Tuesday, April 27, 2010
"Work it, make it, do it, Makes us harder, better, faster, stronger"
Stress. SO.MUCH.WORK. Please save meeeeee.
Friday, April 23, 2010
"Ey yo, I just wanna let you know, the back of yo head is ridickilus"
I gave the pretty lady my number :-)
Thursday, April 22, 2010
"You've got a friend in me, You've got a friend in me"
"You've got troubles, well I've got 'em too
There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you
We stick together and we see it through
Yeah, you've got a friend in me"
--Toy Story
So, I haven't updated in a couple days, and someone commented on that and told me I need to post again! These past few days have actually been REALLY good. I've been feeling pretty happy. The other night/morning when I couldn't sleep (between the hours of 4 and 6:30 am) I decided to clean my room--it was a MESS before, and it is absolute glory now...I even vacuumed and organized all my drawers and whatnot. And I've created a new rule for myself and my friends: anything you move from its original spot, or take out of a drawer MUST be returned back to that place once you are finished with it. And speaking of my friends, I have two of the most amazing best friends in the whole wide world. No joke though, they're really amazing. They have been here for me and supported me through all of my shit and all of my depression, no matter what--and I know how obnoxious it can be to hear someone complaining for such a long period of time. And for all that, I thank them. On top of loving their support, I also have a shit ton of fun with them--whether it's painting our nails, drinking wine, watching American Idol gives back, or exercising (which is something I despise doing), I can enjoy myself if they're around. So I'd like to make this post mostly a tribute to them. Tomorrow, the three of us are going to Brushstrokes because I've decided to confront that girl that works there and give her my number--their support is extremely necessary...OBVIOUSLY. And while we're there, we're gonna paint a "BFF" bowl or plate or something...yeah, we're dorks like that. And then tomorrow night is Fetish Ball, which I know isn't their scene at all, but I'm forcing them to go--just for a little while at least. And then from Saturday morning till mid-Sunday, we're hopefully going to Pacific Grove, which is where Kristofferson lives...and Janis, her boyfriend and my really good friend, will be there so we're gonna crash at his place, I believe. I've caught up on all my work because of them...Kristofferson and I sat at l'Amyx for 5+/- hours the other day just doing homework--and getting distracted with conversation from time to time. And Mermaid has been pushing me really hard to do my work, and she has been keeping me from procrastinating. All in all, if you two are reading this, I love you both more than you know it, thank you for EVERYTHING.
Over and Out,
J-Money
There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you
We stick together and we see it through
Yeah, you've got a friend in me"
--Toy Story
So, I haven't updated in a couple days, and someone commented on that and told me I need to post again! These past few days have actually been REALLY good. I've been feeling pretty happy. The other night/morning when I couldn't sleep (between the hours of 4 and 6:30 am) I decided to clean my room--it was a MESS before, and it is absolute glory now...I even vacuumed and organized all my drawers and whatnot. And I've created a new rule for myself and my friends: anything you move from its original spot, or take out of a drawer MUST be returned back to that place once you are finished with it. And speaking of my friends, I have two of the most amazing best friends in the whole wide world. No joke though, they're really amazing. They have been here for me and supported me through all of my shit and all of my depression, no matter what--and I know how obnoxious it can be to hear someone complaining for such a long period of time. And for all that, I thank them. On top of loving their support, I also have a shit ton of fun with them--whether it's painting our nails, drinking wine, watching American Idol gives back, or exercising (which is something I despise doing), I can enjoy myself if they're around. So I'd like to make this post mostly a tribute to them. Tomorrow, the three of us are going to Brushstrokes because I've decided to confront that girl that works there and give her my number--their support is extremely necessary...OBVIOUSLY. And while we're there, we're gonna paint a "BFF" bowl or plate or something...yeah, we're dorks like that. And then tomorrow night is Fetish Ball, which I know isn't their scene at all, but I'm forcing them to go--just for a little while at least. And then from Saturday morning till mid-Sunday, we're hopefully going to Pacific Grove, which is where Kristofferson lives...and Janis, her boyfriend and my really good friend, will be there so we're gonna crash at his place, I believe. I've caught up on all my work because of them...Kristofferson and I sat at l'Amyx for 5+/- hours the other day just doing homework--and getting distracted with conversation from time to time. And Mermaid has been pushing me really hard to do my work, and she has been keeping me from procrastinating. All in all, if you two are reading this, I love you both more than you know it, thank you for EVERYTHING.
Over and Out,
J-Money
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
"Je ne regrete rien"
Right now I'm laying in the same spot that I was in when I first got the call that she had died. I didn't even think about it maybe being hard for me, but now that I'm here, my heart is hurting again. I need to get over it--I really just need to get over this, and all my other issues and start getting my shit together. I spent the majority of the day with Kristofferson at a tea bar doing homework--I got a good amount of work done, considering the fact that I've barely done any homework this semester. The stress is starting to relieve itself, little by little. Between the hours of 4 and 6:30 yesterday morning, I was wide awake--cleaning my room. It still needs to be vacuumed, but other than that, it looks sooo good. I noticed today that my jaw wasn't tensing as much as it has been lately, but it's still sore from tensing it so often the past week. I've started a new page in the story of my life.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
"Baby how I dream of being free since my birth. Cursed but the demons I confronted would disperse"
"Have you ever heard of some shit so real?
Beyond from the heart, from the soul you can feel..." --Kid Cudi
So I'm gonna talk a little bit about myself, and my life, and one of the reasons that I'm fucked up to the extent that I am right now. I just got home from seeing Kick-Ass with Mermaid and Kristofferson...little did I know, this was a pretttty fuckin violent movie--blood, gore, guts...you name it, it was there. The first violent scene was when the lead character, Dave--better known as Kick-Ass--gets stabbed...in almost the exact same spot that the victim I was with got stabbed last year:
“We need help! Please come quick! We’re at--I don’t know what the address is! The cross streets? I don’t know, Piedmont and something.”
“Piedmont and Channing,” I hear somebody scream.
“We’re at Piedmont and Channing. Please, please hurry. My friend just got stabbed.”
I realize then that I don’t even know “my friend’s” name, someone tells me that his name is Rob. Why am I panicking? Why do I have my hand on his bleeding stomach? I see his blood seeping through our fingers -- a deep, warm red. I have my right hand over his, putting pressure on his gushing wound; my left hand is busy holding a phone up to my ear while I scream for the police to come. Amidst all of the chaos, Rob manages to get his bloody, black shirt off. We begin to wrap it around his stomach. As soon as we lift our hands from his wound, his dark, warm blood begins to pour out. We quickly tighten the shirt and replace our hands against his stomach -- mine, on top of his. Why aren’t the fucking cops here yet? Someone helps me convince Rob to lie down. I’m on top of him now, putting as much pressure as I can with one hand against his stomach. I’m still on the line with the police operator.
“Ma’am, the police will be there very soon. I need you to stay calm for me, ma’am.”
The police pull up then -- about twelve cars, their sirens blaring and their lights shining. I finally look up, away from Rob, away from our hands, away from the red stained sidewalk. I realize that what has seemed like hours, has only been minutes -- two, maybe three minutes. Someone rushes over and takes my place at Rob’s side; I don’t see whether he’s a cop or a paramedic, but he reassures me that he’s got this situation under control.
I’m standing alone now...I mean, there are herds of people standing around us, some may even be talking to me, but I don’t know what they’re saying. All I know is that my favorite, yellow sweater and my hand are stained red. My finger tips have become prunes, wrinkled from the wet blood. The air is making the blood dry on my hand; the blood is cold now -- freezing -- not warm like it had been before. My hand, and me, and nothing else.
My friends are screaming at me, to get my attention, but I don’t hear them; I can see their mouths moving, but no words are coming out...no sounds. I don’t know where I am anymore; everything around me is moving, but I’m stuck -- stuck in the same position, unable to take a step, unable to understand what has happened. Finally, one of my friend’s grabs on to me,
“JULIA. I need you to look at me. You’re okay. We’re okay. He’s gonna be okay; the ambulance just left. They’re taking him to the hospital.”
“I need something to wipe my hand off with,” I don’t realize until this moment that I am crying -- tears flying down my cheeks, “I need to get the off my hand NOW. Please.”
An officer notices my panic and walks over to me with a wet tissue. I try to wipe the blood off, but it’s sticky, the tissue is just tearing and my hand is still bright red. I’m shaking.
“Please, please, I need it off of me. I really need to clean my hands. I really really need them clean,” I beg.
Another officer sees my frantic pleading, and he walks me over to the firetruck. He leaves me with a fireman.
“Okay, hun. Put out your hands. This is hydrogen peroxide. I’m gonna pour it into your hands, and I want you to rub them together.”
He pours the peroxide, and it starts to bubble and turn a bright pink in my cupped hands. I rub as hard and as fast as I can. He gives me a rag to wipe them off. The majority of the blood is gone -- off of my skin, at least. But I can still see it under and around my nails. I wonder if it will ever really be gone.
One Week Later:
I heard from Rob today. He’s out of the hospital, and he’ll be going back to school soon. Thank god. The doctors say he got stabbed in the liver, about 2 inches deep; they say that if it had been anywhere else, he could’ve been dead; they say that if pressure hadn’t been applied to it, he could’ve been dead. Why are people calling me a hero? I am not a hero. In fact, I am far from a hero. I just did what my instinct told me to do. I can’t remember the incident very clearly anymore. I was with the police until 4 am that morning, telling them my story and identifying a couple guys in the lineup they had. They called me again today, asking for another statement, but I couldn’t remember much. I don’t think I can ever go back there again; the fear that has been inflicted on me, the memories that are glued in my brain will never go away.
So, when my classmates wonder why I don't focus in class, or why I may not be there as often as I should, I want them to know this. I want them to see that my world is fucked up. Sometimes, I think it's fucked beyond repair...but I know that's not true. My mind is ALWAYS filled with these thoughts...and this is only one of the many "life experiences" that I have had. So, I'm sorry to my classmates who are disturbed by my lack of attention, or my lack of attendance, or my frequently sorrowful face--I am working as hard as I can to be strong and to use these as "learning experiences," but sometimes, it's just not that simple.
Beyond from the heart, from the soul you can feel..." --Kid Cudi
So I'm gonna talk a little bit about myself, and my life, and one of the reasons that I'm fucked up to the extent that I am right now. I just got home from seeing Kick-Ass with Mermaid and Kristofferson...little did I know, this was a pretttty fuckin violent movie--blood, gore, guts...you name it, it was there. The first violent scene was when the lead character, Dave--better known as Kick-Ass--gets stabbed...in almost the exact same spot that the victim I was with got stabbed last year:
“We need help! Please come quick! We’re at--I don’t know what the address is! The cross streets? I don’t know, Piedmont and something.”
“Piedmont and Channing,” I hear somebody scream.
“We’re at Piedmont and Channing. Please, please hurry. My friend just got stabbed.”
I realize then that I don’t even know “my friend’s” name, someone tells me that his name is Rob. Why am I panicking? Why do I have my hand on his bleeding stomach? I see his blood seeping through our fingers -- a deep, warm red. I have my right hand over his, putting pressure on his gushing wound; my left hand is busy holding a phone up to my ear while I scream for the police to come. Amidst all of the chaos, Rob manages to get his bloody, black shirt off. We begin to wrap it around his stomach. As soon as we lift our hands from his wound, his dark, warm blood begins to pour out. We quickly tighten the shirt and replace our hands against his stomach -- mine, on top of his. Why aren’t the fucking cops here yet? Someone helps me convince Rob to lie down. I’m on top of him now, putting as much pressure as I can with one hand against his stomach. I’m still on the line with the police operator.
“Ma’am, the police will be there very soon. I need you to stay calm for me, ma’am.”
The police pull up then -- about twelve cars, their sirens blaring and their lights shining. I finally look up, away from Rob, away from our hands, away from the red stained sidewalk. I realize that what has seemed like hours, has only been minutes -- two, maybe three minutes. Someone rushes over and takes my place at Rob’s side; I don’t see whether he’s a cop or a paramedic, but he reassures me that he’s got this situation under control.
I’m standing alone now...I mean, there are herds of people standing around us, some may even be talking to me, but I don’t know what they’re saying. All I know is that my favorite, yellow sweater and my hand are stained red. My finger tips have become prunes, wrinkled from the wet blood. The air is making the blood dry on my hand; the blood is cold now -- freezing -- not warm like it had been before. My hand, and me, and nothing else.
My friends are screaming at me, to get my attention, but I don’t hear them; I can see their mouths moving, but no words are coming out...no sounds. I don’t know where I am anymore; everything around me is moving, but I’m stuck -- stuck in the same position, unable to take a step, unable to understand what has happened. Finally, one of my friend’s grabs on to me,
“JULIA. I need you to look at me. You’re okay. We’re okay. He’s gonna be okay; the ambulance just left. They’re taking him to the hospital.”
“I need something to wipe my hand off with,” I don’t realize until this moment that I am crying -- tears flying down my cheeks, “I need to get the off my hand NOW. Please.”
An officer notices my panic and walks over to me with a wet tissue. I try to wipe the blood off, but it’s sticky, the tissue is just tearing and my hand is still bright red. I’m shaking.
“Please, please, I need it off of me. I really need to clean my hands. I really really need them clean,” I beg.
Another officer sees my frantic pleading, and he walks me over to the firetruck. He leaves me with a fireman.
“Okay, hun. Put out your hands. This is hydrogen peroxide. I’m gonna pour it into your hands, and I want you to rub them together.”
He pours the peroxide, and it starts to bubble and turn a bright pink in my cupped hands. I rub as hard and as fast as I can. He gives me a rag to wipe them off. The majority of the blood is gone -- off of my skin, at least. But I can still see it under and around my nails. I wonder if it will ever really be gone.
One Week Later:
I heard from Rob today. He’s out of the hospital, and he’ll be going back to school soon. Thank god. The doctors say he got stabbed in the liver, about 2 inches deep; they say that if it had been anywhere else, he could’ve been dead; they say that if pressure hadn’t been applied to it, he could’ve been dead. Why are people calling me a hero? I am not a hero. In fact, I am far from a hero. I just did what my instinct told me to do. I can’t remember the incident very clearly anymore. I was with the police until 4 am that morning, telling them my story and identifying a couple guys in the lineup they had. They called me again today, asking for another statement, but I couldn’t remember much. I don’t think I can ever go back there again; the fear that has been inflicted on me, the memories that are glued in my brain will never go away.
So, when my classmates wonder why I don't focus in class, or why I may not be there as often as I should, I want them to know this. I want them to see that my world is fucked up. Sometimes, I think it's fucked beyond repair...but I know that's not true. My mind is ALWAYS filled with these thoughts...and this is only one of the many "life experiences" that I have had. So, I'm sorry to my classmates who are disturbed by my lack of attention, or my lack of attendance, or my frequently sorrowful face--I am working as hard as I can to be strong and to use these as "learning experiences," but sometimes, it's just not that simple.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
"Sittin' on the dock of the bay, wasting time"
It's been a longggg day! I went for a hike with Kristofferson and Joni today. It was absolutely beautiful, and really gorgeous. --Oh fuck it, I don't really feel like talking about my day, as relaxing as it was. I had a jacket in Olive's room, and since we're not talking, she decided to throw it on the floor in front of my door...she could've just as easily laid it nicely on the pile of boxes next to my door, or hung it on my door handle--but no. If that's the way she wants it to be then that's fine...I'm not really the best person to make enemies with though.
I talked a lot about my life today on the hike...fuck, my life has been hard. It makes me so angry--I lost my innocence at such a young age...and it wasn't because my mommy sat me down and told me about the real world. I had to learn it all the hard way, and I think that that fucking sucks. Sometimes I just wanna gather a backpack full of things that I need--not in that group of things would be my phone, my computer, and my ipod--and I wanna catch a plane to Costa Rica. I just wanna get away from all the chaos. I want to face my fears...I want to really, honestly think about my life and work through my problems and my stress. It's really getting to be too much for me to handle:
one of my uncles on my dad's side recently finished his 6 month long hepatitis treatment. fast forward 2 months or so, and he gets back some odd test results from a blood test he had taken. 6 weeks later we find out that his hep is back and he has to undergo a year and a half of treatment--his mother just fucking died, and he has no one to take care of him or be with him...I don't get it. It makes me so angry. The treatment is extremely tedious and painful. He's been in enough pain already--when is it going to fucking stop.
my aunt, whom we call Boulette, on my dad's side is also going through an extremely rough time after the loss of my grandmother. She took Grand Mere's death really hard. The doctor put her on some really strong anti-depressants, but he also suggested that she be checked into a psychiatric ward for her severe depression......................WHAT.THE.FUCK. whatthefuck!?!? honestly i'm just angry now. no, i'm a very strong mixture of sad and angry--sangry?
I just feel like disappearing for a little while. Getting my school work done has been nearly impossible. I want to be with my mommy and daddy right now. I want everybody to be together. My dad has started going back to AA meetings--I'm really proud of him for doing it. I love him so so much, and I miss him so so much.
I'm tired, but I can't sleep. Since these new anti-depressants, my sleep pattern has been fucked. I wake up multiple times throughout the night, and no matter how tired I am, I can't sleep. ...or maybe it's from the depression. Either way, I'm getting pretty sick of it.
Over and out!
J-Money
I talked a lot about my life today on the hike...fuck, my life has been hard. It makes me so angry--I lost my innocence at such a young age...and it wasn't because my mommy sat me down and told me about the real world. I had to learn it all the hard way, and I think that that fucking sucks. Sometimes I just wanna gather a backpack full of things that I need--not in that group of things would be my phone, my computer, and my ipod--and I wanna catch a plane to Costa Rica. I just wanna get away from all the chaos. I want to face my fears...I want to really, honestly think about my life and work through my problems and my stress. It's really getting to be too much for me to handle:
one of my uncles on my dad's side recently finished his 6 month long hepatitis treatment. fast forward 2 months or so, and he gets back some odd test results from a blood test he had taken. 6 weeks later we find out that his hep is back and he has to undergo a year and a half of treatment--his mother just fucking died, and he has no one to take care of him or be with him...I don't get it. It makes me so angry. The treatment is extremely tedious and painful. He's been in enough pain already--when is it going to fucking stop.
my aunt, whom we call Boulette, on my dad's side is also going through an extremely rough time after the loss of my grandmother. She took Grand Mere's death really hard. The doctor put her on some really strong anti-depressants, but he also suggested that she be checked into a psychiatric ward for her severe depression......................WHAT.THE.FUCK. whatthefuck!?!? honestly i'm just angry now. no, i'm a very strong mixture of sad and angry--sangry?
I just feel like disappearing for a little while. Getting my school work done has been nearly impossible. I want to be with my mommy and daddy right now. I want everybody to be together. My dad has started going back to AA meetings--I'm really proud of him for doing it. I love him so so much, and I miss him so so much.
I'm tired, but I can't sleep. Since these new anti-depressants, my sleep pattern has been fucked. I wake up multiple times throughout the night, and no matter how tired I am, I can't sleep. ...or maybe it's from the depression. Either way, I'm getting pretty sick of it.
Over and out!
J-Money
Thursday, April 15, 2010
So I went to Brushstrokes last week with one of the girls I babysit and a friend of hers. I couldn't stop looking at one of the women who worked there. She was super cute, looked queer. I was cleaning up my paint palette and whistling, and she was like, "Wow, you're a great whistler...I haven't heard anyone whistle like that before." All I could say was "thanks." I got suuuper shy. So before I left, I smiled at her and that was it. Then I had to go back today to pick up the stuff, and sure enough, she was there!She wrapped up all my stuff and asked me a few questions. It felt like she was flirting, but I really have no idea. I got home, and did some major stalking on the brushstrokes website and figured out her name--it's Alex...yes, that is my sister's name, but I can manage. I also saw some of her artwork, which I really liked...and I figured out that she likes red wine--at least, there was a picture of her drinking it on their website. I wanna talk to her, but I'm too shy...what should I do!?!
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