August 30th, 2008
I actually did something for the past 30 days consecutively that I haven’t managed to do for more than say 3 days straight since 1997, I have felt things, experienced things, and have opened myself up to change and to acceptance. I feel exposed, and filled up with uncertainty, no life line, no escape plan… but I’m okay with that. I have put myself out there, for anyone to see my flaws, my pain, my fears and I have not recoiled or hid back inside. I’m here to stay and this is me living on the edge of forever.
I have never shared any of my writing outside of school for anyone to just read casually. I suppose this was the best venue for me, almost anonymous, but nonetheless personal. It’s funny, I no longer concerned myself with how people would see me, instead took comfort in the fact that people have been reading my thoughts all along and maybe someone somewhere has been touched by them, or even moved by them.
Thank you for the support, and the words of encouragement. It is amazing the way that you have expressed how just letting a little bit of myself out into the world has been appreciated. I don’t plan on stopping, but I feel now that this month is up, I can work this part of me into what I want to write about every day. I kind of needed this, like a wake up call in so many ways.
There will never be another August like this, and for that I will forever be reminiscent, but that is okay. Tomorrow is another day, and September is another beginning.
August 12th, 2008
I can’t post my poetry here anymore, as awful as it is, I mean the poetry not that I won’t be posting it… anyway. I didn’t know that my words were creating a rift between what I’ve come to know and what I need to be. It was so easy to keep all of that creativity pushed down, away from who I was trying to be day to day. You can’t be both people, you can’t have it all even if you try. And I have tried, and maybe it’s easier for other people. Maybe it’s all about compromising and literally having to be someone else for the rest of your life.
What comes from not knowing how you will feel after the mask is removed? When the curtain falls, when the dust settles…
Maybe that is why I stopped doing my art 11 years ago… it was who I was and I thought I wanted to be someone else. I think I associated everything bad in my life with that person, when really I wasn’t that bad person, it was just the shit storm I grew up in, or the bad that I was surrounding myself with, all of my addictions, living on the edge of something unknown. I think I ran away from the right thing into the wrong thing. I’ve always been bad with directions.
Filed under: Etsy, Music, TV, poetry | Tags: bad poetry, crappy poetry, gabe garcia, Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me, march 3rd 2007, nashville star, poetry, stilettoheights.etsy.com, The Cure
August 5th, 2008
First off, yuck: 
Should have won: 
I mean I’m no expert or anything, but c’mon, I know what music I won’t be downloading from iTunes anytime soon. See, I got Idol this year so it’s whatever. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, it’s alright.
Seriously though, he’s so country and adorable, how can you resist? Moving on.
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Since it’s poetry month, and I’ve got 26 more days of this to go, I am going to have to get even more creative about this venture. I may even be digging up some old crap that I have written. Please don’t be offended that I call poetry crap, I’m really only referring to my crap as crap because that is what it is. Want some poetry that is everything but crap?
This collection of art and poetry is BEAUTIFUL and is a must have. So go get it and thank me later.
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Ugh, I wrote this crap last year when I was sick, very sick, at my worst: disclaimer- it’s very Cure, Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me-
from March 3rd, 2007
The sickness continues and I am losing ground, over and over again. I climb up to see the lights, grasping the earth around me, I fall only with the dirt between my fingers. Shake it off, I can’t. I am entombed in the folds of these depths and only the thought of touching the outside world can creep beneath them. I expel the illness that shackles me, no movement, only trembling from what I threw up on the bathroom floor. The medication turns me into a monster, not really feeling, only knowing the dullness of pain. There is no where else I want to be because the hope has faded and I invite the darkness in and let it take me. How can this erase the days of the week? Time is gone and I don’t want it back. Let it take me in its reaching hands, bruise my body and leave it for waste.
