Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Uncanny of you.

My room isn't clean. I haven't brushed my teeth. I'm tired. I'm weary. I wish I didn't have to hear the lies anymore. I wish I was stronger than this. I wish more people understood that they make me tired. And it's nothing personal. I promise. But then I try to imagine myself out of this life and into another, butIcan't. I don't know what I want. Because if everything worked perfectly all the time, I wouldn't know what I do. So then I can only wish for the little things. For example, I wish my knee could just be healed all the way. Right now. Just. Goodnight.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Zoinks.

You knock-knocked
I who's-thered
and cringed
at the rattle and shake
of rusty hinges
And the door creeped open
I put your pen
to the page
and when I finished,
I wasn't sure how the scribblings of my name
had inked up that document
I hadn't read
the fine print
and before I knew it,
I was being wheeled through Hell,
but I couldn't figure out why
the halls were lined with
children
All I knew
is I just wanted to be
back
listening to the rain pittering
watching that iron rust red,
it dripped blood tears,
wearing away
So finally I was thrown
back into the dust
I'd so carefully
swept
every speck into place
triple-check,
sleep.

Monday, March 7, 2011

La la $

The other day somebody gave me $100 cash for Honduras.
I almost cried. I still owe $800, and most of it is way overdue.

I will trust.

Friday, February 25, 2011

Alphabetical geometrical infatuational information.

I don't think people realize how close God is.
God made circles.

Monday, February 21, 2011

Wolf.

I've been feeling a fair amount of social anxiety lately. Not being unable to socialize, but replaying encounters and conversations over and over in my head, noting all the incredibly stupid things I did or said, and hating myself for them.
Now for the funny part. But don't laugh at me.
Whenever I am in an "anxiety attack" (okay, maybe that's not the right word for it), I repeat the alphabet. Sometimes it begins involuntarily.
I sort of wanted to tell [Joan of Arc] about it, but I thought No, repeating stuff is for crazy people. Besides, I know what she'd tell me. She'd tell me to pray. So I will. But it wasn't the same as her telling me. So it didn't work.
Last night I remembered something I did that, in my mind, was stupid. So... abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz. But halfway through, I stopped myself and said out loud (well, whispered), "No. You don't need the alphabet." I realized how much I actually liked the word "alphabet". I was thinking about it. Alphabet. Alpha. Bet. Alpha. Alpha and Omega.
Sure, the meaning could be reduced to Greek roots, but I knew (because of other recent happenings) it was sort of a message from God.
I could call Him "Alpha".

Friday, February 18, 2011

This is what happens when you.

It gets confusing. The way I feel one thing one day and another thing the next, and I'll find myself a new normal, only to have it shattered by a bad week. Again.
Hey, I don't care.
I'm a child.
I've got so much ahead of me. I can do anything I want to.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Dear diary.

Yesterday I hooped for two hours.
Last night I slept for ten hours.
This morning I'm baking cookies. Again.

Monday, February 7, 2011

Have at it.

He's been eating since Mom left.
Right now he's eating in the living room. We tell him every. single. day. he's not allowed to do that.
I don't even know if he's still playing his Xbox. I'm too tired to go make sure he hasn't somehow gotten a hold of some raunchy movie.
He didn't vaccuum the family room. Mom told him to.

He doesn't learn. And I don't mean that in a frustrated, ughsheeshwhenishegonnagrowup way. He'll never grow up, except by some miracle. His birth mother took that away from him.
I care about him, but it's hard to really love him.
And most of the things I say in regards to him, only one who knows someone who's like him would understand.

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Well, well.

I don't know.
I've been busy.
In four days, I need $400.

Today is for me. I'm not going to be anxious today.
I feel like there's a space between God and me. Maybe I'm listening to Him, maybe I'm following His will, but when I go to pray, I have to cross a chasm. Like we're running two separate roads. And they're mostly parallel. I'm just not close enough.

I can't imagine the lives other people live. That's not what I want to say. I don't know how to say what I want to say. I can't imagine how other people live. I want to say, "without God", but that would make God sound optional, like me believing makes Him real to me and only me.
And when I step back, I can understand why an outsider would be repulsed by "Christianity". Because "Christianity" is so much about the "church" nowadays, and when you get a bunch of human beings together and make it the definition of Christianity, you're going to have problems.
I hate to sound cliche, but your relationship with the one and only God is yours. Yours. Not the church's.
That was rambling. But that's okay, because this is for me. Not you.

Sunday, January 23, 2011

That doesn't help.

Insert here.

Screw you, you ARE still fat, you didn't get the body you wanted I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you.
I don't know if it's just this stupid cold, but the past few days I have not felt like socializing AT ALL.

And that stupid thing keeps coming back I hate youIhateyouIhateyouIhateyouIhateyou.

Friday, January 21, 2011

Ochre.

I had another one of those epiphanies the other night.
I'm not fat anymore. I'm. Not. Fat. Any. More.
I used to equate "fat" with "me", so now, outside of these epiphanies, I can't imagine myself as not fat, because if there's no fatness, there's no me.

I don't feel any smaller. When you're fat you imagine that, if you lost weight, you could feel your fat bubble around you, and imagine your skinny self aware of that feeling. It doesn't work that way. When you're thin, you still fill out your skin.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Noit'snotjustbequiet.

Today I lost a $50 check, I unintentionally might have not yielded to a car because I was tired and distracted, my life flashed before my eyes when an idiot driver passed a car a hundred feet in front of me on a double yellow line, and came home tired and hungry from seven hours of babysitting to a mess of a kitchen and no dinner even begun.
Excuse me while I wallow in self-pity.

And now I am so weary. Why is this always the case? I come away from any more than a few hours of social activity, and I just want to sit down and zone out and weep and never wake up.

I hate everything.

Also, I think I have a nothing box.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

What are you?

I'm sorry.
I couldn't quit thinking about feeling that... thing bloom in my head, like paint dropped into a jar of water, I'm sorrysorrysorrysorry.
I think he does that on purpose- waits for a time when he knows you'll be most convicted afterwards, and then. pounce. He does a good job, clean cut, no mess on his part.
I can't think about it anymore.

Now, in this moment, I guess this is feeling God. He feels good. Soft, but not fuzzy. Gentle, but not weak. Gracious, but not incapable. Loving, but not naive.
Why can't I seem to carry Him with me?
"God", "Bible", "church", and my immediate thoughts involve peppermints during the offering and waiting for our dinner time prayers to be over so we can just get on with it.

I remember curling up on the church seats and putting my hands over my infected ears because the music was too loud. Rolling around and kicking on my bedroom floor on Sunday mornings, screaming that I wished I was dead, or that everything was perfect. Begging for Altoids and more stories, because my stomach hurt. Fourth grade, talking with the counselor every recess hour about stomach aches and stupid friends. Sitting at my desk at home with my little blue decorated notebook, turning inward on myself. Resting on the couch, wrapped up in an afghan because I was too tired to do anything.
I don't think things are supposed to work the way they did.
But I'm thankful for this moment.

Saturday, January 8, 2011

N. O.

I. am. not. interested. in. boys.
I hate it when they can't take a hint.

Friday, January 7, 2011

Aeiou. Y.

I bought my mom a kitchen timer for Wisemen's Day. She's using it right now. It ticks very quiety about three times per second. I have to synchronize my chewing and toe-tapping with it.

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Hippopotamus toes.

In second grade, I missed two weeks of school for a stomach ache. The doctors prescribed Zantac and told me I had acid reflux. But looking back, I'm positive I did not. I don't remember my esophagus burning or stomach cramping. What I remember is a dull pain and buzzing in my head that only flared up when I thought about it.
I was anxious. I was just anxious.
And as I got older, I just learned to ignore the stomach ache. I dealt with anxiety with a behavior that was almost obsessive-compulsive. Double- and triple- checking to make sure that I'd done all my homework and it was all packed up and ready to go in my backpack. Agonizing over not forgetting a napkin or fork or whatever I needed for my lunch. I cried once when I forgot my flute, because it was the second time that quarter, so I'd get a detention. The only thing I ever let slip was my library fine.
And then I dropped out. I'm sort of proud of that.
Now I can dream about things. I've derailed my mind from the average track, and I've learned that I don't have to go to college, that there are ways of travelling that don't include minivans and tents or airplanes and hotels, that people dance inside cubes and hoops and fabric suspended from the air, that there is a circus guild twenty minutes from where I live, that people share houses sometimes, that hula-hooping is a sport, that pole dancing will be in the Olympics, that people volunteer all over the world in exchange for room and board, that there are houses made of mud and hay, that the devil can't read your mind, that Cool Whip is made of hydrogenated vegetable oil, that there are six negative emotions, that there is a thing called slam poetry, that gelatin is made from cow hooves, that there is a difference between carbs, protein, and fat, that car horns honk in the key of F, that manual is more fun than automatic transmission, that you have to pay taxes on cars from private sellers, that turkeys stink worse than pigs...
I still need help solving quadratic equations and remembering the order of the Bill of Rights, but I can read you the poem I wrote last night, and I can play you one of Chopin's nocturnes, and I can show you what hoop dance looks like, and I can bake you a damn good batch of cookies.

I'm going to pray for you.

Monday, January 3, 2011

Well maybe.

I've sort of begun writing a book. The few words I've written so far are all jumbled and chaotic, but if God wills it, it won't be too hard to organize when I'm finished. If I finish.
I will finish.

Saturday, January 1, 2011

Feasible things.

Happy New Year. Merry Christmas. Happy Hannukah. Joyful Kwanzaa.
Sweet Jesus hold me and let me breathe.