I'm On Fire

"Hey little girl is your daddy home
Did he go away and leave you all alone
I got a bad desire
I'm on fire

Tell me now baby is he good to you,
Can he do to you the things that I do
I can take you higher
I'm on fire

Sometimes it's like someone took a knife baby
Edgy and dull and cut a six-inch valley
Through the middle of my soul

At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet
And a freight train running through the
Middle of my head
Only you can cool my desire
I'm on fire"

For the record and shit, I'm not a HUGE B. Springsteen fan or anything (I do like him a lot) but this song is one of the most amazing songs ever created.  At least to me.  Anyway - I think about this song all the time.  Every time I think of my Dad, this song pops in my head.  My Dad did leave me alone.  Not all alone at all, my Mom was the most precious thing to me - she raised me into the person I am.  But yeah, Dad left.  I truly think for the better, I can't imagine had he stuck around.  He was so sad and unhappy when he left - people don't think I remember, but I remember.  I was 10 years old.  I might have been naive -  I might have been unexperienced at love but I could tell when my parents were happy and when they weren't.  I never would have wanted him to stay and be unhappy.  Marriage doesn't work sometimes.  It wasn't anyone's fault.  I know I never blamed myself, or either my Mom or Dad for that matter.  Although, I think he created his own unhappiness - he always does.  I have a much better grasp on that now than I did then.  He is someone who runs from his problems, rather than solving them.  He is someone who ran out on two marriages, two daughters.  He is a coward but who I am I judge someone.  I am not inside his head, I do not feel his fears.  But I can say that I am more of a man than he ever was.  He is a fool.  The smartest, most charismatic fool I've ever known.  Yet, I adore him.  To the most capacity that I can for someone who cognitively distanced themselves from me for over a decade.  

Sometimes, my anger shows through.  I am angry at him for some things.  I'm not angry at all that he left me.  However, it makes me angry that he somehow, fell out of love with my Mom.  I can't imagine that.  I can't imagine who could have been better.  She was and is everything anyone could want.  How could he hurt her?  How could he never want to be with her again?  How on earth could someone (and I know the person, you don't) be better than this woman?  The answer is no one.  All things aside, my Mom, as a person is the most loving, supportive, understanding, intelligent, beautiful thing that I have gotten to know.  I think he fucked up, big time.  But what the fuck does my opinion matter? 

I don't have much else to say on the matter.  I love him, despite everything.  He's a part of me, even though months go by that we speak and years go by that I see him.  2007 was the last time.  And it might be the last time completely. And I'm fine with that.  He's been gone so long that it's actually weird to be around him.  He likes to pretend that he knows who I am but he doesn't.  He says he's proud of me but it means nothing.  He says he loves me more than the sky loves blue but it doesn't go anywhere.  Love is something you show not something you say.  But that's okay, I want him to say whatever makes him feel better about himself, whatever helps him sleep at night.  

It's funny... how you can get older and understand your parents mistakes better than they can.  I'll never leave my children.  I'll never miss out on a moment of their lives, if I can.  The only thing that could take me away from them will be death.  

Although, I feel like he's been dead for years.  I feel like he thinks he's been dead for years. Perhaps that's the problem.  

P.S. Thanks for the mental health problems Dad.  I really appreciate it.  Genetics are fucked. 

Hemingway

I'm sitting here in the bathroom, darkness all around me.
I saw a silverfish earlier, before I sat down here, before I made my nest.
Hello Kitty blanket, MacBook, bong.
I almost killed it, it's little alien-like body, but I didn't.
I watched it scurry into it's safe little corner, behind my shampoo bottle.
I didn't have the heart to harm it.  They creep me out but I've never killed one.
I only watch them run frantically to their home, inside the pipes, inside the drains.
What a dark life they must lead.  Maybe they like it, maybe they are just like me.

When I drink and write, I think of two people.
Bukowski, my man, my love, the most real person to walk this planet.
No lies, no shame, no regrets, just truth and passion and grime.
Hemingway, my ship, my voyage, the most honest man to live and breathe life into words.
No lies, no shame, no regrets, just truth and passion and grime.
These are the men that I have looked up to, that I have molded my small, female existence after.

There is nothing that I love more in this life than human emotion.
As humans, we are the most silly but amazing creation and our emotions purely reflect this notion.
Look at the myriad of emotions we experience, even in one moment, one minute, one day, one week.
Look at the choices we make and the feelings we feel and act on, speak on, walk on, think on.
We can be the stupidest, the smartest, the most creative, the most talented, the possibilities are endless.
We are endless.  Not our existence but our words, our thoughts, our inventions.
To think, we are just made up of particles, of atoms - and yet we breathe this air, our blood circulates.
We are a nervous system, a veiny mess of arteries and muscle and marrow.
We are so complicated, which is the most beautiful part.  No each is the same.
No each should wish to be the same.  Snowflakes, each and every one.

We cry, we laugh, we hate, we love, we punch, we hug, we kill, we maim.
We choke, we cough, we sneeze, we lie, we tell the most incredible stories.
The most amazing thing is reality, our experiences.
The most amazing thing is fantasy, our dreams, our projections.
The most amazing thing is truth, no matter how harsh or soft.
The most amazing thing is to just be.
To learn.
To love.
To write.

My only passion. Bringing the everything and nothing, to life.

"An intellectual says a simple thing in a hard way.  An artist says a hard thing in a simple way."

THANKFULLY THANKFUL [ENDLESSLY]

It's very hard to be away from my Mom and dog on Thanksgiving, considering they are 2 of the most wonderful and beautiful things in my entire life and therefore, I am most thankful for them.  There are no words to fully be able to explain the love I have for my Mother.  Although we had our fair share of ups and downs over the years, she has become not only the best Mother (and basically Father) than anyone could ever ask for but she is my best friend, my therapist, my inspiration, my idol, my hero, my rock and so much more.  I would have floated away long ago if it weren't for her constant love, admiration and advice.  She is the most precious thing to me and I would be absolutely nothing without her.  She fought for me, she made me happen and I am so thankful that she exists and was able to bring me into this world.  Without being brought into this world, I would not be able to have experienced all the amazing things that I have in my life so far.  Even if I said "thank you" to her everyday (which I do, for various reasons), I will never be able to say it as much as I mean it.  There are also so many things that I am thankful for and I don't need one day to think about them and honor them - I count my lucky stars every moment that I am alive and I will continue to do so until there is no life left in me.

Here are the things that I am so very thankful for that it brings tears to my eyes:

- Joanne Price
- Taco Love
- My lovely, beautiful and kind best friends (you know who you are)
- My boyfriend, who somehow puts up with me through all my bullshit
- My Sister and the ridiculously smart, gorgeous, creative and talented nieces that she has gifted me with. They are the absolute lights of my life.
- My Grandpa and Grandma that I, unfortunately, do not get to see anymore but are always in my heart.
- My Dad, who I can't thank for much except his role in giving me life.  And for teaching me to not give a fuck. It's better than he left or else I wouldn't who I am now.
- All of the music that makes my heart drop and my skin bump. [SHOUT OUT TO HIP HOP]
- All of the writers that have touched my soul and over the years, molded me into an intelligent and sensitive human being (perhaps a bit cynical as well.)
- All of the good health and fortune that I have found over the years.
- My boss and my 2 coworkers who not only make work worth going to but make it one of my favorite places to be.  I've learned so much from them all and I hope to continue to.
- All 4 of the kitties that I've ever had, even though only 1 remains.

Now for some of the less sentimental but wonderfully delightful things that I am thankful for in this life:

- Marijuana
- Hello Kitty
- the Los Angeles Lakers
- the entire city of Los Angeles
- the entire state of Oregon
- Bud Light
- Whiskey
- FOOD [especially Mexican, burgers and sushi]
- tattoos and the wonderful artists I have met over the years
- my iPhone/iPad
- the beach, the oceans, the mountains, the rivers, lakes, trees, flowers and every natural piece of this earth that we are lucky to witness, let alone enjoy
- cute animal pictures/videos
- stuffed animals of all shapes and sizes
- shopping/clothing/shoes/UGG BOOTS (fuck you)
- Chanel
- Rob Zombie movies
- TV SHOWS!!!!!!!
- Jax from Sons of Anarchy

Who am I kidding? I could go on and on forever about the shit I love.  Just like I can about the shit I hate ;)

BE THANKFUL FOR EVERY MINUTE. GOOD AND BAD. AND ALWAYS REMEMBER TO TELL THE PEOPLE YOU LOVE, HOW MUCH YOU DO, EVERY CHANCE YOU GET. YOU NEVER, EVER KNOW WHEN YOU'LL NEVER BE ABLE TO AGAIN.  AND THAT THOUGHT ALONE, BREAKS HEARTS ALL OVER THE WORLD.

Fish Dicks

I had fish sticks for dinner tonight, which is absolutely uncharacteristic of me but I can't say that I'm mad at it.  I just can't ever think about fish sticks anymore without thinking about fish dicks.  Then I think about Gay Fish, which inevitably makes me think of Kanye West - who I never like to waste single moment thinking about.  Unless it's how much I hate him but even then, still a waste of time.

I don't know where I'm going with this.  I just wanted to write.  I find that time is going by so fast that I think I wrote just a day or two before when it ends up being more than week, or even two, three, four.  Who's counting? Obviously, I'm not.

I'm about to start reading this book that I bought online for one penny.  Yes, a penny.  The $2 shipping was actually more than the book itself, which apparently came from a Dallas library prior to 1992.  It's a book about the life of J. Edgar Hoover.  One of the many men in our US history that I dislike the most.  He was also a Gay Fish - who liked to dress in women's clothing but that's neither here nor there.  For as much as I dislike the man, I'm very excited to read about his life and find out how he came to be such a rotten little man. We'll see how it goes.

I wrote those 3 paragraphs last night.  Today, so far, I find to be incredibly annoying.  I'm going to make a list.

1. PMS is severe today and heavily affecting my attitude towards everything. I also have a headache.  Thanks for nothing ovaries.
2. I'm annoyed that there isn't one day that goes by at work where someone doesn't ask me about the Lakers. About the game the other night.  About the new coach.  About the old coach.  About almost getting Phil back.  About Kobe retiring.  About the new players.  About the old players.  I can't fucking stand it.  I know it's small talk and I know sometimes I enjoy the discussion but for the most part; no, I don't want to fucking talk about the Lakers every day.  Especially not about the same shit over and over.
3. With that being said, STILL pissed the Lakers lost to the Spurs on Tuesday.  STILL, pissed.
4.  It's almost gloomy enough outside to rain but it's not raining.  And I find that highly irritating.  Can't a girl get some rain around here?  Doesn't seem like it should be so hard to ask for.  You know, especially in November and all.  Fuck you solar cycle.
5. This one has been building for awhile but I'm really sick of people on Twitter thinking that I care about their opinion.  Twitter is a social network for people to say 140 character statements of their own opinion.  Just because you put it out there, does not mean that you care for a response.  What's worse is when someone's response is constantly a battle against your own.  [Regardless of the other 10 people who favorite it].  If you don't like what I have to say, then don't read my tweets.  Because it gets pretty annoying to always have to read about how my opinion is wrong.  Where I come from, opinions are not right or wrong.  Also where I come from, if you don't like something, fucking too bad.
6. The fact that it's not Friday yet.  I can't think of the last time a week went by this slow since, well, last week. I need it to be the weekend.

Anyway, to turn the tables and possibly my attitude towards this shit-tastic day so far - here are a few things I'm genuinely excited about!!!!!!

1. In exactly 1 month, I will have 3 weeks off of work - PAID.
2. In exactly 33 days, I get to see my doggy and finally feel like a real person again.  I'm also very excited for this next trip to Portland.  Not only because it's going to be Christmas time, not only because I'll be there for a few more days than normal but because my Mom and I are going to drive up to Port Townsend and finally scatter my grandparents ashes into the harbor.  My grandpa spent a lot of time up there during WWII and it was his favorite city in the US. I can't wait to see it.  After Port Townsend we are going to spend the night and next day in Seattle.  I haven't been since I was 19 so I'm pretty excited for that as well.  Space Needle, here I come.
3.  Found out yesterday, my boss is giving us a Thanksgiving bonus which will be on my paycheck that directly deposits into my bank account tonight.
4.  Speaking also of Thanksgiving, next week we have a half day on Wednesday and have Thursday and Friday off - PAID.  Makes your boss look like shit, huh?
5.  I'm probably going to have El Pollo Loco for dinner with the boyfriend.  Couldn't ask for much more than that.  And he mentioned taking me to Gyu-Kaku this weekend. Please please please *crosses fingers

See now, I might be a negative person but I sure do know how to come up with some positive shit sometimes.....

SOMETIMES.

Lately/Always

I've felt silent.
Muted.
Unmotivated.
Not nearly sedated enough to tap into the subconscious,
that screams at me all day.
I drown it out at work.
I have to focus.
There are so many things to say, to be written.
I find no comfort in speaking,
only writing. Only formulating.
There are times I wish I could fully disconnect,
from this life that causes me to be distracted.
To hustle and bustle around constantly,
instead of being able to stay in one place and ponder.
And wonder.
And alleviate my heavy mind.  To unload it all.
It's this perpetual cycle of eat, sleep, work, repeat.
It's this vicious cycle of keeping one from ones self,
and the thoughts and notions that come along with it.
I want to create by destroying what life truly exists of.
I want to recreate the things life was supposed to be made up of.
People have lost sense of what truly matters.
Of self awareness, of self progress.
At times, I lose sight of this too.
The bills take over, the payments take over, the cycle cycle cycle.
It is hard to be free,
just because there are no bars and no chains doesn't mean this isn't prison.

Sincere Thoughts from the 1st of November

Well shit, October went by really slow for me.  Which is so untypical compared to how fast the rest of this year has completely blown by.  It seems like it's always the 1st of the month.  Time for rent, bills, etc etc blah blah - but not this time.  I feel like my birthday was months ago, I feel like I've been 26 all my life.  I feel like I haven't seen my dog in decades and that this last week with hurricane Sandy has made time stop.  In some ways, it has made everything stop.  Slow motion.  Even before it was really Halloween, I felt like it had all already happened.

I can't stop looking at the pictures.  Every hour or so I refresh my news website to see which ones have been added.  Every time, I have to stop the tears from flowing down my face.  I know that it has not been as devastating as Katrina was, I know that was much worse - many more lives were lost, very impoverished people were left with absolutely nothing.  Yet, Sandy single-handedly shut down one of the most powerful and beautiful cities in the entire world, New York City.  A city that has always and will always lay very deeply in my heart.  There is nothing quite like the feeling you get when you arrive in that city.  There is this feeling of absolute empowerment and perfection -- and the pictures of the damage make my soul cringe in pain.

Maybe if it weren't for 9/11, I wouldn't feel so strongly about this.  Every part of me knows that everyone and everything in New York will bounce back, they always do - which is why the people of NY are so rough and tough and not to be fucked with.  Which goes to say for most of the human race - we always bounce back.  We always drag ourselves off the floor and rise up, almost better than ever.  But in the meantime, my heart will continue to ache.  Not just for them, not just for New York but for the entire Eastern Coast.

So many homes.  So many lives and animals lost.  So many memories torn apart by the most dynamic and powerful of elements on this planet - water and wind.  Even fire made it's appearance, it couldn't be shown up by its friends of destruction yet beauty.  Just another reminder of how small we all are, how unimportant in the big scheme of things.  We are simply organisms on this wondrous ball of elements that navigates around the sun - and nature rules all.  Just another reminder that at any time, we could all be gone.  Stardust.

Just another reminder to appreciate everything, every moment, every person in your life.  Never go to sleep mad, never hold grudges, never not say what you want to say, never hold back.  Not that you would be able to regret things once you do not exist but who knows how the heart feels in those last minutes of life, except those that have passed through.

As much as I speak about hating humans, it is in these times of suffering that strength and love truly comes to the surface.  It's unfortunate that it takes a tragedy to have people treat each other the way they always should.  With empathy, understanding and the genuine desire to help and support.  To stop thinking about themselves and run into a flooding house and save the family inside -- even if you don't get out alive.

My dear planet Earth, I cannot believe your power.

FUCK A BULLY

So, nowadays, all I see in the media is shit about kids killing themselves due to bullying.  I don't know if the world has gotten worse or if kids have just gotten more... for lack of a better word.. pussy-ish?

I know that the media and the fucked up way that society has turned out has a huge effect on children these days.  But I can't go one fucking day without hearing about some 15 year old plunging to their death because of people bullying them.  I honestly don't know where to point my finger at first but I definitely have a good list of ideas where the problems lies.

Firstly, it's the parenting at home.  Every child should be taught from a young age that they are absolutely wonderful they way they are.  Yeah, they might have a few things they need to work on - a few flaws here and there.  A few things they need to grow out of or work on.  No one is perfect and no child should be brought up thinking they are.  However, they should be instilled with the greatest amount of self esteem possible.

My Mom, no matter what I did, no matter how horrible I could be - she always cherished me for being an individual with my own mind set, my own ideals and my own goals.  She never pushed me to be anything I wasn't and she accepted me for who I am.  My Father, well, he doesn't fucking matter in this equation.   But if he taught me anything in the 10 years he stuck around - it was to be myself and to express myself the way I feel most comfortable and to FUCK what other people thought of me.  Wear what I want, be who I want, do what I want and fuck the rest.  Even my Mother, who does somewhat care what people think always told me to just be happy with myself.  As long as you can love who you are and understand that no one knows who you really are except yourself, you're going to be okay.

It makes me utterly sick to my stomach to know think that this type of parenting isn't going on these days.  Some parents push these awful expectations on their children, "be this" "do this" "become this" - how dare you?  You don't have children for them to become extensions of what you want them to be - you have children to let them grow and be who they end up being.  If you can't handle that notion, you should not have children you selfish piece of rotten shit.

Anyway, self esteem should primarily come from home.  If it doesn't come from home, you need to find it within yourself.  I have to admit here that ever since I can remember, I never have even given one shit of what people think of me.  When I was 10 years old, I was friends with the "popular" girls at my elementary school.  One day, during lunch, they were talking about the dumbest bullshit ever and I got the fuck up, picked up my food tray and I moved to the table where one of my best friends sat - I had known her since I was 4 years old and she is still to this day, one of the most beautiful and amazing women that I know.  Everyone in that popular group criticized me.  It's like, they couldn't fucking wrap their heads around the fact that I didn't give a shit about their shallowness and retarded discussions.  Even at 10 years old.  I've known a lot about life from a young age and I can only credit my Mother, who, always told me the truth about life.  Who never sheltered me from it's stormy weather.  She let me watch what I wanted, listen to what I wanted, go where I wanted and you know what - I never rebelled, I never became a bad child - I always respected her respect for me and my independence as a human being and I never took advantage of that.

Looking back, it was about 7th grade that I found hip hop.  These harsh words that had such power to me.  Even back then, when I first heard "It's So Hard" by Big Pun, I was in hip hop dance class and the words "all you haters, just walk on by" stuck with me.  I realized AGAIN then that I didn't give a shit what people thought of me.  If you didn't like me, then fuck you.  If you liked me or understood me on any level, then I liked you - no matter who you were, what group you hung out in, no matter who you were associated with.  If I had a connection with someone, that's all that mattered to me.  I don't connect to many - I mostly disassociate myself with humans as much as possible.  But when I do, I love them with all my heart.  It was hip hop that taught me to be thick-skinned, to be rough and tough but loving and passionate.  That's the problem with a lot of kids these days, they listen to this pussy sad bullshit that makes you want to slit your wrists.  Don't listen to sad shit.  No one wants to be sad.  Empower yourself, educate yourself and know your self worth.  No one's words are worth your life.

There was this one girl that made fun of me in middle school.  I'll call her out.  She's the ONLY person that ever made fun of me outside of just poking fun.  Her name is Rachelle.  And she was brunette and fat as fuck.  She used to make fun of me because I had blonde hair - in 7th grade.  Every single day, she would taunt me with her words about how blondes were stupid and that I was stupid.  Deep down, I knew she just hated herself.  One day, when she was making fun of me, I bluntly said to her "WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM BITCH?" And I never cussed at this point yet.  I hadn't found myself or my inner voice yet.  I looked her deep into her awful eyes and I asked her again "what the fuck is your problem bitch?" And she had no answer for me.  After her moment of silence, I told her "Okay then, leave me the fuck alone.".  She never talked to me again.  All throughout high school, never said one word.

That was the last time I was ever bullied.  I get along with everyone if I need to.  But if you're going to fuck with me, I'm going to verbally attack the shit out of you.  These kids these days need to realize that nothing that anyone says matters.  People who have nothing nice to say are miserable pieces of shit.  Raise your head, keep your chin up and be yourself.  AND LISTEN TO HIP HOP.  Listen to music that empowers your soul and makes you believe in yourself and your power in this world.  Be positive and do not let those that feel so negatively about themselves ever bring you down.

I'll say it until the day that I die... find the things you love about yourself and put your middle fucking finger up to those who try and tear you down in ANY way.  If you don't like me, get the fuck out of my life.

...Or punch them in the fucking face and turn the bullying around.  Then stomp on their face and kick the shit out of their ribcage until they bleed to death.  Then look them in the eye and tell them make fun of you one more time.  ;)

ME FOR PRESIDENT

I am hating life right now with all this election stuff.  All politicians are such liars, I can't even handle it.  Pointing their finger at me as they talk.  I wish I could just cut their hands off and shove them in their dirty mouths.

Back to the topic at hand here. 

Not that I would EVER want to take on this piece of shit country (although I LOVE this piece of shit country) but I find it hilarious to come up with a list of things I would do if I became president.  Not that you care but here it is:

1.  Annex Florida.  If I could take a big ass chainsaw and just saw the shit out of the top of Florida, I would.  Then I would take my foot and kick it slowly into the gulf and watch it - and all of it's IDIOT residences, float off to...wherever the fuck they would end up.  Hopefully hell.  Or like, bump into Cuba and destroy both places.  That would be epic.  Fuck Florida.

2.  Make Medicinal marijuana legal.  Duh.  Well, all marijuana for that matter.  I'm a god damn adult, I should be able to do what I want.  Get out of the 1940s propaganda that some stupid motherfuckers seem to be stuck in.

3.  Hell, make all drugs legal.  Tax that shit.  Bye bye drug cartels and the violence going along with it. If you want to poison you yourself, kill yourself, numb yourself - by all means, go for it.  But if you get caught driving while under the influence - I'd make it legal for the cops to take your drivers license away. Don't need to kill anyone else while you're all doped up on whatever your choice drug is.  One strike.

4.  Make it illegal to discriminate anyone for any reason.  Gender, race, status, sexual preference, religious beliefs and especially, TATTOOS/PIERCINGS.  No one should be able to look at someone and make judgements that could be true or false. Fuck anyone who doesn't think that someone with tattoos can't be professional or that it changes any aspect of their brain, worth ethic or skills.  Seriously, there are plenty of CEO's who hide their shit under their Armani suits.  Let people be who the fuck they want to be.

5. Gay marriage? Fuck yes.

6. Abortions? Fuck yes.  As long as it is within the first trimester.  Planned Parenthood?  Fuck yes, I'd give money out of my own pocket to that organization.  How dare any man believe it is right to cut funding to such an amazing program for our youth.

7. Stem-cell research?  Fuck yes.  Save millions of lives.  Put religious beliefs aside.  If the baby is getting aborted, might as well let it help someone else live.  Where are your good hearts?  Bad shit happens, make some fucking lemonade out of it.

8.  War.  Fuck it.  I don't know enough.  We need weapons and we need military.  I'd hire someone to handle that shit.  If it were up to me, I'd bomb the shit out of everyone because I fucking hate humans. Which is clearly why I would need a consultant/therapist in this area.

9.  Close down the Federal Reserve.  FUCK THAT SHIT IN THE ASS.

10.  Change the legal driving age to 18.  16 year olds are fucking idiots and should not be able to drive. Especially this upcoming generation.  Go dick ride Lil Wayne over to your friends house you piece of stupid shit.

11.  An eye for an eye.  You murder someone in cold blood? You die the same way you killed them.  You rape someone? You fucking get raped by a raping machine that I will design.  You cut off someone's limbs and leave them for dead?  Guess what?  You get your shit cut off.  If you are a sick human being, you deserve no life, no breath, no love, nothing.  TREAT OTHERS AS YOU WISH TO BE TREATED.  If you want to murder someone, fucking go for it -- but that means you die, motherfucker.  Fuck jails.  Don't get me started on jails.  You kill someone and get off with 15 years.  You get caught with drugs a few times and spend more time in jail? I don't fucking think so.

12. Fire all supreme court judges.  Old ass motherfuckers ain't running my justice system.

13. You're rich? GUESS WHAT?! You pay more taxes. I don't give a fuck who you are.

14.  Last but not least, find a way to bring JFK and RFK back to life, Franken-style.  Let them do what they should have been able to do centuries ago when this country fell apart for the last time and has never, ever, ever been restored.

I MIGHT BE IRRATIONAL BUT AT LEAST I HAVE SOME GUTS. I MIGHT NOT HAVE BALLS BUT I HAVE OVARIES AND THOSE ARE WAY MORE SCARY AND BADASS.

I'M OBVIOUSLY THE BEST FOR THE JOB.

APATHY

I've been feeling really unmotivated lately.  Unmotivated to do anything of any purpose.  I haven't read, I haven't communicated, I haven't written.  I find life and surroundings so exhausting, so draining and so detrimental.  I try and keep my eyes open to what's going on around me but when I get a good grasp of the matters of this world, all I want to do is close my eyes again.  I want to nod off and fall asleep to a place where I'm not in control but my dearly beloved subconscious can reign over the illusions I ride through until awakening.

I wouldn't even have a name of the place that I feel I am at.  Limbo would be too vague, too simple - maybe even a cop out.  I wish that I could exist in this world somewhere between what reality is and what I wish it could be.  I dare not call it expectations because expectations are frivolous and stupid.  In fact, I find expectations to be the work of insanity.  How dare you expect anything in this constantly chaotic world.  So foolish.  This place I am in, it is a precarious balance that I dance in - between never wanting to be informed of anything and constantly needing to be informed of what is going on/how I'm feeling/how others are feeling, etc.

I've stopped pondering things, I've stopped speculating.  Just for now.  And my nails are making it really hard to type lately, which makes it hard to surface my thoughts onto these blank pages.  But I refuse to get rid of them.

I'm mostly waiting for this god damn election to be over.  I can't even explain how much I hate politics, everything and everyone that has anything to do with it.  I've never heard so many lies in my life.  I wanted to slam Biden and Ryan's heads together tonight - just crush their skulls into a bloody pulp.

I'm disjointed because I never get to focus.  I'm constantly going going going - doing doing doing.  I wish I could get paid to write instead of get paid to write emails to people trying to sell their business, trying to buy a business, asking stupid questions, being fucking stupid.  I wish that I could sit at home all day with my pills and my alcohol and my weed and just create the thoughts that run through my mind into artistic displays of insanity and perfection.  Blogging is lame.

A Confession of Nothing Secret - Just Truth

It has taken me days to feel the ability to publish this.  It's not for anyone but me.  But it was scary to go back and face.  I'm not this person that I write about but I'm lucky that at one time, I was. Despite the actions and details - - -

I'm just remembering as I watch this Breaking Bad... about my youth.  My stupid but fucking fucked up fun youth.  Let's say adolescence.

I did my first line of coke off the drop down glove box of my 1989 Blazer in 11th grade.  I didn't think it was that great.  I remember I was wearing red lipstick and fake eyelashes.  Eventually, I did many/many/many lines of it and I still hated it.  Mostly always in a car - in a secluded corner with tinted windows.  Shit makes me sleepy and I hate it.  Haven't touched it since 2008.  Stuffy nose, boring shit.

I did my first line of speed off of my pink skull n'cross bones metal cigarette holder that I used as a wallet, quite conveniently [for this random/unexpected occasion] in the newly developed girls bathroom at Costa.  That one add on, that was next to the football field where the trailers used to be.  Also 11th grade.  Ironically, I was with one of my friends from preschool.  We had reacquainted ourselves during our office helper period.  I don't even know what that shit was called.  But I got to run notes to get people out of class, or tell them that they were in trouble at the office.  But I mostly fucked around and doodled in this black notebook that everyone always wanted to look at - but I never let them.  Well, some people got to see it.

During lunch, I tried to not want to talk to everyone and anyone about whatever the fuck I could think of.  I kept saying "shut the fuck up" to myself but I couldn't.  I talked and talked and talked.  Which was the most retarded thing I could have done, but I didn't know that yet.  That line lasted 2 days.  I wrote my best Government paper on that shit.  Marx gave me an A+.  That man was the best thing ever at Costa.  I ran into him years later when I worked at Sloopy's.  He didn't remember me until I told him that I was the one that wrote him the letter about how he was the only teacher I really ever learned anything from and that I hoped parents stopped giving him shit for being hard on students - for actually making them think.

Sidtracked.  Speed.  I loved it so much, I stayed away from it for 3 years.

Then, we reunited -- unintentionally.

I tell myself that I wouldn't have done it if I was around my Mom at the time.  I know that part is true.  She was 1,000 miles away and I was 20 years old.  The stress of living on my own and paying all my own bills caught up with me.  Promotions at work, 5am wake up times, 11 hour days.  I started making excuses for using.  It started all so innocently.

And then the dark shadow happened.  A drug dealer moved in.  From there, it was beyond my control. Then it was in my control but I didn't care.  I wanted it.  And as much as I hated all of it - especially myself - I also never wanted it to end.  But deep down, even from the beginning, I knew it had to end.  I would never have let myself hit the bottom.  I always have known I was worth more than that.  I would stop eventually, I always told myself that.  I know I would.  And fucking right I was.  Just not yet.  Just not then.  That's when my method changed.  I won't go into it.

During this time, I decided I wanted a dog.  I had to have a dog. I knew that I needed something to make me look outside of my morbidly dark and retarded existence and make me want to live again.  Not live as in I ever wanted to really die but live as in have something other than myself to live for.  Everyone told me I shouldn't get a dog.  Everyone told me my druggy ass wouldn't be able to take care of anything - I wasn't even taking care of myself.

But I searched high and low for the dog that ended up being mine.  I searched online, I searched the PennySaver, I searched at pound after pound after pound.  I almost got a baby pitbull, the sweetest little girl but she was going to end up too big.  I wanted something small but not too small.  I knew it's name would be Taco.  Boy or girl, it didn't matter.  I didn't fucking care.  I just wanted it.  I knew it would save me.

One day, I almost gave up.  I said I had to check one more pound, the furthest one.  North Los Angeles.  405 to the 10 to the 110 to the 101.  It took forever to get there, I was so anxious - so many cigarettes.  I just kept hearing this voice in my head.  It may have been from no sleep, it may have been real.  Either way, it was happening and I listened to it.

I arrived at the North LA pound.  I had no idea where I was.  Walked through the door, searched the whole outside lot of dogs.  Nothing. Nothing.  Nothing.  Not the one.  I started my sad and depressing walk through the hallway to the exit.....

And in a small glass box, in a secluded room off of a big long white hallway, I saw this little brown dog with a black nose.  It was laying in the corner of the box with this ugly poodle jumping all around it.  It looked miserable and I asked if I could hold it.  It, ended up being a little girl.  A Welsh-Corgi mix.  "Mixed with what?" They weren't sure.  My little baby girl. I held her for 10 seconds and she put her paw on my shoulder and looked me in the face.  She didn't look miserable anymore.  And I stopped being miserable at that same moment.

"I'll take her".
"That will be $72 dollars.  You can pick her up tomorrow after we've sent her to the vet to be fixed"

It was the best $72 dollars I've ever spent.  And it was the longest 24 hours that I've ever experienced.  Picking her up from the vet that next day was like picking up my soul from the floor.  It was like refilling my heart with the blood and desire to put myself back together.

I've never been happier than that ride home.  With her sitting in my lap.

Unfortunately, I was unable to quit right away.  My relationship with those nice icey crystals lasted almost a year (yet only 4 months after getting Taco).  Until Thanksgiving.  My boyfriends (EX now) parents had cooked an amazing dinner and I had spent the entire day using.  I wanted to eat their food so bad but no cell in my body would allow it.  I realized that I needed it to end.  I didn't want it to but I knew it had to - our run was over.

I told Taco that night that she would never have to stay up late with me, watching me write endless poems and stories with all the lights on and no intention of sleep.  I told Taco we would only cuddle and watch movies and Mom would only smoke weed and take her for long walks.  Drives to the beach.  Trips to the dog park and toys galore.

That's when I all ended.  Cold turkey.  JUST FOR HER.

So when people tell me that I'm obsessed with my dog.  That my dog seems to be the only important thing to me.  They are right.  She entered my life at a time that I needed something to remove myself from myself.  She saved me from myself.  She allowed me to become a responsible human.  She did it all without talking or words or scolding.  She rescued me more than I ever rescued her.

Everything I do is for her.  Even from far away.  And I don't even care that she is temporary.  Because, just like everything else - she will only last for as long as she does.  But that doesn't mean she can't be my reason to live.

Among many others.  But Taco, she is the one that saved me.  I owe her my life.  And I'm no longer ashamed of the entire journey that led me to her.  A completely unseen, unimaginable, uncharacteristic journey that had I had not - I would not have my heart.

I wouldn't change a thing.

Livejournal 2007

I found this today.  I wrote it in November of 2007 at 2:10am.  I don't even really know how I feel about it, except that I was someone much different then...but yet, not at all:

"Who even knows where it all started. Where the flame to continue the light and obscure desire for constant movement started. There has always been a fear of static inside, a slow and painful drip of never being susceptible to the contentment of any slight, insipid aspect of existence. The towering waves of magnetism, always pulling, prying, twisting, making it virtually impossible to settle inside of my own skin - my own blood, boiling at the thought of any definitions to - what I have found - such a wonderfully indestructible "gray-area" that is often ignored. Such audacity to believe that terms of human complication can possibly fall under categories of black and white, right and wrong, good and evil, goals and failure, responsibilities and apathy - strategically placed by those who no longer breathe.

Without the awareness that the mind is nothing that has ever been set in stone - varying with the individual. Yet, the questioning of this apparent "normal" continues to remain in dark places, with no lights, and a downwards look from the society that believes being born means being accepting. To listen, to understand, to over-see and analyze the lies is nothing but giving in [and up] before I have seen enough of this life to decide all these decisions based upon my findings, treasures, storms and massacres - defined by me and not by Webster.

As it seems, very little people often understand, utilize or appreciate the biggest gift that any will ever receive while breathing. Which is the emptiness, the dark holes, blank canvases - the unwritten pages, the undetermined words, the energy and possibilities of the moments that we are blessed [and cursed] with. What is this gift? It is...nothing.  

Nothing, which happens to "be" a vague and empowering [or devastating] word, is simply the gift that someone created for the humans who found themselves developing along with a world that never intended for us to survive. This Nothing is Everything. It is the ultimate tool to become, fully.

Which always boils down to the same question that I continue to ask myself - time after time. With the delicate coils of the brain, with the astonishing importance of synapse timing and accuracy - how can anything, anything at all, ever mean the same to every person. There are people who see Red when the object is Blue. Someone, somewhere, took this - defined it - scientifically proved it. However, what if this person who has been deemed color blind, actually believes their eyes. That, since birth, Red has always been Blue to them - they like the ocean being a majestic red and the sky seems much rosier with this light-pink tint that they have accustomed with daily weather and not just the oohs and ahhs of each sunset. What of the people who find filth, morbidity, and disgust as actual objects of incomparable beauty?

Why was it ever necessary to find a "medium" for all individuals to abide by and expected to understand? Is it not the differences in each person we meet, that draws us to them? The desire to learn, grow, and obtain other ideas, knowledge and opinion that may be far-fielded from our own but are just as reasonable?

It is those, and will always be, those people - the ones who do not shadow the rest but only slightly gleam with a different hue of color - who will stretch the rules, defy and question. Not to rebel - but to only be, as they wish. The smallest prick can cause a fury of blood. Fear is to always be acknowledged - but the courage to overlook this fear, will never create anything except an extended innocence. And it is this innocence, this lack of impurity, that will keep hearts from ever thinking that anything is possible. To once accept the possibility of failure is to tell a child that Neverland does not exist. Beginning the downfall of imagination and the emphasis on uncovering the dreams that  should be nothing separate from reality.

 --- I guess, in all of this 3 hours of sleep in 2 days, in all the wanderings that I have found my mind lost in, in the inconsolable realizations of watching myself sink into an unsettling settlement of apathy --- I have concluded....

That I am not afraid of any moments ahead, beyond, or seemingly far away. But that I will only create my own world....

And from reading the life of Chanel, it has made me question the importance of lies and truth. Lies are linked with wrong, with deceit, with hurt. But to me, lies can be apart of a person's world. How they want it. By chance, could it be these imperfections, these re-arrangements, that bring people into the very essence of their dreams - stretching and contorting the stars into your very own constellation.

To brand this world, the only impact worth making is that upon yourself, and those that will smile at your spirit as they see it pass them from time to time. The only impression worth making will be the way that you describe your wrinkles, scars, and wisdom. The only life worth making is the one.......of your own.  

5 Days

Until I am 26 years old.
Damn man, time sure flies.
And then again,
youth seems so very long ago.

I am working on something.  It's some what of a writing piece that has 4 parts to it.  It may seem silly but I do not want to save and publish it until it is absolutely perfect.  I should be done with part 1 soon.  But I never get any time to work on these things.

Work, work, work, eat, run errands, exercise, eat, shower, drink beer.  It isn't until I truly relax at night that I can work on the creative neurons pulsing through my brain.  By then, I'm tired.  By then, I want to want dramatic TV shows about real life things that are amplified by fiction.

I can't wait to get it finished though.  I'm proud of myself for the honesty in it. And for the heart of the subject matter.

Sometime soon.  Very soon.
For now, it remains unfinished.  Just like everything else I've ever started.

1947

I think it's interesting that people don't seem to think about the fact that a lot of significant things happened in 1947.  Which is not why I have 1947 tattooed on my knuckles.  I have that tattooed because my amazing Mother was born that year and to me, it was the start of my life.  When she was born, I was manifested but not yet created.

That aside - I find it interesting that 1947 marks not only the UFO crash in Roswell, NM.  But it also marks the beginning of the CIA.  Coincidence? I think not.

1947 was one of the most important years in history, for many reasons.  Especially because WWII was over by then.  And the whole world was changed and had seen things it never thought it would.

There is this part of me that hopes that my Mother came from an alien that crashed in New Mexico in 1947.  That would explain why I feel so alien.  That would explain why I hate humanity so very fucking much and it would explain why I've never felt at home here.

But that's just me being crazy and hopeful that I am not related to this race of judgmental, resentful, greedy assholes that call this planet their home.  Even though I know I am.  Because I myself can be pretty fucking shitty too.  Shit, no one is perfect.

Fuck, if I was an alien and I ended up visiting Earth.  I would take one quick look around and then I'd get the fuck out of here so quick, there's not even a word for how quick.  Then I would lie to my alien friends that I never found this disgusting place.  Not the actual Earth itself.  That is a very beautiful thing - I'm talking about the filth that we dare call humans.  The mold of this world.  The viral bacteria that is destroying everything slowly. 

Time to watch Prometheus.  If I would have Engineered us,  I would have wanted to kill us all also.  

FINALLY

I was watching the news last night when I was totally surprised to actually hear some fucking news about the James Holmes case.  Like, about damn time, right?  I get the gag order and all that but jesus christ, no one has said a word about this shit on the news for months.

Of course, they had to release his new mug shot.  The one that makes him look even more insane.  Dude is not a looker, that's for sure. I can only imagine how shitty I'd look if I was being kept under 23 hour solitude confinement and like...whatever issues he has. 

The thing I thought was interesting is the fact that if, in his defense, he "pleads insanity", they will be able to break the patient/doctor confidentially that will disclose information that wouldn't normally be provided. Kinda Catch-22ish to me.  The prosecution will jump all over that.

Regardless of if this dude is gnarballs nuts or if he is a casualty to something much larger...he is one freaky looking motherfucker.  But, he didn't always seem that way, if you watch his old 2006 video presentations. If he did kill those people tho, I hope his fucking soul is ripped into pieces.

YouTube Debut!

So, during my recent trip to Universal Studios - my boyfriend randomly filmed things. 

Some of it is me being a big, cranky, hot (temperature wise) bitch but...I still find myself pretty charming.  The last half of it is mostly the studio tour ride but whatever.  It's pretty cool.

At least I think so.  My friends Anthony and Rosanna also appear a few times.  Along with a lot of fat, annoying tourists and even more annoying small children who don't know how to walk correctly. 

There should be a rule that no one can bring a baby to any theme park.  If it needs a stroller, it needs to GTFO.

If you want to watch me in all my glory:

UNIVERSAL STUDIOS!!!!!!!!!!!

I'M YELLING IN MY HEAD

SOMETIMES I JUST DO NOT WANT ANYONE TO TALK TO ME. SOMETIMES I REALLY JUST DO NOT GIVE A SHIT ABOUT WHAT ANYONE COULD POSSIBLY HAVE TO SAY OR THINK IS IMPORTANT ENOUGH TO SAY. 

ESPECIALLY WHEN I AM AT WORK. I HATE SOME OF THESE RETARDS I HAVE TO DEAL WITH EVERY DAY. THESE OLD PEOPLE WHO MUMBLE AND DRAG ON THEIR SENTENCES AND THINK THEY KNOW WHAT THEY ARE TALKING ABOUT WHEN THEY DON'T.

THE WORST PART ABOUT BITCHY DAYS IS WHEN I HAVE TO ANSWER THE PHONE AND PRETEND LIKE I DON'T WANT TO REACH THROUGH THE PHONE AND RIP THE
PERSONS FACE OFF.  

REMEMBER FACE/OFF.  GOOD MOVIE. I HATE NICHOLAS CAGE THO. FUCK THAT GUY, HE'S THE WORST.

HI PMS,
IT'S BEEN A MONTH. SO FUCKING NICE TO SEE YOU AGAIN YOU STUPID ASSHOLE. TODAY IS ALL YOUR FAULT.

SOMEONE NEEDS TO TAKE THEIR CHILL PILL. 

Update Update Hear All About It

My nails are ghetto long again, so I feel more complete.  In their absence, my fingers felt like little nubs.  Like someone had cut half my finger off - carny folk little hands.  Those freak me out.

I'm reading Dante's Inferno again. It's been quite awhile so I'm excited about it.  Hell, which probably doesn't exist at all - is still more interesting to me than heaven could ever be.  Talk about boring...

I'm obviously still going through PTSD.  Post Taco Stress Disorder.  It's a real illness, I get it every time I'm not with her.  But I'll be keeping my head up, get my shit straight and keep barreling through like I always do.

It's nice to see the ocean outside again.  Welcomed by the palm trees and sand.  Flying back into LAX, the smog is always the strongest.  When you're in it and on the ground, you forget how hazy it truly is - just like most people in this city.

Back to the typical routine. Trying to make that money and take care of business while trying not to buy things I absolutely don't need but fucking want anyway.

I want to bleach my hair again.  Now that I have it this blonde, I want it more.  Then, when I was at my Mom's house, I found some awesome pictures of me with black hair.  Then I remembered how much more normal I feel with it.  It's been so long.  I feel like it will make me happy to do it.  But I know I won't.  Everyone would say not to.

"She dyed her hair black, maybe now she can relax - maybe the regulars will stare half as hard."

I missed Atmosphere while they were in Portland this last Sunday.  I knew I would because honestly, I'd still rather spend time with my dog than see my favorite artists ever.  I got it bad for that canine.  I was secretly hoping I would see Sean somewhere.  Eating with his family at a food spot, walking down the street with his son.  I'd want to be gay and ask him for a picture but I know I wouldn't at the same time.

I'm excited to sleep in this weekend.

I'm kind of excited for my birthday, but mostly not.  Birthdays are kind of whatever.  Yay, I was born! The years go by too fast now.  I wish I could control it. Time is a concept though, I often wonder if I could control it.  26 is closer to 30 than to 20.  Life is crazy.

Life is beautiful.  Especially with a cold beer.

Oh!  I got to smoke weed again too. AFTER 5 DAYS!

Depressed

By 6am on Monday, I am going to have to be without my dog again.

I already feel the angst and depression kicking in.  I hate life without her.

Everything is so much more beautiful with her around.  She makes me focus on things outside myself.  She completes me. 

Every time I leave, a part of me breaks. 

I didn't think I'd ever become so broken.

I can't think of a title, so FUCK IT.

I HAVEN'T SMOKED WEED IN OVER 60 HOURS.

Not by choice.  Mostly out of pure laziness to go through the trouble to get weed while I'm here in Portland. However, I must say that I'm pretty proud of myself for getting through this dry and foreign time -- almost effortlessly.  That is a weird word to type, effortlessly.   I'll admit it, since the end of 2007, I have smoked weed at LEAST 1 time a day, every, single, day.  Not because I need to but because I choose to.  CHOOOOOOOOSE to. 

So GO ME! I'm patting myself on the back.

I'd like to thank my good friends Bud Light and Xanax for helping me out at night tho.  Probably couldn't have done it without them.  So, GO ME! But... take a little credit away?  Whatever.  DGAF.

I've decided a few things in the past couple of days. 

1. I'm going to write a book.  This won't happen quickly but I'm going to create the most awesome book you'll ever read.  It is going to be a semi-autobiographical (I'm lying because it will all be autobiographical but I'm going to pretend like it's not so I don't look like a huge piece of shit) collection of things that you should know in order to survive your late teens-early 20s without...well being a huge piece of shit.  I'd like to think I've come pretty far since my early 20s and I'd like to share that knowledge with the other cynical assholes of the world.  You'll see - it's going to be pretty radical.  DOUBLE MEANING. 

2. I need to man up and make the changes that I need in my life.  I need to focus, project, and create my future into exactly what I want it to be.  I have to envision what I want to the point where there's no possible way that I can't get it.  This is called creative visualization and hippie-ass shit or not, I'm going to do it. 

3.  I have the most awesome Mom and dog/daughter in the entire world.  I need to stop focusing on the fact that I can't always be with them and remember that I'm just lucky in the first place to have them, to know them, to have learned from them and that no matter what, they are the biggest part of my heart and I do everything I do -- to make them proud.  I need to remember that sometimes being away from the things that you love is what brings you closest to them and that all suffering and sacrifice eventually leads to the brightest light at the end of the tunnel. 

4. Blue Valentine - the movie, is sad and depressing and I don't ever want to see it again.  Michelle Williams played a fucked up/stupid/crazy bitch and Ryan Gosling played a man who not only took care of another man's child as his own but had the humor and ethic to love her with all his heart, even if it wasn't good enough for her.  If you liked Michelle William's character in this movie, I fucking hate you and I hope you realize that just because you're a fucked up/stupid/crazy bitch doesn't mean that you get to ruin other people's lives.  So many parts of the movie were precious but as a whole, fuck that movie and fuck whoever wrote it.  And FUCK anyone who is like that in real life because they deserve no happiness at all.

THAT'S IT. I'M OUT. SONS OF ANARCHY...HERE I COME.

Home (Portland)

Let me just say - Virgin Airlines is the only airline that I ever want to fly.  Like, ever again in life.  When you first walk onto the plane, or at least during their evening flights, there are purple lights everywhere.  Almost black-light-esque.  They are in the entrance and all along the tops of the overhead compartments.  I felt like I walked onto a fucking party plane or some Vegas status VIP plane shit.  I was expecting lots of red, considering that seems to be Virgin's overall color scheme.  I'm glad I was wrong. 

The seats were more comfortable and there was no one sitting between me (window seat, duh) and the weird Portland woman in the aisle seat, so I was able to sit cross legged which instantly made me about 100x happier.  The TV system they have puts JetBlue to shame.  I mean, bitches have a god damn remote control that comes out of the arm rest and you use it to control the touch screen TV like 5 inches away from your face.  Now, that's what I call LUXURY.  They have options for On Demand movies but I didn't feel like paying $3-$8, even though that's a pretty good deal -- but who needs movies when you have DirectTV at your disposal? Not me. 

Looked to my right, watched the sunset over the clouds, saw Reno light up with it's prostitute and drug addled night life.  These are the things I live for.  Then there was darkness.  I kept thinking of the Twilight Zone episode with the monster on the wing of the plane.  I was in 11F.  Window seat - right next to the wing.  I wished for monsters but received none.   

1 Diet Coke, 1 Xanax, 2 episodes of South Park, 1 episode of The Daily Show and 1 episode of The Colbert Report and BOOM - I was already descending down to Portland.  Now that's how a motherfucker should fly.

When I saw the blinking red lights of the pointy Marquam Hill towers, my heart kickstarted.  I might be a Los Angeles girl who loves the extravagant grit and grime of the city and all the people that I love there -- deeply LOVE -- but years ago, Portland and it's fucking trees I tried to hate for so long and rain that causes seasonal annual depression stole my heart and put it high up in the cloudy atmosphere, never to come down again. 

And then there's Taco.  But truly, I suppose that HOME is wherever she is.  She holds her heart in my heart - just like the over-circulated e.e. cummings poem.  Yet, I haven't had a concept of HOME since I left mine, in 2005 to be a crazy 18 year old on my own, thinking that life was going to be easy.  Thomas Wolfe was right -- You Can Never Go Home Again.  All you can do is create other ones along the way.  Portland is one of my many homes and no matter what, it always will be. 

I was created in Salt Lake City.
I was raised by Los Angeles.
I was refined by Portland. 

There are bits and pieces of me that yearn for LA again already -  to walk out of my house and see the ocean staring back at me.  To fall asleep next to the person who loves me with all their heart.  To wake up and go to my job that rules harder than anything I could have ever imagined.  BUT -- for the next couple of days, I am going to soak up every minute of doggy time, kitty time and Mommy time that I can.  Because I know, that the moment that I leave - my heart will empty again... like the tide coming and going.  Portland embraces me and wraps its arms around me and completes me in a way that is incomparable to anything.  Oregon is truly the most beautiful place my eyes have ever set sight on.  To fall asleep here tonight puts my mind at ease. 

It's like a long lost lullaby of my early twenties.  This city taught me how to be a human being. 
I am forever in debt.

Please Dial 911 for BULLSHIT

 THERE'S NO WAY I CAN EXPLAIN THIS AS CLEARLY AS I WANT TO. WHICH SUCKS.

If it were up to me, I could write an entire book about my thoughts, feelings and beliefs for what really happened on September 11, 2001.  I remember being in my zero period 10th grade social studies class.  I was wearing a jean skirt and a Jr. Lifeguards sweatshirt that belonged to Lindsay Burton.  I never did that summertime beach shit.  I remember seeing the 2nd plane hit the building.  I remember watching slowly as each building "fell" to the ground.  Even at 15 years old, I knew that there was absolutely no truth to anything that my government was telling me.  And for the very first time, I lost every single ounce of faith that I had in the people that run this country.  Every, last, drop.

In my denial of what really happened, I never mean to disregard the many innocent lives that were lost that day.  In fact, my search for TRUTH has been because of them.  Because of those people who jumped from those buildings.  Because of those people who lost family members, loved ones and people they never even met yet -- but should have.  I have spent the last 11 years looking into what happened, looking outside of what the media has FORCED down my throat.  You can call it a conspiracy, I really don't give a fuck what you call it.  I call it my government lying to my face despite the remarkable amount of evidence that clearly disproves almost everything they have told us.

If you do believe the events of 9/11 happened as you have been told then I not only feel absolutely sorry for your pathetic, naive, stupid brain -- but I also feel sad that you do not care enough to question the things that are told to you and try and uncover the truth of what happened to those people 11 years ago.  If you do believe it, go fly your magical unicorn over a fucking rainbow and get the fuck away from me.  9/11 goes back to 1997 and it is the biggest case of insurance fraud that this country, or any other has ever seen.

I am not going to go into my million amounts of points as to why this didn't go down the way they say.  But I am going to put my main points.  And if you don't like it, go suck the government's LYING dick.

1.  There have been flight controllers and many professional pilots who were interviewed after 9/11.  Many of them not only say that the "hijackers" could not have possibly maneuvered those planes in the way that they did in order to hit those urban city buildings -- but that the people that they say flew the planes into those buildings not only DIDN'T graduate the flight school they went to almost 5 years prior to 9/11 but that they FAILED out of their classes.  Many of the professional pilots even admit to not being able to make those kind of maneuvers even after more than 30 years of experience in the air. 

2.  Many people who were at the sight of 9/11 have been interviewed.  One man, who worked in building 7 - which was NOT hit by ONE single plane, spoke out about how his building collapsed to the ground without anything except the sound of bombs going off on the bottom level.  He was found dead in his apartment months after the interview.

3.  Building 7 was said to have collapsed after being "exposed" to the flames/ash/fire of the World Trade Center buildings, although nothing ever touched it - it went down like a planned demolition.

4.  Many professional demolition workers have said many times that BOTH trade tower buildings went down in the manner of a "planned professional demolition".  Even at 15 years old, I said "hey, that looks like when they demolish a building".  You can clearly see each explosion happen throughout the building during the actual news footage. Firemen in the buildings said that they could hear each detonation go off. 

5. There is evidence of the documents that were planned since 1997 to take down both buildings in order to take out one of the biggest insurance policy frauds of all time.  The entire plan was in action since 1997.  Do you know how many people were involved?  More than you want to know.  Want to know who the owner of the building is?  He is a man tied heavily to powerful people and families in Iraq and Iran.  His name is clearly Middle Eastern.  I refuse to post it.

6.  The "plane" that hit the Pentagon - NEVER HIT THE PENTAGON.  There was NO airliner debris found anywhere near that building.  Nor did any of the 1,000 cameras on the outside of that building catch the "plane" hitting it's precious building.  The section of the pentagon that was "hit" by the plane, also -- quite conveniently had NO employees in it as it was being "refurbished".  It also held NO important documents.  Oh, but there was a drivers license of one of the "passengers" found about 2 miles away from the crash site.  That MUST mean that a plane hit a building and that the only remains that survived are a piece of fucking paper and some shit that looks nothing like a god damn aircraft.  HAVE YOU SEEN AN AIRCRAFT CRASH?! HAVE YOU EVEN SEEN THE FUCKING TV SHOW LOST?! THEY DID A BETTER JOB MAKING A CRASH LOOK REAL.  FUCK YOU.

7.  During the exact same time as the first plane was hitting the first building, want to know what the government was up to?  The government was doing a test run of what air traffic controllers WOULD do if there WERE to be planes that were flying BELOW the level that they are supposed to and IF they were to head for a BUILDING.  It was a "test run".  And it had EVERY single traffic control man in the area thinking that those planes were the "test run". There was no test run.  Just the real thing.  There is NO other way to explain the fact that men and women who go to work every day to make sure planes don't hit each other or anything else ALL failed to NOT notice 3 planes entering into a major city airspace at a low altitude and aiming straight for some of the countries tallest/most important buildings.  Sorry,  I wasn't fucking born yesterday.

I'm going to stop there.  I sound crazy enough as it is.  But I would rather be crazy and a little out there than be a sheep following the lies that I am told just to feel like I can sleep at night.  I'm sorry but the terrorists that we should be afraid of are in our own backyard.  They are the people in suits telling us what is good for this nation.  They are the people who can look American people in the face and tell them that we are going to go to war just to get back at those people who hit our buildings.  They are the people who make decisions for you with their best interest in mind, not yours.  I'd rather question this and be completely WRONG than not question it and not give a fuck what the truth is.

At the end of the day, I know that a million other Americans will agree with me that no matter what the story is, no matter what the proof is and no matter what their opinions are, there is one thing that we can agree on.  And that is the fact that things just don't add up about 9/11.  They simply DO NOT add up the way they've been told.

Ignorance is bliss.  And that government of yours, wants you to stay as ignorant as possible.  So please do if you want to.  I don't blame you.  Otherwise, keep questioning and if you really want to know where I get my information from -- ask me. 

I've Been Busy

I say that all the time.  That's how these things go downhill to that forgotten zone.  NOT THIS TIME BITCH.

My weekend was hectic.  Universal Studios made me feel like a kid again.  Although, I wanted to slit the non-existent wrists of the sun and drag some clouds over it's dead carcass - I had an amazing time.  I am not built for hot weather.  My tattoos felt like they wanted to detach from my body and run off into the nearest pool of water.

I miss my friends from Portland so much. 

Then I saw my family for my niece's 11th birthday party. FUCKING 11th.  Are you kidding me?

My niece was born in 2001.  Two days after 9/11.  Obviously on 9/13.

Tomorrow I'm going to write about my feelings on 9/11.  And I don't give a FUCK how controversial they are.  That shit is fucking shady and I'm going to call its ass out for the 11th year in a row.

Get ready.  My blood boils on 9/11.  I'm going to scorch this motherfucking blog with rage.

Heaven Sent Don't Wanna Walk Away

I do this thing where I pick a time period of my life and I'll just sit there and remember all of the memories that I possibly can about that period of time.  That one segment. 

It's an incredible thing.  The human mind.

At barely 26 years old, I have some of the best memories and some of the worst.  But no matter what, I love every, single inch of my life.

I'm happy tonight.

Maybe it's the beer.  Maybe it's the whiskey.  Maybe it's the Xanax.  Maybe it's the weird pills my Mom sent me.  I don't remember their name but they make you feel good.

But I'm happy.  I have a secret reason for being happy.  I'm never going to tell.

These moments though, the memories of so many different phases of life.  So many different versions of myself.  So many experiences I would go back to in a minute.  So many people, so many songs, so many drugs, so many nights, so much love, so much hate, so much work, I adore it all.

I love my mistakes.
I love my fights.
I love the struggles, the battles, the wins, the wars, the times that I never thought I'd get through.  The times that I felt like I could do anything.  The times I did do anything.  The times I did things no one thought I could.  The times I didn't do anything at all  The accomplishments.  The proud moments where you surprise yourself.

HOW COULD THINGS BE SO LOVELY AND SO AWFUL? HOW CAN THINGS BE SO UP AND DOWN?

Oh life, you are the most astounding thing I have ever come across.  I have met you before but not like this.  Not this time.  I have been here before but everything was different.  I'm convinced I was a wealthy boy.  In a different country.  I'm sure I was quite the gentleman.

Where do the substances begin and end?  I love a lot of things about life.  I also hate a lot of things about life.  The most ironic part is that mostly, they are the same.  Like an overlapping Venn Diagram.

I am the biggest contradiction.  I've said it one hundred thousand times.  Other people have told me more.  BUT WHO IS KEEPING TRACK? Not me.

This is the only moment there is.  Live and live and live and take life seriously enough to live but not enough to fear.  Fear is the biggest weakness you could have.  

The Past

I never look back.  I never look forward.  I only look at here, now and present.  Some people hate that about me.  I think it's my best quality.  Fuck em.

HOWEVER -

I used to write so eloquently, I used to have such a grandiose, lovely vocabulary.  I used to phrase things in such a way that I would send shivers down my spine.  I used to feel things so intensely that when I would write, it would be like me taking a knife to my skin and bleeding out all that I had left inside on these blank, blinking cursor templates.  I used to put together words and ideas that would never be thought to be put together, or anywhere near.  I don't know what has happened to me - I have many ideas of what but I cannot pin-point them.  For a long time, I always thought that I didn't feel the need to write anymore because I was happy - but the more I think about it, I was just distracted.  I was just alluding myself to think that I was happy. 

There is this constant and consistent limbo that I live in, probably that I have created - where my depression combines with my happiness in a perfect swirling circle.  Like the kind you would find on a peppermint.  I've come to terms with the fact that no matter how happy I am, with all or nothing in my life - that there is always this perpetual darkness that lingers there.  It is not a bad thing but it is not a good thing.  It's an OK thing.

I can't even remember a time where it did not exist.  That creature is the one that comes out when I write and for so long, I have suppressed it.  I have suffocated it to the most extreme degree that I feel that it has become angry - my inner voice, my inner spirit for lack of a better word and... I feel it emerging.  I feel it growing strength and momentum.  I do not wish the morbidity upon myself but I do want to feel the passion that I once felt to dictate these words onto these pages.  I want to let my subconscious free and see what kind of entity it is now.  It has been years since I have even known what my true thoughts are and which ones I fool myself with.

I hope that by engaging myself back into this, that I can find that beauty I once created.  Because even in those times of suffering, I felt the most intense happiness of self.  The most understanding of my being. And I yearn for that feeling again... of being whole - even if I am in pieces. 

I want noise to come out when I scream and I want my heart to beat again.

[There was this girl, who played with pearls
And Pretty Pretty Princess rings
Now she plays with knives and pills
And investigates conspiracies

When the night comes,
She becomes numb
And her eyes begin to beam
Of tragic tales and amphetamine like dreams
Where all the world is clean]

Unlogical Logic

Sometimes I feel like I am on an entirely different planet.  Like my feet are stuck here on Earth, where all I see around me is this disgusting combination of the most beautiful things I've ever seen, along with the most putrid and vile creations of not only life but existence in general.

It brings tears to my eyes.

Sometimes I feel like I was not meant to live a life in this reality that I find myself attached to.  There are times that I often question the idea of reality at all.  Whose to say what reality is? To me reality feels like the constant human struggle to get others to see your reality as you do or to try and see reality as it is to them. 

The human experience is so different.

This is why I get angry when people call other people crazy.  Dismiss and mislabel what you don't understand - easier than trying to understand.
This is why I get angry when people tell me how I feel.  No one will ever know how I feel unless I tell them.
This is why I get angry when people do not respect the experience of another individual - just because one wouldn't do the same, does not give reason for another to attack the ways in which another has chosen to exist, be, dream, say, do, or not do. 
This is why I get angry when people try to change others - the only person who can invoke change is oneself, it must come from within and from a place of desire for that change.
This is why I get angry when people judge what they do not know.  What they cannot possibly know.  You can think that you know it all but all you know is what it is for yourself. 

This is why people say that all human beings die alone.  You are all you have.  You are all you are.  You and yourself and the things that happen to you.  To me, you aren't what happens to you - you are what you make of it.  To me, reality is what you want it to be because if you have to be in it, you might as well create an experience that is made for you - not made for you to fit into. 
To contort or twist into. 
To fit uncomfortably in.

When I think of what I wish reality truly was, it does not fit into the guidelines of typical possibilities. 

I wish that I could become a small particle of matter and bounce around the universe - in silence, in darkness. Not the sad silence, nor darkness. 
Just the quietness of existing, without all the complications.  I yearn for the deafening silence, yet, the hustle and bustle of this reality [life] has me held captive and I stay because life is too beautiful and there is something so comforting about being surrounded by the creations that humans have made.

These buildings.  These roads.  These grocery stores.  These car dealerships.  They are all I know - for I am not a tiny particle twirling through space.  I am many particles, made into a body, in the city of Los Angeles, in the state of California, on the planet Earth. 

Unexpected

I ended up in a wonderfully comfortable bed with a big, white, fluffy down comforter in a house on Mt. Olympus (literally the name of the neighborhood) in the Hollywood hills.

Last night it got sprung on me that I had an hour to get ready and then we were headed to the Whiskey to see my boyfriends friends bands 1 time reunion show.  I don't like unplanned events but I went along with it - "as long as I don't have to drive".  We ended up high-tailing it to Hollywood - 90 to the 405 to the 10, straight up La Cienega - to pick up our 2 friends and have a few drinks before heading down the hill to Sunset.  By the time we got there, I was 2 whiskey shots deep and my meals of the day had consisted of an Islands Jr. Wave @ 1pm and a Cliff Bar around 7pm.  Fuck it, who needs dinner.  There was a huge blow up bong sitting outside the Whiskey that of course, I was enamored with.  I met my boyfriends friend, Edgar who also trains with my new girl crush Ronda Rousey (I guess he does MMA also).  Regardless, now I know her, 6-degrees-of-separation-style.  Score.

We went inside where our friend Brandon bought us all beers and I looked around the Whiskey only to realize I hadn't been there in over 5 years.  And ironically, the last time I was there - I was with my boyfriend but we were only dating back then.  I don't even remember what band was playing but I found the whole thing a little funny.  The band started playing, they are the band formally known as Methadone, now Irate.  I don't listen to a lot of heavy music anymore, unless I'm in my boyfriends car - but I have to admit, they were pretty good.  A beer later and still with my whiskey shots fully absorbed in my body, I decided I wanted to go into the pit.  I asked Brandon's girlfriend if she would go in with me and we slowly merged our tiny-ass bodies into the pit -only to have Brandon push us all the way in.  Coming out, unscathed and luckily with my hoop earrings still attached to my ears, which was my only concern.  Regardless, I felt like it was 2002 up in that bitch.

The set was short and after taking all the time to drive our asses up there, we decided to go back to our friends house, drink some beers and have a sleepover.  Which is something I'm very rarely up for in general but at the same time, I'd hate to pass up a free night in a rich person's house in the hills - despite it being too late and a little too cold to take advantage of the salt water pool.  We drank, probably to much, and segregated.  The boys did boys things like playing drums and guitar at 1 in the morning while we did girls things like talking about the boys, Balenciaga bags, and how we prefer dogs over people.  Her pajama shorts that I borrowed were so fucking comfortable - I'm convinced they were made of cashmere.  I had half a mind to steal them this morning but I'm not that much of a bitch. By 3am there was a helicopter circling around and apparently an earthquake (that I'm not surprised that I didn't feel) and then the night was over.

Come 9am, we bounced and headed back down the hill to the nearest McDonald's for breakfast.  Thus ending my luxurious night that although was remarkably random, unplanned, thrown together and strange - was probably one of the better nights I've had in awhile.  But those are always the best - the ones that could never have been planned.

Too bad my body hated me this morning.  And still kind of does. 

My Life Be Like

SEPTEMBER = BIRTHDAY

My Mom already got me my birthday presents.  I know this because she asks me every year, early, and gets me 2 things that I really want (real gold hoop earrings/Zomg JC platforms).  Then a bunch of other small things she finds over the course of the entire month of September.  Then, Taco has to get me some stuff too - she's such a good dog, she gets an allowance.  Anyway,  I'm a fucking spoiled mommysgirl brat. 

BUT...there are a few more things I want.  Probably that I'll end up buying for myself but I'm just going to list them for fucking fun.

• LA hat (either blue or black - haven't decided).  Possibly settle for  Lakers hat.
• Dior "Lip Addict" Maximizer 
• Kobe Bryant SUNDAY WHITES jersey 
• Misfits "Graveyard" T-Shirt 
• Suicidal Tendencies "Flip Cap Skull" T-Shirt  
• Louis Vuitton logo Charm Bracelet 
• Bukowski tattoo on my foot 
• Trip to New York (where I may or may not like to do some drugs with Cat Marnell, if possible)

TOO BAD THINGS COST SO MUCH MONEY.  TOO BAD I DON'T REALLY NEED ANY OF THEM. TOO BAD I WANT THEM ALL REGARDLESS. 

George Carlin Stand Up

He gets me
He says what I want to say
I'm sad that he died
I'm sad that almost everyone I really have ever looked up to is dead
Except my Mom
Who at some point will also have to die
And my world will fall apart


I was thinking about my Grandfathers
I never got to meet the TRW engineer
I never got to ask him about his life
Only had to hear it from his terrible wife
I still don't get why he loved her
But thank goodness he did, or my Father wouldn't be here
I have so much to ask him
I know he would have loved me
I know he would have put me through college
I know I would have been different

I didn't have enough time with my other Grandfather
From 1986-2001 he was everything to me
He was tough as nails and took no shit
He gave no shit and lived how he wanted
He provided for his family even if he wasn't perfect
He picked the most generous woman to marry
And gave me the best thing on this earth
I wish I could have talked to him more
I wish I could have learned more
I wish I could have hugged him more
And hear him say, keep your head up sugar
Everything you get through puts hair on your chest
Man up

I wish I could see them.  I wish I could tell them all the things I never got to say.
So many things. 

Mitt Romney wasn't THAT bad (PLZ take me with a grain of salt, or many grains)

So, for the first time in my entire life - I watched an entire Republican GOP convention.  I don't even watch the Democratic conventions because well, I fucking hate politics of any kind.  All humans lie.  Especially when it's to get what they want.  I've never claimed a party - mostly because growing up, I always watched my Mom vote for the Democrats and my Dad voted Republican.  This allowed me to be open to either party because really, they are just there for the illusion of choice.  The thing people don't seem to understand very much is that it doesn't really matter who is the public face we like to call "President".  That word stopped meaning very much a long time ago, probably around the time of FDR.  Ever since then, they are just part of a huge big plan that is far beyond comprehension.  Even if you could comprehend the scale of how big, you wouldn't want to because it would drive you insane.

Regardless, in saying all this - I still, HATE all politicians.  But moving on.

Mitt Romney spent a majority of last night vomiting pro-America statements all over everyone and smiling while all the old people in his audience (dressed in American Flag sweatshirts and miscellaneous other "flare", we will call it) chanted U.S.A, U.S.A.  Fucking right, U.S.A.  Whoever helped him write his speech was pretty good, I'm definitely going to admit that.  He gave the American people what they are lacking right now, which is faith in this country.  You can look around on any given day and see that this country is almost at the worst point that it's ever been, I would even go as far as to call this the 2nd Great Depression.  Shit is fucked.  Like, on a royal level.  Let's not point any fingers because at the end of the day, I'm really not clear on whose fault anything actually is - just that collectively, the people who have been in charge of this country for the last 12 years have pretty much done nothing but keep us at war, keep people dying and keep Americans poor and jobless.  I will NOT get into Bush and 9/11.  I will NOT get into the fact that Obama really hasn't been all that great - because people don't want to hear the truth.  Which is the exact reason why politicians lie..  Go figure.

The main thing that people should pay attention to is that although Obama has done an okay job with the pile of shit that he was left by Mr. George DUBBAYA Bush - he isn't running this country like a true American.  And rightfully so because, there is a really good chance that he really isn't American.  Slight potential slip in the system there.  I agree with him on making things more fair for people but I don't agree with the way he intends on doing it.  Especially because if he is re-elected this term, his decisions will heavily affect my workplace, the people I work for, the people I work with and the businesses that we represent.  Want to know why?  Because Obamacare is going to FUCK, SHIT, UP.  I have to talk to people on the phone every single day that are so afraid to sell their healthcare business right now because they know they won't get what it's worth because if Obamacare goes through, it changes absolutely everything about the industry.  I also talk to people who want to sell their business ASAP so that IF Obamacare gets passed, they won't have to deal with the repercussions of it.  And yeah, I know what people want to say "ohhhh you don't want healthcare for all?"  Of course I do. But I don't want Obamacare.  Sorry.

I also feel the same way I did in 2004 when Bush was reelected.  He didn't deserve a 2nd chance and I honestly don't think Obama does either.  He wasn't given much to work with but he hasn't done that much either.  (Other than STATING that he is OK with gay marriage but NOT really advocating for it on a federal level. Other than being Pro-Choice, which is a generally a STATE issue, not federal so somewhat irrelevant).  He also leaked classified information on the Navy Seals that "killed" Bin Laden, which was a huge national security breach and put those families in danger just because he wanted to have his cake and eat it too.  I'm not saying I'm voting for Romney.  Fuck, I am NOT going to vote at all.  Which pretty much makes this whole thing pointless because people are like "you shouldn't complain if you don't vote" and all that P.Diddy "Rock the Vote" shit but sorry, my 1st amendment is still in place (FOR NOW) so I'll say whatever the fuck I want.  About whatever the fuck I want.

It's like that episode of South Park where Obama and McCain work together to get Obama into office just so that they can rob the vault via the tunnel under the White House.  It doesn't matter who wins this election - they just want you to think that you have a choice.  What do you think happened to all those votes in Florida during the Gore/Bush election?  That was "them".  That was "them" wanting Bush to win over Gore. There are over 22 algorithmic equations regarding who is going to win this election.  The mathematicians that preform them have been correct in the last, well, every election.  Want to know who they predicted to win this one?  Romney.  Want to know why?  Because the American people are finally, FINALLY, *FUCKING FINALLY* pissed off enough at this country and the state of things that they want CHANGE. Actual CHANGE not like, HOPE and shit.  And unfortunately for Obama, CHANGE now means him... you know, not being in office.

There are many many things that I do not agree with Romney about.  However, there are many many many things that Obama has done that were not in the best interest of the American people. But he's done a very good job being a Kardashian and making people think he has their interest in mind.  His whole existence is a Hollywood reality show. Appearance, appearance, appearance. 

If it was up to me, neither one of them would be president.  I would try to summon the dead ghost of Kennedy before I would ever vote for either of these assholes BUT, I do think that people are focusing on the wrong things, again.  And again, everyone is believing people that are trained to LIE to you. 

All I know is that at this point, I would rather have a successful business man running our country than an attorney.  Even though NEITHER of them have any military experience, which is a bit of a concern but I can overlook that.  And NOT to say that Romney should be that businessman running the country but at least he knows how to balance a fucking budget.   And create jobs.  How many corporations has Obama started, funded and followed into success? NONE.  How many jobs did he create for Americans over the last 4 years? -23 million. 

And what I have to say is that no matter who wins, I'm preparing for shit to get way worse than it is now, so that I can be surprised if someone fixes the mess that we are in.  That's the only way to live life.  Aim low so that you don't get disappointed.  OR, aim high and be ready to constantly, mostly likely, in most cases, get disappointed.

EXPECT NOTHING, QUESTION EVERYTHING.  TRUST NO ONE.

P.S. Again, I do not like Romney, nor am I voting for him.  But Obama is not the President we need.  And I'm really sorry if you think so.  The President we need is not even running for office this election and probably never will.  We need a human, not a puppet/robot/piece of shit.

Hate on me all you want.