I went tot he beach today with a bunch of assholes. I had an okay time. I turned out red as a lobster.

The medication

The pharmacy won't fill my perscriptions. Something weird happened. a fuck up that has fucked me over. I have nothing to aid me in my fight against unruly, unnatural, unbearable, seemingly uncontrollable, moodswings that come and go as certainly as night and day. Oh, what am I to do??

Ugh, I just feel flooded with negativity that I have to make up for.

I need a light, before I run out of gas.

My room is a mother fucking mess. Oh god, please, help me find the motivation to get the hell out of bed and clean it.

And I'll never find the words to say, to completely explain, just how I'm breaking down.

~I'm starting to hate my job. Now that the canadians have left there's not much excitement there for me.

~ I feel convoluted by uncertainty about everything

~ I feel weak and stupid. There are so many things to learn about. so many centuries to comprehend. so many stories of important lives passed. all of which I know so little about.

~ I haven't done much writing and it kills me.

~ I want to write, but everytime I pick up a pen I just can't seem to make sense of anything. I miss Leslie. Our communication was my outlet for writing well. I really don't even know where to begin without her guidence.

~ I want to go back to school right now and start learning and doing homework.

~ Mindless work is killing me.

*I don't know what I know anymore.

bluebeard by edna st. vincent millay (format got fucked)

This door you might not open, and you did; So enter now, and see for what slight thing
You are betrayed... Here is no treasure hid, No cauldron, no clear crystal
mirroring The sought-for truth, no heads of women slain For greed like yours, no writhings of distress, But only what you see... Look yet again—An empty room, cobwebbed and comfortless. Yet this alone out of my life I kept Unto myself, lest any know me quite; And you did so profane me when you crept Unto the threshold of this room to-night That I must never more behold your face. This now is yours. I seek another place.

erhdkfjkdjsn fuck

“ As memory may be a paradise from which we cannot be driven, it may also be a hell from which we cannot escape.
— John Lancaster Spalding

excerpt from Sylvia Plath's journal

There comes a time when all your outlets are blocked, as with wax. You sit in your room, feeling the prickling ache in your body which constricts your throat, tightens dangerously in the tear pockets behind your eyes. One word. One gesture, and all that is pent up in you- festered resentments, gangrenous jealousies, superfluous desires unfulfilled- and that will burst out of you in angry impotent tears, in embarassed sobbing and blubbering to no on in particuler. No arms will enfold you, no voice will say "There, there. Sleep and forget." No, in your new and horrible independence you feel the dangerous premonitory ache... An outlet you need and they are sealed. You live night and day in the dark cramped prison you have made for yourself. And so on this day, you feel you will burst, break, if you cannot let the great reservoir seething in you loose...

I don't have a single thought in me that is established enough for me to write about. All I think about is how much there is to think about.

Money doesn't grow on trees

So, who hates just how much money matters? I certainly do. I've reached the point in my life where I can't continue to depend on my parents for money. It really sucks, but it is not a terrible place to be, because i'm learning how to work hard and make it on my own. Still, I hate slaving away and seeing pathetic little $5 bills as the fruit of my labor.

There are so many things I want to do to enhance my life, but can't because I just don't have enough money. I want to go on a life changing road trip with my friend of all friends Kaitlyn, but I also have to buy textbooks. I want to invest in a neat and eclectic wardrobe to show off my looks and make good impressions, but I can't because there are still so many more important things I ahve to save up for.

I don't mean to come across as a money obsessed fool who can't appreciate the simple pleasures, but all the responsibilities I have to pay for are turning me into exactly that. And I really hate it.

If money weren't an option I'd go buy a red sun dress, get a chic haircut, give kaitlyn money for gas, and drive with her all the way across the country to Portland where we'd maybe camp out at a camp ground or spend the night at a little bed and breakfast drinking delicious cocktails and get sloppy drunk.

Oh oh oh.

These are hard times for dreamers.

So, despite what everyone else thinks, I adore sylvia plath. she is so unashamedly honest and copurageous. I don't condone suicide, but I do condone speaking out about how you feel and the truth.

Interview part 1:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k6RRWf8woPM

Interview part 2:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aFLNL5EyPOg&feature=related

edie sedgewick, the muse

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5vFeHnFCuJU

Tonight

Well, for the past few weeks I have been doing only moderately fun things like working and working. Waitressing is great, but I need a bit of a break. So, tonight I'm going to do some light drinking with a co-worker named matt. It should be fun. There's nothing better than a couple of shots to get a buzz going and good conversation with good friends on a balmy summer night lit by tikki torches and fireflies.

The daydreams

I am a dreamer. I day dream about as much as I breathe. It's what gets me by. I day dream about my life mostly. I imagine myself in situations i'd like to be in and with people I'd like to see. I elaborate the scene with fixtures to ease my pain. This goes on for hours. Like I said, I day dream as much as I breathe.

Is this a problem? I think it is becoming one. There are two main reasons. The first is simple. I forget to live. Instead of using the daydreams as a floorplan for my goals, I just use them as an alternate reality that I run to in times of need. Instead of being a lucid dreamer, and cultivating the actions that meet the thoughts, I just enjoy vicariously. And thus, miss out on the real thing.

The second reason is not so simple. The daydreams are so much better than reality. So in comparison, reality often sucks for me. It disappoints me. I need to cut back on the dreaming and start amping up the living. I need to let go of the freedom to reconstruct everything and repaint it all to meet my fancy. Otherwise, reality will continue to act as a burden. Eh?

So, here, I am. ready to put the fantasies aside. ready to stand up and take action. I just don't know what to do first.

Today

~ I am going to buy three tickets for the band of horses concert

~I am going to work out with my momma

~I am going to search for a vintage umbrella. not one of those contraption ones, where the length pops out when you push a button. I'm taking old umbrellas that kinda feel like canes when they're closed. I think I want a solid red one, but that might change when I get to the store and see the possible selections.

~ I want to get a pair of wellies for when it rains and I have to walk all around campus.

~I have a dr.'s appointment

~ I don't have work

~ My hair is curlier than usual

~ I am fed up with hiding my scars. I want to just breathe free without having to hide or cover my past troubles. I used to be a cutter. Get over it and let me be.

~ I want to read a good book, but can't seem to pick one. I can never decide. I'm so picky when it comes to books. I always love old ones though. I'm talking pre- 1960. I don't like the books that come out now a days. The writers try too hard and while the plots amuse me the prose disappoints me.

~ I want to dress up, but can't find anything good to wear.

~I want to go thrifting.

~ I want to do arts and crafts.

i want to grow a few more inches

I am moderately tall. 5'7 with your average pair of shoes. Almost 5'9 with my favorite pair of nine west black peep toe heels. Some girls would hate to be that tall. Many girls and guys think it's unattractive for a woman to be tall. I am not one of those people. In fact, I am the complete opposite. I love height. I think being tall is beautiful. It's a pleasant rarity that I find refreshing. But what I love more, is when tall women embrace their height and fear not heels or short men. Why be insecure when your heaight yileds a strong amazonian woman? I wish I was a little taller.

Still, I love a good pair of flats that you can just slip on and run around in. I wish I could be 5'8 in flats. I've even been drinking a lot of milk lately to boost the process (well, if there still is a process of growing at 19).

I'm very excited. I've just made plans to go see Band of Horses with my new canadian friend.

I just finished watching He's Just Not that Into You at Kailtyn's reccomendation. And I found it to be thought provoking. I read the book awhile back and actually think the movie's much better. The book should have never been written. It should have been made into an article of some sort, not a book. It's all commentary- no story.

The movie was interesting and it had an ending I wasn't expecting. It definitely taught me a lot as it acted like a bucket of cold water. I realize now what I always knew, but never wanted to admit, he's just not that into me. I shouldn't waste my time making excuses for someone who isn't calling. It's true, if I were interested in a guy I would make it happen just as if i weren't interested in a guy I wouldn't call.

Those who dwell...among the beauties and mysteries of the earth are never alone or weary of life. . . Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. The more clearly we can focus our attention on the wonders and realities of the universe about us, the less taste we shall have for destruction. ~ Rachel Carson

Don't be too timid and squeamish about your actions. All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make the better. - Ralph Waldo Emmerson

I had a revelation today. I was listening to a song about opening and closing the doors to our thoughts. And I contemplated how that works. How it literally feels like a door is closed when you finally resolve your feelings about something. To this, I thought about things I'm still a little unresolved about and still not over. Then I imagined a doorway leading me to those thoughts. I immediately slammed the door in my head. I just imagined slamming the door on all the self doubt and self loathing and I'm not good enough or pretty enough bull shit. I just slammed it. And I felt better. I felt like it was all literal. And that brought some release as the weight of those unresolved feelings just drifted quickly away in response to the closed door. Does that make sense? If it does, you should try it.

Some random thoughts:

1. I love my job. The managers are such lovely people that you can just chat for hours with. And the work is fun. Rushing around, taking orders, plugging them into the computer then serving them and talking to people, is such a nice break from the boredom that I was experiencing. 2. I love my life. When I'm not bored, I feel good. And for the first time, I just feel whole. I don't know why. I feel like the girl in the picture. 3. I wish I lived in newport news, so, i could be closer to my friends. I hate not being able to see them as much as i'd like. The thought of growing up and moving across states and being away from them makes me cringe. I wish we were all just next door neighbors forever.

When I say I want a backyard wedding

I mean something like this:



I found this picture on a great little blog called The English Muse (definitely worth following).