Resolved

Ok, so here is the plan. I have become, if it's even possible, more complacent since the baby came. It's time for me to start thinking way bigger and start doing way more.

So, be it resolved that I will do one thing-that-takes-actual-effort a week. I will write about it here.

That is all.

I want

Another baby
For someone to tell me what to do with my hair
New clothes
Cute boots
A home makeover
A more interesting job
A nanny
A bartender
More moneyA good night's sleep
For my husband to unload the dishwasher
New music for my ipod
A vacation
Somewhere fun to go
More gumption

Mushy

Cameron:

You are 6 months old and big! So Big! I say "hey fat baby!" when I talk to you, which makes you smile, but you're not so much fat, like rolly polly, as you are just a BIG BOY.

I want to take 5 million pictures of you every day, I want to capture your sweet toothless grin and your big wild afro. I want a keepsake to remember your yummy fat legs. The way you frown with concern, the mischievous look you get in your eyes when you tttthhhhh! and blow little beads of spit all over me (gross, kid).

Anyway, you're awsome is what I'm saying. You are my sweet little man. It is the sweet sadness of every parent to know that their growing baby is not the tiny, helpless creature he or she once was - and I am no different. Every day you are growing up and away from me. But I love you. And although some day I'll miss the baby you are right now, I can't wait to kick your butt into being the man that you should be.

My head is full of words these days. I think when I'm driving, I probably look like a crazy person, muttering and shaking my head. I am just overwhelmed with how Not Right certain things are. I am being such a shithead, I know.

I think I've realized a lot of things a lot of people have already realized before: racism exists, organized religion is mostly bullshit, people can be stubbornly stupid, etc.

In other news...my head is full of snot. My nose feels huge, I am a big whiney baby (as usual). The baby has whatever I have, but is actually not whiney at all. This should probably make me ashamed but it doesn't.

That's all for now. Have a great day!

Today's endorsement of Barack Obama by Colin Powell made everything better. Like on your birthday, when the day just has a heightened feeling of extra-goodness. As a matter of fact, I think Colin Powell should just go ahead and issue a common sense, thoughtful, rational thought of the week every week. It will make me feel less crazy. Although the truly stupid, racist and stubborn probably won't listen anyway.

It's gushing, I know, but I wish I could put into words how truly inspired I am by Sen. Obama. How amazing it is to be able to have another role model to show my son and stepson. How sorely black people in America were missing something huge to be proud of like this.

I've also been inspired to do more, give more, be more active. I've been trying to figure out how.

Part of the reason I now have perminant frown lines

So part of the magic that is Facebook is that I've been reunited with lots of people from my parents' very right wing religious church.

As of late, they've been posting lots of Anti-Obama video claiming he is anti-bible (he's a Christian) and somehow linking him to Ferrakhan. I could just un-friend them, but 1. I'm kind of crazy and 2. I like to see how the other half thinks.

Anyway, I had to say something after viewing the "Obama hates the bible video." I tried rationally telling her that it was probably wrong and got a shouty "god is gonna burn down the country in anger" email in reply.

This was my reply, it kind of puts a finger on part of the reason Christians are pissing me off these days.


I guess the point I was trying to make is this: To me, that video was not made to enlighten, to give hope. That video was made so that Christians like you and I could be made fearful and angry. So that we could see that and be hurt "how dare he mock the Bible, that we hold so dear."

But as Christians, what do we have to fear? How can we not be hopeful? What good is it to spread things like that that bring up such negative feelings when the God we worship is so much larger than Obama, McCain, Palin or Biden?

So what if Obama was mocking the bible in that video (which I don't think he was) - think of the Christians who have truly lived in times where Christianity was not only mocked, but outlawed. Those who tried to outlaw it didn't have the power to stop it, and their efforts didn't stop Christians from believing.

I worry that the spread of videos like that one, and others that I've seen posted will only divide us more. And what good is division when the world needs the church so badly!

In that link I sent you, Obama states that he is a Christian. As our Christian brother, I believe we are called to pray for him and love him, even if we don't agree with everything he does. Even as I write this, I am reminding myself that I have to do the same for Sarah Palin, who is not my most favorite person ever.

Our nation's fabric is shredded, but fear and anger won't help. But I think love and prayer will.

-Lisa

a ramble

**Reposted from Facebook**

Ok this might be ugly but I need to get this off my chest.

I just saw that there is a facebook group called "Pray for Sarah palin." This is the problem I have with religion right now. Wouldn't the Godly thing be to start a group called "Pray for our country" or "Pray that the right leader is selected"?

Now, I am an Obama supporter, so I'll admit I'm a bit biased, but I need to know -- what makes Sarah Palin so holy? I know that she is against abortion in any case, but...um...that's about it. I'm not being sarcastic, I really haven't seen anything else.

If we're going by politicians who have publicly declared Christianity, Barack Obama has done that, too.

Christian to me is: Who has she helped? Has she been honest? Has she done good things with her power? Does she look out for her fellow man? I'm not saying she hasn't done these things, I just haven't seen them and I'm wondering if her supporters have, either.

Here's what I want. I want a world where we're not being baked alive by global warming. I want a government that respects my intelligence enough to be honest with me and not give me a bunch of double talk. I want a country where people who have had abortions, are gay, are black, are ugly, are poor, can have a fair shot at a life without fear or shame or intimidation. I want a country that respects and celebrates rational thinking and embraces new ideas.

I don't know. I've had a glass of wine and I'm nervous about my future. But I'd like to hear other opinions, too. I could be wrong.

I realized today that the countdown is on until my 28th birthday. My graduating class in high school has a facebook group (everything in the world has a facebook group, btw) and there is just a two word summary: "We're old."

Of course, 28 is far from old, but it's not young either. At this point, if you're a trifling fuck-up, you don't have the excuse of inexperience to bail you out. When people talk about you they say you're old enough to know better.

I feel like I have changed a lot in my 27th year. I think I have gotten a lot less lazy, more organized. I am a teeny, tiny step in figuring out what I want out of life. Not that I know, mind you, but I know enough to ask myself what I want.

I have been working on what I think and what I believe lately. I read a post from this guy (link here) where he invokes The Secret and how what you think can become a reality. He was talking about Sarah Palin, her terrifying popularity, and the fear that many have (myself included) that this is just another step toward fear and control and forced religion. So I've been trying to be more positive in my thoughts in that respect. I've never read The Secret and I'm a little wary of Oprah's new-age hokeyness, but I do think what we think becomes our reality.

So, anyway, that made me think about my own life. About how much I fall into playing the victim, how comfortable I am saying "woe-is-me." I thought to myself, I need to envision the life I want, envision yourself powerful and active. And you know what? I couldn't. I can't. I have built quite a hill of passiveness for myself.

Exhaling, pushing, writing. Three things that are harder than you might think. Whenever I sit down to write, I notice that my shoulders tense up. They are hunched up toward my ears. That's the part of my brain that wants to come up with what's already been written. I want to be as great as all the greats before. Which is about as likely to happen as me forcing myself to look like Naomi Campbell. I can only be me.

Push, push, push took on a whole new meaning for me when I was numb from the waist down and pushing out 8 pounds, 10 ounces of baby boy. It felt just like working out to me. Hard, harder than anythhing. But good, too because I knew something right was happening. I caught the rhythm of how you're supposed to push. The doctor tries to explain it to you, but it can't really be explained -- you just have to get it. It's a cross between pooping and riding out a bubble. Weird and gross, I know, but true for me.

Writing is exhaling, pushing, overcoming, all of the hardest, best things for me. I create a huge junkpile of hopes, wishes, cliches, pains, hurts, fears, successes, failures, everything - and then I have to pick my way over them to come up with, well, this. It's hard but good, too, because I know something right is happening.

Here's what I believe.

I believe you can love God, love your country and love and support Gay and Lesbian friends and family.

I believe in the power of the bible, but I don't believe it should be used as the only basis on which to run my country.

I believe that a woman should have a right to choose whether or not to have an abortion, and that either way, it is my God-given responsibility to love and support her.

I believe that many Christians who sincerely love God and want to do the right thing are being swindled by the Republican party. I believe the things they hold most dear are being used against them in the most cynical, un-Godly way.

I believe that we cannot pander to those who are close-minded and stupid. I believe the days of the lowest-common-denominator are over.

I believe in love and liberty and fairness and responsibility. I believe that I owe it to my country to do my part.

I am a Christian and I am a proud Democrat. Shocker, huh?

Dear Gov. Palin

Dear Gov. Palin,

Nice job on your speech last night. I won't insult you by implying you didn't write it yourself. You got a lot of good one-liners in there.

But here's the thing. I'm not buying your story. I don't want "just a mom" (pit-bull or no) a heartbeat away from the presidency. Not that there's anything wrong with being a mom - I recently became one too, and know it's not easy.

What I'm saying is that you guys (Republicans, I mean) already pulled one over on the country by selling your candidate as "one of us" and look where that's gotten us. I don't want my drinking buddy to be my president. And please don't think for a minute I believe you, your hockey team or your "First Guy" will be anything more than a figurehead in the tragic event that John McCain takes office. I'm thinking the plan is: he screw things up some more -- you come out, appeal to the masses with your plain talk, and middle America is happy again.

Which brings me to the subject of words and language. I am offended by you and your party's attempts to downplay Barack Obama as "just words." In a civilized society, words and ideas create change. Words make up the Declaration of Independence. Words make up the Bible for Pete's sake!

And one more thing, because I know you have Trooper-gate to attend to, lets talk about that witty little one-liner about community organizers. I'm going to let you in on a little secret. Community organizers are the heart of this country. They are the ones doing the dirty work - feeding the hungry, housing the homeless, helping single moms (you may know something about that). They are the real agents of change and you just brushed them off.

Thanks for letting me get this off my chest. And just so we're still cool - I must say your hair did look very pretty last night.

Kisses!

Lisa

Right now

Hi. I'm tired. I'm always tired when there's finally time enough for updating here.

There is a baby upstairs who is trying to get up a good cry because he's pissed that it's bed time and he's tired.

Giuliani is speaking a bunch of crap at the RNC. They've got the New York skyline behind him for goodness sake! I think he's gonna ride the whole September 11 thing out for as long as he can, even though he obviously didn't win him the presidential nomination. Also: they just showed Palin's knocked-up daughter. Poor kid. Also, AWK-ward. Haven't seen the baby daddy just yet.

Lets be honest here. I am trying to write and it is hard. I can't hammer down a clear thought. I can't even begin to conceive of an original thought. I have started this entry two times before I said fuck it and just started writing shit. How can I capture myself on this thing? List a bunch of songs I like? Talk about my baby a lot? Who knows.

Soon, it'll be our first wedding anneversary. I am going to try to overcome my laziness and plan an EVENT with music and food and a cute dress for me.

I like weddings, oh - I went to one today, btw - because they make me think about love and all types of smooshy stuff like that. I actually haven't been to many weddings in my life. A few of my cousins (and I, of course) all got engaged around the same time, so now they (the weddings, I mean) have been coming on like gangbusters. So even though it's mushy, I think it's not bad to get together in a church or some other beautiful space, and think about love for a little while.

The End

Girl Crush

I can't help it - I am completely gushy over Michelle Obama. It's ridiculous, I know. But really, I can't help it. It has been such a pleasure to see such a beautiful black family in the national spotlight. Black people have been giving such shit for the last 20 years, and our image in the media has been so bleak, that it's just refreshing. Also, her hair is just so damn pretty and her taste is pretty much impeccable.

Trying to be appreciative and positive and positive and productive when all I really want to do is bitch. I have been feeling sluggish for the last few days because my sinuses are trying to disintegrate my head from the inside out. Wah wah wah. I know that it's nothing but I still feel like a big old bitch.

Things I feel I should be doing include: cherishing every precious moment with my son, being happy my current job lets me stay home with him, looking for a new job, eating healthfully.

Instead, I am: revelling in the fact that the kid's asleep, hating the fact that my job is so painfully boring and unstimulating (according to spellcheck, that is not a real word but whatever), not looking for a job because I suck, eating leftover pizza.

Currently buzzing on caffeine and watching Project Runway. Don't have anything specific to say, but wanted to make myself write to keep the creativity ball rolling.

I made some calls and applied for some jobs yesterday. I hate it, always. But I have to do it because that's the only way I'll get to where I want to be. Where is that? Uh...I dunno, but I'll know it when I find it.

Well, that's not entirely true. I'd like to report, but not like I'm reporting now. I want a voice that is mine - not just generic information. I saw that a few of the places I'm looking at have blogs. One of them has blogs that are lame-o. Maybe that could be a niche I could fill? I think the most important part is reaching out to the outside world. Not being so scared my whole life. I am insulated, that's why I'm stuck in the place (career-wise) that I am now.

Every few months (years?) I find myself looking for art. I get to the point where I'm sick of my brain turning to mush, and start looking for creativity. I guess I'm in one of those cycles now. What will come of it, I wonder?

ladies' night

ladies' night, originally uploaded by lsnowden.1980.

Though you can't tell it, these shoes are Cute. Very Cute.

These very shoes were on my feet the night I learned what countless adults have learned before me. That is to say, you can't go home again.

The club, or at least, this club, is for those who want to be quickly separated from their money, be hit on by losers and try to make the best of it to horrible, horrible djs.

Also, ladies of the Md.VA.DC area? Matching your earings to your panties is problimatic for many, many reasons.

times that i've expected one thing and got another:

-when i was younger, i guess I expected to get married and have a kid, but I never expected it would come so soon, or that I'd still feel like myself.
-I expected to be some kind of high-powered journalist who stomped around in power suits (a la Murphy Brown). Instead, my career has been a little...um...slower in taking off.
-When I was a scrawny, awkward kid, I expected to be hott when I was a teenager, like I was a cast member from Saved by the Bell. Instead, I was a scrawny, awkward teenager. I'm hott now though, so it's ok.
-I had no expectations for who my husband would be, except that he'd be very adult and wear suits a lot (I don't know what it was with me and the suits. My husband says 'fuck' a lot and mostly wears polo shirts -- unless he's doing his all-black architect thing
-I kind of thought it was possible that my child would be ugly. I have no idea why. Anyway, he is cute! Yay!
-Due to a very religious upbringing, I kind of thought I wouldn't even make it to this age, and that I'd be swept up in the Rapture? Which I was supposed to be happy about? But instead dreaded and jumped everytime I heard a loud horn or alarm? Instead, I'm still here. But I'm still a little nervous about the whole rapture thing.

Well that was kind of a downer, wasn't it.

I am currently not so much inside my head as I was last night. As a matter of fact, I am "working," screwing around on the internet and watching Judge Mathis. I don't know why I have this weird attachment to Judge Mathis - he's not as sassy as Judge Judy and doesn't really dig into dumbasses the way she does. Also, he has the sleazy charm of your friend's overconfident, younger-woman loving uncle.

I have been much more enamored of the internet lately. I think because of this year's round of Blogher posts. A lot of the ladies from he blogs I read daily went and I think the whole sense of community and bonding with fellow weirdo writers sounds like a good thing. Especially to me now, when I feel like I'm kind of floundering in that arena.

I actually hate every entry I write on this damned thing and find it incredibly boring. But I think deep down, I'm not a bad writer, just gotta keep at it.

loss

I'd like to find the words to talk about how much being a mother hurts. What I mean is, how once you have met baby and felt that indescribable perfect/mushy/overwhelming feeling, there is the dark underside of pain and loss.

In the past few days, I have stumbled upon blogs written by women who have lost very young babies. I have gotten sucked in, and then, suddenly and without much thought, I've cried.

Having the good in life, for me, right now, feels like the bad and dark and painful are lurking around the corner. And who is to say it's not? Those women had perfect innocent beautiful babies. How could we live in a world where such hurt is possible? How can I stop some disease, some sick person, some anything from stealing my baby from me? I want to gather everyone I love around me and keep them there. I want to enjoy my baby without imagining the horrible possibilities.

Black Woman in America

So...I'm watching CNN's Black in America special.

I've missed most of it this week because of a conference from work. So today's topic is The Black Woman. Yikes.

The plight of the black women is a touchy, painful subject. There is so much that can't be captured. Our feelings about our hair, our skin, our features. Our feelings about our black men (and sometimes the white women they love). What we can accomplish, what we can expect. We live in a world that has been desegregated, a world where Oprah is the queen of everything, but we still carry wounds that haven't begun to heal.

So far, the show has profiled a single, poor black women who has had 5 children out of wedlock and two single black women who have education, but not a man. But I haven't seen myself. I'm educated, I have a black husband, I feel pretty comfortable in the working world. Am I an anomaly? Just lucky? I don't know, but I do know I've already seen these women. I want to see change, I want to see happy women, successful comfortable everyday women. Am I naive in thinking they are out there?

Aahhhh

One of the things about my life that's changed since having a baby is that those moments where I don't have one person attached to a boob, and another person trying to attach himself to other places (ahem) are so freaking sweet.

Like right now. I cannot imagine a better scenario that me, kicked back on the old futon with an ice cold coke and some shrimp fried rice watching tv.

Right now I am feeling very tired, very lucky, very overwhelmed and very ungrateful.

Tired because, duh, I'm always tired. Lucky because I get to spend most of my days with my baby (which, since I'm breastfeeding, cuts out a lot of pumping annoyance) but overwhelmed because - oh shit, I spend most of my days with my baby. While "working" (the less that is said about that, especially on the Internet, the better). I feel ungrateful because even though I know life is sweet right now, I can't help but focus on the things I don't have. Well specifically the money I don't have to buy whatever it is I think I want at the moment. But it's also the life I don't have. The courage I don't have. The gumption I don't have.

My husband tells me he gets tired of my whining, which actually makes me feel like I made the right choice in marrying him. I need somebody to kick my butt sometimes. I need to be woken up.

And here I am again. This is part 3,423 of me trying to blog a little every day. I feel like my brain is slowly turning to mush, what with the baby and the stupefyingly dumb coworkers I have, so I'm one again trying to appeal to the right side of my brain to not give up and jump ship.

The good news is that I'm not nearly as frightened of my baby as I was the last time I wrote here. I can usually tell what he's crying about and I don't feel like I'll never ever leave the house again. I'm not gonna lie though, it's just easier some times to stay home. I can understand how people have kids and get fat and watch tv all the time.

Things that are going on right now are:
-being a momma is forcing me to keep doing stuff even when I want to go to bed
-I feel creatively retarded right now, like I'll never be where I want to be as a writer
-Today, Jerryn and I had our first fight where I was not afraid it would be the end of our relationship...I could let it go for a while without feeling the need to call him immediately and resolve the issue.

Blah blah blah. I'm making myself write so that I'm not obsessed with baby stuff. Or episiotomy stitches. I don't have much to say, though. I mean other than baby stuff. I spend my days nervous about whether he's eating enough and lamenting my sore boobs. I get weepy sometimes. I know nothing about different types of bottles. I watch my mother in law clean my house and feel only slightly ashamed of myself.

I don't have a hobby. I watch a lot of judge shows. That's what's going on with me right now.

Raw

I am scared now that i'm a mother. I'm scared that he's not eating enough. I am raw with worry. I want to stop. I want a break. Which is crazy because I have all the help in the world. But, it's just that this is forever. Cameron's not going home after a while - he is home. And the possibilities of what kind of mother I'll be, what kind of family we'll be, what kind of person he'll be - are endless.
I have to get a hold on myself. I have anxiety, which is normal, and I need to remember that. I can't let it rule my life. I will be happy damn it.

Life is very sweet right now. There is a squirmy baby in my belly. I am married, and happily so. Things have taken an upturn in my career. Things are good and I am so very greatful for that.

That said, I have some things I'd like to work on for the coming year. The consensus with most people is that New Year's resolutions suck - and maybe they do - but I think now is the perfect time to take inventory of what's going on in my life and set some goals for myself.

I'd like to open up my life a little more. When things were getting out of control and I was going through my depression, several people were purged out of my life. I say it like that because it's not like I woke up and said 'I don't want to be friends with x, so I won't.' Rather, we just stopped identifying. Conversations got strained and uncomfortable. I got really fucking horrible about returning phone calls. After that, my circle of friends was more like a triangle. Including my husband, I have about three people I can call up and bug when I'm bored. Other than that, I've been doing a lot of hanging out with people my husband knows. So, I'd like to open myself up to the possibility of new friends of my own.

I need to challenge my brain more. Pregnancy has made it very easy for me to lie in bed watching tv while my brain and butt turn to mush. I want to find some kind of hobby to keep myself occupied and to learn new things. I'd also like to read more.

That's all I can think of right now, and frankly, it's enough. Adios for now

Today I learned

Today I learned that I want to be a great writer, not just an employed writer (though I pretty much already knew that; I forget sometimes.)
I learned that I want to speak my mind
That I have something to offer
That I really am passionate about journalism, it's not just a line on my cover letter
That I'm going to start ruffling some feathers, and I'm going to enjoy it.

I think the baby crazies are finally getting to me. I was a raving, emotional bitch this weekend, and the past few days I have been in a bit of a funk. At 24 weeks, I now look like I have something about the size of a soccer ball shoved down my shirt. And my ass is getting bigger, too - I guess it doesn't want my tummy to feel alone.

I'm figuring out more and more lately that if I want something, I'm going to have to work for it. Nothing comes easy. That applies to my job, this blog (which I am barely tending to, obv.) and even superficial shit like my hair. I know it's an obvious to most people, but oh well - I guess I'm slow to learn sometimes.

My major goal right now is to drum up some freelance writing work. I feel like I am sooooo far away from it happening. I had a burst of energy a few weeks ago, and even made a connection with a paper here in Baltimore, but so far that seems to be languishing in the background. I know I need to keep moving forward. I need some more ideas as to how to do that.

Baby!

Sometimes I begin to kind of wrap my head around the fact that there is a tiny person with a tiny penis living inside me -- and it freaks me the fuck out.

Something Real

I titled this post with nothing specific to say in mind, except that I am looking for something real.

I clutter my mind with crap entertainment but there are things that I want, things that are important to me.

I met someone last weekend and she told me I should start calling myself a 'journalist' when someone asks what I do. My normal reaction is to say I write for a website, but that sounds kind of sheepish and half-assed. Journalist is real because journalist is what I want to be.

One Thing

I'm determined that I can work for the life I want. I am blessed with many things, but there is one major, career thing that is sucking away a lot of my happiness. I want to be able to enjoy certain aspects of my life other than work, and I'd also like to be a lot more comfortable money-wise and I need to work hard to make that happen.

Some excuses

Some excuses I've made for being the fabulous writer I'm supposed to be:

-I'm not ready yet; I need more practice
-I don't know what to do
-I'm too shy
-I need someone to help me

Bullshit. I am not meant to be in the place I'm in (at least jobwise) forever.

Also, I'm heartened by yesterday's Jena 6 rally. I love black people and see the potential in them, too.

Oh yeah, I have a blog

Here's where I am right now.

1. I'm pushing myself through. I'm slowly (sometimes too slowly) making myself be a responsible adult when I don't want to. Physically, I feel sick. Mentally, I feel dull. Eating small meals frequently sometimes helps with the nausea. Pushing things around the house in a half-assed attempt at cleaning makes me feel like I wasn't put on this earth just to take up space.

2. It's hot. August is summer's raggedy remains. I'm ready for fall.

Lethargy

Sometimes I feel like I want to be bored. I have been going through some major things (of which I will write about later) and my response to these big, swift changes has been to stop and become very inactive.

Lying around in bed satisfies an immediate need, but deep in the back of my brain, something is unhappy and begins to feel very, very sorry for myself and my life and all the blessings that I've been given.

So that's where I am right now. Peeling away layers of a way of living that I find inadequate and dangerous.

checking in

things are moving quickly in my life right now. work was pretty demanding this week - i was running around actually being a journalist. wedding stuff is on track. the only loose end is my bridal shower. that is actually freaking me out. what if no one comes? where to register? is registering tacky? I think there's the faintest whiff of tacky, but I don't want my 70-something aunt buying me bright red undies either. There are deeper things I want to talk about, but i'm feeling lazy tonight. stories for another time....

Sluggish

I'm writing this so i won't feel bad that I've been in bed, watching TV and talking on the phone for the last two hours.
How do people work full-time jobs and then come home to lead productive lives? I know I need to exercise more and eat my fruits and veggies - but then what would I have to feel guilty about if I did that?

I've been trying really hard to turn my anxiety into positive energy. Pms, or stress, or something has me bitchy and ungrateful and feeling unaccomplished. Instead of buckling under that energy, I've been trying to look at it from a more positive side - it's the part of me that's not happy settling. I'll find my groove because the annoying little bitch who lives inside me won't have it any other way.

I am unforgiving when it comes to certain people. I had a friend who, well, our friendship kind of just unraveled. What started out as a party-girl, together 24/7, I-trust-you kind of friendship kind of de-evolved into phony nicities and phone calls I didn't want to return.

Anyway, like I said, I'm unforgiving. I don't trust a simple hello. I assign everything the particular person does an ulterior motive. I judge, I look down on, I poke fun at. And then, just cause I'm me, I feel guilty.

About Me

About me: I am and will always be goofy. I'm goofy in jeans and a t-shirt and I'll be goofy in a wedding dress. I am, and will always be, hopelessly devoted to Jerryn, Large Sunglasses and Writing. In that order.

I am lazy, wishy-washy and jealous.

I am smart, good conversation and quirky.

I get caught up in the details. I devour books. I write for fun and personal torture.

Jambalaya

I am a jumble of strengths and insecurities.

I'm ashamed of myself. I am strong. I am not ashamed.

I have shame about who I am. I am not good enough just as I am. That's what I'm fighting every day. But I'm a fighter.

There is the load I'm pushing uphill every time I switch on my left brain (right brain?) to write. Every time I stretch myself to change. It's an energy, a responsibility, a weight. I am using my energy to bring about change in myself.

I am not dragging around has-been and was. But there is part of me that wants to.

I've been confronted over the last few years with my real, true self. I hated the parts of me that were ugly. The parts that aren't pretty or photogenic. The parts that no one would want.

But there's beauty, too. I'm working to embrace it.

I've been running away from the work ahead of me because it seems so large, so unfathomable. It was dumped in my lap after I graduated - a big unformed mess.

"There 'ya go," something said. Make something of it. Make something of your self. My words have power and can be used as weapons. They can be wielded.

The future is not something to fear.

Yuck. I can do it.

Only I can have my voice and it's special. There is no other voice like it.

I want

I spend a lot of time thinking about what I want, but if you asked me, I still couldn't tell you.

I want creativity, happiness, comfort.
I want stuff: books, towels, lotion, bath oil.
I want hair that I can go out in the rain with. I don't want the little bumps that spring up on my forehead sometimes.

I want for the life inside my head to match with the one I actually have. I want realities and I don't want to wait for them. I want another job, or to be happier with this one. I want to be good at something. I want to know what that something is.

Uphill

I've been writing for a paycheck for the last hm....four years now. But, writing here feels completely different. I feel like I'm just beginning to think in a different way. Words are harder to find here. But then again, there's no one to interview and no research to do.

I don't feel a spark yet. But I'm going to keep trying.

Engaged

Engaged:
Means you're supposed to be very, very happy all the time.
Means people ask 'how's the wedding?' Which is good because it gives an extra topic for polite conversation
Means even, when you thought you'd be the most un-bridezilla ever, you light up when people ask 'how's the wedding?'
Means cleaning up together, watching tv together, figuring out who's gonna take out the trash and thinking 'this is the rest of my life'
Means seeing layers in him that no one else does and loving each one
Means seeing where love takes you
Means a pretty new dress and a long vacation
Means change that is both mind-shattering and completely natural

B-E-AGGRESSIVE

Tonight, I've been inspired by - of all things - BET. I talk a lot of shit about BET, I talk a lot of shit about the people who appear on BET. But the thing is - they're doing something. They are out there. They are putting themselves out there.

That's what I want to do.

I have to check myself when I think about this blog sometimes. I tell myself that I'm just writing to write. That's crap though. I'm writing this because I'm a writer, I want my words to be heard, and, dammit, I want some attention for the words I write.

So, I'll keep plugging along. Through fear, bad writing, insecurity. Not because I want to be on BET. But because I've decided to be bold enough to chase my dream aggressively.

or consequence

The truth is, I don't feel like there's much for me to write about my life.
The truth is, I want to sound cool on the internet.
The truth is, I'm not.
The truth is, I'm kind of an asshole sometimes
The truth is, I'm lazy
The truth is, lazy feels like a heavy anchor around my neck
The truth is, I'm not happy with myself
The truth is, I need to push myself more
The truth is, I fear I'm not really creative
The truth is, although I write for a living, I don't see myself as a real writer
The truth is, this is more pity-party than i wanted it to be.

Today I learned

Today I learned

1. that if you perform cpr on someone, chances are high that they will vomit on you.
2. an EMT coworker has seen her fair share of naked dead old men
3. it's going to be quite some time before I am comfortable with myself or know what the hell I'm doing.

I don't care if you *are* studying

If you are playing music
and it's loud and good
don't be mad when I come
shake my thang

be grateful you get to see it.

Office Space

Roughly eight hours a day, five days a week, I sit inside a cubicle.

In my short, post-graduate career, I've never had to sit inside a cubicle, and it took some getting used to. It was freaky in those first few days - just me, my computer and three-and-a-half grey walls. Knowing that there were other people surrounding me, also in their three-and-a-half grey walls. If I were to stand up, I could see the top of their heads. I kinda wished I had a door, something to make it like an official office - but it wasn't to be.

I write this only to say this: if I'm eating, do not lean your heand and body into my cubicle! It makes me feel like a caged animal! Sheesh....

Well, hello blog. It seems I'm back.

It would also seem that I, well, don't have anything interesting to say at the moment.

How do writers write? How do sharers share. Dammit...I think I might suck at this. Oh well. I'll keep trying

More of the same

I wish I had the ability to write a post about feeling not-so-great without sounding like a whiny looser. But I don't. At least not yet. So here goes...

Today I had a problem at work with a co-worker who is type-A to the nth degree to my low-key slacker. I got so upset because it brought up questions I didn't have answers for. What am I doing?! What kind of writer am I?! What makes me happy, what fulfills me, what am I supposed to be doing?

I don't have answers to those questions. And fear makes me not want to answer them. Fear and laziness. I feel like those are two weights around my neck, and I'm fighting to run a race in spite of them.

here i am again, plus one new job, minus a prescription for my crazy pills. I gave up my job. I didn't pre-plan it, just did it one day when I decided I'd had enough. Then, I got another one. And that's why I'm writing. I drive an hour each way to write about...something I'm not crazy about. I don't know what i'm doing. I'm scared I'm making a fool of myself, I just want to stop.

Like, forget it, I don't want to work anymore. I don't want to write. I can't because it's hard. And I'm winey.

I hate myself and my stupid brain. Why isn't it satisfied and why am I so lazy?

what have I been feeling:
I have been feeling...ok. That is, I think I'm coming to terms with the whole life thing. I mean, things will never ever be perfect and that's ok. I recently took a trip to St. Thomas which was probably the best vacation I've ever had, and still, that wasn't perfect. Which is fine. During the parts that sucked, I just said to myself 'This will be over, just like everything. Just bear it and probably something more fun will happen next.' And sure enough, it was, and it did and everything was lovely.

Also, I'm learning to get over hatred of my own voice (well, my writing voice). I'm not going to stop writing just because an asshole lives in my brain.

Adding to my zeniness, two people I know died after suffering for some time. People die. Life is 'whatever' and then it's done. There are good things, there are bad things, there are horrible things, and then....something. The end?

yes, the end.

I've been thinking a lot lately about courage and strength. I've been thinking about people who's courage I admire and I've been thinking just how much I might have in my own personal stores. Sometimes, it's good for me to borrow a bit of another person's resiliance in the midst of their own challenges. Sometimes I have to remind myself that if I just keep moving, the simple act of holding my head up and keeping it up is enough. Maybe that's what courage is. The willpower to keep trying.

In a random burst of daring, I took myself out last night.

I dressed up in my most favorite going out shoes (and, you know, some clothes) and took myself to a nice bar where I had one-and-a-half drinks and some crab dip.

And it wasn't bad. But it was weird.

I need to do more things like that. I need to keep pushing my boundries, making my world as big and rich as I can.

This morning, I woke up in a better mood than I did the morning before. I can't help but think it was my little bit of something different that caused that.

Isn't it just like life that the second I'm feeling good, the second I'm feeling centered, *woosh!* things change again.

I feel as though I won't make it, but I know I will because I have to.

This is the time where I should be taking my head out of my ass. This is the time where I need to be keeping myself busy. This is the time where I'm supposed to be reminding myself that everyone has problems.

I know that.

But I'm so tired of living in the space where I am. I want something to hold on to. I want something to make me happy and satisfied. How do I get to that?

I have always known I wanted to be a writer. I've always been a writer through and through. But why can't I write? I need a creative boost. I need a kick in the head.

Today I pretended that my on-vacation life is my real life. What if I didn't have to go to my soul-crushing brain-numbing job? What if I got to get up, watch Golden Girls and pick my nose for a couple of hours? What would I want to do when all the boogers were gone? The only answer I could come up with is that I'd like to be creative and I'd like to write.

Then the doubting thoughts come. Maybe I'm not good at writing? Maybe I'm no good at anything creative at all? But, ah fuck it, I finally thought. Nobody got anywhere thinking those kind of thoughts, I thought. And anyhoo, whoever decided that lack of talent should stop any artist.

I'm reading this new book about worrying. Because I'd like to be a normal person one day. Anyway, this book says that I should focus on today and today only. What's in the past is done and the future's only a hope, the writer says. The thought of that is indeed reassuring and I felt my body relax a little when I read it. Today has been about relaxing and calming and being by myself. Being alone can be a little intimidating becaue then I'm stuck with my crazy brain and all it's neuroticisms and worries, but today it's been about no expectations and doing what I can. I took a brief, hot walk which was nice I guess. I read a book and right now, I'm doing some laundry. All in all, I've been pretty content with myself.

What in the holy hell is happening to me?

That's what I'm asking myself when I'm not curled up in fetal position or trying to imitate a normal person. What the hell changed? what the hell is different? I've never been so uncomfortable in my own skin. I've never been so scared of life. I feel like I'm stuck in the before of my story and I don't want to make any mistakes that could effect the after. If I do, I reason, I'll be able to pinpoint exactly what went wrong; I'll know exactly what I shouldn't have done.

day 1

I have a week's worth of vacation coming up, with no money to spend on a trip and therefore oodles of time on my hands. And oodles of things on my brain.

My goal this week is to have no goals at all. Except this one: I'd like to write once a day.

I say this because I want to write, I want to do something all the time. But I dont do jack shit. I think maybe I have to invest something in this life of mine before I can get anything back. At any rate, I should be using this laptop for something besides porn.

Anyway, there it is. I've written today.

See you tomorrow.

You know how some people get adult acne? I think I'm experiencing adult puberty.

At least once a week I feel angsty and worthless and ugly. I feel stuck and helpless and when this feeling comes, no amount of journal writing, crying, ice cream, even (sigh)meds will make it go away. I just have to sit in it while it lasts.

The problem is, I think, dissatisfaction. I want to have something going on for myself. Sure, I do have a lovely supportive family, an awsome and cute boyfriend, and a way of making money (which I realize - is way more than most people could ask for) but I want to be good at something. I want to be passionate about something. I at least want to be advancing in my career, please.

Gah.

And as long as I'm feeling all teenagery, could I have no bills and some kind of a winter formal to be looking forward to? At the very least, could I get my mom to drive me to the mall?

Thank you for beauty. A beautiful weekend, beautiful writing, beautiful art.

Today I'm praying for bravery.

here's...um...something

maybe i have to give something up to get some peace
maybe i have to drop something so that my hands will be ready to accept
there are dreams we hold that float high above our heads like kites
there are hurts we hold that dig deeper every day
sometimes you have to give, up
to truly live.

I have things to be exited about! I am looking at the world in a different way. Things are beginning to open up and I'm eying up roads I was too scared to even think of traveling before.

There is so much for me to do, so much that still needs to be fixed, but I'm changing.

some things I'm thinking about:

1. I feel bad because I'm not doing what I'm supposed to do. I'm not contributing anything to the world. I'm not doing anything to change my job situation.

2. There is a bunch of hurt and anger that I have to deal with. I have to deal with it in a healthy way. This sadness is not hurting anybody but me, and it's not helping me better my situation.

3. I feel sorry for myself.

Taking Stock

One of the hallmarks of insecurity, I think, is the capacity to be knocked on your ass by just a few words.

Today I was reading another blog and the writer was talking about how she fought her way to become a young producer in a newsroom where most of the producers were much older. She wrote about how she's not at the place where, as a producer in New York city, she's blase' about working with the likes of Barbara Walters.

Sigh.

So I thought about me, and how it seems like I'm not even at the beginning of my struggle. Well, that's not entirely true. It's more like I'm stuck on a step. There is so much more I need to do. I have some talent; I'm an ok writer and an ok photogropher. But I know I need more developing. I need to figure out how to get it.

There is so much I'd like to accomplish in my life. I'd like to write and create art. I'd like to work in news. And, if we're gonna go all out, I'd like to have babies and get married to boot.

I need to learn how to sell myself, I need to get the self confidence to talk to people, I need to be the best writer I can be.

things have been so twisted, so absurd, so silly...that there is no more fairytale in our romance.
which sounds bad
but that leaves room for real happiness
which I prefer infinitely.

scared

I'm learning the difference between being afraid and being anxious. When I'm anxious, I am afraid of everything. When I'm anxious there's no floor beneath me and no security anywhere. When I'm anxious, my heart is broken and I don't know why. When I'm anxious, I'm scared and alone. When I'm anxious there is no such thing as reason.

I don't want to live in a life where anxiety can come out of nowhere and incapacitate me. I know it's a funky thing in my brain, and not something that I'm doing 'wrong.' I don't know how to get out of it.

I love you

Hello. It occured to me just now that perhaps you would be interested in knowing what I love.

What's that? You're not? There's no one reading?

Nevertheless, I'll soldier on.

1. I love to take pictures. I do. Even when I don't have a camera with me (I'm without the convenience of a digital camera, I'll catch an interesting scene and kind of hold it in my mind.

2. I love good food. I think this will take some work to explain. I'm a very picky eater, so I'm not one to try anything and everyting. But if something does fit within the parameters of what I'll eat, I'll savor it. Also, I've been skinny all my life. So I think I hold a special place in my heart for things that are deliciously greasy and bad for me. I think they'll give me the hips and boobs and booty I've always wanted.

3. I love to be by myself. That's when I have my best thoughts. And I can be as bitchy and weird as I want.

Frat Boy Magic

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Originally uploaded by lsnowden.1980.

New York City On St. Patty's Day = This times 100

There is happiness out there.. I can get to it.
That's all for now.
Thanks

right now

I've been thinking today about how short-sited I've been about my career. I've been looking at the space in front of me and not at the big picture. There really shouldn't be anything stopping me from being happy right now, in the place I am in right now. Everything in life is temporary. Nothing is promised but right now.

him

I don't want this to be a mistake, this love that I have.
I've been chasing it, then running away for the past year now, and I don't want to run anymore.I want to embrace the fact that I am allowed to be this happy, that I am allowed to grow and blossom into whoever I want to be. I want to really be this lucky, forever.

This is where I am:
In love - sometimes reluctantly so
living in a cute apartment
trying to drink eight glasses of water a day
wondering about my future
leaning on my parents in a completely different way
wanting to be a good writer
craving a cran and vodka
loving my ipod
not hurting today
immersed in the act of living

joy

I don't know if it's the spring in the air or the breakfast in my belly, but I feel good.

I don't have anything else to say really. Just wanted to put that out there to boost the number of non-woe-is-me posts on This Blog(tm).

Kisses!

I am hovering. Waiting.

This can't be who I am or who I'm supposed to be. There is no art here and I long for art. There's no happiness here for me.

I don't care about how well I perform and that hurts me and makes my mind feel dull. My eys are tired of watching the same thing all day long.

I feel trapped and angry. I have to calm down so I can find my way out.

There is more, I know.

Augh!!! What the Fuck??!! JKLAFJKSLKDKFJKDJKFKDK
Seriously.
I am not good at a lot of things.
I can't pay a fucking bill on time to save my life. I'm kind of emotionally retarded. My hair looks like shit sometimes.
But I know two things: a good [fucking] picture and how to write a simple [fucking] story.

So why is it that this fucking place is messing with my two fucking talents.

Jesus and Lordhavemercy.

petty, bitchy me

I'm wearing my unhappiness on the outside and i'm not wearing it well. What I mean is, I'm unhappy and it sucks and I'm being a huge bitch.

I think, maybe, I need to set some goals for myself. And what's the best thing about a goal? The reward! Right?

Anyway, maybe it could go like this: I will have a job by August. That gives me a good 6 months. In August, on August 1, 2006 => I will not only have a new job, but a fabulous article of clothing. This article of clothing must cost at least $250.

It's the shallow little things that make me happy.

i'm good at two kinds of writing: methodical and emotional.

Methodical writing is what pays the bills. Newswriting, at least the way I do it, is easy; who,what,when,where,why. My words are utilitarian. They get the point across without being slowed by bells and whistles.

Emotional writing is my word vomit. it's what i do when i can't take it anymore. It's for when the mopey 13-year-old in me wants to come out and have a pouty party.

But I want more than that. I can feel so much underneath the surface and it's hard for me to give those feelings voice. In my head, it sounds one way but once i put fingers to keyboard -word vomit. And i feel like a blubbering idiot.

The things that gives me hope are this site and my tenacousness. I don't want to let go of my desire to write well. I want to wrestle the thing until it's conquered.

I am At The End Of My Rope

This is what safe gets me.
I'm tired of asking questions. waiting. wanting.
The wanting is killing me the most. It's stopping me from being happy and it's making me sick.
sick.

I'm tired of my fear. It binds me and holds me down.
I want to walk out of here but I know I won't. I want to be eloquent and witty and endearing but i'm not.

I'm weird and needy and closed in and it's pissing me the fuck off.

I'm blocked. I know I am. I'm stopped up.
I can't say i'm constipated because it's like i haven't even shit...ever!
I'm so tired and so ready for somethingelse.

I'm so scared that I'll fail myself. I feel like I'm failing myself right now. I'm deeply unhappy and I'm agreeing to it by sitting here. I'm trying to craft my life around my unhappiness but my spirit won't have it. At least that much gives me hope.

God.
I feel like a 13-year-old with bills and bad credit. Wanting to hang with the cool kids.

There is a certain presence in my life that could possibly lead to me having a heart attack. or a break-down. Or...murdering someone*?

I won't name that presence because I like eating and sleeping indoors and such. But goddamn if that's not where the benefits end. I've been on this self-improvement kick for a while, but it's very hard to improve your outlook on anything when certain circumstances mean one is looking at someone's big, dumb head for eight hours a day. It's even harder when said big, dumb head is enjoying, well, more food and more indoor activity than you.

I am so fucking negative.

*Also? I'm not actually going to murder someone. Would not even consider it. In case that ever comes back to haunt me.

there is something about now, this time, that demands something of me.

quite frankly, it's getting on my damn nerves.

i feel like i want to write, want to create, then i sit down and it all feels like a homework assignment that's due tomorrow morning. It turns into something i have to do and not something i want to do.

i feel like right now, i am my biggest responsibility and i'm failing me big time.

I feel like it's never - don't ask me what 'it' is - going to come together for me. That I'm never going to make it come together for myself.

How do I get to being happy?

I would love to immerse myself in writing. I need something, someone, some catalyst to push me over the edge and in the right (write?) direction.

letter

Dear God,
I am sorry that I am not thankful. I know that you have spread out a banquet for me larger than I need and loaded my arms with more gifts than I could even comprehend.

Thank you.

Thank you for my hills and thank you for my valleys. Thank you for my brain and my heart and the happiness and the sadness.

Thank you for loving me even when I cannot comprehend how to love you back.

Thank you for teaching me lessens. Thank you for deciding that I am even worth teaching lessens. Thank you for dealing with my brattiness, stubborness and hard-headedness while you are teaching me.

I love you.

Your daughter,
me

Lots has been going on in my dreams recently. I'm not sure what, though. I forget about it as soon as I wake up and start thinking about how tired I am. I can, however, remember the grindy-grindy feeling of my brain thinking and thinking as I dream.

I get reminded of bits and pieces of my dreams when I'm awake. That's how I know they're so weighty. Maybe in my subconscious, I'm wading through all the things I'm dealing with in real life.

Just now I was reminded that last night I dreamed of something having to do with babies. There was an image of a cute little brown baby girl in a pink outfit. I also remember that in my dream, someone told me that they dreamed of their baby before they had her. Weird.

Also, I've been dealing with something that's been making me very sad recently. It's really hard and it really sucks. I feel like I'm about to wade through a very thick swamp. Yuck.

The end.

Incomplete

Even though I am making strides, there is so much pain I am still working through. I am an unfinished product. Parts are still raw to the touch.

Although I've heard this before and recognize that it applies to everyone, the truth of it still surprises me. I'm not done yet and I'm not supposed to be.

I think the people who are able to recognize their weakness are the ones who are able to live their lives with grace and simplicity. They don't expect anything but love and effort from themselves and mirror those feelings on to others.

Life for me on days like today is a struggle between what I should do and what I feel. Because there is so much that disapoints me right now it's easy for me to take those feelings, tie them around my ankles and let them drown me. I feel like they're all I know and all I have. When I look around, all I see is what I don't have and how much I've fallen short.

I hate being so touchy-feely all the time. I hate how sad and needy my writing is all the time. But I think that this is what is inside of me right now. To write anything else would be false.

I will not call him
I will not call him
I will not call him
I will not call him
I will not call him

Damn. Today is not a good day.

You
you get on my nerves
are a wonder
a mystery
what goes on behind your eyes

We
don't speak the same language
are without the luxury of a translator
two silly people
full of art and love

Us
can be beautiful, or very sick
can change the world
undoubtedly changed each other

Bad news.
the life that you've been planning for will not get here.
Ever.
Was lost in the mail
or stepped on
was smooshed behind a bookcase in some ugly beige room.

Bad news.
Your hair? The hair in the comercial? Ain't happening.
Skin, neither.
Let's not discuss your ass. It's better that way.
But your teeth aren't half as dingy as I thought they'd be.

Bad news.
Sometimes my creativity fails me
or was never there to begin with.
So, the end.

Either

Fuck that
Either love me or leave me alone.

Don't be afraid of words
They're a string of playthings
they are sometimes weapons, with edges sharp as knives
but they're fun, too.
They're silly and loving and hard as ice

There's nothing to be afraid of when you're dealing with words
they can be assembled and disassembled as easy as a-b-c

So I'm back.

The only reason for this is that I've been feeling the itch to write. And maybe if I just keep on writing, I'll stumble on to something important, amusing or interesting to say. Or maybe I will be responsible to adding to the big 'ol pile of bullshit that is the internet.

whatever.

I stopped writing when I was becoming more and more swept up in the crazy.

I could spell out all the reasons for the crazy. I could run down the symptoms of the crazy, I could talk about how the crazy felt.

But honestly? I'm a little sick of that. I'm a little sick of myself. I feel like I've spent years of my life waiting to live. Sitting on the sidelines or doing the least little bit so that I still look alive. But it hasn't gotten me anywhere. Well, that's not true. It's gotten me a job which pays the bills which is great - but it's not enough. I feel like I've moved the way a leaf or bit of paper moves when the wind blows it. Not on purpose, not with a purpose, not with a goal.

I'm sick of analyzing why I don't want to do something, why I'm not where I want to be. Goddamit, I just want to be there!

I want to step beyond craziness, fear, anxiety. It's hard and frustruating, enfuriating and, really - it sucks.

But I'm hoping that I'll come out the other end a better, more accomplished, more satisfied person. I think that's what this is about.

The End.

Alter Ego

I have an alter ego. She's a girl I'll call Whiney Little Bitch.
She looks like me, she dresses like me. Bitch even lives with me.

And that's the problem.

When I have a problem, Bitch whispers in my ear how hard it is to fix. When I want to do something, Bitch tells me how scary it is. Bitch says "I can't because..." "It's not fair because..." Bitch tells me that I'm not enough and I never will be.

I hate that bitch.

I've never been in a fight in my life, but the goal these days is to beat that Bitch's ass.

She's been calling the shots around here but that's all about to stop.

Fuck Elton John, this Bitch is back.

church

Three girls walked by, black against the bright perrywinkle sky.
Backs arched to better show off solid, new breasts.
Power. Those breasts gave them power here.

Their hair was done up intricately in braids and curls and bows.
They switched their hips just so.
They walked by, a pack of them.
Their insolent eyes and full red lips challenged me and made me feel flat.

Brain Storming

Item:
-I'd like to get a job in production...doing...something. My dream is to work in documentary film or perhaps a news program with more in-depth reporting. I also think it would be interesting to work in fashion journalism.

Solution:
-Call people who work at/own production companies. Ask for more information. Ask people at work for advice. Internships?
-Start researching graduate programs. What schools would I want to attend, what schools would let me in?
-Join a journalism society like women in media and film(?) or nabj.

Timeline:
-Get phone numbers and call them TODAY.
-Have resume/cover letter COMPLETED SUNDAY.
-get to grad school...eventually

Item:
-I feel like a giant slug. Also, I'm feeling the definite need to kick some ass.

Solution:
-Find a kickboxing class!

Timeline:
Call places today to get prices.

It's all about organization, people.

Retail Therapy

Shit.
It's getting (has been) pretty mopey round about here.
Time for shoes!

we fought last night.
i think.
he told me things he didn't like about me and i felt...
disapointed? scared?
angry.
resentful.
i tried to wrap my brain around the problem and talked...
a lot.

I knew I was being a girl. Being a girlfriend. Yuck.

Everytime we fight I think it's the end. He said it but I already knew it. The best/worst/ugliest/most beautiful thing about relationships is that you can't control how they're going to end. Or if they will end.

If I wasn't so crazy, I'd accept that.

purging

things that are stressing me out:
i don't particularly like my job
i don't know what i want to do
the boy situation is kind of a mess
well, not a mess, exactly...but not completely strong, either
i'm not being responsible with my money
my hair looks like shit
i'm tired of my clothes
i don't call my friends enough
i'm completely disorganized
i need to do laundry
i feel like i never have energy
i'm way too self-absorbed
i want to do something - but i'm not sure what
i don't feel sure in myself
i need to work out more
i need to read more
i want to start taking a yoga class
i want a new pair of shoes
i want to take a painting class

I am fearful that if I am truly myself, he will leave me.
To escape that fear, I try to leave him first.
love - or something - keeps calling me back.
i will confront my fear.
it still may not work out.
i will accept that.

Things I'd Like To Remember

the feeling of his hand in mine
a glimpse of how high I can go
fireworks from the car window
hazy afternoon sun
kisses
touches
fear
joy