I can't grow anything but weeds.

(But I did grow a pretty good bean.)

I promise this is the last time I'll use it.

It's so damn versatile! But I do love this quote. Mostly cause I am in the gutter all the time. You know, in one way or another. (take that whatever way you want.... you're probably correct on some level anyway.)

And, it reminds me of a song.

(go figure)



For all the things you said I'd never do
For all the things you said that were untrue
For all the times you made me feel alone
Said I'd never make it on my own


Things are lookin' up for me now
It seems like Karma's makin' its rounds
It's my turn now, won't be held down, no
Karma's gonna visit you too
You gotta pay for the things you put me through
I hope you do, I hope you do, yeah, yeah


I hope your Hell is filled with magazines
And on every page you see a big picture of me
And under every picture a caption should read
Not bad for a girl from the gutter like me


For all the times you said, "I got your back"
For all the times you stabbed me
For all the times you tried to hurt my pride
For all the pain I held down deep inside


Things are lookin' up for me now
It seems like Karma's makin' its rounds
It's my turn now, won't be held down, no
Karma's gonna visit you too
You gotta pay for the things you put me through
I hope you do, I hope you do, I hope you do


I hope your Hell is filled with magazines
And on every page you see a big picture of me
And under every picture a caption should read
Not bad for a girl from the gutter like me


Needed to make me weak to help you feel stronger
I know y'all bitches think I'm somewhere dyin' inside
Oh yeah, poor Kina, she went home
She couldn't take it no longer
But I'm right here
I'm right here
I'm right here


I hope your Hell is filled with magazines
And on every page you see a big picture of me
And under every picture a caption should read
Not bad for a girl from the gutter like me

Annnnnnd, another song.

(yes, with the same pic)

;-)

More Neil Gaiman.

(I heart him.)

Lighthouse.

This is really a profound truth for me. I feel like a beacon some days. And I don't mind being the beacon - in my head, I liken it to being the "light" for someone who may otherwise be in the darkness, and that makes me feel good. I like being the light.

But other days? I just feel like the porch light that a million and one bugs are swarming and mindlessly bashing themselves into.

I never did build a ship. I wouldn't even know where to start.

Honestly, I don't think it ever occurred to me that I could.

Bring them to meeeeeeee.......

*sigh*

(maybe I am just lazy)

It's just not the same.

Yes, another song.

I can't help it. Some of the best, most profound, most poetic, most meaningful pieces of writing aren't literature at all. They're songs. And when I listen to music, I am mostly listening to the words. I realize that's kinda not the entire point, but it's just how I hear it.

Don't apologize either.

Love.

That's all I can say: LOVE.

Fading.



I'm just a notch in your bedpost, but you're just a line in a song.

The beauty of true friendship.

Sometimes there's that one person who says just the right thing at just the right time and it changes your entire outlook.

*sigh*

It's like that pointing fingers quote... but, you know, different.

I really believe that part of understanding people is understanding that we all share commonalities. And if we look hard enough for common ground, it can be found. In working with people, I do this so easily it has become second nature.

Of course, there's also that thing about the stuff that we hate in others are the same things we hate about ourselves.

Life is confusing.

I don't just burn bridges. I blow them the fuck up.

Sometimes you just have to make a choice.

You *have* to.

I'm in love with Neil Gaiman. Because he's just *so* right.

The funny thing is - funny as in, ironic, not really "haha" - is that I've never read any of his books. I came across a quote of his that resonated with me such that I began to cyber stalk other bits of his snark and wisdom and I was instantly hooked. I'm actually kinda scared to read his novels and have them be a let down from the initial joy of that one quote. It's like, one FANTASTIC piece of chocolate that melts in your mouth just right and *makes* your whole day. But, were you to eat a whole bag of said chocolate, you'd be sick and never want to see it again.

Kinda like that.

Oh, and that one first piece of chocolate?

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.”

Secrets.

So I found this picture and I was immediately taken by the female figure that's on the bathroom wall, which, if we set aside the completely odd nature of it, is actually quite cool. I was all "wow, that's so cool, I like the abandoned nature of the whole..... whaaa...? Wait. What the fuck is that??!?"

Yeah. Little old creepy thing in the center. Person? Doll??? Dear god, I am totally creeped out.

(but I still love the pic.)

Relationships are like glass....

....than to hurt yourself trying to put it back together.

Fat is the new black.

Today as I was getting dressed, I convinced myself that dressing entirely in shades of black and grey - in multiple layers - would somehow slim and, at the same time, camouflage, the obscene amount of weight that I have gained recently. Black tank top, dark grey (baggy) low cut shirt, lighter grey long sweater (long sweaters are my fashion fix-all (which don't fix a damn thing, btw)), and black pants. That barely buttoned.

Yeah.

On a lighter note though, it was a good hair day and, paired with some bold lipstick, I was doing my damnedest to draw attention away from my body and up to my face.

The high point of my day actually - a day that was spent unconsciously fidgeting with clothes that were too tight in all the wrong places - was when one of my tenth grade girls told me - mid conversation - that I don't look at all like I'm 33. I can only assume she meant that I look younger than that because otherwise, well, that would be rude and she's a sweet girl. Also, I am assuming that the extra fat is simply plumping up my wrinkles and the pimples are causing some confusion. Yay bad skin?

But it is beginning to wear on me. (You know, the fact that I can't wear most of my clothes, that is.) I know part of it is the meds I'm taking. Mega doses or hormones will do that. Period. But also? Work is stressing me out. I might be losing my job to budget cuts. Late nights at work are sapping my time and energy for exercise. And frankly? I just love to eat. Too much. (that's nothing new though.)

So I suppose my choices now involve any combination of learning to purge after binging, making time to exercise, buying bigger clothes, or just continuing to bitch about it. Yep. One of those.....

Although, I will say: the hormones? Still worth it. The fact that I am handling this much stress, at a new job, with a fair amount of instability in my future, without having emotional breakdowns the likes of which would rival any diva and/or my three-year-old daughter when she doesn't get her way? Epically amazing. In fact, the poise and equanimity with which I am facing every day is a little shocking. Sure, some days I am especially bitchy or snarky or even exhausted. But, I am not. losing. my. shit.

And? I totally used the word equanimity correctly.

(even though I didn't spell it right.)

((I'm still giving myself bonus non-brain-fog points.))

Let. Me. Out.

(I find this concept very comforting and very concerning.... all at the same time.)

Because my daytime crazy isn't enough.

....and I find comfort in that insanity.

(good night.)

Wine never lets me down.

The line is from a song. A song I love and used to not be able to listen to without sobbing hysterically. I can not sob now, but apparently I'm not really ready to talk about it either.

Thank god for wine.

Reading is good for you. (unfortunately, it's just one more thing I don't get to do often enough.)

I literally - no, really, I just went and counted - have 10 books on my bookcase right now, waiting to be read. Another 5 or 6 on my shelf at work, 6 more for classes I am taking (*yawn*), and a dozen or so in my Amazon wish list.

I love to read.

I am a huge dork like that and I own it for all it's worth. I've actually read every single book Stephen King has ever written - own them all, in fact - and have read many of them many times. I think I could develop a quasi-religious thesis based on the Dark Tower series. Although I'm sure someone already has, so I would probably be wasting my time. It's a fantastic epic tale.

This summer? I am dedicating some serious time to reading. Reading stuff I need to read, stuff I have to read, and stuff I simply want to read. Because it is medicine for the soul.

(but also? it's just a really convenient escape from reality.)

((and who doesn't need that?))

There's a *pretty* big difference.

I once confused Helen Keller and Anne Frank. True story.

You met me at a very strange time in my life.

...you're not how much money you've got in the bank.  You're not your job.  You're not your family, and you're not who you tell yourself.... You're not your name.... You're not your problems.... You're not your age.... You are not your hopes.

(I keep waiting to meet my Tyler.)

Yes, I do, in fact, want a cookie.

 

I have literally been "on a diet" since I was 12. That's more than 20 years of feeling guilty about what I was or wasn't eating at any given point.

Let me be clear about this: I did not need to diet at 12.

I thought I was "fat".

I was not.

Now that I have had to legitimately struggle with my weight for many years, I can see the difference. From my highest weight (which was 245 - seriously y'all. It's not like I'm 6'9". Or even 5'9" for that matter.) to my lowest (which was still 20lbs heavier than my "teenage" weight but gloriously wonderfully thin - for me - and a weight I stayed at for all of 30 minutes before creeping my way back up the scale) I have constantly struggled.

And it's bullshit. Not the struggle - that's a given. I will always have to work against the medical conditions that want to make me F-A-T... because that also makes me W-E-A-K.... and they prefer me that way. So, I struggle. Against genetics, my health, and myself.

What's bullshit is the guilt. I want to get rid of that part. Guilt is such a wasted and useless emotion. I've spent too much time feeling guilty.

What I want is cookies.

(With milk.)

((Not guilt.))

Photos I didn't take. Paired with words I didn't write.

So all over facebook, people are doing this 30-day-photo-challenge-thing. And, frankly, while I like the idea... I'm not such a fan of my own photos.

(Even less a fan of photos of me.)

Also, I kinda prefer words.

Even when my words don't seem to be very forthcoming. Which, right now, they are not. They are hard fought and stuck. My brain is, at the moment, the La Brea tar pit of eloquent speech and snarky repertoire. Many a great thought, feeling, and idea will be found millions of years from now - fossilized and contextually insignificant.

(I am probably humoring myself by calling them potentially "great". I am aware.)

So, for the next 30 days, I bring you: Photos I didn't take. Paired with words I didn't write.

(But somehow? The combination seems to kinda sorta fit what's sinking slowly in the tar pit.)