1) I like French Fries with Mayonnaise
2) I prefer to be alone most of the time
3) I read better with the TV on
4) My whole entire life is a Smith song (mostly I Want the One I can't Have)
5) I drink too much coffee and don't care.
My Holiday did not go exactly how I wanted it too. I slept mostly which was the plan, Homicide Hunter Holiday Marathon in between sleeping. Christmas Day I had company which I was happy about but upset that it interrupted my sleeping. I am much more like a feral cat than I thought. It wasn't until the evening so I did sleep most of the day, but I still felt kind of like I should be sleeping even though there is no reason for someone to sleep for like 3 days! Which by that time I had done. I am not sure what is wrong with me. It is completely me too. I know that. I have an idea and to be honest I should leave Pittsburgh the minute a good opportunity presents itself because my original theory now has confirmation.
Chirp made a good point, and trust me I hate when he is right, that sometimes you work with what you have. I am not sure if that is him saying he is not happy (I know he is not happy, that would mean the end of the world but I would venture he is as close as he can get) or if he saying I need to stop being so emo about it all. I am not sure. I just think I am emotionally broken (not like heart broken but like made incorrectly) so I can't process these things right.
I have no idea.
What I do know, I currently have a migraine, Carrie Fisher is dead (much like my hopes and dreams) and that I almost done with my coffee.
Stress is gone, nope having fun across the board.. For the first time in a long while this girl here doesn't care.. Helped my friend Kayla move on Saturday and it was just a laughfest from the very first minute we all got into the car. We are glorious messes and we kind of don't care. Fun was had and I enjoyed doggie sitting while Mel and the boys did the heavy lifting. I did the right thing and ate like a pig and napped and did not go to Hot Mass (aka Hot Mess) cause really I couldn't take much more laughing and well hot mess on Saturday. Sunday I lived the "Cat Life" and slept, ate, slept and ate some more.. Wore my pagan idol kitty ring from Vicky the whole time.. I love that ring..
Chirps birthday is on the third. Card is sent as well as gift. I'm sure he'll like as much as he can like anything..
It was summer.. I don't know what to know to say, you don't care anyway... Our propensity for words and well getting into trouble is amazing. I think its the stuff books are made of really. Books like Barfly, The Sheltering Sky, The Delta of The Venus, Trainspotting, The Lost Weekend, are you seeing a theme here. Although, it was interesting to be approached by someone wanting to pay for us both to go to bed with them... lol.. really talk about being magnets for strangeness.
Words are just so twisted.. yet there is no other way to explain it.. If only I could love you..
I feel so strange and giddy, like I should be in my Doc Martins and flannel shirt at a school dance debating the difference ; similarities between Voltaire and Rimbaud. Its so wrong it just can't be right. Other than the interruption of work its all poetry and words and art and conversation and people who converse in that same languid tongue. I have one piece being read in a lesbian art show.. Yes it is being nicely wrote on parchment in Calligraphy and has already been bid on at $175.00!! WTF I know right.. Just me being all cheesy doing my bad imitation of Ananias Nin but someone likes it. I'm gifting half to charity and half to a friend who needs it at the moment. I feel more me.
I'm desperately in love, in painful all consuming love. The kind of love where it hurts to draw breathe, I guess this is the kind of love that good art is drawn from. The need, that knowing of how doomed it is. How it can never be. How its over before it even began. Its just they way things go. I will fill my time with another's caresses maybe, or I will long for what will never be. I will pour my love into my art, but I will not let it kill me. Life is sometimes like a box of poisoned chocolates..
On a less emo note, I'm finding that all my hard work through college, (BA, MFA, PHD) is kind of moot at this point. Sure if I would have taken the look of "You can not be serious" that passed across my parents' faces when I told them I was majoring in English Literature seriously and chose a more uhm, less bullshit major like accounting or surgery my hard work (ok it wasn't hard) would have paid off. Yes, I can quote some fancy smancy lines, and I know how to use this ; properly. My paycheck on the other hand well it could be better.
I'm better off than most, sure it is just that I could have quit at degree one and got my job. I do get to write here and there for tiny scraps of money and I love it, although it would be nice to have that be my only job. I also remember telling the "rents" that if I couldn't go to college for what I wanted I was quitting and going to beauty school. Sometimes I can't help but think I made the wrong choice. Like what if I could be one of those really famous sought after stylists or have my own Tabitha like TV show and get paid to yell at people for having bad 80's hair?
Also would the government still ass rape me in taxes? If so would I be so amazingly rich that I wouldn't even notice it? Seriously, I need dependents. WTF does the government need so much money from me for every 2 weeks. I get nothing from them and never have. Any time I've needed anything I've never gone to Uncle Sam.. I've gone to the International Bank of Dad, or Crazy Annie. Seriously I'd like some food stamps the concept itself sounds neat and I would be FORCED to grocery shop. Here is X amount of dollars and guess what lazy bitch you can't spend it on nothing but food,so yeah you have to drag yourself out of bed and actually go to the grocery store because this is a card Thai Gourmet does not take!
I spilled beer, Fat Boo Boo ran to drink it. Does this make my cat an alcoholic? He seems to think he gets to drink with whomever I have over, or even when I'm home drinking by myself (no I am not an alcoholic seriously, its not Bukowski fest over here)At least he is not a beer snob and doesn't mind we've been hitting the PBR a little more than the Guinness as of late (no one complains about gifted beer its nice people stop over with presents)
Size 5 jeans fit perfectly! Not the stretchy ones either.. I am officially creeped out by this.. My plan is to eat a lot of PB&J.. I'm pretty sure that will get me back to a 7 and looking a bit less 90's heroin addict girl..Although I'm sure the rumors are pretty interesting...
New apartment rocks.. so far plans have been made to make it the work of art that it should be.. We've broke the flat in with cheap beer (PBR), some questionable activities and fancy language..
I'm hoping things continue on as they are.
I'm looking forward to 2 work trips this fall Seattle and don't laugh people I think it will be fun Texas.. Yep I'll get to see The Alamo again.. The Seattle trip could be about my transfer or it could just be a week of helping out, who the hell knows when the boys will finish their pissing contests and everyone caught in the middle can go on with life. In the meantime my confusion of where I will be and who I will be with continues.. At least I'll get to see a couple of friends while I'm there and pick up some goodies for my friends back here.
I'm looking forward to seeing Phil, mixed reactions from Chirps he is sort giving me the whole. "I'm indifferent about it" he knows I guess he'll make sure I have a good time but remain safe but he probably still wants him to get hit by a bus or something. Its not a subject that is discussed much. I think the status is if he ended up here it would be ok for him to call me or me there but he and Phil never speaking again.
I feel like a child of divorce...I'm still disappointed in Phil though..
Kittens! Yes a friend's cat has 5 kittens and there is this one that looks adorable in all the pictures I've seen.. I know I shouldn't but I want it.. it kind of looks like Mau-Mau.. I'm going to try to restrain myself here and not but..the cuteness is so hard to resist.
Love, my new place.. I'm planning my first official gathering for it..
So in 2 days, things change, new space and new start somewhat. I want so badly to believe that this is going to be a new leaf turned over and after a lot of sage being burned I am going to take a new approach and just go for it. Yeah 8 years comes to an end a fresh start in a new space begins and in a classic move and something I've never done instead of salvage as much as I can I'm kissing it all goodbye and starting all over again.
I'm also ditching my usual caution and over thinking things and just doing things. I want fun. I want what I want. I want drinks, and words, and never ending kisses and pleasures and to concentrate on my art. I want to thumb my nose at convention and start June out with a giant fuck you to the rules and feel things I've never felt. To drown in a sea of pleasure, to create like I've never created to be able to say "There is no such thing as art, just the body's memory of ecstasy."
I want to forget myself in it all...
There is just this feeling, I get sometimes. Like I'm rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic. Maybe I am to sensitive for this world, that I will never understand the need for people to be mean spirited or rude or just plain bitchy for no reason. Yet all those things live inside of me. I know I can do bad things. I can turn off my emotions, or possibly my common sense and just do what feels good, forget about the consequences and just get lost in it. Destroy the good things and then look at the rubble of it when I'm done and wonder why I did it. I don't play victim about it, I take my lumps, trust me I don't blame anyone but myself but I never do it to be malicious. I just get caught up in the pleasure of it, the touching, the kissing, the desire of it all.
I never am just mean. I don't know why an office or a job brings out the worst in people. I'm always torn at work between being that girl dancing on the bar bottle in hand saying to people "Fuck off piss ant" and being agreeable and professional. The atmosphere of my job kind of makes it hard to decide between the two extremes of my personality and my co-worker is pushing me to that dangerous drunk party girl level where I'm about to just get up and walk out on her and pull the work version of throwing my drink in her face. Where I get up and walk out and do other things that require me to be elsewhere in my job. I know it sounds somewhat childish and all but I think I have exhausted all other options.
The worst part is that abrupt change that happens when I suddenly have to start getting "real" on people instead of being nice and agreeable.
I hate this part, but why do people mistake niceness for weakness THE BITCH IS OFFICIALLY BACK...
There was no tenderness between us, even now when the chime goes off on my phone and I see the words on the screen. I think for a minute that I'm going to respond. I'm going to text back, "Yes, on my way." Then I stop myself, I know better. We would fuck, I would feel strange and empty after, go home shower, crawl into bed feeling guilty and sore. Knowing it was just an itch needing to scratched that I could have held out it for something with more meaning, that felt better.
Its robots with us. That is all it is. I'll ignore that text and stay in my own bed waiting for something better and not something fast.