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.