priorities

I used to always haul this enormous load of crap with me whenever I would move as if it were all so valuable, but now lately I've had to travel light, cuz I'm living in two cities at once, and it's made me realize how little I really need or care about most of my stuff. It's kind of nice to think that I can fit my whole life into a duffel bag. Or even just a backpack. I feel free in a way.

Now if only I would do something cool with my life instead of wasting away being stupid.

How do people get so INSPIRED? How do people come up with these ideas for books or movies or paintings or music or architecture or fashion or ANYTHING that contributes to the artistic culture of our world? I want to be that involved in what's going on around me. I want to have that level of comprehension, to appreciate the intricate nature of everything.

I took a walk to the beach and tried to make myself hopeful. I got to the water and I looked out at the waves crashing and the beauty of it gave me this sense of peace and well-being. Despite my ugly anxious mood.

I'm only twenty-one and yet it seems so old almost because so far I've mostly just used up my years on idiocy.











.

"I think with writing you have to fill yourself up first or you won't have anything to pass on."
~Francine Larson








.

Tidbit and Yum Yum -- A Blossoming Romance?

Yum Yum is a girl shark and you can see that she is very beautiful. I made her to be a companion for Tidbit, my stuffed boy shark that my friend bought me. Tidbit was always humping my leg and the furniture and stuff and I just thought he would be happier if he had a girlfriend. They haven't met yet cuz I left him in Vista and I'm in San Diego right now, but I'm going up there for the weekend and hopefully they will hit it off. I'll put up pictures of them together maybe if all goes well.

.

over

I loved him as a way to pass the time.
I loved him out of curiosity.
I loved him because in many ways he charmed me beautifully,
but he just left me pissed off and lonely far too often so I had to bail.

I gave him all the chances he could take to win the love he wanted from me,
before it got redundant and I realized it could never be.
I tried so genuinely hard to respect him but ultimately we couldn't connect
and it was a waste of my energy.

.



So I've been away from the internet for awhile, which is why I haven't updated at all. But I've been writing in my journals, for myself, and that's the important thing to me, that I am always writing something somewhere.

Keeping journals is kind of scary to me though. I mean having my words so raw and personal on paper for anybody to find and read. Just the other day I caught Bobby trying to read one of my journals he saw poking out of my purse. He just grabbed it and flipped to a page and started reading while I was busy distracted in the kitchen. Luckily I noticed him in time before he got to read a whole lot, and he just HAPPENED to land on the page where all I wrote was about how I dived into a dumpster with my friend Eric. He COULDA very well fucking landed on the page just before that one where I wrote all about how I almost cheated on him and I didn't but I wanted to.

I have to hide all of my journals when I'd rather not have to fret, I like to just keep them all stacked up on top of one another on a shelf out in the open where I can browse through or add entries to them whenever I'm in the mood to grab a book from the pile, but that's probably dumb because I bet it makes a tempting display for snoopy micksnoopsters like Bobby to violate, except for some reason I can't bring myself to hide them all away I just rip out the worst pages and trash them and hope that's good enough.

"What kind of things do you think are worth writing about?" I ask, sitting in the computer chair staring at the screen feeling frustrated because I don't know what I really want to say about anything.

Blue is not very helpful. "I don't know," he answers absentmindedly, and I look over at him loafing on the couch with his legs propped up on the coffee table, watching tv and playing idly with his limp dick which he's got hanging out over his boxers and his pants. "Kaylen says she's on her way," he informs me.

Ah well. I gotta go. Things are happening. Sorry for not writing as much lately. I'll be back, I've just been busy and stuff.

scummy slag

"You have a lot of explaining to do," Bobby says, wondering what exactly happened.

"I'm retarded," I tell him.

"You're not retarded," he answers with a sweetness that catches me off-guard because I don't feel as if I deserve it, and my heart breaks because it's so nice to hear but such a fucking lie. I can't believe he doesn't say one judgemental word about me in the whole conversation. When I'm so ashamed and I feel as if there are a thousand things he could say to make me look bad.


How can I explain? It was hot. I didn't have a shirt on, just my bathing suit top and jeans. I had my houndstooth duffle bag and my leapard-print backpack and a courdoroy purse with me, I was gonna get on the coaster and travel back to San Diego so I could visit my family there for a couple of weeks, give my dad his Father's Day gift and attend my sister's birthday party, while I finished driving school and took care of some money business with my dad and the trustfund. So I'm walking in the sun and this guy stops me in his car and asks if I'm alright.

I don't even know what that means when he says it. Why wouldn't I be alright? I'm fine. I'm walking along, going my own way, and I don't really need to be bothered by anybody. Sure, it's hot, and my bags are heavy, but I'm super tough. I like the suffering. I'm happy. I tell him it's okay and he stills puts on such an air of concern. He offers me a ride, as if it is a heroic deed.

I'm like, "No, thanks, but you could be a murderer and I wouldn't know. Sorry. It's very nice of you to offer though. I just don't feel safe." I smile at him in a friendly way and it's all wrong, it makes him brave when I want him to shut up and drop it and leave me alone. It's my way of being polite but he simply sees me acting available. He tries to talk me up. For some reason he feels the need to tell me that his father is a very important man and also that he has very clean hands. And I think he says some stuff about how he's like, a good guy, and I ought to trust him. I can barely remember now. It's totally lame. It's not like he charmed me in the slightest. I have no idea what persuaded me to get in the car except that he wouldn't leave me alone and I got all curious and reckless and stupid.

At first he puts on like he's actually interested in getting me home, he makes a big show of stopping off at the transit station to ask a security guard about how I can get to San Diego, although I don't see the point of it because I already know myself how to plan my trip, and he's made me keep my bags in the car because he says he'll just give me a ride to the other station later after we hang out a small while.

So I end up in some motorcycle shop feigning interest in this fucking bike he's got for sale there, still without my shirt on, and his friend who works there asks why I've got glitter all over my face and body, and I tell him it's actually the last of my glitter and I desperately need to get some more, and it really gives me pause because I'm kind of addicted to being sparkly at all times and I secretly start to stress out about how I am going to find myself a shop that sells glitter dust. I make a mental note to get more glitter as soon as possible.

He wants to have a drink. We end up in some oceanfront bar and he says I can have anything. So I order probably six random things to get my full alcoholic experience. I am not really enjoying this man's company too tremendously but I don't really expect to and I'm just kind of amusing myself by being happy for the hell of it. I'm still not wearing a shirt. All this guy talks about his how rich he is, and how sexy I look. Over and over, these are his two main topics of interest. I'm the biggest fucking idiot who ever lived because I do NOT want him as my sugardaddy and yet that is obviously where this is headed and I'm losing my options for a way out with each hour that passes by because once it gets dark I am going to have a shitty time trying to get home.

He decides not to give me a ride to the other station after all, but to molest me in his car while he drives drunk to another bar where he was supposed to meet with his friends. He's popping my boobs out of my suit and fondling them with one hand while the other is on the wheel, and he tells me I have the most amazing tits, he keeps using the word "Areola" to talk about my nipples, it makes me sick but somehow seems funny so I don't shove him off, I tell myself it's all fine, it's nothing, it's not really that bad. Then he tries to feel my pussy and I'm like, "NOOO!!!" But somehow he gets in my pants and he's poking around but he doesn't actually get IN my cunt but he's feeling all over it like the most giant pervert in the world telling me it's lovely and talking about how I am definitely tight.

Then we're at that other bar which is set up outside, and he leaves me alone for ten minutes while he's off I have no idea where and I never meet his friends, I'm sipping Stone ale and talking to some chick next to me about God knows what and the sun is shining all around and the day seems like it will never end. When he comes back he says we're gonna go have sushi at this nice place. I put on my big ti-dye "I'm Fresh" t-shirt before we go in the restaurant. The conversation turns to various ex-lovers of his. I watch his fat fingers grabbing at a bunch of huge shrimp on his plate and he stuffs it all into his slobbery fucking greedy mouth and I realize I'm done with this man and it's time for us to part. So when we go back to the car I ask about my going home and he makes a phone call but then apologizes because apparently his limo driver is too drunk to come pick me up and anyway he wants to take me to get high with his friend won't that be nice?

When I say I feel kind of vulnerable and scared about being with him anymore he gets angry and refuses to understand what I am talking about. He starts chewing me out saying when we get to his friend's house I'd better act normal. I ask if I can make a phone call because my cell phone is broken, and I call Bobby to tell him I'm not dead so he won't worry about me. I almost feel better after that but I know it's going to be a bad night anyway after all the sexy bullshit I let happen. He's going to try to bone me and I'm going to have to shut him down which will piss him off. And I don't know how I lost my shirt in the first place but when we go to enter the house he won't let me put it back on because he says that fucking shirt makes me look twelve years old and I have to go in there all exposed.

There is a sweet Mexican lady in the house with a cute little baby and a very hostile dog. His friend is very old, and tall, and skinny, and white. He takes me with his friend to some other dude's house where I see a lot of money flash around and his friend apparently buys the guy's boat. While we're waiting for the guys to finish their paperwork I'm alone with my kidnapper, whose name is Abe I forgot to mention, and he's telling me about how he misses cuddling with his ex-wife but he had to dump her because she lusted after cocaine too hardcore and he thought that was trashy. I offer to be his new cuddle buddy, because I like to cuddle, but I don't feel any true affection I am just trying to pretend I care about this man to make myself feel warm inside instead of sick and sad. He brightens up though, he really does, he seems so pleased that I am offering love.

So we light up with his buddy when we get back to the house, and then Abe and I are sitting on the couch stoned and he's sharing his dreams about being my sugardaddy with me, talking about the way he's going to throw his money at me, how I'm going to be taken care of, and the Mexican lady offers me coffee and a shirt. It's good coffee, Columbian. The shirt is probably made for a pre-teen, it barely fits and it's itchy, it's this long-sleeved silver and blue striped sweater thing. But I wear it in the hopes that it will give me some kind of dignity. I try to drink my coffee and feel fine but I am in the worst mood ever, I have to run away to the bathroom and cry uncontrollably in there, thinking about how I am stranded with this horny old guy and it's all my fault, and there happens to be a house phone in the room so I pick it up and call Bobby again, but he doesn't answer so I cry into the phone leaving a message about how I'm a hopeless moron, and then I go back out there trying to breathe easy and act straight but I just look at the Mexican lady and burst into tears, and she's asking what is wrong with me, and Abe tells her I'm tired, and then he tells her I got very drunk earlier, and I try to play it off like I am just some over-emotional dumb broad, and I try to smile and tell her I'm alright, and we rush out the door with Abe wanting to kick me in the face. And he drives me to some shitty motel, promising to take me home in the morning, angry with me for being sad, chewing me out like I am some sort of unappreciative brat after the nice day he has tried to give me. I refuse to take off anything but my shoes when we slip into bed which annoys him, and he keeps trying to grope me everywhere but I grab his hands and push them away rather coldly every time. I think about what a fucking pea-brain I am for allowing myself to be put in such an uncomfortable position, for being so unrealistically carefree. I can't stand the thought of him trying to touch me in my sleep so I stay up all night pushing him off while he tries to fuck me over and over and over and over and over and over again. When his lips are on my face he gets his spit all over me. He calls me a disappointment.

Oh, and he calls my boobs his twins. I'm like, "They're not YOUR twins!" and he's like, "Okay, OUR twins." And I'm like, "NO!" but I'm laughing histerically at him for totally missing the point. And he's not amused in the slightest. Seriously, he's really peeved that I'm not putting out because he knows all of his dreams are shot, that I'm not ready and willing to be his little sex toy. At least he's not a rapist though.

As soon as the sun comes up we're out the door because the tension is so fucking high we can't even stand to be near one another anymore. The whole ride home is painfully silent except when he asks for directions to my house, and it takes more than an hour to get there so you can imagine the level of awkwardness. I feel like there is nothing to say, like if I am friendly he will just want to bone me more and if I am mean he will just drop me off in the gutter to die and there is nothing to do but sit quietly and stew. He fiddles with the radio a lot, barely ever settling on a song. For a moment I am happy when he picks a tune by Simon & Garfunkle. When he drops me off I go to my room and get stoned to calm my frazzled nerves. Then I call Bobby and he is wildly worried and I feel like the only thing worse than hurting myself is making somebody who cares about me watch me drown and I don't really know how to apologize for anything I just hope maybe in the future I might be able to manage to look out for myself a little better.

oddness

So I just bought this awesome necklace for only fifty-nine cents, it's got the most amazing pendant, it's a little plastic rock that glows neon green pretty much all the time, except when it's in a super bright environment it seems kind of pale, and there's a real dead bug trapped inside of it. A REAL DEAD BUG! I'm wearing a dead bug stuck inside of a glowing rock around my neck! It looks very cool. It is my new favorite thing. You should all be super jealous.

ugh

So I let this creepy rich old guy kidnap me the other day and it was horrible and I started crying that I wanted to go home but he bitched me out. And I ended up stuck sleeping alone with him in this fucking hotel room out in the middle of fucking nowhere and all night, over and over and over, he kept attempting to seduce me. And when he rode me home finally in the morning, we had such an awkwardly quiet and cold angry vibe going on between us, we wouldn't even speak to one another at all even though the drive was more than an hour long, he just kept fiddling with the goddamn radio while I stared wistfully out the window. And every once in awhile he would look over at me and just sigh this really fucking pissy sigh, or I would look over at him and sigh a pissy sigh of my own. And when he let me out of the car in front of my house we could barely manage a pleasant goodbye. So now I'm in my room smoking the weed he gave me and feeling a high amount of self-loathing. Fucking Christ. I am such an idiot.

"Try to point my finger
but the wind
keeps blowing me around
in circles"

-A Camp

"Please put on some make-up," she begs me,
and then a few minutes later she's coming at me with this bottle of perfume,
spritzing me by surprise before I can move out of the way and escape
with this godawful overly-sweet cheap musky scent
and then she COMMANDS me to wear heels instead of tennis shoes
and when we're in the cab she makes some comment about fucking me later
and I'm like, "Dude, no, I'm seriously not fooling around with ANYBODY anymore,"
but she's like, "We'll see" all snobby like she's got seductive powers I can't even resist
and then later she's got me in bed with this dude who
I told her repeatedly already I DID NOT want to have a threesome with
but they're both touching me and telling me to join in
and finally I'm like okay whatever and I give him a kiss
and when she starts talking saying something stupid I'm like,
"You know what? Shut up and suck it,"
and I force her mouth back down onto his cock and watch her choke.

God I hate that girl.

Writing

God, it's right when life is so busy happening and the best things are going on, that's when I want to write everything down, and yet I don't really sit down later when I've got free time, I don't sit down and think and write out the words to tell the stories, and capture these moments, I lose these moments to the wind and they are gone.









.

Hannah

"But I want a nap!" I say begrudgingly but with a gentle loving tenderness to my voice, waving her off as I loaf in bed with a pillow over my face. She wants me to play around more. I'm like, "Can't you find a way to entertain yourself alone?" She tells me there is nothing to do but maybe eat some brownies or something. Which sounds kind of stupid to me and I get a little bit concerned. "This is not good!" I tell her. "If you can't find a way to fight boredom on your own, you just won't have as much fun in life."

She tries to get creative, decides to let me nap for a little bit and while I rest she makes up a scavenger hunt. So when I wake up she hands me a note with a hint on it about where the next note is, and I have to search all around the house for these silly notes, one after another, while she is at my side rooting me on. And finally I get to the last note, which will lead me to my prize, and I ask her what the prize is and she says, "ME!" and holds her arms out wide like she just has so much in the world to offer and I tackle her with a big hug. On the back of the last note it says, "Thanks for coming over". Which I find rather sweet.




.

beat you with a wet condom water balloon and make you deep throat it

I'm waiting at the sex clinic, this time in Vista, with my new poet/writer/sadly dark and deep thinker friend Sabrina. Kaylen is getting herself felt up by some old lady nurse in a doctor's office somewhere in the building and Sabrina and I are just sitting there in the waiting room watching the tv they've got hanging up high in the corner of the room and it's tuned to some ridiculous celebrity-obsessed channel.

"You know what I just realized the other day about beauty?" I say to her. I like this girl. I could tell at first she was afraid to like me but I acted super nice and friendly and made her laugh and suddenly she warmed up and even told me personal heavy stuff about herself without my even probing. So we're in this comfy place with our conversation and she's interested in hearing me go on, looking at me sweetly and listening. So I go on.

I'm like, "If EVERYBODY was beautiful, beauty wouldn't even matter at all. I mean, you'd be with some guy, and he'd be like, 'Hey, you're totally perfectly supremely hotly sexually alluring and everything, but so is this other chick I know like absolutely to the maximum degree too, and she's really cooler than you as a person, so I'm just gonna go with her.' I mean, beauty wouldn't even score you anything above anybody, the most important thing would actually be YOUR PERSONALITY. So really, the only thing that makes beauty so important in this world is the fact that not everybody HAS beauty, which is totally bullshit because the idea of beauty is only a matter of perspective."

"You know, that's true actually," she agrees with bemused enthusiasm. "And what is ugly really anyway?" she ponders.

"I know, seriously," I say happily, glad to have somebody with me on this.

This whole thing dawned on me when I was listening to this stupid country song the other day, sung by this flawlessly unfairly cute chick, and she was going on about how some guy rejected her for another girl who was probably totally pretty and she was whining that she never made any real deep connections with anybody and she just wanted love and she wished that guy cared about her. It came to me, I was like, Oh my God. This girl is gorgeous but her looks failed her in the end, they weren't enough to earn her anything truly substantial in a relationship with a dude. Why should I ever care about not being hot enough when the truth is there is no such thing as being hot enough. Being hot is never enough on it's own to get you anything but a cock for a night if you're even interested in that kind of lust. I'm not going to fucking torture myself anymore with shame about not being the most lovely thing to ever grace the eyes of man. It's just shallow for me to think along those lines. No more, no more. Beauty is great but it's not what keeps the world turning. Love keeps the world turning. I'm holding onto love and I'm letting go of my physical desperation to be super appealingly orgasmically babalicious. I'm just going to revel in what really counts, my awesome sexing SKILLZ. I'm going to think about what there is to DO in bed, how it FEELS, what it MEANS. I'm gonna focus on being a hot fuck and enjoying my body as a tool for pleasure. That's what matters.

I say, "I mean sometimes I get insecure about my looks but I just have to remember it's stupid."

She tells me confidently and upbeat, "I'm happy with my looks, really, anyway." And this totally surprises me, to hear somebody so content to be in their own skin when everybody I know seems to always be so unsatisfied with their appearance. She goes on to elaborate about how she's totally fine with all her various parts, she makes a list of things, like her hair and her skin and her legs and everything. Not in this egotistical way. Just in this refreshingly easy-going cool way. Not because anything about her is particularly special. But just because she loves herself. And it's so fucking healthy I look at her in total awe and admiration.

I draw pictures on the paper bags they give us full of condoms, and when Kaylen comes out we meet up with Ariel and Shauna and Ashley and we fill condoms up with water and play dirty games with them.

Ah, Britney. She is like a little leprachaun cuz she's so frickin tiny. I came out of Bobby's bedroom the other night (from a nap, NOT a fuck) and she was there with Eric and Kaylen, wearing this BRIGHT NEON green jacket and I was like, "Oh my God!!!! Hello!!!" And her face lit up all adorable so I ran over to pounce on her with the biggest hug and it was a terrific moment. And we all hung out for an hour or so, laughing and talking about all kinds of random stuff, but then Eric and Kaylen started getting all lusty together and me and Britney just kinda went to the other side of the living room to entertain ourselves. And she told me all about her crazy life, personal stuff, got a whole bunch of stuff off her chest, and I connected with everything cuz I totally understood where she was coming from, and she was like, "I never share anything like this with anybody because I don't think anybody wants to hear about it," and I was like, "Ah! But I care!" and then we got slightly drunk when Eric and Kaylen finally left us to go fuck around seriously hardcore in Eric's bedroom, and then Eric had to do some school stuff and Kaylen and Britney had to go to bed so we all planned to meet the next day because Britney was gonna teach me how to surf.

And let me tell you SURFING IS AMAZINGLY FUN! You know how they say you RIDE the waves? You really ride them! It is like a ride! Why did I not learn about this sooner? Why have I spent my whole life NOT SURFING? Oh my God.

And Britney, the next day when we all went out and stuff, which was totally a blast I have to tell ya---when we were in her room I noticed she had a bunch of cool art because APPARENTLY she is an ARTIST and she let me have three of her paintings.

One of a tiger.

One of a very beautiful and sad looking girl.

And one that is just a big mess of red splotchiness with little brown things in it. And there is a caption above which says, "EXPLODED DOG."

Lovely.