i love girl best friends, cheap wine, clue, murphy’s, girl best friends, not shaving my legs or arm pits for over a week, girl best friends, aaaand did i mention cheap wine? also my brother’s friend bought me virginia slims as a joke, so that’s good too. seriously, though, girl best friends. for life. all the time.
sometimes my optimism pisses me off. i wake up every single morning wondering what kind of awesome shit is going to happen to me. i’m not kidding— the day after trent and i broke up, i was like surely i’ll get the job of my dreams or proposed to on the street or something today! this bad thing happened, so now i’m just set.
but, like, of course not. bad shit still happens. or, more aptly, nothing still happens.
there is no doubt i am relishing in this. that i wake up with so much more room for me. like i’m growing into myself and finding all these new dimensions. i walk a touch differently and smile more and haven’t given anyone decaf out of anger in like a whole week.
this morning i was turning my lamp off and almost knocked it over. tilted, a penny fell out of the top, hit me on the shoulder, and landed heads side up. well holy shit, i figured this was gonna the best damn day. i slid that fucker right into my boots and went about my day with it sliding from toe to heel and not a remarkable thing happened at all.
right now i’m sitting in my living room, drinking a beer and listening to it rain. earlier i was listening to some howlin’ wolf and realized how cool it can be when a lot of bad things happen and you kinda keep your chin up. like you look it in the face, and you write a song, but you’re still singing and drinking beers and hanging out in bars even though people leave, and you don’t do as well as you hoped, and then someone dies, and then someone else leaves, and there is no guarantee that anything good will happen in between those events. but you’re connected, ya? you’re part of the big, silty river of bad shit that people go through. sometimes delusion and humor and goofy optimism are all ya got.
“The truth of America is understood only when you listen to voices in our impoverished rural enclaves, prisons and the urban slums, when you hear the words of our unemployed, those who have lost their homes or cannot pay their medical bills, our elderly and our children, especially the quarter of the nation’s children who depend on food stamps to eat, and all who are marginalized. There is more reality expressed about the American experience by the debt-burdened young men and women protesting in the parks than by all the chatter of the well-paid pundits and experts that pollutes the airwaves. What kind of nation is it that spends far more to kill enemy combatants and Afghan and Iraqi civilians than it does to help its own citizens who live below the poverty line? What kind of nation is it that permits corporations to hold sick children hostage while their parents frantically bankrupt themselves to save their sons and daughters? What kind of nation is it that tosses its mentally ill onto urban heating grates? What kind of nation is it that abandons its unemployed while it loots its treasury on behalf of speculators? What kind of nation is it that ignores due process to torture and assassinate its own citizens? What kind of nation is it that refuses to halt the destruction of the ecosystem by the fossil fuel industry, dooming our children and our children’s children?”—Chris Hedges (via azspot)
i have spent the whole week angry. i’m mad. it’s the most honest i can be right now, to let myself be embarrassed and cheapened and mad. it hasn’t been a fun week, and the next few might not be a riot either, but i don’t have much else. i’ve got mad ‘til i’m not mad anymore, then we see what’s next.
tonight i had a few drinks with my brother, and we ate a whole fucking bunch of halloween candy. we watched parks and rec for hours. my stomach hurts from laughing so hard. and really? it’s nothing. this is nothing. tonight was nothing. i cancelled my usual wednesday plans to put sweatpants on after work, open a bottle of my favorite cab, and watch tv with my brother. it was nothing, and it’s the best i have felt in a while.
i will claim my nothing and answer to no body about my nothing, though, damn it. i’m settling into it, like slipping toes into wet sand, just slowly working my way into this, whatever this is, whatever is mine and next.
“Don’t let yourself feel worthless: often through life you will really be at your worst when you seem to think best of yourself; and don’t worry about losing your “personality,” as you persist in calling it: at fifteen you had the radiance of early morning, at twenty you will begin to have the melancholy brilliance of the moon, and when you are my age you will give out, as I do, the genial golden warmth of 4 p.m.”—F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise (via thoughtsdetained)
because trent and i have broken up 3 times, meaning i have given you posts like this more than once, i’m gonna keep it kinda brief and just this.
i am and i am not taking it well. today i learned how to ride a motorcycle, found weekend chicago plans, found a motorcycle class, danced and danced at a those darlins show, spent time with friends, smoked a cigar alone while watching the sun set at homer lake, talked to my mom, and still spent the morning and right now just crying and wondering.
last weekend we bought birds together and trent bought deodorant to keep at my place. it seemed fine, and now it is over. there was no fight, really, and i guess that says enough. there just wasn’t any fight. this relationship was never gonna be opportune to leave because it was always gonna be good and solid and comfortable, but it was boring and routine and there was no passion. no fight. and it sucks. it’s so hard to leave. it’s so hard not to be mad at this fucking world because you can love someone, and it just won’t be enough. there won’t be passion, and there won’t be fight. there will be love, but there won’t be future, growth, life. it won’t work or leave the ground. and here i am.
earlier i thought i should thank trent for being able to break up this relationship, to end it because it’s so true it needs to be done because it’ll hold us back and keep us from that long, unpredictable road we both deserve. but after the show, i guess, i’m just glad i get me, the absolute thrill of those darlins shows, three women fronting a stage with arm pit hair. i can learn guitar. and motorcycles. and carpentry and pastry making and painting and get good at spanish and read moby dick and sewing and who the fuck knows what else. it’s not comfortable or dependable anymore, and i don’t like it yet, but the options are exciting.
i’m glad i’m sad. because last time i wasn’t. i was just relieved and on my own, and i crashed so hard there at the end. i just couldn’t do it anymore when i wasn’t happy and busy. here i am, though, small and bruised and sad and yet somehow alive. differently alive. strangely alive.