grrr(l)

i hate working late in the evening until night. I feel like it's such a waste of my day prior to my shift. Too limited to what i can do.
So, i've spent the morning learning how to manuver around the complications of texting with a touch screen phone. S'very difficult for me.
Now, i'm downloading vag rock in hopes to be emotionally sedated by the angry female vocals and relationship-hatred.
Uhhh, i'll let you know how it turns out.
Early 90's riot grrrl is sorta new found for me in my embrace to my feminity.
I feel like wearing light denimn straight legs with a white t-shirt under plaid long-sleeved and converse high tops.
Sigh, still far too long before work. :/

deaf or blind? pft.

Normally, i'll put my iPod on shuffle in hopes that, that miraculous thing will happen where the exact song i need to hear comes on exactly when i need to hear it.
This happens to me quite often but never enough it seems.
Tonight, however, complete success in a most grateful way! See my other blog for details.
I can't help this, through generations (on both sides of the fam fam) of guitar players, pianist and druken singers; the music gene hit me hard. I'd surely die if i didn't have music. It's the only thing (other than writing) that has ever made complete sense in my life and that i've been consistent with my feelings for. A much-coveted goal for me.
I wish everyone could feel this way about something. I know that when i'm at the bottom of my darkest feelings, i always have music and it's never failed me. It kicks my confidence up and it bandaids all of my emotional wounds in ways that i'll never be able to explain with words.
Music accentuates all of my good qualities and i feel very strongly that without music, i'd probably be a shitty person. Not because it's a battle but because music is what humbles me and comforts me when i feel guilty or angry.
I will never be able to fully explain it's meaning in my life but i'll long-wind the hell out of you trying to.
The cheesiest thing i ever told anyone was this: "I bleed music notes".
How terrible is that?
Good lord, i'm such a nerd.

i'm not much but i've got "jazz"

A theraputic hole-in-your-confidence remedy for those who forget their self-value sometimes. Because i think it happens to the very best of you all and i'm not a whole hell of a lot but, i am someone and, i know exactly who i am and exactly who i want to be.
I picked up my journal and wrote down everything i liked about myself and re-read it again and again until i understood what each individual thing truly meant in my life. A firm believer that even the bad qualities of a person are to be loved as it completes them, i think sometimes we have to only think about the good qualities.
The bad qualities may enhance the goodness of the positive ones but, sometimes you just need the brighter colors.
It's a quick fix that doesn't take long and leaves a bit of an impression on you. AND, it's available whenever you need it.
Or, if you're a female, you can just listen to some vag rock and call it a day. That always works.

truth by mistake

In a crazy flurry of words last night, i allowed my pen to blaze across the pages of my own, personal journal. After reading the words formed from my emotional throw up, i realize that my biggest problem really IS my biggest problem. I'm not insecure about who i am, i'm not insecure about what makes me different from eveyrone else, i'm not insecure about the things i truly love; mostly modest. What i'm insecure about is the fact that i never say the things that i should. That i never say the things that i feel. And when i do, i'm unappreciated for them. Not by all persons but, by one in particular.
In a painful, truly crazy emotional state, i wrote:

"I'm spilling my guts on paper and no one sees.

NO ONE.

Why can't i spill my guts in the air?"

It's like really bad indie lyrics but, i understand it exactly, of course i do, i wrote the words.
So what's my problem?
We only live once, right? What the fuck am i doing? What exactly am i hiding from? My words are the things i have that truly define me. I can arrange them and make them whatever i want them to be. Not only that, why am i so afraid of my emotions? Isn't that what makes us truly unique in this universe?
I'm tired of being so frightened. I'm ready to be more than this. Because i am more than this.

The fact is, i'm entirely crazy.

I am a crazy female.
Fortunately, i know who i am and who i want to be.
Unfortunately, i feel i'm nowhere close to becoming the person i see myself growing in to. Not that i'm worried about not becoming her but, you know, when?
I guess it's that mid-20's crisis that seems to ring a familiar bell but, you rarely hear about it.
I wish it was as simple as that God damned Cinderella. Where the fuck is my Fairy Godmother? Pft.
In the mean time, i have music and writing and that keeps me content. It hit me a few months back after buying a Jean-Paul Satre book, that i'm in complete control of whoever i want to be. And it later came to me that the only restaints are mental assuming you have no physical setbacks.
I write about that alot, perhaps not here but in my own, personal journal.
It seems vital to repeat that so when i go back through and read the uncharming things that i encounter in my mental battles, i remember that it's all up to me.
No one can have the best of me.
And so, i end this with;
"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." --Eleanor Roosevelt

The Gloriousness of Cellphones

What ever did we do before we had camera's on our cellphones? Nevermind digital cameras, the fact that you can disguise your picture taking addiction of epically white trash moments like these with your cellphone is unbeatable.
I call this picture, "Look everyone, it's Oprah!"

(click to enlarge)
Very rarely do i eat fast food, especially the notorious McDonalds but, my dear friend talked me into warm cookies and then, BAM! The white trash express rolled it's glorious wheels right across my path.
Don't ever dare tell me that fast food chains do not target people that would drive a stretch limo through a $4 burger drive-thru.
I have pictures to prove it.

You! Shut Your Mouth!

There are few people i truly admire. There are many i respect but, few that i actually, genuinely admire.
Off hand, i can think of 4.
Like a picky gardner, i am.
The one person that truly humbles the pit of my tummy was this woman i worked with at the dreaded Home Depot job a few years back. She was absolutely amazing. She worked two full-time jobs, lost her mom to cancer, her grandmother passed, her sister died (can't recall the cause) and, her brother was a failed suicide; all within a 6 month period. But, every day that she came to work, she came smiling, friendly and, incredibly positive and upbeat.
I asked her once how she did it and she looked me straight in the eyes and said, "only Jesus can put me down". She didn't want pity, she didn't ask for anyone's advice, she didn't even mention it. And, i adored her because it wasn't a situation where you thought, "my problems ain't no thang", it was a situation where you looked at her and wanted to value yourself as much as she valued herself above things that you can't change.
Even as an athiest, her words made me tear up because she truly put herself above life's bullshit and kept her head above water. I've never been that inspired by anyone to stop bitching about my plight. Even now, i still think of her when i'm depressed and channel all of the energy it takes to be in a shitty mood in to my music (equivilant to jesus for moi).
I owe her so much more than a silly blog.

Thoughts that hover above my Rasin Bran Cereal and Figi Bottle

I woke up with my head feeling like someone squeezed a, "feel shitty today" suppository up my ass.
I've found, generally (before i just jinxed it) that when i wake up feeling shitty, my day magically turns in to hyper bliss.
Other than that, eh. Probably just need some postitive interaction?
I can't help but keep wondering when the hell i'm going to snap out of this. Hopefully soon, the dregs of my boredom are gray and cold and mentally defeating.
I wish i could just curl up today and read Moby Dick, that would make me feel all fuzzy and gooey inside.
Ah well, oooooh the pains of growing up!

"Caught in the act of not being awesome"

Soooo, i've decided that i will post no more stupid, lovesick entries here, they will all be in "The Undertow", where they should have been the entire time.
Not that anyone actually reads this riff raff but, just incase you are, you no longer have to read about my emotional state... in my relationship at least.
Like a breath of fresh air or something cliche like that.
Enjoy the clean slate..ish.
So now, a place to be me, entirely, without the static.
Gosh golly.

The GRR factor

Trying to ween myself from a 9 year smoking habit, i find that little things actually do irritate me :/
My boyfriend being of them. I'm so tired of wasting so much mental time on him. I'm not even getting paid for the overtime.
I have so many wonderful qualities and i genuinely like who i am and i'm strong and idependent, so what gives?
My physical journal is like mental torment and my guitar is bringing no comfort. My music, though comforting, just isn't making the cut.
I feel like i should be curled up in a bathroom somewhere drunk and doing heroin or coke. Only because that's how lost i feel, not because i actually have any desire to do that.
Rose is in California until next week and i miss her so much. I can't even imagine what i'm going to do without her when i move to Arizona.
Does life always hurt this bad when it's really happening?
I'm ready to pass this milestone and make it to my next stable footing. This rock is wearing thin and i'm about to crash in to the ocean. I don't know how i'm holding myself so strong, i just keep focusing and giving myself those awful pep talks and keep finding the positive in everything and you know, it's not hard but it sure takes alot of energy.
Sigh.

Hi, my name's Whitney and I'm a "-holic" of some sort

What is it about being in a relationship that makes women so miserably crazy? I'm so tired of being hung up on this. Why can't i just find room for myself and be happy? I hate that i let this plague me so dreadfully. I'm well beyond a point where my heart won't be damaged if something happens. So what now? Why am i clutching this like it's my last breath? I am a whole person outside of this and i can't seem to remember that, EVER. And i'm a great person outside of it. I have everything i want. What is it about love that's so addicting? It's like chocolate, like cigarettes, like alcohol. It's a different kind of high. Everything is a high and all i wanna do is be sober. Just wash myself of everything and not know this awful feeling. When does it get better?

"What if it was everyone... singing to this song?"

Toilet dancing. A new phrase i most recently created. Literally within just seconds.
You see, i fidget on the toilet. It's the strangest thing. I didn't notice it until mid-peepee-dance, pre-toilet sitting. I thought to myself, "Hm, how odd that i shift awkwardly while i'm pissing."
This has no direct effect on my aim, for all those concerned or even still reading this gibberless (oh, that's two phrases!).
I feel odd in my head, most obviously.
This is all a true story, i really do fidget on the toilet.
I live by a paraphrased statement with no direct reference to my 1st created phrase. The first time i read it, i felt that warm gushiness of understanding and relief.
It says;
"Those who dance are considered insane by those who can't hear the music"
It's very true. Those who don't understand me seem to think i'm odd or goofy, i'm really not though. I just have opinions and share things that, though insignificant, are always welcomed... i think?
No matter, i can't explain how that ridiculous quote penetrates my life so deeply. But it is, however, paraphrased from Nietzsche, so perhaps the meaning lies deeper than it's cheeky words and i'm the wiser for understanding it.
Who knows?
Better yet, who cares?

I used to make fun of my mom for liking cheesy things like this:





















but, sadly, i totally get it now...
Of all the weird shit i've been going through lately, nothing has made me feel better like my best friend/extended family.
I don't even have to talk to her about the problem, simply talking to her rids me of whatever emotion is pummeling at me.
At what point did an inner shift take place to where that shit made sense?
I feel like my grandma looking at scripture with animal backgrounds.

Mental dive, there goes my good feeling :/

"One thing you can't hide, is when you're crippled inside"

Are all men terrible people beneath their layers?
Is their nothing at their core other than primitive instincts and the ability to shed thier affection like skin? Why are women so emotional?
Is there some middle ground that i'm simply missing? I don't know how to not feel or think these things. It's all a mess of colors inside my head that i can't seem to decipher and it plagues me constantly and refuses to let up.
The weight of it pushes my relationship futher into the wet sand and i have no ground to sturdy myself on. I'm going down with it and my dignity is at an all time low. I think. That, i'm not so sure of.
But seriously! What the hell is this? Does it ever get easier or do relationships keep running these circles around each other? 'Cause quite honestly, i'm pretty sure i can't handle this much longer. My mental state now relies entirely on the state of my relationship. And i feel pathetic. I'm a strong, opinionated woman but my weakness is the on perosn i love and i care nothing about myself when he's around.
What does one make of that?
AUGH!
Fugg it all!

yes, i LOVE my job!

Sooo, i really like starbucks because this is what i spent an hour and a half of my shift doing.
And since it's supposed to look just like the board on the "Siren's Eye", they didn't care that it took me an hour and a half.

The finale...


























Honestly, Starbucks is the funnest job i've ever had. No one cares what you do as long as you're working when you need to.
Plus, who couldn't love free coffee all day?

upon later review of my poetry

When i write (with a pen), i don't fully realize what i'm writing, it just comes naturally. So when i write poetry, it's like the breaking of a dam concealing all of my emotions. The only part i take control over is making sure my poetry is consistent with the reason i'm writing it.
In "the zone" the other day, i wrote something that blew my mind due to accuracy of it's meaning. To most, it's likely to seem like a metaphor of some kind, but for me, it's an exact interpretation.

"I've built my thoughts between two covers
To shut away and never mutter"

I'm very shy about anything i write and only feel comfortable posting some of it on the internet as i know that no one i know will ever stumble upon it. None of my friends are aware i have a blog and only one person knows i have a Red Bubble page for my poetry and only because he told me about it.
The seams of my writing are all stitched in to this odd, intricate design that no one is meant to ever solve.
I fear this means that no one truly knows me and perhaps it does mean just that but in that case, can anyone ever really know anyone? I mean, the worst of ourselves lives inside of us and only we know that alter-ego entirely.
And it mostly depends on how much you're willing to accept about yourself. So with that in mind, i believe the majority of people live in denial of themselves which never fully allows them to know who they truly are.
I've never really had that problem, i've never had problems admitting my shitty qualities or apologizing for them and i've always been a strong individual.
So my arrogance reigns a bit because it's not difficult for me but in realizing those things that most want to pretend doesn't exist inside of them. In that, i also realize that everyone is arrogant in the things that are simple to them.
So, is it really arrogance? No, it's the common sense of the individual.
MY POINT? There isn't one. I was just excited about my poetry because it's something i've lived by without knowing the words. BIG DEAL as you can clearly see i love to write.

What of this?

Emily Dickinson
Billie Holiday
Smog
Doc Watson
Ralph Stanley

That was my day.
Oh, and Starbucks. As i haven't "blogged" in a bit, i should mention that i was hired at Starbucks and now hold two jobs. Strange contrast between working at Cracker Barrel and Starbucks. Most ironic thing: they're on opposite sides of the freeway.
I.E. one is for country folks and the other for city people.

Stranges emotions are stirred listening to Doc Watson. I feel like every crazy thought and feeling i've ever had are suddenly being validated.


Aaaaaaand to end this;

I reason, earth is short,
And anguish absolute.
And many hurt;
But what of that?

I reason, we could die.
The best vitality
Cannot excel decay;
But what of that?

I reason that in heaven
Somehow, it will be even,
Some new equation given;
But what of that?

So fuck you if you don't like Emily Dickinson.