When they speak of me…

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I’ve recently fallen in love with the artwork of a particular artist, Loui Jover, whose work is pictured here.

His pieces are generally melancholy but always so beautiful, sometimes heartbreakingly so.
The thought occurred to me that maybe that’s why I have the impact I do, on certain people. Particularly those I date.
I’m not a supermodel. I think I just am so heartbreakingly beautiful to some people that they lose themselves to me. And when they speak of me…if they do speak of me… It is of my brown eyes. My tattoo. The way I giggle like a child and sometimes even cry like one. The way my mouth can stop time; the way my voice will lull you to sleep. They speak of my kindness and wonder with the world, and my amazement with simple and shiny things. Maybe, most possibly, they speak of my pain.
It is that pain that makes me heartbreakingly beautiful. I am human. I break, I rip, I tear and I lose it sometimes. It becomes a temperamental necessity, creating a fragile state of life that let’s me love the world anew each morning.

Lol… I forgot to mention, when I get sleepy, I get poetic. But I do love Jover’s artwork. It is sometimes so sadly beautiful, it reminds me of myself.


Where do you find help?

Where do you find help for a woman who is 57 and barely makes $600/month but now has high blood sugar or diabetes plus asthma? She can’t afford obamacare. Her job refuses to give her a raise. Her apartment is no longer fit for living and she needs to move. Catholic charities probably won’t help. She’s already on food stamps.
…section 8 probably has a waiting list as long as my arm.

… How do I help my mother when I’m barely surviving, myself?
Serious question.


I don’t remember nights like this.

Spring nights where the warmth has less humidity than it does in Florida, this time of year.
I don’t remember quiet or peaceful spring nights from my childhood in Maryland or my puberty in Florida. Nothing has ever been quiet. Instead, the warm nights have always led to mischief and transformation.
Late nights out with boys or on the phone and watching tv. New relationships, break ups, the push into a new school year as one comes to a close. No, nothing has ever been peaceful.
And now, out of habit, I can feel myself waiting. Only this time, I know what I’m waiting for: finals to be over. An internship to start. A little more time to pass so I can find a good deal on an apartment and have a little more clarity of what I want in my future.
The hotter nights lead to heavier waiting.


It’s that time of the semester!!

It's that time of the semester!!

Where our souls are sucked into our computers as we compile an entire semester’s worth of notes into basically one giant cheat sheet for a 4 hour final exam that totals our entire grade. Lol I’m laughing because last semester I told myself I would start during spring break, and then write-on happened during spring break and that didn’t happen. Plus I didn’t even get on to a journal so now I’m like, “Welp, that’s ironic.”
I started outlining this weekend, and we only have 1 week of class to go before we have a week of reading period and then finals start. It didn’t hit me that this is the last minute again, until I looked at a calendar Friday morning and went, “Damn. I better get started.” So that’s what I did. I got started. And my notes are a lot better this semester, except in con law – where I didn’t read at all. So yeah… About that Barbri?
Either way, if you guys haven’t started by now (I’m sure you have… right?), do it. do it now.
Keep Calm and Outline On!!


Nightmares that continue when you sleep.

What do those things mean? Like your dream is demanding to be played out, like your brain is trying to play something out but none of it makes sense because the elements of the dream are nowhere close to real life.

Being trapped in a building and having to kill people and assume their identities and jump out windows to escape because someone hunting me could tell I had taken over the persons identity. And when I finally escaped and jumped out the window, I landed on the ground and woke up. Then I went back to sleep and I was myself, walking back into the building and someone nearly attacked me and I screamed out “I just need to use the bathroom!” So they let me in safely and let me leave but then I ran to a nearby weird hut-like neighborhood and all of a sudden I changed into a grown woman and someone came hunting me and told me I couldn’t see my daughter anymore because she was being used for an experiment and so was I.

Seriously? I don’t even have a daughter. I don’t have a child of any kind. Who is hunting me? Whose identity am I assuming, that I’m being hunted and have to hide? Why?
The building might be law school.. Am I pretending to be someone I’m not, to get through law school and “escape” per se? Are the people offering me opportunities “hunting” me and considering me fake?
And when I was myself, despite lying because I was scared “I just need the bathroom!” – I was ok?
But where does the kid come in??

I didn’t drink last night. I went to bed at a normal time. I worked out before bed, that’s the only difference.
I guess the bottom line question is… What the hell is going on in my head that endorphins brought that shit out?…


While everyone is at the Barrister’s Ball…

I’m doing an at-home workout DVD. I was already sleepy. Now I’m exhausted.
But I needed to start putting an effort into my activity points this week. 1 workout/day down, 4 more to go.


Loneliness is a bitch.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not writing this to vent or whine. On the contrary, it’s a thought that hit me while watching Scandal.

Loneliness is a bitch. It’s the thing that everyone needs a little more of, to confront their innermost feelings and flaws and goals. Nobody reevaluates themselves when things are going perfect. Nobody stays on track with all their enthusiastic projects when life is bliss. I think everyone needs alone time and a little loneliness.

That being said, I’m sitting here, feet up in little booties with Pom poms on the side, still in the dress I wore to school and hair clipped back. Glasses on.
I think if the boyfriend were here, I would be his adorable nerd dream girl. Or maybe anyone’s adorable nerd dream girl.
But here I am.. 24, alone in my own apartment, with my books and my dreams and my tv that I’ve had since I was 8 years old.
My boyfriend is out of the country. My friends are in another state. And as I examine my goals and my life, I occasionally question if – at the age of 24 – I am doing or have done everything I’m supposed to do. Marriage and babies have been put on the perpetual back burner. Consequently so have sleep and sex lol
I’ll share something with you guys. I’ve burned out two vibrators in the past 9 months. 😂 two!!
Where has the sex in my life gone? The sleep? The motivation to do something other than read? I have no idea. Lol

Loneliness is a bitch, y’all. And it’s time I put her back in her place.

Xoxo


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