5:44 PM

A Flipping Page in Time

Time progresses to no dismay and in a breath I find myself turning, grasping for these wasted moments and my inestimable friends. For the most part I realize and can fully accept lives moved on however I do have my intense moments of missing these 'friends' like a child who doesn't want to toss that old toy that she never plays with and has properly grown out of.

Having said that, these past and upcoming weeks prove interesting. An email told me that one of my longest known friends, Marie, was coming to visit me for the night with her boyfriend whom I also know and enjoy. Marie didn't show up which is was about as surprising as a dog barking (she's very unmeditated) . Shortly after my supposed visit with Marie an ex IM'd me with a whole world of Sigfrid and Roy illusions of how much he missed me and a bunny that was really a rat along side a rose imersed of thorns. Oh how those thorns bled me when we were together and the rat no longer looks to me like a cute little bunny. Four days following I'm arranging a trip to Edmonton and discover a multitude of Facebook messages from those that I haven't seen in more than 5 years asking if we can hang out. Some I have arranged and others I just don't have time for. I guess those ones aren't so inestimable. And the last page of my history becoming present was one of my best friends ever asking me if she could visit next weekend for a night of our typical town flipping!

I'm too analytical for my health and wonder what all of this means. Am I going to die?

My time flips and turns creating a surreal place that I wonder if I truly would like to explore.

4:39 PM

Bloody Therapy

And the point of therapy is?

Today I had a special little appointment with a rather special little old lady. When she came out to greet me I thought that she was a patient with her missing teeth, apprehensive ways, and lack of decent clothing. - don't these people get paid enough?! Throughout the appointment I noticed Coleen, as she called herself, trying to compose herself with appropriate posture and linguistics and found that I seemed more the counselor than she. I babbled a lot and received nothing in the end. Of course, I know, baby steps, right?!? Well God damned, I'm glad that I didn't pay for that appointment and I'm beginning to wonder why the Government doesn't offer funds to my friends that hear the same shit- and actually help me out!

So, I've booked another appointment dated two weeks from now. .... what if I were suicidal? I'm sure that one hour of babbling my mind out and two weeks time to stew on the bullshit I didn't even realized bothered me is enough time to map the perfect suicide scheme. Oh how I love art; maybe I will set my 10 second timer to catch that beautifully chaotic image of my naked body in a cold ceramic tub filled not with water but blood thrusting from my small wrists. DeviantArt, here I come! (edit: for those of you who don't get it ... this is a fabrication. I am not suicidal. Is it a pink or blue stick that you have shoved up your behind?)

I know, baby steps, right?!? So rather than go all out with the wrist slashing I baby stepped with a nose piercing. Yes I did it! About three days ago I braved the needle in the nose. I love piercings and even more so getting them myself however the nose is one that I have feared for some time and for good reason. I didn't handle it well. As the blood poured I thought to myself, 'what is that warm feeli..... aw shit, I'm bleeding. Don't think about it, don't think about it'. Then Mr.Piercer considerately informed me 'oh, you are bleeding a little, let me clean that up'. --- NO! Don't tell me! Just clean the damned thing!

Now it doesn't hurt much more than a hard ear zit would unlike my other piercings that didn't hurt at the needle though stung like a mother after the fact. I will never take this thing out of my nose because I will never pierced my nose again!

5:02 PM

Warped Sense

My mind is full of silence as I continue to try to ease the pains of a simply complicated life. Is there something I'm missing? Could this empty box, plainly decorated with "This Side Up", be colored with sounds, shapes, and scents that I do not see? Or do I see too much?

Tonight the walls have moved, bodies before me seem unreal, a word, voice, a sound warps in space and seems so wrong. My head spins, I clutch my stomach catching the bile before it rises to taste then a pile of the floor. Nothing seems real. It's not real. Can't be. Is it?

Can I fake it long enough to feel normal again -- not normal, life as we know it isn't normal -- Can I fake it long enough to feel comfortable like curling up in fresh warm linen, again?

What if one day I never crawl out of this surreal world? How would I live here day to day?

I want to go home. At 27 years old I've never actually discovered a home. I search. I have hope. I believe that someday, somewhere I will feel safe behind the locked doors of home. Uncertain as to weather or not the home I yearn for is a metaphor or not I blindly search, bow and armor in hand. I hope that it isn't something I will find in only the last moments of my sad, surreal life.

What am I? Do others feel this out of place? Unreal? Warped? Is this how my schizophrenic ex pushes through life? Memory tells me a story of a time when my ex described moments that he thought nothing felt real. Is this weirdness a blinking yellow sign with capital letters that spell "YOU ARE FUCKING CRAZY GIRL"?

How do others go about their ugly lives pretending pretty without wondering if a moment or object in their very hands, cold and smooth as it may seem is truly real? Are they ignorant as bliss is derived from? If it is ignorance that darkens view do they chose it and buried inside in a tomb they are able to see what others do?

But it's not real. It can't be. I'll burn my eyes out. There needs to be more. I need more. Something real to cleanse this sickness.

10:25 AM

It's All Synthetic

This is lame. I seldom know how to carry on with a 'first' post in these things. What do I say? Just begin writing about my life, experiences in general? Paint a picture of my previous day/night? or go on about who I am "I love hiking" etc.

I think I will go with the later ... sort of. I'm not going to say that I like hiking (tho I lovit) and reading a good book. Those comments are all and the same... I don't want to write the such anymore than I want to read another uniform profile sporting 'the list'. - I beginning to think that there's a website that offers a cut and paste option for profile pages.

Lame.

so... a little about me.

First and foremost I'm a mother (and I lovit) of a 5 month old however that doesn't mean that I my attire is teeming with baggy old granny clothing. I love to shop! My need to shop is substantial. As a mater a fact, I think, no I know, that I am so obsessed with shopping that it has become an addiction. Every time I go out, do anything, club, family events, dinner, movies, whatever, I need to search out that perfect outfit. It doesn't stop there... I then need shoes (I'm not a shoe-aholic - bags), nails done, hair, a bag, sunglass etc... it's synthetic but makes me feel oh so good.

I also enjoy clubbing to the extreme. Dance baby, dance! I find it fascinating that some people can wend life merrily without music and dancing. Of course, being a mother I'm no longer a 5 night a week club girl... it's more or less once a month. (witch still feels ample to me). When I'm not following routine and a busy schedule with my baby girl, going to a club, reading a good book (Koontz usually) I am out and about enjoying the god damned beautiful world we are fucking up! - I'm going to say it 'hiking', camping and all that jazz. The sky is amazing here where I live. The moon is often a bright orange with radiant stars so I find myself in awe just staring into space. My little escape.

~~~

Just now I woke myself from a place of ecstasy (without the ecstasy) where I danced under that orange moon and tickling stars with my daughter in arms and fucking amazing hard house and trance music playing from some invisible source. ....... someday.





ps. My name is January.