warning: it's a long one...

I’m at a frustration point. I’m probably the happiest and the angriest that I’ve ever been. I feel fired and fueled up to make changes. At the same time I fear I’m just full of useless “micropunk/nanopunk” sort of rage. I’m on the verge of another birthday, I still haven’t decided what I’m doing with graduate school, and I’m struggling with figuring out who I am in relation to school, work, and my relationships.

I used to be the bend over backwards girl. I used to care what everyone thought. I used to really be there for my friends, putting everything out, putting it all the line, and giving it my all… all the time. And then left me feeling not only burned out because it left little for me, but it also left me angry when it was all just taken for granted or literally taken as just a lie. My gifts, my time, all just a lie, another elaborate scheme – me, a tool. So, I limited the social group and started looking for the people who I felt were truly genuine. And though those I cut away from myself are probably genuine to other people, are probably good people, are probably worthy of my attention – I still can’t bring myself back fully in to the fold. I just feel myself get angry when they reach out.

I find this internal argument hard to analyze or deal with. I feel guilt and relief to not have these people in my life even though I bump in to them on a daily basis. I feel relief in the fact that I don’t have to acknowledge them with a “hello” and they don’t have to fake their friendships with me. And that’s how I feel – I feel used to the point that it feels like that past was all a sham.

Anger in the fact that things have changed, that what was once, is no longer, that everything can be redefined in hindsight.

Happiness in the way that the world feels magical new, reinvented, fresh, that everything is here to be loved and discovered.

I may regret this later.. but here goes anyways

Growing up in Central Oregon as the child of an 60 yr old who grew up there of a now dead old grandfather who basically grew up there as an old west doctor... blah blah blah.. nothing cracks me up more, bugs me more, pisses me off, etc etc as "new bend" blood.

http://benditees.blogspot.com/ <-- is an example of such.

VIP tickets does not equal instant backstage - the only thing a vip ticket in bend gets you (well, see previous post).
Secondly, Patron is not good tequila they just spend a lot of money on U.S. marketing (go, ask any mexican).

I liked Bend before it was Portland's hidden getaway, before half of California moved there, before Montana decided to transplant in... Nothing chaps me more than people touting that they're local when they've been there for two years. Nothing chaps me more than when I watch sacred grounds descrated, houses built on only campsites, assholes driving giant pick-up trucks/hummers/blah blah.

Fuck Pronghorn.

And now for something completely different... like happy thoughts.

List of things accomplished ....

~ in the last few days!

1. Paid my "disobey of a traffic device" fine - Yes-sir-eee that's $242 that I won't be seeing ever again.
2. Went to see Ween in Bend w/ some VIP passes.
a.) VIP passes = free food that I couldn't eat, shitty beer, hot wine (wtf), ... two words: Super Lame
b.) Ween = just another band getting high and doing the "jam" band sound seen
c.) Who knew that frat boys and hippies might actually agree on something.
Note: I will admit that mutilated lips is one of my all time favorite make-out songs (and yes - It's courtesy of Ween).
3. Saw my favorite FDR look-a-like on Monroe for lunch. I couldn't stop staring. What's wrong with me!?
4.. Proceeded to find FDR look-a-like's vehicle and like a stalker got his lic plate number.
5. Text mesaged everyone about my craziness.
6. Gained weight - Avoided Excercise - Obsessed about my Ex - Found public Air Conditioning...
7. Sat around and regretted not saying hello to FDR look-a-like. I only ever see him by chance.

Beyond Busy

Filling my days with activities, doing everything in moderation, driving more than I'd like to admit, cycling when it is possible. Will be back when it isn't so bloody hot - If you want to meet up with me - I'll be the girl in the movie theatre from noon to 9 somewhere alone in the back. Ack.

Happy and Sober in the Midvalley

DaVinci Days are in full swing. Went down to see the Kinetic Sculptures and now I've set my head to making one for next year. Wandered around with my hand wrapped around another, hands that attach to giggles, to me, to him. It's nice to have a supportive person around even if we only see each other when the schedules finally meet.

in the middle of my heart there is a void

I went running and I didn’t stop until my head hurt and my nose ran… I ran till I collapsed in the green grass of a soccer field and then I lay there… and let it rain. And I let those thick heavy rain drops, those tears of July, those caresses of summer wash over me.

I hate what you did. And even more I hate what I did. The summer reveals a million reminders of you, us, of nearly a year since it really fell apart. And I became what you wanted and what I fought after we were all said and done. And then yesterday, I said, “enough.”

I went running this morning and I didn’t stop till I had made up my mind that the pain was enough, that it was o.k. to cry with the rest of the world. Wet, I came home, and I boxed you up, hid you away, returned back to where you came from.

In Summary

Today has been a strange day. Strange dude smoking cigs outside my window - I run out for coffee I bump in to him, I change up the schedule, eventually I bump in to him... Now he's standing outside, smoking, looking around, pacing, .... creeps my shit out. Strange phone calls, strange stories,.... Going sober and nobody seemed to notice it today. Out at the bar (getting food) everyone keeps pouring, offering, questioning,... And I drink my flavored water and smile. I feel that this may be a lonely process. Bleh.

The Girl Has Problems Bob.

Woke up with a headache this morning. Swung my legs over the bed and my head swam with that warm throbbing feeling of a migraine. I vomited, hung my head over the bathtub, and called in sick to work. I just want to tell my body, “fuck you very much.”
Kicked it in bed till 3 pm and then finally decided to chug more pills and get outside. Pedaled my ass to sit around and stare at faces. I catch myself nodding at the right moments, smiling when I should smile, I’m looking for the cue cards. We’re framed by grass in a flower box and the sun is just right. My migraine finally fades away. So, we said our goodbyes and I pedaled down to the liquor store and I bought a fifth and made some calls. On the street - as I pedaled away a bum says, “hello.” I don’t stop for him I just shout, “hey” as I ride by. I call work and tell them I’ll be in tomorrow and then I open the fifth and wait for the phone ring.

My father would call this functional alcoholism. My friends would say I’m just in college. I feel a ten foot wall between me and the world, but I just don’t have it in me to scale it. I just wait for the phone to ring.

Riding isn't always inspirational

Went for a ride at 5am this morning. Went through all the sleeping neighborhoods and passed a few gutter bunnies on my way. Waved hello when I could and then pushed my way out to bellfountain. Cruised around lost in my thoughts till my legs started burning -- Decided to head back before I bonked. Came back in to Corvallis just as things were picking up. Stopped off for a caffeine fix, but decided on tea instead. Missing all the elements that have moved away, happy to see the students gone, wishing for the rain,… head full of contradictions.

Tomorrow: Another bike ride, running up and down the soccer fields to spare my knees, packing up the super hero costume and heading for sunnier terrain.

Still Sitting Here

I used to write all the time. I used to pour my heart out and then some more and at night I’d wonder who was reading and fill my head with regret. Regrets keep swimming up around my feet, following me like shadows in my dreams, haunting me in the shower at 7am. I keep dreaming of airports and missed connections. I keep dreaming about what it was like …. before we left, before we tried, before our best was really just our worst.

image test

The first post....

The first post is never impressive, or remarkable, or read, or loved,... it doesn't inspire. It isn't creative. It's just here as a first post, a forgotton moment, a sad little bit of text that will someday fade away.