Rent to Own

I'm going to rip out my ovaries and staple them to the wall with a sign above them that reads "Fuck Men!" I'm paying rent on something I don't own. I wish I would have a god damn kid already so I could build some equity in the mother fuckin' things. The market is going through a dry spell. (Eh em, bold innuendo) I feel like a truck hit me. Fair warning the first man to piss me off while I feel like this, is also going to feel like a truck hit them! Fuck this. Fuck babies. Fuck men. Fuck happy couples. Fuck being a woman. Fuck the 4th week of the month. Fuck drugs that aren't strong enough. Fuck pregnant women. Gah! Owie.

Doubts of Faith

It's amazing what the human spirt can endure. Pain and Suffering. Loss and Death. Physical and Emotional ailments. We never give up, for fear of failure when we do give in. What happens when your spirit gives up? You die. Have you ever been around someone who is dying? From old age, cancer, severe injury? They die when they want to. Don't kid yourself. The human body can endure so much, it will last as long as your spirit is holding on. There are countless stories of people dying, in a coma, or otherwise, completely unable to communicate, and once that single important person that they were holding on for says to them "It's okay to let go, I know it's your time to go." it's a matter of minutes. I suppose death is a depressing topic. I don't know, maybe our culture has glorifyed it. Made it this heinous scary event. Zombies, ghosts, and other "living dead" have run rampant in hollywood. I'm a firm believer in the spirt world. If you know me well enough then you know that the spirt world is a firm believer in me also. People have unfinished business. Ghosts aren't always the happy Casper kind, sometimes their unfinished business is more sinister. For example vengance? If you don't have that connection with the other world then you really don't need to have any concern for your saftey. (Unlike most summer blockbusters portray, ghosts really can't hurt you.) If you are connected the way that I am you are going to know waaay in advance when a spirit is good or bad. You just know. I'm not sure why I have been contemplating this so much. Everytime a major event happens in my life I become more in touch for a brief period. I have always seen things other people don't see and felt things other people don't feel. Sometimes I feel as though this has a profound affect on my issues with God. Why it's so hard for me to have this blind faith. I know things other people don't. I see things that make me question what kind of God allows for this to happen. I wish I could just know that there is a God. There are things in my life that I just know. The existance of God isn't one of them. I wish someone could make it simple for me. Simple enough to believe in. However, unless that person knows what I know, I'm still going to struggle with their faith.

Mother Fucking Karma

I am a firm believer in Karma. I may not be the most religious person on the block, however, I am in informed individual, there fore I'm perfectly capable of deciphering my own views. I don't need a priest, or a pastor, or a minister, or a rabbi, or an evangelist, or an atheist, or any other fucking moron to tell me what to believe. By my education and formulated views; I believe that there is something bigger than us. Some people believe it's God, Allah, The Spirit of Mother Earth, Satan, or whatever other god or idol you chose to throw your time away on. I'm not knocking religion. (However, my horrible attitude towards it is shining brightly in this particular blog.) Some people need that. Something to believe in. I believe in life and death. Simple enough. I have people in my life who are devout Christians, but that doesn't mean I share their goal. What is their goal? "Spread the word of God." Fucking bite me with that bullshit. I absolutely hate when people try to shove religion down my throat. If I wanted to taste it I would. No need to hold me down and force feed me. What the fuck. Whew. Went off on a little tangent there. Anyway, back to Karma. I honestly believe that life is about keeping score. Who has the most points. I don't buy any of this "In God's eyes everyone is equal." bullshit. Everyone is not equal. People suck. There are very bad people in the world. Your trying to tell me that Charles Manson and I are both kicking it in left field? I think not! He is in the dumpster in the parking lot and I'm on the mother fucking pitchers mound. Ever been to a t-ball game? They don't keep score, because "You are all winners." You know what? Every single one of those 5 year olds walks off the field and asks their mom or dad "Did we win?!" You know why? Because in life there are winners and loosers. Survival and death. There are people that bust their asses to try to make an honest living and be a successful part of society. You know what? Fuck society. (I'm extremely pissy right now, can ya tell?) I just can't seem to understand how things work out. I realize that some things just aren't meant to be understood, but god dammit, I wanna know! How does a convicted criminal get everything they have ever dreamed of, while I bust my ass and hope I make it another day. Fuck that. I'm so pissed of at whoever keeps track of the Karma points. I want a re-count. This isn't fair! (If you even reply to me that "Life isn't fair." I'm gonna bloody your noes and break your tibia.)

My mother said to me, "If you become a soldier, you'll be a general; if you become a monk, you'll end up as the Pope." Instead, I became a painter and wound up as Picasso.
-Pablo Picasso

Sex, Drugs, and Rock 'N' Roll

Three of life's greatest pleasures. Sins? Well I'm pretty sure that Rock 'N' Roll keeps me sane. I wonder, how did this sub-culture become? Aerosmith? Rolling Stones? (I don't consider The Beetles Rock and Roll, really it's more of a monotonous British Invasion bullshit sort of sound...) or does it go all the way back to Elvis Presley. Elvis was about bucking the system, doing something people thought was outrageous. He made it amazing. Women swooned at the sight of his hip gyrations. He made "loud and inappropriate" music. He changed a nation. He made a way of life. I have been reading this book. "The Heroin Diaries" by Nikki Sixx of Motley Cure. I would highly recommend it to anyone with any sense of relationship to the rock lifestyle. To me, rock is something that makes me wanna stand up and belong to the uprising. I know it's not fully accepted. I know it's loud, rude, and crazy. That's why I like it. To me music is about expressing something so deep and so true that only the honest sounds of your being can convey it. Scream it fucking out! "Hell hath no furry like a small town boy with a dream." Nikki Sixx said that, and it embodies what I'm talking about. Anybody, anywhere, can have this feeling, a yearning to connect with something so raw, yet so powerful. I love the whole persona. The tattoos, the drinking, the loud ass music, hating the cops, the avalanches of coke, hookers, strippers, groupies, roadies, tours, and the mother fucking attitude. I think ZZ Top had it nailed in a lyrical phrase "Naked women and beer, we got it all right here." A lifestyle that reaches beyond their wildest dreams. Nikki Sixx summed it up on the Girls, Girls, Girls tour.
Top 5 Tour Activities
1. Crashed Limos? 1
2. Cocaine? It's snowing 8-Balls
3. Whisky? By the gallon
4. Whores? More than we can take advantage of..
5. Repercussions? none
God Bless Rock 'N' Roll
Sometimes I wish I could throw myself into a life like that again. I was having fun. The problem is not everyone gets the luxury of #5 on that beautiful list. Life takes it's toll. Being addicted to drugs, never seeing home, fucking strippers on the road instead of your wife at home, screaming the same, once angst riddled songs, and praying you don't wake up tomorrow is no way to live. It all comes down to that. Always. It will end. It always does. I'm marking my journey through my soul by marking my body with tattoos. I plan to continue. If anybody doesn't like the way I live my life they can kiss my large, white, tattooed, mother fucking ass. And that ladies and gentlemen is why rock lives on. The mother fucking attitude of it all. Any god damn questions? I didn't fucking think so!

Down The Only Road I've Ever Known

Sometimes I wonder why things happen they way they do. Why did I have to go through all that? Why did it have to hurt so bad. I care too much. But maybe that's the problem with the world now. No one cares enough. I didn't "think" about him everyday. I "worried" about him everyday. That is no way to live. I want life to be simple and happy. Sometimes you have to work at it and fight for the important things, but in all reality it should be enjoyable. The day to day life with another person should be simply happy. Be there for each other. Look out for each other. Support each other. Be proud of each other. Tell each other everything. Share a life. Be best friends. Be in love. The kind of love that is easy. The kind of love that you wake up each day and say to yourself, "I'm happy with him. We are content." My parents are perfect. (Clearly they aren't perfect, but the relationship is damn close.) There is nothing wrong with a relationship if it doesn't have the "passion". First of all, that shit is over rated. Second of all, you have to be a romanticised person to be that passionate. Any shred of reality and common sense destroys it. (God forbid we be functional human beings in a functional relationship!) Maybe I can do this. Maybe I could go away for 6 years. New places and new faces. It could be exactly what I need and never wanted. Just maybe, if I would have considered it, instead of simply stating that it wasn't going to happen. Just maybe I do love him. Just maybe it was right in front of me all along. Just maybe we need each other in the best of ways. Then again, maybe I needed to realized that the last guy needed me and I didn't need him, before I could realize who I really do need. I should have seen the writing on the wall. Literally. On the mother fucking wall. I went to see the Sex and the City Movie w/ my mom. All I could think about was my ex-boyfriend. The misery of it all. Then we went to eat. We got sat at the only table in the whole damn place with a fucking _____ picture on the wall. Then my song played. The song he picked for me. (Not the ex, but the one that was right in front of me...) Are you kidding me? If there is a God he was jumping up and down getting pissed that I wasn't seeing his not so sudel signs. Life has a funny way of making sense every once in a while. Uncanny how it's at the worst moments. Could it be love? Could it be right? Could we be happy? Is that what he wants? Is that what I want? How do I tell him? Do I tell him? Dammit. Here we go again.

The Words Will Come

I have calmed down. I need to do something for myself. Make a change. Be the bigger person. I'm done. Officially and Permanently. Maybe I needed to put everything I had into it one last time. I needed to see that even when I'm all in, he still can't do it. Could he ever? He will come back to me. He always does. This time I won't be waiting. I have said that before, but this time I'm going to actually do it. I don't care how much I love him. Maybe that is the problem. I love him too much. Maybe I will never know. Life isn't meant to be perfect. Shit happens. Bad shit. Maybe all this time I have been comparing every person to him because I love him more than I could ever imagine loving anyone else. Maybe I have just been looking for the wrong thing. Maybe it's not all about the torrid passionate romance. (Don't get me wrong, hot sex is great.) Just maybe it's about finding someone that gets you. That you can spend the rest of your life with content. A best friend. To be happy all the times between sex. (Crazy! I know!: Insert sarcastic tone here) Someone who loves you enough to take care of you. To want you to be happy. Maybe it's not all about your "soul mate". I read this book about the Yogi religion in India. They believe that your soul mate isn't who you are meant to spend your life with. It is someone that teaches you something about yourself and your life that no one else could. Then when it's the hardest point to let go, they leave you. Maybe that's the way it should be. If you spend your entire life obliviously happy then how will you ever know the beauty of triumph. Of overcoming the hard parts in life and relationships. Another lesson in life. Loosing a loved one. They accept that the one you are most in love with isn't the right one. Even Romeo and Juliet got screwed. Life blows. But I suppose it gets better. (Bla Bla, it will all work out, I promise, Blabity blue, I know.) I'm not sure how I feel right now. I'm hurt. I'm sad. I'm lonely. I'm conflicted. I just want someone to help me understand. Maybe no one can. It's possible that I'm the only one that can get myself through this. He needed me to get "through" it. Fuck that. I need me. (And maybe my best friends. And a bottle of wine.)

Blank Inside

He picked her.

Faith

When did I become such a wuss? A serious push over. I used to be queen bitch. You didn't fuck with me without consequences. Now I'm all "It's ok, I understand, I just want you to be happy." Bla Fucking Bla! My dad and Nick both said I have gone soft. I didn't want to believe it, but it's true. Too much heartache and let down has broken me. How do I keep up with all the confidence, goals, positive attitude, moxy if life just keeps shitting on me? I'm still me, just a much more sullen version. I listen to Five for Fighting when I used to listen to Bon Jovi, I watch Pride and Prejudice when I used to watch Goodfellas, I cry when I used to laugh, I sleep when I used to run, I work when I used to play. Is this growing up? Fuck that. I hate my life right now. I just want some happiness. I can't for the life of me understand why that is so much to ask for. I prayed a few days ago. And every day since. If you know me at all, then you know, I do not pray. Ever. Not since I was 12 years old. That's how desperate I am. I have no control. I have never even taken a drug that made me feel this out of control. Nowhere else to turn. Nothing left to do but fall to the ground and pray. I believe in God, in a matter of speaking. Maybe this is his way of bringing me back. I drifted so far away from him that he had no choice but to wreck my life until there was no where left for me to turn but to him. (I would like to insert here: When the fuck did I get so smart about philosophy? Samantha has taught me well.) I continue to tell myself that everything happens for a reason. I dropped out of college, got fired, lost my best friend, made some bad choices, was broke, couldn't go to culinary school in Chicago, couldn't move to South Carolina, couldn't be happy, for a reason. A reason unforeseen to myself. I had a small amount of faith that God knew what the fuck he was doing. Until he took so much that I had nothing left. That is honestly how I feel. God should be a giver, not a taker. But whatever shred of faith I had left was all that I had. I kept moving on. Until I hit this giant brick wall outside my front door. A wall that threw me to the ground faster than I could blink. Is everything leading to this? Every mistake, every letdown, every heartbreak, every miserable moment because something better was coming? I am willing to accept that all of that pain was worth happiness. I want this. I want my life back. Then to tease me with it like this? I'm not strong enough for another let down. Period. I won't survive it. I can't. There is literally nothing of me left. I can't even write another sentence. Too much pain.

The Love of Ages

Romeo and Juliet. Mark Antony and Cleopatra. Tristan and Isolde. Napoleon and Josephine. Mr. Big and Carrie Bradshaw. The everlasting loves of the world. It's June. Month of Weddings. The Wedding. The Dress. The Food. The Location. The Guests. The Love Of Your Life. My best friend would be on her honeymoon right now. But fate intervened and it wasn't true love. She knows with all her heart who her true love is, but she isn't with him. It's funny how the heart knows no boundaries. Doesn't see when it's inconvenient. Doesn't see when its hard. Doesn't see when it's painful. I am in love. True Love. The kind of love that no matter what happens or who I'm with in my life, I will love this man with my whole heart. I'm not with him. I'm not near him. My heart hurts to think about him. I am literally in tears at this moment writing the thoughts of never being with him ever again. How is love so complicated? As complicated as we tend to think life is, it is really rather simple. You are born, that is life. You die, that is death. It's everything in between that is so hard. It's the relationships you make. The people that you love that make a life worth living. These are the people that complicate life and death itself. You have children with people you love. The people you love die. A part of you dies with them. Family. Friends. Lovers. Children. I just want a fulfilled life. A life with the man I love. If Mr. Big can get his shit together and Carrie gets married at 40 then why the fuck can't my man see that there is no choice? I'm in love. The worst kind of love. The blind kind. The painful kind. The kind that makes you break down crying in the shower at the thought of him with someone else. The kind that when you see a happy couple your heart aches because he isn't next to you. The kind that when you crawl into bed at night you cry yourself to sleep because you are the only one there. I love him. With every piece of my being. Forever.

The Third Letter Good morning, on July 7
Though still in bed, my thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved, now and then joyfully, then sadly, waiting to learn whether or not fate will hear us - I can live only wholly with you or not at all - Yes, I am resolved to wander so long away from you until I can fly to your arms and say that I am really at home with you, and can send my soul enwrapped in you into the land of spirits - Yes, unhappily it must be so - You will be the more contained since you know my fidelity to you. No one else can ever possess my heart - never - never - Oh God, why must one be parted from one whom one so loves. And yet my life in V is now a wretched life - Your love makes me at once the happiest and the unhappiest of men - At my age I need a steady, quiet life - can that be so in our connection? My angel, I have just been told that the mail coach goes every day - therefore I must close at once so that you may receive the letter at once - Be calm, only by a calm consideration of our existence can we achieve our purpose to live together - Be calm - love me - today - yesterday - what tearful longings for you - you - you - my life - my all - farewell. Oh continue to love me - never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved.
ever thine
ever mine
ever ours
-Ludwig van Beethoven