Friday, May 6, 2011

mom, you're rad

thanks for teaching me to:

put everyone's needs before my own

intolerance for cheerleaders, adult people with baby personas, and country music

have a testimony

keep a flower garden

do a grapevine

Monday, May 2, 2011

everyday seems the same:

wake up with a small beasts paws pressed into my side
ew, is that my side? i better go to the gym today
do everything BUT go to the gym
walk to the coffee shop with the intention to buy coffee then having an inward freudian struggle over why not to buy the coffee, but wanting the coffee really badly and ultimately 2 out of 7 of the times buying the coffee
read a book for 10 minutes but not concentrate
get up and move away from the evil necessity to concentrate
attempt some pilates moves, give up
put on my xxl red roof inn top with a any of my 3 pairs of work pants too small for me to even button
remember i was meant to go to the gym and i'm outrageoulsy fat
eat a handful of chocolate chips
get into my car and listen to the same radio station predicting the same songs to be played in teh same succession
feel guilty about being at work while my dog is at home
rediscover over and over how irritating the general public is and feel completely disconnected from the world
go home and surf the same 3 websites
lay down and think the most anxious and uncomfortable thoughts
wake up 5-7 hours later
do it again.

Saturday, April 30, 2011


recently, i've heavily contemplated deleting this pathetic blog after reading so man inspirational blogs of friends or accquaintences that lead more glamorous lives than mine, that are more photogenic, more self-confident, that are certainly more articulate, more creative, and wittier, but then just as i was poised over the delete button, i reconsidered. all of my life i have been comparing myself to what i want so badly to be- anyone but me, anyone but this sickly, obsessively, genuinely self loathing girl who has never met her own standards in any regard. ever. and what i want is to post this on my blog and to not have anyone read it, to just have an intimate space for me to dump and contrive my thoughts without the pressure of moulding them into an aesthetically pleasing format, because lets face it, i've never been good at anything aesthetically pleasing, and i hope to hell that no one reads this, but i hope to hell if they do they somewhat understand this insatiable desire. the desire not to always be deleting and hiding, frantically searching for some serenity or some emotional balance which never comes, and only compels me to delete, retreat, and disappear further striving for the unobtainable. if that makes any sense? but then to hell with sense, i'm continually self contradicting. my life is an unnecessary crisis and its tiring.