2010-05-22T18:20:00.001-07:00

Two uniform dots on the center of the world

And I feed them

As they feed me untruths and abuse

I'm damaged and frayed

And so overly apologetic for the mistakes that I have made

And continue to make

This is irreversible

And I am so afraid

Not a question of how to handle it

But of how to disappear, and turn away

I've burned you and forever

Well, forever is useless to us now

Recover or retreat

the only real option is to bow out

To vow

But its too late for cures

When earth's rotation sucks us in and spits us back out, broken.

Swollen and falling, hideous.

A mess that I cant clean, ever. Never again.

Kicking up our heels

2010-05-08T17:59:00.000-07:00

It wont settle.
Bounding above and beyond me, my worry click clicking to the beat of my pounding heartbeat.
The cascade, the cadence, the cavalcade of crumbling. Avoidance obsolete, fighting my eyelids. Stronger than me, heavy as the sea and sunlight chases us to bed
but far from fantasy.
When we rise again, the dream dies within but we hold fast, safe to nothing, pretending our secrets were no more than whispers in the wind.
Kicking up dirt with our heels and fighting it,
scaling hilltops and mountains as if survival weren't an obligation.
Lets dance to the music of our childhood laughter,
until the world we've come to know fades into the distant hereafter.
And we finally forget what promises we've made
when all that's left is dust, and decay.
A pact with coyotes is no match
...to the lies my eyes have told.

The Mad Ones

2010-02-23T11:52:00.000-08:00

First things First

2009-11-16T09:40:00.000-08:00

As I was beating myself up over what to write this all defining super important very first blog about, I felt that the best way to decide was to break it down to what lead me here. I asked myself why I even created this; and what I was hoping to attain from it. Foolishly I assumed that question would spark an outpouring of creative motivation & lead me to a topic on which to offer my humble opinion...but it turns out to have done quite the opposite. I am not a professional writer, nor am I overly opinionated, angry, funny or tremendously intelligent. But I am somewhat interesting, and aside from my 'poetic' ramblings on an anonymous livejournal page; I have nothing tangible to speak for this time of my life. The point is this: I've come to realize that I created this blog for myself. A documentation of what is most likely a string of successes & failures, disappointments & moments of pride, obsessions & disconnections, and a whole lot of commentary on fashion, food, film and music.

Now if we're going to start from the beginning, I may as well mention that I was conceived on the side of a mountain in Montana, and I've been a-moving and a-shaking ever since. (well literally moving anyway, at least 28 times so far!) I have an older sister with whom I used to pretend I was an Indian gathering berries & firewood with. We wore matching pajamas; you know - the real 80's polyester ones that sparked under the covers? I still have high regard for those; despite their discomfort and danger.

For a while it was just the three of us - myself, my sister Gabrielle, and my Mom. 3 brown-haired girls eating homemade banana pancakes on a warm Sunday morning in NJ. Those were the days; simplicity was all we knew and the television played cartoons that we didnt understand. There was a special bond between us then, the kind that only a child could overlook and mourn upon adulthood. Little did I know at the time; everything would change.

The years following this are somewhat of a blur. Things I know for certain: My mother met a man I didnt rather like. When I was 10, she gave birth to a little boy, Brandon (which of course I could never forget; I actually witnessed his birth.) I remember a few weeks later sitting with him in a rocking chair as he fell asleep in my arms. I recall the appreciation and pride I had for those moments - as he cried and fussed about in someone else's arms I would swoop in like a superhero and retrieve him from the wailing. I cradled him; singing a whisper until his beautiful blue eyes closed and he retreated into a quiet slumber. I'm not sure I will ever be able to replace that feeling with anything else. Maybe if I have my own? Anyhow, 2 years later Mom had another baby - a little girl we called Miranda. She was a precious and bright child with a boundless personality! She's practically a little woman now, and from what I can see she hasnt changed a bit. Although I wish I had more sweet memories with Miranda, this was right around the time that my life became somewhat of a challenge. Not to sound overdramatic; my losses never exactly included my mom, sisters & brother, the roof over my head, or my sanity. But this was when I came to learn that life was a strange and confusing thing, full of self-doubt, pressure, and regret. Currently of course I feel that regret is useless, but I'm also quite certain that's my sociopathic narcissism speaking. My mind's attempt to justify the things I do, even if I am ashamed of them. I suppose that way, I dont have to feel so bad? (When I make what turns out to be an awful decision however - which happens more often then I care to admit - I have to wonder if that way of thinking is ultimately not the best. More on that later...)

Within those 1460 days between 14 and 18, my biological father would pass away, his mom would go 3 years & 6 months to the day later, I would be arrested for underage drinking, get admitted to hospital as a danger to myself, end up involved in a court battle over why Brandon & Miranda's father was unfit to have joint custody, allow resentment for my family to grow, perform poorly in school and self-medicate with food, live with a friend to finish high school when my mom moved out of town at the beginning of my Senior Year, and sit through hours upon endless hours of therapy to try and 'fix me'. Have I ever been fixed? Not likely. Have I ever been broken? Thats up for discussion.

After graduating High School I moved to New Brunswick and stayed with a friend, until I realized that he was looking for something from me that went above and beyond the call of duty. I joined a band and ended up moving North to another college town, Montclair - with a roomate who found out she was pregnant 2 months later. We lost our security for breaching the lease and I stayed on a friends couch in a beautiful 2-bedroom flat with a red white & black kitchen until her roomate moved back home. I gladly took over his room and rent. Within 6 months, roomate #3 had to move as well. At this time, money was so tight that I only had enough in savings combined with salary that I could pay 4 months rent before I was utterly destitute. Mom had moved with the family to another country, and if I wanted to stay in Jersey, I had nowhere to go. I ended up renting a room in an awfully dirty and decrepit building with a community bathroom and no kitchen. After I found the peep holes in the walls and learned that someone had broken into my room when I wasnt home, I moved in with a family friend and we agreed that my room would be free in exchange for childcare. The woman I lived with ended up helping me get an office job that I still have today. I never went to college, which is probably a good thing considering my financial woes and lack of living security. The years encompassing the above paragraph were specifically tumultuous, certainly there are tons of details that I am leaving out all over this blog in an attempt to allow you a break between my ramblings. (Including the time I took a Greyhound Bus for 2.5 days each way on a trip and got stopped at 5am by the swat team on the 2nd day; guns drawn & bullet proof vests - and later learned that we had 2 murderers evading the law in the seat across from us. Good times!?) But I feel incomplete and anxious about how to end this entry. Of course, I am not sure that the hectic nature of my life has ever ceased, not that I'm complaining - if fact I am quite happy with stories to tell. As they always say, "we'll laugh about this later", the greyhound story is an antidote for a quiet evening around the bonfire. And today is a good day regardless! I will be going out for Tex Mex this evening with some dear friends, or - 'scissor sisters' as we call each other. (Not that it's exactly literal, but we're quite fond of our bromance.) We'll be giving 2009 the finger as we sip our margaritas. With that thought, I'll give you some time for a bathroom break.

I drank a thimbleful of fire & Im never going back

Kicking up our heels

The Mad Ones

First things First