[partial] BaddAss

I grabbed a (third) cup of coffe and was walking back to my desk, mentally composing my opening lines to this post.. Then i tripped over one of the eighty million stupid wires surrounding my desk -kind of like boobytraps for idiots, until i get caught in them then they are just boobytraps for the blind, not idiots- which is why i had to call this one [partial] BaddAss, instead of just BaddAss. Tsk tsk me.

so yeahhh… Afghanistan ay?

(paper journal – 6 July 09)

alright so i live in Texas now, right? I’ve been kicking and dragging my nails down cowboy-flavored-chalkboards to keep myself from turning Texan, but gawds honest troof’ is aahhh’m failin’. I bbq like a fiend now, and i have a bit of an accent on certain words, especially when i’ve been drinking.
 However, i’ve done a pretty much managed to avoid liking country music and/or learning how to dance. After 1 year, i’ve learned(ish) how to two-step and i learned two (always wasted) line dances.
 So now i find myself in BFN, Afghanistan, doing (what? you might ask) the freaking country dance thing. I’ve never done this sober before and it turns out i’m pretty

—

 That’s where the entry cut off that particular night. My wingman, who we call Yankee kept swirling me out onto the dance floor. Gotta say the boob-to-boob sensation while dancing is kind of unusual, but she’s a good dancer and it was fun. I’m going to laugh so hard if i leave this deployment as a better Texan than when i got here..hehe. Anyways, we were standing in the corner of this auditorium looking building (called a Clamshell, i think because the ends can be flipped up for extra airflow) when a group of loud and strangely dressed young men came in. One plopped down next to us, and started babbling, but not in English. Turns out he was French! we tried to dance together, but i don’t know enough about country dancing to save a bad dancer – his name was John i believe- and he kept telling Yankee to talk to me, cos he loved me and wanted me.. (i think it was the way my  boobs were bouncing in my shirt personally, but hey who am i to fuck with love-at-first-sight?) There was a hilarious guy named Alex who kept dancing around like a maniac, just booty shaking all over the place to freaking country music. It was amazing. We nicknamed him SexyPants, which is a fairly accurate description I assure you.

We all left the hoe-down and headed towards a place where I had seen offering hiphop – turned out to be local Turkish/Pakistan/Indian/Afghanistan hiphop, which dances a lot like the music at home, so I danced a skewed version of a Balinese fan/flight dance. (old men came up afterwards and told me i danced just like a local woman: i was waiting to be punched and told to get in the kitchen, but i guess i didn’t look tootoo much like a local lady)

After awhile all of us that were not on crack and didn’t have endless energy wandered outside to a little covered area and stood around smoking and bs-ing. The boys being boys couldn’t help but hit on us (i guess the 5 days of no-sex was already wearing on them) my favorite was when one asked Yankee if she would French kiss him, she said no. Then he asked if she would American kiss me, to which she also said no SexyPants leaned in and told me he was celibate – i laughed and told him the word he was probably looking for was ’single’ so i explained what the difference was between the two. He got a horrified look on his face and yelled ‘no no no single! i am single!’  A beautiful young boy named Tony asked me ‘eeef Ahhmericann or Frrrench lovverrz arrre bettterrrr” (imagine sexily rolled rrrs please) I smiled at him and told him i’d never experienced a French man, so i didn’t know. He smiled back and counted out the number of options I had to chose from I told him his eyes were beautiful, he told me i had a beautiful face. Now, i love compliments from sexy foreigners as much as the next girl, but i read once that “you have a beautiful face” is one commonly given to fat girls mostly because they have limited things to compliment. So thanks  for nothing lovely Tony..

We convinced them to walk us partially home – i reached out to hug Tony goodnight and he leaned in and kissed my cheeks. I completely forgot that kissing cheeks is a French thing, so i was blown away by the intimacy of it, and ohmygod his lips were soft. I was quitequite in love at that particular  moment in time. The boys got our number from Yankee and promised to call us the next day to hang out again before they left for patrol.

All day Yankee couldn’t stop talking about them, which was really adorable. I finally had to ask her if she’d never hung out with hot guys before – she corrected me saying that she’d never hung out with hot European guys before and she could be excited about it if she wanted to. After work we showered, shaved our legs and slipped into our sexy pt gear; i smelled as good as i possibly could, what with my old spice deodorant and shampoo.. but then we couldn’t find them anywhere. I figured that since it was about 2 hours earlier than the previous night they were probably at work still, but Yankee was devasted and convinced they stood us up. We wandered here, wandered there, while she checked her phone every few minutes to see if maybemaybe they had called this time.

Finally we meandered over to a coffee shop, the same one we were dancing at the night before. She walked in before me, and turned around giggling hysterically squealing about them being in there. We came up with a supernifty plan where we would go up, order a drink and then notice them. Cheezits. We did it. Turns out the young boys had gotten in trouble because they were sleeping when they weren’t supposed to so their boss said they could stay on their compound and continue sleeping that evening as well. Personally i was good because it was a grown up and more mature conversation about rank, politics, France etc. Yankee was sad and kept talking about how she missed the younger boys because she wanted to be jumping around and laughing and joking… to each their own I suppose.

On my first side note, I met Bob Woodruff this morning.

On my 2nd side note, Lucky Charms make a delicious snack.

On my 3rd side note, I desperately miss tequila and Charlie.

On my 4th side note, I took 7 pictures the other day that have now been published on the main AF website: http://www.af.mil/news/story.asp?id=123158810 if you want to check it out. They changed my captions around but it’s good. The shot of the boot on top of the ammo was originally named The Things She Carried — do you know where that came from? Let me know if you do

xxoo

The Land of Not Quite Right

My desk is pretty sweet. I have my desktop with a huge screen, a laptop to my right and one to my left.

-> i brought the one on my right because it has supersweetlovelylovey CS4 on it. the one on the left has Avid and Sorenson Squeeze on it.

Currently whenever i get done with a video in Premiere i have to export it to a portable drive and move it over to the other laptop so that i can squeeze it into the proper filesize for the internet. Then, i export the small version back onto my drive and move it back to my laptop. Copy+paste. Then i burn it onto DVD so that i can move it to my desktop, which is connected to the internet.

The other people complain about the food mostly, how the cokes don’t taste right, how the turkey wings probably aren’t turkey, how the chips are strange. etcetcetc. And so, we’ve nicknamed this joint The Land of Not Quite Right.

On a happy note, I got to film a FlyLeaf concert and interview them afterwards! Then a few days later i bumped into them at the chowhall and i asked them if they wanted a copy; they said sure, so i rushed and made them an extended version and ran it over to the airport. i couldn’t find them anywhere, so i stood around all dejected-like, especially when i heard the boarding call. I looked up, and FlyLeaf appeared out of nowhere, so i handed my disc to one of the dudes. Hows that for perfect timing ay?

I’m pretty sure James Culpepper (shaggy guy second to the right) and I will be getting married sometime soon and producing beautiful children in about 10 years or so. Ebusjebus. If you want to check out my news story you should be able to reach it through this link: www.bagram.afcent.af.mil middle column towards the bottom.

Yay!

The word is…

…there is no word.

Just kidding that was the joke during the initial travel on my first deployment a couple years ago. We were stranded in horrible transient tents for a couple days and we kept having to meet up every few hours to find out if we had a flight yet. Time after time our little group commander would say “the word is” and we’d all chorus “THERE IS NO WORD!”

So I left home on Monday, thinking that my flight left America at 0245 on Tuesday. When we got to that particular transient point we found out that we weren’t leaving there til that time, but on Wednesday. So my wingman and I got rooms at billeting on base and proceeded to find a sports bar. Leaving home was difficult, as always. Everytime i looked into Charlies’ goopy black eyes i started to tear up.. So then he would get upset, and Nona would start fussing, and i’d cuddle them both. Then i’d really start crying.

Half my squadron showed up at the airport to see me off which was really touching. Except for my bestfriend was outside with my dogs and everyone that came to wish me well was inside with the AC. I was scrambling for a polite way to tell them ‘hey thanks for coming but i’d rather hang out with my dogs and bff in the 90+ degree weather where I can at least smoke and be miserable in quiet’ for about 20 minutes until my boss came out and saved me. I was doing an okay job of not getting emotional as i was walking around with my puppies until some dumb bitch came up and started crooning at them about how their mommy was leaving and how sad that they didn’t understand, did they puppywuppyschwuppy. My boss kept cracking jokes about how i’d miss them more than i’d miss her or my bff.. of course that’s not true, but i do sleep with my dogs a whole lot more than i’ve slept with either of them (make that zero times) and so therefore i’m pretty attached. Plus, i’m the coolest thing in the world in their opinion, and i need to stop writing about them because i’m getting sad again.

Anyways. We have a layover in Shannon, Ireland and i’m kiiiiind of excited. While i am probably going to be the only loser in the bar that orders a Budlight in Ireland, i’m willing to own up to that shame. I love it’s taste. For awhile, a few months ago, i drank it so often that i’m convinced my tongue was permanently coverd with it’s buttery goodness. Mmm. It’s going to be a long deployment without that particular vice ‘o mine ladies and gentlemen (like that Irish brogue? yep, I’m practicing!) I’ve promised a couple people that i will try a real Guiness, because apparently it tastes nothing like the nasty burnt-coffee version that they sell to us silly people in the States. Have you ever noticed that the piss beer in a country is usually extremely popular in others? I totally didn’t realize that the my-garbage-your-treasure rule applied to beers, but i’m starting to believe it. Like in Australia, Fosters is garbage, kind of like America’s Nattylight, or even worse, PBR. And while American’s love that stupid Mexican beer called Corona, most people that actually live there wouldn’t touch it with Bill Clinton’s weewee. Just saying.

A lovely thing i discovered earlier while i was urinating — the cute pink w/ white hearted underwear i chose for this leg of the trip have been tagged by my dogs. Thanks kids, as if i needed more ruined panties to ensure i wouldn’t forget you!

well everyone, i’m off to download more Kindle books.. god i love that thing!

xoxoxo

New Chapter

Yesterday I brilliantly observed that mine is a generation that will not be forgotten. Ever. It seems like just about everyone has a stupid camera – on their phone, their Nintendo DS1, their key chain, probably even on their dog. When I look back on old photographs I laugh at their styles and wonder about all the years that I missed that I can’t see. Thank you, years 2000+ for making every single moment of our lives accessible for the next trillion or so years.

I’m starting up this blog again, and hopefully I’ll be able to keep at it. The main reason, I’m heading to Afghanistan pretty soon and am wayyy too lazy to write everyone. If you people will just read this occasionally, hopefully that will suffice

In case you don’t know me and accidentally clicked here somehow, I’m 23, have curly brownish hair and am active duty Air Force. I work as a Radio/TV Broadcaster, and I love my current office because they allow me to play in photo shop all day long. I can’t even remember the last time I did a proper news story, which sucks because I did love doing that too, but graphics work is awesome.

I tend to overuse the word awesome, and i dislike capitalizing “i”. i dig run on sentences and like to combine words for extra effecthumorawesomeness. I’m an English major (haha) and am really big into postmodernism literature; i adore creative nonfiction comedy like Jen Lancaster or Tucker Max or ummmm… more to follow when i can remember. i also love to read just about anything to do with faeries or dragons. i’m a pretty big nerd, but i hide it well behind my increasing collection of tattoos (on my body) and peircings (in my body). I have a security blanket called a Kindle. you can buy them on Amazon

I have two rat bastard chihuahua’s named Charlie and Nona. Charlie’s long haired, mostly white with some black splotches and he is my favorite. Nona looks like the TacoBell dog, and she is on crack. Her registered name is Setan’s Nona Kecil, which means the Devils Little Girl. She’s awful I share a kitten with a friend of mine, and i think we decided to call her Api (fire) but i’m trying to convince people that we need to change her name to Iblis (demon). Any guesses why?? I also have a really cool little Beta fish named Tiedye. I think he is a small reincarnated peice of my previous hippie life.

i love beer, and drink it often. i love wine, and drink it less often. i effing love sushi and misc Indian food. my parents are missionaries, and have been since like ‘89, which means i have one of the craziest upbringings possible, probably only beat by my younger siblings examples. I’d like to say that the person i’ve become has no reflection or bearing on them, but rumor has it that your parents are involved somewhat in the molding process. i’d like to say i didn’t become rebellious the minute i left home because that is what i honestly believe. when i left it felt like i could breathe for the first time, that finally i could finally portray the true self that had been squished into a corner my whole life.

i’m a smartass and very reserved. basically until i feel comfortable in a group i don’t say squat. i’d love to be less shy but it’s difficult for me. i don’t like talking on the phone, especially to strangers. i start to stutter and get really nervous when i have to order food etc etc. for some reason i’m scared of post offices, but i can’t figure that one out.

That covers the basics…ish

in case you’re wondering, yes, i am nervous about going to Afghanistan. I think only an idiot isn’t scared about going to war, because you could be that guy that just doesn’t come home. if i don’t, my siblings get to go to fancy schools (yay) but please excuse my selfish preference that they don’t for this reason anyways. plus i would miss Charlie wayy too much

haven’t quite decided when i’m going to announce this blog exists, probably a day or two before i leave because i’d rather not have people calling me to talk about it… (that whole phone thing again ya know?)

xx

What I [don't] Like About [many of] You

i was asked recently about what i learned from my recent romantic disaster; mostly it was character traits and/or personal habits that i am going to avoid for the rest of my life, interspersed with the occasional deep insight into my own chaos.

1. i really, really don’t like being bugged the second i walk in the door. i’m tired, hungry and brain dead from a crappy day at work, you are lonely and bored after a long day of playing video games. i tried really hard to be sympathetic and interested but there are honestly only so many times i can laugh or smile at the story of your stupid dog jumping on your balls which made you die during your supercool game. oh and i realize that being a waiter at a crummy restaurant isn’t your dream job but i have no response to another gripe about a shitty tip. i know i’m being callous, but i think you could get another job. i’m just saying. i used to wish i could relate to what happened during your day because maybe then i would feel more connected, but i started to realize it was a lost cause. i noticed this the day your expensive cable was all hooked up, because all i ever heard from you was baseball statistics and questions about why i was being distant. i did not mean to be, i just had nothing to say. i did try and explain this to you, and i know you tried to comprehend it. you made comments about waiting until 6 before you would try and talk to me, at which point i tried to tell you my happiness didn’t have a formula attached. depending on the day i had, or how aggravated i was by you i might not want to talk to you at all, or maybe i would be fine as soon as i was changed. i just wish you could have noticed me glaring and realized that i didn’t want to talk to you right then.

2. i require literacy. i kinda sorta read all the time and while i don’t need you to have read all the same things, it would have been nice if you read sometimes.. and no sports statistics do not count. i read the news every single day at work because i like to know what is going on in the world; i read how-to articles; i read selfhelp books. i read nonsense about romance, i read Kafka. i thought it was great when you wanted to read too, until i noticed that it took you almost a month to get through a 300 page book. you liked to use big words and you thought it was great that i always fixed your grammar but actually sweetheart it makes you look like an idiot if you use words incorrectly; if you don’t know their meaning or how to use them properly in a sentence it is probably better not to use it at all.

3. i understand that it is normal for guys to fight over who has the biggest cock when they first meet each other, but i think it is stupid. you used to tell me that you felt like an idiot and a jackass and worthless; i tried to tell you to stop thinking like that. people of mediocre intelligence do great things all the time, you just have to believe in yourself. i don’t get why you felt a need to be cooler than the 78 year old man that lives across the street, but i noticed you liked to jump in and disagree with him all the time. talking louder does not make you right, but i’m sure at one point you will learn that.

4. i hated the way you treated the dogs. you used to get up and watch sports while i was getting ready to go to work. i’m just throwing it out there that you could have possibly let the dogs out, got them water, made sure they had enough food. at least on a commercial break or something? it’s not an issue for me to do it, i make time, but you could have. oh and just for the record, your dog is not well trained. mine aren’t either, but i don’t tell people that they are. you were the only one she would listen to, and it was usually after you had hit her. if you hit people i bet they would do everything you told them to do also.. it used to kill me when i’d come home and there would be a monster steaming pile of shit somewhere in the house and you would be playing video games. you would hit your dog and yell at her, and i used to wonder if it ever occurred to you to just let her out more often. Yes, she was capable of holding it for hours and hours, but there really wasn’t a reason for that when people were at home, was there? oh and getting mad at Charlie for him not going to you almost cost you your eyeballs. he was abused in many of his previous lifetimes and is skittish. yelling at him for dancing out of your reach makes him uncomfortable and pisses me off, and lost you points in both our eyes.

5. i didn’t like the way you were romantic. i used to, the first time we were together: you were my sun moon and stars and i don’t remember ever being angry with you. this time around it just didn’t work. i don’t know which one of use did all the changing, but i suspect it was me. like when you would get up the same time i did, even though you didn’t have to be at work for another six hours. you told me that if i didn’t get to sleep than you shouldn’t get to sleep either. i told you that was nonsense and that if it was switched i would definitely still be in bed. it aggravated me to see you wasting sleep when i wasn’t getting enough. i like to wake up at the last minute possible, rush around getting ready and go. i know it offended you that i didn’t take the time to smoke with you in the morning, but when it comes down to ten extra minutes of sleep vs smoking.. sorry, you lose! same goes for sharing a cup of coffee before i leave. i make some to go and smoke on my way to work anyways. you used to make me dinner, which i thought was very nice. however, i usually have no idea what i want for dinner until it’s dinnertime. i’m not even hungry until i smell the food most of the time. i know my smartass comments made you angry, but there are only so many ways of saying ‘i don’t know what i want for dinner’ and i was getting tired of repeats, savvy? oh and if i walk in, the house smells good and i still say i’m not hungry and you make me a plate anyway, i will probably take a few bites to be nice and then push it away. i’m just not enough of a man to eat when i’m not hungry. i remember when you got me a day at the spa, and it was a great idea. unfortunately the lady doing my facial took tweezers to my skin and ripped my pores open, the lady doing my massage rubbed salt into my freshly shaven legs and the lady doing my nails didn’t know how to do designs. my point is that the experience was not the panty dropper you were hoping for, which happens. i can’t believe you got mad at me later that night when i was tired and yawning through dinner and didn’t want to go to anything. i can’t believe you got even madder when we got home and i watched dumb tv for a couple hours instead of going to bed. i guess because i was alert enough to doze on the couch, i should have been fine to go out that night. please, forgive my selfishness.

6. i was scared of your penis. i know, i know, i know that’s crazy. a few months before you moved in i mentioned that i had never seen a peirced cock, followed with a crack about having to look one up on the internet because i would never see another one besides yours. you decide to get yours peirced in My Honor, which horrified me. I tried to talk you out of it, i tried to tell you that you should do that for you and not me, and that i didn’t actually want to experience one, i just wanted to see it.. and it was dumb to peirce it just to let me have a look. you were determined and you did it, kudos. i then had to listen to story after story about it oozing blood and puss not to mention the blurry grimy and alarming pictures you sent me. by the time we got around to being naked together i was terrified that it would rip out of your skin or maybe even shank my insides. i was able to feel like with every stroke because the balls at the end of your bar were the perfect length to rub against me walls. it felt like it was going to get lodged and trapped and i had horrible visions of trying to get you unstuck. so then because i was scared of your cock and it hurt a bit, i stopped wanting to have sex. at first it was just like ehhhh we didn’t do it today, whatever, then when days turned into weeks i was treating it like an experient almost. testing my celibacy, how far could it go? it made me angry when you tried to get me drunk in hopes that i would fuck you; is that really how you treat a person you’re in a relationship with? after awhile we just kept fighting, at which point i did not feel a desire to be intimate. i remember when you got mad at me when i moved my leg out from under your hand while at the neighbors house. you yelled at me about it later, telling me that other people don’t need to know when we are having problems, that it should stay between us. i moved away that particular time for two reasons: first that it was 97 degrees outside and i was sweaty enough already, and secondly i was mad at you and did not want to be groped by you. at all. of course there is no need for other people to know when we are fighting, however since i’m not stupid and i’m aware of it, i do not have to be touched by you if i do not feel like it.

you told me that i would miss you, that i would regret sending you home. I don’t. i think about you, but it’s probably not the way you were hoping.

Poetry

I found a peice i wrote last year for a class, kinda dig it.

********

I was just some girl, once upon a time.

The world, gloriousbeautifulandcharming, in front of me.

I was afraid to take a chance on life

And decided to hide.

I swore, I took an oath.

All gave some, some gave all.

I almost gave all on a whim.

For some boy.

The flight was long, especially when reality sunk it.

Cement barriers, hiding us from them. That’s all.

It was cold, it was hot.

It was hard, it was maddening.

The sun was vicious, the sand brutal.

Lips cracked, voices lost, cheap cigarettes devoured.

Prayers left, letters write.

Just let me come home. Please. That’s all I ask.

Life almost changed by a matter of angles.

100 yards too short, by their standards.

By mine it was way too goddamn close.

Who the hell has the right to kill, “just because.”

I’m a pawn. Some kid, thrown in a uniform

Handed a gun and a radio, told “good luck.”

This is not my war, not my fight,

But for some stupid reason I decided it might be fun

To dress up and play pretend.

We lay, shoulder to shoulder, dirty sock to mouth

Quietly. Be still. Don’t move. Maybe we’ll wake up.

Maybe I’m somewhere else, somewhere safe,

Somewhere that people have better things to do

Than try and kill me because of what I represent.

I don’t want your stupid clap on my shoulder.

I’ve done nothing, nothing I tell you.

I represent millions of other pawns, stuck

Dying and pouring out life for no reason.

Please, just let me cry and forget.

I hate remembering.

Since I am

actually a girl… I get to be romantic/lovedovey/mushy occaisionally. It’s in the small print of being female.

I heard a story recently about two people in the Navy, and how they were docked in the same place for about a week. They met, fell in love and got married before their individual ships left. They are still married, thirty-something years later.

To me, that is so beautiful. I was telling someone lately it is such a pity that humanity has become so cynical. I have never been alive in a time where a story like that would actually occur… and I totally wish it did.

I wish I could admit to loving someone, days after I met them. I meet nice people every now and then but instead of allowing the possibility of a good thing, I insist on picking it apart. I wish I could take a crazy chance like that, and not call it crazy. I wish I was brave enough to be willing. I wish I was stubborn enough to make it work. I wish I had enough trust to not worry about drowning. I just plain freaking wish I wasn’t bitter at life already. I wish I could love: utterly, completely, and with trust.

It’s just that it’s not very often in life you meet someone who seems to have all the things you have been wanting or needing for yourself. Fuck at least I don’t… and it’s getting to the point in my life that I’m almost too scared to dream of a ‘happily-ever-after’ which upsets me.

Hey ermmmm if you read this and you know who I’m referring to, cheers Be complimented at least that I’m in turmoil. I am in a serious state of like here.

on another note.. I got a 3G iPhone yesterday, tried to jailbreak it last night to a miserable state of failure. Hopefully I will figure it out soon..

xoxo

Most of the Time

I ignore things. Like living in this stupid intolerant, racist fucking country. I just ignore it and go about things because i have to make a living somehow.

Then i see a picture of something from home. It brings back taste, sight, smells, heat.

Like a shot of someone drinking out of a coconut. I remember how we used to drip gula merah into coconuts, before scraping them out. The sugar mixed with the weird flavor of the mix, and it was delicious. Some people mixed sopi in with theirs, but I was young and didn’t care.

I remember sobbing when i had to write a paper using vivid descriptions; i talked about the houses that were built on stilts over the water in Sentani. The air smelled like salt and rotten fish; the sun was always way too bright. The boards creaked as you walked over them, the houses swayed. And it was so beautiful.

I miss bakso, sate ayam and rendang. My favorite rendang place was a crappy little joint that we always stopped at on the trip from Camplong to Atambua, in West Timor. It was cheap and relatively clean. I remember I had to use the bathroom once and so I had to walk around inside gloomy rooms and through the kitchen, to the squat pots that the dogs cleaned out for you.

I miss sleeping in late and playing with my friends. Once we went and stole star fruit from a neighbors yard. At least, that was the idea until my friends saw that the tree had been wrapped in dried bannanna tree husks. Apparently that meant it was cursed if you stole fruit some it. I laughed at them, and ate it anyways. Then I lived in fear for three or four days waiting to die or gain an extra nose or something.

Fuck I’m homesick. I feel like crying but my stupid nosy roommate is probably going to come in soon.

I miss the ocean like i cut out part of my heart and tossed it away. I remember the first time i stood up on a board. It kinda wobbles, but it’s moving really fast, and it still feels really sturdy. When I wiped out I ate it good, but it was incredible. In those days we knew it was time to get off our boards and come in because we could see the reef. Once i fell, opened my eyes, and was only three inches away from the coral. I came back up, told the girls it was time to jet. It’s still beautiful, so it didn’t matter.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go home. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to leave. The longer I stay here the more sucked in I am. It’s killing me. Every day, bit by bits. Memory by memory. Action by actions. I’m losing myself and I fucking hate it.

/It Won’t Be Long/

(yeah)

On Friday I was at a bar (shocked? I know!) and was looking towards the stage at a band. Some guy turned around, smiled at me, cocked his index finger at me and winked. I did the same back. His buddy leaned in and said… my friend thinks you’re really hot. I said thank you. He said… no really, and he wants to fuck you in the ass. I smiled sweetly and asked what I should tell my bf while all this is going on? (I was sitting with my 6′4 roommate btw) He gulped and said… Tell him that i’m really drunk and am an idiot.
I pretty much laughed so hard I almost pissed myself…

Then as my bff and I were stumbling back to my car, said finger-cocker guy was walking by. I called him over and asked him if he knew what his friend had told me. He said no, so I told him. He gulped, said… Johnny really said that to you? I nodded. He said… well it’s the truth!

Jeez i bet he gets laid often! he wasn’t half bad looking; if we had gotten together i could have teased Johnny about that for years!

As we were driving away to go to some guys house to drink apple pie flavored moonshine, my bff insisted on turning on my overhead light and filming me repeat that very story. I was laughing hysterically, smoking, and following a car… then of course i had to throw in references to the beautiful young studd my friend de-virginized… at which point i started swerving because i was leaning over the steering wheel.

xoxo

(yeah)

Totally Discovered Ancient History

I’ve become obsessed with Yahoo Answers… and I was looking up an essay I wrote some experiences about 3 years ago and discovered some really really old things I wrote. This one was an email that I had to laugh about.

 i think i explained my theory to you before, about how everyone is always so busy and responds to
emails so late that everyone else should just get used to it and stop apologizing for the delay. honestly- keeping in
touch is just hard to do. it hink its been that way forever, and so we should understand that already. like when
you don't see a bestest friend for years, and then all of a sudden things are back together like there was no time
in between. Those friends don't apologize too much, they just catch up and move on.. or at least i do with my
friends  

 so your ex came to visit.. poor lost
puppy   is she the one that you mentioned before, that lived in NY? you're
lucky that things were still so fun together. for me, when i re-see people i used
to be close to, if they don't make the first move i always feel alienated. I
have this complex where

 i don't think anyone will remember me.
at CRC i'd spend the day hanging out with some person i just met, when i'd see
them later on i'd never say hi bc i didn't want to intrude on the potential of
them thinking i was crazy.. maybe i am.

 what does west nile feel like? i had
malaria many times when i was younger and it was never any fun. the bones
always aaaaaache and i felt so old and weak, not to mention the body
temperature swings hotcoldhotcold all day long.. in highschool i always
insisted on going to school,  i'd usually
make it through first period, then the teacher would see me shivering with
teeth chattering and tell me to go home. 
your symptoms sound like an artists' slump, which might be helped by a
shower and a walk around the neighborhood. its amazing how being around

 other people and being active helps the
body heal. when i'm sad or nervous or anxious or mad i usually talk myself into
being sick too. my body and posessions usually reflect the state of my mind.
for instance, whenever i don't clean my room (which i do everyday) then
something is wrong. when i wander around wearing torn stained clothes with my
hair in a whitegirlafro all dazedlike, then something is definately wrong.

 the garage sale was interesting. harsh
to have people pick though my stuff and not like some of it. (usually when
people meet me they think i'm some sort of Mexican mix. wrong. i'm Portugese
German from my father, and Irish American Indian from my mother. i dont speak
any Spanish, but eventually i want to learn Portugese.. ) we had a bunch of
Chicano people come to the sale, and it was hilarious trying to understand
them. There were these 3 girl cousins that liked my clothes and i could
understand their gist everynow and then so i would sort of reply. Then they
would all start laughing and cracking jokes about me just pretending not to
understand, and

 they would all start chattering topspeed
loudly right at me..   Later on an old man came by and i was showing him a
bunch of beads i had. Prolly around $20 worth, because i had been collecting
them from all over the country and world. I used to make alot of jewelry but
lately i've been so busy and i can only imagine that will increase. The man
smelled like incense, so i was wondering maybe he was burning it in his car? We
were talking about it being pretty cold, so he started telling me about this
hot spring somewhere that he likes to go to, and how it is clothing optional.
Cool, right? He then started talking about all these girls he's massaged over
there, and that sometimes their spouse/boyfriends were there and sometimes not,
but it was all groovy because everyone was so openminded... Then apparently he
is going to the hot springs in November, sans wife, and it would be cool if i
was going to be there.. hmmmm... As he was leaving he paused by a pair of tacky
lace underwear that an ex bought and insisted i wear and gave me this creepy
smile and asked if i ever wore those. I was doing an internal prayerdance

 thing chanting 'please don't let him buy
them, please don't let him buy them' -he didn't thank God-  i've always told my friends that i was going
to get off a plane and meet a rich old man to marry and then i'd be set for
life.. i realized after meeting him that i just don't have the balls for it..
or maybe he doesnt ^.^



  i'm really struggling with leaving. please
allow yourself to feel complimented by the knowledge i'm only talking about
this with you. its easier because you're a screen on my computer, not someone
who has to listen to me cry.   i keep
trying to figure out exactly what it is that i'm so worried about and i can't.
I've left friends and family and boyfriends so many times

 already. Last summer was horrible
though. I was around my family 24/7, and i didn't have any quiet time. my only
alone time was in the shower, and i spent alot of time curled up in the bottom
crying.    i think i'm anxious about
leaving this boyfriend. in the past, every time i've left, i've always met
someone new right away. I make friends easily and when i'm lonely i cling. each
boyfriend  i've ever had has always been
better than the last one. This one, Craig, is my best friend. I've told him
things i've never told anyone else.. despite his opinion that he's never

 wrong, he always says exactly what i
need even if its not nice to hear. he doesn't yell, belittle me, coerce me,
anything. He just allows me to exist and be adored.  i've been writing so much sappy poetry lately
   i have a concept i want to paint for him as a goodbye present and i'm
working on words to go with it.. i have a bunch of good lines running around in
my head that i can't put together. in the past i've written peices i liked
which consisted of memories put together into lines that make no sense to
anyone else. the best inside joke of all time. its not working now though.
Whenever i sit down with a pencil and paper i think of leaving him and my tears
just fall.

 Whenever i try to talk to him about
leaving i start sobbing, which takes the conversation nowhere. my tears are my
defense mechanism i think, because whenever i can't express whats in my head i
always start crying. i cry and take whatever it is the person is saying instead
of stating my opinion.   this last week
will be really hard for me i think because everything is marred by the fact
that i'm leaving. i have to sit down my 3 yearold neice and tell her about it,
because last time i went away for a week i forget to tell her and she was so
mad at me. she wouldn't talk to me for almost 2 weeks.. her words are beautiful
though, because she can't say all of her consonants. She calls me Suuuueeeee
(yes like the pigs) and if i'm sleeping in, she'll jump on my head and make me
watch cartoons with her.   you're right
-- once i get to basic training i'll be so busy running and trying to stay ahead
of the game i won't have time to be sad. can't wait