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[18 Dec 2007|12:47pm] |
i need love songs. do you have any suggestions? not stupid mushy gushy love songs but real, intelligent songs about safety and comfort and love and etc.
THANK YOU.
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| we gladly run in circles but the shape we meant to make is gone |
[10 Dec 2007|06:41am] |
it's 6:52 and i can go to breakfast in 30 minutes. i'm nearing the end of the semester and i'm almost finished all of the makeup work that i need to do after the time that i missed classes. my ipod is acting fishy and my father is trying to buy my love. he got me a new computer and wants to get me a new ipod. he came out here when i was in the hospital in indianapolis then proceeded to get drunk at dinner when we had dinner in ohio. he was supposed to come out here to help me, not to just solidify my reasons for disliking home and my problems with isolation/trust/etc. i'm supposed to be going to health services every day to get my vitals checked and etc. i haven't been yet. oops. my room is really cold and i'm moving to peace house in a few days. i am so glad to not be an ra anymore.
i listen to iron & wine and get lost in memories. i drink tea to fill an empty spot inside of me that seems to be a safe haven for coldcoldcold.
to do.
psychology exam
psychology paper
spanish written exam
spanish oral exam
culture and conflict quiz
sexual violence in a societal context journal entries
svsc oral exam
sexual assault survivors' advocate final exam
i go home on saturday. people are plowing snow outside of my window and it's almost breakfast time.
love to you all.
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| the littlest birds sing the prettiest songs |
[17 Nov 2007|12:11pm] |
kevin and i broke up on tuesday night but he spent last night in my bed. one single tear from his right eye to the hemp bracelet that i made for him. quite possibly the most heartbreaking thing i've seen. first time in 8 years since he's cried and it was my fault, on my bed, his hands in mine.
but it's only fair, right? i can't be with kevin when my thoughts are of rylan, when i wear lipgloss and mascara when i think i might run into rylan but i wear sweatpants and hardly shower with kevin. for the best.
i need to get a fake id or borrow an id from someone who looks like me. FOR A HANSON CONCERT. that's right. there is a 21+ hanson concert. what the fuck. i went to ohio and kentucky to see them but i can't even see them in indiana, the state where i LIVE because i'm not 21. i can vote, i can go to war, i pay taxes but i can't see hanson. lame.
i'm really excited to see my dogs and my pony. i'm in the columbus airport right now and in three hours i'll be in philadelphia. i'm almost home and i hope it feels as warm and loving when i'm there as it has felt in my head.
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| i find hope in your beating chest |
[02 Nov 2007|09:12pm] |
i'm trying to stay engaged in my life, i'm trying to stay present to those who are around me but it's so
difficult. so, so difficult. i've had some of the strangest dreams, some of the most disturbing dreams of my
life and i don't know what to do with them. they're sitting in my stomach. i can't get them out of my mind
and it's hard to think about anything else, to concentrate on anything else.
1. sitting in front of the power plant with my dad, but my dad is already dead and i'm with his spirit. i'm just sitting there watching, reflecting, a person and dog try to walk down the road through the power plants but the gate is locked and has a chain. the man shrugged and said i guess they need to keep this locked now. i killed my dad there but the man with the dog didn't know that, he was just commenting on how sad the world is, that someone would kill someone else and then he wouldn't be able to walk his dog there, he wouldn't be able to do something as normal as walking his dog because there are people like me in the world. then police and military people came, maybe a news crew, to try to investigate the murder. i walked backwards slowly, cross railroad tracks that are on a tiny hill. my dad says really calmly and slowly not to worry, that no one would believe that it was me who killed him. he said it really calmly and slowly. like he didn't want me to get caught. like he didn't blame me for killing him, like he understood why i did it and he wasn't mad and he didn't want me to get caught. he knew all of the reasons that i killed him and he still wasn't mad at me. he didn't blame me and he still cared about me enough not to want my life to be ruined by the judicial consequences of murder. he didn't blame me.
2. my mom and dad got in an argument. they got in a really huge argument that ended with my mom shooting my dad in the back of the head, right in the center. a red little hole in the back of his balding black, now gray, hair. i didn't know what to do. i counted my sleeping meds until i got to 51.5 and was ready to take them and my mom was going to kill herself too. we didn't want to live without each other, her in jail, possibly without him? i didn't want to live with my mom in jail for the rest of her life and maybe i didn't want to live without my dad. when i was finished counting the pills, somehow my dream jumped to my mom dad and me all in a line outside of a hospital. the field was green and the sky was blue. the three of us got bumped up in line because we said that we all needed to die really quickly, it was an emegency, we needed to die. we got into the ER and each of us got a different doctor. somehow we all had bullet wounds in the back of our head. i wanted to live. and i wanted my parents to live. my doctor seemed really cheerful and prayed before the surgery. i kept telling him that i only wanted to live if my mom was going to live. at that point i don't think i knew that she had tried to kill my dad. i don't know how much it mattered.
there's a really big difference in my mind between killing a husband and killing a wife. i wish that wasn't
true. when i hear of a woman who killed her husband i don't react nearly as strongly as when i hear of a man who killed his wife. i'm embarrassed to say that i almost feel a certain amount of affinity, if not pride, when i hear of a woman who has killed a man. in my mind that is a sign of strength (one of the many many many signs), but if a man kills a woman, it shows me nothing but weakness. in the book white oleander, the mother kills her boyfriend for treating her poorly. i have a lot of trouble with not thinking of her as a strong woman but i don't know why this is. i almost feel as though women have been oppressed and mistreated for so long that it's about time they stand up for themselves and say that no, they won't take it anymore. but i have a peace sign tattoo! i am a pacifist! i don't know why the double standard exists in my mind. i wouldn't want a gay man to kill a straight man; i wouldn't want a black woman to kill a white woman. i don't know if it's about a marginalized group reclaiming an element of power. the way violence against men is glamorized is unnerving but i think that it's sexualized in a way that calls into question the effectiveness of the sexual liberalization movement. in the musical Chicago, scantily clad women sing about how their men deserved to die because of the way they chewed their bubble gum and because of infedelity. if these had been men trivializing intimate partner violence by dancing and singing i would be sick. does it matter that these women sexualized their violence? i feel like violence as a whole is almost always sexualized so it's not as if this is an exception.
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[30 Oct 2007|10:56pm] |
i'm here now.
i don't know what else to say.
everything's easier when i don't say anything.
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[23 Apr 2007|01:04pm] |
he and i can look outside and see the same moon.
it makes me believe that everything is okay.
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[16 Mar 2007|01:01pm] |
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today is a beautiful day.
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| how to fight lonliness JUST SMILE ALL THE TIME |
[13 Feb 2007|03:11pm] |
i don't know what to say. i think that if i say anything at all it will be too much, but yet i am saying too little by remaining quiet. i lost so much faith in humanity over the weekend, so much faith and my heart feels heavy. there's snow on the ground now, so much snow and i can't see the ground beneath my feet. ice chunks fall and hit my head, refusing to allow me to forget the pain, even briefly. i wish that i weren't in indiana right now, not covered in two feet of snow, not walking to classes in which i am losing interest.
i wish things were better.
i wish the snow brought more life than empty.
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[01 Feb 2007|04:00pm] |
there are times when i think that i won't make it through the day
without him to come home to at night.
there are nights when i can't fall asleep fast enough
to ignore the numb aching empty that fills my bed.
there are photographs on my walls that are enough
to make me smile on good days
and cry on the bad days.
he shouldn't be on my wall. he should be
between my fingers
laced between my legs
inches away instead of states,
miles.
limbs entwined instead of
shifting for comfort
as i talk on the phone,
trying desperately to think of something to say
to make him smile
to make him proud
to show him how much i love him.
i study to tell him of success
i have told him of enough failure that even the
government
can't compete with my status quo.
but i try to make him proud, to make him remember me fondly.
A average in college.
15 hours of community service a week.
20 hours of employment per week.
but through each moment
An emptiness sits in my stomach.
i have grown accostumed to that hollow
in a way that breaks my heart.
Sometimes i wonder if he ever misses me
at night,
during the sunset
during perfect moments that we should spend together.
i take another shot.
i bleed a bit more.
i fill the void the best way i know how.
i talk of him to my friends.
a person who also pines for her distant love.
a woman who will also end a perfect relationship
due only to circumstance.
i sleep wrapped in the blanket that we bought in dublin
i wear the scarf that his mom gave me for christmas
i wear the shirt that he gave me when i left.
i wrap myself in his memory
in his ghost
in his abscense
in his promise.
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| no one came. |
[22 Jan 2007|11:17pm] |
i have pictures of him above my desk in my new room. multitudes of photographs of us laughing, smiling. i have a note that he gave me the day before i left for sweet briar. august 18 2005. Good Days and Happy Trails. Love, Doug.
i have pictures of Ireland on my wall, drawings that he's done of us, of the concept of us. i hang the calendar that we bought together at Borders the day after Christmas. 50% off.
Tonight i talked to him briefly. Eight minutes. i called after not talking to him since Friday when i called to say hi. He told me that he would call me later that night. Tonight he told me that he had to go, but that i 'should call him some time.'
i look at the pictures of us and wonder why i went wrong. wonder where i went wrong. why he won't be my friend.
we always smile in photographs. it's never forced. smiles with him have never been forced. either have tears.
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| ladies and gentlemen we are floating in space. |
[10 Jan 2007|11:19pm] |
i am back to school and the loneliness has seeped in again. trying to recreate a friendship with someone who was off campus last semester is not going well; people on my hall just love me, say i'm the cutest thing ever but i am not the person who they invite to parties, to just hang out. he is back in texas and bam! too busy to talk to me. i am creating an intentional distance between myself and the boyfriend. i am not eating and losing weight and it is about fucking time. i wish i could be more positive. i take a pilates class at 5:45am and the indiana air seeps into my bones, my veins and i am cold in a way that lingers throughout the rest of the day. no amount of irish breakfast tea can warm my body, as comforting as it is.
i am empty in a way that should be much more unsettling than it is. it is easy for me to find comfort, solace in solitude. it is safe. known. safe.
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| the first time i saw you i knew it would never last |
[03 Dec 2006|05:30pm] |
i just pissed off my boyfriend for talking about gender inequalities and i don't even know how sorry i am or if i'm sorry at all. i'm picking up doug at the airport on the 23rd. only 20 more days. after four months. i don't like many people right now. i think that i keep calling him my boyfriend because i need to keep reminding myself. i tell him that i love him when i don't and when we have sex i feel dirty. when he tells me that he loves me, i feel a little pin prick in my heart. i wish it were doug.
tonight you stooped to my level
i am your mangy little whore
you are trying to find your underwear
and then your socks and then the door
and you're trying to find a reason
why you have to leave
i know it's cause you think you're adam
and you think i'm eve
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[01 Dec 2006|12:59am] |
sometimes i am afraid of the noise that my silence makes.
i wake up to the wrong boy and i fall asleep listening to a mix that the right boy gave me after he broke up with me.
when i throw up i tell ben that it's just a stomach flu. he doesn't know that it's because i miss doug so much that the pain becomes physical and i fall.
i don't know. twenty two more days.
...
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[09 Nov 2006|11:42pm] |
words escape me now. this season brings too many memories, too many feelings, too much emptiness. perpetual tiredness, aching bones, cold blood through my veins and i don't even know what to say. i read too much poetry and spend too much time in my bed.
sometimes i just don't even know.
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| i'm in love with your ghost you're invisible now |
[20 Oct 2006|12:38am] |
sitting at the desk in my parents house. looking above my mother's computer at pictures of me at three, ten, fourteen years old. there is an empty spot when i am at home. my first time home in two months. two months since my last night with him. i look at my driveway and see the spot where his car should sit. i see the tooth brush that he left here on the counter in the bathroom. i see his side of my single bed and i see the desk where he used to play music from my computer.
it's strange to adjust to yet another place without him.
his mom sent my parents a thank you note after our family dinner. she sent it at the end of august, after i had left. she said that she misses me, that she hopes that our families will be together again at some point. she knew that he and i weren't together when she wrote that.
he and i speak of thanksgiving in new orleans. college in california. friendship. christmas. only two months to go. christmas.
i'm getting the word Pitseleh tattooed on my foot. and a peace sign.
empty.
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[23 Sep 2006|01:41am] |
today in my modern dance class we practiced rolling on the floor. we started at one end and rolled our way to the other, one body part leading the rest of me, slowly, quietly, gracefully. arched back and open legs and pointed toes and stretched arms and one hip following the other and i felt like i was having sex, but without him. i reached one arm out to my side as far as it would go, reachreachreached but he was not there at the other end. he was not there to touch my extended pointer finger. he was not under me as i rolled across the floor. he was not on top of me as i lie there with my back arched on the floor and my legs extended, open. Today was the first class that I feel as though I truly let my emotions dictate the way I moved. I guess there is no hiding that kind of thing.
There is a drunk boy asleep in my bed. His fingers were inside of me and his tongue was in my mouth and I feel very, very alone.
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| take your fast car and keep on driving |
[12 Sep 2006|11:57am] |
i don't know how many more ways i can say that things are different. it's raining and i woke up next to a boy who isn't the right one, as sweet as he is and as hard as he tries.
last night in my eating disorders group we were asked to recall the time we felt the most beautiful. i was asleep - the kind of sleep that you're just falling into, we were naked and i could feel his eyes on mine. he was touching my cheeck softly, with the tips of his fingers so quietly that i had to strain to hear, to feel. he brushed the hair out of my face and told me that he loved me even though he thought i was asleep.
my world is less beautiful when he's not in it.
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| sweet dreams (are made of these) |
[04 Sep 2006|01:34am] |
sometimes i feel like i know so surely that he and i are going to end up together that it doesn't matter what i do in between then and now. if he and i are going to end up together then it doesn't matter if i ever get over him. i can get drunk and kiss random boys and date people and form relationships and they don't need to mean anything because it's going to be him and me. with blue sheets and an apartment and moving around because we won't want to stay the same and it doesn't matter how many years are in between. i know that we will go from an inconsequencial 17 year old crush to a double bed with soft sheets and dishes and laundry that mixes just like when we kissed in the rain on the heart and then put our clothes in the dryer and the water and colors and fabric mixed and touched and became wet and then dry and progressively more of what we wanted them to be, to become. i feel like we progressively became more of what we wanted to be, or at least what i wanted us to be.
i was sitting in jon's room and this song came on.
I will rise up early and dress myself up nice
And I will leave the house and check the deadlock twice
And I will find a crowd and blend in for a minute
And I will try to find a little comfort in it
And I will get lonely
And gasp for air
And send your name off from my lips
Like a signal flare
And I will go downtown, stand in the shadows of the buildings
And button up my coat, trying to stay strong - spirit willing
And I will come back home, maybe call some friends
Maybe paint some pictures, it all depends
And I will get lonely
And gasp for air
And look up at the high windows
And see your face up there.
for all eternity.
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[03 Sep 2006|01:52am] |
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sometimes i really just don't know why.
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