the 7th house.

maybe i’m way to in to astrology. maybe i’m a weirdo. maybe i just like the stars because they clarify for me, and the rest of the world, just why i am so crazy relationship obsessed.

maybe it doesn’t matter. because i am weird. i do go through phases. my mom would like to hope astrology is a phase– but i wonder how much of a phase christianity was, or alcoholism, or smoking marlboros? i mean it all could just be a phase.

just a phase.

i left for florida yesterday at noon. we stopped off at the University of Illinois to pick clara up, stayed over and then left this morning at 8:30. I’m in Atlanta right now. we are at a hotel watching HGTV and TLC and i keep wishing “what not to wear” would come on. i’m hungry as fuck, and i’m pissed.

i read a book on the trip today– an entire one. the book was a lost-love story. and it made me get all introspective. and i hate that shit, or maybe it’s everything i am. maybe i just am all introspective and shit. that may not be a phase.

but what of love? what of my love? for the time being i do not have love.

there was this guy. i think i liked him. or you know, the day before he pretty much ran away from me, was the day i realized that i did like him. the day i realized how much of an idealist i am, and how i lead people on, and how i need to be legit, and yada yada yada– it comes back and punches me in the face and i am left with nothing. because it never matters what i think. i’m obviously not dateable. not even for a boy who’s venus is in scorpio. (just look that up.) not even for those boys i supposedly “don’t give chances.” everyone gets a chance, but the key is to not know when you’re being evaluated. so why would i wait til you prove you’re a huge liar, by pretending to be everything i want? yeah. think about it.

so, right when i decide that i’m going to let this guy in, he immediately decides to back off me, and probably go fuck someone else.

and that’s why i don’t have sex, and that’s why i’m never in love, and that’s why i am a CONQUEST. and a conquest only.

yeah, it’s really cool to be 23 and single, because then everyone wants to be the one to get you. but, when they get me, they win. go them. go you. go everyone! you win. why does the whole of the male gender want me to lose?

and this is a rant. whatever. but i’m going to be going over this in my head, again, the entire time i’m here. at least i’ll come back tan. and then for a split second he might think he made the wrong choice. and then he’ll go back to fucking that other whore. because no, he doesn’t like me, even being pretty doesn’t save you from being alone. contrary to popular belief. (and it doesn’t help that my face broke out and i’m ugly as shit right now.)

i’m really this insecure? this bad at decision making? am i really not okay with anything that life has to offer?

the day i left on vacation, i went to the (nucca) chiropractor. i’ve been going to him for two years. he has always been a dick to me. this day was no exception. so needless to say, i didn’t take it. and left him without being treated. i actually argued with the man, told him he was a money monger, and walked out in a storm, and told him to treat me like i was 23. this man, is another man that has prejudged me for the past 2 years. like i’m not stressed enough realizing that the guy i like just doesn’t think i’m that great. i have to deal with this disgusting man who holds his practice out of palatine.

…and now my sister is sitting next to me and it is annoying the shit out of me and i’m gonna punch her in the face.

sometimes people say that they need a vacation. i haven’t had one for three years. i don’t think this could come soon enough. but it’s only been 2 days, i’m with my family, and i just want a cigarette and a beer.

i wonder if i promise to go to church when we come home, if they’ll let me smoke in peace.

if i believed in god, i would tell him to stop fucking with my life, and if he did create me in this way, he should probably give me what he created me to want. is that so much to ask? i want one fucking thing. one thing.

where the fuck is it?

make it a double.

make.
a move.
like a movie.
i’m responsive.
i’m unresponsive.
you’re irresponsible.
i might be everything.
but not enough to have.
bartender. quit your day job.
everything you want is right here.

you had me at hello.
you had me at goodbye.
you kissed my mouth like a little boy
in the park by the swing sets.
it’s like you saw me eating the apple my mom gave me
and it made you smile.
my braids made you smile.
my cute dress made you smile.

do you smile when you’re alone?
do you think of me today. tomorrow, will you?
and i gave you a guitar to play your heart out.
and you gave me a kiss to pull my hair out.
was it goodbye, was it hello?
was it a walk in the woods to the sound of birds that sound like they’re dying.
we might all be dying.
the smoke from my lips, form the dying cigarette.
you tell me i’m smoking filter now.
i tell you, you’re smoking weed.
go on boy, go do your thing.
i’ll be here, with the same old. same old.
and we’ll go on our way.
down the street in your black car.
the one i hated before i knew you.
the one i hated even now.
and we’ll listen to your black music.
the kind i liked before i knew you.
the kind i liked even now.

go faster boy.
shut your mouth white girl.

trust me you say.
you don’t have to say.
trust me like the ones you did before.
i never trusted them.
and i wonder if love isn’t at first sight.
not like love you see in the movies.
not like when the blue eyed boy makes a move.
not like when the tall boy with the nice back, treats you right.
not like when everything you thought, falls though your fingers.
not like when you trail off when you talk.
not like when i loved everyone, before i met you.
not me, not i. no. no love at first sight.

i feel your mouth on mine.
i can breathe you in.
and we will fall asleep like this.
intertwined like the memory of all the moments i’ve passed you on the street.
and never realized.
maybe this could be.
who knows.
you had me at hello.

astrology faces.

my favorite features. part 1:

“The Sag Smile.”

yeah. if you are a sag, chances are you have a good smile. you might be the most insecure sign in all of astrology, but you sure can “light up a room.”




“The Cancer Eyes”

so you’re always on the verge of tears. i get it. i can see it in your beautiful eyes.

love, actually.

i’m a little sick. a little bit congested. wondering. pondering love… as usual.

is this what i want? to jump head first into a situation that will only leave me heartbroken and alone, worse off than before? i want to be loved. really loved. that’s my astrological seventh house bullshit. or maybe it’s in everyone. and maybe there are some things to be said about the human heart that just can’t be explained by the stars.

i’m here, and i know why. i can read, write, think myself into it a million times over. but still, i want to know what everyone else knows. what it feels like to feel contented in a relationship with another person… but really, what about the relationship i have with myself? it’s everything i could ever want, and i constantly feel like i need more. like what more? i live an enviable life. i do. i am never alone. there is never a moment in time that i cannot call someone and meet up for a drink, a cigarette, or just a hug. if all else fails i can crawl into bed with my sister, and just talk.

i’ve never thought my life would be this way. companionship from all walks of life. anywhere. i have too many friends sometimes. like it’s a curse to be wanted everywhere. but you know, i love it. and being single gives me the ability to be anywhere at the drop of a hat.

i should be thankful that people actually like me. i should be in love with my stupid mediocre suburban life, because at least people want me there. and some people will never feel this way.

and all i do is complain that i’m not in love. fuck that. i am in love. i’m in love with my friends, and my stupid job, and my family, and boys. i love boys. they are so dumb and yet so interesting, and i do love them. i love them for hating me, because it’s cute that they are that mad that they couldn’t catch me, and tie me down. i love them for loving me, because douchebags and all, it’s always flattering.

so you know what it comes down today? the major epiphany of the evening? i’m so in love with everything, that i cannot deal with any man that loves me for the wrong reasons, or that loves something else a little bit more than me. i am so selfish with this love. this love that i think only i know anything about.

don’t choose that girl over me. don’t say god made you not want to date me. don’t choose weed over me. i want it all. i want you to be beautiful, sweet, and totally available with no vices, no other problems. i want you to be able to take care of me when i need it, and run away when i’m too busy for you. i want my cake, and i want to eat it, too– with whip cream, and a fucking cherry.

is this immaturity? is it a problem i can get over? is it anything i could ever change? or am i set in these impossible standards? i’m not afraid of love. i “get” love. and maybe that’s my problem. maybe love is not as deep and meaningful as i’ve known it to be. maybe love just is. and i got my love. love, actually is… all around.

and maybe we’re supposed to have fun with life. and love can be fun. love can just be simple. love can be shallow if that’s all i can handle. love can be deep if that’s what i need it to be. but love isn’t going to pull you in, if you run away from the first real thing that walks your way.

i’ve got my love, in more ways than one. i’m lucky. lucky in love.

love, actually is… mine.

let’s get ours.

i think i did it again…

i don’t ever give myself enough chances. i do something stupid, i look a certain way, and i believe it becomes so easy to let me go. no one will ever be willing to take the bad in with the good, if it’s me.

it could be that i am just a big ball of insecurity. or maybe there is truth to my track record. either way, i got sick today, and couldn’t articulate my thoughts. and now i’m trying to imagine who could actually like anything i have to offer? i’m a trainwreck.

funny thing is, it’s okay for everyone else to be flawed. but it’s never okay for me, in my eyes.

i watched bridget jones diary today.

“i like you very much. just as you are.”

that would be nice.

he’s my ride home.

i know what is real. and that’s all i know. this shallow, insecure void is real. and i’m searching for something that just does not exist. something that everyone seems to have. but things are not what they seem, and it ends this way, i never know what i want.

i went to a psychic store today. the owner saw my aura the moment i walked in. she frowned at me. maybe i am not as put together as i thought– oh wait, i never thought anything of a sort.

i don’t know if i want to be put together. i can’t imagine that it would make me a better writer, or a better member of society, or even a better person. i mean i’m all about working on myself, but who wants a girl with a white aura, when you can have one with a muddy shit colored underdeveloped aura? who even reads auras? freaking psychos read auras.

i’ve been behind on my friends lately. i visited some old ones. i wanted to punch them all in their underdeveloped faces and chubby bellies. the ones that drink just to socialize, and look down on me for drinking my share of 12 beers, 2 shots, then smoking a pack of cloves. fuck the self-righteous church going brat packs, and their inability to shut their mouths when they are talking about me, in front of me.

i like myself a little more today. i’m okay with my lushness. i’m also okay with my aura. i’m also okay with my insecurity. you know i blew a boy off today, because i liked him too much to call? who does that? i do.

he held my hand and looked into my eyes.
it would be nice to look back at everyone else, and say,
yes, he’s with me.
the boy with the beautiful brown eyes.
we’d make everyone jealous.

we’ll always have to see.
i’m still a trainwreck with a discolored aura.

but he’s my ride home tonight.

faith in a fast cars.

i would hope that no one is like me. i mean, we are all different. so the odds that you are so unlike me, are good. i’m an infp– introverted, intuitive, feeler, perceiver. i like the smell of lavender mint– my friend has this candle, it smells like orgasm. i would hope you don’t get turned on when a boy brushes against you with his elbow, on accident. i’m a libra with a pisces ascendent and a moon in taurus. i would hope your life consists of a little more fire. my air, water, earth thing, just doesn’t balance anything nicely.

i would hope you don’t understand me in the least bit. because if you do, you might have drawn your life out in your head when you were little, and are now forever disappointed with how wrong you were. you might spell words wrong. you might fall in love with everyone at first sight. you might always wonder if you’re settling. you might constantly have men hating you for leading them on, even though you never had sex with them. you might cry, because you think someone doesn’t like you.

i would hope that you are nothing like me. not because i suck. not because i’m not unusually beautiful. not because no one likes me. but just because at times like this when your mind is so consumed with ideas, and thoughts, and emotions that you completely made up, you kind of want to kill yourself– or at least punch yourself in the brain.

i would hope that you don’t put all your faith in fast cars.

“You said it was suicide
on the Fourth of July.
I say it saved my life.
I just wish you had died.”
–The Format

diet pepsi.

who drinks that anyway? i do, when i can’t find diet coke.

at harper, there are pepsi machines lining the walls. but to find diet coke, you must go on a hunt. i am so glad to be done with school.

this semester was disgusting.

do you ever spend days wondering if there is god? like devoting your mind to the concept of deity? if you haven’t thought about it, do you feel guilty for not thinking of it?

sometimes i wish i hadn’t devoted my entire life to church. maybe then i’d feel like searching for god was more of an exciting adventure than just something i always did, and eventually decided not to do.

really there is no spark there. just guilt. guilt for the things i do, and the things i am, and the things i want to do. somehow i have found that by giving up on a god, i have felt better about who i am. i may have no purpose, no drive, no love, but i never had those anyway.

now, i don’t have people telling me i’m a rebel, when the majority of the world thinks i’m a saint. i still have my demons to face, but i don’t have a million people in front of me telling me how to face them.

thinking about god, makes me think about good, god-fearing people. and i hate most of them. fucking uptight, pharisees afraid to admit their faults, because they don’t need another sin to confess to jesus before they fall asleep. so they just expect the best of others, and judge those who fall short.

i really wonder why anyone would want to be friends with my old friends. personality-less, fame-seeking, bible-thumping whores. and when they die and go to heaven, i hope they get their medals for all the lives they hurt, the esteems they lowered, and the minds they fucked with.

dear god, if there is a god, why are all your followers worse than those who deny you?

i believe in god. but it’s been over three years, and still haven’t gained back any respect for his people.

wow. i wonder where all that came from.

the summer of george.

this semester/spring, i have grown 12 new gray hairs.

i must say that i cannot wait to not have to deal with school. work, party, sleep, work, drink, pool, sun, drink, sleep, party, work.

no love. i’m sick of it. it’s consuming my brain. and i am done. no love. no more. no love. for anyone. (and please refrain from getting mad at me for not choosing to love you in particular). i hate being a libra with a pisces ascendent in times when the economy is bad, and all the good men are gone. (i might be currently obsessed with astrology).

concerts.

vegas. august.

cubbies.

florida. june.

me.

this is the agenda. feel free to swing me away to some other exotic land. and if you are a rich man, how bout you take me out, no strings attached, and i’ll give you the best five seconds of your life.
no. joke.

it’s the summer of george.

god i wish i wasn’t so inherently witty, beautiful, and intelligent. i wish i wasn’t such the air, cardinal, interpersonal and inanimate sign. i wish i wasn’t so fucking deep, yet perfectly shallow at the same time. god, i wish everyone didn’t want me so bad. i’m sure george feels the same way.

the timeless art of seduction.

“It became very clear to me sitting out there today that every decision I’ve made in my entire life has been wrong. My life is the complete opposite of everything I want it to be. Every instinct I have, in every aspect of life, be it something to wear, something to eat – it’s all been wrong.”
–george costanza

when is it over?

i just thought i would share my face and hair transformations for the past five years with my favorite people by my side. why? call it another vain attempt at figuring myself out and sharing it with the internet. this time, visually.



2005: 19 years old. wedding with dana:

2006: 20 years of age. california with manda:

2007: 21 whole years. cubs game with rosey:

2008: 22 years. sox game with jace and daners:





2009: 23 years old. some drunken birthday party with mary jo:

my natal chart. maybe this is why all i ever do is talk about love:

solar return: cheers to being 24 this year: