last of summer is delight

"The last of Summer is Delight
Deterred by Retrospect.
'Tis Ecstasy's revealed Review
Enchantment's Syndicate.
To meet it -- nameless as it is
Without celestial Mail --
Audacious as without a Knock
To walk within the Veil."

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- Emily Dickinson, The Last of Summer is Delight

voluntarily drowning

"my bars are filled with broken bottles and my nightstands are filled with open bibles"

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~ lil wayne & eminem

to end is to begin

If I commit suicide, it will not be to destroy myself but to put myself back together again. Suicide will be for me only one means of violently reconquering myself, of brutally invading my being, of anticipating the unpredictable approaches of God. By suicide, I reintroduce my design in nature, I shall for the first time give things the shape of my will.

ANTONIN ARTAUD, "On Suicide"

Lammas Harvest Ritual - 1 August

The power of the Harvest is within me. As the seed falls to the earth and is reborn each year, I too grow as the seasons change. As the grain takes root in the fertile soil, I too will find my roots and develop. As the smallest seed blooms into a mighty stalk, I too will bloom where I landed. As the wheat is harvested and saved for winter, I too will set aside that which I can use later.
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source: http://www.dowhatyewill.com/lammas_ritual

an idiot on the wrong side of the door

(my Facebook "Note")

the past few months have been stupid. besides fucking annoyingly ridiculous (and one horrific experience), there really is no other way to describe it. in an effort to keep things private and limit my long winded rant to a few paragraphs instead of my normal dissertation, i will skip to the events of this morning...

here it goes....

today i wope up with energy all ready to work out and enjoy one more work day til the weekend. now, even more energized post-work out, i went to get food for my cat and an atkins breakfast bar for me. returning with the food, i went to open my bedroom door but the fucker was locked. i turned the doorknob both ways (cuz you know, THAT makes sense), pushed on it (making sense again) and then called my cat's name - as if he had something to do with it and could help me get in. obviously it still didn't open. then it hit me - the door locks from the inside! how the fuck does a door lock itself? perplexed and now confident my cat wasn't responsible, i walked around to the other door and tried to open that. it was locked as well but i already knew that cuz i locked it a year ago. (worth a shot) i tried the main door again in case it changed its mind and felt like opening the fuck up. its mind wasn't changed, so i hit it. i knew this fiasco would make me late for work so i went to the kitchen to use the cordless phone (my cell was in my room) and, of course, the damn little bitch wasn't charged. (shocker) if the phone was mine i would have hit that too. soon it dawned on me that the best way to charge a phone is to plug the son of bitch in (genius). so i did. i started to get ready in all ways that i could without a change of clothes, my glasses, etc., so i would be less delayed for work when i finally, with the powers of my mind and a chant of "open sesame", got the door open, or until my landlord could help me - whichever came first. my attempts at telekinesis failed, as usual, so i decided to check on the cordless to see if it had an adequate charge to call in. it did. so there i was calling in to say "i have been locked out. i am waiting for a key. i have no idea how long this will take so i am officially calling out. should the door be opened before the end of my frickin shift, i will let you know and come to work immediately." this was the stupidest reason i have ever called out. it is a friday, which like a monday, is never a good day to call out. basically i looked like an irresponsible moron. (not the first time, i'll admit). because i can be neurotic sometimes (ha! she said 'sometimes'!), i began to panic about what my employers would think of this foolishness. to get through the panic, i decided to clean. (yes mom, i said clean). underneath my law and art history books i found some bills. i almost freaked out cuz they were obviously late until i realized i haven't made money doing overtime due to reasons alluded to iin the opening paragraph) so i couldn't pay them anyway. (wooo, what a relief!) next i cleaned out my refrigerator which is the size of a keg so i was finished in 3 seconds. but i found sugar free jello and ate it. hey, if you are going to stress eat, be thankful it's sugar/carb free. i tried the door again. why? who the fuck knows! maybe to remind myself that i called out for a real reason and i tried all i could to get it open so i could actually show up for work after being out so often (referenced above). or maybe because i thought the bastard door got over its anger at being hit and decided to open as a gesture of forgiveness. apparently it was still mad. i decided to do crunches. (if you are going to be locked out you may as well have toned abs). i considered going to work anyway - fucked up hair, the boy shorts i slept in and bra-less. a very hot and appropriate look. (culdn't call friends to help with clothes cuz i haven't memorized a number since i got my first cell phone nor could i even go with my oh so sexy sleep clothes because my keys were in my room too and i live way too far to walk) so i cleaned my bathroom. i remembered that i had left my laptop on the "kitchen" table last night (took long enough, ass). so i then decided to write this note. (lucky you)

so here i sit... outside of a locked door, messing up punctuation and grammar, bitching about shit no one on facebook cares about, wondering when the hell i will gain access to my room.

good times.

eyes

i woke up just a few minutes ago....
though i haven't woken up completely....
not today or any day.

i assume one day with all the stretching, eye rubbing, and caffeine chugging
i will wake up for good

i fear, however, that when the eyes close again at night
all of my waking up will fade
and when they open again
i will have regressed back into the sleeping
child?
adult?
no, child
i was prior

the child i still am now.

i see things that an adult sees through these 31 year old eyes
but i feel them as a toddler would

raw
new
scary
threatening
abandoning
traumatizing

maybe that was just my child eyes
and maybe that's why they closed
and never again opened

coulda been worse....
that is what i always say
because they always said that...
all of those "theys" in my life...
trying to reduce my pain instead minimizing my experiences....

i couldn't take ownership of anything i felt...
it was always "too" & "over"
too much
too far
too loud
too sad
over reacting
over exaggerating

coulda been worse....
and i guess i should be thankful
and i am... i really am

but whatever it was still sits on my eye lids
heavy and strong

__________________
tag later

to be purged of me

"i've freed myself from this compulsion of eating. when i wake, i am empty, light, light-headed; i like to stay this way, free and pure, light on my feet. for me, food's only interest lies in how little i need, how strong i am, how well i can resist -- each time achieving another small victory of the will; one carrot instead of two, half a cracker, no more peas. each gain makes e stronger, purer, larger in my exercise of power, until eventually i see no reason to eat at all."

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http://www.blue-dragonfly.org/welcome.html

my mouth, my legs

just like my mood disorder - which changes my diagnosis upon each type of swing... cyclothymia, borderline, bipolar 2, dysthymia... all of them - my eating disorder constantly changes.... anorexic, bulimic (laxatives - hotness, i know), binging/overeating... EDNOS... all of em...

i am a normal, healthy dieter for a little and then i get addicted to the weight loss and the associated attention... then i get obsessed and take it too far.... the attention makes me feel "on stage" and at first, i love it.... but then it makes me feel "exposed".... "vulnerable"... a "pre-victim".... so i wana lose more.... anything to make them stop texting me; stop asking me on dates; stop checking out my rack or ass since i starved them off of me.... i am afraid of the borderline doppleganger psycho slut that lives inside of me - hidden under layers of fat and sobriety.... she comes out when i am thin.... when i am drinking.... and she sluts her way through the night, through the work place, through the taken and unavailable men... all and any man....

when fat they don't look
when sickly they don't look

i miss the looks but know i cannot handle them

so i bring the attention and determination back to the opening/closing of my mouth
it is the only way i can control the opening/closing of my legs

walking with storms

I long ago abandoned the notion of a life without storms, or a world without dry and killing seasons. Life is too complicated, too constantly changing, to be anything but what it is. And I am, by nature, too mercurial to be anything but deeply wary of the grave unnaturalness involved in any attempt to exert too much control over essentially uncontrollable forces. There will always be propelling, disturbing elements, and they will be there until, as Lowell put it, the watch is taken from the wrist. It is, at the end of the day, the individual moments of restlessness, of bleakness, of strong persuasions and maddened enthusiasms, that inform one's life, change the nature and direction of one's work, and give final meaning and color to one's loves and friendships.

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"unquiet mind" kay redfield jamison

standing outside the orphanage

i wonder if my lack of self identity and the need to be defined by others has "forced" me to reject the real me and that is why i can't find her...

and when i think i see her out of the corner of my eye, looking at me from the orphanage window, i run away in shame....
shame of what others might think of her (this "real me")...

shame i haven't taken care of her...
shame i abandoned her...

a daughter i gave up for adoption who asks why

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(horribly written... but what-fuckin-ever)