Saturday, November 22, 2008

The Trouble

My life is not nearly as dramatic and sad as it seems when I write here. I write here when the mood strikes and oftentimes, lately, it appears, that is not a good mood. I don't like being ignored. I don't like feeling invisible. He's making me feel invisible. I am beginning to wonder if perhaps I am invisible. Kevin didn't see me last night either. Maybe I am just fading away in to oblivion and obscurity and some other o word that I don't know and never will unless I spent a little less time trying to get noticed and a little more time looking at a webster's dictionary.

The truth about the fact is, no matter what I tell almost anyone else, in the end, I will always choose John. I am still figuring out how to break this to you. I am still figuring out how you will take it. Because I like you. I think you are pretty great. Really. You are sweet.

But John has my heart, quite wholy and competely, as much as it kills me. He took without even trying, and perhaps that is wherein the trouble is.

Isn't it awful?

Saturday, November 1, 2008

Call It Off

This song reminds me of you, and how I feel about you, and how I feel about the way I feel about you.

It makes my stomach heavy.

Not as heavy as when I listen to your songs about her,

but heavy, and sick.

I won't regret saying this,

this thing,

that I'm saying.

Is it better than keeping my mouth shut?

That goes without saying.


I'm glad I have had the courage to say things that should be said. I am happy with the direction my life is moving. Perhaps though it is a lack of direction?

I don't know what I want to do.

I want to fill my life with chairs and theater and simple, beautiful music, with books and photo strips of you and me. We look good in those photos, even in the pictures that aren't that good, of either of us. We look good.

I wish there was a mathematical formula, that I could figure out, that would make it all okay for you. So you wouldn't care about the difference, between you and me, and the big difference, that I am not her.

I think about her every day. No matter how hard I try to avoid it. I think about her and the pieces of my broken heart fall at her feet and I ache.

My heart breaks for your broken heart.


That's how it goes. I will feel this way about you, and you will feel that way about her, and it will remain that way.










Maybe I woulda been something you'd be good at.
Maybe you woulda been something I'd be good at.

And when I think about this song, and how much I like it, and I listen to it, and think of everything wrong, I remember as the song ends, that it is just a song.

And My Number comes on, and it's good. My Number comes to the rescue.

It really IS a silly time to learn to swim when you start to drown.


Friday, October 24, 2008

arts and crafts

I need to stop crafting in bed, especially before bed.

especially with feathers and fur and messy stuff.

Thursday, October 16, 2008


I am right now, sitting in a chair that I like a lot. It is enormous, and was at one point, white. I am sure of it. But it's been good and sat in, so it's not quite white anymore. But I like this chair a lot. It's warm, and comfortable. And it's in a room where I can listen to Bright Eyes and not feel like I am bothering anyone.

Not everyone likes Bright Eyes, you know.

But I do. Bright Eyes reminds me of Mariko. I miss Mariko. Mariko was the only thing about high school that made me sane.


So yesterday, I am at the Mexican place, getting my nachos, listening to my headphones, and a song comes on. and I lost my appetite entirely. I felt like puking. It was utterly and entirely ridiculous. How a song can have this effect on me, I am not entirely sure. But I really didn't want those nachos anymore. But I was fucked, because I had already paid for them. It was bad news bears. But I just kept listening to this song, and getting sicker and sicker and sicker. I mean, I know why I was sick. My stomach was ablaze with jealousy, and anger.

Songs are powerful things, you know.

I have a feeling that A and B have the same reasons for wanting to remain stagnant.


In any case: There is a chair in John's garage that I am totally in love with. I have thought about it pretty much non-stop-ish since I saw it.

It is a beautiful chair.

I'm hungry.


Monday, October 13, 2008


I don't care about the reasons why this shouldn't be.

The reasons it should are bigger and better, and going to beat those other reasons up.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008


I like it. I want to be called it.

All the time. I like hearing it in songs, I like writing it in songs. I think it is sweet.

"you say, baby, I only want to make you happy."

See? It's more charming than a prince.

I should have gone to bed hours ago. But I am in not a bed mood. I need to wake up a little earlier than usual to go to the post office.

That is the first time in my life that I have ever had to type post office.

I accidentally really want to watch Romeo + Juliet... eek.

Alright Baby, this is what's up:

I had the most phenomenal night last night. Everything about it had somehow escaped from a movie screen. It was so good that it made up for the disgustxorz thing that happened to me on the train.

It was so good good.

"And if most people fade to gray and black, you'll fade to light blue"

That's how I feel right now. I am determined to sing those words.


Sunday, August 31, 2008

I'll tell you what it is...

What is it, when your heart feels like its going to beat out of your chest, and your stomach is light and fluttery? That feeling when just an image or series of images, even, are all it takes to make this feeling occur? When the muscles in your arms and legs get weak, and you cannot keep from smiling?


You were there.

You've always (truly always, since the day I first saw you,) been interesting, and intriguing to me.

You are brilliant! I'm sure you know you are. But you are. Really.

Even when you didn't need to, you have always showed me such kindness. In the winter, when I didn't have a scarf and I was cold, you provided me with one, that I still have, and of course waiting around for me to pick up my phone.

Your sense of humor. You are so witty, and charming.

You are really very handsome. Dashing, is the word I use most often.

You're unusual. You make me see other perspectives, and you make me want to do things in new ways. You inspire me.

I really like the dynamic we have in the time we spend together. You make me laugh, you make me think, you make me do those things simultaneously.


It's love.


"I believe in love, no matter how fleeting or tragic. I am 18 and all I want to do is surrender."

Lifetime movies are movies, too... For the most part.

Saturday, August 9, 2008

stomp clap

stomp clap clap
stomp clap clap clap
stomp clap
stomp clap

That image is burned into my brain. Wonderful.

I am totally heart over brain smitten.


Friday, August 8, 2008


Alright guys, this is no time for joking. I got a fucking Macbook. My laptop exploded in a fit of stupidity and not-working, and I told my mom and she said, "Do you want a MacBook?" and I said, "Uh. Yes."

The money came out of my college fund, but this is the most ballin' computer, and the best part is, that I am the one who was responsible for buying it, so I know all the details. It is brand new, not some chump refurbished break-a-thon computer. I am completely smitten with this machine. It is totally what I have needed my whole life. It is what was missing. I thought I needed love, hah, I needed a MacBook. I am still in the figuring it out stage, but this works for me. We will slowly find things out about each other and fall deeper and deeper in love.

The only issue is that all of my music is with God now, so I will have to work at getting it back together. No stress. I have so much more room on my computer, now.

My hair looks and feels so much better.

I am excited!

Good things are afoot!

Sunday, July 20, 2008

What happened:

I felt really pretty, and confident, and I wanted to get on the train, and have some really good looking boy just fall in love with me. Really, I didn't want him to fall in love with me, but you know, to just be stricken.. But when I tried to picture him, what I'd want him to look like, he was you.

So. That was strange.

The Word.


Those are words I like, because I like the way they sound, or what they mean. My mouth likes those words.

I really wanted to say "Count up," "Walk it down," "Pick it up," "Watch the set," among various other crew related phrases, today. I wanted to be on the water. I miss the sounds of the creaky old Minnesota, shit, I even miss the Burnham's Plan. Those boats were so killer. What lovely boats, indeed. I miss the smell of the river. I miss carrying around wrenches.


I got my FOOL tattoo. I really like it. They guy who did it did a really great job. I am really excited.

Only one more week-ish.

I really like a lot of bands I had forgotten I liked.

I am going to buy some fishnets.

I need another job.


Thursday, July 17, 2008

I may be a begger and you may be the queen.

She remembers the last time she saw you, before you left, and the kisses you both kept stealing from each other's mouths. She is content in thinking you really did go inside as she pedaled away, and that you did not step back outside after she believed you gone, to watch her go, instead.

Riding, she thinks about wanting to have met you under more magical circumstances. Wanting to have met you with dirt and grit under her nails, partaking in creativity of her own accord, not turning out assignments based on prompts. (Although, it is a truth the understands, that she works better this way; having a direction, and directives, and a deadline makes her work.) She is terrible at giving herself time to make things. The only things she has made recently, albeit really pretty, were the disc jackets to mix CD's for the various boys that thrust themselves into her life. She would never do this for you. It would make her feel juvenile, and she's already so young.

She pictures it, though, this chance encounter that has never occurred, and will not ever occur. You are in the White Hen Pantry, at 2 AM, and you are buying ice cream. She knows you would be talking to the clerk, whose name she would not at the time know, and would later not remember. She has been in her room, her corner, painting by the wrong numbers with the paints, and with her fingers. She got the sudden and uncontrollable desire for a Snicker's Ice Cream Bar, a feeling that often overtakes her but that she rarely acts upon. This is different, though. She is wearing the raggedy torn up jeans that her old friends wrote on, and orange converse. Her shirt doesn't matter, she didn't have a lot of special shirts, at the time. She would have been chronologically younger, but in her head, for the sake of this meeting, only you are younger, and she is the same age, although it is years and years and years ago. She takes her CD player, with some music that will undoubtedly find itself too loud to go from the headphones to her ears without escaping into the cool night. Her fingertips are caked in earth tone acrylic paints. She walks in the door, and smiles politely, because she has not seen you before, and does not know you yet. She gets her Snicker's Ice Cream Bar, and goes toward the counter. You are laughing and talking to the clerk. Her wild red hair and the paint on her fingers and hands, and some so far up as her bare shoulder would intrigue you, because in the world where she pretends to know you, she thinks you are drawn to people who exude creativity. Right know it is coming out of her ears, and when she opens her mouth to partake in pleasantries, it dribbles uncontrollably from the sides of her mouth. She takes no notice, only you would see things like that. You make a comment about her fingers, and she laughs, embarrassed, and explains, "I was painting by numbers." You look disappointed. She continues, "I paint by the wrong numbers, with my fingers." You find this excusable, and you ask how that might work, and she will gladly explain it. You begin walking home, and she won't speak up that she lives in a different, because she will like the way you speak, and smile. So she follows you the half block to your front door, and you begin to go inside. She stands and says goodbye, and names are not exchanged, or numbers, or anything that would make this encounter extend into other days and nights.

I accidentally interrupted the flow, so now back to your regular blog programming.

I am feeling oddly somber. I went to bed early, and so woke up early. When I woke up I read the second chapter from the e-mail app in my phone. It's beautiful. I will tell him this later.

I hadn't caught the sunrise from this end in a very long time, and maybe in a little while, I will collect quarters and try to go to savor and finish the rest of what I am reading, without the normal distractions.

I am done.

Monday, July 14, 2008

P P P Panic

I do not like this at all. I do not like that I am finding it difficult if not downright impossible to be distracted. I have never dealt with this before. I have a one track mind, and while your mind has limitless tracks it appears I am not on a single one of them. It appears.

I am probably wrong. But effort (albeit meager) on my part has gone unreturned. It is really frustrating that I take these things so personally. You are probably busy. But fuck. This is not a good feeling.

The one distraction that is proving to work is this Mike character. He is funny. I am excited for our Cultural hipster evening. I hope we get along. I also hope he is not a mutant or a woman.

Art has been an enormous distraction. Beautiful. I am loving this thing I am making. Also, I am thinking about being an artist's model, and diving hardcore into the art world for a while.

Sara and I were talking about be going to Milwaukee, and I am really, truly, strongly considering it. Or maybe San Francisco with Aidan. I am not feeling this city, I need a vacation, away from my family, and from the things I don't like. I want to defiantly do it when you come back, but I doubtfully will. I am not petty.

Anyhow, I sorted my bookmarks today, and feel like sharing some of my favorite bits...

I really like this one. It is just so blatant and beautiful. I find myself feeling that way a lot of the time. Or I did a lot in high school and that junk. I also completely and entirely adore how colorful it is. The large lettering and then the cursive. Beaut!

This is probably from a movie or some such, and I adore it, absolutely adore it. I love the way the wings look, I love the back ground and setting. It drives me wild. I remember almost not bookmarking it, but thinking one day I will probably like it a lot more. I am glad I did, because I was right. It reminds of me City of Angels, and Iris. And now I want to listen to that album. So I am going to.

This one of course reminds me of you. It's pretty lame how much it does, actually. Yeah. Fuck.
This one falls into the same catagory. 'Nuff said.

Who can argue with sweet nothings on cement? Not me.


I like this band.

I wanna wake up where you are.

Yikes. I am having serious trouble editing this shit.

So I quit.


Sunday, July 13, 2008


I am not too upset about all the alone time I am accidentally allowing myself, but I am starting to feel lonely.

The time really just speeds by, when I am listening to music I really like, and doing things that I like to do. I have a lot to do. I am going to see Sara and Too Much Light tonight, which will be good. I think she'll really like it, especially with her Self-Realism ideas.

I miss John. He is gone, in New Jersey, but I have been reading a lot of the things he writes, and I am really enjoying them. They are really beautiful.

Anyhow: I am way too distracted to blog.

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Far and Near (I have a big beach bum)

Today, you are very far away from me. It is not a favored situation. I miss you.

I went to the beach with Sara, and it was so much fun. I biked and swam and had a great time. I smelled like sun, and it was so lovely.

I don't know what else.

That's all.

Saturday, July 5, 2008

I'll Never Know If I Go

Today I was excessively moody. I was hurt when told to go. I was burned. Since then I have been feeling introverted and lonely. I am at least 80% sure you meant really nothing by it. I have been spending a lot of time with you lately. A lot of time. Everyone needs to be alone. You hadn't been alone in your house for a long time. I understand.

But for whatever reason, I just wanted to be gone. I need four dollars. I wanted to blast in front of a bus. That feeling didn't last, and I wouldn't have acted on it.

I am entirely disinterested in other guys. No matter how much I try to be interested. It is almost painful. All I want is you. I am content for this to go without a name, but it should be noted that my mouth is so full of three fat words that it might burst.

Whatever. I am moody.

Do not wear those shoes, and I won't wear that dress.

Do not kiss me.

Wednesday, July 2, 2008


Recently I have been allegiant to things that I really owe no allegiance to. Not because I feel like I have to be, but because I want to be. I am enjoying the time I am getting to spend with people. As well as the time I get to spend alone.

I am trying not to dwell on shitty people and bad situations. I am tired of the bizarre double standard among certain friends of mine, that when they see certain friends once once a week, oftentimes less than that, it is okay and excusable, but if I don't want to hang out all the time, it's because I am a bad friend. I do NOT understand, and I find it to be complete and utter bullshit.

There are things I remain confused by.

Today, you were my Romeo in black jeans. I'm sure this doesn't please you. But at this point I am apt not to care.

Tonight, I am determined to be creative.

Tomorrow, I am determined to get a job.

Oddly enough, I am entirely content to be just a piece of furniture in your weird life.


Thursday, June 26, 2008


It's been a while, but let's not linger.

Or dwell, so here it goes.

I told Max that my birthday would be more fun if I didn't see him, but that was not what I meant, or how I meant to say it. Apart from being entirely wrong, it was an awful thing to say at all. I am appalled at the words that have come out of my mouth in his direction.

Are the nasty things I say any different than the things I say to other people, and he just receives them wrong, or listens to them at all? I am really curious about that.

This whole Max mess is fucking with my brain. I know I can't be that awful. My chest hurts and says that he is just too sensitive, that he just can't handle the person I am, in the same way I can't handle him.

In any case, if I were forced to "say a few words" about him in any given situation, I would probably say this,

"Maxwell is without a single doubt, the kindest person I have ever known, or known of. When it was good between us, it was great. He is as smart as a whip, and really, his eagerness to help others is astounding. While I suppose, it wasn't right for him and me, I wish him the best, and I can only hope he finds a girl that makes him as happy as he deserves, and he deserves white picket fences."

Yeah. Thinking about how happy I had been, really knocked my bad mood down. Probably because at least I got to know him for a while.

But other things are happening for me to be excited about, and I don't have time to feel like shit over boys that I make feel like shit.

Good things:

I painted my fingernails black, and I am really digging it.

Alex is coming to Chicago from Wisconsin, and we get to hang out and see Too Much Light, then hang out with John.

I hung out with Nate from Pick Me Up, and tried new food, and saw the most preposterous movie of all time.

I got to play Bananagrams. (with Nate)

I got a basket for my bike.

I am one year older.

I saw Melinda.

I don't know what else.


Call It Off, by Tegan and Sara. Listen to it.

Let's find things to do.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

The cheese stands alone

I am not cheese. I am a girl. I am alone.

Dave is gone.

I feel very small.

Sunday, April 20, 2008


I thought long and hard about what I was going to write in this blog. Unfortunately, I then put on the Spice Girls and now all I can do is groove. It's a disaster.

I wanted to spend this blog cursing my youth. At 18, I was so excited to be an adult, but I haven't felt younger. Even when I was in high school, I felt older than this. In high school I felt mature. This, I suppose is not an issue of maturity. I know that I am very mature. However, my skin does not entirely reflect this. I do not have calluses associated with age. I am soft and pink and eager. I am not jaded. If would be outrageous, to me, for me to tell you that I am jaded. I know there are amazing things that I haven't seen, and I want to see them!

Would I be a more believable adult if I feigned cynicism?

I think not. I think I can be an adult and feel that magic that comes from magical things, like a cat's warm belly, and what it feels like to have a crush. My kitten is magical.

One of the best compliments I have ever gotten was from Michael, when he said I was "a peach without a pit, sweet as can be and soft all the way through." I think soft is very accurate. I melt at, typically, even the word kitten, or at the sight of a certain person. That person has been several different people. Initially I didn't like that. I really enjoyed the one and only idea. I hope maybe there is a one and only. That would be fine indeed.

That's all I have to say about that.

Saturday, March 29, 2008

There are so many things.

Michael is blogging. I can blog too. I never blog anymore. That's not cool. I am sure my many loyal readers miss me!

I have not been liking how I have been feeling mostly, these days. There have been internal conflicts that I am downright uncomfortable with. I think though that everything will resolve itself sooner than later.

I like Luna.

That was the only thing I saw of Michael's blog. Perhaps the Smashing Pumpkins song? I like that song, also. I remember when I used to fancy myself a "Luna." and I would design cool logos for my cute little nicknames for myself. I remember in Ms. Sinclair's History Research class, I did my Luna logo really big on one of the green chalk boards.

I find myself taking sides a lot, recently, and encountering difficulties because of that. Because I want to be a good, loyal friend, especially to someone I am so, almost desperately, fond of. But I cannot help but know that sad sad feeling of loss. Not knowing what went wrong, but having it be all out of my control. I sympathize with him though. It must have been hard. That girl has the sweetest eyes.

I am only sort of coming to grips with Dave's pondering over love. I want to hear that word so bad now. I want him to tell me he loves me. He used to, now he doesn't. It is awful. It makes me feel awful.

I find a lot of comfort in even being near Michael, though. I don't know why. But When we were in his car, driving back from practice, it felt so good, when it was just me and him in the car. Not in a romantic way, but in a way where I knew if I turned and said anything to him, he would listen to me, and wouldn't judge me. He is so easy. It is fantastic.

There are so many things you wouldn't understand.

There are a lot of things I wish I could say to you.


Wednesday, January 23, 2008


So, today is January 23rd. It's Eli's birthday, and what would be our two year anniversary. Weird. I do not regret at all how everything happened, and I wouldn't change a thing. It could have been weird though, if he were here. We'd have cake. That's all I can really say about it. It would have been sweet. I love cake. I feel bad for skimping out on Tim, and not going by Sweet Mandy B's. I really wanted those cupcakes, it is just so cold and snowy and awful.

I am sure he'll understand.

I finally have the Marcy Playground album. I missed it. These songs are so worn and warm in my ears and it feels good to have something old and familiar. Especially music. I LOVE this album. I don't like noise, but I love this sound. I feel like digging up a bunch of shit from my musical past. It feels good. It isn't the music I listened to with my friends, it was MY music. That was when I was interested in finding new music, now I feel like an old person, who only wants what they are familiar with and is scared of everything else. I am not scared, I just think it is largely a piece of crap. I Want to curl up my toes and lay in some mud.

Honestly, I thought it could not get better, but So Much For The Afterglow just finished and I am going to listen to it when I am done with this album.

My night is alright, even if I scoff at Dave.

OH MAN. So. Work. Sometimes Geri just breaks my heart. I try so hard to do whats right. It's like that night she closed and Dave and I were there and it looked mediocre to okay and she said that she would be pleased if she opened and it looked like that. Because she knew she worked hard and she felt like she did a good job. She didn't do a bad job, it looked fine, but I can think of so many times where I busted my ass closing the store, and I was told it wasn't good enough because I forgot this that or the other. I try so hard but it's never enough. For anyone.

I am so done with that being the case.