God we think we are all so fucking mature at our age. But if you really think about it, if you REAAAALLY think about it, you’ll never be really mature until you’ve gone through a shit ton of crap. You know? Terrible things. Like things that really hurt.

So next time you have a tough life experience where you’re REALLY REALLY sad or something and you think “God, I’ve survived this. I can survive anything. I’m so mature.”

You wrong. That’s all.


January 25, 2009

There’s a big part of myself that is incredibly confused about what I want. There are a lot of things that I need but don’t necessarily want. There are things I want, and don’t necessarily need. (Anyone who reads my baby Crames sees how this is inspired.)

Lately, my life has been a test of will and a test of character. I’m having to point out to myself when I could possibly overreact, and slow myself down before I’m all tied up in chaos. I’ve repeating the mantra: “one thing at a time one thing at a time one thing at a time” but my mind has this big giant list of things I need to get done in a certain amount of time.

I’ve been setting myself deadlines lately that I’m being told are unnecessary. Some friends are telling me to take advantage of this time and just relax… enjoy having graduated and take a break. But I feel like I spent a lot of last month doing that. I would love to “never” work, but I just feel it’s impractical in the long run. Jesus, my mom brought up 401ks last time we talked about finances. I’m still working up the balls to have a completely independent credit card. I just feel like I was brought up sometimes with a completely ridiculous set of financial expectations… like going to the grocery store, we never had to worry about how much money was spent… we could buy and try whatever we wanted because there wasn’t an actual limitation. Now I’m looking for what’s cheapest… not even what is freshest or healthiest or most delicious, what is CHEAPEST so I can spend more money on material things and going out and splurging on things.

Ugh this post is so pointless. I am so pointless. GOD. One thing at a time…

I am currently watching an episode of Wife Swap.

Yes. That’s only the first bit. There’s more:

This Wife Swap episode features 2 interesting woman: one who lives by making spreadsheets and being organized and another one who is Rastafari and hates organization.

The Rastafari woman is the most amazing creature I’ve ever seen. If everyone believed in what she believes in, the world would be such a beautiful place. Except for the fact they home school them, which in the example they use, does not work Rastafari style. Her husband is a bit over the top thought… he’s like testy Rastafari “JAH WILL PROVIDE!” “Deal with the truth in reality. DEAL WITH THE TRUTH IN REALITY WOMAN. RASTAFARI!”

It was pretty spectacular. Just a thought.


January 11, 2009


yeah. that’s good for now.

January 10, 2009

My brain is completely disconnected from my heart, and I kind of like it. It’s like living in a lovely surreal dream world, where reality doesn’t really matter, and everything I love is within arm’s reach.

My very dear friend Josh once told me that he was capable of loving unconditionally. This blew my mind, because I was fairly certain that this certain aspect of love did not exist… every case of my life in which I love someone (besides family/blood relatives) I have found something that has broken the camel’s back or blew over the haystack or screwed the pooch… what have you. (I highly doubt that those were the proper uses of those idioms.) Nonetheless, I found conditions within the “love” relationships that I had that kept me from loving, and have, since that point, made a point to identify the flaw in all love. The messiness of it. The whole shebang.

The last 48 hours have been peculiar, to say the least. I would almost describe it as my favorite 48 hours of being in my hometown since I was a resident. I’ll spare you the details, but with an odd twist of fate (which I don’t actually believe in so I blame Blue Moon,) I was reunited with someone I used to love that I swore I’d never speak to again. I gave into impulse and instinct and let the nostalgia consume me… Every second felt as if I had somehow already lived it 4 years ago. A deja-vu of sorts. There is something about living in that moment that is unreal… the epic dream sequence… that is so reminiscent of real life that if some of the conditions were different, it would reach enlightenment.

And on my drive home, I realized that perhaps I had found a certain enlightenment in those hours. I have discovered little bits of me I thought were lost… scraps of a former self that I miss, that I love. It’s hard to remember a time where I actually loved who I was, but this version of me is dear, and treasured. And when it was gone, I had to bury it with silence.

I also realized that I too possessed the ability to unconditionally love. Regardless of the outcome of this situation, I am completely incapable of erasing the entire thing from my life, as hard as I try, as much as I want. Those years were some of the greatest highs and lows of my entire life, and I chemically long to be back in those moments. The past two nights have been two giant yoga breaths of what once was, and what could quite possibly never be again.

At this point, I am not counting on or expecting anything from the future. I feel as if I’ve recognized my mistakes, and made some sort of attempt at developing the future on my own terms. I thought that by reconnecting with this part of my life, I was somehow letting go of that “fresh start” I thought would result of my move and my opening of a “new chapter.” In reflection, it is really the opposite. I have taken a completely new, unjudgemental, unconditional, perspective on something. It has given it new light, when the original intention was finite closure.

I realize that a lot of these thoughts won’t make sense, and that the people that have some inkling of what I’m talking about in the slightest (thank God there are so few of you) can’t believe it. But the person who this actually understands every word of this, and I know there is only one of you (besides myself) is the one that I hope takes away the most away from this. I hope you have, in opening your new chapter, look at this situation unconditionally in the future, and I hope that you have come to some of these conclusions on your own. There are little holes in my sadistic little heart where some of the happiest moments of my life plug them up to keep me from internally bleeding to death; it’s unclear if tonight completely clotted it, or if it is only the beginning of new holes that I need to fill. I just hope that either way, that I won’t let this memory die, or let anyone taint it any more than they have.

This is the most I’ve written in a long time, and I would write more, but I feel as if there’s been enough self-disclosure for a biography or two, and quite frankly, my unmonitored and un-metaphored and muddled thoughts on this issue are private, and I intend to keep them that way for the time being.

I feel like this is growth, and as much as things are unchanged, I can still feel the potential. I will suppress it for the time being, because I know I need to save this happiness and simple joy for when it can happen again, when a 48-hour memory can reinstate my faith in others, my faith in love, and somehow, a bit of faith in myself.

God, this has been far too deep.

So let me fall
If I must fall
I won’t heed your warnings
I won’t hear them

Let me fall
If I fall
Though the phoenix may
Or may not rise

I will dance so freely
Holding on to no one
You can hold me only
If you too will fall
Away from all these
Useless fears and chains

Someone I am
Is waiting for my courage
The one I want
The one I will become
Will catch me

So let me fall
If I must fall
I won’t heed your warnings
I won’t hear

Let me fall
If I fall
There’s no reason
To miss this one chance
This perfect moment
Just let me fall