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You are a bastard.

Oct. 5th, 2010 | 05:33 pm

It's that stitch, that thread abruptly yanked from the cloth of your heart, and the heart of everybody else. That pucker in the weave, warping and tugging the very fabric of your being. You feel as if at this point, everything may as well unravel.

So we huddle close, after a death in the family we choose. We cry and laugh together. We offer hugs because we need them so badly ourselves, pulling bodies close, pressure on the wound, a staunch on that gaping hole where a part of you used to be.

And we look, that look. A threat, a plea, and an agreement. It whispers and screams: Don't you leave me, too. Don't you hurt us like he just did. Please, don't make me come back here for you.

Because I can't do this again, not without you. Or without them.

But we can, you know, we know. We do carry on. Heavy with pain, fragile with tears, hauling one another off of the battlefield like we always have.

We survive.

But god dammit. It doesn't have to be like this. God. Fucking. Dammit.

I got this.

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Echo, echo.

Feb. 24th, 2009 | 06:23 am
location: Home. :)
mood: Huh.

Esther had already figured out that people, if you looked at them the right way, were nothing but assets: tools to gain from to further a personal agenda. She was a flatterer, destroyer, manipulator, and worked people and systems in a scary, clinical way by the time I met her, when she was 15 or 16. Strangely enough, I just listed every one of her redeeming qualities. I used to like what a sociopath she was, really.

She and I were in DECA together, which was the only real reason I knew or cared that she existed. I can't seem to get my mind off of her tonight.

I was good at DECA. Scary good. All it really required was the ability to memorize big, overarching theories of marketing and then memorize quick scenarios and arrange them in a way that was in concordance with the overarching theory that applied. Whether writing huge market research papers or sitting down for ten minutes with a scenario and then ten minutes with a judge, my eternal gift for memorization and regurgitation was used at its very best during competition.

The first year, I won first place in my series in our Chapter. At state, I got called to stage, meaning I was in the top twenty, but didn't go to internationals. I cried afterwards.

The second year, I won fifth place (despite being hospital-worthy sick on testing day and losing a third of my score... yes, I was that fucking good) in my series but opted to go on my marketing paper, which I got second place for at state and secured a slot for international competition.

I cried after that, too. But it was an entirely different kind of tears.

Two years of an easy-A class, a couple of hours of effort learning my series, a completely made up essay (that part made answering the follow-up questions easier, since there was no real facts to bounce them off of, just things that only existed on paper because I'd thought them up and put them there), and a few blow out fights with my theatre director, and I was in the top running numbers of one of the most rabid competitions high school has to offer. This isn't football. The only way to outperform is to be better with no interaction, in front of an impartial judge. At least in soccer you can kick the competition's ankles out from under them at risk of nothing but a flag.

Esther was in the same ranks. She had fought a lot harder for it, but a spot up top is still a spot up top, even if it means propping up everybody you ran down on the way and sitting on them.

Shortly put, we were the hot shit bullshitters going to the claws-out bullshit-fight of the biggest bullshitting competition in the fucking bullshit world.

Anaheim was alright. I mean, we were treated like none of us had ever been to a city before, but it was okay. School was in session, so Disney Land was empty except for hundreds of DECA kids (all well-groomed, all good looking, most from money... I lost track of how many times I eyed the perfect complexions and teeth thinking "how the fuck did I get here?"). It was fine, though, minus having to sneak out during free hours of the day to frantically smoke a cigarette or two... I had figured that getting caught smoking would probably hold a heavier penalty than the inevitable manslaughter that would occur if I didn't smoke at all. I didn't get caught, nobody asked questions, that isn't the point of this at all.

After competition (I didn't do too badly, but I'll never know my score... I know I probably didn't hit top international awards, but I do know that I probably made my top twenty... year one all over again, only this time with a bigger stage), there was the dance.

Oh God, the dance. Tens of thousands of teenagers, all good looking, all tense and horny, all far away from home in one big fuck-off room, grinding in the dark. It was kind of like hell, only with worse music. I got separated from the person who had my phone, so lost all track of time trying to find her. In the mix, I got grabbed by some boy. Some man. Too old for DECA, too free-spirited to be a part of this shit. A crasher. He gave me a drink of something that I decided not to drink again (don't worry, he'd warned me) after the first swig. There was a good conversation, what little we could manage in the chaos, and he kissed me. A very nice kiss. I left, thinking that maybe the other girl had as well.

On the shuttle, I realized I was going to be 15 minutes late for curfew. I knocked on my instructor's door upon reaching the hotel and she answered in a bathrobe. She hugged me, always the dramatically superficial woman that she was (Queen Bee of Bullshit Island), kissed my cheek, accepted my (true) explanation of why I was late, and sent me to bed.

Then the next day came.

I slept in because my weird marketing seminar was a late one and I figured I'd get through it on a cup of coffee and find food near the hotel afterwards. I was awoken by a knock on the door. Mr. Nerland and Mz. Busby were standing there: one looking concerned and gruff, the other concerned and victimized. As I caught a glimpse of the huge blade that was apparently about to fall to my neck and cut my head off, I already knew that Esther had done something.

They sat me down in the middle of the room. Demanded to know the truth, and why I lied. I honestly replied that I didn't know what they were talking about. It ran in circles until I found out that apparently I'd gotten wasted the night before and possibly slept with somebody, on school time.

News to me, I said. But the damage was done. Esther was very worried about me and had come to them because she was afraid I might do something else rash and ruin my life. Busby cried, that fake slag, like she had the right to be upset. She, the one who turned her back on me at the drop of a lie, accused me of abusing her trust and ruining the entire academic year for her. I'd never jockeyed to be her favourite, only kept myself facing forward and did the legwork she asked of me, but that hurt.

Then they called my mother. Nerland talked to her for a few minutes and handed the phone over to me. She was crying, telling me how proud she had been the day before and how ashamed she was now, how she didn't even know me. I hung up the phone, numb, realizing distantly that I'd been crying, too.

They put me under house arrest. I watched shitty television, read, and called Dee. They had taken my phone, so I used Esther's credit card to get a long distance call through to her, and she promptly called me back. We talked for hours about everything about the day and everything but.

Esther and Sarah came back to the room, apologetic, huggy. I wanted none of it.

Busby stopped by, making sad, understanding cow eyes at the poor lost child; her failed bullshit minion. I wanted none of her.

I wanted none of any of them.

I don't think my mother talked to me except when required for a month. I don't remember if I was punished, but I think the entire experience was punishment enough. That summer's yardwork regiment was particularly hellish, and I suspect the DECA ordeal had a little something to do with it.

Nerland moved on to be Board Director for our school system the next year. I can't help but think that the abrupt change in the way other administrators treated me. I never passed Esther in a hallway without getting a smug look of victory. She made her stage at Internationals the next year, but left without an award. Busby never looked at me again.

Strange, how a lie can do these things. Most lies are inconsequential. I may have been sitting on the bullshit throne at the top of the bullshit heap for awhile, but lying is so tiresome... so much to keep track of, so much to worry about at night. It's not for me.

I've just been wondering.

If a lie told at the most perfect time to destroy can cause so much damage with such little effort, I wonder if a little lie builds to the same effect when given time. A lie to save a relationship doesn't save a relationship. It just builds a new relationship that isn't true. The heartache at the end all has root in something, right? Why not whatever little lie it was?

And I've been thinking about happiness. I'm happy right now. Not jump for joy ecstatic all the time, mind you. I'm peaceful, my worries are few and faceable. I'm not scraping together all of my resources to get by. I'm surrounded by people I love who love me back. I had to work really hard to get myself here, and fucked up a lot on the way. But I'm happy and intend to stay this way.

I doubt Esther is happy. Not in this way. The only thing she ever seemed to crave, her only VICE seemed to be the need to defeat, the need to be number one. I can't imagine how horribly lonely it must be, and how ugly and black her soul must be getting after a few years of college. She landed a blow that still bums me out to think about (Angel got the earful earlier tonight), but no matter how big that blow was, it didn't keep me from getting happy.

And she has to live with what she did. Forever.

All I've had to do is live with what I didn't do, keep my face forward, and do the legwork. And look! It's working.

Strange world.

Sorry for the ramble, folks, but there it is.

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Believe. Something.

Nov. 27th, 2008 | 02:03 am
location: Home.
mood: thankfulStrong

I believe that everything in life happens not for a reason, but as something for us to learn about. To refuse to learn is to turn your back on life and the privilege that it is.

I believe that the 70s were the greatest period of American music. It was a time when it was enough to want to Rock and Roll (and it's a long way to the top if you want to). People were free to make love to whomever they wanted to; recently freed by the cultural marriage restraint of the 50s and 60s by their own culture, but it was still taboo enough to be dangerous. You didn't have to want to look me in the eye and tell me I'm not attractive, you could just pick up and hit the road and make love to your guitar and any sexy lady who happened across your path. I don't think it was the best lifestyle, but it produced the best music.

I believe that everybody has a vice, a bad habit, a downfall. Some people have punctuality and some people have honesty. Some people have caffeine, some cocaine, many of us have cigarettes. I believe that to take control and face your vices for what they are; to accept that you have a weakness, a shortcoming, something we'd rather not have in our lives, makes us better people.

And, for the record, I believe that showing up on time is one of the basic courtesies that is going by the wayside all across the west coast, and that's a tragedy.

I believe that the people who rail against what's happening to children today should be required to have them. You can't affect the future society without sitting in on the PTA and you can't understand modern parenting without having to fight for your child's right to defend themselves from other children, and sometimes adults.

I believe that honesty is an even better policy when it makes people angry. Honesty that shakes people to their core makes for better honesty than the honesty that any spineless bastard can spout.

I also believe that there is a way to portray startling honesty without being crass.

I believe that everybody cares too much what people in general think about them. This is not what humans are meant to be. Find your one, your four, even your six... And they are who matters. Everybody else is just white noise... A reflection of how you interact with the average human? Definitely. But I believe that it is more important to be ceaselessly loyal and good to those who will do the same for you than to be universally loved.

I believe that nobody reads enough. We can never read enough.

I believe in monogamy. Love freely, but give yourself only to the person you will stand before every person on the face of the planet and say, "I take pride in this person and have no apologies to make for a single thing about them, not a single trait to shy away from, and not a single flaw that I don't love just as much as their strengths". Anybody less doesn't deserve me, and people need to realize that anybody less doesn't deserve them.

I believe that if you say "For better or for worse" before dealing with some worse, you are a fool. And I know that if you leave the minute everything goes to tarnish, you are a liar. I believe that who you get to say your vows to should not be limited by gender, because no matter what deity or non-deity one follows, all loves deserve to be treated equally in the eyes of the law.

I believe that we all have hypocrisies built into us. In order to be a multi-faceted, well-thought person in a world as complicated as ours, there will be certain inconsistencies that are unavoidable. What is important is to listen to what your mind sees as truth, what your heart sees as beautiful, and what your soul feels is right in any given situation. We are only humans. It is our duty to do the best we can with what we are given.

I believe that there is no such thing as a "pro-abortion" political stance, only anti-choice.

I believe that passion is essential to survival. Existentialism is an interesting concept, but I'd rather live than exist. It's fashionable to not be phased by things anymore. People should get angry, people should laugh so hard their faces hurt, and people should cry. We should feel all things in the extremes and the minutia. We are only given this life, this mind, heart, and body, and we should soak in the one world we're given with every sense nature gave us.

I believe that we should admit when we are wrong, no matter how hard it is for some of us. (And please believe me, I have a very hard time with this one, no matter how strongly I believe it)

I believe that there is a big difference between who we are and what we do. Dietary, professional, recreational, and hundreds of other choices we make for ourselves reflect upon what's inside... but it's not what we are. All of these things are impermanent and don't matter as much to those we love as we'd like to think. This isn't to say that we shouldn't take pride in what we do, just that we shouldn't give it a bigger importance than it deserves.

I believe the world would be a better place without McDonalds, MTV, and pop music.

I believe that a person whose actions hurt us needs to be forgiven, even if they're not sorry. We hurt nobody more than ourselves carrying around resentment, fear, and hurt. Be mad. Throw things. Cry. Discuss. Bitch. Sulk. Do all of these things if you like, but Forgive, and when you forgive, please Forget.

I believe it is our duty to protect the ones we love from anything that would harm them, but not to extent that we harm them ourselves.

And I believe that no matter how hard we try, we can't protect anybody from themselves.

I believe that we all need to spend a few days alone every so often. If not to examine ourselves, but to learn how much we love those who we're surrounded by every day.

I believe that most people who read books on Taoism and Buddhism but refuse to take steps to practice are worse off for what they have read.

I believe these things because of my main belief: A life without faith in something; humanity, oneself, a religion, your loved ones, etc; is an empty life. So please, Believe something, because when stripped of all of the physical and all of the fact, there is so much more than people like to admit to themselves.

It may sound like I think I'm full of answers... but I'm not, really. Just certain truths I've found searching for answers in the middle of a lot of questions.

I believe that I still have a lot to learn.

I believe I will enjoy learning it.

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So.

Nov. 20th, 2008 | 12:13 am
location: Home.
mood: Bummed on Nigeria.

Noah Levine and my left wrist say I should forgive...

But when people profit from hurting children, I have a very hard time finding the place in my heart that can pity them for their blindness and forgive them for the hurt they cause.

Bummer day, man.

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Well.

Nov. 7th, 2008 | 12:54 am

Food poisoning is a bitch, but I think I finally kicked it. It's been a rough little patch of health, what with getting sent home from work (groan) and all.

So Barack Obama is President-elect. Whoa. That's pretty rad. I wonder how long until spell check acknowledges his name? If ever? Crazy.

Still sitting around waiting for the boyfriend to come home to me. I'm excited, it's less than a month. Then we start our own adventure. San Juan Island, New Zealand, Thailand, New York, etc.

Looking at culinary schools, looks like I'll be going in New Zealand and hopefully marking high enough to get into either CIA or... something equivalent. High marks are a must, however, since CIA costs almost as much as medical school for something that's only going to pay 30 dollars/hour and take away my life.

A professional film-style sound masterer and a professional chef. Oh Angel. We are never going to see one another ever again. That's why we have to enjoy now. I love you so much, babe.

I've been upright for almost an hour. My body is showing some remarkable tenacity in this whole deathly ill thing.

Rad.

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"Regarding: Life Sucks"

Oct. 23rd, 2008 | 02:19 pm

"Disclaimer: I'm writing this in an incredibly emotionally fragile state with no sleep in me. If I did sleep, the nightmares were kind enough to replicate being just like awake.

So I just got my phone functioning again. My phone charger dies about every 2 months, and last night was the night that it chose to do so. BUT NOT BEFORE ALL OF THIS OTHER SHIT HAPPENED SO I AM TYPING IN MY SARCASTIC HAPPY EXCITED VOICE.

Got off work, work was shitty and slow and I made Douchebag cook just because he manages to make no business look like endless amounts of business, and he needs to get trained up. Wandered over to Gowdy's where I hung out with Gowdy, Cakes (aka Gowdy's buddy Joel, as opposed to my buddy Joel. We often have "My buddy Joel" wars), and Tami.

All was well, until it wasn't. I wasn't drinking more than a typical "I'm training somebody to cook" training shift, when suddenly I felt the panic rising for no good goddamn reason. I did what most unhealthy people do in this situation, and put back a tall boy as fast as I could, and then the panic took over.

I remember things, blearily, but I remember them, but I was just frozen. Correction, I was walking and doing, but I really had no control over it. I just started booking my ass home, with Tom's bag because dumbass Tom left his dumbass journal and his dumbass bag in the basement, and people were angling towards reading it. I figured it's safest with me because I don't give a rat's ass what he writes in his girly private time. That has nothing to do with our friendship, and there is no rape like having somebody read your journal.

I digress.

I finally regained control standing over 86 on MLK, which means I was hiking back towards work, not straight home. Awesome. Everything suddenly became very clear. Adrenaline clear. Phone dead, no money for a cab, cold, dry-eyed, fingers shaking.

Then I started crying, and I couldn't stop. I'm so sick of these moments of feeling so intensely alone.

Went to Garrett's, which I completely forgot is also Alex's. So I ended up waking up Alex in my attempt to wake up Garrett, and he sat next to me on the top of his step while I had a total emotional breakdown.

I mean, I thought I'd had a total emotional breakdown sitting there until I got home and had the real one.

So my room is pretty thrashed, I fell over into my wire shelf, so my shoulder is hells of fucked up. I didn't really sleep, I'm running on fumes. I can't do this gracefully. I love you, I will wait for you. I'm trying, over here. I've been lying to you about how well I've been doing. I've been lying to everybody. Putting on the happy face, or even the somewhat chagrined "Life goes on" face. I've been faking the whole doing well thing better than I've actually been being well. It's been hell back here, but for some goddamn reason I'm too stubborn to admit that I need you.

So life sucks, but I love you. I'm sorry I missed all of your calls. You're wonderful. You're my Sun and Stars. You're my everything. I didn't know I could feel this way about anybody. I know people like to say shit like that all the time, but really, I thought the excitement was only something you got the first time around. I didn't know. You re-taught me joy.

And now I'm not doing well with not having it here.

I'm sorry.

My phone is charged, it will be on me 24/7, I will answer it.

I love you."

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Uploading takes like eight years.

Sep. 18th, 2008 | 03:26 pm

I miss you, baby.

Photobucket

So much. I'm glad you're doing well in Europe. Can't wait to hear all of your adventures when you come back to me.

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Oh hey, this thing...

Jul. 23rd, 2008 | 11:50 am

I forgot I even had this. My "Not important enough to put on the blog people subscribe to" blog.

In this case, it's my "I really don't want to step on the toes of my ex so I'm leaving this to elsewhere, so he can be a prissy douchebag elsewhere".

I'm in love.

This was most unexpected.

Hey there, Angel.

Photobucket

Photobucket

Missin' you already, doll. You'd better have the time of your life in Europe. Until I see you, anyway.

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One word survey.

Mar. 29th, 2008 | 09:42 pm

1. Where is your cell phone? None.
2. Your significant other? Possible.
3. Your hair? Floppy.
4. Your mother? Rad.
5. Your father? Whatever.
6. Your favorite thing? Obvious.
7. Your dream last night? Bookish.
8. Your favorite drink? Whiskey.
9. Your dream/goal? Publishers.
10. The room you're in? Dark.
11. Your ex? Confusing.
12. Your fear? Failure.
13. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Europe.
14. Where were you last night? Reading.
15. What you're not? Shy.
16. Muffins? Please.
17. One of your wish list items? Car.
18. Where you grew up? Dakota.
19. The last thing you did? Type.
20. What are you wearing? Comfy.
21. Your TV? TV?
22. Your pets? Boys.
23. Your computer? Computer?
24. Your life? Going.
25. Your mood? Restless.
26. Missing someone? Usually.
27. Your car? What?
28. Something you're not wearing? Ring.
29. Favorite store? Powell's.
30. Your summer? Near.
31. Like someone? Definitely.
32. Your favorite color? Black.
33. When is the last time you laughed? Yesterday.
34. Last time you cried? Whatever.
35. Who will/would re-post this? Dunno.

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To those I love...

Mar. 20th, 2008 | 03:52 am

Especially Adam, because wow...

I've been listening to "The Good Left Undone" by Rise Against almost obsessively lately. Go listen to it. It's amazing. Every time I listen to it, a new line means more. Anybody who knows me, really knows me, can appreciate it lyrically.

Every line is so good and depending on what my life is doing, a single line can be the entire song.

Dee, Ooshka, Adam- In a field where nothing grew but weeds, I found a flower at my feet.
Garrett, Tom - All because of you, I haven't slept in so long.
Me- Inside my hands these petals brown, dried up fallen to the ground... or There's a point from which we can't return.
Adam, Conley - All because of you, I believe in Angels.
Alex- I'll follow your voice, all you have to do is shout it out.
Garrett- So it could live, I walked away.

So good.

And we all know how much I appreciate The Prayer of the Refugee just because of the refrain...

Don't hold me up now,
I can stand my own ground.
I don't need your help, now.
You will let me down.

Not that I expect any of you to let me down... but don't hold me up. I can stand my own ground.

Listen to The Good Left Undone. Tell me what you think. I love you all.

What a fucking night.

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