December 12th, 2005
|01:06 pm - homebodies|
Rachel arrived on Wednesday night, late-late, to spend two weeks with me--she has a job at the Outback in Commerce, about forty minutes from here, working Christmas rush and making some damn good money (which kinda makes me wish I was working at Outback...ha!). For the first time in my life, the prospect of having somebody stay with me for an extended period of time didn't make me feel claustrophobic. I cleared out a giant hole in my closet for her to hang things, and cleaned up my house...and aside from the odd piles of stuff she and I both have that don't get to go back in closets (work clothes--bookbags--stacks of novels--smokethings), my cluttered little room has become a good home for two people, as long as I keep putting everything back as soon as I'm done with it. We've been keeping odd schedules--both of us working every night since she got here, me having my last day of class Thursday morning, her having to drive a long ways, my currently insane workout regimen. But I've gotten to spend time with her every day during lunchtime, and at night, and in the mornings before I get up to get myself ready for my days.
Yesterday, neither one of us had to work--and I had one of the absolute best days of my life doing basically nothing. We went to Target to buy a bunch of shit that we needed--plastic drawer/bin things to get her piles of extra clothes off my floor, other random shit. And than we went to PUBLIX--which made my day because I'm sick of buying cheap shit groceries at Kroger...and bought a plethora of food that I never knew I needed, and things to make good martinis. And we went and ate Mexicali, which satisfied my chips and salsa craving...and to Barnes and Noble to buy books (and I finally got a journal I'll actually write in). We came back to the house...and like big nerds...made martinis, sat down like big nerds on the couch in the living room, and read for hours. I absolutely LOVE that I can spend time with her like that--both of us together, doing our own things. And I love the little things that have started to emerge with us both living under one roof--tiny acts of kindness and love that I could have never experienced--or appreciated--in any other context, with any other person.
I'm quite ridiculously content.
I'm spending all day today studying for my IR final, because I'd like to make an A on it so that I can have an A in the class. I THINK that is the only final I have to take--which just about makes my life.
Oh good things and good days and good books and Green Ginger tea.
Current Mood: happy
Current Music: cell phone ringers
August 1st, 2005
|12:22 am - 31 july 2005|
I have never loved so strongly as I've loved my family and friends this summer. It's the recurring theme in my writing, in my journaling, in my conversation--and in the smiles on my face, the words that I speak, the way I carry myself.
If I've learned anything since I finished my Spring semester in May...it's that hope must be relentless, and love uncontidional; that growing up is beautiful, even when its ugly; that kindred spirits are rare, but undeniable and absolutely incredible presences; that there's a difference between "friends" and FRIENDS.
No matter what relationships I have, or don't have...no matter what I gain, or lose, or how hard it is...I should, and from this point forward WILL, always feel lucky. I feel as though, when push comes to shove, I need very little to survive--but what little I need seems to come in such great, gushing, neverending surges that it's remarkable.
There is so much in my head, and I'm still trying to process it. Trying to find a way to write it.
But Hutch is right, and sometimes there just aren't enough words.
Tomorrow...I go to the bank--apply for a credit card, and a $4000 student loan--and find information about UHAUL trucks. Tuesday, I ride with Assface to Athens, where I will get a job.
And then all of the sudden...it's like this new life has completely begun.
For the first time in my entire twenty years...I feel like I am making the right decision. That's not to say that it will be easy, or that some mornings I won't wake up hating myself and my spontaneous decision-making-process. It's not to say that I won't still want to be a princess from time to time, or that I'll have it made. Living in Athens will be hard as shit, and I'll be frustrated, and I'll be tired, and I'll be stressed...and at the end of the day, I know I won't be able to complain about it, because I will lie down in a bed that I bought, in a house that I'm paying for, in the company of a friend that I respect, in a city that is giving me a chance to stand up and show off who I have become, and who I am becoming. I will finally get the chance to experience a winter without a lingering insanity. I will finally get the chance to grow up. And I will be able to do it under the watchful eye of a handful of people that I trust mercilessly, that I adore passionately, that I love with all of my heart. And I will know that, though cliche as all hell...the pieces all came together when they should, and I reached a level of maturity when I could see the opportunity and truly sieze it. I wonder how many opportunities have slipped through my fingers because I didn't have all the pieces, because they were there, and it wasn't my time to take them.
I never promise not to make mistakes...but I promise to make them with grace and style, to take a deep breath and eat them one bite at a time.
God, I'm all over the place.
April 30th, 2005
~*Ladies and Gentlemen*~
This journal is now "friends only."
There were a lot of reasons for keeping this journal public...reasons which I hope to honor again in the future.
I had hoped that, by this point in time, I could have found the power to express myself and my thoughts and my feelings in the way I wanted to. I had hoped that, through this silly avenue, the people I love would be able to understand something about me that they didn't before. I had hoped that writing in this journal would allow people to see the changes I've made in my person, and that through those changes, we all could have grown up a little bit. Wishful thinking, right?
I wanted you to see me. But right now, you can't--or maybe I just can't speak your language.
Just the same, thankyou for coming, and I hope you've enjoyed the show.
the storms are raging on the rollin' sea
and on the highway of regret
the winds of change are blowing wild and free
you ain't seen nothing like me yet
April 16th, 2005
Rachel took this picture of me today, when she and I, and Kristyn, and
Meg, were headed downstairs to join Juan for an adventure in snoballs
and rum. It was my first New Orleans snoball experience, so this
was really a momentous occasion, because apparently snoballs is an
important cultural tradition that I've been missing. THEY HAD
COCONUT SNOBALLS. And it was amazing.
And since Hutch just recently taught me how to post pictures on
livejournal (the lesson made me giggle, because it made me think of
Jayne constantly fixing my computer tangles and Josh improving my
computer through the likes of snood...), I decided to test my skills.
December 25th, 2004
|01:07 am - So this is Christmas...|
Tonight I went to church, to watch Hurricane sing. I never go to church, and while I'm not sure I will become a regular customer, I do believe that I get something out of church--or, the silence and the release of my thoughts--that I don't get anywhere else. Since it's Christmas, the entire mass was done by candlelight, and as I looked out over all of these people--all these families, friends, neighbors, strangers--I started to cry and I haven't stopped since.
I have always considered myself invincible. Physical pain is nothing to me, emotional pain almost enjoyed for the fact that it forces change. I am a perfectionist, a control freak (over myself, and no one else), plagued by demons, struggling to free my heart. I don't admit when I'm hurt because I don't know how, so instead I let it boil, a personal and uncontrollable fire of anguish that rips at my insides and turns me in circles. I am stubborn, insistant on making all the mistakes myself, and sometimes shocked by end results that I predicted before I put myself in such a debacle. I am scared of strong love, because it makes me doubt my strength in myself. I take everything to extremes, whether its "losing a few pounds," my grades, my behaviors. I open my mouth in places I shouldn't, because I forget that not everyone wants to be attacked to be improved. I have incredible confidence in myself--but incredible doubt when I'm put in social situations and expected to relate. I've got a good heart, and I'd lay down and die for the people in my life, but I'm also the last person willing to sit quietly when I need to. I'm stoic, apathetic, quiet, not easily amused. I like having my personal space invaded. I love it when people remember my birthday, because it makes it special to me. I love spontaniety. But I'm dark at times, silent when my assurance is needed, lacking in patience, and quick to run when I feel myself starting to lower my guard. I'm an asshole and a half. I hurt people. I never do so with the intention of hurting people--rather, with the desire to protect some aspect of myself, but all I manage to do is lose people. I'm like an addicted gambler...I never know when to stop placing my bets, and in the end, I wind up broke as hell.
That said...I have some things to say. While some may point out that I'm merely doing this because my "life has gone to shit," I don't see that as the case. Rather, I refuse to let another moment go by without these certain points being said, because it's Christmas, because they matter to me, and because I'm going to suck up my pride and admit that, most of the time, ya'll are right. So here we go.
I want Lisa to know that I'm leaving her comment up, because its true...and that I appreciate her truths.
I want Greg and Larry to know that their messages to me over the course of the year, despite my long-felt hiatus from reality, were wonderful...and I appreciated them.
I want Jayne and Meg to know that I'm sure they're right, I do have demons and a horrible knack for being a bitch...but that, should the need arise, I will always be here.
I want Court to know that, every day, her friendship is a beacon for me...and that I only hope I return the favor with as much zest and love as I feel I receive.
I want Kassie to know that my conversations with her, our adventures, and all the long years of presence are unmatchable...and valuable.
I want my suitemates--Julie, Rachel, Tamela, Melissa--to know that I truly love living with all of them, the diversity, the sense of humor, and the way everyone looks out for one another.
I want Jenna to know that our weekend dinner and driving dates are often the highlights of my weeks...that I love how our friendship works that way. And...THANKYOU for the millions of grocery store runs that you so graciously give me.
I want Heather to know that I look up to her and respect her--in more ways than I feel are appropriate to list on a livejournal. Regardless, she is an inspiration to me.
I want my brothers to know that, in the past few years, their silent criticism of me has been a motivation to make myself better--because I'm sick of being a disappointment.
I want Katy to know that I look back on the time I spent with her, and I know I'm lucky, because she's amazing, and showed me how to love my life, and myself...and showed me what it means to truly love the people around you, love your family...immeasurable lessons, also innapropriate to list on a livejournal.
I want T to know that I learned more about myself in the course of our friendship than I ever hoped to learn about anything...and that her criticism of me is a propellant, a division in my life, and a great thing.
I want Katie Hall to know that the IMs she sent me over the year, even if I didn't get to respond to them, always made me laugh--and that the next time I get an IM from her, I'll hopefully answer her call to talk.
I want my parents to know that I respect them...that they are good parents...that they pushed me (finally) at exactly the right moment.
I want my "daughters," Madilene and Bethany, to know that I always see them watching me...that knowing their eyes follow me constantly makes me more aware of my baubles, more inclined towards that frozen heart thing of mine.
I want Sara to know that I was blown away by her refusal to quit on me...that it reminded me to not always have to run with my elbows out.
I want my Gma to know that I found my love for being pushed from the way she refused to back down against me, that she gave me my strength of character, and my bad attitude...but, by keeping me close to her all these years, she also gave me a vision into her life--and the power to change who I could be (Think: A Christmas Carol).
I want Kani to know that her faith in me--or, my strength--makes me remember that I have it when I forget it most. That she has that same strength, tenfold. I've been the victim of such strength too many times to count.
And there's still more...I'm sorry.
I want everyone to know that, this semester, I finished with a 3.7 GPA. While this may not mean a lot to most people, this is a huge achievement to me, given what I've done in the past. I needed to achieve something, needed to find a value in myself, needed to know I could push myself. But even if my grades are a personal effort, it was this entire year of 2005 that brought me to this place, that put me to where I could do this, and there are so many people who helped me get here.
Somebody wrote on my bathroom mirror, "I am beautiful." My family's cleaning ladies have not erased it...and neither have I. I wish it was written on my mirrors are school, because every day I see that, I remember. Those are three of the most valuable words I've ever received, and they--like so much else in my life--push me to be better.
I've always considered friendship something irrevokable, permanent, and unshakable. Though I am--let's face it--a pretty terrible friend sometimes...and even if I'm unforgivable, have hurt too many people, have ran away too often...these people I've shared my life with are people I admire, respect, and cherish. Even if I've lost them through my actions, even if I never speak to them again, I never want to let go of the impact they've had on my life...and one day, maybe I'll get my thousandth chance. If I'm lucky.
I realize I still have a lot of growing to do...and I'm trying, but sometimes I feel like I need a stun gun to get small details through my head.
I wrote a dozen letters this week, to everyone. I'm not going to mail them unless someone specifically asks for theirs. If your name is in this post...I have a letter for you. They vary in their contents. Comment or email me if you want yours.
This is the last post I'm going to make in this journal. It's turned into a virtual warzone. While I've loved the criticism and anger that people have pushed on me, I don't think anyone else quite sees it the way I do in that sense. There are also a bunch of people--Blake, Amy, Will, etc--that I'm not too sure I care about having an eye into my life anymore. It's served its purpose, kept me in contact with a lot of people, but I'm sure it's also caused a lot of pain. I'm trying to cut back. : ) Like a New Year's diet, right? Regardless...I feel its only appropriate for this to be my final disappearing act.
I love ya'll...Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year's.
Current Mood: truthful
Current Music: Joni
October 26th, 2004
Friends are painful things.
It could be just me...but for the most part, I have some very good friends.
I wish everybody would just chill out.
Current Mood: contemplative
Current Music: Erin
September 27th, 2004
|02:56 am - I always get in trouble for what I write.|
Everybody should know that I'm an asshole.
And when I'm hurt or upset I flail in discomfort, and I shut down, and I hole up, and I stop talking.
And that when I love, I love too hard. I need strong arms to fall into.
And when I'm sick and tired...tired, and getting sick...I get grumpy, and I feel like I act like a three year old. I need to be yelled at, told to not behave that way...even though I'm capable of telling myself those same things.
And when I'm honest, I'm too honest, too blunt, too real--which is why my honesty has layers. Levels. I try to avoid honesty, because I'm horrified of the power just a handful of honest words can carry. Words, to me, are like this city--you can never underestimate the danger in either unless you're going out to lose it all.
And when I'm scared, I get stupid, because I don't like being scared, and I'd rather make an ass out of myself than admit even the slightest level of discomfort. I feel like fear takes away from the respect I so constantly demand, so I choose not to feel it--until I fear my ability to overcome the consequences of being cocky.
So when I take a second to look at how much I let you in, my heart starts to race and I feel. I choke on my words and worry about how much, if any, I should have held back. I wonder about what I said and what I didn't say, and I wonder if I should have just keep that small part of myself away from you because admitting that I want you to have it is admitting that there's strength in these feelings. Admitting that I'm willing to show you all these parts of me, these layers. Admitting that there is nothing more to me than this...and I'm horrified that this...me...is never enough.
Even when it's all I've got.
Current Mood: horribly irate and irrational and sick and tired and upset. enough?
Current Music: Lisa Loeb: How
August 23rd, 2004
|11:29 pm - Cross to Bear|
Regardless of the angles I examine it from…or the distance I cover, hoping to notice even a slight change in situation…ultimately, the blame remains mine. I will always keep that blame. I cannot let it go, nor am I even sure the person I would be without it, without feeling the pressure of it against my spine whenever I breathe too deeply, too freely. Everybody carries their cross to bear, but I know I carry more than my share, burdens I gladly accepted, confident in my strength to heave the load. I’ve lugged them so far now that I barely feel their weight, unless one shifts…breaks…jostles…and then I feel them all, sharp pains jutting into exposed ribs, edges of agony I volunteered myself to scraping against my flesh, burning. To fix just one, to put one back into order, means carefully shifting every last piece of sorrow…a careful balancing act I have mastered after miles of walking beneath it, on my own. They are not my burdens. They never were…even the miles beneath me, the years I’ve held them over my head so silently, so strongly, does not make them mine. I took them, shared their weight, and wound up with the heavy end, the entirety. I should abandon them…lean forward and let the dead weight cascade off my shoulders, battering the earth with their rigid hurt…but I cannot do it. No matter how hard it becomes, I can’t let them go. I carry them as proof of my existence, of my strength. I carry them because I know I could not walk on my own two feet without them. I carry them because I am tough shit, because I do not break, because I can walk the tightrope with a thousand pounds of bullshit wrapped around me and still, I will not falter…I will keep going, I will smile while doing it, and let nobody see just how much it hurts. You may see my load, but you will never see my tears. You can see my muscle, but never what it took to get it there. It’s not my style to be so revealing, not in my nature to walk away from a duty. A responsibility. And that’s what it is—my job. I took this position years ago and I can’t give it up, not even when the company dissipates, when the people evaporate, when the group dispenses. I’ll still be employed by my demons, commanded to keep walking, never told I could rest.
And it hurts so bad sometimes, though I feel like it shouldn’t, though it seems that if I knew the challenges and took the offer anyways, that I should not complain. But when I watch people deliberately drive sticks into my gut…twisting, wrenching…what am I supposed to feel? You want me to be honest, you want me to be open, yet you fuck me when I open my mouth…tell me to suck it up—you’re better than that—you chose this path—you made your mistakes. Live with them. I can’t, don’t you see? The farther I get from start, the longer I keep walking, the more it hurts, the more bound I feel, and strangely, the more unable to rest I become.
I buried the rage long ago…having no outlet, no means, to release it. No company could contain it, and I trusted no person to contain me. Instead it stays, hidden, concealed, but boiling just the same. You know what I’m hiding? A lifetime’s worth of misplaced pain. Exposure never seemed safe enough, and no ear I spoke to cared to know the details. But why scream about it? I can suck it up. I was born to suck it up. Keep it coming…I don’t know how to quit.
Current Mood: sick
Current Music: Nelly Furtado: Try
August 22nd, 2004
|03:13 pm - a la weekend?|
I spent the weekend up at Berry. Friday night was a bunch of people I didn't know and only a handful of those people drinking kinda creeps me out. I hid on the porch for the majority of Friday evening. But last night was really, really sweet.
After reaching a point of slight social discomfort, Katy rounded up the majority of the people in her house (another packed living room...) to go to another party. Considering my mindset, I really had no interest in leaving the house. So while people streamed out the door, I plopped myself down on the couch with Lisa and her friend Lindsey, whom I barely knew, and instructed them not to ditch me. And even though I haven't hung out with Lisa on a semi one-on-one basis like that in years...and that I still harbored strangeness towards Lindsey...I could not have found a more perfect way to pass the evening after my original plans had fallen through. We ended up drinking...of course...and playing some card game revolving around drinking. For a while, Lisa Loeb was on the stereo, which made me miss Jayne, because I think only Jayne could appreciate the total whackness of drinking to something as crazy as Lisa Loeb (like playing crazy eight's, watching Grease, and drinking Jack...). The evening progressed into a lot of drunken conversations, some good bonding time between Lindsey and I, and I think I totally scrapped my inhibitions and sang (horribly, probably...) while Lisa played the guitar. I honestly didn't expect to have much fun last night, and I really had wanted to spend the evening in other company...but c'est la vie. Lisa and Lindsey took good care of me.
Almost like camping, Larry. But not quite. : )
I am now home...much earlier than I ever anticipated being home...and having run, eaten something, and showered, I feel ready to start my day--at 307PM. I'm supposed to go to a family dinner tonight...since I leave for school in two days...but somehow I'm not entirely sure that whole Event will work out the way Momma hopes it will.
So I'm going to go watch little girl movies by myself.
I have to distract myself.
I cannot believe that the summer is almost over.
I'm not ready to be done yet.
Current Mood: pleasant
Current Music: Collective Soul
July 22nd, 2004
|09:07 pm - Tender is my heart|
Court's right--days are being lost. I wake up at the beginning of a week dreading the days of mindless activities spread before me like a giant baby-sitting buffet, and now before I know it, I'm on the eve of yet another weekend. I know I'm working hard, and I need the money, but it's hard to decide if my summer has been good or bad when all it's been is sweet preteens and infants and trips to the bank. If I don't think about it, I feel okay...but of course it only takes one sharp kick in the brain to release the gallon of poisonous thoughts stored there. If I'd done nothing but play all summer, would I feel okay when I went back to school? Will I feel okay back at school after this summer?
I can't believe it's already July. It seems to me like a matter of days ago that we buried Duck...that I just met the families I baby-sit for...that so many things were patched up. I came home on a mission of sorts. Did I achieve any of it?
I wanted this summer to change my life. I wanted this summer to magically turn me around and make me something else. I wanted this summer to free me, and while I feel older and more mature and more responsible, I'm no more free than the first hundred slaves. I constantly wonder what I'm looking for, and if I've found it. If I haven't found it, where--and when--will I?
Heather mentioned something to me a while back. I'm not sure anymore of the exact context of the comment, but I remember feeling somewhat stunned by it's passing. She told me, "You'll be great, if somebody can stand the wait." I know it's an honest comment, and I trust and believe in Heather's words. But the whispers behind that phrase are what I hear most often in the back of my mind--that I'm not great now. What if I'm still just fucking it all up? What if I've only managed to dangle tiny lures out onto those around me? I can't even explain it well. But...if I'm not great now, what will happen when--if--I someday get there? The changes I've experienced in my life do nothing if not to remind me how fleeting almost everything around me truly can be. Emotions and possessions once guarded so carefully become nothing but trash almost instantly, and the people once so loved become the demons of a past well-lived. I feel pressed to predict what I can't even decipher, and I'm hesitant to make any decisions based on the possibility of change. I wonder if that's a healthy way to live--never making full, complete commitments in anticipation of future alterations. I tend not to make decisions unless I can make them with conviction and authority. I feel it makes my word more honorable.
But sometimes honor isn't important, and an instant answer is. I can't give instant answers. So other people predict my greatness, and I get queasy, and I wonder if I'll succeed--or disappoint.
Or, more importantly...if my brain is hardwired to disappoint. I'm good at disappointment.
Current Mood: contemplative
Current Music: Blur: Tender