Get Fucked.

It's my response to everything this week.

Everything kept getting worse and worse and then it got better.

I have a few goals now, where there were none before:

1. Never be reckless with my heart or someone else's
2. Never take myself too seriously
3. Assume the best in people
4. Be somewhere (and someone) warm
5. Be artful
6. Troll

Yes

Yes

Yes

Yes

And there ain't no stopping'

Yes

7. A well lived life

Haters back off.

Get fucked, you shitty vegan motherfuck.
Get fucked, vermin.
Get fucked, sleeping all day.
Get fucked.

Fuck it.

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

The In and For and Out and Hurt and Duh and Winona

I have never been this one. I was never the one left. I was the one right.

That is the upsetting heaviness that left me living in a bubble of hate and salt and insults spit through fingertips after way more whiskey than is the appropriate amount of whiskey to drink when you're upset.

My bubble popped.

I have recently been a pretty mediocre person but I am bouncing back. We all go through phases, right?

It's that damn street. Who'd think that I could go out with 3 boys from that damn street and each time I would end up covered in eggs and spit and shit and tears.

I'm on a new street, a few new streets, and I go swimming with my boyfriend through the music he makes and my best friends are better than yours.

My best friends are punk as fuck and honest. My boyfriend is the most punk rock motherfucker I know. He inspires me every day.

I get sad sometimes, because of Stonewall Jackson, and because of John, and from the guilt that comes with knowing you've done the wrong thing when you could have done the right thing, but that is only sometimes. There is too much time to be spent having the best day of your life to spend it wishing you hadn't thrown that stupid pinecone.

Well, may the bridges I've burned light the way.


This is my anthem right now. It's pretty good. Check it out.

Shells and Aliens and You Know and Whatever

Jealous that somehow she broke in, into everything, and not me.

I feel so sincere, and I feel so earnest.

And "I feel so tired."

But I made marks everywhere.

I paved the road.

My boyfriend fell out of the sky, wielding a smile and a guitar.

I met an angel, now he is in an ICU and stable, but I am scared for him. I am teleported to Max's apartment and call from DS and hearing about Trent's induced coma and maybe not-walking-not-waking.

When I get picked, it will be on merit, not popularity.

I don't care if I get picked last.

I've got a disease that if gone wrong, could kill me, slowly and painfully, and whatever, I'll live.

I am brave; in secret, I am petrified:

The lights in my organs flickering off.
The open wounds.
Being contagious.

I haven't shaved my legs in over a week, and it's wracking my nerves to look at these legs.

I am going to be late.

Of course-

After I have said 101 times that I am staying away from guys, I meet one.

A game changer.

What an odd thing, to be at ease.

Also, it's a double edged sword, since I feel like I have been neglecting other important people.

So, important people, I am sorry.

We've been pretty much hanging out since last Wednesday.

WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN!? I don't know, but it's awesome.

He's got a black Persian cat named Barry.

The first time we met up, we were meeting at a coffee shop that was about to close and he bought me coffee, knowing nothing about me. So despite the fact that caffeine usually kills me, and I am not a fan of the taste, I drank some of it.

Little things.

Work tonight.

Honest

I told the truth
to everyone.
It was easier than I thought it'd be.

Right now three people sit in the front of my life:

A writer who stays up and helps me fix my bike.
The boy whose cells and magic spells, my kryptonite, my old soul mate.
The laugh that makes the months in between disappear.

But there is still someone I can picture standing the A-field in the sun, that I remember dancing with in a crowded room, and he is good, too.

I decided to be reborn, and well, I am aging quickly, and honesty is my baby steps.

My cat is lovely and precious, honest.

You're Eating My Heart Away

All the guys I go out with inevitably end up dating women they at one point or another told me they didn't think much of, when we were dating. Either I am getting lied to, or after me, even these shitty women seem like a good idea.

I don't know which one I prefer.

This has happened now I total of 4 times. It's weird, and I don't like it at all.

There is a guy I know whose cells are magic spells and he's the only guy that has never once made me feel bad about myself or unworthy of anything. It is breaking my heart in half to see him in such a state.

I have a lot to read tomorrow.

This week is going to be busy. I think I'll enjoy it, though.

Night-time, Imitation of Life, Lee Pace, Heartbreak

I put on my old man pants, some really cute kitten heels, a t-shirt, my mustard yellow cardigan, and my old nasty blue leather jacket.

I rode my bike to the movies. I saw a movie I did not have high hopes for, but was actually pretty good. I cried.

I came home to heaviness.

I resigned to sleep.

I failed.

I decided to look at Lee Pace (because he is pretty, and talented.)

I planned a grand gesture.

I am going to wear my old man pants tomorrow. They're hella comfortable.

My next tattoo will be "imitation of life" but I don't know where.

Tell me.

Imitation Of Life

I sat in on writing critiques tonight, after going to class with my friend Amanda. It felt good to be in a classroom. I need to do things like that more. I want to go back to school.

Anyhow: It really lit a fire under my butt to write. I don't know what I want to do and do and do for the rest of my life, but I know I have at least one story to tell, and I want to write that one, for the people who need a story like it.

So I wrote.

Not a lot, but I really like what's there.

I'm not done.

Goofus and Gallant

Goofus: Goofus goes to a party and meets the girlfriend of the guy she wants to sleep with and attempts to befriend her, and make herself appear trustworthy, only to reveal she is a two-face.

Gallant: Gallant goes to a party and meets the girlfriend of the guy she wants to sleep with and avoids her completely, interacting only when necessary, or polite.

Gallant is still an idiot, and it was nice not to be the only person who felt that way. But it was also nice that she doesn't have the gall to think I would ever want to be her friend.

Please Please Me (Let's Change The Pace)

When I was a kid, my mom liked to listen to Oldies 104.3 in the car.

The other night I was just listening to the Beatles Anthology, and the opening melody of this song started and I was blasted back to the backseat of my mom's car.

This song, and Day Tripper, were the first Beatles songs I knew, a little kid. My mom was a Beatles fangirl from the beginning, so she made sure to let me know what was what.

I totally miss Oldies 104.3, and Dick Biondi.

...So, I just looked up Dick Biondi (to make sure I spelled his name right) and as it happens, he is credited as the first U.S. Disc Jockey to play the Beatles. It was in Chicago, on WLS 890 AM, in February of 1963.

...The song he played was "Please Please Me."

That just made me very happy. Maybe that's why I remember this song, and his voice; when I don't really think it's one of the Beatles' songs that stayed very popular, it's one I remember hearing on the radio all the time.

Now it's time for bed. <3