Unexpected

Sometimes in life you're surprised by unexpected catharsis.

And nothing has ever felt so wonderful. 

Goodbye June. 

Fessing up

I've been sitting on some thoughts for a while now. I contemplated writing some sort of vague blog post, but it's not really my style. I contemplated not blogging at all - I mean who really needs or wants to read this crap anyways? But as I find myself continuing to fall deeper into the sewers I think I need a place to vent, to write and share what's truly on my mind. Truthfully, I'm scared I'm going to be lost otherwise.

I've been frightened by myself lately - who is this person? Why is she still sitting on the couch? Why is she wearing dirty clothes when there are freshly laundered clothes hanging in the closet? Why is she moping around the house drinking all the beer and taking all the pills? Why is she punching the pillows and crying through eight boxes of kleenex on a Sunday morning when the sun is shining and she should be outside? Who IS this person that doesn't want to hold a conversation, but would rather drown the thoughts out of her head with music? Why must she wish for the darkness and shake her fists at the sun? Why is the depression so much harder than it's ever been before?

Why is this my life right now?

Please forgive my honestly and bluntness, but I just don't care anymore. Every day I have more rage and I don't know how to cope, and the only thing I can think to fix it is to vomit these words all over this page. Screw these secrets for making me feel like I'm hiding in my own body. Fuck holding onto this any longer - I'm sick of feeling this way. I'm sick of these days in June all humid and sweaty. Bring on the thunderstorm and crack all the trees in two. Finally then the earth will be as broken as I feel on the inside. I'm just so tired of pretending.

It started with piss and it ended with blood, and never in a million years would I have guessed that two bodily fluids would cause me to run through such a wide spectrum of feelings. It was so promising to think that this was finally happening in our lives. Such happiness and joy.

We were finally going to have a baby.

But in only what felt like an instant, life passed by us with the suddenness of wind. Now it's as if my every other thought returns to that day, and the blind happiness I held has vanished completely. Too often I'm sitting on the floor hugging my knees to my chest, head buried deep while trying to hold back the tears. Too often I'm telling myself to just fucking get over it already, move on. But everything keeps bringing me back to those feelings - everything around me is mocking me. The shows on television, the junk mail on my coffee table, the fucking smiling beautiful couple pushing their stroller with their infant inside as they walk past me...and I only have a mere dog.

I've failed. And although I know it's not the end - in fact, it's very far from it - I'm struggling to move past it. I'm treading water in the deep end but I just can't seem to keep up. And the pills are gone, and it's not appropriate to drink in the morning - just like it's not acceptable to scream FUCK YOU WORLD to the sky in the parking lot of the grocery store after you're all wet from a rain you didn't see coming. And to put the delicious red cherry on the sundae, someone you love falls ill and now you find yourself riddled even further with thoughts of death and sadness. And before you even knew what was happening you're so full of rage that you just can't keep pent up inside any longer, but when you try to let it out it escapes you in the form of hysterical laughter.

No wonder why I feel so insane.

Please night, come soon.

There came a moment when I finally thought I was all out of tears. It was that moment that the sky opened up and took over for me. Rain came gushing out onto the streets, pouring onto the grass and washing the dirt down into the sewers. Part of me wanted to stand in the rain hoping it would cleanse me and wash me clean, but I couldn't bare to go outside.

Even the shows on television are mocking me. Curled up on the couch I feel like I want to avoid the world forever, but I know that as the hours tick away, Monday draws closer than ever and before I know it my alarm clock will sound and I will venture out into the world again.

I don't want anyone to look at me, and I don't want to talk. I don't want to talk about your weekend you spent with your family. I don't want to hear about your kid's baseball game. I don't want to hear how you sat around on Sunday and celebrated Father's Day in the nice weather while you ate perfectly cooked hamburgers and laughed at family memories. Hell, I couldn't even pick up the phone to call my own father today and even though I feel bad, I don't feel bad enough to dial those numbers.

The rain has stopped and the sun is peeking out from behind the clouds again. I wish the rain never stopped and that the day turned to night. Right now I only wish I could sleep for weeks.

Fuck it.

I hate everything. 

Wow

What a day.

If only

I wish I could just escape to the river today.

Drinking Arbor Mist or my own little bottle of rum.

Deedly dum.

Some days I wonder

Is this real life? Was I dreaming? Am I awake or am I still sleeping? 

I'm floating and my brain is racing. I've drifted into a different world - A world I thought I would never see. 

Is this me?

Storm Clouds on Sunday

I read my horoscope this evening.

"There can be some side-tracking in your life these days due to a basic yearning for something more than just mundane existence, dear Taurus, and this is especially the case today and tomorrow. It's not a bad thing to yearn for more - in fact, without dissatisfaction, progress may never be made."

Dissatisfaction. Is this truly a good thing? Is this progress that I can't even see?

To say I've been side-tracked is an understatement. Chaos has ruled my days, but I can't really find the source of the chaotic storm. To further complicate things, living life one handed is frustrating and most days the pain won't quit radiating from my shoulder. Sleeping is impossible, and when it comes I'm grateful and surprised. I'm certain the sleep can be attributed to the pain medication... the sweet, sweet pain medication. My brain is in a fuzz, but I kind of enjoy the numb feeling.

But this Sunday the rain came. Water came pouring out of the sky as thunder roared through the clouds. My soul shook and I can feel the breeze coming in. I can feel that things are changing.

It feels like the sun is coming out soon.

Hello Russia

Nice to meet you. I enjoy vodka and cold weather. It seems we may have something in common.

Hello.

Short

I think I would like to open all the windows in my house, build a blanket fort, and turn off the lights. I'll bring pillows, cheetos, beer and vicodin.

Such a wonderful life.

There were fireworks in the sky this time

This morning I stood in the shower for longer than usual, contemplating whether or not I wanted to sit down and take a showerbath. I opted not to, even though I knew it would feel wonderful. I spent most of my time scrubbing my hands in an attempt to scrub the smell of last night's cigarettes out of my fingertips, yet even now I swear the smell still lingers. I don't regret it though. The cigarette paired nicely with booze and conversation, and I had not quite enough of any of those things last night. I sat at the bar stool and let my feet dangle while I rested my elbows on the counter top, and I pondered the week ahead as I forgot about the week before. I told myself I'm going to be better. I'm going to have a little fun. And I realized that my company saw I was lost in my thoughts so I forced myself to snap back to the reality I desperately sought to escape. No dice this time.

I'm going to teach myself to talk again as soon as my coworker stops slurping soup every day at noon. One of these days I will sit down and talk for hours and at the end of the time I might even feel like life is good. One of these days I'll write a song again just like one of these days I'll start working on my garden. No brussels sprouts for me, thanks. I'd much rather plant dill.

This fourth of July I might play Edward 40 Hands and go watch fireworks down by the railroad tracks. I could wander to the nearest hotdog stand and request a bowl of soup, and wait anxiously as they check the menu and tell me it's impossible. Nothing is impossible, I'll tell them as I run towards the stoplight. The ice cream man will be my saving grace as he hands me a Sonic the Hedgehog ice cream with those bubblegum eyes. Oh yeah, those bubblegum eyes. 

Funny enough the dollar store was all sold out of bubbles, so I bought sprees instead. Wouldn't it be just my luck to open the container to find it's filled with those disgusting yellow candies. 

Fuck.

I hate flavored coffee more than anything

There was a night were I tossed and turned throughout my so-called sleep, and when I woke in the morning I felt like summer even though it was clearly spring. It was a night filled with intense dreams and vivid colors - something I haven't experienced in quite some time.

While at work I ended up breaking down completely. Provoked by MOBS my attitude changed from quiet to bawdy as I began vomiting curse words and raising my voice. It wasn't until I ran outside of the building that I realized I was desperate for air, and as soon as I finally got a good breath of air I started crying. Another morning where tears are my alarm clock.

Often when my thoughts start to overcome me I'll aimlessly browse Amazon for items I might like to purchase. I'll load up my cart with numerous objects, and right before I'm ready to click "purchase" I'll log out. Sometimes I'll rifle through the medicine chest hoping to find something to comfort me, and when I find nothing I'll go watch TV. I'm perplexed by my own wandering, enough so to write it down... even if it isn't always the complete story.

One day I'm sure I'll write it all, but I just have to figure out how. Perhaps it'll be easier after a bottle of wine.

Jagged Little Pill

Sunday melancholy and cartoons. 

Right now I just don't understand the purpose of this blog any longer. 

I think zebra and horse teeth are scary.

Hunger pangs shoot through my stomach, but I just ate dinner.

Yes, ma'amazon. 

For sometimes the night falls quicker than normal

Just keep moving along. Everything here is a lie.

Spring lurks in the distance and my teeth are hurting again. I'm sleeping better than usual these days, yet I'm drinking more water before I go to bed. I've gotten into the habit of peeing with the bathroom door open in the middle of the night in case a centipede should start chasing me. I need a place to escape.

The pillow doesn't quite comfort my head any longer, and I do the only thing I know to do to make my outside feelings match the ones swirling around my brain. I'll try my hardest to refrain from the usual items I seek solace in, but it won't be long before I have a pack of smokes, a drink, and maybe a couple of pills in front of me. Quite frankly, I disgust myself.

Complacency is so rampant in my life, and the longing for change never seems to subside. I'm sick of pretending that things are just fine. How are you doing today?

Winter holidays are so far away and I'm mad at SPRING for waking me up with the sunlight shining through my curtains. I was certain I had covered up all the places where the sun could shine through. The breeze from the fan is comforting, but I don't see how that's any damn different than the cold in the winter time. These days in this year feel like I'm not ready for anything at all.

Accepting these days seems hard enough, but as much as I try to quell these unjustified thoughts, suddenly I'm lost once more. Fraudulently wandering the streets of my city, I wish someone would just grab my shoulders and shake me and beg me to wake up.

I tried to shake myself awake, but I was still in a dream.

Monday Brain

There are times I convince myself that I like living in the land of unrest. It's this crazy place where everything seems to be nocturnal, even the sunrise. Once a frog came up to me and licked my shoe at three in the morning while I was walking down University in search for a milkshake. We smiled at each other and I pointed him in the direction of the nearest Super America. It wasn't until I crossed Cretin that I realized he was wearing a pair of Converse.

If it smells like trash it probably is trash, although I can't smell my thoughts so I'm not quite sure how to properly judge them. When I'm feeling creative I make a steak and try to eat it with a butter knife, and I leave the steak sauce in the fridge to help stir imagination. Often I find myself contemplating how different my life would be had I made alternate life choices. What if instead I was an architect or a nurse? Maybe I never went to college and smoked joints in a studio apartment all day? Or perhaps I became a lesbian that lived in the suburbs and drank iced tea on Sunday? Better yet, what if I was the person that got to name streets in a new town? I bet everyone would want to be my friend.

Sometimes the clock moves too slow. I'll stare at it just sitting there up on the wall and I'll yell a little bit. It never responds, but if it could I'm sure it would tell me to quit yelling. There are certain Mondays that I'll bring my yells to the local bar and secretly yell everything I say. Most people think I'm just talking, but I'm laughing inside from yelling so much. I try not to yell on Tuesdays because the vibe of the world is just so much different than Monday.

When it's yesterday from this Wednesday I plan on drinking tall beers while I sit outside on my front step and watch the cars go by. I might drink wine straight from the bottle, but either way I'll be working on drinking. Anything to get rid of this Monday Brain.

Life List

April 24, 1986. 1:37 PM. Rain. Concern. Birth.
1. Tears, piss, and dependence
2. Growth. Learning to become a person.
3. Excitement and anticipation. Pain and blood... lots of blood. Fear and recuperation.
4. Life is better with a pink convertible
5. The dress is plaid, ok? I know it's your favorite.
6. It was early and the snow was so sparkly
7. Do I really need to know this news?
8. Baby-sitters Little Sister
9. A change. A new last name. Now I am finally the same as the rest of them.
10. The bestworst wedding ever
11. Eleven
12. So it begins
13. Just like I always imagined. Not.
14. Trouble
15. Some sort of salvation
16. Too many eggrolls. Life is a little dizzy.
17. Spring break grounded. Again. For the fourth time.
18. A graduation and farewell
19. Time heals all wounds. There are no regrets.
20. FRENZY. FRENZY. PARTY. FRENZY.
21. I didn't puke.
22. I think we should name it Ruggles
23. He asked me dressed like a sperm. I said yes.
24. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times
25. Wondrous joy and celebration. Unity of souls and everlasting passion.
26. $2,000
27. ?????

Mirror

I found myself sitting on the bathroom floor this morning pondering things like, is it acceptable to eat chips and guacamole for breakfast and 50 ways I could eat a fried egg. I brought my coffee in there to help me gain perspective but I ended up looking up at the water stained mirror, realizing that a bath mat is not the most comfortable place to sit. I could take a shower and use the bathroom for what it was intended for, but that would completely defeat the purpose.

A couple of years ago I thought that it would be wise to hop on a plane and fly into Canada where I could make a life for myself hiking and building huts in the forest. That same year I called my dog a jerk and didn't feel bad about it at all.

It was my birthday in 2006 and it wasn't until I got to the elevator that I noticed he must have been trying to catch up with me once our class had dismissed. "Happy Birthday" he spoke, slightly out of breath. I just said thanks, flashed him a smile because it felt appropriate, and stepped into the elevator without another word. Years later he brought me a present to share and I responded with anger and obscene gestures. That was the one day I made him cry, and I know I'll never stop feeling like a terrible person whenever I remember that day.

More and more I use humor to deflect situations where I might actually have to open up about myself. I fear getting close to people because someday they'll be gone. I've avoided the red-handled tool I once sought comfort with, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about it from time to time. My aunt taught me that top-the-tater is a wonderful dip for Nacho Cheese Doritos, and that's something I think about all the time.

Recently I began eating salad for lunch and I liked it so much I went out and bought two more containers of sunburst tomatoes even though I still had three unopened containers in the fridge. I prefer to run errands early in the morning, and sometimes it's better with just a little bit of green.

The coffee has gotten cooler. Perhaps it's time to drive.

Nonsense

I've lost the ability to reckon with my reasoning
holding onto today's comfort just because it's there
Maybe it's gone away, but I'll never know because quite frankly I don't care

Drowning in a sea of caffeinated beverages, procrastinating appendages do nothing for my image
Failing to punctuate, just swimming in a sea promoting shrinkage

Desperate for the yellow, the notes that tell me hello
Orange, rosemary, juice and marjoram
But even if I never get around to making jam
The basement still beckons me, that fellow that I never see

Writing just for giggles
My drawings look like squiggles
Knowing that they're worse than Monday after Sunday's rain

This chicken is over-seasoned
Too salty, that's the reason
Baked at 350 just like your mother said

Going back to messy head
Jumping out of my twin bed
Falling to the ground below
Just like this fucking April snow

Longing for Spring

Everything in my life lately appears to be some shade of blue. Sometimes I'll see a random taxi cab drive by me, and even the bright yellow seems to have a blueish tint. Winter has been too long, and it's not even close to over. I try to remember what it's like to smell grass and rain, but my nose is dry from the cold and the only thing I smell is the desperation of my body longing for spring.

I've always loved winter - the cold air, the peacefulness of nature as it hides under a blanket of snow and ice. But it seems like every winter I make promises to myself that never come true. I'm going to find the winter carnival medallion. I'm going to attempt to learn how to snowboard. One Saturday morning I woke up and thought about how fun it would be to get outside and build a snow fort. I resigned to covering myself with a white blanket on the couch instead.

I fear that I'm lost in some sort of deep depression, but I've managed to convince myself that I'm not. I've become a functioning depressed person. My depression is completely invisible to those around me, and then only things that are really affected are my dreams - that, and whatever mental balance is left in my head.

I'm manic. Switching between a mental state of happiness and melancholy. My brain is constantly screaming at the things around me, but I just smile and laugh. I'll cope by buying a new journal, filling eight pages with frantic writing, and then I'll stash it somewhere in my house never to be written in again.

Spring - please come soon.

Adventures in Depression

Drive towards the stop sign.
Take a left.
Park under the "No Parking on Tuesdays" sign even though it's Tuesday.
Sigh, but stay.
Turn up the radio.
Close your eyes.
Wait for Christmas to come again.

Taeper, Repeat

Just like every other morning I've woken up with that damn song stuck in my head again. After a night of vivid dreams and restful slumber I'm wondering why this song refuses to leave me. The days have been so lackluster lately, and the nights so mundane. Evenings with repetitive dinners because I'm too lazy to create. Evenings with nothing but repeats on the television set, but I'm drawn in anyways because my brain refuses to think.  Everything around me is stuck in repeat, and perhaps I am too - at least in my head.

Go tell Aunt Rhody the old grey goose is dead

Drawn out Destruction

There are days where the frustration is just too much to hold inside
and because it's just not ok for some reason that I should lean back in my chair and scream
I reach for the pencil and I reach for my little sword
and I kill the pencil just a little bit more

Enigma

High pitched overtones and purposeful dissonance escaped the speakers. The artist, trapped deep inside sang his song. He wasn't worried about breaking free, no, he wasn't worried.

He danced and he sang. 

The small little man pulled the microphone closer to his lips, closed his eyes and belted out the songs that he found deep in his heart. He heard the backup to his songs playing behind him - the drums pounding out the beat, the bass guitar following his melody, and the piano laying peaceful direction. He heard the backup that wasn't there. 

But the tiny little man trapped inside the speakers danced. He danced and he sang his song. 

She danced too.

She stood in the middle of the kitchen all alone. She peered into the speaker looking for the tiny man she could never find. The tiny man that she could never rescue. But she could hear his song, and she could hear the backup playing his songs behind him. She twirled around in the kitchen and danced to the drums pounding out the beat. To the bass guitar following the melody. To the piano laying out a peaceful direction. She danced to the songs that he found deep in his heart. 

Together, they created a world of their own through the mystery of the music.