Sunday, July 31, 2005

She likes to sleep with the radio on.

Well, we're painting my kitchen. So far we got most of the cabinets done. We're painting them red, then the walls yellow. The walls were already yellow, but we had this strange half-design on the bottom that alternated all these different colors like candy canes. Looked like a bloody circus tent.

I loved it. But oh well.

My truck is being fixed and will be back in my loving care tomorrow or the day after. I CANNOT wait. Apparently the new bed is going to be red. Awesome. It will truly be the Cuddlefish. A blue/red truck. That is so kickass. We're also getting the back window installed. So no more of my really cool bumper stickers, but I'll get around to getting new ones. And the turn signals will work again! Woohoo! Now we can get it registered and everything. Cause I've been driving it around illegally since February.

It's a miracle I haven't been pulled over yet. *knock on wood*

Mom and I were comparing sex stories in the kitchen while working on painting. She went from being all squeamish and "I'm your mother" a couple of months ago to now we talk about it like we're friends. Can't talk about it with Nikki since I'm afraid of getting her all sad again with the fact that she hasn't had a boyfriend in nearly two years. I think.

I'm still very in love with him. But I'm so... I don't know...

Something like this just isn't an "on/off" switch. I wish he had been truthful with her. I agreed to a non-monogamous relationship because a.) we were so far apart and b.) I thought we were mature enough to handle it. I thought she had been OK with me. I had thought this had been OK. I thought that he had told her.

This doesn't seem very fair, you know? I'm two thousand miles away. I'm not imposing on anyone. I had four weeks with him. That was it. She had... seven months. I never butted in on it. I never interrupted it. I never had something scheduled with him she had to schedule around. Damn it but this is frustrating. I'm mad, and I'm very upset, and I just want to distract myself, but how do you distract yourself from something this big? How can I distract myself from this?

I know he asked me not to write anything about "us" online but... I just can't stand this right now. I screamed in that car on the drive home after dropping him off at the airport. I screamed because--shit, this had not been in my plans. I screamed because I was so afraid of loosing him. I screamed until I was hoarse and then I screamed and cried some more. I cannot help but feel this much for him. I remember him remarking that this may not last and me hyperventilating. I thought I was going to die. I thought I was going to pass out and then die. I remember him telling me in what I thought was a sincere way that he loved me so much. I remember him saying that he would not be happy without me. I remember him saying that I was a remarkable person.

Was I being played? I gave myself into him so much. Threw myself on him and trusted him and now this.

I just want to hear his voice on the phone right now. I want him to say something like, "Ha ha! April Fools! Just kidding."


I was OK with her. I didn't hate her, I didn't love her. I was neutral. And now... I don't know. I feel betrayed by what I had formed in my head of her. I felt betrayed by this person that I had formed, but it wasn't her. It wasn't her fault because he hadn't told her and this is just FUCKING with me.

Don't hurt me. I told him that. I said, first thing, "Don't hurt me."

Damn it.

Friday, July 29, 2005

Don't you feed me lies about some idealistic future

If you haven't noticed by now (because the title of my entries are sometimes really weird), I used whatever song lyric happens to be playing at the moment of said entry.

I had a good talk with my mother yesterday. I told her some things I've been wanting to tell her very much recently, but then there was a lot I still kept to myself. She started off my whole unbottling by saying, "Your grandmother and I think that you hold way too much of your emotions inside. You really like to think through what you're going to say before you say it, which is strange enough in a teenager, but you were doing it when you were eight years old."

So I told her, "Mom, as much as I know you don't want to hear this, I'm scared of you. You know how you hate feeling helpless, in someone's power, well so do I. But there's nothing I can really do about it. I am in your power. You are god. You can decide what I do and do not do and if I do not comply with it, then you will make my life a living hell. How can I argue with that? There's some things I need and want to say, but I have to keep it inside because you'll get mad at me. You'll stop talking to me, or you'll start being a total bitch. And I don't want to deal with that because I spoke out of turn, so I don't say anything at all."

She actually laughed about that, but I was being serious. I'm a bloody piece of packaged meat. I do not have any rights, and I am her posession. Which seems like the general bloody feeling since I was young and she got me away from my father. "Ha ha, look at the trophy I got from my first marriage!"

Yeah. That's how I feel.

But then she started talking about the baby. The bloody baby. The baby that doesn't even fucking exist. The one that she's forcing David to have. And I wanted to scream at her, "He doesn't want a kid and I've been encouraging him to leave you because you're being so irrational about this!!"

How could someone have a kid with someone that doesn't even want one? She kept saying how she thought about the fact that he might leave her and even if he does she wouldn't ask him anything. "I'd be fine raising another child on my own."

I'll tell you my fear, fellow blog readers, is that she will get pregnant and have a baby, and that Dave will leave her, that she'll loose the house and then have to live in an apartment and then she'll somehow rope me into staying here with her so that she can work and whatnot.

I feel like the only reason she's not letting me leave is because she's training me to be the "mini-mom". Which I don't want. I don't want to feel obligated to stay here. THAT is why I'm so frantic to get out. That is why. Above all other reasons. Above the fact that I stayed in a situation where I was being molested because I felt that she was happy, that everything that I have done since I can remember has been so that she'll be happy, and god damn it she owes me this. She owes me... she needs to let me go. She's got to.

Damn it this gets me so depressed.

Been in a strange mood recently, a very strange mood...


Wednesday, July 27, 2005

Everything looks perfect from far away.

man, I have been having some crazy fucked up dreams lately. I hade some SEQUENCES like CRAZY last night. Just as good as that time I was awake for 38 hours and then went to sleep (okay, not just as good, but pretty damn close). I was finding all sorts of new doors, hidden in spaces and places you wouldn't believe. People living in one-room hovels with a sink and and a grungy bathroom that told me such magnificent accounts of their lives. I had a cat escape in a garden full of the most magnificent creatures. Crap-creatures and the like.

And some guy hit a lady wolf on the full moon and would not listen to me when I told him to get the hell out of there, that a male wolf (werewolves apparently) would be coming along soon and would kill him. Males don't like other males, after all, and it was the full moon. Everyone had to be safe inside a safe house or they'd die. Everyone knows that.

I visited the backstage department of a store that I've visited a couple times before in dreams--one of those familiar dreamscapes--and it was a maze of white, white walls and glaring lights and no way out, really.

God damn it, I love when I have those types of dreams. Those on-your-seat, shitty things are happening but here's this other scene kind of dreams. Story dreams.

And the STORIES I was told. These people and their lives and everyone. It was truly... god, I love hearing stories. I love hearing about these people.

Oof, okay, I think I'm done with that. Wonderful, though. Hard to describe but wonderful.

I really cannot describe my dreams unless I make them into stories. The two biggest stories I have are inspired by dreams.

And a whole shit-load of other misc. ones.

Oh, holy shit, I just realized it's "my time of the year". When everything lifts and becomes clear and that flood of writing rushes out of me. Oh, god, this makes me so happy. Jump up and down and squee happy. I skipped this last year, and it was not a good thing. Oh, god, I really need this right now. I can feel the rush picking at me.

Oh, wow...

This has made my fucking DAY....

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

I want you not to go, but you should.

I just found out that the humming noise I've been noticing in the kitchen for the past two weeks if from the overhead fan.

Well, at least that's solved.

I just came in from outside. It's raining that light, light rain that I love so much. It's warm, the water is kind of a luke-warm. I smoked a cigarette and played with my dogs for a bit. Actually played with them, ran around the yard like Eddie did while he was here. They were a bit taken aback.

I spent some time studying my cigarette, though. I looked at it and thought, "Hey, this is the thing that my great-grandmother smoked for all those years that killed her. Is it this things fault that she is dead? No, it's more her fault for getting addicted. And couldn't the same "addictions" could be associated with other substances, even so-called harmless ones like Coca-Cola." There was more. I just like looking at it, thinking about how a factory produced millions of those. The same shipment that made my cigarette could be in the hands of so many other people.

I like watching smoke curl out of my mouth. I don't like the burning sensation of sucking it in, but I like watching it blow out. Usually I just roll it around in my mouth and then watch it float out, don't even bother to inhale. I like watching.

My fingers taste like nicotine.

I did some of my best work single. I think I need to take a break from relationships for now. I am so in love with him, so very, very in love with him, but I'm also SO pissed off right now. And not something that is going to be solved with flowers and chocolates and late-night phone calls and whispers of "I love you". Something that needs to be solved with time. I need to focus on my writing right now, on myself, and on getting the hell out of Missouri. I need to be able to think clearly.

I am in love with him. And I won't forget that I'm in love with him.

Let me think for a while. Let me write with the desperation of the lonely. Let me create something beautiful in this time. Let me grow. And please, lend me strength. Please, please lend me strength.

I think this is one of the hardest things I have ever done. And please, don't dismiss my feelings just because I'm young. I feel this, I feel this more then I should.

Through ups and downs and then more downs,
We've helped each other off the ground,
No one knows what we've been through,
Making it ain't making it without you.

-I'm about to come alive, Train.

Monday, July 25, 2005

I wont walk away.

Why is it that time is going so slow? I feel like it should be Saturday already and I should be calling up Eddie. The fact that we didn't even get a call saying that he landed OK is started to get me all twittery and nervous. I sent him an e-mail but... well...

I don't know. I am so fucking sad right now. Moody. Really moody.

My cat can so tell, too.

Has something happened? Has nothing happened? I'm pacing around my house trying to find things to occupy myself, but there's only so much I can do, so many rooms I can wander, so far I can drive in my truck without thinking about him. I'm blasting music so loud all day, all night. The night time blasting is much less then the daytime, since my parents are both asleep.

I talked with my father today for two and a half hours about things. My mother wants to know what exactly we talked about. She feels threatened. She doesn't want me to leave and she's afraid we're "conspiring". She's such a control freak.

Am I a control freak?

I wonder sometimes. I know way too many people that rebel against their parents so much they end up becoming their parents. I don't want that to happen. I really don't. Fight too long against the dragon, and you become the dragon yourself. Gaze too long into the abyss, and the abyss will gaze into you. Eddie quoted that to me when I started complaining about my mother. What a sobering quote.

I went to the library today during job hunting. I also went to KFC and Taco Bell. But whatever. Got a couple books. A manga which I finished not just a few moments ago called "Confidential Confessions" by a Reiko Momochi (and when I hear Reiko I always think about It was OK, but very depressing. Not something I needed right now.

Got an old favorite, too. "Blood and Chocolate" by Annette Curtais Klause. Same copy I borrowed a year or two back that I wrote, "This is the best goddam book I've ever read!" in the back. When I picked it up, I noticed two other people had scribbled messages too: "Same for me!" and "Whoever reads this book will agree with us!" I love it when that happens. Much more special then IMing someone. They loved the book--not just the story but the very BOOK--that I love.


I also got three other books that I haven't heard of or read before. "The Dark Light" by Mette Newth, "Wendy" (a Peter Pan inspired story, obviously) by Karen Wallace, and "Rainbow Boys" by Alex Sanchez. Which is about gay guys coming out of the closet. Hm... that was actually recommended to me by the girl next to me in the aisle, who said she had read it and it was pretty good. Still not sure about it...

But, yes, they're all "Young Adult" books, but I'm really in the mood for that right now. More story and less detail. I can so good for a good story and good detail sometimes, but right now I want to skimp on the details a bit and just go for the pure essence of it all. >Insert analogy<

But I thought I would distract myself with books for a while. My "Books read in 2005" list is painfully short. Only twenty-two so far. Disgusting.

I did finished Harry Potter and the HBP though.


And now I have Mod Podge all over my fingers... but that wasn't from reading HP. Of course.

God, I feel so cagey right now. Distractions are NOT working. My friends are not responding to my phone calls and I feel it would be rude to call up my girlfriend because I want to be distracted from thinking about my boyfriend. If I am to spend time with her, it will be for her. Which has gotten increasingly harder...

Damn it. I miss her, but I don't want to feel that sadness if she says she cannot see me. Cause of her parents. Gou-shi.

Shit fuck. I can't seem to get anything right, can I?

Won't you please take my hand?

I think I really like Oingo Boingo. Blame Eddie. He got me into it.

Lately I've taken to smoking ciggies late at night in my room. My mother never comes in here anyway and if she does it's so infrequent (and so are the ciggies) that she won't be able to tell. I only have six of them in total and one of them I've smoked over the last 24 hours.

I find it kind of interesting that I get a headache through secondhand smoke but I'm okay for smoking.

"What's that smell?"

"It's incense. And not 'your kind' of incense."

If I were any older, I would act my age.

God, I love my playlist.

So I've officially switched from Diaryland to here, blogger/blogspot. I put up the notice just a couple minutes ago. I doubt anyone will be too upset. I move around a lot, anyway. Since I can't do the moving that I really want to do.

I still have "Smecks" written across my stomach. Curtsey of Ed. Very light now, though.

Speaking of moving--I have formulated a plan. It's not a very solid plan, so I'm not going to leak any of its secrets, but it's a plan. A plan to get the HELL OUT OF HERE.

Missouri is one SHITTY place to live. Especially when you've had as many shitty things happen to you as I have. Namely, being molested for four years and going insane/suicidal for a year and... well, it's calmed down since then, except for the fact that the guy I love is, like, two thousand miles away. Yeah, that's a biggie.

I just want out of here. I was born in Cali and I want to live out at least another portion of my life there. Or round abouts the West Coast. They're so artsy. It makes me happy.

I have taken to leaving AIM on recently. I may or not be around for a while if you IM me but--

Hey, I just got an IM from someone that read my "16 rant". Sweet--

Yeah, I'll get around to you. S/N is Tessitore16. Feel free to annoy the shit out of me.

Smecks. Hahaha.

Why Missouri Is Hell On Earth.

A. Rednecks. They are everywhere.

B. Christians. They are everywhere.

C. Republicans. They are everywhere.

White, religious supremacist republican rednecks. A dangerous combination AT BEST.

I hate it here.

That wasn't my best rant in the world. Lately it's been less "ranting" and more "whining". Shitty.

>le sigh<

I think I'll take my bow off the stage now. Toodles. Remember to eat your red macaroni.

Sunday, July 24, 2005

What day is this?

I think I've cried more in the past thirty-one hours then in a long time combined. Shit. I hate it when I cry. Very girlish, very stereotypical for my situation, but I am so damn overwhelmed with things.

Shit fuck.

Supposedly--since I am SIXTEEN (I put that in caps because it is apparently of such significance)--I cannot think or feel or function properly. Alright, so this is kind of true, I admit. I admit that at the moment I am chemically unbalanced. But I still DISLIKE being treated like a child (as much as I am SURE many people have heard from my exact audience). It is an old argument, true, but don't you think that since so many of us are screaming out to be treated like more mature people/persons that we should be?

I mean, for Christ's sake, I am sixteen and I graduated High School and am now in college. Don't you think that should count as something? I can--granted I live in a very small, very back-wash area of the US--usually out-think and out-maneuver over 70% of the "adult" population.

And what is so magical about the last day your 17 and the first day your 18? One day you have no rights and the next BLAMO--you're suddenly a mature, responsible adult with full voting, drafting (yes, I know the draft is gone, but humor me), smoking, car-buying, credit-establishing, apartment-leasing powers. Does that make any sense? I never thought so. One of my favorite lines is:

How do you expect a bird that has been caged for eighteen years to suddenly know how to fly?

(apparently I'm talking about a parrot, because most birds don't live that long. that i know of)

Shouldn't we slowly dim on the lights? Which is to say, shouldn't we EASE into adulthood instead of hitting us with it overnight? I know it means more to me being only sixteen, and so not that many of those of you "voters" will be that interested in the topic, but--hey! Down here, on the bottom, next to your dirt-stained, spit-stained, piss-stained boots--we're down here, we younglings. We "children"--god I hate that word--we sacks of baggage that politicians like to throw around when trying to pass a law that cuts down on more peoples liberties and rights. You know:

"Think of the children!"

Fuck the children.

I proudly state that anything that infringes on RIGHTS of my fellow American's is nothing I will support. I know that I'm a "Child" and don't know what's good for me and you all of the voting populace should decide what I should watch and see and hear and say and do, and that if I watch or see or hear or do something which you consider "inappropriate" then I'm obviously a tainted vagabond of a sort that shouldn't be listened to, but I really don't want to be slung around like some big 12-inch salami of death that beats down and oppresses a populace of adults that I will SOONER THEN YOU THINK be joining.

So fuck the children. And stop using me as leeway.

Oh crap, I so totally lost track of my topic.

What I was saying is that I'm tired of being treated so poorly. Not "Rebellious" tired. Just--let me lay here and let you do your worst kind of tired. Is that what the entire thing was about? Was beating me down?

God, I just want to run away from all this hypocritical bullshit.

Man, I hate Michael Moore.

I'm sorry, I just had to say that. I remember him saying that we should join the politicians as soon as we turn 18 to sway the course of things. And then started thinking about "The Awful Truth" which is somewhere YOU DON'T EVEN WANT TO GO. Believe me. Man, I consider myself a liberal, but he fucking annoys the hell out of me.

Okay, I am SO not going there right now.

I love my boobs. My jail-bait boobs. God, I love them. They're so pretty. Though, being so supremely Irish as I am, I have freckles all over them. Typical.

But they're still pretty.

I like freckles. I don't see many girls with freckles out here. Wish I did. I'd be all over that.

Just finished watching "FIRE AND ICE" tonight. With David. First time for me and man did I love that princess... jiggling all over the place like that. I want to have sex with her. I really do. But, anyway, first time with that movie and it's made my "Way more then 10 movies TOP TEN" list.

I just like the sound of TOP TEN. Instead of, say, TOP FORTY-FIVE.

But, yes, I'm dating this guy (and this girl, incidentally, at the same time) and he's dating another lady out where he lives in the San Fran in Cali. And she just found out about me. Yeah... after seven months. NOT a smart move on his part, and I told him so.

God, he is such a great guy (despite his supremely shitty-ness about this). He's just been really pummeled down by his family.

You can see it when you see him. He's skittish, but he's also angry. Right there under the surface. He made good use of my punching bag while he was here.

The point is, though, that I'm in love with him. I'm SO in love with him. I don't think I couldn't be. I was in love with him even when we were "friends". Though, we were only that for some three months, maybe. I was in love with him since the first time I started talking to him about my stories, and he told me about his.

This distance and this age is killing me, though. This... this thing that we have, I would wait for years to keep it going, but I am frustrated, nonetheless. I AM human.

Never mind. Never mind.

It's nearly midnight here and I guess I should get this pile of clothes on my bed all hung up.

Keep yourself well and make sure you know who you are at all times.

I am so sick of "hello"s.

Doesn't take me too much to move me into action. All I need is a song, a few well-spoken words, a certain smell, a certain taste, a certain picture held in my hands. And I've had all of these in the last thirty-six hours. I've had more then enough of these.

Sometimes I need desperately to have something new. I need to feel that crisp kind of new-car feel to something. I need change. Some things can stay the same, but I need different environments. I need this.

Change is coming, too. I know it is, but it's a tick-tock of the clock that is driving me MAD. MADD. Mothers Against Destructive Decisions. Or Drunk Driving? Can't remember. Maybe it was SADD (Students Against Destructive Decisions) that I was thinking about just then. Never mind. Doesn't matter. Silly little turn in conversation, anyway.


Ever wanted something so bad that time seems to act all funny on you? Either it gets here before you know it, is gone before you can blink, or doesn't seem to come at all. Ridiculous. I have a feeling that there is a time-conspiracy going on. No science can prove it. But feel the wind. You can't see it, you just know it's there.

I stoll that directly from a movie, so don't quote me on it. Not like anyone would ever quote me.

I sometimes take these new shiny things (this blog, for instance) and over-use them. I may post more then seven entries in a day (seven is the most magical number, incidentally) or I may post seven entries in a year. I don't know. I never know. I'm making no promises. I will break no promises. I will make no lies.

Hold on, stay inside this.

Perfect lyric.

My playlist can sense which songs I want to hear. 1,324 songs spanning 85 hours, 50 minutes and 32 seconds. Then I just got three Dave Matthews albums that'll be added to it soon.

Everything from Jack Off Jill to Mozart to Oingo Boingo to Oasis. I took off the Richard Cheese, They Might Be Giants and Marilyn Manson for the sheer fact that the songs kept coming up and I'm not in the mood. So it's not my entire library, but it's close enough. I have closer to 2,400 songs in my library.

Counting the audio books and comedy, that is. Meh.

What was I saying?Yes, well, I am here. I am definitely here. I've checked myself seven times. I am most definitely where I am.