Tuesday, October 7, 2008

there’s nothing I can do.

The great big heart I have
Apologizes too much
And worries about you too often.

The great big heart I have
Always puts you first
And myself second.

The great big heart I have
Believes in the power
And the everything that is us.

The great big heart I have
Understands it's not my choice
And it's not within my power.

The great big heart I have
Loves you
And craves your happiness.


The great big heart I have
Is always left
Wanting more
Needing more
And expecting too much.

Saturday, September 27, 2008

living and dying.

There's a lesson about living and dying. I don't exactly comprehend it all. I make an attempt at having a grasp on it, at least as far as I understand it. I'm not morbid (at least not abnormally so…) but my understanding is: When you know you're going to die, you only surround yourself with people who mean the most. You allow yourself the freedom of completely expressing your emotions. When you're living without the acknowledgment of death, you surround yourself with people who may or may not be just for the moment...People who may or may not understand exactly what you're about or where you've come from.

When you know you're dying, when you acknowledge your mortality, you make an effort to ensure the people you love; know you love them. And not just that, but you make sure they know why. Why can't we live our lives, our entire lives, with the idea of dying in mind? Not the scared and apprehensive idea of knowing we're going to die, but the grateful and loving idea of the end of our demise and the end of ourselves as our loved ones see us?

No matter what any one person believes, our, my, your impact on the people we surround ourselves with will miss the void that is us, me, you. And believe it or not, every person you come across during your life will be missed by you or someone.

And if that isn't a reason for being kind, being good, being generous, being just…then I don't know what is.

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

A lesson learned.

If you just take a look around your house, your apartment, your dwelling; it's pretty easy to say to yourself "I own all of this…" and it's a beautiful thing. You work, you earn money, you make a goal and you achieve it. The more difficult task is to look past the material objects and look deeper. We don't actually own our relationships, because you yourself can't simply "own" them.

Relationships aren't about "ownership", they're about a give and take. They're about reciprocation. They're about complete and total acceptance of another human being and accepting responsibility for your role in creating an understanding. Some of these relationships are ingrained in your being due to time spent and an acknowledgment of a shared past. Some of them, inexplicably, just exist from the very second you first exchanged a simple hello.

Relationships, romantic or otherwise, be they male/female, female/female, male/male, are the truest form of art in existence. They are a creation, worthy of the time put into them. Without time, there is nothing. Without work, they simply will not exist.

Over the course of several years, I believe I have come to terms with the difference in my relationships. I have truly great friendships, I have friends, I have family, I have acquaintances, I have loves. No matter what category I put these people in, I believe in giving my all, I believe in sharing, I believe in giving to the most exaggerated degree.

I do not, however, share my soul with everyone. I leave this most intimate view for only the few who I know won't take advantage. I sincerely hope these people know how much I treasure them. I hope they know how much I value their friendship.

And this, such a difficult and yet simple thing to put into words, has no tangible value whatsoever. But in my heart is worth more than everything.

Monday, July 7, 2008

Picture Book

Mom sent me some photos tonight and I have some words to share about my feelings regarding them, but I'm not exactly ready to share them with the masses (and by masses, I mean all of you who read my "blog").

I will simply say, we should speak to our parents, grandparents and great-grandparents before they are gone. They have stories, they've lived entire lives. We have no idea. We should ask questions. We should really care. We're the reason they existed (I know: I don't mean they're the reason we exist, the statement is intentional). We're the absolute proof of their love.

I have regrets when it comes to asking my family questions. Why did I allow certain subjects to be taboo?

I have had two Grandmothers pass. I have one still currently living. All 3 of my Grandfathers are no longer living. They all had (and have) so much wisdom to share and most of us take this for granted.

We don't know everything. I don't know everything.

Here are some photos my Mom sent me today.

Friday, July 4, 2008

for the record.

04 Jul 08 Friday 3:17 AM

I make a pretty solid attempt at living my life as a very stand up individual. I say what I think. I do what I feel. Sometimes, I'm honest to the point of brutality. I am direct. I attempt not to play games. For the most part, I am this person. I am this person who lives according to a set of self proclaimed guidelines and rules: personal ethics; if you will. I do not believe in abiding by societies' rules. It is not because I judge societies' rules; you can have them if you feel it necessary.

Lately, however, there has been some trivial controversy surrounding my ethics. There has been some tiny minute drama concerning my life-style choices. And I have been pretty upfront about my belief in rising above what some people perceive as poor choices. I have refused to be defensive. I have refused to take a part in the entire debacle. I am, for the most part, proud of myself. I am not always proud of specific choices I have made but I have a belief system and the ability to discern (for myself) whether or not I have been a good person or bad person. However, with all this being said, I am not made of stone. I feel. I hurt. I get angry. And no matter what, no matter what anyone says or what I say, you make your choice to believe in me. You make the choice to understand where I'm coming from or to forgive me for my grievances.

I am, exactly who I am. I am human. Just like you. And no matter what anyone says about me, I will keep going. I will persevere. You can't forever hurt me. I have more strength than any negativity you can throw my way. I have more strength than this life gives me credit for.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

I get where you're coming from...

When you're young and you feel you have so little to risk, it's easy to say things you aren't necessarily sure you believe in. You say things like, "I love you", when you've only known someone for a moment, you say things like, "let's move away together, it's easy to start over, you should go…"

But when you're a little older, the connections you have in this world become less fleeting, they become more real and complete connections and these connections aren't exactly something you're really able or ready to simply throw away on a whim.

I've been here 8 years now. Actually, 8 years almost exactly give or take a few days. And the people I have met here have become the threads woven into the tapestry that is my life. To even think about leaving would only cause an unraveling unlike any I've ever experienced.

If I ever say to you, "I'm going", If I ever say to you, "I'm over this", I only expect you to say, "I completely understand, I get where you're coming from", but I don't expect to hear you tell me to go.

And if you do, I'll just say, "I completely understand, I get where you're coming from."

Tuesday, May 6, 2008


Every once in a while you take that long forgotten path down memory lane and along the way you keep your eyes narrowly focused on the good and allow the bad to take the back seat on the journey. Doing so allows you to smile. Doing so allows you to forget all the sadness and all the pain. Doing so allows you to keep the crying, the hurt, the anger, completely stowed away. Who wants to remember the baggage anyway? It's so much better to keep the funny little inside jokes outside and the "fuck yous" and "go to hells" hidden and forgotten. But I think a little bit of our path becomes hazy if we choose to ignore those things.
Looking on the sunny side is good for our souls for a while, until we start to allow them to beat up on our souls in spite of growth and understanding. I say if you're angry, say so. If you're hurt, shout it out loud. But then move on and accept where you've been and what you've allowed yourself to go through. Unless it was utterly malicious, then you had a part in the wrong as well. You allowed yourself to be there. No one story is ever completely one-sided. It just always appears that way to you because that's the only frame of reference you have to work with. You make the choice to move on. You decide your path. And again, your path should always be about forward motion. You just have to decide the pace at which your forward motion progresses.

Monday, April 7, 2008


You make me feel fragile.
you make me feel fragile.
you do.
and I can't do anything about it.

I can ignore you.
I can make myself unavailable.
I can make a conscious effort to decide to not be where you are.
But none of it matters.
Not even the slightest of the tiniest bit.
Because no matter what I do,
No matter what I tell myself,
You have an impact on me and my emotions.
And I can't control any of it.

Sunday, April 6, 2008

I’m not scared. I’m scared.

I'm not scared of East Nashville in the middle of the night....actually, not in the middle, not at all, not the wee hours of the morning when all the drunks are driving home, not even the worst part of town where all the "undesireable people" we choose to ignore, live. I'm not scared of my own daily solitude, of time alone with my own thoughts. The danger doesn't really lie there. I'm scared of unending solitude...you know the "alone on a desert island" question. Yeah, NO, thanks...not even with my favorite book or music. I'm not scared of losing my family. I know they will always be in my heart. I'm scared of them thinking I don't care. I'm not scared of tap water, I'm scared of running out of water. I'm not scared of bill collectors, I'm scared of not having a roof over my head.

We all have so much to be scared of. Let's not let it be each other.

I love my family and friends, so very much. If I don't say it enough, I'm sorry. And this is my biggest fear of all.


Thursday, March 27, 2008

I know the first time I heard the B52’s.

I was at Cappy Malacek’s house. She had some old albums. She had a really bad record player. We listened, I was changed forever (and no it wasn’t Love Shack). It wasn’t necessarily the most poignant moment in my music appreciation history, but in my memory it speaks volumes nonetheless. (for those who don’t know, I’ll just say, my first concert ever was Three Dog Night. Mom and Dad took my sister Tina and i to the Austin Aqua Festival, and Three Dog Night was playing a concert that night. Mom and Dad also bought Tina and I each a 3/4 length sleeve black and white ringer tee or maybe they bought us one to share..all I know is that i was there and for reasons completely unknown to me, I remember it...)
Remembering where you were and who you were with when a specific moment occurred in your life isn’t the simplest of memories to place. Sometimes, it’s like it was yesterday, and other times, the memories become clouded in a distant, hazy fog mixed up with other memories, jumbled with dreams and spit out for you to wonder if it ever really happened at all.

I remember the first time I met specific people here in Nashville. I remember how and why and who; and well, how. But lately I’m wondering how it’s possible to see people off and on for years at a time and never really know who they are. I’ve seen people, I’ve skimmed the crowd...gaze inadvertently skipping over while my eyes were scanning the crowd for a "familiar" face. Suddenly, I am curious; was it because they became a fixture in my every day life? (or every night life?) or was it because I simply chose not to see?

As always, i have more to say; but as Rob would say (condescendingly) "I love drunk Michelle post-ums." And yes, Michelle is drunk and tomorrow this may or may not be deleted.


ps. It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day. You know how I feel.

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

You are a leader without any followers.

Haven't been sleeping very well and these are some of the things on my mind.

1. Went to see Control at the Belcourt over the weekend. First of all, the story is a superbly written account of Ian Curtis' rise and fall. If you know anything about Joy Division, I am sure you are already aware of his battle with depression and epilepsy. I am very often in awe of people who are so keenly and simultaneously aware of the beauty and ugliness of life. I think no matter what, even if you're not a fan of Joy Division, the film itself is just so gorgeously shot that it's worth a watch. First of all it's in super high contrast black and white, so visually it's really lovely. Secondly, each frame is perfectly composed and would work independently as a photographic still. Just lovely.
2. I recently discovered Pandora (I may be a little late on this one). Right now I'm listening to a Joy Division station/mix. Some tracks on the station are somewhat obvious (Joy Division Station thus far includes: New Order, The Cure, well, and Joy Division. Right now, Modern English is playing.) I am pretty much in love with this idea since I'm a little bored with my music selection. More experiments to come. I wonder what would happen if I put in something a little more obscure like Mulatu Astatke. Ok, so I did it. So far, so good. Damn. I love Pandora!
3. We have mice. They are driving me crazy. After 3 months of traps (that haven't caught a damn one) and poison in the basement, the landlord has finally hired a professional exterminator to come today and take care of the problem. I used to be one of those people who didn't want to kill them, but now I want those little bastards dead. We can hear them in the walls, scratching at the innards of this house throughout the night. It's the most annoying sound in the world. Also, for some irrational reason, I keep thinking they're gonna fall from the ceiling into my bed while I'm sleeping. It's dumb. I'm dumb. They're dumb.
4. I'm addicted to reading other peoples' blogs. Especially if they are smart. I like smart people. The only problem is unless you know them personally, it kinda creates a false intimacy. Like, because you are reading their thoughts, you know them and how their mind works. This is not the case, because some people formulate their thoughts specifically to get you to like them. Maybe, maybe not. I don't, per se. What I do is say exactly what I think and type it as it comes to me. Some people maybe edit themselves a little more...this 4 is dumb. I don't know why I'm saying this, but to further my case regarding me not being calculated when it comes to blogs, I'm gonna post it anyway.
5. I got sucked into stuffwhitepeoplelike. It's one of those obviously funny blogs with observations to make you question your own cleverness (or lack thereof).
6. I need a job. I have an interview today, so hopefully they'll see how smart, funny, good I am. It's worse than a freaking first date. I have about 30 minutes to convince them of my abilities. Ugh.
7. Insomnia is one of the worst afflictions you could ever wish on your worst enemy.
8. A Guatemalan man read my palm at Alley Cat this past Sunday. He said, in Spanish, "You are scared of falling in love."(duh, who the hell isn't. and if they aren't, what the hell is wrong with them?) He also said "You are a leader without any followers. But in time, you will have followers." This keeps resonating in my head, "You are a leader without any followers." "You are a leader without any followers." No shit. I don't really want followers. It makes me nervous. I am barely responsible enough for myself. I mean, I'm responsible, but not really. Case in point, It was such a lovely day Sunday that my girlfriends and I went to the neighborhood bar and drank from 4pm in the afternoon to last call at 3am. I guess because it was 2 4 1's, I was kinda being responsible. Also, I would just like to point out that I was able to understand the majority of what this man was saying throughout the entire evening. I was able to translate for my friends and even speak to him in Spanish for most of what I needed to say. I want to be fluent.

I have nothing else.


ps. More Joy Division. I love them.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

and I shall call this, "boys should have longer hair..."

Current mood:you can’t make me

You can't cut his hair. It's turned into his, you know, "thing". All the ladies say to him, "you have the prettiest hair".
I think you should leave it alone until I move on and just let it grow...and then we'll cut it together as kind of an umbilical cord type ceremonial ceremony?

He's not mine at all. But I can't help but anticipate the missing.
The smells. The sounds. The cuddles. The commands. The funniest funnies. Aw man, the funnies. The fart machine?

Thank you for loaning his love to me. Thank you for allowing me the time.


ps. I'll miss you too.

Friday, January 4, 2008

04 Jan 08 Friday 2:54 AM

We make the choices don’t we?
What do you want to drink? I’ll have a Miller Lite.
How many do you want? Until you stop asking.
How quick do I keep them coming? When I’m half done with this one, bring me another.
Do you want some water? What do I look like, a god damned camel?

And then you take a look around the bar and realize, what the fuck difference does it make? I’ve seen you, and you, and hey, that guy over there, and shit! There’s that one skanky girl who is always here!
But wait! Doesn’t that mean I’m always here too?

Give me another.

In the grand scheme of things it doesn’t matter. We’re talking about Nietzsche. And now about Kahn (not Chaka), and then suddenly about if Obama stands a chance against Clinton (quite obviously Hillary).
And again, what the fuck difference does it make?

You’re still the drunk ass bitch*, sitting on the other side of the bar.
For nothing.

Sweet dreams.

*any similarities to people real or otherwise represented in fantasy, not necessarily the fault nor intention of the writer. I am no drunk skanky bitch.

subtext. this will most likely be deleted in the morning.

subtext 2. I’ve been home drinking water all night.