Parking Lot

There was a Christmas when I was a sad girl when most of the gifts I got were hygiene products--lotion, body wash, some make up, scrub luffas--when what I really wanted was Pokemon cards and buildable Zoid models. I just got back from happily spending $50 at Wal-Mart on Q-Tips and hair mousse. Talk about irony. :p

I'm trying to decide what I really want out of life. Sadly, I haven't lived enough to want anything.

After moving out of the dorm at the end of last semester, I vowed NEVER to suffer three flights of stairs carrying unnessessary boxes ever again. Three tubs, laptop, a small suit case, my cello, fridge, and TV is all I'm taking.

Peep.

Change beneath the seat

Waning time wasted

picking pennies and singing

room remains unpacked

Conan off on another date. Dad home early. Going off to Lakeland for good Sunday.

It's hard to believe the summer's already over... actually, to be truthful, it felt like forever... but for the first time I'm really not looking forward to going back anymore. I usually love going back, but I really hate the stress.

Goal number two (number one dealing with procrastination) is get a freaking car.

Seat Covers

I'm completely neurotic, you know that? One upset stomach after dinner and I can convince myself I'm dying. I hear a plane fly overhead and automatically assume it's a nuclear warhead aimed at the house. See a shooting star and start thinking about Armageddon. Plan on failing something before I even start.

At least I know I'm crazy, but it's hard to stop a car once it starts to roll downhill.

A small comfort it is, then, to have distraction, when it so easily leads me to chaos. I am my own greatest downfall--I need no pretty face or well-aimed words to topple me. Shit. I really need to take up Yoga, or maybe get my head on straight...

Focus focus clean

practice practice organize

my plans for the week

Haiku sums it up

in nifty little verses

damn upset stomach

Saw roach in bathroom

slimy and black as it crawls

I wanted my Raid

Cannot lay down now

belly in pinches and knots

Hamburger Helper

I swear off red meat

no longer shall I suffer

gaseous agony

Tired but awake

will try sleeping sitting up

back pressed against wall

damn five seven five

sapping all my energy

try to think clearly

fan is blowing cool

damn light baring down harshly

leg tangled in sheet

Shredded Tires

Doubtless, I'm completely torn between grief that summer is over and relief that I can return to accomplishing something in my life.

I'm living in this eerie state of nostalgia, like my memories of all the different sagas in my life are floating together a deep rain puddle in the shade of an oak tree, clear to the bottom coated by golden leaves. Nothing would please me more than just a pointless drive around the state with nothing but a map, a bitch load of CD's, two or three gallons of Arizona Green Tea with Ginseng and Honey, my dog, and a few hundred dollars for nothing but gas and food. I just want to clear my head of all of this, maybe kill this restless apathy so I can get motivated to move on.

I'm lost again, if momentarily.

I think I'm infatuated with a fictional character.

Stupid cello, stupid etudes, stupid Sammartini. Stupid me, knowing this would happen.

I want to hang a rug out back and beat it senseless with a baseball bat, but I'm too tired to attempt it.

Sideswiped

Nothing is more ominous than a new file on Word

untouched by taint of human emotion

or besmirched

by blasphemous attempts at creativity--

mocking me, that blinking cursor--powerless to stop

the screaming sliver of black

as it taunts--ha--ha--ha--ha--

steady rhythm, unceasing, merciless

--ha--ha--ha--ha--

there, then gone,

there again--

ha--ha--ha--blink--blink--blink

sleep is for the dead,

rest for the weary--

but not the anxious--

blink--ha--blink--ha--

bitten nails, broken, cracked lips

scarlet fever of the mind,

shadows hissing

halted heartbeat

dulled humor

and the laughing--

ha--ha--blink--ha--blink--

anger without feeling,

exhaustion without sweat--

waiting...

deliverence, where art thou

blink--HA--blink--HA

patterns in the lights

secured in memory,

sweet pine drifting--

Christmas when I was five

amongst the wolf spiders and piss ants--

alone without fear, gaping at the sing-song

tale spoken in the branches

suspended above a modest mountain;

rewrapped toys and food--

cold sand, grit in my teeth--

there should be a taste, like brown sugar

or cherrys or pie--

pretend anyway

surge of topaz bubbles

rushes through my chest at his name--

goddamn you, heart,

betraying me...

tear you and bleed you out into the abyss,

if I could only reach

blink--ha--blink--HA

dfajfjaskdjfdjfdkjfkd

Making up for Chaos Cobbler, I produced a pan of homemade rice krispie treats this morning.

Rekindled love for all the things I obsessed over when I was thirteen.

Somehow, I think I'm regressing to an earlier state of life as a defense mechanism against stress.