stingy.

dear world, in particular, austrailia and the left coast of the US:

i do not want to share shane blay with you. i want to be selfish and keep him here so i can hold him and laugh with him and make stupid faces at him and sometimes annoy him. i don't want him to leave. i try not to think about it, but sometimes, the thoughts creep in. it's bad enough having your lover gone, but your best friend, too? it's a double whammy. one of the worst-very-worst parts is, after he's been gone about a week, i can't smell him anymore. not on my pillow. not in my hair. not on my clothes. not on my skin. honest to goodness, i will cry about a week in, when i realize nothing smells like him anymore.

i do not want shane blay to leave. i don't i don't i don't. i want to be selfish with him and keep him here all to myself. alas...

he's got too much beauty to share with the world. much too much. so i'll send him off with a smile and high hopes for good things for him. please take care of him, world. treat him right, feed him well, keep him safe. listen to his voice and bask in the creativity and beauty his heart is sharing with you. buy some merch. say a kind word to him. don't steal his gear (fuck you, connecticut). be thankful for his parents, who are the reason he's out there, world, sharing his gifts with you. help me share him by telling others about the soul-moving music he writes. send him back to me quick and all in one piece.

don't say a word just come over, and lie here with me.
cause i'm just about to set fire to everything i see.
i want you so bad i'll go back on the things i believe.
there, i just said it, i'm scared you'll forget about me.

good riddance.

all i can say is this: i know a lot of good people. a lot of good people love me.

my mom is my hero, always taking the bullet for me, always finding a seemingly impossible way to make things right.

my family refuses to let me fall, even if it means they fall in my place, even if means they make sacrifices simply so i can stand.

my friends take hold of my arms when i start to stumble, and sometimes stumble with me just so i won't be alone in it.

my shane, you pick me up and carry me upstairs when i'm sitting in a heap of mess without direction or confidence or understanding or logic. you wrap me up in your arms and just let me be, whatever i am, wherever i am, and you love me as i am. you're my protector, my best friend, my love.

this is all i need in life. i'm ready to dig my heels in now.

in the great words of peter griffin.

you know what really grinds my gears? usually something i see on facebook. it's been a two-for-one week for that. i'll start with today's.

newsflash: we are all part of the human race. by default, this means we all experience pain and trauma. each and every one of us. nobody is immune to daddy issues, relationship baggage or undeserved ill treatment. everyone experiences it. what grinds my gears is when people waste time feeling sorry for themselves about it. or wallow publicly about their pain to try and get attention. firstly, it's a tad tacky to wallow publicy. secondly, attention won't fix your issues. you're just wasting your time and mine. you are not special because of your pain. in fact, pain is the one universal thing on the planet. in my humble opinion, you can be aware of your pain and use it to grow stronger, be more thoughtful, even when you don't understand it, or you can use it as an excuse to make poor decisions and hurt others. i don't have much respect for people who use it as an excuse. it hurts, all of us hurt; there's nothing that makes your hurt so insurmountable that you are unique and special. pain is all the same.

in addition: i'm so tired of the false confidence social networking lends people who are actually cowards in real life. i got a nasty facebook message from somebody yesterday who doesn't even know me. who i've had one facebook interaction with. the things that were said, would never be said to my face, i'm certain of that. it's just incredible to me the things that people will do or say via the internet, or through a text message. the internet is cool, but i think it's broken human interaction and communication. people rely too heavily on it, use it to ego boost and have learned to communicate in a way they wouldn't ever in person. it's sad more than anything else.

that's enough grinding of gears for today. it's raining and it smells lovely outside. kìyevame.

an open letter.

i started writing a very angry, heavily coded blog post / letter to three females who have in some way been a very negative part of my life lately, but then decided, nahhhh. they aren't worth it. instead i'll make very brief, honest points about each of them.

5) virgil's teeth: you talk about yourself wayyyyy too much.

3) sorrow sucker: you give off a very distinct vibe of being a band slut.

2) captain oats: thank you for breaking his heart so that i could be the one to put it back together, hold it close and keep it safe.

that's all. :)

ps - i love him. every bit of him. from head to toe.

we all have a sickness.

i sincerely wish i had less melancholy things to write about. unfortunately, it just wouldn't be true, for me, if it wasn't melancholy.

i want the opposite of melancholy. but you won't seem to let us have it.

story of my life.

dangerously complex inner workings.

to the male half of humanity:

I AM A GIRL. I LIKE TO BE GIRLY TO A LIMITED EXTENT. THIS DOES NOT MAKE ME HIGH MAINTENANCE OR CRAZY.

what this means to me specifically:

-i like dates, i like to go on them. fast food doesn't count. neither does me paying. it's preferable if you think of what to do, rather than have me plan it for you.
-i like flowers, yes, flowers. it's why i have them tattooed on my fucking arm. no you don't have to buy a dozen roses. just pick a freaking dandelion and watch me smile.
-i much prefer you telling me i'm pretty over hearing you tell other girls they are.
-if you are away from me, i want you to have a good time, but i do not want to hear how you don't miss me or don't think of me; i'd like to know you miss me. lie if you have to.
-i appreciate good time management skills. maybe this isn't girly, this has more to do with my OCD nature.
-i enjoy "the notebook" style kisses. it shows you've got confidence, balls. confident balls.
-i want to know chivalry is not dead. please show me that. i don't need you to baby me or take care of me. i work, i pay my own bills, i can fix certain aspects of my own car. i am self sufficient; this does not mean i don't need chivalry from time to time. learn to be a modern day knight.

i don't think any of this is too difficult, is it too difficult? am i difficult? i must be difficult. clearly, i am difficult.

the scarlet letter.

"it's hard, but you know it's worth the fight
cause you know you've got the truth on your side
when the accusations fly, hold tight
and don't be afraid of what they'll say
who cares what cowards think anyway
they will understand one day, one day."

this is from a song in a movie, a movie i've loved for years and years, but is a little bit tainted for me now, because the lead role looks just like somebody i don't ever want popping up in my head (or yours). either way, these lyrics, i've had posted by my computer at work for months. they are oddly relevant to where i'm at in life right now.

i made a choice. a well informed, well thought out, long awaited choice. and for one reason or another, that choice seems to be up for public conversation and judgement. some don't care at all, some come up with theories or opinions out of thin air, and very few know the full on honest truth and stand by me and my choice. the point is, it was my experience. mine only. i know and cling to the truth, and that's why i couldn't give two shits about what people say or think, why i won't let that determine how or when i live my life. because i know my heart, and worked so hard at making the right choice, i'm confident in where i'm at and what i'm doing now. it's more than irksome to hear about people talking about my choice, my experience, when really, they have no information or grounds to speak on. but people always need a little entertainment, yes?

it's cheesy, but the truth really will set you free. i have the truth. and i don't have to share it or broadcast it or defend myself to anybody, it's plain and simple: i am not afraid because i make good decisions based on the truth. so talk. theorize. speak of the should haves and would haves. let assumptions and rumors dictate what you think or what your actions are. keep pinning that A on my chest. keep holding back because of fear and fear alone. i am sure and steady because i have the truth. unshakeable. unwavering.

steady now, steady now.

six and twenty.

i don't anticipate giving too much of myself away on this. that's risky. stay guarded, that's the message life is trying desperately to teach me right now. and so, i will try, here especially.

i am weary. weary weary. dream of laying in bed for days on end without getting up weary. if you know me well, you know this has been the most difficult year of my life. i don't let that show very often, to very many. part of that practicing being guarded thing. it's been a year for massive, intentional, necessary change. a year for redefinition and rediscovery. it's amazing how much all of that can wear you plum out, and open your eyes to lots along the way.

this year has taught me a lot about communication. human interaction. how the simplest word, smile or gesture can make or break your day. how one act of selflessness or selfishness can make you see a person in an entirely different light. how fragile human beings really are. how you just don't know what people are carrying around with them, the pain and suffering, the brokenness and fear.

i don't know that there's a point to this. it's simply an observation. probably because for years and years, people have told me how strong i am, what a warrior i am in this thing called life. and i'm starting to realize i don't feel strong, i don't feel like a warrior. a dear friend once told me that i reminded her of a roman warrior, on the front lines, with spikes in the bottom of my sandals so i could literally dig in and fight the enemy. i want to see myself as that, but there are just far too many cracks at this point to call myself a roman warrior anymore.