|Friday, September 24th, 2004|
12:27 am - Because I'm Nosey
What's the saddest song you ever heard?|
Or you know a list of them...
I just wanna know.
My list, in no particular order:
-"That the Way I Always Heard it Should Be" Carly Simon
My friends from college they're all married now
They have their houses and their lawns
They have their silent noons
Tearful nights, angry dawns
Their children hate them for the things they're not
They hate themselves for what they are
And yet they drink, they laugh
-"This Woman's Work" Kate Bush
I should be crying
But I just can't let it show
I should be hopping
But I can't stop thinking
All the things I should've said
That I never said
-Tears of the Dragon" Bruce Dickinson
Where I was, I had wings that couldn’t fly
Where I was, I had tears I couldn’t cry
My emotions frozen in an icy lake
-"All I Want is You" U2
You say you want Dimonds
and rings of gold...
And all I want is you
-"Brick" Ben Folds Five
Now that I have found someone
I'm feeling more alone
Then I ever have before
-"Captin Jack" Billy Joel
Saturday night and you're still hangin' around
Tired of living in your one horse town
you'd like to find a little hole in the ground,
-"Romeo and Juliet" Dire Straits
and all I do is miss you and the way we used to be
all I do is keep the beat the bad company
all I do is kiss you through the bars of Orion
julie I'd do the stars with you any time
|Wednesday, September 22nd, 2004|
This is my latest... Its no where near finished and I can't think of a good title|
It’s not the Big Apple, Sin City, La-La Land or Philly, this is Bingington New Hampshire. One hundred miles from the northern most cellular telephone service, fifty miles west of nothing. No one enters Bingington with the intention of staying and no one leaves without the intention of returning. Untouched by capitalism and modern industry, Bingington still holds the state record for the least traveled roads in New Hampshire.
“You’re good at your job Jody, not just for a chick, but just plain good. Look!” Ed opened to page 54 of this week’s Sports Illustrated. “Top Five Sports Agents in the Greater Boston Area, number three: Jody McKinley, that’s you girl!”
“I have to go home.” I was poking my wasabi with a chopstick.
“So go home loser, what are you leaving me with the bill?” Ed laughed at himself before filling his mouth with a tuna roll. Every Tuesday after work for the past two years Ed and I went out to Boston’s hot spot for young professionals: Sushi and Sake.
“No. Home home.”
“You mean cow Hampshire home?” I always found the term cow-Hampshire endearing and ironic, Bingington was home to more cows then people. “Why?”
“H.R. said they need a copy of my birth certificate, I don’t have another. Goddamn it. Gave them the only one I had fifteen years ago.” It wasn’t an exaggeration, I had been with my firm for almost seventeen years, a firm with a Human Resources department notorious for losing important documents.
“Fucking H.R,” we both laughed. “Why can’t you just have your town hall fax it to you?” Seemed logical enough.
“Because Bingington’s town hall is open for two hours a week,” I paused and finished my last slab of raw salmon. “Plus, there’s no fax machines in the whole damned town!”
“How in the…“ Ed trailed off as he said something to the waitress in Japanese and she handed him our bill, a language which how and when he learned to speak fluently, I‘ll never know. With that, Ed shook his head as he passed it over to my side of the table. I handed the waitress my plastic Visa and she smiled at the words Platinum and Preferred Customer across the top of the card and bowed to me.
“I’m telling you, I have to go home.”
“You want to go?”
Driving to Bingington in my Audi A4 listening to The Rolling Stones, I wondered if anything has changed in two decades of my absence. The drive long and lonely, is four hours from South Boston. Nothing. In small towns the scenery never changes, buildings stay the same and people do not change: my worst fear.
Route 63 looked just as it did twenty years ago, only then I was traveling in the opposite direction. The faded yellow dashes in the middle of the road must not have been repainted and the metal guardrails on either side made me wonder about the illusion of safety, they were too rusted to serve an actual purpose.
“Come with me.” Half asking, half demanding, I grabbed Ed’s arm. He had been my closest friend since moving to the city. We worked at the same firm and lived in the same building.
“No way Jo, you’re on your own here kiddo. I don‘t trust any town with a low Irish population,” he was a ‘Southie‘, nothing was going to pull him away from Boston and his beloved Charles.
“Thanks a lot,” I grumbled.
“Any time, love.” I stuck my tongue out at him, and like every time I had before that, he flipped me off.
The closer I got to my old town, my past, the more I thought it was not a good idea to be going back. I wished Ed was with me. Alone. I put on my blinker as I took exit 54. The remaining hour of the trip would be all back roads, that I knew, well. I started driving my mother’s pickup when I was 12, I knew every road within a fifty mile radius of Bingington by the time I was 15.
|Wednesday, September 8th, 2004|
In three months:|
I'll be 22 and
still in college...
No where near a graduation date.
If I'm not sensitive enough to be a social worker, and the communication department is full of bitchy assholes...then writing, I was always pretty good at it.
Today in my creative writing class, my piece was torn apart.
Granted it wasn't my best work, but still. It's fucking creative writing. I guess I just need to get back into the swing of writing, seeing as how I didn't do any this summer.
I don't think he liked it.
On a lighter note, it's the best time ever to be a Red Sox fan. This is great.
I saw car wash boy last night. He stopped by to surprise me, which I supposed was nice of him. He said he "was seeing" somebody this summer. I don't know if I trust him, I don't know if I trust anything with a penis. He assured me he didn't have a girlfriend.
I'm teetering on the verge of not caring (about him) anymore.
I don't want to care about any stupid boys anymore.
Let's review boys of the past few months:
Buddy (too damaged)
There was more but these are(were) the highlights.
Lets set some goals, shall we?
By the end of this month I would like to...
-See the Sox pass the Yanks in the division.
-Write a story my teacher likes, cus he has good taste.
-Figure out the car wash boy situation.
-get drunk at least once.
-Pick a fucking major and stick fucking to it already.
Sorry for the lengthy post.
|Monday, September 6th, 2004|
I guess I don't want to marry my future husband after all.|
That is all.
|Friday, September 3rd, 2004|
$162.90 on a fucking Spanish book.
I hate my life...
Maybe I can really marry my "future husband" now because I will actually be able to talk to him in "his" language.
I talked to carwash boy today. I guess we can see how that goes. The thing is it probably won't go anywhere because he probably won't call.
current mood: sleepy
|Tuesday, August 31st, 2004|
almost 300 dollars on books.
|Monday, August 30th, 2004|
1:15 pm - Back to Plymouth
I'd like to just say this summer was the worst best summer ever|
|Thursday, April 22nd, 2004|
12:00 am - Beauty is the most subjective adjective
A work in progress.|
Beauty applies to whatever excites the
keenest of pleasure and stirs emotion
through the senses.
I find beauty in many different places,
it is close as it is vast. I find beauty
in humor and the laughter others.
I see it in film,
or maybe in a rock formation
that once looked similar to a man‘s profile.
I hear it in the voices
of Dean Martin and Elvis Costello.
I can taste beauty in
a perfectly made peanut butter
and jelly sandwich. I can feel it
on a humid summer day, or a wet
and rainy spring night. Baseball is beautiful,
science is beautiful, arguments are beautiful
and misconception is beautiful. My dog,
though homely, is beautiful. Beauty
can be found at the drop of a dime,
or the swing of an axe. Politics are beautiful
the way a rose is beautiful.
Existence is beautiful.
|Tuesday, April 20th, 2004|
I should be writing a speech but I'm too pissed.|
Yea that is all.
current mood: irate
|Sunday, April 4th, 2004|
My Ire, My Indignation|
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My Ire, My Indignation
<Eat a third and drink a third and leave the remaining third of your stomach empty. Then, when you get angry, there will be sufficient room for your rage.
<i>"Speak when you are angry--and you will make the best speech you'll ever regret"</i>
J Peter Lawrence (1919 - 1988)
having that been said…
I’m all sorts of irritated.
The CHAT Committee (Chemical Health Advisory Task Taskforce)
One word: Lame.
personally, I don’t trust any committee that has the words chemical and taskforce in the title.
Roughly 6 meters
have you noticed the cigarette filter receptacles are all on the sides of buildings?
So tell me, MR Wharton, are we going to place ashtrays randomly around campus, provided they are 20 feet from any building, window or entryway?… picturesque to say the least.
That will be pretty.
Plymouth is pretty isn’t it? The clouds, the grass, the trees, the air
GET OVER IT!
The day colleges become ivy league for having ambiance…
The day prestige is measured by how many daffodils grow amid the spring air in front of the student union building… then tell me how pretty Plymouth is…
How is this spring going for us?
-5 degrees, 55 degrees, sun, rain, sleet, hail, fog, drizzle snow all in the same day… if you don’t like the weather in new England, wait 15 minuets, it will change.
These past couple years have been pretty harsh, you think mother nature is menopausal?
the concept of Menopause scares the living daylights out of me, therefore I shall not touch it with a 10 foot pole.
Monkeys scare me as well.
animals that look like, think like and can communicate similar to humans are no good, even downright useless to my overall well being.
My personal definition of a an animal is “lacking opposable thumbs”
“oh my dog can’t ride a bike because he doesn’t have opposable thumbs” or
“so and so’s hamster can’t do crosswords puzzles because she doesn’t have opposable thumbs”
seems logical enough to me.
WELL THANK YOU ALMIGHTY CREATOR FOR GIVING MONKEYES OPPOSABLE THUMBS.
And while we are at it thank you for making recreation drug use illegal,
Barney the big purple dinosaur, birthday parties, Oprah, decaffeinated coffee, the power rangers, Disco, the emotion commonly referred to as jealously, communism, illness due to excessive drinking I.E. hangovers, that aroma omitted by skunks and art.
I don’t understand art.
Probably I never will.
Seems to me anything can be called art.
A dot on a blank stoic canvas sells at an art auction for half a million dollars, doesn't that irk anyone?
Artists use colors like Periwinkle, salmon, Burt sienna, lemon, cornflower, chartreuse, mauve, scarlet, ocher, fawn, russet, cream, azure, crimson and olive.
What color is your shirt? Salmon and chartreuse, Sorry no one talks like that.
Artists can get away with certain… taboos, simply by labeling it art, people suddenly… well get it.
a small child in a blender… do not be alarmed Mr child protective services agent, it’s art.
Soon artists will get away with murder of children, and that’s ok but people think I’m crazy because once I killed a fish.
I didn’t want a fish anymore, I have attention deficit disorder,
I didn’t want to clean it anymore, granted I was only 12
It smelled up my room and took up minuets of my precious day to care for the wretched creature
so I flushed it.
please have pity on my mortal soul.
mortal soul… that’s relatively gothic sounding.
Goth is another sub-culture I fail to really identify with.
If I am right about this which I most likely am, they are between the ages of 13-17, they loath their existence, sleep a lot, drink a lot of coffee and listen to somber music…
If you hate yourself so much and all you want to do is sleep away your pathetic excuse for a life … stop drinking coffee.
coffee has caffeine, caffeine keeps you awake, awake means you are not sleeping…
my little sister’s screen name is gothgirl15.
Instant message is an entity in and of itself.
what I really need is a little box that pops up while I am trying to write a paper. PSUGUY79 wants to know “sup”. I would love to take time out of my busy schedule to tell him “sup”
Instant messaging programs have single handedly destroyed my generations grammar
while we are on the subject can we just reiterate the fact that away messages are not a viable source for commutation, therefore any shady deals made through them are not legally binding.
The worst thing to happen to the internet folks, 3 letters… A O L
Communication has gotten to be ominous to me…
Cellular telephones are getting out of control…
I’d be willing to bet that there are more ring sounds then there are people who have cell phones…
Therefore, everyone can stop checking their cell phones when one in a room rings… you know your ring, you know it wasn’t your ring and you do not look cool opening your little flip phone
trust me, I know cool…
you know Johnny Cash…
Yea I have a lot of his records.
Who is Johnny Cash? I simply state “he is the man in black”
That is what I like to refer to as an asinine question.
There is a whole host of asinine questions I refuse to answer.
what day of the week is it?
where is my pen?
is it snowing out?
what are you reading?
what is the population of the united states…
I don’t know, I reply, a lot.
I don’t know.
Fact: it is possible to have a love affair with 3 words
How do you blow someone off in point 2 seconds?
How do you end a seemingly endless conversation?
I don’t know.
why is it that I can no longer smoke in front of the hub?
I don’t know?
Because you are within
Roughly 6 meters
Of a building, window or entryway.
|Sunday, March 14th, 2004|
The only problem with ending a really bad relationship? |
My cell phone rings 1/4 as much as it used to. (hehehhehee)
Like I always say... on to the next, or you know, not.
I didn't go out tonight, or last night for that matter. Thats 2 non-school nights in a row that I avoided a bar stool. BUT! I did however manage to visit Hooters.
My mother threatened to pack up and skip town to Iowa, but I know shes talking crunk. (She's afraid of flying and she was laughing while she was telling me.)
I think I'm going to post my speech,
THAT I ONLY GOT A 92 ON DESPITE THE FACT THAT IT IS PURE UNADULTERATED GENIUS!!
But I'm not sure if anyone wants to read it that has not already been forced to hear it, Perhaps at a later date.
current mood: indifferent
|Thursday, March 11th, 2004|
I'm still alive.|
I didn't fall off the face of the earth.
My better judgement was on a short hiadius.
Logic and reason took a roadtrip into my past and dropped me off in the 7th grade.
Not one of my better years I must add. It's the first time that I can ever recal my childhood comming back to kick my while I'm down.
I'm not useless.
I'm not fat.
I'm not stupid.
I'm not dumb.
I'm better then he is.
He doesn't deserve me.
I've said before I'll say it again...
I'm a cool fucking chick goddamnit!!!!!
so I'm here.
I'm single again...
|Monday, February 23rd, 2004|
It's funny how music has such a big impact on me and my moods. |
(My brain radio is rather extensive.)
Today is day one of my spiritual enlightenment.
I don't know why I'm doing this...
Sometimes I get crazy ideas in my head and I just need to try them...
(Like the time I thought it would be awesome to be a tortured artist,
or the time I wanted to have a 10 gallon fish tank,
or the time I wanted to be a social worker [hahahahahahahah],
or the time I wanted to learn to dance,
or the time I wanted pink hair,
or the time I wanted to learn how to speak Hawaiian [aloha],
Well you get the picture.)
I want to learn yoga
And open my chakras.
This will last all of 10 minuets, I'm sure.
I really do have ADD when it comes to hobbies and personal interests.
It's not that I'm fickle,
It's not that I'm... whatever,
It's not that I'm stupid.
What I'm passionate about yet.
This stems back to my
I'm only 21 complex and
My I don't need to know everything complex.
current mood: giggly
|Wednesday, February 18th, 2004|
I had this really crazy dream last night...|
There was flowers involved.
And a hospital.
And empty promises.
And valid threats.
I was getting yelled at.
There some kind of restraints on me.
No one was there but
My head hurts.
My chest hurts.
My throat hurts.
I'm hemorrhaging like a 12 year old girl.
I haven't left the house today, I'm not going to classes.
I'm not well.
I lost my ID again.
I wicked suck.
I don't understand why I'm so scatter-brained.
I can't pay attention to anything.
A long time ago, I taught myself to not worry about anything
and it stuck.
I think everyone I know needs to have some fun.
Some good, clean and or dirty, funny fun.
Including me. Big time.
I'm about to ball up
on a very uncomfortable couch,
in the fetal position
You're an idiot.
current mood: sick
|Thursday, February 12th, 2004|
12:43 am - Subject: (optional)
I'm not in a great mood right now, although I have no reason to not be or ground to stand on. It's not bad but nonetheless, not good. Plus this is the third fucking time I've tried to write this entry. I keep losing it.|
I prepared myself for the inevitable "no" all week, I knew it was coming, I'm not stupid. Just don't tell me the real reason why, and I'll be fine.
2 Rhetorical Questions:
As asked by Becki Brown
When's the part where everyone else realizes that EVERYBODY is fucked up and a little bit psycho and twisted and detached and unhinged? (Seriously. None of you are special.)
When do I figure out that I can not write unless I'm pissed off and livid and efforts under any other circumstances are futile? (Just wondering.)
Thus concludes our rhetorical questions for the night. Thank you.
I hate it when I think someone is lovely and eloquent and charismatic and intelligent only to shortly thereafter discover the harsh reality of them being rude, dumb, uncultured, sheltered, boring, twitchy, pushy and just all around creepy.
So long and thanks for all the sketchyness.
And I hate HATE HATE asinine questions. Don't even bother. I won't listen.
I want to go into more detail and say names, but I think this person reads my journal, and I don't feel like explaining myself. It's probably not who you think. If you want to know...
I'm just a cliche metaphorical question,
And everyone knows the answer.
current mood: confused
|Tuesday, February 3rd, 2004|
11:42 pm - Crazy...
You're all insaine...|
There's something about that Ocean water that makes everyone loopy.
My new theory on life:
People want to be offended constantly, it gives them something to bitch about.
The problem is, the "offenders" aren't offending the "offendie" nearly as much as they require.
So the "solution" is...
People take everything out of context and perceive it in a way that they can be offended by it.
Don't talk to me.
Don't talk to my friends.
And after this weekend: I breathe again.
I know that she's not perfect|
But she tries so hard for me
And I thank God that she isn't
Because how boring would that be
It's the little imperfections
It's a sudden change in plans
When she misreads the directions
And we're lost but holding hands
Yeah, I live for little moments like that
When she's laying on my shoulder
On the sofa in the dark
And about the time she falls asleep
So does my right arm
And I want so bad to move it
Because it's tingling and it's numb
But she looks so much like an angel
That I don't wanna wake her up
Yeah, I live for little moments
When she steals my heart and it doesn't even know it
Yeah, I live for little moments like that
|Monday, February 2nd, 2004|
It's that feeling again|
I don't want to eat, I can't sleep.
I'm smiling but there's no validity to it.
I always thought I was too strong, too smart, too independent, too above it all to allow a single person get to me like this.
I wonder where you are and what you're doing sometimes.
I wanna know if you ever think about me and miss me.
I'm tired already.
I am gay.
I miss you.
|Sunday, February 1st, 2004|
"People love you when they know you're leaving soon." |
John Gorka, "The Gypsy Life"
I miss you a little, I guess you could say that, a little too much; a little too often and a little more each day.
Beware the fury of a seemingly patient girl.
An angry man opens his mouth and shuts up his eyes.
|Tuesday, January 27th, 2004|
What is it about me that attracts boys that don't want relationships?|
What is it about boys who don't want relationships but starting them anyway?
You know the "attachment spech", well I'm an expert at receiving it.
It goes something like this...
Step 1: Meet guy, date a little, make sure you have lots of fun on dates.
Step 2: Spend lots of time together.
Step 3: This is where it gets a little complicated. Usually it starts with something like "we have to talk" and then goes something like so "I'm not looking for a relationship right now" or "don't get attached to me I just want something casual".
If I have to hear that bullshit again I'm gunna be pissed.
Don't start a stupid relationship under false pretenses.
If that doesn't have complex written all over it, I don't know what does.
I feel bored again.
I've had this feeling before.
How long do you sit around and wait for something to happen?
I suppose I could go out and make things happen but I don't have the first idea on how to do that.
Plus I don't know what I want to happen, just something.
Maybe an asteroid could hit the earth.
Or maybe someone I know could hit the lottery.
Perhaps I could break a leg or something... but that's no fun.
My old roommate Nicole had a dream that my house caught on fire and my mom and I died, that fucking sucks. I hope shes not one of those people who can see the future in her dreams.