I am SOOO sorry for trying to take your hat...
Bet you can't wait to tell your buddy about that one, can ya?
I have an itch and am trying reeaaalll hard not to scratch it. Probably I'm gonna lose this battle. But not the war. Never the war.

I know why I feel this way, but even so...am I just supposed to ignore certain feelings and emotions, pretend that I am really not feeling anything for a week or so, and then it's all better, back to normal? No. It's like being in a second skin. Becoming another part of myself that has heighten senses, thoughts and emotions. And no, I am not talking back to the voices, yet. They are all still external and throwing mad bullshit my way, whether I ask for it or not, but I have yet to lash out with real fervor. Only a matter of time, really, but such is me, and how I deal with life.

My goal, for the day, at least:
Settle down enough to enjoy the rest of my time here, so that I can remember St. Augustine fondly, and maybe for once in my life, miss a place. (Don't worry, San Fran, I'm coming back for you). Right, we'll see how that goes.

Siggghhh...
THE UNREST OF THE MONKEYS

Do you know that I missed St. Augustine, and talked about it positively while I was gone? Do you know that I am fairly certain now that I have lost my mind? Dear God, don't tell anyone.

I came home today to a cat who climbed me like a tree, *awwww*, 'cause she missed me, so that was nice. I stood in the doorway, happy to be home, ready to find some trouble to get into, and I was sad. My monkey was not here to share with. Mia is not really into story time. No one to show my funky shoes, no one to tell that there were fifty thousand fine guys to look at in the City that has lost their r's, not to mention the disquiet I have now that I discovered Boston wasn't what I wanted it to be...Who really cares, besides the #1 monkey and my parents? In wallowing in my own self-pity, I got to thinking, "God, if it's this bad for us, how much does it SUCK for her?" Here I am with Ashley and Matt within reach, my friends, my job, my drama. There she is, surrounded by beauty but no doubt one sad little monkey, to be away from everything like she is. So Alicia, I hope that you are well. I know that your are lonely, but I hope that you can take everything that you can from this situation. Not just being immersed in Spanish, but also how your heart feels now. How to deal with that. How to make something better when you really see nothing good in it. I love you, and miss you.

Now for the other Monkey. I hope that you are doing better than that last post. If you are, *whew* that was a close one. If not, think to a place where you are always appreciated and loved. You know where. Now nod and smile as you are thinking "yeah freakin' great. My car's a mess and people at work are butts, and Kelly's waxing all poetic and sappy on me." So as not to create that illusion, I will say, I (and hopefully Ashley) will be down there on Fri., and there will be drinking and presents and drinking, none of which you will have to pay for. It is your Birthday so you are the Birthday...uh...King!...Man!...Monkey! So suck it up, soldier! (I've been in the car for the past three days, cut me a break).

Not a word was written on this trip. Trepidation to try plagues me, once again. Am I doing the right thing?

I want to write about my day in Boston yesterday, but I can't spell some of the things that I would write about, so it'll have to wait until later.

For now, the recent goings-on in my addled brain:

Can't you take I-95 all the way down?
Could I deal with the abruptness of this city?
I promised myself not to live in fear, and I want to call, I really do, but the phone repels me like so much venom...this might be a longer process than I thought.
We'll see if it can be handled accordingly...

I dunno,Kel. You might have to stop thinking and just BE...

This is now.

I can't even muster up the tears anymore, God dammit. It's so typical, so expected, that it just becomes like breathing...this accepting of the terms and conditions. I knew it was coming, I could feel it in my blood, I looked at you and understood what you were. It was so subconscious and base that I didn't realize the true nature of the beast, probably didn't care to, but none the less, it surfaced from inside to grab air and make itself known. It used to hurt so bad...making me lose the air in my body, flushing my face, metally staggering my abilities until I was giddy and unbalanced. Used to. Now I just blink, exhale, make another tick mark, and walk away.

Vanity won, and was wrong.

Again.

I wrote this when I was around 15 or 16...all I have to say is good luck to all of y'all.

Wishful Thinking

Your face,
an open book.
Your lines,
Like lookin' through
a window into your mind.
Your promise more fragile
than a young girl's heart.
Your lies,
as predictable as an over-watched movie.
Your mouth -
Fresh
yet surprisingly sweet...
when it suits you.
A disturbed purpose
and a perfectly
warped meaning,
but a completely
Empty
Intention.


That was then. I'll tell ya about now when I have a coupla hours under my sleep belt.

Giving up all expectations...

As soon as I start typing, she will come. Why wait?

As soon as I make myself unavailable, they will beg.

What's taking so long?

Will Vanity win?

Why can't I finish ANYTHING?
I'm working on going with the flow here, truly.

I look around, and think strong thoughts. I move throughout, and am always impressed with the strength of my body. I sit down and feel, and that is where I find the weakness.

Such complex creatures we all are, to have such base, primitive emotions and goals. As high as we build those castles in the sand, the basement of the fortress is where all things that drive us are housed.

I don't know what's different, but I like it. It may be difficult, but it's stimulating, which I don't mind. Yeah, it's wicked to be confused during a vast portion of my life. Even more insane to be looking at something that I want right now, and not have it. But the real kicker? Being alright with that. Not allowing such events to shade my every mood. Finally being able to say and mean"If it's meant to be it will be."

So, soon I'll move on to being not so egocentric, thanks, princess.

Really, could the roller coaster mood swing bit move on to somebody else now? I'm kinda over it.

"Umm, this is not Burger King, have it your way, mmmkay?"
"Hi, my name is Sam, and I'll be taking care of you tonight. This is my friend George, say hi George!"
"And the ants, are in my shoes, AND THEY ARE BITING ME!!"

It is almost comical...I said almost. To feel like the lowest form of crap (what would that be, exactly?) one minute, and the next laughing, 'cause the fit that ya just threw was rather funny, then bummed out, because those poor horses do nothing all day but clop around in circles on the burnt asphalt, then annoyed about the dink of a tourist who insists on getting in the way, not on purpose but just by being there, "don't these people pay attention to their freakin' surroundings?" Hormones be damned, this is kinda fun! Who needs drugs!

And by the way, I should have to hand over my phone after one drink. The drunk dialing is getting waaay outta hand. Do you see? Do you see why I want to stop, period?

"Kelly. Your hommus is gonna be a while...we, uh, we lost the veg. for that."
"You lost the...what, did they sprout legs and walk out?"

I'm too tired to pretend, even.

The difference should pull me out of this sleepy little fog. But the sleep is like a drug…canceling my thoughts, numbing the incumbent and impending feelings. It’s hard to be a Guest House, as much as I believe it should be so. It’s hard to welcome them all, because even happiness can make someone wary. Having said that, I am enjoying these visitors. They’re helping me clean house.

How about a sharpy, a rabies tag, and a flashlight to constitute the entertainment divine...

what?

Sorry just trying to get the rusty fingers moving. More? Sure.

The sign on my desk is of Happy Bunny saying, "whatever, you moron." This is the mantra that I repeat in my head at work. Customers, co-workers, whoever, it's "Whatever you moron" until I can breath a clean, non-alcohol induced sigh at the end of the day. Until I can say to myself, "You have money in your pocket, you didn't let loose of your mouth, and you managed to keep from flinging dinner plates at the expo's head...ya done good."

These are things that I don't want to be proud of myself for.

If I have to bite my tongue, I would rather it be b/c I don't want to be overly-excited over a kid who is making great progress. If I have to be frustrated, I want the frustration to be a used emotion, a means to an end, instead of some fury that I have to write away or run off so that I can start fresh the next day. I want to be proud of myself for doing something for myself and others, not for constantly trying to keep my attitude in check.

The weekly "2nd & 3rd Mama therapy sessions" have told me simultaneously to "figure out how to be your kid again" and "stop lurking and just GO." What's funny is, for once in my life, even through the puzzling haze of indecision, I understand what my little universe is up to. When all is right, I will know. It never pays for me to second guess. I am trying to make it so that I won't do that. At least not nearly as much as I have in the past.

I WARNED YOU

I have something to say about all of this plastic surgery/alter my looks b/c I don't fit into that tight little barbie doll mold/I wanna look like everybody else madness that has been spreading like wildfire for the past couple of years. Where are the mothers? The families? The freakin' big brothers of America? The preachers and the Rabbis and the shaman? "Hello, God? *tap, tap* is this thing on? The Peace Corps, for cripes sake. 'Cause it's gonna take a legion of Peace to tame this mangled beast. Where are these people who take the little girls to the side and say "Kiddo. Make your OWN mold. Be the best YOU can be, not the best Mr.-Plastic-Surgeon-paying-for-my-vacation-with-your-insecurities can make you." Don't get me wrong. I am not going all women's lib on you people. I have the push-up bras and the bikini waxes. I get the pedicures and own way to many girlie products (I have like four different kinds of shampoo, see?)

I DO want you.
Make you mine and be yours? No. Just in as much as I want to know you, hear you're thoughts, sift through you dreams.
I AM interested in the person you are...you appeal to me physically and mentally, which is no small feat.
I KNOW that I am a quality person and worthy of your attention.
I'm TIREDof using you as a convenience and being one in return.
I DO run away.
I DON'T know how to handle this.
I AM fighting serious emotions, making me scared, confused, unsure, and silent.
I DON'T want this to affect me anymore. I want it to go away, make me stop the occasional pondering and flashes of what - ifs. Normalcy for once, just once, please.
AND fuck you for not trying or getting it. Yes, an irrational "fuck you" for not putting yourself out there when I won't either, for not understanding that it's all a facade, and for not feeling my cry when I am right beside you. STOP. Dammit. Stop showing yourself to be someone that I find interesting. GO AWAY or recognize me for who I am.

Christ, this is why I wish I was a boy.

Laughing on the inside is just not enough anymore.

What's funny is, the self-righteous thing is fueled by not being able to go about things on your own. As long as you have some one to stand behind you and gossip to when you get all high and mighty, you're golden. If you don't then who is going to help you stand up for what they told you was right? I mean, if you think about it.

A thought that I have to remind myself of again...you get what you ask for. So stop being all surprised.

I thought I put this up here earlier, but I'm fairly certain I did not...

What dreams may come might also be brutally honest…and there’s the rub.

Maybe it’s that I’m an only child. Maybe it’s that I have this grand delusion of what certain things should be like. Quite possibly I overreact, which is why I often apply the glue of control liberally to my lips. Certainly I expect too much, think too much, operate singularly instead of in plurals…right? I mean, to be disappointed with certain aspects of friendship is irrational, isn’t it. To be loved…but to love is the thing, really. Do I cast myself as the outsider? Is it because I am just trying too damn hard? Does it seem like I don’t need you? Because I do.

Somebody, help me out here.

And thoughts to come on that show on MTV - I want a famous face...or whatever in the Hell it is...

Where was Mario?
Where were you?
You'll have to forgive him...he has no soul.
"Revolutions. Better living through chemistry. We must resolve to evolve. perception is your weapon."

If I turn away from you...stop trying to dance with me. I like to dance...you gyrating and sweating all over me is really not conducive to the environment I am creating in my mind. It's all good - don't try the offended thing. I'm just a girl, on the dance floor. You can come, but by invitation only.

Gold, vodka, beer, and turkeys...will there ever be a day when I know better?

AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

That's me shrieking, by the way.

Why, you ask?

Good question, and as soon as my self tells me, I'll let you know.

Left Without Preface

What do I say to you?
You bring me my self-tortured soul
Wrapped up in a Tiffany’s box
With a white satin sheet that
Covers your navy side.
But not mine.
Huh.

What can I be to you?
When you come twice
To such a coveted conclusion
And I don’t even come close…
Beginning to feel like
This is chasing pixies in the mist,
But what, for all we care, right?

Really, what more can I ask?
This is a Frankenstein
That I have created
And nurtured
To the point of marveling
With dismay
At the piteous monster that it is still becoming.

Hate you?
No.
Want you?
Not really.
Picturing those others
When you are believed to be in my head?
Undoubtedly.

Is there something off beam
With “you’ll do for now?”
Because the white horse has arrived sans rider
Only to tell me that the prince will be late…
Ultimately it will be him and not you,
But until then let’s say you
Get back on that sway-backed nag and take his place

Heartfelt letters screaming with confusion
Monkeys could run this place better
If there was a solitaire competition, I would so win it...that's going on the quote board, isn' it?

I got all jumpy today - might have been the three cups of coffee that I INHALED...but who knows? I had an extreme emotions day today too...Hyper, annoyed, manic, frustrated, goofy with a touch of delerious, indignant, purposeful - all wrapped up into six hours that earned me 20 bones. Gotta love the service industry. OR not. It was actually a fun day I spent trying to entertain myself and others. To bad they were all in crap moods. And I refuse to dwell on the pit of swine that I lovingly call work, so...

Greer, you are in my prayers for a positive outlook and fast recovery.
Randy and Reet, I hope you find Jackie Brown. She's such a cool cat. My thoughts are with you.