News

So since I've been home,I have gotten knocked up. I'm still not sure if it's a "congratulations" or an "I'm sorry". But if nothing else, it has definitely made me rethink my whole life. My future is a whole new mystery and I've had to take a real look at myself. Sooo, I went to therapy. I learned that I am bipolar, and I really don't know what else to say. It was hard to hear but it put everything in perspective. A lot made sense, and that was the worst part. I know that it's not the worst thing in the world but all I can think is how that is going to affect my soon to be family. I can't raise a child when I can't pull myself out of bed, or when I think that it's okay to act on impulses. Unfortunately, identifying it in itself is not enough to change it. So it's going to be a whole new struggle. Story of my life.

Underneath the mask

Frustrated

It's everywhere. Shamelessly advertised and openly criticized. SEX. The "Oh My God" factor can't be bigger with anything else. And for the women and men who are up late with nobody in their beds. I understand, I don't even watch television for fear that a Trojan vibrations commercial will come on and remind me how much sex I'm not having. It's like a drug, honestly, before you do it, there's no problem. But afterwards, dear lord, it's impossible not to think of. And I don't mean to think of it compulsively, but it slips in there every so often. Then you're left with the "Uuuuuuuggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh" and a hot or cold shower. Honestly, I sometimes wish I were a virgin. This would be much less problematic. So, for anyone looking for an answer other than porn. Try the food network ;) They are great at making you go from horny to hungry!

Market Whore

My name is everywhere, my every skill posted My phone number written in blocky script You can contact me anytime And if you post the coveted sign on your window I'll be at your door, offering my every service I appreciate the kindness And tolerate the rudeness That each potential owner shows I'll answer all your questions And smile through the doubts I promise I can please you If you only give me the chance And then once you let me go Saying you'll call and never do I bounce to the next window So boldly posting "Help Wanted" Though walking through your door I'm sure you don't think I can give it I hand you my resume and smile politely Knowing I'll be walking through doors That only lock on my way out For the rest of the day And waiting desperately by my phone Until someone sees I'm more than just the temp And much better suited to be the long term If you'd only let me

Hide and seek

Sitting in the kitchen on a brisk Wyoming spring day, sipping hot tea, listening to the wind outside howl outside, I find myself in a suspended state of peace. A pile of library books and Times magazine are spread over the table and Irish folk music flows from the small computer speakers. It's a cozy scene. It's just not the one I imagined myself a part of. At 18 years old, I assumed my life would be an exciting whirlwind of socializing and experiments. I think the adventurous, wild girl I always identified myself is slowly disappearing. And replacing her is the shy, nerdy girl that always stayed dutifully silent in social settings and drunken nights. A slight Jackell & Hyde effect. I've been taking it easy for days, indulging in the things I love but hide. Jazz music, hot tea, poetry, indie films, politics. All the things people my age have difficulty identifying with. I find myself wondering who I am. The girl, drunk and loud in a group of people, dancing like nobody is watching. Always down for an impulsive ride out to nowhere and good for adrenaline rushes. She's who I know. She spends her days smiling wide and on the run. Always flitting from one thing to another, only to stop at night, and even when she's alone, drinks until she passes out. It's always a drink and a relationship that promises to ignite fast and burn badly. Always a good story and a bad night. Then there's the girl that comes out when I'm alone. She loves the rain and hiking, reading good books and writing. She's the one barely managing to keep a blog alive. She's sweet, a little blunt and sometimes cold, but always means well. She's always there when the hangovers are gone and the parties over. Picking up the pieces of a fractured life and broken heart.. Sometimes I wonder if she's me when I'm happy, not trying to entertain. Just doing what makes me happy. She emerges when the boys are gone and the pressure to be perfect for someone else is gone. In a strange, quiet way, she's not as vulnerable as the girl desperate and stumbling, pouring another smile.