I'm not a model
I'm not a fashion designer
I'm not a writer.
What am I?
Wishing I didn't take the new job. Sick of being a maid. Tired of spending so much time inside the condo. It's Friday night and I'm debating between watching UFC re-runs, studying Japanese, or reading a book. Seriously in need of a life.
One more week of Freedom before I go back to work. I wasted all of August inside of this apartment. And pretty much this entire year actually. The only person who can change things is me. I don't know how though. I'm seriously considering asking for a prescription for anti-depressants. I feel like I'm losing a battle that I'm actually fighting to win.
Blah blah whatever. Isn't it obvious how meaningless my life is when I can't even find anything to blog about. Awesome.
I want a big tattoo. More on that.
ecks.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Folie à Deux
They should have a section in the newspaper for people who've lost themselves.
Lost: 28, female. Real haircolor unknown. Real past unknown. Reality unknown.
Found: 24, female. (fake) Dark Hair, (fake) Past, (fake) Reality. Real superficial.
"Take a chance you stupid ho"
Things that I want to do in the next 30 days (someone put a gun to my head to force me):
1. Join TKMT and learn Muay Thai Kickboxing.
2. Cover the tattoos that I dislike.
3. Smile more.
4. Kiss a boy.
ecks oh.
J.
p.s. Gabe + "I kissed a boy" = Pure Sex.
Lost: 28, female. Real haircolor unknown. Real past unknown. Reality unknown.
Found: 24, female. (fake) Dark Hair, (fake) Past, (fake) Reality. Real superficial.
"Take a chance you stupid ho"
Things that I want to do in the next 30 days (someone put a gun to my head to force me):
1. Join TKMT and learn Muay Thai Kickboxing.
2. Cover the tattoos that I dislike.
3. Smile more.
4. Kiss a boy.
ecks oh.
J.
p.s. Gabe + "I kissed a boy" = Pure Sex.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Groove is in the Heart
Last night I had a dream about EG. We were together. His mom was there. I don't remember much else other than my happiness and his lips. I have to stop doing things like that. I woke up in Infinity on High. It only took a few seconds to bring me back down.
10am - LK calls me to offer me a new position at Amdocs.
10am - I accept.
The rest of the day - I sit and think about what I've just done. So I work for ACD. It's not like BB is there anymore. A slave to the slaves. My optimism about a future affair with GW is disheartening and simply not going to happen. Sigh, the married ones...what is it about him anyway?
Hung out with Amy. Did dinner, a Hippo Tour of Toronto, more drinks at Jack Astors. Wasted. Nothing feels better than giggling with a girlfriend. Jealous that she's seeing a boy and guys seem to hate me.
I think I'm getting fat. I really want to go to kickboxing classes every day but who has that kind of motivation. I hate the way I look though. Something needs to give. I don't think I have enough will power for anorexia/bulimia.
I bought TAI tickets this morning. Nothing will ever feel like VWT in Minneapolis, with him behind the table, looking at me while I died on the inside. William Eugene Beckett. It was all in the summer hair. His voice does it but his face doesn't. I would give anything to have that day again. Or the Snakes on a Plane premiere in LA. Best weekend Ever. Maybe what I'm trying to say is that LL is really what makes my life complete. We've had some fun times. Some Gabe and Billy filled times. I would give anything for an inside joke right now..."Slap my face and call me William Beckett"...there I said it.
2 summers ago I was at TLC. My family. There hasn't been a family since then and I miss it more than anything. Toronto is too sterile and Japan was Japan. What is next? (please say it's an affair with GW!)
I need to kiss some boys. I almost forget what it's like.
Goodbye from the bubble.
ecks ohhhhhhh
10am - LK calls me to offer me a new position at Amdocs.
10am - I accept.
The rest of the day - I sit and think about what I've just done. So I work for ACD. It's not like BB is there anymore. A slave to the slaves. My optimism about a future affair with GW is disheartening and simply not going to happen. Sigh, the married ones...what is it about him anyway?
Hung out with Amy. Did dinner, a Hippo Tour of Toronto, more drinks at Jack Astors. Wasted. Nothing feels better than giggling with a girlfriend. Jealous that she's seeing a boy and guys seem to hate me.
I think I'm getting fat. I really want to go to kickboxing classes every day but who has that kind of motivation. I hate the way I look though. Something needs to give. I don't think I have enough will power for anorexia/bulimia.
I bought TAI tickets this morning. Nothing will ever feel like VWT in Minneapolis, with him behind the table, looking at me while I died on the inside. William Eugene Beckett. It was all in the summer hair. His voice does it but his face doesn't. I would give anything to have that day again. Or the Snakes on a Plane premiere in LA. Best weekend Ever. Maybe what I'm trying to say is that LL is really what makes my life complete. We've had some fun times. Some Gabe and Billy filled times. I would give anything for an inside joke right now..."Slap my face and call me William Beckett"...there I said it.
2 summers ago I was at TLC. My family. There hasn't been a family since then and I miss it more than anything. Toronto is too sterile and Japan was Japan. What is next? (please say it's an affair with GW!)
I need to kiss some boys. I almost forget what it's like.
Goodbye from the bubble.
ecks ohhhhhhh
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Bemuse Me
It feels a lot later than it is. The curtains are drawn and it wouldn't make a difference if they were open because you'd never see a single star in the smoggy Toronto sky. I wasted the summer with these shades drawn, with my eyelids drawn. I'm trying to open my eyes to find an existence outside of these walls.
I used to write great one-liners and garner comparisons to the ones I admired. Twisting words to hide myself behind the big open wound - my heart. I don't know if the lesions have entirely healed, but there's thick enough scar tissue to protect what's left from any foreign intervention. Except for the only FOREIGN intervention that my heart seems to beat for. But I can't fall in love with a country the way I fell in love with green eyes and my narcissistic obsession with his affections. Funny how I haven't felt the same since.
A year after I ended my own life I found music and words that forced the pain through my eyes and let it fall into my lap, keyboard, steering wheel. I wish I had kept those drops in a jar. I miss the salty taste of regret. I always tell myself to forget all about it because you can't live in the past. Last week I said his name twice. I hate when I say it like he exists in the same reality as me. The more time I spend in seclusion, the more I'm convinced that there isn't a single soul living in the same reality as me.
What happened to the Holographic Paradigm Theory? What happened to interfering rays of light to create the holographic world in which we "live"? Where are the books? The songs? The curiosity? I don't even have a special writing pen anymore. I miss my spiral bound silver Nortel notebook.
They are all in totes scattered around Ontario like the rest of my existence. All I have on my person is my heart and it's more unreliable than my flighty behavior.
Sure!
No.
Tomorrow!
Cancel.
Sounds Good!
Unfortunately.
My biggest wish is to plant my heart in the ground and hope for something whole to blossom. I've become weapon sharp like a heart-shaped shank ready to assail the boys who try to cross that line. Very few try and there are no success stories to speak of.
I don't want to write because then I have to feel. Without this outlet I've become so sensitive. Tears flow for anything that finds its way under my skin. I'm so frustrated at 2209 and so desperately need things to change. Glamorizing Japan isn't going to fix everything. I'm worried that I will always be a beautiful-tragic-suicidal mess. Thanks to my ancestors for bequeathing me with this constant manic depressive state. The truth is that I don't even remember how to live.
Hold your head high heavy heart.
So take a chance and make it big,
Cause it’s the last you’ll ever get.
If we don’t take it, when will we make it?
I make plans to break plans,
And I’ve been planning something big, planning something big, planning.
ecks oh.
Off Topic: PW saved my life. I don't know how many times I've written that but I mean it just as much this time as I did the first time I actually admitted it to myself. "I love your hair!" I almost wish he had never acknowledged me.
I used to write great one-liners and garner comparisons to the ones I admired. Twisting words to hide myself behind the big open wound - my heart. I don't know if the lesions have entirely healed, but there's thick enough scar tissue to protect what's left from any foreign intervention. Except for the only FOREIGN intervention that my heart seems to beat for. But I can't fall in love with a country the way I fell in love with green eyes and my narcissistic obsession with his affections. Funny how I haven't felt the same since.
A year after I ended my own life I found music and words that forced the pain through my eyes and let it fall into my lap, keyboard, steering wheel. I wish I had kept those drops in a jar. I miss the salty taste of regret. I always tell myself to forget all about it because you can't live in the past. Last week I said his name twice. I hate when I say it like he exists in the same reality as me. The more time I spend in seclusion, the more I'm convinced that there isn't a single soul living in the same reality as me.
What happened to the Holographic Paradigm Theory? What happened to interfering rays of light to create the holographic world in which we "live"? Where are the books? The songs? The curiosity? I don't even have a special writing pen anymore. I miss my spiral bound silver Nortel notebook.
They are all in totes scattered around Ontario like the rest of my existence. All I have on my person is my heart and it's more unreliable than my flighty behavior.
Sure!
No.
Tomorrow!
Cancel.
Sounds Good!
Unfortunately.
My biggest wish is to plant my heart in the ground and hope for something whole to blossom. I've become weapon sharp like a heart-shaped shank ready to assail the boys who try to cross that line. Very few try and there are no success stories to speak of.
I don't want to write because then I have to feel. Without this outlet I've become so sensitive. Tears flow for anything that finds its way under my skin. I'm so frustrated at 2209 and so desperately need things to change. Glamorizing Japan isn't going to fix everything. I'm worried that I will always be a beautiful-tragic-suicidal mess. Thanks to my ancestors for bequeathing me with this constant manic depressive state. The truth is that I don't even remember how to live.
Hold your head high heavy heart.
So take a chance and make it big,
Cause it’s the last you’ll ever get.
If we don’t take it, when will we make it?
I make plans to break plans,
And I’ve been planning something big, planning something big, planning.
ecks oh.
Off Topic: PW saved my life. I don't know how many times I've written that but I mean it just as much this time as I did the first time I actually admitted it to myself. "I love your hair!" I almost wish he had never acknowledged me.
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