Tribute:

feel like such a little kid here, but im totally mary-jane standing in the doorway with a tight shirt on saying,

"hey there tiger"

and, among other things,
"with great power comes great responsibility"

We live in relation to each other and the world. How will you feel when you look back upon it and realize you have been ignoring the world for so long? I hope with this realization you will change. because consciousness is basically a stickshift. shit i wish i had a car.

oh and this "you" is very relative. its eyes that are reading this now. that could possibly read it. the kid picking his nose next to me that i wish would really just stop, but yeah, its him too.

so last night im talking with little sister and, fuck.

parents anniversay was that day and i have once again been neglectful.

"get out of your head byerly"

why does that phrase always make me feel like shit? i dunno....

being numb to outside stimuli is something im not sure i handle with grace. i hate to dub it intuition but there are some people that are more sensative to other's needs than their own. my roomie rebecca is one of them. it gets to a point, i think, where one cannot have some semblance of control on their own life because they are too busy worried about other's wellbeing. or trying to give too much to overcompensate for the lack of whatever in their friend's situation.

last night i had interesting conversation, and i love these talks that result in a new form of consciousness or interconnectedness, and discovered that

a) people like to shit on me a bunch. a whole lot. because its easy. it doesnt matter if i have been sweet, or nice, or tried to connect with someone on an appropriate level..as soon as i act in an passionate way or outside the parameters you have placed around me in your head, my motives become heinously negative.

.....and outside a bar i tried to get a super drunk friend to calm down, stop physically molesting me, and revert to his nice sober self. and i could see the hazy struggle in his eyes over knowing that what he was doing would result in reactions that weren't so positive and he did start to walk down the street. i go back inside and unfortunately so does he.

and so the public banishment begins and i feel so goddamn frustrated because i couldnt do anything. if i had been a guy and walked him outside, he might have listened to me being nice and giving him firm advice. but instead i have to watch from a distance as he makes his own choices and it makes me sad.

so withdrawing into myself is safer because you can let people assume things about you. and they never think to ask otherwise. but i tend to snowball into this hollow, angry person when i cannot trust if my behavior will be taken in a good or bad context. and i guess my parents have shouldered alot of this resultant absent-mindedness about their situation.

and nobody wants to hear a smart, lovely woman talk about their problems. but we all encounter shit that sucks on a daily dosage.

truth: i may have not experianced that same event of hardship or heartbreak or alienation in exact details.

if you never make yourself vunerable, you never learn or grow. but i have to wonder, where do i stop? where should i draw the line and say "enough is enough"?

what to do with the women who wake up late and decide this generalized conception of human, and man, and beauty is all so distorted? i do not have a resume of amazing things that justify why you should take me seriously.

i am not well traveled. ive read books, but not really anything special. i listen to what everybody else listens to. i draw and paint and sing, like everyone else. i quote passages from things i read, like i used to. its really weird how one can forget who they used to be and who they felt most comfortable being when they leave the confines of a safe and quiet home.

when you are comfortable being with yourself, it creates a very visible boundary between what is fixed and what is elusive. theres a choice between living for others and being used by them, and then living for yourself and discovering those out there that are pretty much doing the same thing

....so by falling into the watery sounds of someone's music, i am falling into something new. and by reading words that sound so much like my own at times, i am not creating this person from my imagination who wrote them, because they took the time for them. but i have the ability to use their art to make it my own.

if someone's artwork seems so bound up with your own conception of the world, by god a kindred spirit has been found. and i refuse to let it go. because there is something so wonderful about feeling a living and growing and changing art

but we were kinda scene kids....and we all knew it. and could make fun of each other for it. family guy style.

so chapin told me about weekend trip to dc to see this band, then handed me an earphone and proceeded to play airguitar while i cackled joyfully for about two minutes. man, i cant believe how many NICE kids i met this weekend.

who the fuck cares if they have or dont have money? they were nice to me and didnt make fun of me acting like a goof when i danced. are we still, even as youthful, educated people, stuck with class bullshit? oh marx, im patting you on the head right now and saying it will be alright eventually.

then suspersweet cycling cap'n travis jaunts over and im so glad we're going to be pals. i knew he was awesome from his awkward and careful use of verbiage around me--most kids who are like that have been put down for what they think, something that shouldnt ever be beaten out of people. and what they think is usually right on and funny as hell.

and getting over physical attraction in order to create a great friendship is hard, but not impossible. so skipping philosophy again because i have a stack of books to read and flaked out on doing homework last night. i like being busy, and work well under stress, but when it comes from all aspects of your life at once

it kinda sucks.

and stopped myself. my mom called today and that was nice. talked to little sisters for a bit and it makes me miss the ocean. makes me want to escape. but i wont because i know i havent done anything wrong. and time will make people get over their retardedness but i cant wait around to give them a cookie everytime they demonstrate a bit of understanding.

and im pretty sure all he (try to guess) is doing when gluing thorns to roses is conveying what some friends think of me or muse upon when they are reading this or that or listening to that or this. but were they there when.....?
and were they able to read his silences like eloquent matricies of meaning?

i dont think so.. maybe theres a lovely handful of his friends that know what he needs, but when they tell him so a tugging of tense control over his tidalwave of emotions and intellect threaten to want to relax. give in.
and we all know what happens when you relax.
you become open and vulnerable.

when the world stitches so many opinions about you violently to your face and genitals and exposed skin, its natural for them to become a part of your individual tapestry. and loose where you once began and where they plugged their hoses in. and shrug tired shoulders and say, "oh well. this is me"

my fingers slipped behind those curtains.
i know what lies underneath and its not a bad thing at all.
because i am strong enough to ignore what others say
because ive been where you were and are in my own way.

and this self assuredness can be taken as pompous. i dont care. i have all the gentle hands and ears i need from women and men who arent afraid of me.
my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard,
but im only waiting for one. he knows. hope is an empty swing beside me.

so the staggers and the jags played at the cat and it was grand. dancing and wine and christian's lyrics and robs voice and steves sweet skills coagulated quite nicely. then went to a friend's house and ended up being pushed into the twilight zone.

........ i never know how i get places, which can be good, but when i stop and realize how deja vu-like everything seems....i loose my body.

the people i find myself with, who are mutable and not phased by surface objects, tend to be so angry. and expect aggression in return. actually feed off of it. a big ball of hip angst. usually thats ok. im not too phased by that, because hell we've all been there, to a certain extent.

but when my thoughts and words are negated by my personal optimism and then used as a weapon against me.....everybody has a threshold of putting up with such unnecessary hostility for so long. my lines were crossed last night.

and having deep philosophical conversations can be so nice and rewarding after almost two straight days of extroverting and dancing. its just frustrating when i keep gently thwarting these assumptions and aggressive stereotyping and trying to hold a hand and tell them

"the world doesn't have to be that bad man. people arent that fucked up.
and if they are, we shouldnt automatically write them off. or give up on them. love up close or from a distance, but thats better than doing nothing and wallowing for pity's sake"

and their eyes look back and see naiivete. or worse, delusional crazy girl.

and the sad part is that these eyes are so intelligent and have depth that many people refuse to acknowledge. yet when i sit in front of them and push for that knowledge and intuition to come forth! i feel such resistance.

friends shouldnt ignore their friends hurts. friends should take a step up and say, this person is hurting..or this person is super awesome..a scene of recognition needs to happen. humanity has lost our ability to see each other and our extensions into one another.

and though i get emotionally pissed off or, more so, hurt by others disbelief or willing blindfolds they refuse to let me help peel away, i refuse to stop being that sunshiney, crazy dancing girl. i refuse to create a heirarchy with my friends. thats bullshit.

yes, im writing another blog, and yes it feels superawesome to get this out of myself because singing/yelling at house is not good when others are in it and it makes me anxious to not verbalize these events and the emotions that come with them, because then i can move on or at least integrate them in my consciousness healthily.

moving on.

......night in charlotte was interesting. as me and mutual new friend drive into town, try to meet mother and little sister and uncle with girlfriend and mom's friend on time, and with each call from the car i get a more escalatingly tense tone from her on exactly when we are going to be arriving.

the girl who drove me to the "queen city" this weekend and i got in a fight on the way back. once again, i dont mean to, but i become the center of attention and navigation through others words and conversations so that i dont get things put upon me that are unnecessary happened, and there we were with her being mean and me trying to loose myself in the scenery out the window.

we stayed at a guy friend's house of mine who graduated from asu and she ended up knowing him. from the time we got to his house to the time we went to bed, i dont think she stopped talking. i interrupted her two times to let my guyfriend finish his thought. for the most part i sat on the couch listening, commenting, and reading this sweet comic called "american elf" (and yes, now i want the copy myself...dang!) and watching this dvd he got from an art show. the next day we got into it because subsequent guy friend had burned me some new cds and she wanted them. "well, he gave them to me but you can burn them"

"but i was the one who suggested he make us a mix cd."

"well, he gave them to me and you can burn them"

not good enough. its never good enough to be someones friend and tell them you love them and thank them for being themselves and being fun, you have to bleed for them. make yourself into something they can control and recognize because if you dont they hate you for being beautiful. im not being conceited here. it happens to people all the time.

master slave screw up angel child bad preachers kid good preachers kid

i refused to do that and now im afraid she may not be my friend. as i got out of the car i thanked her for being so charming with my family and told her she could come over anytime and burn the cds. she hasnt called me and refused to come into the house today when i was home. so i left and am at the library writing on the fucking computer.

making myself verbally vunerable but trying not to shove it in people's faces so that it wont be misinterpreted as this "victem" shtick. but communicating a personal truth about myself and what stupid events occured in my little life and the worries that i may have lost a friend for being who i am and refusing to be controlled makes me feel a little better.

even if no one is listening. what is it about me that makes people refuse to listen? how many past friends, lovers, mothers, women can i remind people of? am i that indistiguishable from that pretty girl that fucked you over in the past? am i that threatening as the smart woman who used her tools as weapons?

and all i want are friends who wont judge me by my body and what i think about. its not like i tell people things they dont need or arent ready to hear. and its not like i force feed it to them. but i say it. and it becomes real. i have created god through logos, but it is a devil in their presence.

and only ourselves have the ability to cultivate happiness and love. and i can do that on my own. it just gets a little lonely sometimes.

moving on. tonight is work! and then christian's new sweet band "falling gods (?)" we had the best conversation in praxis today. i love that hes such a dork with me. mwahaha and then its staggers and the jags and the steelers are playing tonight and im wearing my shirt that says:

im from pittsburgh, pa! super city for super champs!

this is me self propogandizing for yous guys to come see me wail on a black guitar. thats right, i said black. like johnny cash. only i sing about loving god symbolically and vicariously. with wine.

supersweet set list includes:

monkey walks
pittsburgh
gold sounds (pavement cover)
alabama kudzu (mtn. goats cover)
g.g.
eros makes hot pants
endosymbiotic friendship
please believe --(if theres time)

and i know yall are rolling your eyes and complaining;
"oh no there goes another folky chick with a guitar and shes gonna sing about daisys and tripping through fields in a cotton dress and we're all supposed to bat our eyelashes at how sweet she is! fuck that! im gonna sit at home with my manfriends and were gonna watch adult swim"

i agree.
fuck that.
homie dont play like that.
i tell it like it is muthalover, albeit soft or nice or fun and dancy or patti smith style.

come see me play supercheesy chords and hear some badass lyrics and youll get to stare for at least 20 min. and i wont beat your face in. ill actually like it and thank you for it.

and the above conversation happened and yes the hot ones always seem to be gay but i dont care. i personally think im a homosexual male in a fine woman's body.........

"dude....thats so lame, you like write on here everyday!"

.......oh hells nah, she didnt! i keeps it real!---
so wait, what?? how can i still be assumed to be that lame? i feel theres still this level of justification that people expect from you in order to believe you or consider you. "who do you represent and where is that outside authority that gives you power to tell me something different?"

i have come to the realization that even here, where im not even freaking talking out loud, and its people's own choice to look at this blog or not, im seen as weird or loser-esque because of my refusal to shut up. and continually write. and make it fucking visible.

my arrows of experiance and burning love not really caring if the hit their target as long as they're
released.

im rosa parks, bitch. mama aint going to the back of the bus no more.

sitting in the coffee shop today and reading a supersweet psychological book on the gender of sex and identity, a manfriend comes up to sit with me. he is a very smart dude and these are usually the only men i can tolerate because they wont bore me with supposed conversations he supposes i want to hear. and we can talk about many things. stupid or silly or witty. and we can have joyfully heated conversations, like the one we did today. and remain friends and grow from hearing each others experiances.

and it envoked my previous thoughts about authorship and what happens when you enfuse a person's ideas with their bodies. visually they are either supported or negated.

like the fact that im a white female means i cannot be the logical judger of my own emotions, because we're so out of control of them arent we..... hmmm. or that i dont really understand suffering or anything else.

and im not mad at my little sister for calling me some label i thought i had molted out of. but i cannot control how other people see me and its really too exhausting to worry about. anyways, she refused to trust me on several levels because stereotypically i have fit the profile of internet looser. by posting numerous entries in this visual diary.

and i used to be on this blog thing back in the day with several intelligent dudes from my school and they were the nerds in the corners and the punk rockers writing poetry and by reading their comments on daily happenings it opened my eyes incredibely. and i actually gained some justification in their eyes and was allowed to play with them. to interact as a human being and not as

looser:pretty chick
punk:normal suburbanite
man:woman

and the funny thing is i really never felt like i fit any of those assumptions. and as i got to know them, those labels fell away nicely. well, integrated into someone i wanted to hang out with.

i feel like a loser when i let someone walk all over me or hurt the feelings of someone i love and me not react appropirately... i dont feel like a looser sitting here and writing because i love it. i love writing and singing and making my physical body and life present in areas people assume to be otherwise.

it hurts my feelings when people see me as less than. as only an assumed persona or label that they can write off or on at their will.

and i was recently asked to quell things in order for us to get along. and no i will not. there will always be a gentle translation and i will try to never be violent when it comes to vocalizing my emotions or thoughts or sensations.

but i am not transitory. i am not stagnant.
i am not just a bodily vessel to be discarded.
i am not a well of intelligence to be sucked dry.
i am an organic person.
i want you to understand that at least.

no one should ask for more than the other person can give. which is why i will not communicate with people who are unwilling to listen to me. and really listen. because its that simple. its always been that simple.

i love you with holes. only you can fill them. and i say this to strangers and sisters and mothers and fathers and friends and enemies. and you.
------------------

well my dears tonight turned out to be a whirlwind of me running around to get open mic started. mike superawesome bartender dude told me dumb hippie dude that normally runs open mic had flaked and, oh no i cannot play because i didnt know how to set up the fucking equipment. i wish there was a college class about this....

anyways, me being adament about playing was due to the fact that old manager at fat cats/booker of shows at black cat/older brother-type figure promised to come see me. and fuck if i was going to bail on him. and fuck if i was going to miss my chance to show someone i musically and personally respected that i was worth listening to.

so go to friend who works at portofino and ask him to help set up my sound
"what? well i mean.... its only open mic. i mean youre gonna play for what, 20 min? why should i bother?"

"because its important to me. i have never asked you of anything save this. your time and compassion (ok so i wasnt that shakesperean and elegant, but whatever)"

and there was a tense refusal. and i was left without, yet another friend who failed to see my bones shaking for him to help me. but i never show and theyll never know and i like it better that way.

go home:restring guitar:have dula help me gain better ground and find another man to help: steve krugar.

and wow, thank god he was there. and helped despite of doubting my whole point of knowing i had talent and wasnt going to embarress him.

somebody's got to say it all. and he helped set up the entire sound and stayed the whole time and i played for an hour and a half and people listened and travis came and gave me a hug afterwards and it was glorious.

i felt someone was listening.

i felt i was heard.

god it felt nice. "i just wanna use your love tonight. i dont wanna loose your love tonight"

then, as me and steve put away all the equipment and i scarf down a piece of pizza, two redheads come up on stage wiothout any electronic help and being to wail.

and fuck if i felt like the entire night was fucking wasted. they had to be red heads, of coruse, and knew how to play bar chords....i hate bar chords.... my mom and sister and grandmother mocking me through other bodies at trying to do something like singing on my own. and she sounded great and the other red-headed friend played a swell slide guitar and i felt like an ass.

no one really feels the need to acknowledge when someone does something on their own and its good. like, hey man! it took balls to dance around that stage like a fairy boy! or hey girl, it took the heart of a lion to sing loudly about sex and fathers and loving someone who is scared to love you back.

and i guess i am satisfied that travis thought i did great. i really am. but its like the moment couldnt be mine or stay mine and it didnt matter that i had worked so hard for that hour on stupid portofino's stage to happen.

i walked home in black heels, black ski vest, and my massive guitar case alone.

sarah little saw me outside the saloon and made my efforts seem appreciated. chris veripappa stepped outside the saloon for two secs just to see how the evening went. and its those things, so small and seemingly insignificant that make it worth it: being vunerable i mean.

save when i get online and read a superawesome email from the one man i wish could see me and he still doesnt...but he wrote. and thats enough. he doesnt get to claim me though. why is it women have to be possessed? or controlled? let me speak! and i beg you listen.

i am yours, but you cannot manipulate me into something safe for you to wave at from across the street. and if you cannot hold me up close and look me in the eye you do not deserve me.

theres this supersweet picture of me when i was little intensely looking at my mom's vinyl "off the wall" album of michael jackson. dang, he could sing!

weird moods. isnt it always easier being alone? well, no its easier going out and being surrounded by people who are fine knowing what they assume about you or what you let them know. and when you dont give them anything, they can write an entire history including genealogy of your looks and emulations.

style is everything. but how far can you self styalize? if you deny a part of yourself and are found out, what then? i kept denying my emotional vunerability and part of my femininity and would get angry if people gentley passed through. like my selective permiability fell apart and all these proteins kept coming in and coming in and i couldnt stop it before it was too late and i had changed.

makes you wonder. and a friend, whom i havent even met yet, gave me the best compliment ever and said,

"you are a writer."

its nice when someone sees me so clearly and can give me something so precious. and i bet she has no idea how long ive been waiting for someone to really see me. and not expect me to jump or juggle or do a sparkely trick for them to be convinced. ive been standing naked for so long.

...anger. it is a woman
a beautiful woman being called upon to speak
to tell you what she thinks
knowing it could fall upon the deaf and dumb and blind
and yet she vocalizes anyways......

anger is a beautiful woman
longing to forget
longing to stop fighting against an invisible world
no one cares to acknowledge.
wanting to lay marylin monroe to rest.

----------------------

silent all these years...... hmm, it didnt work out too well for me. so i sing to fizzgig and those that dont understand the levity of my words. its harder when they're smart enough to understand what youre saying.

or, because you only ask for our thoughts outwardly and we give them to you and you fall in love, that we're the bad guys who tease....

hmmm i may be self-scripting this too much. but it happens. why do the fallen ones think they're always going to save me? i didnt need to be saved....but i did. but i can save myself. i feel like i have. but once i feel right with myself it is ....misconstrued. i think its so funny how its utterly impossible for me to be just as intelligent as you. and him. and him. and her, nice girl in the corner. why is it the less physically beautiful women are always given more credance in the intellectual department than others? please dont tell me we're still stuck in the "dumb blonde" stigmata of thought.....

this is where self stylization comes into play....accepting the physical unchangable about yourself and how other people view you....then responding with..."ok. if thats how you feel. take it, roll around with it. then come see me four years later and see how when you try to put this dress on, it doesnt fit"

le sigh. once again, a homosexual male in a fine woman's body. often people find it easier to deal with me when they assume im gay. im physically demonstrative with everyone. but it sucks when you loose friends because they listen to their friends and rearrange what occured. but i cant do anything about that. save listen. and try to show im not here to ensnare or trap or cause drama. only clarify my life for me. and its my life. i should hold a part of that at least.

and these words and my music are my saving grace. and i refuse to quell the good things, or not so awesome things, i notice about people. and usually they are right and unfortunately most do not want to hear them. "earmuffs kids, earmuffs." sometimes i get really angry with my parents for enstilling this conscious awareness of trying to being a good person. because it makes me feel so awkward and unable to diffuse myself among groups. masses. completely. making friends is easy. keeping them is hard. because you have to bleed and be something less than what they want you to be.

im in the mood for something other than being lectured to constantly. "you could get hurt" im not scared of that. my invisible battle scars make me wise.

mercy and love are in short supply everywhere. why try to shit on the people that are giving it away for free? there should be no justification for giving away what other people ask for and expecting nothing in return.

.......you helped me sing again. you deserve to be heard too. and taken however you wish to be taken. still here, only loving you...it makes me feel awesome and retarded at the same time. ta-da?

------------------------------

fuck.it.

and fuck anybody else who changes their own opinions of me because of it. whatever.

anyways. all i ever wanted to be was friends with this kid. i admire his wit and i think his girlfriend is really nice and cool. and i sometimes get very nice and welcoming vibes from him because he is smart and thinks for himself. and he sat me down and tried to tell me it would make my life easier if i would stop writing in such a public arena. because of what he hears people saying about me.

and i felt like he kept waiting for me to be petty and justify what several people have been saying about me. names? concrete situations? i commented about impressions and memories and timelessness.
but i wouldnt because its not the point of me writing this. im not here to "stir up drama". im here for a selfish reason and its basically just to write. and for other people to read and learn more about me that maybe, just maybe, they wouldn't believe when said face to face. and i feel like this has happened before but im not going to, once again, be a whipping boy for other group/mass insecurities. been there done that.

kinda tired of it really. all i wanna do is dance.

all i wanna do is be this kid's friend. yeah i think he is hot and im vocal about it. but hell, i think half the men in this town who are my friends are hot. this goes back to that one entry about how "harry and sally" screwed me over. i think men and women who are sexually attracted to each other can be friends. sex is a part of human interactions. but that doesnt mean i go there. gimmie some credit peeps.

i know he has a girlfriend. i respect that. id actually like to be friends with her, but am afraid she will be mean to me because i get along with her manfriend. so avoidance is key or has been. and i got mad at myself because when subsequent dude came to a party i felt retarded for acting retarded, but thats what you do at a dance party! i was afraid he would judge me on the fact that i was acting dumb and dancing crazily. because up until a week ago or so, i have been judged in this town by the people i hung out with. generalizations and labels fuck humans up and over and sideways all the time.

and i acted all snobby around to a couple really, really nice and awesome and goofy kids. and i could have kicked my own ass right there. its like watching you pull your own jenga block out from the bottom and knowing its gonna fall. i hope they accept my humble apologies.

and im not going to stop pushing people to think about me differently. all the time, i change and morph and grow and learn the whole time. i should be allowed to cry and laugh and have fun and make mistakes just like anybody else.

anyways. i hope hearing me sing helps people realize how much i love it and need that outlet. and i hope reading these stupid internet blogs help people realize im a lot more than you assume i am and am a lot less too. and i fucking love to write.

and i don't care what other people say about me. i care when my supposed friends or people id like to be around start listening to others instead of reacting to their personal awesome interactions with me. this is what inner security is. knowing that i put myself out there all the time and knowing it could be misinterpreted. but always willing to patiently reaffirm my sense of self for someone who asks.

and thats why i respect this dude. he came and asked me. it means alot. it takes balls and gumption and a heart of warm fuzzies. it shouldn't negate his intelligence. and i hope one day we can be friends. because he makes me laugh and can keep up with my verbal zinging.

"yes i know what you think of me
you never shut up..
but what if im a mermaid?"
--tori amos

ids portfolio is almost done, and dang! im so freakin proud of my badassness...basically im getting a degree in living artistically and reading alot. being able to explain logically why this art goes with this book and why these lyrics are integral to these chords and how they mesh.....

"moving towards a nonviolent, essential intimacy through metaphoric and intuitively-conscious communication using art therapy techniques."

im sorry, is there a hot piece of ass in the room right now? mwahaah thank you thank you.

gave leslie subsequent painting and will hopefully have enough time to try to get some sort of show at the nth with her and melissa. if not, the looking glass gallery in the student union is always open for business--im thinking water color and crayon and permanent marker.....

very talented but very self aware. why is self awareness so threatening to people? she handed me william faulkner's as i lay dying and started a waterfall of metaphors and imagery. we both commented on why we are near sighted and maybe this is a good thing.

i am not retarded. i am not delusional or not aware of whats going on. i simply dont care to let it affect me if it is negative. relativeness is bliss.