Saturday, April 1

[true story]

Robert Palmer's "Addicted To Love" burst forth from my computer speakers and I am revelling in it. And not just because it's 9:20 pm and I'm now making the dryest martinis to grace god's green earth. Another kiss and you'll be mine. True. Story.

[a fifth is big enough]

mp3: "Delirium Trigger" Coheed and Cambria, "Mexico" Brandtson, "On Your Porch" The Format, "Tuesday On My Mind" Clear Static
My ex leaves a voicemail for me asking if he can come by and pick up his contact lenses (that he left here two months ago) this afternoon. He'll be in the area. Call back? Fat chance. I'm hardly in the mood to talk to him much less see him. Bitter resentment is an ever present facet of my personality lately, glittering under my tone regardless of circumstance. I'm letting my emotions run unstifled; I've finally become tired of knotting up my thoughts and trying to shush them. As long as I am being honest with myself, I am not ashamed of my words. Hours later, a knock booms my front door. I peer out the peephole with dread. And what do I spy with my little eye but a boy stepping back from the knock. He stands good posture-straight with a girl next to him looking idly about the area, surveying the many flowering spring trees and lake between the leaves. I love my apartment's view. I sit down promptly on my couch. My roommate borrowed my car. No one would know I was home. There is silence inside my home. No television or music this afternoon, there is only a near finished paperback copy of Sue Kidd Monk's The Mermaid Chair. A pause. A knock. A pause. A knock. I walk to the peephole and watch them following my stairwell down to the parking lot. His truck's familiar engine roll and they are gone.

I'm trying to so hard to be honest. My feelings know I won't crumple them into the wastebasket anymore but tonight it's hard to be honest. I wish I could stay angry. But I'm hurt. And rejected, again, by someone who used to love me. He found a clever way to injure me even if he wasn't sure that I was really home. I won't fall into a pile of tears on the floor. Instead I dive into a fifth of Jim Beam swimming to the bottom, hoping to float to the top tomorrow. It's a long night here by myself. I could do some really damage. Honestly.

I could argue with myself and say I love whiskey. And I do. I could say It's Saturday night and I don't have to be at work tomorrow until 4pm. And I do. Truth be told. My seeing him going out of his way to hurt me, to get back at me, to rub his rebirth in my face, to make the most of my sadness, to see my face fall, absolutely crushed me. Because I would never do it to him. No matter how much unhappiness and anger I associate with him, I would never have come to his door with another man. It turned me upside-down and re-released feelings I had soothed and stowed, trying to move on with my life with grace. I cried in anger. I bought a new pack of cigarettes. And now, I turn to drink. I don't want to think. I don't want to feel. I don't want to stand up. I want to function in safe mode, free of excessive notions and feelings. I want my thoughts to consist of simple observations and spill them from my tongue thickly into my cat's ears because soon, my roommate will be home and even though we're best friends, I don't know if I want her to know why my mascara has tracked down my cheeks.

Monday, March 13

[leaving on a jet plane]

mp3: OK Computer (album), Radiohead
It's official. I'm flying home to San Diego for two whole weeks come Thursday. I found a well-priced flight and I thank Karma; apparently putting up with busted-ass car and all of it's Indian-Burial-Ground-like happenstance has paid off. Fucking awesome. It still doesn't seem real. By the time it's all said and done, it will have been more than a year since I even saw my family, much less visit California. Can't. Wait.

Thursday, March 2

[just keep it going]

mp3: "Operate" Peaches
Tomorrow constitutes the longest day of my life. A full nine hour shift, and afterwards, yet another fantastic journey into the world of menial paperwork and indexing merchandise for the impending order. When a person spends all sun-up to sundown in the corporate mindset, it makes baby Jesus cry.

Tuesday, February 28

[why you gotta hate, lord?]

mp3: "Dancing in the Dark" Pete Yorn (cover), "Modelling Sucks" Handsome Boy Modelling School
A boy I was very interested in comes into my coffee shop every day, and the plan was to ask him out. This was big. The first boy I'd really had in my head since I had been with my last boyfriend. It felt good. I was moving on. I sit out in the cafe sorting through applications. There was a stack of two hundred. I broke it down to thirty, then ten, and finally seven. An employee came over to see which ones I had looked at. My co-worker looks over my shoulder and tries to pronounce a very long last name but can't. I take a stab at it. The boy I like turns around and looks right at me. I say it again and he says, yeah, that's me. My co-worker laughs and says Congratulations! you're in the call-back pile. He has been scheduled an interview with someone else. He is going to be hired; he's awesome and completely what we're supposed to look for in new hires. Too bad. Because I can't date anyone I work with. It would be unethical to date him before he got hired. If I asked him out and he said no, it would be horribly awkward once he was hired and I became his boss. True story. God intervened on this one. I better find out he's a stone cold ax murderer. Anything less and I'll be flat pissed off.

Monday, February 20

mp3: "Senorita" Justin Timberlake (don't hate), "California Waiting" Kings of Leon
Mid-March means going back to California for two weeks. Saying I can't wait is an understatement. I'm looking forward to feeling back in place. It isn't really home anymore; I'm in limbo, like every other twenty-two year old too scared to put down roots. There is no waiting to go where everything is familiar and loved and full of memories, to see old friends from high school and rehash the days of downtown sailor-dating, smoking pot between classes, and surfing until the sun set behind the pier.

Tuesday, January 31

[true story]

He moved out on Sunday. I couldn't be happier. Come payday I'm getting a tattoo to commerate the occassion: on my shoulder there will live a bluebird perched upon a blossoming cherry tree branch. Like I said. I couldn't be happier. I'm free and on my own and the thought... it makes me dizzy with joy.

Tuesday, January 10

[a good wallow]

mp3: n/a
I haven't been home in... two weeks, maybe? I sleep at friend's houses, coming home when he's gone for fresh clothes and to hug my overweight housecats. My mood has collapsed and lately being cheerful at work is too much to handle. All I hear all day is smile! c'mon, smile! what's the matter with you? are you okay? wanna talk? I love you, you know! smile! And it's killing me, it's driving me crazy and it shouldn't. My friends are worried about me and all I can think is why does something have to be wrong with me, is it wrong to be unhappy? Is it wrong to show it? Man, fuck you guys. I'm lashing out, quietly and privately, in my diary so that I don't actually say anything to hurt them. Fuck you guys. Fuck the phrase "you're not acting like you" and everything like it. I'm allowed to be unhappy. I don't have to be funny and silly and joke around if I'm in a shitty mood. I don't care if my being in a bad mood makes you uncomfortable. I don't want to go out and party. I don't feel like drinking and dancing. I... can't even put it all into words. In fact, I'm going to bed.

Thursday, December 29

[mild disappointment turns into recognition]

mp3: "Miss Misery" Elliot Smith, "Little Girl in Bloom" Ted Leo + Pharmacists
Today I spoke on the phone with the boy from work, chatting about this and that, finally turning the conversation to ask if he had a crush on me. He replied with a prompt no way. I let out a sigh of relief and told him I was glad since I was his boss, and really, just wanted a friend. He said the same thing and we promised to see a movie together on Friday. Upon hanging up, I realized just how upset I was. With myself. I took kind words from a boy I should never have a relationship with and turned them into something else because I feel unloved. That isn't fair. That boy at work is very sweet. I need a friend like him very badly. Never you mind that I really, truly thought he may have been interested in me. By any stantards, it was flirting. It doesn't matter now: I'm taking his words at face value and I'm looking forward to having a friend in him. I need a friend that doesn't smoke and drink up a storm.

Apparently, being rejected day and night from the ex-boyfriend you still live with piles up. And leads you to hang on the nice words you can have from someone instead of the words you want to hear from someone else. I guess. It has affected me a lot deeper than I thought. Than I want to admit. I don't handle unhappiness well. I chain smoke. I drink too much. I sleep over at a friend's house with a change of clothes in my car because I can't stand being at home. I don't want to be with him. I just don't want him to hurt me anymore. I'm tired of crying over this. I'm tired of sitting up late at night trying to think of ways to be happy and coming up empty-handed. I spent four years in love and being important to someone. Making that change isn't easy. I've been in love for so long, not having that to tie myself to when times are rough makes everything so empty and hollow. Now I'm sitting starry-eyed over a boy at work two years younger than me that says nice things, and I take it ten steps too far because I'm love-hungry and any chance I get to feel wanted is taken.

I kind of feel like I should post a note on my door and pack up my things in the night, leaving everything behind and driving to a new city where I can change my name and my hair color. Starting fresh. I don't know how much longer I can stay in my self-destructive phase. I don't know what to do anymore. I don't want to be so sad anymore. It feels like my days are spent hiding my sadness with smiles and jokes. All I want to do is sleep to make time pass faster.

Monday, December 26

[jameson whiskey]

mp3: Back to Bedlam (album), James Blunt
Tonight is music and good whiskey in a stout glass tumbler with three heavy ice cubes. I like the sound it makes. I've made a landmark decision. I will not be interested in a boy at work. It will only make everything difficult. I've had a bit of a crush on him for over a month, but larely it's grown awful since he's made it clear he's interested in me back. Too bad I'm one of his bosses. Best idea I've heard all day is to live and let die. If a relationship ever did ensue, I would be fired. Even if he quit so we could date, everyone would know and it would only negatively impact my role at work. As much as I wish I could get away with it or try it, the truth is, is that I'm the youngest person in my position for my company in the entire state. I am under scrutiny. I don't want any of my higher ups to chuckle and dismiss my poor judgement with a sturdy what did you expect, she's twenty-two because I'm better than that. Granted it irks me I can't date someone I would like to because of work, but then, it's for the best. How would my employees be able to respect me if I was caught flirting with an entry-level employee? It's too bad. He says very wonderful things to me that make my stomach tie up in knots and he has very wonderful blue eyes. We work together all the time.

The answer? Press onward with work, keep everything light and professional, and save quitting smoking for sometime in February. I'm proud of myself. This is a very adult decision to make. On the other hand, it feels like I'm compromising my traditional romantic bohemian nature, but one might argue all of that went out the window with a corporate job. Let's not get self-depricating. There are lots of boys around that would be interested in me. Too bad I liked this one so much.

Friday, December 23

[just like honey]

mp3: "Baby Doll" Cat Power
Tomorrow I start my Christmas shopping. My ex-boyfriend moved into the other room before he went home for the holidays. I've lost nine pounds this month. I still smoke a pack of cigarettes (moved up to Marlboro mediums) a day. Tonight I didn't drink, even though five of my friends are bartenders.

Tuesday, December 20

[mmm delish]

mp3: "West Coast Love Affair" Unrest
Tonight we're going to go and see an accoustic set of The Ataris at Big Daddy's. Not really into them so much, but I know a few guys in the opening band and it's only eight dollars. I like a boy at work. But I'm his boss and it would be unethical to pursue anything. Boo! to responsibility and ethics.

Saturday, December 17

[le whomp]

mp3: "Oh, Goddamnit" Hot Hot Heat
I've reached a new point of exhaustion: a zen-like futility in movement, where the blink of my eyes brings a tangle of eyelashes a new concept, the inability to draw away from anything only towards another beer.

Thursday, December 15

[sweet bouncing baby jesus]

mp3: "La Vendetta Dulce" We Are Lions, "Red Alibi" Sparta
Work makes me hate life. But I wish I could blame my lack of diary-journal love on work. But the meat of the matter is that my boyfriend and I still live together despite a tragic and very obvious need for us to be apart. We fight every time we see one another. I have been sleeping at a friend's house and going out every night just to avoid him. It's very juvenile. But. He left yesterday to see his family for the holidays. We fight in true wasp fashion. Delicate barbs and full eye contact. He brings out the worst in me. When ever our paths cross, I turn into a hateful, stern, and bitter girl, all raw emotions and cigarette smoke. Which is not who I am.

I am unable to go home for the holidays, which is a direct result of work. My family is slowly collapsing. My mother sounds depressed whenever I speak with her, my father is still stuck at work only able to come home on weekends, and my younger brother is still working as a bouncer inbetween classes in college. I have never felt so disconnected from my life. Today on the phone when I explained how trapped by work I had become, my mother responded with a simple Well, you need to make your family a bigger priority. Which was quite like being slapped, in the effect that my quick inhale was followed by silence and jolted response. I live three thousand miles away and I try my best. But. I have responsibilities that I promised to maintain. To work, to family, to friends, to myself. It makes me want to give up and move away, create a circle of friends and love them. Which I have already done amusingly enough.

It all infuriates me. With all the weeks spent away from home, I am overwhelmed by everything I want to write. I want to hurl words into my computer until I feel better about something, about anything. It's been weeks of anger and confusion and all my thoughts are bottling up life the cigarettes in my ashtray on the porch. The peek out the brim and all I can do is softly sigh and close the screen door.

Monday, November 14

[jesus tap-dancing christ]

mp3: "She Smiled Sweetly" Rolling Stones
Yet another trip out of town for work. I hate business trips. I hate being away from the circle of friends that has become so important. I always end up sitting around in my hotel room, reading or listening to music, when I could be doing something interesting. Lame. But this time I'm headed way down to Miami. I'm planning on a last ditch effort for some November tanning. Yes, next to business casual lays my swimsuit and sandals. Woot.

Friday, November 11

[wants and needs]

mp3: "Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore" Journey, "The Faint of Heart" Coheed and Cambria
I have officially given up on my relationship with my boyfriend. I wrote it down in my day planner as proof. I drove him to the airport, and upon dropping him off, he said he had found someone else to pick him up the following Wednesday. I popped the trunk, he gathered his luggage, and I drove away. The car had been running the whole time. I was relieved to see him go. I took a deep breath. My mind spilled observations and I was trapped noticing every nuance and gesture and sigh and eyes focused on something yet nothing. I gritted my teeth to keep my jaw from trembling, but in the end, tears gathered in my eyelashes and finally slid down my cheeks. How could I cry after all this time? It's been forever since I was happy with him. Crying in the car driving home with Willie Nelson on my stereo, I finally figured out that I was utterly devastated. After months of convincing myself I didn't even like him anymore, that I was looking forward to leaving Florida without him, I was in the end, crushed by his lack care and love. I had been rejected for the last time, where he had walked regardless of my feelings.

I have been wanting more for weeks. I'll always want more. How do you cope with the accusation of infidelity? My monogamy had never felt a burden, and I was destroyed, as if he'd planted a bomb in my belly.

I'm angry at myself because I let myself pin it all on Nathan. For a day, I considered being in love with him, so horrified at my own thoughts. Of course it would all be so easy if I were in love with my best friend. I would move to New York and there he would be, ready and waiting to rescue, to save me from the mean boy I had left behind. I can't really communicate the shame that comes with trivializing your relationship with your best friend to help yourself work through romantic bullshit. This morning I was struck by a solid mass of grief, mourning the loss of a relationship in a 2002 Chevy Cavalier at six thirty in the morning. I returned home to a shower and the very center of my queen-size bed.

Sunday, November 6

[wallow wallow]

mp3: "Sleeping and Waking" Lovely Quiet
It's been a long week. I lay down and sleep in my bed, dropping out with abandon. The holidays are coming fast and I'm preparing to celebrate them with friends. I smoked three packs of cigarettes yesterday and hung my head in shame, brushing my teeth four times to erase the taste of tobacco. My gums are still aching. I miss my mother.

Monday, October 31

[can't keep the rhythm, can't keep the beat]

mp3: "Beija Flor" Thievery Corporation
We were planning to go to Sunnyland and scare ourselves like mad, but once we realized that everyone and their mother would have the same idea (go go Halloween!) we put it on hiatus. In the meantime, last night we went to the Coheed & Cambria show in Jacksonville, opening bands were Sledg and Blood Brothers. Holy shit. I mean seriously. That show blew me away. Sledg were pretty good, great instumentals, especially lead guitar. The vocals were talented but the lyrics themselves were a little plain. Blood Brothers were doing their speed metal style and blasted my ear drums into oblivion. I'm not that into the lyrics being screamed at me because I have a hard time understanding them, but when the two who were singing actually sang, it was great. PS - the lead guitarist/back-up vocalist was super cute in the skinny blonde speed metal kid kind of way. Of course Coheed was amazing. They're so talented and the crowd was so into it. Their energy was a little lacking, but they have been on tour for three solid months. The music was spot on and the stage itself and the lights really added a lot to it. My friend Amy is great friends with the drummer, so after the show we all met up, they set us up with beer and Jack & Coke, and we hung out on the bus for an hour or so. Fucking sweet. But we had to leave, because we all had to work or go to school. The car ride with the four of us was nothing but fun. Good times. Dig it. Time to get ready for work.

Thursday, October 27


mp3: "A Grand Don't Come" The Streets, "Meet Me By The Water" Rachael Yamagata
Late last night we drove down Blairstone Drive and the four of us sat out in my car, staring up at an old abandoned hospital. We are planning to go inside tomorrow night as a group with flashlights and a digital camera. There's a tear in the chainlink fence around back where, over the last ten years, thousands of high school and college students have walked through the loose-hanging double doors. It's the Sunland Children's Hospital, built in the early 1920's and was used up until the late fifties to house and treat mentally ill children. I thought my friends were just fucking around with me. I'd always assumed that it was an old factory that couldn't be torn down because it was full of asbestos.

One of my friends had been showing us pictures he had stored on his computer from when he and others had visited the site last year. They were unnerving. There were photos of mangled hospital beds and old mattresses, the windows were blacked with ropey vines all the glass punched out, there was plant life and thick sheets of green mold covering floors and walls, there were pictures of tiny doors a foot off of the ground in every wall. Then there was a picture of a small stone interior of a room, no windows, no lights, but cold and small. I was told that this was behind every Little Door. That they had stuck their heads inside and saw a space small and tight, minds racing they hoped it wasn't used to keep children in. There were photos of bathtubs lined up, but only inches deep, with wires and hoses snaking out of them, ending in raw wires.

Sunland Children's Hospital was shut down because of horrific child abuse that had resulted in the death of a boy. We're heading in there tomorrow night, and I'm not even kidding, I may not be able to go in once we get there. We're going at noon and we'll stay together, roaming the 53,000 square foot facility for only two hours. The two that have been inside before said that all of the plant growth on the building itself cushions the noise from the traffic outside (it's honestly in the middle of town, very close to the state capitol) so that all you hear is dripping water. It's nothing but concrete and metal inside.

I have an overactive imagination. I thought that places like "sunnyland" were only in bad teen slasher films.

Monday, October 24

[driving on Interstate 10 = lame]

mp3: "Philosophy" Ben Folds, "Love is Only a Feeling" The Darkness
We went to the NIN concert in Jacksonville. After an entire day of enjoying the beach one last time before the seasons change, we spent the evening listening to 80's cover bands: Venture (Journey), The Jalopies (The Cars), Magnums N Blossoms (Guns N Roses). Good times. Conversely, returning to town was sad times indeed. Mid-terms are coming and that means that every Sally-and-Joe Scenester will be sat down at The 'Bucks with heaps of books, struggling to figure out what classes they've even been taking thus far (FYI: our dear state college hasn't left the top five Party School list in over a decade... just saying). I'm not hateful, except I am. But then last night I may have gotten mad drunk, made out with my best friend, had a slumber party with seven good friends and two bottles of Absolut Apeach (oh, we're such girls/gay boys), so maybe just maybe I woke up from it an hour ago and have a raging headache - sure to be cured by the goings outs of tonight, two for one at Big Daddy's. A little bumpngrind and dirty bar makeout never hurt a girl.

Tuesday, October 18

[long day]

mp3: "All The Pretty Girls Go To The City" Spoon, "Angie" Rolling Stones
Tonight I was going to tell a story about me at seventeen. But I'm exhausted, so I'm going to take a hot shower until the water runs cold and then head to bed. Suffice it to say, instead, that I hide dark green eyes behind very business-like tortoise-shell glasses because I've spent a lifetime feeling unremarkable, an image I like to preoject at all times. I'm of the firm opinion that if you set low enough standards for yourself, every day can be a victory. But! Tomorrow, or today as it may be (1:15am? sheisse), the afternoon regardless, will be regaling tales of the first boy that ever crushed my heart. I thought about him today not because I wanted to, but because a friend sent me an email to pass on information he was getting married. Hmm. More fun news like this en route, I can only imagine. People I don't like finding happiness before me. Sour grapes are tasty (sour's my favorite flavor).