treats from summer. [i wish he was my boyfriend]

ok but, i really do, though.

i would just really like...

to eat a cupcake.

i'm being stolen.

evolution. [or reinvented by canvas]

we looked like we'd just fallen from the sky.

do you know what that's like?

i heard a crack, just then.

be careful.

one of these times they'll push too far.

one of these days i'll completely disappear.

i look the same. but something's shifted.

anyway, we shot higher and higher until the engines cut off.

in attempts to stall.

i felt myself passing out.

she's always offering good advice and holistic remedies.

i am forgetful and wooed by science.

scorned by science.

in the name of it all. survival of the fittest.

or some poor excuse for selfish behaviour.

a friend of mine gave me a painting, and on it are the words, "they liked me better dead."

but that's not true is it.

i am whatever you say i am./not./am./not.

so if i can take the same 26 letters and reorder them...

if i can take the same words taught to me and rearrange them...

if i can take the same 88 keys and transpose them...

then i will take these bones and reinvent them.

i will take these tears and bury them.

i will take this heart and veil it.

you'll see glimpses and no more.

tell what she was like, because this one won't leave a trace.

some vacant memory of a well-meaning piece of carbon.

weary light.

once brave. now sighed.

and the sky swallowed her whole.

little joy(s).

ok. let's talk about this.

it's a beautiful day out. my team won. (the redskins). yes i am a redskins fan. and when they play, it's the only time i care about nfl or any american football for that matter. let's be real. i mostly watch the superbowl for the half-time performance and the commercials.

this is a recipe for a good day. except that i worked today.

nope. no no no. not what you're thinking. i am thrilled to be working today. i'm thankful for that sweet table of three with the precious moments doll eyes who ordered carrot cake and said i was beautiful. i'm so grateful for the tiredness invading my body to cause some sort of over-emotional response in the form of a blog that will probably go deleted. i'm thankful for 2 jobs. one that i'm trying ever so hard to master.

what am i referring to then? i am frustrated with the fact that, in my life, a lot of times, it seems that hard work and diligence are not rewarded... except that it makes you too exhausted to have an anxiety attack before bedtime. kind of. ok no it doesn't. it just makes sleeping feel really good. i dont want anyone's pity or sympathy and there are many things that will go unmentioned in the public blog forum. but i am tired of trying. tired of giving 200%... embracing constructive criticism, being the perfectionist that i am, and getting absolutely nowhere fast. of working hard to pay your dues, and getting the short end of the stick almost each and every time you go the extra mile.

hi. how can i help you? smile smile smile. what can i get for you? how can i be for you? how can i make you feel amazing today? service is my job. it's something i deeply enjoy. and it's super awesome when you get paid. and even more awesome when people reciprocate. i feel guilty for even typing that i'm feeling empty, depleted and unfulfilled. it only leads to my being angry and questioning myself.

i'm tired of people trying to relate to me, when they're internalizing and spending 90% of their time inside their own heads, and forgetting they've not communicated this to their friends. and so everything comes out in clips and phrases. and so, though they may relate to my feelings, their solution lies before them. just a matter of sitting down and making this or that adjustment. which they won't until they're good and ready. because their emotional senses block their practical abilities. and let's face it. sometimes it's much easier to feel down than to push past and make something happen. but imagine you push past and nothing happens. again. and again. and you are patient. and you ask for advice. and finally, you just want to throw something, because...

IT.

WHATEVER IT IS.

JUST.

ISNT.

WORKING.

YOU.ARE.STILL.LOSING.

but refusing to quit.

aw, you sweet little chum. A for effort. ra ra ra and all of that.

i'm tired of showing up. not for the sake of showing up, but knowing that there are days when i need someone to show up for me, and they will not. pulling back or cutting people off is silly and impractical...

which brings us to relationships. boy and girly lovey ones.

i want my partner in crime around. whomever the hell that is. WHICH feels more like the equivalent of some sort of disney princess happily ever after wish upon a falling star whispered to my conscience cricket friend named jimminy, last name christmakuh who talks to me on my windowsill. though i don't look at such things with rose-coloured glasses. meanwhile, i thought attention from boys would make me feel better. it doesn't. and at the moment, it's making me freak out and retreat further into hiding. i miss one. but i am out of sight; out of mind. and it sucks. and it hurts some. but it's nothing to analyse or question. just hang out. wait it out. or whatever. i'm fine with being single. i am bored with being teased that my bff has just arrived. i wish these suckers would stop wasting my time and or starting what they can't or don't intend to finish.

i am on a carousel with the most annoying song playing.

i cannot make it stop.

i cannot get the operator's attention.

i cannot jump off.

i just have to take it with a smile... and start being happy for the fact that it's a nice day to be stuck on a carousel.

and i'm tired of doing that.

i'm tired of being ignored and unmissed.

i'm tired of feeling like i dont matter.

my heart hurts. and i'm so angry.

and what's worse is that overall unhappy people who are bored with their lives make it their aim to steal the little joys from people around them.

the little joys that get me through... nice and slow. one day at a time.

anyway, it's sunday november 21st. and that's how i feel. and i want it to change.

please, don't be long. please, don't you be very long.

please, don't be long.

for i may be asleep.

two roads diverged in a yellow wood

all of this will either kill me or make for something amazing.

astounding, even.

and, i've got something to say, my friends...

i will never lay down without a fight.

find some beautiful place to get lost.

i like books. and i mean, a whole lot.

good thing my housemate has pretty much all of the books i've been meaning to read, but haven't had the chance.

i'm gonna read like a kid in bookit.

descent.

ascent.

the sweet lift. gentle and sure.

alighting. no striving.

none.

but the descent.

cruel and uncertain.

trying.

like those dreams that won't stop coming.

and you wake up angry and hot and...

and.

and.

and?

it's maddening.

because i chose. i made my inner choice.

as if the gods are cruel.

as if the universe could hear the silent resolve.

down it spun.

down upon my gaping lungs.

hurled to the floor like a castaway.

wretch.

no?

ignored? it equals a decline.

wayward one.

what then?!

WHAT THEN?!

explained everything and nothing.

in sleepless nights.

in valid texts.

in poetry and prose.

in quotes and plagiarism.

in hysterical laughter.

in tearful confessions.

in all ways. honest.

in brave defiance of all the disappointment i have ever known.

i stood there, brazen.

i laid there, shaken.

i sit here.

d i s m i s s e d .

u n l o v e d .

u n r e q u i t e d .

u n k i s s e d .

and u n m i s s e d .

it rages like a swell of melancholy madness flying up to meet the sky. to challenge its breath. to question its heights. the sound of your favourites multiplied by passion to what sounds like voices of angels and broken souls singing with them. and echoes of past and all my present want. they sing. they sing out. they sing soft. they sing long.

and i would just as easily question the cruelty of the silence, as throw myself headlong into the comfort of violence. but no resolution. no answer. just wait.

fear swallowing my hope in love.

love so grand.

love so great.

and blackest sky brings its sickening wane.

the dismal forebodings of the beat of my veins.

i am just this. or that. or nothing. or much.

i am simply a girl fallen...

it is not aloud.

not aloud.

not granted for me.

descent to the valley.

descent from these heights.

because the letters i'd write would choose what is right.

but it would dash me to pieces sooner than enfold me in it.

you

have

not

been

paying

attention.

there is nothing to be done.

nothing at all.

i bloomed. i moved to love.

too soon.

it called my name to send me away again.

i blossomed.

i moved to love.

all for naught.

there's hope in the air; there's hope in the water, but no hope for me your last serving daughter.

careful little steps. heart beating like a bird. and if i concentrate ill slow it. but it's the pattern and rhythms of blood rush. of heart swells. inside everything is fast as chaos. faster than gravity. and outside it moves slow like molasses. i am no guru. i cannot reverse it. fathomless depths gape like wounds below. calling my name to come dwell there. forget the sting and move on, i say. onward and upward toward the healing. but every single day you are greeted with the first careful little step. there is no floor… just a tightrope. move slow. teeter upon the edge of being lost. or something. it is a curse handed down to you. a curse that has left you. a curse broken and deleted. but not, really. because it all takes the same cycle. the same wolf in sheep's clothing. and in the next dream, the good parts get longer, the climb is higher, the sweet is sweeter. and the fall will dash you. but you'll never die of it. it's enough to put you through hell, and not enough to kill you. not enough to cripple you. enough internal injuries to make you remember every time you breathe. but every one thinks you should be fine. and so, let's pretend that i am.

there is this kid in my class who passes notes to me. he scrawls them whenever he has a moment. decorates his books with commentaries for me. so each time he opens them to read along or study, i hear what's in it, but i can't help but see what note has been added. he's the first conspiracy theorist i've ever met. he makes me mistrustful of all that i've believed in. he also tells me how he sees me in the most poetic of ways. and if you're expecting shakespeare-like odes of beauty, my friends, you are mistaken. he elaborates upon my ugliness. suggests clothing to hide me better. to hide my shame. he paints the paper bags i walk around in. and makes a mask for my face. "look. you want this to stop hurting? it won't. it's ok. just hide it. hide you. stop talking. stop singing. stop moving. be silent, dear one. in this, you'll do the world the greatest of favors. just let them use you. you're worth nothing but to take care of people. you are rather good at that. you take care of them and help them to feel better with songs. let the men have their way. let them lead you on. you don't think they'd mean it, do you? no self-respecting man would love you. and you comfort the women. you're good at encouraging. so, let go of your dreams. relinquish them to this God you believe in. because you are misled. He wants them because you weren't meant to have them. You take care of other's children. you are a maid in the grand caste system of this world. so work harder and get those silly stories of princes and happy endings out of your head. this is reality. you're shooting for the moon, child." i think he's an idiot. but i believe every word he says.

these friendships are like terminal illnesses. these relationships much the same. everything has an expiration date… you cannot control when. but it will come. they will leave you in the end. you're still in the room, but the door has slammed. only difference is, i don't ask you to stay anymore. i won't beg you not to go. do us a favor, and stop wasting my time that i'll have to pay back to keep us on some sort of life support.

my body slides between the sheets each night and longs for some sort of meaning and freedom. i bite my mouth in my sleep from frustration. crying and fighting… fighting myself. good thing i'm imaginative. i'll create new reasons to exist here. and teach myself to lie so that when you ask how i'm doing… i 'll say fine in a believable sort of way. stoic little maid that won't give up. and bury it all in songs.

and someday, it just might feel ok. good thing some sort of warrior resides in the bones of this body.

december 3rd.

i know what you're thinking.

out of character for nitasha? yep. nevertheless...

I CANNOT WAIT TO SEE THIS FILM!

catch a boat to england, baby.

Living is a gamble, baby,
Loving's much the same.
Wherever I have played,
Wherever I throw those dice,
Wherever I have played
The blues have run the game.

and if i leave, you know, i wouldn't leave a trace.

new things written...

The disapproval writ on his face

I said, You're much too young to be stuck in your ways

Having trouble keeping pace

With your fast talking stories

and glorious claims

Show me your purple heart

Tell me the tales behind your battle scars

You can only lie but so far

Those untrained hands will shoot wide of the mark

I said, one if by land

And two if by sea

An army of cowards

To rescue me

One, if by land

Two, if by sea

And shame for the one

Who makes a fool out of me

When dawn broke the window

And shattered the glass

I woke with a start

And waited in bed

I loathed all the witnesses

chanting their chords

Try harder. Be Better.

And give us some more.

I said, one if by land

And two if by sea

An army of cowards

To rescue me

One, if by land

Two, if by sea

And shame for the one

Who makes a fool out of me

lady wisdom.

Today my grandma said I needed to find a good Jewish boy.

and there's that. i'm about to convert.

it's hard to accept yourself as someone you don't desire.

i have never felt so ugly... so used... and so unwanted in such a very long time.

"for our question is: 'Am I Lovely?"

and to be rejected is to hear a resounding. NO. "

i hear 'no' like a cd that's broken and skipping.

if a new heart has been created in me. if a new palace created from the ashes of my heart... then, a new war has been declared. and an atomic bomb has just been dropped on it. knowingly or unknowingly, many hands have helped set this in motion.

today i was minding my own business at one of my favourite places in east nashville. a song came on, and i literally had to excuse myself and run to my car to cry.

my heart is sick, friends. i am not ok at all.

"there's a low low feeling around me and a stone cold feeling inside. i just can't stop messing my mind up... wasting my time."

new. [there's nothing new under the sun.]

"Life's a corkscrew that can't be straightened,
A minus that won't add up."

it's one of those strange things. one of those jagged little pills, the book of ecclesiastes. a thing that is so full of truth that it makes your soul ache. and yet it feels good to be understood... to find your heart written out in ancient texts. you don't feel so crazy if the guy credited with being the wisest man in the world felt exactly the same as you.

i was promised newness.

and as of yet, it's all the same.

nothing has changed.

i am teetering on the edge of mistrust. distrust.

whatever. trust is fading quickly.

it's a different scene. a different act. a different cast of characters.

but it's the same story playing out again.

will it always be this way?

you know they like to knock me down, but i don't stay down for very long.

i wrote another song... or two this evening, and even began composing a piano piece, as well. it seems there are these wells of emotion that are begging me to tap them and turn them into something. but i feel like it's a bit like harnessing the sea. and i'm a bit afraid of what i'll find there. i'm so used to being able to explain how i feel. to paint a picture with words or notes.

instead i'm finding a thousand things are true. but they are contradictory.

i found myself ready to leave this town. or making plans of escape.

i found myself making plans to dig my heels in and seize the day and make the best.

i got in my car and drove with the intention of getting lost.

i found little pieces of myself to the backdrop of madison tennessee.

(not to mention a few places i've wondered where they are)

i am falling in love with him.

he has my attention.

he has lost my respect.

i am absolutely terrified and mistrusting.

i have this innate sense that i am being made a fool of.

i have this sense of safety.

i miss living with my family.

i know that my grandma and i have a healthier relationship when we aren't in the same house.

i miss having a dinner companion.

i want to sleep in tomorrow morning.

i want to wake up early and run and then perhaps crawl back into bed.

i miss my cushy job.

i dont miss the commute stress.

i hate catch 22s. and feeling like i've limited mobility.

i'm in my 20s. i'm single. i've no family of my own. the world is my oyster. but i'm trapped.

i want to paint my face and express myself/hide my vulnerability behind fashion.

i could care less about makeup and would rather don black tights and a shirt and call it a day.

i want to whisper.

i want to shout.

i want to speak plainly.

i'm sick of hearing the sound of my own voice.

i feel understood.

i feel misunderstood and alone.

i feel used.

i feel appreciated.

i feel pulled in a hundred directions and yet like a solitary motionless creature in the middle of the earth absolutely lost in a black hole.

i feel numb.

i feel overstimulated.

i want to quit.

i cannot stop.

looking at this photograph by nick knight made me miss an old lover.

nick knight was one of his favourites.

maybe i miss being a lover.

i miss being someone's favourite girl.

i hope he's well.

i wonder if it hurts him.

i can't remember his face./i wish i could forget.

i wonder if i'll ever be loved.

i wonder if i'll ever allow myself to be...

i wonder if i'll ever allow myself to trust again.

"i'm comin out..."

i'm withdrawing.

this song is so nostalgic. it's like a warm blanket...

don't let me go.

chipping nail varnish.

so in case anyone else was wondering, i was a 60s... sort of a factory girl, if you will. miss sedgwick was probably the muse for many things. nonetheless... that was that.

i decided, however, to be a cat for work...

everyone is talking about the mumford & sons show.

it makes my heart fly up in my throat and then drop to my shoes.

sort of like being on a roller-coaster. absence makes the heart grow fonder, i suppose.

and i really wish my heart felt warm and not roller-coaster-ish at present.

glad you all enjoyed it, though.

meanwhile, my nail varnish/polish is chipping. i hate that a lot. but i'm always incredibly lazy about taking it off.

it seems i've made it by the skin of my teeth this month. you know, with the bills bills bills. but then again, not exactly.

in general, i feel like something has got to give.

somehow i have the feeling that the 'something' is probably me.

(remember in the old bugs bunny cartoons when someone would say... "i have a feeling someone is about to get hoit [hurt]... and that someone is prrrobably me." hahaha

i'm doing a lot of striving.

my best friends and even my grandma have told me i need to stop.

one-a-those easier said than done things, eh? yes.

i had a dream the other night, that i was looking in the mirror and i couldn't see myself straight. i was wearing these crooked glasses, and i couldn't fix them. every pair i'd try on were wrecked and i couldn't see myself clearly at all. i saw everyone else just fine, but myself... so distorted.

everything about that dream is true.

i just want to hide... and take this nail varnish off.

and sleep, and not wake up with an elephant on my chest and bees in my stomach.

in other news:

i like the new n.e.r.d record. it's realllllll fun.

i'll probably be listening to it all day.