Loch Kness

2012-01-31T13:09:00.004-06:00

Why is the impulse to create always greatest when I'm supposed to be doing homework?

Thoughts everywhere and explosive.

sloths.
rings.
love.
hawaii.
flow.
hip hop.
emotion running rampant.

---

Trying to keep head above water until I can cut down on work hours and focus on school. The volume of material I'm supposed to be learning this semester is staggering.

Behavior Principles II is the second half of an introductory course, which means new material but lots of practice with learning it.

Survey of Behavior Analysis Literature means reading, dissecting, analyzing, summarizing, and presenting feedback on several scientific articles per week, then developing my own experimental study.

Physiopsychology is rote memorization of a whole lotta material, which will hopefully lead to developing an intimate understanding of complex biological processes that I'm largely unfamiliar with.

Volunteer program planning & management, pff, the concept of me managing people is beyond laughable and reading the textbook makes my eyes cross and brain ache. I had no idea what I was getting into with that class, and moving beyond superficial, conceptual thinking to grownup "these are the multiple factors that people must consider and take into account when they're in the real world/business sector of nonprofit management" makes me wanna just go lay down in the grass and stare at bugs for a little while.

---

Moving again.
this time moving in with Derek, after two months at my current place
bloody hell I don't want to re-pack all my books and stones and wall hangings
but I do want to wake up next to D every day and go home to him + dogs
and this time we're staying put in one place for as long as possible
because I've moved 6 times in 3.5 years
and, being an Army brat, I'm pretty much over the novelty of "look! a new house!"

---

Claire, my brindle square-headed baby girl, finally went to her new home. She's living with my dad, which is terrific. He needed a dog. She needed a family. Hard to let go, though, even with the stress of raising a puppy.

Fostering a dog is like getting a tattoo. I'll do it again when I forget how much it hurts.

---

what's the word for the emotion you feel when you remember someone fondly but never want to deal with them again? is this one of those "blended emotions" I keep hearing about?

---

I don't blog about Derek much. Several reasons for that, I think. Respecting his privacy. Paranoia about my own privacy. Up till a few months ago, trying to maintain independent lives. (Pendulum swing, ya know, after last srs relationship.) Not wanting to brag too much. Having a hard time believing that a relationship could be so easy. Talking about feelings isn't one of my strengths.

He's a brilliant, goofy, considerate man, and he makes me want to be a better person.

---

alarming how quickly words build up
i'm not done yet
want to transcribe conversations
material for later
noms for thought
some of which are way too heavy to be anything but a full meal

I don't know where this came from
No desire to write for months
and now
IT'S EVERYWHERE
ALL THE TIME
MUST COMMUNICATE
gotta record fleeting thoughts before they ping off in the distance
a conceit to compare 'em to fireworks, stunning flashes of inspiration that disappear unless captured on film
or pixel
Not that they're necessarily profound
but they feel crucial, that moment,
like a flash of light
what did that illuminate?
what the hell was that?
turn it on again so I can get a better look
because that might change my course
and I'm sick of fumbling around in the dark, smacking into things

and these lightbulb flickers feel important
I'll just keep taking notes

---

the stomach-twisting feeling I got, seeing hands go up after my reckless question,
vindication horror fury,
and SEE, motherfucker? this is why it's a problem
because we don't talk about this shit unless we're three or five drinks in, surrounded by other women,
because we've all lived through it
and watching that horror dawn over someone else
when what we were saying finally sunk in
goosebumps
but we'll talk about that later

---

Filling out a lease app and encountering a fill-in-the-blank for hair color. "Pink." Squee.

---

so much more rattling through brain. Must get to class. RAAAAAAARGH YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE LAST OF ME, INTERNET.

2012-01-24T21:12:00.006-06:00

friend-to-lover, that's easy

that spark
that intent
that sideways glance glimmer smirk knowing
that you want me I see
that I want you back
that no-longer-hidden no-longer-disguised
- oh we're serious about this, aren't we? well, shit.

when teasing isn't anymore
when we need those joking promises fulfilled
when we can't breathe until we've had more than just-that-taste
just a hint

no
give me everything
give me all you have
and give it to me now now now now now

but the lover-to-friend
that's a considerably more difficult conversion

that's emotion
sharing faults
showing fears
needing something that can't be satisfied by sultry gaze and tangled limbs
but that scary scary spark that makes memories
out of long nights curled up under sheets
not just here-and-now, this-is-warm-and-pleasant

but
that
i need you
to breathe for me when I forget the in-out-in
to be weak for me so I can be strong for you
to push me out of complacency
to ease me through terror
to break down so I can whip out the krazy-glue
and make this work
somehow
because I can live without you
but I don't want to

because you inspire and prod and tease and cajole and comfort
because you are beauty incarnate, michaelangelo-perfect proportioned muscles
because you search incessantly for knowledge
because you are patient and gentle
because you are truthful to me and true to yourself
because you have eyes only for me
because you're loving and loveful
and the way you smile at me makes me want to be a better person
and I can't not love you

believe me, I tried
believing it would be easier to stay distant
to stay arms-length, away from connection and vulnerability and intimacy
but you undid me
accidentally
and I love you more for it

and I want to be your lover
I want to be your wife
I want to be forever
I want to be your life

and I'm willing to accept the voice of statistics, experience, media,
because this is preemptive triumph
and you're worth fighting for
and we're both obnoxious statistic-trumping contrarians
who enjoy snorting and proving 'em wrong

so yeah, it can be done
and we'll do it
gleefully
wildly
constantly
until they admit we've got something special
and we won't hear their ironic golf-claps
over thunderous orgasms, joyous yells, howling kids, roaring plane engines, and that distinctive sound of boxes of glassware dropped and shattering
and we'll shrug
and grin
and continue our glorious life together

because I want to watch our dreams blossom
and I want to count your curly grays growing
and I want to soothe your aching joints
and I want this

I want us
together

Adventure, walls, challenge
I want it all
only with you

2012-01-22T21:12:00.001-06:00

When I am with you, we stay up all night.
When you're not here, I can't go to sleep.

Praise God for these two insomnias!
And the difference between them.

The minute I heard my first love story
I started looking for you, not knowing
how blind that was.

Lovers don't finally meet somewhere.
They're in each other all along.

- Rumi

2011-12-01T19:39:00.002-06:00

Ah, fall. Late autumn. Early winter. Whatever.

Time for transitions.

At least this time it's at the END of the semester, not the beginning.

New place to live! A few blocks from current place. I'll be chillin' in one room of a three-bedroom house. Hoping to keep costs low since Pattywhack will be moving north with his brother and I can't afford to room with them. I also adore my current neighborhood and I'm reluctant to leave.

But it's still moving. Again.

Maybe I'll buy a Kindle so I can stop hauling so many hundreds of pounds of books from place to place.

...nah.

New job!, I moved to another vet clinic down the street from the old one. The difference in my sanity and happiness is breathtaking. I haven't said much about the old job here, in case old boss was stalking me. It wouldn't surprise me. Let's just say she's a psychotic draconian madwoman and leave it at that. You know me. I have fucking nerves of steel. She told me I had to start working more hours there, and I started crying. For someone as perennially chipper and "let's make the best of it!" as me, that is a very, very bad sign.

But the new job! Awesome people! A more down-to-earth clientèle! I get to DO STUFF again! Like drawing blood and cleaning wounds and gentling scared dogs and prepping for surgeries and YAY!

Sometime during the past year, the idea that "I'm damned good at my job" was battered into oblivion as I was criticized for mistakes I didn't make, corrected for not following policy introduced then retracted then re-introduced, and then yelled at for attempting to anticipate the whims of my higher-ups. I became another anxious peon, afraid to act independently. I forgot how many things I can DO. And DO WELL. Yeah, call it the classic Protestant work ethic, but I genuinely like working and being useful and making a difference. New job? I feel like I'm doing all of these things. The atmosphere is warm and helpful, not toxic and neurotic. My coworkers are puzzled by my flinchiness. I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for my boss to directly contradict herself from one statement to the next. So far? They like me. I've gotten more positive feedback and genuine compliments in the past couple weeks than I've had in a year. And no one is snarky, nasty, unhelpful, whiny, sarcastic, or mean. It's night and motherfucking sunshiney day.

I can breathe again.

Now, as soon as this foster puppy goes to her new home and I finish up this (absolutely delightful and awesome-tastic) semester, I'm going to sleep for a week.

2011-10-14T23:58:00.003-05:00

Made the mistake of walking less than half a mile by myself after dark on a Friday night.
Maybe I take it for granted that my usual companions, two large dogs, are effective deterrents.
Maybe more people are drunk at this hour of the night.

But fellas, here's a life tip:

Don't talk to an unknown woman walking alone at night.
Don't try to make eye contact.
Don't try to initiate conversation.

Just leave her the fuck alone.

She does not want to be your friend, or your girl, or your one night stand.
You should safely assume this until she verbally tells you otherwise.
You are not entitled to her attention, and she is not obligated to smile sweetly as she tolerates yours.

I'm sure you're a kind, friendly, harmless guy, but you know what? Until proven otherwise, you're Schrodinger's rapist.

In a fifteen-minute walk:

"Night, sweetie." - dude at corner of bar

"Hey, hoodie!" - from dude leaning out of car window

"'Sup, mama?" - from guy selling bratwurst on street corner

"Hey." - random guy

"Hey." - other random guy

"Hey, how you doin'?" - random guy walking opposite way

"Hiii." - random guy

"Hey, where you goin'?" - random guy on street

So. Um. Yeah.

This is not about my perceived attractiveness or lack thereof. Every woman I've talked to deals with this shit.
This is not about whether I was dressed provocatively in some black sweatpants and a zipped-up hoodie.

This is about me feeling alone and vulnerable while walking four blocks from my house.
This is about my independence and safety automatically being compromised by the fact that I'm female.

I'll try writing intelligently about this later.
But for now?
Aforementioned quoted gentlemen, go fuck yourselves.

2011-09-08T21:56:00.003-05:00

"Busy" is a poor excuse. I've been blank. Expending my mental energy elsewhere. Not enough whirring thoughts left to document here.

Part of it's the job, which I'll refrain from labeling "soul-sucking." It's 40+ hours a week of intensely demanding mental labor. With puppies.

School just started, too. First semester of UNT is going swimmingly. Professors are all complete badasses. The classes I'm taking all fascinate me - behavior and culture. I leave campus weary, satisfied, curious, and eager for more.

Action-packed summer. New Mexico. Rock climbing. Derek. Adventures. The longest vacation I've been on in my adult life (FIVE DAYS!!). Seattle. Family. Music. Foster puppies. Hula hooping. Parties. Surviving month-long stretches of 100+ degrees. Eating as much watermelon as humanly possible.

...yeah, nothin' profound will make its way here tonight.

Distracted by studies of the USA from an anthropological perspective, articles on rape culture, why the hell is one of my raspboras bloated and how do I fix it, do I have any clean scrubs to wear tomorrow, where is that one thingy wait which one wait what was I looking for again?

2011-07-25T20:58:00.003-05:00

Plan for the night, successfully carried out as of 8:58PM:

Unpack from VACATION!!
Snuggle all fuzzy things!
Stare lovingly at aquatic creatures!
Wash stinky laundry!
Find comestibles!
Ingest said comestibles!
Put on noisy bass-thumping music and dance with hula hoop till panting, slick with sweat, and a little dizzy!
Kick back with a glass of chilled Riesling, peruse webcomics, read poetry book purchased last month!
End up drinking too much wine and hollering things like, "I REQUIRE PEANUT BUTTER FOR SURVIVAL!! YET I LACK PROPER UTENSILS!!" at the dogs, who respond with full-body wags and joyful leaps of encouragement!

YES!
I CAN EXECUTE AND FOLLOW A PLAN!!
...MORE WINE!! AND DANCING!!

2011-05-20T00:43:00.004-05:00

1. Adrenaline thrums through my veins, and I'm shaking with the effort of trying to reign in my aggression. Watching the cycle repeat itself. I've gotta leave the building, now, before I bloody my fist on his mouth.

2. Why do you like me so much? I'm not complaining - it makes my heart happy - but I don't know what I did to earn your affection.

3. I hate having secrets. They're tedious. My attention span's too short to remember what I'm allowed to talk about. Honesty is much easier.

4. Caught in some weird limbo between accidental confidante and nodding acquaintance who happened to fuck, on and off, for a long time. What now?

5. Watching the balance of power shift is fascinating, especially when it's shifted suddenly and dramatically in my favor. Fancy that.

2011-05-19T20:58:00.003-05:00

Still startled by how much it hurts to remember that he's gone.

It's a visceral ache, felt deep in my chest, and it hurts every time I stop to think about it.

Coming to terms with the loss of someone who touched me deeply, changed the course of my life, gave me courage and comfort. I can only imagine how his family and closest friends must feel.

This is where I'd usually cheapen the sentiment with an offhand comment about being a fangirl, but tonight I just don't have it in me.

Growth, evolution, inspiration - draw what I can from your words and realize your legacy.
You haven't earned a peaceful rest.
You're still my hero.

2011-05-11T20:13:00.000-05:00

So I guess it's official:
I have my associate's degree.
I'm starting at UNT this fall.
And yes, this IS a big deal.

I dropped out of school when I was 18, moved in with an unsavory individual, got out of one toxic relationship and bounced into another one that lasted nearly five years. I got a car, broke up with him, moved out on my own.

Lost fifty pounds. Started taking classes again. Took a full course load while working full time, re-took all the classes I bombed the first time around, and got straight A's on everything. Made some amazing friends. Walked into three different jobs and said, "Hi! Can I work here?" without a resume.

I'm elated, defiant, and relieved.

BOOYEAH, BITCHES.

2011-04-24T21:37:00.002-05:00

One of these days I'll learn to stop comparing my accomplishments to those of others. Always makes me feel like shit.

Overall, though, it was a wonderful day.

2011-04-19T04:36:00.001-05:00

dear mind,

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP
GO TO SLEEP
ARGH

WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU

2011-03-26T17:17:00.006-05:00

Taking a little time to breathe.*

The next step? Allowing enthusiasm & obsession, and shrugging off this paranoid self-consciousness. Because, really, no one's all that surprised when I start babbling about the evolutionary adaptations of manatee lips, or the ineffable coolness of Pseudomugil gertrudae. (Spiffy little yellow-finned blue-eyed fish whose pectoral fins look like they're placed much higher than they should be. etc etc etc.)

Why does this feel so bloody revolutionary, allowing myself to like what I like? Without self-stigmatization?

*and by "taking time to breathe," I mean my body's like, "Hey! You! DUMBASS. You should CHILL and maybe get some REST." So pushy, bodies. Imposing physical limitations when you've got better things to do than worry about petty bullshit like when you last ate.

2011-02-22T20:57:00.004-06:00

Marshmallows would catch fire and melt into charred blackened goo puddles at my touch right about now.

So angry.

I can't organize my thoughts into articulate arguments right now, so strong is my gut reaction to this. Must pull back. Must breathe. Must look at things logically, recognize the potential for emotional manipulation on both sides.

What, you ask, is she nattering on about THIS time?

The House of Representatives is bandying about the idea of cutting ALL funding to Planned Parenthood. Yes, that's right, the organization that provides low- or no-cost counseling (on relationships, pregnancy, sexual identity, at-risk youth, etc), sex education, and birth control to millions of people who wouldn't otherwise have access to basic information on sex.

Universal human truth: people are going to fuck.

People have been fucking. People will continue to fuck.

And when you're an inexperienced, love-crazed, hormone-fueled young adult, your brain is incapable of comprehending long-term consequences. Your PREFRONTAL CORTEX is still BUILDING ITSELF until you're in your mid-twenties. That little grey chunk of the brain that allows you to consider your entire future more valid than immediate rewards? It's functionally nonexistent. It's offline. It's a bunch of Legos scattered on the floor, not a complex web of interdependent neurons working to establish the logic of causality.

My point?

Cutting funding to Planned Parenthood is an extraordinarily bad idea. As it stands now, their website is a reliable source of open information about sexuality and reproductive health, body image issues, and birth control options. "Abstinence-only sex education" is horseshit. It's also a contradiction in terms, as "don't do it or you'll have unwanted babies and get syphilis and die" hardly qualifies as education. (That's currently the overwhelming majority of the Texas state sexual education curriculum. Schools are not required to give medically accurate information to students in health classes. The most recent bill introduced in Texas legislature that would require information to, y'know, be CORRECT? It died in committee last year.)

More on this later. Too riled up now. Looks like I'll be writing another paper on this, just because it's one of the things I'm happy to research rabidly for hours on end.

2011-02-17T22:08:00.003-06:00

TODAY'S BLAZE BATTLE between me and Andy started out as impromptu silly rhymes and turned into some epic hip-hop influenced back-and-forth text freestyling. Best read aloud for full comedic effect. Alas, I had to cut it short because I had to get back to work, but I was getting my ass handed to me anyway.

M: Dude. Need more word battles so my brain doesn't wither.

A: OK I'll be frank like a tank in a bank that's dank and rank but not blank

M: Whee! I'll thank you, not shank you, since my hopes sank when I drank that last cup. Public service announcement: no wank, spank, or yank. But pranks are okay.

A: way to crank out that clank-like plank of stank that you call your blank stare of a rebuttal message. I shrank from the lank comments my mind drank from the message you sent, so I can't thank or bank on your continued to shrank from your challenge

M: I gotta step up my game, it's been too tame and kinda lame. I'm ashamed. How am I supposed to establish fame? Oh I'll reclaim my honor, spit my name and maim your game, blame you for corrupting my filename. This dame's aflame :p

A: What a dame you came with your lame game of shame that blames the fame of my name in vain you shall maim your tame domain

M: I'll drink champagne, kick back stay sane, maintain my flame, and conquer your domain. You'll wince in pain when you hear my name as I claim your fame.

A: You will be slain by my profane and insane drain on your brain, for this disdain that I train on your domain will in the end contain no blame

M: I win by default, go study Gestalt, I'll see you tonight for 'ritas and salt

2011-02-09T13:49:00.010-06:00

wine on an empty stomach is my excuse for sloppy syntax and inconsistent punctuation.
on becoming an atheist:

It's been a long time coming. From having my faith broken down in religion (in general: "they're all wrong! mine MUST be right!" and having that fallacy beaten out of my brain in many capacities... just feels arrogant) to exploring alternates,

clinging to the concept of God felt more important to me than the idea itself. I had to find justifications to believe what I felt, like letting go of God was the ultimate disgrace and insult, an irredeemable affront to the sensibility of humankind at large.

But once I stopped trying to find ways to fit God into my worldview (god is all, god is breath and the animating force, god is the underlying invisible force that makes electrons go zoom) and stopped trying to find clever turns of phrase to describe what I felt I should believe, it all
just

fell
away...

No regret, no resentment, no bitterness or anger. If there is a God, if God is all the things I've hoped, he/she/it certainly won't mind that I've stopped personalizing it.

Not having a celestial Santa Claus, an ethereal unknowable scapegoat, throws my perception of life into crystalline clarity.

(Oh, there's no Supreme Being in charge of all of this? Well no fuckin'
WONDER!)

God is an excuse. God is what we turn to when we don't understand, can't comprehend, don't want to face the idea that we are utterly alone and this is all we have.

God is comfort. God has a higher plan, one that we mere mortals dare not question, but it's okay in the end because whatever cruel and hideous things we've been subjected to are meant to strengthen us, and it's all for a reason.

No.

Life just... sucks sometimes. And we deal with it. Life's not fair, never has been, never will be. Learn what you can, not because it's a lesson deliberately given to you, but because you can always use knowledge, apply it next time, pass on wisdom to someone who's going through the same thing years down the road.

God is an excuse. I don't have to take risks, do things that terrify me, stick my neck out, piss people off in pursuit of something monumental and earth-shaking and controversial, because none of this really matters if you're assured an afterlife. This Earth is just a shadow of His Heavenly Kingdom, right? Keep your head down and pay lip service and tithe to your region's predominant belief system and you'll more than likely coast free in Heaven for eternity.

I'm sure this all sounds morbid and cynical, but it doesn't feel that way. Not at all.

It feels like... a relief. Knowing that no one's listening when I shake my fist at the cosmos and scream "WHYYYYYYYYYYY!?!?!" motivates me to get off my ass and do something myself instead of waiting around for permission or divine intervention.

This is what it feels like to take responsibility, to stop making excuses for your inaction and shitty life and unhappiness and procrastination.

This is all you have. THIS IS IT.

Grab Life by the throat. Make sweet sweet love to Life, emerge giggling breathless and drenched in sweat and musk. Mix some metaphors. Make your surroundings a little brighter, just by being there. You are not a transient candle flame, extinguished at the whim of a being greater than yourself.

You're friction and heat and breath and potential and the world is waiting to see what you're going to do.

"There is no God" doesn't feel like despair or giving up. It feels like... freedom? Renewed vigor and determination. There are no wrong choices, just choices. You're not going to accidentally slip up and roast forever. No one's breathing down your neck judging your actions, but you've still gotta choose carefully. You don't get a personal God who cares about your every action and gives you rewards (hallelujah, rockstar parking space! oh, my team won the Superbowl!! praise JAYZUS!!) according to your behavior. You're held accountable for your actions towards humanity at large by your loved ones, everyone who matters to you, and in the case of juries, people who don't.

(Really, what's a better deterrent, knowing that your wife would be devastated and leave you and take the kids if you fucked a hot sales rep on a business trip, or the thought of a few Our Fathers at confession?)

And is anyone else bothered by the bizarre horrific contradiction here? What kind of I Am That I Am would play favorites with a tiny group of people, elite by birth and not by virtue of action, and ignore the rest, granting petty requests and allowing the rest of this earth to wither and burn?

No more impotent rage. No more desperate prayers falling on deaf or distracted ears. No more baffling attempts to justify why a supposedly kind, attentive, loving god would allow starving pregnant mothers, malignant tumors, fatal car crashes, or child soldiers to exist.

It's just empty. And clean. And silent.

I don't feel lonely - I feel free.

It's just you and the world, my love, and you owe it to all of us to fucking shine, not shirk from responsibility, potential pain, difficult decisions.

C'mon. We're waiting.

2011-02-09T13:32:00.003-06:00

Dear brain,

Please cooperate.

You know I love you. I only want what's best for us, baby.

2011-02-06T13:32:00.007-06:00

The last thing I want to do is curl up on the couch with my textbook and read three more chapters.

The sun is back, after an interminable week of slippery sidewalks, iced-over bridges, and gray swollen skies.

I can't believe I used to be a Seattle kid, not the way I react to the sun after just a few days of sleet and rain. I'm careening through the house, luring the dogs into a game of chase, skittering & sliding across the hardwood floor, wrestling and bouncing and making a huge racket. I'm taking "study breaks," running hard around the block before hurling myself onto the couch, slush and mud soaking my jeans. And then! Another break to make more coffee!

Pattywhack loped out of his room this morning to find me at the kitchen table, already poring over textbook. "MEGAN! SOUTHWEST! CLOUDS!" he yelled, pointing at the front door. We've been roommates for a year so further words were unnecessary. I bounced up and we stepped outside. Wide, vividly surreal blue sky underneath dissolving patterns of clouds painted in a thousand subtle colors.

I wish I could better communicate the thrill, the surge of relief and glee at the sunlight glinting bright off patches of melting snow. It starts as delicate fluttering anticipation, watching rivulets carve their way through blocks of ice in the shadows. The anticipation builds, gaining momentum as I remember the joy of mild breezes and wildflowers and warm sun on bare arms. The yearning just grows, maddeningly inarticulate and inescapable, until I'm shaking with the need for release, the need to whoop and scream and leap and run and flirt and kick and dance until I collapse on the ground, giddy and spent and sated. Until tomorrow.

Checking out the theories behind psychological and physiological symptoms associated with spring fever, which seem to be concerned primarily with changing circadian rhythms and the effects of increased light on serotonin and melanin production. Oh, neurotransmitters, why must you make me wacky and horny and restless and dumb? (even moreso than usual?)

2011-02-01T20:02:00.013-06:00

I'm not sure what to do with this space. Over the years, my interest has waxed & waned, and this little corner of interwebz has been invaluable for me. Good for retaining sanity.

But it's so accidentally accessible. Hard to be as honest as I'd like to be when my grandmother could google my screen name and read about prior sexings, puppies, and my attempts at world domination.

What to do what to do.

OOOOH OOH OOH
snippets?
that's been awhile.

-Caleb laughed when I punctuated a statement by cracking my knuckles. Implied threats are funny coming from short girls wearing size 5 1/2 thrift-store pink Crocs.

-Sat on the dock out at White Rock Lake the other night with the dogs, basking in sunset and flowing currents and 68-degree loveliness.

-So strange, watching someone grow over the years. This slouching, awkward kid transformed into a lean, muscled man with close-cropped hair, wary eyes, and a reformed posture that brings him to 6'3. He's learned how to intimidate and how to charm, how to show just enough vulnerability to be accessible and appealing without losing the practiced aura of command. He hates it when I smirk and throw him a mock salute from across the room, behind the back of whoever he's charming. Which is, of course, why I do it.

-My ceiling is leaking. I have an upstairs neighbor. This is so totally not a good thing.

2011-01-29T00:22:00.000-06:00

So glad the temptation to share this blather with people has passed.

Sentence fragments are enough to trigger a cascade of jumbled emotions that I'd rather not try to pick apart for the entertainment of the illusory masses.

My dad keeps encouraging me to talk about my feelings.
We've been over this time and time again.
I'm not sure how to phrase, "GodDAMNit I DON'T LIKE talking about my feeeelings in ANY context!!" without it coming across as a personal attack or rejection of his efforts to help.

We've. been. OVER. this. I've tried, usually futilely, to explain to every person who's pressed me that I'm uncomfortable discussing certain feeeeelings. Surely that's evident here. I'd rather gnaw off my own earlobes than reveal how afraid I am that my mom's margin's won't be clear, or that my truck might just explode one day, or that I won't catch Yuri's symptoms soon enough to save him a third time.

You don't know (or want to know) about 85% of my life, yet you expect me to reveal what I perceive as personal weaknesses?

That's not how this works.

2011-01-27T06:39:00.004-06:00

Say what you will about the fetishism and violence of 30 Seconds to Mars' official video for "Hurricane." They got something right.

That part at 4:07 followed by the hair pull? Oh please yes.

2011-01-26T21:05:00.007-06:00

One of the dangers of working with animals (or campaigning for animals) is the inevitable alienation of a good chunk of the population.

Not everyone gets it.

The challenge is to reign in sentimentality and speak in the language of practicality, of dollars, while still getting what you want.

Flipped: sure, you may not be a warm and fuzzy "pet person," but your constituents are. Your inattention to this matter will make you quite unpopular if publicized.

Goal? Gaining authority.
Three employees are still on administrative leave, last time I checked, pending investigation into their animal cruelty cases. How are those cases coming along? BTW, the employees are Tyrone McGill, Charles Jackson, and Donnie Jones. Most online sources are kind enough to leave them unnamed. I'm not.

At this point I'm still trying to reconcile warring impulses. I want to bypass the chain of command, shelter supervisors, low-level managers put in place by friends in higher positions, etc, and be in a position of authority high enough to influence the city and change policies. However, I also enjoy working alone and not drawing attention to myself. Don't know how to do both.

Here, we've got the nutball with forearm tattoos, fiery conviction, and a pronounced distaste for bureaucracy and unearned authority. This does not necessarily bode well for staying in the shadows. Must remember that an attitude problem isn't always an asset.

2011-01-10T23:30:00.002-06:00

Just stumbled upon a throbbing, bass-infused version of Sarah McLachlan's "Silence." And I may have orgasmed just a little bit.

Whoa whoa whoooaaaaaaaaaa
I love having good speakers.
That is all.

2011-01-03T19:54:00.002-06:00

Sure, you could do all these grandiose things, but until you pick one thing and start moving towards it, you're doomed to blithering meandering daydreaming time-wasting mediocrity. Or maybe that's just me.

And so, I pop my neck, crack my knuckles, and plunge back in,
this time with a plan.

You can't have it all, they say.

Yeah?
Watch me.

2010-12-30T20:58:00.003-06:00

Dear sir,

I am editing your biography. You're using too many words.

----------

It has been said that I paint with clay. (by whom? how recently? what are you trying to accomplish with this statement? Elevation of finger mucking to something exquisite and fine?)

My work is unique and difficult to fit into any niche. (you and every other artist ever.) While paintings are traditionally two dimensional and three dimensional, my work contains elements of both. While it may not be possible in the scientific sense, or in the language of art speak (therefore UTTERLY IMPOSSIBLE, since we're relying on extremes to communicate here), my work is a reflection of a zone that exists between the second and third dimensions. This zone is not only reflected in the physical elements of my pieces, but also in the subject matter.

----------

The self-congratulatory wankery spirals out of control after this, I'm just too sleepy to snark it now. I swear I don't dislike art. I love art.

I just hate art-speak.

2010-12-22T23:55:00.007-06:00

Life is easier when you've got some nouns - try defining yourself by what you do and enjoying the experience.

I write. Have to. Allow thoughts to flow through my fingertips, nonsensical and pointless and yearning; this is a release for me. Expel these thoughts that rattle around in my skull, exhale them in order to breathe in something new and fresh.

Like it or not, your career defines you. Do anything for eight hours a day and it'll meld with your brain.

Kyeli asked me why I work with animals. I shrugged and grinned. "I can't not," I replied. She clapped, delighted. "I like that answer."

Maybe that's what's driving me so crazy about this new job. I'm trapped behind a counter, answering phones and typing numbers into a computer and smiling at everyone who walks in the door. I come home emotionally exhausted after keeping up the Hello Smile all day long.

I'm an introvert. Being around people all day long wipes me out. I come home and stare blankly at the computer screen, wolf down some dinner, and occasionally muster up the energy to run with the dogs.

And yes, I'm whining, but this is NOT what I'm supposed to be doing.

I volunteered to work kennels on Christmas morning at my old clinic. My official last day there. Had the opportunity to say goodbye to some of my favorite creatures, regular boarders I've gotten to know and adore over the last four years. Dutchess, the fat trundlebug Keeshond. Big Guy, a fawn pit bull mix with a permanent head tilt and a scar-pocked coat. Schysam, an old super-sweet Dachshund. I opened the cage and let Abby, a perenially freaked-out and fearful cat, sniff me. After boarding with us for years, she still only lets two people touch her, and I'm one of them. Took me forever to make friends with her, and I haven't seen her in months. After a couple hesitant sniffs, she rubbed her face hard against my hand. She mew-mewed at me with her tongue out, butted her head against me, and flopped over purring. Tangerine-sized lump in my throat realizing that she remembered me.

2010-12-16T21:11:00.001-06:00

Semester's over. Breakdown:

Final exam grades: 84, 92, 100, 100.
Final class grades: A, A, A, A.

Booyeah, bitches.

2010-12-06T21:37:00.002-06:00

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-
ck

These last few days of a semester are always the hardest.
I want this to be DONE and OVER. Sure, this has flown by, but the framework of class feels constraining and limiting and slow-paced.

I'm going a little crazy.

I want to dig my claws into the ground, entrench myself, claim something or someplace as mine and stop feeling so adrift. Enough being the dandelion fluff captured in the wind. I want to be the goddamn stubborn bloom that bursts forth and just won't die, no matter how many times it gets mowed over.

I want to go on adventures.
I want to be outside working and building things and exhausting myself.
I don't want to be behind a desk. Give me dirt smears and sweat stains and quivering muscles. Or give me something to ponder, something to solve. Let me have some space and solitude for just a little while and I'll learn, apply knowledge, rock your world, etc etc etc.
Fuck the system. Time to subvert it. I DON'T HAVE TIME TO WASTE. TOO MUCH TO DO.

I don't want to wait until I have a degree to be taken seriously.
I don't want to prove that I can play the game, appease or amuse professors and TAs to get the grades.
I don't want to waste my time on pointless busywork.

I'm capable of doing things that matter, and I'm capable NOW.

2010-12-05T16:29:00.010-06:00

When I'm overly caffeinated, I think dumb things, like... what would schadenfreude taste like?

(So Chris and Rachel just got married. I'm too busy and happy to waste much emotion on memories of them, so the news provoked a raised eyebrow and derisive snort and not much else. I'm mostly able to bypass my whiny wounded ego and wish them well in future endeavors. I said I loved him, wanted his happiness even at the expense of mine, all that self-sacrificing bullshit. That fire's long dead, but a few charred bits still smolder and flare up when the issue is actively thrust in my face. So, in response to a challenge that I couldn't write emo poetry even if I wanted to, I present this.)

Wedding Cake

Anticipation of your pain is enough
I'll roll your misery on my tongue
like Aztec chocolate bitter-spiced black,
melts in your mouth not in your hand

like I'd melt under your hands
meld and moan, dripping sweat searing nerves
remember the shimmering eloquence
of your hard fingers slapping my mouth

and what's a celebration
without a little human sacrifice,
my pulsing heart offered up to the gods
because her smile was like clouds parting,
sunlight surging through
and the earth would stop spinning
if ever she stopped grinning

and my fondest wish is to smile
as that fiery passion corrupts
as your lies and silences build
screaming matches slammed doors scalding tears,
thrown shit barely missing your skull
as years crawl past

and I want you to wake up chained to cold and alone,
lust and illusion of intimacy dead
because her steel will and your jello spine
won't always mold so nicely

and her drunk confessions and wandering hands
won't always stay hush-hush
because I'm not the only one she's touched

2010-12-01T23:24:00.002-06:00

It's not enough - words crash against a barrier of clenched teeth and closed lips, and sooner or later one will slip out, and then the pressure will be too much and they'll come pouring out, forceful and unstoppable and they'll drown out all your rationalization and objections and noise.

It's getting there.
Pressure's building.
I can feel it, and I keep pushing at it, trying to stamp it back down, but it's not working so well anymore.

I need an outlet for these words and this energy.
I need to communicate.
Soon, soon, soon.

2010-12-01T18:12:00.002-06:00

sl;kfja;sdlkasd
AKJSSKLDJFHSDJFHMSNEFUEKJFHSDFKJSH
yes.
and THAT'S NOT ALL.

Life is, well, this.
Continually reinvented and misremembered and full of moments of soaring cloud highs and shattering griefs and long stretches of numbers and routines in between and during, and the theme lately is that

this
does
not
slow
down

This dizzying ride continues whether or not you acknowledge or participate. Life doesn't CARE if you've got finals next week, or if you're in a relationship that's falling to pieces, or if you're broke as hell and out of options. You can't slow down. You can't retreat.

Above all else, you can't give up.

Take a moment to breathe. Remember yourself. And then plunge back in.

2010-10-17T11:04:00.000-05:00

But when my soul steps to exit this frame
I will be reincarnated as
Rain

A 28-year-old rapper and lyricist named Micheal “Eyedea” Larsen was found dead in his home this morning.

The dawning dread that this was not a stunt, that this was really happening, sunk in as I was driving home, re-reading the “eyedeaandabilities” tweet at a red light. It was a gut-punch realization of shock and genuine grief.

He was singular as an artist and a rapper, balancing frustration and intellect and intense emotion. He was my gateway drug, the clever lyricist that led me to explore and fall madly, fiercely, passionately in love with independent and underground hip-hop. His songs became relief, comfort, challenge, and inspiration.

I remember kneeling on the carpeted concrete floor of Gamestop, paralyzed as I finally digested the words of this harsh-voiced smooth-flowing music that, up till then, had just been background noise. Sensory memories of pacing across the parking lot at work, tears streaming down my cheeks as I listened to “Walking” over and over and contemplated painful choice. Running through River Legacy to the cadence of his rap, the words thrumming in my head as my feet hit the path.

Saw him in concert twice. I remember talking to him before and after the show, shaking his hand. I made him laugh by telling him, “This is great! I’ve suppressed my inner squealing fangirl long enough to have an actual conversation with you!”

Can’t begin to list all the lyrics of his that have gripped my heart. If “rest in peace” is too much to ask, rest assured that you’ve affected thousands of people in ways we’re still trying to understand, and your voice will stay strong.

I see the hurt when I look into your eyes
How you struggle to hold it and keep it bundled inside
It drives a dull blade deep in my heart; it makes me want to cry
So I offer you a hand to help wash away the rainy skies
I’m running out of words, but I haven’t yet made my message clear
So if none of this makes sense, I just want you to know I’m here
As a musician, as a friend, as a teacher, as a student
To grow and realize that everything is in constant movement
Each problem that we face is just a part of this movement
It seems helpless, but if we stick together we’ll get through it
And return to the essence from which we’ve been uprooted
And wake humanity from these illusions
The second you can look into the sky and see your own reflection
You know you’re headed in the right direction
The river ride ain’t always smooth, but with it I live
And everything is perfect, just the way it is

We gotta learn to see the beauty in each moment of life
Everyone has different paths and we’re seeking the light
The world is divided between peasants and kings
But the truth is everybody’s looking for the same thing
Now I want you to know
The role you play is part of the whole
Without you it couldn’t be, and I mean that with compassion
So if you need anything, I mean anything at all
I’m here for you; all you gotta do is ask, man

2010-09-25T23:43:00.002-05:00

Oh! By the way! Got another job! Quit it already! Moving to another city by the end of next month because both roomies are leaving! Will be in Dallas with one roomie since the other one's moving across the country!

I'm still functioning as confidante for more people than I realize! I get to hear strange conflicting things!

Original job, four year anniversary was this week! My coworkers love me! w00t @ established value and being good at what I do!

Running every other day! Can't skip a day or I get all nutso and jittery from too much energy! Do you know how AMAZING it feels to have an overabundance of natural energy?!

Uh... major life events left and right? Does that sum it up? School's back in session and I'm taking four classes. So far straight As, naturally. D-man and I are still dating and happy. I've mostly finished sorting 184 GB of music on my external hard drive. One of my favorite movies finally came out on DVD. The animals are doing well. I tripped while running the other night and scraped/whacked the shit outta my knee and elbow before the super-ninja-reflexive roll kicked in, and I popped back up from the fall like "dude wtf?!" Forgot how much I like mixing nonfat Greek yogurt with granola and fresh fruit. My arms and hands are covered with battle scars, which I'm kinda getting used to. Public perception of me still seems to be, "She's tiny and smiley and mighty!," which I'm alright with.

2010-09-25T23:24:00.001-05:00

Lesson:

recognition
rewiring pain as sensation
and intensity,
which aren't necessarily to be avoided

Why, you ask, am I so enamored with life? Any moment it could be ripped away.
That's why -
I am aware, acutely aware, of the fragility of these moments.

2010-09-25T23:22:00.000-05:00

I was accused of being a robot again.
For some reason, that gets under my skin more than anything else I can think of.

Insult my intelligence?
I'll laugh in your face.

Call me a whore?
Nah, honey, I'm a slut. I don't charge.

Bust out yo mama lines?
My mom kicks ass and is quite capable of refuting your silly claims.

But call me cold or unfeeling, and I'll rage off the fucking handle. I'm blessedly emotionally stable, and I can decide what's worth getting upset about. I also don't take everything personally, which makes perceived slights a non-issue. (Besides, if you're gonna be too passive-aggressive to criticize me openly, you aren't worth a reaction.)

Let's talk for a minute, shall we, about why I think you're overreacting to my non-reaction.

1. I don't give a shit about your drama.
2. I will never be in the mood to listen to you bitch about minor annoyances, including your paranoia of your roommate taking your socks outta the dryer.
3. I don't cater to histrionic attention-seeking behavior. Any reaction is generally construed as encouragement, and I'd prefer to extinguish your whiny narcissism.
4. I've had an emotionally trying day already, and I don't have the energy to devote to placating your twitchy ego.

Maybe I'm being too harsh. Maybe I'm being unnecessarily snippy due to fatigue and my own whininess.

Maybe it's because I deal with enough daily that I don't tell you about. I can start telling you about it, if you want, since I was told recently that venting was healthy!

Let's see. There's the little girl who walked up to the clinic carrying a 20-lb puppy because her mother wouldn't allow the sick dog in her car. The vet had already gone for the day, I tried to explain to her, and he's going out of town for the weekend. She put the puppy down while she listened. The puppy swayed, limp and lethargic, and vomited on the sidewalk. Bloody diarrhea plastered around his rear, smeared onto his fur. The smell hit me - parvo has a distinct odor. Why do I have to tell this poor girl that it's too late for anything but mercy, that her dog's going to be dead in a few hours, that it's a fucking excruciating death? I offer to drive her to the emergency clinic, or to call her mother, or anything, but she gathers up her limp charge, explaining mama said they've got no money for a damn dog. I follow her in my truck to make sure she gets home safely, and the road is hazey from the unshed tears blurring my vision.

Or hey, there's the coworker whose daughter is in rehab with her one-year-old son, trying to kick a drug addiction and be a good mother.

Oh look! Behind door number three, we've got the three-month-old kitten who crashed and died under anesthesia, even with constant monitoring!

Don't forget, there are other people in my life. Who mean everything to me. They aren't doing so hot, and I miss them, and I want to give them as much of my attention and time and love as possible, and I can't give them nearly the support I wish I could.

And last, I've got my own issues that I'm trying my damndest to deal with: irrational, near-crippling fears and trust issues and moving again within a month and hit-the-ground-running job training and back in school and learning to balance two jobs plus class and a slowly-dying truck, among other things.

So, in summary: Don't insult me, or assume that I'm a frigid cunt because I'm unwilling to listen to you bitch incessantly about things that don't matter. I have a life outside you, and I'd encourage you to develop the same.

2010-09-25T18:56:00.003-05:00

Oh, warning, references to teh seXX0rz ahead. Deal with it.

Just needed time to percolate. Everything I've written lately has been just for me. Focus has been outward, primarily on relationships. One of the problems with casual sex is that it rarely stays that way for long, which means you've gotta continually redefine roles and, if need be, establish or reinforce new boundaries. I ended up hanging out with two old friends on Wednesday, former lovers. Both of them said something to the effect of, "Well, this has been lovely, but you should leave before I do something inappropriate."

I was floored.

I'm not good at continuums. My mind processes things in deliberate chunks - that was then, this is now, and these things don't connect in my head without conscious effort. One of the perks of having a short attention span, I guess--every encounter is fresh and new and not a continuation of anything. (This may also be why I have such issues with familiarity.)

So I guess I just wasn't expecting it? They've both known me for several years. (For the purpose of this paragraph, they shall be Red vs Blue!) Red and I will never be good friends; I wouldn't dare be alone in a room with him. Blue is a different story, partly because we denied any attraction for so long. He tested the waters, but backed off immediately when I glanced at him. I didn't have to ask him to stop. Knowing that he values my friendship makes things easier, but I'm not sure how things will play out. Need to establish trust before I allow myself to get close. I trust myself, but I don't want to lose faith in someone else for trying something stupid.

This was my drug for so long, the hip-sway seduction, sweat and smoke and skirting around taboos and the sureness of fingers and that instant when you know there's no turning back. I claim I don't play games, but the truth is I play the game: I play to win, and I cheat ruthlessly.

Painfully achingly slowly, I'm getting my confidence back. I've been haphazardly working on my joke-memoir, which will never be published, but it's good to document these crazy painful things to avoid them in the future. Notes on and to past lovers, mostly, as this helps me track patterns and not repeat mistakes. This whole paragraph is an excuse to just write further without any kind of order or structure, so here ya go. (I love the word "lovers." It's horribly under-utilized, and more gentle and accurate than "fuck buddies" or "dudes I hooked up with" or "friends with benefits." These words feel too crude for the bonds that can be forged through physical intimacy.)

- Transience, for-the-moment-ness, the forehead kisses and between-sheets stolen time and teasing smiles and fingers grasping. Your hands seeking mine, in the car, behind our backs, as we walk. It's not just the heat from your body I crave - melting warmth, beads of sweat forming on twined limbs, heat of the heavy-lidded knowing smiles and hidden caresses that make my nerves flare, leaving a party early and not caring that everyone's noticed. It's the comfort, the deep sigh as we collapse into each other's arms. Settling into your chest, arms wrapped tight around you, head on your shoulder, as we dare to rely on one another for something outside of sex. Sex is easy. Talking is a little harder. Feeling, now that's terrifying.

There was a moment last night where we just stared at each other, and I can't articulate what passed between us. For me, it was - oh shit. I love you. And you could hurt me.

I'm not easily hurt. By anyone. I don't give a damn enough to allow others to wound me. You're different, though - somewhere early on I slipped up and started caring about you, valuing your thoughts and opinions and feelings. So now I seek balance, trying to relinquish the need to control, fighting the urge to break up with you out of fear. Echoes of past; not wanting to be a burden. Still gun-shy and wary of falling hard and fast, able to control the descent better than is probably healthy. Breathing through this, letting it be. Enjoying the now without demanding more or fearing less.

- Saudade, wandering lover, is what I feel. You were an unreal ideal. We knew this handful of moments were all we'd get, and we made the most of them. Of course I loved you - you didn't give me a choice, with your brilliant sunshine smile and enthusiasm and surety. You will be a defining moment for me, a memory of quiet joy and what could be, in any chance encounter.

- Oh, I know that look. I can recognize that anywhere. You want to taste this swagger, dominate these curves, lick the confidence from my lips and leave me breathless and shaking. You forget - I'm in control. Even on my back, pinned and moaning, I'm in control, and I decide if you're worthy.

- I turn away, trying not to blush when your shirt comes off. Last time I watched your muscles twist like that, it was because you were craning your neck back to admire the red marks where my nails bit into your skin. Same lean frame, new colors this time.

- I've never called you baby, except in the ironic way that usually means I'm about to eviscerate you. What makes you think I'm going to start now?

2010-09-20T20:26:00.005-05:00

Because I heard it for the first time today, and I still don't understand why it resonated so deeply. To anyone I've loved:

I got the devil on my back
but love in my heart
I've got heaven in my mind
but only earthly thoughts

I see you clearly
I see you clearly.

These words are your words and mine
we fall from grace sometimes
let's paint these skies blue
cover to cover
I see signs of happiness.

2010-09-06T22:55:00.002-05:00

And then, BLAM, just like that, words come tumbling out of my head and pouring through my fingertips and I'm powerless to stop this flood of ideas and concepts and I'm overwhelmed by the need to document, to communicate, to remember everything. Texting notes to myself at red lights, pulling out my notebook in the middle of the grocery store to record some mundane and disjointed phrase, once again my brain is on fire. Not sure what reignited the spark. Have been craving solitude and quiet and hide-away-ness, and finally got it this weekend. Still tired. Still sort of overwhelmed by the magnitude of what I've gotten myself into. Still working to combat laziness and shyness and glum nothin'-really-matters. But underneath-- underneath it all is this rolling-up-sleeves plunging-in, this cackling glee, this roiling molten flow of energy, this insatiable glowing fiery core of everything I strive to be.

That's what takes over the rest of my brain, shatters fear like fireworks, pushes me out of sated and complacent, busts through resistance, leaves me gasping and eager and ready.

I'm the agent of chaos, the pretty little voice that whispers, why not, it couldn't hurt too much, let's do this, let's do this now now now...

2010-08-28T20:36:00.003-05:00

"Dude1" and "Dude2" are now friends with "Dude3," Facebook tells me.
My first thought?
OH GOD I'VE SLEPT WITH ALL THREE OF YOU.

2010-08-25T22:24:00.002-05:00

Another one of those days where I notice smears of blood on my arms and have NO idea if it's mine or where it came from.

Sigh. That's what hydrogen peroxide is for.

2010-08-13T23:11:00.001-05:00

.../watching clips of the new season of The Boondocks, since I don't have Adult Swim.

Words cannot express how much I FUCKING LOVE THIS SHOW.

2010-08-13T18:52:00.000-05:00

I’ve tried to verbalize it before, but I’m still utterly at a loss to explain how hip-hop affects me. I’m talking good, independent, sometimes underground hip-hop. Sage Francis, Eyedea & Abilities, Oddjobs, Macklemore, Lifesavas, Atmosphere, El-P, Metermaids, Aesop Rock, POS, Alias, Busdriver, Brother Ali, Common Market, Scroobius Pip, Danger Mouse, Jurassic 5, Themselves, Lyrics Born, Rhymefest… I could go on.

At its best, it’s intricate rhymes laced together over fluid thudding beats. Statements resonate with me more deeply when spoken than sung. The distracting, atmospheric beauty of melody is stripped away, and plain words are left, backed by thumping beats that echo the steady rhythm of your heart. See, I get all silly.

My favorites are the confessional, positive, revelatory; the stuff where the artists are trying to communicate as well as entertain. It’s poetic, sure, but it’s not gentle or sentimental. It’s emotion finding voice.

(I’m offering mind-altering ideas that make the most quiet-natured brain scream from exposure to the types of things that won’t necessarily make you happier – they’ll just give you a greater range of emotion. – Sage Francis)

Delivery is key, too–the bite of an emcee’s voice makes me flinch in recognition. Situations are different, but I think emotion is felt universally. Listening to some songs hurts. Truth and clear-eyed perception peek out between the words, venting and catharsis and revelation all tangled together to create a recognizable experience. The artists do a much better job than I do. All I can do, when these moods hit me, is point futilely at my speakers and sputter “THAT. Yes. That.”

No other genre of music has ever had such a visceral impact on me, like the lump is trying to claw its way out of my throat. Hip-hop gets me through the lows, helps me let go, pushes me to create more and do more.

Walking, by Eyedea, is one of my quiet not-publicly-advertised theme songs.

The spoken word piece “Mermaids are Seasluts,” by Sage Francis, is one that I keep accidentally returning to, and I can identify with a new piece each time. (On what turned out to be his last tour, I had the opportunity to meet him. Possibly botched it by flinging my arms around his neck, thanking him for being amazing, and skittering away. Eh well. Can’t always defeat the inner fangirl. Least I was able to hold an actual conversation with Eyedea last time he came through Texas.)

I’m remorseful of the pain I’ve caused you.
And I want to kiss your lips better.
I sympathize with the sorrow by
Stroking the scar of my own traumatic experience with
My excommunicated tongue.

See, I know exactly what you mean when you say
“It hurts too much to talk.”
I’ve been there.
I don’t plan on returning, ’cause
No matter how much of a distance I kept
Or how long I waited for my wounds to heal
They’d re-open with the slightest flash-back

So I sued time for malpractice.
That bastard’s a hack with a
rusty scalpel and barbed-wire stitched thread.

But I’ll leave you with Macklemore, and a few of the verses that made my throat tighten the first time I listened:

Freedom is acknowledging the mask you have on
And possessing the strength to take it off
Freedom is accepting every step of the path
And when it’s hard having faith in the ability to embrace that
That’s where you are
And this is it

This is your life, you can’t escape this bitch when it’s hard
Just know that it passes, but you’ll collect scars
They never go away, but they will make you who you are
This is a beautiful struggle, I share it in song cos
I can’t control this, remember: the moment’s beyond us

Hold your head up, there’s a light in the sky
I know you’re fed up, but you must try to survive
Each moment’s precious, don’t let life pass you by
Keep focused, keep your eyes on the prize.

2010-08-07T21:06:00.000-05:00

Change, even desirable and positive change, is scary.

Today's been excellent - shot off several emails and messages to people I've never met, with entirely positive results.

So why do I want to hide in my room and drink myself to sleep?

My inner shy awkward kid is traumatized by initiating interactions with strangers. Should probably get over that sometime soon.

2010-07-28T13:33:00.001-05:00

Oh, Old Spice Guy. You make me glee.

"In order for our love-filled trust explosion to continue and prosper, the next step is wildly obvious. To you. Because you're a woman.

So tell me... what to do next."

2010-07-17T22:49:00.000-05:00

Also, someone asked what "I love you" meant, and I chimed in:

When directed specifically at a significant other, my "I love you" means "I deeply appreciate your presence in my life, and I hope you continue to be a part of it for the foreseeable future." Beginning stages of a relationship, it's also, "I trust you not to hurt me unnecessarily and oh god I hope this is reciprocated and shit what am I saying this is scary!!"

"Love" is terrifying. Less in the rollercoaster emotional sense, these days, and more in the "holy-shit-I'm-letting-someone-close-enough-to-potentially-cause-me-pain" sense. I like to pretend that's more emotionally mature, somehow. Then again, I don't profess love willy-nilly except to friends and adorable baby animals.

"Love" is setting aside the rational part of your brain, and all the pieces of your psyche that remember exactly what it's like to be fucked over and betrayed, and expressing a willingness to take that risk.

In a more established relationship, "I love you" can signify anything from "you make me giggle inappropriately" to "you remembered how I like my eggs cooked!!" to "I can't remember how my heart beat before you sauntered into my life."

So, y'know. Your mileage may vary.

2010-07-17T22:47:00.001-05:00

that we're capable, as a species or as a society, of caring about each other, especially the compulsion to reach out to strangers, to offer solace and hope -

people are good. eternal question answered, over and over and over.

we're lazy, self-serving, and hopelessly fucked up, but at a basic level, most people want to do good.

Not poor grammar.

Do. Good.
Not do well, though that's undeniably true as well.
Do good.

We just need to be reminded every so often that the world exists outside our little bubble.
Reframing things from a macrosociological perspective helps.

2010-07-17T20:37:00.003-05:00

Ever notice how emotions kinda have a cumulative effect?

Just spent the past ten minutes reading back pages of Love Gives Me Hope and its companion, GMH, and I find myself laughing while tears roll down my cheeks. Humanity isn't doomed. Love doesn't conquer all, but it can prevail, and that's enough to keep us strong.

2010-07-05T21:28:00.003-05:00

In unrelated news, it appears that I will do damn near anything to avoid writing a paper on the manifest & latent functions of education.

This is how I write papers:

1. Look at assignment roughly a week before due date.
2. Forget about assignment.
3. Open Distance Learning window to review assignment a week later, notice that assignment is due today.
4. Keep window open in background, copy instructions to Notepad file.
5. Screw around on internet for the next two hours: visit Facebook, download a few torrents from Pirate Bay, redesign blog, catch up on webcomics and lolcats, discover and read archives of fascinating neuroscience and animal rescue and local burlesque and cupcake blogs.
6. Take a break to wrestle dogs, eat carrots, drink a beer, and make toast with peanut butter and Nutella.
7. Back on the computer for more screwing around. Reorganize forty gigs of music.
8. Realize that I should read the chapter I'm supposed to write the paper on.
9. Poke around the internet for another hour.
10. Force self to get away from internet, flip through textbook, find correct chapter, scan text for recognizable buzzwords and read a couple paragraphs.
11. Get distracted by Facebook and roommates.
12. An hour later, get back to computer. In the span of about eight minutes: regurgitate definitions of sociology terms, overanalyze them, go on a rabid tangent about the negative latent functions of public education for a page and a half, backtrack to answer the rest of the questions asked by the professor, and upload paper for grading.
13. Check grades the next day: 25 of 25, perfect A just like the rest.
14. Wonder idly why the hell I bother with a structured higher learning environment, and if I should just give up and raise pygmy alpacas on a farm someplace in Chile.

2010-07-05T20:09:00.005-05:00

While researching Asian mythological creatures looking for a name for the abandoned kitten at work, I stumbled across the shishi, a guardian lion-dog type creature. Google tells me that Growlithe and Arcanine, two fiery canine Pokemon, are based on these monsters.

Apparently, "shishi" is also a specialized term for Gary x Ash Pokemon yaoi fanfiction. This particular coupling is also known as "Palletshipping."

OH GOD INTERNETS! WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME?!

(what's even worse is that I already knew what "shipping" and "yaoi" meant, and I know the difference between "characterxcharacter" and "character+character.")

DAMMIT, INTERNETS! I'll tolerate goatse and 4chan and Pedobear, but underage anime boylove fanfiction? That's where I draw the line!

...*deleted her personal collection of GW fanfics years ago*

2010-06-29T22:54:00.003-05:00

I'm thinking maybe I should start a blog. A real blog, not this pseudo-exhibitionist absentminded rambling chronicle of my life.

Don't know what I'd write about.

Things that make me giddy and light.
Things that leave me spluttering with rage.
Dogs, world domination, sex education.

Do I have time for something like this?
What can I write about well enough that people would listen?

2010-06-29T22:14:00.004-05:00

This is what happens when left alone with Notepad files for too long. See, I AM coherent when I write, compared to this!

This drives me.
This sustains me.

Little white window with System Font, my refuge for the past ten years or more, the quickest way to sort through the sticky jumble of thought-threads and weird emotions; hopes and fears and memories flow through my fingers and transform into pixels.

Still a magical process, watching words appear on the screen in front of me like some telepathy transcription device. That's why I'm so fond of texting, I think--it's like primitive telepathy. We try to compensate for the loss of context and tone and nuance with emoticons. Sometimes works, sometimes doesn't. I wonder what we've lost exactly as a society, relying so heavily on 140-character blurbs to convey information.

Does openness ever come easily?

thoughts - violence towards women, this rarely-mentioned but pervasive fear that directs our actions

music, its influence on moods and actions

patterns in relationships, letting go or developing, seeing where you went wrong, being able to accept the actions of others at face value and not hope for something that isn't there

confidence is good, but you've gotta do something worthy of note

you want raw, you want true, you want what you're afraid to say.

Struggle with self between wanting to conform and needing to defy, wanting to be agreeable and likeable, hard to swallow that not everyone will like me or want to be my friend. Wondering if I have the strength to stand up to everything I don't want. Tattooed arms as I'd promised, months ago or years ago. Remind self what I seek.

Maybe it's not as much of a struggle now, since I've made an effort to stay good Kiki. I like that it's taken for granted that I'm trustworthy. Must must must be worthy of that, which is what lead to me making a choice and sticking to it. D-rad and I are working on this relationship thing, and it's mind-bogglingly easy. We don't want something complicated or weird, we don't want guessing games, and holy smokes it's nice to be with someone who values open honest communication. Will extol his virtues later - there are many. Many. (Conscientious and reliable and smart and goofy and sexy and he can cook and dance!!)

Wings are a favorite internal metaphor of mine, though they don't pop up often. The pain of growing is what I most relate 'em to, touching the sky requiring transformation and agony.

How often in your life do you care? Do you actively give a shit? Do you care about what's going on outside your own little first-class bubble? I don't always, but I'll give lip service to conservation efforts or sign a petition for Apple to use conflict-free minerals or post a mindless article on Facebook. We need easy ways to make a difference, a way to connect crusaders and passionate people with others who're easily prodded when it's not too far out of their comfort zone. Must make it relevant to someone, if you're trying to convince them.

What keeps drawing me to art lately is the vulnerability, the rawness, the uncomfortable scary naked slices of soul that people have been brave enough to expose, to serve up for our entertainment or enlightenment.

You want explicit?
How about memories?

How about tracing your thumb across my lips, soft and insistent, and I give in and flick my tongue against your fingertip.

How about your hand at my throat, not squeezing, just pinning me down while your other hand reaches between my legs, as I close my eyes in yearning shivering submission.

How about a quick blowjob in the back of the building on my knees as you curse between clenched teeth.

How about grabbing you by the collar and shoving you against the truck, snarling a threat I wish wasn't empty.

How about me rolling onto my back, laughing at your wide-eyed panting shock because you had never fallen victim to that desperate, merciless lust that crashes through courtesy and calculation and boundary and taboo, not until you met me.

I wish I could say I was inebriated as these words flow out of me, but I'm not. Pieces of my brain keep snapping and breaking, especially the filters that remind me of what's socially appropriate. I just don't give a damn anymore. Hi, I'm Megan. I like scars with stories, politically-minded hip-hop lyrics, giving head, and summer ales flavored with lemon and honey. I don't like mushrooms, soda, air conditioning vents aimed at my eyes, or fundamentalist thinking. I don't care if I'm considered important, but I want to make a positive and fundamental difference in the way some people see the world. I try to be brave, and I'm dedicated to living life on my own terms. Who are you? I want to meet you. And you. And you.

must get back to that
sense of purpose

Keep focus on now, on short-term goals (even continual - A's, straight), meaning keep head in reality and not all over the place like it is so much of the time. Too many ideas sparking, warring, and I get mired or distracted. Did some good today, and procrastination helped me find change.org and similar sites. These things already have a foundation. Innovation is awesome, it's just not always necessary to work completely from scratch. Must breathe, consciously, and work to relax. or just relax. Which means calm down on the stimulants for once. Ideas FOR ART -

love being encouraged to pursue those tendrils, that stamped-down desire to make and do, flowing and organic and bits of found metal manipulated.

Pick apart the day.

2010-06-28T21:59:00.003-05:00

Quick inventory of things I'm passionate about:

Dogs
Availability of knowledge
Responsible dog breeding and ownership
Sense of purpose
Human sexuality
Transgender/gay/gender equality
Responsible animal husbandry
Animal-assisted therapy
Music
Hip-hop
Spoken word
Rock climbing
Being active
Dancing
Play as a form of therapy and sanity maintenance
Words
Awareness of manipulation tactics
Sex education
Connections

2010-06-28T20:31:00.004-05:00

Listening to hip-hop at work, brutal melodic truth filtering through my headphones. Catch the rhythm, let the lyrics soak into my consciousness, and I'm caught unaware, goosebumps on my skin and I "sit with my emotion, but the lump in my throat builds, open up, and not even your voice can shift to go and close it shut, so I just let it flow through me, feelin' lifted from the spirit..."

By truth, this elusive and individually-defined concept, I refer to recurring themes, the persistent drive recognizable in the works of others, the immediate unconscious certainty that draws me in, confessional or experiential or revelatory.

Flexing my hand, accidentally breaking the seed-bead-strung necklace wrapped around my fingers, scattering bright flecks of color around the room. I felt no regret, just momentary surprise followed by some internal shrug--acknowledgement of the passage of time and dissolved friendships, and then the mild compulsion to sweep before my dogs tried to lick up the beads.

dreams: remembering them, and not happy about it at all.

rage at shelves of sterile and forgotten atrocities, eyes twitching, neglect or overt cruelty, unrolled like a grisly placemat, forgetting how basic biology works, failure to fulfill my duties, mourning the non-reality of Jolie and Rielle as I woke in a confused half-aware dream-within state.

2010-06-27T16:32:00.002-05:00

Downloaded three more albums today, in between phys ed labs.

"Golden Age of Grotesque," Marilyn Manson (babble babble bitch bitch rebel rebel party party... why didn't I already have this?)
"The Chase," Marit Larsen (lovely melancholy pop)
"Endtroducing," DJ Shadow, deluxe edition (the granddaddy of trip-hop)

2010-06-27T00:14:00.002-05:00

here we are now
we're watching bats in flight
what a lovely way to lie down
I definitely smell some fun

Now I lie awake and sure you're fine
the temperature of your hands just right
as the door slowly clicks shut
I definitely smell some fun

the darkness makes me sharper
it feels more like a game
and in the shadows where it's darker
is where I like to play

I'm not a child of darkness
I am a child of the light
But in the day I lose sharpness
And in the nighttime I feel bright

2010-06-22T23:32:00.002-05:00

Few more random things before bed:

-This Dramatic Reading of a Breakup Letter made me laugh so hard I could barely breathe. Click link and make sure your speakers are on.

-Remembering dreams lately, from zombie apocalypse (again) to things I can't escape in my unconscious brain that I was pretty sure my conscious brain had worked through--letters, wondering awake what I'd do if dream-scenario was real, hating the tiny desperate flame of hope it left me with.

-I don't care who you are. If I say no, I bloody mean no.

"May cause dizziness

MAY CAUSE DROWSINESS
Alcohol could intensify this effect"

-Baby, that's what I'm hoping for.

2010-06-22T22:30:00.003-05:00

yesyesYES

I can run again. Finally.
I hope I've learned whatever lesson I was supposed to learn from destroying my ankle, because with the aid of my trusty ankle brace, I'm going to return to full-throttle world-conquering mode right about

now.

Slowly returning to the life I've defined as normal, and this is one huge step towards where I want to be. Wasn't until I started working out regularly that I realized how much I need it.

Running and I have a complicated relationship. I hate it. It loves me. It's a solitary form of exercise, a direct and constant test of self-discipline. It's also cheap therapy, a great way to wear out the dogs, and the fastest way to work up a sweat.

Clear-eyed and clear-headed and light.

Gah, I don't know how to describe it, or how to label these moods I'm prone to. I speak facetiously of being crazy, but conveying these cravings--these embers fanned back to consuming flames, being a slave to this searing thirst quenched sometimes by blood or sweat or come, and sometimes nothing works and I feel I'm going to burn from the inside out unless I find an outlet for this desperate frustrated unfocused manic energy.

So yeah. Running is good.

2010-06-21T19:29:00.002-05:00

Of course, one incident isn't enough to mar the general outstanding nature of this weekend.

Looking around, realizing how rich and full my life is, how surrounded I am by good people.

Funny how you re-prioritize as you get older. More later on everything - I've got six or seven long-winded drafts to go through from the last few weeks. Might as well add to it with

-Sage
-live shows
-strengthening connections
-attentiveness
-ink
-creativity
-awareness
-laser tag
-Texas heat
-swing dancing
-sociology
-future living arrangements
-climbing
-new projects at work

2010-06-21T18:33:00.006-05:00

I have every confidence in R's ability to handle himself, but I've seen this lived this dealt with this for years. I will not stand by, back off, or stay silent, not when this pretentious, unstable, dangerous asshole is trying to goad one of my closest friends into a fight because he can't accept that he was out of line.

Blistering fury - not dimmed, just tamped down until I regain sense and stop trembling from this aborted adrenalin flood in my brain.

This goes beyond crossing lines. This is blood singing in my head, fists balled in my pockets. Fight or flight, and my wings are broken. Those temper tantrums are terrifying to someone who hasn't seen them before. I've had that dubious privilege.

He can't be wrong. Can't be humiliated in front of others. Oh, goodness no.

Don't ever, ever threaten anyone of mine again, or show such blatant disrespect as a guest in someone else's home, or lose your fucking temper in front of me, or I'll see to it that you drown in your own spittle and blood.

2010-06-18T23:56:00.001-05:00

this is my world, and all is right in my world.
peace out.

2010-06-15T01:15:00.003-05:00

this is the point of sleep deprivation where meggie realizes she's gonna start talking to dragons and lawn chairs soon. so much to say and write and think and do.

Come on, brain. Bedtime. You just fell asleep in the car on the way home. You can do it again now. You've got six chapters of sociology to read in the daylight hours, a test to take, fall classes to register for, Phys Ed labs to turn in, and AAHA's following up their inspection at work. Shit. All these things require a working brain which I do not HAVE and ARGH and ok, willpower, going to force self to sleep now.

2010-06-14T12:33:00.003-05:00

"never met nobody like her please brace yourself
danger danger
this might hurt
the playground feels a lot different when the sun's out
she wasn't messin round, she came in with her guns out
screamin bout the ocean
'anybody wanna go with me?'
never knew punk rock could be so pretty
now catch your breath and then catch the ball
and sit by the phone so you can catch the call
write catchy one-liners on the bathroom stall
here I go wouldn't you know
still learnin to crawl

and she still wonders why I'm so insecure
she giggles because I sleep with a body pillow
intentions are never nothing short of pure
but there's a price to pay when you try to live a little

I've always dug the way you love the way
your tattoos intimidate men
I guess I'm one of them
standin right next to you from way over here
ex-lover and a best friend
then there was this one night I noticed a tree
that stood by itself about an hour up north
and I can picture her holding onto the limb
wearin a summer dress and a grin
swingin back and forth
talkin bout the breeze and how it easy it is
to leave all the worries in the backseat
teach me please I need the abilities to live
silly me I tried to measure it by what I can give
but she didn't need anything
just a pair of ears some strong fingers
and someone to share the tears
read the fear feeling it inadequate
now let's make-believe that I can handle it

and I still get to talk to you every now and then
definition of "over" doesn't have to be the end
it's good to see you grow girl
shake my hand
that's all I want from my ex-lover and my best friend

I got your back
don't ever fucking question that
I got your back
always have
I still got your back"

- "Body Pillow," Atmosphere

2010-06-09T22:59:00.002-05:00

Operation: Kyle + Coffee = rousing happy success! Will very likely repeat this endeavor!

Operation: convince boss to let me rework my schedule and learn even more stuff at work = another rousing success!

Operation: Clean Augie's Garage = SUPER AWESOME LIEK WHOA. So sore and tired.

Slipped on hardwood floor while wearing socks. Caught ankle wrong. Want to die now.

2010-06-07T06:59:00.003-05:00

Passed out in bed with the dogs past night sometime after 7 pm. I missed the movie with Meredith, didn't write about anything I'd meant to, didn't do any cardio, and now my sheets are covered in dog fur.

But I feel GREAT.

2010-06-04T22:16:00.002-05:00

And I'm scared for my Yuri. I know symptoms, I know what to look for, and being damned good at my job means I'm hypervigilant with my own creatures.

Please stop vomiting - please keep drinking - please don't go inappetant or lethargic. Chronic kidney failure is not fixable.

2010-06-04T22:02:00.002-05:00

And yes, today was One Of Those Days.

The best part was waking up.

The second best part involved toasted coconut atop soft chewy cookies and gratuitous hugs.

The third best part is yet to come, me going to bed very very soon.

The worst part was carrying the terrified feral kitten with the broken back and the gaping wounds to the treatment room, unable to comfort him before he was relieved permanently of his pain.

The equally awful part was cuddling Shelby after learning about her irreversible and rapidly worsening kidney failure, then kissing her greying head and feeling her tail thump against my stomach before handing her back to her mom and stepping back for the vet to explain the euthanasia procedure.

Some days, I wonder how the hell I can still do this, and if I'm doing any good in the world in my position. Then clients turn to me for answers, for some confirmation that they're doing the right thing, and there's no room for doubt, just quiet acceptance. I believe in the right to die with dignity and without pain, if a choice is offered.

2010-06-04T19:01:00.006-05:00

I HAVE INTERNET BACK ROOOAOAAARGH

Viruses be damned! If they ever figure out a way to deliver interwebs intravenously, I'll be first on the list to have piping hot data packets pumped through my veins.

So. Uh. Chaos. I spent most of yesterday in my own company, pursuing solitude and giving myself time and room to breathe and think. I've been texting myself little blurbs, half-thoughts that I haven't had time to roll around in my brain or let grow into proper trains of thought. Finally collected all those and put 'em in one place, and yesterday evening was devoted to easing into a few themes.

It feels like defragging my brain, picking through these fractured phrases that clog my head and making sense of them.

I think of this as purely masturbatory writing, self-absorbed rambling for the pleasure of it. Shit. Too many events and feelings to hope to catalogue.

Dad flew me up to Missouri for his wedding, an intimate affair at a Catholic church. I was the only one representing his side of the family, and I was honored to be a part of it. Unexpected amazing bonus of being welcomed with open arms into Karen's side of the family. Catholics are serious about this marriage thing, and about this family thing. As Dad's kid, I was officially "one of them now, muahahahaha!" Couldn't be more pleased. Karen's daughter Beth is a freaking riot, and we identified one another as fellow subversives. "I have a sister now! That's... so gay. But not really." Loving the wicked warmth and wisdom of all the women in her family.

Relationships have been a distinct theme lately, especially definition of. In the interest of truth/disclosedness (silly Heidegger essay), I'm thinking I should give up on some of my rules. If I'm not comfortable scribbling something about people on this very public and easily accessible hidden-in-plain-sight blog, that's one thing, but I shouldn't hide behind convenient standards for content.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped being satisfied with being a part-time girlfriend or lover, and started attempting to extricate myself from the tangled and unnecessarily complex relationships I'd gotten myself into. Dino Boy was unreliable and interested solely in sex, and after my "sorry, I think I want a relationship and not a fuck buddy" text, he didn't bother contacting me.

Panda was manipulative and childish, demanding and compelling, sadistic and passionate. I lived for the moments of unexpected tenderness, the lovers' smile of shared secrets, and I craved the intensity and agony and pleasure of our interactions. I loved him. When I finally asked what I was to him, "important" was the only answer I was given. That would've been more than enough when I was younger and stupider, but at this point in life I need a certain amount of reciprocity and respect in my relationships. He was displeased when I told him I wasn't going to sleep with him anymore. I'm pretty sure I bruised his ego and maybe actually hurt his feelings, but if he's not willing to communicate with me then I'm not going to waste my time. This is not Chris 2.0, and I won't be content with hard-earned scraps of affection, or beg for genuine communication. Hard decision to make, but I'm not going to engage in a constant battle for dominance, or cater to someone else's ego, or build a relationship on someone else's terms. Life's too short.

I won't allow myself to feel meaningless.

Lincoln I'll probably never be completely rid of; he knows me too well. Being in the same room with him makes my nerves vibrate with suppressed frustration and irritation. He showed up unexpectedly at my door a couple weeks ago, one of three or four times in the half-decade I've known him, and I was able to shoo him away without incident. Unless punching the wall in frustration and screaming about how fucking much I hated that obnoxious bastard, after he'd left, counts as incident. (My roommate thought it was entertaining, at least. "Damn, woman, since when do you get riled up?")

The none-of-your-goddamned-business feelings overwhelm me when I think about writing anything here about the lover who's been most involved in my life. Defining and redefining roles. Regardless of my "progress" in dealing with emotion, I still have tight control over its development and expression. Most of it stems from fear of hurt (getting or causing), but some things won't change. He would give everything, but it wouldn't be enough, because his attention will always be divided. I'm selfish. I can't be selfish with him. I'll believe in his dreams, help him accomplish any scheme he can conceive, and dismember anyone who threatens him; that has to be enough, because I can't offer anything else. There's enough trust and love built up that I unconsciously relax and melt into him when he pulls me in for a hug, and I still can't decide how I feel about that. Still deeply uncomfortable with any of my own comfort-seeking tendencies, as though that'll somehow compromise my independence. Suppose one of the lessons he's tried to teach me is that leaning on someone doesn't mean I'm weak, but still. Still. I don't exactly know how to fix this, but we both yearn for mutuality and sustainability.

Finally learning to trust my own judgement.

One date with This One Guy, this tall, goofy guy with a broad smile and hipster glasses and palpable love of life, was really all it took for me to fall hard in Like. Here again is where I balk at chronicling the particulars of a connection with someone.

He's nifty. He's wildly intelligent and unpretentious and self-aware. He's mine.

Also, I desire monogamy with him! Holy cow, how often does that happen?

I think that's enough disclosure for one day, don't you? Left over are some of the blurbs I've emailed myself to remember for later:

-Shared coming-of-age experiences are certainly an entertaining way to bond. Same song, different verse; third verse, same as the first. Such flippancy does little to reveal the deep respect and love for these women. Silly words and an eyeroll-and-smile are all that's immediately visible, but the current of grief and strength and empathy runs deep. I can recognize and acknowledge the emotions behind that smile.

-Roofie colada!

-Frightening intensity, not always leashed, tongue on a tether, fierce woman let the music swallow your soul. Sometimes all that's left of me after the music consumes me, spills through me, is the husk. There are worse fates. Craft an acceptable reality and inhabit it wholly. Make others comprehend your vision, invite them to play in your world. Devote yourself to building your world around you, brick by brick. Know what you want. Know what you can give the world. Help others realize their worth.

-Moon lost its luminescence, pale round disc slipping below the horizon, unhurried and inevitable. Wheel turns.

-Still tougher than a pile of rusted railroad spikes, with an affinity for pit bulls and dandelions and splintered wooden chests.

-Oh sometimes I get a good feeling - get a feeling that I never never never had before. Just wanna tell you right now, I really do believe...

-Amazed at the ease of new connections, at this immense feeling of rightness, at realizing "oh, hey, you're my people" followed by unutterable joy at having "my people," this clan posse family of people I haven't yet met. Nurturing this initial spark of recognition, acknowledging this bone-deep level of familiarity, accepting not "the inevitable" but "the potential," and hinging everything on what should feel like wild unfounded assumption, and working hard to be worthy of connecting with.

2010-05-19T13:53:00.002-05:00

Angi: Megan has better judgement.

Me: AAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHA! That is the first time I've heard that, and probably the only time I ever will.

2010-05-14T18:35:00.003-05:00

Should blog for some other reason than to remember what I did the day before yesterday. Hmm.

I feel like someone's taken a sledgehammer to my brain. Backing out of tonight's social engagements in order to catch up on sleep. I am lamesauce.

later:
-yay for graduation parties!
-people make me happysquee!
-I will rock your world, if I can get through fear.
-throw caution out a moving vehicle on the highway
-on some level, it is a conscious decision, but it's irreversible
-would you want it any other way?

-fear and overcoming fear - this is the theme lately. Fear of passion, fear of criticism, fear of making the wrong choice, fear of stepping out of bounds, fear of rejection and loss. Trying to separate healthy survival instinct-type fear from the deep-rooted societal constraints that hold you back from your goals and dreams. Being afraid to have dreams, and working through that.

lkdjasflkj time to sleeeeeeep

2010-05-10T19:33:00.003-05:00

I just used the phrase "pseudo-necrophilia" in casual conversation, in the context of zombie boinking. All those offhand remarks about me losing my sanity? Yeah, we're way past that.

I can make it through this week. One week. Is all I'm asking.

2010-05-09T22:26:00.003-05:00

Making bread could potentially be my new addiction. Something to do with my chronically fidgety hands that results in deliciousness? Yes please.

Koi and magnolia blossoms and sunlight filtering through layers of new green leaves, tasty Fuzzy's tacos, swapping excellent music, learning to judge dough readiness by the tacky feeling, and curling up to watch Repo for the 82nd time... can't think of a better way to spend my day off.

Today?

Went to work, got home and talked with Rani for an hour, stared into space and drank tea, passed out cold on the couch from 11 am till 4:47 pm, went to work at 5, got home and drank more tea and talked with Rani for another hour.

Going to fall off the face of the earth after finals, at least for a few days. Hide in parks and coffee shops and be alone and recharge till I can get back to normal.

2010-05-03T19:03:00.001-05:00

I just coughed quinoa all over my keyboard.

2010-04-30T22:24:00.003-05:00

rambling, to be forgotten on the morrow:

1. melting glacier, cascading rushing flowing through my lips, shocking overwhelming in its intensity * riff on old old poem

2. reconciling the screaming, pissed-off temper tantrum of "it's not fucking FAIR" and desperate tears with the reality of autoimmune disorders, drug sensitivity, and standing by while friends decide between the chances of 85% agonal death and 15% partial relief or an overdose of anesthesia and 100% relief and finality.

3. unutterable grief, unaffected by rationalization or logic, hey look, mirror neurons

4. which choices in life are driven by fear disguised as rationality and caution, and which ones are driven by hard-headed impulsivity? damned if I can tell which one is healthier, most days.

5. this inane blather brought to you by Jack, straight, with a couple of those nifty oblong ice cubes and sleep deprivation inching into a hallucinatory phase. Fuck yeah. The only time I have the courage to write honestly and not keep a set audience in mind is when I've effectively obliterated my mind. This strikes me as... not good. We'll work on that.

6. far less confidence in self than previously assumed. What happened to squish my inherent surety, and how do I rectify this?

2010-04-30T21:26:00.004-05:00

We tried everything, but fuck if it doesn't hurt to admit defeat, to give up on something so unbearably precious, to know when to let go.

I'm so sorry, Syndie baby, for failing you. For things beyond our control.

2010-04-27T22:13:00.005-05:00

Listening to rawk (loudly) and noshing one of Augie's delicious muffins (damn you for exploiting my weakness!! *shakes fist*).

Paper writing. Why am I having so much trouble focusing on this?

I've got 173 GB of music to play with. This may, in fact, be a contributing factor.

2010-04-25T20:28:00.002-05:00

Effing ankle effing twingeing and why does it wait till NOW to start the knee-buckling holy-fuck-what-was-that pain? EFFING EFF.

ahem.

Me: EFFING A when does it stop hurting?!
Rani: The pain reminds you you're alive, darling.
Me: ...Anyone who says differently is selling something.

2010-04-25T02:06:00.003-05:00

Hard drive reformatted.

Software and updated drivers installed.

Files transferred.

Let's see if I can keep my computer from getting infested with malware this time around. (I didn't even get the satisfaction of earning it through excessive pr0n downloading. Le sigh.)

2010-04-24T15:32:00.003-05:00

Oh, and sudden dramatic color contrasts still leave me reeling.

Santa Fe adobe stark against a blue sky, a flashing cardinal perched on a snowy tree, bluebonnets and dandelions and roadside wildflowers.

...yep, still high on sunlight and outside time. Who needs LSD, I have flowers. XD

2010-04-24T13:03:00.003-05:00

edit: holy crap, this is a long babblefest!

Waiting for the beat to kick in, but it never does...
which is why I start tapping compulsively on nearby desks, bobbing my head to the rhythm others can't hear, and hip-swinging my way through halls and down sidewalks. Beat of my own drum, beat of my own electrosynth fiddle, whatever.

The urge to create has been overwhelming lately. I find myself scribbling poetry and flower-drawings in the margins of my notes, playing with words, indulging in brain-teasers and planting marigolds and dragging graphite along paper for the pleasure of it, unconcerned with result and mesmerized by process.

Most of this, I'm sure, is due to the annual madness of the season. I feel resilient and confident and giddy. Laughter builds up in the back of my throat, bubbling over and flowing out at every opportunity. I feel drunk on springtime, honeysuckle-scented breezes tangling my hair and balancing the warmth of the sunlight.

Yay life, in big swirly letters. Grateful for my shortsighted absentmindedness, as it allows me to immerse myself in the moment and the now and not get caught up in worry or regret or pain.

And the practical side of life, what's been going on above this feeling of irrepressible chaotic joy? Ya know. The usual. Work, school, catch up with people, sleep.

Last Friday night, I managed to sprain my ankle while climbing. I was bouldering, and my feet were about ten or twelve feet off the ground. I crouched down, sprung for the last hold on the route, and squeaked as my hand caught the edge of the hold and slipped off. I regret to say I didn't have a Wil E Coyote moment of hanging in the air legs flailing before I fell. Falling is no big deal, happens all the time, and I've perfected my ninja landing. Not so much when I hit the edge of the crash pad instead of landing on it squarely. My foot caught the edge and rolled upwards a fraction of a second before my butt hit the floor, full momentum and weight crushing my ankle. After a few minutes of sitting there, trying to assess the damage, I crawled off to one side and made some crack about gravity.

Being the stubborn, stoic, macho dumbass that I am, I didn't bother telling anyone that it hurt. Maverick asked if I was okay after he noticed me not moving. He didn't like the long pause before I answered "of course!" and insisted on getting me some ice, because he's awesome like that. It didn't help matters that earlier in the evening, Chung busted her lower back and couldn't move. She was worse off than I am, and I dislike attention. On the way out, I tried putting weight on it, and nearly cried as I rolled it again and heard it go kk-crakkity-crack. Augie and Angi helped get me to my truck after that. Thank FSM I've got an automatic and not a standard. Generally, my tolerance for pain is absurdly high. I can't remember being so close to tears from sheer ouch since I was in elementary school. Hence the unplanned detour by the ER, with such entertaining bits as leaning on the valet while I hopped to the front desk, leaking tears during the entire xray procedure after I realized I wouldn't be able to run or climb or jump or skip or dance for the next month, and being trapped alone in a hospital room with Fox Entertainment News blaring on the television while unable to reach the switches and finding no remote control in sight. Katherine Heigl dyed her hair brown and reports that blondes do not, in fact, have more fun? WTF?! This is news?!

"Access Hollywood" chattering noisily at me while I'm cold, hurting, alone, and unable to escape is my new vision of Hell.

At least it isn't broken. It's a very nasty sprain (don't you hate it when the nurses and techs make the "ergh oooh" face when they see your xrays?), but I heal quickly and I'm trying to take care of it. After several days on crutches, I've graduated to The Boot of Doom. Oh! And Augie and I steampunked-out my crutches! Black and copper spray paint, brown duct tape for the cushy spots, and extra springs and gears. If I'm going to be crippled, I'm going to do it in style, dammit.

Pain medication is a different ballgame. They prescribed me Darvocet, which evidently makes me alternately drowsy or a rampaging psychotic bitch. Srsly. Everything got under my skin, and I went off on rants about imagined slights from four months ago. I don't have the attention span for grudges, but synthetic opiates lend clarity to my memory. Sooo stopped taking those, and am relying on ice and lots of ibuprofen. So far, so good. I have massive dark purple-brown-green bruises wrapped around my leg and foot. They look atrocious, which is sort of comforting--visible proof that I wasn't just being a wuss.

I've learned to cherish the bruises, aches, and scratches that come from developing a relationship with my body. How'd you hurt your ankle? Rock climbing! How'd you rip your jeans? Jumping over a chain link fence! Before the accident, I'd gotten into the habit of working out hard and often, and it's already starting to show. I forget how much better I feel when I work out regularly, and the deep satisfaction that comes with hard-earned sweat. Really, nothing makes you feel like a badass more than completing a workout goal, even if it's something like interval training on an elliptical for half an hour. I love being active. Can't wait to get back to running and everything else. My body craves movement and sweat and that high-floaty-warm feeling of endorphins washing over your brain from working out. Strength training will suffice in the meantime. (I will WIN at abs! You watch! Rargh!)

Matters continue to escalate in the ab competition with Augustus, though we still haven't established the criteria for judging, or who's judging, or the prize for winning. We're playing dirty now. He brings me delicious cookies at work (<3) and I'm about due to make him another batch of buttery sugary muffins. It's a continual exercise in willpower. I will not admit defeat!

These past few weeks have been a strange exercise in metacognition, thinking about thinking. Committing to different paths, making conscious decisions about who I want to be and which skills and facets of personality I want to nurture. Basically, my goal is to be awesome. I'm surrounded by some of the coolest people in the entire world. My friends are my role models and heroes, and I strive to be as downright fucking hardcore excellent as they are. We've got T-Dizzle's empathy and work ethic, Augie's inventiveness and gentle selflessness, Rani's drive and passion and grab-life-by-the-throat-edness, and that's three of many.

Geez. This is what happens with a borrowed laptop and a beautiful day. Words pouring forth, and I'm nowhere near done. I haven't taken time to sit in awhile, and now I'm forced to. Might as well use the time to air out my brain, eh?

Lists! I like lists!

1. Still need to write about Churching it up and hitting the Freaks & Fetish show. Weird personal sorta-revelations. (No, I'm not gonna become a pole dancer or start shoving needles through my skin for tips. I'm not freaky-fetish, I just speak the language.)

2. Not entirely sure why, but my self-confidence has skyrocketed lately. I blame this partially on the happy brain chemical boost from regular exercise, but the very silly "remember: they're more afraid of you then you are of them!" thing keeps rattling around in my brain when dealing with new people.

3. Neuroplasticity! Psychoneuroimmunology! Cognitive flexibility! Etc! How you think and what you think directly shapes your brain and your health! Activating different parts of your brain will strengthen those neural connections! STRETCH THAT MYELIN!! SCIENCE behind think happy thoughts! It's such a simple premise! Why does it still blow my mind?!

4. Road trips to the beach and to the desert teach me to breathe again.

5. Starting to get to the point where I can admit, at least to myself, that it wouldn't be all bad to try dating again. If I can find time. Sometime. Possibly. I'm happy without a significant other, and it takes so damn long to allow others to be significant. Always afraid to take that risk, building trust, but if I'm forcing myself to systematically face the rest of my fears then I'm screwed either way.

6. Chung's pizza was divine. Homemade wheat dough for crust and homemade tomato sauce, topped with fresh pineapple and asparagus and avocado and tomato, accompanied by prickly pear beer and milk stout and strawberry wheat beer samplers. Happy Meggie loves her foodie friends.

7. This concept of ownership, of making a place or activity your own, continues to fascinate me. "The War of Art" puts it more eloquently than I could hope to, but the essence is this: you put sweat and time and attention into something, and no one can take it from you. This is why I like my town - gritty and fractured and imperfect as it may be, I know it.

2010-04-24T12:47:00.002-05:00

You want a "short response paper" to a PBS video called "The Medicated Child" for my Lifespan Psych class? Oh, I can do that. I can do that well. For your entertainment (and I got full credit on this, w00t w00t for entertaining one's professors):

If nothing else, my roommates were monumentally entertained by me stomping around the house in an apoplectic fit, ranting about the injustice of a million little kids on medication for bipolar disorder alone. I was deeply disturbed by the video. As an ADHD kid stuck on Ritalin and Clonodine for a good chunk of my life, this is a hot topic for me. After watching the video, I’m still not entirely convinced that child psychiatry isn’t a gigantic crock supported by wishy-washy parents and soulless pharmaceutical corporations. Maybe I have no room to talk, not having my own offspring, but the continuing trend of weak parents letting their children run all over them drives me completely crazy.

It is entirely possible that I’ve spent too much time with dogs, but with most of the children in the video, it seems that a swat to the rump, a timeout, and involvement in some outdoor activity would solve the problem. Rinse and repeat until the kid gets the point—that the behavior is not socially appropriate or acceptable. I treat my friends’ children the same way I treat my dogs. I’ll love them and cuddle them and run around outside with them until they fall asleep, but they both know that I’m older and bigger and distinctly in charge. Coincidentally, the dogs and the kids both adore me. Watching the way the parents in the video react to their child having a meltdown was utterly infuriating. Any relationship is based on mutual respect, and these children obviously have no respect for their parents. It is entirely possible to discipline your child without scarring him or her for life, but these adults seem too weak-willed to enforce even basic rules of conduct. No wonder we’re all drugged-out zombies. Popping a few pills into a kid must be infinitely easier than teaching them to be a responsible, empathetic, courteous human being. God forbid we do anything that requires actual effort.

I do apologize for the vitriol, but I could easily rave about this for page after page. Other topics worth considering include giving children drugs that haven’t been tested on children and subjecting their developing brains to wildly unstable chemical cocktails, the addiction and tolerance factors of these medications (another point that hits close to home, since I have a family member who was addicted to prescription stimulants), and the influence of pharmaceutical companies on psychiatrists and popular media. The topic of this video is a major reason I’m considering psychopharmacology: if I’m going to go on relentless tirades about the largely unnecessary and potentially lethal mix of kids and drugs, I should at least be well-educated on the subject.

2010-04-15T07:00:00.002-05:00

How can I learn to reject outright this notion of "celebrity," of someone's opinion taken as fact because it's plastered on a flickering screen? Why does media exposure elevate status, even if the story is lurid and intrusive?

2010-04-13T01:16:00.004-05:00

Truth, induced by excessive red wine and QT coffee.

1. I've tried and enjoyed chocolate-covered bacon.
2. I push myself to exhaustion and stay up too late every night because I have a hard time sleeping by myself. I can pass out on Augie's shoulder on a bumpy car ride in three minutes flat, just because I'm not breathing alone.
3. If I had to choose between climbing and shagging, I'd probably pick the former. Less messy.
4. Who the hell are all these people in the magazines, and why am I supposed to care?
5. Henceforth, I'm not going to bother with any kind of meaningless relationship. Ever. Life's too rich and full of potential for communication and cooperation and understanding and compassion and sweetness and generosity.
6. Fuck apathy.
7. I'm going to bed now, with my cat next to my head and my dog curled under one arm. Ideal? Eh. Functional? Yes.

also
-Houston-beach-friends-independence-there's a fish in my pants-ripped jeans-neuroplasticity-no time like the present-no time but the present

2010-04-03T18:30:00.007-05:00

If nothing else, my life is eventful.

Have been trying to save on gas money and not jaunt off to Dallas so regularly, but I haven't climbed in a week. Dallas Rocks has daily specials, and on Friday nights, ladies get in free. Cannot resist.

Timeline for the last 23 hours!

7pm-9: climbing with Bre and Chung and Ash!
9:15-9:30: stopped by to give Chuck a sweaty chalky hug!
10-11: surprisingly awesome local rock bands concert in Deep Ellum with Cat and Anda!
11:30-3:30a: unplanned stop by the freaks and fetish show at the Lizard Lounge, with Panda and Kat and Tommy and Kim and LaDonna and Jason!
4-5: home and conversation with Rani!
5-7:30: sleep!
8-12:30: work!
12:45-1:15: visited Angi and Augie at garage sale!
1:30-2:30: walking and running with dogs!
2:45-3:15: the most glorious shower I've taken all week, complete with pomegranate green tea shampoo and conditioner!
3:30-4:30: naptime!
5-6: work again!

Must do homework and get some sleeeeeeeeeep. I do need to put in some serious writing time when I wake up, though.

Later, more on:
-exercise and health
-freaks and fetish show
-climbing <3
-work
-color contrasts
-the eventual takeover and weirding-out of A-town
-make it mine

2010-03-30T22:14:00.004-05:00

"Spring break" saw me working 60 hours and nursing Yuri through acute kidney failure. I'm good at the many facets of my job, and I'm grateful that I've learned concrete and practical skills. He's absolutely docile with me (a pussycat, if you will), so he let me give him subcutaneous fluids and syringe feed him. Nothin' like stabbing your cat in the neck skin with an 18g needle to start your day, lemme tell ya. We're still not sure what caused it, but he's started eating on his own again and (other than harassing the dogs more than normal) he's back to his old bossy, affectionate self. I would not handle losing my kitten well, not this early.

2010-03-19T22:12:00.001-05:00

Time somehow indicates that I'm now mature enough to handle myself and my life.

Ahahahaha.

2010-03-08T20:36:00.002-06:00

Taking time out from Trig for a dance break around my room. *w00t w00t w00t*

Hard to focus! TX Govt is next on the study agenda! Test is tomorrow! Want to go run or dance or wrestle dogs or SOMETHING other than sit in front of computer screen or textbook

habuhh
grarghle
blegh

How many more years do I have of this?

2010-03-04T22:44:00.003-06:00

Have consumed enough caffeine to feel jittery. Taking time out from bloody homework for frenetic dancing around the room. (Tatu, THIS IS A TRIBUUUUUTE TO THE GREATEST SONG IN THE WORLD!!, and Manson, thus far.)

2010-02-24T00:57:00.001-06:00

Pff, sleep. I should get more of it.

Gentle purry content mood has stuck with me since Saturday.

2010-02-16T01:57:00.004-06:00

With Friday's snow day, last weekend was a four-day weekend. Needed it.

I feel like, with basic survival guaranteed for the next few months, I can focus more on the other rungs of Maslow's handy-dandy little ladder. In theory, being in school is working towards self-actualization. Other stuff has fallen by the wayside for too long.

Unpolished fragments, some moments, some just half-considered scrawls. This post thingy has been on the back burner for a week, and I open it every few days and stare blankly at it until I lose interest. In the interest of getting it out of the way, here we go:

I forget who I am, some days.

I always forget how much I need people. (I don't cringe as much as I used to, admitting that to myself.)

Read over some of the things I wrote in high school. Thinking about how I've changed since then.

I've learned how to rewire an electrical socket without frying myself. I still stay up too late, typing notes to myself that may or may not get posted. Too much pressure on myself to write something sensible.

Goals for this spring - new clothes that fit, CHL, and making time to give.

I choose the high-heeled boots over the black tennis shoes, because I have to walk with a little bit more of a swing, a measured stride with purposeful clicks and hip-swagger attitude.

What's supposed to be a slow, smoldering glance dissolves with a grin, and we both know the game's up. We've been doing this too long - we react, we play it cool, and we recognize the heat in each other's eyes. I wonder if we're transparent to those around us, if we give ourselves away in the glances and suppressed smirks, if the heat between us is palpable to those standing near.

You taught me to recognize that look.

More willing to let small things affect me lately, though I'm not sure how much control I have over the change. Lump in throat at the first notes of a simple sweet harmony.

Spring madness hits me hard and fast. Each brief, teasing glimpse of sunshine lifts my mood, and prolonged exposure makes me wild with anticipation. It's acute and physical and entirely unconscious - breath catches, pulse quickens. Every cell in my body thrills to springtime, this glorious rebellion against decay and stagnation- growth and blossoms and turbulent weather.

This season brings to mind words like "riot" and "chaos" and "fractious." There's no gentle exhalation, no warm breeze easing us into a new day. Spring here is the earth roaring into wakefulness, snarling eagerness. Freak hailstorms, tornado warnings, gorgeous blue-skied days interspersed with thunderstorms and cold snaps. New growth erupts overnight, bare branches suddenly patched with bushy leaves. Hormones surge, birds slam into windows, everyone goes a little crazy.

2010-02-12T14:06:00.002-06:00

*facepalm*

Forthrightness is supposedly admirable, but sometimes I wish for things like subtlety and patience. I meet interesting people and I want to pounce - "OH HAI I LIKE YOU WE CAN BE FRIENDS YES?!"

Note to self: Chill out, doofus. People won't necessarily like you as much as you like them. Nothing personal, right?

2010-02-12T13:27:00.002-06:00

Screw you, Freud, and your psychosexual stage theory! I am uncomfortable with your description of oral fixations!

This could, of course, be due to the fact that I play incessantly with the stud in my lip. (...which is, of course, the reason why it's the only facial piercing I have.)

2010-02-11T22:24:00.003-06:00

Professor let us out of class early. Work told me there was no reason to come back in today.

Funny, at 25 years old the thought of SNOW DAY! still sends me into a tizzy.

I wanted moments. I got 'em.

Romping with the dogs outside, staring entranced by the big fluffy flakes falling fast around me, snowball fights in the parking lot, seeking refuge from the cold curled up in the car with a friend, leaning over the sixth story balcony with snowflakes on my eyelashes and a giddy whoop escaping my lips, and I can't possibly do this justice.

Impromptu jam sessions in the car, drumming furiously on my steering wheel with the music too loud.

Disused dusty neurons in my brain firing full-speed.

Soaking up the wonder of Texas snowfall, an unheard-of nine inches, and reveling in the magic of waking up to an unrecognizable soft white world.

"And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it."

- Roald Dahl

2010-02-10T22:55:00.006-06:00

After chillin' on the couch and eating buckwheat with spinach and fresh tomatoes with Pattywhack, I'm a little less frustrated.

Long-winded self-righteous rants aside, I feel closer to myself over the last couple days than I have in awhile. Or closer to who I want to be. I don't know.

Made the decision to drop my Biology class in favor of taking a second eight-week class and staying sane. Three classes at a time, but I'll still have 12 hours for the semester.

I've been running myself into the ground and sacrificing important parts of my life, and for what? Why am I doing this? Work work class study sleep work class class study sleep work work class... I'm eager to finish school, yes, but I'm not willing to give up so much of now. This is what happens when I watch Rent.

There's only us
There's only this
Forget regret
Or life is yours to miss
No other road
No other way
No day but today

I knew something was desperately wrong when unnamed-guy-I-was-crushing-on made a comment about living in the moment, and I realized how long it's been since I've been able to document any of the dizzyingly divine fragments of life that I use to justify this insufferable grind.

Not necessarily condoning irresponsibility or slacking off, but when I feel such anxiety about taking half an hour to sit down at home and eat, instead of grabbing a protein bar on the way out the door or snagging a tupperware container of cold beans and rice outta the fridge and inhaling it while driving to class, then something needs to change.

So I wrest control of my life back into my own hands, flip off Societal Pressure, and live for now now now now NOW on my own terms.

What's life, without time or opportunity to actively seek joy and love and light?

2010-02-07T16:32:00.012-06:00

Oh. Oh, honey. This week is not a good week to fuck with me.

For all that I do have an interweb blog and a cracked brain-to-mouth filter, I understand the concept of privacy and believe that some lines should not be crossed.

I do not document my interpersonal interactions here or elsewhere, out of respect for others. I don't believe the details of my relationships, friend or lover or coworker or family, should be for public consumption. Yeah, there are exceptions, but usually something extreme has to occur for me to make my feelings public. For example, the Rachel situation. I've gotta be crying in a restaurant bathroom stall in another city before I'll mention freely that something yeah-maybe-kinda had a negative effect on my emotions.

I'm way more emotional than I want to be, and certainly feel more than I'll ever willingly admit. It doesn't mean that I'm going to have a meltdown every time something gets under my skin. And you most certainly got under my skin. Not in the heated-shiver discomfort-arousal way, more in the flesh-eating-scarab-from-The-Mummy way.

Rule number one of trying to influence me? Don't ever fucking guilt trip me. Your assumption of my pliability will come crashing down around your ears faster than you can say "pity party."

Of all the things I've been accused of, having the magical ability to "turn off" my feelings surprises me the most. Ooh, or even better, the ability not to feel at all.

Of course I don't display everything openly. It's my job to be the calm one. It's my job to stay coolheaded, to be in control of unpleasant and emotionally charged situations because no one else is willing to. I deal extremely well with emergencies and tragedies because not everyone can afford to fall apart at the seams and dissolve into a wailing useless mess.

You want to know what my job was last week? I was the one took the listless backyard-bred parvo puppy out of the sobbing little girl's arms while her mom honked into a tissue. I held the two-pound fluffy Cockapoo while the vet tried to find a vein in his neck, since the cephalic vein was too dehydrated to use. I cradled him in my hands while the vet listened for a heartbeat. I was the one who wrapped him in a towel, put him in a cardboard box, put the box in the outstretched arms of the tear-streaked girl, turned away as she pressed the box to her chest.

Don't ever accuse me of "not feeling," asshole.

I'm under no obligation to placate, appease, or coddle you. Your feelings are your responsibility, not mine. Deal with it.

2010-02-03T23:06:00.002-06:00

And I teeter between tired
and really, really tired
I'm wiped and I'm wired
but I guess it's just as well

Recognizing, understanding, and dealing with several sources of stress. Nothin' dire, especially not compared to everyone around me. School's slammed into third gear (note to self: pay attention next time to class length - 8 week classes are a wee bit more intense than 16 week classes), work is work, Pogo figured out how to climb the newly-repaired section of the backyard fence but comes running to the front door when called, my truck should be washed, and the knots near my shoulder blades feel like walnuts lodged in the muscles. Wah, poor baby, life's so hard. Don't want to listen to self complaining.

What's going on this week? Hearts breaking left and right. Several thought-provoking conversations with close friends over the past two days. Wish I was in a better position to protect or comfort a couple people in particular.

I'm not emotionally invested enough in anyone right now to be concerned with my own heart being stomped, but I think I'm getting to the point where I'll be willing to risk it again. That thought worries me.

2010-02-01T23:46:00.002-06:00

Productivity - painted the kennels at work, studied for class tomorrow, did laundry, cleaned sinkful of dishes

Wine - halfway through second glass

Exercise - walked a couple miles with the dogs and did too many crunches

Retail therapy - black lacy underwear things, strawberries, blackberry cobbler ice cream

Friendship - talked to two beloved old friends in the same night, Thomas and 'Leja

Research - recommendations for school and landlord and jobs, finding a place to live in N Dallas and shooting off a few emails to realtors

...So what, again, do I do when nothing eases this restless yearning, this jittery uncertainty, this fear and doubt and fury?

2010-01-31T22:45:00.004-06:00

Three love letters.

#1

I wish I could express the depth of my sorrow, the magnitude of my love and respect for you.

"Strength" is a vague word. You possess many specific kinds of strength - self-discipline, endurance, consciously choosing compassion as an action rather than vindictiveness or shortsighted emotional outbursts.

Your toughness, creativity, and intelligence are inspiring. Your words make my throat tight. If there was any human way I could help you, I'd do it in a heartbeat. I think, though, that your life's way out of my league; I wish I could be there for you.

#2

Sweet surefooted lover, with your
wind-tangled hair and radiant smile

We ask nothing of one another,
and give everything

These moments are all we need

#3

Some things are this simple. It was that first meeting, that spark of recognition surging into a flame as your smile widened. I knew you, and you felt it too, with your eyes bright and warm. Lifelong friends in seconds.

You offer a meditation on wanderlust, on seeking out and soaring high and letting go of the illusion of control, giving yourself over to the wind and the flame.

I don't want you for myself. You're kin, not a partner. Your passion and tenacity remind me of who I strive to be.

2010-01-26T21:55:00.003-06:00

"My roommates even call if I'm out all night without telling them! And they cook for me when I forget to eat! They CARE!"

"I'm glad. 'Bout time you let someone take care of you."

If I was more awake, I'd be alarmed at how quickly I've returned to my one-woman-island mindset.

Do I really feel that seeking comfort or the feeling of being wanted is a sign of weakness? Probably.

Can I afford to feel anything else? No.

2010-01-26T21:43:00.002-06:00

Taking refuge in little notepad files and new classes and developing a routine that allows me to maintain health and sanity.

Struggling lately with this concept of the comfort of familiarity. Should I avoid both comfort and familiarity on principle, since they can contribute to complacency and settling and laziness? Or is that my macho complex + need for independence + fear of loss talking? I'm not contrary enough to avoid something solely because it's familiar, but this train of thought has just derailed and I'm going to bed.

2010-01-24T22:12:00.002-06:00

Insecurity looms, and sometimes I'm too weary to fight off doubt.

Sleeping with the Ban tonight, brindle breathing body pillow.