I am only one face,
in a sea of fake beauty.
I am not the perfect face,
and so you disregard me.
oh to live on sugar mountain. this song makes me long for some youth of my own again. I've begun the countdown to having this baby, and feeling free again, I suppose this is only natural, you can't be twenty on sugar mountain...always I think I left too soon. Where do I belong in a world of politics? where do politics belong in my world? when did it become policy? it seems impolite.
oh but I don't know what I'm saying anymore, I used to have so much zeal, I don't know what to say anymore.
kill kill kiLL. I hate everything I've written, every picture I see, I want to delete it all, but myspace is fucking up. (grunting noise of impotent anger) I guess it's for the best, more inscentive to get my computer fixed, I have everything on myspace so I can get it on my hard drive, some fucking day. god I suck.
I think I've come full circle and I hate myself again, ah, it's good to be home. it's hard to miss this familiar loathing, what now right? My mind is in a state of constant rebellion, I think about things and get so fucking pist that I just shut down. like being totally numb is my new coping mechanism. No more forced wit, no more lazy sitting, the most inactive act of running away. What what WHAT do I do now boss. I am a spring, well oiled with alcohol, slowly winding up, I can hear the grinding, tinny music as I am forced down into readiness. and what then? sobriety, writing, music, trials and errors. and more friendship. I need some kind of symbolic act, some ritual to appease my procrastinating monkey. get that fucker off my back. Who am I when I have nothing to live for but the next handful of moments, perhaps some chance happiness and another randomly meaningful encounter. Can a person live and be fulfilled floating like a dust mite swept out the back door, to land in another house, on another couch. What am I doing, I ask myself, how did I get here, have I really learned to let go. my addictions are taking me places I have always been interested to see, I cannot recoil in horror now, I will not let myself. I have to wonder though, is this my resolve, will my constant second guessing offer any help. What fucking difference.
I get sucked into reality tv just like anyone else, oh god, is that what makes me human? myspace and vh1 and wildboyz? how chilling. I love young paul newman, they don't make em like that anymore. oh, I really have nothing to offer, shortlived winning personality, that turns people cold and hot at times, I can be flaky, I can be lazy, is this really the image I project. I do not contribute, to society? to individuals? how is contribution measured? money, time, household chores, inspiration? could I ever be so vain as to say I've inspired someone? I hardly inspire myself. I am grown tired of crawling around inside my head, I'm sure anyone reading this has as well.
It's strange when you find your self stalking real life friends on myspace, looking at their pictures to feel like a part of their life. I have friends I haven't seen in awhile and myspace is almost the only way I know they're still alive.
I've kind of run out of motivation to learn other peoples songs, I think i need to start writing my own lyrics. I used to write so much more freely before. Maybe because I had my own computer, I always had a little notebook, I always had time to write. with kilian and now, without my own space or computer it's hard to let myself go. I don't think I ever knew how sacred I held my writing, I mean, I post most of it on the internet but I don't want anyone to see me writing it. I haven't posted much lately, I've got a lot of hand written poor me notes and some interesting pages I wonder if I'll ever see again. I really miss my laptop. It's been hard to get on the internet for awhile. and then I go crazy when I'm on it. I don't like to blog because alot of people walk in here and read over your shoulder with family. It drives me nuts. I need to go on some nature walks or something, get some perspective.
I find myself getting sucked into all of the constant drama going on all around me, I am attracted to it, I think, because it lets me escape my own dramas. I need to get up in four hours and go to hilo for what? give someone $20, try to get $50 owed to me, pick up applications, check on my return. The fucked up thing is I was really looking forward to seeing my son and I just...can't, I guess. it seems like there is nothing I can do but try to reschedule and look to next weekend, or something. I need to amend my federal return. I need to find a house. I need to get a life. Hey, this'll be fun.
I'm going to rebirth tomorrow, I've got my ride all lined up, I've almost got the money too. I'm so fucking excited I can't sleep. I'll be there by this time. Need to get up at five and catch the bus to hilo and pick up my guitar and backpack then catch the bus back and hopefully get some money and then meet the guy I'm going with and then wooohooo.
I have been stripped of all mementos of my childhood, incomplete as it was, I feel as if I have lost something. Maybe I've lost my memories. So, the question, how can I miss something I can't remember? I had many things, things I had kept for my future home. Things I had put in my old home that isn't home anymore. I got kicked out of my house in march and I've never felt more at home. I moved out of the house in hilo after mike left in december and moved to hawaiian acres with the creepy ipo who threatened to shoot me a couple of times and stole mike's surfboard and fishing poles. among other things. Well, my mom guys moved me out of there and I was going to go live with her again when my friend dawn found me a room with this woman down the road from where I was. She turned out to be a judgemental person with standards I could not meet so she kicked me out (funny story, I won't go into that now though). But if she hadn't I wouldn't have met david or had any of the wonderful and blessed experiences I've been fortunate enough to have lately. Even staying here at my moms for the past few weeks, where I fill my usual role a family scapegoat, I still feel the blessing. This place is getting old though, visiting my family always helps remind me of what I don't want to become, and why I'll never live with my mother. I mean, I enjoy being told I'm lazy and stupid and I'll never get anywhere and I'll never see my son again as much as the next person but really, I don't need to take this. Yes, I truly would rather be homeless, and that must twinge a bit.
mike comes back on saturday and he'll be taking kilian and his truck. god, I'll miss that truck. Nah, just kidding, I'll miss my baby. I'm dreading seeing mike, just looking back over my blog and seeing pictures of him has made me cry. I'm still grieving the family that we had started, the life we tried to make. I can't help but wonder (constantly) if he grieves as much as I do for our family. It was the only family that I felt a part of, I've always been so disconnected from my own. Even mike saw how they treated me, though that never stopped him from using them against me. I don't know what difference it makes, regretting the loss, did I really want to be with someone who would use my own family against me? a person who would tell anyone my secrets in order to curry favor for himself. I know he never made me look bad, for all that he said, he only showed himself to be untrustworthy. But that doesn't make the pain any less. I mean, I really don't mind people knowing these things about me but I'd rather be the one to tell them myself. And some people just have no right to know some things about me. I'm just waiting for that sharp stab in the stomach when I see him with Kilian. It's not possible to see your child in his father's arms without feeling something. I will feel pain. it will replace the love and hope that I used to feel at the sight. and what can I do? he really hasn't changed, at least the last time I talked to him his attitude was the same, as if I were some monster. I am the monster. I just wish (and yes, I know this is a stupid and futile wish) that we had had one more day together, everything ended so badly. I wish I had a better memory, I wish I had made love to him one last time, fallen asleep holding him, woken up next to him. I find it harder and harder to sleep. I can't sleep at all when I think of him, even the good memories. I truly wish I never had to see him again but that's not possible. I know when I see him I will miss him even more, it's easier with him in texas, now I will know that he is here, yes, just not here for me. Is it just that I miss having a boyfriend? I don't know, it's still so painful, as much as I hate to admit that. It hurts to think of how we were happy. It hurts worse to think he wasn't happy.