the tragedy inside myself.

...

after reading my blog from long ago, i realized i certainly haven't changed at all.

but what has changed is that i've lost sight of myself.

two years. that's probably coincidentally how long it's been since i felt connection—with that one girl—who i used to keep tortured inside of me.

she was kind of magical. and brilliant.
and she wasn't at all afraid of asking for a head of lettuce.

i don't care to catch you up with the boring details that have attached to my life like lint. the story is this. i miss you. and i miss the way you made me feel about myself.

i've realized i'm afraid of a lot of things in life. but i'm not afraid of this.

so come beat me or vandalize me and kiss my mouth.
i need it back so i can remember how it felt.
how i felt.

gangsters vs. robots.

it's one-thirty-something in the afternoon and i'm sitting at tully's. this tully's actually irritates me because it's usually super chilly, but i'm hiding out here for reasons relating to april fools day. as in, it's stupid. 

so yesterday the boss's adulterous girlfriend sent an email around telling everyone to wear black as if to play a joke on her man, i mean, the boss. 

me, naturally being the anti-school spirit kind of gal, deleted the email immediately and forgot about it. 

but today, when i walked in, i was greeted by a head-to-toe black-dressed "administrative assistant" and was told i was the only person that wasn't wearing black today. that was fine, and though i was somewhat annoyed, i was more shocked that people listened to oh-whats-her-name. but as the day progressed, literally everyone was wearing black.

wtf. 

so really, while i am actively fearful of becoming something of a pyramid robot, i am more disappointed in all of the others who i thought were true o-g's. guess i was wrong.

so anyway, here i am—drinking my 400 calorie grande caramel macchiato—freezing my ass off in pink.  

oh right, it's thursday.

it's interesting to think about how the smallest details can change so many things. and by the time you realize what's happening, everything is spiraling out of control. 

today was a weird day. and i can't help but wonder what would have happened if that email wasn't sent—if today was just an ordinary thursday. 

friends, decisions, capital letters, loneliness. 

(what if pickles didn't have fur?) 

i wish it all made sense. and my insides weren't turning metallic.andmyreflectionrobotic. 

today i took a mental smoke break outside with george-the-dog. and in mid-throw of the chuck-it, i let my impulses get the best of me. and i realized i need to do that one thing i was scared about last year. 

it's 8:33 p.m. 

when i close my eyes i realize a familiar jingle is on tv—the one that i used to think was annoying, then later put it on my phone as a ringtone—michael says 'pump it' and jim and pam are talking long distance. 

i know it's all going to be okay.

 

page 62.

"i was starting to see it was all pretty much the same thing. lucy and i had ceased to be distinguishable from everyone else and every day the ground was getting softer, swallowing us up a little bit more. we had each come to realize that no one was going to save our lives, and that if we wanted to save them ourselves, we only had one skill that afforded us any hope at all. writing is a job, a talent, but it's also the place to go in your head. it is the imaginary friend you drink your tea with in the afternoon."

page 38.

"he's insane. everything he says is insane, it's absolutely clear and i'm sure of it, but then he'll say one little thing that is so completely true that it undoes me. the true thing catches you off guard, and then everything starts to unravel, and you think about all the insane things he said and you start to wonder if maybe they were true too and maybe you just didn't want to believe it. that's what he's always telling me anyway, that i didn't believe the rest of it because i couldn't face the truth."

what the mother of pearl.

i'm eating peanut butter balls by the handful. they are delicious and i can't stop, won't stop. possibly for good reason. 

today was a shit day. and while i'd like to ignore the fact that i am sort of becoming one of those people—which, by the way, may be my worst fear—i can't not mention the reason my back has turned into one very solid hunk of pain. 

it was something of an adrenaline rush, really. details aside, was extinguishing one fire after the other, getting me a little high. and by the time i was at a point of exhaustion and belly ache, it was time for lunch. i met up with a friend and got to hear the exciting news about her new house. several 'oh shits, sures and omgs' later, i was back with my helmet on, hanging on for dear life on first and virginia. 

lots more flagged emails and wtf moments went by, and then finally, i noticed the clock anxiously near closure. 

okay. becoming quickly bored with my cluster-fuck recount, i'd like to note this:

1. i'm glad i never acquired an eating disorder, because i think i have many of the characteristics associated with them.

2. i'm pretty irritated and disappointed, but everything will be okay. 

3. walking home from caitlin's house wouldn't be half as bad if it wasn't cold as hell outside. and if i wasn't greeted with laughter. and if i had my keys.

4. i wish i had saltines to toss in my tomato soup. 

5. i really need to shake up my blog again. 

boo. 

hope next time i have something lovely to offer. 

just dance.

it's funny how we change. (or don't change.)

if someone asked me if i dance, i'd probably say no. but really, if you get enough alcohol in me and put on something catchy, i totally do, dance. 

i remember when i entered my first after school dance setting. i was in nebraska, in 6th grade, and totally clueless. attempting to sway to the rhythms of everyone else's beat, i faded in-and-out of those awful 'who let the dogs out'-'macarena' clusters. 

later then, once i became more confident in my lyrical sway, i began embracing my rebellious femininity. sneaking out, pretending we were going to the movie theatre for the second time that weekend, my friends megan and tiffaine and i would dart off to the 16-and-over club in kirkland. dynamite was this super sketch place that should not have allowed us innocent little girls into. but it was definitely one of my most ridiculous memories from those high school days. 

while i'm clearly not a girly-type girl these days, back then, silver hoop earings were a must. and, the tighter the jeans, the better. i remember this black lightning bolt shirt i would rock and think i was the shit. i must have looked like quite the little azn. so funny. 

and nowadays, while my bumping and grinding days are long gone, i have been known to, on occasion, make an appearance on the dance floor at r place. well, of course with at least one vodka tonic, a couple of rounds of darts and some britney, bitch. 

so perhaps we change and maybe we don't. but there are some things, such as scuffed up converse and alcohol-impaired memories that are items i'd like to hang onto. 

as for the lightning bolt shirt. i'm not so sure.