I know how depressing my blog is, guys.

So, please enjoy this photo of Corgi puppies sharing an invisible sandwich.

Sometimes helplessness can feel worse than any other emotion.

It's truly awful.


k

I'm tired.

I'm at work right now. Blogging. Wrapped in a warm blanket and drinking mint cocoa. Listening to the new My Chemical Romance single, "Na Na Na." Catchy, no? I'm actually more excited for this album upon listening to this single than I was after hearing the whole of The Black Parade. This is still one of my favorite bands. I will never lose my fangirlish-ness for MCR. I don't see it happening. The video.

Anyway, I need to go do work in a few minutes. Morning portables. I am incapable, it seems, of thinking/typing in full sentences tonight.

I was reading through some of my shorts I've posted on here. There are a hundred more where those came from, but I'm not happy with any of them, really. There's maybe four or five of them I would be comfortable letting people I know and trust read, but other than that, I feel that they're all trash. Trash with excellent grammar.

Korn is on MTV. Suddenly it's 2000, and this is what the world of MTV is telling me is cool. I believe them and find it cool as well. Hurm. Well, you live and learn.

As for my musical tastes lately, it's been a rotating loop of Dresden Dolls (getting to see them live next month is going to be one of my favorite nights, I'm sure), MCR, Brand New, La Dispute, Gaslight, and Frank Turner. Seriously, I feel like these people are in my head sometimes. It's scary, but it also lets me know I'm not alone. This work schedule is hard for me and Jason both, but it's something we have to deal with. We're up to the challenge. Music is filling in the gaps when I'm alone. Xbox 360 and Rob is filling in Jason's free time. They're like a couple of old ladies antiquing all the time.

My record collection is growing. The last few additions were a Frank Turner/Tim Barry split, "Try This at Home" 7", High Violet by the National, and Planet of Ice reissue by Minus the Bear. All are being thoroughly enjoyed at 33 RPM. (We're never going home until the sun says we're finished.)

I couldn't help myself.

"Louder than god's revolver and twice as shiny."

k

I am a "hip" kid's mouth spouting "trendy" altered cinematic referential movie lines.

that was probably too vague or used bad grammar or whatever. who cares. i've done it, you've probably done it. it's a good fucking movie; but after awhile, reading, "I am Jack's/insertnamehere insertbodypart here" gets a little old. sorry, off-topic tangent. really, though, it's my blog, so it's actually right on topic, right? ya. that's what i thought.

who knew life wouldn't change all that much after marriage? okay, that's not really true, but i'm currently sitting in my parents' basement doing laundry and using mom's laptop and wireless connection. suddenlink's a bitch and keeps telling us they'll be there at a certain time, ya know, like between 8:00 am and 5:00 pm, and then showing up at 5:45 pm after we've given up and went to the movies or to get something to eat or something. that's why we don't have internet unless our neighbor hooks up their wireless router (very odd times in the day). but you have to have something in your life to keep you humble. whether it's a patient calling you a motherfucker and shooting death threats your way or doing your and your husband's laundry at your parents' house. both work.

the fact that i'm on mom's computer also explains why i'm not using any caps. her shift keys only work when they wanna, so you're lucky to get punctuation requiring the use of a shift.

i think my dog has abandonment issues. i mean, who wouldn't after being taken care of, i'm hoping, for a year or so and then dumped at the animal shelter for a week all alone and stuff? it's probably fucked up that i care about animals more than a lot of people i know, but they're innocent creatures. how many adults do you know who can be titled "innocent?" uh oh, i'm letting my jaded show.

so, i think 911 operators have a fucking hard as hell job. like on those true crime shows where the operator deciphers some person's screams or cries? yeah, i'd be the worst at that. i have a hard time hearing people anyway, so garbled, frantic soon-to-be stabbed or shot souls yelling at me would not work out. well, not for them. i'd have to say, "what? i can't hear you very well...speak up some, please." and they'd be whispering that someone was in the house trying to get them, or screaming that someone had just kidnapped their son, and i'd still be trying to hear their address. then i'd get, "thanks for that, ya dirtbag. i'm dead now because you couldn't understand me."

is sarcasm still a defense mechanism if you use it daily for several different occasions? i should learn which people probably wouldn't get it (the mil [mother-in-law]) or wouldn't appreciate it (cops), but i never do. maybe i do know deep down but like to cause shit anyway. it's the only way i get to be defiant anymore. ha.

so, jason's in a whole lot of pain because he needs a root canal, or now the tooth just needs pulled, and his appointment isn't until friday. i guess it broke all the way through or something? i don't know a lot about teeth. they're bitey and should be white or at least whitish. but that is why we didn't get to see new found glory on sunday night and that's why i'm not seeing fake problems and set your goals and four year strong and alkaline trio at warped tour in cincy right now. i'm also missing out on korean food tonight. it's why i'm not exhausted and sweaty and sunburned. i'm really not that selfish, guys. he's really hurting, and if i could take it for him, i would. i'm pretty sure that's how marriage should be. unless you just married someone to keep them from being deported. that's good, too. i typed 'departed' first, and thought, i would never want to be married to jack nicholson. WONDERFUL ACTOR, but i would look at him and forever see his face coming through the door in the shining. one of my favorite movies because it's creepy as fuck, but still. it's creepy as fuck, and most of that is his fault.

HOWEVER, WE DID BUY TICKETS TO SEE SOCIAL DISTORTION AND FRANK TURNER (and lucero...thoughts?) IN ASHEVILLE IN NOVEMBER!!!!!! THIRTEEN YEAR OLD ME AND PRESENT DAY ME ARE TOTALLY STOKED!!!! CAPS FTW!!!! I'M YELLING!!!!

there was probably something else more important i wanted to talk about today. i'm not really sure what that is, though. i watched kiss kiss bang bang today. it has robert downey jr. and michelle monaghan and shannon sossamon and sarcasm and weirdly haute couture people dancing in glass boxes in it. so it's pretty much my ideal movie.

i have yet to see inception. jason's in pain. i want to take him when he's all high on painkillers and see what happens. i think there will be some ensuing of hilarity.

i need more uniform pants. and a washer/dryer. nothing fancy, but toting my laundry all over the place is getting kind of redonkulous.

late, people. mom needs to do stuffs on the interwebz. and, i've come full circle.

k

There are lots of things I could blog about.

I'm not sure if I will or not. I could talk about how I got married, or how the honeymoon was the best week I'd ever had up to that moment, or how life kicked us in the ass when we got back to reality. Y'know. Not a bad kick in the ass. A necessary and "THIS IS GROWN-UP LIFE" (or as grown-up as we'll get) kick in the ass. So, like, as good one? I'm tired. Day shift has me up early. I live an hour away from where I work now, as does Jason, and day shift starts at 7. Ya.

Which brings me to the point of possibly talking about how I work full-time now at a hospital. Soon, I will be working full-time midnight shift in CT and x-ray. Yup. I'm like an adult now or something. With a sweet apartment. Yup.

But, I'm not really gonna talk about that stuff. That up there is all I really want to say about it. It's good, it's great, it's wonderful. Things are coming together. I'm about to buy Sigur Ros' Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust on vinyl from my Mosh Pit friend, Katie. Unopened. I can now put out my record player and all my records and enjoy them every day. All of my original Gaslight pressings. My Beethoven. I can't wait.

I've found that I can be quite domestic, too. And we can play and make love and walk around indisposed and just generally enjoy life. I'm almost waiting for the other shoe to drop, yeah? Like, you're finally really happy, with everything you wanted, so we're (being fate/life/whatever) going to just fuck things up a little. That's okay, though. Without unhappiness and hard times, the good and great and magnificent just aren't as enjoyable. I know that's totally fucking cliche, but it's true.

And now I must finish my Four Year Strong download and go to bed. Jason's calling. ;)

k

P.S. Warped in Cincy on July 28th right after a night shift that ends at 7:00 A.M. Fucking punk rock. That's what that is.

Soul Mates

This was a ten-minute writing exercise.

I can vividly remember the first day I saw Connor. He was leaning on Preston’s car and smoking. Preston said something and started laughing. Connor’s smile spread up the right side of his face in amusement. His hair was dark and scraggly, but not dirty. Just messy. He was my type incarnate.

These days, he’s my soul mate. Not in the ‘get married and live in a house full of happy children’ way. It’s more like no matter what I’m talking or thinking about, he always understands. It’s uncanny. I can be uncanny right back, though. Like I said—soul mates.

And we also fuck. Not usually when we’re sober, though. When he’s sober, his type is usually missing a vagina.

Tonight, we ate ice cream cones and walked the train tracks while the sun was setting behind us. We walked away from it because we like the dark. Things happen all around you in the dark, and most people miss them. We don’t miss them. We are them.

As the town around us got darker, we grew calmer and reverent. We sat down under a tree off the side of the tracks and watched as the sun finally disappeared beneath the horizon. The few moments between the sun setting and the day’s light diminishing completely were used to unfold a small strip of paper containing two round hits of acid. One of the little circles stuck to Connor’s finger and was dropped onto my tongue. He mimicked the action for himself and crumpled up the little piece of paper and swallowed it. Leaning against him and sighing, I closed my eyes and smiled.

I could see him clearly in my mind. He was smirking and spinning in circles in the middle of the ocean. I was dancing and laughing; it was glorious. We were standing on the water and playing god. He made the waves into shapes and sent them flying over my head. I reshaped them and sent them back.

Tulips, guns, pies, horses—back and forth, back and forth. When I remembered that my eyes were closed, I opened them to find Connor in the tree above me.

“What are you making up there? Did you make that tree?”

“I made this tree. I made the birds and the worms. Sugar, I grew the fucking roots into the soil. We are gods of this world.” I giggled. He was glowing blue. I felt spiritual. This was my religion. My world had no deadbeat mothers or frisky boyfriends. It was just me and Connor. And our world of magical possibilities.

Natalie and Kara

An extremely short story from a while ago:

They sat on the wall in front of her house. The trees shading them were gorgeous shades of rich oranges and reds. Neither one wanted to start the conversation. It was going to be awkward and messy.

Natalie stared at an ant crawling across the sidewalk so intently that everything around the ant went fuzzy. It was carrying a piece of red leaf. Possibly to its anthill. Or perhaps it would just keep the leaf for itself. Nature could be so giving, but it could also be selfish. Nature didn’t give a damn if you were dying or a glutton.

Such is the way of God. Or whoever was floating around up there.

Kara was the one to start talking. She spoke of pianos and purple skies. She mentioned horses and ketchup. Rambling about nonsense was a specialty of hers. Talking about reality was not.

“I dropped the ketchup in the piano while I was tuning it. Now the C above high C sounds odd.”

“Kara, stop.”

“I know,” she sighed. “Things are different now.” The times when Natalie would lie in bed with Kara and listen to her talk about whatever subject floated into her head were in the past. It was saddening because Kara had the sweetest voice. Every word flowed like a concerto. Every syllable seemed to be meticulously chosen, but it wasn’t. That was just Kara. Natalie missed her voice—her songs and words, her moans and cries.

That time was gone. Empty shells and glassy eyes were left, and neither girl knew what could bring life back into the void.

“I can’t take it back. And I don’t want to.”

“I figured that out. I can read you like a book,” Natalie smirked. Kara rarely did things that she regretted later. She was rash and impulsive, but everything she did had an intention behind it—regardless of whether it was conscious or not. Nothing happened without a purpose.

The ant had disappeared into a hole in the sidewalk. His fellow workers were congregating on the little mound surrounding the opening. They all had offerings of sustenance and were diligently working toward winter food reserves.

Natalie hadn’t looked at Kara once. When they first met, Kara’s facial piercings looked foreign to Natalie. After only a few days, though, they were familiar features, just like a little nose or beauty mark. She wanted to know if Kara’s youthful face had grown worry lines or blemishes, but she couldn’t bring herself to look. It would hurt too much.

Besides, she knew that Kara’s lovely face wouldn’t have acquired anything detrimental to her exquisiteness. Someone else was lucky. Someone else could hold her and look at her face and know that she would be there when he awoke.

Natalie wasn’t sure when she would be okay with that knowledge. Maybe never. Maybe tomorrow.

“Your birthday’s next week. You’re gonna be 21. Any plans?” Natalie had forgotten her own birthday.

“I’m probably going to drink a Jack and coke and be done with it.”

“You do that every night.”

“I’m also going to cut off all my hair.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.” Where Kara was open and intuitive, Natalie was stubborn.

“I can read you like a book, too, Nat.” Natalie flinched. “You’re not going to cut your hair. You think it’s the only thing that’s pretty about you.”

“Exactly.” The ants were almost all inside now. The sky was turning red and orange to match the trees as the sun left half-circle flashes in Natalie’s eyes when she blinked.

“Do you think we’ll ever come back here?”

“No. This is over.”

“Yeah.” And Natalie knew this little session of closure had ended. It was time for a new period in their lives. One without them together. It was time to find out how to live separately. This was good for them. When one would breathe, the other would exhale. It was like that in bed and life. Now was a new age.

Natalie realized that she was wrong. Maybe she could be okay that night. It wouldn’t take until tomorrow. It certainly wouldn’t take forever.