nothing at all, my legs are just fine and dandy.

 A weed is a plant that has mastered every survival skill
except for learning how to grow in rows.

-Doug Larson

the mystery of the etsy package continues.

 Therapist made a good analogy today. I was talking about how I love it when my PT talks about how they can tell I used to do dance and ballet because it's been 25 years since I performed. And she pointed out how that's muscle memory because I did it for so long. She said that the same thing happens with our trauma. When someone tells me that something is going to change, I assume it's because I did something wrong not because of what other shit might be going on.

That was eye opening. She said that I need to remember how hard these battles are for me when I start getting down on myself for not meeting the impossible standards I've set.

okay but do you remember that part in the Lion King super nintendo game where you're supposed to ride giraffes and jump over trees or some shit and it was the most rage inducing experience of your early childhood?

because I do. Every swear word I'd ever learned came out about the 3546851th time I had to start over.

a little livin, a little lovin, and a whole lotta dead

courtesy; bomb.girls (tv show)

it was bill murray.

 why do I like to listen to breakup songs so much when I'm in a good mood?

Today while kneeling down to plug in my fancy new bug zapper I temporarily forgot that squatting is not an ideal position for Maxine, as she is not currently retain the capability to leverage my Disney mom ass off the floor. Realizing my predicament I was stuck in this insanely awkward squatting position where I was leaning more onto leftie so it reminded me of a dance or gymnastics position. And I forgot to add that this was in a small area between all my plants and the table. It was fun.

Anywho, unnecessarily long story short, it took me three tries before I figured out how to get off the floor. But I did it. 

got stuck on the floor

aggressive victories

you're a drama queen in every scene, perfectly out of place.

and it all comes down to you

well, you know that it does and

lightning strikes maybe once, maybe twice

oh and it lights up the night

and you see your gypsy

to the gypsy

that remains

her face says freedom

with a little fear

i have no fear

have only love

and if i was a child

and the child was enough

enough for me to love

enough to love

she is dancing away from you now

she was just a wish

and her memory is all that is left for you now

you see your gypsy

My playlist is all over the place today. I just skipped through like 10 songs and the one that caught my earball was Pearl Jam (Even Flow). I says to myself, "really? this is really what you want?" and myself says, yep. So here I sit, looking up lyrics to Even Flow then realizing they're oddly appropriate. 

I'm trying this new journal thing to get my brainbox juices flowing. Typing out a blurb of what pops in my head when I listen to a song. 

Crazy For this Girl; Evan & Jarron

Two girls at the car wash. She pulls up and rolls the window down because the jocks two bays over have their R&B turned up too loud. The blonde girl walks up to the window and leans in, feeling a blast of cold hair and cigarette smoke blow her hair back.

    "Hey, lemme hit that," she said, reaching in to take the cigarette. The brown haired girl's heart started pumping as the blonde curls brushed against her cheek. She has no idea, the brown haired girl thought with a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. And even if she did, she'd prolly stop hanging out with me and that would suck. I don't know how she hasn't figured it out yet though. I'm crazy for this girl...

think i need a devil to help me get things right.

spring got my crooked side feeling all twitterpated, that's why I started writing that ww2 story; I'm trying to work through it lol

Can we talk about the fact that I have 10 years
worth of journal playlists in my Spotify account? 

Today's Finch affirmation:: "I bring sunshine wherever I go." HAH that's awesome. 

Fuck, I'm lonely. It's just me, myself, and I...

But it's my fault. I know I shouldn't drunk text her, but I'm going to anyway. Fingers numbed with whisky dug through the giant shoulder bag until they found the square flip phone. Her thumb ran over the familiar ridge of the button on the front. She nudged the lid open with her thumb and blinked bleary eyes at the brightness. Scroll, scroll, scroll. There's Her name. The brown haired girl blinked dramatically, her bleary eyes struggling to focus. She typed,
    "You got me sayin fuck, I'm lonely. I miss those nights when you would come over. What you up to tonight?" Send. She felt the button softly click under her finger. She snapped the phone shut and dropped it in her bag. Oh shit what did I just do. 
    "Well fuck," the brown haired girl said, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. Pushing open the lid she looked inside distractedly, making a face when she saw there were only a few left. The lighter flicked and the flame sprung to life. The cigarette paper made a soft crunchy sigh as the fire touched it and as the brown haired girl sucked on the filter the end of the cigarette glowed brighter. She should probably get up and mingle a little, she was starting to get sleepy sitting in one place too long and she didn't want to pass out at this party. She was in a part of town she wasn't overly familiar with and the people she had came with were mostly using her for a ride, so she couldn't count on them to help her get home. She looked at her watch, 11:57pm. Damn, she had to be home at 1:00 for curfew and really wanted some tacos.
    The brown haired girl decided to make one more lap through the party to finish her beer then she'd leave. She wove her way between groups of people and realized she was running out of people to talk to and the buzz was starting to make her sleepy. She leaned against the wall for a minute to let her eyes roam the room, looking for the girls she'd arrived with. No where to be found.
    "Peace out girl scouts," she mumbled to the room in general, not bothering to make eye contact with anyone as she dug in the bag for her keys. She made her way through the back door into the dark night sky, dotted with stars and the brisk air hit her. The quiet outside was jarring compared to the chaos in the house. The Halloween costume she was wearing was getting uncomfortable and the layers of tights and fishnets were making her legs itch. She stumbled her way down the long driveway and, shivering, fumbled her key into the lock. Once in the car she let out a sigh of satisfaction and after turning over the ignition she shimmied out of the layers of tights and slipped into a pair of sneakers. She pulled the car blanket from the passenger seat to wrap herself in while the car warmed up. 
    As the car idled loudly she flipped down the sun visor and sorted through her CDs. After selecting a scratched up burned CD with the title STUPID TITLE I USED ONCE written on it in sharpie. She popped open the lid of the CD player and swapped the ALBUM for the burned one. The lid closed and the brown haired girl pushed play. The number flickered on the screen then died. UGH, the brown haired girl exclaimed. She expertly popped the lid battery lid off the back of the CD player and removed the AA batteries. She rubbed them quickly between her hands to warm them up so they would work. After about a minute she re-inserted the batteries and pushed the tape adaptor into the deck. The stereo blared on SONGLYRICS and the girl smiled with satisfaction. As she reached for the gearshift she felt her phone buzz. 
    She grabbed at it, fumbling the thing between the seats. She sighed resignedly and rolled her eyes, scooting her seat all the way up to grope blindly for the fucking thing. She flipped open the phone. 
    "Leaving That Boy's party now to make curfew, what're you doin?"
    The brown haired girl smiled, trying not to get her hopes up and telling the bubbles in her stomach to calm down. 
    "Headed to Taco Ding Dong from Football Player's party then home. You should come to my house and eat some with me lol."
    "Oh that sounds good, I bet my mom would let me stay at her house if I called her now. I'll call you in a few minutes."
    The brown haired girl felt her heart pounding in her chest. She knew better than to expect anything. This was her best friend, after all. They'd never been anything more than that... except for those times that they were. Which always happened when they'd been drinking. She sighed again and reached for her cigarette before putting the car into reverse and turning the stereo up.

courtesy; murder.by.death/fleetwood.mac/evan&jarron./foo.fighters/bilmuri/stand.atlantic/

she said shut up and dance with me.

Junior high kids standing across from each other on the dance floor. Everything moved in slow motion, she could feel the drop in her stomach and her mouth started sweating. She started to slow down, hesitating. He was walking towards her, right? Not the person behind her? She tried to casually look over her shoulder, but instantly knew it was not casual at all and probably looked super awkward. She kept walking, and so did he. After what felt like eventually they met, not in the middle of the floor. More stage left. 

    "Hi," he whispered. 
    She licked her lips. "Hi."

    Awkward pause.

    "Do you uh... wanna dance?" she asked, raising her eyebrow. The moment was loaded, it felt like the weight of it kept pressing in on her in waves. He smiled softly and nodded. She took a step forward and they both raised their arms. 

    "Uh," he said. 
    She giggled, stepping in closer, leaning in close enough that their bodies touched briefly, then took a step back and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I think you're supposed to put them around my waist. At least that's what everybody else is doing," she said shrugging. He wrapped his arms around her waist, wishing he was brave enough to lean in to feel the warmth of her, but he panicked last minute and jerked back suddenly.

    Her face registered confusion and he tried to cover the moment with laughter. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Thought I saw a fly." His brows furrowed as soon as the words came out of his mouth. A fly? What? Who would believe that? So dumb.

    She smiled anyway, which surprised him and just nodded. They swayed sort of to the beat of the slow song and struggled to decide if they should talk. Or make eye contact. Her hands were sweating. So were his. He wondered if he could quietly wipe them on the back of her dress and if she would notice. Would it leave sweaty handprints? It was a white dress, maybe he shouldn't. This thought made him clasp his hands tighter so he wouldn't do this on accident. She looks so pretty, he thought. I don't want to mess that up.

You know what I'm still mad about? That M---- dumped me at the dance in junior high because a jealous girl lied to him and said I kissed C---- in the bathroom at my after dance party. *sobs* He found out the truth later though, so that was a relief hahaha. 

He and I had a weird relationship... Junior high sweethearts, didn't talk to each other much for years, then we started hanging out in our 20's and he stepped on my glasses and had to buy me new ones (which I still have) then... all those other things. And now he's gone. That sucks man. I wrote him a letter when I was at Grandma's. i wonder if he got it? 

aw man... I don't wanna be sad today. 

i tried breathing underwater to drown out the doubt.

am i an imposter or

just a good liar for no good reason?

think we got a problem now

symptom of a bad fallout, glitter's fading

i can't believe i became the disease

and the snakes that sing are learning to scream in my dreams

that they dragged through the dirt, now painted in hurt

my lungs are filling with the sea

i tried breathing underwater to drown out the doubt

i cracked under the pressure and nearly bled out

you said you'd always save me, so where are you now?

feels like i'm failing, i'm dancing while drowning alone

feeling self-conscious now

overthinking but out loud, screams in silence

always overcompensate

in this world, i can't relate, need some guidance

i open my mouth, but the words don't come out

and the deepest blue sinks in me so low

can't control my self-doubt that i hold, its touch is so cold

these waves are crashing down on me

i tried breathing underwater to drown out the doubt

i cracked under the pressure and nearly bled out (nearly bled out)

you said you'd always save me, so where are you now?

feels like i'm failing, i'm dancing while drowning alone

Sometimes my fear of disappointing or hurting others is the only thing that keeps me here. The thin threads that tie my feet to the earth. I used to stay for my grandma, but now she's gone.

But there are still people in my life who would suffer if I left. So I won't.

Doesn't mean that the ties don't sometimes feel like they're slipping...

I'm fine really, it's okay. I just.... have to wait it out. It'll pass and I'll be fine.

I made a cool journal playlist today. Funny, making playlist journals is one of the easiest ways for me to communicate how I'm feeling. Now some of them are silly and only have a few songs on them, I didn't put much effort into it. But for the ones I hyperfocused on, and spent all day perfecting, are the ones that convey my internal.-ness better than my words can most times. I share them sometimes, to give someone a chance to listen to how I really feel, but I doubt anyone takes the opportunity. I don't know that I would if someone else posted it. Maybe. Depends on the day and my mood I suppose, as so many things do.

I smiled when I realized that it's like I'm making mix tapes for... someone. I don't know who they're for. Future me I suppose. I like looking back at all the playlists, starting as far back as 2015. Even my paper journals had songs of the day, or doodles of lyrics everywhere. I started keeping a paper journal again, so I can write those things down. It's comforting to have it; I get inspiration from all my random scribbles. I even drew a couple things... which I'm terrible at drawing so I don't like to do. I typically get the cringe memory embarrassment when I look back and see how terrible they are. Which, when you think about it is kinda silly. I'm the only one that loks at them lol. I digress. I ended up drawing a woman's face but couldn't get the eyes so I drew a blindfold over them. I wasn't even paying attention really, just doodling while I watched TV; I think it was The Newsroom. But the final product was a girl/woman/female with short hair rocking a blindfold. The inspiration was strange too. I don't know what I was originally trying to doodle, but my brain saw it and said "oo make that a lip". So then I spent forever trying to draw something that semi resembled a mouth. Well then I had to give it a face, obviously. So now I'm overthinking it, y'know. Like why did my subconscious tell me to draw that? Probably just going with whatever shapes were easiest to draw, let's be real haha. I am no great artiste by any stretch of the imagination. People always interpret my weirdness as artistic... this is not true. 

I've been sad this week. Like a lot sad. Like maybe should probably text Therapist, but maybe also it's not necessary I can wait it out. Anyway. Yesterday I had a moment where all I wanted was a sip of whisky. I was crying and holding Miracle Bear and the urge hit hard. However, I have a strict rule that says I am not allowed to drink if I'm upset. I set a boundary; once I calm down and it's been at least 20 minutes if I still want the drink I can have it. I rarely ever want it after that. Related note; I gave up alcohol for Lent. Anyway. I also have the rule for smoking. So no mind altering substances in response to a painful stimulus. Insert a delay of minimum of 20 minutes which starts once I demonstrate calm body. (This is actually a terrible operational definition, far too subjective. What exactly is a 'calm body/?) nerd. Anywayyyyy. I substituted the intoxicants for water and ended up chugging my entire water cup. New strat unlocked.

i just don't understand how you can

smile with all those tears in your eyes

some days i hate everything

please don't tell me everything is wonderful now

odds are long, so why not play?   

courtesy; hot.milk/everclear/barenaked.ladies/

i'm sad today.

 

you know you got to go through hell 
before you get to heaven

Ani DiFranco came on, Not a Pretty Girl, which used to be one of my sad drunk anthems. I remember sitting in the doorway between my bedroom and bathroom in the duplex and belting out this song through tears. I can still feel the carpet under my fingertips... Funny, I still identify with the song, but a different part. Made me chuckle a little at the realization. 

and generally, my generation

wouldn't be caught dead working for the man

and generally I agree with them

trouble is you gotta have youself

an alternate plan

and i have earned my disillusionment

i have been working all of my life

and i am a patriot

i have been fighting the good fight

and what if there are no damsels in distress

what if i knew that and i called your bluff?

don't you think every kitten figures out how to get down,

whether or not you ever show up?

the view from here.

My brain puked out a story the other day. So far it's mostly a slip of an idea, something slippery and fragile and nearly translucent. I'm afraid if I get too excited or tell anyone about it I'll lose it; it'll crack like an egg shell and this good idea will be gone. Will it be a life changing piece? No. Am I trying to say something with it? If I am, it's not intentional. I'm writing like me though, not what I've been reading or watching... which is what makes it so fragile. I'm adding my own twists that aren't copied from someone else's style; I think that's what is making this so scary. At least if it sucks it was written in someone else's voice (or at least a recognizable facsimile) then it's not my fault hah.

It's a precious little secret I'll keep to myself for now. I'm afraid to even write it here or talk about the feelings it makes in case I lose it. It's something I haven't experience in a long time and I'd almost forgotten what it felt like... Please let this be one of those things I finish.

that's the view... from here.

Aw MAN.

I went to use ChatGPT (I know I know) to get an idea for how a 12 year old girl from the Midwest would write in the 1930's. I just wanted the language and an overall idea of sentence structure... and damnit it's so good! *SOBS* It's an entry similar to one I wrote in my NSYNC journal in middle school where I talked about the conflicting feelings of liking girls and boys. The book is about a woman exploring her sexuality 1930's-1970's. I want it to be clearly differentiated as a book about bisexuality, not being a closet lesbian. But I'm going to share it here, because the damn robot took my idea and described it in a way that captures the feelings very well. I won't use it, obviously, it's not my work only my idea. But I can at least use it to help me shape up my writing... I guess. Maybe. It's a slippery slope. Sigh. Anyway. I present to you what I wrote, but better. Because fucking robots.

April 12th, 1933

Dear Diary,

Today the clouds looked like pie crusts and the wind smelled like dirt and dandelions, which is how I know it’s really spring now. Everything is waking up and blooming and shouting, “LOOK AT ME!” But I don’t want anyone to look at me right now. Not like this.

I think… I might be sort of gay. But I’m not, really. I still like boys. I do! When I think about BOY (you know the one, Diary, the one with the curls and that funny way he bites his pencil), my whole tummy turns to water. Not the cold kind. The warm kind, like bathwater after Mama adds lavender. It feels like the water wants to seep out of my toes and run down the cracks in the floorboards and drown BOY in it. Not in a mean way. In a feeling way. Is that silly?

But then—when GIRL (you know who, I won’t write her name just in case) grabs my hand when we play that clapping game and her fingers press against mine just a little longer than they need to—my tummy glows. Like fireflies under my ribs. And I don’t want to pull my hand away. Ever. It’s like both kinds of feelings are the same plant, but one grows wild and twisty like ivy and the other grows tall and sunny like a corn stalk. Is it possible to feel two ways at once?

In church, Pastor Bob says love is between a girl and a boy and anything else is a sin. But that don’t feel true in my heart. If loving GIRL is a sin, then why does it feel soft and sweet and safe? Why would God let me feel something that feels so kind and warm if it’s bad? I tried to pray it away last night. I did, honest. But my heart kept whispering, don’t go. What if Pastor Bob’s wrong? What if God is nicer than that?

I don’t wanna be in trouble with God. Or Mama. Or Daddy. Or anyone. But I don’t want to stop feeling this way either. Is that bad, Diary? I hope not.

I think SIBLING might’ve seen me put you under the floorboard last night. I better find a better spot. Maybe under the quilt batting in the old trunk? If anyone read this… I don’t know what would happen. Maybe they'd look at me different. Maybe they'd stop loving me. I hope not.

Please don’t let them find this, Diary. You’re the only one who knows.

Love,

Me 💔🌱

april showers bring mayflowers

it's a rainy day today.

"I identify with the pronouns she/her/they. For me it's an identification that gender and sexuality are fluid in the way I experience it. I do also identify as bisexual and it's a way to honor both sides of identity and sexuality. I will say there's a fear that comes through "am I using these wrong" but I can't be, if it is, after all, how I feel."

courtesy; I borrowed this from a Reddit post because it so succinctly stated how I feel, but I neglected to save it or get the persons handle and now I can't find it. Apologies, I always try to give credit where's due; I'll continue the search and if I find it I'll update.