I've seen ladies fairer

Every time i listen to "She's a Rainbow" by the Rolling Stones, i feel there is supposed to be some hidden message to self-enlightenment. Each time the song ends, i'm left hanging with penetrating suspicion that i might be crazy.

yeah

The days are blending together in pleasant shades. I'm beginning to feel better. Better, not great.

yeah, you make me feel like a natural woman

What is it about Aretha Franklin that shatters every conviction of craziness?? Between Aretha and Etta, i can't say that i feel nearly as womanly-crazy. It's not only their word's and harmonies but their voices just penetrate every dark emotion and flood it with sunlight and the most positive of energy. I think i'd be less of a woman without them.

Waiting for the Revolution

People are shit. Blackened souls that wander through life with no concept of what it is to be genuine or even courteous. The world leaves behind no footprint for these people, only scars. This breed of human is dominating the majority of people and tarnishing any hopes of significant change in the near future. Kwame Anthony Appiah is correct in his idea of a difficult co-existence between those other than family. We must evolve and learn to be courteous - learn to love each other or at least care. But people are shit people don't care. Behind every gesture remains a selfish motive. There is no way to pluck this weed from humanity - it simply is. But there are ways to work against it - to work against error. To evolve in to something greater. But there is no hint of change in anything i see and everyday i lose a little more faith in the decency of people. I cannot accept this. I want to grow past this and accept all things but this, this i cannot accept. What is it that's so rotten at the core of the human being?
Where is god? Where is an answer? What's the point of consciousness if you play to your weaker instincts? We are able to grow by choice and yet, we give in to our demons. I wish i could scream out every awful color that's painted my heart black but there are no words to express the pain i feel.
In the end, i simply shake my head and decide, "i do not belong in this generation".
Where is everyone?
Where are the Abbie Hoffman's? Where are the Martin Luther King Jr's? Where are Walt Whitman's? Where is Mumia Abu-Jamal's? Where are the Hunter S. Thompson's?
Where are they Robert Kennedy's - the John Lennon's - the Socrates' - the George Harrison's? Where the fuck are all the decent people who fight publicly against what has now been created in the absence of the greats?
It's like people gave up on themselves in exchange for... for what?
There is life all around me but mostly, i just feel empty.
I know i'm not alone in these feelings and i know i'm not alone in the thirst for change.
"I'd love to change the world, but i don't know what to do"

thanks eve

What's another word for P.M.S.? Oh, bitch :/

Plaguing Thoughts

Are people all over the world lonely? With my thoughts built amongst the pillars of philosophy - everything must be determined - must be explained - must be entirely examined: to it's tiniest fragments. The marrow of my existence lies in analyzing EVERYTHING. I have so much growing up to do. I have yet to outgrow my disgust in human beings. Did all great thinkers and philosophers battle this as i do now? I want to accept this all, i do but, it's not so simple as wanting. It's understanding and i do not. I do not understand lack of common courtesy - lack of concern - lack of manners - lack of accepting (a failure of my own). I find disgust in myself but i constantly work at overcoming what makes my stomach churn. Why do people not work at being better people? Why are most people entirely self-centered? We can all be, sure but, why is everyone's basis of comparison of their own stature? How do we do right by everyone while still doing right by our selves?
There is no perfect person but their are ideal standards that can be widely accepted. And they start with understanding. And here i am back at my own front door. How do i get in? :(

The Fab Two

At a constant battle for first between George Harrison and John Lennon - i've found that i can only love them equally. For George was truly a great human being - as genuine as they come and John Lennon was truly a great composer/songwriter and put his heart in to the good of all people and all he spoke of. But here i am now and George Harrison is strumming the strings to my heart. Could anything ever be as lovely as hearing a song you need to uplift dying spirits? I think not... no.

Oh! I get it now!

I discovered, sitting in a stiff room with fellow-food-handling-card-test-takers, that life is a dark comedy. It's true, if you're not able to laugh at yourself, life is going to be a lot longer than you'd like for it to be.
There i sat, 25 years old, amongst other mid-twenty year olds who've so far wasted their time and done nothing that they've wanted to with their life.
I can't really explain the humor in it but, it's there.
Regardless, in my small experience of some divine moment that shifted me, i kind of like that i don't know whats going to be of me, even just a year from now. This is the life i chose and for better or worse, i'm the lead role and instead of whining, i could be doing a lot better things with my time. i certainly have plenty of it seeing as i haven't really done anything else memorable. Just a year and a half ago, i would ride random public transportation routes just to people watch so i could write stories about the people i saw. What happened to that?
Oh, i moved from Dallas. But Phoenix has public transportation as well. They also have plenty of places to do volunteer work. They also have poetry readings and book clubs and plenty of other nerdy activities to preoccupy those who feel lost and confused. While all feelings are fleeting and i submit myself to temporary pleasures - it seems quite fitting that i live in a place where they are so many different things to choose from. And i've chosen to sit and miss my friends and family.
Excuse the incoherent babbling, in all the excitement of watching white trash take 45 minutes on a 25 question multiple-choice test, i realized that at least i have a good head on my shoulders and, buried somewhere deep inside of me lies the optimism that i've always clung to. It just took a bit of awkward humor to awaken it.
Finally. Ja-heeze!

another point for the europeans

I believe i have found a book that will change a lot of things for me. "Resistance, Rebellion and Death" by Albert Camus. I found the book at random during an intense browse of the philosophy section at my favorite used bookstore. Crappy, frayed edges always catch my attention as it often means the books were once well-loved or read many times. I shuffled the pages, a few things caught my eye so, i stacked it on top of my other books.
Today, i curled up on the couch with my favorite blanket and my book-of-choice, after much deliberation, and felt my heart fall through the couch a page and a half in to "Letters to a German Friend".
The depth at which he writes is, of it's own, incredibly intense. But, the love he has for his country is illuminated across the pages and in thought, i considered that i bare no true love for my country... and it saddens me. I could never write of America with great passion for, i do not believe in everything we do or how we came to be. I do not hate my country, i am grateful for many things that my country offers me but, i want to LOVE my country. I want it to be part of who i am. I want to be proud of it. I want to bask in all of it's colors. And i do not.
Albert Camus has won my heart in a mere 500 words and my country has won nothing in 25 years.

Stuck inside of Phoenix with the Dallas blues again.

An avid supporter of "cruising around", i am never without my beloved ipod. Any missed turn, any "long-cut" is like a fresh blanket out of the dryer in the middle of a blizzard. Stress i've known has always been alleviated by a long, aimless drive. I suppose this derives from spending most of my teenage years being grounded and having my family errands as my only form of freedom. At which point i'd take the longest route possible to and from my destination.
The only unsettling feeling is the pitch black sensation that sinks in my stomach and spreads out inside of me when i turn around and head back home.
Today's drive took me past mountains that hugged the road and seemed to curve out endlessly across the lip of the sky. The litter of outlet malls and fast-food chains filtered out as cacti and sandy hills began to trickle in. Not to be compared to the big luscious, earthy hills of Texas flooded with trees and wild flowers but, a beauty in it's own right. My longing for Texas has subsided a bit but I can still feel part of myself not completely here.
This is why people never move to places far away from home where they know no one. But, regardless of my outer demeanor, I am still fighting against everything i feel growing brown and neutral inside of me. The numbing sensation of the days bleeding out in to one another is somewhat kind but they bring with them a slight pessimism. It has not yet overshadowed the optimistic glow of who i know i am but, unless i keep wearing myself out against the daily battles - it will drown me.
I was not raised to give up on myself and i have not forgotten those values. But, when does it get easier and what am i not throwing enough effort at?

i'd like my solitude with extra room, please.

Blank space only reminds me that i'm not writing - not taking charge of what i want to do with my life. I hate working directly with people all day long. I hate seeing the same people everyday and plastering a stupid smile on my face so that i might one day, eventually, be able to mingle with them without hesitation. Working directly with people is a form of human practice. I've come to the conclusion that if it doesn't feel "natural", it isn't.
Take Eric, for example. A customer i see everyday i work. I hate Eric. He reminds me why i do not like people. He's tall and wide and hopelessly uncharismatic. He reminds me why i hate my job. He's a boring man that orders the same drink everyday. A venti Americano with extra room. His eyebrows fall over his eyes like fat, lazy caterpillars and his facial hair exceeds the length of what's appropriate for any man his age. He's big and fat and the fact that his shirts lack grease stains is a bit of a shocker. He closes his eyes when he talks to people and he reads from a Nook. Everything about him irritates me. His jokes are miserable and his face is rosy and fleshy.
Everyday i see him, it reminds me that i'm not doing shit with my life... just like blank pages.

Cheers

I like how he forgets to check his pockets before he does laundry, so when i take clothes out of the dryer - i find crunchy, wrinkly latex gloves hidden in the warm clothes. ♥

Black Happiness

I think i've entered some dark portal of my mind. My sarcasm has turned to cynicism and whatever scrap i was clinging to of the person i was prior to this one seems to have deteriorated. i can't really say i'm unhappy nor can i say that i'm happy. I'm pretty numb to everything - no satisfaction to be had. I've readjusted my point of view and still have only stayed "steady" by the skin of my teeth.
Each day berates my optimism with a new enigma. My time is pressed between frustration and repression and the only benefit of being conscious is that at the end of the day, i can elude it all by sleep.
I can't say that i'm horribly depressed but it seems that all creative apertures have been sealed. I have no problem waiting but the weight of the days cumber me with more conflicting thoughts. I truly feel as if i'm losing my mind. The only remedy is dark folk music filled with black happiness and dark, cheeky harmonies.
It's all temporary but the wait is brutal.

Musical Earmuffs

There's nothing in the world to lick your wounds like fresh music to your ears. Lately, i've been listening to music with a lot of seemingly uncoordinated noise - it seems to tickle the nerves of my utter confusion in my own life. It soothes them in a way nothing else has dared attempt. There's always an underlying melodic phrase of chords being played beneath the layers of noise that's incredibly beautiful and ties the rest of the noise together.
If only i could just tune everything else out and listen to this all day, i'd be much better off.
I really am starting to dislike people :/

How the hell do people do this?

Is there some secret i'm missing when it comes to men and women?
All of these years, i've studied up on man-code and learned how to participate in what they do just to be around them because i like men, they're interesting and fascinating. But here i've found the one i can't quite understand. The one i can't bombard with questions, the one that isn't like all the other ones or much like me for that matter. Part of me rejoices while the other part scratches it's head in frustration. It's like a complicated math problem. Add here, subtract there, whoops, erase this, multiply this, divide that until the scramble of numbers and letters and random punctuations are all so deeply encoded you just throw your hands up. The problem with women is that we're all helpers. We all want to find a problem so we can fix it. We never think that we can be the problem because we're constantly trying to help fix a problem. The problem with men is that they don't want help. We're constantly trying to construct them in to creatures we can co-exist with thinking all along that's what they want but, it's not. They just want to be left alone, only to dabble in the realm of affection with their mate when it suits them.
It's hard to accept that this is how life works. How people in general work. No one is right and no one is wrong, we're simply doing what's best for our individual selves, right? So why do we invest so much time and effort in to our relationships? Each companion trying to help shape the other one in to a suitable creature?
Has anyone ever found a perfect someone?
Here i am, always talking about how much i love flaws until i realize that i'm deeply wounded by some of them. How do we not take things personally in our personal relationships?
How the fuck does this all work?

Pinned to Texas

My body type is as follows:

5'2.5
Breast L-XL
Waist M
Hips L

How do you buy clothes for that? Safety pins are a big-breasted girl's best friend when it comes to button-up blouses.
People here (in Arizona) don't share my curves though...
That being said, i have realized that i'm actually proud to be from Texas... land of curvy, beautiful, flawed women. Yes, i said it. All of my years of bitching and complaining about the place has turned in to random longings for places i used to go. The lakes, the big empty fields, the big 100-year-old trees, even the conservative friendly people. Manners and handshakes are all part of Texas culture, something to be missed in the dregs of the sand.
Arizona, on the other hand... there's the apparent staring, blatant oblivion in the presence of others talking, no "excuse me" this or "pardon me" that. All the people here seem to have taken some course on the omission of manners and the disregarding of other's present. It's not a miserable place, just a lonely one. One where you come to be ignored and forgotten by the rest of the world. A place to hide, really.
On the other hand, the being-ignored is beneficial when in public places. No sales people hounding you. But, i kind of miss the friendliness of being somewhere and having a random conversation with a polite southerner.
It's no surprise i miss Texas, i just thought it would take longer to realize that it really is my home.
So like my aunt's friend said when my aunt moved; i'm "just on vacation".

The boredom of prestigious coffee shops

There is a man who goes in to the coffee shop i'm working for everyday. I guess he's gone there for years because everyone seems to know him. But lately, everyone has been asking him where his wife has been. And he always has an excuse:

"She's at work"
"She's takin' the day off"
"She's not feeling well"
"I'm on my way to pick her up now"

He's older, mid to late sixties i'd say? A few liver spots to compliment his face and arms and these tiny glasses that sit perfectly at the top of his nose. He's very polite, very kind and talkative and also very unsettling.
Everyday for the past two weeks, i've heard every excuse possible as to his wife's absence.
I've come to my own set of conclusions:

-death
-murder
-divorce
-Alzheimer's

He's shady on the topic and cleverly talks about what she does at her job but not about her.
Working at a coffee shop, you'll see the same people everyday throughout the day so it's no surprise to see him come in later in the afternoon.
Just last week, he came in around noon for a refill and a co-worker asked him where his wife was... again.
"Oh, she was with me this morning."
She and i had both worked the morning shift and the man was minus one.
"I was here this morning, remember?" She smiled but i knew she was thinking the same thing "LIIIAAARRRR"
"Oh, well, maybe she was in the car... i don't really remember.."
Well guess what? I remember him saying she was at work that morning and would be sure to tell her the girls at the coffee shop said "hello."
So, i ask; "Who is Linda and what happened to her?"

Stuck in the Static

I'm in that strange realm of confusion and bravery. A wooded area that you keep venturing though even though the trees are getting thicker and the sunlight stops peeking though their leaves. I can feel my courage faltering - watched all of my hopes for new adventure shatter around me and bleed reality. My eyes burn from all of these miserable colors - the alone feeling that feels like lead on my chest. And action has been replaced by the default defense of hiding inside of myself. But even my mind has sided with confusion and whatever bravery i have is stemming from something i'm not aware of inside of myself. I can't really explain what's happening but, old habits die hard and welcome back observation. So basically, i'm watching myself fall in to this pit of memories and feelings i thought i'd long ago forgotten - that i'd forgiven and said "to hell with - can't change that".
But apparently, the caves of your memory still manage to drink sunlight sometimes and you're left to sift though the wreckage your nagging will can't compete with.
The fight inside of me shed it's armor and joined forces with it's opponent. So here i am, horribly incomplete. And i can't find room to be myself. Yeah, i'm a bit dramatic but explain that to the chaos of your thoughts; rationality packed it's bags and flew the coop so i'll just sit here. Stoop kid. Watching everything happen around me. What is this place?
Like all of my battles, i'll duel until the death - scrape the bottom of my courage until my fingers bleed. And this is my life. Undoubtably, it could be worse so, i know i'll be alright. But until then, here i am, stuck in the static.
So, the question that i'll be answering the next few weeks/months - perhaps year; What is bravery and does it exist inside of me?
And if not bravery, then what keeps me fighting?
What keeps everyone fighting?

When You're THERE

Why do we always find ourselves outside of ourselves at the most crucial times? Being strong comes with facing challenges head-on when you're weak. It's all so cliche but, not giving up is part of wearing the badge of bravery. But, it's getting harder. You find that a lot of your bravery comes with having allies. So, does this make me stronger, for having one strong ally to stand behind each battle? Unfortunately, for me, i do need the support of at least one person, for confirmation purposes at the very least. Does this make my trust in myself weaker? Perhaps it's just age. I don't even know anymore, whatever colors are around me have all blended in to a neutral brown and everything just looks like shit. But there's still Matt, who stands by me and my far-away friends, who still love me. I know i will be okay, i just hate when i feel this weak. Still fighting = bravery but, i still feel like i'm a piece of shit for even losing ground. But, the benefit of being atheist means i believe there is no anything that really fits in to any mold. So doesn't this make me human? All to human? To be confused and frustrated and disappointed and at times, weak?
This is it. This is what i have.
I know i'm still brave but hopefully i'll feel it again very soon.

Trashy Love Glitter

10 years of loving someone and it still happened - that warm, velvety feeling that washes over you when you know you're in love. I know, i know but, it hasn't happened in so long. Not the same way it stuck me last night. Just lying there, thinking about "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" about how Tereza couldn't sleep without touching Tomas. I'm a person who's mind starts spinning the second my head touches the pillow. But, last night, i shared a pillow and felt myself washed over in a warm glow pulsating through the minor contact of my hand on Matt's back. I also found myself doing one of those ever-creepy-girl things where i modified my breathing so i could breathe in his scent when he exhaled. It's really not as psycho-bitch as it sounds but, i'd do no good defending my honor in accusations because i'd be uncomfortable if someone told me that.
It's an incredible feeling and yes, i'll write all about it until it's passed because i know this won't last forever, not this feeling. This relationship has a lot of potential and opportunities for all kinds of faces of love but, this specific feeling will eventually only come in spurts and because of that, i will litter these cyber-pages with all my trashy love glitter.
Sorry.

The Unasked-For Update

So, i made it. Finally out of Texas and completely on my own. An entirely new chapter, an entirely clean slate - my entire past a blank sheet to sketch anything i like across.
And i have Matt. :)
Who knew just sitting with someone was worth a thousand words and a billion butterflies?