I don't know what you came here for; it's almost that I wish we hadn't met at all...

Ooh...I'm blogging. It's been a while. I'm always thinking about it, but I never do it.

There's just so much that I want to say...so much that I'm thinking.

I'm tired of people popping in and out of my life. I've never been good with "sometimes" friends. I don't understand conditions on friendships or relationships. I realize that everything is conditional, but still...must we make conditions and then not tell me about them? For instance, I do not understand how someone can beg me to stay online and talk just a little while longer, and then not speak to me again after that. I do not understand how someone can talk to me for months, be one of my closest friends, and then cut all ties with me outside of Facebook and occasionally tagging me in a note. They may think they're throwing me a bone to make me feel better, but it really just hurts more. If you don't want to speak to me, don't rub it in by tagging me in a note just to remind me that you remember me. I'd rather think that you have forgotten me completely, like maybe someone told you I died and you had done your mourning and moved on. If you're not interested in having a conversation with me, don't comment on my pictures. I just...I don't even know how to explain it. I hate the internet. I hate what it has done to interpersonal relationships. I hate that people think a "friendship" consists of appeasing someone by occasionally commenting on their Facebook. Boo. I hate when people can't commit, be it to a friendship or anything else. I hate it so much because I am the girl who will always be there. Boys have a huge tendency to take advantage of this quality. It truly sucks to be the person who always holds on, always tries, always works to keep the relationship (whatever it may be) afloat, and rarely sees the effort reciprocated. Mmmmmeh. Oh well.

I wish I were a lyricist. I can write poems all day long, but lyrics elude me. They feel silly and contrived. I do love music, though. I really do.

I've been stuck in a terrible rut lately. A day of fun always snaps me out of that for a while, though. It's interesting, because one good day will last me a week, keeping me in better spirits...but after a bit the mood fades and I'm right back where I was. I feel almost like my old, happy, free self again. It's nice. I need to move forward and stay there. I need new friends. New, dependable friends. I notice, though, that the older we get, the less likely we are to want any more "real" friends than we already have.

I'm falling asleep in my chair. I really should go to bed. I wish I could think of more things to write about, though. I don't write enough, and it's cathartic. I miss it.

And, as a P.S. - I was told to look up a psychrometric chart today. If you don't know what it is, you should look it up. It gave me more respect for my local air conditioning specialist...

Hey! Get get get get get over it.

I can no longer see myself living a life where a new wreath or new curtains are exciting to me. I can no longer see myself living a domesticated lifestyle. I am very domestic, but my life will not be. I don't know what life holds for me. I suppose no one ever really knows what life has in store for them. I listen to my niece talk about starting kindergarten and I think about how much life has in store for her. I know I'm only twenty-five, but it feels a lot like life has passed me by. I'm not the only person who feels like this, either. Twenty-five is an awful age to be, particularly when you have yet to do anything with yourself. It feels as though you should be a grown-up, with the start of a career and a family and making decent money...yet most of us are working menial jobs if any, living with our parents and trying to figure out what in the world we're supposed to do to step off the ledge and into life. I'm tired of trying to figure out other people's lives for them when I can't even figure out my own.

My family is currently annoying me, therefore I cannot continue blogging. Blah.

We'll go and we'll go and we'll go and we'll go, let's go......

Sometimes I feel like the more I get to know people, the less I like them. And sometimes it takes meeting new people to see other people in a new way. I've seen a lot lately in people that appalls me. Maybe I've just become bitter and cynical. I feel like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders sometimes. I am someone that people depend on. I am responsible and capable and strong, and sometimes I just want to collapse under the pressure. I try to endure...but sometimes I just need a break. I've become terribly detached lately. I don't think it will stick, but for now, it's almost nice....minus the terrible guilt I feel about it, of course.

I just want to take off somewhere and be lost for a while. But I won't. Because I feel a great sense of responsibility, not just for myself, but for everyone around me. Probably more for those around me than myself. Which is why comments like, "it's all your fault" go more to heart for me than they do for others. I can't help but feel responsible for things when that's floating around in my head all the time.

I'm not dysfunctional. I just function differently. Meh.

I need to call Crystal. Maybe I'll blog more later. I dunno....

Hello, dark place, it's me again....

I wrote two new poems today. They're a little conflicting. Whatever.

Signs

I ignored all the signs because I didn't want to see them
I don't want to see them
The music is dead
I can't seem to breathe
So caught up in this suffocatingly sticky tangle of emotions
Tears rise and fall and stop dry before they hit my cheeks
My mind telling me nothing's really wrong
My heart telling me I've got it all mixed up
My body giving in
My soul sliding away
Lost and troubled
Nearly gone
I can't bear the turbulance anymore
I don't want to have to
I don't want to need to
I want to numb the pain
And there's only one way I know how
Now friends
Gentle reminders that I am loved
Useless
They aren't what I'm looking for
Because I already have them
I am impossible to please
And fear I will never be happy
Sleep now, body
Sleep now, mind
Rest now, soul as you leave this behind

and....

I Promise

I promise you that this is the end
I promise you that I will not take it anymore
I promise you that I will move on
And be a better person for it
I promise you that I will not forget you
Or any of the things you've done
For those things urge me forward
And away

That last one I wrote first, and it has two separate uses...it's both a positive poem for someone I like, and a negative poem for someone I greatly dislike.

Anyway, whatever.

And he wonders aloud why feelings so strong make the body so weak...

Secrets don't make friends and friends don't keep secrets. Secrets and lies. Yuck.

I had all kinds of things to write about...now I've forgotten them because I just spent close to an hour on Zoo World. Ew.

I'm really tired, and my stomach hurts. I'm not going to bed yet. I'm not sure why. I'm just not.

I found out a certain someone from my past was in a wreck and was injured and I couldn't help but think they kind of deserved it. And then I felt guilty for thinking that.

My hands feel dry. I don't like that feeling. Also, I'm cold as heck.

I really should just go to bed. I'm not going to be able to think straight enough to write anything worth reading.

I have to try to remember what songs I'm singing tomorrow so that I can make some lyric sheets for people to sing along to.

I can remember 3 of 5 so far. That's a good start.

I wish I'd gotten a video of that squirrel eating the cupcake...and fighting the pigeons. And a picture of that beautiful blue jay.

Right now I'm talking to people from my past and it's curious.

Today is a weird, anxiety-ridden day.

I want to work out. I think tomorrow morning. Neither of those things were complete thoughts. I think tomorrow morning I'm going to work out. A lot.

Sometimes, I like to sit and just listen and try to pick out what exactly it is I'm hearing. It's kind of difficult. Like, sometimes you hear things you don't even realize are there. It's a fun game to play with other people, too.

I don't understand lies. I don't understand what purpose they play. I don't like them because they just make me feel more guilty in the end. I think they make everything more complicated. I think they're bad for everyone. I think they seem appealing, but they tear things down in the end. I think telling half-truths is frustrating, too.

Oh, well.

The truth is a bitter friend...

This Side
Nickel Creek

One day you'll see her and you'll know what I mean
Take her or leave her she will still be the same
She'll not try to buy you with her time
But nothing's the same, as you'll see when she's gone

It's foreign on this side
And I'll not leave my home again
There's no place to hide
And I'm nothing but scared

You dream of colors that have never been made
You imagine songs that have never been played
They will try to buy you and your mind
Only the curious have something to find

It's foreign on this side
And the truth is a bitter friend
But reasons few have I to go back again

Your first dawn blinded you, left you cursing the day
Entrance is crucial and it's not without pain
There's no path to follow once you're here
You'll climb up the slide and then you'll slide down the stairs

It's foreign on this side
But it feels like I'm home again
There's no place to hide
But I don't think I'm scared

******

This song expresses so much of what I feel so often. So different from everyone else. Sometimes, I feel like I experience life in a way that no one else ever has. I guess, though, that, since we are all unique individuals, we must all experience life differently, and that's what makes it so interesting. If we all felt the same all the time, life would be boring. I just feel so...weird sometimes, you know? Like, there is no one else in the whole world like me. I am an anomally. Oh well...just let the lyrics speak to you how they will, I guess. I love Chris Thile. I love the way he writes. Man, I wish sometimes that I could manipulate language the way some people do. My stuff feels absolutely weak, comparatively.

Meh. ;)

"I had to kill someone to get this drink."

I wrote this poem exactly a year ago...I figured it was time to post it. My how time changes things...and how quickly.

We walked among vagabonds and vagrants
Taking in all the sights, sounds, and fragrance
Of the city on a hot summer's night
You handed me fluff and some flowers
As we wound down the small morning hours
In the glow of Saint Anthony's light
That bounced off the river and fell on the street
Catching short glimpses of our road weary feet
Black now, though they started out white
We bought sno cones and spilled some but we didn't care
Too caught up in the beauty that hung on the air
As we relished each breathtaking sight

I really don't like the end of that one, but oh well. I don't generally write poetry that rhymes...but I made en effort for someone.

******

Anywho, I wrote these two things around May, so I figured I'd post these, too.

Walking circles around this old room
Kicking up memories like dust
And choking on them
I'm missing people I barely knew;
Nostalgic for moments that never happened
It's lonely in the past
There's no one around to remember
But me
I've traced my name in those dusty old memories
And now they're mine - all mine

******

My past is eating cupcakes and sharing ice cream. It's staying up for days at a time and listening to the same song over and over. It's wandering cold streets in the middle of the night and watching tears flow down dry cheeks. It's hanging in a window for hours at a time and sitting in a coffee shop all night. It's delivering more flowers than we could fit in a car and singing and laughing along with each other. It's trying too hard and almost making it. My past is what has made me. I have been molded and shaped and eroded and worn into exactly who I am, and time is not finished with me.

******

Anywho, yeah...just felt like posting some old stuff. Had a really great night last night. It's fun being reckless and irresponsible...though it's weird when strangers take your picture...which has happened to me a lot, actually. Weird.

Got nothin' but time

Holy moly I'm bored. I'm watching Bella and wasting time on the internet. I hate when I get used to doing something all the time, 'cause then when I don't have anything to do, I feel gross. I felt like that a lot right after I moved home after living in Brownwood for 6 years. I always had something to do in Brownwood. I had lots of people that I could call and hang out with, and if no one could hang out, there was always something close by that I could do, like walking in a park or something. Now, everything is at least 30 minutes away and I only have a few friends here (even fewer friends who don't have husbands or children to care for).

I don't know exactly what I'm looking for...but I'm looking for something. I guess it's that emptiness we all feel sometimes. I guess we can't help but try to fill it with something. I fill it with people. I'm not the kind of person that can just have a lot of superficial friends. I need deeper relationships, which generally require having fewer friends, since more time is spent with them. blah blah blah, I don't really know what I'm talking about.

I'm just typing to give myself something to do. It's not quiet enough for me to focus on writing. I hate not having the internet at home. It makes writing next to impossible, because I have too many distractions. Fussy babies and obnoxious people and televisions and noise. Dang, Gina.

What's new, Scooby Doo?

But I, I don't mind...

I have so much on my mind at the moment that I almost can't process it all into functioning sentences. I'm currently listening to people speak some Asian language, and some people beyond them speak in Spanish about "I Love Lucy." I find that writing about what's going on around me tends to help me focus on what I actually want to write/think about.

I've discovered that people are liars. I guess I already knew this on some level, but it's become far more obvious to me lately. Heidi and I were discussing playing "the game" and how I don't. Part of why I don't is because I don't really know how. The other part is that I absolutely don't want to. I can't be anything more or less than me. I cannot make myself out to be anything other than exactly what I am. The funny thing about that is everyone I meet views me differently. Some people see me as strong and confident and capable, and others see me as weak and in need of protection and assistance. I don't know. People are strange to me. Fascinating, but strange. I was thinking about two of my favorite quotes today, "The best way of life is to be, simply be." (off the tab from a bag of tea) and "I would rather be hated for who I am than loved for who I am not." (Kurt Cobain) I completely agree with these statements. In fact, if I were to whittle my ideas down to a few quotes from other people, these would definitely be two of them. I know a lot of angsty, anarchist, teeny-boppers quote Kurt Cobain a lot, but I don't agree with it because I think I should be different from everyone else. I agree with it because it's exactly how I think. I can't help but be me, and I'd much rather people hate me for exactly what I am than love me for being something I'm not. Identity. How bothersome.

The people near me smell like weird cologne and coffee. I am in a coffee shop, so I suppose that's to be expected, but still. It bothers me. Also, my internet keeps connecting and disconnecting, and that's inCREDibly annoying to me.

I had a terrible day at work today...and have for the last few days. Kids don't listen anymore. They don't do as they're told. Maybe they never did, I don't know. I'm just disgusted at how often I have to repeat myself, and they still don't do what I've told them. I try my best not to lose my temper and shout at them, but sometimes it's next to impossible.

I have no boy in my life anymore. No boy that I'm interested in, anyway. I feel like I've lost some sort of muse in that. I can still write sad poetry, still express myself, but it just seems kind of....weird now. I write more about others and less about myself.

I wish I could write like Jason Mraz. I love his lyrics. He is a genius. I wish I could focus my brain right now, but there's too much going on around me, and whatever is floating around in my brain apparently isn't all that ready to be written down yet. Whatever.

I swear, 2/3 of the people here right now aren't speaking English. Or they're speaking half-English. I don't know how to feel about that. It's interesting, but weird to me.

Ahhhhh....whatever.