It's been awhile......

I speak to you of shame....
I once was a sweet girl, kind and silently hurting...
now my pain is out....now my pain is alive.
I AM a happy person...but for some strange reason...while with a smile on my face...I still think of suicide...I still picture myself hanging from light poles, bathing in a bath of red water...a bullet threw the head...my car crushed and twisted around an old oak tree....
strange right?

into the pit I do de-send,
while angels sing sad songs to me.....
time only will start to mend,
my souls broken chastity...

I'M FREE!!!

Classes are over, and as far as assignments go, I think I will keep this one running...even though it is no longer a requirement...I like writing here and maybe I will try this forum as a testing group for my stories...hell it's just nice to have an outlet!

BRILLIANT!!!!!

Modern Toilet is a restaurant in Taipei, Taiwan with a modern decor and a full-on toilet theme. All 100 seats in the crowded diner are made from toilet bowls, not chairs. . Sink faucets and gender-coded "WC" signs appear throughout the three-storey facility, one of 12 in an island-wide chain of eateries. Would you like to taste the ice-cream shaped like faeces?
Probably not the best place to bring a child in potty training...

I'm done.

Seriously, I'm too fucking tired and too fucking old to deal with shit like this....I'm out...I'm walking....my mother has been drinking since I can remember, I cleaned up after her, refereed the fights, cooked for her, and even after she would call me a worthless bitch, I would tell her that I loved her and needed her to be there....I will always love my mother, but I can't take care of her anymore...I'm not the best daughter but I have tried my best to do everything I can....when someone is on top of you beating you, your instinct kicks in and yes I have hit my mother, I have hit her and screamed at her, and then when she lies to the cops that she never hit me, when she lies to our family, that she doesn't know why I can't stand to be at home, that she doesn't drink anymore....I keep my mouth shut, I take the responsibility so my mom wont go to jail, I look like the depressed ass so my mother can save face with our family...But I just can't do it anymore...I want out, I want to leave, but I have no car, and no job, I have classes that I have to attend and no other way but to stay....in hell...with mommy dearest...I love her though, she's my mom.

Relief...

A wieght has been lifted and replaced by a lighter one....
feelings of dred and depression are washing away now that your gone...I feel better, I'm sorry if it sounds cruel that I'm happy we have parted, but I am....
Everything is not perfect, but it is better, easier, I wear a smile now that isn't fake...I am me again...

I will always love the image of you that I painted....
Goodbye baby...
Hello world!

The infamous saying of my mother.

My mother is a charecter, a genious, and a riot to know.
She ofcourse has sayings that are all her own, even if she didn't say them first....
Her favorite is "Deny everything, demand proof."
then thiers "follow the money...if you want answers...follow the money."
and advice I get when it comes to life "Marry the millionare, fuck the pool boy."
"You can love a rich man just as much as a poor man." , "If you want to understand men, read an animal behavior book.", " All men are pigs, it's just a variation on the degree from noble hog to sour bacon." and lastly when it comes to love "I will teach you to marry a rich man, then divorce in five years and take all his shit." My mother may sound bitter but she's not...in her life she has married men she loved, and just about every case...it ended in divorce. She made her way in the toughest buisness in the 80's when women were rarely seen in that feild, and gained the repect of her peers. She was a bond broker...and made millions. But when it comes to me, she has always wanted me to be able to take what I wanted in the world with no regretes, to not do it the hard way as she did, but to enjoy every minute. I love her for that, she has reconized in me a quality of caring that often gets me in trouble...and I think she is trying to be extra strong for me. When I was 19 she told me to date a jockey...I'm 5'9, thier hieght average...4'3..."But mom thier short!" a lightning response reaches my ears "Johannah, when they stand on their wallet, thier not that fucking short, are they?"

My mother dated Billy Gibbons from ZZ Top, married Gene Goodwin who's family at one time owned a quarter of down town Memphis, was married to Rick Carns the presdient of the country music writing guild, and dated men that were compelling if not rich....but she was always her own women...see what I enheritted from my mother was not her want for me to be secure in the ways of marriage...but her strength and will power to do it on my own, like she did. I hate spending other peoples money, I like spending my money! and I will make it, I will do something, and I wont have to marry it, they will want to marry me for a meal ticket....but in another famous saying of my mothers..."fuck'em."

well it's funny....to me.

I know it may seem that I only write about the sad and depressing things that often permeate the fabric of my life, but I am what you call a pessimistic-optimist. I am a person who, expects the worst is going to happen, knows how it's going to happen, but prefers not to prepare for it because it's more entertaining when the shit hits the fan and no one has a rag to clean it up.

I am the person who laughs when my house is falling down, when the dog dies, when my relationship fails. Only because I knew it would happen. Only because ( in the famous words of Abraham Lincoln) " If I didn't laugh, I would cry." and I would cry everyday. Don't get me wrong, I will cry as you walk out on me, as I hold the dog in my arms, or as the crane pulls away from the rubble that was once my home...but it will be short, spurty and then I will go into a fit of hysterical laughter.

I geuss I just understand that when it comes down to it, life has its ups and downs...make the downs funny, and you will have less of them.

Question....

Are you superstitious?

I only ask because if you are, then maybe you can help me devise my future because of my birth....

I was conceived between two tumultuous people, both brilliant but insane....Both my parents were top bond brokers, both were terrible alcoholics ( though they both developed the problem at different points in their lives, not together.) My father was a bigamist, married to his first wife then married my mother....His first wife has the same initials as my mother...L.N.They were only married for six weeks. He is now happily married to his third wife...the initials are not the same.

My mother was in a coma at 17 because of a reaction to birth control, they belived she wouldn't be able to have children, She had my sister at 25...My sister was the mirical baby.When my mother was in her late twenties, after my sister was born; when she menstruated, she would bleed out...so her doctor gave her a pill to STOP her period...therefore she shouldn't get pregnant...she had a feeling she was....she went to her doctor, and he didn't believe her...he gave her 13 tests before he accepted she was pregnant with me. She said she prayed for a daughter so that she could name me after her mother who had died four years earlier. She got what she wanted. When she went into labor, two hours later I was in fetal distress, I had to be delivered via C-section and came out doped up and smiling, cord still around my neck...A little time after I was born, my mothers doctor commited suicide.

So...just alittle recap...

Conceived between two insane, business geniuses, one a bigamist, my mother was not supposed to have children, 13 pregnancy test, fetal distress, named after a dead woman( who was a saint and could do anything, I wish I could have met her.), and my mother's doctor commits suicide soon after my birth....


is that an omen?

Slaughter.

I have been around Horses all my life...I started riding when I was four years old, I rode hunter jumpers. My father is a Thoroughbred racing trainer, has been for nearly thirty years, he was a leading rider before that, for fifteen years. Much to my dismay, I haven't been able to afford riding in some years. There is no way I can describe it perfectly to you, something gets lost in translation, no matter how many beautiful words I use. The feeling of being on the back of a sixteen hundred pound animal, capable of running forty miles an hour, and crushing your skull with a single kick to the head. Yet, he doesn't flinch when I put my hand to his velvet skinned nose. His black eyes stare into mine with complete vulnerability, and knowing as I put the bit into his mouth...I snitch the saddle tight and pull the stirrups to the right length for my legs. I grab the reins, put my foot in the stirrup, pull up and throw my other leg over to mount. He doesn't move, just turns his head to look at me...We're off, the long strides, his mane billowing in the flowing air, into a canter, then a gallop, up and over a five foot fence with ease....Like I said, I could never explain it perfectly.

Now, there is a reason for this lengthy rant about how much a treasure these creatures. They are not only a pleasurable hobby, but it is my families livelihood!

The U.S banned the slaughter of horses for human consumption in 2006, but it has not ended it. Mexico and Canada are now the top producers of horse meat, shipping it to Europe, especially France, and Italy...also Japan. "Buyers", go to auctions, or sales and try to buy as many horses as they can. In some cases trainers at the track will sell their losing horse to the buyer for a couple of hundred bucks. Buyers will sell them to "savers" but double or triple the price they brought them for which makes it hard to save them all. They then put them on a trailer and ship them across the border to the slaughter houses, where they are unloaded by the "killers". The horses are disposed of in a number of horrific ways. In some cases they are shot in the head with a whatever gun is around ( shooting practice if you will), or maybe a nail gun...though the horses have very thick skulls, so it may take three or four nails to put them down....In Mexico their favorite method is to herd a horse at a time into a small pen, take a knife and try and cut between the vertebra of the spine, in order to paralyze them...trouble is, the animal is scared, is constantly moving, so they will hack at it...it can take anywhere from ten minutes to an hour to put it out. The killers then "hook" the animal up, by literally taking a large hook and grab onto the leg, drawing the horse up and through the system. If the horse is still alive at this point, they wont be for long, seeing as how the killers have to "bleed" the animal, they cut the throat while the horse is hanging upside down and drain the animal of blood.

We have bought horses from the slaughter house that we turned into perfect show horses, and race horses. They have earned thousands of dollars for the people we have sold them too, or just been pleasure rides for their owners. We have bought the old and the young, foals at just a few days old are indiscriminately slaughtered too.

I am not a vegetarian, I am not apart of P.E.T.A, I think P.E.T.A is ridiculous and purely for those who love to be shocked and outraged, atleast as part of their fashion tip of the day. I believe in the majesty of horses, and the deliciousness of a stake. I would never eat cat or dog, but have heard that guinea pig is particularly nice when grilled in Peru. I have eaten frog, want to try snake, I think alligator taste like chicken, but I would never eat monkey, although I have heard that human meat is addictive. So I can hear the hypocrisy in many of my statements.

I don't expect anyone to understand why I find the slaughter of horses so terrible, but I still hope you might, then maybe we can stop it....completely.

Apparently I'm an endless Dissapointment

I just don't understand what they want...
When I have a job, I work too much and don't focus enough on school...
When I go to school there is just not enough hours, I took 15 and I have to get a job at the same time...wait they say you don't need to work...they want either or, they want both, back and forth all the time...they hate the way I do things, because I don't do it like they would have or have done it.

My mother took 30hrs and had two jobs, and made straight A's. I can't do that...I get burnt out.
My Dad didn't go to college, but he has an opinion on how I should be doing it.

They tell me to get the A's anyway I can, if I'm not making them get out of the class and do it again...so I did, I dropped a class that I was making a C and couldn't get above, now they are yelling at me, saying that they give me advice and I don't follow it so their not going to help anymore....They don't really help, they just advise, stand back, and watch me fuck up...then they yell, and scream and tier me down.

I'm just so tired...of feeling worthless.

The Sisters'

There is a long standing joke in the family, that the Witches of Eastwick were missing one....
There are four sisters in the family, each reminds me of the points on a compass, and the four elements.

My mother Linda reminds me of Earth: Grounded, nourishing,colorful,adapti

ng, she is difficult to traverse but once you have you find an oasis of the heart. She is as strong as stone, but can be as easily pushed as sand through your fingers, long with standing, the foundation of home. She can erupt in anger and you better run for life, but the lava cools quickly and new ground is formed, treed carefully.

My aunt Janet reminds me of Fire: Intense, warm, glowing, she dances like the flame, and is charming to the moths of your mind, fleeting, flighty,constant like the sun, her happy personality calls to your inner child, and is missed when she is not near, like the sun in December. She can burn you when she is angry, but she will caress you soon after.

My aunt Rosalyn reminds me of Wind/Air: Breezy,calm, constantly moving maybe not from place to place but from thought to thought, whimsical, silent yet loud, she can be forceful, she can be coaxing,she has many colors, she is painted, she can be as violent as a tornado and blow you away, and then bring you right back to life with her laughter.

My aunt Norma-Jean (a.k.a Pokey) reminds me of Water: She moves to the currents of her body, as calming as falling rain on a lake at dawn, as terrifying and changing as the sea, she is like a river you never cross but settle near by, her emotions are as cycled as the tides pulled by the moon, the universal solvent, everything goes through her, dissipates, and yet is apart of her.


At one point or another they have to move, going far from and then coming close into one another, like the pulsing of a vein. My aunt Norma-Jean to the North, My aunt Janet to the west, My Mother to the east (really the south east put for the purpose of this descriptive I'm saying east ) My aunt Rosalyn to the south. Now they are moving closer again.

You can feel the energy around them when they are all together, and you just know...the possibilities for the impossible are just able to happen.

They are magic, terrifying, fascinating magic.
You may disagree with it, but you can't dispute it.

I feel it, this verg of knowing my purpose.

I don't believe that everyone in the world was born to purpose, but each person has a chance for it.
I walk a paved path at the moment, but it is winding on to a dirt road unknown. I was born for something, I know something, but it is unknown to me. How confusing to live like this...I'm here, I'm here for something....so close to realizing it. I want it...to make a diffrence, to make a mark. I know it's big, I know it will be universal.

I will not fade into that good night, I will not let myself.
The histosy channel playing the background, reminding me of time.
I want to write a novel that changes the world, but so many story swim in mind, I have to pull them apart...

Not so urgent, urgent care.

I waited nearly three months before my rational brain kicked in, and I had a very good friend usher me to the Memorial Urgent Care Center...I suppose that means it wasn't so urgent, if waited that long.

My throat had been quite the bother, my limp nods swollen, tonsils a massive red blob in the back of my mouth; which intern was putting pressure on an old problem, my left ear.

I was never really sick as a child. I had ear infections as a kid, but that was the only thing that ever was a medical constant. I never was bed ridden, had chicken pox and mumps at the same the time when I was a baby. I guess I was never sick for three very good reasons. One: I was too busy getting bruised. Two: I was busy eating. Three: I was asleep for a very large portion of my childhood.
Now I am distressed, why; if at anytime I had to be either one, couldn't I have been a sickly child and a healthy adult, rather than the reverse?
I now have a multitude of medical ailments, without proper diagnoses because I haven't the money or medical insurance ( which is a complete pain in the ass, and totally unfair...but I will wait another day to rant about that!) to see a doctor.

Walking into the cliche florescent lit, pale painted office; I went straight to the front desk and filled out a yellow paper form, asking the usual questions of date, age,SSN, and problem...being asked any question was a thoroughly embarrassing and painful process...you see, I couldn't swallow so I had to spit the constant accumulation of saliva out of my mouth in order to speak, and being a lady...I hate spitting, but the ordeal of swallowing was just too much pain throughout the day. In the case of the clinic I was just forced to bare it (without the grin, though lord knows I tried) I then waited for three hours to be seen by a nurse, who then ask me more questions.

I was told to sit and wait again. As I read Lolita by Nabokov, I was becoming worried, a sound started to infiltrate my thoughts, a curious crunching sound...A slight panic that my pain might have made me delusional, I then looked to my left...A very large black lady with a white shirt. speackled with flowers and pink jeans was munching on a cup of ice, as if it were to be her last meal. I quickly got up and moved, I didn't really care that she gave me a dirty look because I was already cursing her to an early grave.

Again my name was murderously called over the crowd and I was soon ushered to a back room. "So how are we feeling?" said the male nurse...you have got to be kidding, a series of slick remarks filled my mind, but seeing how speaking was just not my thing today, I settled for a short sarcastic response "Peachy." I sat on the bed offered and watch t.v for nearly half an hours time before the doctor finally came to see me.

What a bitch, she was condesending, rude, and above all very quick...She asked me what was wrong, and I told her, she told me everyone was ill and I probably had what they did. I understand that she may see nearly a hundred people a day, but I only she her...diagnose me, not everyone...thanks. Then this rude woman crammed a tongue depresser in my mouth and I began to cry...it fucking hurt! she said something I didn't hear, then told me a nurse would be in to give me a pain killer and antibiotics,gave me a blanket, turned and left...I gave her the finger as I wipped away my salty tears.

Now I don't know why or how, but bigits tend to show up in the most retared of places. This white guy in a baseball cap, who came in right behind me, laid on the bed diagonal from mine ( you could tell he was white trash)...I remember his name was Mildred (so help me God that was his name!) there was a spanish women opposite him with her daughter...granted it's kind of rude to answer your phone loudly in a clinic, but it's even more rude to bitch at the person for it,tell her you are too sick to listen to and I quot" A hispanic bitch on a goddanm phone!", and then proceed to threaten to have her ass kicked in the parking lot by making one simple phone call, but then ( and I nearly jumped off my bed a through open the curtain to yell at this guy when he said this:) "your mess'n with an American!" Are you fucking serious! but the woman was simplely prefect in her response"And what the hell do you think I am?! I AM AN AMERICAN!"

The nurse came in another half and hour latter, a very sweet dark haired women, with glasses, and a grandmotherly kind smile. Two very large needles in hand. Oh Jesus...she patted her hind end with a "yep that's where their going." kind of nod and I turned around and this time cried out of embaressment.
The pain killer came first, which caused more pain, and then the big gulp sized anitbiotic...good lord I hated my life at that moment. She patted me on the back and cooed over me as I laid back down in a fetal quit sob on the bed once more. Rocking from the pain I couldn't seem to make my muscles stop moving, but for a short time I fell asleep, and then woke again to sob some more. I had a bit of intuition (though I admit I really got up to walk out, thinking thats what I was supossed to do.) and began to put my sweater on then my shoes, got up from the bed and the nurse came in right then, alittle surpized. With Rx and pamfletes in hand, she told me what I really had (the bitchy Doctor told me to my face that she thought it was my annual flare up of strep...I knew it wasn't!) ready for it guys!? Ok...it's called a...Peritonsillar Abscess. Basically; and I'm sorry if you are eating, but my tonsil is a great big puss ball, which was caused by bacteria beign trapped by my new wisdom teeth that have been comeing in...guess now what I have to do...get them removed, and maybe my tonsils too!

I guess if you have to go into major debt (which I am already) it should be over medical bills rather than a car.

O Jesus...

Worry...
just too damn much of it.
I am supposed to be getting married...he proposed, and I accepted...my parents don't know...well my father knows but not my mom and dad...( I have a biological father and a dad, I know it's confusing.)

I went to New York for spring break, absolutely amazing! A city that truly felt like home the second I got off the plane.

I'm am not one to boast, I am actually a person with very low self esteem, but as of late I have been coming into my own, realizing I am somewhat attractive...but most importantly smart.
The thing is, I have so many things available to me that I can do...so many adventures that my age and looks afford me...I want to experience them, and I'm deathly afraid of making a poor decision...and I think I have made a premature one in getting engaged so soon.

I love him, he is actually my first love...but my greatest fear is not dieing...but not living! I don't want to fade away...I want to leave a mark, be remembered, make an impression on the world other then a carbon footprint. I want to be recognized...I have something to say...something in me that the world has to know...I feel it, I felt it since I was a child...I just don't know what it is...

there are so many things that complicate the puzzle that is my relationship. He is a broken person and by nature I try and fix broken people...I am afraid to every leave him even when I must because I am afraid that I am responsible for him....stupid as it is, I know that it's wrong but I can't help to feell at fault for what he might do to himslef in my apsents...this is were you say "run for life girl!" and my response is "I know, but I can't" with a heavy sigh " I love him."

lazy b-day...

today was my birthday, it was really really nice...this year I stayed home....my mother is leaving town tomorrow, and she wont be here for my dads birthday on thrusday so he and I are celebrating it together...I thoroughly believe that my dad will require a nanny while my mother is out of town.

I am really happy though...

Poetry...

I think it's sad that people no longer read poetry...I hear that people write it...but what about the poets of the past...at one time it was a luxury to be able to read of their work.

They were poor in their pockets, but rich in words.

My favorite poets are
Yeats, Poe, Donne, Field, and Frost...there are many more...I like some of Dickens too.

With poetry there can be millions of interpretations on the words, sometimes with just the tone you read it in you can change the meaning...then there are others that paint it as it is.

Cool words run over your skin, hot words melt your heart..lovely like silk...words

Nightmares...

It is a recent development, these nightmares...they were random at first and now they have become weekly occurrences, dreams so real...so random...so jarring.

I can't remember some and some I can't forget...no matter how hard I try.
In some cases I end up hurting myself when I am within their grip.

A few nights ago I had a dream where I was being hunted by a group of panthers ( my favorite animal) trying to beat them back with a large stick and then chases up a tree...

then there was the dream I had about a large wasp coming out of a window I broke and landing on my forehead...I had a small seizure, I ended up cutting my face with my nail, and burning my knee on my carpet when I jumped out of the bed and skidded across the floor beating myself in the head to get it off.

here's another good one
The dream setting was in England in a small town...
I lived in a house with many other people...Like a hotel that had been converted into a community home....The strange part is that the town had a tradition to have a parade every evening and one man would carry a lions arm, I was a new comer with my family...and apparently they had a lion problem a long time ago...they where hunted by the creatures, one of the towns people had killed the last one and this was the evening tradition in his honor...

They were wrong...the last ones were not killed and that very night we where hunted in the home by the hungery animals...I went into every room looking for the beasts and had seen one or two...my brother was killed and so were some of my friends...and then..I bumped into the big male...he was perched on a shelf of some sort and began to make his way down it...staring at me....he lurched forward....and I woke up.



The most disturbing one was awhile ago....almost a year and I still recall it, every last detail.
I was going to a church, A large cathedral...there was a priest dressed in all white robes greeting people at the door, the normal progression of the crowd...he had a short black beard and green eyes...As I walked up to him and held out my hand to shake his...I was just about to say hello when he grabbed me up by my rib cage and flew away with me, he growled low and his eyes glowed...I tried to pray, but I couldn't breath...I tried to scream but I couldn't breath....I tried to pull away, but the harder I tried, the harder he dug his nails in me and the louder and angrier he growled...I was confused, I didn't know if he was the devil or if he was trying to exercise me, I was unsure if it was the reason it was so hard for me to try and pray...was it because I was unworthy to pray? I began to slip away...I saw a light in the center of his chest...his eyes burning into me and my fear reaching its peek...I was going to die...I whispered into his chest and said "Jesus...."I screamed "Christ!" I shot up in bed and tried to cry but I couldn't, I still couldn't breath...I rolled over in the dark and pried, I said my Hail Mary's till I finally started to cry.

I am not a terribly religious person...but in my own way I am...
This didn't spur me into going to church every sunday, but it sure as hell scared the shit out of me!

I know that you CAN die in a dream...but your mind wakes you before that point...if you have ever had a dream where you were falling...notice you always wake up before you hit the ground.
It is your mind flipping the on switch because shit got to real in your head.


I want to know why this is happening to me now...my dreams have always been strange but they have never been terrifying...they have been about flying, adventures, hell I even had a dream where I was smoking weed with a big black wolf like dog...but I never woke up crying, screaming, or unable to breath! tell me why in the last year they have become dark like this? Why in the last few months they have become so frequent...I am truly concerned!

What do you see?

Sitting uncomfortably in a metal chair waiting for the arrival of my mother,
I watched the crowds of afternoon students walk to their cars, leaving the school for the day; whereas, the evening students began to file in. I am 1 in 1,000, you are 1 in 1,000...who do I see? Looking is not the same as seeing. You can look at many things, and never see them. Look at a man, but see your lover. Look at a woman but see your mother. Look at a child, but see yourself.

Depending on what you feel, depending on what type of person you are, can affect what you see in others.

It's funny, when you are out of love...how many relationship you recognize around you....seems like everyone has someone, when you are alone.

But then again it just goes to show how things relate from one individual to another....what I perceive can and is wildly different from what you perceive.

Perceptions are merely that...perceptions.

So how can I make assumptions on appearance...the one thing mother told me not to do.
"Never judge a book by it's cover!" well here I go trying to do just that.

I see one man...he is older...must be in his seventies...waiting patiently for the change over in buses...he is a black man...dressed in a tweed suite, a red bowtie, and a bowler hat...the cuff of his pants pulled up showing the dark brown socks and shinned shoes...What did this man see in his life time? His age will tell some tale of wear in the history of men. The cival rights movement...most likely he would have seen just about everything from the depression to the vietnam war...Knowledge untapped by others, this man would tell you secretes if only you asked for his story, what a story that might be...he could have been in the room where Robert Kennedy was shot, or at the opening of the cotton club, He could tell you exactly where he was when the speech "I have a dream" was spoken, and how Martain Luther King affected his life, he could tell you how it felt to shake his hand...the pain from loosing a son...and most likely a wife...but yet he holds in his hand a small set of keys...looks like a small key chain...a picture....his grandchildren...maybe he is on his way to see them.....why would they make him take the bus? A surprise....a daily commute? The wrinkles in his face...show so many smiles...he is a happy man, or was a happy man. His hands are worn from years of work...I see calouses on the tips of his fingers...he plays guitar or bass...a musican. A pin on his lapel...Mets...A New Yorker...The bus finally comes, and with the dignaty only aged men pocess, he boards the bus. A wink in my direction....He noticed I was watching him.

25 random things...

1. I am way to forgiving, and easily forgive...but am unwilling to change that characteristic of my personality. I consider it one of the many things that make me a good person (a good target too...but at least I'm aware.)

2. I can't write a story for more then two pages, I constantly re-read and then re-write the same two pages until I throw it away in a tantrum.

3. I have a penchants for the dramatics, but at the time of the drama I am unaware of it.

4. I do believe in true love.

5. I wish I knew who and what my grandmother was like...if maybe...I was a little like her.

6. I'm a sucker for a guy in a suite...or uniform.

7. I will never turn my back on you...I will never pull my ear from you...if you need me I will be there no matter what, family, friend, or a person I just met.

8. I will procrastinate my own funeral.

9. I love money...MY MONEY! and I spend it on anyone other then myself first...then I will spend it on me. Don't get me twisted...I'm not a gold digger and I don't put my faith in cold hard cash...too fleeting...but I love to have it, and spend it just as quickly.

10. I want to write a novel...many novels.

11. I want a secret library in my home, of cherry wood, and filled top to bottom with hundreds of books...with a fireplace and a comfy leather chair, so that when it rains, snows, or whenever I come home from work I can take a cup of hot tea, a cashmere blanket,and a good book and read until the sun comes up.

12. I see everything in life as photographs, paintings, and sketches in my life, and hear songs and music that make it move and describe it in every way...I prefer life without dialogue, just lyrics.

13. I am a people person...but HATE humanity...and hate serving or making you food! when will people learn not to piss off the people that can screw with their food!

14. I am the worst speller...and in some cases even spell check can not decipher what it is I am trying to spell!

15. I have a very strange perception on religion and religious people...I do believe in God...but to get in a conversation with me about it...I will challenge everything you believe and watch you stand and studder...you will either be converted (unintentionally) or your head may explode.

16.I stay fit by dancing in my room at two in the morning like a retarded string bean, I sleep as much as possible, and eat A LOT! (surprisingly though, what I eat when I eat it...is usually very healthy! OH AND I LOVE MILK!!!)

17. I am TERRIFIED OF ZOMBIES! I have nightmares about them, and I took a survey once that said I had a 95% chance of living through a zombie invasion but I would most likely die going back to save someone...nice right...but I don't want to be a zombie...so pick up your shoes and learn to run BECAUSE I AM NOT STICK'N AROUND!

18. I love my family...and miss my grandfather A LOT! I hope I can get to see him really soon...6 years is way to long.

19. Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I see my mother looking back...those are the moments when I feel beautiful.

20. I have low self-esteem, and high expectations.

21. I miss my sister, and my nieces....POOTER PANTS!

22. I hate Disney world....don't ask...if you want the story, bring a lunch...you'll need it.

23. 23...BIG DEAL!!!! this number is EVERYWHERE! and I love it! 2-3-5 my lucky numbers.

24. I wish my parents knew how much I respect and treasure them, I wish I knew how to show them...I would love for them to feel it...instead of hope-ing they excepted it.

25. I just want to have life be solid under my feet for awhile...instead of walking on a tight rope not seeing the safety net beneath you...I would like to be walking on the ground and have everything go my way for awhile...I'm just so tiered of wishing and doing without any idea where or when my work will pay off...and does anyone notice that I'm working hard..just to stay sane and happy for just few moments?

My Angel

One day you'll meet her...she is my everything!I will know her till the sun shines no more.Her pale eyes scanned the drab room for some-thing to ignite a fanciful day dream.The class drawing out every bit of boredom to a new high. Oh, to be high, to be floating in reality above all the hopeless and helpless others stuck in this stale, florecently lit box.She taps her foot lightly to the melody playing in her head from this mornings radio tunes, as her mind turns over the countless stories and flashing pictures of old memories...some she wishes to forget and some she wishes to live again.Her breathing is low and quit..periodically she sighs,at the thought of the perfect love,one night stand, or long cuddle and sleeping peacefully in the arms of someone deeply cherished...nameless and faceless in her daydreams. This beautiful creature pulled for a world of paint and glitter, magic and fairytales,and dropped into the the stale, brass, and callous world of hypocrites and carelessness;she has to daydream or she would be lost in deep depression,already clouding most of her nights and days( and thoroughly irritating her.) She takes her pencil and taps it on the desk, making it known to everyone else she's heard this stupid speech before,and does not need to hear it again.So she begins to ignore the dictator in front of the class (who couldn't teach a dog to bark anyway.)and starts drawing her dreams...making them more tangible...easier to really feel and see.Her pictures and memories of the magic she once knew has begun to fog and this saddens her even more. As she draws she wonders what the hell people see in her that they constantly call beautiful...she can't see what they see, feel what they feel, comprehend it all. She's just ordinary..right? No,she's perfect, in a way almost divine.She radiates it whether she sees it or not.She holds a ray of innocence, a hidden purity brought out by her sparkling blue eyes...her eyes..so beautiful...so captivating, drowning you in loveliness, in hope, in sorrow, and pure beauty...and her smile, saving you with one innocent smirk. She seems to just say without words "everything will be okay." She rests her cheek on her hand and her eyelids begin to fall,they get heavier and heavier with each passing second of monotouse jabber. She crosses her legs and rests her other hand between her thighs then sleepily she runs her finger over the foe-wood pattern of the desk and begins to find pictures and funny shapes inside...scratches of some moron wanting everyone to know he was "here"..oh yeah great place to be. She continues to draw the endless flood of pictures that invade her mind,all of which are perfect and beautiful. She wishes you to think her the picture of a little devil, but her drawings give her away;not once has she drawn anything malicious, cruel, diseased, or deadly...they have been wistful,magical,and soft. She is the embodiment of an earthly angel, her milky white skin and rusty red hair the color of mars,and her blue eyes as deep and mysterious as the ocean.She calmly waits for the bell to ring and deliver her to a more inviting environment of her fashion class...somewhere where she can control the things around her, gliding over the other students,giving them much needed,creative advice.She quickly picks up her books..giving one last glare to the old fart picking threw his plants,and leaves the room.Haphazardly walking into tall freshmen, but still retaining the air of dignity she was born with that make them cringe to a more preferred cowring position. That's my Queen of hearts, that's my angel...That's my darling.this is dedicated to my loving friend <333Kris<333

The Poetry of an Unfathomable Mind

I feel like just yammering on...about nothing, something...and in these times of unyielding thoughts that seem insane, amazing epiphanies can be found....the profound...endless streams of thought, rarely flowing seamlessly into one another...instead weaving a tapestry of beauty not seen by even the keenest of eyes and then as quickly as it was woven, it fades into the void never to be seen again...sadness forms as the thought of such fleeting pulchritudinous.Love can be so confusing, taking the mind on a ride close to what you see on an acid trip except instead of your mind seeing things, sensing things, it's your heart...as if your heart takes on a mind of its own....and though you try to explain what you know is right about what is going on with you and this other person...(weather it is right or wrong, good or bad {usually bad}) a smile or look from the object of your affection will completely erase all the hard worked explanations your brain went through...it is amazing how the most undeserving of your attentions seem to get the most of your attention.To make a woman smile in her eyes is such a difficult thing to accomplish, we can lie with our smiles and even our body language, bur our eyes never lie, and to smile with your eyes is true happiness.my foots asleepadvice for men on the pick up of women...guys tend to put their foot in their mouth more often then not when trying to pick up women....so to go around that problem...instead of walking up to a girl when chances are your not wanted, send the girl a drink...AND THEN STAY WHERE YOU ARE! do not and i repeat do not go over with the drink...send the drink over, smirk and then turn your attentions elsewhere....more often then not you have just started her mind moving in the direction of mystery...women, though some wont admit it, love mystery, and hate to be ignored...if you send a drink to a girl, smirk at her then ignore her she will be immediately interested in why you would do such a thing....once you have her in a conversation that she will most likely start, keep it simple, don't start running your mouth about yourself, ask her about herself more often, keep the mystery of who you are going, let her in on somethings but when it comes to you quickly change the subject...it will keep her interested longer....now a good salesmen will tell you...that in any sale you have about 30 minutes with a potential mark to sell the product...anymore then that, you fucked your sale...with women you have a varied window of about 15 minutes to (if your lucky) and hour. Watch her....during the conversation if her body language says anything like she's looking for her friends, the bathroom, anything...GET OUT QUICK...turn to her and say..."I'm going to get another drink at the bar, of you'd like to join me that would be nice, if not, it was nice to meet you." then walk away...the point of the matter is to end it before she gets the chance too.need more music...there...Religion is such a silly thing...it's not all bad...but for the most part it is....I don't think the devil is a bad guy, which most of you know, more like a business partner....but I am not liked by Christians at all for the very reason that I reason rather then pray...I'm not sorry to say that yes although praying will calm you down if something bad has happened or your in situation that is not exactly great...it wont fix the problem...you have to deliver yourself...it is sad that when you have accomplished something you contribute it to something unseen, the philosophy of a guiding hand...again weather good or bad..."the devil made me do it." " I'd like to thank Jesus for this award.". We do not like responsibility, and through out life must have a parenting figure...God being the ultimate Father figure...constantly away on business. I am not saying that I am without faith, that I do not pray at one time or another, that I don't hope to go to heaven when I die, that I don't hope that there is more then just what I see...what I am saying is that I don't have faith in YOUR God, everyone should have their own ideas about what they should believe and leave the rest of us to ours....I am not kidding, the last time I went to a Christian church I blurted out as I walked in the door "I feel like I'm about to burst into flames." because though the people were welcoming the ideas turned my stomach....what bothers me is that the christian God is so cold, yet he is adored for his mercy...what mercy? I ask you what happened to Adam, Eve, Jobe, His only son, Samuel, Sodom and Gamora, so many stories of pain and sacrifice to constantly prove your worthiness...I tell you, it just doesn't make sense, you silly religious people...you can still be rational, thoughtful, and be spiritual...take a stab at it...think, ask...In the bible God says word for word..."Question me" but I ask you rather then question him, question religion...is it truly satisfying your mind and heart in EVERY way?Drugs...oh how nice they can be, and how cruel they can turn on you....for me it was a very different experience with them then I had heard from anyone else...I would get sick once it started to become habitual....for instance weed gives me panic attacks now, but at one time I was a lovely stonner....coke, now that white pony makes me a very depressing person...I once had a friend ask me for some because they wanted to trip in a sense...trouble is it doesn't make reality different, it just makes you move through it quicker...I get so emotional and talkative I want to shoot myself in the face with how annoying I get...Zanax on the other hand had always been a true friend of mine...lovely little pill, trouble is I got in trouble with them and ended up forgetting about them...strange...but I have had them recently...weird thing is I never had them with alcohol before and I never will again...straight black out....not a fan.To make love is something I am just learning to do...it was the same with everyone for such a very long time....either my self-conciousness, or the fact that I was merely with the person out of sympathy, or I would trick myself into liking them...so the longer I stayed the more I felt I should love them or have sex with them...that maybe sex would help me to feel for them...sad huh....It is very difficult to separate myself my body and actually feel pleasure....at one time, all the lights had to be off and there had to be music on, if the guy said anything I was que to moan, I had to be the best he ever had, ever would have, and could never find again...I have to still be the best at everything involved when it comes to relationships and especially sex....but now it doesn't bother me as much to have the lights on. My sister told me something once...."Fucking is great and to cum is better, but there is no better orgasm then the one you have with someone you love." I no longer have a problem of loving someone...my only problem is disconnecting, is to be selfish a little while making love....instead of needing to be the best for him, take the best from him...there will probably be no better sight that he will see then me in the grasp of a true frenzy....and in that hopefully we will cum at the same time, and it will be as they say, you are one being, for one tenth of an inconceivable second.It's funny how assorted subjects can effect your grammar as well as your vocabulary...look at the beginning of this rant and see the anomalies...it's almost if another person wrote various portions.well I'm tired now.. so I shall leave you to ponder, when you wonder threw the incongruous valleys of my mind.

From a broken heart

My Love,

What is there to say that has not been said?
What is left to do, that has not been done?
Where to begin?

So much to say, and yet it's difficult to find the words...I wonder if you understand where you've left me, the position I mean...what am I to do next? Sifting through tones of lies, trying to find minute traces of truth; who, and what to believe my hardest questions to answer. It would be more then stupid to believe one word that comes out of your mouth, and yet I want so much to believe you are the man I thought you were and would tell me the truth.

I don't care if it was Holly, Christina, Lauren, or Kattie ( yes, I even know about that.) It doesn't matter if you've cheated on me, with everything else you've done that is just the icing on the cake. But I have to know, how much risk has my trust in you put me? Did it turn you on when you laid me down, that my love for you was so much that you could do whatever you wanted? Did it get you off, putting my life in danger? Marriage by disease, making sure I could never leave you...Where you proud that you could lie to me and get away with it? These are only 1% of the questions I want to ask you, and yet I expect to never get the truth. I would hope that you would be a man and own up to what you've done, but I haven't seen that quality of honesty come from you. Is it shame in not wanting to admit what you are truly capable of, or is it that you are trying to save yourself from feeling guilt? I think it's that you are ultimately afraid of being alone, and all the apologizes are just to keep me...not me as someone you love, but just a person to share your misery.

I'm not proud of how I handled the situation, and I own up to acting the way I did; but I'm not sorry I hit you...I just wish I didn't hit you then. In my heart I really wanted to get you to B.A.R.C, but my head reminds me that you really didn't want to go. Watching you slump to grown after you finished smoking crack and then haphazardly grabbing at your cigarettes, fumbling as you put it to your lips...Remembering every lie you told me, I wanted you to feel it...Every twist of pain in the shattered pieces of my heart! looking at the person who held all my hopes and dream in their incapable hands, high and uncaring of even the faintest emotion I felt, sprawled out on the ground in the dirt, by the trash cans, made me ill...The disgust rising in my throat...I lost control...( and then so did you, didn't expect the hit back...)

I have heard so much in the past couple of days, about who you really are, and what you truly feel, about me, about your recovery. I am left with an arduous task of sorting through bits and pieces of truth and lies...like a bomb tech sifting through debris trying to find survivors...

I don't regret being with you, I don't hate you, and in spite of all that you've done I love you now as much I did when we first began...when the fantasy was reality. But this is where we end, to save my sanity, I must sacrifice my heart. I want nothing but the best for you...to be happy, healthy and successful, but I can't stand by you any longer. Think of me as a ghost, a memory of better times.

This is my closure, this is my pain laid out on white sheets and black ink...this is goodbye.


With all the love that remains,
Joshephine