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visible, tangible, real... love? [22 Apr 2007|12:25pm]
Perhaps the most important thing we ever give each other is our attention.
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Wow. And to think someone wrote this about me. [11 Apr 2007|10:06am]
Reading the words that you've written stirs within me such a strange jumble of feeling. I see a brand of love and optimism that is completely foreign to me, yet reminds me of a young man I once knew and feels like returning to a home I've seldom had and fear I'll never find again. I read words of tolerance and understanding and fear and confusion and self-determination and love and love and there's that damned love again. I don't know how to explain it. I always want so badly to explain precisely what I mean and leave no room for error and waste no time trying to spell out anything that wouldn't lend to complete comprehension. But really, I just don't know how to explain it. I'll try until I'm short of breath and numb of finger, and keep on trying to try for a good while after that. So here's a little bit more of that effort. You remind me of me. A me that I only scarcely believe in anymore, that I only see on rare days when the planets and chemicals align just so. You remind me of the me I used to love being, and also the me I looked forward to becoming some day. You remind me of the me that I hear sometimes in my head, but never seems to show up in any mirror. You remind me of the things I most love about myself, whether I can find them at the time or not, and the things that I love most about people in general, and the things that I love about life and the world at large. I remember fighting with you, and I remember thinking that you seemed so oversensitive to things, and it never occurred to me that I have always been and will probably always be just as sensitive. "Over", "hyper", and "too" are modifiers I no longer place much stock in. Though my memory is fuzzy, I apologize for whatever differences, disagreements, and disputes we had between us. I apologize for anything mean that might have been said and any hurts that may have been caused. You are, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful people I have ever had the privilege of even slightly knowing, and I can say without a moment of hesitancy (save perhaps to phrase it properly) that you are a woman worth all of the love in this world, and that I love you.

You remind me of the love in my heart during a time when I'm so often certain that it is forever lost to me.
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! [22 Mar 2007|02:12pm]
Dear Self;

I’m going to make some changes.
I swear.
Even if it hurts.

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If you don’t expect too much from me, you might not be let down. [13 Mar 2007|05:00pm]
[ mood | hopeful ]

A non-poetic post for my rather un-poetic day.

It’s funny how other people know me better than I know myself sometimes. I’ve been looking for a way to explain this emotional phenomenon of mine, and so far Tom has put it the best:

“You just have to remember that people aren't going to stop caring as fast as you do, and they probably have a hard time believing that you can when they can't themselves, I’m not saying let them believe what they want or anything, but try to empathetic instead of so hostile, its hard to stay friends with someone that turns every encounter into an awkward personal attack… which I admit also, is going to be really hard to do as I imagine you’re just getting absolutely fed up with the whole scene and you just want out. I just think trying to leave peoples heads attached to their necks on the way out would be a nice thing to do”

Now, I don’t know if it’s that I stop caring so much as the fun and intrigue of something new gets overwhelmed with my irritability, etc. (This doesn’t generally happen with activities or literature topics or anything like that. I mean, sure, I get bored sometimes with things like that, but I can just drop them and move on. No pressure, no obligations, no guilt. Selfish? Yes. But honest.) This contradictory emotional change-over happens with people—with relationships, friendships and otherwise.
Not everyone, mind you.
Just a good majority.

The harder they push for it, the harder I push away.
My apologies; in retrospect I suppose I am a little vicious when I’m feeling trapped.

It’s hard for me to find a relationship where when I back into a corner (for whatever reason) they don’t push so hard as to drive me up the wall.

I’ve luckily developed a few friendships that are equal pressure—kind of a relationship of individuals, without interdependence. Just each enjoying the other without relying on them. Without expecting too much or too little. Does that make sense? With these people we’re just as good of friends if we hang out every day as compared to if we hang out once every few months or every few years.

I guess what I’m trying to milk out of this is a big giant “Thank You” to the people who have been there for me and haven’t given up—and also a big giant apology for the folks who continue having to put up with the inhuman side of me. I know you don’t mean to upset me, and please understand that I don’t mean to be so hostile.
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Her wingspan’s all feathers and coke cans, and TV diners and letters she won’t send. [18 Feb 2007|10:13pm]
She sat right down on the sofa and said;
“Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for you.
‘Cause last night I had something so good.
These days get so long and I’ve got nothing to do.”
We spent all day getting sober.
Just hiding from daylight, watching TV.
Well, I got all this time to be waiting for waiting for what is mine,
To be hating what I am after the light has faded.
Way, way, way too long.

I’ve spent a good deal of the last few hours looking at my old blog entries on my abandoned LiveJournal. --“Man I ain’t changed, but I know I ain’t the same.”—I still listen to the same music, still play FreeCell when I’m upset, and still cry when I’m angry…However, I was a lot more articulate back then, which troubles me. Have I digressed? Was this a sudden change that I just didn’t notice? No. I’d notice something like that. I think perhaps it was just subtle change that happened over an extended period of time.

Do I seem dumber to you?

I also don’t talk about the same things I used to. But that’s probably because I don’t have the same friends I used to. I mean, sure, all my friends from high school are still technically my “friends”, but the majority of us don’t really talk all that much, let alone hang out. I’m paranoid enough to think that most of them probably hate me and are just talking to me (on those rare occasions that we DO talk) out of some guilt-induced feeling of obligation.

Do you secretly hate me?

I’m more nervous than I was then.
More paranoid.
More anxious.
More worried.
More “troubled” in general.

I’ve turned into one of those people that always irritated me. You know the ones—the people afraid to get hurt. I’m going to go ahead and blame it on my last few job choices, seeing as office jobs seem to suck the youth right out of a person. I’m dying. I’m socially dying. I’m emotionally dying. But, as said in Harold and Maude, a lot of people enjoy being dead. But they’re not dead, really. They’re just… backing away from life. What I need to do is take the advice away from that movie instead of just the words; “Reach out. Take a chance. Get hurt, even! Just play as well as you can.” I just… I don’t know anymore. I get into a situation—especially a “good” situation—and I panic. I go into it fearing the worst “… so rather I’d just prepare myself by doing the emotional equivalent of waving a big stick around in the middle of a pitch-black room after hearing a suspicious sound. And, hopefully, I’ll hit whatever the thing is that may be about to put a knife in my back. Am I really that scared? Scared to the point of paranoia? Or am I psychic? Do I feel something inevitable coming? Or do I feel nothing at all?” I just… I feel like I’m afraid of everything, anymore “… but it’s almost the abhorrent thought of it that makes me want to run screaming into the center of that fear. Like a moth to a flame. It’s hypnotic. On the other hand, maybe my feet are cold because I’m finally seeing a long-held goal come within reach. And I don’t know what I’ll do without the dogged pursuit… what will drive me? I’m scared of getting what I want. I’m scared of not getting what I want. I’m scared of not knowing what I want. Or realizing that what I thought I wanted is not what I actually want. What?”

She don’t want nobody home, ‘cause it’s a little too crowded then.
But she don’t wanna be alone, so they just keep pouring in.
Pretty whitewashed lies
Endless alibis
And the reasons that need cleaning every night.
Half a world away
You can’t wash away
The stain of the deceiving
And the thing that you cannot believe
And well
She don’t want no one around
‘Cause she don’t want anybody to see
What she looks like when she’s down
‘Cause that’s a really sad place to be.

Aside from my epiphany that I really don’t like who I’m becoming, I did have a very good weekend.

* Dear Friday: Thank you for making me realize that the group of folks I’ve been hanging out with recently really DO like me for me. I was so worried that they were just hanging out with me out of pity or obligation, but I don’t think it’s that at all. They’ve like, adopted me. I just… I love you guys. Thank you.

* Dear Saturday Morning: Swallow a knife, please.
PS: Tell my car to get better or do the same.

* Dear Saturday Night: HOLY FUCKING SHIT! Blue October was phenomenal.

* Dear Sunday: Thank you for letting me relax. I love you Nick.

PS: I have HUGE, Wiley-Coyote hands. You know, for those of you who didn’t know.

I had so much that I wanted to write and I just can’t seem to find the words. They’re escaping me at the moment and I’m getting kind of upset with myself. Forgive me, please.

Forgive me, also, for being so down lately. I really don’t mean to complain constantly and bring you all down with me, but it’s so hard to keep myself to myself sometimes and I forget that I have the tendency to repeat myself and people get sick of hearing the same “woe is me” storey over and over again. I just need to get out of my rut and learn to appreciate myself for who I am instead of hating it.
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The only way to find true happiness is to risk being completely cut open. [04 Feb 2007|11:56pm]
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what you feel only matters to you. it's what you do to the people you love that really matters. [01 Feb 2007|11:46am]
Seeing as I’ve been stuck on hold with the USTPO Initial Patent Examination office for the last ten minutes, I might as well do something productive with my time and write.

There seem to be many things I’ve taken fro granted. But lately it’s been my personality and thoughts. I just assumed they didn’t need to be exercised and defended and brought out for show-and-tell. That they would be there as I am here now.

I’ve been so erratic lately.
I’ll change within a week—back and forth, highs and lows.
Trying all my theories together and then dismissing them all with one that was exactly the same.

I’ve been focusing too much on people. Wanting to be around them for no reason in particular, not because I’m lonely, but because I don’t want to get lost—but in the long run, I’m pretty sure I’ve lost myself.

I come across things I once loved and blankly stare.

I suppose the main quote that is really haunting me.
“You are what you love, not what loves you.”

I guess that makes me a big giant nothing at the moment—and generally disgusted by anything that shows me attention.

Bah. So cynical.
Forgive me. The weather does this to me.

I’m just waiting for somebody to say something like this to me:

“You say you love me a little, you say you want to stay friends, you say you don’t want no strings attached; no one to depend on you. You see love as a prison; I see love as a key. You think a little is more than enough, but it’s not that way for me.”

And I’ll just shake my head and apologize.
Because that’ll be all I can think to say.
Why is everyone else so much more capable of love?

Too much sun will burn you.
Too much rain you’ll drown.
Too much cold will freeze you.
Too much wind will blow you down.
So what’s the consequence of too much love?

And the more I think, the more I lean towards the idea that there is no specific person I’m meant for. Every time I exit a relationship where I’ve felt strongly of someone, I almost feel embarrassed that I had convinced myself that; one, it wouldn’t end and two, I couldn’t live without them, etc.

As of lately its left me sort of jaded.
The embarrassment, that is.

The idea that one person somehow has the ability to even mate with a single person for the rest of their days seems so outdated to me—like caveman outdated. The living population of humans has exceeded that of those who have ever lived before, more above the ground than below. So I find it hard to understand why we would continue this nomadic mating ritual called monogamy.

I believe love is the eventual build up of ones tolerance of another individual through ones senses. Many adopted children will say they love their parents, and that as far as they can tell it’s no different than if they were their blood, and vice versa. One gets used to situations and the brain justifies it. The longer a relationship lasts, the stronger it seems simply because anything else would be inconceivable.

But human beings are irrational, not the least of which would be yours truly. We’re one of the few creatures who possess the highly unnatural gift of consciousness and awareness of our surroundings and then we were told we’re going to die eventually; no matter how much free will we exhibit.

Sometimes things don’t make sense. I believe that a lot of people delude themselves and it can very well fall under the categories above—and of course more. But there are sometimes where the relationship doesn’t make sense, you might even hate each other, get in fights all the time, break up constantly. Despite the logic, despite the suggestion of other loved ones, despite perhaps even your own free will – there are those few people that you just keep ending up with.

In those situations the only thing you’ll need is creativity.
And, well, perhaps patience.

I’m sure everyone has seen it and come to their own conclusions, but in “Eternal Sunshine” the best part of that movie is that they didn’t work, they would always eventually leave one another. If this procedure didn’t exist they would perhaps never be with each other again, but with it they could spend the rest of their lives together—if only for a year at a time.

The human condition is the fact that no matter what act we decide to participate in; there will always be an ironic side effect.

An inverse side effect.

Not to say that the world makes sense in any way; that there is some sort of equilibrium keeping good and evil at their perspective bays.

More along the lines that anything you love, will be used up.
Anything you hate, won’t seem that bad after a while.

It’s not the most earth shattering theory, I understand, but it seems to fit everything I’ve felt passionately about, be it positive or negative.

It may be the curse of the passionate person, which also falls into the theory. Those who have lust and drive will always become bored with their interests. While those who have no interests may be “content with nothing”.

Does anything last? When you take a pill to enable more lovemaking, isn’t the side effect always lack of sexual drive? When you take a pill to be happy, isn’t the side effect always apathy?

Not just pills, of course, apply this to anything.

What am I even talking about?
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am I hiding behind my doubts, or are they hiding behind me? [22 Jan 2007|01:49pm]


“Don’t you have school today?”
“Don’t you have work today?”
err… yeah. *rolls over*
“Shouldn’t you take a shower then?”
probably… *buries self in pillows*
“Get up.”
neerrrmm… *falls out of bed and drags self upstairs*

And so on and so forth… I haven’t been able to concentrate this entire day. I’m going nuts. My mind is racing about a million miles a second and I’ve been feeling as if I’ll fall over if somebody so much as taps me on the shoulder. My shoulders are as tense as could be. It’s like there’s webbed string that’s strung too tight between my bones. I’m tired and strained and achy and overly observant.

Once upon a time there lived a girl. She slept in a lovely little cottage made of gingerbread and candy.
She was always asleep. One morning she woke up and the candy had mold on it. Her father blew her a kiss and the house fell down. She realized she was lost. She found herself walking down a crowded street, but the people were made of paper, like paper dolls. She blew everyone a kiss goodbye and watched as they blew away.

Still can’t concentrate.

What’s keeping you?
You’re silly insecurities?

I want to be an angel.

And why’s that?
You’re such a rational girl.
Why toss the thrifty sensible nature?

I want to be lovely and brilliant,
with wings of adore and a heart of loyalty.
The last thing I want is for angels to become a failing passion.
And after seeing the decline of charity and smiles
I will stand no more of collective rejections and do my part.

Wanting wont make you into something fictional.

So I’m ignoring practicality—
so what if I want to be something beautiful?

You’ve forgotten the weekend so soon.

What about the weekend?
What does that have to do with me wanting
to be absolutely consumed in loveliness and fervor
--in yellows, greens, blues and rich reds?

You’re so shallow.
Why can’t you see?
You don’t need to be beautiful.
You don’t need to be a manifestation of splendor
to be adored and treasured as an “angel”

You don’t get it do you?

I don’t?

I need you to consider this.
To feel how lowly the world is;
how it appears in one dark gray cloud,
waiting for someone—or something
to bring a confidence of honest zeal back to it

You’re not making any sense.
Becoming an angel,
one solitary,
is not going to make the world
an entirely different
better place.

You could never just stop and listen to me,
could you?
I have reached the point of sighing and giving up.
You win.

Don’t I always?
You should know by now that there
will never be anything more than this.

Motivation is something that is becoming harder and harder to come by. I find myself dreaming more often than rediscovering the energy to change and do something about the things I don’t like. Dreaming gets you no where, really. I’ve been falling into mindless-daydream-fits, though, where I’m not completely sure what I’m thinking about [ if anything ]—I’m just dazing. It’s in those mind-sets, I think, that my false memories and imagination takes over. I tend to “remember” things that never happened, although those “memories” could be dreams as well. I’ve found myself asleep during work or random social gatherings, and it would appear that I was operating normally. There might be a broken shoelace or a spilled drink from time to time, but for the most part I function pretty damn well as a walking-zombie. I think it’s my Piscean nature to be dreamy and all that, and strangely enough I love it. I really do. I find beauty and inspiration and art in so many random things. I could stare at a horizon of city lights for hours. I love the distant, sporadic glow of the city. It’s like back-lit children’s glitter art.

Speaking of memories, I think back and remember something somebody told me once; “The most important person in your life is YOU. The quickest way to failure is to attempt to please everyone.” And I can’t help but think sometimes they’re right.

It’s just that it’s so hard, you know? I don’t know that I’ll ever be comfortable enough to stop trying to please everyone. I mean, sure, people generally suck. The majority of them will take advantage of you every chance they get—not to mention blow you off, lie to you, treat you poorly, forget about you, use you, etc. But that doesn’t mean everyone’s bad, right? I believe—truly – that there is something good about everyone, regardless of their faults and fuck-ups.

I also don’t like giving up.

Especially today. Today. Today I’m going to spend my time in this damn office writing down every single thing that comes to mind.

It’s strange how I can have such strong feelings against religion etc, and yet have such strong beliefs for aliens and ghosts and true love and other silly, illogical things.

I believe that there are some things I should never talk about until I’ve gotten them completely straightened out—some people I shouldn’t even think about talking to while befuddled, because all they tend to do is confuse and upset me more. I believe that there are times when I really do need to be alone or I’d probably never get anything completely understood. I believe that people change. That you don’t have to change your friends if you can understand that your friends change. I believe in second chances and forgiveness as well. People make mistakes, and people are busy and things come up. And sometimes somebody just doesn’t have time for everyone in his or her life. And that, that’s okay—because they still love them. But there comes a point when the lack of time and apparent lack of caring hits the fan, and a big brick wall is quietly built up around everyone that person considered close. When you’re busy, by yourself, and absent minded, you’re bound to loose a few good people… it takes dependability and courage to love somebody. It takes commitment and passion, no matter what kind of love we look at. It takes hugs and kisses and ice cream at midnight and tears and listening and sad movies and bad music and tickling and playing and lighthearted secrets and licorice and car rides and stars and acting silly and jokes and laughing so hard your sides want to split…
Most of all love takes time.

I love you all.
Every single one of you.
Some of you more intricately than others.
But never more.
Does that make sense?
It should. You’re incredible. Wonderful. Perfect.
I couldn’t ask for better friends.

 I’ve had this nagging urge to write a letter to the important people in my life. To explain the impact they’ve had on me throughout the years. I feel I need to explain why I act the way I do towards certain folk, and perhaps question the way they act towards me. But I can’t think of the right words. Everyone I surround myself with has impacted my life so greately, I can think of at least half a dozen things every single one of you have done fore me that just made my memories a little bit more enjoyable. I want to say something profound, but the only things that are coming out are simple “Thank yous” and “I’m sorrys”. I just… I can’t seem to shake the feeling like I’ve taken you all for granted. Like I don’t give back to you what you do for me—like I treat you poorly for how wonderful you treat me.

If you don’t want to talk to me again, I’ll understand.
Just tell me what I did to upset you so much.






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If love were lovesick over me, that'd be alright. [19 Jan 2007|12:25pm]

I ordered Chinese food yesterday for lunch.
Fortune cookies are rather tasty, and always full of a little piece of intuitive guidance.

Fortune: You will see how it all completes itself.
Reverse: It will rip as you attempt to unfold it.

Work has been…. Well, as work-worthy as it can be. And I’ve been hard(ly) at work.
I have decided that at some point I was split in two and now we’re both running around the same time of day. This explains such odd incidents such as when I find two cups of water on my desk, both only half drunk. This also explains the previously unexplainable bruises when I wake up.
And this other me, she also steals my chap stick and my quarters.

… although that could be my co-workers being thieves, as well…

Speaking of which—they sent me to the grocery store today for Kleenex and other office-stuffs that we can’t order offline. In my travels, however, I managed to witness one of the finest sights this modern society has to offer—a lady got trapped between automatic sliding doors. She was wearing a red sweater with white silhouetted reindeer prancing and snowmen holding mittened hands and the doors pinned her torso as she tried to sneak through sideways, an Indiana-Jones-style move. The doors squeezed her momentarily before conforming to their programming and letting go.
I was the only person who had seen. It was a January present to me from the powers-that-be. A little thanks-for-hanging-in-there from fate.

The lady stumbled out onto the sidewalk, and glanced around embarrassedly.

 “hah hah, I must be invisible today.”

 Isn’t it strange how the word ‘smile’ is so ugly and resentful? Is it the same as the color yellow?

Looking back through the more recent pages of my journal and all I see and read is ramblings. I should have never taken my mind back after it’s eviction. Oh well. At least it’s some-what interesting to read, right?

 *waves hands*

 Bodies are silly things. Not something to disrespect, of course, just a silly inconvenience—a fallacy, of sorts—in the way people view themselves. For the past few days I feel as if my body has grown too big for my conscious self, and I’ve been trying hard to make everything fit before I can’t see anymore because my eyes are “way up there!”

 “Do you listen to yourself when you talk?”
”I drift in and out.”

 Do you think I’m going to wait for a revolution in order to live my life?
Something has to be done!
If I can’t solve it any other way I’ll become a whore – an intelligent one, of course.

 I remember a little over a year ago Ali and I had come to the conclusion that the best diet of sorts would consist of lots of punk concerts and even more sex. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to say that this diet is for everyone, but I think perhaps it’s worth a second thought. Both are good exercise, both are fun, exciting, experimental, and all you want to do afterwards is sleep—which ultimately leads to less over-eating. See? I think perhaps, though, in light of recent events, I’d like to add “snowboarding” to this list. It seems to fit the requirements, and it wears you the fuck out—just like the first two. =)

 Ali, you’re a genius! Come home. I miss you.
I’m not nearly the side-kick I used to be =(

 “Well, what did you really expect? There’s never been any more than this and there never will be any more than this. Nobody’s out to save the world because nobody gives a damn about the world that was just a bunch of kids talking. Get a job, make some money, work till you’re sixty, then move to Florida and die.” –Daniel Quinn, Ishmael

 You never really notice how much time you waste until it shows in something tangible, like a post-it saying you fucked up… or a smack in the face.
I think sometimes I have difficulties making progress and once I think I’m doing “good enough” I just sort of become unwilling to put forth any further effort. It’s frusterating.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately, and I think I’ve become very anxiety-driven.
I’m restless with myself and everything around me right now.

I’ve given up on a lot of things.

Oh no.
Do you think there’s some way to just feel better about today?

While on one hand, I’d like to free myself of this attachment to nostalgia all together, on the other hand, I don’t want to loose anything nor risk uncertainty and the possibility of further disappointment. Bah. I contradict myself so much. Sometimes I think my entire goal with people is to make a favorable impression and be rewarded as a “special personality”.  I mean, I’m constantly on the watch to see whether I am succeeding in this and how others are reacting to me. False control reassurance.

I must admit I am a sucker for the esthetic or original.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not depressed or anything. Just… thinking a lot lately.

 “Cheer up friends. Do not be appalled if life seems to have no purpose. If there is no apparent purpose in evolution or in the scheme of things and you are despondent about it you can do something about that too. You can put a purpose into your life. You can go about doing good. Do something that needs to be done. Without a god there is plenty to do. The world needs you. Have a goal. Have a philosophy. No religion or church has a monopoly on morals or ethics despite what the clergy say.” - G. Vincent Runyon


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I'll sleep when I'm dead! [15 Jan 2007|01:13am]
[ mood | blah ]

Me: I don't even know. I have a lot to talk about, though, I think.

Me: Tonight would be a perfect walk-night, 'cause I know I'd do all the talking this time, but it's just too fucking cold.

Tom: i could always come over

Me: I don't know. This will do for tonight. I need to sleep, or at least humor myself with the idea that I'm going to do so sometime tonight.

Tom: ah

Me: But thank you for the offer, I'll call you on it sometime soon.

Tom: your awfully hard to read lately

Me: I know. I'm sorry.

Me: It's because, well... I don't know. I'm finally starting to feel more like me lately.

Me: But it's been a hard transition.

Me: It's like I didn't want to let go of my morose, angsty ways.

Tom: yea i think i kinda know what you mean

Tom: i cancelled my WoW account today

Me: Did you?

Me: Why?

Tom: i don't know, i tell myself its for schools sake, but even i know thats a load

Tom: i guess

Tom: i am finally getting tired of running

Me: Running from what?

Tom: life i guess, and having to live it

Tom: don't side track me though, what’s got you so distracted lately?

Me: I'm not sure. It's like every morning I've vanished at least a dozen times into something better, and I'm just left with this little shell.

Me: I've got this strange urge to move out.

Me: And to write a letter to a handful of friends.

Me: Apologizing for everything I've ever done, or worse-- NOT done... and letting them know what sort of an impact they've had on me.

Me: But I'm afraid they wouldn't take me seriously.

Me: Or they wouldn't find it as important as I do.

Tom: hmm

Me: I'm overwhelmed.

Me: For the first time ever I'm telling myself I don't deserve the good things that are going on in my life. I feel like I’m just going to end up hurting everyone and I shouldn’t even bother trying this time.

Me: I'm afraid I'm going to loose my friends.

Me: My job is going really well and it's scaring me.

Me: Everyone likes me there.

Me: I've got this problem with not being able to leave well-enough alone.

Me: I can't turn my brain off. It's screaming at me to listen, and when I stop, it just repeats everything it's already said.

Me: I feel so snowed under, and yet in retrospect I don't see anything to stress about.

Me: I just feel like I wake up every morning and tumbled several flights of stairs to my bedroom floor, feet away.

Tom: dreaming?

Me: Awake.

Tom: I’m finding that the difference between the two is starting to matter less and less, its always the same thing, just when i'm sleeping i can see it, and when i'm awake i can feel it.

Tom: or maybe i just care less about it

Tom: my dreaming is getting more and more frequent, its always something different, but with the same feeling, or rather, the same thing expressed a different way.

Tom: i can't even describe it, like a promise that feels like a threat. like if you've ever really been in the mood for juice and you only have water and milk

Tom: i'm happy things are going so well for you, you just need to let things progress and not over analyze it so much, just enjoy the things around you

Tom: you never let good thing happen to you, you either chase them away or run from them. thats something we've always had in common

Tom: your just a worrier is all

Tom: your a good person, you've always been a good person, sure you've made some mistakes, but everyone does, and unlike everyone you actually try your best to fix things, even when your not responsible for them

Tom: you deserve a little happiness once in a while, just let yourself accept it

Tom: o.o

Me: I suppose.

Me: I don't know.

Me: I’m afraid my friends are going to get sick of me. I'm afraid of a relationship. I’m afraid this job is going to go well and I won’t be able to sneak out of it (not that I want to) like the other ones. I told myself I wouldn't date for a while. I told myself I wouldn’t give in to my self-destructive tendencies. That I’d practice what I preach. Be there for my friends more than I have been lately… I don’t know *>.<* I just don’t want everyone I love to fall out of my reach like they always seem to do…

Tom: idk

Tom: i've made a goal not to try to give advice on things i don't know anything about

Tom: love and relationships make the top of that list I’m afraid

Me: I don't know what to do.

Tom: well, i can tell you what i think

Tom: love is the most important thing in all the world, some people pretend they don't need it, some live their whole lives without it, but life without love is meaningless. a moment of love, even just a flash, even in its misperceived and not returned, and never seen again, can give value to a hundred lifetimes of suffering. you'll never be able to find it if you keep holding back half your heart in case it doesn't work out the way you planned. you always told me to go out and get hurt, and i think you are right, i was always too cowardly, chained alone in the dark with my self-loathing and ignorance, but believe me, if there is even a small glimmer of a chance that you can find love, take it, throw everything you have at it and chase until you can't anymore. because if you don't your heart will never forgive you. and the greatest pain the world has to offer is buried beneath loves shadow.

Tom: thats why love  is such a cruel thing, to be apart from it is the same thing as being dead

Me: I love you.

Tom: lol

Tom: sorry

Tom: i didn't mean to unload on you there

Me: That's alright.

Tom: are you still awake?

Me: Yes.

Me: I need to sleep...I think. But I can't.

Tom: i really don't want to sleep

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if you ever make me feel foolish for wanting this, I'll hate you forever. [08 Jan 2007|12:33pm]
[ mood | anxious ]

Dear Hawaii,
(Oahu in particular)

My unforgettable one-night-stand (of sorts) vacation.
I can't get you out of my mind.
I love you.

I have a feeling I'm going to spend my entire life trying to get back to you.
To stay.

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Holiday Manifesto =) [24 Dec 2006|12:40am]
[ mood | amused ]

Stay away from malls
Gather around a table
Re-discover family tradition
Re-live fond memories
Forget bad ones
Play with a toy
Play chess with a friend
Just play
Spike the Eggnog
Think of someone in need
Do something about it
Eat snow
Not the yellow kind
Wear silly hats
Get carried away
Order in
Watch a classic
Send your cards out late
Get up early
Sleep in
Take naps
Make a wish
Have hope
Start your blog
Read a book
Write yours
Talk to a stranger
Slow down
Don't make promises
Give something away
Receive with grace
Watch home movies
Make one
Share it
Take pictures
Share them too
Say goodbye to the past
Say hello to a new year
Smile if it feels right
Find a quiet place
Look out for mistletoe
Don't fake cheer
Be yourself

Merry Giftsmas. | Happy Holidays.
And a little Festivus for the rest of us!

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the red dreams they have spoken [18 Dec 2006|12:38am]
[ mood | drained ]

Curled between the pages of December, I grumble to myself the feeling that I'm becoming an old gray cat. Abrasive. Tired. Cranky… It happens in backseats during lunch breaks when going somewhere seems just as redundant as staying and occurs again with an aged old question from an aged old stranger. It speaks of companionship and relationships. Without the proper answer, beside the inevitable mundane "no" I search the skies for something poetic and expressive and am given only the words "fanatical, lonely".

An ode to an old gray cat.

My writing has been stifled lately with even e-mails being delayed due to my lack of words. They're in my mouth but hands are cramped instead with patent work. This post itself seems ridiculously out of place and confused. Lost in an airport of keyboards, holding up in left hand a sign that says "mediocre" and in the right, one that's scrawled "scattered"

Scratch that.
This post is just like any other.

Only once in a while will intellect and wit find their way to me
bowing as an exit, I recite into the night
and once they are gone, it all escapes my lips
and I spend the rest of my hours fumbling

watch me catch my head in my hands
reading page twenty as I glance at twohundered.
watch me sing to county music
crying over one hundredth love song
watch me crawl back downstairs
watch me fumble forwards

"and as I wake… wait… and as I wake…"

Perhaps tomorrow will be better.
Hours of papers and tap-tap-taping
I hope tonight I won't have to watch the moon
disappear and turn red and orange
…a ball to run to
...a ball to escape to.


Do you think
it's possible that I can stop hurting everyone that's important to me?

she was retarded INSANE
Oh yes
She was

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Look at it out here, it’s all falling apart. I’m erasing you and I’m happy! [14 Dec 2006|12:52pm]
[ mood | aggravated ]

First and foremost I would like to know who is responsible for stealing my 11:00 o’clock.
Both of them.
They have recently gone missing and I miss them dearly.
Please return them.

What she crosses her fingers for is that if shaken, if properly stirred, her thousands of minuscule actions will dissolve and reform as a resolution of change contrary a disguise.


I woke up in a funk today.
Er… let me rephrase:
I’ve been in a funk all week, but ESPECIALLY today.
Well… I don’t know if I should be so dramatic as to say that I’m in a funk, but frankly what else can I call it? Funk, rut, dullsville, malaise—call it what you will, it’s here and I’m not the only one with it. My co-worker’s got it pretty bad, but she’s honoring the funk which sounds like a pretty good idea if you ask me. Celebrate the funk. Acknowledge its presence. Give in to the wants of the funk. Maybe if you stuff it full of reading fun fiction, yoga, eating comfort foods and shopping for little do-dads you don’t need but what are fun to have it’ll move along.

*grumbles* stupid funk…

You know what I hate the most about the funk? I become weepy. Very, very weepy… it’s a pathetic fallacy of mine that I’m going to (this time) contribute to the annoying and self-hating thoughts running amok in my head.

Of course it’s obvious that that’s never a good thing. It creates worry in my head. And I don’t need any additional worry—all the questions I have (life, job, what book I’m going to read next etc.) are PUH-LENTY for me to think about as it is. Unfortunately, I think I let it get the best of me the other day—just for a few hours, but still… I wasn’t at my best. And I like to be at my best. Or I like to try to be, at least.

On a different, but still probably funk related note; “lonely” seems to be a reoccurring theme at work, and it’s driving me a bit mad. Things wouldn’t be so bad if it was a public office and I got to talk with strangers all day, but instead I’m at this big fancy front desk all by my lonesome. I’ve gone so far as to download AIM at my place of work, and shuffling up down-up down my shortened buddy list is a horrible addiction… much like waiting for the evenings and having to procrastinate. I need to get on the patch… I need a “procrastination” patch so I might someday be able to allow the observable everyday organization to kick in.

I really should have worn that sweater instead of this damnable button-down shirt. If I didn’t know any better I’d swear I worked for penguins and not attorneys. *>.<*

So I have this awful tendency to talk to myself at work. Sometimes it’s work related, but a good majority of the time it’s just nonsensical inner monologues that find their way to my tongue. How is this related, you ask? Well, this morning I was in the file room wandering around looking for a patent that was apparently misfiled, and I asked myself, I asked:

Oh stability? Where have you gone?
And though I know she wasn’t talking to me, but to somebody in the hallway, a co-worker responded: “Perhaps it was lost in between these heavy pages?”
… perhaps it was.

Crazy? Yes I am.
But it’s translated most of the time and remains nothing but words, leaving me free to live my day-to-day delusions in a little saner state of mind.
Let’s see, what else have I been lately?
Overly dramatic?
No, definitely.
Here I am sitting here bitching about how cold the office is and blahblahblah when some people don’t have the luxury of gainful employment, some people wake up unsure if they will be breathing at the end of the day and some people don’t wake up at all.

How… grim.
I need my stability back.
I miss him.
I think perhaps I ought to stop rambling…besides, I am, indeed, at work.
And should, you know, be working.
Not to mention its lunch time
Funk is rearing its head.
It wants a raspberry and walnut wheat bagel and grape soda.

I am obeying the funk.
Comment 4 Comments Add To Memories Edit

I hate highheels. [12 Dec 2006|07:32am]
[ mood | annoyed ]

There's a little drunken housewife in me just waiting to set a fire.

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and this other me; she steals my quarters and my chapstick. [04 Dec 2006|06:28am]
[ mood | cold ]

You're solar, bipolar
Panic disorder
Seems harder and harder and harder
Still you try to control it

I am pretty damn sure there are two of me

Your brain is faulty wiring
the reason for tiring
Keep treating the curse,
Imagine the worst
Systematic, sympathetic
Quite pathetic, apologetic, paramedic
Your heart is prosthetic
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people are fragile things, be careful what you put them through. [22 Nov 2006|08:19am]
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did you get a chance to count the stairs outside? [20 Nov 2006|07:54am]
i can measure the hours in condensation
i can measure them on my hands

i’m off this morning.
this morning is off this morning

feeling a bit manic, the world's been angled slightly, tipped a bit
i’m not quite sure but for moment every street light had turned blue
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"decide what you want and go for it" [17 Nov 2006|09:02am]

Hello, new life.

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What'chu hugging me for? [13 Nov 2006|09:30pm]
Today was… well.
It was new, that’s for sure.

It occurred to me today that this is it.
Whether I was aware of it or not, I have changed remarkably in the past few months. It’s funny how you never notice it while it’s happening but holy crap, you wake up one day and you’re not the person you thought you were. For better or worse I woke up this morning, suddenly very aware of myself.

And for lack of better phrasing, I’m stealing what you [ you know who you are ] said last night, because I’ve never related to something so much in my life.

Needless to say, I’ve had a weird feeling lately; distant, but nagging, and it keeps bringing my train of thought to weird places.

Ever feel like you’re not the same as you were?
I mean, not just grown, but different than you should have been?
Like you missed some crucial plot twist or made a wrong decision somewhere and ended up in the wrong place?

I’ve been thinking constantly recently and it’s making me really moody. I’ve had to avoid beautiful/depressing things because they make me feel like I’m missing out on something. Like something’s been taken away, or I’ve lost it, and I want to chase after it but I don’t know what it is or where to look.

Weird feelings.

Like remembering some kind of feeling I know I’ve never felt.
I think the best way to describe it is if you have a dream where you fall in love with somebody, and while it’s just a few flashing moments, it seems like months—years passing, and then you wake up and there’s no one beside you and you know they never were… but the feeling of loss is still there.

I keep making excuses.
Are you?
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My Head Hurts, My Feet Stink, and I Don't Love Jesus [02 Nov 2006|04:57pm]
[ mood | predatory ]

I'm sorry, folks, for the foul mood I've been in lately.

I've just been feeling so itchy, like there might be something underneath my skin and it's scratching from behind my jaw to get out.

I've been crying recently.
A lot.
And yelling.
Inside my mouth, on my tongue; yelling. And it's simple words I've strained my throat with. It's four and it goes along the lines of how it feels, but it's wrapped itself tightly around many more questions, many moure shouts and it's asking why I can think of no other reasons why and how it seems to me that everyone walks in sneakers to someone.

And is it?
Is it really?
I ask.
And is it?
Why do they have it and why don't I?

What happeneded to the times when we welcomed ourselves to our regular life and light; over three-dollar french fries and refilled repeatedlyl clinking glasses? What happened to discussing ourselves and our friendships and philosophies and we got this far? What happened to sharing of insecurities and imperfections, and the welcoming back ourselves to the state of reality?... and in thinking, I'm reminded suddenly of what I'm missing.

I can feel it.
I can feel the slothishly slow sensation of infinity. Tomorrow will be the last new day. It's just going to repeat, and we'll then suck it up and gulp down laws and letters and quotes. Over and over. And tabs and sketches and times. Again and again. And we'll blahblahblah complain and openly hate every minute of the same day of it.

But there’s always now.

... I need to get of here.
Everything's falling apart.

The buttons fell off my favorite coat again. The simple loss makes me sick. What's falling apart here? Is it seams or skin?

Are we, perhaps, all in the process of decomposing? Are all our bodies in silent, stubborn revolt against solidity? Do our appendages secretly yearn for seperation, for the same pleasure that comes from making two worms from one?

why are you wincing at your own will, haley?
why are you wincing at your own will?

Most imporantly, how can I find a content self without creating a fuss? I've eliminated all [most] of the things that don't make me happy in life. And thank science for that, right? But even with all those changes, I, ironically, am finding it harder and harder to smile.


Time always stops and it's always 2:37.
Who needs sleep? Well you're never gonna get it. Who needs sleep? Tell me what's that for?

I need to stop talking to myself in song lyrics.

My senses are growing wet and every time I blink I feel the need to grab at my eyes with the inside of my palms, and my worry is that I'll never escape this place. Rationally, I know I will, but the TV keeps quite seriously on and the considered "co-workers" are finding themselves more and more familiar with anger and misunderstanding.

One lady was such a witch I drew horns and blacked out her tooth with a marker. So much for having her ID on file...

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"you're a perfectionist... don't ruin it!" [31 Oct 2006|07:42pm]
[ mood | curious ]

i. to raise you elbows sideways, hands upward

I lay under thick flanel sheets last night, staring at my christmas lights blurred in the reflection of the television. I wondered of this duality I no doubt nod towards when understanding "mind & body". However, to give one precedence over the other, well that seems to take it a bit far. "Mind & body", both of mine carved on by a society that scares me, both tattooed by nurture & nature. And both, mind & body, I unceasingly wish to strengthen.
I tie imaginary strings on each finger & toe: Stop wincing at your own will, Haley. Stop wincing at your own will.

ii. the motion of air building between

It's itchy and uncomfortable.
Too tight.
Too big.
I shift around but it just won't work.
I grab my toes and try to imagine being able to take off this body and try on a new one.

iii. the union of palms, the burst of noise

If, for some unknown reason, you feel like something is missing

keys? wallet? valid definition of self? friends? shoes? philosophy on life?

It's none of those.

It's the fact that you're missing a Tigger.
And you should find one.
They make great spooning buddies.

iv. a clap, an applause, a slight smile

A friend asked me about Haley world last evening.
How was it?
On the break of crumbling?

Well, I thought it,I could tell them how uncertain I am to this stability I grasp on to; about how uncertain I am to this on coming year; how uncertain I am of my current situations and (for lack of a better word) relationships... but I guess, over all, Haley world is [today, at least] simply wallpapered in paisley and snickering to itself and doing fine because it smells like fall today

v. teetering chaos, the fading of fingers


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BoOOOooOoOoOOoo!! [31 Oct 2006|01:05pm]

Happy Halloween!
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urgent, quick and brutal [30 Oct 2006|09:46pm]
[ mood | devious ]

I swear, I’ll stop ranting about work soon. It’s almost over…
[thank god!]
It’s… just… grr..


For as much as I dislike Republicans, this one goes out to the conspiracy-mongering asshole Democrats: Yes, you. Stop fucking obsessing about how “electronic voting is evil” and “blahblahblah I could hack blahblah one simple line of code blah!” bullshit. And you know, yes, I am aware that the iVotronic devices were made in China, but that doesn’t mean that the “fucking commies” are going to hack them and implant them with election-rigging viruses that they’re able to activate via satellite late November 7th. What the fuck good would it do them to rig JEFFERSON COUNTY’S election? I mean, sure, if the ENTIRE country used the SAME equipment, and China hated us THAT much, and perhaps if they had some Republican FEMALE robot (because wouldn’t that be the worst?!) created that was running for president, then… AND ONLY THEN… could I see this fucking RETARDED mentally challenged theory working. You might as well suggest that aliens put the entire world on pause and implanted chips in the back of our necks that self-activate on election day, forcing us ALL to think conservatively and vote (dare I say?!) REPUBLICAN!
*scary music*
Why control the voting machines when you can control the people?!
Stop your fucking bitching. The machines are drastically less corrupt than you are, you pretentious fuck.

Give me a fucking break.
No. We’re not rigging the elections.
We don’t care that much.
Hand counting the ballots will have MORE errors than the electronic voting machines ever will. BUT! If you don’t like the equipment, then please, by all means, come hand-count the ballots yourself.

Face it you radical assholes, your politics are boring as fuck.
You know it’s true.
Otherwise, why does everyone cringe when you start on your nonsensical rants? Why has attendance at your lord-loving-“truth”-prayer groups or anarcho-liberal-trustfund-hippy theory discussion groups fallen to an all-time low?
Why has the oppressed proletariat not come to its senses and joined you in your fight for world liberation?

One more thing.


Hey bitchy election personnel I work with:
Just because I was downstairs all day [working my ass off] doesn’t mean you get to give me dirty looks and treat me like shit when I come back upstairs just because you’ve been busy. It’s not like I was fucking around all day, I was just as busy as you were. Okay? So no more treating me like I’m a piece of shit.


I suppose I ought to end this here before I get any more aggravated.
BUT! As angry as this post sounded, I’ve really been in a spectacular mood all day. Might possibly have something to do with spending the weekend with a few of my favorite people.
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I just called to tell you that I get my ends and my beginings mixed up too. [24 Oct 2006|03:46pm]
[ mood | listless ]

Fortune cookie!
[Fortune:] Drastic means are not as necessary as you think.
[Reverse:] Not to say that drastic necessaries aren't mean.

So since I couldn't sleep to save my life, I went out to watch for highway dragons.

And I thought.
What makes a span of time "bad"?
What qualifies a day-- a year-- a lifetime-- as the "worst time of your life"?
Is it an illness?
A death?
Love? [ Or lack there of... ]
Perhaps it's the temporary inability to see the good things, though. Perhaps its a simple lapse in optimism.

Perhaps I just think too much.

With my back against the chain link fence I followed the skyline to fading signs of morning. The grass nodded, and I followed its gaze to watch a winged ant descend the fading shads of bruised sky, watched it follow an invisible curvature, and then stop, abruptly, internally oppose his own plan, and change direction, teeter slowly back towards the top of the sky, where it fades, infinitely, over the edge and around the back of this globe.

And I told myself I'll tell others about the moment I saw an ant find the top of the sky.

And maybe that's what I need to do.
Maybe I need stop everything and impose my own plan.
And maybe I need to change directions.
Or maybe I don't need a plan at all.
Is it so selfish of me to want to find everything wonderful in this world?
To desire the contentment and enlightenment tucked between the ears of illusion and the grin of reality?

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