Circles That Make Up Squares

connect - (conclusion)

2013-03-23T01:24:00.001-07:00

I didn't believe a word. Not one, until the proof was slapped down in front of me. I realized, afterwards, that that was the first time someone I knew died that I actually felt emotionally towards even if we weren't the closest people in the world, in fact it was the first time I ever knew someone who had been murdered. When I first heard, the world was surreal and fake. It couldn't be true. How could it? I felt myself trying to reach out with my mind. To feel a connection with him. I tried to imagine the warmth life-filled energy that comes with every live mammal. I grasped, but didn't really know what I was quite looking for. I finally accepted the truth when I heard it from his family and when they posted a story about it in the local newspaper. The day I accepted the fact, it seemed like all of his family's emotions were hitting me like a wave. I grieved for one day. That was it.. I can't think about him too much or I'll dive into a bad place and I hate the pounding headaches I get behind my eyes from mourning. I feel selfish. -get over yourself. you need to talk to Her. to you. to your inner child. just meditate with the calcite or some shit and get it over with. shit.- But, I thought to myself. Maybe, if I meditate and get better at it and improve myself, I'll be able to see him again. Find him, wherever he is. Have a laugh, joke about the blank cd's he always promised to bring over but always forgot...-stop.- I don't know what I believe in, but I do have an open mind and am ready to believe just about anything, but that doesn't mean I'm not a skeptic. I've been 'reading' into chakras- even bought some crystals to meditate with. It's hard to meditate sometimes though, a clear mind is hard to achieve when you have thoughts rushing around pretty much 24-7. But sometimes I can achieve it, and when I do it feels so relieving. I've thought over the things I put in my last post, and I've decided that maybe it would be best to not go through with this 'closure' thing. I tried having a talk with my mother but it just felt unsuccessful and useless with a false aire of success. Fake. She's always fake. That means you're fake. You're the chicken she's the farmer whatever she feeds you, you shit out, now dont you? But she's not feeding me anymore which is ironic because she didn't even fucking do that much. Just spiteful. She's playing with my emotions of my mother because She doesn't think it's fair. I don't either, but I can't let her win. I can't get away with shit like that now that I'm older and trying to improve myself. She's subdued, for now. That's why I need to talk to Her. And....Him? I think He was just a manifestation of my guilt. I don't feel Him in my head like I do Her. He felt external and was only with me in the bad times for less than 2 years. But She, She's been around since I was 8. Through bad and good. Mostly bad, especially when I got older. I was letting her take control and she was tossing everything to shit. My mind was deteriorating. I could feel it. What's real anymore? I remember asking myself that so many times. I'd hear whispers. Sounds amplified times 20. Beads falling down onto themselves was deafening. Who's talking? What is that? Is that actually physically there or am I just imagining it? I can feel it. But I can't blame it all entirely on Her. When I remember that time in my life I do feel a bit better a guess because I'm not really falling hopelessly down insanity lane like I was during that 'era'. I know that I'm pretty damn close to the edge. I think the only thing really that keeps me here is my fiance. But back to what I was saying before- I don't really think talking is a good idea. Honestly I don't know what I'm expecting or looking for. Besides, I think I've said everything that needs to be said. When it comes to my family, it will just be a matter of time and if they even realize/understand what the fuck I'm trying to say. When it comes to the other people I mentioned in le previous post..- it just isn't a good idea. It would only lead to a pain in my chest that I would hate admitting to feeling. It's confusing. -talk to Her. talk to me.- I know I will, when I know how. Besides, they already know. or should already know that I'm more than sorry for pain I caused. I understand how I played with them like puppets without even realizing it. -they don't understand you. they just think you're a cold hearted birch- I'd rather be an Oak, or a Spruce..or a Willow tree maybe. I guess birch is fine too. I was a child clinging on to comfort. I was only thinking of myself and what I thought I needed to survive mentally and was just acting on pure feeling and emotion. I never really thought about anything. If and when I would, it would make me look deeper into my actions and subconsciously I avoided it the best I could. And I'm sorry for taking what I shouldn't have. I invaded, maybe in the end I made some kind of 'good' impression when thought of years afterwards, but shit I really don't need to be thinking about or expecting anything out of that. I also know that it would be detrimental to the relationship I'm trying to mend now. If I think of it the other way around, I wouldn't want him looking for 'closure' with the people he had an affair with. I'll probably be ending this particular blog as well. There's nothing here for me anymore. And I saw what you wrote. You, you know who you are. I guess I'm glad that you've realized that (Mar. 15). I hope the same for the latter, although he might have achieved that epiphany a long time ago. I want to be forgotten but somehow in a way thought back of in happiness. That. just sounds. really fucked up, and kind of conceited holy shit. I don't know me anymore. I need to find me. Talk to her. Be happy. So much death, sadness, pain. Times up. I don't feel the need to say anything else. To be honest all these posts are so god damn ambiguous because of my insecurities yet i want people to understand me? makes no sense. They also are all pretty fucking repetitive, if yah ask me. But I give out some pretty harsh self-criticism, so make your own opinion. Maybe I'll start up another blog someday, probably when I get the fuck out of here so I can stop writing about how much I want to get the fuck out of here, also after I lose a lot of this, this whatever it is. Uncertainty and whatnot.

P.S. I really want to achieve astral projection. I've had friends who've done it on accident, but I've never had a dream/experience like that before in my life.

Addy Rants and Sweat Pants

2013-02-25T11:35:00.000-08:00

I've decided to pull an "all-nighter". Doc's got me on addys so it's not like I really can go to sleep right now anyway unless I take an inhale of some green leafy shit I found in the field. Yeah, I just may have quoted Devin the Dude. Fuck it. Well, I finally have a fucking car (don't have a license though *facepalm*). No more walking and biking to and from work/college. Thanks to my father, who seems to be the only person in my family trying to help me. (side note: The idea of everyone from my past that I want to forget, seeing me as I walk/bike past is rather discomforting.) I've been getting more and more depressed. I feel as if I can not have fun anymore, and sometimes, I just want to be alone. Maybe it's because I live in a small studio apartment with another person. I hope so. Speaking of him, he's passed out on the floor snoring. Wonder if I should wake him up. He's been having a lot of nightmares lately. Most likely due to me...I cheated on him twice. I won't go into reasons unless personally asked by a "reader", honestly doubt I have one of those though. But, I've had time to think. Expand my mind. And understand myself, flaws, and past as well as present actions I've committed. Not only is this guilt weighing me down but I feel...what is it?.....spite, frustration, vacancy. Maybe all three, but I feel as if I need closure and for some reason I feel that the other people I want to talk or write to want it as well. There's my dilemma. Should I just leave it be? Meditate, talk about it with my fiance on the floor, and try to get over it? I want closure with my mother and older sister. I want closure with the two people of which I spoke of earlier that I had an affair with. But do THEY want it? Or am I just being selfish? ----My once close bond with my sister is breaking. Or at least I thought it was a close bond. She has a 1 and a half year old daughter and another baby girl on the way. I'm crazy about my niece. But I never really get to see her or have her over at my house for whatever reason my sister has developed in her mind. I feel a different love for her than for anyone else. It's a bit maternal but also kind of like a...a friend? That might seem silly seeing as she can't really speak coherently yet. When I watched her for the second and last time, we took a bath together- which for some reason she's terrified of the bath- and I got her to calm down by putting a warm wash cloth on her back and singing to her. My maternal instincts or hormones shot up pretty high as she laid her little head on my chest. It saddens me though...my sister has chosen to stay with and be controlled by her "baby daddy", who is a terrible father and I know that if she stays with him it'll be similar to what happened with me and my mother- You're gonna fuck them up in the head, sis. She won't read this though, even if she did it'd go right over her head like a 10 ft tall wave- except she's got on a waterproof suit and anchors of arrogance and stubbornness so she doesn't get swept away and realize her faults. I can't help but envy her in terms of the love, or whatever you wish to call it, my mother showered her with instead of me. I'll leave it at that for now.
But, it's not over yet, folks! :D I guess I'll talk about some nonsensical bullshit for awhile. I don't really have any friends, so all I can do is pretend that somehow these blog posts are my friends (and my lovely of course). So, apparently I didn't really realize it but I have a bit of "ADD" (hence the adderall). I don't really believe it is a "disorder". I think the cause of ADD is simply that the person did not receive enough attention/stimulation as a child so as they developed, their brain chemistry changed, so that if whatever they're needing to focus on isn't stimulating their brain enough, they just won't be able to concentrate on it because of a chemical embalance. DING DING DING! Aaaaaaaaand who's fault is that? You guessed it! Parents, guardians, etc. I hate how much I've been fucked over and it's made me more cynical. I talk to myself a lot more now. Especially outside by myself, even though I know other people can probably see me. What's odd about it though is that I used to be embarrassed of that sort of thing. I'm bitchier. Maybe because I'm on my period. Doubt it. Probably because I'm tired of being shit on and quite frankly, I'm done with it. -subject change- Adderall is just like cocaine. I can focus like a boss, it suppresses my appetite, (which sucks because I'm already not eating enough. I'm 120 now, which is nice I guess but I'd rather it be out of healthy eating habits instead of starving myself) and it can make me talkative as FUCK. Like now. And when I mix it with lovely green it gives me a silly high where I can just bust out with some trip ass raps, that I can never remember when I'm sober. I want to rap. But in a different way. Something totally new. Mainly because I don't really have a "rapper's" voice, more of a sing-song indie voice. Been listening to Tyler the Creator and Earl Sweatshirt a lot. At first I was embarrassed for liking Tyler because of all the female degradation- which is totally fine but you wouldn't want to eat pb&j your whole life, would you? I understand Tyler more and listen to him a lot more now and I'm able to recognize his brilliance as well as Earl's. It's incredible how much I feel that I can relate to both of them, mainly Tyler. He's an amazing producer, lyricist, and rapper. He intimidates me and because of my already low confidence I can't seem to really write anymore, well lyrics, poems, and fiction stories. I've also just been really busy lately. -They should just make cocaine legal. I'd rather have that than Adderall. One- it's healthier for you (it's all natural and if it's legal I doubt it'd get cut as much). Two- it's healthier for you. Shut up stupid Society and your propaganda! My maturity doesn't match my age; I think that's why it's so hard for me to make friends, especially now (along with other reasons o' course). I work at McDonald's and a lot of the young adults that work there that are older than me act like immature high school kids. I feel older than them but of course the older workers see me as one of them so they don't treat me as an equal either. So I'm stuck between immature teenagers and grumpy older people set in their ways. I can't see how people can eat the food there. It's so disgusting. I've been having the shits all day because I had to eat employee meals for the past 3 days. Bleh. No more of that please.
I realized awhile back , with the help of discussing it with my fiance, that I have sexual anxiety. Almost every sexual encounter I've had has made me feel anxious and pressured, mainly due to past "partners" that weren't so understanding or selfless. For awhile I thought something was wrong with me- A lot of the time when I would have sex it would really burn afterwards or during, even with lube, but (with some help) I've realized that it's all caused by my anxiety; it causes my muscles to tighten up which causes friction burn sometimes and it generally just fucking hurts like shit and it's embarrassing. (By the way, queefing is also very embarrassing). I've been trying to get better at it. Like relaxing and trying to focus on the sex instead of thinking about bad shit I've done and other random dumb stuff. Haven't had sex in awhile...okay like a week and a half maybe. I just don't really know what arouses me anymore, I think it's also the guilt, and the fact that both of us are busy a lot now. I want to leave this place behind. I know you can't run from your problems but I think if I get away from here physically, I can get over my problems a lot easier, faster, and less stressful. I'm so glad we have a car now. I finally feel more independent. (-Hey K. *Yeah? -Need to get that basket of clothes from your mom's before you claim your independence Lawls, get it? *Yeah, yeah because I'm in a history class and yeah I know. I just really don't want to see that judgmental negligent face.) "Now that we're on the subject, could we change the subject now?" (< modest mouse) I have a cat, Pollock (I call him Po for short sometimes; he's named after 2 different people. Pollock, from the artist Jackson Pollock, and Po from the poet Edgar Allen Poe) and he is going to be 2 coming up this March. I've noticed quite a few changes in him. He gets a lot more cuddly now than he used to. I've been training him to use the toilet for almost over a year now but it just sucks because he's got the pissing down but when it comes to pooping- he's confused as fuck. Probably from his natural instinct to want to cover it up or maybe he just doesn't like the back-splash (who can blame him). I'm not sure, but I am looking forward to starting that vet tech class, I'd also like to look into and educate myself on CAT behaviour and I guess a bit more on dog behaviour as well, although I feel pretty damn confident about that. I've never really studied cats in those terms before. Just as I was typing this, Po decided he'd shit in the bath tub, so I'm going to go ahead and say that it's the back-splash from the toilet that's deterring him. Maybe I can google some shit on how to lower the water level in the commode. One and a half more hours until my history class starts and this will be the first day ever that I won't be biking there. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with bikes. Only when you're riding AGAINST the wind or when it's cold as fuck and raining all over you or when you're just so fucking physically and mentally weak. -side note: said something to my dad I thought I'd never say to him. Dad: You know God loves you. Me: FUCK GOD!- Haaaaaa. Maybe not so much of an achievement but I'm tired of my dad having some stupid hope that I'll be a christian again. Nope, mister, sorry. Guess I'll get ready for school as I do this. It would be cool if humans didn't need to sleep...or eat for that matter. There's 4+ hours of shit I could be doing instead of sleeping. Sleeping while you're awake. That would be nice. It seems like I can't get upset without breaking something, hurting myself, or screaming anymore. I think I'm at the very tippy top of my stress level because last summer I felt a lot calmer and reserved- I also wasn't going to school or working then so doop derp de-doop. I smoked with my dealer the other day. He is pretty cool and not like most dealers. He's very personal and friendly. -He better be after the scale we gave him and the Devin the Dude CD's we've burned for him. :) But yeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaahhh. Shaved my legs for the first time in like a month. It's gonna be so much fucking colder now but I love that smooth leg feel. I wish I could have them like that all the time. I've decided not to really give a fuck about my underarms. In Europe it's natural! Maybe a trimming or something here and there but it's not like they're my pubes or something. Even though they kind of are. Just as long as my fiance is okay with it, then it's all "Gucci". I really hate "gender roles". It's just a bunch of stress and expectations that Society (run by a bunch of old dumb fucks apparently that aren't open minded and can't change their "traditions and values") places on individuals according to their sex, but it doesn't really stop at that does it now? No. We're still aggressively sexist, racist (ha, almost typed rapist), borderline nationalist/patriotic, feminist, religious, etc. It's ridiculous. EVERYBODY, WE ARE ALL THE SAME. WE ARE ALL ONE. Is it so difficult to understand? I have such little hope for humanity if things keep going the way they're going. I miss my tape recorder. I used to carry it around with me all the time (especially during my senior yr of high school) and just record thoughts, make up songs, etc. I guess I should start carrying it around more. I love that thing. It's very useful if you're entering into a "sketchy" situation and might want to record what's going on and shit for evidence or just to look back on...like my recent ridiculous argument with my older sister. But either way, it's useful. And I don't look so crazy talking to myself, because I could just hold it like a phone. I know I'm rambling. But it's the adderall. And the lack of communication with anyone but myself and my fiance so suck it. I try to be friends with his friends but it's hard. They only see me as his "girl", it's annoying. I'm too much of a "guy" to be treated like a "girl" by other dudes. Hypocrite? No, I'm simply just stating gender stereotypes that are obviously in affect. I hate this uterus. I don't even want you, you cause me too much hassle and pain! And I'm not even using you at the moment, couldn't you just lay off until/if I even decide to conceive children! Graaaagh! Well, off to class- well off to prodding my fiance awake to take me to class.

Confession: I used to suck my thumb with a "blankie" ever since I was little, and I still do to this day.

Shit.

2013-01-23T16:43:00.000-08:00

All throughout my childhood I would wear a coat with quills protruding from the seams. My mind tricked itself into thinking they were soft down feathers like that of a young bird. This coat grew heavier and heavier as I grew older and seemed to meld to my skin. I've left my nest and started my own, now. But, this coat is stubborn. It blinded me from truth and all I want to do is shrug it off of my body, look at it with new eyes, and then pick the remnants off my flesh and be rid of it. Leaving home, graduating, living my own life and supporting myself, does that make me an adult? I can't seem to shrug off my childhood. Sometimes I can't find myself. Who am I, really? Will I ever overcome the faults that cling to my coat like sticky juice and popped Gushers? I'd like to think so, with time and understanding.
I'm afraid of myself sometimes. I understand now how "feral" I am. How much of an animal I was raised to be. Fight or Flight, and boy do I fight like an animal; when cornered/trapped I do my worst. Thanks to my abusive upbringing, especially to the faggot that made me this way. Fucker.
Homicidal thoughts cross my mind from time to time. I see visions of red. Lots of red. And cynical smiles from lips like mine. I see hands, like mine, tearing and ripping. -Going to the range frightens me. I'm afraid of the power I have there. At any moment I could blow my brains out and anyone else there for that matter, instead I aim for the target and kill certain people in my mind. Bam, Bam, Bam, Bam. Fuck you, you, you and you. I'm always last of course.- I'll admit, and it's probably a bit obvious with all these posts, I'm fucked in the head. But who isn't, really? I'm just scared that if I were to ever be put in a hostile situation I might kill someone. Would I love it? Would I cringe? Or is this just all bark and no bite? Who knows. Maybe I just need to do some kickboxing-sparring shit or something. This post seems to be a bit more personal but maybe it's because I need an outlet. Not like I'm seeing a therapist anymore, not that I ever would again for that matter. My body is changing and filling out, does that make me an adult? No confidence, a loathing for myself I can't shake and guilt rattles my brains everyday.

Community college fucking sucks. I see so many former high school peers and it sickens me. I want to leave this place where I practically grew up. A place without memories, without predispositions, without anything but a new life and a new beginning to my adult life.

This time, it's personal.

2012-06-12T22:50:00.001-07:00

I've been sitting here naked for awhile. I just can't seem to get up and put some clothes on. My nipples are getting hard and the door is partially open from my cat nonchalantly walking into my room without shutting the door. Asshole. But I smell his head and I'm not mad at him anymore. I can tell he's been messing with the plug-in air freshener, because that is what he smells like. Hawaiian breeze. How can someone even capture that scent? I'm hungry, but I don't feel like eating. I haven't felt this peppy in awhile. It's odd. Well, for me anyway- at this moment in my life. I used to be that way in my younger years, but things change and you learn things and experience new shit and whatnot. I'm hungry, but I don't want to eat. I might be schizophrenic, and you might be too. Let's just say that even though I don't really want to, I think I will smoke- Just so that I will get hungry and silly enough to shamelessly poor a heaping bowl of cereal at 12 in the ay em.

So, I decided to put some clothes on. It is just way too cold in here and my nipples were beginning to slice into a whole other dimension- it was crazy. Like some Subtle Knife shit (by Philip Pullman). And, yes, I've decided to smoke a bit just to help me sleep. I'd rather inhale than swallow some pill. Well here we go- get the keys, open the box, take out the shit, sprinkle it in the bowl, and light. Now inhale, that's it. Pull up on the stem and suck. Listen to the bubbling- fast and hard. Like a gurgling sound, but it doesn't make you sick to hear it. This is the last bit I get for awhile until I get back from London and find a job. So, savor it. Or just appreciate it at least. Just fucking enjoy yourself. Bob Marley is etched on the side and I don't particularly like it, once I get to thinking about it. But, it's easy to forget and get used to. You can feel the difference; first you're touching smooth glass, then you move your hand down to thin, grainy lines- Bob Marley posed with a guitar and a microphone, but you can't really tell unless you hold it out a bit in front of you and turn it due to its cylindrical shape.
I miss you, my Zebra, so far up North. Soon I shall be there as well. If my life were a play, would it be a Tragedy? If it were, who/what would be the audience. I keep staring at my tattoo. I can't stop won't stop. Until I drop. Shop. Flop. Cops! -I almost got into it big time with them the other day. Sly shooting, fox. We got away that time!- Well, because they let us go. A fox caught in a snare set free by a hunter. Paradox. Share an ox. --I think it got wet a bit. It's sizzling and hissing at me. It looks wet. Better wait 'til it dries. Or not.
Now. Now, I am ready to slumber.

Buzz, Fuzz, and Fog.

2012-06-12T08:23:00.000-07:00

I hate how she still makes my skin prickle; my brain buzzes around like hornets in a nest that's swinging to and fro, wildly at the stem. My limbs always take to shaking like that. A leash to my brain, and I can't even find the collar. It's probably spiked, and you've gotten so used to its presence that you hardly know it's there. I'm tired, even though I just woke up. I seek solace in dreams but usually I can just stall time for awhile, awakening with bad bubbling ulcers in my belly, or fuzz behind my eyes. Chief seemed to be okay with drifting in the fog. I can too, but the buzzing in my head won't let me appreciate it. Perhaps the collar tightens when the fog rolls in. All the small loopy words I wrote, neat and tightly as if to hide from a watching eye are still etched in my mind. Time passes and I still want them to dance from the page around me, congratulating me on my success. "You did it! Now let's get this mess cleaned up, we've got a big day ahead of us!" But I know, my conscious would be troubled forever, and then once again she holds that leash, strapped to her camera, and she yanks me around each time she finds something worth capturing. With a flash. Hot flash of white and my knees buckle. I can slam my hand into you, but you're already too far away. I am Chief, but he was always bigger than me. He got away. I didn't. Will I ever? I always tend to bathe in the waters that I wish to forget.

Take

2012-06-11T20:22:00.000-07:00

Keep your god damn fingers to yourself.

An outstretched palm laying on parchment that's curling around the edges.

Each fingertip touching a different nation.

You can't claim those.

She strokes the cat sitting in her lap purring.

She can feel the rumbles, soft and deep.

Lapping at the waters; the palm moves across vast oceans and brackish lakes.

The trees shook under the motion and hurricanes began to form.

The hand's mouth speaks of love and guidance.

Guidance, it says, we are obligated to show guidance; it is our duty as highly developed beings.

The fingers lay stretched out and snaking over flat imitations of real things.

The hands are many and almost a blur as they flash around, back and forth like honey bees as they tend to flowers.

Working as bees do.

An intricate design of lines and uniformed figures all lining up under a spot light.

It's your turn.

You need guidance, my child. Except it or die.

And you except it as you try to hold a heavy fingertip over you and your family, over your pride and your accomplishments, over your roots and garden.

Roots that shoot out from the ground, lying dormant, awaiting the right moment to spring upon the earth and claim its top soil.

The hands peel like bark does, leak sap, and absorb liquids.

The hands are too heavy and the sleek oak table splinters under the weight and groans.

Sagging wood, leaking nothing. Empty whispers that only a baby can hear or someone with dementia.

I've swam in that lake a thousand times, and I-

-well I've never once drowned.

Falling

2012-04-19T21:51:00.000-07:00

The feeling you get when you're falling; that lurch in your belly and that lump in your throat. You can't talk, you can't swallow. All you can see is the lack of ground beneath your feet. Stamina- it's inexistent. You're drained, yet still fighting from the initial shock. Like a rabbit in the jaws of a fox after a long, exhausting chase. Pinned up inside your ribcage is a heart, healthy and palpitating. It shouldn't be beating that fast, but you can't help it. I know my emotions are in my amygdala and other various areas in my brain but it seems like my whole body is affected by it. You grasp: desperately and inertly but you just close your fists around empty air, but it isn’t empty, you just think it is because there isn’t an object with enough mass in it to catch you and sustain you back to your “normal” state in which you are plastered comfortably to the ground with feet so awkward. They stick out and find blunt objects in the night; they twist underneath you and cause you to trip, to fall. I never did like the feeling roller coasters give me, and that's what I feel when I'm falling. What you feel. Maybe slightly different but we all feel it as we flow along down the path of life. My mind is pulsating. My brain is bursting out of my skull. I banged it on the way down. I banged it so hard that I could see an odd flash of white that illuminated my closed eyelids and the front part of my brain. My fingers were wet with a clear liquid, but the viscosity was not that of water. It was from a blister on my arm. Not the most pleasant thing you want to see or acknowledge when you're falling. Flipping and flopping about in the air like a fish flinging itself out of the water to get away from a predator and then falling back down to the dangerous waters below. My eyes stung, and you could feel yourself giving up, yet you keep on falling.

They Make Great Listeners

2012-04-07T22:11:00.000-07:00

At around 9-9:30ish, I was feeling a little down
so I had a sit down and inhaled from a rather colorful swirly marble looking contraption tube thing and I started talking to myself out loud. I was alone, so outside noises were kind of creepy and I kept hearing a weird taping-pitter-pattery noise.

It was rather distracting, so I would look over at the window as to attune my ears to the general direction of where the sound was coming from.

As it was dark, I couldn’t see anything so I returned to my puffing and flourishing, deep conversation with myself.

But I heard it again. So, once again, I turned my head to investigate...

It was a motherfucking roach; just chillin’ all sassy and cunningly on an elegant coffee cup, wiggling its antennas at me-probably either laughing at me or listening intently. I guess this would be comforting, but I am terrified of roaches, to the point where it reaches "phobia" territory.

So, I ended my “one-on-one” conversation immediately, and got the fuck out of there. Pronto. I want to say that if I sound (read? I don’t fucking know) different/odd, it’s because I’m still under the effects of swirly marble things, but at least it motivated me to draw/color this shit and write a post. (Think I might have made my hair longer than it actually is). Doop.

Vacant Clothes and Open Windows

2012-03-29T19:31:00.002-07:00

I jolted out of sleep, half expecting a figure to be looming over me- one comforting and sweet, yet terrifying in the night and silhouetted by only the small blue lights from various electronics that wanted to be remembered when the sun was gone from the sky. They would shine, alien-like, and sometimes would make scary shadows on the wall (but, I'm not a kid anymore so of course nothing frightens me) and usually I would toss a shirt over them angrily, cursing them for penetrating my tiresome pupils behind my, apparently, thin eyelids, but sometimes I forget to or just don't want to care and turn my back to them and ignore their attempts at gaining my attention. I'd leave the window open again and again if I must. Many may warn me of burglars, but the sudden absence of my material items doesn't really seem to phase me at this time- besides, I wasn't dreaming in reality. I left it open (or rather, unlocked) in hopes of catching the eye of a drifting soul, one that could rest instead of pacing about the cold sleepy earth awaiting to shimmer away as the sun rose the next morning, and then solemnly repeating the process the next night. I squeezed limp, empty clothes tightly- even in sleep, maybe in hopes of having them melt into my skin where I could hold onto them forever, the smell permeating into my nostrils every time I waved my arms about naturally, like when one smells there own body odor when casually moving about the day. I wouldn't mind it, not a bit. The scent would become natural, and one with my body. It wouldn't be so reoccurring that I would become familiar with it and soon ignore the smell all together, though, it would be (like the body odor) a bit surprising to smell and then I wouldn't be able to stop smelling it for a while. Quick bursts of scent throughout the day. Sounds like a slogan for some laundry detergent commercial where they're knowingly sexist and always imply that only women clean clothes. -I thought for a moment I was dreaming, and I could have sworn I was, but then again, I'm always in a dream. Never awake, always drifting, but of course this time would be just a bit different from the others and the tides in my body would come and go more frequently (my brain is the moon). Quick bursts of neurons throughout the day. Lights pulsing, like the electronic lights in my room (which don't scare me). Again, this night will repeat itself in my head and what many people believe to be reality for quite sometime, until my fuel runs low- but I'd surely refill it through daring moves and empty abodes filled with other vacant clothes. Let's just hope everyone else keeps their windows open for other weary souls. (Sorry, no "artwork" today).

Doodles

2012-03-20T13:56:00.000-07:00

When I close my eyes, I am able to create wind. The kind you can actually see and the kind that feels familiar, like a friend guiding you home. Lovely pinks and purples and reds with tiny hints of blue, the kind you'd only see in a painting or in a children's book. Sometimes I'd see little flakes of debris in the wind and I would even see small feathers produced by juvenile birds that shed their down, in which defines their ascension into adulthood. That's what I'm trying to do; shed my down, but I can't really think about that now, because I'm too focused on the wind. It's beautiful; what an understatement. It's blowing perfectly towards me so that my hair is brushed past my face, instead of annoyingly breathing on the back of my neck and pushing all my circley curls into my irises. I feel that maybe if I stare too long, those pinks, purples, reds, and hints of blues will burn themselves into my eyes, and they will be forever swirling around in my head. I wouldn't mind. Blowing away manifesting thoughts or any that I stored away somewhere throughout the recesses of my brain. Now all I can hear is a droning howl; the kind that makes you shut your windows or comment on how strong the wind is today in order to make small talk with some stranger that will most likely mean nothing to you or contribute to your life on a substantial spectrum. Become the wind- I'm trying, but I can't seem to ditch this shell of a body. Too heavy. I wish my bones were hollow, like a bird's. I know that I would caress any object I came across if I were the wind. I would swirl around it, defining its shapes and curves. It wouldn't matter what it was, for the wind isn't bias. Maybe someday I will become the wind. We all do eventually.

Collecting Memories

2012-03-17T20:31:00.001-07:00

There is really something quite fascinating when it comes to remembering things.Nostalgia- the burning, hazy sensation you get in your head that spreads throughout your whole body and even your eyes become captivated and try to recreate the images you once saw. I love to remember things although it makes me a bit depressed and I start to dwell on things that have already passed; the “innocence“ I once possessed, the blatant but accepted ignorance I had towards the world and all the shit that actually happens in it. I could sit in my thoughts forever, just wishing, and never really getting anywhere. But, what I find more depressing than dwelling in my memories is dwelling in others'. I know that might sound odd, but somehow when someone tells me a memory of theirs my head gets kind of silly: “So this is my memory now?“ And I start feeling that hazy nostalgic feeling, and my eyes blur and try to recreate that other person's memory sometimes through their eyes and sometimes as if it was really mine all along. It's frustrating at times, and I just want to get in their head and feel their memories as my own.
For example, today my lovely younger sister was confiding in me about her first boyfriend (which is kind of adorable, but being the cynical person I am, it makes me a bit sad because I know that she'll go through a lot of unnecessary relationship shit as she gets older). I was looking deeply into her big blue eyes and I, as weird as this sounds, was lost in them. It was a nice feeling of detachment, but as soon as I stopped recreating a memory in my own head that was actually hers, I longed to bang my head into hers and copy+paste that memory into my mind. I often feel this way, and I don't particularly know why. One thing I do know is that I really wish I had a Pensieve.

Introductions

2012-03-17T05:49:00.001-07:00

Salutations, people of the inter-webs.
I would like to take you all on a journey into my mind. It might not always make sense or be awesomely captivating all the time, but that is reality. Usually things are quite boring. Which I guess is my reason for starting this blog, also because I love writing and want an outlet to spray my flowing letter juices onto. I have the tendency to be a bit vulgar and opinionated, so I apologize ahead of time if any of my content offends you. I wish to remain anonymous, so I'll go by K. It's not all that creative, but it's rather simplistic and I am satisfied with it. What you can expect from this blog is a whole lot of random posts that probably won't really connect with each other as well as mediocre doodles, my shitty handwriting font, and hopefully things that will entertain at least a few people. I might also throw in a couple reviews here and there, but that's only if I feel fancy and sophisticated. If you have any suggestions/questions/etc. feel free to contact me at my given email address.