my life shifting has created an earthquake.

I hear and feel it rumbling against my feet as I stand here on the precipice of the rest of my life. Or at least the next few years. My entire North Carolina life has suddenly shattered and I will be forced to recreate my existence. After ten years of the same, a month and half shy of 32, I have to change. The knowledge of this, makes me feel like I might either fall through the ground with the weight of my existence and the life I have created or I may just float away into the clouds after the feeling of being firmly rooted to the ground for so long. Both are disconcerting. There is also another little part of me that just wants to lie down and cry and sleep but that is not an option. My only option is to move forward, work harder and rebuild my life while the wreckage still smokes and the pieces are still salvageable. My children need me to. I need me to. I have sat here for 24 hours, teetering on the brink of despair every couple of hours, every twenty minutes and I have sat here for the past 24 hours, feeling the surges of strength that are truly in my nature. I love a challenge. I secretly love change and have sought it out in every other aspect of my life...forever. So why not view all of this that way? I know it is right but all of this still feels so wrong because although my nature embraces change, my human condition tries to fight it.
I am really just writing this because I just want all of you that love me and worry about me to know that I will do my best to be alright and I know that your love and friendship will be a huge help for me to do just that.
So far everybody has shown me that. It is an amazing help to know that even though the job that I just got fired from has left me feeling betrayed, I will always be grateful for the people that it has brought into my life and that are now my family.

death and life of a bird. my heart in my head.

I rode my bike fast, my heart in my head, the sun on my face and the wind at my back. I saw a bird fall from the sky dead as she twirled down to the right of me, thumping down into the grass. I stopped my bike and looked up, seeing nothing but clouds and hot blue sky. I crouched down and looked at the bird seeing how her feet were stretched back as though to cut through summer air, her wings cockeyed at different angles as though she had just paused, mid-flight to give herself over to death. Her body was still plump and whole...a mystery to me. How did this happen? Where did she come from? Did her body just give up? Her life already lived? I just crouched there for a while, watching her wings fluttering in the breeze as her body stiffened. So many thoughts ran through my head. Slippery ones that my mind could not hold onto for my heart was too big as it occupied all the space intended for logic. Slowly I stood, my legs creaking as I remembered that I too was moving closer to death. I felt dizzy for a moment as my eyes readjusted to the open space surrounding me. the hot asphalt shimmering in the sun, the cool green grass in a long strip beside me, my bike turned over onto the curb, its metal frame glinting in the bright light. I walked over to it uncertainly, feeling the weight of an unnamed emotion pushing my body down, slowing me up. I picked up my foreign seeming bike and felt its familiar weight in my hands as I got on, my feet finding the pedals out of memory, my body knowing the way as I rode away with my heart still firmly in my head. As I began to pick up speed, I looked down at the road below and saw this: a cracked open blue eggshell its broken imperfection fragile in the man-made street, formerly the home of a baby bird, its feathers probably now ruffling in the breeze of its newly found flight as my logical human mind reasserted itself and my heart found its way back to my chest. I now pumped the pedals faster, the sun on my face and the wind at my back, the looming truth of death now visible on the horizon.

revelation: I like children.

I always said I didn't like children other than my own. Maybe I lied.
I volunteered to help out(with grades K-2) at my daughters' school today for their annual "fun field day." for those of you with no imagination or prior experience, this is where they have water balloon tosses, three legged races etc...
I woke up this morning and groaned inwardly when I thought of what I was to face today. Why oh why did I think this was a good idea? Maybe guilt over my lack of school participation got the best of me or maybe I secretly knew that it would be fun.
Anyhow, I got there, dressed in all black my tattoos on full display and made my way to the line of parents waiting to their visitors pass. I felt a bit of nervousness at having to be around all of those moms, most of them either older than me or obviously more normal and married than me. Fuck it, I thought. I am here for my kid and they can stare all they want...and they did. I got to the front of the line and the teacher just looked at me blankly with the obvious question in her eyes. "Who are you here for?" she asked and I told her my name and she said, "oh, You're Briana."
yeah and?
so after the awkward introduction and reassurances from my end that yes, I did belong here, I was sent to go work at the three legged race post. I looked over and saw another mom already there wearing a white blouse tucked into khaki shorts, her giant diamonds glinting in the sun as she put her hand up to shield her eyes as she got a better look and realized I was making my way toward her.
I got there, introduced myself and we chatted awkwardly. Eventually I got her to settle down and accept that I am quite normal really(or can at least pretend to be) and then...the kids came filing out. There were hundreds of them it seemed to my frightened eyes but in reality probably only about 75-90. They were all pretty little and really excited. You could see it vibrating in their little frames as they hopped from foot to foot, the boys shoving excitedly at their buddies, and the girls holding hands, their eyes alight with anticipation. There was a short speech from the PE teacher and then they blew a whistle and the kids came barreling across the field scattering into all different directions as they tried to decide which game they wanted to play first. At this point, they were content to choose whatever thing they came across first and so the three legged race got some action. I was armed with special little velcro straps to bind the children together and at first I was nervous. How in the hell can a self absorbed weirdo like me do this well at all? well the answer was apparently, pretty damned well. After strapping the kids together and blowing the whistle, the began frantically hopping, tripping and dragging(in one little boys case as he fell and got dragged to the finish line by his buddy) their way to the yellow cone and back. I watched this time and again, laughing so hard my face hurt, while I urged them on, clapping, whistling and cheering. I enjoyed watching the methods of the boys vs. the methods of the girls. The boys would just barrel their way through the course, hopping and dragging one another as fast and furiously as possible while the girls would hop gingerly along until they got to the other side and then they more often than not would confer at that point and come to the conclusion that holding hands and timing their steps would be more effective. more often than not, these two different methods would result in the boys getting to the finish line first while the girls hardly fell down and they definitely had a better understanding of M.O. I know for a fact that I had to escort 3 separate boys to the first aid station and only one girl. I must say, I was really enjoying myself. my partner parent on the other hand seemed slightly bored and annoyed by mine and the children's hyperactivity. Maybe I am just immature?
At this point one of the teachers came up to us and asked if one of us would like to take over for one of the parents that had to leave early. I just stood there not wanting to move but when my partner parent asked what activity we would have to man, the teacher said sheepishly, "hockey" We both looked over and saw a writhing mass of boys hitting eachother with sticks and flinging the ball all over the blacktop. I asked what we would have to do and the teacher, with a question in her voice said, "make sure they don't kill one another and that each one that wants to play gets a turn?" Sounds easy right? I looked at the lady I was working with and she quickly said, "I'll stay here if you want to go." I knew I was doomed after seeing how she had behaved most of the morning so I said o.k. and made my way over to the basketball court. the lady manning this station looked at me in relief and quickly scooted off, practically running to her car in her haste to get the hell away from the chaos. After dodging a few balls and wayward sticks thrown in rage, I realized I was going to have to organize some shit. there were only boys playing and I knew I could handle it. Boys do not get their feelings hurt all that easily. Their main objective was just to play and get points(in what way I do not know seeing as how nobody seemed to understand the whole net thing) and to not have anybody else get a longer turn than the other or to receive a better stick than them. The only problem with this was that their way of scoring points was not entirely working seeing as though nobody wanted to be the goalie and nobody understood who was who. they were just randomly dogpiling as they all frantically tried to gain control of the ball. I had to keep in mind that they were all under 8years old so they only had a rudimentary understanding of the whole thing. I blew my whistle and all of the boys stopped, looking at me with confusion in their eyes as I explained not only who was who but also, which net they had to aim for depending on what team they were on. I had to come up with a way to rotate the boys so that nobody got the boring job of being goalie for too long(boring because half the time, the ball never made it anywhere but beyond the court and into the wooded area). I cannot express how much I enjoyed this. All these sweaty little boys, taking this silly game dead serious until they just lost interest and dropped their stick in the middle of the court and ran off to some other fun thing. I of course was the one that had to brave my way to the middle of the madness to claim the extra stick so that one of the many boys hopping from foot to foot on the sidelines could have a turn. You have no idea how often i heard" I've been here forever and he cut!" or "he's been playing forever and it should be my turn!" and so on and so forth.
The funny thing is, I still enjoyed myself and found myself really good at cheering them on and keeping them focused as well as organizing this random game of hockey that had an ever changing team depending on the moment. It seemed that when the game really got going and points were actually being scored more kids would gravitate toward the game, begging to get in but the moment things fell to chaos, nobody was really interested.
So the point I am making is this, maybe I like kids after all. Or maybe I just like kids in large groups?
either way, I may definitely consider volunteering again next year.
Fuck, who knew?

the anti-me

Although I've suspected that my brain may be atrophying due to the nature of my job and the company I am surrounded by, surprised me last night in my sleep.
I of course began my dream at work because I had just left there in my waking life. It was the same and lame as always but for one small/huge detail. There was now a Jagerator(awesome machine that dispenses jagermeister) in the far corner of the meat dept near the door where the customers cannot see. We were all there late because we had to clean up the dept to make way for our new addition and in doing so, we also had to be subjected to a long lecture from the boss about how the Jagerator was something that we did not have free reign over. We would have to ask his permission each time we wanted a sip from it. I have no idea what other purpose this thing was supposed to serve other than to torture us because the little cups that we were to have our "sips" from were the size of a tablespoon. As I stood there pondering this and all the many ways around it, my boss finished his monologue and stepped out the door with a wave of his hand which I guess was to imply that he was leaving. The moment the door shut behind him, Cowboy(the oldest man I work with) said,"BAH, FUCK IT" and got out his coffee mug and started pouring. we all sheepishly followed suit and proceeded to get twisted. eventually I decided that I wanted to leave but could not drive so Maggie and her boyfriend Phill offered me a ride because Maggie was not drunk. She happened to have a pickup truck in which I got to ride in the back, feeling the breeze on my face and in my hair. I felt drunk and happy even though my house seemed as though it was really far away in a very hilly neighborhood that did not really look familiar but my dream mind assured me that the drunkenness was the thing skewing my knowledge of reality. The neighborhood was full of mansions and I was happy to think that I was rich but then Maggie finally pulled into the one driveway that accompanied the smallest house on the block. the house was a brown seventies style one story track home with an odd, carport/porch with a buzzing, dingy, yellow light that I could see the bugs swarming around lazily. I jumped out of the back of the truck and swerved toward the door, Maggie and Phill following me. I went through the way of the carport and found myself in an old brown and yellow kitchen where I opened the beige fridge only to find not much of anything but a can of budweiser and some limp carrots. I slammed the door and walked out into the living room where there was a man that I did not recognize stretched out on a lazy boy snoring as the TV blared an infomercial about Ginsu knives. I walked down the hall toward the room at the end that had a light on and hardcore music growling from behind the cracked door. I pushed open the door as Phill and Maggie stopped in the hallway about 3 ft back, lingering uncomfortably as if they knew what I would find.
within the room there was a four poster bed with a wizened little black woman lounging in it, her old fashioned nightgown hitched up to her waist, her offwhite baggy, holey underwear bunched up, showing the harsh shape of her pelvis underneath as she held a black little baby around six months old that was fat as hell across her stomach and cradled it with her left arm. Beside her was a little dirty redneck looking white kid huddled under a a brown, scratchy looking blanket with one hand stretching out and over, holding onto the fat babies ankle. The music was still deafening yet I could hear them discussing the effect that the screaming may have on the baby. I turned away in embarrassment ushering my awkwardly hovering friends into what seemed to be my room.
Nothing in the room was really familiar. It was all ALMOST familiar but just fell short of anything I really recognized. There was a single bed against the far wall, a little to the right and covered with a dingy white afghan that was littered with stuffed animals. next to the bed was the kind of nightstand I had when I was a little girl but slightly different. It was classic seventies, with the white wood and gold edging and each drawer was decorated with a fancy little handle that had carved little angel faces in it. on top of the nightstand was a boombox that was little and pink with unicorn and butterfly stickers on it. I knew something was not right so I told Maggie and Phill to sit down while I found some clothes to change into so we could leave. the room was awkward and small with a dirty dark pink and white shag rug that they sunk down to while sitting as close as possible as though they were apprehensive about something. maybe they were picking it up from me? or maybe it was just something strange in the air of the house. I made my way to the closet to the left of the door and could still hear the screaming metal from down the hall and now what seemed to be a small child screeching. I began to search through the closet that suddenly looked just like my closet from the room I grew up in but none of the clothes made any sense. they were all floral prints in pinks, blues, yellows and mauves yet...they were the exact cut of each article of clothing I actually own in real life. even the shoes were mostly the same but all the wrong colors and sizes. at this point I spotted a beige art portfolio on the top shelf of the closet and thought that I should look into it and make sure that my art was still intact. I opened it and lots of brightly colored papers filled with butterflies and hearts and big bright shapes of nothing in particular floated to the ground. amidst them was a passport. I opened it and some photographs fell out and I picked them up and upon looking at them realized that they must be of my oldest daughter but she was an adult so I was even more confused at this point. It was then that i decided to look at the passport. The passport belonged to Barbara Martinez. She looked just like my daughter and her birthday was August 14 1987. Suddenly it all made sense. I walked into the wrong house. This was Barbaras room. not Briana. an honest mistake I guess. My face grew red as I turned to my friends and told them what had happened. you know what they said? "Oh yeah, we were wondering if that was what had happened!" as though this were a normal occurrence?
the subconscious is a strange thing.

Gimme a break!

Today I spent my time going from gallery to gallery. The day was muggy and I was sweaty and desperate. I feel as though I have made some headway but not enough. I see now that this is going to take more work than I anticipated. Why oh why did I think I needed a break? Nothing worse than walking into a nice clean gallery, covered in paint, sweat and tattoos knowing that nobody knows you or believes you when you say that you can bring it. sooo, I will just have to prove that I can. BUT, for those of you that know my work and know something that i may not when it comes to galleries that may be looking for some cartoony, brightly colored paintings filled with naked women and blood well then hey, you know where I be. There, I have just proved to myself that I can be shameless.
HA.

the surgery fiasco

I knew it wouldn't be easy. I had been dreading this day for weeks. It did not help that the moment my little one awoke, she began to cry in fear. It was the day that she would get her tonsils and adenoids removed. I know this sounds basic but as a mother, it is major. anytime the regular flow of your childs life is tampered with, it is major. She was shaking so badly that I had to carry her in. The check in was quick (and monetarily painful) and then they called her back. they checked her vitals, got her changed into her hospital gown and explained to her how the gas mask that was going to make her sleep would work. she was still shaky and kept looking to me to gauge my reaction to all of this and I had to be a big liar and just nod and smile and tell her it would be fine, no big deal. they let me have one more kiss and then ushered me out to the waiting room
and this is where I sat with my step dad and friend, not for very long when suddenly her doctor was in the waiting room saying that everything was o.k. and done and I could see her soon. about thirty minutes later, My dad and I were led back to the recovery room and that was when I saw her. my poor little girl. her face looked bruised and swollen, her eyes were bloodshot and she could barely focus on my shape and to make my heart feel like it was being squeezed in a vise grip, she tried to force her drugged features into a smile while attempting to tell me that she was o.k. as her heart monitor began to speed up I shushed her, sitting as close to her as her little hospital bed would allow, stroking her face, telling her to close her eyes while I watched the heart monitor slow down as I touched her face talking in a low, soothing mom voice about nothing important. about what we would do when we got home and what kind of popsicles she would like. she fell back to sleep and the nurse eventually came back in to give me the frightening instructions about her recovery and the potential dangers. I nodded bravely as though this were something I dealt with on a daily basis, potential bleeding, fevers and puking. eventually another nurse came in to wake violet up and take out her I.V. She was surprisingly brave, looking to me for acknowledgment over this. I nodded in all seriousness while telling her that "my little lady is as tough as nails" as the nurse slid the tube out of her hand and she fell back in relief, the codeine that the nurses had given her prior to my arrival in the recovery room beginning to affect her. she looked at her band-aid smiling and admiring the fuzziness of elmo's legs out loud as I turn to smile at my dad. apparently she was a bit wasted. the nurse came back asking her if she wanted to ride in a wheel chair and she drunkenly insisted that she wanted her Grandpa to carry her. No problem. I pulled the car around and my dad put her in it and I got out and began strapping her in and bundling towels around her in case she got sick from the medicine. she just looked around dazedly and then began to admire her band-aid again.
Once home, I realized that my dad had bought her some french fries and a milkshake(something the nurse said she could have when she was READY) and the little sweetie tried to make her way through a couple of bites of the milkshake doggedly, to make her grandpa happy.
So we made it through the day fairly peacefully, her on the couch, me at her feet reading a book. Hovering, constantly in her peripheral afraid to move afraid to leave her alone. Not wanting for her, even if for a moment to feel as though I was not right there. Ready if she needed me.
she ate several bowls of ice cream only whimpering when the pain medicine began to wear off and we had to wait 45 minutes for the 4th hour to strike. the magic moment where she could feel better again. even if for only a couple of hours.
I kept her up until 10pm so that she could take one more dose of her medicine. she was exhausted after refusing to sleep at all during the day. once she had the medicine, she drifted off to sleep as I continued to read my book, monitoring her sleep. I eventually closed my book after I heard her breathing become even and right before I shut off the light she snapped up to a sitting position, clawing at the walls attempting to pull at the molding on the wall that resembles a door while saying, "why? why?" and then she stood up to half kneeling, half standing position, poking at the painting above her saying, "why won't this work?" I found this a bit amusing and a bit frightening as I calmed her back down, knowing she was not awake as her eyes were glossed over and red, not quite focusing in on me as I spoke to her. once her breathing became even I again I turned out the light again, falling into a light sleep only to be awoken by her ragged breathing, her snoring louder than a grown man and I began to get a little worried. in between the loud, choking snoring sounds I would her breathing pause...for way too long. I would nudge her and she would begin to breathe again. I turned to her so that I could watch her in the dim light. Her mouth was swollen, her tongue pushing up against the roof of her mouth, her breathing forced through her swollen little nose. Fuck, I knew I would not be able to sleep well that night. I drifted off again only to awake again thirty minutes later to the sound of her choking and whimpering and I gave her some water and made her breathe, trying to clear her throat gently and she fell back to the pillows falling back into a fitful sleep. I sighed and turned over to my back, listening to her breathing, not breathing myself so as to hear her better. silently wishing that I was not alone on this particular night. though I fought sleep, I still found myself dreaming. I found myself alone in a house, searching for her, climbing upstairs, calling her name as I could hear her choking to breathe somewhere above me. I found her hunched over a toilet at the top of the stairs, a toilet suspended in air above the backyard. I could see the back of her head as she puked dark red blood as well as the yard below, puddles and ponds everywhere. I reached forward to hold her hair back and missed...it was then that I fell forward past her and down into the yard my foot somehow catching on a wire on the way down. the wire was connected to a giant speaker and when I hit the ground I saw it hit next to me, falling into a puddle of water, sparking with the sound of electricity that was still connected to a power source and I saw the blue light zap through the water toward me as I leaped up running away trying to avoid the puddles as I attempted to make my way back into the house. not seeing any way in without getting electrocuted I began to hear her cry again. it was a plaintive sound, bringing me back to my reality, I opened my eyes to see her sitting upright in the bed again and this time her face was contorted in pain. I looked at the clock and saw that it was finally time again to give her her medicine. I began to get it ready and she was just getting more and more panicky and I knew what was coming if this continued. "Take a deep breath and calm down or you will be sick" I could hear it in her voice, I could hear it coming. She just nodded her head as her hands flew to her mouth, the dark red sick pushing out from between her fingers. I grabbed her up, racing her to the bathroom, my sleep tired legs barely working as she wretched onto my hands, my arm, the blanket that had fallen to the floor in my haste. I got her to the bathroom as the flung her self over the toilet bowl, choking and wretching as I scrambled to keep her hair out of it, the mantra in my head screaming, 'Fuck, fuck, oh fuck please stop' While my actual voice told her firmly that she needed to breathe as I watched the dark vomit turn bright red with blood knowing that the force of her heaving was forcing the scabs to burst. I held her hair with one hand, wiping her mouth with another while still coaxing her to stand up and breathe. Finally, the moment passed and she was sobbing and falling to the floor as I scooped her up and then attempted to wet a washcloth to wipe her face and nose. I went to the cupboard and pulled out new bedding that I set on the floor only to see her curl up on it still sobbing as I ripped the dirty bedding off of the bed. I moved her and then got everything back to normal, tucking her in and climbing in next to her knowing that sleep would not come to me again. I lay there the rest of the night, reading, listening to her breathing and prodding her when her inhalations paused for too long and I write this now from the land of the walking dead...
Though I am thankful for auto pilot, I am sometimes all too aware of how difficult doing this by myself is...but we will make it through. we always do. I make sure of it.

what is it and why do we contemplate it?

falling asleep I am thinking of the many faces of love, awakening my mind is stuck in a rickety airplane set up like a movie theatre with windows on either side that cannot get more than 20 feet off of the ground. we bump up and down, the trees flying past, my heart full of fear, my hand gripping that of the bespectacled girl next to me I think desperately about getting off of this awful contraption. I hope like hell it never makes it into the air. It begins to ascend, the sound of branches cracking against the side of the plane, the street wavering below. I chance a look out the window and the plane dips toward the tree lined street below and I jerk myself awake in fear, startling him in his sleep and he jumps a little then pulls me in closer.
Back to my original thoughts. There was once a time when I thought that love was something to be attained, something that could be possessed. I learned later in life that love is a verb. love is something that is felt and acted upon in a moment of passion. whether that passion is of the lustful or familial variety, it is inspired by passion just the same.
I have as of recently felt this bubbling up of emotion, of passion, of loving feeling. Now I understand that this feeling can be fleeting and intermittent but there is something so profound about it when it alights on your heart and mind. Or maybe it is profound in some cases because it does not come randomly or of it's own free will(does love have a will?) it is generated. it is a spark that is created and then coaxed so that it may burst into flame in the case of lust and when the flame gets hot and burns bright, everything can fall away and the feeling of buoyancy the heat causes in your body and mind can be exquisite... until the flame burns out...but we won't think about that. Then in the case of family love, it is like an old ember that just burns and burns, sometimes flaring up and surprising you with its intensity other times just smoldering and waiting, the warmth something to be counted upon. Like a commodity. Is there a way to combine the two? or are they just two separate things? can the spark flare up, burn bright and then smolder while waiting for a breeze of desire or inspiration so that it may be regenerated, bursting back into flame?
These are the things I lay there thinking about. To no end of course because I still know that love is a verb and not a material thing. It is acted out when it is felt and there is not usually any rhyme nor reason. at least not in my experience. although maybe that is because I only know the smoldering ember that I keep hidden from the outside world and have only experienced the spark and quick burning flame once or twice.
who knows? who cares? It is just something to be contemplated as I lay there naked, comfortably intertwined with the body of another. a body that has created a spark within me that bursts into flame from time to time...much to my delight as it leaves me feeling warm and content. For now.

Feelings are gay.

I lie there, the warmth of the afternoon sun filtering in through a gap in the curtains. I listen to the in and out rhythm of his breathing as he falls into sleep, his arm wrapped around my shoulders, twitching as his body fights the vertigo that the subconscious meeting the conscious can create. I concentrate on the feeling of his chest against my shoulders, stomach against my back...from the top of my neck to the bottoms of my heels we are connected by an unbroken line of warmth that feels as though it in itself is alive. there is something very soothing about this. this is something I have not felt in a long while. I feel as though I could lie there forever, never feeling restless to get away, never trying to untangle myself from an awkward embrace because I embrace the awkward as our laughter smooths it away...there is no bad feeling here.

I blindly toss my eggs into one basket haphazardly, not caring if they break or get lost. not caring if the basket is even there to catch them because if it means that I get to hold onto this feeling of comfort and affection if only for a moment, then that moment will be precious as long as I feel it. it has been a long time since the warmth of another penetrated the cool exterior of this self. making it glow from the inside out.

so fuck it, I toss my eggs and my caution to the wind because life is short and I move forward with or without these experiences. all I want to know is feeling, the feeling of warm breath on the back of my neck, of laughter late at night, of a painting started, a painting finished, of being loved by a daughter a brother a friend, of all the things that make me want to live because I am tied together, moment by moment by a string of feelings and emotions that have been woven to create this self.

the thought of the future is a frightening thing, but the thought of feeling happy is not.

her and me. the pain of separation.

I have been waiting for weeks for a dream that is worth remembering. I remember a little bit of a dream last week involving my best friend and a green hat but not enough to write about.
Last night I had a dream that hurt me emotionally and it was about this same friend. This friend is like a sister to me, she is my family.

I dreamed we were in a smoky bar, the music was loud and we had to shout to be heard. She and I were with some other people whom I do not know in real life. We were both drinking heavily and I was acting like a bit of an asshole. I upset her by talking about something private in mixed company and she decided to leave. I begged her not to, telling her not to drive drunk while I grabbed for her elbow. She yanked her arm out of my grasp and attempted to stomp out the door, weaving slightly. I sighed, giving up, figuring that I would call her and apologize later. I turned and began talking to our friends again and that was when one of them pointed out to me that she really should not have been driving and that I should go after her. I panicked, running out of the hot smoky bar and out into the cool damp night, glancing over to where her car should have been. It was then that I saw her silver taurus down the road in the distance...again, weaving slightly. I ran after the ghost of her taillights, frantically believing that I would catch her, that she might see me, sense me in the rearview mirror and turn around, understanding my concern, forgiving me my stupidity. I ran until I saw the red light disappear over the horizon and then I collapsed onto a nearby bus bench, wondering what to do next. I fell asleep(passed out drunk) and then woke up to the sound of my phone ringing. I opened my eyes and found that I was in my bed. Confused I reached for the phone and opened it to the sound of her mothers voice calmly telling me that my friend had died. She said that nobody knew how, that she had just disappeared and was presumed dead. I began to wail, knowing that it was my fault, that I had done wrong by not being able to catch her before she drove. I felt out of control and only vaguely heard her mother telling me to calm down. I heard her say that I should come over to get some of her daughters things because she could not possibly be expected to deal with them. I agreed and decided to ride my bike over to her house in the city but as I neared her residence, I began to feel a fluttery panic in my chest as though I was standing on the edge of a cliff, my head felt light and I just wanted to lay down and go to sleep. I looked up and saw that I was already at her moms house and that there was no turning back because she was in the front yard, her back to me while cutting her flowers. she turned to me and waved, gesturing me inside. My body immediately felt heavy and I just wanted to be alone with my impending grief but I knew that it was not possible because I had a responsibility to her mother. a responsibility to take care of the things that my friend had left behind. I walked into the house and there in the front hall lay a pile of my sisters things. Her paintings, her clothing, a black, fluffy jacket that she wears every winter, a pair of pants I used to laugh at in high school and above all, a stack of unfinished sketches for paintings. My mind focused on the sketches, feeling so many things at once. Feeling the complete weight of my loss. I would never be able to talk to her about what thoughts inspired these sketches, I would never be able to see what her lovely dark mind would come up with next. I would never be able to call her, never be able to laugh with her, paint with her, hug her, kiss her, know her. The emptiness was overwhelming and the feeling of vertigo became unbearable. I sank to the floor, my head in my hands, images of her flashing through my mind while I felt as though I might throw up. I could hear her moms voice somewhere above me, asking me if maybe I could do "something" with these unfinished paintings. maybe paint on them, make them whole. the idea of trying to face the completion of these paintings alone, without her was so frightening that I began to cry. I felt my face getting hot and flushed and the tears were wetting my cheeks while somehow managing to ground me back into the reality of my pain. I suddenly felt as though I was in a movie, the sound of "return to oz" by the scissor sisters swelling in the backround, my sadness a complete physical and material thing tugging me to open my eyes and realize that I was in my bed, that I was awake and that I had just experienced an unbelievably real nightmare that had left my cheeks wet with tears, my throat tight with emotion.
needless to say, the beginning of my day was dark and confusing.
Not the best thing to write about but I needed to. I needed to feel that sadness again so that I could evaluate just how much I love her.
My best friend.
I am so thankful that I have somebody like her.

dirty girl

I had a dream the other night that is still haunting me with its dark humor and strange depth.
Although first off we must get the facts out there. I am not a full fledged lesbian. In fact, I do not believe that I am any sort of lesbian at all. I like kissing them from time to time and that is about it. well, read on and you will see.
I was on a bed in a pale yellow room with nothing interesting about it save the fact that it was small. I was kissing the most beautiful middle eastern woman ever and her girlfriend was sitting in the chair at the end of the bed, watching. As I kissed the girl I became aware of the way she smelled and I started to panic. I could feel her pushing her body up against mine, trying to force my attention to her vagina..."Oh God," I thought. the last thing I want to do is go down on this girl...but isn't that what she wanted me to do? isnt that what lesbian girls do? was her girlfriend noticing my hesitancy? Am I being rude? As I pondered my situation, The girl pulled away from my embrace and pushed me back on the bed and then stomped out of the room. I sat there stunned for a moment and then looked over at the girlfriend and suddenly noticed her appearance. she had a round face and high forehead, complete with rosy cheeks and blond straight hair, pulled back into a junior high ponytail. she was wearing an old lady blouse that as I watched, she began to remove. underneath she had on a black lacy bra and her tits were just spilling out over the top, crowning the chubby body that bordered on voluptuous. she moved toward me and we began to kiss and this time, I was enjoying it, I was getting excited. especially when she told me her little secret: she could not get off on oral sex alone and felt as though she was living a lie. she pulled out a double ended dildo and told me that she wanted to have sex. She handed the toy to me and I just sat there holding it awkwardly. I did not know what to do. I did not feel comfortable using it and then suddenly realized that I was no longer turned on. I tried to pretend that it was and set it on her stomach and began rubbing it back and forth over her bellybutton. she shuddered in disgust and pulled away from me while telling me calmly that this was why she hated women. they were too unsure of themselves and not aggressive enough. I was indifferent to this information and proceeded to ask her what she was going to do about the girlfriend she had in the other room. she sighed and told me that she did not know what to do because she had a male lover that she saw from time to time. a lover whose presence she was finding it increasingly more difficult to hide from her girlfriend seeing as how he was made of moths and everytime he came to visit her, he left moth residue all over the walls. She then began to tell me that fucking him was great because she could feel the moths moving inside her. as she spoke I began to look around at the walls and could see the moth carcasses stuck to the walls dead and in the final throes of dying, their bodies gyrating, their wings fluttering as their smooshed guts kept them glued to the pale yellow paint. I suddenly realized that I had to get out of there. I got up and fled from the room only to find the girl I had offended originally lying on a yellow beanbag, tears streaming from her eyes. It was then that i realized how beautiful she was. I looked at her blue green eyes framed with thick, straight dark lashes, her short dark hair shining in the light that was streaming in from the window lighting up her olive skin, bringing attention to her dark, perfectly shaped eyebrows and rosy cheeks glowing beneath the smooth light brown of her skin. I had the overwhelming urge to console her and so I crouched down, leaning into her face, smelling her scent and told her how beautiful she was. how radiant she seemed when she had tears in her eyes. she lashed out in anger and hurt and told me to leave her alone and though I wanted to stay and make her feel better, I stood, feeling my knees creak in protest and made my way out through the kitchen door and into the cold sunlight, the only thing on my mind the desire to be what I am not. a lesbian. I wanted to hold her and give her the love she needed. I wanted to hold her beauty and revel in it yet I could not because I knew that despite the moment I was in and the empathy I felt, I still craved the crass, rough sexuality of the man. always have always will...against my better judgment. against all odds and against all the past pain inflicted on my person I still crave the company and sexual attention of the man.

The funny thing about this dream is that i believe that i may not have only been myself, I may also have been the beautiful girl as well. not to say that i am beautiful but to say that I know her pain. I know what it is like to be rejected and confused.
maybe I was the curvy blond as well, dirty and confused, craving the seemingly "disgusting" touch of a man.
who knows. all I know is that the damned dream has haunted me.

the devil beats his wife.
Current mood: amused

I drove home today as the devil beat his wife. The clouds a dark curtain to the left of my vision, the bright sunny rain pouring down on the windshield of my car. I look into my rearview mirror to see the wind whipping the trees and the sun and bright clouds pushing the dark off of the horizon. In the middle of all this is a rainbow and I cannot help but smile at the idiosyncrasy of the term, "The devil's beating his wife"...because it is usually then that the sun comes out through the rain and lights up the rain water like a prism...creating what we all love most: the rainbow. which I guess could also be known as the accidental child of the devil and his wife? a little beautiful, "whoops!" haha. Maybe that is why he is beating his wife.
How ridiculous.

the bond of family
Current mood: nostalgic

I race through the downpouring of rain to pick up my kids from school today. I am in a hurry because the one time I was late, my five year old was crying and worried. I make it just in time and as I pull up I see my little one waving at me wildly, her hair escaping from her hairtie and plastered to her forehead, her sweater sagging off her shoulders from the weight of her back pack. standing next to her is her big sister, staring at me with an expression of disdain that only a pre-teen can execute with such ease. they are like night and day, the younger clad in pink stripes and black mary janes, hair slicked back in a sagging pony tail with little strings of hair escaping around her face, the elder in baggy jeans and a powell peralta long sleeved t-shirt complete with baggy black zipper hoody, her hair hanging in her face, her vans untied with trailing, dirty white laces.
at home they fight and argue, pitting themselves against one another as though their livelihood depended on it and yet whenever I see them outside with other kids, at school or in the front yard of our home, they always seem to be huddled close, the eldest standing tall and awkward, the younger pressing against her while standing on one foot, her hands on her hips, her other foot thrust forward, her face a study in tough, while her big sister talks it up, leading the way with her words while her little sister backs her up with her body language. out there it is them against the world, at home it is always the older telling the younger how annoying she is, the younger telling the older to get away from her. out in the real world, the roles change and they back eachother up or seek eachother out. as I pull up today, they both spot my car and big sister registers my presence before trudging sullenly toward my car while little sister bounces and skips half a step behind, her little hand thrust out to grab onto her "arch nemesis/ best friends" backpack, to find safety and confidence through family.
something about this makes my heart feel tight...maybe because it reminds me of me and my big brother. He is the first one I ever looked up to, my first hero, my first enemy, my first friend. I recognize this relationship dynamic and I approve. It makes me more happy than they will ever know.
life may be hard when you have two mouths to feed but life would be lonely and boring without them.

Threes company + me
Current mood: amused
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural

I dreamed that I was on the set of Threes Company. I was actually part of the show but of course, since I was, things took a turn for the worse. They were asked to leave their apartment and jack called me to come over and deal with mr. ferley. I went over and the house was empty no furniture, no nothing. there was a couple there looking around and talking about renting the place. I ran them off by telling them that somebody had died there. as they walked out the door, the phone rang(everything was gone except for the phone I guess) and I answered. it was Mr. Ferley calling to see if everyone had left yet. He thought I was janet but I told him I was cindy so that I could play stupid. he commented on my deep voice and I told him I had a cold. that was when I heard a rustling in Jacks room. I opened the door and there was ALL the furniture from the house and jack, janet and cindy...hiding behind the upturned couch. I gently closed the door behind me and made sure to take a good look around before I asked them what they were doing. I had never seen the rest of the house before. I had only seen certain angles of it and I was dying to see the rest. the weird thing was that my mind made sure that all of the furniture was there. the couch, the phone stand, the painting on the wall. so enough about that for now, apparently jack and janet had decided that they were not moving out at all and that they would just hide all of the furniture in the room figuring mr. ferley would be too lazy to ever look. they were counting on me to distract him and keep the other people from moving in...which I did. at that point, there was a knock at the front door and I ran out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind me. I sprinted up the living room step to the door and opened it on a real life mr. ferley dressed in a blue jumpsuit. he asked me if I was the new tenant and i said yes. I began to nervously walk around showing him how much I loved the place. I walked toward the back wall and opened the blinds that never opened during the show and found that they were broken. I told him i wanted them fixed and he left. I looked out the window and was surprised by what I saw. there was a whole sunken stone back deck, complete with firepit. I wondered why this was never in the show. I remember larry having an outside but not these guys. at this point I decided to go back in and find the gang. I heard them talking and the shower running. I always wanted to know what the bathroom looked like so I went in. the girls were in there trying to coax jack inside(funny, I remember him never being allowed). I helped them, telling him that now was his chance. He ran in there and they told us that they were going to make out. janet was on top of cindy on a bench like the ones in the gym or sauna room. it was steamy and cindy was naked, janet was not. they started to kiss as jack and I stood there openmouthed. that was when it got weird. janet pulled back and just started slapping the shit out of cindy. over and over as her cheek got redder and redder and her fogged glasses flew off. I was mesmerized but jack walked out, breaking the spell and waking me up.
God, I am so fucked up.

hahaha the things that are not funny are so funny.
Current mood: amused
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural

as I drove home on my break from work last night I saw the most beautiful sunset. flaming orange and hot pink light reflecting off of storm clouds as the sun made its descent. I saw pink light blazing on the steeple of the church as I passed. I looked away because it was just so overwhelming, so bright...and that is when I saw it. The most magnificent rainbow ever. it had every color that a rainbow should have and I could see the entire arc of it, where it began and where it ended and it looked to me as though it may end over my house...and that is when I knew that it was a sign...from God. a sign from God that I should be gay. because well, I mean it is so obvious right?
such beauty has to mean something right?

mice make me want to run screaming.
Current mood: exhausted
Category: Life

I think there is a mouse in my house and I really should be sleeping because I am so exhausted my mind is barely in working order.
But I am scared of mice and I am scared of my dreams tonight.
This past week, my dreams have been littered with old lovers and connections lost or never even found. I dreamed of pulling one of said lovers from a dark pit where he was being attacked by something otherworldly...I was at the top of a slide, on my stomach reaching down into the abyss... I grabbed him by the wrists and pulled him up to me, pushed him up above me so that I could climb up and over him, look down at him, admire him...love him...if you know what i mean.

I dreamed I was a teacher at a boarding school and and almost got fired for being out too late with a man that I had been seeing. I was confronted with evidence of my rendezvous in the form of dirty green and gold feathers that had fallen off of my dress as I ran through the dark streets knowing I was late and not wanting to be stuck with the man in question. after being chastised and told to go to my room and pack my things, I found myself in the corner wedged between the wall and the bed with another old flame that still has yet to go out and I curled up with him, only to have him flip over and hold me down, overpowering me, making me love him...

I dreamed of sitting, holding hands with the one time love of my life, looking down and seeing our hands old and liverspotted, with nothing but swirling dark space below us.

I dreamed of running, running, running, faces blurring past in my desparation to create a distance between myself and a man who still to this day tries to suck my strength away. I woke up sweating from that one, knowing that I of course...was born to run.

This weekend my real life was a menagerie of new flames flickering and old flames sparking in agitation as I was bombarded by a series of situations that I could in no way, deal with because really, there was no time to and there was just too much of it at once.
I move forward too quickly and my heart flutters too rapidly to be seen clearly or felt intimately for any long period of time and so the flames grow brighter, feeding on the energy I seem to create in my frenzied motion and as they do, they sometimes manage to hem me in, making me vulnerable to their heat.
I can't help it, I love them all so much yet not any one of them enough(o.k. well maybe one, you know who you are...stalker). It is just that I find myself overwhelmed with the belief that I am meant to be just this...an independent woman that is free to experience whatever affection she may come across and affect their lives and my own in the process...for better or for worse but I would like to think better for the most part because I am meant to be the woman that runs. the rapid accumulation of experience is what I need because whether it is in my life or in my dreams I am always running, the faces blurring past, my feet light as air and my mind higher than the sky...only once in a while my feet pausing in midstride, bringing the faces into focus and making my heart beat in time with another...sometimes it lasts days, sometimes it lasts months, sometimes it lasts years...but it never lasts forever because when I have learned what I can, my body and mind get the itch to move forward, to gain more understanding and the weight of another seems to hold me back, still my motion, slow my mind, stop my heart and when that happens, my creativity atrophies.
So, this may be my truth. o.k. I suppose but sometimes the damned dreams threaten to break my sanity, leaving me feeling empty and confused. I miss them all, I love them all...even when they don't love me anymore because they are still a part of me and I know that the reason it ended was because I had to let it go, I had to run and move forward in space in time, to be what I am and fulfill my need for independence. I usually know what I am letting go of and though it hurts everytime, I know that doing it was right because I am a bad girlfriend(not a bad lover, only a bad girlfriend) and that am not meant to be pinned down and held captive, forced to be content with the same face day after day. I do not like being an object that can be held, can be owned. I like being an object that can be desired, an object that is in motion while creating energy in its wake...whether that energy haunts me later or not.
so it goes, I am a fickle bitch.
or maybe I just have not found somebody that can keep up with my rapidly changing mind, my high energy life...or maybe I have and he just keeps eluding me...running from me.

knowledge is power.
Current mood: thirsty

First of all, let it be known that this is not so much a political rant as a spiritual rant about politics and the life we as americans or better yet humans, are all in together.
I don't know about the rest of you, but I have never been so excited about a presidential race...ever. yeah yeah yeah, the last time, when Bush fought for his second term, I was on the edge of my seat, my heart in my throat, my fear taking over because I already felt that I knew the outcome. I knew that his charisma would win out once more despite the obvious fact that he was an imbecile. Kerry just was not powerful enough. Not charismatic enough because I hate to say it but that is what it has boiled down to over the years, a popularity contest. We could be sad about this or we could do what I have already done, see a glimmer of hope or better yet a bit of amusement at the thought that the stupidity of the masses may just tip the scales...in the right direction, or at least the direction that may make this country salvageable for now. Of course everybody has their opinion on the matter and mine does not matter much in the big scheme of things and really, nobody elses does either and that is why i am not giong to go into the details of the election or my particular views on the matter. I just wanted to take a moment and appreciate the beauty of a growing consciousness (within this country at least) that has slowly been making an effort to defy violence and vote for beauty, whether that be literally or figuratively.
I have lived so much of my life in fear. In fear of the future, in fear of fate. Having children at first only intensified my fears, made them even more real, more imminent. I have, over the course of my career as a mother, learned to let go of those fears and embrace the strength within. I guess that is why I take interest in these things...politics and such. Not that I believe in them or really care all that much about them, I know that there are a lot of untruths littering our perspective of our government. I only like to keep up, arm myself with what knowledge I can to keep my fears at bay and teach my daughters that knowledge is power and you have to know exactly what is going on so that you can attempt to make your decisions wisely. so yes, i take an extreme interest in this election, knowing that history is being made and that we are on the verge of destruction, another empire possibly about to expire. I am intrigued by this race, this competition to see who will come out on the proverbial top and inherit this giant pile of decaying shit...and that my friends, is how I keep the fear tamped down...I take it all for what it is and keep my eyes wide open because life is what it is and that is all that is. we are all going to die, in fact we are all dying right now so let's have a good time, find amusement where we can and love and nurture our children to give them the strength to reach adulthood and be able to experience every range of emotion and physical sensation because I guess that is what it is all about. Living. So, here we go.

But hey, that is not to say that I have not studied the logistics of sustainable living, gardening and pretty much surviving if our current political climate grows hotter, even less stable and our food/oil/energy sources grow more scarce because as I said before, knowledge is power. and the real, inevitable truth is right there on the horizon.

catholic remnants
Current mood: amused
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural

Last night my head hurt and my throat hurt and my dreams were fucked.
It seems that the moment my head hit the pillow, the dreams began...starting off with me driving a trailer(actually driving the trailer, no car attached) that used to be a slaughterhouse on wheels, it was painted with red and black laquer on the outside and had just a bed and yellow walls on the inside. I had to sit on the edge of the head of the bed and keep my feet crossed at the ankles to work the pedals, the outside of my right foot worked the brake, the outside of my left foot, the gas, and the steering was a bitch seeing as how I was facing the axle side and the stupid thing kept turning...I was trying to move the trailer away from the busy street that it was on so that I could sleep in it. It had no locks and i was scared of sleeping in it with all of those people walking by. I ended up driving up a mountain and parking it at the edge of a cliff ...I lay down and there was a knocking at the door. an exboyfriend(no names here) had come to visit me, to lay down with me. I was happy. I turned, wrapping my arms around him to cuddle him and kiss his neck but he shoved my arms away and told me that he did not want me(this was the story of our real life relationship as well). I turned away feeling terrible and found that I could not sleep so I got out of the bed. I stepped out of the trailer and spotted a red truck with a red camper coming toward me in the distance. there was an old toothless man driving it, his hair matted and grey. I thought that he was making his way toward me to run me over but he instead yanked his steering wheel to the right veering off over the edge of the cliff. I got scared and ran to the edge to see how far he had to drop only to find that he was not dropping. he was driving...well actually skidding, down the cliffs face, rocks spraying up behind him. Curiosity got the best of me and I turned, looking for a way down the mountain and spotted a stairwell at the far edge of the cliff. it wrapped around and around the sides of the mountain. I ran, hoping not to miss anything. finally, the stairs ended in a clearing that was not quite the bottom of the mountain for the ground was still sloped and gravelly, dotted with low lying shrubs and boulders. I looked around and(for those of you who know me, this is gonna seem weird) spotted God. He was God like in the cartoons. in fact he was God like in the family guy, and he seemed to be waiting, checking his watch, tapping his foot. it was then that I heard it, the sound of crunching gravel and I looked up and saw him, the toothless man. he was sliding down into the clearing on his truck though all that was left was the axle and floor of the truck. no wheels or body. he was using a giant ten foot staff that looked like a crowbar and was made out of plastic to guide himself into the clearing. His face was lit up like christmas and turned toward God who waited with open arms. he slid right into God, toppling him over into the dirt and dust, scraping him underneath the floor of his truck and they just kept on going down the mountain and out of my sight. I just stood there confused as to what I should do. I suddenly realised that I had my sidewinder?(the little thing from the eighties that you sat on and it had handles that you turned from right to left to gain momentum. it was really just a seat and some wheels that you could turn) so I decided to get on it and make my way down the mountain. The going was easy for me as though either the rocks did not exist any longer or I was now floating, looking up at the sky and realising that the sky was blue and you could see the moon. this is what I was thinking when I woke up

no violent rain, only violet rain.
Current mood: happy
Category: Life

My daughter and I sat outside the coffee shop today, she played with her miniature barnyard jungle animals, I sat talking to my best friend. The sky was overcast, the sun hiding his face. I promised her yesterday that we would go to the pool today. She reminded me every time the clouds shifted, letting in a bleak little ray here and there. It was too cold to go swimming so I began to bribe her with trips to the park in hope of a distraction. She agreed with an audible sigh and we went to the local park next to NC states campus. The park that has its own little ghetto train that circles the playgrounds and man-made pond complete with little wooden bridges. I was feeling lazy and wanted her to play on the playground without my assistance while I read my book...of course that was not going to happen. She began trying to coerce me into taking her on the train "just once...pleeeaaase," I agreed and we made our way over there, I with my step slow and disinterested, she with her feet barely skimming the sidewalk in her excitement. We climbed into the miniature cars and I felt her lean her sweaty little body into mine,swinging her feet, bouncing with excitement. I looked over at her noting her red little face, her freckles darkened from the sun and began to feel a little more conscious. conscious of the moment, conscious of my company...a little girl at the park with her mom, getting to ride on the train that goes over the bridge "so fast it feels windy". I listened to her rattle on about each and every part of the ride and even the park that she deemed her favorite as we made our way through the tunnel and over the pond. we looked down and saw the pedal boats and I started to think about taking her in them. I commented on them and she thought them to be "too scary" and it was then that I decided that we would go on them before we left. when the train ride was over I said nothing of my intention as I led her to the little dock and heard her squeal behind me. she asked me why we were going down there and I told her that I was going to take her UNDER the bridge and then maybe she would have a new favorite thing about the park. when we got to the bottom, she got herself as close as humanly possible to my legs without actually tripping me and let me put a lifevest on her. We got in the little blue boat fairly uneventfully and set off for the middle of the pond my hand firmly on the steering wheel, hers firmly under her bottom, gripping the seat she was on. she slowly began to relax as I pedaled and skimmed our way toward the ducks commenting on each one. She began to point out to me their various colors and what each one was doing. she pointed out the lost feathers floating on the water and asked me if the birds missed them. she pointed out the flowers blooming on the bank guarded by the "pretty mean gooses" that hissed and flapped as we floated by...a little too close for comfort. she pointed out the ducks that were sleeping with their heads tucked under their wing and asked me if they were shy. she pointed out the ducks hiding in the branches of the low lying juniper bushes around the water. we talked about the differences between the girl ducks and the boy ducks and why they were so different looking. the little girl noticed every little thing and I found myself really listening and really enjoying her 5year old company. I should really do that more often because after we picked up her sister from camp and went home, I still craved her company so much that I decided to play barbies with her, dressing them

The ins and outs, ups and downs.
Current mood: sad
Category: Life

I make it through my life, day to day, still breathing, still "feeling" but sometimes, sometimes I just collapse. Sometimes the feelings of loneliness and despair are so strong I can barely move.

My mother has that effect on me at times. I have spent my whole life trying to get her to notice me, to want to understand me but all I have ever been awarded is her blind eye, her aggressive indifference. The things in her life are more important. If I am not in the hospital or about to be homeless, her mind is checked out, on vacation. This may seem like nothing, this may be more than some people get. I know this. I know that some peoples mothers abandoned them, I know that some peoples parents abused them, I know that some people have no parents. I am not talking about them. I am talking about the way it feels to be alone. To feel as though you have nobody to reach out to, nobody to be proud of you, nobody to recognize that you have emotions that are a little different. because the person who is your designated parent is just a body that only exposes surface emotions, a person who checks out 90% of the day and has no interest in who you are. They are all consuming, they are big and dramatic but they EXIST. What does it do to a person to never have them embraced? Recognized? It turns them into me, a beaten down, commitment phobic, attention starved little girl in a womans body.

I talked to my mother today, told her about my art show…like I always do. She acted like I was not talking, like she always does. She just continued to yell at the dog, talk to my daughter, intermittently seguing into coversation about my brother, his wife, her eye dr. visit. It was like my emotions were just being sucked into a void, disintegrated in the fire of her fear. Her fear of my heart, my weirdness, my intensity. How are you unconcerned with your own flesh and blood? How do you overlook the things that matter to your only daughter most? Does it stem back to her childhood, back to her abusive mother that pushed her into abusive relationships with men later in her adult years? Meanwhile, trying to tow two children around, children with no fathers to speak of, children who only managed to burden her in her quest for a man, her need to indulge her insecurities with sex and attention, children that she eventually left behind, left with her mother, her lifejob far too tiring. Or is it just me, is it just that I somehow inspire this sort of behavior., this need to hurt me, shoot me down, make me know that I do not matter that much? Or is is just sheer disappointment in who I have become? No need to acknowledge her art, she should not be doing it anyhow. She should have a job "in the real world" being "successful", doing what her mother did…going to school, getting a "real job". Now keep in mind that I have long since understood what "success" means to me and it is not necessarily monetary. Not that it would not help but ultimately, I want to make money doing something I love…and I will, I have drive, I have initiative, I have desire. I have just taken the long way around and that is what has put me in the place I am In currently. Success means raising my children to be good, open people while giving them the attention that they need and proving to them that with a little hard work and initiative you can do whatever you want. That is why I do what I want. That is why I try to explore my own mind, my own emotions. To teach them that they can too. Success means knowing my children and learning to love the people they may grow up to become. Success means learning to love myself. Jesus. Sounds so cliché but it is just so true.

None of this matters and in the long run, the way my mom treats me, the way she is so good at sucking the wind out of my lungs, forcing my stomach to ice over, my limbs to turn to lead just from her indifference in the face of my very real excitement…it does not matter because it will not change. The only thing that can change in a situation like this is my ability to deal with it and grow, keeping up with my forward momentum. I will not let let my pain arrest my development any more. My life may already be 1/3 over, maybe less than that. My mom has issues, she has transferred some of them onto me but I am creative. I write, paint. I love to paint. I need to paint, it lessens my lifes hurts. Keeping up with it helps me move through my self loathing, my insecurities, it gives me strength and proves my mother wrong…I guess. God, after all of this, I know that I would still rather her have her be proud of me, be impressed by me and my strength. I want her to see that I learned to be a good single mom…against the odds. Ah maybe that is exactly it. She knows that she let me down when I was young, deep down she knows that but does not understand that I love her anyhow. I want her to love me anyhow. Maybe she instead, feels a little bit of anger, a little bit of jealousy, a little bit of insecurity. Maybe? That sounds egotistical but what else could it be? I know this is deep and way too exposing but I bare my soul to strangers for a reason. To know tha t I am not alone, I am not the only one who has felt neglect, I am not the only one who is scared, overwhelmed and unsure. Unsure of my place in the world, in my mind, in my heart.

I know that I love my kids. I know that. Maybe this is a sign that I need to pull my head out of my own stressed out ass and pay attention to my kids. Don't do what my mother has done. Break the cycle.

phases of life
Current mood: contemplative

I woke up this morning my head dream free for once, leaving my train of thought unclouded. It was eight am and the shower was already running meaning that my oldest daughter was up, getting ready for school. She does that these days. all on her own no less. I rolled over, attempting to wake up my four year old daughter from her apparently dream filled sleep. She just hummed a muffled little"loveyoumommy" and rolled over. I cuddled her for a moment and then ripped her covers off and asked her what she wanted to wear today. she informed me that she wanted to be pretty today. Not surprising for a young girl like herself. any girl really, who doesn't want to be pretty? anyhow, I picked her out a black skirt pink shirt and brushed her hair up into pigtails urging her to brush her teeth and then made my way downstairs to wait for my oldest to be ready to go to school. few moments later, Lily(my oldest) made her own way down the stairs her face puffy and tired, her mood questionable, hair dripping wet down her back, an old grubby tye dye shirt with the names of all her friends written across the front and back. for pants, she had on some old grey ones that were getting a bit too tight and she had of course, failed to do up the zipper all the way. on her feet were old flip flops despite the cool weather this morning. I sighed, resigned to say nothing because it is her decision these days. She is ten years old and I let her make decisions concerning her appearance for the most part. This is part of the reason I am writing now.

we piled into the car, windows down partway, the cool air blowing over sleep warm skin. I tuned into NPR listening with one part of my brain while turning over the things I wanted to do today with the other part. Paint, pay bills, write, excersise...I looked into the rearview mirror, focusing in on Violet(my youngest) and saw that she had plugged Lilys earphones into her ears and was singing out loud, her face filled with emotion for the song she was hearing. Waiting for the light to turn, I then looked over at Lily watching her as she stared out the window, her eyes dreamy, her brow furrowed. I wondered what she was thinking and it was then that I thought of the thing I am trying to get at now:

My daughters are themselves just as I am myself and was myself when I was their age. The things that they do, the clothes that they choose to wear are their own decisions to make. Decisions that are made to bring them closer to be people that they will become. We are all constantly going through phases in our lives, phases that we must go through to find ourselves. to become comfortable in our own skins. I am no exception. when I sit, contemplating what I will do each day, what I will paint, what bills I will pay, what thoughts I will ponder, I am bringing myself closer to the person I will ultimately be in the end. the better painter, the more responsible woman, the healthier minded adult. when Violet tells me that she wants to be "pretty" she is excercising her choice to present herself to the world in the way that she sees fit. when Lily decides to go against her peers standards by not caring about her appearance, she is making a choice to be herself despite what others think. these are all just different phases in our lives and I find it interesting and anxiety inducing all at once. I worry for my children, what their decisions will bring them or not bring them. the people that they may become on their own and with my help.

These are the things going through my mind as I drop off my oldest daughter with a kiss and a wave, watching her as she plods toward the school entrance, head down face firmly set as she readies herself for this world that she inhabits everyday...without me. I then continue on, driving my youngest to her school. We get out and I hold my hand out to her to cross the parking lot. I lead her into her classroom and watch her as she shyly greets her classmates. She drops my hand, making her way toward the line at the sink to wash her hands, giggling a greeting to her friends. I have been dismissed. I sigh inwardly and turn toward the door...it is then that I see her classmate Ahmads mother. She has two girls in tow with her that I have never seen. They look to be about four and five and they both have face masks on. The kind of masks that cancer patients wear to keep away the germs only theirs are decorated with pictures of minnie mouse. Apparently these two children are her neices and I watch as they look on at the other children, eagerness and excitement all over their timid little faces. The other children eye the girls with curiosity wondering about their masks. I over hear the woman talking with violets teacher, telling her that the youngest of the two girls was born without an immune system. She was given a marrow transplant but they had yet to find out whether it had taken hold yet. Until then they are not allowed to attend school...either of them because of the germs they may come into contact with. My heart flips inside my chest as I think of the phases these two girls will go through. The sick one will obviously have a lot of emotions and obstacles that most people will never have to go through...especially at such a young age...fear,, hope, isolation. Her sister, the one who is NOT sick will have her own obstacles. she will no doubt have to deal with a huge responsiblity for one so young. She cannot attend school and be with her peers for fear of getting her sister sick. I am sure that the two sisters do not have many friends other than eachother. It is then that I think, with guilty relief that my daughters may never have to go through this sort of thing. they are lucky. the obstacles that they will go through will be no more, no less than any other. I find my anxiety flooding away at this thought.

sigh. life can be so interesting and yet so tragic and the lessons learned within all that are what make us who we are.

the day I fucked Jack White
Current mood: talkative
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural

For the past five days, I have lain around my house getting fatter and fatter due to an absolute lack of upper moibility. I thought I would be able to excercise but I was mistaken. too much activity makes my shoulder throb so I have been just here, drifting in and out of sleep and you know what that means...the other night I had a dream that I was at a white stripes concert, waiting with the rest of the crowd for them to start playing. I was standing off to the right of the stage out of the way of the bright lights. The venue was oddly built, kind of like a coliseum with liveable rooms like houses all around the edge of the pit that was there for the band and the audience. outside of that, at the edge of the liveable spaces was a sort of glassed in track with trees and shrubbery on either side of the actual pavement that let you walk the circumfrence of the building without having to leave it, meanwhile being able to see the trees blooming and the cars zooming by outside. o.k. back to me, standing at the side of the stage, there I stood, listening to the impatient clamoring of the audience as I peered around curiously at the non white stripes seeming crowd, littered with children and mothers, young people and old people. Suddenly I felt somebodies hands on my shoulders, attempting to turn me around. I complied and found myself face to face with JACK WHITE(for those of you who don't know, I am in love with him and would like nothing better than to have tenthousand of his babies) as he looked into my eyes soulfully and leaned in to kiss me. I kissed him back with my eyes closed only to find that when I opened them I was no longer standing at the side of the stage but lying in some shrubbery that grew along the edge of the track around the coliseum. Jack was gone but apparently we had sex and I missed it. I was terribly upset but none of that mattered because before I could even throw a tantrum, I looked up to see the glow of police lights flashing through the glass of the building and it looked as though there were barricades set up and I could suddenly hear the roar of the crowd as they sped past me laying in the dirt, attempting to bum rush the exit in hopes of escaping. I looked up to see them being beaten back by police with batons, shields and protective masks. As the crowd shrank back for a moment in confusion, the doors were barred from the outside...at this, the mob began hurling themselves at the glass walls that kept them from the world outside. it did not shatter nor crack. The realisation slowly dawned on me...we were trapped. As I felt the panic rising in my throat at the thought of being trapped with thousands of people I did not know, I noticed a crackling over the P.A. system. The police outside were informing us that we had all been infected with a skin eating virus and were not allowed out of the building...ever. I looked around me and began to see the effects of this skin eating virus taking place. people around me foaming green at the mouth, their skin beginning to slough and bubble off. the result was a crowd of people with leprosy like sores that were green and foamy that left viscous trails behind them when they moved. The people that were already really far gone were almost skinless, having traded their epidermis for something that looked a bit like green floam(kid stuff). The sick, scary thing was the far goners started to get a sort of rabid gleam in their eyes when watching the others who were beginning to shed the foamy green trails. I watched in horror as they suddenly swooped down and began eating the green shit that was bubbling out of those around them. It was then that I regained some semblance of composure and immediately tried climbing up a nearby tree in an attempt to keep myself healthy. no sores yet. I remember the view from up there so clearly, directly below me were the gyrating, skin sloughing mass and to the right of me, through the glass, was the regular world, cars zipping by, the sun beginning to fade, a few police officers standing about next to their cars watching us through the glass their mouths turning up in satisfied smiles, knowing that we had all been sufficiently quarantined. it was then that I got my so called brilliant idea. I hopped down intent on baring my breasts to distract the police guard fiddling with the barred door, making sure it was locked...it worked but as soon as I set foot outside of the door, an angry mob of police officers and civilians materialized out of nowhere and catching me by the arms and throwing me to the ground while alternately kicking and punching me in the upper body until I lost consciousness. when I came to, I was in my own bed and the dream was over.

sheesh. what will my cracked, warped brain come up with next?

loneliness, my savior
Current mood: thankful
Category: Life

I welcome loneliness like an old friend. I wrap myself in the silence happy to be able to hear my thoughts once more. I find it comforting that sometimes the only human contact that i get comes from the giggles and screams of my children. Their questions and far fetched stories, their cries in the night. Whenever I try to incorporate another adult into my life on a more intimate level than friendship, I find myself growing tense. Wondering how it will ever work, how I will ever be able to integrate the two. I enjoy wandering around my house alone, drinking beer, and smoking cigarettes late at night on my porch, my phone turned off, my book in my hand. I enjoy busting out my paint at eleven pm, letting my imagination run wild. I enjoy thinking and writing whatever I feel without the heart of another tangling my thoughts, my visions and dreams. why is this? is this just fierce independence? or is it maybe just too much damage in my past so that I have now curled in upon myself seeking solace in my own mind?

Taking care of my children and watching them grow was once a task that seemed too overwhelming to attempt alone but as we grow older, I find myself happier with the small family that I have cultivated. Content to write about the things that they do, the things that touch my heart and move me to feel. I once wanted somebody to share all this with but now, things have changed and I feel as though we have moved too far away from the beginning to turn back. Too many events have come and gone with only me to witness that now the wall around our family has grown and it is just too high for anybody to scale, the door rusted shut unable to be opened again. the loneliness permeates the air inside and though this may seem sad there is something comforting in its consistency. I will always be here and so will my daughters. This is something I can count on...so I guess I will.

dreams and nightmares
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural

hmmm. o.k. this one is VERY disturbing...for the record. I am now officially afraid of my own mind.

I was in what seemed to be a bar and all around me were asian people(chinese to be exact) with the exception of about three white people other than myself. one of these people was a boy that I guess was my friend and the other two people were girls, one of which had short dark hair and freckles while her friend had long flaming red wavy hair with creamy pale skin. they stood out in the sea of dark round faces and hooded, slanted eyes. I was sitting at the bar and out of the corner of my eye, caught some movement at the back of the dark bar. Two men(asian of course), one tall and lanky, the other grizzled and stocky were making their way toward the caucasian girls at the table behind me. I turned to see their eyes widening as the short man came at the redhead with a machete that seemed to come out of thin air. I heard a muffled moan and saw the lanky one making a grab for the dark haired one. she turned and ran and like it tends to be in dreamworld, just disappeared. I turned to my friend and he was just shaking his head back and forth, a look of confusion on his face. He mouthed, "she's dead" I asked, "how do you know?" he nodded toward the bar and I turned to see the stocky one now manning the bar. He asked if I was hungry and I slowly shook my head from side to side too fearful to even speak. it was then that he produced a blender from underneath the bar and carefully set on the bar, a little bit to the side. after that he turned to get a cutting board and a I suddenly heard the rustling of a garbage bag. 'Oh God' I thought, 'he is going to chop the girl up' and that he did...piece by piece, with his back turned to us, muttering under his breath. talking about her nipple piercings, musing aloud about how good hers looked and how he wished that he himself had gotten his so straight and maybe if he had not killed her so soon, he may have been able to ask her where she got them done. it was then that I heard a females sharp staccato voice, speaking in chinese(which of course, seeing as how this was dreamland, I understood). She seemed to be berating him for his clumsiness, his stupidity. We (my friend and I) both looked up at this point to find that the woman was heading straight for us, her eyes boring into mine. she was short, asian and seemed to be in her mid to late forties, her hair curled into a puff that framed her dark face. she was dressed in plain, frumpy clothes, polyester pants, button up houseshirt but there was something undeniable about her power. we both knew immediately that she was the one in charge in this place. at this point, we heard the whir of the blender being fired up. I looked and saw what seemed to be a reddish orange sauce being mixed. I was asked again if I was hungry, after shaking my head, no the woman cut in and told me that I was...it was then that she plopped two bowls in front of us and I looked down only to feel my stomach leap into my mouth. in my bowl was what looked to be some sort of pickled gelatinous meat, coated with the reddish sauce with maybe some mushrooms or something floating throughout. Upon second inspection, I found that on top , where there was no sauce, was a tongue...complete with tastebuds and...tongue ring. that was when I realised that the mushrooms were in fact eyeballs and that I had no choice but to eat it because my seemingly angry hostess was now brandishing a knife, swinging it from me to my friend, a sneer on her face as we started to eat. I felt as though I could feel each piece, gluey in my mouth, my body attempting to gag and rid itself of this disgustingly foreign object.

cut to my friend finishing his food and then offering to finish mine. after it was gone, we were free to wander outside into what seemed like a courtyard, with chainlinked fences hemming us in. it was beautiful outside, with the sun shining through the trees but when I looked up I saw that there were strange hoses and pipes weaving in and out of the branches. at this point i overheard the woman again and noticed that she was making her way outside with two men behind her and the young, short dark haired woman between them, struggling against the hands that were pushing her forward. The woman was now shouting and wailing as they made their way toward a glass room located at the far corner of the courtyard. the older woman swung open the door and the men shoved the young woman inside. they bent her over roughly and starting shoving tubes up what I think must have been her ass. the woman was now screaming and I could hear the older telling her that it was for her own good. that this would help here to be more fertile. they shut the door, pushed a switch and a loud whining sound pervaded the entire courtyard. my friend and I decided to make our way to a what seemed like a nice parkbench far away from the action only to find that they were sucking out shit and blood from this womans body cavities and it was making its way through the clear tubes directly above us and of course, the tubes leaked. I began to feel droplets hitting my face like a slow rain beginning and my friend grabbed my arm and we ran. we ran to the very corner of the yard and found that part of the chainlink had been pulled back. we climbed up as quickly as we could and shoved our way through the hole scraping our stomachs and arms in the process. we tumbled headfirst into a quiet suburban neighborhood. we ran into what seemed to be a familiar house and heard a baby crying. I went to pick up the baby and found that the baby was pale skinned with round eyes. I sighed with relief thinking that we were finally safe when I heard the floor creak and turned slowly fearing the worst and there she was. the older asian woman. I tried to run but she was advancing quickly. more quickly than I could respond and it was then that she began pulling knifes out from under skin. from between the joints in her knees, her elbows, her neck. I felt each stab of these tiny daggers and began trying to pull them out and throw them back at her. ppppppppffffttt. then my alarm went off and I was awake and I was scared but so damned glad to be awake.

he golden elevator
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural

my dreams are strange yet cohesive, my mind a tangled web of thought, knowledge and imagination. I woke up with the last shreds of my subconscious falling away, only to grab onto them for fear of losing them. this was one I wanted to remember. I was on a boat, travelling to the man made edge of the world. I was part of a research team that was attempting to stop the effects of global warming. There had been a brick wall built in an attempt to stop the water from rising. we thought that keeping some of the water at bay would help keep the water from rising up onto the continents. when the boat docked at a ledge about four feet wide that travelled for miles and miles, I looked up only to find that the wall was so high that it blotted out the sun and the end of it could not be discerned. I turned my gaze back out to the sea and beheld a cluster of islands and an expanse of glittering, turquoise ocean. where I stood it was dark, but out there, the sun was shining bright and hot. My companions and I started to walk down the ledge toward a door in the wall, we were there to meet the team who had been living there for the past three months. On the way, we encountered a large grey and black bird who was rather cute, but as I approached it, it puked up strands that looked like tongues or ribbons that were about six to seven feet long, they covered my body and felt sticky like a sea anenome, at that moment I heard the door in the wall open and a hand grabbed my arm pulling me in and away from the creature and its probing tongues. the rest of my team was already inside and as my eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, I saw all kinds of wires and machines, in the middle of the room and at the far end of the room on the righthand side, there was what seemed to be an elevator with gold sliding doors. I sat there for a while, talking with my colleagues...one in particular caught my interest. He was a handsome dark haired man who seemed intelligent and engaging with clear blue eyes. he wore dark fitted jeans and a grey sweater. somehow everything else fell away and he and I were leaning in for a kiss. Suddenly he opened his mouth and the things that came from the birds mouth outside, came from his. they wrapped around me in a way that was pleasurable but disconcerting. I found myself giving in because the feeling of vertigo that I was left with was just too strong. At that point, I started to focus on the others around me and overheard a conversation they were having about the elevator. Apparently the elevator had the ability to take you from one part of the world to the next, depending on which button you pushed. the idea of this was just too overwhelming for me to resist, so I turned, breaking away from the man only to realise that he was the grey and black bird I had met outside. suddenly scared, I began to run toward the golden elevator doors, the only bright thing in this dark dismal room, I pushed the button and doors opened revealing what looked like a regular elevator with a young woman standing inside. she was dressed in a business suit and heels. she held the door for me and I ran inside feeling relief as the door closed behind me. she asked me where I wanted to go and I told her I did not know, maybe the mountains, and she told me she was on her way to the city and proceeded to push a bunch of buttons and the elevator began to move. it moved quickly, making my stomach drop and it seemed to descend for quite a long time, ten minutes at least. suddenly she pushed a button and the doors opened...we were between floors? there was a forest below and a city above complete with people walking around(we could see their feet) and car horns honking. I could hear the chirping of birds and felt confused and scared. I looked closer and saw that between the two worlds was nothing but space and stars. I stood frozen as the woman panicked and ran out into the forest, her high heels sinking down into the earth, she was stuck and that was when I spied the mountain lion behind her. My heart starting pounding as I jammed buttons frantically trying to get the doors to close. that was when my alarm went off. thankfully. I really did not want to see what happened in this dream. I could only imagine it would've been gruesome. sheesh.