I have so many things to update about, and yet all that's on my mind is that if my back upper back were also a man, I have clearly slept with his wife and killed his dog.
I carry a laptop in a horribly inefficient messenger bag absolutely everywhere I go, for fear of leaving the still unpaid for computer anywhere but by my side. I am sleeping on various people's couches 3 nights a week, which lack in both back support and sufficient pillows. I spend inordinate amounts of time on my laptop, needing it for school and work and play and to update my facebook 24567 times a day. I regularly hoist up 40-50 pound toddlers up onto my hips and sometimes shoulders, carrying them around and sometimes whirling them around behind my back. Not to mention the pair of very beautiful, but also very heavy 36DDD boobs that I've got to keep afloat with nothing but pretty ribbon and what is likely coat-hanger wire.
Seems I may have developed some back problems.
I am, by all accounts, a muddled-up mass of injury at this point.
I still have a little limp on my left leg and now what appears to be a FUCKING STAB WOUND from the blue party last week, so the left leg is out of commission. My right leg is essentially fine, but it's pickin' up lefty's slack and it ain't happy about it. My hips, try as they might to avoid it, are bumped by my messenger bag, car doors, and door frames on such regular intervals that I've got two, half-moon shaped bruises atop each one. My right shoulder is the one that seems to be enacting the wrath of a drunken cuckold, and my uterus is in the process of punishing me inordinately for not bearing child this month. That last one, however, should always be regarded as a blessing. This all on top of the typical behaviour of little sleep, high caffeine levels, and pathetic eating schedule.
Wah, wah, wah, so on and so forth, poor me, poor me.
Anyway, I'm sorry to not write about visiting Graceland, Too with my friends in Holly Springs, MS at 1AM where I encountered the single most insane experience of my life. Add I don't have time to write about how I solved my boy problems, and even though there were tears and I'm still feeling a little rejected and in the process of licking my wounds, it's over, and that sure is better than having a "boyfriend"- blech. And I would post about how I was getting more and more scared of graduating, but once again the illustrious Miss Mullen of all things Glorious and Glitterous stepped in and eased my nerves.
But for now, laying on my bed and typing like this?
I THINK THIS IS HOW IT ALL STARTED, YOU MORON.
<3gen
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
"The Not-So-Good Leonora" or "My Analyst Warned Me, But You Were So Beautiful I Got Another Analyst"
This is what I really wish this blog could be like.
But I'm afraid that my writing skills are not up to par, I am far too honest and far too personal, and it will always be apparent that this is yet another place I go for affirmation.
But you guys still like my way a little, right?
See, there it is. Right there.
<3gen
p.s. Preview for next post: Graceland Too in Holly Springs, MS, how I'd forgotten how truly glorious it is to be single, and how I am slowly becoming afraid to graduate school.
But I'm afraid that my writing skills are not up to par, I am far too honest and far too personal, and it will always be apparent that this is yet another place I go for affirmation.
But you guys still like my way a little, right?
See, there it is. Right there.
<3gen
p.s. Preview for next post: Graceland Too in Holly Springs, MS, how I'd forgotten how truly glorious it is to be single, and how I am slowly becoming afraid to graduate school.
Friday, February 13, 2009
"But You Still Crumble At My Name" or "I'm Building Lonely Mixtapes All Night Long"
Never wish that your life were more interesting. EVER.
<3gen
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
"Like He Was The Hat And Those Songs Were The Rabbit" or "The Earth Is Warmer When You Laugh"
I am so tired of having to take care of this silly physical being. Why can't I just run around in cowboy boots without arch support, tense my shoulders over a computer for 6 hours a day, stress myself out,consume nothing but lattes and beer, and sleep two hours a night? Why is that so fucking bad for me? Come on, it's 2009, why haven't we figured this out?
Well, since it appears that the above scenario doesn't bode well for feeling very healthy, I certainly haven't. I've been hitting that stage where you meet people on the sidewalk and they say, "Oh hey, you look tired!" At which point you just want to say something like, "Well thanks," or punch them. I've begun craving the Victorian Era where it would be perfectly acceptable for me to walk into class, discover that my test in not in fact a week away but is today, and just faint onto a nearby couch. But nobody invests in fainting couches these days.
Inside all of this physical abuse my emotional center has turned into something resembling a poor little bruised peach. I just can't ever turn off these pesky little neurons that keep firing and re-firing, analyzing and over-analyzing, alternating between being convinced that my needy-little-self is what makes me so gosh-darned-lovable, and perpetual loathing of how that needy-little-self might be the thing standing between me and what I want. The other night I sat across from him while he talked about music, and wrote down every word he said. God, it's just as tiring to try and take care of this emotional peach as it is to take care of my vital organs.
More than an adequate fainting couch, I've been craving escape. I want to hide, disappear. Instead of work, school, friends, parties, I want to sit in my room and organize my music files, read all the books I've got but have never read, paint my desk, sew a dress. I just want to lock myself in my room for days and stay in bed under my big, white comforter and pretend I'm in the clouds.
My strange sleep schedule has lent itself to intense and frequent dreaming. Every time I wake up I'm so disappointed that there's this big, great, free adventure happening in my head, and I have to miss it so that I can do things like eat, work, and live.
<3gen
Well, since it appears that the above scenario doesn't bode well for feeling very healthy, I certainly haven't. I've been hitting that stage where you meet people on the sidewalk and they say, "Oh hey, you look tired!" At which point you just want to say something like, "Well thanks," or punch them. I've begun craving the Victorian Era where it would be perfectly acceptable for me to walk into class, discover that my test in not in fact a week away but is today, and just faint onto a nearby couch. But nobody invests in fainting couches these days.
Inside all of this physical abuse my emotional center has turned into something resembling a poor little bruised peach. I just can't ever turn off these pesky little neurons that keep firing and re-firing, analyzing and over-analyzing, alternating between being convinced that my needy-little-self is what makes me so gosh-darned-lovable, and perpetual loathing of how that needy-little-self might be the thing standing between me and what I want. The other night I sat across from him while he talked about music, and wrote down every word he said. God, it's just as tiring to try and take care of this emotional peach as it is to take care of my vital organs.
More than an adequate fainting couch, I've been craving escape. I want to hide, disappear. Instead of work, school, friends, parties, I want to sit in my room and organize my music files, read all the books I've got but have never read, paint my desk, sew a dress. I just want to lock myself in my room for days and stay in bed under my big, white comforter and pretend I'm in the clouds.
My strange sleep schedule has lent itself to intense and frequent dreaming. Every time I wake up I'm so disappointed that there's this big, great, free adventure happening in my head, and I have to miss it so that I can do things like eat, work, and live.
<3gen
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
"Reasons To Love You" or "The Best People I Know"
I'm tired of writing about myself. I want to write about you guys.
Yeah, you guys. All those glorious little humanoids that I love so much, and why I love ya, and why we're friends, and why I think you're just so gosh darned cool. This blog is such a monument to my self-indulgence and vanity, let's take a break. I just want to talk to you.
Dear Mom,
There are times when your absolute marvelousness crashes into me like waves on the California shore where you used to live and wanted a basketball for Christmas. You are the smartest person I know, the most level-headed person I know, and you make me feel better about absolutely everything. Sometimes I just don't know how you do it all, or how you manage to express love in such a healthy, beautiful, and balanced way. I hope and pray that I turn into my mother.
Dear Dad,
I tell you, there's just no love in the world like Daddy for his little girl. Things haven't always been easy for you and me, but only because we are so much the same. Chronic extroverts, loud in public, always want to make the whole room laugh. And you certainly do. If I can trust you to do anything, you can always make people smile. While mom is ready to push me out of the nest with my fully-grown wings, you hold on tightly and insist that I'm not yet ready to fly. I cling to you still, as I may well into adulthood, trying so desperately to stay the little girl I am inside. You show me remarkable wisdom every day, while also teaching me so many things about myself. Even when you frustrate me most, it teaches me more about love.
Dear Anna,
Heavens, has it all been said? So many times? We are the wands, we are the vikings. You are my heart and I am yours. You are everything I dreamed you would be the day that you were born, and I love you more every time I think about you. You have saved my life so many times and never known it, and when everything else has seemed collapsing and crumbling, there has always been you. If I knew anyone who deserved to be a Saint, it would be you. Just don't get lit on fire or anything, be the sort of saint who dies of old age while dancing fiercely in a storm of firecrackers and wild swans.
Dear Linn,
You make me feel a little less crazy, and a little more crazy, and you make me laugh like nobody else. You and I come from the same place, and our backpacks weigh as much as our hearts, and our brains never turn off, and we're always caffeinated and no one understands what we mean but us. You are the only friend I can study with effectively. Also, never stop telling me when I'm being a bitch, I need that.
Dear Lindsey,
I've said it a million times, and if anyone has been given love and credit on this blog, it's certainly you. I don't seem to be able to talk enough about how much I love you. You remind me to be spontaneous, that time is a construct, and that yes, we need a baby seal. You put up with me at my worst, and you are always honest with me, and you deal with me being stupid and mean gracefully and kindly. Also, never stop telling me that I'm being loud, I need that too.
Dear Ginny,
You remind me sometimes that I'm not alone. You make me feel less ridiculous, less silly, like I'm not the only one. There are some days where I feel like I haven't learned anything, and I feel silly for letting boy problems make my head spin, and everyone around me is agreeing with me that I'm much too mature to let relationship problems bog me down so much anymore. Then there you are, telling me that it's ok if I still get emotional sometimes, and maybe it isn't ridiculous, but maybe it's okay if I fall in love all the time. You make me feel okay about being in love with everyone.
Dear Alex,
On those nights when only the Christmas lights on your mantle are lit, or you strike a match in a dark room, or all the clocks in the whole house are wrong and you say, "Hey, can I read you something? It's really amazing," those are the nights that I want to remember forever and forever and forever. When you smile and dance around a room, or talk about one single song for thirteen minutes, or read a poem when no one in the room wants to hear it but you read it anyway because I want to hear it and I could have you read me stories all day, those are the best parts about you in the whole world. I wish I read as much as you do. I wish I had a smile like yours.
Dear Daniel H.,
There are certain friends that you have, and no matter how much time passes, or what you go through together, or how much time passes between phone calls, they are always there for you no matter what, and we're those kind of friends. I love that we have managed to stay close over the years, and nobody gets you like I do, and nobody gets me like you do. I like putting up with you. I like watching you get silly perturbed over little things. I like that I can be honest with you, and you with me. I like that we have learned each other so well. I like that we will always, always, be brother and sister.
Dear Cooper,
I say this with complete sincerity and no exaggeration: There is no one else in my life that I can be so completely myself with. I think this feeling is mutual for us. We've talked about it before, but you and I were just meant to be roommates. We know each other like mapmakers know the land, and we've surveyed and drawn borders and we could walk around with our eyes closed. There are nights when we both are saying nothing in particular, but we just laugh and we just get it. And it just works. I know you and all your quirks, and I love them. You know what to expect from me, and you always make me laugh. You and I can always have a silent conversation in a room full of people and that's perfect.
Dear Ben W,
I don't think I yell louder or smile bigger than when you walk through the door at a party. I know that we don't see each other very often, but I think that maybe that's how we're supposed to be. So every time I see you, I yell and get so excited my eyes start to water. I want to hug you more, though. And have coffee with you more, and jump on you more, and dance with you more. So maybe I lied, maybe we need to see each other much, much more often. And also, you're a brilliant writer.
Dear Ryan Spain,
I like that we are friends again, and that we have crossed so many bridges together- even while they were burning. We will always have strings stretching between our hearts, and we'll always have little secrets floating between us that make us best friends. We have been to the edge of the earth together, and we will always keep each other from that edge again. We are the lovers.
Dear Ryan Scruggs,
You and I are the same. We have the same heart, the same sigh when we feel lonely, and I think we will soon be at point where we can hear each other at night lamenting over the same lost things. You can always understand me, and you are always there for me and you always make me laugh. Over the years we've seen each other through so much, and we've always managed to laugh. You will always be a force of optimism and laughter in my life.
Dear Laura,
Goodness gracious you're cute. I love that you have come into my life, and into James's. Your laugh can light up a dark room and you are always up for an adventure. I've never met someone who seemed so at peace that they radiated peace from them- except James, of course. You're always ready to stay up another hour, cook something ridiculous late at night, and go on a big glorious trip for that crazy thing called love. You have a knack for making families everywhere you go.
Dear James,
Can enough be said about you, my dear? A source of strength, wisdom, and endless, endless late nights of ridiculous laughter and absurd stories that no one will understand years from now except the few of us who were there. You can make fun and beauty out of absolutely anything, and I will always be amazed by that. You are one of the most determined people I know, and the amount of knowledge and travel that you have accomplished over the years makes me so proud of you. You and I have been through the fire, and I love you so so so very much for the person that you are. If I could be like you in any way, I would love to be able to have the courage that you have to try new things. Oh, and be good at them. That would be nice, too.
Dear Ben R,
You and I will always be a beautiful thing. You will always play music late at night, and I will always call you while I walk through dark parking lots because I know that you want me to be safe. We will always be friends. One way or another, at one time or another, we will always be friends.
Dear Daniel M,
I smile just thinkin' about you. You can always make the world seem a little more manageable, a little less scary, and a little more musical. You have fun with absolutely everything and god knows we all need more of that in our lives. You live your life as a series of beautiful moments, and I want to be in more of them. Just to see the brightness of it all.
Dear Jeremy,
I wear your necklace for good luck. It means the world to me, still. As do you.
Dear Kat&Liz,
I include you two together because you both are my creative inspiration. Kat, you are my painted bird. Liz, you are my vintage pillbox hat. You are both the artists I wished I could always be but never had quite the skill or the passion, and it delights me to no end that you are both in the world. I miss you terribly and kick myself for not orchestrating trips to see you more often. Have no doubt, I will.
Dear boys: Logan, Morgan, Paker, &Michael
It is so wonderful that you kids haven't gotten tired of me yet, because goodness knows you're the most fun kids on the block. Logan, I'm never going to understand you and that's always going to make me happy and love you more. Your knowledge of music will always absolutely dumbfound me. Morgan, you're a great guitar teacher and I love how much you make me laugh. Half the time I don't understand your sense of humor which somehow, some way, makes it even funnier. Parker, I like that I can look at you from across the room and we shake our heads and think man these people are crazy, and that now I've found one other person that understands how great milk actually is. Michael, get a facebook.
Dear Jennifer C,
Thank you for being such a glorious mother, and such a good friend. I know I have told you again and again, but you have managed to raise two little kids so full of joy sometimes I think they're going to start lighting up from the inside. I always feel comfortable around you and I feel like I've gained a second family. You're one seriously awesome woman.
Dear William F,
Oh, you get it.
<3gen
Yeah, you guys. All those glorious little humanoids that I love so much, and why I love ya, and why we're friends, and why I think you're just so gosh darned cool. This blog is such a monument to my self-indulgence and vanity, let's take a break. I just want to talk to you.
Dear Mom,
There are times when your absolute marvelousness crashes into me like waves on the California shore where you used to live and wanted a basketball for Christmas. You are the smartest person I know, the most level-headed person I know, and you make me feel better about absolutely everything. Sometimes I just don't know how you do it all, or how you manage to express love in such a healthy, beautiful, and balanced way. I hope and pray that I turn into my mother.
Dear Dad,
I tell you, there's just no love in the world like Daddy for his little girl. Things haven't always been easy for you and me, but only because we are so much the same. Chronic extroverts, loud in public, always want to make the whole room laugh. And you certainly do. If I can trust you to do anything, you can always make people smile. While mom is ready to push me out of the nest with my fully-grown wings, you hold on tightly and insist that I'm not yet ready to fly. I cling to you still, as I may well into adulthood, trying so desperately to stay the little girl I am inside. You show me remarkable wisdom every day, while also teaching me so many things about myself. Even when you frustrate me most, it teaches me more about love.
Dear Anna,
Heavens, has it all been said? So many times? We are the wands, we are the vikings. You are my heart and I am yours. You are everything I dreamed you would be the day that you were born, and I love you more every time I think about you. You have saved my life so many times and never known it, and when everything else has seemed collapsing and crumbling, there has always been you. If I knew anyone who deserved to be a Saint, it would be you. Just don't get lit on fire or anything, be the sort of saint who dies of old age while dancing fiercely in a storm of firecrackers and wild swans.
Dear Linn,
You make me feel a little less crazy, and a little more crazy, and you make me laugh like nobody else. You and I come from the same place, and our backpacks weigh as much as our hearts, and our brains never turn off, and we're always caffeinated and no one understands what we mean but us. You are the only friend I can study with effectively. Also, never stop telling me when I'm being a bitch, I need that.
Dear Lindsey,
I've said it a million times, and if anyone has been given love and credit on this blog, it's certainly you. I don't seem to be able to talk enough about how much I love you. You remind me to be spontaneous, that time is a construct, and that yes, we need a baby seal. You put up with me at my worst, and you are always honest with me, and you deal with me being stupid and mean gracefully and kindly. Also, never stop telling me that I'm being loud, I need that too.
Dear Ginny,
You remind me sometimes that I'm not alone. You make me feel less ridiculous, less silly, like I'm not the only one. There are some days where I feel like I haven't learned anything, and I feel silly for letting boy problems make my head spin, and everyone around me is agreeing with me that I'm much too mature to let relationship problems bog me down so much anymore. Then there you are, telling me that it's ok if I still get emotional sometimes, and maybe it isn't ridiculous, but maybe it's okay if I fall in love all the time. You make me feel okay about being in love with everyone.
Dear Alex,
On those nights when only the Christmas lights on your mantle are lit, or you strike a match in a dark room, or all the clocks in the whole house are wrong and you say, "Hey, can I read you something? It's really amazing," those are the nights that I want to remember forever and forever and forever. When you smile and dance around a room, or talk about one single song for thirteen minutes, or read a poem when no one in the room wants to hear it but you read it anyway because I want to hear it and I could have you read me stories all day, those are the best parts about you in the whole world. I wish I read as much as you do. I wish I had a smile like yours.
Dear Daniel H.,
There are certain friends that you have, and no matter how much time passes, or what you go through together, or how much time passes between phone calls, they are always there for you no matter what, and we're those kind of friends. I love that we have managed to stay close over the years, and nobody gets you like I do, and nobody gets me like you do. I like putting up with you. I like watching you get silly perturbed over little things. I like that I can be honest with you, and you with me. I like that we have learned each other so well. I like that we will always, always, be brother and sister.
Dear Cooper,
I say this with complete sincerity and no exaggeration: There is no one else in my life that I can be so completely myself with. I think this feeling is mutual for us. We've talked about it before, but you and I were just meant to be roommates. We know each other like mapmakers know the land, and we've surveyed and drawn borders and we could walk around with our eyes closed. There are nights when we both are saying nothing in particular, but we just laugh and we just get it. And it just works. I know you and all your quirks, and I love them. You know what to expect from me, and you always make me laugh. You and I can always have a silent conversation in a room full of people and that's perfect.
Dear Ben W,
I don't think I yell louder or smile bigger than when you walk through the door at a party. I know that we don't see each other very often, but I think that maybe that's how we're supposed to be. So every time I see you, I yell and get so excited my eyes start to water. I want to hug you more, though. And have coffee with you more, and jump on you more, and dance with you more. So maybe I lied, maybe we need to see each other much, much more often. And also, you're a brilliant writer.
Dear Ryan Spain,
I like that we are friends again, and that we have crossed so many bridges together- even while they were burning. We will always have strings stretching between our hearts, and we'll always have little secrets floating between us that make us best friends. We have been to the edge of the earth together, and we will always keep each other from that edge again. We are the lovers.
Dear Ryan Scruggs,
You and I are the same. We have the same heart, the same sigh when we feel lonely, and I think we will soon be at point where we can hear each other at night lamenting over the same lost things. You can always understand me, and you are always there for me and you always make me laugh. Over the years we've seen each other through so much, and we've always managed to laugh. You will always be a force of optimism and laughter in my life.
Dear Laura,
Goodness gracious you're cute. I love that you have come into my life, and into James's. Your laugh can light up a dark room and you are always up for an adventure. I've never met someone who seemed so at peace that they radiated peace from them- except James, of course. You're always ready to stay up another hour, cook something ridiculous late at night, and go on a big glorious trip for that crazy thing called love. You have a knack for making families everywhere you go.
Dear James,
Can enough be said about you, my dear? A source of strength, wisdom, and endless, endless late nights of ridiculous laughter and absurd stories that no one will understand years from now except the few of us who were there. You can make fun and beauty out of absolutely anything, and I will always be amazed by that. You are one of the most determined people I know, and the amount of knowledge and travel that you have accomplished over the years makes me so proud of you. You and I have been through the fire, and I love you so so so very much for the person that you are. If I could be like you in any way, I would love to be able to have the courage that you have to try new things. Oh, and be good at them. That would be nice, too.
Dear Ben R,
You and I will always be a beautiful thing. You will always play music late at night, and I will always call you while I walk through dark parking lots because I know that you want me to be safe. We will always be friends. One way or another, at one time or another, we will always be friends.
Dear Daniel M,
I smile just thinkin' about you. You can always make the world seem a little more manageable, a little less scary, and a little more musical. You have fun with absolutely everything and god knows we all need more of that in our lives. You live your life as a series of beautiful moments, and I want to be in more of them. Just to see the brightness of it all.
Dear Jeremy,
I wear your necklace for good luck. It means the world to me, still. As do you.
Dear Kat&Liz,
I include you two together because you both are my creative inspiration. Kat, you are my painted bird. Liz, you are my vintage pillbox hat. You are both the artists I wished I could always be but never had quite the skill or the passion, and it delights me to no end that you are both in the world. I miss you terribly and kick myself for not orchestrating trips to see you more often. Have no doubt, I will.
Dear boys: Logan, Morgan, Paker, &Michael
It is so wonderful that you kids haven't gotten tired of me yet, because goodness knows you're the most fun kids on the block. Logan, I'm never going to understand you and that's always going to make me happy and love you more. Your knowledge of music will always absolutely dumbfound me. Morgan, you're a great guitar teacher and I love how much you make me laugh. Half the time I don't understand your sense of humor which somehow, some way, makes it even funnier. Parker, I like that I can look at you from across the room and we shake our heads and think man these people are crazy, and that now I've found one other person that understands how great milk actually is. Michael, get a facebook.
Dear Jennifer C,
Thank you for being such a glorious mother, and such a good friend. I know I have told you again and again, but you have managed to raise two little kids so full of joy sometimes I think they're going to start lighting up from the inside. I always feel comfortable around you and I feel like I've gained a second family. You're one seriously awesome woman.
Dear William F,
Oh, you get it.
<3gen
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