Also, “Cameron is so tight that if you stuck a lump of coal up his ass, in a WEEK you’ll get a diamond.” –My Hero
Archive for March, 2009
I’ll probably delete this tomorrow or tear it up. “Tear it up” is better. I probably WILL have gotten more than three hours by then and WILL have felt more normal and will read this and think, “JERK!” Or OH, that was so 24 hours ago. That was SO not worth the anger. Not worth the energy to NOT get over and instead transcribe into some inanimate 2Dimentional useless piece of garbage. I shouldn’t go into work today. I’ll see the same gray floors and carpeting on three hours and think, WOW – REMEMBER THE LAST 47 TIMES THIS HAPPENED? And how you were SO SURE and faithful that you’d just bounce back? Things you tell yourself that the human body actually does. Work isn’t what I need a day off from. I cleaned out my room yesterday, frightened. Frightened because when I get rid of stuff, I get ridddd of stuff. Have such little attachment to mostly everything (Except 2 or 3 things) that if you said, Here, Honey-baby, you have the freedom to demolish all you want, well, and then watch the FUCK out. I don’t need all these clothes. I have loose papers, though, or writings folded into fourths and wedged into the corners of my book shelf – dangerous, so I’m staying away from the bookshelf for now. But all this other stuff? I’ll give it to the Salvation Army. (And there’s still so much left over.)I know who I am, though. Know who I am well enough to NOT bang myself against a wall simply because if I physically deform myself because I can’t sleep, well then I’m a fucking rag idiot. It’s not my house I need to get away from either. What do I come from? I come from a former actor/stand-up comedian and a headstrong, hardworking artist. And the light from the 6am window reflects on my belly dancing costume casting what look like gold sparkles on my ceiling. That’s pretty, though, isn’t it?
But everything other than the sparkles on my ceiling is why I’d like to see a movie where a baby gets shot. Not SEE it get shot, just hear the noise then the abrupt stopping of… Noise. JUST TO SEE if I’ll feel anything. Just to see. I probably would – just do a damn good job at hiding it. This anger is self-made. Look! Like a rags-to-riches business man, self-made, except this isn’t success. This is tar. And I made it all by myself! I hear “I love you” while people leave the house and I think Fuck you. Not to the person, just to the I love you. “You need to trust yourself more.” Things I say to other people and then when I hear it said to me, it makes sense for five minutes til I get up and think, Naw’m good. Show me ONE person who’s gotten it right and I’ll be all ears. If it’s gonna be like this forever (which is TOTALLY fine!) but I’m curious, ya know? If it’s gonna be like this forever, then well, I wanna score fucking big. No, that’s a horrible way to think. No it’s not, sometimes. (Part where I speak like a crazy.) I want a tall one! I want a giant one! (House) I want materials. All those years of knowing I didn’t care about materials and said I had faith in things (HAH! Faith) well, I was being a total fruit. <- I said Fruit; this is a TNT version of Goodfellas. (Crazy keeps on talking) I’m gonna start having bad, generic “Big Love” goals, now. Bad, predictable goals. Ohh and SHALLOW. I’m gonna be so SHALLOW and reapply all that lipstick over and over. I’m gonna drink for the sake of drinking (more) and say things like “WASTED!” and “Ohh Such is life” while smoking a cigarette when someone says something remotely serious and make ‘em feel (this big.)I did a cool thing on Friday but talking about it after this monster is just diary candy or prostitution. The art of making things appear to be ok. Ya know, how you talk about new things you bought, or new people (that you fancy), or recipes or new movies. Just to ya know, fill the air. Remind people you’re alive. (That’s not “alive” though.) But it’s like you go and do something cool then equilibrium comes in and reminds you when the next train comes and that, yes, you’re still just THIS. You will always be this. Even your BODY’S not fooled by it. Or the garbage bags filled with things you have no use for. Fool me, Weather. Be bright and sunny like you were an hour ago. STOP STATING THE FUCKING OBVIOUS. I’m not gonna be one of THOSE and blame this on March. I’m blaming this on “Suck” and Me.
*People who speak in this tone/with this attitude repeatedly should be punished severely. Like, I SEE the unhealthiness. I see it.
(Raise hand) In the case with people who need to trust themselves before they can get further ahead with anything else: How would one suggest to, um, start doing that? Without the stupid love yourself/have more confidence crap. Cause no one has confidence – only a bunch of blazers (I have 2). Like, what do you… DO? Go on walks (MORE WALKS?) Eat a… eat a nice… wholesome, whole wheat turkey wrap? Eh? That’s not funny. Watch a mewwwvie? (Draw ) Read. Reading’s good. Funny cause I went back to blockbuster mode on my way back to library, and had a quick “Did I remember to rewind” moment. It made me laugh ’cause you can’t rewind books.
I’ve been perusing some writing prompts and found most to be ok. Then i came to this: List 10 things from your childhood you can’t do anymore but wish you could. And i thought… this is A STUPID, STUPID THING.
OH! I wish i could take a time machine back to relive the days of NOT being able to share insight in an adult conversation without being shushed or aw’d or you’re-cute’d.
OH! Sitting at the kiddie table! The one with plastic silverware and the kids who whine about how their food is “touching.”
OH! “Inappropriate” movies. (being made to go to bed because an (otherwise GOOD) movie has sex in it. (Someone please tell that bubbly woman in her mid-to-late 30s that I know what sex is and watch it on TV regularly.)
OH! Skip-its. (Those were awful, including the commercials.)
OH! Pretending to like Saved By the Bell cause that’s what the pretty people were doing.
OH! Told I was too thin / told I was too chubby
OH! Having to wear those nasty jerseys and run around with some ball in a playground.
OH! Ruining people’s lives by piercing my own ears and cutting my own hair.
OH! Mind-numbing anxiety.
OH! fear of hot peppers on my tongue.
OH! Being yelled at for rolling my eyes too much (My only defense!)
Honestly, I don’t miss it. Turning 21 was good solely because I was actually (according to the rules) let INTO places. And the things I liked? I STILL do – So this writing prompt can GO EAT ITSELF.
I get aggitated by those who say, “Oh, growing up… sigh.” First of all, don’t say “Sigh.” <- makes you sound like a GODDAMN idiot. (*I’m fully aware that idiots come in all shapes and ages and that sitting at an adult table doesn’t ensure insightful conversation, But the chances are definitely higher/bettter.)
Couldn’t find my phone and I called it from the house. Didn’t hear it ringing in real life so it meant it was either outside on the ground somewhere or in the car which was out and in use by someone else OR maybe/OH GOD somewhere between NYC and my bedroom. While on the phone I winced as I knew I’d be hearing my voicemail prompt soon and SONOFABITCH. My critique: Trainwreck. It wasn’t BAD, but it was just so sincere and bubbly and sweet and SO due for a beating. Also recorded 3-4 years prior. I remember the room I was in as I recorded it, reminding me of 3-4 years earlier…
There was a time when I believed that if i was just myself – no, ‘myself’ is the wrong word. Where I could just be honest about things – or how I feel (maybe even be emotional) it would benefit me more. My problem was I was never good at following through. Spurts of confidence (no, confidence is the wrong word.) Spurts of strength, sincerity, feeling (maybe even emotion) all followed by /OH GOD/ followed by the reality of how what you just said is just SO naive and BAM! KNUCKLE SANDWICH! Like, Aw isn’t it cute? She likes expressing herself. So there’s that, then there’s the fear I’d get to the point where I’d have to be ‘cool.” Cool to cover up the mushy, soft shelled stuff that pretty much? everyone has, but never owns up to. I always knew “cool” was a fake and tried hard to stay away from simple sugars, Then i hear myself (actually hear myself) and it’s like “ehhh you know what? Maybe you NEED some simple sugar.” Cause all this wholesome stuff I’ve been such a fan of just makes me blush like an idiot. So, I’ll take this “Mr. Cool” brown paper bag and put it over my head and comment on our silly world saying things like, “For serious?” and “Booo!” (Uh… sorry) And eventually I found it.
I erased it – not ’cause of brown paper bags. More ’cause it’s been about four years already.
A thought occurred to me (which is usually how it works).
So, a thought occurred to me when I wore this hoodie – again. Just kinda threw it on. Just kinda casually swung it around my shoulders going to Friday-work needing a little something to cover the maybe-too-open shirt. That I could also just roll up and put on the shelf under the phones. The thought had to do with (pertained to – oooooh! Pertained to): How many times I’ve worn it and how many places it’s been. Watch me get even more profound with an example that’s anything but. See a facebook picture from a year ago – me a year stupider. Wearing it – AND that necklace. Did they get smarter WITH me? Or were they smart all along? Just kinda being there having to sit through what they already knew would happen. (Or is it just an item of clothing? Or is it just a string of beads that’s meant to be put around a human neck?) So, hoodie. The amount of floor-time this hoodie’s had. Or the amount of floors, period.
Picture of me with that stupid fmile and BTW, the necklace. Picture of me with a less-stupid smile and BTW the necklace.
I never thought this way about STUFF before. Touch the diamond ring she wears right now and know it’s been touched/worn by her mother and HER mother. it’s ALMOST creepy. Guess it depends on what you like. The THINGS you like. Like, if you meet a filmmaker who’s lived and filmmade since the Eisensteinian Era, it’s goosebumpy. Or when I see WWII vets. Or certain typewriters.
NOW I realize why women hold onto their elders’ fancy dishware. (But if i get the case of the “dishes” please stop me. Encourage me to go talk to someone!)
I didn’t fight in the second World War, just have gotten a tad less dumb with a hoodie that’s been around to watch.
I’m kind of a slow learner in that it took me until a few years ago to accept or ‘get” that these bones (including teeth) are going to be the same bones I have when I’m old. This skin; this beauty mark. (We all have those smartass friends who’re like “ummmm actually? our cells reproduce at a certain rate so that ummmm by the time so-and-so years go by we’re made of entirely new… matter and ummmm” That’s when I punch ’em in the face. Science is nice ‘n all, but that’s not what I’m talking about.
It’s the same. Same bones, same nose, same core. Only thing that changes over and over is your hair. That’s all very creepy, cool and wonderful. These bones probably know something about me that I won’t know for another 30 years.
“My mom said, “Of course you’re tired – you’re a working woman now.” I told her that makes me sound like a hooker.”
“See, MY mom just says “What up Slutttttt” – at least I know who I am.”
I’m entirely against phrases like “I’m tiredddd” because people around me say it a lot with updates on their sleeping schedules and it’s not fun to listen to. Same goes for I’m Hungry or I’m Cold – no, actually I’m Cold is alright cause you can’t control climate. But the other two are things I do to myself so why… complain about it? But I can’t fall asleep – OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD. I watched hours peel away wondering what the NORMAL people out there were doing right now. Also liking phrases/ideas that popped into my head that i couldn’t find a pen for nor could I find the energy to get up. So, I set up little mini mental mazes where hopefully i’d remember them sometime later in the day. I promised myself I wouldn’t mention Tired or Sleep to live people, but it just came out in response to the default “How are you” as i walked down the stairs and I thought DAMNIT! I let it happen!
“Happens to me all the time – I bet your face is all pasty” he types.
“Wait, are you happy about this?”
“No? Kinda. No- no definitely not. My eyes are all purply underneath and my face is totally pale.”
“You like looking sick?”
But people love talking about their sleeping patterns. It’s like a thing.
I overheard them:
“I took this nap earlier and it was SO awesome cause it totally rejuvinated me.”
(15 seconds later)
“I was so tired, but i took this nap and it…”
“…Totally rejuvinated you? Yeah i read about it on Google news it was everywhere.”
“Hey! Why don’t you go back to your little hangout in chelsea and shutcher pie hole!”
INSANE LAUGHING (Best sleep talk I’ve had in a while.)