Twelve eighteen twenty six, no socks long hair and I remember your shirt was covered in lint. I tried to write everything down in the car, but my head was hurting from an astigmatism in my left eye that has long since corrected itself. I tried to take a nap but I couldn't stop thinking about french fries and cherry coke, all the friends who wore sneakers and the ugly brown drapes at the diner. Vinyl seats until our asses started to hurt and remember that time you played footsie with me? Yeah I remember. You dropped your skateboard and we drove around listening to some ironic 90s hip hop where we both sang along effortlessly. I always liked that about you, you always got all the lyrics right.
I thought I'd hidden everything that reminded me of you inside a shoe box under my fucking bed! I had to hide things from myself like a little kid. I kept $20's and $50's in the secret compartment in my wallet because I knew myself, if I saw something I wanted on impulse I would just pull out a $20. I knew my impulsive side, if I saw something that reminded me of you I'd pick up my blackberry to shoot the shit and it'd be curtains.
But then today I found you, two-thousand and seven, smiling in a stack of expired film near my record player. It was us laying side by side with the lyrics "I want you to know" next polaroid (kissing your cheek) "I'll always love you" next polaroid (you smiling) "And always be your friend" Funny that I'd quote the Appleseed Cast when you always hated that band.
I'd like to be someone you could finally learn to love again .
"Holy Dances" on repeat. Late pass, fuck yourself.
Pushing my grocery cart full of canned tuna wheat pasta and protein bars I was tapped on the shoulder and told "I see you everywhere, you're beautiful." I abruptly pulled my ear-buds off my face (because common peasant things, such as grocery shopping are too hard to endure without music,) and I shouted out "Wait, did you say something?" I'd semi-heard him the first time but I was afraid I was imagining things. Not skipping a beat he repeated himself putting much emphasis on the word beautiful, he spoke like all 8 letters were wrapped inside a present and he was waiting for my reaction. My brown eyes of course registered blank, I'd never had this happen before. He kept looking at me, waiting and awkwardly continued with "I've seen you at the other grocery store too the one on Main St. you always have your headphones on and you don't look at people. But I think you're beautiful, I wanted to tell you that." With no makeup bangs that are too short and jeans dirty from work, I smiled. He started to walk away and as the compliment finally sunk in, I manged to shout a clumsy "Hey, thanks!" and before he could turn down the canned goods aisle, he smiled at me.
and usually a grudge but i loved so much the way we touched and psuedo-kissed oh i already miss you singing like this over the phone every now and every then i tend to pretend i'm not alone
Everyday I mark a huge X on the calendar and it's starting to sink in, but unfortunately for both of us it isn't going to hit you until I call you up and say "Hi, my flight leaves in an hour, I guess this is goodbye?" I'll listen to Braid and for 13hours I'll try to read a stack of magazines, one novel and an old diary. Then the chapter will be closed and I'll start something new and maybe I'll write about it on plain white paper, and it'll look better in an envelope that I'll never mail.
1. I feel everyone pulling away from me, slowly but surely. I knew this was inevitable but it still makes me a little sad that people are afraid to get close to me before I leave. Oh well.
2. I've started biting my nails again. This was a habit I thought had turned to ashes along with the house on 588. I find myself with my fingers in my mouth gnawing away like the dweeb that I was in the 7th grade. Watching myself type I can't wait to bite up on my left thumb nail.
3. My mom started crying today at work, I fucking hate when she gets all emotional about me leaving. She went into this tangent about me possibly being sold into sex slavery, and how she's afraid if I leave I'll never come back. Now a few things.. A.) I don't think anybody would want a 21 year old smart mouthed sex slave.. B.)I hate when anybody gets emotional about me leaving. So far it's only been my mom and [blank] and both have made me feel both guilty and sad (at first)then guilty and sad progressed into "I want better things for you, so I get it." Both have reached a peace and understanding that goes hand in hand with them not really speaking to me. This sucks but like bulletin 1. I get it. I understand.
4. I know for a fact that you won't say shit to me before I leave. This stings but won't leave a mark. I guess 16 years of friendship isn't really that long when you take into consideration that we were just two sad girls with crazy families who became friends in the third grade. We just so happened to be stuck in the same small town spinning our wheels and doing the same small town shit, I'm surprised we stuck around as long as we did. Now you seem happier and you've moved onto bigger and better things, and soon I will too. I know you'll never read this but if you do please don't tell me that you did. Just know that this is how I truly feel.
5. I bought distressed boots (slight wedged heel) on south street for $20 last weekend. They keep my feet warm and I feel 7feet tall and completely slenderized. The heel gives me a slight advantage over street peasants as I clunkclunkclunk like an equestrian god with raven hair and coal black eyes. Maybe one day I'll be able to wear actual high-heels and feel beautiful instead of just awkward.
6. I bought a case of diet coke and instantly felt like a heifer.
I love having a job where I work with animals and make a ridiculous amount of money (where da cash at) and get paid every single week like clockwork. I love having a job where I never have to wear makeup and every morning I just throw on a band t-shirt and keds. I've grown so close to our clients that they know what my favorite drink is (diet coke with lime) and call ahead and offer to bring my mom and I lunch whenever their dogs have an appointment.
These are the same clients who's dogs run to me and greet me with kisses. The same clients who get teary eyed when I tell them I'll be leaving in a few months. I can't imagine having a job that doesn't involve listening to my favorite music all day and playing with dogs. Thinking too much about this is starting to bum me out, but I'm 21 and it's time to grow up and make a life for myself.
I'm not leaving anybody behind, you're all welcomed to come visit me in the Nippon. We can take the ferry to Korea and buy iphones for cheap. xx
It was the winter of space heaters and naval oranges. The furnace light was on but it wasn't blowing any hot air. "Oh well, it cost too much money anyway," so we all slept with space heaters in the corner of our rooms. I slept with 3 blankets and my pink bath robe just trying to keep warm. I layered up like a caveman with bearskins, I wouldn't stand defeated, I would sleep warm tonight.
Naval oranges were the only food my body would consume that year. There was a bad frost in Florida so all the oranges were doubled in size tough like leather and tart to the taste, impossible to peel by hand so you had to use a butcher knife. It was almost like eating a grapefruit but with no sugar on the top. I ate 3 cyclops oranges a day.
I spent my days working, slowly feeling more numb by the hour. Some days I had no recollection of even driving home, I'd be standing in the shower starring at my black hair dye clinging between my toes, unsure of how I even took off my clothes, let alone turned on the water and stepped inside.
Something was wrong with the tub that year so whenever you took a shower there was at most 3-5inches of water you were left standing in, like a bird bath full of soap and grit. This left a ring around the tub that was impossible to scrub clean but it didn't really bother me and we never had company.
I spent my nights wrapped up in blankets and books, reading anything I could get my hands on but retaining very little. I pulled out all of my old school books and began re-reading the "Theories on Human Ethics 101" "Psychology for Substance Abuse" remembering a time when I had the heart to want to help people. There were sentences underlined with a neon highlighter, little notes in the margins (remember this will be on the test! remember empathy for others is very important!) it had only been a few months ago that I was still in school, but it felt like years. The person writing those notes was a ghost to me now.
I became velcro to my cellular device, needy and optimistic I would check to see if you'd stopped in to say hello, you never did. Not once. I would listen to sad songs that reminded me of past boyfriends, boys I'd never even cared about, boys that meant very little in the grand scheme of things. Boys with bad breathe like coffee and pushy hands that I always turned down. I thought about these boys because I just got sick of always feeling everything for you. You were always very needy in that way, you wanted me to feel everything and when I started feeling nothing you got quiet and I was just always tired.
I was once called an ice queen to my face. "you have no idea how sad you really are inside" he snarked. I looked at my boots and didn't say anything and for once I didn't have a comeback. I was wearing red lipstick that day and I felt like a clown.
I went back to my ice box, the smell of cat piss and weeks worth of old beer cans lining the kitchen counter. The couch cushions were dirty and there was shit everywhere, literally nobody cared about the house at all, not even me that year. I crawled into my bed shivering and listened to the party in the basement my brother + his friends and some new soulja boy song, skunk weed lingering up the heater vents. I tried to listen to my headphones but every song had something sad to say. My stomach growled so I sat up and ate an orange, although it could have passed for a grapefruit. Nobody would have ever known the difference.
I've spent too many years just co-existing. I'm ready to feel something.
So here we are Again Back to the beginning So the salt will spill again Throw it over your shoulder
This is a video of Nancy Holloway footage mixed in with the Broadcast song "Before We Begin Again" and trust me, it's awesome. I could watch the opening scene where she's just shakin' it over and over again. If I were to ever seriously pursue my childhood dreams of becoming a singer in an indie band, I'd have to practice some Nancy Holloway/Emily Haines shakes, because they're both on point.
I've been on a serious update kick which is good because as soon as the urge to write fills my fingertips, it's just as quickly drained from my head and all I'll want to do is sleep and eat candy.
After subscribing to my girl Hannah's BLOG she kindly linked everyone to her Platform article where she wrote "Self Inflicted Injuries I Could Have Done Without." It got me thinking about one of my favorite things to make fun of myself for; my total lack of grace.
I've never been graceful, not ever, not for a split second. I attempted to do ballet when I was a kid but my mom quickly made me quit upon realization that it cost A.) too much money and B.) I was the biggest kid in the class, she didn't want to make me feel self-conscious (thanks mom!)
Throughout my 21 years of existing on this earth I have never been one of those prim and proper girls who could do things without looking like an asshole, I've always been awkward. I spill drinks and slaughter an entire forest because I require a million napkins whenever I'm eating. I also grew up with two brothers and was raised by my step dad, another bad component on the manners and "ladylike" spectrum. It also didn't help that during the hell that is known as "puberty" I suddenly woke up one morning and had sprouted to a staggering 5'8, with boats for feet that fit inside a size 9 shoe. Needless to say I was a ticking time bomb for clumsy mishaps and childhood embarrassment.
I'm not sure if other tall girls (or just people in general) can relate to this, but during puberty I found myself tripping an awful lot. Sometimes I'd just get up from a chair and my legs would give out. It was almost as if my brain and body were not yet synchronized. My brain was too busy trolling AOL chat rooms and reading TeenBOP magazines, listening to the TLC Crazy.SEXY.Cool album and wondering when I was going to grow boobs. My brain had no time to be all "Hey legs, whazzup? Oh you want to walk, well ok, give me a second - oh damn, shit, did you just fall? MY BAD!"
During 8th grade arithmetic I raised my hand and politely asked to use the restroom. Upon standing I somehow managed to step directly into my open book bag, take one step forward, tripp, scream "SHITTT" and fall right on my face in front of the entire class. All my mates started cracking up (I mean, I would have done the same thing.) Luckily by 8th grade I'd learned to laugh at myself so I didn't take it personally, with red cheeks I took a graceful bow and went to the bathroom (as planned) to piss and reflect in the ladies room stall. I starred at the countless "I LOVE JOEY" and "LISA IS A SLUTBAG" middle school graffiti scribbled on the walls with sharpies. I took a deep breath and decided "Ehh.. fuck it, it could always be worse."
Fast forward to 6th period English class where I overheard a girl I didn't like with crispy bangs and bad skin snarking "Did you hear that huge thud last period from Mrs. Ambrose's math room? Jesus Christ, it sounded like a goddamn elephant!" I tried to pretend like it wasn't me, you know, the elephant.
Then a few weeks later I was walking to my 5th period History class that was located in a trailer (kid you fucking not, I grew up in Delaware) in the courtyard of my Middle School. There was a concrete sidewalk that lead from the front door of the Middle school to the hopeless History class trailer. On a particularly freezing winter day I quickly tried to walk from point A to point B. One minute my legs were working just fine, hey we're really getting the hang of this whole walking thing, and the next minute I was sprawled out on the sidewalk, my books everywhere and my knee bleeding. I hit my chin on the sidewalk too and my palms were all scratched up.
The biggest dickhead in class was right behind me (of course) and was having a fucking field day. For the first time in my life I didn't feel clumsy, I felt embarrassed. I was a teenage girl after all, stuffed to the brim with ragging hormones. One minute I was happy and the next I was sad, one minute I was siked on shaving my armpit hair and the next I was knicking my legs and all pissed off at the world. I picked myself off the ground and screamed "Fuck you!" He looked at me, stunned, "Uhh.. are you ok.." I shot daggers at him and started gathering up my books "No I am not OK I just fell on my face for no fucking reason!"
[I remember at this point I was becoming kind of worried that I just kept falling all the time. I had a brief talk with my mom about my concerns "Maybe there's something wrong with me mom," but she literally laughed in my face and told me to drink more milk.]
With all the sass and salt in the world I picked up my books and walked into the trailer. I took my seat and busted out my gel pens, ready to write my best friend a note about what just happened.
I was mid scribble when I looked up to see the bully standing beside my desk. "Hey look, I'm sorry I laughed at you.. I hope you're alright" was all he said. We made strange eye contact and he never teased me about me falling again. After that I can't really remember having anymore clumsy falling-flat-on-my-face spells. I had an awkward fainting spell when I was a cashier at Walgreens, but that's an entirely different story.
Stay clumsy guys. And tell me your similar stories, you know, if you have any. And if you don't have any that makes you perfect, in which case GTFO.
Only thing I haven't got is more, stitches than you Fuckin punk, you ain't a +leader+ what? nobody followed you You was never shit, your mother shoulda swallowed you you on some tagalong flunkie yes man shit Do me a favor, please get off the next man dick
Big L always said it best.
The past few days have been a whirlwind. I'm in a rush to get all my passport things in order and I keep forgetting to eat, when I forget to eat my blood sugar starts to freak out and I get shaky/ start getting bad headaches. I think I'm going to go make some waffles or something when I'm finished writing this.
This weekend I received one of the best mix tapes (technically it's only the 2nd one I've ever been given,) and I'm content with the fact that it only took me 7years to meet this goal of mine. Well worth the wait. The other mix was from my friend Catherine circa 2006, it was awesome and she still holds the title for most creative tape-cover, I mean really? My name all bedazzled? How could anybody TOP THAT.
I really need this for my trip: It's only $100 + two packs of film, such a deal. I plan on taking tons of pictures while I'm gone and scanning them for my blog. So keep your eyes peeled for that. Ok, my entire body is about to shut down I'm off to make waffles and keep day dreaming about my new life - peace.
First week of March I'll be en-route to Yokosuka, Japan to meet up with my biological father and start a new life. I'm pretty freaked out but super excited. I'm thinking about having a going-away party but I feel like those are a bit narcissistic. I'll just keep playing everything by ear.
I had the funnest NYE of my life, without a doubt. I have bruises all over my feet from dancing so much and drunk girls in stilettos stepping on me. The highlight of the night was definitely seeing everyone dance to Mj's "Rock with you" and grabbing Katie D's hand and dancing to daft punk with a really uncomfortable guy, who eventually ditched us so we danced by ourselves anyway.
I got a total of maybe 4 hours of sleep the entire weekend and passed out on the bus ride back to Wilmington, and drooled on shoulder of the thugged out dude sitting next to me. Today I've spent my last day off sleeping and being a human droid. I'm still in my pajamas and yet to shower. My gray matte nail polish isn't shipped (surprisingly) and our washer and dryer are both broken so all my clothes are dirty and thrown in a pile in the corner of my room. It's been so cold lately and I really need to wrap my windows with plastic.
My New Years resolutions are the following : not to be such a whiny ass girl all the time write more (summit more of my writing.) sing in a band live on my own not drink soda let go of the past forgive and forget lower my sugar intake and last but no least, sleep more.
These are pretty epic, lets hope I can stick to at least one of these.
I said I wasn't going to write in this for awhile, but nobody reads this anyway so it barely makes a difference. Hello 2010!