December 6, 2008



I just wanted to let everyone know that I haven't gone off the deep end and did something stupid. I am in Portland right now and I must say I haven't felt like this in a long time. I feel like me, Heather, once more. It's kind of amazing. I will post pics of my adventures when I come back.

And fyi, I was totally licked by a incredibly hot stripper.. Before I came up here I had never gone to a strip club. It was not even close to what I thought it would be. It wasn't sleezy in the least and what these woman do is more like naked gymnastics. Plus they are super sweet. So yeah, many adventures have been had and I have way more to go!


December 1, 2008

In My Head - This Says it Better Than I Can

Don't mind the video, it's the song that matters.

This song is also drifting in and out of my head.

November 29, 2008

Unexpected Adventures

Okeydoke, first off I'm ok, I've just been out and about and haven't really been at a computer to sit and write. My upped meds have definitely kicked in and I feel “normal”. Sorry if I concerned anyone I just haven't really been able to sort out my thoughts into words. Last night I did something that cements my overall wellbeing. I went on a date with a guy I only met once. I know this doesn't sound like a big deal but ohhhhhh man was it lol. I usually get incredibly anxious and psych myself out before the date and am incredibly jittery and tense while on the date. Thanks to half of a little magical pill my attitude was pretty much “Whatev's, this will be an adventure”. I actually had a lot of fun. He's quite sweet, but not like any other fellow I've ever dated. I usually go for the skinny nerdy hipster type boys who all seem to be more than a little douchey or “emotionally unavailable” but are emotionally prepared to have sex...Lets just say that if this was a cheesy high school movie this fellow would be the quarterback and I'd be the quirky artsy girl. I met him during the marina bar crawl (I'm the girlthat people had to help up because I fell on my ass... a totally "awesome" candid moment to catch....) I did so:
1. I never expected a call
2. I was more than a little intoxicated by the time we made it to that bar so I honestly couldn't remember what he looked like
3. It's the marina....
He admitted that he wasn't really a big fan of the area but his friends live around there so he tagged along.

Now this sounds a bit “fluffy” to write but I can't describe how BIG of a step this is for me. As i stated previously usually before any date I hyperventilate, cry and insist that I can't do it, much to my friends dismay. It was amazing to just be relaxed, enjoy myself and most importantly I was MYSELF. I didn't put on a front, I didn't censer myself, I was just me and it was pretty rawsome. He said he'd call me today but so far no go, but I am relaxed enough to not really care. I'm not taking it personally. Just not the right chemistry. It's not because I'm a hag or overweight (which is what I think in my mind but my friends assure me that I'm not.... but now I'm beginning to believe them because I'm reaching the point where I just don't care.... or that could just be today, who knows about tomorrow...)

Anyway, so yeah. Life is just fricken weird. I think it's even weirder for those of us that are “wired differently”. People say that “tomorrow is a new day” but for us, it truly is. We really don't know what the next day will bring. Will we hate ourselves? Will we be happy? Will we be sad? Will we beg for the release of suicide? It can be exhausting and sometimes you feel totally and utterly hopeless but I've learned to hang on because the good is so very, very, very worth it. No matter how low you go, I promise you will get back up. Even if it feels like you've been low forever. Hell, read my entries, I'm proof of it. ;)

So a somewhat lame entry but a little update, a little fluff and a bit of a story.. kinda.. lol

November 23, 2008


Ok, let me just clarify something. I am drunk. Not in a “I need to escape reality” way. More like “it was a marina bar crawl night", This included blond wigs, douches, assholes, twits and cunts. But it was fun and worth it. I promised Mrs. Chelsea that I would post everyday and I'm sorry, for I am 2 hours late.And mister Pat; I am ok! Thanks for your concern and support! *hugs to both!*

So, once again, I am fine. I had a magical pill that made everything ok again. And now must sleep. Goodnight. I shall go into detail later about my adventures. Night y'all.

November 21, 2008


It’s ok now. It’s passed. In fact it’s hard to remember feeling like that at all. It’s so fucked up to go through something like that and then suddenly get chipper again and be like “Oh yeah, I’m fine, totally normal.” HA!


Why do my brain and I have to fight? Why can’t we just get along?

*cue the Youngbloods song - Get Together*

I Can't Hide It. Should I Hide It?

Something is wrong. Something is very wrong. I can’t control my thoughts. I can’t control them at all. They’re racing, racing, racing. I forgot my pill, I forgot my pill that calms me down. I took my medication this morning but it’s not working. Why is it not working? I can’t type fast enough. I won’t let myself make typos.


Is there a God? I broke down last night and was rocking back and forth like I used to. I was begging anyone to listen to me but I hid from my roommate. I always hide, always hide. I hide everything. I have to. No one can know. I forgot my pill. I forgot my pill. I can’t cry. Not here. Not at work. I can’t let my boss see me break down. No one can know, no one can know. But that doesn’t make sense does it? You know, you’re reading this. Why am I posting this? Am I doing it for attention? Is this all for attention? But why wouldn’t I know? Why would I be so confused? Why can’t I control my brain? Am I pretending? Have I gotten caught up in one of my characters? Have I lost myself? I don’t remember taking my pill out of my bag. I can type but why can’t I calm down? I can’t do this here. I can’t I can’t. Should I post this without typos? Should I post this at all? Why do I post anything? My ramblings are inane. What’s going on with my memory? Why can’t I remember anything? How can I correct my spelling? Why is this happening? What was my trigger? Is it because I read a book where the mother is loving and caring and there? Is that why? Is it my mother? Why is this happening now. I wish I had my pill, then this would stop. Oh god am I going crazy? I don’t want you to worry, I won’t do something stupid. I can’t. I’m strong enough I have to be strong enough. But if I was strong why would this happen? Is it all in my head? What’s normal? Does everyone go through this? Am I really bipolar? Are these just racing thoughts that I don’t want to control? Am I doing this on purpose? Is this normal? How could I be so stupid to take my pill out of my bag. Why does what anyone think matter? Why do I ping people? Why do I assume I know what they’re thinking? I feel like they’re judging me. Everyone is judging me. I’m ugly, they’re laughing at me. My hair, they’re laughing at me. Am I pretending I’m something I’m not? Is this fake? Last night I called my sister but she didn’t pick up, she never picks up. If I really am freaking out like this how can I type? Is it helping? Maybe. I don’t know, I don’t know. Why is this happening now? I was doing ok, I was doing ok. Am I faking it? Why wouldn’t I know, why wouldn’t I stop. Am I having an anxiety attack? Am I panicking? I don’t know, I don’t know. I promise I won’t do anything stupid. I won’t I won’t. Don’t call me I’ll cry. I can’t cry. I have to hide it. I have to hide it. Should I go home and get my pill? Will my boss be able to tell? I was late, so late. I couldn’t get out of bed. I am so disgusting. My throat is closing up. I need to breath I need to breath. Why won’t these thoughts stop? Is it because I’m a terrible person? How can I type? Is it fake, am I faking it? I don’t know. How could I be so stupid. Do I need a pill? Does it really work. I’m rocking back and forth. He isn’t here. Should I post this? Will people think I’m crazy? Is it to prove something? Is this real? Is this real? I think it’s stopping. I think it’s stopping. I think the voice stopped. Why am I not strong enough to stop it? Why am I so weak? I hide it, I hide everything. Maybe I’m tired of hiding. I’m filled to the brim and overflowing. I can’t stop it, I can’t stop it. Is this why I push people away? I can’t let them see me like this. Should I up my medication? Should I be on medication? Am I really bipolar or am I faking it? Does everyone have these moments? Why do I care what everyone thinks? I have to hide it I have to hide it. It’s not like I have it bad. My co-workers dad died yesterday. I have it easy I shouldn’t be like this. Am I begging for pity? Why am I freaking out when my life is ok? Why am I so selfish? I want to scratch my arms. I want to focus on something. I won’t I won’t. Then people will ask. I can’t hide it I can’t hide it. Why is this happening to me? I can’t cry, I can’t cry. Maybe if I let go this will stop. Not like let go of life. I can’t do that, I won’t do that. I mean let go and just let the thoughts race instead of fighting it. Or would that lead me to do something stupid? I can’t typo, I can’t typo. It’s coming in waves now. I calm down then it starts but less intense. Is it ending? Should I post this? Should I keep hiding it? Am I really hiding it or can everyone see? Does everyone pity me? Do they like me or are they being nice. I wish I had my pill. Does that make me weak? Am I weak? Why can’t I just stop this on my own? Is it all in my head? Am I just not strong enough? I think it’s done, I think it’s done. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. I can hide this. I have to. I have to. Should I post this? Would you think I’m mad? Am I mad? Should I let someone see what happens to me? Rhymes, I wish I could always speak in rhymes. They’re calming, there calming. If I post this, will it drive people away? Should I be honest? Will this ruin my chances of him ever liking me? Why does it matter? I shouldn’t ever be in a relationship. I can’t do it. I’m crazy. It wouldn’t be fair. Why does it matter, why does it matter? Don’t call me, I’ll cry. I can’t cry. Why do I want someone here? Do I? Can I let them see me like this? This happened once before in front of people but I had a pill. How the fuck could I forget my pill? Do I like feeling like this? Am I just a masochist? Do I do this because it’s familiar? Do I like it? Am I pretending I’m crazy? It’s like there’s a scared animal in my chest. Panicking in a cage. I feel it beating in on my chest. Let me out, let me out. Am I confining it? Should I let it out? Will I be free then? Can I be free? Will this ever stop? Is this forever? I. Can’t. Cry. I’m going to post this before I think about it too much. I can’t think about it too much. Am I mad? Should I re-read it? No no. You tell me, is this normal? Am I just weak? Am I just being dramatic? Am I looking for attention? I don’t mean to. I swear I don’t mean to. Do I? How can I write this then? How can I format it? Am I faking? I don’t know I don’t know. I’m shaking now. Should I post this? Am I looking for attention? Or do I want people to see? I'm sorry. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I have to be fine. I'm sorry. So sorry. Something is wrong. He’s here. Have to hide it.

November 18, 2008

The Forest of My Heart

When I was a child I had a forest. Well… it was actually a rather small patch of land that had grown wild behind our house. It was a dense thicket of trees where the briers and brambles roamed free. All the trees had names because to me they were friends. There was the helicopter tree, the elbow tree the 3 sisters and so on. I would sit and talk to them and I’d pretend their creaks were a response. But the most amazing tree lay right at the start of my forest - the gateway tree. The roots of two trees became entwined and formed a pathway between the center of them. That was my tree. My father would joke that I was a sprite because I'd shimmy up the tree in a matter of seconds and stay there as long as possible, perched among the leaves.

I wasn’t allowed to go outside until someone in the house had woken up. My father would always find me sitting right by the door whenever he'd stumble into the kitchen to make coffee. As soon as he opened the door I would take off through the gateway tree and into my forest. The gateway tree was the door to my magical land that rivaled Terabithia. I’d usually be the first one there and my only two friends (keep in mind my “town” was about 4 blocks big…) Donald and Jimmy would trickle in later. It was the only place I ever felt safe. I would sit in a tree and watch the colors explode in the sky while the sun disappeared. My father's distinctive booming voice would signal the end of the day and the arrival of supper time. I'd scramble down from whatever tree I was in because he would only call 5 times and if I wasn't home after the 5th call, a spanking was sure to follow. While we ate my sister would usually wrinkle her nose and tell my I stink. Looking back I probably did as my mother would have to coax me into the shower. Most of the time I would turn the shower on and just sit on the toilet seat after wetting my hair and pretend I was in the showering. When I’d come out my mother would usually drag me back into the bathroom and demand that I strip and enter the bathtub. She’d sit on the toilet seat and check to make sure I was using shampoo and soap. I never wanted to shower because I loved the scent of the forest rubbed into my skin.

Then something happened that I’ll never forget as it marked the begining of a lesson I would learn over and over. One day I came outside and there were men standing by the my tree, chainsaws in hand. They were from the Lions club whose headquarters resided in the buillding next door which happened to be settled a good 15 feet from my tree. They claimed the tree was too close to the building and was old too old so it would fall soon and possibly damage it. so they inisted it was time to cut it down. I yelled and screamed demanding them to go away and leave my tree alone. My father had to drag me back inside. I stood by the window sobbing uncontrollably as they hacked into my tree. Suddenly the horrible grinding noise stopped and a stream of curses replaced it. The tree had broken the chainsaw. Apparently there used to be a fence near the tree while it was growing, the fence had embedded itself into the trunk of the tree. I prayed to whoever would hear me that they would go away.

They didn’t

Another man showed up with aother chainsaw and the noise began again. I was beyond crying and watched, hiccupping as one of the trees fell. They decided that the other one was far enough away so they stopped. When they had all left I ran to the tree and ran my hands over the rings whispering to it. The magic of it fled and from that moment on a bitter streak started. I used to vandalized the Lion’s Club building by carving into their doors and breaking windows. I would snarl at the men whenever they'd try and give me candy or would refuse to talk to them. I hated them for taking something away from me that was so dear. We moved out of that house when I was about 11 (I really don’t remember that time period at all as that was the time my mother left us). When I finally reached the age where I could drive, I’d visit my forest but it seemed so desolate. The current owners of the house had chopped more of the trees down and I would sit amidst the jagged stumps and cry. My forest was gone.

I’ve found a bit of a replacement in Muir Woods. But since I only have access to it for half a year (there’s a shuttle and I have no car) I don’t get to go nearly as much as I’d like. I did find a special place there. You follow a stream and it leads up through these rocks and BAM a little pond appears with a swing over it. It’s more than a little amazing. Pics of it can be found here.

Charles deLint (who is a brilliant author and one of my favs) writes about a place called your heart home or the forest of your heart. I know it’s strange but the forest that resides in my heart will always be that one. Its hard living in a city where I’m surrounded by trees but don’t have one to call my own. I can find plenty of magical places in the day time like this

but I miss creeping through the woods at night amidst the blues and purples that only the moon can entice out of the shadows. Since walking in the park at night isn’t the smartest idea I just stare out my window at our meager back yard and remember there was once a place I felt safe.

November 14, 2008

Attack of the Future Thanksgiving Meal!

*dramatic sigh* Yes, I was attacked by wild turkeys.

Ok, ok so I was in a car but it was still a traumatic experience nonetheless. My friend Nomi and I went hiking at… um… some place that I don’t remember the name of and on our way back we decided to try a “new” route on the way back, aka we got lost. So we're meandering around on this giant fricken hill, staring at the weird houses that you park ON TOP OF and we round a bend and BAM a dude turkey and his harem were chilling in the middle of the road. Our only response at the time was “Holy fuck bubbles” and Nomi bouncing up down demanding I get my camera out. We slowly crept up on the flock and I oh-so casually rolled down my window and began my best pavarazzi impression.

Mister Turkey was not amused.

He gobbled at us quite menacingly and came right up to the window while, of course, we started squealing in fear and laughing hysterically. Cause you know, turkeys can totally peck through glass and the noise they make - you can’t help but giggle but also get a little scared. Mister Turkey then started to round up the lady turkeys conveying that he wanted them to jump on the roof of the house they were in front of (*note - we were so surprised to see them due to the incredibly populated area. We weren’t out in the middle of nowhere; we were on a giant hill covered with houses. Kinda like a sundae covered with sprinkles). One of the hens took a liking to me and came up to the window and was all like “Hey girl, what’s up?”. Methinks Mister Turkey got a little jealous and all but butted her ass out of the road. The following photos recap our terrifying event:

I got some pretty awesome shots of the trail we were hiking on (*note - I am not a photographer by any means. None of my photos are photoshopped in any way. I’d rather you see something like I see it and not enhanced). Though I think Nomi was ready to throttle me due to the fact I was stopping every five seconds to get a shot. Some of my rad shots (*I am becoming Notey McNoterson) if you click on the photos it should take you to my flickr page where more of them are - WOO WOO!):

All in all there was much discovery of stuff and things.

November 11, 2008

Do Not Say Hella Around Me if You Value Your Eyes

*nervous laugh*

Ahem, so my posts have been a bit… “heavy” lately. For that I apologize. I’ve just been connecting a lot of dots and it helps to type them out rather than cramp my hand from trying to physically write as fast as my thoughts (HA HA HA HA HA… HAHAHAHAH *wipes tear from eye and becomes super serious* That won’t ever happen).

Anyway, onward ho to a nearly pointless tale of a misadventure!

Last night I visited my favorite bar, The House of Sheilds to keep my friend, who is the bartender, company. It’s usually pretty dead on Mondays so we jibber jabber and order pizza while she experiments with new drinks which I so selflessly guinea pig … <_<>_> But last night the energy was a bit "different" as it was our friend Chris’ birthday and he decided to bring the party to the bar.

I don’t think I’ve had to defend a bar stool so vigorously.

There were at least 30 people crammed into the bar and some very confused regulars that had to fight for their booths. Okay, I’m exaggerating a bit. It wasn’t like there was a choreographed knife fight/dance routine like in Westside Story. But that would be SUPER AWESOME if there was, as long as no one got hurt of course! Anyway, Chris is what one would call a “ladies man” and the number of innies definitely outweighed the outties. So there I was sipping my Chimay and greeting the few people I recognized when an interesting conversation over peppered with the words “like” and “hella” caught my attention as did the staggering amount of perfume that wafted near. Now, I’m not judging the particular group of woman that were standing behind me most of the night, I just found their conversations amusing in a totally not condescending way…


Ok so maybe my brain was a little condescending. I COULDN’T HELP IT. I know that I am a really nice person. One could argue that I am too nice as I find myself in situations where I could be likened to a doormat. I give people an ample amount of chances because I know that sometimes life throws curve balls and a person’s first reaction isn’t necessarily a good one. But first off, there should be a limit as to how many sprays of perfume one is allowed. I don’t care how yummy you think a perfume is. PEOPLE NEED TO BREATHE! The same goes for cologne. Come on people! How is anyone going to approach you when their eyes water within three feet of you?? Also, the word hella seems to be my trigger for a psychotic episode in which I try and stab a person’s eye out with a toothpick. Yes I hate it that much…. Anyway I really dug one of their hair cuts so I told her so and asked her how she kept it so straight. Her reply caught me a bit off guard.

“I’m Asian.”

My first reaction probably wasn’t the best as I started laughing hysterically. She raised her eyebrow and politely laughed with me for a brief second and turned back to her friends. Ah ha. That wasn’t awkward at all. Right after that someone made the mistake of placing a tray overflowing with cookies directly in front of me. I’m proud to say it took at least five minutes until I greedily grabbed one and stuffed in my mouth in an oh so ladylike manner. I waited another five minutes to see if anyone else had noticed it. Being the casual cathy I am, I mimicked a felix that cat clock and swayed my eyes left to right as I slid my hand neath the plastic sheath and grabbed another. Then another. A man shimmied up beside me to order a drink and he too noticed the magical baked goods. He asked if he could have one and assuming (which I should know better to NOT do as it makes an ass out of u and me) he was with the party I granted him access to the peanut buttery goodness. I asked him how he knew Chris and he look at me blankly while proclaiming “I haven’t a bloody clue who Chris is”. Ah ha. We laughed and continued to pig out while he praised the “good food” in the states (he was from Scotland) and we discussed my future trip to the Isle of Man. I uh, haven’t set a date for that yet but IT SHALL HAPPEN!! Anywho we split the last cookie and he gave me his e-mail address and that was that. No, I’m not going to e-mail him. Instead I’m taking a trip to good vibrations so I can have a penis with no emotional turmoil.

ANYWAY, back to the conversation that started this whole thing (have I mentioned I digress… a lot. And I bleed tangents. Really…). The “I’m Asian” girl was explaining an apparently “traumatizing” event that occurred at Zeitgeist. Now, if you’ve never been to Zeitgeist it’s a rad bar that has an expansive back area where most of the people sit and it’s what one would call a “bike bar”. A lot of bike messengers and hardcore bicyclists come here (or at least they used to before the marina invaded the mission *shakes fist at sky*). Since it is outdoors, the ground is comprised of gravel and dirt which one would think is common sense. This woman was complaining (I should note that she possessed the kind of voice that makes your ass tighten and you immediately strive to distance yourself from it) that 1. The rocks scuffed up her new designer shoes and 2. The guy who calls out the food orders “humiliated” her because she didn’t get up to get her food right away. I would understand how one could be confused over the protocol at Zeitgiest but she willingly admitted it wasn’t her first time there… There is even a sign saying they will throw your food away if you do not claim it. I promptly snorted in to my 3rd (maybe 4th) Chimay, and I think they noticed. Out of the corner of my eye I believe I saw a scowl and a roll of the eye. The cloud of rank perfume disappeared and I could breathe again. The grating voice ebbed away and the chorus of hella’s blissfully stopped. By this time my roommates had joined me and we conversed about far more important things like non-alcoholic beer…

I’m sure she is a nice person and I’m crummy for some what judging her but… how many hella’s can one take? Seriously? The WORST is when the word heka is substituted. *shudder* WHY NORTHERN CALIFORNIA, WHY?

That is all.

November 3, 2008

How Very Anticlimactic

Ok so a shit ton happened at my Halloween party but I'll rehash that in another post. I want to get these current introspections out before they're lost forever in the brier and bramble that is my brain.

A recent affair of mine ended with a half hug and a sheepish lament about how he wished I had come over the night before. I laughed and told him he had the option of texting me and I would have come over. He's moving away now and it's more than likely I won't see him anytime soon. It good that it ended because my head was getting a little fucked. Yet here I sit wishing for him to text me so we could see each other just one last time before he goes.


The beginning of this year I was dating a nice fellow and things just seemed to get worse from there. We broke up around April and I jumped to another lily pad but quickly realized it would never bloom. But I still stayed on it bobbing to the currents and occasionally sinking. Then an even prettier lily pad popped up and actually WANTED me to jump to it. But as soon as I did it moved and every time I finally got on the damn thing it would slip away again. I am so over the push pull game. I will be the first to admit it's a game that I sometimes instigate but now that I recognize that I do it, I shall cease. I am aware that there are many people that want to keep their options open... but fuck, I'd like to FOR ONCE be the better option instead of a diving board. But then again, how can I even suggest that when I don't even believe that I'm worth it. hrmmm perhaps I am beginning to realize I am.

Ugh, I shouldn't even be THINKING about this kinda stuff. I have so many other things in my life I need to focus on. I think a large part of me is looking for a connection to someone. I'm not that connected to my family and I have very few friends that I can bring myself to depend upon. I never want to be a burden so if something is bothering me I usually write it in my journal or just face it alone. Part of me is reaching out for someone who actually wants to reach back. UGH. I should just focus on writing my stories and my job but my mind always wonders as soon as an attractive man walks by. I, of course, would never approach anyone because I'm too much of a coward and even if they approached me I'd be so horrendously awkward that they'd probably cut the conversation short as soon as I sputter a response to hello.

I think I'm just trying to find another thing to focus on and occupy my time so I really don't have to consider what I want. Which sounds demented I know. It gets exhausting to reassure myself EVERYDAY that i am worth something, or to train myself not to care what other people think. I just want a quick fix of infatuation. But it will always fizzle due to the little storm cloud that forms over my head whenever I do become besotted. I begin over-analyzing everything I do hoping that I won't offend them or won't turn them off. It's pathetic really. I need to just fucking let go and not care. I need to stop opening conversations with self deprecating comments and instead focus the conversation outward. The biggest thing I have to remember is the next time a lily pad floats by, I must to refuse to jump on it until I know that I'm worth more than just a fuck.

October 31, 2008

A Random Memory

My fingertips trace your stories, trace your life. Nails pull a wandering mind back to the present with a sweet sharp sting. Lips fumble for silence while tongues challenge to evoke emotion. An indrawn breath leads to teeth on skin. I trace your bones and bite my lip as your eyes close.

Oh what a moment it was.

October 30, 2008

Sidenote About the Last Post (Enough)

* sidenote - it has been brought to my attention that people think this blog is solely about one person. This is not true. It is about multiple people. She (I will no longer name names as it makes this person uncomfortable) was a good friend for a very long time. She was there for me when no one else was. What happened between us recently was built up over a couple of months. Perhaps we'll work things out. I would like that, but if we don't I will lament a great loss but move on. She and supposedly multiple people think I over reacted. I don't believe this to be true. If someone tells you something directly about how your actions offend them/make them feel bad you would most likely immediately change them. Also to bring up something like a mental illness vs a messy lifestyle is completely low and biased. If you are living in someone else's space, respecting it shouldn't have to be asked. I will stand by my reaction and I will stand by my decision. If you believe I over-reacted then that's on you. You are not me. I have one place in the world where I feel safe. There is a certain way I'd like to keep it. If that is something that can not be handled then tough, it's MY space. Other people’s opinions are just that, opinions. You have not seen the whole thing and you are not me. You do not know what it feels like to have absolutely no place to feel safe. For what I'm going through mentally... it's a fucking miracle that I am stubborn. Most of you who read this will not understand how hard it is for me on a day to day basis (I am not looking for pity, this is a fact) because I hide it. I hide it very well and I know that. Suicide is something I think about more than once a day, rather something I used to think about, as my current medication has stabilized me. Most of you would NEVER think that. I am realizing that I am strong because people diagnosed with Bipolar have the highest suicide rate. I refuse to give in. I will not let this illness win. So as for this whole debacle, remember what you hear is one side of the story. I know she has her own and I respect that. I understand her confusion, but I do not agree with it. I am trying to put my life back together after completely losing who I am. I can not spend my time explaining to people that what they do hurts me multiple times. If a friend told me that what I do hurts them I would immediately refrain from doing it. I shouldn't have to raise my voice more than once in my own defense. If you do not understand that... that's unfortunate. Let me know and I won't exert anymore effort to try and explain it and we can go our separate ways.

October 27, 2008


I’ve always had trouble laying down boundaries. I’ve been tip toeing over everyone’s emotional cracks for so long I twirled my way into a corner while the ground underneath me splintered. I had no room for me. I allowed everyone else’s needs to get in the way of my own. My self confidence was so low I allowed the saddest of individuals to batter me around.

I have had enough.

I can say with aplomb that I am a good person. I am caring, I am giving, I am loyal, and I will try and be there for everyone. But I am tired of being taken advantage of. It takes A LOT to piss me off. Most of the time I am too lazy/laid back to stay angry at anyone. But recently a few people have backed me into a wall and the claws came out.


A simple thing, yes? I respect you, you respect me. But when I go out of my way for someone, when I defend a person, when I put their needs before mine (which won’t happen again, I assure you) a little respect in return is small thing to ask for. But it got thrown right in my face. I mean almost literally. I was so stunned I didn’t know how to react. Finally anger permeated my blank brain and for once I stood up for myself. This feeling has stayed. If you don’t treat me with respect and refuse to treat me like a friend or take advantage of me:

Fuck, you.

For real. I’m done. I give LOTS of chances because I understand how sometimes life just prevents you from making the greatest decisions. But if I talk to you and let you know that you are disrespecting me and you continue with that behavior, don’t let the door hit you on the ass on your way out. I don’t need that in my life and I refuse to accept that shit anymore. I am going through some serious issues and the last thing I need is a “friend” pushing me over the edge. My backbone is stronger and it’s staying that way. I am tired of feeling bad if I raise my voice in my own defense. I’m not turning into a bitch, I’m just standing up for myself. I know that my attitude will shock and unmask the people that have been using me for awhile when I say “enough, I’m done”. I deserve more. If I lose “friends” because of this, then clearly they weren’t friends to begin with. Friendship, like any relationship is give and take. It’s all about compromise, not take, take, take then see ya.

So peeps, be prepared to hear the word “enough” leave me lips on more than one occasion. Because I’m tired but mainly because I deserve more and I’m finally staking my claim in it.

October 9, 2008

The Enigmatic Confidence Returns and Ramblings of Sunsets

Self Confidence: “Ah.. hi!”


SC: “Uh... I had stuff to do?”

Me: “For a fucking week?!?!?”

SC: “Language, language!”

Me: refrains from attacking

SC: nervously coughs “Well, I'm um... back and I'm sorry.... miss me?”

Me: roars and attacks

Yeah, so the little lead ball of doom melted away and I'm back to my quirky self. I'm also back to thinking “Ah geez, I'm not bipolar, these are just little mood swings... who needs medication?” Then I re-read my posts and am like... “ohhhhhh K so I have issues.”

The land inside my head is a little weird. Sigh

While walking home tonight the sunset reminded me of one of my most favorite things: curled up in someones arms, my face buried in their neck, eyes closed breathing in their scent. The best is when they're asleep and when you snuggle up to them and they unconsciously move their head to touch yours and tighten their arms. That place is so safe and warm. It reminds me of sunsets. The feeling that expands and tingles down your arms and the secret smile that folds your cheek. The colors remind me of it too. That's what I see when I'm cuddling. Oranges, reds, purples, yellows that fade to blue. It's strange. As I write this, there is no sense of longing because those moments are so lovely that when they happen I'm grateful for it and don't dare to associate any ill feelings with them. Those moments are kept just under my skin for future need. Even if the relationship has withered or been soured by time, those moments I still treasure. Those moments just are, just as I long to just be . To just feel in the moment and not have some long standing emotion or mood in the way.

Since I rarely sleep for long periods of time, I always end up watching the men sharing my bed (don't let the use of men in the plural form let you think it's been a whole lot lol). When they sleep it's so strange. Their features are neutral and that's when you really see them and not an emotion. When we're awake we unconsciously wear what we feel on our face and when we sleep we just are. Just to clarify – I am not a creepazoid that watches people sleep constantly, I just glance because some how it seems too private to really stare. Though I do admit that I wish I could draw their faces. There was one in particular I wanted to capture because he looks so different when awake. When awake his brow is usually furrowed and a frown usually marred his features, but when he was asleep, he looked so peaceful. I hope one day he can find that peace outside of the land of the sandman.

Sleep is so strange. I find such solace in it and it's so foreign for me to fear sleep. I say this because a couple of good friends of mine have horrific nightmares almost every night. While my dreams are nonsensical terror rarely enters them. MMmmm sleep. I've actually been falling asleep lately without the help of the magical little yellow pill. That could be because I was depressed but scoff technicalities shmecnicalities. The good news is I'm back to feeling some what good. Lets hope this stays for a bit.... or forever really.... lol

September 30, 2008



Yes, this is no longer September, this is the month of Fucktember where everyone I know, including myself has been fucked over countless time. Lets start with my buddy Wes. First off he’s pretty much couch surfing. He does pay rent to live in a studio with another guy but is rarely there. He just lost his job and last night he was hit by a car. Yeah, awesome times. He’s ok btw…. at least as far as I know. Let’s move on to my buddy Heather. She moved to Portland a while back for a bartending job and found an awesome guy that she had to move in with because she didn’t have the money to pay rent because that awesome bartending job fired her within a month, so she lost her apartment but he now the awesome dude no longer wants to be with her. She came back to San Francisco and is currently living on my couch and last night all of her stuff was stolen from her boyfriend’s apartment. Ok now for my buddy Jaye. She moved out here mid august with the intention of moving in with me and getting her husband out here. Well, they’re getting a divorce and now she’s looking for a room and is currently living in my bed… with me. lol. So those are just some small fun examples of why September is officially Fucktember in my book.

I’ve also had a fair few of fuckups lately. But right now my mind is solely focused on the fact that I have a rx that’s being filled that could kill me. The chances are slim but I am still putting myself in the line of possible complications. And I want nothing more than to talk to someone that doesn’t exist: my mom.

I want to hear reassuring words and for her to say she’s proud of me for trying to get better. But that won’t happen. I’d like to hear my dad’s voice as well but I don’t know what to expect from him anymore. It would also be nice just to have a partner that was here to hold my hand. Cause I’m scared. Really, really scared. The what if’s are chasing me down and beating the shit out of me. I’m lucky to have the support system I do have but it would still be nice to go to bed with someone and just be able to cry on their shoulder and have them still love me even though I am fucking nuts. To not get scared away, to take my pushes as a challenge. But I know that I can’t have that right now. I need to learn about myself. I need to be responsible only for myself.

It’s just... hard.

September 16, 2008

A Story for You

Ok, now before you read this story, understand that yes, it is long, that yes I am aware it is riddled with grammatical errors and needs work but fuck it, I want to post it anyway. If you dare to read it in it's entirety, let me know what you think.

Tara Twyler was of the opinion that her freckles looked like water stains. She was convinced that they just weren’t vibrant enough to be considered an actual freckle. She usually covered them with a thick layer of Ivory foundation but this morning a severe deadline at work had her on the train a good two hours earlier than normal and in order to not pass out at her desk, she decided to forgo any unneeded prep time. She was examining herself in the window of the train and after scrutinizing her freckles and rolling her eyes at the copper mess that was her hair, she noticed her right eye seemed more defined than her left eye. It was then she realized she had only put mascara on that one eye. She tried to remember what else may have forgotten to do but the only thing that came up hazy was if she had put deodorant under both arms. She remembered swiping underneath her left arm but a stubbed toe caused her to just move on to the next thing so she could make the train. She supposed it was her body’s way of balancing everything out and she snorted out loud at the thought.

An old woman who was already white knuckling her purse glared up at Tara while attempting to inch her narrow body further away from the seemingly crazy snorting girl. Tara ignored the urge to snort again and rolled her eyes fully aware that the person the woman should have been inching away from she was actually moving towards and he was having a full on conversation with a spray painted rock who's name apparently was Betty. Tara smiled and buried her head in her arm while muttering “Only in this city.” She sighed, tightened her grip on the muni pole and began mentally preparing herself for another Monday of work. She hoped she wouldn't be the only one on her team to be at work early and desperately hoped that Adam wasn't coming in early. Even thinking of his name had her blushing and her mental processes stammering. She had pining over him for a good three months now ever since he transferred in from the main office but had yet to speak more than one sentence to him. She sighed when she imagined his curly blond hair and somewhat geeky demeanor.

Tara had tried to come up with some creative conversation starters but whenever she got within four feet of him a strange feeling would come over her. It was almost like something was battling for control inside her head. She grew to understand to be wary of this feeling because it usually warned of a humiliating experience ahead. You see, Tara had an “issue” with her emotional and logical parts of her brain. The cause of all her trouble was the fact that they just didn’t get along. In fact, they had been feuding for her cognitive functions since an unfortunate incident involving Tara’s 7th grade crush, an ice skating rink, and a trip to the ER. Tara's emotional side thought it would be romantic to skate up to her crush all cute like and grab his hand while Tara's logical side pointed out that Tara didn’t know how to skate. The fight for control of her actions started and resulted in Tara's body literally fighting against itself and when she hit the ice face first her emotional side refused to relinquish control so she clawed her way to the horrified boy still intending to grab his hand. By the time logic finally regained control Tara had managed to drag herself across the rink and had the sense to grab his skate and scream “Help me.”

Ever since then any date she had been on usually ended with her breathing into a paper bag or running to the bathroom in order to orally expel the dinner that had just been paid for. Needless to say her love life was nonexistent.

A sudden horrid screeching of brakes, the muffled sounds of curses and an elbow to her ribs snapped Tara back to the present. More people crowded into the already cramped space and a flash of blond set Tara's heart racing. She counted to ten and convinced herself that the chances of Adam actually being on this particular train car was one and million.

“Hey! Hey Tara!”

Tara felt the blood drain from her face and frantically tried to find a way to hide.

“Tara! Hey! Excuse me.”

Adam was fighting against the crowd in order to come talk to her and she was frozen in fear. From some where in the back of her head emotion's surprised voice echoed

“Holy fuck, he’s talking to her!”

And logic answered “Astute observation genius.”

“Hey! Oh! Sorry!”

The foot that Adam had unfortunately stepped on belonged to the crotchety old lady and she was now glaring at Tara with an accusatory look on her face. Tara fought back the urge to start laughing hysterically and turned to meet Adam.

“Uh, hi.”

“Good morning!”

Adam's enthusiasm had logic thinking the boy must have be on drugs in order to be so chipper at this hour. Emotion was too busy fawning over Adam's boyish charm to realize that logic had taken control and was now forcing Tara to speak.

“What drugs did you take to make you so hyper this morning?”

Tara's eye twitched as she realized this just wasn't going to end well. Adam threw back his head and laughed.

“I usually go rock climbing in the morning so I'm a bit hyper by the time I get on the train. That and I've had about 4 cups of coffee.”

Tara's emotion attacked logic in order to gain control of the situation and while they fought Tara was on her own so the first thing that popped into to her head shot out of her mouth.

“I would kill for a cup of coffee. I mean.. not like really kill someone. That's bad... I mean I can't even kill a bug. It's the crunch that gets me. Then I always wonder if it has like a mate waiting for it at home or something...”

Tara stopped her rambling when she noticed one of Adam's brows arch. An awkward silence ensued. Adam cleared his throat, ran his hands through his hair and adjusted his glasses

“Yeah so this deadline is rough.”

Emotion and logic were duking it out to see who go to govern the next response so Tara was stuck with whatever words decided to fly out of her mouth again.

“Usually I like it rough. I mean... not like that! I would never say that to anyone that's above me at work.. I mean not “above me” like physically but like in the hierarchy that is our job.. cause you're like my boss so you're above me. In that way. I meant I like steep deadlines because they push everyone to be more creative.”

Adam's bemused expression took on the softer overtones of amused and he smiled.

“I know what you mean!”

As soon as that statement left his mouth three voices chimed together in an astonished “You do?”

Logic and emotion were baffled. Tara was near hyperventilation and hanging on his every word.

He noticed her astonished expression and continued.

“Well yeah. I mean I'm so lazy so I never get anything done even though I have all the time in the world. But when someone puts pressure on me thats when I produce some of my best stuff.”

Tara was enthralled but logic needed some clarification. So to Tara's horror another question slide past her lips without her control.

“What do you mean work? You just manage us don't you?”

Tara slapped a hand to her mouth to try and prevent anything else from escaping. Adam furrowed his brow at her and laughed again.

“I'm also freelance graphic designer. It doesn't pay the bills so rely on my “management skills” to bring home the bacon, or in my case 3-d software.”

Tara's logic immediately jumped to the conclusion that since he did graphic design he must be a bit of a geek and immediately she launched into geek talk.

“Really? What operating system do you use? I'm a fan of Linux myself but was a bit miffed that Redhat became Fedora so I switched to Suse but then Ubuntu came out and I've been using that ever since.”

Adam's face was blank and emotion wretched the controls out of logics proverbial hands and was trying to think of something witty to bounce back with but Tara had clamped her jaw shut and while her vocal chords were trying to follow emotions command the only noise emitting from her was steady “gghhhhh” that had the back of Tara's teeth vibrating like tuning forks.

Adam bent down and pat Tara on the back.

“Are you ok?”

Tara answered through her clenched teeth. “Super.”

Emotion decided to press the over rule button and Tara's jaw dropped open and a jumbled mess of words fell out.

“asdfnkalsdnf alsndfksadnfkln.”

Tara could feel tears forming in the corner of her eyes. She silently began pleading with what ever deity that popped into her head to please make this stop.

Now emotion and logic weren't alone in Tara's head but no one had interfered before but someone had had enough.

“OK! You two need to stop fighting and play nice because the cognitive functions are all spastic because they trying to keep the girl from wetting herself and throwing up at the same time. The poor girl is sputtering worse than a volkswagon Rabbit in a snowstorm so just let HER take control of her own damn actions and words otherwise you'll be visiting the colon for a very, very long time.

Logic and emotion had the sense to look perfectly placated and removed their hand from Tara's mental controls. They both took a step back and with their heads down they acknowledged their defeat. “Yes Mrs’ Common Sense.”

“Honestly, and the nether regions wonder why they’ve been so lonely lately.” Mrs Common sense marched up to mission control and switched it on to auto pilot.

“Do not make me come back over here!” With that Mrs. Common sense left mission control with random words trickling behind her as she marched down the hall and soon the only words left reverberating were “dumb” and “shits”.

Now that Tara had finally gained control of what she said she was handling herself just fine. Some of her responses were still more than a little spastic, but that was just Tara. Adam happened to like quirks so the next words out of his mouth nearly floored her.

“Do you want to get breakfast?”

Logic and emotions looked at each other, then looked at the control panel, then looked back at each other. Before either of them could dive in and take command Tara's voice rang through the air.

“I'd love to!”

Emotion and logic were stunned. She had never before answered with such ease and honesty. They sat down in defeat. Perhaps she really didn't need one or the other to control her so they both accepted their future duties would probably only involve a lot of advising..

Logic offered his white flag first. “Truce?”

Emotion got teary eyed and agreed. “Truce.”

As Tara and Adam got off downtown emotion couldn't help but notice how cute they were together.

“Say, logic, wouldn't it be quite if she grabbed his ha...”

“Don't even THINK about it!”


September 9, 2008

Smatterings of Self Absorbed Musings

So, as I stated once before I’d like this blog to be more about my external life than my mental. If you’ve read any of my entries you can pretty much roll your eyes at that statement.


Apparently I’m pretty self absorbed like most people that write a blog self absorbed. NOW WAIT! Before you freak out about that statement lets look up what the definition of self absorption is shall we? Lets go on an information adventure!!

A adjective
1 self-absorbed, self-involved
absorbed in your own interests or thoughts etc

There, see?! It’s not a NEGATIVE term. It just means that I find my mental vomit amusing and hell, if you’re reading this, so do you…. cue Mister T’s “I pity the fool”.

HA!! *ducks smack for self deprecation comment*

I knoowwwwwwwww that I hide behind humor. Duh. It’s my coping mechanism, my defense mechanism and the key to my heart BUT I also know that sometimes it’s not so good. So, anyway on to the existential point of this post.

Look at a leaf. Any leaf. A maple leaf, an oak leaf. Any leaf from any where. Concentrate on the colors. At first glance you may think it’s just green like any other leaf but look CLOSER. You’ll find some yellow swirled in there or perhaps some orange.

Now, look at your skin. Look at the colors and the veins blended together to create your unique shade.

Dude, how can we NOT be self absorbed? Humans are fucking amazing. We created society, we’ve created arguments about how *we* created society. We’ve created Gods, Goddesses, worlds even. Yet whenever someone uses the term “self absorbed” we cringe and immediately try and focus on something external to prove that we can think about something other than ourselves.

Here’s my conundrum.


If you’re thinking about yourself or pondering how YOU think things through I really don’t think that’s a bad thing.

NOOOOOOW WAIT A SECOND. I’m not saying that constantly thinking about yourself is a good thing. Hell I know it’s a bad thing. That’s part of how I’ve crippled myself. I finally understand the term self conscious. I thought I did before but I really didn’t. I am so self conscious I am self absorbed. I am constantly thinking about how I am perceived. I am putting thoughts in other peoples heads. I am thinking of myself all. the. time.

Or, at least I *was*.

I’m getting better at smacking down that insolent voice that’s all snarky from the dark recesses of my brain cutting me down and making me sputter back comments while frantically trying to see if anything is wrong with me. Why does anyone cut themselves down? There are enough fucktards in the world that relish doing it for you.

Anyway - I believe that if you are trying to figure out how your brain works you deserve a pat on the back and a treat of some kind. You are doing something that not many people stop to do. Once you figure out how you work, you can start the fun task of thinking about how other people work. Now THERE’S a fascinating subject that will never, ever be explained.

“Other People”.

The only person we can ever truly know is ourselves sooooo peeps, I say lets listen to Apollo’s Oracle and start getting to know ourselves. I mean, technically we’re only following our own advice, yeah? And how old is this advice?

Let’s get crackalacking. WOO WOO.

Yes, I am aware the sense is lacking here in this smattering of words but hell, who knows maybe there is sense here, just not the kind you’re used to using….



lol ;)

August 13, 2008

Invest In Steel Toed Boots

I wish I could just plug my brain into the computer and my thoughts would stream out nice and neatly into the form of a post because it would make far more sense. I’ve written about 6 blogs that I haven’t posted because they’re all… depressing and I don’t want to depress anyone that reads this.


I am supposed to be writing this for me. This is kind of a “me” thing. But I share it in the sense that what I write is what I think and I’d like to share that with people because I may offer different view points OR my psychobabble could just be endlessly amusing. Either or at least I get it OUT of my head. I’m beginning to think of my brain as a swamp. Stuff gets stuck there and rots while thoughts become stagnate.

Honestly, I’m tired. So very tired of looking to other people to try and figure myself out. I shouldn’t be doing this, but I do. I envy hipsters and their lack of responsibility, I envy people that can sing freely, I envy people with style, I envy people who can just BE. I constantly compare myself to others in EVERY aspect of my life and I’m not really sure why. Perhaps it was because there is so much I was never taught via my parents. Maybe I’m just scared. I don’t want to stick out but I don’t want to blend in. I just want to be me and be ok with that. I want to figure out what I want and just fucking DO that. I want to find the elusive median so I stop bending over backwards for people that don’t deserve it and I want to make sure that I will always be up for compromise for the people that ARE worth it. So here are a few things I know that I want in no particular order:

- To get these jewelry ideas out. Create them, sell them, wear them, whatever - just get them out of my head. (Take a class in metal working)

- Sit down and write out the stories in my head and try typing them out from scratch to see which method works best for me.

- Write and sing the songs that I make up.

- Learn how to use GIMP and edit some photos and create things.

- Get a tripod and a better camera to take pictures with.

- Draw the faces I find fascinating.

- Travel across the US and Europe.

- Sing Karaoke with no fear. It’s just a song and it’s in fun, I need to get over it.

- Go shopping for more clothes and shoes that I will actually wear and get rid of EVERYTHING I don’t wear.

- Join the YMCA and take belly dancing classes and kick boxing.

- Get started on my tattoo.

- Read more nonfiction books.

- Go camping.

- Make sure and take 2 days out of the week that are just for me.

- Trust someone when they say “I love you.”

- Let someone in and be ok with the fact that I may get hurt.

- Make my own clothes.

- Pay attention at work OR find a job I some what enjoy.

- To stop settling.

- Tell people how I really feel. If they hurt me, tell them, don’t just swallow it and smile.

- Stop worrying about other people. It’s their life; I can’t make their decisions for them.

- To forgive my parents.

- To be ok with the fact that everything changes and not dwell on the shoulda, woulda and couldas.

- Buy a pair of “fuck me” shoes and ROCK them.

- To be a better friend.

- To learn when to shut. the. fuck. up.

- Stop interrupting people or assume what they’re going to say.

- Finish school.

- To understand that mistakes are good (aka when I play my guitar JUST KEEPING PLAYING DON’T STOP WHEN I FUCK UP)

- Change my laugh just a little bit because good god when it echoes it’s embarrassing.

- Accept the fact that I am spastic and awkward and that’s what makes me, me.

- To really believe that I am pretty cool and some what attractive.

- To be all romantic and mushy and kiss someone in the rain.

- To stop repeating myself and REMEMBER good tidbits I pick up or things I realize.

A strange list, but at least it’s a list so I can’t get all exasperated and bitchy and claim I don’t know what I want. Most of the time I know what I want, but I just don’t say it because I don’t want to tread on toes so I swallow it and train myself to forget or convince myself that it wasn’t really what I wanted anyway.

Fuck it; people can wear steel toed boots.

I won’t be a bitch and push what I want on other people cause I just don’t do that. But I have to train myself to believe that it’s ok to stand up for what I want, because who else will? No one else can get in my head and know so fuck, it’s all on me.

Le backbone. I grows it. And peace, I'll find it.

July 22, 2008


Okedokey, so my whole life I have been waited to be told what to do. Meaning I need instructions for everything or someone else's opinion. I'm sporadic yes, BUT I don't usually jump unless I know for sure that I'll be landing some what safely. The only exception to that is when I moved to San Francisco and everything went to shit. I had no idea what the future held or if I would make it but damn it, I tried and here I am. ANYWAY I'm not quite sure the reasons behind this whole instruction obsession, but I'm sure it can be attributed to something from my childhood and blahity blah but right now the cause isn't what concerns me, instead I'm concerned with the fact that I apparently need instructions for EVERYTHING in my life. How to dress, how to act, how to eat, how to BE.

Lame, lame and more lame.

I have always been extremely uncomfortable around people that were completely confidant in who they were. The people who dressed/acted how ever they wanted to. For example the people that just dress in clothes they like to it because THEY like it. It's that simple to them. They shop and pick out the clothes they want to wear not because a model wore them or an ad convinced them they'd be sexier with it but because they just liked that particular shirt. I've always been on the tail end of trends. When I had more confidence I would dress according to my mood. Sometimes this meant I would be covered in bright colors and kooky accessories, sometimes I would wear all black. Now I feel self conscious because i don't have a defined style. I'm not like the cute hipster girls in their 60's dresses and perfect hair. I am not rail thin and my hip bones don't protrude from 'neath my jeans. I mean hell, I'm uncomfortable looking in the mirror. Yes, you can laugh at the absurdity of that. One of my best friends came to visit me and when she bounded into my closet, expecting my crazy colors and weird dresses she froze, turned to me horrified shouting “Heather, where are all your colors?”. I just gave a watery smile and fell deeper in to my self built shell. My shell has become so constrictive that I feel like I'm going mad because I am so skittish and anxious all the time and questioning EVERYTHING because I feel that I need someone else to tell me what to do. A trend is something that is popular NOT a garment that's holding a gun to your head screaming "WEAR ME OR DIE!!!!". Why oh why do I care? They're fucking clothes.

I also feel bad for other people. I put myself in their shoes especially if they're unknowingly being made fun of but... I need to realize that THEY put THEMSELVES in that situation. If they're uncomfortable THEY should walk away, not me.

Another thing I realized, going to school is to HONE your talents and interests, it's not to give you a rigid set of rules to follow. For example I love taking photos and when one of my friends was looking through them he commented that I was “quite the photographer”. I immediately corrected him and assured him that I am not a photographer, I've never gone to school for it. He looked at me funny and asked what school had to do with it. I just said thats where you learn to be a photographer. He arched his brow and said, “Well you take photos don't you? Some of the greatest photographers never went to school for it, they just did it. So you're a photographer.” The first part of the definition of a photographer is: a person who takes photographs. It adds especially one who practices it professionally BUT it's not just defined as someone who does it professionally. Going to school for photography adds on to whats already there: a desire to take a photo. Thats the basis of it isn't it? To share what you see. To capture an image, to bring attention to something that's there or even something that isn't. School provides the tools you need to better your skill and to develop your own style but it doesn't provide the desire or the passion for it. It doesn't guarantee that you will be a photographer. Thats all up to you.

Another thing - I am terrified to sing in front of people. And I mean true terror. The kind that closes your airways. Why? I am so terrified that someone will tell me I have a terrible voice but thats their opinion, that doesn't mean I do actually sing terribly. For example Conor Oberst's voice makes me want to destroy the speaker it's coming from BUT to some people he's amazing. Why am I letting SOMEONE ELSE'S opinion stop me from singing? Why does it matter? They can walk away. But then there are those that just have to tear you down. They want to watch you break, see the joy and confidence flee from your eyes. Usually it's because they're secretly envious. You had the courage to go up and sing and show strangers a very private part of yourself. I have decided that unless this person has a knife/gun, I am going to try and hug them. Why not? They clearly need it and hell maybe I'll scare them away or make them smile.

The only time I am physically comfortable is when I dance. I love to dance. I just listen to the music and move. I don't give a flying fuck what anyone thinks of me then because at one time or another we will ALL look like we’re having some type of flashing-light-induced seizure. And it is actually fun to dance like a spaz because if you're with friends you're all laughing, if you're alone people will clear space for you. It's a win win situation.

I am way too nice. Really. I apologize to people that RUN INTO ME. Seriously. I will not stand up for myself BUT if you threaten someone I love I'll be there with a spiked baseball bat asking you to repeat yourself. Why wouldn't I do that for myself? If I feel that I'm not worth standing up for, who will? I'm afraid that if I do stand up for myself someone will think that I'm a bitch buuuuut if I'm standing up for myself, doesn't that mean someone is trying to push me down? I don't want to go to the extreme and end up one of those gals that acts like she has a diamond studded stick shoved up her ass. And my thought process is this – if I'm aware of the fact that I am pushing back only because I was pushed to begin with I'm not being a bitch. And if I am called one, it's because the person doesn't want resistance. Well to that I say


I love to write. I adore stories. I honestly live for them. I've been invited to read some of my work and I am terrified that I will get up there and people will just hate every word I read. But part of me hopes that maybe I'll get some laughs maybe someone will enjoy what I have to say. But, this is like the whole voice thing, everyone has a different opinion and loves a different writing style. I know that not everyone will like it. But I have to remember that not everyone will hate it. Even if it's just ONE PERSON.

Now, this could be a manic episode BUT because I'm not calling everyone I know claiming I just had a life changing epiphany I'm hoping this is just my brain clicking and being all “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I get it, I get it” and my poor bruised, battered and dejected self confidence is all “FINALLY FUCKER! WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?!?!” I need to keep these thoughts. I will keep these thoughts.

There are no instructions for life. So what the fuck am I waiting for?

Also, ahem yes, I am aware that more than one person has told me these things. I am aware that I've SAID them before BUT now they're in writing. I sat down and forced my fingers to commit the letters together and forced my brain to read them. I'm thinking this will help them stick. Also I'm kind of posting it as a “this is how I was, now watch what I'll be, but keep your negativity outta my face otherwise you'll get a jellyfish thrown at your face”.

The ocean is just a short train ride away people, I'll get a net and everything.

I need to live for me. I want to share what I see and think but I need to remember that I need to do it FOR me. Not for anyone else. It's what I WANT. It's me. So if some one doesn't like it, I don't really care, I'm not doing it for them. I'm doing it FOR ME!

So, once more, with feeling! (No I've never seen that entire Buffy episode because musicals make me uncomfortable... )


July 16, 2008

Beware of my Shards Of Hate

Yes, I am aware that I am slacking hardcore on my goal, but so far 25 is the year of the stupid injuries. As I type this, two of my fingers are taped together because I may have fractured one (my pinky) or torn a ligament…


I am crabby due to pain pills which I DESPISE taking. In my opinion, whatever is hurting should be fixed, they shouldn’t hand out something that will cover it up because that feeling is there for a reason - something is wrong. It’s only IB Profin (but one pill is 800mg) and I also got vicodin. I have not taken one yet nor do I plan to unless a limb falls off. I hate pain pills. I HHHHAAAAAAAAAAAATEEEEEEEEE them. I hate how my doctor just handed me an rx for it and sent me on my way. I want to be fixed thankyouverymuch not stupefied.


I ache to write a happy post. I've constructed some in my head but every time I go to sit down and write it I become distracted and end up watching realllllly shitty movies on youtube.


Ohhhhhh man do I have a bevy of irrational anger right now. Mostly at myself, but bits and pieces can be thrown at people. OMG wouldn’t that be awesome?!? That when you’re angry, you can take the anger out of your head and THROW it at people. Omfg that would RULE. The would be like little glass shards so that when you hear that disgruntled yelp of pain you can smile? That’s not sadistic at all.



I want to curl up and sleep with out waking up with a muffled scream because my arm is throbbing. LAME LAME LAME. 25 IS FUCKING LAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMME.

lol and that little voice that says “it could always be worse” just tried to pop up but I think the anger in me just punched it in the face…. ahhh well.

Also, I think I would like a hug.

The end.

HA I LIED! Instead, this sums up how I feel right now.

This was done by the lovely Nataliedee. She is rad times a bazillion. Even cooler than your mom. THATS how awesome she is.

Carry on.

June 26, 2008

That Damn R.E.M. Song May Be Correct

So we've had a fuckton of fires here in California, terrible tornadoes across the Midwest, and fantastical flooding in my hometown. My sister sent some pics of Fort Atkinson, WI, which is about 40mins away from my hometown of Mukwonago.

Ok so see that little white bridge? Yeah usually it's about 10 (at least) feet ABOVE the water.

Those are BALCONIES ON THE SECOND FLOOR that the water is up to.

This is the view from about a block away from my sister's house. You can NEVER see the river from her house because the banks are so high. It usually just looks like the end of the street drops off into oblivion. Even when we had all that flooding a couple of years ago it wasn't this bad.

To say I'm concerned would be an understatement. Mother nature is pissed and personally I think she has every right to be. It's just unfortunate that so many people have to endure the wrath of thousands of years of not caring how we fuck up the ecosystem. I just wonder how the rest of this year is going to go...

June 24, 2008


So far 25 hasn't started too well. I've almost gotten hit by a car while riding my bike, I think I may have broken a bone in my hand and last night a sickening crunch of cartilage indicated I had damaged my nose. AGAIN! My party was... interesting to say the least lol. I know I fell short of my 3 blog a week goal last week but damn it, it was my birthday. So HA. Plus I haven't really felt like any of my thoughts are worth writing down lately. I'm kinda bobbing along. Tonight I am going to chill and enjoy some much needed "me" time and hopefully gather my thoughts.

Here is a pic that is stuck in my head right now:

With so many doorways and paths, how are we to choose which is the one that will make us happy?


Questions, questions and yet I'm the only one that can answer them.

June 19, 2008

Where's My Walker?

lol! No, no, I'm not one of those people will freak out because they turned 25. If you couldn't already tell I never really need a reason to freak out I just do cause I'm suave like that. I don't feel old or anything like that. I do kinda wish I had my degree already or maybe my own apartment, or maybe owned a car or even a plant ...but this just means I get to have more goals. GO ME! So yeah. Hrmmm updates, updates. The text message debacle has been cleared up... kinda. lol. I love how the older I get, the more high school drama my life becomes. I didn't date in high school or really experience any of the drama that usually takes places in that time frame until after I already graduated. So here I am, 25 and terrfied of admiting my feelings.


Yesterday I had to go to the courthouse to report for Jury Duty. Can I just say hangover + Jury Duty = BAD DECISION. Not as bad as flying with a hangover, but close. I will admit that as bad as flying with a hangover is, it helps me get over my fear of flying because whenever there's turbulance I kinda hope that we will crash to the ground so that the person that is letting their child run all over the fucking plane can EXPLODE IN A BALL OF CRIMSON GLORY. But thats just me. Also, crimson glory would be a wonderful name for the period.

If that made you squirmy you need to grow up.


Also, since it's my birthday come join me at my magic picnic table!! WOO WOO

June 13, 2008

Thou Shalt Not Drunk While Text

Yeah. We’ve allllll done it. You’re drinking in a bar with your friends and you start thinking about someone and you get this urge to text that someone. Maybe you’re horny, maybe you miss a friend, maybe your being over analytical and should put the fucking phone down. But do you? No, no, no. You keep on texting them and digging a hole that will eventually lead to China.

I have thought up an idea that will make MILLIONS. Bars should buy dozens of little spider monkeys and train them to steal people’s phones if they start texting people. The monkeys would then deliver them to the bartender or a designated monkey person and you would have to explain who you’re texting and why and if it’s something that will lead you to flog yourself the next morning the person can just call you a cab and you pick up your phone the next day. Yeah so basically I want to hold someone else responsible. I take it back; this is a bad plan…


If you couldn’t already tell I took it upon myself to add drama and discord to my already convoluted life. My foot is so far in my mouth, it’s coming out my ass. UGH!!! So there is this dude I am… seeing (?) and because of that question mark I decided to say that I wanted to end it because I was beginning to like him too much. DUMB DUMB DUMB. First of all doing it in a text is BEYOND lame. Second, now he knows that I really like him and I am now vulnerable. Thirdly I should have just TALKED to him. I, of course, sent a text backtracking this morning and I even called myself out on the backtracking but… GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. Holy shit, I just discovered a method of time traveling. It’s called alcohol and I mentally put myself back to high school. Gooooo me!

The logical voice in my head is sitting back with its arms crossed and shaking its head while the illogical voice is all “What?”

Well, one more blog and I reach my goal for the week… that’s good, right?


Meh. I know, it could be worse...

June 12, 2008


Uh… hi Blog! I apologize for neglecting you… once again… but come on; with my track record is that really such a surprise?


So life. It’s a crazy experience that I’m analyzing away which is beyond the realm of acceptable. So I have decided to make a goal and attempt to keep it, which for any of those that know me- STOP LAUGHING. I am going to write in here at LEAST three times a week. That allows four days to slack so that should be enough for my hebetudinous ass (yes, that is a word I recently discovered and am damn proud to use. GO VOCABULARY).

I’ve always fancied myself a composer of stories. Not so much a writer as my literary mechanics can make the sturdiest of English teachers recoil in disgust. Mainly because I almost NEVER proof my work before I hand it in or deem it done. This is a skill I am s-l-o-w-l-y acquiring. To say I am impatient wouldn’t be quite right, but close. I need to get my idea/thoughts out immediately otherwise it recedes back in to the chaos that is my subconscious which is beyond infuriating. When I re-read it I end up editing it into a completely different story/subject. The same happens when I am trying to speak so I interrupt or change the subject which can be just a wee bit irritating to those I engage in conversation. It is a trait I am trying to eradicate, I assure you. But due to my forced lack of filter (aka thinking before I speak) it makes things a bit more complex. As mentioned earlier, I over analyze EVERYTHING but the subject in which I am constantly scrutinizing is myself. This leads to completely illogical problems and insecurities. When I try and ponder what I want to add to a verbal soiree my brain promptly trucks it to Alabama and fucks a pig.

No, really.

Any interesting fact or tidbit I want to contribute is immediately slapped down and I begin to dry heave words and phrases that really, really should have never left my mouth. It gets far, far worse when I am around a person I find attractive. Be it male or female, if I admire them my verbal skills dwindle down to the point where I utter “I get bloody noses”. No lie. That’s one of the first things I said to my ex.

Charming, no?

So I usually to attempt to put my analytical butcher aside and just own my awkwardness. Yeah I talk to trees and hate the noise rubber duckies make because they sound sad to me. Yes, I know a little bit about a lot of things but I find it hard to retain any in-depth knowledge of a subject I have studied at length. Yes I will probably interrupt you but I promise I will recognize that I did and try my damnedest to only do it once. Yes, candy bars are an appropriate way to start the day. On that note, yes I will eventually join the YMCA and stop bitching about my flabby ass. But, anyway, back to the interrupting portion of this nonsensical post. I am striving to stop this because I want people to know that listen. I really do. I love hearing people talk about where they come from or experiences they’ve… experienced (shhh I’m too lazy to use a thesaurus right now). They’re stories and that’s what I live for. Everyone and everything has a story and I’d love to know them all. I can’t promise I will remember them but I’d still like to hear them.

So, yeah. Three times a week of my mental vomit and fanatical musings. I can TASTE your eagerness. Also, I want to put a picture up I’ve taken in at least one of the posts because damn it I’m becoming proud of my pictures. I don’t alter them in photoshop or gimp but that’s something I am interested in learning. Once I karate chop my ass to inspire some motivation. Oh how I loathe the sloth in me. But HA HA! I shall slowly back the laziness out my ear this year for I shall be quarter of a century old soon and I’d like to be able to at least say OMG I COMPLETED A GOAL, ISN’T THAT AWESOME!


I took this when I was in Santa Cruz। I love the colors and I love sunsets sooooooooo BADDA BOOM BADA BANG. There you have it.

April 28, 2008


I think some indie bands are a sick twisted joke. The skinny malnourished boys croon about how lonely they are while eying the crowd for their next groupie. Then there’s always that naive girl that feels like the lyrics are talking to her, talking about her and she believes in fairy tales and happily ever after’s. She stumbles towards the stage, awe in her eyes with an open heart and the band’s eyes overlook her in search of the girls that act disinterested.

I just don’t get it. I have guy friends that also complain about how lonely they are, but when they get with a girl that actually shows interest, they freak out. WTF. You wanted someone…. you get someone and then you freak out. BUT, BUT if a girl act disinterested she’s a fucking goddess.


Apparently, in this city, if you want someone, treat them like shit and they come panting back for more. How fucked in the head are people?

Humans are fucking WEIRD. Basically, as we grow up we're taught to be self reliant and all that shizzy yet there’s always that hint of “Oh you’ll find someone to spend your life with”. I just can’t deal anymore. It’s just bullshit. Who CARES if you find someone? Shouldn’t it be about your experiences in life seeing as how… it’s your life? I’m so tired of people bitching about how they’re lonely. I’m also tired of boys that build you up only to find that they just don’t have it in them to love.

Rad. Awesome. Then just tell me its sex and I’m good. Really. Why go on and on about how much you like a person and all that bullshit only to be emotionally unavailable? It’s such a waste of effort and time. If you’re just in to sex, awesome, I know where I stand.

No, this has not happened to me RECENTLY but it has happened to me. But a couple of dear friends have been jerked around enough to piss me off.

People can’t just be honest. I don’t get it. If you don’t like the person, FUCKING TELL THEM. If you do, then let them know.

But then again the boys that are usually jerks now became so due to a high maintenance cunt that cut off their balls and wore them in a jar around their skinny little neck. It turns into a vicious cycle of “I got fucked so I’m going to fuck someone over”. Yeah. Awesome logic.

It’s like cheating. If you don’t like the person that you’re with, break up with them. It’s that easy. Really. Just stop and think about it. If you’re tired of fucking the same person, let them know. It’s better then lying. I promise the pain of being dumped is so much easier to deal with then lies.

Ah rants. I’m just baffled at the lack of care people have while dealing with others. I’m also tired of the “lists”.


“My perfect significant other is this tall, and this skinny, and has this color hair and blahity fucking blah”

Really? You’re really going to be that specific because all those physical requirements are that important. Really? You couldn’t love a girl that has blue eyes and blond hair? Really? Eye color is that important?

What about just TALKING to someone? Yes, I understand that there are certain physical attributes that a person may find attractive, but it is so hard to go outside of them?

*shakes fist*

I just don’t get it unfortunately. Perhaps I’ve become too jaded. Right now I view love as an experience I want nothing to do with. I hate being vulnerable. I hate it. I don’t know if I have it in me to open up like that. I’m not saying I’ll never fall in love again, that’s just silly. It’s just… while I help glue everyone’s heart back together mine becomes more hardened and reluctant to ever be seen without armor. I’ve seen so many battle wounds that I don’t remember what the reward was. Someone to cuddle with? Someone to laugh with? I can do that with my friends.

What was the point of loving again?

February 14, 2008

Murder and Chocolate Hearts

Um wow. Soooo. A lot has changed since that last post. Too much too really update but I can try and sum up.

1. I stopped living inside my head.

2. I stopped constantly fretting about what people thought of me.

3. I got married, had 50 kids and started a baby farm where a genetic cow fought it’s way past my security system to plant a stick of dynamite in my oven so the farm blew up and when it did I discovered oil and am now a bazillionire.

HA! Lies. Well just that last one. But I do admit that I super suck for once again not updating a blog. BUT my few and probably not real readers, I have been posting blogs some where else. Some where else called myspace.

Don’t judge me. People actually comment there. SO HA!


Now I have always scoffed at this day because it’s based on a horribly over-dramatized story of a martyred catholic priest and I never could find the connection between murder and chocolate hearts. Well, I take that back. If you take away my chocolate, you could find yourself in a hole someone where, obeying my command of putting some lotion in a basket due to a threat of a hose. BUT really, I know the holiday is a sham and turns couples into this overly mushy, obnoxious plague to be avoided at all cost and sends single people into a spiral of doom and running towards the nearest bar. But, for once, I do not belong in either of these categories. Yes, I have a Valentine.

Absorb what typed there please, because it’s taking me a while as well.

Me. Spastic Sally. Has. A. Valentine.

Now this is a new thing so I don’t know if we’re a “we” (ha! irony we’re a we…ok nevermind) in a relationship sense but we’re not horribly mushy and while I’m big on chocolate, I rather DECREASE the size of my ass so none shall be given. Flowers are pretty buy I’ve never been a big fan of killing things because I still carry the guilt of killing my little bamboo plant (shhhhhhhhh I know it’s hard to kill bamboo but not all of us are gifted with a green thumb sooo stfu!) so I’d rather not watch something else wither and die. I also love trees and refuse to contribute to something as absurd as a card when I can just send an e-card for free.

But this whole fellow thing is quite new to me. I wasn’t looking for anyone. Honestly. It wasn’t that I had given up, I just stopped caring. That is in bold because I swear on all the chocolate hearts in the world that the SECOND you stop caring you send of this vibe to the opposite sex (or same sex, whatever your flavor) and their heads perk up, their eyes zoom in on you and some even may begin to fondle their genitals.

Hey, I ‘m just being honest.


Yeah. Life. A strange a peculiar journey I am beginning to love more and more. The twists and turns sometimes leave me spinning, but quite honestly, I love it. How can you enjoy the sweet with out the bitter? A good cry is awfully therapeutic and laughing until you wet yourself is always a good story to open with when meeting someone new.

Or that could just be me.

But I am happy. SO HA! DOUBLE HA! TRIPLE HA! I’ve never been in this situation. Sure I’ve dated before and been in a long-term relationshit but… I’ve never been with someone who was this thoughtful. I’ve actually poked him quite hard in the chest which prompted a baffled grunt and a raised eyebrow. I just smiled but I was secretly thinking

“You just can’t be real so if you’re a delusion I’d rather stay lost in my mind cause this rules.”

Who ever said romance was dead? But yeah, to all you bitter betty’s and mushy molly’s: I do hope that you have a good day and revel in our cultures ability to turn murder into romance. Just look at Romeo and Juliet. If you think that story is romantic I will bitchslap the SHIT out of you. If you need to ask why…

Please, please re-read it and THINK about it. Well, this certainly isn’t my favorite post but hell, it’s something. If you want to read one about my boobs vs a book read my myspace one. It may make you laugh.

That is all. Carry on!