I had horrible dreams last night.
When I finally woke up for the last time, I was back in my house, lying on my couch. I put my glasses on my face and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. I yelled at Bingley a few times to quit licking his leg and he finally just ran away.
I set my alarm pretty late on Sundays so I can feel sort of smug when I wake up before it goes off. I'm not really fooling anybody.

I'm having a thoughtful Sunday. After a week of not thinking at all, it feels good to have a small amount of emotion, and a small amount of transforming thought. I had an hour long quiet time while it snowed and I reheated my coffee three times.
We watched Rent last night which is (in my opinion, and quite a few of my friends disagree with me) a horrible movie. To me, the songs just weren't great, and I felt like everyone in the movie got what they had coming to them, so I didn't really feel any sympathy for them. No, I don't think that's self righteous of me, I'm just being honest. If you're sleeping around with people who shoot heroine up their arms, or if you are a man having sex with another man, I don't really feel bad for you when you get AIDS. You chose your lifestyle.
If any of them had repented, it really could have been a different story to me. I might have cried, even.
Okay. Saying these things out loud will probably come back to bite me.
Having more than one day off gives me too much time to think, I guess.

take this for a grain of salt
as Nick D'Amico would say

"I know sitting in this Barnes and Noble Cafe that my underwear is probably showing. I know I'm young. I know that true love has never shown up at my door or saved me from anything, but that my friendships have saved me from a hell. I know I've made some mistakes, but I don't think that I've made my one big mistake. I know that glamor is worth something, but my life will never be rock and roll. I am far from the end, but I hope for it's nearness. I'm happy even when I am unhappy."
-Me four months ago

I am learning things. I am growing. I think someone is done punishing me for listening too long to one song.

"How was your flight, Mom?"
"Did you know you can buy a beer for $5 to wash your Codeine down with?"
-Judy

should we sing some kind of chorus?

At two a.m. on my way home this morning, I realized that I am a feminist. I am. A feminist. Maybe a closet feminist (can I be that, does that exist?) but it's there all the same. And the reasons I would never yield to believing I was, was men that made me believe you had to be a lesbian to be a feminist. That you couldn't be a mom. That you couldn't be a cute Christian girl and still be a feminist.

But I don't see it like that. And I don't see why I can't have a strong mind and not wear cute jeans. And I don't know if I will put up with any more nights of being degraded and laughed at, however indirectly it might be.

and I can sing the blues so well...

There are always those people you meet that are lonely.
When I first met her for the second time, I could tell that she was lonely, and I feel bad now for not trying to fix her better. You always think that someone else will do that part; the fixing.
You could look into her eyes and know she was falling apart, even though she wouldn't admit it. She wouldn't confess about cocaine or nitrous oxide...but she gave me clues.
"I sat in front of my old house the other day," she told me, when she was generous. "I smoked a pack of cigarettes and cried the whole time." I thought about that. I even tried it once. I tried smoking a pack of cigarettes, and crying. I got three cigarettes deep and realized I was a jackass. I don't have enough sadness in me to do that. I am, most of the time, a truly happy person.

She cut her hair, and disappeared.

I saw her several months later with a much older man, and I wonder if she will ever be happy. I wonder how much her father damaged her by just not loving her enough. How much any of our fathers damage us, and how blessed I am to have the father that I have and have had.
I went through a phase of being angry with my parents (I never thought I'd do that, but I'm just a teenage dirt bag baby...) and at the end of it, I realized that it wasn't my parents that screwed me up. I did that myself because I had nothing else to be angry about.

"Everybody's so inviting, they have it in for me I know.
It's not that I don't really love you, it's just that I don't really know."
Julian Casablancas

How do you take care of someone when you are nowhere near them. How do you help someone out when they are falling apart from the same thing you've fallen apart from in the past, and there was no way out of it when you went through it in the first place? That you just had to suffer through with Wes Anderson and Spoon and Zach Braff and that crying for a lot of nights eventually turned your heart into something impenetrable enough that you just kept going day after day with a cup of coffee in your hand?

I don't know how to say all those things them. Everybody chooses a different poison.

"The hateful things you think you want to say,
time will turn them into jokes. (Yup.)"

I'm standing in my room bending a credit card in half and my feet are starting to feel sweaty because I'm wearing slippers. Why does it have to be that way? I love slippers.

You know how there is caffeine to wake, and pills to sleep, and medicine to make you happy when you are not...why can't there be something over-the-counter to make your mind come alive and think new things? I am already tired of winter and how it traps us in. How the snow won't go away.
But at the same time, I am already so excited because I feel like I'm on the verge of something new. In 10 more days, the sun will start rising earlier and setting later, like the world was just a ping pong ball and it hit the other side and is bouncing back now. The world is bouncing back..

an unplanned nap

an unplanned nap
Originally uploaded by virginiaz

night

It took me all day to get where I am. To create this hair. To dress and to walk with my head above water. To get used to the cold, to wrap a scarf around my neck. To forget the night and the dreams, and the way my heart felt the last time it was dark outside.

And I have to do it all over again.
What a terrible dance we do.
This night and day thing.

Originally uploaded by EvilxElf

Often I forget that I belong to the Lord.
That Jesus bought me and I made a promise to Him.
I always try to keep my promises.

I also forget most days, that the people I'm standing next to are my brothers and sisters. Because I forget, I often don't treat them with the respect they deserve. Or the respect they don't deserve. Either way I should be kinder. We are entertaining the angels, after all.

Thank you, Jesus, for the music. I don't want to fool around anymore.

When I am near you, I see what you love so clearly. No one else knows that you are repeating yourself, in your own kitchen.
Somehow, I don't get tired of it. I just love you.
More.


My ride home tonight was strange. It was snowing, and I was crying, as I pulled of the freeway, and once I finally got to the stop light (traffic was merged to one lane, and even though it was midnight, these guys were out working on the road, and there was bad traffic) And this man, I saw him jump up into this backhoe in the middle of the intersection. He stood wiping the wet snow off the seat of the backhoe, and I felt sympathy for him, in the middle of my self pity, I stopped thinking of myself. When he sat down, his jeans were going to get wet. And how long did he have to be out there on state street anyway? Til six in the morning? What? I was obviously staring straight at him. I didn't have anything else to look at, and I was unashamed. He was staring at me, back. From underneath his hard hat, and over his sweatshirt he had pulled up over his nose, he stared back. I was friends with him. We were old pals.
And just like that, the light turned green, and we both forgot about each other. I zoomed through the intersection, and he waited for the next car to stop at the light and make friends with him all over again.

I don't have anything left.
ANYTHING. I am less of a personality at the end of this week than I was at the beginning. I am foolish, I am flawed.
And it's like, oh well.

To do before I'm twenty (an abridged version):

-ride a roller coaster (never done that)
-drive a motorcycle (see first item on list)
-stop cutting my hair
-grow some flowers
-spend a day with God
-fall in love for the first time (maybe)
-Go back to Colorado
-breathe underwater
-do something very "un"Rachel (call in sick and go see a movie? leave the country?)
-see the ocean
-drink coffee in Portland
-watch Magnolia
-break a bad habit
-do something nice for somebody else

My dog is hacking something up upstairs and I just spilled my entire cup of coffee on my desk.

I still don't know what I am doing, and what to do with my life. I dropped one of my harder Spring semester classes, and replaced it with Yoga and Bowling to fulfill the credits. I'm sort of excited.
Maybe after the Christmas break I will want to go back to school. Who knows.

I want to sit down and make a list of things I want to accomplish before I'm twenty. Will update on this later; I'm taking suggestions...

"Set your mind on the head pin, not on the side pins."
Pocket 5:19


(Tony)



It's Tuesday. I'm finding lately that I need to be redundant with myself about what day it is. Yesterday (which was, yes Rachel, Monday) I sent the tube back out to the drive through and said, "There ya go, have a great weekend!" And the poor old couple stared at me for a few seconds while I turned red and did not correct my mistake. I think what I meant was "Have a nice holiday." or "Happy Thanksgiving," but somehow these all run together in my head like coke does.

We left it feeling fresh in some other atmosphere and we forget to tell you what it feels like and we also forget to care. It was a phone flipping open and shut and different hours to think in different languages.

It was seventeen shivering seconds before we met in the car and buckled ourselves in.
It was the truth.

It was reclaiming broken soldiers who were hazed by the sounds of bombs. It was showing them what it meant to be warriors.
The good side, whether or not I can feel my fingers.

"No, not the Indians from India. The ones from South America or Mexico or Wyoming."
-Kels

I dreamed that Gabriel was four years old and Hannah went and got him tattooed. He had an entire sleeve. A little four year old boy with a sleeve. Even in my dream I had some questions. Was it legal? Was it going to stretch out as he grew up?

I dreamed that Tanya and I quit Chase and we were both working at Walmart with Bryan. We had to drive about three hours to get to work each day so we carpooled.

I love dreams. I always make a point to remember them when I get to sleep in. Last week when I got to sleep in I had a dream that Tony and Philip and I were going to rob a credit union. But I chickened out and we ended up just going to get a burrito at Chipotle.

I've started a new goal of each day to pick something that makes my entire day. That way, at least one amazing thing happened to me, and anything else is just bonus.
For instance, I ran into Eddie yesterday when I was studying at SLCC. (I don't go there anymore, it's just a convenient place to study that's not my noisy house) We both stared at each other and tried to remember who we were and then suddenly we were talking, even though in the 6 years I was in love with him, I never got the courage up to talk to him. We would always just stare at each other when we ran into one another at Jordan. So it was no big surprise that we just picked up where we left off. But anyway, I realized I was still in love with him, and it made my day.

Today I got some great Bowling Bible verses from Bryan and Tony and they made my day. I'll share them with you so you can be happy.

"For the LORD is Perfect, he cannot tolerate a spare. He looks down on gutters."
Strikealations 7:10 (Bryan)

"For those who don't strive to bowl, don't strive to be like the Lord, and therefore do not know the love our Lord offers."
Bowlariah 11:8 (Bryan)

"Doing your best will not get you to heaven, so be perfect and bowl a 300, for I am perfect said the Lord."
Bruinswick 4:9 (Tony)

but I'd rather not celebrate my defeat and humiliation here with you

salt fingers, cuts, yes cuts. Hold an amp in your arms. No, please feel this way when you sit on the couch, and then never feel that way again. Take a picture. Your eyes have never looked that way before, to me, and it shuts down my heart to never love. A tube of paint? Dirty in the morning, dirty at night. With only seven cups of coffee to keep her moving, honey? How's she gonna do that tomorrow and the next day, with sticky fingers and skinny jeans?
I don't have words, anymore. I don't think straight, anymore.
The only thing I know is Jesus.
The only thing that keeps me free is Jesus.
The only way my heart is clean enough to get out of bed in the morning and look you in the eyes is Jesus.

eventually my mouth will just turn to dust.

On Wednesday, Billy was doing something interesting with Brittni's pedal board. It was like he was recording and looping himself, or something. Maybe it was just reaaaaally long delay.
But the stuff he plays and makes up on the spot is some of the saddest stuff I've ever heard. When he plays it and it loops over and over, I want to live in that pedal board. In that amp. I want to sleep there and have that be the music of my life.

Sometimes I think music is the only productive part left of my life. I mean, I make money to pay my bills day after day, and I'm going to school...but for what and for who? Its going to burn.

I had a little nervous breakdown after creative writing class today. But instead of smoking or running away I just went bowling at the union. As Walter from the Big Lebowski would say, "Fuck it, let's roll." So I did that.
After two horrible games (lots of strikes, but not so many pins total...) I walked out of the Union and went straight past the building my next class was in, and started heading toward my car. But then about halfway there I started crying and turned around. I am not very good at skipping school anymore, no matter what kind of existential identity problems I am having mid-afternoon. Besides, I hadn't seen William in two weeks.
So I walked into class fifteen minutes late, because I am a weird girl who bowls between classes. But it was good I went, or I would have missed a quiz and a prompt for the paper we're supposed to write this week. Hmmm. William stuck his tongue out at me from across the room.
Our teacher had two Muslim girls come to class today and give the class an overview of why some Muslim women choose to wear the coverings, and tried to explain that they were not being oppressed by their husbands. They were very sweet.
At the very end, one of them said something that really hit me. She said, "At the very least there are now twenty more people in this country that will not look at us strangely when we are walking through the airport."
White people are assholes sometimes. I am an asshole sometimes.
I want to live my life with more compassion. I forget how privileged I am most days.

This is what I feel like when I feel like nothing matters.
Like when all I get excited about is warm coffee and 2:30 when Bob shows up.

I do like playing the bass guitar.
I do like paint...paint everywhere.

I'm trying to convince myself I'm alright and I'm doing a horrible job.

Tanya gave me a really strange look today that I've never gotten from her before. I came back to work during the lunch rush, and she was on the phone, and I pulled out a V8 and gave it to her just because we are friends. She gave me a friendship look. I took a picture in my mind.

I am scattered tonight. I am in boxes in the garage. I am in dresser drawers. I am locked in the vault running low on oxygen. I am speaking Spanish.

"You have the word s-e-x in your bathroom."
-Kelsea

My week in review:
...I read my Bible every day, which I'm pretty happy about. Its funny what an affect it has on you just to get up and read your Bible and eat oatmeal. It's a destresser for sure.
...I went bowling..of course.
...I went to bed at 9:30 on Halloween, just because.
...I saw my first zombie movie. (I think I'm hooked.)
...had a wonderful dream
...switched great music with Roy
...met Brittni and Hannah for breakfast
...and I fell apart at the finish line, which I've been hoping would happen for a while. When you just bottle things up, it has to come out somehow. Maybe not in the burger king parking lot, but oh well.

I hate waking up to no milk on a Sunday morning. What a bummer.

My life is in fast forward, right now, which I don't really mind. Where has the month of October gone? I've spent it at the drive through, working for the mafia, or something.

I slept in til 9 this morning, which is a novelty now that my hours have changed. I laid there, and even though I could hear the words "pancake! pancake Izzy? Would you like a pancake?" I didn't get up. I rolled over and played music on my phone and fell back asleep.

I'm content with my life, right now. Which is a dangerous thing to say, because then you know something will come along. But I'm happy right now. I'm learning self control in some of the most difficult areas of my life, and my anxiety at school, and sometimes work has been going gradually away.
I'm okay with what's next, whatever it is. Bring it on.

I try to write things down that people say when they're funny to me.
Here are some Tony-isms from dinner at the D'Amico's last night.

"That's not called an Americano, that's called 'Can I have a little sick with my disgusting?'"

"I like to 2nd hand smoke better than first hand smoke."
"Well I just like to smoke in the house."

And my favorite

"Yeah, she's had a little bit to drink, but haven't we all?"-when no one was drinking but him

Tonight I went to a rapid fire poetry reading at the Art Barn. I met William there and Alex (also from Gender class) came too.
The Art Barn is a cute little gallery near the university where they have poetry readings frequently. A lot of the young "urban" professors read their stuff there. I think they're all pretty good friends. They had lots of inside jokes.
Even the bathroom was so cute I wanted to take pictures. I walked around and looked at the art with Alex. He thought I was really superficial because he was really looking at the pottery.

They had a few really good writers that I liked. One girl stood up and did a monologue about how she'd been hired to hold Dick Cheney's hand at night because he was scared of something under his bed. It was pretty funny. Others were really explicit like my professor told us they would be.
"Is this what you really wanted?" William asked me, both of us blushing.
"Not really," I told him, although a few hours before I'd told him that it was exactly what I was hoping for. "I told you it would be this way though.."
His professor went up after that and William rolled his eyes a lot at him, because he thinks he's a douche, but it was pretty funny.
We even had cake, and then Alex said, "I must be going." It was all very surreal and fancy and really delightful actually. I would definitely go again.

There are moments, here and there, that I know life exists outside of clips of money and angry drunk customers.
I know it in the rotting leaves and cold air, and seeing my breath. It all reminds me of my head buried deep in your laundry and the kind of tears that feel so good.
I want more than anything to be in Des Moines.

"So who said 'shitting kittens'? I WANNA KNOW."
-Charles

Sometimes
I
worry
about stuff.

"I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think they will sing to me."
(T. S. Eliot)

My mind is muggy like the humidity that suffocates you during an Iowa summer, so much so that I couldn't pull my pants down because they were sticking to my legs. But in those days, maybe I shouldn't have been wearing those shorts. Shouldn't have been looking out the window when I was going to the bathroom.
I was saying, my mind is cloudy. The thoughts go in winding roads and I want to complain a lot but I just turn it all off. I turn off the brain.
I'm supposed to be writing a paper. Of course, I'm writing a blog, and I still don't know what I'm saying.

Often when I am sitting in the drive-through, I live out an entire year of my life. I pick one man that I wonder what it would be like to have a relationship with. In my head, I play out the first few months. Then I go to the part where he stops paying for dinner, where he doesn't love Jesus. Where I've been staying out too late and there is nothing fruitful I have to show for the last six months of my life. In my head, we break up, and just like that the relationship is over. It has saved me much grief. Men I didn't really love. Men who were too boring. Men who smelled good but weren't very funny.

I am tired.
I want to quit school. I want to buy a motorcycle. I want backpack across Brazil with Alison.
But I don't have any guts.
I just have coffee and aspirin and my commute to look forward to. Day after day...

"I have measured out my life with coffee spoons."

Even though Tony was mad last night, I realized we're going to be friends for our whole lives. Cuz his favorite number is 9, too.

It's just such a great thing.

A list, because I haven't thought straight all week.
-work
-fall break (yet not a vacation)
-tired
-coffee
-ASHLEY'S wedding
-champagne
-aspirin
-my camera is back in my possession. don't have to buy a new one. good!!
-postcard from California
-sugar
-keeping people together
-watching them fall apart
-Tony boiling mad
-tricky
-the smell of the rain sweet and untouchable
-someone to listen, someone to talk
-an email about Regina
-a nap during skateboarding season
-the hole in my heart that I build a fence around and cherish so well that it becomes a dear old friend, (war-torn and unhappy) but hopeful.
-and every breath we drew was hallelujah.

Kelsea and I were sitting at her kitchen table after dark on Sunday, getting in a good three hour talk. I told her that it seems like my life moves in these repeating sessions.

Right now, I'm going through a workaholic session again. Working to take my mind off things I don't wanna talk about. Working because I don't have school. Working so I can buy another camera, and finish paying for my bass. It is my machine-self. Get up, coffee, work early til closing, usually. Having meaningless conversations with my coworkers. Tanya gets mad at me for something, then she settles down. Touch my hair and forget that it's still on my head. Cash in. Cash out.

Go to bed, with few exceptions, not having even seen my friends, and press the repeat button after 9 hours of sleep.
I'm looking forward to Ashley's wedding. Not looking forward to school starting again next week.

Maybe I'll buy a ticket to the Regina Spektor show. I owe it to myself. I just don't want to see all the stupid people there that don't love her like I love her. I don't want it to ruin her for me.
But you need something to look forward to, or else...
what?
What else is there left.

With my hands in my pockets, I told Sarah.
"Yeah. That's just me, and I can't change." But I knew I could change.
But she didn't need to know that. I realized I could say anything I wanted to her, cuz she doesn't really know me. Now that the other Sara is gone, I really have no reason not to be a very private person. Or a liar.
I just didn't give a damn, this morning. Staring out the drive through. No one comes to the bank on a holiday unless they don't remember its a holiday. Columbus day isn't a real holiday. I mean, come on.
"Well, that's really sad." And she went on to say something about herself, and I zoned out and made the appropriate noises in the appropriate places like I usually do.
"So is that how you were raised?" She finally asked me. She's a psychology major. I closed my eyes and wished I'd had at least nine cups of coffee at 7 a.m. I check my phone before I answer her.
I am an asshole.
"Um, actually I was raised to believe I should buck up. I was raised to believe that life is hard and you should get used to it. But I was raised to believe I was better than everyone else." I watched her eyes go very wide and her eyebrows lifted. She squinted.
"Hmmm." I could see her wheels turning. She's one of those people who stands up for poor people and black people and people who have open minds. It's not like I'm not. But sometimes she can almost come across as fake about it. I like to push her buttons. "In fact," I said, "I have a really hard time liking people who are different from me."
I said the word different like it was poisonous. Just to freak her out.
"Oh....really?" She breathed slowly.
"Yep. It's really hard." But just like that the fun was over when she started talking.
"Mhhhmmm," I quietly said to whatever she told me after that.
Making appropriate noises in the appropriate places.
I looked at the computer screen. Put my money in clips. My Russian boss at lunch. Grumpy with me. The words on the computer screen say my name in all caps lock. It unnerves me. Seeing the A in Rachel in caps. It creeps me.
You'd think this life would make me bolder, but I'm running scared is all.

"To the core of my being, I'm a plastic green army man. And I'm satisfied with that."
-Kelsea


I had a very strange day in Provo, American Fork, Salt Lake, and Sandy. Yes. I drove one hundred miles today, and saw quite a few circles of friends. And I got cultured.

"Wait, Vegans go to the bathroom?"
-Scott

Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love..

Oh dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers
I have not art to reckon my groans but that
I love thee best, O my best, believe it. Adieu.
'Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst
this machine is to him,
-Hamlet

Sometimes, I go completely crazy by 3:30 p.m. on Thursdays, because they are chaotic messes of days. I won't bore you with work and school details, but in between classes I stood out side, at the very end of the sidewalk and ate a bag of chips, in the sunlight. (It was colder outside than in). I rocked back and forth on the age of the pavement. Every once in a while mumbling profane arguments with myself.
"Who the hell is that?" I found myself saying out loud, to no one and about no one in particular, as if I were supposed to know every one on campus, and that particular girl in the headband was unfamiliar to me. I burst out laughing and walked inside. My hair is long now.

Moving on.
My boss finally gave me more hours since she couldn't find anyone to fulfill a full time position. I plan on being out of debt by Christmas. I'm pretty stoked about it. Just worried that it will be hard to keep up with school. I don't really love school right now. I'm having the same ideas I have every semester about dropping out, but it usually goes away in the summer.
Hrrmmm.

Oh well.

It's funny. Sometimes I almost start crying when I am trying to tell Collin that I miss playing bass with him. I think the bass player/drummer relationship makes or breaks a band, and I definitely miss our souls clicking together in that way. It's hard to describe.
I think Caleb and I are becoming good friends, and that maybe one day we'll sync like that. I guess after four years of watching Collin's feet and learning what he was going to do next, it's only natural that we would be that tight. Just give it some time, I guess.

Oi. I am getting sappy about music. I am a very different person than I used to be.

So here's what I've got:
-a really messy room (I just don't understand when I'm going to become a civilized person. I mean, seriously, Rachel. Paint is everywhere, you have not vacuumed, and Lord knows where your textbooks are)
-extensions (what-the-hell. when are you going to feel comfortable going out in public with those)
-you ditched Tanya's wedding early (I'm really sorry Tanya, that I made up lies. I'm really happy for you. Your wedding was beautiful, and surreal to see all my coworkers outside of work, and realize that I wanted Bob to ask my to dance, kind of?)
-making it through one single stressed out day because of Pepsi
-realizing that it is weird to hang out with married couples that talk about sex so much, inadvertantly
-the weekend, Baby
-laughter

"I think that if I had your chance, I would definitely take it. But yeah. We're all gonna miss you man."
"Yeah... It's a pretty big opportunity, not just music-wise, but for my relationship with Jesus, too."
"That's really great. I think you will benefit from (going on tour), and it'll stretch you."
"Yeah. It'll help me grow my beard too."
-My conversation with Matt Nanes this morning

"So they know this other world exists, and when you tell them that the government can't find the money to provide them with a decent place to go to school, they don't believe it and they know that it's a choice that has been made--a choice about how much they matter to society. They see it as a message: 'This is to tell you that you don't much matter. You are ugly to us so we crowd you into ugly places. You are dirty so it will not hurt to pack you into dirty places.' My son says this: 'By doing this to you, we teach you how much you are hated.' I like to listen to the things my children say. They're not sophisticated so they speak out of their hearts."
-from Savage Inequalities: Children in America's Schools (Jonathan Kozol)

Wow.

i might stay out longer than I left the light on for you, if you show you show

I've settled down now. No more smoke blowing out my ears.
Jenni came back into my life again and every time she or Megan come, they teach me how to be happy. How to be young, how to laugh. She makes my heart and soul smile. Her sister Joy came with her (both of them are from Parker, CO), and we had a really good time.

We walked around downtown in the rain, enjoying the moments in our flip flops. (I think there are only a few days left of flip flops.) We got starving and ate at Tony Caputo's.
Then, Jenni and I played around on my bass for an hour or so.
Then church. (God and I are friends again)
Then bowling.

Also the Provo-church Kick-off was on Friday, and it was spectacular. The Kelsea-Collin-Mark band did a wonderful job, and I really think God is going to do amazing things down there. I think He already is.

Shannon's got this way of sharing truth with me that completely shuts my mouth right where I am. No argument left.
Take it.
Or leave it.

And it's so hard to take it. But I don't wanna leave it either.
I don't want to choose.

So I'll probably just drink a few more cups of tea this week, and not have my heart repaired until the damn mechanic can come pick it up.

Yes. I am feeling decidedly less in-love today.
I feel like the business woman I supposedly am. I feel like my life is better spent in finance and paint. I mean... that's what I do on Mondays.
I make people mad at me because they've been waiting in line for twenty minutes, and after six o' clock, Alison and I are up to our elbows in paint.
I guess it's a good way to spend your life.

I like it.

sometimes at night, I feel like I'm falling in love.
the dropping temperatures don't help
and certainly the quiet moments don't help.
the freeway worship
the decaf coffee at 11:59
and your hand on my shoulder
don't help
but in the morning, I will wake up
and it'll just be wishful thinking.



thankfully.

I didn't slow down til 1815 tonight. (Yes, I'm still trying to bring back military time. It makes more sense.) What I mean is six o clock.
I got up, and after carefully packing my car (every day is a road trip in the life of Rachel) and I went to work, listening to the Con by Tegan and Sara (go buy this album if you already didn't). And I was the only teller today. I left late-ish (and Bob showed up sometime after me. Bob and I are friends now. I'm allowed to talk about him. He's from California, and yes he's dreamy and smells good. He sometimes reminds me of Jordan in his deadpan humor. And he asks me about bowling, so he's friend material) So life goes on I guess. What is weird is being in the bathroom at the same time as your boss, and talking to her when you are both in the bathroom. Hmmm.

So I went to school, and literally ran from the parking lot to where my class was, cuz I have to park so far away. I love school now, which I guess changed in the last four days. I love my creative writing class. It's just that my Diversity class is keeping me up at night. I wrote a paper for it yesterday, and skipped out on life to sit home and read article after article about homosexuality. I sat and cried my eyes out, had a crisis of faith, and to try to sleep after that just didn't work. Yes. Homosexuals are keeping me awake at night. But I've reached a place, today, where I am no longer angry at God, and no longer a misanthrope. Some areas, in life, you just leave gray until you can work them out over pasta with someone who won't make your forehead wrinkle up. Right?
So finally after school, I sat and did homework on the patio at the Union. The sky was overcast and no one was around, and it was a good chilling out time before I drove clear to the other mountains to put together Ashley's shower with Krista and Adrian.
It's funny when you come home at night, and you've listened to the Con three or four times, and you don't know where all the hours went.
But when you believe, they call that rock and roll.

if I'm frightened, and I have lost my way

And wouldn't it just be like education to make me question what I believe. But maybe knowing things doesn't even empower you. Maybe it just confuses you more, and the truth turns gray under the filter of "knowledge".

One way or another, I think the truth will always prove itself to be true. At least, I hope it will, at this point.

"Maybe I don't actually care about cows that much. I mean, maybe last week I ate a burger."
"So what, then, you're a social meat eater?"
-two kids in my writing class

Today is one of the best days of my life. I'm saying that so that I can start keeping track of them, so that I remember that they happen.

I woke up this morning, and I was actually smiling, because even after 8 hours of sleep, I was still replaying last night. (Last night was Stesha's birthday party, and it was great...). Also, my alarm clock is Regina singing "a little bag of cocaine, a little bag of cocaine, and who's the girl wearing my dress?". I got up and got myself dressed, and went and got contacts at the mall at my new Ophthalmologist's office. He's a cool guy. Ophthalmologists are weird because they spend like, maybe 25 minutes looking into your soul while you stare at the ceiling (no left, now right. Now look at my shoe), and write you out a prescription for something that is going to affect you every day of your life til the next time you come in. 25 minutes.
After that, I bought my first ever pair of Steve Maddens. I fear that I will never stop buying more shoes. This is the third pair in, oh, a week.
(I'm still in denial that I have a bass and amp to pay for by January).
I met Lauren for an amazing cup of coffee, and Shannon went on her lunch break and hung out with us. We sat and ate cucumbers, and it was... divine.
Creative writing class was just peachy, and here I sit, anticipating a great band practice, and an amazing night of bowling. And I don't even have to wake up early in the morning.
Does life seriously get any better?

I just realized this morning that I never got to see last week's Post Secrets. I'm really mad.

I'm sick of being sick now.

Oil paints take a long time to dry. Really long time.

I was fine last night, and I woke up 11 hours later with my throat fully swollen (say that fives fast) and my hair a full afro.
Dayumn.

We went out for Zach's birthday last night, and it was a lot of fun. We went to an Indian restaurant, and everyone who worked there was hilarious. It was a really good time, and it reminded me of this kid Dilpreet said (Dil-Pree) that I used to sit at the same table with in photography a few years back. Actually, I think that was sophomore year. (Whoa. I'm a Sophomore again.) And he was hilarious too, and he was from India. I told him I loved him every day, and he had to try to come up with new and exciting ways to tell me he hated me. I think somewhere I still have a note we passed back and forth that says something along the lines of
"Dilpreet, I hope we get married someday," to which he possibly replied, "I'm going to kill you." It was a very healthy relationship. I can probably say it contributed to who I am today.

Sorry. I'm high on Sudaphed.

a list:
-I just bought a box of fruit gushers and ate 66% of it's contents
-I also just bought Under the Blacklight by Rilo Kiley. Haven't opened it yet, but I already know it's good. I was reading an interview with Jenny and Blake in Filter. It made me stoked for this album, and I'm still in love with Jenny Lewis
-I also bought a coat, even though it's at least seventy degrees outside. I'm stoked about winter.
-I finished the story, and I was really disappointed in myself, but it's done. It's over. I'll get over it.
-if I put a cup of coffee in my room, and shut the door for five minutes, and I come back in, my room smells like a coffee greenhouse. (I don't think that's a real thing, but that is my description of the smell, it seriously makes my room humid)
-I watched Return of the Jedi last night.
-my hair doesn't curl no matter how old I get, or how much sugar I eat
-I love sugar, cookies, coffee, seeing girls wear high heels, A.T.'s facial hair, ten dollar jeans that fit me better than $100 jeans, books that I love to read, music produced by Chris Walla, my phone, keeping up with Alison and girl Alex, my new bass, my new band, refrigerators with peaches inside, Charles Ellsworth's poetry (from my creative writing class), and bowling.

I'm trying to count my blessings instead of dwelling in my disasters.

my face and my eyebrows hurt.

I had a really good weekend with my family in Midway. We stayed at a resort, and went swimming (a lot), and took naps and ate junk food. It was good for the soul. I'm still trying to finish a story that I've been working on for a couple of months. I like the story, and I'm bent on finishing it, but in some ways, I've already outgrown it. I guess it is a freshman sort of story that one day I could look back on and say, "That's where I got myself in gear." At least, I hope it's that sort of thing.

If that makes any sense.
I was going somewhere with all this, and I'm trying to remember where it is.

Can't remember. But this is my Monday morning, and its Tuesday. So there's always that. But in general, I've come to disapprove of Holidays. You have to move everything around to just have that one day off. Business slows down an extra day (not just the Saturday Sunday that is already killing our momentum every week. OF COURSE Japan is going to get ahead of us. OF COURSE China is going to take over the world. We're taking every freakin' weekend off of business!) And I've lost hours of work off this week because Monday is usually my longest work day. I wouldn't care but I just bought a bass and amp on credit. Did I tell you this is the first time in my life that I've been in debt, other than my truck? Nope, I don't even have any school debt yet, and I've never carried a balance on my credit card...

Cute Bob and Nice Sara are quitting and/or transferring. They better get replaced by cool people, or I'm gonna die.

Okay. That's it for today.
The End.

It's Friday night, and I watched TV with my family. But we had icecream, and my dad is funny, and I ate someone else's chinese food, so I'm sure it's okay.

Work is JUST GREAT. I'M DOING JUST FINE. But I took this job so I could walk away at the end of the day, and not care. So that's what I'm going to do, I'm just not going to care.
But both of my favorite coworkers are leaving. Bleh.

I could eat an entire cake, I think right now.
But more, I am looking forward to just drinking coffee in the morning, and maybe I'll go get a donut, and then go to the aquarium.
Back to my roots.

I have a little bit of a horrible confession to make.
It's not that I don't love my brothers and sisters in Christ. It's not that I don't love my pastors. It's not that I think if I went somewhere else I'd be "happy".
But...
(I really don't want to go to church anymore).

I think part of me is just really tired of trying to keep up with my own convictions. I've been crushed and humbled so much in one week that I don't sometimes think I can keep handling it. (God, why are you smooshing me?) And another part says that if I quit going to church, I wouldn't get hurt by the people I love anymore. I could be with people who don't love me, and we will be just fine. Fine. As in, not good or bad, just fine. Like lithium or something.

This isn't because I'm reading feminist literature.

If you've never checked out Noah Kalina's photography before, you really have to.

http://flickr.com/photos/noahkalina

It's crazy how good he is. I wanna be where he is, and meet the people he meets.

for Kendra:

my writing professor is Christine Marshall. She's pretty. She wears dresses and skirts, and has a really good voice for reading poetry. I have a teacher-crush on her.
And I haven't tried Dazbog coffee yet, but I want to. I saw the picture of the Dazbog t-shirts on your blog, and I really want one, ha ha.
And I want to come out to Fort Collins more than ever. Maybe I could make a trip out there this fall?

It's starting to cool down out here. Last night, I even felt like putting a jacket on.
I went to a show at the Avalon with Tony and Shannon. I guess the Avalon is supposedly a "church" so the owner doesn't have to pay taxes, which is pretty screwy to me. He even got shut down and didn't open back up until he put in "pews". But other than that, it's a cool venue. The place was packed. I sat with Raychel while she did merch for Paxtin. It was a good show. I did see a lot of girls from high school that made me feel crumby. I hate that part. But Tony offered to punch them for me, which made me feel better. We went to the Pie afterwards and everything tasted so good, and everyone made me laugh so hard. Afterwards we hung out at Nick's til two in the morning. Why can't every night just be like that? It was such a good night to end the first week of school.

But I left my camera at church two weeks ago, and I haven't been back to see if I can find it yet. I really hope its still there...

I guess I'm a pretty stable person. I mean, I think I am. And I like that. My impulsive moments have only gotten me into trouble in the past anyway, so I guess it's good, no matter how boring things get, that I'm not in trouble... right?

I don't kiss boys. I don't go on trips. I don't do drugs. I don't take work off. I don't call in sick (much). I don't take chances. I don't break the speed limit (much). I don't go snowboarding because I might break something. And I don't fall in love.

My heart beats in its cage.

"I've been to hell and back so many times I must admit you kinda bore me.."
Ray LaMontagne

I kinda like school. I've got painting with Alison, which is a miracle from the Lord. I'm stoked about that. And today I went to my creative writing class, and I like it too. Originally I was going to get it switched for English 3600, but I love the teacher, and I really just want to write anyway, so why would I change that? I get to sit around in a circle with kids who dress like me, and like the same stuff I do, and I get to write; why would someone just throw that away? Not gonna do it. So that was great.

Today was amazing. I woke up at noon, after a night of making brownies with Shannon and playing Mafia with hillbilly rockstars from North Carolina. I made myself some french toast, only to find we had no syrup, so I went grocery shopping immediately. I came home, finished my breakfast, got some mail from China, and went to school. (I'm going in rewind for you, you see). Then, after school I met Ashley and we had really good adventures like we did in the old days when we were both very single. And as much as I love Billy for her, I really wish I could have those days back. All the time.

Then I ended the night with bowling and really good music, and eating spaghetti in my underpants. You can't really beat that. I've tried.

i see minutes turn into more minutes
and still my heart is beating fine
not a machine
but not a breakdown either
fine it's beating fine

if you take the picture, and you cut it in half, and there is still me, where'd you go? why're you evaporating?
if you take a breath, and you cut yourself in half, which part is still me, and which part is still you?
and when we are cold upon waking in separate beds,
do you ever pray for the minutes to go away before you see me again..
I wanna know if you're even there with your eyes closed behind your glasses, and your coffee sitting cold in it's cup.

"He tells me that when I wake him up, speaking Russian, that I am still asleep."
"You mean he doesn't know Russian?"
"No."
"And how long have you been together?"
"Four years."
"And he never learned any Russian?"
"No. I think he knows maybe three words," Tanya told me.

I think it's funny, that you would be with someone that long and not even bother to try to learn their language. Especially when they are living together. They say that the best way to learn a language is to have a lover that speaks that language. And hell, if I had a Russian lover, I would learn Russian.

where does the good go

Every day is a little bit the same now, but it doesn't scare me as much as it used to. Developing a routine has established some sanity, and I would not be scared to keep living the way I am living now for a long while.
But it will change.

I don't feel like growing older, but I feel like I want to be comfortable in this skin. I want it to fit me, and I want to be happy. As temporary as happy is.

HEAD. Ache.

are you living the dream, or are you sleeping it

I'm sorry that I've obviously been a catastrophe of moods lately. I think for several weeks now I've gone from really high highs to very low consistently, all day long, every few minutes or so. I've been fighting my flesh.

my flesh is a very bad person. I wage war with it everyday. One part of it says that I need to have the new experiences, that having what I want is just fine. I'm saved by Grace. And then the reasonable part says that living for Christ and dying to the flesh is always the better choice, and will always be what I come back around to anyway.
So why waste time?
why?

could you just find a new way to kill me that you haven't tried before?
is that
so much to ask?

spare OH GOD in mercy

I threw away a lot of the letters. Ones from Keith I'd never even opened. From Katrina. From Jackie.
I felt very little shame.
I vacuumed the floor, even.
My room and my heart is clean for a moment.

Our words get more and more strained every day, until we will not speak one day? Until we learn our new languages.

I do not want to go back to college.

"Hi, I'm Icarus, I'm falling. Man for judgment must prepare me..."

"Rachel, I wish you wouldn't do this again," Erica said. But it wasn't to me. It was to crazy Rachel. Little crazy Rachel who was throwing a fit on the way out the door. I admire and love crazy Rachel because she is everything I wish I could be. Little, completely and genuinely passionate and creative, independent, and compulsive. But I already have the crazy part, I think. Or at least, I am very good at breaking nervously down.
I was having one of those times after work, lying in bed, trying to take a nap. The dogs were barking unceasingly, and no one was stopping them, even though the house was full of people. I opened my door and screamed "STOP BARKING" at the top of my lungs, and burst into tears and went back to bed. My throat hurt after.
A very nice person made me stop having a pity party and in a roundabout way made me get up. Impulsively, I decided to go to the Living Aquarium, here.
I was astounded.
I mean, I've always loved aquariums, but it made me feel so peaceful, and it made me believe that God is good again. And that he is colorful, even in the bottom of the ocean. The seahorses. Oh man. And I stuck my hands in the sting ray tank with all these little kids. I smiled like a little kid and laughed for the first time all day.

I am tired. But I've got the joy and the peace and the love. I must go on standing.

open up more

We never use to say the F-word in high school. At least, not much anyway, and usually not out loud. Maybe I'm kidding myself. I can imagine that maybe we did during senior year, when we were really grouchy. But certainly not by the end of my senior year, where I was taking my education into my own hands, going to CNA class, and living an army sort of lifestyle where I was waking up early each morning, drinking coffee, getting headaches, and learning about how to take care of people.

Braiker said the F-word once, in highschool, that I can remember. When we were wheeling yearbooks down the hall, and the exceedingly heavy cart rolled over her foot. She wore flip flops all year long.
"You can say it if you want, Jess."
"FUCK!" She said, and I blushed a little bit, even though I told her to say it. Somehow, I thought it was going to come out as "shit".
"Good job, Jess."

I don't know what my point is, right now. I still don't swear very much, and never at home or work, which limits my sin, to some extent. I'm just trying to remember if there ever really was a more innocent time for us. I guess.

"You can't roast a twinkie too fast...that's a basic."
-Kim

some more real true love

Yesterday, my boss just up and left. He walked out. I think he told his assistant manager that he was quitting and not coming back, and just got in his car and left. The stress got to him, I believe, and he didn't say goodbye to us. Our branch has had three new managers in three months. Two of them quit, (Jeff and the guy before him. Jeff was only manager a month, but the guy before him was only manager a couple weeks). It was a slow day at work, and so I sat looking out the drive through most of the day. I watched the construction workers building a house, slowly. It's coming along. I feel like they're my friends. I feel like I bring them coffee in the morning, and maybe I will hang sheetrock with them once they're done framing. And then I snap out of it, and realize I'm a shmuck working in the air conditioning. I sit and think that maybe it was me that pushed my boss over the edge. Maybe It was because I thought his name was Jeb when he answered the phone. Maybe it was the chaotic process of getting me hired that broke the camel's back. Maybe I didn't smile enough at him when I came into work. But of course, it wasn't. It was money. Money will do it to 'em every time. Missing $40000 checks, or not enough sales...whatever. The last guy was having heart problems from the stress.


Today, I turn 19. I usually don't write on my birthday. But here I am.
I was trying to think about what I thought about my life.
I am glad to be 19. I'm still a teenager, and I'm still aloud to have fun. I am still living at home, because this last year has been drastic and I don't want to try to stress out this year about making rent or whatever and going to school. I am happy enough being single, because I have amazing friends that I spend all my time with, but I have hope that one day I will find that rockstar boy who will skip work with me and drink beer at noon on Tuesdays. I have hope that I'll graduate and know what I want to do with my life, but I really am happy right now working at the bank, watching movies, and writing short stories on the side.
I think I'm going to take a nap now.

get your hands dirty, Love

Collin and I hung drywall together tonight, in Provo. We are officially hardcore. Getting filthy and working hard for Jesus gets me stoked every time.

Then we all went out to get gelato. It's so good, every time. I talked to Steele, and I might be in a band now. I talked to Dan, and he might build me an amp. Lauren and Dax bought me coffee.
And I've finally started doing some real work at my job.

Everything is good.

"Every once in a while, I take these three minute naps standing up at work. Usually, I think I've been out for like an hour, so I go check my email."
-Dax

this is our way to live, and this is my way to die

Every month, when the moon comes back around, I get so happy. Like I'm seeing my old friend again, even though he goes away from me for so long. And then he disappoints me when he leaves again. Again, and again.

I've really hit rock bottom in my bowling career. Maybe I'll just quit. I don't have the guts anymore to face it. Plus, the music there has gotten sucky.

I want to finish one single friggin story.


"You're fighting God's battles, no wonder you're tired."
-Rick Whitney

it will be the same when I leave

i never need the other pair of arms. I always do, I mean. What I mean to say is, I'm scared of the trainwreck I am. Scared of someone seeing it.
i brace myself nightly for a hundred years of what it's like to be alone. alone with my hair. alone with your looks killing me when you're not even here. alone with my truths. that life means death. that music means heartache. that the boy is never honest, whichever one he is.



I'm just a little spooked, more or less. My grandma's best friend died in her sleep this morning, while I was waking up angry and choking down coffee. Brandon is getting married, which means he is fixed, which means his memory cannot stay the same. Our conversations will become cloudy and hazy in my mind, until he's gone completely. And I think I just got stung by a bee.

I just want to go bowling. I want to be left alone. I want to take an effing bath.

the cops and the crooks will team up just to hurt me

a) I really like my job so far
b) I really love bowling now (111 tonight, I'm getting better, it's just been two nights so far) I'm going to have to quit drinking coffee because at $6 a night twice a week...
c) I really love life. Yeah, it's me, Rache. I love life, and I'm okay.

don't get me confused with someone else - I've walked these streets, and I've slammed those doors

It's funny when, maybe you are just sharing a really good dessert with someone, or driving around downtown with them, and you realize when you look into their eyes, that you are totally in love with the person that they are. That just the air around you feels so much easier to breathe, just being around them. (you know who you are.)

On a sidenote, I've listened to the new Spoon CD relentlessly. Over and over it fills me with goodness and peace towards mankind. And purely raw love.

I rolled over because my phone kept going off. Kaylene wasn't next to me anymore. The dog was snoring.
"So this is what it feels like to wake up in a rich person's bed early afternoon on a Tuesday," I thought to myself, smiling. "Yes...."
Once Kelsea and I realized we were still in the same house, she let me hear some music, and tried to make coffee, which spilled all over the floor, since she didn't put a coffee pot underneath it. Somewhere after that, Matt Miller came over to the rich-house and made us huge pancakes.

After I walked outside and realized it was indeed daytime, I went downtown to meet Lauren, and we made cupcakes and watched ridiculous comedians. We drank more coffee.
Then came 50 minutes of traffic on the way home, although I did listen to Between Earth and Sky by the Colour for the 16th time this week. (Go buy that CD, it will make you unbelievably happy).
I ate enchiladas with the fam, then had band, and then went bowling.

Yes, I do lead a charmed life.

"Okay, I feel like I've got an honest answer from you, Rachel, because you have your mother's common sense, and your father's cynicism."
-Jeremy

the upswing

I was telling Zach this morning (well, one o clock...hey, I enjoy my weekends) that I think that things must be on the upswing, because the really hard stuff is over. I had what felt like a heart attack last night, at church, doing rock recordings, having hurried band meetings, and having a friend come to church that I'm not sure how to talk to, but this morning, I feel very much at peace.

Kelsea and I sat out on the gate of my truck for probably an hour last night, catching up after five weeks of not having any sort of real conversation. The street was completely dead, and the rich-neighborhood had a street light for practically every million dollar house. It was eery, like night and day at the same time. Somehow, things will work out.

I woke up late and did dishes, listening to Neko Case. I don't love her as much as Jenny Lewis, but she is pretty amazing. Listening to her Fox Confessor put me in a really good mood. I even cleaned my room. And here I am.

I saw Nick today at the bank. He's buying a motorcycle.
He explained to Sara that he had one three years ago, and I closed my eyes. Has it really been three years since I've talked to him? Since we were all friends in Chemistry class. Since he stole the car and drove to St. George and lived on a couch for three months, at the age of 16.
Since Justin Wilson didn't know what hydrogen was. Since Jess Braiker became my subconscious and Brandon didn't know where he was when we were walking down the hall together.
Since pink hair, since Trevor barking orders at me, since after-school-time at Brian's museum. Since "Mrs.-how-many-of-you-get-this!?". Since Alison and our nightmares, and our good dreams.

It doesn't seem like that long ago that everyday was an adventure.
Maybe it's the rising temperatures.

something familiar
here's a follow up on my studio ramblings








respectively: the view from the studio, Collin's silhouette and the door that must remain open, and Kelsea in the glass box.

Life is very good today.

"Why does the door need to stay open?" I asked.
"Wait..." Kim holds up a finger, looking at Jonathan. "Wait for Jonathan's answer..."
He spins his chair around. "Have you ever blown into a coke bottle....? Well that's kind of the way this studio works...."

Recording at the studio is fun. It's like our yearly band roadtrip. We don't go anywhere, but we get a lot done, and we eat snacks, Steele dances a lot, and we really enjoy each other. And coffee.
I got this idea from Billy to make a mockumentary of us over the next few months, until we break up. It could be really funny. In fact, I think it would be hilarious, and I really want to do it. I just have to get everyone else to think it's a good idea too.

I met Lauren at Cafe Niche and had some amazing talk, and amazing Gazpacho.

I've been remembering this weird obsession with pain that I used to have three or four years ago, when I first started reading Hamlet. Through the months of feeling numb, I could almost find myself wanting the pain. Just wanting to feel something, so I could get it out and write it down. I figured the only well written pieces I'd ever read were built from pain. I figured that if anything had ever been done right, it was probably painful getting there.
I still don't know if that's true though.
I'm having a hard time believing truth lately. And the migraines make me want to chop my own head off. So, goodnight.

The neighbors are yelling at each other outside. I'm yelling at myself, inside. It's six thirty p.m.

Things seem a little bit out of control. Let it die let it die let it die let it die. Walk away. God's got it. All the bloody people who just keep coming around. They keep asking me for blood. I can't always handle it.
Someone funny. Someone angry. Someone playing the drums in the room. Someone playing her guitar in a glass box. Pieces of paint peeling off the wall, and you, you lovely, always shaking. I'm here holding the door, letting the cold air out. STOP STARING AT ME ACROSS THE ROOM. I don't have the guts to deal with that. Seven deadly sins. Several hours ago we were drinking coffee feeling fine. And now we're heartless. None. More.

"I've been very less anti soshe than I've been."
(That's Nanes for "I've been hanging out more lately.")

I wish I were a robot. Food never sounds good and sleep hasn't even been a possibility lately. If I were a kung fu ninja robot with a headband on, that'd be cool.

We remembered the steaks at the exact same time. I know, because he left the room to go get them from the grill, without a word. Sometimes we just stand in the kitchen for a lot of moments without words, he'd be washing dishes and I'd be texting, both of us just agreeing to listen to NPR without conversing. We'd laugh at the story, and he'd clue me in on what I'd missed when I was zoning out, and always I'd be drinking Pepsi, even though my love relationship with it has long been over.
At least we're eating again.

I'm bored of time off, I think. And I'm bored from keeping out of trouble. If I don't put my energy into something important, it'll get me right back into the fire that I just extinguished.

"when do you say it's up for grabs, and that you're on your way down, where does the good go?"
- tegan and sara

sipping shakespeare, reading coffee

Coffee cup number two. Does coffee make my room a little humid?
I met the beautiful Alison for breakfast, got my fingerprints taken by a grumpy lady policeofficer, and now I'm listening to Mary Ann meets the Gravediggers and other short stories by Regina Spektor. I'm not sure if I'm lucid. I might go back to bed. I've lost track of my sleep quota/bank. I thought I was sleeping in, but sleeping in isn't sleeping in anymore if you're out til three each morning.

"He was perfect, except for the fact that he was an engineer..."
-Regina Spektor

And here comes shallow admission number nine of my lifetime.

#9 - I would be pissed if my hair were this short when I died.

So I better not die tomorrow, yo.

Today though, I'm a business woman. Dressing in business outfits, driving downtown for business meetings. Taking drug tests, doing background checks. I've entered the world of the briefcase and tie, and I've left the world of wiping poopie butts. And I'm scared, but I'm excited.

"I never gain an ounce, you see, my anxiety works like aerobics. I never have to exercise."
-Woody Allen

I am a tired girl. I shouldn't even be up. I've been up close to twenty four hours hopping planes and band practices, and impromptu cake parties.

This morning, on my first flight (to Chicago), I got really excited. I love flying. Especially take off. I love the high speed rattling charge toward the end of the runway. Just like I always wonder if Elizabeth really will get together with Mr. Darcy, I always think we're not going to make it. How in the world do those things get off the ground? I like to pretend that we're not going to make it. I like to smile and picture us crashing into a million pieces. At the risk of sounding too Roald Dahl, it sounds like a sensational way to go. And then I look around and see the small children, and middle aged men who have families, and the fantasy slips away.
Whatev.
I like flying above the clouds, pretending it's the arctic. Every thing seems like a joke, seems like a fake from up there. Petty. Our little lives seem insignificant. But there is somehow this huge enourmous God that sees everything. The tiny specks make sense to Him, and they have souls.
Weird.

Band practice today was amazing. Yesterday I got really excited to play rock and roll again. I treasure even the practices now, because we have so few left.
No. I'm not turning into a sap. Not tonight.

The point is, life feels alive again. From the back of the boat, with wind blowing through my hair, life suddenly became alive to me again. And I'm going to hold onto that as long as I can.

"Well," she said, twisting some grass around in her hand, "Do you suppose that you can work those sort of things out?"
"What things?" I asked her.
"You know, like the little things that annoy me about him. The little things that annoy him about
me. Do you make it work, even when there are those things?"
"I think yeah. I think you can, but I don't know. I've never gotten that far," I admitted to this
wide-eyed girl in front of me. She looked away and took another drag of her cigarette.
I fell back, onto the grass. We were sitting out in the middle of a field, in the night. But the moon
illuminated everything. When I looked at her, I could see every sin of mine reflecting back at me. The lessons I've learned. I could see the last year of my life cut into strange sections, since I'd last seen her. I ignore her, some of the time, I think. Which is horrible, I thought, when she was being honest with me. Well, she gauges how much she can trust me after I've spilled the beans on my own life. I always go first with those truths, I think.
The moonlight.
"People have to work those things out," I said, finally. "Because if you love him, it's not going to
matter. You're going to love him for the good things."
"I hope so."

"Oh, goodmorning. Did you wear your bathing suit to bed too?"
-Johnny, slightly shocked that someone else does that

Why is making the right choice so much harder than just doing whatever the hell you feel like.

Come with me, says
a longhaired boy
shorthaired boy
a boy with a shag
he will always have tattoos
but one day his heart will
not be black
in nature
he is calm, hopeful
and genuine with me
come with me, he says
and forget your truths
you won't need to know the
truth where we are going
and as always
I don't answer him
Yes, Loser. Take me to the
very bottom of our
existence and let us hate
ourselves. I do this every week
with someone else.

What I learned today:
-paint stripper will melt a plastic dixie cup
-paint stripper is not what you use to get oil paints out of your paint brush.
-pain stripper will knock you out if you inhale the fumes.

I'm having a good time. The people here sure are nice, but my life is falling apart from 2500 miles away, and I've still got a week to go. But I trust that God is good. I'm looking at a 50% chance of being completely unemployed when I get home, which is scary, but because I've saved so much money this year (not having health insurance, we call that risky investing), I might be able to slide until something opens up.
I don't know. It makes me so nervous my stomach hurts, sometimes. But then I remember I'm on vacation. I should be enjoying myself. So I do.

I'm catching up on pilates, and painting. Two of my faves.

she's been here too few years
to take it all in stride

We were sitting on the cold floor, in the dark. I was eating beef-a-roni and watching her eat her goldfish, and we were hiding from Michael.
"If he sees us, he'll tell us it's not in the budget," she says, and I know it's true.
I know that it's over. And I know what it tastes like. We only have a few weeks left.

No, it's not really that bad. We've got the revolution medicine, and it's so strong. It's just hard.

I'm packing up, and the road has never looked so good. I'm just starting to feel amazing, so it's sad to leave, but this time I'm not going to come back a stranger.

Sleeping pills to sleep, waking pills to wake
Actually, tonight you should just read this.
It's good.
I didn't write it, and I don't agree with every single thing he says, but it always inspires me. And maybe you will see why I love this man?


Destroy your body at your own pace
by Dave Smallen

Our heartbeats are the tick of the death bomb's clock.
Living is a synonym for aging.
Each year we are stamped with a new number
to define our expectations, our capabilities, our desires.
Are we on par with all of our numeral-brethren?
Do we think, laugh, cry, walk, fuck, feel, breath, eat, shit, worry, sleep, love... all at the same rate as them?
Destroy your body at your own pace.
Are 27 well enjoyed years worth more than 72 cautious years?
Does it matter who knows your name?
The fundamentals don't change.
A lot who care a little are worth less
than a few who care unconditionally.
Sterilize. We are unfit for paternity.
(My head hurts)
Sleeping pills to sleep, waking pills to wake.
I want a red flannel shirt dyed with the blood of Kurdt Cobain.
My mind is not where my body is.
My mind itches.
We are slander written across the
entire inhabitable western tapestry.
Clichés are mostly true.
Nothing is concrete but everything is NOT relative.
Listen to others or don't, but don't listen to me.
Don't be a burden, don't burden yourself.
Many things can't be expressed with words,
- Listen to your gut.
(hear your father and mother)
Stop clenching your teeth. Never try not to think.
You'll always want more.
There is only such thing as self-education
- you learn what you want.
(Who remembers how to solve for x???).
Know the consequences to your actions!!!
Dance outside the bathroom door
- you owe nothing to the dance floor
you aren't a dancer. Its ok to be sad, sadness is clarity.
Be old in soul and young in heart.
Respect and listen.
Drive aimlessly.
Get drunk, get high, see a movie.
(the actor didn't write what he said).
Escape!!
Believe in perfection, accept imperfection.
Don't call back if you don't want to.
Don't string people along.
Singing heals.
Have nervous breakdowns.
Break nervously down.
Don't stop! Don't stop! Don't stop!
Be picky.
Be a hypocrite.
Forget who Paris Hilton and Thomas Jefferson are.
Kiss beneath monuments (fucking make out beneath monuments!!).
If you don't like where you live
- leave.
Don't tie yourself down,
Break ties.
Save your money,
sleep in your car,
stay up all night,
get out, get away!
Rationalize. Be irrational.
Explode.
Laugh!!!!
Trick yourself
- Smile!!!!!

This is where I went and met God tonight.

Got my head all cleared out. Breathed the clean air.
I do feel clean, in general.
I feel like there is nothing mucky in my life, and I feel like I'm moving on, I'm going forward, and nothing can stop me. I feel God's power and forgiveness.
I feel my new life all over again, sometimes.
Especially lying on warm concrete at night, staring up at the stars, and just being honest about things with my friends. I'd forgotten what honesty was, these past couple weeks, or months. I've been bottling it up and telling lies to get by.
But not now. I've got only so much time, and I'm gonna use it for what needs to be done.

no more second guessing

"Na na na na," I was singing, like a three year old, pouring cranberry juice in the kitchen when Dr. Furious walks by. He is moving fast, but he has just enough time to give me a glare that's so cold it makes my bones ache. A four second memory of him yelling at me creeps up...
And then I laughed. He's just a stupid doctor, with his head inflated so big that he has to yell at nurses and CNAs to feel powerful.

I have an interview Thursday. I'm listening to Golden Shoulders. And an hour long phone call might have just saved my life.
Yes, life is good.

And

T-minus 5 days til I get myself out of here and back on the road.

I'm gonna get me a little oblivion, Baby

Today I drove for the first time, and it's a very sobering thing.
I registered for classes, which is exciting, I guess.
But I got a migraine, again. The headaches are back.
Sometimes I think I love Amerge more than anything. It's expensive, but worth it, in some ways. While it has never let me down, it does have weird side effects like really low blood pressure (can't feel my hands and feet), and nose bleeds.
But it's worth it, when you're thinking about chopping off your own head. ANYTHING is worth it, at that point.

I feel like I'm made out of a pool. Goodnight.

"No, pork chops are good for you."
"Really? I thought all parts of the pig were bad."
"Well, ham is not so good."
"And bacon. And sausage."
"Ah yes, sausage. The presentation there is awful."

-Natalie said that last part. In her Honduran accent.

my thoughts on eating dirt

A lot of bad things have happened the past couple of days, but I guess that you just gotta keep waking up every morning and you still need to brush your teeth four times a day.
My fantasy life has gone from time spent with rockstars to wondering what exactly is still in the back of my truck's cab. Wondering what clothes are back there, and if a purple man with a really huge lip has been rummaging through bungie cords and old photographs I tried to forget.
I didn't sleep last night.
I won't sleep tonight.
And I must go on standing, with my smug smile. I'm reciting memorized lines to get me through the hours of daylight.



"You have very small hands, Alex."
"Well, I guess I'm just a really small girl."

poker face

I found a whole family of quail living in my bushes out front. I got really excited, and much to the momma quail's chagrine, I picked up one of the babies and just about ate it, it was so cute. I thought about keeping it, but I felt bad. I knew it would miss it's family, so I let it go and walked away.

My heart started beating really hard again. I thought that it had mostly stopped in November, but I lie in bed some nights and feel it pounding against my skin. My heart is a bass drum. How fitting.

Today I took a man with one leg out to smoke. Sometimes I get really ticked off at patients who have to smoke. I grind my teeth as we're waltzing down the hall and think that, if these people are going to be in the hospital, it's a good time to quit smoking. (tangent number nine: it's also a good idea to stop being picky about water. If you can't be happy with tap water, Dasani can be good enough. My lord, you can't be picky about what type of bottled water you're drinking when you are in the hospital with appendicitus).
But usually by the time I get to the elevator I've mellowed out a little bit, and I realize that when you're going through something that is bad enough to put you in the hospital, maybe you deserve to get out and have a smoke now and then. Even though it's hugely out of the way for us.
So I took this one-legged man out for a smoke. He smoked two different kind of cigarettes, and we talked about different states, and where we'd traveled. I told him I was born in Iowa.
"I would like to go to Iowa," he said, narrowing his eyes and staring off into the distance. I almost burst into laughter. Good. Good for you, Mister.
A whitebread couple and their whiny son walked past us. They wouldn't look us in the eyes. And for a minute I got all defensive of my one legged patient who smelled like a firepit. "Just because he's smoking, and he's dirty, and he's wearing a combat jacket doesn't mean you shouldn't say hi!" I thought. And then I realized I was a complete hypocrite.
Like usual.

I spent 8 hours today babysitting an alcoholic that didn't need supervision that much. We watched the same episode of The Starter Wife three times, because we kept missing parts of it, and we were bored. But I still don't even understand the plot. Ah well. I got paid to watch t.v. all day with someone I didn't have to speak to. And that's pretty good, if you ask me.

take it easy (love nothing)

"and it isn't so hard to get close to me,
there'll be no arguments, we'll always agree.
And I'll try to be kind, when I ask you to leave,
we'll both take it easy."
-Bright Eyes


Sometimes, I think during or after the "persevering through trials" phase, I revert to my workaholic self. By tomorrow afternoon, I will have worked 46 hours this week, and picked up two shifts that I wasn't scheduled for. It's nice, sometimes, to just pour into all that, to take my mind off of things, but I become somewhat mechanical. Work, sleep, video games, Scrubs, Bible, coffee. A machine. I've turned into a machine. The only person I ever talk to anymore is girl-Alex, my brother, and dog-Jack. I crack jokes that only I'm laughing at, and dreamily look at pictures of places I will never go.
But I'm happy enough for me. I'll see Lauren today, give blood, and go to Hayden's party. And it's really okay.
One day, I'll take all this money, and I'll go somewhere.
Away from the things of man.

"Now, Rachel...that's a Biblical name," he said, twitching slightly.
"Yep, it sure is," I replied, sticking a thermometer in his ear.
"Yeah, Rachel and Leah. Do you know that story?" He asked
"Yes, I do. Very well."
"Rachel married-?"
"Jacob."
"Yes, and how many years did he work for her?" I felt like I was in Sunday school again, back in the Holiday Inn in Fort Collins, peering from the 7th floor window.
"He worked seven years," I told Russ.
"Ah, yes. Seven years. Not many men would do that nowadays, would they? Do you think any men would do that nowadays?" He asked me, squinting one eye, his foot falling off the bed consistently in his fever-state.
I thought about his question for a minute before I answered. I pretended I was charting some stuff, and I sighed. That's an interesting question for me, because I know so many good boys who will probably go to great lengths to "woo" their future wives. And my girls deserve it more than any other girls I know. But seven years. Sometimes I have no faith left in all that.
I closed my eyes for a second.
"No, I don't think they would, Russ."
"Hmmm..." the 71-year-old lawyer pondered. "Seven years is a long time."
I felt bad for a little bit that I told him no. I wondered what his real whole story was, and we talked about that for a little while. He told me about going to Chile and Argentina, and being fluent in Spanish. I think, sometimes, that I am so privileged to work with old people. Because they have the real stories. They worked hard. No matter how cool our generation is, most of the time, I enjoy sitting down and having a talk with guys like Russ, because I've heard most of the rock-star stories by now.
Maybe, maybe not.


I've been thinking about loopholes tonight. Whole websites dedicated to Redbox codes, so you don't have to ever pay for new rentals. Loopholes at my work, like, say you get put on call at 5am, and Chelsey calls in at 5:30 saying she's sick, I get paid time and a half just to work a shift I was scheduled for anyway.

I got a tetanus shot, and my arm feels like it got chopped with a butcher knife. In case you needed a visual.

"the sweet turning sour and untouchable"
-natalie merchant

I spend all my time on Flickr now, to tell you the truth. Quitting MySpace has addicted me to other people's photography on the other side of the world. Oh man.

johanna's face

johanna's face
Originally uploaded by missjennypenny

I'm pretty pleased with myself that my parents' phone has wrung four times in the last two hours, and I have answered it none of them. Each ring tends to grind my flesh, and I sit there smacking my head til the ringing stops, and inevitably, nobody was calling because nobody leaves a message. I feel very little guilt, sipping my cup of coffee at 7:49, because if it were important, they would leave a message.

Recent nice things: ( a list for old times' sake)
- I got to help in a sterile procedure to put a PICC line in a patient today. The sort of stuff that made me want to be a nurse in the first place. A PICC line deserves a lengthy explanation, but this is a list, dang it.
- Yesterday I made cookies with Lauren and walked Oscar for an hour. We played funny board games made out of pigs, and Dax gave me a whole bunch of watercolor paper. (very nice,
Gina)
- listening to new bands and old bands
- eating junk food
- reading and writing

I'm actually sort of looking forward to this fall semester, which is new for me.

"Every day spent with you is like having a cesarean section."
-Me talk pretty one day, David Sedaris

Initially, I was quite a bit sad when they removed the arm. The left arm. They wanted me to still be able to write, so they took the left one.

I always was fond of it though. The elbow, the fingernails. One is often fond of their own left arm. Even, sometimes, they are fond of other people's left arms.

The doctor stood with his hands in his pockets, like he was prone to. He told me that, there would be the fantom pains, and of course, the prosthetic to get used to. I nodded solemnly and turned the volume down on the t.v.

"We took some pictures, of your arm, even. In case you'd want to remember," he told me. I shivered slightly.

"I already have pictures of me with my old arm. A lot."

"Well, you know. These ones are the last."

"I think that they would hurt more than help, at this point, Dr. Roberts," I told him. To this, he nodded solemnly. Then he pretended like he was getting paged, and took his leave.

I stared down at where I once had an arm, and I felt something of a mourning for it. More importantly though, how would I look without an arm? How would I do dishes? Text messaging? Tree climbing?

This would all have to be thought through. Yes. This was the beginning of my evil plan.

Only the beginning.

she never would be, the places she oughtta

she said she was in love with dying. the very thought of a vacation
said she was never so poetic
as the moment wore on.
she was quiet like fire
Her face was a mess and she screamed out "God I'm tired of thinking," because she forgot that I was near. Her feelings were a shot gun that she would try out and her face was a language she wanted to learn but couldn't bring herself to look in the mirror.
"Maybe I'm just damn scared," she thought and told me that she fell in love like she was comitted
to accidents and weather, and
she couldn't tell me why or how or what she was exactly trying to say. I didn't catch her name but she was in a state of perplexion like her hair was brown and
her stance was
unsettled.

"She never was, the places she oughtta, but that doesn't stop her."
-Spoon


I carry flashcards to remember who I am.

I was on my way to Holladay, but I stopped to drop my sister off at the Roberts, and of course Jeremy popped his head out the door and yelled, "Hey, do you have like five minutes?" and I said yes, knowing that it wouldn't be five minutes, and I'd probably end up standing in their hall way where he would ask me something like, "Does this watch make me look fat?"

But when I walked in the door, he was on the computer, jamming to Van Halen for reasons unknown, and Aimee was on her computer, smiling at me. Jeremy never gets to the point before he offers you a drink and possibly something to eat. (I think that is a really good characteristic to have) And even after you have a drink, he probably still won't get to the point for a good forty five minutes. And so we sat around listening to music until Aimee finally got to the point for him. She needed some help picking music for her slide show for Ladies' Night, and help finding pictures. So we worked on that for a bit, and ate popcorn, and just had fun like we did in the old days when we had subtle parties. Noah waltzed through the room wearing a prom dress with Sophie, and then five minutes later was walking up the stairs wearing only underpants. Bowl of icecream in his hands. The small things in life.
"It's really good to see you," Aimee told me, and it was really genuine. And I realized, after these few days of reminiscing, that even when you leave your old life behind, its always waiting for you with open arms if it was any good in the first place.