blonde and lazy-eyed's Blurty Entries [entries|friends|calendar] blonde and lazy-eyed [ website | and I'll chase some culture for you ] [ userinfo | blurty userinfo ] [ calendar | blurty calendar ]

yes, well.. [07 Nov 2005|04:57pm] [ mood | listless ] (9:48:17 PM): when will you get married? (9:48:20 PM): he's terribly good looking and i know you'd both be unstoppably clever together. hills from which we look

[03 Nov 2005|04:56pm] [ mood | sigh ] I've always tried to live and be content in the present, always had to fight spending all my time hoping for better in the future. And now I think, if only this present would not end, or the looming future not look so dismal... hills from which we look

[10 Sep 2005|01:18pm] I suppose I have always been very moody (not that I always would have admitted it). I have also always been adept at hiding it, at least when it matters. I have just been so content in recent months that I forgot about any dark tendencies. But then something goes off the road and I can't combat it so easily, and I have to fight tooth and nail that disposition toward some measure of madness-- like swimming in spite of a deadly current and tired lungs. And it's not beautifully tragic, or some badge I wear with pride, it's just this terrible thing I have to box up and remember to hold the closet door closed on. hills from which we look

[05 Sep 2005|11:58pm] Apparently this is the line, and I don't get to choose. hills from which we look

don't you walk [03 Sep 2005|10:39am] [ mood | empty ] [ music | don't you walk away ] The things I do, the shit I pull in the name of holding on are often backward and senseless. And they're never calculated (hence senseless). So why do I lash out in fear of losing or letting go? Who knows. I can't even rationalize it. I have a hell of a mean streak. And where is that so-called 'point of no return'? How do you know when you're beyond the line where you throw in the towel? (Is it when you feel other things creeping in on the spaces of your heart that used to be reserved?) hills from which we look

[21 Aug 2005|05:10pm] I love to stare at New York's sky on a clear summer day; a most perfect shade of bright blue, constant so your eyes are lost if there's a wide enough space between clouds, cut only by the few visible rays of sunlight. Best observed from a canoe, as long as we're being honest. hills from which we look

[12 Aug 2005|07:06pm] [ mood | what are you, man ] [ music | if you do not learn love? ] Some things are good and some are bad, of course. Good: I will be back in school beginning August 29. I have a bunch of wonderful friends who I adore, who being around feels like glowing. I'm making a lot more money now than I was this time last year. I have the house to myself and rented Beyond the Sea. I have decided I will be reading more again. I have coffee. I love coffee. Bad: My sister is gone. I don't know whether it's missing her or being unable to protect her that chokes me up off and on. I seem to loathe the job I once loved just a little more each day [because it changed and is getting crappier all the time]. Startlingly, it is not my instinct to brush off the blatantly sexual advances of a no-good-- but rather cute and occasionally charming-- coworker. (I mean, the guy will come up behind me and start massaging my shoulders/neck when I'm working at my desk.. pretty sure that's frowned upon in the Guidlines & Values handbook. And I know it's not headed anywhere good, ever, but I still play the game sometimes. Gross ick ew.) My throat still hurts and I think I may be losing my voice. I'm in love with a family. Okay, not really, but two brothers. I am most attracted to whomever is available to me at the time, and cherish equally the time spent with both. Whatever it is about them, they make me feel infinite. Right now I wish I were lost in a great novel, or with the aforementioned friends, where time & space don't seem to matter. caves in which we hide, hills from which we look

in a white sea of eyes i see one pair i recognize [07 Jul 2005|11:48pm] [ mood | sad ] This all feels very grave to me. (It has for some time now.) You were, unequivocally, my best friend. You knew me better than anyone, you heard things I'd never have uttered to another soul. You became, to some degree, my heart and went everywhere it did. I cared more than I could ever properly express, in my mind & heart you were never rivaled. It always puzzled me that two people so ill-suited for one another could make the most compatible of friends. I had never felt so deeply attached to anyone outside my own family, I had never been able to say with conviction that I would sacrifice myself for someone else if it ever came to that. Until we really knew eachother, anyway. There have always been miles and miles between us, but now we're farther from each other than we've been in five years (mercy, nearly six? Where are these lives going?). I never guessed talking to you would hurt. I suppose it is just too hard to be simultaneously so close and so far away. We just get overstretched, I suspect. Exhausted. You have to take what comes, I guess. Life is just like that in a lot of respects. I don't know what is happening, and maybe it's just some strange phase. And I may not think of this constantly, but I think of you every single day. And I just cannot foresee an end to that. hills from which we look

It was then [03 Jun 2005|07:14pm] there in the sun in that ice cream shoppe parking lot, you with traces of mountain dirt on your clothes, standing with a fag between your lips, looking very James Dean with your involuntarily squinting eyes locked on me. I knew then. hills from which we look

[19 May 2005|07:10am] he looked me in the eyes and said -- Nothing can take my love away. Absolutely nothin.' Did they flicker agreement or skepticism? hills from which we look

I never would've guessed... [22 Apr 2005|08:41am] [ music | India.Arie - I Am Ready For Love ] This song makes my heart hurt. hills from which we look

[15 Apr 2005|10:36pm] One day I will just ask you point-blank: do you love me? hills from which we look

[05 Apr 2005|01:57am] Our capacity for outright evil amazes me to such a degree that I want to shut myself up in a room with no windows, huddle in a corner and cry myself to death. But that is not my commission. hills from which we look

[03 Mar 2005|12:54pm] This longing for spring and sandal-weather is getting unbearable. Particularly so when I absently glance out a window and my visions of green and blossoms are shattered by the ice and the grey-white snow. Winter isn't just a season of nature; winter falls on my heart and soul and in the bitter end I always get so anxious to be revived. It's awfully slow coming, this year. hills from which we look

[25 Feb 2005|08:10am] [ mood | aggravated ] Last night was good. A. didn't come, but it was still fun. Then when everyone decided to go in the hot tub I was too tired, so I left. Later online, she actually accused me of "going home to talk to A. online." I hadn't said a word to him up to that point, but I did immediately. me: I was wondering if we can still be friends after I punch C. in the face. him: I don't see why not. Good, so that's settled. hills from which we look

[pretend it's fiction] [18 Jan 2005|02:23pm] [ music | Kyle Fischer - Should Your Way ] Almost everyone else was dancing, or having riveting catch-up conversations with friends or relatives they hadn't seen in forever, the kind of people weddings bring back together. But you and I were mutually repulsed by the cheesy, token wedding reception music and not wanting to condone it by dancing. Bored, I snapped a digital picture of you that didn't click until you were already rolling your eyes, then offered you my last piece of gum. "A true friend," you remarked, nodding at the empty foil. I cringed undetectably. "You remember that," I said. You smiled, and laughed your I know how you are laugh. I am certain that you did not realize the wistful look in your eye (and probably no one else did either, don't worry). "This music should not go on. What is it?" "It should be jazz," I agreed, shaking my head in disapproval. "Coltrane and Billie Holiday and Louis Armstrong..." "--and Sinatra!" Your enthusiasm was probably unintentional, and I was painfully aware of the awkwardness surfacing at our agreement about such things, which had been going on all day. "Nothing is ever that classy." "I am at least that classy," I challenged. "Okay, besides you." After conceding, you saw the need for a subject change. "I liked that CD, you should make me another." "Tell me exactly what you like, and I will." And then our silly little game of close-but-not-too-close will ring in another round, one of hundreds, and I will enjoy every minute of it and then go home feeling tortured. Connected, and completely tortured. hills from which we look

[14 Dec 2004|04:19pm] [ mood | disgusted ] [ music | frosty ] There's nothing there between the two of us. It isn't even hinted at. Everyone figures he will end up with her sooner or later; it's a total nonissue. So why do his eyes always follow me across rooms? Why does he act jealous when my attention is focused on any other male present? Why does he suddenly need to be touching me constantly when he sees I'm having a good time with a guy who isn't him? Why does he linger after everyone else to walk with me to my car?; as if to cement his place-- closer to me than the rest of them. It's all ridiculous, mostly because it's just this heavy undercurrent no one dares speak of, myself included. And why does my chest tighten as soon as he's near me? ugh. hills from which we look

friends, fans [08 Dec 2004|12:52pm] I'm having a stupid day. It started out this morning, when I woke up with cramps. You know, never a good sign. After a quick thankful prayer that it's my day off, I proceeded to plop down with my coffee in front of some melodramatic syndicated television (ER reruns, anyone?) and sink into a sad, weepy, touchy, PMS-y mood. And that's as far as I've come. I'm thinking of going back to the television for some Personal TLC while I indulge my ridiculous hormones. I'm glad I have no plans tonight (I'm going to save people from me today). I do need to go shopping and find myself a cute new sweater for Friday's Christmas soiree. Yippee, shopping on PMS, every girl's (not to mention retail employee's) dream! Later I'll probably finally get to the Christmas tree and perk up a bit while I listen to some Christmas jazz. I just needed to ramble about it all first. hills from which we look

[20 Oct 2004|02:24am] [ music | norel ] Have you ever found yourself thinking of someone constantly in a completely non-swoony fashion? Ever experienced a certain person somehow popping into every commonplace thought you have-- and would have had whether they showed up or not-- and sneaking up on you every time? I'm not sure, maybe it's just me. I can't explain it with all of the clichés I've used for everything before. I can't even make up my own flowery new ones. I don't even really want to. caves in which we hide, hills from which we look

[05 Jul 2004|11:56pm] [ mood | angsty ] I am so fed up right now. With just about everything, with just about everyone. It doesn't help that my head hurts so intensely right now that it's making me nauseous, but nothing is falling into place. Sometimes I really consider that, possibly, alleviating myself and those on whom I am a strain of the burden of life might be my best option. I'm not suicidal, all right, but sometimes I do have that thought and I'm thinking that's probably not great. I don't even like my friends anymore. A couple of them, sure, but they're like a package deal and I'm not very willing anymore to take the crap with the good. Things were looking so good for a while there, like maybe life wasn't this mass of impossibilities and frustrations and I could deal with everything. No go. Maybe I'm just getting restless again. It always seems to happen sooner or later; I get sick of places. I've become so indifferent toward work that I don't care if I get hours anymore at all. I can't afford that apathy at all, but I don't know how to stop it, either. I hardly care about anything. A less severe example, my bedroom. It can't even be classified as a "mess" anymore, that's too tidy a word. Thing is, I'm a very neat person. So what's wrong with me? I wish I knew so I could do something about it. None of the things I want are, apparently, any of the things I need or will get. Hot damn, I am such a whiner. hills from which we look

(for posterity) [11 Jun 2004|02:19pm] I sat down for news coverage of President Ronald Reagan's funeral service, expecting that I had exhausted my supply of tears over my favourite past president during the little memorials and remembrances throughout the week. It was an appropriately solemn day with fittingly dreary weather in Washington, and I was right. I watched with calm fondness and reverance, wavering only when former President G.H.W. Bush cracked near the end of his eulogy. One of my favourite parts was seeing how tightly both Mrs. Bushes clutched the arms of their respective husbands, in a way Nancy Reagan often had. For support, but mostly for strength. I could tell looking at their faces that they needed to grasp those arms in order not to be overwhelmed by the palpable grief and the imminent reality that they might one day be Mrs. Reagan, sharing her very private sadness with an entire nation. We are not Presidents and First Ladies, we are people and husbands and wives and we are sad. The men in uniform, the flag carefully draped over the casket, the renditions of "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" and "Hail to the Chief" gave way to twinges. It struck me how important gratefulness can-- and should-- be, and that I believe is what drove Ronald Reagan. A grave appreciation for all of the freedoms and richness he enjoyed as a citizen of this country so moved him that he devoted a great portion of his life to preserving them. I've turned out to be more of a patriot than I ever foresaw, I guess. But it makes sense; I come from a long line of them. It was more than this that broke my resolve after the eulogies and songs had ended. As the honour guard carried the casket back out of the church, his son Michael stood watching and crying with his right hand firmly on his heart, and that just killed me. I didn't know Ronald Reagan but as a public figure who did great things for this country and the world, but even the idea of a child mourning his father gets me every time. I only wish legacies like this one were more common. hills from which we look

on a cobweb [afternoon] [19 May 2004|09:40am] [ mood | thoughtful ] It's kind of funny, I suppose, that someone whose writing I verily despise would be what gets me writing again. You see, she "assigned" me this topic so close to home that I can't help myself, and it has me thinking. At any given moment there are so many people in possession of my affections. Do you ever think of this? Really it's those of the opposite sex I'm pondering. There is my best friend, the second best man I know, with the most and the most constant of my affections; there are the old inamoratos, for whom I may have a little scorn but still some gentler feeling; there is the one I want, having such consistent and tremendous qualities as to inspire nothing less; the trifler, who makes me laugh and with whom I am trifling; and the one I can't let go. I think this is just life, and it seems I am making of it what I can. caves in which we hide, hills from which we look

fyi [09 May 2004|06:35pm] In case you didn't know, because I'm not around as much anymore to say so, my best friend is totally the absolute best ever. Period. hills from which we look

sometimes under your hedge [07 Apr 2004|10:47pm] Things are disarranged lately, and I can't seem to get everything back into its proper place. I saw all of my grandparents last weekend, and some aunts and uncles too; that was very good. We have always been a close family -- closer than many, I think. So I begin to miss them after a while. On family and missing: I miss my older sister so much these days. We've been very close since I was about 15 (she, 20). We used to live together, we were practically inseperable then. I think about all the fun we had (so much fun so often) and I just start feeling like I'm missing a minor organ, things can't be right. When she called me a few weeks ago she said, "we need to move someplace together, because this sucks" and I concurred. I just can't imagine we can live on opposite sides of the country for too much longer. I look so forward to her visit for our little sister's graduation in June, but still I can't keep myself from remembering she will just leave again. I remember sitting across the table from her just days before her wedding (two years ago, now), marvelling together at the fact that we'd actually grown up. During all of that wishing and planning and hoping, somehow it had happened. It's strange, even after years. I still feel like a child in so many ways, yet older every day. And I have yet to accomplish anything noteworthy. The more time that passes, the more buried I feel. This is probably the underlying explanation to all of my recent disgruntlement. But I will see A. next week. Minus fly-in-the-ointment C. ! That is a very notable thing, indeed. Most likely nothing will transpire, but I'll probably do some babbling about it anyway. My life is ridiculous. caves in which we hide, hills from which we look

yes [06 Mar 2004|10:26pm] It occurs to me that I may not be the only butterfly whose wings flutter in the presence of his stamen. caves in which we hide, hills from which we look

she said that i was the brighest [21 Feb 2004|12:03am] [ mood | little firefly ] [ music | in her jar. ] Fuckin a. Do you remember when we were so in love? Me with you and you with that? Well I wish I didn't. I wish I had no recollection of what it's like to feel appreciated or wanted or any of that emotional crap. What you don't know doesn't hurt, right? I don't miss you, that's not what this is about. Why can't I feel anything else. Why does nothing else matter so much as this? Why is it my driving force and my hidden agenda? Why does it matter at all and why am I so incapable of being happy solitaire? This is a terrible state I'm in, I bet you noticed. I get down like this and will grab almost anything to pull me up. Fuck, it's a good thing I'm in for the night. caves in which we hide, hills from which we look

random memory [19 Feb 2004|02:54am] [ mood | nostalgic ] [ music | Alanis Morissette - Front Row ] This boy I used to know with a photographic memory went to RIT. His dad and mine were good friends once upon a time. He used to walk me home from elementary some days, and tell me over pb&j about how, someday, he'd fly to Jupiter. Maybe he'd take me with him -- if I was lucky. He was a cute kid and he grew up to be even cuter and he always had one of those wink+smiles that could get you into all kinds of trouble. He's probably the smartest person I've ever known. That crazy coupling of book and street smarts all under this charming wavy hair; so rare. He's older than I am, he'd have graduated a year or two ago. I wonder where he is and doing what. I wonder if he knows I'm still counting on Jupiter? caves in which we hide, hills from which we look

ma-ary had a lit-tle lamb [17 Feb 2004|01:27am] [ music | 17 ] I've decided to turn my all-consuming boredom into a big nonsense journal entry. On my mind right this second: it's absolutely freezing and I have given up on trying to feel my fingers. I hate this. Some lady told me a few days ago not to complain about her "beautiful New York" and "this beautiful weather." I just looked at her like she'd sprouted seven extra heads and moved on. I have a crush on this friend SO massive that I've begun to have dreams about it/him - it's totally silly. It's like the ninth grade all over again. It's giddy and childish and fun. There are tons of completely solid, relevant reasons why I like him so much. And he's megamega sexy. Oh, I'll keep you posted. I'm getting old. I maintain that the weirdest thing about this is: everyone else gets older, too. It's startling, really. I have a lot of new friends around here. Not so much new as newly closer, I guess. I like this. It's a very good thing for me. They make me feel so much less displaced. I'm never sure how to conduct myself when things end with a person. I hate the feeling that any intimacy is lost by having crossed an intimacy line before. And what's the point of small talk, but how do you get past it? Most things seem to get messed up, eventually. (I'm not that cynical) hills from which we look

may angels lead you in [01 Feb 2004|01:03am] My aunt died Thursday night. She suffered for two months, since she was diagnosed with uterine cancer. It had spread to her lungs and aortic lymph nodes; there was nothing they could do. She was 61. It has been a very strange week and this is what I wrote about it the other night, before she left, I don't have energy to write any more so that's just getting copy/pasted. There was the background music -- some "praise & worship" compilation, I'm sure --, the periodic beeping indication of new morphine doses, the pitiful, laboured breathing accompanied by the occasional anguished moan; and all of these things melted together in a kind of damp, blanket sadness that fought against anyone's attempts to speak. It was like an auditory battle, and somehow the room was still painfully quiet. With each of the aforementioned anguished moans her daughter quickly said, "I love you, Mommy" in the hope of catching her at a rare coherent moment. I sat in silence, trying not to stare for excessively long intervals at anything but the carpet, increasingly uncomfortable with the growing awareness of my proximity to death. Death, hovering over that mechanical bed. It was actually bearable, really. I'd become an expert non-cryer years before, and it was no different trying to play the stoic opposite the family's despair. It was bearable until she jerked awake again, eyelids shooting open with the pain. Until she wasn't bald, gape-mouthed, dying woman and was suddenly Aunt instead. Was mother, best friend, wife. It was bearable until her also-bedridden husband lifted his head to see her across the apartment, said hello. Until he yelled "I love you, honey," and collapsed into the mattress again wracked with sobs. This is not a moment when stoicism is an option. No, you get up quickly and you hide in the bathroom and you pat your eyes with balled-up toilet paper until you can emerge again with composure and sit once more like a statue listening to the sounds of a family losing their heart. hills from which we look

I'm aware what the rules are [18 Jan 2004|11:46am] [ mood | low ] [ music | Tori Amos - 1000 Oceans ] Look, I was fine. So must you keep forcing your way into perfectly lovely dreams? Really. hills from which we look

I think [16 Jan 2004|01:19am] It's less a thing where my heart's being broken and I'm being wronged than a thing where it breaks my heart but I'm walking away anyway. I don't think the uncertainty of the latter is worse than the despair of the former. I'm not convinced it's better, either. hills from which we look

if I stay lucky [12 Jan 2004|04:22pm] [ mood | my tongue'll stay tied ] [ music | I won't betray the things that I hide. ] Did you ever care about someone so desperately that you wish you'd never met them because you're selfish and everything would be so much easier? hills from which we look

I get a little bit tired of listening to the sound of my tears. [10 Jan 2004|04:00pm] The missing you was so much easier when you were actually gone. caves in which we hide, hills from which we look

[08 Jan 2004|09:34pm] A collection of my writing was once described thus: It's as if someone pressed her heart into a book - like they do with flowers - and you're reading it. I think that's the loveliest description I've ever heard. Right now I feel like I want to take my heart and press it so hard into a journal; but I can't find it. caves in which we hide, hills from which we look

not indicative of my place [08 Jan 2004|01:56pm] [ music | Pearl Jam - Porch ] It's been quite a while since last I felt this way. (Somehow my mind turns that into a bad thing too, because it must mean I've been using something[one?] as a crutch. And maybe I have and maybe I haven't.) I can just hear Parker intoning, "Life is hard. Life is hard. Life is hard." and I just don't want to acknowledge it. How does one do that, anyway? Okay, life is hard. What the hell am I supposed to do about it? (2:16:47 PM): i dunno. i'm just wrecked right now. I need sun and Yellow Ledbetter and summertime. caves in which we hide, hills from which we look

cheers [03 Jan 2004|01:05pm] [ music | Massive Attack ] I hope everyone had a good New Year's celebration, however you chose to ring it in. For me it was just a lot of very drunken stupidity. I had fun, but will decidedly not be getting drunk again for a very, very long time. Drunkenness is a thing I think is sort of okay once or twice a year, but no more often. I'll never be among the wasted-every-weekend crowd. Besides, I feel too old for it. Ah, anyway. I saw and was taken care of by one of my oldest & dearest friends in the world and her boyfriend, which was delightful. (No one but Jon would have had the foresight to cut me off after I dropped an entire drink in the middle of a circle of people.) Unfortunately I've caught some sort of cold/flu-like strain of something that I am trying desperately not to let take over my body. I think I'm winning, though. I've fallen in love with French Vanilla Black tea. It's fantastic. In other news, the boy comes back from the tropics today (we haven't spoken in more than a week!) and so I'm a happy -- if sniffly-- girl. hills from which we look

This year... [27 Dec 2003|06:29pm] [ music | auld lang syne (just kidding) ] This year I cemented my confidence in my intellectual/academic abilities. This year I cut six inches off my hair, but they all grew back & then some. This year I have maintained the same job for the longest period of time in my life. Unfortunately, that job happens to be one I hate. This year I realized I don't belong here long-term; I don't want to stay here. It matters like "they" always say, location, location, location. This year I satisfactorily cultivated relationships I already had and began one or two new ones, all to my delight. Again, for yet another year (the fourth), Christopher was my best friend. Over and over (thank you). This year, I came to understand even more deeply how blessed I am to have such incredible friends. Through a lot of introspection this year I became content to be on my own, then out of the blue, I met someone who made me stop wanting to be. This year I was decidedly closed up to myself, quiet and stoic and never going to be vulnerable again. And this year I was shown that was all unnecessary, that I can trust and I can be myself and there are people who will appreciate that alone. This year I was cared for and taken care of in a way I'd never even understood before. And it's slow coming, but I'm understanding now that it's okay to let myself be cared for and taken care of. This year I finally worked up the resolve to get healthy. This year I lost twenty pounds. At the close of this year, I am more beautiful than I have ever been, and I believe that not only because I'm told. There's always a long way to go, but going into next year I am happier than I have ever been, and things are only looking up. caves in which we hide, hills from which we look

[27 Dec 2003|06:15pm] Coldplay are such masters of the love song, and I think most people don't even realize it. They all make me swoony. I've decided that just about every song in their arsenal could say half the things I feel better than I ever can (which really kind of sucks). In that spirit, here is one of my favourites for you. (Easy to Please) Love; I hope we get old, I hope we can find a way of seeing it all. Love; I hope we can be, I hope I can find a way of letting you see That I’m so easy to please, so easy. Love; I hope we grow old, I hope we can find a way of seeing it all. Love; I hope we can be I hope I can find a way of letting you see That I’m so easy to please, so easy. Now go listen to Coldplay. caves in which we hide, hills from which we look

[haha my douchebag exboyfriend still reads my livejournal] [26 Dec 2003|10:46pm] oh yeah and I discovered the best thing ever yesterday: all my secrets are out and he still wants me. hills from which we look

laugh. [11 Dec 2003|01:53am] friend: this is the worst thing ever, in the entire world themeanreds: look i know it sucks themeanreds: but you are probably being a tad melodramatic, there. friend: no themeanreds: i'm betting the holocaust probably one-ups this as far as worst things ever in the entire world friend: NO themeanreds: most likely the bubonic plague themeanreds: hiroshima & nagasaki themeanreds: 09/11/01 themeanreds: probably life in the soviet gulags themeanreds: incidents with son of sam, jeffrey dahmer, chuck manson themeanreds: definitely the marriage of chris martin to anyone but me. hills from which we look

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