Tuesday, November 30, 2010

“What we call chaos is just patterns we haven't recognized. What we call random is just patterns we cant decipher. What we can't understand we call nonsense. What we can't read we call gibberish. There is no free will. There are no variables. There is only the inevitable.”

I believe I am terrified of the world right now. If I come to a concrete conclusion, I'll let you know.

In the mean time, I planned on taking a few minutes to freak out over the fact that everything is going all wrong at the moment but then I realized I don't really care too much. The chaos keeps things spicy and never really lasts that long anyway. And if all else fails...well...then all else fails and I'll be shit out of luck, right?

My brain is in a very funky place at the moment. I can't really complete many thoughts or be around too many people without wanting to strangle at least half of them. You know what that means!?
It means I am going to give birth to some of the craziest poems no one will ever read.

/fin.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

i haven't been this busy
in ages.

i quit
smoking, finally.

i like my classes,
for the most part.

there isn't much to complain about,
right now.

i have to save my breath
because my lungs are damaged.
(and that's not a lie)

i've realized i can survive
on coffee and poetry.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

so i have pneumonia and it is terrible. i have spent over 100 dollars on this damn sickness in the past three days but that's not even the worst part; pneumonia is boring and lonely and a downright waste of my time. i have been writing when the pain in my chest is bearable and when i can go five minutes without coughing but those moments are so few and far between. i'm just far too restless to lie in bed all day. thank god for kerouac and vonnegut though; i've been attempting to finish On the Road (my attention span is that of a three year old) and i started reading Look at the Birdie. perhaps I'll finish both books tonight. i slept entirely too much last night and today.

anyway. that's all.
i should go do a breathing treatment.

Friday, September 10, 2010

goldfish are going to make me fat.

i need to decide what i'm going to write for my non-fiction piece. perhaps i'll just have to go out and do something new.

i'm really hoping i can get in to the second level poetry workshop this semester. i'm not looking forward to taking fiction just yet.

i'm not intimidating.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

I am failing as a writer lately. I haven't been keeping a journal, updating blogs, or typing up notes on my phone at all. The frustrating part of that is it's not that I don't have anything to write about, it's that I don't take the time to sit down and write any of it because I don't feel like it's the right time to do that. I know that by waiting for the right moment to come along I risk forgetting details or leaving out important parts but I just can't write about anything yet. I know I am going to have to though; if I don't then this summer will have been an extreme waste of time. Maybe next week- before school starts- I will write about it. After all, I am moving in a with a friend next week in an attempt to save gas (and money I don't have) so I won't really have much to do.

In other news, I like to think things are finally looking up after such a terrible summer. School is going to start soon (which always makes me happy) and I have a job interview on Wednesday. Now, I understand there is a chance I might not get the job but the fact that three days after I was officially fired I went job hunting and I'm actually being given a chance to have another job already makes me feel good. I mean, I felt good the day I did that because I wasn't sure I would bounce back that fast. And now I'm hopeful again! This sounds terrible, especially because I love it so much, but I'm thinking it might be time to let the tutoring job go. I went from 15 hours a week to 10 and now I'm down to 6. I'm sorry but 90 dollars every two weeks just isn't enough for me.

As for my social life...well. That's an entirely different cup of chai. I don't even know where to begin when it comes to that. I can say things are definitely fun. I will let you do with that what you will.

Till next time, interwebs!

Monday, August 16, 2010

Excuse me for a second while I throw a bitch fit...

I am one of the few people I know who really has everything going for them when it comes to being a person. I am intelligent. I am good with people. And in all honesty, I am capable of doing whatever I want. But for some reason, I have no concrete support system. I don't ask people for help. I don't depend on other people to do anything for me because I do it myself. The most I've asked people for lately is to just listen to me bitch for a few minutes and then be done with it. I have had every reason this year to ask for help. I have had every reason this year to stop everything I'm doing and take care of me, but I haven't. I've been balancing everything I need to do with everything I should be doing. Unfortunately, everything is sort of caving in on me now so I can't ignore the fact that I have nothing.
I don't have anyone here to help.
My family doesn't even help me for Christ's sake.

Where does this leave me? It leaves me angry. It leaves me crying. It leaves me convincing myself that getting in my car and disappearing is not a good idea because (let's be real) it sounds like a damn good idea to me. And just for the record, I do not want to hear the usual "i care about you"'s and the "i worry about you"'s and I ESPECIALLY don't want to hear the "let me help you"'s because I do not fall for that shit. People say what they think they should and that's why things go wrong.

So, to keep myself from furthering this bitch fit, I am just going so send a big FUCK YOU out to the world.

FUCK YOU.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

the bees the bees the bees the bees

My best friend was stung by a bee for the first time yesterday and found out she's allergic. It struck me as odd that someone could go 21 years without ever being aware of such a life threatening allergy, let alone without getting stung by a bee. I mean hell, I've been stung by bees three times in a matter of a week. They've molested me on my legs, my arms, my back and even on my fingers (though my first encounter with those pokey little bastards was when I was really young; I decided the best way to kill a bee was to sit on it. Needless to say I ended up bent over a foot rest with my ass out so my grandmother could right my wrong). Funny thing is the way I'm talking about bees makes me sound like I dislike them. I don't though; I find them rather intriguing and have decided to share what I know about bees with the rest of the world (I apologize in advance for anything that might be incorrect; it's 2:30 in the morning. Bear with me.). ENJOY!

You know that awesome haiku from Fight Club? In case you don't it reads like this:

"worker bees can leave
even drones can fly away
the queen is their slave"

Now, not only is the haiku in perfect syllabic form it's actually pretty accurate. I mean, hypothetically speaking worker bees can leave and drones can fly away (the worker bees pollinate and bring home the bacon while drones impregnate the queen and then die) but the queen really is essentially a slave in the bee world. Her only purpose is to procreate with bees that sound inferior and unworthy of her. It's really quite funny too that the term "Queen Bee" functions in our society as a term for a female in a position of power. In fact Urban Dictionary defines a queen bee as "A female that continuously strives in treating others in a condescending manner regardless of gender." (and, despite grammatical errors, we know that's an accurate definition because the internet would never lie to us).

Anyway, on to other things ("other things" here meaning the sexual habits of bees). Yes, I want to tell you about bees and their sex lives. However, instead of typing everything out, I'm going to introduce you to one of the most outlandish but surprisingly educational videos to grace the internet.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Queens and Drones! I present to you...Green Porno.



And now, because I've realized it's 3am, I leave you with a song that I quite like; Bees by Animal Collective.

Sunday, August 8, 2010

The weather this summer hasn't been bad at all. In fact, I haven't been miserable with heat for more than a week so far. More often than not, the temperature hasn't even been in the triple digits and every once in a while you get days like today.

Today has been perfect; the sun is out, there's a soft, light breeze every so often and no one is even breaking a sweat. I sat outside today with my best friend and her family while "the boys" washed the boat (we're supposed to go to Laughlin this weekend). For lunch I ate chicken wings and drank a few beers. It was lovely. When the wings were all gone, I taught Andrea's cousin Zooey how to catch (she starts kindergarten tomorrow) and then I let her play with my hair. She said she was going to make me look like a silly princess and believe me, she wasn't lying. When she left she gave me the biggest hug ever and if that hug is the last good thing to happen today then I'm okay with it.

Now the evening is approaching and dinner is being cooked. There is homemade salsa and guacamole being made and hot dogs are on the grill. Pretty much, today has been one of the most perfect days I've ever experienced in California. Nothing is out of place and everything is wonderful.

Friday, August 6, 2010

I'm preoccupied with running away again. I can't help it; I get anxious when I feel stuck and then I can't stop my brain from fabricating dozens of escape plans. It's quite the burden right now seeing as how I am (was?) determined to graduate from my school. It was a rash decision, that one. I still kick myself in the ass for it. I should have known I would grow bored with California again. It's nothing new but I set myself up with a lovely little trap. I thought that maybe reading a book about someone constantly on the move would help me stop fixating on everywhere else I could be but, in all honesty, I was very wrong. It has only made it worse.

I guess I could have just skipped all that rambling and said I'm bored.
Because I am bored.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

for the sake of not having to explain everything, we're going to keep this short; i got fired from my job, i'm still not sleeping like a human being and i'm painting again.

Sunday, July 18, 2010

I have fallen in lust with automatic writing. I feel like it was made for me and I for something on another planet. Here is a poem that I wrote while indulging.


Clusterfuck Politics

The more absurd my writing is
the more real it is in the world
of surrealism but my reality
is already surreal because I
never really feel like anything happened
and I would really prefer it if people stopped
trying to find meaning in it.
The lighting is usually all wrong
and the dialogue muffled.
I am constantly trying to ask the director
for another take, but he doesn’t answer
because he is a deaf mute with a knack
for spinning in circles to signal yes or no.
I can never keep up with the ticking of his hands
so I’ve stopped staring at his blinking lights.
Perhaps I should leave the critical analysis
to the professionals; the robots who run on
treadmills and caffeine. “Yes sir,
I would like for you to give me a chocolate covered
rabbit with a real dime awkwardly hidden
inside the left ear that you’ve bent in response
to the overcast weather on this lovely
Sunday brunch.”
He didn’t let me keep the dime, but I guess it’s okay
because I needed a quarter anyway
to get a piece of gum. Thinking of which,
I want something to chew on
but my words are terrified of my teeth
because they see the battle wounds of my
strawberry pink cheeks. I wonder
if the little men inside my head ever get tired
of the concussions that come from
banging my head against my steering wheel
while complaining about the horse drawn carriage
taking entirely too long to get out of first gear.
Don’t any of the taxi drivers from
the nineteenth century still exist?
They knew how to get a broad from point A
to needlepoint in no time at all.
I wonder if Woodstock is ever going
to have the same effect as the
Challenger’s demise. Oh no!
It looks like I’m offending the feminists again.
Last time it was over a sandwich that
just didn’t taste like I imagined.
I think I’m over thinking because I’ve been thinking
even though I decided I was over thinking.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Bhut Jolokia? Conquered.


Monday, July 12, 2010

List of Ridiculous Things I Must Do:

1. Tornado Chasing
2. Hurricane Party
3. Midnight Showing in Alaska (When It Doesn't Get Dark)
4. Taste the World's Hottest Pepper (aka Bhut Jolokia, or Ghost Pepper)


...the list is longer. I just forgot where I put it.

i get what i want.

My thoughts are on speed again.

But anyway, I woke up thinking about spaghetti-os [which is odd enough because I was dreaming about numbers [of all things for me to dream about, right?)] and I realized just how deep-rooted my hate for spaghetti-os is. They're nasty! I told a friend they reminded me of ring worms. Covered in ketchup.

Yeah, go ahead and have that for lunch.



Thursday, July 8, 2010

i died so i could haunt you.

I've been feeling really good the past three days but that's probably because I've actually slept an insane amount of hours the past three nights. Insane for me, at least.

Anyway, my second job started again and as reluctant as I was to give up every afternoon of the weekday to work, I'm having a lot of fun. Yesterday, during my one on one session with a seven year old, we got into an argument about Mace Windu and Anakin Skywalker while reading a Star Wars comic. I told him that if Mace Windu would have just allowed Anakin to be a Jedi Master then he probably wouldn't have gone to the Dark Side. His reply was "Nu uh! I don't like that. You're wrong. Anakin is a bad guy and Mace Windu is cool...except for his purple light saber. I hate purple." It was adorable. We decided that the best way to settle the argument was to end our session with a game of Marvel Memory Match. He totally kicked my ass too.

I also tutor another little boy who is very high energy and (to be quite honest) leaves me absolutely exhausted after our sessions. Still, he is one of my favourite students. He has only ever responded positively to me and one other tutor and he likes to do something different about every seven minutes. I really have to plan for this kid. It's totally worth it though! He draws me pictures of hearts with wings and halos and signs his name in six year old writing, backwards letters and all. I love it.

So, yeah. That's my life right now. I've been writing a lot, just not on the computer. I don't really sit down at a computer much anymore and I really love writing "the old fashioned way" so it all works out nicely. Perhaps I'll put up one of the poems I've written recently.

Okay. /blog.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

i haven't been writing much of anything lately.

come to think of it, i haven't been doing much of anything lately. still, i want to do less. i want to lie on the beach and sleep in the woods and sit on a rock in the mountains and float in a river.

pretty much, i don't want to work. but what else is new, right?

anyway, i've been having a lot of dreams about spiders lately. i mean, it's weird enough that i'm dreaming again but now it's all about spiders. i had a dream last night that there was a spider on me- a rather scary but still intriguing spider- and it was STUCK to me. it wouldn't come off. there was a bunch of random people in the dream who would attempt to get the spider off but it wouldn't come off.
i woke up very freaked out.

i really don't like how much i've been sleeping lately.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

I need to buy more canvases. I've been painting a lot lately.

I also need to buy a new radiator for my car because I was in a hurry to leave the doctor's office and hit a curb.
I cracked my radiator.
It's funny.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Monday, June 7, 2010

Go Away.

You used to know me when I was a little girl-
I was a little girl and you always left me waiting.
You always left me waiting inside the house-
waiting inside the house for your call-
your call that hardly ever came.
It hardly ever came, but when it did?
When it did it was always a new excuse-
a new excuse that left me crying-
crying in the company of my mother.
My mother, whose hand would run up and down-
up and down my back trying to calm me down-
calm me down in the midst of the panic-
the panic that would follow me-
follow me right into my young adulthood.


My young adulthood introduced me to so much-
so much I didn’t understand-
I didn’t understand why I wasn’t sleeping.
I wasn’t sleeping because I was losing my mind.
I was losing my mind so very fast-
so very fast like my racing thoughts.
My racing thoughts quieted for a few weeks-
for a few weeks I was sleeping.
I was sleeping and it was all okay-
it was all okay until I saw you.
I saw you and everything came back-
everything came back so suddenly-
suddenly I was a little girl again.
I was a little girl again but I was angry-
I was angry and I was uncomfortable.
I was uncomfortable with the way you looked at me-
you looked at me like you knew me.
But you knew me when I was waiting-
waiting inside the house for your call-
your call that hardly ever came.

It hardly ever came and I chose to cut you out-
cut you out because I knew what I needed.
I needed you to go away.
Go away.

A New Way to Say Hooray

I can't sleep.

I did have a few brain blasts though!
I suddenly had three ideas for three different journals. One of them is for purely inebriated writing only. The next is just a running monologue and the third is going to be tricky to fill up. It also will make some people feel a little...naked, in a sense.

Anyway, I'm sure the night is bound to bring more genius ideas! The night before last I came up with a new idea for the book I have been writing. I like it and I'm excited I just need to find a little bit of focus in all this madness so I can sit and write it already.

...new subject. I can't stick with one for long.

I'm determined to get out of the Inland Empire as much as possible this summer. I've already gone to Las Vegas and I believe I am going to Laughlin in a few weeks but that's not enough. I really would like to go to Disneyland and San Francisco and Havasu and any beach along this disgusting coast that I can. It would be really awesome to get away from the west coast too, but I don't know that money will allow for that.

Money is such a buzz kill.

Okay. I don't think I should continue posting on this thing. I could end up writing about everything right now. Like the way leather seats feel when it's really cold because that is the kind of nonsense I am thinking about right now. Perhaps I will go edit the poem I wrote the other day and post it on here later.

Till next time!

Friday, June 4, 2010

I painted this rather shitty self portrait the other day, but I am very proud of the hair.




Anyway, since I'm still on an escalator to the clouds, I'm going to let my less than responsible side take over and do ridiculous things for a while.

It's better than spending all my money or quitting my jobs.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

I'm a tick, tick, ticking time bomb that's been thrown up, up, up into a sky of clouds. I like the white, fluffy ones. They're lovely. But those damn grey clouds...those are the ones that make me tick a little bit faster. Sometimes they get in my way, completely disregarding the fact that I might blow at any moment, and I let off sparks.


The worst part is I'm still flying up, up, up.

Sunday, May 23, 2010

i want to start taking pictures again. and modeling.













I own entirely too much crap. When I moved back to California two years ago, all of my belongings...ALL of my belongings... fit very comfortably into a suitcase and a bag. Now, however, I'm afraid nothing fits anywhere.

I really need to decide what I'm going to do with this stuff.

Saturday, May 22, 2010

To My Dear Soulmate,

Now, I know we aren't aware we are soulmates yet but that doesn't bother me. Still, I feel I must share with you just how long you've been on my mind...or in my hands, I should say.

About two years ago, I went and hand my palm read. After refusing to touch my hands because of a "dark force detrimental to others and not" me, the palm reader said she could clearly see I had a soulmate. She went on to tell me that, at that time in my life, I was not aware of this person, nor were they aware of me. She said that, once united, this person and I would share a deep connection.

Then, I went to another palm reader who told me that she saw one person in my life sticking out more than most. She told me this person would be an excellent friend to me and we would work well together because of our understanding for one another.

The third time I went and had my palm read was a little less reliable than the previous two times. A woman on the street in Venice claimed to read palms and, for five dollars, I let her take a look at my hands. She flat out asked me who you were and was taken aback by my lack of ability to give you a name.

And then the fourth time I went, she gave me details about you. She told me you and I know each other- that the only thing keeping us separate is purely emotional and mental. She told me the color of your eyes, the first letter of your name, your heritage, and that, to me, something sets you apart from everyone else. Forgive me for leaving the details out, but I am reluctant to put anything on here that anyone might identify with. I would hate to run the risk of anyone coming to any conclusions based on the lines in my hand. Instead, I just wanted to let you know that, whoever you are, you are in my hands and when we are aware we are soulmates, you owe me the equivalent of whatever I've paid to listen to four times now.

Love, Stephanie Kate.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010



i've been feeling rather inside out and backward lately.

Friday, May 14, 2010

I'm taking a Children's Literature class this semester and all we're reading is Peter Pan and it's various forms.

Do you know how much literary analysis there is for Peter Pan? I believe it to be quite endless. Fortunately, it's all very interesting. Take for instance this idea:

Have you ever wondered why Peter Pan has been primarily played by women? I was under the impression women offered the perfect emulation of a prepubescent boy (with the voice and what not), but then I read an article that proposed that women are perfect for playing Peter Pan because women will never grow up to be men.

...I haven't decided if what I'm learning in this class is going to benefit me in any way in the future, but I don't think I really care. It's very entertaining to take a story I hold dear to my heart and tear it to shreds through academia.

Thursday, May 6, 2010

drugs in my body.

I’m not too sure where I am these days. I don’t mean physically; unfortunately I know exactly where I am stuck on this rock. I mean mentally.

I don’t know if being on so many different medicines in such a short time is catching up with me.
I don’t know if the medicine I’m on now is finally taking over my brain.
I really just don’t know.

I’m also not sure I really want to know where I am these days.

It’s difficult to articulate but, as always, I’m attempting to put to words the sluggish feeling that permeates the grey matter hidden inside my skull. It’s not exactly a slow, sluggish feeling but the idea of a rapid moving slug is a horrible metaphor.

Sluggish clearly isn’t the correct word here.

I could use words along the same lines as “zombie-like” but that’s not adequate. I’m more than capable of getting through the day, all while speaking in complete sentences and avoiding car accidents.

I suppose this is the best way to describe where I am these days:

I have a lot to say but I don’t feel like wasting the breath on words that I feel tip-toeing off my tongue and gently falling to the ground like leaves in a light breeze. It’s as though what I think and how I feel and the words I use to describe those just aren’t propelled with enough force to make it from my brain to my lips to someone else’s ears.
I feel physically exhausted; my body aches and my feet are so hesitant to move. Directly opposite to this though, my mind is still on auto-pilot, constantly fluttering from one idea to the next like a neurotic moth surrounded by blinking Christmas lights. I can’t stop it. Thinking is intoxicating and, were my brain capable of shutting up for a moment, I wouldn’t know what to do with the obnoxious silence that would follow. I imagine I would get anxious and need to move.
I can’t stand to be alone but find it very difficult to connect with anyone around me. You know when you’re a child and you watch a mime give the impression they’re stuck in a box? I am that mime. The box, though invisible and probably not really there, prevents me from actually engaging with my surroundings. I am one bullet-proof window away from really being in the moment.


Perhaps this is all difficult to really fathom, and if it’s not then I clearly didn’t do a very good job at explaining. I understand there are people who are going to read this who might genuinely believe they know what I’m talking about (and perhaps a few might actually get it) but I’m skeptical to trust that familiarity. It isn’t that I’m under the impression that what I’m experiencing right now is unique and solely my experience- no, that would be such a foolish thought. What it comes down to, really, is that I don’t trust that my words have said enough or described enough to fully and accurately explain where I am these days.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

waiting for the worms.

I don’t write nearly as much as I should, granted I don’t have time like I used to.

Aren’t I too young for my life to revolve around my jobs instead of my education and my youth? Perhaps that’s why I have no desire to grow old; I’m getting all of this done much too fast. School is just something that passes the free time I don’t know what to do with and my youth is just some Never Land I can hardly remember. (Was it real? Or am I imagining it? I most certainly must have made it up in my head.) I know this to be true for one reason and that reason is last week.

Last week I had a break in between terms at school. Pretty much everyone I interact with on campus disappeared for the week (and rightfully so! What good is a vacation if you don’t do something a little out of the ordinary?). I was left with myself and both of my jobs. I slept in my room, alone. I didn’t hear my own voice until I was taking an order at work or teaching a child what a short vowel was. I came home, feet aching and all, only to lie down in my bed and read or doze off until my alarm went off again. When I wasn’t working I was doing things I felt I should be doing, like cleaning and grocery shopping and planning for the next day of work. And you know what? I fell into such a quiet, lonely routine that I felt as though perhaps that was the kind of life I was doomed to live (and I am so very terrified at spending the rest of my life working at a coffee shop in the morning and tutoring by night. That is most certainly not what I want out of life.) And then I started to worry about what I’m doing with my life right now. I came to the conclusion that this school business is just too drawn out and boring for me. I really don’t give a shit about the grades I’m getting (or not getting. My parents would definitely disagree with the bullshit numbers that represent my intelligence.) I go to classes I’m genuinely interested in and when they grow boring…well, when they grow boring you can be sure my attendance reaches what grade-school teachers would call “unsatisfactory”.

I know that quitting school is not really an option. I do not want to be catapulted into the real world and I would definitely put an end to a life of work very quickly if that’s what I was left with. What I want instead is to live and go places and see things and write about it. I feel like I’m wasting my time working toward a degree that will hardly validate me as a writer. I already know the kind of life I’m setting myself up for by taking out loans to go to college for something that I know I can do (not to mention there is hardly any room for growth as a writer when I’m stuck in this monotonous cycle of work, school, work, stare at the wall, work, school, work, rinse, wash, repeat). I haven’t had any sort of experience worth writing about in so long that I simply feel like I’m standing still while the world spins around me, blurry and impossible to understand.

I really just want to say “fuck it”, close my eyes and dive head first into the blur.