Cars break down, and people break down, and other things break down too

I have become obsessed with abandoned places, buildings, towns, houses, machinery, lighthouses, marinas, train stations.... I don't even know why. There are a ton of random abandoned places in Russia...Japan...Ireland...Detroit, New Orleans, the list goes on forever. They are so weird. Some skeletons are buildings left over from economic fallout, some are uninhabited because of a curse. Some were once hubs of people and densly populated until supplies or mines ran dry, or because of intolerable living conditions and weather. I am obsessed with these gaps in space, these lacking of human population. They have a wealth of history but are left alone, an eternity of nothing to say. They are mysterious for no reason. They have a completely believable and well known excuse, but still leave you curious as to why or what or how.

I have such a need to write lately, I sort of wish it was a need to paint, but I will express the way I need to when I need to. I'll just listen to to it suppose.

I am having a difficult time controling emotions lately. I am usually pretty good at it, or at least I have gotten that way. Lately I have just been snapping for no reason.

I am trying to get back to that infinite and resounding light heartedness that only my mother, possibly now, besides me can emulate. She is so off the wall sometimes, I think I need to get back to that.

I like my mom. Our relationship is never going to be something serious and matronly and frankly not very bonded. Maybe bonded in a different way. As in JB weld vs. a nail in wood.
We show little pieces of ourselves to be exposed by calling eachother for that one missing ingredient we can't remember, or google mapsing something to see how long it will take us to get there, or to borrow the iron. We keep it to seem merely a surface level relationship when really underneath it's like Walden's pond.

She like me, every now and then, between seeming meaningless and random exchanges and five minute "please can you" phone calls, we catch eachother at a moment where one of us bawls to the other about how infinitely depressing our situation is, how we feel like there is no way out until we feel better because one or the other just simply tells us to stop crying cause it's gonna make us cry. Then because out of reason of needing to fullfil someone else's need of us not crying we stop.

We are weird. At least she is over the part where she makes a big deal about what she did every time we go to lunch and how sorry she is. I'm glad that part is over.

I feel like everything is being taken so seriously on all fronts, all people. I need to knock it off and ignore other people who do it too.

Well I just got some sour news, and I need to go work my ass off for a couple hours. BRB.

So messed up

Today was difficult, but still way easier than yesterday.


Today someone was walking drunk through a golf course and called me. So I picked him up and we drove around. We went back to my apartment and played poker. We talked a little bit about some other people. We wagered pieces of clothing.
A girl has intuition for a reason. There is something in the back of your brain, there is something carnal and old and sensitive. It picks up disturbances like a cat will before an earthquake. Hone in on that, people, it will save you from dishonesty to yourself.

Speaking of which someone talked to me for most of the day today. They claim they don't want anything more than friendship but that weird old pang went off in my brain like a tuning fork, and just rang out gullet to guts to beware, because even though I am working on being different I still attract crazies, cause I don't know much else.

No matter what I do I still have problems speaking up. It's weird I can say anything in writing. I can make you feel it. I can create the feelings out of words, real words, solid words that my fleeting mouth can't express. If ever something happens I have a bulldozer to my brain until I sit down and write it. I can write my fears and you will fear them. I will write my pain and you will ache. I can take my fingers on a keyboard, I can take my fingers to a pencil, years, months later my fingers will creep up and expose your teeth and pull back dimples and crinkle crows feet at my joy or pleasure or anger.


I got a letter today from someone that hurt me a long time ago. It wasn't that long ago, but it feels long enough. They had to seek medical attention last week from self depreciating behavior, to put it nicely. They were told as part of the program they were put into that they had to apologize to people they had hurt. I could have done without the explanation as to why they were doing it, I could have been ok with just the apology. It feels faker now. Like they are trying to spread blame, even now it's still "If you didn't do this, I wouldn't have had to put myself through this."

I am on this fantastic journey though, this being responsible for my own feelings means making/letting other people be responsible for theirs. It's weird being a realist and going to a counselor, every day I talk to her I feel like I sound like those little shit pussies that I hate.

Wah, your daddy didn't give you enough hugs, your mommy popped a couple valium to get by. Except it's more like my dad is an abusive addict asshat and my mom is finally recovering from being a religious fanatic. I guess they are the same that way, everyone needs something to justify their behavior...to make weaknesses ok to project on to other people.

But it's weird having someone say that those feelings of pain and anger are justified. It's weird having someone say to except them and feel them and not push them down and reject them but to love them and see they are beautiful and push through them.
Push yourself through the pain and burning and anger, it purifies you of those things that make you imperfect. You'll never not be a hodge podge of mixed up, but some alloys aspire to be gold.

Ok she doesn't say all that, but that's what I feel like.


Now I am done writing, I am lonely. I am listening to Iggy and the Stooges on repeat. I wanna be your dog. And I feel like I wrote it.

grief

I can't hang around waiting for someone to decide that I'm good enough to be their everything. That eats someone up inside. I want to be that woman that that takes someone's breath away. I can't hold worry about how they feel they missed out on a connection and how much happier they might be if they took a different path. I made a mistake once, but I didn't have someone wait around to feel that gnawing ache, like a stomach ache but higher and in the middle of your chest. Like it feels like it's making a space too big for your lungs and guts and heart and you can't breathe and your heart is in your mouth and you want to puke from pain. Or maybe I did. Maybe it's more painful because I made the first move.

I can't sleep. I just had one of the most painful conversations I think I've ever had in my life. I can't tell you why it bothered me so much to tears. I can't tell you what it feels like, but I'm sure you know.

That feeling you get when you know you let yourself hit rock bottom again, you let yourself down. You opened yourself up and knew what was gonna happen. You for whatever reason got coerced and turned your back to the battle field. That feeling of ten swords in your back instead of just one.
Yeah it could be worse, but the way you feel at that moment you can't imagine what feeling good feels like.
It's like when cold gets in your bones and you can't remember what warm feels like. At least there is a peace in after this feeling of pain it's a better feeling after that. There's something beautiful in knowing there is only one direction to go now.
Every day you hit bottom and learn to wake up the next day at the top. I know even though I can't feel it that something better is there.
Like fumbling around in the dark for the switch.
Just focusing on something better... that's all there is, it's all you have.
The struggle is beautiful because the only way to go from down there is up.
The struggle is lonely because no one, not even your most trusted confidant will be there when you hit the finish line.
The struggle is life.
The struggle is you.





I sound so fucking dramatic. I am only on blogger when I can't sleep from grief.

"Do what you can, with what you have, where you are." Franklin Roosevelt

Why can’t we stand behind our leaders? “Obama’s a commie”, “Bush was a nazi”, “Clinton was a tard”. How are we supposed to inspire positive change if we as a people only operate out of dissent? Whether you not you voted for that Commander in Chief, you can’t expect to get anything done by committing meek libel on facebook to your friends list, by singing dirty hippie songs with guitars, by elitely bashing over wine and tapas with your peers and therefore experts on the subject. You need to not be concerned with the fate of the free world and the fantastic land of opportunity that was built on the blood sweat and tears of our fathers if you decide to not concern yourself with positive change. Do you think that a leader can lead a country out of despondency if it’s people are constantly throwing temper tantrums like a damn two year old? How do you talk to a distressed toddler? Take responsibility for the fact that you live in one of the best countries on earth because someone before you did the work to make it this way and take that pride and opportunity that they CREATED OUT OF NOTHING and breed it into pride and opportunity yourself. It sounds so cliché, but the change starts with you. Pick yourself up by the bootstraps, wake up every day and make it yours.

Or you can try and change things by doing what you've always done.