Tiny Ghost Girl, 1

She floats inside me yet she weighs more than I can bare. Whispering sweet evil into my heart and mind, torturing me. She’s quick and cunning. A succubus, she’s hungry. I feed her the usual: “You’re not ever going to be good enough so why bother you sick bitch.” “No one’s ever going to love you.” “What are you smiling for? Ain’t no reason to smile while I’m here.” Still she’s hungry. A bottomless pit of despair and pain.

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Yours Truly, Confused

There’s a place I go everyday where the very life inside of me gets sucked out. The kicker is I have to be happy about it because it pays my bills and feeds my dogs….Except! Ha ha! It barely does that. It used to be that people would take a chance on me. I’m not sure what changed. Did the workplace change or did I become undesirable? I’m a good person and a hard working person and hell, I’m a smart person yet this place and it’s people treat me like I’m the dregs of society. But I smile –okay so maaaybe I don’t anymore. I mean it’s fucking difficult to smile when you feel like a beaten puppy everyday. <Cut to that sad Sarah McLachlan commercial of abandoned dogs except that it’s me with matted hair and cowering in my cube.> I dunno, perhaps it’s my birthday coming up or maybe it’s my lovely sweat loge time (read: MENSTRUATION), maybe it’s the “Boomerang”…. all I know is that my Chi is out of balance. Maybe I need to cut out gluten? Or maybe I need to just pretend to know what I’m doing, it seems to work for a few people I know. It’s like I was slipped acid and it’s Opposites Land all day, five days a week. 

Medicated Poo

I’m being tested. I’m failing horribly. Self care is not something I’m good at. In fact those words have just recently entered my vocabulary. I should have meditated today but instead I medicated with my ol’friend Whiskey.
I feel like poo. ….but not a good poo. Like bad evil poo. The kind that has you doubled over in pain poo. Angry poo.
Hopefully saying this out loud and for all the world to see (or at least the two of you who actually read this crap) I can let how I’m feeling go. Get some sleep and start anew in the morning. Maybe even try some of this self care business…

To Sleep Perchance To zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

The clouds are rolling in over Orion’s belt. The sound of sirens are in the distance and the smell of weed on the air. I am awake. My wall is wearing cast shadows that resemble a cubist painting. I am wake. The lights seem to twinkle in the distance off the high rises and the Creatures of the Night are nestled soundly in my bed. I? I am awake. The fridge and small fan argue for ear space. The LED lights from the box of Everything But Actual Cable blink at me. A kind of visual laughter at my insomnia. Helicopters. Noise and lights hovering above! I am awake. Please! O please! Flat pillow of mine bring me respite! Mr. Skeleton in the corner hanging so sweetly…so cozy. Buddha sitting above him smiling condescendingly down at me. Creature Two stirs from a dream and just as quickly yawns herself back to sleep. I am awake.

Casita del Marathon

Lemme tell ya a lil’ ditty about The Mayor and The Crooner…

The Mayor, a regular stoner type who “stopped working for corporate America a long time ago” inserted himself into my life on my very first day here at Casita del Marathon. Gave me the “run down” of the joint. Mentioned that the Manager (who will be known from here forward as “The Un-Manager”) does not actually live on-site as stated in the ad and that everyone is “pretty cool”. He also mentioned that if I needed any help with tools (which I suspect was a euphemism) he’d be more than happy to help so long as it’s after 10am of course.
The following week I met Frank and Jack who are both women (figure it out). They seem pleasant and have just recently acquired a new dog. Again they seem nice and have yet to offend me.
I have yet to formerly meet The Crooner but we’re very close despite. The Mayor was hanging with The Crooner at 3:30am because he stopped working for corporate America some time ago and they had a little discussion about me. The Mayor: “Yeah she’s cool. Her bed is like – right here- I think it’ll be fine. (inaudible mumbling) No it’s cool”. The Mayor retires to his love den equipped with purple LED lighting behind the black faux leather couch and the door to The Crooner’s apartment slams shut. He moves things around and I can hear humming. Not too bad. Then I can hear the shower turn on. This is when I can hear he’s showering and can tell what body part he’s currently washing. (At the moment its the upper torso.) He fancies himself a real Whitney. I mean it’s deep. As if he’s singing to every single drop of water in that shower and sharing his very soul with each and every one. I wish I was that delusional and that it was only in that shower that The Crooner sang his deepest little heart out. Alas, I am only half Irish and got the whiskey end of the luck. He sings all day. I mean, ALLLL DAAAAAAY. It’s awful. It’s so many things aside from good. Sure , it could be worse. I mean, he can sort of keep pitch but it’s the belief that he’s an amazing singer and deserves to sing out loud as loud as he wants all day as if he’s a regular Smokey Robinson or Aretha Franklin. Literally singing Dolly’s song, “I Will Always Love You” (but the version made famous by Whitney’s performance in The Bodyguard) in the shower while he scrubbed his under carriage (from what I could tell through the wall).
One can only hope that tonight he will have sung his little RnB heart out and will rest peacefully at a decent and preferably early hour but I am not the one with that hope.
Casita del Marathon I will be here for at least a year and I sure the hell hope you improve and grow on me with time.

Everything is swirling around me like styrofoam cups in the wind. I’ve been through so much worse and yet things like moving or not getting a job throw me askew. I play them down. I always have. But these things, these life experiences are a really big deal (jeez-a-loo that sounds lame!).
At breakfast this morning I started thinking about all the change that’s happened: moving, purging my life of material items and bringing new unfamiliar items in, losing a 20 year friendship, birds laying eggs, birds kicking eggs out of nest, new sounds, new neighbors who are overly friendly and whose walls are so thin that I can tell what part of their body they are washing. Though I’ve been getting out running errands and taking care of myself by eating, ya know – basic shit, I still feel tired. Worn and thin like these walls. I went out with friends on Friday and sure I wasn’t drinking but I just felt distant. I’m glad I went however because I would’ve gone into “The Cave of Too Much Comfort” and been in worse shape than I am now. I know this will all pass but for now, right now, its very overwhelming and stressful. There. I said it.
Now what?

HOME

Keep moving. Keep moooooviiing. Keep unpacking. Stacking. Racking. Un. Packing. UNPACKING!!! *AH-CHEW!!* (…no really, thats exactly how I sound when I sneeze…it was pointed out to me by my cube mate…). Dust everywhere. Shit everywhere. Spatula in the bathroom. Toilet brush in the living room. Bath soap in the kitchen. Pyramid of cardboard an alter to the Gods. DAMMIT!!! When will it end? When will the chaos subside??! *Breathing…* The plants are doing well though. The dogs seem happier. I have a bed now. (Well its also my couch but I like it.) DTLA looks quite lovely even when its shrouded in a fog. And there’s this Guatemalan restaurant at the end of my block that is great! *Breathing…* It’s all going to be okay. It’s all a temporary inconvenience *breathing* that ends with freedom and a safe place for me to call HOME.

Bonus Post! Amen!

Hemet. Full of …well nothing really. The place my parents chose to reside. The Land of Nowhere and Nothing.

I wish I enjoyed coming to visit. (I just farted on my dog and now he’s moved away in disgust.) It’s just such a long way and little pay off. Sure I’m visiting my parents and I don’t see them often but I find myself thinking of all the things I could be doing. As a friend said, “the cross I bare this Easter”.

Since it is Easter I suppose this post should be about The Sky Fairy and/or
zombies but I got nothin’ in that arena tonight. What I do have is lament over a 20 year friendship down the drain. I’ve been trying to figure out why I kept someone like her in my life for so long…? I think that if I stop wondering and beating myself up over trying to figure it out, the answer will present itself. Waiting blows though. I wanna know NOW dammit!

I think this parental visit was more stressful than usual because well, for starters it was longer and secondly I was bombarded by memorabilia from my childhood. Everything from baby clothes to books, birth announcement (handwritten by the way) to creepy clown sweater (knit by my Oma). I remember all of it but I don’t know how to feel about any of it. There are happy memories attached to all of the items but also this dull coat of fear and sadness. (Creepy clown sweater is staring at me. Its big smile a giant gaping hole of red yarn. Terrifying.) I dunno. Seeing all these things has made me sorrowful. A feeling of loss that I’m perplexed by.

The positive to this lame post, is that Dog 1 and 2 have been by my side the entire day. We are embarking on a new chapter together. A new apartment in a new city and nothing but adventure and hope to boot. (That’s it!! I’m going to pretend that creepy clown sweater is smiling because its happy for me, not because he’s going to eat me once I fall asleep.) It all starts tomorrow!

With that I bid you farewell, good tidings and Happy Zombie Sky-Fairy Day!!

Finally got the app working again. Behold! A draft post to post.

I’m finding it difficult to relate to a few people in my life. This is troubling because they are my closest friends. Well, honestly its one person in particular. The cry me a river stories about not having enough money and yet getting her nails done are just tiring. She finally has a place big enough for her and her first child, with a second on the way, and isn’t staying at it because she doesn’t want to be alone. “What if something dangerously unexpected happens to me?” SERIOUSLY?! Well what if I got knocked up in my sleep by the Holy Ghost and what if that baby was the last unicorn and what if I ate a whole pizza for dinner? It was freakin delicious!! Really. That’s your thought process O’ Great and Fat with pregnancy One? Man, if I thought like that when I lived in my car I wouldn’t have lasted for five minutes…oh wait, I didn’t have anywhere to go anyway so even if i did think it, I still had to live with myself and my thoughts. There have been some serious gems of stupidity from her lately. Oddly I know that her getting under my skin like this is because of me, she’s my family. I love her BUT… sometimes I really don’t. I don’t care what she does with her life but it would be fantastic if she would think about the words that come from her mouth and how they may affect others.

End rant