"The mark of an immature man is that he would die knobly for a cause. The mark of a mature man is that he would live humbly for one" - Catcher in the Rye -WARNING WRITER SPELLING CHALLENGED! But Sometimes you have to say "what the fuck!"

Friday, August 13, 2004

Confessions of Crazy Ass Teenage Kleptomaniacs

My girl, she's one too.
She'll go and get her a skirt.
Stick it under her shirt.
She grabbed a razor for me.
And she did it just like that.
When she wants something,
She don't want to pay for it.

She walk right through the door.
Walk right through the door.
Hey all right! If I get by, it's mine.
Mine all mine!


Up your Shirt or Down your Pants!
We mainly used to go to Bag and Save and steal cigarette packs up inside our coat sleeves. How else were we going to feed our addiction? I wasn’t the best at stealing, but I enjoyed the rush all the same. You enter the store in two’s, one keeps an eye out and acts as decoy, while the other takes the goods and hides them up their shirt, down their pants, or wherever. Then you buy something cheap and walk out the door. Ah yes….stolen contraband.

A Neurotic Klepto Wannabe
Being raised strict Lutheran, I feared the wrath of Jesus, and was often too paranoid to do real thieving. My mother further traumatized me as a young child. I will never forget stealing a piece of gum from Safeway, when I must have been 3 or 4. My Carol Burnett-ish scene-causing mother decided humiliation was the best cure. She marched me into the store as if she was doing a citizen arrest, and screamed at the top of her lungs “I just caught this little girl stealing”. I don’t really remember the outcome, I just remember feeling ashamed, dirty, and really, really bad. Despite my hang-ups, my girlfriend DeeDee was a shoplifting pro. She would take trips to the local mall armed with empty shopping bags. By the time she returned they would be full of name brand clothes and other scores. I never accompanied them on any of these trips, but sometimes I would get lucky and they would give me some of the “hot” items.

Stealing from High School Lunch Ladies
DeeDee and I had 2nd period lunch together my senior year. I was always broke by lunchtime, due to my cigarette habit or junk food addiction. This caused me to be the ultimate punk rock mooch for a stint. I used to wait out side the lunch food line and grab people’s nickel change off their trays. Good old charming gutter punk tactics. When that got old, DeeDee and I decided to steal school lunches. We worked this down to a real science. We did this two ways. Both of us would go through the lunch line and one person would hold the white styrofoam tray with the lunch, while the other would hover around and appear to be sharing. The person who was not holding the tray would stick a submarine sandwich up her sleeve. We would pay for one lunch, but score two. This is how we mainly operated. However, on the occasion that we were really broke, we had a plan B. Both of us would stand in the lunch line, one person held the tray and the other stole a sandwich. DeeDee would grab the tray and do a fast waltz right past the lunch lady without paying. She was good at going unnoticed, I have never been that lucky. Our little stealing from the school system routine went on every day for a year. Either the lunch ladies were just stupid, or maybe they felt sorry for us and turned a blind eye. In any case, the “rush” was always there.

My Friend the Perverted Santa Clause
I had another friend James, who was an older musician in this local 80’s cheese band I used to groupie. James had no job, no life, nothing going other than being a drummer. His glory days had long passed, and they band was growing apart. He clung for dear life, and continued to live the rock-n-roll lifestyle, which meant drugs, alcohol, and lots of underage girls. I’m happy to say I never slept with him, though he snake did score on most of my friends. Anyway, since he had no job, he was the master of rhyming and stealin. On any trip to the local grocery store, he would wear a long trench coat-mafia style jacket. With the grace of Whodini, he would slip wine bottles, multiple cigarette packs, munchies and other items into his jacket. He would then purchase a pack of gum, or something trivial, and walk right out. SCORE. He then served as a perverted Santa Clause, passing around cigarettes and booze to us minors, and deciding upon which one he would stake a claim. Both James and Deedee served as the ultimate inspiration for us wannabee kleptos.

We sat around the pile.
We sat and laughed.
We sat and laughed and
Waved it into the air!
And we did it just like that.
When we want something,
We don't want to pay for it.

We walk right through the door.
Walk right through the door.
Hey, all right! If I get by, it's mine,
Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine...


Stealin for a Sex Picnic
One day on a trip to Value Giant with my first love CK Boy, I got the itch to be frisky. CK Boy were on a rabid sex kick, being young lovers discovering and doing firsts. We were all over each other, like hungry animals, our teenage minds full of hormones and nasty sex thoughts. How does this relate to shoplifting? I’ll tell ya how. On this day, I was wearing a very skimpy summer dress, and CK Boy and I had blankets in the back of his Nova for a trip to the woods for some “nature fun”. We were picking up snacks for the semi-picnic. Like I said, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. We were horney as hell, and gearing up for play. Glancing around the cosmetics aisle, something caught my eye. Hmmmm…. a box of colored condoms. Now this seems like nothing to an adult, but to a horney teenager, its like some sort of forbidden sex toy. Something new and adventurous. Something really dirty and naughty. Full of lust and rebellion, I opened the box, pulled out the condoms and brought them over to CK Boy. He looked at me with a devilish grin and raised his eyebrow. I took the condoms and slipped half of them seductively under my summer dress and into my black lace panties. I then took the other half, and tucked them down the front of CK Boys pants. Yes, I felt powerful, I felt dirty, I felt sexual….. the rush had kicked itself into full gear. CK Boy and I made our purchase and began walking out of the store, arm in arm, ready for some action.

Busted!
Just when we were leaving, a young fresh faced boy came up to us. He tells us he had been watching us, and he knows we have stolen some “items”. Our faces flush, our hearts race…. We were busted. The security guard escorts us to the back room, and grabs a female employee. He asks us to voluntarily retrieve the stolen items from our bodies. With sheepish looks of shame, we pull out the colored condoms and place them on the desk. The security guards look at each other and chuckle. Busted for stealing colored condoms! This will look great on our records. Though they didn’t press charges, we were find and forever 86’ed from the store. Luckily, we were both 18, so our parents did not have to be contacted. With heads hung low we left. We still went to the park and fucked like rabbits…..what better way to release tension?

After that….I never, ever, shoplifted again.

There I was completely wasting, out of work and down
All inside it’s so frustrating as I drift from town to town
Feel as though nobody cares if I live or die
So I might as well begin to put some action in my life

Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law

So much for the golden future, I can’t even start
I’ve had every promise broken, there’s anger in my heart
You don’t know what it’s like, you don’t have a clue
If you did you’d find yourselves doing the same thing too

Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law

You don’t know what it’s like

Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law

Breaking the law



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Thursday, August 12, 2004

A Sick and Twisted John Hughes Not so Fairy Tale

“Im forever yours….. faithfully”If you an 80’s teen like me, this Journey song brings back sappy memories of slow dancing at some silly high school dance. That was me, all dolled up in a poofy sleeved pink pastel formal, hair teased high with Aqua Net, buzzed off California Coolers bootlegged and drank in the school parking lot, and slow dancing away with my first love. The say young love is always the best love, well it certainly is intense. I will never forget my first love; also my first heartbreak, and the first time I experienced raw and intense infidelity.

CK Boy the Busboy
I will never forget how I met my first love (I will call him CK boy); like something out of a John Huges film gone bad, two wayward teens colliding into each others lives. My girl friends and I used to hang out at the Pizza Hut down the street from my house, were we would order bread sticks, smoke Dunhill cigarettes, and listen to the jukebox for hours. One day we noticed a cute new busboy; tall, baby faced, with piercing eyes and chiseled features. I was smitten. Actually, I had seen him around before; he was notorious in our town for hosting parties up in the hills where he lived. He went to an opposing high school, and reportedly kicked out anyone from our high school who tried to crash one of his hooplas. As he was filling our waters, we exchanged side-ways glances, and later my phone number.

A Magic Voyage the USS 72 Nova
He drove a blue 72 Nova, a car that turns me on to this day. We fast became steadies, spent hours on the phone, and weekends conjoined at the hip. When my parents temporarily kicked me out of the house, his parents were conveniently away on vacation, and for a few weeks we lived together in sin. We shopped for food like a married couple, showered together every day, and slept in each other’s arms. Young, intense and unadulterated love at its finest. CK boy had bought me a promise ring and also took me to the free clinic to start me on birth control. I would not say the sex was amazing, because it was so new to me. Everything was a learning experience, something new and unknown. You could say it was like voyages of the USS Enterprise….

Love and Betrayal
After 6 months of intense bliss, full of first experiences, senior proms, trials and tribulations, things started to cool down. We both graduated from high school and started questioning our futures. I started hanging around new friends, one being my future husband. CK Boy’s friend returned from college for the summer, and they started prowling around the town together full of young testosterone. I remember one summer night CK Boy came to my bedroom window, drunk off cheap beer, with some news to share. Crying and full of emotion he confessed that he had “cheated” on me. Thinking back this is somewhat humorous, because really, who at 18 is going to be completely monogamous? At the time, I was devastated and humiliated, but still so blinded by love that I wanted to work things out. Though we were young and heading in different directions, we wanted to stay together.

The Wrath of Khan
My real name actually means bitter in Hebrew, a reputation I certainly live up to. My favorite line is from Star Trek Wrath of Khan, “revenge is a dish best served cold”. Since hearing that line in the early 80’s, I have used it to further my own agenda. This is especially true in love and war. CK Boy and I stuck together after that, but still partied in our now separate crowds. One night my best friend was having a house party, and our usual crew was in attendance. I spoke to CK Boy on the phone, letting him know I loved him, and that things were going good. With promise ring on my finger, I began flirting and carousing among the crowd. One particular male in attendance was Mike, a tall, extremely good looking bad boy from Bremerton High. (This guy would later join the Marines and become a hardened soldier and Iraq war vet.) Mike was very confident about his looks; he had these amazing puppy dog eyes in which you could stare forever. To me, he looked like my popular culture crush, Matt Dillon. Mike had designs on me this night, and being wounded from CK Boy, I relished in his attention. We played quarters for hours, sitting closer and closer as the night progressed. Somehow, threw shot gunned beer goggles, we moved to a private party in my friend’s parent’s bedroom. It was then that I experienced the wicked pleasure of infidelity, the tingling sensation of illicit skin against skin. We relished in wet sloppy kisses, passionate and forbidden sex, the thrill along with the salty taste of a new lovers skin. (I look back now and hope that we changed and washed the sheets before my friend’s parents returned…. Yikes!)

Human Like Human League
After the initial thrill, guilt set in, and I began to cry and cry about my betrayal. I called CK Boy early the next morning, and he sensed something in my voice. I’ve never been a good liar; hell my problem has always been diarrhea of the mouth. I confessed my sin and CK Boy started to sob. Like any 18-year-old red-blooded male, he demanded to know whom so he could fight. Again, we decided to work things out and stay together, though our mutual betrayal, and separate crowds were the beginning of the end.

Heartbreak
On a fall night in my parent’s driveway, CK Boy, broke my heart. He told me he “loved me but wasn’t in love with me” (classic fucking line eh?) and that he wanted to move on. Tears ran down my face, though I knew this first love relationship had to end. CK Boy wanted to see what else was out there, to see if he could find something “better”. It was that last part that really hurt, I not only felt rejected but I felt substandard. The fucker. I ripped up all our photographs and broke all our love trinkets. I hated him and wished we had never met. I pawned the promise ring for drugs, and acted out in other destructive and heartbroken ways. Soon after, I got together with my son’s father, was pregnant and married, but never to forget my first love and heartbreak.

Reciprocity
Years later, after my divorce and graduation from Berkeley, I returned to my hometown for a stint. Hanging out in the beer garden of a local yokel festival, I ran into CK Boy. He had the same chiseled face, with a now body of an excess 40 pounds. He was in the process of divorcing too, and was so happy to see me again. Like a typical feel good ultra-drama movie, he told me he never forgot me, and that there was no one in his life like me. He said he never stopped loving me and I was the best he ever had. Magic words I so wanted to hear 10 years earlier. Words you always want to hear from someone who broke your heart. We went out a couple times, and I realized what a selfish ass he was. He hadn’t changed since high school, everything was about him, and he was controlling as hell. These things I never noticed when blinded by first love. So, I did what any vindicated ex would do, I took him home, had great and amazing sex with him, and then dumped his ass. Never called him back, didn’t return his calls…. Nothing. Well when I say amazing sex, I mean for him. I had acquired sexual liberation and skills by this point, and was not the innocent teen I used to be. I wouldn’t say he was a lousy lay; he just didn’t rock my socks off so to speak. I guess another reason, I dumped him. Ah revenge…. Pure and simple. Screw me once shame on you, screw me twice…. Shame on me.








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Monday, August 09, 2004

Creepy Tales of a White Trash Housewife

Thanks to Trashman’s “get your ass back in the kitchen” post, the wheels have been turning in my head. Hrmmmmm. Barefoot and pregos, well that was me at 19, and ah yes, this is when the adventure begins…..

Townie Party Crowd
After graduating high school in a small town, most move away. They go to college, join the service, or otherwise get the hell out of here. I stayed behind, my grades in high school sucked, so I had no choice to attend the local JC. We called the JC, a big high school with ashtrays, which was pretty much what it was. The thing about this junior college was I had a reputation before I even started. See, my Dad was a Dean there before he and my mom divorced and he moved away, and my step dad, well he was a Dean there too. I could not go anywhere without some professor or administrator pointing at me and saying “so and so’s daughter”. Talk about pressure. What is any good standing chick supposed to do with this kind of reputation? Rebel like hell. Which is exactly what I did. I started hanging with the party crowd, attending all the JC parties, smoking cigarettes all over campus, and basically slutting around the place. Now, once you graduate high school, your little social circle dissipates. In high school, I hung with the goth/punk/alternative crowd. After graduation people leave, and you pretty much are stuck with who is left. So, at JC I hung with the party crowd, which consisted of a motley crew assortment of characters; from preps, to mods, to jocks. This is how I met my ex husband. He was a total jock from an opposing high school. Someone I never would have hung around in HS, but once you hit the party crowd age, we became fast, and best friends. Another thing about this party crowd; we were an incestuous bunch. Everyone slept together and dated each other. That is how it worked, you would get drunk at a party and just fuck around. Everyone was passed around the crew, no exceptions.

My hubby Easy E
My ex, lets call him Easy E, was a white trash jock who happened to have black skin. We became fast friends, and he and I dated each other’s friends (dated = slept with) for about a year or so. One night we got really, really drunk when we were hanging out together. Next thing ya know, we were having sex. Wham! Don’t ask me why, but after that we kinda became boyfriend/girlfriend. There was no romance, no courting, just a night of cheap sex and then Whamo, we were a couple. Talk about a mismatch! Plus the fact that we had been with each other’s friends a major recipe for disaster. But alas, we were young, so we decided to move in together. We got a house with some other couples and lived the party lifestyle dream. Pool table in the house, 24/7 parties, rock n roll and sex all night. Those were some wild days. Easy E was working a local construction job, and he was also in the navy reserves. Well, the partying got a little out of control, and Easy E was not able to make his monthly reserve duty due to a serious hangover. He was given 2 choices; a dishonorable discharge, or full time naval duty. He picked the latter. Right around that same time, I stopped having my period. This was odd, because I was taking birth control. Easy E leaves for boot camp training, and I go to the hospital for a blood pregnancy test. Well guess what? Positive…. Positive for pregos. I remember calling him at Treasure Island (when it was still a base) and telling him the news. His response “ I guess we should get married”.

Hey Little Sister…. Shot gun!
Easy E had leave for a couple weeks before they were going to send him to Okinawa for a year. We applied for a marriage license and headed to the courthouse. I wore the nicest dress I had, which happened to be red. Didn’t think of the significance at the time, but looking back I figure it happened for a reason. Damn shot gun wedding and all. So we said our “I do’s “ and new hubby headed to Okinawa, on a one year unaccompanied tour. He promised to send for me soon, though the navy was not gonna foot the bill. For a couple months I lived alone, pregnant with two cats. I didn’t work, I think he supported me, but darn it, I really don’t recall. I do remember him getting my ticket for Okinawa in October, when I was three months pregnant. Packed up my two cats and all my 19 year old belongings and headed overseas. For a life of a navy wife.

Okinawa Blues
I arrive in Okinawa ready for my new life, my hubby had a car for us and an apartment off base. You could not get housing on base if you were unaccompanied. No one under chief was allowed accompanied tours in Okinawa. My hubby picks me up in our new car, a Z28, I’m thinking “great… I’m pregnant and I have to get in and out of this hotrod?… real nice”. But what the fuck, we had a car. Our apartment was about 5 minutes away from Futenma marine base where he was stationed. It was a complex with about 10 units, 3 of those were co-workers who also had wives. I remember tripping out because the windows were marbled and there were bars on them. This wasn’t due to crime, there was virtually none in Okinawa. This was due to the Monsoons. I also remember the mat like floors and the teeny, tiny bathtub. At least the toilet was western style, many toilets in Japan are these holes in the ground where you squat, me I wasn’t used to that, so I was thankful our apartment had a “western” one.

Young Navy Wives
I quickly made friends with the other navy wives who lived in our complex. One was a southern belle from Arkansas, the other was a pregnant Puerto Rican from New York. We exchanged recipes, sex stories, complaints, and all the other musings of new and very young housewives. All of us were under 21. I tried real hard to learn how to cook. Every night I would make a new recipe and have it hot and ready for my husband when he walked in the door. Most of the time they turned out to be disasters. Some of them were okay. My favorite recipes came from the Arkansas housewife. She taught me how to cook potato salad, casserole, meat loaf. She was awesome, and also not pregnant.

The Focker!
Another thing, in Okinawa the drinking age is whatever, so this was the first time my husband was able to legally party. Now this is the age of Bobby Brown and NWA, so he was living up the player life. He was also 20 years old, definitely too young to be married. So, I spent many nights home alone, and pregnant, while he ventured out to the local clubs. Being the young, hormone ridden grrrl that I was, this was not okay with me. I remember locking his ass out, and him banging on the door drunk, begging me to let him in. The fighting also started getting worse. My Puerto Rican housewife friend told me that the next time he became abusive, I should scratch his face up and embarrass him at work. Well, heeding the advice of my housewife friend, I did the deed. The next time he tried to get physical with me, I reached up to his face with my claws extended, and clawed the shit out of him. There were many a nights of fighting, this very typical in young navy families. One night really stands out in my mind. I was home alone with my cats and reading Stephan King’s the Stand. This was all I did when I was pregnant, read books. It was that or watch FenTV (military channel) and MASH over, and over. Husband didn’t come home, I had attempted to make meatloaf in the crockpot. Hell, it came out more like stew… lol. After hours of waiting, I realized he wasn’t coming home after work, he was out. So I deadbolted the door and went to bed. After reading Stephan King, I was always scared of ghosts. About 3:00 in the morning I hear this loud pounding and cursing. “Bitch let me in”. Real nice way to come home eh? I do the reasonable thing, and ignore his ass for a while. The pounding gets louder as well as the cursing. When it gets to the point where I cant ignore it any longer I let his drunk ass in. He starts to get belligerent and violent, so I run to the bedroom and lock the door. Drunk ass can’t let well enough alone. He starts pounding on the bedroom door screaming all sorts of drunk names at me. I just ignore him. Then I hear this loud pounding, the idiot starts chopping at the door with something. He is yelling “I’m gonna kill you bitch”. My mind flashes to the Shinning and Jack Nicholson’s “here’s Johnny”. I curl up in the fetal position and start to cry, cry for my mom. This is actually the weirdest part, since my mom was never there for me and kicked me out of the house as a teenager. Idiot husband breaks down the door with a golf club. Total psycho style. Luckily, by the grace of God, he sees me all pregnant and in a ball and decides to leave me alone. That moment never left my heart. I knew then, I needed to get out. But being young and pregnant with no skills, I didn’t have much a choice.

San Diego Navy Housing
After my son was born, we moved to San Diego and eventually got navy housing. Here I made a whole new batch of housewife friends. We spent days together takings our babies to the park, gossiping, talking trash about our men, and doing other young mother things. I was miserable. My husband was a drunk abusive ass. I sucked at being a housewife. My cooking was terrible, and I hated cleaning. Especially I hated cleaning up after a drunk who used to drink malt liquor out of a paper sack. That image is still disgusting to me. There were so many miserable nights in navy housing I could write an entire book. Every night you would hear fighting, screaming, and domestic violence. It was par for the course. Navy Patrol would not even respond half the time.

Fuck This Shit!
After trying to be a good wife, my heart turned to stone. I didn’t want to cook for him anymore and I became a vegetarian. I didn’t want to have sex with him either. The ass was still leaving me at home and chasing women. Stupid fool used our calling card to court chicks, not thinking the numbers would show up on the phone bill. I busted his ass, but I didn’t care much, because I had my heart set on getting out. I didn’t want to be there anymore. That is when I started attending junior college. With the eye of the tiger enthusiasm I enrolled and studied my ass off. I made Deans list year after year. The school counselors started telling me I was smart and UC material. Being a trashy navy wife, I never thought I would amount to anything, now here, I had a chance. I applied for every scholarship I could get my hands on, and I got most of them too. Then when I had enough credits, I applied to UCLA and UC Berkeley. I was accepted at both, and I kissed the ground the day I got my letters. Berkeley was also awarding me a leadership scholarship, and I found out that I could get student family housing there. My prayers had been answered… I was finally free.

Free at Last!
Like the movie, the Color Purple, I packed up my things and my kid in my car, and headed north. I pointed my two finger at my ex (just like Whoopie did to Danny Glover in the Color Purple) and I said “everything you have done to me will come back to you!” and then…. I drove away. I never looked back…. Kept driving til I started my new life as a single mother. It was the end of my attempt to be a housewife.
Ahhhh Liberation!

Even though I left his ass, this was still my theme song. In fact, it still kinda is.

At first I was afraid I was petrified
Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side
But then I spent so many nights thinking how you did me wrong
And I grew strong and I learned how to get along
And now your back, from outta space
I just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face
I should have changed that stupid lock I should have made you leave your key
If I’d have known for just one second you’d be back to bother me
Go on now go walk out the door
Just turn around now cuz your not welcome anymore
Weren’t you the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye
Did ya think I’d crumble
Did ya think I’d crumble did ya think I’d lay down and die
Oh no not i, I will survive
Oh as long as I know how to love I know ill stay alive
Ive got all my life to live I’ve got all my love to give
Ill survive I will survie hey hey
(music)
It took all the strength I had not to fall apart
And tried so hard to mend the pieces of my broken heart
And I spent oh so many nights just feeling sorry for myself
I used to cry, but now I hold my head up high
And you see me..somebody new,
Im not that chained up little person still in love with you
And so you felt like dropping in and just expect me to be free
But now I’m saving all my loving for someone whos loving me
Go on now go walk out the door
Just turn around now cuz your not welcome anymore
Werent you the one who tried to break me with goodbye
Did ya think I’d crumble did ya think I’d lay down and die
Oh no not I i will survive
Oh as long as I know how to love I know ill stay alive
Ive got all my life to live I’ve got all my love to give
Ill survive..i will survive ohh go on now go
Walk out the door just turn around now cuz your not welcome anymore
....continuing chorus......

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Sunday, August 08, 2004

Vadergrrrl Observations

Some strange and bizarre Saturday night questions and life observations.


Love
I still wonder if I believe in love. Is there some light force that draws humans together for life? There is caring and companionship, but is there this undying intense, fated feeling that lasts a lifetime? I want to believe, but I question. Maybe its because my parents divorced, maybe its because I am divorced. Relationships seem to come and go, people walk into our lives one day, and then are gone the next. The memories live forever, but the relationship ends and eventually is replaced. Does destiny and fate play a part in things? I have met people before who I feel like I have known for a lifetime. I have also looked into the eyes of a future boyfriend and had that special spark, that snap, that moment in time where you know. I think we were meant to be together, but it was obviously not meant for life. Love dies..... or does it?

Friendship
Can human nature be trustworthy enough to really care for someone? How do we not get so wrapped up in ourselves to really be there for anyone else? I have a hard time trusting anyone. It seems like when you trust someone they always hurt you. I love people, and care so much I would do the world. This worries me since I question my co-dependency and caring. Moving around a lot, I have made many friends. My memories with them now exist in photographs and scattered stories. Its always been easier for me to move on. I rarely keep in touch, I just move away on good terms. I still care about the people whose lives did a momentary planetary collide with mine. I just don’t keep in touch, and then with guilt and shame, I lock them away in my heart. I do have friends from elementary school and high school. These women serve somewhat as my dysfunctional family since my real family was never there. I’m connected to these souls in a strange and eternal way. But the others I care for and come across, though I feel intensely, I leave them eventually. Maybe I’m just a horrible person, maybe I have a problem with trust.

Sex
Why is it so easy to separate sex and love? Its funny that I feel as if I don’t need love, but then I do need sex. Sex is animal like and primal. It could be an abuse issue, perhaps I’m able to leave my body during sex and detach. This may be what makes me so wild. This also may be a survival mechanism stemming from past abuse.


Dive Bars
Why does Jimmy Buffet, Steve Miller and Blue Oyster Cult serve as staple songs for every jukebox? No matter what dive bar I go to, the same songs always play. This is a constant that defies any geographic. Sometimes you will hear Sublime, Black Sabbath, Bruce, Pat, Charlie Daniels Band or Steppenwolf. But its always the same friggin songs! What is up with that?

ADD
Discovering you have ADD as an adult is difficult. You knew there was something different about you growing up. Disorganized, sloppy handwriting, always in a rush, your mind races so fast. You can never sit still or hold attention for long. You talk really, really fast and say things without thinking. You’re impulsive as hell. A psychologist told me there are drugs to treat this. My mother and sisters say that they would have put me on drugs as a kid, if that was the fashion in the 70s. Thank god it wasn’t. Let me pick the drugs I want to take please, thank you.

Dyslexia
All the geniuses of the world have been dyslexic. From Einstein to Da Vinci. Its embarrassing when you cant spell simple words like shark and you mispronounce things over and over with constant correction. Your mind just does not see things the same way. You mix things up and read things differently. Why I didn’t get diagnosed as a kid defies belief. Why didnt they notice? Having an older sister with a diagnosis in same school system, and all the classic signs. Maybe because my mother protested the school system so severely with my older sister’s diagnosis, they didn’t want to tackle that again. I wish I would have known then, it would have explained a lot of things. The only B I have ever received at Berkeley was due to grammatical errors. The TA told me your content is amazing, but your grammatical errors can not be overlooked. I edited those pieces over and over, till I cried sometimes. I just could not see the errors, my mind does not work that way. I wish I would have been diagnosed then, and had been able to have the protection of the Disabled Students Center. But then, would I have still graduated UC Berkeley class of 1996 with highest distinction if I had such a public excuse?

Depression
Living is darkness has been the way of my life. I have always been depressed, there has never been a year of my life without it. It comes and goes yes, but it is almost as predictable as clockwork. Sometimes I will be feeling great and all of a sudden I have this premonition of an oncoming depression. I don’t want to happen, I just KNOW its coming. It always does. Especially seasonally, holidays and birthdays. I hope to overcome my battle with depression. Then I wonder if it is genetic. This considering the high number of suicides on both sides of my family.

On Being PunkRock/Goth
I always say I will give up being punk rock when I have money. Well I’m still waiting for the money, and now being punk is getting old. I’m getting old, and I don’t want to be a burned out punker when I’m in my 40’s. I don’t like labels, I never have. When I say punk rock its more an attitude then label. Its about being pissed off at the government, at capitalist bullshit, and at the popular culture media. Its about being broke and struggle, its about wanting an alternative world. When people see me, they always call me “Goth”. I guess that is more of the look I have. Even dressed up in a business power suit, or all dolled up for some 80’s style wedding dress, this look does not escape me. No matter how hard I try to look “straight”. I guess that is why I tattooed my hand. I have Darth Vader’s tie fighter on the top of my hand between my thumb and my pointer finger. In the same spot gang members tattoo their gangs signs. Fuck it, let people judge me for my tie fighter, let them question whether I am in some gang, some ex prostitute, or jailbird. Society should not judge for how someone looks. You should always look beneath the onion peel.

just a reflection
just a glimpse
just a little reminder
of all the what abouts
and all the might have
could have beens
another day
some other way
but not another reason to continue
and now you're one of us
the wretched

the hopes and prays
the better days
the far aways
forget it

it didn't turn out the way you wanted it to
it didn't turn out the way you wanted it to, did it
it didn't turn out the way you wanted it to
it didn't turn out the way you wanted it to, did it

now you know
this is what it feels like
now you know
this is what it feels like

the clouds will part and the sky cracks open
and god himself will reach his fucking arm through
just to push you down
just to hold you down
stuck in this hole with the shit and the piss
and it's hard to believe it could come down to thisback at the beginning
sinking
spinning

and in the end
we still pretend
the time we spend
not knowing when
you're finally free
and you could be

but it didn't turn out the way you wanted it to
it didn't turn out quite the way that you wanted it

now you know
this is what it feels like
now you know
this is what it feels like

you can try to stop it but it keeps on coming
you can try to stop it but

I don't want you and I don't need you
don't bother to resist I'll beat you
It's not your fault that you're always wrong
the weak ones are there to justify the strong
the beautiful people the beautiful people
it's all relative to the size of your steeple
you can't see the forest for the trees
you can't smell
your own shit on your knees
Hey you what do you see?
something beautiful something free?
hey you, are you trying to be mean?
if you live with apes man, it's hard to be clean
there's no time to discriminate,
hate every motherfucker
that's in your way
the worms will live in every host
it's hard to pick which one they eat most
the horrible people, the horrible people
it's as anatomic as the size of your steeple
capitalism has made it this way,
old-fashioned fascism
will take it away


And that’s all she wrote.
-well that last part wasnt me, that was lyrics from NIN and MM.


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