singing. remember when i used to sing? (tegan and sara edition)

i am feeling something, man.
mostly i am feeling pretty fucking lucky.
the ride home is cold, hands shake, breathing foggy, still marveling at the effect of GLOVES. Sainthood is currently on repeat. and im just fucking singing. loud and completely obnoxious, just belting out the higher parts when sara asks
-would you take a calm and tender terminal kind of care?
-would you touch me
-cling and wage an intimate fight for me?
it is no wonder i am such a strange animal lately, these things, these simple short songs tell me i can be more than the lower parts of this month. the old feeling, do you remember? muffled now, the creature howls in a back room somewhere, with the memories from middle school and the other blackish bits. oh, so angry i am ignoring it. while it can live without food and water, it cannot exist without my pitiful ass succumbing. unfortunately, ive found the locks and a sturdy chair to lean against that door. you poor thing. please. just die.
 -i know you feel it too, it all seems so untrue
-uh oh oh no uh oh oh no
look. after the tragedy that was 2010, the massive reconstruction, the fact that i am standing upright and by some blessed miracle - excelling - i just don't know. i don't want to get extreme and say "oh i don't give a shit anymore yeah!" nah, i definitely care. i certainly feel. i still feel the soft tugs of something that could very well be love. i lust, touch, reach, i care. but maybe the whole thing jump started the process of realizing that i am truly on my own as far as making this whole shit life work.
freedom. the smallest amounts.
it just feels so fucking good.
-slow down, you transfer all your weight and disappear
-slow it down, you have a tendency to rush right into your past
you know? hell yea. i used to go back to what i thought were the bright parts. i used to hold onto people that were just the absolute worst things, angry kicking things. i thought these instances of sharp emotion, sex, booze, punching holes in walls oh my god what a fucking life i have had sir good lord? huuuhhh got lost there. i was going to go off on this idea that it was all for nothing buuut FUCK THAT. what a fucking life i have had!
i repeat, i am so lucky.
i think about my grandparents, chaste and faithful in their religion, finding comfort in consistency and structure. my parents, staying together when all that would have ever made them absolutely happy was being apart.
-i won't make a scene over you
then i think about me. i might have crashed so haphazardly through life but holy shit i could not imagine any other way to learn. grow. after being told you are sick, being told you wont make it. being told you wont be anything.
-i know the world's been mean to you i've got a cure hold tight
-oh oh when you say it so so slowly to me oh oh like keep going
-oh oh i know you need it so so i need it too and oh oh i must keep going so you must too
and i made it. angels by my side in her drunken i love yous her beautiful fucking grace, in the lights of a city i barely remember now, in a friends art and love for a dog, in his arms around me in the basement of a bar in council bluffs, iowa as he presses his face to my neck and good lord has anyone held me like this before?
in this i know that life is something special.
ha! these ridiculous blogs, i am so happy here. i am so motherfucking cheesy.
who gives a shit. im fucking FLYING.
the creature mewls and i just fucking laugh. never again. you can't have me ever again.
-hard-hearted don't worry i'm ready for a fight
it just never been like this. its never been like this, you know, you've been here.
i think i asked before, in the great sorrow, what was the lesson?
life took everything, the universe told me- no.
but i think the lesson was that my legs were still under me. that somehow my smile still worked, my heart was still -against my deepest wishes- beating.
the lesson took a few years. i had to hate things for a while, had to give up a lot of myself, had to admit.... things. i had to realize. i had to experience that ripping grief. i needed that.
and fuck. it hurt. it tore parts of me out that i will never recover. but overall, as a whole, i exist.
and maybe i need to stop asking why and start making that existence something that fucking counts.
-might paint something I might want to hang here someday,
-might write something I might want to say to you someday,
-might do something I'd be proud of someday.
-mark my words, I might be something someday
 hm. who would have thought that life would work just like they always told you. be patient. figure it all out. go through some shit. find yourself. 
im not even 30.
is there more?
the thought makes me smile, not cringe, and that. that is special.

it never matters

i am, have always been, will always be brash and strange.

moving, gin, work (the fuck the holidays edition)

What is it about the holidays, man? It’s a fucking beast. At work people walk up foaming at the mouth, growling orders, staring a little too hard, challenging and short. Me and the girls are taking beatings, frantically moving, putting up the hard faced walls we need to protect ourselves. I mean, we try to smile through the angry rushes but that one person walks up again telling us what they need, skipping the thank yous, texting and snapping gum and suddenly our eyes are losing focus again and the red flushes our cheeks giving us away. When you walk up and the girl in the stained apron has the dead behind the eyes lord make it stop look and her hair is going this way and her hands shake a little, know that you did this. You did this to us. It may be why you get an edge the rest of year. Sorry. The holidays. Dramatic I know. But fuck it.

I’ve been really into gin lately. Again, fuck it.

I’ve been stealing into the night. Trying to forget the ripping pain of the man I’ve spent the last 2 years with telling me he doesn’t really want to know any more about me. What’s in a past anyway? I have strange secrets now. But whatever. I'm exploring.

Moving out feels exciting. First time since the duplex with the blue floors. This should be interesting. Council Bluffs, Iowa. How the fuck did I end up here?

.....

THIS

Sometime about 3 years ago something in me was able to find all the right switches. She wandered around my mind, slightly skipping, maybe humming, and flicked all the ones she could find with blinking lights, steam seeping, and angry red cracked handles. She found all of them. She did too good a job I think. I shut down. Crying there while I typed about my dead child, wondering what the fuck I was going to do, fighting so hard not to just give up: that must have been when the part of me started to gather the blueprints.

She must have known. I must have known.

It was perfect. I did something right. I took precautionary measures.

For when the man I chose that night in September would scar me for life, and never apologize.

For when I decided to move to Nebraska with him anyway and had my heart break repeatedly with grief and homesickness for weeks and weeks while he sat stone cold next to me in disgust till finally, it stopped.

For when my friends gave up. For good reasons. But you know, I’m selfish.

For my parents fighting on the phone, for my mother sobbing into the receiver at 3am. Where is your father? He never comes home. God have I wasted my life? Please mom, I…. can’t.

For losing my grandma. And her beautiful smile. I was so far away.

I was fucking prepared. None of that shit hurt as bad as it would have 3 or so years ago. Are you fucking kidding me? What is this huh? Are you even trying anymore, universe?

Remember when you took everything? Ha! I remember. I have a thousand little reminders. I remember.

And this time motherfucker, I was fucking ready.

It’s why I when I heard her voice on the phone for the first time, I knew she would be a great boss. I could hear her kindness, I could hear her firmness, and I could hear her laugh and I liked it. I knew I wanted to work for her. And I did. I do.

It’s why I didn’t share, why I was strong enough to carry all of this. Why I could build relationships. Why I chose the second chance, the anonymity. It’s been so fucking wonderful. They smile into my face, they laugh with me, and they don’t pity me. They see my eyes, they hear my words, they judge me fairly. I gave myself this chance.

It’s why I was able to ask another into my car, and without fear.

It’s why I am so fucking successful here, FUCK I am doing awesome. Excelling.

It’s why I am finally who I really was all along.

I took the measures.

Its why every time you made me feel like a fool I stood firm, looked you right in the face and said you better fucking watch it. Or you will lose me. You will lose this. You will lose everything. I am everything. For once in my miserable life I am everything.

I was never so empowered.

I warned you. By god. I did everything right. I talked till I was hoarse, I tried not to cry. I made my points into special little understandable easy to digest pellets and shot them like buckshot from this articulate and aggressive mouth of mine.

I could only love you the way I knew how and expect the same back.

Too much to ask for?

FUCK NO.

Again, are you fucking kidding me? Almost in my thirties and having been through all the shit I have are you FUCKING kidding me sir.

I am smart, I have a beautiful smile, soft hips, thick hair, sharp wit, I sing too loud in the car but I know all the words to the songs you like, and I can teach you things. I love deeply, and I reach. I study, goddamnit I work like a fucking dog. A whirlwind of attention and energy. This is what the fuck you are losing.

No one has time to fight with somebody, beg somebody to love them.

Especially not me.

But I did. How sad. Ha! Oh jesus, I begged you to just let me in, just tell me why you don’t care as much as I do. Did. You sat across of me and said I don’t know where this is all coming from and I almost fucking laughed out loud. Holy shit. I haven’t had a feeling like that in such a long time. I just almost threw my head back and laughed.

Before I would have been a mess. Oh my god I’m so sorry it is all my fault I’m sorry don’t worry I will fix this.

NO.

NO.

NO.

Not this time. You had the misfortune of coming after the enlightenment. After one cheated, after one decided I was poison, after one sat across from me while I shook apart and held the screwdriver out like a knife. Are you ready? Did you call the cops? Let them come. Don’t make a fucking sound.

I took precautions. You see, I set rules. I did something right.

For the times you cringed when I would cry. For the time I tried to talk about the baby and you said let’s not do this. For the times I tried to talk about my little brother and you changed the subject. For you, erasing my past. Pretending it never happened. I used to be like you honey.

I’m not even really talking to anyone anymore.

I used to think giving all I had was something heroic.  

I know now I was just a fucking idiot.

I was so fucking stupid.

But I know me better than anyone. I know what I need; I know what will fix this. I am so strong now it scares me. I am so fucking strong. I ask now, I look into a strangers eyes and say come get to know me. I ask the tough questions. I will always want to touch. I do touch. Spontaneous, I do more than just touch now. I take. I will from now on always want a part of the people I know. I am a different thing now. You took nothing from me.

And sadly, I am done with this chapter. You had your chance, baby.

I will take my cat. I will take what little possessions I have. I will take my heart. I am finished.

Actress

Everything has been, very much amazing. I am not sure what they put in the water up here, but it has kept me sane and level. Straight, bro, I'm straight. As the kids say. But I can't give Nebraska all the credit. I have been taking steps.
Cautions.
I have been removing things from my life slowly, methodically.
Removing images, music, movies, alcohol, trying hard to pry memories that sear from my brain.
They creep back in the middle of the night sometimes, mostly when I slip and have some drinks, or he falls asleep and I lay there, staring upwards, rolling rolling rolling.
i've abandoned the capitalization, i must be in this.
i should slow down.
Texas.
so i visit as often as i can.
i really do miss the east side, and the heat, and the people. the few i love, and painfully feel i need to see.
each time it has become more apparent. times are changing. i just want to talk about what had happened in this last visit. one of my caretakers have given all they can to me.
Thomas:
he stands on the porch and looks around. i feel the separation almost immediately. the last time i was here, he was able to come out for one night of my three, and this time, i know this will probably be our only interaction. i look at this man, my once fiercest protector, the whipping boy in my vicious blind white rage years, the one who loved me so much became so vulnerable i destroyed most of the better parts of him like a forest fire. small roots finally growing in his ashy wasteland of a heart and now he has a beautiful woman next to him and he has a life thankfully beyond that ugly shit. he takes care of our dog like a child. marty is fat and old and he walks over when tom sits on the edge of the bed and lays his graying face against his legs, looking up at him with so much affection i can't help but laugh. i look around the house i once lived in, this place. our paintings mingle on the walls, in a variety of outrageous colors, nudity, glue, and random mixed media. drawings in shitty frames, charcoal eyes staring. the giant canvasses that we all got a piece of, even tone.
but, the part that hurts the most.
i find the stacks of sketch pads.
the old ones. i look through them, never while hes around, i feel like they embarrass him, but i have to punish my self for the absolute SHITSTORM i was. the pages i want are in the middle, two of them. between amazing sketches of mechs and fantastical women and lots and lots of tentacles. i don't think i will ever forget what they are, but i can't share. i want to take them, or burn them. i don't know yet. i go find him outside, we chase the dog, laugh, he marvels at how long my hair is, we talk about the two people we love, and i buy him whataburger. marty gets his own fries. when i leave i feel so sad. turns out, that was the only time i would see him this visit. and probably for a long time. after returning home i send him the hardest text ever, telling him to go have his life, that i will be ok, that i am ok, that i will always love him and be here. he must have needed this, he just didn't know how to ask for it. i haven't heard from him since. it hurts, but it isn't devastating when i can convince myself i did the right thing by him.

meanwhile, back in SA, my soul mate is getting off of work, and i go to her.

Dawnelle:
We meet at her house and she laughs at the fact that she rented me a car and the first thing i did was scratch the back bumper in an HEB parking lot. god. the whole weekend is for us it seems. she shows me her new house, i meet her spaztastic dog and we get right into what we always do when we see each other now a days: breaking our lives down for the other. it is always a nonstop conversation of epic proportions with her. laying in her bed, on her back porch with all the seed pods from her trees falling dramatically around us, in the bars.
she chain smokes and asks me questions, i can't stop staring at her face.
we just don't stop, small white sticks to our lips, lighters flaring.
i miss her everyday, her fucking grace man, she has the biggest strongest and most willing heart of anyone i've ever met. she may just be the reason i still believe in love and compassion. from the earliest memory of her, she has the level headed logic of a police negotiator. she has hated me, saved me, and rehabilitated me. and i've tried with all of my bumbling efforts to help her in her life. i couldn't exist without her. her voice cracks when she says you don't know how much i miss you, and pretty soon it's cry fest 2013. but i think we both realize that no one else can touch the ugliest subjects with us like this. i don't talk about the baby with anyone but her, about losing my brother. i don't tell people about the horrific events that have unfolded in my life, and the same for her. we don't trust like normal people, but we trust each other. we are lucky. to have this outlet. we encourage the other to try to open up. it's a process. with lots of cigarettes and wine and dog kisses in between. i meet her amazing boyfriend. he's pretty special. i hope he stays. she makes puts the tom situation into perspective for me, which prompts the text i send him the next week. she makes it hurt less. fuck, she gives me hope. i love her so much. we really are just two girls trying to figure life out. cheese, i know. but our scars and bitterness are our tells that this shit is real.

After finding that my thought third best friend is an angry monster, i realize, i have uprooted.

i.... no longer feel much for the city i left in such a careless hurry. i cried for it for weeks after getting here, even with the beautiful snow and amazing job. following a man i hardly even fucking knew. curled into a ball i was convinced i miss so many things, so many feeling that now i am not sure were even real. did i imagine the magic? was there a veil over my eyes the whole time? i remember certain things now, like getting rolled in the middle school bathroom, gunshots at our first home and being thrown to the ground, cockroaches, yelling, sweltering heat. i still hold onto the hidden gems, like the shinier times of 2007, dancing, and finding the hidden hallway to nowhere downtown. but for the most part i wanted to leave behind the shell of the heartless, withering, aged so much beyond her years girl who just wanted to break everything she could, cut every pale inch, and use her words to kill any chance she had of a healthy relationship. and i just might have succeeded.
i feel like i am tricking everyone here, almost like i am lying.
i got to start over, is it fair?
shit. i hope so, because i need this man. need it. like water, like calm, like the finality of realizing this is my last chance to make a life. i think the next fall will actually kill me. my paper heart is so fragile i never feel it beat, just flutter. i used to hunger for people, reach uncaring through personal space and invade like a sickness. now i sit at home and do math on the computer. talk to the cat. make coffee. i don't even turn the tv on some days. i am a little lonely. but i need to rehabilitate. learn how to interact normally. it's coming along. slowly but surely, right?
i'm determined to make the most of this. so far, it is working. i can't ask for more. i still ache for texas, but now it is more whimsical and story like and i know it. there is the chance for a new life in nebraska.
take 2.
coats.
a promotion.
these sunsets, my god.
these wonderful girls and boys i work with.
Chile.
and of course, the man. he is trying. i hope he knows i am too.

just happy i still have this.

more soon. 

strength. but don't worry, i'll be still.

I.... am a new person. I am sitting in a room, cool and dark, the cat is sleeping and so is he. I'm typing on a tablet, the tv is like: here, watch the x files, you have netflix now. I am something different than I once was. I remember a time, ages ago, when I felt like this. strong. something about the way I look at myself in the mirror. putting pretty, weird, earrings into my ears, lining my eyes, smiling a little hungrily... aggressively. I talk. have whole conversations with myself, in the hurried few minutes before work. chest out, hips square. I am a vision. sometimes. I can pretend. I sure can put on a show. still. I remember those years ago, how simple and painful the fall was. and sometimes I wonder if/when it will come. there is something different now, though. I am not sure the fall would hurt at all. I don't think I would even feel the jolt. it used to be the pain was great, pressure in my brain, tearing through my fingers, into my skin. I used to feel every tiny thing. now. I think I'm out of whatever that was. several things have happened here that I should have new scars for. but me, shit, I'm alright. a shocker, a miracle. something. being numb in certain places helps. I have invisible calluses, thick skin, DRIVE. people don't hurt as much. they seem to make less noise. I'm growing up and leaving so much behind. i mean... there are times when I feel guilt, still. I've been through/done a lot of shit. pure ugly shit. BUT. now I find I don't give so much of a shit. now, things aren't as dramatic and important. fuck. I'm not crying, unless it matters. I'm not cutting. I'm smoking like a goddammed chimney but hell, I work at a coffee shop and texas is getting crazy with it's outrageous pro life bullshit. I need that. I just feel good. I'm making things, braids and antique jewelry covered in eggshell spray paint. roses and paper clips, dried thistles in my car. I'm painting and drawing. I am, magically, still in love. I touch my cat and she moves into my hand. slow steady recovery. the small house that I once felt stifled in is my sanctuary. these things. I need them. I meet strange people randomly. a small beautiful mexican girl makes me laugh constantly. an asian girl with sweet eyes and a loud laugh reminds me of myself when I was her age. the man who tattoed the state of texas on me is wise and crude, honest and hilarious. and he let's me have the tattoo for free, leaving me teary eyed and grateful for his voice and hand. it all feels good. at work I work forever. I work and work. I love my job. I'm almost scared to keep going. this is new to me. his niece comes and paints with me sometimes, she asks me lots of questions. shes really an adult when she speaks. shes weird and artistic. perfect.I just can't wait to see what she becomes. and him. well. he's the most perfect thing. he snores and he smells amazing. deeply intellectual. he makes me stop, and think, really think. I am patient for him, better for him. he doesnt know how much I love him. he's just the world. i am a new person. I will not waste this. I am strong. I have the x files and a volkswagon bug. a green one, at that. for all the shit. I just want to remember how happy I am right now.

just in case.

oh hey

There were many days I thought about you, blog. Aand I want you to know I will be back soon.