Saturday, January 17, 2009
Sunday, December 28, 2008
you found me
I found God
on the corner of First and Amistad
Where the west
was all but won
All along
Smoking his last cigarette
I said, where've you been?
He said, ask anything.
Where were you?
When everything was falling apart.
All my days spent by the telephone.
And all I needed was a call
It never came
To the corner of First and Amistad
Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me
Lying on the floor, surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late.
You found me, you found me.
But in the end
Everyone ends up alone
Losing hope
The only one who's ever known
Who I am, Who I'm not, Who I want to be
No way to know
How long she will be next to me
Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me
Lying on the floor, surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late.
You found me, you found me.
I've been calling for years and years
and you've never left me no messages
Never sent me no letters
Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me
Lying on the floor, surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late.
You found me, you found me.
Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me
Lying on the floor, surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late.
You found me, you found me.
on the corner of First and Amistad
Where the west
was all but won
All along
Smoking his last cigarette
I said, where've you been?
He said, ask anything.
Where were you?
When everything was falling apart.
All my days spent by the telephone.
And all I needed was a call
It never came
To the corner of First and Amistad
Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me
Lying on the floor, surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late.
You found me, you found me.
But in the end
Everyone ends up alone
Losing hope
The only one who's ever known
Who I am, Who I'm not, Who I want to be
No way to know
How long she will be next to me
Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me
Lying on the floor, surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late.
You found me, you found me.
I've been calling for years and years
and you've never left me no messages
Never sent me no letters
Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me
Lying on the floor, surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late.
You found me, you found me.
Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me
Lying on the floor, surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late.
You found me, you found me.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
do you imagine your sufferings to be less because you love truth, beauty?
for christmas, all i want is a future.
someone fucking tell me what to do with my life.
kthanxbai.
someone fucking tell me what to do with my life.
kthanxbai.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
science of sleep
the last time i was not tired was fifth grade. i was just your typical ten year old: i had braces and glasses, i had crushes and cafeteria woes, i had the backstreet boys and the babysitters club. oh, and i had insomnia.
i can remember the day after my first sleepless night, standing on the black top (the play ground was reserved for "grade k" only), eating my snack (probably sliced apples or one of those handipack crackers with the spreadable orange cheese [yum!!]), waiting for my turn to jump rope (i could never do double dutch) and feeling unstoppable.
i now know that the accurate description for the condition is: manic.
i can remember looking around and laughing at everyone else on the inside. looking at them, the silly sleep-requiring creatures! didn't they realize how much they missed when their eyes were closed? i barely wanted to even blink, i was so afraid i'd let my opportunity for Greatness pass me by! they thought sleep was necessary. i saw myself as proof that it wasn't. look at me! i didn't sleep last night, and i'm fine. pssh.
i missed having dreams, though.
it lasted pretty much the entire school year, but its novelty had dissipated by december. usually i stayed in my room until the green glow of my digital clock read 11:00, and then i'd run downstairs to my parents' room (i'm sure they loved this) and announced with a whine and a barefooted stomp "i can't sleeeee-eeeeeeep!" at first they took pity, turning on the bedside lamp and folding me between them. They rubbed my back and let me watch the late night news with them in their feather soft king sized bed. One would rub my back while the other would hold my hand. After my thirty minutes of what i can only describe as womb-like safety, i would return to my master bedroom, sip some chamomile, and relax to some pachelbel and puccini. i wrote, some.
then patience wore thin. i was allowed one visit to vent, in the threshold of the doorway, then ordered back upstairs. they weren't being mean - they were just establishing boundaries and tired. they were mere mortals, after all - diurnal organisms desiring sleep. i, however, sat upright in my princess bed with all of my lights on, listening to everclear and eating saltine crackers (they are still a major comfort food for me).
in school i began to cry. my mind was so mixed up. sometime in the spring, the teacher sent a note home to my mother, suggesting that i speak with the school guidance counselor. i was relieved when i secretly read it on the bus on the way home after school - the guidance counselor! i knew where she was in the building - there was a sign in all caps on her office door. from a distance, it looked comfortable; it was one of the few rooms that had carpeting and wallpaper instead of the institutional speckled tile floor and spearmint green and white concrete cinderblock walls. i always wondered what she did all day. now i knew: she could help me sleep! i didn't understand puberty yet, but i figured my sleeplessness must be it and that i was just one of the first kids in my class to start going through it. hah.
i showed my mom the note, beaming, thinking she would be so happy. why hadn't she thought of it?! the guidance counselor! months now i had had this problem, and the whole time, the solution was the oasis right at the end of the hall!
oh. ohhhh, i was wrong.
my mom took the note as a personal affront to her parenting skills and i was in deep shit. how dare i cry at school? only kids with messed up home lives ever cried in school. she told me i was an embarrassment, and that next time i felt like i was going to cry i should remember that. as if i wasnt already mortified enough, right?
i never went to the guidance counselor. my teacher suspected i never gave my mom the note. i cried myself to sleep. and returned to normal.
hah.
i can remember the day after my first sleepless night, standing on the black top (the play ground was reserved for "grade k" only), eating my snack (probably sliced apples or one of those handipack crackers with the spreadable orange cheese [yum!!]), waiting for my turn to jump rope (i could never do double dutch) and feeling unstoppable.
i now know that the accurate description for the condition is: manic.
i can remember looking around and laughing at everyone else on the inside. looking at them, the silly sleep-requiring creatures! didn't they realize how much they missed when their eyes were closed? i barely wanted to even blink, i was so afraid i'd let my opportunity for Greatness pass me by! they thought sleep was necessary. i saw myself as proof that it wasn't. look at me! i didn't sleep last night, and i'm fine. pssh.
i missed having dreams, though.
it lasted pretty much the entire school year, but its novelty had dissipated by december. usually i stayed in my room until the green glow of my digital clock read 11:00, and then i'd run downstairs to my parents' room (i'm sure they loved this) and announced with a whine and a barefooted stomp "i can't sleeeee-eeeeeeep!" at first they took pity, turning on the bedside lamp and folding me between them. They rubbed my back and let me watch the late night news with them in their feather soft king sized bed. One would rub my back while the other would hold my hand. After my thirty minutes of what i can only describe as womb-like safety, i would return to my master bedroom, sip some chamomile, and relax to some pachelbel and puccini. i wrote, some.
then patience wore thin. i was allowed one visit to vent, in the threshold of the doorway, then ordered back upstairs. they weren't being mean - they were just establishing boundaries and tired. they were mere mortals, after all - diurnal organisms desiring sleep. i, however, sat upright in my princess bed with all of my lights on, listening to everclear and eating saltine crackers (they are still a major comfort food for me).
in school i began to cry. my mind was so mixed up. sometime in the spring, the teacher sent a note home to my mother, suggesting that i speak with the school guidance counselor. i was relieved when i secretly read it on the bus on the way home after school - the guidance counselor! i knew where she was in the building - there was a sign in all caps on her office door. from a distance, it looked comfortable; it was one of the few rooms that had carpeting and wallpaper instead of the institutional speckled tile floor and spearmint green and white concrete cinderblock walls. i always wondered what she did all day. now i knew: she could help me sleep! i didn't understand puberty yet, but i figured my sleeplessness must be it and that i was just one of the first kids in my class to start going through it. hah.
i showed my mom the note, beaming, thinking she would be so happy. why hadn't she thought of it?! the guidance counselor! months now i had had this problem, and the whole time, the solution was the oasis right at the end of the hall!
oh. ohhhh, i was wrong.
my mom took the note as a personal affront to her parenting skills and i was in deep shit. how dare i cry at school? only kids with messed up home lives ever cried in school. she told me i was an embarrassment, and that next time i felt like i was going to cry i should remember that. as if i wasnt already mortified enough, right?
i never went to the guidance counselor. my teacher suspected i never gave my mom the note. i cried myself to sleep. and returned to normal.
hah.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
i don't think i think enough
i wonder how long he's known. something i said spurred it, i'm sure. he called me last week on more than a single consecutive day. I enjoy talking and the sound of my voice, but i would never expect another person to voluntarily listen to my mindless ramblings and yet -- here was proof!
even crazier is the fact that i picked up the phone and answered it instead of letting it ring like always.
i almost feel bad, really. like i'm wasting his time. like i should warn him, since no one else has yet. how does one gracefully go about it? dashing hopes, shattering reality?
it's for his own good, i should remind you.
last year when A was mildly interested, i recoiled like a turtle in its shell. stopped returning calls and acknowledging the taps on the glass of my display case. not wanting to bring any attention to myself, i stayed put until gradually he forgot about me or cognitively refused to consider me. whichever came first.
he may have been upset with me for a bit, but i think that's passed now that he's realized i did him a huge favor. we're still friends, he calls me on the mornings of my radio show (never more than one day in a row, so i don't run out of anything to talk about and hopefully don't bore him over the course of our two minute convo).
but to return to the present. any advice? is the ignore tactic okay or have i employed it too often? i don't want him to be mad at me, maybe i should just cut to the chase and explain somehow it's not him it's me.
even crazier is the fact that i picked up the phone and answered it instead of letting it ring like always.
i almost feel bad, really. like i'm wasting his time. like i should warn him, since no one else has yet. how does one gracefully go about it? dashing hopes, shattering reality?
it's for his own good, i should remind you.
last year when A was mildly interested, i recoiled like a turtle in its shell. stopped returning calls and acknowledging the taps on the glass of my display case. not wanting to bring any attention to myself, i stayed put until gradually he forgot about me or cognitively refused to consider me. whichever came first.
he may have been upset with me for a bit, but i think that's passed now that he's realized i did him a huge favor. we're still friends, he calls me on the mornings of my radio show (never more than one day in a row, so i don't run out of anything to talk about and hopefully don't bore him over the course of our two minute convo).
but to return to the present. any advice? is the ignore tactic okay or have i employed it too often? i don't want him to be mad at me, maybe i should just cut to the chase and explain somehow it's not him it's me.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
dependency?
you are sitting next to me and i want so desperately to talk but i am afraid to interrupt your work. instead i sit here typing, wondering. scared. in a good way, but nonetheless. silent fear silences.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
shocked and awed
it's funny how when you start to take care of yourself, others do, too.
there it was, sitting in my inbox on election day, sandwiched in between my nytimes news alerts. my eyes blurred and i told jaime it was there before i even opened it. i started crying because i didn't deserve it. thank you.
communication was the key word you used. i have never been good at that. i tend to bottle up all negative emotions until i physically cannot withstand them any longer and regurgitate them all at the most inconvenient of times. a black hole, it all just gets sucked in until the universe expands and explodes, release a catastrophic amount of energy and black matter. or something like that.
in my family, we talk a lot, but don't communicate anything. passive aggression is the modus operandi. god forbid anyone actually just come out and say what about the other person is currently pissing them off; no, if you don't know, then i'm not going to tell you why i want to strangle you. this is so fucking ridiculously ineffective. i realize that it's probably like this in most families. this is how i comfort myself.
i wish, however, that we communicated better. i appreciate you opening up the lines to me once again. this time, i'm not going to be the passive aggressive bitch i've been raised to be, and instead am going to effectively share my thoughts and feelings, and i hope you will do the same. this way, we save ourselves the awful strain of trying to figure out what on another is not telling us - think of all the energy! time! effort! we are saving!
i can't lose you again. i can't afford to not communicate. this time, i'm not going to binge on my unspoken emotions and thoughts. please don't walk away; i need you to lay it out on the table for me so that i can be sustained off of yours.
there it was, sitting in my inbox on election day, sandwiched in between my nytimes news alerts. my eyes blurred and i told jaime it was there before i even opened it. i started crying because i didn't deserve it. thank you.
communication was the key word you used. i have never been good at that. i tend to bottle up all negative emotions until i physically cannot withstand them any longer and regurgitate them all at the most inconvenient of times. a black hole, it all just gets sucked in until the universe expands and explodes, release a catastrophic amount of energy and black matter. or something like that.
in my family, we talk a lot, but don't communicate anything. passive aggression is the modus operandi. god forbid anyone actually just come out and say what about the other person is currently pissing them off; no, if you don't know, then i'm not going to tell you why i want to strangle you. this is so fucking ridiculously ineffective. i realize that it's probably like this in most families. this is how i comfort myself.
i wish, however, that we communicated better. i appreciate you opening up the lines to me once again. this time, i'm not going to be the passive aggressive bitch i've been raised to be, and instead am going to effectively share my thoughts and feelings, and i hope you will do the same. this way, we save ourselves the awful strain of trying to figure out what on another is not telling us - think of all the energy! time! effort! we are saving!
i can't lose you again. i can't afford to not communicate. this time, i'm not going to binge on my unspoken emotions and thoughts. please don't walk away; i need you to lay it out on the table for me so that i can be sustained off of yours.
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