White Noise

Fuck it, I love you.

2012-01-27T10:06:00.002-05:00

All these lives

I love where I live. I love you fucked up assholes who are my neighbors. Fuck you, I love you.

Things I want:

a porcelain claw foot tub
wood floors 4eva
a window seat
a willow tree with a wooden swing

Darling, you are like no one I know. I wish to take you away from this place where everyone knows us and spend 3 months alone with you in a place without iPhones, without computers, without television, and lay on a patchwork quilt, the warmth of a lit fireplace washing over our feet as one-by-one we reveal all our secrets and fears and every irrelevant dumb story that somehow naturally weaves its way into serious conversation. We will pretend we are the only people who exist, the only people we've ever known.

...and I want to say that by the end none of it ever mattered and it was like a Vietnamese vacation that oh 'so changed your life' but you live it the same two days after as you did two days before, but I cannot write. I cannot write because I guess I just don't fucking want to. Either that or I'm so goddamn nervous about time and I can't write something good in such a short amount of time I have to eat before work even though I'm not hungry.

So this must wait another day. On that day I will feel just as anxious no matter how much time I have because I'm 25 years old and live in New York City and am supposed to be 'living my life' which means going out and 'taking advantage of what the city has to offer' you bitch. DUH.

Rationale

2012-01-25T16:09:00.002-05:00

Rationalizing is something I've become accustomed to doing, constantly. Well, it's because of X and Y, and if A wasn't B, then Y would be impossible and X irrelevant. I must be convinced that nothing is as it seems, because I've become seemingly incapable of taking anything at face value. And sometimes things are exactly how they look. Exactly how they feel. Sometimes love is just love and not lust or temptation or boredom.

I don't understand what you tell me. I don't understand this concept. How? How? Maybe I don't feel the same. Maybe the Greeks had it wrong. Maybe there are more types of love than all the revered ancient philosophers could ever imagine, sitting sitting writing. I might love you like a Summer's Day, and you might love me like a Love Song, Baby.

I'm good where I am
I am good where I am
but my God, where I am
oh my God where I am

You have to be careful, though, because there are some things you grow to old for. And by the time you're too old for them all you do is wish you had done them while you had the chance, but maybe if you had, you'd instead be spending that time reclining on your beachfront porch barefoot pleased with yourself for all you didn't do.

The Right Thing

2012-01-24T09:10:00.002-05:00

Today, I'm going to start by taking it back and end by moving forward. And hopefully I'll stop talking in clichés and motivational phrases. But who knows. Maybe I won't.

I would like to say I want to remember who I was, if ever I was anyone, but I was always terrible. I used to tell myself I know I'm a good person despite everything, but I feel that every chance I've had to make the wrong decision and do bad, I have. How could I have ever thought I was good?

There are things I might not be able to change, but this is one I think I can. I've never tried. I am selfish and I hurt people, and everyone is not a joke. Everyone has feelings and the only people who deserve them hurt are the ones who do the same to others without remorse.

I tried to excuse myself the other day and say, I wasn't ready, I didn't know. Maybe that's how it works, though. I wouldn't know, but I have to figure it out.

oh i see now it's just smoke

The Good Ol' Days

2012-01-19T02:48:00.002-05:00

Now that I believe I definitely qualify as an adult, there are some things I'd like to say of my younger years. Of course there are a lot of things I miss about being younger. And I could say, like everyone else, I only wish I could go back, and sometimes I do I fucking do, but I think there are things I can do to make my adult life satisfying. You've got to leave certain things, behaviors in the past. At once, though, they were wonderful.

Forgive me for posting anything Kings of Leon...but I saw this video and think it is really nice. When things were new and fun and everything was bad and hurt so good.

A Waste of Time

2012-01-13T03:49:00.002-05:00

He said 'don't waste my time' 'you better not be wasting my time' and she swore it wasn't, that she wouldn't because how the fuck will you know if you never let the thing off the ground?

And how is anything supposed to get off the ground if you don't give it time? How do you expect it to fly if instead of giving it time you push it off a cliff and hope for the best? Blind faith is at once pedestrian and beautiful. Believing in something without having to know every dirty detail simply because it touches you has a vulnerable power found nowhere else. Like maybe, but I don't care about all that, I still love her.

Give me a chance, a second chance. This is no game of chance, darling, and certainly not of second chance for no such thing exists and if it did I would not play for that is STUPID AS ARE YOU

Motherfuckers

2012-01-11T22:46:00.002-05:00

so don't come back for me

I'm listening to terrible music eating ginger candy in an effort to distract myself from the brass-wrapped strings splitting my heart in five. That's not even natural. Anxious about the possibility of a decrease in productivity from today to tomorrow, I sit here with the blaring overhead light making visible all my flaws and it disgusts me that I am alone in my apartment typing on a computer. That is disgusting to me. A computer. Typing. The sound it makes sickens me and I try to remember that just a few hours ago I was browsing the Chinese supermarket on Hester Street. But even then I had my Goddamn iPhone. This also makes me sick and my fucking contacts are dry from staring at screens but I can't wear my headphones with my glasses on because it hurts my temples and I can't wear my headphones connected to my iPhone.

Upon opening the front door, I smell the dish water sponge and stove gas and my eyes hurt. I plug in the Christmas lights and put down my phone. I take a notebook off the bookshelf and grab the pen off the white thing. I sit for hours thinking about one of the many things I shouldn't. My eyes burn and the notebook falls off the foot of the bed and the pen is lost in the sheets. I pick up my phone, sit on the couch, turn on the TV.

I WANT I WANT I WANT cannot have. But I don't really want anything. I have everything I need, I just need to reorganize and re-utilize the things I already have in a more correct fashion in order to be happier. I am un-glad at the moment. This is mainly due intense guilt. Lazy fucking guilt. That jacket looks so small hanging up but it fits so big. This is how this is how. That's what that looks like, but what it is is just not the same. In fact it is different and unsatisfying. Wrong, even. Wrong, mostly.

Pretty, smart, funny

My hands smell of blood, the blood I was born with

Dawn

2011-12-14T20:28:00.002-05:00

and so the blood bloomed.
Geranium red through white dressings.
all who beheld gasped with disgust
turned away in shame
went home
cried
for days

The Best

2011-12-06T19:35:00.002-05:00

You are, and though I've done you wrong, remember this:

Together we are above it. Despite what I have made you feel, this is an objective truth.

2011-11-21T17:51:00.002-05:00

It's gonna happen to me eventually. I think I'm impervious. And I thought I'd never. Alas.
I am here and this is what I do.

that's ok...that is all long-term and I'm all about the short-term right now.

Blood

2011-11-15T12:37:00.002-05:00

at night it spills undetected. the arms of the afflicted turn pale.
by me it was inflicted. by dawn, circulated.

Are there enough bandages to disguise all my sins?
Will the light wane in my favor?
I said I just need to get home and exsanguinate in the company of no one.
I said this is mine and no one needs to know.

The Itchworm

2011-11-11T13:52:00.004-05:00

So scratch it.

But now it's starting to bleed.

I'm ridiculous

2011-11-09T14:19:00.002-05:00

They told me it's ok to pursue your dreams please do what makes you happy
but did they know?
they know.
That's not possible.

I love what I do. I love it and at this moment I wish I was religious so I could use the word 'blessed,' but will instead have to settle for the following: I am incredibly lucky to work around the people that I do and maybe it's inevitable, but I love them and getting out there every night would be impossible without them.

But what I want..what I want...is ridiculous.

I tell ya

2011-10-28T03:33:00.003-04:00

It's not enough. I can't get enough. What is enough?
Enough is when I've pushed it to the point where I feel like the meanest, silliest, pettiest little girl.

Why do I try to push it to that point when I know the outcome makes me look like the fool?

I am a fool. Should have stuck to the rivers and the lakes and I'm going back to my plow.

I need to stop doing what I'm doing, rein in the craziness and bring back the mystery. Don't give it all up.

Idle fucking hands.

Help with School

2011-10-19T10:24:00.003-04:00

At some point, I will come back and write something worthwhile.

School is keeping me busy and stressed (read: stressed and staring at the wall), so I spend most of my time studying and working (read: playing facebook games next to open textbooks and figuring out what to eat next).

I remember in high school when I started spending more time with Michelle and all the AP folk, I had a stronger desire to do well in school. I think it might behoove me to spend time with people who are actually pushing themselves to do well in school. Why am I so bad at this? I know I am smart. All the smart kid excuses - 'the material is not challenging enough' 'i was never challenged in school, therefore now i cannot adapt' - can't work anymore! I'm 25 goddamn years old, 26 in February. I can't use those excuses and anyone claiming ADHD at 26 is only doing so because their insurance doesn't cover the purchase of cocaine.

Since I don't really have any desire to chum up with the 19 year olds in my class, maybe I will take Sofie up on her offer.

Boat

2011-10-05T18:27:00.000-04:00

Coinstar Day

2011-09-29T17:17:00.002-04:00

I've been a bad, bad girl

in the park I sat, but this time there were no tears. This one and only time. I questioned how and why this could be, and all I could gather was that it was Tuesday.
It was Tuesday, but that wasn't it. What it was was embarrassing, lucky, and a little manipulative.
I like to complicate things to the max, especially when I'm feeling overwhelmed with responsibility. Make it worse and self-destruct, I guess.

heaven help me for the way I am
save me from these evil deeds before I get them done

Rice

2011-09-28T16:44:00.002-04:00

and so she goes. She's going to the last place she remembered she had it together, relatively speaking.

and so she went. She went until she realized that responsibility and good grown-up choices contraindicated that pilgrimage.

and he said that was right. you did good. you're smart. you make good choices.

this is hard for me. i think it might always be.

rice. gonna eat some.

With Grace

2011-09-26T11:55:00.002-04:00

I do love my life. Right now, I do love it.

I'm worried about so many things, but I think my brain is maturing and handling each one separately simultaneously.

With school, I don't feel caught up. I think to some extent both of these classes are supposed to make you feel this way, from what I hear anyway. I'm sure most people in my classes are a little ahead of me, but those people do not work full time.

I'm happy because I'm about to finish studying for a lab exam that I will go take at 1:30, and I finally feel pretty comfortable. Tonight, I work in Harlem. I have class tomorrow, then I have Wednesday AND Thursday off?!?! For some reason we have no classes on Thursday...

....that's crazy. Should I work overtime? Or should I just study? I really need to do both, but I think I'm actually going to take the time and study. Maybe I'll put myself on call. I might just.

Really, though, I'm happy because I spent the weekend in Montauk.

Pain

2011-09-21T23:02:00.002-04:00

My back hurts.
Is any of this worth the pain?
what pain what do you know about pain

If I could just destroy something, maybe I would feel human. Right now, I am but a drone. I go to work and school and make money and spend it and sleep and eat and work some more. All inside the box it is. I can't do anything outside of the box because it will mess up everything inside the box, and I feel like I've built a little diorama there. A diorama that right now consists solely of a very solid foundation for the rest of my life. If I open the damn box shit will get inside and fuck everything up.

I've said it before: it's so easy to fuck things up. It's so easy to let it all go and be a fucking nutcase. No one expects anything real from you and you get a pass on all behaviors. Keeping shit together and building what you want for yourself is hard. It's hard and it's mentally taxing because messing up something you care about hurts. If you don't try, you don't get hurt.

And I'm trying now. I'm trying so hard.

Dread

2011-09-15T15:41:00.002-04:00

I dread it all. There's always something to dread.
Always something to hate.
Something to fear.

Oh, to stab myself in the brain; the torture is too great.

School

2011-09-13T10:39:00.002-04:00

I'm so bored. I hate studying. I hate school I hate work I hate everything it's all so tiring and I don't even want to sleep I just want to sit and watch TV and talk to people I like and walk in the sun enjoy the weather go to the beach learn to surf look at the ocean go swimming sit in the sand relax eat apples

Old Boyfriends

2011-09-08T21:59:00.002-04:00

Fall semester blues have got me longing for the days when I had Facebook. The two-week grace period is over. It's sinking in. I must succeed. So I'm listening to Is This It, and remembering standing on the path between the pool and the cafeteria with Danielle and Michelle, Michelle wearing the Batman shirt and Danielle the Rock Star shirt in the hazy post-dawn hours before the 8 o'clock bell. There's a picture of this. It was September 11, 2001.

I'm not sure why I remember this; I used to attribute it to the notion that Danielle gave me Is This It on that day in that spot, but I don't know why she would have given me a random gift. Maybe it was for Christmas. I do remember the photo, although I don't have it.

Of course now I have spent several minutes trying to find it. I have a feeling it's at home in one of my photo albums. I must now call my mother to make sure they're still there although she is in a different state and will likely be unable to reassure me.

46 minutes later, I have been reassured they are in one of the nightstands in my childhood room. Jesus Cristo, of course they are. I will find that picture one day.

My Moon, My Man

2011-09-07T16:48:00.005-04:00

I think the perfect man would be somewhere between Tom Waits and Jeff Bridges.

captivating
intelligent
humorous

http://www.jeffbridges.com/

Tom Waits is hilarious. If I could tell stories as well as he, I would love myself.

Story - Tango 'Til They're Sore

I know that looks annoying but I don't know how to use computers so just click it. And Shereen, and Brian and I'm not sure who else reads this who was at TackyFest - you'll love the end.

Kids

2011-09-01T22:21:00.003-04:00

I had a hard time tuning them out. I had a hard time not getting angry.
It was hard for me to control the hot cacti scratching beneath my skin because I know the only way to make that go away is to do a shot, or take one.
I sat there with fists clenched, when I saw them.

My hands relaxed and my eyes watered. How easy it is. Kids don't give a shit about annoying people on the train. They barely know what annoying is. Fuck thinking people are annoying. Nothing is that serious. Just look out the window and watch the tiles and beams and blackness pass.

Madeline, here we go around again

2011-09-01T21:36:00.004-04:00

But it's got to stop, my love.
But it's just so sad.

We'll both cry and cry and I want your warm but it will only make me colder when it's over
so I can't tonight, baby I can't although I feel like I'm being persecuted from the inside out without you.

And I should be fucking killed. Strung up from the gallows for high treason, by Jove. The thoughts I have are just not right. Who do I think I am? I'm going to mess this up just like I did last time.

And what is it - restlessness? boredom? something missing? someone else, or the possibility of?

Oh, fuck it all. This combination of apathy and an affinity for self-destruction has done me no good, just led me from place to place like anything else would have.

Exsanguination

2011-08-30T09:21:00.000-04:00

and all she does is think about him
his wit and his smile
his restrained affection for her

and at home she don't want to seem weird
and so she holds back out of
repression not convention

so what's worse and who's wrong?

she says she caught him with the blonde in the house they share. she says he'll make it right. she says she don't take that from anyone, but it's different, you know? You say you'd treat me better, but how'm I to know I'm not walking into it all over again. Or worse?

like always, starts out normal..

2011-08-29T13:54:00.003-04:00

Well here I am; it's 2011. It's also almost September. My lord.

As I've gone through my second stage of growing up here in New York, I have realized one thing. I have realized more than one thing I hope, but most of them aren't worth discussing.

I'm a lot busier than I think. I tend to feel I am boring and all I do is work. Then I feel like all I do is work, but I don't work enough overtime to be put into the 'workaholic' category where that kind of behavior is acceptable. Fuck this thread, interest has dropped.

I'm starting school tomorrow. Taking Bio I and A&P I. I think it's a good thing we bought a coffee maker.

I can't help these dreams I have. First, they were all nightmares, now some of them still are and the rest are just weird. Maybe I have a brain tumor. I wish I had some legit medical insurance. I have more than briefly considered dropping to per diem status and losing my full-time 'benefits.' Then I could get Medicaid. Why not me? Concentrate on school, stop working myself crazy.

What you liked about him. It makes me - I think I just ingested a little drain cleaner - proud to know that I am not a shallow bitch. I almost wrote 'shallow cunt,' but that makes me a little sick. Mainly, it has been a long time since I've been attracted to someone solely based on appearance. This makes me happy. I have only really met 2 or 3 in the last few that have piqued my interest enough to get my mind going. I've been romantically involved with one for almost two years. Just like anyone, I enjoy mindless flirting with cops...who knew I would ever say that? The fact that I do it every time I work and it's not creepy at all is actually really odd.

I'm trying to decide which shelter to take these clothes to.

she said please don't tell all your friends
because they might tell my husband
and then you know I'd never see you

God, something is ripping at me. Temptation came knocking and I have the door chained but open and that part of me is about to close the door just long enough to remove the chain and swing it wide open. My God, you are tall.

you said you said you said

and you said come back we love you down the hall and I'll never forget it even though you probably didn't mean either

GAW!!! Oh, help. Please I have to go outside I'm getting too dreamy and silly mind-things are multiplying - oh,
I think I just killed them.

Mother, the rats have overrun my neighborhood.

2011-08-22T10:10:00.003-04:00

Goddamn, I have got to start writing more. I think in order to do this, I must read more. I was reading my livejournal entries

hello

2011-08-12T18:11:00.003-04:00

So I guess I really don't write here anymore.

Looks like it's another Friday night at work pour moi. When will it all be over?

For the last two weeks I have been able to remember every single dream I have, and it turns out it's not so awesome. It's actually horrible when they're all nightmares. People keep dying, I keep doing the wrong thing and getting in trouble or losing my job. My period was also 10 days late. oMG TMI. But I guess that means I'm under some sort of emotional stress. Personally, I don't understand it...I go to the beach every fucking week; how could I be stressed?

Yellow Light

2011-07-21T12:40:00.002-04:00

This isn't living I tried to say to myself as the voice on TV began again: 'In the Criminal Justice System the people are represented by two separate, yet equally important groups...' I rolled over and tried to sleep some more of my twenties away. This restless depression is destroying me.

Chinatown

2011-07-08T14:28:00.004-04:00

yesterday, I was walking in Chinatown and it suddenly started to pour. I waited underneath some scaffolding until it lightened up.

This old Chinese man on a Rascal who had previously tried to grab me and the woman standing next to me as we passed zoomed over to me and a couple other people and said:

"Young, it's alright, Old: no good!!!"

Words of wisdom.

New Year's Resolution

2011-06-16T21:51:00.003-04:00

I've decided I want to start eating healthier and exercise regularly.

Tales of Daily Excitement

2011-06-16T17:16:00.003-04:00

I have a new favorite show. It is called The World According to Paris. It kind of reminds me of my other favorite show: The X Life. I truly enjoy television shows in which nothing of any consequence ever happens. It is really some kind of feat that these shows are even on the air. In any case, I guess I can be happy that more happens in my silly little life than does in those of the rich and (questionably) famous.

For example: I semi-succeeded in fishtail-braiding my hair. That's something. Also, I've been eating way too much lately and have gained a couple more pounds. It's still no big deal, but if I keep doing this I will be up to 130 pounds in a week or so and then I will be sad. Not interested in that.

So I've always liked cooking, but for some reason I've gotten more interested in doing it lately. I get a lot of positive feedback from my cute little boyfriend whenever I do cook which is either very sweet and heartfelt or a lazy man's clever strategy. Just kidding, he also likes to cook. I'm the lazy one. So I'm trying to decide something to cook tonight. I want to go to chef to buy a bottle, a sieve, and maybe a cupcake tin. There might have been something else but my kitchen is not that big so I'll just ignore it.

Another reason I don't want to gain any more weight is so I can fit into my bathing suit and have fun this summer. I already have a nice tan which is awesome. I know I sound like I'm 18 but whatever, not gonna pretend like I'm actually mature. I keep having dreams that my teeth fall out when I eat something sticky and apparently that means I'm anxious about my appearance. Well, it's true. I'm 25 but I have the brain of a pubescent girl. My teeth are pretty healthy looking actually.

When I am an old lady going to the hospital for acting like an old lady, someone is going to rule out a stroke and ask me to smile and then ask my family if I always smile like that. Why do some people have crooked smiles? I kind of -- whatever. This is getting too self-something.

So tomorrow I'm going to go running. Oh! And I have a doctor's appointment...I haven't been to the doctor since I went to Rutgers. I told you my life was interesting.

Better

2011-06-12T15:19:00.003-04:00

I'm feeling better. Less mood swings. Less sleeping. Much better.

I miss the highs, but not the lows, and so it goes. duh dun duh dun. It's all the same but not so bad. Whatever.

I actually feel like I'm sleeping too little. Maybe this is how I am normally. 2 and a half weeks. almost 3. not bad, Amanda, not bad at all. I also gained a little bit of weight as expected, but today I was 124 lbs so that's not too bad. Not that I care about things like weighttt...

Have you ever seen this movie 'Girl?' I kind of can't believe it's on ABC right now, but it is. It's a late 90s movie about a high school senior who becomes obsessed with 'the next Kurt Cobain.' It's kind of funny. It's really a horrible movie but I was into it. I remember I wanted to watch it so badly because I thought the guy was cute. Isn't it funny being young?

I am an old woman now. 25 years old. Old beyond what is necessary, I'm pretty sure. That's ok. I have a good life.

the final

2011-05-25T10:31:00.006-04:00

It's ok/today's the last day

What comes from me is going to be a combination of things. It's going to be solitary, drug-related (not always), deviant, semi-psychotic and possibly violent. I don't care what you see when you look at me. I think what I'm about to say is that if I actually acted like myself, I'd not only confuse a lot of people, but lose a lot. Might lose my job, my boyfriend, my apartment, the trust of those who have come to trust me.

ah, quelle tristesse.

And Amanda, again honey why does it matter? What are you afraid of? I was myself at one point. I just don't want to scare everyone away.

I get so much hope that today will be the day I make a change. So much that I feel desperately disappointed at the end of the day when I've done nothing.

worry

2011-05-19T23:28:00.003-04:00

I sigh and I sleep but nothing remedies the anguish.
I sit and sit and sit and sit and it just gets worse.
what else am I to do??

brain and body in the grips of it. a vise that grates metal on metal into a shrill squelch as I turn the crank, tightening tightening.

i hate it i'm so sick my stomach burns
and i'm oh-so-worried too

Once again, pick up the pen

2011-05-18T19:55:00.003-04:00

If I could intertwine beauty and filth, youth and experience, whimsy and unapologetic realism,

it would be my novel.
beautifully disgusting.

And I would say it is mine. Wanna hear about my life?
This is mine and I do not apologize for it. It is mine and I'm not sorry, not ashamed.
I wrote this.

18-50 hours

2011-05-16T22:32:00.002-04:00

boring boring boring boring me
i've lived 3 lives
i've lived half a life
a half-life that's ruled my half a life

that's ok.
that's ok that's all it is
simple i'm a loser
but i had help

doesn't change anything amanda do the dishes take a shower

Headaches

2011-05-16T22:08:00.002-04:00

So I went in. I didn't know what else to do. Stay out, go in, what else. Yeah so I went in.
That turned out to be stupid.
I've always known I was a bit on the dull side, but Jesus.
I think someone said I was racist and I looked ugly or something like that. I looked at myself in the mirror and I was ugly. So I must have been racist, too.
Later, I sat in a wheelchair with a bandage around my head.
I look much better now, I thought.

And that was that. I learned that day that nothing matters. People will just make shit up and then you end up with a black eye.

They say at home I've gotten crazier. I say hey no one really knows but me.
and I agree.

Sunday

2011-05-16T01:03:00.001-04:00

I have concluded that I am immensely terrified of failure and judgment.
I have to be the best and cannot be thought of as anything less than perfect.
I must be crazy.

Progress

2011-05-11T22:04:00.000-04:00

fuck YEAH.

I'm OK and I'm not dead yet. I have a lot to do, but I don't have to do it all at once.

Under Pressure

2011-05-10T22:33:00.003-04:00

I don't do any of that anymore
why not
It's because I feel suffocated by my life. I feel static.

Just the amount of time I've had on this earth - I should have done something by now. I've done nothing. I've done nothing but postpone.
TBA TBA TBA TBA
My schedule is so rigid that I'm constantly on edge. Can't be late. Can't not go. I get it
I get it; I'm an adult and this is how shit goes.
Why was I better at this when I was younger?
Because it wasn't all I had.
I had hope then. The rest seemed somehow not as important.
Now it's everything.
Is this pressure?

So do I just need some fucking hope to get me out of this hole? Where am I going to find that? I don't give a shit about anything except keeping what I have so

What am I going to do?

2011-05-09T21:58:00.004-04:00

Well, I'm going to make the best of it (read: take the torture half-assedly).

This is what I want: I want a fucking summer. I want to take the fuck off and drink myself retarded every day and throw shit and have it not matter with sparklers and bathing suits and sand sand in my fucking corneas laugh it laugh it laugh it off as you rub it rub it out onto healthy summer moist face saying I love you i love you I could never forget you I'll remember this forever because it's

FUCKING FUN.

What's this torture we do to ourselves to become successful? To be happy 'later in life' (read: when you're old and have annoying children who want to go to Disney World). Fuck that. I'm not going to Disney World ever afuckinggain. that place is awful.

To you, maybe!

2011-05-09T21:09:00.003-04:00

'unapologetic tone...' Oh, honey baby darling sweetheart, I got you covered.
If, as a woman writer you write 'unapologetically,' you should also be 'funny,' it seems. If you're going to be 'unapologetic,' you must present it in a satirical format, which is totally cool because I'm down with that too...but don't wanna have to.

'HAVE TO.' Like I'm forced to write anything. The only one who would force me is myself, and myself is not doing such. Fuck myself. Fuck IT, though.
That is my solution to everything.
No matter how little it means.

MAX FISH

2011-05-09T17:11:00.002-04:00

On Friday night, Max Fish was shut down for some silly reasons. Bring it back! Sign the petition!

http://www.ipetitions.com/petition/supportmaxfish/

Red pill or Blue pill?

2011-05-03T22:20:00.004-04:00

I sit here in the midst of a battle eternal. Alone in my living room.
Red pill? Blue pill?
There are two levels to this discussion, but each are tired old subjects.

Right now I just want to go back to SW 70th St and US1 waiting for the walk signal on the corner. I want to stand there making faces at cars and dare each other to flash the next while complaining about the heat until we run across the street and try to make it before the previews end.

My addictions were just beginning and therefore manageable. 'Manageable' wasn't even an issue. It wasn't something I thought I'd ever have to manage. I rarely carried any thought to its end, for that matter.
Now I carry them to their ever-bitter end. They all end badly. They all end in misery and boredom and perpetual disappointment. I'd like to cry or at least stab myself in the head, but these ideas are both boring.

I would walk into that old building, skip the choice of right-side or left-side stairs, and walk straight to the bathroom on the right. The old sinks, the old mirrors, the old windows. It was old and beautiful and it was a bathroom. Yes, it was a bathroom and I loved it. It had great mirrors. Girls would line up after class and unabashedly check themselves out from the side waiting for one of the three stalls, one of which was occupied by me, unabashedly letting the pills clink-clink from the bottle as they slipped into my palm. I'd walk out, calm and happy with a lightness in my step, through the old doors of Murray Hall onto Voorhees Mall...finding a tree with a minimal number of ants and adequate sunshine. I love it here right now.

That was the only time I liked being there. Generally. I had lots of great times, to be sure, but the fun ended. It ended in fucking madness. I went down in flames and felt immensely guilty for it, which only made the flames grow taller, licking at everything around me, threatening their demise as well. You got out, then you died. I tried, baby, I tried.

I thought maybe I would like school if I tried it again. I hate it. Hate it still. All this fucking work for what? And I try to think maybe I don't hate it, I just hate it conditionally. Then it was drugs and carelessness and selfishness and now it's fatigue from work. I try to think this, but know there will always be a condition. One day I will stop being a whiny little bitch. I'll keep you posted.

We left Doll's and walked back to your Hamilton Street apartment and crushed PBR for hours.
and where in the hell did you go with my toothbrush??
We left Doll's and got free Jameson all night at the Court Tavern. No I'm not going to the hardcore show downstairs but goddamn, did I really bleach my hair? you looked adorable blonde, but you are gorgeous as a brunette.
That chick was hella cool. What was the kid's name? What was his name? The bartender who picked me off the floor of the bathroom, put me in his car and carried me up to my room?? haha oh GOD that happened. Danny. I fell asleep on my still-in-service little purse and had a zipper print on my face in the morning. I had a crush on Danny. Again presumably conditional.

Would anyone ever really do this?

Am I supposed to think this is sweet?

Come on, dude.

Give me a fucking break.

Anyway:
RED PILL =
I cannot liken them to one another. This metaphor is no good. Well, let me try again.
RED PILL = what I want, risky, leads to potential destitution, hard to obtain
BLUE PILL = what I should want, difficult and confusing, will pay off later

Still a terrible metaphor. I need a 40.

'We had a dog when I was little named 'Do-Si-Do''

Tell me, tell me PLEASE: Is this why I'm so miserable??

The Bound and the Beaten

2011-05-02T23:05:00.004-04:00

But God, how bad I know it is.
What it does to me I have no desire to express.
Because no one needs to know, and neither do I.

It's bad and I know the torture it leads to, but here I am. Almost 10 years following my soft poison's first velvet taste.

It's not physically painful.

The Anxiety of Doing Nothing

2011-04-28T20:56:00.003-04:00

It leaves me eating Banana La Yogurt out of the 32 oz. container in front of the mirror.
It leaves me jumping in front of the mirror under the living room light so as to shadow the muscles in my legs.
It leaves me walking from room to room listening to 'Oh Well' on repeat.

I'm off to a good start for summer as far as skin color goes. That's something.

The Weight

2011-04-28T19:20:00.009-04:00

Mystery is only so interesting apparently.

I would explain how I feel and what I think that means and all that silly, overemotional, Middle School crap, but instead I will state a fact:

It's back.
It's back and I know what it's from and sometimes it seems so worth it, but when it comes like this it seems like it's not. It's trying to pass as a functional human being all day while my shoulders are pushed downward with a force I cannot support.

Maybe I'll just become a drunk.
And give less of a shit than I already do.
Fuck it. Fuck it all. Fuck my appearance. Fuck you. Fuck your words. Fuck mine.

On a mainly unrelated topic: when will the struggle end?!?! Is this a lifelong thing or will I eventually also say fuck it to music and writing as well? I think I would be upset while at the same time not giving a shit about it anymore.

I'd starve to death/I would die of thirst
But choking on my failures/could only be worse
than to hang to death by a noose of my own fear

I want to jump and sing and throw papers in your face and kick bottles at you 'til they shatter on your skin
I want to sustain 10,000 paper cuts and roll in broken glass until blood obscures the print on my shirt
I want to slap you
I want you to punch me
I want to fight
I want the pain.
Life is too easy without pain and my struggles aren't enough. It's guilt and self-loathing and that's unattractive, Amanda; find a fucking hobby.

Yeah I used to have a few.

Heartbeats

2011-04-07T20:20:00.002-04:00

When can I talk about my soul? When can I talk about my heart?
When will my heart be something that feels rather than one that beats?

When does objectivity stop being the objective?
When does sensitivity start making sense?

But Don't Forget to be Nice

2011-04-07T19:56:00.002-04:00

I started fucking up again. It's so easy and I make it so hard. Go to class. Go to work. Keep your appointments. I've been really good with work and I owe a lot of that to Dave.

I know I'm tired. I know I'm overworked and under appreciated. I know these things, and it should be enough, it should, it should be enough to be looked at in the eye and hear, 'thank you so much, you were really so nice. You made this horrible situation so much better for me.' I say, 'that's what I do. No problem, good luck, feel better,' and throw the sheets I'd been holding off the stretcher in the soiled linens hamper as I walk away. It's routine. But when some wretched cunt has the audacity to accuse me of 'lacking in compassion' I have a serious issue. How dare she.

I know I'm no knight in shining armor. I look like someone's bright-eyed grandchild who couldn't hurt a fly, let alone save the day. I understand all this, but despite my appearance, give me a chance. I ask that one thing: give me a chance. One single fighting chance. I'm stronger than I look, tougher than I look, extremely competent and capable...God I don't want to be the one to say it, but women in EMS are not trusted. Men and women alike want a man to come and save them. I've saved more than one person, and that I can say with fuerza. It's true, and I know it and it's been documented.

Will I ever be taken seriously? How many times have I given a competent, complete report on a patient in extremis? What do I have to prove? Do I have to shave my head? Do I have to bulk up on steroids, need I testosterone? Some facial hair maybe? Maybe just no makeup. I thought the makeup made some people trust me more. I think it does. But maybe it makes me look too pretty to be of any use. What the fuck. What is all this. What are people and why are their perceptions be so static?

When I become a PA, will I be taken seriously? When will I be taken seriously? I'm fucking smart as hell. That's it. I'm more than competent, I'm literally a genius you assholes hahaha...OK this sounds completely crazy but it would be funny if you could hear me hello you out there reading this

just seeing how much more creepy I could make that. Well I feel better, but still uneasy. It is upsetting. It's not like I'm a mousy pretty girl. I am forceful and to the point. That should make people feel more comfortable. Ugh. maybe I should just be more forceful.

In June you will be 27 years old.

2011-04-05T11:55:00.006-04:00

It would please me greatly to write something of substance, but unfortunately this is going to be rather disorganized.

why can't I let go (sometimes)?
why do I hang on to it (sometimes)?
I wonder and
wonder
and
nothing.

It's a futile attempt at something I know I don't want. So why do I find myself trying to get it, or at least trying to illicit a response which I know will be negative? And in the off chance it isn't, I get so excited and hope for..what? Something I know I don't want.

But God, I want you. I always have and all I want is a coke binge, a fuck and a good ponder on the way home.

Youth, be mindful.

2011-03-25T18:16:00.002-04:00

I am glad, despite all of my mother's best efforts, I acted like a 16 year old when I was 16. And a 17 year old when I was 17. And an 18 year old when I was an 18 year old.

I do wish I could do it again. I sit here at 25 getting ready for another night of work. All my partners and co-workers and hospital friends know my least favorite job is one in which the text states, 'wht fml intox.' But tonight, if I find the most emotional ridiculous underage drunk in the lower east side, I will be happy. I will be nice to her. I will shake her hand. I will kiss her if she's not too pukey, and if she is, I will give her my hair tie.

Since I 'went back' (god, that makes me sound old) to college in January and am taking statistics with all these 18 year olds, I hadn't experienced something so awful until yesterday. There sit a boy and girl behind me who have disrupted the class the entire semester with their flirting and their BBM'ing, and yesterday the professor finally asked the girl to move. The boy hadn't arrived yet. She went OFF. Dude, I have never seen something so disrespectful and unnecessary...if I had time to go into everything she said, it would all be transcribed. But let it just be said that she refused to move and the boy was moved once he showed up. The rest of class shared looks of disbelief. It was horrendous. Where does this girl live? Is New York City secretly run by a monarchy? Hmm..that's actually a question.

Anyway. Off to work. That bracelet I mentioned in a post about a week ago - can't find it. I never lose anything. I'm buggin' man. I think Joey'd forgive me. Maybe I'll name my first born Joe to make up for it. Or Hope. Jesus Christ, I just fucking might. I really feel terrible and can believe it. I totally know myself. I will be working on several short stories in the coming weeks and months, and YES, I will finish them. Maybe I should finish before I begin my summer Chemistry malarkey (a word not used nearly enough).

Validation

2011-03-24T17:54:00.002-04:00

'I will, even if no one cares.'

It's a tall fence to climb over. It's a tall fence and I'm getting tired.

When the people whose opinion counts most is just not there, it's like I've been shot in the leg with a muscle relaxant and it's all I can do to hold on to the fence, let alone get to the other side.

It's too much to ask, though. It is. Opinions vary. Maybe I love you, but don't like your taste in music. It's fine. In the end, we're still friends, right?
So why does it hurt so much?

it is what it is

2011-03-23T20:54:00.006-04:00

It's not so bad sometimes.
I talk to them. Ain't nothing wrong with them.
I've a crush on Jimmy, it's true. I did basically from the moment I met him with Samantha Gregory. He's got beautiful eyes. He fights, but out of necessity. He told me once he came here from Freeport at 15 or 16 to get away from his dad.
His dad beat the crap out of him, 'but he did it to make me tough, to teach me to fight, I think. You know?'

I'd like to wear all these beautiful outfits and look clean and fresh like these modelesque girls that encroach upon Avenue A every day. I could save the money and buy one outfit and feel untouchable for one day and idiotically guilty for however many I have left on this earth.

But I could.
I could but I can't walk my 'hood
like that
expect the air'd raise my nose
like that
That air knows my nose
knows we keep
our eyelines aligned

Fuck you with your touched up face pointed up
like that
You can't see the sky
like that

Then what's it for,
You self-made whore?
So shadows won't find those
fresh frown lines?

hah. Jesus.

2011-03-23T11:46:00.000-04:00

Dead Plastic chick bracelet

2011-03-21T21:54:00.004-04:00

I have a story to tell. I have a story amongst many stories, but this one - this one must be told now to the 20 or so people who read this daily.

I'd like to save it. I'd like to save it like I'm trying to save the rest with the hope of someday capitalizing off them, but I digress.

It started with an average Avenue A intox. A skinhead had one too many and asked a passing hipster to call him an ambulance. This is a common occurrence with an average beginning that ended not all that differently, but surprised me nonetheless. Nonetheless enough to cause me to get this out somewhere now.

He was in his early forties.
He said he's fucked up today over the passing of his lifelong friend. She died this morning. Heroin OD. She was a good kid and he's fucked up over it.

A skinny skinhead tattooed from the shoulders down (as far as I wanted to tell), insisting that I, like him, should invest in steel-toed boots. They've done him wonders over the years, I learned. Wonders, especially in the last few days. Each skull and cross-bone tattoo that marks a new knuckle represents another motherfucker who fought him and didn't live to see another day. That's what he said.

He was clean for 13 years until his wife died. His wife was the hottest woman in the world, but not as hot as I am, which must make me the hottest in the universe he said. His friend died this morning and he's just fucked over it. No it doesn't suck and you don't gotta apologize I'm drunk that's why I'm drunk so don't worry.

I stood finishing my paperwork and chatting with people in the hospital when I walked over to interrupt the anti-Semitic comments in the Jewish hospital. He reached all the way up his left sleeve, pulling a bracelet off his upper arm. Fake pearls on two elastic strands met at the word 'Hope.' 'Hope' written like 'Shaniqua' but plastic made to look like gold already rubbing off around the edges.
This is my friend's that died this morning. I want you to have it. Are you sure you want to give this to me man.
Do I look like the type to wear pearls?

Pearls like poils in Brooklyn since the day you weren't even given a chance. It's ok. OK.
Is there Hep C all over this fucking bracelet like there is all over you?
This bracelet came off a dead girl less than 20 hours ago.
I'm sure the Hep wasn't lost on her either.

I tied it up in a glove and keep it in my pocket. I haven't decided what to do with it, but I have decided, against the recommendations of everyone who saw this interaction or whom it was mentioned to, that I will keep it.

Data Vary

2011-03-18T18:00:00.004-04:00

Which is the only reason I never offed myself.

Today was beautiful. I forgot my camera so there are no pictures of daffodils in bloom at Tompkins. No pictures of awkward tension representing skell v. film school princess at the chess tables. Nothing of crumbling subway tracks. None of winter angle sun down desolate Gowanus streets.
Just the occasional passerby talking to themselves about 'O Lord!' 'O Jesus!' 'No he's turning this way...OK..OK' They all say different things because they vary. Each case is not the same.

Each mind is molded by a multitude of minutes that might not have mattered at the time, but have proved to persist.

More on the mind, I have, but must go to work. I will leave you with this:

Listen to 'Boxcar'

I feel like tonight's going to be crazy.

Wynwood

2011-03-16T10:54:00.004-04:00

The club under the bridge, where was it?
The shell gas station and the taco bell.
Close to one of the highway overpasses.
We walked down the dark, desolate sun-bleached asphalt street past the secluded charcuterie to the shell station to get reds.
Across the freight tracks we walked and I wanted to investigate the lone access road to some barbed-wire enclosed field.
I bought the cigarettes through the Plexiglas safety window and we walked back bitching:
where the fuck'd they go
fucking heels man I look hot but I'd rather
I'd rather
I'd rather get the dirt and blood and disease of these Miami streets in my feet
Bitch, why? I thought you were out.
I am. But I love this place. I love it for everything that's wrong with it and nothing that's not.
If that motherfucker over there put that knife to use on me, I'd be OK with that.

Dreams

2011-03-15T12:14:00.003-04:00

But in the meantime we've got it hard/Second floor living without a yard/It may be years until the day/My dreams will match up with my pay

Dreams.
are silly.

The two of us, one bedroom. Out of 1523 ASAP.

2011-02-24T23:32:00.004-05:00

There's a steel train coming through/I would take it if I can

because I 'have so many experiences that I want to have...but no one to do or have them with. This is why I must find a dog who needs someone just the same. He will hop trains with me.'

- December 17, 2004

[EDIT]

2011-02-23T01:26:00.002-05:00

So I guess it's called a 'quarter-life crisis.' Not everything fits, but I guess that's the general idea. Much to my dismay, there are now many self-help books on the subject, but on a more positive note, it was not John Mayer who coined the term. Thank God.

Maybe all the friends I emailed regarding the topic already knew this, explaining why they didn't respond to my short questionnaire. I'd like to say, 'If not, I'm going to think that anyway..' but instead I'm gonna say, once again, 'Fuck them.'

I have like 5 good friends and I'm totes OK with that.

The Stacks

2011-02-17T22:57:00.002-05:00

Have I ever mentioned my deep-seated love for college libraries?? I fucking love them. All the hidden corridors and hidden bathrooms. All the books! WTF you could find anything in there. You could become proficient in any goddamn thing you wanted to. Today, I undertook an experiment sitting in the stacks. It applies to the admittedly limited age range of 24-25. I haven't gotten to 26 to know if it applies there also, but at this point I must conclude that it does not. Anyway, I also decided that my time has fucking come. I can't wait any longer..well maybe after I do my 3 12-hour overnight weekends...and then go to school and IKEA on Monday...and work another 12 on Tuesday...and go to school on Wednesday and Thursday...and back to work Friday night..

just go away

2011-02-16T19:44:00.002-05:00

waking up for breakfast
burning matches
talking quickly
breaking baubles
throwing garbage
drinking soda
looking happy
taking pictures
so completely stupid
just go away

Sofrito

2011-02-16T12:31:00.002-05:00

In case I need some sofrito.
Eat eggs from bowl.
Declare someone's independence.
Rewind so you're kind.
Don't forget the sofrito.

You might say, what the fuck are you talking about? Don't ask me; I don't know. The words flow in, but not correctly, I think it is. I identify this as the problemus gravitas. It's so nice, and all very interesting, but I'm going to pass on da grass but not gas.

I know that one day, I will look back on this and not appreciate it at all.

It's a fork when I was cool with a knife

2011-02-11T18:43:00.003-05:00

I squeezed the cooked eggs scrambled between my fingers and threw them at his door. He still doesn't know it was me. I heard him in the hallway What the fuck and felt no joy or success in revenge. I felt guilty and ashamed.

She was an elderly 25 when she wrote her first song. It wasn't good.

It doesn't have to look like anything! for chrissake's you fucking idiot.
but where do i start?
Start from the start. When a bird builds a nest, it doesn't look for perfection. It looks for a twig.

Forgotten Love and Mistaken Identity

2011-02-09T20:56:00.003-05:00

You're just lucky you still got your Klonopin and Methadone.
You can't fucking fall asleep there dude.
No this park's always been like that. Worse even.
That ain't no lady...it's a boy.
No it's ok just fucking spit that pizza out you got sauce all over your face man.

Come on, get in, it's cold.
What you're talking about crips and bloods you don't know shit about that old man.
I'm telling you, it was a fucking dude...that wasn't no lady.

And then I sit back there...was he a bad guy? Oh, baby...I got a whole story on this one. It's a whole story on one side and a 'what' on the other. Isn't that how they all work out? Nobody's nice and only one person remembers. It's like recognizing someone who didn't have the time to acknowledge your face upon meeting 2 months prior.

Happy Birthday, Ms. Could-Be-Senator

2011-02-09T14:40:00.002-05:00

This is what it looks like to be 25. For my birthday, I will go to the post office, a store that sells backpacks to buy one, Origins (totes lame, I know) to get make-up remover (because it's the only one I've ever bought, which was at 19 and I just ran out), and H&M to get a shirt.

I will then take a shower, possibly get my nails painted by someone and go to a bar in Midtown.

I'm thinking 25 might be OK. It's like 'I'm more sophisticated now, but I don't have to act it because I'm still youngish.' 25 is youngish - a chameleon age, if you will. That's how I'm gonna use it anyway. I use age. Who doesn't?

Now, for some make-up (yes I am saying I'm not wearing make-up in the picture to say I'm still young enough to post pictures of myself on the Internet without make-up...silly)...

Birthday TIMZZ

2011-02-08T19:55:00.002-05:00

I'm about to take the Jeopardy! online contestant test. We'll see how it goes hahaha. Yes, I want to be on a game show. Sad? Maybe. But this has been a long time coming.

I have a headache.
Tomorrow is my birthday.
I will be 25 and officially in my 26th year of life in about 4 hours. (technically more like 23 hours since I was born around 7 pm...but let's not get nerdy...or let's?!)

I normally work my cute little boyfriend on Wednesdays and we have the weirdest job and get into the strangest situations and the fact that I find that an acceptable birthday situation makes me happier with my life. Unfortunately, and somewhat fortunately (for future events), my schedule was changed as per my earlier request which I had just figured had been passed over. So I now work Friday nights (kill me) instead of Wednesday during the day. But it's also OK because Dave starts at the academy on Monday. My little fireman :)

So what shall I do for my birthday? I think I shall be myself and do silly things to my heart's content in lieu of being depressed. Sounds good? I think so.

Report Card TIME

2011-02-01T16:06:00.002-05:00

It's common for people to get depressed around their birthdays.

The first time it happened to me was right before my 17th. I didn't go to school February 6th, 2003. I remember being literally psychotic. At that point, I think it might have been brought on by impending doom combined with a version of guilt I had yet to deal with: guilty for being alive.

Up until this point, I already felt a lot of guilt but don't think I knew what to attribute it to. I did not die that month. Nor the next. It's eight years later and I'm still alive, and it's time for my annual progress report.

Passed

Got promoted at work.
Moved to Manhattan.
Kept a great boyfriend.
Paying off loans.
Going back to school.
Got rid of a toxic 'friend.'
Stopped being ridiculous and lost weight back to 124 pounds.

Failed

Haven't really made any friends.
Haven't kept in the best contact with old friends.
Stayed fat for most of the year.
Let that prevent me from having fun.
Still haven't left the country.
Stopped writing.
Rarely play guitar.
Feel so lazy.

So that's like a D average. There are more things I hate myself for, but let's not go overboard. Last night I dreamt one of my friends died and again I said why not me with no redeeming qualities with nothing to offer with no excuse avec une folle espirit con ropa sucia and without a motherfucking purpose. She's here without reason. Who brought her here? Sans raison.

i'm over it i'm over it

I KNOW THINGS ARE GETTING TOUGHER WHEN YOU CAN'T GET THE TOP OFF THE BOTTOM OF THE BARREL

2011-01-22T04:14:00.004-05:00

i got a girl i love to kiss

i got a girl i never want to miss

i got a girl who's my best friend

i got a girl

i like her girl friends.

how many people wanna kick some ass?

i do! i do!

how many people sick of holding it back?

i am! well i am too!

so don't lay another finger on her

she's mine and i still want her

if you put your hands upon her

you're a goner, a goner

drink and drink and drink and drink and drink and drink and

FIGHT!

just talked to this girl used to live yeah on my street

she said it's so funny, how life burns out so fast

let's take another drink yeah here's to the past

why, why, why, delilah??

ska sucks

fuck you, rudy!

it's hard it's so hard so fucking hard to live this life

your voice gets louder every week

what

Today I reviewed many of the CDs I made over the course of high school. All the tapes I made are long gone, I think. I learned a few things today. I had partially horrible musical taste, if I had any at all. Secondly, I liked to mix Disney songs with AAA and Propagandhi. Also, almost every single one of the CDs contains Op Ivy's Knowledge. You think I would remember that, but I don't...so it's not that I liked the song so much I had to have it on every CD...it's just that I forgot. Or something.

Bestly, on at least 4 of the CDs, there is a 0:04 bird chirp. Why I has this recording on the computer in the first place is odd enough, but the rest...whew.

And that kick some ass song is hilarious.

My Peppery Skin

2011-01-14T17:55:00.003-05:00

I still want to know the desperation.

If it's temporary, it's not complete.
Incompletes...you braise me. All you incomplete things in my life. Everything I started. Every idea I had to start. Todas las ideas que tenía empezar.

The cheap.
The 'I had to.'

The point is, I never lived the way I see myself. I've seen myself many places, but I never seem to be in any of them. One time I saw myself on the second floor of a Wisconsin farmhouse that stood alone for miles, aside from a willow tree and local highway. I stood up there, holding my wooden shutters open, white dress flowing over the window's low ledge. My hair was tied back low, waves of brunette hair brushing my shoulders, facing the road, awaiting my husband's green pick-up to crest the hill blocking our view of the highway. I had no children.

I saw myself in a crappy second-floor apartment, in a big city in the Northeast - Boston or Providence or maybe some place smaller that still has this type of apartment. The square porch on the second floor is bound by thin wooden fence and is pocked with dead soldiers full plastic ashtrays and broken up-turned plastic lawn furniture. Even in the winter. We never cleaned up. The apartment is dirty and I never do laundry. I sit with my feet on the kitchen table, pushing the front legs of the chair off the ground, smoking a cigarette with my elbow on my knee laughing and ruffling up my hair. We always have someone over, and when we don't, we're fucking on the dirty sheets under the light of the 1998 model floor lamp that we found on the way home from the bar two weeks after we moved in. It almost touched the low-ceiling in that room and we were amazed it worked after the rains that week. We only wake up when the landline rings. 'your cell phones are dead you buttfuckers' 'shut up and come over with more beer. you owe me a carton, also.' Those fucking stairs the owners built up the back to rent this 'apartment' are fucking murder stairs.

Well, fuck it. I have a great apartment and a great life. So why would I feel something missing? I also doubt the accuracy of my Spanish, and you should too.

You want to make love to the scene

2011-01-01T19:51:00.003-05:00

Well, Happy New Year everyone. This is my happy new year face. I hope it is suitable. I am against going to work tonight, but will do it nonetheless.

Hope everyone had a good year and I am happy. OK click on the photo if you need to see it any larger, which you probably don't. bye

2010, you.

2010-12-31T20:36:00.002-05:00

Tonight, I don't give a shit.
Tonight, I will write predictable leading lines of blah.
Tonight, I will be me the way I remember me.
Tonight, I will not be afraid.
Tonight, I won't hold back.
Tonight, the snail becomes a slug.
Tonight, you will remind yourself why you like you.

Tonight, you will not regret the year you spent being quiet.

Thursday

2010-12-31T01:19:00.005-05:00

We went to the movies.
We went to Beth Israel.
We went to Murray's.
I had the Falafel Pita.
You had the Chicken Schnitzel Pita.
We fucked.
We watched Jeopardy!
I got you chocolate ice cream.
I drank Four Loko and
we started to watch One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
even though I haven't finished the book and
you fell asleep, but
I kept watching.
I wrote.
I drew.
I thought a lot of things, but the one I didn't think was anywhere past tomorrow morning.

oh, fuck it.

2010-11-30T17:27:00.002-05:00

Yeah, dud.

I want to do drugs. I want to run naked through a field and land in the cool waters of a spring-fed lake. I want to accidentally hit my head on a rock on the way down. I want to bleed. I want to slash open my body in the street and dramatically throw the knife to the ground, emotionally scarring the fainthearted and weak-willed that gather, wanting nothing more than to feel badly for themselves. I want to give them that. I want to pinch a strand of red, satin ribbon between my thin fingers, draw it out and pull it taught, then tie it around my head, covering my mouth.

I want to hang by my hands from my fire escape with weights on my feet, stretching the fibers of the muscles in my arms 'til they snap.

tck. fp. slish.

I want to write. I want to write again.

Hi, Journal!!!

2010-11-11T10:29:00.002-05:00

This is going to be a more childhood diary post for the average to below average child. No genius here.

so...WTF is up with racists?!?! Yesterday, all day long we carried elderly Chinese patients down the most treacherous stairs in all of great old Chinatown. (note to self: basement restaurant - delicious). And yes, they may have been elderly...and Chinese, but two of them were, in fact, very large!! The man, at 93 was weighing in at no less than 220. The 82 year old female drunk off rice wine was pushing 190-200. Why do these people always live on the fifth floor?

Anyway...I fucking love the Chinese. They gave us bread and water (which sounds custodial, but it was much appreciated - fyi, Asian cultures have the best desserts). They're always so respectful and thankful and humble and very, very sweet people. The ones we deal with anyway.

Then we had a black woman having what looked like an ectopic pregnancy. She was extremely sweet and humble, and she looked thin and said was about my weight so carrying her down one flight of stairs was no big deal (more notes: I could apparently stand to lose a few), but she was cool.

So first of all...WTF with all the carry-downs??? Second of all...the RACISTS?!?!

Our last two jobs..the fucking racist drunks came out in full force. swinging, fighting, spitting, 'nigger bitch, 'chink,' 'fucking faggot white bastard,' they mean nothing coming from these worthless people, but jesus! Two in a row. I always show respect for everyone. These guys are beyond reason. I'm not too timid to fight back anymore. Fuck your racist bullshit. I'm a white bitch trying to take over the country. No thanks. haha. He was pulling out all his USAF credentials and tomorrow's veteran's day etc, and I said dude - I absolutely thank and respect you for your service, with which he interrupted me with 'FUCK YOU BITCH FUCK YOU YOU WHITE BITCH SHUT THE FUCK UP SHUT THE FUCK UP!!' --but no one is going to respect you like this. You can't even fucking walk you pathetic piece of shit. 'you don't even KNOW me! You have no idea who I am !! You have ---' 'And you have no idea who I am, sir.' That shut him up for a few seconds and he got restrained in the hospital for being a jerk.

We walked home scared of fucking racists. I was literally on edge. I can imagine what it's like for people who were once victims of it hardcore.

Breakfast ready!!

Rotting

2010-10-22T15:06:00.003-04:00

I drink

when I want to

I hang out with friends

when we want

we make time

I drink coffee

and eat breakfast

I clean

when I feel it necessary

I lay on the floor

when I feel it necessary

I go to work

when I must

I find work fun

when it is

I leave the windows open

to let the pretty in

Then the sun goes down

Dreams

2010-10-07T17:43:00.003-04:00

I want to say, to say!
saying sayings
the person falling here is me

and it's been that way for quite some time
I'm still here, prostrate in the mire
carry on, carry on
I say, please do,
after you

for the lust and the apathy
for the snowballs and spaghetti sauce

what did you do to me, kid

How I was almost allowed to run and jump and laugh without criticism.
And now.
Now.
Here I sit with all these rules,
all these rules which make me long for you

Am I it? Is this all I am?
Repressed.

You, you...you're there.
let me paint your walls
bend the wires of your dreams
let me
let me in

L'ennui

2010-09-21T16:03:00.002-04:00

I am so bored with my life.

Work is fine, but so monotonous. Sometimes it's not, and sometimes I'm glad it is because all I want is for it to be Thursday so I can fucking escape a little. I want to escape every day, but I can't. I can't because I have to work.

I need a job in which I won't have to fear being drug tested. I would like my job a lot more if I didn't have to worry about this. But I guess it's a good thing. And I guess I should choose a side.

I find it hard to look forward to anything. I'm excited about nothing. Life just looks boring and pointless to me.

It's a beautiful 71 degrees outside and here I sit by my window looking at how gorgeous it is, but haven't once gone out to enjoy it. The idea of getting off my ass seems annoying.

If you choose, try to lose

2010-09-19T19:17:00.002-04:00

God, I remember it all now.

I will choose to compile orphaned sensory memories into the most beautiful past upon which to reminisce.

But it's not so far off. It was beautiful. It was all beautiful. Perhaps it still is, but this I won't know for years.

When all I dreamed of was All Tomorrow's Parties with the amateur make-up and hair dryer and barrettes skirts and tights, eyes shining in whatever lights I could find. God, you're beautiful.

I wanted to say, to say to you one day...I want to make sense of myself, let me make sense to you.

And we all just wanted the same thing. The same exact thing. A thing is only one and can be had by only one, I know.

I always wanted to say I've made a big decision, but every time I started I got lost and never made anything. Never anything worth a damn, or a flying fuck...whichever.

At once and at length

2010-08-31T20:05:00.004-04:00

We were so cool once.

Everything was beautiful.
Everything was fun.
Everything was new.

And how old it got, so fast.

I was once thin, beautiful, and generally happy. I usually had what I needed, and what I didn't kept me striving
for something better.

And now here I sit
comfortably, keeping a Bank of America tab open, just to make sure
uncomfortably.

And sometimes I just need to be left alone;
I want to show you the fruits of my loneliness
when I'm done.

The loneliness I know now is fruitless.
It's sitting always.
Sitting TV Facebook cleaning eating eating

I once sat on a broken chair in a sterile room after tip-toeing the streets after playing a piano, dancing in the mirror and writing writing everywhere. I sat and slowly ate soup made from canned tomatoes and corn warmed up. I ate it with a toasted piece of bread and fresh-brewed iced tea. I ate it with headphones on and my four closest friends around me.
I was not lonely; I was happy.

I wiggled in the chair.
I writhed on the rough carpeted floor.
writhed, but in ecstasy, not pain.
I watched my hands touch glossy painted walls and admired the length of my fingers and the surprisingly good shape of my nails.
I said I am truly satisfied.

We were so cool once, and where did it go

Hi for now.

2010-08-31T19:13:00.002-04:00

I've been at this point where I just have no idea what's going on.

I kind of have a plan. I'm aiming to gather up the rest of my prerequisites for PA school by Spring 2012 (which seems hella far away), start PA school that Fall and finish by 2014. In the meantime, I'll just have to make as much money as I can in EMS. Ha. I'm going to have to get another job, but don't know how long I will be able to work two full-time jobs while going to school.

Anyway, sounds like a fairly well-thought out plan, right? So why do I feel so aimless? Is it because this is not what I really want? Or just because I found out that life is generally boring and terribly pointless? I feel like such an asshole just being alive.

I'm not a drain on my environment; I actually contribute to it. This isn't enough for me. It's not enough for me to know that every once in a while, someone would have died if not for me. It's great at the moment, but it doesn't last. The only things that last are things you wish would just stop. Like genital warts and people who think the outrage they display quite flamboyantly at having to listen to sirens is somehow justified. I think they're annoying too, but you live in a city where buildings are tall and close together and shit's just gonna echo. Deal. You've probably done more damage to your hearing with your iPod. I know I have.

is a sweetheart

2010-08-30T21:48:00.003-04:00

In the last year, I have:

Gained 30 pounds.
Lost 20 pounds.
Stopped writing.
Stopped daydreaming.
Become hyperpractical.
Rented my own apartment in Manhattan without aid.
Found a great boyfriend.
Grown up.
Become the epitome of cynical.
Realized life kinda blows.
Felt uncomfortable most of the time.
Become embarrassed of myself. (why??)
Realized that I miss you.

I need to get comfortable again and let myself go, to be perfectly cliché about it.

Bye, Bye Drugs Bye, Bye Happiness

2010-08-17T16:43:00.002-04:00

there is a ghost in my lungs
and it sighs in my sleep

I miss drugs. I feel truly incomplete without them. It's been months. I've been months without them before, and it's terrible. It reminds me of why I started doing them in the first place.

I've always been sad and introverted. The first time I took Klonopin from my mom, I knew it wasn't the last time I was going to feel free from all the barriers I had up in my mind. Taking Sabrina's Percocet and a Thermos of vodka requiring my friends to drag me off the beach only taught me I had to be careful doing things in front of other people. Throwing up 30 mg of Oxycontin on a flight to Laguardia when I was 17 only taught me scratch off the time-release coating, crush it up and snort it. Trying to snort Methadone off the floor of the handicapped bathroom in Elizabeth Hall made me hate myself. Getting blood on the passenger's seat of the white Jetta was my way of pretending it was my first time shooting heroin into my veins. Every time I snorted Adderall or coke out of the brown pill bottle in the stall of a bathroom or my own room, I tried not to feel bad. Cracking nitrous at Rutgers until hours had passed and I couldn't remember the last time my eyes or ears had experienced anything real and my roommates stopped laughing found me trying to convince myself that this was just something stupid I was doing for fun right now. Right now and not later. Having to shop at different Rite Aids so I could buy enough 'Tussin Cough' to load me up so I'd forget how pathetic and shitty I was only made me feel bad until the next day when I needed something and it was all I could get.

I've been sad since I was a baby. I only remember wanting to torture my brother and make him hurt. All anyone did was cry. Cry and blame each other. Being able to be up when I wanted to be up and down when I wanted to be down was a blessing.

This narrative is so dull and commonplace that as I read it back to myself it reflects just the way I see myself. I can't and don't write for shit anymore and I hate that too. Everything about myself I hate and find dull. I try to remind myself that I have an adorable apartment in one of my favorite parts of New York. I try to remind myself that I have a job that I like and am good at. I try to remind myself that I have a wonderful boyfriend. I try, but all I see is plaster, metal, tiles, wires, wood, dirt, hair, grease, stairs, fat, a paycheck too small, bills too big, and a boyfriend I take for granted. I don't think I try to find problems. I don't know what's wrong. I'm just tired of knowing how shitty life is when you can't control how you feel.

Humility

2010-07-27T11:28:00.004-04:00

K so I'm posting because I should be packing but it is hard and I do not wish to get all crazy on it right now.

I went to an old man's apartment yesterday. I think he was abusing duster. He had way too much of that stuff in his house haha it was weird. I also did CPR on a man from Miami born exactly a month after my dad. He probably died like the rest of them. I gave Albuterol to a 24-year old girl named Amanda, born in 1986. It was a weird day.

I'm not sure how I feel about it, but I feel like my political views are changing. Not in a larger sense so much...like I'm not suddenly opposed to a woman's right to choose or gay marriage or taxation or whatever...but more when it comes to 'the liberal media.'

I have a few things to say.

Sure, it's your "right" to pull out your cell phone camera and take pictures of some poor half-naked person on a longboard on the street after being hit by a cab running a red light at 40 mph all fucked up because you think it's "cool" and "crazy," but YOU'RE SICK. Seriously, what the FUCK is wrong with you people who pull out your cameras and take pictures of these HORRIBLE HORRIBLE things that happen to people??? Would you appreciate someone imposing themselves with their camera on your father as his heart is in arrest, stripping him of all dignity??? WHAT THE FUCK???

I've been on scenes where people pull out their cameras and camera phones and push their way through cops and firefighters and EMTs and medics to get their shot, and I've watched the cops, etc yell at these people. Put that shit away. What the fuck is the matter with you??? And these people have the nerve to yell back, it's my right. Bullshit, it is.

I rarely get upset anymore when I hear some dipshit gets beat up by a cop. Sometimes it's just retarded and unnecessary, and in that case obviously I'm not for it. But these little motherfuckers who mouth off just trying to start shit..fuck it. They deserve it.

So that's basically it. I agree that a lot of cops are assholes. But a lot of non-cops are assholes too, and just because they're not 'in a position of power' doesn't mean that their asshole behavior should somehow slide, when a cop gets blasted out by the media for something that usually is misconstrued and intensified.

One last piece - remember this: cops, firefighters, EMTs, medics - we all have protocol to follow. If we do not follow this protocol, there is a chance we will lose our jobs, which are not that easy to come by these days. So the next time you wonder why a cop won't let you slide for a crime, or an EMT won't give you baby aspirin for your headache, remember that if we don't write up paperwork for these things and we get caught, it's over. It's not about you!!

THE WORLD IS NOT ABOUT YOU!!!
IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU!!!

This is what I've learned the most. It's true, no snowflakes here. All these little fuckheads think they're destined for fucking greatness. Especially white people who grew up in the 80s and 90s. We were taught we could be anything we wanted and that we're special. Well, there's some truth in that, but these are certainly not words to live by. Everyone thinks they're the one who's going to make a difference. They're the one that's going to be famous. Look it up: humility.

drink some vine

2010-07-22T18:55:00.002-04:00

I can tell who you are with the long eyelashes
and the freckles on the nose

I get stressed out. I'm jumpy and irritable and I have dreams about people I love getting hurt, sick or killed. I have dreams about people I don't know with serious illnesses. I have dreams about these people infecting me. I wake up and the feeling doesn't go away. I constantly feel as though I am terminally ill but continue to live as though I have a million years to do 3 things.

-------------

I am two things: beautiful and smart. I might be some other things as well. I feel that most people I know now do not really know me. It always takes me a year or so to be comfortable enough with someone to say we are really friends. I'm too shy to be quick friends with anyone. Shyness is most of it, but the other most of it is that I feel that it is disingenuous to become close friends with someone you just met. I've never done it, but I feel like a loser constantly because I see perfectly normal people doing it all the time. This is how I felt at Rutgers for a long time. Then I became friends with Holly and she was awesome. I could never really become friends with her friends though. Maybe I'm just picky. But then I've chosen friends who turn out to be complete assholes. But apparently that had nothing to do with me.

--------------

This morning I stabbed my eye with mascara. Later, my eye had an episode.
--------------

Hopefully Dave gets off work on time so we can go to MAX!!! I love that plaaaaaaaaace

Not interested.

2010-07-13T21:01:00.003-04:00

I'm at the homes. I'm bored. Restless. Feel like doing drugs. That would be stupid because I might lose my job that way. Canker sore makes me sad. US mail makes me mad.

I am skinny but I feel like a fat.
I have a headache because I finally slept in air conditioning.
People have weird problems.
I want to sleep in the bed.
I want to do hugs, not drugs.
I want to do hugs all night in the bed!
I want to go to the beach again.
I want to not work!

I feel like I don't know any of my friends anymore. Everyone is so far away. And I so suck at making new friends.

Up on the Grand CC

2010-07-11T22:44:00.002-04:00

I have this disorder where I constantly think I have the hi5.

It's really upsetting. I was at Planned Parenthood in February, I think, and they tested me then and I was clean. I got very sick in April or May and blood tests were done at the hospital and I can only assume that's something they would test for.

Yet, here are the facts:

I had a fever of unknown origin for 13-15 days a couple months ago. That's fucked up. My knee joints are so fucked; they're sore all the time and I feel like a fat 80 year-old (and trust me, I know how they feel; they tell me every day), and now I have spreading canker sores in my mouth that hurt like the meanest motherfucker around. At the moment, I have 1 healing and two actively attacking. I haven't had a canker sore since I had braces and ate too much candy. People keep telling me it's stress (because yeah, I tell everyone. And I make them look at them. I don't know if this is something I would have done a year ago. I don't know anything about me now), a change in schedule. I work two tour 2s (9am - 9pm) and a tour 3 (9pm - 9am). and sometimes I work in the Bronx like I did today. I used to be tough. WTF.

My bike is at Dave's apartment and he's mandated. I had a lady who was bitten by a dog with the hi5 today. I'm gonna sleep in my home. This will only be my bed for a couple weeks. Then I share a bed. Oh, mouth pain.

Still afraid of flying, but with you I'd die today

Moving again

2010-07-04T18:58:00.002-04:00

At least I'm getting an early start this time. Move in date: August 1st!

Oh, how many documents I have!

Age begets sadness

2010-07-04T13:25:00.002-04:00

I woke up crying this morning.

I had a dream in which I was in a field that looked like something from Braveheart with a man with short, curly, blond hair who was showing me how to hunt buffalo. The hunter was wearing a blue hooded sweatshirt. He had something of a spear gun to hunt buffalo. He got one in his sights and pulled the trigger. The spear came shooting out of a specially crafted hole in the shoulder of his sweatshirt, like he was part of the gun. The buffalo, only a few feet from the boulder we were standing behind, reared up on his back legs in pain. The hunter said to me, This is when you learn to run. We ran into a bathroom that at first resembled the one in my childhood home. The door doesn't close all the way and after looking at the hunter for confirmation that everything was OK for now, I looked down through the crack the door left between it and the jamb, and I saw Chazy. I reached through the space and picked him up. I set him down again on the floor and pet him. He looked up and me so I picked him up and held him. The buffalo came through the door and stood above us. I kissed Chazy's face and handed him off to the buffalo, who floated off into the field.

That was the saddest dream I've had in a while. I'm still crying about it.

In other sad news, I'm selling my electric guitar and amp. Lots of memories and stickers there. Whatever.

Chazy

2010-06-13T17:41:00.003-04:00

Dear Chazy,

I loved you and I'm sorry.

I loved you for no reason. I loved you because you needed me to. Because you had no one else, nowhere else. Because it was me or a Lethal+ injection. I loved you because you were a runt. You were adorable. Courtney hated your meow, and at times it annoyed the shit out of me, but it grew on me. I loved the way you sat crooked. I loved your cute face. The way you stood up like a prairie dog. The way you sat right on my chest with your fur in my face so I had to push you off, just to have you come back and curl up on my stomach. I loved when I'd find you in my backpack or suitcase or my shoes or the bathtub. The way you'd put your face in a candle and squint when you found out it was hot. The way you let us give you Mardi Gras beads and you wore them for hours. I loved how you put up with more of our shit than we did of yours. Fuck Courtney for hating you. You were the sweetest and everyone who matters loved you. I loved you because I needed to. I loved you when I brought you up the stairs to the 10th floor on Easton Ave zipped up in my sweatshirt. I loved you the last time I said goodbye to you on the floor in Miami. I loved you and I missed you since then.

I'm sorry that I was sometimes mean to you. I had my problems, but you were never one of them. I'm sorry we had to separate, although I think it was the best thing for you. I think you liked Miami and Loki and Sammy and my parents. Most of all I'm sorry that we didn't get to see each other one last time.

I love you and I'm glad you got to see most of the East Coast in your short little life :) You were my best and only friend for a good long time. It was just us. We were a little team.

Thank you to everyone who helped me with Chazy.

I love you, little dude. My Chaz face. I'll miss you.

Settling

2010-06-13T17:30:00.002-04:00

I'm starting to think I don't care if people think I'm an asshole. I'm tired of being nice to everyone so that I'm well liked; it's idiotic.

Being nice to everyone you meet and will have some sort of future with (i.e. co-workers, friends of close friends/boyfriends, roommates) is completely selfish, yet taxing. Being nice to people that it is unlikely you will have any future with (i.e. patients and their families, people on the streets, in stores) is fun. You only have to deal with them for a short period of time and if you make them happy for that period of time, things go nice and smoothly and it's over and everyone's OK. With the first set of people, I'm nice so they like me and they will tell other people that I'm cool and therefore, historically, co-workers (etc) have had almost no problems with me and everyone's gotten along. I, however, am tense almost all the time around certain people. I don't say anything if I don't like something they do or whatever and yahhhh OK i'm done this is tiring.

I just told my roommate that he needs to take his hair out of the drain when he's done showering. He was like uhhh yeah. He was weird about it. I don't care.

I think you get me, little world.

Saturday

2010-05-15T12:44:00.002-04:00

I like looking out the window
I like looking at the trees and the project buildings through the frame of aluminum, caulk and dirt
The trees so tall
now green and brightened by sun

I see my shit on the windowsill and it begins to mean something once again.
You bring back my sight
My vision's been restored
Sweet breeze, what you do

it's Clarity and Grace I've found.

Dreams in the Jeep
Black back in the city
that was The End

Like, Sevilla has no dice for me.

unfair shallot

2010-01-07T21:26:00.002-05:00

I find I find nothing to be real. Nothing ever seems that way to me. I seem to think everything is a joke. There are no consequences, nothing to consider.

I've been walking you home for years. Years and years in my mind down the drive unnamed. Unnamed but not unlined. It's lined with Royal Palms and pink sidewalks and not anybody walking anyone home along it.

How do you define a shallot as unfair?

Bye

2009-12-28T14:57:00.002-05:00

i fucking want to kill her. i hate this bitch. she's a selfish, uptight, ugly cunt.

I had an awesome time in Miami. I miss that place like nothing else imaginable. Hate on it all you want; I was done doing that years ago. Miami means more to me than most other things probably because it was the backdrop for all of it. For all of 20 years and then some. It holds the few secrets I have.

I'm really sad Chazy had to stay home. That's OK - he'll be happier. I love that little annoying shit, though and I'm going to miss him as long as we are apart. We've been through a lot together, actually. He's my little dude. It was only us for a while.

suck my dick snow

2009-12-19T15:59:00.002-05:00

Does this place really exist? IS THIS PLACE REAL

Only in Bay Ridge, though. Fuuuuck. I'm so sad my flight got canceled. I was supposed to leave for Miami tomorrow afternoon and come back next Sunday afternoon. Now I leave on Christmas Eve and come back next Sunday afternoon :( Now I'm stuck in New York without work because I gave all my tours away. I guess I could pick up in Brooklyn and maybe I will but it all seems extremely unappetizing. Speaking of appetizing - I was looking forward to free food for a week, but I guess I'll only get it for a few days. Gawd I miss Miami and I just want to go back and lay in a sun that actually works

listening listening
listening
listening

are you listening
is listening something you do
i listen
i listen

I hate that it's snowing and there is a perfectly good establishment to eat dinner at across the street but I can't go there because I'll be the cause of a disgusting testosterone-fueled fight.

You don't cry and you haven't seen me cry bitch I don't cry

Anyway,

2009-12-14T12:34:00.002-05:00

Amanda totes has a boyfriend. I could easily choose not to put that information on the Internet, but I really have nothing post-worthy these days so there you go.

I don't know how to tell people shit like that. I'm not normally in a situation in which I need to. I told my mother. That was hard. My parents are super weird about that, though. Kay I'm like totes gonna get my nails done and go to the gym and take a shower and go shoppingggg. For real that's actually what I'm going to do but it's not as stupid as it sounds. I need more long-sleeved shirts for under my uniform because wearing that shit too many days is gross. Do you know the shit I come into contact with every time I work? Totes gross. Also I'm back to almost 130 pounds and that's also gross.

Also - I've seen so many Binder & Binder commercials it's embarrassing.

After all this.

2009-12-10T18:21:00.002-05:00

How did I end up with this life?

It's fucking awesome.

I don't really believe in anything, but if I were to, I guess I'd say I believe that good things really do come to those who wait. Or maybe I just got lucky.

I'm twenty-three years old, and I guess I did something right.

Yeah,

2009-12-07T21:47:00.001-05:00

except I never got arrested for any of the things I've done.
and I'm still allowed to go to Canada.