If it wasn't for livejournal I think people would assasinate me I talk so much!
There' s a mixture of things that have led to what I feel like expressing. My mind is as disjointed as my syntax - but in a way - it has its own sense of clarity.
I wanna trip while getting lost in a subway.
Well, its official, I've got the hot little recipt in my hot little hand, I'm going to Germany in August. Hassel Hoff here I come. The plan is to start in Frunkfurt and then drive down to Rome, stopping through florence and venice, come back up through Austria and if theres time, visit Prague. Examining my excitment about travelling and just my anxious spirit in general I wonder if I'll ever feel settled. I was thinking about my deadjournal (ssh, don't tell frank). Most people on these things give a drive by on their days or use it to rant in passive security but don't truely expose themselves, don't honestly put it out there for whatever reason, maybe because of trust or whatever, but nothing was more a trobbing open wound than my deadjournal - I deleted it (downloading a trans to my old comp) because it was so raw. I was writing it during the last year with my mother, that last horrible horrible year...when I had to get out - to survive. I remember when she would leave for weeks on end - months even. I would come home and she simply wouldn't be there. Kids complained and fought so hard for freedom where as I had it thrust upon me. At the time, I didn't want the independence. I didn't want the freedom. I didn't want to be seven and responsible for my own safety, feeding myself, getting to school...By the time I was in highschool it took a different dynamic. People would ask me, "what time you gotta be home?" or "does your mom care if you're out late?" not realizing that I never had to be home. In fact, I was never home. If I wasn't living at a friends house I was wandering around Alamo Heights at night, taking in the air, sitting in the Oaks and listening to the grackles and nightengales. No one knows, but I would walk to Audrey's old house, Lauren's, Alex's, JP's, and just sit outside on the curb watching them live within. Nothing against them, but I found a calm sitting by myself knowing that no one else got it - just that need - to watch other people lead monotonous lives within solid walls. At home, the moment I knew she was gone, I didn't drink or throw parties, I cleaned. I, with relish, washed the dishes, did my laundry, cleaned the house and put it all right because not only did my mom fail at anything domestic she actually fought me. If I did the dishes voluntarily she would fly at me, cursing until I stopped then the dishes would continue to gather on the counter and ferment. Once, I was so afraid after breaking a wine glass while doing the dishes like a theif in the night, that I took the shards and hid them under my neighbors trash outside. That unsecurity about my own home pushed me to only find comfort away from it. I wanted to be by myself - so seeking comfort in friends was out - and when you walk until your ankles are sore, find an erie park (usually Olmos) and a nice tree to climb/nook to sit a peculiar sensation overcomes you. Once, I fell asleep in one of those big gnarly pecan trees in Olmos just a stones throw from Alex's cuddled between two fat branches. I had to hold myself to keep from falling, it was precarious and uncomfortable but I somehow still fell asleep. An hour or two (this was before the days of a cell) later I woke from a dreamless sleep but was rested all the same. I stayed there a minute, sweating cause of Texas's damn humidity, just looking around at the houses across the street - sweat or maybe an ant trailing down the small of my back and thought about how Alex could have taken one of her midnight walks and gone right under me. Never knowing I was right above her sleeping in a tree like Milo because if I went home David would be there lurking in the house and my mother either so drunk the signs would be caked in the corners of her smirking mouth or passed out in the caverous bowels of our hollow house. I've got to stop this, I don't want to convince myself that my anger and frustration during those days haunts me today. Look at it however but I am aware that my struggle and experiences are what make me today. I still stand by I have nothing to regret and nothing to wish hadn't happened. My mother was a force in my life ... i don't know how to descirbe her properly. There is too much that happened and too much that she did, or didn't do for that matter, to summerize her in a few quip words, she was simply a force. However, she was the main contributor to my restless spirit. I don't find myself waking outside anymore but I still wander. Usually, I'll wake up at 3 or 4 and do three things...on a good night I'll try to go back to sleep, on bad nights I throw on a hoodie put my cell and knife in the pocket and strike out for a while, and other times I'll throw on my hoodie, walk down the stairs, look left and then right and then go back upstairs and to bed. I like to think I'm getting better that I'm calming down even though my anxiety pleagues me now. My trips to Texas and overseas will either qwell my insatiable desire or feul it. I'm voicing discontent at work (Devon filled in for doc. phil) not that theres anything wrong with work I just need something else. Something different. I wanna move out of my dads, out of this apartment, maybe even this state.
This is turning into the longest entry in the world but christ, I just feel like nobody gets it. Thats the whole thing, like my theory on the afterlife - not my real theory but what I believe awaits me - Audrey knows, just because of this uncontrollable (i cant articulate it) that compells me I feel I will never be satisfied. Back in time, when I was with William and we joked about being married we always clashed. I want to move my children. Not as much as I did, I wish that on no one, but maybe twice in junior school and before high school to help them realize their spirit. Maybe its my perspective, but when you live in one place for long enough you identify yourself as so-cal or east coast, small town - city dweller, by the people you know and the places you hang. When you move, like I did, I was just me - bare and simple. I didn't fit, still don't, like a piece with rough edges that you can pound in but can also fall away. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore because even if I found the words to actually explain what I mean, and someone could possibily understand or empathize, you need to live it. Feel it.
My damn hips are digging into the floor and its uncomfortable.
::He lost fifty pounds on a diet of ciggarettes and melodrama::
I don't want to be misunderstood, which I already think happens enough, I'm not upset or frustrated. I'm actually doing quiet well right now. Not as happy as I could be but content, excited about the trip, and looking forward to school which always offers new opportunities. I made a realization a few days ago that I no longer hate anyone. Lauren I just pity and my mother I resent. but my hate is gone.
I need to work on my rambling. I don't even think I have a point anymore I'm just suffering from word vomit. A sever incurable case. I as a person i am a rambler
"and the only time,
he's satisfied,
is ramblin' from town to town"
I need some music to calm the beast and hope that one day I'll settle or find someone to settle me. I think that is a reason why I am...not sad but...disheartened by the fall out between Nik and I. For a fleeting moment I thought maybe I found someone who understood the impulse and maybe, just maybe, instead of learning to settle would wander with me. Things are what they are... As of yet, I still have my words.
Thats what my new tattoo means to me - the ohm. Not its initial defintion but oneness of my spirit to move, to be compelled and there it is over my right shoulder ever present but out of veiw.
I'm done for now. Need to recharge. Need to strike out one more time.
I wanna trip while getting lost in a subway.
Well, its official, I've got the hot little recipt in my hot little hand, I'm going to Germany in August. Hassel Hoff here I come. The plan is to start in Frunkfurt and then drive down to Rome, stopping through florence and venice, come back up through Austria and if theres time, visit Prague. Examining my excitment about travelling and just my anxious spirit in general I wonder if I'll ever feel settled. I was thinking about my deadjournal (ssh, don't tell frank). Most people on these things give a drive by on their days or use it to rant in passive security but don't truely expose themselves, don't honestly put it out there for whatever reason, maybe because of trust or whatever, but nothing was more a trobbing open wound than my deadjournal - I deleted it (downloading a trans to my old comp) because it was so raw. I was writing it during the last year with my mother, that last horrible horrible year...when I had to get out - to survive. I remember when she would leave for weeks on end - months even. I would come home and she simply wouldn't be there. Kids complained and fought so hard for freedom where as I had it thrust upon me. At the time, I didn't want the independence. I didn't want the freedom. I didn't want to be seven and responsible for my own safety, feeding myself, getting to school...By the time I was in highschool it took a different dynamic. People would ask me, "what time you gotta be home?" or "does your mom care if you're out late?" not realizing that I never had to be home. In fact, I was never home. If I wasn't living at a friends house I was wandering around Alamo Heights at night, taking in the air, sitting in the Oaks and listening to the grackles and nightengales. No one knows, but I would walk to Audrey's old house, Lauren's, Alex's, JP's, and just sit outside on the curb watching them live within. Nothing against them, but I found a calm sitting by myself knowing that no one else got it - just that need - to watch other people lead monotonous lives within solid walls. At home, the moment I knew she was gone, I didn't drink or throw parties, I cleaned. I, with relish, washed the dishes, did my laundry, cleaned the house and put it all right because not only did my mom fail at anything domestic she actually fought me. If I did the dishes voluntarily she would fly at me, cursing until I stopped then the dishes would continue to gather on the counter and ferment. Once, I was so afraid after breaking a wine glass while doing the dishes like a theif in the night, that I took the shards and hid them under my neighbors trash outside. That unsecurity about my own home pushed me to only find comfort away from it. I wanted to be by myself - so seeking comfort in friends was out - and when you walk until your ankles are sore, find an erie park (usually Olmos) and a nice tree to climb/nook to sit a peculiar sensation overcomes you. Once, I fell asleep in one of those big gnarly pecan trees in Olmos just a stones throw from Alex's cuddled between two fat branches. I had to hold myself to keep from falling, it was precarious and uncomfortable but I somehow still fell asleep. An hour or two (this was before the days of a cell) later I woke from a dreamless sleep but was rested all the same. I stayed there a minute, sweating cause of Texas's damn humidity, just looking around at the houses across the street - sweat or maybe an ant trailing down the small of my back and thought about how Alex could have taken one of her midnight walks and gone right under me. Never knowing I was right above her sleeping in a tree like Milo because if I went home David would be there lurking in the house and my mother either so drunk the signs would be caked in the corners of her smirking mouth or passed out in the caverous bowels of our hollow house. I've got to stop this, I don't want to convince myself that my anger and frustration during those days haunts me today. Look at it however but I am aware that my struggle and experiences are what make me today. I still stand by I have nothing to regret and nothing to wish hadn't happened. My mother was a force in my life ... i don't know how to descirbe her properly. There is too much that happened and too much that she did, or didn't do for that matter, to summerize her in a few quip words, she was simply a force. However, she was the main contributor to my restless spirit. I don't find myself waking outside anymore but I still wander. Usually, I'll wake up at 3 or 4 and do three things...on a good night I'll try to go back to sleep, on bad nights I throw on a hoodie put my cell and knife in the pocket and strike out for a while, and other times I'll throw on my hoodie, walk down the stairs, look left and then right and then go back upstairs and to bed. I like to think I'm getting better that I'm calming down even though my anxiety pleagues me now. My trips to Texas and overseas will either qwell my insatiable desire or feul it. I'm voicing discontent at work (Devon filled in for doc. phil) not that theres anything wrong with work I just need something else. Something different. I wanna move out of my dads, out of this apartment, maybe even this state.
This is turning into the longest entry in the world but christ, I just feel like nobody gets it. Thats the whole thing, like my theory on the afterlife - not my real theory but what I believe awaits me - Audrey knows, just because of this uncontrollable (i cant articulate it) that compells me I feel I will never be satisfied. Back in time, when I was with William and we joked about being married we always clashed. I want to move my children. Not as much as I did, I wish that on no one, but maybe twice in junior school and before high school to help them realize their spirit. Maybe its my perspective, but when you live in one place for long enough you identify yourself as so-cal or east coast, small town - city dweller, by the people you know and the places you hang. When you move, like I did, I was just me - bare and simple. I didn't fit, still don't, like a piece with rough edges that you can pound in but can also fall away. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore because even if I found the words to actually explain what I mean, and someone could possibily understand or empathize, you need to live it. Feel it.
My damn hips are digging into the floor and its uncomfortable.
::He lost fifty pounds on a diet of ciggarettes and melodrama::
I don't want to be misunderstood, which I already think happens enough, I'm not upset or frustrated. I'm actually doing quiet well right now. Not as happy as I could be but content, excited about the trip, and looking forward to school which always offers new opportunities. I made a realization a few days ago that I no longer hate anyone. Lauren I just pity and my mother I resent. but my hate is gone.
I need to work on my rambling. I don't even think I have a point anymore I'm just suffering from word vomit. A sever incurable case. I as a person i am a rambler
"and the only time,
he's satisfied,
is ramblin' from town to town"
I need some music to calm the beast and hope that one day I'll settle or find someone to settle me. I think that is a reason why I am...not sad but...disheartened by the fall out between Nik and I. For a fleeting moment I thought maybe I found someone who understood the impulse and maybe, just maybe, instead of learning to settle would wander with me. Things are what they are... As of yet, I still have my words.
Thats what my new tattoo means to me - the ohm. Not its initial defintion but oneness of my spirit to move, to be compelled and there it is over my right shoulder ever present but out of veiw.
I'm done for now. Need to recharge. Need to strike out one more time.