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.