The Elephant's Room: December 2010

Friday, December 31, 2010

Happy buy a New shirt Year

I made more. This one is Anthony Green, and it's Nicolette's late Christmas gift.

I don't know what to say about the last year of my life.
For the last eighteen years, I have never had a single regret, and this year is no different. There are things that I wish could have been done differently, but I do not regret anything that has happened. I know that someday it will all be brighter.
What a year it has been, and though I still don't know who I am, I have a little better understanding of who I'm not. That's how it will always be, I think. Never knowing who I'm supposed to be, but slowly narrowing down who I am certainly not destined to become.
Over the last 365 days, I have been more in love with the world than ever before, and been more disgusted with the world than ever before. I have been so in love, and then fallen out of love. I have moved away, gone to school, failed at things, succeeded at things. I lost so many friends, and made new ones to fill those spots. I have been on an airplane, I have seen Chicago, been to Lollapalooza, I have run away from home, I have been kicked out of my home. I have cut my hair, I have gotten tattoos, I have changed my outlook on life. I still don't know what I want to do. I have lived in so many places, but I haven't even lived.
My life has so much more to offer me, and here's to hoping a new year will mean a new life.
I want another chance at things that I have ruined.

My resolution: I will love and be loved.
Now playing: To the Beat of a Dead Horse... - Touche Amore

Thursday, December 30, 2010

We only accept

the love we believe we deserve.

Johnny told me that. Nobody can ever understand how happy I am to know where he is, and have him back in my life again. It took a total of ten minutes for him to say things that made me feel better about where I am in life, and now I feel that things will be okay sometime.

In other news, I got a new tattoo yesterday.
It's a tree. Its location is my right leg. It's beautiful and I love it.

In other other news, tomorrow is New Years Eve. I will be doing absolutely nothing, because I get the pleasure of waking up at 4 a.m. to serve doughnuts and coffee to all you folks with a hangover. This will be another one of my countless New Years' spent alone. If someone would like to sneak into my house at midnight and kiss me while I sleep, that would be alright.

I am working to accept the love I believe I deserve.
Now Playing: In Rainbows - Radiohead

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

I am afraid

of the things that I am capable of these days.

I'm afraid that I'll die before I'm ready.

Now Playing: The Original Demos - Mansions

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

For one night only

I don't want to be surprised.

My life is a kaleidoscope, never still, never the same.

For just one single night I want to know everything that will happen, I want predictability.

Then I will be happy, then I can go back to being surprised.

Saturday, December 25, 2010

I dream of things

that only dreamers can dream.

Certain kinds of sleepers and thinkers that when combined become a dreamer.

I dream of you, faceless. I dream of our children I haven't met yet.

It takes so much out of me to wake up, entwined in the beauty of my unconscious mind.

It hurts me to be sad, but it's hard work being happy.

I'm hanging in the balance between awake and asleep, and here is where I'll stay forever.

Now Playing: David Bazan, Curse Your Branches

Friday, December 24, 2010

Merry

Christmas to you, from my little family of one.
I'm a single person family now that I got kicked out of my house on Christmas Eve. Cool.

I'm spending the holiday with my best friend Sydnee, because neither of us have too much of a Christmas.
That's alright with me. We make it work.
Just trying to stay positive and be happy.

Thursday, December 23, 2010

I need to move

out of this house.

I just got the shit beat out of me because I didn't call my professor back.

I hate where I live, I hate where I come from, I hate everything.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

I wish I'd been born

in 1983.

But what's ten years to a heart anyway?

Friday, December 17, 2010

I am unable

to function without someone to look after me.

My entire life, I have had another person there, telling me what to do, and when to do it. That's how I survived.

I am a child.

I have lived on my own, yes. I have graduated high school and kept a job, yes. All of those things were easy, because they were cut and dry, things I had to do to survive.

College is another story. Nobody makes you do things here.

You can fail classes easier than I can type this sentence.

I am a child.

I need someone to take care of me.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

You're just too hip

for me, man.

This is not me denying that I have hipster qualities, because, let's face it, I do.

"Hipsters are the friends who sneer when you cop to liking Coldplay. They're the people who wear t-shirts silk-screened with quotes from movies you've never heard of and the only ones in America who still think Pabst Blue Ribbon is a good beer. They sport cowboy hats and berets and think Kanye West stole their sunglasses. Everything about them is exactingly constructed to give off the vibe that they just don't care."

— Time, July 2009

Here's what I think.

"Hipsters" are okay, until they become exactly what they don't want to be. Arrogant and overzealous about their tastes in whatever the topic of discussion may be. At the core, they don't want to care, but then you're caring about being seen as not caring. The only true "hipsters" are those ones who honestly never meant to be, and there are not too many. Jack Kerouac led the sort of revolution that began in the 1940's and 1950's, and it was brought back today to describe a kaleidoscopic subculture, because they needed a nicer name than the what-I-think-is-significantly-better-than-what-you-think's.

There lies my only problem with being referred to as "hip," because I am able to respect the choices of others and take influences from different cultures and grow from them. Because I wear certain clothes, listen to certain bands, or ride a fucking fixed-gear bike, does that make me someone different than I have always been? Not until I start to judge other people who wear certain clothes, listen to certain bands, or drive a van. Then I become someone different, and then I become fully encompassed in a lifestyle of irony.

I would rather just be a person who can, at the least, tolerate your views and opinions without imposing my own on top of them.

I'll listen to Coldplay when I please, because they're talented and make me feel things. I'll wear the shirts I made because I'm proud of them, and I'll watch the movies that hold my attention. I'll drink my PBR because it's what's at the party, knowing that it's the equivalent to cardboard flavored fizzy water. I will wear whatever hat keeps the sun out of my eyes or the cold from my ears. I have no idea what kind of sunglasses Kanye West wears, and he surely didn't steal mine, because they're in my bag right now. I certainly don't fit the mold entirely, but there's no question that I have my moments.

Overall, there is a significant piece of the culture that deals directly with a lack of respect for anyone but themselves, and that is the part I don't wish to be associated with.

You call it irony, I call it hypocrisy.

I have a sad habit

of reading the missed connections on Craigslist.

I sometimes wish that there was one whose description I fit, but there never are.

I find myself hoping that these people will meet and enjoy each others' company. I make up lives for them. Some get an apartment in the city, some settle down, some take a weekend trip to the dog park.

Some of the stories are sad, when I imagine what will happen to these people if they never find each other.

Most of the time, I wish I was interesting enough to have a missed connection written about me.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

I can see

the words inside your silence, but I can't speak about your pain for you.

How long can you burn for, anyways?

Turning over and back again with tongues ablaze like lions without teeth, hungry.

Staring at the forests of flames and our eyes just talking with the trees.

If we could drift long enough, we'll be home.

Sails blown by the fire within, pushing me to you.

And you can live inside of me, sewn together.

Breaking, inhaling, growing and breaking, again and again.

And you are a part of me.

You are my home and I'm your home, but I'm no place you want to be.

So I'm out here again, sparks hid behind my teeth.

I won't say a word for fear of failure spreading.

It takes some of us longer to get our dead ends now.

Oh, blood stained with loose living ran through charcoal hearts to make it red.

And we can be on fire again, you and I.

Do you want this?

Well say what you want, say what you mean.

Or we can talk, lung to closed ear.

Head inside a hand turning over again, together.

Cut up with cheap heat running through our veins.

And we can lay brick by broken brick, our ashes pushed in between.

And build this road back home to where we want to be.

We are not our own, we are the same.

Monday, December 13, 2010

"I am a collector of stories,"

you told me.

Every single night I told you bits and pieces of mine. We haven't talked in months, and I have no idea where you are.

I decided that this summer I'm going to get on a plane and find you.

I'm going to take myself to your last known location and I will knock on doors until someone tells me where you're at.

Even though I haven't seen you in years, yours is a funeral I'd fly to from anywhere. You said that to me every time we said goodbye, and I promise that I will stay true to that, I know you will too.

This is just a small break in contact. I'll see you soon.

Sunday, December 12, 2010

She sees his face

in the sweat stained sheets.

The dirty cups,
they keep on piling up.
In the backyard,
so overgrown.
In the dandelions,
they peek through the cracks in the patio.
She swears she hears the phone,
but she only gets a dial-tone.
So she imagines what'd she say:

"If you feel like coming home to me sometime,
yeah, if you feel like coming home to me,
I'll be waiting at the door.
There is nothing to be sorry for.
So why can't you come home?
Don't you feel like coming home to me anymore?
You don't feel like coming home to me?"

ugh.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Tomorrrow should be

fun, I'm going to go get my hair chopped off.

Truth is: I'm scared that it will get fucked up, and I'll look like a boiy.

Admission: I'm going to feel so guilty spending thirty dollars on it.

Fact: I am going to overdraw my bank account for one day, in order to get it cut. I don't get paid until Friday, but I just can't wait any longer.

I"m angry that the piercing place told me it would be an extra twenty dollars to pierce my septum because it has been done once, and they'd be going through scar tissue, or some cop out excuse for more money.

This makes me think that even though I know it's not safe for me to do it myself again, I'm going to anyway, because there is no way I'm spending sixty dollars to get my nose pierced again.

If anyone wants to do it for me and has some kind of idea of the right way, I'll be more than glad to let you do it. Same thing goes for my haircut.

In other news: I'm so overwhelmed with everything. I have final exams to study for, I have my final sculpture project to even start still, there are four Fine Arts critiques I haven't written, I need to find a place to live next year, and I do believe a certain Mr. Johi is staying with me this weekend. So little time, so much to do.

For now though, I'm going to sleep, and I don't have to be awake tomorrow until I want to be.

Goodnight moon.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

I have not showered

in three days, and I've been wearing the same pair of leggings for a week.

Where did I lose control?

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

HEYBUYASHIRT

'CAUSE I'M POOR.

And cause they're really awesome, and look like this:

The one I'm sporting is a portrait of my dear Elliott Smith, but if you're not down with that, have no fear.

I can put anyone on yer shirt, in any color, as big or small as your lookin' to wear.

Here are a few important notes on these rags:

-$10 if you don't give me a shirt to draw on.

-$5 if you get me a specific shirt.

-So far, they've all been done in fabric marker, which easily withstands a washing machine, so don't fret.

-I'm experimenting with spraypaint and stencils, those will be around soon.

-All I need from you is money and an idea. If it's not a well-known person, I'll need a picture for reference as well.

Want one of these bad boys? interwebmailmachine: samritzer@gmail.com

Fuck the sun,

we're tossed into the sea.

I'd rather live in days too dark than see you again.

I would be the one you'd never lay next to.

Silent.

Our dreams are lost and beautiful.

Miles from anywhere we can distinguish.

How many necks will you break to get back home?

"Enough," you said.

This is where I walk away.

The only appealing thing about winter is that I can write again. It's going to be a rough one.

Now playing: What Counts EP - Have Heart

Monday, December 6, 2010

Counting down

to so many things.

This is more for me than for anyone who reads this. Does anyone even read this? Whatev, yo.

1 day until my thesis paper is due.

4 days until my last sociology quiz.

4 days until I get paid.

4 days until my thesis paper conference.

4 days until my last math test.

5 days until my haircut.

8 days until my health final.

11 days until my math final.

11 days until my sociology final.

11 days until I am home.

Saturday, December 4, 2010

As you throw away

the love that we made.

I know, I know nothing is gonna change that.

Nothing is going to change that hopeless feeling I get when you say you understand, and I know you can't.

Does it give you satisfaction?

I know it does. I get the feeling that you're happy watching me be unhappy.

It was always the exact opposite for all that time, you were always the one sad about where we stood. Now that you have the chance to say no, and you have other people to support you, it's easy to say that you're done.

I'm sorry that I'm not speaking to you. I can't reach out any more than I already have.

This is where everything new starts.

I will be happy again.

I have an appointment to get a haircut on Friday, and that will be the first time my kaleidoscope has moved in months. Anyone who knows me would know how important this is.

I have a kaleidoscope personality and for a while it has been stuck in the same stupid pattern, I'm brushing off the dust and making moves again.

Now Playing: Blue Sky Noise (Safe Camp Acoustic Sessions), Circa Survive

Friday, December 3, 2010

Not one of you

will ever be able to understand how broken my heart is.

In the course of my eighteen years, I've lost buttons from my jacket, my favorite hat, an elephant beanie baby, Sydnee's Circa Survive cd, plenty more cd's that were mine, my driver's license, numerous pairs of sunglasses, lens covers, a soccer ball or two, sweatshirts, car keys, money, a cell phone, a debit card, packs of cigarettes, chapstick, a retainer, my cat's collar, a dog, three fish, a mouse, my favorite cup, so many socks, a show ticket signed by all of We Were Promised Jetpacks, passwords, photographs, toys, sheet music, homework, time, and morals.

nowi'velosthope.

Now Playing: [A-->B] Life, mewithoutYou