Wednesday, June 30, 2010


Tonight, I have murder on my mind. Maybe it's the late hour, maybe it's my analytical nature, and maybe it's because I've just started season 4 of my favorite crime show, Dexter. In it, John Lithgow plays an eerily calm and nondescript old guy who just happened to pick a woman at a shopping mall... and later murders her. It makes me think of all the shopping malls and all the streets I've walked down, not knowing what sort of creeps are watching me or lurking nearby. Call me morbid or call me realistic- the fact is, our world is dangerous and people are killed everyday. And it's not as if I blend into the crowd very well. Why wouldn't a stranger notice me, pick me, choose me? Why am I not one of the girls in a crime scene photo, flesh slashed to pieces, my life reduced to a file in the Justice Department. What separates me from any of these women, these victims?

Tonight is a night for faith, for feeling safe and protected. But truth is, I don't feel safe and I don't feel right being alone. I'm alone at night far too often. I can't sleep, despite my lack of effort, and it's not just because drunk Londoners are teeming outside my open window. I have a disquieted mind, caused by being too on edge and too in-tune with my thoughts. There are times I wish I could slowly let my consciousness seep from me like air leaking out of a balloon. This is one of those times. My brain is too full from trying to hard, and I don't like being put under this strain. I don't know how I'll continue to manage if I keep being pushed to my breaking point, having to remind myself of my recovery and how I stitched myself up again from the ruin I was. For all the strength that I have, for all the wisdom I've gained over the years, it could all be snatched from me some night with a blade in my back at the hand of a murderer. What's the point, where's the prize in the living of life if death could spring at you at any given moment? I am not afraid of death. I am not afraid of lifting the veil, revealing the secrets the living have pined for for centuries. I am not afraid that there will be nothing; death may be peaceful, black, nothingness- but what does it matter, if we aren't aware of it anyhow?

I can trust in karma, in Buddha, in Gaia, in God, in the spirit of the Universe to save me from dark things, but they cannot grant me pardon forever. I will one day be called and collected for whatever existence lies beyond my mortality. Religions prey upon praying people, looking for absolution from fear. I do not want my fear absolved, I know that steadfastness in the face of such things provides strength. I want company in my wondering, my wanderings, my worries, my woes. I want someone beside me to make the stillness and quiet of night seem all right again. I want not to be alone in the dark when such things make my mind manic with thoughts of things that might be. I want my bed to be warm with the weight of this sort of company. Tonight, my bed is cold and, as of yet, not slept in. And so it will be until I can once again invite you into into my bed, to comfort me and keep me giggling with delight at your tenderness.

I digress into the sort of fantasies that often fill my mind at this time of night.

I've always prided myself on my steel will, my independence, and my ability to pull myself out of whatever troubles I'm in. I've never wanted to share that with anyone before. I've never wanted to give pieces of myself to someone who could use them against me, to anyone who could betray my trust. For all of the words I spit out about trust and about faith in people, I trust sparingly and against my better instincts. Then you came along, and that scares me. It scares me that I can't... no, do not want to comfort myself. I do not want to spend these scary moments alone. I want to spend them with you. And that is a scary moment in and of itself.

I will never be the sort who would willingly commit to one thing for the rest of forever. I don't imagine that changing. I'm too unpredictable, too painfully aware of the shortness of this life and the importance of seeking out the roads upon which you wish to travel. However, on this road at this time, I don't want to walk alone. I want you to walk with me. Our paths might diverge, our futures might split and reverberate the cracks through our hearts. Then again, our road might stretch into unknown places far along the way from this point. All I know is for now, at this time, on this path, in this night I ache for your arms. I am glad that they are open to me for however long we end up walking.

Saturday, June 26, 2010

I Believe

I beat my balled fists into my thighs
Rage, Rage, Rage
I do not understand this world

"We believe that the practice of homosexuality tears at the fabric of society, contributes to the breakdown of the family unit, and leads to the spread of dangerous, communicable diseases. Homosexual behavior is contrary to the fundamental, unchanging truths that have been ordained by God, recognized by our country’s founders, and shared by the majority of Texans. Homosexuality must not be presented as an acceptable “alternative” lifestyle in our public education and policy, nor should “family” be redefined to include homosexual “couples.” We are opposed to any granting of special legal entitlements, refuse to recognize, or grant special privileges including, but not limited to: marriage between persons of the same sex (regardless of state of origin), custody of children by homosexuals, homosexual partner insurance or retirement benefits. We oppose any criminal or civil penalties against those who oppose homosexuality out of faith, conviction, or belief in traditional values."


Well, Texas, do you know what I believe? I believe that this is unconscionable, and I do not understand. I simply cannot understand. I do not understand a place where a kiss is a crime, where love is brought under high scrutiny and judgment. I do not understand a world where it is more acceptable to kill a man who falls under a different flag than it is to love him. I do not understand a world where such discrimination is not only tolerated, but touted by millions of misguided individuals. I do not understand a world where man condemns his fellow man.

I believe in the truths that our Founding Father's set forth for us. I reject the idea that all of the men who created the cornerstone of our society at all intended to create a system of exclusion. I believe the immortal words were "all men are created equal", not "all men are created equal, except the ones who boink other dudes." I believe that continuing the cycle of judgement, shame, and mistreatment is perpetuating the abuse that our country is so famous for. Over the last two hundred years, we have realized the grave errors we have committed in the name of the Founding Fathers, or in the name of God. This country, where women were once considered second-class citizens, now has apologized to the entire gender and employed new legislatures, ensuring equality. This country, where Africans were once considered scum, now has apologized to the entire race and employed new legislatures, ensuring equality. We have seen the errors of our ways on issues that once seemed to split the country down the line of right and wrong. It was once normal practice for a woman to submit to her husband, needed only for children and for cooking. It was once normal practice to segregate those of darker skin from the rest of the world, stupidly assuming that being black meant being inferior. There have been pardons, apologies, restitutions DEMANDED from our Government. And now, here we are, divided as a country once more. Do we allow this intolerance to continue, or will we finally learn from the mistakes of our past? Those who do not take the lessons of history into account are doomed to repeat them. As long as America allows those who breed hate and injustice to be the lawmakers, we will never be free from the shadow of oppression.

I am waiting, Uncle Sam. I am waiting for my damn apology. I am waiting, praying for the day when the clouds break and the harsh light of honesty is cast upon these cruel practices. I am waiting for the day when I am allowed to freely love whom I chose and be recognized as an equal citizen of this country. As long as my right to marriage, my right for my partnership or family is considered a "special privilege", I stand disgusted at the actions of this country.

I AM A PERSON. I EXIST, I MATTER, AND I DESERVE THE SAME LIBERTIES AS ALL OTHERS. And no matter how many women I kiss, that won't change. I am waiting, America. I am waiting, Americans. It's time to take matters into our own hands and declare, once and for all, that this behavior is NOT OKAY.

I cannot abide by a country that tolerates this nonsense.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010


"All the world is a stage and the men and women merely players. They have their entrances and their exits, and one man, in his time, plays many parts."
- Shakespeare

I have never felt so free, so alive as when I throw my head back and open my voice up to the Universe. In the glory of sound and expression, like releasing a beast from its cage, my spirit unfetters itself from unhappiness and insecurity. I am at home in my body, I am at home in my self.

Halfway blinded by the obtuseness of my own shortcomings, I am painfully aware of my own fear. There is only myself in my way, only myself who anticipates the harsh reality of rejection as a pill too large and bitter to swallow. I hide behind my words, my pretty words that I pluck from my brain and twist into new shape have the pockmarked visage of trying far too hard.

I have little to say, little to say except that I'm confused. I'm not sure whether I should follow my head or pursue what I love, despite odds and doubtfulness. I hate this dilemma, this stupid dilemma that (one would think) we should have figured out by now.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Sleepless in New York.

My mind is running heavy, slow, lagging like a computer with too many viruses. The people mill around me, city mentality. Running, running women in track suits and sculpted bodies. I wish they could run my body, run it far better than I do. I don't sleep, I don't sleep well and I crack at the fissures of the lines in my face. Worn weary, wrinkled, I pray for sleep. One, two, three o' clock roll around and I have nothing to show for it but frustration and balled fists. Digging my nails into my palm, railing and reeling against my urge to jump and kick and scream. At least anger is a form of release.

The world outside my window is too big to ignore and I am swallowed, engulfed in the pace of a New York minute.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Vignettes of the city

When I look out the window, I see Broadway. When I walk out my front door, I walk into Central Park. When I step onto the street, I feel alive and buzzy with possibility. I am a city woman. Or, well. I'd like to be. It's tough to be kind and to live in the city. I smile at people on the sidewalk and they look at me like I've asked them to marry me.

She had wide eyes and wild, frizzy hair. I have seen babies with more teeth. Childish, innocent, batty- she came at me expectantly. Gleefully she eyed my ice cream cone and held out her arms. She reached, I dodged and smiled at her. Sorry, lady. Not today. Part of me wishes I had just given her the ice cream and bought another one.

The rustle of books, the musty smell of paper reaches my nostrils and wraps me in a familiar warmth of contentment. 18 miles of literature, 18 miles of pure joy. It's no secret to me that most of my friends will never have anything new to say to me, their words immortal on the page. In my world of change and transition, their staunch sameness is kind to my psyche. This is my church, and language is my religion.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010


All right, kiddos. I hate to break it to you, but my big whole plan about keeping you all updated about where I am and what I'm doing isn't going to come through. There's this little thing called a Confidentiality Agreement and that means that I'm going to keep stalkers away from the family. Which means I need to be sneaky and covert.

Aunt Linda, who is Melissa's best friend, is a TV writer (who worked on That 70's Show and just created Nurse Jackie) and she and I have been talking a lot about writing. She challenged me to come up with a way to update everyone and keep people informed without divulging too much information. So, I'm going to write about my summer like I'm writing a short story about a girl plucked from the Midwest and sent out into the big, bad world of rock 'n' roll. Names and details will all be changed, but I hope that you enjoy my interpretation of my life. I'll most likely get into it more on the road, but for now, I'm just chilling at Casa Melissa and life is great. Not a whole lot to update, to be honest, except that I love everyone and everyone is so incredibly nice to me. Also, they have a kick-ass pool with a water slide. And I'm hella tan.

More to come, for sure. I miss home, but I'm so happy to be here.

Sunday, June 13, 2010


Tears escape from my unwilling eyes onto the great expanse of my bare, white legs. The weight of anguish and frustration in those salty droplets sting like bruises on my doughy thighs. For all my strength and determination to succeed, I am plagued by doubt and fear and very close to totally despairing. My intelligence rails against me for allowing something so silly, so superficial to burrow under my carefully crafted confidence.

Today, it didn't matter that I am a talented, successful, brilliant, motivated, charming, kind, or graceful woman. Today, the weight of my body was so heavy it was all I could do not to sink.

Saturday, June 12, 2010

Things I have done today

A short update before I pass out.

  • Met Melissa Etheridge
  • Held both a Grammy and an Oscar statuette
  • Seen Bailey again (finally)
  • Took a long, glorious shower
  • Met the people I'll be spending the summer with
  • Got over any fear of said people
  • Met Bailey's aunt and friends
  • Experienced my first traffic jam on the 101
  • Watched my girl sing on stage :)
  • Casually hung out with celebrities

And now I'm in bed, exhausted after a long day. G'night.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

An open letter to the Government

Dear Government,

I feel you have failed me. I feel like, as a citizen of the world, I am due more respect than you allow me. In a country where money-grubbing corporations hold the majority of power, the best interests of human beings are not being considered. The amount of injustice being perpetrated in the name of profit is unconscionable and, frankly, nauseating. As long as the powers that be purport lies about the opposition, true change can never occur. If we strip the Socialist spin from the health care bill, maybe people will realize that it's basic human goodness. We have libraries, post offices, and firemen- if we can provide free books, mail delivery, and fire-fighting services, why the fuck can't we provide free health care? Why would anyone CHOOSE to sit through the red-tape of insurance, bills, payments, etc. when we could live in a country where health care is provided for us. Both Canada and Britain have nation-wide health care and they haven't collapsed in upon themselves. I am CONFIDENT that this country would improve by leaps and bounds if we could simply wipe the blinding shield of ignorance from our eyes and see things plainly: things are not working the way they are. Our systems do not need to have money thrown at them or "reworked." No. These systems are failing. The travesty that is the Gulf oil spill situation is just one example of corporate irresponsibility. These situations are NOT acceptable and should not occur. This brings me to my next point: DAMMIT, PRESIDENT OBAMA.

I am sick and tired of moderate action. Simply sick of it. You are sitting back, twiddling your thumbs while the nation crumbles beneath you. While McCain would have run this country into the ground in the first 5 minutes, you promised us so much more than this. Man up and take charge of your country! The time for moderate action is well behind us, and we need to radically change this quagmire of national crisis. The health care reform is a joke, put up simply for the sake of progress. There is a breakdown in legislature caused by the stubbornness of the Congress and the futility of red tape. The economy is stagnant and joblessness is still a huge issue. This situation is just getting worse and we need you to be the President we voted for and make the change. Change this corrupt and corporate nation into a more peaceful, just, and honest place to live.

A passionate American humanitarian

Friday, June 4, 2010

An unexpected afternoon

I can hear the tweeting birds and rushing leaves and signs of life, life outside my window. The world is warm and like a womb, encloses you in softness and comfort. But my work remains inside, my thoughts remain contained by painted purple fingers clacking heavily on the keys. The world outside the window calls my name, and I click ignore. My brother sits beside me, coffee cup is evidence of early morning actions. A sip, a sigh, we slip into quiet contentment. He in his white Mac world of Web and I in my black PC, we surf the same waves but rarely meet. The world beyond our fingertips is that large, that we can both be submerged in the same maze of movies and entertainment, social networking, business workings, funny links and freaky kinks; this world is a large one to hold such dichotomy. He calls my attention to his fishing line to online. "Look, I think I can make a sign." He's a handyman, helluva guy who works with his hands in the hot sun. He calls out jargon that makes no sense to me, where I am in my world. "Marmoleum: natural linoleum."


But still, I like that we sit comfortably and converse with each other and offer our thoughts. "Marmoleum is a floor you can walk on without your feet getting cold." It might as well be in Mandarin, but at least he's talking to me.

Pause, interruption, a sign of destruction of plans. I try my damnedest to offer a meager solution, knocked cold by the absolute impossibility of flexibility.

Ah, well, I won't let this ruin my morning of poetry and slam beats and inspiration and enjoyment. I have much, much work to get done and I've been organizing for hours and I'm taking a break, and I deserve a break? But I can't take a two-hour break if I want to make my date. And I do want to make my date because I only have a week left, a week left to spend with the man who makes my spine tingle. And I do not apologize for that, especially when he was 3 long hours away while we were merely minutes. I love you, and will always, but I need you to realize that I matter too. And this is something I need to do because I do love you and I need to be healthy to love you.

Break time is over, have to get back to my work and my packing and getting my life sorted into cardboard boxes of finality. There is much to do in preparation for my life and I am clearing my mind of my worries and working as diligently as I can.