Coffee And Cigarettes

i don’t write for anyone. only myself.
normally my thoughts are never directed at one person or situation. i mix everything up, so that its more abstract then anything.
the love of my life always refers to anyone. not someone in particular.
i dont write because i know a certain someone will read it, and it’s a way of communicating… i write because it’s what i’m feeling.
i don’t try and have communication over blogs.
thousands of people read this, i don’t know if it’s been one person a thousand times over, or if it is a thousand people one time.
if i’m happy, i probably won’t be writing.
i dont comment back to anyone, cuz i often times have nothing to say. i’m bad at that.
i love words. i hate people. and those that love me. you’re sweet.

i wrote this because someone asked me today if i wrote about him in an entry. the truth is, i might have, but he was probably three people in one. thats the beauty of writing. you can say whatever you want. and thats the beauty of people. always thinking this one is about them.

…are nothing i care about.

walking beside me. asking for my opinion. strong face. strong lines. something more than what you see. and you ask for my reason. my reason for breathing. i tell you it’s nothing. i’m just floating. you smile and say you agree. what are you doing with life? you smile, again. maybe it’s luck. everything happens for a reason.

you smile with your eyes.

if the blue eyes compared to the dark soul that is my love, i might be more nervous. if you were taller, i might be weaker. if you were the love of my life, it might make sense to me how wonderful you are.

so you say, “take it.” and i say, “i can’t.” but i take it, because i can’t not. and you smile. so i smile back. boys like my smile. so i know that i got you. i can see it in your eyes. you now want to do whatever you can to see me smile again. you are going to want to rescue me.

and i stop. thats why i loved him. because he didn’t care. he didnt jump in front of cars for me. he didn’t make me care for him back. i just did. and i thought about why i loved this man. this man who couldn’t even save himself, let alone me. i loved him cause he never tried. and he was too dumb to realize that i loved him for nothing he wasn’t. he was a walking disaster and i would have gladly followed him down. and then i would have laughed when he commented on how high he had climbed.

and there you are. i don’t love you in that way, right now. but i could, eventually. it takes years to love. and i’m not ready to settle. i’m still floating. floating on bad luck. bad luck that will take you away from me. then your good luck will keep you there. away from me. but can i try? see it out? maybe you could like me. maybe we can’t tell right now. maybe it doesn’t matter. maybe you could be. for me? i wish the future made sense. maybe there are other things in life. maybe you are the most beautiful man i’ve seen close up. maybe.

and i ask you. who are we making jealous right now? we smile. no one cares. it’s just you and me. and we’re just talking.

so i read in seventeen magazine, back when i was around fifteen, that when you feel depressed due to your life sucking, write out the problems you are having, and then write down reasons why they can also be good. so for everyone, right now, this is me writing myself happy:

i just starting taking these pills that are currently making me loopy, insane, itchy, anxious, and depressed… but they have also greatly increased the size of my boobs!!

okay that really has to stop there, i just start complaining and never stop. i need starbucks. too bad i have no money to get me any. i hate my life. sorry shouldn’t complain, mainly because well there are starving people in africa who never even heard of starbucks… <—that, my friend, is my superego talking, and right now it’s fighting with my id that wants to go steal somebody’s starbucks, to satisfy my need. my ego, the only rational part of my being, is telling both to calm down and stop fighting, and now i am anxiety ridden. thank you freud.

freud honey, sometimes a cigar, is just a cigar.

so my parents told me that smart people with good genes and money need to start creating more kids, so that we don’t end up ruled by retarded people. discuss. use information like black panthers, illegal aliens, trailer trash, mormons, and anyone from alabama or kentucky in your conversation and it will prove some point.

ooooh.

not having money makes you skinny, because you cant buy food. but apparently so does having too much money (the olsen twins, miss lohan, etc). i wish i was getting skinny cause i had too much money. that would be an issue worth having.

i think i want a skunk mink. a live, skunk mink.

i got to hold a lobster yesterday and give it a sharpie to squeeze. that was fun, until i saw it brutally murdered right in front of my eyes- i watched someone kill it, by cutting it lengthwise, right down the middle. good thing i didn’t have sex with the guy. it would have been harder to let go.

whatever it is, i don’t know.

during the day, my dad sits in the next room talking in his blackberry on conference calls. i tell him to get an iphone, so i can play with it. he doesn’t hear me. he is not a multi-tasker. my dad works hard for his money. he describes his job as making money for everyone else. after he interests the companies into buying his product, the salesmen sell it and take the paycheck. and to think if he never knocked up his girlfriend, his fifteen year plan into retirement might have actually happened.

i sometimes i wonder if my dad is happy. he has his days. kind of like these other people i know.

she’s twenty-five or so, she works as a resturant manager in the northwest suburbs of chicago. she will tell you that she thinks she deserves more money than what she is given. she thinks she is a good leader, if only because she knows how to raise her voice. she likes the idea of woman in leadership. she would vote for hillary, but would never check to see if she actually agrees with her as a candidate. she is a feminist, because thats what she thinks will take her mind off how lonely she is. she hates her job. she hates being small. she hates her life. but somehow it is what she wants, and it is what she will get, because she hasn’t tried to leave it. you don’t buy a condo in the suburbs as a single woman, unless you are trying to prove your independence, yet at the same time hoping someone impregnates you.

he drives a small chick car. it’s not a hybrid, but it gets good gas mileage. he is not green, but likes to appear that way. he likes to smoke and drink and have a good time. he likes to be able to walk to work, but will drive there anyway. he likes to feel free, but he knows he’s not. he spent his twenties partying, and now his thirties wishing he took more responsibilty. wishing he didn’t cheat on his girlfriend when he was 20. wishing he treated his body better. he will say he doesn’t regret. but you know he does. he has everything he’s wanted for so long. but he is alone, and his friends are married, and he is getting used to his life. and pretty soon, he won’t be able to change it, and he will be the same. fifty years old at a bar, telling twenty-year olds how beautiful they are.

they graduated college. spent four years, and thousands of their parents dollars. some might have loans they have to pay back, some are a little luckier. no one can move out of their parent’s house. no one has a job that pays them over ten dollars an hour. no one has a job in their field because no one wants a twenty-two year old. they feel like they spent their time wasted. that even trying to get a job for 35,000 a year is still not as good as taking a serving job. they are sad, because they don’t really matter. and the dream of never having to settle, is gone. and they may not be alone, they might have love, but they don’t have pride.

i didn’t go to college for five years. i told everyone that i wanted to know who i was before i tried to guess how i was going to make my money. when i knew myself better, i went back. and it’s strange, because now i am older than i should be. i live with my parents, i rely on them for shelter. i am not in love, but sometimes wonder what it would be like if i could change someone’s mind. i have friends, and they seem much more advanced. and i’m afraid.

i’m afraid of ending up like everyone else. with no purpose. no love. no dream of my own. i’m afraid that i will get to where i think i need to be, and still not be happy.
.

how can a book be a bestseller when it’s obviously the stupidest concept ever conceived?

how to become a bitch. how to change who you are to attract those that wouldn’t love you otherwise. how to be miserable. how to really hate who you are.

i don’t know if the word i’m looking for is ironic. but i think it’s funny that a book that is supposed to explain how to get guys to want you, tells you to act like a complete cunt in order to acheive this. so lie to yourself, and deny who you really are. self help for the 00’s.

i’m sure the tactic is wonderful. and i’m sure that every girl that reads it and applies it will be happy. happy with a man who fell in love with someone they weren’t… have fun living up to a person you will never be. have fun living up to a person you’d never want to be.

if you want to get a man and you can’t, try internet dating, there are some desperate men out there who are ready and waiting to love you. otherwise, don’t waste your money on a book who’s entire premise is to make women feel bad for what they are.

you are good, sincere, honest, vulnerable, and beautiful. the last bitch i met was ugly, fat, and got men. well, she got men to sleep with her, and she really had no one to talk to when she was sad, because in order to get men, she had to pretend that she was never sad. needless to say, she wasn’t my idol. my favorite thing to do is cry, and have someone accidently find me and hug me.

i’m a chick. every chick can be a bitch. it’s in us. but really you are allowed to do whatever you want. if you want to call a guy. call him. he may think your clingy. so just love yourself enough to let him go.

i get the idea. but i wish the book got the idea.

you are wonderful. start acting like you know it, and everyone, not just men, will love you. there’s something so special about a girl that believes in herself. you sad, vulnerable, nagging, sagging, over-bearing, emotionally wrecked, compliment-fishing chick. you just might change the world. but you have to be okay with who you are first.

it shouldn’t be “why men love bitches” it should be “why men love women who respect themselves” but honestly people, where is the book called, “why women love men who make a lot of money, dress well, don’t get angry when drunk, and have power but don’t abuse it”? because honestly, a guy knows he doesn’t need any of those things and he can still get a chick to sleep with him.

so for all those who are already bitches, buy the book. it will make you feel good about yourself, and that’s what we’re all about here. loving ourselves.

i’m out.

i used to pray to god everynight.

“dear god, please help me to have a good night sleep, with no bad dreams, and keep me safe through the night. i pray that no robbers come and my whole family is happy. i love you. amen.”

i remember this like it was yesterday, because frankly it might have been. i got so used to praying this prayer, that when i am in my own bed, i recite it. and if i don’t, i feel like i might not be able to go to sleep. i spent a long time getting that out of my system. i don’t want to recite for god anymore.

i was pretty emotionally tied up in how much life sucked yesterday, so my mom and dad took me out with them. they bought me food, starbucks, and work clothes. they also took me to lowes. while we were in lowes, looking at the sinks and baths, my mom told me that if you trust in god, he won’t let you down.

i said, “so how do you know this?”
“experience.”
so i responded, “i’ve trusted in god, and he never got me anywhere. the only times i’ve ever gotten out of a mess is when i pulled myself out.”
“you think that’s true. but it’s not.”

i looked at my mom. i thought about it. and i remembered when i would rely on a god for everything. i’d ask him for guidance. i’d pray before i made a decision. i’d sing those songs. i’d wait around a lot. and i wouldn’t get much from him. one time this lady prayed for me, she told me that she could see i was afraid to ask for much. that maybe i didn’t think i deserved it, but that god wanted to give me everything, and even more. i just had to ask.

so i asked. i asked. i wanted this boy to like me. i wanted this certain job. i wanted to be skinny. i wanted people to respect me. i want to be heard. i wanted life to be happy. i waited, i went for it, i tried my hardest, and i asked. and god didn’t come through.

this was my life people. i grew up in church. the same way you may have not. it’s what you know. it’s who you are, even when you don’t want it anymore. it’s engrained in your head, your heart and your way. i waited for god to fulfill his promise to me, and this is what i got:

i got the boy to like me. he didn’t want to date me. i got the job, but then my future boss decided against it, a week later. she took it away from me, after i had already turned down another job and had been unemployed for six months. i lost ten pounds, but i haven’t really gotten skinny ever. i wanted people to respect me, when in that same year, i went to a party, got drunk, and lets say that no one respected me anymore, even though i did everything i could to be strong, and trusted god to “use it for good.” i wanted people to listen to me, and hear me out and no one did anymore. i wasn’t allowed to talk. i became nothing.

you could look at this, and see that i did get the job and the guy. that maybe it just wasn’t meant to be and god knew better? maybe i was the one who got drunk. maybe i was the one who ran my mouth too many times and had to pay. maybe. but i asked you see, i asked to be happy. to be good. and i wasn’t, and to think that for a little while i thought god wanted to give me the world.

so i prayed and prayed. “god, make this better.” please. and i was sad. and he didn’t help me out of it. and i wanted to trust him. but i couldn’t anymore. so i let go. and it took me a year, but i made it better myself. i don’t remember god being there. even though i asked. i trusted. he gave up on me. and, you know, you could say that i gave up on god. because maybe i did. but i’ll tell you it wasnt before i tried. for twenty years i tried. thats longer than most people can say.

it’s been three years. since the beginning of this ordeal with god. i’m kind of back in the same place. unemplyed, single, not respected and unhappy. this time i’m here without god. this time, it would make sense to christians. and they would blow off the last time it happened. but really it’s the same place, and this time i can blame myself. and this time i don’t feel stupid for relying on someone that doesn’t care.

and i asked my mom yesterday, “isn’t god a god who can turn water into wine? if he is i’m sure that he can turn my life into good. he already knows i’ve waited. and until he does, i will make my own decisions, because god never told you to wait for something to help you, he wants you to use the brain he gave you.”

my mom looked at me like i was stupid. but if there is god, which just so you know, i believe there is a god. i do. i just don’t know anything about him. i don’t think he’s the god i knew. i think that THAT god was a figment of my imagination.

“dear god, please help me to have a good night sleep, with no bad dreams, and keep me safe through the night.”

“help me god.” i dont think he helps. i think that he looks to see who is willing to help themselves, and then help others.

i think this god made the world. and then i think he watched.

…it only hurts when i breathe.

sometimes i have things to write. things i’m passionate about. things that are on my mind. things that make me angry. things that rhyme… today there is so much on my mind. i’d love to write. i’d love to know what to say. but i’m at a loss. i have no effing clue. i guess we’ll go down the list.

apparently i’m out of work for another week. huge problem that i dont feel like discussing.

i have finals coming up. i was getting A’s in all my classes. now i am getting B’s. not too happy. this means my finals need to be great. like not C’s and D’s, the grades i most recently pulled on every one of my last tests. i even got two B+’s on papers in english. hello? that is not okay for me. i’m kind of being a spoiled kid right now. but i just really wanted to do well. exceptionally well. so well that maybe i could be proud of my mind again. i failed. because i let myself get sad.

i’m depressed. severely, utterly, devastantly depressed. i don’t know if that word was a word. but i like it, so it’s staying. i’m constantly in a state of sadness. my state of mind is more like the state of nevada. it doesn’t know if it wants to be desolate, dry and scorching, or if it wants to be awake, coniving, and resourceful, or if it wants to be trashy, insignificant, and a lesser being then it’s normal, better counterpart. my brain is arguing whether or not prostitution should be legal, since, come on, there are worse things in the world.

my hands are cold. so cold. they need to be held. really badly. held. come on. hold my hand. do it. whatever. it’s too late now. i found a fireplace. serves more purposes then you could ever. you’re like my knight in shining armour that leaves when things get rough. “oh damn, you’re weighing down my white horse, i’m gonna have to let you off- or you could workout.” you’re like never there when i’m sad. and that’s only like so completely annoying. i can’t accept that anymore. but i do. cause the whole problem is in my mind. i am completely psychotic. or that’s what you tell yourself.

if i were a man, my method of communication would be my sex drive. instead of this horrid emotional communication that i use. men think everything can be solved with sex, because frankly, if they were sad, they would love a blow job. if i’m sad i want starbucks. and then i want things bought for me. and then i want you to listen to every stupid and irrelevant thing i have to say. and then i want you to give me hug. and then, and only when i’m ready, you can tell me i’m pretty. i’d like that.

i had grape juice and apparently, my mom just informed me, i spilled it on the counter. i need to move out of this joint. i really really really really really need something to be proud of right now.

anything.

my mom just bought me starbucks and gave me a hug. the worst is over.

you can tell me i’m pretty now.

come on try a little. nothing is forever. there’s got to be something better than in the middle.

and there i go. crying. everytime i see you.
is that me? or is it you. are my tears from you?
or a reaction of everything you are. to me.
i love you like the day i woke up and found four new kittens at my feet.
i love you like the most intoxicated drunk i’ve ever felt without puking or blacking out.
i love you, because i don’t at all.
it doesn’t make sense in a world where everything must make sense.
me and you? no. i understand, you know. i understand why you fight it.
why it seems so wrong.
you’re like a mirror. a mirror of everthing i hate in myself.
i could paint your entire existence on a canvas. and it would be empty.
you think we’re both so empty. afraid.
because everything we have ever wanted has come crashing down around us.
how am i supposed to change the world, if the world runs my life?
i am not big enough. and you are afraid that it will bring you down.
it’s okay. i understand. i get it. but i still cry.
but right now, between love and life, and everything that flies around on little butterflies, that i am not capable of finding.
we are in the middle.
one day we will get out. you might be closer than i.
but you are also more afraid than i am.
but if you go your way.
i’ll go mine.
and if we both find the way out, who’s to say it’s not the same?
i guess we’ll find out.
i guess it doesn’t matter.
i’ve got a few years left to discover.
meet me in five.

one of the best compliments of my life ended with a negative one that sent me straight back to hating myself.

“when you’re 24 or 25, you’re going to be quite the catch.”
“what am i not the catch now?”
“no, absolutely not.”

i’ll probably never be in love.
——————-

i kind of wish i had the benefits of parents who thought more about the future, then the present. who maybe cut off the the baby making so that they could send their children to college. for those of you who don’t have to pay for college, consider yourself, in a word, blessed.

you can study. you can party. you can work, only if you’re bored. but school can be your number one priority. let me tell you that it is really hard to study for a test when you worked six doubles in a row and only made two hundred dollars. you have a phone bill, a car insurance payment, you need an oil change. gas is four dollars a gallon, and you live forty-five minutes away from everything. it’s even harder to study when your temporarily unemployed.

i just lost my job, so i asked my mom if she could loan me three hundred dollars for a summer class at community college. she hesitated, and said, “let me think about that.”

you know, most likely she doesn’t have money to give me. but that just makes me more bitter. why did you need six kids? i remember when i was a senior in high school crying my eyes out. my mom kept yelling at me, saying, “why are you so bi-polar?” “get some medication.” “i’ll check you into a hospital if you want.” i almost took her up on the offer. i knew i’d get to the hospital and they’d realize i was fine, i just wanted to be free of my mother standing over me yelling at me to stop crying.

i was crying because i didn’t want them to adopt another child. i didn’t want to see more reasons why i couldn’t go to a four year college. i guess i was selfish. i guess my parents didn’t need to pay for college. i guess they have every right to not pay for my summer class even if i pay them back. i guess they can have twenty kids, if that really helps.

i never want kids.

why is it that just when something good happens, 5,000 things go wrong? i just got a job, i was only unemployed for five days. yet, i’m not really excited. i’ll have to train and study for tests while i’m also studying for finals. i thought i had a place to live, i was all set, when that fell through. i’m going to look at another place at 6:00, but i don’t even want to. chances are that won’t work out. chances are i can’t afford it anyway. and i guess i could not take a summer class, but by me not taking it, greatly affects my work load in the fall, and how much more money i will be spending on a real school.

you’re right i’m not bi-polar. it’s just easier to say that then, “i hate my life.”  but i do wonder why everything makes me sad.

 maybe we’ll grow up and make a new name for ourselves. maybe we’ll acheive the dreams we longed for when we were younger. maybe life will throw us a bone. maybe we’ll have to work really hard- harder than most because, we were given less. maybe we’ll have to make do with what we have.

maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll make it out okay, because our parents aren’t the final say in what we are to become.

my best friend is going to be engaged soon. i would love for her boyfriend to tell me when it’s going to happen, so i can figure out my living situation. but he’s pretty afraid i’ll tell her.

i will.

i just don’t really keep secrets. i guess it’s a flaw. i mean like a butt chin or being too emotional. but what makes you different makes you beautiful? right.

probably the most intriguing thing about me is that talk about my family, friends, and loves over the internet. i guess i don’t really care about privacy. or about other people knowing everything about me. i guess because it doesn’t matter.

i don’t really care… but i’ll tell you what: i think it’s very sexy if you can keep a secret.

keep up the good work.