and believe me i'm leaning more towards not.

it's an ordeal though.
i have to load my mp3 player with songs that i won't get bored of, and then i actually have to leave my computer and haul my fat ass outside. this step alone could take almost an hour. song selection is important you guys!

then, i have to make it down my driveway. doesn't seem like a big deal right? well, considering the fact that i live in the country where leash laws don't apply and everyone and their mom has a farm dog or seven, it's actually the most nerve wracking element of the walks. i KNOW the dogs aren't going to bite me. logic tells me most of them are old and would only advance on me if i were wielding a machete threatening to kill their owners...but i still break out in a cold sweat everytime one of them follows me down the path. i just know they're going to go all Cujo on my ass and rip me to bits.
of course, they don't.

so once i'm down the drive i have two options: keep going or bone out. as scary as those dogs are the thought of exercising really puts me in a mood. i want to be healthy and a little bit smaller but DAMN it's hot out, too many bugs, i'm wearing the wrong shoes, what if i get kidnapped while i'm out there etc etc.
oh yes, i have the best excuses for not going on my walks.

but for some reason i'm able to muster up enough whatever it is and actually do some walking. as i plod along the dirt and gravel paths that make up this neighborhood, swatting kamikaze flies and mosquitos away from my mouth so i don't end up eating them, i pray.
not for peace on earth, good will towards man, sadly.
no, i pray for autopilot.

that mental space i get into after a certain point where i can't hear anything but my music and footsteps, can't tell that i'm sweating, don't notice that my feet are killing me, can't see anything but the path in front of me and the goal i set in my head.

sometimes i wonder if i should turn off the autopilot, if i should suffer through the pain and discomfort like the good little masochist that i am. but then...i realize how good i feel when i'm done. how...new i feel. like i can achieve something, like i DID achieve something. i may have cheated a bit but placing myself in a nearly mechanical state of mind, but i got it done. i figured out the trick.

figuring out just what it takes to get me there, get me anywhere, is amazing. i feel alot like i discovered myself, like i found they key and unlocked the secret of my own mind.
or maybe it's just the adrenaline talking.

the problem with my legacy

2007-07-16T15:56:00.000-07:00

see, the problem i have is that you have to die in order to leave behind a legacy.
the legacy, i'm fine with. people saying or writing nice things about my great accomplishments
is right up my alley. it's the dying that i'm not quite cool with just yet.

sure, everyone has to do it i guess.
i mean, die. everyone has to. i know a few people who have.
some knew it in advance. only one was pissed. i'm gonna be like that guy.

his problem was, i think, that he hadn't done anything yet. nothing particularly notable.
he was married, had two grown sons and had retired not long before learning of his impending
doom.
many people will argue that he had done exactly what he was put on earth to do...marry,
have children, raise said children into adulthood and then, apparently, croak over and die.
and right after his retirement! what a gyp right?
i didn't know him very well so i didn't know his entire life plan but when he died i couldn't
help but wonder if he had done ANY of the things he set out to do. what were the things he didn't
do? did he have a list?

it reminds of me that question that they always have in those stupid myspace surveys, or those
little games you play at cocktail parties that are meant to be fun but in fact are actually
quite morbid. you know those ones. the if you had to lose a limb which would you pick?
if you were on a sinking ship and could only save one of your children which would you let
drown? if you were going to die in a week what would you do/where would you go/who would you bang?
games.
holy mother i hate those.
i never know what to say. i always want to say "i know what i wouldn't do...i wouldn't waste my last
week of life going to stupid cocktail parties that's for damn sure" but i never do because i'm not
that brave.

*sidebar
did you know, that one time i was at a party and we played this game, and one of the women said that
she would spend her last week of life volunteering at an animal shelter. she shouted the question out
to her friend who was in the kitchen making a drink, and the friend shouted back "screw that shit, i'd
spend all week vag deep in a box of vibrators!"
true story.

and then i think of the ones who didn't really have the luxury of knowing in advance that they were
about to shuffle off their mortal coil. luxury...can you even call it that?
the ones that didn't expect it, well...i can't speculate. despite what i may have lead you to
believe in the past i'm not psychic. but i can tell you, had they known exactly where when
and how they would have had some beef with it. i can't imagine anyone being totally comfortable
with the fact that they were going to die. there is no reference point. all the people you know
who have died are still dead. i mean, it's not like a tattoo or something. it's not like you can ask
them if it hurt or not.

i guess what i'm trying to say is...
i have no idea what i'm trying to say.
all i know is that i think about death too often and it freaks me out everytime.

when it comes down to it, i just want to take off my bra

2007-07-15T17:33:00.000-07:00

i'm having those weird body issue problems again. it seems the closer i am to leaving the more i get pushed over the edge emotionally. i'm so stressed out about every little thing, i don't want this trip to be a mistake. i want to go there and STAY there, not have to run home with my tail between my legs.

but when it comes down to it, all i really want to do right now is just take off my bra.

i was watching ANTM and i'm pretty sure none of the models were wearing bras, but being that they were all little and had tiny boobs, none of them really required a bra and that pisses me off.
i think of how much i'd love to just strut around in a tank top, no bra, no nothing. but my boobs are too big, too saggy too...awful. i would never want to inflict them on the world.

but it's all i can think about.
i just want to take off my bra, take off my shirt, pants, underwear and just run free and naked thorugh the world and not give a shit. but i always give a shit. too much of one, and that's why i'm wearing a push up bra. on a sunday. sitting at home. by myself.

maybe i just need someone to take my bra off for me?

insomniatic smatterings part one

2007-07-13T13:10:00.000-07:00

you said you wanted to know what went on in my head...
i didn't mean to laugh so loud, it's just that i know you're too sane to actually want that information.
it's not one of those "if i told you i'd have to kill you" sort of things, more like "if i told you, you'd want to kill yourself".
please, not on my sofa...i just had it steamed.
oh goodness no...not against my wall. that's a faux finish! took me at least five minutes to finish which is longer than my attention span.

what were we talking about?
oh right...my mind.
well honestly i think my seeds are rotten.
yes, seeds. the seeds of my mind.
plant the seeds and watch them grow.

seeds? or was it wings.
plant the seeds.
grow the wings.
seeds.
wings.
wing seeds.
plant the seeds of thought and watch your dreams grow wings and fly.

but that's not what this is about kid.
this is about how i can't sleep.

this is about how the news isn't news and probably isn't even true. walter kronkite my ass...isn't he dead?
paris hilton is newsworthy i suppose, just for the simple fact that i've never seen a bigger skank in my life. that's guiness book material my friend!

did you know she has big feet?
she should use that talent.
bigfootparisstompseggs.com
no that's not already a registered domain, you pervert!

look, i'm not usually belligerent but you have to understand. this is my last chance at stardom kid. this blog...well...it's all i got.
i gave up the stage because i didn't belong on it.
hung up my paintbrush because i saw an elephant on pbs that could paint a better portrait than i could.
i wasn't made for the talkies...my voice is too husky. like a man, but with boobies and other various girl parts.

oh woe is me, it's not easy being insane.
you'll learn.
i'll teach you.

now go eat some wing seeds and get out of my face.

my fingers wrote this and my mind just went along for the ride...

2007-07-02T21:39:00.001-07:00

Hemingway

i feel like every little bit of me
is falling out of linty pockets
pennies from hell, brimstone rockets
screaming out loud
reddish coppery brown
in your hot little hands

all i wanted was a clean well lighted place
but just like Papa i shot off my face
to spite my mouth
to spite myself
and maybe you too...you sonofabitch.

rust

2007-05-29T20:05:00.000-07:00

the drive was brief and dark with the occasional street light blinking furiously as if to justify it's existance. when we arrived, the bridge lay stretched wide and empty in front of us.
empty. not one other car anywhere near the bridge, and as far as i could see there was no one on the other side either.
i remember running on that bridge, away from the fights and the screaming and the hitting. tripping every few steps on my clumsy, scared feet. trying to get away from here, from them, forever.
from my first time seeing that bridge again, in all it's quiet and rusty majesty, i knew i couldn't stay here much longer.
that bridge represented everythig i had always loved, hated and didn't understand about the town itself. it was old and rickety, but no repairs had been made since the 1950's. no one usually crossed it since the newer bridge was built a few blocks down the river, but no one closed the old one or tore it down. it served no purpose other than to usher those few who had never heard of the town's emptiness into their own little oblivion.
almost ten years ago we left this place but i never really forgot it. i wanted to believe that some day i could move back into the simple life, and be happy living in the country with a house full of children and a yard full of dogs. but somewhere, somehow in those ten years i grew out of the simple life and began dreaming big dreams.
i can't be as fabulous as i want to be in a town without a theatre, a cabaret, or even a pub.
why i chose the "showbiz" life, i will never be able to explain.
all i know is that ten years didn't take the painful memories out of this town, or out of my heart, and i shouldn't have to hurt anymore.
so i cross that bridge, now that i've come to it.

the all encompassing pessimism and morbidity of human kind -- or -- a catchy little ditty about death and stuff

2007-05-18T22:15:00.000-07:00

on the way home from bc today, i started thinking about life.
pretty sure it was the last time i'd ever set foot on that campus, and things didn't end well. just like they technically didn't begin well (i wanted to go to cal state instead, since it was closer, and have probably been holding a grudge against bc since last spring) but i guess that's all in the past now.

i was thinking...
maybe that was what i wanted all along.
to be right about things turning out badly.
there are alot of things i've been pessimistic about, i suppose.

but i think we're all like that, in a way.
we all want to hear gossip, tragedy. it's why we watch the news. they never tell us anything good and yet everyday at five, six, seven, eight and eleven we're sitting in front of the television just dying to see who has kicked the bucket and whether or not there was a murder on our side of town that day.

it wasn't a very long trip. and i didn't want to dwell on things, so i started thinking about how cool it would be to have a giant cupcake shaped like a bear. (don't ask)

when i got home, i went back to packing and watching human giant.
at dinner in the living room with my grandpa, we were switching in between cspan and the history channel before we finally stopped on a program about world war two. he seemed excited to see it, which made me think...again.

we view history the same as we view the present and future.
we mentally (and sometimes officially) label decades and eras by what wars occurred in them.
we want to know all about the wars, the plagues, the uprisings.

do we ever think of the people who fought the wars?
or died in the plagues...and better yet, the ones that survived?
or risked their lives in order to rise up against an unsatisfactory political regime, trying to make a better lives for themselves, their families, and their countries.

no.
but we sure as hell want to know how a guillotine works, and whether or not the victim of one would be able to see their own body as their head rolled around on the ground.

or maybe that's just me being morbid.

"you're so nick drake right now"

2007-05-12T15:13:00.000-07:00

someone said this to me, in a dream last night.
who it was that said it, i forget. probably no one i actually know.
probably one of those people you meet in dreams that are there to lead you somewhere that no real person could.
i don't know if this realization makes me feel any better about my life, seeing as how nick drake killed himself at the age of 26...
but i suppose anything you retain after waking up must be something worth remembering, for whatever reason.

the rest of my day has not been filled with similar revelations. makes me wonder if i should just go back to sleep.
today is just one of those days where i think i want to feel everything i should have felt in the last month or so but didn't let myself.
everything is gaining this eerie finality...
people are talking about when i'm leaving and when i'm coming back.

when i say i'm not planning on coming back for any extended period of time, they laugh. they don't believe me.
it's like they don't trust me to make a decision and stick with it. it's like they don't trust me to live my own life.

i can't even get angry.
i'm just so tired, confused, contemplative, distant.
or at least i want to be.
i could be all those things if i wasn't so numb.

i'm trying to enjoy my friends before i leave but really all i want to do is curl up and sleep.
trying not to worry so much about how things are going to turn out and whether or not the decision i made is right.
i don't want to be wrong about this, for a lot of reasons.
this is a very expensive, potentially very emotionally taxing mistake to make if it is indeed a mistake.

but i am worried. as much as i say i'm not, i definitely am.
a part of me thinks i'm fleeing this place when i should be picking myself up by my boot straps and carrying forward, no
matter what being said or done against me.
but another part of me thinks that if you're unhappy, you should go great lengths to make everything better....
because if there is one thing i've learned, time and again, it is that sadness can be very dangerous.

i shouldn't have to keep feeling this way.
i deserve so much more that settling for an existance that i've always been uncomfortable with.
i deserve to be happy and to laugh again...with my entire body, my entire self, my entire soul.

i have tried to feel all day, but all i get is a brain full of words that i'm not sure i connect with.
maybe i'll get some good songs out of this.

i'm going to...

2007-05-11T16:40:00.000-07:00

believe in myself, even if i'm wrong.

i feel better now.

one day at a time...thankfully sans mackenzie phillips

2007-05-04T02:54:00.000-07:00

i have noticed that i feel a little better about life every day. one day at a time...who knew?

i booked my flight this afternoon, and as soon as i clicked "submit" it felt like a two ton weight was lifted off my shoulders. i'm really going. REALLY. i couldn't turn back now even if i wanted to...unless i could immediately pay my grandparents back for the $200 they ended up spending on my tickets which...hi, college student. no way in hell!

sometimes, i have to do this to myself. burn bridges so i can't cross back to where i've already been. it's not such a good idea to do that with people, but i have no problems doing it with locations/situations.
i guess you could say i didn't fully think out this plan, but you know what? like i said before, i can't back down. i have to man up and take whatever consequences come with my decision.
MY decision. that feels really good to say.

i'm moving.
and for once, i'm the one that gets to decide the when, where and how.
it's not because my stepdad lost his job and couldn't afford our rent. it's not because of any of the reasons there were before.
it's because i wanted to change my life, and finally had the guts/balls/brains to do it.

i'm so immensely proud of myself right now.
i love the world and everything feels so good.
and the best part of it is that i know it's gonna feel better tomorrow.
and the next day.
and the next.

it's not vanity, it's reality

2007-04-29T22:56:00.001-07:00

in my quest to be more selfish, i 've been thinking alot about myself.
and i came to realize that my body is always at the forefront of my mind.

i never quite feel satisfied with the way i look, how much i weigh, etc.
maybe if i fixed my body, i would feel better.
from the outside, seeping into the inside.

i know that's not how things are supposed to work, but whether i like it or not
i wil never feel one hundred percent until i lose some weight.

my goal is not to weigh 80 pounds or anything drastic.
if i could just get back to 150 i would feel so much better.
i would look the way i want to. not the way anyone else wants me to.

it's not like i'm huge or anything.
unless you classify weighing over 150 as huge, and then, i'm gigantic.
and by alot of people's standards, i'm fairly attractive.
not supermodelly, but pretty.
and (this may sound vain but...) i agree with them.
i have a nice face.
it's just my body i'm worried about.
and no matter how many times people say that
"oh i love curves"
or
"more cushion for the pushin'"
or whatever they say
i know i won't be happy until i reach a weight and look that is suitable
for me, and my own tastes.

and that's not vanity, it's reality.
MY reality.

you're a queen, sister

2007-04-28T14:45:00.001-07:00

since wednesday, i've been going to therapy.
i know it's only saturday but seriously, i've gone everyday. for two hours.

just talking.
me and my therapist.

my zaftig, Nubian Princess-esque therapist.

our first meeting, i was sitting in the chair tired, dazed and confused.
i always thought it would be easy for me, to just sit there and talk about myself
since that is what i've always wanted to do but instead, i sat there. saying nothing.

so we started with writing.

"write what you feel"

she gave me a pen. so i wrote. and wrote. and kept writing.
i ran out of paper.

she stopped me, and read what i wrote.
as she was reading her eyebrow raised considerably and for whatever reason, i felt like i had
done something wrong. i must have turned red and radiated heat in her direction, because she lifted a
hand to silence me before i had said anything.

"it's good."

i didn't say anything. still silent.
maybe i shouldn't? maybe i could just keep coming here, and listen to her soothing voice and have her
heal me without having to help her.
sit and be healed.

things don't work that way, as it turns out.

"now you need to say it" she said.

"i can't"

"you can't talk? you just did!"

so i muttered, stammered, contradicted, lied, apologized for lying, double talked, looped, weeped, yelled, paced, cussed, smoked and finally...
finally...
after two hours, she said
"there is something i want you to know, young lady"

i stood silent, again feeling like i had done something wrong.

"you're a queen, sister"
and then
"maybe you're too young to be a queen. how does princess sound to you?"

i asked, laughing
"can i be a queen like you when i grow up?"

and she said
"you can be whatever you want to be, whenever you want to be. didn't anyone ever tell you that?"

i shook my head no. they hadn't. no one had.

"well...now you know."

Alec Baldwin and I should have babies

2007-04-25T14:34:00.000-07:00

Today I was in the living room watching TV, when my grandma came in hemming and hawing about something or other. Usually I don't ask but she was being so vocal about it that it was getting on my nerves.

"What exactly is your problem?" I inquired.

She put her hand on her hip and said "I'm so over this Alec Baldwin thing. What did he say that was so bad?"

And for the first time ever in my life, I agreed with her.

Maybe it's just the way I was raised, but the whole "tirade" seemed pretty tame to me. It's not like he threatened to beat the shit out of the kid, all he said was that she needed to be straightened out.
In my experience, this is true for alot of kids...I can only imagine how it would be for a kid going through the drama of having Kim Basinger and Alec Baldwin as parents. Poor kid probably never has peace and quiet BUT that's not an excuse to act out.

When I was living with my mom, brother and stepdad in a one room apartment with hardly any food you bet your ass I wanted to lip off, lash out, and just generally tear everything and everyone to bits.
But did i? No.
Why?
Because I would have gotten my ass handed to me, that's why.

Sometimes I think that spanking and speaking harshly to your children isn't such a good thing, but you have to prepare them for what they are going to encounter in the real world.
Yes, that's where we live people. The real world. This isn't Candyland and there aren't unicorns prancing around my apartment as I type this.

Kids these days, have a sense of entitlement that is, in my opinion, disgusting. They expect things to be handed to them. They expect to be rewarded whether their behavior warrants a reward or not.
Maybe if more people took an old school approach to raising their kids, we wouldn't have so many foul mouthed, rude little punks running around making life miserable for everyone around them, including their parents.
There are things called discipline and respect. Better to learn it sooner than later.

Moral of the story:
You go boy! *three snaps in z formation
You show that daughter of yours what a good old fashioned Irish/Catholic upbringing is all about!

And before you say anything...no I do not advocate beating your kids. Spanking and beating are two different things. Don't even get me started on that!

Hi, my best friend is moving and it's making me feel like I'm ten.

2007-03-05T02:26:00.000-08:00

My best friend is moving in a month or so and I am terrified that I won't be able to function without him. I'm terrified of being alone. This is like fourth grade all over again.

Before I go any further, let me graph this out for you:
He is moving to Georgia, which is literally ALL THE WAY on the other freakin' side of the country. Without me. I tried to talk him into taking me because I'm a pretty good tag along, but it's just one of those things he has to do by himself. A rite of passage. Blah blah bah. It's a man thing I guess, because I can't imagine going all that way by myself...just me and my stuff in a car.
He tells me this, and I am fine. Pissed that I have to stay in Bakersfield but generally understanding the choice he made since I know how he is. Trust me, I know all about those "I don't know why I have to do it that way but I just HAVE to" things. I definitely understand.

What I don't understand, however, is why I felt the need to go into the dramatics of "I'll never see you again! You hate me don't you? You're just trying to get rid of me! You can't claim the entire state of Georgia...I will move there if I want to!!!"
How could I say all that out loud when I know that's not what I was thinking? How could I accuse him of hating me when I know how close we are? And without crying? I swear I don't know myself sometimes.

Being the person that he is though, he was ready for it and assured me he didn't hate me, in fact he's quite fond of me and he hopes I DO at some point move to Georgia so we can hang out like we do now.

And then he said:
"I guess we're just very different kinds of people. You're emotional and needy, and I'm emotionally retarded."

THAT'S when I started crying.
"HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT?! I'M NOT NEEDY, I JUST DON'T LIKE BEING BY MYSELF EVER AND I NEED YOU TO STAY HERE SO I DON'T HAVE TO BE ALONE!"

Truth hurt much?

It's not entirely untrue, in fact, it's not untrue at all. I think that as it applies to our relationship I absolutely am annoyingly needy.
As sick as it sounds, considering the fact that I have sex with this friend on a regular basis, at times I see him as a father figure, and catch myself over-reaching for his approval.
In fact, today (his first day back after being gone for two weeks) I probably uttered the phrase "aren't you proud of me?" like, fifty times.

He was.
And that is why he's my best friend.
He deserves sainthood for putting up with my shit for the past however many months we've known each other.

I'm gonna miss that fucker...
and he better have his shit together when I get there so I can crash on his couch!

la commedia est finita?

2007-02-22T15:45:00.000-08:00

A couple of months ago, I got it in my mind that I wanted to put together a sketch comedy show. Yes you heard right, a sketch comedy show...to be performed live, on stage. SNL without cameras, celebrity hosts, or money.
Now that I think about it, I've had this idea in my mind since I was about ten. That's when my mom finally started letting me watch SNL. I had never seen anything like it. A live show, where mistakes were made, lines were flubbed, laughs were unable to be contained. It just looked like so much fun I knew I had to get in on it somehow.
Ten years later, sketch comedy is hell to me. Just trying to get the sketches written is like pulling teeth, the only one guaranteed to crank out more than one five minute piece at a time is me. I keep getting dicked around by people who say they want to help, that they have the same dream, that they've always wanted to do exactly this.

It's been really rough on me. I have a goal and I'm going to make it and no one is going to get in my way. But it seems like the ones that keep trying to get me off track are the people who should be trying to help me reach the finish line.
Everytime I think I can count on them, they fail me. And I'm not totally sure that they're not doing it on purpose. All of their excuses just seem so paper thin, so insincere, so pointless. I don't know who or what to believe anymore.
I don't know if I can do this much on my own.
A part of me thinks I'm losing my mind.

If this is comedy, I hope I never laugh again.

from where i'm sitting

2007-02-09T12:58:00.000-08:00

i got up as early as i could this morning to continue work on the sketches i assigned to myself at the last sketch writer's meeting, and from where i'm sitting everything looks good except for the eyesore of a green desk that's directly in front of me.

a part of me wants to use said desk as a metaphor for my life. you know, chipped paint with good wood underneath...or something like that. but really, looking at it causes some mild internal conflict. there's nothing wrong with the desk except for the outside so why bother working on it, right? it still fits just perfectly in my room and holds all my important papers. but doesn't it deserve to look as good as it can, to be restored to it's original state or maybe something better?

it is my opinion that we all deserve to look and feel the best we can but at the same time i realize how vain of a statement that is. did you notice that the word "look" went before the word "feel"? i think it always goes that way. the next time you use the phrase, you'll see.

maybe i've just seen it too much, but this desk is really starting to feel very human. a straight back, puffed out chest, charmingly thin legs, and that obnoxious green paint with some of the wood peeking through like roots on a dye job gone wrong (or patches, whatever the case may be). the wood is good wood, a light-ish soothing brown and so...i will strip the paint away and find the perfect stain. something to enhance the wood, not cover it. and just so i don't seem too concerned with outward appearances, i'll stain the inside first.

it's going to be a project but it's worth it.
i think we all are.

a word from the wise

2007-02-07T17:19:00.000-08:00

if i could tell you anything, i wouldn't. because i think it's important that you find out for yourself.

but...
it's gonna hurt.
i'll tell you that much.

life...
it's gonna hurt. alot. and sometimes you're going to feel like you can't take the pain, that you'll just absolutely die if one more damn thing happens to you but for the love of pete...
man up.
you're gonna have to.
if you're gonna survive in this world, some part of you has to be tough.
and a bigger part will have to be brave enough to do what scares you most...
and looking in your eyes i can tell that what scares you most is screwing up.

you're gonna screw up kid.
we all do.
you'll drink too much.
you'll cheat.
you'll lie.
you'll lose your faith in those around you
but don't you EVER lose faith in yourself
'cause once you do, it's all over.
somehow, i know you'll make it.

but you didn't hear it from me.

"Drugs are bad, mmkay?"

2007-01-22T00:39:00.000-08:00

"I don't even know who you are anymore" she said, grabbing my baggie and flying across the room with it. Did she ever really know who I was, or who I thought I was, or even who I wasn't? I was going to say it, but if there's one thing I had learned about my mom up to that point it was that she had a really strong right arm, and that was the one she hit with.
I tried not to roll my eyes, but this scene was so mundane I couldn't stand it. It was exactly the kind of thing I never wanted to happen again in my life. Something familiar.
I could still smell the smoke on my sweater, it's sweetness drifting into my nostrils, distracting me from her invariable rage. And she wondered why I loved it so much, what the draw was, what was so exciting about it.
It gets me away from here. From you.
It helps me sleep mom. It makes me hungry. It makes me forget that I'm however old I am and still share a bed with my mom, share a room with my entire family, that I'm a freshman in high school and I work so many hours at my job that I barely have time to take a shit anymore, forget trying to actually do my schoolwork.
She was waving her hand in front of my face. All that time she was in my face I didn't even see her, didn't feel her.
"What else have you been taking?" she asked, as if she had found aspirin instead of a bag of weed. What do I say? Advil? Midol?
Taking. It's not taking, it's experiencing.
I wanted to say that so bad, but again, the right arm.
It struck me then that she shouldn't be surprised in the least bit. I came home smelling like weed and acting like a stoner everyday of my life and it takes her finding the bag to say something? It didn't seem logical. Nothing did.
She stood there, waving her skinny arms around and yelling but she seemed to just get more quiet the wider her mouth opened. She had an aura, a putrid yellow aura that made me nauseous and the room spun and dipped, like a child imitating a dancer they'd seen on television. Little colored sparks were coming out of her eyes, her fingertips, her frazzled blonde hair.
"Seriously?" I wondered aloud, slowly, before my face met the carpet.

I guess you could say this story has a moral, and I guess you could say that moral would be "sometimes weed isn't just weed. sometimes it's weed with angel dust."
But I'm sure you knew that already.

best month ever

2007-01-20T12:13:00.000-08:00

since my mom left today, here's a recap of what we did the past month:

yeah.

bones

2007-01-13T23:57:00.000-08:00

i'll find a place at the end of the world
and i won't come back until you're good
when you're gone i'll stack your bones
in my office so i'm never alone
your keys will jangle in my pockets
next to your watch
i'll take the photos out of lockets
it's time to stop
no dirt nap for you, you get no rest
i'll keep you up all night
i must confess
i can hear you sometimes like a whistling train
right next to my ear, soft like rain
until it gets closer like machine gun blasts
pounding in my ears like an airplane crash
i wake up bloody and bruised
just like when i was with you...

i found my place at the end of the world
and didn't come back until you were good
good and dead that's all they wrote

good
and
dead

curiosity killed the cat, and by cat I mean my self esteem

2007-01-10T17:36:00.000-08:00

I weighed myself today and I've got to tell you...not happy with the results. Not at all. I feel like I have no control over myself, or my body or any aspect of my life. I was perfectly fine and everything was going well and then I just HAD to weigh myself. I just HAD to let my morbid curiosity get the best of me.

And now, I'm going to pay for it. Big time. I just know it.

i'm leaving

2007-01-07T15:04:00.000-08:00

maybe.
i just don't know.
it's one of those want to go, but not totally sure if it's rational or possible.

but i hope it is.
i'm ready to get out of here.

wish me luck.

what do you really mean?

2007-01-03T18:58:00.000-08:00

I've been paying close attention to the things that come out of my mom's mouth. Sometimes I think she makes very astute observations without even realizing it or meaning to. This morning, when we were the only ones awake, we were discussing whether or not we'd be going grocery shopping.
"Your grandma said we were going" she said.
I rubbed my eyes, rolled over and said "That doesn't mean we are."

"That's why you guys confuse me. You never say what you mean or mean what you say."

I blink.
It never occurred to me that that was bad until it came out of her mouth with such contempt attached to it. To me, it always just meant everything was flexible.

"I'm not like that" I retorted, quickly.
"You kind of are."

Kind of.
Ok.
Good enough. That means I'm not so far gone that I can't change. That I'm only about knee deep into it and I have the rest of my body to pull myself out.
I don't want to be that type of person.
When I say something, I don't want people to have to fight their way through the pretext and subtext to find out what I meant. I want them to take it, run with it, and fulfill its intentions.

So from now on...
do what you say
say what you mean
one thing leads to another.

or something like that.

note to self: 2007 edition

2007-01-01T00:16:00.000-08:00

calm down
grow up
stay young (at heart, of course)
get a job you damn dirty hippie
learn to drive
smile
take some time to think
be less clingy
be more loving
stop playing the victim
like it or lump it
talk less shit
make more friends
stop dressing like a boy
spend less money
move out
stay moved out for longer than two months
stop jumping in head first
don't overanalyze things
be a better friend
talk someone into going camping
eat more cake
wean yourself away from Purell
don't apologize for being yourself
learn a card trick
finish a play
don't let theatre run your life
lose a weekend
don't quit school
play more games
don't buy pants unless they REALLY fit
work out more
don't obsess about working out
leave your hair alone
dress like a pirate
have more fun
buy a real life corset
don't pretend to not be smart
be less jealous
be more trusting
don't push it
and don't forget to breathe.

leaving...

2006-12-28T19:08:00.001-08:00

hi guys...due to the fact that my family is nuts and won't stop trying to destroy my mental health i will be gone for a while.
i don't know where i'm staying so if you want to get ahold of me you'll just have to call my cell phone.

laters!
<3 MM

I can never call my mother annoying again...

2006-12-26T19:45:00.000-08:00

because I am just like her.
I don't know how many times we've said the same thing at the same time (and not anything standard, stuff that I think only we could think of) or have watched a situation unfold, knowing that we were thinking the same thing about what we just saw.

But enough of that schmaltzy crap...I'mma gripe a little now.
She gets up so early. I swear I've been up at like seven every morning since she got here, and today we were up and out by nine, and done shopping by two. What the heck is that?!
I'm used to getting up at eleven, and not doing anything until seven, sometimes ten.

How dare she keep me from being lazy?!
Ha...

ouch

2006-12-22T14:25:00.000-08:00

I told a somewhat older friend of mine that I was going to try and self publish a book of my poetry and they said:
"I've read your poetry. I think you should wait until you have some good material before you spend all that money."

Whoa. Burn.

and then they said:
"It's just really obvious that you have no life experience."

I'm never speaking to them again.

another reason to sleep with one eye (and browser) open...

2006-12-21T01:59:00.000-08:00

I gave my friend Travis' myspace a makeover tonight...he'll be so excited when he logs on in the morning and sees it!

Check it out, before he changes something...
http://www.myspace.com/garr_glenn

PS...I Love Me

2006-12-20T14:00:00.000-08:00

I think I should ask all my guy friends if I give off that "I'm madly in love with you" vibe everytime they are nice to me.
Why?
Well, let's just say that as of late I seem to be misunderstood in that arena.
I hate to say this but...I pretty much am just in love with myself. It's not that I don't have the capacity to love other people (I'm over my robot stage), it's just that I have trouble with the whole being in love thing. And yes, there is a difference. I never thought there was but there really is.

Anyway...I think I deserve it. I mean, I've done the self loathing thing for such a long time and it just hurts...and it's not cute, and it frustrates the crap out of me.

So I guess one of my resolutions for next year will be to love myself as much as I can.

Hey, that's a good one!

Rosary

2006-12-18T00:56:00.000-08:00

The rosary is cold, shocking my hand as it lays in my palm like little pieces of blessed ice.

"Heavenly Father, I can take care of myself you know. You really shouldn't waste your time. You know I'm just gonna do what I wanna do. You can't stop me. Well, yes you can but you shouldn't...I want to live my life.
MY LIFE.
I want to live it how I want to and I don't care what it says in your damn...forgive me Father, darn book. You didn't even write that book did you?"

Father Callahan raises an eyebrow as he passes me, totally sure I'm doing something or saying something that I shouldn't.

"Why'd you make me Catholic anyway? Don't you know how hard it is to try and follow all these rules? No french kissing? And no fornicating?! I do that all the time!
So I'm going to hell for puttin' my tongue in someone else's mouth. That's like the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life. I hope you know you're gonna be lonely up there...you won't be seein' me or any of my family. See you made a mistake in makin' us Catholic 'cause you also made us Irish. We can't help but sin! We get so damn...sorry Father, darn excited we just can't help it, either that or we get drunk, and well...you know what happens next."

Some sister passes. Which one I don't know...they all look the same to me. She must know I'm not Hail Mary-ing.
I always lose count.

"...and speaking of my family, why me? I mean, they're not that bad I guess but come on! They're all insane. At least you didn't make me as crazy as you made all of them. And also, speaking of drunk...my dad. What's with him and the booze? Can't you do something about that?I guess he can't die from it but it makes him such an asshole. Oops, sorry again Father. It makes him unpleasant. You should have given me more patience if you wanted me to deal with these people for the rest of my life. But I guess that goes back to the makin' me Irish thing."

I shift, my knees crying out for mercy
"And what the hell were you thinkin' giving me bad knees?!"
Another twinge, worse this time.
"Are you even listening? Are you even there?"

My rosary hasn't warmed.

shadows

2006-12-16T03:14:00.000-08:00

Once lying on a different plane
now all the greys cannot contain the night
as the sun moves in
and we go stepping into morning.
Your eyes are more clear now
and although they're only brown
they make me slip and make me fall
I hope that I don't end up broken.
And your voice will dance on the breeze
as you sing through the stillness and around the trees
and I'll hum along though I don't know the words,
content in this perfect place.
The sun comes up higher and it's afternoon
the night will fall again, very soon
I'll have you in the dark again
and we'll both turn into shadows.

Meg = doormat? Not really.

2006-12-15T23:34:00.000-08:00

Do you ever just wake up and say:
"I'm not going to try so hard anymore"...and not in a bad way?

I think I try too hard to make people like me, and I've always been pretty sure that it either backfires or opens me up to being treated like a doormat. A recent encounter with a fairly new person in my life confirmed it. They seemed to lean more towards treating me like a doormat, and I just snapped. I let them know that in the grand scheme of things they just weren't that important in my life.

It was good to be honest. To admit to myself that I just didn't care as much as I thought I did. Took a huge load off my chest.
So from now on, if people like me and want to treat me as a friend and human being, I can and will reciprocate. If not, I'll treat them like as much of a pile of shit as they do me. Why the hell should I care anyway? I have my own life to live and enough friends to tide me over for the next thousand years.
I don't need to kiss your ass. Anyone's ass, for that matter.

I am really starting to feel the distance between little Meg and grown up Meg.
I like it.

sweet to me

2006-12-14T02:02:00.000-08:00

i love you
the way you slide into my vein
the way you're so like candy
or by your other name
the way your smoke slides down my throat
snakes through my brain finding lobes to poke
i love you
the way you're cheap and easy
the way you make me sleep
i can't wake up
just hold me
don't shake me awake
i love you
the way you make me useful
the way you make me rush
how i can finish my day in
an hour fueled by your tender touch
i love you
the way you make me run
the way you make me hide
when you're around
i always sweat out all the fears inside
i love you
the way you make me forget
the way you make me pale
they'll never see me crying
i can forget this hell
because you love me back.

Madonna's Ass: a rant

2006-12-13T13:17:00.000-08:00

So I was doing my daily Myspace ritual when I saw an ad that said something like "Who's Butt is This?"...the prize, a new Razr phone. The cost, my dignity.

I knew who the ass belonged to.

"That's totally Madonna's ass!" I thought, in the deep dark recesses of my mind. And instantly, I was ashamed of myself.

I hope I'm not one of those people. You know, the kind that watches Entertainment Tonight to hear the latest news about crazy ass Lindsay Lohan and her drunken antics. Or crazy ass Nicole Richie and her driving problems. Or crazy ass Britney Spears and her...vagina.

What about Maya Angelou's vagina?

Wait, that's not what I meant.

I just mean, what about people that matter? What about people that have done some good in the world, or at least tried. Why don't these people get much attention?

Let's take Bono for example.
Why does anyone care what he has to say about poverty, AIDS, etc?
Because he's Bono. Not because of the genius work he's trying to do...but because he's in a band that has kicked major ass for a hella long time.
That's not necessarily a bad thing, at least he's using his celebrity to do something good but...what if he was still just Paul Hewson, a dude from Ireland. An unfamous Irish dude isn't going to get any work done.

Why?
Because as a society we have our priorities all wrong. Doing the right thing comes after looking good, being famous, making money and beating everyone else to the punch. Helping other people is just too hard and who the hell cares if a bunch of people an ocean away die of some disease? You know, that money that you spend ordering Manolo Blahnik shoes online could be sent to Africa to feed a village for a month.

Too bad you just HAVE to emulate Sarah Jessica Parker. Too bad you can't just live your own life and be yourself.

What is so bad about being a regular person and doing some good in the world?

Hi, my name is Meg and I'm a masochist waves

2006-12-11T13:16:00.000-08:00

Last night was a good night.
I won't go into details because I don't know of anyone who would want to know the kind of details I usually have to give.

But it was good nonetheless.

I was finally able to admit something, to myself and to someone else (who is always open minded...thankfully)

I don't want the power that I think I want.
I just want to exist, live my life, be happy.
And sometimes...I crave that feeling of absolute helplessness that comes with being tied down, chained (literally in this case, but it applies in a figurative way as well).
There's just something about not being able to move that makes you face your situation from a new angle. When you can't run or hide and you know it's going to hurt like hell. When you face the pain and realize it's not going to kill you.

Such a feeling of pride when you make it through, still all in one piece.
And it stings.
But it's so good at the same time.
I just love it.

Such is life.

Mornings

2006-12-08T21:33:00.000-08:00

I climbed back into the house through the bedroom window, dreading having to tell my mother where I'd been. I stepped wrong, bringing my foot down on her legs.
"Watch where you're going!" she grumbled, without moving "We are talking about this tomorrow you know."
That is one of the things I hated about our apartment. When we were close it was great, being that there was only one bedroom, one bed, but we were never close that often. Her husband made sure we hated each other and that I was the odd one out. He can say that's not how it was but I know better than that.
Anyway...all I wanted was my own bed.
I think that's one thing everyone deserves. Their own bed to go to when they're sick, when they're fed up, when they want to be alone. When I made her mad or when she made me mad, there was never anywhere to go, I couldn't even dream in peace.
All that night I tossed and turned wondering what she was gonna say, who she was gonna keep me from seeing, where she was going to keep me from going. I dreamed about locks, and chains.
I woke up very early, right when the clock struck five, grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste and climbed back out the window to catch the bus to school. I could have used the front door,but he was there, awake and waiting.
I sat in the back of the bus, and tried to cover my face. My eyes were still bloodshot and throbbing, my lips felt dry, ready to fall right off. I always told myself that I wasn't going to do it anymore, that I was gonna quit, and cold turkey too. I was brave enough, I was ready enough. but everytime I tried, he was there with more.
No one was on campus when I got there at five thirty, but the sun was coming up a little. I found the highest hill on the field we never used for sports and sat down to watch. I never do that anymore, I'm never up that early. Sometimes I miss it, but nowadays there's not many things I care to do by myself. Not like that, it's not the same.
I watched the sun inch it's way into the new day, changing the sky from black, to gray, pink, red, light blue. Not one cloud in the sky that I could see...the higher it rose in the sky, the more I felt triumphant. It rose and rose until it found it's place, the best thing about the sky. It was what I wanted to be. The best, the brightest. I somehow got it into my head that as long as Iwas up to see it I had won.
It perched itself in the blue, and I started to lose the energy I woke up with. My legs stopped waggling, my hands stopped shaking, and I could hear someone coming from behind me.
Some kid. I guess I wasn't who they thought I was...they turned and scampered off, looking embarrassed. I checked my watch.

Seven thirty. The library was open.
If they still had "Howl" it would be a good day.

lookit...

2006-12-07T01:12:00.000-08:00

"Four Generations"
Drifting by
lazy and placated
letting my hand touch the softness new flowers on the roadside
as the car meanders down the familiar dirt road
some chicken crossing...
isn't that funny?
A day that wouldn't end
and too many around speaking tongues and spitting memories
surrounded by everything I know
I feel the darkness like some familiar dream of death
and somehow i'm alone under the glittering stars
wanting to scream but tasting nothing but silence
on my carnation colored lips...
I don't want to be my mother's mother's mother anymore
the one who never lied and lost her only son
I don't want to paint lines up my legs
I don't want to ration coffee
there's so much to waste now...
Back in the car
waving to those little women old and almost gray
a little more hunched over than before
I don't want to get old...
Drifting by
talking myself back into laziness
letting my hand touch the softness of new flowers on the roadside
back down that same familiar dirt road
some chicken crossing...
to get to the other side I suppose

I need the strength to give to someone else...

2006-12-05T00:42:00.000-08:00

So, I have this friend who's having a really hard time. And this time, the friend isn't me so don't even go there.

I'm really worried about them...they seem to be at the end of their rope. I know what to say, but it's really important that they listen, and I'm not sure if they're ready or willing to take my advice and hear what I have to say. I'm not sure if they're ready to hear that life is worth living and no matter how many mistakes you've made there is always a way to make things better and a new start around the corner. That there is so much ahead of you in this life, so much that you shouldn't miss.

Our lifespan is as long as it is for a reason...because there are so many things for us to see, so many people for us to meet, and so many opportunities to make our lives what we want them to be.

I just hope and pray that they listen. I hope that they're still here in the morning.

This makes me laugh.

2006-12-04T19:27:00.000-08:00

I got an email from someone who kind of knows me but not really, and basically it was just all about how awful I am and why they think I'm a pathetic human being. The whole reason why they emailed me is because they found me on Myspace and started reading my blogs...which according to them were "rubbish" and just further proved their theory that I'm worthless and always have been.
I decided to publicly answer three of their gripes, just so they can feel special. Consider it an early Christmas present.

"You've been loafing for twenty years. Isn't that long enough?"

Loafing? First of all, who even says that anymore? And secondly, could you BE more wrong? I was working and making my own money and contributing to my household when I was 13. I missed over 50 days of school my freshman year because there were some days I just couldn't get off work. At one point, I was the only one out of me, my mother and my stepfather that was making any money...and I still feel bad that I didn't always make enough for rent and food. So excuse the crap out of me for not having a job in the past year.

"You would be almost perfect if you had any self esteem"

Obviously, you don't know me at all. Sure, sometimes I get insecure about whatever the crap doesn't look cute about my body at the time, but to say I have no self esteem is pretty far off. I have to be honest with you...I'd have sex with me.
It has been a long road to personal acceptance for me but believe it or not, I got there. I'm happy with who I am, and I'm happy with my life. Sure, there's stuff I want to do with my life still, and I still wanna lose five pounds but hey, I think that's just a girl thing. It has nothing to do with how I feel about myself. I love myself more than anyone else does.

"You try too hard."

I'll give you this one. But I don't do it for the reasons that you think. I'm not desperate, I just haven't shaken the habit. And alright, I DO want people to like me but being nice is way better than being an asshole. What's that saying about honey and vinegar...something about flies? You know what I mean.

Moral of the story:
They're in love with me but they can't find the words to tell me so they're taking their frustration out on the object of their desire (me). Classic case of projection.

stupid pictures

2006-12-02T04:01:00.000-08:00

Sometimes when I can't sleep and I'm afraid I'll have bad dreams I'll flip through a photo album or two. Pictures of myself when I was small, with my grandparents who were young and didn't smoke as much...and my mom who was younger, and not as hard. I pick the albums that I know only have happy pictures inside, much the same way I pick the side of my brain that only has happy memories.

One stupid picture.
When I saw it, my face got hot and my body got cold and it felt like I had Pop Rocks in my veins. Whizzing through me, fizzling their way towards my heart. And then I laughed.

My uncle. The coolest person I've ever known in my life.
He was the only one in the family that was like me. I know you don't know my family but...sometimes I think fun is not in their vocabulary. No fun, no mistakes, no crying. Suck it up an join the Marines. I love them but they can be such hardasses sometimes. My uncle and I were the only outwardly insecure and emotional members of the family...and now that he's gone all that is left is me.

The picture is of a recliner that has tipped over with us in it.
Did I say recliner? I meant rocketship.

There was this commercial when I was younger that had rocket noises in it, and everytime it came on and I was sitting in his lap, he would put his hands behind my knees, lift me up a little, and lean back in the recliner as far as he could without tipping it over...all the while making more rocket noises ("mine are cooler" he would say).
One day, I guess he leaned back too far.
We weren't hurt, in fact, we both thought it was the funniest thing that had ever happened in our lives...well, it probably was for me since I was like four.
My grandma yelled at my mom for taking the picture instead of helping us up...and then she yelled at us, of course, and told us to never do "that stupid spaceship thing" ever again.

Did we listen?
We never did.

It's been a couple of years since he died, but I'm still not used the fact that he's not going to randomly show up one day to ask if he can crash on our couch for a few days.
I've never missed anyone this bad before.

Will I ever get over this?
Stupid picture.

totally taking a break

2006-11-30T23:13:00.000-08:00

So I informed some people of my desire to take a break from shows. They were like "WHAAAT? you haven't even done that many!"

Seriously?

January: rehearsals for the CSUB One Acts
February: CSUB One Acts (acting)
March/April: rehearsals for Execution of Justice at BC
May: Execution of Justice, rehearsals for BCT One Acts
June: BCT One Acts (lights, directing and writing), rehearsals for Pinocchio
July: Pinnochio at BCT (stage managing), rehearsals for Daryl
August: Daryl at BCT (stage managing), rehearsals for Picnic
September: Picnic at BCT (acting), rehearsals for Project Murder(?)
October: Project Murder at the Empty Space (acting)
November: rehearsals for Velveteen Rabbit at BCT (assistant directing)
December: It's a wonderful Life at Jewel Box Theatre (stage managing)

Ten shows in a row.
I'd say I could stand to take a break for a few months.

...and if I even mention auditioning for a show please smack me.

buried, drowning in words.

2006-11-30T02:11:00.001-08:00

I can't stop thinking about my day.
I did so much and yet I feel like I didn't do anything.

I think I'm still measuring busyness and doing things by other people's standards. It's like, if you didn't leave the house until 6 pm you didn't do anything. Well, you know what...I wrote. I wrote like all day long and believe me, it was exhausting. There are just so many words, a million ways to say one thing.

It's like giving blood.
Sometimes it's a painful process, but it has the potential to be life saving.
Well, that is a bit dramatic. But it's true, and anyway...it gives me something to do now that I'm not in school.

Since I gave up on school, I have felt kind of lost. I mean, I made my bed and I plan to lie in it but everyone just keeps telling me I'm too smart to quit.
"You're smarter than that." they say.
While I do appreciate the faith (but not) that you might have in my intelligence, I made my decision. It's not where I want to be right now. End of story.

You know, I used to find immense importance in physical things, pleasure especially...of a sexual nature usually. But some nights ago, I realized that how we feel and what we feel are not always connected. And I also realized that no matter how much you want to...there are just some things you can't say. Won't say.
I used to just blurt things out not caring if the timing was right...but I think that the older I've gotten the more I have realized that words are sensitive creatures...things have to be just so.

All I want right now...is words. Comforting words. Words I've never heard before. Ones I have but not in a while.
Validation.
Affirmation.
Written. Spoken. Screamed. Whispered.

Just say it.

Anyway...
This is the only time when I'm totally sure. When I'm not scared...when the words come from my fingers and not my mouth

mini story morsels

2006-11-28T18:13:00.000-08:00

If they mated:

So, I was talking to a friend of mine and they said something that I am still not sure how to interpret:
"If Lucille Ball and Paul Lynde had a child...it would be you, sweetheart"

Oddly enough, this friend was not the first to call me Lynde-ish. I'm a cackling, drunk gay man. That's so hot.

Poo shoes:

I was going through my closet looking for something cute to wear for opening night (I always dress up opening night, no matter what my involvement in a show is) and I found my tall boots. My deliciously naughty, high heeled, knee high boots. I almost squealed, having not seen them since last winter. Imagine my surprise when I lifted them out of their box and found poo. Cat poo. New cat poo. Now how the hell do you get cat poo out of suede?! Damn cat.
Needless to say, they are going into retirement.
Anyone know where I can get some not hella expensive boots?

Teeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeks:

Two tech weeks in a row. Ay dios mio! I'm going to lose my mind. More importantly, I'm not going to be able to spend any time with the friends I have that are not in my shows. Sure, I'll get to see Shannon, Liz, Tim (It's a Wonderful Life) and Julie (Velveteen Rabbit) but everyone else, unfortunately, will probably get neglected. Ugh, and the CB...sometimes I think I'll never see him again. Busy folks, both of us are.
I hope by now that everyone understands this theatre thing.

Weight loss secret:

Rice Chex and fat free milk. Seriously it seems like that's all I've eaten the past two weeks and I swear I've lost like six pounds. Why didn't I figure this out sooner?

Yar...that's about it.
Ohhhh, and if any of my Bakersfield theatre friends read this...there is going to be a Hellcat meeting on Friday at Border's on Stockdale. We start talking business at two, and when that's done we'll be discussing the sketch comedy project, so if you've written a sketch bring it in, and if not then maybe we can start from scratch. Everyone is welcome, the more the merrier!

Thankful things and smatterings of clarity

2006-11-24T00:25:00.000-08:00

If you know me, you know I just don't seem like the mushy type. In fact, I'm NOT the mushy type. But there's just something about seeing everyone together, alive, and mostly healthy that makes me melt a little.
Don't get me wrong, they drive me a little insane...but I love my family. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about, and silently pray for, every single one of them. Not that I don't trust them to live their lives without somehow getting killed or maimed, but since my uncle died I've been alot more watchful, protective, paranoid even.

Like I said to my youngest cousin today before she took off on her quad:
"Be careful. Dying's bad, mmkay?"

She thought I was joking, and when she came back in one piece she said "I'm alive!".
She really has no idea how thankful I am for that.
That everyone is alive.
That I'm alive.
That there was pie...

Enough schmaltzy crap, let's move onto the smatterings of clarity.

I have realized that I allow my friends to pick on me too much, and saying "dude, not cool" does not suffice when they actually hit a nerve.
Sure, I should just be a good sport about it and let them pick, knowing that they'd be wrong about most things they say on the off chance that they're actually being malicious. Most of them, I know it's all in good fun, but a few of them I'm starting to wonder about.

Did I tell you the Mini Cooper story?!

I was talking to a friend about what kind of cars we wanted. She says..."blah blah blah Honda blah" and I said "I'd pick a Mini Cooper. They're cute"

She says:
"Yeah, I noticed that alot of big people drive Minis"
and no, she didn't mean tall when she said big.

All I could say was "Dude..."
she laughed. and laughed. and laughed.
and then she asked, quite insincerely "I'm sorry, did I offend you?"

No shit.
But seriously, I love it when my friends who aren't much smaller than me feel the need to call me big even though they know I've been having major mental rumblings about the state of my body. Oh, and thanks for making me cry. It always makes me feel like a mentally stable lumberjack Marine.

Hi sarcasm! You're my favorite.

The next time someone says something like that they are being told to fuck off.
Smooches!

...and now onto Christmas!

Part of a short story, hope you like it.

2006-11-20T04:08:00.000-08:00

A cold, salty breeze pushed it's way all the way from the ocean into town, changing things. I pulled my sweater closer, cursing the fallen off buttons. I could go inside, if not for all the yelling. I had left the way I always did...I scooted past them, not making any noise, slid out the door and across the yard. They wouldn't see me, it was dark enough.

I didn't know where I was going, I never did. sometimes I would leave mindlessly and end up somewhere I didn't want to walk all the way home from. Stuff like that could be dangerous, someone said to me once. Yeah, but they weren't local. Anywhere over here would be dangerous for them. Especially with that Louis Vuitton purse and those fake nails. What was a rich person doing overhere anyway?
I turned the corner and got slapped in the face by hanging, dry palm leaves. I knew they were there, I just seemed to always forget. Through the alley, around the broken couch, away from the familiar places, I was trying to get lost on the main road. I always thought that maybe, just maybe , someone would find me, love me, take me away. But it never happened. Usually it was just Paola and the kids, on the way back from church, or Claudio and Marco. People I knew, people who would make me take a ride home when all I wanted was to just leave. It seemed like someone was always bringing me back home. I'd smile, say thank you, and hop in. Hop out when we got there, thank them again and promise to stay out of trouble, to not walk so far. But they knew...they knew the next time things got loud I'd be gone. I hope they didn't feel bad for me. I never liked that.
Half a mile and no one stopped me yet. I was glad. Maybe I'd make it wherever I was going. My chanclas made a skidding sound when I walked, brushing against the concrete and fallen leaves. Sounded good with the swish of my corderoys. Like a song.
Chanclas. Paola taught me that word. I liked it, for some reason. Really, Paola had taught me almost everything I needed to know in order to get along there without making trouble. I tried to tell my Ma but she wouldn't listen. She thought she could just do and say whatever. That's why she got heckled so much on her way home. Sometimes I was scared for her...but what can I say, she kind of brought it on herself. But I always knew she'd be alright, Marco knew she was my Ma. That meant she'd be safe.
But she should have learned, like me, that there are some people you don't look in the eye unless they say it's ok. You have to earn that eye contact, that respect. You don't just get it, and if they ask you to take something down somewhere, make a delivery, you do it. You never say no, especially to Marco. He was nice enough, but you just didn't want to say no. I felt kind of honored because after a while he started coming straight to me when he had a package needed delivering. That was a big deal 'cause believe you me, I was the only skinny white girl he let deliver for him. In fact, I think I was the only skinny white girl that was allowed to talk to him, that he liked talking to. That's why he liked me...he said, because I wasn't as white as I looked.
Sometimes, we'd sit on his front lawn across from each other, and he'd smoke his weed and blow the sweet smoke in my direction. A gift in the form of a little contact high. That's when I knew he trusted me.
He never let me smoke though, said I was too pretty and that smoking destroys your face."that's why my old lady has wrinkles already" he coughed, smoke pouring out of his mouth and nostrils "she smokes more 'n I do...trust!"
I don't think he thought that through, but I trusted him at the time. I trusted him, and sometimes I thought I'd do anything for him.

The company has a Myspace!

2006-11-18T17:05:00.000-08:00

In case you didn't know...my friends and I started a theatre company. Yeah, I know it sounds like some amateur crap but we're really gonna go for it!

So, check us out on Myspace:
http://www.myspace.com/hellcattheatre

or email us
hellcattheatre@yahoo.com

Yay!

in the middle

2006-11-15T16:03:00.000-08:00

I am going to admit something.
This isn't a plea for pity, because that kind of crap just pisses me off.
Once you know, we can discuss it...you can ask me about it, but if you attempt to stage some sort of intervention I will cut you.

I have a problem with food.
It is food's fault that I'm not a thin-ish Hottie McHotster dancer anymore. Oh man, I was so hot.
But food man! Seriously!
I love it...I love to eat it, I love to make it. But I hate it at the same time. So sometimes I don't eat it. Hell, I could go a week without eating and I would be perfectly fine. In fact, fairly recently I was able to avoid food for about three days. It made me feel powerful, better, lighter, more in control...and then it almost made me pass out.
Stupidly stupid bad habit yes...I won't argue with you on that.

Realizing that it was so close to Thanksgiving freaked me out. I used to look forward to it, but the last few years it's been nervewracking for me. All that food that my family won't let me get away with not eating.

Two pressures, to eat and to not, both raging in my mind. Panic attack inducing, almost. I would normally just, not go...but seeing as how we're all thankful that great grandma made it through her surgery and is doing well there is no way that would fly.

I just feel so stuck in the middle.
I mean, like I said before...I love food, and Thanksgiving is pretty much the most kickass holiday next to Saint Patrick's Day (sorry but food has never beat alcohol for me, ever) but I know I'm going to go on a weird not eating kick and a hardcore working out kick and it's just...bah.

You know?

get a jorb

2006-11-14T21:14:00.000-08:00

I'm starting to think that I'm just not funny enough to have a job. Whenever I go into interviews everyone appears to be very chatty...and I just cannot believe that is in fact how they are all the time. Or maybe I'm wrong, they are...but I'm not and that's why I remain jobless.

So maybe next time I go in and they ask me
"Why should we hire you?"
instead of saying "because I'm _______ " (insert good thing)
I should say:
"Because, I'm awesome!" or "BECAUSE I ROCK EVERYONE'S FACES!"

and if they ask me:
"Why do you want to work here?"
I will say
"Because I want to put someone's calculator in jello like Jim did on The Office. HIGH FIVE!"

or maybe when they say I gave a good interview I can say:
"Thanks bitch" like Nicole Richie would. I'm so not over her yet.

Oh, or again, when they say I gave a good interview I'll say:
"Thanks for that, I hope you have a beautiful life because I know that there's no way in hell you're going to call me back" because that's what keeps happening.

Well, there's always prostitution.

Decision 2006

2006-11-11T13:43:00.000-08:00

I hopped out of the car, a goodly amount of annoyance already clouding my mind. There was a grip of people standing in line, waiting to pass through the metal detector and vote. Metal detector? Really?
Something told me not everyone was here to vote, but the reason alludes me now. Probably just skepticism on my part, or maybe the fact that when I went to lose my voting virginity there in 2004 it was almost exactly the same time and I only had about two people ahead of me.
The guy in front of me had a puffy jacket on, with fur trim on the hood, so I thought I'd talk to him. I opened my mouth to speak and he waved me off "I'm not here to vote, I'm just waiting in line with my girlfriend". Great, I thought, Jigglypuff thinks I'm using my rights as an American citizen to pick up dudes. Had this been jury duty, he wouldn't have been wrong.
Girlfriend peeked her head out from behind his puffiness and waved. She had a crazed look in her eye, the kind Martha Stewart got that day that she taught us how to dress babies as Thanksgiving foods.
"I love voting!" she proclaimed "It's just like, the most important thing you could ever do!". Someone behind us gave a mocking "woot" and someone in front of us let out a long, drawn out sincere one. I gave a golf clap and halfway smiled back at her as she jumped up and down, apparently encouraged by the outburst.
Not one to leave well enough alone, I turned my attention back to her boyfriend.
"Not registered to vote eh?" I asked, only somewhat interested in his answer.
"Just don't wanna."
"Oh, well...there it is."
Girlfriend let the Mozart laugh fly out of her mouth unashamedly. I knew there was a reason why I sort of liked her.
Puffy turned to her and made a shushing sound, like it would have stopped her. It didn't. She continued snorting and chortling and nudging the people around her throughout the entire encounter. I hope she knew them.
"Look," he began, redfaced "I just don't vote ok. There's no point."
"What makes you think that?"
"I'm not in college, so my vote doesn't count. Everyone knows that!"
Unsure whether or not he meant the Electoral College or college in general I decided not to press that issue.
I turned to speak to the slightly less cantankerous person behind me, but before I could say anything Puffy tapped me on the shoulder.
"...and besides that, I don't think it's cool that you have to pick sides. You know, Republican or Democrat."
"You could always vote issue by issue. And since this is like a midterm election, that's really what you'll be doing more of. I mean, aside from voting for members of Congress and state legislatures and stuff like that."
"Still, not cool that they make you choose. What if you don't fit in as a Republican or Democrat?"
I was really starting to think he was screwing with my mind.
I blinked. "You do know that there are other parties right? Independent, Green, Libertarian..." he didn't stop me, so I continued "America First, Socialist, Peace and Freedom, American Nazi, Labor, Light, Natural Law..."
"Alright Gonzo Politicker, I get the point" he grumbled, shrugging me off for a second time.

I wonder if he'll register and vote next time...
I'm not counting on it.

At least he didn't run by yelling "only dweebs vote, Votey McDweeberson!" like someone did the first time I voted.
*sigh*
God Bless America, ya'll!

stress, surgery and theatre theatre theatre!

2006-11-10T11:03:00.000-08:00

Great grandma is alive and doing fine, but for some reason I can't stop stressing. I guess there was something else in my mind that was eating away at me...something that I just can't put my finger on. I hope I figure it out soon before I start losing some of my luscious locks!

You know, I was thinking about this as I posted and reposted bulletins on Myspace about the various shows that are going on around town right now:
as much as it freaks me out, and stresses me out and makes me want to eat my own face...theatre is just terribly exciting (even if I'm not directly involved with a show, whenever I hear that one is opening I get a tingly feeling in my stomach and silently, or sometimes not so, wish everyone a good show ) and I don't think I'll be able to quit anytime soon. I should probably take a little bit of a break, but I don't think I'd quit forever.

I know, I know...glutton for punishment much? Yes, yes I am. But for now, I'm going to go to as many shows as I can, wish my friends broken legs (you know what I mean!) and enjoy myself as much as I can. A mini break, if you will...and I think I deserve it.

In the Navy?

2006-11-08T14:01:00.000-08:00

Let me preface this story by saying:
Anyone who knows me knows that I'm just not the hardworking type. I mean, I get stuff done...sure. But when the going gets tough, I usually pass the job to someone else or give up. Not a good habit, and a habit I'm trying to break...but a habit nonetheless.

That being said, I feel that it will take a very dire situation or decision on my own part to change my ways, being that I am twenty years set into them. Apparently, my grandparents agree.

I came home Sunday night from an outing to find an packet of papers on my bed, face down. I turn it over and what do I find in big, bold letters? UNITED STATES NAVY.
This packet claims it's glad that I requested the information contained therein. Little does it know I had nothing to do with its arrival at my home. I flip it over, and over and yes...it is indeed addressed to me and yes indeed it is from the United States Navy.

In all the turning a little snippet of paper had fallen off of the envelope.
Confused, and slightly annoyed, I picked the paper up and opened it. It read:

Meg,
Hate to say it, but you're lazy. We feel the Navy will be a step in the right direction.

Just think about it.
Grandma and Grandpa

*blink*

Very funny. They take that one incident when I screamed at them "THAT'S IT! I'M RUNNING AWAY AND JOINING THE NAVY!" and use it against me a full ten years later. Typical.

I decide to humor them and read the damn thing...after all, I was already home which meant my fun was over for the night. I changed out of my skirt and into some sweatpants, and curled up with my new literature.

I'm not totally convinced. However, if I had to join the military, I'm sure I'd pick the Navy, despite their propensity towards being out to sea (which I am immensely terrified of) for extended periods of time.

But the uniforms are pretty sexy.
Hot damn, I think I might join up!

Girls Next Door

2006-11-04T16:27:00.000-08:00

As much as I hate to admit it, I kind of like that show. I mean, what's not to like? Three beautiful (albeit dorky) women cavorting around a mansion...usually in costumes. If Hef were a little younger it would be a bi girl's dream show.

Mindless as it may be, it really brings up an important issue for me:
as progressive as I would like to think that I am, I'm not too sure that I could share my man like that. Physically, yeah...I have no problem with that. In fact the occasional tryst with someone else or the occasional threesome probably does more good than it does harm...in conjunction with a few ground rules, etc. Call me crazy but it all sounds pretty fun to me. (says the girl who is currently single. HA!)

However...even if he is acting, Hef really seems to genuinely to be in love all three girls. Sure, he loves one more than the others, but you know. How ok would I be with the one I love loving someone else as well as me? Love is such an important part of who we are, how we see ourselves, how we see other people.

As my idol, W.A. Mozart says:
"Love, love, love...that is the soul of genius"

I think that rings true on many levels.
Art can be better with love behind it. True, lost, or unrequited...love is fuel. I know that it has been for me, as I inch closer to loving myself, loving my friends, loving life. You'll say I have no idea what love is, I'm only twenty...blah blah blah. But I beg to differ. I have seen a house without love, and I have seen a house full of it. There is a difference, a very palpable one, and I can tell.
As far as genius goes, don't we all feel a little smarter, a little more clever when you finally figure
it out and find someone that loves you? (as if you planned the whole thing yourself. pfft!)

Maybe I should just move in with two other girls and an aging magazine editor...to test the theory.

pink phase

2006-11-03T18:51:00.000-08:00

Like Picasso, I tend to label my emotions by color instead of trying to concoct a complex string of phrases that will no doubt just bore whomever I am speaking to at the time.

When it is spring and I feel fresh, and every whiff of air is crisp and light...I tend to feel green.
When it is winter or I just feel like hibernating...I feel gray.
When I'm just confused, and have no idea what's going on in my life and I just want to crawl in a hole and die...I feel brown.
And when I have just finished doing something naughty, I feel black and red. Or black and blue depending on who my partner in crime was. HA!

But right now, I'm in a pink phase. I feel pretty, and soft, and sweet...but with an edge. So, I guess hot pink.

Yes. Hot pink.

pretty, sweet, sexy, bold, cute, soft, naughty, attention getting, amazing, feminine.

Oh my, what's happening to me?

sigh, swoon, sneeze

2006-11-03T02:51:00.000-08:00

Really good night.
Might write a story or at least a little snippet about it soon...unless he objects.

HA!

Bodies

2006-11-01T16:50:00.000-08:00

What would life be like if we didn't have bodies? If we were just floating orbs of personality...

I think that I neglect my soul. I get so wrapped up in the physical. My image, my desires, my pains. The moment my muscles start to ache I run for pain medication. The moment I feel the twinge of lust I have it taken care of. But what do I do when my heart aches and I feel like if one more damn thing happens I'm going to lose it?

Nothing.

I don't tell anyone, I don't even allow myself to think about it. I throw it down, I shove it down, I swallow it down until it feels like it's gone. But it's not. It's not gone...it's there stacking up. Piling one on top of another and I'm almost full.

I don't know how to purge.

What can I say? What can I do to clear my soul of all these toxins that I've been keeping in? Everyone says to talk about it but I can't. It makes me so uncomfortable to think that maybe people know that I have feelings.
Kind of like when I was in school and I didn't want my teachers to know I was smart because they'd never cut me any slack if they knew. I don't want to have to always be emotional. I don't want people to see me as "that girl with problems".

I want to be an orb. An orb of personality with no body.

Ugly

2006-10-30T22:15:00.000-08:00

It feels weird knowing that you're all you have.

I always used to think that there were people in my life that I could go to with things, that I could tell anything to...but the more I think about it the more I realize that even if they wanted to I'd never let them.

I'm afraid that if I tell you things you'll hold it against me.
I can't let you see through me, because then you'll know how ugly I am inside...
and you won't be able to see the good that's underneath.

I hate this.

Angsty Teenage Poetry

2006-10-29T18:46:00.000-08:00

I was digging through my poetry when I found this, which was written when I was seventeen or so.

Dying Inside

I walked into the sea
deep enough to drown my scars
started floating to the surface
face up looking at the stars
the darkness surrounding
my body and my soul
physical manifestation of
the feeling of that seemed
to burn into my core
senses fail meas I'm sailing
with my body as my vessel tonight
what was once a cold wound
is painful again as the feeling surrounds me
the feeling of dying inside.

It's almost scary for me to re-read. I just can't believe there was a time in my life when I felt this way. I'm so glad I've grown up, and out of that feeling.

PPD

2006-10-28T18:20:00.000-07:00

Everytime I do a show, I always say "This is the last show I'm doing", not because I hate theatre or that I really never want to do it again, but at a certain point in the run of a show I remember that I'm going to be sad when the show is over. I'm not one of those people that likes to dwell on the melancholy, but it just always seems to creep up on me, usually at the second to last show. Things were much the same for Project Murder last night, when I delivered one of my funnier lines and had to keep from choking up. After tonight, I will never say those lines again in front of an audience. I will never be drunk, loyal, overbearing, sassy, in love with shrimp balls Lucy Fitzsimmons ever again.

And that makes me sad, because she is amazing...and as conceited as this will make me sound, I feel amazing when I let myself fully be her.

I was talking with my dear friend Andrew last night when the topic of my self image came up.
"I have assloads of self esteem," I remarked, quite eloquently if I do say so myself.
He looked at me, laughed and said "No. No you don't."

I thought about it for a few moments and realized that, sonofabitch, he was right. I'm not sure how I got this way or why. When given time to think about it I can think of at least five good things about myself....and yet, the only time I feel totally comfortable with myself is when I just so happen to be someone else.

A slutty red dress, a wedding cake hat, an obnoxious pink coat: they are enablers. They let me be onstage who I want to be in real life.

The characters I've played thus far have been amazing, strong women.
There is nothing fake about Lucy Fitzsimmons. She tells it like it is.
There is no uncertainty in Irma Kronkite's life. She's not gonna be a slave her whole life and she'll wear whatever hat she wants.
There is no lonliness for Raquel. She wants a man, she gets him. Why? Because she's a maneater and she would NEVER apologize for it.

What about me though?
Sometimes I lie to make people feel better. Sometimes I lie to myself about how I feel, because I just don't want to be sad. Anger is fine...it's how I was raised. But sadness? Crying? Not allowed.

Who am I? Where am I going? Why was I even put on this earth? I have no idea, and when I think about it, it scares me. It really, really scares me. What if I never contribute to society, to the world? Then I was born for nothing.

Does he like me? Probably not. Why would he? I mean, I'm loud and obnoxious, I talk without thinking, I'm stubborn. I'm emotionally confused and probably damaged. Who could look past things like that? Who would bother taking the time to see that I'm worth the trouble?

As much as it runs me into the ground, and makes me yammer on like this...as much as I'll never make much money doing it, I'm just not sure if I could ever stop doing theatre because I'm not much on my own, but give me a character that has potential and I can be ten feet tall...or at least feel that way.

The New Pornographer

2006-10-25T12:55:00.000-07:00

Now's the time to send the kids out of the room.
That's right...today, Meg ventures into the world of erotic literature.
Enjoy. I know I did.

The silence was maddening, yet the buzzing in my ears drowned it all out. It was all coming so fast...his body pressed against mine and his hands holding my ownbehind my back. I felt so soft, helpless in his hands. He was much stronger than I, andwould not let me forget it.
"Enjoy this" I thought "It may not happen again"
I wanted to say something, but nothing escaped my lips but a moan. Oh...where did he learn that? And that? My hands were freed from his grip, and his began to roam my body. With every inch of skin he explored I shivered deep inside, wondering what was in store for me. Where was this going? Shouldn't I be able to guess?
I felt like I was dealing with an expert and suddenly my passion began to almost fizzle. I felt inadequate. Inexperienced. Virginal.
My pants slid down my legs, nearly taking my panties with them. He finished the job slowly, deliberately. Was this something he got off on...was he a panty man, or did he just like seeing them off? I wanted to ask, but nothing happened except for a full body blush which I tried my best to conceal. He smiled at me sweetly, reached up and pulled my shirt over my head in one swoop.
Of all days to not wear a bra. Way to go me.
A long labored breath escaped his lips. Apparently, I had done well. I giggled."Please don't" he said "It's cute. Cute is distracting". I bit my lip, trying my best not to laugh. He was concentrating, and who was I to distract him from the very important task at hand?
Another sigh from him before he continued running his hands across my goosebumps. He teased my inner thigh, just long enough to frustrate us both before moving onto fleshier endeavors. He leaned forward to rest his head on my stomach, his hands finding their way to my bum and his fingers kneading the ample flesh slowly and softly.
I ran my fingers through his thick hair, tousling it, fixing it, tousling it again. It seemed to stay that way, messy. I liked that about him. He was always mussing his hair but he never bothered to fix it. I guess that was my job. I was lost in thoughts of his hair when he stood up slowly, leaving a trail of quick, tiny kisses leading from my bellybutton to my neck...and scratches up my back. Best of both worlds, he is.
"Did that hurt?" he asked, absentmindedly.
"It did"
He kissed my lips in apology, but said nothing. Before I knew what was what, he lifted me up and gently laid me down. And then...the moment of truth. Every movement triggered a chemical reaction, a lightning strike of electrical current running through my veins. I tried to formulate a plan, I tried to say something, I tried to think but all I could do was be there, so gladly under him. So helpless with his hands once again pinning mine down, this time over my head. So stirred by his ragged breathing in my ear, the way my name sounded as it tumbled from his lips at just the right moment. All that came out of my mouth was breathless, voiceless, incoherent.
After what seemed like forever and two seconds at the same time, it came. My release was just that. Every fear, every disappointment, every pain, every man who was ever less than I deserved ceased to be. It all melted away in that moment, leaving me drained. My legs shaking, my body spent, my heart lightened.

Small

2006-10-24T18:21:00.000-07:00

Something happened to me today that I can't explain.

It's not like I've never been told to shut up before, but it has been a long time since someone hurled these words at me so forcefully.

"Shut the hell up" he growled, forcefully. My friend, spitting these words at me with contempt and something close to rage.

Something you should know about me before I continue:
I have tried long and hard to build myself up, to change into who I am from who I was. When I was younger I spent a good bit of time being bullied emotionally and physically, both at school and at home. Being told to shut up was something that was a regular thing for me...and it was maddening because I was almost always just trying to help, just trying to get my ideas out of my mind and into the world. I was always just trying to be heard, which is one of the few things about me that has not changed.

I am not a hard ass by any means (well, maybe just a little) but there are some things that I just cannot allow people to get away with. The aforementioned outburst is one of those things. I'm not ten years old, I'm not weak, and I'm not afraid of anyone...so if you're treating me with anything other than the respect that I feel I have earned, we have a problem.

When he told me to shut up, my first reaction was not anger. It was...I can't explain it. I just felt so small. So weak. So...ten years ago. Rather than jump across the room and beat the crap out of said friend, I squeaked out "You're being aggressive and making me uncomfortable. Unless you're going to apologize to me and mean it, you need to leave my home now."

He apologized, but I'm not sure if he meant it. I'm not sure if he understood the impact his words had on me. I'm not sure if anyone ever will.

I just know that I can't shake that feeling.

New Beginning

2006-10-23T00:01:00.000-07:00

I told myself:

"Self,
You should never start a serious blog. and by serious I mean one that isn't on Myspace, Xanga or Livejournal. Also, please...never confuse blogging with writing."

But seeing as how I never listen to anyone, I started this thing. Hopefully, no one will be bitterly disappointed in the writings that I post here.

But if you are...
suck it.