My fingers hurt from sewing so typing something out is a bit touchy. (LOLZ)

I don’t really have anything to say. At least not here. My mind is kind of full up with bullshit at the moment, so I’m trying to keep a level head.

Keep calm and carry on…

This May Bore You.

February 13, 2010

I had this really fantastic dream where I had to dash through a grocery store and grab whatever i wanted and then I was released out into this desert. It was being ruled by this overlord thing who kind of had ideas of his own and I had to find people to live with and ended up painting this giant mural. Oh, I also was in love on a space ship (twice), rode the real-life equivalent of Space Mountain (that’s what my high school ex-fling told me as we rode it – I screamed a lot) and finally settled in to an apartment with a few girls who really didn’t want me there. The mural was pretty badass though. There was a baby who kept trying to distract me and a government guard who told me it was great and I should keep up the good work. Apparently I was painting the mural to hide contraband. We also planned on escaping back to the real world. I’m not sure what was going on there.

The best employees are the ones that keep their mouths shut. The ones that are good that pretending that everything is fine… that they don’t hate their jobs.

I was fired once for having a “bad attitude.” It didn’t make any sense to me because I’m apparently notorious for my “life of the party” presence in an office setting. I asked what was wrong, they explained their side, and then after I spoke, it was determined a pretty big misunderstanding. It was a managerial error of sorts… I was under-managed and had over-demanding superiors, but my employment was terminated nonetheless.

It was recently suggested that this “bad attitude” actually exists; I was accused of having it again by another source. You know they say (at least by that one former fat girl on “Tough Love”): “when everybody says something about you, maybe it’s because it’s true.”

I can’t tell which part of myself to blame it on… blame it on my inability to lie about how I’m feeling, or blame it on my general dissatisfaction in life. I’ve never been good at hiding how I feel, but often I won’t speak up about it until it’s too late. I have a high expectation for life, and when it lets me down, it really lets me down. My general dissatisfaction for life has always loomed around me like some sick shadow whispering my only option is to swallow all of the pills in my medicine cabinet and wash it down with some bleach. Where was I when life always felt good? What was I doing? Who was I with? Why can’t I still have that?

I’m convinced that I’m supposed to live in some sort of New York paradise, while my imagination is consumed with the thought of apocalyptic dystopia. I am drowning in my own wanderlust; unable to be satisfied in one place.

I am 30 seconds from selling all of my personal belongings and leaving.

There is nowhere I am safe. There is nowhere I want to be. There is nowhere that brings me any sort of stationary comfort. I need someone to take the reins for a moment and stop me from the domino effect that’s about to begin. What I would like is to have my best friends back; they appear to have let all of my calls go to voicemail…

Maybe going to Boston this weekend will help. Getting out of New York may just inject some life back into me.

Dissatisfaction

February 4, 2010

this cold is tearing my body down and i think i’m depressed. i have absolutely no interest in anything.

February 2, 2010

scratching at the surface of a slightly bruised ego I
scoop up the shavings in my palms of my hands and
hold them up to the light.

they shimmer effortlessly in the cracks between my fingers.

my heart weighs heavy with the thought of leaving
a state of mind where I drove cross country to
stay in towns with names I’ve never heard of.

I fell in love just west of Burleson, Texas.

it was so warm I forgot it was winter and
loved the feeling of the sun on my arms cause
it reminded me of our summer on the beach.

you told me I looked slender in my swimsuit.

I can’t remember the last time I saw you but I
remember your scent that lingered on the clothes you
left for dead in my apartment.

it smelled like that soft spot on your neck.

I’m clawing at a memory of chemical reaction that
happens whenever I’m around you.

I crave that intimacy that shooting through my veins.