I really need my own place

Every night for the past week, I've dreamed about life in my own apartment. Just me, and Yoda. Some roommates if we must (you know, because I'm in college and we can't afford the rent but still feel the need to live on our own...off campus). I'm not kidding either; my dreams seriously have been revolving around this.

Well, my own place and Dave Navarro. BUT who can blame me for that one?

*contented sigh*

ANYWHOO, as I was saying...a new place on my own would be great. I think it might be next fall before that happens (lot's of plans...lot's going on, lot's of previous commitments you know the drill). But I can't wait. There are so many reasons it's not even funny, first being because I'm a twenty-something (A YOUNG one) and haven't lived outside of my parent's house even once. Second, well...a conversation from my dad might help.

I guess to really get the gist of it you've got to understand that I live with my dad on a ranch 30 minutes from the nearest town (and an hour and a half from my school ugggh). I "work" for him, which really means I'm at his constant disposal. I've got to admit for the most part my job is easy. I drive him to town, pick up my sisters...occasionally feed horses, babysit, and clean the house. It really is easy, and I hate that I'm writing this blog bitching about it. BUT I AM. Because I damn well can. And possibly because I feel justified in doing so by this:

I'm sitting on the couch with my sister helping her do math homework when I mention I have homework to do myself and me and my sister joke around about swapping. She's ten, I'd kill for my homework to be THAT easy. We had gone riding on Saturday and me (being an idiot I admit) thought I could just ride in my dad's GIANT saddle, knowing the stirrups to be far far far too long for my short frame. Anyway, I did it, and I did it well I've gotta admit. Cantering (for those of you not horse-savvy that means "jogging" in horse style...basically) wildly around the paddock with my thighs glued to the horse like the BEAST thighs that they are (psych). So, I've been walking with a serious limp just about everywhere and people keep asking why. I say "I was riding bareback (oh ya added emphasis on the whole no stirrup thing...I went from saddle to bareback...to make it sound as difficult as it was) for an hour and a half (another blatant lie, it couldn't have been more than twenty minutes but I don't want to sound like a total loser ok?) at a canter and now I'm just really sore."

I can't even begin to describe how sore I am. I wake up at night hurting, I didn't know being this sore was possible.

I must''ve been using damn near every muscle in my body to keep from falling off. However, I have NOT been limping in front of the father. Why? Because that would be showing how weak I am. Anyway back to the main point.

Dad: "Oh, ya sooo the dishes are starting to really stink....is that something you think you could ya know...DO tonight? Would that be possible?" I know this sounds nice. But use a REALLY condescending tone and you'll understand how I responded...

Me: "Ya, UH think YOU could help out?"

Dad: "I'm not getting paid." ooooh slap me in the face why don'tcha pa. You're right. You're NOT getting paid, and consequently neither am I. Ok, ok. You JUST paid me from three weeks ago and everything else you owe. Ya, I still had to scrape by for a bit.

Me: "Dad, you haven't done a single dish the entire time I've been here. You preach to Mason about how she should 'just help out because she's family and if she uses a dish she shouldn't mind washing them, it's the right thing to do.'" Ya, it's true...he said that to my sister. and he hasn't done ANY himself. Doesn't he know children follow their parent's actions NOT their words? Duh. So I explained (embarrassed...VERY) how sore I was and how it hurt just to stand. Pretty sure he thought I was just making up some BS which, to be fair, isn't something I wouldn't do or anything. But still.

So, I did the dishes. and I did them by myself. and I'll just be damn happy when I get that 250 on friday.

and he better damn well pay me for it.

So, cheers to fall...and living on my own. :)

There's a feeling in the air

teasing me;

like a piece of candy

hanging just out of reach.

Something just around the corner

waiting.

Nothing could ever be this empty,

yet so very full.

the world is spinning

madly

in circles I can't seem to

fathom

the importance

STOP

sit

and listen

faint whisper

I hear you

faint whisper

I hear you

the world is spinning

madly

in circles I can't seem to

fathom

the importance

STOP

sit

and listen

STOP

sit

and listen

do you feel it beating?

do you feel it creeping?

faint whisper

I hear you.

Texas

Surrounded by a circle of friends,
in this
warm
thick
weather
cloaked like a blanket
on my frail, northern shoulders.
enveloped by the love of my friend-family,
in this
humid
lush
weather
cloaked like a blanket
on my frail, northern shoulders.
this is
exactly
what the doctor ordered.

lost

so hard to find the words for what I'm feeling

a mixture of abandonment, a pinch of anger

and a whole universe of lost.

it's just that everything I write feels inadequate

even the flowers seem to lack their previous luster

and although this moment shall be fleeting,

as if I don't know the sun will shine tomorrow,

I have found motivation in the emptiness

you have given me.

I have found motivation in the fragile caress

of the cavernous void left after a raging fit of anger

and once again I find nothing makes sense, but to write.

To pour my soul into meaningless words

written on paper or digitized into a world

where they will all soon be forgotten

to everyone, but their author.

And isn't it man-kind's goal to leave behind a legacy?

to make something worth remembering?

and how shall I be remembered?

as the girl who smiled too much...

laughed too loudly...

felt too quickly...?

what drab bit of nothingness will be my legacy?

it won't be the poetry, the tenderness

the way my skin leaps aflame at the hint of your touch.

it won't be the artistry, the passion

the way I long for that perfect kiss.

it won't be the intelligence, the insanity

the way my heart can't seem to function if you're not around.

No, it won't be any of these things...

...unless of course

It's what I force them to see.

Dear Internet,

I apologize for my absence, the end of a semester is always fast paced and gets me crazy busy.

So, let me update you a little on my outrageously boring-but-fast-paced month. I've driven to montana and back. Gone to the Oregon Coast, got incredibly lost in Portland, spent four or more hours searching for my car. Almost ran out of gas about ten miles outside of Spokane, BUT DIDN'T. Spent about a week pretending life didn't exist with my buddy, and now I'm playing catch up to finish all the things I need to do for life. The week was worth it.

Now, the semester is over, and summer begins. I promise laughter soon. But for now it's the hustle and bustle of getting prepared to get the heck on the road home.

Adieu.

It's charming, that look given me
from lucid blue eyes so deep...

they might stretch for miles if given the choice.

the choice to wander, to never walk a path of normality

my spirit laughs not knowing what to say

or what to think

or how to feel.

so lost.

forced to wander, to never walk a path of normality

might stretch for miles.

that look given me

is lost, so charming.

Are all teeny boppers this stupid or is the northwest rotting their brains?

I had this ravenous craving for little ceasar's crazy bread today. So, after class, I drive all the way across town to the only little ceasar's within forty miles. I walk in, a total mess in my too-long, too-ripped, soaking-wet-from-the-stupid-amount-of-rain sweatpants, hair and make-up putting Chris Crocker to shame.

In my peripheral vision I notice a burst of color. "oh god please no teeny boppers please not today" I'm begging the world don't make me deal with them. Apparently, the universe had other plans, plans that included putting a homicidally hungry lunatic in a room with a horde of creatures who look like rainbow brite and marilyn manson got together and threw up an army.

So, I'm standing in line (which is taking far too long by the way, isn't the point of little ceasar's their quick service?), when one of the goth-barbies gets a text message. And here, readers, is where the story takes a turn.

Gothbie #1 (screams at the top of her lungs): LYYYYYKEEEE what is a pole-ter-GEE-ist?

(say it with me now POLE-ter-GEE-ist.)

Gothbie #2 or 47 I'm not sure: "Whaaaat? pole-ter-GEE-ist? I don't know what a pole-ter-GEE-ist is, why, what did she say?"

Gothbie #1: "She said she was watching pole-ter-GEE-ist. Like, is that a new reality show or dating game or something?"

By this time the occupants of the store, the rest of us all being well over the age of 15, start to get restless. The girls are talking REALLY outrageously loud and really? who doesn't know what the poltergeist is? seriously? One lady in a business suit is standing in the corner mouth gaping in awe of the outright display of moron-ism.

So, here I come wonderful hero to save the day!

Me: "It's polterGEIST. Like a ghost, you know, the movie? She's watching a movie about a ghost!"

Well, I guess how dare I speak to such magnificent specimens of the human race because they just stared at me like I was completely insane for helping them out. Or maybe they were staring at the bread in my hair and the marinara sauce on my front that had just been bombed upon me by an uncontrolled three-year-old.

meh, either way I got my crazy bread.

I'm sick, and when I get sick I get whiny. And by whiny I mean so beyond annoying that if you're around me for more than 2.5 milliseconds you'll most likely be pulling your hair out straining not to pick up the nearest gun and put one of us out of our misery.

When I'm sick it's like my brain and body are at war with each other. My brain is hyper-as-fck, like a severely ADHD child who desperately needs medication but her parents are too broke/busy pretending their child is normal to actually give their kid/it's teachers a break.

Brain: holy fck I'm bored! bored!! BORED!!! BOOOOOORED!!!!!!!!! Body get your lazy ass up! let's do something! let's redecorate the bathroom! it needs a new sink. and a new coat of paint. oh I know! let's go for a jog! let's take the dog to the park! let's go play frisbee golf. let's paint the fucking mona lisa. ANYTHING!

Body: meh. no, thanks. laying here sounds good.

Brain: seriously, I'm going to punch you. get up, put your feet on the floor and move it you heifer.

Body: Brain I'm warning you, if you don't shut up I'm going to....do nothing. I can't even move. I'm exhausted. Lifting a fucking finger even feels like an hour long work out. I'm not moving, I'm going to sit here and stare at nothing, that is that.

Brain: FINE! But I'm going to make mouth so fucking unbelievably whiny that no one will want to be around you or help you! MWUAHAHAHAHA retaliation is beast!

Body: meh.

One fatal flaw of being a 20-something in school and living with your mother is this, she knows exactly how many days of school you've missed. So when you're really sick and can't go to school she guilt trips you as if you're fifteen, and as if she still can tell you you if you don't go to school you want get ice cream. or money for the movies. or to see your boyfriend this weekend. and by-god-almighty, you will NOT be getting that new super-awesome-latest-technology-device-every-has-to-have if you don't go to school young lady.

Sure mom, I'll go to school. My classmates really love it when their neighbor is hacking up a lung on top of them.

"dude, did you just cough your lung on me?"
*blank face*
"sorry"

what? doesn't everyone want bloody lungs coughed on to them at least once in their lifetime? ....no? my mistake.