alot of nuthin.

it began monday, the arrival of a random email from an old friend in my inbox and each day another follows suit. an absoluetly wonderful suprise but kinda weird at the same time, i wonder if thiers something about this time of the year that reminds people of me, or, maybe some saucy gossip is circulating the inner circles of dallas and it's surrounding cities about me. it's too out of the blue to be taken without some sort of curiousity.

this afternoon i spoke to my mothers 2nd grade class about pool safety and what it means to be a lifegaurd. i swear i've never felt so cool in my life than i did when i looked into those 2nd graders eyes. with hands stretched eagerly high into the air they asked me questions and tolled me stories, one by one i answered such pertinant inquiries such as: "what if your in a pool and theirs a stray dog in it too and it's trying to bite you and the lifeguard doesn't see it?", and then, "what if the lifeguard gets lost and your lost too, who then should i go to?". michelle was a featured attraction too; handing out british candy and post cards with picturesque images of the thames river, drilling them on the translation of british slang words, and answereing her own set of questions in which she was asked if she knew the queen.

we left from their with plans of playing with our new boom paddles at the beach but massive globs of seaweed, grey skies, and high winds put a kink into our boom.

i went to go develop my disposable camera but accidentally developed michelles that only had nine pictures on it. she was really cool about it and instead of huffing and puffing since she did ask me prior to dropping it off if i had the right one, she laughed and said it was a missie thing to do. and it is.

on the way home we listened to snow patrol and the leaves. i'm really serious about learning how to play the bass and michelle is going to learn how to play the electrical guitar. i want to be in a band like snow patrol or the doves but i'm afraid that the greatness of songs such as "run" would leave me sobbing. michelles funny, she thinks she would start smashing shit. wouldn't that be a sight; me crying from being moved so mightly and her pushing over the drum kit with the mike stand from being moved so mightly.

we were in charge of dinner tonight and fixed one hell of a feast: rotassier chicken, glazed carrots, garlic mashed potatoes, hummus with red peppers and cucumbers. and even though my dad is on that crazy no carb diet he still paid homage to the fact his two girls slaved over the stove for a hour by taking both a serving of the carrots and potatoes.

i'm suprised at how fun this week has been considering monday. perspective and understanding has been swift, and having my best friend to drag me off the computer and too the hot tub....

cool.

shine...,schmine. turn around...,schmernaround.

i suppose it's fitting that i ran out of time thursday to finish that post because that's exactly how long the shining lasted; a morning kiss on my boob, an evening spent watching mtv, a lemon cake, an excitement to trust, a sensation of optomism and happiness for the present moment. but it was gone before it was ever here. still i'm shining, but not from the joy that comes from having the chance to make someone you love happy, but from a day at the beach and the continual laughter that is inescapable when my sister and i are togather.

every girl knows the only way to prove your moving on is to get a drastic haircut or a new boyfriend. but the thing is, i'm really happy with the length of my hair and i'm super duper picky so i've decided to add a loop hole to the "see, i'm so over you" exclamation mark of break-ups/endings. mine will be a day trip to Mexico with my sister, learning how to play the bass, organizing a book club, hosting dinner parties and game night, daydreaming about falling in love with the man who will fall in love with me, and spending the money i was saving to buy him a new computer with on new shoes for me or, maybe, on fixing my cars tire alignment. it's really bad, within the past year i speulate i've had about five flat tires, and three of those were blow-outs on the highway. the most recent, yesterday. i'm scared for the day that luck abdons me and i'm left on the side of road in oakcliff in the middle of the night or the blow out that i can't handle and am sent plowing 70mph into the car next to me.

almost ten years ago, while returning home from watching a soccer game with teny-tiny in the front seat, belle and non-blogger friend in the back seat, a car ran a red light; sending the back seat passengers to the hospital, the girl with parrots in her back seat and no insurance to the other side, and my car into a swamp and from their, the junk yard. for months i wouldn't drive through that stop light, avoiding it at all costs, creating lengthy detours to the soccer fields that in the past were only ten minuets away. i'm not sure how much time went by, but, eventually i decided that i wouldn't let the past dictate the roads i did or didn't take to arrive to my desired point of destination, that i would face my monster, and hopefully this time around, make it through the green light. it was then that i first felt fear cripple my arm, sending some sort of electrical shock of tension and pain through the tips of my finger tips to my elbow. it's a rare occurance but every now and again if i've come close to have been hit or hitting someone else i can feel my arm feeling as it did that day. the blow out yesterday caused the most intense pain my arm has ever felt.

i guess the wisest thing to do is to fix my tire alignment and settle for proving that i've moved past jon by day dreaming after dinner parties in my old diesels; happy and content with the way things have ended.

damian rice took the words out of my heart: "i'll be fine, just give me time".

i love april 22

because today is my fathers birthday. because today at 2:20pm belle will be here. because today is not yesterday.

and if you only knew what happened yesterday....you'd be kissing the gray sky this morning too. i loathe april 21. i really liked april 20. and now on april 22 i'm hoping things can be given the chance to turn around, afterall, apart from yesterday it was semi looking up, and, afterall, it's either time to make it or break it. the trick is this time i'm not going to make the same mistakes or exasperate myself in pursuit of squeezing something that may or may not be there. it involves risk taking; forgetting and trusting with my heart on the line. it's the scariest thing in the world to me. scarier than finding a scorpio in my shoe. scarier than swimming in a pool full of snakes and boy bands. scarier than getting my makeup done at one of those stands in dillards. but it's the only way for peace and compatability to have their chance to shine.

.

this picture has absolutely nothing to do with my post.

and i'm in one of those moods where everything i write, i delete. so rather than waste another hour on a post i'll most likely send to the abyss of aborted thoughts, i figure a list will able to escape my itchy fingers.

yesterday involved:
- a morning fight that endowed me with the worst headache i can remember having in forever.
- okra, dr.pepper, and a check for $1.76
- a big blue ball that seemed to fall from heaven. i'm not joking. jon and i were walking to toby's studio when out of nowhere this huge blue ball comes bouncing with great speed and passes our path. i thought i was seeing things until jon looked back at me with the same face of perplexed amusement and shock.
- a winning scrabble score of 437.
- black rebel motorcycle club...yoozzers!!!!

the apprentice, god, and mis-spellings galore

before the plot has a had a chance to form i usually can correctly predict the ending/the killer/the underdog that is going to save the day/the villian that your going to want to root for/etc and etc. i can sing the correct words to the chorus of a song i've never heard before simply by listening to the first few verses. i can determine crushes being formed before their voiced. and sadly enough, even though i knew, i'd still fall for the boy i knew was going to eventually fall for my best friend and her for him; been caught suprised when the little girl was the killer though i thought it all along; hummed instead of belting it out. doubting my keen sense of perception, caught in the crossfire of it's accuracy. tonight was no different. quami, of the apprentice, made it to the end but then was beaten by olwhatshisname, and even though i knew it was going to happen, yet still, was i disappointed that who i had hoped for since the very beginning, though doubting if he could pull it off, got fired. i'll get it right one of these days; one of these days i'll prepare myself for the inevitable, an inevitable i knew and i'll be happy with the outcome. and this i hope you see has drifted from my disappointemnt about trumps choice to life in it's general scheme. a scheme that hands you both crisp washington state apples and rotten border town oranges.

it's suprising to me how gracefully belle is handeling having to come back to the states. it's friggin perspective at it's finest. it's trust that god has a bigger plan than what we can see. it must be that peace that comes from trusting something or someone bigger is behind the wheel and that they have your best intrest in mind. t-r-u-s-t in something you can't see........a guarantee without a warranty, wow. it's inspiration. it's not lying to yourself- it's admitting in disappointment, hurt, and pain while remaining true to believing that "His ways are not our ways". achieving that with gladness in your heart and skeptism laid aside is just mind boggeling. finding the lesson at hand amidst personal disappointment; the sensation of abdonment/rejection/dreams undone, incredible in a magnificent sort of ridiculouness. conscience to the the silver lining on every dark cloud, that at the end of every rainbow is a pot of gold, a treasure chest of cliches to be discovered. though i could get philospohical, carry on for hours in heated debate with myself, and to those that will continue in the quest for irrefutable logic, i congratulate you, i lift my bottled water to your lifelong adventure and your eventual arrival to metaphyics or agnotistic liberation. while i honor such feats, i know it's too exhausting for me. i always thought skeptism was an achievement, something to dote myself above the masses; my quest for TRUTH, winding down the alleys of Nietzche up to the balcony with Kiekkergard, always playing to not play "the extensionalist". rough housing with Kant, fantazing about Socrates, playing tic-tac-toe with the ideas of Dewey: logic and understanding ya'll. and yet i'll never be able to abdon it completely. i'm a lifelong addict to thought and the pursuit of truth. but the truth i found at six years old is the only truth at twenty-four my heart will let it wrap itself around. it's the truth that has belle cool as a cat during a time in which most, if not outwardly then inwardly, would undergo a battle with doubt and wavering. it's the truth that god is good and he's in control. plain and simple, no ifs ands buts about it. aka: absolute confidence in absolute divine attributes. at times it is so hard to swallow. when the world comes crashing around your feet or the news brings headlines of war and an incurable HIV epidemic in s.africa. god, at those moments it's so effin hard. etc, etc eg: i went to romania to be a beam of hope totting with me humatarian goodies and on the outside i succeded but their was something dissettling about seeing those children full of endless possabilities and knowing that they would most likely spend the rest of their young life in an orphange to be kicked out onto the streets by the age of 18 without any education, any skills and nowhere to go...i just wanted to stick my head in the ground as a professing christian who could only bring a year supply of pencils, socks, and tooth paste. i wanted reasons. i wanted justice. i wanted god's goodness to not stop at the border of western civilization. but i'm venturing too far away from shore. these are things i'll never be able to fully communite anyways.

it's getting late. it's not friday anymore, it's saturday and first thing tomorrow morning i need to mozzy on out of here back up to dallas. i can't wait to see lou, to play scrabble with jon, to hear all about wtf is up with andy these days but better than godiva chocolate ice-cream, i get to go see the ffg with my best friend and ec on thursday night.

life has it's rotten oranges, quami got fired, but damn just check out those apples!!!

faces that blur, memories that kiss

i'm dying for interaction and reason. it's an inate part of my nature; to believe, to trust, the act of sharing, discovering, and loving. past the superficial delving into a true connection and revelation. striken to remebering secrets that were never whispered but shouted in mute, the notes written on autumn leaves that would float into my inbox, those nights spent on hidden patios laughing and drinking, wishing and planning a summer in st.petersburg....a sign that i haven't lost it. that somewhere it's there-we're there, all of us...my friends, me, and that great connection that tied us to eternity-the understanding of what should be made and kept important.

each day that passes in this solitude from closeness and purpose, i feel, a piece of me is lost.

if home is where the heart is than, "i've been blowing around like trash on the freeway out, far from home".

i'm grabbing. i'm keeping some at a distant reach, cautious as to their and my motives...unsure if i want to subsitute or subscribe while pleading to be taken inside.
i've been fooling myself.
this is so dreary. this: the effort it takes to forget those friendships and dreams made while sleeping with your heart wide open.

in another song,
"oh take me back to the start"

like father like daughter

it must have been way back in high school that i remember someone telling me that one day i was going to wake up and realize that i had become my parents. and to this notion i was skeptical to the point of belly aching laughter. years later i'm still laughing at the absurdity of that ever being completely true yet my skepticism fades as the years give way to the discovery of the similarities of my mother and (in this story) my father to myself. for starters my book collection, which is mostly composed of old obscure philosophical paperbacks and off the wall autobiographies, eerily resembles his obsession with theology and bibical historical accounts. then there is my fascination and adoration for physics, my adamant refusal to wear sunblock(which has resulted in the back of my legs being burnt to a soft crisp while at the beach this afternoon), the hidden sarcasism no one else can ever seem to pick up on, eating all the black olives before holiday dinners, intense loyality, a semi- tendency to randomly choose something and take it to the extreme(him with that damn atkins diet and me with productivity), and, the one i wish i could take after my mother about- always saying the right thing versus saying things i don't really mean or saying them the wrong way. so often what comes out or gets locked and loaded in type, hardly reflects my intent and what i had hoped would be understood. take for instance the conversation that happened in the car last night: my grandmother, my mother, and myself are driving to target because my gramma has a wedding coming up and she wants us to help her pick out a scarf and matching purse for this navy blue dress suit she will be wearing to it. my aunt, back in florida, has suggested she look for something "citrus" colored and this information she is passing along to us. my mother agrees and then adds how nice that color scheme will look together. i keep silent in hope that the conversation will pass but they are set on discussing this topic to it's grave, constantly poking their gun of interest at me until i have been cornered with no way out and must give an opinion and so i do, though have long forgotten the exacts, yet it was something that my mother felt neccesary to retort back, " well michelle is a very flamboyant dresser". to this i agree and add, "but it's not a loud and trashy sort of flamboyant style". which fills the montero sport with silence and immediately i know it's come out the wrong way. so i start to try and dig out of the hole in which i just blasted myself in with the stereotypical ohshit response formula of: explain, apologize and flatter. "not that your trashy gramma, i'm sorry, it's that i meant that color combination would be too loud on your soft complexion". and i was being sincere, my grandmother has such a sweet and subtle personality that i think her wearing a "citrus" colored shirt, a matching scarf, and purse IN combination with a navy blue blazer would just be too much. but silence ensued and then like manna from heaven they began to laugh, not because what i said was funny, but that, in a layering sync of perfect understanding they chimed, "oh your just like your father"

it's a total latte experience

in loo to rid myself from becoming co-caffenine-dependent i've begun to reacquaint myself with other java-esque contraptions. i've always enjoyed the chai tea latte but tonight my enjoyment was brought to a whole new level; tonight, what previously had been nothing more than casual flirting turned into a steamy affair of pure delight. starbucks has it all wrong and aqua java has it all right. i might have let out an orgasmic sigh in front of total strangers but sometimes the pleasure is worth a little vocalization...and embarrassment.

this is what i missed last night:

"YOU'RE NOT GOING TO FCKING BELIEVE THIS AND I'M WRITING IN ALL CAPS BECAUSE THAT IS HOW FRIGGIN' EXCITED I AM RIGHT NOW. SO, THE DARKNESS GOT MOVED TO GYPSY AND THEY PUT MORE TICKETS ON SALE 5 MINUTES AGO AND I GOT 2!!!!!! SO, THEY WERE $20 A POP, BUT HOT DAMN IT'S GONNA BE WORTH IT. AND I'M OFFERING MY SECOND TICKET TO YOU MY DEAR FRIEND FIRST BECAUSE I KNOW YOU REALLY WANT TO GO. OK, TALK TO YOU LATER,
R "

and that's ok because i still believe in a thing called Love and being back to dallas in time for the brmc and the rapture....

reverting under the texas sun

remember how fabulous our red toe nail polish looked against the bronze of our feet? it was our saving grace from the hideous tan lines those sport back suits gave us and it was quite a sight of grace i must admit. add a toe ring and we were invinsible. the coolness of spring is already transforming to a stingy heat, you can feel it as you climb into your car; the doom that is to come, those days of 110 degree weather, in no time. it's no secret here on starsailing what a mess i'm in. my father and i did some brain storming the other day as to why, because, you can't fix a problem until you understand the reason for it. and so we sat here in the guest bedroom, me on the chair and him on the floor, discussing the different variables and resolutions to each one presented. but i'll spare you. i've come to the conclusion that perhaps spending a summer back on stand might not be such a bad idea. i was good at it. it was something i enjoyed and excelled in. i gave it up because it was always something i related to the notion of youth, a very short term occupation, to assist me finicially for the time being. i guess i'm reverting in hope that it'll assist me finicially for the time being, again. going backwards depresses me but on the flip side i get to save lives and acheive having feet worthy of pedicures and sandals.

sweet.

now, is this not just the perfect dress for attending a summer wedding or what?!?

(please keep all "whats" to yourself and affirmations enthusiastic)

eerie. pun intended.

i was running: my feet, each glide, gracing the air above the ground, speedily past identical, multiple corridors to the pull of a piece of yarn string attached around my finger; squeezing so tightly i thought that perhaps my finger was going to fall off and this thought increasing my speed, faster and faster till i reached the end of the string and their, they took a needle-long and sharp, dripping from it's pointy tip with a unknown liquid and injected it into my ear. at that point i woke up. this dream took place about a week ago and a few days later i noticed swelling in my ear; a discomfort and the inability to stick a ear swab into it. it's swollen shut. do you think maybe a spider bite me in me ear during rem? or is it some sort of infection? comments please.

setting the scene: i'm wearing a pair of jeans, blue t'shirt, and flops; sweeping the falling buds that have covered the ground at the plant nursery i'm working at and singing "i keep working myself back to you babe with a burning love inside".

it was bound to happen sooner or later. the odds were staked dangerously high against me, and yet despite realizing 'the eventual', i couldn't stop myself from singing while i swept. for me, the two go hand in hand like salami on rye, or, ginger on yellow tail sashmi. the thing is-not everyone puts salami on their rye, or, ginger on their sashmi and not everyone likes to sing the golden oldies while they sweep and this void in the majority in return puts my cloest habit in the minority, where in contrast to it's yang, my new co-worker being a member of the hill billy majority, catching me in the act thinks i'm a loon.

if the only knew the half of it. i not only sing while sweeping but while re-stocking the fruit stand, i turn up the spree and do a little dancing.

to die or not to die

to my bewilderment time wasn't extended; grace wasn't allotted; mercy wasn't taken out of the bottle and passed around the table; sisterly love was, and is, temperamental, that is if you believe love doesn't kick you out from underneath the roof from which you call tremporarily lodging with no where to go and no time to get there for ridiculous reasons yet reasons nonetheless. that was saturday. the day i spent feeding distraction to my over-whelming, under-planned jitters. and it worked for the most part. because earlier in the day i spoke with a girlfriend who has a heart the size of the ussr but who is working two jobs and going to school full time with a boyfriend on the side who despite all that opened her arms and her room to me, if only we can arrange a rendevous to move my minimal necessities in, to meet the parents i will for the next month call landlords. it's a frenzy. and the more frenzy i experience the more i realize how dependent i am upon structure and stability. not in the vagueness of the words but in the very resonance of their syllables and vowels; their silence and absence creates a whirlwind of emotions, an allegory: a dresser with all it's drawers hastily and violently pulled out, socks in with the lacy brassiers, lacy brassiers stuffed into the tee shirts and tee shirts wedging the workout clothes drawer; my ebbing clarity. i'm lashing out at someone i should be batting my eye lashes at. but it's him who is receiving my pinned up agnst against my indescribable hatred for this frenzy, while, it's him who has opened up his arms till my other opened arms can find the time to pull me closer. it's him, like her, who is going to school, who is busting his balls working and trying to make up lost time with responsibility at one time he had neglected. i'd like to think under normal circumstances i would emphathize past idealistic understanding to the state of practical understanding-enthusiatic appreciation but i'm beginning to doubt the godspeed of normal back into my life and being diagnosed with a case of transference neurosis. i've never been so concerned with justifying myself. i know this isn't the usual me but why in the hell i care so much that that is seen and explained...i just don't know.

finally on friday afternoon i got ahold of my father. he had a dream that i died in a car wreck with someone else, and that this happened, on a road trip. of course, portland. of course, a horse is a horse, of course, of course- a god dream. some would bless the sky for the divine warning sign. some would throw salt over their shoulder. some might rub a rabbits tale or book a flight instead but in this paragraph i am no some of the some's; i am, skeptic and way too tired of dallas, of texas, of man manipulating his desires to be the almighty's, of being told to trust the almighty, of leaning on the promise of destiny verus ingenuity and admitting-"shit happens" and you alone are responsible for anything else to happen, of the void in aesthetic pleasing terrain of the midwest and the bleak future staying here projects to heed this warning. however i still place great importance on honoring my father and my mother. they have done nothing but earned every ounce of respect and honor i could possibly give so without the blessing of my father, as unfortunate and depressing as it is, i'll stay put.

for now. ;)

otherwise, i'm listening to this on-line station, kexp 90.3, that pretty much is fantastic. thus far i've heard all the favorites, such as: snow patrol, damien rice, radiohead, unkle, and jesus & mary chain plus stuff i've never heard of: ester drang, outhud, lansing-dreiden, and aveo. ohhhh and now, iron and wine. sooooo mellow. sooo nostaglic.

also breaking the headlines of my life, BELLE MIGHT BE COMING BACK SOON. which is bad, very bad, because she has a huge event she has been planning and won't be able to be their for it, not to mention this NEWS is right out of left field like no bodies business and that springing of change, of alterartion is no fun when your livelihood, your hopes and dreams are the foundation of the earth quake. though, truth be told, i'm excited to have her back. a very selfish excitement.

and gordon lightfoot, also known as bryan when in one his queer as folk moods, is definately moving to NYC in less than a month. i think a moon bounce and keg of shiner is in order.

best be off to work.

nut shell

this weekend i went to the deep ellum arts festival. i bought a hand-sown very cool purse from one of the venders and while waiting for the next band to take the stage i heard some ol skool, hip swinging, head bopping, feet tapping, accleration of the blood pumping through the arties of my heart, morressy, making bee lines through the speakers and onto the street filled with corn dog stands neighboring a black and white photographers stand situated adjucant to a herbs and candel stand. it was beautiful. the sun shine. the feeling of community. morressy being played. people walking their dogs. dogs walking their people. though i could have done without the over-whelming come back of aviator sunglasses on every. poser. scenester. walking their dogs drinking beer, sharing the moment with me. i saw the danes and they were great. i left. i came back. saw the tah-blahs and wanted to vomit . then left to go see air by myself and was blown away with the light show and the music but i was tired and unwilling to spend 50million dollars on a beer so i left while the crowd was cheering for an encore and speed back to the festival and caught the later portion of the fatal flying guittons. my socks were effin rocked off. goddddddd everyone reading this needs to make it a priority to see this band. it was a day of music, of moving boxes, of grilled cheese sandwhiches from the allgood with the fab ec, of being mistaken as an austinite-twice, of running into people i hadn't seen in, what seems like ages but in reality is more like a year, and finding out that some are engaged, some are snorting coke, some who are still as witty and funny as i remember them, some who haven't changed a damn bit, and some who have beyond the point of recognition. that was my saturday, in a nut shell.