Tuesday, June 30, 2009

it's just not good.

I am in a gray haze. I don't feel very good about anything. I'll have bursts of good moods, but they don't last long. My body hurts. My shoulders ache, and I don't know why. I am going to take a hot shower in a little while, and maybe that will soothe that mess.

I want to get out more.

I am going to make things tonight.

Monday, June 29, 2009

i got it.

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.

It was my birthday present. I am sitting in it right now. I love it. I cried when I saw it.

Right now though?

I'm a touch melancholy.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

while it's fresh in my mind:

I am filler, I am nothing.

I am the one that inhabits the rooms and the beds. But I am only taking up space.

This is what I have chosen, I suppose.

I have chosen to take the bus instead of bike, and now I will be fat. I have chosen to let jealousy and bitterness sink in, and now I will be bitter.

This isn't my present, it's someone else's past, but I am living it, and it's loud and mean.

"Sorrow drips into your heart, through a pinhole, just like a faucet that leaks, and there is comfort in the sound, and while you debate half empty or half full, it slowly rises,
your love is gonna drown."

I had a dream about Eli last night, and trains, and hanging out with people my age.

It wouldn't matter if I was the most beautiful woman in the world in my new dress, and it wouldn't matter if I went away to college, and got real smart, it wouldn't matter if I wrote a book, or a play, or a song, I am only me. I will never be 543.

And just like that, these feeling bring me back to knocking on Julian's window, in the garage, but I'm not S, either.

My new suspenders itch.

I am going to ride my bike, even if it pours.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

chair on my head.


Thursday, June 4, 2009

20 before 20

I need ideas for 19 teenage things to do before I am no longer 19. These are my last twenty days as a teenager.

Mama bird came back, I am not a murderer.

Life is good, today.

My boyfriend is the knees.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

M & S

I just watched Beauty and the Beast for the first time in many many many years, and that, coupled with boyfriend smell (inside of boyfriend shirt), and maybe a bit of new-bike excitement have helped me recover a bit from my concern over the baby birds I might have mindlessly murdered.

I haven't gotten to see them since Monday, but I will see them tomorrow night, John says they've been chirping. We've had two cold nights in a row. Suck.

But I did get a new bike, and I can already tell that her name is Margaret. Sheila was fun and sweet and beautiful, and Margaret is a little more sensible, still beautiful though. Sheila was my beautiful 1970's Kelly Green Schwinn Breeze, and Margaret is probably an early 80's Burgundy Schwinn World Tourist. One of the things I like best about Margaret is that she is world's lighter than Sheila. I picked her up and the difference was AMAZING. Another huge difference between Margaret and Sheila is that M is a three speed and Sheila was a single speed, so that should be... interesting. I don't know how to work gears really. I played around when I rode home from the train tonight, and I think I have some idea. Also, Margaret has handle breaks, where Sheila had back pedal breaking. They are very very different bikes. They have similar handle bars, minus the breaks, and Margaret has thinner, more road bike style tires.

The seat on Margaret is AMAZING. It's like sitting on a pillow, perfect for my awfully long ride to boyfriend's house.

I don't know why I called him that. He has a name.


Why did I just pretend that my cat was my boyfriend and not John?

This was in the wallet I lost. Awful. I love these pictures. He's a handsome fellow, and brilliant.


Monday, June 1, 2009


If only this blog could be about the song by Low. If only. I would be so happy.

This is doomed to be about how I inadvertently murdered three baby birds. Whether or not they are dead at this moment, I am not sure, but it's cold, and they are no longer safe and warm under John's air conditioner. They are mostly safe between John's windows with some cardboard. I am sad, almost sick over it, they looked to sweet and they were breathing, those pretty little baby birds.

If their mama bird doesn't come back and they die, I have every intention of carefully taking them out of the window sill and putting them in a strong enough box that there can be no ironic worm-eat-bird twist.

I am going to name them.

There's three of them.

I'll write a play about it, and a song, and I'll paint a picture of them.

My heart is aching over what I caused.

It occurred to me that I could try to care for them, but the internet says they need to be fed every 15 to 20 minutes, and I have been away for about 5 hours.

Blech, I hate it.

I just want to have enough money to buy a bike, and get my tattoo.

I turn twenty in 23 days.