We Forgot All The Names, The Names We Used To Know

Posted on February 28, 2012 by

I never expected to live this long.  Thirty feels like thirty years longer than I should have lived.  I’m so endlessly impressed that I am still alive I am actually putting effort into the things I do.

Because I planned to be dead by now I never really planned for the future.  When everyone was trying to figure out where they wanted to be in five years or ten years, I didn’t care cause I was going to die.

Then I didn’t die.

I decided I wanted to write, not because I thought I was any good at it, but because it didn’t matter if I was successful at it.  I was going to die super young and hopefully that could catapult my shitty stories to super success.

Maybe some asshole would compile my work into an anthology of my poor choices and girls everywhere would read it as a cautionary tale.  But I didn’t die and everything I have ever written is just words I put together in my head when I am desperately trying not to focus on the details of my life.

I never bothered to love anyone because when you’re going to die young you need as little baggage as humanly possible.  Loving lots of people means they probably are going to love you back and then a lot more people get to be devastated when you die.  I gave up on loving cause I am selfish and silly.  But I lived anyway cause the future you plan on isn’t always the one you get.

I didn’t plan for anything, I just took a lot of chances and made a ton of reckless decisions.  Now I am thirty and I have to wonder, what the hell am I doing?  Now I have to make real decisions because there is a future awaiting me and it is so scary that I sort of wish I had just died.

I have a future and it probably will not have picket fences.  My future will likely be unconventional, but it might not be.  Some of the people that I never thought would settle down and engage in life, they are the people that have impressed me the most with their personal growth.

This year is so weird because it’s the first time that I can remember in my adult life where I have tried to make sense of things.  It’s the first year where I have had reality thrust upon me.  It’s the first time in my life where running away seems futile and destroying everything around me isn’t an option.

I have a future and I am more scared about it than I was ever scared about dying.

Posted in Getting shit done | 1 Comment

And Then I Buckled And Joined Tumblr

Posted on February 24, 2012 by

For years, at least it seems like years, Kayfabe has been on me about joining Tumblr.  It turns out I joined a long time ago so that I could like posts and follow people but until this week I vehemently refused to actually post there.

However, it became clear to me that I do not blog enough because sometimes it takes a long time to get what I want to say right and I regard this blog with more esteem than I did in 2002 when I would just post three fucking lines of something clever I thought up while lying in the shower and praying for sudden death from a hangover.

So, I Tumble or whatever the fuck you want to call it.  And I’ll probably be updating there a billion times a day because it’s super easy and I can do it from my stupid phone. I guess what I’m saying is, if you’re one of those readers that feels gipped cause I never post enough, simmer down, I got the e-mails and am doing this for you.

Now allow me to present you with Tits & Bricks, my fucking Tumblr account.  Go there.  Follow me.  Enjoy it.

Posted in Getting shit done | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

And Then Something Exceptional Happened

Posted on February 18, 2012 by

2012 is very difficult.  Not the sort of difficult where you feel like you are being defeated but instead where you open up and realize a great many things you have been trying to ignore for a very long time.  Ever since I broke my neck I vowed never to be hurt by anything.  To have no ties to anyone.  To never feel that sense of complete and total hopelessness where even in death you cannot be free.  Up until this point my very existence was based in trying to destroy everything around me, most of all myself.

But a wonderful thing continued to happen, no matter what I have done, no matter the people I’ve hurt and the wars I have waged I preserved a hidden hope inside myself for the future.  It may not be such a secret to other people, but I have been running for so long and from so much that I simply forgot that happiness may be in the cards for me, somehow.

Today, two exceptional things happened.  Firstly, I fell and I destroyed my face.  Not to the point beyond repair, but in the way where you sit in the mirror and think to yourself, “What ever did I do to my pretty face.”  And then I said it.  My.  Face.  Is.  Pretty.  It’s strange but I have never said that to myself or anyone else for that matter.  I like my face, there are things I wish were pristine, like my skin, but in the end, overall, I love my face.

Now my face is swollen, bruised and scraped.  In a way, it resembles the way I looked after my car accident.  Not exactly, but close enough where looking at myself in the mirror made me think about that accident and how I’ve spent the past 11 years trying to escape that terror.  But you cannot escape something like that.  That event becomes apart of you and rests inside of you everyday until you deal with it.  But I never dealt with it.

Instead I ran from it, partying, playing, seducing men and generally living in up as though each day were my last.  Every morning I’d be reborn and each night I would try to kill myself off again.  Wash.  Rinse.  Repeat.

Today, I decided that I was sick of not dealing with it.  I was sick of not dealing with everything.  Today, while I walked home I looked out into the city, stopping along a freeway overpass and into the night I yelled, “I’m frightened to care but I care so much.  I’m terrified to love but I love so hard.  I am finished hiding inside myself.  I am finished.”

And then I said one more thing, but softly and to myself, “I want to love someone and I want to be loved and that does not make me weak.”

I have never been one to sort things out with the help of others.  I am strangely private despite putting all my poor choices into print in this silly blog, but here I am explaining these things to no one in particular.  2012 might be more difficult than 2001, but for the first time since I got into that car I feel like there’s real hope for me, for all of us.

Posted in Getting shit done | Tagged , , , , , | 1 Comment

Let Me Tell You The Truth

Posted on February 13, 2012 by

I think what’s so interesting about my 2012 posts is the sincerity in my voice.  I usually regard my blog with the sort of bullshit bravado that makes me want to beat someone to death with my shoes.  However, the bravado is all bullshit and I feel like, for the past few years that fact has become increasingly more apparent to longtime readers who’ve seen the occasional glimpse of my true character.

I actually wrote this post in my head when I was walking through the city earlier tonight and I think it sounded much better then.  It always sounds so much better in my head when I am outside and thinking freely.  I am never thinking freely though cause inside my head I am a prisoner of my own thoughts.

I think the fact of the matter is that I spend a lot of time trying to calculate who I am in public, so much, that I definitely lose parts of myself in the process.  Part of this is purely survival and part of it’s because I am deeply insecure.

I keep wanting to start all these paragraphs with “I Think” but the fact of the matter is, I actually know these things.  I know that although I go on and on about how I am tough, calculating and cold-hearted I am, I am really soft, sensitive and deeply romantic.  And not in the flowers and fabricated bullshit Valentines day sort of way, but rather, hopeful and dedicated.

When I like someone, I am inclined to do everything I possibly can for them.  But when my feelings turn sour, it really is as though I could kill them any second I am forced to deal with them.  This is both terrifying and complicated because when I kill someone off in my head I can almost never recover to a place where I can see them as anything other than dead.

I am scared of so much but not dying.  Actually, I think dying is the one comfort I have come to rely on.  I think about dying all of the time, which isn’t that surprising given the fact that I have tangoed with death on a myriad of occasions and at this point it’s like a boyfriend I just cannot quit.  Still, I am obsessed with death.  I often wish I were dead and try to think of interesting ways in which I could die.

There are two phrases that I chant to myself when I am nervous, “I wish I was dead” and “I love myself.”  I am not sure which of the two is crazier.  I mostly have wished I was dead every day since I broke my neck.  I am probably truly insane but it the fact remains, I should be dead but I am not and instead I live in constant pain.  Some days are better than others but a simple, unintentional movement that wouldn’t bother most people can put me in the sort of pain that would make anyone wish they were dead.  Today is one of those days.

When I am like this, I cannot sleep, which is why I am writing all honest.  Partially, what do I have to lose?  Partially, I really wish my head would just finally fall off and I could be put out of my own misery.  If I could be put down like an animal, I probably would opt for it.

I am afraid.  I think a lot of the bravado comes from this.  I am just so afraid of everything that I’ve adopted the craziest personality quirks just so I can make it through each day.  I am 30-years-old and I will likely die alone.  I am past that point in my life where I think I can compromise and live with another human being.  I hate compromising.  I want things a certain way.  And that’s really sad cause it means I will sit alone in the dark at night scared, forever.  Oh, I’m afraid of the dark at 30, rich isn’t it?  I think, more than anything it’s why I like having a dog that snores like crazy.  She snores and it’s not really lonely or frightening, even though it really is.

God, I am trying to think of all the things I want to admit about myself so that I can get it over with and post it and not feel like I am imprisoned by my own lies anymore.  And the saddest part is, I’m not even sure they’re lies.

If I’ve ever been terrible to you, just know that I probably really enjoyed it.  And know that if I apologized, I probably did not mean it.  When I am hurt, even a little, I want to destroy you.  I want to bash a rock against your face until you can’t hurt me ever again.  In your pain I want all people to know that I am a loose cannon and that I cannot be controlled nor can I control how I react, even though I totally can.

I think, more than anything, I need people to know that I am just the same sad girl that would stay up all night reading cause books and the characters in them seemed like the only thing in the world that made any sense.  Still, when I read a book, I feel closer to the characters than all the people I have ever known and loved in my life.  Maybe it’s why I try to read less and less, with the hopes that instead of loving characters in books and being destroyed when they die, maybe, somehow I can have that with someone else.  I really am losing faith in the possibility, but as it is now, what do I have to lose?

2012 is the year of truth for me.  So just know, this is only the beginning of really interesting things.

Posted in Relationships | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

Let’s Talk About Sharing

Posted on February 10, 2012 by

I have never really been very good at sharing.  I’ll admit that openly and freely.  I am terrible at it because when I put something down I want to go back and see it exactly where I left it.  I’d much rather just tell you to take the item and keep it instead of share it.

Sharing means later when you put it god knows where I get to lose my mind cause that wasn’t the exact spot where I wanted it.  And God forbid you put it in your purse or pocket on accident.  I consider that stealing and then I mark you as a thief and desperately try to get over the fact that I want to smother you while you sleep.

Since I am not any good at sharing stuff, I am terrible at sharing people.  Men, to be exact, which is why I thought this recent situation I was in was kinda insane.  After I brought Married Guy to my sister’s birthday party, that idiot kid who said I was ignoring him wouldn’t come to the after party.

When I texted him and was like, “Common, you orchestrated this after party, get over here.”  His reply sort of boggled my mind.  I guess I could look it up and give it to you verbatim but I am too lazy for that, but essentially he said he couldn’t sit in a room where he was being ignored but that I should enjoy myself and his brother who’s the blonde version of himself.

Now let’s think about that, I am supposed to enjoy his brother?  What sort of weird comment was that?  It didn’t really dawn on me how weird it was until his brother got there and started hitting on me.  Was I in Swimming With Sharks and both of these idiot brothers think they can bang me?

Of course I flirted with the blonde brother cause he really is the cuter one but then I was like, “Whoa, Cognata.  Way too weird.”  And eventually just ignored him too and went home.

I probably would have let the whole thing just kinda die except for the fact that the next day my sister was like, “The idiot kid says that you should bang his brother if you want.”

Uh, excuse me?  That comment really got me to thinking that this was really a super weird situation, especially since my sister said it all nonchalantly but she happens to be in the middle of this strange Free Love phase where I can see how she might support this, but it’s still crazy.

But the more I thought about it, the stranger it was.  You can’t give someone permission to have sex with your brother.  You can’t even set that sort of thing up.  It’s weird and presumptuous.  And most of all crazy.  When something is too crazy for me then it’s ultimately crazy.

If I am still conflicted about having sex with a married man, why would I suddenly want to have sex with the brother of a guy I’d already had sex with.  To be perfectly honest, I am pretty sure I saw this on an episode of Maury, only the sister wasn’t like, “You should bang the other one too.”

Sharing isn’t something you’re supposed to do with a penis or a brother or brother’s penises cause that’s like, I dunno, bizarre.  And even though I have all these strange stories I am racking up, I don’t want one where I am like, then I passed myself along to the brother cause ultimately, I have zero self worth, cause the fact of the matter is, I do.

I guess what I am getting at is the whole world has gone mad and coming from someone who markets herself as clearly insane, you should all be worried.

Posted in Bad Ideas | Tagged , , , , , , | 1 Comment

And Man, That Girl Was Gone

Posted on February 9, 2012 by

Sometimes, I just have to disappear.  I get truly over stimulated by all the people, places and things.  Sometimes, I just need a vacation from the constraints of my life.  Sometimes, it’s not even the people portion of my life that need rearranging, but really just the life itself.

This week, I have been playing with that idea of life.  What sort of boring, sad loser has to stay out all night, every night?  A sad, lonely bastard.  I keep asking myself, why the fuck was I emerging from a party dungeon sometime after dawn, every night for close to a month?

I was on the sort of party binder that makes you want to stay home for the rest of the year.

So I decided to take a vacation from my life for something a little more domestic and a tad more low key.  I’ve been at my friend’s house for the past week:  writing, vegging out and playing with children.  I have done this all in pajamas.  Pajamas are awesome.  But it’s nice to take a reprieve from the party monsters and spend my evenings with people who want to just play Scrabble and talk ideas.

Why am I not spending more time with people that care about ideas?  Why have I created a set of rules and values where no one cares about anything other than being the center of attention in a room of the saddest people on Earth?  Because I am afraid of what I can get done and what I may not accomplish at the same time.

I’m going to venture that none of my party friends have achieved even a modicum of success cause they waste all their time constantly chasing down the perfect party.  If I can tell you anything, there is no perfect party.  There’s just tiny moments your drunk brain hangs onto.  Situations you want to consistently recreate with the hopes of validating that empty part of your soul that can never be satiated.

What I’m saying isn’t that people should stop drinking or stop having fun or never go out again, but there’s something to be said for a solitary cocktail and a very competitive game of Jenga.  And there’s more to be said about doing it in pajamas with like-minded people.

It’s really possible I still have no idea what I am talking about but perhaps there is hope for me if the world does not end.  And perhaps that hope is in falling asleep before 9am and being productive throughout the day.  And maybe that’s not for me at all, but it’s nice to get up and make coffee and do the crossword puzzle in the perfect peace of the early morning.

Only I needed to figure this out by taking a leave of absence from my life.  Now I just need to figure out if I ever want to go back or not.  Memories are made of these.

Posted in Getting shit done, partying, Relationships | Tagged , , , , , | 3 Comments

Image

Last night was extremely fucking weird.  Extremely.  Married Boyfriend was my date to Gia’s birthday party.  I didn’t eat for two days and dressed up like a fucking hot pink honey bee.  God, I should just start from scratch and tell the whole truth.

I have been acting like a lunatic.  It’s why the writing is so fucking vivid and real.  When I am killing off something and destroying people like a giant wave just washing everything out, that’s when my writing is the best.  I want to keep writing.

The truth of the matter is I made the mistake of having sex with a friend of mine and it was really a fucking poor choice.  But it was a weird time and I had just gotten my DUI and I was like super committed to doing whatever I wanted regardless of consequence.

And then I ended up liking him.  But it was weird cause it wasn’t like I wanted to run off into the sunset or date him.  He’s a fantastic person and the last thing I wanted to do was hurt him.  It’s funny how I always come back to that.  I didn’t want to hurt him.  I always end up hurting them so much more than they ever hurt me.

I didn’t want to hurt him but I couldn’t have him and I turned into the shitty, petulant child that I am and for the past couple of weeks I have just become increasingly more terrible.  It’s like I have to treat him like a fucking whipping boy because I am confused, which all came to a fantastic crescendo where I was crying in the streets Monday night.

I can’t have you.  I don’t want you.  I want.  I want.  I want.  I am like a fucking terrible puppeteer who has to just fuck with everyone’s everything.  I think it’s cause I’m a bad person.  I’m getting philosophical again.

So this poor boy, that got himself caught up in my wrath with my friends, this poor fucking bastard–with the world’s kindest eyes.  When I realized I couldn’t have him.  I had to destroy him instead.  And my sister said it all, “You’re so selfish, you are going to orchestrate this shit show so that you can get whatever you want and you are going to totally disregard everyone.”

Everyone.  Disregarded.

So, like I tend to, I have been ignoring him because that’s easier to me.  To kill someone off with mind bullets rather than just sit down with them and explain that I am filled with my own sad, crazy, weirdo bullshit.

And then I invited Married Guy as my date.  I invited him and I wore a fucking t-shirt as a dress as to say, “Fuck you, I need to express the fuck out of my inner whore.”  And I ignored that super nice guy all night cause what the fuck else was I supposed to do?  I ignored everyone, and I just sat on Married Guy’s lap and he asked me if I wanted to go away with him.

Of course I want to go away with him.  And now I’ll probably run away with him, you know, for a time.

But I did everything I wanted to do, which was just point out to this really nice guy that he doesn’t know me.  What he knows about me is so fantastically limited.  I’m not a good person.  I’m not a nice person.  And I can make you hurt without trying.  Although, to be fair, I really tried.

When I talk to a man, when I talk to a man I like, he is the only person in the world to me.  And last night he was not that man.  I’m not sure he ever was.

Posted on February 3, 2012 by | 1 Comment