if you knew my story word for word....

continuation of a texting conversation that you aren't privy to:

That's the way it goes though. Who doesn't want to feel like they are the only one? Who doesn't want to feel like you haven't been here with anyone else before. But it just gets more difficult with age. Unfortunately, what they can't see, is how they have never and you have never been there with them (or them with you) before. It's the most trying part of having a past, isn't it? The double edged sword. Had you never been in love or been infatuated prior...had you (or they) never felt love...it wouldn't mean the same to you (or to them).

I think I've lost my footing

26 Jul 07 Thursday 1:26 AM


It's all so very complicated, isn't it? And so you ask me. Your friend: the one who is willing to listen, is willing to give the advice, the one who will even tell you if you are so very wrong. But you know what happens? What happens is she cultivates friendships, she cultivates others relationships that somehow become everything. And then she wakes up wondering if she's the one left with nothing.

I have a friend, a very dear friend, who reminds me from time to time that I have no one to answer to. I have me, and me alone. The idea might be so beautiful if only I had more. It's the quest we're all on, really. The quest for something more than just us. The idea of something greater. And I've started to realize, who am I to limit myself to what this life currently has to offer? I explore (I really do), I question (more than you'll know), I watch (you've seen me), and yet I'm still left with nothing more than this: we are what we make of ourselves and unless we move forward and explore all that life has to offer; who are we, really?

Someone I really care about told me several years ago they could see me opening a door. The door, after years of movement, isn't just one, but a maze of doors. There are no right or wrong choices, only passages leading me back and forth through a maze of growth. Lately I wonder if I've come to a dead end only to discover now I must turn back. Tracing back through my footsteps with no one but myself to guide me. This step, that stumble, all the awkwardness. I think, is this as difficult for everyone else? Or am I the only one?

She.

You know, She's about had it. She doesn't believe in love anymore. This one, this girl, this Woman, believes that She is meant to be alone for the rest of her life. And its not exactly because a palm reader told her true love wouldn't occur until "late in life". It's because it doesn't appear to her that anyone gets her. In spite of everything, in spite of all her guy friends saying, you are so fantastic, you are so very wonderful, you are such a gift! ; in spite of everything, She realizes She is not for this time. She is not for this place. And so, She wishes to sleep away her entire life. She wishes to sleep away - not this entire month, not this entire year, but to sleep away her entire life to just not have to feel. To not have to feel at all, is a Godsend. If God was merciful, it wouldn't be asked of her. If God believed in her, it wouldn't have to be. The pain, the suffering, the hope...the if only. She is so very tired.

higher education? try, roadblock.

You know how for the last 4 years I have been all about school? And you know how I took the summer off and have been completely bored for the last several months? And you know how I thought I'd be in school for only a year longer? Well, I might be in school for another 2-3 years instead of the 1 year I thought. And you know why? Because I made A LOT of money last year, that's why. According to the government, my salary of $barelyscrapingby.00 equates to me being able to afford an extra $4200 (per semester) on my education (out of pocket) this year. And you know who doesn't have $4200 per semester to pay for school this year? I think you know where I'm going with this.

I really want my degree and eventually want my masters degree, but at this rate, I'll be a freakin' granny by the time I finish. I know all the "life is a learning experience" shit people throw at me, and I know all the "you shouldn't worry and be in such a hurry" jargin. But, I'll tell ya, this lady is tired. I want to finish. I want to be able to move forward and continue my real life sans school . However, it seems so much is working against me. I love school. Please, don't get me wrong. But I also want to be able to picture next year with a real vacation thrown in the mix. I want to be able to see myself actually enjoying all that I have learned. I want to see some real implementation and forward motion.

Bah. ugh. ick.

oh how I hate to admit that I've been looking at you...

Current mood: hot

For my ladies (you men can read if you want, but it's all pink and frilly with lust and flirting):

"Pink Champagne" makes me pretty damn happy. Optimistic about love for once. It reminds me of that first time you see someone you think is so very interesting and maybe a tad out of your league. That one guy, who walks by and all your girlfriends, despite different tastes in men, all turn to watch him. Man, do we need one those around East Nashville*. It reminds me of stolen glances, lust, heaving heart palpitations, flirty smiles, hands brushing accidentally, unfeigned innocence. Crushes. Love the old fashioned crush. Yummy. Most gals do. We crave them more than chocolate.

My ladies and I will be out this weekend. I'd suggest, if you live in this town, that you attempt a "walk by" my ladies and I. One of us might possibly be looking for a new crush or 2. I'm not saying me, I'm not saying anyone in particular. Maybe this heat is starting to get to me. Or maybe I just think it's time the tables were turned. Summer is typically a time of women dressed in almost nothing sweating in the summer heat....I'm saying it's time for men to be objectified. That's right. I'm talkin' catcalls to the men in this town. Shout it out ladies, shout it out.


With that being said. What's wrong with this town lately. It's been kinda boring. I'm just sayin'.

*my apologies to my male friends....you are all so very hot and delicious in your own individual ways.

step away from your computer...cont...

Last night I was reminded of an article I read on the nytimes about the found diary of a young Jewish girl during the depression. It was beautifully written and detailed her thoughts, her dreams, her sexual adventures both male and female (scandalous!), and some of her daily mundane habits. Quite simply, it was a peek inside the life of a woman and a life long forgotten.

My girlfriend, Camille, has some of her grandmother's diarys and she told me about some of the entries last night. It made me really think about how much has been lost now that everything we do is done so in a digital world. We blog online (guilty), we seldom have actual photos developed, we communicate via email. It made me wonder what we will leave behind for our grandchildren to discover? I, for one, realized the other night that I have over 100 posts on myspace alone. This doesn't even count the secret online diary I kept for a few years prior to myspace. Eventually, where will all of those thoughts go? Do I print them all out and save them for my children to find and read? Or do I allow them to disappear into the digital oblivion? I make an attempt to send letters here and there. I definitely write hand written thank you notes. I have a paper diary I keep within arms reach of my bed (sometimes I wake up with it tucked in the bed next to me).

The online journal/diary/blog isn't the only problem. When was the last time you took actual photographs and had them developed? When was the last time you didn't delete a "bad" photo from your camera? Camille pointed out some of her favorite photos are the ones from her childhood where she didn't even know the photo was being taken. Candid photos used to be a way of life and now everything is so very perfectly posed and if it's not, its deleted immediately. We have unknowingly enacted the law of photo veto! I recently read of a mobile phone with a camera focus designed specifically for women because women take the most self portraits. Wow.

And let's not even get started on music! I don't know about you, but I like to actually own a record. I actually enjoy reading the liner notes. I enjoy my iPod. I do. But I also like to thumb through records at Grimey's or Great Escape. I love the smell. I love the feel. I love the process of discovery! Unfortunately I haven't been able to do this for a while, but I am committed to get myself back in the groove, so to speak. (Well, once Jill gets my record player hooked up to the receiver).

Look. All I'm saying here is to think about what we're leaving behind. And from the looks of it, the majority of us aren't leaving shit.

I challenge you all:
-Pull out your old school writing utensils. Grab a sheet of paper. Write down some of your thoughts. Mail them, tuck them in a drawer, whatever.
-Go buy some actual film. You know, the kind you have to actually put in the camera. Take some photos. You know, the kind you can't delete immediately because you don't like how fat your face looks.
-Hook up your record player. Listen to something besides what's coming out of your computer or iPod. Can you hear the difference?
-Make a phone call. Or better yet, go visit someone on their front porch. (Our porch is always open for a visit.) Have an actual conversation. It's lovely, isn't it?

I'm not perfect. But I'm going to start doing my part. I hope you do the same.


I love my people.

ps. at least the digital world hasn't completely taken over literature. ah, books. How I love thee.

Waitin' Round to Die....

So. I suffer from depression. Don't we all? I'm beginning to think so. Sometimes I wonder how much of it is actually real and how much is all in my head. (pun intended). How much is chemical and how much of chemical is reality? Right?

I'm having a hard time lately. Seems not much is going right. Right?

And I grasp on to what my friends and my sweet, sweet Mom tell me:

"It shall pass"
"It will get better, it has to"
"No matter how poor you are, there's always soup" (from my Granny)
etc, etc.

And yet sometimes I seclude myself to my bed. My bed will make it all better.
And I think, if only I could smoke in my bed (inner dialogue, but what if I fell asleep with a cigarette burning? Do i want to be a 60's/70's cliche'?) If only my 2 addictions could become one (who am I kidding, my 3, let's include alcohol).
Alone. In bed. Smoke filling my room.

And other times that might just make it worse.

So. I go out.
Into the masses.
Fake smile.
Dosing myself with $3.00 Miller Lite drafts.
Beer (I can't afford)
Smiles (that don't come naturally)
and music.
Isn't there always music?
But it reminds me...I'm not crazy. They always remind me:

This.

Has.

Been.

Felt.

Before.

We all feel SO MUCH. (don't we?)

And then tonight, on my porch, my girls remind me that we're not in this alone. We will always (hopefully) have someone who knows what. Who can sense everything, without me or you saying a word.

And you remember, its all background. It's all where you came from and where you're going.

And we all (hopefully) can hold onto- THIS.

Just keep holding on.