Holy Shit.

I feel like a child.
An antsy, obnoxiously excited child.

Secrets, Oh Secrets.

It makes me smile when I see celebrities with off-white teeth.
It makes them more attractive.
Good for them.

I have bland taste in food.
I fantasize about adding spices and veggies to my omelet.
This beautiful, colorful piece of food, but I know I never would.

There was laughter outside.
Young boys sneaked into the pool.
It is fucking cold outside.
As a kid, the weather can't bring you down.
Not even dirt can lower your esteem.

I loved playing in mud and creating funerals for my toys.

Morning Thoughts

If vampires existed, would I be as strong as Buffy?
Do I even know the concept of punching someone?
Making a fist?
If my nipples took over my boobs, would he tell me?
What if our periods were just five constant minutes of bleeding?
Would it gush?
I wish I knew how to use a sword.
Is showering even worth it?
I wonder if I am a redhead in another dimension.
A lot of things are possible in other dimensions.
I hope my hooker alter ego from dimension 9 uses protection.
I want someone to keep my brain after I die.
Maybe that will make having children worth it.
I probably need another toothbrush.
If someone had a germ detector for sight, they would gag at the sight of me.
I think it just makes me immune.

By the time I'm done processing my thoughts, I have ten minutes left over to get ready.
This is why I take the precaution of getting up at least one hour ahead of time.

Taking a walk.

I step outside and smell the sharpness of the grass.
It stings a little and I can smell an undertone of dirt.
Clumpy Dirt.

As I walk along with Kahlua tugging forward, I see her waddle.
She anticipates scents and leans in on them.
She hovers with all her strength to get an idea of what aroma haunts that spot.
I always imagine a corgi did it.

The cement is content with heat that brightens its complexion.
I squint and see little particles floating,trying to get into my nose.

My nose has been defensive.
It has swollen and grown layers of mucus to block any signs of oxygen.
It comes out in greens, pinks, reds and yellows.
Tries to suggest it has artistic merit.

I am in a facial war.

Kahlua hunches and looks like she is sitting in an uncomfortable, invisible chair.
I prepare my doggy bag for her fecal creation.
The shit shines and I can tell it's squishy.

The bag lingers onto the sticky stink and I feel my fingers mashing the shit with the plastic.
A breeze can reassure you of a good day or remind you that poop is unique because it can create cosmic scents that make you gag in a split second.

Through heavy huffs, Kahlua smiles up at me.
She is proud of what just happened.

Rant: Begin

I don't like you much.
You are this bag of skin who wastes time in dramatic stuttering.
Poor thing; it must be hard.
If you gain any wisdom from this chance we have at breathing, I would be surprised.

Don't clump me together with this mash-up.
I am not going to change my views and you will never truly understand where I am coming from.
That's fine.
I mean that with no sarcasm or anger.
It's fine.

Rant: End.

Malfunction.

I feel like I am going to flip the fuck out.
All of a sudden I get this urge to punch children.
I want to scream at random people.
I want my alter ego to take over and laugh obnoxiously at people who say stupid shit.

I want to tell you to get the fuck over yourself.
I can too.
We can trade.

Way to keep a sister informed.

I guess our relationship is too new for you to actually call or write or try.

GOD DAMN FUCKING TITS.
MOTHERFUCKING SHIT NIPPLES.

Classroom Spectacle.

Mouth breather with the spiked hair a few rows back raises his hand and says:
"Well, men are stronger and can lift bodies better plus, they are in higher demand so it makes sense that they get paid more."

My body becomes tense.
I need to say something.

Let me tell you about Greasy Pony-tail man.
He's the student who always has a comment on everything.
If he were spitting out intelligent sentences rather than ignorant/abstract fragments which he considers to be processed thoughts, it would be different.
He MUST comment on what he just heard:
"According to studies, they have shown that because women give birth and when they do, they take priority on children, this is a reason that they get paid less."
(FYI: this is what I interpreted after he mumbled and stuttered through, as he grasped random words from the air)

My brain feels like it may explode any second.
I can't let that happen!
I MUST say something.

I raise my hand as high as it could possibly reach and I let it out.
I feel a sweat mustache forming and my face is pink.

"It is INEQUALITY people. Do not justify it with 'man stronger, man make more money' or because of the fact that I have the ability to give birth to a child. If both a man and a woman have gone through the exact same training, it isn't fair that a man would get paid more JUST BECAUSE."

It gets quiet for a second then Miss Country Accent chimes in:
"Well, if it were firefighters, I would want a man to rescue me, because I know I would still have a chance to live."

I am not a fan of pain, but at that moment I just wanted to bash my head into my desk.

Oh, Oklahoma, how I hate you sometimes.

Chain Reaction.

Grumpy, is an understatement.
I have to try and lure myself into positive thinking.

People send in surveys at work and they make us sound like a bunch of assholes.
I kill people with my kindness.
What do you want?
Do I need to hold your hand while you shop for lotion?
Jesus.

I haven't been eating right.
I haven't been exercising.

My period always reminds me of this.
ALWAYS.

I can't blame my uterus though.
These are all the actions I have not been taking.

I am a fan of tangerines.

Mostly when something smells like one or looks like one.
I don't know much about taste.

I have been sleeping intensely.
I am a log.

My eyes stick together.
Eye crust tickles as it falls down my cheek.

I have to study.

Break me to small parts.

The woman had not dyed her hair in approximately 6 months.
The top half of her head was brown, the bottom yellow.
She sits patiently. I imagine her smoking, but it isn't allowed inside.
Her boy comes out, he is small, looks fragile in his striped button up shirt.
He places himself in the chair next to her and he smiles.
He is silent but he knows that he belonged to her.
He maneuvers beside her,then he curls up in her lap and she holds him tightly.
One hour later, she has to go, so he has to go back to his room.
His tiny hand waves to her and he smiles once again.

I can't handle too much emotional information.
I am not a human being who can contain constant anger or suppression.

Balance is key.
So, I listen to all the sides.
Cut snippets and piece it together when I am at ease.

I don't understand the drama divers.
The indulgence is incredibly irresistible and I have my moments.
I have to say NO, boldly.

I have to say NO and move on with what had occupied my mind in the first place.
I have goals for myself.
Physically and mentally I want to become stronger.
I realize that my sanity varies but I know I am mostly an optimistic case.

I feel electric.
I need nourishment.
I need support.

I just wish it did not come out so dramatic.
We all need to be heard out.

I won't spit in your face.

Is your husband gay?

Oh you crazy ads.
I can barely make my hands function.
They were beaten by the wind.
They are swelling and warming.

While outside, I was thinking about how frustrating wind is.
It kind of hurts your face and pushes you about.
I'm American.
I know my rights you blustery invisible bastard.

I came to a realization today that will bring my lounging to a minimum.
Thank goodness I am all caught up on Lost.

I am in love with dirty words.
I enjoy saying PUSSY without shame or regret.
It also makes me laugh.

Road Killer

I never wanted to succumb to road rage.
It uses up so much energy and you can't even send a rocket launcher onto your nemesis of the day.
It isn't worth it.
Many idiots drive on the road, just as many considerate individuals do.

People on the streets.

I want my reaction time to be like lightning.

You will never see it coming, because no one ever does anything about it.

You will see my middle finger bearded asshole!
My silent rebellion will be therapeutic.

I won't yell.
I won't turn red.

I will simply flip the bird and move on.

So, there.

Anxiety Sprinkles

I went for it.
I am going to hold a discussion group.
Then I am going to host a teach-in.
If you set a date, you have a deadline.
Muahahaha.

Turn it on.

I am reactivating myself.
Every semester can be a new frontier.
I NEED to work on my projects.
I just NEED to.
It is always super fucking hard to find a starting point.
How many people will participate?
Do people even talk to each other in person anymore?

Oh, technology.

You silly bitch.

Go! Go! Go!

Why do we stop ourselves?
Why do we rebel against ourselves?
Why can't I look at the blinking light?
Why should I write it with an invisible pen so no one knows?

I can answer these.
I won't.
it takes too much time.

I have to evaluate myself and I can't seem to find a starting point.

How do I solve you?

Electrical Funk

It must be the feeling of the new year.
we begin with little goals, we forget about them in a month and then we feel guilty in fragments.
The deepest months consist of going back and saying how fast it went.

Traveling around puts a smile across my dry skin.

It is crucial that I know what I want to do.

How are we supposed to just know?

I have to know because I lack financial support that will let me fuck around.

Obsession helps me keep the time.

Subtle Trips

I lost my journal in another computer chip.

New Mexico is a huge open space.
It makes you feel like the sky is going to swallow you.
This makes black holes less intimidating.

Living in the present contains less stress and it makes it so I don't have to countdown to anything.

The past is a pest from a million years ago.
It circles.
It makes me want to bite your head off.

I am still in a funk.