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.

I miss you incredibly. It arrives in waves, rising and falling with my mood or how much I am affected by the idiots around me. I dreamt about you - you were happy and strong, and I was glad that you were there.

This was last night. A few drinks, a ride home from the new impossible, and no possibles on the horizon, and this is where my mentality ended up. Moving right along.

* The following is a note to a friend whose blog I have been reading (not sure if she knows it or not.) Anywho, I tried to post a comment on her blog and, wonder of all wonders, damn thing was too long. So I'm putting it up here. I'm sure some will find this ironic, 'cause really it's what many of you people tell me! *

Sweetie! The fact that you are so hard on yourself is a good and a bad thing! Good in that you realize the personal obstacles you face, but bad in that you are beating the crap outta yourself. Stop it! You are learning life as it rides through everyday ups and downs - that's ok! Figure out what you want, don't want, need, don't need, what works, doesn't work, then understand that you will take one step forward and 5 million back before you get it right sometimes. I don't know what your state of mind is today - but you are sweet, intelligent, beautiful and funny, and you deserve to care for yourself as much as we do! If you ever want to chat, get my email from my monkey, 'k? Sorry for the novella.
P.S. Don't hate me for being all motivational speaker-esque.

Feeling a little deflated. A little like the excited balloon has been relieved of all of its air. Only there was absolutely no reason for the excited balloon to be inflated in the first place. I am definitely fighting the doldrums.

Thought of the day: You have trashy novels, and you have thought-searing literature. Then there's threads and kicks that will fall apart in three days because they are cheap, or the quality clothing that lasts forever. Moving on to slack-ass messengers of laziness, and those that will forever come behind them and carry their iron weight.

Ok now, discuss..

Catch Phrase is a fun game...who knew?
What a smart ten year old!
And guess what? MY FOOT STILL HURTS!

Ahem. I'm feeling very smart right now, nevermind that Jon (thanks, man!) practically drew me a picture to show me how to put my e-mail up (shhhh! Don't tell! I'm pretending to be computer savvy!) And there it is -------> Over there somewheres. So, let the feedback begin! G' night!

"You are not excused from social hour..."

I love you guys!

Oh, and I changed the blog a little. Trying to put my e-mail up there somewhere...a little help?

If I was you, I would hate being like everyone else. Ew.

Late night conversations with another Impossible.
I can't believe I really did that.
Hey, I ran nine miles, busta! Now my foot hurts.
Are ALL people really as awful as they seem?

Just catching y'all up on the week.

*********************

So a few people other than family have been here now *bites inner lip in trepidation* It appears to be all of the good that it can be, and I am glad for the feedback. Thing about it is, (something that I have to work on) is that I come here to vent. Rant. Be vexed. Fuss. Contemplate. Mull over. Ya get the idea. I don't come here when I am in all kinds of a great mood. And I'm thinking that I should. Writing has always been my therapy. It is the tool that I use to plaster things back together inside my head. I'm thinking if I start recognizing the lighter side of me, I can lay off on the melancholy a little bit. Not too much now, I'm not trying to scare myself or anything...I feel that I am being redundant at the moment, and this motivates me to get to the point. From now on, in addition to (b/c I think the manner in which I transcribe my stuff is what makes me unique) the usual "hey world, go find a poker game and leave me alone" attitude, I'm gonna try to start relating some of the funny/bizarre/interesting/breathtaking/great cool wonderful things that happen to me.

And my foot STILL hurts.

I am a lover of fabulous conversations. Ones where neither party is complaining or smack talking or worrying or telling of a recent event, but where a higher level is achieved. Philosophical, if you will. Theoretical, too. Maybe a little bit with the opinions and ideas that are so unique to an individual. Deep breath, and...too the point, Kelly! I had one of those Sat. night. A good old conversation about God that actually made me think.

My attention is evading my control, so I'll be back to this later...oh boy.

The sheer distinction alone
making you stand out
has become the ability
to notice me -
if I smile
you see
that I inhabit the same space.
if you are allowed
an unfiltered angle of my eyes
you might understand
that I am
scared
not mean
uncertain
not aloof
it all comes down
to the fated stars aligning
a siberiean window of being
coughing at the right time
or simply whether or not
I choose to lift my face to meet you