You Get So Alone Sometimes That it Just Makes Sense

Thank you, Charles Bukowski, for making me feel like being weird was okay.

I'll never forget my first experience reading him. Back in 11th grade, there used to be a bookstore near the Walmart. This was back when mom and pop shops still pretty much existed everywhere, before corporations ate them out. Anyway, my cousin Anthony had been spending the weekend. This was actually the weekend that I last really remember him as a little boy, before he somehow got older so fast. I cherished him.

My mom had taken us shopping, and one of the stops was the bookstore. I found the Bukowski book. The main reason that I purchased it was because of the title, something about playing the piano until your fingers start to bleed. I unfortunately don't have the book anymore. Sadly, I lent it to an ex of mine that I really trusted, someone I thought I'd know long enough where he would actually realize what books meant to me. There were certain books I'd never lend out on principle. One was that Bukowski book. The other was Kafka was the Rage, which I recently re-read and found much of the magic lost, but aye, that is another posting entirely. (It is worth mentioning that this particular ex not only kept my book, but also a favorite pair of butterly printed intimates.) Bah.

Anyway, I found the book, bought out of dramatic's sake, and then proceeded to read each and every poem, with juicy hunger. When I came across "The Night I was Going to Die", I read it out loud in a very dramatic voice, making Anthony laugh and giggle.

Anyway, fast forward years later and his words still make sense to me. Maybe that's the point of writers. They give us something to identify with when we are going through the emotions. They give us examples of "Hey, I've been there. I felt that". They've done it for me enough times. Any crisis I go there, a book has been my best friend. Books help me.

I've been writing alot lately because a friend of mine suggested that I put my sadness into writing. I can produce something really powerful this way. This echoes the words that a former aquaitence had said to me many moons ago as well, and it always stuck with me. Sometimes we get our greatest inspirations through our pains. I haven't been in pain in a while where its moved me, but the way I feel right now, over this loss of a friendship, I just feel more moved than ever to put it all into words.

So, I actually finished the 2nd draft of a short story that I've been working on, and started the first draft of another. Instead of sitting here, feeling emo and sorry for myself, wondering when will I be loved, I'm going to try and make something of this.

But don't let my ex-friend take all the credit, unless you know, it ends up being bad.

Ugh

"This is what I wanted to say to you, if I had one chance to tell you something- you are loved, more than you can ever know."- Rebecca St. James

I don't want to be a hipster anymore, because I was a college hipster and so were you, and you know, doing things like shopping at Urban Outfitters or listening to Leonard Cohen just reminds me of you in a way that makes me want to go corporate and only read trashy chick lit.

Nostalgia is a Disease

You know, today, I gave away some things that were once dear to me, but I gave them to my good friend, Gina, as I know that she would preserve them well.

I've always had a hard time giving up things. It was hard for me at Cowtown over the summer to part with my rainbow pillow. It's been hard for me to clean out my room and take things to my new house that are only of extreme importance or use to me. I can't be a pack rat anymore.

I get nostalgic for all old times. I can guaruntee that next year, I'll be pining for this year, and so on and so forth. That's how I am. Sometimes the past always looks better to me. I'm rarely a future person- thinking about a great future; I'm much more into the past. It's why I have this blog. I get sad when things go away that remind me of my childhood. Like, why doesn't anyone play Dawson's Creek reruns anymore? Why did Roy Rogers have to shut down and only become highway rest stops? Why are they remodelling the Phily Diner? Most recently, why does my former good fried hate my guts?

It's the same reason why I watch Titanic at least once a month for- I'm like, longing for something that I cannot have, or ever get back to-even though the future is probably a wonderful place full of wonderful things.

When my grandmother died, for days, all I did was stare at photographs of her and the Florida house, and just tried remembering her. When I miss someone or something, that's what I do. I focus on that era. Then I wish I could go back in time. I wish I could change things or relive things.

It makes me wish sometimes that I was still a little girl, because I had a really great childhood, and I don't remember bad things happening to me then. I had toys and a family and a dog and a nice house. I sang a song about Tinkberbell that I made up while I swang on the swings. Sometimes I wonder if my parents miss those times, or if they wish I was a little girl again too. I know I will miss being in the house with them once I am married.

Sometimes I wonder if I am the only person with nostalgia disease. Does this prevet me from moving forward and becoming the best person I can be? But then I wonder what would happen if I were to forget. If I forgot Peppy my old dog, or my grandmother, what would happen? If I forgot my friend, would I feel better about my life?

I know we cannot stop time and we can't change things at all. But I just wish that the future looked more pleasant to me than the past has become.

I guaruntee you, that in a year from now, I'll be pining for this moment.

Maybe Someday

Maybe someday you will realize that the life you envisioned is not all that it's choked up to be.

Maybe someday you will see that I always believed in you and trusted you and thought that you were great- yes you disappointed me at times, but I never wanted to not know you.

I don't want to waste another tear on you, but I'm not like you.

I just can't throw things away so easily.

As much as I say I never want to see you again, it isn't true. I wish I could see you right now or tomorrow. I wish you'd come back and be my friend again.

Feeling Emo

I promised myself that I would not go public with my problems, but hey, I think that it's okay to be emo sometimes, maybe healthy even.

In good old teenage angst form, go ahead and bang your head against the wall, throw things around the room, break a few CDs in half (they're obsolete anyway), and make song mixes devoted to those you have lost or are acting out against. Then zip into your car, wearing heavy eyeliner and vintage clothing, drive to nowhere, and sing along as if Cameron Crowe is watching you. You can brood and mood at the mall, the local bar, or in your best friend's basement.

Just don't act out this way too long or you may become chronic emo, which you know, is just sad. You'll end up cutting your wrists and writing really bad poetry, citing everything as ironic and twisted. Enough said.

Me, I've been emo the past few weeks, for reasons that some of you are aware of, and some of you aren't aware of. I'm not the type to name bash and trash all over the web. Yes, there was a time when I would do that, but it's been eons since that era in high school. Although, because no one reads this blog beyond Noreen, Gina and Lori (I think, correct me if I am wrong, dear readers), I feel as though I could bash the person that I am angry with and get away with it. He or she would never know.

The person that I am angry at right now is someone that I once highly respected and cherished. What does this have to do with South Jersey and forgotton places? One word: nostalgia. This is a person that I have an unfortunate nostalgic attachment to- everything around me here in South Jersey is reminiscent of this one-time friend of mine- but mostly the neighborhood we grew up in, the diners we ate at, and the high school that we spent lots of time in. Memories mean everything to an emo nostalgic person like me- that's what we thrive on- the good old days, the photographs, the parties and the life changing events that we went through.

Because I can't get too personal, I can't really express what I am going through right now. All I can say is that when you lose a friend because he or she no longer feels that you are important enough to talk to, or if your friendship is in trouble, and that person doesn't feel that it's worth saving, it's probably one of the worst feelings in the world. I'd put it up there next to ending a romantic relationship, losing a job that you love, or finding out your favorite t.v. show was cancelled (now there's a reason to get emo).

No, in truth, it's not a joke. Friendship is to be taken seriously. If any of you readers are experiencing a problem with a friend that you truly care about, I suggest that you talk to that person right away. Don't be a coward and hide, because when that friendship is really lost and has exhausted all resources, you will feel so alone, even if like me, you have all the friends that you ever really needed.

And to all of you out there who have been my friend and will continue to stay my friend- I care about all of you so much, even if I do not always show it. I will make a promise right now to ever talk if I feel that our friendships are in danger, and I want you to promise me the same.

My emo day is coming to an end. Tomorrow I will be a stronger, wiser and better person- because I have to be. Nothing feels worse than wallowing in your own pain for too long. Plus, it's really important to shower. I have to be a good person, daughter, sister, wife, teacher, pet mommy, writer, student and friend- and I can't do those jobs if I'm feeling sorry for myself.

I'm not going to let this hurt me.