convenient inconvenience?

or inconvenient convenience.
i'm not quite sure which anymore
it was great while it lasted. it just feels like we're on different wavelengths. some days they sync up; almost perfectly. yet sometimes, its so out of time...

i can barely hear you through all this static.

i completely resent convertor-box t.v.
as if i can flip the switch on & find comfort in the noise projected back at me..

fox 17 is so entertaining. not because the news is insightful. in truth- they loop the same half-ass reported stories about 5 times per news cast. i think they try to call this incessant cycle, a recap.   entertaining in the same way that i find awkward tension amusing. or how i can't help but break long silences; that maybe should be left quiet.

sort of how when you injury yourself badly, and you don't know whether to cry or laugh. so you end up doing both.

funny in a car crash sort of way; where you can't look away. -just not as tragic.

..we were always funny that way.

i can't help it- there's something to be said about trying to find the silver-lining in an atomic cloud.

{i guess it just depends.}

i don't know if it's the weather or
just because i was wearing your sweater
but i felt completely punk rock-
while waiting for the bus.

reminesent of how life used to be-
at least a glimence of it.

standing there
inhaling nicotine; exhaling. watching the smoke linger just a second longer then usual. suspended in the mist,
before dissipating into the air surrounding me.

..the weathers not yet warm, but the airs tainted with the scent of the earth defrosting.
this is my favorite. sweatshirt and jeans weather.


im not sure how i feel about this whole starting new thing. I hate straying from the norm. why travel the darkness? I'm already content with the light.
but maybe this just might be what i need.

positive thoughts. positive energy. positive outcome.
      ..this will be ok.



i hate how this auto corrects all my "i"s into "I"s. i never capitilize i when talking about myself when i write. ive never thought of myself to be important enough to be a proper noun. that's left for bigger people. like God. or maybe Britney Spears.
-so obviously this will have to be edited.. and probably lengthen to some degree.

i've been mentally putting together a mix cd for you. problem is, I've been in such a awkward mood lately, that undoubtedly it will contain too much ke$ha..

&how am I to explain myself, when the first track on the cd is entitled "booty call"?

i shouldn't have to explain myself.

it comes & goes in stages,
like nausea.
cant stand, with this dizzy feeling that occurs when im around you.

yeah, its cliche.
you got me feelin, night
is day.
like when you mix black, with white.
grey.
but if you're an optimist, you'd say silver.
and then go for the gold.

the sign outside of morningstar  states: "its time 4 road trips "&& i couldn't agree more. get me out of this god damn town for a little bit.

cant i go somewhere, where no one thinks they recognize my face.

so lately i've been getting more compliments on my lighting bolt necklace, then any other piece of jewelry i've worn. i don't know what it is. people want to wear it, or they try to trade me for it. i got it out of a 50 cent machine; anna gave me the quarters. you know, the kind where its a total crap shoot in what sort of prize you get. this machine was labeled "bling bling extreme" and i put my two quarters in & spun the knob in hopes of being on the receiving end of some fabulous ghetto chain. perhaps with a huge gold dollar sign. or something else completely gaudy and cliche that i'd love..

but i digress. my necklace. in went the quarters and out popped the most perfect piece of jewelry i could own..

 plastic. coated in a metallic silver paint (which in the month or two passed since ive put it on, has now faded into a patchy grey with hints of the metallic that used to be). simple black cord (of course, already cut to the perfect length). 

i'm a sucker for those quarter machines. they come in such a variety. and each and every one tantalizes me. gum balls that are every color of the rainbow. bouncy balls with such potential to bounce sky high; if given the opportunity. assortments of copper rings that will undoubtedly leave my fingers green. faux tattoos that last for about a week but only look good for about 3 hours. 

 one day someone will realize, i just want to be gifted with a 25 cent ring.

not platinum or gold.

vending machine love.

...

weather ball blue

colder weather in view.

weather ball black? nuclear attack.

i cant remember yesterday,

or the story of how we got this way.

did i take,

     a left or right?

if only id learn to stop traveling at night.

everything looks so different in the day light.

but i cant help it.

this weather makes me seriously nostalgic..

i dont know what to say.

i could waste hours, of my day

away.

but i know thats unhealthy.

it'll just led to my early death.

why cant i find a way to remember the cons on the list?

i needed such help trying to find them to begin with.

the most obvious, theres no need to point out.

"is there a reason i've never met you before?"

...probably because  i don't go to bars.

i hang out in cars.

driving places, getting lost in spaces,

then leaving too soon.

or maybe it's because 

i'm new to this game,

&i  cant pronounce your name 

-without secretly feeling embarrassed

because the first time, i said it wrong.

maybe it was all too much "opposites-attract"?

even through there were similarities to match.

but you're stuck in winter while i'm so obviously destined to fall.

spring couldn't come more quickly,

i cant take these reminders of snow.

its such a deceiving thing.

at first- fresh. white.

purest, cleanest snow.

but what happens, when it feels like negative four

and everything around you looks the same. you're stuck in a blizzard; blank white slate.

you get lost in a moment, but you're already aware you cant let it carry you away. 

&&snow is only clean for so long.

after awhile, even it gets tainted.

with all the dirt and salt,

litter gets hidden in it..

 once spring hits, 

all the secrets once hidden in the snow, are revealed. 

sorry. i've sorta strayed from the point of all this.

i just cant help but be reminded of what i lack.

education. transportation.

any extra money at that...

so thanks for inviting me to that party.

didn't know you'd ditch me for the V.I.P. room.

of course my names not on the list.

i failed to mention that you're a hypocrite.

 the similarities, in all of these

is that i should just stop trying. obviously.

plastic bag floating in the wind?

more like a deflated balloon; once sky bound yet destined to come crashing down
                         &left discarded, on the side of the road.

looking up- at, what once was, home..

waiting for the bus, is prime people watching time. ...especially all the people driving by in their cars. at 8 in the morning..

i cant help but feel like, at the moment where they all hit the red light; we're left trapped in a moment where they're all looking at me &&thinking the same thought.

...its amazing how many people text and drive. and not just young people, which is usually the common stereotype guilty of this. no. while standing, observing traffic and waiting for the bus, i watch dumbfounded at a mid 40s man nearly swerve into oncoming traffic while trying to respond to a text. wheres the justice? at least teens can do it discreetly. sometimes.

but yes. i see you doing your makeup. or eating your breakfast. all while commuting to work. i'm not saying i'm not guilty of some of these offenses; its just funny how some people chose to spend their time behind the wheel...

[where is the bus?]

at least the sun feels delightful on my face as i wait here.

it warms me to the core; i drink in the vitamin d.

you'll always find me with my face towards the sun;

i'm like a sunflower, in a way. i'm drawn to the rays.

or is it- maybe- that i run on solar power 

&whenever i'm in the sun, i charge up?

--try to conserve it; for grey days

when i cant remember how it feels.

...there are five other people on the bus with me, as i get on. 

this i can handle.

the night previous, 

the bus i needed to get home, was packed.

  

sardines in a tin can- traveling 55 mph.

you never hear of tragic bus accidents, with less then a two digit body count. 

five feels safe.

but of course as soon as i get on and take a seat, one gets up to leave.

five becomes 4.

that numbers been taunting me lately.                            4.

my apartment number.

bus route i've been doomed to wait upon, for the time being.

weeks til a visit.

weeks since a visit.

amount- in hundreds- i probably owe in bills.

please let this second job pay off.

i need this so bad.

&of course, nothing seems to go as planned.

i'm not very good at this.

i took the wrong bus. even though i spent hours the night before going over my plan.

its like a treasure map. and as much as i'd hate to admit it...

i dont think id make a good pirate.

dear cascade,

eff you for not having ANY bus routes within a two mile radius of my work. 

i wish i could fly. birds are so graceful in that way.

so starts my trek. [i should have taken the no.5] damnit. 2 minutes in, and i realize i never fixed the discomfort i found, in my left shoe, while traveling. i take a moment to fix it, and start on again. but of course- two steps in &now i find a rock in my boot. you cant make this up. 

       is this really how my days going to be?

as i hike past woodland mall, i cant help but notice all the olgas kitchen litter...

&&i told her- i was feeling inspired by mid 80s punk rock-

so i wore my pink chetah-print bandana in my hair...

the bus was completely empty when i first got on. now, once again, i find in filled to max capacity. uncomfortably close. why is it that i have the only available seat and it remains unoccupied? people would rather stand in the aisle way then sit next to me? what. an. ego. booster.  the kid that chose to sit in the empty seat in front of me immediately gets on his phone and tweets (thats the verbal version of tweeter... right?): "it would happen that the only available seat on the bus is next to my ex. i'll stand." besides myself, there were two other seats. this- including the one he chose to sit in. 

i wonder who was his ex?

this really is word vomit of the mind.

too bad i've turned my mind

...into mush.

still waters.

run deep.  isnt that the saying? cause im not quite sure if i agree. lets jump head first & figure out- just how deep it is, firsthand.

you have this way about you,
of making me want to be
someone i'm really not.

or is it that you bring out,
the side of me that i
desperatly wish i was?



i hate all my regrets;
i wish i had remorse instead.

how is it that my purse contains 4 different black eyeliners and yet not a thing to help me light my cigarette on my smoke break? maybe simplicity is the key.

but who would i be... if i didnt have my life in my backpack? 

snails are smart,
their whole life & homes are on their backs.

...too bad i like salt too much, to be a snail.

ive been so sick of the life i'm living
that i've been terribly nostolgic for a life i've already lead.

oh bother.
whats the use of complaining.

"we've already heard this song"

i know you're no longer the person i remember.
and there is no way, that in a room full of strangers
 you'd reconize me.

too much time has passed.
i dont even know you anymore.

guess we really are, just two strangers with familiar looking faces.

if i passed by you, would you give me a second glance?

i'm slowly remembering why i dont even bother doing this anymore.
one of two things.
over analyze to the point where nothing makes any sense
or completely spill my guts and later end up editing the fuck out of everything i wrote.

neither of those two are even good
so really the whole problem is that this is pointless.

better to keep it in my head;; no judgements there.

just old arthmatic formulas that were important to know at one point of my life & cobwebs.

i think im still greiving the fact that my parents desktop died.

all the old pictures. your EPs. my old posts.

all tucked away in secret files that i thought were so safe.

now they're memories i feel ill never get back.

gone. & i never got to say goodbye.

"i took the polaroid down in my room,
i'm pretty sure you have a new girlfriend.
it's not as if i dont like you,
it just makes me sad whenever i see it."



...you just don't exist like I thought you would.