My TV Broke…I wrote a poem…and some other stuff.

So, it’s been awhile since I’ve gotten lost in my thoughts. So here goes some rambling.

I used to really love music. And not like oh cool EDM song. I mean I used to get lost in a good melody and lyrics that wrapped me up in my thoughts. Spotify is amazing. I know, I’m late to the game. But it is AMAZING! I feel like a teenager getting impressed by TRL. Except, you know, better tunes. Although, weren’t the 90’s great? Anyways, my TV broke on Tuesday. I spent the last two days re-watching Gilmore girls on Netflix. On my computer. And I watched it totally undistracted. I skipped around some boring episodes. I’m on season 7. The worst season. But tonight, I got bored. I turned on the tunes. I’ve really missed GOOD music. I don’t have satellite radio so, it’s the radio or my iTunes library because I really don’t want to use my data for my daily commute.

I got the urge to read a book tonight. I mean I read all the time. But not from a real book. And not totally undistracted. Not in awhile, probably not since college. Actually, probably before the internet. Then I thought, no, no, I need to write.

I write poetry nobody reads. I mean I mostly do it for me. And I have been “writing” a book for years. I would like to say it’s somewhere near done but it’s not. I want it to be, but for some reason putting pen to paper is tough for me. What am I so worried about? I’m not THAT bad. I’m pretty bad at spelling and my grammar usage is questionable. I mean I really suck at when I use commas and semicolons. I’m pretty sure if this piece were on BUZZFEED the grammar nazis everywhere would crucify me. That’s why they make editors right? Anyways, I’m rambling. The point is I love to write and I’ve been pretty absent from doing what I love. Like, it’s been at least 4 years since I’ve really dedicated an entire night to my craft. That was so sad to type.

What have I been doing? Watching WAY to much TV. Why? Probably, because it’s easy. I also have been working…A LOT! If I’m not slinging lattes…I’m coaching or watching copious amount of TV. I have so many dreams. So many things to do. Why am I hiding behind lattes and Television?

My cat and live in my parents basement. Read through my blog…the reason is in there somewhere. It’s not so bad. I mean who doesn’t love free housing and home cooked meals. But ugh, I’m undesirable. I am 29, living in my parents basement. At least I’m gainfully employed. But now, that I’ve climbed out of my doldrums I’ve got no excuse right?

Sometimes I wish I could live on a island, sell hats, and write poetry next to the ocean. That’s where I belong. Next to the ocean. To quote my favorite band of 10th grade, Everclear, “we could live beside the ocean, leave the world behind. Swim out past the breakers and watch the world die.” See, probably the most inappropriate use of commas ever.

Here’s a poem to leave you with:

It’s silly.
This moment is silly.
You were never supposed to be here.
I am.
But not you.

It’s sad,
because I thought you were
you’re not supposed to be here.

I wish you were but-
the 6 drinks I had
and the 15 beers you had;
meant nothing.

Don’t worry, I got the tab.

You’ll pay me back in
unanswered texts and
other girls numbers-
and I won’t get mad;
when you’re 3 hours late.

Don’t worry-
I got it.
We’re even.

I don’t even care that
I’m ruined.
Trust no one.
Thanks.You’re swell.

Just like that night-
Florida moon,
I made a mistake.
You never forgave me.
But hey, don’t worry.
I forgive you all the time.

Remember when we drove
all night.
We got milkshakes.
I smiled.
You wanted to ‘be adventurous.’
I fell for it-
for you.

Don’t worry, I know
It meant nothing.
Don’t worry, I got it.
This one’s on me.

Don’t worry, I know
just friends.
Don’t worry, I know
the time you slurred
‘I love you.’
6 drinks…15 beers…

I know, don’t worry.
I got this one.
It’s on me.

stage 3

Growing up is a phrase I think we all take for granted. I thought I was finished “growing up” when I got the big girl job with the apartment and a cat. I had great friends and a pretty good life. But then the bottom dropped out. Through a series of weird, unfortunate events I had to move back in with my parents and live in the basement with my cat. I lost all my friends and had to start over. Yes, I still have that “big girl job” and I have the wardrobe of one also. I have always prided myself in being independent. I do what I want, with whoever I want, whenever I want. I have lived this mantra to the fullest. But lately I have noticed I’m extremely unhappy. At first I thought it was because of the obvious I was living in my parent’s house. But then I thought, I pay no bills and I don’t have to cook, I don’t even have to go grocery shopping or budget for anything outside of my school loan payments and the remainder of my payments from my apartment. I have never had this much spending money. I can eat out whenever I want and update my wardrobe weekly. It’s not money that stresses me out these days. I think it’s more or less the fact that I’m in a job where I am unsatisfied. I’m a writer. But this “big girl job” is not what I want to do forever. Or even more than a few years. Would it be crazy to just quit and commit to writing? I would have zero income…actually I would go back to coaching full time, but that would only be enough to cover my student loans. But really, would it be crazy? I miss my craft. I miss only worrying about my work. I worry about someone else’s dream 60 hours a week…why? For the house? The car? The life? Well to be honest, I’d rather be happy then anything else. And I’m not. I want to move to the beach and have been steadily working towards this goal for months and if I quit my job I’m not sure I can do that. I’m at a very important crossroads and I don’t want to stay at it long, I want to make the right decision. I’m just not sure if I want to make the “smart choice” or do what my heart says is the only way I’m going to be satisfied. I’m not sure if I should put my dreams on hold a little bit longer just so I don’t drown. Life is worth living…this I know. I think it’s time I start living it.

yea, I am a bitch sometimes

So tonight, I went to the movies with some new friends. It was cool but kind of awkward in the beginning. I am a runner from anything that would be safe. I like dangerous, tumultuous, drama filled relationships. Why? I have no idea. But I do. And it makes meeting people very difficult. I put on this ridiculous front of straight up bitchiness and I try to find my inner Kinickie. Why not Danny? Well duh, a hickey from Kinickie is like a hallmark card. HA. I know I know, I find this weird wall building tough guy relevant because I do not like to be vulnerable I hate being out of control. Tonight, I was certainly not going down any romantic paths with anyone but the inner bitch came out. I saw myself being this awful mean person and I hated it. Why?

On the way home I decided that I didn’t care. I mean I think I’m pretty awesome and yea I’m a handful but who cares! This is who I am…and if you don’t like it then fuck off.

I am really not a bitch but this guy just triggered it in me. I haven’t been that fake in a long time but you know what? He’s probably not worth it. And actually, it felt good to be back. Because I’m worth a trip through the bullshit if you choose to take it. I am attracted to men who see a challenge and accept it. Because I would take that trip if I thought they were worth it. Easy is boring.

This is probably why I’ll be single forever.

the internet ruins everything

Im so glad there was no twitter or Facebook or any other social media as we know it today when 9/11 happened.

I know I can see the many benefits during the act itself. Could people have better reached their loved ones aboard the planes? Could there have been instagrams of the hijackers? Could some of that days tragedy been prevented? Honestly, I don’t know. But I do know that as someone who lives in the DC area and has a father who was working on a project at the pentagon during that time, it was scary.

I was in Latin class. We didn’t have smart boards, or smart phones. There was no such thing as texting in class. That was new and cost extra to have. I could only text 50 messages a month. Surely would not waste a precious text in class…I’ll just pass a note. I remember I was flirting with Jake Hull. He’s a dreamy musician now. He gave me a mix cd. It was High School love. That was the diamond ring of presents. Sadly Mr. Hull is engaged these days. I still think his mix cd is pretty rad. Anyways, a kid from my class who was a goody two shoes was pulled. I don’t remember his name. But I do remember someone whispering about a plane hitting the twin towers. I was thinking a small plane people fly on sunny days, not a commercial 757. I remember being nonchalant about the whole thing at first. Then the announcements came on. We were all being sent home. I was a junior and could drive. So I drove straight home. Terrified. Watching the skies. I had never felt so unsafe in my life. We were not in school for an entire week. There was a no fly zone for a month over DC. The first day I saw planes…I watched in silent fear to make sure it didn’t come crashing down on me while I drove to school.

I can’t speak for NY or even people who actually live in DC. I live in a suburb about 20 miles from DC. I was clearly safe from danger on that day. At the time, no one knew what was going on, but we were addicted to the TV. I remember the week vividly. 9/11 happened on a Tuesday. I was stressed about a test. It was a gold day. My easy day. Jake was wearing a Tye-dye shirt. I had on a hideous khaki floor length skirt and a brown shirt. When I got home my father was there, and my siblings were on their way home. That Friday, I was physically exhausted from watching 9/11 coverage 24-7. The images were awful. I watched the towers fall millions of times. I will never forget that day or that image or the woman crying as she watched the 2nd plane hit in a now famous picture that was splashed across every paper.

This week I have seen images of injuries that I would imagine only soldiers and war torn countries see. Countries that see bombings all the time. I was horrified by the events in Boston. Then enthralled in reading every tiny bit of information about the suspects and the chase that seemed better than any movie. I did not know anyone at the marathon. I was not there. I have no connections to Boston. But I do know what its like to be on lockdown. To be terrified that some evil is going to happen to you or someone you love because of geography. I live the DC/Metro area. Our local news is national news. I can say that I am not impressed by clearance or DOD jobs because they come a dime a dozen. I along with New Yorkers can sympathize with Boston. We know the pain. We know the weirdness. We know what its like to go to a parade or festival and have equal guests as there is security. But why must we obesses. I don’t want to know about these brothers.

I don’t care about their schooling, their friends, their family. I don’t want to see anymore videos or pictures. I just want to move on. I can say with confidence Boston marathoners and victims and citizens feel that ten fold. I want to hear about hope, I want to read about what is going to be done to make this never happen again. I want to know about the very important issue of gun control. Because this is too much violence. I was in Roanoke, VA during the VT shootings. The DC sniper was in my town. I had to walk zig zagged and terrified into every public establishment for months. I am 27 years old. This is too much.

I realize this violence is nothing as to what is in Palestine, Israel, Iraq, Kabul, China, North Korea, etc. I realize we Americans are pretty lucky to live the life we do. But it is still an immortal fear that is becoming a fixture in our lives. I remember the terror levels of the Bush years and the immediate feeling of relief when we went from red to orange. I don’t remember it ever lowering beyond orange. Our world is unsafe. And the internet makes that very real. In 2001, it was our trusted news anchors guiding us through pages of misinformation. Today, we have Glen Beck and Fox News giving us misinformation because they have a twitter. And the internet is right. Well news outlets, its not. Its wrong and we can’t trust it anymore. I want to move on. I want to read about other things in the world. I want to know when our gun laws are going to change. I want know actual information. I don’t want my fear to be fed. That is all the internet is doing for us. Sure, it brought together massive information for a manhunt, but it never loosened its grip on us afterwards. We are deflated now. Waiting for the next big story.

I think of George Orwell’s 1984, and Fahrenheit 451…we don’t even know what we are watching and why it matters but it enthralls us. It is shallow and often meaningless. But we search and dissect it. We even make up meaning in something as mundane as the President playing with the family dog. We have made our world unsafe. We have made it untrustworthy and meaningless. This is the problem with the relationship between us and the internet.

Problems are good right?

I think that due to recent tumultuous issues I have been thinking only about work. Which lead work to be well stressful. So maybe we should look at life like a liberal arts education. I took my goal this year to improve my relationships. I think I’ve been doing a good job in making new friends. At least I’m trying. But Damn, this is hard. I don’t do well with opening up. I mean sure, I’m a people person. I will talk to a wall if it will listen but I am feeling like I’m missing something. Sure, I’ve put up with a whole 5 years of abusive friendships with needy people that make me sick to my stomach when I think about it…so I don’t ever. But why did I let them abuse me for so long? Seriously. Its the worst feeling in the world to realize something that you treasured and kept close to your heart didn’t give a damn about you. To have to forget vacations, and 5 years of memories. It’s debilitating. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about something we did together. But that is now a closed chapter I guess. Time to move on. As Jay-Z says: I can move forward the only direction can’t be scared to fail Search and perfection Gotta keep it fresh even when we sexing but don’t be mad at him when he’s on to the next one.

Yes, I heart Jay-Z. Don’t judge me.

Back to the “arts.” I have a lot of books, and most of them are poetry books and anthologies. I have a short attention span so I read a lot of different things at the same time. I was looking at my book shelf and boy do I have quite the eclectic taste. I mean would be lying if I said I read all of them but I will one of these days. Just like I will find someone to replace that guy that took up so much of my time with someone better. I just need to be open about what’s out there. I don’t need to date them all but I can dabble in a few and really get into one if I like it.

As my favorite urban poet Saul Williams says: And these tu lips/ might soon eclipse/ your brightest hopes.

I’m going to hang onto that.